word count: 3k+ | genre: fluff, smut | featured couple: 🐾🐰
synopsis: girl talk with jeno except he loves how cute you are so much that he can't help but sabotage it.
→ takes place during loverboy hendery's, call me
jeno hums in quiet amusement, leaning back in his computer chair, one arm hooked loosely around your waist while the other rests against the armrest.
his game sits forgotten on the screen, abandoned the second you climbed onto his lap.
you’re straddling him, knees on either side of his thighs, leaning forward slightly as you talk, completely unaware of how close you are. his gaze fixed entirely on you.
“jeno, you have nooo idea,” you whisper dramatically, leaning in like you’re about to reveal classified information.
his eyebrows lift immediately, playing along without hesitation.
“should i be worried?”
“no,” you say quickly, shaking your head before lowering your voice again, more serious now, “but honey told me something today.”
and here it is.
he’ll never admit it out loud.
but he loves girl talk with you.
not necessarily for the stories — though those can be entertaining too — half the time he barely knows who the people you’re talking about even are. the names blur together sometimes.
but…the way your eyes light up when you tell them?
that part he never misses.
jeno hums again, softer this time, his hand sliding absentmindedly along your back before settling at your waist, fingers resting there like they’ve memorized the shape of you.
“honey? that’s xiaojun’s girl, right?” he murmurs, piecing it together just enough.
you nod immediately, serious, like this is important.
“okay so apparently — and don’t! tell anyone because this is a top tier secret—” you pause, letting the suspense build, leaning even closer without realizing it, “—the leader of the pinks sorority,” your voice drops, “…and hendery.”
jeno’s head tilts slightly at the mention of his friend, “hendery? like wayv frat leader hendery?”
“yes,” you whisper urgently, eyes wide.
his mouth pulls into a quiet grin, clearly amused — not at the story, but at how invested you are.
“okayy,” he says slowly, dragging it out just a little, “continue.”
you lean in even closer, practically conspiratorial now, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders without thinking.
“they’ve been secretly hooking up since sophomore year.”
jeno blinks, a bit of shock actually plastered on his face, “what?”
“crazy, right!” you gasp, hands lifting for emphasis before settling back on him, your energy spilling over into every movement.
jeno lets out a quiet breath of a laugh, shaking his head as he leans back slightly, the chair creaking under the shift.
“aren’t their houses like… rivals or something?”
you point at him instantly, eyes lighting up, “i know! that’s exactly what i said!”
he watches you for a moment. the way you lean forward every time you make a point, like the story pulls you closer. the way your lips move too fast for your thoughts, like you’re trying to get everything out at once before you forget.
his hand squeezes just slightly at your waist, grounding, steady.
“and nobody knew this?” he asks, quieter now, still playing along, still following, even if his focus is slipping back to you.
“apparently not,” you say, eyes wide, completely invested, “honey said they’ve been sneaking around for years. like secret meetups, late night stuff, the whole thing.”
jeno lets out a low whistle, head tipping back against the chair for a second before his gaze finds you again, “that’s kinda impressive.”
you stare at him, “jeno.”
“i’m just saying,” he laughs, lifting one hand in mock defense while the other stays right where it is on your waist, keeping you close without even thinking about it, “keeping a secret that long on a campus like this?” he shakes his head, amused, “that takes skill.”
you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling.
and jeno…he’s just focused on you.
because the truth is, he’s only half following the story now. the other half of his attention is on the way your eyes shine when you’re excited, the warmth of you sitting comfortably in his lap like it’s the most natural place in the world. like you belong there.
his thumb traces slow, lazy circles at your waist.
“so what else did she say?” he asks quietly, voice softer now, like he’s easing you right back into it.
your eyes light up immediately again, “okay wait…it gets juicier.”
jeno’s grin spreads, fond and a little amused, “oh, does it?”
you nod enthusiastically, already leaning in again — and he lets himself sink a little deeper into the chair, arms tightening loosely around you like he’s settling in, like he’s not going anywhere.
and he doesn’t want to.
because he could sit here all night listening to you ramble about campus gossip if it meant you stayed exactly where you are — straddling his lap, smiling like this, looking at him like he’s the only person you want to tell your secrets to.
“so apparently,” you continue, fully pulled back into the story now, your hands resting on his shoulders, fingers curling slightly into his shirt, “hendery is like… actually in love with her.”
jeno’s brows lift, playing along, “in love?”
“yes,” you say emphatically, “he’s been obsessed with her since sophomore year. apparently all the boys in wayv house know it too.”
jeno lets out a quiet hum, his hand resting comfortably at your waist, “that’s rough.”
“exactly,” you say, nodding rapidly, “because the problem is she refuses to commit.”
jeno tilts his head slightly, eyes still on you, “refuses?”
“yeah,” you sigh dramatically. “like they’ve been secretly hooking up for years but every time he tries to make it official she shuts it down.”
jeno’s mouth twitches, a quiet hint of a smile, “poor guy.”
“right?” you lean forward again, more animated now, pulled deeper into it, “honey said he literally tried to ask her to define the relationship and she told him—”
you stop.
just for half a second. because you feel something warm brush your skin. jeno’s lips. soft. barely there. against your collarbone.
you blink, momentarily thrown off — your words catching for just a beat before you push through it anyway.
“—she told him she didn’t want their houses involved in drama and—”
another kiss.
just as soft. just as distracting.
jeno hums quietly against your skin like he’s still listening, like nothing’s changed, his thumb still tracing slow circles at your waist.
you narrow your eyes slightly, glancing down at him.
“…jeno.”
his lips pause for a second, lingering just above your skin, but his hands don’t move from your waist — if anything, they tighten just a little, like he doesn’t want you shifting away.
“hmm?” he murmurs, voice low, innocent in a way that’s definitely not convincing.
“are you paying attention?”
“mhm,” he answers easily, lips brushing your collarbone again, soft and absentminded, like he’s doing it without thinking, “i am.”
you squint at him, clearly unconvinced, but you push forward anyway.
“anyway,” you continue, trying to gather your thoughts again, “so he’s been waiting for her to change her mind this whole time.”
jeno presses another kiss just below the first, slower this time, like he’s lingering on purpose.
“that’s dedication,” he murmurs against your skin.
your sentence stumbles into a warning, “…jeno.”
“what?” he asks, tone light, but his lips are still hovering there, barely pulling away.
you inhale quietly, trying to refocus.
“as i was saying,” you continue, stubborn now, determined to get through it, “honey said the boys think she keeps him around because she likes him but she doesn’t want the responsibility of actually dating him.”
jeno hums in response, drawing you in closer without asking. another kiss. this one slower. warmer. you inhale a little sharper this time before forcing yourself to keep going.
“and apparently he still drives her home every time they meet up and—”
kiss.
“jeno.”
“yeah?” he replies softly.
you try to glare at him but it’s difficult when he looks so relaxed, so completely at ease — chin dipped slightly, eyes half-lidded as he presses another gentle kiss along your collarbone like he has all the time in the world. completely innocent. and completely distracting.
“you’re ruining our girl talk.”
jeno smiles faintly against your skin, the corner of his lips brushing you, “am i?”
“yes,” you say, firmer this time, even if your voice wavers just a little.
he finally pulls back, just enough to look up at you, expression calm, unreadable — but there’s something playful sitting right behind his eyes.
he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“finish the story,” he says, like nothing happened, thumb still tracing slow circles at your waist, grounding, steady. “i’m listening.”
you stare at him for a second, trying to decide if you believe that. then you sigh dramatically.
“ok so,” you continue, though your voice is a little less steady now, “so honey thinks hendery is eventually going to snap and demand she either commits or—”
your words falter.
because jeno’s not even pretending anymore. his gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips for just a second, then back up again — slow, deliberate, like he’s weighing something. like he’s deciding. his hand shifts slightly at your waist, thumb pressing a little more firmly this time.
“or…what?” he asks quietly, a teasing glint in his eye.
he doesn’t sound all that interested in hendery anymore. and it’s getting harder to focus on words when his lips brush your skin like that.
screw the girl talk.
you lean in, capturing his lips with yours, with absolutely no warning. jeno’s eyes widen for a split second in surprise, then flutter shut as he responds eagerly, his mouth parting to deepen the kiss, tongue slipping past your lips.
“bunny,” he chuckles against your lips, the sound vibrating through you as his hands grips your hip, pulling you flush against him.
“—or what?” he teases, again.
“it can wait,” you say breathlessly, your fingers threading through his soft hair to tug him back in.
his lips meets yours again, soft at first, but the heat builds quickly as you sink deeper into it.
he parts from the kiss for a second, fingers gently reaching up, careful and tender, hooking the arms of your glasses and sliding them off your face, setting them aside on the desk. his touch lingers on your cheek for a moment before returning to pull you closer, tilting his head and connecting your mouths fully, tongue sliding in, slow, exploratory, tasting you with languid strokes that curl against yours.
his hands roam slowly up your sides, fingers tracing the hem of your t-shirt before slipping beneath it to graze your bare skin. his touch igniting sparks.
you follow his lead, the rhythm he’s set unhurried but intense. the kiss turns wet and thorough, saliva mixing as he sucks gently on your tongue, drawing a soft moan from your throat.
“mmm,” he hums into your mouth, breaking only for air, nipping at your lower lip, then diving back in.
your fingers curl into his hair, pulling him even closer as you tilt your head to give him better access, the kiss turning sloppy, tongues sliding insistently.
the chair creaks faintly as you shift your hips, grinding down against the growing bulge in his sweats. his thick cock hardening beneath you, pressing up through the layers — your leggings and his sweats creating just enough friction to make your pussy throb.
jeno groans low, the sound muffled against your lips and he bucks up lazily, matching your roll with a deliberate thrust.
you pull back a fraction, panting, your lips glistening from the thorough attention.
“this better be worth ruining girl talk,” you tease, voice breathy.
his eyes are dark, hooded with desire, but a playful smirk tugs at his swollen lips.
“oh, it will be,” he murmurs, capturing your lips once more in a slow, sucking kiss that leaves you dizzy.
one hand slides down to your ass, squeezing, guiding your movements, urging you to hump against him harder.
the dry friction builds heat fast — his dick grinding right against your clit with each pass, your wetness soaking into your panties.
you rock steadily now, the pace still teasing, playful pushes and pulls that have him breathing raggedly into the kiss. his tongue laps at yours in mirroring slowness, hot and wet, while his free hand cups your neck, thumb stroking your jaw to keep you locked in the makeout.
every grind sends jolts of pleasure through you, his cock so rigid it outlines perfectly against your pussy.
“fuck,” he whispers, parting from your lips and trailing kisses down your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin there, “want more of you,” he murmurs against your neck, voice rough and low.
his fingers hook into the waistband of your leggings, tugging them down quickly. you lift your ass slightly to help, the fabric peeling away from your skin, exposing the damp spot on your panties where your arousal has already soaked through.
he slides the leggings off your legs completely, letting them pool on the floor. the air feels cool against your heated skin but jeno’s warmth presses right back in as he pulls you flush against him again.
his hands immediately return to your ass, palms cupping the full cheeks, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. his grip is firm, possessive, thumbs pressing into the crease where your thighs meet your ass, spreading you open just a bit as he guides your hips down to his clothed bulge.
you grind against him immediately, the friction now more direct, your panty covered pussy rubbing along the length of his cock through his sweats. he’s so hard. the outline thick and throbbing. you’re so wet. the fabric of your panties growing slicker, you can feel it leaking out — dampening his sweats, leaving a visible wet patch on the grey material.
jeno’s gaze drops, fixated on the sight of you grinding slowly on his lap. he can’t look away, eyes glued to the way your soaked panties cling to your folds, the dark stain spreading wider as you bounce a little faster.
“shit,” he breathes out, voice strained, one hand sliding up to grip your hip tighter, urging you to keep that rhythm.
you moan in response, the direct pressure on your clit sending sparks up your spine, making your thighs tremble as you grind down harder.
“neno,” you whimper, nails scraping over his shoulders through his t-shirt, your body arching into the friction, your pussy throbbing, clenching at the tease of his hardness so close yet not inside.
“you’re killing me, bunny,” he groans deep in his throat, fingers digging deeper into your ass, spreading you wider so your clit catches perfectly on his tip with each bounce.
his breaths come ragged, chest heaving, and you feel him twitch violently beneath you, the heat of his arousal seeping through.
the sight of him so entranced, eyes dark and hooded, lips parted as he watches your body work him over — it pushes you further. you let out a breathy moan, picking up the pace just a touch, bouncing with more intent, your panties so drenched they slide slickly against his sweats.
“feels so good,” you gasp, head falling forward to rest against his shoulder for a moment, but you don’t stop, hips rolling in tight circles. your core tightens, pleasure coiling hot and insistent, but jeno’s reactions hit you harder — his grip bruising your ass, pulling you down forcefully now, like he’s chasing something urgent.
“fuck—can’t... hold it,” he grunts suddenly. his cock jerks hard against you, and then he’s cumming, hot spurts soaking into his sweats as his hips buck up uncontrollably — head thrown back against the chair, lips parted in a silent groan that turns into a low, guttural moan. his face twists in ecstasy, eyebrows furrowed, cheeks flushed, completely fucked out and lost in it.
the wet warmth spreads under you, mixing with your own slickness, making the friction even messier as you keep moving through his release.
you smirk down at him, satisfied, slowing your bounces to a teasing grind, savoring the vision of jeno unraveling beneath you — his chest rising and falling harshly, a sheen of sweat on his neck, that dazed look in his eyes as he finally blinks up at you.
“have i ever told you how pretty you look like that?” you say, pulling a low chuckle from his chest.
“you’re prettier,” he murmurs, voice thick and gravelly, one hand sliding from your ass up to your lower back, holding you steady as the other dips between your bodies, and into your soaked panties.
his thumb presses directly against your clit, starting a slow, firm rub that tightens that coil in your stomach again.
“oh god, jeno,” you gasp, the direct pressure igniting every nerve, your hips snapping forward on instinct.
you cling to him tighter, arms wrapping around his neck, fingers threading into his hair as you bury your face against his shoulder as you grind down desperately, rolling your hips in urgent, needy circles, chasing that building fire while his thumb continues circling your swollen nub.
you can’t hold back, the moans spilling from your lips right by his ear — soft, breathless whimpers.
his favorite sounds. right next to you yapping his ear off.
your pussy clenches around nothing, thighs trembling as you hump against him faster, the chair groaning under the frantic pace.
“yes, right there,” you plead, voice breaking into a whine, nails scraping lightly at his scalp as your hips buck wildly.
he doesn’t let up, thumb flicking side to side now, then rubbing broad and fast, his free arm tightening around your waist to keep you pinned close, absorbing every desperate roll of your body.
“you’re gonna soak me, aren’t you?,” he growls low, breath hot against your skin.
you nod frantically, moans spilling hot and ragged against his neck, until you break with a breathless whine, body seizing as your orgasm rips through you, pussy pulsing wildly, gushing wetness over his hand, clinging to him as he holds you steady.
your body hums with the aftershocks, chest heaving as you slump against jeno's shoulder, the world fuzzy around the edges from that shattering release. he doesn't rush you, just wraps both arms around your body, tracing gentle, soothing circles along your spine beneath the rumpled t-shirt.
you feel his lips brush feather-light kisses against the exposed skin of your neck, then your collarbone, warm and tender pecks that make your eyelids flutter in contentment.
minutes slip by like that, your breaths syncing up as the haze clears, his steady heartbeat thumping under your cheek.
finally, you push yourself up a little, propping on his chest, the sticky evidence of your combined messes cooling between you.
jeno's eyes meet yours, a teasing glint sparking in them as he tilts his head, voice low and playful.
“so…you were saying? what does honey think hendery is gonna do?”
you blink at him, the post-orgasm glow fading into a sudden wave of annoyance.
your cheeks heat — not from arousal this time, but from the sheer audacity of him circling back to that gossip like nothing happened.
glaring at him, you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.
“ugh, see—this is why i prefer girls’ talk with the girls,” you pout, lips pursing in exaggerated frustration, “you’re too distracting.”
that earns a wide, amused grin from him, his hands sliding down to grip under your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh there.
“let me distract you some more,” he teases, voice husky with renewed intent, before he lifts you effortlessly off his lap.
a surprised squeal escapes your lips as he stands, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.
he carries you the short distance to his bed and drops you onto the rumpled sheets with a playful bounce, hovering over you immediately, bracing on his forearms to cage you in, his body heat enveloping you.
“and you wonder why no boys are allowed in girl talk,” you joke, reaching up to trace a finger along his jaw, your voice light but laced with challenge.
both of you are smiling now, breaths mingling in the close space, the air thick with that easy, flirtatious energy before his lips press onto yours again
🐰
an: i finished this earlier when i thought was doing okay. i unfortunately am so so sad again so this is probably my last fic for a while. i will try to get orgasm donor johnny out before april ends but i’m gonna be honest chiefs, writing smut is really hard rn 😔💔😣anyways, i hope the loverboys and lovergirls are able to cheer everyone up a bit! ♥️ captain jeno is back with his freaky ass panty kink in this one heheheh
btw if you want a specific scenario with a specific couple, you can always leave the idea in my ask box! (i can’t promise i’ll write it, but if the idea really speaks to me, i might)
MDNI !! hey peeps!! just so you know, i will be making another list of shorter fics ( under 1k ) and a haechan smau masterlist!! lmk if youre interested, will also keep on adding to this list btw!!
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lights out , lights out pt2 - @ hhaechansmoless - 17.8k + 15.8k
if i lose my mind, if i lose my mind 2 - @ slightlymore - 14.5k + 11k
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love virus , love virus 2 - @ twilightau - 7.6k + 5.6k
love jones , love jones 2 - @ lisired - 12.4k + 13.1k
would you film my s*x tape? - @ sweetiechenle
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risking it all , risking it all pt2 - @ kiszjuli -15.3k + 7.4k
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sugar, butter, & the royal crown - @ haechwrites - 17.1k
SYNOPSIS: Lee Jeno is in desperate need of release. The problem is he’s not exactly stuck on the whole groupie concept, that’s where you come in. His bartender friend who’s a struggling writer that’s in need of some real inspiration. The suggestion is simple, friends with benefits. The only catch is, don’t fall in love, which should be easy considering the two of you have no intention of ever falling in love anyway.
WORD COUNT: 28k
WARNINGS: humor, fluff, angst (if you squint), smut (MDNI), public sex (does in a car count), unprotected sex (pls wrap it up), biting, fingering, oral (f!recieving), light sub/dom play, cum eating, mutual masterbation, these two are very dense, they’re also extremely silly
BEFORE YOU READ: reading the first story isn’t necessary but there are many appearances and references to things in the first one so to better understand read Francis Forever!
NOTES: I’m sooo sorry about the delay for this one but it’s here and instead of posting on friday i decided why not now! I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing!!
explore the 𝑹𝑶𝑪𝑲𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹 𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑺 here!
spotify playlist that helped inspire me while writing can be found here
Part One: Early Spring
Sugar, we’re going down
☆ 📚 ☆
You stood in the center of the familiar crowded office, your lip in between your teeth as a sort of calming method. It was complete silence safe for the ticking of the clock that crescendoed with every second, building up your anticipation.
It was half past three which meant that if you were lucky, you’d have time to arrive home for a quick celebration with your cat, Meowy, before getting ready for your shift later tonight. You were confident this time, there were only so many mistakes you could’ve made after about ten different overviews of the same work.
The cough along with the sound of glasses hitting the table was enough for you to concede that the read through was complete. You were about to speak when the cherry haired woman spoke.
“No.”
Your feet would’ve collapsed into themselves if it wasn’t for the chair in front of you that your hands grasped at for dear life. You were sure she could hear the squeak of your last bit of humanity slipping away.
“I must end it all,” your head shakes, refusing to meet the eyes of your friend, Shuhua.
She sighs, the scene in front of her reminiscent of the past few times you had asked her to read over your work. “Don’t be dramatic, get up.”
You stood up straight again, her soft nod a quiet way of telling you to take a seat. Ever since you were young you’d wanted to become a writer, and luckily enough working as a Bartender for one of the city's most frequented exclusive bars had its perks. You met Shuhua around the first month of working there, having built a friendship ever since she ordered a dirty martini. She was the owner of one of the biggest Publishing companies, and was very willing to help accomplish your dream.
Only that took way more effort than you ever thought possible. Shuhua was very confident in your work, the only problem was that she thought you weren’t being authentic enough. It wasn’t like you weren’t trying to, it’s just that sometimes work dragged on and took most of your energy for the day, and by the time you met the deadline, your work came out rushed in areas.
“Y/N,” Shuhua starts, your voice ringing out and cutting her off before she could continue.
“It’s the Amusement Park scene right? I was half asleep when I wrote it that morning and I should’ve read over it again before printing it out.” You spit out, words tangled together because unfortunately you were always one to grow chatty when nervous.
“That’s not the problem,” Shuhua answers flatly. Your brows furrow. “Chapter thirty two.”
You flushed red, of course you knew what part that was. Not exactly because of it being your own writing, you could forget your own name if it weren’t for your nametag, but because it was the scene you dreaded most when you went over the draft.
Smut scene, not exactly your forte.
“Y/N, I mean this with all uttermost respect, are you even trying?” She flips open the book onto the page in question. “He kisses me. Very nicely.” She reads the words you wrote aloud and you could feel yourself sinking into the seat with every next sentence.
“I mean seriously,” She tosses the book down once again, “Is there a reason your skills become equivalent to that of a six year old when you write a smut scene?”
“I’d be concerned if a six year old was writing that.”
“You know what I mean,” She sighs, “Look Y/N I mean this as a friend, but even more as a publisher, I know you can do better than this. The rest of the novel is proof of that.”
You smile at the compliment. That means she at least liked the majority of the story.
“Wipe that smile off of your face,” You frown again. “Tell me, what’s the problem? You can’t exactly have a smut book without any of the smut.”
It wasn’t that you weren’t trying to write smut, it had been the best way to navigate the built up emotions from both characters who seemingly hated each other before that, it was necessary. You hadn’t taken into account just how lacking you were in that department until you sat at four am, your computer brightness at full.
“The problem might be me,” You confess. “It’s not like I have much experience to base anything off of.”
Shuhua sighs, “No, that’s not your fault, some men don’t exactly offer the best services when it comes to getting off.” She meant that. It had been the topic of the first conversation you both shared after about three dirty martinis.
“Guess it doesn’t help that the closest I've been to touching a man’s body in a year is brushing hands with the DreamCafe cashier the other day.”
Shuhua’s gaze is pitiful, “Y/N, are you serious?” You nod. “God this is going to end up published five years from now if we keep up this pace.”
You purse your lips, not exactly knowing how to respond. Your list of experiences was about the size of a quick shopping list, and it wasn’t like you were against the idea of sex either, you just were a bit too busy to just go around looking for the first attractive man in your area. Most of the guys around were ugly too, and if they weren’t then they were clients at your workplace, which meant it was a no-go.
The last thing you needed was to bump into a one night stand asking for a shot of whiskey. Besides you’d been hit on enough at your job to know that most men were way too easy, and something about that just grossed you out. Your friend's eyes brighten, an idea taking place in her mind that forms into a smirk on her face.
“What?” You ask, looking around the room as if it wasn’t just the two of you in there.
“I say this with all of my heart,” she raises a brow, “if you want a good story, you have got to get laid.”
You chuckle nervously, standing up and wiping off your pants. “No thank you!”
“Nope Y/N I’m serious,” She raises her voice slightly, she always did this with other clients but when it was directed to you it was a bit scary. “Consider it. It might get your creative juices flowing.”
“I don’t really want to think about any juices right now.”
Shuhua rolls her eyes, picking up your paper and reaching forward to pass it to you. “You have amazing skill Y/N, I am not at all doubtful of that, but I think that this could help you sort things out better. If you don’t want to of course you don’t have to, but if that’s the case then I’d consider publishing this without the smut scenes.”
You were barely out of the door when you began contemplating her suggestion. The smut scene was necessary. There was zero way that you were going to publish the book without it, it would feel like you gave up if you did.
You groaned loudly, the stares from the workers occupying the same elevator going unfazed with how deep in thought you were. Maybe Shuhua was right? Maybe hooking up with someone would make things easier for you as a writer. You always get the best inspiration when you force yourself to explore new things.
The only issue now was who would be your pick? The last thing you needed was to join a dating app and end up meeting a serial killer, you saw that in a movie once. Time felt like a ticking bomb now. If you wanted this book done by the end of the year, you had to do something about your problem, and you had to do it immediately.
☆ 🎸☆
The subtle bed squeaks and giggles were something Jeno usually had zero problem sleeping through, after all for a good few years he was the main person causing those noises. Countless hookups and one night stands he brought back to the shared apartment that he thought didn’t matter much anyway because the other guys were just as loud as he was, except for Jisung and Mark, and because it’s not like any of the girls they saw were here to stay.
He was regretful now as he laid in bed, his pillow squeezed tight around his ears to try and tune out the rest of the world from outside his bedroom door. Now the problem was simple, he was growing a bit more frustrated the past weeks. The rise of Oblivion was still subtle, but he wasn’t a stranger to the city anymore.
And most would assume that was the best part of their growing fame but really it was the opposite. Jeno never really got the whole Groupie thing, sure he tried it a few times but really revisiting the same face every night wasn’t his style. Usually because it ended up causing assumptions to be made. Like your balls deep in a girl four times out of a week and suddenly she thinks that means that she can stay over and make you dinner, or call you baby and make arrangements to introduce you to her friends.
Jeno shuddered, the memory of Lia making him cringe. He had been in a dry spell ever since. It wasn’t so bad at first, Jeno was an introvert by nature so unless he was tagging along with Donghyuck and Jaemin at their club escapes he was pretty content staying home and hoping on league. But lately he felt like he was really going to go insane, it didn’t help that every other night there were enough sounds he was shocked there hadn’t been any noise complaints.
Jaemin had suggested he just cave in, let the groupies run their course explaining that not all of them really searched for something more. Jeno declined. Jaemin wasn’t much of a convincing person when he had a stalker problem not even three months ago.
But now as he hopes that the pillow on his face can cut off enough of the oxygen in his body to have him pass out for at least a couple of hours so he wouldn’t have to hear the monstrosities happening outside, he thinks maybe it would’ve been better if he did have a hookup he could meet up with right about now just to save his eardrums.
He decided for the next best option. Going on a walk and making his grand escape hopefully before the funny business got any louder. He shoved off the pillow, pulling up his phone to check the time. Right on schedule.
Jeno tried to open and close the door quietly enough to make his presence unknown, but unfortunately the great squeak from the hinges had betrayed him. Causing both his friend, Jisung, and Jisung’s girlfriend to shoot up from where they sat very comfortably on one another on the couch, in a position that made Jeno wish his vision was worse than it already was.
“I- Jeno! When did you get here?” Jisung stuttered, his cheeks growing red by the second.
“Never left,” Jeno shrugged, “sup Darling.”
The girl only smiled tightly, refusing to meet his eyes after he’d caught the two in a compromising position. Jisung scowled, not a fan of how popular the nickname had become within the group of guys since he’s the one that created it in the first place. There was no use in arguing against it now though, not when their fans had already began to implement the nickname themselves.
“Y’know if you’re going to fuck it would probably be better not to on the couch, it’s kind of a general rule.” One that Jeno could attest to never breaking.
“We weren’t going to–“ Jisung’s brows furrowed in annoyance? It was always so easy to tease the guy. He took a breath instead, ignoring the obvious bait. “It’s four pm, you do understand that right?”
“Yep,” Jeno starts, “Late night.”
Usually Late Night was code for a more rated R style of living. Now poor loser Jeno used the term for what were nights of binge watching Formula One Race highlights and an occasional jackoff session when he really couldn’t sleep. What? It was scientifically proven that release made for better sleep quality.
Darling chose to finally speak then, “Tomorrow you should post a picture or something, fans are wondering what their favorite drummer has been up to.”
He cringed, not too sure just how much fans would be interested in his new super boring lifestyle. “Yeah sure, i’ll get to that.” He could probably just take some pictures today while he’s out running to post for later. “Everyone else out?”
Jisung nods, his attention on the TV as he scrolls through what shows and movies were suggested. “I think Mark went to go help his mom back home today and Jaemin tagged along.”
“He’s not trying to get into Mark’s noonas pants anymore right?”
In Jeno’s humble opinion as a twenty five year old, engagement at twenty six seemed pretty soon but to each their own. No seriously, because his parents themselves were pretty adamant on him finding a potential girlfriend and or wife soon.
He shakes off the thought, “Hyuck?”
“Who knows, the guy has been way too secretive lately for someone who loves to be in everyone else’s business.”
“You’re still mad he tried joining us on our first date?” Darling reached forward tugging on Jisung’s cheek, a smile on full display.
Jisung rolled his eyes, “Tried is an understatement, he literally sat at the table right next to us.”
Darling only cooed at him, the two becoming lost in their own little world of smiles and extreme public display of affection. Jeno held back a groan of annoyance, instead choosing peace. Since it was late that at least meant that he had time to stop by the bar, he was pretty sure you were scheduled to work today also so why not make things better by venting all of his problems with a couple of drinks in between.
“I’m going out,” He announced to nobody apparently since neither one of them spared him short of a glance.
Apparently tonight was an exception to an empty club, what with being a Thursday. He’d made an entrance and beelined directly to the bar, which was a bit busier than he usually found it.
You were busy serving up someone’s drink to notice him, a man who stared at you a bit longer than some may deem normal. It wasn’t long until you slid over a glass to the man, who took it with a small glint in his eye and offered up a piece of paper before whispering to you and walking away.
“What’s that about?” Jeno asked curiously, though he was sure he knew exactly what it was about.
You barely flinched, having already noticed his presence before he spoke. “Number,” You groaned before throwing it into the trash, “Why are all of these rich folks so greedy. I work for tips not for numbers.”
Jeno laughs, “Oh I'm sure he wanted to give you a tip alright.”
You deadpanned, already concocting his drink of choice, “You’re here early.”
“Couldn’t exactly get anything else done,” He smiled sweetly in thanks as you slid over the glass.
You giggled, knowing exactly what he was implying. “Donghyuck?”
“Worse, Jisung.”
That got your attention, the shock in your face masked by your hand coming up to stop yourself from laughing. “Wait really?”
“Unfortunately,” Jeno sighs, “It seems he’s been getting more action than me nowadays.”
Your brows furrow, “Is Lee Jeno in a dry spell?”
“The worst kind,” He groaned, downing the rest of the drink with a quick chug. “I mean seriously, you know how tired my wrist is?”
You laugh, “Whatever happened with Lia?”
Jeno let out another sigh, “Didn’t last long at all. None of them do, at some point they think that they’ll get a little love story when I make it very clear from the start that i’m in no way looking for anything like that. Doesn’t help that because of Jisung and Darling, people assume the rest of us are looking for that.”
“Ah yes,” You slide over another serving you must’ve mixed while he started his rant. “Who would dare assume a twenty five year old wants to settle down.”
“I’m serious,” You chuckle, proceeding to make another person drink while he continues to rant. “It’s like no matter how up front I am about only wanting casual sex people expect to change my mind. It’s exhausting.”
“Tell me about it,” You sigh, “The persistence of some men around here really does give me the creeps. The other day I had to ask Heejin to walk me to my car cause this guy kept saying he would see me after my shift.”
Jeno frowns in concern, “You could’ve called me to pick you up.”
You shrug it off, “It was late anyway, and I had things to take care of.”
“Ah,” Jeno laughs, “You’re still working on that porno.”
“Will you shut up?” You look around frightened that anyone overheard him, lucky for you the crowd had died down.
“Have a drink with me?”
You raise a brow. “I’m on the clock.”
“Then after.” Jeno replies, taking another sip from his glass.
“I’m not drinking that fuck ass poison you sip on.”
He holds back a laugh, “You forget you’re the one who invented it.”
The memory springs to life, the first time you’d practiced mixing drinks for your bartender certification and Jeno being your willing subject. In his defense, he could handle his liquor quite a bit, and being young and broke meant that he’d take any ounce of free alcohol necessary.
You had mixed the worst kinds of alcohols together, whiskeys and tequila stirred into a concoction that somehow looked purple. Jeno had taken a careful sip, not before asking you just how safe it was, and though it must’ve been the most awful thing he’d ever tasted he couldn’t help but give you a shaky thumbs up. You’d been so excited to make your own recipe, and he was in no way going to burst your bubble.
It became his drink of choice since then, and despite the fact that you had tried it for the first time a year ago and realized just how disgusting it was, he continued to order it anyway. Maybe it grew on him, or maybe he just happened to succumb to Stockholm syndrome. Nevertheless, it was still his first choice.
“Yeah and i’ve since then improved, thank you very much,” You wring out a rag to clean up the table where some drunk had spilled a bit of his beer on the counter.
Jeno hums, “So then why don’t you prove it to me? Drinks later?”
You roll your eyes, never really able to say no to him. “If you can wait a couple of more hours.”
He nods, his eye smile mimicking that of a crescent moon. “Done.”
☆ 📚 ☆
Your shift went by quicker once Jeno had stopped by. Most of the drinks for the rest of the night were easy shots of whiskey that you served for the other customers besides him since you’d planned on drinking together. And it was nice, being able to make a bit of casual conversation in between working. It was always a relief when Jeno visited, even if that meant he teased you out loud a few times even in front of customers.
Luckily for him, you spared him a beating because he promised to buy your favorite. Somaek.
“I still remember when you would gag every time I ordered a beer,” Jeno jokes, poking at the last piece of fried chicken from the take out you guys had picked up before arriving at your own place.
You laughed, louder than you had to because alcohol always had a way of making you giggle over any and everything. “I told you, when you mix Soju you can’t taste the gross beer flavor.”
Jeno hums, smiling at you as you devoured the chicken like it was the last meal on earth. His smile quickly vanished when he got a notification on his phone, the brightness only peeking for a second before he clicked his phone off.
“Who is it?”
“Lia,” Jeno groans, “she wants to know if i’d be down to meet up.” You hum, taking a last swig of your glass of somaek. “The worst part is if I were even slightly more tipsy, I think I would’ve caved in.
“You’re insane,” You laugh, the man only meeting your eyes with a look of desperation.
“Yeah unfortunately.”
You pause for a moment, your mind trying to fight against oversharing because when you were about two drinks in you got to that point. Ultimately you lost the internal battle.
“I’m not having too good of luck in that department either,” You match Jeno’s energy with a sigh. “What makes it worse is that Shuhua says I gotta get laid cause it’s making my book bland.”
He coughs, “What?”
“Yeah,” You continue. “Don’t laugh but I've been really struggling writing a few of the more.. intense scenes. I’m really trying though, it’s just the idea of sex with a random stranger really is weirding me out. Then there’s the deadline, I wanted to have this done by the end of the year but Shuhua’s convinced that unless I get hands on inspiration then i’m totally fucked. Not literally but figuratively—“
“Wait wait wait,” Jeno interrupts you. “You’re telling me Shuhua told you to find somebody to fuck or kiss the book deal goodbye?”
“No? She said I could always just take out any sex scenes.”
Jeno snaps his fingers then, raising his glass to his lips. “But you’re perverted and refuse to.”
You frown, “I’m not perverted! Last I checked i’m not some freak who got hard on a carnival ride.” The memory of Disco pang pang was horrifying at the time it happened, now it was funny to look back on. Especially when you used it against him.
Jeno flushes red, “I told you to stop with that already! I wasn’t hard, it was my phone in my pocket.”
“Yeah sure thing neno,” You winked, pouring yourself another two to three ratio of soju and beer, Jeno’s hand subtly moving to help steady the glass as you poured the shot of soju into it.
“You’re irritating,” He rolled his eyes, though you could tell by the small smile tugging on the corner of his mouth that he was far from being angry at all. It’s just the way the two of you teased one another.
“And you,” you raise your glass like you were making a toast. “need to get laid.”
He lets out a dry chuckle, raising his own drink to clink yours. “Can’t argue with that.”
As you sip down the now room temperature beer, the bitter taste hardly effective since you were now tipsy enough you could hardly taste alcohol, an idea hit you straight on like a bus. You eyed the man in front of you, him being completely clueless to how you were observing him like he was a science experiment.
He was busy calling out meowy’s name with a few psst psst in between to get her to stop playing hard to get and let him pet her. By the time he set your cat onto his lap your mouth spoke before your brain could stop it.
“We should have sex!”
Jeno’s eyes widened tenfold, and because of how you’d forgotten to adjust your volume before speaking, meowy became startled and ran straight out of the living room space and into your bedroom.
His silence lasted long enough for you, despite the cloudy mind, to understand just how bizarre the suggestion was without any explanation. So you gave him just that.
“Think about it neno,” The usage of the childish pet name in this topic of discussion caused you to slightly cringe. “You need to get laid because your brain refuses to function without direct stimulation to your– thing.” You emphasized the word by jerking your hand forward in the direction of his crotch. “And I need to get laid so I can get inspiration for my book!”
The man was too stunned to speak, his hands coming up to his face to rub at his eyes like this was a dream. Unfortunately for him, it was not. “You can’t be serious.” He finally speaks.
You nod, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know y/n maybe because i’m your best friend and I don't think we’ve ever seen each other in that way?”
Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes, “There’s no romance to this at all. Sure attraction plays a subtle part in this but it’s mostly about trust.” He sits still for a moment, pondering.
“We don’t have to, it was just a suggestion.”
You say it as if the words that left your mouth weren’t just a ticking time bomb in Jeno’s poor mind. You took another swig of your drink, falling into the same ordinary rhythm the two of you had from earlier.
Jeno speaks up barely holding in a cough when he asks, “Trust?”
You nod again, “I don’t really want to just sleep with just any guy, most of them don’t even know how to please a woman let alone charm them. I need inspiration, not regrets.”
Jeno smiles at that, “So you’re saying I know how to please women?”
Instead of falling into his bait you offer a shrug, "I've heard word, why? You saying what I heard is wrong?”
He chuckles lightly ignoring your dig, “Not at all. Just taking precaution. Wouldn’t want you to end up like Lia.”
You suck your teeth in annoyance, “You wouldn’t have to worry about anything, it’s not like it would change anything.”
“Y/N,” He calls your name again. Only this time there’s no teasing, no mocking. “You do realize that sex can change a lot of things for some people.” He speaks honestly, most of it coming from experience of countless horror hookup stories you’d heard first hand time and time again. “I trust you a lot, and i’m not against the idea but I don’t want things to ever get weird for either of us,” Jeno sighs. “The last thing I want is to make things complicated.”
“Well then it’s a good thing that none of us are looking for anything more than sex.” You reply directly. “The best part is it shouldn’t be awkward at all, we know each other well enough.”
Jeno takes a moment, a deep breath of consideration while you’re busy swirling your glass around.
“Okay,” He answers, your gaze falling over to him in an instant. “We can talk more about this later then, when you’re not drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.”
He hums, “How many fingers?” He asks as innocent as ever, contradictory to his middle finger standing straight and tall in your face.
“One,” You answer, shoving his hand away. “and you can shove it up your ass, asshole.”
He smirks, “According to our earlier conversation you’d probably prefer it up yours.”
“Motherfucker—“
“I’m serious though Y/N, we can talk more about this later.”
You frown. “Fine,” You stand up from where you sat on the floor, “then i’m going to bed.”
“Go ahead,” He says it like it’s his own house. “I’ll clean this up.”
“Sure,” You reply, stretching your arms and legs before heading for your bedroom. “Use the spare by the way, don’t go home this late.”
You were able to afford an apartment with a spare bedroom, one that Jeno often occupied. Especially these days with how many people were staying in the band’s shared apartment these days.
“Yeah yeah, make sure not to sleep on your back, the last thing I want to wake up to is you dead from choking on your own vomit.”
“Don’t say things like that!” You shout in disgust, earning a laugh from him.
“Goodnight neno.”
“Night, Princess.”
☆ 🎸☆
Jeno always knew you were unpredictable, but this moment really took the cake.
He had cleaned up your apartment, figuring that the more he kept his mind occupied the less he had to actually overthink the arrangement you had suggested.
On one hand, the message was clear. You both got along so well because of how similar the two of you viewed the world. Hookups were nothing more than a sense of relief for you both, so as much as he loved to tease, he knew that there really was nothing to worry about. The other hand was complicated because for some reason he began to over analyze everything.
How would this work? Would the act itself be awkward? Would this ruin your friendship? Is this a one and done deal?
There were too many variables to consider, and Jeno wasn’t sure how this would go about if you weren’t just talking out of your drunk mind and really meant it. He took a deep breath as he stared into the mirror in your bathroom, setting down the toothbrush he had there because of course he had his own.
And as he laid in the spare bedroom, the subtle scent of your lavender sheets filling his brain, he chose to do what was either going to be the worst mistake in his life, or the best.
Really though, what was the worst thing that could happen? The both of you have sex and hate it?
“I stand by what I said,” You mumbled over the spoon in your mouth. “I think it could do us both good.”
Jeno had barely gotten the sentence out when you brought up the question again, this time over breakfast without any alcohol in your system to use as a cushion in case Jeno declined. Though Jeno wasn’t too sure you needed it anyway.
You were firm with your question, not in a way that made him feel like he had to agree but instead as if it was a simple request such as, What should we have for dinner? and not Do you want to have casual sex?
“You don’t have to agree with me, I can always figure out a solution to my own problems and I'm sure you’d have zero problems in that department either.” You added, looking over his arms that were pretty distracting. He was wearing a sleeveless tank top, the shirt of his he left with a pile of clothing, largely consisting of hoodies you had borrowed and forgot to give back, and clothes he kept at your place for the times he would stay over.
The issue was the opposite. Jeno has had many problems in that department lately.
“Okay,” Jeno begins, clearing his throat. You reacted with wide eyes. “Yeah sure why not?”
You smile happily, as if he’d surprised you with an all paid trip to the Bahamas or something. “Jeno, you have no idea how much this is going to help me!”
He frowns, surely you couldn’t be that inexperienced. The two of you had countless stories shared. You especially had a habit of rambling about.
“Wait,” You hop out of your seat. “We need to make a list of rules!” Before Jeno can comment you’re already running to your room, returning slightly breathless with a pen and paper in hand.
You set it down on the table slowly beginning to move the pen drawing line after line, your writing was surprisingly messy for someone who was an author. Jeno didn’t comment on it though, he doesn’t have time when you’re already pushing him further down the dining bench, scooting closer to him as you set down the paper that now reads.
Rules for our arrangement.
“What’s this?” Jeno asks, earning a bored look from you that translates to, are you really asking?
“Rules, I think it’ll be best so we can note our boundaries before just hopping into things.” Your smile is tight but genuine, which only makes Jeno realize just how nervous you really are. You weren’t the type to show your fears, but you were always one to be cut and clear about anything else you felt.
Jeno nods along, smiling softly in hopes that it’ll help you feel less awkward. “Okay, what do you have in mind?”
You smile widely, this time with full fledged confidence. “I’m glad you asked. So for starters, I think it’s best we start this arrangement with a few notes on what we are okay with and things we aren’t okay with.”
“Like?” Jeno asks before taking a sip of water out of his cup.
“Like, Anal!” Jeno chokes on the beverage, coughing repeatedly to regain composure. His scene doesn’t alarm you much, so you press further. “I don’t ever want anything up there.” You state flatly.
“Sure,” He nods, having cleared his throat and this time taking a sip to fully clear out his throat. “it’s not really my thing either.”
“Great.” You write down the first rule, Sex will only involve things the both of us are okay with. And in parenthesis: No Anal.
“Is there anything you wouldn’t want to do?” You question him. Jeno tries to think, it’s a bit harder to think about when you’re put on the spot. There’s nothing he’s too uncomfortable with that he wouldn’t just say in the moment, so he opts for the obvious answer.
“No Anal.”
You let out a laugh, “Great I guess we're both on the same page then.”
This felt almost ridiculous, but as long as you were happy he wasn’t going to question much. “Another thing, I need your permission to allow all of our uh– experiences to be used as inspiration for my novel.”
“I know Y/N trust me i’m cool with it.”
“Okay because the last thing i’d want is for you to be offended or upset if I write something you disagree with.”
Jeno shook his head, “Nothing to be ashamed of, I have quite the reputation i’ve upkept.”
You scowled, his cocky attitude baiting your reaction. “Okay, but don’t be offended when I make sure to add your size.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat? Because I can show you now if you’d like.” Jeno replies mockingly, reaching for his shorts.
You reach to stop his hand, “Let’s keep it in your pants at least a little while longer.” He shrugs, his arms folding around his waist as you write.
“Are there any rules you want to add?”
Jeno ponders for a moment. There wasn’t much he thought he could add with all seriousness. The situation itself was not very serious on his part, sleeping with a close friend all because he couldn't find a regular hookup who didn’t want dinner dates and eventual marriage? He felt pretty ridiculous, but since you had been the one to suggest it, it at least kept him from feeling like a weirdo.
There was one thing he needed as a rule, something that would give him peace of mind going into this arrangement.
“We have to separate our sex life and our friendship.” He spoke after some time. You had met his eyes with a brow raised.
“I’m sure that’ll be a bit difficult considering we’re going to be friends who fuck.” You joke.
He lets out a small chuckle, before adding with complete sincerity. “I think it’s important that we keep both our sexual life and our friendship separate. There’s no reason to let any of it get mumbled and jumbled, that's why friends with benefits never work.”
“Right,” You breathe out. “So then you’d prefer?”
“I’d prefer that no matter what happens, things won’t ever change. No matter what. Even if we stop sleeping together, we need to remain friends.”
It wasn’t just a request, what he wanted was a promise. One on paper that was needed in the rare case that everything went to shit. He wouldn’t be able to agree to it at all if that wasn’t agreed upon.
You met his eyes, a reassuring smile on your face. “Then if at any point any one of us want out,” You scribble down the rest in handwriting he could hardly understand. “or for any other reason, we talk to each other.”
The room was met with silence as you finished writing down everything, reading it over like it was one of the ten commandments until the two of you had it ingrained in your brains.
The quietness only broke when Jeno laughed aloud after teasing you by moving his thumb away from the ink you had to stamp his fingerprint on the paper. All uneasiness or anxieties vanished just like that, the two of you rebooting back into your playful dynamic.
“There!” You exclaimed happily once Jeno gave in and allowed you to bring his red stamped finger onto the paper.
Jeno hardly had time to admire you, his phone alarm going off reminding him of the Band’s practice today. He locked his phone, the blasting sound coming to a quick halt in an instant.
“I have to go now.” Jeno stood up from the seat, sliding across the floor easily even while you were still sitting.
“Wait!” You stuttered, a blush reaching your face as all nervousness came back in full force. “Uh. When did you want to start? Y’know.. doing.. stuff.”
Jeno had to use every fiber of his being to resist making fun of you. “Whenever you want to.”
You nodded. “Then how about tomorrow? I don’t have work so we could maybe, I don't know, go out?”
Yeah, Jeno really had to use the last of his restraint. He chose to laugh instead, “You trying to ask me out on a date?”
You scowled, “I’m just trying to set the mood.”
“Yeah i’m not sure that’s how friends with benefits really works,” He says too casually for someone who has never been in that arrangement until now.
“Right.” You reply.
“Y/N,” he calls out. “You can just call whenever you want to.”
He hopes the implication is clear.
“Sure, you too.”
With the way you look at him he knows that you understood. There’s a quick goodbye before Jeno is out the door. He hopes the guys don’t mind his slight tardiness, though if he’s serious almost all of the group had a problem being late to practice.
He feels a bit of relief, the two of you having found solutions to your growing problems. Well, at least a bit of his growing problems, but it wasn’t something he’d like to dwell on at the moment.
There wasn’t much anxiety, at least on his part, more so the awkwardness radiating off of you not knowing how to start but he was sure that the feeling would shrink with time. If he weren’t booked and busy with practice at the moment, he would’ve probably tried easing your embarrassment using a different method. That was mostly him thinking with his dick, which nobody could blame him for, it had been a pretty hard couple of months.
All in all, Jeno couldn’t feel more confident. It was a win-win situation, and since the both of you had agreed and talked everything over he was sure that nothing would go wrong.
☆ 📚 ☆
The moment Jeno had left your home, you let out a deep sigh.
To be completely honest, you had woken up this morning pulling the hair from your head as memories flooded your mind. You weren’t even sure you had wanted to step out of your bedroom hearing the man lurk around the place from behind the door.
You debated resting until he finally gave up and left, but the growl your tummy had let out at the smell of everything delicious wafting into your room had caused you to cave in.
On the bright side, as much as you were stupid and impulsive, he’d actually agreed. It saved you the embarrassment of being rejected, not to brag but that wasn’t something you were accustomed to experiencing. And now all of it was hitting you, at full force.
Friends with benefits.
You genuinely had zero clue just how that worked, did this mean that now at any time either one of you could just call on one another like a booty call? You let out a sigh, Meowy let out a meow in response, like she was asking where the man had gone.
You weren’t quite sure that you made the best decision, but only time would tell. For now you could feel ease creeping up your spine, this would solve one problem for now and in the worst case scenario, it would probably end in bad sex.
It was a chance you were more than willing to make.
There was nothing that could’ve mentally prepared you for heading into this type of arrangement. And no it wasn’t the friendship thing, it was not knowing just how to jump start into sex without looking insane.
The two of you sat in your living room, barely any distance between the two of you where you lay on the floor, watching the TV. Which was ironically out of the norm when the two of you were usually cuddling during your movie marathons. Everything felt off, even the movie playing on the TV that truthfully you randomly picked and now realized was definitely not something you were rating higher than one star on Letterboxd later.
Meowy had made herself a bit too comfortable with Jeno. Lying on his lap like nothing mattered in the world more than his hands petting her. Ridiculously enough, you felt a short wave of envy, shoving that feeling down immediately because in what world would you be jealous of your cat for living carelessly.
You were sure it had been almost an hour of just sitting next to each other, not a single one of you moving a single bone in your body. You were pretty sure he was waiting for a signal, but every time you had the nerve to try, you shrank in on yourself in an instant, overthinking everything. It was like the moment had long passed, that was until the worst thing imaginable happened.
There were moans blaring out of the TV, the movie having shifted from its weird cultish horror vibe into a porno. Meowy wasn’t a fan of the shift in volume, hopping off of your friend and walking away into her cat bed. You cursed silently, of course your cat would leave you to fend for yourself.
The uncomfortable silence filled the room, safe for the excruciatingly long sex scene playing out in front of you that felt like it was mocking you. You were suddenly thankful the room was dim enough that your redness would go unseen.
“Are you trying to subliminally tell me something?” Jeno whispered, his voice too close to your ear that only made you blush harder.
You refused to meet his gaze, if you did then you’d lose the last of your dignity. For a moment you weren’t sure how to reply, deciding to use all of your strength to sound as confident as ever. “If I was then would that finally get the ball rolling?”
He chuckled, his hand suddenly slipping around your waist. “Is that what you were waiting for?”
There were always times where the two of you would have a conversation and he’d allow his cocky nature to slip out. This time felt different though, it was like the room shifted with his tone.
“Yes.”
His eyes widened at your response, a slight falter from not having expected you to be so honest. “Then I'm sorry I kept you waiting.” He answers truthfully. His arms suddenly pull you closer to sit on his lap. The same arms that he left on full display with his sleeveless shirt, it really didn’t make things any easier for you. You’d been making subtle glances at them hoping he was into manhandling, which seems now you were right.
“How should I make it up to you?” He tilts your chin up with his fingers. Your faces are only inches apart. Damn he was good at this. You were aware of his game, you’d seen it play out many times in person. But why did it suddenly feel so different when it was directed at you? You suck in a breath, his thumb tracing the side of your stomach louder than the long forgotten movie playing behind you.
“Y/N,” He calls your name. “We don’t have to do anything.” His voice is soft and reassuring, only adding fuel into the growing heat.
“I want to, it's just,” You frown, hoping you don’t sound ridiculous. “I don’t know how to start.”
He nods in understanding, his palm wrapping around your cheek. “Do you want me to lead?”
“Please.”
You were sure you came off a bit more desperate than you meant to, but with the way his hips suddenly shifted just a fraction gave you the feeling he wasn’t complaining.
“Okay.” His voice is featherlight, you could feel his breath quicken as he closes the distance between you. “Then is this okay?” He asks, his thumb still tracing over your body, now fixated on the lower curve of your back.
You barely manage to nod before he’s connecting his mouth onto yours, a short peck to feel out the action before fully engaging. If any of your worries still existed they were certainly gone now, tuned out by the heavy beating of your heart. You leaned forward this time, your lips meeting this time with much less hesitation.
Jeno brought his right hand up to cup your face, his left hand around your waist, the grip firm to hold you in place. His teeth bite into your bottom lip, pulling a tiny gasp from you just to slide his tongue over the skin. You take that as a challenge, meeting him with your own eagerness and sliding your own tongue into his to deepen the kiss.
He groans, his hips shifting you into a more comfortable position on him. You’re not sure how many seconds pass like that. You slightly grind against him, the simple peck from earlier turned into a full on makeout session. Your hands fondling his arms to keep yourself from losing all of your balance as it grows heated. And just as your chest begins to tighten with every breath of yours being stolen by him, he pulls away.
You take in a deep breath trying to steady yourself, his eyes meeting yours with a question. One that you already have an answer to.
“Bedroom.”
The word comes out rushed and whiny, earning a low chuckle from him before he lifts you up with him. You had of course made out with people before, most of that happening in your early college years but this time was different. Jeno had taken your breath away but with that all motor function too, you noticed it now as your feet felt way too light.
He must’ve picked up on it, instead lifting you into his arms like you weighed equivalent to a pillow to him, and heading straight towards your bedroom. “Neno–“ You squeaked out, caught off guard by his sudden action. You couldn’t see his face from how he was carrying you over his shoulder but you were sure he was giving his signature samoyed smile.
You were proved right a moment later as he steadily set you down onto your bed. “Tell me, Princess, just how many book drafts of yours played out like this?”
Your cheeks reddened, he was spot on with the question. Male lead plopping the Main Character onto the bed before pounding into her with zero warning. The only thing that was missing was the use of his belt as a restraint for the main character’s hands. As much as that sounded interesting though, it was a little too early to hop into something as complex as that. So for the meantime, this would do.
It must’ve been a rhetorical question, since he doesn’t give you time to answer before he's lifting your shirt up and off your body. You pull him in for another kiss, all tongue and teeth, your patience growing thin with every second building up. You let out a happy sound, one that he drinks up, one hand sliding against your back to unclasp your bra in a quick second.
You push him back, noting the messy hair and the way his chest is practically begging for air. “You are way too good at that.”
“What can I say, i’ve had some practice.” He replies, meeting your mouth for a deep but short kiss compared to the ones before. You get the memo and start removing your own bra, discarding it onto the floor. But as a simple minded woman who believes in equality, and seriously loves a nice chest even on a man, you lift his shirt up all the same, meeting your own pair of fabric somewhere you couldn’t care less about.
He detaches from your lips, his mouth leaving kisses around your neck before slowly making it down to your breasts. “Fuck, you’re just as beautiful as I imagined.”
“Have you imagined me in this position on multiple occasions?” You tease, not expecting an answer.
“Only since I had to leave you to go practice when we signed our lives away.”
“That was only a day ago.”
“Really? It felt way longer than that.” Your words catch in your throat with how close his breath is over your sensitive nipple, every nerve in your body on standby waiting for him to do something. Lucky you, he doesn’t leave you waiting any longer. His mouth connecting around your chest and sucking harsh enough to make you moan.
The pleasure is foreign to you, the only experience you had being your own hands pinching against your chest whenever you seeked pleasure by yourself. Other men had usually disregarded that part of your body at all, unless of course they used it to their own benefit, squeezing onto your chest as if it were their own personal stressball. With every lick to your nub it sent a jolt to your body, growing hotter.
You could barely keep your eyes open now, focusing all of your attention on keeping the noise down because it wasn’t like you owned the house, it was rented. Jeno’s hand snakes down again, this time sliding through the elastic waistband of your shorts, tracing the thin fabric of your panties slick with your arousal.
“Neno please,” You whine, your hips growing weak even to the slightest touch of his fingers against you, subconsciously trying to grind down on his hands.
He detaches from your lips, his gaze hazy while he meets yours. You can already feel the ache on your chest from the littered bruises he’s left forming. Jeno must be growing impatient too, because he’s pulling down your shorts at your plea in record breaking time.
“Lube?”
“The bottom drawer to the right.”
The loss of his touch feels like an eternity of hell until he’s back again. Your cunt clenching against nothing as his hand pushes your legs further apart. You have to give yourself a moment to calm your nerves, the sound of the bottle opening signaling them to come back at full force.
“Fuck baby,” Jeno starts. “We might not even need that much with how wet you are for me.”
As cocky as he sounds, it only fuels your fire. Fuck Jeno for living up to his expectations without even having fucked you yet. You already felt stupid enough.
He slides a finger through the lace fabric, shoving it to the side as his middle finger pushes through your folds, the bed talk stalling you for long enough to warm the lube he’d gathered onto his fingers. It worked well, your cunt squeezing around his finger from where he curled it up. His fingers were much thicker than yours, a feeling you hadn’t felt in quite a while because you’d been the one prepping yourself most of the time.
“Another one please,” You breathe out. His ringer finger pushes in next, filling you up more and causing another moan to push past your lips.
“You’re so tight,” He mutters, his eyes zoned in on the way your cunt sucks in his fingers. His hand is moving on its own then, dragging slowly out of you before pushing in with more force. You let out another whine, your thighs threatening to shut on instinct to which he pinches them.
You wince, caught off guard by the sudden sharp pain as he smoothes his finger over the spot. “Keep them open, be a good girl and do that for me.”
The nickname does something to you, call it a hidden praise kink you hadn’t even realized you had until now. Jeno’s fingers are moving with much more pace now, not enough to completely satisfy you but enough to have you seconds from begging for more. His mouth clashes against yours again, swallowing every low noise you make as his fingers scissor you apart, and when he finally adds the third finger you feel seconds away from snapping.
You accidentally bite down on his lip, a warm metallic taste meeting your mouth that you can’t help but to taste more of. Jeno has no issue with this, the thrust of his fingers getting more urgent than before, his tongue begging to taste more of his own blood mixed with the sugary taste you have from snacking on artificially flavored gummies.
“Fu–nghh— neno”
You’re close, and all it takes is one sharp thrust of his fingers curling right into the spot you needed him most to have you finishing. Your eyes rolling back with the very welcome feeling of your orgasm washing over you.
His fingers continue to move, dragging out your pleasure for as long as he could until you're wincing from the overstimulation to which he removed them, your cunt suddenly far too empty. You feel like your soul has been knocked out of your body, taking a few deep breaths to gather the last of your energy.
“Are you okay?”
The chuckle slips out of your lips before you can even stop it. “Dude you just made me cum from your fingers alone and you’re asking that?”
Jeno looks around, confused on how that’s a shocking revelation. “Yes?”
You sigh, “I’m okay, just need a moment.” You open your eyes, his large frame still holding your thighs apart in between you. You probably shouldn’t laugh at a moment like this, but he really looks just like an obedient puppy waiting for your next move.
He catches the smile on your face, his expression growing confused. “What?”
“Nothing, you just look really cute right now.”
He frowns, “Aren’t I supposed to look hot and sexy and so unresistable you can’t help but climb onto me?”
You shrug, “sure you look all of those things too.”
His frown deepens, he cups your hands with his own, holding them on either side of you, Not rough at all, if you wanted to you could move him off of you, but a part of you really liked the illusion of him pinning you down. Perhaps another time he’d really use all of his strength, now that idea sent another wave of arousal in between your legs.
Jeno catches on quickly, how can he not with the way you’re squirming around. “You like being manhandled?”
You don’t answer. You trace over his body instead, eyeing the very prominent bulge in his pants. Since your legs were free now you bring up your knee, rubbing it ever so slightly against him. He shutters at the contact.
“Neno,” You whisper his name like it was a prayer. “I think i’m ready for the next round.”
He lets out a short laugh, though there’s hardly any humor in his tone whatsoever. You take note of his ears, the faint pink from how badly he must’ve been holding back. If you were reading him correctly, that meant he was probably too close to snapping. You were thankful he was focused on your knee rubbing against him, cause if he saw your expression now it would’ve given yourself away.
He lets go of where he had your hands, giving you the opportunity to wrap them around him and feel up his muscles you’d been way too distracted earlier to fully admire.
“Fuck–“ He groans. The sound like music to your ears and further encouraging you to touch him. He pulls his shorts down slightly, revealing the waistband of his boxers, the print of his dick making your mouth water.
You’re already reaching forward, cupping him firmly. A wince sounding from his lips. “Can I?”
He nods. You hook down the fabric, his thick and needy cock slapping against him fully erect and flushed against him. You pump him twice, using your other hand to reach for the condom he’d grabbed earlier when he got the bottle of lube.
There was no going back after this, you did realize that as you rolled the condom down onto him. “You’re sure about this?” He asked one last time, his breathing heavy waiting for your answer to finally cave in.
“Never been more sure.” Within the next second you feel the stretch as he pushes into you, your cunt squeezing his thick girth inches at a time until your hips meet his own. He gives you enough time to adjust, kissing down the side of your shoulder to help calm your nerves.
It’s far from your first time, but this was nothing like any of the men you’d had before. His size fills you up in all of the ways you’d only thought possible in some kind of fairy tale.
The sound of your name being called makes you open your eyes that you hadn’t even realized were shut. You clench around him unintentionally, pulling a groan from his throat that only feeds your confidence. You could tell based off of how his arms tightened their hold around you, how wrecked he was.
“You can move.”
He wastes no time, setting a slow pace that somehow drives him directly to your sweet spot. He’s way less quieter than you’d assumed he’d be in bed, his noises low yet heavy, matching your moans as he continues to thrust inside you.
It doesn’t take long for you to feel your orgasm approaching once more. And with how patient he’d been, it was like a prayer had been answered.
“Neno I- I’m—“
“I know baby me too,”
With an embarrassing amount of thrusts the two of you came undone together. His mouth landing on yours to capture the last of your screams as your pussy clenched around him with your release, triggering him to finish into the condom.
After a quick moment of the two of you registering everything, you can’t help but laugh, Jeno's wounded expression only causing you to laugh more.
“I’m sorry it’s just,” You catch your breath, stopping yourself from looking any more insane than you probably did now. “Fuck, those girls were really not lying.” His head tilted in confusion. “You really are big.”
He laughs then, "That's really nice and all but if you keep saying things like that I might have another problem.” He replies, referring to the fact that he’d just come once and was not quite ready for another round.
“What’s that saying? What’s one’s problem is another's solving?” You smirk.
He scoffs, pulling out of you with a swift action that makes you wince. “You could barely last one round, save it for next time.”
“Me?” You gasp. Jeno stands up already having discarded the condom in your trash. He’s reaching for his boxers from the ground to put on as some kind of shield. You were a bit disappointed, his size while soft was surprisingly just as impressive as it was when it was hard. “I came twice!”
He’s back then, a damp towel in his hand to clean around your sensitive thighs. “And you also scared the living shit out of me when you went limp after you came the second time.”
You roll your eyes, “Not my fault you fucked me dumb.”
He snorts, tossing the damp towel onto the ground as he lays back down beside you, pulling you close to his chest in what could be viewed to some as intimate, but to you two was normal behavior.
“Ew you’re gross and sweaty!”
He hums, “So are you.”
You groan, “Release me you freak.”
“Aftercare is highly recommended after any heavy sex session, just lie with me for a bit, okay?”
“I’d argue it could’ve been heavier,” You mumble, succumbing to his hold around you.
“Next time,” His voice is light, leaving you with a strange sense of peace. You couldn’t help but stare now. With his eyes shut you could observe him closer than ever before. The soft lips of his that had been on you multiple different times tonight, red and bruised from the makeout session you had earlier.
You squeeze an arm out of his hold, raising your fingers to trace over the small bite on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry I bit you.”
“Don’t be,” He sounded dazed, like he was seconds away from falling asleep. “If I had a problem then I would’ve stopped you.”
“Oh so you are a freak!” He hums, not denying it. “Oh my god you are, aren't you! No wonder those girls had zero plans on letting you go.”
He opens his eyes then, meeting you with a bored look. “I wouldn’t be talking if I were you, aren’t you the one who was seconds from coming just from me pinning you down?”
“What?” Your jaw drops. “That’s so untrue! This is defamation!”
He shuts his eyes again, seemingly ignoring your remarks yet keeping a smile on his face the entire time.
“I could sue you! I’d take that drumset from you in a second.”
“Then would you take my job too?” He replies mockingly.
“Hey I could! The guys really happen to like me, you know I think if I talked it out with them we could work something out.”
He hums, “Then I guess i’d have to learn how to make some drinks and fill in for you?”
“I think bartender Jeno would suit you well.”
“Jeno? But what happened to Neno?” You regret even speaking to him instead of just playing dead after sex the second he brings up the nickname.
You choose instead to turn your cheek to him with a pout. “You really love yourself some pillow talk.”
“I’m not the one who started it.”
“I wasn't pillow talking with you I was threatening you.” You retort. “You’re always so full of yourself you know not everyone is trying to bed you, right?”
He laughs, “Did I not just bed you?”
“Ah but that doesn’t count!”
You’re both laughing then, every single ounce of regret fading away. You were silly to ever think that things could change between you two, and this was proof enough that sex didn’t necessarily mean everything would be different between the two of you.
If you could flick off every movie and novel for overdoing the trope you would right now. Because as you laid next to Jeno you realized one thing, it would take more than just one hookup to erase the history you had both built together.
Part Two:
Dare
☆ 🎸☆
Jeno was in no way secretive, but he also wasn’t the type to tell just everyone every single activity he found himself doing daily. He was quite the opposite to Donghyuck in that way. Where the lead singer acted as if he would die if he wasn’t in the loop twenty four seven, Jeno kept most things lowkey.
But there was one issue with that.
“Late for the third practice in a row,” Donghyuck popped out of seemingly nowhere, trailing behind Jeno as he made his way over to the couch to set down his bag.
“Don’t know what you mean, Jisung isn’t here yet either.”
“Thats because the dude is probably getting his dick wet right now,” Jeno scowls at the idea, “You, have been getting zero action.”
“You don’t know what I do in my free time.”
“I know you’ve racked ten hours a day on valorant all last month,” Donghyuck hums, tilting his head like he had discovered groundbreaking information.
Jeno sighs. “You’ve been in my room.”
“I told you, your controller runs smoother than mine.”
“So then grab it and leave, why are you snooping?” Mark tunes in from where he’s standing, ironically enough, tuning his own guitar.
“Because JenJen has been out way more than he usually is, and I know he’s not at any bars or clubs because I've been at all of them.”
“Ever considered he was avoiding you?” Jaemin smirks.
“Well no, that's unlike him.”
“I’m still here, y'know." Jeno shakes his head, nodding over at Mark in a quick apology. “Sorry, time went by quicker than I’d thought.”
It was the truth after all. He had made it very clear to you that he ran a tight schedule today, one that miraculously worked out in your favor considering how easy it was for Jeno to give into your whiny pleas. Especially when they were all he could hear with your hands in his hair roughly tugging as he ate you out slowly. It didn’t take long for you to finish on his tongue, it did however end with a quickie that lasted a bit longer than it should’ve.
“Don’t worry about it. Five minutes means nothing when you compare it to,” Mark checks his watch, the sound of the door twisting open. The creaky door revealed Jisung, who looked too sweaty for someone who drove himself here. “Ten.”
“I’m sorry I’m late I was—“
“Nobody wants to hear about your sex life.”
“I do.”
Jaemin winks at Jisung, the other frowning. Jeno would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the fact that if he made a single wrong move all attention would be directed to him. He moves away from the group slowly, hoping they’re too busy drilling the youngest to notice him slipping by.
Unfortunately, that's not the case. “You alright man? I feel like the only times I ever see you is when we’re practicing.”
Jeno stops in his tracks, Mark standing before him with a slightly worried look on his face. Mark was a worrier. He didn’t like to make it very known, usually he played it off as just curiosity. But Mark always had the habit of playing with his fingers when he was concerned.
“I’m great, actually just been spending more time with friends.” Jeno hopes the excuse is enough to let him escape, though if Jaemin was the one he said that to he would’ve been caught instantly.
“Oh,” Mark seems relieved, “Y/N? You should bring her over some time, or better yet bring her over to our set next weekend.”
“Yeah man I’ll let her know but I’m pretty sure she’s going to be busy.”
He knew you’d be busy, you mentioned that the night before, about how busy your work schedule was going to be and so there wouldn’t be much time in between to hang out. You had apologized profusely, to which he’d told you there was seriously no reason to. If he could last months without sex, he could last one week while he was out of town.
“Y/N! We haven't seen her in a while!” Jaemin joins the conversation, “How has she been?”
Mark is quick to give a short answer to him, one that Jeno is thankful for as he steps towards his place, drumsticks in hand. The other guys were still talking to each other, the conversation shifting to how Mark doesn’t appreciate them being late constantly. Jisung arguing about how he’s in more trouble when Donghyuck has shown up late to practice more times than Jisung.
The guys were certainly not used to the rise of fame they’ve had, adjusting to a busier schedule and way more practice sessions than ever before. Jeno hadn’t even had time to check in with his family so much anymore because of how busy he was.
The reminder plagues his mind, making him reach for his phone to swipe through the family group chat that he hadn’t been catching up with for reasons that would only make him guilty. There wasn’t much to catch up on except for his cousin asking him for tickets to Oblivion’s show this weekend and another asking if he’s bringing Jaemin as his plus one to his sister’s wedding. That one he skipped past because Yeri had really been trying to make moves on Jaemin
Shit. He had forgotten about how soon that was. He slid out of the chat, noticing a more recent text from his mother.
Mom: I hope you aren’t forgetting about the wedding. I ordered your suit for you and we still need to get it tailored. Stop by soon, I’ve seen my own son on my phone more than in person.
He shoots back a simple reply. He would make sure to visit her soon. More than likely after the show, since his hometown was only half an hour away.
He hadn’t been home in a while, something he was regretting now that he realized it. He did love visiting his family, the problem was that as much as they supported him they, his mother mostly, couldn’t help but make subtle comments.
Like why wouldn’t he want his own place? She was willing to pay his rent so he didn’t have to share space with all of his roommates. Jeno declined on multiple occasions. As much as the guys were annoying, he didn’t mind their company.
Jeno grew up in a household different to the rest. His parents spent most of their time abroad, his father managing the family business and his mother spending most of her time performing in front of stadiums as a nation-known cellist. He did have his older sister, Seulgi, though she was busy with business school to eventually take on their family business.
He loved his family of course, and they loved him but being with the guys felt like he finally had brothers, annoying and kind of invasive, but brothers nonetheless.
“Okay enough screwing around, seriously.” Mark calls for the rest of them. The guys make their way to their positions, Jeno was about to set his phone down when he spots your message.
Princess: You busy tonight?
You had set your own nickname on his phone when you found out he had you as FN/LN, it stuck around since then. He smirks, typing in his reply.
Neno: Why?
You miss me already?
The chat bubble shows that you’re typing. He smiles to himself, awaiting your reply.
Princess: And other things…
I'm free at ten, you have a key.
He’s about to reply when Jaemin pops up from behind him, startling him into shutting his phone off. “Who are you texting?”
“Family.”
Jaemin scoffs, clearly not buying the excuse but choosing to ignore it. “Alright Vin Diesel.” He takes a few steps away, not before raising a brow like he was onto Jeno.
With what little time left before they start warming up Jeno sends a quick thumbs up, hoping that gets the message across clear enough. He can’t say he regrets any of the decisions made in the past few weeks, and if he could make an educated guess based off of how often you ran towards your laptop to write things down after sex, he was sure you felt the same.
He wouldn’t admit it to the guys, mostly because whatever he was up to wasn’t really their business, but also because he liked the sneaky vibe the two of you had going on. It wouldn’t last forever, that’s for sure. But could you blame him for not wanting his friends to ask question after question about you?
If anything he was doing you two a favor, the guys would probably jump you with questions about Jeno that they would never be able to squeeze out of him. There was also the fear that if any of the guys started to catch on then he’d have to explain himself. They had already had a habit of teasing him whenever he mentioned spending nights at your place, even before this arrangement began.
Especially Jaemin who was always the hopeless romantic, reading into things too much. He always bugged Jeno with questions about you, ones like how nice you complimented each other, and how cute the babies would be if you wanted any. It was a problem that Jeno easily solved by setting boundaries, sure, yet still left him wary of telling his friend.
Jeno decided that it would be best to keep this from them, at least for as long as he could. It wasn’t so bad though, because on one hand while you got to tell your own friends, he kept it to himself. A secret that he cherished on his own, one that he could smile freely without anyone poking into what deeper meaning could be there.
☆ 📚 ☆
The last thing you expected was for you to be drunk out of your mind on a random Wednesday at six in the afternoon. It came as no shock that the reason came down to one single factor. Yuqi. The girl was known for her spontaneous trips all around the globe, so when she texted you to meet with her since she happened to be in town, you couldn’t decline.
So you had reluctantly canceled the plans from earlier with Jeno, one too many sorry texts and gifs until he finally called you to say it was really okay. Practice had gone on a bit longer than it usually was with their show coming up soon. And before you could offer another apology for not being able to go out and travel with him to see the band, he was already stressing that you need to worry less.
So that’s what you were doing now, relaxing with three empty soju bottles on the table to account for that. Yuqi sitting in front of you, picking at the samgyeopsal that you had eaten way too much of since she’d offered to pay. You couldn’t help the smile on your face, call it a buzzed daze or whatever but you felt good.
“Shuhua tells me you’ve been focused on writing,” Yuqi starts, “Says you’re trying to push yourself to release by the end of the year.”
You hum, batting your lashes to snap out of whatever daydreaming you’d been doing. “I’ve been pouring all of my hard work into it.”
Yuqi giggles, “Yeah, she said you’re not bad at all, just lack sex appeal.”
You gasp, “I’ll have you know that’s not true!”
She laughs louder, instigating just as she always did. “I’m kidding! She did say you were a bit stuck with the smut scenes.”
“Wow and I thought there was a non disclosure for book transcripts.” You joke, shoving a piece of the pork into your mouth. The sweet glaze being the first thing you taste as you bite into the meat, savoring the flavor like it was gourmet. You guessed that came with the buzz.
“Hey she said that I should talk to you about it, that I might offer good advice.”
“Cause you’re a sex fiend?”
She clicks her tongue, “Because I am an editor for one of the most recognized Magazine Journalism organizations in the world!” A few customers who happen to be dining in raise their eyebrows, giving you a look of disdain and annoyance. Yuqi bows her head slightly in apology before coughing and adjusting her volume, “And because I am a sex fiend, yes.”
“No need.” You reply, picking another piece of meat from the stove on the table. Yuqi frowns. To be honest, if she would’ve come around earlier offering you her own hook up stories than you probably would’ve taken that and used it for inspiration, but now you had your own experiences to use. Not that you had told anyone about that as of yet, so of course Yuqi was looking at you like you just turned down a million dollar check.
What Yuqi was offering was like a goldmine to early writers, ones who, like you, struggled with writer's block because of lack of inspiration. The only thing is, there wasn’t much left uninspired to you. Not when for the past few weeks since the first time you and Jeno had sex. If anything, you’d become quite the fiend yourself, texting him almost every day about perhaps trying something new. For research purposes of course.
“No need?” Yuqi spoke up, "Don't tell me you’ve replaced me with someone else. I didn’t even get to tell you about my trip to Thailand!”
She forgot that she did tell you about that trip, right as it was happening. She called you straight from the bedroom of some girl named Minnie that she’d met at a soirée where she downed way too many glasses of champagne to remember how she ended up in a different hotel room.
“Not replace you, just got some first hand experience.” You smile, refusing to meet her eyes as a warm smile makes its way on your face. She gasps loudly, having realized what the implications meant, the scattered people around shaking their heads at her volume.
“You found another fuck buddy?” She lowers her voice, leaning in closer to analyze any answer your body could tell her. Blame it on the alcohol and the dry mouth you get after a few too many shots, but you gulp. Her eyes widened once more. “Oh my god you did! Why wouldn’t you say anything?”
“Must I need to share everything?”
“Y/N,” She deadpans. “That’s like your main characteristic. Chronic oversharer?”
You open your mouth to reply but she cuts you off. “Don’t argue against it, it’s true! The first conversation we had was about how your childhood cat died and inspired you to become a Bartender.”
Rest in Peace Martini.
You shake your head, setting down your glass. “Alright, fine. Yeah I do, but it’s not like you think it is!” Yuqi tilts her head. “I mean that! You know i’m not really one to have a Fuck buddy.”
“Yet you do anyway?”
She was right, and your stubbornness hated that. “Only because it’s not just some rando!” This time, everyone’s eyes landed on you disapprovingly. You winced, quietly apologizing for your volume.
“Which is exactly why you kept it a secret in the first place, and why you refuse to tell me without sounding ominous, and also explains the fact that you look so tense right now because i’m putting all of the pieces together and— oh my god.” Yuqi pauses, “You’re fucking Lee Jeno.”
You almost spat out your drink, “How did you even guess that?”
“I had a hunch,” Her eyes trail down to your exposed shoulder, the sleeve of your shirt tugged lower than it was supposed to be. “Also I've only seen bites like that from one man.”
You weren’t sure if you should be concerned or jealous that she was familiar with his bite marks, not because the two of them had ever messed around but mostly because up until this moment you didn’t know she knew of his bedroom habits. You settled on fear. Yuqi’s guesses were never wrong. It was as scary as it was impressive.
“Calm down tiger, I only know that because he used to hook up with my college roommate.”
For some strange reason that gives you a bit of relief. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” She stares at you for a bit, contemplating whether or not to argue with you, ultimately deciding not to.
“Fine, don’t say anything, just drink with me.”
You wouldn’t dare decline. Yuqi excuses herself, heading out to the bar to grab a few shots for a quick second. You’re left alone, scrolling through your phone and slowly thinking about Jeno. You think back to what Yuqi had mentioned earlier. Jeno’s fling with her roommate that you weren’t aware about. You can feel it again this time stronger, a pang in your chest that you refused to dwell over. Your attempts at ignoring fall flat because within the next second you slide into your recent chat with him, sending a text before your brain could decide otherwise.
Princess: What are you doing?
A few minutes pass with no reply until the notification comes in. It’s a picture of him in dim lighting, the only light coming in from what you assumed was his pc. He had headphones on, the mic barely covering his mouth. From the angle, you could see a bit of his clothing. A black tank top, that he apparently had multiple different versions of, his muscular arms on display. You bite your lip, saliva gathering in your mouth from how badly you needed that right now. The next message is short and simple.
Neno: On league w hyuck.
You feigned chalance, staring at the picture longer than you should’ve. Your eyes roam around the place, searching for your friend’s whereabouts before you could make a stupid decision. She’s nowhere, which meant one thing. Your finger is over the call button about to click when you hear someone come up, assuming it’s Yuqi you set your phone down.
“Hey, are you lonely?”
A stranger you hadn’t noticed until now stood in front of you, the man clearly intoxicated with the way his speech was slurred.
“Ah,” You look around for Yuqi, she’s nowhere in sight. “No not real—“
He doesn’t give any time for you to answer, sliding an empty chair way too close to you. From how close he is you can smell the alcohol off of him, even worse with the way he opens his mouth. “It’s not safe for your friend to just leave a pretty girl like you here.”
Your heartbeat rises, his words coming off way more threatening than friendly. You awkwardly laugh, hoping that you don’t at all look as scared as you feel right now.
“Seriously, you’re fucking beautiful.” His arm reaches forward, holding onto your arm. “You got a boyfriend?”
“I–“ You stutter. Fuck. This was not at all how you were supposed to sound like. You’d experienced enough cat calls to know that the best choice in this situation is to walk away. For some reason though you couldn’t help but freeze up.
“Then how about you come with me tonight? I could show you a fun time.”
“How about you fuck off instead.” Yuqi appears out of nowhere, a deep frown on her face, the drinks in her hand coming down to slam against the table.
The man scoffs, looking more annoyed than frightened. “I don’t think someone like you should be talking like that.”
“And I don’t think someone in their thirties should have a receding hairline, but clearly I was wrong.”
He sneers, standing up from where he’s seated shortening the distance in between them. “Are you crazy?”
“Are you?” She starts, walking closer to him. In most scenarios you’d find your friend’s confrontational attitude inspiring, but right now all you could think about is just how drunk this man is, and just how many things could go wrong.
“Watch your fucking tone,” He stares down at Yuqi. “Bitch.”
You stand up then, trying to deescalate the situation without any hospital trips tonight. Yuqi opens her mouth about to start arguing back, the other people around doing nothing but sitting down in their seats. “Hey, there’s no need for any of this. I have a boyfriend, so if you don’t mind leaving—”
“What and I’m supposed to believe you?” He turns his attention to you. A group of men get up from their seats, quickly grabbing onto the man who you assume is their friend. They refuse to meet your eyes, instead trying to calm the guy down and take him back to where they were seated.
“No fuck no I’m not leaving!” The man shoves his friend off of him. “These two bitches think they’re better than me or something.”
You hope he’s too drunk to notice the way you roll your eyes without thinking. As a bartender you’d seen many aggressive drunks, you knew better not to react spontaneously since they’d only take it as a challenge. You tried to keep your composure, instead turning your attention to Yuqi who had at some point during the dispute, grabbed onto her phone.
You meet eyes with her, mouthing let’s go to her. She nods regretfully, holding back all of her anger on the tip of her tongue. You're about to step around him when he focuses on you. He grabs onto your wrist, “The fuck do you think you’re going?”
You pull your arm away, his grip not tight enough to scare you off. Okay, now you were seriously getting pissed off. “Dont fucking touch me.”
He lets out a deep chuckle, “Why? You seemed like that's all you wanted earlier.”
Call it liquid courage but you felt a sudden surge of anger. All you wanted was good food, fun with a friend, and maybe a booty call at the end of the night not whatever bullshit this guy was on. You were off the clock for fuck’s sake.
You're not even sure when it happens, just the direct aftermath. The man’s on the floor, blood dripping from his nose as you hold onto your hand. Your knuckles red from the contact to his face, more than likely going to leave a bruise. Yuqi’s eyes are wide, and you can tell she’s trying with all of her power to hold back laughing.
The sorry guy is still on the floor, holding his nose and freaking out about the blood as his friends try to stop the bleeding and calm him down. You take that as a sign to leave, smiling and nodding at the crowd who are staring jaws slacked. Yuqi throws a quick few bills on the table before grabbing onto your non injured hand and dragging you outside of the restaurant.
There she finally lets her expression change, her laughs filling the silent outside air. “Oh my fuck—“ She tries to catch her breath. “What the fuck when did you learn to punch like that?”
“I’m a girl who works as a bartender, it’s a safety measure.” You shrug, prompting her to laugh more. You fall into a fit of your own, her contagious cackling promoting you to join. The roads are hardly busy at all, a comforting fact to you when the two of you probably looked insane right now.
She finally steadies her breaths, at the same time a car approaches the side of the road. One that you recognized as Jeno’s. He parks it, stepping outside of the vehicle and directly to the two of you. You suck in a breath, his hands coming to your face as he looks into your eyes with worry.
“What happened? Are you okay?” You open your mouth to respond when he cuts you off. His hand grabbing onto your tender one, the colors barely visible from where the bruises were forming. “Youre hurt.”
“You should’ve seen the other guy!” Yuqi jokes.
Jeno’s eyes darkened. “Where the fuck is he.”
“Neno it’s fine he was just some drunk,” You smile tightly, hoping it’s enough to keep him from doing anything stupid. It’s not.
“It’s not fine. I could hear him through the phone and drunk or not he shouldn’t be talking to anyone like that.”
You couldn’t lie, the way Jeno was acting right now was kind of sexy but this was not what you wanted right now. The situation had been dealt with. You were pretty sure with a punch of that strength you’d at least broken his nose.
“Jeno,” You slide your fingers into his hand, the act more intimate than you realized. He seems caught off guard, closing his own fingers around yours lightly so as to not hurt you more. “I promise, I’m okay.” He sighs, his jaw clenched with everything he’s holding back right now.
“Well,” Yuqi starts. “There’s an obvious connection going on right now.”
You both turn to face the brunette, her smile teasing with a flicker of amusement in her eye. You guessed this was probably the most fun she's had in a while. You expect him to pull away, closing your eyes to brace yourself from the embarrassment. The moment never happens, his hand refusing to let go of you even as he turns to face your friend.
Jeno huffs out a short chuckle, “Hi Yuqi.”
“Hey Jeno! It’s been quite the while.” She looks behind the two of you to a car that pulls onto the side of the road behind Jeno’s. “I wish we could chat longer but unfortunately I do have a flight to catch so..”
“You said you’re staying for a week?”
“Ah,” Yuqi gulps, caught in the lie. “Right well I should start packing early. It was nice seeing you two though, goodbye!”
She's gone the next second, sneaking around the two of you to get into the car. You smile amused by her antics. Jeno doesn’t let go, instead leading you with him towards the car. You follow behind, nothing but the sound of the engine from Yuqi’s mysterious ride fading into the night. He opens the door for you, letting you in and shutting it as he makes his way over to the drivers side.
The ride is full of silence, the traffic lights illuminating Jeno’s face to help you decipher his current mood. He’s unreadable to most, especially when he’s upset. But not to you. Never to you. You knew him like the back of your hand.
You try and come up with something to say when your phone lights up.
Yuqi: Oh he’s down baddddd. He called me to go check on you didnt even say hi just said go check on y/n then said he was on his way and hung up.
I thought it might be best if you wanted to see him so I got a ride lol :P
Text me when you get home tho!
Unless you’re too busy getting busy iykwim ;))))
You shoot out a quick reply, closing the app to open your recent calls. Jeno was at the top of the recents page. You must’ve called him accidentally when that man snuck up to you, no wonder he mentioned hearing the conversation.
That made things much more awkward for you. For one, you had been the one to cancel plans on him. Then after a few drinks you called him, ruining his game because you couldn’t simply get the stranger to fuck off. That must’ve been why he was silent. He was mad at you. The furrow in his brows gave away that much.
“I’m sorry,” you start, “for ruining your night.”
He keeps his eyes on the road, his eyes only barely meeting yours as he continues to drive. “Is that what you think?”
“Isn’t it? I didn’t even mean to call you. I was going to handle it myself.”
He takes a deep breath, “Stop, that's not it.”
“Then what is it? Are you mad you didn’t get to hit him first? Is this like a weird Alpha Male dominance thing?” He chuckles and for some reason that makes you more frustrated. “I’m serious, Jeno. Why are you mad?”
“I’m not mad,” he pauses, “Well not in the way you think.”
You lour, “What kind of response is that? Is this some kind of puzzle to solve? Oh great mysterious Jeno, please allow me to discover the truths of why you're angry!”
“I’m not mad,” He stops at a red light, head turning to look at you directly, your own eyes meeting him with slight annoyance. “I-“ He starts again, turning back to the road. “I’m upset. I wish I was there with you and that you wouldn’t have to deal with those poor excuses for men. And it's not that I don’t think you can handle things on your own, it's just that I wish you wouldn’t have to. Call it my ego but I want to be there to prevent shit like that.”
You blush, remorseful for your tone seconds prior. You were jumping to conclusions quite a bit. No, a lot a bit. Jeno wasn’t the type to want to admit how he felt, so you knew it did take him more courage than the average person to open up.
If his pride was hurt doing so then you thought the best option would be to hurt your own back. “If it helps, I was upset at you earlier too.” You can see his brow raise slightly. “I texted you mostly cause Yuqi mentioned you used to hook up with her roommate. If it’s like an ego thing, I guess technically I’m the same.”
“Miyeon?”
You wince at the name. “Sure.”
You weren’t aware of when the two of you made it to your apartment, just that suddenly you were in the familiar dark garage, cars parked all around the grey space. He turned the key, his car turning off as the two of you stayed quiet.
“Miyeon was just a fling, I didn’t tell you because it was over as quickly as it began.”
You refuse to move a muscle. You couldn’t explain why the thought still bugged you but it did. “Okay.” You say, and you're reaching for your seat belt when his hand stops you.
“I’m serious, there’s nothing you need to worry about.”
You knew that was true. The two had probably gone about their life without acknowledging each other. Jeno probably even lost track of her within the list of girls he’d already been with. For some reason the thought bugs you.
You shake it off, “I know, Neno. It’s okay, it was just a lapse in judgment.”
He nods, refusing to look away from you. You're not sure when he removed his own seat belt but he did, because suddenly his hands moved to remove your own. Your heart was pounding, his breath featherlight against you, raising the hairs on your arms.
He pulls away slightly, looking into your eyes for any words you left unspoken, all of which he’d taken right from your mouth. Speaking of, you couldn’t help but look at his lips, the overwhelming urge to pull him closer taking over your entire being. He must get the memo, because with his next move he’s cupping your face and kissing you.
The kiss is not at all like the ones you’d had before. Where those before were pure adrenaline, his lips met yours with an apology. Slow and gentle. His tongue grazed your bottom lip like he couldn’t get enough of you. And when you were about to deepen the kiss, he pulled away.
“Goodnight, Princess.”
You felt like you’d been slapped in the face. Was he insane? You snapped out of whatever daze you’d been in, facing him. He was already turning the car back on.
Wow so he really is insane.
You scoff, about to get up and out of this car and block him on every app to ever exist when you stop yourself. You bring your legs up onto the seat, hooking your hand under his seat to slide it further away from the wheel.
“What are you doing?”
You ignore him, and once there’s enough space between you move over, hopping onto his lap. His hands hold your waist on instinct. “It’s bad manners to leave a girl hanging after kissing her like that.”
He smiles mockingly, “Like what?”
You bring your hand up, mimicking the way he held onto you. “Like it hurt you to pull away.”
“Maybe it did,” He whispers, one more word and his lips would be touching yours. You aren’t sure who made the move, just that all of a sudden you were both on each other once again, this time with a sense of urgency.
His hand slid into your shirt, fingers trailing up your spine to push you closer to him. The action only fueled your hunger more, you kissed him harder. It was possessive, like you wanted to leave a mark on him, one that told him that for now he was yours. You rolled your hips once, the two of you sucking in a breath in sync at the feeling.
He pulled away, his chest heaving. “We shouldn’t be doing this here.” You knew him well enough now to know he was trying desperately to come up with an excuse. Why he was, you weren’t sure.
“Why not?” You ask, taking a moment to give him time to think. He didn’t answer. Feigning innocence you grinded your hips down once again. His jaw clenched, a tell sign that he was holding back, redness creeping up his face. “Nobody’s around.”
“I don’t have condoms in here.”
You shrug, condoms were the last of your worries right now. “I don’t mind it as long as you don’t.”
His gaze darkens, a smile creeping onto his face. “Is that what you want?”
More like what you needed. If he didn’t dick you down right at this moment you would probably just end up getting yourself off then going to bed frustrated. There really was no comparing your own smaller fingers to his thick ones, and even your pussy was starting to tell the difference.
You nod and that’s enough for him to curse a fuck it and bring his mouth to yours. This time it was all teeth and tongue. Nothing but pure fervency to consume every part of each other. You let out a gasp as he slips his fingers under your skirt, dragging them against the damp fabric.
“You’re so wet baby,” He pulls away, whispering against your sensitive neck. “Is this all for me?” You nod, wishing for nothing more but him to fill you up already. He clicks his tongue, “Come on Princess we’ve talked about this before, use your words.”
“Yes, since you sent that picture of you.” You ramble. You think it would probably be best if you were shot dead at the moment. What was that one animal that gets so embarrassed that it just dies on the spot called?
He chuckles, finding your confession flattering. “Then I shouldn’t tease you any longer.” He says before sliding your panties to the side and shoving two long fingers in you at once. The squeeze is tight, but in all of the right ways. You whine, grinding down on them to feel them hit deeper.
“Fuck,” He says, fixated on the way you squeeze around his digits. “Use my fingers to get yourself off.” You waste no time listening, riding them slowly as he watches. You’re biting onto your lip, holding back sounds as much as possible because technically you both were still in a public area, as silent as it was.
He kisses you, swallowing every single one of your sounds. Your brain feels like it’s working overtime, hyperaware of every action. You feel him slide another finger in, curling them against you barely grazing your g-spot. You bite down against his lip, offering a poor apology as he hisses, your orgasm approaching rapidly.
Jeno doesn’t reply, instead he uses his mouth to trail against your neck making sure to leave bruises around the sensitive skin. You’ve given up on holding back any sounds, your moans building up just as your climax is, and right as you’re about to finish Jeno bites down on your skin. You cry out loud, the pain and pleasure meshing into one, a tear sliding down your cheek.
He pulls his fingers out, a whine falling from your mouth from the loss. “Color?” He asks, his pupils dilated as you look at him.
“Green.”
“Good, I knew you could take it.” He slides the waistband of his sweatpants down, pumping his cock twice.
“You didn't wear anything under?”
He shakes his head, “Had to hold myself back from fucking you the second you started grinding against me.”
You laugh, “You should’ve just done it.”
“Stay quiet and I will.”
“Okay,” You take the challenge, sliding your panties down your thighs and hovering over his dick. You don't give him any time, sinking down on him in one full go. You bite down on your lip to keep yourself from groaning. He’s breathing heavily holding back his own sounds. “That goes for you too.”
His arms come up to guide you, helping lift until it’s only the tip before sinking down again. Nothing but heavy gasps of air and low curses slipping from you both. There was nothing like a fun challenge, trying your hardest to hold back your moans while simultaneously trying to get the other to slip up.
As he continues to pound into you, you try your hardest to keep your eyes open, the slight sting of the mascara in your eyes from your earlier tears. You made a note to buy yourself a sex proof one soon. Jeno’s trying his hardest to stay composed, but you can tell how good he feels with the way his fingers dig into your skin.
“Fuck.” He gives in, lifting you fully on his own and setting a harsher pace. You can feel him hit directly against you. You gasp, using your hand to cover your mouth and try to keep silent. It’s no use, from the angle you feel him even deeper, moans coming out of you as the pressure in your stomach signals your release.
“Neno– mmh. fuck—“
You shout, louder than you meant to, your legs aching with how much they were being put to use. You swear you notice a twinge of mischief in his eyes. The next second he’s bringing the same hand that was just inside you to your mouth. “Open.”
You do, still managing to taste yourself as he swirls his fingers around your tongue. He pulls them away, a string of saliva breaking away as he uses his thumb to tilt your head down. He traces your bottom lip, slightly bringing you closer. Then when you think he’s going to kiss you senseless again, he spits into your mouth.
“I told you princess, keep it down.” He whispers, thrusting into you with no remorse. You can feel yourself about to come undone.
“Neno I’m gonna—“
“I know baby, me too.” You can hear it in his rough voice. “Cum with me.”
With one last thrust you’re orgasm hits you, fast and heavy. He curses, filling you up with his seed. You whine, it’s the first you’d ever let a man finish inside you and damn had you been missing out. Any attempt of speaking is cut short, you’re brain is too fucked out to process anything. Instead you fall forward, curling into his neck that’s damp with sweat that is a little gross but mostly comforting.
“You smell familiar.”
He laughs, his hand scratching your scalp, you hum. “It’s your shampoo.”
“I fucking knew it.” You pout, not daring to move from his hold. The two of you stay that way. Curled up against one another in complete silence. You’re fighting your sleep, you had been the second he started scratching you. His low breathing isn’t helping either.
“We can’t stay like this forever,” His whispers, yet makes no choice to move. And even though you knew what he meant, your mind couldn’t help but picture different scenarios.
Was that what he would tell his other hookups?
Did he warn them before they became too attached?
You shove the idea down, refusing to think it over. He was oblivious to your sudden concerns with your face hidden away from him. You suck in a breath, the light lavender scent of your shampoo hitting your nose with an underlying musk from Jeno himself. You should say something. It wasn’t abnormal to be curious about his past arrangements. You open your mouth, closing it just as quickly.
“I know.” You say instead and you swear you can hear his heart pound a bit faster when you do, but just as you shoved down your own thoughts earlier, you do the same now.
☆ 🎸☆
For a long time there was nothing Jeno loved more than performing on stage.
He was destined to make music. He knew it from a young age. Cemented by his aunt who had gifted him a drum set as a kid. His mom had only further encouraged him, he was the one to take on her love for music, even if it was through a different instrument or way of expressing.
During every stage his heart was pounding with adrenaline, never becoming exhausted and instead waiting for his next cue. It fueled him, every slam of his drumsticks, the vibration felt throughout his entire body, and of course as he grew older he only became more confident in his abilities. He felt it every time he was on stage, a smile growing on his face as each song came.
The growing fan base wasn’t something he ever prioritized. He didn’t make music to become famous and make money, hell he was the son of some of the most known and respected people in their fields. You would make jokes about his nepotism, and maybe if the guys had any clue who he was before he joined then that would’ve been the case, but none of it mattered anyway.
Now suddenly, he wanted to show them the best of him. That meant being himself at his core, and what better way was there to show that side of him than drumming?
Oblivion were finishing up their last song, the sound of the fans screaming crescendoed as Donghyuck’s low nasally voice rang out the final verse. Jeno’s heart was going one hundred miles a minute, pure ecstasy flowing through his body. Then within a half second, he blinked and suddenly his smile had nothing to do with the crowd and the energy they had been radiating all night that directly translated into his performance. No, this time he pictured you, in all of your glory.
The song came to an end. The crowd made sure to be the loudest they were the whole night, one particular high pitched squeal pulling him from his own thoughts. He rolled his eyes at Jaemin who was winking at a fan that resulted in another scream. He dragged him off of the stage, following the rest of the group as they walked back to their shared waiting room.
“Great show out there,” Darling cheered, specifically running into Jisung’s arms to give him a quick peck. The action made Jeno slightly envious in a way he’d never felt before by the couple’s frequent pda. “I swear there were way more people in attendance than any other show!”
“Thanks Darling,” Jaemin smiles. “You might just be our good luck charm.”
Jisung visibly deflates at the usage of his nickname for his girlfriend, pulling at her waist to keep her close like Jaemin would snatch her at any second. Jaemin was only messing around, he’d confessed to Jeno a few months ago that he loved how Jisung’s face scrunched up when he was annoyed, so he made it a mission to piss him off as much as possible.
“Yeah Jisung is more focused than ever,” Donghyuck smirks, “unless we count the time he was busy getting his dick sucked before we had to go up on stage.”
“That’s not what happened!” The couple shout in unison, matching shades of red in their face. Jeno was sure the group would never let them live that down.
Mark laughs. “Well we should be staying here for one night only, remember not to end up so drunk that you sleep through hotel maintenance pounding on your door so hard they assume you died.”
“It happened one time.” Donghyuck groans.
“And it won’t happen again, you and Jaemin are sharing a room tonight.”
“What? Hello, way to be a cockblock, Mark. I was planning on going out tonight.” The implication that he was bringing someone back to the hotel was clear.
“Not my problem,” Mark sighs out before turning to Jeno. “You’re staying a few days longer, right?”
“Yeah, I'm gonna spend the weekend with my parents.”
“Nice, have fun.”
“Then what about you, Mark? You just got a room to yourself?” Donghyuck pouts.
“Yep,” Mark answers honestly, "gives me time away from you guys.”
Darling laughs, "Don't worry, the nahyuck fans will love it.”
“What the fuck is that?”
“Aww,” Jaemin coos, his arm wrapping around Donghyuck’s shoulder, “We have our own ship name!”
Donghyuck looks like the revelation is causing him physical distress. Jeno takes that as a cue to leave before the two start fighting because once they started it was hard to stop them.
“Youre not going out with us at least?” Jisung asks, his fingers intertwined with his girlfriend's, a soft smile on his face that Jeno never saw from him until the two of them reconnected. He was happy for his friend, he always did wish the best for them all, and for people like Jisung and even Jaemin, he knew as much as they contradicted it with their past or current actions. They wanted love most of all. So seeing Jisung as he was now, so open and honest with his feelings was relieving for the most part. Though on one hand it did open a can of worms he was actively avoiding paying any mind to.
He could tell the guys were growing a bit curious. He wasn’t spending much time at the apartment, opting to spend the night at yours instead. A privilege you weren’t aware of that none of his past hookups ever got. Once again, a can of worms he really didn’t want to open.
“Nah not tonight.”
Jisung raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask anything. With that, Jeno’s saying a quick goodbye, making his way out of the door as Donghyuck and Jaemin start one of their petty arguments.
Jeno had to give his parents credit, as much as his parents were busy, they always made sure to provide their children with only the best of the best. That included hiring Miss Kim, their personal chef, to make the best meals for their children.
He sat at the kitchen table, plates of breakfast being served as his Mom read the morning newspaper, his father sitting next to her and feeding her some of the washed grapes that Miss Kim had brought earlier. Jeno felt a twinge in his chest at the sight, covering it up with a quick cough as if anyone around would notice it.
“Is Seulgi here yet?”
His mom sets the paper down, “She’s late, overslept after a late engagement party her friend, what's her name?”
“Joy.” His father answers, feeding her another grape.
“Right. I think She's set to be one of her bridesmaids.”
Jeno nods. Miss Kim is setting his plate down in front of him, he mouths a thank you receiving a quick smile and bow before Miss Kim heads back to the kitchen.
“Speaking of which,” Mrs Lee sits up, eyeing Jeno with a mischievous expression as he digs his spoon into the side bowl of rice. “You aren’t coming alone, right?”
Jeno smiles smug, “Are you implying I bring back Jaemin?”
Jeno had invited Jaemin to a family gathering of his about two years ago. His mother was not immune to his charms, taking a liking to his carefree and confident way of speaking. She was adamant on setting him up with Seulgi until she had came out. And even though both parents were very supportive, Jeno had a feeling that his mother hadn’t yet given up on her dream of having Jaemin as a son in law. Though her target had shifted to Jeno.
“No actually, though im not opposed to inviting him. I’ve already told your cousin all about him.” That explained the consistent texts from her. “I just think it would be nice if you brought someone back home with you. Show her around a bit. How about that friend of yours you mentioned? Y/N is it?”
He almost spat out his food, choking it down instead to which his father passed him his handkerchief. He grabbed onto it, coughing until they finally died down.
“I’m not too sure ive mentioned her before,” He finally answers.
“Oh if not you then, perhaps Seulgi?”
Jeno has to hold back from groaning. There was a time where he and his sister went out for drinks, she had introduced herself to you and the night ended with you and her exchanging numbers. Clearly he wasnt aware that you both had stayed in contact since then, he’d definitely be asking you about that soon. “Yes, perhaps.”
“She told us about her, mentioned shes a very sweet girl.” His mom’s smile widens. “I’d like to meet her.”
He hums, praying for any possible distraction to appear. The sounds of rushed footsteps approaching from none other than Seulgi herself. “Sorry I’m late!” She says, taking a seat next to Jeno. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing.” Jeno says at the same time his mother says, “Did you invite Jeno’s friend to your wedding?”
Seulgi pauses for a moment, “Jaemin?”
“Y/N.”
“Ah,” Seulgi smiles a thank you at Miss Kim who brought her a serving, “I assumed he was going to bring her on his own.”
“Never just assume with a man,” Mrs Lee sighs. “Jeno, I hope you can consider it.”
It’s not that Jeno refused to consider inviting you. It’s just that, his mom could be kind of stubborn. If you were to come by and she grew to like you then she’d automatically assume that you and him were meant to be together. And Jeno had a feeling she would like you, there was nobody in the world who wouldn’t.
The last thing Jeno wanted was to make you uncomfortable by introducing you to his family, meeting Seulgi was enough, and you end up running away scared. On the other hand, you were someone important to him, so what was the difference of introducing you to his family when he’s introduced Jaemin before.
“I’ll talk to her about it,” Jeno says finally. His mom, grinning happily, is about to reply when he continues. “But I'm not going to force her. If she doesn’t want to, then she doesn’t have to.”
“Well of course not,” Seulgi punches his shoulder lightly, “We’re not expecting you to kidnap her. Although considering the book drafts she’s shown me, I don’t think she’d mind it.” She jokes. Jeno’s eyes widen, and a part of him is scared that his parents might have heard, but when he turns to see them both in their own world he knows they didn’t.
Then again, there’s that familiar sting of envy. Only this time he can’t blame it on the overdone PDA from Jisung and Darling, now it’s from his own parents. His parents wore their hearts on their sleeve constantly, and never hid their love from anyone. He’d grown used to it years ago, so what changed now?
Something must be severely wrong with me.
☆ 📚 ☆
Things are the worst they could ever be. Okay that was dramatic but it was what you felt like in the moment. For starters you had a suspicious feeling you were growing sick, you sneezed way more than the average amount of times a person sneezes today. Then second of all, you were drawing blanks both literally and physically.
You had been sitting in front of your laptop for what felt like hours, and absolutely nothing would pop up. There was also another issue, one you didn’t want to speak aloud to anyone other than the incognito mode on your safari search. You felt pent up. Something that you didn’t even know could happen with two days of abstinence, but unfortunately it could.
It was like you were going crazy, you’d lasted years without sex so why did two days suddenly feel like eternity. Your head missed Jeno a lot, but your body did so much more. Especially late at night, like right now that you were in the darkness of your room with only the bedside lamp to illuminate the space around you. You tried to get off, maybe that could help with your writer's block in some weird kinky way. It was no use.
Not even scrolling Twitter videos could save you. You tried to sleep it off, perhaps a break would help. But the longer you laid down in complete darkness the more insatiable you became.
And then there was the bright idea. Jeno was a night owl, perhaps he was awake right now? You blushed in the dark room, there was no way you were even considering sexting him while he was spending quality family time. No you couldn’t stoop so low.
You flopped onto your right side, squeezing your eyes shut to clear your mind. Only instead your mind began playing tricks on you, images of Jeno’s body flashing through your mind like they were stored in a hard drive from your brain. You visualized the curve of his muscles, the definition and ridges of his back muscles that you hooked your nails into when he drilled into you so—
Oh gosh. You were seriously thinking about Jeno like that right now. This couldn’t be right, right? Your body seemed to think differently, with the way you felt your panties begin to dampen from your arousal.
You took a deep breath, snatching your phone from the charging cable on your desk and opening your message tab with Jeno.
Princess: Are you awake?
His typing pops up faster than you’d expected. You were hoping that he wouldn’t reply, then you could call it a night and pretend this never happened.
Neno: Yeah. Can’t sleep?
Princess: Not really…
You’re about to chicken out, your finger hovers over the do not disturb button when your familiar ringtone, one of Oblivion's earliest songs, blasts out of your phone. You jump, sliding the answer button.
“Hello?” Your voice comes out way more weak than you intended, and mentally you’re beating yourself up about it.
“Hey,” His voice hits you like a truck. The deep timbre sliding down your spine in a way that makes your body react on its own, goosebumps raising on your skin. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing I–“ Just miss you. It’s funny how now the tables have turned. “Can’t sleep.”
He hums, and you can hear him shifting on the other side, perhaps trying to get comfortable. “Do you want to talk?”
You wanted more than talking but maybe that was being too greedy. “Yeah, tell me about how the show went.”
He pauses for a second, “Went great, fans seemed to enjoy it a lot. Spent the rest of the day with my family.”
“Oh,” You forgot that he mentioned a breakfast date with his family. Your family was far too busy for those kinds of gatherings so it was a bit surprising but sweet. “How was that?”
“Not bad, it was nice seeing them with how long it’s been.”
“Can you tell me more?”
He chuckles, “Like what?”
“Anything. What about that game you play, how's that going?”
There’s another pause, and for a moment you feel like you’ve been caught. “Princess.”
The nickname goes straight to your core, your thighs pushing together on instinct. “Yeah?” You reply, voice weaker than you meant it to come out.
“Why are you awake right now?”
“I- I told you. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Right,” He pauses again, and you missed the way his voice deepened. “How can I help you with that baby?”
You suck in a breath, a curse slipping from your lips. You swear you can hear him smile through the phone. “Come on, tell me what you need.”
“I need you.”
You can hear him move around again, your chest tightening with how honest you were. You meant it in more ways than one, but there was no time to dwell on it now.
“Why don’t you let me hear how true that is?”
“Like right now?” You squeak out, suddenly embarrassed.
He chuckles, “Or is that not why you called me?”
“I don’t know what you mean—“ “Princess. Never in a million years have you asked me about my games.”
“What if I wanted to change that?”
“You’re stalling.” He states, “If you’re shy you don’t have to be, your voice alone made me crazy the second you picked up.”
His honesty scares you a bit, but it also gives you room to relax. “Do I have that effect on you?”
“More than one.” You take a shallow breath, and he definitely notices it. “Are you gonna be a good girl and spread your legs for me?”
There’d be no way for him to know if you were really following his instructions, but with how needy you were you made sure to do it anyway. Sliding your fingers past your bellybutton and tracing the light fabric.
“Tell me, just how wet are you for me?”
“Fuck–“ You clench around nothing. “Since earlier. I couldn’t sleep without thinking of you.”
“Is that why you texted? Were you just waiting for me to call you to use my voice and get yourself off?”
“N-no I didn’t know you’d call.”
He hums mockingly, “Really? Then what were you going to do? Give up and wait for me to get back home to fuck you? His words were harsh. For some reason it was working for you, a wave of want rushing through your veins. “Or maybe, you were going to go out and find someone else to do the job?
“No Neno I wouldn’t,” You plead, “I only want you.”
“Fuck,” He whispers Beasley audible through how fast your heart was beating. “Then use my voice, and I’ll make sure to fuck you good tomorrow as an apology.”
You take that as a promise, your hand slipping down into your panties, fingers gliding across the folds of your wet cunt. You gasp, “Fuck Neno I’m so wet.”
“Yeah baby?” He grunts, and the familiar sound only drives you crazier. “Go ahead, slide a finger in.”
You do as he commands, your pussy squeezing around the digit. Only there’s no relief, you were used to Jeno’s long thick fingers, yours were nothing in comparison. “It's not enough.” You cry, desperately wishing he was there.
“Shh,” he coos you. “It’s okay baby, come on just imagine it’s me.”
You slid another finger in, it wasn't long enough, but it would have to do for now. You rocked your hips, slowly fucking yourself with your fingers, your panties pushed to the side as the wet squelches filled the room.
“Fuck I can picture how tight you are,” he groans through the phone and youre barely registering now just how quiet he’s trying to make his own voice. “Youre taking my fingers so well huh?”
“Fuck Neno please.” You whine, scissoring yourself to fit another finger in.
For a moment all that can be heard is the heavy breathing through the phone. The two of you are trying to keep as quiet as possible. You register it then, the wet slide of him on the other side. You’re not sure how you missed it. He was jacking himself off as you got off to his voice.
“Neno.” You call out his name.
“Yes, princess?” He stutters through the line.
“I’m ready for you now.”
He laughs at being caught. “Yeah? You gonna be able to take it?”
You nod like he could see you, “just please fuck me already.”
“Alright then,” he plays along. “Spread your legs for me more baby.”
Your eyes are shut, visualizing him over you, his hand gripping your leg harsh to keep them from shutting. You slide a third finger into your cunt, it wasn't close to his girth but it would have to do at the moment. You clenched around them, imagining your fingers were his cock instead, filling you up so good. “Neno–ngh fuck youre so big.”
“You can fit me baby, you know why?” His voice is low. “cause that pretty pussy of yours was made for me.”
You moan, setting a strict pace to match his own through the phone. The light sounds of his breathing getting heavier with every thrust of his hand. You could imagine him now, he’d probably be biting his lips to hold back his noises, trying to keep quiet from his family who were only a few rooms over. Your stomach tightens, your release approaching quicker than it would when it was just you to get yourself off.
“I’m close.”
“Me too,” He replies. “You gonna let me cum inside you again? Fill up your needy cunt?”
“Fuck yes Neno—” You scream out, your orgasm washing over you in the next second. Your fingers are cramping up, continuously thrusting inside you to help milk out your orgasm.
He grunts a bit louder, calling out your name from what you can assume is from him reaching his own climax. You keep your phone close to you, your breaths evening out. Your legs felt like jelly, the energy you’d had before dissipating. The tiredness from the time being four in the morning finally hitting you.
“Baby?” Jeno called out. You hummed low, using what was left of your energy to do so. He chuckles through the line, having realized that you were seconds away from knocking out. “I’ll see you tomorrow, princess.”
You don’t even remember if you answered or not, only that the call ended. Your breaths fall into an even rhythm as you drift off to sleep.
Part three:
Do I wanna know?
☆ 🎸☆
Call Jeno what he was. A simp, a manwhore, a little bitch. That one was specifically from an angry Donghyuck whom he had declined going out with for the fifth time in a row to see you today. He’d gotten back from his parents house, and assuming how early he woke up to drive back into town he wasn’t surprised you were still sleeping. You had a habit of a minimum of twelve hours a night and he’d taken up most of those last night at four in the morning.
He blushed slightly at the memory. You hadn’t answered, which would’ve worried anyone in his situation if he didn’t know you well enough to know that you were probably busy writing like your life depended on it after gaining a surge of inspiration.
He gripped onto the plastic bag in hand. He stopped by the convenience store for some of your favorite ramen. Nothing else, truthfully, the pack of condoms had somehow made their own way into his bag. “Y/N!” He opened your front door, being sure to lock it behind him.
The apartment was unusually silent, safe for the meows coming from Meowy who greeted Jeno by rubbing against his feet. He cooed at the cat before making his way over to your kitchen to set the bag on the counter. “I brought you some noodles! Oh and they had a discount on the condoms so I thought why not!”
You didn’t answer. He frowned, looking out at the front door he’d just come from to spot your shoes in their place. You were home, so were you just sleeping in?
He walked over to your bedroom, knocking a few times. A low groan sounding through the door followed by a “Come in.”
He opened the door, the darkness of the room enveloping you as you laid in bed, Your body curled in itself like you’d exhausted all energy for the rest of the year. He frowned, approaching you with soft footsteps. Your eyes met his with a squint.
“Princess?” He called your name, to which he immediately regretted the second your lips started wobbling.
“Neno I’m sorry,” your eyes began to water.
He panics, sitting on the corner of the bed to get closer to you. “Hey, what's wrong?” He feels a slight panic from seeing you like this, it’s not the first time he’d seen you cry but it wasn’t a sight he’d see often.
“I didn’t want to text anyone and I know I said I wanted you bit then I woke up and it was like a crime scene everywhere and I spent the whole morning washing the sheets but then my washer broke so I hand cleaned it all and these cramps are seriously going to kill me—“
“Hey it’s okay,” Jeno cuts you off, his thumb wiping the tear threatening to fall from your eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing,” You reply bashfully, “Ugh I’m so annoying I always get so sad on my period. It’s gross.”
“It’s not gross.” He replies in an instant.
“Youre right it’s just human nature or whatever,” you sigh, wiping at your own eyes and sitting up. He reaches forward, his warm hand wrapping around your waist to stop you. “Hey it’s okay, I can go. Just get some rest.”
You pouted, “But I don’t want you to go.”
He smiled, “Okay, I won’t.”
Jeno wasn't sure how much time had passed like this. Just that as soon as you could you had cuddled into him. Something about his natural body warmth being the perfect temperature to help your cramps, so he held onto you, your breaths eventually evening out into sleep.
He didn’t even bother to grab his phone, instead just staring at you like some creep. He was grateful no one else was there to call him out on it though. After a few minutes, you shifted. Your head peaked up from where it laid flat on his chest.
“Sorry did I trap you?” You mumbled the question, sleep still evident in your voice.
“No, it was pretty comfortable actually. You're like a sloth kind of.”
You rolled your eyes, laying your head down again. “You look like one.”
“Rude, and after I canceled plans with Donghyuck to come see you.” Jeno was only joking, he would’ve declined plans with Donghyuck even if he didn’t come to see you.
“Sorry again,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to lead you on.”
He scoffs playfully, “Hey I’m your friend before anything else.” He’s not sure why it felt so icky to say it but he continues, “I don’t need sex just to want to see you.”
You blush at his words, hiding your face deeper into his chest. “Yeah well, you're the first guy I’ve ever met like that.”
Jeno wasn't sure of most of your dating history, he wasn't the type to just ask but now he couldn’t help but be a bit curious. “Have you dated men like that?”
“Not dated, I’m not one for a relationship.” He knew that. The two of you had related plenty, but now he was itching to know more about you.
“Is there a reason?”
“No, not particularly at least.” You stir, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you lay on your back, looking up at the ceiling filled with the tiniest glow in the dark stars that had been there for years. “I mean for some time I did want that, but then I lost my virginity and I guess I realized that love isn’t something that happens in real life.”
There’s not a single ounce of pain in your voice. “I held it off for the longest time, save for love kind of thing. Then in college I ended up sleeping with a crush and really it didn't live up to any expectations. The guy hardly even acknowledged me at all except for my body.”
Jeno scowled, the stupidity of men would be their demise. He could understand why women wanted nothing to do with them, there were plenty of fish in the sea sure, but just how many were the parasitic kind that drained the life out of women.
“It was alright I guess, led me to now. And congrats, you're the only man to actually care enough to make sure I finish.” You joke, though there’s an underlying embarrassment in your voice. One that he catches quickly.
“Do you regret it?” He asks. No malice in his words, just pure curiosity.
You shrug, “I guess I regret that it wasn’t like the books I write. There was no attentiveness, just impulsivity. If I could’ve then I would’ve wanted my first time to be with someone I could fully trust, someone who would treat me carefully knowing it was my first.”
He nods, though you don’t notice it at all. There’s too many things running through his head. You deserved better, even now you deserved the best. He wanted for you to fall in love just like the stories you wrote. The uneasy heartbeats, the anxiousness of not knowing if your feelings were reciprocated, then eventually the love confession that brought on a happy ending.
You deserved it more than anyone in the world.
“But it’s already passed so it’s nothing to dwell on,” You say, sitting up. “Now how about the ramen you brought?”
Jeno knows better than to argue, offering a smile instead.
“Coming right up.”
☆ 📚 ☆
The rest of your week had gone about as well as it could while you were on your period. You of course had to show up to work, despite the cramps and lower back aches, keeping a smile on throughout your shift while experiencing some of the worst discomfort ever.
The only way you survived was because of the pain killers Yuqi had given you and the take out from the restaurant down the street. Jeno hadn’t stopped by as often as you hoped. He told you that Mark was becoming more strict with practice as the group went viral for the third time in the month. You had seen a couple of videos, more recently one that was a q&a with Jeno. You had already known every answer of his, so anyone who considered themselves Jeno fans could suck it.
Speaking of which, he had also told you to hurry home tonight, which you figured was because he finally had time to visit. Your spirits were lifted now, you only hoped it wasn't so obvious as you left work to head straight home.
You squeaked open the door, expecting Meowy to meet you the way she always did with everyone who’d set foot into the apartment. Instead, you were met with a floor full of rose petals, candles (not real ones of course that was a fire hazard), lining up the hallway into your kitchen that was fully decorated with more roses and dinner plates. Your heart skipped a beat, the thought of an intruder stopping by and setting up all of this as a passing thought until you met eyes with Jeno.
He stood wearing a black buttoned up top tucked into the jeans he had on. It was casual enough that you didn’t feel underdressed, having come home straight from work in jeans and a basic tank top you’d put under your work uniform.
“Hey.” He beamed, the same puppy-like way that you were used to but somehow now made your heart feel like it could burst any second.
You freeze for a moment. “What is all of this?”
“Dinner. Oh don’t worry, this is a recipe my family cook taught me how to make so it should be edible.” He jokes, grabbing onto your hand to lead you to your seat. You sit down, overwhelmed by the burst of emotions flowing through your chest, he sits ahead of you.
“Japchae?” He nods. “I would’ve cooked up something like steak but I thought maybe this was a safe bet.”
You pause for a moment, only this time he must notice the shift in your demeanor. “Are you okay?” He asks, a slight tone of fear in his voice, he must’ve thought you were upset.
“I’m just I don’t understand,” You say finally. “Why all of this for me?”
He doesn’t take a single second to think about it, “Because you deserve it.”
“But I'm not- I've never even had a date treat me like this,” You stammer.
He chuckles a response. “Y/N, because I wanted to. How’s that for a reason?”
You still don’t understand it fully. This was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you, the previous being your mother who gifted you a custom typewriter for your sixth birthday, only this made zero sense. It wasn’t even your birthday.
There must be a hint of hesitance he picks up on, because in a second his hand is over yours in a comforting gesture. “If it helps, think of this as part of our rules. I’m trying to give you inspiration.”
Right, of course. That made perfect sense, why else would Jeno have gone all of his way to set up such a nice dinner like this. You offer a small smile, nodding as you reach for your chopsticks. “Okay, then let’s not let this go to waste.”
Jeno smiles, relieved.
Dinner went well as soon as the alcohol was brought out. One glass was enough to make your nerves disappear , the conversation between you stirring from small gossip he’d learned from Jaemin’s loud mouth to early memories the two of you remember from the first years of your friendships.
The japchae was more than just great you came to find out. Jeno could seriously have become a world class chef if he didn’t stick to his career now, speaking of which had only become way more demanding than ever. But he was happy, and you were even happier than he was. The man was a once in the lifetime talent, he deserved all of the love and recognition in the world.
“Neno,” you said suddenly. “It’s getting pretty late.”
He hums, “Yeah I’ll clean up and I can g—“
“No!” You scream shutting him up. “Stay. Please.”
He laughs, “Okay princess.”
“I’ll be back, just–” You’re suddenly shy, avoiding any eye contact with him. “I’m going to go clean up a bit, maybe after we can cuddle or something.” You hope he doesn’t make you explain more and just gets the memo. Luckily, he grins knowingly. “I’ll be back!” You shout as you run towards the bathroom.
You were never the shy type, but as you step outside of the shower, you feel an overwhelming amount of anxiousness. You slipped into a loose fitting shirt. One Jeno had left behind. He was lying down in your bed, scrolling on his phone until you entered. Jeno’s eyes turn to you, discarding whatever he’d been watching on his phone and sitting up straight on the edge of your bed.
“You’re wearing my shirt,” he states with an expression that you could only describe as want, though it didn’t feel fitting enough.
“I hope that’s okay,” you answer, approaching him until you’re right where he sits. His hand comes up, brushing your cheek. You shiver despite his hand being warm and inviting.
“You’re breathtaking.”
You blush at the compliment, pulling his hand away from your face to move it to your hips, climbing on top of him swiftly. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me—“
“Not for that, for everything else.”
“I meant it when I said you deserve it.”
You lean in, his breath catching as your lips connect to his. There’s a subtle desperation in the way he kisses back, where most of your kisses were fervent, this one was full of something more. No fight for dominance but rather a way of expressing your gratitude.
Jeno tugs at his shirt, lifting it off of your body. “Can I?” He asks, earning a nod from you before he’s flipping you onto the mattress. You’re laid completely bare, at least figuratively with the way he’s looking at you, like he’s undressing you with his eyes alone.
You have barely a second to catch your breath, Jeno’s lips trailing over your breasts as he unclasps your bra. You shudder, your chest laid naked as the cool air hits you.
“Fuck– Neno.” You moan as he takes your left breast into his mouth, his tongue flat over the sensitive nub. His hand comes up, palming your right breast, his thumb circling against your nipple.
You’re only growing needier with every second, every lick sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. He pulls away, and you take the opportunity to pull him in for another kiss, this one heavier than the last. You button his shirt while he’s distracted, pulling it down and discarding it to the floor.
Jeno’s breathless as he pulls away, his eyes full of want. “Can I taste you?”
You nod, and he’s kissing you again. His hand moving to slide your panties off. He reacts in an instant, leaving kisses down your stomach until he’s face to face with your needy cunt.
His breath fanning over your folds, driving you insane with every second he spends refusing to take action. “Please,” you whine. He snaps out of whatever haze he’d been in, his tongue tracing against your folds that leaves you panting.
Your legs fight to close, his hand keeping them stretched open enough for him to continue lapping at your juices in peace. You call his name, moans growing louder as he presses closer against you, his nose pressing against your clit.
Your hands are moving before you can stop them, reaching out to tug on his hair. He moans into your pussy, the sound traveling through you evoking you to moan.
You cry out, twitching around his tongue as he begins to fuck you with the muscle. Your juices mixed with his spit sliding down his chin in a beautiful mess.
His name trails off of your lips like a melody. The sound meshing with the loud squelches of him devouring you. He pulls away, substituting his tongue for his digits.
“Oh my– nghh Neno—“ You can feel tears threatening to spill. The pace of his fingers fucking you rough as he sucks your clit. He continues to fuck his fingers into you, curling them to hit your pleasure point directly. Your legs squeezing around his head as you cum with one last cry of his name.
He laps up your fluids, his nose pressing against your sensitive clit with how messy he is. “Jeno baby, please,” you beg, the overstimulation getting to you. He doesn’t seem to notice, continuing to lick against your folds until you're dragging him to look at you.
His hair is a mess with how much your hands tugged at the strands. He meets your gaze, his lips and chin wet with you, pupils completely dilated. “I’m sorry baby.”
You shake your head, tugging at him to come back up. When he does you’re kissing him, sucking on his tongue to taste more of yourself. He groans into your mouth, pulling away to let out a gasp. “Fuck.”
Your brows furrow, meeting his eyes where he looks down at himself, a small wet patch visible through his pants. He just came untouched from eating you out. A burst of pride shoots through you, drawing you to kiss at him again.
“You’re so fucking hot, can I please take these off of you?” You ask, batting your lashes.
“When you ask like that, who am I to say no?”
You smile, unbuckling his pants and rushing to rip them off of him like the fabric was life threatening. Your hand palms against him, his size growing with the slightest touch of yours.
He’s holding back a groan when you start sucking at his neck, leaving hickeys on display for everyone to see. For everyone to know that he’s yours.
He helps you take off his boxers, another piece of fabric meeting your floor. He's fully erect, the thick muscle hitting against his abdomen with a slap. Your mouth waters at the sight, taking in his size with your eyes and zeroing in on the thick vein that runs along the shaft.
You suck in a breath, envisioning how nice it would be to feel him inside your mouth, his hand forcing your head down until your gagging as he fucks your face. That would have to do another time, for now, you wanted nothing more but to feel him in your guts.
“You like what you see?”
“Corny.” You answer, earning a chuckle from him before he’s pecking your lips again.
“You love me.”
He says it so casually, yet it still makes you feel weak in the knees. “And other things.”
Jeno lines up to your entrance, knocking your breath out of you as he sinks into you. The squeeze is tight, but it’s not unbearable. He’s giving you a few seconds to adjust until you nod at him to continue.
The first thrust is enough to pull a loud moan from your lips, your hands coming around his back to steady yourself. It’s obscene, his hips slapping against your thighs as he drills into you over and over again.
You can already feel pressure start to build up again, your nails digging into his skin drawing a curse from his lips.
“It feels that good, baby?”
“Neno– please please don’t stop—“
“I won't princess.” He says before fucking into you faster, this time his lips swallowing your moans as he kisses you like his life depends on it. Your body feels light, consumed by the feeling of him. You’re crying, you can taste the saltiness of your tears as he kisses you through it.
He must tell you’re close because his hand goes down to rub against your clit, the circular motion sending you close to the edge.
“Come on princess, let go for me baby.”
With those final words you’re clamping down around him, your orgasm flooding down your thighs only producing a wetter sound as he continues to pistol into you. His thrusts grow sloppier until he’s finally reached his own climax. His cum spurting into you, filling you up.
Your words are barely coherent, voice wrecked with all of the screaming you did. You’d have to bake a few apology cookies and offer them to your unlucky neighbors. Jeno kisses around your face, cooing you until your tears stop, his final kiss being one to your lips.
You open your eyes, his own meeting you with what you could only assume was fear, but quickly disappearing just as it happened shifting to one of… you couldn’t tell.
The previous you who had felt bare had nothing on you now. Because even as Jeno pulled out, his cum dripping down into the sheets, you couldn’t help the feeling in your stomach.
Something had changed.
Part Four:
Heart-shaped box
☆ 🎸☆
Jeno was in a funk. Ever since the date he set up he felt insane. Something was different, he knew it deep down. It wasn’t an obvious fact, you had continued to text him like normal, even sending him dress options for the wedding he had sprung onto you so late.
You didn’t mind, casually sending him your finds from shopping trips you went on with Shuhua. He took in a sharp breath every time you sent him a picture, his lungs felt like they would collapse at any moment with how great you looked. Though it was mostly you, even showing up to the wedding with your hand around his arm would provoke that reaction from him.
He imagined it now, you being so close to him as he introduces you to his family. A smile on your face and a light blush because as much as you were a confident speaker you would probably still feel nervous to meet his parents at such an important event.
Jeno got that same weird feeling in his stomach, covering his face so the rest of the guys wouldn’t see.
“Yo are you good” Mark asks, “Your face is all red, you're not sick or anything right?”
“He could be because you can’t help but keep the fucking air conditioner on all through out the night!” Donghyuck argues. Mark rolls his eyes.
“Jeno isn’t sick,” Jaemin moves the back of his hand to check Jeno’s temperature. “Yup not sick.”
“I’m fine guys, really.”
“I don’t think so, you’ve been spacing out a bit lately.” Donghyuck sing songs, “kind of like when Jisung was heartbroken and slumping around like a kicked puppy.”
“I don’t think I was that bad,” jisung replies, earning a “you were” from everyone else.
“Seriously I’m just thinking a lot lately.”
“Wait like really?” That seems to get the group's attention, they get closer, gathering around him like a kettle of vultures.
“You say that like I’m an idiot.”
“An idiot no—“ “debatable.” Donghyuck starts, earning a scowl from Jeno to which he hides behind Mark. “You aren’t one to think about things too much, you're level headed like that.” Jaemin finishes his thought.
“Yeah hyung, so no offense but it’s a once in a lifetime experience to see you act so–“ Jisung contemplates, “so lost.”
Jeno wasn't sure when any of them had caught onto any of that but apparently they did. He really wasn't the type to open up, but there was a time for anything. “Okay yeah, I guess it’s just a lot of changes lately.”
“Go on.”
And so he did. Jeno went on to explain every detail of yours and his arrangement, well the ones that mattered, up until now. The date, the sex, the way he couldn’t help but feel like he was stuck in a Train going down a different path than he ever expected yet he wasn't even mad about it.
“Oh my gosh,” Jaemin squeals. “I knew you were both meant to be!”
“Great going Jeno, I owe him five dollars now I hope you're happy."
“What?” Jeno asks.
“Jaemin did always say he had a gut feeling that you and Y/N would end up together,” Mark agreed. “That bet lasted shorter than expected though.”
“I think you’re confused,” Jeno starts. “It’s not like that. Me and Y/N are just friends with benefits.”
“Right and the benefits include date nights, home cooked meals, and life altering sex after?” Donghyuck taunts. Jisung makes a look of disgust at the last part.
“As much as I don’t think the last part was necessary,” Donghyuck shrugs. “I do agree. That's not at all what friends with benefits do.”
Jeno isn’t sure what to say. Was he at fault for this sudden shift? It felt like he was, but then again you didn’t seem to act like anything was wrong either. Maybe the guys were being dramatic. Jaemin looks at him like he knows what Jeno is trying to do.
“Answer this one thing,” Jaemin starts. “Do you feel your heart beat a little faster around her?”
Jeno nods.
“And when you think about her. What about then?”
Jeno felt the blood creep up his neck. How the hell would Jaemin be able to tell that.
“Think about it Jeno, it shouldn’t be that hard.”
Jeno frowns. Could he be… no. There’s no way. But then he thinks back to you, your contagious laughs and smiles.
Oh.
“What does this mean now?”
“Well you’ve already got the grand gestures down, loverboy.”
“This time, just add the confession.” Jisung adds.
☆ 📚 ☆
Time had gone by quicker than you’d thought. The continuous dress shopping leading up to this exact moment. You had packed up well, joining Jeno in road-tripping to Jeju island. It consisted mainly of sleeping, singing along to music completely off key, and feeding Jeno snacks while he drove.
You hadn’t felt the subtle shift in the area around each other, not when every time you looked away he made sure to keep his eyes on you until he couldn’t.
The wedding was in the afternoon. A ceremony that would end with a sunset. This made for really good inspiration for the third part in your book series, so you made sure to make a mental note of it.
You changed into your dress, hidden in one of the hotel’s rooms as Jeno got ready with the rest of his immediate family. You felt nervous, the outfit fitting way more exposed than you were used to.
“Y/N! Can I come in?”
“Uh, yes!” Seulgi walks in, a bright smile on her face as she does. “I didn’t think you’d have time to stop by and do anything.”
“Yeah well, I promised Jeno I would check in on you,” She gives you a look over, “You look beautiful.”
You blush, “No of course not, you look great.”
“I do, don’t I.” She does a bit of a twirl, the sleek yet elegant white gown hardly moving except for the flared fabric at the bottom.
You’d never imagined a life of marriage for you, but seeing Seulgi look so bright and happy made you second guess. Perhaps there could be someone to change that? Perhaps even–
“Jeno’s waiting outside. I’m going to go set myself up for pictures before the ceremony begins.” She gives you one last nod. “I’m glad you came.”
You offer a smile in return, “Thank you for inviting me.”
You had unfortunately not been able to catch Jeno before the ceremony began, sitting on the outskirts as the family sat front row to Seulgi, as did her wife’s family in the opposite direction. Jeno had made sure that even with the distance, at any opportunity he would look at you.
Goosebumps rising on your body with the way he looked into your eyes so sure. And with every vow spoken, it almost felt like he meant it to you. You had to take a breath the second it ended, being pulled by one of Jeno’s cousins who had claimed you as her new best friend. She dragged you towards the drinks, offering you a glass of champagne that you held onto.
Beyond the live orchestra that you were sure you would only live to see once in your lifetime, there was nothing but cheers for the happy couple. You were a bit too invested to have noticed Jeno sneak behind you, his hand tapping on your shoulder.
“I didn’t get the chance to tell you how beautiful you look.” He says, staring at you with a quiet longing you didn't pick up on.
“You can tell me now,” You tease.
He chuckles, his hand hesitating for a moment before it finds its way around your waist, pulling you closer as his lips graze your ear. “Youre the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” You don’t even get the chance to reply, the words falling flat on your tongue.
“What an honor it is to meet you.”
You look up to see the same woman who had stood up on stage before, Mrs. Lee. The musical genius in the flesh. Jeno, quickly moving to give the two of you space to talk, though remaining close enough.
You bow quickly, a perfect ninety degrees. “No, it's an honor to meet you. Your work is truly inspiring, I tell Jeno everyday just how lucky he is to have a mother so efficient and hardworking.”
She brightens, “Do you study music as well?”
“No ma’am, unfortunately I’m tone deaf but I appreciate it all the much more.” You reply shyly. “I’m a writer.”
“Ah,” Her smile widens, “That’s beautiful. I am quite fond of authors myself, please do tell me what you happen to write?”
“I’m only now starting, but if all things go to plan I should have my first novel released soon.” You nod, looking at Jeno who hadn’t once let go of his hold on your waist. As if sensing it, his mother turns attention to the area, smirking playfully.
“Well I do wish to own a copy once it does release, and Jeno.” She beckons her son. “Do bring her again more often, I think the two of you make the perfect pair.”
She apologies, stepping back into the celebration. You feel like a weight was lifted off of your chest, somehow wanting nothing more than the woman’s approval.
“Oh my god, I shouldn’t have mentioned that. How do I even talk about my book with her when you inspired half of it.”
Jeno laughs, “I don’t think she minds. She knows more than she lets on, she just likes for people to introduce themselves anyway.”
Your eyes widen, "You're saying she probably has a hundred page long history on my entire existence?”
“A hundred pages sure sounds humble,” he jokes.
“Neno!”
“I know, I'm only joking.” His hand comes up to smooth over your cheek. You can’t help but lean into his hold, breathing in the subtle hint of wood from the cologne he must’ve put on as he got ready. “Can I show you somewhere?”
“That sounds like something a murderer would say,” He sighs and despite your heart thundering you continue. “But yes.”
The first thing you notice is how silent it is besides the waves crashing into the sand. The entire property had been closed off, a subtle flex Jeno hadn’t intended when he told you about the place on the drive over. It was dark despite the fairy lights hanging off the building, the only real lighting coming from the full moon that was cast up above you.
You think of all of the possibilities that could come about in your book. Every piece of inspiration coming from the past few months up until this moment. Only you knew it couldn’t continue this way, not with how risky it became. Not when you realized just by looking at Jeno in his suit, laughing with the rest of his family just how easy it would be to get used to this. To crave more.
“Do you like this place?”
“I love it.” You speak carefully, suddenly overwhelmed with how comfortable the silence was between you two. You're not sure when your chest became so heavy, or when breathing felt like a pierced blade to your chest.
“Princess.” Jeno calls you, and you wish you could answer him but you just can’t. He must’ve repeated himself again, because the next second he’s at your side forcing you to look into his eyes.
And even with the rough lighting and the blurry vision, he still took away every last bit of your sanity. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
You can tell he’s stressed, and you aren’t even sure when you started to cry but here you were with your makeup probably ruined, struggling to catch a breath. When did it become so hard to look at him without feeling like the world was crumbling beneath you? When did his pure existence have such profound meaning to you? No, that you could answer, because even a panic attack couldn’t take away from the fact that you loved Lee Jeno.
“I–“ You try to speak, only embarrassing yourself as you choke up on the words, warm tears spilling down your face.
“Hey, look at me. It’s okay, we’re okay.”
No, everything was not okay. You had fucked up the only rule that really mattered. You had done yourself the worst by falling in love with him.
“Y/N.” He’s clearly worried, though he masks it well enough. You look up at him, “I’m sorry, I made the rules myself and I couldn’t even follow them.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think I– no. I know it now. I’m in love with you.” You close your eyes refusing to look at him. “I didn’t mean to, and I know this is so sudden and you don’t feel the same at all but I just—“
You never get the chance to finish your sentence. His lips come crashing into yours, the same passion from the kiss you’d shared only nights before. He’s pouring every ounce of a love confession to you, hoping it will be enough to clear your mind of any doubts you had that he wasn’t yearning for your love.
He’s the oxygen you need to breathe. That’s your first thought when he pulls away. “I was supposed to be the one to tell you first.” He whispers.
“Then maybe you should’ve said it sooner,” You taunt, his thumb tracing over your tear stained cheeks.
He frowns, “I promise I was going to. It just took me a bit longer to realize.”
You gasp, feigning offense. “Wow, here I am pouring my heart out to you and instead you let me embarrass myself!”
“It’s not embarrassing to see you cry, you’re pretty even when you do.”
You hope it’s dark enough for him not to notice how flustered you are. “Don’t use flattery to get out of this!”
“Oh?” He pokes at your cheek. “But you seem to enjoy it a lot.”
He closes the distance, pecking the corner of your lips that results in a bashful smile from you. “Don’t worry, you have the rest of our lives to get used to my compliments.”
“Is that your way of saying you’re madly in love with me?”
“I think the kiss established that earlier. But yes Y/N, and I’d love for you to be my girlfriend too.”
“Ah,” you contemplate. “What are the benefits?”
“Everything we’ve done the past few months and more, you just got to experience the free trial.”
You shove at him playfully. “Then I gladly accept.” You say, and before he can give a snarky response you’re pulling him closer. Closing the distance between the two of you to share a kiss, this time as lovers.
Epilogue
Scary Love
It was Déjà vu. You sat anxiously in the same office you’d been in before. Only this time, you were confident that Shuhua wouldn’t turn you away, oh and of course the fingers you had been fiddling with happened to be of the man sitting right beside you.
Shuhua sets the papers down, her expression flat.
“So?” You grow more anxious, biting your bottom lip.
“I’ll let the graphic design department begin searching for an artist to go along with your cover art.” Your eyes widen. “It's wonderful.”
You jump up, dragging Jeno up on his own feet to celebrate with a hug. He smiles, not at all minding the fact that you’d just manhandled him.
You turn and face Shuhua then, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes. “Shuhua!”
“Don’t cry you big baby, you were always going to make it, you just needed more time.” She smiles, pulling you in for a short hug. “I’m proud of you y/n.”
“How am I not supposed to cry when you say things like that!”
The two of them laugh at you as you hug Jeno, hiding your face in his shirt. “I told you she’d love it.” Jeno says, patting your back. You look up at him, “It’s really thanks to you.”
He chuckles, “Thanks princess, but I wasn’t the one who wrote it.”
“Ah but you're the one who inspired it all!” You tease him, “Maybe I should add you as a co-writer.”
“Mhmm I’m sure my fans would be taken aback.”
“I don’t think they’d mind. Lee Jeno is known for being multiskilled after all.”
“Don’t you guys have places to be,” Shuhua groans. “I heard you booked a sold out show.”
“Oh right!” You exclaim, “we should really get going, don't want to keep anyone waiting.”
“Right, go on and leave! Take your puppy with you!”
Oblivion had really reached new heights of popularity, they’d been working so hard these past few months working on pushing out a full album that you had almost forgotten how your boyfriend looked. You giggle at the thought, you were Lee Jeno’s girlfriend.
The fans quickly took a liking to you, with how loud and relatable your personality was. They’d even spotted the two of you on a date (if you can call grocery shopping that) not too long ago, asking for a picture with Jeno that you quickly agreed to. Jeno, as humble as ever, had gushed at their compliments. And when the fan suddenly turned to you asking if they could also have a picture, Jeno was way too quick to take fifty of them.
Things were great, even with the busy schedules between the two of you, you made sure to make time to go to his shows.
“Guys, we’re going to need you on stage in the next ten minutes.” Chenle, Oblivion’s new manager, reminded everyone.
“Yes sir!” Mark saluted the man, “You heard him guys, hurry up.”
“I’m going to miss you.” You pout, running your hands over your boyfriend's forearm.
“Don’t be silly, I’m going to be looking right at you.”
“I don’t think the fans will appreciate that.”
“No they will,” Darling adds into your conversation. “They’ll add it to your cutest couple moments compilations.”
“You sound like you know them so well.”
“She has secret chat rooms with them,” Donghyuck squints at darling. “Where else would they have gotten those pictures of me and Jaemin.”
Jaemin wrapped an arm around the tan man. “Nope, all me.”
You laugh at the two of them, Jeno’s arms wrapping around you and he snuggles into your neck. “Do you want to come up on stage later?”
“Neno you know I can’t.”
“You can if it’s an encore,” he sighs. He really does look like such a puppy when he makes those eyes. “Please baby.”
You couldn’t say no to him. “Fine.”
He smiles, pulling you in for a short and sweet kiss that's partially interrupted by Chenle stopping by again to shout, "Five more minutes!”
“You guys are kind of disgusting.” Jisung scowls but from where he has his head laying to rest on darling’s shoulder.
“You say that, but need we remind you of the heinous acts the two of you got up to before our show?” Jeno threatens the couple with a smile on his face.
They match each other’s beet red. The rest of the band turned to laugh at the pair, teasing the couple further. That reminded you.
“Neno,” You ask. “Have you ever considered red hair?”
By the time the last song ended the crowd pushed for more, which meant that you could make do of your promise to your boyfriend. Security allowed for you to pass through and onto the stage, Jeno capturing your entire body the second you got close. “I missed you.”
“I thought you said you’d be looking right at me.”
“Yeah but that only made me miss you more.”
The band, as per fan request, chose to perform their final song again, this time with a twist. Jisung was to take over lead vocals as the rest of them swapped instruments, safe for Jeno who instead had to direct you to play for him.
You sat on his lap, a bright smile on your face that was battling the stage lights. You’d never felt happier, you think, sitting with Jeno. A part of it scared you, not knowing what could come out of this. You hadn’t ever expected to be living as one of your novels, but here was the man in front of you willing to give you your happy ending. Loving you so openly despite his similar fears.
“Here,” he gives you a drum stick. You accept holding onto it as his bigger hand wraps around yours. “Follow my lead.” He brings the stick down, hitting the snare with light force. Not enough to have you jumping off of him but enough for you to squeal in shock.
His laughs fill your ears despite the heavy music and crowd. And as you turn back barely able to look straight into his eyes, you find him already looking into yours. This time with an expression you find easy to recognize with how much you love him too.
You realize it then, you’d follow his lead anywhere.
࣪𖤐 the end ── ★ ̟
FINAL NOTES: This one was so much less angsty than the other one and I was scared if that would affect the readers experience but my beta reader said that both stories were on par with one another… Anyway i’m happy to write more of these two in the next part.. Donghyuck biases i hope ur excited!!
synopsis. she swears he's the most infuriatingly, sparkly person around — too bright and positively suffocating. But for Jaemin? He's intrigued by her; the gloomy princess frog who he wishes to befriend.
warnings. 18+ minors do not interact, use of pet name (baby, cutie, etc.), unprotected sex, almost getting caught, oral (fem. receiving), fingering, really fluffy.
₊˚⊹ ᰔ A/N: the speed in which I got this out was crazy. I also wanted to thank all of you guys for the love, I'm quite the perfectionist when it comes to my writing, but seeing how well they've been received so far makes me incredibly happy. ily all 💞
Na Jaemin was the heartthrob. If someone plucked him out of a drama, it would be Boys Over Flowers — except he was the flower. Everything about him was charming, endearing, and effervescent. It was almost blinding. Sickening. She'd place bets he threw up rainbows and unicorns, no doubt consuming Lucky Charms sprinkled with stardust for breakfast.
Which is exactly why she avoided him like the plague.
She was an irritable shadow, afraid of being incinerated and consumed by the ebullient sun. Always grumbling and scowling whenever she came into the vicinity of his stupidly wide, toothy grin, paired with that obnoxiously loud laugh.
"You're stabbing at your food," a soft, amused voice cut through the loud chatter of the cafeteria, "Should I be worried that you're also giving me the death glare?"
Y/N doesn't take her eyes off him. She hated how well he held eye-contact, and she wasn't going to lose the little battles before the war. So, she sends him a scowl as a response, her dark, frizzy hair puffing up like a lion's mane.
Jaemin was intrigued by her. She was the only person who would never smile back, never say anything more than a few words to him. As if dealing with him, or people in general, sucked out her limited supply of energy.
Jaemin sits down next to her, his arm brushing against hers with the protection of her thick, knit sweater, "We're supposed to choose our pairs for the science project, wanna work together?"
She let out a scoff, side-eyeing him for the sheer audacity of asking something so absurd, "No," She replies flatly, munching on her cafeteria food that suddenly tasted like slop in his presence.
He raised an amused brow, smile never faltering. Honestly, she would pay good money to see him not smiling for once, "Come on, why not? You're smart and I'm... kinda smart. We'd make a good team! I've even come up with possible names for our duo," he clears his throat as if preparing a proposal for Shark Tank, "sun and moon, yin and yang, Princess and The Frog..."
"Princess?" She scoffs.
"Yeah, I'll be the princess and you can be the fro-," she grumbles under her breath, standing up with her tray and moving to another empty table. Jaemin was unfazed, unfortunately, and followed her casually as if she'd asked to move together.
"Stop following me," Y/N huffed, nestling into her purple sweater as she continued to stab at her food. She could see Jaemin's group of friends watching like vigilant vultures from the corner of her eye.
Haechan, the cocky, intimidating star student — or would be star student if he weren't so lazy. Chenle, the real crazy rich Asian, often coming to school with something designer. And Renjun, the angry artist who she often wondered how he fit in such a group, being as he seemed like the only normal person there.
She could almost hear their judgment, confused on why Jaemin spent almost every lunchtime circling around the grouchy loner.
Jaemin chuckled, slotting into the chair next to her, to which she nudged her chair to the side, trying to get as far away from him as physically possible, even down to the atoms, "it's either I work with you or Jisung... and I don't want to work with him."
Her eyes met his, glaring in a way Jaemin would call cute, strangely, "Not my problem."
Jaemin pokes at her arm, giggling when she jumps, startled, "But whyyy. That guy would be scared at the sight of a bunsen burner, that's not even on, mind you."
"Again, not my problem."
Jaemin pouted, resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he let his soft gaze flick over her features. He had a horrible habit of keeping his eyes locked on people's lips, even more so when they spoke. But, from up close, his appearance matched the mix of a doe and a rabbit with his long, fluttering lashes and big, round eyes.
She hated deers and rabbits.
"Would it be your problem if we were friends?" Jaemin asked suddenly. Everything about his voice to his gaze were genuine. He meant every word, and that scared her.
She froze, grip tightening on her cutlery as she slowly met his watching eyes, "Friends?"
"Friends," Jaemin added, "I want us to be friends. You're nice."
She snorted. For the first time, she actually made a sound close enough to be a laugh and Jaemin, startled, looked at her like a deer caught in headlights. As if a UFO had landed right in front of him and aliens stepped out wearing chicken suits, "You're delusional."
"Delusional or not, I made you laugh. Even more of a reason for us to be friends, I'm a good influence on you," Jaemin teased. Immediately, her expression faltered.
The sun was obnoxiously loud, and infuriatingly cocky.
The sun was, indeed, loud.
When she woke up this morning, she never would have guessed how horrible today would be. Not until Jaemin raised his hand incredibly high and chirped to the science teacher, "Y/N and I would like to be partners!"
If looks could kill, Jaemin would be shot dead on Earth, stopped before he got to the pearly white gates; his soul extracted into a minuscule bottle, crushed and thrown into the deepest, tenebrous voids before he even had a chance at getting reincarnated.
She sighed, loudly. She could hear people whispering, their watchful gaze flicking between the pair. Jaemin was as smiley as ever, his eyes little crescents as he skipped over to her, flower petals trailing behind him like some spring-happy leprechaun.
Y/N placed her bag on the one free seat next to her, and Jaemin pouted just as he got to her table, "Hey, is that how you treat your partner?"
She couldn't even spare him a glance, not with her seething, "I told you, I didn't want to be your partner."
Jaemin shrugs, placing his books on the table and pulls out a separate chair to sit in front of her — all without complaint or a twitching smile. He could tell she was mad at him, he wasn't a fool. Usually, she'd be boring burning hot holes into his skin with her piercing glare, though now, she kept her eyes on her science book, not sparing him a glance.
He was cautious with his movements, watching her as he sat right in front, just close enough to smell the soft hint of lavender from her jumper. He didn't want to scare her off or build the tension further so, he did the next best thing he could think of.
Digging into his bag, he pulls out his phone and wired earphones, ones he carried with him for years. It was to anyone's amazement how they lasted so long. He scrolls through his playlist, trying to find anything that was calming enough and, when he does, he grins to himself, leaning over to place one bud into her ear.
Her eyes snapped to his, his finger still pressed to the earbud to stop her from snatching it out so quickly, but that meant he was closer than he had ever been. She couldn't help but to notice those dark eyes that reflected the glittering ceiling lights as his warm, gentle and hesitant breath brushed her dewy skin, "What are you-"
"Just... I know you don't want to talk to me right now so, let's listen to some music together. Just this once," his smile was softer now, eyes trained on her with a hint of nervousness.
When Jaemin realised she wasn't making a move to yank the earphones out, he slowly retracted his hand, letting the music play. Surprisingly, the song was calming and sweet — a stark contrast to the energiser bunny who sat in front of her, grinning like a madman just at her tolerating his presence.
Jaemin confused her. She couldn't understand how someone could be so... sunshine and rainbows. Just looking at him was exhausting, feeling the corners of her lips burn at the simple thought of grinning twenty four hours of every day. He may as well have had more muscles on his lips than she had in her arms.
"You're always smiling," she mutters, scribbling random doodles into her science book, not caring if it affects the presentation. She felt herself calming a little from the music alone.
Jaemin nods slowly, looking through their worksheet for the experiment they had to do over the course of the week, "Is that a bad thing?"
It felt like that question alone stumped her. It wasn't that smiling was a bad thing, but with Jaemin, it always felt forced — maintaining the good boy image. She scoffs lightly, "It's annoying."
He only laughs at that, leaning in closer as his voice turns to a whisper, "So, if I smiled less, you'd tolerate me more?"
Her confused look had Jaemin smiling at her like a fool, trying to see how far he could push as he pulled away, "Tolerate me enough to become friends, I mean. You didn't give me an answer yesterday either."
"Thought it was an obvious no," she takes the spare worksheet and starts filling in the equipment they'd need and the correct order of steps.
Jaemin lets out a sudden, obnoxiously loud "wow" at the sight of the work she had done in a mere five minutes. He snatches it from the desk, his thumbs digging into the edges of the paper as he held it up in amazement, lips puckered in an exaggerated 'O', before his gaze flicked to her, always searching for a hint of a reaction, "I don't think we will need a whole week to get this experiment done. At least, not with you as my partner."
"Don't get used to it. You're pulling your own weight for this project," Y/N mumbles, snatching the worksheet out of his hands, her fingers brushing his in the process. She flinches slightly at the contact, and Jaemin doesn't let it slide, his smile sneakily widening.
"Well too late. I'm already naming my future children after you."
She stares at him with a deadpanned expression, "You're so weird."
"Thank you," he beams.
There's a long silence after that. She quietly observes Jaemin, whose lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, smile softening as he chooses another song on his playlist, humming along to it. Then, her gaze drops to the paper again.
"Are you serious about being friends?" she asks softly, not looking up, voice so low he almost doesn't hear it.
He stops humming, "Yeah, I am."
Y/N finally looks up, and Jaemin's not smiling this time, clearly serious.
She considers it. Actually weighs the pros and cons of being friends with the sun which, if she hadn't known any better, would only repeat Icarus' story, where her wax wings would melt if she got too close, "Don't expect me to tell you my favourite colour or make friendship bracelets out of loom bands with you."
Jaemin's smile slowly returns, as if he's waiting for her to change her mind, "That's okay, you can start by telling me what you hate most about me."
She snorts, "As if there's enough time for that in a day."
"Perfect," he sends her his classic toothy grin, "Guess I have more of an excuse to hang around you for longer, then."
The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, illuminating the multi-coloured shelves filled with snacks and bold coloured stickers with deals peppered along the products. It had smelled faintly of overripe bananas, cheap detergent, and air freshener — the familiar scent of your standard convenience stores. Jaemin had wandered the snack aisle on a lazy evening, indecisively scouring the 2-for-1 promotions. He was low on energy after spending the whole afternoon playing football against his will. Though, he was somewhat grateful it wasn't basketball this time, thanks to Chenle going on some last minute holiday.
All thoughts screeched to a halt while he was scanning for some snacks, seeing her behind the till. She wore the stores' basic, bright blue apron, the collar of the white undershirt slightly crooked, and an upside-down name tag pinned to her chest which gave more than enough away that she was in a rush to get to her shift. But most of all, she was smiling at the elderly woman in front of her, offering a genuine laugh when the lady made a joke he could barely make out.
Her laugh was so pretty to him. Despite it being awkward, tethering on deep yet with a sweet lilt... It was so unique, so adorable and something he wished he could hear over and over again, like a broken record.
He couldn't get over that smile, either. It brightened up her face and made her even more gorgeous than she already was. His eyes were locked on the soft and slightly shy grin, tugging up on one side. He had never seen her like that before, but he was already obsessed, his heart clenching as a sudden cuteness aggression overcame him.
The moment she noticed him walking towards the register with a basket of snacks, however, her expression had snapped back into its usual stormy cloud, the corners of her lips sinking into a scowl. Jaemin stifled a laugh as he set his snacks down on the counter.
"Hey," he whined, yet his voice was as bright and sunny as always, "I'm a customer too, where's my smile?"
"What are you doing here, Jaemin?" she grumbled, already scanning the items with speedy efficiency, clearly wanting to get rid of him.
"I came to see you," He let the sentence hang just long enough between them before correcting himself, "Actually... I just wanted some snacks."
She glanced at the box of Lucky Charms he placed on the counter —bright and completely childlike, just like him. She blinked before letting out a soft giggle, the sound barely audible, but loud enough for Jaemin to catch it. He felt butterflies going haywire in the pits of his stomach.
"You seriously eat this shi- stuff?"
"Religiously," he replied, smirking, "I'm convinced it really is sprinkled with some magical form of luck."
"Oh yeah, and what have you been lucky with?" she muttered, slipping the items into a plastic bag.
"You," he added with a grin. There was no hesitation in the way he had said it, especially with that stupid, shit-eating grin and the mischievous light in his eyes. But she forced her expression to remain neutral, even when a string of curses sat on the tip of her tongue.
The occasional beep of items being scanned and the quiet chatter of the other customers in the back had filled the silence between them. Jaemin leaned back and forth, raising an amused brow at her, cocky from having gotten to her in some way.
"I didn't know you worked here," he said finally, trying to fill in the silence and not wanting this moment with her to end so soon.
Y/N shrugged, adjusting the strap of her apron as she suddenly started to feel awkward, "It's... just part-time. Pays for things like snacks. But I never get to eat them because I have to smile at people like you all day."
He grinned wider, ignoring her slight jab, "So you do smile."
"God, you're annoying," she groans, packing the last of the items and gesturing to the till for him to pay.
Jaemin only smirks wider, tapping his card until a beep resounded in the shop, "And you're blushing."
"I am not-"
"Oh, you definitely are, but this would surely make you blush more...," He leans in, grabbing the plastic bag out of her hands, fingers barely brushing, as he whispered against the shell of her ear, "you're cuter when you smile."
Her hands stilled slightly as she let go of the bag as if they were opposites on either side of a magnet.
He held her gaze for a moment, before pulling away, "Thanks for the snacks."
"Don't come here again," Y/N grumbled.
Jaemin stepped back towards the automatic doors which kept trying to close, blocking the path of some customers as he smiled like a fool at her, as usual. She hated how he made her feel in this moment, and she could swear her heart had beat louder than the generic pop music which played in the shop. Maybe she would blame the fact that he was someone who does eat lucky charms. But his next words cut through her thoughts as he stifled a laugh before leaving, "No promises, cutie."
And, for some strange reason, that word didn't make her internally gag.
The cafeteria was in a state of a mess; chaotic noise and clattering trays, loud, overlapping conversations, and the sharp screeching of metal chairs. The air had smelt faintly of overcooked pasta and whatever they had tried to pass off as food today — what students would call radioactive slop. But not one table was as loud as the one Jaemin was sat on with his friends.
"I'm telling you, she's the cutest girl around. Like- Haechan, stop laughing, I'm being serious!" Jaemin glares daggers at the male who was barely keeping still on his chair.
"Yeah, I bet. I'd also bet she hexed you," Haechan, who sat across from Jaemin, wipes away a stray tear, followed by a sigh as he calmed down from his burst of laughter.
Renjun sat next to Haechan, nudging him with the pristine sleeve of his blazer. He had always kept a clean-cut appearance where not even a tiny drop of paint ever landed on his attire, "If Jaemin likes her, who cares? I will be judging though, but from the sidelines."
Jaemin grumbles, pushing his half-eaten tray away from him as he crossed his arms, "You guys are assholes. What happened to being happy for me?"
Chenle chirps in, glancing at the woman who was the focus of their conversation sat a few tables down on her own. He jabs a finger into the table, a classic Chenle move whenever he had a 'valid' point to make, eyebrows raised with passion, "You guys are like... the complete opposites of each other. She would definitely steal all your light. Well- on second thought, that's probably a good thing, maybe you'd finally be somewhat bearable to be around."
Jaemin rolls his eyes, stuffing a spoonful of rice and munching it in irritation, "Look, if you actually spoke to her, you'd see that there is more to her. She actually smiles too, and it's so adorable, plus-"
Haechan side-eyes Jaemin; partly for speaking with a mouthful of food, and the other for simping over her of all people, "Don't tell me you're already pussy-whipped when you've only spoken to her once."
Jaemin's mouth drops in shock, "Once?! I've spoken to her like... three, four times?"
Haechan snorts, resting his hands behind his head, sprawling lazily out on the chair, "Might as well have been once. You can count it on one hand. You barely know her."
"Well, I know her better than you guys do, so why are we judging so hard?" Jaemin snaps, and his friends suddenly grow silent and tense. It was unlike the usually sunny male to get angry or irritated. His jaw was clenched as he dropped his metal chopsticks on the tray, the clatter loud.
Renjun clears his throat awkwardly, looking around the table, his brows furrowed softly as he met Jaemin's gaze, "You... do know why everyone avoids her though, don't you?"
Jaemin pauses, eyes flicking to his friend. Something in Renjun's tone makes the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, the tension, paired with worry, simmering.
"What do you mean?" he asks suspiciously, his voice quiet and brows furrowing.
Renjun shifts in his seat, shrugging, "Just… she's not exactly friendly. People say she snapped at teachers, ditched group projects, cursed out that senior last year-"
"She cursed at him because he was mocking her in front of everyone," Jaemin cuts in sharply, his leg bouncing under the table in frustration, "And the group projects... Maybe no one ever wanted to work with her. She had always been a target of stupid jokes. Besides, how is any of that a big deal?"
The table falls quiet again and Chenle raises a brow and puts his hands up in surrender, trying to lighten the mood, "Okay, damn. Someone is ready to fight for her honour."
Jaemin huffs, "No- Look I'm just saying... people love to talk. Don't you think she's just tired of all these assholes?"
Haechan whistles lowly, "Okay, our knight in shining armour, should we start planning the wedding?"
"Shut up," Jaemin mutters, his cheeks flushed pink, "I already did."
The lab was meant to be quiet except, Jaemin was being clumsy with the equipment. The glass beakers kept clinking against each other, and it was surprising how they hadn't smashed into pieces with his large hands. It was only them in the lab, away from the bustling lunch hall, and it was supposed to be them finishing off the experiment before they had to type up their conclusions. However, working with Jaemin was proving to be a separate challenge.
Y/N tugged her sleeves up her arms in frustration as she kept glaring at him and giving him orders. But Jaemin found her to appear less reserved when she wasn't surrounded by others — still sharp around the cute edges, but not enough to make a man cower.
"Put the beaker down slowly," she said, eyeing the glass nervously as Jaemin finished pouring the solution into a separate beaker, "I swear to God if you shatter another one-"
"Relax," Jaemin chuckled, mocking offence as he set it down with exaggerated grace, gesturing to it in celebration. She forgot he had arms that could squash a coconut in one go, panicking at the sight of him handling fragile equipment. But his cockiness worried her even further, "I have the hands of a pianist."
She side-eyed him with a slight look of surprise, "You play the piano?"
"No, but I could," he wiggles his fingers, "with these sexy hands."
She rolled her eyes, but he caught the subtle twitch of her lips before she turned away to fetch the other materials.
They had been measuring and watching the colours blend in the beaker, creating an... interesting solution. He watched her scribble something in the worksheet, noticing her handwriting was messier than he'd expected. It had kept changing its font, far from the consistent and neat image she had presented as, at least, with her personality. His eyes trailed to her frizzy hair that added an adorable, messy look to her, like his favourite character from UP, Ellie.
"You're staring," she mumbled, her pen tapping the edge of the paper in annoyance.
"Just admiring your handwriting," Jaemin teased, leaning slightly closer, glancing to her writing again, "It looks like five different people wrote that."
"Want to lose the ability to smile?"
He chuckled, watching as she moved to hold a pipette above one of the mixtures, "Are you going to start writing the conclusion, or should I do everything?"
Jaemin snapped back to reality, side stepping to grab the worksheet and immediately tapping the pencil to his cheek in thought, "Right, conclusion," he frowned when nothing came to mind, "Something something… mixture."
Y/N slowly turned to face him, "Very insightful," she deadpanned.
He didn't miss the tiniest curve of her mouth again and, God, even when she stifled a smile, it would still hit like a punch to the gut. He was starting to think maybe she was right to hide it as people would be drawn to her like the North Star. And now, it was starting to feel like it was a sight only he was allowed to see.
"You say that like it's not the best conclusion you have ever heard," Jaemin added, pressing the pencil to his lip smugly.
She sighed, snatching the worksheet from him without a word and scribbling a few lines with a quiet confidence that made him raise a brow. Her writing was still chaotic, unlike her thoughts.
He leaned in slightly to peek over at what she wrote, but she folded the paper away from his view like it was a personal diary.
"Do you mind?" she muttered in exasperation.
"Yes," he replied without hesitation, resting his chin on her shoulder to take a better look at the mysterious writing.
Y/N stiffened, her breath hitched as she stayed frozen. It was insane to her how good he smelt, the way her heart stuttered, and the soft weight of him on her shoulder felt... right. She almost let out a loud scoff at her own thoughts before elbowing him sharply in the ribs.
Jaemin let out a dramatic gasp, rubbing the spot with an exaggerated pout, "Excuse me, assault in a science lab full of lethal equipment is a criminal offence!"
"You were in my space."
"It was our space," he mumbled, still rubbing his side, "I would argue we have dual ownership over this lab."
She tongued the inside of her cheek and shoved the worksheet in his direction, "I don't see your name on this paper, Jaemin."
He smirked, feeling his own heart blush at the way his name sounded on her lips, and grabbed the paper, scribbling Na Jaemin (Princess) in the top corner, and (cute frog) next to her name. When he handed it back to her, she glanced at the names, then at him, and rolled her eyes at his silliness.
"Anyway," his voice filled the quiet room, eyes glancing away to look at the clock, seeing they only had a few minutes till the end of lunch, "I think we did a pretty decent job, we should celebrate getting this project done."
She looked up his taller form in confusion, "Celebrate?"
Jaemin nodded, "Yeah, I'll bring you a snack tomorrow, something sweet, so that you forget about annihilating me for barely carrying this project."
She sent him a scowl in response, "And what makes you think I like sweet things?"
He grinned cheekily, packing away the equipment, "You like me, don't you?"
Y/N was convinced Jaemin had hit his head in the past month, especially with all the shit he was spewing. But she couldn't stop the small smile that lifted the corners of her lips, immediately dropping the second she had realised, and Jaemin's eyes widened at the sight. His heart was going haywire. She had finally smiled in his presence, because of him.
"You really do look cute when you smile," he grinned at her, slinging his bag over his shoulder, looking almost entranced by her, "I'm glad I'm the only one who gets to see it."
She snorts, packing her things away as well, "Well, I'd rather you not smile. It's exhausting."
Jaemin smirks, nodding his head, "Okay, I won't!"
He exaggerates a silly-looking scowl, humming at the same time, "Is that better?"
Y/N lets out a disbelieving scoff, eyeing him in what seemed like amusement, "Somehow... that's much worse."
It had been three days. Three days of Jaemin leaving snacks on her desk like some overly enthusiastic snack fairy with too much free time in the crackhead hours of the morning — throwing coins on snacks she hadn't asked for.
He had brought strawberry pocky the first day (what he would call an abomination in a box), Hello Panda's the next, and today? Banana milk — in this obnoxiously bright yellow carton, with the straw poked in. He called it a "romantic gesture".
Y/N stared at the carton on her desk, the happy face of the banana staring right back into her soul. Her brows had furrowed as Jaemin plopped himself into the seat beside her with his usual beaming aura.
"You're welcome," he said with a grin, chin propped up on his hand as he watched her with hearts in his eyes.
"I don't remember saying thank you," she replied blandly, but her fingers still curled around the carton like a stress ball.
Jaemin tilted his head, nodding in agreement, "I know, but you did drink the last two, so... it seems like you do appreciate the gifts, or me. Or both."
"And it seems like," she echoed with a deadpanned expression, "you're annoying. Unsurprisingly."
"Are you waiting for some kind of an applause?" she continued when he didn't make a move to leave, taking another sip of the banana milk.
Jaemin shrugged, never taking his eyes off of her, even as other students around looked on in confusion, "Yes, actually. I deserve a standing ovation. I had brought you peace offerings three days in a row, that's equivalent to a committed relationship."
"You're clinically insane," she shakes her head, scanning over her notes.
"Clinically sexy, you mean," he corrected, wagging his brows, his voice exaggerated loudly.
She let out a long, exhausted sigh that sounded like it came from the pits of her stomach, the kind of sigh only Jaemin could evoke. However, silence had then settled between them again. This time, it was peaceful.
For once, Jaemin wasn't rambling silly little lines, openly flirting with her, or laughing gratingly loud. Instead, he was sitting there, occasionally stealing glances at her while she pretended not to notice. Then, out of nowhere, the words that had left Jaemin's lips gave her whiplash, paired with how casually he had said them.
"Wanna hang out this weekend?"
Y/N's pen slid across the page in shock, her head turning slowly, and suspiciously, like he had just asked her to help him bury a body, "Hang out?"
Jaemin shrugged, "Just thought we could do something, you know, outside of science experiments and this God-forsaken building."
She stared at him blankly for a moment longer before replying, "I'm busy."
"You don't even know what day I meant," Jaemin pouted, throwing rubber shavings her way, playfully.
He laughed under his breath, leaning back in his seat. "You'll say yes eventually."
"Not likely."
"We'll see."
She did end up saying yes.
When Friday afternoon came rolling in, and he caught up to her outside the school gates with another (peace offering) drink in hand, a grape-flavoured juice, he sent her a hopeful look with his lashes fluttering like the princess he claimed he was.
The weather carried a gentle breeze as the sun formed a subtle halo over the brunette male, making him appear even more angelic than he already was. His dark eyes were softer under the afternoon glow, and his smile felt like spring. Y/N didn't know why things were suddenly changing. Why her thoughts were becoming brighter and warmer in his presence. It was like he had merged into her life as though he had always belonged there, and she couldn't help but to give in.
She rolled her eyes, "Fine. One hour."
Jaemin blinked, surprise etching into his features, "Wait- what?"
"I'll hang out with you," she clarified, crossing her arms and looking off to the side as if she were an older sibling giving into the younger's request, "For an hour. And I'm not doing anything cheesy. If you take me anywhere with fairy lights or those photo booths, I will walk into on-coming traffic."
Jaemin burst into a fit of laughter, barely containing the smile stretching across his face, "You're the one who said yes."
"God," she grumbled, turning to walk ahead, not even waiting for him, "I'm already regretting this."
"No take backs!" He chirped as he caught up to her, grinning like he had won the lottery, "You'll regret it a lot less once you see what I had planned."
She stopped in her tracks, head snapping to him in shock. Not once had she hinted in agreeing to hang out with him, and yet, he had still put in the effort to plan something that wasn't guaranteed. Just because he wanted to make it something special.
"You planned it already?" She asked, eyeing him suspiciously, "And why does that sound like a threat?"
"It's not! It's a promise," he beamed, "And of course I planned it. I knew you were going to agree. I mean, how could you say no to this face?"
He cupped his cheeks and batted his lashes at her. Usually, this would have been something that would instantly make her cringe yet, this time, it was so... Jaemin. So silly and adorably him. It gave her this sense of ease, as though it was alright for her to be just as silly, just as out there as he was. Despite what others may think.
However, Y/N gave him a long, stern look, unimpressed, "You are dangerously close to being punched in the throat."
Jaemin gasped, holding his arms up in defence, "Violence on our first date?"
"It is not a date," she said instantly, her voice a slight screech, feigning a scowl. Her heart was thumping erratically. A date? It was only a month ago when Jaemin had asked to be friends, but the spring-happy leprechaun wouldn't settle on just friends. Not with her.
"Sure it's not," he replied sarcastically, bumping his shoulder into hers. He watched as her teeth bit into the straw of the grape juice, lips puckering as she took a sip. God, he really was down bad.
"So, where exactly are we going?" she asked, interrupting his far from innocent thoughts.
Jaemin's smile twitched, internally cursing himself for getting carried away like that, "Somewhere where you can't walk into traffic."
She groaned, "Great. I can't escape by death."
Jaemin grinned, tugging at her sleeve lightly, "Nah, you're gonna fall."
"Fall?"
"For me," he replied smugly, wiggling his brows.
She stared at him long enough to make him shift slightly. He should have known corny, cheesy, unoriginal pick-up lines would never work on her, "…I changed my mind. Half an hour."
"I bet you're already falling for me," He continued to tease, gently poking at her sides and snickering at her annoyed expression.
"Keep talking and it'll be ten minutes."
He shut his mouth immediately, but the grin on his face didn't fade for even a second. Of course it wouldn't.
He had led her further down the quiet streets just beyond the school, the buzz of the busy roads echoing behind them. Suddenly, he turned into a narrow, sketchy pathway covered by dark walls and patched up windows.
"Okay, where the hell are we going?"
"You'll see, just trust me," Jaemin chirped, hopping over a puddle with the appearance of someone who probably believed in elves and the tooth fairy.
Y/N eyed the side of his face, as if analysing him, "You're like a golden retriever, and I don't mean that in a good way," she said, her tone dry, "Do you have this much energy even when you're in bed?"
Jaemin didn't miss a second, his lips curling into a smirk, "Depends who's in bed with me."
Y/N blinked, nearly choking on the last bit of juice, "You're disgusting."
"What?" he asked innocently, raising both hands in mock surrender, "You asked."
"And shameless," she muttered.
"And you're blushing," he shot back smugly.
She turned away quickly, muttering curses under her breath. The worst part was that he wasn't wrong… she was blushing.
However, when the path opened up to a skatepark, she was about to turn and walk in the opposite direction, until she saw a building to the right.
It was a planetarium, nestled at the far end of the park, hidden behind torn fences and overgrown trees, clearly abandoned. The soft, spring breeze weaved through the cracked windows and rustling dead leaves across the ground, making her anxious. It was silent, apart from the sharp creak of the iron gate as Jaemin kicked it open dramatically, letting her enter first.
"You're trespassing...," Y/N said nervously, yet still stepped past the gate.
"We are," Jaemin corrected, grinning as he didn't bother to shut the gate behind them, "You agreed to this, remember?"
She rolled her eyes, "I was coerced by grape juice."
Inside the planetarium was dark, where glimpses of sunlight flickered through the cracks of the walls. The air was coated in dust and old wood, the scent sharp in her throat — particles floated just like the glimmer of stars on the ceiling. The projector had sat in the centre, the lens still intact despite it rusting and coated in crumbling leaves and spider webs. But there was something almost... magical about this place, as though it carried many stories — a history.
"I used to come here a lot as a child," Jaemin said, his voice softer now, with a hint of nostalgia, "My dad used to work nearby, and he would take me after school sometimes. I mean... I loved the stars, it always intrigued me. I would just lie down right here and pretend they were real."
He lays down right in the middle of the dome, a softer, more pained smile gracing his lips as he saw the now faded stars that didn't seem to hold the same wonder it used to, "There was something so..."
"Magical," she voiced out her earlier thoughts, hesitantly laying down next to him.
He glanced over to see her looking up at the dimmed ceiling, the setting sun catching across her soft, pretty features, illuminating the curve of her cheekbone and the plushness of her lips. She looked oddly beautiful here, even in this run-down, shabby space. It was like she brought that same wonder back with just her presence alone.
"So this was your idea of a perfect date?" she asked finally, but her voice was gentle, tugging at his heartstrings.
"It's peaceful and there are no fairy lights in sight," he teased, "Besides, you'll ruin my date rating if you start judging my choices."
They lay in silence for a while, staring up at a ceiling that once reflected galaxies. Now, the real stars peeked through the gaps as the sun had finally set, fragmented and imperfect, fitting in like puzzle pieces against the fabricated lights.
"You asked me before if I ever stop smiling," Jaemin says, quietly, his eyes locked on the ceiling. He lies still under the watching gaze of the fading stars, "Just... when no one is around."
He lets out a breath that almost sounds like a bitter laugh, not reaching the crinkles of his eyes, "I think somewhere along the line, I decided that being the overly positive guy was who I was meant to be. If I kept people distracted by this- this image, no one would look close enough to see all the fragmented pieces. I wouldn't be a burden to others."
Y/N said nothing, biting her bottom lip.
"Sometimes it feels like… if I were to drop this act, people wouldn't know what to do with me," He turns his head slightly towards her, letting out a dry chuckle, "That I would be a handful. I'd come with all the baggage that overwhelms them."
Y/N felt her eyes glaze with tears, the brittle air pressing against her chest that made it feel almost suffocating. She hated how much she related to those words alone.
She shifts slightly on the cold floor, trying to make her voice sound neutral, "That sounds exhausting."
"I guess it is," Jaemin admits.
"I do understand, though," she responds, glancing at him, "With keeping up that image."
Her voice doesn't waver, but it had always been hard for her to be vulnerable as she never had the chance to with her own family, "It's weird. One day, conversation is easy, people are approachable and..."
He listens, his brows furrowing in focus.
"Being strong for everyone else meant having to lose a part of myself," She exhales shakily, her nails digging crescents into her palms, "And after a while, I stopped feeling like me. Now, it's like I'm just a shell and pushing people away is easier. You don't get hurt again."
Jaemin's fingers inch closer to her, his knuckles brushing along her hand and, when her pinky hooks around his, he can't help but to smile softly.
"Even so... I don't hate being around people," she whispers, "I don't hate being around you."
He feels his heart skip a beat and his eyes widen slightly when her soft gaze meets his. It was like he got a glimpse into the warmth beneath the grumbling girl, the gentle side of her that hid behind the protective wall. Her usual glaring, intense gaze was now soft and sweet, pupils big as they reflected the starry sky in them, drawing him in like a moth to a flame.
Jaemin quickly snaps his head away, bringing a hand over his mouth, hiding his flustered smile, "This is dangerous," he mumbles to himself. Every moment he spent with her was making it harder for him to be normal, not with his body getting hot, and her pretty eyes that watched him curiously.
"What's dangerous?" She asks, confused.
"You, Y/N," he breathes, meeting her gaze again, "you don't understand just how gorgeous you are, how you look at me like that and... the fact that you really are someone so warm and funny and smart. And there is so much more to you that I-"
He chuckled nervously, interlocking his hand with hers more boldly, "I love that you're different. That you trusted me enough to share a piece of yourself. I also want to be someone who would take away all the burdens you've been carrying. To help fill your cup with you, because you're perfect to me, and I want you to see that too."
"But why? You barely know me," she asked quietly.
"Because it's you. But also... do we even need a reason? I just want to."
Her heart beats loud in her ears and tears finally fall, startling Jaemin as he began to panic, worried he may have overstepped in some way. However, it felt like those were words she needed to hear, even if it were just scratching the surface of understanding her, and her understanding him. It felt like she had finally met someone who could. Who would try.
"Jaemin," she calls out to him, and he blinks in response just as she leans in before she could think. Before she could stop herself.
Y/N's lips press to his softly. It was hesitant and shy, but it felt right. Slowly, her fingers cup his jaw and Jaemin pauses. He had waited for this moment, waited for when he could finally get through the protective wall she built around herself. She pulls away and he immediately pulls her back in.
When her lips meet his again, it's messier, with her running her fingers through his hair, parting her lips to mould with his. He feels the urgency in her hands, and he lets out a quiet groan when she climbs onto his lap, knees on either side of his hips, yet never breaking the kiss.
Jaemin's palms settle at her waist, rubbing slow circles on her skin. He tries to control the pace, kissing her back slower, patiently, as he pulls away to catch his breath, tucking her hair behind her ears.
"Let me-" his voice is breathy and hoarse; chest heaving, "Let me take my time with you, Y/N. Please."
When her eyes search his, he continues with a softer tone, "You deserve as much."
She leans forward again, kissing him slow.
His hands curl over the back of her neck, the other still cupping her waist, pulling her in a little closer. It feels different this time, gentle and tender. Their mouths move quietly under the witness of the stars, like they're both trying to memorise what the other feels like.
Jaemin sighs softly against her lips when she subtly grinds against him, and he rests his forehead against hers.
"You don't have to rush anything with me, Y/N," he murmurs, "I'm not going anywhere."
"But I want this," she bites her lip, looking down at him. And that's all it takes for him to want to give in and give her everything she wants.
Jaemin's lips trail to her jaw, then down her neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses that make her heart flutter wildly. She whispers his name and he flips their positions so that she was under him now. His body hovers just above hers, brushing strands of her hair from her face.
He kisses her again, slowly at first, but the kiss deepens with each second. His hands slip beneath her soft jumper, fingers tracing along her waist and brushing just under the curve of her breast.
She arches into his touch when he cups her bra-clad breast, thumb swiping over her nipple. Her skin was warm and soft, paired with her sweet gasps, and he couldn't hold back any longer, pushing the jumper off of her.
"How could someone be so beautiful," he breathes out, his soft eyes delicately tracing over her frame as the subtle light of the moon hugged her skin. Her cheeks were flushed at the way he looked at her and, before she could feel any more shy, he connected his lips with hers again; tongue tracing the seam whilst his hands slipped under the lace, massaging her supple mounds.
Y/N tugged at his own hoodie, whining softly against his lips, to which he chuckled, sitting back to pull it off of him, not forgetting to place the clothing under her when he realised she was laying on the icy marble floor. Her cold, slender fingers cupped his jaw, trailing down his chest. It all felt unreal to the both of them; this moment under the stars. It was as though, under the moonlight, was her world. A glimpse into her inner warmth.
Soon, her jeans followed, his warm breath fanning against her inner thighs as his lips ghosted over the skin. He pressed gentle kisses slowly up, thumb finally grazing over her clothed clit which elicited a quiet moan from her. The moment he tugged her panties to the side, she knew what was coming and immediately gripped onto his hair in anticipation.
Jaemin's tongue licked a thick stripe up her folds and she shuddered. But he didn't stop there, picking up the pace. His humming against her had her cheeks flush. His warm breath and tongue guided her down the path towards ecstasy, hands pinning her thighs against his sprawled out hoodie. Each tug at the locks of his hair and the soft whines that left her lips, had Jaemin's control slip further, subtly grinding against the floor to find some sort of friction.
Y/N couldn't take it any more. Not his wet tongue that elicited lewd sounds from her lips, creating an erotic melody that layered with his eager licks and groans, paired with the squelching sounds as he finally pushed his fingers into her. Her eyes blurred as she stared at the stars, glimmering as he brought her to the edge. His fingers curled perfectly inside her, pressing against a bundle that made the thread snap, finally coming and coating his fingers with her release.
The sound he made when she shuddered beneath him; eyes rolling back, was so pretty, so guttural, she swore she could have come again right there and then.
"You're perfect, baby," he kissed the inside of her thigh before crawling up her writhing body, pressing another kiss to the corner of her mouth, "We don't have to go all the way tonight, if you don't want to."
Immediately, she shook her head, pulling him in for a lazy kiss, "Jaemin... I want to. I'm sure."
He swore he felt his cock twitch at that, but he shook it off, sitting back on the heels of his feet as he unbuttoned his jeans, kicking it off along with his boxers. But he cursed at himself when the realisation dawned on him, "I-I'm sorry, baby. I don't have a condom. I mean... I wasn't really expecting anything to come out of tonight." He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, though she almost didn't hear him, too entranced by the size of him, needing to shake herself out of it.
"If you're okay with not using one, I'm okay with it too," she said without hesitation, "I'm on the pill and... Well, I can get the morning after-"
His soft chuckle had cut her words short, "You want me that bad, huh? Aren't you the same woman who was so eager to get rid of me earlier?"
Y/N grumbles under her breath, "Just shut up. Are you going to sleep with me or what? It's getting cold."
Jaemin shakes his head in amusement, hovering over her. The way he looks at her has her heart race; the affection that he doesn't bother to hide, the way his eyes are constantly flicking over her features as if etching them into memory, and the way he isn't quick with claiming her, always making sure she's okay and giving her time to back out. Slowly, she reaches up, cupping his jaw, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip.
"Fuck... do you know what you do to me?" He breathes out, nuzzling into her touch and placing a kiss to the inside of her hand.
Then, he slides his member through her folds, pushing into her inch by inch, pausing every time her brows furrow even slightly. Even when it was torturous for him, he put her first, waiting until the corners of her lips relaxed, and the space between her brows didn't crease.
Finally, when he was fully sheathed inside, and she had relaxed around him, he started to move, picking up the pace a little at a time, her sounds playing as the guide. She was perfect, fitting around him like a glove, wrapping her legs over his hips, rocking into him to feel him deeper, as if he wasn't close enough for her.
Jaemin rested his forehead against hers, his groans synchronised with her pretty moans, "God..." he breathed out, letting his hand cup her waist, fingers pressed into her dewy skin as he grinded into her.
Y/N grabbed onto whatever she could, moving to nestle into his neck, her warm breath and plush lips brushing over his pulse point, "Y-yes, Jaemin...," her nails dug into his back, toes curling at every rock of his hips, every push of his dick into her, had the stars on the ceiling feel brighter and all-consuming, "F-fuck."
Jaemin couldn't handle it, couldn't prolong her release any longer. He grabbed onto her thighs, pushing them out and up to angle his thrusts better. Then, he grabbed onto her wrists, pulling them towards him, sitting back on the balls of his feet as he picked up the pace, the sounds of skin slapping against skin was so dirty under the witness of the gleaming moonlight.
Her head rolled back, mouth agape as deep, throaty sounds escaped her. The moment she began to shudder, he knew he had made her come a second time, his own release following right after.
Jaemin collapsed on top of her, his large frame burying her in warmth as she let out a lazy giggle, snuggling into him, "That was..."
"Amazing? I know."
She smacked his shoulder playfully, "You're so cocky. For all you know, I could have been about to say that it was mediocre, or abysmal, or-"
"Or the hottest thing ever," Jaemin pressed a kiss under her jaw, rolling off of her to grab the sleeve of his hoodie that still nestled under her figure, wiping away at the inside of her thighs.
Just then, a flashlight peeked through the hallway just outside the door. Immediately, the pair glanced at each other, Jaemin muttered a loud 'shit', before quickly slipping on his boxers and jeans, and she chucked his hoodie at him, throwing her own clothes back on — barely.
"We gotta go, now," Jaemin grabbed at her wrist before she could put her jeans and shoes on, darting out the back just as the security guard opened the door, yelling a 'who's there?'
As soon as they made it out of the planetarium and into the chilly night air, out of breath and barely able to stand up straight, Jaemin and Y/N let out a chuckle that sounded more like relief, finally bursting into a fit of laughter, barely able to keep their balance. She used that time to slip on her jeans and shoes, elbowing Jaemin, "We almost got arrested. You sure this is still a good date spot?"
Jaemin raised an amused brow at her, catching his breath after laughing, shrugging, "I just bagged the most perfect, smartest, and most unattainable woman in there. I'd say it's the date spot."
Y/N rolled her eyes, interlocking her fingers with his as she led him back onto the main street, "You better not bring anyone but me."
Jaemin stopped in his tracks, turning her around to face him as he held onto both of her hands, his face serious, "Of course. It's only ever been you, Y/N. I know we've only been on just one date and I know I get on your nerves, and that I barely carried any weight on that science project," he let out an embarrassed chuckle, "But I want to be your boyfriend, if you'll let me. Just know that I'll spoil you like crazy, because we both know that I'm the one who is down bad, who is so madly in love I can't think straight in your presence. I know it's only been a short while, but sometimes it just clicks and it clicked with you, Y/N. It clicked perfectly."
She couldn't stifle a wide smile, her eyes glazing over as she nodded eagerly, squeezing his hands tightly, "I can't say it's love just yet I... I need time, but I do like you, a lot and, I want to give us a try. I'll let you be my boyfriend."
Jaemin didn't realise he was holding his breath, letting out a sigh of relief, "I'm not expecting you to feel anything more than that, Y/N. That's more than enough for me, more than I can ask for or feel worthy of."
She tutted at him, sending him a playfully annoyed expression, "You're worthy of a lot more than you give yourself credit for, Jaemin."
6 months later...
"Haechan, don't be a brat, I told you to put the candles on the candle holders before placing them on the cake," Y/N scowled at the male, who only shrugged in response.
"You really don't need candle holders for this, he'll blow the candles out in like... two seconds. No wax will drip on the cake," He swiped his finger over the frosting, licking it off which had her smack his shoulder.
Renjun let out a frustrated sigh at their usual bickering, shoving Haechan to the side and placing the candles on the toppers, "Stop being difficult, Haechan. This isn't your event."
Haechan grumbled, crossing his arms as he leant against the fridge, "You guys need to get a DNA test, it's crazy how similar you both are."
Chenle, who was still wearing sunglasses indoors, peers up from his phone after watching the tracking map, seeing Jaemin's icon pulling up to the apartment, "Guys, he's almost here, stop fighting."
Y/N quickly scrambles to grab the cake, causing Renjun to whine, "Careful, this will all go to waste if you drop it!"
She sticks her tongue out at him, slipping the cake into her hands as she moves to stand in front of the door, "Okay, as soon as you hear the elevator, light the candles. Don't mess this up!"
Haechan grabs the lighter from the counter, standing next to her as he angles it just above the first candle, "Yes, ma'am. Wouldn't want the leader of the underworld to beat my ass."
She sends him a glare, kicking his leg which causes him to yelp, "I am not Hades!"
"Well, Hades would have kicked my leg too!"
"Because you deserved it!"
Chenle, who was now standing in front of the door, jumps in surprise when he hears the elevator ding, "Guys, shut up, he's here!"
Haechan, about to clap back at her, quickly lights the candles, struggling with the last one until it finally burns a flame into the thread just in time for the front door to open. Renjun could have sworn he almost had a heart attack from the way their whole surprise could have gone bust.
As soon as Jaemin steps inside, the quartet broke into song, singing happy birthday to the male who never would have expected a surprise from the people who meant the most to him. A smile tugged at his lips, his toothy grin wide as he finally met the gaze of the most beautiful woman in his eyes. He knew it was her idea, that she brought them here for him, even though it had taken a while for them to all grow close.
When the song ends, Jaemin's eyes flutter closed to make his wish, blowing out the candles, causing everyone to cheer. Haechan ruffles Jaemin's hair, Chenle claps his back, and Renjun gives him a curt nod and birthday wishes, taking the cake from Y/N's hands before the three of them move to the living room, preparing to hand him the presents.
Jaemin doesn't stop smiling at her, pulling her into a tight hug, his nose nestling into her hair, "Thank you for organising all of this, Y/N... It means the world."
She chuckles, "Of course, I knew how much it would mean to you. I'm just surprised I could get everything ready in time, knowing how easily the four of us bicker."
Jaemin chuckled, pulling back to meet her gaze, "Am I the luckiest man ever? I think I am."
She snorts, rolling her eyes, "You're so annoying. This is why I love you."
Jaemin paused, his eyes widening slightly as the words finally registered, "You..."
When she realised why he had been shocked, she shakes her head in amusement, pulling him in for a sweet kiss, nipping at his bottom lip as she pulled back, "I love you, Jaemin. I was just waiting for the right time to say it."
The three men hollered from the living room, but Jaemin let those sounds drown out, cupping her cheeks with the palms of his hands as he pulled her back in for another kiss, parting his lips against hers, tugging at the plush skin as he smiled into her mouth, "I love you too, Y/N."
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.
SYNOPSIS: lee haechan ー beloved retired prosecutor ruins his own career with his big mouth. as his lawyer, you have to save his career, or what's left of it, and you rock his world while trying to do so.
PAIRING: tv personality!haechan x female lawyer!reader
GENRE: acquaintances to strangers to lovers, humour, smut.
WORD COUNT: 16.4k
CONTAINS: appearance of other idols. love triangle?? but not really. mentions of sensitive topics but none involve the main characters directly. haechan gets called both haechan and donghyuck. one bad and possibly offensive joke. banter, humour, smut, jealousy, lots of dialogue. sub!haechan, oral (male receiving), overstimulation, praise and degradation kink, nipple play, unprotected penetrative sex, riding, choking. author's note at the end.
inspired by michael jackson's song you rock my world.
“If it’s morning for you, good morning,” Haechan’s ears ring as he watches the flat TV screen in his living room, “If it’s night, then, goodnight! And remember…”
“If you don’t see me again, have a nice life!” Haechan repeats the words of the host. His words. Words that he, himself came up with. His punchline — which was stolen by the crusty rat who took his place, who managed to steal from him even the intonation as he spoke the words.
Haechan scoffs, turning the TV off, and throwing his slippers away, not caring where they land.
He made a colossal mistake, and he’d like to shirk his way out of it easily by saying it wasn’t him. The only problem? He said it on television, everyone has seen his stupid face plastered on their TV’s as he possibly fumbled his career forever.
But how was he supposed to know people don’t have a sense of humour? Right after it slipped past his lips, his bosses warned him about the repercussions of such a joke, and even if they thought the joke was great and howled with laughter while slapping him on his back repeatedly, the audience didn’t appreciate it.
He sits back on his disgustingly big couch, and rewinds what happened that one night.
He told his usual jokes, everyone laughed, the live band used the drums and trumpets for effect. And then, just because he felt very brave and his ego was skyrocketing after looking at the amused faces in the audience, he thought it would be a good idea to add one last joke — instead of his usual concluding line for the end of the night.
“And since this was a topic tonight… before I get to wish you a good night,” He announced, grin stretching from ear to ear, showing his pearly white teeth — a smile everyone loves or, better said, used to love, “I got one last joke about abortion that never gets old… just like the baby…”
Crickets. No one laughed, not even a sound coming from the live band — not even the disappointed sound of the trumpet at his flopping joke.
He cringes remembering how he ended the night, the phone calls from his producers and bosses, and them wishing him the whole thing wouldn’t escalate into something bigger.
Except, it did escalate.
His amazing rating dropped and, to put it simply, he got called in the office and put on unpaid leave until things settled and waters calmed down.
And even after being put on leave, people still came for his head. Women, activists, whole communities fuelled the online debates, criticism, and hate train over his words and actions. He saw his life being desiccated, under a magnifying glass for everyone to judge and study thoroughly, trying to find past mistakes that could be the final nail in his coffin, and which could erase him from being in the public eye.
Lee Donghyuck, who managed to work hard and make a name for himself. Lee Donghyuck, who moved on from his passion and dream job, leaving his job as a prosecutor for a better and, what he was hoping to be, a calmer future.
Lee Donghyuck, the almighty county prosecutor left his life behind after audiences loved his presence and made him famous, turned into his television persona — Lee Haechan — and the audiences stepped on him like a disgusting cockroach, ready to get discarded of him, who he once was, and what he once represented.
And worst of all, he got a call asking him to come into office tomorrow — and Haechan knows that’s not a good sign for him.
You know who Haechan is. Of course you do, whoever claims not to know who he is is either lying or has been living under a rock for the past couple of years.
He used to be a very diligent prosecutor, who took his job seriously and did his best trying to catch bad guys and getting them convicted for the longest times for their heinous crimes. He used to be one of the best in his field, of the highest competence, so much that lawyers already knew they were on thin ice trying to fight him in court, their clients most likely ending up in jail.
He had an innate talent at what he was doing, and an honest love for his profession — so much that people could just tell he lived and breathed to be a prosecutor. This passion opened a door for him — in television this time.
There used to be this one program, with people dropping by either in person or with a phone call, and they brought up their legal battles asking for advice — all televised. And Haechan was the one expert the producers called most of the times.
Phone calls turned into physical appearances at the studio, where he interacted with the audience. He walked in the studio like he owned the entire planet. Expensive suits, expensive leather shoes, Rolex and jewellery adorned his wrists. He had a glint in his eyes, one that could make anyone fall for his charms.
He was cocky, and for a good reason. He knew just how good he was at his job and, quite frankly, at everything in his life. And although his cockiness might have rubbed some people the wrong way — a handful of people out of an ocean of amazed and satisfied audiences — Haechan was very talented with his charms. He talked to people like he was close to them, like they were long lost friends. He gave them pieces of advice that one would have given to the people you only cared about the most, or to real clients. Not some random person on a TV show.
He connected with the people, and everyone loved him. He became a legend, well known, well liked — and viewer rates skyrocketed.
So much that they gave him his own night show. That’s when he became Lee Haechan — but you’ve known him for far longer than you’d like to admit.
You’ve known him from when he was Lee Donghyuck, a simple student. He studied law and was an insufferable presence in your classes. Your opinions clashed, but then you united against people who had opinions that not only were different than yours, but also wrong. It’s like you were allowed to fight each other, but the moment someone else tried to intervene or take either one of your places, you teamed up to fight back.
You can’t really say you were total strangers to each other. You acknowledged each other, and each other’s talent at what you were doing. Back then, you thought his presence was aggravating, with his usual talent at picking up fights with you and bickering during debates and classes, and you swear he had a sick glint of satisfaction in his eyes every time he saw you getting worked up over him contradicting you.
You got to work on some projects together, and he was close to some people from your small circle of friends. When you’re a law student, there’s not much time you can spend relaxing or going on dates, so the friends you make in your first year are basically the ones you’re stuck with. You heard stories, whispers, but not once did you consider Donghyuck more than what he was — a friend of a friend, who liked driving you insane with every chance he got.
Everyone liked him, got along with him well, yet you kept your distance — mainly because you couldn’t stand his cockiness when he was so satisfied with his driving you up the wall, or when he knew he was right and that he won an argument or debate.
And then your studies ended, and he climbed the success ladder with big and quick steps, while you liked taking your time.
You focused on your career, and you liked gloating that your success rate was almost impeccable. Sure, the amount of work load couldn’t compare to what Donghyuck had to work with as a prosecutor, but you never diminished your efforts and your talent.
For this exact reason, you picked up doing pro bono work every chance you got — being driven by the thought that you could do your part and help people out, with this small aspect at least, and it became an important part of your life, one that helped you stay grounded.
After reminiscing the past, and knowing what’s to come in the next weeks, it boosts your confidence and makes you completely satisfied with yourself, like nothing — and no one — can take you down.
Which is exactly why the drive to the studio feels extremely exciting, like your skin is tingling to get to work — this being the first time you work on this type of case.
Your heels clink on the shiny floors as you make your way towards the conference room, where your bosses and your client are waiting for you to make an appearance.
And with a few minutes left to spare before your meeting starts, you stall on the hallways of the headquarters, because you hate showing up earlier — or later, for that matter — for appointments. You like being very precise, organised in every little aspect of your life because, after all, these are the only moments you try to stay away from unpredictability.
“Oh, hi!” You’re snatched out of your thoughts as you look at your watch. Two more minutes left before going in. “Is there a reason you’re not going in?” Johnny Suh, one of your bosses, smiles while looking at you, all confused.
You shrug, taking a sip from your coffee, “Still two minutes left,”
He shakes his head like he doesn’t take you seriously, and the sly smile on his features makes you understand he really isn’t, “Don’t be silly,” He gestures for you to walk towards the door, huge hand barely touching your tricep respectfully in order to guide you in, “He’s already here,”
He opens the door for you, and you give him a small smile, complying with his request to go in. He’s your boss, after all.
“I told you that’s not it! I didn’t mean it that way, I was jus-” You recognise the voice, high in pitch with frustration, and he stops his rambling when he turns his head to look at who’s walking inside the conference room.
“Y/n?” He’s in disbelief, and a small crease forms in between his eyebrows.
“You two know each other?” Johnny asks, sitting down at the huge table, “Of course you do! I forgot you used to work in the same field,” He looks over a few papers as he takes his blazer off, “Then there’s no need for formal introductions, right?”
You take your seat right across from where Donghyuck is sitting, and you watch as he pouts with confusion while looking at you. You smile, a kind of devious and calm smile he’s never seen on your face before — and it almost creeps him out.
“What are you doin’ here?” He asks you, leaning in over the table as if your answer is meant to be a secret, for his ears only. As if the room isn’t filled with producers and executives.
“Y/n is your lawyer,” Another executive speaks up before Johnny can ease Donghyuck into it.
You’re impressed by the straightforwardness, realising that the sooner the bandaid gets ripped off, the better for everyone.
“My what?!” Donghyuck’s voice is high in pitch, proving to you that his usual exaggerating persona from the past hasn’t changed a bit. “I don’t need a lawyer,”
“Yet,” the CFO intervenes, and Donghyuck’s head snaps to the side to look at her.
His eyebrows furrow while taking his sweet moment trying to understand what is going on.
“I’m sorry but-” He snakes his head incredulously, his gaze moving between your figure and Johnny’s, “Am I being sued for something?”
“Not yet,” The CFO corrects him, and judging by the crease between Donghyuck’s eyebrows, you know he’s getting frustrated.
“But we can’t take chances on this, Haechan,” Johnny speaks up, “We know that your image is being taunted right now, and that people are very much against you,” He explains, like it should be obvious to Donghyuck that things aren’t going to calm down so easily and so soon. “Shall anything happen, Y/n’s here to assist you the best she can while also trying to work on your public image and clear your name,”
“Shall anything happen,” Donghyuck snaps, “I can represent myself very well, you all know this already,”
You look at him, now that you have the proper opportunity to see him in real time, and not on a screen. It’s been so long since you last saw him in person, you’re almost in owe at how his features remained the same, yet they became bolder, stronger, more contoured. He matured, and it brought a glow to him that you never imagined possible — not to his annoying face, anyway.
Eyes have become fiercer, like they’ve seen so many things. His jaw is visibly more defined, stronger, and when it sets with annoyance it shows you just how much he’s changed. You saw this exact jaw so many times in the past, and with every little sign of contradiction coming from someone else against him, he acted the same — jaw setting when upset, tongue in his cheek when he was taking it lightheartedly.
You look at his hands, that have also changed over time. Veins are more prominent under his tanned, honey-like skin, jewellery now adorning his wrist and fingers with beautiful golden rings and bracelets complimenting his skin tone.
It’s like he hasn’t changed when it comes to his behaviour, but physically he’s become something nearly out of this world — as much as you hate to admit it. Never in a thousand years were you thinking you’d ever be admitting to yourself how good-looking he’s gotten, and certainly you don’t plan to share your thought with anyone else. You guess you’ll have to take this secret to your grave, especially because you know that if your thoughts made it to his ears, you’d never know the end of it.
“Haechan,” Another executive calls his name, as a warning. “This is Y/n’s job, not yours. I think you’ve done enough, ”
Donghyuck turns around to look at you, straight in the eye. Everything the execs are telling him, all the instructions and pieces of advice they’re directing his way, you know he’s not listening. He’s looking at you like he’s ready to take a bite out of you, and if you didn’t already know him and his ways you’d be afraid right now.
Instead, you pucker your lips trying to mask your smile, trying to keep a professional façade in front of everyone.
What is he so worked up for, anyway? You ask yourself. No one said he’s not capable of representing himself, but you were literally hired for this kind of matters, and it’s ironic that he’s your very first client since becoming a corporate lawyer.
You’re fairly certain Donghyuck has paid no attention to anything going on during this meeting, so you already know you’ll have to pay extra attention to everything he does until everything calms down.
As the meeting comes to an end, and everyone gets up to leave, Donghyuck doesn’t move — doesn’t even bid anyone goodbye as they exit the conference room.
It’s just the two of you now, and you look at him as he watches every single movement of yours. The way you click on your retractable pen before putting it away in your tiny and fancy pencil case; the way you pile your files before putting them back inside your shoulder bag.
“Why are you here?” He rasps, still not relaxing in his seat. His elbows seem to be glued to the table as he keeps his fingers intertwined, not letting emotions betray him. Or so he hopes, because you know him pretty well to know he’s pissed by your presence.
“Have you not been paying attention?” You mock him, raising your eyebrows at him, “I’m the corporate lawyer,”
He huffs a mocking breath, rolling his eyes at you before clicking his tongue, “I don’t need a lawyer,”
You sigh, suddenly at your limit after hearing him going on like a broken record, “You don’t. Yet.” You snatch your bag away from the table, gracefully placing it on your shoulder — albeit its heaviness, “You’re a fool if you think I’m here for you, though.”
“What?” He barks, not able to refrain anymore. He has so much pent up rage from the past few weeks that he’s been dying to let out, and you’re doing your best to make him snap. Just like the old days. “What does that even mean?”
“I thought you were smarter than this,” You reply, but it comes out more as a question dripping with mockery, and it has him pushing his tongue in the inside of his cheek, “I’m a corporate lawyer, which means that I’m protecting their interests and their image, not yours. I’m sure you already know how that works… When you get in trouble, they also do,” You remind him, and you’re not even sure why you have to go through this with him right now — he’s supposed to know all this stuff already.
“I need to go now,” You announce, finally turning your back to him, “We’ll keep in touch,”
There’s a gram of satisfaction jubilating inside your body, and you can’t help the smirk that takes over your features as you leave him behind, knowing his ego and pride are now sore.
Haechan’s ears pick up a muffled sound, but he’s still too tired to care. He’s been home for a while, still on a leave, and he hasn’t seen you ever since you left the office with that arrogance that makes him want to climb walls.
The muffled sound becomes clearer, like someone properly banging on his door, and he waits a few more moments praying that whoever is at his door will soon go away. He’s not expecting anyone, he’s sure security downstairs didn’t let anyone get to his door, yet the knocking is incessant — and it gets on his nerves.
His barefoot steps thud as he makes his way, dizzy and sleepy, towards the front door. He looks through the peephole before letting out a groan, but unlocks the door nonetheless.
“Why are you here?” He locks the door after you, and you kick your heels off, out of politeness, walking down his entry hallway towards his living room.
He lives in one of those luxurious buildings — and you didn’t expect less coming from a former prosecutor who made a fortune out of his job, and a fortune more from his new job in television. His living room has you fighting the urge to let out a low whistle in appreciation, and you throw a quick glance around trying not to be too obvious with your curiosity. Everything is tidy; the decor is neat, showing his personal taste with every item of eclectic furniture and memorabilia, and the place smells like him.
You turn around on your heels, facing him once again, “You didn’t pick up my calls,” You explain, looking him up and down.
He snickers as he looks for his glasses around the living room. His hair is ruffled, his voice is raspy, and he’s still in his pyjama shorts — you definitely snatched him out of bed.
He sits on the couch, placing his glassed on the bridge of his nose before looking at you, “I don’t pick up calls from unknown callers,” He shrugs, getting more comfortable in his seat, but not offering you to take a sit.
Not that you would need him to offer you anything, not even an invitation. But because you’re in a hurry, you decide to just stand a few feet away from him.
“I told you we’d keep in touch,” You bark, furrowing your eyebrows at him, “So didn’t you think that maybe, just maybe, your lawyer is the one calling?”
He shrugs, muffling a yawn, “You could have sent me an email,”
“I did,” Your reply is dry, and you see him avoiding your gaze. “Go get ready, we’re going out,”
“Oh?” He squeals delighted, “Like a date?” He quips, grinning ear to ear, but stands up nonetheless.
You roll your eyes at him, “Just dress nicely,”
“Where are you taking me? I’m not a brunch person, I prefer candlelit dinners, you kn-” He’s interrupted by your steps, following him to his dressing room. “What are you doing?”
You let out the fakest, most mocking sound of endearment while looking at him and at how he keeps his hands over his clothed chest, as if you could see through his t-shirt.
“I didn’t realise you are a prude,” You mock him, looking at the enormous dressing room. “Go ahead, it’s not like I haven’t seen a man’s bare torso before,” You instruct him, and you can’t help but look at how an entire dresser is full of expensive suits and shirts made of Egyptian cotton. You suppress the need to let out a low whistle for the second time today, “I need you to look impeccable, I know the press is still after you. They can’t catch you lacking,”
He hums, and you’re sure he didn’t pay attention to what you just told him. That, or he just doesn’t care if he’s caught dressing like a homeless person. But it would be disastrous to his image, especially because most of his public appearances have been nothing short of perfect — and dressing badly right now could start discourse around press, and around everyone actively being against him.
You see him pulling his white t-shirt off his back, tossing it on the loveseat in the corner of the room.
Your eyes fall on his V line, out of instinct. It’s defined, it travels down to the waistband of his pyjama shorts, that are hanging dangerously low on his hips, and you feel like you can’t take your eyes off of him. Like there’s a magnetic force that doesn’t allow you to look away from him — and the same force has your eyes travelling across the waistband, gaze shifting to the happy trail on his lower abdomen.
You gulp, finally taking your eyes off his tanned skin, looking for something more appropriate to gawk at — like the vanity behind you. You turn around as if you didn’t just momentarily lose yourself in the sight of Donghyuck’s bare torso.
If he noticed your gawking, he doesn’t say anything — and you go about your inspecting his vanity while he gets dressed, moaning about you invading his privacy.
You look at the many bottles of perfumes scattered on the vanity, realising just how neat he is even with arranging his cologne and perfume bottles. You pick up a few, smelling them, and you’re instantly slapped by his usual scents — the ones he used back when you were students.
“Excuse me, miss… sorry…” He mumbles while sliding up next to you and into your personal space, snatching the bottle of Diptyque from your grasp and spraying it on his bare chest and, surprisingly, all around himself.
You cough, stepping away from him, and you see how his slim fingers button his shirt up with dexterity.
You shake your head, “Did you not apply deodorant?”
A cocky smirk appears in the corner of his mouth, “I don’t need that,” He licks his lips, “You’ll learn that about me,”
You throw him an incredulous look, “And how would I do that?”
That insufferable cocky smirk makes an appearance once again, and he shakes his head while styling his shirt, “There are a few ways. You’ll see… eventually,”
His cockiness irks you. You liked him better when he was sulking over the fact that you are his lawyer.
You managed to book an important interview for him, one that can straighten his career back to the way it used to be.
He’s going to talk about his old cases, he’s going to talk about all the times he helped people struggling with legal matters. He’s going to bring back all the good he’s done to society, and you’re sure that will stop the online hate train he’s still being the victim of.
You explain everything to him, you line the whole plan down for him to understand, to know what he should expect from the interview. Given that today is going to be just about getting a new suit for the interview, you think he needs to have enough time to mull over his thoughts and possible answers involving the topics about his past.
You also made sure they wouldn’t bring up the recent controversy — you made a clear script of topics to be addressed, you’ve made it clear to the producers. And you think this is the perfect opportunity for him to clear his name, save his career, and dodge any more criticism from the public. That, and the fact you know the editor working on said program, so it’s going to be easy to have everything under control.
“As always,” You start, touching the collar of his shirt, styling it on his nape as he looks at himself in the big mirror, and your fingers comb through the strands of hair that are getting longer, “Don’t talk to the press. Ignore them, I know you have a big prosecuting mouth, but try your best not to make this even worse,”
Your words irk Donghyuck, who follows after you as you stand by his door, putting your heels back on before heading outside.
You’re acting like he’s an idiot who runs his mouth. Like he doesn’t know what he has to do now that he’s walking on thin ice, and he wants to remind you that he’s been around the press more than you have.
“Stop bossing me around,” He rasps as he locks his front door, and you can tell that he’s getting worked up, by the way he’s pouting while talking. You walk ahead of him, going towards the lifts, “You show up to my place, dictating orders that I have to follow because you’re… my lawyer,” He barks, and it comes out more as a question, “You think you know best, but I’m not your puppy! I’m not following you around!”
You stop in your tracks, and he nearly slams into your back as he doesn’t catch your pausing. You turn around, pouting at him.
“I’m not asking you to follow me around, Donghyuck,” You mock him, posing and looking up at him, “You’re the one literally choosing to walk behind me, puppy boy,” You point your head at him, and you grab his cheeks with your free hand, squishing them together to make him pout, “You’re my puppy because you genuinely want to,”
You turn around, heels clinking on the marbled floors of the hallways as you make your way towards the lifts once again, “Ya comin’?” You ask him without halting your steps.
Donghyuck stays still for a moment, right as and where you left him. He looks at the way you sway your hips as you walk down the hallway, and he feels like the collar of his shirt is strangling him. He’s very confident about what he said about not needing deodorant, but he didn’t think you’d have him in the palm of your hand, talking down to him and making him sweat.
He clears his throat, choosing to stay silent as he follows you, and the thought that he is your puppy is starting to be very convincing inside his brain.
When interview day arrives, Donghyuck walks inside the studio like he owns the place — his usual confidence overflowing and becoming obvious even to the blind.
You pull him by the sleeve. “Tone your ego down,” You whisper through your teeth, for him to hear, “Be humble,”
“I am humble,” He looks down at you, the proximity of your bodies making his minty breath fan down on your face. “Imagine just how insufferable I am when I don’t have to walk on glass,”
“Oh,” You push at his chest, taking a step back, “I don’t have to imagine,” You turn around, your back now facing him, and you roll your eyes out of frustration.
He snorts, “I know you rolled your eyes at me,” He comments, voice low and raw with amusement. You turn around to look at him, and you see him grinning at you, pearly teeth on display as he tries to control his laughter, “You might not realise this yet, Y/n, but I know you,” He rasps, still amused, yet the glint in his eyes seems serious.
His words dawn on you, and your stomach flutters — but you don’t want to overthink about his words and the implication behind them. There can be endless, and you choose not to think about any right now.
Donghyuck gets dragged towards the changing room, and you follow after him and the stylist. You keep a close eye on him.
He’s leisurely making conversation with the stylist, making her ease into conversation and talk to him like they’re long lost friends. His innate gift of communicating is once again proven to you, and frankly to anyone else too. Even the ones mad at him seem to forget why they’re keeping away, once he opens his mouth.
Such charms are a gift, but also a curse — judging by where it got him these days.
You look at him, all styled, all ready to go in his beautiful navy suit you personally handpicked for him a few days ago. The blue brings out the tan of his skin just perfectly; he smells like Diptyque once again, and his longer strands are styled beautifully in order to frame his face.
You look up at him, while he plays with the buttons of his suit. The slope of his nose is perfect, and he pouts his full lips seemingly without realising, too busy paying attention to his sleeves.
You look at him in all his glory, and you let out a sigh.
You place the palm of your hand right in between his shoulder blades, your other hand grabbing him by the base of his neck. You push on his back and at the base of his neck simultaneously, making him adjust his posture.
“Uh,” He huffs, and his eyes widen as gets startled by your sudden actions. He clears his throat, trying to fight a smile.
“You need to learn to stand up straight,” You judge, still pushing on his spine and throat.
He finally breaks, smirk obvious even to you, and you look up at him just in time to see him licking his bottom lip.
“How’d you know I like this?” He provokes while smirking, looking down at you with the corner of his eye, but doesn’t change posture the moment you take your hands away from his body.
“Pervert,” You mumble, averting your gaze.
He chortles, turning around to look at you, posture still straight. He’s even taller than before, towering over you, and you hate that you have to look up at him.
“Oh c’mon!” He pulls you by the arm to get you to look at him, “You act like you weren't gawking at my naked body the other day,” He rasps lowly, keeping the banter between the two of you as you wait for him to be called for the interview, “I might be a pervert, but you’re not better than me!”
His hands extend towards you, trying to grab you by the arms to get your attention — or any other reaction out of you — but you’re quick with your movements as you slap his hands away. He manages to grab you by the wrist, and you stop squirming as you feel his warm and velvety skin touching yours.
You look up at him, only to notice his eyes trailing across your features, and right after looking you straight in the eye for a few seconds, his gaze falls on your lips. His gaze is sultry as he doesn’t look away, he doesn’t even let go of your wrist, yet you become relaxed to his touch.
You feel your stomach fluttering. It’s the look in his eyes, it’s the tongue still playing on his bottom lip, his cologne flooding your senses thanks to the proximity of your bodies. Your senses are alert, he managed to wake them up with a simple touch, and you suddenly feel like hotness it starting to pool in the pit of your stomach.
Your doe eyes, and the slight blush of your cheeks are enough to rile Donghyuck up, and enough to give him a reason to believe that maybe, just maybe, this doesn’t feel so wrong.
Just as you see him smirking once again, opening his mouth to let out something that you are sure is going to be pushing your buttons, he gets interrupted.
“Y/n?” A man’s voice snatches you out of the childish banter with Donghyuck, and you turn around to look for whoever just called your name.
A big smile stretches on your face, “Sungchan!”
The tall man takes a few steps, draping an arm around you, “You’re here, finally!” He smiles down at you, and then his gaze shifts towards Donghyuck, who's standing like a lost puppy behind you, “Lee Haechan! It’s so nice to finally get to meet you in person!”
Donghyuck nods, seriousness suddenly taking over his features, and he looks at the tall man who’s now on the receiving end of all your attention. He seems like a positive person; a helper, maybe. Someone you can rely on at all times — but he doesn’t want to imagine you, of all people, relying on the man who has you grinning from eat to ear right now. It should be him, the source of your grinning and decompressing, not this person you probably don’t even know as well as you know him.
He feels hotness starting to bother him, creeping up his neck — all the way to his jaw and ears. He feels uncomfortable, a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a long time. He starts feeling like a puppy once again, and he has the urge to take his tie off and possibly beat this man with it. Who cares if he adds one more controversy to the whole fiasco? Certainly not him, because he’s ready to do it if it means he has your attention back on himself.
Just as he’s ready to intervene in your conversation — even if he doesn’t know how, but he thinks he can find a way to ruin the shameless batting of eyelashes from your part — a voice calls for his name, announcing that he’s ready to go.
You turn around to look at him one last time, signalling him to be calm and level headed.
“I’ve always wanted to meet him!” Sungchan’s eyes sparkle while looking at the small screen as you follow the interview.
Donghyuck makes pleasant jokes to break the ice, witty sarcasm dripping off the tip of his tongue, enamouring the host, and you know he’s safe. He’s got this — like always.
Your attention shifts to Sungchan. You met him a long time ago, fresh out of university, during language classes you picked up as a hobby. You bonded over common interests and the fact that you attended the same course allowed you to study together from time to time, and spend more time together.
But then you started becoming busier with your career, and attending those classes became close to impossible. You kept in touch with Sungchan, and now he promised he’d help you out with Donghyuck’s interview.
You take your eyes off the small screen yet again, once you hear Sungchan humming.
“Are you busy tomorrow night?” He asks, voice raw, “Would you like to have dinner with me?”
You blink at him, and you try to keep your usual seriousness, but it becomes difficult when you notice how much his eyes are sparkling as he looks at you. You move your weight on your other leg, averting your gaze as you try to mask your delight.
The interview will air in a couple of weeks, and by that time everything will calm down with Donghyuck’s issue. Plus, this gives you the perfect opportunity to discuss more about how you’d like the interview to come out.
“Pick me up at eight,” You tell him, smiling softly, right before your gaze returns to the small screen.
Time goes by, Sungchan eventually leaves the studio, and Donghyuck seems to have the host wrapped around his pinky finger.
He waltz towards you, confidence coming out of every single pore on his skin, and he winks your way as he goes back to changing in his casual clothes.
He’s relaxed, he’s his usual self as he bids everyone goodbye, and even stops to shake hands of a few executives, all while carrying his expensive suit over his shoulder. You watch him being in his natural habitat — surrounded by people, being loved and appreciated by them. He smiles, lips curving while his smile reaches his eyes as he tries to dodge certain topics and turn people down in the most polite way. And he has the tact for it, he has diplomacy, yet he has the easygoing humour that knows exactly when to attenuate conflictual topics.
You’re still wondering why he got himself in this position in the first place. Going from being a prosecutor — profession which, by the way, endowed him with all the skills he sports nowadays — to becoming a tv host who has easily fallen in disgrace, victim of sensitive judgement and especially of cancel culture.
“So,” He starts, approaching his Porsche in the parking lot, “Should we have dinner together, tomorrow? You know… to celebrate the fact that tonight was a success,”
You raise your eyebrows, and you see the unfaltering glint in his eyes only getting bigger with excitement. You think it’s because your plan was successful, he enjoyed the interview, and it will be enough to clear up all sorts of confusion when it comes to his controversies.
“I’d love to,” You start, and you think the glint in his eyes became even more sparkly, “But…” You suck air through your teeth, wrinkling your nose.
Donghyuck doesn’t like how you wrinkle your nose — or, to put it better, what it implies.
He nods insistingly, pushing you to continue, “I’m fairly sure you didn’t have anything planned,”
You shrug, “Sungchan kinda beat you to it,”
The sky falls on him. While he was following your orders, another man worked his charms on you?
“You’re ditching me for someone you barely know?” He’s getting worked up, but he’s trying to keep it light by pushing his tongue in the inside on his cheek as he smiles with disbelief.
“Sungchan and I are friends,” You retort, suddenly not liking how you have to explain your life to Donghyuck — who has been a total stranger to you, and with whom you only reconnected a month ago.
“Friends?” He sniggers, disbelief making his voice high in pitch, “If you’re friends with him, then what does that make us?”
“You’re my client, Donghyuck,” You spit out, arrogance matching his during his worst days. This is the first time Donghyuck hates the way you say his name. “I’ll call you soon. You better pick up my calls!” You warn him as your heels clink on the concrete, as you walk towards the exit.
And Donghyuck feels his insides churning as he thinks of what you’ve just told him.
Unbelievable.
It’s unbelievable how he is at home, bored out of his mind, and you’re out on a what? A date?
He likes to think it’s just a simple chit-chat with an old friend, but he’s a man and he knows how the ones of his kind can get when there’s a pretty girl around.
You called him his client, but he remembers how you called him a fool for believing you were his lawyer.
Your usual biting back every time he tries to get closer hasn’t changed. Maybe you misunderstood his intentions, and no, this isn’t about him asking you out — because he totally did that, and was hoping you’d finally warm up to him.
You literally rocked his world when you reappeared in his life, yet you’re now out with that Sung-something, and he feels like he is going to lose all progress made with you up until now. Is it a crime that he wants to crash your supposed date? That he doesn’t care if the press finds him wandering the streets as he looks for the restaurant that man took you out to?
Instead, he picks up his phone. He wants to send a text, just to make sure you’re having fun — but who is he kidding? He wants to send a text to bring your attention on him.
How long have you known this Sung person for, anyway? Donghyuck bets the history between him and you feels heavier, fuller than whatever friendship you have with that guy because, after all, as much as you might not have liked it, you two were always around each other all those years back.
He sighs, taking a sip from his glass of wine, and he lets his intrusive thoughts win. He dials your number, but just as expected, you don’t pick up. So he insists, because that’s what he’s best at — pushing your buttons.
“You better be dying and for some reason I’m the last number in your recents,” You spit through gritted teeth, as you pick up his call.
He smiles like a fool when he finally hears your voice, “I am dying,” He chuckles, playing with the rings on his fingers, “Dying to see you again,”
“Unbelievable,” You let out an outraged mumble. He can’t see you, but he knows you just rolled your eyes at his comeback.
If only you could see him now, you’d see his pupils are the shape of hearts as his eyes glint just imagining you reacting to him.
“Why did you call me? I’m kinda busy,” You burst his bubble, and he’s the one rolling his eyes now. Just the thought of your whereabouts and the company you keep right now is making his throat go dry.
“Oh, really?” He plays dumb, yet he knows he can’t fool you, “Was it tonight? I forgot about that,” He’s shameless, and he hears your scoffing.
“We literally talked about this last night, Hyuck,” His heart skips a bit at the way you call his name, because only people who are close to him can use his government name — and he certainly feels you being close to him, as much as neither of you have ever addressed this before.
“I must have forgotten,” His tone drips with fake innocence, a pout forming on his plump lips.
You hate that you can envision him right now — in his home attire, his fluffy hair unkept, only combed through by his fingers, glasses resting on the bridge of his pretty nose, bare feet taking steps between the living room and kitchen.
“So, what? Are you on a date right now?” He challenges, finally letting you know why he’s calling. You make a sound that he takes as a confirmation of his fears, “With Mr Lanky?”
“Donghyuck!” You warn, outraged and tired. “You’re lucky he’s gone to the restroom and couldn’t hear this useless conversation,”
“Oh, I don’t know, gorgeous,” He smirks to himself, “He’s been gone for a while. What if he’s got the runs after talking to a gorgeous girl like yourself?” His tone is low and, as much as you want to hang up the call, his voice makes your stomach flutter.
That, or the cheese soufflé is the one to blame.
“Come by later,” He rasps, and you almost think you didn’t hear him right, “If things are disastrous and he really shat himself… just come by,”
And he doesn’t wait to hear your reply. He doesn’t want to hear a smart comeback coming from you, but he hopes you’ll come to him.
And while you don’t show up to his place like he asked you, you certainly think about him for the rest of the night. Sungchan, who seemed like a knight in shiny armour when he picked you up, has suddenly shifted in your eyes — especially after the phone call from Donghyuck.
Your energy deflects, you’re sure the man across the table picks up on this as well. The more you look at him, the more you realise he just isn’t what you want and what you need.
His jokes aren’t obtuse, offensive, or genuinely funny either. The sparkle in his eyes is there only when he talks about work, and you hate that you reached a point in which you’re comparing him to the obnoxious person hunting your mind.
Truth be told, no one does it like him. You realise that even your past so-called rivalry between the two of you was something you missed while he was out there trying to conquer the world.
Suddenly, the night seems wasted. The cheese soufflé too insipid, the steak too dry, the company not what you were hoping for. And not because Sungchan is a bad guy with an abysmal personality, but because he’s not Donghyuck.
“Everything okay?” Sungchan asks you at some point, and you realise you haven’t been listening to him, and that he probably noticed.
You nod, giving him a small smile, just hoping that it’s enough to fool you both. Everything seemed to be going well until Donghyuck called you.
“Do you think you can send me a copy of the interview after you’re done with it?” You mumble absentmindedly, playing with the fork in your hand.
Sungchan smiles, teeth on display, “Y/n, I’m not here to talk about Haechan’s interview,” He announces, and a lump sets in your throat, “I wanted to have this opportunity to ask you out,”
Oh, you mouth as you find it difficult to keep your eyes on him.
He lets out a huff of laughter, albeit you know it’s not light and genuine, “But I guess it’s better if we keep our friendship this way, right?” He’s hurt, but he’s faking it not to make you uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry, Sungchan, I didn-” You try to explain but he shakes his hand, smile still present on his lips.
“No worries! I dropped it on you out of the blue, I apologise for that!” He doesn’t have to apologise for his feelings, yet he does — literally thinking that he made you uncomfortable with his small and innocent confession.
Your chest suddenly hurts, and your eyes feel like they’re becoming fuller with unspoken feelings and emotions, and he pats your hand from across the table as he senses his mistake.
“I don’t want you to feel bad, ‘kay? We’re just at different places in our lives, even if your and someone else’s are perfectly aligned right now! I just had to shoot my shot, I hope you can understand,” He’s awfully comforting, and somehow if feels even heavier inside your chest.
You try to shake this strange feeling away, but your insides start churning at the unbearable thought that you rejected the man in front of you, and at the thought of your bubbling feelings that need to be addressed soon.
The door swings open, and you already think this is a bad idea. The smirk in the corner of his mouth confirms that maybe you were better off at home, in your pyjamas.
It’s been a few days since you last spoke to Donghyuck, and as much as you hate do admit it, your last interaction with Sungchan planted a thought in your brain. One that you can’t really ignore. Instead, you show up to his doorstep trying to get the answers you need.
“Wowza, gorgeous!” Donghyuck smirks, eyeing you from head to toe. He moves away from the doorway, allowing you to walk in, and you stop by the entrance. “I think you really like my place, that’s why you drop by all the time,” He rasps, eyes glinting, “That, or maybe you just like me,”
You roll your eyes, glance stopping on one picture by the entrance — that you didn’t notice last time you were here. Probably because his sleepy figure was standing in front of it, unknowingly blocking your view. You recognise the picture, it’s one of the last pictures you took with your friends as a whole group, back during your university years — before Jaemin relocated to another big city, before one of your girl friends got herself into rehab; back when everything seemed normal and felt whole. You spot yourself in a corner, hugging Jaemin and Yizhuo — your closest friends during university — and you spot Donghyuck in the other corner, smiling at the camera like he’s the sun itself.
It was one of the last outings you did as a group, right before graduation, and right before life got busy for all of you. Looking at all the faces in the picture, you realise that was one of the best trips you took, and you think of all the times Donghyuck made the outings better and less boring.
He sees how you’re getting lost in the nostalgia of the past, as your gaze travels along the faces in the picture. Truth be told, that picture is there for one reason only, and said reason is now looking at it with eyes full of emotion.
He looks at you once again. You look spectacular — black dress that kisses your curves and shapes the right way, your naked shoulders seem so soft and smooth and he has to fight the thought of what your skin might feel like under the burning skin of his hands.
You’re gorgeous, and a lump forms in his throat as he feels like you’ve never been more unattainable than right now.
Are you… perhaps…
“Going on a date?” He can’t help but ask. He sees as your gaze moves from the picture, to look at him, and you put the frame down, “How’s skid marks?” His tone is bored as he turns around to walk towards his kitchen island.
You take your heels off, and you follow him towards his kitchen with angry patters as your bare feet take steps on the hardwood floor.
“Don’t call him that!” You bark, his nickname for Sungchan suddenly upsetting you, “Be nice, he’s helping us,”
“Is he?” He asks, not interested in the slightest to hear your reply, “Is that why you’re going out on dates with him? Or is it because he’s your friend and I’m your client?” Suddenly he’s attentive like a vulture — he wants to hear your reply to this one question.
“Can you be serious for one moment?” You question, not wanting to bicker with him right now.
His cocky smirk makes an appearance, “I’m a prosecutor, Y/n. I can see you’re stalling,” He retorts, and he takes pleasure in seeing you biting your bottom lip, trying your best not to snap at him. “But alright, gorgeous. To what do I owe the immense pleasure of having you here tonight?”
You shift your weight from one leg to the other, and your hands go to your dress before you can control yourself.
“I was promised a dinner,” You purr, matter-of-factly.
Donghyuck wants to grin, but fights it. How did you manage to stay out of his life for so long? It’s beyond his understanding. You make him want to start howling at the moon like a depraved dog, which reminds him of how you called him a puppy before.
And remembering the way you looked up at him as you did so, touching him, talking down to him — it literally gives Donghyuck goosebumps. But he’s not ready to admit this to anyone other than himself so, instead, he does what he knows best — he acts like he’s unfazed.
He gets ready, as you look around his place. Despite him being home ever since he was put on unpaid leave, the whole place is spotless. You think it’s because he’s been living off take out all this time, and that he’s used one or maybe two cups to drink from, but you’re impressed either way.
He shows up wearing a tux, and he steps out of his dressing room manoeuvring a bow tie.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” You fake a gasp, “I didn’t know we were attending the fucking Oscars!”
He’s in front of the mirror, styling his bow tie while looking at you through the mirror. His eyes are piercing, he doesn’t dare look away — eyes locked onto yours — and he smirks.
“You did it first,” He points at your dress, “You thought we’d be staying in with you looking like that?!” He exaggerates, wrinkling his nose, “No way, baby,”
“Don’t call me that,” You mumble, moving towards the door, but you grab him by the sleeve to get his attention on you, “But do you think this is a good idea? Going out right now… with you and your problems?”
“Y/n,” He sighs, quickly checking his pockets for everything he needs before heading out, “You have to know me better than this by now… to know that it’s been so long that I don’t give a fuck anymore,” He opens the door for you, and this time you wait for him by the door, instead of walking in front of him towards the lifts, “And I can get us a table literally anywhere. Name the nicest place you wanna go to, and we can get in,”
“I think that’d be the case if you weren’t a prosecutor who turned into a disgraced tv personality,” You ridicule him as you walk on the long hallway, but he doesn’t seem too offended by it. You might be right, anyway.
“It’s worth trying, at least,” He shrugs, and then he turns around to look at you with that cocky smirk that’s so typical him.
“What?” You sigh, looking at the led arrows signalling where the lift is coming from.
“So basically you admitted to showing up looking like trouble, thinking we’d be staying home?” He rasps, stupid grin of victory on his face, and then he tsks, “You just wanted to seduce me,”
You punch him in the stomach, but he doesn’t flinch. Instead, you step inside the lift before he can register what you’re doing, “Let’s see how seduced you get by me making you take the stairs,” And you press the button, urging the doors to close before he can stop them with his foot or hand.
“That wasn’t very nice,” He retorts when you’re finally out on the street.
You discovered he has four luxury cars parked in the underground parking lot of his building, and given your dress code tonight, he went straight to the Porsche.
“But you did it nonetheless,” You point out, looking at the pedestrians crossing the street, “Just like a puppy,”
He doesn’t even fight it, because he knows you’re right. Instead, he chooses to ignore it for his own good.
He looks at you, as the red lights from the cars ahead contour your pretty features. And to think that out of endless possibilities you got back into his life by being his lawyer makes him feel like becoming a disgraced tv personality really helped him in his destiny. If it weren’t for his big, problematic mouth, he would have been alone and miserable right now — in his luxurious apartment, with his four cars parked underground, with lavish dinners and a reckless dating style. Instead, you showed up.
He can’t and won’t take it for granted.
“Where are you taking me?” Your voice is small, almost as if your mind is somewhere else.
“I have a few options, if they take us in,” He jokes, using your words, “Is there something you’re craving, gorgeous?”
You actually think about it. As you take your sweet time trying to think of something, your glance wanders around his car — and it finally lands on Donghyuck.
He’s relaxed, even as he speeds. His tux brings a certain air to him, like he’s the most expensive and most untouchable man on this entire planet. Confidence oozes from all his pores, even as he does nothing but keep a hand on the steering wheel — and you feel your insides churning, but you desperately hope for it to be because of hunger.
“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” You speak up before you can control yourself. His curiosity makes him throw you quick glances before his eyes go back to the road, seemingly taken by surprise by your change of tone. This isn’t going to be about food, and he knows it, “You were too good at what you were doing for you to be remembered by the public as nothing but a fragment of a proper scandal. It actually upsets me,”
Donghyuck doesn’t know what to answer, mainly because he doesn’t see it as you. He’s sorry you’re upset about this matter, and he wishes he could take it all away from you. He also wishes he could speak up and have a proper conversation about this topic and why he thinks you’re wrong, but it’s like his lips are sealed when it comes to speaking up about the matter.
He didn’t know you cared about him, or anything involving him — including his career — this much.
His silence feels heavy as your ears start ringing waiting for his answer, and it never comes. You’re left waiting as you listen to the purring of his Porsche’s engine, and at the way he breathes evenly — not rushed, not panicked, not even upset. He just breathes as he refuses to make any kind of comment to what you just told him. Did you really think that opening up about this to the guy with the biggest ego in the world was a good idea?
Too lost into your own worries and overthinking, you fail to notice how the car slows down, and then you finally notice him carefully looking for somewhere to park. You look outside the window, not recognising this side of the city.
“Do you remember the greasy, meat sandwiches we had on our last trip together?” He asks, and he actually sees how your gaze starts sparkling at the memory he just brought up, “It’s one of the things I’ve been craving the most lately, thinking about that day. And luckily for us, this guy right here seems to have the exact recipe,”
Never in a million years did you think you’d be having sandwiches with Donghyuck at the outskirts of the city, bought right from a street food truck, while the grease trailed down your forearms as you tried to keep it away from your outfit. Because obviously, looking straight out of a fashion magazine, like you’re ready to go to a charity gala and eat the most expensive food ever served to you could ever compare to seeing melted cheese and grease smudged on Donghyuck’s cheeks as he chewed his bite.
The first bite taken from your sandwich almost got a moan out of you, while Donghyuck’s got a proper grunt out of him.
It feels almost painful to admit that he’s right thinking this was something you’d end up enjoying. It helps you go back to the past, when his smile was more carefree, when his jokes were even more obtuse than nowadays, when the sparkle brought to his eyes during classes or fights with you was more prominent.
You know he’s hiding something, and you wish he’d open up to you — at least a little bit. But you don’t want him to shelter himself behind a shell you never knew he had. He’s always been loud, proud, morally upright — and something took that away from him.
“Tell me this sandwich isn’t so much better than sex,” He moans, mouth absolutely full to the point it’s difficult for him to chew.
You nearly knock the tall glass of non-alcoholic beer you’ve been sharing with him, and you give him a quizzical look.
“What kind of odd experiences have you been having?” Your tone is high in pitch, full of disbelief.
“Oh, c’mon,” He swallows his bite, “Like you’ve never had a bad experience? With a man? Hard to believe,”
“Were your bad experiences also with men?” You pout at him sympathetically, almost on the verge of pinching his cheek and ridiculing him.
He lets out a howl of laughter, almost choking, “Touché,” He comments, licking his lips, all content with the progression of your conversation.
The interaction quiets down, and you see him eyeing you curiously before going back to his sandwich. But you know him just too well, and as expected, he throws the ball in your court after taking a big sip from your shared beer.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” He smiles softly, setting down his sandwich on the aluminium foil on the high table. When he sees you nodding, he waits a few more seconds, “Why did you not become a prosecutor?” He asks, cleaning his hands with a wet wipe — definitely needed in order to get rid of all the grease.
When he sees your questioning gaze, seemingly not understanding the question — or where it’s coming from, he clears his throat. “I mean, you had the skills. You and I were unbeatable at what we were doing, so when I didn’t see you in the field as one of my colleagues, I got worried. I was thinking you wasted so much potential being God knows where, doing God knows what. I had no idea of your whereabouts because, God is my witness, I really looked for you as a last resort to try and reach out and make you change your mind,” He rasps, but his tone is gentle, and it brings you comfort, “So where the hell have you been?”
You guess this is a good start for the candid conversation you were planning on starting with him, but didn’t know how to approach him first. Almost because you opened a small door earlier, during the car ride, and he seemed like he closed it shut in the blink of an eye.
You set your sandwich down on the foil, right next to his, and you grab one of the wet wipes he extends towards you.
“Becoming a prosecutor was never my goal,” You admit, cleaning the corners of your mouth, “I always wanted to study law to help the underprivileged. Yes, prosecuting bad guys always seems like the best choice when you think of a career in law and the whole concept of justice. But what about the people who can’t afford to be represented in court by someone who’s actually capable and confident with their skills? What about the NPO’s and charities that need someone to represent them? What about the people?”
He looks at you, at the small crease between your brows as you get so passionate about your love for your job, and he has the next question he wants to ask you, on the tip of his tongue. Yet you beat him to it.
“Why did you throw out a successful and rewarding career? Just to become a tv host?” You ask him. This question has been bothering you ever since you stumbled upon his show on television, right after he gave up his career.
“It’s more complicated than that,” He gives you a tight-lipped smile, and you understand that it really doesn’t come easy to him to open up about this change. So it really wasn’t about him loving being in the centre of attention on television, and the shift to a career in this field that could mean fulfilling this crazy need for attention faster. You judged him too harshly, even if it’s just Donghyuck.
“Then open up to me!” You plead, because it’s something you need to understand about him, “I’m the one that can understand you on this, better than anyone else,”
You’re right. Donghyuck knows this, and as much as he would have loved to tease you a bit for your choice of words and wanting to get closer to him, he refrains, understanding this is not the right time for this, for neither one of you.
“Everything was going well, I was on a roll,” He starts, finally giving in. If he wants to get somewhere with you, anywhere near where he wants you two to be, he needs to open up and finally face his past. “My success rate was unbeatable and, as you might have seen, they even talked me into helping people on national television,” He looks straight ahead, thinking of the past few years and what he’s gone through, “They made me their product and I enjoyed the money and the attention, this is one of the truths,” He clears his throat, reaching for the cold beer.
So what? Is that all he has to say about this drastic change in his life? You wonder to yourself. Were you right from the beginning? Did he really do it for the attention?
“But another truth is that… I did something I can never forgive myself for, not even today,” His voice breaks, and he’s still avoiding your gaze, “One of the last cases I worked on was just… atrocious. We’re talking about abuse of the worst kind, and it all ended with murder. This motherfucker murdered his entire family… and he got away with it,”
Realising the gravity of the story he’s telling you, you keep your mouth shut.
He takes a big breath, “Someone tampered with key pieces of evidence in the case, so he walked out of court almost trotting. That piece of shit was beaming with satisfaction, and for the first time ever I could do nothing about it,”
Your weight shifts from one leg, to the other, “Any internal investigation that could find the culprit?”
He nods, finally looking at you, and you get to see just how affected he still is by the whole matter, even if it’s been a while since it happened. Something this big always stays with you.
He licks his lips, “Of course! I started an internal investigation to find answers, but then after a while I got a call from my higher ups telling me to drop it,” He pauses for a few seconds, and then lets out a ridiculing scoff, “Of course I didn’t! What kind of prosecutor with a moral compass does that?!”
You think you have a faint idea of where this story is headed. He’s getting upset, eyebrows furrowed as he recalls his past.
“It took a call from a politician to threaten me, for me to stop the investigation. That’s also when I decided to quit,” His voice is small, yet upset.
He’s playing with a peace of foil on the table, wrinkling and then smoothing it, and your eyes fall on his crooked pinky.
“But!” He snaps, suddenly back to having a good mood, and the enthusiasm takes you by surprise. “My turn!” He picks up your sandwich, taking a bite of it. “Why did you quit your career to become a corporate lawyer?” His mouth is full, but you understand him nonetheless.
He keeps his eyes on you as you pick up his sandwich, and you shrug, “I needed a change,” You avert your gaze, looking at where his teeth sank into the soft bread, “I needed to see if there were more exciting things out there,”
“And how did that work out for you?” He giggles, thinking of the irony of your choice. You wanted to help the underprivileged, yet you ended up working for a corporation straight out of hell.
He looks at you, and he can’t believe just how beautiful you are. You features are so soft in the food truck’s lighting, your skin literally shines in the cold hues.
He sees you taking a bite from the sandwich you’re holding — his sandwich, and a smirk plays in the corner of his mouth.
“You know we’re basically kissing right now, right?” He rasps, squinting his eyes at you while he sports a shit-eating grin.
You roll your eyes at him, “Your kiss is greasy,” You retort almost instantly, dropping the last bits of sandwich back on the foil, and you clean the corners of your mouth.
“Yours is worse,” He mumbles, side eyeing you.
“What are you even talking about?” You’re confused by his nonsense, eyes scanning him from head to toe as he takes another bite from your sandwich.
You find yourself gawking once again. He seems so relaxed, so comfortable around you, so confident even to be in public making a mess on his face when literally anybody can see him — not just you anymore.
And it hits you. Since when did you think you and him were close enough to imagine yourself as the sole person allowed to see him in all sorts of circumstances? Your long history of knowing each other has never properly allowed you to go there with your thoughts, and yet you did — and it makes you feel completely out of place.
Yet for some reason, you’ve always felt comfortable around him. Thinking of it now that he shuts up and lets you be alone with your thoughts for a little bit, you think of the past. Never, not even once — not even when you wanted to kill him for starting a contradicting argument for his sole entertainment — did you feel like he repulsed you.
“See for yourself,” He bursts your bubble, and your eyes get back in focus as you look at his tan forearms, while he extends your sandwich towards you. “I know you didn’t believe me. Take a bite,”
You throw him a skeptical look, and you see his eyes studying your face closely, searching for something. But you give in, nonetheless. And you touch his hand as he directs the sandwich to your lips.
And then, he snatches his hand away, his lips smacking yours instead. It happens in a split second, and you don’t even have the time to register it happening, but it doesn't feel bad, or wrong. He retracts for a bit, the hand holding the greasy piece of bread far away from your figure, and he grabs your chin with his fingers.
His thumb travels, caressing his way up from your chin to your bottom lip, and he keeps studying your face for any sign that this might not be what you want right now. And the moment he feels your eyes on his lips, and sees you kicking your lips out of habit, he bends down once again.
His kiss is fervent, almost desperate, like he feeds off of it. His lips are just as plump and soft as you thought they would be, and you don’t even think twice before parting your lips, granting him access. It feels hot, something you’ve never experienced before — not from a single kiss, anyway.
His free hand travels towards the side of your face, fingers combing through your hair to pull you even closer. His abilities are to be praised right now, as he gets to control you to get you to do anything he puts his mind to with one hand only, the other still kept away from your bodies.
The kiss gets deeper and heated fast, while neither one of you feels like pulling away. This might be a monumental mistake, but it surely doesn’t feel like that right now. Right now, you think you’re exactly where you want to be — while Donghyuck is absolutely certain he is where he’s always wanted to be.
Your hands go up his neck, which has gotten incredibly hot, and you keep him close to yourself as your fingers play with the longer strands of hair from behind his ears. He grunts into the kiss, and you suddenly become breathless.
He retracts slightly, eyes still closed as he keeps giving you small pecks, allowing the both of you to get your breathing back to normal, as gracefully as possible.
“Was my kiss greasy?” He rasps, tone low sending shivers down your spine.
You gulp, keeping your eyes closed, “No,” You shake your head almost imperceptibly, but he feels you moving your face in his grip, “But your greasy hand is in my hair,” You open your eyes just a bit, looking at him through your lashes, and you see him smirking.
“Shhhh, don’t ruin our moment,” He nudges your nose with his, then going back to pecking your lips.
And you give in once again, feeling his fingers pulling you towards him.
Your leg bounces as you sit on one of the leather armchairs in the waiting room, right outside of your boss’s office.
Anxiety is pooling in the pit of your stomach like never before, not even when you had stressful cases on your hands did you ever feel like this. It makes you sweat, it makes you want to throw up, especially because you know you’re in big trouble.
You woke up with a terrible headache, like your body was preparing you for impact first thing in the morning, like it was giving you a sign that a shit storm was coming your way and that the headache was just the tip of the iceberg.
And then you checked your phone. Texts, missed calls from Johnny, articles about you and Donghyuck. Apparently all the times you warned him about the press being on his trails should have been a reminder for you as well, because you appear together in all the pictures published.
Pictures of you and him strolling around the street, pictures of you and him spotted shopping together. Pictures of you two at the studio, when the two of you were bickering, except no one knows that. From the looks of it, it seems like you two are being very close, to the point of Donghyuck grabbing you — which is totally true, but the circumstances were absolutely different than what they’re being made to seem like in these pictures. And then, the worst of all, pictures from two nights ago, when you and Donghyuck made out in the middle of the night right in front of the food truck, and then in his car — and there’s no excuse or any other explanation for these last pictures, there’s no way you can deny it. It’s all out there for everyone to see, like a reminder that lines have been crossed and you acted recklessly.
You didn’t even try to call him, to try and talk to him about this, to try to find a version of a story plausible as to why the two of you — a lawyer and her client — were eating each other’s faces the other night.
Instead, you called Johnny and came to the headquarters as soon as you managed to calm down the erratic beating of your heart.
You’re sure everyone around has heard the news or seen the pictures, and you fear of what they might be thinking of you right now. You’ve never been a fan of judgement, and being in the limelight now makes you incredibly anxious.
Your temples are still throbbing, your throat is dry, and it feels like you’re living a nightmare. And right as you think about this, the lift dings, announcing someone is about to come out, and then you see him — your real nightmare.
The man that turned your world upside down with just a smack of lips and a foul mouth full of smart comebacks and obnoxious jokes. He spots you right as he steps out of the lift.
“Good morning, gorgeous!” He takes a seat right next to you, on the other armchair, “What brings you here so early?”
You look at him, genuinely wondering what is wrong with him. He looks at you like an innocent puppy, eyebrows raised and lips pouting, all while he swings his leg from left to right as he sits leisurely.
“Are you being for real right now? Did you not see the news?” You bark at him, ready to start punching him. You’re at your limit, and he’s on very thin ice right now.
He shakes his head, shrugging with innocence, “Johnny called me in as soon as I woke up, so I didn’t really have the time to be on my phone,” He explains, and you believe him — knowing that he’s not the type to be on his phone, given all the times he hasn’t picked up your calls or replied to your work emails as proof of this. “Why? What happened?”
“You and I happened,” You point your index finger, moving it between you two.
“Right,” He smirks, and you genuinely think he’s doing it to provoke you into hurting him, “It certainly is a good morning!”
“Hyuck!” You slap his leg, turning towards him. The crease on your forehead is terribly cute to him, and he feels an urge to kiss your worries away — even if it might put his life in danger. “This is serious. There are pictures everywhere! We’re in so much trouble, and Johnny has been on the phone all morning,” You explain, and then you sigh, “What do you think they’re gonna do to us?”
He looks at you like he doesn’t understand what it is you want from him, “I don’t know, gorgeous,” He shrugs, feigning innocence, “They might have to hang us right outside this building,”
“See?! This is exactly the kind of shit you end up saying that gets you in trouble!” You cry, getting upset with him not taking anything seriously.
He can see you’re getting worked up over this issue, and even if he feels bad for upsetting you with his jokes, he finds it incredibly endearing for some reason.
“You’re right, but let me ask you a question,” He turns his body to face yours, almost sitting on the edge of the cushion, “Now that we’re addressing this properly,” He moves his hand between your bodies, “My joke from that night wasn’t that bad, right?”
You roll your eyes, looking the other way as you try not to snap at him, “No, it was pretty good actually,” You confess, remembering that after the initial shock of seeing him making such joke on national television subsided, you let out a howl of laughter, “Too bad some people have boundaries they don’t joke about,”
“Thank you!” He lets out a sigh of relief, relaxing into his seat, almost as if your last line didn’t make it to his ears, “I agree that I should have made that joke in a different environment, but the backlash was too strong for just a simple joke,” He concludes, mumbling as if he wants you to know he’s not that bad as a person.
The office door opens, and a very stressed Johnny appears in the doorway, “Y/n, get in,” He calls your name, but his gaze shifts to Donghyuck, “Great, you’re here too,” He doesn’t seem too ecstatic, and Donghyuck certainly does not appreciate the coldness of his boss’s tone, “Get in,”
You enter the office, taking a seat on the velvety couch in the corner of Johnny’s office. He sits across from you, and gives you a smile.
“I’d say we have a problem,” He relaxes into his seat, crossing his legs.
“And I’d agree,” You reply, noticing with the corner of your eye how Donghyuck’s head snaps to the side to look at you.
Johnny nods in understanding, seemingly content that you’re on the same page regarding this issue, “But we’d both be so wrong!”
“What?” You squeak, getting on the edge of your seat. You’re so confused right now, you squirm your eyes while looking at your boss.
“See, dearest… the dating scandal brought you into the limelight, and people seem to be talking about you more than Haechan’s controversial joke,” Johnny explains, and you still don’t understand what the good part is to all this, “People are going to be curious about your life, and truth be told Y/n, your record is impeccable. They’ll talk about you, they’ll say you’re the perfect match for Haechan, and everything will calm down.” He claps his hands, satisfied with his explanation, “See? Everything will work out perfectly! I talked to our PR team and, between us, this is the perfect move! How did you end up thinking of this? This was a genius move!”
You look at him, still confused, and then your gaze shifts to look at Donghyuck, who looks back at you just as confused.
“Erm…” You clear your throat, tilting your head, “We didn’t do it as a PR move,” You explain, still very much confused. So much that your words come out as a question.
Johnny opens his mouth, surprised, and then points at you, “Oh well, in this case… Congrats!” He looks at Donghyuck, “And good luck to you!” He eyes you this time, still smiling.
After being dismissed from Johnny’s office, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The headache is now gone, you feel like you can finally go back to relaxing after an entire morning spent thinking you’re three heartbeats away from having a stroke.
You’re pretty much at peace with the fact that they’re going to focus on desiccating your past for a while, thus giving Donghyuck a bit of space after a long time. You’re not as problematic, you don’t make bad jokes, you’ve always been in your lane — and have always done your best to be respectful and good at doing your job, as best as you could. You’re sure that your life isn’t nearly as fascinating as Donghyuck’s, but you really don’t mind.
Even as you walk inside his luxurious building and towards his apartment, Donghyuck follows your steps. He smiles at the thought that, even after weeks, he’s still following you wherever you’re going — and it doesn’t matter that you don’t have a key to his place. He looks at how determined your strut is, like the place is yours and not the other way around.
“What?” You ask him, not accustomed to having him silenced for so long.
“Nothing,” He opens the door for you to walk in, still in front of him, “I might have to give you a key to my place,” He says nonchalantly, like it’s not a big deal.
You choke on air, and you turn around to give him a horrified look, “A key?! Already?” You’re in disbelief, and quite frankly terrified of this man’s pace, “We haven’t talked about this stuff yet,”
“What is there to talk about?” He asks, and he seems genuinely confused. He seems relaxed, very comfortable with your presence even if you haven’t even been able to define your relationship yet.
“This,” You point your finger at him, and then towards yourself, “We haven’t even defined what we are. We have stuff to talk about, and steps to take,”
He snaps his head to look at you, shaking it all confused and with his eyes squinting, “Again… what is there to talk about? Just move in, gorgeous, we can talk at home,” He’s serious as he approaches you, grabbing you by the chin before he guides your face to get closer to his.
His lips capture yours in a sweet yet passionate kiss. They're soft on top of yours, and for a moment he gets lost in the taste of your lip balm, “Is this enough to label us?” He rasps, letting you go before he starts heading towards his dressing room.
When you fail to answer, he comes back, bare feet loud on the hardwood floor, “You’re stalling. Again,” He warns, getting closer to you once again, “I don’t like that. I want things to be quick, precise, orderly. And I want you, Y/n,”
His confession sets a lump in your throat that’s hard to gulp down, words suddenly too difficult to get out of you.
“Years passed and regrets amassed, and not acting upon my desires at the right time made me miserable. I don’t want that for myself, and I thought my intentions were clear enough for you to understand that I don’t need a label to define us, because I quite literally want to put the world at your feet, Y/n,” He speaks, and you try to fight a smile from creeping up on your features, “You came back into my life and you rocked my world and knocked some sense into me, one that was long forgotten and which I ended up despising. I will not sit back and watch you slip through my fingers again,”
He looks silly, but it makes your chest fill with warmth as you see his pout while he concludes his statement. He’s standing in front of you, wearing his pyjama shorts which he managed to change into right before he felt the need to come back and chew your ears off, and he’s still wearing his light blue shirt, cardigan discarded of as soon as he stepped back inside.
“This reminds me just how good you are with argumentation,” You grin, but he knows you heard him loud and clear, and you’re not out the door — so that must mean you’re not turning him down, “Is this gonna be our thing? We get off complimenting each other on our argumentation skills?” The thought seems horrifying, but it gets a snort of laughter out of Donghyuck, nonetheless.
He shakes his head, unbuttoning his shirt. “I have a few other ways to get us off,”
“Is that so?” You purr, desire suddenly making your insides melt.
Your eyes fall on the tanned skin of his chest, trailing all the way down to your favourite spot — the V line. He gets closer to you with dangerously slow steps, like he has you exactly where he wants, where he’s planned to have you all along.
Just one quick glance up to his face, with your gaze locking into his, and the look he’s giving you makes you suddenly want to avert your gaze. He’s confident, proud, standing upright, walking towards you like he’s literally going to take a bite out of you — not that you would mind, anyway.
He stops in front of you, his breath hitting your face as you suddenly feel small, shy to look up at him. His gaze feels intimidating, and makes your skin burn with desire, your flimsy blouse suddenly too clingy and too uncomfortable on your skin.
“I need to know, gorgeous,” He mumbles, slender fingers playing with a strand of your hair, pushing it back behind your ear, “What about that spare key,”
You hum with delight, stretching your arms around his neck, glueing your clothed chest to his bare one, and his hands travel hungrily behind your back with a tight grip.
“I think I’ll have no choice but to agree. The prosecution side had a very compelling argument,” You sing, finally looking up at him, and he keeps his mouth awfully close to yours, but your lips don’t touch.
He hums, nose nudging yours, and you can feel his fingers traveling under your blouse, fingertips touching your ardent skin and giving you goosebumps.
It makes you literally burn up with desire. His fingers squeeze your sides and the pressure feels almost too good given the force with which he’s doing it, all because of how much he wants you right now. His arms are around you in a split second, and you don’t even realise he’s taken you off the ground, determined steps making their way towards where you suppose his bedroom is.
Normally, you’d look around yourself, but right now your mouth is too busy on his, tongues clashing as he moans into the kiss. Your fingers travel around his nape, up all the way into his hair, pulling gently at his strands — getting a proper grunt out of him.
He puts you down, bare feet planted on what feels like a rug right by the foot of the bed, and he plays with the waistband of your pants, pulling them down but leaving your panties on.
You push him back on the bed, and you get on top of him — you can feel he’s already rock hard, and your mouth is literally watering at the thought of tasting him. His hot mouth is on your neck, tongue playing around and leaving wet trails everywhere it can get, one of his free hands travels to your back to unhook your bra, helping you getting rid of your blouse and bra in a split second.
You feel like you’re on a cloud, high on desire and pleasure — he could literally manoeuvre you around and you wouldn’t realise. His hands keep you steady on his lap, on top of his hard-on, not allowing you to move because he’d quite literally lose his mind if you gave him even the slightest friction.
He keeps his mouth busy, lips kissing the plush of your breasts before his mouth latches onto your nipple, and he grunts with pleasure now that it finally dawns on him that he’s getting all of you to himself.
“So, so gorgeous, my baby,” He breathes on your swollen nip, right before his mouth latches onto the other, and hearing his airy praise from him has you moaning, head tilted to the side as you get lost in the pleasure, and you can’t help but move your hips on top of his lap.
He moans, fingers digging forcefully into your hips to stop you, yet the force with which he’s doing it makes you even more aroused.
His moan vibrates around your nipple, and you push at his shoulders slightly, clearly giving him instructions on what to do. All the bullshit he pulled a while back about being your puppy and not taking orders from you? Totally bluffing. The man would do anything you’d ask of him, no questions asked.
You look at him in all his glory, admiring every single inch of his skin. Your fingers travel to the waistband of his pyjama shorts, and your nails pull at it, trying to move them out of the way. With a tiny bit of help from him, you managed to discard of the clothing item right before your gaze falls back on him, and you nearly let a gasp escape you.
Perfectly girthy, one vein travels from the base of his cock all the way up to his leaking tip. Trimmed at the base, his happy trail travels up his lower stomach, and you can’t resist the urge to graze it with your nail — going from his belly all the way back to the base of his cock, where you gently grab him.
You bend down on top of him, and he doesn’t hesitate to capture your lips in a messy, desperate kiss. But you don’t allow him to enjoy your lips for too long, as they move down to travel on his jaw and across his chest, breath fanning over all the wet spots your lips leave behind. You finally stop your journey on his chest, where you playfully graze his nip with your teeth, while your eager hand gets back on his cock, squeezing his base lightly before travelling further down, making him grunt at the feeling.
“Stop,” He’s out of breath, and the sound of his voice — laced with desperation and lust — makes your walls throb around nothing, “Please,” He pleads, throwing his head back.
The image of him being totally at your mercy makes you feral, almost like you want to continue your ministrations just to get more out of him. But it’s too much even for you, at least for right now, so you take pity on both of you.
You bend down, kissing his tip quickly before you take him inside the warmth of your mouth.
“Fuck!” He bucks his hips up, “I don’t think you should do this,” He’s almost crying, and his hands go up to his head in order to grab strands of hair he can pull at.
But you ignore him. Flattening you tongue as you take all of him, you indulge in the pleasure of finally being able to suck him off. Salty and heavy on your tongue as you move your head up and down slowly, you moan around him, and for a moment you think Donghyuck is going to throw you off and away from himself.
You touch him one last time after you release his cock with a pop!, and he lands forcefully on his back once again.
“I think you’ll be the death of me,” He mumbles, breathlessly as he lays unmoving, waiting to catch his breath a bit. He’s painfully hard, tip still leaking with precum, but he raises his head when he feels you getting on top of him. “No,” He shakes his head, “Wanna taste you first,”
You feel like you could cry. You want to have him in all the ways possible, yet it’s becoming unbearable for you to be deprived of any proper friction.
“Maybe later,” You tell him, already sliding your panties down your legs, “I need to feel you inside of me,” You moan as you sit on him for a bit, and he swears he can feel your clit throbbing on top of his unmoving and hard shaft.
You align him at your entrance, throwing your soaked panties at his head — and he doesn’t even bother to catch them on time. They land on his face, and he only moves one hand to grab them and keep them close for just a tiny bit to be able to smell your scent.
His eyes become glossy the moment you sink down on him, painfully slowly, and he can’t help the moan that rumbles out of his chest.
“Fuck, fuck, baby,” He curses through gritted teeth, sucking his stomach in a few times, “I don’t think I can- I don’t think I’ll last,”
He overestimates your willpower right now, because he’s not aware that your insides are melting with lust and pleasure, feeling the need to feel him all the way deeply inside of you.
The moment you start undulating your hips, walls squeezing him deliciously, he looks down at where your bodies meet, and he can’t help himself from bringing his thumb so you can get off faster. You moan at the friction his thumb provides you every time your clit hits against it as you move your hips, and he swears the sounds you’re making are not helping his cause right now, already feeling like he’s on the verge of spilling inside of you.
Instead, his thumb does the right thing, and you reach your climax fast, surprising him. It comes in powerful, delightful waves that are prodding you to go on and continue your movements, and Donghyuck is too lost in the image of you climaxing on top of him to remember to take his thumb away from your sensitive clit.
Your thighs are burning, everything below the belt feels like it’s about to melt, but you stretch your hands up to his chest as your hips keep rocking on top of his. He’s speechless, he’s feeling too many things, especially because he’s been on the receiving end all the time, and this way he found it easier to get lost in all the pleasure he’s been feeling.
He raises his head a bit, in order to have a better look at you, and he opens his arms before his hands travel to your hips.
You bend down, teeth grazing his jaw before you remember something, and you smirk as you get right up. Your hand travels to his neck, hand wrapping around the sides of his throat and putting the right amount of pressure.
His eyes become the size of saucers as he looks up at you, trying his best not to let out all the moans catching in his throat.
You giggle, and the sound of it has Donghyuck throbbing, “What happened to my talkative puppy boy?” You pout, delighted at seeing him squirming.
The choice of words, your tone, your relentless riding, the pressure around his neck, and the way your walls are squeezing him too tightly, it all becomes too much for Donghyuck to bear, and you see him rolling his eyes back before he lets out the loudest moan from the pit of his ribcage — and that alone is enough to turn you on again.
But you give in, stopping your movements yet still keeping him inside of you, and you collapse on his chest. You’re too spent to keep yourself upright right now, and Donghyuck feels limp as he tries to gather his bearings.
You place your hand on his chest, drawing soothing circles as you wait for him to catch his breath, an you giggle when you hear him cursing. His sweaty skin sticks to yours, and he grabs your hand to bring it to his lips.
He keeps you close, he’s literally where he wants to be — with your weight on top of him, he feels like this is the safest and best place for him.
He raises his head, looking at your intertwined bodies, right before a stupid but spent smirk shows up on his face, “Given our last activity, I think I just proved to you that I don’t need deodorant,”
You smack his chest when you register his words, but giggle nonetheless because only Donghyuck could get to ruin a moment by bringing this nonsense up.
“Pervert,” You move on top of him just slightly, but it’s enough to make him suck air through his teeth.
He smirks, voice already raspy as he mumbles out loud, “Oh, you have no idea!”
AUTHOR'S NOTE: SPEAKING MY TRUTH: we need to see more of obsessed and pervert!hyuck around (◞‸◟,) thank you to everyone who has been patiently waiting for me to drop fics from this series! this series means a lot to me and im not planning to abandon it, in case you were wondering — it's just that i have to be in the right place with my creativity <3 i hope you enjoyed this one, and i'll see you babies for the next one! ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶ ꒱ྀིა
genre: figure skating AU, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, PR relationship/fake dating, speed skater!Jaemin x figure skater!reader, female identifying reader
warnings: light partying, a lil suggestive
playlist: true romance (pinkpantheress) | the perfect pair (beabadoobee) | prague (jack harlow) | with me (0WAVE) | next to me (JUNNY) | sexier (nct jnjm)
summary:
In the midst of a career comeback following a major injury, a reckless night cements your fall from grace as the Nation’s Skating Sweetheart. As everything comes crashing down, an opportunity presents itself: your childhood crush, Jaemin, proposes a PR relationship to support both of your returns to the skating world.
As your fabricated relationship throws you further into the spotlight, you’re not sure which is harder – redeeming your reputation, or trying not to fall for Na Jaemin all over again.
disclaimer: be warned that I'm not a skater but I tried my best LOLL also the nationality/country is kept vague intentionally, however I am American so be aware that some aspects of that culture might bleed through - ty!
taglist: @honeybeehorizon
When you step onto the ice, you think it might really be over.
It’s Nationals, which means that this is your last chance to make it. To prove, to everyone in the figure skating community, that you still have what it takes.
The pressure is on, especially since your childhood friend, Sunghoon, is dubbed the favorite within the men's program. You surpassed all expectations and are coming off an incredibly strong short program, which makes you the last one to leave it all on the ice.
You cross one skate over the other, gliding toward center ice. You lift your arms as you hear your name announced over the speakers. Through your nerves, like you’ve done a hundred times before, you flash a bright smile at the crowd. The only face you somehow manage to catch is Sunghoon’s that’s nearly pressed up against the glass. The rest are a blur, but it gives you some comfort to know there’s at least one person still rooting for you out there.
The first half of your program is hands down your favorite, as it features enough technical difficulty while allowing you to lean into your artistry. You hit your jump combinations flawlessly and execute the elements just the way you want. For the first time in years, your competitive spirit is confident. Unhindered.
Your fire carries you through the first half, until you feel a familiar fatigue pulling at your right hip.
Leading up to this season, almost all skating forums, live commentators, and journalists always positioned your narrative over one central detail: the fact that this is your first season back on the ice after an almost career-ending hip tear.
That was enough reason for you to skip over articles and most social media commentary—reliving your surgery, post-op, and shaky comeback through the eyes of other spectators was too much. You remembered the heartache and depression that manifested when you were injured as an Olympic hopeful, and you’d be damned if you let skeptics drag you back into that mindset. You deserve to be here. You are here to prove that you deserve to move forward.
You grit your teeth, fighting through your spins and pushing into each jump. It’s working until you realize what’s next.
An element highly contested by yourself and your coach was your last jump combination: the double axel, double toe, single loop jump wedged into the second half of your program for maximum point potential. It’s something you’d struggled to execute in the past, but it was a stretch for your recovering body post-injury.
Your coach is probably off to the side praying that you opt for an easier version of this combination, but you decide to press on.
Watch me, you think as you take off. Your entire face scrunches with the effort, but it pays off. You hit the double axel, and the adrenaline rush carries your momentum to hit the double toe as well. As you’re continuing into the last jump, your hip muscles pinch in sharp pain. You flinch, and the falter causes you to underrotate the last jump completely and land on two feet. At this point, it’s a miracle that you don’t fully eat shit in the process.
The crowd gasps. You recover your bearings just enough to finish out the program with somewhat convincing artistry. Your hip burns at the scar site, the muscle underneath fatigued and tender. When the crowd applauds, you skate off to the kiss and cry, trying to keep a smile steady as you hug your coach.
“At least you left it all out there,” he says. That’s his way of saying Not perfect, but it might do.
You force a neutral expression on your face as the camera focuses on your reaction. It’ll be close, especially since a good amount of the women had skated clean. To podium, you need a score close to your season’s best, so the question is obvious: did your mistake ruin your chances?
You fidget with the pink bunny plush from your childhood in your usual kiss and cry tradition. The audience pauses in anticipation, and you feel like you’re going to vomit. Then, you hear your total score.
You’ve done it by two measly points. By the skin of your teeth, you’re making it to the podium. You cry in front of the cameras, too shocked to hold in the sobs heaving from your chest.
❅˚
In your daze and general shock at medaling, you’re hyped up into attending an afterparty before you even know it. It’s hosted by the main sponsor of today’s competition, and you typically never like to go to things like this. Of all people, it’s Sunghoon who ultimately convinces you to go.
“We should celebrate both of our comebacks,” he says with a smile. “Plus, only other skaters will be there.”
It’s enough to get you out the door in the black dress you’d managed to pack in your carry on just in case.
You’re regretting it an hour in as Sunghoon’s pulled into conversation after conversation. He’s always had the larger network between the two of you, which leaves you sipping your drink in the corner as you avoid dragging down his conversations.
You’re feeling buzzed when you feel a tap on your shoulder and hear a familiar voice speak your name.
Your jaw drops to the floor. “Jaemin?”
For the first time in a year, Na Jaemin stands in front of you. He wears a suit that’s a little too formal for this event, but it somehow makes him even more handsome than you remember.
“It’s me,” he laughs.
“I thought this was for skaters only.”
“Ouch,” he pretends to be hurt. “Are you saying I’m not a skater?”
You roll your eyes. “A skater that actually competed today, Jaemin.”
“I know some people. Come on,” he grins. “Are you really that unhappy to see me?”
Along with Sunghoon, you’d grown up attending the same rink as Jaemin. Your trio had been three peas in a pod throughout skating school; you’d even trained as an ice dance pair together for a year until Jaemin and his family decided to specialize him into speed skating. From then on, to your dismay, interactions with him had been few and far in between with your conflicting schedules. The distance only grew as you moved from juniors to then seniors in your respective disciplines.
If Sunghoon was like your brother, Jaemin was the schoolyard crush that never quite faded away. Sure, you’d dated some guys here and there over the years, but any whispers of Jaemin dating sent you scrolling on Instagram in full investigation mode. Considering that he was considered an athlete-turned-influencer with his own fan base, you saw these rumors often.
Even so, you try to play it cool by taking a long sip of your drink. “Of course I’m glad to see you, but when was the last time you even laced up your skates?”
“Ah,” Jaemin shoots you a bright smile, although you can see the nerves peek through his facade as he hesitates. “Well…last week?”
“Last week?” You raise an eyebrow. “As in…you’re thinking about coming back?”
“It’s a work in progress,” he says with a wink.
“Hmm.” Your heart beats wildly in your chest.
He seizes your sarcasm to change the subject. “You look like you’re fully back out there, though.”
“Something like that.”
“Well, you podiumed, which is more than something.” He pauses for a beat before adding, “you looked really good out there.”
The knowledge of Jaemin watching your near-disastrous free skate sends hot embarrassment crawling up your neck.
“My lead from the short program saved my ass. It would’ve looked better if this,” you point to your bad hip, “would behave the way I want it to.”
He frowns. “It’s not fully recovered?”
“It is, but it’s not. Since I spent so much time off, the muscles on my right are weaker than my left, which sucks since my right is my landing leg.” You force a smile. “The road to full-strength recovery is long.”
“As always, you need to be nicer to yourself,” he sighs. “At least you kept Mr. Hops to comfort you in the kiss and cry.”
Your face burns even hotter. “I didn’t think you would remember him.”
Mr. Hops had been Jaemin’s gift to you for your tenth birthday. You’d taken the pink plushie for your first serious competition as a junior, and you’d continued taking him well into adulthood as a good luck charm. Your hip tear had occurred during a competition where you’d left Mr. Hops sitting in your hotel room, which, in your eyes, verified your long-standing superstition.
“Of course I remember,” he smiles wide. “I’m just glad you’ve gotten a bunch of mileage out of him.”
If the earth could open under your feet and swallow you whole, now would be the time. Not only does your childhood crush remember your pink bunny’s name, but he also knows that you’ve been hauling it around everywhere for at least the past decade.
“Well,” you clear your throat. “I think Mr. Hops and his well-traveled wisdom at least reduces the odds of me having a full mental breakdown.”
“You really didn’t need to worry about anything,” he insists. “Out of everyone, I think you were the most bea–”
“Jaemin!” Sunghoon calls. His face is flushed and his breath carries the trace smell of alcohol. “Guys! Everyone wants to drink!!”
You look at Jaemin wildly for help, but he shrugs in a way that conveys what am I supposed to do about it?
You’re pulled into the main group of fellow skaters that are much too drunk; one look at the three of you together has them hollering and forcing drinks into your hands in the name of reunion. You’re not used to partying, and you’re sure as hell not used to being the center of attention among your peers. Even during your prime, you’d preferred to hang around only a couple close friends after any competition.
The spotlight puts you in a vulnerable position to accept any and all drinks. You stay much later than expected, even when Jaemin offers to help you make a quick exit. You’re the most drunk you’ve ever been, both on the physical drinks as well as the atmosphere. Once you're dancing on a table with someone who you think is Cha Jun-hwan, the night is long gone.
The next morning you wake up to banging on the door of your hotel room. Running to the entrance, you peek through the peephole first, which reveals the livid face of your PR manager, Mei.
“God!” Thunk. “Wake up, already!” Thunk thunk.
Mei isn’t the most level headed person, but, even for her, it’s way too early to be this aggressive. Whatever it is, it’s serious.
You take a deep breath, trying to will away the hangover pounding in your head as you swing the door open. “Hey, Mei–”
“Don’t hey me.” She growls. Mei stalks around your room, sticking her head into your bathroom and closet. She only hesitates when peeking around the corner toward your bed then exhales in relief.
“What on earth is going on?” You ask in bewilderment, and your gut twists. The first thing that crosses your mind is that there must be some sort of serious scandal—a failed test for a controlled substance, maybe. You don't know what else would warrant this level of panic.
“Did you have anyone over last night?”
The question catches you so off guard that you nearly trip over your own feet as you follow her erratic path around your room. “What? No!”
Mei searches behind the curtains and even bends down to look under your bed. “Just reminding you that, as your PR manager, it’s to both of our advantages if you’re forthright about any indiscretions…”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You shriek. You didn’t need to hear this from someone who’s known you since your teen years.
Finally registering your genuine confusion, she squints at you. “...I thought you were ignoring me, but have you really not checked your phone at all today?”
Numbness cascades down your nerves. Your phone currently sits charging on your nightstand. “No?”
Your manager shakes her head and fishes out her laptop from her bag, placing it on the hotel dining table. The display immediately brightens into a gossip article published an hour ago.
ICE ROYALTY TO PARTY ANIMALS: A WILD NIGHT FOR THE NATION’S SWEETHEARTS
Your heart sinks low into your chest as you scroll through the contents of the article. It’s you, alright, down to last night’s little black dress while arm-in-arm with both Sunghoon and Jaemin. It’s you, leaving the car disheveled and dangerously close to a wardrobe malfunction. It’s unfortunately you, previous child prodigy, downing shots and dancing on the front page of one of the most popular gossip sites.
Shit, you think. Sunghoon must be freaking out. Jaemin, too.
While both men had gathered the nickname of Ice Prince, it was for entirely different reasons. Sunghoon carried the name for his public aloofness, while Jaemin's persona fulfilled the image of charismatic royalty.
While you’d long accepted the unfair scrutiny of being labeled a “controversial” female athlete, both Sunghoon and Jaemin ruled their private lives with an iron fist. Every post and press release was curated and picked through in order to protect their squeaky clean Ice Prince images–especially with the rising cult following of girls.
And you had messed it all up in one night.
“Was it worth it?” Mei snaps. “Did you have fun? Because it sure looks like it.”
Opening the full slideshow, almost every attendee from last night has been captured. However, the most prominent features are still yourself, Jaemin, and Sunghoon.
Wordlessly, Mei pulls up multiple social media sites, where all commentary centers on the three of you. Most old skating fans remember your friendship as a trio, but many new ones—particularly Jaemin’s new legion of followers—fixate on your presence.
did he fly out just to see her? they’re so together y’all
that picture of her on both of their arms makes me sick THAT SHOULD BE ME
embarrassing that her boyfriend had to witness such a mid program, she should retire already
You nudge the laptop so that you can no longer read the words on the screen. “I was not aware of this.”
“I see.” Mei thinks before gathering all of her things back into her bag. “Take some time to process this. Don’t make any statements to anyone yet. If you’re smart, you’ll turn off your social media notifications. We’ll talk.”
“Okay.” You’ve learned not to question her. She’s gotten you out of enough sticky situations. “I’m sorry, Mei.”
“This is just the beginning, kid,” Mei shoots you a pitying smile as she lets herself out. “Just get yourself ready for the storm that’s coming.”
❅˚
Mei gives you two days.
When she requests your presence at her office, you don’t protest. You get there ten minutes ahead of time and wait politely.
“I’m not going to yell at you,” she sighs when she sees your too-straight posture.
“Wouldn’t be unwarranted,” you mutter. “I shouldn’t have gotten swept up in the atmosphere.”
“As your manager, I agree.” Mei shoots you a look. “As someone who’s always telling you to enjoy your life—I’m glad you finally stopped punishing yourself.”
You tug with your sleeve without commenting.
Mei continues. “Obviously, you already posted the official statement that we sent over yesterday. Nothing else public on social media, aside from the official pictures we got from Nationals. After that—no posting for a while.”
You nod. It’s fair enough. You’d already gotten too many unsolicited comments from strangers. Notifications were decidedly turned off, and only the bravest of souls could field your direct messages.
“There’s been something else I’ve considered for this season,” Mei hesitates. “If you’re open to it.”
Alarm bells go off in your head. “Interviews? Variety content?”
“The ice show,” Mei says.
“Classics on Ice?” You frown. “Sunghoon and I were already planning on skating.”
“You’ll skate there, sure,” Mei says, “but now it’s more.”
“More as in…promotions? Volunteering?”
Your manager shakes her head. “Yes, benefit shows usually yield good coverage. It’s also an opportunity to showcase your relationships within the skating community. During and leading up to the event. Public perception and opinions are unavoidable, but I think if you’re seen out and about being friendly with respected athletes…”
You cringe at the implication: you are simply an athlete—not a respected one. “That’s a fine idea and all, but wouldn’t that harm those athletes? I’m friends with a lot of skaters, but those friendships are away from the cameras. Except Sunghoon.”
“Right. It would be out of the blue to suddenly hang out with skaters you’ve been training and competing against for years, especially with no public history.” She leans forward. “But if there was suddenly an old friend re-entering the community—maybe that would be believable?”
Your blood chills. You recall what Jaemin told you: it’s a work in progress.
“Jaemin?” You fight to push the words out. “Jaemin’s actually returning to skating?”
Mei nods. Her shoulders relax, perhaps relieved that she didn’t have to directly break the news. “His team is making the announcement at the end of the week.”
You’re happy for him—really, you are—but disappointment tugs at your gut. Why hadn’t he told you when you asked?
“So you want me to skate in this ice show and prove that I have at least two friends. Got it. I can do that.”
Mei’s expression twists. “One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“With Jaemin coming back into the skating world, and the rumors already circulating between the two of you…” Mei bites her lip. “His management reached out to discuss, and we came to the conclusion that showcasing a…closer relationship would likely be beneficial for both parties.”
It’s her pleading expression to not freak out that makes the last puzzle piece fall into place. “A PR romance? With Jaemin? How on earth would that benefit either of us? He’ll get angry fans, and I’ll get the angry fans’ death threats!”
“You don’t need to be over the top with it,” Mei’s waving both hands, which could be her attempt to calm you down or to enact a physical barrier from you. Maybe both. “Nothing crazy or formal—people already think you're dating! Just lean into the rumors. Hang out with or without Sunghoon. Jaemin is popular, but it’s common knowledge that you all were rink rats together. You’ll get some fan hate, but we see people overall getting really into it.”
You’re speechless. You run through the impending possibilities in your mind. Jaemin, back in your hometown. Seeing him in passing. Existing in the same sphere for the first time in years.
“I still don’t understand how that would benefit him,” you say.
Mei hums. “His team can explain it more.”
“His team?” Your stomach drops. “They’re coming here? Today?”
“Oh, no,” Mei says. “We’re grabbing lunch with them.”
–
Mei whisks you away in her car. You barely process that you're heading somewhere at all. When the car pulls up in front of the nicest restaurant in the city, you think, briefly, that you must be hallucinating this entire ordeal.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she scoffs as you stumble out of the passenger’s side.
You follow her lead, baffled at the long roman-style columns at the entrance and dim, ambient lighting. Inside, you can’t even tell that it’s daytime, let alone high noon.
You’ve walked through the interior for minutes before you make a sudden left turn into a more private section of the restaurant. There, at a table around the corner, sits Jaemin with his manager.
His manager rises to shake both your and Mei’s hands. “Jeff.”
“Nice to meet you,” you manage to say, although your throat scratches like sandpaper while speaking.
When Jaemin stands up to face you, your brain glitches on the protocol. Is it proper to shake hands with a childhood best friend, especially when you’re both portrayed on the front cover of tabloids together? When you just saw him a few nights ago, and he only hinted at a comeback? When his team is proposing a PR arrangement? Is a hug too casual for this heavy atmosphere?
“Hi.” You shoot him a pained smile and sit down to avoid confronting the issue entirely. Confusion flickers across his face, but he lowers back down into his seat.
Jeff immediately transitions into business. “Thank you for meeting us today. I hope Mei was able to explain our current situation, especially since the headlines have complicated things.”
Mei nods. “She’s aware. Obviously, we’ll have to be very intentional moving forward.”
Your gaze bounces between the two as they discuss details such as social media use and public outings. You try to catch Jaemin’s eye, but he pokes around at an appetizer on his plate.
You try to listen to their brainstorming of strategies, but you can only take so much before your curiosity gets the best of you. You blurt out to Jaemin directly. “What do you get out of this deal?”
Jaemin’s eyes widen, but he still jumps to speak, as if he’s been waiting for your permission to talk. “Well, I—”
“Jaemin wants to re-enter the skating world,” Jeff interjects. “This…relationship could renew interest in his previous success, since you’re very deeply linked with that time period.”
You frown, but you’re starting to get the picture. You’re sure that this morning’s article alone has most likely sent fans hunting for old skating footage. There’s even some old trio pictures still visible on both your and Sunghoon’s Instagram profiles.
You’ve also seen enough fragments of Jaemin’s fanbase online to know that a public girlfriend would likely alienate the most unhealthily attached fans.
Maybe that’s what someone like him needed to be taken seriously in the athletic world again, just like how you wish people would speak about your current skating and instead of the old.
“Anything else I should know? Any stipulations before I offer myself up as bait for one of the most viral athletes known for having crazy fans?”
Jaemin’s gaze shoots up at you in the corner of your eye. You ignore it as you glare down Mei and Jeff.
“There’s one thing our team is thinking of,” Jeff starts. He side eyes you as if you’re a wild animal ready to pounce. “The charity ice show you’re skating in.”
You raise an eyebrow. “What, they’re having a speed skating demo?”
Your sarcasm falls on deaf ears; if he picks up on it, Jeff doesn’t even flinch. “We’ve been told that both you and Jaemin trained together in ice dance before settling in your respective sports.”
Your jaw tightens. “No. I’m not committing to an ice dance routine. It’s way too late to be practicing for that.”
Mei says nothing, but she nods her head.
“As you wish.” Jeff seems unfazed. “We’ll find something else for Jaemin. If you change your mind, please let us know.”
“I won’t. I mean, I don’t foresee that changing, but we’ll let you know,” you hastily add after sensing Mei’s disapproval. “Thank you.”
Mei and Jeff dominate the discussion throughout lunch, and they’re still chatting as you all rise to leave your table. You find yourself in stride with Jaemin, who seems to be looking everywhere but you.
“So. You're moving back,” you say.
He turns towards you, surprised. “I am. I’m moving out of my old place next Monday.”
“So it was a work in progress, after all.” You try to keep your tone light, but it doesn’t prevent the sour edge in your voice from seeping through.
His expression twists with guilt. “I was going to tell you, but then things started moving too fast. I lost the opportunity. This relationship—PR situation—was not my idea.”
You don’t respond. Your ego stings; you’d asked him so many questions out of a genuine interest to catch up, and the whole while he'd held you at arm's length. Your teams concocted this plan, rather than talk it through first with you as a friend.
Jaemin searches your face. “What do you think of all of this?”
You think that you want to delete Instagram altogether, retire from skating, and tell everyone to stuff their clout-chasing proposals up their—
Really, you should calm down. You have to admit that you could benefit from this arrangement. Sure, there would be hate and an uptick in public interest in your private life, but Mei is right. After these headlines, you’re bound to receive more criticism anyway—maybe returning the focus to your oldest friends would remind the world of your younger self. Before all of the hardship. Nostalgia as a vehicle of empathy.
As for Jaemin, you’re not sure what to make of his sudden re-appearance in your life. Any giddiness is now tempered by the jaded realism of your position. Maybe knowing his true intentions is better for your working relationship, since, moving forward, you should be treating this as a professional arrangement.
“Let’s do it,” your laugh sounds harsh and flat. “What more do I have to lose, right?”
❅˚
Upon returning home, you’re allowed one day of sweet radio silence from any obligations. You mute almost all notifications and lose yourself in your favorite shows.
Then, Jaemin’s announcement drops, and all hell breaks loose.
The overall response shows widespread support for Jaemin’s return to speed skating. The speculation of his move, however, has everyone up in a flurry trying to figure out why. Technically, his city’s rink is superior in all of their facilities and amenities. His coach was based mainly in your rink, but he was so close to retirement and was open about only coaching Jaemin.
You’re not sure why he’s chosen to return here, either. From what you know, a large portion of speed skating training isn’t always in the rink, anyway.
Everyone online, however, is staunchly convinced that you must be the reason. You scroll past everything from pregnancy rumors to social media accounts posting threads surrounding the early “evidence” to prove the existence of this secret relationship. As far as your social media feed is concerned, you're practically married.
Half of it seems to be in good fun—a lot of supportive fans make jokes about finally glimpsing into Jaemin’s notoriously private life. The other half of it is not so fun, manifesting in hate comments and threatening direct messages that trigger you to crack down on your account privacy.
Hey, Jaemin texts you after you temporarily set your Instagram to private. You okay?
You don’t respond. Something stubborn and petty wants to double down . So what if you got photographed drinking with friends? Was society really so fucked up that you had to put in work to protect your peace while both of the ice princes got off scot-free?
When you pull your car into the rink parking lot to a couple of flashing cameras, you know that the answer is undoubtedly yes. You’d hoped for a serene first practice back, but you anticipate Jaemin’s presence before you even open the door.
In fact, he’s literally on the other side, sitting at one of the benches between the back entrance and the ice.
Jaemin stands when he sees you. “Hey, good morning—”
You cut to the chase. “What do you want, Jaem?”
“I just thought I’d say hi before your practice,” he says. He seems encouraged by your use of his old nickname; you make a mental note to avoid using it again.
“You got up at the ass crack of dawn to send me off to practice?”
“Uh—no?” Jaemin points over his shoulder. “I’m doing some strength training first in the gym, then I’ll take over the ice for some light stuff after you.”
“Alright then,” you say. You step past him and continue on. “See you.”
“Will I?”
You turn around. “Will you what?”
“Will I see you soon?” Jaemin studies you. “You’re not answering my texts.”
“There’s nothing in our contractthat requires me to text you back,” you point out. You’re all too familiar with the terms and conditions, as you reviewed and signed the paperwork in the days prior. “I can talk to Mei to put a staged outing on the calendar.”
“No.” He exhales and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m trying to say that we should actually do something together. No calendars, no managers. Definitely no cameras.”
You frown. “Why would we do that?”
“Because we’re friends?” There’s a slight gravel to Jaemin's voice. He’s losing his patience with you, and you’re relishing in it.
“We were friends,” you say. Your grip on your duffel bag tightens. “I thought we were still friends up until Nationals. Before you wanted to use our friendship for notoriety.”
“We can still be friends through this,” he says. “It’s not one or the other. And I told you, this wasn’t my idea.”
You sigh. If he’s going to be so persistent about this, you might as well be direct. “Let me be clear. I hate this arrangement. I’m only doing it because Mei thinks it’s a good idea, I trust her, and for once I’d love for people to stop betting against my skating. That’s it. I’m not doing this because we’re friends. That was pretty much ruined once the paperwork was signed.”
Jaemin opens his mouth to argue, but he’s cut off by a voice from the other side of the rink.
“Hey!” Your coach shouts. “That’s a whole lot of talking and not a lot of warming up.”
You give Jaemin your fakest smile. “You heard the man. Have a good work out, Jaemin.”
You put your all into practice to clear your mind. It’s hard, but the determination to stand on your words keeps your focus razor sharp.
When you’re wiping your blades down and stowing away your things, you think that’s the end of it. Then, you hear the sound of the doors to the ice shutting. You straighten your back and peek through the glass.
Jaemin’s already set up a series of small cones that you assume must be to simulate the short track path. He skates around in long, fluid circles.
Your throat catches. He’s always been so beautiful on the ice. Sure, speed and power were par for the course with speed skating, but his edge control and maneuvers are so finely tuned that you're impressed. Even after all these years, Jaemin still looks like a top athlete.
Jaemin’s skates scrape across the ice as he stops. As if he has a sixth sense for your presence, he turns his gaze towards you. He nods, then, after a moment, raises his hand in a wave.
You turn away and stuff your last remaining item into your duffel. You don’t look back as you leave.
Over the next few weeks, your encounters with Jaemin go more or less the same. He waits to greet you in the morning, and you shut him down every time. You’re not sure what he aims to achieve by waiting it out— you’ve made yourself quite clear—but nevertheless he seems to show up day after day, morning after morning.
Until one day, he doesn’t. When you march through the rink one morning, you’re not met with Jaemin but by an old man that you haven’t seen in a very long time.
You start and nearly drop your bag. “Coach Brown?”
Coach Brown’s smile lines spread over his entire face. While he’s gotten older, you haven’t forgotten the kindness that your childhood coach exudes. “I had to come by now that the three musketeers are back under this roof.”
You laugh, but it’s held taut by guilt. “It’s definitely an unexpected development.”
The old man’s eyes gleam with amusement. “Although the three of you are in a bit of a rut, aren’t you?”
Your palms sweat. “You saw Jaemin this morning?”
“Just ten minutes ago,” Coach Brown shrugs. Then, his expression darkens. “You know, the worst thing you could do is turn your back on your past.”
You blink. “Sorry? What did Jaemin—”
“Sunghoon,” he waves you off before continuing. “It’s been explained to me that you are…less than enthused about the situation, but you still should treat your peers with respect. Carving out a path for yourself doesn’t mean you need to block out the others.”
“Coach—” You can’t even fully process his sentence before he cuts you off again.
“You’ve always had the worst temper of the three,” Coach Brown wags his finger in your face. “Calm yourself down and face it like an adult.”
As fast as he came around, he marches away and disappears through the doors leading up to management’s office.
You stare after him long after the doors close, dazed. You feel twelve-years-old again, getting nagged at to be nice to the boys.
After your training ends a bit early, you happen to catch Jaemin as he puts on his skates. “Morning,” you say.
Jaemin’s head whips up so fast that he swings too far back and bumps his head against the back of the boards. “Oh shit—hey?”
“I saw Coach Brown this morning,” you say.
He brightens. “Me too. I hope I’m half as active as him when I’m that age.”
You don’t respond, instead searching his features and body language for any dishonesty. It’s a stare-off—you, chewing on your lip and Jaemin, confused and massaging the back of his head.
That’s it, you admit to yourself. He didn’t tell Coach Brown anything.
And admittedly—both from the open hope in Jaemin’s expression and your shame from being nagged at—perhaps the old man was right about some things, after all.
“Would you be free to grab lunch tomorrow?” You ask before you change your mind. “There’s a new ramen place that opened up last weekend—”
“Yes!” He answers before you’ve fully finished your sentence. “I know which one you’re talking about. I can pick you up?”
“Oh—uh—that’s okay, I think.”
Jaemin shakes his head. “You’re on the way, let me do it.”
Your jaw tightens, but you swallow your pride. “Sure. Noon?”
He nods without saying anything. The two of you stare at each other.
“Well,” you break the awkward silence first. “Have a good practice.”
“You too.” Jaemin cringes. “I mean, shit, have a good day. See you tomorrow.”
At that, you turn away.
Take that, Coach Brown, you think. Look whose temper is adequately controlled.
❅˚
Twenty minutes before noon, you nearly jump out of your skin when there’s a knock at the door.
You rake over your appearance in the mirror and make desperate last-minute touch-ups. Sure, it's just lunch, but you were never sure when a rogue camera might snap pictures of you in public. The paparazzi had ceased showing up outside of the rink after the first two days, but the initial onslaught had left you paranoid of any flash or loud chatter.
“You’re early,” you say as you open the door, a little breathless.
Sunghoon blinks back at you. “I am?”
It’s your turn to stare. “Sunghoon. Why are you here?”
Regardless of your confusion, you step aside to let him in. As always, Sunghoon makes himself comfortable on your living room couch. “I was bored. Wanna get lunch?”
“About that.” You cross your arms. “Jaemin is picking me up in fifteen minutes.”
Sunghoon’s eyebrows raise. “You finally decided to stop hating him?”
“I don’t hate him—” you fume. “I still disagree with how he went about things, but I might have just gotten a little too mad.”
Your friend snorts and mumbles something under his breath.
“What?” You punch his arm.
“Ow!” Sunghoon swats away your swings. “I said big surprise—clearly you’re the most hotheaded one out of all of us.
“Brown said the same thing,” you mutter.
Sunghoon pauses. “Isn’t it a little crazy that people are just letting him go right back to work? Right after his surgery, too.”
You shrug. “He seemed healthy enough to lecture me about Jaemin. He said I had the worst temper out of us three.”
He smirks. “Wow. The old man needed to get involved to get your head out of your ass.”
“And who tipped him off in the first place?”
“And who with the worst temper gave me this red mark on my arm just now?”
Touche. “Anyways,” you change the subject. “Wanna go with us?”
“Um,” Sunghoon grimaces. “Not if it’s going to be awkward.”
“It won’t be,” you insist. You shoot out a quick text to Jaemin: Sunghoon randomly showed up at my place. Mind if he comes?
Within thirty seconds, your phone vibrates again. Of course. The more the merrier, it says.
“See,” you hand your phone to him. “Jaemin doesn’t care.”
“He’s not in the position to object,” Sunghoon laughs. “From that wall of text? This is clearly the first time you’ve texted him in weeks. He’s probably just saying yes so that you don’t change your mind and run away.”
You roll your eyes. “So you’re not coming?”
“I didn’t say that,” Sunghoon says. "I'm hungry."
You would’ve been more nervous about merging the group if you’d known about Sunghoon’s intrusion beforehand, but it works out well for the car ride over. Jaemin and Sunghoon seem to pick up right where they put their friendship down.
Their conversation goes from topic to topic, but your mind is reeling. It’s too easy, riding as a passenger in Jaemin’s old car, to feel like you’re a teenager again.
The new ramen place is tucked away in a plaza constructed in the last two years. It’s still finding its niche—the only other businesses in the center are a pharmacy and a dollar store—and the ramen place is the most exciting thing to have happened to it.
“Oof,” Sunghoon says as you approach the shop. From the outside, you can see that there’s only a handful of people inside. “Is that too awkward?”
Jaemin steps forward. “It’s not empty.” He swings the door open before any of you can think about it further.
Jaemin and Sunghoon are full steam ahead with their conversations. You’re jealous, in a way. Both of them have so much natural charisma that it overflows into all their interactions. On the other hand, you feel like you always have to work for it.
You all end up ordering different things from the menu. You’re halfway through observing the interior decor when you realize the rest of the table has gone silent.
“So…” Jaemin says. He leans his head into his hand. “How’s it been?”
“How’s it been?” You repeat.
“Since Nationals,” Jaemin clarifies.
Sunghoon stiffens in the corner of your vision. You try to level your facial expression.
“I mean,” you can’t help the wry smile rising to your face. “I deleted social media from my phone. Mei’s posting for me so I don’t have to see the hate. I’m avoiding the news outlets for the same exact reason."
Jaemin swallows. “Right.”
“What about you?” It’s as much as a way to change the topic as it is genuine curiosity. “How are your fans taking the return announcement?”
“Mostly well,” he admits. “Older fans are excited. Younger fans are confused but trying to be supportive, which I appreciate.”
The elephant in the room goes unaddressed. You saw the comments before officially deciding to hand the reins over to Mei. You know for a fact that there were rumors on top of rumors swirling around your connection to both Jaemin and Sunghoon.
“I delete all of the hate comments,” Sunghoon says as if reading your mind. “Just for my own peace of mind, really. I can’t stand seeing that shit on my page.”
“You should try filtering words,” Jaemin suggests. “That’s helped diffuse some of it for me.”
You frown. While you can tell that both have good intentions, it doesn’t make you feel any better. In fact, it’s worse—you feel like a taboo to hide from the world, despite your status as a well-known figure in the skating world.
“You don’t have to delete or filter anything.” You feel a deep sense of resoluteness. “Let them talk.”
The guys exchange glances. “Sure, people will talk,” Jaemin says. “Doesn’t mean you need to entertain seeing it.”
You shrug, looking between the two as your bowls of ramen are placed in the table space in front of you. “Filtering out words won’t stop them. We’ll just give them something to talk about before they move on.”
Jaemin’s smile curls. A hint of his teeth pokes through. “What do you suggest we do to make them talk?”
You think for a moment before holding your phone in the air with a shake of your hand. “Pose for me?”
❅˚
After that first lunch, talking to Jaemin gets easier. You chat briefly whenever you run into each other at the rink, and sometimes you grab a post-practice coffee if your schedules line up. You don’t text, but Jaemin sends a few skating memes after you log back into Instagram—a cautious way to test the water.
“What’s your goal with coming back?” You ask during one brunch after training.
Jaemin’s eyebrows raise, but he doesn’t lose his easy smile. “My goal?”
“I mean—” you scramble to find the right words. Hell, you should think before speaking sometimes. “Why decide to come back now? You have so many opportunities outside of skating.”
Skaters who would kill for his following. Not many people would intentionally halt their own momentum, let alone actively endanger it with a fake relationship.
Jaemin leans back in his chair. “Why did you come back? After your injury?”
“Rude. I asked first.” Regardless, you think out loud. “No one’s actually asked me why. Everyone just assumed that I would try to come back after I was ready.”
“Would you have, even if they hadn’t assumed?” He asks.
“Yes,” you say without hesitating.
“Why?”
“It’s not what people would expect from me,” you start. “I knew it was going to be a long road to any sort of podium, and I didn’t even expect to get there at all. I came back…to see if I could, I guess. Skating has just been such a big part of my life; I wasn't ready to give it up.”
Jaemin’s smile brightens. “That’s my answer too.”
“Uh…” You bite your lip. “It’s not that I don’t admire you for coming back, but you weren’t injured. You left first.”
“I did.” Jaemin thinks for a moment. “When I quit, I genuinely thought that skating had nothing more to offer me. But the more time passed, the more I realized that something was missing.”
This is the most you’ve ever heard him talk about his choice to leave. He had never spoken about it outside of the initial press statement, and he’d all but disappeared from the community after. “What made you realize something was missing?”
“Ah, you know.” Jaemin scratches the back of his head. “Just intuition.”
You stare at him. “You came back after years based on some magical intuition? Right out of thin air?”
His cheeks turn pink. “What’s wrong with trusting your intuition?”
“Just seems too good to be true, I guess.” You take a long sip of your drink. “Ignore me. I’m a pessimist nowadays.”
Silence. Then, Jaemin speaks up again. “If you have to know, I saw some old footage. I got the urge to get on the ice, so I did. Casually skating didn’t feel like it was enough. I felt the pull to do everything—compete the right way, by coming home and reconnecting with everyone.”
It’s like his dark eyes are looking through you and your thoughts.
You think back to the months following your injury. In the darkest moments when you considered giving up skating for good, it always led to reminiscing via old videos. Everything from old competition footage to videos of you messing around with the other kids—sometimes it was your last anchor to hope. More than the nostalgia interwoven in the past, you craved to perform again.
“I know exactly what you mean,” you smile, then hesitate. “I’m glad you’re back.”
The seriousness melts away. He wiggles his eyebrows. “Mean it?”
You snort. “Forget it.”
“Too late,” Jaemin points to his temples. “It’s already saved here. No camera needed.”
❅˚
You push on your bike, fighting for your life to pedal to the music while trying to follow the spin instructor’s directions. Beads of sweat roll down your skin, and your throat feels dry.
You sneak a glance at Jaemin. The bastard looks like he’s barely breaking a sweat. In fact, if it he wasn't right next to you, anyone could easily mistake him as the instructor.
He leans toward your bike. “Are you doing okay?”
“I have decent cardio!” You pant over the bass-loaded music. “I’m fine!”
You sound so not fine that Jaemin throws his head back in laughter.
“You two in the back!” The instructor calls out. “Less talking, more pedaling!”
There were only so many cafes close to the rink to try, so working out together is your most recent attempt at activities together. Jaemin insisted that it’s valuable cross-training for your respective sports—you’re not sure that you agree with the sentiment for your discipline, but it’s a nice supplement to your training schedule.
“What did you think about that instructor?” Jaemin asks as he holds the door open for you.
You snort. “Too intense and too much bass boosting.”
Your phone vibrates with texts and phone calls. You don’t even flinch as you start blocking and reporting the unknown callers.
“Wow, you’re popular,” Jaemin jokes while he backs out of his parking spot.
You don’t say anything. There’s no use in dragging Jaemin into it; not when there’s nothing to be done. At the very least, you appreciate that Jaemin always offers to drive.
“Can I ask you something?” Jaemin asks as he pulls up to your place.
“No,” you laugh before registering the nervousness creeping in on his expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Well,” Jaemin clears his throat. “Remember when my team brought up performing an ice dance together at that benefit show?”
“I do.”
“I know that it wasn’t brought up in a very good way.” Jaemin’s eyes flit around your face. “But do you think there’s any part of you that would be open to reconsidering that decision?”
The question makes you freeze. “Why?”
“My team won’t let up about it. I keep telling them that there’s really no need for me to participate…”
He’s continuing into some sort of explanation, but you’re hung up on the first part of his sentence. Sure, Mei and Jeff had been the catalyst for your reunion, but something about the mention of my team douses you as a cold reminder. In the midst of early morning rides and deep conversations over brunch, you’d forgotten that this was all manufactured.
“Our agreement ends right after the ice show, right?” You ask.
He nods. “But it’s just the official clause—of course, I want to—”
“Can you please tell your team that I will not be entertaining this notion again?” You reach for the door.
“Wait, stop. What did I say?” Jaemin’s climbing out of the car too, and a high pitch beeps over and over as he abandons the driver’s seat.
“Maybe I’m just tired,” you huff. “I see you almost every day, and I’m still training. Am I supposed to be all happy-go-lucky all the time? It’s not like we’re friends.”
Jaemin physically recoils. “This again? We are friends.”
“I hadn’t talked to you in years before you decided to come back,” you state matter-of-factly. “We’re bound by a contract. We’re not friends, Jaemin. We’re coworkers.”
You turn on your heel and walk towards your place.
“So that’s how it’s going to be?” Jaemin calls after you. “You just get to say your piece and storm off?”
You face him. “Go on, then. What do you want to say?”
He stands there for a minute, and his face flashes through a chain of expressions. Jaemin opens his mouth to speak but then closes it again. He shakes his head before shutting himself back in his car. The tires squeak against the asphalt as he drives away.
You pace around your house in angry circles. You should feel better, but instead you generate new reasons to be mad at him. Aside from the contractual nature of your arrangement, didn’t he understand that interfering with your art was an entirely different matter? You could go on a million fake dates and post content on social media, but your time on the ice is the only thing that’s truly yours.
You’re halfway through rage-cleaning your kitchen when your screen lights up with Jaemin’s name. You ignore it, but then Sunghoon calls second, then Mei calls next.
You choose to call Sunghoon back, ready to defend your outburst, but your stomach plummets when you pick up the phone to Sunghoon sniffling.
All your anger dissipates into fear. “What happened?”
“Coach Brown collapsed today,” he rasps. “They're not sure if he's going to make it.”
❅˚
Mei and Jeff sit at the front of the conference room. Mei openly observes you and Jaemin. Jaemin sits scrolling on his phone with the hood of his jacket pulled over his head. You cross your arms and try to look anywhere else.
Mei and Jeff review the last month in social media posts and general media coverage. You nod to yourself without listening—they always say the same things anyway: good reception, decent reach, more posting if possible. Today’s presentation is much shorter than expected, with no concrete dates to post strategic content.
You take it as a sign to leave and grab your bag. Jaemin moves as well, putting his phone into his pocket.
“I’m sure you both are worried about Coach Brown,” Mei says suddenly.
You both freeze in place. Your eyes dart to Jaemin, to gauge his reaction, but he’s already looking at you.
You had thought about texting Jaemin a million times since the news broke. You’d checked in on Sunghoon, but he was the type of person to hold things in until later down the line. You didn’t want to push him too hard, since you’re sure that he’s hurting just as much as you.
Looking at the glassiness of Jaemin’s eyes, you’re certain that he’s thought about reaching out to you, too.
“He'll fight through it,” your voice croaks against the silence. “He was a great man.”
“The greatest,” Jaemin says without taking his eyes off of you.
“This may feel a little premature, but the foundation reached out,” Mei prefaces. “They’re having part of the ice show's proceeds go directly to Coach Brown’s family. They asked to confirm if both of you—and Sunghoon, of course—are still planning on participating?”
“Of course,” you answer.
“Are they sure they still want all of us?” Jaemin asks. “I’m not competing in figure skating or ice dance.”
Mei shrugs. “You were in talks before, but I’m guessing it’s because the three of you are his most prominent students. Of course, you went to speed skating eventually, but you were still under him for the entirety of your juniors career.”
Jaemin nods to himself. “It’s relatively short, right?”
Mei hesitates. “Well, I’m not quite sure of the hard details—”
Jaemin shakes his head. “It doesn’t really matter. I’m in. I’ll figure it out.”
“We can skate together.”
It’s like the entire room has forgotten about your attendance; all three heads snap toward you, eyes wide.
“You want to?” Mei’s eyebrows climb to her hairline. “Now?”
That’s not exactly a great vote of confidence, but you persist nonetheless. “It’s going to help Coach Brown and his family. It’s as simple as that.”
“Will that be okay to prepare for?” Jaemin blurts out. “While you’re training for everything else, I mean.”
You shrug. “Sunghoon’s also competing.”
“It’s just a lot to balance.”
You stare at him. You’re flush with irritation, but you manage to keep your voice level as you respond. “I’ll manage.”
“Well,” Jeff interjects. He clears his throat loudly and moves to disconnect his computer from the room's screen. “That should be more than enough for today. We’ll both be in touch for details on the exhibition, but our next meeting should be in two weeks as usual.”
“Thanks, Jeff,” you drone as you gather your bag and exit.
You’re not even halfway down the stairwell when a hand latches onto your elbow.
“Wait,” Jaemin rasps. “Talk to me. Five minutes. Please.”
He’s panting like he’s run a mile. You nod. “What is it?”
“You don’t need to say yes, you know.” Jaemin says. “I wouldn’t blame you if you just wanted to work on your own program right now.”
You bristle. “Are you going to ask Sunghoon the same question?”
Jaemin leans his weight against the stairwell railing. “One day we’re laughing and talking about anything and everything, and then the next day you’re telling me that we’re not friends. One day you draw the hard boundary that we will never perform together, and then now you’re willing to. Why are you so upset with me?”
“I’m willing only for the sake of Coach Brown.” Your restrained and rational side snaps. You talk a step forward into Jaemin’s personal space. “I’ve been mad, Jaem. I’ve been pissed since you made your stupid announcement to come back to our rink—some of your crazy fans have found my real phone number, did you know that?”
He's speechless.
You continue. “Ever since coming back from my injury, I can’t do anything right. If I talk about my mental health as an athlete, I’m seen as complaining. If I can’t land a jump? I’m washed up. If my makeup is looking a little off on competition day? My age is showing, and I should feel lucky that someone so old can still compete. People hate me so much that it’s my best PR strategy to become someone’s hated girlfriend, because the new hate is considered an improvement from my old hate.”
“I didn’t know you were being harassed on your personal number,” he mutters.
“And why would you?” You scoff. “It doesn’t matter that we used to know each other, okay? Even though everyone down to Coach Brown wants us to be so close—”
“Coach Brown said something to you before?” Jaemin leans in, which makes you take a step back.
“Well, kinda—”
“Please,” he begs. Desperation lines his eyes. “Tell me what you talked about. I could barely catch him here because of my odd hours, let alone talk to him. I regret that more than anything.”
Your anger wanes. You feel a flash of pity followed by a stark reminder of your surroundings—what were you doing, yelling at Jaemin in a stairwell?
You wrack your brain for a white lie, but nothing comes up on the spot. You’ve already exposed it anyway, so you might as well tell the truth. “He told me to control my temper and stop being mad at you for nothing.”
You expect something like a snarky comment, but Jaemin just looks surprised. “He knew it’s fake?”
You shrug. “I didn’t tell him anything. He either knows us too well or heard something through the grapevine. Or he heard me yelling at you and put two and two together.”
Jaemin snorts, but he doesn’t respond.
You shift uncomfortably. “That was pretty much it. He said the worst thing I could do was turn my back on my past.”
Jaemin pauses for a long time before speaking. “Can I say something to you? No Mei, no Jeff, no social media?”
Your heart feels stuck in your throat. You swallow thickly. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.” His gaze burns through you. “I should’ve talked to you more during and after Nationals. I definitely should’ve warned you about the batshit plan our agents were making—I know that probably made you lose trust in me instantly.”
Jaemin glances at you, no doubt expecting some sort of correction or flash of emotion, but you remain silent. He continues: “I know it’s stupid, but they presented me with possible options for a PR relationship — it was going to happen regardless to acclimate the public to my return to skating. They suggested you last, but I think I agreed too fast. I should’ve talked to you before my team made contact with yours.”
Your mind swims with the new information. A laugh slips from your throat without realizing it. “I think I might’ve been the worst choice possible.”
He reddens. “Coach Brown gave me the idea, if I’m being honest.”
Your stomach drops. “What do you mean?”
“I ran into him here while practicing. Before everything, and before I officially planned to come back.” He admits. “I was venting to him about the concept of a PR relationship—I promise you I didn’t want to—and he started to rehash his past troubles with the media.”
“He got mad when Sunghoon got coverage about his real high school girlfriend,” you recall. “He would’ve lost his mind at a fake one.”
“He didn’t say anything weird,” Jaemin shrugs. “Just a hypothetical: ‘wouldn’t it be nice if someone you feel comfortable with could stand in, instead of doing something like that with a stranger.’”
What was it that Coach Brown had said to you? You should be grateful that he’s someone you feel comfortable around.
The edges of your mouth curl into a bittersweet smile. “That bastard.”
Jaemin smiles back, and your heart flips.
Coach Brown had essentially influenced this entire production. The realization causes tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. “Jaemin—”
“I should've talked to him more.” His eye grow misty. “I fucked up. I should’ve spent time with him, instead of focusing on all of the drama.”
You twitch forward, but you stop yourself short of hugging him. You pat his back in slow taps while holding back your own tears. “It’s not your fault. None of us knew that this would happen.”
He stiffens at your touch. “You don’t need to comfort me, you know. I know you hate me.”
Your stomach drops. “I never hated you, Jaemin. I was just hurt—it felt like you were using me.”
Once you speak it, you know it to be the truth. Try as you might, you could never hate Jaemin. Even if given away ten years ago, you know that he will always hold part of your heart.
“That was never my intention,” he whispers. “I know it’s hard to believe.”
“I see that now,” you acknowledge. “I’ve been an asshole, Jaem. I want to start over. ”
Jaemin sniffs back his remaining tears. He offers you a weak smile. “I’d like that.”
You reach towards him with your hand. “Friends?”
His hand closes over yours, only to pull you forward into a big hug. “Friends. Always.”
Your hands rise from your sides and travel up his back. You squeeze him tight. “Always. I’m sorry it took me so long to remember.”
“One, two, three, turn, two, three—” your choreographer, Maci, counts your steps with a patient tone.
You focus on your footwork. You’re still practicing without music; it’s just Maci’s voice mixed with your shoes squeaking against the floor. You extend your right arm behind you in a soft sweep, and you imagine it making a perfect line with your posture.
Instead, your tricep sticks against something soft yet clammy.
“Mmph—” Jaemin grunts behind you. “That’s my face.”
You stop and wipe your arm. “Sweaty.”
In sync, you both walk to the edge of the room to chug your water.
Practice for the ice show was truly underway, and you all had spent the last week learning choreography off ice. You and Sunghoon had quickly picked up on your routines for your individual portions. Sunghoon would do his routine completely by himself, as he would for any normal exhibition. You, however, would split yours into two: one minute by yourself, then one minute with Jaemin.
It wasn’t a complete disaster, but you were picking it up together slower than either of you anticipated. Jaemin struggled to lead, while you would misjudge your distance and step on his foot—or, in this case, slap him with your tricep.
“I might as well not be there,” Jaemin jokes with you during water breaks. “What happened to all of our training?”
“Our ice dance training from nearly ten years ago?”
“I think you legitimately forget that Jaemin is there if you don’t see him,” Sunghoon observes from the back. Although he almost always finishes before you, he tends to stick around. “You should skate with a rearview mirror.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Actually…” Maci looks lost in thought before nodding her head. “You have a point.”
You gape at her. “You think I need a rearview mirror?”
“Of course not,” she says. Noticeably, Sunghoon deflates slightly in his corner. “I just meant that he has a point…somewhere in there. You guys are taking up completely different spaces”
You both blink at her.
She rolls her eyes, then taps through her phone. A classic waltz plays over the small speakers overhead. “Dance in hold. Just a basic waltz, please.”
Jaemin grins and bows deeply. He extends a hand toward you. “May I have this dance?”
“Corny,” you groan while taking his hand with your right. You straighten your posture and bring your other hand to hold onto his bicep. Likewise, his right hand tucks over your shoulder blade. You’re both glistening with sweat, but you feel goosebumps raise where his hand glides over your skin.
The music continues to play overhead, but neither of you move. Jaemin waits another two measures before leading you across the floor. It’s a simple waltz, but you feel hyperaware of every movement, big and small. You swear Jaemin’s fingers tighten where your hands are clasped together.
“There you go!” Maci calls out.
Right when you’re thinking that’s a green light to call it, she shouts out again. “Now hold eye contact!”
You look up, ready to break the silence with a joke, but your smile drops when you see Jaemin's eyes. They’re dark and captivating—that much hasn’t changed—but there’s an undercurrent of something else that leaves you paralyzed. You nearly forget to breathe, as you have to focus all of your attention on matching his steps.
“How does this pace feel?” He asks while holding eye contact. There’s a ghost of a smirk.
Your heart races so fast that you can’t hear the music over your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “It’s a great pace. Feels good.”
You only realize the innuendo after it’s too late. Your face heats as he laughs at you.
“Alright!” Maci shouts out. “First run through of the partner section with the music! I’ll count you off.”
You start alone in the center of the floor with your arms extended, since that’ll be your position on the ice once your solo wraps up. Similar to how it will be on the ice, you don’t see Jaemin as he approaches; his hands rest on your waist first.
Your heartbeat instantly spikes; you’re unsure if it’s due to the contact or the adrenaline.
You brace your core as he lifts you and turns the two of you in a slight spin.
We’re really doing this, you realize as you extend through the lift. It’s a little wobbly—both of your faults, you think—but you get through it. Jaemin lowers you back onto your feet. Even though the landing is a little rough, a lift is a lift.
You turn out to face each other. Jaemin extends his arm toward you. His features are bright and confident, as if teasing you to come closer. For a split second, it reminds you of the easy stage presence he always carried as a performer.
You take his hand and continue with the rest of the routine. As this is an exhibition show and your dance together is an homage to Coach Brown, all of the elements within this showcase are mostly basic in nature. Sure, you both can tackle the various step sequences with a languid artistry not intuitive to non-skaters, but it’s nowhere close enough in difficulty to a competition program.
“You’re thinking too much,” Jaemin murmurs through a spin.
“I’m worried we’ll look silly,” you say as you part.
“No worrying when we’re dancing,” he says. “Just think about me.”
You do. You hold eye contact throughout the remainder of the step sequence, and all your thoughts revolve around him. His positioning—should you adjust a bit so you’re a little closer? You even focus on how your lines are extending towards him. Mostly technical things, but above all—Jaemin is like the sun, pulling everything towards him, and you can’t help but be swept into his orbit.
Your last element is a stationary lift where Jaemin anchors you by your waist and legs to hold you horizontally. Your entrance works, his hand grips your waist, but you flinch the second his other hand grabs your inner thigh.
“Oof—” your lower half drops to the ground, although Jaemin’s hold on your torso is enough to prevent full impact. “Thanks.”
For the first time, you glance around at your audience. Sunghoon looks away and scratches the back of his neck. Maci’s cheeks tinge with pink as she frantically reaches to stop the music.
“What’s wrong?” You ask with a frown as Jaemin pulls you to your feet. “Did it look bad?”
“No, uh—” Maci claps her hands together in light, awkward taps. She clears her throat. “It’s like you never left, Jaemin.”
“You guys are going to get questions about this routine for the rest of your lives,” Sunghoon snorts. “But it’ll get the donations going.”
Jaemin releases his hold on your hand. You flex it thoughtfully; you hadn’t realized that you hadn’t let go.
You look at your dance partner, but Jaemin’s expression tightens into something unreadable. “Yup, great for charity.”
Your day continues as usual—more individual runthroughs, a snack after practice, and mindless chats with your little group. But when you sleep that night, parsing through your day, you can’t shake the phantom feeling of his hand in yours.
❅˚
“I have to ask you a question,” Sunghoon says before you even have the chance to shut the passenger door.
You blink at him through sleepy eyes. “Right now? It’s 5am.”
Sunghoon puts the car into drive and heads in the direction of Jaemin’s apartment.
“So?” Your crankiness asks. “What’s your question—?”
“Do you have feelings for Jaemin?”
“Uh,” you’re genuinely at a loss for words. “Are we talking about currently, or when we were in middle school?”
He doesn’t respond. There’s not even any music playing in the car, so you squirm in your seat against the silence.
You clear your throat. “Why are you asking?”
“Because the two of you look like you’re ready to jump each other at any moment.”
“Ew, Hoon.”
"You're also acting different." Sunghoon gives you a look. “You would’ve already told me if it was anyone else.”
You break eye contact. Dancing with Jaemin again had asserted one thing: you could not deny your physical attraction to him. The chemistry overflowed, even when you watched practice footage back. Sure, he’s always been your type, but his face had grown more handsome and his body more chiseled into adulthood.
When it came to your emotional connection to him, however, your feelings are a big, jumbled mess. Becoming close again has been easy, but something in the air lingers between you two. It's difficult to differentiate the layers of physical attraction, nostalgia, and genuine fondness. How could you explain the complexities to Sunghoon when you barely understood them yourself?
“It’s just partner chemistry and the tone of our routine.” You groan. “Calm down.”
Sunghoon glares at you as he pulls into Jaemin’s apartment complex. He doesn’t respond, but his expression is crystal clear: I’m going to ask you about this again.
“Good morning,” Jaemin sings as he enters the car. “You guys are grumpier than usual.”
You and Sunghoon exchange a look; when he pointedly looks back at the road without a word, you figure he’s leaving any explanation to you.
You cross your arms. “You’re five minutes late.”
Jaemin snorts. “Touche.”
The rest of the drive is quiet. The heater in Sunghoon’s car fights against the cold air outside, but you pull your jacket around you nonetheless.
Starting today, the two of you are practicing your routine for the show on the actual ice. While the cast was just formally announced last week, the post had generated buzz almost immediately. All the marketing team had to do was put the list of names in their caption, and the internet did the rest. After all, what other opportunity would there be to watch the Na Jaemin skate outside of his discipline?
You’re happy that the show guaranteed to have a sold out audience and likely record breaking fundraising. It’s the whole reason why you both chose to participate in the first place, but you’d underestimated the pressure that came with it.
“You’ll finish your section with a spin,” Maci says as she walks you through the last of your solo steps. “And that is where Jaemin will come in.”
“Finally! I’m here!” Jaemin chimes in.
Both you and Sunghoon roll your eyes.
“Let’s see how many of the skills you remember,” you say as you catch your breath.
“I’ll tell the instructors to save a spot for you in Basic 1,” Sunghoon adds on. "You can learn how to skate with those new ice dance boots you bought."
Jaemin flips both of you off.
You step onto the bench while Sunghoon skates away to run through his third of the program.
You scroll through your phone as Sunghoon starts his routine. It’s not as if you don’t respect his skating; on the contrary, you never miss a performance. You just tune in for the big moments, which means that you don’t have to be as alert for these initial sessions.
While you’re nonchalant, Jaemin can’t tear his eyes away.
“If you told me ten years ago that he would be this graceful, I wouldn’t believe you,” the words fall out half under his breath.
You laugh. “Feed that line to the press.”
Jaemin’s eyes flit to yours. “You wouldn’t.”
You raise your hands into the air. “Kidding. I know exactly what you mean.”
From the beginning, Sunghoon had taken the most time to progress. All three of you had been considered advanced for your age group, but you and Jaemin had always been ahead of the curve.
Now, your friend was known for his focus on artistic elements; in many ways, you felt like he truly embodied the emotions of the characters he was portraying. You’d found that element of skating more difficult after your injury—you’d never been that good of an actor in the first place, and post-accident you didn’t find yourself that invested in pretending to be someone else.
“Do you ever regret not sticking with figure skating or ice dance?” You find yourself asking.
He shrugs. “Hard to say since we’ll never know my real potential. Although I did like the acting aspect of portraying a character.”
“So speed skating still has your heart,” you laugh. “Has it at least been worth diving back into it for a little bit? The theatrics of it all?”
Jaemin turns to you. He doesn’t smile at all, and his tone is dead serious. “It is. I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world.”
Your body hums in response from your heart down to your stomach. “Why’s that?”
He pauses. Then, without breaking eye contact, he smiles and leans in toward you. “What do you think?”
Jaemin smells faintly of oranges. Your head spins at the proximity. You can’t come up with something witty, even if you wanted to. “I–”
At the same time, Sunghoon loses his footing and falls to the ice with an oof. Both of your heads whip towards your friend, who rises and wipes the ice off of his clothes.
“You good?” You half-shout toward your friend.
He shoots you a thumbs up in response before continuing.
Jaemin gazes at you, but you’ve lost your nerve.
“It’s nice to be here with both of you again,” you say as you unlock your phone and sit back down. “It’s as if you never left.”
“Me too,” Jaemin says softly. “It’s just like old times.”
❅˚
It’s three weeks before the show. You rush to the rink alone this time to fit a makeup practice into your and Jaemin’s busy schedules. You groan internally knowing that it falls on your rest day, but the practice is needed. Between both of your training schedules, you had to take the free moments when they come.
You pick up coffees on the way. It’s the first time you’ve driven to practice by yourself in a week, and your nerves rise as you drive closer and closer.
There shouldn’t be anything to be nervous about. Sure, you and Jaemin still have parts of your routine to work on, but progress has been smooth up to this point.
You’re unable to shake off the feeling as you arrive thirty minutes early. You turn off your car and linger in the driver’s seat. You have two options: scroll on your phone in the car or head in early. The latter wouldn’t make sense under normal circumstances—if Jaemin wasn’t practicing.
You glance at the two drinks sitting in your cupholders. Surely there’s no harm in peeking?
You exit the car, both drinks in hand, before you can change your mind. You enter the rink with a sheepish energy, although you’re doing absolutely nothing wrong.
Jaemin’s alternating through basic circle skills. His coach watches at the sideline with a stopwatch in one hand and a phone recording the drill in its entirety from a stand.
More than the difficulty of speed skating itself, you can’t believe that Jaemin has been balancing it alongside the training for the gala. Not only are the skates completely different, but the main mechanics require raw power and endurance. Much different from the slower, technical precision of ice dance.
Despite no spins or jumps, he makes it look graceful. You make a mental note to attend his first competition. You could watch him skate forever, regardless of discipline.
Jaemin’s coach calls him in, reviewing the footage and giving feedback. His expression is neutral, and Jaemin merely nods and repeats the drill each time. It goes on that way until the end of his practice time.
You wave as Jaemin exits off the ice and down the ramp toward you. He blinks, and his steps stutter for a moment before he continues.
“Morning,” you avoid eye contact as you hold out his iced coffee. He hadn’t noticed you during his practice, but you feel shy nonetheless. “Got here a little early.”
“Oh,” Jaemin grimaces. “So you saw all that?”
“What do you mean?” You ask. “I thought you looked great.”
He scoffs. He focuses on something distant over your shoulder. “I don’t know if I would describe it as great.”
You’re at a loss for words. The scenario feels familiar—hell, you’d gotten this way during practice for your solo exhibition—but you don’t have enough technical knowledge of speed skating to immediately understand what happened. Beyond that, it’s rare to see Jaemin so quiet.
Your expression must be comically transparent, because you watch his eyes lock to yours and register your wide stare.
“Sorry, you just caught me at a weird practice,” he clears his throat. “I’ll be ready in fifteen?”
The gesture does little to settle you, but you manage your own uneasy smile. “Take your time. I’ll warm up.”
You’ve never been more grateful for the familiarity of center ice. You run through a quick warmup routine and even squeeze in a couple rough rehearsals of your solo routine for the show.
“Looks good,” Jaemin says as he finally steps onto the ice. “I almost feel bad to make you split your program in half.”
“You’re not making me do anything.” You frown. After everything the two of you have been through to get to this point, his sudden minimization makes you worry.
“Well, you know,” he says, alternating between the inner and outer edges of his blades in small swizzles.
“No, I don’t know,” you shake your head stubbornly. You glide in front of him without breaking eye contact. “I’m doing this because I want to. I want to skate with you.”
It’s the most forward you’ve been, but his expression doesn’t budge. Instead, he just nods. “Shall we?”
The two of you run through the routine a few times, but it’s as though the last few weeks have been for nothing. No matter how many times you restart or run through the counts slowly, the two of you struggle to sync. Rather—you know you’re hitting your movements, but Jaemin merely seems to be going through the motions.
When his hold on you wobbles on the ending pose, you snap yourself out of his arms and huff. “Okay, seriously. We’re done for today. Let’s go.”
Of all things, that seems to wake Jaemin from his daze. He skates after you. “Wait, I’m just off today—”
You ignore him, stepping off of the ice and into your skate guards. You briefly turn around to catch his eye.
Jaemin’s hovering on the ice by the door, watching you. His eyes plead.
You wave your arm towards you in a come here gesture. His face brightens, and he hurriedly follows after you.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes out when he’s close to you.
You shake your head. “Wanna get lunch?”
-
You stare at each other from across the table.
“You first,” you point to Jaemin’s burger, which has arrived at your table first. “Don’t wait for me.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m excited to eat, but,” Jaemin crosses his arms. “Do you have to stare at me?”
You say nothing even as the server brings your own food over.
Jaemin sighs but starts eating nonetheless. “Happy?”
“Yes,” you say as you pick at your fries.
“If this is a way to make sure I’m eating, I don’t have issues with dieting while competing,” he mutters between bites. “Luckily.”
“Trust me, it’s not about that,” you laugh. “I know you can eat.”
He raises an eyebrow. “So then…?”
“You were just super out of it today,” you shrug. “You’ve been training pretty intensely this week, right?”
He frowns. “I have, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Compared to the work schedule I was doing before coming back to skating, it’s more or less the same.”
You point a fry at him accusingly. “There. That’s the issue.”
“That I work?”
“That you’re not taking time to not work.”
“No offense,” the words come out slowly, “but aren’t you, like, famously known for never taking breaks?”
You shake your head. “That was pre-injury me. Current me takes breaks. I have hobbies.”
“I have hobbies,” he insists.
“That you’ve invested in recently?” You ask. "Actively?"
He hesitates. “So what, burger eating is supposed to be my next hobby? I don’t struggle with diets, but that one might be hard.”
“Ha ha,” you say flatly. “I just wanted to get you away from training. You love burgers.”
Jaemin looks down at his burger, as if the sandwich itself has betrayed him. “I do,” he sighs. “You don’t need to baby me. I’m a grown man.”
“I know,” you say, looking away. “I just wanted to get your mind off of everything. You’re doing a lot.”
A small silence stretches between you. You can feel Jaemin’s gaze probing over your side profile, but you pretend to look around the restaurant.
“Do you still like bingsu?”
“I–” Jaemin’s smile is bright as day, and, more importantly, it’s genuine. You relax“I do.”
“Wanna go to the cafe near Sunghoon’s place?”
You exhale a relieved breath. “That sounds amazing.”
❅˚
“Quick break?” Jaemin pants after a full run through of your routine.
You simply nod, trying to catch your own breath. The two of you skate to the side without a word.
You pull out your phone. Mei’s sent you three images over text with a short question—Received all the photos for promo. You sure you’re okay with the team using these?
As a part of promotional material for the ice show, all three of you—Sunghoon, Jaemin, and yourself—had submitted throwback pictures to be posted by the official account.
Your picture depicted five-year-old you at your very first skating lesson—pink puffer and helmet in full display. It’s one of your favorites.
Sunghoon’s picture, to your surprise, has both of you in it. It must be from middle school, since you’re dressed in costuming from your first and final pairs competition together.
“What the hell?” Your jaw drops as you inspect the image. Jaemin glances over your shoulder, and you turn your phone to show him. “This is the last thing I would’ve expected him to send. I don’t think I even have any pictures of us from that era.”
Jaemin laughs. “Maybe since they asked Sunghoon for something from middle school? He was complaining about it. They asked me for elementary school pictures, so I had it easy.”
Sure enough, the last picture shows the three of you after a group private lesson together. Jaemin’s in the center smiling wide and bright. Sunghoon’s smile is reserved and slightly awkward to Jaemin’s right. You, on the opposite side, cling to Jaemin’s side in a big hug with an even bigger smile.
There it is. A wave of shyness. “I don’t think I have this one either.”
“It’s my favorite.”
“It feels like forever ago.” Your throat constricts as you speak.
“It’s certainly been a long time since then,” Jaemin says. His eyes are glued to the picture of the three of you. His lips soften into a smile.
“I can’t believe Sunghoon and I thought we could be partners,” you cough and wrinkle your nose. “I don’t think his arm strength would’ve kept up. And we would’ve killed each other.”
It’s as if Jaemin doesn’t hear you. “Do you wanna hear something funny?”
“Does it involve that one time Sunghoon dropped me on the ice, your mom took me to urgent care, and then that incident single-handedly made me quit pairs?”
“No, but that’s good.” Jaemin’s smile still floats on his face with a hint of mischievousness, like he’s keeping a secret.
“What is it, then?”
“I used to be so jealous of Sunghoon,” he laughs. “And look at us now, practicing the choreography for an exhibition performance as partners.”
Your mind goes blank. “Jealous? Why?”
He seems to snap out of his reverie at your question, expression growing a little shy. He shrugs “Well, you know.”
“Um, no, I don’t know.”
“Well, childhood crushes and all that,” he says quickly. He queues up the music on his phone. “So jealous over random things. Anyway, ready to practice the second half?”
He skates away to put his phone down on the ledge and start the music before you can respond. What he hasn’t calculated is that he will need to skate right back to you to practice the step sequence. Two can play at this game.
“Funny you say that,” you mutter as he takes your hand. “Considering my childhood self would’ve killed to be paired with you.”
He swallows thickly. You can tell he’s trying to tune into the music, but his steps are half a beat off. “Meaning?”
You’re not going to make it that easy for him. “Same thing that you meant.”
The step sequence is naturally push-and-pull as Jaemin leads you through each stroke and turn, but today it feels like something more: a balance of power.
“We were partners before,” he murmurs before his hands anchor on your hips to guide you into a synchronized spin.
“Briefly,” you say once you complete it. “But I was devastated when you quit altogether. I would’ve done anything to keep skating with you.”
You maintain eye contact through the remainder of this practice. There’s a charged feeling in every movement, every touch. Even when the steps call for distance, you feel the inevitable pull to come back together. In fact, it never feels close enough.
The two of you slide into a stop at the end of your choreography, but you keep staring at each other long after the song has ended. Jaemin’s brown eyes roam your features hungrily, until his gaze settles on your lips.
Jaemin's going to kiss you.
Time slows. The rink lights overhead make your eyes water, and your mind resurfaces into a complete blank. There's not much choice otherwise—not with his lips nearing yours.
You close your eyes, trembling from your head to your blades as your heart rattles against your ribcage.
Lips graze against your cheek. Gentle hands drift onto your cheeks after.
Your eyelids flutter open. Jaemin's face hovers in front of yours. His features flush in a soft pink, but his eyes seem to droop. The corners of his lips quiver up in a sad half-smile.
"Not now," he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Sorry."
You come to your senses as he skates away, blinking around at your surroundings, as if you've woken up from a long sleep.
No words are exchanged as you both grab your things and exit. It's hardly mumbles of goodbye before going your separate ways.
You slam the car door closed and exist in the silence.
Although it just occurred, you're already winding back the events and weighing what could've been done differently.
You should've demanded answers; pushed him away and left in a storm. Or, maybe, you should've done the opposite—allowed all of your real emotions to sweep and pull at your face.
In actuality, you have no real confidence in the efficacy of either. You just hate the way it ended: neutral, as if you're two strangers rather than friends pushing at something more—not that you had the faintest idea of what. Just…something.
Even later that night, the exact details blur together, feeling more like a hallucination more than a memory. Had you made it up in your head? No, Jaemin was definitely flirting with you. Again. But Jaemin flirted with everyone—well, no, it does feel different when Jaemin flirts with you. Tender.
The moment replays over and over again, trapped within your thoughts. You try to sleep, but your mind is too busy fixing itself on the minute details: how his hands felt around you, the soft brush of Jaemin's lips against your skin.
All of your previous confidence feels like it evaporated from your body. All that filled your mind at the time was the near-aching urge to unleash your pent-up feelings. There had been absolutely no regard for the meaning afterwards, not that it mattered—he pulled away anyway. A wisp of a rejection.
If it happened, would it have even meant anything? You muse to yourself as you trace the lines of your ceiling. It could totally have just been harmless flirting.
For yourself, you know there's only one answer. You're well beyond dismissing your behavior with Jaemin as remnants of an old crush. Still, you wonder when they turned into more, as you can't pinpoint when they intensified. It's as if these new feelings could consume the old ones in their entirety.
You wonder if this newfound hunger will ever be satiated. This is more time than you could've imagined spending with Na Jaemin, but it never feels like enough.
You wonder if Jaemin is thinking of you half as much as you're thinking of him right now.
The thought barely fades when, like a sick, cosmic joke, your phone vibrates on your nightstand. Na Jaemin flashes on the screen.
You lunge for it and straighten your posture, clearing your throat and sliding a finger across the screen to answer. "Hey. What's up?"
"Hey," Jaemin says. "Did you see the group chat? What do you think?"
"Uh, no. I didn't see it," you admit. "What's up?"
"Coach Brown's wife asked if we want to visit him. Since he was cleared to finish his recovery at home."
"Oh—yeah, of course." The words come out rushed. It's as if you're speaking with a mouth filled with cotton balls. "I'm down."
"Cool."
"Are…are we all going?" You ask, then immediately regret it.
"Yes, of course." A pause. "I can take you tomorrow. Since we'll be going after the team meeting."
"Team meeting—?" Ah. The meeting with Mei and Jeff. "Right—yeah, we can carpool. If you don't mind."
"I don't," he says. "I'll pick you up at 1:30?"
"Sounds good."
"About today," Jaemin blurts out. "I'm sorry."
You slouch and close your eyes. "Sorry for what exactly, Jaem?"
"Well—we almost—you know." It's the most you've ever heard him stumble over his words. You would kill to see what flustered looks like brushed over his face. "Right?"
"So you're sorry that we almost kissed." The words flatten as you speak.
"God—can we talk? After our meeting? Or after we visit Coach Brown?"
Stress laces through his tone. Your heart sinks. "Of course."
Jaemin waits for a beat, but you refuse to give in. You don't want to have this conversation over the phone either, and he already offered.
"Good night, Jaemin," you offer.
"…Good night," he murmurs. "Sleep well."
You toss your phone back on the nightstand and cover yourself with the blankets. After that, you're in for the most restless sleep of your life.
"Last alignment meeting," Jaemin says on the way in. "Ready to do this thing?"
You force a smile. Not only are you reeling after a grand total of four hours of sleep, but the car ride over had been little more than dull niceties. "Something along those lines."
He frowns, but you pick up your pace and barrel inside.
Jaemin ends up drifting towards Jeff, although he looks over his shoulder at you.
You shrug and sit at the other end of the table, waiting for Mei to arrive.
Jaemin and Jeff huddle at the front of the table, gesturing and whispering among themselves. They only snap to attention when Mei strides in and shuts the door closed with extra force.
"Good afternoon," Jeff greets with his usual professionalism.
Mei and Jeff jump into reviewing the analytics from the last month. It lives up to your expectations; ever since the ice show announcements and promos ran, it was like someone hit a switch. You—according to sources, since you still avoided social media like the plague—were showing up less in search inquiries. If you were, then content leaned more supportive.
Still, looking at the cold hard numbers, it's clear that Jaemin's growth is unstoppable. Your followers grew by nearly triple, sure, but his total follower count still runs laps around yours.
"I think fans are just grateful to see you so active," Mei explains.
You steal a glance at Jaemin. His face gives away nothing. He looks like a statue, his expression carved in fierce stoicism.
By all metrics, both of your social media profiles look healthier than ever. Buzz has calmed down, and, by some miracle, your "relationship" appears to be accepted by the general public.
"In my opinion—we'll wrap with the ice show, both parties can post the photos from the event, and I think the performance will speak for itself!" For someone so corporate, Jeff looks downright giddy.
You and Mei meet his enthusiasm with tempered applause. Jaemin doesn't even look up.
"Well, there is one matter we should discuss, now that we're at the tail end of things." Jeff's voice turns into the poised tone you're familiar with. "When to announce the breakup."
It shouldn't have this much of an effect on you—it's a fake relationship, after all!—but your body stiffens on its own. You cross your arms over your chest.
You expect Jeff to defer to Mei, but he clears his throat to continue.
"A development that we will not be officially announcing anytime soon…Jaemin is planning on moving back to his old rink."
Your eyes snap to Jaemin. He's already looking at you, assessing your every minute reaction.
"His current coach divulged that he's moving up his retirement timeline. Jaemin's going to add his new coach onto his official team as support for now, then he'll make the hard switch next season."
The same sad glimmer from yesterday shines in his eyes. You understand in an instant—he knew it, even then.
"We're thinking, to leverage the speed skating season, we'll have Jaemin withdraw significantly from posting on social media. That way, breakup rumors and potential fallout can be addressed outside of the season for both sports."
"So no official announcement," Mei muses. "Just a fizzle out."
Jeff nods. "Just a fizzle."
"We'll discuss." Mei glances at you in the corner of her eye, so quick you almost miss it. "For now, we'll just aim to keep social media normal following the show."
You don't want to discuss it. You want to eject yourself from this meeting and dash under the covers, but today is not an option. Not when you, Jaemin, and Sunghoon have a scheduled visit with Coach Brown.
"Ready?" Jaemin asks after the meeting wraps.
You nod without a word and follow him to his car.
"I know you're mad," Jaemin rushes through his words right when your door closes. "Let me explain."
"No need," you say while pulling the seatbelt tight across your torso. "I think Jeff gave us the appropriate context. You're switching coaches, so you already decided to leave."
He runs a hand through his hair. "It's really not my choice. I didn't expect this at all."
You shrug. "Things happen."
Jaemin glances at you, but you train your gaze ahead. "Are you mad because—"
You cut him off. "This isn't a guessing game. It's either you have something to say, or you say nothing."
Jaemin's temper is rarely put to the test, but today you come very close: clenched jaw, sharp brows.
"You know what?" He says. "We'll just talk after we see Coach Brown."
"Fine by me."
Jaemin starts the ignition and snaps the gears into reverse. As both of you have decided there's nothing to say, you spend the entire car ride in pointed silence.
"It's so sweet of you kids to come out here and visit him," Mrs. Brown leaves a bowl of fruit on the center of the table. Not even thirty seconds later, she's back with pretzels. Thirty seconds after that, cookies.
"That's all right, Cynthia," Coach Brown chuckles. "You're going to scare the poor things off."
You, Jaemin, and Sunghoon sit shoulder-to-shoulder on the coach with small smiles. Sunghoon, with his endless generosity, insisted that Jaemin sit in the middle. You initially wanted to strangle Sunghoon, but you also can't help but be hyperaware of Jaemin's muscles pressing into your own.
Despite the current weirdness between two-thirds of you, this was something that didn't need to be discussed at all. Although, sitting here, you and Sunghoon fiddle with your hands and squirm a little in the heavy atmosphere. In situations like this, it's difficult to know the right things to say.
Jaemin leans forward, stands up, and shuffles over to Coach Brown's bedside. "You gotta look at this, coach," he laughs.
While you and Sunghoon sit glued to the couch, the whispers of what you want to say lodged firmly in your throats, Jaemin chatters on like it's just another day.
You feel a flash of pride. Then hurt.
How was it so easy for him to go about and act as though nothing affected him?
You shake the thoughts from your head. This isn't about you.
The three of you relax more through the visit, although Mrs. Brown gently cuts it short to allow Coach Brown to rest.
You all wave goodbye and promise to come again, then you're standing in the parking lot, hovering by your cars.
You're about to ask Sunghoon to drive you when he speaks first. "Jaemin, you can take her back, right? I have something else after this that I already committed to."
The bastard is lying; you know for a fact he's playing nothing but video games tonight. He meets your eyes and grins.
Your welcome, he mouths, none the wiser.
You roll your eyes.
"Yeah, I was going to take her anyway," Jaemin says, shooting you a suspicious side glance.
The two of you say bye to Sunghoon and step back into Jaemin's car. Instead of saying anything, he turns the music up until the bass reverberates the entire car. You spend the drive listening to bass boosted music and wonder if he's lost his mind. Still, you tolerate it—until he takes a couple wrong turns.
"What the hell are you doing?" You try to shout, but the music drowns out your words.
He doesn't even glance at you. You realize, scanning the horizon, that he's driving you to the park nearest to your house. Jaemin pulls into a spot, turning to you when he turns off the engine.
"Want to go on a walk and talk?"
You've often driven past your local park on weekends, swarming with families and soccer games, but today, on a random weekend evening, it's peaceful. The sunset just barely kisses the horizon, blending shades of orange and pink across the sky.
Jaemin walks at your side in shorts and a gray sweatshirt. His hoodie's pulled up, and you're wearing one of his baseball caps over your head.
You walk side-by-side for a while, kicking rocks down the pavement.
After a while, he finally speaks first. "I'm sorry for not telling you directly about the move."
You stiffen. Your legs are still in motion, but your movements feel robotic. Yeah, you'd wanted him to figure it out on his own, but you weren't expecting him to actually know so fast.
Your surprise must show, because Jaemin then clicks his tongue and exhales. "Whew. That must've really pissed you off, if you're that surprised that I got it right."
You find your voice. "Yeah. I didn't love hearing about it through your team. Again."
He winces. "I know. I told him not to mention it, but he kinda went a little rogue there."
"No." You shake your head. "It's not just that aspect of it."
Confusion. "Then…?"
You shrug and throw your arms up. "I wish you told me yourself, Jaemin. No team. Not because you need to tell me in the name of the contract. I wanted you to tell me, face to face, friend to friend."
His jaw drops. "I—"
"I thought we've grown since the start." You hate how your voice trembles. "You knew how upset I was when this started, but you went ahead and did the same exact thing. No mention of these deliberations, even when I see you every day. It's like I mean nothing—"
A shadow crosses his face. "Don't finish that sentence," he snaps.
The two of you are stopped in the furthermost part of the path by a cluster of trees, hidden in the corner from the rest of the park-goers.
You poke a finger into his chest with each word. "I. Mean. Nothing. To—"
It all happens in one swift motion. Jaemin grabs your wrist before you can poke him again, then he tugs you wholly into his chest. His eyes flash before he crashes his lips onto yours.
Your first kiss with Jaemin is the opposite of your near-kiss; from the beginning, you collide, rough and wild, pushing against the other.
This is what you missed out on; it could've just been like this at the rink, too. The realization fuels another flash of irritation paired with a slight thrill. Kissing Jaemin gives you the same rush as competing. Pure adrenaline and dopamine override your senses.
All you can think about is his lips on yours. From the way he pulls you close, hands firmly placed on your back and hips, you know he's equally as lost.
More, you think. The urge completes the thought you've pushed back for months: regardless of the extensive time you've spent together, it will never feel like enough. Down to the level of comfort, the silent understanding, and now the physicality—in this moment, you never want to let Jaemin go.
Probing, you swipe your tongue across his lower lip. He hesitates, easing the pace into slow rhythms. It's not an outright denial—you try again, this time lightly nibbling.
"Alright," he pulls away and presses his forehead to yours as you both catch your breath. "That's enough."
"You started it," you huff with a laugh.
He laughs, then scans around your surroundings. It's not the smartest thing, but there's no one around now, at least.
You lean back in, but he shakes his head. "Can we just…talk?"
He sits down on the closest bench and gestures next to him. You follow.
"I'm sorry for not telling you. It was true though—I wanted you to hear it from me."
You bite your lip. "I believe you."
"I'm sorry for…doing that, too. Just now," he adds.
The relief evaporates immediately. "And you're sorry about…what, exactly?" You ask coolly.
He pales. "I—"
"No more beating around the bush, or going through our teams," you say. "Just tell me what you're thinking please. I think I deserve the truth."
Jaemin thinks for a minute, then grins. "I have feelings for you."
"Jesus, Jaem—" Your whole body feels like it's burning up and smoking into the evening sky.
"What?" He shrugs. "I wanted to just get that out in the open, before you start getting ideas that you don't mean anything to me."
He gives you a pointed look. You stick your tongue out at him.
"I'll say that too. You mean a lot to me."
"I get it," you grumble. His charm has completely disarmed you. "You mean a lot to me too."
His smile shines bright and blinding, even against dusk. "I'll be here for this season before moving, then I'll be three hours away. I still want to give us a try. We can try to make it work even through our schedules."
Even through the warmth of his confession, a cold dose of reality hits you when reminded of your own impending training. "Jaemin…that might get a little crazy, don't you think? Training schedules are one thing, but competition and travel are another."
"I want to go to your competitions," he declares. "At least a good amount of them. I want people to see me supporting you."
You should be happy—after all, Jaemin's discarding his notorious privacy—but the thought of the general public remaining permanent witnesses to your private life makes your stomach coil. Your mind leaps to the worst possibility—what if you flopped next season? Would you retire, disgraced? Would they talk about you online—Na Jaemin's girlfriend, a washed-up skater anchored to him by memories?
"Even if your girlfriend doesn't reach the same legend status?" You ask with a bitter smile.
Jaemin deflates. "You've had a great career."
There it is: had.
You sigh. "Can I think about it?"
"Why?" He demands.
"I just—I want to think about it Jaemin, jeez! One day you don't want to kiss me, the next day you're kissing me and telling me that you want to be together—it's a lot."
"You wanted me to be open and honest," he says quietly. "So I'm leaving it all out there."
He's right. You're being a massive hypocrite, and he's presenting everything that you've wanted right there.
Even with the perfect man offering you everything, you can't shake the rotten doubt that it's too good to be true. You'll ruin what you have, just like you've ruined everything else.
"I mean, I've said it before, but I still think that my image benefited from this arrangement more than yours."
"Come on," he says, hugging you from behind. "You know I don't care about that stuff. "
"I know." You lean back into his chest. It's almost easier to speak openly when you're not looking directly at him. "It's just…when I think about it—really try to think about it—I don't know how everything's supposed to fit together. Once we both go back to training full-time."
His hug on you loosens a little, although you feel his shoulders tighten. "Like…you don't know where I fit into your life after this?"
"No," you respond, then hesitate. "It's like…"
That was the thing—for all of the time you'd spent out of the other's orbit, it was now hard to picture your life without Jaemin's presence. You could see the possibilities laid out clearly: going to his competitions or watching them online if you were out of town. Calling him before your events to calm your nerves, then calling him again after to debrief.
Undoubtedly, Jaemin brought the levity into your life that had been missing for years. But when you tried to conjure your role in his life, your mind drew a big, looming blank.
"I just don't know how I'm going to fit in your life, Jaem," you admit, your voice low and quiet. "We're so different. You're a success that's able to just climb and climb, and I've been struggling for the past five years. I don't know if I belong in your world."
His voice drops. "It's the same world."
"You know I don't mean literally." You untangle your limbs and turn to face him.
Jaemin's lips tighten into a straight line that's neither a smile nor a frown. There's the slightest crease bending between his eyebrows.
Your chest constricts at the sight, and you struggle to breathe. More than the sadness pooling in his features, there's something worse under the surface: disappointment.
You open and close your mouth, forgetting your words, but Jaemin speaks first.
"Do you know you have a tell when you jump?" He says.
"I—excuse me?"
"It has nothing to do with your speed, or even your technique right as you load into it," his eyes turn fiery. "I can tell if you're going to land it based on your expression alone. When you're about to land it, you get this cute, determined scrunch across your whole face. When you're about to pop it or mess up the landing, you get this scared look in your eyes. Like you're about to cry, even before you take off."
"So what?" You manage to choke up. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"You're giving me the same face right now, babe." Jaemin looks tired. "You look like you don't believe in this at all."
"I just need time."
"Then you can have it."
Silence stretches and expands between you. You hate this. You want to grab his hand and tell him that everything is going to be okay, but you can't make promises that you're not sure you can keep. You're hurting both of you in the process, but you can't stop.
"I just need time," you repeat, a broken record. "After the show?"
"Okay. We'll talk about it then." You see it cross his face again. Disappointment, disappointment, disappointment. "Let me take you home."
You finish the final touches of your makeup. You take a deep breath.
You're wearing the same dress from your Nationals free program. The ice blue fabric clings to your torso before flowing down your legs in sweeping waves.
You'd selected this dress for the show shortly after Nationals concluded—it was one of your favorites, and you hadn't been in the mindset to pursue a new look on a tight timeline, anyway—but you feel a brief flash of regret.
Dressed like this, it's impossible to not think about the last time you wore this dress. What started as yet another sad stamp in your fractured career pivoted to so much more. Your near-catastrophic failure of a program turned comeback, followed by the return of Jaemin into your personal life.
You pick up your phone, thinking to text Jaemin your revelation, only to remember and put it back down again. You'd left for the rink without checking whether he'd extend an offer to carpool or, at minimum, reach out at all to clear the air. He didn't—now, your first time seeing him today would be within the next thirty minutes, right before your show together.
A deep urge digs at your gut. You want to march right into the room you're mostly sure Jaemin's getting ready in with Sunghoon, drag him out, and demand answers. That, despite everything, he hasn't given up on you.
It's just an instinct. You lean back in your chair and close your eyes. A deep breath.
As you are choosing to handle this maturely (which rules out marching into his dressing room), you brace yourself for what's bound to be your first encounter: your off-ice warm up.
You've shown up ten minutes early. You're cycling through your second round of dynamic movements—light jogs, lunges, leg swings—until the remaining skaters begin to turn the corner.
You hear the slight lapse in chatter, but you ignore it. You're only looking for one face in the crowd.
A hand grabs your bicep. Sunghoon. "Hey, what's going on?" He hisses low into your ear. "Jaemin's pissed."
You swallow. "How pissed?"
"Pissed." His eyes narrow. "You don't seem surprised."
"Well, I…" A familiar figure rises in your peripheral. You free yourself from Sunghoon's grip. "I'm handling it. Promise."
Worry crosses his face. "Is that…good timing right now? Right before everything?"
Your confidence droops a little, but you push through it. "The timing is shit, but it has to be now."
Sunghoon releases your arm. You step forward toward the corner of the space, where Jaemin warms up with a small group of skaters.
He's wearing full-length black trousers that elongate his legs. His long-sleeved top echoes yours in shades of white blending into ice blue. A perfect pair.
You haven't seen him in days. It's like observing him through the lens of a stranger as he enraptures the attention of all around him with endless charm.
For the first time, it occurs to you; if you truly step away, this could be your new reality. Rooting for him from a distance rather than working through each struggle together. Polite yet restrained smiles of acknowledgement that refuse to reopen old wounds. The thought makes you ache.
You know it, then. You can't bear the thought of becoming strangers to one another again. As much as it stings to face your fears, the possibility of losing Jaemin hurts you more.
Rationally, you know that you can only blame yourself for this current situation—after all, it was your insecurities that had pushed him away.
Time after time, Jaemin had proven his genuine feelings and intentions toward you. This time, it was your duty to do the same.
Despite your reassurance to Sunghoon, you're scared to confront him. You're scared, but you push through anyway. You know, deep down, that going on the ice with Jaemin without addressing anything first will crack something deep in your foundation. You don't know how he'll react, and you don't want to find out.
"Hi," you breathe out from a slight distance.
Jaemin steps away from the group. His expression controls itself in an even neutrality, but he scans over your costume and over the details of your makeup.
"Hi," he responds.
A pause. There's a million things you want to say—what you know you should say, but you have no idea where to start.
"Are you ready?" You ask weakly.
"Yes." Then, he adds. "You don't need to worry. We'll give them a good show."
A good show. They're innocent words by themselves, but the accompanied tone leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.
"Performance," you can't help but correct. "We'll give them a good genuine performance."
He raises an eyebrow. "Is that not what I just said?"
He's messing with you. The cold shoulder sends hot desperation down your spine.
"Please don't be like this," you plead with him. "Can we just talk?"
"We are talking." He doesn't even look up at you.
"Come on, Jaemin. You know what I mean."
He leans down to retie the laces on his skate. He pulls so tight that the fibers creak against the boot. "I have been talking to you. Ever since we crossed paths again—I think I've been more than clear about where I stand. You're the one that needs more time."
"I don't need any more time." You admit. Your throat is raw. "I don't."
He stops.
This is it, you think.
Except, it's the opposite. Jaemin finishes lacing up his skates in a flash of panic and darts away.
"Jaemin," you call after him. You double back, grabbing your bag before taking off after him.
He weaves past the other skaters, who look at the pair of you with either curiosity or confusion. You're sure that some sort of account of this will end up on some sort of gossip blog or forum later on.
It's not hard to catch up to Jaemin, given that he's hobbling on top of blades covered by blocky skate guards. You end up cornering him in his own dressing room.
"Are you done?" You ask, exasperated. "We don't have time for this. I'm on in fifteen, then you're on with me right after."
"Yeah," he mutters, eyes darting around the room to and fro. "Let's not do this now. Let's wait."
"No way." You're blocking the door now. "God, just—listen to me, Jaem."
Realization dawns on his face, and an uneasy smile stretches completely across his features. "I'm listening."
"Thank you," you cough. Your face feels hot enough to melt ice. "I messed up yesterday."
He nods and waits for you to continue.
"Ever since you came back into my life, it's just felt like everything spiraled out of my control. Having you back and supporting me wholeheartedly while I've been struggling for so many years…" You frown while trying to find the words. "I guess I didn't believe it. I didn't feel like me or any of the work I've done for the past few years was worth that sort of blind optimism."
"It's not blind," he offers.
You ignore him. "You're perfect in, like, everything you do. I had you up on this crazy high pedestal, and I thought I would never be able to actually meet you there."
You look at Jaemin. His gaze is soft.
"You show everyone the best sides of you, but I want to see all of it. Whether you're excited or irritated at how training went, if you're annoyed at your fanbase." You draw in a breath. "I want to see all of you. I want to be with you, after this. Away from the cameras, and just for us."
Jaemin's eyes roam over your face. Then, he exhales loudly and hangs his head on top of his thighs. His shoulders shake as he laughs to himself. "Good god…"
Everything burns. "What?"
He rises to his feet and stands above you. His hands cradle your chin, their touch cool yet gentle. "I shouldn't have lost my temper at you. I'm sorry."
Your throat is dry. "Then…?"
"I got carried away even letting myself think that an idea of us would be possible." Jaemin admits. "I wasn't thinking enough about how you felt."
You nod your head wordlessly, transfixed by his words.
"You don't give yourself enough credit. Your work ethic, your charisma…you don't have to prove anything to anyone." He pauses. "It's not like anyone's perception of us will change, since I guess we're already publicly dating, but I'm ready to love you out loud. Whenever you're ready."
"Love."Your head spins. "Jaemin—"
"Jaemin, you don't know that you love me. Wrong." he anticipates your words with a shit-eating grin. His thumbs caress your cheeks. "I didn't realize it at the time because I'm such a dumbass, but I think I've loved you my whole life."
You press the backs of your hands to your cheeks, which slightly overlaps with his hands lining the sides of your face. "You have?"
"Yup." He takes one of your hands in his and presses a soft kiss to your skin. "No pressure to say it back, though. Take your time."
You don't need time; you've always known it deep down. Regardless of location, age, or circumstances, Jaemin's always reserved a space within your heart.
"One minute," you murmur, reaching for your bag. A pink bunny plushie slides out, and you hand it into the hands of the original gift-giver.
"Mr. Hops?" Jaemin tilts his head.
"I don't compete without him," you lower your gaze shyly. "So I guess you'll be in charge of making sure I have it at competitions."
Jaemin hugs him tight. "I—"
"What I'm trying to say is," you take a step towards him. "I love you too."
Jaemin closes the gap between you. The kiss carries all of your conflicting emotions and promises that you're still a little scared to say out loud. All you know for sure are two things: first, you love Jaemin, and second, to love Jaemin, you're determined to be more comfortable with the unknown.
"Jaemin, I've been knocking, you're on—" Sunghoon lingers in the threshold, jaw dropped. "What the hell?"
The room falls into wide stares. You jump away with your arms raised in surrender, Jaemin squeezes Mr. Hops to his chest, and Sunghoon points a silent, accusatory finger around the room.
"I've been looking for you, Jaemin," his finger moves to you. "You're on in like, five minutes." Finally, it lands at Jaemin's arms. "Why is Mr. Hops here?"
"We can explain," you blurt out.
Sunghoon glares at you. "You're going to explain, you dirty liar. After. You guys have to get your asses out there first."
The corners of Jaemin's eyes crinkle as he looks at you. You feel a warm swell of affection in your chest.
There's so much more you want to say to him, but the show must go on. For now, you press a quick peck to his lips and interlace your fingers together. "Ready?"
Jaemin's smile is so wide that it looks like he might explode with happiness. "For you? Anytime."
Sunghoon fake gags but holds the door open for you.
You hold hands the entire way to the ice. The crowd loses it. You faintly perceive the screams and camera flashes, but all you focus on is the feeling of Jaemin's hand in yours.
When you step on the ice, you think, this time, that this is just the beginning.
synopsis: your husband thinks taking off his wedding ring is an outrageous idea
warnings: idol!au, reader uses she/her and is referred to as wife, haechan gets annoyed and has an attitude, referred to as donghyuck.
*please tell me if i missed any ^^
disclaimer: this is all fiction. i do not claim anything happened in reality. this is for fun and all fiction
“You need me to do what?”
Donghyuck looked at the staff as if she had grown two heads- and she might as well have.
She looked nervous for a split second before responding to the man in a calm manner, repeating her request.
“For this photoshoot, we need you to remove your wedding ring.”
If this was a cartoon, Donghyuck’s eyes would have popped out of his head and steam would have come out of his ears. He couldn’t believe this. How dare they ask him to remove his wedding ring?
Nearly three months ago, you and Donghyuck recited sacred vows, sealing your commitment to each other for the rest of your lives; your closest friends and family there to witness. It was the best day of Donghyuck’s life (yours too).
After a beautiful ceremony and a fun reception, you two set off on a six-week honeymoon and a three-week staycation in your new home in Seoul. You’re not sure how your husband convinced the company to give him all this time off, but you assume his stubbornness and insistence wore them down.
Donghyuck returned from marital bliss last week and comeback preparation started promptly, beginning with studio recordings and dance practices. So, his wedding ring had never come into question, until today.
The schedule called for a photoshoot for their main concept and teaser pictures. It began like any other day- the idol had done this a million times before. Makeup and hair carried on like normal, except for the few comments Donghyuck would make about his wife.
“Can you take a picture? My wife would love this.”
“I think my wife has a blush like this.”
“This reminds me of the time my wife and I….”
The glow of a newly married man was evident in Donghyuck. But, that glow quickly turned into a spark as he started to heat up at the staff’s request.
Taking off his ring felt like a betrayal to you, especially this early in your marriage. He would look like an unmarried man and that was the last thing he wanted to be.
Donghyuck was so deep in marital bliss, he hadn’t considered the detail of taking off his ring. It makes sense of course, but the shock of the question makes him see red.
“Why do I need to take it off?” He questions the staff further.
She sighs, like the answer is obvious. It is, but not to newlywed Donghyuck. “Seeing your ring might cause some fans to become upset. We only want good press for this comeback.”
“But, the fans already know I’m married.” He responds back; his pout evident in his voice. Donghyuck is of course referring to the company notice, released days after your wedding, stating that this NCT member was in fact married and requests privacy for his family, threatening legal action if failed to be respected.
“Right, but we don’t want to risk any more upset with the fans.” The staff repeats her point from earlier.
Donghyuck is silent for a moment, thinking about how he could spin this, how he could walk out of this dressing room with his wedding ring still attached to his finger.
“Come on man, just take it off.”
Donghyuck whips his head toward his leader, and sends a glare that also serves as a warning. He holds up his left hand, ring shining in the dressing room lights. “Do you know what this signifies? No, you don’t, because you’re not married.”
Mark rolls his eyes at his member’s dramatics.
“It’s only for a few hours.” Renjun insists from the other side of the room as he’s getting styled.
It’s Donghyuck’s turn to roll his eyes as he takes off his ring, making a show to everyone that it’s off his finger, and sets it with his other belongings.
The shoot goes terribly slow in Donghyuck’s opinion. His finger itches to feel the weight of the ring on it again. He’s thinking about it’s safe place in his personal bag.
The entire interaction in the dressing room set him in a bad mood for the rest of the day. Thankfully, his members catch onto his mood and leave him be for the shoot.
He just wants to go home. He’s annoyed and pensive. He wants to fall into his wife’s arms and stay there the rest of the day.
Donghyuck even starts to spiral- will you be upset that he took off his ring? Will you question his loyalty?
He knows he’s probably being dramatic. But, he loves his ring so much; he loves that it signifies your commitment to each other. And, most of all, he loves you. He’d never want to do anything to make you question his loyalty.
The photoshoot finally finishes and the Dream members are done for the day. Everyone heads to the dressing room to shed their stylings- Donghyuck leads the group.
Everyone knows why.
He rushes to the dressing room and spots his bag, where a special piece of jewelry is held. He fishes inside the bag and opens the innermost pocket; his fingertips glide over the cool metal and he instantly relaxes. The ring immediately slips onto Donghyuck’s finger and it is then that he undresses and lets staff remove his makeup.
He bids a curt goodbye to his staff and members and heads home. Last one to arrive and first one to leave- he doesn’t care, however he can spend more time with you.
And when he finally enters the front door of his home, he’s happy he did leave work as soon as possible. Every second counts when he hears your soft hum floating through the house, when he smells dinner coming from the kitchen, when he knows his wife is waiting for him to come home.
From the entrance of the kitchen, Donghyuck can see your backside as you prepare ingredients for tonight’s dinner. You’re softly humming along to the song playing from the record player in the living room, unaware that you husband has come home.
Donghyuck can’t help but announce himself, eager to have your attention after a long day. “Hello my lovely wife.”
You turn around and giggle at your husband’s cheesiness. Nevertheless, you blush at the name wife, still getting used to the title months later.
“Welcome home husband.” You return the energy in which Donghyuck sends you a cheeky smile and walks your way.
You embrace and notice that Donghyuck is holding you tighter than normal. Reading your husband’s body language like a book, you rub his back comfortingly and wonder if he’s okay.
“Long day today?”
He nods in the crook of your neck, still holding onto you.
Moments pass and Donghyuck lifts his head to look at you.
“Guess what they did to me honey.” He pouts. You have to use every ounce of will to not giggle and coo at your husband. This is a serious matter.
“What happened?”
“They made me take off my wedding ring.” He whines and fake cries.
“They did not!” You gasp dramatically, trying to match his energy. He nods enthusiastically and then scowls, which you know is all too playful.
“It was ridiculous. I told them it was fine to keep it on.” He explains to you.
Despite the unserious moment you just shared, you can tell the mood has shifted as you detect Donghyuck’s true agitation come through.
“Why did they want you to take it off baby?” You wonder. He had been back to work for a week now and he hadn’t come home agitated until today.
“For some photoshoot. They don’t want to further upset fans. It’s so stupid. Everyone already knows we’re married. Why are they trying to hide it?” Your husband rants and you listen carefully.
It all makes sense now- why Donghyuck was so annoyed and clingy coming home today. Your heart warms at the thought of him being so reluctant to take off his wedding ring.
“What happened? Did you take it off?”
Donghyuck internally panics at your question. Would you be upset with him? Did he fail you this early into your marriage?
“Well, honey I had to, they wouldn’t let me continue with it on. Trust me, I tried to convince them how stupid this was.” He defends himself.
“Relax, Hyuck.” You rub his shoulders to soothe him, “I’m just wondering. It’s really okay. When I married you, I knew we’d have to be careful and secretive at times. I love seeing you do what you love. So, if your wedding ring has to come off sometimes. It’s okay.”
Donghyuck sends you a grateful smile and presses a firm kiss to your forehead.
“But, don’t go taking it off whenever you want now. The ring stays on outside of work hours.” You joke, tension immediately dissipating.
He gasps and tickles your sides, causing you to giggle and lean into him. “I would never, sunflower! This ring will be imprinted into my skin.” He plays back.
The thing is, you know that if Donghyuck could truly attach his ring to his skin, he probably would.
“Now step aside honey, I’ll finish dinner. Go pick another record to play.” He shoos you out of the kitchen. By the entrance, you take one last longing look at your husband and you’re thankful you have the rest of your lives together.
a/n: this was a random thought that came to me HEHE more domestic haechan because that’s all i can seem to write. like and reblogs and comments are always appreciated. more writing to come :)
