୨୧ content tags/warnings: hyung line x reader, reader is horny and desperate, alcohol.
୨୧ explicit content (smut): porn with plot, gangbang, face fucking, facials, nipple play, fingering, oral fixation, unprotected sex, degrading language, pet names (baby, sweetheart, darling etc), double penetration, unprotected anal sex, slapping, handjob, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, this is straight up porn but have a potential romance at the end, sex aftercare. lmk if i missed something.
୨୧ WORD COUNT: 9.4K !
spotify suggest: bad idea right? ; Often ; Slow Down ; Señorita
note: English isn't my first language, so if you find any mistakes I apologize, hehe, and I also welcome any corrections or tips from you.
If by some chance you're here and you speak Spanish, let me tell you that I do too, hehe, and that the Spanish version is available here.
"So, how did it go with Niki in the end?" Sunghoon asked, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth.
"Oh, she really doesn't want to talk about it," Heeseung replied, sprawled on the sofa. The girl was next to him, a slight blush on her cheeks, her eyes rolling, and sighing.
"It was total shit," she blurted out. "He rejected me for still being 'just a kid.'" Jake, sitting next to Sunghoon, let out a loud laugh. "That doesn't make any sense, does it?"
"Right, I mean, who wouldn't jump at the chance to be with a virgin?" Sunghoon commented, still eating. The girl huffed. —Men,— she thought, forgetting that her best friends were just m e n.
"Don't be rude, Hoon, you're upsetting the poor girl." Jay entered the living room of Heeseung's apartment, where they were having a sleepover, carrying cans of beer and hitting his friend on the back of the head. Sunghoon didn't complain.
"Don’t worry. Someone else will come along who isn’t an asshole, or a jerk, or an idiot, or a creep, or a..."
"I get it, Jay, thanks..." the girl groaned. "I really thought he was interested."
"He was. Just in screwing you hard."
"Sunghoon!" the three guys around him snapped. Sunghoon just rolled his eyes. "Oh, screw you all. Don't act all high and mighty now. It’s the damn truth! Niki just wanted quick sex with her, and since she didn’t put out as easily as he expected, he ditched her."
"Sunghoon, you're not being very kind with your words..." Heeseung put his arm around his friend's shoulder. "Relax, screw Niki, you're a divine woman, beautiful, and you have a big heart, he's the one who's missing out."
"For God’s sake, Hee, there were more subtle ways to be a pussy." Jake teased, taking a sip of his beer.
She laughed; her friends were men, but they were good guys, no doubt.
"At least you didn’t sleep with someone who was just going to mess you around and then vanish. I guess that would’ve been pretty cruel for you, knowing how you are."
Jay was right, that would have been horrible; her friend had strong feelings for that guy and discovering that he only wanted to use her was a blow to her pride.
"I don't want to talk about it anymore. God, it makes me nervous..." There was a brief silence, barely a minute. The guys waited; they knew the conversation wasn't over. "But you know what bothers me the most?"
They chuckled softly; their friend was so predictable.
"God! We were kissing and he lowered his hand, but I pulled away. I GOT COLD FEET, OKAY? “She covered her face with both hands, frustrated. “I felt ready, yes. But I don't know, I don't know what happened.”
“Take it as a sign that this wasn't the right path, that's all.” Heeseung offered her his beer, and she took a long swig, annoyed, frustrated, and flushed. “Slow down.” He laughed.
"Jesus, I must be the only girl on campus who's still a virgin. I need a boyfriend. Introduce me to one of your friends, Hoon. How about that guy with pretty eyes?
"Jungwon´s just like Niki, trust me. He fucks and runs."
"Men! All the same idiots."
The guys laughed loudly, Heeseung gently patted his friend's head. Jay sat down on their other free side, placing a palm on her knee, smiling.
"You don't need to rush; everyone goes at their own pace."
"You say that because you've already done it. You guys have all done it; I've heard every single one of your stories a thousand times."
"Like that time Hoon was screwing a freshman and his grandma walked into the room," Jake recalled, getting a shove from Sunghoon, who complained that they didn't need to bring that up, how embarrassing.
"Shut up, jerk. What about you? That time you couldn't get it up because you were high?"
"Oh, man, that girl was so hot on top of me, I looked like such a loser," he fake-cried, laughing. "But Jay’s right, you don't have to stress about it. It’s just sex. Or what? Are you really that desperate for some dick?"
She opened her mouth to insult him, but closed it, looking away, blushing. She snatched the beer out of Heeseung’s hand and took a gulp. Her friend laughed beside her.
"She is."
"Shut the hell up, idiots, you’re making me uncomfortable."
She huffed in annoyance, leaving the now empty can on the small table in front of her. She took advantage of him getting up to walk out of the room, heading towards Heeseung's room.
"I'm going to go change," she said, heading towards Heeseung's room.
When she returned, now wearing athletic shorts and an oversized t-shirt, her friends were already in comfortable clothes too. She sat back down between Heeseung and Jay, draping her legs over Jay's lap and her head on Hee's. Neither of them said a word or made a move; this familiarity was normal between them; they'd been friends for over ten years.
They watched a movie, chosen by Jake and Sunghoon. They all drank beer and ate chips, occasionally chatting about silly things to share a laugh. She got up from Heeseung's lap, drawing the attention of all four of them.
"I can't take this anymore," she murmured. "Help me, I'm fed up."
Jay, gently stroking her ankles, looked at her, confused. "What are you talking about?"
"Sex, Jay. I’ve been thinking... I don’t want my first time to be with some jerk who’s just going to mess me around and then disappear. Maybe it’s better to do it with someone I know won't hurt me. Someone I trust and have a real connection with."
"Are you saying you want to sleep with one of us?" Jake blurted out, stunned. She nodded.
"You guys aren't idiots. Well, sometimes you are. But you wouldn't be cruel to me."
"That’s it, no more beer for you. You're talking nonsense. The alcohol is getting to you." Heeseung took the beer from her hand. She rolled her eyes.
"I'm serious, Hee. It's just sex, right? Jake said so himself." Jake pointed at his own chest, surprised that they were ganging up on him with their eyes.
"Oh, come on! How many times have I let you guys use my room to get between a girl's legs? And all the times I introduced you to friends? I'm only asking for one thing."
Silence fell over the room. No one knew what to say. There was fear, tension, and a sudden, palpable heat. Jake looked at Sunghoon beside him, who was noticeably uncomfortable. Jay looked at his friend, then back at Heeseung behind her, who had stopped stroking her leg.
"With whom?" Jay finally blurted out, looking at her differently now—no longer as just a friend.
She hesitated, avoiding his gaze. She hadn't really thought that far ahead. "Um... I don't know," she replied.
"Any of you is fine. I don't have anyone in particular in mind." Jake stood up, restless, his expression nervous. Heeseung stopped him. "Uh-uh. Not you. You're a savage; you're going to hurt her." Jake rolled his eyes, looking for an excuse to start a stupid argument with his friend.
Just then, Jay stood up, took her hand, and pulled her toward the bedroom.
"I'm borrowing your room, Hee," he called out when they were practically inside. He closed the door slowly, leaving it unlocked. She looked up at him, her nerves spiking.
"I'll ask just to be sure. Are you certain? Nothing's going to happen that you don't want."
She nodded; she was still hesitant, but backing out would only make things awkward. She smiled;an expression he found adorable, her cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol, her skin glowing. God, that did things to Jay. He didn't have to lie to himself: his best friend was breathtaking. The only thing that had held him back before was the friendship, but now that he had her consent—now that it was her idea—he wasn't going to hold back.
He pulled her closer, his hands settling on her waist. He searched her eyes for a few seconds, looking for any sign of regret. Finding none, he smiled and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle, almost hesitant at first, but Jay whispered, "Relax, it's okay." She let out a shaky sigh, trying to expel the anxiety, and began to follow his lead. Slowly, patiently. Jay relaxed, pulling back just an inch to breathe.
"Shall we continue?" He sought her silent approval, and she nodded. He shifted, one hand moving to the nape of her neck, the other firm on her waist, pulling their bodies flush together. He kissed her more desperately now, with a hunger that broke through his earlier calm. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting the lingering sweetness of the beer, then pulled away to graze her lower lip with his teeth. He left a trail of kisses across her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, and down to her throat. She squirmed under his touch, letting out a small laugh. "Tickles," she apologized sheepishly. He smiled, pressing a reassuring kiss to her jawline, his lips leaving a damp trail down to the pulse point in her neck. Jay could feel her artery thrumming against his lips. He pulled back slightly, catching her look of disappointment at the distance. "To bed, Darling."
The nickname struck a chord; she felt a jolt of heat pulse through her, and they had barely even begun. She shuffled over to Heeseung's bed under Jay's intense gaze. He shed his shirt, pulling her against him on the mattress. He kissed her again, hungrier, thirstier. His hands drifted down to her waist, caressing the soft skin of her abdomen beneath her shirt. She felt a shiver, not the kind that brings laughter, but the kind that left her aching. Jay hovered over the hem of her shirt, his eyes meeting hers. "May I?"
She nodded, desperate for him to take control, needing to be cared for. He yanked the garment off, his breath hitching as he stared at his best friend’s exposed chest. He licked his lips, devouring her with his gaze. The intensity made her pulse race; she needed his focus to stop lingering on her hardened nipples. He kissed her lips again, moving down with sudden desperation, licking and nibbling at her collarbones. Savoring her scent, he kissed the valley between her breasts, and, looking directly into her eyes, he drew his tongue across one aroused nipple, causing her to moan and tremble. He smiled, resting his teeth lightly against the tip before licking and teasing it, repeating the sequence on the other side, leaving her skin slicked.
He pulled back, his hand moving to the hem of her shorts, slowly dragging them down until they pooled on the floor.
Feeling exposed, she let out a sharp sigh. Jay kissed her thighs, his touch reverent, gradually moving upward. She felt his warm breath against her lace. He pressed a kiss to the center of her panties—soaking wet—and used his fingers to part the fabric, exposing her. He ran his tongue between her lips, a low moan escaping her as she felt the strain of his own desire pushing against his jeans. He focused all his attention on her, kissing and tasting her, feeling her hands tangling into his hair, occasionally pushing him deeper. He was determined to make her feel completely worshipped, finding her most sensitive spot and sending electric shocks through her entire body.
"Jay... it's a lot..." she sighed, breathless. He pulled back just enough to look at her. "It's just the beginning, my love." Jay wet his fingers, guiding them to her entrance. "Breathe..." He pushed inside slowly, feeling her nervousness, tight heat close around him. He kissed her deeply to distract her from the intrusion. As she began to relax, he increased the rhythm, sliding in a second and then a third finger, the sensual sound of fluid and friction becoming rhythmic. Jay kissed her lips, her neck, her belly, massaging her clitoris with his thumb in slow, teasing circles. She began to tremble, her legs shaking uncontrollably until he finally pulled away.
"I'm going in, Darling." He promised his voice raw. "I'll be gentle." He shed his pants and boxers, finally revealing his arousal—hard and throbbing. He moved between her legs, and she wrapped them around his hips, pulling him close.
He stood firmly at the edge of the bed, grasping her hips to pull her closer. He pressed the tip of his cock against her entrance and entered her slowly, watching her face for any flicker of pain. She felt him stretch her; it was a dull, hot burn, but it wasn't pain. She took a deep, shuddering breath to release the tension. Jay pushed all the way in, a low moan escaping his throat as he waited for the right rhythm, easing into it slowly.
"Mhg~ Ja-Jay..." she whimpered, her eyes squeezed shut as her hand traced the muscles of his abdomen.
"Are you okay, darling?"
She nodded, moaning louder as he began to move. He was fully submerged, heavy and rhythmic. "More... more, Jay..." Those words were the green light he needed. He increased the pace and depth, his hips slamming into hers, causing her to cry out. He stroked her clitoris with his thumb in time with his thrusts. She tried to cover her mouth to stifle her screams, but he wouldn't let her. He pinned her wrists to the mattress, increasing his speed. "No, darling. I want to hear from you. Tell me, do you like it?"
"Y-yes... Mhg~ Jay, yes, I like it..." She could barely form the words, her mind clouded by the rush of heat flooding her body. It felt intense, overwhelming, and perfect.
"What do you like? Uhm? Tell me," he demanded, lowering his body until he could taste her lips, their moans blending together.
"Ghk! I like... how you’re filling me... hmh~."
That made him smile against her mouth, tugging at her lip with his teeth. He released her wrists to straighten up, catching her legs and pulling them over his shoulders, driving himself deeper, seeking that impossible connection. "Ugh~ Ja-jay... Ngh~ I’m going to..."
He could feel her body milking him, squeezing him so tightly it forced him to slow down. Her thighs began to tremble violently, and she let out a broken, intense cry. "That's it, baby... Cum on my cock. I love you; I love you..." He accelerated again, the wet, rhythmic slap of their bodies filling the room. "Ugh... I'm close, baby... ahh-ahh... I'm going to cum..."
Jay groaned, his pelvis hitting hers with one final, hard strike. As the tremors of her orgasm raced through her, he pulled back slightly, driving his final thrusts home until he groaned and flooded her abdomen with his warmth. Dazed, breathless, and slick with sweat, he remained still for a moment as the end of his release faded. He tapped his cock gently against her swollen, sensitive lips.
"Hmm... So, tell me, love, is everything alright?" he whispered, blinking through the haze of ecstasy. He brushed her hair away, smiling at her like a fool, and kissed her lips and cheeks with newfound tenderness. "Did you like it? Or was I an idiot?"
"No, Jay, you're not an idiot. Everything's fine... very fine," she answered, her throat dry, her cheeks still flushed. She smiled at him, soft and vulnerable. "I loved it. It met my expectations, and then some. I love you."
"I love you too, darling. Let me clean you up. I'll be right back."
Jay stood up, moving toward the door to grab a towel. He pulled it open, but he froze. Standing right there, staring back at him, was Jake—with his hand already down his own pants, his eyes dark and dilated.
"What are you doing? That’s disgusting," Jay scolded, glancing over his shoulder toward the living room. Heeseung and Sunghoon were in the same state, both handling themselves. "You guys weren't exactly quiet, Jay." Jake countered, still pumping his cock, his eyes flicking toward the girl on the bed. "It's my turn now."
Jake moved to enter the room, but Jay stopped him, grabbing his arm in a possessive, tight grip. "You're not going to fuck her." Jake laughed sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. "And why not? You just did! And you made sure we all heard. It’s not fair."
"She asked me to," Jay justified.
Jake shook his head, jabbing a finger at him. "No, she said she was fine with any of us, and you just happened to be the one who took her." Jay sighed; he was too exhausted to argue, but Jake had a point.
"Fine. Ask her. But only if she wants to." Both boys turned to look at her. Under their intense gazes, she instinctively pulled her legs together to cover herself. "Tell him, darling," Jay said, his voice laced with possessiveness. "This savage wants to fuck you. Are you going to say no?"
She blinked, stunned by the irony of it all—having sex with her best friend in another best friend's bed while the other two listened from the living room. She flicked her gaze between Jay and Jake, her nerves burning at her fingertips. She was exposed, still sensitive, and completely overwhelmed. She swallowed hard. "I… I don't know…" Jay smiled, trying to push the other boy back. "See? She doesn't want to. Let's go."
But the Australian wouldn't allow it. He shoved Jay’s arm away, stepped into the room, and loomed over her, devouring her with his eyes. "Come on, gorgeous, don't leave me hanging. A little while ago, you were so eager for a cock you were willing to take any of ours." Jake’s voice was deep, gravelly, barely stroking his cock in front of her. "Why settle for one when you can have all four of us for the night?"
"Jake... I think you're pushing her too hard," Jay warned from the doorway. "Fine," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'll do it." Silence descended on the room. Feeling trapped, she avoided their eyes, pulling her arms around her chest.
"Say it again," Jake demanded, his hunger palpable. "I need to hear it again, and I swear to God, it’ll be the best day of your life."
"I agree to have sex with you now, Jake," she stated, her heart hammering against her ribs. "And I agree to do it with the others... just for today."
That was all the Australian needed. He grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her roughly, desperately. "Fuck," he groaned against her lips. "I'm not promising to be gentle. But if I do something wrong, you can kick my balls." That made her laugh, a soft, nervous sound. She nodded.
Jake continued kissing her, practically devouring her mouth, seeking to taste every inch of her. He nibbled at her lips, not even letting her breathe. With one hand on her waist and the other cupping her breast, he squeezed hard, pinching her nipple between his fingers until she stifled a gasp. She unconsciously began rubbing her pussy against the sheets, and Jake, noticing the rhythm of her hips, pulled away, halting all action.
"We’re going to do this, beautiful..." He circled the bed, climbing onto the mattress from behind to press his chest against her bare back. "Open your legs for your audience." In front of her, near the door, stood Jay, staring intensely, his cock already hard again. Behind him, Heeseung and Sunghoon were in the same state, watching with hungry eyes. The sheer weight of their attention made her heart hammer against her ribs. Avoiding their gaze, she sat up straight, spreading her legs as instructed.
Jake mirrored her, sitting up behind her. He grabbed her knees, pulling them wide to expose her completely to the other three. He leaned in, kissing and biting at her shoulder. He brought two fingers to her mouth. "Suck," he ordered. She obeyed, licking both fingers until they were slick with her saliva. He teased her mouth for a moment before pulling them out with a wet, sharp pop. He dragged his dripping fingers down to her wet pussy, delivering a stinging slap that made her jump.
"Hmm, look at you, already jumping," he rasped. "I can't even imagine what I’m going to do to you later." He rubbed his fingers up and down the length of her cunt—slowly at first, then suddenly driving them inside with incredible speed.
"Oh—AHH~!" she cried out, her muscles clenching, her legs trying to instinctively snap shut. Jake slowed his pace, circling her entrance with his fingertips before driving his fingers deep again, biting hard into her shoulder to stifle her moan.
"Do you like it, beautiful? Uhm? Do you like how I'm touching you while the others watch? You're so turned on; you're definitely enjoying this."
His fingers worked her entrance roughly, sliding in and out, pausing every few seconds to curl into hooks against her sensitive walls. Heeseung moved closer, climbing onto the bed with his cock already in his hand, guiding it toward her lips. "Suck it," he ordered in a low, rough voice. She didn't hesitate, opening her mouth to receive his swollen length. "Ohh... Umh~ that’s it, baby." He held her head firmly in both hands, setting the rhythm. He pulled her back, only to drive himself deeper into her mouth, letting her tongue swirl around the sensitive tip. "Do it again, and I’ll blow your mouth apart, I swear. You’re going to feel every bit of me."
It was a threat she decided to take as a challenge. She licked from base to tip, leaving a lingering kiss on the head of his cock, locking eyes with Heeseung as she teased him. She swirled her tongue around his opening, and Heeseung trembled on the mattress, his own fist tightening around the base of his shaft.
"Open wide for me, baby. Breathe through your nose." She obeyed, parting her lips as wide as she could without scraping him with her teeth. Heeseung thrust deep into her throat, forcing a gag reflex, but he didn't let her pull away. He began to pound into her mouth, his movements so rhythmic and forceful that his nose brushed against her chin. "Hmh… ohh~, baby, I'm gonna... ugh~, I'm gonna cum." He continued to thrust, his pace becoming desperate. "You're going to swallow it all for me, right? Because you're a good girl, aren't you?." She nodded, her throat working around his cock, her mouth vibrating with every movement, while Jake’s fingers continued their work inside her, leaving her feeling exquisitely overwhelmed. Heeseung thrust his hips a few more times before he spilled inside her, deep and relentless, emptying himself until the very last drop. He pulled his cock from her mouth, which was left swollen and flushed. He smiled, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "Beautiful. You’re so beautiful."
"Get off, Jake" Sunghoon commanded, appearing behind him. Jake huffed, pulling his hand away from her and sliding off the bed. Heeseung retreated as well, stepping back to watch. Sunghoon immediately moved in, his skin hot against hers as he stroked her back, leaving a trail of kisses along her shoulder. "Sit on my face, honey."
"Huh?" she breathed, turning to look at him. Sunghoon was completely naked, his expression dark and hungry. He smiled, showing his fangs, and pressed a brief, possessive kiss to her lips. ""Sit on my face, love. I'm going to eat that pussy now." He lay back against the pillows, gesturing for her to straddle him. She positioned her knees on either side of his head, hovering for a heartbeat. Even before she settled, she could feel his warm breath ghosting over her entrance. He gripped her waist, burying his face against her, his nose brushing rhythmically against her clitoris. She let out a broken moan. Sunghoon parted her, his tongue sweeping from side to side before diving deep inside.
"Ohh... God, Hoon... I-I can't," she gasped, her teeth chattering. He was too close, the friction of his nose and the heat of his tongue driving her wild. She buried her hands in her own hair, tugging at the roots as he caught her clitoris between his lips, pulling at it with rhythmic pressure. "Mmm... ohh..." Jay and Jake approached, taking her hands and guiding them to their cocks.
"Make us feel good, darling," Jay whispered, kissing her lips with that familiar, gentle heat. She moved her hands over her friends' erections, her touch growing desperate as she began to masturbate them. Sunghoon reached up, pinching one of her nipples, while Jake leaned in to lick the other.
Her warning came too late. The orgasm hit her like a tidal wave—a fluttering deep in her belly and electric tingles that shot straight to her clitoris. Sunghoon didn't let up, catching every shudder and moan. Her legs pressed against his shoulders, trembling as she melted into him, her body completely surrendering to the sensation. Jake, his eyes locked on the spectacle, released his own hand to stroke himself fiercely, his gaze wild with hunger.
"Open your tight little for me, beautiful." She obeyed, parting her lips and letting her tongue tease the air. The Australian gave one final, forceful pump, letting his semen shoot toward her face. Most of it landed in her mouth, with a few stray drops staining her cheeks. When he was spent, he dragged the head of his cock along her skin, collecting the excess, and pressed the still-laden tip against her lips. "Swallow it all, beautiful."
Sunghoon and Jake pulled back, finally giving her a brief respite. Her head was lost in the clouds, her body trembling, still humming with residual heat. Heeseung, sitting against the headboard, patted her thighs, his cock hard once again.
"Up, baby. Show me how well you can ride me." She crawled toward him, positioning herself over his lap. Heeseung guided his tip to her entrance, leaving the responsibility of the connection to her. "I'm all yours, baby. My cock belongs to you now. Jump on me until I can't take any more."
She lowered herself slowly. The angle stretched her in a way Jay hadn't, and as she sank down, she felt him penetrate her to the hilt. Both of them let out a shuddering sigh. She moved her hips in slow, deliberate circles, adjusting to his size, before beginning a steady up-and-down motion that was pure torture for him. Heeseung watched her, his hands kneading her breasts, licking and biting at her erect nipples, his eyes locked on her face as she surrendered to the movement. "Look at me, baby." She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. Heeseung gripped her wrists, pulling them behind her back, and thrust his hips upward to meet her. "Faster, baby. Harder." She used her knees for momentum, bouncing on him, sliding in and out with a wet, rhythmic squelching sound that filled the room.
"Ohh... hah~ Hee... ugh..." Heeseung released her wrists, gripping her hips instead, and adjusted himself to lie flat against the mattress for a better view. He lifted her hips slightly, never withdrawing, and began to thrust upward—hard, fast, frantic. The sound of her buttocks slapping against his thighs stripped him of his control; the sight of her breasts bouncing frantically hastened his second climax of the night. "Ohh... ohh... baby, I'm going to cum." Pressing his hands into her hips, he pulled her down onto him with a rough, final surge. She screamed as he hit the spot she couldn't hide from. "Hee... AAH! There... right there, Heeseung... please!" He smiled victoriously, having found her sweet spot. He accelerated, thrusting harder, faster, deeper, until his own body began to spasm. He held her tight, his balls hitting her rhythmically as he emptied himself deep inside her. The walls of her canal squeezed him, forcing him to hold her close, gasping against her shoulder as he collapsed. He pulled her down, hugging her against his chest, pressing tender kisses to her damp skin. "Good girl. So good, baby. You sucked me dry." He laughed, his voice ragged with exhaustion, as he continued to pepper her shoulder with kisses.
"Okay, that's enough. I've been waiting to sink into that fucking cunt ever since she floated the idea in the living room," Jake complained, standing at the edge of the bed, his hand already on his cock. "Heeseung, off. Now."
Heeseung laughed and moved her off him, pressing one last kiss to her lips before pulling away. Jake climbed onto the bed, naked and predatory, moving her across the sheets. He gave her ass a light, stinging pat. "Lift that ass for me, gorgeous. I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll forget your own name." She shifted onto her hands and knees, face down, feeling the heat rise to her face and neck. The weight of the position felt heavy, exposing her in a way that made her pulse thunder. The other three were watching, their hands working themselves as they stared. Jake grabbed her hips, staring down at her dripping entrance. "It looks better from this angle, no doubt," he rasped. "And you’re soaked." He slapped her right buttock—hard—making her gasp as a red mark bloomed on her already sensitive skin. "So tell me, how does it feel to have the attention of your four best friends? Huh? You like it. You love it. You're giving yourself to us like a total slut. Friend."
"Shut your mouth, Jake," she choked out, her body burning. He slapped her again, and again, his palm stinging against her flesh until her skin was flushed. "Ask me for it." He positioned his cock right at her entrance, teasing her. "Beg me to put it in. Do it." He leaned down to kiss the back of her neck, his hands tracing the line of her spine.
"Shit, Jake... please. Just do it," she whispered, her hips already arching, seeking him. "I don't understand. What do you want? Hmm?"
"Put your cock in me, Jake. Please... fuck me. Hard. Fast."
"Whatever my little girl wants," he grinned.
He thrust in—rough and sudden—practically piercing her. The impact forced a heart-wrenching scream from her lungs. She buried her head in the pillows for a second, and when she looked up, tears were streaming down her cheeks from the sheer intensity.
"Jake! You're hurting her, you idiot!" Jay shouted, his voice laced with anger, while Heeseung stepped forward as if ready to pull him off.
"Of course I'm not. The little slut is just exaggerating," Jake panted, already beginning to move with frantic, heavy thrusts. "She loves it when I ram it in all the way. Right, my love?"
"Ugh... yes... it's—it's okay... shit... just like that... fuck, Jake... ohh..." She was too dazed by the force of him to speak clearly, her voice breaking with every strike.
"Sunghoon. Put your cock in her mouth so this whore stops crying."
Sunghoon approached, crouching down to her level. He caressed her cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumbs before kissing her tenderly to stifle the moans escaping her. When he pulled back, he brushed his cock against her cheek with a few light slaps. He smiled as she, on her own, sought him out, taking his throbbing length into her mouth and swallowing him whole.
"Ugh... for your first time, you're doing so well, love." He stroked her hair, visibly turned on by the sight of her working on him while Jake’s cock sank deep inside her from behind. She didn't even need to move her hips; Jake’s brutal thrusts did all the work, forcing her onto Sunghoon with every strike. "Ngh... A-Augh!, J-Jake," she sobbed as his thumb suddenly plunged into her ass, forcing the opening. "Sorry, love, but I can't hold back..." he rasped, massaging her in tight circles before pushing his finger deeper, hooked against her walls.
"Gah...! Mmm... ohh... Jake... m-more... please, more! Ahh!" she moaned shamelessly, her voice echoing through the room. By then, Heeseung and Jay were right beside Sunghoon. Jake, still hammering into her soaking pussy, gathered her hair in his fist and pulled her back until her spine pressed against his chest, continuing the brutal rhythm.
"Look at them, love. Look at them touching themselves while they watch us fuck." Jake smiled darkly, biting her earlobe and sucking on her neck. Jay took her hand, guiding it to himself, and she complied instantly. Heeseung and Sunghoon each claimed a nipple. “Ahh… ohh~ , ohh… God, ohh God..” The girl felt that familiar electric shock again—racing from the base of her neck, down her spine, to her abused cunt. She trembled violently under Jake's grip. "Jake! Jake! Jake!" He pushed her down again, forcing her onto her hands and knees and shoving her head back toward Sunghoon’s cock. "Grab it, you whore. If you could see yourself right now... crying and screaming my name while I tear you apart, mouth busy with one cock and hands with another." He laughed mockingly, slapping her ass over and over. " Ahh~ Ahh… Such a fucking slut. And you love it."
Jake pulled out suddenly, leaned down, and spat on her pussy before slapping her sensitive lips hard. Sunghoon, meanwhile, gripped the back of her neck, trembling as he bit his own lip. He pulled out of her mouth and came across her face, splattering her skin. "Ugh... total slut." He ran his fingers over her face, then shoved them into her mouth so she could taste him completely. "Good girl, baby."
"I'm not finished with you yet, though, gorgeous." Jake hugged her from behind, holding her limp, sweaty body against his chest. He took his aching cock and pressed it against her second entrance. "You're going to have to breathe deep, love. I won't get in if you tense up. Come on, darling... open up for me." As he began to slide into her tight opening, Jake groaned, the pressure almost making him lose his mind. "Ohh... Jake... no, I can't... Jake, no... A-Augh! It hurts..."
Jay moved closer, kissing her lovingly to distract her. He took her hands, letting her dig her nails into his skin as she moaned against his lips. "You can do it, love. You're doing great."
He was almost completely inside her now. She felt stretched, irritated, and overwhelmed. For a moment, neither moved. "Beautiful, I’m going to move now. I need you to scream my name as loud as you can, and I'll come just for you." Jake began to move slowly, carefully, waiting for her to relax. Jay took control, kissing her and kneading her breasts while Heeseung gently caressed her clitoris from below. When the tension finally left her shoulders, Jake began to thrust deeper, faster, harder.
"Hah... Jake... Jake! Ohh!" That was it. Jake finally released inside her, his body spasming. Kissing her shoulder and cheek, he pulled out of her aching body and rubbed his cock against her pussy. "God, Jake, don't do that. I'm right here," Heeseung complained from below, having been tending to her the whole time. "Better get off."
The boy, still breathless from his release, laid her down beside him on the bed, peppering her face with kisses. Heeseung moved to switch places with him, leaning his back against the headboard. "Sunghoon, help her... on top of me." Sunghoon gripped her waist, lifting her to sit on Heeseung's lap. He stayed right behind her, his hard cock pressing firmly against the cleft of her ass. "Love, tell me... do you want to take us both at the same time?" Heeseung looked deep into her eyes, that intense, unyielding stare he got when he wanted something. Sunghoon was behind her, his fingers teasing her weak, slick entrance, which was still dripping with the semen of the previous rounds. "I asked you a question. Answer me." He spoke again, but this time his eyes were filled with desire.
"Yes... I will, Hee... both of you. Yes." Heeseung smiled, kissing her lips before affectionately rubbing his nose against hers.
"Like a total slut. Yes." Sunghoon spat on her back, guiding his cock into her before thrusting home. "Ohh... fuck... it's better than any other cunt I’ve ever touched." Without moving, she felt the tip of Heeseung's cock asking for permission to enter alongside him. She writhed, her body stretching to accommodate the two of them at once. They began to move, trying to find a shared rhythm. As one pushed in, the other withdrew, a relentless cycle. "Umh... hmh... guys... it's a lot. T-too much..." Heeseung kissed her desperately, pulling her back against his chest. "You can do it, like the fucking whore you are. You're taking two at once. Two fucking cocks in your cunt. Fucking whore, that's what you are." Sunghoon threw his head back as he moved, his spit landing on her skin. With each thrust, he tried to sink deeper, the friction of their bodies rubbing together becoming almost unbearable.
"Hoon... don't call her that. She's not a whore. She's our little doll." Heeseung defended her. For him, the dynamic was different; he wanted to tear her body apart, but never her feelings. "Ohh... ohh... God, I'm close, love. I'm close!"
"Do it. Do it on us, baby. And we'll fill you up again." Sunghoon roughly squeezed the back of her neck, spreading her cheeks wide as he watched them slide in and out of her together. Her legs trembled for the countless time that night. She buried her face in Heeseung's shoulder as they continued to pump inside her. Heeseung came first, followed quickly by Sunghoon. They thrust a few more times after climaxing, slowly withdrawing from her. The weight of her body went completely limp against them.
She felt defeated, weak, and utterly spent. She clung awkwardly to Heeseung's sweaty frame while Sunghoon pulled away. "Oh God, look at all that semen spilling out of her," Jake remarked from the side. "You asked for one cock and got four. Plenty of girls would kill to be in your place, love."
"Shut up, Jake," she snapped, her voice raspy. Heeseung stroked her head affectionately. "I can't take any more, guys... please."
"One last thing," Jay interjected, his voice firm. "On your knees. Right here on the floor. Now."
She lifted her head, pouting at Heeseung, who only smiled and kissed her forehead. "This is it, and then we’re done, love."
She nodded, awkwardly shifting from Heeseung's lap and getting off the bed to kneel on the carpet, still breathless. She just needed this to be over. The four boys surrounded her like a wall of heat. Jay, who had orchestrated this final scene, pressed his cock against her swollen, pouting lips. "Suck it. You're the only one who hasn't taken care of me with your mouth yet, love."
"You were literally the first one to fuck her, what are you even talking about?" Jake complained, though he didn't move away. She took Jay’s cock in her hand, licking from the base to the tip, where precum was already oozing. She took him deep into her throat, sucking fast and loud, the heat of her mouth drawing a groan from him. Jay pulled out with a wet pop, immediately guiding the back of her neck toward Jake. Jake groaned as he felt her teeth graze his sensitive skin. "Don't bite me, sweetheart. I know you like having a cock in your mouth, but you don't actually eat it." He laughed, his fingers tangling in her hair as he dictated her movements, forcing her to take all of him. He held her there for a few seconds until she choked, then released her abruptly, watching a silver trail of saliva spill from her lips. "Now for your favorite, love." He pushed her toward Heeseung, who was watching her like a predator watching its prey. She opened her mouth for him, but Heeseung pulled back just out of reach, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Oh, look at her, Hee. She gets mad if you don't give it to her," Jake laughed, masturbating beside them. "Ask me for it, love. Ask me to give it to you. Go ahead," Heeseung ordered, his eyes boring into hers. She swallowed hard, her thighs slick. She was exhausted, yet her body still hummed with excitement. He waited, tilting his head. "Please, Hee..."
"Please what? I can't hear you. A little while ago you were screaming with two cocks inside you, and now you can't talk?"
"Please, Heeseung... fuck my mouth. Please, I need it. I need you." His expression softened instantly. He brought his cock to her lips, panting. "Good girl. Now, take a deep breath." Obeying his command, she inhaled through her nose just as the hot tip of his penis hit the back of her throat, forcing a gag. He didn't let her recoil, thrusting steadily. Jay and Jake moved in on either side, taking her hands and guiding them to their own lengths. With clumsy, tired movements, she worked both of them while Heeseung dominated her mouth.
"I have an idea. Just leave the tip in, Hee," Sunghoon interjected, eager for his turn. Heeseung complied, leaving only the sensitive head of his cock on her tongue. Sunghoon immediately pressed his own right next to it. "Suck it. Take both at once, like the slut you are." She rolled her eyes, annoyed by his attitude even now, but that was just Sunghoon. She took both of them as best she could, their tips stretching her mouth to its limit. Her cheeks were strained, and saliva dripped down her chin in a messy, wet display of total surrender.
"Take all four, love. Come on," Jake urged, his fingers tangling in her hair.
She pulled the two cocks from her mouth, switching her focus to the other two. Now, she was masturbating Heeseung and Sunghoon with frantic, tired hands. She let go of Sunghoon for a moment to refocus on Jay, taking him all the way down, swirling her tongue around his tip until he gasped. "Ohh... Keep going with the other one, love," Jay panted, his voice breaking. "We're going to come all over your pretty face." She released Jay, opening her mouth for Sunghoon again. Ella worked him from base to tip, over and over, sucking the head while her hand pumped his shaft. "Damn... almost there, almost there," he groaned, pulling back to let her continue with Jake. Jake forced her mouth to close as tightly as possible around him, thrusting his cock into her cheek until a protruding bump formed against her skin. "Fuck, love... ugh. I could stay in here all day. I love you." The visual was enough to make his muscles lock. He finally let her go, stepping back to finish masturbating on his own.
Finally, she was back in front of Heeseung. He stroked her chin, his thumb trailing over her flushed cheeks and swollen, glistening lips. She didn't expect the slap; it wasn't hard, just a sharp, stinging tap. Under the watchful eyes of the other three—all of them on the verge of climax—Heeseung slapped her other cheek, leaving two distinct red marks on her skin.
"You love this, don't you? You're enjoying it so much," he whispered, his eyes dark with adoration and lust. "I love you. Be a good girl and open your mouth for us." She obeyed, parting her lips and sticking out her tongue, waiting. Jay was the first. He pumped his cock, ejaculating across her face until he was spent. He let her suck the tip one last time before pulling away, making room for Jake and Sunghoon. Both stood on either side of her, spilling their essence over her skin, aiming everywhere but her mouth. When they finished, they both slapped their heavy, wet lengths against her sticky cheeks. Heeseung finished the cycle. He gave his cock one last, desperate stroke before unloading onto her lips, shoving his length deep into her throat one final time as he came. He pulled out slowly, his body sagging with total exhaustion.
A few minutes passed where the only sound in the room was their ragged, synchronized breathing. As the pleasure slowly faded, a heavy sense of shame began to settle in. She ran a hand over her face, trying to wipe away the stickiness that adorned it; one eye stung, and her throat felt like sandpaper. She didn't dare get up, staring at the floor, focusing on the carpet patterns to keep from dying of embarrassment.
Heeseung was the first to move. He took her gently by the waist, carrying her to the bathroom. He turned on the tap, waiting for the water to warm. As he stroked her hair—damp with sweat and fluids—she avoided his gaze, and he didn't force it. He understood the shift; the ecstasy had worn off, and reality had set in.
Once the tub was full, he helped her clean herself, running a sponge soaked in vanilla-scented soap over her aching body. When he reached her lower half, she snapped back to awareness, reflexively closing her legs. She took the sponge from him, rubbing the area herself, her face contorting. It hurt—a dull, throbbing heat. While she worked slowly, Heeseung washed her hair with his coconut shampoo, massaging her scalp. He watched as she closed her eyes and melted into the gesture. He loved taking care of her, even if he wasn't ready to admit how fast it made his heart race.
When he finished, he left her to finish in private, leaving a T-shirt and a pair of his athletic shorts for her. Back in the room, he found Sunghoon and Jake sprawled out, already fast asleep, while Jay sat on the small sofa, dressed in his pants.
"She´s okay?" Jay asked. Heeseung nodded. "God, get dressed. I don't want to see your dick right now—or theirs." Heeseung chuckled, pulling on some clothes.
Ten minutes later, she appeared, swallowed by her friend's oversized clothes, drying her hair with a towel. Clean now, the marks on her thighs and neck were impossible to miss. She realized Heeseung and Jay were staring and felt a wave of panic.
"Okay, stop staring at me. Or I'm going to cry," she complained, pouting. They both laughed; she looked adorable. Jay disappeared into the bathroom, leaving them alone. "Come on, I'll help you," Heeseung offered with a sweet smile. She sat on the sofa, and he positioned himself behind her to dry her hair. "Everything alright? Was there... anything you didn't like? I mean, Jake and Sunghoon were pretty rough... don't take them seriously, they say that stuff to everyone."
"It's fine, Hee. Don't worry." She sighed. "I'm so tired. Even my eye hurts. Look, it's red." He leaned in to check. It was indeed bloodshot. He suspected someone’s aim had been a bit too true during that last round, but he wasn't going to remind her of that now. "I need to sleep for two days straight, I swear."
He began brushing her hair gently. "Hey... would it be weird if I asked for a kiss now? I mean, a real one... don't get me wrong—" She smiled, amused. She loved seeing him nervous. She nodded and leaned in, meeting his lips in an awkward, soft kiss. Heeseung sighed into it, taking her chin to deepen the kiss, making it gentle and full of an affection that had been missing in the chaos. When they broke apart, he peppered her face with kisses—her cheeks, her forehead.
"Hee, stop," she laughed softly, "or we'll start a new round, and believe me, I'm completely out of energy." Heeseung chuckled, nodding as he pulled her close to just hold her.
The next morning, she woke up in Heeseung’s bed, his arms wrapped around her from behind, holding her so tightly it was as if he feared she might disappear. They were the only two left in the room. She tried to sit up, but his grip on her waist only tightened. "Hee, wake up," she whispered, her voice raspy. She had to clear her throat and gently shake his shoulder to pull him from sleep. "Are you awake yet?"
"Good morning, beautiful," he rasped, his voice thick with sleep. She felt her cheeks burn a bright pink. He stared at her with an intensity that made her heart skip—as if something had permanently clicked in his mind. He only snapped out of it when she tried to stand and stumbled backward with a sharp groan.
"Uh... Ouch!" she cried out, clutching her lower abdomen. Heeseung was on his feet in a second, eyes wide. "Damn it, are you okay? What hurts? Did we... did we hurt you? I swear, if we did, I’ll go and cut their dicks off right now."
She laughed despite the pain, shaking her head. "I'm fine. I mean, yes, it hurts, but it's not life or death. I just really need to pee. Urgently." She scrambled toward the bathroom, but Heeseung wasn't convinced—especially when he spotted a small bloodstain on the sheets and more evidence in the bathroom trash. He decided to keep it to himself for now; he didn't want to embarrass her in front of the others.
Jay cooked lunch for the group. They all sat together in the dining room, the atmosphere a strange mix of domesticity and lingering tension. "Slow down... you're going to choke," Jake teased, watching her eat with a desperate energy. "Shut up. I'm obviously starving," she snapped, a piece of meat still in her mouth as she glared at him. "So... how are you feeling?" Jake asked, leaning in.
"Holy crap! Could you... just stop asking me? Please."
"We're just worried about you, darling," Jay said smoothly, placing a fresh piece of steak on her plate with a smile. "I'm fine, guys. Really."
"Exactly. You don't have to be embarrassed; we're your friends, after all," Jake said, patting her head. "Well, the concept of 'friendship' has escalated quite a bit, hasn't it?" she muttered, rolling her eyes. Sunghoon held out a piece of vegetable with his chopsticks, offering it to her. She shook her head. "I have my own, thanks."
"Eat," Sunghoon commanded, moving the chopsticks closer. "Last night you were all excited; don’t start acting delicate now."
"Hoon, leave her alone," Heeseung scolded. She sighed and took the bite. "Ah! I just remembered," Jake murmured, lowering his voice. "I didn't... hurt you, did I? I mean, you know. Back there." She choked on her water, her face turning a deep shade of crimson. "Everything’s fine. Just... a little pain. I hope it goes away soon because I’m trying really hard to stay seated right now."
Jake laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Sooooo sorry. I got carried away. But at least tell me you liked it. Come on, tell me. Please." She hesitated for a second, tapping her chin as if deep in thought. "It was awful. I'm never letting it happen again."
Jake looked genuinely wounded, his face contorting with mock offense while the other three roared with laughter. "You're such a liar. Do I really have to remind you how you were screaming my name? 'Stick your dick in me, Jake, please, fuck me,'" he mocked, pitch-shifting his voice to an exaggerated, breathy tone.
He immediately received a punch to the chest. Annoyed and blushing, she turned to Heeseung for help. "Hee! Jake's bothering me. Say something to him!"
"Jake, bother her again and I'll cut your dick off, I swear. The knife is right here," Heeseung scoffed, gesturing toward the kitchen counter. "Party pooper. Fine, I'll shut up," Jake muttered, though he was still grinning.
"What's going on with you two, anyway? You're being all lovey-dovey," Sunghoon pointed out, leaning back. "Heeseung literally kicked us all out of his room so he could sleep alone with you. And now you're asking him to defend you? Please. Last night it was all, 'Please, Heeseung, fuck my mouth with your cock—'"
"Okay! That’s it. I’m leaving," she snapped, standing up and ready to grab her things. "I hate you all. Don't ever speak to me again." But before she could take a step, Heeseung’s hands caught her wrists, pulling her back into a firm hug. She let out a huff but buried her face in his chest anyway. "Shut your mouths or I’ll hit you," Heeseung warned the others. "And no, we're not 'in love.' It’s called being considerate, Sunghoon. You should try it sometime."
After the drama settled, the others finally headed to their respective homes. Jay offered to drive her, but she refused, choosing to stay a little longer. Heeseung was at the sink washing the dishes when he felt her arms wrap around his waist from behind. He stopped, drying his hands to turn around and cup her face. He gave her a quick, sweet kiss. "Hee..." she murmured. "Tell me, baby."
"You're the best. I just wanted to tell you... thanks for taking care of me. I appreciate it."
"You're welcome, baby," he chuckled softly, his thumb stroking her cheek. "It's the least I could do after everything we did. Besides, I love you. You're my best friend... I'd be an idiot if I wasn't kind to you."
"Uhm, yeah... best friends..." She looked at him intently, her brow furrowing. "Why do I feel different with you? I mean, I don't know... this feels... ugh. Never mind. Forget it."
He smiled, tilting her chin up to kiss her again—this time faster, with more hunger and a depth of feeling that hadn't been there before. "Fuck it," he whispered against her lips. "You can't be just my 'best friend' again after this. I mean, I had my cock in your pussy and your throat. There’s nothing friendly about that." She punched his chest again, though there was no force behind it. "Heeseung! Don't remind me!"
"New round? Just you and me?" he teased with a mischievous grin. "No. My ass hurts. Literally."
He laughed, kissing her cheeks and pulling her back into a protective hug. That night, they stayed alone in the apartment, simply sharing the silence and each other's presence. There were no ulterior motives, just the occasional passionate kiss. They had both realized that the attraction was much more than a one-night stand—it was real. But they were still too dazed to confront it.
That would be a problem for another day.
AAAH I finally published it! I hope you liked it. It's the first time I've written something like this, and so long, to be honest, hehe.
Your requests, ideas, questions (or anything else) are welcome.
OMG I get what you are saying about enhypen! Heeseung departure really showed lots of people's true colour. Not many can accept the fact that they can support both but proceed to hate other six members or heeseung. On twt it is so much worse. And even ot7 do not realise how they are disregarding talent of other six members :( they are doing their best too. It hurts that they have to see lots of mean comments instead of ppl being kind to them :/
it’s getting so frustrating honestly. from what i’ve seen, people are even treating them with blatant double standards. the support they’re giving him for kcon la and the busan festival vs blood saga is SO DIFFERENT like suddenly the boycott isn’t working on him. i thought their rival was belift? and the last time i checked, both evan and enhypen are belift artists so why are you only boycotting and attacking enhypen and not boycotting evan?
it’s so sick. i feel sick. i just want to support my boys without hurting their careers but knowing that they have to see this every time they open the apps it’s just—so heartbreaking. i don’t condemn people who boycott or don’t boycott but if you’re gonna boycott them please be fair to both sides.
also, an engene who wants to support them on their own paths rn is not necessarily an ot6. ot7 can be 6+1. they’re still ot7 no matter the equation. i wish people can start understanding this and respect everyone’s decision.
don’t get me started on the hate train going on for sunoo since the beginning of the tour. i have blocked so many accounts who talked shit about his vocal and high notes. just thinking about it makes my blood boil.
˙⋆✮ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: radio host! vernon chwe x night nurse!f.reader
you two share a lot in common. you’re next door neighbors, you’re both night owls, you both have nonexistent romantic lives, and you both also have a crush on each other without the other knowing. you spend your nights in the emergency room, and he spends his nights hosting a radio show. you find comfort in the chaos of your job by listening to your neighbors radio show. things between you start to change after another long night at work.
˙⋆✮ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, neighbors to lover, smut
˙⋆✮ 𝐚𝐮(𝐬): non-idol
˙⋆✮ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k
˙⋆✮ 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cussing, smut, lover boy vernon, they’re both a little awkward
˙⋆✮ 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: protected p in v, big dick vernon, couch sex, riding, fingering, oral (fem rec), face riding, they’re both kinda desperate, lots of making out, nipple play, hair pulling (him rec) Nicknames: baby (hers)
˙⋆✮ 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ nsfw
˙⋆✮ 𝐚𝐧: this was written for First Time Caller ☎️ collab, hosted by @studiosvt. thank you @haologram for helping me with so many things from naming this, to figuring out the plot and giving me tips on working on my banner. Thank you @thestraybunny and @supi-wupi for beta reading.
🎧: 12:34 - the band camino | headlights - in color | DOA - armors | see you later - the band camino | fronting - seventeen
FROM AN EARLY BIRD TO A NIGHT OWL
There used to be a time when you weren't a night owl. You used to love waking up early and enjoying a cup of coffee while the morning air was still fresh. You probably would still be an early bird if the hospital didn't switch you to the night shift in the emergency room.
Your once peaceful nights have turned into chaos filled nights in the ER. There is one thing you've found that helps relax you. Anytime you’re in the nurses station, you listen quietly to 171.3 SVT fm. The middle of the night DJ is your fave. There is something about his voice you've grown fond of.
LATE NIGHT NEIGHBORS
Sitting in the nurse's station taking a break, there is finally a lull. It's four in the morning and you only have two hours left. You're munching on some chips. You have your headphones in one ear. You're listening to your favorite radio station.
Luckily it's a segment where the DJ is talking. You could listen to Vernon ramble on about anything. His voice is so smooth, anything he talks about sounds interesting.
"Tonight on 171.3 the after midnight hours were playing some of my favorite songs." Closing your eyes you listen to his voice. You're well aware your favorite dj lives next door to you. Many of your friends know about your unrequited crush on your neighbor. "This song is called Fronting."
Someone grabs your shoulder, startling you. Whipping your head to the side you see Minghao standing next to you, trying not to laugh.
"Are you that distracted by radio boy, that you didn't hear me?"
Putting your headphones away quickly, you stand up and smooth out your scrubs. "I was just zoning out. It's calm at the moment so I decided to take a break."
Minghao lets out a little laugh, leaning against the wall. "You can just admit you have a crush. I promise I won't tell your neighbor."
Minghao is one of your closest friends. You met back in nursing school, and immediately became friends. He knows all about your infatuation with your neighbor. Since becoming a nurse, your dating life has been basically nonexistent. Hell you don't ever really mention having interest in anyone. The second you showed signs of having a crush on the Vernon, the boy Minghao lovingly calls "Radio Boy", he immediately started teasing you.
"We have two hours left and we're home free." Minghao says before taking a sip of his coffee.
"You two are needed in room twenty two." The charge nurse says.
"Aye aye capitan." Minghao salutes.
-
As soon as your shift ends you're sitting at your locker. Minghao is searching through his bag. You've put in your headphone in one ear so you can listen to the last few minutes of Vernon's radio show.
Heading out of the hospital Minghao heads with you to the train station. You both live near the same station. You keep your air bud firmly in your ear listening to Vernon talk about the last artist he played for the final song.
Luckily the train arrives as soon as you get to the platform. Your train ride is maybe thirty minutes. The hospital is only a handful of stops from the station near you.
Vernon's show is over and you're now just listening to a playlist that you like. You and Minghao are sitting next to each other. He's busy scrolling through his phone. It looks like he's reading messages from a girl he's been casually seeing.
"Did you hear about Dr. Choi?" He asks.
You take your air bud out and put it back in the container. "Is this about him and the new front desk girl?" Dr. Choi is extremely good looking and lots of the nurses always talk about him.
"Yes. Mingyu was telling me that Dr. Choi asked her out." Minghao somehow always knows all the latest gossip going on in the. hospital.
"Of course Mingyu was gossiping with you."
The train is about to arrive at your stop. You both stand up, and move towards the door. Walking out of the station, you're greeted to the sun starting to rise. It's six in the morning and the sky is a shades of orange and pink.
"I can't wait to nap." Minghao stretches his arms above his head a little.
"I just want to eat something before I even think about sleeping."
"I'll see you at six." Minghao waves and then heads in the other direction.
The walk to your apartment is only a couple minutes. Walking into your building you head for the elevator. You press the button and wait.
You hear footsteps behind you. Glancing over you see your crush (and favorite radio host) walk up. Vernon is standing there looking good. He's wearing in a pair of jeans, and a baggy shirt. Glancing down you see his red converse.
"Morning neighbor." He says.
"Morning."
"I see you're a fellow night owl." The doors open, and you both set inside he elevator. Vernon quickly hits the thirteenth floor. Vernon leans against the railing. You notice he's holding a take out bag from breakfast spot that's below your apartment building.
"The night shift at the hospital is the reason I'm a night owl."
"Your job is more thrilling than mine." He tilts his head looking at you.
"I think being a radio host sounds fun."
"I don't know, being an er nurse is way cooler." You lean back against the wall next to him. "I think it's pretty funny that two next door neighbors both work the night shifts." Maybe it's because you haven't dated in forever, but you can't tell if he's flirting with you.
"It's nice that the man that shares a bedroom wall with me also sleeps the day away."
He bits his bottom lip, holding back a smile. "You won't find me complaining."
The bell rings and the elevator doors slide open. You follow Vernon as he heads down the hallway towards your apartments.
"So are you going straight to bed?" He asks.
"No, I'm going to eat something. After these shifts, I'm always hungry."
He raises up the take out bag. "Well I have an extra breakfast burrito, if you don't mind having breakfast with me." This is a first. You and Vernon haven't ever hung out. Your normal interactions are elevator rides you share a handful of times a week.
"That would be amazing."
"Did you want to come over to my place?" You've never hung out with Vernon before. You've just shared elevator rides with him.
"Yeah."
You follow him to his apartment that’s next to yours. He pulls his keys from his pocket. He pushes open the door, and you follow him inside.
His apartment feels very him. There is a tv sitting on top of a shelf that is clearly made to hold vinyls. There is a table in the corner with a record player.
Vernon slips off his shoes, and drops his bag by the door. You follow his lead and slip off your own shoes. You continue to look around the room. You notice his grey couch, that looks like something a lot of men have in their homes. In front of the couch is a glass top table. On top there is a book on famous bands, and another about the guitars. His rug has a nice pop of color, its subtle pattern with different shades of blue.
"The kitchen is this way." He says catching your attention.
Following him towards the side of the house that doesn't share a wall with your place. His kitchen looks exactly like yours, just with less decorations. He places the bag of food on the table. You take this as your sign to sit down. Taking a seat you watch as he looks around the fridge.
"What would you like to drink?" He asks.
"Water is fine."
Grabbing two bottles, he joins you at the table.
You both sit there silently eating for a few minutes. "How long have you been a nurse?" Vernon asks between bites.
"This is my third year."
He takes another bite of his burrito.
"How long have you been working at the radio station?" You found his station a year and half ago. You're curious if he's worked there for longer.
"A little under two years."
"Your radio show is something I listen to every night at work." The moment you say it, you instantly feel embarrassed.
"You listen to my show?" He raises his brow and gives you a smile.
"Yeah." Your cheeks flush bright red.
You take another bite of your burrito. Vernon can't help but watch you. He's always thought you were cute, and now as you sit across from him blushing he's reminded of just how strong his crush is.
"I like that you listen to my show ."
"Your voice is soothing." Now it's his turn to blush. Who knew the cute nurse that lived next door likes his late night radio show.
"Do you have any songs that you recommend I play?"
"I could give you a few."
You both finish your breakfast and you give Vernon a list of your favorite songs. He gives you his own list, suggesting that they make a good playlist.
Standing at Vernon's door he's standing in front of you. His hands are shoved in his pockets as he watches you carefully.
"This was really nice. Maybe we could hang out more and get to know each other." Suddenly butterflies are fluttering in your stomach. It sounds like Vernon is asking you out. That's maybe because he is, he's trying his hardest to be nonchalant, and not be awkward.
"I would like that." You're trying to play it coy.
"Maybe I'll see you again soon Ms. night owl."
"Maybe you will, Mr. radio host."
Walking out the door, you can't help but smile. The butterflies are still fluttering, and your cheeks feel as warm as the sun. Walking into your apartment, you lean against the door.
You let out a sigh and close your eyes. You feel like a giddy school girl, whose crush finally noticed them.
LATE NIGHTS THINKING ABOUT YOU.
Sitting in the break room your headphone is snuggly placed in one ear. You're scrolling through your phone while listening to Vernon's radio show. You're finally getting a proper lunch. Your last few patients have left you absolutely exhausted.
Vernon hasn't spoken in a few songs, he's been playing some songs he's mentioned being his favorite. You can't help but smile, realizing that almost all of them have been songs that you mentioned to him that you love. It feels as if he's dedicated his show tonight to you.
Minghao sits down across from you. Raising his eyebrow he slides you a cup of coffee. You take out headphone.
"Do you mind taking your break with me, or do you prefer listening to your radio boyfriend?" There isn't a single day Minghao doesn't tease you about your crush on Vernon.
"Feel free to join me." You take your other earphones out.
He opens a cup of fruit. He carefully takes a piece of pineapple before taking a bite. You silently watch him, knowing that he's definitely going to have something to say to you.
"Were you listening to your radio boy?" And there it is. He's not going to miss an opportunity to bring up Vernon.
"Yes. He was playing songs I told him about." You try not to blush thinking about this.
Minghao raises his brows. "Oh, radio boy took song recommendations from you?"
"Yea." You reach across the table and steal a slice of strawberry from his fruit cup.
"That's interesting." He knits his brows at you. He stabs another piece of pineapple.
"What do you mean?"
"It sounds like radio boy is flirting with you." Minghao says smoothly as he pushes the cup of fruit towards you.
"It kinda felt like he was when we hung out yesterday after work."
Minghao's eyes immediately go wide. "You hung out with him?"
"Yeah after our last shift. We bumped into each other in the elevator and he asked if I wanted to come over to his place for breakfast."
"My sweet beloved oblivious friend, Vernon is flirting with you."
You hope he's right and that Vernon is actually flirting with you. It felt like he was last night, but you weren't sure if you're reading too much into it.
-
Being at the radio station feels like home to Vernon. Since he’s started working here. He absolutely loves hosting his own radio show. Vernon had one idea for his show tonight, and that was he was going to play the bands you mentioned to him. This is his not so subtle way of dedicating his show to you. It's been so long since Vernon has been interested in someone. Most of his relationships in the last couple of years have just been sexual, but there is something about you that makes him want more. In his eyes you're the perfect girl.
You're sweet, beautiful and funny. He loves the fact that you’re a nurse, and you clearly care about people. He likes the fact that you seem to be a little awkward, he thinks it's charming.
He started playing a song he remembers you mentioning. He takes off his headphones and looks across the studio to see Seungkwan watching him.
"These aren't the usual bands you play." Seungkwan says walking closer to desk.
Vernon shrugs, and leans back. "I had a friend recommend these bands." He can't help but smile.
Seungkwan sits down at the guest host chair across from Vernon. "A friend?" He raises his brow.
"Yeah a friend."
"Is this supposed friend your neighbor, the one you have a crush on?" Seungkwan knows all about you. After hearing Vernon talk about his cute night nurse neighbor for months, he's well aware his coworker/best friend is down bad.
"Possibly." Vernon doesn't even bother denying he's got a crush. He has no problem with anyone knowing that he likes you. He's just oddly nervous you'll find out.
"Is she listening?"
Vernon takes a slow deep breath. He knows you listen while you're at work on your break, and when you get a few moments to yourself, but he doesn't know when you're actually able to listen.
"I hope so."
Seungkwan grabs a set of headphones and puts them on. He gives Vernon a cheesy smile. "Your song is ending, maybe mention when you talk that a special someone recommended this band."
Vernon puts his headphone back over his ear. The song wraps up and he turns his mic back on.
"That was 12:34 by The Band Camino. A special someone recommended this band, and it's safe to say they are officially on my playlist. Night owls were in the final half out of our late night hang out. To end the night, here are some other songs recommended by that special someone."
Seungkwan is trying his hardest not to smile. Vernon rolls his eyes and lifts his headphone off his ear again. He clicks his mic off quickly.
"You can tease me all you want. I'm aware I'm down bad for my neighbor."
EARLY MORNING CONVERSATIONS
Walking into the lobby you see the man you were hoping to see. Vernon is standing in front of the elevator. You immediately notice he pressed the button. You walk towards and nudge him the moment you stand next to him.
"Hi there, neighbor."
"Howdy, miss night nurse." He reaches out pressing the button on the elevator.
"Fancy meeting you here."
The doors open and Vernon holds out his hand. You walk in first and he follows right behind you. He quickly press your floor.
"How was your night?" He leans up against the railing.
"Long, how about yours?"
"It was pretty good. Did you listen to my show?"
You take a step towards him, leaning against the railing next to him. You want to play it cool. You don't need him to know that you were practically giddy at work, about the fact he basically only played songs and bands you mentioned.
You shrug your shoulders and smile. "I listened to it."
"Did you hear the songs played, were just for you?" He gives you a grin.
"I did. I heard you say a special someone recommended those bands."
He lets out a soft laugh. "You have good taste in music."
Looking down your cheeks burn. This once again feels like you're both flirting. It's time to be confident and just fully flirt back.
"That's a massive compliment coming from you." You look back up at him, and smile.
"Is that because I'm a radio host?"
"No, it's because you have good taste."
"I have good taste?"
"I think so. So you think I'm a special someone?"
The elevator doors slide open. You step away from him, as he follows right behind you.
"I like to think so."
Suddenly the hallway feels so small. Part of you wishes it was smaller so you could be closer to him.
Silently you both walk down the hallway together. Vernon is walking close by you. Every couple of steps, your hands brush against each other. You don't want to just go into your apartment and go to bed. You want to spend time with him.
You stop in front of both of your apartments. "You know I just worked a full shift, and I'm not tired."
He leans against his door. He gives you a crooked smile. "Me neither. I don't know, did you maybe want to hang out?"
"Sure."
Vernon pushes himself off the door. Reaching into his pocket he fishes out his key. Opening the door he steps inside, and holds it open. You both kick off your shoes.
Heading over to the couch you sit down, and he sits down right next to you. Your thighs are touching. Vernon turns on the tv, that's sitting on a stand under the window. He has the curtains open, so you can see the sun starting to rise. The sky is painted beautiful cotton candy shades of orange and pink.
Picking up the remote he turns on a random drama that's playing. "Do you mind if we watch this?" He's crazy if he thinks you can actually focus on anything playing.
"Sure."
You get about twenty minutes in before he rests his hand on your thigh. Trying to play it cool you glance down at his hand.
"I like spending time with you." He says glancing over at you.
"I like you." For some reason your brain decides not to use its filter and you just blurt out you like him.
He moves on the couch so he's facing you. Reaching out he pushes some stray hair away from your face. Everything moves in slow motion as he rests his hand on your cheek. Slowly he drags his thumb across your cheek.
"I like you too." He says softly. Slowly he starts moving in closer to you. The idea of kissing Vernon would make you weak in the knees if you weren't already sitting. "I think I have had a crush on you since the first time I saw you struggling to carry in your groceries." He drags his thumb across your bottom lip.
"I had a crush on your voice and then I realized you're my neighbor." You lean in closer. You rest your nose against his. "Vernon?"
"Yes?" His lips are so close to yours.
"Please kiss me." You don't care if you sound desperate, you need to kiss him.
The moment your lips touch for the first time you feel those sparks everyone has always mention in the romance novels. Your lips move together in perfect sync. He's like fresh air in your oxygen deprived lungs.
Pulling away slightly he grabs your hips, helping guide you on to his lap. Neither of you can seem to keep your hands to yourself. His hands are anywhere they can touch. He moved from kissing your lips, to leaving a wet trail of kisses across your jaw, and down your neck. Occasionally he nips at your skin, definitely leaving marks across your delicate skin. Minghao is going to have a heyday when he sees you sporting hickies from your neighbor.
Closing your eyes, you lean your head back. Biting your lip can't stop the moans passing your lips. Instinctually you roll your hips against his crotch. One of his hands focuses on squeezing your breast. The other is plastered to your side. You're dressed in a pair of leggings and with each roll of your hips, you feel his jean cover erection giving you the perfect amount of friction.
Tangling your finger in his hair, you tilt his head back slightly. "Vernon—" his name is nothing more than a broken moan.
"Yeah, baby?"
"Please—"
"Please what?"
"Please fuck me." You're desperate and you just want to feel him inside you.
"God, you're incredible."
Pulling away you scramble off of him. You make quick work of stumbling out of your clothes. The quicker you get naked the better. Vernon stands up and strips down to his boxers. You're standing in front of him completely naked, while he's standing there in just boxers, and erection straining against them.
"Are you going to get naked?"
"After I eat you out." He tilts his head at you. That's definitely not what you thought he was going to say. Most men you've been with have never openly offered to go down on you.
"Oh."
"Lay down on the couch, baby and spread your legs."
You don't need to be told twice. You make quick work of laying down and spreading your legs. Vernon sits on his knees between your spread legs. He starts kissing the top of your breast, taking his time toying with each nipple. He starts his descent down, leaving a trial of wet kisses from the valley of your breast, down to your mound. He leaves one last kiss there before looking at you with almost pleading eyes.
"Can I?" That might be the stupidest question he could ask right now. You push yourself up on your elbows so you can watch him.
"God, yes." He moves so he's laying on his stomach with his face pressed up against your needy core. You're already drenched and you know he's going to make you cum easily.
With two fingers he parts your folds. He starts off by licking your sensitive clit a few times. Pulling back, he runs his index finger through your folds. He looks at his finger that's already wet.
"Is this all, just from us making out and dry humping?"
"Yea." Your cheeks burn bright. God it's hard not to be embarrassed at how easily turned on he makes you.
"Baby don't be embarrassed, I think that's so hot." He slips his finger into his mouth, licking it clean. "God, you taste incredible."
He leans back in and starts sucking on your sensitive clit. He slides one finger into you, and starts thrusting it in and out of you testing the waters. He can tell by your whimpers and moans that you're enjoying this. He adds another finger, slowly stretching you out. He's a little bigger than average, and he knows that he needs to make you cum at least once.
Without thinking you tangle your fingers in his hair. You rut your hips against his face. He's focused on making you cum. He loves how desperate you are as you chase your high. He moves his fingers in a come hither motion, touching that spot inside you that has you seeing stars.
"Vernon—" you moan his name like a sinful prayer.
Your sweet sinful moans egg him on. He keeps up his good work, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Without thinking he ruts his hips against the couch, for some sort of friction.
"Right there." You release his hair. Dropping back on the couch, you squeeze your eyes shut. Your orgasm hits you hard and fast. The air feels like it's been knocked out of your lungs. Your gummy walls flutter against his fingers. He slowly pumps them in and out of you, helping you ride out your high. He pulls his face away from your needy pussy. He lost in a haze of lust watching you unfold.
"That was the hottest thing I have ever seen."
Your eyes slowly flutter open. Staring up at the ceiling you're trying to calm down. "I need you to fuck me."
He pushes himself up on his knees. "You're so cute when you're needy."
"Do you need me to beg?" You push yourself back up on your elbows.
"Absolutely not. How do you feel about riding me?" He hops off the couch. He kicks off his boxers leaving him just as naked as you. He looks absolutely beautiful, and you normally don't think guys have pretty cocks, but that might be because you've never seen his. It's a little longer than average, but thick and a pretty rosey pink.
"Sounds perfect."
"Let me grab a condom." He sprints off naked to his bedroom to fetch a condom.
He gives you just enough time to stand up. Walking back into the living room he tears the foil package open with his teeth. He wastes no time rolling the rubber down his straining length.
Sitting back down on the couch he taps his thighs. Crawling onto his lap you waste no time grabbing his cock. You pump your hand up and down a few times.
"I need to be inside of you, so fucking bad."
Lifting your hips you guide his length to your needy entrance. Ever so slowly you sink down his thick cock, giving yourself time to adjust. It's been quite a long time since you last had sex.
The moment he's fully inside, you let out a sigh. Your butt is flush against his thighs. You don't bother trying to move. For a long moment you just want to enjoy the feeling of him stretching you out.
Leaning towards he starts kissing your collar bone. He starts kissing the side of your neck before he moans against your skin. "You feel so good."
"I just need a minute." You moan.
"I could stay like this forever."
"You're big, my body just needs a second."
He helps to distract you by playing with your breast. He suddenly has a fondness for playing with your tender nipples.
Slowly you lift yourself up, until everything but his mushroom tip is out. Dropping back down he brushes that special place inside of you.
"Fuck—" he moans.
You keep a steady pace, sliding up and down his length over and over. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close to you. With each brush of his rosey tip against your g spot, he's pushing you closer to the edge.
His hand moves to your hips, helping to guide you up and down. Your pace changes when you stop bouncing and start grinding against him. This angle feels completely different for both of you. With each rut of your hips your clit brushes against the well trimmed pubic hair at the base of his cock.
Smashing your lips into his, you desperately try to muffle your whiney moans. Reaching between you he starts rubbing your clit.
"Fuck—" Your body feels like a live wire on the brink of exploding. "Please. Harder."
He focuses on making quick hard circles against your clit. Breathless gasps pass your lips, and you rut your hips at a quick, desperate pace.
"Cum for me, baby."
The ice cold wave that hits your body is like nothing of this world. Your gummy walls flutter like a rapid beating heart. You still for a moment, your head tossed back and you moan. Vernon's hands grip your sides a little tighter, helping to guide you against him. His own release is so close.
With each thrust of his cock against your fluttering walls you moan. Your fingers tangle in his hair again, desperate for something to hold on to.
He lifts his hips up over and over again, helping you both. His own orgasm breaks hard and fast. He slams you down against his thighs, grinding himself against your slowly. He lets out a mix of low moans and groans.
The aftermath of both your orgasms, leave you both exhausted.
Slowly you crawl off of him. He takes a moment to dispose of the condom before dragging you off to the bathroom. You both step into his shower, tub combo for a quick shower to clean yourself up. He takes this time to gently clean you up, before dragging you off to his bed.
His bedroom looks just how you thought it would. He's got a bookshelf near the window with more vinyls and some fun figurines, and a few vintage looking video game consoles. His bed is one of those lower to ground bed frames, with led lights built into the headboard. His comforter is a light blue and grey plaid one. His room feels very like him.
Laying in the bed you stare at him, not sure what to say. He rolls over so he's facing you. Reaching out he laces his fingers with hours.
"What's on your mind?" He asks.
"What happens now?" You aren't sure you could handle this becoming an awkward one nightstand.
"Well I was thinking, I'm off today and if you're off maybe we could spend the day together."
You knit your brows together. "Like a date?"
He lets out a little laugh and smiles. "Yes, I'm asking you out on a proper date. I maybe should have asked you out before we had sex on my living room couch. I just couldn't help myself."
"I would really love to go on a date with you."
He leans in and presses his lips to your for another kiss. "Are you still going to listen to my radio show all the time, even though we're dating?"
"Absolutely."
"That's good. I can't wait to start dedicating all the love songs to you."
Turns out working the night shift and becoming a night owl is one of the best decisions you've ever made.
content warning: 18+ content, minors dni! face riding/nose riding, smut, cunnilingus, use of nicknames, squirting, slight manhandling, spanking, lmk if i missed anything.
wc: 750 words
a/n: hihi loves <3 this was requested by anonnie :3 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated <3
LEE HEESEUNG
⤷ “Fuck—your pussy smells so fucking good, sit on my face right now.”
You lower yourself onto him, moaning loudly as his nose tip brushes firmly against your swollen clit, “Heeseung—your nose feels so good right there,” you whimper, starting to grind on his face.
Heeseung groans deep, hands yanking your hips down harder until you’re practically smothering him. “Yeah? Then ride my face like you mean it, baby. Grind that pretty clit on my nose—fuck, you’re dripping all over my tongue.” His tongue laps hungrily as you roll your hips faster, coating his chin and cheeks.
“Shit— I’m gonna cum so fast like this,” you gasp, tugging his hair as your thighs start to tremble around his head.
Heeseung’s eyes flutter, completely lost in you as he groans against you, “that’s what I want. Keep rubbing your clit on my nose, cream all over my fucking face. Don’t stop, I’m fucking addicted to this cunt. Use me—let me feel you shake.”
PARK JONGSEONG
⤷ “Come here, sweetheart. Sit on my face, let me take care of you, yeah?”
Jay lies back on the couch, guiding you gently but firmly over his face. When his big pretty nose presses and brushes against your clit, you let out a shaky moan. “Fuck,” you breathe, rolling your hips as he practically basked in your scent, your taste.
His hands rest on your thighs, thumbs stroking softly as he looks up at you with dark eyes. “Good girl. Ride my face nice and slow at first, feel my nose rubbing your pretty clit?” His voice is low and muffled, tongue flicking teasingly, “you’re dripping for me, baby.”
You whimper, grinding a little harder, “Jay—please, I need more—”
He smiles against you, voice commanding. “That’s it, baby, grind harder. Use my mouth however you want, I’ve got you. I want to feel you fall apart on my tongue.” He does not stop, continuing to knead your tits, groaning into your cunt as you whine, making a mess all over his pretty face, and he takes it all as if he had been starving.
SIM JAEYUN
⤷ “Fuck yes—get over here. Sit on my face, baby, please.”
Jake pulls you down eagerly the second you’re close enough. The moment his big nose brushes your swollen clit and his soft plush lips latch onto your folds, he lets out a loud, desperate moan that vibrates straight through you. You shiver hard, gasping as you start to grind.
He groans deeply into your cunt, hands gripping your ass tight, pulling you closer like he can’t get enough. “Mmmph—fuck,” is all he manages, the sound muffled and needy as he sucks and licks like a man starved. His tongue works messily, plush lips sucking your clit while his nose keeps rubbing perfectly with every roll of your hips.
“God, you’re such a munch,” you moan, riding his face faster.
Jake only answers with a broken, happy groan, almost like a puppy, “Hm, yes—” His hands squeeze your thighs harder, desperately urging you to grind more as he devours you, completely lost in your taste. He keeps moaning loudly against your pussy, the vibrations making your legs shake, too focused on eating you out to form full sentences, all till you squirt all over his face, and he looks like a pleased man as he drinks it up.
PARK SUNGHOON
⤷ “Don’t keep me waiting, get on my face.”
Sunghoon doesn’t bother laying down. Instead, he lifts you effortlessly, pinning your back against the wall as he hooks your thighs over his shoulders. The moment he buries his face between your legs, his big pretty nose grinds roughly against your swollen clit, making your whole body jolt.
“Sunghoon—wait, fuck—” you gasp, hands flying to his hair as your back arches off the wall.
He pulls back just enough to look up at you with dark, narrowed eyes, “ride my face properly, hm? Be a good girl.” His voice is low and icy. Without warning, he yanks your hips forward, forcing your dripping cunt to drag across his tongue and nose.
You moan loudly, grinding down as best you can while suspended in the air, “It’s too much like this, god—I can’t.”
A sharp slap lands on your ass, making you cry out, “you can, and you will.” Sunghoon’s tongue presses flat and rough against your folds while his nose keeps rubbing hard, deliberate strokes against your clit, “grind harder c’mon, I want to feel this greedy cunt twitching on my face.”
Your thighs start shaking around his head as the intensity builds fast, “Sunghoon, please—”
“Begging already?” He scoffs coldly, grip tightening on your thighs as he forces you to ride his mouth faster, “pathetic, but you’re going to cum anyway—right on my tongue. Don’t you dare hold back.”
There will be a scar on my heart for the rest of my life and I will ache every time I remember that scar just like the previous scars still ache ....somethings worse than death but maybe you been dead inside for awhile
8thmember!reader sat down with enhypen for dinner at their dorm when the after food silence hits, after jokes and loud laughing; Heeseung breaks the silence, clearing his throat and sitting up, to announce he is planning to leave.
The silence was no longer comfortable.
8thmember!reader with tears welling up in her eyes and while everyone is talking and discussing, she stays silent looking down.
8thmember!reader starts to ignore Heeseung with the days passing, everyone can see it. But they get shut down by her.
8thmember!reader eats less, dinner is less normal with the members but she sits there silent. Pushing the food around her plate. Fork scraping. Static in her head. Heeseung staring at her intently.
8thmember!reader who says enhypen saved her. Her family. Her brothers. And she starts to forget as they haven’t heard her voice in days.
8thmember!reader who one day is in the kitchen at 3am drinking water when footsteps emerge from behind her.
8thmember!reader who sees heeseung and just stares. And after the silence with the fridge humming and cars outside, he speaks.
“Im sorry-“
8thmember!reader who cuts him off, whispering, “you idiot”
8thmember!reader who walks towards him and punches his shoulder, “you idiot, i hate you”
Tears flood your vision and you stares at the ground. Heeseung stands still watching you. He knows you need this.
“you IDIOT, I HATE YOU. DID YOU KNOW HOW MUCH YOU MEANT TO ME?” your words trail of into a whisper again, “ i cant believe you”
You begin to crouch to his feet sobbing and your hands holding onto his pants, gripping so tight as if you let go that this would all actually be real. Heeseung stands still above you staring straight foward as he begins to cry.
Tears running down his cheeks, he crouches down slowly to your fragile body, gently rubbing your back as if hes scared you will break.
only two years post-debut, NAPE are the band to beat, and you might be the only woman in london whose heart races in a bad way at the sight of their guitarist—your ex-boyfriend, jay.
pairing ✩ jay park x fem!reader
genres: band au, exes to lovers, smut, fluff, angst | warnings: minors dni, reformed evil guy jay, set in london (#SCOTLANDFOREVER), so many english people (#SCOTLANDFOREVER), yn is #GoingThroughIt #Confused, hoseok is the bus driver, BLATANT PLAGIARISM OF SONGS BY EXISTING ARTISTS SORRYYYYYYYY | word count: 37,699
playlist: lover, you should've come over by jeff buckley ✩ puddles by not for radio ✩ eventually by tame impala ✩ where do broken hearts go by one direction ✩ 505 by arctic monkeys ✩ no control by one direction ✩ stateside by pinkpantheress ✩ you da one by rihanna ✩ change your ticket by one direction
from zo: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASAHICORE !!! wow u are 23.25 now! amazing. youngest person ever. happy reading to everyone else and go wish asahicore a happy birthday rn. AS ALWAYS SHARE FEEDBACK OK LMK WHAT U THINK !!!
BACKSTAGE WITH NAPE ON THE ‘NO WAY BACK’ TOUR.
By: Daydream Mag. Photographs by: Heeseung Lee, Jay Park, Jake Sim & Sunghoon Park.
4:02 P.M. SUNDAY, MARCH 9, 2025. PARIS: If you’re one of NAPE’s four members, how do you spend the hours before the final show of your sold out tour? By sleeping, calling your mum, watching YouTube mukbangs, or taking film photos of your bandmates doing any of the above.
In broken Frenglish, guitarist, Jay, plays tour guide for the green room they’ve made home over the course of their three day concert at the iconic Le Trianon. “Did you know that Rihanna played here?” he asks, eyes wide as he swats away Sunghoon’s camera. “And Kesha, and Fifth Harmony? So many legends and now we’re here—crazy downgrade.”
This same eager, mildly insecure, energy permeates the green room as the band discuss highlights from the last two months on the road — riding a beer bike in Manchester, seeing the Eiffel Tower at midnight — and express how much they wish the tour could last forever. “Performing is the absolute best part,” Jake says between slurps of cup ramen he brought with him from London. “We’re always trying to find local pubs to play in because we can’t get enough.”
“That’s where it all started anyway,” explains their half-asleep frontman, Heeseung. “Playing in pubs, busking in Zone 5 shopping—
“Well, well, well,” Aeri says, appearing over your shoulder and catching you in the act. “If it isn’t Little Miss NAPE-hater drooling over a two-page spread.”
A chill runs down your spine and you couldn’t have dropped the magazine quicker if you tried. At your feet, it clatters with a flinch-inducing thud that rings throughout the deserted entrance of your local twenty-four hour Tesco. Neither you nor Aeri make any move to lift Daydream Mag’s summer 2025 issue from the speckled tile, so from its glossy cover, the face you’ve come to loathe gazes up at you through lidded eyes.
You scoff, affronted by the very suggestion. “I’m not you, Aeri. I wasn’t drooling.” And even if you were drooling, it certainly would not have been over Jay Park and his band of idiots. “It’s a four-page spread, by the way.”
“Same difference.”
Over Aeri’s shoulders, the sun’s first rays are threatening to shine through the glass on what is already an obscenely hot day for September. Dye slips from her damp hair down her face like blood, staining her white collar red, and you watch as she takes a picture of the magazine on the floor between your feet and hers before picking it up. She posts the picture to her story with one of NAPE’s songs playing and tags them so they can eventually see it and repost. They’re always doing that—reposting things fans tag them in. Satisfied, Aeri puts the magazine back in its place on the shelf, between Interview and the last copy of Dazed that has a photo of NAPE’s bassist and drummer laying together on the cover like something from a CEO yaoi. You have no idea how or when they got so popular.
Finally, leaving the band behind, you and Aeri loop your sweat slick arms and move through the aisles. You sniff and review scented candles; browse the books on the shelves, sharing thoughts on the ones you’ve read; and pick up snacks with Clubcard discounts, all on the way to find the one thing you came for at this time of night: salted caramel cheesecake cookies. Along with the rest of the internet, Aeri’s boyfriend has been raving about them since he tried them two weeks ago, and the three of you have been on high alert ever since. You even reached out to Somi’s little cousin, Riki, whose ex-girlfriend has a friend that works here to see when they’d be back in stock.
She told him to kill himself.
This is why, when you finally see them — fully stocked and still warm in their bags — you gasp. Understandably, when Aeri tries calling her boyfriend, he doesn’t answer, but you take as many as you can carry and run for the self-checkout.
Under the purple sky, you and Aeri walk all the way home, carrier bags in hand. It takes a lot not to eat all thirty cookies as soon as you cross the threshold, but, in an exercise of immense self-control, you leave them in the bread bin, and bid your flatmate goodnight.
Love her as much as you’ve come to, you often find yourself wishing it was some incredible story that brought the two of you together. A great tale of intertwined fates and instant connection. Instead, you found Aeri on spareroom.co.uk and when you deemed each other harmless enough, you signed the lease and moved in. It took a few months for you to shake off your anxiety and say more to her than, how did you sleep? but you got there in the end, and almost one whole year down the line, this flat and Aeri feel more like home every day.
As the working world’s alarms go off, you get into bed, showered and fresh-breathed, where sleep is reluctant to find you. One hundred counted sheep later, you give up and open Twitter. Now, you are mature enough to know better than to engage with content you know you’re not going to like—you’re not a critic. But… you are a hater. While NAPE haven’t yet brought forth the next strain of fandom-induced illness — à la Bieber Fever or One Direction Infection — they’re inescapable if you use the internet in any capacity. Profiles in magazines, Spotify playlist covers, constant viral concert clips: sweat-sheened skin and lidded eyes, long, thick ring-clad fingers strumming guitars or stroking mic stands. The tattooed back of their frontman populates hit tweets and Instagram Reels alike.
It’s not like you’re immune to attraction or allure. You have eyes. Eyes that widen at the sight of Sunghoon flexing his arms or Jake biting his lip. At Jay and his perfectly mussed hair that sits right at the junction of neat and messy. His two silver hoops in each ear. His dimpled cheek. How he sings with his eyes closed. The scar on his nose that you can only really see up close or when the light hits it just right. Keeping up with things like this is important because if you’re going to be a hater, you’d like to at least be an informed one. This is why, when you search for them on Twitter and the first tweet that comes up is the link to NAPE Catch Each Others Lies | Teen Vogue, you click with no hesitation.
It’s weird seeing them in motion like this, comfortable and joking around. Not singing. They’re decked head to toe in smart casual. Loose blazers and tailored trousers, fake glasses and neatly parted hair, smart shoes and polo shirts. Even though it’s different to their concert outfits and doesn’t really match what seems to be their vibe — evil-demon-fuckboy-rockstar — it suits them, highlighting their oddly perfect proportions.
From this video, you learn that Jay doesn't know any of their birthdays, Jake uses Sunghoon’s deodorant, and Sunghoon has never fallen asleep during rehearsal. Heeseung is also there. When the video ends, you fall asleep without a hitch, fresh linen and sweet dreams pulling you under.
Until you force open your heavy eyes to the sound of your phone ringing at eight o’clock—you slept for exactly two hours. It’s Aeri’s boyfriend. You can’t even speak when you answer, letting out a grumble instead. “Welcome to the land of the living, sweetheart!” he chirps, sounding much too awake for your liking. “Care to open the door?”
“Come back later.”
“But your breakfast will be cold later.” There’s a poutiness to his voice that would irk you if your hungry ears didn’t perk up at the sound of breakfast.
Turning over under the covers, you lean up on your elbows. “What’s for breakfast?” you ask slowly.
“Toad’s.”
To you — and the rest of London’s Gen Z population — Toad’s is the breakfast spot. At seven a.m. every day, there’s a queue that wraps around the corner. They recently issued a statement to request that customers stop selling their spots in line. Tired as you are, the thought of eating Toad’s without having lined up thrills you so much that you run straight to the door and fling it open. There stands Heeseung, a cup-holder in one hand and several paper bags in the other. A pair of sunglasses keep his bleach-fried hair from his forehead.
“You look nice,” he says, smiling as you step aside to let him in.
Smoothing out your hair with self-conscious palms, you inspect your face in the mirror beside him, seeing the crust lining the corners of your puffy eyes. “We are not close enough for you to speak to me like that,” you tell him, leaning into your reflection to clean yourself up a little.
Though you’re joking, mostly, Heeseung and Aeri have only been together for two months, and as her close friend, he should be on his best behaviour around you for at least the rest of his life. He frowns, apologising sincerely as he holds out one of the red and white paper bags. “Can I interest you in a forgive me choux vanille?”
The words make your heart race in your chest as you give a reverent nod, taking the bag from him.
“There’s, like, four of them in there—all yours.”
You have seen fanpages for these choux vanilles, you have been close to starting one yourself, and here, now, on a random Tuesday morning, standing in your hallway with NAPE’s frontman, you hold in your trembling hands a bag of, like, four of them. Later in life, when the time comes, you will name your firstborn after this man, probably.
“Heeseung,” you say softly. “Speak to me however you like.”
He laughs at that, as if he hasn’t just made your whole week. The soft sound breaks you out of your stupor and you help him carry all one million things he brought. “How’d you even get all this?” you ask over your shoulder, everything is still warm, perfect. “What time did you get there? What time did you even wake up?”
Heeseung follows you into the kitchen, his footsteps light against the hardwood. “Will you think I’m a prick if I say I’ve been up all night?” His question surprises you as you take in the sight of him once more—he is the picture of wakefulness with his bright eyes and glowy skin.
“Ah.” You set the goods on the counter, nodding as you take a picture of his haul. “Rockstar life, huh?”
A smile spreads over his lips as he rolls up his sleeves, tattoos appearing from under the white cotton, oddly sheepish. For an artist of his — their — size, with his — their — visibility, there’s a certain meekness to Heeseung that you thought was an act at first, but now you’re not so sure.
“Not even,” he mumbles, looking down at the dark worktop and describing the epitome of rockstar life. “We had this party thing in Soho, but it was dead so we went round this guy’s flat instead, and he stays proper close, as in the line goes by his front door—one of Jongseong’s friends…”
Whether Heeseung knows you’ve stopped listening at the mention of that name is anyone’s guess, but suddenly, your long-awaited Toad’s matcha tastes like nothing and your blood pumps thickly through your body. Loud in your ears. It’s one thing to anticipate seeing or hearing about him — watching that video before bed or bracing yourself for posters plastered in stations and around the city — but like this, so casually, from the mouth of your one person in common, it still shakes you up.
“Whoa.” He waves his large palm in front of your face. “You alright?” Concern creases his eyebrows.
An attempt at a light-hearted laugh stumbles from you. “Just sleepy.” A long, ungraceful moment dawdles by as he studies you, performing some form of assessment that you’re sure you’ve failed.
“Same, honestly,” he finally agrees, though he doesn’t seem convinced. “I’ll catch you in a bit, yeah?”
You nod, watching as he makes his way to Aeri’s room and snapping your neck in the other direction when he looks over at you. “You sure you’re alright?”
“Perfect!” you call out over your shoulder, all but sprinting to your bedroom.
In the privacy of your four walls, you sink into the chair at your desk and eat your steak, brie, and mushroom toastie. Half of it anyway, the thought of Jay is too distracting to enjoy it fully. You open Instagram before you even realise, hitting the search button and typing pzzong without a second thought. Eighteen hours ago, he made a post. A photo dump: his guitar in his lap, a blurry sunrise, a gym selfie with Sunghoon’s naked back in the mirror, a video of a lively crowd, and a piercing through his left eyebrow. Life is good, he wrote. The comments display varying degrees of thirst for Sunghoon. Blue ticks light up the screen as you scroll through them. Heart eyes from Bae Sumin. Best show ever babyyyyyyy from Yeh Shuhua.
Good for him.
Seriously.
You have committed a cardinal sin, for which you will never forgive yourself—you forgot your headphones at home. And so, like the rest of Central London, you’ve been subject to hearing the rustle of plastic on plastic in your bag as you walk down the street. As it turns out, no matter how delicious, eating thirty ginormous, sickly sweet cookies is quite difficult, so you’re taking them out to the pub where you’re meeting up with some friends.
The bell above the door at Ruby’s rings loud and clear over the radio when you step inside. For a Wednesday afternoon, it’s busier than you expect, patrons crowding the bar and tables alike, though you suppose, as one of them, that this is the way of the unemployed. Speaking of, Riki towers over everyone at the bar, oblivious or uncaring towards the pretty bartender’s fluttering eyelashes. At the sight of you though, he raises his bleached eyebrows, waving you over.
“Three p.m. tequila shots, don’t mind if I do,” you say, beaming into the rough collar of his denim jacket.
His hug is tight and brief. “Aw, yeah. I’ve got class in the morning,” he offers unhelpfully, holding up a clear shaker. “Salt?” Riki pours salt all over the back of your hand, more granules falling to your feet than sticking to the spot you licked, and hands you his wedge of lime. Holding up his shot with surprising steadiness, he says, “C’est la vie!”
Doing a shot of straight fire would burn less, but Riki isn’t fazed, grabbing you by the wrist and tugging you towards the back of the pub where the rest of your friends are. Yizhuo sees you first, peering over the booth and her face splits into a grin. You feel yours doing the same. She and Somi leap to their feet, pulling you into a hug and wrapping you up in a cloud of florals and spice and beer. “You’re alive!” Yizhuo cries out, pulling back to get a good look at you, her hand on your jaw to turn your face this way and that. “And still so beautiful!”
“Against all the odds,” you mumble, accepting the wet kiss Somi plants on your cheek with a smile. Right when you settle into the booth beside Yizhuo, texts from Aeri light up your phone screen, notification bubbles covering up the chestnut horse on your lockscreen.
aeri: heeseung said the guys can make it after all ! he promises they’ll behave
aeri: they’re not as bad as you think !!!
You groan around a long sweet sip of the cloudy IPA Somi ordered for you. “I’m meeting Aeri’s boyfriend’s friends tonight,” you mumble, sending a thumbs-up emoji in response.
“Wait.” Yizhuo pauses, looking over her shoulders before leaning over the table. “NAPE are going to be at your flat tonight?” she whispers, eyes wide and buggy.
What comes from your mouth is a disgusting sigh-groan hybrid that makes Riki flinch as you say, “The one and only.”
Somi’s entire face crumples and she hunches over, hitting her forehead repeatedly on the tabletop, making it wobble. “Why do good things keep happening to you instead of me?”
“This is public knowledge, I texted the chat like a week ago.” You lift your golden pint and Yizhuo’s dark Guinness from the table so they don’t slip off the edge. “Plenty of time, no?”
“A week ago…” Riki repeats, voice trailing off into nothing as he rubs his stomach and leans back in his seat. “That’s like an hour’s notice in employed people's time.” He sighs. “No offense, YN.”
“Okay, Big Rik.” You scoff. “You’ve had a job for ten minutes.”
He glances at his watch before squinting at you, venom written all over his cute little face. “And that’s ten minutes longer than you, is it not?”
“Did I do something to you?”
“You know what? I’m glad you br—” Somi cuts off her little cousin by shutting his mouth with her hand. “Can we please focus on the real issue, you’re partying with NAPE tonight and I can’t go.”
“Why not?”
“My mum’s up and we’re having dinner,” she says bitterly.
“Just come after.”
“Or don’t come at all!” Yizhuo butts in. “I have plans for Jake Sim tonight and I don’t need him getting distracted.”
Riki kisses his teeth, shaking his head. “I’m willing to bet a good amount of money that your plans involve staring at him from across the room, then blowing up the chat to talk about how you two caught a vibe.”
This is, to Yizhuo, the greatest offence — despite its truth — and you have to actually hold her back from leaping over the table to strangle Riki, but there’s nothing you can do about the string of insults that leave her mouth.
Somi’s ring-clad knuckles rap against your side of the table, right beside your glass. “Really sorry about Daydream, by the way. Seriously,” she says, frowning. “If it makes you feel any better, I heard a bunch of their permanent staff got laid off as well.”
Only now, with Somi’s sincerity, do you realise how long it’s been since you last saw your friends. Nearly three weeks have passed since you lost your job, and this is the first time the four of you have managed to get together. As much as you hate to admit it, Riki was right about needing loads of notice to schedule something as simple as day drinking at the pub. Your world used to revolve around your planner, with separate sections in your worn Filofax for work, personal, and social—which was, largely in part, due to your obsession with stationary. Sitting down on a Sunday night to plan out the week ahead was one of your main hobbies, pencilling in coffee dates and errand-run-hangout hybrids wherever you found an hour or two in common with one of your friends. If you didn’t live with Aeri, you’d probably never see her.
“You know what, Somi? Not really, but thank you.”
Undeterred, she beams at you. “One door closed is a million doors opened, I swear.”
“Cheers to that!” Riki grins, raising his shot glass to his cousin’s nonsensical proverb.
Pushing your doubts away, you raise your pint and toast to the possibility of a million doors opening up before you. Beautiful doors with even more beautiful things behind them, of course. You need all the luck you can get.
Somi has time to nurse another half pint before she has to leave, begging you to text her everything about tonight as it happens. You make no promises. It’s another four pints and a sunset before the rest of you get up to leave, zigging and zagging through the crowded bar out into the crisp fresh air. And because the speakers in the beer garden are playing music, different music to what was on inside, Riki makes you and Yizhuo sit shivering with him at a picnic bench so he can listen to Folded by Kehlani.
“Fuck, Riki,” Yizhuo mutters, rubbing her face with her hands when the second verse starts. “Don’t you have music at home?”
He rolls his eyes, pausing his singing to say, “I’m sure even you could appreciate that hearing a song you like in the wild is way better than listening to it at home.”
“I would love to agree with you, but I have central heating at home.” Your teeth chatter when you finish talking, and all you can think about is your bed and the multiple other ways you could be experiencing warmth at home right now. Hot water bottle. Electric blanket. Taking a bath. Cuddling with Aeri.
“You also have NAPE at home.” Yizhuo points out.
“We’re all going there, what’s your point?”
She pulls a face that you know means she’s not coming.
“We?” Riki repeats, eyes bulging out of his head. “I’m going home. There’s music at home, as Yizhuo so kindly reminded me.”
“Neither of you are coming? Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack, brother.” He nods solemnly, standing up from his seat as the song comes to an end. “None of my mutuals are going.” He pats his pockets, in search of the big three — phone, wallet, keys — before zipping up his jacket.
“Your mutuals…” Yizhuo trails off, eying him. “Riki, this is real life.”
“Also it’s literally my flat, where I live… I thought we were mutuals.”
“Ladies, please.” He holds up his hands defensively. “I can ragebait Jay Park any time, okay, I don’t need to go to your house to do that. I also think I reserve the right to sleep in my own bed tonight. Alone.”
“Who else would be in your bed?” Yizhuo scrunches her nose, pulling the fallen strap of her bag back up her shoulder.
Gesturing towards all six feet of himself, Riki licks his lips, stumbling just a little. “Have you seen me?” he asks, a smug smile curling over his mouth.
“Unfortunately, we have, princess,” you say, patting his back. “Let’s get you home.”
Ruby’s isn’t your favourite pub, but it’s the best option if you’re drinking with Riki, because he stays so close and the only way any of you will have peace of mind after a night out is if you actually see him getting into his flat and hear the lock clicking behind him. The three of you walk arm in arm with Princess Riki towering over you in the middle. It takes all of fifteen minutes to get to his place and then the station across the road. Side by side on the platform, Yizhuo bumps your hip with hers. “How are you feeling?”
Given the pile of her texts you haven’t yet returned, you have a good idea of what she’s referring to. Even so, you ask, “About?”
Yizhuo gives you a look, pursing her lips before mumbling your name. She got lucky, jumping off the slowly sinking Daydream ship in time to snag a senior editorial position at Interview. She’d encouraged you to do the same, move up in your career, but no, you just had to prove your unwavering loyalty to a company for which you were no more than a name on a list. A recipient for an email with the subject line: Notice of Organisational Changes. Hindsight, as always, is 20/20 and the signs were there before you even got to London. The Edinburgh office, where you’d worked since graduating, closed last summer for financial reasons. Transferring seemed like a no-brainer, a blessing, but if you knew you had a year left, you would’ve stayed put.
“The downtime’s nice.” Over the last three weeks you’ve fixed your sleeping schedule, started and finished eight books, gone home to see Minjeong, applied and been rejected from nine editorial positions, and played through all of Super Mario Bros. Wonder. Twice. “I do, however, enjoy receiving a salary, so it would be nice to work again. Quite soon.”
Yizhuo nods, squeezing your shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye out for openings, but it might help to get your work out there, keep you sharp and all that. Are you on Substack?”
You laugh in her face. It’s 2025, everyone is on Substack—including the two-hundred subscribers you panicked and abandoned when your page started gaining traction. “Yes, Yizhuo. I’m on Substack.”
“Perfect!” she exclaims and because this is the Central Line and Londoners do not care about anyone else, no one spares her a glance. Your cheeks burn anyway. A happy sigh falls from her lips, and she tilts her head. “Write and post, write and post. Anyone will read anything these days, just get your name and your gorgeous words online, and I promise, you’ll be rolling in opportunities.”
“Yizhuo…”
“I’m serious. Write about your crazy NAPE party tonight, God knows how many people would kill to be in your position.” She lets go of the handrail and makes a show of pointing at herself with both hands. “Just do something, okay? You’re too young to sit in your room watching TV all day. You need to leave your house and live your life and see your friends.”
“I know, Yizhuo. I know that,” you mumble, fiddling with the hem of your jacket. “It’s not on purpose or anything, I just… sometimes I need a day to do nothing, and then it’s two days and then it’s a week.” Your stomach curls in on itself at the thought. The longer you spend at home, the harder it is to leave. You had to psych yourself up this afternoon, staring at your reflection and repeating: my friends do not secretly hate me. My friends enjoy my company. I am good company.
She frowns. “I get that, really. But you don’t have to deal with everything on your own, you have friends. A lot of friends who love you and want to spend time with you.” It all sounds a bit like an affirmation tape, a YouTube subliminal, and maybe if those weren’t the exact words you needed to hear right now, you might have laughed. “Next time you’re home doing nothing, text me and we can rot together, okay?”
You nod.
“And please, please, please get some NAPE dick tonight and review it ASAP,” Yizhuo says, whispering the name of the band as if that was the worst part of her sentence.
“I’ll pass.”
“Not a request.”
“Okay, daddy. I’ll do it,” you say, which, of course, makes London’s so-called nonchalant population turn their heads in your direction.
Yizhuo’s head falls back with laughter and you look up at the map above the door. Seven more stops for you, though hers is next. She pulls you into a hug, and you hide your face in her puffer jacket, willing your cheeks to stop burning. It doesn’t work. When the doors slip open, she kisses your cheeks and says, “See you later, Kitten.”
Flustered doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel as you call out, “Text me when you’re home, okay?”
She nods and blows you a kiss before climbing the stairs, disappearing into the sea of commuters leaving the station while the doors close. The Tube chugs on, homeward bound. With Yizhuo’s words on a loop, you finish the rest of the journey home, relieved to feel the autumn wind on your cheeks when you get back outside.
Dread stirs a pit in your stomach as you hear the party before you even see your front door. And dread almost kills you as you take careful steps around the people sitting in the corridor to get inside. The music is loud but there aren’t as many people as you thought. It’s mainly just a bunch of influencers you recognise by IG handle instead of name—jenaissante and _chaechae_1 are stretched over your couch, yawnzzn laughs with you.th in the kitchen doorway.
Heeseung spots you before you have a chance to retreat to your room. He is elated and red all over, pulling you into a hug, and wrapping his warm tobacco scent around you. “Hello!” he yells into your ear, before gesturing behind himself. “Jake and Sunghoon.” NAPE’s bassist and drummer, the ones from the yaoi magazine cover you went back for a copy of, are somehow much better looking in person.
The camera doesn’t quite do justice to Jake’s large… everything. His eyes, nose, lips, and rose-tinted knuckles are so big and so beautiful. He tucks some of his hair behind his ear and smiles with all of his teeth. “Nice finally meeting you,” he says, seeming to mean it. Having a favourite member in a band where you know half of the members personally feels wrong, but Jake is that for you, and so, the tipsy fangirl-adjacent part of you gives him a hug that he graciously returns.
At his side, Sunghoon stands in a white button-up that clings to his huge biceps. Great. His hair is perfectly parted over his forehead, his tie tight and straight. His lips are plump and pink, pulling into a sheepish smile as he raises his huge hand to wave at you. The sight of it, the dimple in his cheek, sets off a flutter in your stomach and you can’t help giggling like he’s done something special. “We’ve heard so much,” he says. “I mean, J—” He groans, keeling over and clutching his ribs where Jake elbowed him.
“It’s true, Gigi’s always talking about you,” Jake finishes off like nothing happened. “Something to drink?”
Dazed, you blink at the band boy, but take him up on his kind offer of a drink in your home. Jake leads you through the sparse crowd, weaving artfully towards your kitchen and making small talk along the way. “I actually used to play in church,” he tells you, opening your cupboards and taking out what he needs. Absolut Vanilla, simple syrup. A sticky bottle of Schweppes swiped from the kitchen island behind you. “I wanted girls to like me.”
“Did it work?”
Jake looks up from the counter at you, a smile playing at the corner of his lips as he halts his mixology. “Of course it worked,” he says, disbelief written all over his face. “But I was too shy to do anything about it.”
“I see,” you say, struggling to conceal your laughter as he hands you a cup.
“Wasn’t for nothing though.” He shrugs, leaning against the counter. “I guess you could say I’m pretty confident these days.”
You’ve seen enough about NAPE online, fanwars and uproar about the personal lives of the members, to know firsthand he’s not exactly lying. This is the face of some of Pinterest’s favourite couple inspo, one half of the now-mourned JakeZuha. You’d met her once, Kazuha, at a work thing. One of Daydream’s holiday parties. She was nice, more than, even if she didn’t have much to say about anything that wasn’t her boyfriend. Their breakup in the winter had fanpages proclaiming that love was dead and that they were children of divorce.
The thought makes you laugh in his face and you’re just glad he laughs too as you clink the rims of your plastic cups together.
Armed with the sweetest vodka lemonade you’ve ever had, you head to your room, desperate to change out of your jeans. After triple checking the lock on your door, you leave your jeans in a heap at your feet, stepping out of them and towards your dresser, where you settle on your favourite grey sweatpants and resolve to only be photographed from the waist up. One large gulp of drink, a deep breath, and you pull open the door, returning to the party—if fifteen people in your flat can really be described as such.
Before you can go over and join Aeri, a knock at the front door catches your attention, though you seem to be the only one to hear it. The knock comes again and you roll your eyes, unwilling to apologise for noise at nine p.m. on a Friday night. You know your rights. At the sound of a third knock, you stomp over to the door and fling it open.
“Mrs. Kim, we—Jay?”
The last year of your life living in London has been long. A massive adjustment. Hiked up prices and supermarkets closing early on Sundays, learning Tube routes and constantly being an hour away from any given plan you’ve made. So much has changed. You have changed. You are not the same petrified grown up who left everything she knew to move here, nor are you the same lovestruck girl Jay abandoned all those years ago. Yet the sight of him, live and in person and standing at your door dislodges something in your chest. In your memories, those odd dreams you have from time to time, he always looks so grown up. Jay at twenty. Twenty-one. It had never occurred to you back then how young you both were, especially given that he was a year older. Reconciling that version of him with the 25-year-old man before you now is impossible. The last of his baby fat, those stubborn chubby cheeks you loved with everything you had are gone now.
Is there any part of him, of this stranger, that you still know?
His hair is slicked back, a few strands left down, streaking over his forehead in that handsome way. You’d always liked it back like this, though he rarely did it. Reserved it for special occasions. Grad Ball Jay. Anniversary Jay. 25-year-old Jay. Even though the sun is down, a huge pair of sunglasses rests on the straight bridge of his nose. The silver ball above his eyebrow shines in the light. Making sense of the odds in your mind is impossible. How, at once, you are pleased to see him and thoroughly disgusted by it. How after everything, he can look at you, smile, and say your name.
“Jay…” you say again, trailing off, uncertain and half-expecting him to vanish into thin air, like some hyperrealistic figment of your imagination, complete with the cologne he used to wear. Scent — his scent — that most powerful of senses that hurtles you into the past as soon as you catch it. Hurtles you long back into his soft hoodies. Into your bed where that same honey musk lingered on the sheets long after he left.
“It’s so good to see you,” he says, sincere as ever.
“I know,” you agree, stomach turning. Nervous. Nauseous. “I, uh, I do think I’m going to be sick, though.”
Before you have the chance to rush away from him, to do anything, you wretch and spew alcohol onto the doormat between his feet and yours.
Pinching yourself does nothing—this is not a nightmare to be woken from.
“Fuck,” Jay says, crouching into view. Concern drenches his features, the last thing you see before screwing your eyes shut. “Are you okay?”
Mortification creeps through every last inch of your body, settling between your bones. This is not happening. This can not be happening. Seeing Jay again was supposed to be an event of Princess Diana revenge dress proportions. You own a revenge dress! You had grand plans to make Jay Park regret the day he was born, never mind the day he dumped you. Yet here you are, in a crop top and joggers covered in your own vomit.
“Great, Jay,” you mutter. “I’m great.”
Against your better judgment, you let him take you to the bathroom where you lean over the toilet bowl. Nothing comes out, but he rubs your back and holds your hair away from your skin anyway. His gentle touch burns through your clothes. “Are you alright?”
Kneeling on the checkerboard linoleum with Jay at your side has been a real test of strength, though, even with your screaming joints, you’re certain it’s better than the alternative—actually having to look at him. Weepy-eyed and vomit-breathed. “I’m fine,” you say for the hundredth time, sighing. “You can stop asking now.”
He scoffs, an amused sound that heats your skin to hear. Behind your closed eyelids, you can picture the look on his face. Clearly see the lopsided curve of his lips, the hint of a dimple. “Alright, my bad for worrying after you threw up all over me.”
Your hair slips from his hold when you whip your head to face him, strands sticking to your neck as soon as they’re free. Frantically, your eyes search his dark jeans. “It got on you?”
Jay smiles and he is so painfully gorgeous in the warm light of your shared bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub. Seeing him here, seeing him at all makes your heart stutter. “No, YN.” He shakes his head, quickly, voice a low rumble. “You’re all good.”
You hum, raking a hand through your hair. “I’m all good,” you agree.
Now that your level of goodness has been sufficiently clarified, Jay clears his throat. “Alright, champ,” he says, as if you are an eight-year-old little boy while helping you to your feet in much the same manner. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”
On your waist the weight of his palm, the heat of it, is dizzying, and your alcohol consumption and post-vomit fogginess do nothing to stop the room from tilting. “Don’t touch me,” you croak, wriggling out of his grip. The words are rough on your throat.
Ever respectful, he lets go at once, stepping back and apologising as he flushes the toilet. A thrum of irritation flares in your head, hammering at your skull, at how easily that word came out of him, sorry, slipping from his little pink mouth and over the smallest thing. At once, the desire to wring his neck and to press your lips against his spar in your head. Neither wins. “So that you can apologise for,” you say under your breath instead.
Somehow, the look he gives you — tilted head, wide eyes, lips ajar — is the worst thing that’s happened since he arrived. Jay pities you, his scorned lover. The tightness in your chest is immediate, a thick knot that won’t give. Before he can speak, you turn away to clutch the sink and it is a grand effort. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“It’s fine, Jay. I’m fine,” you say, though it is the furthest thing from fine you can think of. “It was a big deal to me and not to you. We’re over it, we’re fine.”
In the mirror, he looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, like you are Patrick Zweig asking for Tashi Duncan’s coaching. “Not a big deal to me?” he repeats, incredulous. “Are you kidding? Who said it wasn’t a big deal to me?”
You cover your face with your hands, sighing into your palms. “We’re not having this conversation.”
“I think we need to.”
“Yeah, Jay. We did,” you agree, catching his eye in the glass. It’s a mistake. “About three years ago before you up and left out of nowhere.”
“Out of nowhere?” he says, as if he absolutely must repeat everything that comes out of your mouth. “I was always moving back here, YN. That was always my plan, you knew that.”
Your eyes sting at the corners. Tears eager to spill. He’s right. You did know that. Jay made it explicitly clear. But there had been a time back then, when you were a part of those plans too. When his tongue slipped around I and we like they were the same thing. They were. To you. When we go to London… He brought you here that last winter. You drank Bailey’s hot chocolate at Winter Wonderland and met his parents. Met Heeseung. Jay had a life here, a vibrant one, and with each day you spent together, it became harder to imagine him anywhere else. By the fireplace in his family home, he asked you if you liked it, liked London. Of course you did. The flame raged warm in his brown eyes when he asked if you could see yourself here, with him. Your heart was beating in your throat. You loved London, and you loved Jay even more. You would have moved to Aberdeen if that’s where he wanted to go.
“Jay?”
His gaze softens, gone is the harsh crease of his brow, his squinting eyes. It’s like staring the past dead in the face. Everything you wanted so badly and never got to have. “Yeah?” he says gently.
“Get to fuck.”
Jay clenches his jaw, nodding slowly. “If that’s what you want.” He closes the door softly behind him when he leaves.
It’s only now, alone, that you register the hammering of your heart, the thudding of your pulse in your ears. You cry into the sink until your head hurts. You brush your teeth. Wash your face.
Opposite the bathroom door, Jay leans on the wall. Sunglasses on. Bottle of water in his white knuckle grip. He holds it out for you to take and you sigh, far beyond the mood to hear whatever he has to say. Minted by Colgate and Listerine, the water is ice in your mouth. Refreshing. “Thanks.”
Jay flicks off the bathroom light by your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he says.
Together, you turn down the hall and into the living room. All of the guys — NAPE, at least — lapse into silence to watch you, though Heeseung is polite enough to pretend he’s not staring. Your stomach turns. Leaning up to Jay’s ear is grossly reflexive when you ask, “Do they—” You pause, pursing your lips and knowing the answer already. “Obviously Heeseung knows, but…”
“I told them.”
No matter how evil he was / is, he has every right to talk about what happened. About what he did. It’s Jay’s story as much as it’s yours, and he can do with it what he wants, regardless of how mortifying it is to think of other people knowing. What you did with it, and intend to continue doing with it, was keep the whole ordeal to yourself, like any other mentally sound adult woman would, which is obviously very healthy and working out really well for you. Jay had to move back home and we agreed it’d be best to end things. This is the version of events everyone else in your life has heard, and it’s what Minjeong and Jaehyun would have heard if it wasn’t for your living with them.
“Sorry,” he adds in a low voice.
That word again, easier than breathing it seems. “It’s fine.”
At the sight of you, Aeri’s face lights up and she stumbles out of Heeseung’s lap and over to you, taking you into her tattooed arms like it’s been an age since you last saw each other. In a way, you can’t believe it hasn’t been. “Here you are!” With her hands cradling your elbows, she takes a good look at you, eyes latching onto every part of your face. “You feeling okay?”
“Perfect!” Your voice is unusually high, strained.
“Heeseung cleaned up.” Aeri’s gaze flickers over your shoulder and she grins. “And I see you two have met.”
“Actually—” Jay starts, but you talk over him. “Yeah!” You face him, grinning too widely and extending a hand for him to shake. “Sorry about that. I’m YN.”
Only after a moment does his confusion clear and he takes your hand in his, shaking it. His fingertips are rougher than you remember, thick callouses boiling hot on your skin. “Nice meeting you,” he says, holding onto you for just too long. Too long for a conventional first meeting, anyway. No amount of time holding Jay Park’s hand could ever be long enough.
True peace and relaxation only find you when everyone has left, trickling out into London’s night time, cluster by cluster. Heeseung and his band boys stayed behind to tidy up and get their hands on one last pint before leaving your place even neater than they’d found it.
While you wash the breakfast dishes you abandoned in your room this morning, Aeri tiptoes into the kitchen behind you, humming happily to herself and pulling you into her arms. “They’re not so bad, are they?” Unfortunately, she and the rest of the world are correct. NAPE aren’t so bad after all. In fact, they are perfectly charming, and funny, and kind. Even their evil guitarist. You hum in response and focus on keeping a firm grip on your bowl as you move it to the drying rack.
“And…” She trails off, apparently waiting for you to finish her sentence. Much to her dismay, you do not. Aeri lets go of you and leans on the counter at your side, tipping her head to see your face. “What do we think of Jay?” she asks in a sing-song voice, and if she were referring to literally any other guy on the planet, you’d have smiled along with her.
But she isn’t and the sound of his name dries your mouth. “He’s… okay,” you say after too long. “Seems nice.”
Aeri’s jaw drops. “He’s okay?” Her disbelief is palpable, expressed through every part of her. “He held your hair while you threw up in the toilet and you think he’s just okay?”
“I actually didn’t throw up at all in the toilet,” you correct her, like that makes it any better, defensive in an off-putting way that makes you cringe. “But I guess the rockstar thing doesn’t really do it for me.”
“The rockstar thing,” she repeats under her breath, shaking her head. “What about the freakishly understanding thing? Or, I don’t know, the extremely fuckable guy thing?”
A pit takes over your stomach. “You’ve fucked him?” You don’t mean to ask, or to sound so dejected when you do, but the words come out before you can help it.
“Jesus, no.” Aeri sighs. “I’m not that lucky.”
You hate how relieved you are to hear it.
“He’s, like, impressively celibate. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had on, like, a chastity belt or some shit.” She shakes her head solemnly. “A damn shame if you ask me,” she starts, though quickly changes her tune. “But, you know, I’m obviously very lucky with Heeseung… yadda yadda yadda.”
A scoff comes out of you, but you can’t help the smile on your face. “Right.”
Aeri yawns and stretches her arms out over her head. “Believe me when I say I cannot wait to see the kind of person who does it for you.” It’s the last thing she says before she kisses your temple and heads for bed.
you: I threw up on Park Jongseong tn.
minjeong: YEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH
In bed, you open your phone and search for the thread you haven’t looked at in years. His contact still has a kissy face in it.
jongseong 😽: i got my shift swapped soooooo sleepover?
you: 😭😭😭 YES YES YES YES YES YES
jongseong 😽: hahaha leaving in 10 ❤️🔥
jongseong 😽: baby baby baby baby baby baby
Because this knife to the gut isn’t quite sharp enough, you search for the word dakgaejang, and those first messages come up.
jongseong 😽: hey yn! it’s jongseong from earlier, i hope you don’t mind me asking around for your number, i’m only now realising how creepy this is… i just wanted to make sure you were able to get home okay, and i’m really sorry i couldn’t walk you all the way back, i swear i meant to! and don’t worry about the hoodie, just hold onto it and stay cozy!!! if you have someone at home who can cook, my mom has this insane recipe for dakgaejang, that shit could cure anything, and if you don’t have someone at home who can cook, i’d be happy to whip some up for you when i get home and drop it off!!!
jongseong 😽: whatever works for you, okay? just lmk!
When you finally fall asleep, you dream of Jay. Of Jay and your university bedroom back in that freezing Edinburgh flat. At the foot of your bed, he hurriedly picked his clothes from the floor while your space heater roared into the cold. You leaned up on your elbows, but said nothing. You couldn’t speak. Finally, he saw you and froze in place. This was not the Jay of years past. Not Jongseong. It was Jay as he’d been last night. With his hair slicked back and his worn leather jacket over his broad shoulders. Still, he gave you that same look. Those same soft and sleepy eyes.
“Sorry, beautiful,” he mumbled, his voice low and thick. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
You shook your head. “It’s okay.”
All it took was one blink, and he was right there, kneeling at the side of the bed. “I’m glad we got to see each other again, YN. I’ve really missed you.” His palm rested on your cheek, calluses on the tips of his fingers. “Get some sleep, okay? I’ll be back soon,” he said. A dimple dented his cheek when you nodded, and his soft lips grazed yours—you wake up with a start, sweat-drenched and heavy breathing. Heart pounding in your chest. Tears welling in your eyes.
When you finally manage to get out of bed, you go straight to the shower. You don’t bother drying your hair after, which you will regret. On the kitchen counter, the kettle boils noisily, but you can’t bring yourself to worry about waking your flatmate. Can’t bring yourself to worry about anything other than the fact you haven’t been able to steady your breathing in the thirty minutes since you tore yourself from your damp cheeks.
A door clicks shut down the hallway, making you flinch. Heeseung appears in the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants. “How’d you sleep?” he asks through a yawn.
Your dream, Jay, comes to mind quickly and with no warning. The ghost of his palm on your cheek, his lips on yours, all so vivid like he’s here with you now. Like he really spent the night. “Same as always,” you say, clearing your throat. “You?”
“Slept alright.” He shrugs and takes a glass from the cabinet by your head, filling it up with water from the filter. “Are you going to tell Gigi or should I?”
The drop of your stomach is immediate. “Tell Gigi what?”
After a sip of water, he presses his lips into a flat line and takes a moment, like he’s carefully choosing his next words. “I know it’s none of my business but—”
“Stay out of it then,” you interrupt, pulling the kettle from the element and filling your mug. Instant espresso splashes onto the counter.
“But he’s really sorry, you know?” Heeseung says as if it makes a difference.
He’s sorry? Great! The urge to punch Heeseung in the face for his crime of simply having a functional relationship with your life’s great evil is overbearing. Your clenched fist trembles at your side and a maniacal laugh rips out of you. He takes a step back. Your coffee burns your tongue. “Wow, Heeseung! Why didn’t he just say so? Holy shit, this changes everything!”
“YN—”
Desperate for this conversation to be over, to bury yourself under your duvet and start again tomorrow, you cut him off yet again. “It’s not your mistake to fix.”
“You’re right.” Heeseung sighs. “I’m sorry.”
“Look, obviously you’re going to stick up for your friend, I get that and it’s fine. It’s just that I’m not exactly—” You pause, running a hand over your face. “I have a lot I need to figure out.” The awareness of how long you’ve had to do just that, and how long you’ve spent avoiding it, weighs heavy on your shoulders.
He nods, twisting the back of the stud in his ear. “Of course, YN. It’s just… you know…” He trails off, gesturing vaguely into the space between you with both hands. “I’m your friend too, I hope. And, it’s not like I think he can justify what he did, but it might be helpful to hear why he did it. From him?” he suggests, voice tipping upwards as your eyes get progressively more squinted.
The absolute last thing you need right now, is to hear Jay wax poetic about being a true artist and unlocking one’s inner self. How he absolutely had to leave and that was it, you weren’t allowed to be upset about it, because trapping an artist in a box would be like clipping a bird’s wings. Or something.
“Just think about it, yeah?”
For lack of anything better to do, you blow on your coffee, rippling the surface before taking a cautious sip. Over the rim of your cup, Heeseung is watching you, gnawing at his bottom lip with his teeth. If not for the twinkle of hope in his ginormous eyes, you wouldn’t give in and say, “Fine, I’ll think about it.”
His face lights up like you gave him a firm yes and he claps his hands together. “Are you free on Friday night?”
You splutter, coughing into your elbow as you put down your cup. “You’re giving me thirty-six hours to make up my mind?”
“No, not at all. No rush, I swear,” he says, waving his hands frantically. “We’re playing a show at The Helmet, and I thought it would be cool if you came along.”
Disbelief tugs at your brow. “You thought that?”
Heeseung opens and closes his mouth repeatedly, saying nothing. And if you weren’t so curious, you’d drop the subject and decline, but… “I think—” He starts, cutting himself off to look at the ceiling. Then, with his hand on his heart, “All of us would be honoured to have you there. Collectively.”
You’ve seen enough clips online to know that seeing NAPE perform, seeing Jay, would do horrible things for not only your healing journey, but for feminism at large.
As if sensing your reluctance, he adds, “You can come backstage and everything!”
“That would be lovely, Heeseung. No thank you.” Right as the words leave your mouth, Yizhuo crosses your mind and you ask, “Is Jake single?”
With saucers for eyes, he tilts his head. “Pardon?”
“Is he?”
“Are you asking for yourself?”
“Would that change your answer?”
A quiet second passes, Heeseung’s actually thinking about it. “That depends.”
“I’m not going, but I have some friends, two, who would genuinely die to go backstage,” you explain unhelpfully. “I’ll speak to Aeri about it and they can all go together.”
“No can do, YN.” Heeseung purses his lips. “If you’re not backstage, then your friends aren’t either.”
“Then I guess they won’t be backstage.” You frown, lifting your coffee from the counter. The steam has cleared. “Break a leg, rockstar.” On your way out, you pat Heeseung on the back.
Poor Somi and Yizhuo.
The Helmet is a pub of relative dinginess. Each step you take is a mild effort for how sticky the floor is with God knows how many hours of uncleaned booze. And quite small compared to the venues NAPE have been selling out recently, but according to Aeri, “This place has sentimental value! They played their first ever gig here, it’s special.”
She loops her arm through yours and drags you into the throng, not caring who she elbows. And the elbowed don’t seem to mind either when they realise it’s Heeseung’s girlfriend. And you. And Somi. And Yizhuo and Riki and Jaehyun. There is no barricade between the stage and the crowd. Just a foot high elevation and a whole lot of trust from the lack of security the pub seems to boast. Despite how packed it is, it’s not difficult to get to the bar, as evidenced by Jaehyun and Riki’s trips back and forth to supply you guys with drinks.
The DJ plays a jarring mix of alt-rock and 60’s pop music and everything in between. Muse’s Supermassive Black Hole becomes Like I Love You by Justin Timberlake becomes Surfin’ U.S.A. Who the target audience is, you’re not sure, but the more you drink — and the more Riki moves his broad shoulders to the beat — it becomes easier and easier to bear.
“I went to international school with that guy!” Riki yells in your ear. “Name’s Asahi and he’s fucking crazy.”
“The DJ?”
“No, you idiot. That’s Jungwon.” Riki flicks your forehead. “I mean the bartender.”
Around you, the crowd cheers raucously when the stage lights dim. Nothing happens. The DJ continues to terrorise all of you with more insane transitions — Sugar Water Cyanide into No One Noticed — and you continue to drink.
The lights go dim and the crowd around you roars. At your side, Aeri shakes like she’s the one about to perform, grabbing your hand and giving it a tight squeeze. She doesn’t let go. Another swell of screams fills the air as a song starts playing, one of NAPE’s. No Way Back was the first and last NAPE song you ever listened to. It was everywhere—the lead single of their debut album, the title of the tour they just finished, the common song choice for TikTok OOTDs and DIMLs. They were everywhere—BBC Live Lounge, The Tonight Show, Saturday Night Live.
And, much to your dismay, they were damn good.
In the blink of an eye, the lights come up slowly and you hold your breath as NAPE appear on stage. With Aeri, you look straight up at Heeseung who smiles, leaning towards the mic and singing, “When the last sun sets…”
They are a golden spotlighted blur to your tipsy eyes, but Jay has maybe never looked so good. There’s nothing special about wearing a flannel over a plain white T-shirt, you know that, but on him, now, it’s mesmerising. He is mesmerising. Glowing under the lights and so, so close. His guitar sits right by his waistband, veins criss-crossing over the backs of his hands as he plays. Goosebumps rise along your skin, and a funny feeling ravages your stomach. Butterflies on crack, just like the first time you saw him.
It seemed unjust that someone like him could exist not only on your campus, but within walking distance of your flat without you knowing. That someone so handsome had been existing and so close to you for three years. That was all you could think back then. If only we’d met earlier. If only we had more time. It was a real cosmic injustice. You had no real plans to stay in Edinburgh, but not for lack of wanting to—there you had a roof over your head, you had friends, and you had Jay. You had nights spent curled around him, you had mindblowing sex, and you had something special and real that you will never get back.
Knowing what he has now, it would have been ludicrous for Jay to stay behind. He has a crowd screaming his name, and a flat right in the centre of London and most of all, he has accepted that things are over and his life is better for it.
When you lift your stinging eyes from his guitar, he’s already looking at you. His eyes are wide, his lips set apart. He looks like he’s seen a ghost, like he too is using this most inconvenient of moments to mourn the past. To mourn you. He freezes, fingers stilling over the strings for long enough that Heeseung casts a look in his direction.
You chew on your bottom lip until it hurts and snatch Jaehyun’s cup out of his hand to finish it. When the song ends, the crowd erupts into cheers, again.
Jay Park is a god among men.
“What you saying, London?” Heeseung says, grinning, and the crowd goes crazy over it. Over him. You can’t blame them. There’s a charm to him, like this, standing in front of you on the stage. Heeseung the idol, you the… well, reluctant fan of sorts. “We’re NAPE and we’ve got a special show prepared for you tonight.”
The crowd cheers. To his credit, Heeseung is electric on stage, and you are standing so close you can see the sweat beading along his hairline and can already predict the tweets you’re going to see later about all of this. For fear of doing something rash, like jumping on the stage and tackling Jay for a kiss, you keep your eyes trained on the reflective red of Heeseung’s microphone as he continues to speak to the crowd.
“If tonight’s your first time with us, then allow me to introduce the band,” he says, his voice low in a way you’ve never heard before as he gestures behind him. Sunghoon on the drums, Jake on the bass, and his good friend, Jay on the guitar.
“Thank you for that, good friend Heeseung.” The words leave Jay’s mouth in a slow mumble, his cheeks a little flushed as he touches his palm to his heart. The screams for him seem the loudest by far, but that might be because you’re screaming with everyone else. “It’s good to see you guys, I’m Jay. Let’s have fun tonight, London.”
They launch into the next song immediately, a funky track about how they’re always going to be there for their ex who they left in unfavourable circumstances and still love. Sunshine, another unfortunately good song that is a perfect fit for Jay’s voice. Minjeong was the one who sent this single to you when it first came out, along with a message telling you to check the credits. Jay was listed as the sole writer.
Artists take creative liberties, you know that, and it’s easy to see why an attractive guy writing about still loving his ex, no matter what, would do better than an attractive man singing about being Satan’s son. But still, it’s weird to think of the millions of listeners who think they know what happened because Jay wrote about it. Who think he is the perfect, sweet, dream man who’d do anything to be wherever you are. Unless, of course, that place is Scotland—though you can see how that might have been difficult to rhyme.
And even still, despite your growing irritation, you can’t help but look at him in awe.
They play one song after another — not saying much — and you don’t know any of them, but they only get better. The crowd gets more excited, louder somehow, and Jay only gets harder to look away from. Seeing him like this, on stage, is overwhelming. His skin honeyed under the strong lights, slick with sweat making him glow. His thick fingers move quickly over the frets, his straight teeth bite his bottom lip. When he leans towards the mic, his lips brush the top of it, eyes meeting yours. You can see how people idolise him, idolise them, because holding his gaze, staring into the eyes of the man you once knew is impossible, and it’s an effort to stay upright on your weak knees.
A song called Helium closes to raucous screams and applause and all of the members look to Jay. You do the same. As the crowd calms down, he chuckles, tilting his head. Around his hairline, damp strands stick to his face, his temples, and he leans down, mouth a breath away from the mic. “This last song is actually, uh… It’s pretty personal, you know? It’s the first song I wrote when I moved back here,” he says, scrunching his nose. Jay is clearly nervous, his cheeks and neck turning rosy.
The girl behind you says, “He’s so cute when he’s shy!” And you hate that she has learned him enough to see what you do. Hate that she has learned him enough to have formed opinions on Jay and his tendencies, while being lucky enough not to know him personally.
Lucky enough to look at him and see hardly anything more than a blank slate upon which to project her every whim and fancy. This version of Jay, her Jay, that she has gotten to know through YouTube videos and overanalysing social media captions. Who she must imagine is very clear and upfront about his feelings, if that’s what she’s into. What does anyone in this crowd know about Jay? How lucky they all are to have only a part of the picture that makes up the whole, to have straightforward positive feelings for and towards this side of him that anyone with internet access can see. Lucky not to know what it’s like to fall asleep by his side, or to be scared half to death in the middle of the night to find him sleeping with his eyes half open. Lucky not know what it’s like to miss those things. To miss him.
“We don’t really do this one live, but Heeseung wasn’t lying when he said tonight was special.” His eyes flick over to you for the longest second and Jaehyun nudges your ribs.
While the crowd erupts once again, he shows you something on his phone. It’s his Notes app, with the words, get a fucking load of this male manipulator, written in all caps and bold. And because, yeah, I’m trying to, isn’t the right response, you can only offer your friend a forced chuckle before you gulp.
“So for what I think is the first time ever, here’s Carolina,” Jay says, launching into the opening chords. There is a clear difference between this song and the rest. It’s upbeat, and catchy, sounding almost like what you imagine would happen if The Beatles had made a song you enjoyed.
It is also, quite clearly, about you—though it was your father who told you to swim before you drown.
If you had your wits about you, you would probably turn on your heels and storm out. How unfair of Jay to do this. To sing about you and your life and the heartbreak he inflicted on you without so much as a simple text to let you know. Give you a heads up. Hey, I wrote a really fucking good song about our relationship for my first EP and reduced two years to a one night stand lmao. Unfortunately, you do not have your wits about you, and so, as you stand there bobbing your head to the beat and swaying, you cannot help but bite on your lip and stare indulgently up at Jay as he sings about what a good girl you are.
“How would I tell her that she’s all I think about?” Jay sings, looking at you. “Well, I guess she just found out.”
When Jay first told you about his dream, a pang of horror punched you in the gut. Fearing that your fate would be like that of girls everywhere, that he would be your tropey boyfriend, your canon event: the privileged, untalented SoundCloud rapper, or indie artist. All you could do was nod your head and smile stiffly as he told you how much he loved his guitar and writing music. It was to your great relief that Jay wasn’t just good, he was great. You’re certain that’s why, now, as you watch him sing about your relationship for hundreds of adoring fans, there is a flicker of admiration, of awe, right alongside your annoyance.
“She feels so good,” he sings over and over, with his eyes shut. A vein presses against his forehead. His neck.
With that, and a rapturous combination of applause and screaming, NAPE give a bow and leave the stage. They do not do an encore, though a good number of stragglers wait behind for one, while Aeri drags you and all of your friends through a door marked with restricted access. The corridor lights come on one by one as you walk further and further towards another door that she doesn’t hesitate to push open. All of the members are startled by your sudden entrance, but relax quickly at the sight of her.
“Baby!” Heeseung calls out, embracing Aeri, while you and everyone else stands around by the door.
Besides her, you’re the only other person who has met all of these people, and so, you’re tasked with introductions. Jaehyun greets everyone but Jay who stands there looking at him with a straight face. Thankfully, everyone is too caught up with Somi’s huge reactions and extra enthusiasm towards Sunghoon to pay anyone else any mind. He eats it right up, nodding at all the right moments and tucking blonde curls behind her ear while she speaks. Yizhuo, whose big plans for Jake Sim involved taking him to pound town, stands in the corner and stares at him from a distance while he drinks his water.
After filing out of the back exit, you quickly learn that trying to coordinate ten drunk people to use the Tube on a Friday night is more than a bit hellish. But somehow, you manage, with your arm looped through Jaehyun’s the whole way. Jay doesn’t take his eyes off of you, even as he and Sunghoon are tasked with keeping all six feet of Riki vertical.
What Aeri refers to as The NAPE House whenever she’s visiting Heeseung, is a four bedroom penthouse apartment that could surely hold more people than the pub they just performed at. There are people everywhere, influencers and other niche celebrities, drinking and laughing and grinding on each other. Not a phone in sight—only vlogging cameras. And on the black leather living room couch, you have a front row seat. A comfortable one you share with Heeseung and a sleeping Aeri.
“Can you do me a favour?” He lolls his head in your direction, yelling. “Will you get my hoodie from my bed?”
You make a show of rolling your eyes. “You owe me. Where’s your room?”
“Always.” Heeseung smiles. “It’s the last door in the hall, straight down.”
You weave through the crowd, throwing apologies over your shoulders and trying to remember exactly which hallway he was referring to. When you get there, his door is slightly ajar, a dim glow coming from the room right at the end of the hall like he said. The sight of the bed alone, dark sheets pulled tight and waiting, is enough to make you sleepy, a nagging exhaustion you only feel now. Noticeably missing though, is his hoodie, but it’s hardly an urgent matter. Surely not. Blinking heavily, the duvet calls for you, the corn on the cob plushie begging you to hold it—a weird choice for Heeseung, but maybe Jay got it for him.
Since you’re doing him a favour — and he uses your couch more than you — you figure there’s nothing wrong with resting your eyes on the end of his bed. It would be foolish not to seize this moment now that you have it. Carpe… moment. Closing the door behind you, you find a key in the lock, and if that isn’t a sign, you don’t know what is. With the door locked, you pass the guitar rack on the way to the bed, and make yourself comfortable, facing the ceiling. Sooner than you expect, your eyes flutter shut, honey musk tickling your nose.
A soft voice wakes you up. “Hey.”
You don’t need to see Jay Park to know it’s him. If not for the American shape of the word leaving his mouth, the fresh scent of his shower gel gives him away. How annoying, knowing someone. When you open your eyes, he’s leaning over you with a smile on his face, very close. Close enough to see that his hair is damp. To see the light from outside reflecting on the droplets that cover the solid muscle over his shoulders. The scar on the bridge of his nose.
A drop of water falls from his hair, hitting your chest—you swear you hear it sizzle. “What are you doing in here?” The words come out before you have a chance to think of something less accusatory to say. Hey, might have been a good place to start. You shoo him away with your hand, sitting up and facing him, ignoring the heat in your stomach. The butterflies. It’s a mistake to look at him properly, to see all of him. His white vest is vacuum sealed over his defined torso, cinching where his waist does. With his hair flat over his forehead, he looks so young again. Looks like himself. Looks like he’s yours. Like any second, he’s going to pull you into him and press his mouth into the crook of your neck, to say, I’ve missed you, gorgeous. You can feel it already, the shape of his phantom words against your skin, the hum of them from his chest. Jesus Christ. Why couldn’t you be one of those very strong women who’d fallen for an ugly man? How was it fair that Jay could break your heart and only get better looking?
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
“I’m allowed to lie on Heeseung’s bed. He’s my friend.” With that, it’s all you do to hope Jay doesn’t pass this on, you calling Heeseung your friend.
Jay eyes you, wetting his lips. His attention, having all of it, warms your skin. “I’m sure you are, YN. But this is my bed, so if I let you lay on it… what does that make me?” His eyes narrow, just a little. Just enough. There’s something behind them, a challenge to match his low voice.
Everything in your life feels so different now. You have new friends, a new address, different interests and opinions, but still, a very agitating part of you is moved by Jongseong. Charmed. “I think that would still make you my evil ex-boyfriend,” you say, more as a reminder to yourself than anything else. A mental marking of the words, do not open, on the overflowing can of worms with Jay’s name on it—a solution about as effective as sellotape around a broken bone.
He pulls air through his teeth, nodding. “Fair assessment.”
It’s been long enough that the vague dim shapes of his bedroom have sharpened into some form of clarity. The names and faces on the posters visible now: Oasis, Bon Jovi, Destiny’s Child. His desk is completely free of clutter, only housing a huge monitor, a notebook, a mouse and a keyboard. It seems in your absence, he’s gotten a grip on keeping tidy. Mounted on the wall above the guitar rack is the plastic guitar that came with the old copy of Guitar Hero you bought for him. Your heart twists in your chest.
“So this is your room,” you announce. And just like that, the pieces of Heeseung’s drunken puzzle slot into place before your very eyes—he was already wearing his hoodie.
Jay hums, a smile tugging his mouth up at the corners. “You like it?”
“Yeah, I do. I mean, I’ve spent so long wondering what your life is like here. Where you hang out with your friends, if you still smoke. I’ve been really keen to find out your life is terrible.” You have no idea why you’re saying these things, but it’s difficult to stop now that you’ve started. “Seeing it though, seeing you on stage, seeing you at all. I’m really glad it isn’t, Jay.”
The crowd screaming his name. Singing along to lyrics he wrote. Of course he had to come here. There is no universe where Jay staying in Edinburgh, staying with you, was the right decision. All of those versions of reality play out in your head, split like a kaleidoscope—you are happy, Jay is not, there is more for him than you or Edinburgh can offer, and he resents you for that. Even if his method wasn’t ideal, he did the right thing by leaving, and the realisation forces a lump in your throat.
He mumbles your name, running his hand through his hair. The water makes it stay put like gel, pushed off his forehead, and his eyebrow piercing shimmers. “I didn’t even know you stayed here.”
“It was none of your business.”
“No, I… Yeah, you’re right, it wasn’t.” Jay looks like he has a billion things on his mind, you can practically hear the gears grinding against one another. “I’ve been wanting to see you is all. Catch up.”
A laugh bursts out of you, dry and bitter, as you stand up from the bed. “To catch up,” you repeat. “What, so you could tell me all about your perfect life in perfect London? So you could thank me for inspiring your discography?”
Jay’s jaw ticks when he clicks his tongue. “Do you think so low of me?”
“Hard not to.”
This seems to genuinely hurt him and some part of you takes delight in that fact. His face drops right away, a sad glimmer in his big eyes as he steps towards you. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay—more than.”
“I’m great, Jay.” You don’t bother wiping the first tear from your eye, but as soon as it falls, the floodgates open and there’s nothing you can do to close them. You can hardly see anything anymore, a fuzzy blob replaces Jay where he stands in front of you. “I just let go from a job I really loved and now I’m crying in my ex-boyfriend’s bedroom. Clearly, I’m…” Getting the words out is an effort so you stop, letting the sentence die around the block in your throat.
When you take your hands away from your leaking eyes, the heels of your palms are black with mascara and eyeliner, and Jay says nothing. He’s sitting on the end of the bed, hiding his face with his hands. In your head, a tiny drunk voice wills fervently for him to take you in his massive arms and pat your back. To rest his chin on the top of your head and tell you that it’s all going to be okay. That it’s all going to be good. You hate yourself for wanting that. For wanting him.
Instead, Jay looks up at you with wet eyes. “I really am sorry. It wasn’t meant to happen like that, I swear. I had everything planned out and I just… I don’t know.”
“After all this time, you’re telling me you don’t know why you did that to me?”
“It’s not as simple as that.”
“Elaborate then.”
“Before I met you, all I did was keep to myself, study, and think about coming back to London. That was it, okay. Being in a relationship was the absolute last thing I wanted back then an—”
You scoff, cutting him off. “Good to know.”
“That’s not what I… I was sure about you, YN. From the start, I was sure about you.” The rest of what comes out of his mouth is secondary, background noise to this.
You feel those words, in your bones, with every single fibre of your being. Recognise them. Because it’s exactly how you felt. There wasn’t a single part of you that would have believed or accepted anything other than the fact that he was the one. Your one—right from the day you met, you knew you wanted him.
Jay sighs, the sag of his broad shoulders catching your attention. “But I couldn’t ask you to do long distance, it wouldn’t have been fair.”
“Fair?” you repeat, hardly believing your ears. “You think disappearing was fair?”
“I thought I was doing the right thing, that it would be easier for both of us that way.”
The thought of hearing him say anything else to defend himself turns your stomach. Worse is the fact that you actually want to hear him out, pick his brain on it. Ask all the questions you never had the chance to. Try to make sense of the mess and sort it all out. Sort yourself out, finally. You just need a minute. Need a minute to get your head on straight, and that’ll be impossible with Jay watching you the way he is, his glossy eyes boring into yours. You fling open the door to his ensuite and shut it behind you before he has the chance to keep speaking.
Heat from the shower hits you immediately, condensation lingering in the corners of the mirror. It’s a beautiful bathroom, glossy white and matte black fixings, a deep sink basin with lots of counter space and a roomy shower. His hand wash and lotion are perfectly lined up by the tap, his watch and some rings placed neatly in front of them as if he wanted to take up as little space as possible. Despite how much makeup stains your palms, your eyes don’t look as horrific as you thought they would, it’s the swelling and redness that makes you look awful. His Le Labo soap smells warm and green, lathering nicely over your fingers when you finally spot something amiss. A blister pack sits between the tap and the wall, all of the tiny white pills gone bar one. Sertraline, reads the foil over the front when you pick it up, and for the second time since you and Jay have come across each other again, you throw up in his vicinity, vomiting into the sink.
The lone tablet clatters to the floor at your feet.
“Are you okay?” Jay asks. The door does nothing to muffle his concern.
How could you possibly answer that? I’m grand! Only gone and found your antidepressants HAHAHA. His antidepressants. Just thinking the word in relation to Jay is enough to make you wretch again. Nothing comes out.
“May I come in?” To your silence, he continues, escalating from polite question to concerned statement. “I’m coming in, okay?”
While you fight for breath over the sink, Jay counts loudly from one to five before the door clicks open behind you. In the mirror, you see his eyes drift to the floor and widen. He picks up the blister pack and puts it in his pocket, aiming for subtle but being more overt than you’ve ever seen. “I saw it, Jay,” you say. “I know.”
He nods slowly like he’s coming to terms with what’s happened. As if he’s the one finding out about his diagnosis. “It’s uh… I’m okay,” he offers weakly, though his reassurance only makes you feel worse.
Your palms itch against the counter, desperate to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. To yell in his face that he doesn’t have to act like he’s alright with everything all the time. Finally, you’ve found something about Jay that hasn’t changed. What a shame it had to be this. “You’re okay,” you repeat, speaking the words more like an affirmation than anything else.
“I’m seeing someone about it and I have good people around me. I’m okay.”
A chill runs over your spine, pulls the hairs on your arms straight up, at the way he says it. This, for Jay, is simply a part of life now, as ordinary and boring as brushing his teeth before bed or tying his shoelaces before he leaves the house. You brace against the sink, screwing your eyes shut again. Nothing changes when you open them, you’re still in Jay’s bathroom and he is still depressed.
“How long?” you ask, as if his answer will make a difference.
He looks away when your gaze meets his in the mirror and shrugs, his shoulders rising and falling in a stiff motion. You don’t press him on it. Whether it’s been one year or one day, the point is that he’s unwell. And the gaping chasm between his life and yours is big enough that you had no idea. God, you’ve been so selfish.
Neither of you says anything else, but it’s not until there’s a thump at his bedroom door and a muffled apology called out through it that you realise. Both of you let out the exact same laugh, a huffed breath from your noses, which only makes the pair of you laugh properly when your eyes meet. The crinkle of his eyes is still a delight, still heats you up from the inside out.
More than anything, you are desperate for this silence to end, desperate to be saying something, making conversation. “So,” you start, clearing your throat. “About this family of mine in Carolina.”
Jay’s cheeks pinken, a sweet, rosy tinge blooming against his skin. “That was just something I thought sounded good.” He was right, unfortunately, it did sound good.
This fact, however, does nothing to stop the harsh pull of embarrassment in your stomach. “I was being presumptuous, sorry.”
“No, it was… that song is definitely about you,” Jay admits, for better or for worse. “They all are, when I write anyway.”
Jesus. You still had an entire discography to listen to, all based around the worst event of your life so far. Such is the plight of dating an artist, you suppose. In the midst of your irritation with him over that, and sick pleasure at knowing your relationship — you — had impacted him as much as it — he — had you, was a flare of curiosity. All of his unknowable thoughts, the things you wished he said, existed only a mere couple of clicks away. You could listen to them all right now, read the lyrics. Given the dedication of NAPE’s fanbase, you were certain multiple Twitter threads had been posted with line-by-line analysis.
“Great!” you say, cheeks aching with the stretch of your lips as you give him a thumbs-up. “Thanks, champ.”
His laugh is warm, filling the space between you. “I wrote it thinking about your…” Jay scratches at the back of his neck, cheeks growing pinker by the second. The colour spreads down his neck and over his chest. “You used to talk about riding camp, when you were younger. That pretty chestnut horse you rode as a kid.”
“Carolina,” you supply uselessly, the name hardly audible over the thud of your pulse in your ears.
“The one and only.”
You gulp. “And here I thought I was well behaved.”
“There was that too, of course there was.” He’s smiling, but you can’t bring yourself to do the same.
You’re not even sure if Aeri knows you went to riding camp. “I can’t believe you remembered that.” Some twisted part of you wonders what else he remembers, what other Easter eggs he’d left behind for you. For everyone.
He seems bewildered by this, his brows furrowing, head tilting. “Who could forget anything about you?” Each word is as sincere as the last, breeding a fascinating and surely singular type of hurt deep in the pit of your stomach.
“You know, I don’t usually throw up so often,” you blurt out, turning to the mess you left in the basin and flicking the tap on.
His reflection smiles in the mirror, leaning against the door frame. “Am I that bad?”
“You’re so much worse.”
“Four words every depressed person wants to hear.” He’s still smiling, his posture relaxed, slanted, but it’s the look in his eyes that gives him away, breaks your heart. How glossy they’ve become in the light.
“You’re really okay?”
Jay nods. “I’m okay.”
Every part of you aches to believe him, willing with every fibre of your being that he’s telling the truth. Okay isn’t good, but it’s a start, and soon he’ll be more than that. He has to be. Without a second thought you wrap your arms around him, feeling his warmth as he hugs you back. “I know I can’t take back or change what I did, but I really am sorry,” he mumbles into your shoulder.
And all of a sudden, it’s too much. His soft lips on your skin, the vibration into the crook of your neck. The familiar squeeze of his strong arms around you, his faint honeyed scent. The fact that despite everything, despite the frenzied red flags waving in your brain, you want to believe him. You do believe him.
You pull away, quickly, and take a huge step back, hitting your hip against the sink. “Do you have a spare toothbrush?”
Jay watches you for a moment, his eyes catching on each of your features like he’s seeing you for the first time. He clears his throat, scrunching his nose with a sniffle before speaking. “I might have a spare head for my electric somewhere.”
“Great,” you say, while he opens the cabinet with pursed lips. “Thanks.”
Those lips. You feel them while you brush your teeth alone in his bathroom, and while Jaehyun walks you home. While you shower, and while you collapse into bed. I really am sorry. God. How much easier this all would be if his belated apology fixed all of this.
jongseong 😽: Thank you for coming to the show, it really meant a lot to me having you there
you: No prob 👍
Under your face, your pillow muffles a would-be bloodcurling scream. “No prob, thumbs-up emoji…?” you repeat into the fabric, affronted by your word choice.
you: Just texted “no prob” unironically
minjeong: To who 😭
you: Rhymes with Jark Pongseong
minjeong: You should have said YES prob or ALL prob in fact you shouldn’t even have responded to whatever that freak loser (VERY DEROGATORY) said to my sweet angel girl
you: It was kind of sweet tbf, he thanked me for going to the gig and then said it meant a lot to him
Minjeong calls you immediately. You answer but can’t say anything for the genuine wave of fear that crashes over you. Through the phone you hear the click of her heels against the pavement, rumble of traffic, roaring engines and beeping horns, the soundtrack to the functioning woman’s afternoon. “You are the lostest cause of them all,” she says. “I thought you were over this insane person.”
“I am over him. I am also allowed to think he is very good looking and incredible onstage.”
“Shut up!” Minjeong sighs. “Also, did you take my coat when you stayed? The wool one?”
“I wish.”
“I’m hanging up now.” Three beeps follow her words, and her black wool coat stares at you from the open wardrobe.
The room spins around you when you sit up from bed. You can feel your brain swooshing around in your skull. Waking up hungover in last night’s makeup and outfit is never a treat, especially not when last night’s makeup is coming off of your face in crumbs every time you blink, and the outfit is a tank top and Aeri’s sequin microshorts. Somehow you make it to the kitchen where you sway by the counter and make a cup of black coffee, flinching at the sound of Aeri’s key twisting in the lock.
“Ugh, the show was perfect, YJ! It really sucks you couldn’t make it, but I know they’ve got some other gigs coming around the city so I’ll text you deets, alright?” she says. “I dropped my film off after yoga this morning, but I was so drunk last night… not hopeful.” Her voice gets louder in the hallway, an ear-splitting squeal sounding through the flat as she approaches and blows a kiss down the phone before appearing in the doorway. “Hey, you!” The grin on her face is wide and shows all of her teeth.
“Hey,” you say, it’s the only thing you can muster as you watch her lean in the doorframe, decked out in a matching brown workout set that ALO sent her in PR.
Her eyebrows give a suggestive wag as she says in a singsong voice, “Guess who I had breakfast with?”
The full scope of Aeri’s circle is still unclear to you, so the answer could be anyone. Playing it safe, you simply ask, “Who?”
“Your boyfriend! Almost boyfriend.”
“And that would be…”
“Don’t be coy, YN. Jay told me all about last night.”
“Jay?” It’s a wonder that your eyes don’t fall from their sockets—it would’ve shocked you less if she’d suggested that Byeon Wooseok was your boyfriend.
“I wanted to put in a good word for you, but he already wants you bad. Never seen anything like that, he asked a million questions about you. If I didn’t have to get home to shoot I’d still be there telling him about your commute.”
“He doesn’t. At all.” You clench your fists behind your back, denting half-moons into your palms with your fingernails. “We dated for a few years at uni, but he…” The sting isn’t enough to distract you from the swoop in your stomach, so you settle instead for clawing at the back of your hand. “He had to move back home and we agreed it would be better to end things.” No matter how many times you say it, it doesn’t get any easier.
Aeri’s face flickers through the full spectrum of human emotion, never quite settling on one.
“I know I should have said something earlier, it’s just…” Embarrassing. It’s embarrassing that not only can Jay live without you, he can thrive. Meanwhile, you can’t even secure a job interview. “I don’t know.”
Finally, she pulls you into a hug, all citrus and sweat, and you sink into her arms. “I have two pieces of good news and one piece of bad news. What do you want first?” she asks, pulling away just enough to look at you.
Clearing your throat, you ask, “Can you do good news, bad news, good news? Like a sandwich?”
Aeri leans against the island opposite you, smiling. “Okay, good news: you don’t owe me, or anyone else, every last detail about your life, and given the whole me dating your ex-boyfriend’s best friend thing, I get why you kept that from me, alright? You don’t need to apologise for that. The bad news is that said ex-boyfriend is definitely still in love with you, but — and this is the next good part — you guys broke up because he didn’t think he could have London and you, right?”
Put simply, “Yes.”
“You’re in London now, you’re both single…” Aeri lets her eyes and hands spell out the rest of her sentence.
“Jay doesn’t… It’s not like that.”
“Okay,” she says, though you can tell she doesn’t buy it. “What about you? Do you still want him?”
What you really want, more than anything, is to feel secure. To feel like the people in your life won’t just up and leave at any given moment. You want to be with someone you can rely on, someone dependable. A person you can call and know they’ll answer—or at least call you back. You’re not sure if that person is Jay.
“I don’t know,” you admit.
“You don’t need to know that right now. What you need is to sit down,” Aeri says, guiding you by the shoulders to one of the stools under the island. “Watching you sway like that is giving me a hangover by association. I’ll make you something to eat.”
She makes you a cup of herbal tea and some fruit topped French toast with bacon. You inhale it before she shoos you out of the kitchen. “You need to sleep this shit off, okay? We need to leave at eight tomorrow morning.”
Fuck. She’d agreed to let you tag along on her work day tomorrow so you’d finally have something interesting to post on Substack. You didn’t realise that would involve facing the public so early in the day. “Of course!”
yizhuo: dear sweetcheeks bubblegum fairy woman consider this our final correspondence as i’m literally about to die idk who the fuck was sick near me but they got me brother stay safe also tell that fuckface riki he can stop praying on my downfall ok it worked.
you: i’ll pass that message along for you… get well soon angel pie dream lady :( do u need me to bring anything by for you?
yizhuo: jimin’s playing sexy nurse this weekend dw i’m right wehre i wanna be 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤 in other more relevant news, interview is opening another office…….good day for the unemployed, look how many openings there are !!!
Her next message has fifteen links, and those are just the jobs you’re qualified for. These must be the millions of doors Somi was talking about. In a full-bellied haze, you write a new cover letter and apply to every last one of them. After that, with renewed pep in your hungover step, you climb back into bed and watch as many episodes of Pretty Little Liars as you can handle without breaking the screen in half at the sight of Mr. Fitz and his minor-student-girlfriend Aria. It’s two. You manage two episodes and sleep for the rest of the day.
At eight in the morning, when Aeri is ready to leave, you have, unfortunately, reached the end of your life. And as it turns out, Jennifer’s Body had it all wrong, hell is not a teenage girl. If only. Hell, you’re learning, is whatever strain of the common cold is currently nerfing your immune system.
Shivering under your duvet, you scroll through the pictures you took after the gig, smiling, laughing, completely oblivious to the fact that those would be some of your last moments on this mortal plane. Probably you’ll never, ever drink again. Never do anything again. Your throat is swollen. Raw and painful when you swallow. A dull ache reaches all of your joints, weighing them down. Swallowing ibuprofen is a tear-inducing, Herculean task, but you manage, and finally, sleep comes over you.
For the next few hours, you fade in and out of slumber until you quit trying. Your throat still hurts, but the swelling is down. When you blow your nose into your last tissue, your ears pop and the thumping in your head is actually at the front door. The Grim Reaper here to… well, reap, you suppose. He even knows your name and yells it incessantly like some sort of evil, murderous baby who’s just learned a new word. Gun! Knife! YN! It’s only after your fourth, weak, attempt at calling out for Aeri that you remember she’s not home, and quickly resign to your fate, dragging yourself out of bed and then all the way to the door. Against the wall you catch your breath before pulling it open.
“I’m not here to bother—” Jay stops short.
“Jay?” He is hazy and beautiful in front of you. His sunglasses hold his hair away from his face, and none of the three buttons on his black polo shirt are done up, exposing just enough of his collarbone and chest to make your cheeks heat up. He is the cruel mirage of an oasis in the desert. “Jay,” you say again, reaching out your aching arm to touch him.
Against your fingertip, he is completely solid and real, which is more than a little mortifying. He looks down to where your hand touches his chest, where your hand is still, for some reason, touching his chest. He grabs your wrist, his touch soft but scorching through your long sleeve, and puts your arm back down at your side carefully. “You’re sick.”
“A little.”
“Okay,” he says slowly, wearing his thinking face. Head tilted, tongue poking out between his soft pink lips, the same way he would when he was trying to calculate how long it might take your food delivery to reach your place, and if there was enough time for the two of you to share the shower first. “I just need to get Heeseung’s computer and then I’ll be out of your hair. You need to put on something warm.”
You step aside to let Jay into the flat and he goes straight to Aeri’s room, coming back with a laptop tucked under his arm. He inspects you from head to toe and frowns. “Drink some tea, okay? Lemon and ginger with lots of honey.” It’s the last thing he says before he disappears.
Heeding Doctor Jay’s advice, you use the last sliver of your energy to hobble into the kitchen so you can make yourself a cup of lemon and ginger tea with lots of honey. Equipped with a steaming mug, you go back to your room where you pull a jumper on and stuff yourself into your dressing gown, before crawling back into bed. As soon as your head hits the pillow, you fall asleep, lemon and ginger tea with lots of honey cooling down on your nightstand, untouched.
It’s Jay’s gentle voice that rouses you out of your thick sleep, saying your name over and over until your eyes open. “Hey,” he says, his palm massive on your arm. His glasses slip down the straight bridge of his nose but he doesn’t push them up. “Aeri gave me her keys and I—”
“Aeri’s at work,” you say, correcting him.
He smiles. “Yeah, I just saw her.”
“She’s on the other end of the city.”
“So here’s the cool thing about London — and you might not know this — but we have this thing called the Tube and it got me there and back.”
“But it’s so… it’s like an hour one way.”
Jay waves a dismissive hand, his smile unwavering. “Forty-five minutes.”
The words he’s saying are all words you’ve come across. Words for which you know the dictionary definition and spelling, but it’s taking a lot for your brain to make sense of them and their implications in these particular sequences, coming from him. Fuzzy-headed, you lie back down, sinking into the pillow and screwing your eyes shut.
“You okay?” When you open your eyes, he’s watching you with an arched brow, inspecting you like you are fungi on a petri dish and not his dying ex-girlfriend.
“The common cold doesn’t normally kill people, right?”
Instead of laughing or being charmed by these, your final words, he tilts his head. “Well, it can lead to more severe forms of sickness like pneumonia or sepsis, which could, quite easily, kill you, yes,” he says, delivering the information to you in a tone that suggests he was reading about this on the way over.
This had been one of your favourite things about Jay, his insatiable curiosity and willingness to share what he’d learned with whoever was around. He could talk about any subject for hours and you were always keen to listen. It got to the point that you would direct your queries to him instead of the Google search bar, just for a reason to text him. Hey Jay, is thirty minutes too long to cook a steak? Way too long??? I’m coming over. Hey Jay, what’s the name of that Bon Jovi song you played for me? Hi beautiful, it’s called Always :). Hi baby, would you still love me if I was a worm? I’m always going to love you, YN. No matter what.
“Great, Jay. Thanks.” You lean up on your elbows, coughing with your mouth open like a child. “Still a fount of knowledge, I see.”
Bright red blooms over his cheeks and neck. “As always,” he says, though he doesn’t seem happy about this fact, scrunching his nose. “I… uh… I made you some soup.”
“Your mum’s dakgaejang?” you whisper. To his sheepish smile, you mumble, “That shit could cure anything.”
“It always did,” Jay agrees, lifting the steaming bowl from your desk. He gasps at something, putting the bowl back down and holding up a magazine for you to look at. The magazine, with him and the rest of NAPE on the cover. “Wow, I had no idea you liked us this much,” he says, flipping through the pages to find the article.
It hurts to roll your eyes, but you do it anyway. “Don’t flatter yourself, Park. I bought it because it was my first printed write-up.” And last, you do not add.
The lump in your throat is immediate and all-consuming. Seeing the magazine was a real shock, knowing that — though uncredited — you had left a mark on the world, no matter how small. And that thousands of NAPE fans around the country, and in all nations that print Daydream Mag, had you to thank for transcribing the interview. It wasn’t much, but it was yours. Jay’s eyes turn glassy and his gaze falls to the pages once more, running his finger over the words, your words. The thud of your heart in your ears pads the silence. You wonder if he’s thinking what you were, that you’ve both made it. Both of your dreams unspooling before your very eyes, and somehow, after all these years, your paths found a way to cross again. In print, no less.
At least, that’s how it felt before you lost your job.
“Wow,” Jay whispers. “This is really special, YN. You’re amazing.”
The article wasn’t much to write home about. And sure, when you found out, some of your work friends treated you to drinks that evening, and got a celebratory cake made. And yes, you called your mum in happy tears from the office toilet. But seeing Jay make a fuss over it on your behalf is nothing short of humiliating. Your cheeks burn at the sight—a chart-topping artist praising the ex-girlfriend he ghosted over some paragraphs no one else knew she wrote.
God, what a joke.
“You’re the one who said all the words, and the guys.” You fiddle with the loose thread at the top of your duvet cover. “All I did was read some notes, watch a recording and type it all up.”
He shakes his head and in a blink, he’s crouching by the side of your bed, looking up at you with huge eyes. “That was our first big feature, my mum cut out the parts about me and stuck them to the fridge. Heeseung’s parents got it blown up and framed for the living room.”
“Anybody could’ve written it.”
“I know, but ‘anybody’ didn’t write it.” Jay’s eyes search yours, like he’s begging you to see where he’s coming from, that he means it. “You did.”
It’s only when you cough, a harsh rattle in your throat, that he seems to remember himself, remember the situation and the dakgaejang on your desk. Without a word, he helps you sit up in bed, propping your pillow up before bringing the soup over on a tray. Steam curls up from the bowl, heating your face, and the first spoonful is rich and spicy and perfect. Tender shredded chicken and soft vegetables. A long, contended hum rumbles out of you. “Holy shit,” you murmur, already feeling your blocked nostrils starting to open up. It tastes more like a memory than anything else. Like Jay’s broad shoulders in the kitchen, standing over your stove. His hoodie over your shoulders and the soft hum of the washing machine as you watched him cook. Like cuddling on the couch with a stranger and asking him to stay. Whether it was period-induced sensitivity or that food really was the quickest way to someone’s heart, you fell for him that night.
Jay gives a firm nod. “Alright, I know I’m not exactly who you’d want to spend your time with, so is there someone I could call to look after you? At least until Aeri gets off work?”
Hearing it from him, the reminder that he has a life and things to worry about that no longer include you stings the backs of your eyes. Another cold symptom, probably. You take another glorious spoonful of rice and soup, chewing slowly.
“I’ll call Riki when my phone’s back on.”
As if on cue, your phone starts to life, a black and white film strip of you and Aeri staring up at you from the lockscreen. Jay chews his lip, watching you with his hands on his hips, clearly eager to leave, and, to his luck, Riki answers on the first ring. “Yo, YN. What you saying?” he asks, delighted as the music in the background comes to a stop.
“Are you busy?”
“Not really — ow — okay, yeah, I’m kind of busy. What’s good, though? You alright?”
Your cuticles sting where your thumb bothers them, picking at the raw skin unthinkingly. Terrified of admitting to Riki that you need him, you say, “Yeah, no, I’m fine. Talk later, yeah?”
“Safe,” he says and cuts the phone.
Jay raises a brow. “It’s okay to ask for help when you need it. You know that, right?”
“I know,” you say, trying to convince yourself. “I’ll call Somi then Jaehyun.”
“No!” he blurts out, covering his mouth with his palm as if he can push the words back in. “I mean, you don’t need to bother him when I’m here, I could stay. If you want me to stay, I can stay.”
There’s no time to overthink his reaction, nor is there time to overthink the flutter in your chest at the sight of it, because as soon as he’s done speaking, you’re already saying, “You can stay.”
He only nods and stays there, standing over you. He is very still. It doesn’t even look like he’s breathing. Or blinking. Unless he’s blinking at the exact same time you are.
“You can also sit on the bed if you want,” you offer.
He gestures vaguely towards his body. “These are my outside clothes.”
You could have laughed at that, the idea that maybe his smart trousers and the Ralph Lauren polo shirt tucked into them were his casual inside clothes. Unfortunately, because he is Jay, and you are you, you’re too busy being struck by his remembering such a mundane detail to joke around. A silly thing you’ve since grown out of worrying about. You point him towards the drying rack in the living room where Heeseung had left some laundry. You’re not sick enough to tell Jay he can change in front of you, but you are sick enough to picture it as he closes your door behind him.
Sick enough to picture the smooth expanse of his back, muscles flexing while he pulls his T-shirt over his head. The cinch of his waist, the unfairly round curve of his ass, his Calvin Klein boxer briefs clinging to him like a second skin. His toned arms and thighs. It only takes a second for him to come back, fully dressed, in Heeseung’s grey sweatpants and white Henley that hugs his biceps. You open your mouth to say something casual like, I wasn’t picturing you naked, or you look nice in clothes, but he uses the bottom of his shirt to clean off his glasses and the sight winds you. Dark ink sticks out of his waistband, round edges touching his waist.
“You…” The sentence dies on its way out, your finger shaking as you point at him. “When did you get that?”
“Get wha—Oh.” He looks down at his side, the tips of his ears burning pink. “Two years ago? Last year? I don’t really remember.” Putting his glasses back on, he lifts the left side of his shirt properly, tugging at his waistband too. Only a little, only enough to make your heart race and show the word, nape, written in huge swirling cursive. “Hurt so bad, but it’s pretty, right?”
Pretty sexy, more like. “Yeah. Pretty,” you agree, willing for him to stop showing off his skin before you do something unwise.
“I actually have a couple now.”
The rest of Jay’s tattoos, all one of them, are very tiny and very him—a treble clef behind his right ear. He blushes when you tell him you like it, giving a sheepish smile as he gets under the covers beside you, careful not to knock your bowl over.
“You’re not scared of getting sick?”
“Nah.” Jay shakes his head. “I’m sure you’ll take good care of me if I do.”
“Whatever,” you mumble, focusing on your dakgaejang instead of your blushing cheeks.
When you finish eating you take a nap, eventually waking to the long set sun and Jay bringing over a cup of tea and some paracetamol. He crouches by your side and feels your forehead with the back of his hand. “How’re you feeling, sleepyhead?”
“Is Aeri home?”
“She texted saying she was going to crash at ours. With Heeseung.”
“Do you think you could stay over?” you ask slowly.
Jay tilts his head, eyebrows meeting in the middle. He’s as taken aback by your request as you are. For a long while, he simply stares up at you, like he’s waiting for you to take it back. You don’t. And so, finally, he nods and says, “I can stay over. Absolutely, I can stay over.”
After a surprisingly restful night of sleep, your second day with the cold begins with your head on Jay’s chest and your leg around him. Neither of you says anything about that.
For breakfast, he makes toast soldiers and beans, and you can’t contain your excitement, even though it hurts your throat to speak. “This was, like, the only breakfast I ate when I was little,” you gush, taking a picture to show your mum. “Especially when I was sick. This is perfect, Jay. Thank you.”
From the other side of the table, he watches you dunk a strip of buttered toast into your dippy egg with a smile on his face. “I know, YN. I’m just glad you still like it.”
You sniff, ignoring the heat rushing to your cheeks and neck—Yizhuo was right, this cold is no joke. Rubbing your hands together, you let crumbs fall to your plate and pull your dressing gown tighter around yourself, redoing the belt.
Back in bed, you warm your hands against a cup of tea while Jay opens your laptop. He insists there is a YouTube video you must see, but when he opens the site, the very first video is NAPE Swap Favourite Snacks | Snacked, uploaded fifteen minutes ago. Great. As it turns out, you had it all wrong, hell is not the common cold. Hell, you’re learning, is whatever the fuck is happening to you right now. This cannot be real life. All you did was watch that stupid video of them spotting each other’s lies. And then the one where they played most likely to with Variety. And showed Glamour what was on their phones.
Every inch of your body burns. “I didn’t put that there,” you blurt out. “Should we watch it ironically?”
A shudder racks through Jay and he scowls. “I kind of do not like to… look at myself. At all. So, no. Thanks though.”
Nothing about his tone or demeanour suggest that he’s joking. The thought that someone so beautiful, that Jay, could feel that way seems senseless. “If I had that face…”
“You’d what?” His straight teeth dent his bottom lip, curious eyes roving your face. Whatever insecurities plagued him a second ago are long forgotten now apparently. To your silence, he says, “I’m glad you don’t have my face, I really like yours.”
When this is all said and done, you’ll have to see a doctor about whatever part of the cold is making your heart race like this. “Just show me the video,” you mumble.
“Yes, ma’am.”
What if forks were made of salt? is eight minutes and twenty-four seconds of some white guy asking and answering what you now feel is an essential question. What if forks were made of salt? Would every bite of steak be perfect? Glossing over the mild existentialism at the end, the video is uplifting, awe-inspiring.
So much so that you and Jay discuss it for an hour before he says, “I bought one.”
Your jaw drops. “No way.”
“Yeah way! I’ll let you try it ou—” Jay’s ringing phone cuts him off and steals the smile from his lips. “Fuck,” he mutters, wiping his face with his palm. “Sorry. I’ve been ducking our manager’s calls, kind of, so I have to take this.”
Nosiness gets the better of you. “Put it on speaker.”
Jay obliges, screwing his eyes shut like he’s bracing himself. Through the phone, his manager’s voice is soft, kind, when he launches straight into his spiel. “I’m trying to bear with you here. I get it, I swear, but if you don’t have lyrics, can you just tell me that? We’ll figure it out, but you need to let me help you.”
Immediately, you regret asking Jay to put the phone on speaker, feeling your stomach drop.
He lets a quiet second pass before sighing. “I don’t have lyrics, Sunoo.” At this, the groan that comes through the phone is never-ending. “Yet,” he adds, rubbing his temples.
“I really did not want you to say that.” Sunoo sighs. “But it’s okay. See, you told me the truth and nothing bad happened. We’ll work something out, okay. Just take it easy, talk to your bandmates, and answer your fucking phone when I call you.”
“Got it.”
Sunoo cuts the phone abruptly and Jay hides his face in his hands, ears burning red.
“Ar—” He utters your name, interrupting you. “Yeah?”
“I don’t really want to talk about this right now.”
You reach out for him, palm resting on his knee and giving it a squeeze. He rests his calloused palm over your hand, locking his fingers with yours. There goes your heart, racing again. And what’s left of the day passes in half-awake snippets. The opening scene of The Matrix here, some spoonfuls of hot soup there, until you finally settle down for the night next to Jay. He falls asleep first, his strong arm around your shoulders holding you close. The thump of his heart is soothing as a lullaby. His chest rises and falls steadily with his slow breathing, in stark contrast to the shallow breaths you’re fighting for, until finally, you fall asleep too.
Hours later, a coughing fit wakes you up, skin damp with a cold sweat as you lean over your side of the bed. It’s relentless, each wheezy hack aching a spot in the back of your skull—your throat has never hurt so much in your life. Jay rushes out of the bed and comes back with a cup of water, rubbing circles on the wet fabric of your t-shirt with his palm while you try to catch your breath. When you manage to, you drink the water in gulps, finishing it quickly while he squints at the boxes on your nightstand before opening one of them—antiseptic throat spray. He pushes your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ears and watching you with worry in his massive eyes. “Can you open up for me, baby?” he asks softly. When you do, he positions the nozzle between your lips and clears his throat. “It’s going to be a little uncomfortable, yeah?”
You nod, blinking with heavy eyelids. He sprays it three times and it takes a lot of work not to gag. A little uncomfortable might be the understatement of the century, but already the menthol is soothing your throat.
“There you go,” he murmurs, taking the spray out of your mouth. “Atta girl.” His large palm rests on your cheek, his thumb wiping your tears.
At this, at all of it — him being here, doing this for you with no complaints — your stomach is in knots. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, keeping his hand in place. “Why are you being so nice to me?” you croak.
In the lamplight, his eyes flicker over every part of your face before he sniffs. “Let’s try and get some sleep.”
“Jongseong…” His full name slips out of you, like you’re back in uni. Like you’re back together—still together.
He says nothing, only closing the lid on the spray and helping you lie back down before joining you in bed. He doesn’t say anything when you curl into his side or when he wraps his arms around you.
Then, right when you blink for the last time, you feel the rumble of his chest against your ear. He says, “You make it so easy.”
It’s another three days before you feel better and Jay spends all of them at your side. At the end of it all, though there’s no reason for Jay to stay any longer, hugging him goodbye is bittersweet. But in all of your time apart, your phone doesn’t get much rest from seeing his name on it. And you don’t get sick of texting him back. Texting him first.
you: We’re having a movie night on Friday!!! Heeseung is coming so I was wondering if you wanted to come along too? Also it would be nice to see you again if you’re not sick of seeing me
you: Or just sick in general… how are you feeling actually?
jongseong 😽: That sounds really nice!!! I’d love to join you guys thank you for thinking of me ❤️
jongseong 😽: Who could ever be sick of seeing you? If anything I’m surprised you’re not sick of me
jongseong 😽: This is a serious emergency ik it’s 8am but please text back
jongseong 😽: HIIIII can u reply rn
jongseong 😽: Heeseung said you liked the choux vanilles from Toad’s so I picked some up for you even though you did NOT reply in my time of need. Are you home? I’ll leave these at your doorstep and get out your hair
you: THANK YOU THANKY OUU THANK YOU THANK YOU
you: You can come in! I’m getting ready to meet Yizhuo for breakfast but maybe we can head out together?
jongseong 😽: Sounds goood!!!
jongseong 😽: It was really nice seeing you yesterday morning, even if it was only for a little bit. I didn’t mean to make it weird and ik that doesn’t make it any better but I’m really sorry
you: Noooo!!! I swear you didn’t make anything weird, I had a lot of fun with you and I wish we could have spent more time together!
When Heeseung arrives for movie night an hour early, he arrives alone—not counting the two bottles of wine and three pints of ice cream he brought with him. “Hey!” he says, smiling from ear to ear. “You look well, I’ve heard awful things.”
You roll your eyes, taking his offerings and letting him in. “Trust me, it was much worse than whatever you heard.”
“Five days with Jay though, how was that?” he asks in a sing-song voice, following you into the kitchen. At this, your smile is immediate and very wide, so much so that he raises his brows, beaming too. “Wow, that good, huh?”
You turn away, putting the wine in the fridge and the ice cream in the freezer, trying your best to look any less elated. “Did you ask him?” you ask, genuinely curious.
Heeseung shakes his head, sinking into one of your dining chairs at the table. He is quiet for long enough to make you wonder if you’d imagined that second night, what he’d said. You make it so easy. Five simple words that your mind has allowed to colour the rest of the week, and all of your conversations since, rosy. To think harder about how Jay cooked an endless supply of dakgaejang for you and Aeri, restocking your groceries afterwards. How you sat with your back to the bathtub while he washed your hair over the edge of it.
Five simple words that may have been nothing more than that.
Finally, Heeseung says, “I didn’t have to ask, he was texting me nightly updates and gave me a full debrief when he got back.”
“Wow,” you repeat. “That good, huh?”
Shrugging off his jacket, he nods. “Better—” He stops short at the sight of Aeri in the doorway. She’s in her pyjamas, scrunching her wet hair in an old T-shirt and holding her phone to her ear. A great big grin tugs his lips up at the corners, scrunches his eyes. “Hey, baby,” he says, pulling her into his arms, splashes of pink hitting his white T-shirt when he leans down to peck her lips.
She seems just as delighted, holding the speaker against her chest as she looks at you to ask, “Is it you that hasn’t tried that mussels from Lilly’s?” When you nod she puts the phone back to her ear. “Could you add another portion of mussels and black bean sauce to the order, please? Okay, perfect, see you at eight!”
Just the mention of food makes your stomach grumble, hunger taking over as if you didn’t have a bowl of rice and stew an hour ago. From the mini charcuterie board you’d been preparing before Heeseung arrived, you eat a slice of smoky chorizo. And another. Aeri joins you, lifting the wedge of cheddar you bought earlier and taking a bite straight out of it. She hums, pleased, while you watch in horror.
“So that’s actually for sharing,” you point out belatedly.
“It’s only you two.” Shrugging, she puts the cheese down, cutting off her teeth mark. “And Jay,” she adds, looking around as if he might pop out from behind something. “Where is he anyway?”
“On his way. Probably?” Heeseung suggests.
“Probably? You live together, what do you mean probably?” Aeri asks.
“I’ve been out all day. Shall I ring him and see?”
You shake your head. “We’re not watching anything until eight o’clock, he’s got half an hour.”
Armed with snacks, you all set up the living room together. Charcuterie plate in the middle of the table for easy access while you wait for dinner, chilled wine and carton of apple juice, the coveted final packet of salt & vinegar crisps which you plan to steal so Jay can have them. Aeri’s in control of the remote, so the three of you watch YouTube videos of eighteen-year-olds playing Dress to Impress on Roblox while you wait for food and Jay to arrive. Eight p.m. comes quickly and with no sign of either, though it seems like you’re the only one to take notice as Aeri and Heeseung are fully locked in on rating the looks coming down the runway.
“One star.” He groans, gesturing at the TV with both of his palms, furious. “The theme was sea monster, why are you wearing a beret and holding an ice cream cone?”
It’s half-eight when your takeaway arrives, and your phone lights up in your lap.
jongseong 😽: Can’t make it tonight
jongseong 😽: Sorry
Not many things can wipe the Lilly’s-induced smile from your face, but this does the job. In a split second. Worsened by the fact that he doesn’t say anything else. Beside you, Heeseung and Aeri open every container, humming with increased volume and enthusiasm at the sight and smell of each new part of your meal.
jongseong 😽: Tied up with recording but I would’ve loved to see you!
You split a pair of wooden chopsticks, stealing a salt & chilli covered chip from the box in Aeri’s lap. She doesn’t stop you. Nor does she complain when you take more. Heeseung hands you an oil-spotted brown paper bag, chicken balls, but still, the stir in your stomach persists, disappointment rather than hunger.
jongseong 😽: Are you free in the morning? Coffee date?
jongseong 😽: *coffee run
you: No worries!!!!! A coffee date sounds really nice :)
you: *coffee run
jongseong 😽: :)
Locking your phone, you tuck it under your thigh and reach over to open a bottle of the wine Heeseung brought. “Jay can’t make it,” you say, hating how small and upset you sound. Heeseung frowns and Aeri squeezes your knee. You’re the one who presses play on the remote, and Superbad’s opening credits start up, while the empty spot to your left gets colder and colder.
jongseong 😽: Hiiiii sorry again about last night, are we still on for this morning?
jongseong 😽: Ik it’s so early hahaha
You almost drop your toothbrush in the sink at the sight of his name in your phone, rushing to text back.
you: Wowwwww Park, are you trying to bail on me already…? Again? Sick.
jongseong 😽: No way! I’ve already left the flat!!!
Right away, a picture of Jay on the Tube appears in the thread, his smiling cheeks and eyes poking out over the top of a thick black scarf. You heart-react to the picture then remove it, replacing it with a friendly thumbs-up instead—there is, however, no fix for the butterflies in your stomach. The heat in your cheeks. You gargle mouthwash and pack your bag before running off to go meet him at once. So excited, so jittery, you can’t even read the thriller you packed for the commute.
Through the café window, you see Jay before he sees you. He’s drumming his fingers against the table, lips pressed together, his eyes on the door. His hair is short and styled so it sits up off his forehead, spiky sort of. You’ve never seen it as short as this. It’s good, you think, that you’ve seen him first, because now you can turn on your heel and go home to address the thump in your chest. As if feeling your eyes on him, he turns around, gaze meeting yours right away, and a grin breaks out over his face. Crinkles his eyes. Dimples his cheek. Takes your breath away. You can’t help but smile too as you hurry inside. He’s standing when you reach the table.
“Hey,” Jay says, pulling you into a hug that smells like honey and smoke and doesn’t last nearly long enough. “I really am sorry about last night.”
“Don’t worry about it, you’re here now.”
He nods, grinning. “I like your jacket, it’s cute.”
“Right? It’s Minjeong’s.” You look up at him, overwhelmed by the closeness of his face to yours, by the handsomeness of said close face. “You cut your hair,” you say, because it’s the only thought you’re having that has nothing to do with how good he looks and smells.
Jay’s lips curl into a sheepish smile. “Thanks for noticing.”
“Of course.” You nod. “You look like a baby.”
And there it is again, that grin. A laugh. “Great, because that’s exactly what I was going for. Thank you, YN.” He gestures to the table, at the steaming mug across from his seat. “I got you a latte.”
He really did! And the art on top of it is really normal!! It’s a love heart!!! And your actual heart is beating at a rate others might hear and think: wow, she’s being really normal right now! Hey, everybody!! Come take a look at how normal she’s being!!!
“Are you ageist?” you ask, taking your seat. To his furrowed brows, you continue. “There’s nothing wrong with looking like a baby. I was a baby once, you know.”
Jay sits down slowly, studying you over the rim of his cup and taking a long sip before he says, “I was too.”
Something about it all, seeing him like this, in a café and not studying, is strange. Jay was big on brewing his own coffee, steeping his own tea—exam season was the only justifiable time to splurge on delicious multi-hyphenate beverages. You take a sip of your own drink and try to come up with something normal to say, settling on, “I can’t believe we’re getting a coffee and it was your idea.”
“I don’t really drink anymore, my medication doesn’t… like that very much.”
“Jay, it’s nine o’clock,” you point out. “Oh… my God.” You cover your hand with your mouth, horrified, and leap to make things better. “I’m not judging you.”
“I didn’t mean I’d drink at this time. Jesus, YN. I’m not Scottish.”
“Okay, so you’re judging me.”
“I can’t help it, that’s just my God given right as a… sort of English person. Asking me not to judge you would be like asking me to kill myself.”
“Really desirable?” You sigh as soon as the words come out. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, guilt washing over you.
Jay’s eyes widen and his jaw drops, a surprised, contagious, laugh rushing out of him. He covers his face with his hands while you watch in horror. “Anyway, I was going to ask, how long do you have to stay somewhere before you can claim it?”
He’s still smiling. Your heart is still racing.
“I think it’s more of a feeling,” you say finally.
“Yeah, I think you’re right.” Jay lifts his notebook from the table, stuffing it into his jacket pocket. “You look a lot better since I last saw you, I was starting to think there was something about being near me that was making you sick, you know? Three times is a pattern and all that.”
“We saw each other two days ago.”
“For ten minutes,” he points out.
Ten minutes that you spent the rest of the day poring over, recounting every single detail, every little thing that led to him kissing your cheek when he said goodbye.
“Well, I only just got here, so I’m not sure we can rule it out yet.” Racing heart, turning stomach, breathlessness—symptoms of post-acute infection, apparently. You offer a weak chuckle. “Thanks again for looking after me, you really didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to. And besides, it was nice spending time with you.” Jay smiles. “How’ve you been?”
“Just the usual.”
“I don’t really know what your usual is these days,” he admits too casually for the weight of it all.
“Right… uh, I’ve been—” You try to think about it, wondering what usual means to you. It used to be so simple. Your usual used to be studying with Jay before and after classes. Sharing every meal you could when time permitted. Ending the night together at his place or yours, even if you’d spent the day apart. He used to be your usual.
“I had an interview yesterday morning. At ‘Interview,’ and I think it went well,” you say, voice high pitched and trailing off towards the end. Worried about jinxing yourself, you hadn’t told anyone about it, not even Yizhuo who sent you the job posting. But now that you’ve said the words out loud, to Jay, you can’t bring yourself to stop. “But my friend told me they’re interviewing until the end of the month, so it might be a bit before I hear anything. I’m feeling good about it though, my portfolio is strong, and it’s versatile — at least that’s what the recruiter said — so I should have a shot for a few of the jobs there if I don’t get this particular one.”
Jay’s face lights up with every word you say, as if you’ve let him in on something secret, something precious.
“I didn’t mean to talk your ear off,” you say, hiding behind a warm sip of coffee.
His smile takes over his face, ear to ear and so delighted. Pink kisses the tips of his ears, the apples of his cheeks. “Luckily I have two ears, and they really love your voice so…” He trails off, ducking his head like he’s embarrassed by his own sincerity. “I’m really happy to hear that, YN. I want all of your good news. And the bad stuff too—everything.”
Suddenly sheepish, you direct the question back towards him, asking what’s been keeping him busy lately. His smile is immediate and wide. “I’ve been writing like crazy since I last saw you.” Jay tilts his head, chewing on his bottom lip, but his smile doesn’t budge. “It’s stupid but it sort of feels like I can… see or something now, again. If that makes sense.”
“Not at all.” You can’t help but smile too. “Tell me everything.”
Pressing his lips together, Jay lets his gaze flick towards the window, looking out at the quiet street. Across the road is a deserted play park with swings that sway in the wind. A fish-shaped spring rocker does the same, bobbing gently. A man pushes a pram. Jay opens his mouth and says, “It’s like I’ve been walking around blindfolded for the last few years and someone finally took it off of me, and now I can see and there’s—” He stops short, biting his lip as his eyes fall on the swirls in his coffee. And then flick up to meet yours. “Well now there’s so much light again.”
You clear your throat, your mind a storm, thoughts unclear over the rush of your blood, the pounding of your heart in your ears. The latte he got you, while delicious, does nothing to calm the raging waters. It feels so pointed, too pointed to ignore. You were startlingly aware of how your five-day fever dream had blurred a line or two in your head. Spending all that time together, letting him look after you — Neo opening the door, following the white rabbit — flipped the switch in your head and turned your ifs into whens. If / when we’re alone, if / when we kiss. Turned you back into an eighteen-year-old, waiting by the phone for Jay to text you back.
It’s only when his smile falters, just a touch, that you realise you haven’t said anything. “That’s kind of extremely beautiful,” you say finally, massively understating it.
“Yeah.” He nods. “I thought so too.”
After finishing your drinks, you sit for a while longer, rehashing uni gossip you bled dry years ago, until the staff start giving you increasingly dirty looks, all but begging you to leave.
Jay holds the door open for you. “So what are you up to today?”
“This is—” Cold wind scrapes your neck, cutting you off as you button your coat to the top. “This is what I’m up to today.”
An amused breath slips out of him, a white cloud by his nostrils, and he takes his scarf off, wrapping it around your neck instead. “I mean after,” he says, unmoved by his gesture. Meanwhile, you’ve got an inhale full of his scent and the exposed column of his neck, his heart-shaped birthmark, on your mind like a thirsty vampire. To your silence he waves his large hand in your face. “Earth to YN.”
“Right here, Park.” You swat his hand away, clearing your throat. “What are you up to after this?”
“I have a session in about an hour, come with?” he offers. “I should warn you though, it’ll be really boring.”
“Boring? I could tell you hated your job and all of your fans.”
“No, I mean for you.” Jay nudges your shoulder. Despite the layers, your heart stumbles at the contact. “Because you kind of just have to sit there and be quiet, which I know will be difficult for you.”
Heat floods your cheeks, pools at the base of your spine. “Shut up,” you mumble, turning away from him.
“What?” Genuine confusion pulls his voice up a few octaves. “Oh,” he says after a beat, figuring it out for himself. “I didn’t mean it like that, but when did I ever complain? I like it.”
“Please stop talking.”
Jay stands to attention, saluting you. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Fuck, if you’re going to beg me then, fine, Jay. I’ll come to the studio with you.” You sigh, struggling to fight a smile. “I can’t catch a break with you.”
His head tips back with sweet laughter and he loops his arm through yours, tugging you and the butterflies in your stomach down the road towards the station. “No, YN. You really can’t.”
On the empty platform, you stand side by side, looking at the massive NAPE poster plastered on the wall. Jay, who usually has no shortage of things to say at any given moment, stares at it in silence. The poster is taller than you are, with No Way Back Tour written at the top in blocky red sans serif. In the centre is a four cut photo strip with a picture of each member, that’s thresholded to oblivion, and the bottom lists a bunch of different venues around London.
“What do you think?” you ask. “I think it’s cool, the portraits look good with the red on them like that.”
Jay snaps back into motion, turning to face you, his teary eyes finding yours. He smiles. “I think I had something else in mind when Riki told me there was a huge poster of my face in the station.”
“What? Just your face?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, just my face.”
“Park Jongseong,” you utter, shaking your head. “Where is your team spirit?”
Jay rolls his eyes but can’t hide his smile. “Dead and gone. Take a picture? Please.” He holds his phone out for you to take and stands by the poster, poking the cheek of his large, printed face.
“Celebrities…” You sigh, though you can’t ignore the swell of pride in your chest. You’ve taken a thousand pictures of Jay standing by posters for movies and artists he enjoys, so this feels almost full-circle in a way you’re struggling to wrap your head around. “Can I take some on my phone?”
He nods, and you slip his phone into your bag, reaching for yours—“This is not happening right now!” A uniformed teenage girl is standing right behind you when you turn around. The strap of her backpack has a can badge with NAPE written on it. Her face and neck and ears bright red as she points a trembling finger at him. “You’re—you’re… Jay fucking Park!”
“Hello,” Jay says, he’s smiling too. He is also turning red. “Good morning.”
“Hello?” she repeats, incredulous. “Hello, yourself, Jay Park. Holy shit!” Everything she says sits at the junction of whispering and screaming as your eyes flick back and forth between the two of them.
“I really slept in this morning and I was like ugh, I don’t want to go to school, so I almost didn’t leave the house, but then I finally did and I was like, I don’t want to walk, so then I came down here, which I literally never do and then I saw you and I was like, she’s so pretty, and then you were taking pictures of literal Jay Park. This is like literally a sign,” she continues, all in one breath. When she shows you her lock screen, she’s listening to Carolina. “My top song for the last two years.”
You’ve never met a celebrity before, as a fan anyway, so you can’t say for sure how you’d react, but her coherence is impressive—you’re not sure you could stand in front of Michael B. Jordan without crying or screaming or proposing, never mind recounting the events that led you there in the first place.
Jay’s entire face is smiling, looking down at this sweet girl like she hung the moon and the stars—he looks like the fan here, hanging onto her every word. “It must be a sign. A great one. I’m really happy to meet you.” A beautiful mix of intrigue, delight, and timidness colours his tone and his wide eyes, straightens his spine.
You feel equally mesmerised by each of them.
“Same,” she says simply, extending a hand for both you and Jay to shake, the picture of composure all of a sudden. She’s amazing. “I’m Wonhee. No one at school’s going to believe this at all, holy shit.”
“Wonhee,” he repeats, to her utmost elation. “Do you want a picture, Wonhee? So everyone at school believes you?”
Wonhee’s jaw drops. “Are you kidding?”
When she says it’s okay, Jay puts his arm around her shoulders, a boyish grin scrunching his sweet face. He looks even more like the fan in all one million live photos you take on Wonhee’s phone. “Wow,” she utters, swiping through the pictures. “Wow!” A glorious, giddy laugh comes out of her and she bolts away up the stairs, leaving the station—so much for school.
“She was so cute,” you coo, unable to keep the smile off your face.
“Yeah.” Jay’s gaze stays on the stairs like she might come back. “Yeah, she was.”
“Look at you, my little celebrity!”
This makes him look away, his eyes falling to his feet, ears and neck just as red as Wonhee’s were. “No, not really,” he mumbles. “Or, not universally, which is a relief. I don’t really get noticed like that, and I think it was only because I was standing next to a giant picture of my face.”
And what a lovely face it is. “You’re her lockscreen, Jay. I’m sure she’d recognise you if she only saw the back of your head.”
“I’m her lockscreen?”
You nod, liking the giddy smile he wears. Liking the flutter in your stomach at the sight of it. The warmth in your chest. “Isn’t it so crazy that you’ve made her day, maybe even her week, and all you did was take a picture?”
“Not really, she’s made my day too.” Jay shrugs, blush still lingering on his skin. “I was already having an amazing day with you, of course. So meeting Wonhee’s just the cherry on top of a great day that already had a cherry on it.” His words come out rushed, one big run on word with no breaks to breathe or think. Like everything he says is coming out of him as soon as it crosses his mind.
“Great,” you say through a breathy laugh. “I’m having a good time too.”
“Washington State is actually the top producer of sweet cherries in the States, did you know that? I was starting to miss them, being away so long—and now I have two cherries on my wonderful day.” Jay is grinning from ear to ear like some sort of adorably Cheshire Cat / Joker hybrid, rocking back and forth on his feet. He might be the most excited person in the whole world at this very moment. Second to Wonhee at least.
You can’t think of the last time you saw him so excited about something. It’s interesting to see a celebrity so thrilled by parts of the job that seem so normal from the outside looking in. Something you’d think he’d be used to by now, two years and millions of streams in. Regardless, you’re just happy he’s happy.
And because you can’t resist teasing him, you say, “I get it, Jay. You’re having the best day of your life because you got attention from a pretty girl. Congratulations.” You give him a slow round of applause.
Undeterred, he tucks some of your hair behind your ear, his warm touch lingering on your skin. “I’m not trying to brag or anything, but I’ve gotten attention from two pretty girls today.”
Your cheeks burn. “Even better.”
Behind you, the Tube whooshes to a stop and the doors slide open right in front of where Jay’s standing. A distraction, finally. “And look at that,” he says, pointing to the doors. “Three cherries.”
NAPE’s room at Laughing Kitty Studios is a large wood-panelled rectangle and you two are the first to arrive. Jay takes his shoes off by the door, so you do the same, stepping in after him. Plaques and posters line the walls, streaming milestones and Nirvana. A worn leather couch sits in the middle of the room with a long table and two chairs at its back. Jay gestures around him and says, “This is where the magic happens.” He gives you a tour when you ask, showing you the huge monitor and lots of expensive mixing equipment that all looks the same to you. In the vocal booth, he shows you the controls and the locked cabinet where they keep snacks.
Helping you out of your coat, Jay hangs it up on the rack beside his and watches as you sink into the couch. “Do you prefer working here or at home?” you ask.
He takes a beat, thinking it over with his hands on his waist. “I guess it depends where we’re at. If we have a deadline or just want to get shit done, we work better here. And it’s nice having, like, a base, I guess, where other writers or producers can come to work with us.”
“That makes sense, it’s like a safe space, kind of.”
“Mmm, safe space,” he repeats. “I like that.” Jay sits too, leaving a small gap between you. “Most days though, especially when the weather’s shit, I prefer working at home.”
“Ah, see, I hated working at home; too many distractions.”
“Sunoo takes all our phones if he’s with us, so no distractions for NAPE at the studio.” Jay licks his lips, eyes meeting yours. “Not normally.”
Your awareness of Jay peaks. Of the spread of his thighs, of his hand grazing your leg when he lifts it from the couch cushion. Every cell in your body zings with this awareness, humming, and even though you’re smiling, even though your heart is a second away from beating out of your chest, you roll your eyes at him, cheeks on fire.
“Will you show me what you’ve been working on?” you ask. “Since I’ve come all this way?”
A boyish grin takes over his face as he nods. “But only because you’ve travelled all of fifteen minutes to get here, my strong, strong girl,” he says, taking out his phone and plugging it into the speaker behind the couch.
His strong, strong girl. Your sanity slips, just a little. Though you suppose it’s this alleged strength that keeps you sitting where you are, rather than jumping into his lap and kissing his stupid, handsome face.
Jay’s thumb hovers over the play button and he hesitates, seeming to second-guess himself before giving a hurried preface. “It’s just a demo, you know? Me and my guitar. I threw it together last night so the final thing probably won’t sound anything like this, alright?”
“You don’t have to play it for me if you don’t want to,” you say, squeezing his knee. “I’m sure it’s amazing though, because you wrote it.”
His ears go bright pink and he scratches the back of his neck. “It’s important to me that you hear it,” he tells you, sounding very certain for someone so clearly nervous. There’s something about it, his certainty, that makes your heart pick up, just a touch as you nod. He presses play and immediately the sound of his guitar fills the room, humming against the couch. Just like he did at the show, how he used to on the end of your bed, he picks a pretty melody. The image comes quick and clear—Jay at twenty. Twenty-one. Sitting in his underwear with his acoustic in his lap, picking the same notes over and over until they either sounded right, or you managed to convince him to get into bed instead. A knife to the gut would hurt less. And then he starts to sing. At first, in some of the most beautiful gibberish and lalalas you’ve ever heard. You open your mouth to compliment him anyway, but the lyrics come in, actual real words with actual real meanings, and everything you wanted to say falls to the wayside.
“You make my heart beat for you. I always cry too often, but I put too much in your hands. So much regret in the end,” Jay sings.
Through the speaker his voice is full and sincere and gorgeous as ever, all while he sits next to you with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. In your chest, your heart does an ungraceful tumble. If he can hear it, your thumping heart, he is polite enough not to comment, instead watching you closely, trying to gauge your reaction, maybe. Trying to read your mind.
“It’s a shame for you, it’s a shame for me. Is the blame on you? No, YN, it’s all on me.”
Oh.
A demo and a confession.
His thoughts laid bare at last, the vulnerability you used to beg for handed over on an acoustic platter. Curling around the room and filling the shortening gap between your bodies until your knee presses against his thigh, or the other way around—you can’t tell who moved. You don’t remember. You don’t care. Not when his lips are parted like that, not when he’s close enough for you to feel the heat radiating from his body. Close enough to kiss. The voice in your head says his name over and over. Jongseong. Jongseong. Jongseong. Your favourite nine letters stuck on the tip of your tongue. There are too many things to say, and too many ways to say them, so you don’t say anything at all.
Luckily, Jay says it all for you—sings it. “Wish I knew how to make it right. Just wanna look into your eyes, tell you the truth that I can’t hide, I love you so much.”
Answering seems so simple, but when you try, your mind blanks. Fills, rather, buzzing with all the wrong things. Thoughts and memories. Everything that’s happened over the last three weeks, the time you’ve been together again. Back in each other’s orbit. How he dropped everything to look after you, chose you.
How he finally chose you.
There’s a lightness in your chest, like some persistent weight has been lifted at long last. And now, looking at him, Jay. Your Jay—Jongseong. The freckles on his cheek, how the skin is tinted rosy. Pinched pink. His eyes, dark and wide and staring straight into yours. The only thing on your mind is: I love you, I love you, I love you. You tip your chin, and the space between your lips and his becomes little more than a technicality. His breath is warm against your skin, close enough to feel when it hitches. Close enough to see each of his eyelashes, to count them. To see how they flutter when he blinks, gaze falling to your mouth. Yours does the same, latching on the smooth pink skin, desperate now. Resisting seems futile, so you give in, pressing your lips to his and hoping it’ll be enough to tell him everything.
Jay’s relief is immediate. Clear in the shuddered breath that slips out of him, caught between kisses as he melts against you. His hand finds your jaw, fingers slipping into your hair behind your ear just like they used to. Tongue brushing up to tickle the roof of your mouth and make you smile like always. It feels like it’s been two minutes since your last kiss, not three years. Feels impossible that you went that long without this.
Without Jay.
His grip on your waist is gentle, but his fingertips sear your skin. He pulls you closer, and closer, each point of connection setting off a blaze in its wake. Mouth to mouth. Chest to chest. Knees to the sides of his thighs as you sink into his lap. Like this, under you, the sight of Jay is too much—flushed cheeks, plump lips, ragged breath. The feel of him, all solid muscle and huge palms slipping under your skirt. Nails digging into the curve of your ass. You lean in, lips catching his jaw, finding the side of his neck. His skittering pulse. His birthmark. Sucking on the warm skin there makes him groan, makes his hips buck. His dick strains against his jeans, hitting the exact spot that makes you putty in his hands, moans slipping from both of you as you work up a rhythm.
Your name trails off into a sigh when he tries to say it. “What does this mean?” he asks, breathless.
“I don’t know,” you admit, and for a long while afterwards, the only sound in the studio is the two of you trying to catch your breath. “Do you want to stop?” you ask, terrified for the answer.
Jay says nothing.
Your fingers slip easily through his hair, playing with the tickly short strands on the sides of his head. His question feels heavier the longer he goes without speaking, the longer you stew on it. What does this mean, if anything? There’s an uncomfortable swoop in your stomach, how could this possibly mean nothing? Nothing more than a spur of the moment makeout, never to be spoken of. A unanimous mistake.
On an inhale, Jay’s chest puffs out, touching yours for a heartbeat and he shakes his head. “Not for anything,” he whispers, leaning up to kiss you again.
And this time, when he rocks his hips, his grip on you tightens and he pulls you down to meet them. It’s too much all at once, heat lashing at you from every angle. Increasing with each brush of your tongues, with each press of his covered dick between your legs. Need burns a flame at the base of your stomach, tugs a whine out of you.
Against yours, Jay’s lips quirk into a smile, a smirk. “Needed this just as bad as me, huh, baby?” he asks, voice a low rasp.
“More,” you breathe.
To this, he pulls away, looking up at you with furrowed brows. He shakes his head and says, “No way.” Jay’s heavy palm cups your cheek, his eyes round and wide. A burst of tenderness in the midst of all the heat as his hips freeze under you. A flutter in your stomach. Warmth in your chest, on your cheeks.
“Absolutely, no way,” he says and once again, his lips come up to meet yours. Slow this time, gentle and sweet.
Until laughter erupts from the door, and forces the two of you apart. As if being caught in this position isn’t bad enough, a string of spit attaches you to him when you pull away. There are two guys standing in the doorway, one of them still laughing, the other one pressing his lips in a flat line, as though seeing the two of you like this is disappointing but not surprising.
Frustration and embarrassment wash over you in equal measure, a wave with the force of an eighteen-wheeler casting its great shadow above you. Only death could fix this, of that, you are certain—you can’t laugh at a dead person. At least not right away, surely there’s a buffer period of some description.
The amused one speaks first. “I thought you said you moved the couch off the wall so they wouldn’t fuck on it.”
“Yes, Jungwon. That was the general idea.” Stepping into the studio, shoes off, the disappointed one points at the sign above the light switch—a short list of forbidden things that has, no sex in the studio, written in bold, red letters at the top of it.
Great.
Maybe under different circumstances, if Jay had shown it to you, you might have laughed at the sign, thinking of what had to go wrong to lead to such a notice existing in the first place. For sex to rank over smoking and playing ball games on the list of things not to do in there. Now, like this, sitting in Jay’s lap with only a few layers of clothing between his erection and your dripping cunt, it makes you want to die.
Already, you had a whole host of things to stew over in bed tonight — spending all morning with Jay, the song, the kiss — and now you get to add being walked in on to the roster.
The rush of blood in your ears is disorienting, warbling Jay’s voice when he says, “It’s a great sign, Sunoo.” Completely unconcerned, he wears a great big smile and keeps his hands under your skirt. “But it says nothing about kissing.”
Your breath catches. Sunoo. His manager. Even better.
Without another thought, you stand, straightening your skirt. Jay doesn’t move, he just sits there with his hands on his thighs, eyes trailing over every inch of your body as if you’re still alone. As if now that he knows he can, he wants to use the opportunity to the fullest.
“Yes,” Sunoo agrees, sinking into one of the spinny chairs by the monitor and rubbing his temples. “And I’m coming to regret that.”
Silence hangs over the room as Jungwon steps inside, closing the door after himself. He runs his finger over the sign, following the words one at a time like he’s sounding it out or studying it. How nice it must be, not to have a stake in this moment. You clear your throat, deciding that if the universe isn’t going to answer your pleas for sudden death, you might as well perform good and normal social niceties. “I’m YN,” you announce, so loud that Jungwon flinches by the door. “It’s… nice to meet you both.”
“Likewise.” A genuine smile covers Sunoo’s face, scrunches his eyes—it’s like looking at an angel. “I can see why Jay talks about you so much.”
“Sorry for…” You trail off, unsure how best to put across whatever the hell you and Jay were doing—sorry for having a reconciliatory dry hump on your couch, doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. “That,” you say finally.
He laughs and the sound is delightful, a dismissive wave of his hand accompanying it like he wasn’t just losing his mind. “Please, that wasn’t even the worst thing I’ve walked in on this week.” Sunoo shudders, seeming truly disturbed. “First time offence for Jay though,” he adds thoughtfully, which is oddly reassuring.
Jungwon claps his hands, one loud smack as he sits on the other end of the couch, a bright smile on his face like he’s solved some pressing matter. “So what if the sign says, no partners in the studio, instead?” he asks, nudging Jay.
His emphasis on the word partner sets off your stomach, steadily fluttering butterflies flying around a swirl of heat. Is that where this might have led? Where you and Jay could end up? Partners. Again? Casual-workplace-dry-humpationship isn’t a relationship status you’ve had before, or heard of, but now, the thought of it being as far as things go here, with Jay, is a horrible weight on your shoulders, a pressure in your chest.
Sunoo sighs. “I love this band, I really do, but the horny fuckers would just kiss each other.”
At this, you all laugh. All but Sunoo, anyway.
It’s straight to work when the rest of the guys arrive, and Sunoo settles on the other end of the couch, typing away at his laptop and pausing to give his opinion when they ask. Sunghoon sits with his knees to his chest, picking at his lip as he stares at the screen, clicking this and that, playing it back over and over, no matter what imperceptible change they’ve suggested.
Standing over his shoulder, Heeseung tilts his head. “Actually, yeah. Your way’s better, cut that.”
“I think quiet for half a bar instead of fading out—everything off just vocals, and then back on full force for the last chorus. Louder,” Jake suggests, so Sunghoon does just that and plays the whole thing over again. You can’t hear the difference, but all of the guys hum in approval.
Heeseung riffs. Jay does the same on his guitar, and he was sort of right. Maybe if you were less fascinated by him, you would be bored. But he’s kind of extremely good at this. All of them. They manage to lock in for hours at a time, bouncing ideas around and executing them perfectly in a matter of two or three takes. Late in the afternoon, Jungwon orders pizza and they stop working to eat before getting right back to it. It’s the only break they take all day.
“Look, I know you want to, but you don’t need to take a new song out with you—not yet anyway.” Sunoo stands up from the couch, putting his laptop into his bag. “You still have time to decide on the encore show, but maybe after all the travelling you’ll have a few finished songs. New setting, new inspiration.”
Jake furrows his brows. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, I think we’re cutting it a bit thin. I mean this is your last full week off — bar rehearsal — before tour starts, and I don’t want you so stressed about something with an easy fix.”
At the mention of the word tour, Jay stiffens. You do the same.
Jungwon takes his headphones off and turns to face the room, laptop in hand to show the screen. “Do we like these T-shirts for the U.S. shows?”
“Yeah, but…” Sunghoon squints, getting closer. “They look just like the Australia and New Zealand shirts.”
“Which look just like the Europe ones,” Heeseung points out.
Every sentence makes things worse and worse. They’re going on tour in a week. Jay is leaving in a week. Going to the U.S., to fucking Oceania, and this is how you’re finding out. The tightness in your chest, the ache in your stomach, is immediate. Instead of looking at you, Jay bites at his nails. Scrunches his nose.
“If we could kindly get back on track,” Sunoo interrupts, pulling his jacket on. “You have Live Lounge when you’re back in March, VEVO Studios in April—much better opportunities to showcase new music. I know you want something special for fans, but maybe we can shoot a performance video of… Royalty? And release it on Valentine’s Day?”
Jay hides his face in his hands. “Okay.”
“Just think about it, okay. It’s up to you, and I promise I’ll support whatever you decide. For now, though, I have carbonara and an episode of Lovely Runner waiting for me at home, so I’m away, yeah?”
With that, Sunoo leaves and Jungwon is quick to follow. The guys sit in silence for a bit before getting back to work. By your side, Jay hunches over his guitar, resting his chin on the body, picking at the strings aimlessly. Across the room, Heeseung, Jake, and Sunghoon crowd around the monitor, nitpicking.
While their demo plays through the speakers again, louder than before, Jay finally speaks. “You and your friends can come if you’re up to it, to the London show. Whoever you want. On me,” he mumbles, looking at the fretboard instead of you.
“Okay.” You nod, though the thought of having to tell Minjeong that Jay has upset you again, that you’ve let him close enough to be upset by him again, is too grim to bear, so you text the chat, inviting them along instead.
you: Nape concert next Friday night on me (on the band) who’s there?
somi: me me me me me
yizhuo: Will Jake be there?
riki: will jake be at his concert.
riki: what happened w you and jimin 🤔
yizhuo: No further questions your honour (she only wants to hookup HAHAHHAHA).
riki: my apologies twin (Go Get Your #Man).
you: Oh okay bc I thought you all had very important jobs right . Right. MY FUCKING BAD.
And just like that, all three of them stop texting.
It’s ten p.m. by the time you and Jay reach your flat, and neither of you have said anything since you said bye to the other guys back at the studio, ten Tube stops ago. You search in your bag for your keys, desperate to end this silence by disappearing inside. Jay has other plans though, apparently, because when you twist your key in the lock and step over the threshold he sighs, saying your name. You don’t look at him.
“I swear to God, I was going to tell you about the tour, okay? I wouldn’t just leave like that. Not again.” Though his credibility where telling you things is concerned is shaky at best, you nod and he continues. “I’ve known for ages, obviously, but I wasn’t sure when to tell you or if you’d care.”
“You weren’t sure I’d care that you’re leaving for two months?” you ask, hoping he can hear how absurd that sounds.
“Three months,” he corrects, mumbling an apology when you squint at him. “I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about what I thought this was or could be, by talking about my short-term plans like you’re my girlfriend or something.”
Your scoff echoes through the hall, an accurate reflection of the irritation that heats you from the inside out. “Sure, Jay. Give me the right idea then.”
He takes a beat, his eyes catching over all of your features. “You’re cross with me,” he states simply.
Cross, he said. As if that even begins to cover it. Maybe if you were any less cross with him, the Briticism might have made you smile. “Very.”
“I’m sorry, YN. I should’ve told you sooner.”
“Sunoo told me. You didn’t say anything.”
“Look, I didn’t mean to—” Jay pauses, pressing his eyes shut with his fingers until his nails turn pale. With a shaky breath, he tries again. “We didn’t have hard conversations at home. My parents would just make up their minds and do shit, you know. I found out we were moving to Seoul when my dad came into my room with a bunch of boxes, and told me to fill them up.”
The words rush out of him, each of them a blade to the heart, deeper than the last. Twisting. You’ve seen all of his childhood photos, the calendar his parents had made when he was eight. His permed curly hair and bright smile, those big round eyes that never failed to melt your heart no matter how many times you saw the pictures. Hearing that his parents could raise him that way, their only child, to change his life at the drop of a hat, like he was just another thing to put in a box and cart away, stings the backs of your eyes. From what you remember, he’d gone from the U.S. to Korea, then London, all so quickly—and now you know, with no warning.
“London was the same, back to Tacoma, same thing, and back again. I never really…” He trails off, chewing on his lip before he starts again. “I thought Edinburgh would be like that too, it was supposed to be. But then I met you, and for the first time, the thought of leaving was terrifying. I thought it was about the band, what my parents might say, but it was you, YN. I never had a home to leave until I met you, and I didn’t realise that until it was already too late.”
The realisation sets in with deep unease. His room in Edinburgh was completely bare when you met him, just the essentials, the stuff you can only assume was easy to move with. It was only after the two of you had been together for a while that his room started filling up. Posters and knick-knacks. Snowglobes and postcards from whatever holiday Minjeong had planned for you, her and Jaehyun. At the end of it all, by the time it had been two weeks since Jay left your place and never looked back, his flatmate Wonbin handed you a box with these things in it. To your confusion, to your upset, he only raised a brow and said, I thought you agreed it’d be better to end things? With him moving back home and that…
“And even after I left, I had a million and one chances to reach out to you, to explain, apologise, all of it, but I—I really let you down, and I’m sorry. I’m not that person anymore.” He looks down, shaking his head. “I don’t want to be that person anymore.”
Your body reacts before your words can, hand reaching out to his cheek, cupping the smooth, flushed skin. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and the only thing you can say is, “You’re not. It’s okay, I promise.”
“It’s not, YN.” He presses his lips together, biting the skin until the pressure turns the pink pale. “I just want you to be happy.”
Again, the words are right there, twisting painfully in your throat and stuck to the tip of your tongue. I love you. I still love you. It’s you, Jay. It’s always, only you. But you can’t get them out, can’t bring yourself to say them. “I am happy, Jay,” you say instead.
Jay’s lips quirk up at the corners, not quite a smile but close. “You’re happy,” he repeats, nodding his head as he seems to consider this. The silence is awful, turning your stomach and when he finally opens his mouth to speak, you’re so certain he’s going to wish you a goodnight that you rush to speak first.
“When are you leaving?”
“Saturday.” One day after the London show. Ten days from today. “Manchester’s Tuesday, then Glasgow, Dublin…” He trails off, but you know the rest—Paris, Hamburg, Stockholm… Auckland, Brisbane… You studied the order from the poster Jungwon showed you.
“When can I see you again?” you ask quietly.
“I’m not sure.” Jay tilts his head. “Want me to send you my Google Calendar?”
He’s kidding, you know that much, but still, you say, “Please.”
At this, he pulls up the app on his phone, multi-coloured blocks filling the screen. “Looks like I’m free at 3 a.m. tomorrow,” he says, clicking the share button and pasting the link in your text thread, where your contact is saved as MY ❤️. Still. Jay hits send on the message and again his calendar fills the screen. “And right now.”
“Me too…” You trail off.
To your surprise, it doesn't take much more to get Jay into the flat, into your room. To have your back against the bedroom door and his lips on yours, not even separating to push your coat down your shoulders. His hands span wherever he can touch, slipping under your shirt to press your body closer to his.
Jay tugs at the waistband of your tights. "Want these off."
"Later." You chase his kiss, desperate not to lose momentum, not to give either of you an opportunity to think about this and what it means.
Relenting, his hand slips under them instead, grabbing your ass. Bucking forwards, you feel his thick cock against you, a swirl of heat ravishing the base of your stomach. He sighs into the kiss, parting your legs with his thigh and guiding you over the solid muscle.
It's not enough. "My tights," you say, changing your tune. "Rip them, Jay.”
He moans on a shaky exhale, pulling away to look down at you. "Are you joking? I can't tell if you're joking." His eyes are blown and frantic, searching your face. As soon as you shake your head, he tugs at the thin fabric until it tears, making a hole. Cool air rushes against you, forcing you to draw a breath. "Now what?”
You push your damp underwear to the side, fingers parting your slick folds before you rock your hips once more. Painfully slow. The feeling of his thigh, the rough denim of his jeans grazing your clit, makes you whimper into the space between you. Jay's lips quirk up at the corner, his bruising grip guiding your hips back and forth.
"So needy, aren't you?" He pushes his thigh harder against you. "What am I gonna do with you, beautiful?"
Holding his gaze is an effort, but you'd die if you missed the way he looks right now, half-lidded eyes looking down at you, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Even blinking feels like a waste. "Anything, Jay. Do anything."
"Bed?" As soon as you nod he carries you over, setting you down.
You lean up on your elbows to watch him undress—his jacket comes off first, falling to the floor. Then his T-shirt, pulled over his head, triceps huge when he bends his arms. A lick of need burns your core at the sight of his tattoo peeking out over his waistband, the thick dark hair under his belly button. You have to chew on your lip to hold a moan, but he notices.
"Like what you see?" He smiles, freeing his belt from the loops of his jeans.
"Mhm."
Jay's eyes trail over your body, skin ablaze wherever his gaze lands. "Not as much as I like you." He leans over and kisses you. "Your pretty little mouth," he murmurs, lips trailing your throat. "Your neck, your shoulders." At your chest, he takes his time. Sucking and licking your nipples through your tank top, urging whimpers out of you with each bite and tug. It's only when he continues down the rest of you that you remember the point he's making, a kiss pressed by your belly button. "Your stomach, thighs. Everything, baby. Love all of you.”
Love all of you. You can't breathe. Love all of you. His hands slip under your skirt, pulling off your panties and torn tights in one go. Love all of you. You might die here, now, like this.
He gets up to take off his pants, leaving only his tight grey underwear and the dark patch in the centre, where the fabric clings to his leaking tip. "Want you on me, YN." He licks his lips before a breathtaking smile spreads over them, slow and feline. A smirk, more like. "Sound good? You wanna sit on d—my face?" Even the thought of riding his face, of the word he stopped himself from saying, hitches your breath.
Saying, please, is a measured effort, though he wastes no time getting between your legs. Just the feel of him under you, his built shoulders and solid chest, thick arms wrapped around your soft thighs; seeing him like this, eyes half-lidded and stuck on your cunt, is dizzying and he hasn't even touched you yet.
"So pretty everywhere." The words are a low whisper, warm and sudden, before he licks you from back to front.
A burst of pleasure arches your back, coursing through you immediately as you grind down on him, rutting against the tip of his nose. Dipping into you, his tongue moves slowly to match the roll of your stuttering hips—he's kissing you, making out. And loving every second of it if his groans are anything to go off of. It is, at once, too much and not enough. His pouty mouth finds your clit, licking it in circles, driving you crazy.
"Fuck," you whine. "Like that."
When he hums in response, it rumbles through you, forcing a moan from you as you tug at his hair. At the feeling of it, he groans, burying his face deeper and deeper. Tipping his chin towards you. In his enjoyment of it all, in his actions, he makes no effort to be quiet—squelches amplified and filthy, with his exaggerated movements of his mouth against your soaking cunt.
Your orgasm creeps up on you, slow to start but quickly overbearing. "Jay." From your lips, his name is a wobbly cry. "Jay," you repeat. Falling forwards, your hands grip fruitlessly at the sheets, whole body trembling in his hold. Pure bliss washes over you in harsh waves, whiting the dark behind your closed eyelids. How could you ever go without this again? How did you manage in the first place? You can't even voice it, warn him, that you're close, that you're there, unthinkable heat hitting you from every angle as you gush all over him. He doesn't let up, only humming and licking more feverishly, quicker, harder, and pressing the entire bottom half of his face to you, drinking up your release.
Catching your breath is an impossibility, your legs and stomach twitching as he cleans you up with his tongue, murmuring praises against you. Thank you, baby, as his nose hits your clit. Missed this pretty pussy, after he licks your clenching hole. So good for me, when he sucks at your inner thigh. Jay looks a mess when you finally sit up, glancing down at him. Ruffled hair. Slow blinking eyes. Everything from his straight nose down is slick and shiny, cum slipping over his jaw, and a smile curving his swollen lips. A handsome mess.
You clench around nothing.
Later, you share the shower and lots of kisses, teeth bumping under the spray as Jay whimpers, coming in your hand before getting into bed. He strokes your hair, twirling the ends around his fingers, and opening his mouth to speak but says nothing. Minutes pass like this until you finally ask, “What is it?”
He shakes his head, smiling too. “It’s nothing.”
“Tell me, baby.”
“I just… I kind of feel like I’m dreaming or something,” he admits softly, though you feel the words in every part of you.
Stuck for what to say, scared to say anything, you lean up and kiss him instead. Kiss him until your stomach starts to flutter. Until you’re gasping for breath, legs tangling together under the duvet, because if this really is a dream, you don’t want to have any regrets when you wake up.
@.gigiseung: DUDEEEEEE JAY GOT A GIRLFRIEND 😭😭😭 I USED TO PRAY FOR TIMES LIKE THIS THE MUSIC IS GONNA BE HAPPY !!!!!!! FINALLY!!!!!!!!!!
@.nojayback: WHY DID HE PUT HIS SCARF ON HER LIKE THAT WHO TAUGHT HIM THAT ??? WHO EVEN IS SHEEEEE 😭😭😭
@.sunghoon67: IDK WHO SHE IS I JUST KNOW SHE’S HOT AND HAS AN ACCENT
@.nojayback: AND LOOK AT HIS OUTFIT HE MET WONHEE IN THIS OUTFIT DID THIS GIRL TAKETHAT FUCKING PICTURE??? @.jaykeyaoi wake tF UP RNNNN DID YOU MEET HER TOO???
@.NAPEisFOUR: So friendship between a man and a woman isn’t a thing anymore? This fandom never fails to disgust me.
@.gigiseung: @.NAPEisFOUR GOODBYEEEE a sex tape would be less incriminating.
minjeong: Oh girl I can’t defend you anymore send my fucking jacket back TODAY
you: What jacket ???
Her next message has ten pictures. And then another set of ten pictures. And then another.
minjeong: Lie again. Asking “what jacket” DUDE I SEE YOU WEARING IT AND WITH YOUR FUCKING SATANIC EX TOO… Killing you would not be enough.
All of the pictures are Twitter screenshots, threads of NAPE fans trying to solve a mystery by the looks of things. Several photos of you and Jay, a video, even. All from yesterday morning.
@.hojumilkpuppy: ALL THESE FUCKING PICTURES AND NOT ONE SHOT OF HER FACE ??? ARE WE KIDDING RN WHO IS THIS AND WHERE DID SHE GET THAT JACKET
@.gigiseung: OP said she has an accent and jay said he studied in edinburgh right?
@.hojumilkpuppy: Are You Trying To Tell Me This Is Miss Carolina.
@.jaysnape: am i the only one who thinks filming them like this is weird af idk it’s nice seeing him all smiley and in love but idkkkkk it feels weird seeing this when they clearly have no idea they’re on camera
@.ClubNAPE: If you’re feeling distressed by the video, it’s ok. But please take care of yourself. Step away from social media for a couple of days. Don’t attack or criticise Jay, too much money and time went into publicly harassing him and it finally paid off for those people.
@.jm4pjs: Thanks for trying to encourage us, but I’m so sad and furious at the same time…For now I’m empty… I hope he uses condoms…
@.ClubNAPE: Trust me when I say he doesn’t go that far with her. Just, please trust me.
@.hojumilkpuppy: You are an adult.
Each thread follows a similar pattern, hundreds, maybe thousands, of NAPE fans freaking out over the video. Posting detailed body language analysis to prove and disprove the true nature of your and Jay’s relationship. The split seems even enough—half of them happy for Jay, for you; half of them affronted by the mere suggestion that Jay might have feelings for any woman in a way beyond friendship. The worst part of it all, by your standards at least, is that you’re just as confused as them and it’s your relationship.
The original video, sunghoon67’s pinned tweet, has over a million views. In all of her replies, she goes to bat for you, insisting that the whole time she saw you and Jay, the two of you seemed comfortable and happy, and that she was not stalking him, but happened to be at the café studying for over an hour when you arrived.
somi: YOU AND JAY???
yizhuo: Do Not even get me started.
riki: you told them about uni? i thought that was a secret yn u made me feel special…you okay though? this is kind of extremely crazy 🤔
yizhuo: What the fuck do you mean UNI
somi: ???
riki: ning yizhuo you have a degree i know ykwtf uni is.
You mute the groupchat, putting your phone on Do Not Disturb.
What Twitter user #hoonjay real’s deep analysis of it all says about them, you’re unsure. An odd mix of delight at the thought of other people perceiving you and Jay as happy together, and discomfort at the thought of someone studying you so closely, filming you without your knowing, clash in your head. The more tweets you read, thanking OP for sharing, and bashing OP for the same thing, the more confused you feel. You spend an hour like this, laying in the bed Jay left this morning, scrolling through Twitter and Reddit, refreshing the timeline to read new responses as they come in. More and more people claim to have seen you together, inventing stories about you yelling at Jay in Notting Hill, or kissing him in Piccadilly. All the while, Minjeong continues to text.
minjeong: And you did it in the street WEARIGN MY FUCKING JACKET THIS IS HOW I FIND OUT YOU STOLE MY JACKET??? This is SO embarrassing for me imagine all the people that think I’m Park Jongseong’s fucking girlfriend because they saw you in my jacket
you: Imagine all the people that think I’M his girlfriend ???
minjeong: You’re not?
you: Define girlfriend.
minjeong: A frequent or regular female companion in a romantic or sexual relationship
you: Define frequent.
minjeong: I really don’t have time for this YN.
minjeong: Are you okay though? Fr
you: I’m good! People think I have nice hair and good taste in jackets, over the moon rn 🥰
Three dots appear on her side of the chat and your phone vibrates in your palm. Jay’s name and an old photo of him with his hair bleached take over your screen. Jay at twenty-one—fast asleep in your childhood bed, cuddling your worn Snoopy plushie. “Hey, are you home?”
“Mhm.”
A sigh comes through the phone, he sounds relieved. “Please open the door.” He’s standing on the mat when you do, chewing furiously at his lip. He hugs you and apologises into the crook of your neck. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, Jay,” you mumble into his chest. “Are you okay? Are you coming in?”
Jay sighs again, letting his shoulders fall. He assesses your face, still holding you close. “Wish I could, baby. I’m on a potty break,” he says, completely earnest.
“Potty break?”
“Like, restroom? It’s a long story, but the suits made a slidesh—” His phone goes off loudly in his pocket, buzzing between your bodies and making him sigh. “I’ll tell you later, alright? I have to get back.”
“Later today?”
Jay shakes his head, pecking your lips. It’s not enough—there’s no such thing with him, so you pull his bottom lip between yours. “Don’t want you… staying up just for me,” he mumbles, the words warm against your mouth as his hand comes up to hold your cheek.
“You’re worth it, Jay,” you admit.
He draws a breath, pulling away just enough to look at you. His face softens, a smile on his lips, his eyes on yours. “You’re cute,” he says softly, thumb brushing over your skin. “I’ll think about it.” When his phone goes off this time, it rings. A call. He mutters a curse, pressing his forehead to yours like he might ignore it, like he might stay, then he kisses you once more. “I really have to go.”
“How about you text me when you’re done and we’ll see if I’m still up?” you suggest.
“Alright, princess. We’ll see.”
And by fire, by force, you are still up at two in the morning when he texts you to say he’s all done at the studio. You open the door to usher a tired Jay to the kitchen, sitting him down at the table where you’ve heated up leftovers for him. A slow smile lights up his face and he eats quietly, only breaking to chug water.
Aeri comes into the kitchen, greeting you both with a tired hum before filling her bottle with water from the filter. On the way out, she smacks Jay over the head with a flat palm. “My loyalty is to YN before it’s to you or Heeseung, okay?”
He winces, clutching the back of his head and nodding. “Got it.”
After food, you wash his dishes while he showers, and he climbs into bed with damp hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he mumbles against your skin. “Thank you so much, baby.”
“Thank you for coming over…” You trail off. For making time for me, you think but don’t say.
“I really am sorry about this whole thing. The photos, people talking… Jesus.” Jay sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t want you worrying about any of this, it’ll die down, alright? I promise, shit like this, it always dies down.”
“I’m not worried about any of it, Jay. Promise. It’s kind of cool how much your fans care, a lot of people really love you,” you say. “I’m just happy you’re okay and that you’re here.”
His lips spread into a smile against your temple. “I’m happy I’m here too,” he murmurs, pulling you into his chest. Though naturally, because you are you, and he is Jay, your lips find each other anyway. Kissing for an hour like a bunch of teenagers before you fall asleep.
It’s perfect.
Mostly.
The days leading up to the concert go by similarly, with you and Jay meeting up after his studio sessions or rehearsals. Some nights you hook up, most nights you cuddle and watch the newer seasons of Formula 1: Drive to Survive, which he pauses every two seconds to add his own — very necessary — commentary. Neither of you mention the concert or what’s going to change when he leaves the day after. Its first mention is on the day of, when he sends you a text.
jongseong 😽: We have about an hour or two downtime before the show if you want to head over during that? So around like 5, yeah? Sunoo can come and meet you and bring you up
you: Sounds good see you sooooonn!
jongseong 😽: See you babyyyyy got soundcheck so talk in a few :D
At a pub you’ve never been to, you meet up with Yizhuo to nurse a pint and eat truffle mac‘n’cheese. So much has changed since you last saw her and it’s only been a week and a half. Life has a way of doing that—flipping things on their head when you least expect it.
“Have you heard back from anywhere?” she asks, clearing her plate. “From Interview?”
You deflate, sipping sweet golden nectar from your glass. “Not yet.”
“Try not to look so worried, it’ll be good news. I can tell.”
“What if it isn’t?” The words are impossible to say, a pathetic mumble over the speakers. It feels a bit like admitting defeat. You’d been relatively optimistic at first, but hardly anyone gets the first job they apply for. Or the first thirty. Creative jobs are hard enough to come by as it is, and after all the difficulty of securing one, the only thing anyone leaves for is the grave. “I can’t wait forever, Yizhuo. I’ve got maybe two more months before I need to go and stay with my parents again.” And that’s if you stop using your redundancy pay for frivolous things like groceries and rent.
“It won’t get to that. You’re capable, you’re smart, you’re qualified.” Yizhuo says firmly, squeezing your hand over the sticky tabletop. “Just because things are bad now doesn’t mean they’ll be bad forever. Soon, we’ll look back at this moment and laugh about it at work drinks. I promise.”
You hope she’s right. You need her to be right.
When you meet up with Sunoo, he leads you through the venue’s back entrance and to the green room, where Jay and Riki are the only people inside, bickering on the couch. At the sound of the opening door, they quit it, and Jay greets you with a bright grin. His tight-fitting black long sleeve is tucked into his dress pants, and a pair of wire-frame glasses sit on the bridge of his nose. It’s like seeing God. He hugs Yizhuo first, though in light of #JaysGF-gate and your sharing of the full story, she’s not his biggest fan at the moment. You however, as evidenced by the last week you’ve spent joined at the hip, are more than eager to have Jay’s arms around you.
“Hey, beautiful. How’s your day been?” he asks, pecking your lips.
“Good, Jay. How are you feeling?”
He was a nervous wreck this morning, pacing the length of your bedroom until the absolute last second he had to leave. Now though, he seems relaxed, like he’s left with only excitement for tonight. “Better now that you’re here,” he admits. It doesn’t sound like a line when he says it, but Sunoo mutters, Jesus fucking Christ, before he leaves.
You tease him too, rolling your eyes despite the smile on your face. Despite the fact you feel the same way.
Unfazed, he only smiles wider, holding your jaw and kissing you. He tastes like spearmint, like Jay. “Want me to show you around, baby?”
“Yes!” Riki says before you have the chance. “I’ve never been backstage before.”
Yizhuo has to grab him by the sleeve, stopping him in his tracks. “Not you, weirdo.”
“You don’t know that.” He yanks his arm from her hold, straightening his denim jacket over his shoulders and running a hand through his hair.
Jay takes you by the hand to give you a tour. Just you. Dressing room, catering, the wings. One small lounge for each of the members. There isn’t much inside: a vanity, a couch, a coffee table. His guitar and his bag. All the while, a nervous flicker turns your stomach, anxious like you’re the one about to perform in front of thousands of people.
In the privacy of his locked room, he holds you in his arms, looking down at you. His eyes trail your body, a sweet smile curving his lips. “Look amazing, baby. Always so pretty,” he says, tucking your hair behind your ears.
A different kind of nervousness sets in, classic giddy fluttering, mind racing and trying hard to think of the perfect thing to say at the perfect time. It’s reassuring, feeling like this again, warm and happy—bitten by the lovebug you’d long stopped believing in. No matter what happens tomorrow, when he leaves, at least you know that feeling can still exist for you. The thought is scary now, but most of those big truths always are in the abstract. Until they happen.
You smile up at him, desperate to live in this moment forever, pushing his hair back from his forehead. “Thank you, Jay. So do you,” you say. “My handsome baby.”
Pink tints his cheeks, eyes wide for a split second. “You mean it?”
“Mhm. Love these glasses too, they make you look all serious, like a sexy professor or something," you joke, startled to find you mean it. “Tell me more about changing the subject of a formula, Mr. Park.”
“No way,” Jay mutters, his hips bucking towards yours. “Can’t do this with you right now, baby.”
“Can’t do what, Mr. Park?”
He sighs and shakes his head. “Be good, YN. Please.”
“Yes, sir.”
And like you’ve scalded him, Jay steps away, biting his lip. With his eyes screwed shut, he grabs at the crotch of his pants, adjusting himself before sitting on the couch and patting the cushion next to him. Stepping out of your boots, you curl into his side, playing with his fingers. “You never told me what happened with the song you guys were working on,” you say, hoping not to pressure him after what you heard at the studio.
Luckily, your question seems to do the opposite, and his face lights up. “We finalised it this afternoon! You’ll hear it tonight, baby. I really hope you like it.” A knock on the door punctuates his answer, and he has to disappear for hair and makeup while you wait in the green room.
The boys aren't gone for long, but you don't get any time alone with Jay before he has to go on stage. No time to properly process how good he looks with his hair all spiked up. His freckles aren't covered at all, and his black long sleeve fits like a second skin, clinging to every curve and contour on his torso and arms. You can't help but touch him, feeling his sculpted chest and racing heart against your palms.
"You look..." There's no single word you could use to describe him right now, as he looks at you through matte black sunglasses. "I think you're going to have to surgically remove my mouth from you later," you say pressing a kiss to his soft lips, already picturing your evening plans. As if overhearing, excited as well, the crowd roars before starting to sing along to whatever Jungwon is playing through the speakers.
“Good, baby. That’s good to hear, I’m looking forward to it.” Jay’s grip on your waist is firm, holding you as close as possible, tickling the roof of your mouth with his tongue. A breath comes out of him, flustered, eager, happy, and he rests his forehead on yours. “Wish me luck?”
Giddy butterflies turn in your stomach, your smile impossible to contain. “Good luck, Mr. Park.”
“Mm,” he hums, kissing you again. “I have no plans to go easy on you later, darling.”
It’s Sunghoon who finally has to pry Jay’s grip away from your waist, a firm tug that does little to quell the burning heat on your cheeks and neck. His transformation takes a split second, going from Park Jongseong, the guy you’ve known and wanted all this time, to Jay Park from NAPE, golden under the amber spotlight and singing his heart out. If he wasn’t so good, you’d have more time to process how strange it all is, how clear it is that he comes alive on the stage. All of them do. Like they’re finally doing the exact thing they were put on earth to do.
Song after song, it becomes clear what they mean when they talk about themselves and the fans and the energy. How they meet in the middle, feeding off of each other. Watching it like this, backstage with your friends, it feels like you’ve been let in on something unthinkably special. That feeling sticks around for the length of the entire two hour set, amplifying.
The crowd boos when Jay announces that they’ve reached the end of the show. “But we have one last song for you tonight, something very new and very dear to me—” he says, grinning into his mic when they cheer again. “—I’ve been going through a bit of a funk, I guess,” he admits.
In the front row, you see very pretty women frowning, touched to hear about Jay’s hardships — no matter how vague — like they’re taking them on themselves. Somi squeezes your hand, pointing them out to you and mumbling that they’re so cute. You agree.
“But a couple weeks ago, something really special happened for me, and when I finally figured it all out, what it meant to me, I sat up all night working on this song. And the guys and I have been grinding to get it done, so it’s been a long time coming, and we hope you love it. This is Out Sick.”
All of the lights go dim, save for a stark spotlight that shines straight on Jay. The venue holds its breath, and he looks over his shoulder, craning his neck just a bit to find you. When his eyes meet yours, he gives you a smile, soft and warm, your Jongseong in that moment. Your smile is immediate, a second of calm in your pounding heart as he strums the first chord and turns back to the crowd.
You know this song already, its shape. As familiar as the back of your own hand. As Jay’s lips on yours or his hands under your skirt on the couch at Laughing Kitty. Your stomach plummets to the floor, eyes stinging with tears. Sunghoon comes in slowly on the drums, Heeseung and Jake’s guitars following to make it warm and round and full.
And then, Jay sings, “I don’t have to try to love you, it comes easy to me…”
His demo. Complete. And performed so beautifully. His voice is raw, vulnerable, as he bares his soul for everyone, for you, to hear. Heeseung’s harmonies are simple, sweet, a perfect anchor for the song. They’re amazing. They are actually amazing. All of them.
As the final note rings out, the lights go dim once again, and applause erupts backstage, your friends squealing and hugging each other while you wait. NAPE don’t take long to appear behind the curtain, all four of them a blur of black clothes and adrenaline. Jay doesn’t stop to speak with the crew or with the other guys, he comes straight for you. Short strands of his hair slick with sweat, his glasses fogging up as he pulls you into his arms.
“It was perfect, Jongseong. You were perfect.”
He doesn’t say anything, but you feel him smiling into the crook of your neck as his heart thuds against your chest.
Tearing Jay away from the tour kick-off party is easier than you expected. Largely in part due to the fact that he’s the one dragging you through the crowded flat to his bedroom. Music muffles through his door and as soon as the lock clicks shut, you sink to your knees at his feet and Jay gulps when you look up at him, a gentle look on his face, in his eyes, that makes your heart trip in your chest—that he could look so tenderly at you in this moment seems unreal. Slowly, you unbuckle his belt, unsure who you're teasing more. You undo his zipper. The button.
He cups your cheek with his palm, clearing his throat. "Only if you want to, baby." His voice is soft, delicate as he traces your lips with the pad of his thumb.
You nod. You need to.
Jay's trousers give easily when you pull at them, falling to his ankles. His white underwear stretches over his erection, a dark patch where he leaks onto it. You can't even pretend to resist, tongue finding the spot immediately, and taking his tip between your lips, sucking on it through the wet fabric. Precum seeps into your mouth, the taste of it heady and familiar, leaving you hungry for more.
His hips buck forward, stuffing more of his clothed dick into your mouth, groaning. "My beautiful girl," he mutters, tucking your hair behind your ears. "Still so dirty and all for me, yeah?"
White-hot desperation buzzes along every inch of you. You can't wait any longer. Jay shivers when his leaking tip smacks his stomach, leaving a streak on his toned skin. Oh, my God. When you take him by the base, your hand only just wraps around him, thumb and index finger brushing. "Let me help you, YN." One of his hands covers yours easily, the other holding your head still. "Want my help, don't you, baby?"
All you can do is nod, watching Jay stroke himself—help you to stroke him.
"Say it. Use your words."
"Want you to help me—" Your mind blanks, that five letter word burning on the tip of your tongue. "Jay," you say instead.
His dick twitches in your fist as he brings his slit to your mouth, spreading hot, sticky precum like gloss over your lips. "Good girl," he whispers, thumb tracing your cheekbone. "Always so good for me."
Molten need pools between your thighs. "Only for you," you admit, words muffled against his tip.
Jay's breath hitches, fingers curling in your hair, then, finally, he stuffs your mouth—starts to. At an agonising pace. Inch by torturous inch, he pulls you towards him. Watching with furrowed brows and holding his breath as the stretch starts to ache your jaw. Only when his tip brushes the back of your throat, making you gag, does he let out a breath, a ragged, whiny thing, torn from him. Hearing him like this, being the cause of it, never gets old. Never fails to flip your stomach.
Chest heaving, eyes fluttering shut, he throbs in your mouth when you stroke the part of him that won't fit. "Fuck," he whispers. "Fuck, baby. Too good, need a — fuck — need a minute." He pulls out, looking down at you like he's confused, like he can't make sense of the thick string of spit and precum that attaches your lips to his tip.
Can't make sense of the way you kiss it anyway, lapping up the mess from his slit with your tongue. Every word that follows is a whined curse, his legs shaking as his grip on your hair lets up. Your name comes out of him, a stern mutter that makes you press your thighs together. Even so, you keep going, licking a strip from his tip to his base, thick hair tickling your face when you suck on his balls.
"Shit, YN," he mumbles, watching you with squinting eyes, shivering while you stroke him. "So good, baby."
Kissing your way back up to his tip, you take him in, letting your hollowed cheeks pull him further. He's twitching already, erratic on your tongue, low grunts and shallow breaths coming from him. This time when he says your name, it's gentle, sweet, as he rocks his hips to fuck into your mouth in shuddered strokes. Over and over, he moans for you, the sound of it lighting you up, spurring you on to take him deeper, quicker.
His stomach tenses, thighs shaking until he bucks hard against you, coming straight down your throat, hot and thick, without warning, making you cough. It leaks from the corners of your mouth, rolling down your chin, warm on your chest. Jay moans at the sight, licking his lips while you swallow what you can, still working your fist over him. Bracing against the door behind you, he lets out a cry of your name that drives you mad, loud and unbidden, as he trembles.
When he pulls out, his dick hits his legs with a loud squelch. Spit and cum drip off of him, wetting your thighs and making a mess.
You can hardly catch your breath or wipe your mouth before Jay's kneeling in front of you, pressing his lips to yours. Pressing your body to his. "My sweet, sweet baby," he mumbles, licking into your mouth. Teeth bump teeth. Tongues on tongues. "Way too good to me." He pulls you into his lap, cock wet under you. Something about the feeling of it like this, soft and pressed against your thong, twists your stomach.
Taking him in your fist, you thumb at his slit, and he whimpers. "Need it. You, Jay," you tell him, stroking desperately.
At this point, the wet smack of his mouth on yours can hardly be described as a kiss, but he keeps at it. "I'll give you what you want, I promise," Jay says, pushing your hand away and running his finger over your slit. "But I can't right now." He sounds truly apologetic, distraught and whiny as he presses on your clit.
Relief comes immediately, but it's not enough, when he slips his finger into you and fills you to the knuckle. Still, you chase pleasure, fucking yourself on his thick digit, humming at the stretch of another finger pressing in. "Yes, right now."
Against your mouth, Jay smiles. "Want you ready, yeah? Don't wanna hurt you," he coos, a third finger joining the rest.
"You won't," you whisper. "Please, Jongseong."
On this, he concedes. On not using a condom, however…not so much. Laying you down on the bed, he undresses you before pulling his own shirt off. Now that he's had a beat to collect himself — free from your eager hands — he's hard again, standing up taller than before. His tip not just flushed but angry red and leaking. At the very least, he lets you roll the condom onto him before joining you under the covers and hiking your leg up over his hip.
"You're gonna kill me," he mutters into your neck, pressing himself against you, right between your wet folds. So close yet so far. "Gonna die if you keep this up."
"If you're going to die anyway, you might as well take the condom off," you point out, rocking towards him. "For old time's sake, you know? Last night, two nights ago—the good old days." It was a lack of condoms that led you there, to Jay whispering sweet filth in your ear while he spilled into you.
"Very funny, YN." His breath fans your skin when he chuckles. There's no humour in it, but he throbs between your legs, rolls his hips back to match your rhythm. "Can't keep chancing it." You can hear his resolve fading, his lack of conviction.
"Don't you think I'd look pretty? All nice and full?"
His teeth sink into the crook of your neck, making you cry out. "Don't," he mumbles, soothing the bite mark with his tongue.
"Used to — fuck, Jay — talk about it all the time." You're panting more than you're talking, eyes fluttering shut as your sweat slicked skin slips over his. "Lost your shit when I'd call you da—" He cuts you off with his dick. Finally.
You moan in unison, eyes screwing shut as he thrusts into you, filling you up with one shaky stroke. There's no getting used to the size of Jay. Whether he's fucking you with it or sending a video, it shocks you every time. It's like he's trying to split you in half to make room for himself, thick heat spreading, unbearable, from between your legs out. He doesn't move yet.
"All good, baby? Feels good?" he pants, burying his face into your throat.
You nod into his pillow, gasping for breath, only managing to say, "Uh huh."
A low groan heats your neck when you claw at Jay's back and he pulls almost all the way out before thrusting right back in. "So good for me, YN. Fit so good, baby. Always fit so good." He fucks you with the same strokes each time, even when his breath turns ragged, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. Tip on the burning knot in your stomach, nudging it undone, one deep thrust after the other.
You bury your face in the pillow, biting down on it, as he brings you to your orgasm like this. Finger pressed to your clit, teeth nipping your neck, hips rutting frantically. He fucks you through it, wet and overwhelming, scorching heat tearing through you. The memory foam muffles your mewls and whiny babbles, and he groans when you tug his hair, muttering, oh, my God, over and over, until he finishes with a loud cry of your name, shuddering in and out of you.
Calming down is difficult, but Jay's hand stroking your hair is a comfort. Lips pressing sweet kisses to your jaw and muttering praise into your skin. Again, you find those three words on the tip of your tongue, eight letters eager to make their way out. They don't have a chance, thankfully, because he pulls out slowly, moving just enough to kiss your lips. His tongue brushes yours, wiping your I love you away, taking it for himself, and smiling against you like you actually said it. Like he's saying it back.
Sleepiness overwhelms you, eyelids heavy, lips lazy on Jay's. After you pee, he wipes you clean with a warm towel, kissing your knee while he does. Falling asleep is easy in his arms, with the steady rise and fall of his chest under your head, butterflies swirling in your stomach, and the knowledge that the terrifying and uncertain tomorrow is still hours away.
When you wake up, no music seeps into Jay’s room, no heavy footsteps in the hall. No doors slamming shut, no yelled conversations. The flat is completely still. Even the street outside is quiet through the open window, London’s morning running on silent. Soft cotton kisses your skin, detergent and sweat float around you. Sunlight streaks the wall, slipping through the gaps in the blinds. Jay’s fingers twirl the ends of your hair. His voice, low and gravelly from sleep, asks, “You sleep alright?”
Alright isn’t enough of a word for how well you slept. You’re not even sure if perfect would suffice, but you nod anyway. “Did you?”
“Mm.” He squeezes your shoulder, holding you closer. “Perfect, darling.”
I wish we could just stay here forever, you think. Saying it is another story. “Do you really have to go?” you ask instead, knowing he’ll have to leave soon to make his flight.
You hear the spread of Jay’s lips and see the curve, his perfect teeth, his smile lines and dimple, so perfectly clear behind your closed eyes. His hand is heavy on your arm, his fingertips warm and calloused, dragging senseless patterns into your skin. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he mumbles. “Promise.”
Resting your arms on his chest, you finally get a proper look at him. His hair sticks up in tiny spikes all over his head, pointing this way and that. A smile creeps over his lips, slight and sleepy, but warm all the same. How desperately you want this all to be something, to mean something. Now and when he gets back. The soft look in his eyes, the relaxed lull of his breath, chest rising and falling slowly under you, his hand on your back. How desperately you want this to be something more than simply blowing off steam before he goes on the road.
“What is it, baby? What are you thinking?” Jay asks, using his thumb to smooth out the crease over your brow. His touch is unthinkably gentle, but it ties your stomach in knots.
The words are right there, slipping from your mind and taking their juvenile shape on the tip of your tongue. What are we? It seems absurd to think that he could leave, even if only for a few months, without asking that question—but picturing yourself asking him is worse.
“It’s nothing.”
Jay’s lips curl downwards and the sight tugs at your heart. He kisses the palm of his hand and presses it to your forehead like a stamp, making you giggle, before his fingers find your hair, scratching your scalp. You could fall asleep again, your eyelids weighing more and more with each graze of his nails against your skin. He smiles, finally, he smiles when you lean into his touch.
“You could always come with me,” Jay suggests. “If you want.”
If you were even a little more secure about your place in his life, those three words — if you want — wouldn’t be so jarring. Wouldn’t turn your stomach or make you want to roll your eyes and ask, what the fuck kind of an answer is that?
“What do you want?” you ask instead.
“I want you to do what you want.”
You sigh, a deep breath torn out of you and into the silence.
“What do you want me to say? What am I getting wrong?”
Feeling bad, you shake your head. “Nothing, Jay. It’s nothing, I swear,” you try to assure him, but you can see his thoughts passing through his head. You can’t stand it. Can’t stand to think about whatever comes after this, after he leaves.
You lean up and kiss him to stall the inevitable, warmed by the low sound he makes, by the way he pulls you into his lap. Warmed by the feeling of him under you, hard already. His lips are slow against yours, tongue licking lazily into your mouth and sighing when you roll your hips over his.
“Tell me, baby,” he says, lips barely leaving yours. “Can’t fix it if you don’t tell me.”
When you pull away, his eyes search yours, a million questions written all over his face. His cheek is soft beneath your palm, thumb stroking his skin, and it’s all you can do to hope this won’t be the last time. “Fix what, Jay?” Your voice comes out small, frightened. “What is this?”
Say it, you beg silently. Say you want me. Say that this is everything.
He bites his lips instead. Says nothing.
“Do you still want me?” you ask around the lump in your throat. “Properly?”
Jay’s brows knit together. “I feel like I should be asking you that. I don’t know how else to show you.”
“I can’t go with you, Jay.” Saying it feels final, like you’ve drawn a line under whatever the hell you two have been doing, and he will leave for his tour and come back and this will still be over.
“I didn’t ask you to.”
Before you can help it, your face falls, lips curling downwards, and Jay wraps his fingers around your wrist to keep your hand on his cheek. He jumps to take it back, to fix it, but you’re not sure if he can.
“That’s not what…” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. Can we just… Can we take a second?” His cheeks are flushed, skin rosy and warm under your hand, his eyes wide, pink lips pressed together. “I just need a minute,” he adds softly. “I’ll be right back, yeah, baby?”
You nod and Jay kisses you quick, gentle, before slipping into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. It doesn’t take long for you to make up your mind. To put your clothes on and stuff your bra into your bag, turning your phone off on your way out of the flat.
At home, you get straight into bed, pulling the duvet up to cover you completely.
Twenty-year-old you would be mortified if she could see you now: twenty-three, unemployed, and still worrying about the same problems you had three years ago, about the same guy. Surely by now, having known him all this time, known yourself, you should have seen this coming a mile away.
Sleep comes easily like this, moping under your covers like a kid.
By the time you wake up, it’s well into the afternoon and you turn on your phone to one new notification. A text from Aeri asking you to check if her parcel has come yet. Nothing from anyone else, from Jay. He and the rest of the guys are probably in the security queue, fumbling laptops out of bags and shoes off of feet. Chatty and excited and too busy to spare you a second thought, to send a text—which, maybe, given how you walked out, that’s what you deserve. You’re even now though, you and Jay. And it doesn’t feel good at all.
As if you’d willed it, wished it so much it came to be, your phone vibrates next to you on the mattress. Not a text, an email. It’s from Interview, with the subject line: Offer of Employment.
The smile that breaks over your face is instantaneous and aching, tears welling in your eyes as you read and reread the first line of the email. As you read and reread the whole thing, closing the app and opening it again, waiting for something to change, for a second email to come in saying there’s been a mistake. But no. The word congratulations stays right where it is. A job. An actual job that you get to start in a month when the office renovation is complete. It’s a weight off your chest, a blinding ray of light in the face of countless rejection emails.
When you open the phone app, Jongseong 😽, is right at the top, and it takes your thumb hovering over it to even realise what you’re doing. This week-long instinct, relearned and deep as marrow. I need to call Jay, I need to tell Jay, now your default thought. Again, your default thought.
The silence of the flat feels greater, bed bigger without him in it. As quickly as it came, your delight sours, curdling in the pit of your stomach. Everything you’ve been working towards, the fruit of your efforts finally reaped, and the one person you want to tell all about it, is the one person who’d care the least.
Locking your phone, you press the cool top of it to your forehead and take a deep breath. This is okay. You’re okay. You’re great! You have a job, finally, an actual named and recognised role. And it’s all yours.
Feeling lighter, if only a little, you get up to check the mail room, stuffing your feet back into your boots and pulling the front door open. Jay is there. Here. He looks like he’s run a marathon just to stand on your welcome mat, cap on backwards and his suitcase at his side. Sweat shines on his upper lip, his neck. His eyes are wide, brows raised like he’s surprised to find you here, at your flat, where you live. Nothing comes out when you open your mouth to speak, but your name comes from his in a whisper.
“I can’t go.” His voice cracks when he says it, making him smile. “I couldn’t, we got to the gate and I—I can’t leave if we’re like this. I love you, YN. I do. So much. I’m a coward, okay? I’m a coward and I’m awful at all of this, but I love you.” The words leave him in a rush, and he sighs after like he’s relieved, like the words have been weighing on him all this time. “I know how much I’ve hurt you, and I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’d like to try.”
Your heart races in your chest like it’s trying to burst out, thoughts scattered, too fast to latch onto, to process. You need to say something, you know that much. “I wanted to call you,” you utter, pointing at him as though maybe he doesn’t know to whom you’re referring. “I got the job at Interview.”
To this, he lets out a sound you’ve never heard him make. A half-laugh, half-sob as he takes your pointing hand in his, pulling you in. “Of course you did,” he says, the words a warm mumble against the top of your head. “Fuck, YN, that’s—that’s amazing. You’re amazing.” He holds you so tight you can feel the frantic pounding of his heart against your chest. The frantic pounding of your own heart. For a long moment, you bury your face in his chest, taking it all in. His scent, honey and detergent and sweat. The grounding feel of him, his arms around you, his palm stroking your back, mouth kissing your hair.
Reality, everything he’s just said sinks in, slow and heavy. Jay, here, with you, again. At last. And saying all the right things, saying almost everything you’ve been waiting years to hear. Meaning them. Too good be true surely, the job and now this, and all in a matter of minutes. You pull back, only enough to look at him with your palms flat on his shoulders, and wait. For the other shoe to drop. For Jay to glance at his watch and realise he can still make his flight if he leaves right this second. It doesn’t come. He doesn’t even look over his shoulder, his eyes are stuck on you. Only you.
“What are you—what do you want?”
“I want to be with you, and I want you to want that too. Still, again, whatever, just… you’re it for me,” Jay says decisively. “You’re always going to be it for me.”
Whether he knows it or not, he changes your life with those words. He changes everything. Quiets the years of chaos in your mind and finally, finally calms the storm.
“Yes, Jay. Whatever you’re saying or asking, my answer is yes, okay? I love you, Jay. I love you too, I love you still, all of it.” You tip your chin to kiss his smiling lips, and after all this time, your heart falls back into its natural rhythm.
backshots with your boyfriend after his gym session.
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: park sunghoon x fem!reader
SMUT, reader gets put in a headlock, bicep chocking, backshots, slight dacryphilia if u squint, little bit of finger sucking, reader is so fucking pathetic and horny for hoon (same), not proofread!!
stuffed. that's how you felt right now, completely and utterly stuffed.
you don't quite remember how you got here, on the couch with your back pressed against your boyfriend, one possessive arm snug around your throat while he's absolutely hammering his cock into you.
two random pictures is all it took for you to flood your panties like they were the niagara falls. he knew what he was doing, knew how obsessed you were with the gym pics. he took his sweet time to get home, ignoring the voice messages of you whining about needing him oh so badly. yes, he knew just what to do to get you to the point of breaking, because that's where the fun begins.
the moment he came home you were on him in an instant, hands pulling him close my the neck as you smash your lips on his. it could barely be considered a kiss, rather an act of trying to eat his face.
he chuckles at your enthusiasm, such an eager girl you were.
"what's gotten you so worked up hm?" he feigned innocence.
you're so far gone that all you can do is whine and desperately grind against him.
"hoonie please i need you so fucking bad."
his head tilts slightly as he tuts out a soft "language, baby."
"'m sorry, just need you please hoonie please."
sunghoon couldn't believe the state you were in. yes he had seen you horny for him before but this was desperation. the tears, those were new. and a massive ego boost.
with one quick motion he sweeps you into his arms, caring you over to the couch, the bedroom was too far. you hit the cushions with a soft thud, tear-filled eyes staring up at him.
bending down, his lips ghost over the little exposed spot just above the waistband of your sweats. "that so baby? need me to fuck you real good hm?"
you nod frantically, as your hands tangle in his hair, giving him a not so soft push down to your aching core. he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your hip, as his hand reaches down your panties.
the fabric of your panties was practically stuck to your pussy and sunghoon couldn't suppress the groan that left his lips. "all that for me baby?"
before you could reply, his fingers glided up and down your slick filled folds and your hips bucked. downright pornographic moans left your lips and sunghoon just stared at you in awe for a good second.
removing his hands from your pussy, he levelled with you, finally getting a good look at your already fucked out face. you glance down at his hand, the one that was covered in your slick and before sunghoon could react your lips wrapped around his fingers.
with one slow stroke you separated his fingers in your mouth, tongue swirling around his thick digits.
"fuck, angel." he muttered, feeling his dick twitch at the warm sensation of your mouth. you hum around him, eyes closing as you continue to clean your juices off his fingers.
"good fucking girl." sunghoon breathes, as he frees his cock, not bothering to fully remove his sweats. "gonna fuck you so good now, okay? fucking perfect girl deserves to be fucked right, don't you."
and with that he pushes your panties to the side, entering you with one swift thrust. sunghoon has fucked you before, many times, but he doesn't remember you being this wet at merely the thought of him and it drives him wild.
usually, he'd ease into it, beginning with slow and controlled thrusts, but not today. no, today his hips frantically move, his cock entering you with such force that he has to hold your hips in place. he cannot stop staring down at your entrance, seeing you swallow his length so perfectly every time.
with every thrust you feel him deeper and deeper inside of you and when you glance down to see him bulging your tummy you can't help but bite down on his fingers that were still inside your mouth. he moans at the sudden sharp pain, eyes snapping up back at you. a wicked smile paints his lips as he removed his fingers and presses his mouth against yours.
"naughty naughty girl." he breathes out between kisses. "driving me fucking insane, pussy is made for me, you're fucking made for me baby."
you whine at his words, no longer trusting yourself to speak when he keeps hitting the deepest parts inside of you so deliciously.
just when you thought this couldn't get any more heavenly, he flips you around, pulling your hips back flush against him. for a moment you sure felt like you're about to black out, all air knocked out of your lungs.
"fuck hoon, oh my god." you manage to gasp out and he continues to drill himself back into your cunt. having no stability you reach backwards and he bends down over your back. "hm, what is it sweet girl? i know you can take it."
"close...want you close." and with that he guides you back up with him, back now pressed against his as your head falls back against his shoulder.
his pace didn't slow, matter of fact he even went fast if that were even possible and you grip onto his bicep for dear life, giving him an idea.
"been working on these for you baby. you seem to like them so much so why not put them to use and have even more fun."
before you could process his words he snuck a strong arm around your neck, flexing his muscles and you can't help but let out a moan at the sweet pressure.
"yea? that's what you wanted? wanted me to come and make you tap out?" he hisses, hips now messily snapping upwards. the tight hold of his bicep keeping you in place, but also making you feel dizzy. you feel your head get slightly cloudy, warmth radiating through your body as your head slightly lolls to the side.
"'m sorry baby, was that too much of me? can't help myself, your pussy feels so good, forgive me angel."
you shake your head. "no, 's perfect, you feel so good. 'm getting close hoonie."
a wide smile spreads on his face as he quickly captures your lips before guiding his free hand down. skilled fingers started circling your clit and you clench around him, earning a sharp hiss from him.
"hoonie...so close fuck." voice barely a high pitched squeak.
"i know baby, me too."
a few more merciless thrusts drilled into you and before you know your body went limp as you came around him. he followed mere seconds after, panting into your ear.
for a moment you both just stayed that way. him still inside you, semi-soft, sweat trickling down your bodies, trying to catch your breath.
slowly, he released his hold on your throat and you fill air rush back into your lungs. he had to hold onto you, as you were a mere state of limp muscles, turning into putty in his arms.
"c'mon baby, lay down with me."
you found yourself on top of his chest, his hands playing with the sweaty strands of your hair.
"next time i'm going to the gym with you." you mumble sleepily and he laughs softly.
"we're gonna have so much fun baby."
ʟɪɴ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: these pics have me doing cartwheels holy shit. once again, shoutout to my baby @puppybelles for making me lock in lol i love u 4ever
ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @saeivra @shaiimuraaa @chaebbys (comment or send me an ask if u wanna be added or removed <3)
number 3 on the 100 kisses list - breaking the kiss, your lover instantly pressing their lips back to yours
pairing. heeseung x reader, f2l
word count. 830
notes. i always write heeseung as both a nervous shy loser nerd and a confident flirty hot ass man bc i cannot make up my mind about him... and why decide when you can have both... hope u enjoy!!!
Even with Heeseung’s lips on yours, you’re unsure what this means for the two of you.
You’re here for closure. It’s been weeks of uncertainty, of wondering if, of overanalyzing every gesture, every look, of wait, did he just flirt with me? Almost as soon as you became friends with Heeseung, finding out the cute guy in Intro to Stats was friends with Jake, one of your first year accommodation flatmates, you knew you liked him. How could you not? His heart-fluttering smile, his ice-melting voice, the way he’s the perfect mix of shyness and confidence, it’s like they were all designed specifically to make you fall for him.
You’ve never been ashamed to go after someone you like—but with Heeseung, it’s different. Not only would a rejection make things awkward within your friend group, but no matter which way you look at things, you just can’t figure him out. Over one hang-out, he might blush if you compliment him, then shamelessly look you up-and-down like he’s ready to devour you, then barely look your way for ten minutes.
Does he see you purely as a friend? Do you make him nervous? Is he a horndog that would jump any girl that came his way? To make it worse, Jake is of absolutely no help: “I don’t know, we don’t talk about those things,” he tells you the one time you ask him.
You’ve had one too many sleepless nights of staring up at your ceiling and trying to glean meaning from your interactions, and so you’ve decided to take matters into your own hands. A pint or two at the bar with the girls is the perfect way to get you fired up—with that liquid courage in your hand, you know you’ll be able to get on with your plan even when you meet his gaze. Not needing the added pressure, or the potential embarrassment if things don’t work out, you don’t tell your friends what you’re up to and leave when you’ve reached the right amount of tipsiness—not enough to make a fool of yourself, not too little that you might chicken out.
The pavement underneath your feet is a bit wobbly but you make your way safely to Heeseung’s apartment building. You find the code to his front door and the instructions to get to his place from a message he sent to the group chat, and press his doorbell for three long seconds, just to make sure he hears it.
“Y/N?”
He looks surprised, then confused, then concerned after he opens the door. You just smile up at him, letting yourself in like you live there. Your heart races at the sight of him, but for once, it feels nice. Warm.
“Is everything okay? What are you doing here? Not that I mind, I’m just confused—”
He stops himself when you giggle, swaying as you turn to face him. You cradle his face in your palms. “You’re cute when you ramble, you know that?”
The light in his hallway is dim, but you swear he turns two shades of red. “Wh—what? Did you drink?”
“Heeseung.”
“Yes?” he says immediately.
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Wh—”
You hoist yourself up on your toes and press your lips to his. They’re pillowy, softer than you could’ve ever imagined, but they’re also very still against yours. One, two, three seconds. Then you lean away.
Your blood is pumping like crazy. At least you know how you feel—but the expression on Heeseung’s face is unreadable, unlike anything you’ve seen him wear before. The feeling of his lips on your has sobered you up, and you’re ready to apologize and call this plan a failure when he leans down, capturing your lips once more.
He gives you no time to be surprised. It’s a real kiss, this time around. His lips are anything but still, moving against yours with an impatience, a possessiveness that you wouldn’t have guessed from him, but that makes your body burn with desire. It’s the kiss of someone who finally has the thing they’ve been craving for months, but have been holding back from. Your lips answer to his easily, like second nature.
Soon, your hands are in his hair, and his are on your shoulders, shedding off your coat. You’re both breathing hard when he pulls back. He smiles sheepishly as if he wasn’t eating half of your face off a second prior. Who knew the guy who spends his free time playing League and building Legos had it in him?
“If you’re going to show up here and kiss me, at least do it properly,” he teases. Your only comeback is to press your lips to his again, with more hunger, more ferociousness, and show him who’s boss.
Hands on your waist, lips never leaving yours, he guides you to his bedroom. By the time he’s done with you, you won’t have a doubt as to whether he likes you or not.
