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[faesficfix]

OPERATION RIZZ - NA JAEMIN

Navi - M.list

Pairing: Na Jaemin x fem!reader (Ft. Yangyang, Haechan, Johnny, Jeno, and mentions of other nct members, nct dream are the friend group, the Jeno and his girlfriend mentioned are the same pairings from Quiet and Game over!)

Genre: Fluff, angst, humor, college au nct,

Synopsis: In an attempt to teach Donghyuck how to get a girlfriend, Jaemin helps him make a list only... that list seems awfully familiar.

wc: 7.8k ( my longest fic yet, I have perished.)

warnings: reference to the sexual activity that happened in Game Over between Jeno and his girlfriend, Mentions of smoking a joint at a frat party but no detailed usage and not by the two mc, Alcohol, Drunk reader, swearing, cringe pick up lines, reader, and Jaemin play the horror game 'the quarry' but no spoilers, timeline jumps a bit but I'm certain it's still understandable, mentions of harsh pranks being pulled by readers previous roommates, hints at previous roommates being bullies to the reader.

A/N: Hi, my lovelies. This fic was a wild ride, I'm telling you. I'm still not satisfied with the header but we move ig. This took me five-ish days I think, mainly cause I left it for at least three of those. I honestly hope you love this as much as I do. If I have missed any warnings please let me know! @sexygrass you asked me to tag you in the finished product! here you are,

Feel free to send me asks to talk about the fic, I love talking about fic characters.

Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

It was a funny thing to watch Donghyuck fail miserably. It was even funnier to watch the brightly colored cocktail drip from the ends of his hair, soaking into his pristine white t-shirt. To Jaemin, it was the best entertainment in the world to watch his friend flirt terribly. There was a reason Jisung called him bitchless. Not to doom any potential girl Donghyuck could end up with, but the guy was just a walking beacon of cringe pickup lines.

Like tonight. Jaemin had watched from his spot perched on a barstool a few seats away as his friend confidently walked up to the bar. He’d internally winced as Donghyuck had added his own drink to the girl’s tab and he’d tried so hard to still his facial features when the said drink was promptly tipped over his head following the line he gave. “You owe me a drink, I dropped mine when I looked at you.”

It was safe to say that the man crashed, burned, and disintegrated. Jaemin couldn’t hold his laughter for long, barely able to set his drink down on the bar without spilling it before the howls of laughter racked through his body. He felt a hand slap down on his shoulder, the sounds of Yangyang’s own hysterical laughter hitting his ears.

“It’s not funny! Look at my shirt!” Donghyuck growled in annoyance, fingers plucking the wet material away from his skin. “I’m going to clean up...”

The man moved to brush past his two friends, Yangyang stilling his laughter long enough to reach out and grasp his sleeve. “I wouldn’t, Restrooms occupied.” He straightened from his hunched-over position, his voice strained from holding in further laughter. “Think Jeno’s trying to one-up over Jaehyun, dragged his girl in there and locked the door about twenty minutes or so ago.”

“For fuck sake!” He whined, foot kicking at a leg of Jaemin’s bar stool.

Jaemin stood, finally able to keep his laughter at bay. “What did you expect? He literally dragged us here in a fit of jealous rage.” He scoffed light-heartedly, slinging an arm over Donghyuck’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s just go home - Yang, you crashing at Hyuck’s too?” Jaemin craned his neck to catch his fellow 00’ liner’s answer.

Yangyang shrugged in acceptance of the offer, slinging his own arm over Hyuck’s other shoulder.

“So,” Hyuck began, pausing to slurp some of his McDonald’s strawberry milkshake through the disintegrating paper straw. “You’re telling me that my lines don’t work at all?”

Yangyang and Jaemin gave a pointed look to each other, almost as if trying to decide who should be the bearer of bad news. Jaemin gave a slight sigh, his mouth poised ready to talk but his brain still trying to come up with an answer.

“It’s just … You’ve got no rizz” He let the statement hang in the air, chewing into his cheek as Donghyuck blanched at the blunt statement.

“And you have?” He jeered in defense, chuckling in amusement.

“Dude, he’s the rizzler.” Yangyang piped in, the amused grin on his face broadening. “Jaemin’s got effortless rizz and he doesn’t even try.”

Jaemin was startled when his friend threw himself over his lap with a drawn-out dramatic cry. “Then help me!” He pleaded, loosely gripping Jaemin’s collar to shake him.

“Christ! Okay, Okay!” He gave in pretty quickly, shoving Donghyuck off of him with a little effort.

Jaemin shook his head at Hyuck’s antics, Yangyang laughing along with him. No words were spoken for a few moments until the latter made an announcement.

“Let Operation Rizz commence.”

Over the course of the next ten minutes, the two made Donghyuck write down his own step-by-step guide how to get a date.

Jaemin plucked the notepad from his friends' fingers, reading through them with a grimace of distaste.

"Step one is wink?" He read off in disbelief, nearly choking on air when he read step two. "Flirt with her best friend. Are you insane?"

He snatched the pen from Hyuck, ripping the list out of the book and scrunching it Into a ball.”We’ll rewrite it.”

"That's what the Buzzfeed article said to do!" That comment alone earned him a paper ball to the head.

"You need to practice and observe." Yangyang was right, it would be handy to have an actual female to be a 'test subject' as it were.

"But who? The only girls Hyuck know hate him and the only girl I kno–" Jaemin's words stopped dead as he caught onto what his friend was hinting at. "Absolutely not. ____, would never agree to this."

At least Jaemin hoped his roommate would be repulsed enough by the idea to call him crazy and move on.

The thing is, Jaemin had been a little selfish when it came to you. He had very rarely invited you to hang with any of his friends, not that he had to — you were purely roommates who had the same computer science class. That was how you met him. Jaemin had rocked up to class, late and unbothered. It was you who caught onto his small tales of anxiety when he struggled to catch up, wordlessly sliding your notes on the previous few slides onto his desk.

STEP ONE: BEFRIEND

After the lesson had ended and various students began to pile out of the door, you slowly started to pack up your things. A throat being cleared gained your attention, Jaemin looking at you sheepishly, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Thanks for that." A smile of chagrin directed toward you. “I thought I could catch up but Mr. Kim just goes so fast.”

You chuckled, pinching your notes from the table to put them in your bag, zipping it up, and turning toward your classmate. “Next time, don’t be late.” Jaemin was drawn to the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you granted him a grin. “It’s my turn to be late next class.”

True to your word, at 8:45 am the following Thursday, you snuck into the back of the class. You looked disheveled and half-dead to your fellow classmates. You didn’t want the unwanted attention that was sure to be drawn to you if you scrambled down to a vacant seat at the front, instead, you slipped into the closest empty seat on the back row.

You tried to make as minimal noise as possible when taking your things out of your backpack and you were so preoccupied with the action that you almost jumped when a few sheets of paper were slipped wordlessly onto your desk from the seat next to you.

The two of you fell into an unspoken routine this way. Jaemin would take notes for you to copy if you were late and vice versa, an unspoken rule being you took turns being late. For you, this wasn’t a problem. You were rarely late, something Jaemin noticed when he was hurriedly yanking on his jeans in an attempt to leave on time. He had secretly cursed you at that moment. Jaemin couldn’t be late, it wasn’t his turn and the rule was unspoken.

The next time you were late, you were very late. Jaemin had honestly thought you weren’t coming, his eyeline drifted to the door on multiple occasions. An odd feeling of disappointment settled in his chest. You had become the highlight of his day, Jaemin found himself looking forward to his computer science classes for once.

When you did finally turn up and slip into the seat next to him, he noticed you didn’t even make a move to remove your things from your backpack. You just stared straight ahead, hair drenched from the horrible weather outside and unshed tears pooling at your waterline.

One look at you and Jaemin’s teasing expression faded. He set his pen down, angling his body toward your seat. “Are you okay?” Jaemin almost slapped himself, it was obvious you weren’t.

You raised the damp sleeve of your sweater to wipe at your face, “Sorry I’m late, Jaemin.” Your voice was raw and croaky, he was sure you were going to get sick. “I slept in my car.”

The male blanched, eyebrows shooting to his hairline. Jaemin was sensitive enough to keep his voice low and careful, trying to coax the answers to his many questions from you. “Why, What happened?”

You sniffled quietly, fighting the urge to curl into yourself and hide. “My housemates locked me out again.” Jaemin’s expression softened, his hand reaching over to tuck your wet hair behind your ear. “Then my car broke down on the way to campus.”

Jaemin had heard about how your housemates were. You’d ranted to him in many lessons about what they were like. The only reason you were all housed together was through the private landlord student accommodation scheme set up for students who didn’t want the dormitory life.

He knew full well that it was a popular-eat-nerd food chain out there and he was grateful his grandma paid his rent for him - Always grandma’s favorite boy. It only took a few more of those incidents for Jaemin to offer his precious games room. He proposed a very convincing argument.

“Look, It’s a steal!” He exclaimed, “No rent and we just split the rest of the utilities and grocery costs, your own room, closer to campus, and me!” Jaemin flashed you his pearly whites at his winning argument.

“I can’t just take up your space like that, Jaemin.” You sighed, as much of an amazing offer it was… You didn’t want it out of pity.

“We’ll probably barely see each other! We can split the chores and work something out.”

It was safe to say you ended up caving into the offer. Any college student would snatch up the deal of accommodation with no rental costs.

Jaemin sat open-mouthed as you bobbed your head in agreement with the idea. “Hm, Yang’s right. I’m the only girl you know that won’t get violent when Hyuck acts like a douche.” You sat back in your chair, swiping Jaemin’s iced coffee from the table and taking a sip through the straw.

“I’m sorry, what?” He spluttered, “Hyuck gets attached, clingy. What if he likes you?” Jaemin’s worries were irrelevant to everyone else but him.

Jaemin didn’t like the idea of Donghyuck catching feelings but he supposed he may be acting on possessive instinct. He shook his head, avoiding the look Yangyang was giving him. It was like the guy was trying to analyze his expressions and read his mind. He felt momentarily exposed.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” You snickered, “Donghyuck, sit.”

Hyuck brushed off his barista apron, shoving his order pad into one of the large pockets in the front as he sat at the vacant chair at the table. You sat up from your slouched position in your chair, sliding Jaemin’s coffee back over to him - the cup being halfway empty by now.

“Show me what you got.” You tapped the table with your hand.

You, Jaemin, and Yangyang watched as Hyuck ran a hand through his hair, his left eye dropping into a wink that could only be described as cringe when he leaned forward toward you. “Are you a transformer?” He paused a moment, long enough to give an over-exaggerated lip bite, his flirty gaze running up and down your torso. “ ‘Cause you’re Optimus fin-” His confidence was harshly broken as you mocked the sound of a loud buzzer.

“Pickup lines don’t work anymore, Dude.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “That was- …. I don’t actually have words for how bad that truly was.” Donghyuck’s face fell.

“Technically, we’re skipping step one because you already kind of know ____. So, step one is ‘befriend’. If she was a stranger you’d have just failed miserably.” Jaemin said to his friend, lifting his coffee to inspect the cup of the missing liquid.

“Alright, What’s step two?” Hyuck shrugged, looking expectantly at his friends.

STEP TWO: GET TO KNOW

Back when you had first moved in with Jaemin, the two of you were more than awkward. It felt odd for each of you to see each other in your most vulnerable states. At home. In class things were different, that was a side of you that prepared to go out and face the day, a social mask slipping in place.

It took just one instance to get over the hurdle of timidness between you both. One Saturday, Jaemin had just gotten back with the groceries, the list crumpled in one of the bags he was hefting. You were leaning against the breakfast bar in the kitchen, a mug of coffee - specifically a Chocolate Mocha from a sachet - cupped in your hands.

Once all of the bags were strewn over the kitchen counter and the floor surrounding the fridge, you set your mug in the sink and began helping.

“Oh, no way!” You gasped, holding up the box of frozen desserts. “Two-ball-screwballs?” Jaemin looked up from shoving frozen food into the freezer drawers, a surprised smile on his face.

“Yeah! My mom used to get them for me every Friday after school.” He shut the drawer he was working on.

“I thought they were discontinued!” You gushed, tearing open the box and removing the cone-shaped cup. “I love these.”

Jaemin’s shoulders perked, his eyes brightening. “You’re kidding! My friends think they’re low tier.” He took the box from you, removing one of the plastic cones for himself and putting the rest into the freezer to save them from melting.

“Low tier? Your friends are low tier.” You scoffed jokingly, peeling off the top.

Jaemin rose to his feet, accepting the teaspoon you offered to him. “I’ll pay you ten to say that to Chenle’s face.” He chuckled, diving his spoon into the red cherry slush.

“What other gems are you hiding?” You questioned, spoon hanging from your mouth as you began to finish off the groceries with your free hand.

“Depends, do you like video games?” Jaemin lifted himself to perch on the breakfast bar.

“I like watching people play them,” You cast a glance back at your roommate. “I don’t have the hand-eye coordination for them.”

Jaemin hummed in thought, his gaze locked onto the dessert in his hand. “If I set up in the living room, do you wanna, maybe, watch me play?” He offered, discreetly peering up at you without lifting his head.

He watched you ponder over the idea a moment before nodding, “Sure.”

That night, you and Jaemin settled onto the couch with the controller firmly in his hand. You stared at the opening game screen ‘The Quarry’ glitching back at you. Jaemin had promised you that this wasn’t so much of a fast-paced game and more of a multiple choice.

“It’s a horror game-” He caught the look of unease on your face. “But it’s not that bad! It’s like a movie but you choose what happens and each option you choose alters the game path. It’s really cool!” The look on his face, as he describes one of his favorite games, will forever be your favorite expression on him.

His eyes light with excitement, and the controller drops to his lap as he uses elaborate hand gestures to explain the concept to you. There’s a feeling deep down that you want him to look like that whilst talking about you. But, that’s stupid, right? You’d only known him a few months at that point.

“Can you turn the subtitles on? I can’t hear a thing without them.” You nudged him with your elbow, prompting Jaemin to stare at you in amusement.

“If I wanted to read a book, I would.” He quipped, still navigating the settings to turn them on for you regardless.

You were only on the first chapter of the game and somehow you’d ended up scrunched up into Jaemin’s side, all awkwardness from before long gone. “No no! Don’t go down there, That’s just stupid!” You shouted, peeking up from his shoulder.

“____,” Jaemin laughed, “We have to, it’s the gameplay. We gotta follow Max into the cellar.” A hand left his controller to pat the top of your head.

You were both late for class the next day.

“Get to know them? How long will this take?” Donghyuck complained, a pout playing at his lips.

He wasn’t a patient man and quite honestly, this was taking longer than he had thought. You cast him a sharp look. “Hyuck, you said you wanted a girlfriend. A lot of work goes into the buildup.”

“Can’t you just date me and then I don’t have to get to know anyone?” He huffed, letting his forehead drop to the table.

His question earned him two abrupt shouts of “No!” Both Yangyang and you exchanged slightly shocked looks at how quickly Jaemin said it along with you.

“Ugh! Fine, so, I get to know them.” Donghyuck lifted his head. “Do I have to ask questions?”

A mumbled ‘He’s hopeless’ under your breath had you receiving two kicks under the table as Jaemin responded to the question. “Yeah, Ask about her hobbies, and family, know the basics, and find a niche to get into deeper conversation.”

“Noted. So, find things in common, then?” Hyuck voiced the question with slight uncertainty.

You grinned, tapping his arm to reward him. “Yeah, exactly!” You studied him a moment, face scrunched in thought. “Say… Hyuck, is there someone in specific you’ve got your eye on?” You questioned.

Hyuck laughed nervously, the three sets of eyes staring at him intently making him slightly nervous. See, Donghyuck always had an obvious tell when he was hiding something. First, eye contact became nonexistent. Then, he would over-blink, his friends joked that he’d take off if he blinked too fast. Lastly, the incoherent defense. Hyuck was doing all of those things.

“Do we need to teach you to lie as well?” Yangyang teased, jabbing his friend in the side.

“Speak for yourself, I don’t lie.” You spoke, pretending to inspect your nails until Jaemin’s snort of laughter cut across the table to you.

“Yeah, right. ____, who ate the last two-ball screwball?” He quipped, an eyebrow raised in challenge at you.

“Uhm, Luna.” It wasn’t Jaemin’s cat.

STEP THREE: GESTURES OF KINDNESS

It was rare for you to go out with your friends. It was rare for you to get drunk, too. You had declined an invitation to the neo-frat party for months, much to the disappointment of your friend. It was after four months of living with Jaemin that you found out he was going, only then did you finally accept the next invitation you received.

You’d spent all afternoon following your friends around the shopping plaza to find the right outfit. Your outfit was at your friends' house, you didn’t see the need to overdress for drinking in a stuffy frat house full of sweaty college kids.

The first glimpse of you Jaemin had caught that day was an hour into the party, the frat house in full swing. He’d been roped in to help set up, his friend Mark being a part of it and Hyuck being heavily involved. Jaemin had been looking for you all night and when he finally caught you, you were talking to Johnny.

Jaemin felt unsettled, though he had no choice who you spoke to. He kept glancing at you, hand gripping the solo cup tighter in his hand the more you laughed at Johnny’s jokes. You’d been drinking, that much was clear. Your cheeks a rosy red and your eyes slightly glazed with intoxication, Jaemin had caught onto how you swayed subtly on the spot, your hand gestures over-exaggerated, and your giggles that seemed to happen at everything Johnny said.

Jaemin’s gaze tore away from you when a hand waved in front of his face, his mind catching up with reality when he saw his best friend. “Jeno, sorry, didn’t hear you.”

Jeno gave his friend a knowing look, shaking his head. “You were staring, if you like her then tell her.” He shrugged, lifting his beer bottle to his lips to take a swig.

Jaemin frowned, his eyeline drawn to you once more as he shook his head. “It’s a bad idea, we live together.” As much as he hated to admit it, Jaemin wondered if inviting you to live with him was a mistake for this reason. “It’d be awkward if it didn’t work out, Jen.”

It’d taken Jaemin only one month of living with you to come to the conclusion that he was slowly becoming head over heels infatuated with you. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was love yet, but Jaemin knew you made him feel things that were an entirely new experience.

“If you’re so headstrong on it, make me a bet.” Jaemin’s attention was stolen away from you once more, his eyebrows scrunched in an expression that told Jeno that he wasn’t really listening at all. “If you end up dating by… let's say, the end of the academic year, then you have to get a tattoo.”

Jaemin gulped slightly, he wasn’t a fan of needles. But he was so sure he would be able to resist you. “Fine, if we don’t, you’ve got to get one. In a place of my choosing.” Jaemin mastered a grin, shaking Jeno’s hand to seal the deal.

When Jaemin turned back around, you or Johnny were nowhere to be seen. His mind’s implication of what it meant had his heart dropping into his stomach. He bitterly shook his head, downing the rest of the ‘special punch’ in his cup.

Jaemin went on with the party, utterly miserable at the thought of you holed up in one of the various upstairs bedrooms with Johnny. Of all people. You had to choose the biggest player out there. It was almost like Jaemin was walking around with his own cloud of self-loathing thundering over his head.

He’d thrown himself onto one of the lawn chairs that surrounded the outdoor pool, running a hand over his face. However, he soon froze when he spotted Johnny. The frat member was with Jaehyun and the frat leader, Taeyong. Jaemin noticed the absence of you immediately and it had him springing up from his seat with a slight stumble. Jaemin wasn’t drunk, he was just bordering the line between tipsy and lightly mellow.

Jaemin tapped urgently on Johnny’s shoulder, the older male turning to him with a doped-up smile. Johnny removed the joint from his mouth, offering it out to Jaemin with a hazed blink. “Where’s ____?” Was his immediate response.

Confusion clouded the elder's face for a moment before he laughed loudly. “Man, she’s wasted!” Jaemin gritted his teeth as a bout of smoke wafted in front of his face.

“Yeah, good to know.” He rushed out in exasperation. “Where?” Johnny’s smile dropped as he shrugged.

“Last I knew, she was asleep on the stairs.” Jaemin didn’t wait for any further explanation, bolting it back inside the house and to the sweeping staircase near the front door.

Sure enough, that’s where he found you. Your lips set into an adorable pout from where your head had hung in your slumber. Jaemin was certain that your neck would hurt in the morning if he didn’t take you home. Though, looking at you… Jaemin couldn’t fight the fond chuckle escaping him.

He knelt down at the bottom step, lifting his hand to gently sweep your hair back. His lips pursed as he took in the state of you, fingers tugging your t-shirt dress down your thighs from where it had risen in an attempt to shield your modesty. He squeezed your knee.

“____,” He called to you gently, a hand on your shoulder to lightly shake you awake. “____, c’mon. I’m taking you home.”

A groan left your closed lips, your body attempting to twist to the side as if you were casually rolling over in the comfort of your bed. Jaemin wouldn’t let you, firmly shaking your shoulder again. He sighed in relief when your eyes finally opened, squinting at the light.

“There she is.” He grinned, both hands moving to your cheeks to steady your lolling head.

Jaemin honestly couldn't help but grin in return for the drunk smile you gave him. It was like you were suddenly sprung with energy. “Jaemin!” You launched forward, both arms wrapping tight around his neck.

His hands had to settle on your back to stop you both from toppling over. Your roommate coaxed you to stand, brushing down the crumbs and dirt from your dress. Jaemin made you lean on the wall as he unzipped his hoodie and tied it around your waist.

“Okay, I need you to hold onto my neck… but not strangle me. You got that, ____?” He spoke slowly as if talking to a child because Jaemin had come to realize that’s exactly how drunk you were.

He left you on the second step, crouching down and patting his shoulder. It was embarrassing how many attempts it took to get you securely on Jaemin’s back but eventually, you succeeded in the climb.

The man carried you all the way across the campus and into the blocks of student housing like this. The whole way you were singing at the top of your lungs, Jaemin even joined in when you started singing Twice’s Fancy. He noted you got quieter at the end of your street and when your light snore hit his ear, he knew the reason why.

There was a struggle for him to unlock the front door with you still on Jaemin’s back. Trying not to let the three cats escape was an even bigger feat that Jaemin managed. He also managed to get you off his back, setting you down on your bed. Your shoelaces were already half undone in a loose tangle, Jaemin not having to work very hard to get your shoes and socks off your feet.

The brown-eyed man looked frantically around your room, spotting the cotton pads and micellar water on your desk. Gentle strokes of the cotton pad across your skin removed the smeared makeup on your face. Jaemin was amazed you didn’t wake up, especially when he got to your eyes.

His fingers lingered on your face, a sad smile gracing his lips. “I wish things were different, ____.” Jaemin shook his head with a sigh, dropping the used cotton pads into your trash can and setting them next to your bed.

With a glass of water and some Advil at your bedside, Jaemin gave into temptation and pressed a light, lingering kiss to the top of your head before tucking you in and parting from your bedroom.

“Acts of kindness?” Donghyuck echoed. “If I help her out at the library, does that count?”

“She works at the library?” Your mouth was covered by Donghyuck's palm.

“Don’t announce it to the whole coffee shop, ____!” He hissed, yanking his hand away and shaking it out when he felt something slimy brush across his palm. “Okay, ew.”

“Hm, that’d work, try something a little more meaningful though, Hyuck” Yangyang suggested as he stood, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “I gotta go, botany class starts soon.”

The three of you echoed your goodbyes, turning back to the list on the table once your retreating friend was out of sight.

“So, your crush is one of the librarians?” Jaemin questioned, his face shriveling at his next thought. “Do not sit here and tell me that it’s Mrs. Choi...”

“Gross! No, she has warts on warts.” Hyuck shivered at the very thought of it. “She’s our age.”

Donghyuck could practically see the wheels turning in both of your brains as the two of you tried to work it out. He could also guess when yours and Jaemin’s thought waves seemed to of aligned. He found it slightly freaky how you seemed to have a full conversation with just a look.

“Oh, her.” You nodded your head in approval. “Good choice, Hyuck. She’s a friend of mine, really shy.” You hummed.

“You’re not gonna put in a good word for me, even if I ask… are you?” The man’s shoulders deflated as you shook your head.

“Alright then… What’s after the acts of kindness?”

STEP FOUR: COMPLIMENT TASTEFULLY

Jaemin remembers clearly the day he thought his heart jumped out of his throat and threw itself into the lake.

It was one of the rare occasions that he had invited you to hang out where his friends were - He wouldn’t admit but the only reason he did was that Jeno’s girlfriend was begging at his feet not to be the only girl. So, Jaemin invited you.

His eyes widened at the arctic sleeping bag you pulled from the trunk of your car. “Where did you get that?”

You gave a nonchalant shrug, “What do you think I used when I used to sleep in my car? Takeout wrappers?” His mouth snapped shut as you unzipped the door to your one-person tent, flinging the sleeping bag inside to deal with later. It was only when you had zipped your tent back up did you turn to him again. “Thanks for building the tent for me.” You beamed at him, your hand patting his shoulder in thanks.

“Thanks for driving all our stuff down here. I didn’t realize we had so much.” He glanced around at the half-set-up camp circle. “I should go and help Jisung-ie.”

The two of you went around separately, helping the group set things up, and come nightfall, the nine of you were crowded around the campfire. Jaemin wasn’t listening too much, the brunette was too preoccupied with the way your eyes shone in the moonlight and how the flame from the fire gave your skin a breath-taking glow. He nudged your side with his elbow subtly.

Jaemin was going to compliment you, he was going to tell you how beautiful you looked out there with nature but the words died on his tongue when you looked at him with your showstopping smile. All he could do was nudge the bag of marshmallows toward you.

There was a multitude of reasons why Jaemin couldn't tell you and reason number one was sat across from you both, staring at him with a pointed look across the dancing heat of the fire. Lee Jeno. Jaemin’s best friend nodded his head firmly in your direction, rolling his eyes when Jaemin just shook his head and broke eye contact.

The whole of the three days camping, Jaemin hadn’t had a minute alone with you. Not even on the drive back, with the other car full - Chenle had borrowed his mom’s six-seater - that left three people, including yourself, in your car. So, you, Jaemin, Renjun, and the luggage were in your little two-door car.

The both of you were relieved when you finally arrived home. As much as Renjun was the best company for a two-hour drive, all he did was complain about how little Donghyuck and Chenle helped pack away. It was nice to just have silence.

You had time for a shower and a nap and Jaemin had time to go through the plethora of photographs he took on the trip. He hadn’t realized he took so many, mostly of you. Jaemin stopped on one he took of you by the lake. You were posed beautifully, unaware of the camera pointed toward you. Your smile beaming, the way the sun encased you made you look almost ethereal. Your arm was lifted, eyes locked in fascination on a baby blue butterfly that landed on your index finger.

That was Jaemin’s favorite by far. He had no idea how long he had been staring at the image on his camera, nearly jumping out of his skin when your voice sounded close to his ear. You’d leaned over the back of the couch to take a look.

“Oh, I didn’t know you even took that.” You marveled.

“Hm, It’s one of my favorites.” He murmured quietly, glancing up to watch as you climbed over the back of the piece of furniture to sit next to him.

“The sun makes me look so cool!” You leaned further over, looking at the image in more detail.

Jaemin shook his head, handing the camera over to you. “Nah, You always look that pretty.” He’d said the sentence without thinking.

A light blush coated the apples of your cheeks. Jaemin hadn’t complimented you like this before, no matter how many times you’d longed to hear something like this from your roommate. Your heart was doing somersaults in your chest. You wondered for a moment if he meant it but when Jaemin didn’t comment any further on the matter you decided not to ask.

“Oh.” You had no idea what to say in response and Jaemin thought your newfound shyness at his compliment was well worth the slip-up.

From then on, Jaemin made sure to give you subtle compliments every so often. Taking personal satisfaction in the color of your cheeks and the shy smiles that would occur.

“And remember, Hyuck. No pickup lines.” Jaemin spoke slowly, hoping that it would get through his friend's head.

Donghyuck hummed in thought before eventually nodding in defeat. “No pickup lines. Not even one.”

Jaemin looked almost proud, giving his friend a light fist bump. “Go through the steps, I need to know you aren’t going to mess this up.”

Hyuck sighed, lifting the list to read out the steps so far. Both you and Jaemin sitting opposite him in anticipation. “Alright, Step one is befriending.” He thought a moment. “So, like, make a connection so we aren’t strangers?” He trailed off on a question, looking to your faces for confirmation.

If your grins were anything to go by, he was doing fine. “Step two is Get to Know.” He took a sip of his coffee, writing a few notes next to the bullet point. “Like, find out her hobbies, places she likes, TV shows, music, food, and maybe things about her family. That sort of thing.” He sounded confident enough with step two that you or Jaemin didn’t make a single comment.

Donghyuck cleared his throat, pausing on step three. “Gestures of kindness?” His confidence wavered. “Can’t we skip any steps?”

“No, No skipping, You got this, Hyuck. Think about it.” Jaemin was awed at the way you gently encouraged his friend. Jaemin and the rest of his friend group usually took the harsher approach, teasing him to no end.

“Alright,” Donghyuck looked visibly in thought for a moment. “Like offering her a ride home or… or staying behind to help her organize the shelves at the library?”

Jaemin hummed, nodding. “Yeah, if you can work out something more solid that would mean more to her then try that. Otherwise, I think that would work. Or bringing her lunch, If you know what she likes.”

“Got it,” Donghyuck scribbled down more notes. “Step four is Compliment Tastefully.” He looked back and forth between you two. “No pickup lines. But, natural?” He tilted his head at the question.

“Yep, Girls love to hear small compliments. About anything.” You offered, “How we’ve painted our nails? Our hair?” You listed off things for him to jot down on the paper, ending with; “Little and often.”

“Thanks, is that it?” Hyuck glanced down at his notepad again, a frown on his face. “None of this includes actually getting the title of boyfriend.”

“No, there are two more steps. The next thing is..”

STEP FIVE: INVITE OUT ( NOT A DATE )

Jaemin fought tooth and nail for these tickets. He had no idea how much they were going to cost nor how many people were biting to attend the event. He remembers when you scrolled through a TikTok of the exact same event but in Paris, beneath the Eiffel Tower.

The way your face lit up when you shoved the phone in his face, rambling about how cool it was. So, when Jaemin caught wind of there being an outdoor cinema on the hill hosted at your very own University campus over the break, he just had to get you there.

But, how would Jaemin get you there without you thinking that he went through so much trouble just to get you a ticket? He thought of telling you that he found them on the ground but that would be ridiculous. There was no way you’d believe that.

Jaemin thought about it the upcoming week of the event, until the day before. You’d entered the apartment, slamming the door behind you much harsher than Jaemin was used to. His head peeked up from over the back of the couch.

“____?” He was met with angry grumbling, and the thudding of your shoes being dropped onto the floor after taking them off. “You okay?”

“Why do people have to be the way that they are?” Your sudden question stunned him for a moment, Jaemin meekly shrugged.

“Good afternoon to you, as well.” He chuckled softly, rising from the couch and rounding the half wall to the kitchen. Already on autopilot to make you a drink.

“I tried to get tickets for Grease In The Park.” Jaemin froze with his hand mid-way in grabbing a glass from the shelf.

“Oh? Really? How did that go?” He cleared his throat to try and curb the nervous waver in his voice.

He glanced over into the living room, seeing you throw yourself onto the couch with a defeated frown on your face. “Someone said they were selling theirs, so I paid way more than I should have for them and they were fake!” You had every right to be pissed, you wasted money that you could be using for gas and next month's car insurance.

Jaemin visibly relaxed out of your eyeline, filling the glass with soda and walking back to set it on the coffee table in front of you. You peered up at his bright, toothy smile, your frown deepening when he laughed softly.

“I don’t see how this is funny, Jaemin.” You grumbled, your foot jutting out to hit the back of his knee. Jaemin only nudged your legs back to perch on the edge of the couch, fingers tugging open one of the drawers in the wooden coffee table.

He produced to you an envelope, raising an eyebrow as he waved it in front of you. “Just go with me.” He stated simply, “Jeno’s now going with his girlfriend. I got a spare ticket.”

He’d never seen you move so fast, snatching the envelope from his hands to peer inside. “Holy shit! You’re not joking? These are real?” You gasped, catching the holographic authenticity sticker on the tickets. “Jaemin, Oh my god!”

Jaemin let out a grunt as he was tackled by you, his back bracing his fall against the cushions. Jaemin stilled for only a moment until he relaxed, his arms winding around your back to gently pat along your spine. “Is that a yes?”

It was and the very next day you were flattening out a picnic blanket under a blossom tree on the hill. The perfect spot to get the best view. If anybody stood up, it wouldn't obstruct your view and it was perfect. You’d insisted that you and Jaemin pack a cooler of snacks and some sandwiches, and much to his surprise you’d packed a Two-ball Screwball each.

Jaemin honestly couldn’t recall the plot of the movie, you were amazed he had never seen Grease before. Even after watching it underneath the blossom tree in the greenery behind the University's main building, Jaemin couldn’t recite the storyline. All Jaemin could remember was watching you with stars in your eyes as you belted out the lyrics to nearly every song.

As the fading notes to You’re The One That I Want got quieter, you turned to him. Jaemin loved you like this, unapologetically you. Cheeks red from the excitement and singing, eyes wide and wondrous in the nature's air. And then you floored him, leaning over to press a meaningful kiss to his cheek.

His lips parted in surprise, his own giddy smile widening as you pulled back an inch to look at him. “Thanks, Jaemin.” You whispered between you. “This has been the best movie theatre experience ever.” and with that, you tugged the spare blanket around the both of you, naturally hugging into Jaemin’s side.

Jaemin complained before about the effort to get the tickets but in that moment he vowed that he would do it again ten times over just to relive this moment.

“You’ve got to make it sentimental. Somewhere she’s always wanted to go but don’t overdo it.” Jaemin pointed at Hyuck in a warning.

“Don’t overdo it? How much do you think this place pays me?” He snorted, gesturing to the coffee shop the three of them had been sitting in since Hyuck’s shift ended two hours ago.

“They’d probably pay you more if you did your job and stopped giving us free coffee.” You shrugged, poking at Donghyuck’s shoulder.

“I’m not even on shift right now!” Donghyuck protested, slapping his hand down on the table. “Do you really want me to start charging you for coffee?”

Jaemin’s lips tugged into a fond smile, letting his friends argue as he slid the paper and pen back toward himself to write the final two steps. He stared at it for a few moments, glancing up at you only once before nodding his head and flipping the paper face down.

Your playful stint with Donghyuck ended as Jaemin stood from his seat, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “I’ve written the last two steps down.” He began, avoiding your eyes. “I got class in fifteen.”

Jaemin swiftly left you both sitting there, Hyuck already scrolling on his phone when you nudged him. “Aren’t you going to look at step six and seven?” You nudged the paper toward him.

“Eh, read ‘em to me.” Donghyuck shrugged, glancing up at you from his game.

You rolled your eyes, reaching over for the paper. You flipped it over, skimming over the last two steps. Your heart stilled, your body seizing in shock as your brain caught up.

“Oh my god, I’m an idiot.” You whispered, Donghyuck finally glancing over to you.

“I could have told you that, but why?” His head shoved into your eyeline to look at the paper.

‘STEP SIX: WAIT FOR HER TO NOTICE’

“So? Why are you an idiot?” He looked puzzled, eyeing your frozen form carefully.

“Look at this list,” You wave it almost frantically. “Jaemin has done every single one of these things for me.”

“Oh, Yeah. That’s cause he’s in love with you.” Your friend said casually, your head snapping in his direction.

“What?” You choked in disbelief, dropping the list to the table once more.

“I’m surprised you haven’t caught on yet,” Hyuck laughed, “Kinda tragic if you ask me, unrequited love and all.” He yelped when he received a smack to the forearm.

“It’s not unrequited!” It was almost comical how his eyes widened at your exclamation.

“Then go and find him, look at step seven.”

STEP SEVEN: CONFESS

You left the coffee shop in a clumsy mess, nearly headbutting the door on your way out. Honestly, you were beating yourself up over this. Just how long had you been tiptoeing around each other like this? How long had Jaemin been waiting for you to notice?

Of course, there were some intrusive thoughts shoved into the chaos of your mind. Like; What if you were overlooking this? What if Hyuck was lying? What if Jaemin had gotten bored of waiting for you and moved on already?

You skidded to a stop at your front door, suddenly remembering he wasn’t home. Jaemin was in class for at least two hours and you’d just run all the way back to the apartment to confess to him. However, with one whiff of your body, whilst taking your shoes off, you were glad he wasn’t home yet. It allowed you to shower, do your hair, and spritz some of your favorite perfume over yourself.

When Jaemin arrived home, he found you pacing the length of the living room. He wondered if you’d wear the carpet out at this rate. “Did Hyuck understand the last two points okay?” The question hung in the air as he straightened from removing his shoes.

Jaemin knew that this was make or break. You either caught on to his subliminal message or it went right over your head and he would have to revoke the entire list. Though, the look you gave him at that moment said you understood very well.

“How long?” Your voice was a mere whisper, fingers tangling amongst themselves as your feet came to a stop at the end of the couch.

Silence. Jaemin said nothing, his backpack falling from his shoulder to make a dull sound on the carpet. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, Jaemin was having trouble reading your expression. He wasn’t sure if the tears that were overspilling your eyes were a good thing or not. His teeth bit into his cheek.

“Jaemin, how long?” You moved in closer, your voice was desperate.

“A… a while.” He mumbled. “Too long,” He shook his head, suddenly finding the stain on the carpet much more interesting than the tears that spelled the pain on your face.

You sniffled, closing the gap between you to gently cup his cheeks with your palms and lift his gaze back onto yours. Jaemin caved, leaning into your loving touch with eyes fluttering closed. Warm hands cupped over your own.

“Please,” You’d never heard such vulnerability in Jaemin’s voice. “Let me down gently, ____.”

Jaemin’s eyes opened slowly, already feeling the numbness of rejection seep into his bones. But, you just shook your head with a watery smile. It made him hurt more, his first thought wondering if you were intentionally going to make him suffer for this.

“Oh, Jaem, I don’t plan to let you down at all.” Your whispered words were like a wash of color in skies of grey.

Jaemin’s breath of relief relaxed his shoulders and he wasted no time in connecting your lips. His kiss was gentle, surprisingly so for how long he had been waiting for you. Your lips were soft and he could taste the remanence of the drink you’d had earlier. Your lips slotted over Jaemin’s like they were made to be there, like a missing puzzle piece. It felt right.

It was you who pulled away first, slowly opening your eyes to smile shyly at him. “I love you, Jaemin.”

“I love you, ____”

©acescavern, Please do not copy, repost, or translate my works. Reblogging is allowed.

#tbr

[faesficfix]

Persimmon Problems

jaemin x reader

summary: fantasy crushes are all fun and games until it stops being a fantasy and he’s really talking to you. but what are you supposed to do when he invades every part of your life?

genre: fluff, angst, university au, non idol au, he’s not a frat boy but he’s basically a frat boy, inaccurate depictions of student council, I don’t actually know what this is

warnings: swearing, drinking, implied sex (it’s pg-13), lmk if I missed any

wc: 18.3k (oops)

a/n: ahahaha remember that jaemin dream… yeah. anyways so I’ve looked at this for so long that I don’t even know what this is anymore, all I know is that I can’t keep working on it. also I still don't know what a persimmon tastes like so.. yeah. I really wanted to try one but if this stays in my drafts any longer I will go insane. I hope you all enjoy!!!! as always I'd love to hear what you think :)

You’ve never had persimmon before but you think maybe it’s the best word to describe Na Jaemin. He is a persimmon in your palm, an unknown flavor to be discovered if you dare to bite. It doesn’t help that he chose to wear orange today, the sweater a shade away from pink. 

There’s a pinch at your side. “You’re staring again.” 

You glare at Renjun, who doesn’t bother to look up from his laptop, working on the graphic for the student council. “Was not.” 

“Whatever,” he says. “Just don’t let the pretty boy distract you from paying attention because I needed to finish this yesterday.”

“The only one distracting me is you, and you aren’t pretty.” You pretend his silence is agreement instead of him trying to force you to take notes as Professor Bae closes up the lecture. 

It’s not that you can’t focus around Na Jaemin–your perfect notes at the end of class prove just the opposite. Jaemin simply exists in another world. There is your corner, mostly filled with student council responsibilities and never ending university work, and there is Na Jaemin, honorary member of every frat on campus. Not that you’ve been thinking that much about him, but his Instagram shows up in your recommended often enough for you to know that he goes to parties nearly every weekend. The sliver of overlap in the Venn diagram of your world and his only includes Microbiology on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1 to 4, and that’s enough for you. To fantasize about him from here, a fruit you’ll never have the opportunity to try. 

Jaemin starts to turn around and you quickly turn to Renjun, resisting the urge to peek at him out of the corner of your eye. You look at the shapes on Renjun’s computer instead. 

“That looks like shit.” 

“Trust the process,” he says. 

“You spent the entire lecture working on this, you are aware we have a lab where you actually have to do things right?” 

“You don’t think you can handle it on your own?” 

“Stop trying to bait me into doing all the work.” You close your laptop, standing and stretching. You see Jaemin out of the corner of your eye, a blob of black hair shuffling down the aisle toward the door to the classroom. The orange-pink sweater is actually a cardigan, large cream colored buttons keeping it together. That’s when you realize you’re staring again. Shit. 

“Are we eating before lab or do you seriously think you’ll finish that thing in the next thirty minutes?” You ask Renjun, who still hasn’t moved. 

“You want to be president when you aren’t even pressuring me into posting the election announcements that were supposed to go out yesterday?” 

“I want to eat something before we have to stare into microscopes, so what do you want?” You wonder if he’s focused enough to miss you grabbing his wallet out of his bag. 

“Whatever you want is fine and if you use my card it will literally decline.” You curse and toss his wallet back into his backpack. 

“Should have taken that class with Chenle, his card never declines.” 

“That’s because it’s his parents’ black card.” He finally looks up from his laptop at you. “Are you getting the food or not?” 

You open your mouth to say something extremely witty and/or smart, but your stomach rumbles. “I’m going to fire you when I’m president.” 

“And who else will put up with your bullshit?” he calls as you walk down the aisle. You prepare a mature response (sticking your tongue out at him), walking backwards. Directly into someone—bouncing off their chest, more specifically. 

Hands grab your shoulders before you can react, straightening you before you have a chance to fall. “Woah there.” 

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry,” you say as you turn around and find Na Jaemin staring at you. Apologies spill out, even as he smiles at you, a true, knees-to-jelly, threat-to-sunshine smile. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. 

“Sorry,” you repeat. Your brain struggles to diversify its vocabulary with him looking at you, smiling with his eyes in full focus. His eyes are so dark it’s difficult to distinguish between his pupils and his irises. Staring, again, the third time in an hour. Why can’t you be normal around him? 

“I was blocking your way out anyway, so it wasn’t all your fault.” He steps back, letting you out of the aisle. At least, giving you the space to do it, since your feet decide not to work. He tilts his head at you, sending your brain into a spiral of predictions, ranging from he’s going to ask you out (rather fantastical) to he’s going to tell you that you have something stuck between your teeth (horribly realistic). 

Instead, he says, “You’re YN, right?” 

“Yeah. How did you know that?” 

His smile widens when you say yes. “Student council vice president, right?” 

You don’t trust your voice so you nod. 

“I’m Jaemin,” he says, extending his hand for a moment like he wants to shake hands but he pulls away at the last second. “Your picture is on the website.” 

“Nice to meet you,” you say, mouth going through the motions on its own since your brain’s whiteboard has been wiped completely clean. The only thing left is NA JAEMIN in giant bold letters, bright red marker and all. 

“Yes, it is,” he says. Does he know the effect his smile has on people? Legally it could be considered a weapon. He pauses a moment longer, like he wants to say something else but instead he turns away, walking back to his seat, waving at half the class because of course he does. 

You don’t have to turn around to feel Renjun staring at you. You don’t feel like hearing his judgy comments, even when they’re only passed on through his eyes. Whoever said eyes are the window to the soul was right—Renjun’s give you a clear view of the most judgmental person you have ever met. You leave the class without looking back. 

Very few places nearby campus sell edible food, and even fewer are ever empty enough to be able to grab food and eat before the three hour lab starts. Today is even worse than normal, as if everyone has chosen to be hungry at the same time as you. You end up at a 7/11, grabbing Takis since they’re the only chips Renjun will eat. You grab an iced tea, tapping your finger in line as you wait. Getting the food was enough of a distraction to keep you from thinking about Jaemin but as you wait for the person in front of you try to get a discount using a coupon that expired three months ago, you go over every millisecond of the interaction–and god, you were so awkward. All you really did was apologize to him, you couldn’t even move. You have got to grow up, stop acting like a middle schooler with a crush. 

The cashier finally gives up, giving the person a discount and waving them out. You set your food down and smile at her. She does her best to put a customer service smile back on her face, though you can see the exhaustion. You thank her as profusely as you can. 

By the time you make it back to the lecture room, there’s barely five minutes left of break. 

“Thank god, I’m starving,” Renjun says, grabbing the bag out of your hands. You keep your iced tea on the side farthest from him, glaring at him until he tilts the bag so that you can reach it too. “We are going to make Donghyuck cook tonight, I need real food.” 

“Agreed,” you say, covering your mouth with your hand so you don’t spew hot chip dust everywhere. 

“And I took pictures of you embarrassing yourself in front of Jaemin, so please try to replace me as your social media correspondent.” He smiles at you over the purple bag. 

“You’re horrible, has anyone ever told you that?” 

“Music to my ears, sweetheart.” 

.

.

Unfortunately, Renjun’s graphic does look good, though still not good enough to warrant how much time he spent on it. The messy shapes don’t look half as bad when they’re the right color, and all the information is listed (not in Comic Sans, though it’s only a matter of time before he tries to use it again. You have yet to find out if he actually likes the font or just wants to be annoying). He posts it an hour after the lab, which wasn’t half bad. Your percent error was under 50% for once. 

It’s a Friday morning, no classes since your university actually listened to the student requests for a three day weekend, which the student council (you) takes full credit for. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean you are responsibility free. Instead you sit in cheap plastic chairs rented from the events and planning committee and under a tent that’s in serious danger of blowing away. 

You cling to your ball cap, NCIT STUDENT COUNCIL embroidered on the front. The papers in front of you whip around, the weights on top of them holding steady. At least it isn’t raining, though the thick clouds overhead get darker every minute. 

Realistically, there’s no reason for you to be here. All the information about running for student council is posted online and with over 30,000 students, only a small portion of the student body actually care—none of whom are walking around campus at 11 in the morning on a Friday. You pull the blanket tighter over your shoulders. Just another fifteen minutes and then Jisung will relieve you. Mark should be the one freezing his ass off since he’s the one that insists on upholding tradition, but as president he takes advantage of avoiding work whenever he can. 

Only two and a half months before that privilege is yours. Assuming you are elected, of course, but there’s no real danger in losing that. You’ve been a part of the council since freshman year, appointed as vice president as a sophomore. Few people have more qualifications, and fewer are actually interested in the position. Usually the competition comes from within the cabinet, but none of the rest of the guys have said anything about the running, though that might be because you haven’t shut up about the position since freshman year. Either way, the position is all but yours, and there is absolutely no reason you need to sit here when you could be studying for midterms. 

A strong gust of wind blows from in front of you instead of behind and this time you are too slow. Your cap flies off your head, tumbling across the empty quad. You shuffle after it, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly over your shoulders, which helps protect you from the cold winds. Unfortunately, said cold winds don’t stop blowing, and your hat blows faster than you can shuffle. It reaches to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the squad by the time it finally stops. 

Moving as fast as you can wrapped up one dry day away from mummification, you try to snatch the cap before it gets blown away again. You bend down to reach for it but a pair of sneakers appear in front of you and a mitten-clad hand grabs it before you can. You stand up and find Jaemin, wearing bright red earmuffs that have a green headband to make it look like a pair of cherries. He holds your hat out, smiling when he sees you (when he recognizes you?). 

“What’s wrong? Hat got your tongue?” He waits, with an expectant smile. The boy next to him, wearing more layers than you, shakes his head. “Sorry,” Jaemin says, “bad joke, I know, but I couldn’t help it.” 

Even the most lovesick part of you can’t defend him on that one. You take your hat from his outstretched hand, sticking it back on your head when you realize what your hair must look like after crossing the quad with all the wind. 

“It’s Jaemin, from microbio,” he says, as if there’s actually a chance you don’t know him. 

“Thanks, Jaemin from microbio.”

He flashes a smile that warms you better than any sun. “My pleasure, Vice President.” 

“You can just call me YN,” you mumble. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” You swear he winks, though maybe it’s the wind blowing in his eyes. 

The boy next to him nudges Jaemin with his shoulder, keeping his hands tucked safely in the pockets of his jacket. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” 

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “This is Jeno, he’s–God, I guess he’s my best friend.” He glances at Jeno, unimpressed. “The position is temporary.” 

“Thanks!” Jeno says brightly. 

“Jeno, this is the vice president of the student council,” he says. 

“YN,” you say, “I’d shake your hand but…” You show your hands, stuck keeping the blanket wrapped around you. 

“It’s alright, I lost my gloves, so my hands are stuck here.” Jeno lifts his jacket with his hands in the pockets, just to prove his point. 

“Hey, I didn’t get a handshake,” Jaemin says. 

“Did you need a handshake?” 

He tilts his head, showing off his jawline, not that you’re paying attention to that at all. It simply calls attention to itself, and who are you to ignore a jawline that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo (not the ninja turtle). He must be cold with so much skin exposed. 

“I’ll settle for some advice,” Jaemin says. Right, maybe you shouldn’t be comparing his face to famous works of art mid-conversation (save it for the Instagram stalking like everyone else). 

“Advice?” 

“I was actually looking for you anyway.” Jaemin glances at Jeno before meeting your eyes again. “The student council election is open to anyone, right?” 

“The presidency is open to seniors that are enrolled here, but yeah,” you say. “Why?” 

He shrugs. “I’m going to apply.” 

You blink at him. “For president? Of student council?” 

“Yeah,” he says. Jeno shuffles beside him, stuffing his hands impossibly deeper into his pockets. 

President… but that’s your position. If it wasn’t for the senior-only rule, you’d already be president. You rose through the ranks, suffered through a vice presidency with Mark to get here–it’s your position. 

“Do I apply there?” He asks, pointing at the table you’re supposed to be sitting at. 

“The application is online,” you find yourself saying, “you have to submit a resume and go through a qualifying process, and submit your proposals for campaign policies and a whole bunch of other stuff, it’s all on the application information.” You’re about halfway through your own application, though it’s mostly copying and pasting from the document you’ve been working on since you joined student council. 

“You can scan the QR code on this blanket, it’ll take you to the application.” You hold it straight, cursing Renjun in your head for being so creative with marketing. You look like an idiot, waiting for him to scan your shoulder. 

“Cool,” Jaemin says, pulling out his phone, but instead of scanning the code, he hands it to you, a new contact profile with your name already in it. You glance between the phone and the smiling boy. “Can I ask you if I have any questions?” 

Jaemin is asking you for his phone number. To help with his campaign, against you. Your brain works in overdrive, trying to determine how you are supposed to feel. Your heart doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of the internal turmoil. You put your number into his phone and hand it back to him. 

“Sure,” you say, even as your brain screams at you not to. “Whatever I can do to help.” 

He grins and your brain fully malfunctions, gears popping, cartoon sparks flying. “Thank you, YN.” 

“No problem,” you mumble, knowing that’s not true at all even without a functioning brain cell. You should have let him call you vice president when you had the chance–this is so much worse. 

“I should go back,” you say, taking a step backward, a gamble considering your history of walking backwards around him. Trying not to linger in Jaemin’s presence is like a planet resisting the pull of gravity to the sun–no matter how hard you try, you can’t beat physics.  

 But maybe he isn’t the sun because when you take another step, Jaemin takes a step to follow you. Are there stars that revolve around planets? But Jaemin doesn’t revolve around you, he doesn’t even exist in your solar system. Maybe a black hole is a better metaphor, sucking you in from a galaxy over. You should stop making metaphors based on middle school astronomy. 

You peer at Jaemin as he continues across the quad, walking leisurely beside you as you shuffle. Jeno trails behind slightly, risking the cold to pull out a phone. 

“Are you following me?” 

Jaemin looks at you over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows. “You think you’re that special already?” Before you can answer, he laughs. “But, yeah, I am. I can’t leave you all by yourself out here, anything could happen.” 

“As opposed to by myself at the table?” 

He shrugs. “There’s two chairs. I could sit with you.” 

It’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, looking him up and down. He’s got a puffy jacket (bright red, probably to match with the earmuffs) and jeans. “You’d freeze in five minutes.” 

“You could–” 

“Are we going to Doyoung’s or not?” Jeno calls from behind you. 

“Right,” Jaemin says, “I definitely did not forget about that.” He glances at you. “Rain check?” 

“I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities for you to keep me company freezing my ass off,” you say, “but seriously, I wouldn’t let you stay anyway.” You reach the table, turning to face him. 

Jaemin pouts. “Why not?” 

“For starters, I don’t want to be responsible for the hypothermia you’re bound to catch,” you say, “and it’s a student council thing. You’re not a part of the student council.” 

“Not yet.” 

Right. The standard, crush-threatening-the-dream-you’ve-spent-three-years-working-toward-situation. “Also, no offense, but I barely know you.” 

“Offense taken,” Jaemin says, holding a hand over his chest. “We’ve taken half a class together!” 

“We’ve spoken twice if you count today!” You say. Does he really not get it? “At the very least it would be awkward.” 

“I take full offense to the idea that I could ever be awkward,” Jaemin says. He folds his arms over his chest, eyeing you. “I’ll prove it to you.” Your gut twists, sending off the warning bells, but there’s no way Jaemin is actually flirting with you. He probably hates the idea that someone doesn’t immediately trust him with their heart and soul. He doesn’t need to know that you already do. That’s why there’s simply no way he’s flirting with you–it simply doesn’t make sense. 

“Dude, we seriously need to go,” Jeno says. “Doyoung is spam texting.” 

Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows at you. “I’ll see you in class.” 

“Bye Jaemin,” you say. You watch him walk away with Jeno, throwing his arm over his friend’s shoulders. He doesn’t look back at you. 

What just happened? 

Jisung approaches so quietly you jump when you turn around and he stands in front of you. “Was that Na Jaemin?” 

“Yes–wait, how do you know him?” 

Jisung avoids your eyes, turning to watch the pair of boys trudge away. “Renjun talks.” 

You’re going to kill him. But first you need to defrost, so you hand the blanket over to Jisung and jump a few times to warm yourself up, trying in vain to make up for the loss. 

“What was he doing here?” Jisung asks, wrapping himself so tightly his feet are bound together. One strong push would send him tumbling over, probably unable to get up. If only it was Renjun. 

“He wants to be president.” 

“Of student council?” 

“Apparently.” 

“Huh.” Jisung sits back. “Aren’t you supposed to be president?” 

“Yep.” 

“Huh.” Jisung stares at you. 

“Have fun!” You say. The air without Jaemin is so much colder. Maybe your toes have frostbite. “It’s cold!” 

Jisung grunts, huddling down and you don’t spare a second look at him. There’s a solid chance he’s texting Renjun already, since your best friend has decided to be a dirty gossip. You walk along the sidewalk and try to tell your heart that no matter how pretty his smile is, Na Jaemin is bad for you. Your heart reminds you that he saved your hat. 

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, fully expecting to see a message from Renjun but instead a string of numbers show up. you better save my number :). You stare at your phone until it fades to black, which is why you know the exact moment it starts to snow. Though it’s March and the groundhog didn’t see its shadow, a snowflake falls on your phone, melting quickly. You walk home in the snow, thoughts of Jaemin piling up a snowbank that no plow can clear. 

.

.

For breakfast on Tuesday morning, you have an untoasted bagel with a side of impending doom. You woke up with the feeling, a knot in your gut that usually only appears before exams or after you drink too much coffee, but today has chosen to warn you of unknown horrors yet to come. It has to be the dream you had, only you forgot it the moment you woke up. 

[Bitch #1] You’re just trying to avoid jaemin. 

You don’t know why you expected Renjun to support you. Unsurprisingly, he found out about Jaemin’s intent to run for president before you made it back to your apartment, and dedicated an hour to lecturing you over FaceTime, then spent the entire pregame on Saturday side eyeing you. 

Jaemin’s message sits at the bottom of your recent texts. He hasn’t sent anything since Friday, though neither have you. You close your phone and try not to think about him, an impossible task. In the end you can’t think of a valid excuse, and go to your morning lecture. It’s one of your favorite classes (world history of medicinal developments 1200-1600) but today your mind drifts, still trying to figure out why today feels so off. Are you forgetting an assignment? You’ve checked the syllabus for all of your classes and the reminders your professors sent out but nothing has slipped past your the list on your planner. You check your outfit after class to see if you put something on backwards but you look fine. By the time you head toward microbio, you’ve resigned yourself to a day of inexplicable anxiety. 

You should have trusted your gut. 

You take one step into the room and the knot in your gut twists itself into a mess that spells out leave now while you still have the chance. 

In your normal spot at the back of the classroom, sitting beside Renjun, sits Jaemin, grinning and waving at you like he’s been sitting there the entire semester. 

You walk carefully down the aisle of desks, stopping in front of him. “You’re in my seat.” 

Jaemin doesn’t seem to notice Renjun’s snort, opting to smile at you. “Hello YN, it’s nice to see you.” 

“Hi Jaemin,” you say, “you’re in my seat.” 

He rolls his eyes, sliding his backpack to the side and slipping into the next seat over. “I was just getting to know Renjun.” 

You glare at your best friend, sitting beside him. “I’m sure he’s been lovely.” Renjun smiles innocently, turning back to photoshopping a graphic of the student council.  

Jaemin pulls out his laptop, sitting leaning back into the chair. Is he planning on sitting here for the whole class?  

“What are you doing?” You ask softly. Renjun continues to click around, not even pretending not to eavesdrop.

“I told you, I could never be awkward,” Jaemin says. 

“Speak for yourself,” you mutter, shrinking in your seat. Does he really not notice the class staring at you? Okay, maybe staring is an exaggeration, and it’s not the whole class, but the people he normally sits with keep glancing back at you and whispering to each other. 

Professor Bae walks in and they turn back to the front, saving you from (more) embarrassment. From the corner of your eye, you watch the boys at your sides—Renjun doesn’t bother to open the notes doc he shares with you, opting for continuing the edit, which you can’t really complain about because it’s the series of posts you asked him to make. Jaemin pulls up a cartoon series, Teen Titans, volume off with the subtitles on. 

“Is this what you do every class?” You whisper. 

Jaemin looks away from his fake typing for a moment. “She grades for attendance, not participation.” 

“Are you even passing this class?” 

Jaemin grins. “Sweetheart, I skew the curve.” Just to prove his point, he pauses the bickering superheroes and pulls up the grade review for the class. True to his word, his scores are well above average, rivaling your own. With the exception of Renjun, you haven’t met anyone who’s gotten similar grades. 

Jaemin smiles, switching back to the show. He exudes confidence, and why wouldn’t he? Not only hot and popular, he’s smart too, smarter than you—it takes you hours of studying, exam cram sessions, paying attention in class—he doesn’t even hide that he isn’t paying attention, and from his reputation alone, you know he doesn’t spend as much time studying as you. Does he know what he’s getting into with student council? Even the laziest of presidents put in several hours of work a week.

Jaemin laughs at the show. Renjun finally glances at you, raising his eyebrows at Jaemin in a silent question. You shrug, mouthing, I don’t know either. He purses his lips and turns back to photoshop. You’re sure the second Jaemin steps away he’s going to be on your ass again. 

Belatedly, you realize you’ve spent far too much of the class thinking about Jaemin. Professor Bae has already moved on from weekly announcements to new topics, meaning you have a date with YouTube review videos tonight. Thank god Professor Bae actually cares about her students and has recorded lectures. You just have to hope you didn’t miss one of the exam hints she only drops during class. 

Jaemin and Renjun stay quiet for the rest of the class period, though it does little to help you actually focus. Between Jaemin existing next to you and the inevitability of Renjun’s judgment, it’s hard to stay focused on virus identification. You take half the notes you usually do. 

But can you really blame it on them? It’s you that loses focus, you that is distracted by Jaemin beside you when he doesn’t actively try to pull your attention. He may have disrupted the balance of the universe by sitting beside you, but that doesn’t mean you have to fall off the scale. 

Professor Bae announces the end of lecture a couple minutes early. You swear you see her raise her eyebrows at you and glance at Jaemin before disappearing into her office for the half hour break before lab. Is it too self-absorbed to wonder if she’s taking things the wrong way? But what is the wrong way? None of it makes any sense except that maybe Jaemin is too stubborn for his own good. Funny how a week ago he didn’t know your name and now you can say he’s ‘too’ something. 

“So what do you normally do during break?” Jaemin asks. “Other than bounce off the chest of your roguishly handsome classmates.” 

You roll your eyes to keep him from noticing how flustered his comment actually makes you. “Go over the prelab in case someone forgets to do it–”

“I always do it!” Renjun says. 

“–but usually get snacks and do homework. Lately Renjun has been doing a lot of student council work during class, but that’s because he doesn’t know how to manage his time.” 

“Says the one who asked me to design a scheduler for them.” 

“Just because you’re good at Canva doesn’t mean you’re on top of your work.” 

Renjun shakes his head. You can tease him all you want, at the end of the day, you know that it doesn’t really matter. The truth is, he just doesn’t need to study as much as you. Sort of like Jaemin, and absolutely nothing like you. 

“What do you normally do during break?” You ask. 

Jaemin purses his lips. “Well, my lab partner rarely does the prelab, so usually I let him look at mine.” From the row where Jaemin normally sits, a guy in a striped yellow polo glares back at you. 

You glance between him and Jaemin, who turns away from his partner to look at you. “Should you go over there?” 

“Probably.” He doesn’t make a move to get up, instead tilting his head and smiling at you a little. “You’re very interesting, YN.” 

You cough, breaking eye contact to fiddle with the A key on your laptop which is in serious danger of falling off. “Well, your lab partner is probably going to try and inject you with a virus during lab if you don’t go over there.” 

Jaemin laughs. “You’re probably right. I’ll talk to you later.” He stands up and glances at Renjun, who finally looks away from his laptop. Jaemin nods at him and flashes a smile at you, showing perfect rows of white teeth, and finally turns around, backpack half open in his hand. 

You tear your eyes away from him, turning back to Renjun, who sits with his elbow on the armrest, chin in hand. He softens his eyes and looks up at you. “You’re very interesting, YN.” 

“Shut up,” you say, pushing his elbow out from under him, though he doesn’t fall like you wish he would. 

He shakes his head. “I do not like that guy.” 

“Really?” You frown. “Why?” 

“The fact that you’re even asking me that.” He sighs. “He’s just not my favorite type of guy.” He glares at you before you can tease him. “You seem to exclusively be attracted to shitty men, and then I become associated with them through proximity and it’s overall not a fun time for me.” 

“Okay first of all, you barely know Jaemin,” you say, “and second of all, nothing’s ever going to happen with him.” 

Renjun raises his eyebrows. 

“Seriously,” you insist, “he’s literally Jaemin, and I’m… not his type. You can hate him all you want but don’t do it on my behalf.” 

Renjun stares at you a little longer. He doesn’t believe you, and he’s probably right not to. But he turns back to his computer and doesn’t argue back. 

“I didn’t do the pre lab, though,” Renjun says, “that was a lie.” 

“I’m going to kill you and make it look like an accident.” 

.

.

Jaemin doesn’t show up to class on Thursday. You stare at your phone, the single message in your conversation with him. Curiosity and something bitter boil together, making it impossible to think logically. He acts so friendly around you it would be easy to mistake him for a friend, but it’s not like you don’t have friends. You wouldn’t have a second thought about sending a text like this to Renjun or Donghyuck–but you’ve never felt butterflies when either of them looked at you. 

So when your phone dies, you slip it into the pocket of your sweatshirt instead of trying to fight Mark for a charger (ever since “someone” stole one, he’s been overprotective of the cords). It’s movie night anyways, it’s not like you need your phone. 

“Wait,” you say, “since when are we watching Endgame?” 

“We literally just voted,” Donghyuck says, “You could have tied it for Lilo and Stitch but you weren’t paying attention.” He glares at you. 

Mark throws an arm over your shoulders. “It’s all good, YN can just make the popcorn.” 

“It’s hitting buttons on a microwave.” 

“Oh, would you look at that, the movie’s starting!” Mark says, pushing you off the couch and towards the kitchen of his apartment. You glare at him, but the guys have made you watch Marvel movies enough times that you are glad for the excuse to escape any part of it. It’s bad enough you can hear it from the kitchen. 

The shelves in Mark’s apartment are tall enough that he keeps a stool in the kitchen so that he can reach the highest of them. Of course that’s where he keeps his popcorn, so you jump as high as you can, snatching the box. Except you pull a little too hard and the box flies clean out of your hand, your feet slipping out from under you. You tumble to the ground, narrowly avoiding banging your head on the faux marble countertop. 

A moment later, Donghyuck appears standing over you, box of popcorn in one hand. “You could have just used the stool.” 

“That’s so much work.” 

“And yet it keeps you off the floor.” He holds out his free hand and helps you stand. Your tailbone hurts a little but otherwise it seems you dodged major damage. 

“You okay?” Chenle shouts. 

“Fine,” you shout back. You wonder what the odds are that they’d let you bleed out to finish the movie—probably higher than what you want to calculate. At least Donghyuck is as anti-Endgame as you. 

He sets the box on the counter, pulling the plastic off a bag and putting it in the microwave for five minutes. You would’ve just used the popcorn button but Donghyuck insists it tastes better this way. He turns around, leaning against the counter and studying you. 

“So,” he says. 

You raise your eyebrows. “‘So’ what?” 

“So, Jaemin.” Donghyuck stares at you, eyes unreadable. He’s been like this ever since you met him—pulling people apart with his eyes and extracting the most important bits, all with a smile on his face. He knew Shotaro was going to drop out before Shotaro did. 

“He’s…” A friend? A crush? The guy you wish would stay out of your life so you could keep daydreaming about him? 

“He’s sort of famous,” Donghyuck says. “Or infamous, depending on who you ask.” 

“And if I ask you?” 

Donghyuck smiles like this is going according to his script. “He’s lots of fun to party with. I don’t know anyone that doesn’t like him.” 

“But?” You jump when the first piece of popcorn pops. 

Donghyuck pins you down with his eyes. “But he isn’t the boyfriend type. I mean, I’m not best friends with the guy, but it’s pretty obvious, and I talked to—”

“Stop.” You hold a hand up. “I know exactly what kind of guy he is, I’m not an idiot.” 

“I’m not saying you’re an idiot, I just—”

“Donghyuck, I get it.” You stare back at him. “I really do, but I promise I know what I’m doing.” Okay, maybe that last part is a lie, but you know what you aren’t doing. You don’t expect a single thing from Na Jaemin. 

“I heard he’s running for president.” 

“Come on,” you say, “you think he can beat me?” Donghyuck raises his eyebrows. He won’t call you out on it, but he doesn’t have to. Your lie doesn’t even convince yourself. Jaemin has it all—grades, good looks, and, most importantly, popularity. Yes, he can beat you. Easily. 

“Why are you helping him?” 

“Jisung can’t keep his mouth shut, huh?” 

“Renjun was actually the one that told me, but that’s not the point,” Donghyuck says. 

“He hasn’t even asked for help,” you say, “and it’s not like I’m going to give up. I just…”

“You like him,” Donghyuck says. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to try to deny it but you won’t fight a battle that’s already lost. But you won’t admit it either. 

“I know what I’m doing.” 

Donghyuck chews on his lip for a moment. “Just be careful,” he says, “I do care about you. A little. Just a tiny bit. And from what I know, Jaemin is a good guy, but I don’t want you to get hurt because he isn’t what you want him to be.” 

“Gross, stop acting like we’re friends,” you say. 

“Never mind, I take it all back,” he says, “and I won’t be your vice president.” 

“Too late.” You shrug. “You already signed a contract.” 

“Fine, I’ll veto everything you propose.” 

“You don’t have the power to do that.” 

He tossed his hands up. “What is the point of being vice president?” 

You beam at him. “Doing the shit I don’t want to do!” 

Donghyuck opens his mouth to argue back but he pauses, sniffing at the air, and that’s when you realize the popcorn has long since stopped popping. Behind Donghyuck, smoke rises. 

He curses, pressing the button to open the door only to take a wave of smoke straight in the face. At least the bag isn’t on fire. You laugh as he waved his hand in front of his face, coughing. 

“Dude, what is that smell?” Mark shouts from the living room. 

You spend half the movie bickering with Donghyuck while trying to get the sharp smoky scent out of Mark’s kitchen. By the time the Avengers have all the infinity stones again and are in the final battle, you are curled up on the floor with a blanket, the popcorn bowl confiscated by Chenle when he realized how much you and Donghyuck ate while making it (it sort of tastes like smoke anyways). Two Marvel movies later, Mark shakes you awake and sends you and the rest of the guys out. 

You’re so tired by the time you get home, you plug your phone in and fall asleep. That’s why you don’t see the message until your alarm goes off the next morning. 

[Na Jaemin] you busy? 

.

.

For the past three weeks, you’ve tried meditation. Renjun swears by it, but you’ve seen him lose it over half a quesadilla, so it doesn’t exactly instill confidence in you. Still, you set aside ten minutes every morning to listen to the podcast he sent you. It’s meant to be calming, to connect you with yourself, and usually you do feel better, at least for a few minutes. 

You peek at your phone, checking how much time in the lesson is left (3 and a half minutes). No new notifications. 

Jaemin’s message gave you a heart attack when you woke up. He sent it at 8:12pm, probably right after your phone died. So seeing his message first thing in the morning woke you up pretty fast. You sent an apology that you definitely didn’t rewrite fifteen times, and now you wait. 

But no, you’re meditating right now. Clearing your mind, not thinking about a single thing except the air that floods your lungs, letting your heart beat twice before releasing the air again. You peek your right eye open. No new notifications. 

The narration ends and you sigh, laying back on your bed and checking your schedule for the day even though you’ve memorized it. In half an hour you need to be in the library to meet with your study group, then a council meeting, some space for lunch (which will undoubtedly end up crashed by Chenle or Donghyuck), then more homework in the afternoon. Tonight you’re supposed to go to a party thrown by one of Mark’s friends from grad school—depending on whether Renjun can find out if he’s a poli-sci major or not. 

You jump when your calendar disappears and the incoming call screen pops up. You stare at Jaemin’s name for a couple seconds before your brain begins to function again, and you slide the button at the bottom of your phone to answer the call. 

“Hello?” 

“YN,” Jaemin says. His voice is a little deeper than normal, raspy like he just woke up. “I was starting to think you’d blocked me.” 

“Sorry, my phone died last night and Mark doesn’t let anyone use his chargers.” 

Jaemin laughs, the phone distorting the quality, sounding choppy and un-Jaemin. “Damn, does the student body know he treats his council like this?” 

You laugh a little but can’t think of anything else to say. The silence stretches longer as Jaemin doesn’t speak either. The ceiling of your apartment has a constellation of holes, evidence of the former tenant’s antics. You have yet to figure out exactly what it could be—stabbing the ceiling with a broomstick? What does Jaemin’s ceiling look like? He’s so hard to pin down, like the more you get to know him the less he makes sense. He’s the type to have a messy room with clothes tossed everywhere and a bed that’s never made, yet he’s also the type to keep it neat, put up diagrams to match the college aesthetic of studying even if Jaemin himself is allergic to it. 

“So,” Jaemin says, apparently realizing you aren’t going to say anything else. “I actually texted last night because I wanted to see you.” 

You shove down the butterflies that spring up. “For what?” 

“First of all, it’s cruel that you don’t think I’d want to see you just to see you. But also I was gonna ask to go over microbio together because I heard a rumor that Professor Bae talked about the final.” 

“Don’t you have a lab partner?” 

“Yeah, he’s who told me she talked about it. Unfortunately he’s worse at taking notes than me.” He pauses. “Besides, you’re much cuter.” 

“Oh.” The butterflies breach containment, digging like madmen trying to escape your stomach. 

“So are you free?” 

Despite just checking your schedule, your mind goes blank. You frown, trying to remember what you’d just seen, and thank every deity that might exist that Jaemin can’t see your face right now. 

“I’m free after the council meeting. How is 12:30?” 

“Damn, council meetings on Fridays,” Jaemin says, “that works though. Meet you in the library?” 

“We can use the council room on the third floor,” you say, “no one else will be there.” 

“Okay,” Jaemin says, “see you soon, YN.” 

“Bye, Jaemin.” 

The butterflies have turned into zombies, rotting in your stomach and spoiling the leftover popcorn from last night. It’s just sharing notes. It’s just Jaemin. He’s just a boy from another world. The butterflies groan and demand chocolate. 

.

.

Council meetings feel a little bit like the Magic School Bus series. The tagline plays in your head: A normal council meeting? With this group? No way! 

Some of the blame can be directed towards having such an eclectic group of majors, Mark as the only true political science major. The rest of the group has been adamant about keeping the council safe from political science majors (how Mark doesn’t see the horrors of his classmates you truly don’t know). Another point towards Jaemin, being biochem and pre-med. 

Though being a non-poli-sci major doesn’t mean he can handle the presidency. Mark can barely do that. Not that he’s a bad president. Though it sometimes feels like you do all the heavy lifting for him to take credit for, he does work hard. No, Mark’s problem isn’t his leadership—it’s that he doesn’t know when to give up. 

The council meeting is long done but he continues to bicker with Donghyuck, who holds the entire student council hostage. 

“It’s a proven fact,” Mark says. “How are you arguing with science?” 

“Can science tell me what I feel?” Donghyuck folds his arms over his chest. His laptop has faded to black, the meeting notes long forgotten. “This isn’t about facts, it’s about my experience!” 

You check your phone. The meeting has already gone over fifteen minutes. Any longer and Jaemin could walk in on a very not-empty room with Mark committing a crime against Donghyuck for saying that Froot Loops have individual flavors. Maybe it’s time to intervene. 

“You’re just gaslighting yourself,” Mark says, “it’s not physically possible!” 

“Well, you’re not physically possible!” 

“That makes negative sense. I’m getting dumber listening to your attempts to argue.” 

“Okay,” you say, standing up so quickly your chair falls back. “This isn’t council business anymore. All in favor of concluding the meeting?” According to the official rules, Mark is the only one that can conclude the meeting, but Jisung’s hand flies up, followed quickly by Renjun and Chenle. 

“Cool, majority rule,” you say, ignoring the outrage on Mark’s face. Donghyuck pretends to be mad too, but he was only arguing with Mark to piss him off. He’ll probably follow the older boy around just to ruin his day. The two always have some fight going on—you’re convinced the reason Donghyuck agreed to be your vice president (if you win) is just because Mark would hate it. 

Jisung leaves first, eager to escape from Donghyuck and Mark. Donghyuck pauses long enough to write a few more summarizing notes on the meeting but catches up to Mark before he can vanish, continuing to pester him about Froot Loops. 

“Going home,” Renjun says, “we’re going out tonight, by the way. Turns out Taeyong is an econ major, and also a former frat president.” 

“Huh,” Chenle says, “I can’t believe neither Donghyuck or me know him.” 

Renjun shrugs. “I need to finish a couple projects since nothing will get done tomorrow.” He grins. “See you guys later.” 

“Bye Renjun,” you say, tapping your phone screen to check the notifications. 

[Na Jaemin] in the library  [Na Jaemin] lost in the library  [Na Jaemin] nvm found the stairs 

[yn] need me to come find you? 

[Na Jaemin] nah i don’t get lost (yes please) 

“You’re texting with Jaemin?” Chenle breathes over your shoulder, making you drop your phone. Unfortunately it’s still open, your messages easy to read and Chenle doesn't hesitate to snatch it. At least the rest of the guys left, only Chenle is nosy enough to wonder who you’re texting. 

“This is painful,” he announces. He hands the phone back to you. “You could at least add an emoji. Or, like, send more than one sad message.” 

“Why?” 

Chenle shakes his head. “You are texting the Jaemin, right? Na Jaemin?” 

“Is there any other?”  

“You’ve got a chance here,” Chenle continues, ignoring your question. “Not many people—well, I’ve actually heard he’s quite experienced but that’s beside the point, because you have a chance and that’s rare.” 

“Genuinely, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You glance at the door, just in case Jaemin appears. Somehow you don’t think you want him overhearing this conversation. 

“Okay, look,” Chenle says, “you’re you. Student council, 4.0 GPA, plans to be the next director of the WHO or whatever—”

“That’s not at all what I want.” 

“—never a second you aren’t working, and then there’s Jaemin, and sure he’s a STEM major too, but the he’s type that strolls through life, who has things fall into his lap because he’s hot and lucky but you can’t really be mad about it because he’s Jaemin.” He pauses, like that explains everything. But you already know that Jaemin exists in a realm outside your own. Chenle waits a moment longer then shakes his head. “You know what, you’ll figure it out eventually.” He glances at you with a frown. “Maybe.” 

“Good bye, Chenle,” you say pointedly. 

He moves extra slow, closing his laptop only after spamming the save button. He once forgot to save a spreadsheet after a two hour budgeting session and you think he’s still traumatized. Still, spending a full thirty seconds hitting CTRL + S is excessive even for him—he’s stalling, trying to be as nosy as ever. 

“I’m meeting him at the elevator so you can stop stalling,” you say. You hover over the send button, Chenle’s “advice” infecting your brain. You hit send before you can overthink it any more. 

[yn] on the way now 👍 

Chenle sighs, returning to peeking over your shoulder. “You’re hopeless.” 

You grin and give him a thumbs up. “Thanks buddy. If you hurry you can run into him in the elevators.” 

Chenle perks up, grabbing his still-open bag and sprinting out the door. You feel a little bad for lying to him, but he was the one that didn’t read Jaemin’s messages closely enough—evident from missing the fact that he’s on his way up the stairs and how Chenle thinks he might actually be flirting with you. You shake your head at the thought. 

Just when you reach the doorway to the stairs and wonder if you should meet him in the stairwell, the door flies open. Despite climbing three flights of stairs, Jaemin breathes normally. A different backpack than usual is sling over his back, bright orange, like… well, an orange. (Persimmon, your brain unhelpfully supplies). 

“Hi,” he says. “Sorry I’m late.” You wonder how anyone is immune to his smiles. A smile like that robs you of everything irreplaceable and leaves you missing it as soon as it’s gone. 

“You’re not late,” you say, showing him the time on your phone as you walk to the council room. “Exactly on time.” 

“Oh.” He glances at you, and when you turn your phone back to face you, you understand the awkwardness. 

[Chenle] good luck 🤪🤪🤪

[Chenle] have fun with the hottie 🔥🔥🔥

[Chenle] but not too much fun 😼😼

You clear your throat, praying he didn’t get a chance to read all of the messages. “Chenle’s just making fun of my emoji use. Or lack of emoji use.” 

Jaemin nods. “I hate to take the side of someone I’ve never met over you, but he might be right.” 

“I use a perfectly respectable amount of emojis,” you say. “Besides, I’ve never seen you use any.” 

“You’re just going to have to text me more to find out.” 

You’ve never been so happy to see the doors to the council room. It’s nothing more than a glorified study room, with a rectangular table that stretches in the middle of the room, eight wooden seats set around it. A giant whiteboard stretches the majority of the back wall. The only truly special part of the room is the projector that hangs from the ceiling, with a screen that needs a button to come down. The walls that line the hallway are glass, along with the doors, so that anyone can see the council discussions, though tucked away in the back corner of the third floor, only the occasional passerby is subject to the bickering. 

Jaemin raises his eyebrows and whistles. “This is nice.” 

“Don’t lie,” you say. “The only nice thing about it is that we have full access to it whenever we want.” You point to the sign that reads Student Council Members Only. Truthfully, the six of you use it more as a private study room than for actual council work. 

“It is nice,” Jaemin says, holding the door open for you. He pauses in front of the whiteboard. Chenle had been sitting closest to it, apparently spending the final thirty minutes of the meeting drawing out different game plans for the basketball club he somehow has time for. 

“Chenle,” you explain, “he thinks he’s a part of the Golden State Warriors.” 

“How much council work actually gets done in these meetings,” he says teasingly. 

“You catch on fast,” you say. “It took me the full first year to realize how incompetent we are.” 

“How come?” 

“The president just wanted resume padding. He was incredible at sucking up to faculty and making the right people think he was a great leader, but he would send us fresh-terns to pick up condoms and sent Donghyuck with a fake to get drinks once.” 

“Fresh-tern?” 

“The freshman interns,” you explain, “since the president is the only elected position and the rest of the council is appointed, the only way to get known is through the ‘internship,’ which technically is open to anyone but only freshman are dumb enough to dedicate that much time to a job that does absolutely nothing—like, it doesn’t pay or even guarantee you a spot on the council in the future. It’s all based on whether the president likes you or not. 

“Anyway, our president last year was marginally better, and he tried to abolish the seniors-only president rule but couldn’t get it to pass in time, so we ended up with Mark. Not that Mark is a bad president, though council meetings could be half as long if he wouldn’t go on tangents every two minutes.” You stop, realizing how much you’re talking. You’ve come dangerously close to telling him the truth about the presidency. Jaemin says nothing, probably bored. “Anyways, we’ve got a few new initiatives this year but mostly we try to maintain the annual events and keep Mark’s head on his shoulders until he graduates.” 

“Sounds like fun,” Jaemin says. 

“Sometimes.” You pause. “How’s your application going, by the way?” 

He glances at you, smile fading a little. He turns back to the whiteboard, this time studying the fading drawing Renjun made a month ago of a goat fighting Donghyuck. “Still figuring things out. Mostly working on my campaign goals.” 

You nod. A part of you wants to press further, learn more about his plans—but because you want to beat him or because it’s Jaemin? Why is it so difficult to think clearly around him? 

You sit at the table and open your laptop, pulling out your notes. He sits beside you, scraping the chair against the tile floors until his knee is an inch away from yours. He must not notice the way your breath catches in your throat when he leans closer. A moment later and your brain is invaded by his scent, a clean smell like laundry detergent or body wash. 

“It’s organized by subject,” you explain. “Usually I take notes in class and then Renjun reviews and organizes it with keywords and highlighting and this coding system that I don’t really get but he swears by. Either way it works for us.” You show him the keyword that Renjun uses to signify exam hints, combining it with the past class’s date to cross reference the relevant information. 

Jaemin lets out a low whistle. “This is crazy.” 

“Yeah,” you say, “Renjun puts a lot of time into it. But when we study for exams, it’s worth it.” 

“You know Renjun from student council?” He asks, beginning to type a few notes. 

“I guess that’s where I met him first,” you say. “But he’s pretty much my best friend. The whole student council is pretty close, way closer than the group Mark came into. He tells us horror stories about how they made the fresh-terms compete just to turn them against each other, though that’s back when it was filled with poli-sci majors.” 

“None of you are poli-sci?” 

“I’m public health,” you say, “and Mark is poli-sci, but the rest of the guys avoided it. We swore that the next council would be free of the plague of poli-sci majors.” 

“You really hate them?” 

“They deserve it,” you say. “But also it’s because I made the mistake of dating one last year.” You shudder at the memory. 

“Really?” Jaemin looks away from his laptop, staring at you instead. 

“Don’t make fun of me,” you whine. “It was a moment of weakness and he confessed to me with cookies.” 

“Not making fun,” Jaemin says. “Were the cookies at least homemade?” 

“Well, yes.” You shake your head, trying to stop the next bit from coming out. But Jaemin raises his eyebrows and you can’t help it. “He had his ex make them, actually.” 

“No!” 

“Yeah, and then dumped me for them after, like, two weeks, and the guys are all convinced that he cheated on me with them,” you say. “So, no, I don’t really like poli-sci majors.” 

“A good observation,” Jaemin says. His approval makes your cells glow—scientists could discover a new form of bioluminescence from within you. 

Jaemin continues to stare at you, eyes full of warmth. It’s so easy to get lost in them, glancing between the pure dark chocolate and fond smile on his lips. The change in light when your laptop screen fades snaps you out of it. 

You eye him. “Do you even need these?” 

“Nope,” Jaemin says. He grins at you. “Just an excuse to see you.” He turns back to the laptop and continues to copy your notes into his document. You turn around, giving him no chance to see the smile that creeps onto your face. You seriously need to get a grip. Jaemin needs to get a grip and realize that he can’t flirt with you like this, not without completely upsetting the balance of the universe. But even as the world slides sideways, you smile. 

.

.

“Nothing special.” That’s what Renjun said when you asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday. But March 23rd falls on a Friday this year, and everything snowballed from there. 

That’s how you find yourself wearing an outfit even the most lenient parents would dub inappropriate, wearing more body glitter than exists in the state of Utah, taking your fifth shot. 

“Sixteen more to go,” Renjun says, patting your back. Why you promised to match him shot for shot, you aren’t quite sure. You had reasoning, at some point. Definitely before the shots. 

At least you aren’t alone—Donghyuck curls his lip after his shot, lime slice snatched out of his hand by Mark before he can take it as a chaser. Mark laughs as he grimaces. 

 “What’s our motto?” Donghyuck shouts. 

“Two and three to infinity!” Mark shouts. 

“Nobody goes to the hospital!” You shout. 

“To the grave!” Renjun shouts. 

“Huh, I guess we should have coordinated that,” Donghyuck says. “I was thinking something more like ‘happy birthday Renjun.’” 

“Shoulda said something,” you say. You take a step to the couch, the world tilting to the side, though maybe it’s actually you because you stumble into the wall. It holds you up until you make it to the couch, sighing as you reach solid ground. A couple people sit next to you, friends of friends of Renjun whose names you don’t know regardless of the alcohol. 

“You’re YN, right?” The girl closer to you says, making you feel a little guilty for having no idea who they are. She beams when you nod. “I live in Apollo Hall, Karina is my RA, she says you aced biochem.”  

“Oh, yeah,” you say. “Who do you have?” 

“Professor Ahn,” she says. 

“He’s good,” you say, “I had him for a different class and he talks off topic all the time but if you visit him in his office hours once, he’ll remember and be more lenient on the research report. I can send you my notes, too, if you want.” 

She smiles even wider. “Really?” 

You nod, your brain sliding around your skull with the movement—not a good sign, only five shots into the challenge. 

The music changes, a Britney Spears song that Donghyuck must have slipped into the rotation. The girl’s friend drags her up to dance before you get the chance to ask for her name. 

Dancing sounds like so much fun, until you stand up and realize that you’ve been hydrated too well. Your bladder announces its need for attention much like the maintenance worker that fixed the leak in your shower—loud and last minute. 

You push your way through the people crowded at the edge of the room, making your way to the hallway where the bedrooms and, more importantly, bathroom are. You pass by a semi-familiar face flirting with a girl from Renjun’s study group, but your bladder gives no time for your brain to make connections of recognition, let alone time to wave. 

Finally, you break the crowd, ignoring the couple making out concerningly close to Donghyuck’s bedroom door (something you like to call “not my problem”). All your focus is on the door to the bathroom, a piece of lined notebook paper taped on with RESTROOM scribbled in marker. Just as you reach for the handle, the door swings inwards. 

You might have caught yourself, two or three shots ago. Instead you tumble forward, the floor coming to meet you fast. And then you aren’t. 

“We have got to stop meeting like this,” Jaemin says, laughing. He caught you by the elbows, your face pressed into his chest. He helps you straighten up, though he doesn’t let go of your arms. 

“Jaemin.” You grin at him. 

He tilts his head. “You’re drunk.”  

“You’re pretty,” you say. Jaemin tilts his head and smiles at you. Endearing. Endearing, that Jaemin has an amused expression on his face. Like he is endeared by you. How funny. 

But he really is pretty. He must be hot in the leather jacket, loose over his broad shoulders. Yes, those broad shoulders. He’s hot too. But first, he’s pretty. His black hair falls just above his eyes, loosely split down the middle, framing the perfect angles of his face–the perfect line of his nose, gentle curve of his cheekbones, that jawline–and of course those lips. Perfect lips. 

Jaemin leans closer. “You’re prettier.” 

You burst into laughter, stopping only when you snort. “You almost sound serious.” 

Jaemin doesn’t say anything else, still smiling at you, only a couple inches of space between you. Ignoring those lips this close is impossible. They’re the prettiest shade of pink, and he must have put on lip balm–or maybe it’s the lighting–because they glow. What do they feel like? They have to be soft—you’d bet everything in your pocket (if these pants had pockets) he tastes sweet. Like a fruit, a yummy, juicy fruit, dripping with juice, which reminds you—pee. 

You push past Jaemin, into the bathroom. “Need to pee.” 

He catches his hand on the door before you can close it, frowning a little. “You’re not going to slip and crack your head open?” 

“Nope,” you say. “Really need to pee.” He lets go of the door and you slam it shut, using one hand on the counter to steady yourself while you fumble with the lock. After an eternity, you finally get to the toilet, which, despite the number of people crowded in a house of two college guys, isn’t totally disgusting. 

Two minutes, an empty bladder, and clean hands later, you push the door open. Your balance has improved just enough for you to feel confident in your ability not to die on the dance floor—and with perfect timing because Break Your Heart by Taio Cruz just started playing. You find Donghyuck in the middle of the room and join him, grinning when he cheers. 

Renjun appears halfway through the next song, shots in hand. More of the tequila ends up on the ground than in your stomach by the time you knock it back but Renjun shouts, “Six!” anyways. 

Another 2000s hit plays (it’s definitely Chenle’s playlist, which reminds you that you haven’t seen him in a while) and you get Renjun to stay on the dance floor for the full song. It’s hot and sweaty and you wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world. 

Donghyuck cheers again, hyping up the people that join your little circle. You turn to see Jeno, wearing a piece of fabric that technically could be called a shirt though it really looks like a hole for his head that’s completely open at the sides except for the ties at the bottom. Beside him, and right next to you, Jaemin grins at you. He throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you against his side. 

“And I was like baby, baby, baby, oh!” You shout along with the song, vaguely aware of the rest of the guys singing along—except for Jaemin, who waits for Ludacris’s verse to come in to rap it word for word. 

Renjun drags you away before the next song can start. “Number seven,” he shouts in your ear over the bass. 

“What about Donghyuck?” You glance behind you where he starts a full performance, an empty water bottle as a microphone. 

Renjun shrugs. “He’ll catch up.” 

You watch Renjun struggle to pour the tequila, holding the bottle with two hands off the edge of the counter to get the mouth as close to the paper shot cups as possible. You can’t see how much tequila actually makes it into the cups but it burns its way down, sending your stomach spinning. Only a third of the drinks you are supposed to take with him but you’re already questioning the next round. 

Renjun gets dragged away from you by some people you aren’t even sure are actually his friends, but you lose track of him when someone tugs on your hand. Jaemin, again. He lost his jacket at some point, wearing a shirt that matches Jeno’s, showing off his considerable arms. Even in the poor lighting from the strobe lights Donghyuck set up, you can see the definition in his biceps. 

Yeah, you’re definitely staring. 

Jaemin asks something but you can’t hear him over the music. You step closer, stumbling a little on your own feet. As always, he catches you, arm sliding around your waist. 

“How are you doing?” He shouts over the music. 

You grab his other forearm to keep yourself from falling over. “I’m so hungry.” 

Jaemin leans closer, lips brushing against your ear. “Wanna get out of here?” You raise your eyebrows at him and he grins. “The McDonald’s, across the street?” 

“I need French fries,” you say, letting go of his arm and spinning out of his embrace to face the door. He catches you before you can go too far (and fall on your face), looping his elbow through yours. 

As soon as the door closes behind you, everything falls silent. Not everything, because you can still hear the bass from inside the house, and cicadas sing, and the highway is close enough to hear the rumbling of engines passing by. But quiet falls in the space between you and Jaemin, a breath waiting to fall free. 

He doesn’t let go over your arm, using his other hand to brace the three steps in front of Donghyuck and Renjun’s place. He leans on you as much as you lean on him, magnets stuck to each other, except magnets don’t struggle to stay upright crossing an empty street. Maybe if they could get drunk. 

The street light flickers above you, crackling electricity. You can feel Jaemin’s bare arm against yours, firm muscle held taut. You peek at the boy beside you, his head tilted to the sky. Pretty. You won’t say it again for fear of being repetitive, but it’s the right word for this moment. Not just Jaemin, but the chilly night air, the faulty light above you fighting with the neon lights to illuminate your breath. You’ll blame the alcohol in the morning, but tonight it’s all pretty. 

Jaemin swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and he turns to meet your eyes. It’s definitely the alcohol but you don’t look away. 

The crosswalk changes to the white man, beeping at you to cross the street. You tear your eyes away from him, settling for clinging to his arm to make it past the striped crosswalk illuminated by headlights. 

You’re hardly the only drunk couple at McDonald’s. Jaemin notices you limping a little and drops you off in a booth, stumbling on his own to order. You must have done something dancing, though you don’t remember anything hurting. Your ankle hurts now, so you lean your head into your elbow and watch Jaemin’s back. 

The fluorescent lights can’t make him look sickly. They show his arms in their full glory, open sides revealing enough of his body to make you self-conscious. The hint of a farmer’s tan dusts his arms, shoulders just a shade lighter than his forearms. Where did he get that from? 

So many questions about him. So much to know. So little you do know but you like him so much it gets so hard to tell. What matters. 

Jaemin puts his wallet into his back pocket, turning around and smiling when he meets your gaze. He slides into the seat across from you. “Potatoes are incoming.” 

“Do you know what persimmons taste like?” 

“What?” His brow furrows, a cute frown that makes you forget what you’d asked. 

“Never mind,” you mumble. Opening your mouth any more around him is a dangerous game—you aren’t quite sure what will spill out. 

He reaches out to tap his finger on your arm. Like the sun, being in his atmosphere makes everything warmer, his touch boiling your skin. The heat flows through your body, each cell vibrating with the need for something. 

“You feeling okay?” 

It takes considerable concentration to work past his finger, which has graduated to drawing shapes, and answer him. “Renjun wanted to do twenty-one shots for his birthday but seven is beyond enough.” 

Jaemin whistles. “Is Renjun going to survive tonight?” 

“Probably not,” you mumble. “That opens up a council position. You could be a good social media person. Your face is pretty enough.” 

“Is that the only requirement for student council?” Jaemin asks. “Being pretty?” 

“You can’t be a poli-sci major either,” you say, “which you pass. It helps that you’re smart, and kind. I like people that are smart and kind.” 

“That’s a low bar,” Jaemin says. “What else do you like?” 

“Hm…” Your voice rumbles, a funny feeling in the back of your throat. You hum for a little longer before you remember Jaemin asked you a question. What do you like? 

“Sharks. They’re much cooler than dolphins. And potatoes, I love potatoes. I like Renjun. And Donghyuck. And Mark, even though he’s a poli-sci major. I like Chenle and Jisung. They might be my favorite people.” And you. I like you so much I don’t know how to say it. 

“What about doctors?” Jaemin leans closer, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Do you like doctors?” 

You lift your head up, pouting your lips at him. “Doctors have needles. I don’t like needles.” 

Jaemin laughs. “Even if the doctor is super rich?” 

“Rich? From taking all my money?” You cry. 

“Rich from saving people’s lives,” he says. “Like a neurosurgeon.” 

You squint at him, the blurriness of your eyelashes mixing with the blurriness of the alcohol and canceling out until his face becomes clear. “Are you actually pre-med because of Grey’s Anatomy?” 

Jaemin looks away, running a hand to the back of his neck. “Maybe.” His biceps are almost enough to distract you from his admission. Almost. 

“Oh my god.” You can’t hold back the giggles, trying to cover your mouth with your hand. Tears prick at your eyes and you gasp for breath, stomach twisting the alcohol with the giggles and turning over itself until you aren’t sure if you’re starving or need to throw up. 

“It’s a perfectly respectable career!” Jaemin says. 

“You want to be Patrick Dempsey?” You say between giggles. “Not even McSteamy?” 

“Hey, he’s—wait, you watch it too?” 

You shrug. “It’s fun.” 

“Then how are you making fun of me!” He cries. 

“I didn’t go into medicine because of it!” 

Before he can say anything else, the workers shout a number. He glances at the receipt and shoots you a glare without a drop of malice in his eyes and leaves. 

Jaemin being silly. Jaemin bickering with you. Hard to believe that even two weeks ago, you never would have believed he watched children’s shows in class and chose his profession because of a soap opera. Jaemin who keeps surprising you, who makes you want to believe that maybe he’s from the same planet as you after all. 

He brandishes the brown paper bag in front of him like treasure. What does it matter that you’re grinning because of him and not the golden treats inside?

“For you,” he says, setting the bag in front of you and tilting it on its side so you can reach inside for the fries. “I didn’t know what sauce, so I fought… Okay, maybe flirted with the worker, but the important part is that I got one of each.” He pauses glancing at you. “Which apparently you don’t need.” 

“So good,” you say, eating them properly: no sauce, just freshly fried golden perfection. You look up to find Jaemin smiling at you… fondly? Is that what’s in his eyes? 

“What?” 

He shakes his head. “You’re just cute.” 

You stare at him, fry halfway to your mouth. He looks down, the tips of his ears tinted red as he grabs a fry and dips it in honey mustard. 

The rest of your time at McDonald’s is dedicated to properly enjoying the French fries and not at all sneaking glances at Jaemin sneaking glances at you. You finish the fries long before the swirly feeling in your stomach goes away. The butterflies must be drunk too. 

“Back to Renjun’s?” Jaemin asks, standing up and extending a hand for you to take. The most dangerous handhold of your life. You don’t think twice about taking it. 

“Mm, I’m pretty tired,” you say, “and Renjun was pretty adamant about the twenty-one shots thing. If we go back, he won’t let me go until one of us is in the hospital.” Walking is easy when Jaemin lets you lean on his shoulder. Standing just outside the McDonald’s, your shadows stretch ten times as tall as you, the lines between you and Jaemin undefined. 

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t worried about him?” 

“He swore to send Donghyuck to the grave before him, he’ll be fine,” you say, “plus Jisung is there, sober. They’ll be fine.” 

“And you?” 

“I’ll be fine when I get home.” You tilt your head up from his shoulder only for him to look down at you, his nose brushing against yours. Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding. But you don’t move away and neither does he. 

“Take me home?” 

He doesn’t move for a heartbeat, eyes flickering to your lips. Then he turns his head straight, patting your head with his free hand a couple times. “Okay.” 

You whisper directions, a ten minute walk from Renjun’s place. The walk home is considerably less stumbly, your balance recovered halfway through the fries. You cling to Jaemin’s arm anyway, more afraid of letting him go than falling. 

The building appears far too quickly, Jaemin pushing open the glass doors and walking you to the elevators. You don’t dare say a word to break the silence as the elevator dings to the third floor. He waits until you reach your door to disentangle himself from you, standing with the tips of his sneakers a millimeter away from yours, catching your hands in his. 

“Goodnight, YN,” he says. 

No. This isn’t the time for goodnight, not when every atom in your body might explode if he takes a step away. You tighten your fingers around his. 

“Do you want to come in?” You ask. “See my apartment?” 

He tilts his head, a little frown creasing his brow. “Okay.” 

You fumble with your keys, hands shaking when you open the door. Emotions swirl around you, making it difficult to tell the difference between excitement and anxiety, if it exists. Calling the place an apartment is a bit of a stretch. Glorified broom closet is your preferred term–a bed shoved against the far wall with a tiny window next to it, desk tucked in next to it like a puzzle piece without enough space for a chair, a door for your bathroom, directly next to the “kitchen” of a stovetop oven and sink, and a closet that barely fits your coats.

Beyond being tiny, you left the place a mess, second, third, and fourth contenders for outfits strewn on your bed, unwashed dishes in the sink. The entryway is the only space for the two of you to stand together comfortably but you lead Jaemin farther in, balling up the clothes and tossing them into your hamper underneath the bed. 

“I don’t normally have company,” you explain. 

“It’s okay,” he says, “my room’s a mess too.” He picks up the pink teddy bear from your bed and smiles. “A gift?” 

You shake your head. “Bought it myself for surviving sophomore year.” You pull the great white shark out from beneath a blanket. “Freshman year.” 

“Cute,” Jaemin says, still looking at the bear. 

You follow Jaemin as he wanders the tiny room. He pauses at a framed picture of the student council that sits on your desk. It was a gift from last year’s graduating cabinet, the whole group, president, appointed cabinet, unofficial members, and the fresh-terns, fifteen people in total. 

“That one’s my ex,” you say, the word still strange in your mouth. “If you count two weeks as even dating.” 

“The one in red?” 

You nod. 

Jaemin snorts. “I’m way hotter than him.” He sets the picture and turns, and suddenly only a couple inches of space separate him from you. This close, you can see exactly how pretty he is, long eyelashes that cannot be natural, even longer when he stares at his toes instead of meeting your eyes. And, this close, you can see the soft pink of his lips, lower lip jutting out just a tiny bit. 

Not drunk, not yet sober, it’s easy to lean a little closer, brush your lips softly against his. The kiss is over before you can think about it. 

You open your eyes to Jaemin staring at you, eyes wide, somewhere between disbelief and fear. You open your mouth to apologize but he moves faster, hand coming up to cup your face and pulling you closer until you kiss him again, your hand instinctively catching you against his chest. He links his fingers with your free hand, tugging you even closer to him. 

He moves slow at first, a gentle kiss that takes your breath away anyway. He pulls away when the stars flood your brain, smile boyish and sweet. His thumb strokes your cheek into the shape of a heart. Then he slides his hands to the back of your neck, letting go over your other hand to wrap around your waist and pull you against his chest. 

Jaemin knows how to kiss. He moves like it’s his last chance, desperate lips telling truths words can’t capture. And you might not have as much experience, but you understand the language of desperation. A never ending chain of fireworks explode within you, pushing you to wrap your arms around his neck, kiss him even harder. Your hands move on their own, tugging at the cloth of his shirt until he leans back, breathing heavily. 

“How far you want to go?” He asks, chest rising and falling with each breath. “You know consent is so sexy.” 

You laugh, giddiness making it difficult to think. “You have a condom?” 

Jaemin grins, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. He slips the shiny packet out, tossing his wallet to the floor along with his shirt. He gives you a proper amount of time to ogle his chest before tugging you against him again, your heart pounding so hard against him he must feel it. 

He tilts your head towards his until his lips brush against yours, and when he speaks, you feel every word. “Now where were we?” 

.

.

[Na Jaemin] sorry I had to go :( [Na Jaemin] wish I could have been there when you woke up  [Na Jaemin] but! I have a surprise [Na Jaemin] [image attached] [Na Jaemin] see you in the morning <3 

You blink at the message, a picture of him wearing a fuzzy headband in the middle of his skincare routine. Your head pounds a little, but otherwise your hangover isn’t too bad. Definitely not the worst it’s ever been. 

No, the strange feeling in your stomach is something else. Last night is burned into your memory, every move, every touch. Jaemin, who you fell asleep beside, though the timestamp on the texts show he didn’t stay much longer after. Not that you expected him to. It’s Jaemin, you remind your traitorous heart. No matter how much he flirts, no matter what he did drunk, he was never yours. 

Your phone rings, but it isn’t Jaemin. 

“Hey,” Renjun says. 

“You sound awful,” you say, throat aching. 

“You’re one to talk,” Renjun says, “and you didn’t even get to double digits. Donghyuck out-drank you.” 

“And how’s Donghyuck doing?” 

“Throwing up in the shower, it sounds like.” 

You laugh, the motion, sending your stomach spinning. “Happy birthday Renjun.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I actually did call for a reason.” 

“I am not helping with clean up,” you say, “Chenle swore he’d do all of it since he bailed on set up.” 

“Not that,” Renjun says. “I’ll be over as soon as I can walk without passing out.” He hangs up, leaving you to frown at the empty screen. 

Well, considering how late he got back, Jaemin probably won't be awake any time soon. You need to shower and rehydrate and try to convince your stomach to take something—and with how Renjun sounded over the phone, it seems like you’ll have plenty of time. 

An hour later, slightly burnt toast, and post-Advil, the headache is mostly gone. Your stomach still twists at the thought of Jaemin. You jump at the doorbell but find Renjun wearing a mismatched sweatsuit and his bright orange crocs, glasses nearly sliding off the bridge of his nose. He wears the hood of his sweatshirt up but you can see tufts sticking up. 

“God, did you shower?” You catch a whiff as he passes by, reeking of tequila. 

“I was serious about coming over as soon as possible.” He groans, collapsing on your bed. “I think I maybe came over too early though. Might need to throw up.” 

“Do you want toast?” You offer. 

He glares at you. “Just sit.” Renjun rarely speaks with patience but today he seems extra short on it. Maybe because of the hangover, but the way he glares at the carpet before turning to look at you makes you wonder if something else is wrong. His eyes soften a little when he meets your eyes, his frown lightening just barely. 

“I really wish I didn’t have to tell you this,” he begins. “Did you go out with Jaemin last night?”

“He… took me home,” you say. “What’s wrong Renjun?” 

“Last night—well—this morning, I met some guys from Sigma Nu, who are friends with Jeno and Jaemin,” he says, “who were talking about how Jaemin is going to be president. About how he’s messing around with the frontrunner, trying to distract them or fuck around, trying to take the presidency.” He falls quiet, studying your face. 

“He wouldn’t.” Your voice feels so small. 

He wouldn’t, you said, but you can’t even convince yourself. Your heart flounders, drowning in a lake of its own creation, choking on fantasies. Your brain takes control in the chaos, gears turning despite the crashing waves. Facts don’t need oxygen. 

1) Jaemin approached you about the presidency first 

2) he pretended not to know you were running 

3) he’s known for hooking up with anyone 

4) he never belonged in your world 

The conclusion is obvious, a conclusion you could have come to much sooner if you weren’t too busy getting swept off your feet by his easy flirting and sweet smile. Though your heart doesn’t want to believe it, it makes too much sense. So much more sense than the hope you were stupid enough to believe in. Jaemin isn’t that type. How many of your friends told you that? How many times did you tell yourself that? But you let him hurt you anyway because he held your hand and called you cute. How quickly a fruit can rot when it sits in the palm of your hand. 

Jaemin doesn’t exist a universe away–he lives in your world, worse than a cliche. The type of boy that made you want to believe in him, even when you knew better from the start, and maybe that’s the worst part. He never hid who he was, what he wanted. It’s you that wanted more, that believed he could want something more. How pitiful. 

“I’m sorry,” Renjun says softly. “I wanted him to be different.” 

“Did you? Because everyone was telling me about how I needed to be careful, protect myself, not get hurt over him. Did any of you consider that I didn’t ever expect anything from him?” You shake your head. “No, you all thought poor little YN, getting their feet swept out from under themself over a boy that doesn’t give a shit about them? A boy that’s actively trying to stop them from achieving a dream they’ve had since they started college? Well, guess what? You all were right. Congratulations.” You bite your lip trying to hold back the tears but it’s too late. 

“I’m sorry,” Renjun repeats. He pats your arm, looking away when you swipe at your eyes. He waits for you to take a shaky breath, hand on your arm. You grab the teddy bear, trying not to hear Jaemin calling it cute. 

“I slept with him.” The admission burns its way up your throat. “Last night.” You sigh. “You don't have to tell me I’m an idiot.” 

“Okay, I wasn’t going to say that,” Renjun throws his arm over your shoulders. “Though I’m kind of regretting sitting on the bed.” He scoots a little forward but squeezes your shoulder. “You’re going to do things you regret, there’s no stopping it.” 

“Why do you always have to be right? Why am I exclusively attracted to shitty men?” Your chin digs into the innocent bear, jaw tightening. “Why can’t I just like a boy that likes me?” 

“Do you think maybe you liked him too much?” Renjun asks gently. “Like maybe you liked the idea of him more than Jaemin himself.” He pauses, squeezing your arm. “Don’t let a boy that isn’t real hurt you.” 

You lean into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder. “But he was real. Sweeter than persimmon. Like a strawberry. Or a mango.” 

“Okay, I’m not understanding.” 

“I thought he was a persimmon, a magic fruit I could imagine tasting sweet or sour or tart but he’s real and even though his flavor isn’t a mystery, it’s better than what I could have imagined. Like taking a bite of a pineapple and it’s the best pineapple you’ve ever had, juicy and sweet.”

“Okay first of all, that’s a terrible metaphor, please stop talking about how he tastes or I will throw up,” Renjun says. “Also persimmons are real.” 

“I know that,” you snap, “but I’ve never had one, so they’re magic to me.” You stare ahead, grateful Renjun knows when you just need a little bit of time to work up the courage to say what you need to say. “I’m saying you are right. I didn’t really like him, not at first. But it’s worse than that because when I did get to know him, it was so much better. He wasn’t a dream, he was a boy who watches Grey’s Anatomy and does skincare even after a night of partying.

“I know it makes more sense, that his flirting wasn’t real, that he was never really interested in me. But nothing real about him makes sense, and I want to believe in him, still.” You purse your lips. “Pretty pathetic, huh?” 

“You really liked him,” Renjun says, “that won’t just go away.” 

“That would be too easy,” you mutter. 

Renjun laughs. “You’re going to be fine. There are so many better men.” 

“That’s what you said last time,” you say. 

“And I was right,” Renjun says, “Jaemin is better than last time. Marginally. At least he isn’t a poli-sci major.” 

You snort. 

“See, you’re already laughing at him.” Renjun pushes you off his shoulder, standing up and groaning. “Now, I’m going to throw up in your bathroom, and then we can watch dumb action movies until your brain rots. The rest of the guys are supposed to come over, though I think Donghyuck is still throwing up.” 

You bury your face into the bear. “Does everyone know?” 

Renjun pauses. “The guys from this morning were sort of proud to be the ones to tell us.” 

You groan. The door to your bathroom closes but you barely hear it. You clutch the bear a little tighter, as if the fluff could break through your chest and fill the spilling hole in your heart. 

It would be too easy to blame Jaemin, to pretend like none of the pain is from your own stupidity. But you already told Renjun. You knew it from the start. 

Knocking at the door, a knock that means only one person. You wipe the tears from your eyes and take a deep breath that does nothing to steady your heart. 

“God, I was afraid I was waking you up.” Jaemin starts talking as soon as you open the door. He holds up a bag, a tray with two iced coffees and a hot cup. He looks unfairly good and, of course, he grins at you. “I wasn’t entirely sure what your hangover cure is, so I got hot and iced coffee, and there’s a breakfast sandwich and a donut and also these potato things, I really wasn’t sure what you’d like, but–” 

“Did you know that I was running for president?” 

Jaemin freezes, frown slowly curling his brow. “What are you–”

“Just answer the question.” You grip the door handle, knuckles turning white. 

He pauses a moment too long. “It’s not like that.” 

“Never talk to me again.” You fight the urge to slam the door, but your neighbors don’t have to suffer your wrath. You shake your head, “I can’t believe I fell for your bullshit.” 

Jaemin opens his mouth but you close the door, sliding the deadlock as hard as you can. He has the audacity to try to explain himself. If you didn’t want to hear him out so badly, you might laugh. Instead you turn your back on the door, sliding down it until you can rest your head on your knees and sob. 

.

.

Jaemin makes it halfway down the aisle of seats on Tuesday before you turn to Renjun, panic and tears in your eyes. He glares at Jaemin so hard he freezes in his tracks and doesn’t try again. He doesn’t look at you in class, not even a peek. On Thursday, he walks straight to his seat. 

.

.

Chenle doesn’t bother to throw his packages into the recycling after opening them. He says he’s hanging onto them to make moving out easier, but really he’s just too lazy to break them down. You have to step around them to get into his apartment, since he thought it would be fun to make an obstacle course out of them. Navigating these sober is hard enough, you have no idea how he makes it to bed after a night out. 

But today, it’s worth it. It’s been two weeks since you cut off Jaemin, a month since the day you bumped into him in class (a month and three days but who’s counting?). He doesn’t look at you anymore. You haven’t fully escaped him–every once in a while you’ll hear his laugh from the other side of the lecture room. The sound still stabs between your ribs, a wound turned new each time you hear it. But it cuts a little more shallow each time. One day you won’t feel it at all. 

And today, Chenle got a puppy. 

She cries before you make it over the baby gate in Chenle’s room. A tiny ball of white fluff bounds toward you, tripping over her own feet. 

“Hi baby!” Your voice automatically rises three pitches looking at her. “Aren’t you just adorable!” You crouch down, letting her jump on your knees. She won’t sit still long enough to be pet, sprinting around your feet, then back to Chenle sitting on the floor, back resting against his bed. 

“Hi to you, too,” Chenle says pointedly. 

“Hi Chenle,” you turn back to his puppy. “And hello puppy!” 

“Her name is Daegal,” he says. You can hear him rolling his eyes. “‘Cause she’s got a big ass head.” 

“Chenle is so mean to you!” You coo at the puppy at your feet. “But that’s okay, I’ll take good care of you. You can come home with me!” 

“You hear that baby?” Chenle says. “YN wants to pay me $1000 to take care of you!” 

You stare at him. “Did you seriously adopt a $1000 puppy?” 

He shrugs. “She’s really cute.” 

“You’re insane.” Daegal settles down enough to let you pat her head. 

“I invite you into my home for some much needed puppy love and this is how you treat me?” Chenle sighs. “To think that I felt bad for you, that I told you about her before anyone else. This is how I get treated for my kind heart.” 

“I don’t need your pity,” you say. Daegal licks your hand. 

“It’s not pity.” He pauses. “Well I guess it is pity, but you’re also my friend YN. Believe it or not, watching you live the sad boy lifestyle over some dude, again, is not fun. I’d much rather watch you being happy with my puppy.” 

“You’re the one who brought it up,” you mutter. 

Chenle claps his hands, making Daegal jump. “But that does remind me, everyone has been too much of a coward to ask, but I’ve heard from tertiary sources about his reputation, but I’d love a first hand account.” 

“What are you talking about?” You eye him. 

“How was the sex?” 

“You’re seriously asking me that?” 

He shrugs. “Well, yeah.” 

You pick up Daegal, staring at her instead of Chenle. She wiggles her tail, then her paws, so you set her back down. “I’m not answering that.” 

Chenle narrows his eyes, studying you. “That means it was good.” 

“That’s not at all what I said.” 

“And yet you’re not denying it.” 

“Please shut the fuck up.” 

For once he listens. With Renjun, silence means peace–he doesn’t say anything that doesn’t matter. When Chenle doesn’t speak, it means he has something to say and he isn’t sure how to say it. You peek up at him and your suspicions are confirmed. He chews on his lip, frowning at you. 

“Just tell me.” 

Chenle purses his lips. “He dropped out.” 

“Of school?” 

He rolls his eyes. “The election.” 

You stare at him. “Seriously?” 

“He hasn’t touched his application since Renjun’s birthday and Donghyuck said yesterday he emailed and said he wasn’t going forward with it.” He doesn’t say anything about how technically you should be checking the email. 

“But it doesn’t make any sense.” 

Chenle shrugs. “I’m just telling you what I was told.” He stands up. “Now! How much do you like cleaning up dog pee?” 

You glance down at Daegal, who squats in the middle of the room, a dark stain on the carpet beneath her. Chenle tosses you some paper towels and a can of Febreeze. 

“Why am I cleaning up after your dog?” 

“Because you tried to steal her,” he says, “and I’ve already done this three times today and I’m really sick of it.” 

You shake your head but pull off a paper towel and press it into the stain. 

“We’re going out tomorrow night, by the way,” Chenle says. “And you’ve passed two weekends in a row so you’ve hit a cap for the month. You have to come with, no ‘buts.’” 

Apparently the grace period of pity is over. Whatever, it’ll be nice to do something other than hiding in your room watching Powerpuff Girls. And maybe you will see him. Maybe you’ll get an answer to the giant question mark that’s lodged itself in your heart when Chenle told he dropped out. Maybe the little caterpillar of hope that’s survived these past few weeks can metamorphize. 

And maybe he’ll break your heart again. But you won’t get any answers daydreaming. 

.

.

How Renjun can still drink Tequila, you truly do not understand. Ever since his birthday, the thought of it makes your stomach flip, and you didn’t even drink that much. But he sips on the margarita, insisting it doesn’t taste like alcohol. 

“It’s disgusting,” you say, pushing it closer to him. “I am not drinking this.” 

He rolls his eyes. “You do realize the whole gimmick of this place is all their drinks are made with tequila, right?” 

“No one told me that!” You glare at Chenle, who showed up at your door at exactly 8:00pm and dragged you to the bar. “For the record, I would have pre-gamed. But I guess I can be the babysitter tonight.” 

Chenle cheers. “Donghyuck, you’re back in! YN is babysitting!” 

Your drink slides down the table to Donghyuck, interrupting whatever ‘conversation’ he was having with Jisung. 

“I thought the whole point of dragging you out was to make you have fun,” he says. 

“You better be fun, then,” you say. 

Donghyuck raises his eyebrows but eventually take a long sip. “Brain freeze!” He cries, clutching his forehead. You laugh with the rest of the guys. It’s almost normal, except you can’t help but peek at the door whenever somebody walks in. 

The night passes and the guys get more drunk. The bar gets more crowded–soon you are squished between Renjun and Chenle, barely able to breathe as the music slowly gets louder. The tequila looks more and more appealing but the guys need at least one person sober to make it back alive: Chenle arm wrestles a stranger while Donghyuck has some poor soul cornered, practicing his pick up lines. 

When Chenle loses, you push past him, muttering something about fresh air that they probably can’t hear. You push through the crowd of drunk people, trying not to remember the last time you did this. 

You squint at the steps, edges difficult to see with so little light. Who builds a bar on the second floor of a building? You make it to the final step but misjudge how close it is and your foot slips off the edge, sending you tumbling forward. You might have caught yourself, but you don’t have to—strong arms catch you mid fall, wrapping around your waist and swinging you clean off the stairs and onto solid ground. You aren’t surprised at all to look into Jaemin’s eyes as he lets go. 

He frowns at you, eyes so dark they look black. Maybe it’s the lack of light, but the twinkle in his eyes, the glint you’ve come to recognize as trouble, is missing. 

“Hi,” you say. 

He drops his arms, stuffing his hands into his back pockets. “So you’re talking to me now?” 

An apology begins on your lips but you can’t push it out. Not when you still don’t understand. “Can we talk?” 

He glances at you. “Have you been drinking?” 

You shake your head.  

“Okay.” He doesn’t walk away, folding his arms over his chest. 

When you imagined this conversation, the sun shined so that you could see the warmth in his eyes. He smiled at you, called you silly for ever doubting him. The Jaemin in your head wouldn’t ever do something to hurt you. 

But Jaemin doesn’t exist in your head–it’s far past time you learned that. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have just cut you off. But I thought… I don’t know what I thought, let alone what I think now.” You force yourself to meet his cold eyes, searching for a hint of warmth. “Chenle told me you dropped out of the presidency.” 

He nods slowly. 

“But Renjun told me that someone told him that the presidency is the only reason you ever pretended to like me, but if you dropped out then I really don’t get it. Not that I ever got it in the first place, though, because you’re you and I’m me, and everyone kept telling me that, like I didn’t already know that you are supposed to be a persimmon and grow on a tree far far away from my lemon or pomegranate or whatever kind of fruit I am, because the point is we were never meant to be.” You take a deep breath, realizing that you don’t exactly sound sane. “What I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t make sense. It made sense when you were trying to cheat me out of the presidency, but you dropped out. And it doesn’t make sense.” 

Jaemin blinks slowly at you. “You would rather believe that I was trying to rob your presidency than that I actually like you?” 

“Do you?” 

He frowns. “Of course I do. I like you so much I think about things I’ve never wanted before, the silly shit–watching horror movies as an excuse to cuddle, having picnics by the river, buying groceries together–I wanted to do all of it with you. 

“You talk a lot about how we’re different people—who gives a shit? If I’m the type of person that wants to be with you and you’re the type of person that wants to be with me, why does any of that matter?” He takes a step closer to you, and you can see you were wrong. His eyes aren’t cold, they’re full of emotion, dark waves of hurt. “What do I have to do to prove it to you? Should I tell you how pretty you are? How incredibly smart you are—not fake smart like me, but really smart. And when I’m around you, I like who I am. I know it’s cheesy but you bring out the best in me. 

“I know I fucked up. I should have told you how I felt before anything else, and I shouldn’t have left. I regretted it as soon as I was gone but it was terrifying to lay next to you and give you my bare heart, even when I didn’t think you would ever try to hurt me.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if it hurts more thinking that you never wanted a relationship or thinking that I’d ever stoop that low. I mean, everyone tells me about my reputation, but I didn’t think you cared about any of that.” 

Tears prick at your eyes. How could you be such an idiot? Listening to all the wrong people, especially yourself. Jaemin doesn’t exist in another world, he isn’t any kind of fruit. He’s a boy that you like that likes you back. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching a tentative hand out to rest against his arm. “I’m so sorry.” He drops his head, sighing. “I was an idiot.” 

He sighs, staring at your hand. You start to drop it but he grabs it, squeezing your fingers. “Where do we go from here?” 

You study him, eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. Jaemin who is not a fruit, not an alien, just a boy. 

“Hey.” You reach out and cup his cheek, waiting for him to meet your eyes. “My name is YN. I think you’re really cute.” 

For a heartbeat he doesn’t move. Then he smiles, cheek rising underneath your hand. “Hey, my name is Jaemin. I think you’re really cute too.” 

“Oh really?” You slide your hand to the back of his neck, wrapping your other arm across it. His arms wrap on your waist, pulling you into a hug. He squeezes you flush against him, head tucked into your shoulder just as yours is tucked into his. 

“I know we can’t start over,” he says, “but can we start again?” 

“How about this time we just talk to each other?” You say, tapping your fingers on his shoulder. “No more rumors and gossip.” 

He nods, chin digging into your neck a little. “I swear, I won’t give you any reason to doubt me ever again. I won’t be the kind of guy your friends call a red flag.” 

You loosen your grip and lean back to look him in the eye. “Wait, did they seriously say that to you?” 

“I ran into Donghyuck after I dropped out and we had a very… one sided conversation with his side doing all the talking,” Jaemin says, “and Renjun made it obvious from the start that he didn’t like me.” 

You laugh a little, then even more when he pouts. “You’ll win them over again.” 

“They really don’t like me,” he says. 

You cup his cheek again. “You’ll change their minds.” He leans into your touch, closing his eyes. You lean forward, resting your forehead against his. He gasps a little, hands tightening on your waist. 

“Now, am I remembering incorrectly, or are you an amazing kisser?” You ask. 

He grins, leaning forward and closing the distance without wasting a second. Neither of you can stop smiling, lips and teeth gnashing together but it’s still the best kiss you’ve ever had. 

.

.

You stretch an arm out, only to find more bed instead of empty space. You sit up, shivering as the blanket falls away. Right, you fell asleep in Jaemin’s bed. His room is much bigger than yours, sharing an apartment with Jeno. He has enough room for a dresser and a nicer desk, even a chair. It seems he lied to you about being messy, because even when you show up unannounced, like today, his clothes are neatly folded and the biggest mess you’ve found has been three dirty dishes in the sink (which you later found out were Jeno’s). 

Jeno, apparently, isn’t all bad–he did let you in even though your boyfriend was still out. He doesn’t fully trust you, but then again, your friends don’t hide their mistrust of Jaemin either. You maintain your earlier stance that time will heal that wound. 

You hear a knife against a cutting board coming from the kitchen, so you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and shuffle towards the sound, unable to stop the smile from spreading up your lips when you turn the corner and find Jaemin standing at the counter. He glances behind him and grins at you, and even though you just woke up from a nap and probably have messy hair and marks on your face, he says, “you look sexy.” 

“So cheesy,” you say. He laughs and turns back around. You slip behind him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his back and closing your eyes. He radiates warmth better than any blanket. It’s too easy to lean against him, take a deep breath of the scent of his laundry detergent and cling to him. Jaemin moves slowly, careful not to hit you by accident. 

“What’re you doing?” 

“A surprise,” he says, “at least my attempt at one.” He sets down the knife on the counter and taps on your hands, pulling them apart gently and spinning around to face you before setting your hands back on his waist. He tilts his head at you when you purse your lips and frown. “What’s wrong?” 

“Still no ass,” you say, patting him a little lower than his waist. 

“Hey!” He sticks his lower lip out. “I’m trying.” 

“No one’s perfect,” you say, sliding your hands back up and sneaking a kiss to his cheek. 

“You are,” he says, cupping your face to kiss you properly. Jaemin still kisses like it’s his last chance, drawing out every moment, lips lingering on yours until your head spins. It’s only when you can’t breathe that he finally pulls away.  

“Good answer,” you say. 

He smiles. “If you come to the gym with me I’d be more motivated to get an ass you’d be proud of.” 

“You send enough pictures for me to know that if I saw you at the gym I would never survive,” you say. “You want me to die?” 

He laughs, squishing your face together with his hands. “If anyone’s going to die, it’s going to be me, because you are too cute.” 

He presses another kiss to your lips, still squished together in a pout. He laughs at the outrage on your face, letting go of your cheeks and slipping his hands behind your neck, kissing you one more time for real, letting go far too early. 

“The surprise,” he says. He lets go of you with one arm, turning to the cutting board and holding up a slice of what he was cutting. It looks a little bit like a tomato, though it’s more orange than red, and about the size of a golf ball. 

“A persimmon?” 

“I still don’t really get the persimmon thing,” he says, “but I’ve never tried one.” 

You blink at him. Jaemin makes it so easy to fall in love. He holds the piece closer to your mouth, waiting for you to open. A persimmon tastes sweet and mild and rich, a little bit like honey. Jaemin eats his own piece, frowning and nodding. 

“No more magical mystical fruit,” Jaemin says. 

“You’re going to make an amazing trophy husband,” you say. You tap him on the nose. “Maybe we could even be a power couple.” 

He grins. “We’ll be so cool. Like Beyoncé and her husband.” 

“Jay-Z?”

“Whatever.” Jaemin flips his hand. “The important part is that I am Beyoncé.” 

You smack his shoulders softly. “Hell no, Beyoncé would never have a flat ass.” 

“It always comes back to the ass.” He sighs. “Be honest: are you embarrassed by me?” 

Once you never thought he could be embarrassing. That was before you knew he staked his career on a soap opera and wears jorts to the gym, before he called you drunk just to confess he accidentally stole your pencil, before he spent three hours putting up campaign posters for you (and then another two getting written up by campus police for not having permission). Before you fell in love with him. 

“By you? Never.” You pat his cheeks. “Your ass leaves much to be desired, though.” 

thank you for reading!

#tbr

[faesficfix]

at your earliest convenience

✩‌ haechan x reader | fluff | 1.3k

SUMMARY | in which haechan is always your one (and annoying) late-night customer at the 24/7 convenience store you work at and one evening, he forgets his wallet. in lieu of payment, he asks if he can take you out on a date instead. // part of the connection series

WARNINGS | slightly insecure reader, none really!

RATING | teen+

AUTHOR'S NOTE | please check out (and maybe send in some prompt requests) @nctpromptmeme!

You ring him up, like clockwork. 

The scanner picks up a bag of the Korean brand onion rings, two Red Bulls, and an instant noodle cup.  

He’s the only consistent man in your life, ignoring the fact that the sole reason why he’s in your life is because he always comes into the 24/7 convenience store you work at during late, sometimes ungodly, hours. Tonight, it’s not that bad: 1:53am. 

Rarely, no one else strolls in during your shift (and you’re grateful it’s a safe neighbourhood). 

However, this young man lives to make your shift a painful one. 

Usually with ruffled hair, transparent-framed glasses, and a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, he saunters in as if he owns the store, often swinging his keys or obnoxiously whistling along to the song playing in the background. From the moment he steps into the store, his existence alone irks you. 

Unsurprisingly, he then takes a solid ten minutes on average (yes, you’ve timed it) to buy his items. Whistling evolves into screeches or emphatic oohs and aahs. Sometimes, he even narrates the entire process, as if he's the main character in a show. And yet, despite it all, he ends up buying the same rotation of his favourite items. 

If not the onion rings, the shrimp crackers. If not the Red Bulls, the bottles of Monster instead. He may be grabbing one cup of noodles tonight, but other times it’s three. Potentially even a completely different brand, if he’s feeling adventurous.   

On that note, predictability is in his nature. You plead internally for him to live a little, to maybe even spice up his night with a little change, for crying out loud. Heck, maybe even change the grey or black t-shirt he always wears to a shade that’s not a neutral tone or to put on a jacket for once. 

And the cherry on top is the constant annoying smirk he flashes when you tell him his total. 

You want to punch it off his face, smear it across the shiny floors with the dirty mop water you use at the beginning and end of shift.  

“How are you doing tonight, gorgeous?” he asks. Sometimes gorgeous is replaced with beautiful or cutie. It only adds to his annoyance of regularity and you have an itch he does this all the time with others, making you not take his typical endearing terms seriously.  

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “I’m not gorgeous, but, as always, thank you for the compliment.” 

His smirk melts, and you catch yourself feeling a tinge of something as his features soften. 

“You are, though,” your regular says. You quickly glance up, wondering if that pout and look in his eyes are genuine. “You know that I call you gorgeous because I mean it, right?” 

You’re unsure how to react, so you give a small nod and repeat the total, softly this time.

There’s a beat when the man gets lost in thought, but the moment quickly fades. He reaches into his sweatpants. However, he stops abruptly, before he reaches in again and pats the outside of his other pockets. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. You realize two things: one, you’ve never heard him curse; and two, he doesn’t have his wallet.

Well, that surely is different than usual.

Instinctively, you pull the snacks toward you. 

“Don’t you dare think I’m letting you walk away with everything for free,” you say, half-jokingly. Even though you’re 80% certain you can trust him, you still don’t know what he’s like.  

He smiles sweetly, quite differently than his smirks, forcing you to admit he’s handsome (just a little). “How could you expect me to stoop that low?” he whine-asks, clutching his chest in pain. 

After a moment of staring up at the ceiling in thought with his tongue running against his lower teeth, a Cheshire grin spreads over his face and he raises an eyebrow.

You don’t like it one bit and regret the moment earlier, mentally punching yourself for finding him a tiny bit attractive. 

“How about…”—he pauses as he rhythmically taps his fingers onto the counter—“...you let me take you out on a date in exchange for these items?” 

A scoff releases into the air. “Are you really telling me I’m only worth $11.87?” 

“What—no! Of course not,” he flicks a wrist upward in annoyance, then gestures to himself. “A date with me is worth way more in value, so you’ll be getting a better bargain.” 

You could not believe this guy. “Is a date with you really going to be worth it?” 

“Look,” he leans in over the counter and you catch a whiff of a light, woody scent. You fight off the desire to deeply inhale it. “No matter where we go or what happens, I’ll make sure you’ll be happy by the end of it. Isn’t that worth taking the risk of losing $11.87?” 

Squinting your eyes at him, while still clutching the goods he wants, you start to warm-up to the idea since you don’t have anything to lose (but maybe that’s due to the influence of his slightly intoxicating aura). 

“Will you choose the date location?” you ask, guarded.

He shakes his head. “Everything will be up to you and I’ll try to accommodate my schedule as best as I can.” 

You raise an eyebrow, challenging him. “And what if I want to go to the most expensive restaurant in town?”

Without hesitation, he nods. “Then we’ll go to the most expensive restaurant in town.” 

“If I wanted to order the $130 steak?” 

“$130 steak it is.” 

“If I—” 

The cute (you can’t deny it at this point) stranger cuts you off with a raise of his hand. God, you hate how cocky he is. 

Suddenly, he holds out a hand, sticking his pinky finger up. He waggles it, and you realize he’s waiting for you to do the same. You curl a pinky around his.

“There. I promise you—cross my heart and swear on my mother’s life—that I’ll uphold and adhere to whatever date conditions you ask of me.” He straightens, stepping away from the counter. “Now, can I please have my snacks and drinks?” 

The events of tonight took quite a turn. Never in a million years would you think Mr. Predictability would ask you out on a date, let alone be pretty sweet about it.  

Perhaps there’s more to him than you thought. 

You hand him your phone, and he does the same. 

When he gives it back, you shake your head at the text he sent and the name he gave himself.

“Hyuck?” you ask, unfamiliar with the name.  

“Short for Donghyuck, but yes, beautiful?”

You turn your phone towards him in disbelief. “What’s with the heart next to your name?” 

He shrugs, flashing you another smug smile. “What about it?”  

Glancing down at his phone, he beams. You wonder if it’s because you wrote the following in brackets after your name: You Owe Me a Date Worth More than $11.87. 

“And your name is just as beautiful as you are.” 

Again, another eye roll. You wonder if the date will be filled with more of it. You shove the stuff towards him. 

“I have to know: do those lines really work?”

“Well, I have a date lined up with you, so you tell me.” 

Before you have a chance to retort, he grabs something out from his pocket.

A wallet.

His motherfucking wallet, and he has the audacity to toss a $20 bill onto the counter with the same grin that you still want to wipe the floor with. Your jaw hangs. 

“Keep the change,” he says, along with your name and grants you a wink as he grabs his items. 

“I’ll be seeing you on our date soon, gorgeous.” 

#actually losing my mind that was so CUTE #he's such a little shit. #and would absolutely do this #hyuckie🥺 #haechan fluff

[faesficfix]

haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 1 of 2

wc: 22k (!!!!!!!) genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), fluff warnings: loss of virginity, very soft sex (hand-holding during sex), lots of kissing, protected sex, haechan fucks...a lot, fingering, oral (f receiving), very faint corruption kink, JEALOUSY, possessiveness (marking, signing on your body), handjob, car sex, cumplay, spit, exhibitionism (!), slight dumbification, slight degradation, titty-sucking etc, sweet aftercare a/n: i worked a lot on this and i really hope u like it.... i really hope it's hot... i hope u like rockstar haechan...please let me know what u think... (fic playlists)

he's been staring at you all night.

the bass thrums insistent in your chest, overriding your heartbeat, as you cling onto the barrier between the stage and the crowd. lights flash before your eyes, almost blinding you with how fast they blinked, and you can barely make out the faces of the boys onstage as they play their last song of the night. the air is damp, excitement riding high over the crowd in waves of endless screams that never seem to stop. 

and the boy on the far right, fingers moving deftly over the strings of his electric guitar, hasn't taken his eyes off you for the last five minutes. 

a sharp smile tugs at his lips, smokey makeup making his gaze ever more piercing as he looks down at you through his overgrown bangs, hairs at the nape of his neck unruly and wild. the lights throw the features of his face into high contrast, the tattoos curling on his neck and hip screaming for attention, as do the glint of jewelry scattered everywhere on his body. you feel smaller and smaller under his gaze, something lewd about the way he runs his tongue over his lips, eyes practically undressing you. he never seemed to stop moving his body as he played, bouncing on his toes or letting his body lean away from the sound, the music fuelling and becoming one with his movements as if he were a dancer.

as the music crashes and swells towards the end of his solo, his eyes slide over to yours with a practiced precision, as if he had memorized your position in the crowd. swaying his hips from side to side, his eyelids droop just slightly into a half-lidded stare, as he ruts his hips playfully against his guitar. 

the screams of the other fans are deafening, but you can hardly hear it over the rush of your heartbeat in your own ears.

haechan finally looks away, a small smile on his face as he signals to his bandmates towards the song's ending. you feel almost empty as the weight of his attention lifts off of you, pressing yourself up against the railing on tip-toe to try and catch his eye again before sinking down and feeling like an idiot. 

he was just doing fanservice for an audience member, nothing more. you try not to find his actions endearing as he slings his arm around the lead singer, mark, his surprisingly boyish laugh making your heart flutter in your chest as he waves towards his fans one more time. 

people are leaving the venue, the sounds of their excitement getting further and further away, but you stand there, reeling, clutching onto the metal barrier, sure that if you took your hands off it you would fall. finally, glancing up at the stage one last time, you're just about to leave to find your friend, the only reason you were even here, when –

"leaving so soon?" 

the boy is sitting on the stage right in front of you, leaning forward so you can see his face clearly. up close, he's even prettier than before, delicate almost doll-like legs wrapped under ripped skinny jeans, leading up to thick and toned thighs, his slender waist shadowed under his large leather jacket ridden with buckles and straps. without the bright stage lights, you can see the moles on his skin, tracing a dangerous path under the collar of his shirt. 

at your lack of response, he raises his eyebrows. "i asked if you were leaving, princess." 

"i have to find my friend," the words come out rushed. "um…jaemin? your band hired him tonight as the photographer." 

"i remember," he nods. "so…you're not a fan?" 

"no." he nods, silence filling the space between the both of you. you can see him start to formulate a goodbye, his heart-shaped lips parting, but you don't want the conversation to end, you don't want him to stop looking at you. "- but…i really enjoyed your show." 

he looks a little surprised, and a genuine smile spreads sweetly across his face. "why?" he challenges. 

"what?" 

"what did you like about our show?" his eyes glint, and you know he's teasing you. 

"the songs were good," you mumble. 

"yeah?" he licks his lips, a slight hint of nervousness showing on his face as he clears his throat. "who was your favorite member?" 

"huh?" 

"your favorite band member," he repeats, tilting his head to the side. "jeno, he's our drummer, mark's the lead singer, jisung plays bass and i…" he waves his hand absentmindedly towards his guitar, on the stand, still onstage behind him. "i'm haechan," he adds. 

if you wanted to get to know him, it wouldn't hurt to show a little of exactly how much you liked him, would it? "you were my favorite," you admit. "you…you have really good stage presence," you blurt out. 

"stage presence?" 

"yeah. when i'm in the crowd…i can't really pay attention to anything else. and you…" you swallow, heat burning up your cheeks, but the way his eyes were looking at you with curiosity making you finish your thought. "you make the audience feel like they want to please you." the unspoken truth, that you, as part of the audience, wanted to please him, hangs in the air. 

your embarrassment, at saying something so suggestive and raw, is quickly washed away by the smile tugging at the corner of his lip, a smirk that quickly spreads across his face into a grin. you're so mesmerized by it, that you're taken aback by the way he suddenly shifts, hopping down the stage lightly and standing in front of you. 

"princess," he says, softly, placing his hands on the railing next to yours so the sides of your fingers barely brush. "do you want to come to a party?" 

you resist the urge to immediately say yes. "what party?" 

"there's one after every show. jaemin will have been invited, he can take you." the venue has emptied out, even his bandmates have left the stage. and yet, his voice is pitched low as he leans in, body warmth radiating off of him, and you are so close, you can see the smudged eyeliner on his lower lash line, can make out the grey of his colored contact lenses. "you can find me there." 

"but…" you feel lost. "why can't you just take me?" 

"if we show up together, it'll seem a little like we're dating, no?" his voice is quiet, but firm. 

hurt and confusion blossoms in your chest. was it really that serious? keeping your voice as nonchalant as possible, you ask, "would that be so bad? for…for us to date?”

but you know it's the wrong thing to say. 

he exhales slowly, a brief look of pain flitting over his features. he hated doing this, hated reaching the point in conversations where rules and boundaries had to be discussed. nights where he found his girls at the party were the easiest, letting body language and long glances do the talking, as few strings attached as possible. 

but today he couldn't stop looking at you, in the front row, couldn't help sliding his eyes over and checking to see if you were watching him, a pleased thrum burning in his chest every time his gaze found yours. it seemed logical, to spend his time with you tonight. but if he'd known you'd felt like this, he never would have waited onstage. 

"what's your name, princess?" 

"y/n."

"y/n, i'm not making you my girlfriend," he states, bluntly. "i can't, and i don't want to. you can meet me at the party later, but we'll just fuck – nothing else." 

his words make you feel small, his tone harsh compared to his previous meandering way of speaking. even then, the thought of letting him walk away, to never see him again, to end this story on this moment, made you feel worse than anything.  

at the look on your face, he softens slightly. 

"i'm sorry if you thought this was going to be more," he says, quietly. "you don't have to do anything you don't want to." 

"i do," you correct him. frustrated, he sighs, and you rush to clarify. "i'll meet you at the party. just…nothing else." your end off hesitantly, unwilling to echo his crude words.

"are you sure?" you think you see his gaze darken, the tension suddenly heightening as he places one of his large hands over your own. his guitar-calloused fingertips are rough as they slide against the back of your hand, drawing shapes that burn into your skin like tattoos. you nod, but he shakes his head — slowly, sweetly patient. "i need to hear you say it," he murmurs, and the words go straight to your gut. 

"i'm sure." your voice comes out as a whisper, but he doesn't seem to mind. he leans in, and just when you think your lips are going to meet, your mouth parting expectantly, he tilts his head and kisses you softly on your cheek. 

"make sure no one sees you, princess," he murmurs, low in your ear, before straightening up. "don't make me wait too long, hm?" 

—

"did anyone follow you up here?" 

haechan sits with his legs hanging off the edge of the roof, arms slung over one of the lower rungs of the railing. he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes another drink from his bottle of red wine, knowing that you're hanging onto his every word. 

"no," you reply, voice barely louder than a whisper. you repeat yourself again, louder, hating the way your voice shakes with hesitance. "no, i don't think so." 

he exhales, shrugging off the leather jacket that hangs large over his frame, his shoulderblades moving under his white shirt, veiny arms pushing the bottle to the side as he shifts himself backwards fluidly so he's further away from the ledge, his long legs stretched out. 

"well?" and now he turns to look at you, dark eyes framed with makeup searching for yours, his gaze heavy. the piercing on his eyebrow glints in the moonlight, and when he leans his weight back on his hands, his shirt rides up so that you can see just the hint of a tattoo curling low on his hip. "are you ready?" 

feet unsteady, you shuffle over to him, standing over him as he watches you through hooded eyes. unsure, you start to sit down next to him, but a hand quickly reaches out to touch your knee, dragging his touch up the back of your thigh, the cold scrape of his rings on your skin feeling rough and claiming all at once. his lips part almost mockingly, commanding you without words to stop. 

he flicks his gaze down to his lap, eyes flickering back up to yours. eyebrows raised, as if in a challenge.

slowly, you lower yourself onto his lap, hands hesitantly grasping for his shoulders. his arms come to steady your waist, slipping under your shirt and touching bare skin, feeling the way your body shifts and moves. it's only because your body is pressed up against his, his hands are roaming up and down your thighs, that he notices something which makes him halt his movements, licking his lips. 

"you're shaking," he murmurs, now brushing the hair out of your eyes, tucking a strand behind your ear as he studies you, taking in the way you're all tensed up, the uncomfortable way your legs are folded, goosebumps erupting every time his fingertips brushed your skin, muscles trembling.

you swallow. "i've never done this before," you admit. 

his eyes widen, now removing his hands from you entirely, letting them fall. "you're a virgin?" 

you nod, heart pounding in your chest. he's looking away, his jaw set, his gaze hardened. did he hate that you had no experience? or would he enjoy that? "i can…" the words come out in a jumble, "you can teach me, i want… i want to-" 

"no." with surprising gentleness, he motions for you to move off his lap, and you follow his actions mindlessly, docile under his touch. 

"do you think i won't be good enough?" you ask, hating the way your voice comes out wounded and achy, hating how weak he made you. 

he pauses, tongue poking into the side of his cheek, and you think you can see a flash of something deep in his eyes. 

"y/n…i can't be your first time." 

"but i want –" 

"you need to be with someone who will take care of you." despite his words, his voice is cold, and clear. "i don't do that." he dusts off his jacket, shrugging it back on as he takes another drink from the bottle, eyes closed, unwilling to look at you for another second. "go home, y/n. i'll see you at the next show." 

you don't move. you kneel there, next to him, eyes desperately searching for his. 

"go home, y/n," he repeats, harshly. 

"i want to stay here," you bite back, stubbornly, hurt making your voice brittle. 

"then you'll have to watch me fuck someone else." lazily, he reaches into the pocket of his jacket for his phone, and you can see him scroll through his messages, faces and names blurring as you barely decipher him type out another message. his fingers moving across the keyboard, as the anonymous responder sends a series of heart emojis, eagerness palpable through the screen. he locks his phone, the click sound startling you out of your daze, and he puts his phone down on his lap, the action somehow mocking.

"so?" he's still not looking at you, staring straight ahead into the night. "do you want to watch?" 

and as you make your way down the stairs, shame burning at your neck and tears burning hot down your cheeks, you can swear you feel his eyes follow you all the way down. 

—

the feeling of embarrassment curdles in your stomach, and leaves a sour taste in your mouth every time you look in the mirror. it's what leads you to skip the next show, making an excuse to jaemin about 'having other plans'. and then the other, and then the other. and then it's been a week, and your friend has finally managed to drag you to one of their after-parties, pushing you through the door with a little too much enthusiasm. he knows something is bothering you, and he wants nothing more than to help take your mind off of it — but he has no idea that the something is currently leaning against the archway leading off into the living room, nursing a bottle of beer in his hands, and brushing his hands around some girl's waist in a way that made you feel sick. 

jaemin introduces you to mark, out on the balcony. mark is sweet, and friendly, a regular boy-next-door who happens to have face gems twinkling next to his eyes and leather pants tight around his thighs. he asks you about college, and work. he talks about the songs he's writing on his guitar. he catches your drink when you almost drop it over the railing, an easy smile on his face when his fingers brush yours passing it back to you, and a shy grin when he reaches out to lace his fingers with yours properly.

"i'm really busy, but i'd love to talk to you more," he says, sincerely, as he takes your phone from your hands to key in his number. he texts himself so his contact is at the top of your messages, making you promise to text him when you get back. he looks at you meaningfully, squeezing your hand before dropping it to go back to his party. 

there's a moment, where you think to follow. 

but then all of it – every touch, every glance, every speck of light you counted reflected in marks' wide eyes, — all of it is wiped clean the moment you hear a familiar low voice.

"trying to get with my friends now, princess?" 

when the light illuminates his silhouette, hurt registers before anything else. 

hickeys bloom across the side of haechan's neck, trailing down to his chest. only a simple mesh top lies underneath his leather jacket, and you can see the shadows of a few more bruises on his torso when his arm shifts, tugging the jacket open just slightly. his hair is a mess, tugged this way and that by desperate hands, and you think there may be a smear of bright pink lipstick at the corner of his lips. you can smell the reek of flowery perfume, cloyingly sweet, all over his clothes, as he leans back against the railing, eyes turned towards the party happening behind the sliding glass doors.

"i thought you said i was your favorite band member," he murmurs, a mock expression of sadness on his face. "mark's nothing like me." 

"why do you care?" you will yourself to sound more confident, letting the hurt dissolve into defiance. 

"i don't." the pout has melted off his face, a burning intensity now in the way he stares at you, making you shift uncomfortably. a moment passes, where he studies your face, eyes flicking across your features almost methodically. "so am i?" 

"what?" 

"am i still your favorite?" his voice is bitter, as if he knows the answer before asking and he doesn't like it. 

"are you seriously asking me that?" 

"princess –"

he's interrupted by a chime from your phone. the both of you glance down at it at the same time, the text and the sender unmistakeable on your otherwise empty lockscreen. 

mark <3 : thanks for talking to me today :) let me know when you get home safe! 

there's a pause. 

"mark has a girlfriend," haechan blurts out, his voice coarse. 

"what?" you look up at him, trying to figure out if this was a joke, but his face is impassive. 

"he cheats on her all the time with girls from his parties. it's his thing." haechan's still looking at your screen even though your phone has turned off, resolutely not meeting your eyes. 

it takes you a moment to gather yourself, every one of mark‘s actions and words suddenly flashing before you like a flipbook, sweet memories crumpling into dust. "are you lying?" you ask, shakily. 

"why would i?" he finishes his beer, veins shifting on the back of his hand as he crushes the empty can, the crunch of metal dissonant against the warm summer night. his next words are just as rough. "whether or not you get with mark means nothing to me. i don't care. i don't even know you." 

his words ring true, as he pushes off from the railing, leaving you alone on the balcony without another word. the abrupt end to the conversation has you turning, eyes following him as he steps back into the party, looking away a little too late as you see him gesture someone over with a flick of his fingers, her long hair covering both their faces when their lips meet. 

jaemin finds you crying on the balcony, but he can't figure out the reason. you delete mark's contact off your phone the moment you get home, and jaemin promises you he's never taking you to any other show or party with the band ever again. 

—

"there should be an empty room somewhere." the man lets go of your hand, at the foot of the stairs. "can you wait for me inside one? i'll find you in a minute." 

it's only when you're halfway upstairs, when you realise that you're really about to give yourself to a stranger for your first time. 

he has a bright smile, sweet dimples showing each time his lips turn upwards, each time he calls you baby. he's not much older than you, but there's an easy authority in the way he takes your cup from your hands and tells you to stop drinking, getting you glasses of water instead. his body dwarfs yours in size, and when you put your hand on his thigh, you see something shift in his expression that tells you he may not be as gentle as he seems. 

and when you tell him he'll be your first time, his throat bobs as he swallows, eyes dragging up and down your body with a newfound hunger. 

you've never really cared about who you lost your virginity to, not considering it a big occassion or anything to make a fuss over. your mind flits back to two weeks ago, when some boy had cared way more about it than you did. 

"you need to be with someone who will take care of you." 

anger flares in your chest at the thought of it, as you climb up the stairs two steps at a time, and it's just when you're just reaching the first landing, when you suddenly coming to a crashing halt because —

the sound of microphone feedback makes you put your hands over your ears, instinctively, the shrill sound piercing the air. 

a loud bass suddenly starts up, vibrating under your feet. did they hire a live band? the song that booms from downstairs is familiar, and with a jolt, you realise that you know it a little too well. 

that honey-sweet voice, the bitter bite to his words soothed over by the sweetest of tones – drifts up from the speaker, a haunting melody that echoes up the empty staircase, punctuated by a screaming crowd.

as if to further prove it was him, he lets out a laugh at the end of his line, the tone of it dark and sarcastic, the crowd going wild at the sound of it. 

was it a studio recording? it must be, because there was no way this band was downstairs, performing live at this random birthday party, there was no chance…

… except now mark is speaking into the microphone, greeting the audience, asking for the birthday girl. unease stirs in your stomach as you trace your steps back down, a dread that fills you up as the makeshift stage comes back into view, where the DJ had been just a moment ago. 

to where haechan stood, guitar on its stand, eyes already trained on yours, an expression of white hot anger on his face. 

—

"him? really?" 

you can still feel his touch on your arm, from how he dragged you into the bedroom. 

you're frozen on the steps. 

haechan signals to mark, ignoring the questioning looks from the members and protests from the boy as he steps off the platform, making a beeline for the stairs. his brows are furrowed, his teeth gritted as he glares at you. 

"you wanna go upstairs that bad?" he murmurs. "lead the fucking way, princess." 

he starts towards you, and you take a step back, body colliding with the door. the sound seems to ground him, and he takes a deep breath, trying to calm down, finally turning away to sit on the bed, the space allowing you to relax just slightly.

"i thought," he starts, patiently, swallowing hard. "i thought i told you to find someone to take care of you, for your first time."  

the reminder of his words feels like a stab in your chest. "i thought you didn't care," you shoot back. 

he ignores you. "did you come here with your friends? where's jaemin?" 

what the fuck was wrong with him? "who are you to tell me what to do?" 

his lips part, but no words come out. sighing, he rubs his face with his hands, still trying to calm down. "y/n," he starts again, voice pained. "i don't want to see you get hurt."

"how do you know he would've hurt me?" 

his eyes meet yours. "did you tell him?" he asks, quietly. 

"tell him i was a virgin? yes." anger seeps into your tone, as you glare at him. "he reacted very differently from you." 

"y/n that's not a good thing!" he stands up, his voice raised. "are you that desperate to get fucked?" 

you step back in alarm, tears forming in your eyes. fear, of the situation you almost put yourself in, of the boy in front of you, makes your throat close up, and you can't help the way your body tenses. the cruelness of his words settles in a little too late, an acidic burn in your chest. 

haechan feels the tips of his fingers go numb as you start to cry, guilt flooding his mind in a way he rarely felt. his face crumples, and he does't know what to do when you curl in on yourself, every sound you make feeling like a punch to his ribs.

"i'm sorry," he whispers, reaching for you tentatively. when you don't pull away, his arms circle around you, and he makes sure to leave enough space for you to breathe or break free if you wanted to. "i'm sorry," he repeats again, as you sink into his chest, needing his warmth as much as you hated his presence. 

"take it back," you mumble. "take it back right now."

"i take it back," he says, immediately. "i didn't mean any of it. i'm sorry." 

"you don't get to reject me," you start, voice shaky, "and control who i choose to be with."

he sucks in a breath, gripping onto you a little tighter. "y/n –" 

"it's…it's fucked up," you hiccup, fisting at the fabric of his shirt, crumpling it in your fists in frustration.

"i know," he breathes. "i know." 

his hand comes up to stroke your hair, and you hate how it really does manage to comfort you, your breaths steadying as he pats your back clumsily. when you think you've calmed down enough, you place your hands on his chest, and he backs away instinctively, looking down at his feet. never meeting your eyes.

"i'm tired, haechan," you whisper. "i don't want to play whatever game you're playing." he doesn't respond, so you continue. "you don't want to fuck me, but you don't want anyone else to." 

"i do." his response is so quiet, you barely catch it.

"you want other people to fuck me?" 

"no, i don't." he lifts his head, his expression conflicted. "i…i want to be your first time." 

"what?" 

when he doesn't respond, you sigh, agitated. "haechan, i already told you i don't want to play your games anymore –" 

"not a game," he cuts you off, softly. "i'll take care of you." the gentleness of his voice makes you feel small. it's almost overwhelming, the way he looks into your eyes, without his usual apathy and bitterness. 

"i thought you said you don't do that?" it takes you all your willpower to not give in. 

"i don't," he breathes. "but with you i will." he's starting to think he has no choice – that there's no one else in the world who's going to take care of you the way he knows you need. he doesn't know when he decided to give in, in between watching you place your hand on that man's thigh, and you standing in front of him now. all he knows is that he either had to do this, or make you disappear from his life entirely. 

the words hang in the air. even now, feeling so torn and hurt and tired, your body can't help how much you want him, hyper-attuned to the little details in his appearance: the messy black nail polish scrawled on his nails, smoky eye make-up that makes his gaze all the more intense and devouring. there's a heady smell hanging onto his skin and clothes, rich and indulgent vanilla and musk, filling up your senses with a giddy desire. long legs in a pair of ripped skinny jeans, his thighs stretching out the fabric in a way that almost looked like it hurt. 

"okay," you mumble. his lips part, but you answer him before he has a chance to ask. "please take care of me." your voice is small, yet each word seems to catch fire, incinerating the air between you. 

his tongue darts out, wetting his lip. "yeah?" 

you nod. finally giving in to the pull of your body, you take a step closer, looking up at him through your lashes. 

"i'm sorry…about all of it." he murmurs. "thank you for trusting me, still." 

you can't think of anything to say, so you nod again. it feels like your heart is in your throat. 

he swallows. "do you…you shouldn't…" his eyes dart around the room. "we shouldn't do it here. in…in some strangers bedroom." gently, he touches your arm, looking at you hesitantly. "would you feel comfortable if we did it in your apartment? or i could bring you to my shared apartment with the band…they wouldn't be back yet. but we might have to be quick…"

your head feels like it's spinning. 

at your lack of response, he rambles on, eyes focused on yours, trying to discern your thoughts. "w-what do you think? or…if you really want to get comfortable i don't mind booking a hotel, it's a little last minute but-" he bites his lip. "do you want to meet somewhere else or i could take you in my car? i haven't drank much, i swear, but if you don't trust me-" 

"stop," you blurt out. 

he freezes, the hand grazing your arm dropping to his side, fingers playing with the rips in his jeans. 

"i'm sorry," he says, softly.

"no, i mean…stop asking me questions." you exhale. "i trust you," you repeat, softly. every word of it was true — despite everything, you were still the same person sitting on his lap up on the rooftop. "just…take care of me, however you want." 

he swallows. "you sound…" exhaling, he shakes his head to clear it. "okay. is your apartment empty?" 

"yes," you whisper. "jaemin's away for tonight." 

"i'll drive," he murmurs. and now he takes a step closer to you, until he's all you can see, the room melting away. "but before that…can i kiss you first, princess?" you nod, transfixed by him, as he leans in. 

haechan kisses soft. 

his lips are plush, and soft, taking your bottom lip between his own sweetly. he tilts his head slowly as if he's afraid he'll overwhelm you by moving too fast, his lips parting as he invites you to do the same, his hands going to the back of your head to guide you. a soft sigh escapes the back of his throat when your lips part and he can taste you, and you can taste him — vanilla like how he smells, with the slight bite of alcohol. your hand comes up to touch his round cheeks, surprisingly soft too, and he smiles into this kiss. 

he's the one to break apart from you, with a patience that feels rehearsed. he's taking care of you, as he leans in so your noses brush, your breaths mingling. 

"haechan…" he hums, encouragingly. "i…you know this isn't…my first kiss, right?" 

a pause. "i know," he murmurs. 

"so… so you don't have to be gentle." you squirm slightly as his touch grows heavier, eyes darkening at the implications behind your words. 

he backs away from you, hands pulling you with him as he sits down on the bed. his eyes flick down to his lap as he lowers his gaze, before dragging them painstakingly up to yours again. 

"sit, princess." 

this time, when he feels you tremble against him, your knees caging in his hips as you straddle him, all he does is lean in and kiss you — just as sweet as he did the first time. 

"i'm gentle with you because i want to be," another kiss, his tongue sliding against your bottom lip. "not because i have to." his fingers guide your chin upwards, baring your neck to him as he leans in and leaves a kiss on a spot under your jaw. and then a longer, more lingering kiss. and now he's making his way down your neck, each press of his lips on your skin longer and rougher than the last, and now you're sure he's sucking marks onto your neck, especially when you feel a slight sting of teeth. 

you're shifting against him restlessly, body hardly your own as you fall under his touch. you don't know how long you spend there, in his lap, as he works on your neck, taking breaks to kiss you on the lips, his sighs echoing into the cavern of your mouth as it falls open with need. it's when he sucks lightly on your tongue, almost boyish in the way he backs away with a small smile, when a soft sound escapes your lips. 

"yeah?" he murmurs, leaning in again, letting the tip of his tongue brush against yours gently. "you like that?" 

you nod. 

"you sound so pretty," he breathes, as he slots his lips with yours again, humming against yours as you let out another small whimper. 

"haechan-" you mumble, and he draws away, looking at you expectantly. "i think i'm ready." 

"really?" his hands on your waist give you a light squeeze. "you want me to take you home now?" 

you're still giddy from the heat radiating off his skin, your lips craving his contact again now he's stopped kissing you. you nod, and he smiles, gently guiding you off his lap as he unlocks the door. 

he's gentle the whole way down – as he leads you away from the main staircase so you wouldn't be seen, the crowd still distracted by the band. he cradles you carefully against his side all the way out of the back gates and into his car, and when your breath catches as he leans over to buckle your seatbelt for you, he's gentle even as he presses into you for a spur of the moment kiss, tongue licking into your mouth with more fervor. 

it's not a song that plays in the car as he drives and you try to remember the way to your apartment, but rather it's a low and sultry beat — bluesy harmonies stretched out over pulses. part of you wonders if he played it on purpose, because imagining his voice set against it already had you melting against the leather seats.

it would all be rather sweet – how gentle he's being, the soft way he smiles at you in the dim lights of your lift lobby, the way he holds your hand and lets you lean against him as you head higher and higher, the space around you feeling like a vacuum of trapped adrenaline and lust. 

but there was also no denying the fact that he jolted at the slightest sound, his grip on you tight and slack all at once, the tenderness in his eyes here one second and gone the next. a hurt you could almost taste on your tongue, that you were holding onto something so fragile, and that to him it seemed the worst thing that could happen would be if he were found with you.

—

but all of it changes, when you're alone in your room. the weight of his attention, that you'd felt even as one person amidst a screaming crowd, seems to intensify tenfold as he lets his jacket slide to the floor, eyes on you. 

he reads the apprehension in your body, the way you hover near your bed, waiting for him to guide you. 

"let me know if it's too much, okay?" he murmurs, as he pulls you in for a hug first, feeling you warm against him as you cling on to his embrace. "you can tell me to stop whenever, and i will." his hands rub circles up your waist, teasing on the silver of skin between your top and your skirt. 

you nod, but he shakes his head – a thumb brushing across your cheek. 

"use your words," he murmurs. "so i know you mean it." 

"okay," you breathe, now guiding him to the bed yourself, curiosity getting the better of you. you had almost forgotten, in the midst of everything, why exactly you went to the party, and the familiar need sparks back to life in you. 

haechan sits down against the headboard, pulling you into his lap, the movement feeling even more natural now. he can see that you're nervous and eager at the same time, hands fumbling with the soft material of his shirt, unsure what to do as you shift around on top of him. 

"can i kiss you?" in the soft lamp light of the room, the sharp-cut edges of his face seem to blur, large doe-eyes looking up at you kindly. it makes you want to lean in, so you do — slotting your lips with his boldly, kissing him the way you wanted from him. it surprises him, the way you press your lips against him harshly, the gentle graze of your teeth against his plush lip. 

he lets out a small laugh, and kisses you back just as fiercely, the atmosphere in the room melting as temperature skyrockets, until it's almost unbearable to be separated from you by layers of fabric. 

"may i-" he mumbles, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, and when your voice chokes out an affirmative, he's quick to yank it over his head, movements rough, exposing beautiful skin, his body warm and solid under your palms as you lean into him. 

your cheeks warm, and he notices – a small smile on his face as his hands cup your cheeks, and he gives you a sweet kiss, abruptly different from the others. suddenly, it's almost too tender, the way he looks up at you with endearment in his eyes, kissing you chastely, and you sink into it a little guiltily, enjoying the innocence of it. 

when you feel your heart reach its boiling point, your own hands go to the hem of your shirt, and you pull it over your head. you don't mean to slow down your movements, not meaning to tease or entice, but the way his eyes darken looking at your body made you wish you did it on purpose. 

"pretty," he praises, head dipping to press a kiss between your collarbones. and another one, lower done, almost reaching your cleavage. the bra you had chosen mindlessly that morning was a thin bralette, and it did little to hide how aroused you were, your nipples poking stiff peaks through the fabric. 

but still, he doesn't make any move to remove it, peppering kisses on your bare chest, over the slope of your breasts, almost slobbering at your skin, lips dewy and wet. his arms are firm around you, meeting each one of your movements and steadying you, helping you rock your hips into him as desire surges in your body. 

"haechan, –" his name had never sounded so breathless falling from your lips.   

"yes, baby?" 

the term of endearment makes you feel smaller in his lap, the only thing making you feel better was the way he was just as heated as you, his breaths coming hard and fast. he wanted everything to be perfect, he never wanted to rush you into anything you weren't comfortable with, his hands staying firm on your lower back. 

you tug at the bralette covering your chest impatiently, the fabric never feeling more uncomfortable on your skin. 

"you want me to take it off?" he asks, head nuzzling into your neck as his fingers wander up your back. you feel it loosen around you, his finger expertly fiddling the clasp open, dragging it down and accidentally brushing against your hard nipples, making you hiss.

"i'll make you feel good," he promises, softly, lowering his head, kissing down the slope of your breasts. he makes eye contact with you, searching your eyes for any form of discomfort.

"be gentle," you murmur, nodding for him to continue. "they feel sensitive." 

"of course," he mumbles, before starting to lightly kitten-lick at your nipple, the feeling all at once new and arousing, making you pulse against him in his lap. he circles his tongue around your areola, being as gentle as possible, opting not to flick at your nipples but rather suck one into his mouth, heart-shaped full lips sinful against your chest. the heat between your legs is overwhelming, as he switches to your other side, his hand coming up to knead your breast, warm palms moving over skin and making you giddy. 

"please," you whimper, as he laps at you. "please, i need you, please –" 

"you have me," he murmurs, one of his hands reaching out for yours blindly, scrabbling against the back of your hand from where it's pressed against his chest, flipping it over and interlocking your fingers. "i'll take care of you. lie down for me?"

he moves you off his lap, guiding you onto your back, propping up pillows you can rest against. the familiar feeling of your bed is only faintly there, your senses filled with the sweet heady smell of haechan, from the perfume and lotion clinging onto his skin, as you watch him remove the numerous rings on his fingers, placing them carefully on your bedside table. 

haechan kisses his way down your body, suckling on your skin, leaving longer, lingering bruises on your hips, finally reaching your thighs as he lowers himself down. he guides your hips up with a heavy hand, sliding a cushion carefully under as he situates himself between your legs. you're so sensitive, that the feeling of his long hair against your skin has your thighs sliding together, squeezing around his head accidentally. 

"you okay?" he murmurs, as he kisses your thighs again, patiently easing your thighs open. 

you suddenly feel shy, knowing he was about to see you so intimately. even when you had agreed to let him take care of you, even as you trusted him completely, you had never imagined seeing him in between your spread legs like this, somewhere you hadn't even explored much yourself. would he be disappointed or disgusted? what if he didn't like what he saw or felt? 

"baby…." he rubs a hand carefully on your thigh, tips of his fingers slipping just under the hem of your skirt. "is this okay? do you want to stop?" 

"i don't want to stop," you admit, and you find that its true. 

haechan looks at you, studying your face. after a moment, he crawls back up your body, brushing the hair out of your eyes before he brushes his lips against yours softly, as if asking for permission. you grant it, lips parting as his warm mouth meets yours, a welcome taste in your mouth that's become familiar. you kiss for a while, his hand finding yours in the mess of sheets and intertwining your fingers, until you feel confident enough to slip your other hand to the zipper of your skirt. 

you tug it off your legs, haechan breaking away from the kiss to help you, moving down your body. 

"i'll take care of you," he whispers, his hand never letting go of yours. "these are so pretty, baby," he whispers, a finger tracing over the lacy pattern on the front of your panties. you've never been more aware of your own arousal seeping out of you, as he places a kiss low on your hip, and then another just on the waistband of your panties, and suddenly, you want nothing more than for them to come off. 

your fingers tug at them impatiently, and he takes hold of your hand, kissing your fingertips lightly. "let me," he murmurs, and you hear something low and raw in his voice, something that maybe wasn't there before. sitting up slightly, he pulls your panties down your legs, assuming his position as quickly as he'd left it once the fabric was out of the way, rearranging your legs so they're spread open for him. 

the tension in the room fills your lungs up like smoke. you barely mumble his name, beg him to do something, before you feel a soft touch against your clit, making your hips jolt and you let out a sharp exhale. 

"let me hear you," he encourages, gently, as he starts to rub circles into your sensitive nub, dipping down to your entrance and spreading your wetness all over your cunt. your hips keep shifting around, so he pulls his arm around to press down into you, keeping you still for him as he slowly pleasures you.

"t-this feels…" you start, lost in your own head. you've touched yourself before, but the sensitivity seemed to be heightened to an exaggerated amount once it was someone else touching you. he looks up at you, face still wickedly beautiful, the gentlest look in his eyes laced with something like desperation.

"can't believe i got so lucky," he murmurs, suckling a kiss close to your heat, high on the soft skin of your thigh. your legs clamp around his head, and it makes him groan, breath heavy against your cunt. "you're pretty everywhere, baby. can't believe i'm the only one." 

the words flood your veins with a dark thrill, the idea of being his, of him taking all your firsts. "hypocrite," you mumble, cutting yourself off with a moan as he applies more pressure to your clit. 

"maybe a little," he admits, shyly, as he dips his head back down and flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue, his fingers sliding down to your entrance instead. 

you cry out at the foreign feeling, the wet muscle of his tongue stroking your clit expertly while his slender finger slips past your entrance. his name, strung along by curses, echoes from your mouth as he teases his finger in and out of your entrance, tongue lying flat and wide as he laps at your clit in a way that made you feel like you were already close. 

stiffening his tongue, his flicks your clit with the tip, humming into you just as he curls his finger against your walls in a come-hither motion. he knows when you cum — back arching as you seemed to chase for stimulation above you, your walls sucking tightly around his finger and kneading it eagerly, making him groan as he imagines the feeling of you tight around his cock. he lets you ride out your orgasm on his face, his nose bumping your clit and eliciting another drawn out whimper, tongue teasing your entrance. 

when your hands push at his head, he backs away easily, once again making his way up your body to check on you, the warmth of his bare chest against yours making you feel safe. 

"good?" he kisses you, tongue moving against yours, inviting you to take a taste. "did you like that, sweetheart?" 

you nod, gasping. "haechan…"

"you did perfect for me, baby." his hands run up and down your sides as he kisses down your neck, enjoying the way your body wraps yourself around him, arms pulling his weight down into you. 

"i still need you," you murmur. the pleasure from before had only satiated you for a little bit, and the feeling of his hard length poking at your thigh was making your head spin with a whole different level of desire, as you grapple for his belt. "please, i've been good-" 

"you're perfect." he comforts you with a kiss. 

he guides your hand away from him gently, unbuckling his belt and letting his pants slide onto the bed as you lie back down on your pillows. tugging his underwear down, you swallow as he squeezes his thick length, the pink tip leaking clear liquid. he watches you watch him spread it on his length, pumping himself slowly, drawing out the pleasure as he moans, a sweet tenor sound that rings lewdly in the air. you watch, mesmerized, as he thrusts his hips forward a few times, stroking himself with a slight twist of his wrist before letting go abruptly, letting his cock slap up against his lower stomach. 

fishing around in the pocket of his discarded jeans, he takes out a condom wrapper, opening it quickly and rolling it onto his cock. you're sure you're making a mess of the sheets, you can feel your arousal and his saliva on your thighs, can feel another gush of wetness seep out of you as he lowers himself over your body and slides his cock against your folds. 

he grinds himself on you, hoping to get you wetter so it may be less painful when he enters you. his fingers find your clit again, this time he rubs it urgently, with just the correct amount of pressure to have you shaking and lifting your hips into him. 

"stop me anytime," he reminds you, as he lines himself up to your fluttering entrance. "you have to relax for me, baby." he pitches his voice lower now, and you can't tell if he's comforting you or if he's slowly being pulled under by lust too. he makes soft shushing noises, nipping at your lips with gentle kisses as you whimper, feeling the bulbous tip of his cock slowly stretch you open, his fingers resuming his movements. the head of his cock still feels shallow inside you, when it suddenly brushes against a sensitive spot, and his fingers on your clit glide just right, making you cum, hard. he feels you clamp down tightly around his tip, and he hisses, eyes squeezed shut. his mind wiped clean for just a second as pleasure thrums through his entire body, an aching pain that makes his mouth hang open.

"'m sorry," you whimper, tears prickling to your eyes as you interpret his expression as annoyance. "i'm so sorry, it just felt so good —" 

"baby…" he looks at you, his face morphing into panic when he sees the tears in your eyes. "don't apologise, please, you have nothing to be sorry for." 

you still look unconvinced, so he reaches for one of your hands, holding it in his and kissing your fingertips. "you are so pretty when you cum," the filthy words sound sacred the way he says them. "and you felt so fucking good around my cock," he murmurs, voice sinking low again.

you begin to relax again, sniffling slightly as you adjust your legs around his waist, feeling him slide a little deeper into you. he coaxes you into taking more of him, kissing you sweetly as he slips in further and further, until finally the both of you are groaning, his body shuddering slightly against yours as he feels your warm gummy walls tight around him. 

"so tight," he groans, cursing again under his breath as he circles his hips, drawing a moan from you as your thighs tense. "how are you so tight?," he panted, tone still teasing despite him trying desperately not to buck his hips into you. "has no one ever fucked you before or something?" 

you don't have it within you to tease back. 

"only you, haechan." the words are reverent, hushed. it strips him of any of his cockiness, his teasing, his boldness — his features softening at the way you look up at him, trying to maintain eye contact even as the ache between your legs drove you insane, not wanting to waste a single moment of this, in case it never happened again. 

"haechan…" your nails rake against his back, drawing him out of his daze. "please fuck me." 

"fuck," he breathes, as he slowly starts to move in you, obsessed with the way the words sound in your voice. his thick length drags against your walls, heavy inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal seeping into the room. you feel full and stretched out, sated by having him so close to you, it feels like you can feel him deep in your gut the way he's thrusting into you, especially when he hikes your legs higher on his waist, drawing a long moan from you as he manages to stimulate a spot inside you that has you seeing stars. 

he changes his pace, now barely pulling himself out of you as he nudges the head of his cock against your sweet spot. licking a long stripe from your neck up to your ear, one hand tangles itself with yours, while the other ghosts over your sensitive nipples. 

"i'm cumming," the words come out rushed as you barely hold onto your senses, cumming harshly for the third time, your body thrown into pleasure as your muscles tense. he succumbs to the feeling of your walls kneading his length and squeezing tight around him, eyes going unfocused and hazy as his lips part, a moan drawn out from his lungs without conscious thought. he's aware of the way your muscles tense as he fucks both of you through your highs, relishing in the sting of your fingernails on his back as he slows down his movements. he draws out both your highs by leaning in and sucking on the mark he'd left behind earlier that evening, letting his moan buzz and fizzle on your skin. 

you feel dazed and tired, arms never letting go of him, legs unwilling to unwrap from his waist as you cling to him. he rolls you both onto your sides, caressing your body sweetly and stroking your hair, mumbling questions and concerns that you can't register, nodding to everything in a blur. the weight of him feels good, his body warm and solid against your back, and once again that feeling of safety, that feeling of complete trust, washes over you. it makes you feel whole even as he pulls out of you with a wince, discarding the condom in the trash by your bedside. 

you cling to him, and he knows you need it — so he doesn't let you go, heavy hands patting your back clumsily, slightly rough and out of rhythm, just like the way your heart beats against your ribcage.

when he feels your arms loosen, relaxing finally after the high of hormones and adrenaline, he slips away quickly to the bathroom, putting on his underwear as he goes. he grabs a towel, turning your tap on to warm water and checking the temperature with his wrist as he washes his hands, his face, cleaning himself up. running the towel under the water and squeezing it dry in the sink. his movements methodical, as he slips out of your room and into the kitchen, looking around for a glass of water. 

he immediately races back the moment he hears a sound from your bedroom, shutting the door behind him just as you sit up, your expression clearing once you see him again. pulling his shirt from where it's discarded on the floor, he slides into bed, kissing you on the cheek. 

he cleans you up with soft strokes, the warm towel soothing on your skin even though he hadn't really been rough. he makes you drink from the glass of water, watching you drain it carefully. finally, slipping his large shirt over your frame, swallowing at the way it envelopes your body, a feeling stirring in his gut that he ignores. 

"y/n? are you with me?" when you don't respond, wide eyes looking up at him, he touches his fingers to your cheek. "baby?" 

each brush of his skin against yours felt like trails of fire, lingering warmth even after he pulls away. every look he gave you through his lashes, the slight pout to his lips when he broke away from a kiss, made you feel like you were caught in a riptide, your pulse out of your control. you wanted to crawl into him and make a home in his chest. you never wanted him to look at you again with his shuttered eyes, to have to dream yourself into the skin of someone else as he touched them. 

you had to tell him. "haechan…haechan i…" you reach for him, and he pulls you into his embrace, shushing you softly. you try to speak again, lips parting, but he envelopes your lips in a gentle kiss, nipping at your mouth each time you part, swallowing all your sounds with the sweep of his tongue. 

"princess…" his voice sounds raw, and coarse. "don't say anything you don't mean." 

"but-" 

"you don't know me." was it regret in his voice, or your wishful thinking? "you don't know me at all. what you're feeling right now…" he touches a hand to your chest, brushing a kiss on your cheek. "it's because of the sex, alright?" 

you shake your head. 

your next words come out slurred, your eyelids starting to droop as sleep begins to tug at your mind, threatening to pull you under. "but…why can't i know you?"  

he takes a deep breath. "i don't want you to."

"but i don't want this to end." 

he holds you tighter against his chest at your words. 

"this?" he questions, quietly. he keeps his voice light, but it still pierces your heart like a shard of glass. "there isn't a 'this' princess. this isn't happening again." 

"why?" 

"i don't want you to get attached." he cradles you even more carefully against him, freckling mellow kisses onto your forehead, the contrast between his words and his actions ringing dissonant in your ears. "besides… why would i spend the night with the same girl twice, hm?"

sleep softens the hurt from the words he's saying. his voice fades slightly, his touch against your skin roaring ever louder in your ears. "you know i won't be here when you wake up, right?" his fingers brush against your forehead lightly, pushing hair away from your eyes. 

you knew. 

but you still cried in the morning all the same — the golden-orange sunrise beautiful and terribly cruel, just like the boy you were perhaps falling in love with. 

—

you spend the weekend alone. 

you spend the weekend wondering if haechan thought of you at all, after he left. thinking if what he said was real, and it was just adrenaline and lust, then why did your heart ache at the thought of him? at his face on posters outside the small concert venue, inviting you to a show next week? why did you always turn at the slightest hint of his voice? 

you try to forget him. you try to tell yourself he wasn't worth it. but deep down all of it, a part of you still hopes, which is perhaps why you were letting jaemin drag you past the poster of haechan, into the alleyway that led backstage.

"are you sure you need me there?" you pull at jaemin's sleeve, your other hand holding onto his spare camera carefully as he guides you into the venue.  

"i do," he insists, pushing through a set of doors leading to the stage. "mark wants extra photos for their social media page and i can't be doing all of that at once." 

you can hear the boys talking just around one of the curtains, sprawled out onstage, a cacophany of sounds as they absentmindedly plucked at their instruments. you were going to see haechan again. you can't tell if it makes you want to run towards them, or go back home. that familiar sense of hope, the kind you experienced in the crowd that first night, on the balcony, in the bedroom and in the moonlight, fills you up slowly, sweet and light. maybe, if he just saw you again…

"y/n-" jaemin puts a hand on your arm, stopping you gently before you could rush onto stage. 

"yes?" you prompt. 

"i know i dragged you here, but if you're feeling uncomfortable," he starts, and you start to slip away, but he only tightens his grip. "let me finish — if you're feeling uncomfortable, or if any of them are hurting you, let me know okay?" 

you hadn't told him about haechan, something close to shame seeming to rise up and choke you whenever you tried to bring it up. all jaemin knew was that the last two times you had come into contact with the band it had upset you badly, and as your best friend and roommate he never wanted to see you crying on the balcony again. 

"what would you do? beat them up?" 

"i would leave." his serious tone doesn't change, unaffected by your attempt to lighten the mood. 

"but the money –" 

"no job is more important than you being okay," he insists. "i don't want to work for them if they hurt you. okay?" 

"okay." 

even though he looks unconvinced, his grip on your arm loosens and he takes your hand instead, pulling back the curtain with his other. 

you can hear him say something to mark about today's shoot, hear him greet the rest of the members. you guess that mark is rising to greet him, hear something like jisung and jeno standing too, but everything fades to white noise when the sight you're looking at clicks in your mind, the one member of the band who's voice you hadn't heard, who hadn't bothered to turn around at jaemin's arrival.

or rather, the one boy who was too pre-occupied to — considering he had his tongue in a pretty girl's mouth. 

haechan was facing away from you, away from the rest of his bandmates, you could really only see his broad back under his denim jacket, but the careful tilt of his head as he kissed her was all too familiar, as was the movement of his arms around her waist. and when she shifted in his lap, his hands pulling her hips down unto his, you can feel your heartbeat in your ears, a sharp pain searing at your chest in emotions you couldn't pinpoint. 

"fuck, sorry about that –" mark's voice is flustered, and now a tall boy, the bassist, jisung, is stepping in front of you, blocking your view of him. 

"sorry," he echoes, and you're momentarily caught off guard by how deep his voice is - husky and quiet. you blink up at him, fog slowly clearing in your mind, and he smiles shyly. "he doesn't usually do that." 

"who?" 

"um, haechan…" he looks back briefly, and you see haechan helping the girl to her feet, her body crumpled into his like she couldn't bear to be separated from his touch. you feel a wave of second-hand shame again – was that what you had looked like? 

and then jisung turns back to you, towering over you again and blocking everything from view. "he usually only does this after the show, but today…" 

"it's fine," you say, faintly. 

jisung looks at you, carefully. "you're jaemin's friend y/n, right?" 

you nod, half your mind still on what could be going on right now. behind jisung, you see mark pull haechan, now alone, towards a corner of the stage, whispering angrily at him. haechan is slouched lazily, picking at his nails with all the look of someone who couldn't care less about what was going on. 

"i saw you at our last show," jisung continues. "i was going to…i was going…" he breaks off, a little embarrassed, fumbling with his words. "are you sure you're okay?" 

"i'm fine, jisung." you repeat, your voice a little more firm, as you finally look back at him.

he blinks. "you know me?" 

jisung still looked worried, but there was something sweet about the way he shrunk a little under your attention, eyes darting all over your face and around his surroundings, blush tinging his cheeks.

this you were comfortable with – something completely different from the way haechan's eyes always tried to drink you in, or the way your vision would go blurry at the edges when he would stand in front of you. talking with jisung was easy, the confidence that haechan drained from you seeping back and settling in. 

he had meant it, when he said you shouldn't get attached. you just had to learn it before it brought you more hurt you couldn't justify.

"jisung," you emphasise. "of course i know you. you play bass, right?" 

"y-yeah," he stammers, pointing unecessarily at his dark blue bass guitar on its stand. "i don't know, i guess i always thought people didn't really know me even if they knew the band." he fiddles with the hem of his shirt, black hair falling over his eyes. "people usually choose to stand where haechan or mark are." 

"you usually stand on the left?" 

he nods, bashfully, and a smile tugs at your lips. 

"i'll make sure to stand there, later during the show." 

"wow, okay." he pauses for a moment, steeling himself. "how about after?" 

"what do you mean?" 

"would you want to meet…after the show?" he hesitates, voice soft. 

your brow furrows slightly. "do you mean the party?" 

"we don't have to go," he blurts out. "i don't mean…i don't mean like what haechan usually does after the show."  

his name is an unwelcome sting, but the way jisung sneaks glances up at you from where he looks down at his feet makes it a little easier to forget. "then what do you want to do?" 

"w-we can get something to eat." he says it like he just suggested robbing a bank. 

oh. "like a date?" 

mortified, his lips part, and you can tell that he's frantically trying to read your tone, trying to figure out if the idea of it made you uncomfortable, whether you were suggesting because you wanted it. it's so endearing, watching him start his sentences and stop them, the hem of his shirt crumpled and worn out by his nervous fingers. 

eventually, he takes a deep breath, and settles for a question. "d-do you mind if it's a date?" 

did you? 

was there any hope in waiting for haechan, when he had made it so clear that you would never have him again?

jisung is still looking at you like you have all the power in the world to hurt him. 

"i don't mind," you say, softly, feeling a hum of satisfaction in your chest at the way it makes his lips part in blissful surprise. a beat. "do you want it to be…?" 

"yes," he blurts out. "please," he adds, shyly. 

the awkward silence between the two of you feels good, the lightness of it familiar and giddy, like a schoolgirl crush. jisung can't stop smiling, biting his lips slightly as he turns to face mark, who's crossed to the front of the stage to speak to them. 

" — jisung, jaemin will start with your photos first. we'll just be shooting the rehearsal process today, so there's no need to-" he breaks off, brow furrowing. "jisung why are you so red?" 

"i-it's w-warm in here." 

"well you should cool off before jaemin takes your photos." jisung nods, flustered, and he walks offstage with jaemin to prepare. jeno too, strolls away with a wave to mark, leaving him alone at the front of the stage. 

with you. 

mark glances over at you, his eyes darting over your face, trying to read your expression. you can almost hear haechan's voice from that night, the ghost of the hurt still palpable in your bones. but the moment you take a step back, thinking that you should find jaemin and jisung, mark seems to have made up his mind — his face set, he starts to walk over to you, and you find your own footsteps falter.

"um, y/n, can i speak to you for a second?" 

you take a deep breath. "is this about the photos for later?" 

"no…not exactly." he clears his throat. there's a pause, as he seems to pick his words. "y/n, did i do something wrong?" 

you blink at him. "what do you mean?"

"i mean, i know it was a while ago, but i thought we were getting along fine at the party," it feels like he's rehearsed this to some capacity, or perhaps it was just the confidence of being a lead singer. "but then since then every time i saw you…i feel like you've been avoiding me." 

"i haven't been avoiding you." you take a deep breath. "mark, do you have a girlfriend?" 

his eyes widen. "are you…are you asking me out?"

"what?" you balk. "no!" 

"oh." his face falls. "i mean…i just thought…"

"that's just too bad, markie." 

it’s practically deja vu.

haechan stands behind you, his body radiating warmth, and you inhale sharply. surprisingly, he doesn't smell saccharine, the way he always does with the girls he chooses — his skin smells like baby powder and fresh linen. your body is doing that thing again – where you hone in on his presence and the whole world dissolves, and you're hyper attuned to the way his arm hovers near yours, his breath on the back of your neck. anything you were about to say to mark completely lost in your brain. 

exasperated, mark runs his hand through his hair. "haechan…don't be difficult." 

"i'm not." you feel almost numb when his hand touches your elbow, sliding down to hold your hand tight in his grip. "y/n and i have to talk about something." 

"can't it wait?" 

"it's urgent," haechan says, sarcastically, giving you a sharp tug towards him. your feet stumble as haechan starts to walk off, and you turn one last time to see mark standing there, looking a little forlorn, suddenly small under the bright lights of the stage. 

"sorry, –" you mumble out. mark frowns, starting towards you. 

but now haechan really pulls you along, yanking curtains aside and accessing a short flight of stairs. you can feel the intensity of his emotions radiating off him in waves, making it a little hard to breathe as you try to keep up, afraid of what he'll say if your hand slips from his grasp. 

he guides you along a corridor and through a doorway, stepping into the warm light of a dressing room, the door slamming shut behind you as haechan pulls you in. 

you're almost afraid to look at him, but you do anyway. 

he's slightly breathless from the walk down, stooping slightly to lock the door with careful hands. when he straightens and steps towards you, the lights hitting his features, you can see that he's covered up the hickeys on his neck with makeup. something mark made him do, no doubt. 

"haechan -" 

"park jisung? really?" he sneers, backing you into the dressing table. 

 "what?" 

"don't lie to me," he demands. "i saw you." 

"really?" you fold your arms across your chest as he moves in closer, planting both hands on the table on either side of your hips, caging you in. "you looked busy. where did she go, hm? did mark send her away, or did you?" 

haechan rolls his eyes. "that's none of your business." 

"jisung said you don't usually bring girls to the rehearsal," you continue, watching the way his tongue pokes into his cheek in annoyance. "what happened?" 

"you two talked about me?" he demands. "what else did you do? make plans to fuck after the show?" 

"i'm not a virgin anymore," you remind him, your voice laced with a warning. "i thought you only cared about my first time." 

haechan groans. seeing you talk to jisung out of the corner of his eye, seeing your hands brush and his friend's head duck shyly to the side, gave him a weight on his chest which grew heavier each time he took a breath, each time he had to hear one of jisung's small laughs. 

"if you want to have mediocre sex then i couldn't care less," he snaps. "just know that you're going to have to fuck a lot of people before you forget me." 

you can see that you're losing him, the familiar closed-off look coming back to his face, anger dissapating into indifference. 

"what is there to forget?" you ask, hurt and anger making your voice shake. 

haechan is staring at you, his face now so close to yours if you leaned in just slightly your lips would brush. 

"you don't mean that," he says, quietly. 

and just like that, all the fight drains out of you. 

"haechan, jisung just wants to take me out on a date." his features tense, and he bites his lower lip harshly. "would you ever ask me out on a date, haechan?" 

he doesn't respond.

"would you?" 

"i told you," he breathes. "i don't do that." 

"you told me you didn't want to be my first time, and you took it back," you remind him, quietly. 

"that's different." you can't help the disappointment that wells up inside you, and you know he can see it from the way his face falls too. 

"don't look at me like that, princess." he sinks into your touch easily, warmth once again circling your body.  

you don't know if you wished haechan was a liar, or if you wished he wasn't. if he was telling the truth about everything, it would be easier to let go of him, to walk away from someone who could only cause you pain, from someone who played with you over and over again. 

but maybe if he was lying it would all make sense – the way he said he didn't want you and yet kept showing up, the jealousy and the conflict in his voice, all of it would have some sort of plausible reason, one that would mean that maybe he cared for you. 

"i don't want to do this anymore," you mumble, hands placed on his chest. you only push at him lightly, but he backs off all the way to the opposite wall, your words feeling like salt in his wounds. "i can't do this with you, haechan."

"y/n-"

"you have a show soon," you mumble, turning around to look in the mirror. you comb your hair with your fingers, trying to calm yourself down. behind you, haechan's eyes flash with frustration, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows drawn together as he looks up at your reflection. 

"i'm trying to talk to you." 

"are you?" it's a genuine question, and it makes him falter, a response half-formed on his lips. when it's clear he won't finish his thought, you close your eyes. 

"you need to go," you say again, quietly.  

"will you be there?" 

you don’t respond, and he repeats himself, urgently. 

"will you be there? at the show?" 

"i will," you say, hesitantly. 

"i'll see you then." his voice is controlled, and steady. somehow it feels like the calm before the storm. 

but before you can turn around to try to talk to him, persuade him to calm down, ask him what's wrong, he's already left the room, the sound of his heeled boots echoing down the hall. 

—

"is everything okay?" 

"why are they taking so long?" 

"are they late?" 

unease settles in the pit of your stomach as you stand in the crowd, the voices all around you whispering anxiously. it had been 15 minutes since the show was scheduled to start — but the lights on the stage were dim, and the pre-show playlist had just restarted for the second time. you had situated yourself on the left side of the stage, where jisung usually stood, and you bounced on your toes, hoping that everything was alright backstage so jisung could come out and see that you had kept your promise. 

and then there's a low rumble, as lights finally flood the venue, the crowd sighing with relief as jeno and mark appear – jeno waving at the crowd, his drumsticks in one hand, while mark smiles reassuringly, walking over to the mic and checking that it's at the correct height. he apologizes lightly for the delay, looking to the side of the stage nervously as he murmurs a quick introduction of the band into the mic.

haechan strides onto stage, electric guitar slung around his neck, as the crowd's screams reach an all-time high. he stops abruptly at the left side of the stage, right in front of where you stood, nodding at the crowd and cocking his head from side to side, as if preparing for a fight. he keeps his face level as his eyes find yours, that same burning intensity you felt in the dressing room unwavering as he held your gaze.

and then jisung appears, footsteps faltering where haechan stood, the grip on his bass going slack.

"haechan." jisung's voice is soft, you can barely hear it from where you stand so close to the stage. you can tell that the crowd behind has no clue what's going on, but some fans are looking at each other confusedly, pointing at the two boys, and the position on mark's left where haechan usually stood, now empty. 

"yes?" haechan's not looking at jisung, fingers running phantom chords up and down the fret board. 

"w-why are you standing here?" jisung whispered, embarrassment evident in his tone. "aren't you supposed to be on mark's left?" 

haechan's eyes briefly flick up to yours. "not today." 

distressed, jisung makes a sound. "haechan." guilt fills up your lungs like smoke, making it difficult to breathe, a twist in your chest as jisung looks over at you, lost. 

"run along, jisung," haechan murmurs, softly. "don't want to keep the fans waiting." 

mark, not wanting to draw attention to them, keeps smiling at the crowd, starting to ask them a few questions. jisung only tries a few more times, haechan resolutely ignoring him, before finally accepting defeat, casting his eyes over to you — his gaze wounded and confused, as he walks off with his bass. he assumes haechan's position, and the crowd cheers encouragingly. the boy manages a smile. 

when mark starts to introduce the first song, haechan finally looks up, a faint smile playing on his lips as his eyes lock with yours again. just like the day you met. 

and just like the day you met, you felt yourself fall under his spell, yet again. 

—

"haechan, i think we —" you gasp out, in between the kisses that haechan is pressing to your lips. 

he gives a non-committal hum, his legs framing your body as he holds you close to his chest. his lips are warm and soft, tasting slightly of cherries, as he opens you up little by little, chaste kisses turning into open-mouthed ones, his tongue darting out and gently licking into your mouth in a way that was intoxicating. 

you grip onto his arm harshly, trying to ground yourself, and he inhales sharply, breaking away. 

"haechan –" you pant. "we should-" 

but then he's kissing you again, smothering your words with his lips and his tongue. his hands rub at your lower back, guiding your movements as you shift against him, his hips grinding upwards almost lazily. 

"jisung, –" you start, but now he gives a groan, rumbling through his chest almost like a roar. slumped back against the car door, he glares at you, touching the corner of his wet mouth with his thumb.

"you did not just fucking say my bandmates name while you're on me." 

"we should apologize to jisung," your words come out in a rush. 

"for?" he catches the look on your face, and rolls his eyes. "fine," he mumbles. "i'll talk to him." leaning up towards you, he starts to pepper kisses down your jaw, sucking a little harder on the mark he had left before. "kiss me?" he mumbles, and you have to stop yourself from caving in. 

"haechan," you press on, as haechan licks boldly at your collarbone. "haechan –"

"keep saying my name," he murmurs, hands roaming up your shirt, teasing over the clasp of your bra. 

"mark, —" 

"fuck." breaking away agian, haechan tips his head back, lips stretched out and puffy as he tongued his cheek. "you want me jealous princess? is that it? because it's fucking working –" 

"haechan, we keep hurting people." you place both hands on his chest, trying to calm him down. 

"what?" 

"today we hurt mark too. although, i don't really know why–" you break off, thinking about how he looked as he tried to follow after you and haechan. how jisung's cheeks burned red as he walked across the stage. "haechan, they're your friends." 

"you wanna hurt jeno too?" he raises his eyebrows, his own hands now mindlessly scraping against yours. "you can lead him on, and then we can fuck while he watches. although he'll probably like that –" 

again, he takes in the way you frown. "fine. sorry. jeez." 

"i don't want to hurt people because of us," you say, softly. 

"well," he exhales. "they're only hurt because they can't have you, princess." he tucks your hair behind your ear from where its come loose. "there's nothing we can do, hm?"

you shake your head. "you're not being fair," you whisper. 

"how so?" his hands slide down. there's something possessive in the drag of his palms, the way he squeezes your waist. 

"you don't call me yours…but you also don't let them near me." your voice is small, but it rings loud in the silence of the car all the same. the streets outside were empty and deserted, and you think you can hear your heart beating in the still air as your palms stay pressed on his firm chest. "haechan…i need you to choose."  

it's a long time before haechan responds. he's tired from the show and all the adrenaline, you can feel it in his slow breathing, in the way his eyes blink slowly up at you like an afterthought. but his eyes are what give it away – his gaze is sharp and calculative as his eyes roam your body, his touches not quite as drowsy as he appears, fingers tingling against skin. 

you wait, your heart in your throat. you wait and you hope. 

his full lips part, his eyes meeting yours. 

"so…this is our last time together?" 

of course that's his choice. the disappointment spreads like cold, an ache deep in your bones. "if that's what you choose." your voice is flimsy. "haechan, —" but nothing leaves your mouth, just a wounded sound. everything rushing up inside you like a waves breaking over the shore, memories flooding your senses. 

the hurt on mark's face. haechan's hands on your skin. the blush that burned at jisung's skin as he watched haechan pull you to his car, his figure growing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. haechan's lips against your ear as he held you. 

"shhh," his arms hold you against his chest, smoothing down your spine as he comforts you as if you were a baby, you clinging on tight to him as if he were going to disappear. "it's okay," he murmurs. "we'll just have to make it count, hm?" gently, he guides your face out of his chest, relieved when he realizes that you're not crying yet, at least. kissing your cheek gently, he brushes his thumb against the apples of your cheeks. "are you alright? do you want me to take you home?" 

"s-stop it." you manage to steady your breathing enough to repeat yourself. "stop being gentle with me, haechan. stop leading me on." 

"stop getting hurt," he replies, a little teasing, but his tone aches. 

"kiss me?" 

this time you do, letting him guide your movements, as he pulls you down into his body as if he were trying to pull you all the way through him. 

his kisses are slow and sweet, tilting his head almost shyly, the tip of his nose bumping against yours as he leans up into you. his tongue carefully slides over your bottom lip, before he's nudging your lips apart with his own again, tongue gently moving over yours, pulling away with a small smile when you chase after him, tongue stuck out slightly, chasing the warmth of his mouth. 

"cute," he mumbles, and you pull your shirt up over your head just so he won't see the way your cheeks burn in the dark. 

his movements become a little more urgent as he unclasps your bra, letting it slide to the floor of his car as he surges towards you. his lips begin to suck marks onto your chest, hands now squeezing your soft breasts, mapping your body indulgently. his tongue licks slowly around your right nipple, before giving it a gentle flick with his tongue, your body shifting restlessly against him as it sends a wave of arousal down to your core. he hugs you against him to steady your movements, lapping at your nipples and guiding each roll of your hips down into his. 

your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him away from you. before you can tell him to stop teasing, he's kissed you again — placating. sweet like he knew everything you were about to say, before you even said it. 

you raise your hips as his hands smooth over the pleats of your skirt, before flipping the soft material upwards. you hadn't worn anything special, not having the courage to, but the way he looked at your simple white panties, thumb running carefully over the pink bow in the middle of the waistband, made you feel warm all over. you hurry to pull them off, just to break the moment, but he catches them right before you tug them off your ankle. 

"can i keep these?" his doe-eyes blink up at you. you can see the brown in his irises, almost gold in the light. you nod, and he lets out a laugh, kissing you through his smile as his fingers wander up your thighs. 

he starts with slow circles on your clit, stroking the nub gently, feeling the way your hips shift at the feeling. when he speeds up his motions, fingers teasing along your slit and catching at your entrance a few times, your hips begin to pick up a steady rhythm, rocking into his hand. 

"do you just want to cum like this?" he asks kindly, placing a bit more pressure on the tips of his fingers. he wants to be inside you badly, his erection almost painful from the lack of contact, but he knew that it might do more for him than it did for you.

this was how he wanted you to be taken care of for your first time, for your second time — this is why he didn't want you to slip away from him into rooms with men who wouldn't know what you needed, wouldn't care what you wanted.

or at least — it's what he tells himself to keep him sane. 

"'m close," you mumble, your movements uncoordinated, neediness driving your hips into his hand, pleasure that you didn't quite know how to handle. "feels so empty, haechan, please –" 

he slows down his movements, a hand sliding over your waist to rub at your lower back, eliciting a warm sound from you that radiates into his chest. he slides a finger into your tight entrance, feeling the way you tense around him, slowly slipping the finger in and out, curling against your walls carefully. his thumb comes up to press your clit, and you inhale sharply as the pressure in your abdomen builds. 

"more…" 

"baby, you're doing so well," he praises. freckling careful kisses on your neck to distract you, you feel another finger catch against your entrance, his hand breaking its rhythm to carefully slide in, stretching your hole out even more. with a lewd suck on the base of your neck, he curls both fingers against your walls, a slick finger slipping on your clit, and you feel yourself crash headfirst into your high, thighs clamping around his hand in sensitivity as you moan. he murmurs praises against your ear, kissing your jaw sweetly between each one. 

he removes his hand from your core with a wet sound, and you drop down into his lap, feeling weak at the knees even though you weren't standing. he lets out a groan, feeling your wetness and warmth through his jeans, and he can feel his cock twitch under the fabric. but still, he waits until your breathing evens out, using his cleaner hand to stroke at your sides, humming lightly under his breath, the reassuring sound filling the car. his breaths sync with yours as you come down from your high, and together you let out a shaky exhale. 

"do you mind?" he asks, quietly, hands going to his belt slowly, trying not to startle you. "we don't have to have sex. i just really need to take care of this now…" you nod, flustered, crawling backwards down his legs, and he leans forward to kiss the crown of your hair. against the soft sounds of your breathing, the sound of him unbuckling his belt, letting it drop into the shadows, and the rustle of fabric as he tugged his jeans and underwear down as much as he could, were endlessly arousing. you felt yourself begin to pulse with need again, your thighs squeezing together when he pulls out his cock, thick and heavy against his palm, the tip blushy and leaking. 

he gives himself a tentative stroke, spreading pre-cum over his length before squeezing the base and hissing at the feeling as he tries to stop from cumming too soon. as if in a trance, you reach out towards him, your hand curiously wrapping around his shaft. he groans, low, as you give him a tentative stroke, although the sound is cut off by a high whimper when your fingers rub the head of his cock, silky under your fingertips. 

"baby, you don't have to –" he's cut off by another moan as you squeeze his length, applying more pressure as you stroke. "fuck, jus' like that," he mumbles, weakly, as you twist your wrist a little on a downstroke, palm slippery with pre-cum. after a few more strokes, watching haechan's head loll this way and that, twisting with pleasure, you pay more attention to his tip, thumbing just under it, fingers rubbing his slit. haechan's hips are restless, thrusting into your hand, his body shaking and the muscles on his abdomen clenched tight. you give him a few more strokes, and his whines fill up the car, raspy and sinful in a way that made you crave him even more. 

mimicking his movements, you slide your hand back down to his base and squeeze. he blinks hazily up at you, lips still parted, panting breathlessly. 

"baby…" 

"i need you," your voice feels broken, desire pulsing through each syllable. "please haechan," you add, as he swallows harshly, his cock twitching slightly against the warmth of your hand. 

pulling you towards him, he kisses you again, fingers wandering down to your heat and stroking your folds. "so wet from touching me, baby?" he teases, smiling against your lips as he slips a finger in, and then another, your walls sucking him in easily. he finds your soft spot immediately, your thighs shaking around his hand as you whine. it's a sound embarrassing to your own ears, but it's like music to haechan's ears, as he lets out a low groan. 

"it's too bad it's your last time with me," he murmurs, lightly, as he takes a condom out from the glove compartment, his hands moving swiftly as he tears open the package and rolls it onto his cock. "i would love to record your pretty sounds…" your voice lets out another small whimper, as if proving him right, as he adjusts you on his lap so the head of his cock lines up with your entrance. slowly, you sink down on him, clutching onto his body for support as you feel him fill you up tightly. 

"breathe," he coaxes, letting his own head sink back against the seats, the hazy feeling of you wet and warm around him intensifying as you take all of him inside you. he continues on, trying to distract you by peppering gentle kisses all over your cheeks. "would you like to hear your voice in a song, sweetheart? all the girls in the crowd wondering who's pretty voice is on the track, wondering who's making her feel this good…" he hisses, when he feels you pulse around him. "you want that?" 

your lips part, stuttering out jumbles of half-sentences, yes-es and nos. "'m just teasing, baby," he coos, as he thrusts his hips upwards experimentally, bouncing you on his lap. you lean into his body, feeling muscle firm under your palms as you raise your hips and grind against him, sensitivity making your thighs shake as the movement stimulates your clit. 

responding to your need, his arm loops around your waist while his fingers wander towards your clit, stroking and rubbing it expertly as he continues to thrust up into you, the car jolting with his movements. his strong thighs tense as he moves, barely pulling out before stuffing himself into you again, your walls kneading his length in a way that makes his body feel hot with need, chasing his climax. your soft sounds each time his tip grazes your soft spot are an aphrodisiac, and he feels himself growing impossibly harder inside you, so aroused it almost hurts. 

"haechan, i'm cumming," you moan, and his fingers put more pressure on your clit, as you bounce on him, eager for release. 

"keep saying my name," he breathes, pulling you close, your bodies moving frantic and unsteady against each other, as you cum, mouthing his name against his skin. he empties himself into the condom soon after, hips still jolting as he helps you ride out the aftershocks of your climax, your breaths echoing loud in the car.

you almost wanted to ask for round 2 — and you were sure he would give it to you, if you had asked. instead you stay silent, feeling emptier than ever as he pulls out, your body draining of his warmth as he cleans you with wipes from his glove compartment, kissing you sweetly whenever your eyes met. the water bottle he procured from the passenger seat of the car making you wonder if this was his plan all along, as you sipped quietly, as he put your address in his phone to take you home. 

—

you can feel him slip away from you on the drive back. 

a sea of red and green lights move across the planes of his face as you watch him drive, one hand on the wheel and the other touching your hand softly on the centre console. you give his fingers a faint squeeze and he smiles, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a light kiss to your fingertips. 

when you reach the next intersection, he pulls his hand from yours and puts it back on the steering wheel. 

when he makes his next turn, his shoulders start to tense and the easy, relaxed expression on his face morphs into a stony one. 

and when he finally pulls up in front of your apartment building, turning to face you, the glowing streetlights illuminating the outlines of his face do nothing to soften the blow of seeing him like this again — looking at you with half-lidded eyes, almost lazy in his power. 

"are you coming to the next show?"  

"i want to," you respond, your voice small. "...should i?" 

"it doesn't really matter to me." his fingers tap against the wheel, restlessly. "i just hope you know you shouldn't wait around afterwards." 

you bite your lip. "i know." 

he nods. "so you know this is over?" 

"i know." 

"good girl." it feels like a punch to the stomach, and you inhale, sharply, hands gripping the handle of the car door. waiting for him to dismiss you, as he always did. 

but then he's speaking again, breaking the silence. his voice is softer, a little more hesitant – "do you need me to walk you up?" he's not looking at you, eyes trained on his dashboard. "will you be okay?" 

it's cruel, the way your heart stutters in your chest. you take one last look at him, trying to memorize everything — the sharp line of his jaw, his collarbones, the joints of his fingers, the way his pinky finger crooks slightly to the right. the faint smell of vanilla and something darker, mixed with his warmth. you try to memorize it because you're sure this is the last time you'll be so close to him again, both in proximity, and in the way his voice aches with something close to tenderness. in that moment, you know if you told him you needed him, he would turn off the engine and open your car door, holding you safe against his chest and walking you up to your apartment. but what for? for him to shut off on the way up the elevator, and turn into a stranger at your door? 

"it's fine," you murmur, and you don't wait for a response before stepping out into the warm night. 

—

your ribs press against the barrier, and you wince slightly. the crowd screams loud in your ear, as the boy in front of you looks up from his guitar at the crowd in front of him, dark gaze sliding over faces, tongue poking at his cheek and puffy lips stretched. 

his eyes briefly meet yours, and your heart skips a beat. 

and then he's looking back down at his guitar again, lips pursed in concentration. 

the next time he glances up, the familiar glint is back, eyebrows drawn together. there was something strange about the way he was looking at you, not exactly meeting your eyes. was he looking at your clothes? your hair? or… 

"oh my god!" 

you shoot a brief glance back, at the girl who's just let out a squeal. she claps her hands over her mouth, eyes shining as she stares adoringly at haechan, unblinking. you don't have to check to know he's staring right back — you know the look on her face a little too well. 

the disappointment and jealousy weighing on your chest is entirely unjustified, but you feel it heavy in your bones, anyway. 

he had meant every word: it was truly over. 

–

"did anyone see you?" 

"no," you whimper, as he mouths over the seat of your panties, tongue lapping at your folds through the fabric. 

"good girl," he pants, letting out a satisfied groan when he tugs them down your legs, burying his face in between your legs with a lewd moan. 

but if it was truly over, why did he find you after the show last week, – slipping by you to tell you to meet him in the upstairs master bedroom, where he fingered you open in front of the mirror?

if it was truly over, why did a stagehand stop you from leaving after the next show you went to, passing you a note that told you to wait at the back entrance of the venue? 

"fuck fuck fuck-"

and if it was truly over, why was he currently in between your spread legs, his mouth and chin covered with your juices as you lay on his bed?

"need you now, princess." his fingers brush your clit, and your thighs shake with overstimulation. "are you okay? i can wait-" 

"don't wait," you plead, pulling him towards you. he follows, propping himself up on his arms as his face reaches yours, his lips gently nudging your own apart, letting you taste yourself on his tongue when he kisses you. his sticky hands stroke your sides, leaving trails on your skin. "haechan –" 

he interrupts you with another kiss. freckling more kisses down your neck, he smiles against the mark he left days ago, fading slightly now. "i missed this," he murmurs, and your heart stings, a collection of memories surfacing in your mind – of his eyes avoiding yours at shows. of him waiting onstage for someone else. of him smiling at you cordially, face blank as if he were greeting you for the first time when he talked to you in front of other fans. 

"did you really?" 

he doesn't respond, latching his lips to your skin with a hum, hands cupping your breasts in one swift motion, fingers teasing over your nipples and making your body arch into his touch. 

"haechan…"  

"what do you want, princess?" he wanders lower, licking at your cleavage. your mind threatens to blank when he circles a fingertip around your areola, puffy wet lips closing around a nipple and sucking wetly. "hm?" 

"want you to fuck me…" your voice is shaky, but you press on. "like how you were gonna fuck that girl."  

his hands still for just a brief second. you can see your words hit him, understanding and lust flickering in his responding laugh. he focuses his eyes back on your face, hands now coming up to brush your lips, caressing your cheek, smoothing over your skin almost lovingly.

this is how he was going to fuck her? 

"open up," he murmurs, fingers pressed to your bottom lip. as if stuck in a trance, your lips part. 

a wet mess of saliva, still mixed with traces of your arousal, drips down from his tongue into your mouth, connecting your lips with his in a glossy sheen. his lips tug into a smile as he sees your blown-out pupils, arousal completely overriding his every thought. 

his fingers trace your jaw. "swallow," he commands, sweetly, and as always you do exactly as he says. 

you feel something shift against your upper thigh, your hips rising on instinct to buck against his hard length, still trapped behind his ripped jeans. 

his low groan is interrupted by a sharp rattling of the doorknob, followed by a thud against the door. both of you still, eyes focused on the locked door, straining your ears to hear the voices outside. 

"are you sure no one saw you?" haechan asks, quietly. "did jisung see you? mark? jeno?"

"i don't think so," you mumble. 

that was the arrangement you had come up with a little over a week ago, discussed in heated kisses and bliss-induced haze. you could keep seeing haechan, as long as you never saw the rest of the band again. on nights when he knew he wanted you, you would slip through crowds like a ghost to make your way into warm beds and cold bathrooms, saving him from the jealousy, and saving you from the questions. 

of course, there were a few nights where no message would find you, where he wouldn't grab your wrist as you brushed past him in a hallway, his hands distracted with someone else. those nights used to make you cry, your entire being aching for his attention, his indifference just as bruising as his care. 

the doorknob rattles again, and there's a knock on the door. 

"haechan? are you in there?" 

mark's voice. 

"they're back early from the party," haechan mumbled. to your shock, he ignores them and tugs off his shirt roughly, revealing delicate tanned skin dotted with moles, looking soft-to-touch. 

"haechan," mark's voice is exasperated. "i thought we agreed not to bring girls to our apartment." 

haechan rolls his eyes as his hands go to his belt, ridding himself of his pants and underwear. you can see the muscles in his thighs tense as he makes his way up the bed, hands holding your hips.

"you wanted me to fuck you like the other girls?" he murmurs, low so only you can hear. "well. on your knees." 

"but mark is –" you break off, seeing the way his eyes narrow, something dangerous flickering in his pupils. "but…but they're outside," you whisper. as if to prove your point, mark bangs on the door again. 

and then jisung's voice, low and urgent comes through the door. "who is he even with? the girl he left the show with was alone when i saw her."

"god, are they all outside the door?" haechan grumbles, focusing his attention back on you when you let out a small sound of distress. "forget about them," he soothes, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. his mouth moves over yours searingly, possessive and all-consuming in the way he pushes his tongue into your mouth. "on your knees," he commands, quietly, against your mouth. "i won't ask again." 

a thrill runs down your spine as you flip over, his large hands adjusting you so your back arches, head pressed into the pillows as he holds your hips up. he presses a kiss to your back as he reaches off the bed for a condom, rolling it onto his hard length with a soft groan. you look over your shoulder, see him stroking himself, mouth hanging open. 

"hurry," you plead. you can feel slick on your thighs from the way he ate you out earlier, growing wetter from anticipation. "please." 

he ignores you. "can you be quiet for me?" he mumbles. outside, you can hear the boys discussing something heatedly, voices low so you can't make out the words. "don't want anyone else to hear you."

"yes," you promise, meekly. 

"good girl." he lines himself up to your entrance, reaching around to rub your clit as he runs the tip of his cock against your folds. you let out a shaky breath at the feeling, trying hard not to let it catch your vocal cords. 

one hand on your hip and the other stroking your lower back, he pushes in slowly, letting you adjust to his girth. you feel a sting as he stretches your walls, filling you up deeply while burying himself inside you. he murmurs for you to relax, listening to you take shallow breaths, the way your hole flutters around his length making him want to thrust forward, relieve his own ache. 

"haechan, are you asleep?" 

there's a sharp rap on the door, and haechan curses as it makes you tighten around him, gummy walls gripping him like a vice, as if begging for his cum. 

"you liked that, baby?" his voice is low, and mocking. you whimper. "you like the idea of them coming in and seeing you like this? letting me take you like a slut?" 

"haechan, we know you're in there." now it's jeno's rough voice, devoid of its usual warmth. "we saw the shoes at the door. we need to talk." 

haechan pulls out until only his tip is still inside you, and slams back in aggressively, filling you to the brim. he starts to build a rhythm, thrusting deep and slow inside you, letting you feel the drag of him against your walls as he strokes your clit with his fingers. he was taking his time with you — pausing to lean forward and press kisses to your shoulders, mouthing messily over your skin. 

"haechan, please -" you try to keep your voice quiet, but he chooses this time to fuck you a little harder, picking up the pace, and your mouth hangs open as your aborted whimpers turn into drawn out moans.  

"hm?" he prompts, faking nonchalance. but you can feel that the pace is affecting him too, his breathing growing heavier as he speeds up a little more. 

"harder," you mumble, words feeling thick and slow in your mouth. "faster. fuck," 

a bang on the door. the loud sound makes you jolt, and haechan hisses as you clench down on him harshly again, your thighs inching closer together, creating a tighter fit around his thick cock. 

"i wonder why they're not coming in yet." his voice in your ear is low, sultry. the kind he uses on-stage when he's teasing the crowd. 

"i-isn't the door l-locked?" 

"sure…but it's a really old lock. i know mark could open it if he really wanted to. he's done it before when i'm late for rehearsals, ah fuck-" he's slamming himself into you, barely pulling out before pushing in again, wet sounds filling the room. "fuck, you must really like that. how do you just keep getting tighter and tighter, hm?" 

"haech–" 

"maybe i'll ask them to come in…" he muses, his tone sickly sweet. "i just know you'll cum hard on my cock when they open the door, right? let them see how filthy you are?" 

"don't –", you choke. 

"should i tell them not to come in?" 

"no," you gasp, and he laughs, darkly. 

"no, i should tell them to come in?" he asks between breathless pants, pace unrelenting as the lewd sound of skin against skin fills the room. "you want me to talk to them baby?" 

you let out an incoherent mumble, no longer sure of anything. 

he coos at that. "dumb already, princess?" his hand wanders up to your chest, blunt nails haphazardly scraping across your nipples. your hips push back onto him instinctively, fucking yourself onto his length, your hips chasing pleasure from the sensitivity as you cum. 

"haechan, i'm not leaving until you open the door." another thud, as mark sits down. 

"fuck…" haechan's only half listening to mark as he throws his head back, murmuring curses as he feels you clench around him, milking his cock. it takes all the self control he has to place his hands on your waist, stilling your movements as he pulls out of you. he's so hard that it hurts, and he knows his release is close, but he still shifts your body until you're lying on your back, and he can see your tear-streaked face, drool smeared all over your chin. 

you mouth his name soundlessly, fresh waves of tears gathering on your waterline as you see him move away from you, and you try to sit up to keep him in your line of sight. 

"haechan, –" 

"i'm here," he murmurs, one hand immediately finding yours and squeezing, the other grappling for the water bottle on the bedside table. he unscrews the cap with one hand as he moves towards you, helping you prop yourself up against the headboard. "drink." 

he holds the bottle up to your lips, but you shake your head. "want you," you whisper, even though your mouth feels warm and sticky, your throat dry from moaning. you can't focus on anything except for the emptiness inside you, your clit throbbing whenever you shift your thighs together slightly. you're focused on his hard length, the slope of his shoulders down to his slender waist. you shake your head again, knocking the bottle against your lips and spilling a little bit of the water onto the sheets. 

"don't be a brat." his voice is low, a dangerous sort of patience in his tone. "drink, or i won't give you what you want." 

you swallow, his voice washing over you, pulling you under. this time when he raises the bottle to your lips, you hold it with shaky hands, letting water trickle down your throat. his own hand comes up, touching two fingers to your neck gently, making sure you were drinking instead of pretending by feeling for the movement of your throat.  

"done?" he watches you lick your parted lips, dewy with water and saliva, and takes the bottle from you, placing it back on the stand. "do you want to keep going?" 

you nod, slowly. 

"use your words," he commands, quietly. 

"please don't stop," you plead, shuffling towards him. it feels like the fog has cleared slightly in your head, the water making the heat haze dissipate. vaguely, you're sure that mark, jisung, and jeno must know what you were doing – must have heard the headboard thumping against the wall, haechan's low groans and your breathless whimpers. 

you wonder what mark is thinking now, outside, not leaving and yet not breaking in like haechan said he could. it sends a wave of arousal down to your core, some part of you wanting him to see the way you break for haechan, completely and wholly his. your way of rejecting him without having to see his face – your way of explaining why you ignored him whenever he caught your eyes during shows and after-parties. 

haechan reads you easily, observing the way your eyes flicker to the door. he's torn between opening the door himself — letting mark see you on his bed, fucked stupid by him, or stepping outside and telling mark to leave because no one should see or hear you like this but him. 

"do you want me to tell mark to leave?" 

"n-no," you hesitate. "don't."

he raises his eyebrows. "why?" 

"w-want him to know that i'm yours," you mumble, a hand wrapping around his thigh and squeezing. 

haechan's eyes darken. “mine?” he echoes, quietly, almost gently.

you're so focused on the shift in his features – the set of his jaw, the way he tenses, that you barely notice he's sliding off the bed and picking you up effortlessly so that you cling to his upper body, legs gripping his waist. his lip curls into a smile, head tilted mockingly as he starts to walk, strong arms holding you up.

your back hits solid wood, and you gasp. 

"haechan?" mark's voice is crystal clear on the other side of the door. 

haechan adjusts his grip, pushing you against the door as he slides his tip along your dripping cunt, making you squirm in his hold. 

"be good, hm?" he whispers, as he pushes into you, eyes squeezing shut and jaw dropping open at the feeling of your walls sucking him back in, pulsing along his length and making his cock throb. when he opens his eyes again, his gaze is unfocused, hazy, and you can see that this situation is heightening his arousal, causing his thrusts to be sloppy and unfocused as he chases his own high. each time he pushes into you, the weight of his hips snapping against yours pushes against the door, and you hear it jolt a little, the lock jiggling.

mark's shouted expletive rings against your ears, mirrored by haechan's own as he captures your lips in a kiss. the feeling is familiar and new at the same time, his tongue sliding languidly over yours, swiping against your bottom lip. at the sight of your parted mouth and wet lips, he moans again, and without hesitating he spits into your waiting mouth, sloppy and messy, causing it to dribble past your lips and down your chin. 

the rhythm against the door is unmistakable, and you can hear footsteps as mark runs off. haechan laughs, a pleased hum in his chest that vibrates against your own as he leans into you, and he mouths down your neck, biting at your shoulder and letting his low groan scrape against his throat as a growl. you cum when your stiff nipples brush against his chest, the tiny bit of stimulation just enough to throw you over the edge into your orgasm, your thighs clenching around him as you sob, your core aching. 

the feeling of your walls rippling around his length is too much to bear, and he barely lets you ride out your orgasm on him before he's pulling out of you and carrying you back to his bed. haechan tugs off the condom urgently as you lie there, tired and spent, watching as he strokes his length, fast, eyes fluttering open and shut with lust, his hips thrusting forward uncontrollably. his thumb ghosts just under the head of his cock, and then he's cumming all over your stomach and chest, sticky white spurts pooling on your skin. 

you watch him out of half-lidded eyes as his breathing slows, collapsing next to you in a heap. the high from the sex hasn't faded yet – the consequences of being heard by all his bandmates hasn't hit you, as you bask in the temporary glow of being his. 

a finger traces along the cum on your stomach, haechan transfixed by the sight. curious, your hands grab for the small mirror on his bedside table, and he comes out of his daze, handing it to you wordlessly. 

in the moonlight, the marks he's made on your skin blur with the shadows. no part of you looks untouched — your tear-streaked face and kiss-swollen lips, bruises on your hips and the sting of the bite mark on your shoulder. your hands tremble a little as you focus the mirror on where his fingers play with his drying cum on your skin, tracing lines and curves. 

"'m yours," you mumble out. 

"yeah?" he chokes. "mine?" 

dazedly, you point to your neck. "yours." 

he groans, just watching you, eyes roving over your body. "you're beautiful," he whispers. you think he means it.

"more." your voice is quiet. 

"no more, baby," he murmurs, looking up at you with concern. "it's too much for you." 

you shake your head. "these could be from anyone," you point at the marks on your neck. his body tenses, hands stiff on your skin. "i want to be yours." 

slowly, your words settle over him. he looks at you with an unreadable expression, the kind you see right before he strikes his first chord, the moment his eyes find yours in the crowd. a dark sort of determination, in the way his holds your gaze. 

he reaches over, and opens a drawer. you can hear the sound of things knocking around inside as he roots his hand around, finally emerging with an eyeliner pen. through the mirror, you can see his hands splayed out over the space just under your breasts, pulling the skin over your ribcage taut. his tongue pokes out into the lower corner of his mouth as he places the tip of the pen to your skin. 

he loops once. skids the pen downwards. jerks it up harshly, ending off with jagged motions, each brush trailing ink on your skin. 

when he's done he leans backwards, raising his eyebrows, asking you wordlessly if this was finally enough. his signature on your body, next to the bruises and marks and last remnants of his cum on your skin. 

—

"haechan?" 

he doesn't respond, but a part of you expects it already – you've memorized the way he leaves. 

"why didn't you fuck that girl tonight?" 

he takes his time, taking a long sip from his bottle of wine. from where you lie on the bed, you can just see the broad frame of his back, his side profile as he looks out of the window and at the moon, bright in the sky, the milky glow illuminating his skin. without his makeup, he looked like just a boy – pretty features almost dainty on his face. it's his hands which break the facade, calloused and rough, with veins that make your head spin when you think about them for too long, holding the bottle up to his lips. 

"didn't feel like it." 

you think about his answer, blinking slowly from the sleepiness. "why did you fuck me?" 

he faces forward, away from you. "felt like it."  

"why?" 

"i'm beginning to question that too," he replies, bluntly.

hurt aches in your bones, as silence rings loud in your ears. "if you don't want me here i can just go," you say, softly, and you're sure your voice sounds as wounded as you feel. "you've cleaned me up. i can leave if you want." 

you can see him stiffen, his shoulders tensing up. 

"where's jaemin?" 

of course. sitting up, you wince at the ache between your legs. "he's probably asleep," you answer, bitterly. "but i can just call a cab –"

his back muscles tense, and then he's shifting from where he sits on the edge of the bed. sliding into the space next to you, he rests back against the headboard, legs stretched out over the sheets. a hand wraps around yours. 

"ask me easier questions," he mumbles, turning your palm over so he can lace your fingers together, giving them a reassuring squeeze. 

your breath stutters. 

"what did you talk about? with the band?" 

after cleaning you up and tucking you into bed, haechan had finally stalked out of the bedroom to talk to mark, jisung and jeno. he hadn't said a thing when he returned, holding a bottle of wine, placing it on the bedside table before stepping into the bathroom wordlessly to remove his makeup. 

haechan blinks down slowly at your intertwined hands. "they asked me what was going on." 

"what?" 

"i've been losing focus," he mumbles. "during shows and during rehearsal. and jeno noticed i kept ditching girls at parties, said it wasn't like me to not be fucking around at all." 

a beat. 

you bite your lip. "you're…you're losing focus?" 

but he just shakes his head. "they're wrong." 

you can see that the topic is upsetting him, so you rush to ask another question. "do you write any of the songs that the band play?" 

he raises his eyebrows. "so you care so much about the band now? does that mean you're a fan?" 

he ignores your mumbled excuse, squeezing your hand again to let you know he was teasing. "mark usually writes the songs," he answers. "i don't have much to write about." and then, with a little more force, "ask me questions about me, not the band."

"what does this tattoo mean?" you place the tip of your finger just below his ribcage, where there's a small doodle of a bear paw. 

"people say i look like a bear," he mumbles, a little shy. even in the moonlight, his pouty lips and round cheeks are evident, his shoulders broad as he slumps against the headboard. 

"i see it," you confirm, and a smile flickers on his face. 

"yeah?" he looks over at you, and his free arm loops around your shoulder, squeezing you into his side. his affection buzzes in your veins, as you try to divert his attention with another question. 

"and what does this tattoo mean?" your other hand comes up again, now to trace at the sunflower peeking out from the base of his neck, trailing down to his shoulder. 

he takes a deep breath. "my sister picked it." 

"sister?" 

"baby sister," he adds, softly. "she just turned six. this is her favorite flower." 

"oh." 

"why?" he tilts his head, bumping your own gently. "do i not seem like an older brother?" 

"i think…" you hum, contemplating. "not when you're onstage," you decide.

"do you think i'm different? from when i'm onstage?" 

"i don't know you enough to judge," you say, truthfully. aside from the sex, and from the brief moments right after when it felt like he was truly there, holding you, the haechan you knew was mostly the one flooded with stage lights, the kind of boy you had to beg to earn his attention. 

haechan goes quiet, his hand on yours stilling, and you turn to look at him. tension is filling up the room, slow and thick like a fog, and you can't breathe against the weight of everything — the weight of his gaze, the almost boyish way his eyes flick down to your lips and back up to meet yours. 

"do you want to?" 

you bite your lip. 

maybe two weeks ago your heart would have leapt, maybe you would have begged for the opportunity to have him closer. 

but your body has already had time to learn disappointment, to defend yourself against his callousness and his cold, learning the art of slipping in and out of intimacies. every line crossed, every boundary blurred. 

"do i want to?" you echo, and you see him falter. 

maybe his own words held more weight than he'd anticipated. 

"you don't?" 

or maybe he was just scared to hear your answer. 

"will you let me?" you reflect the question back to him. his fingers twitch against your shoulder where he's still holding you.

there were some nights where it felt as if he was taking his adrenaline out on your body, or where he was making you forget the fear of being caught by overriding your senses with pleasure. there were others when you fell so deep into a headspace, that he would care for you gently, something romantic and tender in the negative space between your bodies. 

and ultimately all of these nights ended the same – the same curl of his lip, his face closed-off, his voice too steady and unfeeling.

"how would you let me know you?" it's only when he flinches when you catch the harshness to your tone, your own words leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. "by barely letting things slip every night?" 

"y/n…" it's not meant as a warning. your name is spoken softly, with an ache in it that makes goosebumps rise up your arms. "i thought you were fine." 

"i am," you insist, feeling defensive. "i'm fine with you pretending you don't know me, or when you disappear on the drive home." 

"y/n, –" 

"just…don't say things if you don't mean them," you finish, mumbling your words to mute the hurt in them. 

there's a long silence. 

and then, his voice, so delicate and fragile, like he was afraid his words would bruise the space between him and you. 

"we're playing at a bar this friday." 

you make a sound of confusion, and he continues on. "it's only for a few fans who won some sort of a lucky draw. they get to talk to us and get autographs." 

"i didn't enter," you cut in, but still he continues on, as if he was trying to get the words out before he lost his nerve.

"i'm inviting you now. and….and afterwards i'll leave with you and we can go to my place." he swallows. "my real apartment. not this one i share with the band." he lets out a shaky breath. "i don't… i don't usually bring girls there, if you can't tell."  

"but…" the wheels in your head are turning slowly, as you try to catch up with what he's saying. "but if i'm there… and it's such a small crowd…the band is going to see that i'm there. 

"they will," he confirms quietly. 

"they're going to know you invited me. because i'm not a fan." 

his lips twitch. "but you like me, no?" 

"i do," you concede, absentmindedly. "but i thought you said…the band…" 

"i don't think i really care about that anymore." his thumb dips low, brushing over the space under your ribs where his name is temporarily tattooed against your skin. "i…" he hesitates, before his thumb swipes against your skin again, and he takes a deep breath. "i told them about you. just now." 

you feel like you're falling – a sense of vertigo making your head spin.

"what did you say?" 

"just that…there was a you," he finished, lamely. "that we see each other more, but it's nothing." his hand squeezes yours, a gentle pulse. "nothing yet, anyway."

"i'll take it," you murmur, holding his hand clasped in both of yours and kissing him lightly on his fingertips. his face crumples, his chest caving in on itself with the weight of the tenderness he feels for you in that moment, and he leans in, tilting his head, eyes fluttering closed. 

he kisses you like it's a promise, close-lipped and earnest. it feels almost like the two of you are finally on even ground. 

— 

"what are you trying to do?" 

you jump, as the light in the small kitchenette flicks on. dirty dishes pile up in the sink, mugs scattered over the countertop, and the boy leaning against the fridge focuses his gaze on you. his voice is gentle, a mellow sort of sweetness undercut by the deepness of his voice. not in the way jisung's was deep, but a bass to it that gave it authority, one that the boy seldom had to use. 

"what do you mean?" 

jeno tilts his head. "y/n, do you know why haechan likes to fuck girls after his shows?" 

the sweetness on your tongue from haechan's kiss decays into bitterness. 

jeno doesn't seem to care. "he gets high off the feeling of the crowd. it's something he doesn't want to let go of, so he finds someone who adores him and makes them prove it." his eyes bore into yours, unblinking. "he doesn't care who he's with, y/n. he just likes the way they sound, screaming his name." 

"but why doesn't-" you choke. it  feels almost like you're betraying him. "why doesn't he date?" 

jeno raises his eyebrows, and you feel pathetic. it’s a long time before he finally answers.

"all the girls are only after the version of him onstage. it's him they like, and haechan's just extending the performance. would you want to date someone who only liked one side of you?"

"but i don't just like that side of haechan," you protest, weakly. even then, you don't know what other sides you're alluding to — was it his gentleness with you? how he always held you after? the one who let his baby sister pick his tattoos?

"y/n?" 

a soft voice sounds out from the corridor leading off into the bedrooms. sleep-ridden syllables mumbling out into the still air, calling your name. 

"where are you? is everything okay?"

jeno's looking at you with someone like pity in his eyes, the way your body turns towards his voice like an instinct. "haechan isn't even his real name, did you know that?" 

he crosses over to you, and places his mug into the sink behind your back. "try not to get too loud," he murmurs. "we're all tired." 

and as haechan pulls you into his warm embrace, palms wandering over your skin, you bite your tongue and keep as quiet as possible.

—

haechan's head snaps up as he sees the door swing open again and more girls wander into the bar. there are excited squeals and shouts as they spot the band, he can hear mark's warm laugh and see jisung's wave out of his peripheral vision. behind him, jeno's methodically checking on his drum kit, and haechan can feel his eyes on the back of his neck, as if he knew. 

his eyes scan the crowd again, praying he was wrong. but deep down he knows he would recognise your voice anywhere, be able to spot your features even in total darkness. 

and right now, you weren't there at all. 

his body goes on autopilot, muscle memory kicking in as he plays the chords, does his solos, nods along to the music. the crowd is frenetic, watching the way his eyebrows are drawn together, tonguing at his cheek, his lips downturned — the anger tense in his body making them whisper to themselves, wondering why this was part of his performance today. he keeps his expression slack as he signs autographs, nodding curtly towards fans as they bid him goodbye timidly, intimidated by his stormy gaze. 

he doesn't understand why it makes his insides twist, each time he searches the crowd and darts his eyes back to his guitar. maybe he'd just gotten used to seeing you front row at his shows. maybe that was all this was — and you were a bad habit he should have broken. 

it's what he tells himself as he lets his hands brush against the girl's as she holds her poster out to him, smiling a close-lipped smile, eyes dragging up and down his body excitedly. he lets her think it's a part of the performance, as he rails her in the bathroom of the bar, his eyes squeezed shut as she moans his name into the sink, trying to ignore the way her body didn't react at all like yours did, that his hands couldn't find purchase on her skin at all, and her voice made him want to crawl out of his skin. 

you were a bad habit he should break — at least that's what he tells himself to keep him sane.

taglist: @neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @simpforarmihn @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @smwhrinthehaze (sorry there were q a few i couldn't tag!)

#this is so amazingly good #i've never read something so well written??? #like it felt so natural and real yk??? #1000/10 i love this #faves! #hyuckie #haechan smut #smut

[faesficfix]

now why on earth would you END ITTHERE I NEED MORE OF THIS IMMEDIATELY-

Invisible String

Genre: friends to lovers; slow burn; smut

Pairings: Na Jaemin x Female Reader

Warnings: slow slow burn, lots of denial, mild sexual content (18+)

Notes: 25.4k words, song prompt was Invisible String by Taylor Swift

Synopsis: Na Jaemin was an old friend who never became anything else other than that, a friend. But after a series of life decisions that led you to move from your small town to the big city, you slowly find out that maybe, after all these years, Jaemin was never just a friend.

The building stood massively right in front of you, a thirty-storey condominium apartment where you somehow managed to snag a good deal in a unit owned by your friend who opted to rent out the place when she moved overseas. It didn't matter to you that you were a renting tenant in this beautiful residential building, you're just glad to have found a home and move in smoothly.

You made it on time inside before one of the elevators closed. You got in clutching your bag's handle, giddy and excited to get home and get ready for the housewarming party your friends organized. You almost didn't notice that you were inside with another guy. You were busy being all giggly while chatting with your bestfriend on your phone. You discreetly inspected his appearance, tall and slightly muscular. The height difference made it impossinle to get a good look of his face without being noticed so you didn't. You wondered if he was a resident or if he was visiting someone. You weren't even that interested about it, your mind just randomly went toward those thoughts.

It was when you shifted your focus in front of you that you realized you can clearly see your reflection on the elevator door. You moved your head slightly on one side to check you hair only to find the guy's face reflected in the mirror, smiling at you.

He looks like Na Jaemin, you thought and then the realization made you gasp. You turned to him, one hand over your mouth and your eyes wide in recognition.

Jaemin laughed at your reaction and lifted one hand for a small wave. "Hello."

"Wow, it really is you," you blurted out, a smile slowly creeping on your lips.

"You seem happy to see me," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows and making you chuckle.

"Are you kidding me? Of course I am. It's good to see you!" you said, gently nudging your elbow on his arm.

"You too," he beamed. "What brings you here? Judging how surprised you were to see me, I can't possibly be the reason."

There's the Jaemin you know, playful and acts egocentric for the sake of being funny. He was one of your friends from high school with whom you shared the rest of your teenage life with. You kept in touch through the years but you rarely met because of obvious reasons.

"I just moved here. Do you live here too? That's amazing."

"I know. It's a small world."

You both laughed and for a moment you couldn't think of anything else to say. You were just baffled by the coincidence.

"How about some drinks later tonight? We can catch up or something. That is if you don't already have plans," he offered and it felt as though a switch was flicked in your brain when you remembered something.

"Ah, that reminds me. You should come to my house warming. Donghyuck organized it. Didn't he tell you?"

Jaemin appeared to think before fishing his phone from his jean pocket. "Actually, he did two days ago. I just haven't read it yet."

You rolled your eyes. "You still ignore his texts?"

"Only because he nags all the time. If it's important, he can call me."

You laughed fondly, realizing how little has changed. "So are you coming?"

"Of course. I'd love to. Hyuck would drag me there anyway if I don't go."

"Knowing you live in the same building, I figured he would," you quipped.

Jaemin did not only agree to come to your housewarming, he also offered to help you prepare. Although you said he doesn't have to because your friends would be bringing most of the food, you didn't argue when he insisted. Jaemin had always been the type to extend a helping hand anytime, especially to his friends.

It was still early so you did a little cleaning even though there really isn't much to clean. Then you texted your bestfriend Heejin to let her know Jaemin is coming. She was excited to meet another friend of yours from high school and said they'll be over as soon as possible. Jaemin then arrived and you open up the door to him holding stacked containers of side dishes.

"Oh, wow. That's a lot," you commented, opening the door wider for him to pass through. "Thank you."

"I haven't prepared an actual housewarming gift so I brought you side dishes instead," he explained as he set the container to the dining table where you led him to. "They're new. My mom just brought them yesterday. And you can return the containers after you've finished everything."

"This is enough, Jaemin. You didn't have to so thank you. And I love your mom's cooking. I'm sure these will be great."

"I'm glad you like it," he said, leaning his waist against the countertop as he watch you arrange the dishes in your fridge.

"She talks about you all the time when I go there to eat," you added, smiling as you remembered having late night drinks and barbecue at their restaurant back in your town. "Always telling everyone about her handsome chef of a son."

A fond smile flashed on his lips. "She does that a lot."

You glanced back at him, mirroring his smile. "I know. It's adorable.

There is not much to cook since your friends were bringing food too and there's not much to talk about either because you're not really detached with one another. You and Jaemin were in a close circle friends so you would meet at least twice or thrice a year to catch up and share significant moments of your lives with each other. Not to mention Thanksgiving when you would all be in your hometown and you would make sure to meet up. As for Jaemin, the last time you saw each other was at your father's funeral five months ago, which was sad now that you were reminded of it.

"Have you been well?" he asked after a while. You had been sitting in your living room after you were done with the preparations, both focusing on your phones to pass the time. "How's home?"

"Well, as much as losing a loved one sucks, we went on with our lives. First few weeks were difficult but we got by. Eventually, we got back on our feet."

"Good for you," he smiled, setting his phone face-down on his thigh. He stared at you for a while and you couldn't bring yourself to look away. No words were shared between the two of you, just comforting smile from him and an acknowledging nod from you. And then your doorbell rang, signalling what you assumed was the arrival of your friends. You both made a move for the door, stopping halfway to look at each other.

"I'll do it. It would be weird if you did."

He laughed. "Yeah, I realized that."

You made your way to the foyer just in time for the doorbell to ring again. On the door monitor, you could see your friends faces, waiting for you to open up.

"Welcome to my house," you beamed at them as soon as you opened the door. Hyuck pushed through your cheering girl friends and raised the champagne bottle he was holding.

"Welcome to the big city!" With a soft pop, the bottle was opened and he shook it with so much force that it squirted champagne everywhere within your space. You and the girls shrieked, running back inside to escape Donghyuck's champagne shower.

You were all giggling as you wiped the alcohol on your skin. Seola found Jaemin looking comfortable sitting on the long sofa.

"Oh, Jaemin! I didn't know you were coming!" She waved a hand at him and received a nod and a smile in response.

"Well, coincidentally, he actually lives in the same building. Isn't it amazing?" you told Seola, guiding them from the foyer into the living room. The boys soon followed, laughing and pushing each other into the house with Hyuck still carrying the half-empty champagne bottle.

"Hyuck, I'm not gonna clean after your mess, you should know that," you chided as you helped Seola bring the food to the dining table.

"It was for you!" said Hyuck, following you into the kitchen. He stood behind you and ducked to place his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling affectionately. Then he showed you a nice bouquet of flowers. "Here, I got another one."

"Well, thank you, but I still won't clean it so..." You spun to face him and take the bottle and bouquet from his hand. Then you pulled him to the part of the house where you kept your cleaning materials. You opened up the small cabinet and took out a mop. "Get started on it now. We'll eat once you're done."

"Aw man," he complained but he trudged back to the doorway anyway.

You looked around to see which of your friends came. There's Jaemin and Hyuck. Seola was present with her boyfriend, Minho. Heejin came with them too and you wondered if anyone else is coming.

You rounded back to the kitchen and helped set the table. "Is this everyone?"

"Yes. Did you want more?" asked Heejin, tilting her head at you and smiling before swooping in to give you a quick peck on the cheek.

"Not really but I kinda imagined you bringing Jinyoung along," you replied, referring to her boyfriend. Heejin snorted.

"Nah, he's on the night shift." She does a double take. "You know what, I think he's on the 24-hour shift. He never gets a break. Let alone sleep."

"I don't think any first year resident doctor gets any sleep," you noted.

"Honestly, I have no idea. I just feel really bad for him."

You felt an elbow brush your right arm so you glanced that way and saw Jaemin placing cold cans of beer on the table. Your gazes met and he gave you a quick smile before leaving your side.

Heejin nudged your elbow and whispered in your ear. "Handsome as ever."

You shrugged, glancing at him to make sure he wouldn't hear you. In a low voice, you said, "I know. He was already good-looking back then, now he's even more handsome."

"You mean hot?" Heejin wiggled her eyebrows so you giggled.

"Yeah, I guess he is hot now," you agreed, giggling quietly with your bestfriend.

"Who's hot?" Hyuck's head popped between yours and Heejin's.

"Not you," Heejin snorted, pushing his face before walking away. You laughed at her antics. Hyuck and Heejin have always had a love-hate relationship. Heejin was your friend in the city before you moved to permanently live in your father's hometown. She would occasionally visit you there and that was how she met your friends. You remembered how Hyuck treated her so well that she fell for him only for her to find out that Hyuck was in fact, just trying to be nice. That's how their Tom and Jerry relationship began.

"It's good that you're here now. And it's even better that Jaemin lives in the same building. That means we can get together more often," Hyuck said as you all started to get seated for dinner. Conversations and laughter filled the table, with Hyuck and Seola bringing most of the humor.

When you moved to your living room for drinks, you found out that they had each brought housewarming gifts and blessed you for your new home. The conversations soon turned to random accounts of the past, when you were all teenagers living in the moment and enjoying your youth.

You were reminded of the time when you were all in your small town, a bunch of high school kids trying to survive school. You were the new kid at the time, a fresh face from Seoul. Seoul ws not that far from the town, but it was still a small town and everyone at school was interested with the new face, especially Hyuck who befriended you first. Like Heejin, you mistook his warmth for affection, but luckily for you, you weren't really considering any romance on your first year of high school so you let it pass.

Your friendship would go on for the next few years and you celebrated everything with them, birthdays, competitions, festivals, and even something as small as getting through the exam week. Your circle wasn't big, mostly just you, Donghyuck, Jaemin, and Seola. As well as Jeno and Eunbi, both you rarely see now because life has brought you apart.

"Honestly, if it wasn't for Jaemin telling Hyuck to invite you to lunch, you would be hanging out with a completely different set of friends throughout school," Seola said while you were talking about the time you first came to school.

"Jaemin did?" you questioned, genuinely surprised. It was news to you because you had always thought it was Hyuck who was adamant that you became a part of their circle.

"You didn't know that?" Hyuck asked, surprised. "Remember when you won silver medal during the swimming competition in third year and we brought you flowers that made you ugly cry?"

You exhaled, rolling your eyes when the embarassing memory flashed in your mind.

"Jaemin bought those flowers," Seola confirmed. You glanced up at Jaemin, who was sitting right behind you on the couch while you were on the floor. He just flattened his lips together, embarrassed to admit or deny the fact.

"That's actually very sweet," Heejin sang, tilting her head to the side for effect.

"Jaemin took care of her so well that we had a secret bet in 11th grade on whether they'd start dating or not," Seola confessed and that was the one fact that made you gasp audibly.

"You did? I had no idea!"

Seola smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, it was kind of the point of the whole bet being a secret, sweetheart."

You glanced at Jaemin again to inquire if he knew about the bet. Jaemin shrugged and shook his head.

Heejin turned to Seola and asked, "Who won that bet?"

"Hyuck and Jeno," Seola replied, grinning at Heejin. "But technically they both cheated because we had no idea Jeno was making a move on her and Donghyuck knew about it."

"To be fair, even Jaemin knew Jeno was into her," Hyuck defended. "It's you girls' fault for thinking Jaemin had a thing for her."

"You still cheated and haven't paid us back."

You suddenly remembered Jeno, the only guy you dated in high school. It was a pretty long relationship that lasted from the beginning to the end of senior year. But like most first loves, that one never came back. Not that you wished for it to come back, anyway. To you, being a teenager and falling in love was both an embarrassing and beautiful thing to reminisce about.

You hadn't plan on getting anyone drunk on this party, but it just happened after Donghyuck took out his secret stash of alcohol that he kept hidden from you and you couldn't do anything about it. After all, what kind of housewarming party would this be if they all went home sober? By midnight, you were tipsy and dizzy, leaning your back on the sofa while Jaemin's arm was stretch on the backrest. You were almost oblivious of the proximity because Hyuck was flush on your other side, drunkenly singing a super sad rendition of Day6's Beautiful. Heejin was passed out on the other sofa while Seola and her boyfriend are nowhere to be found.

"Gosh, I hope they're not doing it in my bedroom," you joked after you pointed out their absence by asking if they left without saying goodbye.

"Actually, they went that way." Jaemin pointed to the direction of your bathroom.

"Oh, that's so much worse. I hope they clean up after themselves."

You laughed about it for a bit, only to be silenced by Hyuck's out of tune, sharp-pitched, high note. Your eyes met Jaemin's and you stared at each other for a while before you both burst out laughing.

"How is he so out-of-tune when he can sing really well?" you asked, nudging Hyuck so he'd stop getting sandwiched between the two men.

"Yeah, he is a good singer. Remember when we went to a karaoke room after the swimming competition?"

"I do. There was a singing contest and he registered at the last minute. Wasn't it you who signed his parental consent form?"

Jaemin nodded with a grin. "And he won."

"He did. Talented bastard." You paused, looking at Hyuck who is now mumbling inaudibly while resting his head on the armrest of the sofa. "Ah, about that. Is it true you bought the flowers that day?"

Jaemin shrugged. "It's pretty normal to give someone flowers to congratulate them on something."

"Was it also your idea to give me flowers when I ranked third in the exams?" Jaemin nodded, reaching forward to grab a snack from the coffee table. "How about those other times?"

He chewed on some chips before annswering. "Most times. But the guys picked up on it after some time. Until it became a habit."

You remembered how the boys would give each of you a flower for birthdays, contests, and graduation. You remembered how Seola broke down crying when her parents weren't present during her cello recital but the boys in your circle each had one bouquet of flowers for her so she felt a bit better. You went to a karaoke room after that and sang your hearts out until you were told to leave before 10pm because you were all minors.

"It's cute how you influenced the boys to do something nice," you chimed, glancing at the direction of the vase where you placed the flowers Donghyuck brought tonight.

"I didn't really intend to, but I'll take the credit," he grinned. At that moment, the bathroom door opened where a giggling couple came out looking equally breathless and euphoric.

"You guys look cozy," Seola said as she lunged into you, making Jaemin move aside. You grimaced at her, pushing Seola's face away from you when she tried to hug you. Her boyfriend, Minho gave you a sheepish smile. He had always been shy and you felt bad that he matched with a force like Seola. At the same time, you were happy for him because Seola is the most loyal person you know.

Seola pulled away from you just far enough to kneel on the carpeted floor. Her eyes were focusing on your clothes then on Jaemin's. "Hey, you're coupling again."

"What?" you asked, looking down on your clothes. When you glanced at Jaemin, you realized that your cream sweater matched his cream pants while his grey t-shirt is the same shade as your grey sweatpants.

Seola let out a pitchy laugh. "You guys look cute."

"Okay, alright, time to go," Minho chided softly, gently taking Seola by the arm to help her up. To you, he said, "I should take her home. She has work tomorrow."

You gasped, standing up at once to help Minho. "Why didn't she say that? Gosh, she shouldn't have drunk too much."

"I know," he chuckled as you handed him Seola's purse. "Thanks."

You walked them to the door and told them to take care before they left. When you went back to the living room, Donghyuck was laying down the couch, his head comfortabley resting on Jaemin's lap.

"I'll take him back to my apartment. You should rest now," said Jaemin with which you responded with a nod.

As you helped Jaemin drag Hyuck out of your house, you give the mumbling drunk man a peck on his cheek before bidding them goodbye. Cleaning followed after closing the door but it hasn't been five minutes yet since Jaemin left when he came back.

"Need help cleaning up?" He asked but didn't even let you reply when he pushed through the door and went straight to the living room to clear out the table. He made himself comfortable too quickly that you didn't even have the chance to say you can do it all by yourself, so you decided to just leave him to it.

Heejin woke up when you shook her, helping her up into your bedroom and telling her to change first before going to sleep. When you went back out, Jaemin had just finished putting out the last dishes from the coffee table and was about to start washing them but you stopped him.

"I'll finish up here. You should get some rest too."

"Are you sure?" he asked but he was already taking off the gloves, covering a yawn with one hand. You nodded. "Alright, I'll take out the trash then."

"Thanks," you smiled as he grabbed the trash bag. He walked up to you and mumbled his thanks too.

"Thanks for having me. And you're welcome."

"No. I mean, really, thank you for helping me out. I'm pretty drowsy myself so, you're a life saver."

He just stood there, smiling as he examined your face. Then he touched your cheek with the back of his hand. "You're welcome. Good night."

The next morning, you woke up later than expected and found the space next to you empty. A text from Heejin told you that she had to leave early for work so you scolded her for getting drunk on a weekday. As for you, you just got accepted in your new work and will begin tomorrow but you need to drop by the office today to set up your desk. So after a quick bath, you took your car to the office, making sure to pass by the coffee shop right in front of the building to pick up some coffee for your colleagues in the PR team of the Marketing Department. Your team leader has briefed you about your team so you knew how many cups to buy. Much to your surprise, you found Jaemin in the counter, taking your order. He smiled upon seeing the surprise on your face.

"Did you have a good sleep?" he asked jovially.

"I did, thanks for asking. How about you? You seem energetic and fresh, it makes me jealous," you grumbled.

"Nothing a cup of coffee can't fix," he replied, repeating your order to you before he passed it on to the barista.

You were looking around when Jaemin got back to you. Amazement is evident in your eyes as you took in the interior of the whole cafe. Jaemin couldn't help but smile.

"What do you think?" he asked, prompting your attention.

"I think it looks amazing. Is this yours?" you questioned with a proud smile.

Jaemin shrugged but he nodded his head. You uttered a 'wow' that made Jaemin smile even wider.

"That's why the name was familiar," you noted, remembering that Jaemin's parents had set up the same cafe in your town less than a year ago. "It suits you."

"Because I love coffee?" he asked, stepping out of the counter to join you.

"Yeah. You're crazy for it," you laugheed mockingly. "I think addicted may be the right term."

Jaemin raised two hands. "Arrest me officer." You laughed at his lame retort and he did too. "What brought you to the area?"

"Here?"

"Not me, I assume. You're surprised to see me again."

You laughed because it was true. "No, not you. Actually, I'll start working there tomorrow." You pointed at the building across the street.

"The Marketing Firm?" he asked and you nodded. "That's great. Some employees there are regulars."

"I would assume so."

"Congratulations," he chimed before going back to the counter. You watched him move around while you waited for your order. After less the two minutes, he brings out the cups of coffee you ordered and a slice of cheesecake. "It's on the house. For good luck."

"No, no. I can't just take this for free," you insisted, taking out your card to pay for the cheesecake. But Jaemin crossed his arms over his chest to refuse. Seeing he would never take it, you stuffed it back into your wallet. "Thank you. I guess I could use some good luck."

"Just come find me here. I'll give you more of it."

You felt happy hearing that. For some reasons, your worries about moving here started dissipating. "Thanks. See you soon."

At the office, your desk had a few balloons on it and the team welcomed you with applause. You had a little time to get acquainted with them before they resumed their work and you started setting up. After about an hour, you bade them goodbye and your team leader even walked you out.

Early the next morning, you headed out for work. Since you arrive a bit early, you decided to drop by the cafe to get coffee and hopefully say 'Hi' to Jaemin. He wasn't there though, but you didn't think about it too much and just got yourself a nice cup of iced latte.

Work was work. It wasn't very tiring, but you had quite a lot of tasks on your first day. On your previous job, you would have complained about the workload, but since this was your first day, you were pretty energetic. PR management was quite difficult and your role is mainly on social media management. As a newbie, you were assigned with only one client first, a food brand. But other than handling their social media, you also had to prepare presentations on your online promotion approaches and techniques to be presented to the meeting by afternoon on that day.

At lunch, you got ready to leave with your colleagues, Yunseo and Jaehee, but a delivery arrived for you and it was a packed lunch from Jaemin's cafe.

"It's from the boss, ma'am," said the delivery guy who was actually a service crew from the cafe.

"Thank you. I appreciate it," you replied before bidding him goodbye and going back to your cubicle.

Yunseo called your name as she headed to your desk. "Are you still coming?"

"No, actually, I think I'll have my lunch here," you replied, looking up at her when she was by your desk.

"Oh, Nana's Cafe? That's where we're going for lunch," she said. "It's right across the street."

It came with a note saying he heard you were looking for him that morning and enclosed his number for you to contact.

"Is that a note?" Yunseo asked but you were quick to put it away and give her an awkward grin. Yunseo gave you a teasing look.

"Just come with us, eonnie," said Jaehee. "It would be lonely here by yourself."

There was no reason for you to decline and it was true it would be lonely to eat alone. Besides the fact that you want to get to know your co-workers better, you also don't want to seem like a loner. With the packed lunch in your hands, you joined them at the cafe for lunch where the four of you found a comfortable spot to sit in.

"The food is great here," Jaehee commented just as you all settled down after ordering.

"Yes, and the owner is handsome," Yunseo added, giggling as she brushed shoulders with you. "He's quite popular online too."

"You know what, I tried to get him to work with XO Foods but he declined. I guess he knows he's popular enough and won't need the exposure," Jaehee shared while you just nodded.

"How popular is he?" you asked, taking interest on the subject.

Yunseo pulled up the cafe's IG and sure enough, they are tagged in plenty of posts, with most of these posts featuring Jaemin himself. Sure you've seen the tags and insights about the cafe, but you had no idea the popularity was mainly due to Jaemin's visuals.

"It helps that he had several branches in the city and systematically works in one branch every day," Jaehee added. "On Wednesdays, he's here."

"Yeah, doesn't he have like, six branches all over Seoul?" Yunseo asked and Jaehee nodded in response.

"How do you know so much?" asked Woojin, your male colleague.

"Because I tried to get him on with XO Foods! I did a bit of research about him."

Yeonsu expressed that she had a crush on Jaemin and dropped by regularly every Wednesday to spot him. You found out that this place was dubbed Wednesday Branch because Jaemin is here on Wednesdays. He had six branches in Seoul has scheduled days on each branch. Yeonsu said he's probably at the Apgujeong branch today. Woojin, on the other hand, joked that Jaehee and Yeonsu are simps for the owner and he's just here because the food is top tier.

"He's a dreamboat, any girl would simp over him," Yunseo said dreamily. You looked down at the lunch that was delivered to you a while ago and hoped they wouldn't start asking where you got it from.

You realized just how much you didn't know about Jaemin. You knew he became a chef and had a restaurant, but not to this extent. And you cannot say it was because you weren't interested, rather it was because he speaks less about himself in a humble, reserved kind of manner. You realized you should have believed Hyuck when he went on about how Jaemin is the richest among your friend circle today. He was right, it seems. And as you all ate, you realized the food really was great.

Jaemin wasn't much of a cook as far as you remember, but he always cooked when you're hanging out at Jeno's place. It was his mom who made phenomenal food. His mother owned a small restaurant in your town that you frequented in. You hung out there to eat after exams, or games, and stuff. You even remember that you had your very first alcohol there when his father slipped soju disguised as a water bottled on your table when you all turned 19. You got caught of course, but since you've finished up the entire bottle, Jaemin's mom can only scold you.

The week passed quickly and you have fully adjusted to your new work and your new home. On your way to work, you passed by the cafe. It has become a habit since you didn't own a coffee maker and needed coffee in the morning. You would have gotten yourself one, but you sucked at making coffee. An instant capsule is what you can do at best, but your taste buds just don't like it. A female employee was on the counter when you went to order and she gave you a buzzer. You found a seat and waited there as you realized the considerable amount of people in the cafe. It was more packed than usual, mostly with girls. Then you realized today was Wednesday and Jaemin will be here.

Come to think of it, you haven't bumped into him all week, which you thought was weird considering you live in the same building and floor. Maybe your schedules don't match so you didn't think much about it. But then there were quiet gasps from the customers, followed by murmurs. When you followed their line of sight, you saw Jaemin carrying a tray with a smile. You realized he was looking at you and felt conscious of the murmurs.

He placed the takeout cup in front of you along with a fold of tissue papers and your receipt.

"Here you are." His smile was beautiful today, well to be fair, you had always thought his smile was radiant. "How did you like the food?"

"Sorry?" you asked, puzzled for a second. "Oh, from last week. Yeah, it was great. Top tier, even. Thank you so much for that by the way. And I actually had most of my lunches here."

You felt a little bad for forgetting to thank him. He even gave you his number but it totally slipped your mind.

"I'm glad you liked it. Come back more often, maybe you'll catch me here and I'll give you a discount."

"Like, on Wednesdays?"

Jaemin gave you a teasing look. "You know my schedules?"

"My coworkers do."

"I see, well I'm here on Wednesdays. I'll be expecting you."

Your phone buzzed and you checked it to see a message from Jaehee. You hurriedly grabbed the coffee and found a complimentary cookie with it so you thanked Jaemin.

"You're welcome. Enjoy your coffee," he said as you handed him the buzzer. "Will I be seeing you for lunch?"

"Sorry?" you questioned. He asked that right when you were at the door, making everyone hear him. For a moment, you thought he was inviting you to have lunch with him.

"With your coworkers."

Your eyes widened in realization and shame. "Oh. With them, of course. I think so. They would hate to miss you today."

"Alright then. See you later."

But you didn't see him again that day, and for the rest of the week. A lunch meeting had been scheduled for your team to meet up with a certain client so you all skipped Nana's Cafe.

Days seemed to pass quickly in the city. You woke up one weekend to find your mother at your doorstep with shopping bags in her arms. You let her in and she went on to comment about how it's late in the morning and you're just climbing out of bed.

"Mom, I'm not late. You're just early," you reasoned, sitting next to her on the sofa and leaning on her shoulder to get more sleep.

She shook her body to get you off of her. "Go get a bath first!"

"Later," you grumbled, locking her in your embrace. She eventually stopped squirming and just let you hug her. She even had you lay your head on her lap. "How are you these days?"

"Fine. I've done nothing but work, but it's not that hard," you confessed, closing your eyes as she caressed your head.

"How about food? Are you eating well?"

"If you're so worried, you should have brought me food instead of clothes," you conplained, although you both knew you meant it as a joke.

Your mother looked at the shopping bags. "What's the point of raising you when you can't even say 'thank you'?"

You just laughed, the familiar warmth creeping in your heart upon hearing your mother's familiar nagging. While most moms can bring home-made food and side dishes for their children, your mom brings you clothes and accessories. She grew up in a wealthy family and was pampered for most of her life so she never really worried about cooking. Even after she married your father, you still lived in comfort and your father is a great cook. You had come to accept that about her because like your mother, you are also an awful cook.

"Jaemin's mom said you two live in the same building," she asked. "Do you see him a lot?"

"Not really. But I always eat at his cafe."

Your mother chuckled. "How nice is that? Back home, we get most of our food from their restaurant. Here in the city, you eat at their son's cafe. We rely on their family's cooking too much, don't we?"

You sat up and looked at her with a smile. "If you put it like that, it does sound funny."

She flicked your forehead, making you scream in pain. "Be grateful. Neither you and I can cook! You should have learned a thing or two from your father if you wanted to survive by yourself."

"Mom, there are restaurants for a reason!" you clapped back and she couldn't even respond because your doorbell rang.

You glanced at it and groaned. "Why are you people barging in so early?"

As you stood up, your mom angrily scolded you for calling her 'you people'. But your loud gasp quieted her. She followed right behind you asking what happened. "Who's there? Why are you so surprised?"

Jaemin's face is clearly registered on your door monitor. Your mother beamed happily. "Oh, it's Na Jaemin. Open up."

"You open up. I'm gonna go brush my teeth," you declared, bolting towards the bathroom to freshen up.

You also changed into more decent clothes, remembering to wear a bra. After a while, you came out to find your mom and Jaemin at the kitchen, arranging containers in your fridge.

"What's going on here?" you prompted, making your way to them and grabbing an apple from the fruit basket on your table.

"Good morning," Jaemin greeted passively, eyes focused on his task.

"Jaemin brought side dishes," your mom said happily and you glanced at Jaemin who smiled at you.

"Again? Thank you so much. That's so nice of you," you chimed, helping them by taking out the old ones he first gave you about a month ago. Most of them were already empty.

"Mom came over yesterday. She brought more this time because I told her I shared them with you," Jaemin told you. Then he turned to your mom. "She just left this morning, actually. It's a shame you missed her, Auntie."

"It is. We could have went to a spa together or something. You know, to thank her for including my lazy daughter."

"Mom!" you chided while you got ready to wash the old containers.

But your mother ignored that. "Ah, how about we set a schedule for it? We could come to Seoul together and bond."

"She would love that," Jaemin affirmed and your mother seemed happy to hear that.

"It's the least I could do. Your mother helped me a lot. And I'm thankful for you helping my daughter out here. We owe so much to your family."

You let them chat away while you wash the dirty containers. After that, you wiped them clean and packed them so Jaemin could bring them back to his house. While you were at it, Jaemin and your mother has moved to the living room so you decided to slice up some fruit for them.

"So I heard. I'd go over next time I'm here," your mom told Jaemin. They were talking about Jaemin's restaurants when you joined them.

"You can go over today, mom. Why wait till next time?"

Your mom turned to you. "I won't be here for long. I have plans with your grandfather today and then I'll go back home."

You just nodded, taking a fork to get a slice of peach. Your mom did the same.

"That's a shame. But I also have plans today, so I'm afraid I wouldn't have been able to entertain you anyway," said Jaemin, standing up from his seat. "I actually have to go now. I just came to drop the sides."

"You're leaving already? I sliced fruits!" you told him but he just chuckled.

"I brought those fruits. I can have them at home."

"Ah, right. Thank you, by the way. And thank your mom for me. I really appreciate it."

"I will. It was nice seeing you again, Auntie. Come visit me anytime."

"I will. Thank you, Jaemin."

You both walked him to the door, uttering more thanks until he disappeared. After that, you went with your mother to meet your grandparents. It was a hearty lunch with them who fondly showered you with compliments and kept telling you to go see them when you're free. You realized yet again that it has been a month since you moved here but you haven't really gone out to meet anyone. You made a mental note to go see them next weekend.

Heejin calls you while you were on your way home. You had just parted with your mother after the lunch with your parents and you had actually ignored Heejin's messages during that.

"I just got home, what is it?" you asked.

"This is crazy news! Crazy!" she said, sounding ballistic. You thought she'd deliver some gossip or exclusive like she always does. Although during those other times, she didn't act this excited. Heejin is a journalist in a big paper and she writes mostly about celebrities.

You stood in front of the underground elevator and it had just closed when you pushed it again, hoping it would open just before it ascended.

"Spill it."

"Jeno just got engaged."

At that moment, the elevator door opened and you saw Jaemin and Jeno staring right back at you. You were surprised to see them, but Jeno was more surprised to see you. He might have tried to hide behind thick sunglasses and a bucket hat, but you recognized him anyway. You hung up on Heejin and awkwardly entered the elevator with the two guys behind you.

You heard Jeno call your name so you glanced back at him and smiled. "How long has it been?"

"I'm not so sure. But it's been a while," you replied, eyeing Jaemin curiously.

"It's good to see you again," Jeno added, smiling underneat his sunglasses. You can almost see the way his eyes were smiling at you too.

"You too, Jen."

You remembered the time you started going out with the ace student, Lee Jeno. How you were both in the same friend circle and you had a crush on him the moment you met him. He was nice to you but didn't express interest until late into junior year. You dated for a while, innocently navigating young love. He was wealthy and had a good background. When his father got married, you all attended the ceremony to comfort him because he disliked the whole thing. But right before graduation, you remembered breaking up with Jeno after he said they were moving permanently in Seoul where his stepmom was working as an actress. You would have been fine with LDR, but he wasn't, especially after he said he auditioned to be an idol trainee and got accepted. You remembered crying, like the dumb teen that you are. And it was in the restaurant of Jaemin's family, surrounded by your friends that you were comforted by spicy tteokbokki.

You had long made peace with your break up. It was long ago and you were both young then. Heck you have even dated two other guys since then. You were happy for him and he seemed happy too. He didn't become an idol, but he made a name for himself as an actor. The last thing you remember reading about him was that he had quit acting and is teaching at an art school. Now, it seems he will soon get married.

"Would you like to join us for drinks? We're celebrating my engagement. Donghyuck will be there too," Jeno invited just as you all got off the same floor.

"Thanks but I have work tomorrow. Congratulations, though."

"Alright. It was nice to see you again."

They headed to the direction of Jaemin's unit and before leaving, Jaemin turned to you to say, "Goodnight."

"Have fun," you replied before punching in your passcode.

Heejin called you after the articles were posted and gushed about how you dated an actual celebrity.

"Well, he wasn't a celebrity then and we were literal teenagers," you blurted.

"Did you kiss at all?"

Your brows knitted, glancing at her face on the video call. "Yes. But that's as far as we went. Don't get weird ideas."

Heejin laughed. "Wouldn't it be nice if it was you?"

You rolled your eyes, pausing on the typing you were doing in your laptop. "Are you interviewing Jeno's ex-girlfriends for an article? Why are you asking ridiculous questions?"

"No, I'm not. I'm just curious."

You thought about her question and then shuddered. "No. Can't even imagine myself there. We were just kids when we dated, Heejin. And I pretty much never thought about marriage at that time. Good for him that he's settling down though."

"What about Hanbin? You talked about marrying him two years ago."

"Yes and we broke up right after that because he wasn't ready but he got married a month later."

"Geez, why is everyone getting married?" Heejin grimaced and shuddered.

"Just so you know, we're at the age where our friends are all getting married.

"Not me. I won't." Heejin laughed maniacally.

You were working late at night on some edits in your publication materials when you suddely felt hungry and decided to go to the convenience store. There was one attached to the building, so you didn't have to go too far, but you were disappointed to see that there were barely any food left and the convenience store guy said the new stocks will come in tomorrow. You should have gone grocery shopping that weekend, so stupid.

When you went to pay for some chips, you saw the man in front of you putting two packs of ramen on the counter. Those were the last ones and you thought about buying them from the hooded man.

"Excuse me, do you really need two packs of ramen? That's pretty heavy. How about letting me buy the other one instead?" you asked and then realized it wasn't the right approach. When the man turned to you, you saw that it was Jaemin. "Oh, it's you."

Jaemin grinned. "Wanna eat ramen with me?"

"Yes!" you replied without missing a beat and the cashier girl made a loud gasp. Only then did you realize the situation and the reason for her reaction. "No. I mean... like actual ramen. Not whatever type of ramen. Hey!"

The girl was startled when you hollered at her. From the looks of her, she seemed a lot younger than you are, probably a part-timing student. "Yes, ma'am?"

"How old are you? Why are you thinking weird thoughts?" you scolded despite feeling embarrassed to the point of blushing.

"I didn't say anything, ma'am."

Jaemin grabbed the chips from your hand and slid them to the counter. "Ignore her. She's just shy. We'll pay for these."

You hit Jaemin's arm when you recognized the teasing in his tone. He just laughed and turned to the cashier. After paying, you ran out of the store first while Jaemin followed.

"Should we walk some more? There's a convenience store two blocks from here," he offered as you walked back to the building entrance.

"I thought you were gonna give me the other one?"

Jaemin glanced at you. "I would have, but one pack is not enough for me and Donghyuck."

"Hyuck again? He should just live with you at this point," you quipped. Donghyuck always went to hang out at Jaemin's place and often he would invite you guys in the group chat but most of you are busy.

"I thought you have work tomorrow?"

You nodded. "I'm making last minute edits. Then I got hungry."

"How about joining us? There's fried chicken and this ramen too."

You sighed as you two stopped in front of the elevators. "I'd love to, but I can't hang out tonight."

"You don't have to. You can just eat and then leave right after. It'll take you only five or ten minutes max."

"Okay. Thanks," you replied. You were hungry anyway and you could use a break from staring at your computer.

You thought Jeno would still be there, but Jaemin said he had left an hour ago. Hyuck was playing video games while Jaemin worked on the food. There were beer next to Hyuck and he was screaming at the TV screen so you opted not to join him even though the sofa seemed inviting. You noted how Jaemin's home was clean and cozy, especially his kitchen.

He worked fast, all the while chatting you up on your day and teasing about how your ex is about to get married.

"It's fine as long as I get an invite for being his first girlfriend ever," you joked, chopping up some spring onions that he surprisingly trusted you to help with.

Jaemin laughed. "That's funny because I actually need a plus one. You should come with me. We can laugh at their high society guests and meet celebrities."

"Laugh at their high society guests? I'm pretty sure my mom would be there too."

"Ah, right. She's friends with Jeno's Dad." Jaemin pointed the spoon at you. "And you're from high society."

You snorted and shook your head, taking the spoon from his hand. "Never lived that way. Not even once."

You tasted the broth and complimented its rich flavor. Jaemin laughed at you, saying the flavor came with the pack.

"You're right. It wasn't from your talent," you quipped and you both laughed.

"Are you two dating? You seem in love and happy," said Donghyuck who popped out of nowhere.

"Shut it," you threatened, holding out the spoon as a weapon.

You and Hyuck basically inhaled the food as soon as it was served. It didn't wait long and Jaemin wasn't only a good cook, but a great chef. He had eggs with it and some leafy greens as well as delicious side dishes from his mom.

"This kimchi is great," Hyuck commented and you nodded in approval.

"If I went home with just the chips, I would have ate the side dishes in my fridge," you said, taking more noodles from the pot.

"Is the restaurant still there?" Hyuck asked, referring to the restaurant owned by Jaemin's family.

"Yeah. The cafe was right next to it but their restaurant is more popular," you replied. "I still frequented the place when I was there. And I also got updates about Jaemin from his mom. She talks about him all the time."

"Were you so interested about Jaemin that his mom talked about him so much?"

You slurped on the noodles and glared at Hyuck. "I'm not!" you insisted but somehow it came out a little too defensively even if you didn't mean to.

"She talks about you a lot too," Jaemin said to you. "When I go home, or when she comes over, she talks about you and what you're up to."

"Right, didn't she tell you about her and Hanbin going out?" Donghyuck laughed and Jaemin nodded, grinning playfully.

"She did. She also said Hanbin dumped you and got married one month later."

You rolled your eyes at them, taking their teasing in stride.

"It was a good riddance. Hanbin is a jerk," Hyuck spat.

"I agree," said Jaemin. "Remember when we graduated high school and he punched a classmate for taking a picture with her girlfriend at the time?"

Donghyuck scoffed. "Yeah, total garbage."

"How did you end up dating him, anyway?" Jaemin asked, his forehead creasing with how much his brows were knotting.

"To be fair, he stopped being a jerk. He wasn't a jerk even after we broke up. We talked about marriage and we agreed but he wanted to stay there. I don't. God knows I would never be content to stay in that town my whole life," you explained.

"Good for you. Our town was lovely, but you can't make a life of your own if you don't get out of there," Hyuck said and you were surprised that he was taking the conversation seriously.

It was ironic that you were the last to leave, considering you were the one who wasn't originally from that town in the first place. But you're happy now that you're out of there. It was a lovely town, like Donghyuck said, but it hinders your endeavors. You know you are made for more than just a small town marketing assistant. Heck you even went to a big school just to make sure you find opportunities outside town. You ended back there and stayed for two years before you're finally out.

You remembered college graduation and realized even on that, you were with the same friends to celebrate. You came home after graduation and the town had a big party to congratulate you and the others who finished their studies. Jaemin was the one who handed you flowers at the time. And then you got drunk with your friends, singing your hearts out in a karaoke room like you always did when you were teens. You missed every second of it and loved looking back on it.

A few days later, you attended a meeting for the XO Foods' anniversary events. The main task was to hold a cooking competition and the winner will be an endorser for the brand. There was a long list of potential contestants and you weren't surprised to find Jaemin in that list. They picked the most popular, good looking, and young candidates for the mini-show. Its main purpose was to promote after all so picking people with good visuals was vital.

After the meeting, you took it upon yourself to visit Jaemin's cafe to find him and talk to him about the competition. There was prize money and the feature can help his brand and help the company as well. It was a Friday, so naturally he won't be at the cafe. Then you remembered you had his number so you texted him instead. But instead of replying, he just called you.

"I know you didn't wanna do it. My coworker has tried before, and you declined. But I just wanna know, maybe, if you changed your mind about working with XO Foods for a project?"

"XO Foods?"

"Yeah. They're the client I'm assigned to."

"Alright, sure," he replied without missing a beat.

That was quick and you haven't even explained the whole thing yet, so you did just that before accepting his answer.

"Yeah, I'll do it," he replied after your explanation. "I could use the exposure and the pay seemed decent."

You squealed. "Thank you! Oh, gosh. I though it would be difficult to convince you."

Jaemin just chuckled heartily. "Anything for you really."

You gawked at nothing, confused by what he said but you kept quiet.

"Just let me know when you need me for it."

"Yeah, I will."

"Alright, y/n" he smiled, followed by a proper enunciation of your name that seemed to roll perfectly on his tongue.

You weren't prepared for the random texts that you would get from him ever since he got your phone number. At first it came the next morning, a picture of freshly made bread pulled out from the oven. It had a note that says, "Come try a piece before you get to work!" Then the next day at lunch time, he asked if you already ate and whether you'd like to try the newest addition to their menu. The texts were mostly that and it almost felt like you subscribed to a food delivery service that sends notifications about food. You didn't think much of it, but replied politely anyway. Sometimes you said the food looks good, sometimes you said you'd get a bite before work, other times you can only decline due to work. But it was fun so you just went with it.

The meeting with three competing chefs came and you felt proud of your team for a job well done. Everyone is engaging in your online campaigns and you managed to snag three competitive, handsome and pretty, popular influencer chefs. It went smoothly and surely it did not slip your coworkers notice when Jaemin approached you after for a quick chat. Nothing much was talked about between you. He just asked if you had lunch already and left after you said you did.

Jaehee and Yunseo started teasing you and asked how you two were so close.

"We're friends, that's all," you said concisely. It was the truth and there really isn't anything else to add.

"Why didn't you tell us? We've been to his cafe a lot of times! We even met him!" Yunseo asked, playfully hitting your arm several times.

"Well, it felt a bit obnoxious to say I know a popular person," you confessed which was true too.

"Is that why he always comes out to greet us?" Jaehee asked, bewildered. "And you got him to join the competition too!"

"Eonnie, if you guys aren't a thing, maybe you can introduce me," Yunseo suggested, batting her eyelashes at you and making you chuckle.

"We're not a thing and I'll introduce you for sure but how he reacts to it will be up to him," you told Yunseo who just squealed happily and said she'll be fine as long as Jaemin knew her name. "You're a cutie."

"Am I?" Yunseo asked cutely. "I hope Jaemin thinks so too."

Border

Jaemin knocked on your door early that weekend and you opened up to see a box of pastry from him.

"What's this?"

"Oh, it's the cookie samplers I promised you last time," he said, referring to one of his texts.

You took it from his hand and noticed that he was dressed for jogging. "Thank you. Were you working out?"

"Yeah, I went for a jog then passed by the cafe for that," he replied, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Anyway, gotta go. I got work today. Enjoy your day-off though!"

"Thanks again. Have fun at work!"

You didn't think you'd see him again that day, but you did. The brunch date Yunseo had set up with you and Jaehee happened to be at Nana's Cafe in a different branch.

Yeonsu said Jaemin would be here today. She wasn't wrong because Jaemin was at the counter, taking orders. He noticed you and immediately switched with a staff to take your orders.

"These are my coworkers. You've met them before," you introduced. "Jaehee and Yunseo."

Yunseo stood up to shake hands with him. "Nice to meet you."

"You too," Jaemin beamed. "What can I get you started with?"

After taking your orders, you chatted amongst yourselves and waited for it to come. Jaemin was the one who brought it out too when they were ready, even going as far as giving three small slices of chocolate cakes for each of you. He said it was on the house since he was glad to meet your friends.

"Thanks, Jae," you said before he left.

"He likes you," Jaehee chimed as soon as Jaemin was out of earshot. You shushed her but Yunseo joined in on the teasing.

"He does."

You rolled your eyes and sighed. "Jaemin is an old friend and he'd always been nice to me since high school."

"Then he must have liked you for a long time now! You sync so perfectly, even your wristwatch were same colors!" Yunseo pointed iut enthusiastically.

"How did you even catch the color of his watch?" you questioned, genuinely bewildered by her attention to detail.

Jaemin liking you was a ridiculous idea that you refused to entertain. But it lingered in your mind. As you went home, you wondered if Jaemin had always been that sweet and friendly. The answer was no. He was more of a subtle kind of friend, coming up with clever ways to make people feel special despite acting aloof most of the time. He must have gotten over his inexpressiveness and is now being openly nice and sweet to his friends.

To you, you thought he had always been aloof too. But he did make you feel his friendly affection in some ways.

Participants had an interview at your company on Monday and it was broadcasted live online. You were there as part of the PR team and you were closely monitoring interactions from viewers. Sure enough, a lot of people watched the Live, proving just how popular the chefs were. After that stint, Jaemin approached you for a favor.

"Anything within my powers," you quipped.

"How about coming over to the cafe to test new recipes?"

You had no plans tonight so you decided to agree. "Sure, but I'm not a food critic so I'm not sure if I can help."

"Can we come too?" asked Jaehee and only then did you realized that they were listening in.

Jaemin nodded. "Of course! I'd be happy to cater to you. But I can only take the three of you since the food is limited and I already have other guests coming."

"Oh no worries. We won't be bringing anyone else," Yunseo assured, pushing Woojin aside when he was passing by you.

They chatted for a bit while you quietly observed, a little embarrassed that Jaemin had to cater to extra guests when he already have other people coming. But you decided he was probably alright with it since he agreed to it.

The cafe across the street was closed when you arrived. Aside from the staff, there was no one else in the cafe and you found yourself asking Jaemin about his guests.

"Oh, they canceled. It was actually just a friend from culinary school and his girlfriend. They said it was an emergency and I knew better than ask," Jaemin explained. "I'm gonna go finish up in the kitchen. I should join you in a bit."

"Yeah, go ahead," your coworkers said.

When Jaemin left, Jaehee said, "It would have been awkward if only and Jaemin were here."

"Or romantic," Yunseo argued. "I bet he'd prefer that too."

"Right? He's so obvious! I can't even!" Jaehee gushed and you can only shake your head.

Obvious how? It's either you're blind to it or they're making a big deal out of nothing. Well, sure, there were times he would randomly say cheesy stuff but he never expounded on that and you assumed he had been joking each time. Other than that, you were sure Jaemin was just being his usual self. Jaehee and Yunseo wouldn't understand because they weren't the ones who were friends with Jaemin for a long time.

"Should we just give them the space?" Yunseo giggled.

"We should."

"Don't you dare." you threatened just as Jaemin was coming out of the kitchen.

He had got rid of his apron and you assumed he'll be joining you for dinner now. "Is the wine good?"

"It's impeccable. Good taste, Jaemin," Jaehee complimented but her eyes were on you when Jaemin sat on the vacant seat right next to you, then grabbed your glass to drink from it.

He must have noticed the way Yunseo and Jaehee were looking because he cleared his throat and put the glass down. "She doesn't like wine. She hasn't even touched it."

"Ah, I see," Yunseo said before shooting you a teasing look. "You seem to know a lot about her."

Jaemin shrugged and then smiled widely. "Well, she's an interesting person. Don't you think?"

Food came one by one and you thought the teasing would end there but Jaemin took it a notch when he would place food on your plate carefully each time. The knowing looks from your coworkers did not miss your eye but you just gestured for them to be quiet.

You started eating after thanking Jaemin and you noticed how he watched your faces for reactions before starting his own meal. Yunseo and Jaehee uttered alarmingly specific accounts about the food while you can only say it was great and flavorful.

"You're lucky we're here then. We're quite the food critic, you know," Yunseo joked.

"Yeah. Your interesting friend can literally offer nothing but an affirmative nod," Jaehee teased and you blushed because it was true.

"In my defense, you didn't tell me I need Michelin evaluator qualifications to be here," you ranted to Jaemin who just shook his head with a fond smile on his lips.

"No, not at all. I invited you here because I wanted you to try the food, not because I need you to critic me like I'm in Masterchef."

Yeonsu and Jaehee let out 'ooohs' and even whistled. Jaemin seemed proud and even encouraged the two girls but you weren't having it.

"Like a test animal?"

Leave it up to you to ruin a cute moment. Thank you.

There were more comments on the food with a few of your innocently worded inputs. Jaemin takes out another bottle of wine that you shared with casual conversations before it was time to go. Yeonsu and Jaehee left after Jaemin explicitly said you two can go home together since you live in the same building. You can already imagine the teasing you'll get the next day, but you just sighed. Jaemin noticed your dillemma as he poured more wine for himself.

"Are you okay?" he asked before taking a swig from his glass.

"Yeah, it's just... My coworkers think you like me or something," you began, trailing off on your words but he caught them just fine. "It's ridiculous, I know. But it's just because they don't know the kind of person you are, that's why they're saying those."

He tilted his head curiously. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

You were a bit taken aback by his question so you cleared your throat and straightened your back before replying. "Well, I think you're sweet and nice. Very gentlemanly and thoughtful too."

"Really?" He cocked an eyebrow at you.

You laughed derisively. "I knew you've always been nice since we were younger and even now, you're still considerate as ever. To Yunseo and Jaehee, they might think you're going the extra mile because you like me, but we both know you've always been a really good friend to everyone."

Jaemin straightened up and rested his back on the chair before sighing your name and glancing at you. "I'm not all that, you know."

"And you're very humble too," you chuckled, clinking your glass on his before taking a sip of your juice.

"It's the truth, y/n," he insisted. "I'm pretty laid back and didn't care much unless it involves me. And I'm the most passive when it came to friendly relations. I'd say I'm a considerate man, but mostly just for my friends."

"Well, maybe that's what you think. But me and all your other friends sure know you're a really great friend. I'd know because you were very considerate of me too," you affirmed, worried that he might think so lowly of himself when he is in fact a great guy.

Jaemin just chuckled. "You don't get it do you, y/n? I know myself better than anyone. And I'm pretty sure I tried going the extra mile just for you."

You fell quiet. He must have been drunk to be saying all of that. Or maybe you were and you're mind is playing tricks on you so you're hearing things in your head. But you wouldn't be able to confirm it because he fell asleep on the table all of a sudden and you realized he just emptied the wine bottle and now he's passed out drunk. And here you thought he had a high tolerance of alcohol.

Luckily, a staff was still cleaning in the kitchen and he helped you take Jaemin to your car so you can drive him home. It wasn't your best idea, and you knew you won't be able to carry him up the building, but you drove home anyway.

You tried waking Jaemin when you reached the parking lot and he stirred in his seat, blinking as he focused his gaze on his surroundings. He glanced sideways at you and flashed the biggest smile you have ever seen from him. "You're very pretty."

"Thanks, I know that. Now come on, let's get you to bed."

He was basically zombie-walking at the hallways but you're happy that he can still walk so you just held him in place. You could tell he was terribly sleepy by the way his head would fall suddenly.

"Here we are. Can you enter your passcode?" you asked slowly, making sure he can hear you. With a drunk smile he reached for the door and started entering his passcode but he can't hit the right keys.

"Damn, why are the numbers dodging," he laughed before trying again. He kept going at it but he just couldn't get it right even as he shool his head aggressively in his attempt to sober up.

After several annoyed huffs from you, he laughingly pressed his nose on the side of your head and whispered the passcode before falling limp on your hold.

You were dumbfounded for a second, cradling Jaemin while you processed your thoughts. You tried to brush off the heat that resulted from the sudden contact and hurriedly entered his passcode. You couldn't even remember where you got the strength to drag him to his sofa and leave him there, but you were glad that you finally did. He mumbled incoherrently but you were too focused on the warmth on your ear that you just stormed out of his unit and hid into yours.

Jaemin woke up in a daze, blinking as the sun shone through the open curtains of his big windows. He recognized his living room, and wondered why he wasn't in his room. He massaged his aching temple and rose from his uncomfortable position on the sofa and then groaned in disgust upon realizing he had slept in his outside clothes. Struggling with a head ache and feeling disgusted by his own smell, he dunked an advil in the bathroom and took a shower.

He recalled being at the cafe with you and your coworkers. Then he remembered how he finished an entire bottle and blacked out. He had bits of memories scattered in place as well as one where he openly told you you were pretty. He smiled idiotically at the memory, drying his hair with a towel as he downed a whole bottle of hangover tonic. He now remembered that you took him home and feels sorry for the trouble but he just can't stop smiling, especially after the doorbell rang and he saw your face in the monitor.

He cleared his throat first and kept a straight face before opening the door to greet you. You handed a small bottle of hangover drink to him.

You weren't look at him straight and he can even tell you were annoyed by the way your brows are knitted together. "You must be hungover. Tou were so drunk last night."

Jaemin didn't have it in him to refuse even after he had just finished a bottle of the same tonic. Besides, he's just happy to see you this early. "Thank you. Oh, and I'm sorry about last night. I don't usually get drunk but that wine was a fairly new addition to theh menu. I had no idea it would be that strong."

You glanced at him briefly before looking away again. You didn't even move your head. "You finished an entire bottle by yourself, Jaemin. Surely you figured you'd get drunk?"

"Yeah, I did but it wasn't my intention really. Thanks for taking me home."

"Don't mention it. You did cook some delicious food for us, and it was free so this is nothing."

"If I wasn't a businessman, I wouldn't charge you for anything at all," Jaemin grinned, eyes shifting on your clothes and he realized that you were already dressed for work. "Do you need a ride? I'm going over there today."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You left your car in Apgujeong."

"Oh shit, I did, didn't I?"

You just scoffed. "I can give you a lift but I'm running late so..."

"There's no need. Thanks for the offer."

"Okay, bye," you turned to leave and Jaemin panicked so he called your name. When you glanced back, he was unsure of what to say. In his mind, he was trying to find a good reason to be alone with you again.

Should he invite you over to the cafe again? No, he already did that. Maybe dinner? Just the two of you? Wouldn't it be too forward? How about coffee? Nah, you get coffee everyday.

"What is it, Jaemin?"

Your voice pulled him out of his musings. "Nothing. Have fun at work."

You chuckled. "Thanks. You too."

You bade him goodbye and he reluctantly waved at you then watched your back disappear into the elevator. Maybe next time, after all, he agreed to take one step at a time.

You expected Yunseo and Jaehee to tease you at work and they didn't disappoint. So now you're explaining to them how you two happened to just live in the same building. Yunseo was gushing about destiny but you laughed at her absurdity, then you remembered the way he whispered in your ear and felt your face flare. You saw him that morning and he seemed perky like always so you thought he must have no recollection of it. The Jaemin you knew would apologize for behaving inappropriately, especially in a drunken state. You decided it was best to keep it to yourself rather than bring it up and make things awkward. It was an accident, you're sure of it. Jaemin doesn't even seem to remember that.

The fact that you didn't see Jaemin at all for the next three days didn't help erase the memory of his lips on the side of your head. Why? Because his pictures are in every pubmat you were making, it actually felt more like you were seeing him at all times. You now share your team leader's wish that you had a different person for the layouts and pubmats. He might have wanted it for efficiency, but you wanted it just so you can stop staring at Jaemin's handsome face.

The competition broadcast came. You sat on a desk behind the filming crew, where you will be monitoring the comments and interactions on the live broadcast. The chefs arrived after a short trip to the styling room and you liked how Jaemin looked in his chef uniform and the apron that bore his cafe's logo on the chest. You knew this was a leap in his career since he only ever got photographed by customers instead of actually using his visuals to promote himself. If it was a PR stunt, then you'd think he was smart enough to have branded himself a humble, handsome chef who relies on talent rather than his looks. But knowing him, you knew it was all a spontaneous occurence that just happened to go on his favor.

The mini competition started and while you tried to be neutral as a staff member, you couldn't help rooting for Jaemin. Two of the chefs were influencers with a fanbase. Jaemin was the only one who didn't capitalize on his physical appearance and as a PR person, you'd say he was dumb for that but as his friend, you respected him for it. Then again, more people were drawn to the mysterious 'It boy' who appears on the regular but kept a low profile from the internet.

The live would go on for more than an hour since the challenge was to whip up a gourmet dish in less that 45 minutes. After getting the judges to taste the dishes, Chef Jisook ended up winning the grand price, with Jaemin trailing behind her after receiving praise for his fusion dish that 'redefined Korean cuisine'.

After the filming wrapped up, Jaemin found you in the pool of busy people and skipped over to you with a big smile. "The CEO offered to have me in one episode of the cooking show."

"That's great! Good for you!" you cheered, nudging his elbow with yours. "That's because you're so talented.

The cooking show was an online thing that the company regularly does. It has a steady following and does well to promote the brand and the guests that stars in it are usually famous chefs and celebrities. Being on that show would surely catapult Jaemin's name and brand. You were telling Jaemin all that as he drove his car to one of his cafes.

You caught him smiling at you like he was staring at you rather than listening so you stopped talking.

"Why'd you stop?"

"Because you stopped," you replied, looking outside to see where you parked. Jaemin said there's no need to rush but you shrugged and got off the car first. He followed soon after and you immediately spotted your common friends inside the building.

You ran inside to greet your friends and explicitly noted how Seola is still with Minho. You said he must be doing the right thing since he's still around.

"Excuse me, my man is not a cheat," Seola defended, wrapping an arm around Minho's waist. "As a matter fact, we're getting married."

"You are?" you exclaimed, covering your mouth in surprise.

Seola was satisfied with your reaction. "Yes. Why do you think we're gathered today? It's because Minho proposed to me the other day."

"Oh my god," you said, pulling her into a hug.

Hyuck was chuckling on your side. "He's trying to race with Jeno."

"No, I'm not!" Seola insisted, glaring at the guy. "It was a spontaneous decision."

Everyone disagreed because you all know that if the opposite of spontaneous is a person, it would be Seola.

"It's not, but we had been talking about it after Seola said she wanted to get maried before thirty," Minho confessed. "We wanted children and getting pregnant after thirty is risky so the sooner, the better. We are financially stable and in love, so what's stopping there to stop us?"

"Yeah, well, I hope you don't end up getting divorced," Heejin jeered and instantly received a glare from Seola.

"Why are you cursing us already? You're mean," Seola pouted, hiding behind Minho.

You understood where she was coming from, after all, you have thought about the same thing before. You planned to get married before thirty when you were younger. Even today, you're still considering it. You still have four years before that, but that too could be considered a short time. And of course, you are yet to find a match who is worth spending the rest of your life with. Divorce is never an option for you.

Your eyes found Jaemin's. He had been staring and you caught him, but instead of looking away, he held your gaze with reassurance and some kind of comfort that you didn't quite understand the purpose of but you still appreciated. For some reason, you thought maybe you can consider him. That is if he was serious about what he had been implying these past few days—that he liked you before and he likes you now.

Jeno soon arrived with his fiancee and you were all happy to meet her at last. The night continued and you even got to bring up how Jaemin almost won the cooking competition. Hyuck said he saw it and watched it from start to finish.

"Donghyuck, why are you so interested in everybody's business?" Seola joked and only when she brought that up did you realize that Hyuck was indeed interested in everybody's business.

"It's because I love all of you, dumbasses," Hyuck announced, even standing up to raise his glass.

Everyone in the table cheered in agreement. Who's to say he was lying? None of you could ever because you all know it was Donghyuck who was always checking in on each of you, always making plans to meet, and keeping the friendship alive. Donghyuck is the foundation of this friend group.

You went out for some fresh air after hiurs of sitting there with your friends, laughing and going through bottles and bottles of alcohol. You were trying to sober up a bit and you were wondering if you should go home. Jeno joined you a little later, breathing in the cool air as he tucked his hands in his jacket.

"Hey," he greeted in a prolonged manner.

"Hey," you smiled back at him. "Congratulations again, by the way. She's such a lovely woman."

"I know," he chuckled. "I got lucky."

You just smiled, taking in more of the night air. The streets were bright but it wasn't as busy as it was earlier that night. You started thinking that going home would be smooth without any traffic.

"It's been so long since we last talked to each other," he pointed out and you nodded. Although he was present at your father's funeral several months ago, he didn't get the chance to say anything to you other than utter his condolences. "I wish I could hang out with all of you more often. On the rare times that I could, it's mostly just with Jaemin and Donghyuck."

"Well, you got busy and I had a lot of things going on in my life too, so..."

"Yeah, you're right," he chuckled. "At least we get to hang out like this. I'm sure I'll get more chance to meet everyone once I'm married. You know, I can worry less about being in public and live a more like any ordinary person."

"Good for you, then," you chimed. "And I'm happy for you. We all are."

"Thank you. Will you come to my wedding? It's in three weeks and the invitations hasn't been sent out yet but I'm inviting you in advance."

"I think I might," you said sheepishly. You were joking about going to his wedding with Jaemin, but now that he's inviting you, you felt shy all of a sudden. It would feel normal if you had kept in contact with him like the rest of your friends, but a long time has passed without any interaction between you. You were wondering if you should be there at all.

"You know, I told Jaemin I'd invite you and he said you don't need a card because you can go as his plus one." You scowled at Jeno upon hearing that.

"He said that?"

Jeno just shrugged and nodded. You imagined being Jaemin's plus one and wondered how the two guys came to a conclusion that you would just agree on it. But then again, you had no reason to disagree or even refuse to go with Jaemin. It's not like you would hate to go with him. In fact, it would be fun to go with either Jaemin or Hyuck. "Is that why he brought it up before?"

"Maybe. You can go together, you know. You look great together. If I didn't know better, I'd assume you were dating because of the way your clothes don't match but kinda matched. Your vibes are just syncing effortlessly. It's adorable."

His implication was loud and clear but you just laughed it off. "I'll be there. Maybe as Jaemin's plus one, or maybe not. But I'll be there. You wouldn't let your first love miss the best day of your life, would you?"

Jeno laughed heartily and you felt proud about making a good joke. "Of course, my first love can't miss my wedding. You better prepare a hefty cash gift."

"Look at this chaebol ripping peoplenoff," you ridiculed.

"We're spending quite a lot on that wedding. Pay us back."

"Ugh, now I'm rethinking if I should go or not."

Jeno laughed, glancing back to the cafe when his fiancee called his name. "I'm kidding. You better be there, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," you said dismissively shooing him away but he was already running back to the cafe.

As you watched, you saw Jaemin make his way towards you. You were feeling drowsy, but you stayed standing as you waited for him to reach you. Then when he was within your reach, you said, "I heard you needed a date for the wedding and you picked me."

Jaemin chuckled, his cheeks a bit flush due to alcohol. "Nah, I'm pretty sure you're the one who's gonna do the picking because Hyuck is also dateless."

"Ah, so I still get to make the decision. Good to know."

"If you choose me, I'll pay the wedding gift for you," Jeamin challenged and you nodded, showing an expression that tells him you were considering it.

"Tempting. But I'll have to see what Hyuck is willing to wager."

"Probably a dress. I heard him say, but I'm pretty confident you'd like me more."

You scoffed. "Now I want to pick him just to spite you."

Jaemin fake heart attack and you just scoffed loudly as he pretended to fall over. He laughingly stood up. "Come on. Don't be mean to me."

"Stop copying my style! People are starting to think we're dating," you chided, but he just shrugged.

"It's either we both have good taste or stores are just selling the same colors everywhere."

You laughed as you both walked back to the cafe. Your friends soon left and as usual, you and Jaemin decided to go home together. The cafe was near the condo and you were both a little drunk so you decided to just walk there. You were clutching your bag clumsily as you staggered on the sidewalk so Jaemin offered his arm for you to hold on to and you latched on it like your life depended on it, uttering a soft 'thanks'. You felt steadier like that and warmer with his body close to yours. For a while you just walked quietly before he started asking questions.

"How's your mom?" he asked, adding, "Mine told me they went to a spa last week."

You grinned. "Yeah mine said the same thing. She's doing great. She still refused to leave town or sell the house, insisting that Dad's memory lived there. I'd love for the house to remain there too but I'm worried about her being alone."

"You can always visit her. It's not that far."

"Right. I should visit more often."

Jaemin sighed. "What about work? Anything new?"

"Not really. The anniversary events are what keeps me busy these days. Other than the cooking show today, there's nothing noteworthy." You fished your phone from your bag when it started ringing. It was Heejin and you answered it right away. "Hi. Did you get home alright?"

"Yes, but this thing won't work," she grumbled and you couldn't see what's going on but you could hear her frustration in her voice.

"What is it?"

"My passcode. I forgot my passcode. My house is threatening to lock me out."

"It's 112799," you told her, rolling your eyes and silently judging her for forgetting it each time she gets drunk.

"Thanks," she muttered before hanging up. You just grimaced at the phone before chucking it back into your purse.

"Heejin?"

"Yeah, she forgot her passcode. It happens all the time."

Jaemin nodded. "It's amazing how you stayed close all these years."

"We literally grew up together. I'd say we don't have a choice," you said in faked indifference. It made Jaemin laugh. "I'm kidding. She's my sister from another mother. My apartment was actually her cousin's. She hooked me up with her and I was able to rent it for a good price."

"Isn't it amazing how out of all the apartments in Seoul, and all the floors in that building, we ended being neighbours?" he asked and you nodded, unconsciously nuzzling closer to him when the wind blew.

"I know. It's a small world."

"No, it's actually a big world. A huge one. It's actually fate that brings things to cross paths at one point. Like an invisible string. In our case, our paths crossed so much that we became a part of each other's lives and by extension, a small part of each other."

You giggled. "It's beautiful how you worded things. You could be a poet." You saw him smile shyly at the compliment but then you added. "Yunseo has a nice way with words too. You two would get along well."

"We already get along."

"Yeah, but like, in a romantic way. She likes you and she actually asked me to set you up together. You should go out sometime," you were blabbering so much and didn't even notice that Jaemin has stopped walking. You were holding on to him so you were forced to stop too. He took your arm off of his and took a few steps away. "What? It's true Yunseo likes you. She told me herself. I'm not just randomly making decisions for her."

"No, but you're making decisions for me," he said pointedly and the annoyed look on his face made you shy.

"Sorry. Alcohol unzipped my mouth."

"So you're saying it because you're drunk? You're not serious about setting me up with another girl?"

While you were confused about the purpose of the question, you still replied. "No, not really. I think I just said it because I have nothing else to say."

"Good because I'm not interested in anyone else."

His words confused you but you knew deep it inside that the message was clear. He is interested in you. Yet you told yourself that your drunk mind is giving you false signals. When you realized he stopped right in front of your building so you pointed at it and started skipping to the entrance. Jaemin just followed you with an absent-minded smile.

You rarely bumped into Jaemin in the building because obviously, your schedules are different. When you do, it is often at the elevator which is still rare. Today just decided to be different. You stepped out of your unit at the same time and you had no excuse to avoid getting in the elevator with him. He didn't spare your conflicted feelings and you were sure it was because he had no idea you were even conflicted in the first place. Especially after he said, "I finally caught you. Sometimes I try to leave earlier or a little later just to see if we'd bump into each other but we never did. It's been like four months since you moved here but we barely saw each other."

"We see each other a lot actually," you laughed after pointing that out.

"I know but I meant here in the building."

"You're right." You separate ways quickly, getting into your car as soon as you spotted it in the parking lot and running off with a hurried goodbye.

To say you escaped was an understatement but you had to if you want to stop thinking about things that would make your friendship weird. Unbeknownst to you, Jaemin was on his own league of making sure you see each other at least once a day.

You walked in to Nana's Cafe confidently on a Tuesday, knowing he won't be there. But Jaemin's radiant smile welcomed you, accompanied by a nice piece of heart-shaped cookie. When you refused to go to the cafe on a Wednesday, he dropped by your office to hand-deliver lunch. You avoided going to the cafe at all but you found him outside your office building waiting for you to get off work. On the weekend, he knocked on your door early to give you a cup of warm coffee. It went on for days and you had gotten used to the teasing from your coworkers and the assumptions about him being your boyfriend. You wanted several times to confront him but you didn't want to be the first to bring it up, after all, you're still arguing with yourself that he is just being a nice friend like usual. But it doesn't help that the text messages that previously looked like a food promotion chatbox is now filled with selfies of him with updates on what he's doing that day.

"Oh my god. I knew it. He likes you," Heejin announced clapping her hands triumphantly. You had invited her and Seola over after days of taking unsolicited but appreciate advices from Yunseo and Jaehee. You never shared your part of the story with them because you don't think you're close enough for it. So you decided to seek Heejin and Seola and pour your heart out to them.

"But he didn't say that," you insisted.

"He was showing it. You know Jaemin. He prefers showing his feelings more than talking about them," Seola pointed out so you crossed your arms over your chest and turned to her.

"If he can say all these fancy things and subtle hints about liking me, I think he can very well say he likes me straight to my face," you retorted then Heejin and Seola comically nodded in unison.

"That makes sense. How about talking to him about it?"

You scowled. "What? Like confront him?"

"Yeah."

"No. I can't. I don't want to. Confrontations scare me."

"Then maybe telling you he likes you straight to your face scares him too. You can't just think about yourself in this situation, y/n," Seola insinuated and it made sense so you slumped on your sofa, face first.

"Maybe he really likes you, you know. He could be in love with you too. It's not so strange to think about. You're a catch, don't you realize that?"

"Heejin's right. You're gorgeous. You're smart. You're cute too and you're very caring. Your sense of humor is not that great but you're fun to talk to. Also, although I know he doesn't care about money at all, you're rich and your family background is impressive. Any man would fall for you."

Maybe the idea wasn't so far fetched. Despite your every attempt to deny it, Jaemin really did show you he liked you even before what happened on the day of Seola's dinner party. He would give you a compliment and a cookie with your coffee. He messaged you everyday and would send you weather updates every morning. When you met outside the building, he always offered to give you a ride even when he knew you have your own car. He had always acted like that and only now are you seeing every sign, clear as day and you can't ignore them. He likes you enough to put in this much effort for you. It keeps repeating in your head. Jaemin likes you.

"What are you so worried for? Don't you like Jaemin?" Heejin asked.

Come to think about it, don't you? You liked his smile. You like how warm it makes you feel and how familiar he seemed to you. You liked hanging out with him, laughing and fooling around and making fun of strangers secretly with him. Ever since you got here, you shared all the good things that happened to you with Jaemin. Now looking back, it seems Jaemin had always been a part of everything that happened to you, good or bad. It's just like the invisible string he mentioned. Except that you have both became a part of each other's life; a piece of each other.

"Does Na Jaemin really like me? Like for real?" you mumbled to yourself, your mind drifting off to more thoughts of him. "Because if he does, don't you think he's too good for me? His smile is so pretty. He's very talented and he's a good cook. Damn, even his laughter is beautiful. His voice, the lines on his cheeks when he grins, the way he's always warm when I'm near him. The way he always cared for my comfort. The way he consistently took care of me and even went out of his way several times for me. He's too good to be true."

Seola and Heejin chuckled before clinking their shotglasses together and taking shots of soju. "She likes him."

You buried your face on your palms and let out a strained shriek. "I think I do.

Part 2

#i love this sm #my taylor swift and jaemin heart is exploding #jaemin is so 🥺🥺🥺🥺 #nana #jaemin fluff #fluff

[faesficfix]

texts ; na jaemin (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵)✧

pictures bf! jaemin sends you of himself

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ

masterlist

#my heart :( #i love him with all my soul #nana #fluff #texts

[faesficfix]

hey angel | n.jm

❯ summary: you're jaemin's bestfriend — so of course he loves to call you up late at night and hear your voice. he's definitely not calling because the sound of your voice turns him on — yeah definitely not that.

❯ pairings: jaemin x fem!reader

❯ genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff.

❯ words: 3.7k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation, slight possessiveness?, begging, praise, heavy use of nicknames, reader uses she/her pronouns, just pure filth tbh, jaemin has a voice kink??

It was late and you were already in bed, snuggled deep and cozy in the sea of your blankets, when your best friend Jaemin called. He’s your closest friend and the person you were more than a little bit in love with — but you’d never risk telling him for fear of it ruining your friendship.

So even though it was late, and you were sleepy, you answered his call. To be fair, he’d answered plenty of your late-night phone calls over the years.

“Hey angel,” Jaemin greets in an eager tone.

You can hear the alcohol in his voice — that and Jaemin only ever used that nickname for you when he’d been drinking. Still, it never fails to send warmth curling through your heart. It felt like it was his way of wrapping you up in his strong arms whilst he wasn’t with you. 

“Annngelll,” your best friend continues in singsong, making you giggle softly. 

Jaemin’s voice sounds rough and gravelly, like he’d been shouting over a crowded bar all night. Which wasn't a surprise since it was his friend Jeno’s birthday tonight. And you knew your charming and extroverted best friend would never pass up the chance of a good time. 

Before you could respond to his greetings, Jaemin’s tone suddenly turned serious. “I missed you tonight.”

“Na Jaemin,” you try to match his quick change of mood, attempting a serious tone. But it was a losing battle as you tried to fight against the smile threatening to let loose at his statement. “You’re drunk—I bet you barely noticed I wasn’t there tonight.”

He grumbles and you hear fabric rustle like he was flopping back on his bed. You can’t help but imagine what he currently looked like: his body probably sprawled out on top of his comforter, the strands of his hair falling into his face as his head propped up on his pillows. He probably had one hand behind his head, his bicep bulging while his other hand held the phone to his ear.

You know it’s wrong, but your mind wonders if he was still in his clothes from the night or if he’d stripped down—knowing the fact that your best friend liked to sleep in his boxers.

But you were also familiar with intoxicated Jaemin, he likely hadn’t changed out of his clothes yet, too drunk, and tired to care. Still, that didn’t stop you from thinking about your best friend laying in his bed shirtless while he talked to you. 

“I may have had a couple drinks,” he admits grudgingly. “But of course, I missed my angel. I swear—cross my heart and hope to die—I was a good boy tonight,” he says with enough conviction that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“You’re silly, Jaem.” There’s a warmth in your voice, and you have no hope of wiping the smile from your face even if you tried. 

Pulling the phone away from your ear to check the time, you felt bad and ask, “Why are you calling?”

A long, loud sigh came through the phone from your best friend. “I wanted to hear your voice,” he explains after a silent moment.

It was a cute sentiment, making you feel warm all over, and you wished you could talk to him longer. “Jaem,” you start, gentling your voice. “It’s late and you know I have to get up early. So, if that’s all, I’m going to hang up.”

“But I can’t sleep,” he whines, and you could hear the pout in his voice. Without even seeing his face, you knew he was deploying his puppy dog eyes. “Just talk to me for a few minutes, angel, please?”

“Fine,” you say with another sigh, folding instantly at the thought of imagining his gentle expression asking you. He’d learned long ago it was a sure way to make you give in. You’d fallen sucker to Jaemin’s big brown eyes, and he knew exactly how to use them. 

Resigning yourself to being tired at work the next day, you settled deeper into your pillows. Your voice gentle as you got comfortable. “But you can’t hold it against me if I fall asleep,” you warn.

“Deal.” His smugness at getting you to agree so easily was loud and clear through the phone even if you couldn’t see his self-satisfied smile. “How was your day, angel?” he asks as his bed sheets rustled again and you presumed he was settling in too.

Tired, but always happy to talk to your best friend, you told him about your day and complained about why you had to get up early the next morning. Your voice turns softer and sweeter as you get more and more tired. Jaemin’s does the same, getting even deeper and more husky as he told you about his day. Eventually, there was a lull in the conversation, and you were about to tell him good night when he said something that surprised you enough to drag you away from the edge of sleep.

“Have I ever told you how hard your sleepy little voice makes me?” he asks, making a sound like he was biting back a groan. “I love calling you before you fall asleep, but I always gotta rub one out after.”

“Jaemin,” you say, voice going for stern, but not quite hitting the mark since it was still laced with sleepiness. “That is not true.”

“It is!” he insists, sounding more awake by the minute—and you were right there with him. “I’m hard right now.” He makes a soft sound, like a grunt.

Before you could stop yourself, you imagined him— still sprawled out on his bed — but this time he had a bulge in his jeans. In your mind’s eye, Jaemin grips his hard length through his jeans, stroking himself roughly. The thought makes you gasp softly, and you clench your thighs together against a sudden pulse in your core.

Jaemin must’ve heard the sound because you could hear the grin in his voice when he speaks again. “Tell me, angel, are you wearing one of my shirts tonight?” he asks gruffly.

You swallow heavily, trying to buy yourself some time. It felt like crossing a line to admit that you were wearing one of his shirts, but when Jaemim didn’t take the question back, you realise you’d had to answer. 

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Which one?” His voice is rough now, like sandpaper, but oh so eager.

“One of your varsity shirts from college—the one that says ‘Jaemin’ on the back,” you answer, unable to lie to your best friend even if you were a little shy to admit you still sleep in his shirts. You knew you didn’t need to be, since he clearly knew you slept in them. 

“I love it when you wear my shirts, angel,” Jaemin confesses. His tone now warm, like he was grinning and happy. It makes the last of your shyness disappear to hear him say that. 

“It lets everyone know you’re mine.”

“I’m not yours, Jaemin,” you protest half-heartedly. 

You weren’t, even if you desperately wanted to be his in every sense of the word.

“You’re my best friend,” he says, like there was no argument you could come up with to change his mind. “My best girl—that makes you mine.”

“Jaemin,” you exhale. 

You knew he was just talking about friendship, but you wished his words meant something different. You wished he felt the same way for you as you did for him.

“Fuck, say my name like that again,” he begs in a gruff voice. “Makin’ me so damn hard.”

You feel the blush rise to your cheeks and you go flustered, unsure what to do as Jaemin easily crosses lines you’d avoided delicately for years. But you didn’t want him to stop. The sound of his voice saying those things had wetness pooling between your thighs. So, you gave him what he wanted.

“Jaemin,” you repeat his name, voice breathier with your arousal, and he let out a happy hum.

“That’s my girl,” he says followed by a groan that is so low and husky, sending tingles racing through your entire body. “Fuck, I’m so hard,” he moans, a slight strain in his voice. “Do you mind, angel?”

It took a moment for your hazy mind to figure out what he was asking. Then, another to process that he was asking if you were okay with him stroking himself while he was on the phone with you. Your breath caught from a sudden surge of excitement. The voice that typically stops you from crossing the line with your best friend was conveniently quiet and all that was left was your need for him.

“I-I don’t mind, Jaem,” you answer softly, trying not to sound too eager.

The sound of him pulling down the zipper of his jeans was loud enough that you could hear it through the phone — and that alone sent a shiver down your spine. It was nothing, though, in comparison to the rough groan he makes as he grips his cock in his hand. 

“Fuck,” he curses.

You could feel yourself getting slicker from the sounds of him stroking himself. Distantly, you knew you were crossing a line by listening to him, by getting off on hearing your best friend pleasure himself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Instead, you found yourself holding your breath as you strained to hear him.

“What else are you wearing besides my shirt, angel?” his voice octaves lower than normal. The sound of it makes you squirm, your thighs clenching together harder. 

Biting your lip, you debated for a second whether to answer truthfully. You didn’t want to lie to your best friend and, you rationalise, you’d already crossed the line, hadn’t you?

“Just panties,” you whisper. 

You trail your hand down your chest over his shirt to toy with the hem where it had ridden up around your hips. Your fingers were dangerously close to slipping under the waistband your best friend had become oh so curious about.

“Just panties? Fucking hell, angel. What colour are they, huh?” He questions in his deep, rough voice.

You swallow thickly, wondering if he could hear how hot and bothered he was making you. You wonder if he knew you were so close to playing with yourself by the way your breath was getting faster. But you couldn’t stop yourself from answering. 

“They’re pink,” you say softly. 

“Angel,” Jaemin groans, thickened with need. “Fuck, I wanna bury my head between your thighs and kiss every single inch of you until you’re writhing under me, begging me to tear those panties off you.”

It was your turn to groan, and when you say, “Jaemin,” on a sharp exhale, you sound even more needy than anything else. Your fingers brushing over the hem of your panties, teasing yourself with whether or not you should dip beneath the fabric and touch yourself.

“You like that idea, angel?” He asks, a grin in his voice. “Like thinking about my mouth so close to your pussy.”

At his words, you couldn’t help but picture the scene. His head navigating between your legs, his strong arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you open so he could follow through on his promise. It was all too easy to imagine the way he’d look at you, mischief sparkling in his brown eyes as he slowly, teasingly kissed your mound over your panties, tongue sneaking out to lick the pink material. The picture he painted had you squirming in your bed. 

You couldn’t take it anymore, your fingers finally sliding into your panties, finding your pussy wet and swollen and needy.

When you don’t respond except with a sharp gasp, Jaemin asks, “Are you touching yourself?” 

His voice turns seductive. “You have to tell me if you are, angel—best friends tell each other this sort of thing. I have to know when you’re fingering your needy little cunt.”

“Oh god, Jaemin,” you cry softly, your breaths coming harsher. But you don’t for a second consider hiding what you were doing from your best friend. “Yes, I’m t-touching myself.”

“Good girl,” he praises, making warm pride curl through your chest as more wetness flooded your core. “Touch that pretty pussy for me.”

“H-how would you know it’s pretty?” you ask on a gasp, forcing the question out between hitching breaths as you slowly trace a finger around your dripping hole, teasing yourself and making you wetter.

“Because everything about you is pretty, angel. The way you laugh at me when I’m drunk, the way you bite your lip when you’re unsure, the way you look at me… fuck, you’re so fucking pretty.”

Your finger pauses and you suck in a deep breath, thoughts running chaotically. Jaemin had never complimented you like this before, and you couldn’t help yourself from asking a question you desperately wanted an answer to. 

“How do I look at you, Jaemin?” you ask in a small voice, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in the expression he’d just mentioned.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” he teases. “You look up at me, giving me the dirtiest fuck me eyes possible. Fluttering your pretty eyelashes like you’re begging me to bend you over every surface and stuff you full of my cock.” 

“Jaemin,” you cry out in a little sob, emotions and arousal swirling through your body completely overwhelming you for a moment. 

“I know angel,” Jaemin’s voice is soothing and deep. “I know you give those eyes to me.” 

He paused for a moment and all you could hear was his deep, steady breathing. 

“Because you’re mine, yeah?” There was a thread of uncertainty in his question, and it made your heart thump in response.

“Yeah,” you agree without hesitation, without protest. “I’m yours, Jaemin.” 

“Good,” he declares. Without giving you time to fully process what had just transpired between the two of you, Jaemin continues speaking, his voice diving an octave lower and growing rough. “Now slide one of your fingers into that pretty pussy of yours.” 

It was so easy to listen to him, to give yourself over to his command. Letting his deep voice reverberate in your head, heat curling all through your body down to the tips of your toes, as you press one of your fingers into your wet hole. A soft moan tumbles from your lips and you knew Jaemin heard it from the way he sucks in a breath.

“That’s it, angel, being so good for me,” his breaths coming harsher down the phone line. “Tell me how it feels.”

You sink into the sensations and the sound of his voice, letting your eyes fall closed. You feel like you’re floating in the soft sea of your bed as you pull your finger out and thrust it back inside your pussy. 

“Feels so good,” you answer in another moan.

Jaemin responds with a groan of his own. “Bet you’re fucking tight,” he says, breath heavy and raw. “Bet you’re clenching down on your little finger, aren’t you?”

Like your body was trained to respond to his voice, your pussy clenches around your finger at his words and you let out a hitching moan. But Jaemin doesn’t stop talking. His deep, hoarse voice fills your ears and makes you hotter and hotter.

“Fuck, angel, keep going—keep fingering that wet pussy for me while I stroke my dick to those sweet little sounds you make,” he urges, as he bit back his groans. You moan and gasp in response to his filthy words. “Fuckin’ hell, I wish it was your warm cunt gripping me right now, clenching hard around my thick cock while I fuck you.”

“Please,” you beg, not sure what exactly you were asking for but knowing you didn’t want him to stop talking. You add another finger to your dripping hole, crying out at the slight stretch.

“Would you like that, angel?” he asks, managing to fill his tone with teasing even as his heavy breaths gave away how turned on, he was. “Tell me—fucking tell me,” he prompts when you don’t respond, too busy fucking yourself with your fingers to the sound of his voice.

A whine forces itself out of your lungs, the simple command sounding so filthy from your best friend’s mouth. “Yes, Jaem,” you whimper an answer between your gasping breaths. “Want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck—fuck,” he groans almost painful. “The next time I see you, that pussy is mine. Gonna bury my face between your thighs and make you come on my tongue,” he promises. “Then I’m gonna shove my cock deep in your cunt and fuck you stupid.”

“Jaemin,” you sob out his name, fucking yourself harder as you picture your best friend hovering over you while you lay in his bed. You imagine how his body would start fucking you into the mattress, his cock buried deep in your pussy, your arms and legs wrapped around him — anything to be close to him. 

Through the phone, you hear the soft sound of Jaemin fucking himself into his own fist, the strain in his voice every time he spoke. 

Imagining your best friend sprawled on his bed, jeans open just enough for him to have his cock out, gripping and pumping his length roughly with his eyes squeezed shut. Thinking about him like that makes you whimper.

“Fuck—I can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’d look while I fuck you, angel,” he murmurs. “Wanna see my cock stretch you while I pound into you, wanna see your pretty lips swollen from my kisses as you moan for me, wanna see your eyes go all hazy as you get stupid on my cock.”

As he speaks, your thumb circles your clit and you moan loudly into the phone. Your best friend’s filthy words make your pussy clench down hard on your fingers as you get closer and closer to your release. 

“Don’t stop, Jaem, please don’t stop,” you beg breathlessly. Jaemin lets loose a deep groan in response to your desperate plea, the sound making your thighs clamp down hard around your hand. You wish your legs were wrapped around his waist instead of your wrist.

“Fuck your pussy, angel, nice and hard.”

You cry out as you force a third finger, making yourself stretch to take the intrusion. 

“That’s it, that’s my good girl, fuck yourself stupid to the sound of my voice,” he encourages. 

Even with how far gone you are, you can hear the cocky grin in his tone, but your body just flushes and clenches tight in response. Desperately, you fuck yourself harder, hips rocking into your hand, mind drowning in lust as you gasp and moan into the phone. Knowing he can hear you only urges you not to hold back. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jaemin groans loudly, his breath coming in sharp pants. “Keep making those cute little sounds for me, my cock is aching for you—fuck!” The cockiness in his tone fades into desperation. 

“Jaemin,” his name tumbles past your lips. 

You’d said your best friend’s name countless times over the years, but never like this—never with your fingers buried deep in your cunt wishing it was his thick cock.

“Jaem, I need…” you trail off, not even knowing what you need, just knowing he was the only one who could give it to you.

“You need my cock, don’t you?” You can hear the way his grin curls at the edges of his mouth. “Need my cock just like I need your pussy.” He bit off the end of his sentence with a groan. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come,” he moans. “Gonna come so hard to your sweet little moans, angel.”

You gasp and your back arches off your bed when you rub your thumb roughly over your clit. You moan so shamelessly for your best friend. “So close.” 

“When I fuck you,” he starts, cutting himself off abruptly as he groans again. “When I fuck you, angel, I’m gonna make you come so hard on my cock,” he promises, voice rough and deep you swear you can feel the pleasure from the sound shooting from your ear directly to your clit. “And while you’re screaming my name and coming all over my dick, I’m gonna bury myself in that sweet pussy and pump you full of my load—you want my come, angel?”

“Yes, Jaemin, please come inside me, fill me up,” you babble, so close to your own release you barely know what you’re saying. 

“That’s it. That’s my slutty little angel, begging for my come.” He groans, stroking himself faster. “Come for me, come for your best friend,” he commands, pausing to moan lowly. “Tell me who you belong to.” 

“I’m yours, Jaemin, all yours,” you cry out. With one more deep thrust of your fingers, the heel of your hand grinding against your clit, you come apart. 

You moan loudly as waves of pleasure surged through you, consuming you. Your limbs shaking as you wrench every ounce of pleasure from your release, fucking yourself through it as you breathe fast and harsh.

“That’s my good girl. Coming so sweetly for me, so perfect.” He grunts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! You made me come so fucking hard, angel,” he mumbles, a little breathless.

Since you hadn’t fully regained control over your body, you just hummed in delight. You were still riding the aftershocks of your orgasm, your lips turned in a smile while you listened to Jaemin catching his breath.

“Like hearing me come apart for you?” He teases the question. “Wish you were here to clean up the mess you made.” 

“Jaem,” you try to put some reproach into your voice but fail miserably as you giggle. 

“Don’t worry, you can help the next time I see you.”

The line goes quiet for a moment, the two of you gathering yourselves together. “You’re still my best girl, right?” he finally asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I’m your girl.”

“That’s good to hear,” he murmurs, sighing contentedly, and you can tell he was starting to drift off. “Because all of me is yours, angel. And I plan on showing you that when I’m back.”

#a part two would not hurt- #this whole thing is just #Yes #beautiful #stunning #amazing #nana #jaemin smut #gonna tag #jaemin fluff #bc he was so sweet:( #smut #fluff

[faesficfix]

*:ꔫ:*﹤𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚣𝚎﹥*:ꔫ:* pt 1

˚ ♡ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠- werewolf!Jaemin x fem vampire!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬- minors dni - violence, main character death(vampire turning idk), angst, smut, blood, biting, light cnc, praise, degrading, mentions of breeding kink, implied corruption kink, size kink, dry humping(?), dacryphilia, manipulation, making out, abo dynamics, vampire/supernatural dynamics, etc

𝔞/𝔫: i hope you enjoy, please leave feedback if youve liked it :) this is my first fic on here :0! I will be posting the second part soon when I get the chance to get finished on it 🫀

'tonight was your last night being alive, little do you know'

════ ♡❣♡ ════

you are grabbing up your spare items, the small travel makeup you brought to touch up your makeup to take pictures to post later, your materials get shoved into your flimsy tote bag as you turn to look at her. walking into her room after cleaning up the wine glasses and mess the two of you created in the livingroom of her small downtown home. "you sure you're good to go home? you can stay the night..its late y'know?" she says stripping her shirt off her body to change into less confining clothes, walking to her dresser to grab a makeup wipe and rub and smear her makeup with the cheap dried up wipe, making red flushed agitation on her face with every wipe, "we can watch movies or go get some food at the gas station."

you came to your friends house for a girls night to talk and catch up. being friends with her and her other friends, on the weekends when you weren't working at your shitty job at the organic store, selling whole foods and herbs, you didn't mind it. your work being in the rural area near your house.

you watch and listen to her, considering her offer but far too overstimulated from hours of hanging out with your extroverted friend, "ah, thank you. but i have to do some chores at my house before work tomorrow, although i would enjoy to stay" you make a small smile to ease your words. "okay then get home safe" she nods before going into her bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth.

with that, you walk to the door and grab your keys before opening in to shout an 'i love you' to your close friend before shutting the door after locking the handle so she wouldn't need to worry about locking up before bed, a conscious habit you have obtained.

a headache creeps up on you, as you have to climb the stairs to the parking deck downtown to get to your car. in the only place you could find parking in the downtown parking garage near her house, after being towed last time, you parked at the stop sign by her house.

as you get to the elevator at the mid-floor you see someone standing there. you walk up and excuse yourself to them as you hit the button to the highest floor and step back and wait, just at the person is.

you grip your keys in impatience for the elevator, briefly looking at the other person waiting. tall skinny stature and a hood covering their face and torso, accompanied by a mask. you hear the ding on the elevator before gripping your bag and striding in, the ominous person joining you as the doors close.

you are going to die tonight, and you know nothing of it.

you sigh out, before you have little recollection of what happens next. being pushed and slammed into the elevator floor, trying to sit up, you yelp out before strong hands grasp your throat and slam your head onto the linoleum floor of the compact elevator.

you look up choking, tears obscuring your vision as the person stands on their knees over you, choking you with vicious force. your eyes feel cold and your head starts throbbing, your blood begging for air to be delivered to your lungs, your heart choking on your suffocation as your body jerks trying to get away, as you feel pain and crushing in your throat. choking and coughing, not being able to make any other noise further. but the look in their eyes is something you don't see before your vision turns dark and you feel nauseous.

you died tonight and you didnt even know.

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the feeling of your body strikes you, burning agonizingly as you wake up in the bathroom of the parking garage. on the cold tiles, you force yourself up to throw up but nothing comes out but your own drool. your head feels like it will explode. the florescent lights burning your eyes more than they should. your chest is tight and painful as you move, your whole body feeling like it is filled of shards of glass in a plastic body.

you force yourself up to stand, holding onto the sink to look at yourself in the mirror. purple and red banding stained into your skin from the hands that once viced your neck. the bruises almost stare at you, along with another set of eyes behind you. almost breaking your neck to look at her.

your friend's coworker that you have met once, seeing her once when picking your friend up from work.

she looks at you and sighs sorrily, rubbing her forehead. "i found you in the elevator, I'm sorry."

this night's events flooding your mind, fresh and ready to be remembered. your eyes swell with tears as they rip down your face. your voice breaks as you hold your neck and sob out a cry animalistically.

she crouches and rubs your back awkwardly and shakes her head sighing again, almost annoying you, "i know.. you need to listen to me. stop crying." her voice wavering an angry tone.

════ ♡❣♡ ════

from then until your phone alarm goes off, she explains; you were killed, she doesn't know who did it nor did she see them, only seeing your dead body as she got back from work, taking the elevator to make her way to her apartment on the other side of the parking garage. having no choice but to turn you, knowing her dear friend cherished your spirit and relation. the guilt made her turn you, ablet still guilty in the pain you will have to suffer the rest of your life.

she urges you to leave the city to another.

as you shakily turn off your morning alarm you look at her, "i- i have to leave?" your voice breaks as she nods. your tears never stopping once, thousands of thoughts running through your head along with thousands of stimulations of your new being.

your teeth aching like wisdom teeth pushing though. a new body made through your transformation. main organs not needed anymore. only to rot inside you and be made into new, only needing blood of those who are alive, not food or water. your body is aching.

your heart is aching.

════ ♡❣♡ ════

it took you a week to figure out what to do with yourself, rotting in your little room as you force yourself to pack. your destination decided. to the largest city in your country. with new information burned into your head, realization that humans aren't the only ones living as people on this earth; as she only briefly mentioned other supernatural beings; werewolves and demons and 'everything in-between'.

you have your flight set up, and your bags packed. all that is left to do is pick up the controlled amount of blood from a vampire shelter. a short trip along the way to the airport.

after your arrival and long flight, the new city greets you with rude unfamiliarity. almost like a smack in the face making fun of you for letting this happen to yourself.

you have triple masked, after being warned at the shelter how intense your cravings will be, explained to you as you promised yourself and them you will never feed on anyone. only to be scoffed and laughed at in your face. the situation replaying like a broken record in your head as you walk up the stairs to go your newly bought apartment, ready to welcome you home, emptily.

════ ♡❣♡ ════

the night approaches fast as you try to make your apartment your own. the faux blood supplements wearing off as you get out of your warm shower, taking more than two hours basking in the heat. only to feel gross and cold as you get out, your blood cold and annoying you dearly. packing your heated blanket would have been the best decision, you mentally note.

drying your hair and straightening it for the next day to register to the new collage in the city, you do your skincare routine. not like it matters anymore anyways.

you throw on a pair of underwear and a snug tank top as your pajamas and make your way to your small kitchen, cold feet equal in temperature to the tiles in your floor. as you pass the thermometer in your apartment you turn up the heat then approach your fridge; opening it to one pack of blood the shelter forced you to take, along with the liquid faux blood supplements you got from the shelter. you grab the small bottle of the supplements, drinking it all like a shot. not satiating you one bit.

time wonders as you stand there, staring at the blood bag; seemingly staring straight back at you. you try to repeat, "i will never drink blood" breathily. your head only aching and your throat burning and tensing in dry heat, your chest tightening and feeling like you can breathe normally.

the thought of the blood making you pant softly. in a mental war with yourself, you slam your head into the fridge door to try to get ahold of your frustration. only caving to your urges and grabbing the bag.

ripping it open withought the thought of putting it into a glass or using scissors. it rips fully down the middle, spilling all over your hands and the white tile. you scream out in such distraughtness, the smell of the blood, the hunger.

the process of licking and lapping the blood off your hands as you scoop and scrape it off yourself and the floor, the syrupy texture and consistency slipping as you rush to lap it up before it get oxidized. a disgusting mess as you pant and moan licking up the blood, your body heading up in euphoria. as you come to your senses, your lips being cut by your own fangs as you bite them in anger as your eyes well up with tears.

you clean up in dissapointment in yourself and hate and resentment of the fact you are a vampire.

in the morning you wake up in dramatic hunger, this starting to annoy you. you get up to shoeer and get ready for school. your arrival to the campus registry early as you rush yourself.

after getting your schedule and placing blood pills under your tongue to calm your hunger and nerves as you walk to your first class.

════ ♡❣♡ ════

a week passes before you start to fantasize of feeding off of someone. your classmates communally smelling so strong, testing you every day. you make an aquantince in the hall after he bumps into you. maybe its the lonliness talking, he did only say sorry but lately you have been distraced by him easily, your curiousity taking over. maybe even your desprateness either way, you cant get him out of your mind.

you make it a point to walk past the library every day to see if he is in there, which he is. observing his black hair and features. starting to do your homework in the library just to get a smell of his scent. when you dont see him there one day and you feel sunken and upset you realize it is getting out of hand. your browse the books as you sigh, trying to find something to keep your mind occupied. being snatched out of your dread; the sudden smell of blood bothers you. wanting to know where it is coming from. leading yourself to the gym.

'university blood drive' is the poster over the door as you look through the window to see what is going on.

"do the blood drive? youre going to steal blood aren't you huh?" he spits harsh words at you, the thought of stealing blood bags didn't even come to your mind untill he brought it up. you feel stupid not even considering it.

the voice behind you startles you as you turn around to be met with the face of the man you forced yourself too hard to push out of your mind, "are you following me" he looks down at you, getting familiar with your face.

"wh- huh?- no!" your eyes widen and your eyebrows scrunch lookinng away from him. "then." he leans down some to look you in the eye, "why. do. i. keep. seeing. you?" his dark eyes startle you as his scent is really overwhelming you and you cant think straight, "i- dont know" you huff, "i-its not my fault. im trying to get the courage to do this blood drive thing" you huff changing your expression, making yourself seem annoyed, wanting to seem more convincing.

"i dont even know you or who you are, not everything is about you." you say before turnining to grab the handle of the gym door to walk in. only for your arm to be grabbed harshly, it would be painful if your throat wasn't aching at the smell of him. he forces to turn to look back at him, dark glare looking down at you.

"wh- why would I steal blood?" your voice wavers as your hands tremble and you feel cood, feeling needy and hungry at the same time.

he looks at you, mentally asking himself if he's the one making a fool of himself. did he second guess himself? were you a vampire or were you just an odd stupid human. the hush hush-ness of identity in this world constantly causing conflict within communities.

he huffs out as he puts distance between the two of you, shoving his hand away from touching your arm, only after getting a slight smell of your own scent. only confusing him more. "answer me honestly..whatever your name is", pausing and trying not to call you something harsh like he was planning to.

"what am I?..", looking at him with scrunched eyebrows, "I'm a student here?"

"y/n.." you push, rubbing your arm over where he was gripping you. his heat transfered onto your skin, briefly leaving heat behind. "what are you" he asks bluntly.

if your heart had blood pumping through it, it would have dropped into your stomach by now.

even in your human life, your living life; you didnt mess around or have any relationships. focusing on work and your finances over a live life. a heavy feeling of embarrassment washes over you from the unfamiliar feeling of having someone this close, and this attractive all up on you.

the growl he huffs out is almost animalistic as he grabs your wrist harsh and starts to drag you down the hall, the strength of him making you almost trip.

he leads the both of you to an empty room, pushing you in to shut to door. you look around only for him to get in your personal space, backing you up into the wall. "answer my question. I know you're not a human." his voice is deep and it shakes you.

you stutter to find your words, a mantra of 'i's and uh's' leaving your mouth before a scoff leaves his. "quit the fucking act y/n, I'm not fucking stupid." his temper shortening by your stalling.

"i-im not putting up an act" you sigh out and press your hand against his chest, trying to push him away to get some air that isn't thickly covered by his intoxicating scent. feeling breathless and weak under him. the smirk spreading over his face as he steps closer and grabs your jaw, his large hand holding both sides of your face. "hmm then what are you mm? I can't hear your heart you're not a werewolf, maybe you're just a weak demon hmm? or maybe a ghoul? what is it?" he coos through and licks over his sharp canines, becoming more fond of your weakness in this situation. his first thought was that you were planning on hurting him. maybe he was right but the fight you're putting up now is diminishing any worry he had.

a broken whine seeps through your lips as you cover over your mouth and nose with the back of your hand, still gently pushing as his chest with the other; trying to turn your head to release his hold on your face. you feel like you're going to pass out with how hungry and breathless you feel. "n-no I'm not- stop getting so close to me.." your throat aches and you want to hit yourself. "I don't even know you." you huff out trying to reason with him.

"mm with how much you've followed me I thought you did" he hums and leans close to your neck and presses to tip of his nose at your throat, breathing in your scent and humming. saying his name in a questioning voice almost asking you why you haven't heard it yet. "jaemin?" he hums out as he pushes his head closer in the nook of your neck, scenting you more. trying to get an answer from it since you won't tell him what you are.

"I wasn't following you" you whine out and you feel like your knees will give out. "you're such a fucking liar, I'm not planning on outting you. what use would it give me if I'm not even human either."

not human? you question in your mind. why would you be hungry over something that isn't a human? your knowledge on yourself and anyone around you being near zero, you feel like an imposter of a vampire.

"you're a vampire aren't you?" you freeze and swallow, he smirks as he coos at you, "there's not many vampires around here y/n" your mouth gapes as you try to speak, "i-im not-" jaemin cuts you off to press his mouth onto yours, making you whine and melt under the taste of his lips immediately hitting the back of your throat.

lost in your own thoughs, ripped out of your track of thought as it is. the hot feeling of his tongue lapping over your neck rips a whimper out of your chest. you feel dizzy, 'theres no way this is happening right now' travels though your mind as you pull back.

hitting your head against the wall. the amused hum jaemin let's out vibrates onto your skin. pulling back and looking down at you, pushing your jaw to make you look at him directly.

jaemins eager kisses steal any thoughts from your mind, making it blank as he kisses you hard. tilting your head to deepen the kiss, the gasp leaving your mouth allowing him access into your mouth. licking over your lower lip before licking into your mouth to taste you, granting you a satisfying taste of him to make you moan into the kiss.

you fist at his shirt as you let him dominate and lead you though the kiss, his need for air seemingly not as urgent as your reactive body. his tongue licks at the roof of your mouth and behind your teeth, finding your fangs.

the situation of itself is amusing and arousing for jaemin.

jaemin drags his tongue over the sharp point of your fang, letting it rip his pink tongue to allow his hot blood to seep into your mouth along with the mixed saliva shared between the two of you. his blood, hot and like thinned honey, coats your tongue with the subtle taste of sweetness behind the savory taste of his blood, similar to his intoxicating scent. enough for you to start licking into his mouth and over his tongue, gripping his wrist and shoulder.

everything becoming suddenly too intense but yet not enough, the searing heat bursting though your body as enough blood gets to the back of your throat to swallow. moaning messily into the kiss before sucking on his tongue.

you pull away from the kiss to catch your breath, moaning and panting as you try to grasp onto him to hold yourself up even though you don't need to, your hands find their way to grasping over his biceps, looking at him breathlessly, unknown to you, your eyes a deep red.

jaemin likes it messy. jaemin likes to see people pitiful and needy and this is more than enough to stur his cock in his jeans. his foot kicking your feet apart to allow him to slot his hips between them, his free hand grabbing the side of you, pulling himself closer to you as you curl under him.

he doesn't care if you can handle him or not. jaemin's hot skin makes you feel too warm for comfort as he pulls his hand from your face to pick you up by your hips enough for him to have better access to you and your mouth, not caring if you wrap your legs around him, his strength enough to hold you to how he wants you, small enough for him to hold you freely and bend you any which way.

eyes coated with barely enough tears to fall from your eyes, lips stained with his blood subtly and swollen from his harsh kisses. you pant, "p-please..jaemin-" you don't know what youre pleading for, youre not even in the mindset to know what he is going to do to you next. mind clouded and dumb over the small bit of his strong blood.

"you smell so nice" he growls out as he grinds his chubbed up length through the confinement of the clothes between you. enough to give stimulation to the both of you. you moan out and lean into his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses over the expanse of his neck. feeling his heart beat under your lips as you become addicted to all of him. the stimulation to your clit from his grinding drives you to moan onto his neck, unable to stop yourself from sinking into his hot skin. the growl he lets out into your neck drives your mind to fog with lust.

jaemin licks his lips and sinks his front teeth into his lover lip as he presses his growing bulge into your seeping cunt as he rasps out a groan and goes for your throat again, licking and sucking your taste and scent into his hungry mouth.

you don't know if he's a vampire or not, his heat feeling too much for you as you crave more of his blood. his neck on full display for your access, tempting you to sink your teeth into and have as much as you'd like.

properly drinking from him and tasting his blood is enough to make you come. moaning pathetically as your thighs tremble in his grasp as you lap at the blood that comes from the bite. sucking and licking your to the into the wound to get as much as he will give you. your moans never stopping as you taste him, the publicity and possibility of anyone hearing you or him is not a worry in your mind.

pulling from his neck and craning your head back as he sucks dark marks into your throat as you pant and come down from your first orgasm, your whole body twitches subtilty and the continued pressure of his hard cock on your heat stars to overwhelm you. short grunts leaving his mouth as he has his way with you, hands exploring under your clothes to grasp at your now heated skin to pull you closer if it were even possible. the shakey moan that leaves your mouth as he leaves your neck with a pop of his lips leaving your now bruised skin, "ah jaemin" your whines only becoming more needy.

jaemin licks his lips as he looks at you, stilling his ministrations as he smirks. he can't help the feeling of wanting to claim you, you're so perfect and pliant for him, why wouldn't he want to? in the back of his mind he feels his rut will start early. although how disappointed he would be to leave you like this and wanting more, it also excites him.

"such a good girl, this couldve happened longer if you weren't so persistent on fucking lying to me" he bites his lip as he grinds slowly before pulling back to drop you down back to your feet, only for you to drop to your knees and sit onto the ground breathlessly. looking up at him dumbly as your wrinkled clothes and distraught appearance drives him crazy. your stuttering becoming all you can say as you can say anything but nonsense. fucked dumb by the taste of him and only by his touch on you. he sucks his teeth, wanting to ruin you but he can't risk having his rut somewhere unsafe.

he kneels down, his toned thighs flexing and tensing over his thighs as he grasps a fistful of your hair to make you look at him, the stinging bringing you to your senses slightly as you look up at him. "mmh you're so fucking cute for me like this" he pulls your hair back more, making your head follow his minstrations and a whine rip from your throat. satisfying him, he cups your cheek and rubs his thumb over your lower lip as he lets go of your hair. "I'll see you later baby" he smirks before getting up, leaving without saying another thing. the door shutting and leaving you there fucked out and the feeling of awareness and embarrassment creeping over you the longer you sit there.

"what is happening.."

#holy shit- #MY VAMPIRE DIARIES HEART #nana #faves! #jaemin smut

[faesficfix]

HITS DIFFERENT | L.DH

TITLE: hits different

PAIRING: lee haechan x fem!reader | mc’s best friend johnny, haechan’s roommate mark (+ kinda emotional support boy when mc acts like a loser)

GENRE: non-idol au, strangers to friends with benefits to lovers, getting together, smut, angst, fluff | requested

SUMMARY: nobody ever got under your skin, not until Haechan came in your life and changed everything. 

WARNINGS: smut, protected and unprotected sex (condom first and then mc is on the pill), multiple sex scenes, oral sex, fingering, car sex, riding, fingers sucking, face sitting, rimming, anal, mirror sex, a bit of exhibitionism (as a fantasy), praise, teasing (as in degradation but it’s not hard stuff), handjob, morning sex, kitchen sex, toys (vibrator), overstimulation, (no bdsm but) switchy dynamics, sa doesn’t happen but there are a few references to pushy behaviours | I hope I didn’t forget anything but if I did, let me know! | kinda implied that both haechan and the reader are bi because in this house we only support mxf bi4bi couples (joking… unless) do whatever you want with this information.

WC: 44.804k

TAGLIST: @adorejaehyn​@matchahyuck​@sundhaelatte@jjhmk​@ourbeautifulaffair​@what-the-jams​@oleoleniall​ @kundann @bbagu​@ismileeprnc-responder​@produmads​@zkdlllin​@yesohhsehun​@aliceinwhateverland​@strangevante​ @cas104 @hyuckdreams​

A/N: finally writing hyuck as a loser male wife (kinda) my life is complete!!! It’s been months and I’m back with a request, I know it took long to write it but I hope whoever requested will like this. I’m still not sure about the present tense but idk I’m trying out new things. I would really appreciate if you could support my work in any way, feedback makes me happy and motivates me to keep writing. If you can, reblog so it can reach more people or come and chat in the ask box to let me know your opinion! Love you, enjoy!

It was Johnny’s fault. It’s always his fault when things don’t go as planned. 

It’s his fault if right now you are jumping around Haechan’s bedroom trying to look for your clothes while the clock is running fast, and you are running late. 

Keep reading

#to read

[faesficfix]

learning languages | lee donghyuck

pairing: lee donghyuck | nct haechan x reader word count: 18.5k genre: university au, getting together, smut, fluff, angst summary: in which you're an exchange student and donghyuck teaches you the essential korean phrases you need, and eventually how to fall in love with him tag list: @smwhrinthehaze @byungbyungbaek @sundamariis @thiccfullsun @yesohhsehun @haechoshi @najmnluvr @liz-zo @heyitsconysstuff @magicastle @novawon @gaeulswrld author’s note: I’m so sorry it took so long, but here it is! I imagine conversations with everyone in Korean, except for Mark! 😊 I imagine the conversations with Mark in English. I also have 0 knowledge with the Korean language except from the common phrases every Kpop fan knows lol. So please bare with me and feel free to correct me!

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

날씨가 추워 (nalssiga chuwo) – the weather is cold

The rain is pouring when you arrive in Incheon. 

It’s not as harsh as it is where you come from, but the February breeze still makes you shiver and curse under your breath, and while you’re wallowing and pouting over the fact that your first day in South Korea is not going as well as you wanted, Mark is chirpy—a little too happy for your liking. 

Of course, Mark is happy. Your bitterness over the weather is not going to spoil his energy, the exact same one—maybe stronger—he has had over the past couple of weeks, counting down the days he’d be back in Seoul, finally. Mark has told you that it had been over a decade since he last visited South Korea, and the Student Exchange Program from your university had been the best opportunity for him to come back after so long, too long. The stupid smile on his face somehow makes you feel better, especially when he jumps from his seat when he sees his childhood friend walk towards your area. 

Renjun is handsome like the picture that Mark sent you a week before your flight to South Korea, but it feels a little unfair that he’s even more attractive in person. His voice sounds like honey and the corner of his eyes crinkle when he smiles as he approaches you and Mark. 

They jump into a tight, dramatic hug that makes a few other people in the waiting area look, but the boys don’t care. Mark lifts Renjun up from the ground, it’s almost embarrassing. The sight makes you feel warm. You wonder how Mark feels. 

It must be amazing, you think, to finally meet someone you’ve been longing to see. Mark had always expressed his yearning for the place—the people, the friends he always had to leave behind when visiting during summer—and it makes you wonder how it feels like to have friends and family away from you. 

Evidently, this is your first time to be away from home. You live (or used to at this point) in a dormitory, a two-minute walk to the campus, a good hour away from home, but you always went home whenever you craved for your mother’s dishes. You’ve never considered living away from home. Sure, you had plans to move out eventually, but not in a different time zone, not in an entirely different culture. Mark, on the other hand, is frequently moving around, dragging his suitcase from place to place, leaving people behind and promising he’d come back when he can.

Born in Canada, Mark had been to more places that you could count, but he has told you many times that nowhere else feels like home, like Seoul. He’s told you many stories of the time his family lived there for a few years before going back to Canada, of his annual visits in the summer, and of his devastation when life had caught up with him that he had to stop visiting when he turned eleven. 

You remember his voice, its tone and emotion, when he called you a couple of months ago, informing you of the exchange program that the university’s administration had posted on the students’ corner, and how fucking amazing it would be if you could sign up with him. 

“It would be a good addition to your credentials,” he had told you. “It’s not going to be for a long time, a semester at least. And we have the option to stay the whole academic year if we wanted to! Plus, I already know a lot of people there. We’ll be fine!”

“I don’t know, Mark,” you had answered, feigning hesitation, even when you knew deep down that Mark had already convinced you by the tone of his voice when he revealed the news. “I’ve never been that far away from home. Remember when we went camping in ninth grade? I cried. For three whole days. I’m not going to survive a semester. Besides, I know not a single Korean word.”

“Come on, Y/N,” he had begged. “Think about it. You’ll be with me the entire time. If we pass the screening, the program will sign us up for free Hangul lessons—though, let’s be honest, I don’t really need it.”

“Why do you have to bring me anyway?” you had asked out of curiosity.

“Because I know you’ll love it there,” he had answered. “Your obsession with studying culture and languages will be satisfied because there is no better way to learn a culture than experiencing the whole thing with your best friend!”

You remember humming in response, as if you’re thinking deeply about it. Mark sighed on the other line, his words making you laugh and finally agree. 

“The chances of Mom letting me go is bigger when I tell her you’re coming with me,” he had admitted. Mark, upon hearing your agreement to his proposal, began listing out the places he would take you. The phone call lasted for three more hours and it had seemed like Mark already had an entire plan in his head before he even asked you if you would go with him. 

Passing the program had been easy and so was acquiring your visa. What was truly the pain in the ass, you admit, is learning the damn language. You salute Mark for being able to speak Korean so fluently, but he’s shit at teaching you and you had to rely on the free lessons you had taken every weekend and your favorite language mentor, Lee Minho in Legend of the Blue Sea. Your Korean is awful. Your tongue is a little too short, too stiff, for said language, and the situation almost makes you back out of the entire program and ditch Mark. 

But here you are, still shit at Korean, but standing among hustling people and waiting for your best friend to wrap up the moment he’s sharing with his long-time friend. Renjun finally catches your eyes as you awkwardly watch them on the side, your backpack becoming heavier each second you’re standing on the airport tiles. He pulls away from Mark, smiling, beaming towards you and offers a handshake. 

“Hwang Renjun,” he introduces. You remember their last names go first here. “Nice to meet you.”

It almost startles you when he speaks English. Mark forgot to mention his friend is fluent, you think. 

You tell him your name, voice smaller than it usually is, and express your relief that he speaks English. 

“I’m originally not from here either,” he explains. “I’m Chinese. My family had to move here before I could even properly pronounce words for my Dad’s work. Went to an international school, where I met Mark back in second grade.”

So, he’s cute and multilingual. How unfair.

“And I’d love to chat longer,” he says, switching to Korean now, before you can even respond. “But Hyuck is waiting in his car. We could talk on our way to your dormitory. For now, let’s go. Hyuck hates waiting.”

“Hyuck drove? What happened to your car?” Mark asks, helping you with your luggage and pushing the cart himself. Renjun insists to carry your backpack, and he had already gently pulled it from your shoulder before you could refuse.

Mark and Renjun talk about Hyuck, both switching to speaking Korean now, on their way out of the arrival area and it doesn’t take long for them to spot their friend’s car outside. The rain had stopped pouring by the time you’re settling yourselves inside their friend’s car. The second you settle yourself on the leather seat, you sigh in relief. Traveling is a lot more exhausting than you had initially thought. 

Renjun sits on the passenger seat, right beside Hyuck, you assume, and Mark settles himself beside you.

“Mark Lee,” Hyuck greets, looking at Mark through the rearview mirror. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

It takes you a second to understand what he said. It’s only then that you realize you really are in Korea. 

“Lee Donghyuck,” Mark responds in the same tone. “You’re real. I’m happy to see you in person and not just through Facetime. I want to hug you.”

“Am I better looking in person?” Hyuck teases. “Hug me when we’re at your dormitory. I’ll even kiss you on the lips if you want to.”

“Disgusting,” Mark grimaces. “By the way—” He turns his attention to you the same time Hyuck begins driving. “This is Y/N.”

Hyuck only smiles, nodding a little to you through the rearview mirror, brushing his brown hair using his fingers to fix it up. Renjun begins to ask how the flight was and Mark replies. All three boys strike up a conversation in Korean and it was all too much, too fast, for you to catch up and understand anything, so you stay quiet on your seat, leaning against the window, and begin to wonder how things will go for the entire spring semester you’ll be spending in this foreign city. 

Mark never told you that the drive from Incheon to Seoul is long, so far that you didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep.  When you arrive at the dormitory, it’s past six in the afternoon and Mark’s friends ask kindly if you want to go out for dinner. Politely and quite incoherently, you tell them that you’d like to stay. Mark insists on staying home with you and unpacking your belongings, but you urge him to go, spend some time with his friends and walk around. Mark hesitates, but agrees nonetheless, promising he will come back in an hour.

The place the program had picked for you and Mark is not that bad. It’s nothing like home, but it’s not bad. It makes you wonder how Mark does it. You remember not being able to sleep on the first few nights on your dormitory’s bed when you were a freshman. Mark had never told you if he’s had trouble adapting to places he’s been. Maybe you could ask him in the morning. 

The exhaustion hits you again upon entering one of the rooms. Room assignment is yet to be decided, but Mark wouldn’t mind if you sleep on one of the beds while he’s out. And so, you sleep. 

You don’t remember what you dream of. And Mark wakes you at seven in the morning, reminding you that you had to unpack and go grocery shopping. Momentarily, you forget where you are. It hits you the same way it does in his friend’s car. You’re in a different country. A different language. A different time zone. 

It doesn’t feel like home at all even though it’s cold. But you guess you’ll have to make it work. At least until the semester ends. 

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

약속해요 (yagsoghaeyo) – I promise

When Mark told you he knew a lot of people in Seoul, you should’ve known he was bluffing because he literally knew only seven people.

Mark Lee’s friends are warm and loud and somehow you feel out of place when they all decide to hangout where you and Mark are. It’s the first week of the semester, and you have completed all the orientation and tour you need; Mark, on the other hand, is still catching up with everyone.

By everyone, he meant Kevin Moon, a senior who is also Mark’s cousin’s long-distance boyfriend who happens to be studying in SNU too, Hwang Renjun from Natural Sciences, Lee Donghyuck from Music, Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin from Engineering and Architecture, Zhong Chenle from Humanities, and Park Jisung from Business Administration. Which is why every day, for the past five days, you’re at a place called Arcade, with Mark and two or three people from their group.

It turns out Hwang Renjun and Na Jaemin were Mark’s friends from childhood, the others are friends by extension.

Hwang Renjun, you understand why Mark is closest to him among all. He’s soft all over but sharp in the mouth. Renjun, you learn, likes to talk about life and likes to give people advice when they need it. He’s reserved with other people but is the complete opposite when he’s with his friends.

Lee Jeno is shy. He normally joins the group after his internship at a construction corporation in the outskirts of Seoul, which is why you haven’t really seen him much—only twice. You haven’t had that many conversations with him yet, but he’s kind enough to pass you the ketchup when he sees you staring at it from the end of the table.

Zhong Chenle and Park Jisung are best friends. There’s not a day that you have not seen either without the out, kind of reminds you of how you and Mark are. They join whenever one is available—two peas in a pod.

Na Jaemin is the closest with Lee Donghyuck. You see them talking in their bubble more frequently than the others. Jaemin is mysterious and a little cold—the complete opposite of Lee Donghyuck.

Lee Donghyuck, well, you’ve got a lot to say about him.

It isn’t necessarily an uncomfortable feeling, because Mark’s friends are kind enough to slow down when they talk to you and are quite protective of you, especially when a random stranger bravely comes up to you to introduce themselves. Lee Donghyuck, in particular, who’s as warm as the sun touching your skin at nine in the morning and whose voice is careful and assuring, ensures that you’re never out of place—even when you feel it all the time. From the day the semester started, there hasn’t been a day when Donghyuck isn’t hanging out with you and Mark at Arcade.

Mark normally picks you up from class because thank God your schedules are aligned to each other despite having different majors. The College of Social Sciences is quiet, unlike the building right beside you, College of Music, and Mark usually takes five minutes to find you, because you can’t trust yourself to walk around on your own—at least not yet. But today, Mark asked if you could meet Kevin first because his girlfriend had something for him from Canada.

“Hyungseo!” You hear someone call, making you look up from your phone to see Kevin walking towards you. He stops and turns around, a girl you’ve seen around the college of social sciences once or twice running towards him.

“Don’t forget to bring the laminated cards we need for Friday!” the lady shouts. Kevin gives her a thumbs up and turns back to you.

“Y/N, right?” he asks in English. You nod. He offers a hand. “I’m sorry we haven’t met personally yet. But I’m Kevin.”

“She called you Hyungseo, though,” you trail off, accepting the handshake anyway. “I’ve seen your pictures from Giselle’s phone, so I knew it was you.”

He laughs. “Hyungseo’s my Korean name. You should’ve packed her with you.”

You reach for your bag and hand him the box that’s been sitting in your backpack all day. “Here,” you say. “No plans on visiting sometime soon?”

Kevin sighs. “I wish I could,” he answers. “It’s not as easy as we thought.”

“You guys sound okay though,” you comment. “I mean, Giselle always sounds so happy when she talks about you back home.”

This makes Kevin smile. “Oh, she does?”

“Why would she think of getting you a gift all the way from home if she’s not?” you ask, biting your tongue as soon as the words come out. “Sorry, I shouldn’t ask.”

“Let’s talk about this over some soju when you find a dude you want to spend the rest of your life with here,” he jokes. “Thanks for bringing this. You and Mark have been so busy; he’s been declining all my invitations to hangout.”

You sigh, “Yeah. It’s only the first week and there are lot of things we had to do. I’ll ask him if we can hang out on the weekend?”

Kevin agrees and hands his phone to you, asking to put your number so he could call you. You do and tell him you’re grateful you could talk to someone in English aside from Mark and bid him goodbye when he leaves. You shoot Mark a text, telling him you’ll be waiting for him and that Kevin’s dropped by to get his gift from Giselle.

Hence, you wait outside, busying yourself with your phone, trying to avoid any interaction as much as you can, and you don’t notice Donghyuck standing beside you until he taps your shoulder and gives you a warm smile.

“Mark is running late,” he says slowly. “Let’s go to Arcade together.”

You smile at Donghyuck’s attempt to pronounce Arcade how you would and nod at him. He leads the way out of the building, his backpack on one shoulder, and asks you how your classes are so far.

“It’s okay,” you answer because it’s all you can think of. “Thank God my professor in Psychology speaks English.”

Donghyuck hums. “It must be difficult for you.”

“It is,” you confess.

Among everyone you have met so far, Donghyuck gives you the feeling of comfort; you’re not exactly the most outgoing person nor the least—you were in between. You were okay with that. And you were okay that Donghyuck is okay with that, too. He doesn’t push you to speak more (probably because he knows you most likely do not know how to say whatever you had in mind), but can be very persuasive when there’s a hint that you’re relaxed.

Lee Donghyuck is bold and charming and amiable like nobody you’ve ever known. Normally, or at least with how you’re used to, people are a little more reserved around people they just met. And culturally speaking, you didn’t expect Donghyuck to be so forward and already so comfortable hanging out with you, what more with having conversations like this.

“Don’t worry, though,” he assures. “You’ll be fine. You’re here for about six months, anyway. I promise it’ll be the best six months of your college years.”

He’s also bright like this—optimistic and kind and assuring. You’re glad Mark is friends with people like him, with Donghyuck.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you try to say, a phrase Mark taught you the other night. “Did I say that right?”

Donghyuck giggles, stopping and reaching up to ruffle your hair. “You’re absolutely adorable.”

“That, I am,” you joke back, more comfortable around him now.

“I promise,” he says. “It’ll be so good; you wouldn’t want to go back to Canada.”

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

한국말 잘 못해요 (hangugmal jal moshaeyo) – I don’t speak Korean well | 죽을래 (jug-eullae) – Do you want to die?

Donghyuck turns out to be a better teacher than Lee Minho and Mark Lee combined. He gifts you a small, pocket-friendly notebook, asking you to keep it for the rest of your stay, notably commenting that the material’s size will allow you to bring it everywhere you go. Hence, the tiny, brown faux leather notebook is safely tucked between your necessities inside your bag.

The first sentence he teaches you turns out to be the most essential: I don’t speak Korean well.

Donghyuck takes you to a café called 7 Days, an entirely different vibe compared to Arcade. You don’t question Donghyuck when he puts an arm on your shoulder as you walk together inside the café, but he asks you right away when he must have felt you stiffen from the touch: “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you answer quietly.

Donghyuck smiles warmly at you. “Here, have a look around and I’ll get you something to drink before we decide what we want to eat. I have the perfect drink for you!”

He goes before you could say anything. You look and realize that the café is not so bad. Its aesthetic is the complete opposite of what Arcade’s going for—cozy, serene, almost like a good place to study or sleep in, whatever you need to survive the day—and the Biscoff latte is bomb, you don’t think you can drink latte differently now.

Conversations with Donghyuck could, well, unfortunately, go only where your limit is. He’s fun and likes to tell a lot of stories, but it’s always interrupted with you asking what a word means and him pulling up his phone and have his translation app say it for you. He makes jokes that you regrettably do not understand, but Donghyuck doesn’t take it to the heart and only says: “By the end of the term, you’ll be saying these jokes to Mark Lee.”

Donghyuck excuses himself to go to the toilet about an hour later and allows you a few minutes by yourself, which you happily spend taking pictures of the interior of the café. You sigh when you realize you didn’t take a picture of the Biscoff latte when it was full and pretty. Someone taps you on the shoulder, and it could only be Donghyuck, so you turn with a smile.

“I forgot to take a picture of the drink—Oh.” It’s not Donghyuck. “I’m sorry, how can I help you?” you ask politely.

The man towers over you and he smiles warmly. Your cheeks flush when he does, because you probably mispronounce each syllable from that sentence. “I’m Sanha.”

You bow courteously, still have 0 idea why the man is talking to you.

“I don’t see you around often,” he says. “And I’m here, like, almost all the time unless I have a class. My dad owns the place. How do you like it so far?”

“It’s… okay,” you say. Sanha chuckles, and your face is hot you probably look like a red potato now. “I mean, not just okay, I just can’t find the words to—”

He takes Donghyuck’s seat. “I can teach you,” he offers. “We can meet up here, and—”

Donghyuck calls your name, voice firm and monotonous like never before. “It’s getting late. Mark texted me to take you home early because Chenle’s making dinner at your place.”

You look at Sanha apologetically, still unable to reply properly so you only say, “I’m sorry.”

Donghyuck doesn’t give you the chance to say anything more because he’s already helping you out of your seat, turning you around so you could start walking towards the door, pushing you until you’re out of the café.

You hear him sigh as you walk away from the café, arm around your shoulder like how you entered the place.

“Y/N, my sweet pea,” he softly says. “Please don’t to talk strangers.”

You shrug, “It’s not like I could just ignore him when he was already taking you space.”

He scoffs. “When strangers start talking to you and being all brave and upfront, you tell them: I don’t speak Korean well. Then just start hitting them with English words and exaggerate your accent. That’s how Mark Lee tries to avoid conversations with girls sometimes because he’s a loser and women make him nervous.”

“I don’t speak Korean well,” you repeat, slowly pronouncing each syllable.

“Where’s the notebook I asked you to bring everywhere?” Donghyuck asks. “Write that down.”

You nod and tell him you’d do it later. Donghyuck leads the way towards the stop just in time for the bus that’s about to leave. You and him hop in, taking the seats in the back, giggling when Donghyuck almost topples over as soon as the bus starts to move. He lets you sit by the window and starts telling you about how his sister always fights him to get the window seat and he’s never won so he naturally just gives people the said seat.

You’re nearby the next stop when you ask him: “Donghyuck, what if I tell people I don’t speak Korean well and they wouldn’t stop bothering me?”

Donghyuck looks nice in his brown, fluffy jacket, face bare, his eyeglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He looks even nice whenever he smiles like this.

“Y/N, do you know how cute you are?” An answer you don’t expect. “You’re so cute when you ask questions like this. I want to put you in my pocket.”

“Donghyuck,” you sigh, expecting a serious answer.

He reaches up to pat your head. “You won’t have to worry because we won’t let you be on your own unless you ask us to stay away. Especially me. Not me. I’ll make sure to take care of you and Mark while the two of you are here.”

You nod, still not satisfied with the answer. The Sanha situation awhile ago makes you realize how helpless you’d be if you weren’t with Mark or any of his friends. Donghyuck probably notices your dissatisfaction when he feels like you’re sulking, which you definitely are, because he chuckles and pokes your cheek to get your attention again.

“If it makes you feel better,” he says. “You could always ask them if they want to die.”

“That’s mean!” you gasp.

“Or tell them to fuck off,” he shrugs.

“Donghyuck!”

“What?” he asks. “It’s not like I don’t hear you and Mark say ‘fuck you’ to each other every day.”

You laugh at that. “Saying it in Korean hits different.”

“Right!” Donghyuck agrees. “I’ve been telling people saying fuck you in Korean has more impact than in any other language. I can say the word fuck every day.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” you joke.

Donghyuck coos. “Oh, I’m so proud of you. You’re cracking jokes now.”

The bus halts at your stop, and Donghyuck helps you up by taking your hand the way he’s helping you learn the language. It’s only when you’ve reached the street to the apartment you share with Mark that you realized you’ve been holding hands all the way from the bus stop.

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

저 알러지 있어요 (jeo alleoji iss-eoyo) – I’m allergic “Do you not understand what you just did, Mark Lee?” you ask in disbelief.

It’s only a month into your stay in Seoul, and Mark does the dumbest thing ever. Mark Lee comes home with a pet cat.

There were three rules for the spring semester, three very specific and very easy rules: one, to always text each other’s location as soon as you step foot outside of the apartment (which you and him are constantly compliant about; you love Mark Lee for that); two, to never skip a class unless you’re sick (you’re only here until July; Mark decided he’s not wasting a single day in Seoul, even if it means going to classes on time and by schedule without fail); and lastly, don’t keep things you won’t be able to take back home.

Mark had said that these rules are specifically for you because rule number one ensures your safety, rule number ensures you get the real Korean education experience, and rule number three apparently ensures you’re not leaving anything important at the airport when you leave—which now you think is bullshit. The rules are more for him than you, but you love Mark Lee, and it’s not like the cat isn’t cute.

“But, Y/N,” Mark pouts. “She kept on staring at me with these eyes when Renjun was busy comparing brands of dog treats. It was like her eyes were calling me, asking me to take her home!”

The calico cat is a baby; Mark said it’s not even five months old yet. It’s the last from seven siblings, the last one to be adopted (and you think Mark is only telling you this to convince you this is a good idea. She jumps out from Mark’s lap and goes to you, staring at you first before settling herself on your lap.

“She loves you already!” Mark comments.

You sigh. “Mark. You know we can’t take her home, right? We’re leaving in like, five months.”

“Which means I have five months to convince our friends to adopt her while I’m in Canada!” he answers enthusiastically, his eyes almost sparkling with the way he’s talking. “I couldn’t just leave her there. My heart wouldn’t allow me to leave without her!”

“Fine,” you give up. “Don’t cry on me on the plane back home when we leave her.”

Mark chuckles. “I think I should be more worried about you crying on the plane back home.”

Someone knocks on your door before you can ask what he means by that. It’s Mark who stands and welcome the person, and of course, it’s Donghyuck.

It’s Saturday. Saturday means Donghyuck comes and hangs out at your place because he no longer has to work in the university library on the weekends. He’d quit, saying his big mouth isn’t fit for the library, and had asked the school administration to reassign him to another facility. Part of his scholarship is to work at least 16 hours a week in one of the university’s facilities. He’s paid, of course, but Donghyuck says he’s not paid enough to keep his mouth shut for 16 hours a week. The admin asked for a week to figure out where he’d be assigned next, so he had this entire weekend all to himself, which, to how it looks like now, he’d decided to spend with you and Mark.

Mark lets Donghyuck in. The latter’s smile falters when he sees you; he only gives you a curt nod. And it’s not like you’re expecting Donghyuck to cuddle you on the couch, alright? It’s just that, you’ve known each other for a month now, and have hung out together a handful of times—just the two of you—and he called you yesterday telling you he’d come hangout with you and Mark for the weekend, even said something about teaching you to play Apex if you have the energy for it. And it’s not like he’s obligated to come sit beside you as soon as he enters your apartment, but you’re confused when he sits on the single couch far away from you, stance uncomfortable and his face looking like he’d rather be elsewhere.

Mark’s voice fades away when he asks Donghyuck what their plans are, to which Donghyuck answers: “I’m actually just here to say hi. I’m leaving in a bit.”

“No way,” Mark protests.

“Or we could go out?” Donghyuck offers.

“Uh-uh,” Mark refuses. “Y/N has been excited all morning to see you. You’re not going to disappoint her today.”

“I didn’t say anything—” You try to say, but couldn’t translate what you want to say quick enough. “Donghyuck obviously doesn’t want to be here.”

Over the course of a month living in Seoul, you and Donghyuck had grown closer more than anyone. It would be ridiculous to deny Donghyuck’s seemingly unceasing affection towards you, and in the same manner, it would be a lie if you’d say you’re not enjoying all the attention he’s been giving you. Above the flirty and friendly advances he makes (but never crossing the line), Donghyuck has grown to be a good friend. During the first couple of weeks, you would refer to him as Mark’s friend; it’s safe you say you’re friends with him now.

Donghyuck’s decided to pick you up from the college of Social Sciences, convincing Mark that his building is literally next to yours and that a ten-minute walk to Arcade with you is not going to hurt him—Mark’s been walking with you for many years anyway, he would mumble under his breath, close enough for you to hear but distant enough for you to understand what he truly means. Hence, with the growing friendship you have with him, you wonder what you had done this time.

“It’s not like that,” Donghyuck answers the question you had in mind, both hands raised in defense. You raise an eyebrow. “That.”

Donghyuck points at your lap, Mark’s unnamed cat sleeping soundly now. Oh.

“I’m allergic,” he explains. “I can’t be around one within like a five-meter radius otherwise, I would, like, you know, die.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Mark comments. “Are you really?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck confirms. “The allergens are getting to me. My throat is starting to close up. I have to leave now.”

This startles you and Mark, the latter quickly taking the calico cat from your lap and quickly taking it to his room. You reckon the cat’s allergens are all over you so you sit as far away as you can from Donghyuck.

“It’s fine,” he assures, but he already looks like he’s choking. “It’s not that serious. They usually just give me allergic rashes and kind of triggers my asthma. So, we’re good.”

“But you have a dog!” you remark. “You never told me you’re allergic to cats!”

He chuckles, “Well, you learn something every day.”

“There are some anti-histamine tablets from the cupboard,” you point out, still seated where you are. “I probably have allergens on my hands; please go get yourself one.”

Donghyuck does what he’s told, taking one and opening the fridge to get himself a bottle of water. You tell him you’re changing your clothes and ask him to wait up, offering to go out and have a meal with him instead.

Mark knocks on your door a couple of minutes later, finding you dressed up, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Donghyuck said he’d wait outside. You look nice.”

“I know I look nice,” you say as you go back to your vanity to throw whatever you’d need for the day in your small dumpling bag, including a box of Benadryl. “You’re not coming with us because you have cat all over you.”

Mark chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. “Donghyuck literally told me the same thing. He’s growing on you,”

You only hum in response, checking your bag for the last time before walking towards the door where Mark Lee is still leaning on, the same smirk playing on his lips still plastered.

“What?” you ask.

Mark doesn’t say anything, but he raises and shows you his right hand, sticking three fingers up.

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

먹었습니다 (meog-eossseubnida) - The meal was good.

Seoul National University’s library is as quiet as it can be; it’s almost scary how the only sounds you’d only hear are the faint sounds of pages being flipped and pens gliding on notepads, and the eerie echoes of the tension coming from students who are either cramming on an assignment or jumping from one subject to another in hopes of getting everything they read retained in their head.

Donghyuck used to tell you this is the exact reason why he didn’t like working at the library. It’s too quiet but too loud at the same time. You chuckle at the memory of him telling you anecdotes of his short-lived employment in the library and wonder how different it is being the soccer team’s laundry guy. He’s probably pouting all the way from the beginning of his shift until the end.

“Here,” Jung Sungchan disrupts your thoughts, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. “I found these, maybe it could help bridge the gap we’re struggling on.”

You and Sungchan are paired up for a two-week long assignment for one of your major subjects. The objective was to present a summarized and substantial report on the welfare state, and you think Sungchan must have tripped on all the bad luck in his life to have been paired up with someone who couldn’t speak Korean that well, because, well, the books they had are mostly in Korean. If speaking and understanding Korean is a struggle for you, reading the damn language is hell.

“This is a good thing,” Sungchan assures. “There are resources online that are mostly in English. We can combine everything we find and construct the report from there!”

You nod and hand over the book you’re reading before he arrived, explaining that you found a chapter that could be very helpful. The boy fires up his laptop and starts accessing the website your professor had recommended you to use.

Sat side by side, you and Sungchan study in silence, except for when he asks you to read an article for him and explain what it means. The session lasts for hours, thank God you and him didn’t have classes for the rest of the day, and within those hours of studying with Sungchan, you can’t help but notice the looks you were getting anytime someone passes by the two of you.

It’s no secret that Jung Sungchan is probably one of the most attractive men in the university. He’s tall and has skin that’s as clear as a day in summer, smile that could swoon a lot of people off their feet, broad shoulders that’s probably carrying the entire hockey team for this year’s season—and yes, it doesn’t help the fact that Jung Sungchan is the most popular jock at the moment, apparently for hard carrying the team to win last year’s trophy, ending Seoul National University’s 10-year drought and awakening the school’s love for sports back. And you think it’s quite unfair that people like him exist. Because you would expect that he’s an asshole who doesn’t care about his grades because he’s essentially SNU’s hero at the moment, but he’s not. Jung Sungchan, you learn, takes his degree in Social Sciences very seriously.

And it’s evident with the way his eyebrows are furrowed as he reads the tenth book he found from the shelves.

“I think this part makes more sense now,” he points out, leaning closer so he could show you the article he’s reading. “In residual regimes, welfare-seeking units are primarily family and market. On the other hand, in the institutional welfare regime, the function of providing welfare belongs directly to the state.”

“But countries with different social conditions and lifestyles should have differed in terms of welfare states,” you argue. “We have to consider that the development of industrialization and production growth could be very different from one country to another.”

Sungchan hums. “Good point. Perhaps we can find more of that from Wilensky and Lebaux’s work. Do you have the book over there?”

You nod and hand him the book. Just as Sungchan flips the book open, Mark occupies the seat across you.

“We’ve been calling you,” Mark whispers to you, then turning to look at Sungchan. “Hey, man. Mark. Y/N’s best friend.”

Sungchan gives him a polite nod before going back to the book. You raise an eyebrow at Mark and slip your phone from the pocket of your backpack and find all the missed calls from him, Renjun, and Donghyuck.

“My phone’s been on silent for like, I don’t know, four hours,” you tell him, slipping your phone back to your back. “And I texted you I’d be at the library.”

“Yeah, like four hours ago,” he answers. “I didn’t think you’d really stay here for four hours. Anyway—” Mark pulls out a lunch bag and slides it across the table. “Donghyuck made this for you. He figured you’d be hungry.”

It’s only then that it hit you. The last meal you had was that bagel you had for breakfast on the way to school, which you had seven or eight hours ago.

“My sweet Donghyuckie,” you coo, thankful for his thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Mark. Sungchan and I will share because we’ll be here until we finish at least the structure of the report.”

“It’s getting late though,” Mark points out.

Sungchan clears his throat. “I can drive you home.”

“Great!” Mark exclaims, which earns him multiple shushes from the other students studying. “Sorry. Great!” he says again, in a whisper this time.

Mark bids goodbye to you and offers a handshake to Sungchan, telling him he’ll see him often in the next two weeks or for as long as you and him are paired-up on your major subjects. Sungchan gives him one last assurance you’ll be home safe.

You ask Sungchan to take a break and open the lunch bag. Inside it are two bento boxes full of food, too much for one person, and you don’t take another minute to wait. Sungchan must have been hungry too, because he doesn’t refuse when you offer the other half of your meal to him.

You’re not really sure how much longer you and Sungchan stay in the library, but as soon as you’ve finalized the structure of the report and have agreed on assigned topics, he suggests that you and him go home and meet up again on Friday so you can start assembling the presentation. And as promised, Sungchan drives you home, glad when he realized your apartment is only ten minutes away from his.

It’s already ten in the evening when you reach home. Mark’s probably already sleeping, you think when you don’t see any light peaking from smallest of the small space between his door and the floor. It’s late anyway, and you don’t really have much energy to tell him about your day like you always do. In fact, you don’t even have the energy to shower anymore, and because you don’t like sleeping on your bed with your outside clothes, you opt to sleep on the couch tonight.

The last thing you do is shoot Donghyuck a text message: “The meal was good.”

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

삼각관계 (sam-gak-kwan-gae) – love triangle

Jung Sungchan invites you watch to one of his preliminary games the day after you completed the report with him. Mark teasingly tells you that you have boys wrapped around your finger not even two months living in Seoul. You deny the claims, of course, because Sungchan is nothing but a good friend and you don’t see him as anything more.

Donghyuck is the first person you think of when Sungchan gives you two spare tickets for the game, and you like to think that it’s only because you don’t want Mark teasing you and accusing you of romance all afternoon, and also because Donghyuck has a car and Mark is a shit navigator so you can’t trust him to commute with you from the university to the indoor arena where the game is being held.

SNU’s team wins, of course, and you proudly cheer for Sungchan, which earns you a side eye from Donghyuck. You shrug it off and pretend that you didn’t see.

“Can we go now?” Donghyuck asks, bored, when people start leaving the arena.

You shake your head. “Sungchan asked me to wait for him after the game.”

“You know that barbecue place I told you we’d go to?” Donghyuck reminds. “We can go there—“

Your phone rings. It’s Sungchan. Donghyuck sighs.

“Congratulations, nerd!” is the first thing you tell him. Sungchan thanks you, laughing from the other end of the call, and apologizes that he can no longer meet you because the team’s been hogging him the second they won the round.

“It’s fine,” you assure. “I’m with Donghyuck, anyway. I’ll see you at school?”

“No, no,” Sungchan answers. “There’s a small celebration party at Shotaro’s house. It’s a twenty to thirty-minute drive from your apartment. I’ll send you the location. Go there.”

Sungchan hangs up, and not even a second later, you receive a text from him, a location pinned on the message. You show the message and pout at Donghyuck, and he’s looking at you all bored, rolling his eyes, before nodding and taking your hand so you and him could leave the arena.

The drive to the place takes about an hour from the arena, and you spend it singing along to Michael Jackson’s songs.

“You have a really nice voice,” you comment. Donghyuck laughs.

“Baby,” he says. “I wouldn’t be pursuing a career in music if I had a shitty voice.”

The nickname gives you a flush, and you could only hope Donghyuck wouldn’t notice.

Almost two months into meeting Lee Donghyuck, you find yourself unable to keep your heartbeat down whenever he does things like this—calling you nicknames, randomly showing up in places where you are just to say hi, holding your hand, texting and calling you every day, spending his weekends and times off with you, and doing simple and domestic things for you—and your heart tells you it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with a whirlwind romance in Seoul. Donghyuck doesn’t ever hesitate, and the fact that you’re holding back means you really like him. But the rational part of you says it’s not really a good idea to be in a situationship with someone who will most likely forget you as soon as you go back to Canada, and you can’t afford a heartache from miles away. Besides, Donghyuck probably isn’t that serious with whatever that’s going on.

Rumors say (by rumors, you mean Chenle and Jisung) that Donghyuck is the type of guy who dates one girl after another. Because he’s bold and charming and amiable and likes to expand his choices, and he finds that there’s nothing wrong with dating as long as he doesn’t date multiple women at the same time. You haven’t really seen him out on a date since you had met him. Rumor (Chenle) says that he’s been single since fall of last year and had committed to stay single this year because of the messy breakup and also because he’s on his last year of college, he’d need to focus on stepping up his game if he wants entertainment companies to fight over him as soon as he starts looking for agencies after graduation. Another rumor (Jisung) says he’s rejected many women who have tried to sleep with him since news broke that Lee Donghyuck is newly single. The rumor says he’s as popular as Jung Sungchan when it comes to women, which, if you’re being honest, gives you some kind of pedestal to walk hand-in-hand with him in the university grounds. You realize now that you get the same look from women when you’re with Donghyuck like the stares you got whenever you and Sungchan are stuck in the library for hours of studying.

The only difference is that, well, you like that people stare at you with a hint of jealousy whenever you’re with Donghyuck.

“Why haven’t you invited me to your gigs?” you ask before you could even think about it. “Sungchan’s only been friends with me for like three weeks and he already got me tickets to his game. You, on the other hand…”

The car halts to a slow stop, Donghyuck’s phone telling you that you’ve arrived at your location. Donghyuck doesn’t switch off the engine though. He chuckles licking his lips, then poking his tongue on his cheeks, fucking with your heart and hormones in the process. He keeps his hand on the steering wheel and turns to look at you, eyes hazed in attraction like he’s pulling you in.

“Baby,” he says in a whisper almost. “I don’t like love triangles.”

“Love… triangles?” you repeat.

“Love triangles,” he says in English. “I fucking hate it. And we’re not about to go through that trope in our love story here. So, let me make it clear before we go inside and before you even think about sticking to Sungchan all night.”

You gulp.

“There’s no Sungchan in the equation,” he states like a command and you find yourself nodding, agreeing. “It’s only you and me. Tonight, there will be a lot of people and none of them will be in the equation. Tonight, you’re sticking with me and we’ll talk about this tomorrow. Have fun with me and see if you want to take this to another level, because if you ask me, I’ve been dying to fucking kiss you since the semester began.”

This territory is new, and this Donghyuck is new, too. He’s always been affectionate and he’s never held back, but this new level of honesty is astonishing. Damn attractive if you’re being honest.

“Come here,” he says, ridding himself from his seatbelt. You do the same, leaning closer to him. Donghyuck holds your cheeks with both hands, smiling down at you before leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’m not giving you mixed signals. This is me giving you a clear, direct sign that I like you and I like what we have, but I’d love to take another step. I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t really want someone to enter the equation while I’m trying to woo you.”

You giggle. “You already successfully wooed the romance out of me the second you started holding my hand, Lee Donghyuck. And no, there won’t be love triangles.”

Donghyuck’s honesty fires up some courage in you, and you like the feeling of watching him falter when you lean in, hand on the back of his neck, and kiss him for the first time. The man melts in your kiss and in your touch, but doesn’t wait for another heartbeat to kiss you back. And despite of the bottled-up and eagerness from both sides, the first kiss is soft the first time, featherlike and sweet. His lips are even softer than they look and his lips already look plump as it is, and when Donghyuck licks your lips and invites himself in, God, he makes sure you taste the sweetness from his mouth and in a minute you’re addicted and you kiss and kiss and kiss, lips locking, tongue gliding, breaths gasping.

It’s him who pulls away, leaving you with dazed eyes wanting, wanting, wanting more.

Donghyuck gives you one last kiss on the forehead. “Let’s go.”

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

이렇게? (ireoke) – Like this?

You don’t end up seeing Sungchan at all in the party, and you don’t mind because Donghyuck keeps you glued to his side. The party is fun, but you and Donghyuck decide not to drink a single drop of alcohol. To him, it’s because he has to drive. To you, it’s because you want to be entirely sober to remember whatever happens tonight.

Donghyuck makes out with you in the corner of the living room where people are crumpled, and you like that he doesn’t care that people see. He holds you by the waist and on your neck, and you get it now. You get why women are lining up to sleep with Donghyuck, because if he can kiss like this, what else can he do with his mouth?

You shoot a message to Sungchan with a selfie of you and Donghyuck, thanking him for inviting you to the party and telling him you’ll see him on your next class together (Donghyucks suggests you send Sungchan a picture of you and him making out.) and prompt to leave. Donghyuck says goodbye to a few people he knew, holding you by the waist all the way from the house to where his car is parked.

Donghyuck drives you to his apartment and tells you he’s told Mark you’d be sleeping at his place tonight. The drive itself was intense enough and Donghyuck’s doing an amazing job keeping his cool while you’re practically sweating from the passenger’s seat.

You don’t even get a good look at his apartment when you arrive, because Donghyuck’s already kissing you as he rids himself of his jacket. Donghyuck doesn’t kiss you softly this time; he kisses you like he’s leaving a mark on your mouth, almost like he wants to bruise his presence inside you. He helps you get slip out of your jacket, pulling away quickly to kick his shoes off, before carrying you bridal style and bringing you to his room, kicking the door behind.

Despite the roughness of his kisses, he puts you to bed gently, ridding himself of his shirt and kneeling on the floor so he could help you out of your socks. He leans up once he’s done, one hand on your jaw to pull you down for another kiss, the other caressing your thigh.

“Please tell me this is okay,” he whispers. You nod. “I need your words, baby.”

“Yes, Donghyuck,” you answer, breathless when he starts kissing your neck. “This is okay. Please touch me.”

Donghyuck pushes you a little so half of your body is lying on his bed, your feet flat on his carpeted floor, tugging the loops of your jeans, urging you to lift your hips so he can rid you out of the material. He pulls you back up to take your shirt off from your torso, then he’s helping you back up from the edge of the bed towards the headboard as he crawls on top of you.

“Donghyuck,” you gasp when he goes back to kissing you. You realize that Donghyuck like kissing with the way he’s using his mouth to imprint his presence in you, his tongue licking everywhere it can reach inside your mouth, and he tastes like mint and the soda he had at the party, and he’s everything that you want. “Touch me, please.”

“Like this?” Donghyuck reaches down to rub your clit through the material of your underwear. He rubs slow, teasingly, and kisses you on the mouth when you groan. He dips his head lower and kisses your neck; he bites and nips and sucks and you’re sure it’s leaving a mark you’d have to conceal the next day. “Want me to touch you like this, baby?”

A moan elicits from your throat, and Donghyuck doesn’t waste any more time. He slips his warm hand between your skin and your underwear, really touching you, rubbing your clit gently, his digits dragging itself on your slit slowly, gathering your wetness then going back to rub your clit again, more roughly with the pool of wetness his fingers have now.

“Like this?” he asks again, pushing a finger inside when he finds your hole, urging another moan from your lips.

“Oh my God, Donghyuck,” you gasp when he fingers you gently, your wetness making a sound when he adds another finger. Donghyuck takes his time, biting his lips as he watches you writhe underneath his touch.

“Pull your bra down,” he breathes out, and you do. When your breasts are out on the open, Donghyuck doesn’t waste time and locks lips with your nipple, sucking and licking as he fingers the sanity out of you. He alternates from fingering you with two digits and rubbing you using his thumb, and you’re all putty and messy under him, and you want more, more, more, more.

“Baby, please fuck me,” you beg. “Please, Donghyuck. Please fuck me”

Donghyuck hushes you. “I will, baby. I’ll fuck you so well, you’ll come running back to me tomorrow and the day after, and the day after.”

But he doesn’t. He pulls his fingers out, hold you by your jaw so you could lock eyes while he licks the proof of your attraction to him from his fingers, sucking and showing you just how well he could use his tongue. He doesn’t fuck you get but he rids you of the last garments from your body and does the fucking impossible.

Donghyuck eats you out like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. He swirls his tongue on your clit as he pushes his digits back in your hole, fingering you like it’s all he’s ever wanted, and he’s got you chanting his name like a prayer when his tongue laps your sex, even more when he replaces his fingers with his tongue. You’re writhing and screaming and Donghyuck’s holding your legs apart while he pleasures you with his mouth and hands.

You don’t want to cum yet, but Donghyuck’s so, so good, and it looks like he’s not stopping anytime soon. He tongues you back to your clit and fingers you with three digits, fast and rough.

“Donghyuck, I’m going to—” You see white and stars and you stay still when Donghyuck continues fingering you, moving all three fingers in an upward motion, reaching where you want him the most, mouth sucking your clit as you ride the first orgasm you’ve had in months.

Donghyuck lets you have your moment when it’s done, taking the time to lick the slick wetness from his fingers down to his wrist, kneeling between your legs. You push yourself up so that you’re sitting with your legs wide open, your palms flat on his sheets, head tilted for a kiss. Donghyuck leans over and kisses you again, and you never thought you’d like tasting yourself in his tongue. You guess everything tastes sweeter when it’s in Donghyuck’s mouth.

“Off, please,” you murmur, pulling the loops from his jeans. Donghyuck obeys, removing all pieces of clothing until he’s naked.

You marvel at his beauty, licking your lips when you finally see him bare and clean. His golden skin looks like honey and you want to kiss the fuck out of his collarbones and leave your mark for everyone to see. Your eyes travel from his chest down to the trail from his tummy down to his erect cock. He’s hard and red and you salivate from how big he looks and feel yourself getting even more wet at the thought of him fucking you. Before you know it, you’re reaching out, moving so you could kneel, and taking his hardness in your hand. Donghyuck moans for the first time tonight, and you plan to elicit that sound from him all night.

Stroking him slowly, you feel a rush of satisfaction when Donghyuck pants your name. “Oh my God,” he moans when you bend over, a palm flat on his sheets, your other hand stroking him as you take him to your mouth. He gathers your hair and watches you from above, and you purposely stick your ass up higher when you feel him twitch as you take more of his cock into your mouth. When you’re about halfway, you stroke the rest of what you can’t take and start sucking and licking, and Donghyuck makes the absolute best sound ever. You like his voice when he sings, but you don’t think anything could compare with how he’s whining your name as you suck his dick thoroughly, licking and jerking off whatever your mouth couldn’t fit. A part of you wants to ask Donghyuck to fuck your mouth, bruise your throat with his dick and cum straight down your fucking stomach if he wants to, but that could be arranged next time. This time, with his dick hard and wet from your mouth, you want him to fuck you.

You suck him one last time before you pull away, a string of your saliva following when you look up at Donghyuck. “Now, will you fuck me?”

Donghyuck looks fucked out, eyes dazed with lust, and you want nothing more than for him to ruin you. And Donghyuck doesn’t need to be asked twice.

He crawls back up until you’re lying on your back, legs wide open for him, and kneels between your legs. “Ready and sure?” he asks for the last time, stroking himself.

“Pull out when you cum,” is all you say and Donghyuck goes for it. He gives you a kiss and rests one of his forearms beside your arm, massaging the head of his cock on your opening until he’s stretching you out.

“Fuck,” Donghyuck groans when he feels your tightness. “God damn, Y/N, when was the last time you got fucked?”

“I—I can’t remember,” you say. “None of them were worth remembering.”

“And me?” Donghyuck asks as he pushes deeper until he’s fully stretched you and his pelvis is leaning against your clit. “Will you remember me?”

“Ask me next time,” you breathe out. “I think you’ll have to fuck me every day so I can remember.”

Donghyuck gives you some time, kissing you softly. “When was the last time you fucked anyone?” you ask in return.

“I can’t remember,” he parrots. “None of them were worth remembering. All I know is that this is the first time I’m feeling someone raw.” Then he bottoms out, gives you only half a second before he’s thrusting back and out and back and out and back and out, slowly but surely fucking you well.

Donghyuck fucks you like he means it. His hips snap roughly but makes sure you feel all of him before he thrusts out and he’s everywhere. His tongue is in your mouth, then on your neck, his free hand is caressing one of your breasts, playing with your nipples, and he’s making you feel so, so good and you’re not sure how you go back from here. You’re not sure how you could go on with life knowing how well Donghyuck can fuck you. He’s got you squirming and reaching your second orgasm only minutes into fucking the life out of you.

When you’re close, Donghyuck pushes himself up so that he’s kneeling again, and lifts both your legs, resting your calves on either side of his shoulders, hugging your legs so he can fuck you deeper in this angle. The precision makes you chant his name over and over again and he takes one of his hands down to rub your clit. You try your best to hold back from cumming because the way he’s fucking you now feels so damn good that you want it to last for a long time. He thrusts in and out quickly, his balls hitting the bottom of your ass again and again.

“Come for me, baby,” he says. “Let go.”

So, you do, and Donghyuck keeps on fucking you through it. Donghyuck lets you finish, before he’s pushing the back of your knees down so your thighs are pressed up against your stomach, chasing his own orgasm, and fucks you hard, without rhythm, until he is moaning your name like praise and he’s pulling out so he could release on your stomach. You reach up to caress his cheek as you watch him in awe as he finishes, his face contorted in pleasure, lips wet and eyes closed.

When it’s done, Donghyuck kisses you on the forehead and helps you clean up. He leaves to go to the bathroom for a minute to grab a warm, wet towel, cleaning your stomach, and carries you back to the bathroom with him. The shower is warm, and Donghyuck is gentle and sweet when he cleans you up, giving you kisses when he pats you dry once he’s gotten rid of the shampoo and body wash from your hair and skin. Donghyuck tells you there’s a spare toothbrush on behind the mirror and washes himself as you brush your teeth, naked but warm.

Donghyuck tells you to that the right side of his closet is where you can find the clothes he uses at home and you follow as he finishes cleaning himself up. You take the liberty to take one of his shirts that are still too big for you despite Donghyuck’s frame and slip a pair of cotton shorts.

Donghyuck finds you half-asleep when he’s done showering; he sleeps shirtless, you reckon, because he crawls to bed only in sweatpants. He cuddles you from behind, kissing the clothed shoulder, and the last thing you hear before you drift off to sleep is him humming a song your mind can’t recognize and a promise that you’ll talk about this the next day.

You wake up to the smell of Spam, an empty space beside yours, and the sound of Donghyuck singing a song from BOL4, which you learned is one of his favorite musicians.

Donghyuck smiles warmly at you when you find him in the kitchen, just about to finish pan-frying the last piece of sliced luncheon meat. He’s still shirtless, but is wearing a cute pink apron, and he gives you a quick kiss on the lips like it’s the most natural thing ever. The second his lips pull away from yours, you reach up and touch where he kissed, lips tingling—in disbelief that what happened last night is real.

“Good morning,” he hums. “Just in time for breakfast.”

“Donghyuck,” you trail off. “Can we talk first?”

Donghyuck nods, offering that you sit on the high stool across the small kitchen island. He sits next to you, turning the seat so that you’re face to face, knees touching. “What do we want to do?” he asks.

“You know I’m leaving in like, four months, right?” you start.

Donghyuck whistles. “We just started and you’re already breaking up with me?”

“No, no,” you say, exhaling. “This… this. I like. You. I like.”

“Baby, construct your sentences properly,” he laughs.

“I like you,” you confess. “And I like this. I like holding your hands. And kissing you. And what we did last night. I’m just worried because—”

“Because you’re leaving,” he finishes for you. “I know, but I also like you a lot. More than you probably think. And I don’t want to miss my chance getting to know you more just because you’re leaving in a few months. I don’t know what you want, but here’s what I want, you let me know if it works for you, if not, then I’ll still be a friend. Who might cry for two weeks straight if you reject me.”

You laugh but urge him to continue.

“I want to date you, and get to know you even more. Your quirks, the things that make you angry, your comfort food, the movies that give you the ick,” he continues. “Your family, how you were raised, if you like Marvel or DC more, what Hogwarts house you belong to, if you like pineapple in pizza or not, whether you pour milk or cereal first, if you ever kissed Mark Lee, if Mark Lee’s ever had a crush on you.”

“What does Mark have—”

“Shh,” he stops. “It’s my turn. Talk later. Anyway, I want this—” he gestures the space between you and him. “And I want you. I want to keep teaching you the language and I know what’s ahead of us is scary, and there’s only two things that could happen: this is going to be either the biggest heartbreak of my life or you’re going to be the greatest love of my life. It’s a fifty-fifty chance, Y/N. Let’s just say I’m willing to risk whatever if it means I have 50% the chances of having you as the greatest love of my life.”

Oh. You don’t realize you’re staring quietly until Donghyuck holds your hand.

“Now tell me,” he asks slowly. “What do you want?”

You don’t hesitate. “I want you, Lee Donghyuck.”

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

일어날 수 있는 최악의 상황은 무엇입니까? il-eonal su issneun choeag-ui sanghwang-eun mueos-ibnikka? What’s the worst that could happen?It doesn’t come out as a surprise to anyone when you and Donghyuck arrive at Arcade holding hands, a shy smile playing on your lips, a proud one in Donghyuck’s. You were thankful that there were no teasing remarks coming from your friends—that they were taking this so well, like it’s normal. Like it’s meant to happen anyway. There’s a knowing smirk on Mark’s stupid face, but you love him and you can’t wait to tell him all about how you feel towards Donghyuck. “Okay, so my birthday falls on a weekend,” Jeno announces. “And I think it’s the best time to go to the amusement park. Will you have work then, Renjun-ah?”

“Most likely,” Renjun answers, mouth full of food as he chews on a bite of pizza. “But I can have Yerim cover for me. I’ll just return the favor if she needs me one day.”

“Sweet!” Jeno exclaims. “So, it’s decided then. We’ll go to the amusement park on my birthday.”

As you and Donghyuck play footsie under the table, Mark stands, turning to you. “I’m going to get another milkshake. Come with me?”

You nod, kicking Donghyuck one last time and standing to follow your best friend. Somehow, you feel bad for not saying anything about your growing feelings for Donghyuck, considering that Mark is your best friend in the entire universe and you’re his. If it were him, he would’ve told you the second he caught feelings to anyone. But Mark knows you’re not the kind to admit feelings like this as soon as it starts inflating in your chest; he knows you’re the type to hold it in until you can’t anymore. Having had terrible relationships in the past, Mark has always known that you’re the kind to be careful.

“I didn’t think you’d actually go for it,” Mark says as soon as you and him are out of earshot. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy for you. I just didn’t expect this to happen so quickly.”

“Me neither,” you mumble under your breath. “Sorry for not saying anything.”

Mark chuckles. “You didn’t have to. I mean, we all kinda always known this would happen. I just couldn’t imagine how you and Donghyuck sealed it so quickly, like considering how shy and quiet you always were whenever he was around.”

“I was shy and quiet with everyone around,” you remark. “Donghyuck taught me all these slangs and now I can’t stop talking.”

The woman in the counter asks you what she can help you with when you reach her. Mark tells his order alongside some sides Renjun had asked him to get. He leans on the counter, turning back to you. “Anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re serious serious.” Mark clears his throat. “Like, I’ve known you for so long and you’ve always been hesitant to do shit. I’ve always been the spontaneous and reckless one between us, and you’re the careful one. The one who thinks everything through before deciding on it—this trip to Seoul included on the long list.”

“Your point is?” you ask, even though you know exactly where this is going.

Mark licks his lips before continuing: “What I’m saying is, you’ve never been this certain so quickly.”

That’s right. Not to be cliché or whatever, but this is normally how it goes for you. Relationships used to be difficult for you—from the pining to the confession to its climax to its end, until the bargaining and acceptance—and you’d never been the type to go through things so quickly and easily. With Donghyuck, you’d somehow done it backwards (and Mark doesn’t need to know that you slept with Donghyuck before you even sealed the damn relationship) but for some reason, you had forgotten how you’re supposed to act around people you like romantically. It scares the shit out of you, the connection between you and Donghyuck, but you’ve always been a firm believer that if it doesn’t scare you, it probably isn’t something worth doing. It feels like jumping from a cliff, to the bottom of the unknown, and it’s new, but it makes your heart pound like never before.

“I don’t want to get ahead and say something that’d make you change your mind somehow, because I also like you and Donghyuck together,” he explains when you only stare at him. “But, as your best friend, with the best intentions only, please don’t go breaking your heart before we leave, yeah?”

You nod, understanding and appreciating Mark’s sentiment. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Mark shrugs. “We won’t really know. Take care, yeah?”

You smile stepping closer to hug Mark. “I love you, you know that, right?” he asks. You nod, your face buried on his chest. “Good. I’ll beat Donghyuck’s ass if he hurts you in anyway.”

“I sure hope you do,” you reply, just in time for the staff to call Mark’s attention, the tray of his order ready for him.

Donghyuck is pouting when you return, asking why you and Mark took too long because the seat beside him is all cold now. You kiss him on the cheek and tell him Mark just told you he’s beating his ass if you’re hurt in anyway.

“Mark can’t hurt a fly,” Donghyuck remarks. “What makes you think he can hurt me, huh?”

Mark scoffs. “You’ll be the first.”

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

계절과 계절 사이 (gyejeolgwa gyejeol sai) – between seasons

When the seasons start to change—from the rainy, cold spring transition to a warm, sunny summer—you and Donghyuck change, too.

From the euphoric blooming of your relationship—the playful dates, the passionate moments in his bedroom (because ever since Mark adopted that cat, Donghyuck could never stay at your place for longer than an hour), the heart-warming feeling of seeing him waiting for your after your class—to the warm, comfortable attachment stage, you feel like you know Donghyuck in a deeper sense now.

The small notebook he’d given you at the beginning of the term is halfway full, its pages messily scribbled with phrase and sentences you had learned—likewise the memories those words carry—and soon enough you find yourself more comfortable with the language, and eventually with Seoul. You find yourself enjoying, and not in a way that makes you think you’d want to visit again soon.

The journey with Seoul was initially a play to learn the language and its beautiful culture: a detour. A diversion from your plans. A stop while you figure out what you want in life. Your last year in university is supposed to be the year you finally decide what to do next. Visiting Seoul was an opportunity for you to really get to know yourself beyond your comfort zone, to really challenge your capabilities, to learn beyond what your hometown had in store for you.

But these days do not feel like Seoul is a place to visit.

In a way, liberating albeit frightening, you find yourself thinking that perhaps Seoul is a place to build a home in. The home is built from arms that hold you on days when it’s extra cold, your nose red and hands frozen, and its shelter is made from Donghyuck’s warm smile and the assurance of him being there for you. And right now, while you sit closely together at the back of your friend’s car, their obnoxiously loud voices singing to some pop song along the radio, you feel it: home.

Jeno likes the phone case you had customized for him, and he gives you a big, bear hug as soon as he take a peek of what’s inside your present.

“I love you. I literally love you with all my being,” he dramatically says as he squishes you.

“That’s my girlfriend, you idiot,” Donghyuck complains, pulling Jeno’s arms away from you. With the way you three are seated at the back of Renjun’s car, you sitting in between them, it’s uncomfortable and Donghyuck insists on taking part of the little moment you’re having with Jeno.

Jeno whines, “Let me love her. This is the best gift ever!”

Donghyuck ends up puffing air out of his mouth, pouting and leaning back so Jeno could hug you. You’re laughing and Jeno whispers how easily they could make him sulk these days because you’re around.

Mark, who’s sitting on the passenger seat beside Renjun, announces you’ve arrived at the amusement park, just as Jaemin’s car halts to a slow stop behind you.

It’s the first time you’ve ever visited the famous amusement park in Seoul, and Mark looks excited with the way he’s jumping as you line up for the tickets. Donghyuck has his arm around you, taking pictures with his other hand. The rest are chattering, talking about the rides they’d love to try.

The secretly group decides to stick together for the entire day to celebrate Jeno’s day, despite the birthday boy himself telling everyone they can go wherever they want to. You could see how much they really care about one another and they all just hide it in their mean, vile jokes. For example, the man who has his arm wrapped around you likes teasing Jeno like it’s his full-time job, but is hiding a birthday present inside the trunk of Renjun’s car (and would most likely give it before you all head home, act like his best friend’s birthday isn’t that much of a big deal).

Most of the day is spent following Jeno around, whatever ride he wanted to try and your ears ringing because of how loud Donghyuck is screaming. The temperature has gone from freezing cold to warm, the humidity making it a little harder for everybody to move around under the warmth of the sun.

“I never realized how much of a scaredy cat you are, Donghyuckie,” you tease as soon as you walk out of the roller coaster ride. “Not much of a tough guy now, huh?”

Donghyuck whines, “I liked you better when the words you spoke were only yes and no.”

Mark laughs, slapping Donghyuck on the back. “Oh man, that was really good.”

“Yeah?” You rebut. “And I liked you better when you weren’t screaming like a kid.”

Donghyuck smirks, “And I like you better when you’re screaming my name.”

Renjun and Jisung cough in disgust, and Mark just straight up slapped the back of Donghyuck’s head. “You two are disgusting. I can’t believe I live with you, Y/N.”

Donghyuck laughs, turning to you. “It’s pretty hot. Want me to go grab you a can of soda? Ice cold water?”

“Water, please,” you say. Donghyuck nods and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling Chenle with him and walking to the opposite side where a small shop is. In the meantime, the rest of you occupy the benches under a shade, Jeno asking which ride to go next.

Donghyuck and Chenle return in a matter of time, bottles of drinks in their hands. They give everyone their preferred drinks, Donghyuck sitting beside Mark and extending an arm so he could hand you your drink from his side.

“Fucking summer,” Donghyuck curses. “I hate summer.”

Renjun raises an eyebrow. “Suddenly?”

“It’s not even summer yet,” Jaemin points out. “What happened to you? You’ve always been so excited about summer.”

“It’s so hot. I can’t stand this fucking temperature,” Donghyuck mumbles.

Renjun scoffs. “You start planning our summer getaway as early as March.”

“It’s already April and you have nothing yet,” Jisung points out.

“Yeah, what the hell, man. I hate your ridiculous ideas, but we can’t survive summer without you,” Jeno adds, then looks at Mark. “Yo, Mark, what about you? What are you doing this summer?”

You and Mark freeze, looking at each other for a second, before the latter speaks for you both: “We’re, uh, we’re supposed to go home.”

It seems like Jeno didn’t know the weight of his question because he apologizes as soon as he realizes it. The group falls into silence, no one says anything, or perhaps nobody could think of anything to say, not even you or Mark.

With your days in Seoul numbered, you realize now that you haven’t really talked about it—not you and Mark, not you and Donghyuck—and it never really felt real. You had always told yourself you’ll cross the bridge when you get there, and the bridge is nearby.

Donghyuck clears his throat. “The sun’s going to kill me. I think I saw a burger joint that has an air-conditioning system down the corner of that street. Shall we go there?”

Everybody agrees and stand to leave. Donghyuck holds your hand, pulling you close and steals a kiss on your cheek. The gesture makes your heart flutter. Donghyuck is warm, but not in the way the sun is hot right now—in a way that gets you thinking: can this warmth reach Vancouver?

Your skin hurts when the sunlight hits you. You hate summer.

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

 오해 하지마 (ohae hajima) – Don’t misunderstand

Donghyuck had a face that looked like what an artist would draw in a whim—spontaneously—like it was done in a rush, like a portrait from a park done by a street artist, something done with a pencil. Ink stains are harder to wash off, and anyway, figments aren’t mean to last—and he’s almost unrecognizable in this light.

You can’t recognize him on the night of his birthday.

His Mother had gone above and beyond and invited all of their closest relatives and family friends for his 23rd birthday, and it’s also your first time meeting them.

It’s nerve-wracking to say the least, but his Mother smiles at you kindly when she greets you from the entrance of the restaurant they rented for the evening. You could tell his family was wealthy, and it makes sense because Donghyuck got the most bare minimum job he could find, and it’s most likely because he doesn’t need to get one; he probably only got one so he could talk about work, too, just like the rest of his friends.

The birthday party is a surprise and it was Renjun who connected with everyone to make sure they attend here tonight. You had to make up some excuse to Donghyuck when he asked why you can’t join him for dinner with his family tonight and had promised to make it up to him the day after.

You’re sat in the same table as Mark, Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin, a bit far away from Donghyuck’s family’s table, as you wait for the birthday boy, your present sitting on top of the round table. Mark talks about his cat, letting Jaemin watch snippets of his pet from his phone, and Renjun is narrating a story about his “ridiculous and absurd encounter with Liu Yangyang (and you and Jeno can’t pass up the opportunity to tease him about it).

Then, someone comes sit beside Jaemin, the boys gasping when they see her.

Karina is beautiful, and even saying that isn’t enough to describe the woman’s beauty. Soft-spoken and brilliant, Karina naturally allows everyone to gravitate towards her. All, including yourself, are pulled like magnet when she arrived. Jeno introduces you and you allow yourself to throw a quick and inaudible “hello” when she reaches over and asks you how you are.

Donghyuck’s Mother almost screams when she sees Karina, excitement filling up the air as she hugs her and thanks her for attending.

“I wouldn’t miss Hyuckie’s birthday for the world, eommoni,” Karina answers, and before you could ask Renjun how she’s related to Donghyuck, Jisung, who’s seated in another table with Donghyuck’s younger siblings, announces that the birthday man himself has arrived.

Donghyuck enters the hall, surprised and happy when he sees everyone, a dramatic cry leaving his lips as everyone greets him happy birthday. He feigns complaint, whining that he’s no longer eight years old, but hugs his parents anyway.

His parents thank everyone for joining a precious day and celebrating their eldest son’s birthday with them. Donghyuck bows and starts to go around to thank people.

You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he finally reaches your table and he gives you small smile, hugging you quickly before moving on to the next person. You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he goes to Karina, lifting her as he hugs her tightly, and thanking her for being able to come. You don’t recognize Donghyuck when his Mother joins the little reunion and he laughs when his Mother jokes about them missing each other too much.

“She’s the one who left me all alone here in Seoul,” Donghyuck pouts. “We wouldn’t have missed each other this much if you had stayed!”

“Don’t be such a drama queen, Hyuckie,” Karina says, rolling her eyes. “You visited me in Tokyo literally six months ago.”

Six months ago, which means, it was right before you arrived in Seoul.

You want to be anywhere else but here, and you don’t want to listen any further, but the scenario runs like a comedy show and the punch line is you.

“You two better decide whatever the hell you want to do with your lives by the end of the year,” Donghyuck’s Mother comments. “I mean, no one’s stopping you from moving to Tokyo, Donghyuck. You and Karina can rekindle whatever light was burnt last year. I’m glad you stayed best of friends despite the long distance. You’ve always made a great couple.”

Your breath hitches like your lungs had just been punch. Donghyuck, it seems, finally remembers you’re watching this unfold. Mark holds you, and bless him because your legs feel like they’re about to give up. You and Donghyuck make eye contact, but you don’t recognize him at all.

“Eomma,” Donghyuck clears his throat. Everything else he’s said come out like a blur, and Mark is just holding you close.

“Don’t misunderstand,” Renjun whispers closely. “They’re just friends.”

You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he watches you leave.

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

천천히 말씀해 주세요 (chun-chun-hee mal-sseum-heh ju-seh-yo)  - Please speak slowly | 집 (jib) - home

Karina turns out to be the one that got away. The one true love. The greatest love. The childhood best friend who’s always been there. The leading woman. She turns out to be the protagonist in Donghyuck’s story.

You learn all of these from Renjun. Even when he refused to say a single word and had begged for you to talk to Donghyuck instead, you learn the truth by asking Mark to ask Renjun.

Donghyuck and Karina. Karina and Donghyuck. Two peas in a pod. A tight knit. Knowing each other like the back of their hands. A buy one, get one kind of deal. Where one is, the other would follow. And everyone and their moms know that it has always been like that, will always be like that.

Donghyuck and Karina, born on the same year, grew up in the same small village in Jeju island. Having been inseparable since, they ended up moving to Seoul together in high school. Donghyuck’s parents were supportive of Donghyuck pursuing a career in music, and they believed that moving to Seoul was the first step for their beloved son to find his spotlight. Karina’s parents, however, couldn’t afford moving alongside the Lee family despite wanting to support their daughter, too. Donghyuck begged his parents to have Karina move in with them so her parents would only worry about paying her tuition and allowances. The Lee family agreed, of course, because Donghyuck and Karina were fifteen, and they were the best team the world has ever known.

Karina is a talented dancer, and with a face like hers, it would be a shame to keep her in a small town in Jeju island. Her moving to Seoul had been the first step to her early success, because as soon as she reached puberty and had gained a butt and a pair of breasts, agencies were scouting her, creepily waiting for her outside of hers and Donghyuck’s high school. She’d declined, of course, with a promise to Donghyuck that they’d go to stardom together, but Donghyuck wanted to study and make music, and he felt as though he needed to go to college for that.

Karina eventually moved to another dormitory when she started training. Donghyuck moved downtown to start college. They were in different places, but they were still inseparable.

Pretty much every day Donghyuck would meet up with Karina when she started training; if not, then he’d be on Facetime with her during the hours when she’s not working. He had brought her to SNU many times, and they had started dating by the time Donghyuck is in his second year. All the other guys know Karina and her place in Donghyuck’s life. Somehow, a bitter part of you feels betrayed that none of them ever mentioned about Donghyuck’s great love, but you can’t really blame them for not saying anything.

They broke up on the latter months of last year because Karina had to move to Tokyo. There was no big fight apparently, just the decision that it’s most likely not going to work because—listen to this; this is the biggest punch line of this comedy show—Donghyuck can’t handle long distance.

You had answered one of Donghyuck’s calls by mistake. He’s mad for some reason, perhaps angry of the fact that you’re ignoring him and he doesn’t have much control like he normally does.

“Y/N, for fuck’s sake, why haven’t you answered?” he had cried out as soon as you answered.

“I was busy,” was all you could come up with. You brain had not been working good enough to translate things to Korean.

“What do you mean you were busy?” he had asked, voice loud and angry. “You literally disappeared on me! On my fucking birthday! And I’m done playing nice and cool because this is unfair. Whatever the fuck you’re doing is unfair you’re not letting me in. If you could just let me explain, things—”

“Please speak slowly.”

“—would be easier for the two of us. Whatever Karina and I had, it’s been over since last year. It’s over way before I met you. I never thought of her, not even for a goddamn second since we got together. I wouldn’t fucking betray you like that—”

“I can’t understand you.”

“—and I can’t believe you don’t trust me enough to let me at least tell you what happened! I never mentioned her because I never even thought about her! My Mother doesn’t know anything! I’ve wanted you to meet my Mother for a long time, but given our situation, a fucking time bomb ticking, I didn’t know if it was too early to go to that stage.”

“Time bomb?” you had asked, repeating the syllables slowly. “What’s that?”

Donghyuck sighed on the other line. “The thing that explodes at a predetermined time.”

“Oh, a time bomb,” you asked in English, chuckling. “That, we are.”

“Huh?”

“We’re a fucking time bomb,” you said, again in English, because if Donghyuck could keep talking in his mother tongue without considering if you’d understand a single word, so could you. “We’re ticking and we’re just waiting for this shit to explode. And I can’t wait and watch myself burn, Donghyuck. I can’t.”

“Please speak slowly,” he pleaded in Korean. You don’t.

“This isn’t going to work,” you responded, still in your mother tongue. “Maybe this is a clear sign for us, Donghyuck. Goodbye.”

Mark finds you crying on floor of your living, your back leaning on the feet of the couch, two weeks after Donghyuck’s birthday.

The first week, you had convinced your friends you were fine and that you just needed time. Donghyuck’s been reaching out to everybody, and Mark, being the best friend he is, lies regarding your whereabouts every time Donghyuck visits.

You don’t know how many calls Donghyuck had tried to make and how many text messages he’d left because you had completely abandoned your phone for the last couple of weeks and only relied on your computer to check any e-mails from your professors.

“I’m sorry,” Mark says, and you feel a rush of relief when he talks to you in English. You’ve had enough of Korean and Korean men these days. “It sucks, man. I don’t even know what to say. I’m so fucking disappointed with Donghyuck.”

“Shouldn’t you be more disappointed with me?” you sniffle. “I should have listened to you. We were moving too fast.”

Mark shakes his head, pulling you closer so that your head is resting on his shoulder. “I couldn’t blame you. Donghyuck’s charming, and I genuinely thought he was in love with you. I mean, I could say is, because I really think he’s sorry about everything.”

“We didn’t even get to properly break up,” you cry. “Our flight back home is in like, two weeks. I was supposed to talk to him and decide what we’d do with our relationship. For his birthday, I made a stupid mixtape that he could keep in his car and a very expensive and fucking cheesy set of touch lamps I found online for whenever he would miss me. And I keep making stupid letters like a fucking idiot so I could leave him with a bunch of poorly constructed letters just so he knows how much I’ll fucking miss him.”

Mark stays silent as you sob your heart out.

“And can you believe I actually thought it’d work?” you say, exasperated. “I’m so fucking sorry to myself. I’m just glad it’s over before I did shit I’d regret later on.””

“Shit like?” Mark asks.

You sigh, sniffling and screaming internally because the tears would stop. “I was already looking into internships here. For my last semester in college. I had already decided to decline the internship they were offering back home—thank God I haven’t sent that e-mail from my drafts—and I’ve found really good companies here. And if I’m lucky, I was thinking of moving here after college.”

Mark clicks his tongue. “All because of Donghyuck?”

“Because he feels like home, Mark,” you reason out. “He’s warm, and I can’t believe I’m admitting this now, but I love him. I love him so fucking much.”

“Oh, Y/N.”

“And we would have been happy. I would’ve done everything I could,” you confess. “And this fucking language barrier will be the death of me, but I would’ve learned more. I’d be an expert by the end of the year. And now, this whole Karina thing made me realize how much more I need to know about him.”

Mark holds you closer as though holding you would make things better. “When we were kids,” he starts. “Whenever I told you stories about how much I miss all the people I had to leave behind whenever we had to move from one country to another, one state to another, you’d always tell me to never build houses out of people.”

You remember. You always admired how Mark could move from one place to another, his suitcase and the ghost of the friendships he made following his trail, and he’s always told you about the loneliness it comes with.

“You used to tell me shelters aren’t supposed to be made of arms wrapped around you on a cold night, or hands that hold you when you’re feeling lonely,” he continues. “And I can’t blame you, because humans are known not to follow their own advice. But I hope you find home in things you’d never lose.”

You nod. “I’m sorry for breaking rule number three.”

“You’ll get over him,” he assures. “If you decide to really end things here, I mean. I’m sure you can get over him. It’s easier to get over people when you don’t see him.”

You nod, “Let’s go home, Mark.”

“Back home?”

You smile. “Yes. Back home.”

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

갈망 (galmang) - longing

It’s Giselle who picks you up from the airport.

You reunite like old friends, but Giselle really didn’t change that much. Even the weather didn’t change much. The same old. You wish you could say the same to yourself.

The flight to Vancouver was the most painful ten hours of your life, both literally and figuratively. It was hard watching your friends bid you goodbye, and you could tell they were dreading your departure as much as you and Mark were. Mark assures them you and him would save up to visit them again this year and as much as you’d wanted to stay, your student visa would allow you only six months. Mark promises he’d work on a tourist visa or whatever because despite being 100% ethnically Korean, but legally, he can’t just visit whenever he wants.

The pain from your breakup with Donghyuck is nothing compared to seeing Mark leave his friends again. You know how much they mean to him, and by extension, how much they mean to you regardless of what happened before your departure.

The head of student exchange program sends you warm greetings through text, followed by a series of messages from your friends and family. You’re glad Giselle had decided to pick you up from the airport, because you don’t think you’re in a good state to pretend like you’re okay, and Giselle knows.

Of course, she knows.

Giselle’s been your anchor during your last weeks in Seoul. Mark reckons that if anyone would understand you best during this time, it would be Giselle. After all, she’d gone through the same thing.

Like Mark, Giselle moved to Seoul with her parents for a few years. She had a similar experience with Mark, considering that her parents are constantly moving around—from Japan to South Korea then to Vancouver. Giselle was only in Seoul for two years before her parents moved back to Vancouver again, and in between those years she had met Kevin Moon, the love of her life.

They have been dating for almost four years now, two of those years, they dated long distance.

“How’d you make it work?” you had asked Giselle over Facetime once.

“It wasn’t perfect,” she admitted. “We broke up a couple of time because it was really difficult. And neither of us were willing to move for each other. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Kevin and I, we love each other. Truly we do. But I wouldn’t want to plant my entire life in Seoul for him. In the same manner, I don’t want him to move from Seoul to Vancouver for me when we both know for a fact that he’d be more successful in Korea than here. I guess, I don’t know, I don’t have an advice I could give you.”

“I’m not asking for advice,” you denied. “I mean. Donghyuck and I have only been dating for like, two weeks. I wouldn’t think that far at this time.”

Giselle had laughed at the other end of the line. “Let me tell you one thing, though.”

“Mhm.”

“It’s all a matter of choice,” she had said slowly, like she wanted to imprint the words to your brain. “Your heart isn’t made of diamonds. Your lungs aren’t made of steel. Somehow, inevitably, you’d grow tired—tired of timezones and how you never get the timing right, tired of not having someone to hug when you need it, tired of having to compromise—and it’s not an easy game.”

Giselle was smiling when she’d said the rest: “But Kevin is so worth it. I’ll grow tired of the baggage long distance comes with, but I don’t think I could live without him, you know? And it’s exaggerated, I know, and neither of us know what the future holds, but we’re choosing us. We chose to stay.”

It would have been beautiful, you think, if things worked out between you and Donghyuck. You would have written poems and prose in places about how you chose to stay. You would have learned about time zones and the best time to call, could have learned how to purchase the cheapest flight tickets to see each other, would have learned love and compromise together.

But you’re here, back in Vancouver, the voices of Mark and Giselle all blurred out from the backseat, and all you could think of is how much you miss Donghyuck.

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

예기치 않은 (yegichi anh-eun) - unexpected

The head of the student exchange program asks you to write an article about your experience in Seoul and gives you until the fall semester begins, just in time for the university’s own publishing house to produce this year’s school paper. You’re stuck at two hundred words and a stupid title Mark came up with: “Learning Languages”—and you’re thinking about withdrawing from that spot in the newspaper but Mark keeps calling you a heartbroken loser and you’re not about to let Mark Lee get the last word.

You’re eating cereal and watching an episode of Suits to prepare to write again (yes, a 30-minute preparation time is needed for such task) when someone knocks at your door.

You know how, in movies, the main character would see things in slow motion as soon as the love of their life enters the scene? That’s exactly what happens when you open the door and find Lee Donghyuck standing outside your dorm room, a too-large for his body backpack on one shoulder and his heart upon his sleeve.

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

미안해 (mianhae) – I’m sorry | 사랑해 (saranghae) – I love you

“I’m sorry,” are the first words that Lee Donghyuck comes up with, and truthfully are the words you needed to hear from him. He says it in his mother tongue and you feel his heart in his voice.

“Mark?” you ask, knowing full well it’s Mark who helped him.

“Yes but no,” he answers. “He said he’d only give me your address but he’s not picking me up or helping me. My flight landed literally six hours ago and I’ve been looking for you since.”

Donghyuck sits across you on the small table you own inside your small room. His backpack is sitting on his feet and his shoulders are slumped. Donghyuck allows himself to look small compared to all the times you were with him.

“Y-you look good,” he comments, eyes glued on you. “I’m glad you’re healthy, at least.”

“You, too,” you mumble. “Tea? Coffee?”

“Water would be fine, please and thank you.” You reach over to hand him a bottle. “And who are you kidding? I look awful.”

He does. He looks exactly what he said he had done to get here. Look for you for six hours after a ten-hour flight from Incheon. Donghyuck downs the bottle of water. Poor guy probably hasn’t eaten.

“Why are you here, Donghyuck?” you ask as soon as he’s done drinking.

Donghyuck clears his throat. “I don’t really know what I want out of this trip.”

You keep your arms crossed over your chest.

“And I’m not about to beg you to take me back,” he continues. “I just wanted to explain. I just want you to know what happened. I can live without you, but I can’t live with you thinking I had betrayed you.”

“Donghyuck, there’s really no need to explain. Renjun has told Mark all I needed to know.”

“No, let me say it please. I spent a fortune to come here, and I’m going to make you listen if it’s the last thing I’d do. After this, I’ll leave. I have a ticket back home tomorrow, and I’ll leave.”

Ridiculous. Who would spend a fortune on a set of roundtrip tickets only to leave a day after? Of course, only Lee Donghyuck.

“Karina and I go way back,” he says. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. And she’s not someone I could just get rid of just because our relationship didn’t work out. We’re better off as friends, and that’s a fact we had come to learn when we tried dating. And it was painful, but I couldn’t lose her just because we didn’t know how to date, how to play boyfriend and girlfriend to each other. That’s the first thing I need you to understand.”

“Like I don’t know that already?” you remark sarcastically.

“Karina is a part of me.” Shit’s painful.

“But now like how you are a part of me.”

Oh.

“She’s my best friend, almost like a sister now, and my parents care about her,” he continues. “It was a mistake that we even tried to date just so we could relate to everyone dating everybody. It almost ruined us, and Karina and I, we can’t afford to lose each other just because of that. The person who I am now, part of it is because of Karina. But Y/N, the person I’m about to become, I want it to be because of you.”

He clears his throat again. You look at the bottle of water he finished drinking because you really can’t look at Donghyuck now. Not when he’s vulnerable and out in the open. Not when he’s exactly the way he was when you fell in love with him.

“And I had plans. For the long run,” he says like a promise. “I had started looking up how to get a tourist visa to Canada and how to get you a tourist visa to Korea. I’ve been saving all my allowances and the money I’ve been earning from work so I could book a ticket to Vancouver for the summer and spend it with you. And I was supposed to tell Mom, but I haven’t had the chance yet—that one I have no excuse for. But the timing was off and she met you before I could tell her. She had no idea and she’s genuinely sorry she made it seem like she wanted me to end up with Karina. If she had known I was already in love with someone else, she wouldn’t have said that in front of you. She would have loved you.”

Donghyuck pauses. You look up to see him wiping his tears from his cheeks. “And I’m sorry that the timing didn’t go well for us, but I promise you I had plans. I just didn’t want to spend the rest of your weeks in Seoul thinking about you being gone as soon as the semester is over. I wanted to seize the moments with you and make you—I wanted to make you feel that I love you.”

Your breath hitches. Donghyuck locks eyes with you.

“I love you. I love you and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t,” he confesses, bursting into tears and you do, too. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t try hard enough to make you stay. I’m so sorry that I talked to fast that time I finally got you to answer my call; I should’ve explained more calmly. I’m so sorry that we’re here, in Vancouver, hearts broken. But I love you, and I wish I could say all of these in English if that’s what would make you believe it’s real and it’s true.”

But he doesn’t have to.

“I love you,” you say in your mother tongue before switching to Korean. “I love you. And I know you love me. And I’m so sorry for jumping to conclusions and not trying hard enough. Just like you, I had plans to. For the long run. And I can live without you, too, but I can’t live without you knowing how much I love you.”

Donghyuck giggles through his tears and reaches out both hands to wipe off yours. “Let’s not live without each other.”

It’s him to moves, standing a little, so he could kiss you.

The kiss says everything the language barrier can’t. I love you. I missed you. I’m sorry. This is everything I’ve ever wanted. You are everything I’ve ever wanted.

Donghyuck spends the night tracing your body with his mouth like he’s writing a love song and he needs to taste you first before he could write the first melody. You spend the night underneath Donghyuck’s love, whispering his name like praise, taking, taking, taking everything he’s giving you.

You wake up to arms around you and the love of your life kissing the back of your neck. You and him spend the entire day (or at least, the seven hours he had until he had to take the flight back home) talking about your plans and making a list of thing you have to talk about over the phone, but today, you’re taking him out on a date under the warm, sunny skies of Vancouver.

And you do. You and Donghyuck have the best day ever together. Donghyuck gives you the other pair of the touch lamp you’d given to him as a birthday present—you’d forgotten you left it when you ran off; you were supposed to watch him open it so you could show him how it works—and makes you promise to touch the lamp whenever you missed him. He thanks you for the mixtape and confesses he cries whenever he plays it inside his car. He also gives you your small notebook of learning languages back (because you had dramatically left it to Renjun before you boarded the plane), saying you’d need it again.

Mark refused to come because he wants you and Donghyuck to talk and spend the day creating a game plan to make your relationship work. At the end of the hours you had with him, you don’t come up with a solid game plan.

Because Giselle was right, after all, it all comes down to the choices you make. There was no formula on how a long-distance relationship would work. Neither you nor Donghyuck had survived one, but you knew one thing:

Today, you and Donghyuck choose each other.

It’s only the beginning, it seems.

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

The sun is out and bright when Donghyuck boards the plane.

It’s a lot warmer than the rest of the year, but you don’t really mind.

#this shit was written for me and my language hyperfixation #shall read on the mini roadtrip tomorrow

[faesficfix]

NJM: Bittersweet

Minors DNI or I will send ur internet search history to ur hottest teacher

Pairing: Jaemin x fem reader

Genre: Fluff, crack, smut, university au, pseduo love triangle (reader has the hots for Jeno)

WC: 8k

Summary: Your relationship with strange, mysterious Na Jaemin is nothing but bitter—until you catch him singing along to the Ariana Grande Sweetener World Tour. Now, maybe he could be sweet. Or maybe he’s just that much more psychotic. Or maybe you should blackmail him to get in his roommate’s pants. Yeah, definitely the last one.

Warnings: protected sex, soft dom jaemin, hella praise, dumbification, pussy eating, fingering, way too many physics metaphors, me calling jaemin weird using every literary device known to mankind

♡

Juxtaposition is overrated–and not just as a hackneyed term in every freshman’s first research paper. No, there’s a specific brand of contempt you harbor for all heterogenous pairings: popcorn and ketchup, socks and sandals, sororities and sobriety, you and Jaemin. 

Sure, you didn’t always mind navigating the winding road of tasteful dichotomy. You’re the first to admit that it takes a truly twisted mind to condemn the classic fit of hightops worn with a sundress. And not even Jenny Craig herself could resist the savory saccharine of a frosty-dipped fry. 

But ever since you were paired with brooding, mysterious Na Jaemin as your semester-long project partner, you’ve come to abhor the very notion of contrast. After all, how could someone as sweet as you get along with ever-embittered Jaemin?

Yet here you are, punching in the code to the computer lab for another late-night work session with him. 

You’re a journalism major, and Jaemin’s in photojournalism, which means you bump into him a lot–if the root words of your degrees are anything to go by. You’ve had classes with him before, of course. But it’s just this semester that you’ve been forced to study with him–or perhaps simply study him–in such close proximity. 

Through countless rounds of late-night video editing and a detailed log of every last Jaemin-specific mannerism you’ve encountered, you’ve deduced but one conclusive theory: he’s fucking weird. 

You’re still etching out the intricacies to this hypothesis, naturally. Perhaps the internet conspirators are wrong, and the most life-like artificial intelligence known to man isn’t Mark Zuckerberg, but rather this americano-fueled introvert. Maybe he’s an alien sent to study human behavior in its rawest manifestation: university students. Or he could just be super fucking weird. That’s the working theory at the moment. 

Regardless, even if you aren’t certain of the root cause, you know that he must have some natural inclination toward abnormality. It’s hard to ignore how Jaemin avoids eye contact like HIV can be transmitted through the iris, and maintains an all-black wardrobe as if he’s perpetually attending the funeral of any fun in his life, and insists on drinking coffee so dark you can see the lost souls of his enemies swimming behind a fearful Starbucks mermaid. 

You try to go easy on yourself when it comes to assessing what exactly is wrong with him. Because there’s something about Na Jaemin that precludes any hope for the scientific method. He is an enigma to the most severe degree, lurking in waters polluted with enough strangeness and mystery to frighten even Marco Polo into returning home. So you’ve given up on diving into the nuances of Jaemin’s weirdness for the time being, settling for the easier approach of hating the juxtaposition you two create. 

Which brings you to yet another hell-sourced pairing: Jaemin and Jeno. Because as much as you loathe your video production partner, you think you just might be in love with his roommate. And you aren’t alone, either. 

Lee Jeno is well known for his optimistic charm. He’s got this smile so pretty it has to span all the way to his eyes to reach maximum charm, and a mole just beneath that’s probably a microchipped chick magnet in disguise. He’s a frequent visitor of the campus gym–not it a gym rat way, though–but on a chase for even more eye-smile-inducing endorphins, because Jeno is never not high on life. Put simply, he’s a golden-retriever-boy turned samoyed, and you–among the larger female population–can’t get enough. 

Unfortunately, you’re not here to see Jeno tonight. If only things could be that simple. Instead, you’re forced to parlay with his social anomaly of a roommate, reluctantly opening the computer lab door to embark on another night of awkward silence and palpable disinterest.  

But just when you’re about to wave a white flag in the air and suspend the psychoanalysis of your least favorite subject, Jaemin does the most un-Jaemin thing to have ever been Jaemin-ed. 

Low and behold, Na Jaemin is hypnotically entranced by a video so peculiar it out-weirds even him: a bootleg recording of Ariana Grande’s Sweetener World Tour. What the fuck. 

How did he not hear you come in? Does he know you’re there? Does he want you to see him enraptured by a harmonious euphony of “yuh” and “shee”? Shit, he has headphones on. 

Despite your deep, abiding curiosity about why the fuck Jaemin is watching a pop icon dance atop a pink convertible in the middle of a campus computer lab, you also discover a newfound duty to yank him out of his trance. You would be greatly remiss to let this shit show endure any longer and not–please, for the love of God–make it stop.  

But how exactly do you snap someone out of a ponytail-induced hypnosis? Will a magical song lyric unlock his detained subconscious? Perhaps his affliction with the Ariana Grande Syndrome (referred to as AGS in common medical practice) could be counteracted by playing a Pete Davidson sketch on full blast. 

You don’t have time for that. So you decide a loud noise should suffice in startling him back into the shadows of his dreary demeanor, stomping your foot loudly enough for him to hear. 

On cue, his mouth opens in anticipation, ready to apologize or explain himself, you presume. Eureka! Your scientific genius carries on. 

But no. Dante himself could not have prepared you for what happens next, for Jaemin’s following words carry you through an additional seven rings of hell completely unpredicted by Inferno. 

He begins singing along. 

“I want it. I got it. You like my hair? Gee, thanks, just bought it!” 

What. The. Fuck. 

This has to stop. And there’s only one way to wave your baton and make Jaemin skip the coda to the end of the song–one awful, horribly awkward way. 

You approach him in apprehension, tapping his shoulder like there’s a hidden off switch for this nightmare hidden beneath his hoodie. And surely enough, you seem to have pressed the right button as Jaemin shudders out of his reverie, pressing the spacebar of the computer with a matching spaced-out look. 

When his robotic eyes lock to yours, you just know you’re done for. He’s probably simultaneously simulating ten possible options for your ultimate demise. But his system reset has changed something. His gaze suddenly isn’t that of paralyzed android, but full of–dare you say–emotion. 

It’s with just a flicker of genuine fear in his eyes that he says, “You saw nothing.”

This may seem like a blanket statement to some. But as someone who’s spent months engrossed in Jaemin’s stoic strangeness, you know he’s practically begging for your mercy. And where’s the fun in just giving it to him? 

“Really? I think that was definitely something,” you respond, because you’re not stupid enough to not test Jaemin’s reactivity in a rare moment of scientific breakthrough. 

“Really.” He attempts to replicate his typical composure, but the wires have been crossed somewhere in his mind, and you can still see but a pixel of desperation in his gaze.

“Well, even if I didn’t see something, I definitely heard you–”

“What do you want?” His tone is matter-of-fact as ever, and on a normal day you might be intimidated by its low timbre. But you’ve come to realize Jaemin’s whole peculiarity schtick could very well be a facade, so you continue to rip away at his cloak of apathy. 

“I’m not sure what you mean,” you coyly respond. 

“Look,” he begins. “I can’t have anyone knowing this happened. So what do you want in exchange for your secrecy?”

Na Jaemin offering your deepest desires on a silver–no, gold–platter? Now that’s weird. But how, oh how, are you to spend the token of his despair? This is a currency probably known to very few, and you know you can’t waste it. 

Find out the secret to his dark strangeness? Too arbitrary. There is no right way to ask that: Hey Jaemin, so like, what’s wrong with you?

Get out of the video project? That’s not realistic, either. As much as you commend Jaemin for his artistic eye, leaving the project to him would probably result in montage of black-and-white, Pulp-Fiction-esque, disturbing stills. And that isn’t necessarily something you’re willing to add to your portfolio. 

You take your place in the seat next to him to properly ponder the proposition. What else do you want at the moment? A new pair of high tops. A roommate whose boyfriend doesn’t sleep over every night. An “A” in your news writing course. A plant to keep you company during late-night, academically sourced breakdowns. A date with Jeno– 

Jeno?

Jeno.

“Jeno.”

“What?” 

“Set me up with Jeno.”

“You want me to help you hook up with my roommate?” You’ve never really seen Jaemin wear incredulity before–or any other emotion for that matter. But you think it looks good on him. 

“Yes, those are in fact the words I just told you.” 

The corners of Jaemin’s eyebrows raise in acute exacerbation, and you can’t help but enjoy playing with him. You should have tried entering the experimentation stage of your research much earlier, because there’s a certain sense of pride that washes over you with each crack to his titanium emotional armor. 

“My roommate?” He reiterates. “You have to realize that I live there. Just pick someone else.”

“No.”

“Why?” He whines. Whines. Na Jaemin is whining over the idea of you hooking up with his roommate, the lilt in his voice at the end of word raising high enough to rival an Ariana Grande whistle note–well maybe not that high. And then he pouts. Pouts.

“Because Jeno is the easiest. It doesn’t seem like there’s anything too complicated going on in his head. He’s hot. I’m hot. Why not be hot together?”

“So you want me to set you up with my roommate for the sake of convenience?” His voice has lost just a touch of its previous disbelief. He seems more genuine now, like he’s trying to figure out what exactly your dating criteria is. 

“I suppose, yeah. But I prefer the term simplicity–sounds much more enlightened, don’t you think?”

“Sure. But I still don’t know if it’s–”

“Well I could just spend my free time outing you as an Arianator instead.”

Now, his stare is resolute. He seems to have accepted his fate. “Fine.” 

“Perfect.”

“But I can’t just make him magically ask you out for a romantic booty call.” Touche. 

“Then what do you have in mind?”

“Just come over next time we drink or something. It’ll all fall into place if he’s into you.” Jaemin never seemed like the type to believe in fate. Then again, he also never seemed like the type to sing “7 Rings” in a computer lab. 

“Sure. When’s that?”

“Tomorrow.” And with his reversion back to one-worded, off-handed replies, you decide Jaemin has probably grown weary of his five minutes of emotion. You should let him recharge for the rest of the night. 

“Sounds like a plan. Now close the pirated pop princess. We have work to do.”

“Okay.” His words are back to their usual meter, but you swear there’s a hidden spark of excitement in his response. Surely, it’ll catch alight sooner or later, right?

♡

You arrive at Jaemin and Jeno’s at eight the next night, sporting a carefully calculated ensemble of a crop top and ripped jeans–so Jeno knows you have the capacity to slut out, but you aren’t necessarily trying to. But, God, Jeno looks so good that it would take a military-grade chastity belt to keep you from slutting out for him right now. 

Originally, you thought it would be just the three of you. But you came into the alleged “bachelor pad” to find Donghyuck, Renjun, and Mark: three of the pair’s closest confidants. The setting is surprisingly intimate. Even just watching the group of boys discuss something as trivial as the school’s basketball team record or the hottest girl in each of their classes seems unmistakably wrong–like you’ve inadvertently wandered into a behind-the-scenes exclusive of a gender-bent recasting of HBO’s The Sex Lives of College Girls.

What feels more wrong, though, is the fact that Jaemin invited you here. It seems beyond counterintuitive that someone as ostensibly callous and closed-off as him would spontaneously tell you to hang out with his closest friends. You feel like you were mistakenly offered a press pass to the secret lair of the university’s most captivating conspirer. 

But don’t be mistaken. Even if you don’t feel entirely comfortable here, you certainly aren’t going to leave. Not with the way Jeno does a TSA-worthy body scan of you every time you so much as shift in your seat on the couch. Maybe he’ll pat you down if you’re lucky. 

And then he offers you a strawberry Mike’s Hard (the college boy’s equivalent to a bouquet of roses) and smiles at you. You know, that Jeno smile that’s a prismatic arch of elation, his stupid, sparkly eyes curving into the pots of gold at the end of the rainbow. And perhaps you’re being dramatic, but right now, you wish you’d come dressed as a leprechaun instead, because all you want to do is dig in to Jeno. 

Although, your plans are inevitably foiled when the other boys want to actually meet you. God, can’t they tell a blackmail-devised-pseudo-sneaky-link arrangement when they see one?

“So how do you know Jaemin again?” Mark asks. 

“Oh, you know,” you begin, eager to speed-run the small talk and get to the part where you make out with Jeno. “Similar majors. We run into each other all the time.”

“Really? I didn’t think Jae was really friends with any of his program mates,” Jeno responds from beside you. His eyes lock to yours–probably because he is addressing you–but you like to think it’s to focus in on the razor-sharp sexual tension obviously threaded between you.  

Before you can answer, though, Jaemin snags the ball from you. “I mean, friend is kind of a strong–”

“No, we’re super close. Like, so close that it seems pointless to tell people we’re friends. An iconic pair, really. Honestly, how could you not know we’re friends?” Alley-oop. There’s a part of you that feels bad faking Jaemin out, but how are you supposed to hook up with Jeno if his roommate doesn’t even think you’re worth to be friends with?

Jeno is slow to be convinced, though. “Really?” He faces Jaemin for verification.

Jaemin looks at you, a ghost of a grin taunting you. You realize you’ve never seen him wear mischief before, either. And you think it’s your new favorite look. In fact, this side of Jaemin might even be enjoyable. You offer him a hopefully subtle wink, incentivizing his newfound amiability.

“Really,” he confirms. As he takes a long sip from whatever concoction lies in his tumbler, he side-eyes you again, and you can’t help but want to play more with whatever kahoots you two are in.

The thought doesn’t last long when Jeno rests an arm on the sofa behind you. God, men are too easy to manipulate. “Well if Jae thinks you’re cool, then you must be cool.” And he gives you that Jeno smile again, but you’re starting to have more fun engaging in your silent repartee with Jaemin–oh no. 

The boys continue with a standard onslaught of college ice-breakers: Where are you from? What hall do you live in? What’s your body count? (Donghyuck.) Do you have any pets? Any roommate horror stories? Can you help me make a recipe for watermelon jungle juice? (Mark.) Internship plans for the summer? What’s your opinion on the systematic oppression of women in the workforce? (Renjun.) Seriously, what’s your body count? (Donghyuck.)

The interrogation is tense to say the least, the boys striking some sort of good-cop-intrusive-cop balance. But the situation is soothed when Mark puts on a playlist the boys all made together. Wholesome. And “Rich Flex” comes on. Or not.

With each question answered, you gain more confidence in the group’s dynamic–not without the help of the alcohol and Jeno’s touch. He rewards you at the culmination of each round of the interview. 

When you tell them about your hometown, he fully rests his arm on your shoulder.

At “I live off campus, actually,” he lets his thigh press against yours. 

“Probably higher than yours, Hyuck.” And he pulls your shoulders so you rest against him. 

“Hot take: I actually am not a fan of the wage gap.” His other hand moves to your thigh. 

But whatever comes next, your mind is only half there to process. Because before you know it, 21 and Drake fade out into the distance of the scene, leaving ample room for another star to take the living room stage.

Any guesses?

No, not Justin Bieber, but Mark has that cued next–fret not. 

Nope, not Michael Jackson, either. (There was an MJ ban after Hyuck screamed at Jeno for singing “Billie Jean” off key.)

Not even Troye Sivan–Renjun’s affinity for the masterpiece that is “Fools” be damned.

That’s right! It’s Ariana Grande, the very woman who drew out the storyboard of the scene you find yourself in now. And you don’t think much of it at first. Well, you do, but more in that anecdotal, ha-ha-what-an-uncanny-coincidence type of way. 

But the second the first verse of “34 + 35” begins, you realize what you’re witnessing is actually a duet, Jaemin singing along in less-than-perfect harmony to “If I put it quite plainly, just give me them babies.”

What’s worse is that you’re the only one to bat an eye. From the moment Jaemin takes a preparatory breath for his scarring performance, you’re galled by his readiness. (Not that you’ve been watching him this whole time or anything. No, you’re definitely not sick enough to oggle Jaemin while his roommate hangs off your shoulder. Definitely not.)

But no one else seems to care. At all. Is this normal?

You let the song–and Jaemin–continue to test your theory, answering more questions to appease the audience before you. What classes are you taking? Wouldn’t it be sick if I put actual watermelon in the bowl? Come on, at least tell me whether you’ve reached double digits.

By the time the pre-chorus hits, Jaemin has begun bouncing in tandem to the up and down-beats of the bassline, daring to giggle at the particularly corny lines. At “Show me can you keep it up?” he lets out an airy titter. And while singing “know I keep it squeaky,” he lurches forward to rest his head on the table and properly cackle and guffaw like a 16-year-old girl who just had her first taste of pink whitney. 

Still, no one cares. Jeno’s hand creeps higher up your leg, and you’re subjected to do you have a favorite pointillism piece? (Renjun.)

Then it’s the chorus, and Jaemin gets up to dance around the room. There's a subtle sashay when he sings “34,” and an accompanying, clumsy pirouette at each “35.” 

But the rest of the boys pay no mind, more interested in your answer to how can I improve my rizz? (Mark.)

It’s during the second verse that you discover that Jaemin’s dancing wasn’t merely performative. No, his waltz of shame was apparently a preferred method of transportation, leading him to sit behind Renjun. And at first you think he might stop and actually join the conversation. But instead, he wraps his arms around Renjun from behind, kissing him on the cheek with an obnoxious smooching sound to play in lieu of each ad-lib.

Renjun doesn’t even flinch as he asks if you think aliens are real. 

By the second chorus, Jaemin has set his drink down to pull Donghyuck into his lap for a completely nonchalant mid-song snuggle sesh. You peer into the cup, curious as to what concoction of liquor could possibly propel someone to this level of delirium. 99-proof vodka? Lean? A henessy-heroin hybrid?

It’s fucking coffee.

It’s during the bridge that Jaemin has decided to make the song his own. Of course he’s still rapping along with Ari, a muffled “even though I’m wifey you can hit it like a side chick” resonating against the nape of Donghyuck’s neck. But he’s added his own signature flow now, enthusiastically chanting “Sexyyyyy” during the gaps between each measure. 

But before the outro gets a chance to clear the air, you’ve decided that you’ve had enough of this Na Jaemin Original remix. And so, once Donghyuck finally manages to free himself from his friend’s iron clutch of a cuddle, you grab Jaemin by the wrist, leading him to his room as a cacophony of suggestive “Oooooo”s rings from the boys in the background. 

As you and Jaemin stand in the center of his room, he sports a grin so uncharacteristically goofy you think you must have just witnessed a schizophrenic break. Is this his Joker moment? Has brooding, mysterious Na Jaemin finally hit a level of maximum angst, short-circuiting whatever vessel of flesh he currently calls home? Surely, there’s no other way to explain whatever the fuck just happened in the living room. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jaemin’s voice cuts through your thoughts. Right, Jaemin probably doesn’t know that you’ve pulled him in here as a final stage of your scientific research. But then, how exactly do you explain yourself? You still can’t just ask what’s wrong with him. 

And then he makes eye contact with you, and the light in his eyes refracts enough gentleness and warmth you’d think someone painted a constellation of kindness atop whatever film of stoicism was once saran-wrapped around him. He seems to have cracked the makeshift cocoon, and–dare you say–post-metamorphosis Jaemin is so much more real. Ten seconds ago, you would’ve said this pop-crazed, homie-kissing decoy was most likely sent to distract you from your research. But now, with Jaemin looking at you the way a binary star probably looks at its distant counterpart, you think it’s the most genuine expression you’ve ever seen. And you have to tell him the thought that’s been plaguing your mind for months on end.

“You’re so fucking weird, Jaemin,” you explain in a whisper, like raising your voice would cut the cord powering whatever mysterious force gravitates him to you right now. 

Then he laughs at you. Not in the way Jeno would shallowly laugh in flattery at the way you answered each of the boys’ questions. And not in the way Mark seems to cackle at even the bad jokes his friends make. But in his own way. This melodious, Jaemin laugh that sprinkles the tense air with glittering fragments of his true self at each bated breath. “I sort of get that a lot,” he says, grinning like an idiot. “Do you mind elaborating?”

Of course, you do mind. But if Jaemin is shedding a cloak of invisibility from his thoughts, then perhaps you could leave yours at the door, too, for the time being. “Well, normally you’re weird in a dark, mysterious way–like you’re Jughead from Riverdale except you’re even more upset because you lost your hat. But lately, you’re weird in this unnervingly bubbly way–like you just took a shot of battery acid or you’re cosplaying as a… uh… I don’t know, maybe–”

“A kindergarten teacher?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I told you, I get it a lot.” And there’s that Jaemin laugh again, sprinkled with angel dust and lifting you right off your feet. 

But if you have any hope of getting through this conversation, you need to pull yourself back to the floor. “Anyway, I’m just so fucking confused by your clusterfuck of a personality. It was already so hard to figure you out before, and now I have to completely go back to the drawing board for my theories.”  

“Well, theorize no more. The answer is simple.”

A part of you is hesitant to let Jaemin spoil the answers to your investigation. But another part is sick of seeing him as your abnormally large lab rat. Maybe the best way to figure Jaemin out is by actually talking to him. “I’m listening.”

“I’m an ambivert.”

“An ambi-what?”

He takes a seat on his bed, probably anticipating that this’ll be a more lengthy exchange. Then, he pats the space next to him, and you settle both into the seat and the unexpected vulnerability you two have struck. “I’m an extravert and an introvert. I’m chronically shy unless I’m with my favorite people.”

Shy? That was Jaemin being shy? Perhaps you’re prone to overdramatics, but there’s no way mere shyness can turn someone into an honorary member of the Addams family. “Bullshit. You aren’t just shy around me. So what is it about me that unleashes the doldrums of your inner turmoil?”

“I’m telling you I was only all quiet and awkward around you because I was really shy–”

“Then what about me makes you so shy?”

Jaemin’s stupid, starry eyes flicker in mischief, and he smirks with so much skill you’d think there’s an invisible string pulling up the left corner of his mouth. “Let’s turn this table, shall we? What is it about you that is so conducive to shyness?”

“Are you implying that I’m intimidating?”

“I would never!” He mocks a gasp, hand on his chest to sell the act. And you think you’re in the clear until his expression drops to its stoic default. “I’m implying that you’re fucking scary.”

What the fuck? You’re the first to admit that you’ve been a little too observant of Jaemin, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he thought you were just as weird as he is. But scary? “What the fuck about me scares you?”

Jaemin’s invisible marionette string tugs at his lip again, forming that same practiced smirk–like he’s having fun picking apart your personality. How fucking dare he. He invites you into his home, lets you think you have a shot with his friend, and opens up to you just to ridicule you on a completely personal basis. He has some fucking nerve to subject you to a semester of awkwardness and disinterest only to blame you for the uncomfortable dynamic. God, he’s so fucking delusional if he really thinks there’s anything about you that could possibly be–

“I’m scared of how much I like you.”

Oh.

The sun must have gone down again, because those stars are back in Jaemin’s eyes, glittering with so much sureness that you’re certain he must have lost his fucking mind. Schizophrenic break, indeed. There’s no world in which the logic of his argument tracks. “If you like me, then why would you trick me? You acted all embarrassed to be caught watching that Ariana video, but then you just performed your own rendition like it was a ritual component of your nightly routine. Everyone obviously already knows you’re a hardcore stan.”

He coyly rolls his eyes, as if you’ve lost 20 IQ points by falling so far behind in his logic. “I wasn’t trying to keep people from knowing I’m an Arianator. I was trying to keep them from knowing I embarrassed myself in front of the girl I like.”

Oh. 

“Ok, well if you’re so scared of how much you like me, and it makes you so shy, then why is it so easy to talk to me now? You have to admit that this is nothing like how we interact in the lab.”

Jaemin takes this critique to his argument more seriously. He bites his lip and flits his eyes to the corner of the room, searching for some wiggle room in your expert peer feedback. And then he attains palpable clarity. You can practically hear the ding! in the background when he solves your thought experiment. 

“Like I said, I’m able to be myself around my favorite people.”

Oh.

You suddenly realize you’re sitting much closer to Jaemin than when the conversation first began. Come to think of it, with each witty quip you and Jaemin offer one another, you’ve felt tugged closer by some inexplicable, electric force. You don’t even notice you can feel his breath on your face until it stops in anticipation. 

But before you can let the charge surge between you, he flips a switch in the circuit, looking up to you to preface an interruption:

“But I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re here for Jeno, right? You want things to be simple? This is probably way too complicated for you.”

When you garner the courage to meet his gaze, you realize that there’s always been some sort of force guiding you to Jaemin. Call it quantum entanglement, or universal gravitation, or your professor’s partner selection process. But as you find Jaemin’s pining stare, you just know that for as long as you’ve been trying to piece the patchwork of his persona together, he’s been refraining from tearing you apart. 

And then he smiles at you, and you decide that if Jeno’s smile is a rainbow, then Jaemin’s must be the entire electro-magnetic spectrum, radiating enough brilliant ultraviolet rays to burn a hole right through the rational part of your brain. 

Because suddenly you think you could be convinced that there are redeemable juxtapositions in this world. Like coffee and sweetener. Or Ariana Grande in a tech lab. Or Jaemin’s lips on yours. 

What was it Newton said? Every action has its equal opposite reaction? Maybe that could be you and Jaemin: Complementary foils. Perfect opposites. 

Maybe you’ve always found Jaemin so strange because he’s been missing an opposing force to counter his idiosyncrasies. 

Maybe you could weave your oddities through his the way string theory binds together an atom. 

Or maybe you two have some sort of quantum connection, because like two particles born of the same origin, you’re beginning to think that you and Jaemin can understand yourselves best through the inverted images you reflect of one another. 

But right now, your curiosity in him is anything but scientific. Of course he’s still just as (if not more) confusing as before. And you certainly still want to experiment with him—just through different, more hands-on methodology. 

So you decide to put Newton’s third law to the ultimate test, tugging delicately at the string of tension between you two with a simple reply of “I think I’m beginning to prefer my men a little more complicated.”

And sure enough, the friction of your words pulls him forward in an instant, tethering his lips to yours in stable, satiating equilibrium. 

Kissing Jaemin is so different than anyone before. You’re used to boys taking themselves too seriously, thinking some heavy petting and excess tongue is enough to woo a girl. But everything about Jaemin is so light–from how his fingertips graze the side of your neck, leaving a delicate pattern of goosebumps in their wake, to the way you can feel him smiling into the kiss, to the way his long lashes flutter against your cheek in featherlight contentment. 

You’re not left with much time to contemplate his surprising softness, though, when he pulls away to lightly giggle to himself–because only Na Jaemin would refuse to talk to you during a semester-long project, and then laugh in the silent beginnings of your first kiss. 

“Sorry,” he whispers with a stroke to your cheek, still nose to nose with you. “I just never thought this would actually happen.”

And then you’re laughing, too, as you rub your nose against his. “Yeah, I can’t really say that I did, either.”

Jaemin moves to sponge your jaw in kisses until he reaches your ear, deciding to lick lightly at your earlobe until you giggle and pull him back toward your lips. Instead, he leaves a lingering kiss on your cheekbone before mumbling against your skin, “Just needed to hear your laugh again. It’s so fucking pretty.”

Again, you try to kiss him, but he swerves your trajectory at the last second once more, this time, aiming for your neck. As he moves from just under your jaw to your collarbone, his kisses become increasingly heavy. He even dares to tug at your skin with his teeth and suck lightly over your collarbone as he nears the end of his path, earning a poorly stifled gasp from you. 

He’s laughing again, now, face buried in the crook of your neck as a hand makes its way under your shirt. It’s been far too long since you’ve felt a touch so gentle–so delicate, and your body isn’t quite sure how to react at first. The trace of his fingertips on your waist begins to tickle, and you lurch forward, laughing along with him. 

He decides to distract you from the sensation by kissing you on the lips again. And he certainly succeeds. The kiss maintains all its previous softness, but it’s deeper now. You feel those glittering fragments of Jaemin from before entering your bloodstream one by one, leaving you high as a kite on nothing but his lips. Then his hand moves higher, his thumb stroking just under the band of your bralette. You kiss him with more urgency, in a way that begs please let this go further. But apparently Jaemin prefers his encouragement to be a little more verbal. 

With a final peck, he pulls back but a nanometer, only leaving enough room to make sure his words make their way to what little rationality you have left. “Is all of this ok?”

“‘Ok’ is an understatement, Jaem,” you respond while pulling his jaw for his lips to return to their rightful place on yours. But again, Jaemin has chosen the worst moment to become a chatterbox. 

“Then what would be a proper description of how you feel about this? Good? Great?” He teases with that ultraviolet grin. 

“It’s sublime, Jaem, but that’s only if you let it continue.”

“So you want this to continue, then?”

“Does Ariana Grande own the ponytail brand?”

You seem to win this bracket of your repartee, Jaemin lifting you onto the pedestal of his lap in victory. And before you can process how quickly you’ve been repositioned, he lifts your shirt from your body. But even after, he still won’t kiss you, taking off his own hoodie and shirt instead. 

Suddenly, you think you could get used to this whole delayed gratification thing. Because being able to witness Jaemin’s typically hidden physique is beyond worth the wait. 

You trace down his shoulder, to his chest, to his abdomen as Jaemin releases not-so muted groans against your lips. His own hand works in counter of yours, snaking up your waist to knead gently over your chest. The other rests lightly on the small of your back, making sure you remain as close as physically possible. 

Eventually, Jaemin must tire of being the only one with his tiddies out. He pulls your bralette off to marvel at your bare chest. At first, you find his gaze just a touch intimidating, but then he looks back up at you with that starry-eyed smile you’re growing all too fond of, and you know you’re in good hands. 

He kisses down your neck to your chest, leaving barely-there marks where he knows no one else will have the luxury of seeing them. Coaxing him to please keep going, you run a hand through his hair, and he groans again while lightly sucking your nipple into his mouth. The noise ricochets through your chest and runs straight up your throat, leaving you whining at the sensation. 

You instinctively roll your hips against his, and his movements become rougher. He litters you in more marks while making his way to your other breast–these ones darker and deeper than before, letting you study how his desperation becomes more visible as the tide of your hips pushes him past the point of restraint.

Then he latches onto your other nipple, and you practically go limp from the overload of bliss. It’s some sort of vicious cycle, though, because the more you whine, the more he ravages you, using just the right amount of teeth and beginning to palm the front of your core. 

But then he pulls back, and you’re a millisecond away from asking why the hell he would choose now to stop before the wind is completely knocked out of you. Your back hits the mattress in an instant, leaving a grinning Jaemin atop you. 

“Sorry,” he says, smiley and giggly as ever. “I just really need to eat you out.”

And who are you to deny a man in need? So you offer a simple nod with an accompanying smile, and Jaemin follows suit, stripping you of your jeans immediately. 

When he settles between your thighs, he begins by kissing just below your pantyline, leaving soft washes of purples and scarlets as he sucks at the supple flesh of your legs. As you pull at his hair, his impatience grows to rival yours. 

But apparently Jaemin is a perpetual tease. So he continues to lick a wide stripe over your panties, never breaking eye contact with you as he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your head hits the pillow with a cry of “Fuck, Jaem.” And he laughs again at your reactions. Maybe he still is insane. 

After a couple quick pecks to your covered clit, he noses at the bud, and your legs shake from the sudden pressure. He titters once more at your neverending sensitivity while soothing you with a hand on your thigh. He then continues licking over top of your entrance, forming a clear indentation in your panties between your folds. And God, if you’re this close to ecstasy with your panties still on, you can’t even imagine how quickly Jaemin will catapult you to heaven once he takes them off.  

Luckily, you don’t have to wait long as he peels your underwear down your legs. He takes just a second to admire your completely bare form before diving right in with a fervor you didn’t know to be plausible. And Jesus Christ your hypothesis is spot on, because the moment Jaemin latches onto your clit, you swear his mattress transforms into a cloud at the peak of paradise. 

He continues sucking and groaning into your pussy, too lost in the taste to realize you still need more. In fact, judging by the way his hips hump into the comforter, you’d be lucky to find a single logical thought swimming in his brain. Maybe you should help him out. 

“Jaem,” you choke out. “Shit, please. Need more. Need your fingers in me.”

Something switches inside Jaemin as his eyes open once again. He removes his mouth from you to unveil that conniving, alluring smirk. “Yeah? Baby needs more? Need me to take care of you and fill this pretty little pussy until you can’t even think?”

Ok, maybe it’s a good thing Jaemin turned into a chatterbox. But you can’t say the same, too overwhelmed by his sudden dominance to form anything more than a teary whine. 

“Aw, poor thing. I guess you’re already there. Only used my tongue on you and you’re already fucked dumb. Can’t even imagine how stupid you’ll be from my cock.”

Try as you might, you still can’t manage a single word with those eyes boring into you. So you can only offer another pathetic whine, hoping a practiced pout will compensate for your silence. 

And Jaemin laughs at you again, like there’s no sight sweeter than your helpless struggle. “Shhh, it’s okay baby. Don’t want you hurting that pretty little brain by trying to think. Let me help. Give me just one word for how you feel right now.”

Of course, there’s a litany of viable options: frustrated, frazzled, fucking fantastic. But there’s only one way to truly convey what you need right now. 

“Empty,” you croak out. 

And it does the trick, Jaemin pouting in dizzying condescension. “Such a good girl for me,” he says while slipping his middle finger into you. He finds your g-spot with commendable ease, and you moan his name at the pet name coupled with satisfaction. 

“Yeah, pretty? You like being my good girl? Gonna take everything I give you like the pretty little doll you are?” 

Again, you’re galled by the words of the once shy boy, and you can manage nothing more than a nod as he adds another finger. 

“Aw, baby, I know you can’t do much with that cute, stupid little brain right now, but try again for me. Whose little plaything are you?”

It’s beyond difficult to form words as Jaemin hits your g-spot with remarkable precision over, and over, and over. But he’s basically spelled the answer out for you. “Shit–yours, Jaem. I’m–fuck–I’m yours.”

“Good job, pretty baby. So sweet and obedient for me. Just know you’re gonna take my cock so well,” he whispers through a smile before pecking you on the nose. His fingers speed up, and you're so, so close–which he can probably tell by the way your moans climb in pitch as you near your climax. But before you can topple over the edge, he intuitively pulls his hand from you. 

“Sorry, baby,” he consoles you with a comforting kiss on the lips. “Can’t have you cumming on anything but my cock.” He licks up the tracks of a tear on your cheek before leaning back to take off his pants and boxers. 

You reach for his cock, wanting to repay the favor in some sort, but any notion of reciprocity is squandered when he pins your hand to the bed, saying, “No, baby. I’m taking care of you, remember? Just be good and let me fill you up the way you deserve.”

And again, who are you to argue? 

Jaemin quickly rolls on a condom from his bedside table and lines his tip up with your entrance. His dominant facade falters for but a moment as he kisses the tip of your nose, asking, “Ready?”

The whole concept of forming words is still difficult right now, but the moment is so right, that it would be even harder to not answer with instinctual ease, “Yes.”

Jaemin holds both your hands as he pushes into you, groaning at the sensation. Your whine the farther he goes, because just when you think he can’t possibly have anything left to give, he continues to add inch after inch until all you feel is Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin. 

“Shit,” he seethes through a clenched jaw. “So fucking tight, baby. Don’t know how you’re even real.”

Jaemin’s dominance is soft, but his thrusts are anything but. As he rolls into you, you feel like your head travels to another dimension and back with every stroke. Because being with Jaemin–his strength, his rhythm, his attentiveness and care is that good. Otherworldly, even. But it’s hard to explain all that with his cock all but reaching your throat, so you settle for, “Holy fuck, Jaem. Shit–so good.”

“Fuck, I know, baby. You’re taking me like such a good girl.” And then he brings your hand to your lower abdomen to exemplify his point. You can feel the rhythm of his thrusts under your hand, the shape of his cock embedded in your skin. 

And it’s fucking hot of course. But it’s also so grounding–to know that whatever ecstasy you’ve reached isn’t just in your head, but right there in the palm of your hand. And Jaemin must feel the same way if he cares enough to bring your attention to the detail. 

His face drops to the crook of your neck, and his thrusts reach deeper and deeper still. He kneads at your breast while sucking pretty marks into the sensitive skin of your throat. As much as you want to tell him not to leave any hickeys, you also know there’s no point in trying to hide this tryst. 

Perhaps it took you months to realize it, but your and Jaemin’s complete opposition of one another is nothing short of heaven sent. With Jaemin finally encompassing you so completely, you can’t possibly fathom the idea of someone filling in your gaps–quite literally–as flawlessly as he does. Na Jaemin is confusing, and scarily nuanced, and fucking weird, sure. But he also understands your body like he’s known it his whole life. And you can’t help but wonder if your minds might work together in perfect tandem, too.

Even now, with your moans falling in meter with one another, and his hand so perfectly slotted in yours, you can’t ignore how perfectly Jaemin complements you in every facet of the word. And then his lips are finally on yours again, and you swear as your tongues intertwine, some small piece of yours consciences do, too. As he continues drilling into you, the sensory overload becomes so overwhelming that you don’t even notice you’ve reached your climax until he does at the same time, with a muted groan reverberating against your lips. 

He pulls out and throws away the condom. And then he probably cleans you up, and dresses you, and leaves for water or something like that. But to be honest, you have a hard time recollecting the inconsequential details to the aftermath of something as soul-bending as that. 

You aren’t quite sure if you’ve ever believed in soulmates–and you certainly aren’t about to call Jaemin yours after fucking him one time. But you can’t help but think there’s a reason you’ve always been so fascinated by him. Because if Jaemin’s the sun, radiating ultraviolet kindness in the east, then you must be the moon, ready to reflect all his brilliance for the rest of the world to see. If he’s the upbeat to some corny pop song, then you’d be the downbeat if it meant following just behind him in perfect harmony. And if Jaemin’s been waiting the entire semester to tell you he likes you, then of course you’d wait to see just how deeply and profoundly your perfect synchrony can run through one another. 

He returns in a moment, setting a bottle of water down next to you as he takes a final sip from the cup he had earlier. And when he kisses you with that stupid, delirium-inducing, sunshine of a smile, you want to tell him about the underside to every rock of revelation you just turned over in your mind. 

But it’s admittedly hard to tell someone that you have probable cause to think your souls are cosmically conjoined when they taste so strongly of espresso. So when Jaemin wordlessly questions the way you stare at him in something right in between scrutiny and reverence, you cast your new theory aside for the time being, saying, “Sorry, you just taste so bitter,” with a breathless laugh. 

But you think the evidence is pretty conclusive when he responds, “Then it’s a good thing you’re so sweet.”

♡ TL: @matchahyuck @jvjsssnaa @jwinm @byungbyungbaek

#this is quite literally my favourite fanfic ever written #i'm not over exaggerating #like you had me at jaemin singing ari #and then every paragraph was hilarious #like i've never laughed so hard #and jaemin?! perfectly jaemin coded #i love this sm #faves! #nana #jaemin fluff #jaemin smut #fluff #smut

[faesficfix]

when cupids fall | l.dh

genre ꒰ঌ cupid au, friends to lovers (sort of), slowburn, fluff, angst pairings ꒰ঌ angel! donghyuck x angel! reader word count ꒰ঌ  6.6k synopsis ꒰ঌ you’ve never thought of love as something possible for yourself, but it only takes lee donghyuck accidentally drinking an aphrodisiac meant for mortals to change things very, very quickly. warnings ꒰ঌ none info ꒰ঌ  this is a special fic for valentines day!! i hope everyone has a lovely 14th regardless of whether you celebrate or not and i hope that this makes your heart flutter  songs ꒰ঌ angel - chancellor, taeyeon | valentine - laufey | 7pm - bss, peter elias | the perfect pair - beabadoobee | love me 4 me - rina sawayama

You’re tired of love.

Absolutely sick of it, which likely isn’t the best idea when your entire job revolves around matchmaking. There had been a time when the very idea of it made your heart flutter, and the prospect of finding compatible couples made a grin break on your face.

But after close to a century of repeating the same task over and over again, you’re starting to dread the idea of picking up your bow and arrow.

That was purely metaphorical, however, as your old methods had been replaced with more modern ways to accomplish the same task.

Essentially, you had become a heavenly office worker - an absolute nightmare, only made slightly better by the prospect of eventually being released from your job to waste away the rest of your days on whatever you wished.

Keep reading

#MY HEART #WONDERFUL MAGNIFICENT AMAZING GORGEOUS BEAUTIFUL #hyuckie🥺 #haechan fluff #fluff

[faesficfix]

room 119.

genre: jaemin tooth rotting fluff, comfort, established relationship, nonidol!jaemin, suggestive perhaps? college au ofc

note: this is for the anon with the jaemin brainrot hehe... ty for the idea! not proofread but tbh... kinda obsessed with this and yeah it made me incredibly lonely soooo... i hope you enjoy muahaha

you hadn't heard from jaemin all day!

granted, it was still early in the morning, but you trusted him enough to not skip classes again. for the third time. this week.

it's chilly out as you make the short walk to his dorm building across the literature room in which you shared a philosophy class. you assumed he would text you if he was skimping out on lecture, again, but it was radio silence.

you were worried to say the least. it was often that he would skip, but he never, ever was the type of lover to go m.i.a on you.

hiking your backpack tighter on your shoulders, you trudged through the bright orange and yellow leaves. their dull crunching sound under the soles of your shoes are drowned out by the wind blowing past your ears.

finally reaching his dorm room, you roughly knock on the door. sniffling and wiping your nose. annoyed and cheeks red from your 10 minute walk to scold your sleepy boyfriend, you rock back and forth on your feet, a pout evident on your face as you let a couple seconds pass before knocking again.

however your hand never reaches the white wooden door, jaemin swings the door open, bed head on full display as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

your gaze rakes down to his neck and bare torso, following his happy trail all the way to the sweatpants hanging low on his hips, landing your gaze down to his feet clad in cheetah print socks. you look back up at him, letting your eyes linger back on his chest and collarbones.

you both stand at the door way for a while, he's amused at your reaction, no matter how many times you've seen him like this, it never fails to leave you incredibly flustered. and he's so grateful he's the only one who gets to make you feel like this.

"well are you gonna chew me out for skipping or is me being half naked a good enough apology?" he rasps.

too much time passes and he snaps you out of your thoughts with a chuckle, pulling you into his warm apartment by your wrists. his bed was pressed up against the left side of the wall, covered in posters and fairy lights. his room smelled like pumpkin pecan waffles and you couldn't help but let your eyes soften at the framed picture of you on his nightstand.

he has a drawer designated to your chapsticks, lip balms, hair ties, rings, nail polishes and any other trinkets you've left behind any time you visit him.

dragging you over to his bed as he plops on the mattress, tilting his head up to look at you, as you push his bangs back with your palms, he pulls you in from your belt loops, you let your arms hang over his shoulders, pushing his face deeper into your stomach once he rests his forehead on your ribs.

you notice the matching string bracelets you both bought on your first date together, hanging loosely on his wrist, you feel the fraying string as he trails a palm under the back of you shirt.

he feels warmer than the hot packs you had slipped into the pockets of your large jacket.

lifting his head up, he gives you an almost drunk grin. as if though your perfume made him as tipsy as his favorite bottle of peach soju he keeps tucked away in his bright purple mini fridge.

you continue to rake your hands over the hairs at the nape of his neck but stop one he removes your arms from his neck in order to help you slip the coat off your shoulders. standing up for a moment to untie your scarf and tuck his head into the crook of your neck to pepper a few smooches on the exposed skin where your shirt slipped from the friction of your coat being dragged off.

"you okay bunny?" you whisper, worried he skipped class for more than just an extra couple hours of sleep.

"never been better," he says genuinely and you can hear the smile on his face as his breath raises goosebumps near your spine and upper arms.

he sighs as he removes himself, he seems almost annoyed that he has to be apart from you for even a moment, as he helps you slip off your shoes and rests you against his pillows.

once he has you on the mattress he hikes up his sweatpants before tugging you down a bit by your bare ankles. he moves you a bit lower, allowing himself to rest all his weight on your chest, wrapping his buff arms around your hips. immediately closing his eyes and absentmindedly reaching for your arms. once found, he tugs your wrists yet again and not so subtly drapes your left arm over the top of his shoulder blades.

the skin is unbelievably soft and warm, and you can't help but instinctively begin scratching lightly against his thick, broad shoulders, trailing your nails down the middle of his back, reaching towards the band of his boxers.

you feel him deeply exhale, as though he's needed this more than you know, but was too afraid to use words.

his grip around you tightens and you take this as an opportunity to crane you neck down and return the favor of peppering kisses near the top of his spine.

feeling him relax over your body is better than attending art history class for. sure.

#sobbing rn #i want a jaemin rn #nana #jaemin fluff

[faesficfix]

i think i've died. (in the best way possible)

if you ever do decide to take requests can we get bff!jeno smut 😁 pleaseeeeeeee

use me

bff!jeno x (f) reader — unprotected sex, pretty vanilla i know im sorry, jeno is bufffffffff

a/n: this way longer than its supposed to be. my bad. not proofread

Good enough. That were the words you told yourself every time it came down to how satisfied you were with being Jeno’s best friend. It was good enough.

It was a blessing and a curse in itself. Constantly being mistaken as his girlfriend was one thing, but the forbidding glares of women who saw you as a threat and wanted a piece of what they thought you had was another. Even your own friends weren’t entirely convinced the two of you weren’t fucking behind closed doors.

The only thing that made it bearable was Jeno himself. The laughing and chatting incessantly for hours. You would ignore the violent tug in your chest when you noticed him with a fling, because this friendship was too precious to sacrifice over feelings that would surely inevitably die.

Just not as quickly as you would’ve liked.

Besides, none of those flings ever stayed long. Jeno took what he wanted and left before things got messy. You, on the other hand, would always be there to grimace and laugh at the begrimed details.

“For the billionth time, put a shirt on,” you grumbled, exasperated.

Jeno snickered and retorted, “For the billionth time, you’re on my turf. I make the rules and I say I can strip buck naked right now if I want to.”

You grimaced. “Please, don’t.”

Jeno chuckled and after waiting for his character to respawn, focused his attention to his video game. You were supposed to be playing with him, but you told him, “My fingers are going numb.”

That wasn’t exactly true. Though because it was easier to say over admitting you wanted to watch his body while he played, so you simply went with it.

Jeno was built like Hurcules himself. The hell you raised every time he was shirtless was very much a measure you took to hide your state of arousal - and ogle him in peace.

You would never admit you found him unbelievably sexy. Nor that you were head over heels for him. The thought of placing a dent in your friendship terrified you to your very core.

Jeno called your name in a singsong tone and you were grateful to find his eyes trained to the screen when you snapped out of your trance, otherwise he would have caught you staring at his huge, burly arms, tightening with muscle as he maneuvered the controller in his palms.

You took notice of the scoreboard and replied tonelessly, “Yes, loser?”

Jeno - completely unbothered - sang, “Come here.”

You did as told, standing beside him with folded arms. “What do you want?”

“Why do I have to want something?” Jeno asked, smiling but never tearing his eyes from the screen. “I just want you to sit beside me. You know you’re my good luck charm.”

Your heart fluttered. Stand up, you told yourself. But it was pointless. You could already feel the butterflies swarming around in your stomach. They basically lived there rent-free.

You found yourself slumped beside Jeno, fighting to not stare at his abs, chest and biceps. Don’t you fucking dare, you warned yourself sternly. Jeno looped one of his arms around your side, his biceps wrapped at your hip making it impossible to ignore how close you were.

It was like he was trying to see how much you could take before you lost whatever piece of your mind still remained.

A couple moments later, the round was over, and the entire game had been majestically flipped. Jeno took the lead, landing a victory.

“See?” Jeno said, as if he was trying to make a point. “You’re my good luck charm.”

Your cheeks warmed.

Jeno stood up to check his phone, leaning against the couch and immediately groaning.

Your brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, the usual,” Jeno shrugged, slumping back against the chair. But you could tell his mood had shifted. “Just my latest fling. Ex-fling now. I broke things off because she got a boyfriend and I didn’t want shit to get messy, but apparently he can’t fuck and that’s supposed to be my problem.”

“Oh.” That meant Jeno was on the hunt again - and on the market. He preferred to bounce from one girl to another at a time. Your heart twisted viciously, taut with envy.

“Yeah. It’s whatever. My only problem now is that I have to find somebody else, and I have no idea who the major contenders will be.”

“You could…,” you began, but trailed off. You very nearly offered yourself on a silver platter, but something told you it wouldn’t be the wisest idea.

Jeno cocked a brow. “I could?”

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head.

Jeno, ever headstrong was he, would not take no for an answer. “No. Say it. I could what?”

His eyes were looking into yours, staring down your soul. You glanced away, unable to hold the contact. There was a brief pause, and your voice was feeble as you whispered, “You could use me.”

“Huh?” Jeno said, fighting a smirk. “Speak up. I can’t hear you.”

You blurted, “I said, you could use me!”

Jeno snickered and you wanted to become one with the ground out of humiliation. There was no way in hell you sincerely thought you ever had a chance.

You leapt off the couch and grumbled, “Forget it.”

Jeno was hot on your heels. “No, I won’t. Where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

Jeno grabbed your arm and cornered you into a wall, caging you before his bare chest. Your heart was thumping in your chest rapidly, unable to calm down. “Relax. I didn’t even say ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”

“You didn’t have to,” you snarled.

“I’ve been waiting for you to finally admit that you want to fuck me. You know how hard it was to ignore the feeling of you staring at me?” Jeno asked, gripping your hips. Your lips parted in shock, head lifting to meet his eyes. They were ablaze. “Do you want this - yes or no?”

No hesitation. “Yes.”

Jeno grinned, because he knew he had you right where he wanted you.

Jeno’s lips met yours hastily, kissing you roughly. The entire time, you were both stripping on the journey to his bedroom, forgetting to pause for air as you shredded each other of what remained of your clothes.

At one point, you were ceremoniously shoved onto his bed. Your lips parted once more in a prolonged moan, your head angling back as Jeno pressed hot wet kisses to your neck, tugging your shorts and underwear past your ankles. Meanwhile your hands found his firm chest, gliding across his gorgeous skin.

There was no hesitation in the way you reached over to yank his boxers down, desperate and craving a taste. Too much of your time had gone wasted. You wanted Jeno so goddamn badly - more than anything.

His cock was huge and mouth-watering. Jeno had gotten hard from kissing you alone, and unbeknownst to you, all the thoughts and dreams of fucking you that had all returned to him suddenly, slapping him across the face. He had wanted you for some time.

Jeno chuckled at the sight of you gawking and teased, “Like what you see?”

You nodded absentmindedly. God, you knew he was big, but seeing him at maximum potential made you doubt you would even be able to take his size.

“Fuck. I gotta find a condom,” Jeno said, beginning to scout his drawer.

You tilted your head. “Did you wear one with all the other girls?”

“I’m a thot, baby. Not a terrorizer.”

You snickered. That was Jeno’s way of saying ‘yes.’ Needless to say, a bunch of baby Jenos roaming the planet would invoke irreversible fear and panic in anyone.

“I’m on the pill,” you added demurely. “You can go bareback - if you want.”

Jeno whirled around very slowly. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, biting your lip. It was possible that you had never been so sure of anything before.

“Fuck. Say less,” Jeno said, marching over to the bed again and pushing you on your back. His eagerness made you giggle, but it all subsided into a breathy moan once you felt the tip of his dick at your entrance, leisurely dipping between your folds.

Jeno, wary of hurting you, took his sweet time. He was aware that he was big and wanted to ensure you were comfortable, easing his way inside your dripping cunt. Every thrust was deeper than the one before. You sucked in a breath when you were filled to the hilt, swallowing as much of his cock as you could possibly take.

“Oh my God,” you rasped, unable to comprehend how full you were. “You’re so… so big.”

Jeno chuckled. He got that a lot. “Yeah?”

You bobbed your head, eyes rolling back.

Jeno was mere seconds away from losing his grip on his sanity, driving his cock into your pulsing cunt. You were clamped around his girth, nails digging into his biceps to anchor yourself and milking a violent growl from him.

Fuck, you were tight. Too tight, too searing. He could barely fit his whole cock inside your pussy, stuffing you as much as he could without potentially harming you.

“I should have already fucked you,” Jeno grunted, clasping his hands around your hips a little too tightly. Nonetheless, you didn't mind the pain. “I would have kept you around.”

You blinked, wondering if he was serious or if it was just the sex talking. A part of you refused to fathom Jeno possibly reciprocating anything you felt towards him.

Jeno growled, “I could fuck you forever.”

His low tone was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard.

It was sudden when Jeno delivered a smack to your ass, making you yelp. “You feel too good,” he groaned. “Why do you feel so good?”

This was no longer a man. Jeno was shedding his skin and embracing that of a wild, untamed beast. You moaned as his pace quickened, vigorous and unrestrained.

You whimpered, “Jeno…”

“Shh. I know, baby. I know,” he whispered, lips meeting your neck and coating your throat in wet kisses and nibbles.

“Use me,” you moaned, clawing your nails into his biceps even harder. Jeno hissed, but he was unfaltering. It seemed he liked the pain too. You’d both be covered in scratches and bruises by the time you were finished. “Use me, please. Fuck me however you want.”

Jeno chuckled breathlessly. He had every intention of doing exactly as you bade him.

#i kinda want a part 2 just bc i'm a sucker for f2l #jeno #jeno smut #smut

[faesficfix]

cliché boyfriend things.

na jaemin has the most perfect, fool-proof plan to show you—and the rest of the world—just how compatible you two are, and it has a lot to do with cliché boyfriend things.

pairing: na jaemin x female reader genre: rom-com, a smidge of angst, mutual pining; best friends to lovers!au, idiots to lovers!au, college!au wc: 10.0k includes: mild swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of vomiting, na "im not jealous wdym" jaemin, lots of banter, food, so much fluff u might get cavities, user jaemflrt being a simp for na jaemin (lmk if i missed anything!! 🤍) a/n: inspired by episode 9 of the k-drama 'extraordinary attorney woo' where woo youngwoo does nice things to lee junho bc she likes him 🤧

Here’s the thing: Na Jaemin is hopelessly, completely, irrevocably, undeniably in love with you.

It should be a good thing, right? After all, you’re his best friend. The two of you spend virtually all your time together, and all that time spent with you means he should be happy for the simple reason that you’re with him. 

For the most part, he is.

For the least part, he’s not—and it may or may not have a lot to do with his roommate and the nosy gossipmonger who lives right next door.

Maybe asking you to pick up his favourite hoodie from his place while his lecture got extended was a mistake. He should’ve just suffered through his class, but if it wasn’t for Professor Jeong’s tendency to crank up the air conditioning to extremely low temperatures, he wouldn’t have had to ask you in the first place.

That’s when things went to hell. Park Jihoon, the nosy gossipmonger who lives next door, somehow managed to take a picture of you and Jaemin’s roommate, Lee Jeno, standing together at the door. Your faces are angled up to each other, bright smiles on both your lips as you talk about God knows what, and Jaemin’s hoodie is draped across your arm. Jihoon then had the audacity to post the goddamn picture onto the college’s anonymous confession page, with the caption: “Y/N & JENO are dating??? I got this pic of them outside his dorm. Look at the smiles on their faces!!! And Y/N has Jeno’s hoodie with her too!!!”

Utter bullshit, Jaemin thinks. If anyone asked him, he’d let them know that the way you’re smiling in the picture is how you smile all the time.

Besides, it isn’t even Jeno’s hoodie you’re holding.

“Jaemin, are you even listening?”

Jaemin is pulled out of his reverie when you tap his head softly. He turns to look at you, immediately hiding his phone’s screen—which had a tab open of the community post about you and Jeno—and smiling through the guilt he feels seeping through his skin. “Yeah. Um. You were talking about the ripple effect caused when a single person taps the brakes on their car on a highway, right?”

The two of you are in Jaemin’s dorm. Jeno is out with another friend of his, and you both have the place to yourselves. You sit cross-legged on the floor, Jaemin occupying the place next to you and leaning back on one of his bed’s legs. Notes and sheets of paper are spread out in front of you both. You’re in the middle of planning the outline for one of your important projects of the semester, and Jaemin, being your best friend, is helping you out (read: annoying the hell out of you).

“Liar,” you say, rolling your eyes. You take a sip of the coffee in your hand, drumming your pencil against the floor with the other. “I stopped talking about traffic ten minutes ago.”

Jaemin racks his brain to think of a suitable response, but when you choose not to reprimand him further, he’s grateful. “When is Haechan getting here?” you ask, more to yourself than him. “He said he’d be here fifteen minutes ago.”

He shrugs. “Maybe he got stuck somewhere. Do you want me to call him?”

“That’s okay. It’s getting late anyway, and I told Chaewon I’d help her search for a new laundry hamper online. Ours tore a week ago.” You grimace, and Jaemin nods sympathetically. Kim Chaewon, your roommate, has a way with items that isn’t necessarily good. Everything that she touches somehow breaks. You suppose it runs in the family; her brother, Kim Namjoon, has the exact same problem.

“What were you telling me earlier?” he asks, putting his phone down and flexing his fingers. 

“Nothing.” You shake your head. “I was talking about traffic.”

“Liar.” 

“It’s true!” you protest. Then, as if on cue, your phone chimes with a notification. You pick it up, quickly skimming through the message. “It’s Chaewon. She’s back already.” You put your phone back down, regarding the papers spread haphazardly in front of you. “If Haechan gets here, tell him that this is the outline I’ve planned out, and if he wants to make any changes he should text me.”

“Got it.” Jaemin flashes a thumbs up and a toothy grin.

You smile back, picking up your phone and coffee and slinging your bag onto your shoulder. “Don’t get up,” you tell him, “I’ll shut the door behind me.”

He nods, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied groan. You step over his stretched legs and head out. It’s only when Jaemin hears the click of the door closing behind you that he decides to stand up and stretch his legs for a bit.

Invariably, his thoughts wander to you. He finds that he does that often, these days. He really shouldn’t be surprised, he supposes—he’s been in love with you for so, so long. It’s hard to pinpoint an exact moment to define when he fell for you, when all your moments together seem to blend and mesh together into one big, swirling mass of bright-coloured memories and a warm sense of familiarity. 

He’s willing to wait. He’s willing to push aside his own happiness as long as you’re happy. He learnt that the hard way, back when you were in high school and one of your classmates had a crush on you. Turns out that you liked him back, too, and like most teenagers in search of some sort of romantic relationship in life—no matter how short-lived—the two of you started dating. 

Jaemin had been petty back then. He hadn’t bothered trying to hide how irked he was by the fact that you were dating someone else. But when you had come up to him and told him that you were worried you’d done something wrong, he realised his behaviour was childish, and in a moment of conviction coupled with that teenage high of being the selfless knight in armour, he backed off.

Two weeks later, you broke up.

It’s sort of similar to the situation right now—except you’re not in a relationship with anyone.

Jaemin knows for sure he’s not completely jealous. A tiny, miniscule amount, maybe, but definitely not whole-heartedly. He’s more… annoyed, than anything else. Annoyed by how unaffected you appear to be by the whole ordeal. Jeno, too. The two of you are acting as though nothing ever happened and there’s no need for you two to be wary of each other. 

He’s read some of the comments underneath the post, and a vast majority of them are about how cute you both look together, that it isn’t surprising you’re a couple given how perfect you and Jeno seem to be for each other.

That’s what annoys him the most.

The thing about being head over heels for your best friend is that it hurts. It hurts because he’s scared to tell you how he feels in fear that you don’t reciprocate his feelings and would end up ruining the friendship you have. In all honesty, Jaemin would rather suck it up and be your best friend than nothing at all. That’s why he always tells himself that it’s okay to watch from the sidelines. To comfort you and be there for you when you need it, but never push your boundaries and overstep. 

So you don’t bring up the topic of the photograph, and neither does he.

A sharp knock sounds on his door, and Jaemin carefully tiptoes through the papers on the floor to open it. It swings open to reveal your project partner, Lee Haechan, who’s grinning obnoxiously with a box of donuts in his hands and his backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Hi,” he says, stepping in and thrusting the sweet snack into Jaemin’s hands. “I got these for Y/N to apologise for being late.” 

“Too late.” Jaemin places the box on top of his desk. “She already left.”

“What? But I was only late by—” he checks his watch, shoulders visibly deflating— “half an hour. Oops.”

Jaemin bends down and gathers the sheets of paper you left behind, bundling them up together. He holds the bundle out to Haechan. “Here. She said that she made an outline and that if you wanna discuss it more, you should text her.”

Haechan nods, sitting down on Jaemin’s swivel chair before he can say anything. He takes the sheets of paper, thumbing through them quickly before unzipping his bag and tossing them inside. He places the bag down by his feet. Jaemin sits down at the foot of his bed.

“Hey, since Y/N isn’t here, that means we can eat the donuts, right?” 

Before Jaemin can open his mouth to protest, the box of donuts is already in Haechan’s lap and the cover is flipped open to reveal the chocolate-glazed rings inside. The boy takes a bite out of one, letting out an exaggerated moan at the taste. “Oh, these are good. You should try one.”

He holds out the box to Jaemin, who obliges, albeit begrudgingly. He doesn’t eat it, however. The powdery sugar sticks to his fingers.

“Are you okay?” Haechan asks after swallowing.

Jaemin frowns. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Haechan looks at him strangely before saying, “Even after you saw the photo of Y/N and Jeno?”

Oh. Jaemin looks down at the donut in his hand, forcing out a chuckle. He’s not that obvious, is he? Apparently, he is—if someone as thick-headed as Lee Haechan knows about his crush on you, well… who knows how many other people were aware of his feelings? He swallows down the uncomfortable lump in his throat, looking up again.

“Y–Yeah. They aren’t together, or anything. Why would I care?”

“So you aren’t jealous, or anything.”

Haechan says it so easily, like it’s a mere statement or fact and not something that could potentially be true. Jaemin isn't about to admit anything to him, of course.

“No,” he says, far too quickly for his liking. “I’m not.”

His friend merely raises an eyebrow at him, popping the remnants of the donut in his hand into his mouth. “Sure,” he says slowly. “If you aren’t jealous, then why are you holding that donut so tightly it looks like it’s about to break?”

Jaemin looks down at his hand, blinking. His grip on the sugary confection has increased, so much so that powdered sugar sticks to not just his fingertips but his palm as well. A small part of it even looks like it might crumble under the pressure. Exhaling lightly, he loosens his fingers.

“I’m not jealous,” he reiterates. “I’m just… annoyed.”

Haechan dusts his fingers off, placing the box back on Jaemin’s desk. He looks at his friend contemplatively, resting his elbow on his lap and his chin on his palm. “Annoyed about what, exactly?” 

Jaemin figures he might as well bite the bullet and tell him. Haechan knows something is up, anyway—trying to cover it up and make up some bullshit excuse would most likely cause more suspicion on his part.

“I’m… annoyed that everyone thinks Y/N and Jeno are good for each other. Like, they barely know each other! They only know each other through me, and it’s not like they talk on a daily basis or something. It’s just so– so pissing off. They don’t seem bothered by the post, either, and I don’t know what to make of it. I’m just– just mad, and annoyed, that’s all.”

He rakes his free hand through his hair, letting out a tense breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Haechan hums, fixing Jaemin with a stern look. “Sounds to me like you’re jealous.”

“I’m not,” he insists again. 

Haechan raises his palms placatingly. “Okay, okay, you’re not jealous. You’re annoyed and pissed off for no apparent reason. The important thing here is—” he clicks his tongue once— “what are you going to do about it?”

Jaemin blinks. “What can I do about it?”

The boy grins, a glint forming in his eyes. Jaemin swallows. Maybe asking Haechan, of all people, for advice isn’t the best idea. But it’s too late to back out. He might as well listen and then contemplate over Haechan’s words later. 

Haechan leans forward, still grinning, before he says:

“I’m gonna tell you the most effective, fool-proof way you can win over Y/N and show the rest of the world just how much more compatible you are with her.”

It's only when Haechan tells him what his plan is that Jaemin takes a bite out of his donut. It tastes more like cardboard in his mouth.

Once his friend has left and he's cleaned all the residual stickiness of the sweet, fried snack from his fingers, he freezes and stands up straight, a singular thought resonating through his mind.

Haechan's idea isn't that bad after all.

CLICHÉ BOYFRIEND THING #1: LENDING YOU HIS JACKET.

Movie nights with your friends always mean raucous, loud and boisterous company. 

It also means you always go to the late-night screenings at the nearby movie theatre.

For reasons you absolutely cannot fathom, you and the rest of your friend group somehow always end up being free only after dinner, when the sun has already set and people should be sleeping. Haechan, Yeji, Jaemin and Renjun don’t mind staying up late, though, and even though you value your sleep, you know they’ll drag you out anyway. Might as well make the whole process easier for everyone and go willingly.

The group fans out of the entrance to the theatre, and all of you begin the twenty-minute walk back to your dorms. Haechan and Renjun are busy bickering over something they saw in the movie and Yeji tags along with them, occasionally offering her input. That leaves you and Jaemin to bring up the rear. The two of you walk in silence, content with watching the trio in front of you argue fruitlessly over small details you don’t even remember seeing in the film.

You really should’ve worn warmer clothes.

The night is cool, the breeze wafting around carrying with it that slight chill that makes goosebumps erupt across your skin but isn’t enough to make you shiver. Still, your fingers are freezing, and you didn’t bring a jacket with you so you don’t even have pockets you can tuck your hands into. Next time, you should wear more than just a simple t-shirt and jeans.

Jaemin walks next to you, lower lip caught between his teeth and the hood of his hoodie pulled over his head. You nudge his shoulder. “I know that look. What’s running through that brain of yours?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead swivelling his head to you. A gust of wind rustles the leaves of the lone tree planted nearby. The movie theatre was a short walk away from your college campus. You checked your phone five minutes ago and the time was 11:35 pm. Pretty late for five people to walk back together, but at least you’re reducing your carbon footprint on the world.

“I’m not thinking of anything,” he says.

“Liar.” You bump his shoulder again. “You know, you’ve been doing a lot of that these days. First saying you were listening to me, and now saying you aren’t thinking of anything.”

“I’m not!”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” you sing-song, grinning.

Jaemin scoffs, although his lips curl up in a fond—yet exasperated—smile. “What are you, three years old?”

“Still more mature than you.” You stick your tongue out at him.

The two of you round the corner. Another particularly harsh puff of wind does the trick this time—you shiver, feeling the cold bite your cheeks and sting your arms. You wrap your arms around yourself to try and conserve some warmth, puffing out your cheeks.

When you look next to you, Jaemin has stopped in his tracks. You incline your head. “Hey. Come on, why’d you stop? I’m sleepy.”

Jaemin is quiet for a moment. “Why didn’t you bring a jacket, asshole?”

You bristle at the word asshole, and your best friend shakes his head, walking over to you. You open your mouth to retort, but before you can get a word out, Jaemin pulls his hoodie over his head and stuffs it into your arms. 

“Here,” he mumbles, not looking at you, and continues walking.

You gawk at the back of his head, clutching his hoodie like it’s some sort of lifeline. He pauses, turns around and says, “I thought you were sleepy. Put it on, and let’s go.”

“I’m– I can’t just wear your hoodie like that, Jaemin!” you squeak out. Your voice is far too loud for your liking, and you cringe inwardly at yourself.

“Do you want me to put it on for you?” he deadpans.

Heat prickles your cheeks—and it’s rather ironic, really, that now your body decides to warm itself up. “I know how to wear a hoodie, asshole.”

“Then wear it, Y/N.”

The loud voices of the rest of your friends sounds a lot more softer now. Evidently, they haven’t noticed you and Jaemin straggling behind. Either that, or they don’t particularly care. You stare at him, too tongue-tied to actually form a coherent response. “I…”

“Preferably tonight,” he adds.

You glare at him, finally relenting and bunching up the cottony soft material. You pull it over your head and slide your arms through. The sleeves fall past your fingers and the jacket itself comes to rest at your thighs. You put your hands into the pockets, curling them into fists to retain as much warmth as you can. “There,” you mutter sullenly, “happy?”

“Ecstatic,” he replies, sarcasm dripping off his tone. “Now do you wanna go back, or not?”

“Coming, coming.” 

You jog over to him, expecting him to start walking again. Instead, he places his hands on your shoulders. You glance at him quizzically, eyebrows furrowing. “Wha–”

He cuts you off by reaching behind you and pulls the hood over your head. Your hair falls forward, and he tucks the flyaway strands behind your ear. With practiced ease, he draws the drawstrings of the hoodie tight, so that the hood rests snugly around your ears and head.

He takes a step back, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Wouldn’t want your ears to get cold.”

Well. 

At least this time, when your face feels warm, you can blame it on his hoodie.

Jaemin turns around and begins the walk to catch up to Yeji, Haechan and Renjun. They’ve somehow drifted further apart from the pair of you than you thought, but you can still hear their back-and-forth arguing. 

You follow him, increasing your pace so you can walk side-by-side. Jaemin’s hoodie smells a lot like him, you think. Like mint and coffee; though you didn’t think that was a combination that would go well together at all, it’s oddly comforting. The fabric retains the faintest hint of Jaemin’s lavender-scented fabric softener. If you and Jaemin were something else, you’d joke that you would steal his hoodie.

You blink. Did you just think of you and Jaemin as something else?

The idea isn’t unappealing in the slightest. 

You blink again. Something must be up with your brain, that’s why your thoughts are getting all fuzzy and muffled. You remove a hand from the confines of its warm pocket to stifle a yawn. Yes, that must be it—you’re just sleepy, that’s all.

This time, when the wind rustles the leaves and pinches your skin, you don’t shiver—but Jaemin does. He’s tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans, but you can make out that he’s cold nonetheless. You feel a wave of guilt come over you.

“Why’d you give me your hoodie when you’re cold too, dumbass?” You nudge his shoulder again.

He dodges you, rolling his eyes. “Y’know, judging by the number of times you’ve hit me on my shoulder, I wouldn’t be surprised if I wake up tomorrow with a big bruise.”

“Don’t change the topic,” you warn, narrowing your eyes.

“Who, me?” Your best friend points innocently to himself. “You know I don’t do that.”

“Jaemin, I’m being serious,” you sigh. “You shouldn’t give me your hoodie just because I’m cold, when you’re feeling cold too.” You tug at the hem of the hoodie, ready to pull it off and hand it back to its owner.

“You looked colder, that’s why.”

Your lips part, forming a perfect ‘o’ shape. Jaemin doesn’t look at you. He rubs his forearms with his hands sheepishly.

“Jaemin–”

“Look, it doesn’t matter, okay?” he interrupts. “We’re almost back at campus. Just wear it; there’s no use giving it back to me now.”

You look in front of you and you can just barely make out the silhouette of your college’s housing facilities. You can also see three figures waiting for you both at the end of the road.

“Fine,” you concede. “But don’t do it again next time.”

“Okay.”

Both of you quicken your footsteps to catch up with your three other friends. Renjun looks mildly pissed off, tapping his foot against the pavement incessantly. Yeji and Haechan, on the other hand, sport gleeful smiles on their faces. When you approach them, the two of them exchange knowing looks.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Haechan says. “What took you so long?”

Yeji elbows him. “Shut up. Can’t you see what they were up to?”

“Ouch, woman.” Haechan glares at her. “Don’t elbow me like that. That’s an unwarranted offence.”

Renjun cuts in before Yeji can come up with a snarky reply. “Can we get inside? I wanna sleep.”

“I second that,” Jaemin pipes up.

“Me, too,” you chime in.

“Excellent.” Renjun takes out his university ID from his pocket and scans it. The gate swings open and all five of you file inside, Jaemin shutting it behind him. “Good night, everyone. See you guys tomorrow.”

You wave goodbye to him. Renjun and Haechan are roommates, but the latter stays behind. Yeji is rooming with another girl called Karina, and you’re pretty sure Chaewon is fast asleep. 

“So,” Haechan drawls, lifting up a finger to point at you. “Are we just gonna ignore the fact that Y/N is wearing Jaemin’s clothes?”

“Yes, we are, you idiot,” Yeji hisses. 

You roll your eyes at their antics—though you can’t deny the truth in his words—and stifle another yawn. “I’m tired. See you all tomorrow.” 

Yeji and Jaemin raise their hands in farewell, but Haechan simply snickers before muttering a ‘good night’. You suppose you should be concerned by his behaviour, but frankly, you’re too sleepy to care. Besides, Jaemin’s hoodie is incredibly warm and snuggly.

When you reach your dorm, you collapse onto your bed, not bothering to change. The soft, minty scent from his jacket wafts up your nose, and you inhale deeply, eyes fluttering shut.

You hope Jaemin doesn’t want his hoodie back anytime soon. You might actually steal it from him.

CLICHÉ BOYFRIEND THING #2: CARRYING YOU ON HIS BACK WHEN YOU’RE DRUNK.

You should’ve known better than to trust Lee Haechan with making your drink.

He passes you a red solo cup, and you bring it up to your nose, taking a whiff. It smells more like vodka than Sprite. You shrug, tipping it to your lips and downing it in one go. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve already had your fair share of drinks and you’re just about to cross the threshold between tipsy and drunk, but you figure one more can’t hurt. The liquid burns the back of your throat, making you wince slightly. Haechan claps loudly, letting out a small whoop before going back to making more drinks.

“Dude.” Renjun gapes at you, mouth open. “How the fuck did you even swallow that? I puked the first time I had it.”

You place the empty cup in his hand, patting his cheek with your other hand. “It’s okay, Renjunnie,” you coo. “I’m gonna be sick too.”

The boy wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Go to the bathroom.”

You hit his chest, eyes wide. “I can’t find one,” you whine. “I need to pee, too.”

“Find Jaemin,” your friend grumbles. “Isn’t he, like, your guardian angel, or something?”

“Renjunnie,” you say, leaning closer to him. He leans backwards. You don’t relent, moving close to him so that your mouth is right by his ear. “Don’t tell this to anyone, ‘mkay?”

“Okay.”

“You have to pinkie promi—no, pinkie swear that you won’t tell anyone, ‘mkay?” You pout at him, lower lip jutting out and stick out your pinkie finger.

“Okay, okay.” Renjun hooks his finger with yours before letting his hand drop back to his side. “Tell me quickly before you puke.”

“Oh. Right. I was supposed to puke.”

The scandalised expression that forms on Renjun’s face is enough for you to snort loudly. You slap your thigh with glee. “Just kidding!”

Renjun rolls his eyes. “Remind me to never let you near Lee Haechan ever again.”

“Renjunnie, don’t be like that.” You pout again. “I’ll tell you now,” you say, before exaggeratedly whisper-yelling, “I still have Jaeminie’s hoodie.”

The boy straightens up, rolling his eyes again. “So? I’d be more surprised if you didn’t have it.”

You pretend not to hear him. “Oh, I really am gonna throw up,” you moan, clutching your stomach.

Thank God for Huang Renjun and his eagle-like eyesight. Somehow, he manages to meet Jaemin’s eyes through the crowd of sweaty, dancing bodies and wave him over. You clutch your stomach harder, all thoughts centred on not getting sick all over your new shoes. Jaemin miraculously weaves his way through the people and comes to a standstill in front of you both.

“She drank one of Haechan’s concoctions,” Renjun says by way of explanation.

“Ah.” Jaemin’s expression clears, but a concerned crease forms between his eyebrows. “Do you think you can walk?” he asks you, placing a hand on your back and rubbing gentle circles.

“Yes,” you mumble, looking up at him and blinking blearily, “but you’ll have to catch me if I fall.” Then you reach up and jab his chest with your index finger. “I’m not gonna talk to you if you don’t catch me, ‘mkay?”

“Can’t risk that,” Jaemin says.

“Do you know where Yeji is?” Renjun asks.

Jaemin nods, saying something about her playing beer pong in the basement with Chaewon and some other girls. His other hand comes to rest on your shoulder as you double over, your vision turning a tiny bit hazy. He lays the hand on your back flat, his palm wrinkling the fabric of your denim jacket a little.

“C’mon.” He gently straightens you up—as much as he can without you toppling over backwards—and leads you through the maze of hallways and humans to the nearest bathroom. 

Once inside, he locks the door behind him to avoid any unwarranted interruptions. You immediately kneel by the toilet, clutching its base like it’s a life buoy and you might float away into the vast expanse of an imaginary sea if you let go. Jaemin bends down next to you, still rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Do you want some water?” 

His voice sounds like you’re hearing him from the bottom of a swimming pool, muffled and slurred. You turn your face to him and blink once. “Huh?”

He sighs. “Nevermind. Just… do what you need to do.”

You turn back to the toilet, staring at the white ceramic. Then, suddenly, a dejected and bewildered look passes across your face. The corners of your lips turn down. (Jaemin would be lying if he said he doesn’t find it absolutely adorable.)

“Jaeminie,” you say, disappointment bleeding into your tone, “I’m not getting sick.”

Jaemin can’t help it, but a soft laugh bubbles out of his lips. “Is that a bad thing?”

You frown at yourself. “...No. I don’t think so.”

“Right.”

You glance up at him. “I do need to pee, though. Really badly.”

“I’ll, uh—” He licks his lips, eyeing your figure cautiously. “I’ll be waiting outside. Yell if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

He turns around and heads out, closing the door. You scramble to your feet, miraculously managing not to trip and fall flat onto your own face. You grin to yourself and pat yourself on the back. You deserve to be complimented for standing up, you think. “Jaeminie!” you call out, unable to hide the glee in your voice. “I stood up!”

You hear a soft chuckle, before, “That’s great, Y/N. I’m so proud of you.”

Then you quickly do your business, and after you’re done, you pull up your pants and grab the edge of the marble counter of the sink to steady yourself. You turn on the faucet, letting the water run over your hands as you look at yourself in the mirror. You frown at yourself again, turning off the tap and patting your hair. 

When you swing open the door, you don’t miss the way Jaemin’s lips twitch with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Jaeminie,” you say, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder, “I wanna go home.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “Let me just text Renjun and Yeji and tell them that we’re leaving.”

He pulls out his phone from his pocket, tapping away at the screen. You take the moment to observe your best friend—or, at least, look at him as best as you can. You squint at him, nose scrunching up.

His hair falls in waves across his forehead, a few strands brushing past his eyebrows. You itch to brush them away. His eyes are intent, and with the light from his phone screen mixing with the light from the strobe lights hung up, they shimmer in the dim corridor. His lips are strawberry pink and he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. The bomber jacket he’s thrown over his white tee accentuates his physique, and the leather pants he’s wearing fit his form perfectly.

Somehow, you prefer it when he’s just wearing a hoodie and a pair of sweats.

Then, maybe, you wouldn’t feel that slight stirring in your chest when you look at him now. You’re sure your heartbeat is racing at a speed that you can’t even begin to calculate—and he’s not even doing anything that’s remotely out of the ordinary. 

Jaemin looks up from his phone, tucking it back into his pocket. He meets your gaze with his. “What’s wrong? Something on my face?”

You shake your head, whispering out a subdued, “No.”

“Alright, then.” He throws a hand across your shoulders, letting you rest your body weight on him. “Let’s go home, hm?”

You don’t say anything. He walks you out of the house where the party was held—you can’t even remember whose house it is—and looks around. “Hey, this isn’t too far from your dorm area, right?”

You shrug, looking down. 

He continues, “Do you wanna walk home?”

You nod. The cool breeze clears your head, even if it’s only a little bit. Way better than sitting inside a stuffy taxi that smells of stale coffee and cigarette smoke—that would only make your head feel even heavier than it already does. 

Jaemin hums, tugging your jacket to get you to start walking. You stay rooted in your place, though. “Jaemin,” you say, voice soft, “my legs can’t carry me.”

He looks at you, an amused smile flitting across his lips. “Your legs can’t carry you?”

“No.” You shake your head vigorously for emphasis.

“Do you want me to carry you?”

You bite your lip, suddenly overcome by a feeling of bashfulness. One side of Jaemin’s lips curls up when he sees the way you look down at your shoes. 

“C’mon.” He takes a step to you. “It’s no big deal, really.”

“Are– are you sure?” 

“Positive.” He turns around, presenting his back to you. “Here. Hop on.”

“You’re not gonna drop me, right?” You can’t help but feel cautious and reluctant—and then you shake your head. This is Na Jaemin for God’s sake! He’s your best friend, and best friends look out for one another. Even if one of them is drunk and can’t think straight and suddenly finds the other extremely attractive for no good reason.

“I won’t drop you,” he assures you, turning over his shoulder to look at you.

With the streetlights hovering above you and the warm golden light bathing you both in the darkness of the night, it feels like you’re on a stage and the spotlight is on you. All you need is an audience to watch every move of yours—but then again, it’s better if there’s no one looking; some moments are best kept private, after all.

You take a step forward and hook your arms around Jaemin’s neck. His hands find purchase on the back of your thighs and with one fluid motion, he hoists you up. You suck in a breath sharply, head swirling at the sudden movement, but it settles down once he tightens his grip securely.

“Just hold on tight, okay?”

You hum, and Jaemin begins walking. The light wind ruffles your hair, and you lay your head against his shoulder. He still smells the same—of coffee and mint and lavender—and his palms are warm against your jeans.

“Comfortable?” he asks, voice low.

“Yeah. Very.” You sigh, letting your eyes close for a few brief moments. “Thanks, Jaeminie.”

He chuckles, and you can feel the vibrations of his laugh from where your hands are placed on his chest, clasped together. “Don’t worry about it, Y/N.”

Jaemin doesn’t falter even once, only occasionally hoisting you up when he feels you slipping down. You don’t say anything, and neither does he, simply listening to the sounds of the cars and the crickets chirping. 

Before you know it, he’s reached your dorm. He stands outside the door and gently brings you down. You don’t remove your hands from around him until your feet are safely planted on the ground. “Do you have your key?” he asks, placing a hand around your waist to support you.

You nod, fishing around in your back pocket for your keys. With a triumphant ‘aha!’ you pull them out, brandishing them in front of you.

Jaemin lets out a soft laugh, taking the keys from you. He unlocks the door and turns on the lights. You blink at the sudden brightness. Your roommate is nowhere to be found, and Jaemin suspects that she’s probably out with her boyfriend. 

Slowly, he leads you to your bed, letting you sit down. You look at him sleepily, a dopey smile on your face. He stands in front of you, shaking his head affectionately. “What’s got you smiling, hm?”

Your smile widens. “You’re doing things to me, Na Jaemin. And I kinda like it.”

Jaemin swears his heart stutters in his chest. He knows you’re drunk and that you probably won’t even remember all this by the next day, but if you were sober, then he would’ve told you that you’re doing things to him, too.

And he loves it.

CLICHÉ BOYFRIEND THING #3: LENDING YOU A SHOULDER TO SLEEP ON.

Keeping secrets from Na Jaemin is, admittedly, a lot easier when you’re in cahoots with his roommate.

Of course, you and Jeno haven’t had much occasion to meet each other, the only times you see him being when you brush past each other in hallways or in the cafeteria—but having him as an ally makes your job a whole lot easier.

There’s no way in hell you’re telling Jaemin that you and Jeno posed outside his room on purpose when you knew Park Jihoon was going to be there.

And certainly not because you have a huge crush on Na Jaemin, and the only way to figure out if he likes you back is by making him jealous.

Yes, your plan is unhinged. No, Jeno did not try to talk you out of it. No, you did not have a better alternative. No, your other friends don’t know.

Maybe you weren’t a hundred percent sure when you first came up with your half-baked, impromptu plan, but now… Now, there’s no way you can possibly deny the little skip in your heart whenever he smiles at you, or the way your stomach twists with butterflies when he says something that makes your insides melt and your brain turn into mush.

It’s all horribly obvious now: you have a crush on your best friend, and have been crushing on him for ages.

It comes as no surprise when Jeno corners you after the two of you end up standing next to each other in the line at the cafeteria, waiting to get food. He slips his fingers around your wrist and pulls you with him to the back of the ever-growing queue. 

“How’s it going?” he asks, grabbing two trays and handing one to you with a small grin. “Any updates?”

You tilt your head. “Well… he’s always around me, now. I can barely get, like, two minutes alone before he comes over and talks to me about something or the other, unless we’re in class.”

Jeno hums, shuffling forward in the line. “You think it was a success?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s too early to tell.”

“I don’t think so,” Jeno disagrees. “I think he’s just as whipped for you as you are for him.”

Despite yourself, a little beam of hope peaks through the crevices in your rib cage. You smile at him. “You think so?”

“I do. And when you two get together, please tell me when you’re gonna be in our dorm so that I can find myself something to do while you two make heart faces at each other.”

“So we can get some privacy?” you tease.

“Nah,” he answers, “so that I don’t have to third wheel around you two.” 

You chuckle, scooping up some curry onto your tray. “Thanks for the help, though, Jeno.”

“Don’t worry about it; this was pretty fun for me, too.”

The two of you exchange goodbyes and split up. You head over to Jaemin, Haechan, Renjun and Yeji; Jeno walks over to the table his best friends, Mark and Yangyang, have saved for him.

“Finally.” Yeji rolls her eyes at you. “What took you and Jeno so long?”

You place your tray on the table, pulling back a chair and sitting down. Jaemin greets you with a small smile, and Renjun and Haechan are too busy talking about the latter’s unhealthy habit of gaming late into the night. You shrug. “We were just talking.”

Yeji rolls her eyes again, letting out a hmph before stabbing at her potatoes with a force that almost knocks her glass of water off the table. You furrow your eyebrows at her quizzically, but she ignores you and thrusts the fork with a speared potato piece into her mouth.

“Don’t worry about her,” Jaemin whispers, scooching closer to you. “She got back her Psychology report, and… it didn’t go so well.”

“Oh,” you mumble back, grimacing in sympathy. You look down at your curry and baked beans, and pick up a spoon, ready to dig in. 

“But what did take you and Jeno so long?” he asks, staring at his mashed potatos instead of looking at you.

“Oh. Um. He was just asking me about my semester project with Haechan, that’s all,” you lie through your teeth.

Jaemin stays silent for a moment. “You work too hard, Y/N. Loosen up and live a little.”

You pause, spoon raised mid-air. “You’re talking to the person who got piss-drunk at a party no less than two weeks ago.”

“What time did you go to sleep last night?” he counters, raising his gaze to meet yours and raising an eyebrow. 

“I–”

“Exactly.” Jaemin leans back in his seat, crossing his arms. He bites his lower lip, a contemplative gleam in his eyes. Then, he states nonchalantly:

“I’m taking you out with me. Right after you finish eating.”

“I– wha–?” You splutter, placing your spoon down again. “Jaemin, I– I have projects and homework, and stuff that’s due for Monday–”

“It’s Friday,” he says. “You don’t have any classes in the afternoon, and neither do I. Plus, you have two whole days to finish everything that’s due for Monday.”

“Yeah, but–”

“I’ll help you out with your homework,” he bargains.

You let your shoulders slump with resignation. Clearly, Jaemin isn’t going to relent. You might as well go along with his spontaneous outing. “Fine. Uh, just the two of us?”

“Just the two of us,” he confirms, nodding.

You’re not going to lie—the fact that it’s going to be just the two of you for the rest of the evening makes you feel deliciously warm and tingly all over. You quickly shovel food into your mouth, too excited at the prospect of spending time with your best friend-slash-guy-you-have-feelings-for. However, a sudden thought crosses your mind.

“Wait,” you say, chewing slowly, “I need to change.”

Your best friend freezes with a spoon in his mouth. He pops it out of his mouth, glancing at you. “Nah,” he decides, “you look fine.”

You look down at yourself: a dark blue shirt and mom jeans stare back at you. You run a hand through your unkempt hair. “It won’t take me more than–”

“The dorms are a twenty-minute walk away; we don’t have time for you to change.” Jaemin pats your shoulder reassuringly. “You look good, Y/N.”

You gawk at him, unable to say anything. Heat floods your neck and cheeks. In an attempt to distract yourself, you grab your glass of water and gulp down a mouthful.

And then promptly choke.

You splutter and cough, bent over the tabletop with watering eyes. Jaemin sucks in a breath sharply, standing up and patting your back. Renjun glances at you and mumbles, “Oh shit, Y/N’s choking,” before going back to his discussion with Haechan; Yeji is busy arranging her mashed potatoes in the shape of a frowny face. Some friends you have.

Once your hacking subsides and you can sit up straight again, you don’t meet Jaemin’s concerned eyes. Embarrassment clouds your mind, and even though you’ve been in much worse situations around him, you can’t stop your ears and cheeks from becoming hot.

“I think I’m done eating,” you say softly.

Jaemin nods, dragging his chair back and standing up. You do the same. “Hey, guys, Y/N and I are gonna be heading out for a bit, ‘kay?”

None of them respond, although Haechan does flash the middle finger at you both (classic Haechan behaviour; you’re not even surprised anymore). You and Jaemin exit the cafeteria and walk towards the parking lot. Jaemin heads straight to Haechan’s car.

“Haechan’s car?” You smile, amused. “Did you steal his keys again?”

Jaemin only reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of keys with a keychain shaped like the sun dangling off the ring. One side of his lips tugs upwards in a coy smirk, and he winks at you. 

You bite back a laugh. “He’s gonna be so mad.”

“Worth it,” Jaemin hums. He unlocks the car—a red Toyota—and gestures for you to get in. You comply, opening the passenger door and sitting down on the plush brown seat. You pull the seatbelt across your chest. Jaemin gets in as well, shutting the door behind him and starting the engine. 

“Where are we going anyway?”

He reverses, exiting the parking lot and waiting for some cars to pass by before driving onto the main road. “A picnic.”

“Without food?” You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re up to something.”

Jaemin glances at you, rolling his eyes. “No, I’m not. We’ll just buy food on the way.”

You huff, not satisfied with his answer. Judging by the way Jaemin is focused on the road, and the way his lips are pursed together, you come to the conclusion that he’s definitely up to something, and he’s definitely not going to tell you what it is.

Instead, you ask, “Can I play some music?”

“Sure.”

You fiddle with the dials on the radio until you find a radio station that plays some of your favourite songs every now and then. A song by a band that you occasionally listen to crackles through the speakers and you begin to hum along to the tune. 

Jaemin looks fondly at you once, before diverting his attention back to the road. When the song comes to an end, the soft strains of guitar chords fading out, you glance at Jaemin. 

He has one hand on the steering wheel, the other placed gently on the gear, and he drives with a kind of focus that’s in between manoeuvring through vehicles and lost in his own thoughts. With the loose cardigan thrown over his t-shirt, and his hair ruffled slightly, he looks like he’s just woken up and gotten out of bed. 

It’s a look that he somehow manages to pull off incredibly well. (You don’t miss the way your heart flutters, ever so lightly.)

You lean your head back on the headrest, letting a small sigh escape your parted lips. The exhaustion of the day—and the lack of sleep you got the past night—catches up with you. Your eyelids feel heavy, and you blink rapidly in an attempt to keep them open.

Jaemin pulls the brakes and the car stops at a red light. He opens his mouth to start up a conversation, but when he turns his head and sees you half-awake and failing to stifle yawns, he asks instead, “Are you tired?”

“Mm,” you hum, turning to him with a small smile. “Not really.”

He scoffs disbelievingly and shakes his head when you lift up a hand to cover your mouth when you yawn again. “You’re a terrible liar.”

The display on the traffic signal dwindles down to single numbers, and Jaemin starts the engine again. The purr and rumble of the engine only serves as a soothing rhythm and involuntarily, your eyes flutter shut.

You shift against the headrest, feeling your neck strain from stopping your head from lolling forwards. With a soft groan, you adjust your position, trying to find a posture that won’t cause a neck sprain.

“C’mere,” Jaemin says, and when you look at him, he’s patting his shoulder closest to you invitingly.

If you weren’t so sleepy, you wouldn’t have accepted his offer—that’s what you tell yourself, at least. Lucky for you, you are sleepy.

Scooching in your seat and loosening your seatbelt a little, you let yourself gently rest your head on Jaemin’s shoulder. The fabric of his cardigan is warm and rustles against your cheek. Vaguely, you wonder if the chequered pattern of the threads will be imprinted on your skin by the time you wake up. Then you close your eyes.

Jaemin likes this feeling.

He likes the feel of your hair spread out haphazardly over his arm. He likes the steady weight of your head on his shoulder. He likes the fact that if he turns his head just a little bit, the tip of his nose would brush against the crown of your forehead.

Jaemin had plans to take you the beach on the outskirts of the city. There’s a beautiful sunset point there, and he knows for a fact that you would love the view of the orange light dancing off the waves as the sun disappears into the horizon. He was planning on stopping at the gas station near the sunset point and buying two cans of cherry soda and packets of potato chips for your impulsive little picnic.

But hearing your deep, even breaths right next to him and the gentle manner in which your eyelashes rest against your cheek, Jaemin finds that he prefers this a lot more.

He’s nearing the outskirts of the city, and he can just make out the gas station half a mile away. Jaemin slows the car down. He wants to cherish this moment for as long as he can.

Cherry soda and potato chips and sunsets can wait.

Besides, he thinks he likes this view better.

CLICHÉ BOYFRIEND THING #4: KISSING IN THE RAIN.

“Shit, I forgot to bring an umbrella.” 

You glance at your best friend, remorse filling your expression. The two of you had decided to spend some time studying at a nearby coffee shop for a change of place and atmosphere. Two hours had passed, and you’d managed to finish a good chunk of your homework and assignments. The freshly-brewed coffee and crisp, buttery croissants that you snacked on while working were an added bonus.

Until you and Jaemin decide to leave, and as soon as you open the door, fat droplets of water from the skies above stain the grey concrete.

Thankfully, the coffee shop has a little patio with an overhead covering, so you and Jaemin don’t get drenched in the rain. Unfortunately, the coffee shop just closed for the day, meaning you both can’t go back inside. (The owner was already annoyed because the two of you had stayed over-time.)

“It’s okay,” Jaemin says. “We can just, uh, wait, I guess.”

You peer up at the clouds. They look dark and menacing, and it doesn’t appear as though the rain is going to subside anytime soon. Raindrops fall endlessly, hitting the ground with a force that makes you glad you’re under shelter. “Wait for how long?”

“Hang on, I’ll call Renjun to come pick us up.” Jaemin pulls out his phone from his pocket, and presses Renjun’s number. The boy doesn’t pick up, and once the dial tone ends, he decides to send a text in your group chat asking anyone who’s available to come pick you both up.

“This is stupid.” You sigh, leaning back on the door. “I’m stupid. I should’ve brought an umbrella.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it. We get to spend more time together, right?”

You glance at him, only to find him looking at you already. Jaemin looks bright and exuberant—a striking contrast to the dull greyness of your surroundings. He offers you a smile, moving to stand next to you and leaning back on the wall next to you. You return his smile half-heartedly. “I guess.”

The two of you lapse into silence—only this time, it’s not the comfortable quietness that usually fills in the empty space between you two. This time, the silence is fraught with awkwardness and unresolved words.

When Jaemin woke you up the other day to see the sunset, with packets of chips and cans of cherry soda in tow, you were so touched, you couldn’t say a word.

Literally.

The nap you had just been woken up from rendered your voice husky due to lack of use. Despite wanting to scream and throw your arms around Jaemin in a big hug, the most you could manage was a throaty croak.

That had made you so embarrassed, you couldn’t find it in you to meet his eyes for the rest of the evening. Instead, you grabbed a packet of chips, tore it open and stuffed a handful of the fried potato slices into your mouth. Jaemin had appeared flabbergasted, but he didn’t say anything. 

So while the sun dipped into the crystal clear waters and disappeared, you were busy stacking up on cholesterol and Jaemin was busy staring at the sand beneath his shoes.

The drive back had been the most awkward thing you’ve ever experienced in all your years of living. Every now and then, when your gaze would accidentally meet Jaemin’s, he would open his mouth as though he wanted to say something. But then you would look away, and he wouldn’t let a single sound escape his lips.

You still feel bad about it, even though a week has passed since that day. Heat prickles your cheeks at the mere thought of it, but you know that you need to tell Jaemin how much you appreciated his kind gesture.

Quickly, before you can second guess yourself, you glance at your best friend, mouth set in a determined line. Just like the day at the sunset point, Jaemin has his mouth slightly agape, as though he wants to tell you something. When he sees the serious look on your face, he clamps his mouth shut, waiting for you to speak first.

“Jaemin, I…” 

You roll your lips, cursing yourself inwardly for not being able to get the words on the tip of your tongue out. Forcing yourself to look him in the eye, you stiffen your shoulders, feeling your chest squeeze. Talking to your best friend is never hard; there’s no reason for this time to be any different.

“That day, when you took me on a drive after lunch,” you begin, voice softer than you would like it to be. His eyes soften as he prompts you with a small nod. “I know I was asleep for a huge part of the drive, and the evening… uh, it didn’t really go as planned.” You chuckle at yourself. “I mean, it’s a goddamn sunset point, it’s supposed to be romantic or whatever.”

You take a deep breath before continuing. “But the truth is, Jaemin, you…”

You search for the right word, but your mind draws a blank. “You…”

“You make my palms become all sweaty.”

You crease your eyebrows, puzzled. “I–”

Jaemin continues. “You make my heart feel like it’s gonna burst out of my chest because of how fast it beats when I’m around you. You get me so flustered, I can’t think straight. You make me feel like even if the world’s gonna end, it’s okay, because I’ll have you with me. You make me wanna say all this corny shit to you. You make my life feel like one of those stupid rom-coms you’re obsessed with.”

He takes a step closer to you. Your lips part open slightly, heart hammering inside your chest. You can’t believe your ears.

His voice drops to a whisper. You have to strain your ears to catch his words because they’re barely heard over the sound of the rain.

“You make me wanna kiss you. You make me wanna sleep with you—in the most innocent sense of the word—just so I can see you wake up next to me. You make me wanna hold your hand, just so we don’t get separated.”

Jaemin looks at you, and this time, you look back. He reaches out and grabs one of your hands in his. It’s his next words that make your breath catch in your throat.

“You make me wanna love you.”

He reaches out and takes your other hand. “Is it any one of those?”

Miraculously, speaking comes easier to you now. It feels like a whole weight has been lifted off your shoulders because Jaemin literally took the words out of your mouth.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “All of them, actually.”

Jaemin is so close and you can’t think straight because all you can comprehend is him. He squeezes your hands. You squeeze back. 

“Maybe Haechan isn’t entirely stupid,” he murmurs.

You blink. “Haechan?”

Jaemin looks abashed for a split second. “Yeah. It was his idea.”

“What was it?”

“To do all these cheesy things with you. To show you how much better we would be compared to you and Jeno.” He gives you a little half-smile. “I hope it worked.”

You smile back. “It did. And I’m glad to know my plan worked too.”

“Your plan?”

“The picture,” you explain. “Jeno and I posed on purpose when we knew Jihoon would be outside.”

Your best friend’s eyes widen with sudden understanding. “So you’re telling me Jeno knew you liked me all along?”

You nod, squeezing his hands once more. “But does it matter? You’re the one who makes my palms sweaty, and all of that stuff you said.”

Jaemin’s expression changes. He shifts closer to you such that your chests are just barely touching.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he says.

And he does.

Jaemin lets go of your hands, instead bringing his palms to your cheeks and lowering his head. Your eyes flutter shut. His nose bumps against yours, but he captures your lips with tender gentleness. His lips move softly against your own, and you tilt your head, wrapping both your arms around his neck. He tastes like the Americano he had at the coffee shop—warm and sweet and slightly bitter.

Then his phone rings, and you two jump apart, startled by the sudden noise.

Jaemin curses under his breath, pulling his phone out and receiving the call. “Hello?”

Yeji answers, although she’s shouting so loudly to be heard over the rain, even you can hear her voice despite him not turning on the speaker. “Hey! I’m! At! The! Bus! Stop! Run! ‘Til! There! So! I! Can! Pick! You! Up!”

“Alright, we’ll be there soon,” Jaemin replies, before ending the call and turning back to you.

“We should make a run for it, right?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Yeah.” He nods. “You ready?”

You square your shoulders, looking grimly at the almost empty road. “We’re gonna get drenched.”

“You only live once.”

You grab his hand. “Then we live together, ‘kay?”

Jaemin grins. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Both of you step off the porch, immediately getting subjected to the harsh rain. Your clothes and hair are soaked within minutes, and judging by Jaemin’s muffled yell, so are his. You begin to run towards the general direction of the bus stop, but Jaemin tugs on your hand.

“Wait!” he yells.

You stop.

Jaemin draws you closer, brushing away some wet hair that was plastered to your forehead.

He kisses you in the rain.

Na Jaemin calls you ‘baby’. On days when he’s feeling especially romantic, he calls you ‘sweetheart’. He has your coffee order memorised. His phone’s lock screen is a picture of you with cake batter splattered on your face and hair after a failed baking attempt. He texts you whenever he misses you. Sometimes, he ends FaceTiming you even though it’s been less than half an hour since you parted ways. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear with a perfectly straight face. He says you look beautiful whenever you wake up in the morning curled up next to him, despite your messy bed hair and morning breath. 

Yeji, Renjun and Haechan think that the two of you are the grossest people around. You don’t tell Yeji that you know about the way she looks at Haechan. You suspect Renjun knows, too, but he doesn’t tell them. He’s the first one to congratulate you and Jaemin on your relationship. Jaemin says that he’ll find someone soon, too. Renjun scoffs and says that he prefers being a single hermit and wouldn’t mind being one for the rest of his life. You say that Yeji and Haechan are most definitely not going to be single hermits. He agrees.

Once, you tell Jaemin that you fell for him. He replies with, “Well, you did say that if I let you fall and didn’t catch you, you wouldn’t talk to me,” and then he kisses you long and hard. His dorm becomes your regular meeting spot, and most of the time, you forget to tell Jeno beforehand, much to his disgust (and Jaemin’s glee). 

He still lends you his hoodie. He still smells like mint and coffee and lavender. He still carries you on his back when your legs can’t carry you. He jokes that you should carry him when he’s drunk as well. He doesn’t just let you sleep on his shoulder now; he pulls you close to him and makes sure that there’s as little space between you both as possible. The sunset point has become a regular date spot, as well, and you often say that the sunset there is never complete without cherry soda and potato chips.

He still does the most cliché things ever.

You suppose it’s a Na Jaemin thing.

a/n: my first full-length fic!!! im so excited to put this out here and see what u guys think of it!!! 🥰🤍 with that said, please dont hesitate to let me know what you think abt this self-indulgent fic 💕💞 much love, and i hope u have a great day/night!!! tysm for reading 🤍💖

networks: @kflixnet

#MY HEART #I WANT A NA JAEMIN #THIS WAS SO SO SO CUTE #nana #jaemin fluff #fluff

[faesficfix]

— no limits , jaemin

— synopsis ; out of all the people in the world, you seem to have fallen for the one you swore was off limits.

pairing — jaemin x reader

genre — best friend’s brother, friends to lover-ish

warnings — mutual pining, reader is weak in the knees for jaemin lol

a.n ; hot sauce jaemin on my mind 24/7

wc — 1.8k

“are you even listening to me?” your friend, jiyoo asks as she waves her hand in front of your face. “huh? oh yeah, i was.” you say, slightly dazed while your gaze remained on the boy who had just entered the line to get ahold of today’s meal the college had to offer. “can you stop looking at jaemin and focus on me?” she snapped her fingers in front of you and this time you turned back to her.

“you know him?” you asked a bit too excited and she sighed. you cleared your throat and sat back properly, offering her an apologetic smile. “sorry” you muttered. “no, it’s alright. and yeah of course i know jaemin.” she said, a bit disappointed by the fact she did know him. you couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. “are you guys friends?” you asked, taking interest in the new found relationship between your friend and the hot guy in the queue.

"it's weird calling him my friend, even though my mother wants us to be." she took a bite out of the food in front of her as you waited for her to continue. "that's my brother, na jaemin." she answered. "no way." you responded back baffled. "what do you mean 'no way', i have told you about him!" jiyoon chuckled before rolling her eyes at you.

“yeah, but you didn’t mention the part where he is very good looking.” you said, gaze averting back to the guy that had just left the line. “why would i call my brother good looking.” she said as if it was common sense. “speaking of the devil.” she mumbled and before you could ask her what she meant, you felt warmth behind and slightly turned your head to be met with a tray of warm soup and a cake. your eyes slowly looked up at the guy you were just talking about and he quickly glanced down, sending you a tight smile.

“hey, tell mom i’m not coming home tonight, i’m gonna sleep over at jeno’s.” he told her. you continued to stare up at him, mouth slightly open. “sure, just make sure to call her and tell her when you arrived.” she said not even batting an eye at her brother who stood there. he told her a small thank you before his eyes looked down at you again. “you must be (—), jiyoo has told me some stuff about you. i’m jaemin.” he smiled, a hint of a smirk as he noticed how your mouth was still slightly open.

“i am (—)!” you responded back with a smile. “i know. i just said that.” he let out an airy chuckle and you didn’t know if you wanted the ground to swallow you, or squeal at how cute his laugh was. “yeah, uh, did she say g-good things or bad?” you awkwardly asked back, internally shaming yourself for stuttering in front of jiyoo’s brother. he chuckled. “both?” he smiled before walking off to a table on the other side of the canteen. you heard jiyoo try to hold in her laugh and you didn’t think twice before placing your head on the table. “that was embarrassing.” the both of you said in unison.

“please, (—) i’m begging you, don’t look at my brother like that.” jiyoo expressed, by the time you looked up her smile was gone and was overtaken by a look of disgust. “huh?” you asked, mind still thinking about what your best friend could’ve told her brother about you.

“there is a reason i didn’t tell you that my brother is, attractive- or whatever you guys seem to like about him. he’s off limits, (—).” she said as she drank from her carton pack that contained the remaining bits of apple juice she had. “i understand, but i don’t know if i’ll be able to not think he’s cute.” you chuckled. “i don’t care, as long as you don’t act on those feelings of yours. i don’t know how i’d feel knowing my best friend is dating my, brother. out of all people. ew.”

ever since the discovery of jiyoo’s extremely cute brother, you have been trying to spend more time at her house. sometimes she knows about your intentions, sometimes she doesn’t. but every time you can’t help but feel bad. deep down the both of you know that the only reason you’re at her house these days is so you can get a glimpse of jaemin making his coffee in the kitchen as he brushes his hair back, wears those grey sweatpants with that nice fitting white t-shirt of his. or to accidentally bump into him as you make your way to the bathroom to wash your hands.

it was one of those days where you excused yourself to go to the bathroom in hopes of bumping into jaemin. sometimes you wondered why you were this desperate, you’re sure that you won’t even be able to talk properly if he looks at you, let alone greet you. but trying didn’t hurt did it?

and just as you predicted, jaemin emerged from his room, presumably making his way to the bathroom. as he noticed you just leaving it he stopped to send you a short smile. “hello (—)” he greeted you with a grin. sometimes you wondered if he knew about your intentions. there were times, when the two of you would make eye contact, where he’d send you a smile that seemed to understand and see through your plan, and knew what you were trying to accomplish. grins, like the one he was giving you right now, made you wonder if he was just messing with you.

“you okay there?” he asked, moving his face in front of yours to see if you were okay. you snapped out of your thoughts as his face was just a few inches away and jolted back. “ah yeah, i’m… fine.” he chuckled before standing straight and walking ahead. ‘cute’ he said as he walked past you and placed his hand on the top of your head, slightly ruffling it.

“he called me cute.” was all you could think of for the the rest of the day and the up coming days too. you had a sickening grin on your face as the words replayed in your mind and jiyoo started to grow worried. “are you fantasising about my brother again?” she asked in a disapproving tone. you looked at her, grin still on your face. “no.”

it was a friday night when jiyoo asked you to have a sleepover at hers, and obviously, you couldn’t decline. not only did you miss spending time with her, you got to see jaemin the next morning, voice probably five times deeper than it usually was, for free. how were you going to miss out on that opportunity.

when dinner came by, the two of you decided to eat with jiyoo’s parents as they requested you to do so. as you waited for the food, you wondered where jaemin was. jiyoo must’ve caught on as she kicked you from under the table. “ow??” you yelped out, sending her an irritated stare. “sorry, your mind seemed to be thinking of stuff it shouldn’t.” she warned you with a grin. you rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but chuckle a bit.

soon enough he joined the table, and as if your wishes were granted, he took a seat next to you. you studied his appearance for a moment. it seemed like he had just woken up from a nap. his hair was still messy and eyes weren’t fully open. he turned to his side and noticed you before sending you a smile.

as dinner began, you couldn’t help but feel the need to try and look as appealing as you could for the guy next to you. as everyone started to have conversations, you noticed how quiet jaemin was. you turned to your side to see that he was looking at you already. “is there something wrong jaemin?” you asked him.

instead of giving you an answer, he leaned in and you almost panicked. “what are you-” you were about to panic, until you felt his soft hand brush a strand of hair behind your ear, lingering there for a bit longer. “sorry, it was almost getting in your food and it kind of bothered me.” he gave you a smile before going back to his food. if only he knew how much that affected you.

you excused yourself to go the bathroom and splashed some water over your face and you felt it burn. “this is insane.” you muttered. how could a guy you barely knew have such an effect on you when you haven’t even had a proper conversation with him yet? it was strange.

“you alright?” you heard the deep voice you had grown used to behind you speak. still, you jolted your and turned around to see jaemin leaning next to the door, sending you a soft smile. “yeah, i’m okay.” you said, holding onto your cheeks to still feel them burning.

there was a silence that was rather awkward and unsettling. “i… should we go back?” you asked him in hopes of escaping this situation. instead he moved himself so that he was in front of the door, allowing no access in or out. “i know you like me, (—).” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. “you… do?” you asked, slightly taken aback by the sudden mention of it. non the less, he nodded.

“i also know how jiyoo has told you how i’m off limits.” he said, and you slowly nodded along, wondering what he wanted out of you. “she told me the same thing when it came to you.” at this point you were trying to decipher if his words had any double meaning with the way he was speaking.

he took a step closer so that he was in the bathroom with you, and brought his face closer than you’re used to. “good thing i’m not one to follow stupid rules, and even better that i think you’re cute too.” he suddenly confessed. just like that he left the bathroom, not before he send you a teasing grin as you stood there with your mouth open in shock. he likes me too. was all you could think of at that moment.

having a best friend with a hot brother who is off limits is always going to be disappointed. but having a best friend with a hot brother who is willing to break those rules for you is different. and just like your best friend said, out of all the people in the world, you had fallen for her brother. the same brother who was currently laying with you in his bed as he spoke about his day to you. there truly were no limits when it came to na jaemin.

thank you for reading!

#ouchie my heart he’s so djfhfhdjjdjdhdjkxhfhhdkxkdjd #nana #jaemin fluff #fluff

[faesficfix]

better than your next (i'm the next) — TEASER

PAIRING — Na Jaemin x Fem!Reader

synopsis: you should have known your penchant for fueling your motivation with spite will come and bite you in the ass one of these days. It all started the moment your ex-boyfriend came back from studying abroad, 2 years after the break up. Normally, you would have just gone about your day. He was someone of the past, you didn't think he was that important to lose your complete cool over. Well, that was until you found out he wasn't exactly faithful during the duration of your relationship and being the spiteful bitch that you are, you didn't want him having the last laugh.

Enter Na Jaemin, your best friend’s recluse of a roommate turned boyfriend and this is the story of how you bit off more than you could chew after a heated kiss with your (fake) boyfriend.

GENRE — one-shot, fake dating au, coffee shop/café au, strangers to lovers, aged-up (they’re all out of college), fluff, comedy (crack treated seriously), mild angst, (more to be added).

WARNING(S) — crude language and humor, suggestive themes (might change as I write tbh)

WORD COUNT — I’m just gonna say 10K even though that’s a fucking lie 💀 but this preview is like 2K long lol

RELEASE DATE — late November or early December!

ADDITIONAL NOTE(S) — this fic takes place in the same world as Hot & Cold, only it falls into place years later--but reading it isn’t necessary! This is a stand-alone, though there are times where I will reference a few details from it! MC works as a barista/baker/patissier for a café, Jaemin is in his 3rd year of residency so yeah, everyone is definitely aged up for plot reasons.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — this is basically the result of the Jaemin brainrot I'm still going through 🤕

TAGLIST: send an ask or reply here if you want to be notified once it's posted!

“A plan centered around revenge?”

You winced, wrapping your fingers around your warm cup, “yeah, saying that out-loud makes me sound like an evil bitch.” and you were. Sometimes, with reason.

Jaemin quickly stopped you on that with some level of understanding showing on his face, “no, no, it’s interesting. I’m interested. I thought you were just looking for a pretty face”— he made an intricate gesture around his face for emphasis —“to bring to a wedding, or something. You know, get the nosy parents and relatives to back off, that sort of thing—but this is far more intriguing. Am I allowed to ask for the back story?”

And who were you to say no to someone who was visibly invested in what you have to say? Especially when this silver-haired dreamboat was asking, damn.

Jaemin gasped once you told him everything he needed to know. You may or may not have upped the victim card a little bit to earn even more sympathy points, though you weren’t too sure if it was from genuine surprise or if he was dramatizing just for show. Either way, you appreciated his unwavering attention. Patron of the bare minimum, remember?

“With the same girl? He was seeing her behind your back and now he’s out and about with her?” He looked scandalized by the tid-bit too, rightfully so. Jaemin was kind of giving ‘the nosy auntie that lived two doors down’, and you were kind of into it. Unfortunately.

The thought brought a slight smile to your lips, huffing out a laugh when Jaemin noisily sipped his coffee which just furthered the gossip-obsessed auntie image, “trust me, I’m still shocked as you are.” You joked.

It did sting less now that you were talking about ‘the affair’ for the second (third?) time and you didn’t want to make him feel as if he had to do it, disregarding the fact that you kind of made yourself a little pathetic in that regard. Though you weren’t expecting for all that to work, it was quite disarming when one of Jaemin’s hands reached out to rest on top of yours.

“Oh, Y/N,” and you looked up, blinking when Jaemin stared at you with round eyes filled with something akin to… pity? No, whatever it was, it didn’t make your skin crawl, nor did it push you into raising your walls to keep him out. It was closer to sympathy, maybe. “I’m so sorry you had to find out that way.”

It was rather sweet, though. The steady outpour of compassion wasn’t exactly on the list of what to expect out of this conversation, much less coming from a person who was essentially a stranger to you, but it did help soften the initial cutthroat impression he had left when strutting towards where you were, dark eyes set with purpose.

The Jaemin then intimidated the shit out of you, and that was coming from someone who had been called that most of your life. He strode in with that self-assured gait, face set into a blank slate like he just knew the world would be watching him and Jaemin wasn’t exactly far off, not when everyone in de Vue almost broke their necks for the sake of getting a good look and well, Café de Vue was a world of its own, so to speak.

This Jaemin however… you were kind of starting to see why Jeno said he'd be perfect for this.

Jaemin listened to every word with rapt attention with the straw stuck in his mouth, only taking a sip whenever you paused from talking. That meant he was very attentive. Check. He smiled as if he were a little in love, like it was second nature to him with how he made it easy to feign adoration. Check; it showed in his eyes too, full of featherlight fondness that you wondered if there were people who had fallen a little in love at the sight of them—if they had fallen a little in love at the mere sight of Jaemin himself. Check.

And pleasant as Jaemin had been so far—pleasant than what you had initially expected from a social recluse—you couldn’t help but let your apparent distaste show towards the slew of words he’d vocalized with a dismissive snort.

“If you can find a way to get my ex to tell me that, then you won’t have to be my arm-candy,” you said with a crooked grin. “but since it looked like he didn't care—not that he knew that I knew—well, here we are.”

“Here we are.” Jaemin echoed, a smile still present and maybe you did kind of melt a little, but nobody needed to know that you were kind of a sucker for pretty smiles in general, to the point that the confidence you had displayed when lying about being in a steady relationship was nowhere to be found.

Lack of confidence aside, you refused to let yourself be dumbed down to a bumbling idiot in the presence of someone who was essentially close to being a real life Disney prince, clearing your throat as if that would help quell the warmth of embarrassment from traveling neck up.

Though you figured your face probably gave away your nerves and if Jaemin picked up on that, he didn’t comment on it. “You know, sitting right here with you just made me realize how crazy this is.”

You knew it was. Anyone in their right mind would agree, but Jaemin didn't appear to be put off by the fact. The dead giveaway being the impish glint alight in the deep pools of his eyes. You had no clue what that could possibly entail, yet the way he looked right at this moment gave you this strong urge to shove a fist into your mouth. You didn’t. You looked stupid enough as is and you refused to further soil your reputation.

“That makes two of us then,” Jaemin said, voice light and airy as he rested his cheek onto his fist, blinking slowly. “maybe I’m just as crazy if I came all the way here to hear what you have to say. Jeno did make a compelling argument.”

Did he now? He didn’t make you sound desperate, did he? “It was the eyes, wasn’t it?” Jeno had this habit of using his eyes to his advantage, mostly as a last resort if he thought words wouldn’t be enough to persuade. Most of the time, they worked, otherwise the puppy dog eyes wouldn’t be as popularized as it was in this day and age.

Jaemin’s slow smile was already an indication that the assumption was true, pulling out a fond sigh from you. “Right. What’d he say?”

“Oh, something about a pretty girl possibly needing my help,” Jaemin shrugged, his gaze straying to the side for a moment or two before it trained back on you. You burned underneath the intensity of his eyes, even more at the passive compliment (?). God, you don’t make them like that anymore, do you? “Lucky for you, I’ve never had the heart to say ‘no’.”

You blinked once. Twice. Three times before letting out a breath. That’s a yes, if it wasn’t already obvious enough with Jaemin’s riddle-speak that you somehow had no problems working your way around. Even with all of that, you still wanted to hear what Jaemin had to say. You were asking for too much after all, and you were more than ready for him to decline.

“You really don’t have to say yes,” but some part of you wanted him to. Why? You didn’t know either. “I did tell you it’s a stupid plan and I’m giving you an out. You at least deserve a choice.”

“And I already made my choice, Y/N. Are you really going to say ‘no’ to a willing participant?”

The laugh you let out was a little crazed. Whether it was a reaction towards the unwarranted use of the pet name or Jaemin’s earnest, it still left you feeling a little delirious. Like you starred in a sitcom where you were the character that took the brunt of comedic humiliation.

“You’re crazy.”

“Mm, I think we’ve already established that part.”

“I don’t even have the details laid out yet!”

“What, like being a boyfriend is hard?” He arched an eyebrow. “I just gotta listen to you. Maybe let a lovesick smile or two slip to keep people complacent and act a little obsessed with you. People eat that shit up these days. I would know. I have Tiktok and seeing comments of people wanting to kill themselves over a couple in love means they’re doing something right.”

At the mention of the godforsaken app, you figured Jeno saying Jaemin was a total social recluse was a farce, or else the way he was running his mouth about couples on Tiktok was just a hallucination. It wasn’t. Jaemin was still making a point as if he was the one trying to convince you to be his fake girlfriend. Good to know he was comfortable with you, or you would have probably found some other way to transcend into the afterlife so you wouldn’t have to do this.

But no, you’ve already committed to it, committed to show your ex you were thriving with a pretty boyfriend hanging onto your every word. He didn't explicitly mention it, but you could tell that he wanted proof and Jaemin was literally quite there, offering himself as proof on a silver platter.

Lord Almighty, what has your life come to? Seriously.

“Okay, okay,” you raised a hand to cut him from his tangent, “what’s in it for you if you do agree to be my fake boyfriend?”

“The experience,” Jaemin said with utmost earnesty. You gave him a bland look for that.

There was no way this guy didn’t date around. Nope, you refused to believe it. Jaemin probably got bitches left and right just for batting his ridiculously long eyelashes. He completely ignored your silent judgment though. Touché.

“What? It’s not everyday that I get my Wattpad moment—“ Wattpad moment. What the fuck. “—getting asked to be someone’s fake boyfriend.”

Yeah, ‘cause they probably asked you to be their boyfriend for real instead. You seethed.

Not minding how your face darkened a smidge, Jaemin went on, “so the experience is a must. Also,” his eyes sparkled, gazing at you, “free coffee! You do work here. What’s the point of having a barista girlfriend if she doesn't give me free coffee?” 

“If you’re thinking I’m giving you six extra espresso shots as my fake boyfriend, it’s still a hard no.”

“Don’t I get some kind of privilege being your eye-candy?” Jaemin pouted, “at least an extra shot to make it four?” The pout was then followed up by his eyes becoming rounder and shinier the more you stared. He jutted his bottom lip out further. God you could only take so much .

“I could do that, it's just—don’t you want anything else worth more than that? Like financial compensation?”

“I know I’m irresistible and all, but being an escort isn’t exactly my line of work.”

You choked on your drink.

“You know what I mean!” You exclaimed in between coughs, earning a few pairs of concerned eyes.

Jaemin barked out a laugh, “I’m just messing with you—and really, just the extra espresso shot is enough.” He took a moment to observe the doubtful expression that twisted your face, humming a short, low tune before shrugging. “But if you insist, I’ll cash in a favor from you once I think of something.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” You could only hope that he won't rope you into doing something weird. From the time you’d spent talking to him, getting to know him while at it, it would be more than likely. “So that’s a yes? Once you say yes, there’s no going back.”

“It’s a yes,” he nodded. “unless you’d be able to find someone better than me?”

You shook your head.

Other than the handful of people within your circle, any other names were lost to you the moment you closed that god forsaken notebook of yours, more so that you had finally had a face to a name. Plus, Jaemin seemed very eager with the setup which gave you some kind of reassurance, but you surmised that as him being desperate for a ‘Wattpad moment’ when you both knew damn well it was your moment, so to speak.

“You’re all I have,” you mumbled, peering at him over the rim of your mug.

That was a mistake. You didn’t mean for him to hear that and when Jaemin all but stared at you with his eyes widened a fraction, you considered high-tailing out of there to hide in the kitchen. But before you could even plant your feet firmly on the ground to do just that, a smile soon slipped through, softening Jaemin’s face, which in turn alleviated the panic you were starting to feel.

A breathy chuckle escaped him, cocking his head with his smile growing significantly wider as he gently patted your hand.

“Then you’ll have me.”

#keep an eye out