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#au nct dream
jaylaxies · 6 months
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THE ONLY EXCEPTION
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PAIRING: haechan × fem!reader
GENRE/CW: smut, brother’s best friend trope, fluff, slight angst, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cunnilingus, penetration, breeding, usage of nicknames, themes of jealousy, mentions of mark (brother) and other dreamies, mentions of yunjin from le sserafim, Imk if i missed anything!
WORD COUNT: 10k words
SYNOPSIS: mark was an overprotective brother and he didn’t fail to show it, warning all the guys to stay away from you, his best friends were no exception. so, how will you make it work when you return back after graduating school, only to find that your crush is paying more attention to you than ever? it most certainly doesn’t help that it’s lee donghyuck, to whom, you are strictly off limits.
WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni
A/N: hihi, my loves <3 i finally wrote a fic for the loml hyuckie <3 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33
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The music blasting from the speakers, reverberating around the room full of university students, the wretched smell of alcohol mixed with cigarettes lingered in the air as your sharp eyes adorned with perfectly winged liner focused around the room, greeting everyone who was shocked to find you at the party. 
It felt good to be back. 
Leaving for a boarding school wasn’t on your bucket list, yet it was an opportunity you couldn’t miss, the school being a prestigious one with a degree that would only be helpful in the future, which left you no choice but to disappear for three years, only to suddenly reappear today, straight making an appearance at the party. 
“Told you, your celebrity status is still intact,” Yunjin winked at you, her being the only friend who was stubborn enough to not break contact with you, and you loved her for the same. 
Raising your brow at her, you took another swing of beer which you had loosely gripped in your hand, “it’s not mine, it all belongs to my brother,” you said, “I don’t want this attention, especially when it’s only valid because I’m Mark’s sister who had a glow up over my time of not being in the town.”
Your brother was well known in the university—the same university which you’d be attending soon along with the people who also attended the same middle school as you, however, his reputation preceded him as he, along with his friends, had turned into the group all girls desired to be with, yet they never let anyone stick around for long. 
Settling down wasn’t their forte. 
People snogging around every corner of the house wasn’t a sight you were willing to witness, granted you had a long flight and were tired. Not having any ride back home was another factor which made you approach your brother—who wasn’t locked up in a room with some girl for once. 
“I wanna go home,” you huffed, standing next to Mark, who was quick to excuse himself from the conversation he was having. 
“I can’t drive you back, I’m buzzed dude,” he says, “my baby sis is all grown up,” he looks your way, patting your head before you step back, disgusted at his overly affectionate big brother act. 
He acted as if everything was normal when in reality, he was the one who always deprived you of every single thing, not allowing you to go out, not allowing you to meet boys, and most importantly, not letting his friends interact with you.
“Ew, drink this and sober up.” You passed on the water bottle in your hand to him, “how am I supposed to go back? Should I take a cab?” 
“No, that’s not safe. You wait here, I’ll get my friend to drop you off,” he asked you to wait by the front door. 
The shock on your face was evident, yet it was better to get a ride with one of his friends rather than fending for yourself this late at night. With a nonchalant nod, you walked away, waiting by the door. 
It wasn’t hard for Mark to find his group, they were sprawled across the sofa as if they owned it, surrounded by girls sitting around them; or on their lap. 
“Who’s not drunk here?” He asked, straight up eliminating Jeno from the list, who was taking big gulps from his can, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “minus Jeno.”
Haechan was quick to ignore the girl who was leaning down to kiss him, eyes tired yet lined with the perfect amount of eyeliner—a look he went for whenever a party was concerned. 
“I am sober. Driver duties, why?” He asked. 
Even though there was nothing but truth in his words, it would be hard to accept it, provided that his eyes were the perfect shade of brown which harboured the ideal amount of brightness during the day, and just the exact amount of intoxication at night. 
“I had one beer,” Jaemin said, sitting with a bored expression on his face, probably not in the mood to entertain the girls at the given moment, unlike Jeno and Renjun, who basked in the attention of them. 
“Y/n wants to go back home,” Mark explained, grabbing another can of beer, “and I obviously can’t go to drop her off.”
“Y/n? Is she back?” Hyuck asked, playing with his silver rings before unbuttoning the top of his black button up, exposing his chain clad neck and clavicle, which was valid given how hot the room was. 
“Yeah, she came back in the afternoon today. Jaem can you drop her back home?” Jaemin chuckles at the offended look Haechan threw his way. 
“Of course man,” Jaemin agreed. 
“He’s drunk too, in case you overlooked that, I’m the sober one right now,” Hyuck said, pointing out the obvious. 
“Yeah, dude there’s no way I’m letting you go alone with my sister,” Mark laughed, “lord knows you can’t keep it in your pants,” he added. 
Hyuck was quick to raise his eyebrow, scoffing, pushing his tongue inside his cheek, “and he can?” He asked, pointing at Jaemin. 
“He knows where to draw a line, unlike you, and she’s my baby sister, I’m not risking anything,” Mark explained enthusiastically, as if it was a joke, because it caused an uproar of laughter, which only infuriated Hyuck more. 
“I know when to stop,” he said, annoyed. 
“You didn’t know that when you fucked principal’s daughter,” Jeno provided. 
“And when you did so in his office, with cameras installed,” Renjun not so helpfully added. 
Hyuck agrees that they were right to a certain extent, but their lack of trust was always something that bothered him. If there was someone who actually didn’t know where to stop, that would be them, because he did not appreciate the insults thrown his way. 
It also didn’t help how he genuinely wanted to see you, but now his mood was ruined, courtesy of Mark. 
Mark then proceeded to list out a few more things as to prove that Hyuck wasn’t fit for being anywhere close to his sister, “I don’t trust you with her,” he shrugged, asking Jaemin to drop you off and ending the conversation. 
Meanwhile, it had been a solid seven minutes and twenty six seconds since you started waiting for Mark’s friend to come and pick you up, and you made sure to put the time into good use by observing your surroundings yet again. 
In the farther right corner, you spotted your old crush, Park Sunghoon, who was in your ethics class. He never paid attention to you, granted your brother made sure to warn the whole school population that you were off limits. 
You couldn’t deny, it was good to see him happy and you swore you noticed him giggling too, talking to your old classmate, who you remember, was called Moon—one of the beauties of your school, before he pulled her into a sweet kiss. 
Your observation was cut short when one of Mark’s friends, whom you had not seen in the past three years appeared in front of you with a small smile. Na Jaemin, he was charming from the bottom to the top. 
“Welcome back, Y/n,” he smiled, voice slutry, which came naturally to him. 
You offered him a smile in return, shamelessly checking him out, he had gotten buff. You were not expecting him to come here, but then again, your subconscious wanted to see that one boy whose eyes reminded you of honey. 
You wondered how he looked now. Does he even remember you? A sigh left your glossy lips as you admitted that you still might have a teeny tiny crush on Lee Haechan after all this while, and deep inside, you wished to see him again. 
With a smile, you followed him to the car as he engaged you in a conversation. It was probably the first time he had been given the permission to interact with you, and even he couldn’t deny, he loved to see the development, the confidence that you had come back with. 
While you were getting back home, Haechan was fuming with anger, kicking the pavement as he had left the party, his mind formulating ideas for a plausible revenge against everyone. He was rebellious, he’d give himself that, yet in the depth of his heart, he meant well, not wanting to hurt anyone intentionally, only for the sake of having unharmed fun. 
It wasn’t as if his friends were any different, so why should he be the one who’s labelled to be the worst of them all? This time, he wanted to hurt someone on purpose, the someone being Mark Lee. 
Solution? Get as close to you as humanly possible—which would also mean that he’d have to work to get a place in your heart. But he didn’t mind it, especially when he had liked you all this while. 
Mark wanted him to stay away? Tough luck because Hyuck wanted you. 
Thinking about you reminded him of when you first met through Mark, he had priorly informed everyone to stay away from you, despite the fact you were in fifth grade, almost isolating you from the world. However, it wasn’t enough for Hyuck to stop greeting you with his gummy smiles, which caused you to smile back at him too. 
That’s the most exchange you guys have had over these years. Hyuck was gonna change that, and so, he found himself walking towards your house, knowing well that Mark won’t be around to stop him, and your parents would be deep asleep given that it was past midnight. 
Climbing up your room wasn’t hard, especially when he was aware of the ladder kept in your backyard, but being silent after entering your room through a window was tough. 
The lights were dim, just how you liked it when you slept. With a few steps, Hyuck reached your bed, eyes fixated on your sleeping figure. 
A small, genuine smile graced his face when he noticed the small pout on your moisturized lips. Adorable—that’s how he perceived you, yet there was no denying how much you had grown up to be prettier than ever, and he couldn’t help but caress your cheek with his thumb, even the slightest touch making you stir in your sleep, causing him to chuckle. 
He had to have you. 
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You weren’t sure if it was a dream or had Hyuck actually visited you at night, though, the latter idea seemed nothing less than a delusion. Maybe it was your brain playing tricks with you, but it wasn’t your biggest concern at the given moment as you wanted nothing more than to freshen up and eat. 
What you did not expect was to see your mom catering the four boys sprawled across your living room, the guy in your dream wasn’t anywhere to be seen still. 
“Good morning, sweetheart,” your mom sweetly pulled you in her embrace, gaining the attention of your brother and his friends, who were sitting together playing some video games. 
“Good morning, mum,” you smiled, having missed her while you were away for school. 
“Yo, I almost forgot you were back for a second,” Mark commented as your mom asked everyone to sit down. 
You looked at him with a sour expression, “yeah, right. Cause there was no one to tell you that you’re wearing two different designs of socks,” you pointed out, getting a snigger out of Jeno, who passed you a sweet smile when you looked his way, averting his gaze within a second, a habit of all his friends who weren’t allowed to stare at you. 
“Or that you’re wearing your T-shirt inside out,” you scrunch your nose as others see a very clueless Mark trying to get everything in order, your mom also amused by the sudden liveliness in the home, “no, but how are you this unaware about yourself?” You mused. 
Mark didn’t get to reply or whine when the front door opened to reveal the guy of your dreams, quite literally. 
Lee Haechan came into the room as if he owned the place, your eyes fixated on his messy hair as he said hello to your mother, who was more than happy to see him here. 
Hyuck was her favourite out of all Mark’s friends. 
Other guys were quick to apologize to Hyuck, you wondered why, and Mark had apparently apologized on text last night for crossing the line. 
He looked carefree and unbothered, so you didn’t ponder upon it much till he sat down next to you for breakfast, finally looking in your eyes. 
You blinked once, focusing on his eyes which looked like they had honey swirling around them, his skin was tanned to the prettiest shade as he passed you a small smile, “hey, Y/n,” he acknowledged your presence, lips almost upturned into what seemed to be a smirk. 
For a second, you couldn’t quite focus as you were too enthralled observing the beauty marks scattered across his face, his plump pink lips—
Yeah, that thought shook you awake, “hey, Haechan,” you greeted back, thinking that calling him Hyuck might just be too friendly. 
“So, are we on for our trip tomorrow?” Jaemin asked, cutting your interaction short. 
“Wait, what trip?” You asked, knowing that your parents were gonna be out for a business trip too, and you weren’t one to enjoy being home alone in such a big house. 
“Didn’t Mark tell you?” Your mom asked and shook your head, throwing an accusatory look his way, “They all are having a stay in at Hyuck’s beach house.”
“And me? Am I supposed to be staying alone for what—how many days?” You asked. 
“A week,” Mark informed, unaffected. 
“I’m not staying home alone for a whole week, mum, this isn’t fair.” The distress was clear on your face. 
“Call your friends over then,” your mom suggested. 
“For a week? We’d rather go out for vacation too,” you pouted, not noticing the stare of two boys. 
“Join the trip with Mark then,” she recommended, placing the fluffy pancake on your plate. 
“What? Why? No,” Mark protested and the room bursted into a web of chaos with everyone discussing it. 
Only Hyuck was silent, his eyes still on your face, admiring your side view shamelessly, but also careful not to give out his intentions in front of Mark. 
“It’s a boys trip, mom. Y’know? Boy stuff,” he winced, trying to explain without explaining that all they planned on doing was drink, smoke and invite girls over, “guys, tell them?”
“Yeah—he’s right,” they all agreed, not maintaining eye contact, looking at each other awkwardly. 
“Okay, since the beach house is Hyuck’s, why don’t we let him decide?” Your mom sighs, looking at Hyuck. 
Now that the sole attention is on him, he tries to act clueless with a helpless look on his face, especially when you are looking at him with big eyes, lower lip jutting out in a pout. 
Then he looked back at his friends, who clearly wanted the girl to go, minus Mark at least. Lastly, he looked at your mom, who only smiled, and that was enough of an excuse for Hyuck to say with the sweetest smile—
“Of course, Y/n and her friend are always invited.”
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“He said yes,” you were on the phone, explaining the whole situation to Yunjin, knowing well that she’d be more than ready to accompany you for your rendezvous. 
“He what?” She exclaimed, knowing that the boys would never take your side, especially in front of Mark. 
“I know, mom sorta helped cause Haechan never says no to mom, it’s like he’s her favourite child or something,” a humorous laugh left your lips. 
“Well, he will be once he becomes your boyfriend,” Yunjin gushed, “we’ll make sure he notices you this time, we’ve got a whole week to make it work.” 
You had rushed up the stairs and into your room as soon as the decision had been made, followed by the loud complaints of Mark—which you did not bother to hear, calling Yunjin to fill her in with the situation instead. 
She was packing as you were speaking. 
In all honesty, it never crossed your mind that you would actually want to seduce Haechan, provided that he was Mark’s friend, which would lead to fights you definitely didn’t wish to be a part of, but you were an adult, so Mark held no authority over you. 
There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun after all. 
“I’m not giving you a ride,” Mark deadpanned when you got back downstairs, your mother looking at him with disappointment. 
“I’ll take a cab then,” you rolled your eyes. 
“No need, you’re taking two cars and it’s enough to fit you all,” your mom finally said, “who’s driving?” 
“Me and Mark,” Hyuck replied, voice innocent as you turned to look his way, “Mark is taking the bigger one.”
“Is that so? All boys can go with Mark then. Won’t you give a lift to Y/n and Yunjin, Hyuck?” Your mom asked, knowing he won’t say no. 
She was good at persuasion, unknowingly giving Haechan the full opportunity to be with you, which is exactly what he was aiming for in the first place. 
Haechan only nodded earnestly, eyes almost shining as he looked back at you, “of course, you can ride with me,” he said, ignoring the glare thrown his way by Mark as your name rolled off his tongue, “Y/n.”
As if his voice and gaze wasn’t enough for you to stop breathing in a room full of people, the subtle smirk on his lips successfully had your knees buckling with anticipation. 
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Never in a million years you had thought that you’d be riding shotgun in Hyuck’s car, with him driving and humming along to songs under his breath. You had worn the shortest skirt you managed to find in your closet and the little trick had worked as you saw him staring at your legs when you first came downstairs, announcing that you and Yunjin were ready to leave for the trip. 
Not only did it grab the attention of the boy you had been targeting, but also it garnered attention of Jaemin, who at least tried to act respectful by gulping and looking away. 
Hyuck on the other hand believed that he should blatantly stare at the things which are to be admired, including your legs. 
It didn’t take long for you guys to load your bags into his car, as the other one left ten minutes before you guys. Yunjin wasn’t a fan of long drives—two hours in your case, so she put on her AirPods and closed her eyes the second she got into the back seat, also to give you privacy with Haechan. 
He drove with one hand, the other resting on his thigh. The rings and chain adorning his body caught your attention for a second too long. His hands were definitely bigger than yours, veins popping out whenever he gripped the steering wheel. 
The aura around him was too strong, as if he was a magnet ready to pull everyone towards him, you were no exception. 
“Like the rings, darling?” He asked, eyes on the road with the corner of his lip upturned. 
The question successfully broke your train of thoughts. It was probably the first conversation you had with him, excluding the usual greetings. 
And he kick-started it by calling you darling. 
“They’re pretty,” you replied, not letting the nickname phase you, despite heat creeping up your neck. 
His smile widened at your answer and he swiftly got a ring off his finger, passing it to you—again, without even looking your way. 
“They’ll look prettier on you,” he says ever so smoothly, and you bite your lips, trying to stop the smile from widening as your fingers brush against his, taking the ring and inspecting the design, “don’t wear that in front of the boys though, they’ll flip.”
An amused chuckle left your lips, something which Haechan did not expect, “why? Still scared of Mark and his empty threats?” You asked. 
He pissed you off too much with his don’t come near my sister or I’ll make your life a living hell threat to others, and you were bitter about it. 
“Now, why would I be scared of Mark?” He scoffed. 
“Because you’re one of his friends who aren’t even allowed to look my way,” you said as a matter of fact, breath hitching the second you felt his fingers on your thigh, the warmth of his palm juxtaposing the cold metal of his rings. 
The car was stopped at the red light, “I’ve always looked you in the eye, sweetheart,” he whispered, confirming his statement by turning his head and staring right into your eyes, the tension palpable as your gazes locked, the look being too alluring for you to break the eye contact. 
His whole demeanour changed in a second when his serious expression morphed into a sweet smile, the kind that makes you melt right before he shifted his focus back on the road as if he hadn’t just provided you a sliver of hope about him being interested in you. 
He, however, didn’t bother moving his hand which was gripping your thigh lightly, his fingers were long and looked exceptionally pretty on your skin. You couldn’t help but look out of the window, trying not to let your thoughts get out of hand. 
It certainly didn’t help that he was singing explicit romantic songs with all his might while your best friend was sleeping peacefully in the backseat. 
Haechan loved every single reaction he got out of you, your little shivers when he caressed your thigh, your breath hitching for the very same reason midway a conversation, and your sweet blabber as you he initiated a conversation. 
“How was school?” He asked after a while. 
The conversation flowed smoothly after, the ride wasn’t long after all, his hand caressing your thigh throughout the journey, and you wished for it to be longer. 
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The beach house wasn’t a house apparently, but a mansion with how grand it was. Meaning, everyone would easily get their own rooms. Mark’s car was already parked as they reached earlier, but you saw Jaemin coming out when he heard the sound of Hyuck’s car, helping you take the bags inside with his ever so charming smile while Yunjin and you silently gushed about the beach view. 
Others were busy preparing for the party that was to be held at night—which was news to you. 
The interior was in the shades of black, white, and greys, matching Haechan’s personality in a peculiar manner, given that he was filled with colours of all sorts. 
You and Yunjin selected the adjacent rooms on the first floor, the balcony giving you a pretty view wasn’t something you’d want to miss out on. Haechan occupying the room which was right in front of your room is another thing which boosted your excitement. 
The next few hours flew by as you rested on the beach with Yunjin, soaking up warmth of the sand with the cold ocean waves reaching your toes. It felt peaceful. 
“So, what are you gonna wear to woo Haechan today?” Yunjin asked, sipping on her iced beverage. 
The sun was about to set, your eyes never leaving the sky which displayed all shades of red, yellow and orange, “what do you mean?”
“I mean that there’s no way they won’t be inviting girls, it was supposed to be a boys trip after all to get their dicks wet,” she said as a matter of fact. 
You winced again, not having it in you to watch your brother surrounded by girls. 
“And if Haechan was flirting with you, then it’s your chance to flirt back now, given that Mark would be drunk beyond the point of recovery. Not to mention how you’ll have to do something so he doesn’t stray off and give attention to other girls,” Yunjin listed out. 
She was right, it wasn’t like you were going to get this chance again, “red dress or black dress?” You asked with a playful smile and she squealed, rushing you into your room to help you get ready. 
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The music was blaring by the time you applied the last swatch of lipstick, smacking your lips for the colour to blend in perfectly, complementing your skin tone ever so perfectly. Yunjin doing the same beside you. 
You weren’t sure how they managed to gather all this crowd for a party, granted you guys didn’t even live here, yet who would question these boys, an online invite and people would come running to attend their parties. 
Which was the case at the given moment as well. The second you stepped out from your assorted room, you found Jeno practically eating a girl’s face off with how passionately they were kissing  right beside the door, the music blaring in the background as you tried to overcome the initial shock of seeing your brother’s friend going what you’d consider wild. 
Making your way downstairs, you put on your best confident expression, your eyes immediately looking around, trying to find a certain black haired guy. 
Yunjin stopped you, pointing at the corner of the room where Hyuck was sitting with girls surrounding him, Renjun right next to him, a scoff of disbelief leaving your lips when one of them oh so comfortably sat down on his lap, his arm wrapping around her waist so naturally. 
Yet you couldn’t deny just how effortlessly attractive he looked in that black button up, the first few buttons undone to reveal his chest. The eyeshadow enhancing the look of his eyes to appear more slutry than they already seemed to be. 
Great. This is what you came on this trip for—to see Hyuck tilting the chin of a random girl, shoving his tongue inside her mouth. 
This won’t do, you averted your gaze, going straight to get alcohol, any kind would do, you just needed a boost of confidence to work upon your plan. Yunjin knew exactly what you were up to, winking at you before wandering off in the crowd. 
“Not dancing tonight?” Jaemin asked, standing right next to you as he poured himself a drink. 
His presence made your job easier, especially when he looked so good tonight. His dark hair was a little messy, sleeves rolled up as he was clad in all black, a simple chain adorning his slender neck. 
Perfect bait to get a reaction out of Haechan. 
If he’d bother to look your way, that is. 
“Talking to me tonight? Not scared of my brother anymore?” Your lips curled up, amused. 
That earned a laugh out of him, “he’s locked up in a room as we speak,” he said over the music. Translation: he was busy fucking someone and he won’t be here to monitor your moves. 
Your nose scrunched, not wanting to think about your brother doing the deed. Jaemin walked alongside you as you took up his offer to dance, but also made sure that you could see Haechan clearly with your spot. 
His eyes turned your way for the first time tonight the second you started moving your body along to the rhythm. The distance was fair, yet it felt as if you were the only person in this room and he was the only spectator to your actions. 
Jaemin’s hand came to rest on your waist, your body in sync with his moves, the proximity close and a blissful expression on your face. 
Again, you subtly looked Hyuck’s way, only to find his eyes darker than ever, not straying away from you for even a second, the girl on his lap long forgotten as he couldn’t find a reason to give her his attention anymore. 
Not when you were dancing with Jaemin, not when your dress rode up, revealing your thighs, not when Jaemin whispered in your ear and you giggled, getting closer to him. 
He couldn’t stand it, the muscle in his jaw clenched, his tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek with annoyance bubbling up in his body. 
You turned around, only to find Haechan missing from the spot he was sitting at. All of a sudden, you excused yourself from Jaemin and made your way around the room, to find him again and you failed to do so. 
The room’s atmosphere got stuffy as the night progressed and you made your way upstairs to your room in need of fresh air which was very well provided by the grand balcony. 
Just as you twisted the door knob, getting inside the room, you gasped as Hyuck closed the door behind you, pushing you against the wooden surface of the door, his scent taking over your senses seamlessly as you breathed in deeply. 
“Hyuck—” you whispered, hyper aware of how close he was to you, his body pressed against yours in a way you could feel his torso muscles. His face tilted ever so slightly, just enough for your noses to brush against each other. 
The position alone sent you into a state of frenzy, and he didn’t even let you finish speaking out his name as he chuckled darkly. 
“Didn’t know you were into Jaemin, darling,” he whispered, causing you to gulp down the nervousness, which was of no use as your knees felt even weaker with his slender finger tracing your cheek, stopping right by your lips, “dancing with him while wearing the ring that I gave you.” His thumb caressing your bottom lip, parting it ever so slightly, “doesn’t really sound fair to me now, does it, baby?” He asked, stopping his actions and looking your right in the eye. 
You couldn’t show him how affected you were with possessiveness laced tone, “I don’t see how it’s unfair, Haechan,” you smiled sweetly, keeping your hand on his chest. 
“Wrong,” he said in a beat, “his intentions aren’t pure,” he provided. 
You chuckled, turning your face to the side for a second, “what about your intentions?” You dared to ask. 
His hold on you tightened, “you wanna know my intentions?” He asked, voice so low it gave you goosebumps as he moved even closer to you, his lips on the verge of touching yours. 
They never fully touched, your hand becoming a barrier between you two, “maybe some other day,” you whispered, the expression in his eyes unreadable, “someday when you don’t come here with tainted lips after kissing god knows how many girls,” you smiled tightly, pushing him aside, the alcohol only providing you with unadulterated courage. 
He pulled you back, hand wrapped around your wrist so his torso was pressed against your back, which vibrated with his chuckles, “didn’t know it bothered you that much, pretty,” his lips touched your earlobe. 
“It doesn’t,” you seethed out, trying not to sound breathless as you shrugged out of his hold, “besides, we mean nothing to each other. I won’t stop you from snogging anyone and you can’t stop me from dancing with anyone.”
That’s all you said before slipping out of his grasp, rushing in and closing the bathroom door behind you and breathing in deeply. The feeling of his touch still lingering on your body, he was jealous as you were and he was so close. 
So close to kissing you. 
Hyuck leaned against the door on the opposite side of you, “we mean nothing to each other?” He scoffed under his breath, the image of Jaemin’s hands on your waist coming back to his mind. He was wrong to pay attention to someone else, he admits, but now he was determined to give you all his attention. 
“You’re mine, you just don’t know that yet,” he says, knowing you won’t be able to hear him, “all mine,” his tone was possessive still as he walked out of the room. 
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The boys woke up all hungover the next morning, while you and Yunjin snuck out of the mansion before others woke up, only to avoid Hyuck, which was almost funny given that you were here to get his attention. 
Regardless, you sat in this cute cafe you found nearby, explaining the whole situation to your best friend. The slight smirk on her face gave away the fact that she was proud of you for not giving him attention last night. It’ll only make him want you more, she had said. 
Mark called you right after you finished your meal, “where are you?” He asked, panicked, “don’t tell me you got kidnapped,” the horror was clear in his voice and you rolled your eyes, not understanding how his brain worked. 
“I literally left a note on the fridge that I’ll be out for lunch and shopping, Mark,” you explained, almost laughing when you heard him say oh. He was standing right in front of the fridge apparently. 
“Right, have fun,” he said, hanging up the call. 
He wasn’t the best brother but he did care. At times, more than he needed to. 
“Okay so here’s the plan,” Yunjin started to explain. She loved giving out ideas and they always worked, which is why you found yourself in the swimsuit store, purchasing the one which flattered your body in the best manner. 
“And don’t lock your room at night. Knowing Haechan, he would definitely give you a little visit after seeing you pull that stunt.” 
The sun was setting and you were almost back at the mansion. You enjoyed the day and it was a great plan to get Hyuck out of your head, even though it wasn’t possible despite the fact that it had been only two days since you came back and met him again. 
Tonight’s plan was to have a bonfire by the beach, grill meat and have a good time. Mark had finally accepted and asked everyone to tone down and make the trip more family friendly, hence the bonfire.  
The place was empty when you got back in, and you saw the boys setting up the barbecue when you changed into your dress before making your way to join them. 
“Remember the plan?” Yunjin asked and you nodded, loving the feel of cold sand beneath your foot. 
Hyuck was the first one to notice your presence, his dark eyes fixated on your figure as you walked towards them, Jaemin being the second one as he smiled your way, to which you smiled back sweetly. 
You still had Hyuck’s ring on as you approached the place where Hyuck and Jaemin were grilling the meat, Mark was sitting down and playing his guitar while Jeno and Renjun sang along to the song, Yunjin being a great singer also joined those three. 
“Can I have a taste?” You asked, looking at Jaemin with hopeful eyes. 
The weather was cold yet the burning stare of a certain someone had you feeling all kinds of warmth, yet you didn’t look his way. 
“Of course, say ah,” Jaemin said, eyes shining as he held the piece of meat for you and you gladly accepted it, your lips touching his fingers in a caress, the juicy taste making you hum out in pleasure. 
In a second, you were turned around, “there’s something on your lips,” Hyuck muttered, expression stoic as he brushed his thumb on your lower lip, “all cleaned.”
You would have laughed at the jealousy had his action not been so intimidating, as if he was warning you not to do this. 
“Thanks,” you said, voice extra sweet before you looked back at Jaemin who was confused at the exchange, “can I have more?” You asked. 
“Here.” Hyuck shoved a plate in your hands before Jaemin could even reply, “enjoy your food,” he said, smiling but his eye twitched in the process, making you bite your lower lip to contain your laugh yet again and you sat down finally. 
“Do you think the water would be cold right now?” Jeno asked no one in general, his intrusive thoughts winning.  
“Why? Wanna take a dip?” Mark asked with a laugh, eyebrows raising once he realized that Jeno was serious about it. 
“It’ll be fun,” he said as everyone laughed around him. 
“There’s no light out here, Jeno,” Renjun said. 
“It’ll be fun.”
“The waves are strong too,” Mark reasoned.
“It’ll be fun.”
“Okay, his vocabulary is limited,” Hyuck said, sitting by you as Jaemin handed over the plates to everyone, Mark sparing a glance to make sure Hyuck didn’t sit too close to you. 
“We can go one hour after eating, just dip our toes in,” Yunjin suggested and you guys agreed as Mark resumed playing his guitar. 
“Have more, Y/n.” Jaemin smiled, giving you more pieces to eat from his own plate. 
Haechan didn’t remember the last time he felt so pissed over something this small, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. It had been two whole days since you made your comeback in his life but those two days were enough for him to want you, granted he did have a crush on you for the longest time, only now it wasn’t just your sweetness he was attracted to. 
“Thank you, nana,” you beamed, the nickname only infuriating Hyuck more while you could see Jaemin blush faintly and you truly wondered how all these goofballs pulled girls so easily. 
“Nana,” Hyuck mocked under his breath, Yunjin noticing the atmosphere and slightly pushing you towards him. 
“You’re doing brilliantly,” she whispered, “he looks like he’ll blow up anytime now.”
It felt nice, sitting in front of the bonfire while listening to others singing. You knew you were trying to make Hyuck jealous yet it was hard not to stare at his face, which basked in the glow of fire. He was already looking your way, noticing how you still had his ring on, which only tempted him to pull you on his lap, yet he knew it was impossible with your brother monitoring his every move. 
“Let’s go into the water,” Jeno repeated, as Mark smirked. 
“On the count of one, two,” he said, and didn’t even finish before your eyes widened as your brother came to pick you up in hopes of throwing you into the cold water. 
Mark was escapable. Jeno on the other hand, not so much and it didn’t help how they both had lifted you up despite your thrashing and whining and ran towards the water. 
“Mark I swear I’ll kill you—” you warned and Yunjin had the time of her life recording this whole scene. 
Renjun continuously reminded the boys to stay safe while also doing god’s work by providing you with the flashlight set on the highest setting from his phone. 
Within a second, you were screaming and thrashing as the boys dropped you into the cold water, laughing and doing the same with a horrified Renjun before rushing towards the mansion, especially Mark, leaving you all cold. 
Hyuck rushed to close the flashlight. 
You were wearing white, and the water only made your clothes look transparent, which is why Hyuck was taking his jacket off, but yet again, Jaemin was quick to wrap his leather jacket around your shivering frame. 
He was glad that you were covered but the annoyance was clear on his face, the amusement long gone even with you muttering and plotting Mark and Jeno’s murder with Renjun. 
Nor did he enjoy the sight of Jaemin taking you back to the villa, acting all protective as if he was your knight in shining armour. 
“You’re making it so obvious that you’re jealous,” Yunjin quipped, noticing how everyone walked ahead of them, rushing to the mansion. 
He laughed out, ending it with a scoff, “I have no reason to be,” he said, voice calm, “she’s mine anyways,” he shrugged, determination clear in his eyes. 
“Wow, you’re not even scared to admit it out loud? What if Mark hears?” She asks and Hyuck’s expression sours. 
“He wouldn’t approve. That’s a given but that’s not enough to stop me,” he shrugged yet again. 
“Okay Mr. Someone is stealing your girl as we speak though,” Yunjin pointed out, a fake sympathetic scowl on her face. 
Haechan hated feeling this way, the feeling where things do not go his way. He hadn’t felt this way since—forever. He had everything he wanted, but not you. Mark being a hindrance is something he considered to be normal till some extent, but Jaemin? That’s unacceptable. 
“I’ll take care of it.”
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It was one in the morning and you were wrapped up in a blanket, sitting down near the balcony to observe the spectrum of stars which you could have sworn were shining. 
Being thrown into the water wasn’t the best experience per se, but you knew it would soon turn into a funny memory you guys would look back at someday in the future. Yet, it wasn’t something you were thinking about much, granted you had better things to ponder about. 
Lee Haechan. 
You well expected him to show at least a sliver of reaction, some sort of outburst during the evening, however it never came. Either he was plotting revenge or he simply didn’t care enough. Or he was trying to keep it in, your mind tried to reason with you. 
You sighed, getting up and closing the sliding doors of the big balcony in hopes of getting a cozy sleep. You needed that warmth after all. Just as you dropped the blanket on the bed, the door swung open—which shouldn’t have happened, given that you were sure you had locked it.
Haechan entered the room, closing the door behind him and you couldn’t help but stand at your place, shocked at his sudden appearance, “how did you—” 
“It’s my place, I can get in and out anytime I want,” he replied, voice smooth, giving you goosebumps as he walked closer to you. 
He was clad in sweatpants and a white T-shirt, the attire was simple, yet he made it look a hundred times more attractive than the usual. 
“Oh,” you breathed out, the dim lights of the room caused his skin to glow a beautiful shade of golden. 
There wasn’t a single ounce of jealousy on his face, rather, he looked content with the setting, settling down and sitting on the corner of the bed, his dark eyes staring at you, the silence louder than ever. 
“Uhm, so—did you want something?” You asked, wincing at your tone as you suddenly felt conscious under his gaze, slightly aroused too, not knowing what he was actually here for. 
He clicked his tongue, looking away for a second before his eyes settled on you for the second time. 
Hyuck gave you no time to process anything as his hands grabbed your wrist, pulling you to him in a single hard tug, which had your body stumbling forward and right on his lap. 
He held on to your waist, helping you stabilize your balance, “what’s wrong, princess? You were so confident, getting cozy with Jaemin, huh?” He raise his brow, letting the possessiveness show on his face, the I don’t give a fuck facade disappearing. 
Your breath hitched with the movement of his fingers on your waist, his thumb rubbing circles on the part where your top had ridden up to expose your skin. 
“He was just being nice,” you breathed out, shivering slightly. 
He rolled his eyes at your statement, a scoff leaving his lips before he leaned in, earning a gasp out of you. His nose caressed yours, and you were scared to move, his lips hovering above yours. 
“Just being nice my ass,” he clicked his tongue yet again, and suddenly you were hyper aware about the fact that you were breathing in the same air, “you wanted to know my intentions, right, princess?” He asked, “then listen, I want you all to myself,” his tone was raspy, your fingers digging into his shoulders for support, “don’t think I didn’t notice your subtle glances towards me, especially when you were with Jaemin,” he chuckled and you gulped, looking elsewhere. 
He was quick to grab your chin, making you look right in his eyes, “trying to get me jealous, darling? Well, good for you, it fucking worked.”
“Hyuck—” you whimper, your body heating up as you realized you were sitting right on his crotch. 
“Shh, bad girls don’t get to talk,” he shook his head, disappointed, “now what do we do about this? Maybe I’ll just have to claim your body to make you understand that you don’t need to make me jealous to have all my attention,” he suggested. 
You could feel the wetness down in your lacy panties and he hadn’t even touched you. Something about the way his voice came out so luscious, something about the way his touch made you feel like putty, something about his eyes made you feel mesmerized. 
“Tell me, baby. Can I mark you mine?” He asked and you felt your heart flutter, his voice was gentle when he asked for your consent, and you couldn’t hold back from wanting him anymore, nodding gently, “use your words, love,” he urged, lips parted. 
“Yes,” you whispered, grabbing on to him as he bit your lip, eliciting another gasp out of you, a teasing smirk on his face. 
“Yeah? You sure you can handle it?” He asked and you tugged on to his collar, impatiently pulling you to him. 
“Let’s find out,” you mumbled. 
Without any more delay, you closed the distance between you both, his hand coming to rest on your nape, tilting your head to kiss you passionately, his tongue brushing over your lips, parting them with ease for your tongue to graze the tip of his own. 
The room felt misty as you continued to kiss, his kisses getting more possessive by second, thinking about how no one else should have you, that you belong to him. He picked you up with ease, putting you underneath him on the bed, his kisses trailing down as you took a deep breath. 
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbled midway kisses, some were long, especially the ones around your clavicle and neck region while the others were feather soft, driving you insane to the point of no return. It only ascended when his fingers finally lifted up your top, exploring the expanse of your skin with teasing touches. 
Your back arched as soon as he caresses the area under your tits, before cupping them fully, leaning back to get rid of your top altogether. You couldn’t shy under his gaze, the way he looked at you only boosted your confidence, as if he was a predator hungry for a meal and you were his precious prey, all ready to be devoured. 
He had no time to waste, his mouth working fast to lean down, swirling his tongue around your hardened nipples, noticing how you react to his each touch, fondling your other tit, hearing you whimper and beg for more, his name chanting on your lips out of sheer pleasure. 
“It’s so fucking cute how your body reacts to every little touch of mine,” he whispered, biting your earlobe in the process, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he stuffed his pretty fingers inside your shorts, chuckling when he realizes how soiled your lacy panties had gotten, “fuck, I wanna taste that pretty cunt,” he says, taking off his T-shirt before doing the same to your shorts, dragging your panties down alongside it. 
You found yourself drooling at the sight of Hyuck’s muscles, he had started going to the gym and the results were clearly visible on his body, but you were ripped out of your thought train when he bit your inner thigh, causing you to clench around nothing, giving you kisses and licks all over, but not touching the part where you needed him the most. 
“P—please,” you cried out of frustration, and he immersed himself, licking a big stripe of your wet cunt, genuinely loving the taste as he hummed with satisfaction, holding your thighs open with his strong arms, “oh god,” you moaned out, causing him to smirk against your wetness, pressing sweet kisses to your clit. 
It felt like heaven when you were being destroyed by the demon himself. 
Hyuck was hard, his thick cock barely containing itself from splitting your pussy into two, but he wanted to see you fall apart on his tongue first, “your cunt,” he said, licking it to make a point, “belongs to me,” he whispered and you nodded. 
“It’s yours—all yours!”
“That’s my good fucking girl, you’re all mine,” he said, his tongue prodding at your entrance, fucking your pussy, which gave you more pleasure than you had ever felt through your life. 
It didn’t take long for you to feel your lower abdomen tightening, your fingers tugging on his silky black roots as he ate you out like a madman, as if he was drunk in the essence of your pussy. With a cry, you found yourself falling apart all over his tongue and he lapped it up, coming to kiss you right after, letting you taste yourself in his mouth. He knew you’d be overstimulated, but that’s exactly what he was aiming for when he finally pulled out his cock. You knew he’d be thick, but you underestimated him still, knowing well his cock wouldn’t fit in your cunt. 
“Gonna claim you mine,” he whispered, intertwining his fingers with yours as he positioned himself on your entrance, “fuck, you’re all mine,” he said, kissing you deeply to absorb all yours moans as he pushed himself inside you. 
Your wetness helped him, yet he had to thrust in a few times to bottom out and could feel yourself clenching around him uncontrollably, loving the stretch and also the fact that he was twitching inside of you. 
His fingers grabbed your hips in a tight hold as he started pistoning into you at a pace which you hadn’t expected, and you were sure you looked crazy with how your eyes were teary, your hair a mess and your lips swollen, courtesy of the boy who groaned and slapped your cunt, fucking you deeper. 
“That’s it, baby, you’re taking me so well,” he praised and you let out broken sentences which he couldn’t comprehend, you were too gone, pushed into your subspace to the point you simply let Hyuck do all the work, moaning and whimpering for him, trying to keep your noises at bay in case anyone wakes up. 
Just when you both were about to read your high, he stopped fucking you, making you whimper out in distress, only to have you flipped with your ass up and head down on the pillow. 
It didn’t take him a second before he was entering your cunt again, fucking you from behind in hopes of giving you the brutal backshots you deserved, to fuck you in a way that you’ll be ruined forever, not even wanting to go back to another guy for their cock. 
This also gave him the perfect opportunity to spank your ass, the hurt only making you clench around him harder. 
“Fuck—I’m so—so close,” you sobbed, voice coming out muffled and Hyuck rubbed your clit to stimulate you further. 
“Go on, baby. Give me everything,” he urged and you both finally let go, groaning and whining as he filled you up with his cum, mixing it with your juices.
It felt as if the universe had blessed you with the highest amount of unadulterated pleasure one could have, and your eyes closed shut as Hyuck lay down next to you, breathing in and out just as quick as you to regain his strength to breathe properly. 
“Y/n,” he whispered, more gently this time, pulling you into a sweet kiss as you smiled into it, finding it amusing that he was the same guy who brutally fucked you not even a few minutes back, “you really are mine, yeah?” He said, caressing your cheek. 
“Yeah?” You asked in a whisper and he nodded earnestly, getting a washcloth and helping you into the bathroom, feeling proud when you couldn’t stand up properly. 
He was sweet. Sweeter than you had ever expected him to be and that’s why you found yourself kissing him again, and again as you both washed up in the shower, turning it to the point you both couldn’t help but giggle, his forehead resting against yours. 
“I really do like you, baby,” he whispered. 
“I really like you too, Hyuck,” you replied, feeling happier than you had ever felt, spending a while in his embrace, talking and kissing and eventually, falling asleep in his arms as you both smiled faintly, even in your deep slumber. 
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Hurt. 
That’s what your body felt the second you blinked open your eyes. Images from last night revisiting you as a montage, a small smile lingered on your face, discarding the fact that you were disappointed, not having Hyuck by your side when you woke up, but then again, it was still better than getting caught by Mark. 
With the support of the bedside tables, you managed to stand up on your wobbly feet, stablizing yourself before going into the bathroom to freshen up, you needed that long bath to soothe down your muscles. 
Now wrapped up in your bath robe, you passed by the door, only to hear the sound of someone arguing. Curiosity got the best of you as you walked back, twisting the knob to open it just the right amount for it to not be noticeable, gladly the door opened seamlessly. 
“Stop playing with her feelings,” Jaemin whisper-yelled, and your heartbeat rose when you saw how it was directed towards Hyuck. 
“Who the fuck even said I’m playing with her?” Hyuck asked, his voice full of exasperation and anger. 
Jaemin scoffed, you hadn’t seen that expression on his face, ever. “So you’re just gonna go around fucking her right after Mark told you, specifically might I add, to stay away from her. What are you trying to do here? Take revenge by proving a point?” 
Your heart dropped hearing that sentence. Sneaking around made sense because Mark would, without any doubts, be against this setting, but what revenge was Jaemin talking about? When did Mark ask Hyuck to stay away from her, specifically at that? 
“That’s none of your business,” Hyuck replied, teeth gritted, “besides, weren’t you the one begging for her attention by putting up your good boy act? We aren’t that different, Jaemin,” he mocked, “you only want her cause she’s Mark’s sister.”
Your lip wobbled at his confession, he hadn’t agreed to Jaemin’s claims yet he hadn’t denied it either and suddenly you didn’t feel comfortable, all the positive energy drained as you rushed to get dressed, to get out. 
You trusted Hyuck too easily, and you knew you’d have to confront him about this, but you didn’t feel like doing it now. You wanted to go back home, alone, to deal with your inconvenience which would bother you for a while now. 
So you did what you had to do: run away from your problems. 
You texted Mark that you’d be taking his car, also mentioning it to Yunjin that you’ll be going back home, as you rushed to get dressed up and sneak out of the place without Hyuck knowing, and you were successful in doing so, sighing as soon as you started driving back. 
Hyuck thought you were sleeping in, and he couldn’t enter your room with everyone being awake and roaming around, especially when Jaemin knew what you two had done last night. 
The reminder only made him smile, as cliche as it sounds, he had never felt this way with other girls, your little confession only made his heart beat faster. You liked him back, and that’s all that mattered. 
“Yo, why did Y/n leave? She’s not picking up the calls either?” Hyuck heard Mark ask Yunjin, who knew exactly what was up. 
“She’s got some work to take care of, you don’t have to worry about it,” Yunjin patted his shoulder before making her way out to the beach to call you again. She knows you want space, but she also knows you like it when she checks up on you. 
Now, that was news to Hyuck, his eyes widening as he rushed to open the door to your room, only to find you weren’t actually there. 
“Fuck,” he mumbled, getting his phone out and calling you, only for it to get declined, “no, fuck,” he groaned, thinking about if he upset you in any way, yet he couldn’t understand why you’d leave, especially when you were so happy when you went to sleep. 
Or maybe she heard you talking to Jaemin, his subconscious spoke up, making him lose his mind and punch the wall next to him, running down the stairs to follow Yunjin, calling out her name which caused her to pause and remove her sunglasses. 
“Where is Y/n?” He asked, breathing heavily. 
“Are you playing with her feelings?” She asked instead of replying to his question, “cause if that’s the case then I don’t care if we’re staying at your mansion, I’ll have to kick and break your baby making machine.” Her smile was threatening. 
“Oh god, that’s not it!” Hyuck was frustrated, “I’ve liked her since we were kids, I'm not joking around,” he said earnestly, “is she upset, why did she leave?” 
Yunjin watched the boy with amusement in her eyes, “you’re so dumb actually. If you like her enough then why aren’t you running after her right now? Get in your car and get your girl, shoo,” she dismissed him and Hyuck didn’t wait to chat about how she shouldn’t shoo him away, rather, he ran to grab his car keys, not paying attention to Renjun who asked why he was in such a hurry. 
Hyuck didn’t want any miscommunications whatsoever, it had been an hour since you had left, and it’ll probably be impossible to cover that distance in a short while so he decided to drive faster and get to your place. 
“Y/n, baby, please listen to me,” he muttered to himself, trying to call you again. 
You weren’t dating. It had barely been a week since you came back, a few days since he had started to get to know this new side of you and he didn’t want it to stop, not when he’s genuinely liked you for so long, minus his fuckboy ways of course. 
Mark had tried to call him a few times too, sensing that something was up, yet Hyuck didn’t pick up those calls, focusing on driving till he finally reached your place, relieved to see Mark’s car parked there. 
He knew there was an extra key under the third potted plant on the entrance, and that’s exactly what he took and opened the door. The living room was empty, which caused him to rush up the stairs to find you in your room, his chest heaving up and down. 
The sudden voice startled you, your mouth going dry at the sight of Hyuck. 
You couldn’t avoid him after all. 
“Hyuck, is everything okay? What are you doing here—why are you here?” You asked, pretending to be okay. 
“Did you hear us in the morning?” He asked, eyes softer than you had ever seen. 
You opened your mouth to speak, but stopped, gulping down your emotions before staring at your feet, “I did,” you whispered, “but it’s fine, Hyuck. The sex was great—”
You didn’t look up while rambling, and it was cut short when Hyuck pulled you into his embrace, warmth spreading all over your body with how he held you close to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so broken seeing someone’s face, and he couldn’t handle that it was because of him that you felt this hurt. 
“That’s not true,” he whispered, holding you tighter, you could feel tears forming in your eyes. 
“N—no one’s ever approached me because of Mark,” your voice came out muffled, and Hyuck leaned back slightly just to look at your face, his thumb wiping the stray tear that cascaded down your cheek, “i felt like no one wanted to befriend me for me, all girls wanted to get to him through me and all the boys were so scared,” you laughed pathetically, knowing that your story wasn’t even sob worthy, “but you were the only one who still talked to me, even if it was just greeting me, asking me about my day,” you let out your breath. 
“Baby,” Hyuck cupped your cheeks. 
“You were the only exception, Hyuck. Maybe that’s the reason I’ve always liked you so much. So tell me, was it all a joke?” You asked, eyes serious. 
“It wasn’t,” he shook his head, gulping down before explaining it to you, “it happened at the party when I offered to drop you home but Mark was against it, thinking that I would use you to only fuck you, but that was not my intention I swear,” he says with a frown. 
“So that’s what you did,” your voice barely came out, it sounded broken. 
“God—no. No. I could never do that to you,” he felt helpless, trying to word his sentence properly, “I’ve liked you since we were kids, and I was heartbroken when you switched schools and cities. But I just got so excited when Mark told us that you were back—I wanted to see you, talk to you, but Mark only gave me a reminder that I couldn’t have you.”
You listened to him, your heart undoubtedly fluttering with how earnest his eyes looked, how the distress of being denied of you flashed clearly on his face. 
You really wanted to kiss him. 
“And when he gave all those permissions to Jaemin, I couldn’t help it. I never had revenge in my mind Y/n. I like you too much to hurt you, and I know we’re not even dating right now, but I don’t want anyone to ruin it for us even before our story starts and I swear to god I’ll fight Mark if it means that I can have you,” he breathed out, cheeks flushed as he had confessed to someone for the very first time.
You broke into a smile despite the tears in your eyes, “you promise?” You held up your pinky finger. 
He laced his pinky finger with yours, tugging it so you stumble slightly, and he takes it as an opportunity to pull you into a deep kiss, his soft lips caressing yours in a possessive hold, promising that he’ll take care of you. 
“Good, cause I was going to be really upset if you didn’t,” you mumbled against his lips. 
He chuckled before saying, “don’t ever run away from me, yeah?” 
You nodded, hugging him back tighter as you felt your anxiety calming down, your smile widening as he kissed your forehead, easing out your worries and you were sure you wanted to give it a try—you wanted to give you both a try. 
Yet another problem lingered in your mind. 
“So, about Mark,” you winced, knowing it’ll be disastrous.
“Shh, we’ll think about him later,” he mumbled, but the peacefulness wasn’t here to stay for long as a loud voice boomed up, indicating that Jaemin had snitched. 
“Lee fucking Donghyuck, I told you to stay away from my sister!” Mark shouted, your eyes widening as you both looked at each other. 
“Fuck, hide!”
Despite the chaos of hiding in your closet, you knew that Hyuck would always be your exception. 
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THANK YOU FOR READING!
TAGGING: @ajayke-reads @jenoslutie @jjaeyuns @heesuncore @celeste-hoon
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© jaylaxies | tumblr
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ohmygs-blog · 29 days
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“miss ur face..”
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hyuckmov · 8 months
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haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 1 of 3
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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) | browse the fic tag :)
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.
-> part 2 here!
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!)
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luvyeni · 2 months
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𐙚 : SELLING MY BOYFRIEND W/ NCT DREAM (smau) ֶָ֢ !
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content warning. hyuck and jisung being dramatic, suggestions comments
authors note. you know i had to a nct dream version 💌 !!
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
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©️LUVYENI
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hannie-dul-set · 10 months
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CAN’T HANDLE THIS — N.JM.
SUMMARY. how are you supposed to explain that you and na jaemin started dating just to prove each other wrong and ended up catching feelings.
PAIRING. na jaemin x female! reader GENRE. strangers to lovers, college! au, matchmaking! au, yet another richkid! au, jaemin is an asshole again, romance, humor. WARNINGS. excessive swearing, a near death experience, drinking and smoking, more than a handful of illegal shit, mentions of vomit, blood, violence, too much sexual tension it’s unhealthy, again jaemin is kind of a dick but he’s an attractive dick, jaemin also likes it when you tell him his personality is trash. WORD COUNT. 16k TAGLIST. @alwayswithjaemin @carelessshootanonymous @sundamariis @nominsgirl @shentingz @jvjsssnaa @neozws @urfavtallgirl @dakneeee @wonforgyu @fullsunbabe @luv4jeno @rxnexxi @argooose @jaemsushi​ @stopeatread​ @lovesuhng​ @jaehyunicrecream @byunbaekcult​ @haedgaf​ @sehunniepot​ @lebrookestore​ @ghouerry​ @lanadreamie @rum-gone-why​ @ririlovesrenjun​
NOTE. upon posting the preview, this was already set out to be a one-dimensional word vomit on my most favorite guilty pleasure— jaemin being a weirdo and an asshole— but as i kept writing, i accidentally gave it a little more depth and development and oopsies. there’s 6k more words than the estimation. but this is still essentially plotless, mindless, and self-indulgent. 
hope you enjoy this characterization of jaemin because i do. way too much. this is the first long fic i’ll be posting after a year of inactivity so feedback would be appreciated haha i’m so fucking nervous to publish this hope u all like it.
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“Do I really have to go with you?”
You see, when your parents told you you were going to have dinner together with the family of your dad’s friend— explicitly mentioning that their son, who just happened to be the same age as you, would be joining— you already knew that this isn’t going to be an innocent dinner.
They think they’re slick. They act like they haven’t already done this five times before. You’re getting sick and tired, and you express your dissent once more while entering your dad’s car, pretending like you have a choice on the matter as if you hadn’t already prettied yourself up as per your mother’s request.
“I’m sure you can all have your dinner without me,” you whine, and your dad starts driving after your mom decides to take the front seat. “I still have an exam tomorrow, you know.” You can’t stop them from hauling you along for the ride, and they can’t stop you from complaining their ears off. The car is already out of the driveway and the directions to Island Prime are being spouted by the GPS. All you can do is be a nuisance throughout the ride.
“We already talked about this, sweetie,” your dad says, eyes on the road. “I’ve mentioned you to Jaehyuck and his wife, and they’d be delighted to finally meet you. They’re bringing their son too so you won’t have to worry about being out of place.”
That is exactly the source of your worries. Na Jaehyuck was your dad’s friend from graduate school and they reunited last month during NSoft’s annual charity gala. Those bougie events always have way too expensive alcohol in the mix, and your dad has a bad habit of running his mouth when he’s drunk. He has an especially terrible tendency of bragging about you when he’s drunk. His favorite thing to mention is how you’ve been class president all throughout elementary school and the time you won a typing contest in sixth grade. You made a vow to never take a sip of alcohol ever again after witnessing his drunk habits firsthand last year.
You try to control your facial muscles, worried he might get upset if he sees the reprehensible cringe you feel at the thought of him bragging about you to Mr. Na. This is the terrible habit that caused this family-to-family dinner in the first place. You weren’t there at the gala, but you can perfectly picture the event, scene-by-scene inside your head.
Your dad went on and on about how much of a responsible, reliable, talented, intelligent and gorgeous daughter you are since you took after their genes. Mr. Na has a son your age— most likely a troublemaker that needs some serious taming. Both parents are too nosy, too meddling, and too invested in their children’s love lives to brush it off. Boom. Match made.
“Darling. Back straight.”
They are seriously so overbearing. They’re great parents except when they make you feel like you can’t take care of your own garbage. You grumble, but listen to your mom’s commands and fix your posture. It isn’t like she’s any better. She takes all the credit for last month’s failed match-up. You can’t even remember the guy’s face.
After their failed five attempts to set you up with their friends’ and acquaintances’ sons and nephews, you expected them to finally give up. You’re twenty-one for god’s sake. You can find your own man if you want to.
“You’ll have wrinkles by thirty if you keep scowling like that, sweetie.”
That’ll be the least of their worries if they try to set you up again. You would try to run away, but you’re already in front of the hotel restaurant and the car keys are in your dad’s pocket. Might as well suck it up one more time. Hopefully the last time.
White lights contrast against the large, sunset-stained windows of the interior, and light music hums from the millwork walls every time you take a step forward, tailing your parents as a uniformed staff member leads you to a hall further inside. Your father details some information about the people you’re about to meet. Na Jaehyuck owns the hotel you are marching into and his wife owns the brand for the light pink coat you’re currently shrugging off to a server.
The three of you are led to the outside of a private booth. The doors slide open and you spot the crisply dressed pair waiting inside with a five-course meal. There is no son in sight. You prepare yourself for the countless amount of fake smiles you’re about to give.
Formalities are exchanged and dinner begins. The four converse over business and upcoming schedules, and you can’t fully digest your meal with the expectation of being soon called into the conversation by one of them. They do. Mr. Na asks where you study. You smile and reply. “NCU. I’m in my second year of Operations Management.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Na exclaims. “What a coincidence. Our son goes there as well.”
Your cheeks are already starting to hurt. “Really? Would you mind if I ask for his name? Maybe I’ve met him before.”
“You might have. Your father mentioned you being quite active in your extracurriculars, so there’s a chance that you’ve said hi to each other at an event.”
Your hope of actually knowing the guy forces down the utter embarrassment of your dad’s irreparable tendencies of mentioning you without fail. He looks too proud for you to break your despair to him. Anyhow, it would be better if you actually know their son. It would make this whole thing less grueling. If their son ends up being Na Yuyeon from your Taxation class or Na Sangmok from your major’s organization, you could just laugh it off with either of them and tell your respective meddlers (parents) that it just won’t work out.
You announce your prayers with closed lips. Please let him be someone I know, please let him be someone I know. Yet the odds are stacked against your favor.
“His name is Na Jaemin. Have you met him?
God disappoints you once more.
Even more than disappoint you. He completely screws you over. You’ve never met Na Jaemin before, but you have heard of him. Your two closest friends have talked about him, and his name has slipped in and out of the halls of your department building despite being from a different major since the day a senior named Song Junho went to class with a bruised face, broken nose, and an arm sling. His name is usually uttered in the same sentence with the phrase “biggest bastard on campus.” Your parents just set you up with NCU’s poster boy for fistfights and delinquency. You want to go home.
“Unfortunately not,” you reply, laughing it off as you reach for a glass of orange juice because even though a raw shot of tequila sounds good right now, you’ve sworn off drinking at the fears of being as loose-mouthed as your dearest dad. You glance at the empty seat beside Mrs. Na, praying that it will stay empty for the rest of the night, else the night will end with broken shards of a wine glass on the floor based on all the rumors you’ve heard of Na Jaemin. “Will he be joining us tonight?”
Your dad gives your mother a look and you hold back a gag.
The jolly smiles of Mrs. Na falter at your mention and she flashes a look of worry to her husband. She raises her wine glass to her lips. “Oh, He’ll— he’ll be here soon, I think. He hasn’t replied to my message yet, but he usually shows up. It would be such a shame if he misses the chance to meet you.”
You’re a mixture of hope and dread. Neither set of parents are subtle with their intentions for their children. It seems like this Na Jaemin has also been victimized numerous times by his parents’ scheming. They are so well meaning in the worst ways possible that you can’t even talk shit about them, so your only outlet for saltiness is Na Jaemin whom you’ve never met before, but have heard enough bad stories about to justify your mental curses. Maybe if he isn’t so much of an (alleged) asshole, then his parents might not have resorted to setting him up with an (alleged) angel like you to fix him up. You’ve heard nothing good about him, and even his parents seem to worry about him. You have enough pieces to puzzle him together as a good for nothing waste of time and energy.
This whole match-up is doomed for failure. The both of you will not work. Never. Not a chance. Not in a—
“You made it!”
The booth’s sliding door opens, revealing the prettiest man you have ever seen in your twenty-one years of life. Holy shit. Your juice almost dribbled out of your mouth.
“Jaemin, come take a seat. Oh, dear. You should have sent me a text, honey. I was worried you were too busy.”
Shit. He’s gorgeous. He’s perfect. He looks like he can murder a man with a look from his eyes and those very eyes are framed by the longest lashes you’ve ever seen. His lips are so pink and pretty that you can almost ignore the scowl they’re forming. The leather jacket framing his body sets him apart from the fancy decor, especially when he sits down exactly in front of you, making it harder for you to pry your eyes off of him. You’re hoping his parents don’t catch you thirsting over their son.
You’ve heard that he’s an asshole but you can fix him. You can change him. You can make him better. Who cares about the red flags when he’s as pretty as this? 
Na Jaemin looks at you with a nasty stare. Your stomach flips. He can tell you to screw off and you would walk home this very instant.
“This the girl you’re trying to set me up with this time?”
Your expression falters, but it’s fine because the way his voice just sounded can forgive the disrespect he just rendered for referring to you without even sparing you a greeting. It’s a raspy flavor, almost a mumble in his throat. One offense— you can take it for now. If he can behave for the next hour or so and prove the rumors wrong, you might actually grace your dad with approval that you’re going to give this a shot.
His mother lights up, giving him your name and a brief introduction.
“Hi. Nice to meet you,” you smile. Jaemin’s eyes stay on you for a good five seconds. This is dangerous. He shouldn’t be allowed to do that.
Heat swirls around your cheekbones, giddy from the prospect of your love life finally flourishing after all those failed matchups. If only Jaemin decided to shut up for the rest of the night, then maybe the heat in your cheeks wouldn’t have shot up into your head and triggered a nerve.
“She’s pretty cute,” he says, and you’re almost hopeful. “But I doubt she can handle me. I’m going. Don’t wait for me to come home.”
Your smile twitches. Oh. Oh, so he’s like that.
His mother tries to stop him, but Jaemin is already up, not caring about the collateral damage of clattering plates and glasses on the table from his careless movements. 
There’s no way you’re gonna let him leave like this after injuring your ego like that.
“What makes you think I can’t?”
Jaemin freezes, his back turned towards you but his neck slowly cranes, revealing the side profile of his face. His eyes are narrow when he looks at you. There’s a subtle quirk of his lips. He breaks into a scoff. “What makes you think that you can?”
God damn, if only he didn’t start acting up, you would be on your knees.
“I don’t know. You look pretty easy.”
Something tugs on the corners of his mouth, then he fully turns around, walking back up to the table. He plasters his hands on the tablecloth, slightly leaning forward that his head blocks the chandelier light and his shadow hovers over your face. “Free tomorrow?”
“I can make time.”
“Great.”
Jaemin leaves behind a choking, arid tension when he exits the booth. You look at your father who seems like he can’t choose between feeling horrifically alarmed or pleasantly surprised. Clearing your throat, you take another sip from your drink before resuming your meal. You’re sure you’re going to get indigestion, but you can’t think of another way to get your parents and his to move on from the events that just transpired.
Eventually, the tension was swallowed by the clatters of knives and saucers and conversations once again. The only conclusion you can come up with is that this time, their matchmaking failed successfully.
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It comes to you belatedly that Na Jaemin technically asked you out on a date— for genuine reasons or otherwise— yet you have no way to contact each other. He never asked for your number and your parents never mentioned anything about another dinner after last night’s concluded. You finish your classes for the day, coming to terms that you’re likely never going to see him again.
There’s likely no ill will between your parents and his despite your little squabble since the two parties invited each other for drinks and seemed at ease when you left. But during the ride home, they were unusually quiet. Usually, they would peg you with questions— what do you think about him? Isn’t he cute? You two would make a good match— and so on, but last night, they steered clear from the topic. You’re not sure if that’s a good or bad sign.
With your two friends in tow, you exit the lecture hall. “Are your photos of the slides complete?” Myung asks, holding onto your arm while Saehee struggles to keep all of her notes from flying out of her binder.
“I think I missed a few. Prof. Seo runs through the slides like crazy. I’ll ask him tomorrow for a copy of the presentation.”
It’s all idle conversation as you three walk down to the lobby. That is until Myung spots someone by the vending machines just as she’s about to grab an energy drink. She swears, “God damn it, what is he doing here?”
You follow her eyes and find her ex right across the lobby. “He’s not even from our department,” Saehee grunts, dragging the both of you to the back exit instead. “Maybe the fucker found a new fuck from our major. Let’s just go.”
While Saehee brushes you away, you manage to snag a quick glance at Myung’s ex again. She barely talked about him while they were dating. You and Saehee only found out about them after she dumped him for cheating. The guy’s name is Lee Jeno and this is the first time you’re seeing him in person.
“Their entire friend group is trash. I seriously should have known better before hooking up with him.” 
Hold on a second. You’re sure you’ve heard people utter Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin in the same sentence before. If they’re part of the same group, then that would make perfect sense. The dots stop connecting when Myung and Saehee decide to ask you about last night’s dinner to deter from any more ex-boyfriend talks. Your shitty dinner match-ups have always been a good source of trash talking, but how are you supposed to tell him that you’re expecting to go on a date with your friend’s ex’s alleged friend? 
“Uh,” you pause, caught in between the fresh breeze outside and the air conditioned surroundings of inside the building. “Well.”
You never get the chance to answer because Na Jaemin and his pretty face decides to show up right outside your building, and your blood runs cold.
Correction. His pretty face that isn’t wearing a helmet decides to show up when he zooms straight towards your department building on a motorcycle with a speed that you’re sure isn’t legal. Well, damn. At least you don’t have to hide anything from your friends. Slowly, you pick up your legs and start walking out the door.
“Fucker told me the business building was the one on the left,” he simmers, hopping off the the bike yells at you. “Let’s go. I’ve wasted enough time already.”
You blink at him. You’re about to add ‘stalker’ to his already trashy reputation, but remember that you told his mom last night about your major. Mrs. Na must have been delighted when he asked about you. You wonder if she’d still be as happy if she finds out her son drives around without a helmet on.
Speaking of motorcycle, his jacket is white today and it looks unforgivably good on him. You would continue staring, but his impatient scowl is already teetering on violence. You forget that your friends are still here, too. “Can you give me a moment?” you ask him.
“No. Hurry the fuck up and get on.”
Myung calls your name. You flash your two friends an apologetic smile before skipping over to Jaemin who’s already on the bike. I’ll explain later, you mouth. For now, you have an ego to protect. 
You look at Jaemin. Then to the seat he’s patting. Then back at him. “Are you seriously expecting me to get on that thing?”
Jaemin almost looks offended when you call his motorcycle a thing. It’s sleek black with some stickers pasted here and there, and you’re terrified of getting on it. Your fear seeps into your expression because the devil in front of you breaks out into a grin. A malicious one. “Thought you said you could handle me, pretty girl.”
He can’t just call you pretty girl and get away with it. He deserves to get his teeth punched out. “How do I get on?”
“You’re fucking hopeless.”
“You say fuck too much.”
“Just swing your left leg over and get on with it.” Following his vague instructions, you manage to get on the inevitable traffic hazard with only minimal struggle. You don’t get much of a warning— he only tells you to hold on tight before the engine revs and you scream and he suddenly speeds into the sunset-lit streets of your campus. This would be romantic if he isn’t trying to mimic a rollercoaster ride.
“Holy shit,” you wheeze through the startling whirs of the wind. “Holy shit, I think I’m gonna die.”
In retrospect, maybe you were a little too impulsive to challenge Na Jaemin without even settling the parameters on what exactly you could handle about him, but he was the one that challenged your pride first. The price of that is a threat to your life in the form of an impending motor accident. Your fists ball against his jacket when he makes a sharp u-turn in the main road and you let out another squeak.
“You’re gonna want to hold on a little tighter than that.”
So you do. To the point where the wrinkles on the front of his once crisp leather jacket make him look stupid, so he takes it off and throws it to his bike after he finally parks and gets off the damn thing. You wobble off right after him, and he’s well mannered enough to assist you— one hand on the small of your back, the other on your arm— but of course, not without laughing when you stumble after landing on the ground. “Good job.”
“Eat dirt.” He’s lucky he looks even better in a plain black tee. 
Once you recover from the fear and adrenaline, you notice that it’s already dark out and Jaemin has brought you to a cul-de-sac outside the district. Brightly lit street lamps and muddy green shrubs separate each large house up the road. There are other vehicles decorating outside the gate you’re currently standing in front of. It opens after Jaemin makes a call.
You didn’t expect your first date to be at some rich kid’s nasty party. You don’t even know whose house this is.
When you turn to look at Jaemin with the most unimpressed stare you can manage, he gives you a little simper, slinging an arm over your shoulder to force your inside. You’re welcomed by someone throwing up in the bush right by the gate. Jaemin laughs at your disgust. “Now I understand why your parents keep setting you up with people. You’re hopeless.”
“You can tap out anytime, pretty girl. I won’t stop you.”
Unfortunately for him, you’ve been to grosser frat parties so you aren’t leaving anytime soon. You evidence your conviction by tugging on his arm that’s languidly hanging over your left shoulder, letting your fingers rest on the bare skin of his forearm. “They probably have a pool out back, right? It’ll be less humid there.”
It catches him off guard. The rest of his features seem to be permanently sculpted into a resting bitch face, but his eyes easily give him away. They widen, furrow, then turn to stone once again— all in a split second with the subtlest difference between the frames. He clears his throat and shoves you off. “Do whatever you want. I’ll come get you later.”
“Where are you going?”
“Have to meet some people,” he answers vaguely. You narrow your eyes at him. “You can come with if you want to be objectified by my friends.”
“I’ll be by the pool. Bye,” you wave him off and start nosing around for their backyard entrance. 
There’s just as many people outside as there are inside and some you even recognize— sparing you a wave and a hi when you spot them— giving you the idea that the person hosting the party is probably from your university. Some people are shirtless, some are downright naked, and the grass is gross and damp from the unsanitary pool water that managed to escape. You settle on an empty beach chair and dump the unknown drink you stole earlier into a bush. You’re pretty sure that the things being exchanged here and there are less than legal. This might actually be a drug party.
This is stupid, you think to yourself. You can’t believe you’re wasting your evening in this shitslam of a place just because Na Jaemin spat on your ego a little. He even left you all by yourself. Of all your first dates, this one’s at the bottom of the list.
Suddenly, there’s a crash from inside the house. Then a yell. Then police sirens. Holy shit there’s a raid.
It takes a moment for you to react. There’s bodies shoving past you, the backyard getting more and more crowded and hysterical by the passing second and you have no idea where to go. Someone shouts your name. Your wrist is snatched and you’re getting dragged to the back fence. The back of Jaemin’s head is a blur as you struggle to keep up.
“Ow!”
Your back hits the chain wall. Jaemin crouches down. “Get up.” You look at him. He swears under his breath. “Hurry up and get up the damn fence unless you want to get arrested.”
The gravity of the situation only sinks in when he mentions an arrest, and a surge of panic buzzes underneath your skin. You step on his hands and you slowly gain height, grappling on the top of the fence as he helps you cross over. There are actual cops raiding the property. You fall to your ass and Jaemin lands beside you not long after. “Hope you know how to run, pretty girl. We need to go.”
You scramble to your feet before the piece of shit decides to leave you behind. The way Jaemin and some other runaways expertly maneuver through a patch of trees to get back into the main road makes you think that it isn’t the first time this happened. It’s a little heartwarming when Jaemin glances back at you from time to time. You’d blush if your lungs weren’t burning. Too bad he suddenly decides to throw you into an alleyway and your back hits the disgusting concrete lining.
“Hey—”
“Quiet,” he hisses, pressing his palm over your lips and looks out into the street. “Shut the fuck if you don’t want to get caught.”
There’s still the slight hum of sirens from a distance. It bothers you. It bothers you a lot. It bothers you that he looks even prettier under the molten silver light from the moonlit night sky. It bothers you that adrenaline and a little something else are fighting over which one gets to control your heart rate. It bothers you that your lips suddenly feel cold when he removes his hand when things become dead quiet— all but that thumping and ringing in your ears.
Shit. He’s perfect until he says something. His stern gaze is frozen on you, your eyes falling down to meet his tightly shut lips. You’d kiss him if he stays still for the next ten seconds. No, even five would do.
“I gotta piss.”
And there goes your infatuation. Into the garbage bin that’s less than two feet away from you. Jaemin notices that you’re staring at him as if he belongs in there. He’s unrecyclable trash. “What?” he raises a brow. “Wanna stay and watch?”
“What the hell? You’re gross and disgusting and a freaking psycho.”
He only laughs. You grimace. The bastard just suggested that you watch him take a piss and he’s laughing. Immediately, you eject yourself from the alley. Much to your relief, he doesn’t do his business in the dark and instead follows after you outside a few moments later and heads to the nearest diner in the street. 
When he returns, he’s a little surprised to see you waiting in the same spot, tapping on your phone as you lean against a light post. “What?” you ask upon his arrival. “You’re my ride home, you creep.” You could always take a taxi, but one— you don’t exactly feel safe riding a cab alone at this time of night, and two— you’re not going to give him any ideas that you were trying to run away.
Jaemin spares you a glance. You give him a questioning look. “The cops probably took my bike already.”
“You’re useless.”
“You’ve gotten pretty mouthy in less than a fucking day,” he snorts, digging his hands into his pockets before deciding to brush past you. “Wonder what else your mouth is good at.”
At this point, you’re not sure if he’s serious or just fucking with you to prove that he’s too much for you. He is. He’s way too much and you can’t decide if you want to make out with him or kick him in the balls.
So you decide to get even.
“Hey, Jaemin!” you jog up to him, going as far as to block his way when he doesn’t stop for you. He only gives you a blank, half-lidded stare. “It’s my turn tomorrow. Meet me at the park at 8 a.m. or I’ll consider you a pussy. Oh yeah, and give me your number.”
“The fuck?”
“I said I could handle you,” you grin, lifting your phone up and giving it a little shake. “I did pretty well today, dontcha think?”
“Get to the point.”
“I mean, maybe you’re not up for the same challenge?”
Before you could blink, your phone is snatched from your hands. You think your phone screen might break with how aggressively he types in his number. You try not to smile too widely because you might look like too much of a maniac. “You’re pretty funny, you know that?” he tosses back your phone. “Just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, pretty girl.”
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When you call Jaemin at 8:04 a.m. asking where he is, he very kindly curses into your ear through the speaker, telling you to “piss off and let me fucking sleep, god fucking damn it,” before ending the call. You have to admit, it had you tempted to call him again— his voice in the early hours of the morning does wonders to the soul, and it nearly forgave him for swearing at you this time. But that would risk him not showing him up at all and that would put your itinerary to a waste. You wait at the park for another hour before he shows up in a matching pair of sweats. He looks like he’s just about to get into a gang fight instead of a date when he approaches you.
“You better have a good fucking reason for calling me out this early.”
“It’s nine-thirty.”
“I didn’t ask for the time.”
“You just wasted a good hour for us to study. Hurry up, let’s go to the library.”
No, you’re not trying to “fix” Na Jaemin by making him do good things. You’re not his therapist. You’re trying to put him through the same shit he did to you last night. Hope he enjoys behaving in the library for four hours. If he leaves before you let him, you’re never going to let him forget how much of a loser he is for not being able to handle an innocent library date.
It’s ten o’clock when Jaemin’s fuse starts to ignite. You even made sure to sit near the children’s section as another control mechanism to prevent him from doing or saying heinous shit, but you’re not sure how effective it is because his resting bitch face is scaring all the children.
“What are you thinking about, Jaemin?” you lazily ask, switching to the next page of your textbook. Attitude is important when negotiating with clients, you mentally read, running your bright neon highlighter on the word ‘attitude.’
“Thinking about how much you’re wasting my fucking time.”
You click your tongue. He seriously needs to work on his manners. “You act like you’re hot shit but can’t even study for an hour. What a fucking loser.”
That was a gamble. Sure, you’ve yelled at him and called him names before, but you’re not sure how well he’d take you actually swearing at him, but you want to push as many buttons as you can. You flinch when you look up from your textbook. He looks like he’s seconds away from punching you in the nose with how intense his eyes are staring you down. You take a hard swallow, nervously pressing your lips together as you slowly return to your notes to avoid his terrifying gaze. When you click the butt of your pen to jot down some notes, he snatches your pad and a ripping sound breaks your shock. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with him?
You’re about to swear at him for real this time, but your notepad is tossed back at you in less than a moment. Jaemin is grumbling curses as he rummages through your pencil case. “What’s the point of all your money if you can’t buy another pen that works?” You’re supposed to be the one mad at him, why is he scolding you?
Like your notepad, Jaemin tosses back your pencil case after he finds a working mechanical pencil. There’s now a mess on the table but he seems unbothered when he places his phone next to the sheet of paper he stole from you, tapping on the screen before he starts scribbling things down.
“What are you doing?” you snatch a glance at his paper. You can’t read his writing upside down.
“What else would I be doing at a goddamned library?”
Holy crap, it worked. “What’s your major?” you ask, scooting your chair a little closer to the table in a tangible burst of excitement from your success.
“Applied math,” he replies blandly. 
The next thirty minutes remain quiet, save for the occasional grunts and grumbles from your study partner as he continues writing, until he asks you for another sheet of paper. Jesus. Oh no. He instantly became hotter. Jaemin’s posture is laid back as he goes through what you assume are math problems, wrist flicking at the stroke of the pen with ease. His eyes are steady on the table, expression more relaxed. Mrs. Na would be sending wedding invitations if she sees how you managed to tame her son. You’re getting distracted from your own work and Jaemin notices.
“The hell are you staring at?”
“You’re prettier with your mouth shut.”
The words leave your lips without thinking and you’re doomed to suffer from the consequences of your thoughtless actions in the very next moment.
Jaemin gives you a flat look. Your heart races. Oh no. The next moment he opens his mouth, you’re horrified. He utters the most heinous, most obscene combination of words you’ve ever heard and your brain can’t even process it to repeat it. He breaks into a victorious grin which shouldn’t be so god damned attractive after scarring your ears. You want to punch him in the jaw but you’re already being ushered out of the library. You forgot that you were sitting by the kid’s section and the bastard’s nasty, disgusting mouth was a little too loud.
Now, the both of you are standing in front of the library right after getting kicked out.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” you jab your index finger to his chest, evidently bewildered. “No, seriously. What the fuck? Are you insane?”
He only replies with a smug look. You really want to punch him. “My library membership could’ve been revoked, you little shit. This is the only good place to study near uni! You’re lucky they let us off with a warning.” Jaemin clearly doesn’t give a damn. He even looks like he’s enjoying your outburst. You let out an exasperated groan.
“Suck it up, pretty girl. You should have seen it coming when you said that.” He’s in a better mood than earlier this morning and it pisses you off even more. Your bitterness is probably seeping into our expression because Jaemin laughs when he glances down at you. He stretches your frown by giving you a pinch on the cheek. “Is that all you have in store? Are you done for today?”
You smack his hand off, shooting him a glare. You’re far from done. You’re going to give the devil hell.
“Let’s have lunch first,” you offer. Jaemin shrugs and follows your lead as you walk downtown. For a pissy rich boy, he doesn’t throw a fit when you mention a hole-in-the-wall pho restaurant by the intersection, but that’s fine. You have other plans for him. The opportunity to conduct it presents itself as you’re both walking down the sidewalk on the way to the restaurant, and your eyes gloss over to his left hand— the hand nearest to you— slightly swinging back and forth in tune with his large strides. Slowly, you reach down to grab his hand. The moment your thumb brushes against the warmth of his skin, he snatches it back. Abruptly.
You look at him, shocked. Jaemin tries to give you his signature look of contempt but miserably fails because his ears are pink and he’s clutching his fist to his chest as if it just barely survived from getting amputated. He must have noticed how weird he reacted, so he clears his throat and drops his hand back down. “Now, where the fuck is this sketchy pho place?”
Oh my god. You just discovered his weakness. This is a bonus.
“Across the street and we make a right,” you reply, making sure your unreasonable excitement isn’t too obvious.
Jaemin is evidently suspicious. You make it to the restaurant, receive your orders, and start eating without a hitch and all throughout Jaemin has been stealing narrow-eyed glances at you. Your chopsticks innocently clatter against the bowl as you finish your meal. When Jaemin finally lowers his guard, you tap a finger on the back of his hand and he pulls back, a little less panicked this time and he sends you a semi-confused glare. For someone who suggested that you watch him piss, he sure has the gall to act scandalized when you’re just innocently trying to hold his hand. 
“Calm down, pretty boy. I’m not trying to make a move on you. I just want to check something.”
You don’t give him the opportunity to retreat this time when you snatch his hand from the table. Your thumb traces over his fingertips, slowly following the crescents of his nails. Jaemin’s ears are pink again when you look at him. “You need a manicure,” you declare. He pries himself off and gets up.
“Hey, wait up!” 
Your shirt catches on the seat so you stumble, a loud noise following your quick response to chase after him, which inadvertently causes Jaemin to turn around and gives you an opportunity to catch up to him. “I already booked a nail appointment while we were waiting for the food,” you announce, latching onto his arm so he doesn’t run off. He doesn’t look too happy when you snatch a glance of his face. You give him a bright smile. “You don’t have your bike with you, right? That’s fine. The mall is just a few blocks away.”
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Just yesterday, you were so inclined to believe all the rumors surrounding Na Jaemin about his shitty personality and violent tendencies. The first one, there is no doubt. His personality and foul mouth can’t even be compared to the toilet seat of a dingy bar, but the second part seems a bit far-fetched— especially when you’re watching as his ring finger gets drawn with a cat head silhouette in white against the matching black paint of the rest of his nails. 
“Wow. That looks like you.”
“Why don’t you just shut the fuck up?”
When he sat down in front of the nail tech after your turn, he got complimented that his nails were pretty well maintained. He shot you a nasty look after that. Maybe you did lie about his nails needing fixing just to get him less fussy about your suggestion, but hey, it worked. You’re cooing at the silver glitter on his middle finger next. His knuckles twitch. When his nails finish curing, he grabs you by the arm and drags you to the counter, pays, and continues dragging you out the nail shop and into the mall lobby,
Jaemin has his nose scrunched. “Any longer I thought I would’ve gotten high off acetone. How do you stand that shit?”
“By imagining how pretty my nails would be after the session.” You flash the back of your hand, showing off your new french tips. He only rolls his eyes and starts heading to a direction— the exit, presumably— and you trail after him. “Are you sulking that I’m not complimenting your manicure? Your nails are really cute. They suit you very well. I wonder who picked the design.”
Na Jaemin really isn’t all that bad if you can get past his resting bitch face and colorful choice of words. He doesn’t complain when you stop by half a dozen kiosks because of the cute accessories that catch your eye. He even helps you choose a new barrette by saying “that one looks fucking ugly,” right in front of the store owner. You decide that’s enough shopping for today and start heading out, but upon seeing the Gong Cha stall right by the doors, your cravings got the best of you.
“Taro smoothie. 100% sugar. I’ll wait outside. I need a fucking smoke.”
See, he can’t be that bad when he drinks raw sugar through a straw. He takes the paper bag that housed the barrette you bought and disappears outside. Maybe it’s not the most ideal time to reconsider your opinion of Jaemin while you’re waiting for your orders, but at this point you’re really questioning the merit of the severe rumors weighed against him. Then again, you did believe those rumors upon first impression, so you aren’t any better. If only he tries to care a little more about his reputation, but from the limited time you’ve spent with him, you’re sure he gives less than damn about whatever people are saying about him.
Jaemin walks in one, straight line and only makes way for others when he wants to. The plastic bag of his taro smoothie and your drink adds weight to you. You stop trying to figure him out and start looking for him instead. He says he’ll be waiting outside but he’s nowhere in your line of sight when you step out the mall. Then it dawns on you.
He just ditched you. You give him a call and the line ends without an answer. Your mood sinks along with the sun, slowly setting from a pale orange to a rich blue violet. In other words, you feel like crap.
This is enough second guessing. All those rumors are true— he’s a fucking dick. It shouldn’t be all that surprising considering he swears at you every time he opens his mouth and he’s friends with the bastard that cheated on Myung. You don’t even know why you questioned it all in the first place. 
You’re livid. You stomp to the edge of the mall right by the parking lot, his sugar injected smoothie in hand, and the sky mellows darker. The lights lining the side of the large building light up. The cup threatens to explode from your grip.
When you reach the garbage bins, the drink slips from your hand. It doesn’t fall into the bin; it prematurely splatters against the concrete, a light purple sludge melting into the floor accompanied by gasp stifling from your throat.
There’s a fist fight in the parking lot.
There was a fist fight. Three bodies are already passed out and purple on the dirty freaking ground.
C—rack!
There are still two more people in the lot, but you can tell that the fight is already over. It’s a one-sided assault ending with Jaemin’s fist colliding against the limp individual’s nose with a sound that makes you wince. Holy shit, this is brutal.
“That it? Pussy ass bitch, couldn’t even take three punches. Hah.”
Jaemin releases his balled fist on the guy’s collar and drops him to the ground. He staggers, nearly stumbling down himself, but his back hits a nearby car and he slides down to the floor with a heavy wheeze. It’s only now that Jaemin notices your presence. There’s a manic shift in his gaze when he meets your eyes. “Shit, why are you—”
The aftermath of his fight drags him back down to the dusty concrete when he tries to pull himself up. You walk to him, crouching down when you reach him, and feel a lump in your throat when you finally take a good look at him. There’s a bruise under his left eye, more on his jaw and, matched with a gash on his forehead and a split lip that was still modeled into an intimidating grimace even when just got the shit beaten out of him. You click your tongue in disappointment.
“Your face is the only thing you’ve got going for you, but you can’t even take care of it.” He breathes out a swear when your fingers squeeze his cheeks to check if he had any more injuries. You’re sure there’s more under his clothes, but that would toe the line of propriety. Jaemin winces. You feel a pang inside your ribcage. “Get up, troublemaker. Let’s get you fixed up.”
He releases a groan when you help him up, and it takes you a moment to adjust to his weight. There’s no way that the security guards will let you back into the mall with a battered man in tow, so you ask him if he doesn’t mind walking to the nearest 7-Eleven. His reply is a mere grunt so you take it as a yes. 
Jaemin is leaned against you, arm over your shoulder which you hold in place, fixing your other hand around his waist as you begin your arduous journey to the damned convenience store before any passerby walks in on the incriminating scene you two leave behind. Your senses are attacked by a mix of cigarette smoke and sweat with a twinge of blood and oddly enough, it doesn’t make you gag. 
It’s a five minute walk. You drop him on one of the empty tables in front of the store before entering to pick up a water bottle, some bandages, disinfectant, towels, ointments, and a bag of peas. The last one, you throw at him when you get back out. “So,” you pull out the chair next to him and plop down with crossed arms. “What happened?”
Jaemin silently wraps a towel around the cold bag and presses it on his jaw. You jerk your foot, kicking him in the knee. There’s a sharp hiss and he drops the sad, damp, lumpy towel on his lap. “What the fuck?”
“How the hell did you manage to get into a bloody fight while I was ordering milk tea?!” you snapped. “Did they insult you? Did they make fun of your nails? Were they picking a fight because your nails are cuter than—”
“They looked at me.”
You blink. 
“I’m sorry?”
“Fuckers were looking at me for too long and it pissed me off,” he sneered. He’s already recovered the bag of peas and he has it fixed on the right side of his face. “Acted like hot shit when they couldn’t get in enough hits to make my nose bl— fuck you!”
“Shut your mouth for a sec.” You decide his swelling has gone down enough so you push his hand away and roughly pull his face closer by the jaw. He’s actually insane. Even more insane than the rumors painted him to be. 
You wet the towel with the water you bought, using the damp cloth to wipe away the dried up blood splotching areas of his face. You don’t understand how he’s still attractive even with a busted lip and an almost black eye. In fact, it even adds to his whole ‘don’t fucking talk to me’ vibe. This shouldn’t be legal. “Do you usually start swinging every time someone looks at you the wrong way?”
He scoffs. “They’re asking for it.”
“What about me?”
You let go of his face and take the ointment from the pile, squeezing a dollop on your finger and scooting your chair closer towards him. “I stared you down the first time we met,” you say. The cut on his forehead isn’t too big, but you think it still needs a band-aid. “Why didn’t you beat the lights out of me then?”
It’s hard not to notice the intensity of Jaemin’s stare when you apply the ointment on his cut. It feels like he’s burning through you. You swallow, noticing how much of his space you’ve invaded, so you pull back but are preemptively stopped when you catch his gaze. There’s a heavy thump in your chest. You feel the warmth of his fingers curling around your wrist, prompting you to notice that your other hand has been firm on his shoulder from when you were putting on the medicine. 
“Because,” he starts. “You’re a lot prettier when you look at me like you want to kick my ass.”
You continue to stare at him, lips pressed into a thin line. He breathes out a grin.
“You’re a fucked up little bastard, you know that?”
“Even more pretty when you talk shit.”
“I think you have a concussion.” You finally bring yourself to move away, ignoring the heat on your cheek bones as you clumsily dig into the pile of first aid to fish out a band-aid. Holy shit, you muffle out a breath. This is too much. This is out of line. He’s not trying to one-up you anymore. He’s trying to kill you.
“You’re crap at this,” he points out while you’re struggling to keep your hand from shaking too much because you still have to apply ointment on his busted freaking lip. Why did he have to get hit there? Why are your fingers twitching every time you feel his hot breath on your fingertips?
“Well, I’m sorry for never getting into a fist fight before,” you huff. “If you’re such an expert, then do it yourself.”
You shouldn’t have said that. You really shouldn’t have because Jaemin grabs your hand as if he hadn’t been avoiding yours since earlier, firmly positioned, and then you feel his plush lips against your two pressed fingers, a warm jolt pooling into thin skin as your fingers glide along the cut.
It’s been two days since you’ve met him and he’s already driving you insane. You squeak and pull back your hand in a flurry. There’s a layer of white glaze covering the deep red slit on his lips. Jaemin gives you a wide grin for the first time and he breaks into a short laugh— just when you think he couldn’t drive you over the edge any further.
But you can’t admit any of your inner turmoil out loud, else you’d be admitting defeat. You decide that you’ve finally reached your quota of weird hand holding for the day, but you regrettably manage to catch a glimpse of his knuckles, painted with red blotches and purpling edges. “You’re hopeless.”
“I didn’t notice,” he admits, and you clean the small wounds on his hands just as you did with his face, tracing over his vein lines and the contours of his skeleton while plastering bandages wherever you see fit, which earns you another insult about your shitty first-aid skills. 
His newly painted nails have some dried blood on them. Gross.
“Is it my turn tomorrow?”
To be honest, you haven’t been expecting a third date. It’s either Jaemin is that determined to have you admitting he’s something you can’t handle, or you’ve managed to get under his skin just as much as he has with you.
“Yeah,” you reply. Whatever the reason is— it doesn’t matter as long as you have the excuse to keep seeing him. “It’s your turn. Better prepare something worth my while, pretty boy.”
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Jaemin’s turn doesn’t come until Friday because you completely forgot that you still have to review for an exam on Monday. When you texted him about it, he didn’t seem pissy. Good thing because you were going to remind him that it’s his fault anyway for getting you kicked out of the library. He sent a semi-threatening message to make sure that you’ll free yourself on Friday evening, followed by ‘good luck on the quiz, pretty girl,’ which is just fantastic. You’ve been given mixed signals before but he’s on a completely different level.
Walking to your classroom for Intermediate Algebra leads you to the precipice of guilt knowing that you still are yet to talk to Myung and Saehee about Jaemin. You intentionally arrive early to get some last minute review sprints in, as well as to figure out how you should apologize to Myung for getting involved with her cheating ex’s close friend.
“That’s not what I’m upset about. Hell, I’m not even upset at all about that. Honey, you’ve heard that Na Jaemin is a piece of shit, why the heck are you going out with him?”
“He’s not that bad!” you defend, but quickly backtrack. “Well. Not entirely. And he’s the one my parents are trying to set me up with. I’ve known him for less than a week and it isn’t that serious so you don’t have to worry. I’m breaking it off soon.”
“You usually call quits the day after, though?” Saehee questions. “Why are you still meeting him at the end of the week?”
“To prove a point.” You know full well that that’s not entirely true anymore, but your friends would never understand why you’re attracted to an asshole such as him, anyway (neither did you), so you decide to spare them the headache.
Myung and Saehee look at each other, knowing full well that you’re way too stubborn and prideful for your own good. They cut the interrogation short, just before your professor enters. “Please give us a call or text immediately if you think he’s taking you somewhere sketchy. I just can’t trust the guy,” they tell you. You neither call nor text when Friday comes and Jaemin takes you on his motorcycle to another seemingly illegal venue. You’re starting to become convinced that his ideas for dates are synonymous to potential police chases.
“I thought your bike got confiscated last week,” you ask, hopping off of the vehicle with his assistance. Your voice is muffled by the helmet he threw on your head. You struggle to get it off.
“Got a new one.” He takes the helmet off for you, mindlessly tugging on the areas where your hair got winded up, trying to untangle them. “You like it?”
“I honestly can’t tell the difference.”
Jaemin pats your head to commemorate his handiwork and it’s honestly the gentlest he’s ever been with you, but you can’t even appreciate it because you’re parked at the edge of dingy freeway in the middle of nowhere and there’s not enough streetlights to see beyond twelve feet away into the road. “Good, because you’ll be seeing me riding a different bad boy tonight.”
“What?”
The quiet of the night is interrupted by the sound of a car slowly entering the parameters, its headlights bringing in another source of light into the dark field. You’re not sure if the vehicle is actually heading towards you two, but its windows suddenly roll down when it draws nearer, and a head emerges from the passenger seat. “Get in, dipshit!” the ashy mop of hair yells. Jaemin shoots up a middle finger. 
Your hair flutters when the car makes an abrupt stop before the both of you. There’s a click and the passenger seat flings open. “You didn’t say anything about bringing a plus one, you bitch.”
“Shut the fuck and help me load this thing in the back.”
“What the hell? Jaemin, what is this?” 
“A ride,” he simply replies. You look at him incredulously as he and the other guy throw his motorcycle in the back of the pickup truck.
“What’s the point when you already have a bike?”
Jaemin finds his spot next to you again, only to nudge you towards the vehicle. “Can’t have you all out in the open when we arrive. You obviously look out of place and that’s just painting a fucking target on your back,” he points his chin to the now open door, signaling you to get in. 
He keeps the door open. There’s a blank look on his face, but your eyebrows are still knitted in from the lack of understanding. The dots are refusing to connect. “At least tell me where we’re going?”
“Wherever it is, I’m sure you can handle it, pretty girl.” You flinch a little when he leans forward. “Can’t you?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” You jump even harder when someone shoves past you and the look on Jaemin’s face suddenly drops into a scowl. “Continue flirting or fucking or whatever inside the car. It’s fucking cold out, jeez.”
“Fuck off,” Jaemin spits, and roughly pushes you into the car. Good god, you’re not sure if you’re gonna make it the entire night. When Jaemin gets in, he gives the passenger seat a hard kick and you’re sure he just broke something. You look at him, wide-eyed. He just laughs when his friend(?) reacts with a loud curse.
“If you’re gonna fight, do it outside.” You hear the one on the driver’s seat speak for the first time and with his announcement, he starts the car without warning. You catch a glimpse of some of his features from the rear view mirror, and you feel the rest of your organs sinking into your stomach when you realize just whose car you’re in right now. 
“Aren’t you the piece of shit that cheated on Myung?”
You feel all three of their eyes on you, and you catch Lee Jeno’s through the same mirror. “Oh, you know her?”
“She’s my friend, asshole.”
“So, what? Want me to apologize?” His tone is mocking you. If the previous events weren’t enough to piss you off, then this is the mark that sets you off. Jaemin inspired you. You kick the driver’s seat. The car suddenly swerves a little too dangerously close to the edge of the road.
“Fuck!”
“Holy shit, man. Your girl is nuts,” passenger seat breathes out after Jeno recovers back to safety. He turns around to face you. “I’m Haechan. You three already seem to know each other so I’m feeling a little left out.”
“I’d say it’s nice to meet you but I’m kind of in a shitty mood right now to lie.”
“Wow. So charming. No wonder Jaemin’s cucked.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Another kick from Jaemin sets off Jeno’s driving again, and little did you know that this isn’t the most dangerous vehicular situation you’ll be witnessing tonight. The ride is short, and it’s filled by Haechan’s one-sided chatter until you reach what you think is your destination. 
Jeno stops at a place that looks no different from where you came from, except for the large crowd that’s gathering on the road that he would have run over had they not given way (read: scrambled and ran) to give him space to park. You’re convinced that you’re inside a car with less than normal people, but you’re not one to talk when you’re in here with them.
They exit the vehicle without waiting for you, so you quickly follow after them into the tight crowd. You tug on Jaemin’s sleeve when you manage to catch up. He pulls his arm away only to retrieve your arm without looking back, bulldozing into the epicenter of bodies with you in tow. “Will you finally explain what’s going on?” you ask with shallow breaths after you’ve finally emerged from the crowd.
“It’s street racing, baby!” Haechan butts in, and your eyes follow him as he moves further into the middle of the crowd. You finally find out what they’re all looking at. A line of eight multicolored motorcycles are stationed in front of a makeshift starting line. All of the bikes either already have a driver on them, or have someone tinkering with the vehicle. “My money’s on your boyfriend. Give him a kiss good luck so I can get my money’s worth.”
Your eyes frantically snap at Jaemin. He’s already left your side, walking up to the guy with the purple motorcycle and they talk a bit. You run after him fast enough to catch a glimpse of their conversation. The other guy told him that he was a piece of shit for demanding upgrades last minute. He leaves after Jaemin gives him a hard pat on the back. You lock eyes with him when you intersect.
“Why do you have so many bikes?” He gives you a grin. You’re unimpressed.
“They all serve different purposes, pretty girl. S’not like I can take you around with this monster.” You look at the ‘monster,’ and it definitely looks different from the one that he left at the police raid and the one in the back of Jeno’s car. You’re not an expert on vehicle breeds, so you don’t bother to understand what he means, but you know one thing for certain.
“Isn’t that, kind of like, dangerous?”
The corner of his lip twitches. He leans down a little and asks, “Scared I’ll get hurt?” 
“No, I’m just worried you’ll fuck up your face again.”
“Is my face the only reason you’re sticking around me?”
“Stay alive to find out,” you jab your finger into his forehead. “If you finish without a scratch, I might just give you an extra turn.”
Jaemin grabs your wrist and pulls it down, but doesn’t let go. Instead, he used it to jerk you forward. You stumble into his chest and he looks down at you with an annoyingly attractive smile. “Looking forward to it, pretty girl.” 
You thought he was hot even when he wore a permanent constipated expression on his face, but this opened you to a whole new world. You can feel your balance slipping away. Your knees are jelly. He takes advantage of that and pushes you back with ease, a firm grip on both of your shoulders until he signals Haechan to take you away unless you want to get run over. 
“Stop eye fucking him, it’s gross.” 
You ignore him. Your attention is pulled, lured into a single subject. Jaemin’s on the bike now, his hands positioned on the handles. There’s so much noise rupturing around you and the smell of oil and attacks the other end of your senses. Your eyes can’t even catch up to the scene. There’s a bang and you cough with your eyes stinging from the burst of smoke. The cheers scream louder. When you regain your vision, he’s already gone.
“Alright, time to go back, princess. You can wait for him in the car.”
“That’s it? Can’t you like, actually watch them?”
“Babe, you think this whole jig has cameras set up around? There’s a bunch of people watching at different spots of the circuit. If you’re lucky, someone might snag a picture or tweet that two guys crashed into each other and exploded.”
You wince. The only benchmark you have on Jaemin’s driving skills are two separate occasions with one feeling like a horizontal gyro drop and earlier— which wasn’t any better. The fear that suddenly shoots into your bloodstream brings you to a halt. 
“Relax. Jaem’s been doing this for a couple of months now and he hasn’t died yet.”
“Do you guys come here often?” you ask. The both of you arrive at Jeno’s pick-up. He’s leaned against the vehicle and busy on his phone, and seeing his face suddenly melts your anxieties away, replacing it with annoyance. He takes your hostility pretty well and retreats into his car.
“Once or twice a month,” Haechan replies, helping you into the cargo bed. There’s very little space with Jaemin’s other bike squeezed in along with an ice box in the corner, so he decides to sit on the ledge. “Last time there was a raid so operations had to stop for a while. That’s why there’s more people than usual today.”
From congregating in the middle of the road, the audience is now scattered all over the venue, clustered into their own groups while waiting for the racers to make their way back. Some ran after the bikes, thinking they could keep up with the illegal modified vehicles’ speed. It’s dim— just barely a few street bulbs on and some fairy lights hung strewn around a couple other cars in the field. You catch a familiar face in the crowd— the guy Jaemin was talking to earlier about his new bike— and you notice that he’s actually walking up to you. You blink when he crosses his arms over the cargo ledge, looking up at you.
“Were you the one who got Jaemin to paint his nails?”
“Uh, yes?”
He gives you a thumbs up. “Respect.”
You’re not sure what just happened. Haechan slips into the conversation, swiftly throwing an arm over your shoulder and both your cheeks are squished together. You squint your eyes at him. He greets the other guy with a volume that causes you to wince. “Let me introduce you to each other. This is Renjun. Renjun, this is…?”
You tell them your name, not even the slightest bit surprised that Jaemin hasn’t mentioned it to them. Or maybe he has and they just don’t care enough to remember. Both seem equally plausible. Your attention returns to Renjun. He gives you a wave of acknowledgement before proceeding to tell Haechan that if he doesn’t turn in his part for their project by midnight, he’ll get his name removed. “Oh, come on. Cut me some slack, Junnie. You’re acting like we haven’t been through shit together.”
“You’re the one who keeps putting me through shit, Haechan,” Renjun deadpans. “Anyway, nice to meet you. If you know what’s good for you, you should dump Jaemin by tonight. See you around.”
Renjun disappears into the crowd after giving you his friendly advice. You already know that most people wouldn’t approve of your involvement with Jaemin, but you never expected his friend to say the same thing to you. It leaves a bitter taste on your tongue, but of course it’s not going to deter you. In fact, it just makes you all the more determined to make things work with Jaemin— not caring if that’s a good idea or a terrible one.
You turn to Haechan. He’s digging into the cooler and pulls out a can of cheap beer. “How long have you guys been friends?” you ask him. The drink doesn’t reach his lips.
“Gross. Ew. That’s disgusting, don’t ever ask me that again,” he grimaces. “But I’ve known your boyfriend since we were in primary school.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Yeah, and you’re not waiting for his sweaty ass to cross the finish line so you can have a celebratory makeout session. Hey, turn off the glare. Loosen up and have a drink.”
Haechan tosses you another can from the box. You stare at the beverage, ice cold in your hands. You made a vow. You said you’ll never drink again, but from the hour you’ve met Haechan, you’re sure he’s gonna make fun of you for not drinking and he’s gonna rat out your ass to Jaemin. If you have to make a decision, you’ll choose preserving your pride over anything. One can and that’s it.
The burning sensation in your throat feels foreign and you bite back a grimace. You should have known a year of abstinence was gonna hit hard.
“Was Jaemin any different when you were kids?”
“You asking if he’s always been an asshole?” Haechan raises a brow. “Fucker framed me for breaking the vase at Jeno’s place when we were like ten and tried to push me down the stairs as a joke. He stirs up shit all the time but makes sure to hide his dirt from his parents. But the one thing he can’t hide is his personality. So, yes. He’s always been a dick.”
You snort at the thought of tiny Jaemin being the devil incarnate, mindlessly taking another sip of beer. If he’s always been the same, you wonder if it’s already impossible for him to outgrow his nasty tendencies. “Does he also really get provoked when people look at him for too long?” you throw another question. Haechan doesn’t seem to mind.
“Ever seen me looking directly at him the entire night?” he replies. “He’s crazy. Not even Jeno can look him in the eye for more than five seconds before he starts sweating. I’ve already spread rumors around uni that looking at him is like deliberately walking in front of a speeding train, but people take it as an invitation to test it. Take Junho hyung, for example. He got out with a broken nose and fractured arm.”
So that’s what happened. Jaemin definitely isn’t guilt free but your senior practically walked into the bear cage voluntarily. You’re learning new things about him when he’s not even here. You make a mental note to treat Haechan to lunch out sometime.
“Jaemin’s straightforward and simple. He does whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and doesn’t bend for anyone. But you don’t seem bothered by his attitude. Maybe because he’s nicer to you.”
“He’s brought me to two dates and so far both have been illegal.”
“That’s romance for you, baby,” he shoots you a wink with matching finger guns. You roll your eyes, feeling the alcohol starting to settle in your system and you’re sure you’re starting to get tipsy. Your tolerance has been completely trashed and this should have been a sign to stop drinking, but Haechan tosses you another can when he notices that yours is now empty.
With alcohol in the mix, your head is starting to go to different places. Haechan says that Jaemin doesn’t bend for anyone. It’s true for the most part, but he showed up at the park when you asked him to and even agreed to get his nails done. The amount of times you’ve looked him straight in the eye should be equivalent to at least two dozen beatings, but all he’s ever done is lightly shove you around and press your fingers to his lips like a jackass.
Your eyes widen. It’s past ten o’clock but you can feel the heat of the sun on your face.
Shit. What if he likes you?
“Oh, fuck. Hey. You’re gonna want to see this.”
Haechan had been on his phone the entire time you were doing mental gymnastics and flashes you the screen. It’s a blurry video. It’s a blurry video of Jaemin overtaking two guys at once and you can feel the violent tantrum inside your chest barrelling even louder, rougher, when the camera finally focuses and you can see the clear cut of his silhouette before he disappears again in a flash. Your head instinctively follows his phone when he snatches it back, and your cheek bumps into his shoulder.
Haechan cackles. “Can’t believe you’re hammered already.” You shoot him a glare and finish your second can, quickly moving on to the third. Your head fuzzes even more by the second, and as you feel the burn of cheap beer in your throat, your mind starts to wander again.
You can’t think of any other reason why he’d be making exceptions. It’s either he likes you or is shifting his attitude to get you to admit that he is too much for you to handle, but that’s sort of a reach, right? You’ve made a decision. Yes. You’re going to ask him once he’s done with the race. There’s a sudden stampede towards the street and the slow build-up of pandemonium meaning that they’re almost here. 
You stumble when you try to stand up, and your throat starts to dry up like sand. You push off Haechan who tries to help you up, but everyone is already running to watch them by the finish line and you don’t want to be a second late. The thought of seeing his face after the conclusion you’ve just made makes your head spin.
But you don’t get to see him race past the finish line. By the end of your third drink, you black out.
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Regret comes crashing in the form of blinding lights through an uncurtained window. You wince at the sharp attack on your senses, making the dull throbbing in your head feel even worse, so you sink further under the covers to block the light.
Wait. Covers?
“Morning, pretty girl.”
You jolt up and almost immediately regret it. If your headache isn’t enough to kill you, then your embarrassment will. You grace Jaemin with a horrified look. He’s by the doorframe, arms crossed and blankly staring. It hits you that this isn't your room. It hits you the second time that these aren’t your clothes.
“Did— did something happen between us?”
He doesn’t reply immediately. Jaemin takes a moment to enjoy the look of panic in your face and manages a short, quiet laugh before walking towards the bed. He settles on the right side of the mattress, covering the light leaking through the window glass and leans forward. His arm serves as a barricade, preventing you from bouncing up and running away in nervousness. The throbbing in your head is deafened by your heartbeat. 
“If you consider you puking your guts out all over me last night as ‘something happening,’ then, yeah. A lot happened. Good to see you’re still alive.”
You wait for him to take it back and say he’s kidding, but he doesn’t. Your face pales. You shouldn’t have drank. You really shouldn’t have and now you’re reaping the consequences of internalized pressure and pride. You want to bury yourself alive but you can’t throw out all of your dignity just yet. You’re going to pathetically hold onto it until the very end,
“Don’t give me that look. Jeno called your friend when we got to the apartment and she helped me clean you up. She’s the one that gave you a shower and changed your clothes. Don’t jump to conclusions.”
On second thought, you’re actually ruined now. You curl into the bedsheets. You indirectly caused Myung to talk to her shitty ex-boyfriend again to mop up your messy ass because you were with a guy she didn’t approve of. This warrants more than an apology. You should get on your knees and beg her to take you back in as a friend
“I’m a terrible person and I don’t deserve to live.”
“Stop fucking whining and drink some water.” You’re not sure how long the glass of water on his bedside table has been waiting, but he picks it up and shoves it to your face until your nearly dead limbs take it from him. “Haechan told me you passed out after three cans. You should’ve told me you couldn’t drink for shit.”
“I haven’t had any alcohol for over a year,” you shoot him a glare before bringing the glass to your lips.   
“Are you allergic or something?”
“No. Just parental trauma.” Jaemin gives you a look. You immediately clarify. “It’s not like that. My dad has a really embarrassing drinking habit and I vowed to stop drinking because I didn’t want to end up like him. Turns out I’m worse.”
“You’re fine,” he assures, taking the now emptied glass with one hand while he uses the other to wipe your mouth. “You didn’t get any on my hair, at least.”
There’s a conflict of interest and your brain is waging a war against itself. How dare he make your heart flutter and immediately make you want to bury yourself alive in the next second. He’s terrible. “Look. I’m sorry. I know. Please stop talking about that now.”
“You threw up in the doorway and in my shower.”
“I said shut the fuck up, asshole.”
Something in his eyes flickers, almost as if you flipped a switch on him. The air gets knocked out of your chest when your back hits the mattress, a gasp slipping out of you. You recall what he said to you the other night, when his brain was all messed up after getting a few too many punches in the head— even more pretty when you talk shit, he said. Those words in his voice ring inside your ears when you face him wide eyed as he’s practically pinning you against the bed. Maybe he was actually serious when he said that. He looks like he would eat you up. 
“It’s not like I’m actively being a dick, pretty girl. I just like being myself.” His voice comes off as a rumble. Your right hand twitches but it can’t move— he’s got his fingers clasped around yours and you swallow hard when he squeezes them tighter. “And I was pretty damn nice to you last night. You’re still pretty when you’re shitfaced and fucked over.”
Things are starting to click. Coming from a life of privilege and power since he was born, Jaemin must have been doing whatever he wanted his whole life without any significant consequences. The both of you might have similar backgrounds, but when you were younger, your parents used to be a lot stricter, a lot more imposing. They’ve become more lenient as you grew up, of course, but they still instilled a level of control over you to this day. When you and him first met, they forced you to come. His parents simply hoped that he would show up.
He did. But he showed up on his own terms and left in the same manner. You’re starting to understand him better. Still, understanding doesn’t mean condoning that he has, admittedly, been a total piece of shit at times. And knowing the reasons for his behavior doesn’t mean knowing how to fix it. Sometimes he would bend his ego and listen to you, but that doesn’t warrant a complete shift in his principles, either.
Well, that’s not your problem and you’re not sure if it is even a problem. You’re not here to fix him. 
“I know,” you tell him. “Thanks for taking care of me, Jaemin.”
You’re here to have a good time and he’s giving you a lot of it. It doesn’t really matter when he makes every second with him feel like you’re riding on quicksand and taming rabid fires. He’s turned the thing you hated into something you’re thankful for with his own two hands by being the terrible person that he is.
“You should be grateful.” He lets you off with an innocent pinch on your nose right after looking at you for a good few minutes as if he would actually devour you alive. Jaemin pulls himself back, a familiar shade of pink coloring his ears and neck. “Your clothes are still in the dryer. I forgot to put them in last night,” he informs. “Stay here until they’re dry. Or don’t. Do whatever the fuck you want.”
He gets up and starts making his way to the door. You remember the conclusions you arrived at last night while you were drunk and delusional— that maybe he liked you. You have most of your mental capacities in check right now, and you’re willing to further test that hypothesis. Him blushing isn’t enough. You need to have him keeling over his own (maybe nonexistent) feelings and falling flat in the face.
“What if I want to stay in your bed the whole day?”
You can’t see if there’s anything on the floor but he stumbles a bit. He turns his head. “By yourself?”
“You can join me if you want.”
Jaemin’s eyes are lowered. He looks at you in consideration. “It’s not a matter of whether I want to or not, pretty girl. It’s a matter of whether you could handle it or not,” he says. “Can you?”
As a response, you nudge yourself to the side and pat on the space beside you. Jaemin takes this as a signal— he sharply walks back to the side of the bed, leans down, and gives you a knock on the head. “I ordered hangover soup,” he tells you. “Get your ass up once you’re sick of invading my space.”
With the creak and slam of the door, he’s gone. You blink, hand on your head and eyes unfocused. You’ve cracked him. All that’s left is to dig under the crust and surface.
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The floor is cold and dirty and gross, but you’re on your knees with your head down in front of Myung. Your hands lay on your lap in repentance. Myung tells you to stop being an idiot.
“Please stop. You’re causing a scene.”
You do, albeit slowly and remorsefully. Myung lets out a sigh and you’re about to beg again. She grabs your shoulders before you could, and you’re forced to look at her. “You’ve been doing a lot of dumb things lately,” she starts. “Dumb things, but not bad things. You’re fine. It’s all fine. Next time you get hammered, I told Jaemin to call me directly.”
“Oh my god,” you lunge to give her a hug and she pats your back. “There won’t be a next time. I swear.”
“You’re worse than your dad.”
“I know,” you grimace, pulling yourself together. “And I thought you didn’t like Jaemin. But you even gave him your number.”
She shrugs. “Just in case. And he isn’t as bad as I thought. Poor boy was pale as fuck when you passed out. He wasn’t even useful because he was panicking too much. Guy acts like hot shit but gets pathetic when you’re passed out and puking. I doubt he’s capable of hurting you like his dick of a friend.”
You stare at her. Maybe that’s why Jeno had to call Myung— because Jaemin was practically useless. It’s a funny thought and it’s hard to believe, but your fingertips tingle at its mere possibility. Myung hugs you goodbye as she leaves for her next class, and you’re left in the hallway to check the time. It’s thirty minutes before noon, and you managed to remember your mental, though admittedly alcohol-stained, note of treating Haechan lunch for ramblings about his friend (of course, he doesn’t need to know that reason). You managed to egg Jaemin for his number before you left his apartment. You text him that you’ll be waiting at the restaurant.
“You’re nicer than your boyfriend.”
“I told you, he’s not my boyfriend.”
There’s a look of doubt on his face as he steals the sushi roll from the platter and shoves it in his mouth, inelegantly pointing the now empty chopstick at you with a muffled voice. “Maybe he will be soon,” he says, a bead of rice pasted on his chin. “Not sure about you, but he definitely likes you. At first I thought he was just fucking around, but then the loser missed the finish line and drove straight to the fucking car like a madman when he noticed you weren’t watching.”
You cough. Hard. You scatter to grab the glass of water and Haechan nonchalantly passes it to you. “I thought he was gonna kill me when he saw you passed out. You owe me another fucking lunch for that threat to my life. You’re looking a little too happy after being told that your boyfriend nearly murdered me, you bitch. Fuck the both of you.”
Admittedly, things are going a little too fast than what you’re used to. You’ve only known him for like, almost two weeks. At this point of time, your previous relationships and flings would still be trying to curry your affection, but Na Jaemin managed to grab you by the neck from the very moment you saw him— for reasons of affection or otherwise, but all that doesn’t matter when you’re itching to dig further and further underneath his skin at every moment that passes.
When you finish your lunch with Haechan, the first thing you do is give him a call. He answers after the first ring, “Talk.” Always so eloquent.
“You didn’t ruin your face during the race, right?”
He’s quiet for a moment. Then you hear him laugh. “Not a scratch. I wasn’t going to bring it up, but you seem to enjoy getting dragged around by me.”
“I think you’re the one getting soft, Jaemin.”
“You’re on thin ice.”
“Wow, I’m so scared.” 
“Where are you?” You can hear the sliding of a door at his end of the line, and the sound of the wind becomes clearer. “You’re getting pretty cocky. Sounds like I need to put you in your place.”
“Looking forward to it.” You end the call and send him your location through text. Jaemin doesn’t take long to show up on his bake, and the temptation to tease him for it is almost stronger than your fear that he would change his mind and leave you behind if you do. 
You decide to save pushing his buttons for another day and instead enjoy the way his warmth seeps into you whenever you press up against him on his bike, taking you to god knows where— probably somewhere illegal again. It isn’t clear when or how your desire to prove his arrogant ass wrong transformed into a general fondness and a sea of uncharted feelings, but you’re not questioning it. You let yourself get washed and carried away.
He brings you way past the parameters of the city and to the seaside, leaving behind his bike at the foot of a rocky, uphill slope where there’s nothing but the gray and black mix of rocks and stone, pointing towards the salty horizon. You can hear the sound of waves splashing against the cliffside, some tides riding high enough to splatter droplets on you. “Wow,” you gape. “This place is so pretty. How did you find it?”
Jaemin is already settled on the uneven ground, just a few inches away from the cliff’s edge. You walk towards him and sit down as well. You can see the seafoam and seawater if you lean forward. “I stomped on a kid back in high school. He tattled on his older friends. They jumped me and brought me here— threatened to throw me off if I tried to mess with the piece of shit again.”
You stare at him. He shrugs. “I took care of it. Paid some college idiots to fuck them over. Dumbass transferred before I could do anything else to him. Fucking loser.”
It horrifies and fascinates you that the backstory to this place stemmed from violent teenage hormones and pride, but that doesn’t detract from the scenery in front of you. Waves crash against the rocks in tumultuous shifts. You shouldn’t have to wonder how something so pretty could also be so violent when there’s Jaemin right before your eyes. There’s a slight breeze, and his hair shuffles along with it. There are barely visible lines in between his eyebrows from his frowning too much, but the rarity of his smile makes it a hundred times prettier.
“The fuck are you staring at?”
“I can’t help it,” you answer. “Quit having such a nice face then maybe I’ll stop.”
“I can’t help it,” he mocks. You jab his side with your elbow but he’s unbothered. “It’s the only thing keeping you around me. Why would I give up on that?”
You move an inch closer. Your cheek is pressed on his shoulder. He cranes his head to look at you. “Are you sure?”
Jaemin doesn’t say or do anything, but you can feel something shifting in the air. The both of you stare at each other for a while, the sounds of the ocean crashing and splashing into itself engulfing your surroundings. For a moment, you think he’s gonna kiss you, but Jaemin is frozen in time with his ears pink and eyes open. After his moment of weakness, nudges you off with a grunt and digs into his pockets. You don’t mask your disappointment when he brings a cigarette to his lips and mumbles swear words at the wind when it blows out his lighter fire.
“I take it back, Your face really is your only redeeming quality. You’re annoying.”
“Suck it up, pretty girl. So is yours.” He blows a tuft of smoke into your face when he finally manages to light it, and your face scrunches with a round of coughs, fanning it away.
You watch as he brings the unlit end of the cigarette between his lips again before he removes it with a trail of gray, toxic air. It’s like he’s showing off. You’re not thinking too hard when you ask, “Can I try?”
Jaemin looks at you. “Do you smoke?”
“No,” you reply. “I’ve never even touched a cigarette my entire life.”
“Then, fuck no.” Your eyes widen in surprise when he throws it somewhere you can’t even see. The relaxed look on his face is gone when he turns back to face you. “You should’ve said so when I took out the fucking dart.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “You looking down on me, big guy?”
“I’m making sure your paper weak lungs don’t shrivel up and die,” he clicks his tongue. “Quit forcing yourself to do shit you don’t actually want to just to prove that you can keep up with me. You’ve already made it obvious that you’re harder to put up with.”
He admitted it. You’ve just won your stupid freaking game or bet or whatever it even was, but you don’t feel the least bit elated.
There’s a weight in your gut that’s anchoring you to the ground. You’re almost disappointed— hurt, even. But then he throws his head back with a groan, a hand digging into his hair with a harsh grip. He turns to shoot you a glare when he drops his arm.
“You drive me fucking insane.”
This is Jaemin you’re talking to and he’s nowhere near normal, so you can’t expect him to admit his feelings for you in a normal way as well. He drives this point further when he says, “And I’ve already made up my mind. You’re not going anywhere. I’m keeping you even if my face gets fucked and even if you keep pussying shit out.”
Then your disappointment slowly climbs into a giddiness bordering on adrenaline. It stirs you to your knees, the rough terrain nipping against the thin layer of skin, but you ignore it just so you can have some physical leverage on this bastard. 
“Can’t you say something sweet and romantic for once, you piece of shit?”
Jaemin tries to blink away his alarm when you roughly jerk him forward by the collar. He stares at you— eyes first, but you notice his gaze lowering. “Your lips look extra pretty when you call me a piece of shit.”
You want to throw him off the cliff. “Try again.”
“I want to kiss you right now.”
“I’ll give you a pass.” You loosen your grip on his collar. “Hurry up. What are you waiting for?”
Jaemin doesn’t need to be told twice. He pull you down by the hips and kisses you like he’s following a script he’s run over and over again inside his head prior— biting, nipping, and you feel yourself falling back as you try and gasp for air, but he chases after your lips like he’s addicted to you and not the cigarettes you can taste on his tongue. He’s restless, grunting against your mouth, and you have to pry him off to make sure he doesn’t die from a lack of oxygen.
“Calm down,” you breathe out. He lunges forward again in response. You should have remembered that the edge of a cliff isn’t the safest place to make out. When you stretch an arm behind you to balance yourself, you touch nothing and gravity pulls you down from behind.
Your scream snaps Jaemin out of his high. In your panic to grab onto him, the rocks crumble from underneath you and you’re sure you’re about to slip and fall off along with the crumbling edge. Jaemin manages to grab you by the arm, but you’re still centimeters away from death with the ground on your feet slowly falling apart and your weight tipping off your balance. You wait for Jaemin to pull you back into safety, but you see the look on his eyes. The same look when he’s hellbent on fucking with you to test just how much of him you can handle.
“Jaemin,” you warn. “Na Jaemin.”
You can see it. He’s tempted to loosen his hold just to scare the crap out of you just like how you nearly pissed yourself when he first made you ride on his motorcycle. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
He doesn’t. He pulls you forward with his other hand landing on your back to steady you on the ground, but you push him off. 
Jaemin is nicer to you, softer on you, and treats you like an exemption which makes you forget that inherently, he’s not a good person. He’s an asshole even to his friends and he’s a dick even to you. You’re livid. He kisses you like his life depended on it but hesitates on saving your ass the next second because he is and he will always be a piece of shit. 
He’s straightforward and simple. He does whatever he wants because knows there won’t be any consequences. He should learn that won’t always be the case.
“Where are you going?”
“Away,” you slap away his hand when he tries to reach out to you. “Don’t follow me. Don’t try to contact me either.”
You’re fueled by a mix of anger and disappointment when you leave him behind. Normally, you’d shrug his shitty behavior off like you’ve always done, his pretty face and understated affection always trumping whatever nasty things he says, but this time it’s different. You can hear your barrelling heartbeat inside your ribcage when you’re on a cab back home, feel the threat of cold winds on the back of your neck when you were partially dangled in the air.
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It’s been a week. You’re less mad about the stunt he pulled and more so about the fact that he actually never tried to call or text you within the seven days that passed. This made you realize that he’s never been the first person to call or text between the both of you, either, so even though you want to see him, you’re more bent on letting him marinate in the salty consequences of his personality and actions.
That is until your parents bother you again. You’re reading a magazine on the living room sofa when they tell you to get dressed and get ready for another dinner with Jaemin’s family. You sit up, hair a mess. “Why didn’t you tell me beforehand?”
“I did. Over dinner the other day.”
Admittedly, you have been out of it the entire week, so you might have missed it. You’re not sure if you’re ready to see him already. He hasn’t even gotten on his knees and groveled for forgiveness yet.
But, like last time, you don’t have much of a choice. It’s deja vu when you get in the car and complain about having to go with them. “I already told you earlier, sweetie,” your father tries to placate you. “I promised Jaehyuck that we’d all be having dinner together. You can leave after the first course if you don’t feel too well. It didn’t seem like you and their son got along last time, so I won’t force you to stay long.”
You scoffed at his statement. Oh, the both of you would be getting along really nicely right now if their son just fixed his personality a little. Not that you’re any better. The main reason why you got entangled with Na Jaemin in the first place was because of your ego, after all. You both bring out the best and worst in each other.
However, it’s not pride that compels you to delay having to see his annoyingly pretty face again. When you arrive at the hotel’s restaurant, you make a detour to the bathroom, pretending that washing your hands would be enough to wash away your nerves because really— you’re super fucking nervous. What if he never actually liked you and he isn’t bothered by all this at all? He never said it. He never admitted it. Your stupid arrogant head might have jumped into that conclusion all alone.
You have your head down facing the sink when your phone buzzes on the counter, loosening your grip on the surface’s edges to read her text message. Where are you? she asks. The smiley face emoji that follows after threatens you to your feet.
“Sorry. I had to answer a few calls for a class project due this week. Mr. and Mrs. Na, it’s nice to see you again!”
The couple greet your arrival. Mrs. Na gets up from her seat to give you a welcoming embrace and in the midst of all that, you manage to lock eyes with Jaemin.
He’s sitting on the long table. It feels like your roles are reversed, but unlike last time, his attire looks more appropriate for the occasion and you hate how he in a neat button up and coat ties knots inside your stomach. He’s nodding along to whatever your dad is saying, but his eyes are on you. You swallow. 
“How have you been, dear?”
You snap back to your senses, giving Mrs. Na a bright smile. “I’ve been doing well. Never been better.” You hope you managed to compose your expression because the last thing you need is them finding out you’re having a falling out with their son after flirting and messing around for a good two weeks.
The dinner seems to be going well. You smile and join the conversation when you’re needed. Jaemin does the same. You caught all four of your guardians sneaking concerned glances at the both of you considering the first interaction you had with each other wasn’t exactly friendly, but they relax after the second course when neither of you showed any signs of talking to each other.
You’re starting to feel nauseous. This is getting ridiculous. You make an excuse and leave the booth. You’re halfway to the bathroom again when someone calls out your name.
Jaemin is standing a few feet away from you in the hallway. You cross your arms, giving him time to catch up to you. He looks troubled when he meets you face-to-face— mouth pressed together in uncertainty, brows knitted from an emotion other than annoyance. He fishes the words from the air, clearing his throat before finally breathing out, “I’m sorry.”
You compose yourself. You try your best to keep your emotions from leaking through your expression, making sure your arms are still firmly pressed against your chest. “For what?”
“For trying to test your patience while you were hanging off a cliff.”
“Glad you know what you did wrong.”
“Like hell I’d let you fall off.”
“I was still fucking scared, Jaemin.”
“I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
You snort. “You don’t do that often.”
“Fuck off,” he snaps. “Wait. No. Sorry.”
You hold back a laugh. He’s crude, he’s impolite, and his personality will get him into a truckload of problems in the future, but you don’t think it’s a problem to you when he’s trying his best and looks like he’s in genuine panic, thinking that he screwed up again. Jaemin is everything the rumors say about him and nothing at all. You cut off his incoherent swears and apologies with a tug on his sleeve. “C’mere,” you open your arms. He doesn’t think twice to lock his arms around your waist which causes you to stumble into his chest.
He isn’t groveling on the floor, but you don’t mind. This much is already a lot for his self-centered ego. “I’ll forgive you,” you tell him after managing to find your balance in his tight squeeze. He smells like cigarette smoke and vanilla. “I’ll forgive you if you stop swearing for a day.”
You hear him groan. “Fuck you, that’s too much.”
“I’ll consider letting you be my boyfriend if you stop for three.”
Suddenly, he pries himself off. He has a tight grip on your shoulders and he’s looking at you like he’s carefully picking out letters from the alphabet to formulate his reply. “Okay,” he finally says. “Alright.”
Your parents would be elated to find out that their whole matchmaking stunt actually worked, but you put breaking the news to them into the backburner for now. It won’t be easy to explain that you and Na Jaemin started dating just to prove each other wrong. It’ll be even more difficult to describe how you ended up catching feelings. 
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can’t handle this. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.
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phoxphenex · 3 months
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Hiiii, can I request I dreamies text where u can't walk after a good night?? I luv ur text 💚💚
slight nsfw
nct dream when you can’t walk the next day
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catboyieejeno · 9 months
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random texts with bf! hyuck
cw: suggestive, cursing, hyuck is a menace
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a/n: me including hoshi is my subtle way of letting u guys know im gonna start writing for svt soon
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gyeomsweetgyeom · 3 months
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[7:09 pm]
(cw: parents!au)
Every parent knew what silence meant. Silence meant some huge mess was being made, someone was hiding, being mischievous, general mayhem being had. This was especially true in your home with your daughter and 3 cats. It was never this quiet in your house with the four—five troublemakers in your house. It couldn’t be the main troublemaker because he was sitting right next to you, fully invested in a a reality tv show.
“Jaemin, listen,” You said quietly while you muted the tv.
He looked at you quizzically, “I don’t hear anything… what could she be doing now?”
“It’s not her nap time yet, I have a very bad feeling about this,” you replied nervously.
Your daughter had a sweet face, she was nice and friendly in public. She always waved at strangers with a huge smile on her face. She knew to stay by your side when she wasn’t sitting in a shopping cart. She very rarely threw tantrums, a perfect little angel. People had even told you so.
In the comfort of your home on the other hand, she was hyperactive and loud. She wreaked havoc on the daily. And the cats were either right her side or far, far away from her. There was no in between. When the cats decided she was being too much your daughter would try to climb their scratching posts to reach them or pull on their tails. The poor animals. When they decided to help her the house was loud, something got destroyed, scratched, or simply broken.
The last time the 4 of them had joined forces you needed to buy a new bookshelf for the living room with all new frames for the pictures that filled up some empty spaces on the shelves.
“Rock, paper, scissors to see who goes,” Jaemin offered. You rolled your eyes but complied. Softly hitting your fist against the palm of your hand. One paper and one rock, you lost.
“Wish me luck please, and have your credit card ready to shop. Oh my god, I think I’m gonna be sick,” you muttered, standing from the couch and walking toward your daughter’s room, but not without pouting and sending pleasing looks to your husband.
You tiptoed quietly to her open door and took a peek inside. Oh good, she was playing with her baby dolls. Wait, since when were they covered in fur?
You ran back to the living room whisper yelling, “Honey, you have to come see what your daughter is doing!”
Jaemin tilted his head back and shut his eyes, “why is she only my daughter when she’s being naughty?”
“It’s not even that bad, no new furniture. Just come see!” You tugged on his arm until he was up and quietly sneaking behind you.
You both peeked into the open door and watched as your daughter swaddled up one of the cats, Luke. And he liked it! He was purring and nuzzling into your daughters small and unusually gentle hands. “Ok baby! It’s time for a nap!” She told the cat before placing him in her toy bassinet. The poor doll who it belonged to could be seen face down under her bed.
“And for the other baby, it’s lunch! Time for your bottle,” she told Luna, picking up the cat and holding her like a newborn while holding a toy bottle to the cat’s mouth. And poor Lucy was sitting on a doll bed with a bonnet tied below her chin, but she looked unbothered.
“I think the cats… like it?” Jaemin whispered in confusion.
You looked at him, “weirdly enough, I think they do too.”
You and Jaemin continued to watch the four of them play and interact. They were all calm and playing happily, until, she turned and caught sight of you.
She bounded over to you and jumped into your arms, knocking the wind out of you.
“I’m practicing!” She smiled brightly.
“What are you practicing for, baby?” You asked her, moving some hair out of her face.
“Daddy said he’s going to get me a baby brother! So I have to practice being a good big sister!” She smiled, stating it like it was obvious.
Your fave dropped, looking at Jaemin with a raised eyebrow, “did your dad say that? That’s news to me. What else did he tell you, baby?”
Jaemin’s face dropped and your daughter began spilling all their secrets. How he always bought her candy before ballet, they sometimes snuck some ice cream together after you were asleep, Jaemin put sugar in her cereal, and how he promised her new toys if she didn’t mention anything about a new sibling. “Do I still get my toys daddy?”
“Uh! No! She would not be getting any new toys!”Jaemin yelled in his mind.
“You can ask daddy later, he’s about to be in very big trouble.”
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neochan · 3 months
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DESIRE (M) — PART ONE
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he wants you. you want jeno. desire is a jealous little thing, isn't it y/n?
PAIRING. slytherin!haechan x hufflepuff!reader ft. gryffindor!jeno
WC. 12.1k
GENRE. harry potter au!, smut
WARNINGS. cursing, drinking, depictions of breaking a bone, solo male smut, haechan is sort of a perv in one (1) scene, oral male receiving, just really sloppy head <3, haechan does fuck someone in detail and he's mean abt it, but it's not y/n (oops spoiler of sorts), blonde!haechan, he's not a good person, so don't expect him to be. he's a big ole meanie with a longtime crush on reader.
A.N. this has been in the drafts for like three years. i want it out, so i'm splitting it into two parts :)
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The Mirror of Erised - The mirror shows the most desperate desire of a person's heart, a vision that has been known to drive men mad.
He loves you.
But he fucking hates it.
First year he was holding hands with you, sitting next to your huddled body on the train, and later sharing a meal in the great hall. Second year he saw you clinging onto him as he flew you over the quidditch field. Third year he watched the both of you sneak out to explore the restricted section in the library and run around the castle late at night. Fourth year he saw you in a beautiful dress as he took you to the yule ball. Fifth year he was kissing you on the astronomy tower. Sixth year you went down on him, and all he could do was watch and pretend that his hand was your mouth.
Now it’s seventh year.
Though the actions changed, it was always you he saw in the mirror, and he fucking hated it. Ever since first year, when all he knew was that you were cute and funny, there you were, taunting and teasing him in that godforsaken mirror.
And yet, he always comes back to sit and watch. 
Just like tonight.
The train only arrived an hour ago, but instead of filing into the great hall to see which house the first years would be sorted into, he’s sitting on the floor in the room of requirement, back against a dusty chest of drawers, and eyes narrowed down to slits as he watches the scene unfold in the mirror before him.
It always starts with you appearing out of thin air. You’re wearing your house colors – a small grey skirt, barely covering the swell of your ass and a yellow button up. You’re rid of the required tie, but only for a second, only until Haechan shows up to stand behind you in the mirror with it stretched between his fists.
He shifts in his place on the ground. It wasn’t real, but lord have mercy, he wished it were.
In the mirror he watches himself loop the tie around your wrists, which were set behind your back. You were so beautiful, smiling up at him with those luminous eyes, and your lips parted in a sinful smile.
Under his robes, his hand inches across the flat of his stomach, towards the growing bulge in his pants. It was becoming hotter in the room, almost stifling, but if someone were to come in, he couldn’t be caught half naked. He’d have to get by fully clothed. 
God, he despised the way you made him feel; so desperate for any sort of friction, anything to help relieve himself of the aching lust he felt in the pit of his stomach.
When his reflection is done tying your wrists together, a desk appears. He recognizes it as the one from potions class. His mouth drops open in an O as he watches himself back you up, so you were sandwiched between the desk and his broad chest.
His hand disappears under your skirt, and he could only imagine what his reflection was doing. Could only imagine how good you probably felt clenching around his fingers, gasping at his touch. Feeling pleasure because of him.
Your body arches against his, head dropping down to rest on his shoulder. He watches his lips move against your ear, but he couldn’t hear what he was saying.
Biggest fucking curse of the century.
Stupid mirror should come with speakers, he thinks.
It was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep his composure, skin slick with sweat, and hands buzzing with the temptation to touch himself.
Fuck you, y/l/n
He watches as his mirror persona spins you around and pushes you flat against the desk, yanking your skirt up around your waist to bare your glistening pussy.
It’s never been this explicit, and he can’t help himself. Tentative fingers wrap around his cock. He throws his head back and hisses between his teeth; it felt too fucking good. His eyes snap open. There was no way he was going to miss the rest of the show, not when it was just getting good.
In the mirror, his cock replaces his fingers. He watches himself inch his way into you slowly. Watches your mouth loll open, eyes glazed over. You were already fucked out and he had barely started.
Haechans hands stroke himself under his robes as he watches the scene in front of him. He was having a hard time keeping his hips still, bucking up into his fist. He softly groans to himself when he sees his reflection grab your tied hands and pull back, fucking himself into you faster.
It was so unfair, so embarrassing, that he had to resort to getting off in front of a mirror displaying his deepest fantasy. It was so unfair that it was always you.
So Haechan sits there, watching the mirrored version of himself completely ruin you, while trying to pretend that his hand is your dripping cunt. He sits there thinking of all the things he would do to you if you would give him the time of day.
Fuck you y/n.
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The first years had already been sorted by the time he arrived. In fact, dinner was almost over.
He makes his way to the Slytherin table where his friends were loudly joking. Renjun was the first to notice when he sat down and slides him a half-eaten piece of pie.
“Where were you?”
Through a mouthful of blueberry pie, Haechan acknowledges him, “I had to take care of some things.”
He shuts the discussion down quick. No need for them to know he shoved in a dusty room with his cock in his fist, and his mind full of you.
Speaking of which...
His eyes scan the great hall till he sees you sitting with your roommates, Jihyo and Mina. He almost chokes on the next bite when he realizes you were wearing the same outfit you had on in the mirror.
“Fucking hell man, don’t die,” Chenle slides him a glass of water, “We thought we were gonna have to sneak you some food back to the dorms.”
He gulps down the water and taps the glass with his ring clad pointer finger, automatically refilling it. The silver metal makes a tink sound against the glass. “Well, like I said, I had some things to take care of.”
Why the fuck did his friends have to be so damn nosy. A guy couldn't disappear for an hour?
“And was Y/N one of those things?” Chenle snorts.
The rest of the table bursts into laughter, louder than the entire great hall combined, and it makes you peek your head in their direction. Haechan drops his gaze away from you, grabs a stray spoon and chucks it at Chenle, hitting him square in the chest, “Shut up.”
“Dude, we all know you've been sweet on her since, what, first year?” Renjun snickers.
Chenle wipes the gunk that splattered off the spoon from his robes, ‘Yeah, we’re not blind man. I mean, she might be, but not us.”
"Sweet on her? What the fuck is this Renjun, the nineteen-fifties?" Haechan doesn't do anything but scowl. He hates how his friends knew. Hell, pretty much all Slytherins that knew him, knew.
His eyes flick up and catch yours. A soft smile forms on your lips, and he returns it. He hand twitched up for a wave, but Jeno, the infamous Gryffindor Seeker, sits beside you and steals your attention away.
“Ah look, now you’re too late.”
“Could’ve had a chance dude.”
Haechan turns to his friends and gives them a death stare, “Next word out of you guys and I’m gonna stuff the rest of this pie down your fucking throats.”
With a roll of their eyes, they turn their heads and start to talk amongst themselves about the new school year. Haechan can’t immerse himself in such conversation. His attention is pointed solely on you and the kiss ass that was Lee Jeno.
One of his arms sat slung around your shoulders, his face dangerously close to yours, but for some reason, you weren’t pushing him away, you were laughing.
Why weren’t you pushing him away?
Something in Haechan snaps when he watches Jeno lean his forehead against yours, both of you sharing wide smiles. It’s as if his heart was set on fire, the heat threading itself through his body and taking home in his hands. Oh, how he wanted to go punch that smile right off of Jeno’s lips. Smash his fist in his face and leave a nice mark, bloody broken gums bleeding.
Bet he wouldn’t smile at you then.
Haechan knows it’s insane. He does, but he quite honestly doesn’t give a single broom-flying fuck.
With determination, Haechan stood, pushing his chair back, and ignoring the calls from his friends. Everybody he walks past is enjoying their first-day-back meals, but Haechan has something else on his mind.
He walks by your table, hearing the pretty lilt of your voice chatting away with your friends as Jeno hangs off your side. Haechan’s tongue pokes his cheek in jealousy, but he walks right past without a word, no matter how much his brain is screaming at him to just hit Jeno.
Making it to the doors that seal off the great hall from the main corridor, he draws his wand out from his robes and flicks his wrist.
“Aguamenti”
A jet of clear water shoots out from the tip of his wand and smacks the side of Jenos head, effectively drenching him from head to toe.
Haechan stays for a split second, just to watch you and your friends erupt in a fit of giggles while Jeno picks at his wet robes.
He smiles triumphantly before slipping out into the hallway and sprinting to the Slytherin dormitory.
Haechan 1, Jeno 0
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The first night back at Hogwarts; The first night back home.
You and your dormmates lounge in the common room and stare into the fire whilst making small talk. It had been a while since seeing them, but you had kept in touch out in the muggle world.
Jihyo hung her head over the arm of the couch, the rest of her body sprawled out and cozily covered with a blanket, attempting to toss popcorn in the air and catch it in her mouth. Her success rate, however, left the floor scattered with smashed pieces and kernels.
Mina sat on the end of the couch with Jihyo's feet in her lap, occasionally contributing to the conversation but mostly engrossed in her textbooks. It wasn't even the first day of actual classes, yet here she was, staying ahead. If you didn't know her kind nature, you'd think she belonged in Ravenclaw.
You were slung in the other chair opposite of them, fiddling with your wand. The end was slightly cracked from where you had accidentally stepped on it one day and it was worrying you. The last thing you needed right now was another trip to Olivanders.
“I’m just saying Y/N, I think Jeno really does like you!” Jihyo insisted, throwing another piece of popcorn in the air only to get hit in the face with it seconds later.
Mina snorts without looking up and Jihyo makes a face at her that she doesn’t see but leaves you giggling. You twist your wand around your fingers, something you learned back in second year, “Well if he does, he hasn’t said anything.”
Mina hums in agreement but Jihyo thinks differently, “He wouldn’t have offered to take you broom flying after hours if he didn’t like you.”
Shrugging your shoulders you turn to the fire, the burning warmth spreading over your chest. “Maybe he just wants some pussy.”
“Well, you better take the chance before I do. He can show me his broomstick anytime.” She winks in your direction sending you into a giggle fit. Mina rolls her eyes but continues reading her textbook. The both of you were used to Jihyos sexual jokes, but they never failed to make you laugh and Mina cringe.
A brief silence passed before you spoke, “Okay, but you have to agree, whoever splashed him at dinner tonight has it coming.”
“What do you mean whoever it was?” Mina piped up, giving you an inquisitive look.
“I didn’t see who it was, did y’all?” you asked, mildly confused. The water had seemingly come out of nowhere, and everyone around Jeno had denied responsibility. With everyone denying it, you suspected it might have been one of the lingering spirits.
“Are you kidding me, Y/N? He couldn’t have been any more obvious,” Jihyo said incredulously, sitting up to look straight at you, abandoning her bag of popcorn.
Were you supposed to have known who the culprit was? You were too busy watching Jeno splutter and gasp to have paid much attention to your surroundings. One thing she said caught your attention, “He?”
“Haechan? Lee Donghyuck?” Mina says slowly.
Jihyo chimed in, “He was walking toward our table all angry, and then when he made it to the doors, he turned around and used the Aguamenti spell.” Your mouth dropped open with every word she said, “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice?!”
“I didn’t!” you argue defensively.
“Oh, and before that, he was staring at you.” Mina added, closing her textbook and standing up, dumping Jihyo's feet on the ground.
“I knew he was staring.” You say, chewing on your bottom lip, “Are you guys for sure he was the one?”
“I’m telling you,” Jihyo starts, “We both saw him.”
Emotions bubble in your chest. You were pissed off for sure. Who did Haechan think he was getting in your business like that, especially given the history, or lack thereof.
Ever since you met the Slytherin boy, he had despised you. There was something about you that completely irritated him, and no matter how hard you tried, he just wouldn’t be your friend. He wouldn’t even talk to you, only stare and mess with your relationships. Every time you were getting close with a boy, he would get in the way, first with Mark and now Jeno? This was becoming an issue, and one that you needed to correct soon.
“I’m heading to bed.” Mina says, waving goodbye and heading off to her room.
You and Jihyo are left to stare at each other. She narrows her eyes down to slits, “Don’t get any ideas.”
“I’m not,” you spun the wand faster around your fingers, twisting and spinning it until it dropped into your palm, “I’m just going to remind him who the hell I am.”
“That’s not very Hufflepuff of you.” she giggles, reaching for more popcorn and shoving it in her mouth.
Your grip your wand tightly, “Hufflepuff or not, Lee Donghyuck needs to learn who he’s fucking with.”
As you pondered your next move, Jihyo leaned back and said, "You know, a well-placed hex might jog his memory."
"No. Not a hex. He get's one warning. His only warning."
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Haechan knew you were after him.
The past couple days consisted of him dodging your every attempt at waving him down. After classes dismissed, he was up and out the door in the blink of an eye, he never showed his face at the great hall, and when you caught sight of him during his quidditch practice, he disappeared while everyone else headed to the locker rooms.
Three days after the water incident, you catch him.
The professor asked him to stay back after class, supposedly to discuss his recent test scores. So, when the bell rang, you lingered outside the classroom door. A couple of minutes later, Haechan emerged, his blonde hair paired with a scowl etched onto his face. He made a beeline in the opposite direction, but you had other plans.
“Lee Donghyuck!” you shout, attracting stares from the other students milling about the corridor. You scurry over to him and tug his arm, his eyes shooting down to where you made contact “We need to talk.”
He glanced around, ensuring no one was watching, and cleared his throat. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
The threats you had rehearsed - the biting warnings you promised Jihyo you'd give him...they all catch in the back of your throat when you look up and make eye contact. It was almost condescending the way he looked down at you, without even saying anything, he made you feel small.
"I—um, I want you to leave me and Jeno alone," you managed to say, attempting confidence but knowing there was little force behind the words.
He knew it too.
His eyebrows shoot up, “I’m sorry darling, I’m not quite sure what you mean.”
Oh, how good he was at feigning innocence.
Too bad you knew he was a big fat fucking liar, “The whole Aguamenti spell you did the other night in the great hall? Yeah, I know it was you.”
His jaw clenches and he reaches for his wand to twirl around his finger – something he did when he was nervous. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit Haechan. Me and my friends saw you do it.”
As more people stared at the confrontation in the middle of the hallway, you considered finding a more private place, but you knew he wouldn't follow.
“What do you want me to say? I’m telling you I didn’t do it.” his voice is a low growl, his demeanor darkening and body slightly leaning towards your own. You wouldn’t be surprised if the next words out of his mouth were, ‘now get lost you little freak’.
Deciding to stand your ground, you stared up at him defiantly. However, instead of backing down, he laughed straight in your face, deflating any hope of setting him straight.
“Good one, Hufflepuff.” With a roll of his eyes, he palms his wand in thought. How could a girl like you go for a guy like Jeno? Didn’t you know he was an asshole?
Speak of the devil, he thinks.
A heavy arm wrapped around your shoulders, accompanied by a sweet and cheery voice. "Y/N! Just the girl I needed to see." Jeno's crescent eyes and beaming smile were inches from yours.
Haechan rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. He needs to leave; He should leave, but his feet don’t move when he tries. It felt like he was under a spell.
Yeah, if jealousy was a fucking spell, the thought bitterly.
“I hope you don’t mind me talking to your girl.” Jeno acknowledges Haechan and playfully punches him in the shoulder. The older boy just sneers.
“Oh, I’m not his girl” you declared adamantly.
A derisive scoff rumbles in the depths of Haechan's throat, and a fit of coughing seizes him, forcing him to double over.
“Careful there buddy.” Jeno smirks, harshly slapping Haechan’s back as way to help him catch his breath.  
When the older boy straightens up, a look of pure hatred crosses his eyes and you giggle, “I’m fine, buddy.”
Jeno looks from left to right confused at Haechan’s hostility, but shakes it off and turns to you instead, “I wanted to invite you to the Quidditch game tomorrow night.” A ‘no’ forms on your lips but Jeno is quick to shut it down, “Look… I’ll play better if you’re there. You can be my good luck charm!”
A fake gag sounds from the back of Haechans throat and you stare daggers into him until he throws two hands up and takes a step back.
You turned to Jeno with the intention of declining, citing the need for studying, but his trademark smile was plastered on his lips. Wasn't the point of this conversation with Haechan to be something with Jeno someday?
“I’ll go.” You smile, and Jeno's face lights up like a kid on Christmas.
One second, you were on the ground, and the next, you were in Jeno's strong arms, spinning around. "Yes! You won't regret this, Y/N! You can even wear my jersey if you want!"
He slows down and sets you back on your feet, your head slightly spinning, “Jeno… you do realize you’ll need your jersey on the field.”
“Oh right.” He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “Didn’t think of that.”
Haechan makes an unamused snort, and you notice his hands are balled into fists at his side.
How could Jeno do that right in front of his face?
“I guess it’s the thought that counts.” Haechan spits, and turns on his heel, robes flying behind him as he hurriedly walks away.
“Wait! We still have to talk!” you shout after him, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, just keeps walking until he rounds a corner and disappears.
Why did he have something against Jeno? He hated you anyways. Was his job to make you miserable your entire Hogwarts life? Why was he always in your business?
Jeno startles you out of your thoughts, “Come on, I’ll walk you to class.”
A smile formed on your lips, and you murmured an 'okay' as Jeno looped your arm in his. Unfortunately, Haechan was long gone, along with any hope of setting him straight.
Hopefully he got the message, you think.
It’s the last thought of him before Jeno is tugging on your arm and walking you to class, the smell of cinnamon on his robes and his jovial tone taking home in your head and root in your heart.  
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He can’t stomach the sight of her face, but that doesn’t stop him from fucking her.
Who was she? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. She was wet enough and that was all that mattered. Thrusting into her sopping cunt was what she was here for, nothing more, nothing less.
His mind drifts while he pounds into her, the image of Jeno dragging you away, his arm slung over your shoulders driving Haechan to fuck harder. The girl hollers in pain but doesn’t tell him to stop, just grits her face and bears it, and he doesn’t check to see if she’s okay.
She said she wanted him to fuck her, so that’s what he was doing.
“Hy-hyuck.” She whimpers, fingers digging into his dark green sheets.
A harsh smack lands on her ass, “What, can’t take it Y/ -”
He stops himself before finishing your name. How stupid could he be. This wasn’t you; this could never be you.
Whoever the girl was, she doesn’t notice, too rung up on his cock pushing into her over and over again to understand that he didn’t give a single fuck about her.
Poor girl.
Her legs start to shake, an overwhelming orgasm washing over her right before Haechan pulls out and rolls off the bed, hastily putting on his pants. She’s left to catch her breath on his bed, peering at him from between parted fingers, “You didn’t finish.”
“Don’t need to.” He throws his sweater over his head and starts to fix his tie, “Here.” He picks her yellow robes off the floor and tosses them onto the bed next to her.
“Let me suck you off or something.”
His response is instantaneoous, “I’m good.”
Her voice is soft when she speaks up again, “It’s because of that girl isn’t it… the one in my house, Y/N?”
Was it obvious to everyone else but you? This random fucking girl knew, but you couldn’t catch on? Fucking ridiculous.
His eyes narrow down to slits, “I got to get to class. You better be gone when I get back.”
The door slams behind him, the echo being the only indication he was there in the first place.
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Robes askew and papers flying out of your hands, you rush into potions class at the last possible second.
Jeno is already seated at your shared table, something that’s become normal these last few weeks. Out of the corner of your eye, you take note of Hyuck slumped over a piece of paper, furiously scribbling—probably homework.
Thankfully, the professor nods you off without issuing you a detention slip.
Slamming your books on the flat black table, you hop onto your stool.
“Thought you weren’t gonna show y/l/n” Jeno’s smile stretches from ear to ear, his fingers twirling a quill between them.
“I may not be a Ravenclaw, but I’d never miss a class.”
“Couldn’t bear to miss me?” His flirtatious comments always make your heart skip a beat. Your pulse becomes increasingly erratic, face flushed. A snort sounds from behind you, and when you swivel around, you see Haechan’s face adorned with a sneer. He doesn’t deserve a response from you, no matter how much you want to flip him off.
You turn back around, “I guess I couldn’t…” The blush on Jeno’s face is unmistakable and it warms your heart.
From the front of the room, the professor claps his hands, “Alright class, today we will be doing something I’m sure you’ve done before.”
“Please don’t say truth potion.” You mutter under your breath.
“Not quite, Ms. y/l/n. Today we’ll be brewing amortentia potions! All your ingredients should be in the back of the classroom, gather them and begin brewing! The instructions are on page 287 of your textbook! The first group to accurately brew their potion gets five points on the chapter quiz this week.”
The professor calling you out would be enough to send you into an embarrassed state of tucking your chin against your chest and keeping your head down for the rest of the class, but the mention of extra points on the quiz has you leaping up off the stool and waltzing to the back of the classroom.
Jeno doesn’t even have time to say anything. You’ve never done this potion before, but you know the ingredients by heart, just waiting for the day you get to brew it.
You make it to the ingredients table first, followed by Haechan, who’s furiously flipping through his textbook, trying to find the ingredient list. When he notices your empty hands, he narrows his eyes, “Don’t you need to know what to put in the potion?”
Grabbing various vials and jars of dried leaves, you snort, “Don’t need to. Jealous I know it by heart?”
His eyes slide to yours while he follows your lead and picks up a jar of blue rose petals, “Me? Jealous? Yeah right. That’ll be you when me and Chenle win the extra points.”
“Don’t count on it Hyuck.”
The nickname has him tensing, knuckles going white when he accidentally grips a vial of milky substance too hard. He puts it under his arm and reaches for another vial. Coincidentally, you were reaching for the same one, both of your hands brushing against each other's. Neither of you is hasty in withdrawing.
His Adam's apple bobs in his throat, nervousness flitting across his brow. Before you can make note, he clamps down, and his expression goes stoic again.
Heat pools in your stomach. A sickeningly sweet feeling that leaves you confused when Haechan plucks the vial away and whips around, his robes fluttering out behind his body.
Other students begin crowding the table, so you grab a different vial, the interaction leaving you all too confused.
When you get back to the table, Jeno has already begun heating the cauldron.
The ingredients spill from your hands.
“Have you ever done this before?” Jeno asks, “You didn’t even need the textbook.”
Your voice comes out mumbled, “No. I just know it by heart.”
His own textbook is splayed out in front of him, one finger rubbing down the page to read the ingredients list. Why don’t his hands make you feel like that? Sure, it makes you feel all cozy inside, but it isn’t… hot like that. There;s no heat when Jeno walks hand-in-hand with you in the hallway. Why?
“… petals.”
His voice peeks through your thoughts that were flitting around your skull at a million miles an hour.
“Huh?”
“Why did you grab blue rose petals? It doesn’t say we need them in the book.” He teeters on the edge of his seat as if he wanted to take them back to the ingredients table at the back of the room.
A smirk plays on the edge of your lips, “Haechan was copying what I was grabbing, so to trip him up, I grabbed those. Hopefully, he doesn’t pay close attention to the textbook like you…”
Jeno laughs, “Never would have struck you as the type Y/N.”
“What, too much of a Slytherin thing?” You bite back.
“No…No, I like it. It makes you… I don’t know… hot?”
Your eyes go wide, a laugh sticking in your throat. You cough it up and turn to the spread of ingredients in front of you, “Let's, uh… let’s start so we can get those extra credit points.”
Jeno turns around and so do you.
What you don’t notice is Haechan, who had become immensely interested in your conversation after hearing the word Slytherin leave your lips. The jealousy flickering through his nerves is hotter than the boiling substance in front of him. Oh, how he wishes this was Defense Against the Dark Arts.
He’d love to put Jeno flat on his ass.
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You and Jeno effortlessly master the brewing of amortentia in just twelve minutes, a symphony of perfectly blended scents swirling in your cauldron.
Chenle and Haechan shoot you annoyed glances as their potion turns into a goopy, blue disaster, nowhere close to the enchanting pink hue of yours.
The professor strides over, congratulating the two of you with a smile. He hands each of you golden slips of paper, designating you as the undisputed masters of amortentia potion-making.
Haechan stands with arms crossed, bitterness etched across his face as he joins the students gathered around your table. His jaw clenches when he witnesses Jeno pulling you into a snug side hug.
“Alright! As the first pair to get the potion right, you get the pleasure of telling us what you smell.
Fuck.
His jaw unclenches and instead is replaced by a shit-eating grin.
“W-What?”
Other students nervously chuckle, eager to see if Jeno, the star of Gryffindors quidditch team, would possibly smell their scent.
“I’ll go first y/n. Don’t sweat it.”
Carefully, Jeno leans over the cauldron and lets the steam waft up into his face. He takes a sniff. Another one. Another one. And finally a deep inhale.
“It’s smells like cherries… um, vanilla, I think… and, sweets? Like baked sweets?”
The professor applauds, “Good! Sounds like someone's after a Hufflepuff!”
All eyes turn to you. It's true, the Hufflepuff dormitory is adjacent to the kitchens, but why must everyone assume? Why must it be you?
The professor continues, “You next Y/N!”
Haechans doe eyes follow your figure closely, drinking in the way you lean over the cauldon, the top button on your blouse having come undone, breasts peaking through the top. He feels like a pervert, but he can’t help the stiffness rising in his slacks.
He should’ve had that girl suck him off.
You sniff one, twice, and a third time. Haechan watches as the blood drains from your face.
Why couldn’t it be cinnamon and firewood? Why not something to complement Jeno? It had to be that.
“I smell apples… and, and, um, caramel, and qu-quidditch gear.”
You don’t even have time to assess Jeno or Haechans faces. Jeno knew it was Haechan’s scent. Haechan knew it was his scent. Everyone knew. How could they not? Slytherins best asshole was known for smelling like caramel apples.
Fuck.
Your eyes are downcast, contemplating whether or not to do that chin tuck.
“Alright! Who’s next?”
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“It’s not like it’s our house that’s playing.”
Slumped on the common room couch and stuffing your face with leftover popcorn (thanks Jihyo), your argument doesn’t come across as very convincing – to yourself, or Mina, who stands in front of you with her hands on her hips. “And anyways,” you raise a skeptical eyebrow, “Don’t you have to study or something. You’re not one for quidditch games.”
She reaches for you, snatching the snack bowl out of your hand and plopping it down on the coffee table. “I’m two weeks ahead in every single class. I can afford to skip a day of studying.”
For a moment, you shoot her a glare, sensing there's more to it. “Jihyo put you up to this, didn’t she?”
“Why do you say that.”
“Because I know her.”
“Okay, yes.” She sits down next to you, grabbing your hands. “But come on! Jeno invited you to watch the game and then go to the afterparty. You know how hard it is to get invited to those parties!” She drags out the last syllable, pretending to beg, “And Jihyo said she’d kill me if you bailed.”
You sigh. Jeno did invite you, and he had that killer smile on his lips when he did it. The reminder sends butterflies in your stomach fluttering about. The only reason you were planning to skip out was because you were nervous. And what happened in class yesterday. But that didn’t matter! Gryffindors seeker asking you to come watch him play, and then walking you to class? That made you more than friends, right? You didn’t know how to navigate that without being awkward… and you’d hate to disappoint him.
“Fine, I’ll go.”
Mina squeals next to you and pulls you into a hug. “You won’t regret this! But hurry up, I wanna see if I can spot Renjun before the game.” She smiles to herself, a light blush dusting her cheeks that she tries to conceal.
“Renjun… Isn’t that the boy you’re tutoring in potions?”
She hums in response, a dreamy expression so evident on her face you could almost make out hearts in her eyes. It's like a real-life cartoon.
“You have a crush on him!” you tease, giggling when she holds her arms out defensively and tries to deny it. “That’s why you’re going to the game today! Not because you don’t need to study, but because you wanna see Renjunnnnn.” You draw out his name like you used to do when you were first years.
“Don’t tell Jihyo.” She groans. “She’ll give me hell for it, and I want this to progress naturally on its own.”
“I won’t, I’m just shocked our Mina has a crush!”
You feel happy for your friend. Happy that she’s found somebody who could actually drag her away from being holed up on a Saturday afternoon – it's real progress.
“Enough about me! Go get ready!”
She throws a pillow at you when you leap off the couch, and it hits you square in the chest, both of you thrown into another fit of giggles.
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The stands were so jam packed with students, you thought there was absolutely no way you were going to grab a seat.
That was until you spotted Jihyos yellow Hufflepuff cap sticking out in a sea of Gryffindor gear. It was against house rules to wear anything outside of your house colors, so while you wanted to wear red to support Jeno, the best you could do was the red handheld flags they were passing out at the gate to the field.
A first year Slytherin tried to hand you a green flag, but you upturn your nose and brush him aside. You didn’t hate all Slytherins, but you’d be damned if Haechan caught sight of you supporting his team, especially since it was him pitted against Jeno. It saddened you that he was a seeker like the boy you were there to support; he didn’t deserve the position.
Mina grabs your hand and drags you into the thick of the crowd where elbows jostled you every few seconds and your cheeks were being whipped with waving flags. You duck your head down and try not to trip, a sigh of relief rushing past your lips when you make it to where Jihyo is sitting front row, batting away a couple who were trying to sit in the seats she was keeping for the two of you.
“See!” She yells, gesturing wildly to the two of you walking up, “My friends are here, and these seats are now occupied!” She grabs your wrists and tugs you to sit down.
The couple rolls their eyes and move on to find another seat.
“Bitches.” Jihyo curses under her breath.
“Thanks for saving the seat.” You breathlessly laugh, adjusting your jacket so that you were bundled up. Hogwart winters weren’t for the faint of heart.
Jihyo smirks, “Had to fight off about half the Gryffindor population for this good of a view, but it was worth it.”
On the other side of Jihyo, Mina laughed and clapped her hands at the commotion on the field, right before every other student erupted in cheers, hoots, and hollers.
From your midfield position, you saw the Slytherin team filtering out on the green, brooms in hand.
“WELCOME ALL FACULTY AND STUDENTS TO THE FIRST HOME GAME OF THE SEASON!! PLEASE WELCOME OUR SLYTHERIN TEAM!” The announcer's voice boomed, rattling through the entire stadium.
As much as you resisted cheering, Mina was there to support Renjun, so you gave a few half-hearted claps on her behalf, earning dirty looks from the surrounding Gryffindors. You were in the wrong section if you wanted to support the snakes.
You weren’t looking for him, but Haechan’s blonde hair immediately grabs your attention. He’s smiling, all sharp and smug, and you can make out green face paint dotting the side of his neck. It irked you that he was soaking in the cheering – you bet he got off to on the attention. What? With him being the infamous Slytherin seeker? It went straight to his head, and you knew it.
The team hopped on their brooms and flew around the students, tossing Slytherin gear into the stands as they weaved in and out of the sections. When Haechan passed, he blew you a kiss and winked, infuriating you to the point your face flushed hot.
“Ignore him.” Jihyo rolls her eyes and gives your hand a squeeze, “He’s trying to get you mad. Jeno will put him in his place.”
The thought of Jeno putting him in his place warms your heart. Oh, how good that’ll feel.
Once the Slytherins stopped showing off, the crowd went relatively quiet, waiting for the real star of the show to come out. A thrumming chant started somewhere opposite your section, and soon enough, the entire student body was collectively roaring for Gryffindor.
“WE WANT BETTER, WE WANT MORE, SHOW US GRYFFINDOR!!”
A rumble goes through the crowd right before cold air whips your face and a sea of red jerseys flies over your head. It makes you laugh giddily, and your eyes desperately search for number seven – Jeno.
It takes a second, but soon enough your eyes are locked on his lean figure which presses forward on the thin broom stick. He looked good.
Jihyo goes fucking wild beside you, “There’s your man!” she screeches, and you let out a belly laugh. You both watch as he makes his rounds around the towers filled with cheering students – each and every one until he gets to yours.
“You look beautiful” he shouts, and a dozen girls around you squeal in adoration. He was talking to you though, and you knew it. His eyes sparkle when he gives you a wink. “Wish me luck.” he mouths.
“Omg how cute are you two!?” Jihyo swoons.
You pressed a kiss to your palm and then blew it to him – a signal of your affection. With a wide eye-smile, he grabbed it out of the air and pressed it to his lips.
It was then and there that you decided you were going to kiss him after the match. All too quickly, he flew away, and you watched as he went.
Not two seconds later, a new Gryffindor player was in front of you, balancing on the tail end of his stick. Johnny, you remembered his name.
His jersey was tucked between his teeth, his abs on full display, which sent the hoards of girls around you into a screaming fit. You caught a quick glimpse before he spat the hem out of his mouth.
“Y/N, you want us to win?” He asks, his voice a deep timbre.
You were shocked that he was talking to you – let alone that he knew your name.
Gingerly, you nod your head.
“I bet. You coming to the party after?”
This interaction was so bizarre, and all Jihyo and Mina did to help was stare at the six-foot, built, fine specimen lingering only three feet in front of you.
“Jeno invited me.” For some reason, a blush settles on your face, and you fight the urge to cover it.
“Bet you’re gonna have a fun time with him after.” A dazzling smirk plastered itself on Johnny’s face. “You should ask him if he’ll let you ride his broomstick. I heard he’s a good teacher. It should be fun.” He flew around so quickly it left you blinking in his wake. Over his shoulder, you heard him call out, “See you after, prize girl.”
The entire twenty-second conversation left you reeling, and you tucked a mental note away to ask Jeno about it later.
From across the field, a certain Slytherin seeker was seething. Both his hands grabbed the broom so tightly his knuckles turned white. If he applied any more pressure, it would have broken.
The fuck was Johnny talking to you about? Did it have to do with Jeno? What did you see in him anyways? What did Jeno have that he didn’t? Did he have to prove himself? Yes, he thinks. That’s what he’ll do. He’ll win this match to prove to you that he’s better than Jeno. Maybe then you’ll truly see him – and give him a chance.
Game on.
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Two minutes were left in the last quarter, and it was neck and neck.
Green and red jerseys fly around each other.
The stadium echoed with the thunderous cheers as the Quaffle exchanged hands between the opposing teams. The bludgers were like rogue comets, threatening to disrupt the fluid dance of the players. Jeno and Haechan had their eyes fixed on the glittering snitch.
A collective gasp filled the arena as Haechan executed a daring spiral dive, narrowly avoiding a bludger. Simultaneously, Jeno executed a swift roll, evading a clever attempt by the opposing team to intercept him.
The golden snitch continued to flit teasingly ahead, leading the seekers on a merry chase.
You grip onto Jihyo and Mina as the game comes to a crescendo.
It happens so quick you almost miss it, but in three seconds everything changes.
Three.
Jeno becomes unbalanced, teetering sideways on his broom that keeps flying straight. His eyes are locked on yours when a wave of pure panic engulfs his sweaty features.
Haechan flies past him, one hand outstretched towards the golden snitch that loomed just mere inches from his fingertips.
Two.
He flips over the side of his broom, hands reaching out to try and catch himself. One by one his fingers tap the stick, not able to gain any purchase, and then he’s falling.
The other seeker presses ahead, dodging his teammates who don’t have time to get out of his way with how fast he’s flying.
One.
Jeno’s body slams into the grass field beneath the players, his broomstick landing next to his broken figure. He doesn’t get up, doesn’t scream in pain, doesn’t move.
Haechan's hand closed around the golden snitch, a victorious shout echoing from him and his teammates. He turned, searching for you in the crowd, but your gaze was fixed on Jeno.
Zero.
Shouts and cries erupt from the crowd, half in victory and half in shock. Someone screams Jeno’s name and you’re not sure if it’s your own shout, or if that person was just really close by.
With wide eyes, you watch as a bunch of medical staff rush towards him on the field and surround his body. Your body becomes ice cold and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat.
Please let him be okay; he has to be okay.
The Slytherin team flies around the field, visiting their supporters in the stands while everyone else’s eyes are on Jeno.
Jihyo grabs your shoulders and gasps when a white medical cot is lifted onto the shoulders of a few Gryffindor players.
“He’s okay. He’s okay.” Mina repeats, taking hold of your hand between hers and you almost sob in relief when you see him wiggling around in the cot, moans of pain falling from his lips too low for your ears to pick up.
Haechan watches from a distance, eyes wide in shock when he takes notice of Jeno’s condition and when he looks up, he sees your dormmates consoling you. He wanted to fly over to you and ask if you’re okay, but he knew you wouldn’t want to hear it, not when Jeno was hurt.
Once Jeno and the medical staff made it off the field, the stands began to clear out, but you feel like you can’t move.
“Come on.” Jihyo murmurs, pulling you up and wrapping an arm around you. It was silly that they had to take care of you like this when you weren’t even the one who was hurt.
When you made it to the bottom of the stand, you huddle together in a group.
Jihyo, with her arm still wrapped around you, gave you a side hug. “I’m sure he’s fine.” Mina nodded in agreement, but you started biting your nails – not that there was much to bite, lord knows they were almost stubs as it was.
Another person slides into your tight group, and you don’t notice until you hear his voice, “The scorekeepers say there was no evidence of foul play.”
When you looked up, you were surprised to see who you thought was Renjun. When he noticed your gaze, he gave a soft smile.
“That’s bullshit,” Jihyo declares, “We all know who did it, and he’s on your fucking team.”
Renjun just shrugs and slides an arm around Mina, and despite the timing and circumstance, you raise an eyebrow at her. She waves you off and slides her attention to Renjun, “Everyone knows it was Haechan.”
“Well, the scorekeepers say otherwise.”
You felt like screaming and crying and running away all at once, but you just stood there, biting your nails.
“I know I probably shouldn’t be asking right now,” Renjun's eyes flickered to you before looking away quickly, “But, I wanted to invite you guys to the after-party. I don’t need an answer, just show up if you want to, and I’ll have Chenle watching for you guys at the door. It starts in half an hour.” He started to pull away from the group but turned back at the last second. “By the way, Y/N, I’m sorry about Jeno. Just because I’m on the opposite team doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad.”
A hum falls from your lips and then he’s off.
“Well, if I need anything right now, it’s a fucking drink,” Jihyo joked, but one look at you, and her laughter died.
Mina is more concerned with you, “We won’t go if you need us.”
“No,” you blurted, dropping your hands from your face. “I –” A particularly loud shout jarred your attention away, and when you looked around to find the culprit, you saw the entire Slytherin team gathering to your right. Haechan stood in the center only long enough for you to make out it was him, then he was being hoisted onto his teammates' shoulders. His eyes met yours, and he smirked, lifting a hand to wave at you. It took everything in you to not storm over there and punch the absolute shit out of him. He wished he was your fucking priority, but that wasn’t the case.
“You sure?” Mina asks, snapping you out of your murderous thoughts.
“I gotta go check on Jeno.” You give a small smile, “Save me a drink?”
Jihyo and Mina both nodded, and before you walked off, you threw a middle finger at Haechan, who caught sight and clasped his chest like he was dying.
It pissed you off, but you had bigger priorities right now.
Haechan would have his turn.
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As the cheering fades, the screams take over.
Deep, guttural screams of someone in agonizing pain echo through the empty castle halls leading right to the medical wing. They come in bursts; long strings of curses, grunts, and broken yells, and it makes you inwardly cringe because you knew who they belonged too.
“Jeno…” you whisper, after hearing a particularly jarring shriek.
After rounding the corner, the tall double oak doors loom in front of you, inviting you to join Jeno in his agony, or at least be there to comfort him. Pushing them open, you reveal a large, brightly lit room sectioned off by blue plastic curtains and medical cots. On the left side of the room, you see a nurse tending to who must be Jeno, but you can’t see his face.
You can hear him though.
His voice is amplified ten-fold now that you were in the same room, and instinctively you raise your hands to plug your ears but shake it off. Tentatively you walk over.
“Goddamn Slytherin.” You hear him groan, legs twisting in discomfort when the nurse applies pressure to his arm. It’s evident he’s never been in this much pain before.
“Jeno?” You whisper, startling the nurse who accidentally puts too much pressure on his arm, causing him to jerk away from her, a yelp passing his thin lined lips.
Her hands pepper over his body in apology, not turning her head to look at you, “You shouldn’t be in here.”
“I know.” You whisper, and she doesn’t press any further on why you’re there or ask you to leave, so you stay.
Jeno doesn’t even seem to notice you, but that doesn’t matter. You shift around the bed slightly and catch sight of his face. Both his eyes are shut, one ringed in purple and his bottom lip split in two separate places. His nose seemed to get busted in the fall as it was surrounded by dark red, almost black, dried blood. A few droplets splattered on his shirt, accompanying the grass and dirt he had slammed into after falling thirty feet from the sky,
As bad as it may sound, you’re glad Jeno only broke his arm. A fall from that height could have meant paralysis or worse, death. He truly got lucky.
You stand quietly, watching as she shifts Jeno’s arm into a sling, securing it with a couple items you don’t know the name for and then popping a few muggle meds in his mouth. Lifting a glass of water to his lips, he groans, knocking back the pills.
It never sat right with you how the nurses used muggle methods of healing when there were more than a fair share of spells that could work much quicker. It was as if they wanted you to stew in your own misery.
Wasn’t the point of magic to make things easier?
Your thoughts are cut off by the nurse brushing past you, arms full of medical supplies. “Visiting hours are over in twenty minutes. Make it quick.” She warns, before walking away.
“Why are you here.” Jeno groans when she leaves the room, eyes still sticking shut.
“I –”A dull ache lands on your heart and the words catch in the back of your throat, a sudden cough clearing them away.
His lip curls into a sneer, “Spit it out y/l/n,”
The aggression radiating off of him makes you stumble back but you don’t let it scare you. You knew Jeno and he wasn’t scary… or so you thought.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” You speak quietly, like any word above a murmur would startle him and hurt him worse.
“Obviously, I’m not fucking okay.” His voice is nasally, mocking you, “But you don’t care, do you? Bet you’re just here to make sure I don’t snitch on your little boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” Your eyes narrow down to slits. It angered you that Jeno thought you would give any time of day to the little prick who kept messing with you.
“You should tell him that.”
His eyes snap open and home in on you, glaring from his spot on the bed. Uncomfortable in his position, he squirms a bit, trying to right himself, but he grunts and falls back down, the pain too much for him.
‘You should tell him that.’
The words bounce around the inside of your skull. Did Haechan think you were together? Think he had some kind of weird ass claim over you?
"Jeno –”
“You know I can’t even play quidditch now that my arm is broken. My fucking arm Y/N.” Tears form in the corner of his eyes, whether from the pain or the prospect that he was out for the season, you weren’t sure, “He knocked me off my broom. That’s like… that’s like attempted murder!” he splutters, a crazed expression overtaking his face.
As much as you disliked the guy, there was no way he was capable of murder. No, this was due to his unrelenting jealousy, and someone needed to set him straight.
“Oh, come on, it’s not attempted –”
Jeno’s free hand is shoved in your face, one finger pointing at you patronizingly, “Yes, it is. You and I both know he’s a crazy son of a bitch, and he obviously has something for you so stay the fuck away from me.”
“Really, can we just talk?”
He shakes his head, “No. Get the fuck away from me and keep your little boyfriend in check.”
“For the last time, he’s not –”
“I don’t care what he is! The both of you need to leave me the fuck alone.”
Your heart breaks.
It wasn’t because you liked him. No, that wasn’t it. You just thought this could have been the start of something new since your love life had been wrecked for years thanks to the one and only Lee Donghyuck.
You can’t believe he had the audacity to wreck it again.
“I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out in a whisper, way too low for him to hear, but he waves you off anyway, “I’ll go.”
He doesn’t say anything; doesn’t even watch as you turn your back and walk away, past the blue plastic curtains and out the heavy double doors. The more steps you take, the heavier your heart feels in your chest. Tears burn in your eyes and anger clouds your head with each passing second like poison.
Haechan wasn’t getting away with this, you were going to make sure.
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You see fucking red.
Storming through the halls of Hogwarts was a rare occurrence for you, but today was different. People gasped as you briskly brushed past them, your head so hot it felt like smoke might billow from your ears. Annoyed shouts of 'hey' or 'watch it' barely registered as you descended the stairs leading to the ominous 'Slytherin Dungeon.' The air grew colder with each step, mirroring the iciness in your gaze. Thoughts of pounding Haechan's face swirled in your mind, and you couldn't shake the fiery anger fueling your every move.
You knew if Jihyo was here she would make fun of your anger, claiming that you didn’t belong in Hufflepuff with your temper.
Too bad she wasn’t.
Maybe she could have calmed you down, slowed your racing heart and spoken some sense into your hard head, but alas, she wasn’t, and you were only growing more furious by the second.
Reaching the bottom of the staircase, you rounded a corner and collided with a Slytherin you recognized as Chenle, thanks to Renjun's heads up. His light green hair parted down the middle, coupled with the trademark Slytherin resting bitch face, transformed into a smirk upon seeing you.
“Y/N! Glad you could make it!” His voice is deeper than you would have thought, and he was much taller when you walked up to him.
"Yeah, yeah, let me in." Impatiently tapping your foot, you watched as he opened the door, revealing the booming bass of the music inside.
"Say hey to him for me." Chenle grinned, extending an arm to welcome you.
You pushed past him, retorting over your shoulder, "You can tell Renjun yourself." Confusion flashed over his face, but the door slammed shut before further words could be exchanged, sealing you inside.
The ambiance in Slytherin territory starkly contrasted with your dorm. Damp darkness replaced the natural sunlight, and the air carried the scent of spicy cologne rather than the comforting aroma of food.
Thank God I wasn’t placed in Slytherin, you think.
Music reverberates off the walls and lands loudly on your eardrums, a soft green glow emitting from the end of the hallway. Conversation and laughter can be heard just slightly above the music, and you follow it till you’re at the end of the corridor and in the den of the snakes.
Green.
There’s green everywhere.
But your dormmates were nowhere to be found. In fact, all you saw in every direction were green robes with the occasional pop of yellow and blue.
No Gryffindors, interesting.
A hand lands on your arm and you jump back at least ten feet.
"Woah, it's just me." Renjun's eyes crinkled with a smile as he extended a drink towards you. You accepted it with a silent 'thank you.'
"Your friends are in the bathroom, I think, but I can wait with you if you like." Renjun's politeness caught you off guard. This has got to be the nicest Slytherin boy you’ve ever met.
As you took a sip of the bitter liquid, you mused, "No need to wait with me... I came to see someone real quick, and then I'll be on my way."
"I know he deserves it, but go easy on him, okay?" Renjun's words hung in the air, causing you to stare at him with disbelief. Sensing your anger, he quickly stepped back, raising a hand. "You know what, forget I said anything."
Cocking your head, you smiled, "Know where I can find him?"
Renjun simply pointed behind you.
Turning around, you spotted the boy in question, lounging on a couch stripped of his robes. Clad in a white button-up shirt and black slacks, Haechan exuded an air of arrogant nonchalance. Two girls clung to either side of him, and a few friends surrounded him, exchanging laughs and banter.
"Thanks, Renjun." You mutter, not bothered to look behind you and see that he wasn’t standing there anymore.
You down the rest of your drink in one gulp and leave the plastic solo cup on a random side table as you stalk over to where the blonde headed boy was lounging. When you push past his friends, his eyes snap to you.
“Glad you could make it.” He beams, eyes washing over your body. You were in that damn skirt, and it drove him fucking wild.
Ignoring him, you placed your hands on your hips. "Get up."
He chuckled, patting his thigh. "Why don't you sit down and enjoy the party?" Laughter erupted from his friends, and the girls hanging off his arms glared at you.
“Get. Up.” You seethe.
“Feisty aren’t you.” He murmurs, shrugging off the girls at his side and standing up.
“Lead the way to your room.”
A few hoots and hollers followed you as he guided you away from the party and into the hallway. "Can't wait to get your hands on me?"
Ignoring him, you followed, your gaze trailing from the back of his neck to his shoulder blades visible through the sheer fabric of his shirt. The muscles rippled as he opened the heavy door of his bedroom, and you had to tear your eyes away before saying something stupid.
The room was as expected, draped in dark green bedding and scattered quidditch gear. The scent of him surrounded you, reminiscent of that damned amortentia brewing session.
While he walks further into the room, you slam the door shut and spin around, “Where the hell do you get off – ”
“Right there.”
“What?” You blink.
“I get off right there.” He jabs a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his bed, “Almost every night, unless I have a match the next day. You know, gotta keep the tension building so I do my best…”
You groan, “You’re unbelievable.” He chuckles a bit and steps closer to you, igniting the nerves that were already high strung, on fire, but you push the thought away, “Why do you feel the need to fuck around with the guys I like.”
“I was trying to win the game. Trust me, you and your relationship was nowhere on my mind.” What a fucking lie, he thinks. “I’m flattered you were thinking about me though.”
“Are you always this full of yourself?” You bite.
He flashes a beaming smile, pearly white teeth on display and you wished you didn’t stare too long at his canines. He had such a pretty smile and you wished you didn’t have to notice it. “When you look like I do, it’s kind of hard not to be.”
“Slytherin suits you, huh?” you sneer.
“Exactly.” He reaches an arm overtop of you and semi cages you against the door and his body, “So now that’s cleared up, can I go back out there and celebrate my win?”
He was so close to you, his lips only inches from your own, and his cologne was wafting up in your face sending you into a daze. God he was so cute, no not cute – hot. He was hot. You wonder what it would feel like to stretch your neck and kiss him. Did he taste how he smelled?
The fucking drink.
Whatever Renjun had given you was reaching your bloodstream way faster than muggle alcohol. You make a mental note to rip his head off later, but for now you turn your attention back to Haechan’s insanely close face.
“You need to realize –”
He cuts you off again, “Look, I’m all for being in here with you, but if you insist on keeping that pretty mouth running, I suggest you put it to good use instead of chastising me.” His eyes flicker from your own to your lips, almost like he was thinking about kissing you just as much as you were thinking about kissing him.
Do it, just kiss me, you think, but different words are said, “You wish.”
“Yeah, I do.” He quips.
“Can’t you be serious for one fucking second you asshole.” A drawn-out groan escapes you as you press your hand against him, hoping to coax him into backing off. Regrettably, he remains a solid wall of muscle and strength, unmoved by your attempts.
“Sorry, it’s just hot when you insult me. Do it again” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and leans in, one hand reaching out to caress the underside of your jaw.
He doesn't know where the newfound confidence was coming from. You were supposed to hate him, yet he had you in his bedroom. The same bedroom where he thought about fucking you. Where he got off to the memories of that goddamn mirror. Where he fantasized about you slotting your thighs on either side of his head, and sitting down on his waiting lips.
You swat his hand away, “Do you have any idea how stupid you are?”
“Not as stupid as you would look with a cock in your mouth.”
Wishful thinking, he muses.
You roll your eyes at his remark, but nonetheless a heat surges between your legs. You would look stupid – but Haechan’s cock in your mouth sounds all too great. “Are you done?”
“Done with what?”
You roll your eyes. Again. “Being an idiot.”
“Would an idiot make you flush so easily like this?” He strokes a stray hair behind your ear, his fingertips burning against your skin, “See? I make you flustered. You want me. Badly.”
Again, wishful thinking.
“You think I want you badly?” You scoff, a hand coming in contact with his crotch, “You’re the one hard. Do you get off on hurting people?”
“Yes.” He stares into your eyes, a mischievous glint shining in them, “I do.”
“God you’re fucking pathetic.”
He groans and pushes his hips into your hand. “Say it again.”
A loud and drawn-out gasp leaves your lips, “No fucking way you’re getting off on this too.” His dick twitches in his pants at your accusation.
“You talk too much. Just suck my dick already.”
Third times a charm.
Seeing him like that, pliant underneath your hand… it makes your heartbeat erratic and your face flush. You could tell he wanted it, and he wanted it bad, so why didn’t you give in to it? Give in to him? The air around you shifts and whatever it was, it has you lowering yourself down onto the floor so that you were kneeling below him, hands clawing at his belt buckle.
His eyes widen when he realizes what you’re doing. “I was kidd –”
“Is this what you want?” you coo, “Want me on my knees like this?” You slip his belt through the loops slowly and muster up the most innocent smile you could.
“You should stop, I was kidding.” He grunts, forearms tightening when you get his belt off and start on his pants button.
“I think you should shut up.”
He complies and doesn’t say a word while you pull both his pants and boxers down till they pooled around his ankle and he kicked them off.
Lee Donghyuck had a right to be cocky.
His cock sprung up against his abdomen standing tall and hard, clear, sticky precum droplets collecting on his tip. He fidgets under your gaze, but you were in awe at how big he was.
“Are you just gonna look at it?” He whines, one of his hands wrapping around your head and fisting tightly in your hair, “At least kiss it or something.”
You watched him twitch slightly as the cold air met his length, and again when your hand wandered past his thigh to grip him in your palm, squeezing him tightly at the base. He shivers into your touch, “You have a pretty dick.”
“So, I’ve been told.” He all but moans and tries to bring your head forward.
His neediness draws you closer, and you take him in your mouth. He was heavy and sweet, so fucking right for you that you don’t think straight and take him all the way in till he hits the back of your throat.
“Fuck.” He groans, holding your head down till you were choking and batting his thighs.
When he lets up, you gasp for air though you don’t find yourself mad, instead, you feel the fire in your stomach growing hotter and the wetness in your panties pooling.
“Ke-Keep going.” He stutters, the intent was strong, but his words broke in the moment.
You turn you head and lick from the base of his cock to his tip, relishing the way he bucks his hips into your fist. A rosy blush covers his neck and cheeks when you look up at him. When you meet his doe eyes, they were hooded with lust. For a split second he watches you lick all over him, giving a few small kisses on his tip, before he rolls his head back and closes his eyes.
Messily, you spit on his tip, using your hands to spread it down his length and he groans into the stilled air. “You’re so fucking hot.”
“So, I’ve been told.” You mock his earlier words, and his hold on your hair tightens as a warning.
Rolling your eyes, you take him in your mouth again, leaving your hand to pump his base while you harshly suck at his hot skin. He tries to push into the back of your throat again but knowing that you couldn’t take him again without choking, you dig your nails into his thighs, leaving him to shamelessly whimper out.
“Your mouth feels so fucking good baby.” He grunts, losing himself in the way your warm mouth glides down his length, and the right amount of pressure you’re squeezing around his base. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend it was your cunt he was pounding into.
You hum around his cock at the praise and repeat your movements, slightly taken aback by his pet name. In the back corner of your mind, you hope it was just a slip of the tongue.
The alcohol had too much of a hold on you to think about anything else other taking his cock down your throat, and loving every second. 
His chest begins to heave, and his legs start to shake bit as you draw him deeper down your throat, and when you look up, you notice his curious eyes watching you. He thinks about unbuttoning his shirt but pushes the thought aside when you erratically rub the underside of his length with your tongue.
“Bet you love the taste of my cock.” He whispers and you moan around a mouthful of him, the vibrations sending him into a euphoric head high.
He wasn’t wrong. You loved this, loved the feeling of having him slightly submissive under you with his dominant nature peeking through a bit.
It felt like a fucking dream.
“Can I cum down your throat?”
You’re shocked that he’s close already, but with the palpable tension beforehand acting like foreplay, you shouldn’t be. You try and nod to the best of your ability and you guess he gets the message because he’s fisting your hair again and drawing you close, a string of curses falling from his lips.
Uncontrollable gasps and grunts leave him as he fucks your throat, leaving you to helplessly take it – take all of him, and before you know it, hot white cum is shooting down your throat, his head thrown back as he snaps his hips against your face.
You felt like a rag doll in his grip but that didn’t matter right now, all that mattered was swallowing his arousal, a bit of it landing on your tongue and while you thought it was going to taste salty, you’re mildly surprised to find its sweet.
“My god, I can’t believe you actually did that.”  He pants, moving to put his slacks back on while you stand up and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, “I – Thank you.”
A darker blush flushes on his face and he turns to you now fully dressed. He wasn’t sure what to say now, and that was a first for him.
“Are you happy?” You spit, a bout of spite coming out of nowhere, “Did you get what you wanted? Will you leave me and Jeno alone now?”
He stumbles back like your words had a physical effect on him, “What are you talking about? You dragged me in here?”
Where did the sudden flip of emotion come from? One minute you had his cock in your mouth and the next you’re yelling at him again. The both of you can’t come up with an answer, but somewhere in your brain you knew it was your way of trying to convince yourself the rising feelings you were having towards him weren’t a thing; would never be a thing.
“Just leave me and Jeno alone now. Okay?”
You straighten your blouse and fix your hair before opening the door behind you and storming out. He tries to follow you, half stumbling through the hall till he was out in the party again where his friends clap him on the back, congratulating him on ‘hitting that yellow tail’, but he can’t find it in himself to smile and jeer back. All he does is watch you storm away, his friend Renjun reaching out for you. Your dormmates try and stop you but you blow past them and round the corner where the door to the stairs were.
Should he let you go?
Or should he follow?
"Fuck this."
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TAGLIST. @txpxwxk @sunshinedhyuck @honeym4rk2 @saenora @peachjaem00 @grassbutneo @capri-cuntz @seajae @kenmathegreat @aliceinwhateverland @fraechan @monyuno @meowniee @ggukkyu @quarter-life-crisis2 @nominsgirl @dewydew @httpxelysian11 @rainyjeno
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jamjaemin · 6 months
Text
𝘿𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙄 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮'𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙤 𝙖𝙘𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚
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pairing: bf! nct dream x gf! reader
genre: 18+ minors dni, f!reader
summary: headcanons I'm sure 100% they are real bc I said so... and this is my first post here so yeah enjoy♡
Now playing: sos // nct dream
- boys who can cum in their pants by only having his head between your legs as he ruts against the bed. glossy and puffy lips that are slightly parted as he catches his breath.
Heavy on Jisung (his lips be looking perfect after giving you the best time of your life),| Chenle, Renjun
-  has a nasty habit of flicking up skirts you wear just to see what underwear you picked that day
Haechan (He would steal your panties and touch himself to it for sure)
- He has an eye for the arts, for aesthetics, and what's prettier than his little baby wrapped up like a gift for him? He runs his hands softly on your skin as he dexterously ties the knots. He touches all over you and takes the most beautiful pictures of you in the position he set you in.
Renjun ( +he'll paint you naked and prob have a big collection of masterpieces in a private room)
- doesn’t know when it started but he just has to hold onto your thighs whenever he sits next to you
Mark (in public more),| Jaemin (obsessed with them and your ass too)
- his biggest fantasy has always been fucking you on his bike
Jeno, Jaemin (like do I need to explain?...)
- sometimes would take you to these huge dinner parties in the prettiest dress and shoes he could find and walk you around as a tiny bullet vibrator delivered orgasm after orgasm through your poor pussy
heavy on Chenle, | Jeno, Haechan (will tease you about it later)
- loves your breasts so much that he doesn’t care if you’re wearing a shirt. as long as your nipples are poking through, and he can hear the cute hum you always make whenever he licks them, then he’ll gladly latch his mouth onto them through the shirt. when he realizes that you actually like when he does that, then he’ll sneak his hand under your shirt and grope them to make your nipples peek out more.
Mark,Mark,Mark (his big hands are made to grab tits I swear), Haechan, Jisung (he's like a baby sucking on them until they're swollen)
- It doesn’t matter if you’ve taken big dicks before, his dick is different. He could push it in and fill your whole pussy without getting close to being balls deep...he won't stop until you pass out.
Jeno (I know that dick is big and he'll not stop until he see tears falling from your eyes crying and begging for mercy)
Men who are lazy, and like to watch their girl bounce on top of him. Loves when you ride him while bracing your hands on his chest, while his hands are fondling yours. Tugs and pulls on your nipples until you are arching you're back.
Renjun, chenle(enjoys it to the fullest),| jaemin (it takes you a minute to start shaking then letting him take control)
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ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵐʸ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵖᵒˢᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ˡᵒˡ? I hope you enjoyed, bye! :3
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fullsunstrawberry · 4 months
Text
Love Beyond Labels
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synopsis: the misunderstood "rich girl," reveals her academic struggles to a loner with his own challenges. In an unexpected twist, they form a unique friendship—she gets study help, and he gains a true companion.
genre: slice of life, humor, fluff, angst, smut, freaky nerd
warnings**: bullying, swearing, self-hate, mentions of anxiety, jokes of social "suicide", dreamies are kinda mean in this..., no condom mentioned, praising, fingering, marking, lots of boobie touching cause haechan loves them okay, make-up sex, idk probably more lol
word count: 8.9k
a/n: first ever written fanfic....kinda nervous haha
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School is easy, all you have to do is sit there and look pretty. Well, that's what all your classmates thought. They didn't know how difficult school was for you. You never got what was happening in class. Anytime you got an answer wrong, no one batted an eye because who expects the rich pretty girl to get an answer right? But little did they know you would cry in the janitor's room after each time. You just hated feeling so dumb.
"Ugh, I'm not ready for today's test," Jaemin huffed, plopping down beside you.
"Wait, there's a test?" you sighed, already predicting the outcome.
Mr. Moon whispered a half-hearted "good luck" as he handed you the test, before moving on and finishing handing out everyone else’s tests. He already knew how it was going to go.
You hated how even the teachers knew you were stupid.
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After the test, you already knew you failed it. You were the last one to turn your test in, when Jaemin asked if you wanted to meet up with him, Jeno, Mark, and Chenle for lunch. You nodded telling him you had to stop at the office real quick.
Instead of walking towards the office, you sped walked to the janitor's closet, already feeling the tears threaten to escape. You knew you failed that test. Even though you acted like you didn’t know you had a test, you lied. You’ve been studying for it for a long time. Even canceling plans. But you would never admit it to anyone. You studied your ass off but still failed, that’s even more pathetic than forgetting about it.
You quickly took out the keys and opened the door quickly so no other student would see it. You thank the janitor for being so forgetful that you could easily steal one of his keys. He has a bunch of copies, one missing wouldn’t hurt. Right as you locked the door you sat in the corner, not even bothering to turn the lights on.
you were always an ugly crier, but it was okay cause you bought the most expensive waterproof makeup for these occasions. Only a quick bathroom stop is needed before meeting your friends for lunch.
As you were drying your tears you heard the door jiggle and then open. you quickly hid your face just in case it was someone you knew.
"Y/N?" a voice you didn't recognize spoke, interrupting your quiet moment in the janitor's closet.
Confused, you wiped your face and looked up at the mystery voice. You kind of recognized the thick black glasses boy in front of you. You knew he was in some of your classes but you couldn’t think of his name.
Fearing the worst you cleared your throat before asking “What do you want?”
“Uh, I don't want anything!" the boy replied, swiftly stepping into the room and closing the door. You noticed he had his lunch tray with him. "This might sound pathetic, but I like to eat my lunch here."
confused, you asked him “Why would you do that?”
“Well I don’t really have friends and I don’t want to get picked on” he explained sitting down next to you, not having much of a choice because there wasn’t that much room.
"Oh, I'm sorry for bothering you. I'll just go," you said, preparing to stand up. But before you could, he quickly called out your name, making you look down at him.
"You're not bothering me! You can stay and talk about what's going on. I know we don't talk, but I can listen to you." His hopeful eyes convinced you to sit back down. You quickly wiped away your tears before confiding in him.
“You can’t tell anyone this!“ You put your pinky finger up and put it near him. “promise?”
“I don’t have many people to tell” he let out a small laugh while putting his hands up defensively. “promise!” he took your pinky finger in his
“okay” you nodded “I failed my psychology test today”
you looked at his face and he looked confused “What?” you questioned
“Oh it's just, you always fail your tests. Everyone knows that”
As he said that you felt the tears start to come back. Of course, he wouldn’t get it. Why did you ever think he would get it?
“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m so sorry” he panicked “I shouldn’t have said that!”
you turn away, quickly wiping away your tears again. “no I get it, I’m the dumb girl”
"No, no, no, that's not what I meant. Hey, want to hear something embarrassing about me? I'm only here because of a scholarship. That's why no one wants to be friends with me!" he confessed.
you start to giggle “That’s not embarrassing!”
“It made you laugh! But here is something actually embarrassing, my teacher forgot my name today. Even though I've had her for the whole year.”
Your eyes widen, feeling bad that you forgot his name.
“ahh you don’t know my name either”
you smile “If you tell me your name, I’ll forgive you”
“haechan”
“That's a nice name, haechan” You smiled at the way it rolled off your tongue. 
“thank you, I have a proposition or a proposal”
“I know what proposition means” you teased
he giggled, “I’ll help you study”
your eyes lit up, “really? What can I do for you?”
he avoided your eyes and cleared his throat “Be my friend”
your eyes softened “That’s not hard, I was going to be your friend after this conversation anyways” You pushed his shoulder.
He finally met your eyes and smiled at you. “then you don’t have to do anything, friends help friends”
As the bell faintly rang, you pulled out your phone. "Here, give me your number so we can talk."
he paused for a second before taking your phone
standing up and thanking him before you quickly left to go touch up your makeup in the bathroom. Reminding yourself you would have to tell Jaemin you were sorry for ditching him and the guys.
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You walked into your next class as the late bell rang. 
“there you are! Jaemin told me you ditched us” Mark laughed. 
“I didn't mean to ditch you guys, just got carried away.” 
“carried away, with what?” 
“I was working on my psychology essay, and I can't believe she makes us write one every week!” you huffed out, setting your bag down before sitting down. 
“Could have just said you were talking to guys instead of lying.” Mark laughed, too interested in whatever was on his phone to notice your face drop. What did your friends think of you? 
“What do you mean?” 
Mark glanced at you before laughing, “You always procrastinate, there is no way you even started it!” 
Instead of arguing you turned to face the front, pulling out your notebook. The essay is due in two days, of course, you started it. There would be no way for you to finish the four pages if you didn't. Turning towards Mark again you huffed out, “Well someone is helping me study.”
Shocked, Mark quickly faced towards you “What? What happened to y/n?” 
You scoffed, “Really? That surprising”
“I am, you never really cared for grades”
“Well I'm sick of failing every test” 
“So who's helping you out?” Mark leaned towards you “Could have just asked me”
“His name is Haechan”
Mark’s eyebrows furrowed “That one kid that eats in the bathroom?”
“He doesn't eat in the bathroom!” You defended 
“Just be careful, he’s a little weird” 
“What do you mean, you don’t even know him” You started to get upset.
“He doesn't really talk to anyone”  He could see how your face scrunched up and you were about to start an argument with him so he shrugged, not really caring “Why didn't you ask me, I'm one of the top students”
You didn't really want to explain what happened so you just blew his question off. Before he could press you for an answer, the teacher walked in. 
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Haechannie🤓🐻: When do you want to start?
Y/N☺️: I have my psychology paper due soon. Could you read it over before I turn it in?
Haechannie🤓🐻: Yeah meet me at the public library after school 
Y/N☺️: Thanks!
Haechannie🤓🐻: No problem :)
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Jaemin and Jeno are probably thinking you're going crazy when you tell them you didn't need a ride after school. But you didn't want them to drop you off at the library and question you the same way Mark did in class. So you just said you were meeting up with a girlfriend of yours who wanted to walk to the park. At the mention of a girl, they didn’t question anything. 
Now that's how you ended up looking around the library for Haechan. He wasn't on the first or second floor, so you started making your way up to the third floor. Questioning why he even would go all the way up there, no one liked the third floor. As you looked around you spotted Haechan sitting at a table in the corner. 
As he heard you coming, he looked up and smiled. “Took you long enough!”
“Who even uses the third floor of the library, all the books up here are just textbooks.” You huffed out, setting your bag down and taking out everything you needed. 
“That’s the whole point! It’s quiet up here” 
You can admit, that he has a point! Maybe you will actually start using the third floor more. As if you ever go to the public library without your friends dragging you there. Liking your room for studying a lot more because there are no judging eyes. 
“Okay, let’s get started! Let me see what you have already” Haechan smiled at you. 
You pulled out your notebook and quickly found the page you started to write on before handing it to Haechan. As you handed it to him, your fingers brushed, which made Haechan pull away quickly. 
You watched as his eyes read through everything you wrote. Anxiety started to fill you up. What if it was really bad and he thinks you're even more of an idiot than before? Ugh, he’s a nice guy, he wouldn't think like that. But you don’t really know him— Before your inner monologue continues Haechan put down your notebook. Shock showed in his eyes. 
“Wow, that was really good! The way you described Sensation and Perception was easy to understand. How do you usually fail with papers like this?”
Shocked that he actually liked your paper it took you a couple of seconds to register his question. “I usually get good grades on my papers and in-class work, but tests always seem to get to me.” 
“mmm, I understand,” Haechan hummed. “A lot of people have test anxiety, I have some tips I can give you if you want” 
Your eyes lit up as you nodded, eager to hear what he had to say. 
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“It’s getting quite late, maybe we should start wrapping this up?” Haechan yawned. 
You quickly looked at the time, not believing him that it was so late. You gasped, shocked at how quickly time passed with Haechan. “Oh, I better get going, before my mom starts to ask questions.” 
“Yeah, I have to get going too. It was nice hanging out with you.” Haechan quickly gathered up all his things before moving to leave. 
“Wait!” 
Haechan paused looking at you confused. 
“What are you doing tomorrow after class?” 
“Nothing, until I have to go in for work” Haechan sighed “I don’t want to study again tomorrow”
A little taken aback by the change in his tone, you quickly cleared things up “That’s not what I was going to ask you! I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out, like at the mall or something”
you couldn't quite read the emotion on Haechan’s face. Was he shocked? Happy? Confused? Maybe a little bit of each. 
“Oh um yeah, we can hang out.” 
“Good, I’ll text you the details” You smiled before turning away and leaving him to stand there not knowing what was going on in his head. 
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The final bell rang as you rushed out to find Haechan. Earlier promising that you both would take the bus to the mall together. 
Your eyes lit up seeing him standing at the bus stop, calling out a quick “Haechan” to get his attention. Which seemed to work as he found you in the crowd of other students. 
As you finally pushed through all the people to get to Haechan, your face dropped. He wasn't looking at you anymore. “What’s wrong?” 
“You don’t want to be caught hanging out with me, it will ruin your reputation.” He whispered 
Taken aback you laughed, which turned into a heavier laugher. Shocked and confused by your reaction, Haechan turned towards you, watching you laugh like you were crazy. “I’m not joking! Hanging out with me in public is literally social suicide”
You took a couple of deep breaths before answering him “Haechan, this isn't some teen drama! Who even cares about that” 
Haechan looked embarrassed by this and started to fiddle with his fingers. You saw the bus starting to pull up so you took hold of his hand. Stopping him from fiddling with them and making sure you didn't lose him to the crowd of people waiting for the bus. 
If you were paying more attention, you would have seen how bright his cheeks turned. Before quickly snapping out of it. 
As you got onto the bus, you noticed how full it was. Only noticed one seat in the back. quickly you pulled him towards the back and offered him the seat. 
Shaking his head, he told you to sit down. But you insisted that you were okay with standing. Looking around you noticed the other people starting to get annoyed, even hearing an older lady saying she hates teenage couples. 
Before he could protest, you pushed him down onto the seat and sat on his knee. “Are you happy now? It’s a win-win situation, we both get to sit now” You smiled. 
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The whole ride there was silent. Maybe the stunt you pulled on the bus was a little too much for him to handle. 
But you didn't let that stop you from grabbing his hand when the bus finally arrived at the mall. Excitedly telling Haechan about all your favorite stores and sales that are going on right now. 
He didn't seem to care when you kept dragging him to different clothing and makeup stores. It wasn't until you noticed how uncomfortable he was did you realized how rude you were being. 
“Oh shit sorry, where do you want to go next?”
 Taken back by this Haechan quickly tried to brush it off “No it’s okay, where do you want to go next?” Not letting him dodge the question you push him for an answer. “No, come on, let's go somewhere you like next!”
“Uh I like Gamestop” 
“Then we are off to Gamestop, I know where it is because it’s next to my favorite shoe store!” 
Haechan’s eyes lit up when he saw the new Lord of the Fallen had been released. “Cool! I’ve been waiting for this to come out” But as quickly as he picked it up he put it down. 
“You're not going to get it?” You questioned
“Oh no, it’s too much money” He turned to look at other things, leaving you the opportunity to grab and pay for the game without him knowing. 
Finding him in the back, you asked if he was finished looking around. Which earned you a nod. As you stepped out of the store, you held up the bag. “What did you get?” Haechan asked, confused. 
“It’s for you” You giggled handing him the bag. 
He hesitated before looking in the bag and gasping “Y/n, this is $80!” 
“That’s nothing! I love buying my friends things that I know they will like” You smiled, hooking your arm with his. “Now I'm hungry, let's go eat.” 
The food court wasn't your first choice, but haechan insisted. Arguing that he knew you were going to try to pay for his food if you went to some fancy restaurant. Which he is right, you would have. But you settled for paying for his Taco Bell instead. 
“Let's go near the carousel I love the view and plus not a lot of people sit over there”
Haechan nodded, letting you show the way. 
Everything was going very smooth. You wanted to do this again and again. But as you were in your own world you heard voices call out “Hyuck”. Haechan's eyes widened and looked around. 
Two boys, one tall and one short, sat down near you guys. 
“Long time no see, we missed you!” The taller one said either not knowing or not caring about your presence. 
The shorter one cleared his throat before asking Haechan “So are you going to introduce us” 
Haechan laughed nervously before looking at you, pointing to the shorter one “This is Huang Renjun” and then pointing to the taller one who seem to now noticed you were there “And this is Park Jisung” 
Before Haechan could speak you smiled “I'm F/N L/N!” 
Haechan winced at your mentioning your last name. You looked at the other guys and their faces dropped. Confused, you asked “what's wrong?” 
Haechan quickly cleared his throat and explained “It’s nothing! We used to know someone with that last name and so they're just surprised.” 
The two boys looked confused before nodding “Sorry, just bad memories” Renjun forced a smile before getting up and announcing “Oh we’re gonna be late for our movie, let’s go Jisung” 
They left before you could even get in another word. Noticing your shock, Haechan shakes his head “Those are my friends from my childhood, we haven't talked in a while because we go to different schools now.” 
Not wanting to push you just hummed.
Something felt weird but you didn't want to bring it up. Today has been one of your favorites and you didn't want to sour the mood by letting Haechan know his friends acted a bit rude. 
So the whole time you didn't bring it up, instead going back to your cheery self. After a few more stores, you both decided that was enough for today and Haechan really needed to get home so he could get enough sleep before having to go to his part-time job. 
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Soon days, weeks, and months flew by. Hanging out with Haechan really made things go by so quickly. You liked his company. So did your teachers, complimenting you on passing all your tests. One even accused you of cheating, but Haechan stepped in and confessed he had been helping you study.
Even your parents seemed to notice the change in your mood. Your mother loves getting her cheerful daughter back. The only people who seemed to hate the “new and improved y/n” were your best friends. It started with Jaemin accusing you of sleeping with Mr. Moon because he swore there’s no way you could have gotten scored higher on your test then him. Obviously, you were pissed that he could even suggest something like that.
So you ended up admitting to your not-so-secret tutoring sessions to your friends one day at lunch.
“So that's where you've been during lunch?” Chenle questioned. 
“Yes, we’ve been eating in the library together” 
“So you’ve been ditching us for that nerd this whole time!” Jeno’s voice raised, causing some of the other students in the cafeteria to look at your table. 
“Don’t call him a nerd!” 
“But he is one!” Jeno threw his hands up in the air. 
“Just because he gets good grades? Then why don’t you call Mark or Jaemin a nerd?”
“Y/N Come on, why are you defending him? He’s just some loser who eats in the bathroom when you're not at school” Chenle laughed, trying to get everyone to calm down. 
Taken back by how rude your best friends were, you looked around and made eye contact with Haechan. 
He was supposed to meet your friends today. He was really excited after you hyped all of them up. But as he was walking to your table, you could tell that he heard everything. 
You saw how his eyes were starting to water. 
“Maybe he is a nerd but he is way hotter than all of you! Bet he can actually get me to cum unlike any of you” You smirked knowing this would get on their nerves. Hitting it where it hurt, their egos. 
You heard Jaemin scuff, “Yeah right, we all know your type! You wouldn't even kiss him” 
Taking the challenge, you looked around and spotted Haechan again. But this time his face was red and his eyes were wide. You smirked, “wanna bet?” 
The tension in the cafeteria was thick after your bold statement, and all eyes seemed to be on the unfolding drama. Your best friends wore expressions of disbelief mixed with irritation. You made your way over to Haechan.
Haechan's eyes showed surprise, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. You could feel the weight of the challenge in the air as you took a hold of his sweater collar, the fabric warm beneath your fingers. The cafeteria buzzed with hushed whispers and curious glances, but your focus was solely on him.
Pulling him down gently, your lips hovered near Haechan's ear, and you breathed out a teasing question. "Can I?" The words were soft, carrying a hint of playfulness.
In response, Haechan nodded fervently, his eyes wide with anticipation. "Please," he whispered back, his voice barely audible.
With a mischievous smirk, you seized the moment, closing the distance between your lips and Haechan lips. Time seemed to slow as the cafeteria fell into a stunned silence, and then erupted into a mix of gasps, whispers, and scattered applause. The unexpected turn of events had caught everyone off guard, including your best friends, who now wore expressions ranging from shock to disbelief.
Breaking the kiss, you stepped back. You saw how Haechan went to lean back in again. Quickly placing a short kiss to his lips you whispered “everyone watching us” His eyes widened and looked around the cafeteria. Making you giggle and whisper a hushed “Cute”
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After your little stunt in the cafeteria, everyone’s been asking you who that guy was and if you two are dating. You already knew poor Haechan was getting the same questions. 
Y/N😊❤️: People keep asking me if you’re a good kisser
Haechannie🤓🐻: Well am I?
Y/N😊❤️: Absolutely
Y/N😊❤️: What are you doing after school?
Haechannie🤓🐻: Working and then going home
Y/N😊❤️: When do you get off? Want to hang out with you
Haechannie🤓🐻: 9 pm, at the convenience store on the other side of town
Haechannie🤓🐻: we can hang out only if you promise to kiss me again
Y/N😊❤️: we’ll see ;)
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The convenience store was a far walk from your house so you asked your friend Yuna to drive you. But that didn’t stop your parents from scolding you for going out so late. All you had to say was that you were staying over at Yuna’s house. Yuna is your mom's best friend's daughter. She had no problem with this because last summer you had to do the same thing for her. 
There was only a few people at the convenience store. You saw Haechan slumped over at the counter scrolling through his phone. “Aren’t you supposed to be working”
Haechan jumped up from his sitting position, ready to be scolded by his manager. But when his eyes landed on you he shook his head “Ah you scared me! I still have 10 minutes until closing” 
“I wanted to get here early, I heard there is a cute cashier boy here” you smirked
You can already see Haechan’s face start to become a light shade of red. 
“Stop flirting with me, I'm working!” 
Before you could say a comeback, an older guy put down his stuff on the register. 
“She’s just trying to get free stuff” The random guy scoffed
Taken aback you scoff, tilting your head “What do you mean by that?”
“You’re too pretty for him”
You looked at Haechan and saw his head lower. 
Looking back at the guy you laugh “Nerdy guys are the freakiest” you winked
Haechan’s eyes widened, not being able to make eye contact with anyone. 
“All girls are the same” The guy harshly stated before throwing ten dollars on the counter and leaving. 
“How do you know I’m freaky?” Haechan busted out laughing. 
“I don’t but guys hate when their masculinity is threatened” You shrug.
“So what do you want to do after I close” 
“I don’t know, I told my parents I was staying over with a friend tonight. So I’m all yours”
“All mine? I like the sound of that” Haechan smirked leaning in “I live alone”
You gasp “How do you live alone?” 
“It’s a small place, I don’t have a relationship with my parents anymore” Haechan grabbed the keys to close the shop. “It’s not too far from here, only a five-minute walk” 
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Entering Haechan's apartment, the reality of his living space matched his earlier description. It kind of reminded you of a college dorm. Only a small living area with his bed and a tiny hallway that leads to his bathroom. 
As you took in the surroundings, Haechan couldn't help but laugh at your reaction. "I told you it was small," he remarked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "It's not the fanciest part of town, but it's affordable."
"It's nice!" you assured him, a genuine smile gracing your face.
Haechan, skeptical, teased, "You don't have to lie to me."
Your laughter filled the room. "I'm not lying! I was expecting much worse for a guy living alone." Your lighthearted comment elicited a chuckle from Haechan, getting rid of any lingering tension.
Looking around the compact space, you ask, "So, what do you want to do?"
"I was promised a kiss," Haechan said with a mischievous smirk.
Your laughter continued, but before you could respond, you felt his hand gently cup your face, pulling you into a kiss. This wasn't like the previous one in the cafeteria; it was more intense, and filled with passion.
As the kiss deepened, Haechan guided you backward until the back of your knees met his bed, causing you to gently fall onto it. Yet, he didn't break the kiss, instead, he adjusted his position to hover over you. Placing his knee between your legs, he elicited a soft moan from you. The sound only fueled Haechan's desire, and he broke the kiss momentarily, his gaze locking onto yours.
"You sound so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes fulled with desire. His fingers delicately traced the curve of your jawline, leaving a trail of electrifying sensations.
The air was charged with a blend of desire and anticipation as Haechan, deepening the kiss and found a comfortable position on top of you.
His hands, warm and assertive, traced subtle patterns along your sides, sending shivers down your spine. The small apartment seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you entangled in the intoxicating rhythm of the kiss.
As the kiss continued to deepen, Haechan's movements became more deliberate. He pressed himself against you, and the warmth of his body radiated through the layers of clothing, intensifying the sensations.
The noisy world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the echo of shared breaths and the subtle noise of hearts beating together.
Breaking away from the kiss, Haechan's eyes held an unspoken question, seeking affirmation in the depths of your gaze. Without uttering a word, you nodded, granting permission.
Haechan's lips traced a path from your mouth, leaving a trail of lingering kisses along your jawline and down your neck. Each touch sent shivers through your body, awakening a heightened awareness of the closeness between you.
As Haechan's fingers delicately traced patterns on your skin, he whispered “God I can’t get enough of you”. 
“I need you inside of me right now” You moaned as he started to take your shirt off.
Your words seemed to ignite something in Haechan, his eyes darkening with desire. He gently removed your shirt, his touch making your skin tingle.
You felt Haechan’s warm breath against your skin as he buried his face in your breasts. The sensation of his lips approaching your skin caused you to gasp, and the sound fueled his desire. As his lips made contact with your nipple, you felt a wave of pleasure run through you.
“God, Haechan”
His lips found yours once again. The pleasure of his lips on yours left you intoxicated.The feeling of the soft sheets against your bare skin and the warmth of Haechan’s body made you feel safe, yet vulnerable. Your heart skipped a beat as you felt his lips take your nipple in his mouth yet again, and the pleasure and excitement was overwhelming. The intensity of the sensations had left you without words, and you felt yourself wanting to scream with pleasure.
“G-God”
The moan that escaped from your lips seemed to ignite something in Haechan, and he moved his mouth to your other breast, leaving a trail of hot kisses. Each one caused you to gasp with pleasure and your hands explored the his back from under his shirt. The pleasure and excitement was too much, and you needed him inside you, but he kept teasing you in different ways.
When he finally moved to kiss you again, his hands gently moved down your body to rest on your waist. He seemed to be asking if it was okay to continue, and you nodded, silent. His hands moved to take off your pants, and you felt your heart start to race. 
His touch was gentle and soft, and his lips were warm against your skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. You could feel the bulge in his pants pressing against you. The feeling of his skin against yours was intoxicating. As his hands kept tracing patterns across your skin. As his lips reached your thighs, you moaned with pleasure, begging for more
"Please..." you moaned, "I need you inside me."
Haechan looked up and gave you a mischievous grin, and his body tensed for a moment before he moved to undress himself. His movements left you breathless, and you stared at him as he removed his pants. The light of the room glinted off of his skin, and you felt your body start to quiver with anticipation.
His eyes seemed to penetrate you as he looked at you, as if he could see things you didn't want anyone to know about. There was a moment of silence as the two of you stared at each other, before he moved over you and hovered on top of you. The moment was perfect, the way his body molded to yours.
His lips found yours once again, and the kiss started off soft but eventually deepened. The intensity of the moment was something you had never experienced before, and your body felt on fire as his hands explored your skin. As his fingers traced patterns on your skin, you felt more and more aroused, and you moaned with pleasure as his fingers moved down across your sensitive skin to your underwear.
As you felt his fingers graze across your most sensitive parts, you gasped with pleasure, and Haechan smiled
“you’re hands please, i just need something inside of me” you begged.
Haechan smirked as he continued to tease you over your underwear. “then we have to get rid of these”
He slowly removed them before stuffing them into his nightstand.
You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as Haechan's fingers continued to tease you over your underwear. Your body throbbed with need, and you couldn't help but beg for more. The anticipation was driving you wild, and you craved the touch of his hands inside of you.
"Please, Haechan," you whimpered, your voice laced with desperation. "I need you inside me."
Haechan's smirk widened, his eyes darkening with desire. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, reveling in every moment of your vulnerability. Without a word, he slowly removed your underwear and discarded it into the nightstand.
The cool air caressed your exposed flesh, making you shudder in anticipation. Haechan positioned himself between your thighs, his gaze intense and hungry. You could feel the heat radiating off his body as he hovered over you, his breath mingling with yours.
His lips crashed onto yours once again, this time with an even fiercer hunger. The kiss was bruising, and passionate, as if he wanted to consume every ounce of your being. His hands roamed your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Every touch sent electric shocks through you, heightening your desire.
But Haechan was not one to rush. He knew the power of anticipation. His fingers danced along the curves of your thighs. You squirmed beneath his touch, unable to suppress the moans that escaped your lips.
"Patience," he murmured against your skin, his voice laced with a raw sensuality that made your heart race. "I want to savor every moment."
His words only fueled the fire within you, igniting a primal need that consumed your thoughts. You could no longer wait, your body aching and yearning for release. With desperate boldness, you reached for him and pulled him closer. Haechan's eyes gleamed with a mixture of surprise and desire as you guided his hand to where you needed him most.
Without hesitation, his fingers slipped between your slick folds, finding your throbbing core. His touch was electrifying, sending waves of ecstasy through your body. You arched your back, giving him better access as he explored every inch of you, driving you to the edge.
As his fingers moved in delicious circles, your moans filled the room, mingling with the sound of his breathless whispers in your ear. It was as if time had stopped, leaving only the two of you.
Haechan's lips found yours once again, muffling the cry that escaped from deep within you as he brushed against your most sensitive spot. Your body shook with pleasure.
Every stroke sent shockwaves coursing through your body, building the pleasure to an unbearable peak. Your hips instinctively rose to meet his ministrations, wanting to feel even closer to him. The room seemed to spin as you felt your orgasm start to wash over you.
Haechan's fingers quickened their pace, pushing you further. With a sudden burst of overwhelming pleasure, your climax finally crashed over you. Your body shuddered beneath Haechan's touch as waves of intense bliss radiated from your core. It was an explosion of ecstasy that left.
As you finally started to get all your senses back you quickly reached out to Haechan. "Let me make you feel good too"
Haechan's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he chuckled nervously, avoiding your gaze. "I-I get pleasure just from giving you pleasure," he stuttered.
The corners of your lips turned up in a sly smile as you teasingly asked, "Did you cum in your pants?"
In response, Haechan groaned and buried his face on your neck. "You just sounded so beautiful, I couldn't resist," he admitted shamefully.
You couldn't help but feel a mix of desire and amusement at his confession. Pulling away from him, you leaned into captured his lips with yours. "That's incredibly hot," you muttered against his mouth before breaking into a giggle.
"Alright," you said with a mischievous glint in your eye, "let's get cleaned up...and maybe we can find a way to get out of those pants too."
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In the morning, you felt the warmth of hands around your body. With a content smile, you turned around to find Haechan already awake, looking at you. "Good morning, beautiful."
"How long have you been awake?" you inquired.
"Not too long, I didn't want to wake you up" he replied.
Leaning in to plant a morning kiss on Haechan's lips, you were halted midway. "I messed up," he confessed.
Shocked, you asked, "What do you mean?"
"I slept with my only friend," he admitted.
A chuckle escaped you. "Well, if you play your cards right, you might end up with a girlfriend instead."
He chuckled at your response, pulling you in for another kiss
As the soft morning light streamed through the curtains, the intimacy between you and Haechan deepened. The laughter from the lighthearted exchange lingered as he pressed his lips against yours.
Breaking the kiss, Haechan looked into your eyes with a mix of affection and sincerity. "I'm serious, though. I don't want this to change things between us."
You traced your fingers gently along his cheek, reassuringly. "Haechan, it doesn't change anything. We both have our pasts, and what matters is what we have now."
A grateful smile played on his lips as he held you close, appreciating the comfort of the moment. "You're amazing, you know that?"
The tenderness in his words made your heart flutter. "You're not too bad yourself," you teased, your fingers intertwining with his.
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Your mother has noticed a change in your demeanor, catching glimpses of smiles and laughter while you were on your phone. Initially, you tried to dismiss it, claiming it was just conversations with friends, but the façade crumbled when your mother overheard you on a Facetime call, and she didn't recognize the voice. Peeking into your room she also didn’t notice the face on the screen.
Now, you found yourself anxiously anticipating how your parents would react to meeting Haechan for the first time. Your mother insisted on the introduction, pointing out that you had never appeared as happy with your previous partners. Which you had to give it to her, it was true. 
While you were confident your mother would adore Haechan, your concern was with your father. He was often distant, engrossed in his role as the owner of a major technology company. His strict views on your relationships were rooted in a desire to maintain a family business, yet he doubted your ability to contribute to it.
Hoping your father would be too occupied to attend dinner wasn't far-fetched, he frequently skipped family gatherings. However, your mother's pleas for him to take a rare evening off for his "precious" daughter won him over.
When you first brought it up with Haechan he was terrified. Always saying he was too busy to meet them.
But you finally caught him. He was complaining that he hasn't seen you in some time and that he misses you. So you asked if he was free later. Implying something sexual so he would change his plans if he needed to. When he took the bait and said he would be free all weekend, you told him to get ready to meet your parents. 
As the doorbell rang, you rushed to answer it before anyone else could. "You look so handsome," you cooed, admiring Haechan in a suit that, while not perfectly fitted, he still made it look good.
Haechan, in turn, was taken aback by your appearance. Clad in a baby pink puffy spring dress with pearl accessories, you radiated elegance. The elaborate outfit was your response to your father's decision to turn a family dinner into a business-oriented event.
Warned in advance, Haechan contemplated rescheduling, but your disappointment look and tears swayed him. 
"I can't do this," he admitted.
"Yes, you can. It's okay," you reassured him, leading him toward the dining room.
As the evening unfolded, Haechan appeared more nervous than usual. Sensing his discomfort, you offered solace by whispering in his ear, "We can go to my room after we finish dinner." This seemed to ease his tension, evident in the subtle relaxation of his shoulders.
Upon entering the dining room, you wore a big smile, catching your mother's approving gaze. "Ah, this must be Haechan! I've heard great things about you," she greeted warmly.
"I've heard a lot about you too, Ms. [Last Name]," Haechan replied.
The initial interactions went smoothly. Haechan answered a few questions from your mother, and the room dissolved into various conversations. However, your father remained engrossed in discussions with his employees, seemingly oblivious to Haechan's presence.
Sensing Haechan's ongoing nervousness, you discreetly held his hand under the table. "You're doing amazing, we can sneak out soon."
As if on cue, your father redirected his attention to Haechan, acknowledging his presence. "How rude of me! I haven't even spoken to my daughter's new boyfriend," he announced. "So, what is it your parents do for a living?"
Haechan hesitated before revealing, "Well, they don't do much anymore. I work at a convenience store to pay for my apartment."
Your father raised an eyebrow. "Already working for yourself, impressive. Do you do anything else in your free time?"
Releasing the breath of air you were holding in, you smile. This was a small victory, your father rarely asked the guys you brought over questions. Not even caring for your friends. Remembering the time Jeno once threw up in your bathroom from how your father kept ignoring him. 
"My father taught me how to code when I was younger," Haechan disclosed.
"That's impressive," your father acknowledged, swirling his wine before taking a sip. "What's your surname? You look familiar."
Haechan gulped before confessing, "Lee."
A collective widening of eyes among your father's employees followed, and your father smirked. "I knew you looked familiar, Lee Donghyuck."
Confusion furrowed your eyebrows. You expected Haechan to correct your father, but instead, he flinched and looked at you.
"I'm guessing you lied to my daughter?" your father quipped. "What was the name you came up with again? Haechan."
Tears welled up in your eyes, and to salvage any remaining dignity, you stood up and hurriedly left the room.
Your mother exchanged a glance with Haechan before whispering something to him. He excused himself from the table and followed you.
You slammed the door shut, intending to cry alone. However, Haechan entered the room moments later.
"Please let me explain first," Haechan begged, attempting to pull you in an embrace, but you resisted.
"What is there to explain? Have you been lying to me this whole time?"
"No, God, no! Yes, my name is Donghyuck.. Haechan is just a nickname," he clarified. "My dad worked at your father's company, coding for years until he was fired. They wanted someone younger."
He gently held your face in his hands, "At first, I hated you. But when I saw you tearing up and running to the  janitor's closet, it made my heart hurt, so I had to follow you."
"I told you my name was Haechan because that's what I go by in school. I wouldn't have gotten the scholarship if they knew who I was related to. Your father basically runs this town! I had to!"
"I swear I was going to tell you, but then I started developing feelings for you. I couldn't risk it! This is the best thing to ever happen to me, you're the best thing to ever happen to me!"
As you stood there, emotions swirling within you, you listened to Haechan's explanation. His vulnerability and genuine regret were evident in every word.
A mixture of anger, confusion, and empathy danced on the surface of your emotions. "Haechan, why didn't you trust me enough to tell me the truth?" you asked, your voice a blend of hurt and frustration.
his eyes pleading for understanding. "I wanted to, but the fear of losing you, or jeopardizing everything we had, it paralyzed me. I never meant to lie to you. I just didn't know how to tell you."
You took a deep breath, attempting to collect your thoughts. The truth was a bitter pill to swallow, but his honesty and the vulnerability in his eyes struck a chord. "You should have trusted me, Haechan. Relationships are built on trust, not on secrets and lies."
He nodded, remorse written across his features. "I know, and I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, and I understand if you can't forgive me."
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of everything hanging in the air. You finally spoke, "I need time to process this. It's not just about the lie but the fact that you felt you had to hide something from me. Trust is something we'll need to work on."
Haechan nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of regret and determination. "I'll do whatever it takes to make things right, even if it takes time.”
“I love you, and I'll always be honest with you from now on," he promised, enfolding you in a tight embrace.
Your body resisted at first, still in shock of everything that just happened, but you eventually gave in, wrapping your arms around him. The familiar scent of his cologne and the warmth of his embrace made you realize how much you loved him despite the lies. 
You looked him in his eyes, studying his face before slowly letting your body finally connect your lips to his. 
Haechan’s kiss was soft and gentle at first, but it quickly grew in intensity as the passion between the two of you grew. You felt his hands on your waist as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.
Despite the initial shock and hurt, you found yourself unable to resist Haechan’s touch, his lips, the way he made you feel. You knew trust would take time to build, but right now, you couldn't resist the heat between the two of you.
Haechan’s hands moved up to your hair, tangling in the strands as he deepened the kiss even further. “Donghyuck” You moaned softly, unable to control the pleasure that coursed through you.
“I love the way you moan my name” he growled
As the kiss came to an end, you were both left breathless, panting from the intensity of the moment. You looked up into Donghyuck’s eyes, seeing the love and desire there, and you couldn't help but smile. “I love you so much” he whispered
"I love you too,"
Your eyes met his and your lips curved into a smile. "Thank you."
"For what?" he asked
"For loving me enough to tell me the truth," you responded.
“I will never hurt you again”
You stared silently, soaking in his presence, and a moment later, a small smile stretched across your lips. Donghyuck pulled you in for another heated kiss causing you to let out a small moan before pulling away slightly. 
“You promise?” voice still shaky from the kiss.
Donghyuck grinned, his hands moved to your waist. There was a brief moment of discomfort as he lifted you onto your bed, but your objection was quickly silenced once you regained your balance.
You couldn't help but giggle at the boyish grin on Donghyck’s face as he looked at you from between your legs.
“I promise” he spoke as his hands traced the edges of your panties underneath your dress, teasing you and leaving you desperate for more.
A mischievous grin spread across Donghyuck’s face as he slowly began to slide your panties down, revealing more and more of your skin. You bit your lip, enjoying the sensation as he removed the final bit of fabric.
Donghyuck’s hands quickly moved to hook your legs around his waist, and you felt his fingers move towards your wet core. He teased you for a few minutes before moving his fingers up your slit, one finger brushing against your clit.
You moaned softly, biting your lip as you tried to keep yourself from making too much noise. You couldn’t help yourself though, the sensation overwhelming you as he began to circle your clit.
The sensation was so intense you couldn’t help but squirm beneath Donghyuck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses up your clothed stomach. His fingers slowed and he looked up at you. “Shh…” he whispered, lowering his head to your chest, kissing your exposed skin as you tried to regain control of yourself.
For a few moments you could barely breathe, light kisses upon your skin driving you wild. You could feel his cock pressed against your leg, and could tell it was straining against his pants. 
“You are so gorgeous,” Donghyuck spoke softly as he moved up your body. His lips pressed against yours, his fingers teasing your clit as he moved his hand away.
Your lips were breathing heavily against his, your hips bucked as you felt him tease your clit again. You began to breathe hard, hot breaths gusting between your lips and his. "I love you” he repeated as his lips moved to your neck. He bit your neck, his lips sucking just hard enough to leave a mark.
You moaned softly as you moved your hands to his pants, fumbling with the button before pulling them and his underwear down so he could step out of them.
You felt his cock pressed against your skin, and you couldn’t help but reach out for it. You could feel his shaft pulsating against your hand as you stroked it.
Donghyuck let out a small grunt, his hips bucking into your hand as you teased the head of his cock. “goddamn” he moaned as you pulled him closer.
“I want you inside me. You could feel his shaft twitch in your hand as you said the words, your fingers tightening around the shaft as you moved to stand in front of him.
You pulled your dress over your head, tossing it to the floor as you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra. The garment fell to the ground, your breasts exposed to Donghyuck’s hungry gaze.
Donghyuck reached up, taking your breasts in his hands. He gently laid you back on the bed, his hands moving from your breasts to your hips. 
You waited with heavy breaths as he finished stripping down, your eyes eagerly scanning his chest and abdomen. Reaching for his cock again eager for him to be inside you. 
Donghyuck quickly shifted his hips, slowly sliding his cock inside you. You let out a soft moan as he slowly filled you up. He began thrusting slowly, his thrusts growing stronger and deeper.
He moaned loudly as he thrusts inside you, letting you slowly push against him. His thrusts were desperate.
As he felt his climax coming he reached down to grab your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. The connection between you intensified, your bodies moving in perfect sync. It was a dance of pleasure and desire, each movement bringing you closer to that sweet release.
As his thrusts became more urgent, his hips snapped against yours with a hunger that matched your own. The room filled with your moans and the rhythmic sound of skin slapping together. Time seemed to blur as the world around you vanished.
Your nails dug into his back, leaving red trails as he drove deeper into you. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, dragging you deeper into the abyss of ecstasy.
Donghyuck's breath grew ragged against your ear as he moved faster, chasing his climax with fervor. His grip on your hand tightened, his body trembling with anticipation.
You arched your back as you felt yourself approach climax, your hands gripping the sheets as you sought more friction. Donghyuck’s pace quickened, his cock sliding in and out of you as you felt your orgasm approach.
Your body tensed as you came closer and closer. You cried out, moaning his name as he kissed you. “Donghyuck!”
Donghyuck’s thrusts grew more and more erratic. He began to let out a series of moans as he continued to thrust. He groaned loudly, your walls tightening around his cock as he continued to thrust. You could feel his cock twitch as he came, his cum filling you up.
Donghyuck’s cock slid out of you as the two of you came down from your orgasm. You curled up against him, his arms wrapping around you as you kissed him. 
“I love you too.” you whispered, kissing his lips softly. You rested your head against his chest, and for the first time in a long time, you fell asleep without any worries.
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The morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Donghyuck stirred, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He blinked sleepily and focused on the beautiful sight in front of him--your peaceful face, bathed in gentle morning light.
As he realized your arm was still snugly wrapped around him, a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The night before had been filled with whispers, laughter, and tender kisses shared between you both. And in this quiet moment, as the world outside continued to awaken, Donghyuck felt an overwhelming sense of contentment.
Leaning in closer, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. His touch was feather-light, melting away any lingering traces of sleep from your mind. You stirred slightly, a drowsy smile playing on your lips as you looked up at him.
"Mmm, good morning," you murmured, your voice filled with warmth and affection.
"Good morning," Donghyuck replied, his voice low and husky.
His fingers gently traced the contours of your face, his touch so tender it sent shivers down your spine. As you peered into his eyes, you could see the love that radiated from within him. It was in those moments when the world was still and quiet, that you truly understood the depth of his affections. Donghyuck was not one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but in these stolen moments, he bared his soul to you.
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taglist: @yesohhsehun @numberonekeehostan @rjreins @yutaswh0re @haechansbbg @fullsunahceah @sundamariis @sinsgaybutthatsokay @nae-vm @hcheach @snflwrhaerecs4u @jenodreamer @mystverse @lhcread @onlyoursol-ace @enchantingtreedrea @jaeimjaemin @justforme211 @jakejaehyun @nk-3554 @hyunniesvlog @bbyjayb @nodisdino @qwonii-111 @pwarkkjisung @wettestpoussy @bomi-ja
(srry if i forgot you or if it didnt tag you)
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haespoir · 4 months
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texts w/ gamer bf!hyuck
i love gamer hyuck
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ohmygs-blog · 4 months
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rich boyfriend.
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mrkis · 5 months
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you'll never find anyone like me — one. (l.dh)
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PAIRING: lee donghyuck x afab!reader GENRE: college au, fluff, mature WORD COUNT: 14.9k
SYNOPSIS: you’ll never find anyone like lee donghyuck, and that’s what makes him so exciting.
CHAPTERS WARNINGS: slow burn(ish) type, so much plot & way too much dialogue, alcohol consumption, explicit language, a lot of mentions of donghyuck being obsessed, heavy tension between reader and donghyuck, mentions of parties & drugs, donghyuck comes across as very straight forward and also flirty, pretty people make reader nervous lol (especially donghyuck), tension between two main characters but no smut yet.
AUTHORS NOTE:: its finally here!! i'm so excited to start this series with you all, thank you for your patience!! also, for anyone new, this is linked to my 'NEO TECH COLLEGE' jaemin series 'the way life goes' although this can be read as a standalone.
[SERIES MASTERLIST]
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It wasn’t exactly ideal enrolling into class halfway through the year, knowing you’ll have to go through that godawful stage of trying to make friends with people who already have chosen their own clique to spend the rest of their college years with.
You’re, unfortunately, the new student, the one that’ll be singled out during group projects or the one they pick last for the group because they didn’t want to choose you first… you really don’t know which one is worse.
Looking for a place to settle down was a close second to being one of the worst things to do after enrolling late. You didn’t have enough money to live by yourself and you sure as hell didn’t want to live with someone you hardly even knew, but you had to pick one, so you went with the latter.
Areum was actually the sweetest (and coolest) person you have ever met. 
She welcomed you into her two bedroom apartment with open arms and even helped get you settled into your new room by offering to unpack your boxes and decorate the way you preferred, allowing you to have all the creative freedom you needed to call this place your home too.
Areum had even taken time out of her own busy schedule to show you around, letting you know about all the best food joints, best places to go to get coffee, best album stores to get your preferred music and even the best hangout spots. 
It was, undoubtedly, a lot to take in. 
Areum even introduced you to Minjun, a childhood friend of hers who is a college dropout and now the drummer in a two-man band with his older brother. (They’re pretty good, even though the older brother scares the shit out of you). 
Minjun was the complete opposite of Areum yet they were alike in so many ways, it was easy to make friends with him just as it was with Areum. Minjun was sceptical of you at first though, but he immediately warmed up to you when you complimented his drum set to which he then showed you how to play. (You had no idea, but it was fun).
You cherish the friendships you have made with the two deeply even though you felt like you were intruding at the beginning, especially when you realised how long they have actually known each other and how close they are. But the pair happily invited you into their small friendship with big grins and playful jokes.
You were grateful to be starting something new with people who you felt instantly comfortable with, you were excited to see what your time in college had in store for you. 
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“Shit!” You repeatedly curse under your breath as you hurry across campus grounds with your bag strap sliding down your shoulders and your phone held tightly in your grip, staring down at the time that shined angrily at you due to your lateness.
Being late on your very first day wasn’t exactly something you wanted to experience, but the pressure of getting everything ready and the stress of overthinking lead you to being exhausted and oversleeping—you wanted the ground to swallow you up when you received the mass texts from Areum asking if you made it to your class in time. 
You fix the strap on your shoulder as you rush into the building, eyeing the signs on the walls that would easily lead you to your music class and you groan when you realise it’s at the far end of the building, breaking out into another sprint and you’re grateful there’s no one around to see you make a complete fool of yourself as you run.
Glancing down at your phone, you wince at the time and you look back up to make sure you’re going to right way but you curse under your breath when you realise you’re heading straight towards someone’s back and you don’t even have time to stop yourself or control your speed, already bumping into them at full force which causes them to stumble forwards from the impact.
The person they’re with steadies them and you manage to get a quick glimpse at the girl who’s looking at you in shock before the victim spins around, his eyes angry and ready to curse you out but you don’t even notice how his eyes soften when he looks at you as you’re already profusely apologising to him.
“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going and I—fuck—I didn’t mean to fall into you like that, I’m just late and—”
“It’s fine.” The girl cuts off your rambling, sending you a reassuring smile as the guy continues to stare at you and you nod, mumbling another quick apology as you turn your head and see the door to your assigned class, quickly slipping through the door and letting it close shut behind you, heart racing rapidly in your chest at the full class of students who briefly glance at you before returning to their work.
The Professor looks up from his computer when you enter the room, gazing at you over the rim of his glasses and he gives you a welcoming smile, beckoning you over with his hand and you head straight towards him, getting ready to apologise for being so late but he’s already opening his mouth to speak first.
“I’m surprised you’re starting halfway through the year, but I’m happy to have you in this class. Welcome,” He smiles warmly at you and it instantly makes you feel better, your shoulders relaxing with a breath of relief as you smile back at him thankfully. “I’m Professor Kim Hongjoong. I’ll be your music Professor during your time here and if you need any help with anything, I’d be happy to give you some guidance… although, I have to encourage my students to ask one another. Team bonding type of stuff.”
“Noted.” You laugh lightly with a nod, adjusting the bag strap on your shoulder.
“Great.” Professor Kim grins up at you. 
He dismisses you to a seat at the far back of the class next to a boy whose face is shoved into his computer screen, chunky headphones resting on his head as his fingers dance across a piano keyboard, nodding to the notes that play smoothly in his ears and you pull out the seat to sit beside him, sliding your bag off your shoulder and letting it rest by the legs of the chair.
Capturing your seatmate's attention, he turns to look at you and gives you a warm and welcoming smile, pulling the headphones from his head to rest around his neck. He introduces himself as Xiaojun and he takes the opportunity to point out everyone in the room to let you know their names, and even though it didn’t exactly help and you sure as hell wouldn’t remember everyone's names, you were grateful at least.
“How come you enrolled in the middle of the year?” Xiaojun suddenly asks you and you give him a sheepish grin in response. He raises a questioning brow, “Wasn’t going to enrol or something?”
“Something like that.” 
“Interesting.” Xiaojun hums and he turns his head back to his computer screen while your attention is brought towards the classroom door that swings open, and embarrassment immediately washes over you when you recognise the guy that steps inside, the one you had forcefully slammed into on your way here.
You sink down into your seat in hopes to avoid him to keep your own dignity and your brows pull together in confusion when you see his eyes glance around the room, tilting his head to the side in thought and tongue prodding at his cheek as he scans over the row of seats before he finds you.
His lips curl into a smirk and his eyebrows raise in a way that has your heart thumping rapidly in your chest, immediately drawing your attention away from him when he drops down into a seat beside Yangyang, (a guy that Xiaojun had pointed out to you when filling you in on everyone’s names), who is too busy scrolling through his phone to notice his presence. 
“Donghyuck.”
“What?” You hum, glancing at Xiaojun when you hear him mutter.
“That’s Donghyuck, the one that just came back in/” Xiaojun tells you and you made a small noise of acknowledgment, taking another peek over at him only to avert your eyes away when you realise he’s already looking at you and you feel hot, a little embarrassed and awkward at being caught.
“Has he got a staring problem or something?” You catch yourself mumbling under your breath and your eyes widen when you hear Xiaojun snort, completely capturing what you had just said and you groan, leaning back into your chair with a frown as Xiaojun looks at you with an amused smile.
“Something like that.”
The class surprisingly goes by quicker than you thought and both Professor Kim and Xiaojun were kind enough to fill you in on what you’ve missed so far, and what’s coming up soon. Luckily, as you enrolled in so late, you were excused from the upcoming assignment but were given a side task to write down everything you had knowledge of, including the instruments that you’re skilled in playing.
You found it quite simple and you’re positive you can jot down everything tonight so you wouldn’t have to worry about it later on. You’ve always been eager to please, so there was no way in hell you were going to leave this until the last minute.
You rise from your seat and grab your bag, slipping the strap over your shoulder as you subconsciously peer over at the other end of the room, your heart thumping wildly in your ears when you catch Donghyuck’s eyes already looking back at you while talking to Yangyang, leaning back on the desk with his hands shoved deep into his pockets and leather jacket draped over his arm.
His deep and intense gaze makes you feel nervous and you find yourself fidgeting in your spot, unable to tear your own eyes away from him, locked under his stare and the smirk that he gives you sends goosebumps rippling down your spine.
It’s when he pushes himself off the desk that brings you out of your trance, panic flooding through you when it seems like he’s about to advance towards you but he stays in his place when a hand carefully touches your arm, causing you to quickly turn towards the person that wanted your attention.
Xiaojun’s smiling warmly at you, but you’re surprised when you see that he’s not alone and instead, there are two other guys standing with him.
One wears a green hoodie beneath a grey jacket and matching coloured jeans, a beanie on his head with blue strands of hair peeking from beneath. The round, thin framed glasses on the bridge of his nose makes him look cute, yet the boyish grin he gives you makes you feel a little flustered and you move your attention to the other boy beside him.
He’s a lot more quiet and awkward, opting to give you a tight lipped smile as a greeting and nodding his head to say he’s acknowledged you. You’re not surprised by his shy demeanour𑁋especially with how he’s refusing to make eye contact and how his fingers nervously fiddle with the bracelet dangling on his wrist. 
“This is Mark,” Xiaojun points to the one in the hoodie. “And this is Jihoon,” He points to the other before he turns to you and gives you a smile, “These guys are who I spent the majority of my time with, unfortunately”
“You love us, dude,” Mark’s boyish grin returns as he pats Xiaojun’s shoulder who playfully rolls his eyes and Mark looks at you. “You’re welcome to join us for lunch if you want?”
“Oh, thank you,” You smile appreciatively but it slowly drops when you realise what you had planned already. “Can I join you some other time? I have somewhere to be today.”
“Of course you can.” Mark’s grin widens as his hand removes off Xiaojun’s shoulder to gently knock yours and you grow nervous under the small contact, a shy smile spreading across your lips as you bid them a silent goodbye, brushing past the trio to get to the door and your mouth goes dry, your nerves amping up to a hundred as you once again meet Donghyuck’s eyes from his position next to Yangyang, how he watches you with a hint of intrigue and interest swimming in his irises. 
You miss the way his eyes snap towards your new friends with a locked jaw, tongue prodding at his cheek as you leave the room.
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Watching Areum work has always been fascinating to you: in awe of the talent that pours out of her hands and the patience she has when it comes to sculpting certain objects and/or people for projects or just to pass the time, how every piece is precise and perfect𑁋a complete masterpiece.
It’s the look of determination and joy that seals the deal for you, how happy and content she seems to be whenever she’s in her zone, and having the opportunity to witness her working in the studio at college for the first time is definitely the highlight of your already long and interesting day.
You bite into your lunch as you watch her from behind get her hands dirty while sculpting her recent project, soothing out the curves of a woman’s body that she has been putting together while humming a tune that plays quietly from the radio on the windowsill beside her.
Areum takes a step back to admire her work, a sound of approval slipping past her lips before she decides to take a break, unzipping her black overalls halfway to take her arms out of the sleeves and tying them around her waist securely so the rest doesn’t fall down completely, allowing her tattooed arms to be freed and on show with her white shirt. 
“Did you make it to your class in time this morning?” Areum asks you as she leans against the open window, pulling her strawberry vape out of her pocket to take a drag and you shake your head, causing her to chuckle lowly. “I thought Minjun put an alarm on your phone before he left last night?”
“I slept through it,” You say bitterly, taking another bite of your lunch as she clicks her tongue against her teeth. “Thinking about today got me stressed and I overslept. Ended up almost being an hour late and not only that, I practically body slammed someone because I rushed to get to class. It was embarrassing.”
“Ouch,” Areum teases while scrunching her nose up, taking another hit out of her vape and blowing the smoke out of the window. You roll your eyes, twisting the cap on your bottle of water to take a sip. “Made any friends in your class though?”
You side eye her, “You sound like my mother,” She smirks at you. “Got to know this guy called Xiaojun. He introduced me to his friends Mark and Jihoon just before class ended. I only know those three so far.”
“Good,” Areum hums with an approving nod. “I know Mark and Xiaojun, I’ve bumped into them a few times… don’t know Jihoon though.”
“He’s kinda quiet,” You admit, remembering your very brief encounter with him. You smile, “He didn’t say anything but he seemed welcoming at least. They offered me to join them for lunch but I said I already had plans today.”
“You ditched them to hang out with me?” Areum looks at you with a blank expression and you nod, giving her an innocent grin as you finish off the last bite. “I don’t know whether to thank you or call you stupid.”
You swallow thickly, “I know you better than them so being with you right now is the safest and comforting option to me. I’d like to get to know them more eventually and hang out with them… but it’s kind of hard to do that when I get shy and awkward around people I don’t know.”
“You did well with me and Minjun,” She praises you and you feel your cheeks grow hot at that, trying to fight the smile that threatens to slip onto your lips. “But don’t worry, you got this. Take your time, there’s no rush.”
“I’m not going to rush,” You tell her, resting your chin on your hand as you look over at her, your other hand tapping a mindless tune on the wooden table. “I’m taking everything slowly.” 
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It took you just over a month to get comfortable in your new college. 
You managed to remember everyone's names in your course and despite not talking to some of them, they had become easier to remember overtime. 
Xiaojun, Mark and Jihoon never left your side during classes and just like Areum and Minjun, they also welcomed you into their group with open arms and jokes that had you laughing until your stomach cramped up and tears pooled in your eyes. 
Jihoon became a lot more open with you as you did him. He was just like you—shy and awkward around people he barely knew or wasn’t comfortable with yet, didn’t want to speak up or take control of the conversation in fear of saying something silly, but when getting comfortable with the people it was non stop talking and cracking jokes, even pitching a few sarcastic comments here and there to make others smile.
Xiaojun and Mark were similar—outgoing and confident, striking up conversations and making friends as if it was the easiest thing to do, making others feel invited and welcomed although there was a few moments where you see their shy tendencies come through the cracks, noticing how shy Xiaojun got when being compliment on his voice when singing a song to himself under his breath and when Mark gets shy when he receives unwanted attention from others that compliment his work or his looks. 
Aisha, a girl in your class, was one of the people that would compliment Mark over and over again, making him flustered and cheeks grow red with each word and giggle that slips from her lips. She’s gorgeous, so it doesn’t surprise you that Mark gets shy easily when she comes near.
Aisha is one of the people you haven’t properly spoken to yet. Her sociable and popular presence leaves you a little intimidated. You’ve shared a few friendly smiles and some small words in passing, but you haven’t had the courage to speak to her fully. 
You, admittedly, like to admire her from afar. Seeing how confident and friendly she is, how she teasingly flirts and prettily smiles at others who conversate with her, how her delicate hands play with her healthy hair that cascades down her back, how her siren-like voices lures people in when she’s talking or even singing.
It makes you jealous, but not in a bad way. You could only wish you had the same confidence and likeness. 
Donghyuck is another person you haven’t spoken to yet. You feel nervous being in his presence, how his intense gaze leaves you speechless and unable to think properly. How his lingering touches on your skin leaves goosebumps running down your spine every time he brushes past you to either get to his seat or if he was just walking by in the hallways. 
He glances over his shoulder each time, lips curling into a grin, dark eyes piercing through you as he meets your eyes and takes in your appearance, tongue sweeping across his bottom lip before it tucks between his teeth as he takes in your outfit of the day. 
Even if you’re wearing something that completely covers you, he makes you feel bare. 
Xiaojun is the one that tells you to stray far away from Donghyuck, that he’s nothing but a ‘slut who loves attention and flirts with any living thing’. Mark did however clap back and told Xiaojun that he himself loves the attention too, which caused Xiaojun to jut out his bottom lip in a pout and turn away, but Mark mentioned how Donghyuck can be a little crazy sometimes and to try and not let his continuous stares and actions get under your skin. 
You agreed, saying that wouldn’t be the case, even though you’re lying through your teeth already.
He is getting under your skin, leaving his mark on you and truthfully, it’s interesting. 
You will never admit that out loud. 
“Why are you being so quiet?” You hear somebody ask you suddenly and you rip yourself out of your thoughts, blinking at you try to see where the source of the sound came from but you let out a huff as a weight is knocked against your shoulder, hissing as you turn your head to see Minjun who had dropped down to the sofa to sit beside you.
He’s grinning at you in greeting but mumbles a quick apology when he realises he’s hurt you, rubbing the sore area before pulling his hand back to pull his phone out of his pockets.
You stay silent for a moment, staring at him as he mindlessly drums his fingers against the side of his phone as he reads a text and you immediately recognise it as the new song that he and his brother have been working on, the corner of your lips stretching into a smile.
However, his drumming comes to a sudden stop when Byeol pounces up on the arm of the sofa on his left, staring at Minjun with his tail slowly swishing behind him before he steps down onto Minjun’s thighs to find the perfect spot to rest and Minjun clicks his tongue against his teeth in annoyance. 
“I hate this cat.” He grumbles under his breath despite raising his hand to pet Byeol behind his ears, loud purring noises rumbling from his chest. Minjun glances at you, “You didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?” You mutter as you reach over to pet Byeol too.
“About why you’re being so quiet.”
“There’s no reason,” You tell him truthfully, smiling as Byeol nuzzles his head into your palm. “I was enjoying the silence and just thinking about some things.”
“What things?”
Your eyes snap to him, teasing in your tone, “None of your business.”
“Ouch. You wound me,” He speaks monotone, pulling his hand away from Byeol to adjust the beanie on top of his head. “I have a show this weekend at Cherry Bomb, you’re coming right?”
“Obviously,” You hum. “Me and Areum never miss your shows.”
“Lucky charms,” Minjun grins, raising his hand with his pinky outstretched and you snort, wrapping your own pinky around his and squeezing tightly. “EJ and his girlfriend are coming too so we’re going to grab a few beers with them after it, yeah?”
“Sounds good to me,” You nod, retracting your hand from his to pet the cat who’s now climbing into your own lap, rubbing his face in the cotton of your shirt. You purse your lips in thought, “Can I invite people?”
Minjun raises his brow in interest, “Who?”
“Just these guys I’ve made friends with—they’re on my music course,” You briefly explain but you feel the need to go further as Minjun continues to stare at you. “They saw my Instagram post at your show a few weekends back and they asked about you, and they said they’d be interested in seeing you play and—”
“They can come,” He cuts off your rambling, grinning up at you and your brows pull together when he nudges your shoulder. “You don’t have to ask, you know. The more the merrier, right? Besides, Seungwoo will be happy to see some new faces listening to our music.”
“Is he giving you a hard time?”
“Just the usual,” Minjun shrugs. “Worried about the number of people showing up to watch, the amount of unfinished songs he’s written, stuff with our parents too… they’re not exactly supportive of me dropping out of college and him leaving work to pursue music. They say it’s a waste of time.”
“But you’re good at what you do,” You tell him truthfully with a kind smile. “Both of you. You’re booking out bars and performing in front of big crowds almost every weekend, I say that’s pretty impressive.”
The corner of Minjun's lips lift upwards, his head tilting to the side slightly as he looks at you, “You think so?”
You nudge his shoulder, “I know so.”
Minjun breaks out into a full smile this time and he nudges you back as a small gesture of a thank you before he shifts in his seat, getting comfortable leaning against the cushions as he resumes scrolling through his phone.
You relax into him, peering your head over his shoulder to watch the screen as he shows you his current Instagram home page filled with musicians, concert photos and the occasional selfie of those he follows. You hardly recognise any of them, apart from the few Areum had posted and EJ with his girlfriend, but you still wiggle your eyebrows suggestively and make flirty comments when you see the sexy mirror pictures posted by some. 
Minjun just rolls his eyes and tells you to be quiet, huffing as he angles himself away from you.
“Oh, I didn’t realise you were here,” You hear Areum’s teasing voice from behind and you crane your neck to see her make her way over to the both of you, a fluffy white towel wrapped tight around her body and another wrapped around her hair from her previous shower. 
She sits in the single loveseat opposite, crossing her legs beneath herself to get comfy and a smile slips upon her lips as Byeol meows loudly, jumping down from your own lap and to find comfort on hers, nuzzling himself in her towel and Areum holds him to her chest, stroking his fur and cooing softly.
“I’m always here.” Minjun gives her a grin.
“Unfortunately~” Areum hums, pressing gentle kisses on the top of Byeol’s head and Minjun rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he shakes his head.
Areum grins, already feeling proud at already getting under her best friend's skin but you knew deep down that it was just a little joke, knowing first hand how they always bite at each other to try and get one of them to react and lose, adding another point to their mental tally chart.
She coos as she talks to Byeol, scratching below his chin and rubbing behind his ears as you smile at the sight, hearing his loud purrs resonate from where he’s sitting on her lap and Areum’s phone that’s been gripped in her hand vibrates loudly, causing her to pull away from Byeol for a moment to check her screen.
You watch as her brows raise slightly, a smirk spreading across her cheeks and her bottom lip gets caught between her teeth, thumbs quickly tapping against the phone before she raises her head up, looking over at you with an unfamiliar glint in her eye. 
Your face scrunches up, confused. “Why are you looking at me?”
Areum cocks her head to the side, “How do you feel about experiencing your first college party tonight?”
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The sight in front of you is definitely… something.
The house is a lot bigger than you anticipated, expecting to be brought along to a little apartment or even a club for your first official college party, but Areum had thrown you into a complete loop as she brought you to a not so little apartment or club that was already filled with drunk college students, some already even sprawled across the front lawn messily making out or even staring up at the sky giggling to themselves. 
However, you grimace a little when you see someone come stumbling out of the house with their hand clamped over the mouth, barely making it towards a bush before emptying out their stomachs with the most gruesome of sounds. 
A guy comes jogging out of the house shortly after with a water bottle in hand and his phone in the other, your mouth starts to feel a little dry, the attractiveness and confidence that oozes from him as he comes closer stuns you for a moment, the shyness taking over you when he grunts and squats down to tend to the drunken person with their head shoved into the bushes.
The tight black fitted shirt he wears shows off the muscles beneath, how they bulge and tense when he reaches out to caress the person’s back as they retch loudly and your eyes can’t help but shift to his thighs, how the pants are tightening around them which each movement and you gulp, pulling your attention away when you feel Areum slip her arm through yours.
“Seems like you got your hands full already.” Areum speaks first with a teasing tone that’s directed towards the guy and he raises his head, dark eyes glistening under the night sky as he grins at her.
“You got that right,” He chuckles softly, putting the water bottle down on the grass to run his fingers through his dark mullet, gazing at you. “You’re new. I’ve never seen you here before. I’m Jeno.”
You introduce yourself and he repeats your name back to you with a hum and a nod, then he smiles and wishes you a good time at the party before turning back to the person who had seemingly stopped throwing up, ordering them to drink the bottled water and saying how he’s going to call a cab for them to get home safely. 
Minjun, who had been quiet this entire time watching every thing unfold, gently pushes your shoulder to get you to walk and Areum pulls you towards the house by your arm, the loud music blasting inside already hitting your eardrums and you’re instantly hit with the smell of alcohol and weed when you enter. 
The inside is a lot more chaotic than the outside, you conclude. 
Sweaty bodies pressed against each other as they dance or makeout, some even fondling each other to which you immediately avert your attention away when they glance your way. Others are in small groups talking and even playing drinking games, you can just about see a group playing cup pong from where you’re standing at the entrance. 
Minjun leans down to murmur in your ear, “So, what do you think so far?” 
“It’s…” You pause, pulling a face. “Something. Very crowded. There’s people everywhere.”
Minjun’s chest rumbles with a laugh, “And this isn’t even the half of it.”
Your eyes widen at the possible fact of there being more people in the house, already feeling overwhelmed and Areum’s hand slides down your arm to take your own, lacing her fingers through yours as she helps weave you through the crowds, Minjun hot on your tail as he follows behind. 
You glance around while she leads you both to wherever she wants to go and you spot a couple lounging together on the sofa, the pretty blonde smiling at her boyfriend who’s gently tucking her hair behind her ears as he’s mumbling something to her and she nods, causing the boyfriend to grin and clink his drink against hers.
“Here,” Areum’s voice grabs your attention and your turn your head to look at her when you feel her hand slip from yours, noticing that she’s brought you to the kitchen where only a few partygoers are standing, nursing their drinks and chatting with friends. Areum opens the cooler and passes a beer over to Minjun who dips his head in silent thank you before turning to you, “Want a beer? A seltzer?”
“Beer.” You’re thankful she hands you one that you’re familiar with, the ones that the three of you have shared in your apartment during movie and game nights, immediately cracking it open to take a sip and the satisfying burn and flavour that that runs down your throat has you smiling.
It unfortunately doesn’t take long for you to start to feel out of place, your back pressed against a wall in the far corner of the kitchen as you watch Minjun smoke with a guy you overheard is called Sunwoo, a dopey grin smile spreading across his cheeks every time someone had waltzed up to him with money in their hand for one of his baggies that he takes out of his pocket to slip into theirs. 
Areum had politely excused herself from you a few moments prior to greet someone you somewhat recognise as one of her previous hookups, watching as Areum’s hand slips around her waist to hold her close to her body and the girl lets out flirtatious giggles, winding her own arms around Areum’s shoulders as they whisper in each others ears.
You sigh, pursing your lips as you take a glance down at the beer in your hand, shaking the can slightly to feel how much drink was left for you to drink and you frown when you notice it’s empty. You push yourself off of the wall and discard your empty beer in the overflowing trash can, opting to open the cooler and grab another to keep yourself preoccupied but you’re startled when another hand reaches in too, brushing against your own.
“Oh, sorry—” The voice pauses mid sentence and you glance up, your eyes widening in surprise when you see Xiaojun staring back at you with a similar expression. “It’s you!”
“What are you doing here?” You ask with a smile, excitement flowing through your veins as Xiaojun gives you a welcoming side hug, rubbing your back comfortingly. 
“I could ask you the same thing.” Xiaojun pulls back to adjust the backwards cap on his head, not before running his fingers through his hair. You take this moment to take in his appearance, surprised to see him out of his knitted sweaters and chinos which is replaced with a loose fitted grey tank top and dark jeans, showing off his physique which caught you off guard immensely, not expecting to see the muscles.
“My roommate told me to tag along,” You briefly explain to him, pulling your eyes away from his arms and he hums in understanding, handing you a beer before grabbing one for himself. “Are Mark and Jihoon here too?”
“Jihoon’s at home. This isn’t his, uh—” Xiaojun waves his hand around comically. “—type of scene, you know. Mark’s around here somewhere though, lost him when this girl tugged his arm wanting to speak to him in private.”
You make a small noise as you nod your head, assuming that it was another student proclaiming their attraction towards Mark as you have witnessed many times before, feeling bad every time Mark had rejected them even if he was sweet with his words. 
The confidence that people had to confess their feelings to the person they liked always made you jealous, wishing you had the courage to admit your own likeness towards someone but you could never get it out, knowing that the words would constantly get stuck on the tip of your tongue and the fear of rejection wasn’t exactly something you wanted to experience.
So you always held back on telling people how you felt, especially if you liked them. But yet again, seemingly lucky for you, there has never really been anyone that you’ve truly liked. You’ve had small mindless crushes that you knew would lead into nothing and you’ve been in the presence of a few attractive people that definitely make your heart flutter, but it’s never enough to make you want to confess. 
A gentle touch on your arm brings you out of your thoughts and you turn your head to see Minjun standing beside, a gesture to show that he was finally back with you and you couldn’t have been more happier to have more people at your side, giving him a smile to which he returns, the corner of his lips twitching upwards.
“Oh. You’re the guy.” Xiaojun speaks up, eyebrows raised to his hairline in shock as he points at Minjun who looks back at him, seemingly confused but he slowly nods anyways which makes you snort quietly, finding the sight comical. “The drummer from that band, the one on her Instagram—LŒV, right?”
“Yeah,” Minjun hums in surprise before he makes a noise of realisation, piecing two and two together. “You must be one of the guys she told me about, that wanted to come see us play this weekend.”
You zone out of their conversation when Xiaojun praises him for his musical skills, the pair diving deep into the music discussion which usually you would’ve participated in any of time, but you find yourself getting distracted as you watch Areum delicately stroke the back of another girl that she’s talking with, pulling her in closely to whisper in her ear and laughing when the girl pushes her shoulder playfully before tugging her back in. 
Your attention however pulls away from the pair when Areum places two fingers beneath her chin to bring her in for a kiss, feeling awkward to give them an audience and finding interest in a potted plant in the corner of the room, your lips quirking up into an amused smile when you see a drunk cradling it like a newborn, stroking the leaves and cooing.
The sight in front of you is hilarious and you would’ve taken out your phone to take a picture it if wasn’t for the fact you didn’t know this person, not really wanting to be caught and questioned taking pictures of someone you barely knew even if it would make a great memory… and definitely a great birthday card. 
But your eyes flit away from the drunk to the guy that you met outside. Jeno, you remember his name. He strides into the house with a dark wet patch over the front of his clothes and an empty water bottle. 
First, you grimace at the thought of that person he was taking care of outside throwing the water over him in a drunken fit, but then you feel a little warm and flustered when you realise that the water had made his shirt and pants stick to him more than it originally did, outlining his body perfectly, defining the muscles beneath the materials. 
“Why are you ogling Jeno?”
“I’m not,” You immediately defend yourself, attention snapping back to Xiaojun who's already staring back at you with an amused smirk, raising his eyebrow. “I’m not.”
“Pretty sure you are,” Minjun joins in this time and you harden your gaze at him, causing him to grin. “You like him?”
“No.”
“He’s attractive, for sure,” Xiaojun hums, taking a glance at him over your shoulder and watching him as he disappears up the staircase, probably to change out of his wet clothes. “I wouldn’t get too close to him though,”
Now that piques your interest, “Why?”
Xiaojun opens his mouth, ready to tell you what you’re surprisingly desperate to hear until he closes his mouth, brows rising in shock when you feel someone's arms slip around your shoulders to bring your back into their chest.
You immediately recognise it as Areum, the sweet citrus smell of her perfume overwhelming your senses and you turn your head to the side to see her already smiling at you, giving you a comforting squeeze before letting you go to stand beside you to greet Xiaojun.
Xiaojun seems hypnotised by her beauty just like many others are and it doesn’t surprise you, the beauty and the confidence that radiates off of her is enough to have your own heart thumping in your chest and feeling shy whenever she meets your eyes or gives you a pretty smile.
“I’m Areum,” She introduces herself as she reopens the cooler to fetch herself another beer. “Her roomie.”
Xiaojun whispers back in a daze, “Hi roomie.”
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The look on Xiaojun’s face was comical when it slipped into conversation that Areum wasn’t interested in men, his eyes widening and mouth dropping open in shock as he profusely apologised, worried that his dazed look and minor flirtatious comments made her uncomfortable but she shook her head, laughing as she explained everything was fine and that he had no way of knowing her preferences. 
Still, the trio got along quite well and even Mark, who joined in a few minutes prior after complaining about how he was locked in the bathroom for five minutes, got along with Areum and Minjun too. It made you smile, seeing the people you liked getting along with each other and exchanging socials and numbers, it also made you miss Jihoon a little bit, wishing he was here so you could introduce them to your duo of friends. 
However, you did make a mental list to remind yourself to text Jihoon tomorrow morning and tell him you’d add him to the groupchat that Xiaojun was desperate to make.
It doesn’t take long for you all to split from each other too: Areum grabbing your hand to steal you away for a little while and you were surprised that Minjun didn’t follow behind like he usually does, but you were happy to see him so comfortable enough to stick around with Mark and Xiaojun who were happily discussing music techniques and even other bands they both seemed to enjoy.
Areum brought you to the living room this time where the music blasted from the stereo, making it a lot harder to hear what she was saying to you but you managed, opting to lean in close so she could whisper in your ear and you did the same. 
You’re feeling awkward and uncomfortable now though, nursing the third beer in your hand as everyone around you either dances or heavily makes out with the person they’ve come with or even just met, finding it hard to focus your attention on anything as in every corner you look, you see people wrapped up in each other.
A gentle touch is placed on your arm, “Are you okay?”
“Hm?” You hum, looking at Areum who is staring back at you worryingly. “Why?”
“You’ve gone quiet,” She points out and a frown makes its way onto your lips, “Want to go home?”
“What? No. It’s fine,” You quickly shake your head. “I don’t want to ruin your night.”
“You’re not ruining anything,” Areum chuckles softly and when her gaze flicks over your shoulder, you see the surprised look on her face. “Seems like you’ve got an admirer tonight.”
Her words have you making a noise of confusion and she nods in the direction of your so-called ‘admirer’ and you’re embarrassingly quick to whip your head around, not making your movements subtle at all which she snorts at in amusement. 
Your heart thumps loudly in your ears as you spot Donghyuck manspreading on the sofa a few feet in front of you, long dark hair hanging over his eyes and a joint resting between his lips which he inhales deeply, holding the smoke in his lungs for what seems to be an eternity until he exhales, passing the joint over to Yangyang all while staring directly at you. 
You feel hot beneath his intense stare, the dress you're wearing now seeming a little too tight and revealing that you subconsciously wrap your arms around yourself to cover up, not missing the way Donghyuck’s lips curl into a smirk before he brings a bottle up to his mouth, chugging the alcoholic beverage. 
You clear your throat, “That’s Donghyuck.”
“I know.”
Your head snaps towards Areum in surprise, “You know?”
“Yeah, of course,” Areum laughs lightly as she puts down her empty beer can on the windowsill. She presses her lips together as she leans back against the wall with her hands shoved into her low cut jeans. “Everyone here pretty much knows Donghyuck. He’s best friends with Jeno and that group.”
“Jeno…” You repeat the familiar name and you jab your thumb in the direction to where he’s standing, now dressed up in something completely different than last: wearing a white and dark grey ombre dress shirt with the buttons left undone, revealing his toned chest. You couldn’t look at him for too long without feeling flustered. “Him?”
“It’s his house—” She pauses, “Their house. They all live together, all five of them. But the sixth one recently moved out to live with his girlfriend.”
“Oh,” You blink, the curiosity inside of you building. “How do you know so much about this stuff?”
“They’re well-known,” Areum shrugs nonchalantly. “Some might say popular, I guess. Everyone pretty much knows everything about them… For starters, Jeno is the main guy that throws all these parties. He’s kind of a gym freak and he’s secretly really smart, he’s an engineering student. Jeno’s also one of those quote unquote ‘renown fuckboy’. He dated Miwoo for a long while—she’s the black haired one wearing a pretty black dress—but they broke up,
“Jaemin is one of the quiet ones, kind of mysterious in some ways too. You’ll hardly ever see him that much though, but he does appear every now and again to be around Jeno—they’ve been best friends for years. He’s a photography student who used to be in a serious relationship with a girl named Eunbin but they broke up. He did end up having a friends with benefits relationship with one of the girls in the group and then they got together, she’s currently away on a writer's trip,
“Renjun’s also one of the quiet ones, more of an observer. He sits in silence the majority of the time but he’s mean when he wants to be, plus doesn’t exactly take shit from anybody either so he can be kind of intimidating to some people. He’s an art student, some of his work is showcased on the walls in the art department. He’s also dating the pretty blonde that he's sitting with his arm around right now—Haru,
“Shotaro is the friendly and cute one that constantly smiles no matter what type of situation he is in. He’s pretty chilled out, carefree. He’s a dance student too… a really good one. He’s practically the baby of their group—everyone has a soft spot for him. He did however end up getting into a fight with Hyunjin because Yeji—Hyunjin’s ex—kissed him at a party. But even though Hyunjin was the one that threw the first punch, he ended up looking worse than Shotaro thanks to Yangyang who jumped in,
“Yangyang is another renown fuckboy, practically fucks anyone with a pussy between their legs. I’m almost positive he has slept with the majority of the girls in this room. He drinks and smokes weed a lot, and recently he’s been taking some harder stuff until he can’t physically function too. He once had a crush on one of the girls in their group—Jaemin’s now girlfriend—but nobody really knows what happened between them. I’m assuming he kept his feelings to himself considering Jaemin and her are all coupled up now, but anyway. Yangyang’s best friend is Donghyuck, you probably won’t ever see one without the other, they’re like two peas in a pod,
“Donghyuck… he’s interesting, I guess. A jokester, pretty dramatic at times but he can also switch into his serious mode which hardly no-one has ever seen. He parties a lot, definitely can outdrink anybody in this room. Smokes weed too and pops a few pills thanks to Sunwoo. He’s a little emo too which gives him a lot of attention—he’s attractive, he knows it. He sleeps around a lot and with anyone too, he plays both teams. But something kinda flipped in him after a while when he got a little obsessed with Aisha who actually rejected him not so long ago—”
“Isn’t, like, obsessed too much of a harsh word?” You cut her off with a frown, not liking the way she explained him to you. “Maybe he just had a crush on her or something? A big one?”
Areum laughs at that, clearly amused as she shakes her head. “No, sweetheart. When I say obsessed, I mean obsessed. The thing with Donghyuck is that he gets obsessed with people he likes pretty quickly… It’s like he gets infatuated with them, wants to give them his all and more.”
You can’t help but ask, “Is Aisha the only one that he’s been… obsessed with?”
“I doubt it. I heard that Donghyick was once obsessed with Jeno when they first became friends. It’s not that shocking, to be honest. Jeno is an attractive looking guy,” Areum explains to you as she pulls her hand out of her pocket, now holding a strawberry flavoured vape and placing it between her lips to inhale. She blows the smoke out of the corner of her mouth, making sure not to aim towards your face. “Donghyuck’s obsession with people can be pretty intense and sometimes I think Aisha made a lucky escape, although I’m familiar with how much she enjoys attention so she’ll probably want it back once she realises he’s got a new obsession.”
“A new obsession?” Your brows raise in surprise at that and you lean in closer as if what she’s telling you is about to be top secret. “Who is his new obsession?”
The smirk that spreads across Areum’s cheeks makes your body buzz and heart beat rapidly in your chest, growing even more curious but also nervous to know the answer as you watch as she takes another quick inhale of her vape before glancing over your shoulder.
“Well, with the way he’s staring at you over there with that look in his eyes, I think you’re the next target,” Areum’s eyes meet yours. “You’re his new obsession, sweetheart.”
His new what? 
“No I’m not,” A laugh forces its way out of your throat, a nervous one at that. You found it slightly ridiculous, really. There was absolutely no way that you could be his ‘new obsession’. It doesn’t make any sense. “He hardly knows me. We haven’t even spoken a word to each other… I think you’ve got it wrong.”
“Maybe,” She hums, eyes flickering over your shoulder once more. “But with the way he’s walking over here, I think I might be right on this one.”
He is what?
You’re glued in place, unable to turn around and see if she’s telling the truth or teasing you. The look on her face seems serious which makes you feel nervous, but the tone she uses is light which makes you think maybe she is playing tricks, wanting to tease you and see your reactions. 
But it’s the deep call of your name and the warm hand touching your upper arm is what makes you realise that she is, in fact, not lying. 
The nerves and the anxiety kicks in as you turn to face the person who had called out your name, your breath getting caught in the back of your throat as you meet Donghyuck’s dark eyes and that smile you have seen plenty of times before in class—the smile he always gives you when you catch his attention and when you meet his gaze. 
Having been this close to him, Donghyuck, without a doubt, is prettier up close and your tummy flutters at the proximity, almost wanting to take a step back just to put some space between you so you can breathe properly, to conjure up a thought or to even start the conversation as it dawns on you how long you’ve been embarrassingly quiet for.
“Hi,” You greet him, mentally kicking yourself for how silly your voice sounded. You open your mouth to speak again and you immediately regret what comes out, “You’re the guy from my music class.”
One of Donghyuck’s brows lifts in amusement, seemingly surprised but also enjoying how you’re pretending you don’t already know him but he plays along anyways, nodding his head slowly with that smile that makes your hands clammy. “I’m Donghyuck.”
“Donghyuck,” You repeat with a nod. His eyes darken at you saying his name, tongue coming out to sweep over his bottom lip to wet it. “I’m—”
“I know who you are.” He cuts you off and the embarrassment you feel amps up to a hundred, remembering how he called out your name a few moments prior. You’re unsure why you’re acting weird and awkward, maybe it was because he made you feel nervous. 
“I’m going to get us another drink,” Areum tells you, placing her hand on your shoulder to get your attention and you turn to her, eyes widening at the thought of her leaving you. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”
The second Areum slips into the crowd to head towards the kitchen area, Donghyuck takes her place by the wall, leaning against it comfortably as his ringed fingers run through his dark locks, pushing his bangs out of the way and revealing his forehead for a split moment before his hair falls back into place, the tips almost touching his eyes that never seem to leave you. 
He finally asks, “Why did you pretend not to know me?”
“I don’t know,” You immediately reply, unable to stop yourself. “I didn’t mean it. I think I’m just nervous.”
The smile on his face widens before his bottom lip gets caught between his teeth, tilting his head to the side, “I make you nervous?”
“Big parties do,” You partially lie, clearing your throat. “People everywhere, you know… gets overwhelming.”
Donghyuck hums, “Right.”
“I’m serious,” You defend yourself for whatever reason and Donghyuck finds amusement in your voice and actions, eyes sparkling as you seemingly come out of your awkward shell for a few seconds, talking to him in a tone as you would with close friends and he even spots the corner of your lips twitching, almost smiling at him. “Being in a room crowded with people isn’t exactly something I enjoy.”
“I believe you,” He tells you softly. He wants to keep this conversation going, enjoying this side of you that’s slowly becoming comfortable with him already. He likes it, the sparkle in your eyes, the tone of your voice, the subtle peaceful expression on your face. He wants more. “Are you enjoying yourself here?”
That makes you pause. Are you enjoying yourself? You came with Areum and Minjun, two people who you enjoy being in the presence of. You stumbled across Xiaojun and Mark, two other people who bring enjoyment into your life and you were actually ecstatic when seeing Xiaojun for the first time earlier. The beer that was available in the cooler happened to be one of your favourite alcoholic beverages (you’ve had three of those already.) and the music that blasts from the speakers happens to be of a genre you listen to on the regular. 
You finally have your answer, “It’s not so bad.”
“Could it be better?” Donghyuck presses and your lips press together in deep thought before shrugging your shoulders, somewhat agreeing. Donghyuck leans in towards you, “Could I make it better?”
Your brows pull together in confusion, “You can do that? How could you do that?”
Donghyuck can’t help but smile at that and you grow even more confused when he begins to laugh softly, shaking his head. You wonder if you said the wrong thing or if there was a certain meaning behind his question that you failed to pick up on.  
A frown forms on your face due to you feeling a little stupid, thinking that he’s laughing at you or your dumb response and Donghyuck immediately notices you rebuilding the walls, how that look on your face that he adores slowly starts to slip and he straightens up against the wall, toning down his teasing.
“I like your dress, by the way.” His compliment shocks you, not expecting it to come from him and you instantly look down at your dress. 
At first, you wonder what’s wrong with it. If there was a stain you didn’t notice or if there was a tear in the fabric, but then you come to terms with that fact there’s nothing wrong with the dress and, actually, it’s probably one of the best that you own. It doesn’t cling to your body uncomfortably nor does it seem loose, it fits you well. 
You raise your head to thank him, but your words are stuck in the back of your throat when you notice the way he’s looking at you. He’s drinking you in, taking in your appearance, gaze roaming over the length of the dress with a deep inhale before his eyes snap back up to yours, the dark look returning.
“It’s pretty,” Donghyuck exhales, leaning his head back against the wall while keeping eye contact with you. “You’re really pretty.”
You’re flustered now. The attention from him becomes a bit too much and you find yourself feeling hot under his intense stare and there’s an unfamiliar feeling swirling in the pit of your tummy, something you’ve never felt before and it shocks you, but you try to not bring too much attention to it.
You debate on whether to thank him or to compliment him back on his own outfit: a loose graphic white shirt of a band you recognised paired with denim ripped jeans with chains hanging off the sides and a pair of doc martens on his feet. His signature leather jacket, one you’ve seen multiple times before in class, drapes across his shoulders. 
He does look good (really good, but you won’t admit that part.)
As you open your mouth, surprisingly finding the confidence to compliment him on his own outfit choice, it gets taken away from you when Areum announces her return as she comes towards you with drinks in her hand, followed by Minjun, Xiaojun and Mark who decided to tag along. 
You smile when Areum passes you a fresh drink, completely forgetting about the other that had become lukewarm in your hand and you’re unsure on what to do with it until it’s plucked from your grasp and you turn to look at Donghyuck who had taken it from you, clinking the can against your own in a small ‘cheers’ before he pushes himself off of the wall, his shoulder brushing yours as he heads back to where he originally came from.
You’re a little confused on why he left, watching as he drops down on the sofa beside Yangyang who looks like he’s exhausted, slouching against the sofa cushions and nodding to whatever Shotaro—you remembered him from when Areum pointed him out—was talking about and Donghyuck takes the joint from between his fingers, leaning against Yangyang as he takes a drag all while watching you.
It’s almost deja vu, the whole scene reminding you of earlier when he was looking at you from afar before he came on over to introduce himself. You find him odd, extremely odd, but you can’t deny the fact how intriguing he is. 
“So,” Areum’s voice grabs your attention. “How was it?”
“Fine,” You quip, turning to face the four. “He seemed fine. Nothing about that conversation screamed ‘I’m obsessed with you’ so, I think you were wrong with that one.”
Mark almost drops his beer, the alcohol sloshing and spilling over his hands as it almost slips from his fingers as he stares at you in shock, mouth agape, “Dude… you’re the next target?”
You deadpan, “Can you stop calling me a target? It feels like I’m about to get assassinated.” 
Xiaojun frowns, giving you a look of sympathy as he steps in closer to pat your back comfortingly, “You poor thing… my condolences. Stay strong, soldier.”
"Be quiet."
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An hour or two later you find yourself standing outside to get some fresh air alone, staring down at the liquid in your cup. You’re not sure how many you’ve had but you hate how you’re unable to feel the buzz that’s affecting those who are around you, glancing up at the few strays of people that are stumbling across the well-kept grass or are giggling to themselves as they stare up at the star filled sky. 
You wonder at first if the drink you have isn’t actually alcoholic, but from the reactions of your friends (who had been drinking the same brand with you the majority of the night.) they were already tipsy, or in Xiaojun’s case, drunk.
Maybe you just weren’t feeling it.
First college party jitters, Areum had called it when you had confided in her about the problem and you were undoubtedly embarrassed to hear her call it that, but she had reassured you that it was fine and that it was normal, and even she had experienced something similar when she came to her first college party at the beginning of the year. 
Still, it made you feel embarrassed.
With a heavy sigh, you finish the rest of your drink, pulling a face at the burn that trickles down the back of your throat as you turn on your heel to head back inside where your friends are but you crash into something hard, causing you to stumble backwards in shock and a pair of hands come out to grab your elbows, steadying you on your feet.
“Careful, princess.” The person speaks. Any other time, the pet name would’ve made you flustered, especially with that deep tone, but you barely acknowledge it as you try to shake yourself out of your startled state and you wince when you put too much pressure on your ankle, figuring you must’ve twisted it awkwardly when you bumped into the stranger. 
You curse under your breath as you feel the throb but you try not to pay too much attention to it as you finally meet eyes with Donghyuck who is already staring back at you, the grip he has on your elbows tightening slightly as you make eye contact with him. 
“I’m sorry.” You apologise instantly, “I didn’t see you.”
“It’s okay,” Donghyuck dismisses it with a shake of his head and his attention drops down to your ankle, his brows pulling together. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“Oh, yeah, just a bit. But it’s fine, honest—” 
The words get caught at the back of your throat as Donghyuck kneels down onto the grass to inspect the damage, cold fingers delicately touching your leg and trailing down to your ankle, the sudden action causing goosebumps to rise to your skin and you can just make out the corner of his lips twitching.
He traces the area with the pads of his fingertips slowly, suddenly aware of how close he’s leaning in as you feel his breath fan over your calf. His hand takes a hold of your ankle gently and carefully not to hurt you, the delicate strokes of his thumb sending a shiver up your spine and you wonder if he notices how nervous you’ve become.
Donghyuck presses his fingers down on a certain spot on your ankle and you hiss in surprise at the throb that comes with it, your hand instinctively slapping down on his shoulder in retaliation for the pain he caused but your mouth drops open in surprise while he glances up at you with a grin, eyes twinkling with amusement. 
“It’s not broken or anything,” He informs you before you could start to apologise again for your sudden actions, raising back up onto his feet. “You just twisted it awkwardly when you bumped into me.”
“Do you major in nursing alongside music or something?”
Donghyuck smiles at that, a laugh leaving his lips. “No. I’m just good at knowing my way around a body,” You immediately pick up the suggestive tone in his voice and your brows raise in surprise, feeling flustered and shy under his gaze that doesn’t waver from you. “You know, that’s the second time you’ve crashed into me—”
“Accidently.”
“Right,” He hums. “What’s that saying? Once is a mistake, twice is a coincidence—”
“And three times is a pattern,” You finish. “It’s not a coincidence or pattern. Both are mistakes. I don’t go walking around searching for you in hopes to bump into you.”
“Aw, that’s a shame.”
“That I’m not purposely bumping into you?”
“That you’re not searching around for me.”
Your face grows hot at his forwardness and your eyes flick downwards to a patch of grass you suddenly find interest in, the shyness that creeps upon you making it hard for you to look at him.
Donghyuck remains staring at you and the corner of his lips curl into a smirk, amused at how easily you seem to be flustered when it comes to him already. He basks in it, he loves knowing how much he affects you and it excites him even more when he dips his head to meet your eyes but you avert your attention elsewhere. 
He dips his hand into his jean pocket to pull out a singular pack of cigarettes, “Do you want one?”
“I don’t smoke.”
Donghyuck pauses, his fingers ghosting over the opening of the pack. “Do you mind if I smoke?”
You frown and that's when you look up to meet his eyes, confused. “Why wouldn’t I mind?”
“Some people don’t like being around smokers,” Donghyuck shrugs. “The smell and all.”
“I’m at a party where the air reeks of cigarettes, weed and alcohol,” You point out, a smile slowly starting to form on your lips. “I wouldn’t be here if I minded the smell. And besides, I can smell the weed on your clothes from earlier too and I haven’t said a word about it. I’m fine.”
He blinks once, twice, “Do I smell bad?”
“No,” You rush out to reassure him, shaking your head. “No, not at all. You smell fine.”
“Just fine?”
“You smell good.” You correct yourself.
The smirk returns as he tilts his head to the side, “Yeah?”
You come to a conclusion that he definitely enjoys making you embarrassed and flustered, and you let out a breathy laugh, tongue prodding at your cheek in slight annoyance at how easy it is for him to make you feel this way. 
If it was anyone else, you fight back. You always fight back. Being roommates with Areum and close friends with Minjun, Xiaojun, Mark and Jihoon had made you defensive, being a victim to their countless teasing and jokes you had learned over time to return it. 
But unfortunately there is something about Donghyuck that makes your words get caught in the back of your throat and your mind go completely blank, unable to think properly or even say something back.
“Whose is this?” Donghyuck’s already changing the subject, almost giving you whiplash at how easily he can switch to different topics without hesitating or missing a beat. His fingers reach out to touch Minjun’s jacket that’s draped over your shoulders, something that he had given you to keep you warm while you stepped outside. Donghyuck hums, brows pulling together. “You weren’t wearing this earlier.”
“Oh.” Your own fingers graze over the leather jacket. “It’s Minjun’s.”
Donghyuck drily asks, “Who?”
“He’s a friend.”
Donghyuck clicks his tongue against his teeth with a hum, “Yeah, well, your friend's jacket is covering this pretty dress of yours.”
The tone in his voice made your brows raise in surprise, the slight annoyance and disapproval of Minjun’s jacket covering—what he claims—a pretty dress was something you weren’t expecting, although it made your chest blossom with warmth and your face grew hot at the subtle compliment. 
He’s not speaking now, which makes you feel a bit awkward having to stand in silence with him, minus the music that’s blasting from inside the house and a few lingering people out in the garden that are having drunken conversations around you. His lips are pressing together tightly, jaw locking and unlocking as his brows furrow as if he’s thinking deeply about something, fidgeting in his spot with his fingers twitching around his own jacket after he retracted them from Minjun’s. 
You think maybe it’s time for you to leave, to say your goodbyes and find your friends so you can be free of the awkward tension you’re feeling. You want to stay with him though, not exactly eager to disappear away from him so soon just like how he practically walked away from you earlier when the others had come to join the conversation.
“Do you want another drink?” You catch yourself asking him before you could ever register the question in your head and your heart thumps wildly in your chest as Donghyuck slowly turns to look at you, “I mean, I noticed your hands are empty—and I want another drink too, so…”
Donghyuck stares at you for a moment longer before a smile breaks out onto his lips and he nods, agreeing to get another drink from the kitchen with you. But what you didn’t expect was Donghyuck to hold out his hand, wiggling his fingers enticingly in the air to coax you into taking his hand in your own. 
You’re hesitant to take it, not wanting him to feel how clammy your palms already are and you most definitely didn’t want to embarrass yourself for being so nervous during this entire interaction.
“I don’t bite, you know,” He says with a whisper and it sends shivers tingling down your spine at how close he leans in to tell you that. He tilts his head to the side as he smirks, “Unless—”
“DONGHYUCK!” 
The unfamiliar voice that shouts out his name startles you and your head whips around so fast you swear you hear a crack, immediately noticing a pretty, long haired girl stumble out of the backdoor of the house, almost tripping over her own heels before she collects herself, bringing her hand up to her forehead and squinting as she scans the garden for the boy in question. 
You slowly face Donghyuck again and he���s still looking at you, not even paying attention to the calls of his name that echo throughout the garden, not even flinching at the loudness. He’s still holding his hand out to you, waiting for you to take it so you could both go inside but you feel as if maybe it’s the wrong thing to do right now, looking back and forth between him and the girl.
You state, “Someone is calling for you.”
“I know, she’s drunk, ignore her,” Donghyuck dismisses it with a shake of his head and he reaches out further towards you, fingertips brushing over the top of your hand. “Let’s go get that drink, princess. Yeah?”
You don’t even get the chance to decide to accept or decline as the girl approaches you both and immediately throws herself at Donghyuck and punches his arm repeatedly, rambling about something that he had kept hidden from ‘the rest of them’ and she even goes as far as shoving her hand into the front pocket of his jeans.
You blink away awkwardly, unsure of what to do or even to say but you look back at the pair when she pulls out a small bag of weed with a wail of victory.
“I knew you fucking had it,” She hisses, landing another punch on his arm and he rolls his eyes, trying to snatch it out of her grasp but she pulls it away quickly out of his reach, almost bumping into you in the process and her eyes widen in surprise. “Shit, I’m sorry!”
You shake your head, “It’s fi—”
“Miwoo.” Donghyuck speaks her name through gritted teeth and it instantly rings a bell, remembering that she was one of the girls that Areum had told you about earlier, one of Donghyuck’s best friends exes. “Why don’t you take the weed and go share it with Yangyang? Yeah?”
“You’re really pretty,” Miwoo completely ignores Donghyuck to compliment you, eyes checking you out from head to toe with a smile that makes you feel a little flustered but it disappears, replacing with a grimace as she jabs her thumb back at Donghyuck, “Why are you talking to him?”
Donghyuck’s hand comes up to rub the bridge of his nose, seemingly getting frustrated with his friends words and you can’t help but smile at that, finding the situation a little comical and you watch as Donghyuck manages to get her attention, the pair getting warped into a miniature argument that has you trying to bite back your amusement, pressing your lips together tightly to try and not smile even wider.
Although, your watching moment is cut short when you hear Areum call out your name and you turn to look over your shoulder to see her beckoning your forwards and you nod, wanting to politely bid your goodbyes to Donghyuck and Miwoo but you decide against it when you them at each other's throats with petty insults, quickly making your escape to Areum who loops your arms with hers, tugging you back into the house where the others are patiently waiting for you.
Donghyuck notices your disappearance almost immediately and his shoulders drop with a sigh, glaring at Miwoo who isn’t the least affected by his darkened gaze as she dips her fingers inside the baggy to pull out a pre-rolled joint.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I know,” Miwoo grins before she meets Donghyuck’s eye, “She’s really pretty.”
“Yeah, I know,” Donghyuck mumbles under his breath, tongue prodding at his cheek in annoyance as he rips the bag and the joint out of Miwoo’s hands. “Give me that. You don’t deserve it, asshole.”
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The amusement on your face is obvious when Xiaojun and Mark step into the Dreamies Café, both dressed in oversized hoodies and wearing sunglasses to block out the brightness of the sun and the lights from burning their eyes, arms dangling at their sides as they drag their feet across the flooring towards the table where you and Jihoon are sat waiting for them. 
You arrived ten minutes before the two of them did and you were surprised to already see Jihoon sitting at the table with everyone's preferred drinks, and even when you tried to hand over the money for your own, he just looked at you as if you deeply offended him and swatted your hand away before pulling out a chair and telling you to sit.  
Xiaojun doesn’t seep a word as he slumps down in the seat opposite you, but he does gesture a quick thank you to Jihoon for the drink and he lifts the straw to his lips to take a long sip, chest rumbling with a satisfied hum as he relaxes into his seat, the ice clinking in his iced matcha as he continuous to drink.
“Hey,” Mark greets you both as he sits on the seat at the end of the table, fingers curling around the plastic cup of his watermelon ade as he glances over at Jihoon. “Thanks, man. I’ll venmo you the money.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jihoon dismisses with a wave of his hand. “It’s on me anyways. You paid for my drink last time we were here,” His gaze suddenly flicks over to Xiaojun, the corner of his lips twitching. “You look like shit.”
“I feel like shit,” Xiaojun grumbles, craning his head back. “But fuck those cocktails tasted good.”
“You know, you’re probably going to have to give Jeno the money back for raiding his stash.”
“Actually, it belonged to Yangyang,” Xiaojun corrects as he digs his hand through the front of his jean pockets, pulling out his phone and swiping up to get to his notification bar and he angles the screen towards the three of you with a grimace. “He dmed me on Instagram this morning telling me to pay him back but I’m not even going to open it.”
“Dude,” Mark gives him a pointed look. “You can’t do that.”
“But I can,” Xiaojun locks his phone and places it down on the table with a grin. “And I will.”
Jihoon murmurs, “But you drank his stuff without his permission.”
“He uses my laptop in classes without my permission!” Xiaojun argues back immediately, “It’s payback.”
“You shouldn’t have given him your password.”
“I didn’t. I gave it to Donghyuck because he wanted—” Xiaojun suddenly pauses, blinking a few times as he registers his own words before smacking his lips together with a nod, exhaling deeply through his nose. “Yeah. That’s my fault. Should’ve guessed Donghyuck wouldn’t keep his mouth shut about that.”
The mention of Donghyuck has you thinking back on last night and a subtle smile makes its way onto your lips, twisting the straw of your coffee in between your teeth as you go over the interaction in your head.
The smirk he always has, the tone of his voice as he speaks to you, the way he always keeps eye contact and doesn’t even falter once when something else is going on around him. His somewhat flirtatious comments and his lingering touches is what surprises you the most, but you tell yourself that maybe that’s just his personality. 
He’s like that with everyone, he must be.
“What’s got you smiling over there?” A teasing voice breaks you out of your thoughts, startling you as your head shoots up and you see Xiaojun grinning at you across the table, chin resting on the palm of his hand as he waits for you to explain the reason for your smiling but you remain tight lipped, causing his grin to drop. “Don’t be like that.”
“Don’t be nosy.” You fire back jokingly.
A soft call of your name makes you turn your head to Jihoon, “Did you enjoy the party yesterday?”
“It was fine,” You nod your head. “Didn’t get as drunk as everyone else did, but it was fine. College parties can be kind of overwhelming though,” You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly as you admit, “I don’t know why but I didn’t expect that many people to be there…”
“Yeah, Jeno is pretty well-known,” Mark hums as he takes a sip through his straw, leaning back in his seat comfortably. “Don’t get me wrong, like, that entire group are pretty much well-known but it’s mainly Jeno that gets the most attention and rallies everyone up for parties.”
“Areum kind of explained everything to me about them last night,” You say. “They’re an interesting group, I think. They also come across as a little intimidating apart from Shotaro… he was just smiling the entire night.”
“Shotaro’s sweet,” Mark agrees, nodding his head. “Also, once you get to really know them, they aren’t that intimidating—”
“I don’t know about that. Renjun still makes my skin crawl.” Xiaojun interrupts with a shiver.
“Renjun’s just not a people person,” Mark explains with a shrug of his shoulders. “He’s actually really nice if you have a one on one conversation with him,” Mark then turns his attention back on you, “But seriously, none of them are that intimidating once you get to really know them or be around them. Take Yangyang and Donghyuck for example, we don’t find either of them ‘intimidating’ since we share a class with them.”
“They’re just annoying,” Xiaojun chimes in again with a grimace on his face. “Especially Yangyang.”
You can’t help but chuckle at that, “What’s your problem with Yangyang?”
“Yangyang likes to annoy people a lot,” Jihoon is the one to explain to you as Xiaojun rubs at his temples at the mere thought of Yangyang. “He enjoys getting on people's nerves and, fortunately for him, Xiaojun reacts to everything he does so that just makes him do it even more… although, he hasn’t really been doing anything lately. He’s just been kinda numbed out.”
You hum, “Areum also mentioned that he indulges himself into some hard shit, alongside the weed and the alcohol.”
“That’s heartbreak for you, I guess.” Mark mumbles under his breath with a frown, tone sullen and your brows pull together in confusion, wanting to question it a little bit more but you struggle to find the opportunity when another topic is brought up.
“And obviously you know so much about Donghyuck already.”
“No I don’t,” You snip, sending a hard look Xiaojun’s way as he bats his pretty eyelashes at you. You repeat, “No I don’t”
“You were outside in the garden with him for quite some time last night~”
“I’m surprised you even remembered that considering when I walked back into the house, you were on your eighth shot dancing with one of the kitchen chairs.”
“Hey,” Xiaojun points his finger at you, “I may have been drunk but this brain of mine remembers everything.” He then smiles at you, “What did you guys talk about? Did he mention that you’re now his new obsession?”
Jihoon almost spits out his drink, “You’re his new obsession?”
“Why do you all call it that?” You huff with a frown, leaning back in your seat with your arms crossed over your chest. “It sounds mean—and wrong.”
“It’s kinda the truth,” Mark gives you a sorry expression. “Donghyuck does get obsessed with people and I’m almost positive he even knows it himself… He falls for people hard and he becomes so infatuated with them until they say they want nothing to do with him, and he just… stops.”
“He was into Aisha before,” Xiaojun states but you already knew that from Areum’s previous explanation. “He liked her a lot and I’m pretty sure she was into it for a while considering she flirted back and there were even rumours that they hooked up, like, once or twice… but I guess she got bored with that so she made up a lie and told Donghyuck that she was dating Mark—”
“Me. Of all people.” Mark points to himself in disbelief and shakes his head, the expression on his face being enough to get a laugh out of you. 
“I mean, I would believe it,” Jihoon shrugs his shoulders, causing Mark to look at him incredulously. “Come on, you once walked out of a bathroom with her at a Halloween party with your spider-man costume unzipped and your mask gone—”
“I had to fucking piss really bad and I couldn’t get out of the costume because I was drunk so she helped me,” Mark immediately defends himself, a pout forming on his lips. “Besides, it was hot, I wasn’t going to wear the mask all night.” He then fires back up, “I wouldn’t fuck someone in dingy club’s disgusting bathroom, dude!”
Xiaojun blinks, “You lost your virginity in a cheap motel room with your ex-girlfriend.”
Mark bites back, “You lost yours in your grandma's basement, shut up.”
“Okay, wow, uncalled for.”
“Don’t argue…” Jihoon sighs, rubbing his forehead at their raised voices and your brows raise as the pair both turn to look at Jihoon with blank expressions before they speak in sync.
“You lost yours in the college janitor closet and got caught.”“Wait, really?” You gape at Jihoon in shock, not expecting someone like a quiet and socially awkward Jihoon to do something so scandalous on campus grounds. But your shock dies down and morphs into shyness when you realise the trio are now looking at you, expecting you to chime in with your own embarrassing virginity story but the problem was, you had none. Your virginity is still intact.
“Do you not have one?” Mark questions after a few minutes of awkward silence and you shake your head, avoiding his eyes. He questions genuinely again, not a hint of teasing in his tone as he whispers quietly. “Are you a virgin?”
You nod.
“Aww…” Xiaojun coos softly, causing your head to snap towards him as he smiles sweetly at you, “That’s cute.”
Your face immediately burns with embarrassment as you sink further down into your seat, a deep frown settling on your lips, “Don’t ever call my virginity cute again.”
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“Wow… I’m immensely impressed,” Professor Kim mumbles under his breath as he slips the headphones off of his head after listening to a little recording you had made on your computer, his lips curled into satisfied grin as he places the headphones down on the table and you beam happily, glancing between him and your computer screen. “I’m also really impressed that you finished this today. I was expecting you to show me the finished product by at least next week… I’m grateful that you take this class seriously.”
“I enjoy music,” You tell him honestly as you tap your fingers nervously on your desk, “Is there anything I need to change or to work on?”
“There’s nothing you need to work on, it sounds great,” He compliments yet you prepare yourself for the rest, “But for changes? I would like to encourage you to partner up with some of the other students in the class, work together on a piece and let your music styles blend together to see how well it compliments each other, or even try and create something new.”
“So, like a group project?”
“Exactly,” Professor Kim nods. “Like I said, you’re impressive. You’re an amazing guitarist and pianist, your music is incredible when you’re solo. But I would like to hear it within a group too. Yangyang is an incredible bass player that you can maybe add. Xiaojun and Aisha are amazing vocalists, Donghyuck too and he’s also great at the guitar. Jihoon is talented with the keyboard and Mark can do just about everything. Seriously, think about it. I would love to hear how you sound within a group.”
With a kind smile and a gentle pat to your shoulder, Professor Kim excuses himself to go talk to another student, leaving you alone to think about his words.
It’s not that you didn’t want to work in a group. You’re almost positive that working with your friends will be a fun type of chaotic mess that will have your stomach cramping and tears streaming down your cheeks from laughing so much.
It’s just that you didn’t know how to work in a group. You’ve always been independent in some sort of sense, especially with your own creations. You preferred sitting alone with your headphones snug on your head, testing out different sounds and techniques all by yourself, choosing what sounds best and what suits your needs.
But working in a group? Settling on one thing that will make each of you happy? That is foreign territory… that is stressful.
“So, what did he say to you?” Jihoon asks with a gentle nudge at your shoulder to get your attention and you pull your eyes away from your laptop screen to give him a tight lipped smile.
“He liked it. He just wants me to try out group work,” You almost start pleading, “Got any room in your group project for me to fit in?”
“Sure,” Jihoon nods with a kind smile, “Although I feel like I should probably warn you by saying that sometimes it’s not just me, Mark and Xiaojun working together… Donghyuck and Yangyang sometimes come back and forth, especially for Mark.”
Your brows raise in surprise, “They’re in your group too?”
“Not exactly. It’s more like them coming to us when we’re working to borrow Mark for their project,” Jihoon explains to you as he nods over at Mark who’s currently leaning on a desk with Donghyuck and Yangyang at his sides, peering over his shoulder to look at his laptop screen. “Mark pretty much floats in and out of other people's groups. It’s what you get for being an allrounder I guess.”
“Professor Kim mentioned something like that.” You mumble as you watch the trio, the corner of your lips twitching upwards in a slight smile as Mark scoffs at something Donghyuck says, swatting him away with his hand as Donghyuck grins mischievously and murmurs something in his ear, causing Mark to push at his head this time and Donghyuck stumbles back with a laugh.
Yangyang remains silent, idly drumming his fingers on the desk and rubbing tiredly at his sullen eyes beneath his hood. He seems to stop when turning his body towards you, as if looking your way to which makes your back straighten up, especially when Donghyuck’s head whips around at a mumble from Yangyang, looking directly at you. 
From across the room, Donghyuck smiles that crooked grin of his and his eyebrow quirks up when he sees that you’re already staring back at him. You can feel the warmth rising to your cheeks at being caught, and though you try to suppress the shy feeling that creeps in, you know he can already tell exactly how you’re feeling as his eyes twinkle with amusement, tilting his head to the side as if to tease you even more.
Donghyuck’s eyes never leave you as you turn away, trying to busy yourself with something else as your heart thumps wildly in your ears, feeling too overwhelmed to glance back at Donghyuck despite seeing him in your peripheral vision.
“You really have caught his attention,” Jihoon mutters beside you with a chuckle and you whip around to face him, eyes wide. “I thought that maybe Xiaojun and Mark were teasing you… but I guess Donghyuck really has started to take a liking to you. You are his new obsession.”
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chaerryeoniis · 9 months
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safety zone | l.mk
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pairing ❥ mark x reader genre ❥ angst, fluff, suggestive, university! au, best friends to lovers, roommate au word count ❥ 19.1k note ❥ this was inspired by sticker teaser mark. also because he really does keep pushing the parasocial relationship agenda these days. i really hope you guys like this because it took me at least 40+ hours to get it out so it's practically my baby now playlist ❥ west coast love - emotional oranges | saturday nights - khalid | hits different - taylor swift |  shutdown - moonbyul, seori synopsis ❥ Mark Lee. The most perfect roommate and best friend that you could have asked for - except for the fact that he constantly messes up your laundry and can’t cook eggs very well. Even then, that doesn’t quite stop you from falling for him in your final year.
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You suppose meeting Mark Lee was a stroke of fate. Whether good or not, you had yet to find out.
Freshman orientation, and you had just been deposited on the concrete steps of the main university building by your parents, who were quick to drive off after giving you one last hug.
And as you passed through the hallowed halls where you were meant to spend the next five years of your life, thousands of other people your age rushing past you, you were excited. That you were finally on your own, free to do quite literally whatever the fuck you wanted.
The freedom was going to go to your head, and cause you to probably make a few bad decisions, but that was a problem for later.
For now, you had to get registered. If you could even find that tiny blue booth in this gigantic place.
And as you pulled your luggage up the steps, staring at the phone screen with your other hand, you supposed it was partially your fault that you didn’t see the boy walking straight past you, and also your fault that you didn’t hear him muttering an ‘excuse me’ under his breath.
However, it was a little too late to realise that before you were sent flying to the ground, a harsh exhale of air leaving you as you hit the ground with a thump.
And as you winced in pain, you looked up, only to be met with the culprit himself.
“Shit, I’m so sorry. Went too fast.” The boy in front of you is wide-eyed, hands fisting nervously in the material of his washed out jeans, the grey plaid flannel hanging loosely over his shoulders and white-shirt. “You good?”
He extends a hand out to you, and you take it without thinking as he pulls you up. It’s a while before you collect yourself, glancing at him and not quite sure what to say.
“Um,” he scratches the back of his neck, cringing slightly. “Really sorry about that. First day here and I’m already knocking people down. I guess Hyuck was right.”
You have no idea who Hyuck is, and why he’s predicting the future for the awkward, gangly-limbed boy in front of you, but the sight of his expression makes you soften a little. He’s genuinely apologetic about it, and you suppose that beyond your ass being sore for the next two days, there hasn’t been much harm done.
“It’s okay. You’re a freshman too?” You ask, trying to break the ice a little - he seems nice enough, the kind of person who you’d smile at on campus when passing by.
At your question, he laughs a little, eyes lighting up. “Yeah. I was trying to find the registration counter before I crashed right into you.”
“Well, if you help me find it, consider this accident gone from my memory. I’m a little lost too,” you offer, and he nods eagerly. “No problem. It’s down that way, I think.”
And when he turns, motioning for you to follow, you smile. Your first friend on campus. Sort of.
“Hey, I realised I still don’t know your name,” you say, and Mystery Boy seems to hesitate for a moment, before smiling at you.
“Mark Lee. Engineering faculty. You?”
“Y/N. Early education.”
“So you wanna be a teacher?” he asks, and you shrug. “Don’t know. I’m not sure how much I like working with kids yet.”
“That’s fair. Oh, we’re here.” He halts his steps, joining the queue with you.
It’s not long before the both of you reach the front, the students being registered in pairs.
The person handling the both of you is a young-looking guy, and his nametag reads Jung Jaehyun. When he smiles, his dimples are obvious, and you find yourself relaxing a little.
“Registration documents, please. We’ll get this done quickly,” he says, quickly scanning the papers that you and Mark hand over.
“You’ll be staying in the dorms for the first semester, and then afterwards, you can either do rental on your own, or off-campus housing. Any ideas yet?” Jaehyun asks, and you motion for Mark to go first.
“Um, rental on my own.”
You nod in agreement at that. “Yeah, me too.”
You’ve heard that the off-campus housing isn’t that great, and almost the same price as apartments in the city.
“Well, that works. Though, word of advice-” Jaehyun rests his hand on the table, meeting both of your eyes. “Get a roommate. Or two. Saves lots of money. Preferably one who doesn’t smoke copious amounts of weed, because it stinks up the entire house.”
He says it like he has personal experience, and you cough into your hand, nodding.
“Either of you got roommates yet?”
“No.” You and Mark say it in unison, looking at each other when you realise it and grinning slightly.
Jaehyun leans back, looking at the both of you with an unreadable look in his eyes. “Either of you stoners?”
You and Mark shake your head, and he whistles, impressed. “That’s rare. Well, just rent an apartment together, then.”
You glance at Mark, not quite sure what to say - you just met the man, after all.
“Um, we’ll think about it. Thanks for the suggestion,” he says, and Jaehyun nods. “No problem. here are your nametags, and you can head to the central square for the welcome activities.”
Your fingers close around the thin plastic folder, quickly thanking Jaehyun before you leave with Mark, the suggestion still lingering in your mind.
You do need a roommate. And Mark seems like a chill enough person, unless he’s secretly a serial killer.
“So…where are you planning to rent?”
“Probably somewhere near the city centre, but south. It’s nearer to the engineering faculty.”
When Mark says that, you feel a little bit more hopeful. “Me too. The education building’s just two subway stops down.”
“I wouldn’t mind, actually. You pay rent on time?”
“Yeah, I will. Dividing chores?”
“Of course. Also, just to make sure-” his mouth quirks up at the side. “You’re not a serial killer, right?”
“Fortunately not. I was thinking the same thing too.”
“Okay, great to know that we’re both not serial killers.” His comment lightens the mood a little, and you pause in your steps, outstretching your hand to Mark.
“Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in, and we can be friends first before deciding if we want to rent together next semester.”
He doesn’t protest, quickly slipping his phone out of his pocket and keying in his password.
And as you take it, you see his wallpaper - it’s a little white dog, staring up into the camera while someone’s sneakers are in frame - maybe his.
“Your wallpaper is cute. Is it your dog?” you ask, and Mark’s cheeks redden slightly as he shakes his head. “My friend’s. She’s called Daegal.”
“She’s really small. I wanted a dog when I was a kid,” you say off-handedly, quickly typing in your number and saving it with a ‘Y/N (potential future roomie)’ before giving his phone back to him. “Here.”
“You could get one next time.”
“Maybe. I can barely take care of myself now. I’m not sure if I can handle a dog.”
“I could ask my friend for advice, if you need it,” he says, smiling when he sees the contact name you saved. “Anyways, I’ll see you around, potential future roomie. We can get coffee next week or something.”
“Sounds good to me. By the way, Mark-”
He looks up at you, hands already tucked into his pockets.
“Who’s Hyuck?”
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You only meet Hyuck, or otherwise known to everyone else as Lee Donghyuck, after you actually become roommates with Mark.
Somewhere along the way, the coffee outings had worked out, neither you or Mark finding each other’s presence unwanted, until it became natural to see Mark at least twice a week. Sometimes, it was midnight fries at McDonalds, and other times, it was lunches in the food hall, praying that the fresh pasta hadn’t yet run out.
And when the semester ended, you hadn’t hesitated to sign the lease that Mark handed you, for a perfectly-sized two-bedroom apartment overlooking one of the many crisscrossing side streets that made up the district.
It had the kitchenette you wanted, enough space in the living room for a four-person couch, and space for Mark to put his keyboard and guitar - which was the only thing he really wanted, honestly. The rest of the finishing touches had been suggested by you, like the IKEA oak coffee table and the extra cabinets for storage space.
The first month had been awkward and fraught with trivial disagreements, despite your relatively close friendship. Things like Mark not separating the blacks and whites during his laundry runs, or your terrible habit of leaving the bathroom light on at night. At some point, the both of you had even bickered over what plates to get, partially because you didn’t trust him with fragile items quite yet.
But his easygoing nature matched well with yours, and eventually the both of you settled into the rhythm of living together. He learnt that rule number one was to never go into your room without knocking or asking first, and you eventually stopped nagging at him to put a shirt on unless you were having friends over.
And sometime in August, you had come home, groceries in both of your hands, to find a complete stranger sitting on your couch, headphones placed squarely on his head.
You had screamed at him. and Donghyuck, naturally, had screamed back.
The both of you looked at each other, frozen, before Mark came rushing down the hallway, a confused expression on his face. “What- oh.”
“Mark, I thought you told her I was coming,” the man complains, his honey-brown hair falling over his eyes as he says it. Your gaze immediately shifts to your roommate, a very clear expression of what the hell? on your face.
“I think I forgot. Sorry. Um, Y/N, this is Hyuck.” Mark motions in the general periphery of the man on the couch, who smiles sweetly at you.
“Donghyuck to you. We’re not friends yet. Though we could be,” the boy adds thoughtfully, and you still haven’t quite recovered from the shock of the situation as you nod robotically. “Nice to meet you.”
Mark seems to notice the tension in the air, and immediately moves over to the kitchen counter. “I’ll help you unpack the groceries,” he offers, and you hand a few bags over to him.
Once Donghyuck’s out of earshot, however, you turn to Mark. “Is he staying for dinner? I don’t know if I bought enough ingredients.”
You and Mark had agreed to alternate cooking dinners each week, unless the other person had extenuating circumstances (like final exams). This week, it was your turn.
“It’s fine. If he doesn’t have enough, he can just make ramen,” Mark says, and you nod.
“Mark says you’re a really good cook.” The both of you jump at the sound of Donghyuck’s voice, not realising he came up behind at some point.
“That’s just because I can crack eggs, and Mark can’t.” You snort slightly at the expression on Mark’s face when you say that, his eyes widening in incredulity.
“You said I improved!”
“Having less eggshells to chew through in my omelette was an improvement,” you say, and his face falls comically. While he has made some improvements since learning to cook, you suppose eggs are the one thing that still intimidate him - Mark relies a lot more on oven-baked dinners and the air fryer to get the both of you through.
“You’re brave for eating what he makes,” Donghyuck comments.
“Very brave,” you say gravely, and he laughs. “I like her, Mark. She’s funny.”
“Thanks a lot, guys. Really feeling the love here,” your roommate grumbles, but Donghyuck ignores him, turning to you.
“Can we have kimchi-jjigae for dinner?” he asks, and you stiffen, because the ingredients you prepared are exactly for that dish. But you don’t quite want to give Donghyuck that satisfaction yet, only tilting your head up and narrowing your eyes at him.
“This isn’t a restaurant. You’ll eat what I give you.”
His eyes widen slightly, but it’s quickly replaced by mirth. “Noted, ma’am,” he retorts, and you decide that Donghyuck is the kind of person who’s annoying as all hell, but in the fun kind of way that makes you want to have him around and groan at his presence at the same time.
“Now, I need the both of you to move to the couch, because this kitchenette is way too small for three.” You make a shooing motion towards the two men, and thankfully, they listen obediently, Donghyuck returning back to his laptop.
After a while, you hear shuffling, and you turn to see Mark with his lips pursed, barely holding back a laugh. At the sight of his obvious amusement, you raise an eyebrow.
“Look at this video,” he says, turning the phone screen towards you, and you squint at the grainy resolution, before letting out a groan.
“Mark, this video is like, a decade old. No one watches Vines anymore,” you grumble, and your roommate stares at you incredulously. “But it’s still funny!”
“No, it’s not,” you say dryly, looking to Donghyuck for support, who’s watching the entire thing play out with amusement on his features. “Donghyuck, tell him the video isn’t funny.”
“That’s what I said. He sends me at least two a day,” the boy says from where he’s cross-legged on the couch, and Mark flashes you a look of utter, complete betrayal.
“Sorry, Mark,” you say lightly, patting him on the back in an act of comfort before he returns to the couch, dejected. It’s almost cute, and you hide your snort as you return back to your spot at the stove.
“What about this one?” You hear Mark ask Hyuck a few minutes later, who doesn’t hesitate to disagree and go on a tirade about how he doesn’t understand someone can be that unfunny and think it’s okay to put me through it by sending video after video.
The conversation only makes you smile as you settle into the familiar motion of prepping ingredients, something about it making you feel more at ease and more at home in the apartment that you’ve been in for only four months.
Corny sense of humor aside, you couldn’t ask for a better roommate. And you suppose Lee Donghyuck is okay too.
Eventually, the both of you do become friends, especially when Donghyuck realises the kimchi-jjigae you make is almost as good as his grandma’s, and while she’s a three-hour flight away, you and Mark live twenty minutes from his dorm.
Your freshman year passes that way, the beginning of so many things. Between the months spent studying and sitting at the counter eating ramen at midnight, Mark Lee becomes your best friend, until the both of you are almost inseparable.
And Donghyuck? Well, he comes and goes. Though you suppose you do have a modicum of affection for the overly dramatic theatre major.
There’s something thrilling about being in your final year, less than twelve months before you graduate.
You wonder if everything will be the same as it always is.
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“Who the fuck is Draymond Green?”
“He’s a basketball player, you idiot.”
“You could have said Stephen Curry. I know who that is.”
“Is that the only one you know?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Donghyuck sets down his drink as he says it, eyes deliberately challenging Chenle to continue their pointless banter, one that the rest of you witness quietly, already used to the both of them.
“If the both of you are done, try finishing the food. We ordered too much,” Jisung says, and both Donghyuck and Chenle turn towards him in sync.
“Are you giving me instructions?” Donghyuck asks incredulously.
“I’m older than you, you know,” Chenle not-so-helpfully points out, and you look at the youngest boy sympathetically as his shoulders sink and his lips purse in an almost comical expression of frustration.
Except that it’s Jisung, and you’ve always had a soft spot for the introverted dance major, who’s like a little brother to you.
“Quit it, you two. He acts more mature than the both of you on most days.” At your words, Jisung smiles brightly at you, and you motion for him to eat a little more. “A dance major needs more food.”
“Theatre majors need food too!” Donghyuck whines dramatically, and you don’t hesitate to move the plate away from him, ignoring his protests that become even louder.
“You should eat too,” Mark encourages in a low murmur, picking up the tempura with his chopsticks and placing it on your plate. “You didn’t take much.”
You smile at him, shaking your head. “It’s okay. Yeji bought pizza for everyone today after our meeting, and Ms Lee let us finish the leftover muffins. I’m stuffed.”
“Still, you shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach,” he chides, moving the can of cider a little further from you, and you decide to relent to your best friend’s demand.
“Got it. You know, you should have just gone for a degree in Nutrition,” you tease, and the corner of Mark’s mouth quirks up as he meets your eyes. “I could. But Engineering’s…fun.”
“Don’t lie, Mark. I sat in on one of your lectures once.”
“That’s because it was the middle of the year! And data structures is one of the hardest topics in the syllabus.”
“Still, I think that was enough numbers to last me a lifetime.” You shiver at the memory of the screen, the different formulas displayed having been enough to give you a headache.
“I could teach you,” he offers, and you raise an eyebrow. “You think you’re better than Mr Kim?”
“Probably. Unless you see me as a balding sixty-five-year-old on the verge of sleep.”
“I mean, there is a slight resemblance- ow!”
Mark pinches your side at your comment, taking more food and dumping it in your bowl. “No more nonsense. Eat, or you’re never getting your drink back.”
“You’re so bossy,” you grumble, but you take a few bites anyway, and he looks pleased when he sees you finish a little bit more of the rice.
Until you see Jisung frantically taking out his phone in your peripheral vision, his screen lighting up with something that makes him let out a guttural groan. Donghyuck and Chenle pause their conversation temporarily, just to turn towards him.
“What’s wrong?” Chenle asks, and Jisung seems to hesitate, fingers drumming on the table as he meets your gazes one by one.
“I forgot I have filming at eight tomorrow. Fuck,” he says, ruffling his own hair in frustration.
“And your dorm’s so far away from here too…”
You look at Mark, trying to think of a solution.
“Jisung?” The boy opposite looks up at your mention of his name. “How about you stay at our place tonight?” you offer.
He seems to think about it, glancing towards Mark for approval as well. Your roommate only shrugs. “Sure. We’ll make space.”
All at once, Jisung’s features seem to light up, and he clasps his hands together, head bent down. “Thank you. You two are lifesavers.”
His earnest words make you laugh softly. “Should we head back then? It’s late.”
Mark nods, motioning for the bill, and you pack up your things.
Eventually, the five of you leave the restaurant and step out onto the smooth cobblestone of the street, with Jisung, Donghyuck and Chenle in front while you and Mark trail behind.
“i can’t believe it’s already November,” Mark comments, gaze tilted upwards to the sky.
“Honestly, I don’t think I’ve even registered that we’re in our final year. Much less that the first semester is ending.”
“But you’ve got everything all planned out already, haven't you?”
“Sort of,” you reply sheepishly, and Mark laughs, shaking his head. “You’re way too ambitious. It’s a little scary.”
“Pretty sure I remember someone saying that ambition led to success in my high school Civics class. Either way, I want to retire by the time I’m forty.”
“Before that, could you use your income to buy us a bigger apartment?”
“What, you think we’ll be roommates with each other until I’m forty?”
“I don’t see why not,” Mark says earnestly, and it makes the space he takes up in your heart get a little bigger, curling warmly at the edges.
“I’ll think about it. Maybe I’ll move to an island in the middle of nowhere, away from civilization.”
‘As if. You’re a city girl,” he points out, and you know that Mark knows that you know he’s right. “So, roommates at forty?” he asks, and your lips tilt up involuntarily.
“Sure.”
It’s not long before you’re standing at the entrance of your apartment building, Donghyuck and Chenle waving goodbye before they head to the subway station. Meanwhile, Jisung follows behind the both of you, slightly reminiscent of a lost puppy.
Once you’re back home, you quickly hang your jacket in the cabinet. “I’m showering first, okay?”
The two boys make a noise of assent at your question, and you assume Mark’s going to lend Jisung his clothes to change into as they go down the hallway.
It’s only when you step out of the bathroom that you hear the soft background sound effects of some video game from Mark’s room, Jisung occasionally exclaiming something inaudible, and you smile slightly. Your best friend isn’t one for these sorts of things, but it’s quite a big hobby for the rest of them. There have been a few times where you’ve shuffled out of your bedroom at midnight to tell them to quiet down, usually receiving a few quickly muttered apologies before Donghyuck’s screaming at Mark to get his head in the game.
You hope that they won’t stay up too late, mainly for Jisung’s sake - he has a shoot, after all, and you’re pretty sure Mark doesn’t have any morning lessons on Saturdays.
Sleep finds you quickly, the alcohol from earlier making you just the right amount of drowsy as you attempt to set an alarm for tomorrow for breakfast.
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“Y/N.”
“Hey, wake up.”
“Y/N.”
You let out a groan into your pillow, turning away from the dream voice that sounds suspiciously like Mark - you’re too tired to deal with this.
But the voice doesn’t go away, instead changing to an insisted hand on your shoulder, shaking you awake, and you open your eyes to glare sleepily at your best friend, before looking at the clock.
“It’s four in the morning, Mark. Unless there’s a fire or something-”
“If there was a fire, I’d sound a lot more panicked than this, don’t you think?” he shoots back sarcastically, and you take in his appearance - he’s wearing a grey hoodie, a pillow hugged in his left arm, and looking just a little forlorn.
“What is it? I want to sleep,” you mumble.
“Jisung takes up too much space. And he snores.”
“Just push him.”
“I tried! Fell off the bed,” he confesses, and you would laugh at the scene, except that you’re still half-asleep.
“Can I just sleep here for tonight?” he asks, doe eyes blinking at you blearily, and you hesitate at the request - it’s not like you’re uncomfortable with Mark sleeping next to you. You’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder plenty of times, and there was that one time where you literally passed out drunk and the boy had to piggyback you to your apartment, but this is your bed.
However, you’re also well aware that Mark’s bed is a twin size, which is smaller and probably highly uncomfortable for him and Jisung to share, while yours is a queen.
You were being overdramatic. It was just a bed, and Mark was your best friend. Of three years, no less.
Also, it literally didn’t have to mean anything.
Right?
There was plenty of space. Enough for you to keep your distance from him.
You chalk up your doubts to late-night overthinking, and nod slowly. Well, as best as someone can nod while lying on their side, but it’s enough for Mark to smile at you gratefully.
“Take the left side. If you move over, I’ll kick you,” you threaten, and he nods eagerly. “Noted.”
And just for security, you place a pillow between the both of you.
It’s only when he’s lying down next to you, breathing evened out, that you peek open one eye. “Go to sleep.”
“Yeah, I will soon,” he promises, turning to face you. In the darkness of the room, you can barely make out his features, but you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. “Goodnight, Y/N.”
Something about it feels strangely sweet, enough for your cheeks to redden slightly as you turn resolutely away from him, staring hard at the wall of your cabinet. “Night.”
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Two months into your lease with Mark, the both of you had created your informal agreement, otherwise labelled as ‘Roommate Code of Honour’ on Mark’s Notes app.
“Code of honour? What are you, a boy scout?”
“I was, actually. First-class,” Mark says without hesitation, and you almost choke on the mouthful of chocolate cake that you have.
“Makes sense.” He seemed exactly like the kind of person who would be a boy scout.
“Anyways, this is just for us to put down stuff that we think is important. Like, I know that we’re supposed to separate the blacks and whites, but-”
“But-”
“What about coloured clothing?” he asks, and you gape at him. “Mark, have you been washing all the coloured clothes together?”
“Maybe…” he trails off, gaze leaving yours and anxiously taking a sip of the drink.
“Okay, this is a good idea. Give me your phone,” you say as you stretch out your hand, but Mark pulls his phone back from you.
“This is meant to be a collaborative process, Y/N.”
“It wasn’t collaborative the moment you turned all my white shirts grey.”
Mark winces at that. “Fair point. But we still need to be equal on this.”
“Fine,” you relent.
And over an hour, seated on the second floor of your favourite cafe, you and Mark pick the ten most important things that you want to keep, the others either compromised or decided as simply too insignificant.
#1: money (mark covers utilities, y/n handles groceries and household items)
#2: always put the toilet seat back down (and clean your hair off the sink after shaving)
“You leave hair all over the place too!” Mark protests, and you roll your eyes.
#2: always put the toilet seat back down (and clean your hair off everywhere)
#3: laundry and cleaning the house will be alternated each week
#4: two days’ advance notice before having anyone over (not required for hyuck, yeji, jaemin or karina)
“Does this include hookups?” you ask, and Mark blushes at that question. “Yeah, I guess.”
“No hookups on nights where the other person has to wake up early the next day,” you add, and he nods. “Sure.”
Most of them are trivial, but important - and despite all your teasing, you’re grateful for someone like Mark, who’s willing to be a good roommate.
Until you reach the last one, which makes you smile.
#10: movie nights are every friday at 10pm
Mark had argued something about ‘roommate bonding’, or the importance of relationship-building- you weren’t quite sure what exactly, but the idea had sounded good to you.
Because you’d never been one for university parties, preferring to stay in unless your presence was absolutely required, but the idea of unwinding with your close friend at the end of the week was a welcome form of socialization.
“Do we pick the movie every week?” you ask, and he nods. “We can make a list too.”
“Okay.” You slide the phone back over to him, finishing the last of your coffee. “I think this looks good.”
“Me too,” Mark says, satisfaction tugging at his lips, and his eyes are bright as he looks at you.
The atmosphere feels strangely light and hopeful - as if it’s just the very start of something.
And you’re right - because throughout sophomore and junior year, Mark becomes the one most constant thing in your life. The both of you have changed slightly in your own ways, but the movie nights are still the one thing you look forward to at the end of the week, where your legs are thrown over his lap and whatever takeout you’ve gotten for dinner spread out over the coffee table.
Today is another one of those days, and you wonder how both you and Mark haven’t run out of movies to watch yet - he said something about Avatar today, you think, having sent you a text earlier of the poster.
When you kick off your shoes in the doorway, Mark’s already on the couch, absentmindedly nibbling at the popcorn.
“Starting without me?” you ask, and he shakes his head, handing you your own bowl.
It was another thing that the both of you had agreed on - after all, you liked your popcorn sweet and caramel-flavoured, and while you couldn’t understand how someone liked salty popcorn, well - there was Mark.
Which meant two separate bowls chock-full of the snack, enough to make the both of you happy.
“Mark,” you start, and the man hums in acknowledgement. “You know we have a Disney Plus subscription, right? And Netflix too?”
“Yeah, but the movie just came out like, five days ago. This is pirated.”
“We can just wait for it to be uploaded, then.”
“But I really want to watch it,” he half-pleads and half-whines. “Besides, Hyuck went, and he’ll definitely spoil it.”
You suppose he’s right, but as you lean back, crossing your legs on the couch, you frown. “We’re going to get porn pop-ups every thirty minutes.”
He coughs awkwardly at that, making you grin slightly. It’s strange how shy he gets, considering you’d expect Mark to at least have some experience with girls - or at least not act like the topic of sex is enough to make him embarrassed.
However, he’s still fiddling with the laptop, crouched next to the console, when you poke his side with your foot.
You have a crazy idea. A good one, but crazy nonetheless.
“What if we went to the cinema right now?” you ask, and he blinks at you, stunned.
“Right now? It’s like, one hour to midnight.”
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure they have showings.” You whip out your phone for emphasis, quickly going to the website and letting out a hum of satisfaction when you find it.
“Thirty minutes. We can make it.”
Mark looks at you hesitantly - always having been the less spontaneous one of the both of you. But it’s a Friday, after all, and it’s good, harmless fun.
And you know he really wants to watch the movie, if the way he’s on freemovies123.com and patiently waiting for each risqué ad to disappear is any indication.
“I’ll pay for tickets,” you offer, smiling knowingly when he lights up a little - it’s characteristic of any college student to perk up at the mention of anything free, after all, and you know he’s slowly shifting to a ‘yes’.
It’s barely a few seconds before he shuts his laptop, meeting your gaze. “We should get changed. It’s cold out today.”
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There’s one good thing about having a roommate with a driving license - that it’s not you.
Because while Mark worries about traffic lights and less-than-friendly taxi drivers, you’re staring out the window absentmindedly, enjoying Bruno Major filtering out the speakers.
It had been one thing he wanted - a good sound system, just so the both of you could enjoy your playlists on the road.
Thankfully, the timing means that there’s barely anyone else around as Mark goes down the highway, humming softly to the music.
“I like late-night drives with you,” you chirp, gaze fixed on Mark’s expression as he smiles, face fading in and out of the golden light of the street lamps.
“Any particular reason?”
“You’re a good driver,” you start, and he turns towards you briefly, narrowing his eyes. “You make me sound like an Uber hire.”
“Um-” you lick your lips. “You have good music?” you try, and your best friend lets out a laugh that sounds more like a scoff, shaking his head. “You’re hopeless,” he says, and you immediately lean closer, shaking your head.
“It’s not just that! When you drive, I-” you hesitate, trying to find the exact words. “I feel really safe. I don’t really feel that way with anyone else on the road.”
Mark doesn’t respond for a few moments, but from the way his hands tighten on the wheel, you know he heard every word clearly.
After a while, he finally speaks.
“Is that why you get me to drive you everywhere?” he asks, and you nod slowly, until you see the corners of his mouth turned up in amusement, earning him a punch on the shoulder from you.
“Don’t laugh. I’m serious. Car accidents can do a lot to a person, you know.”
It’s only then that Mark straightens. “Car accident?”
“Yeah,” you hum, fiddling with the volume of the music to turn it down. “Got into one when I was a kid.”
“How bad?”
“Not that bad. I was in the backseat, so there were only a few scrapes. The other car got it worse, honestly.”
You’ve never told anyone else about this, simply because it’s never quite come up. But when you spend so much time with someone like Mark, small snippets of your life come up eventually - like how you know he sprained his ankle once playing soccer, or that he failed art in elementary school but got perfect grades for music.
And when the feeling of his hand settles warmly over yours, you’re yanked out of your thoughts, blankly staring at his fingers winding themselves between your thumb and your index.
It causes heat to flood through you, even though you’re aware the action is meant to be soothing.
When you hear his next words, however, it’s enough to make your heart soften to a dangerous degree - of such unspeakable fondness that only Mark has been able to elicit to some extent.
“I’ll drive you everywhere from now on, okay? Promise,” he smiles softly as he says it, tugging your pinky towards his own before you can even respond to seal the agreement.
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Even when he was a kid, Mark took easily to leadership.
He remembers standing on the podium on his first day on the job as student president, socks cuffed at the perfect length past his ankles, as he delivered his first stuttered-out address to hundreds of middle-schoolers no older than him.
It got easier after that, as he fell into the role more comfortably.
After that, it was chairperson of his high-school music club, helping to compose different pieces for the summer and winter festivals.
Now, in university, he supposes there aren’t really things like student council presidents anymore - everyone is interested in their own lives, and Mark’s not entirely sure he enjoys the entire process of putting himself out there to be judged.
It’s always been the people who made him want to do what he did, and Mark supposes that now his attention is turned to his friends. Reigning in Donghyuck’s more mischievous and unrestrained impulses, preventing Jisung from making the same naive decisions he did at twenty, or getting Jaemin to leave the house to meet his friends and not give in to his natural tendency of isolation - it’s something that he does gladly. Mark would like to think that he knows his friends well, and being the oldest makes him the best-suited to take on the responsibility.
Still, there are times when he likes letting go, not thinking and worrying so hard - most of the time it’s being alone with just his guitar. In those few hours, his brain seems to go perfectly quiet.
Other times, it’s you pulling him into a cinema at midnight, two movie tickets and a brand-new box of popcorn hugged in your arm.
When you halt your footsteps, Mark doesn’t even realise until you’re standing in front of him. If he just angled his face down slightly, the tips of your noses would brush.
“Didn’t you say you really wanted to watch this?” you ask, lashes fluttering, and Mark nods. “Yeah.”
“Then why do you look so sad?” You’re frowning at him, and he has the temptation to smooth out the line in your forehead with his thumb.
“I’m really happy, actually,” he murmurs, and he means it. There’s something about this entire thing that makes him feel more peaceful than he has in a long time. “I was just thinking.”
Thinking about you, to say the least. He didn’t know he could be so comfortable with a person, that spending time felt as easy as breathing.
Thankfully, you don’t question his cryptic words further, only tightening your hold on the tickets. “Let’s walk quicker then. You always complain when we miss the beginning of movies.”
You say it with the easy familiarity of someone who knows him well, and Mark laughs softly. “That’s because you always take too long to get ready.”
“I don’t!”
“You once spent one hour trying to curl your hair, and then decided to leave it straight.”
“That was for your cousin’s wedding. My hair needed to look decent. Besides, I’m the only plus one you have. Who would you ask? Hyuck?”
“Maybe. I’m sure he’d look good in a wig.”
“But your family loves me,” you say smugly, and Mark can’t give a response against that, because you’re right. You’re practically adored by everyone, from his grandparents to even his youngest niece.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” he murmurs, but you only grin. “Can’t help it.”
Eventually, you finally reach the doors of the cinema hall, and Mark pushes the door open, a cold gust of air-conditioning hitting the both of you directly as you make your way down to the seats.
When you shiver, he looks at you disapprovingly. “I thought I told you to wear something warm.”
“A long-sleeved shirt is warm,” you protest, and he huffs, but shrugs off his denim jacket anyways.
“Take it. If you get a flu, I have to take care of you.”
“Thank you,” you say sweetly, quickly wearing it on. “Besides, you owe me one for that time you got stomach flu.”
Mark shivers at the very mention of it. Almost six months ago, and yet he still remembers barely being able to get out of bed. That week, you had come home immediately each time your lectures ended, searching up different websites for recipes that wouldn't upset his stomach. Porridge, soups, stews - Mark was pretty sure you had cycled through hundreds of different ingredients, and blew a complete hole in your allowance deliberately only buying organic, but you resolutely refused to tell him about it until he found you eating instant ramen the next month.
It was equal parts frustrating and endearing - the way you wouldn’t tell anyone about your problems, until you were pestered endlessly. Not so different from him, he supposed, though you took it to an even greater degree.
“Mark, I can hear you thinking. Stop and watch the movie,” you chide, grabbing his upturned palm and placing a handful of popcorn on it.
He turns to see you, profile lit against the bright lights of the screen, as you laugh at some advertisement being shown, eyes bright despite the late hour, and Mark thinks this might become one of his favourite memories with you.
And it does, even when you fall asleep in the car four hours later and he has to carry you up, your arms slung around his neck.
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Mark Lee is showering when he hears a scream.
It’s shrill enough to make him turn off the water, the steam clearing until he sees his own reflection in the glass.
“Y/N? You good?” He asks it loud enough for you to hear, but there isn’t a response.
You’re not a jumpy person, and while you would probably be alright if he just continued his shower, a what if of worry has Mark wrapping a towel around his waist and opening the door.
However, you’re nowhere to be seen in the hallway, and Mark moves to the living room, seeing you backfacing him, a spoon still in your hands and your posture unnaturally defensive.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, and you turn, an expression of abject horror etched on your features.
“There’s a cockroach somewhere. I saw it on the floor, and it’s gone now,” you say in a rush, and Mark laughs.
“Don’t laugh! This is serious,” you say to him, and your roommate only shakes his head. He’s aware of your fear of bugs, though, which is why he takes the spoon from your hands and steers you towards the hallway.
“If you’re that scared, go to your room. I’ll catch it later.”
You nod in agreement. “You still have shampoo in your hair, by the way,” you point out, and he rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, because someone screamed so loud that I thought there was a murderer in our apartment.”
“I think I would have a better chance of surviving anyways,” you bite back, and Mark glances doubtfully at the spoon in your hand, and then back at you.
“Sure, Y/N.”
You wave him off. “Enjoy your shower.”
However, right as Mark places his hand on the door handle, there’s another shriek. He spots the cockroach first, scuttling across the floor, before he sees you barrelling towards him.
“Oh my god!” you shout as you run towards Mark, and his arms reflexively open as you hug him tightly in fear - not entirely registering the fact that he is still very much half-naked.
You’re gripping onto him tightly, face buried into the crook of his neck, and it’s a few seconds before Mark realizes the proximity of your position, every inch of your body warm against his bare skin.
It’s enough to make the tips of his ears flush scarlet, and Mark can’t hear anything other than the aggressive beating of his heart.
“Um, Y/N-” he makes an attempt to start, patting you on the shoulder gently. “Let me go.”
You seem to realise it at the same time he does, quickly stepping back, eyes wide. “Shit, sorry.”
Mark lets out a laugh, even though it comes out choked. “It’s okay. Just- I’ll shower and come right back out, okay?”
“Yeah. That’s a good idea,” you stutter out, all thoughts of the insect forgotten as you backtrack hastily into your room, quickly shutting the door behind you.
Mark stares blankly at the oak wood of your bedroom door, before blinking to clear his head. “Jesus,” he mutters, wondering what the hell just happened.
His body feels warm all over, almost like he’s having a fever, and it’s like he can still feel the sensation of your palms flat against his lower back, your breath tickling the space between his neck and shoulder.
And when he sees his reflection in the mirror, there are two spots of bright red on his cheeks.
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Everything returns to normal after that.
Well, almost.
Other than the fact that Mark can’t seem to stop thinking about you.
It’s bad enough that as his roommate and best friend, you already take up a decently large space of his brain - whether it’s worrying about when you’ll get home once it’s past midnight, or messaging you to ask if you want takeout.
But something about this is a hundred times worse.
Because just the sight of you is enough to have blood rushing to his face, his head darting down to avoid your gaze.
And Mark feels stupid. For God’s sake, he’s not some teenage boy - he’s already twenty-three, and yet he’s acting like a twelve-year-old who just held hands with a girl for the first time.
He’s shared a bed with you. He’s watched you cry after you failed your first exam, tears and snot balled up into countless tissues and filling up the little trashbin in your room. At some point, he had helped to clean up your vomit when you got a bad case of food poisoning.
To be fair, that was because the pancakes he made for breakfast were only half-cooked, so it was sort of his responsibility.
But the fact remains that Mark’s done hundreds of things with you, and spent countless hours by your side - all of which have allowed him to function normally without feeling like his heart is about to combust.
But now, he can’t even sit next to you without his words turning into stuttering chunks of speech.
It doesn’t help that you’re also naturally affectionate, a habit that you picked up from Donghyuck, of all people, and each time you slide your arm into his or wrap a hand around his waist is enough to have his brain short-circuit.
Deep down, Mark has an inkling why he’s like this.
He just really hopes it isn’t true.
It’s not something he’s told anyone, not Chenle, not Renjun, not even Hyuck, who practically knows all of Mark’s deepest, darkest secrets.
That for a minuscule, short duration of three months, Mark had a crush on you. The pretty girl who he collided directly into on the very first day.
There were times when he wondered if the coffee trips could be labelled dates, or if it was a figment of his hyperactive imagination and racing heart. And as the both of you got closer, Mark always teetered between the temptation of trying to ask you out and the fear that he still didn’t know you that well.
Until the both of you got too close as friends, and it was more comfortable to simply stay within the boundaries of friendship. And eventually, Mark put it behind him, seeing those three initial months as nothing more but a simple infatuation that preceded his friendship with you.
And it wasn’t like you had expressed a lot of interest in him either, occasionally complaining to Mark about dates you went on or the newest eye candy that you had seen on campus.
So he let it go, and Mark thought he could be perfectly happy like this.
Until last week, when he was returned to freshman year.
Since then, Mark has been avoiding you with the excuse of coursework, partly for the own good of his heart and also because he doesn’t want to throw you off with his sudden, odd behaviour.
But you know him a little too well, which means that when Friday comes, you’re banging on his bedroom door.
“Mark Lee, I know you’re done with your coursework. Let me in,” you demand, and the man gulps nervously, wishing that he’d bought those noise-cancelling headphones so he could at least use them as an excuse.
He sidles towards the door reluctantly, feet dragging even as little pinpricks of excitement jab at his heart - a sensation he’s quickly come to associate with you.
“Hey. Um, you need anything?” he asks, voice tight with nervousness.
“I need to know why my best friend’s avoiding me like the plague,” you say without hesitating, slipping in through the small space between his body and the door before he can kick you out.
“i’m not avoiding you. I’m just really busy,” Mark lies. “Like, with school and stuff.”
God, it sounds bad even to his ears.
“I hope you know I didn’t believe that for a second,” you say, walking to his desk and looking directly at his completely-shut laptop.
“I-” Mark’s throat feels dry as you abruptly turn towards him, cutting across the room and facing him directly, hands squared on your hips as you tilt your head.
“Did you commit a crime? I know how to hide a body, you know.”
“…No?”
“Forgot to pay rent? Left the stove on? Or-”
“It’s none of that!” He says, hands instinctively reaching for your shoulders to halt you from listing any other potential transgressions he might have made.
And when you meet his eyes again, you look properly frustrated, before you seem to sink slightly, voice turning a little softer.
“Did I do something…wrong? You can tell me, you know.” You blink up at him slowly, and Mark’s heart feels bittersweet as he sees the slight worry in your gaze.
“No. Of course not.” Guilt rises in his stomach - of course his standoffish behaviour would make you think the worst. ‘’It’s none of that.”
Mark wishes that he could kick his feelings to the side and shove them far down, if only to make the doubt in your features go away. Considering that it’s you he has these feelings for, however, makes the task seem near impossible, but Mark thinks it doesn’t hurt to try.
So he smiles, bright enough to make you relax a little. “It’s really just school. I realised I actually need to do well to graduate, and I didn’t want my stress to get to you.”
At his words, your eyes glaze over with a familiar, warm empathy, and Mark tries not to let his relief become too palpable. “I get it. But, Mark-”
“Hm?”
“You can come to me for these sorts of things, you know? When you’re stressed. I want to be that person for you.”
What you’re saying is simple- expected, even, considering the nature of your relationship with him, but it still knocks the breath out of Mark.
He’s loved by you. That much is clear, even if it’s not exactly in the way he so desperately wishes to be loved by you. But even this is enough.
“Okay. Yeah, I will,” he promises, realising that he doesn’t hate the bittersweet feeling in his heart that is already so closely associated with you - not when it’s constantly soothed by the quiet happiness of having you by his side.
“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You loop your arm in his, pulling him out of the room. “Since that’s resolved, no more hiding in your room.”
“But-”
“No buts. We study here from now on. you’re not the only one with exams, you know,” you say as you bring your books and laptop out, scattering them across the dining table.
Mark can tell when you’ve set your mind on something, and so he doesn’t resist, placing his own things opposite you and welcoming it when you smile in approval.
For a while, he sits there blankly - he wasn’t even studying in the first place, after all, and he’s already well-prepared for his technical exam next week, but he’s pulled out of his thoughts when you call his name expectantly.
You’ve already made yourself comfortable by the window, your headphones resting snugly around your ears as you tilt your head at him, eyes bright.
You look pretty, as always.
But Mark’s almost-adoring gaze is left unnoticed by you as you frown at him. Study, you mouth, picking up your textbook and pointing to it for emphasis in a way that makes a laugh bubble out his chest.
It’s cute. You’re cute.
If he doesn’t do as you say, however, Mark’s cover will genuinely be busted, and so the man genuinely tries to immerse himself in revision for his readings as best as he can.
And if he occasionally sneaks glances just to admire you in the golden glow of dusk that spills through the window - well, it didn’t happen if you didn’t catch him, did it?
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You’re standing in the kitchen when you hear Mark’s bedroom door open, and a soft yawn from the hallway.
“Morning. I made toast, and Chenle gave us a new bottle of jam the other day,” you say, pushing a plate across the counter.
“Thanks,” he says, voice still rough from sleep and eyes only half-open as he munches absentmindedly at the first piece of bread he picks up.
He’s always the sleepiest on Thursday mornings, mainly because the lectures are first thing in the morning and on the furthest side of the campus. And considering how much of a night owl Mark is, waking up anytime before ten is practically punishment for him.
Meanwhile, you’re perfectly chirpy, already having gotten your first coffee of the day down and your usual omelette slowly cooking away in the pan.
“You know, Donghyuck suggested doing a trip during winter break,” you say, and Mark hums in agreement, thinking it over. “To where?”
“Out of the city. Maybe to the beach. I think it would be fun.”
“Are you going to plan it, then?” he asks, and you nod excitedly. You’ve always had a penchant for travelling, and maybe it’s because of your course in early education - you’re already used to organizing different programmes.
“I was thinking we would do a barbecue, and then maybe just some games and karaoke. Though I’m sure some of the guys want to go biking, and I think Yeji mentioned doing a pottery class or checking out local markets.” You ramble out all your ideas in a rush, but Mark only nods at your every word.
“I’m sure we can figure something out.”
“We just need to find a house big enough for all twelve of us- ouch!” Your sentence is cut off by a sharp exclamation of pain as you pull your hand back, an unsightly red patch already forming on the area between your index and thumb.
You hadn’t even realised you had gotten that close to the stove when you turned around to speak to Mark. It’s not your first time getting burned - you had accidentally brushed your arm against the top of your oven when you were sixteen, but the pain is enough to make you wince in alarm.
Still, it’s tolerable as you rush to the sink and turn on the cold water, Mark materializing by your side within seconds.
“You okay?” he asks, now fully-awake as he grabs your wrist, turning it over gently to inspect the injury.
“Yeah.” You shake your head. “Small mistake. I’ll manage it.”
You turn off the tap, planning to get some ice, but Mark’s faster than you. “Take this. I’ll get the antiseptic cream.”
“I can handle it. You should get ready for class,” you urge, but he shakes his head, already disappearing down the hallway.
When he reappears, the small white tube is in his hands, and Mark motions for you to place your hand in his. “This might hurt a little,” he murmurs, blinking up at you through his lashes, and you nod.
“Wouldn’t have thought.”
You don’t get to make another wisecrack, however, the moment his thumb brushes over the wound. Mark’s gentle, dabbing at it as softly as possible, but your breathing still tightens.
Eventually, the sting gets a little more bearable, and you watch as the reddish patch fades to a less angry tone. “Done,” Mark says, quickly smoothing a plaster over it. “Don’t let it get near water, and don’t let it get dirty.”
“Got it, dad.” He rolls his eyes at that and you nudge his shoulder. “You really should go for class now.”
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” he asks, eyes wide, and the concern that’s evident in Mark’s eyes makes your heart flutter warmly. “It’s just a burn, Mark. The next time I break my leg, I’ll make you carry me around for a month.”
He frowns. “Don’t say that. I don’t want you to break a leg.”
“I’ll be careful, I promise. Look, if you’re that worried-” you stretch your hand out to him, palm facing the ceiling as you grin. “-you can kiss it better.”
The request is a teasing one, one that you expect to turn Mark the colour of a tomato - after all, he’s made shy easily, and always embarrassed at things like this.
Yet, what you don’t expect is the immediate feeling of the boy’s lips against your skin, no hesitation on his part as he places the gentlest of kisses at the corner between your thumb and your index.
You freeze. There’s no way Mark just did that.
There’s no way the same person who would shove you away when you attempted to place a kiss on his cheek, nervously sputtering, or the one who jerked away the first time you tried to hug him, is now smiling up at you in a way that could be seen as almost cocky, eyes blinking innocently up at you.
“Better?” he asks lowly, placing another kiss for emphasis in a way that makes your heart go haywire.
Your throat feels dry when you make an attempt to reply to him. “Yeah. All better,” you force out, quickly retracting your hand and shoving it into the pocket of your sweatpants. Far away from boys who think it’s a good idea to kiss it and make your mind go blank.
“Well, I’m going, then,” he says, now finally having the familiar lopsided grin that you’re used to - despite that, however, your heart lurches with fondness as you watch him grab his bag and hoodie before waving at you.
“Bye,” you exhale out, hands unconsciously finding the cool marble of the countertop in a quest for stability, until the door finally shuts.
You’re faced with an empty hallway, finally, as you attempt to process the events of the past fifteen minutes, the pain of the burn now an afterthought.
What the fuck just happened?
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Mark thinks he might be going insane.
Completely, veritably insane.
Kissing your hand was an impulse decision - mainly because he wanted to get back at you for making those flirtatious remarks all the damn time without any idea of how they messed with his head.
But part of it was also because you had asked so sweetly, and Mark found himself quite incapable of refusing you. And the two spots of pink that had dusted your cheeks after were worth it.
However, it seems that he’s suffering much more than you are - what with the events of the past week. It’s as if he can’t help but notice the smallest, most insignificant things about you, that are enough to make him fall a little deeper, a little further down to where it’s harder to get out.
Like how you hum to yourself when you water the plants on the windowsill, and it’s always that one song - the one that your dad played for you as a kid, and which you added into Mark’s playlist without him knowing. Or how Mark always leaves his guitar all over the house, but you make sure to return it to its usual spot next to his bed.
Even worse, you’re always leaning your head on his shoulder, or reaching out to fiddle with the strings of his hoodie. It feels good being close to you - Mark loves it, in fact, but it also makes him terribly nervous in a way that makes him stiffen awkwardly whenever you brush a little too close to him.
Now, however, Mark realises he might be the one on the losing end as he sits in his Structural Analysis lecture and wonders what it would be like to actually kiss you.
His pen is spinning in his hands - he hasn’t written down a single thing in the past thirty minutes, and Mr Lee’s already sending him suspicious glances from across the room, but Mark has mostly been a model student for the past two years, which is why he supposes his lecturer bites his tongue.
Still, he can’t keep going like this. Not when he feels like his heart is constantly about to burst out of his chest, and he has to physically stop himself from spinning you by the waist and planting his lips firmly on yours.
Of course, he’d never do that unless you gave any indication that you wanted it, but it’s hard. It’s hard to have you so close and yet completely out of Mark’s reach.
As a child, he would stand at the seashore, feet half-buried in the sand as he looked out to the glittering blue expanse of sea, and the horizon that lay beyond. There was always something about the warm orange hues and pink streaks that took his breath away, so beautiful that he wanted to swim towards it endlessly.
You’re his horizon now, a thousand gorgeous sunsets contained in a single person and enough to make Mark feel like he’s living and dying all at once.
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The next week, you’re sitting on the couch scrolling on your phone when Mark’s footsteps alert you to his presence.
Right as you lift your head to see him, however, you frown. “Why are you dressed like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like…you’re going to work out. Or something,” you reply, giving him a once-over. Joggers, a dry-fit shirt and track shoes, complete with a water bottle in his hands - something’s definitely up.
“That’s because I am,” he answers, an amused tilt of his lips evident as he takes in the surprise on your face.
“No way. I tried getting you to do that fitness program in freshman year, and you said you’d rather die than exercise.”
“That was because I can’t do yoga for shit. I’m going to the gym with Jeno today.”
At the mention of the other boy, you nod, slowly processing the information. It makes sense that Jeno would drag him to the gym, considering the boy has long made a habit of it with Jaemin. But still, the fact that Mark agreed makes you narrow your eyes.
“Why the sudden interest, though?” you ask, turning over to rest your head on the couch and stretch out your legs.
Mark only shrugs, slinging his towel over his shoulder. “Finally found the time. Besides, seniors get free access. If you didn’t notice, I’ve been going with Jeno since the start of the year.”
It’s currently June, which means six months. Though it’s likely that you probably couldn’t make the distinction between when he was going to the gym or lessons, because Mark perpetually lived in sweatpants and a hoodie.
“Fair enough. Have fun,” you call, tugging a pillow to hug to your body as you find a new social media site to scroll through.
However, you find your eyes drifting to Mark as he fills his bottle at the sink, carefully scrutinising your best friend for any evident changes.
You suppose his shoulders have broadened considerably since freshman year, jawline a little more defined than the round-cheeked boy you first met. Nothing out of the ordinary - plenty of the same changes had happened to the other boys, and it wasn’t as if you hadn’t made changes to your own appearance over the many years.
However, Mark’s usually dressed in the baggiest of sweaters and hoodies, only changing into a fitted shirt today due to the warm summer weather, and your cheeks redden when you find your eyes drifting to the way the muscles in his back stretch when he reaches for something on the upper shelf, a faint line appearing on his forearms as he unscrews the cap and adds his vitamins inside.
He looks good. Better than he should. You don’t even realize you’re shamelessly ogling your best friend until he looks up at you, eyes directly meeting yours in a way that makes you jump.
“Everything okay?” he asks, and you nod slowly, forcing your eyes away from anything but the way his collarbones peek out from beneath his shirt.
This is Mark. Your roommate, who you most definitely shouldn’t stare at in a borderline-creepy way. no matter how attractive he may seem.
Thankfully, you regain your senses quickly enough, darting your head back down until it’s half-veiled by the pillow. “Get a grip, Y/N,” you mutter to yourself.
“Well, I’m gonna go,” Mark calls, and you physically stop yourself from looking up, instead choosing to extend your arm upwards to wave.
“Bye! Go!” you say with no little urgency, sensing Mark’s palpable confusion from your bizarre confusion a few metres away.
Nevertheless, he grabs his things, the door eventually closing shut.
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It’s halfway through his last set that Jeno appears above Mark, a bottle of ice-cold water in his hands.
“Thanks,” he says as he sits up from the bench press, quickly taking a large gulp. “What are you doing after this?”
“Giselle asked me to grab dinner with her.”
At his words, Mark grins, nudging Jeno’s knee. “Do the both of you have something going on?”
Jeno only huffs, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “We’re just friends. Don’t overthink it. You and Y/N, on the other hand…”
The mention of your name is enough to make Mark cough awkwardly, gaze darting away. And while Jeno doesn’t say anything, it’s Jaemin who’s perceptive as ever, a teasing smile on his face as he meets Mark’s nervous gaze.
“Out with it. What’s up with the both of you?” he asks curiously.
“Um,” Mark coughs, swiping off the beads of sweat that seem to have mysteriously materialized at his temples. “Nothing.”
It’s as honest of a reply that he can give, because there really isn’t much for Mark to say. While Mark freaks out inside each time you say something, life seems to be going on normally for you.
Jeno hums. “Doesn’t seem like nothing.”
Frustration bubbles up in Mark at those words, though it’s not directed at Jaemin or Jeno, but instead at himself.
“I mean, I like her-”
“I knew it,” Jaemin declares, crossing his arms over his chest. “Took you long enough.”
Mark leans back, chuckling softly. “Just realised it myself a few days ago, honestly.”
It wasn’t as if Mark hadn’t had a crush on anyone before - rather, it was that being with you felt slightly different from the rest. The butterflies aside, there was something else that tugged at the pit of his stomach each time he thought about you. It was akin to the split-second adrenaline he felt on top of rollercoasters, just before it came tumbling straight down.
And he wasn’t sure what to make of that. Mark thought a better word to describe his affection for you was yearning, rather than just a simple like. Like didn’t seem to quite explain how being in your presence never quite tired him out, how you were the one person that Mark didn’t need a social battery for. He was simply so used to you at this point, that having you around felt natural, felt right.
“He’s definitely in love. Look at him,” Jaemin whispers to his dormmate, just out of Mark’s earshot. Jeno’s eyes only crinkle slightly, as he shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter if he won’t do anything about it.”
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The first time someone called Donghyuck a himbo was sophomore year.
He had sat next to Shin Ryujin, hungover from the night before, and it took him a full fifteen minutes to realise that he did indeed have an assignment due that day, one which his professor was currently collecting.
Naturally, he did what any desperate student would do - he turned to Ryujin and asked very nicely if he could borrow her work, to which she had only ignored him and turned back to her own laptop.
“It’s a creative assignment. Mrs Park’s not going to scroll through two identical assignments without busting your ass.”
“I could change some of the grammar,” Donghyuck offers helpfully, but the glare that she flashes him makes him shrink back.
“Just ask her for an extension.”
“I’m scared.”
“You’re already known as the campus himbo. What do you have to be scared of?”
“A himbo?” Donghyuck tilts his head. He hasn’t heard anyone describe him as a himbo yet, though he’s received things like idiot, annoying asshole, dumbass motherfu- most of them from Mark, but he doesn’t quite mention that to Shin Ryujin.
“It means you’re pretty to look at, but you’ve got nothing inside your head.”
Donghyuck grins. “You think I’m pretty?” he asks, batting his eyelashes for dramatic effect, and Ryujin rolls her eyes. “Even if you were pretty, your personality ruins it.”
“Hey!”
“I’m right, Donghyuck. You’re a daily reminder to me why I’m better off liking women,” she shoots, and he feels genuinely wounded at that.
“You just like women because you think Yeji’s pretty-” Donghyuck’s voice is muffled by Ryujin’s hand over his mouth, her gaze wide with alarm.
“She’s right there, Donghyuck. Mouth shut, or I’ll kill you,” she whispers harshly, eyes darting nervously to the girl she’s had a not-so-secret crush on for the longest time, before turning back to Donghyuck, who nods obediently.
“You should just tell her,” he advises, and Ryujin purses her lips, before shaking her head. “No. For one, I’m not sure if she likes women at all, and two - even if she did, I might not be her type.”
“Well, you can try.”
“And get rejected? No thanks,” she replies, closing the tabs on her laptop. “Besides, you shouldn’t been giving me advice. You would barely know if someone liked you back.”
Donghyuck supposes Ryujin was right then - he’s quite oblivious to cues, and God knows the number of girls that have confessed to him while he blinked at them cluelessly. It’s not his fault that he’s on the affectionate side, and Donghyuck is affectionate with everyone.
But now, this is different. This doesn’t involve him, and Donghyuck would like to think that he’s at least quite perceptive to a shift in two of his closest friends.
It doesn’t take him long to figure out why exactly Mark seems so skittish in your presence, or why you seem so tightly wound-up, like a spring about to snap.
The both of you have the largest, most embarrassing crushes on each other, and are somehow simultaneously oblivious to it.
And so, like every other normal, rational person, Donghyuck invites everyone except you and Mark to lunch to discuss his findings.
“What the fuck?” Renjun’s the first one to say something, staring at Donghyuck as if he’s grown a second head.
“Look, just trust me on this-”
“Are you sure about this?” Jaemin asks, taking a large sip of his drink, and Donghyuck nods earnestly, a serious expression on his face. “A hundred percent.”
“To be fair to him, we did all think they were going to date in the first year. I guess it’s finally happening.”
“Men and women can have platonic relationships, you know. Just because you have never enjoyed female friendship in your life doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” Ryujin points out to Jeno, who rolls his eyes.
“You thought they were dating too, Shin.”
“Fine,” she acquiesces, finally turning to Donghyuck and staring him down in a way that makes the male have to consciously bite back a shiver. “What do you plan to do about it?”
“That’s why I called you guys here.”
“You want us to help you figure out how to get your two best friends together?”
“They’re your friends too!”
“I say we lock them in a room until they kiss,” Chenle says, and like clockwork, Jisung turns to him, a look of horror on his face. “You can’t do that to people!”
But Chenle’s not looking at his best friend - no, he’s looking at Donghyuck, a silent challenge in his gaze.
It’s only then that Donghyuck sits up, posture changing enough to draw the eyes of everyone at the table - Karina, Yeji, Ryujin, Jeno, Chenle, Jisung, Jaemin and Renjun.
“You know what?” he says, a mischievous smile curling at the corner of his lips. “I don’t think that’s a bad idea.”
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You’re halfway through your work when you hear a few rapid knocks at the door.
“Coming!” you shout, frowning - Mark’s out late tonight.
Until you look through the peephole, and you’re greeted by the sight of Jaemin’s face. “Oh, hey,” you say as you open the door. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m not sure, honestly. I brought them, though.” He points his arm, and you turn, eyes widening.
“He helped with directions,” Donghyuck explains, already shrugging off his shoes and letting himself into your apartment.
“What- why’s everyone here today?” You naturally move to the side as all eight of them slowly amble in, completely bewildered.
“Impromptu party. Jeno’s boss gave him some free pizza delivery vouchers,” Yeji explains, smiling sweetly at you, and despite the suddenness of it, you can’t quite say no - you do miss having them around, and you can probably catch up on your work over the weekend.
“Okay. Mark won’t be back till nine, though.” At your words, there seems to be a general sense of amusement rising from everyone else, which is only enough to confuse you further.
However, you’re grateful for their appearance. You don’t think you could last another movie night with Mark without doing something extremely, extremely stupid.
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At eight, Mark reaches his front door, only for it to be opened before he can even reach for his keys.
And instead of you, there’s Jisung, who only waves. “Hi, hyung.”
“What are you doing here?” Mark asks, until he hears the sound of commotion inside - there’s music playing, and Donghyuck trying to explain something loudly before your laughter cuts through.
“Jeno bought all of us pizza. You should be hungry,” Jisung says, smiling, and Mark only follows the younger boy inside, greeted by the sight of everyone else scattered across the living room floor.
“Mark!” Jaemin shouts excitedly, and he realises the boy is already half-drunk as he motions to the multiple pizza boxes. “Take as much as you want. Can’t finish.”
And as Mark grabs the pizza and makes his way over to where you’re seated by the couch, you smile up at him in a way that makes it impossible for him to grin back. “You’re here,” you say softly, cheeks already slightly reddened by the alcohol.
He laughs slightly. “Are you drunk already?”
You shake your head. “I only drank a little.” You pinch your fingers together for emphasis.
“Okay. Go easy on it,” he says, and you pout slightly. “Got it.”
“Since Mark’s here already, we should all play a game,” Chenle suggests, and Mark looks up, eyes widening when he sees everyone nod. “Suddenly?”
“How about truth or dare?” Ryujin asks.
“No, that’s too boring. Wait, Mark, come here,” Donghyuck says from the opposite side of the room, pushing Jisung slightly to make space for him in the middle, but Mark shakes his head.
“I’m okay here.” Besides, he wants to make sure you don’t drink as much.
“Just come here. Yeji has something she needs to tell Y/N.” At that, Mark turns to the black-haired girl, a suspicious glance in his eyes.
“Oh yeah, totally,” she says, grinning back, and motions for Mark to move. “Girls only, Mark. I know you’re Y/N’s best friend, but some exceptions can’t be made.”
Everyone’s waiting, which means Mark eventually rises from where he’s standing. “Okay. Make sure she doesn’t drink too much, okay?” he asks, and she nods.
When Mark’s finally cross-legged on the floor, Donghyuck clasps his hands together, a grin on his face. “Let’s do seven minutes in heaven. Jeno, spin that bottle.”
Mark turns to his best friend, nudging him. “What are we, in high school?”
“We’re not, which is why I wanna play this. Also, everyone here at least knows each other. so it’s more fun.”
There’s silence in the room as the soju bottle spins in slow rounds, before it finally drifts to a stop - one that has Donghyuck giggling and Ryujin’s cheeks reddening.
“Ryujin and Yeji. First room on the right, now,” he instructs, and the two girls rise, disappearing down the hallway and already lost in their own conversation.
“Next one. I wanna spin this,” Chenle says, exchanging an odd, knowing sort of look with Hyuck, who only motions for him to go ahead.
Mark’s honestly only half-focused on the game, more worried about he’s going to clean up later and whether any of them will be staying over. Eventually, however, his gaze drifts to the floor, watching as the bottle comes to a perfect stop.
Facing you directly.
Yeji’s gone and you’re the only one sitting on the right side of the couch, which makes you the obvious choice.
The other side is a little more ambiguous, however. It’s between him and Hyuck, who looks a little too excited. “Well, so who’s going to go with me?” you ask, and everyone else seems to be unsure of what to say.
“I mean, I don’t mind,” Donghyuck says teasingly, winking at you in a way that makes Mark stiffen.
There’s no way Hyuck likes you, right? That all this was just some sort of grand, elaborated scheme to get closer to you-
You fell for her too, idiot, his mind immediately rattles off, and it’s enough for Mark to stand up, immediately clearing his throat. “I’ll go. The empty room left is mine anyways.”
He misses the way his best friend smiles triumphantly at Chenle, immediately moving closer to you as you stand up. “Seven minutes, right?” you ask, and Hyuck nods. “No more, no less.”
Mark’s not sure why he’s strangely nervous as he follows you into the room, considering he’s pretty sure that nothing will happen anyways. After all, the both of you practically live together, and he’s no stranger to spending time alone with you.
Though, in the wake of his new feelings, even simple interactions feel difficult.
And as you lie down on the side of his bed, legs dangling off the edge, Mark regrets his decision just a little. Until you lift your head up.
“Why are you standing there? Come here.” You pat the empty space next to you, and as if pulled by some mysterious force, he gravitates towards you, hesitantly sitting next to your knees and slowly lying down next to you.
“I wonder what Hyuck would say if he found us like this,” you say, and despite himself, Mark laughs. “We would get scolded.”
“He’d probably ask us to do something, at least.”
Mark’s cheeks redden as he wonders what exactly you mean by something, and he’s not sure if your straightforwardness is partly due to the alcohol. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Kiss, probably.”
He sucks in a breath, turning to you. But your profile remains sideways, eyes fixed on the ceiling. And he’s not sure where he finds the words, but Mark’s voice is strained the next time he speaks, tight with desire and fear.
“Do you- do you want to?”
You turn to him, pretty irises deep enough for Mark to willingly, gladly drown in.
God, you’re gorgeous. He’s so painfully in love with you that it almost hurts to breathe, little pinpricks of affection stabbing at what space remaining in his heart that’s still left untaken by you.
“I wouldn’t mind, I think,” you murmur, blinking sleepily at him as you shuffle a little bit closer, until your head’s resting against his chest, and Mark wonders if you can hear his heartbeat going faster than it ever has.
You wouldn’t mind kissing him. It’s not a direct expression of want, but if you’re amenable to the idea, that’s already more than he could ever expect.
You’re so close, and you smell so good, like that vanilla and cinnamon shampoo that you always use, and if he just tilted your head a little higher - he would have everything that he’s dreaming of.
But you’re drunk, and he’s not entirely sober either, which means bad decisions are likely to be made. When Mark kisses you, he wants it to be when both of you are fully awake, so he can remember every single moment of it.
And the feeling of you resting against him, eyes closed and breathing even, isn’t so bad either - it’s sweet, providing him with the knowledge that you feel safe enough to be your most vulnerable around him, because Mark just wants to protect you and love you in all the ways that he can. If you’ll let him.
And that’s how Donghyuck finds him when he cracks open the bedroom door, Mark immediately bringing a finger to his lips to keep his volume down.
“Um, I’ll tell everyone to clean up and leave. You can stay with Y/N,” Hyuck murmurs, and Mark’s grateful for the sensibility that his best friend does have, after all.
It’s about twenty minutes later that he finally hears the front door swing shut, and the house finally falls into some much-needed silence.
“Y/N,” he whispers softly, hoping to wake you up without startling you. “Darling, you’ll be uncomfortable if you sleep like this.”
He’s not sure where the pet name slips out from, but it comes out surprisingly easily. And while Mark would be perfectly happy to stay in this position, it’s likely going to give you a poor neck tomorrow.
Thankfully, you seem to hear him, mumbling something incoherent as you slowly sit up, still drowsy as he leads you to the bed. You find the pillow quickly, and he breathes out a sigh of relief when you seem to sink back into your slumber.
“Good night, Y/N,” he mumbles tenderly, a hand brushing over your forehead.
And when he finally lies down on the other side, blanket thrown over the both of you, Mark wills sleep to find him quickly. There’s too much on his mind tonight.
At some point, however, you shift, turning your body to face him and making his breathing hitch.
You’re always so damn close.
And then you say something again under your breath, soft enough for Mark to have to lean closer until your lips are right by his ear.
“Y/N? Do you need something?” It’s obvious you’re still asleep, maybe stuck in a dream of sorts as you furrow your eyebrows.
When you speak next, however, it’s loud enough for Mark to hear every syllable.
“You don’t want to kiss me,” you breathe out, an expression of distress making its way onto your features. “Why not?” Your lips soften into a pout that makes his heart seize, and Mark’s eyes widen.
Are you talking about him? From earlier?
He’s frozen now, fingers ghosting over your waist as he wonders how to react.
Eventually, Mark allows himself to press a tender kiss to your forehead, smoothing out the slight furrow there as he brushes his thumb over your cheek.
The bed, even the entire room, suddenly feels a little too small, and a little too warm as Mark keeps looking at you, wondering exactly what this means for him, you, and your friendship.
If everything he’s ever wanted is a mistake, and whether you’d make it with him. Because he doesn’t think any mistake should feel this right.
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When you wake up the next morning, you can’t exactly distinguish between what was part of your dream, and what was actually a hazy recollection.
And neither is Mark present to confirm your doubts. It’s like he’s disappeared off the face of the earth - well, probably just the campus.
Still, when you see an empty bed, the sheets on the side flat and crinkled, there’s a yearning in your heart that you can’t quite place. You swing your feet over the edge, your head still vaguely throbbing from the alcohol as you try to distinguish reality from your own eager imagination.
You like Mark. That much is easy enough to figure out, if the way you clung to him last night was any indication. You faintly remember him persuading you to go to bed, and tugging a sweater over your shirt.
And then you had turned over - heart racing in your chest as you voluntarily moved closer to him, seeking his warmth and relaxing when he didn’t pull away.
His bed smelled a lot like him, all fresh cotton and fabric softener. A familiar scent that you had grown used to over the years, from stealing his jackets to hugging him whenever he pulled you close, your head nestled into the crook of his shoulder.
You’re conflicted as you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, fingers curling into the material of the sweater as if it’ll make up for the owner’s absence.
Maybe he liked you. Maybe he didn’t. You would get some answers once he came back, at least.
Unfortunately, you’re in the middle of brushing your teeth when you hear the front door unlock, and you suppose the universe has other plans for you as you shuffle out into the living room.
And as if you still needed the reminder, your pulse speeds up at the sight of Mark in his hoodie and black glasses, plates already in his hands as he places them on the table. “Hey, um, I got breakfast. Figured you’d be hungry,” he explains.
You’re just staring at him, lingering in the hallway long enough for Mark to scratch the back of his head awkwardly. “Hey, if you don’t feel like eating-”
“I do.” It comes out panicked as you rush over, taking the cutlery from him and the first pastry you see. “Thanks, Mark.”
“No problem,” he says, still smiling at you as you take your first bite, occasionally meeting his eyes before your gaze darts away again.
God, this is awkward. You haven’t been this awkward with him since- well, ever. Even eighteen-year-old you had no problem making conversation with him, but now you’re completely silent as the both of you share a meal.
You’re in the middle of counting the number of cross-stitches in the tablecloth when he finally speaks.
“How’s your head feeling?”
“It’s okay.”
“Donghyuck and the others left pretty early yesterday.”
“Yeah.”
“They cleaned up, though.”
“That’s good.”
You can almost sense the frustration radiating off Mark at your replies, but you’re not sure what else to say to him.
Or more that you’re scared of what will come out if you do let yourself speak.
“Y/N,” he murmurs, noticeably more serious now, and you gulp.
“Mark.”
“Can we talk about yesterday?” he asks, gently, and you lift your head sharply, fork frozen in midair.
“What- what happened yesterday?”
“You don’t remember?”
“I-” you cut yourself off halfway, cheeks turning scarlet as you duck your head down to look at your own lap.
It’s as much of a guilty admission that he needs, even as you attempt to get yourself out of the situation by standing up and pushing your chair behind you. “I’m done with my breakfast. I’ll go get ready.”
“You’re going out?”
“I told Ryujin that I would meet her for lunch,” you lie, though you wince the moment it leaves your mouth.
For one, it’s ten in the morning, and Ryujin’s probably just as hungover as you.
You barely put your plate down in the sink before you hear Mark get up as well, and you turn your head away, cursing silently under your breath. It’s times like this when you wish your apartment was bigger, that Mark couldn’t be capable of finding you in less than two minutes.
He doesn’t say anything, almost hovering as he clears his plate away too, and places the rest of the pastries in the fridge.
You can’t help but notice that they’re all your favourites, the kind of snacks that you always tell him you crave but never have conveniently at home.
The moment you’re done washing the dishes, however, you quickly dry your hands, making a beeline out of the kitchen area. If you just manage to get to your room, you’ll at least be able to avoid him for a while longer.
And for a few moments, you think that Mark will let you go and leave the events of last night aside for now.
In fact, you almost make it past him and the kitchen island, before he grabs onto your wrist and yanks you back.
“What-” You tilt your head up sharply in shock, freezing when you realize exactly how close the both of you are. The tip of his nose is barely centimetres away from yours, and your lack of balance has you almost leaning fully into him, the weight of your body pressed up against his.
You’re still reeling from it as you blink up at him, finding a way to get your senses back around you, even as your brain fills with empty thoughts about how he looks good up close like this, or how his lashes frame his features perfectly.
It’s a dangerous situation. One that you need to get out of immediately.
“Mark-” you start, his name coming out breathy and stilted, but the boy remains silent, lips set into a firm line as he continues looking at you, or past you, as if he's thinking of something else entirely. “Let me go?”
You move your wrist for emphasis, but in response, his grip only tightens.
“No,” he murmurs, in a way that makes butterflies flutter in your stomach.
“But-”
You’re cut off soon enough when he moves even closer, the distance between the both of you disappearing.
Because instead of releasing your hand, Mark only wraps his other arm around your waist to yank you closer before he plants his lips firmly on yours.
And then he’s kissing you.
Mark Lee, your best friend and roommate of four years, is kissing you in your shared apartment at ten in the morning, and you can’t help but feel like this is how it’s always meant to have been.
And as you feel yourself melting into his hold, that same scent of fresh cotton enveloping you, he pulls away. Kissing shouldn’t feel this good, but with him, you think the seconds could easily elapse into hours.
You’re almost tempted to pull him by the collar back to you, but something in his eyes curbs that impulse of yours.
His hand is still resting on your waist, ghosting over the patch of bare skin between your sweatpants and top in a way that makes you shiver.
“You asked me why I didn’t want to kiss you yesterday,” he breathes out. “Does this make up for it?”
So that wasn’t a dream, at least.
You scramble to find a way to reply, still a little too distracted by the way his lips are the perfect shade of pink, the phantom feeling of them quickly fading from your memory. “I- I think so.”
He smiles at that. “You think?”
“I could do with a refresher.” The sudden confidence that enters your voice is just as surprising to you as it is to Mark himself, but he recovers faster. The hand that was previously around your wrist snakes its way up to your chin, tilting your face upwards. “Yeah?”
You nod, deciding that you’re already too far gone- you might as well get something out of it.
Like the feeling of Mark’s lips against yours when he kisses you again, smiling against you in a way that makes your heart expand in the most delightful way.
When he nips at your bottom lip playfully, you let out a soft giggle, ducking your head away from his as he moves towards your cheek, and then your neck, leaving a trail of feather-soft kisses in his wake.
“That feels nice,” you sigh out, feeling him smirk against where he’s nestled at the juncture of your shoulder and neck. “Just nice?”
“Very nice. Happy now?” You tap his shoulders to get him to raise his head, Mark’s hands instinctively finding your waist.
He hums. “I suppose. What does this make us?”
And as much as he tries to pass it off nonchalantly, you hear the way his voice tapers off into doubt.
That he’s had the same fear as you for a while now, but also the exact same dream.
“Do you like me?” you ask, and Mark swipes his tongue over his lips, chuckling softly. “I thought that much was obvious.”
“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing that I like you too.” You fiddle with the drawstrings of his hoodie as Mark’s eyes widen. To his credit, he looks surprised, but it only makes you laugh. “You seriously think I would kiss you if I didn’t like you?”
“Well, I wasn’t sure-” his words halt when you tiptoe to press a kiss on his cheek.
“I like you, Mark Lee. Even if you can’t cook eggs and always mess up my laundry. And I know you’re already my best friend and roommate, but will you be willing to take up another title now?”
“What title?’ he asks, blinking confusedly at you, and you only grin. “My boyfriend,” you whisper into his ear, pulling back to see that familiar shade of red making its way onto his cheeks.
Eventually, he nods. “Yeah. Okay. I can do that.”
But you only frown. “You took so long to reply. I’m starting to think you don’t want it anymore.”
Mark only rolls his eyes, arms tightening their hug around your waist.
“Too bad. There’s no getting rid of me now.”
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Funnily enough, the hardest part of being in a relationship with Mark was figuring out how to tell everyone else without being made the subject of their endless teasing for the next foreseeable few months.
Especially Donghyuck. Both you and Mark agreed that the chestnut-haired boy would be the last to find out.
Everything else was the same. The both of you always ate together, Mark often picking you up after lessons with a take-out bag already in his hands.
Except that he was now yours to kiss and hold, which was a new privilege you gladly took advantage of, especially on occasions like this.
“I say we let them find out on their own. It’s worse if we tell them directly, like it’s some sort of big announcement,” you say, fingers absentmindedly carding their way through Mark’s hair as he hugs you close to him. You’re leaning against the couch, legs thrown over his as you rest on his lap sideways.
He only raises a bemused eyebrow. “You don’t think our relationship is a big thing?”
“We both know that’s not what I mean,” you mutter, swatting his shoulder. “I just think they’ve known us as best friends for so long, that it’ll be weird to just suddenly drop this out of nowhere.”
“I get it. We can tell them whenever you want.”
The current position you’re in is more than comfortable, and you find yourself growing drowsy as he peppers kisses along your cheek and your shoulder.
“But, Y/N-” he starts, and despite your sudden onset of drowsiness, you make a little noise of assent. it’s enough for Mark to hug you tighter to him, before continuing.
“You know you’re still my best friend no matter what, right? This-” he gestures to the both of you, smiling gently, “doesn’t change anything.”
His words hit you harder than you want to let on, and you try not to make your emotions too plain your face as you lean against his shoulder, feeling his heart beat gently against his chest.
However, your words still come out slightly choked. “Yeah, I know.”
“I’m quite lucky, don’t you think? A best friend and a girlfriend in the same person.”
“Donghyuck won’t be happy to hear that,” you mutter, and you feel the vibrations of Mark’s chest as he laughs, a loud one that you know is genuine. The very sound itself is enough to make you smile.
“Thank God he’s not here, then.”
“I am, actually.”
The voice that materializes from the hallway is enough to make you jump and almost fall off Mark’s lap, right as he catches you. You scramble to get off his lap, hands moving to your lap as Donghyuck walks into the living room, arms crossed.
“How the fuck did you get in?” you ask, and Donghyuck lifts his hand up, a glint of metal twirled in his fingers. “Spare key. Mark showed me once when he was drunk off his ass.”
“And you didn’t knock?”
“I did. Many times, actually. You two lovebirds just tuned it all out. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“For one, this is a private apartment.”
“I mean, if the both of you were having sex, I’d probably hear it first and show myself out,” he shoots back nonchalantly, and your eyes widen at the same time that Mark lets out an embarrassed cough, which only makes Donghyuck let out a surprised laugh.
“Haven’t gotten there yet, huh?” He’s smirking now, looking at the both of you beneath his eyelashes in a way that makes you want to throttle him.
“Let’s- let’s talk about something else,” you mutter, and Donghyuck shrugs. “Sure. I came here to tell you guys that we’ve settled everything for the winter break trip. We leave in four days, once semester ends.”
“You came all the way here just for that?” you ask suspiciously, and the boy smiles as if he’s been caught.
“Um, I haven’t had lunch. Also, I don’t have any beach shorts, and Mark has a few he can lend.”
You nod, before narrowing your eyes. “You’re not going to tell the rest, right?”
“Not yet. But only because I want to see their reactions when I do,” Donghyuck replies, and you huff under your breath. It’s good enough for now.
“Then sit down. And help me prep the ingredients for lunch.” At your words, Donghyuck immediately straightens into a mock salute. “Got it.”
The gesture makes you laugh slightly as you go to the fridge, setting out everything on the counter. But Donghyuck seems to be deep in thought, almost orbiting around you.
After a while, however, he eventually opens his mouth, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.
“…So you guys really haven’t fucked?”
“Shut it, Donghyuck.”
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“I didn’t even mean to kiss him!” Yeji shouts, sitting up in her chair to defend herself. “The alcohol made him seem a lot more good-looking than he actually was.”
Karina only laughs behind her cup. “You just have shit taste in men.”
“Which is why I have a girlfriend now,” she says, grinning widely as she grabs Ryujin’s hand. The latter only rolls her eyes.
The eleven of you are gathered around a campfire, blankets bundled over your laps as you take turns dangling marshmallows over the fire. You can’t even remember whose idea it was to come down to the coast to escape winter for a few weeks, but as the sea breeze blows through your hair, you’re grateful for it.
“This is nice,” Chenle says, resting his feet on a stool as he leans back, sunglasses over his eyes.
“Says the one who refused to leave the house at first,” Donghyuck snides, earning an elbow in the side.
“Can the both of you just stop bickering for one second?” Jaemin says from across the circle, exasperated. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Well, if you want to hear about more idiots that Yeji has kissed while drunk-” Karina’s offer is cut off by the aforementioned girl kicking her in the shin, cheeks bright with mortification.
“I’m one of those idiots, unfortunately,” Ryujin shoots back, earning huffs of amusement from everyone as she defends her girlfriend.
“Speaking of that…” Karina trails off, gaze drifting to you and Mark in a way that makes you shift nervously, eyes darting away from hers as you laugh nervously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
She leans back, a sly glint in her eyes as she scrutinizes every minute shift of your features. “You were the second couple that night to go in. Did anything happen?”
Everyone else is paying attention now, even as they try to hide it.
Your eyes go to Donghyuck for a second, who only has a shit-eating grin on his face. From his expression, you can tell the man is practically jumping out of his seat at the prospect of being the one to reveal your newly-formed relationship with Mark.
Which means you have to beat him first.
“Yeah. We’re dating now,” you mutter, hiding your grin with a sip of your hot chocolate as the entire group turns silent. Even Mark looks at you, surprised, but his face quickly transforms into one of smug happiness as he grabs your hand, fingers interlacing with yours. “We are,” he confirms, and Karina’s eyes widen beyond what you thought possible.
“Whoa. Whoa. Hold on- when did this happen?”
“The morning after,” you supplicate, and she rests her forehead on her hands as she blinks.
“Good to know the both of you had it in you,” Chenle says, smiling at you in a way that’s equal parts teasing and sweet. “By the way, you should probably give credit to Hyuck. He was the first to notice, you know.”
“Really?”
“Wasn’t difficult when the both of you were staring at each other like lovestruck idiots,” he says, and you roll your eyes. You suppose you owe the man a word of thanks, eventually. Just not right now.
“I’m happy for you guys.” Jaemin, the sweetest of your group, smiles widely at the both of you, and Mark pats him on the back in a sign of affection. “Really. It was a long time coming.”
“I guess it was, huh?” Mark says, turning towards you with a contemplative sort of joy on his features. Despite the dim lighting, it’s almost as if there’s stars in his eyes as he looks at you, hand still tightly holding on to yours.
“God, couples make me sick,” Donghyuck mutters, earning a glare from you and Yeji. “You can leave, then,” you shoot back, pressing a kiss to Mark’s cheek in a sign of defiance.
“You bet I will-”
“Speaking of that,” Jaemin, always the mediator, cuts Donghyuck off. “It’s late. We should probably head back to the cabins.”
“Sounds good to me,” Karina says, standing up and folding her blanket over her chair. “God, it’s cold.”
“You cold?” Mark asks, and you shake your head, only zipping up your jacket as all of you make the slow trek back to your cabins at the end of the beach. Thanks to the off-season, you and Mark are sharing one, while Yeji, Ryujin and Karina take the larger house, with the other villas split between the six guys.
Eventually, you reach the doorstep of your cabin, waving farewell to the rest as they shrug off their shoes and unlock the doors. “Goodnight!” Yeji shouts, and you grin widely as you wave at her, the wind whipping your hair around your face.
Thankfully, the inside of the cabin offers a respite from the cold, and you find yourself quickly moving towards the woollen blanket on the couch. “Tired?” Mark asks, leaning against the armrest to face you directly, and you shake your head, eyes still bright. “Not at all. I think being on holiday keeps me awake.”
“Wanna watch a movie, then?” he asks, and you nod eagerly, stretching your arms out to pull him towards you.
“Come here,” you urge, making him stretch out his legs on the couch before you lie against him, legs tangled with his and back comfortably resting against his chest.
“Someone’s clingy today,” he points out, bemused.
“I haven’t gotten to be with you alone since we left for the trip yesterday. Let a girl have what she wants.”
At your words, he nods, lips curving up as his arms settle around your waist, a kiss pressed to your hairline. “I can do that for my girl.”
“My girl?” you ask, and he nods. “You’ve always been my girl. Even if you didn’t know it then.”
“I guess I like it. You can keep calling me that,” you reply, and he nips at your ear. “You looked good tonight, by the way,” you tell him, turning around momentarily to face him.
He’s wearing a fleece jacket over one of his graphic tees, somehow still choosing to wear ripped jeans despite the cold weather.
“I would say that back to you, but I’m guessing you already know,” he says, and you duck your head down, giggling softly.
“I suppose you also know that I love you. In case that wasn’t obvious enough,” he adds after a while, as if not quite sure what you’ll make of it. But you’re quick to nod.
“I love you too, Mark Lee. You’re everything to me.”
You’ve never meant anything more, and he seems to be a little starstruck as he looks at you, an utter look of adoration in his eyes. “How did I get so damn lucky?” he asks softly, and it’s enough to knock the breath out of your chest as your heart carves out even more space for him.
It’s only when Mark tilts your chin up that you go silent, eyes widening slightly. He’s staring directly at you, until he isn’t.
Because his gaze drops down to your lips, his thumb coming up to brush the corner in a way that makes you freeze.
“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs, and the question is so sweet, so earnest, that it makes you smile.
“You never have to ask,” you reply, and your boyfriend doesn’t hesitate before he’s pulling you mouth towards his and closing whatever little distance there is left.
Kissing Mark feels like sinking into a soft pillow after a long day, something that’s all too easy for you to melt into as you thread your fingers through the black strands at the nape of his neck. It’s surprisingly easy to do, the both of you moving naturally as if you’ve been doing this forever.
And when you find your kisses travelling down towards his neck, you take note of each soft exhale that he lets out, grip occasionally tightening around your waist.
Your hands are travelling too, going past his neck to his arms, and then ghosting down his sides, before you eventually find yourself preferring to fidget with the torn threads and rips in his jeans, occasionally tracing little shapes over the exposed skin of his thigh.
“You- you really should stop doing that,” he forces out after a while, the tension in his voice making you smile.
“Are you sure?” you ask, looking up for a second to take in the conflict evident in his features. “N-no. But it feels good.”
His tone is almost whiny, the little note of desperation in it making pleasurable heat curl in your stomach. “That was the goal, I think,” you shoot back sarcastically, and he laughs darkly, toying with the zipper at the side of your skirt.
You see the change as it happens, his eyes dimming just imperceptibly as something in it changes, a newfound determination in him as he presses one last bruising kiss to your lips.
“Don’t get snarky with me now. We still have the entire night, you know,” he reminds, and you find yourself quickly swelling with an unfamiliar sort of excitement, tinted with an almost delectable sort of fear as he pulls you even closer, fingertip tracing down the side of your face.
“And we have this entire place to ourselves, so what are you planning?” you ask, arching an eyebrow curiously, which causes Mark to smile teasingly. This side of him is so unfamiliar to you, and yet you love every moment of it as your pulse races, blood and adrenaline rushing through your veins in equal measure.
“You’ll find out soon enough, baby.”
This time, when he guides your mouth to his, you gladly let him steal your oxygen.
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tonicandjins · 1 year
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learning languages | lee donghyuck
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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! ^^ Please also consider tipping me if you want to! NCT Dream is coming to my country this April and I’d love to see them if I could :) TIP ME HERE.
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. 
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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 Huang Renjun and Na Jaemin were Mark’s friends from childhood, the others are friends by extension.
Huang 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 other, 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.”
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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.
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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.
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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.”
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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.”
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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.”
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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.”
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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.
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 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.
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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.”
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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