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Han's kisses are a health hazardβ¦ yet youβre addicted.
This was his fault. He was the desperate one.
Was.
Always stealing kisses whenever he passed you, always leaning in just because he could, always pressing his mouth to yours like it was a reflex. Like affection was something he couldnβt help but give away, smiling into it like it was a habit.
Somewhere along the way, it stuck.
Now the absence of it itched. The memory lingered on your lips long after the last one ended, like your body had learned something your brain hadnβt agreed to yet. Like heβd trained you without meaning to β soft lips, familiar pressure, over and over β until wanting it felt automatic.
Addiction, disguised as affection.
And there he was, sitting on his chair, headphones on, pen tapping against his notebook while a beat looped softly from his phone. Completely in his zone. Concentrated. Focused.Β
Not kissing you.Β
Unacceptable.
You reached over and paused his track.
Han looked up immediately, blinking. βHey Babββ
βKiss.β
No preamble. No negotiation.
He smiled, soft and easy, like youβd asked for something obvious. βOkay.β
He leaned up and pressed a quick, polite peck to your lips. Sweet. Respectful. Over before your brain had even caught up. He leaned back again, already satisfied, already halfway returning to his notebook.
You stared at him.
βThatβs it?β you said.
Han turned back to his desk, grinning like he was proud of himself. βWhat? It was cute.β
βThat was a notification kiss. I want a real one.β
He laughed under his breath, pushed his headphones down around his neck and rolled his chair closer. This time, he leaned in properly. His hand came up automatically, cupping your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek like he needed the contact to stay grounded. He paused just long enough for you to feel his breath against your lips before he closed the last inch of space.
The kiss started gentle. Normal. Sweet. Safe.
His mouth met yours slowly, deliberately, lips fitting against yours like it was something he already knew by heart. Not rushed. Not hesitant either.
You smiled into it.
Big mistake.
Because it always went like this: soft and sweetβ¦ until some invisible switch flipped. His focus tunneled. The kiss deepened without him seeming to even realize. His breathing stayed perfectly steady β unfairly steady β while yours started to disappear entirely.
Han kissed like he performed: fully committed, zero brakes and just slightly competitive. What started soft deepened fast, his focus narrowing until the rest of the world clearly stopped existing. The notebook, the lyrics, the studio. Gone.
Just you, him and the way his lips moved against yours.
The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing yours softly β enough to make your fingers curl in his hoodieΒ and draw a quiet, approving sound from him against your mouth, like youβd just hit the correct note.
You tried to keep up. Tried to match him. But the same breath control he used for rapid rap verses was now apparently repurposed for maximum kissing efficiency.
Halfway through, your lungs submitted their first formal complaint about oxygen.
You ignored it.
Then they filed another one.
You squeezed his sleeve once.
He didnβt notice. Didnβt pull back. Didnβt seem to need air at all
You nudged his shoulder.
Nothing.
You nudged his shoulder again.
Still nothing.
You tried to pull back a little.Β
But he only followed like some kind of a magnetic pull forced him to. Still kissing you. Still not breathing like a normal human being. The man had the lungs of a marathon runner and the determination of someone trying to win Olympic gold in kissing.
You finally thumped his shoulder twice and pushed away, sucking in air like youβd just resurfaced from deep water.
Han blinked at you, stunned and dazed. Then immediately pouted.
ββ¦whyβd you stop?β he asks, genuinely confused, lips still a little swollen and hair a mess.
You stared at him, still catching your breath. βWhy did I stop? Broβdo you even breathe??β
His pout dropped into scandalized betrayal. βBro?! I was being romantic and you call me bro?! YOU demanded a real kiss!β
βI wanted a kiss,β you shot back, βnot a near-death experience.β
Han laughed, full volume, absolutely thriving. βI was holding back, by the way.β
βHolding back? I just saw my ancestors!"
βSkill issue.β He sat up straighter, offended but also pleased with himself. βThat just means Iβm a great kisser.β
βYou are,β you admitted immediately. βAnd youβre also a health hazard.β
His grin turned shameless. βThat sounds like a compliment.β
βIt is not.β
βIt is,β he said lightly. βYouβre just mad I literally took your breath away.β
βShow-off.βΒ
You stepped back into his space, grabbed his hoodie strings and tugged him forward until his knees bumped yours. βDo it again.β
Han paused, searching your face. βYou sure?β he asked, amused. βYou just accused me of attempted murder.β
You shrugged, already smiling. βThere are worse ways to go.β
His grin widened, slow and dangerous. βThatβs a wild thing to say.β
βBut not incorrect.β
His smile softened β not smug now, just warm β and his lips met yours again, slow and deliberate. The familiar softness pressed against your mouth, fitting like it always did.
the sunshine twins are just trying to make truman 2.0 but unfortunately, jisung's itching curiosity about seungminβs girlfriend makes them derail entirely.
MINORS DNI!
wc: 1.8k
a/n: i had so much fun with this! itβs a little different from what i usually do <33 hope you enjoy! again, this is strictly 18+
βfelix? are these crackers yours or seungminβs?βΒ
jisungβs voice rings out from the kitchen, slightly drowned out under the violent crinkle of a bag. heβs supposedly cutting snacks while on a diet, but lately heβs cheating so often it barely counts. who can blame him if heβs noticeably happier?Β
but if the crackers belong to seungmin, heβd put them back immediately and wouldnβt touch them again with a ten-foot pole. if even one went missing in the bag, seungmin would somehow know. jisung shivered at the thought.
βtheyβre mine,β felix calls from the living room, eyes still glued to his laptop. βyou can bring them over.β
jisung sighs in relief and happily wanders in. he drops onto the couch and swings one leg over the armrest, crackers balanced precariously on his thigh. βwhat were we doing last time?β
felix closes his laptop shut before diverting his attention to jisung, βredoing the second verse. you said it was dog crap.β
βright, right.β jisung leans closer, reaching for the notebook on the coffee table. βlet me see.β
he skims the page and grimaces instantly. he definitely wrote this drunk because he vaguely remembers thinking the rhyming went hard.Β
unfortunately, jisung also knows at least seventy percent of this session is going to be spent talking shit and staring at videos of buff men before anything remotely productive happens. explaining the latter to chan last time was an awkward conversation.Β
jisung paused. βwhere the hell is he, by the way?β
felix furrows his eyebrows. βwho?β
βseungmin.β another cracker disappeared into jisungβs mouth. βis he out, right now? usually he sits out here on this phone or something.βΒ
βheβs in his room. his girlfriendβs over.β
jisung freezes mid-chew, staring at felix.
one eyebrow slowly creeps up.
felix added, βhe said he didnβt wanna bother us while we were working.β
his eyes stay on the lyrics in front of him, but his brain very much does not.
βyou know,β he says, voice dropping in case seungmin could hear him through the closed door down the short hallway, βi havenβt even met her yet.β
felix snorts, taking the notebook out of jisung's hands. βyeah. that checks out.β
jisung watches felix skim over the lyrics theyβve scribbled down, his eyebrows knitting together. felix is clearly trying not to get derailed. jisung, on the other hand, is already gone.
jisung sits up straighter, his voice jumping up an octave. βlook, itβs not even like i want to pry! i just want proof she exists. seungminβs not above claiming he has a girlfriend just to get out of hanging out with us.β
jisung quickly looked around realising he mustβve been much louder than he shouldβve been. seungmin did have ears like a hawk.Β
βi donβt even know what she looks like,β jisung adds, quieter now. βsometimes i fully think he made her up.β
felix sighs and leans back, staring up at the ceiling for a second. funnily enough, he canβt even blame jisung for thinking this way.
βi assume youβve seen her,β jisung adds. βconsidering sheβs literally in your house.β
βyeah.β felix looks back down. βi have.β
βand?β jisung presses, scooting closer on the couch. βwhatβs the vibe.β
βsheβs pretty,β felix continues, struggling a little to describe someone he hasnβt seen much. βsmiles a lot. iβve tried saying hi before.β
jisung perks up immediately. βbut?β
βshe looks like she wants to say hi back,β felix says. βbut then seungmin always swoops in before any of us can get a word out.β
jisungβs mouth gapes as he stares down.
βdo you think heβs just ashamed of us?β
felix doesnβt even hesitate. βoh, absolutely.β
βthatβs so rude.β jisung says, βiβm great with people.β
felix raises an eyebrow.
βi can be nice,β jisung insists angrily, shoving another cracker into his mouth. βand i would try for her! i love seungmin, itβs not like i wanna embarrass him!β
βyeah, but you know how he is,β felix says, leaning back with a sigh.Β
they both look at the seungminβs bedroom door in silence.
βletβs get back to work,β felix says, already glancing toward the hallway. βtheyβre gonna hear us talking about them.β
jisung huffs but grabs a pen anyway, slouching back into the couch. he leans over so theyβre both looking at the notebook, the same page full of half-baked rhymes.
they stare at it.
felix squints. βthis line still sucks.β
βyeah,β jisung mutters, scratching it off with the pen. βi hate it.β
another beat passes.Β
ββ¦what do you even think theyβre doing in there?β jisung whispers.
felix exhales through his nose and drags a hand over his face.
βiβm just saying,β jisung continues, clearly not stopping. βare they even talking to each other right now?β
felix flips the notebook closed a little harder than necessary. βi swear, you cannot focus for five minutes.β
βyeah, i can,β jisung fires back immediately. βyou should see me with chan and changbin. laser focused. maybe youβre the problem.β
βno, iβm not. itβs the fact that iβm roommates with the one guy in our band who has a girlfriend right now. and youβre just fucking nosy.β
βyes, iβm nosy,β jisung says without shame. βof course iβm nosy. i mean,β he adds, lowering his voice, βout of all of us, kim seungmin?β
felix lets out a laugh despite himself. heβs fully aware that heβs about to become the problem, because unfortunately, he's just as interested as jisung at this point.
βto answer your question,β felix says, rubbing his temple, βi donβt know what theyβre doing in there. i donβt know what they do half the time.β
jisung perks up immediately.
βbut i came home once,β felix continues, βand they were on the couch. right where we are.β
βoh?β jisungβs eyebrows wiggle, a slow and devilish grin spreading across his face.
felix immediately holds up a hand. βthey were watching some historical romance drama. like swords and people dying in hanbok. and youβd think maybe,β felix goes on, βnetflix and chill. right?β
jisung nods eagerly.
βbut no,β felix says. βi walk in and his hand is behind her. on the backrest. not even touching her.β
jisungβs smile drops instantly.
βwhere the hell are we,β jisung sputters, looking genuinely offended, βthe 1800s?!β
felix shrugs. βhey, maybe the show got to him. put him in a whole mindset. like touching a woman is suddenly frowned upon or something.β
jisung stares at the wall.
βanyway, for all i know, heβs never had sex with her.β felix waves a hand like heβs already done thinking about it. βiβm usually good at guessing that stuff. if you canβt picture them doing it, they havenβt done it.β
βshe probably hasnβt even seen him naked.β jisung mutters under his breath.
felix snorts. βhell, even i barely see him naked. he goes into the bathroom fully clothed and comes out the same after a shower. meanwhile, iβm out here trying to remember where i put my fucking boxers.β
jisung nods aggressively in agreement, βwhen we were all living together, i swear i saw chanβs dick swinging around more than i saw seungminβs wrist.β
felix grimaces immediately. βgod, thatβs disturbing.β
jisung says, βiβm just saying, comparatively, seungminβs basically a myth.β
felix shakes his head, rubbing at his face.
ββ¦still,β jisung adds, voice softening just a little, βgood for him though. he deserves it.β
felix nods immediately. βyeah. he really does. heβs loyal and heβs the most emotionally stable out of all of us iβd say.β
βif kim seungmin loves you, youβre set for life.β
they fall quiet for a second.
then jisungβs eyes drift back down to the notebook still sitting between them, pages full of crossed-out lines.
ββ¦speaking of which,β he says slowly, tapping the paper, βwe should probably ask him about this.β
felix follows his gaze, a bit of fear on his face. βwhy would we do that.β
βbecause,β jisung says, already standing up, βheβs good at lyrics and weβre clearly stuck.β
felix sighs. βheβs ashamed of us, remember?β
jisung scoffs immediately. βi donβt believe that for a second.β
he leans down closer to felix.
βand also, i wanna meet her!β jisung whisper-yells. βif anything, this is our chance. what better excuse to pop in than work?β
felix looks unconvinced.
βhe was nice enough to give us the living room,β jisung continues. βwhoβs to say heβd be against giving us five minutes of help?β
felix squinted as he contemplated hard, weighing his options. jisung could only look at him hopefully.
βfuck it,β felix slaps his palm on his thigh. βletβs go.β
jisung lit up, launched to his feet and scurried quietly as the pair crept toward the hallway. the door to seungminβs room loomed at the end of the hall.
when they reached it, felix glanced at jisung and raised his brows. nodded once. you knock.
jisung shook his head violently. you do it. he nodded at felix.
felix exhaled, staring at the door. then, very slowly, he lifted his hand.
and froze when he heard bedsprings creak, once, then again.
felix blinked. turned to look at jisung.
jisung had already stopped breathing
a second later, they heard a feminine moan that was muffled by something. a hand, a pillow, you name it.Β
felixβs hand dropped back to his side.
then, like telepathy, they both turned on their heels and bolted silently back down the hallway, not speaking, not breathing, not thinking until theyβd reached the safety of the living room and flung themselves back onto opposite sides of the couch like theyβd just outrun death.
jisungβs face was pale. felix looked ill.
neither of them spoke for a long time. if they knew seungmin and his girlfriend were clearly... preoccupied, they wouldnβt have worried so much about being overheard.
jisung finally blinked and cleared his throat, voice barely above a whisper. βum. we should just...do this without him.β
felix nodded, once, stiff. then swallowed. βyeah, good idea.β
they both turned back to the notebook between them.
the room was then so silent they started hearing the bed squeaking again. it was only audible if you were actively focusing or standing at the door. but once you knew what to listen for you couldnβt unhear it.Β
jisung closed his eyes trying to drown out the sound.
felix groaned and dragged a hand down his face. βgod, no wonder heβs so calm all the timeβ he complains, letting his head fall back against the couch. βheβs been nutting regularly.β
another faint creak from down the hall, making felix shut his eyes as well, βi meanβ¦ it makes sense. look at him. his skin is clear, his sleep scheduleβs perfect, always composed.β
βi need that.β jisung muttered, βi just need whatever theyβre doing in there.β he gestured vaguely toward the hallway. βi need someone to do that with me. regularly with a deep emotional connection and heavenly orgasms.β
felix nodded, almost solemn. βsame. i think iβm going to explode. i havenβt been touched in weeks.β
another beat of silence passed.
and then they both slowly turned to look at each other.
their faces morphed at the same time into mirrored expressions of horror.
felix pointed at him. βdonβt look at me like that!β
βyou looked first!β
felix grabbed the nearest cushion and shoved it between them. βthis conversation is over. never again.β
βgood.β
βgood.β
βand if chan asks us why we got no work done, we'll say we lost track of time...β jisung said slowly, βwatching videos of buff men.β
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ΰ¨ΰ§ summary: you hate chan because your boyfriend hates chan, and youβre pretty sure he hates you too. so when he proposes a fake dating arrangement after you get cheated on, you accept only for the revenge plot. but that doesnβt exactly go as planned, because maybe you two never really hated each other after all.
ΰ¨ΰ§ pairing: student!bang chan x fem!student!reader
ΰ¨ΰ§ genre: college!au, enemies to lovers / fake dating, a lil fluff, a lil angst, smut MINORS DNI
ΰ¨ΰ§ word count: 20.6k
ΰ¨ΰ§ featuring: jaehyun of nct and mina & jihyo of twice
ΰ¨ΰ§ warnings: 18+, cheating (not between reader and chan), mentions of alcohol, explicit language, poor communication, some arguing, overuse of italics (sorry!), oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (pls dont do it), breast play (+ one slap !), creampie, multiple orgasms, spitting, dirty talk, teasing, pet names (baby, princess), afab reader
ΰ¨ΰ§ author's note: let's play a game of how many tropes can i fit into one fic! i did all of my college courses online so not too much on me and my unrealistic depictions plsβ¦ also obviously this is not an accurate portrayal of jaehyun, i love that man down okay!! and i got a lil lazy midway through this and rushed it to get to the smut lmao sorry!
You hated parties. You hated parties because they were loud, because spaces with that many bodies on top of each other were too suffocating, because men always tried to hit on you with boozy breath and wandering eyes.
Now you hated parties because they made your boyfriend want to stick his tongue down other girlsβ throats.
Jaehyun had managed to destroy nine months within three minutes β thatβs the length of time youβd convinced yourself youβd spent standing there, unable to avert your gaze from the horror unfolding in front of you. Three whole minutes that he hadnβt even noticed your presence, too preoccupied. Too focused on kissing this random girl like he had something to claim, as if you werenβt enough. And worst of all, he hadnβt even cared enough to bring it somewhere private. They were in a corner of the living room, tucked away but not hidden. It had only taken a little bit of squeezing between partygoers and quick apologies to make your way to them.Β
They had gathered a crowd, too. A few spectators, voices meant to be whispers β drunk people canβt seem to mind their own volume.Β
βYo, is that Y/N?βΒ
βNah, I just saw her getting a drink.βΒ
βShitβ¦sheβs gonna be so pissed.β
At least the alcohol hadnβt made them completely brainless. You were, in fact, pissed. There was the unmistakable heartbreak too, but you werenβt going to let anyone see that. Instead, you blinked back your tears and cleared your throat to make sure the words didnβt get stuck. Each step you took towards him made it more real, until you were close enough that you knew he could hear you over the raging music.
βWhat the fuck are you doing?β you hiss, far from an actual question. Your voice still broke on the last word, and you hoped he hadnβt noticed. As soon as he registers that itβs your voice, his girlfriend, Jaehyun tries to push the girl away, feigning disgust. Itβs almost pathetic in a way, his little act.Β
βShit, Y/N,β he curses. βI didnβt mean to β fuck, I didnβt mean for this to happen, I just β β
He stumbles on his words as if his mouth wasnβt working perfectly fine just seconds before. When he tries to inch towards you, you step back, refusing to allow him the comfort.Β
βYouβre fucked, Jaehyun,β you say flatly. Thatβs as much of your energy as you would give him, at least for now. Heβd embarrassed you enough by kissing another woman in the middle of a party; you decided against escalating your humiliation by shouting at him and causing a scene. You turn on your heels and begin pushing through bodies again, away from him, and you can tell heβs following. You can hear your name, barely reaching your ears but definitely there.Β
Once you make it out of the most concentrated pool of people, he staggers soon after and latches onto your wrist. The same fingertips that used to run across your skin so gently now felt like betrayal and poison.Β
βLet me go,β you snap. His grip loosens slightly, but he still holds you there, determined to defend himself.Β
βI fucked up, I know, but please just hear me out,β he begs, as if he has the right to. His excuses are the last thing you want to hear right now, and you know thatβs all they would be. Stupid excuses for a stupid βmistake,β and it makes you sick to even think about listening to him explain why and how he ended up making out with another woman in the corner of a party he asked you to go with him to.
βNo! Fuck you, seriously,β you spit, words laced with venom you prayed would hurt him even a fraction of the way he hurt you.Β
And perhaps they did, or at the very least stunned him, because he drops your arm entirely. Now, you take the final steps towards the door, reaching for the handle. He tries to follow you again, unsatisfied, unrelenting. βAnd if you follow me out this door, I promise you Iβll never speak to you again.β
That stops him in his tracks. Maybe gives him some hope that if he just lets you cool off for the night, youβll let him explain in the morning. Regardless of how he perceives it, you lunge at the opportunity to escape, finally making it out the door and into the crisp night air. It hits your skin viciously, your skirt and halter top offering little protection from its bite. Youβre cold, heartbroken, and, worst of all, not even nearly drunk enough to mask it.Β
Without the vivaciousness of the party, you can only see Jaehyun kissing her in your mind, can only hear the hushed whispers of the onlookers, replaying on a torturous loop. Youβd only made it down the steps of the house before the tears began to fall. Now you let them, assuming you were away from prying eyes.Β
Unfortunately, you hadnβt noticed someone standing right next to the door while you and Jaehyun had your little spat. A certain someone who would get far too much enjoyment out of such a scene. You had been followed once more, but this time not by your stupid cheating ex boyfriend, but by his equally as stupid βrival.β It was still a mystery to you why they hated each other, and at this point, you didnβt care at all to find out.
βThose were some harsh words,β he chuckles, and you donβt even need to turn around to recognize the voice. The same way you donβt need to turn around to know heβs smirking. You hurriedly wipe your eyes, careful not to smudge your makeup; the last thing you need is him to see you crying, another thing for him to derive sick pleasure in. You wouldnβt dare grant him that.
Because it was an unspoken relationship rule that an enemy of your partner is an enemy of your own. So, for no real reason other than the fact that Jaehyun hated him, you hated Bang Chan.Β
βFuck off, Chan,β you snarl, quickening your pace. It doesnβt matter, since he catches up to you in a few short strides. βWhy the hell did you even follow me out here?β
He steps in rhythm with you, making it clear he had no intentions of leaving. Not until he got what he wanted, whatever that may be. The satisfaction of seeing you broken? The chance to remind you how shitty Jaehyun is and how great he is? You arenβt sure, but you keep walking anyway.
βI just didnβt expect to hear you say such things to your boyfriend,β he answers. His emphasis of βboyfriendβ makes you both angry and repulsed, then bitter and devastated. Nine months of your life gone in minutes, and now you had the displeasure of dealing with Chan on top of it.
You scoff and finally stop, turning to face him for the first time. His eyes twinkle with something devious, and it infuriates you. βHeβs not my boyfriend. Not anymore.β
βOh?β he draws his head back in shock. Heβs silent for a moment, and you fold your arms across your chest, glaring at him in a way he finds cute more than intimidating. βIβm surprised you two lasted this long, actually. Figured it was about time for Jaehyun to do what he does best.β
You blink at him incredulously, his careless words cutting deep. Thereβs no reason anything he says should bother you, but thereβs something about it that stings. And Chan notices, too, watching your entire face shift from rage to sorrow. Your features soften in a way heβd never seen before β youβd only ever looked at him with hatred and annoyance β and it deflates him.Β
βI donβt know why you two donβt get along. Seems like you should be best friends β youβre both fucked up,β you retort quickly, though it comes out as a strained whisper.Β
Chan hates being grouped with him, especially in your mind where Jaehyun now seems to be synonymous with evil. He never expected to be giving you of all people an apology, but he figures he needs to. For his own consciousness, of course. Definitely not because he felt an odd pang in his chest when you looked at him with something other than disdain for once.
βOkay, okay, Iβm sorry. I shouldnβt have said all that. Are you alright?β he asks cautiously. He never thought heβd be so relieved to see someone roll their eyes, but when you do, he swears he feels ten times lighter. Your hostility he could navigate, but your sadness was uncharted territory; he was glad to be back to familiarity. And since you hadnβt walked away from him yet, he takes the chance to dig deeper. βWhat did he do?β
βLike Iβd want to talk to you about it. Just give it a few hours, youβll hear about it from someone, Iβm sure,β you shrug, trying to pretend that youβre unbothered. That you donβt care that youβll likely be the talk of campus, the woeful ex-girlfriend people will look at in that pitiful way they look at small, broken things.Β
As much as you hate Chan, youβre grateful he isnβt looking at you like youβre small or broken. Heβs looking at you the same as always, like youβre a challenge, a puzzle he hasnβt yet solved. Maybe thatβs why you decided to keep standing there, holding more of a conversation with him than youβd likely ever had before.
βProbably. But I want to hear it from you. So tell me, what happened?β he asks again.
He doesnβt say it with demand or snark. It sounds almost unsettlingly genuine. It sounds like someone that isnβt Chan, or at least the Chan youβre familiar with. You hesitate, conjuring up another smart remark, but you let it die in your throat.Β
βHe fucking cheated on me. He was making out with some girl in front of everyone. Can you believe that?β you chuckle sarcastically, forgetting who exactly is standing before you. βNevermindβ¦Iβm sure you can believe it. God, Iβm so stupid.βΒ
βNo, youβre not stupid,β he says adamantly. βHeβs stupid. An even bigger idiot than I thought, actually.β
It angers him more than it should that youβre degrading yourself over Jaehyunβs horrible decisions, and he has a fleeting thought of going back and telling him off for it. And as the thought passes, he canβt understand why. He knows you hate him. He knows you have likely been fed lies and half-truths by Jaehyun for months. He knows he shouldnβt care about any of this. He canβt seem to figure out why he does.Β
βI just canβt get that image out of my head. Itβs making me sick,β you mumble, and it replays all over again. The ear-splitting music, the crowd, his lips on hers, that look on his face when he saw you. All your emotions bubble back up to the surface and come out as a loud groan, though internally you just want to scream until your throat is raw. βI wish I could make him feel even half of what I feel right now.β
The idea that pops up sounds ridiculous in his head and likely even more so said aloud, but his mouth opens before he can stop himself. βWell, maybe you could,β he trails.Β
βI know it may be hard for you to believe, but Iβm actually a good person,β you sneer. βI would never cheat.βΒ
He laughs dryly and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, awaiting an explanation. βBelieve me, I know youβre just a perfect princess,β he mocks, and youβre certain if you roll your eyes any harder theyβll get stuck like that. βBut who said anything about cheating? Besides, youβre not together anymore,β he reminds. βAnd thereβs only one thing I can think of that would drive him just as mad.β
Youβre intrigued now, though doubtful thereβs anything that could reflect the same level of hurt you currently felt. Anything rational, at least. Still, you wanted to hear whatever silly idea Chan had, if not for your own amusement.Β
βWhich is what?β you question.
βBeing with me,β he answers, too quickly, too plainly, as if it was something entirely normal and not an absolutely insane statement. When your eyes widen, he continues, waving his hands urgently to indicate you had gotten the wrong impression. βOkay, not for real, Jesus. Like faking it, you know? Just for him to see and lose his mind.βΒ
That was quite possibly the last thing you expected, and youβre forced to laugh at the absurdity of it. You wait for him to join in, to tell you he was joking just to fuck with you. That would have been the Chan thing to do. Instead, he stares at you, a half-smile playing on his lips.Β
βYeah, okay, youβre insane,β you scoff.Β
βIs it that insane?β he says smugly, poking his tongue in his cheek. βThink about it, imagine how pissed heβd be seeing us together.β
For a moment, you canβt help but realize how attractive he actually is. Itβs not that you hadnβt noticed before β you had perfectly functional eyes β but now being single and also inches away from him, it was an unavoidable fact. It made you almost begin to consider his idea. Almost.
βYes, itβs insane! Just because I gave you five minutes of my time on a shitty night doesnβt mean I want to talk to you ever again, let alone pretend to date you.β
βOh, Princess Y/N gave me five minutes of her precious time, thank you so much,β he quips, and this time heβs the one to roll his eyes. βWhatever, I gave you a guyβs perspective on how to get back at him. Youβre not gonna get any better revenge than that.β
βAnd what do you get from it?β you ask, certain there must be some mutually beneficial aspect beneath it. Thereβs no way he would suggest something so outlandish without thinking of his own gain, and you know thatβs true when he grins wickedly.
βJust the satisfaction of seeing his face when he realizes he lost his girl to the one person he hates more than anything.β
You arenβt sure why you hadnβt grasped that from the beginning. All Chan wanted, as always, was to get under Jaehyunβs skin, to take something of his, to win. The idea is still crazy, and far more theatrical than youβd usually approve of, but youβre a lover scorned.
Then, you think back to the unspoken rule, the sole reason and origin of your hatred for Chan. Jaehyun hadnβt even followed relationship rule number fucking one: donβt cheat on your girlfriend. So, you figured you could break some rules and allow some theatrics.
βOkay. Okay, fine, Iβll fake date you or whatever,β you huff, trying to ignore his triumphant smirk. βBut nothing weird, alright? And once itβs all over, we go back to hating each other.β
He throws his hands up like itβs offensive youβd even insinuated it. βBelieve me, thatβll be no problem,β he agrees.
βGood,β you say simply, a forced tight-lipped smile on your face.
βGood,β he repeats.
The silence that falls over you two is uncomfortable, only disrupted by the sound of the wind lifting leaves along the sidewalk and the faint thumping of music. You can still see the house down the road, and it makes you wonder if Jaehyun is still inside and if he went right back to her. Suddenly, you feel the need to get home and cry in the shower with your carefully-curated sad music playlist.Β
Β βWellβ¦Iβm gonna go back to my dorm now,β you finally speak, shifting on your feet awkwardly.
βIβll walk you,β he offers without a second thought.Β
You canβt help the way you exhale a little too harshly. Truthfully, you just wanted a short walk on your own to process all of the nightsβ events, including the proposal youβd just accepted. And you had already spent more time than youβd like with Chan for one night (although you know youβll have to spend much more now).
βUh, no thanks. I donβt think we need to start the whole fake dating thing right now,β you reject bluntly.Β
He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, trying to stop himself from saying the wrong thing. Heβs just trying to do a nice thing, the right thing, but you have a way of getting under his skin. The next few weeks are surely going to be a challenge. βItβs not for that, Y/N,β he sighs. βItβs late and dark out. Just let me make sure you get home safe, please?β
The roads are lit only by streetlights and the moon shining above, and you shiver from both the chilly air and the thought of making the walk to your dorm alone. Youβd expected to be going home with Jaehyun, definitely not on your own in the middle of the night.Β
βFine,β you agree reluctantly. βBut can we just walk in silence? Not really in the mood to talk anymore.β
You deliberately exclude that you feel like if you keep talking, youβre going to break. Youβd kept a relatively strong front β far stronger than you thought youβd be after being cheated on β but it was slowly crumbling. Maybe it was all the adrenaline that kept your emotions contained, because now everything was slowing down and soaking in.Β
βSure,β he nods, following closely behind when you turn and begin taking steps forward. Your dorm is ten minutes away, and you walk side by side, arms occasionally brushing against each others. You only make it about two minutes in before he stops, shrugging off his jacket. Then, he holds his hand out, gesturing to it when you stare dumbly.Β
βHere,β he offers. βYouβre freezing.β
Thereβs no denying that heβs right, but that didnβt mean you were going to wear his jacket. You could survive a few more minutes of the cold, even though your skin was covered with goosebumps that hadnβt gone away since youβd first left Jaehyun at the door. βIβm not wearing your jacket, Chan,β you shove his hand back.Β
Before you can start walking again, he drapes it around your shoulders, ignoring the glares you send his way.Β
βDo you always have to be this stubborn?β he groans. βYouβre literally shaking, but God forbid you wear my jacket.β
You click your tongue and pull your arms through the sleeves anyway, mumbling a grudging βthank you.β The newfound warmth was a great comfort, and youβre so wrapped up in it you donβt notice the way he steals short glances over at you. His eyes drag down your body, drinking in how his jacket sits on your shoulders like it belongs there. How the sleeves fall past your wrists and the hem lines your thighs, still mostly exposed from your skirt length of choice. How you look good wearing something of his.
And then he curses himself for even thinking it, tearing his eyes away even though he really doesnβt want to. He clears his throat loudly, awkwardly, trying to ground himself, and you look over wordlessly. Any words you were going to say get caught in your throat when you notice how muscular his arms are now that theyβre no longer covered.Β
Still, neither of you speak again, both thinking silent thoughts that youβd never let the other know. Once you arrive at your dorm building, he walks you all the way to your door despite your protests, muttering something about you being stubborn yet again.Β
βThank you for walking me home,β you force out, gratitude sounding like exasperation. Your back is pressed against the door, hand wrapped around the handle. All you want is to throw yourself in bed and sob and sleep at this point, but Chanβs presence keeps you in the hallway.
He nods, combing a hand through his hair, wondering when it became so difficult to think of the right words to say to you. βTry not to think about him too much tonight, alright?β he sighs. βI know thatβs hard, but just try to get some sleep or something.β
Such gentle advice sounds odd coming from his mouth, and he waits for your sarcastic reply. Counts on it, actually.Β
It doesnβt come. Instead, you smile at him weakly, telling yourself you simply donβt have the mental capacity to go back and forth with him anymore. Not that you were actually hating him a little less.Β
βIβll try,β you assure. βOh, yeah. Here.βΒ
You pull off his jacket, the one that had begun to feel a little too comfortable, and fold it over your arms towards him.Β
βKeep it. You can wear it around or whatever,β he suggests indifferently. It would make your fake relationship more believable, but beyond that, it would appeal to that small part of him that enjoyed seeing you in it.Β
Fuck, what had gotten into him?
βI wonβt,β you sass, bringing the jacket back to your chest anyways.Β
He runs his tongue along his teeth, chuckling. βOf course you wonβt. So stubborn.β
βStop calling me that.β
βStop being that,β he shoots back.
Seemingly, youβd met your match. Someone who could keep up with your quick retorts, your mouthiness. And it came in the form of a man your ex boyfriend hated, a man you hated. You werenβt sure why that made it all the more exciting for you.Β
His gaze lingered, a curious glint in his eyes. He was trying to piece you together bit by bit, but you were a more difficult puzzle than most.Β
βHave a good night, Chan,β you say, finally turning the handle. When the door swings open, he finds himself looking around unintentionally, another opportunity to figure you out. He can see a few plushies on your bed, posters lined on the walls, and framed photos he canβt quite make out. Thereβs probably some of you and Jaehyun, and he hopes those are long gone by the next time he ends up at your dorm.
You slip inside hastily, and he realizes heβd been too engrossed in examining your room to respond. The door comes to a close in front of him.
βYeah, you too,β he breathes out when you canβt hear, standing there just a few moments longer.
Once inside, you wait to hear the sound of his footsteps padding away, and when you do, you crack. The pictures of you and Jaehyun sit on your bedside dresser, mocking you, and you slam them down against the wood. Youβre partially inclined to throw them against the wall and hope they shatter, but you donβt particularly feel like cleaning up glass shards through tears.Β
At least you let the teddy bear he gifted you stay on your bed, unharmed. An innocent soul caught in the crossfire, a child of divorce even.Β
βFuck Jaehyun, fuck parties, and fuck this whole night,β you curse, though it comes out in choked sobs. And fuck Chan, your brain wants to say, but you bite it back. He had walked you home, given you his jacketβ¦and become your fake boyfriend (soon to be, anyways) within the span of thirty minutes. Still, he was annoying, arrogant, impossible-to-deal-with Chan.
Β As much as every fiber of your being yearned for the soft comfort of your bed, you trudge to your bathroom and start the shower, making sure to put on your playlist while the water warms. Because if you were going to be heartbroken, you were at least going to be heartbroken while listening to Cigarettes After Sex.
After thirty minutes of crying and scrubbing your body of any traces of Jaehyun, you finally step out and decide to check your phone for the first time since everything had completely unraveled. Apparently getting cheated on was all you needed to reduce your screen time, so maybe that was a positive?
Naturally, thereβs a few texts from people you could hardly consider friends but would now act like you were with feigned sympathy, full nosiness. Among them, however, is a text from a number you hadnβt saved.
y/n?Β
whoβs this?
Iβd say the guy you hate the most but i think someone else mightβve taken that spot
Chan. It was almost impressive that he managed to sound annoying even through texts.
ha. and howβd you get my numberβ¦?
I asked someone for it. you think theyβll take the bait?
theyβll probably just think youβre a freak who goes for recently heartbroken girls.
Nah. thatβs not really my type.
oh yeah? whatβs your type then?
You watch as the typing bubble pops up and disappears a few moments later, and then nothing. Minutes pass and you assume heβs leaving you on read, and thatβs fine. Itβs late, anyway, and after such a thorough cleansing and crying session, youβre exhausted.
So itβs no surprise when your phone buzzes again just as you manage to get comfortable in bed.Β
Just because thatβs not my type doesnβt mean i have a type
βLiar,β you mumble to yourself. Whatever, itβs not like you care who or what heβs into. In fact, youβre glad he didnβt answer. Who knows what kind of weird things heβd come up with, if not just to irritate you.Β
okay, boring
What about you then? whatβs your type?
Youβre torn between giving him a genuine answer or something along the lines of βbasically the antithesis of you.β Then, you realize you can probably do both at once, since you donβt consider Chan to align with any of your dating criteria.
i like someone whoβs warm, attentive, and can make me laugh. someone who notices the little things, too
Yeah, definitely not Chan. But then againβ¦.
That canβt be right. i mean, you ended up with jaehyun
Also not Jaehyun. That was something you could admit now, but it was different coming from someone else. Like you were the only one who couldnβt see the flaws, the incompatibility. You feel stupid all over again, trying to ignore the way your throat began to tighten once more.
iβm going to sleep.
HahahaAw man. i was having fun.
goodnight, chan.
Goodnight princess
The nickname mightβve been a term of endearment from anyone else, but from Chan, it was a thinly veiled taunt. You save his contact with a very fitting eyeroll emoji just to spite him, finally drifting off to a surprisingly peaceful sleep soon after.Β
βWhat an asshole,β Jihyo hisses. βIβm sorry I wasnβt there, you know I would have ripped into him.β
With all the craziness of the night, you hadnβt even thought to text any of your friends. It was one of the rare times none of them could make it out with you, and now you were being inundated with questions over lunch.
You wave her off, poking at your plate idly. βItβs fine, I promise,β you sigh.Β
βHas he texted you today?β Mina asks, glancing down at your phone on the table. You look down too, half-expecting to see another flurry of messages from Jaehyun β heβd already sent about twenty since the morning, all going unanswered.Β
βYes,β you groan, unlocking your phone and passing it to the two girls for them to read the same desperate pleas youβd been spammed with. They scroll through, mouths slightly agape. βShould I answer? Iβm worried heβs gonna end up showing up at my dorm if I donβt.β
βHere, let me answer,β Jihyo says, and you reach over and snatch the phone out of her hands before she can type. It wasnβt that he didnβt deserve whatever insults sheβd send his way, but that you worried any response would entice him at this point.Β
To satisfy her, you finally text him back, telling him to leave you alone and that you would let him know when you were ready to talk. You truly had no idea when that would be, but any more silence from your end would inevitably have him tracking you down on campus.Β
Then, you remembered the other half of the night, the part where you agreed to fake date the same man your friends had heard you complain about more than once. There was no way you were going to keep that from them, nor would you be able to, but you werenβt even sure how to approach the subject.Β
Hey, by the way, Iβm pretending to date that guy I hate. For the revenge plot of course.
βThereβs actually something else that happened last night,β you begin, studying their reactions. They wait expectantly, eyes wide with curiosity. βChan heard us arguing and weβ¦talked a little.β
βYeah, well, that sounds like Chan. He basically feeds off of Jaehyunβs misery,β Jihyo chuckles.
Mina catches onto the end of your sentence, the words you had said just a little too quickly and quietly. Intentionally so. βWhat do you mean you talked? You canβt stand him.β
Now, both girls are staring at you, disbelief etched on their faces. You and Chan had never talked. You insulted, glared, and mocked. Talking? They werenβt even sure you two were capable of holding a conversation without spitting names at each other.
βItβs stupidβ¦β you trail. βHe had this idea, andβ¦I donβt know, I guess I just agreed to it because I was so angry and emotional.β
Youβre stalling, obviously, and theyβre growing more impatient with each delayed sentence.
βHe suggested we pretend to be together to get back at Jaehyun.β
Itβs quiet for a few seconds, and then Jihyo laughs, a full-body laugh that has tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. Mina just blinks at you, unamused. βY/N! You canβt make me laugh like that while Iβm eating, you know,β Jihyo scolds, still releasing occasional giggles.
βYouβre not joking,β Mina says flatly. βAre you?β
Realization strikes both their faces when you donβt answer, swirling your straw around absentmindedly. Next comes their looks of disapproval.Β
βDonβt look at me like that,β you groan. But what did you expect? You had just thrown into question a fact they knew more concretely than grass being green or the sky being blue: you hate Chan. So did your need for revenge trump your hatred, or was your hatred truly never that deep after all? They suspected the latter β they always did, especially when you would go on about how insufferable he was while eyeing him from across a room.
βLike what? Like youβre crazy? Because clearly, youβre crazy,β Jihyo whisper-shouts.
βAnd with Chan of all people, seriously?β Mina adds.Β
Okay, neither of them were wrong, but theyβd also never been cheated on to understand all the complex thoughts and feelings youβre experiencing right now. And yes, with Chan, because the plan simply wouldnβt work with anyone else (nor would anyone else be stupid enough to go along with it). It just had to be your ex boyfriendβs worst enemy.
βI know itβs crazy and you know Iβd never agree to something like this, but β βΒ
β β but she just couldnβt resist me,β someone interjects from behind you. Then, he throws himself next to you, leaning back against the table on his elbows.
You arenβt sure how long heβs been there or how much he heard, though you guess not much since one of them definitely would have warned you. Either way, add his stupidly good timing to the list of things that piss you off about him.Β
He hadnβt texted you in the morning βΒ not that he was supposed to, or that you expected him to βΒ and it almost made you wonder if the whole night was a fever dream. Evidently not, seeing as he was sitting a few inches away with a wide grin plastered on his dumb face.
βAre you stalking me across campus?β you ask, raising an eyebrow.
He huffs out a hollow laugh. βYou wish. You guys sit in the same spot almost every day.β
Is he right? Yes. Does it make sense for him to know that? Not really. Unless heβd been paying more attention to you than you thought, which also didnβt make sense.Β
βOkay, so youβre not stalking me,β you conclude. βJust watching me.β
βWhy does it have to be you? Thereβs two other lovely ladies here.βΒ
βEw,β Mina says.
βDonβt be gross,β Jihyo adds.
Now itβs your turn to laugh, though Chan is unamused. You want to poke him further, to find out why he knows the specific time and place your friends typically eat lunch, but you decide to save it for another time. Especially since those two are sitting right across from you and would hang onto every stupid thing he says, pestering you about it later.Β
Chan spins forward, now facing Jihyo and Mina. βDo you girls mind if I steal Y/N for a bit?β
βI mind,β you scoff, but he ignores you entirely.
The two girls look at each other suspiciously, knowingly. Then, Mina shakes her head, basically sending you off to your demise (another uncomfortable walk with ChanΒ β two in less than twenty-four hours has to be considered cruel and unusual punishment). βSure,β she shrugs. βWe were just finishing up, anyways.β
Were you, though? The conversation hadnβt shown any signs of slowing down until he arrived.Β
With the approval of your friends, not yours, he clasps his hand around yours and stands up, trying to bring you with him. You canβt move, you canβt function at all with his hand holding your own, and once it hits you, you yank it away from him.Β
And then you stand anyway, as if your body was betraying you and doing everything your brain said not to.Β
βI hope you donβt plan on hurting her, too,β Jihyo cautions, an unspoken threat behind her words.Β
Her intentions are sweet, but you canβt help but feel the need to chide her for making it seem like you two are actually together.
βIβm not going to cheat on her, if thatβs what youβre implying,β he jeers, picking up your bag and slinging it over his shoulder. βDonβt worry, princess, youβre the only fake girlfriend in my life.βΒ
He must think heβs so funny, putting on a show in front of your friends, but youβre not laughing. However, Mina and Jihyo are. Snickering under their breath, actually, and probably going to gush all about this odd interaction after you leave.Β
The three of you exchange goodbyes, Chan already walking away from the table. You have to take larger strides to catch up to him, and when you do, you reach for your bag, trying to pry it from his arm.Β
βIs it going to kill you if you let me be nice and carry your stuff?β he huffs, readjusting the strap.Β
βIt might,β you glare, but you can tell heβs not budging, so you resign. You wait for him to speak, to offer an explanation. Instead, he scans your face like heβs looking for something beneath the surface. βIs there a reason you took me from my friends just now?βΒ
βAre you okay?β he asks, answering your question withβ¦a question? So. Annoying.Β
But it sounds sincere coming from him, unlike how everyone else had asked you since last night. You can tell the difference now between girls who asked because they wanted to know if they had a chance with Jaehyun, guys who asked because they wanted to know if they had a chance with you, the complete randoms who asked just to be in the know, and nowβ¦this. Someone who genuinely wanted to know if you were okay, nothing more, nothing less, no underlying motives.Β
βIβm alright,β you shrug, βjust numb, I think.β
He swallows hard, then nods. And suddenly the Chan you recognize is back. βWell, you look good for someone who just got cheated on.β
Maybe the compliment would have felt good if he hadnβt tacked on the last part. You had enough reminders throughout the day, so much so that your phone had been on DND for hours. And the reminders came in other forms, too, like your lonely walk to your first class in the morning, the one Jaehyun would always accompany you on. Or the song that came on shuffle that you two had once added to a shared playlist (which you now had sole custody of).Β
βDo you know how to give an actual compliment?β you snap, already knowing the answer. Chan would probably drop dead before he complimented you.Β
βSo youβd rather I just say you look good?β he questions.
Yes, yes you most certainly would. But there was no way in hell you would tell him that and make him think his words actually mean something to you. You can just picture his smug look of satisfaction already.Β
So you lie through your teeth.
βNo.β
He chews the inside of his cheek, carefully mulling over what he says next. βYou do though. Look good, I mean,β he states matter-of-factly. And to your surprise, he doesnβt drop dead afterwards.Β
What should you say in return? Thank you? No, that implies youβre appreciative, grateful he complimented you, which you arenβt. You look good too? Absolutely not, unless you want to have him use that against you for the foreseeable future. Ew, donβt say those things? Youβre not even sure you can feign disgust like that.Β
You end up not saying anything at all, but your face says a lot. Too much. It heats up and your cheeks dust with red, a far worse response than any of the others youβd contemplated.Β
βAw, youβre blushing,β Chan teases, bumping against your shoulder lightly. βGetting all shy on me, whereβs that smart mouth?βΒ
βShut up,β you grumble, and then you realize youβve been following him blindly for the past minutes. You see that heβs led you to the heart of campus, the vast field of green where couples, friends, and classmates alike all congregate. He heads straight for a bench, pulling you down next to him like itβs the most natural thing in the world.
βWhenβs your next class?βΒ
You donβt answer.
βYou took me away from my friends to bring me here?β And then you look around, convincing yourself everyoneβs eyes are on you. βPeople are staring.βΒ
He looks over at you, your bag now acting as a barrier between your bodies, and quirks an eyebrow. βIs that a problem?β
βI just donβt want anyone to get the wrong idea.β
βYeah, well, newsflash, princess. Weβre doing this so they do get the wrong idea,β he reminds, tucking your bag by his side. With the new space, he hooks his arms around your thighs and shifts you towards him, pulling your legs onto the bench and draping them over his lap.
βChan!β you hiss, trying to move, but he holds you there.Β
If you thought people were staring before, they must be drilling holes through you now. Realistically, youβre just being dramaticΒ β everyone is too entrenched in their own problems, their own conversations, their own world to really notice you. But you know people will talk, because thatβs what people do, especially when it involves two individuals who are quite well-known on campus.Β
βRelax. The more obvious we make this, the quicker people will see, the quicker Jaehyun will see. And then it can all be over, right?β he explains, and you huff in response. You sit there like that long enough that it becomes comfortable, his fingers tapping idly on your leg while he scrolls on his phone. At the same time, you trace mindless shapes onto the bench, pretending you werenβt melting into him slowly.Β
No.
Being like this with Chan shouldnβt feel this normal, and you refuse to accept that it does. So, naturally, you have to say something to ruin it. Almost like an innate reflex.
βI shouldβve just stepped out in a revenge dress, but nooo, I had to agree to your stupidity,β you mumble. He laughs, and then his face contorts to something more serious.
βYou have a revenge dress?β
He says it hopefully, a glimmer of interest in his eyes.Β
βIf I do,β you begin, leaning in to whisper in his ear, βyouβll never get to see it.β
His entire body deflates, and you take the opportunity to pull yourself off of him. You had a class across campus to get to and also needed a serious mental debrief to process the last twenty minutes. He hands over your bag, lifting off the bench as well. βDo you want me to like, walk you to your classes and stuff?βΒ
βNope,β you decline easily. βUnless youβre willing to walk me to my 8:30 on Tuesdays.βΒ
Itβs supposed to be a joke, and he must know it because he scoffs, shaking his head like youβd just said the most egregious thing ever. You laugh and start in the direction of your class, the feeling of his body so close to yours still lingering.
The weekend comes and goes quickly, with you swearing off any more parties for the time being despite Mina and Jihyoβs pleas. They both mention something about alcohol and loud music being the perfect remedy for a break up. But you already only really went to parties to appease your friends (and Jaehyun, previously), who dubbed them an βessential part of the college experience.β Now, you had the perfect excuse not to. Even Chan texts you to ask if youβll be going out, though he doesnβt have nearly the same level of disappointment as your friends when you say no.
Instead, you spend your days clearing your camera roll of pictures of your cheating ex boyfriend and boxing up all the things of his you no longer wanted to have in your possession. Maybe you could get Chan to burn it all for you (except for the teddy bear, of course).Β
And then Tuesday morning rolls around and thereβs an incessant knocking on your door, which is not only irritating but unusual, given the time. Youβre in the middle of getting dressed when you answer, top half still in a tank top, bottom half in jeans.Β
This person is about to feel all your morning wrath, until you blink a few times and register that itβs Chan of all people.
βWhat the hell?βΒ
β8:30, right?β he confirms, leaning against the doorframe.Β
You fold your arms across your chest, resisting his charm as best as you can. βThat was a joke,β you groan, opening the door wider. βIβm not done getting ready and itβs gonna look weird if youβre waiting outside.β
He steps inside happily, immediately noticing the now barren space on your dresser. You had gotten rid of the pictures, good. He also recognizes his jacket draped along the back of your chair in a way he knows youβve worn it, or at least moved it recently. It hangs off a little unevenly, one of the sleeves wrinkled in on itself.Β
βYeah, because itβll look so much better if we come out of your dorm together at eight in the morning,β he chuckles while you walk into the bathroom to change shirts in peace.
βDonβt even think like that,β you shout. Then, you walk out, throwing the tank top at him (which he catches, unfortunately), feeling emboldened. βEveryone knows I wouldnβt fuck you.β
The smirk on your face is wiped away immediately when he grabs your wrist as you bend down to reach your bag. βYeah? Do you know that?β he whispers. His whole demeanor shifts, gaze intense, grip strong but not painful. You attempt to force out a stammered reply, but admittedly, youβre flustered. Your own body is a traitor, clearly.Β
Thankfully, he releases your wrist and breaks the tension with a devilish laugh. βYouβre so easy to fuck with,β he says, sounding completely like his usual irksome self.Β
Now that you had a glimpse of a different, enticing side of Chan, you craved more and hated yourself for it. After all, you had just said you would never fuck him. And you wouldnβt.Β
But canβt a girl just think about it?
You grabbed your bag successfully this time and slipped on a pair of shoes, heading out the door with him right behind.Β
βSo why did you do this, exactly?β you question, still fighting off sleep yourself.Β
βWhen I commit to something, I go hard,β he explains, though it sounds like a double entendre. βSo if weβre going to fake date, Iβm gonna be the best damn fake boyfriend you ever had.β
How wonderful. You thought you were agreeing to get revenge against Jaehyun, not to fuel Chanβs ego. Maybe youβd need another fake boyfriend down the line just to knock him from the top spot.
βWell, good thing we probably wonβt need to keep this up for very long. Iβve already had people text me asking whatβs going on between us,β you click your tongue. βNo Jaehyun though.β
βPoor guyβs probably losing his mind thinking his fuck-up made you realize you had repressed feelings for me all along.β
βOh, I had feelings for you?β
βWell, yeah,β he shrugs. βThatβs how my story goes, anyways.β
When you make it outside, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you just a little bit closer. And now that you understand thereβs no reasoning with him, you let him. Itβs too early to argue, anyways, but you still roll your eyes where he canβt see.Β
βGod, youβre insufferable. Canβt even give me some dignity in our fake love story,β you sneer.Β
βOkay, fine, I had feelings for you,β he relents, and for a second, it sounds like a fact, not a fabrication. βThat sound better?β
You hum in approval, satisfied with the change. Whether he would actually follow through with it, you werenβt sure.Β
βSo, are you gonna stay cooped up in your dorm this weekend, or are you going out?β Chan wonders, seemingly forgetting why you didnβt want to go to another party in the first place. They were kind of ruined for you at the moment, especially when you never really enjoyed them to begin with.Β
βIβm put off of parties for a while,β you wave your hands. βAnd I need to study, anyway.βΒ
He squeezes your shoulder, displeased with your answer. βCβmon, Y/N, donβt let him ruin your fun,β he urges.
It was too late for that, though; all βfunβ had been sucked out the moment you caught your boyfriend sucking face, and you knew he would probably be there, too. Just because he was playing the regretful, devastated ex in your texts didnβt mean he was depriving himself of his favorite pastime. You wouldnβt even be surprised if one of his βplease forgive me, Iβm so sorry, I miss you so muchβ texts had come while he was balls-deep in another woman.
βIβll have plenty of fun in the library, thank you,β you shoot back.
βOh? In public? Wow, princess, I didnβt know you were into stuff like that,β he grins, and you shove his arm off of you, staring at him in disgust.
βOh my god, youβre a fucking freak!β
βIβm the freak? Youβre the one thatβs going to β β
βChan. Stop talking.β
βOkay, okay,β he throws his hands up defensively. βBut just so you know, I donβt judge, and if you want some companyβ¦β
Fuck this smug bastard, and more importantly, fuck the way he was starting to get into your head.Β
The rest of the walk is relatively normal, at least in the sense thereβs no more talk about public sex, and you reach your class promptly at 8:28.Β
βWell, have a good day,β he says a little awkwardly. βLet me know when youβre planning on grabbing lunch?β
βUnlikely,β you scoff, leaving him open-mouthed as you head inside.
So how you end up with Mina, Jihyo, and Chan at your usual lunch spot, youβre not sure.Β
βYou guys missed it. Then she goes βfuck you, Jaehyun!β and he looked terrified,β Chan laughs, and your friends join in, loving the cheater lashings.Β
βHe did not look terrified,β you correct.Β
βSheβs being modest. Even I felt a little intimidated,β he draws in a sharp breath, βbut it was kinda hot, too.β
Youβre not sure where that came from, and you kick his foot under the table where Mina and Jihyo canβt see. In return, he places his hand on your thigh, squeezing.Β
βYou guys sure youβre faking this?β Jihyo questions, her chin resting on her hand while her eyes flicker between the two of you. Like she would be able to figure you out if she just looked hard enough. Impossible, considering you couldnβt even figure out what was going on at this point. He was still annoying, painfully so, but he was also alluring, and the heat between your legs was starting to do most of the thinking.
βYes,β you and Chan say simultaneously, almost rehearsed.Β
βRight,β Mina nods, drawing out the word. βAs long as you believe that.β
His hand moves now, rubbing along your thigh softly, and you have to grit your teeth to not snap at him. βI do believe it, because itβs true,β you say harshly (but not convincingly). βIβd rather drink a jean jacket through a fucking straw than actually date him.β
Unfortunately, that doesnβt stop his wandering hand; in fact, it only pushes him further, now sliding lower until his fingertips brush along the inside of your thigh. You shift awkwardly, keeping your eyes locked on your friends. You wouldnβt let him see that he was undoing you.Β
βIβm not particularly fond of you either, but a jean jacket through a straw is insane,β he smirks, finding enjoyment in your fidgeting.Β
βThen I guess it does a good job of conveying how much I canβt stand you.β
This time, you do snap your head towards him, eyes shooting daggers into him. They gave a silent warning, a threat he didnβt quite think you truly meant. After all, your body had a different message with the way your thighs clenched and shoulders stiffened.Β
βSo sweet, isnβt she?β Chan smiles sarcastically, drawing his hand back. And youβre grateful β at least, thatβs what you tell yourself, ignoring the small voice that said you wanted more. He reads something on his phone before typing quickly and rising from his seat.Β
βAnyway, thanks for the invite Y/N, but Minhoβs locked himself out of the apartment, so Iβve gotta swing by before class,β he sighs dramatically.
βI absolutely didnβt invite you.β
βSure you didnβt,β he winks, already gone before you can argue.Β
Once heβs out of earshot, Jihyo groans, covering her face with her hands. βGod, I think if Iβm subjected to that level of sexual tension again, Iβll actually pass away,β she huffs, muffled.Β
Bad time to take a sip of your drink.Β
βSexual tension?!β you repeat, nearly choking, completely stunned by her words.Β
βWe werenβt sure of it when you were with Jaehyun, but now it practically radiates through the air whenever youβre around each other. Itβs suffocating,β Mina agrees, only adding to your embarrassment. Your face is heating up quickly, and it makes it hard to deny their accusations.Β
βCan you just hate-fuck and get it over with? Maybe youβll find out you actually do get along in some ways,β Jihyo adds, exasperated.Β
You laugh dryly. βOh my god, do you guys hear yourselves? Iβm not having sex with Chan, thatβs disgusting.β
βWell then can you two at least not make lunch feel like the build-up of a porno?β
Needless to say you would be informing him he could not join you and your friends for lunch anymore, lest you get lectured again on your βradiatingβ sexual tension.Β
By the time Friday comes, things have quieted. Chan listens when you tell him Mina and Jihyo requested your lunches stay reserved for the three of you (itβs not quite true, but the best excuse you could come up with without mentioning that your friends think you two want to fuck each other). So, you donβt see him much, aside from the couple of times he shows up outside your classes.
His texts, however, are frequent. Theyβve developed into something expected, a normal part of your days. You talk about mundane things like grades and annoying lab partners. You talk about personal things like favorite songs and future goals. Each conversation is still filled with sarcastic quips and quick insults, but they donβt hold the same edge they once did. It felt more like comfort β like if you kept up the hatred act, you could protect yourself from what it was becoming.
And at the same time, the texts from Jaehyun had resumed because, although he hadnβt seen it with his own eyes, he had heard that you and Chan were seen together. On multiple occasions. He had even shown up at your dorm finally (the week of freedom youβd had was far longer than youβd expected), and you had slammed the door in his face, telling him it wasnβt any of his business who you hung out with anymore.Β
After that encounter, you were grateful for some peace β which was becoming rare in your life β throwing yourself nose-deep in your notebook. With your headphones on and such intense focus, you donβt notice anyone elseβs presence.
Until someone makes their presence impossible to ignore.Β
βHey, princess,β Chan greets, a cup of coffee in hand. He slips into the seat in front of you, placing the cup down and sliding it over. You have to pull your headphones back to hear him, eyebrows knitted in confusion.
βWhat are you doing here?β you ask.Β
He shrugs. βYou said you were studying, I thought I would bring you some coffee to help your brain.β
He says it so calmly, and you have to fight against the way your heart swells at the simple act of service. Though really, it wasnβt so simple, because this was Chan showing up to the library unannounced on a Friday night, when he would usually be far away from anything academic. For you.
βWell, thanks, because I feel like my brain has basically disintegrated,β you complain, taking a sip. It was your favorite, too β he mustβve asked Mina or Jihyo for your order. βDid you skip out on the party?β
βYeah, I wasnβt feeling it. Kinda just wanted to chill tonight. I thought a library date might be fun,β he muses.
You scoff, watching his lips curl into a satisfied smile. βDate?βΒ
Chan blinks at you like youβve wounded him, although you know itβs all part of his (perfected) act to get into your head.Β
βYou wouldnβt call it that?β he says, disappointedly, leaning his head against the palm of his hand.Β
βNo, Iβd call it me studying for hours and losing my mind and you showing up uninvited.β
He points behind him with his thumb, turning halfway in his seat, an empty threat. βSo, should I leave then?β he challenges.
This is probably the part where you should say yes. You should demand it, actually. But he had brought you coffee, liquid gold for your overloaded brain, and the chances of him listening to your request were slim to none regardless.Β
βItβs fine,β you concede, hoping it sounded indifferent. You even shift your focus back to your laptop to play up the act, writing down βnotesβ that donβt quite make sense. Chan accepts this, tapping his fingers on the table obnoxiously, purposely so. After a few minutes, he straightens in his chair, leaning forward against the table.
βI must say,β he whispers, βIβm a little disappointed to find you actually studying. You had my hopes up the other day.β
It takes you a moment to recall that conversation, and once you do, the realization spreads across your face in red hues. βThere is something seriously wrong with you,β you frown.
And there may have been something seriously wrong with you for enjoying it.
βMaybe. But I think you like it. You were basically writhing when I touched you at lunch.β
Now you know you definitely should have told him to leave. He pokes his tongue in his cheek, in that way that could drive you crazy if you let it (which you werenβt).Β
βNo, I wasnβt,β you argue weakly.
He finds your denial cute, truly, since he remembers your bodyβs responsiveness so vividly. It was essentially engrained in his mind, spinning it in circles. He could elicit that reaction from just touching your clothed thigh, and it made him feel powerful. And curious.
βOh, you werenβt?β he chuckles. βSo if I come sit next to you now, thatβd be fine? And if I touch you like that again, you wouldnβt start to melt under my fingers?β
βI did not melt under your fingers.β
βBut you would have,β he says confidently. He drops his voice to a whisper again. βIf your friends werenβt there, and I kept going, you would have.β
Youβre staring at each other now, wondering who will break first, though his eyes shine with excitement and yours narrow with annoyance. Or rather, desire that you try to disguise as annoyance.Β
βYou think too highly of yourself,β you snort, scribbling gibberish into the margin of your notebook.Β
He releases a small, humorless laugh. βI donβt need to think it,β he corrects. βYouβve shown me.β
You snap now, slamming your laptop shut a little too aggressively. Because you refused to allow him to continue talking with so much confidence, like he knew what you were thinking better than you did.
βIβm sorry, did you forget the part where none of this is real? All of your little touches and stupid remarks have nothing to do with what we agreed on.β
But your boldness only encourages him, biting his lip subconsciously. βNo, they donβt. Thatβs just for my enjoyment. Like I said, youβre easy to fuck with.β
βThat's why you decided to come see me in the library on a Friday night instead of going out? To βfuck with me?ββ you say pointedly, to emphasize how unreasonable it sounded.Β
βWell, you didnβt tell me to leave.β
βI asked a question.β
Chan drags his hand along his face, suddenly far less arrogant. For once, he looked like he was struggling to conjure up a smart response. And he was. But you were refusing to back down, finally having a sense of control.Β
βI donβt know,β he finally says, and you glare at him. βReally, I donβt. I just wanted to see you.β
You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. βDonβt be dumb.β
Because there was no way he meant it. Or maybe you had misheard him entirely. But his whole demeanor had changed, and you no longer recognized the Chan that sat before you without his smugness.
βRight. If I tease you, Iβm βinsufferable,ββ he recites, βif Iβm honest with you, Iβm dumb. Tell me, princess, what can I do then?β
You swallow harshly, trying to ignore what his words entailed. Honest. He said that he wanted to see you and he meant it. The air around you had shifted now, thicker, heavier, falling on your chest in a way that almost made your voice get caught in your throat.
βAre you fucking with me again?β you grimace, waiting for him to laugh in your face. To snap back into the version of him youβre familiar with.
But he doesnβt laugh. βYou tell me. Am I?β
βYou canβt do that!β you groan, exasperated. βYou canβt say these things and then act all cryptic after.β
You cross your arms across your chest, and he relents. βOkay. Yes, I wanted to see you. Is that bad?β
βYes.β
Yes, it was bad. Very bad, actually. Because you were supposed to hate him, and you thought he hated you. Because none of this was supposed to be real, and once youβd gotten vengeance against your shitty ex boyfriend (however dramatic it may be), things would go on like nothing had ever happened.
But is that what you wanted? It should be. It had to be.Β
βHuh. I guess I donβt care,β he breathes. βDo you?β
He awaits your answer, though he already knows what it will be. You had become easy for him to read now; he had studied you like you were his favorite subject. The unsolved puzzle he had finally pieced together.Β
And though you try to force yourself to lie and say yes, you simply cannot. All your resolve has vanished since he made such an unexpected confession, leaving you dazed.
βNo,β you mumble, and your breath hitches.Β
His smirk returns, though itβs different now. Less of an attempt to get under your skin, more of an acknowledgement that one day heβll get to touch every inch of it.Β
βDidnβt think so,β he reaches across the table, trailing his fingers along your hand. You snatch it back, ignoring his snickers.Β
He would be the death of you, you were certain. And for some reason, you find yourself thinking that it may not be such a terrible way to go out.
Neither of you are sure how to proceed after that night in the library, an obvious tension lingering between the two of you. You knew you werenβt going to be the one to address it, but you were growing exhausted with pretending that it had never happened.Β
It seemed like Chan was perfectly content with that, however. He hadnβt even mentioned it once, continuing to text you and show up outside your dorm and classes like it was all still part of a plan. And maybe it was. Maybe he was a great liar, but that didnβt explain the rift that had settled between you two. If he had lied that night, why could he hardly meet your eyes now?
You didnβt ask, because you feared the answer β both possibilities. Though when you turned to Mina and Jihyo for advice, they were adamant. They were convinced they were right all along, that there was a budding romance beneath the hatred. So, it was quite hard to get any sort of unbiased guidance from them. This was something youβd have to navigate on your own.
And by navigate, you meant continuing to avoid it. Hopefully Chan would crack before you did.
After almost two weeks of letting the unspoken words nearly suffocate you, you had begun to believe you really would have to forget it had ever happened. If he wanted to speak on it, he would. Nevermind that he could say the same thing about you; it was him that had started it, so he had to be the one to acknowledge it. It was only fair.
Your phone rings in the middle of the afternoon, during your thirty minute interval between classes. Itβs Chan, which isnβt the surprising part (he had learned your entire schedule by now).Β
βLet me take you to dinner tonight,β he says only a few seconds after you pick up.Β
You roll your eyes, hardly registering his proposal. βA βhelloβ might be nice.β
βHi,β he utters. βLet me take you to dinner.β
If you agree too easily, heβll know you had been waiting for him to say something like this. And with how straightforwardly he had asked (or stated, rather), he clearly expected your agreement. You could make him grovel just a little bit.Β
βYou wanna see me again?β you quip, the most youβd allude to the library incident.Β
But Chan could match your attitude ten times over, so he has a quick retort. βI just figured if we go to dinner you could post a picture on your story, really commit to the bit,β he explains flatly, and then laughs when youβre silent. βWhat? You wanted me to say I want to see you?β
βFuck you.β
βYou said you wouldnβt,β he reminds. βRemember?β
If he could see you, he would undoubtedly point out how flustered you were, then follow it up with a dumb joke about how the offer was always open. And you would have to hold back from taking him up on it.Β
βReally doing a good job of making me want to say yes,β you chide.
βPlease let me take you to dinner. Iβve been thinking about our library date, and I wanna take you on a real one.β
You huff loud enough for him to hear over the phone. βThat wasnβt a date,β you correct. βAnd Iβm busy tonight.β
A lie, but he didnβt need to know that yet. Thereβs shuffling on his end, and then his voice comes out sharply.Β
βBusy with what?β
βThatβs really none of your concern,β you canβt help but grin at your own mischief. βBut if you must know, Iβm seeing someone tonight.β
βY/N,β he growls, and itβs hot. You try to imagine the look on his face (why couldnβt he have FaceTimed you?), and it makes you weak.Β
βSo, what time are you picking me up?β you ask, voice syrupy sweet despite your antics. Like honey masking poison.Β
He exhales loudly, and you can hear all the unease release from his body. If he was going to be so wound up about you even potentially seeing someone else, why had he taken so long to address your ever-present tension?
Maybe he was just as confused as you.Β
βYou donβt know what you do to me,β he groans. βIβll be there at seven.β
He hangs up before you can hound him about the first half, not even sparing a second to confirm the time. No, you donβt know what you do to him, but it was inevitable that you would find out. And he would make sure that you understood to the fullest extent.Β
Itβs difficult for you to decide on an outfit for dinner with Chan, one, because youβre still tossing with the idea internally and two, because you arenβt sure whatβs an βappropriateβ amount of dressed-up. If you look too good, heβll think youβre trying too hard to impress him, and youβll never hear the end of that.
Though, you had already agreed to going to dinner with him, so you probably wouldnβt hear the end of that, either.
Mina and Jihyo choose an outfit over FaceTime (and so kindly remind you to βat least make him wear a condomβ), one that teeters right in the middle of simple and dressy, and youβve fixed your hair at least a dozen times by the time heβs knocking on your door.
When you open it, he stares at you, and then tears his eyes away to roam all over your body. He draws in a sharp breath, shaking his head in disbelief.Β
βWow,β he rasps. βYouβre beautiful.β
The compliment comes with no snarky follow-up, and he doesnβt even tease you when you feel your face heating up. He takes your hand and holds it the whole way to his car, only letting go to open the door for you; you would have never taken him for such a gentleman.
He doesnβt tell you which restaurant heβs picked, but the drive isnβt long before you arrive and are seated, his hand finding its way back to yours while you walk through the aisles.
As you sit there scanning the menu, you canβt help but realize youβre at fucking dinner with Bang Christopher Chan. And heβs staring at you like you wouldnβt notice.
βWhat?β you question, and he drops his head, chuckling.
βNothing,β he says. βJust canβt believe how much things have changed.β
βYouβre still annoying, donβt get it twisted.β
βYeah, well, you still agreed to get dinner with me,β he shrugs.
He thinks heβs won with that, turning his attention to the menu. But even if heβs right, you arenβt letting him shame you so easily. βYou wouldβve begged me if I didnβt,β you smirk.
His eyes snap back to yours, the mischievous glint forcing him to fight back the more impure thoughts. βYou know, that mouth is going to get you in trouble one day.β
βYeah? By who?β
βCareful, Y/N,β he warns, words coming out through clenched teeth.Β
You flash him an exaggerated smile, thanking the waitress when she returns with your drinks, and Chan curses himself for being turned on by how quickly you switch from a temptress to the sweetest angel. He stumbles over his words while giving his order, and you giggle softly without even knowing youβre the cause of it.Β
Considering Chan had brought you to dinner, you felt confident enough to bring up the subject of what the hell was going on between you two. Specifically the Friday night youβd left unaddressed. βSo, is it finally time we talk about it?β
βTalk about what?β
βThis,β you motion between the two of you.
He doesnβt even pause to think about it. βWeβre having dinner,β he replies coyly.
You figure admonishing him for his feigned ignorance wonβt bring you closer to an answer, so instead you push further.Β
βBut why?β
βI told you, you can post it on your story or whatever. Iβm sure Jaehyun still stalks your socials.β
Youβd seen quite a few random spam names in your story viewers, so you knew it to be true, but you also knew that couldnβt be his reasoning.Β
βYou also told me you wanted to take me on a βreal date,ββ you mention, and he throws his head back against the booth.
βJesus, Y/N,β he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. βCan we just have a nice dinner and worry about the semantics later?β
Obviously, the answer was a resounding no, which he should have expected since he understood your stubbornness better than anyone. βOh, for you to pretend it never happened and leave me wondering for weeks? Sure thing, Chan,β you sneer.
You probably should have excluded the part where you admitted youβd still been thinking about that night, because he latches onto it and uses it to evade answering any more questions.
βI really get in that pretty little head of yours, huh?β he grins.
βOr maybe I get in yours,β you shoot back. βWhat did you say? Something about βI donβt know what I do to youβ?β
He rubs his jaw, exhaling through his nose loudly. Because you really didnβt know what you do to him.
βPrincess, you donβt get into my head. Youβve never fucking left it.β
Your food is brought over moments later, right on cue, leaving you sitting idly, stunned. Chan pretends not to notice, already moving past his previous admission.Β
βGod, I am starving,β he groans. He takes a bite of his meal, and then blinks at you when you havenβt even slightly shifted. βWhatβs wrong? You wanna take that picture for your story now?βΒ
If you heard the word βstoryβ one more time, you were convinced youβd actually implode. And youβd take him with you, just to annoy him in the afterlife.Β
βDonβt do that,β you hiss. βDonβt act clueless.β
βWell sorry for trying to be a believable fake boyfriend.β
Nothing about this felt fake anymore, and when he says it, it feels like a harsh reminder. That vicious awakening from the middle of a good dream, pulled to the surface of reality when youβre in such a deep slumber.Β
βThatβs all you are, right? My fake boyfriend? So why do you say and do all these things that make it feel so real?β you demand.Β
Your meals are all but forgotten now, and the booths around you are probably getting more of your argument than any of you would like. You swear you can see the lady in the booth to your right staring at you and then leaning over to whisper in her daughterβs ear. Hopefully sheβd give her some advice to never get involved with idiotic men like Chan.Β
He rubs his temples, growing more exhausted by the minute. βIβm trying to figure that out. I came up with a stupid plan, and somewhere along the way the lines got blurred.β
βYou blurred them!β you whisper-shout, eyes widening in disbelief.
βYou let me,β he says simply, and you canβt deny it. Though heβs still far more culpable for your current situation. βListen, we can talk about it more on the way home, yeah?β
Itβs his cop-out, and you should know this, yet you relent anyway. You arenβt surprised when he refuses to discuss it further in the car, either, and when he tries to put his hand on your thigh, you push it away.Β
He deserves that, but it still makes him sulk internally. If he couldnβt offer you answers, you wouldnβt offer him any more of yourself. At least, youβd try your best not to (easy to say, harder to do).Β
When he drops you off, you hardly give him a goodbye, so he knows heβs fucked up. His chest tightens at the thought of not being able to make it right. Of letting you go without telling you everything heβs been thinking for the last month.Β
He isnβt even sure youβll give him another chance, but he figures he needs to sort his mind out before he faces you again, for both of your sakes.Β
The texts slow and then stop altogether, and you donβt see him at all for another week. Maybe you had pushed him enough that he had been scared off (still, he could at least fake break up with you). Though you had never taken Chan for someone who could be scared of anything, especially with his constant arrogance.Β
βThatβs just how men are. They run when shit gets too real,β Jihyo says, fixing her top.Β
The three of you were currently getting ready in your dorm, because the minute you had texted the groupchat stating that you were desperate for a night out, they were basically busting your door down. And you couldnβt blame them, because you were never the one to initiate, but right now, it seems like the only distraction you have left.Β
βI think heβs just a little confused,β Mina adds with more eloquence. βI mean, do you even know what you want?β
βYes,β you grin. βI want to go out, have a good time, and forget about all of this.β
Mina rolls her eyes at your avoidance, and Jihyo clutches her heart dramatically. βMy Y/N is so back, I could cry right now.β
You know very well that a party is not the magical cure for all your problems β in fact, itβs the indirect cause of nearly all of them β but your other option was to spend another weekend in your dorm preparing an internal monologue about Chanβs cowardice. So, yes, you were going to a party.Β
βYou know theyβre both probably going to be there, right?β Mina advises. Both of the banes of your existence, though for drastically different reasons.Β
βItβs fine,β you wave her off. βI wonβt even notice that theyβre thereβ
Between the three of you, thereβs not a soul that believes your lie, but nobody questions it.Β
Though perhaps they should have, because maybe it would have made you reconsider before you ended up in your current situation. Which was searching through a sea of bodies for one particular person, even if you werenβt sure what you would do if you found him.Β
Mina notices, too, watching as your eyes sweep all along the room while nodding every once in a while, pretending to be engaged in the conversation. You really hadnβt caught a single word sheβd said for the past three minutes.Β
And although there were plenty of people there, you were confident youβd be able to spot Chan out of a crowd. But so far, there was no sign of him, and you couldnβt decide if you were relieved or disappointed.Β
Unfortunately, however, you had spotted Jaehyun. In the back of the room, looking completely untouched, sipping on a drink with his friends on one side and a girl on the other. But he looked disinterested, not paying her any mind, nodding along indifferently. He looked like you, searching for someone amidst the chaos.
βY/N!β Mina barks, and you turn to her immediately. βAre you even listening at all?β
βUh, yeah,β you lie.Β
She throws her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised. βReally? So what do you think, should I go over there and talk to him?β
She points to the left of you, but thereβs at least five guys in the general vicinity she could be referring to. Of course, youβd know who she meant if you hadnβt been so checked out while looking for Chan.
βUm, who?β you ask carefully, and she groans, frustrated. βIβm sorry! I think I need another drink. To clear my head.β
You take off for the kitchen before she can argue, the counters covered in discarded solo cups and half-empty bottles of alcohol. Tempting. Instead, you open the fridge, pulling out one of the remaining unopened cans.Β
When you turn around, youβre stuck in place, a firm chest blocking you from walking away. Youβre about to complain, to remind whoever it is that thereβs a thing called personal space, but one look up has the words refusing to come out. Itβs Jaehyun, of course.Β
βY/N,β he falters, studying your face as if heβd forgotten your features.Β
Your heart races, not from anything other than the discomfort of confronting someone who you once thought the world of.
βLeave me alone, Jaehyun,β you spit, and he steps back, granting you some space and the freedom to walk away if you so choose. But you donβt, not yet.Β
He takes note of your stillness, encouraging him to speak again. βI will,β he nods. βBut you havenβt given me a chance to explain, and I need you to know how much I regret what I did.β
βYeah, well, good for you.β
He sighs, and a quiet moment passes between you, one that makes you picture him kissing that girl all over again.Β
βAre you with him?β he asks, under his breath. You stare at him with feigned confusion, lips pressed in a taut line. This time, he speaks louder, intentionally. βDonβt play dumb, Y/N, please. Are you with Chan?β
βI donβt owe you anything.β
βYou donβt. But I owe you an explanation, and if youβre with Chanβ¦β he trails, and it sends you over the edge. You tell yourself your anger rises up solely because of Jaehyun, but itβs undeniable that half of it comes from all youβd bottled up during the days without Chan around.
βThen what? Then it doesnβt matter? You cheating on me just gets justified because Iβm with Chan?β you snap, voice increasing in volume with each word. βGuess what, Jaehyun, your fuck-up is to blame for all of it.β
Even with the thumping music, your voice carries throughout the room, and a few people glance over, intrigued. Someone pushes through the crowd, entering the kitchen right as Jaehyun opens his mouth to argue back.
βIs everything okay over here?β
Both of you look over, though you donβt need to to recognize the voice. It had become your favorite, even when it was teasing you or whispering innuendos just to unnerve you.Β
βChan,β you whisper, and he heads straight for you, ignoring Jaehyunβs unwavering glare.Β
In a few quick steps, heβs beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him like he hadnβt ignored you for a week. βHey, baby. Are you alright?β he asks, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.Β
Baby. That was a new one. He had called you princess more times than you could count, but it had started as a taunt and never really felt like anything more than that. Baby, however, had your heart pounding and mind racing.Β
βYeah, Iβm fine,β you swallow, finding more interest in the ground now. For a second, you forget all about Jaehyun in front of you, and it reminds you that Chanβs actions are probably directly correlated. After all, the original plan was to get back at Jaehyun, and what better moment than right now? The final act to your months-long play.
βSo you two are together,β Jaehyun concludes, frowning.
βDonβt look so upset,β Chan grins wickedly. βIβll treat her better than you ever could.β
Try not to take his words seriously, you remind yourself. He doesnβt mean it. This is all for show. But as always, he makes them sound real, adding a layer of intensity you canβt ignore.Β
βYouβre not good enough for her.β
Youβre about to chime in, to remind him he has no say in what or who is good enough for you, and that it was rich hearing that from him of all people.Β Β
βAnd you were?β Chan laughs humorlessly. βCβmon, baby, letβs get out of here, yeah?β
He squeezes your shoulder, looking down at you, waiting for your agreement. And as you glance between him and Jaehyun, something takes over you entirely. You pull his face towards yours, hesitating briefly to gauge his reaction. When he closes the final inches, your eyes flutter closed, his lips crashing onto yours.
Itβs quick, soft, restrained, and not at all like what you expected (or wanted) kissing Chan to be, but it serves its purpose.Β
Jaehyun stands there, wordlessly, the most satisfying look of outrage plastered on his face. Chan sees it, too, a small chuckle leaving his parted lips. Heβll probably burn the image in his mind to remember it whenever he needs a pick-me-up.Β
And while youβre a blend of emotions between the kiss, facing Jaehyun, and Chanβs declaration, you keep yourself together for now, yanking Chanβs hand to lead him away. βYeah, letβs go.β
You maneuver through bodies, making it to a noticeably more empty section of the house before you finally release his hand. If youβre lucky, heβll go back to ignoring you, and you wonβt have to discuss whatever just unfolded.
Unfortunately, you havenβt had much luck recently.
βBold move there, baby,β he quips.
There it was again. Only this time, Jaehyunβs not around, so thereβs no explaining away the pet name. Does that make it better or worse? You arenβt sure.
βShut up,β you mumble, βI really donβt want to be here anymore.β
Your night out had been ruined, and you swore youβd be done with parties for good. At least in your dorm you could save yourself from running face to face with anyone who either cheated on you or refused to share their feelings.Β
βIβll take you home,β Chan states, not offers.Β
βIβm not getting in a car with you. Youβve been drinking.βΒ
It was an assumption, but a reasonable one. Though clearly incorrect, because he quirks an eyebrow and shakes his head immediately. βI havenβt had a drop of alcohol, actually,β he refutes, now pulling his keys out of his pocket and swinging them around his finger.Β
So much for that excuse.Β
βWhatever.β
He takes this as your reluctant surrender, now grabbing your hand and leading you to his car which was only a little ways down the street. And despite the kiss, you still had nothing to say to him βΒ or rather, way too much to say to him, and no desire to say it if he wouldnβt talk first. So a thick silence falls between you, leaving you with just the lingering feeling of his lips on yours.
βQuiet today,β he comments, stealing a glance you donβt return. You keep your head pressed against the window, a dull headache already forming from the nightβs events and the alcohol.Β
βIβm still mad at you,β you grumble.Β
His hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter, tongue swiping across his teeth. βI know,β he mutters.Β
βAnd I think I hate you again.β
βWell, the βagainβ gives me some hope,β the corners of his lips tug upwards. βMeans I had you on my side for a little, at least.β
βYou did. Until you wouldnβt talk to me and ran like a coward,β you insult, watching his shoulders drop and smile fade as fast as it had come. You almost regret saying it. Because all your insults before had been quick, meaningless jabs that he could brush off. This one came with intent, a bitterness that wouldnβt be forgotten seconds later.Β
βYeah, I deserve that,β he sighs. βWeβll talk soon, okay? When youβre not tipsy and overwhelmed.β
βI donβt believe you,β you say flatly, still not lifting your head from the glass.Β
He reaches across the console for your hand, rubbing his thumb against your skin. βI mean it this time. Because Iβve been going crazy without you. And that kiss just sealed the deal.β
βPlease,β you scoff, forced. βIt was hardly a kiss.β Hardly. Your minimization of it wasnβt wrong in a literal sense; it was short-lived, lacking the passion you knew you both had within. But regardless, it had completely hijacked your brain, so clearly it wasnβt hardly anything.Β
βI know. Thatβs the problem. I need more.β
Now, you turn towards him, trying to decipher his expression. Itβs unreadable for once, devoid of that familiar smirk. You want to tell him if he needs more to take it, that he can have everything he wants if he just says the words. But those words donβt come, not tonight, and you close your eyes against the window once more.
Before you leave for your dorm, he reaches for your hand again, pulling it to his lips.Β
βSoon, I promise.β
You nod, trying to believe him, though you wonder if it would hurt less if you donβt.Β
You didnβt particularly like loose ends.
Thatβs why after weeks of dangling a fake relationship in Jaehyunβs face and the culmination of it all at the party the night prior, you decided to confront him fully and at least hear what he had to say before you closed the chapter for good. You didnβt owe that to him, certainly not, but you felt like you owed it to yourself. An explanation for why he did it to quell the thoughts that had never completely gone away. Which he also said he owed you, anyways.Β
And perhaps this was all amplified by the fact that most of the day had passed and there was no text, no call, no anything from Chan. He had only said βsoon,β not βtomorrow,β but still. Some form of acknowledgement would be enough to placate you, but he hadnβt even spared you that.
So, with a final layer of lipgloss, you considered your makeup complete and mentally prepared yourself for the impending doom. You looked irresistible at least, everything Jaehyun could never have again.Β
But nothing could ever go to plan (once again, luck hadnβt exactly been on your side), so you arenβt shocked when a knock on your door disrupts your evening.Β
βHi, princess,β Chan grins when you swing it open. Then, his eyes trail down your body, tugging his lip between his teeth subconsciously. βYou look good.β
Well fuck. Why did he have to show up now? A text in advance might have saved you from unintentionally double-booking yourself, or maybe youβre at fault for assuming Chan was ghosting you again today.
βThanks,β you smile half-heartedly, heading back to your mirror to look yourself over once more. Itβs far too awkward to face Chan knowing youβre about to go see your ex, especially when you and Chan had almost establishedβ¦something. Something real, beyond the pseudo-relationship.Β
He senses that youβre withholding something, watching you suspiciously. βGoing out?β he questions, and you curse under your breath. Bracing for the storm.
βSomething like that.β
βWhatβs that supposed to mean?β
His tone is already accusatory and you hadnβt even dropped the bomb yet, so you really had to prepare yourself for his reaction. At best, he would storm out and you could deal with it later, after you had dealt with Jaehyun. At worst, youβd have a full-blown argument in your dorm right before the other inevitable argument youβd have with Jaehyun.Β
βIβm going over to Jaehyunβs,β you say softly, guilt washing over you when his face drops instantly. But you didnβt need to feel guilty β you were allowed to seek closure, especially when Chan hadnβt yet granted you transparency. Still, you canβt help but wonder if you were making the right choice.
Chanβs blood runs cold, and he waits for you to laugh in his face, to tell him how dumb he looks when heβs angry. Something snarky, something annoying. Something. Anything. He doesnβt care, as long as it means you arenβt currently getting dolled up to go see your cheating fuck of an ex boyfriend.
Instead, you say nothing, shifting on your feet uncomfortably.
βY/N, you canβt be serious.β
βIβm just hearing him out,β you say flatly. βI donβt think thatβs a crime.β
βNo, itβs not a crime, but Jesus fucking Christ, youβre looking like that to go βhear him out?ββ
You look down at yourself, a lacy bodysuit and skirt adorning your body β not to appeal to him, not at all, but to remind him what he had lost. Was it a little melodramatic? Maybe. Were you allowed to be melodramatic when confronting someone who had made you question if you werenβt enough? Definitely.
βYes! Whatβs wrong with that?!βΒ
βEverything is wrong with that!β
βOh my god, Chan, you got what you wanted,β you throw your hands up in frustration, βIβm sure youβll never forget the look on his face when he saw us kiss last night.β
βYou think his face is what I was thinking about after we kissed, Y/N?β he asks incredulously. βI was thinking about you, only you, and how right it felt.β
Was this his confession? It was beginning to feel like it. If only it hadnβt come at such a horrible time and in such a horrible way, maybe you would be happier. Now, the words sucked the air out of your lungs, leaving you speechless and uncertain.Β
βSo fuck what I wanted back then. What I want right now is for you to realize you deserve better than someone who broke your heart and your trust in the worst way possible,β he finishes, holding himself back from pulling you into his arms and screaming that itβs him. Heβs the one who will give you everything you deserve; heβll make it his lifeβs purpose to do so.
βIβm just hearing him out,β you repeat again, emphatically, though no matter how true it was or how believable you made it sound, Chan refuses to accept it.Β
βRight,β he scoffs, running his hand through his hair. βCanβt wait to see you two all over each other in the corner of every party again.β
You open your mouth to argue, but heβs already heading for the door, unable to take another second of seeing your face and knowing you wonβt be his.Β
βHope it works out, Y/N.β
The door rattles as he slams it shut, and the room feels colder, emptier. And not just because of Chanβs physical absence, but because of what it entails. The same man who you hated - and who you swore hated you - had made you feel more seen and valued in not even two months than Jaehyun had in nine. He had put more effort into a fake relationship than Jaehyun had put in a real one. You were letting that go for some semblance of closure from someone who broke you.
Previously, you had tried to convince yourself your feelings had never become real. That of course your heart would beat a little faster when Chan would remember things about you, that of course you would like the way pet names fell from his lips, that of course you couldnβt stop thinking about him in every single way possible, from pure to downright filthy. This all made sense, of course, because he was the hot guy you were faking a relationship with. It had nothing to do with Chan, and everything to do with your body and mind being too receptive of what youβd been deprived of before.
But you simply couldnβt lie to yourself any longer. And thatβs why, for once, you knew what you needed to do. You type out another message to Jaehyun, deliberating each word carefully. It would be the last youβd ever give him, at least in this capacity, where he still felt like he had a small chance at getting you back.
actually, iβm not coming over. i thought about it, and nothing you say can make me forget what you didβ¦i didnβt deserve that, jaehyun.
i know what i deserve now.
i hope you learn from this and treat the next girl better.Β
His texts come in quick succession, frantic pleas and apologies and then the angry ones regarding Chan. You donβt answer him or even give him the solace of knowing youβd read them. Instead, you turn your phone on DND and throw it behind you, hoping itβll get lost in your bed sheets.Β
And though youβve done the right thing, thereβs still the unavoidable grief over something that once was. The only person you want comfort from right now is Chan, but you know you should give yourself the space to reflect and process properly. He probably wants some time away from you, anyways.Β
So you donβt call or text him. You avoid all the spots you know he frequents. You make yourself as nonexistent to him as possible. And worst of all, he doesnβt even come searching.Β
Thereβs no way for you to know how badly he wants to see your name pop up at the top of his screen, or how he waits for you outside the library on days he knows you usually study. You donβt know that he stayed up late that first night, hoping youβd call him. Each notification made his heart jump, and after the eighth one that wasnβt from you, he finally turned his phone off completely.Β
He didnβt want space, nor time. He wanted you. And beyond that, he wanted you to know you deserved more - that he would give you more. But he canβt fault you for any of this; he can only blame himself for not telling you sooner.Β
When a week goes by and itβs still silence on your end, he figures youβd forgiven Jaehyun and taken him back. And thatβs just something heβd have to live with.Β
The days pass by slowly, monotonously, and though you argue with Mina and Jihyo that itβs healing, they complain that youβre just wallowing in needless despair (βGirl, get your man,β had been the phrase of the week).Β
And you wanted to, but you werenβt sure how to face him after the way youβd left things. There was a gnawing worry that he wouldnβt answer your calls or texts, so you donβt even try. No, you decide youβll just have to show up at his apartment, and yes at nine oβclock at night, because you couldnβt put it off any longer. The yearning was almost consuming you.Β
Though Chan had been to your dorm multiple times, you had never been to his apartment; it was way less convenient to go off-campus where he lived. You had to get Chanβs address from his roommate, Minho, who you had already known from a shared class last semester. And he had also texted you a few times begging you to do something about Chanβs moping, because it was βmaking his life miserable.βΒ
While it was off-campus, it wasnβt far, and your determination was enough to ward off the apprehension of walking alone at night (though Chan would definitely not be pleased). Still, you kept Jihyo on the phone for the whole fifteen minutes, slight reassurance for both of you.Β
You can barely bring yourself to knock when you arrive, feeling much less composed now that you were actually there, separated from Chan by only a door and thin walls. Your fist meets the wood without you fully realizing it, and it swings open with ferocity moments later.Β
βHi,β you choke out, all of your composure gone when heβs standing before you.
βY/N?β he asks, blinking in awe to confirm that youβre real. Heβd started to accept that your presence in his life was a thing of the past, a treasured memory heβd hold onto. βWhat are you β Jesus, itβs so dark out. Come on, get inside.β
He reaches for your arm and drags you inside, leading you all the way to his room; Minhoβs home, and Chan doesnβt quite want him to hear the moment the girl heβs been losing his mind over ends things for good. Is βend thingsβ even the right term, since there had never been a defined βthingβ in the first place?Β
His room is not much different from any other college studentβs room, with books and papers sprawled on the desk and empty energy drink cans filling the trashcan. But itβs his, and that makes your heart swell a little.Β
βI canβt believe you walked all the way here this late,β he scolds. He gestures for you to take a seat on his bed, and when he sits in his chair across from you, you deflate a little at the distance.
βI had to see you,β you whisper.
He clicks his tongue, trying not to melt at your words. Because to him, youβre with Jaehyun, and thereβs probably some other rational explanation for why youβd shown up at his apartment at nine oβclock. He doesnβt know what it could be, but it exists, surely. βYou know if you had texted me I wouldβve been there in minutes,β he asserts.
βActually, I didnβt know that,β you correct, folding your arms over your chest, βconsidering the way you stormed out last time we saw each other.β Which may have been justified, but still.Β
βCan you blame me? You told me you were going to see your ex boyfriend who cheated on you, by the way. And then you didnβt even bother to call or text, so what was I supposed to think?β
βYou couldβve called or texted me!βΒ
βI thought you went back to him!βΒ
He stands, chest rising and falling heavily, and he looks so distraught your anger fades. βI didnβt,β you say, softer now. βI didnβt even see him that night. We havenβt even spoken since. Or I guess thatβs not totally true, heβs spammed me and Iβve ignored him.β
His eyes soften, and he crosses those few feet to sit beside you, mattress dipping under the added weight. βWhy?β
Thereβs a million ways to answer that question, and you arenβt sure which is the right one. So you go with what flows naturally, not giving it a second thought.
βBecause I realized I need more too,β you confess. βNo more pretending, no more lies.β
Though your chest feels lighter with the confession, the room feels smaller and your throat tighter because Chan doesnβt speak, or move, you donβt even think he blinks. He doesnβt mean to stare at you like this, but youβve left him stunned with words heβd only ever heard in his dreams, and he worries if he speaks heβll wake up and youβll be gone again.Β
You start to rise from the bed, fighting back tears of rejection and humiliation. βIβm sorry, I shouldnβt have comeΒ β βΒ
His hand latches around your wrist, gently yet firmly, and you fall back to the bed with a quiet gasp.
βI havenβt been pretending. Not for a while now,β he breathes, and now youβre the silent one. βYouβre right, I was a coward. Iβve wanted you so badly and I didnβt know how to say it.β He cups your cheek, thumb brushing along the skin faintly, confirmation that you and this moment are very real. βI shouldβve told you everything. How much I think about you, how much I hate it when youβre not here.β
Thereβs hardly any space between you now, foreheads nearly touching, breaths intertwining.Β
βHow I canβt get that kiss out of my head,β he exhales. βHow selfish I feel for wanting more.βΒ
You shake your head. βYouβre not selfish,β you whisper, and the corners of his lips twitch into a smile.Β
βI am, because I want you all to myself.β
βThen you have me,β you say simply, as though such a claim wouldnβt change everything. Youβve had me without even knowing.Β
He canβt hold back anymore β heβs done enough of that over the past month β because those words are his absolute undoing.Β
βCan I kiss you right this time?β His eyes drop to your lips, awaiting, begging for your permission.Β
You nod eagerly, and thatβs all it takes for him to place his hand along your jaw and draw your face towards his. His lips melt into your own, this time with all the passion youβd both held back before.Β
And while the kiss starts soft, tender, moving against each other with the carefulness of a blooming love, it quickly plunges into desperate desire. Your fingers thread through his hair, delicately at first, until you tug at the roots and he groans into your mouth.
That sound. That devilish, sinful sound. It causes the heat within your core to grow tenfold, and you kiss him more fervently now, tongues swirling together. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently, then drops his head to your neck.
And when your head tilts instinctively, offering him more skin to mark as his, he canβt help but smirk because he loves having this effect on you. Heβd realized it that day at lunch, when he couldnβt do anything but skim your thigh under the table. But you were offering, so who was he not to take? He nips at the skin and runs his tongue along each spot afterwards, soothing, claiming.Β
βMine,β he mumbles against your neck, and then he kisses his way back up to your lips, mouth hovering over your own.
βChan,β you rasp, βI want you.β
His lips crash against yours once more, because he canβt help himself when youβve just said you want him so desperately. βYeah? You want me, baby?β he asks, breathless.
You shiver when his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, tracing circles along your waist. βYes,β you sigh, and then louder, βyes, God, I want you.β
He grips your waist, only sheer will keeping him from ripping off your clothes and fucking you right then and there. Because he wants to savor every last moment of this, but some small part of him is going feral β not a devil on his shoulder, but his throbbing cock trying to push through the seams of his boxers. So actually not a small part, because heβs big, you can see the imprint in his sweatpants.
Β βAre you sure?β he questions. βBecause if you want me, thatβs it. Thereβs no more Jaehyun, no more anyone else.βΒ
Was he genuinely asking, or just trying to make you fall apart? You canβt tell, but youβre so needy, you answer regardless.Β
βI donβt want anyone else.β
His hands hook under your shirt while he guides you onto his lap, and you raise your arms for him to pull it off while you settle against him. He pauses, drinking in the sight β you havenβt even taken your bra off yet β and then his palms find your breasts, massaging through the fabric.
βYouβre so beautiful,β he says, thumbs flicking over your covered nipples. The moan it elicits is so delicious that he does it again, and then again, cock twitching in his sweatpants.
βYou only think that βcause Iβm shirtless,β you quip, toying with the hem of his like you needed to make things even.
βNo,β he says firmly. βAlways thought you were the prettiest fucking girl ever.β He reaches behind his neck, yanking his tank top up and over his head, and you swear your breathing stops momentarily. This is what heβd hidden behind t-shirts and hoodies (and that jacket you still hadnβt given back to him), and honestly, how dare he?
But you canβt focus on that a moment longer, because he dips his head down to press his lips against the tops of your breasts hungrily, dragging wet kisses all the way to your sternum. βSo fucking pretty,β he repeats, fingers unclasping your bra and tugging the straps down.Β
His mouth is on you again before it even hits the ground, like heβll keel over and die if he isnβt tasting you, and right now, he really thinks he might. So, for survival, he wraps his lips around your perked nipple, tongue swirling around it, then flicking.Β
Each careful movement of his tongue causes your breath to hitch, hips rutting against him for any sort of friction, and he moans against you. His hands grip your waist, stilling your movements, and as a punishment β if you could call it that β he bites gently and tugs the sensitive bud between his teeth.
βChan,β you moan, and when you feel the curl of that signature smirk, you become emboldened. βWho knew your mouth could actually be useful?β
Because although you definitely didnβt hate him now, you could at least reflect on that history, if not just to drive him a little wild. And hopefully heβd fuck you just a little bit harder.Β
He growls then, his hand sweeping along your side to squeeze your other breast, kneading the soft skin in his palm. And when you least expect it, his hand comes down, slapping your breast with enough force to make you gasp.
βFuck, Iβm gonna miss that smart mouth of yours. Always thought it was so hot the way youβd act like you actually hated me,β he chuckles, now massaging the skin.
βI did hate you,β you rasp. You arenβt even sure if thatβs true anymore, because you canβt think. His cock pressing into you has your mind in a frenzy. One where your only thoughts are of having him inside you, stretching you open, filling you up.Β
When he lifts his head from your breasts, his eyes are dark, lidded, and boring right through you. Daring you to say it again. To lie and see where it gets you.
βYou sure?β he whispers, tauntingly. βBecause I always saw that look in your eyes.β His fingers dip lower, slipping into your panties, and he laughs when you shudder. βDeep down, you wanted to know all the filthy things I could do to this gorgeous body.β
Maybe you did. It matters little what you wanted back then, because you could only think of what you wanted right now, and his fingers were drifting dangerously close to it. But he was playing with you, not bringing them any further, waiting for your admission.Β
βYou flatter yourself,β you whisper. The wrong answer, clearly, because he pulls his fingers away, gripping your chin now. Forcing you to look at him, because he knows you wonβt be able to keep up the act if heβs staring at you so intensely.Β
βSay itβs not true then,β he orders.
You should be able to say it. You should be able to look him in the eyes and tell him he was once everything you wanted no part of. But he starts peppering open-mouthed kisses along your neck again, unfairly, and your voice betrays you. βItβs not true,β you mumble weakly.
Your fingers fly to his hair and tangle at the strands, but he wonβt let you off that easily. Of course not. He grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers.Β
βNo,β he growls. βSay it like you mean it.βΒ
His commands only add to the ache between your legs, and you accept that you canβt win. Your silence tells him everything, and he releases, hand patting your cheek like he pitied you. βThatβs what I thought,β he hums, satisfied.
Your breathing becomes ragged when his hand trails down again, and this time youβre sure that heβll relent and give you what your body was craving. Or maybe that was just you trying to convince yourself.Β
βYou never hated me. You hated that you knew I was better than your boyfriend,β he smirks, slipping his fingers into your jeans. They drag down, slowly, finally stopping right at your core. βYou hated that you wanted to know what it would feel like if I touched you here,β he taunts, rubbing your pussy through the soaked fabric of your panties.Β
βShit, youβre this wet for me?β he groans, fingers gliding up and down, pressing harder when they pause at your clit. βI guess I was right, then.β
Any other time you would have been able to throw something sarcastic right back at him, but not now, not when he was teasing you like this. It was the closest heβd gotten to touching you where you so desperately needed him, and your hips buck unwittingly again. βPlease, Chan. Need you,β you moan.
βYeah, I know baby,β he coos. βDonβt worry. Iβll show you everything Iβve been dreaming about doing to you.β
And then youβre pushed off of him and onto the bed, hitting the sheets with a quiet squeal. The same fingers that had been rubbing your clothed pussy now hurriedly unbutton your jeans, and you lift off the bed slightly to help him drag them down along with your panties.
Once youβre completely naked before him, his movements lull, now taking in every inch of exposed skin.Β
You feel like youβre drowning under his eyes, because the last person to see you like this had betrayed you, had touched someone that wasnβt you. This was the reality of infidelity β the insecurity, the nagging, cruel insecurity that seeped into places it shouldnβt. Because Chan would never.
And he sees it, too. The way you begin to falter and drift elsewhere. Your head turning against the pillow, refusing to face him.
βHey,β he whispers, cupping your jaw, pulling your face back towards him. βWhereβd you go, baby? Donβt hide from me, please.β
You swallow harshly, forcing a smile that doesnβt quite reach your eyes. βNot hiding. Justβ¦worried Iβm not enough,β you mumble, and the words break him. He hated Jaehyun before, but he despises him now, because he made youΒ β who he considered the most beautiful girl to ever grace the earth, even when you were calling him an idiot β feel less than. And thatβs something Chan would spend the rest of his life undoing if he had to.
His thumb strokes your skin now, trying to wipe away the remnants of anyoneβs touch that wasnβt his. βNo, stop that. Youβre more than enough. Youβre perfect,β he says.Β
Your cheeks heat up from the affirmations, and he kisses you to cement them. But it's short, subdued, as he moves further down, lips grazing your neck, your chest, then your navel. He sinks lower, hovering right above your cunt, spreading your legs apart.Β
βSo perfect for me,β he breathes, and you can feel the air hitting against you. βYouβre mine now. You wonβt have to worry about anyone else ever again.βΒ
The words can barely sink in before his tongue is on you, licking a slow, tantalizing stripe between your folds. Itβs so sudden that your hips lift off the bed, and his hands come quick, wrapping around your thigh and pinning you down. He swipes his tongue again, and then he takes as much of your pussy into his mouth as he can, devouring what had been kept from him for too long.
βFuck, Chan, please,β you moan, grabbing at his hair for something to ground you. He groans into you, both from your fingers tugging and the sound of you moaning his name like that.Β
βYou taste so fucking good,β he rasps. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking the sensitive nub hard, tugging, releasing. Then, he swirls his tongue, creating a pattern that has your back arching, threatening to come undone.Β
Youβd thought about this. Lonely nights in your dorm, touching yourself at the thought of how he would look between your legs, about how his tongue would feel against you. But there was no way to anticipate this. He lapped at your pussy like he was starved and you were the only meal heβd get again. Heβd like that, truthfully.
Your body is trembling by the time he draws his head back, and the lack of his warm tongue causes you to whine. βPatience, princess,β he coos.Β
Before you can beg him to touch you again, he spits directly onto your cunt, letting his fingers spread it as if your slick wasnβt enough. And the action is so erotic, so filthy that your thighs clench involuntarily and he has to hold them open.
Two fingers push inside you, and his tongue is back, flicking your clit with urgency. He pumps them languidly, curling them against your g-spot and then pulling back until youβre almost empty. His name leaves your mouth through choked cries and it only drives him further, because he needs you to unravel just like this. His tongue circles your clit in rhythm with his fingers, hitting your sweet spot with each pump, and his pace quickens when he can tell youβre close.Β
βChan, please donβt stop!β you pant. βFuck, Iβm so close.βΒ
Itβs all too much - his fingers, his tongue, the lewd noises of them bringing you to the edge. βGo on, baby, give it to me,β he coaxes. βCome on my tongue for me, just like that.β
With his permission (which was much more of a plea), you let go, throwing your head back against the pillow. Your whole body comes alive with the intensity of your orgasm, ripping through you in currents while he continues lapping at your pussy lazily. Itβs only when he pulls his fingers out for the final time and sucks them clean that you come down, chest heaving.Β
βMy mouth sure is useful, huh?β he teases, laughing when you roll your eyes.Β
His laughter is cut short when you sit up on your knees and tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, head lowering. Your intentions are clear, but he grips your shoulder, halting your movements.Β
βNo, no, princess, itβs okay,β he huffs, using his last bit of self-restraint. He canβt believe heβs turning down head from you, but right now, being buried inside you is his priority.Β
You canβt believe it either, blinking up at him sweetly, eyes wide with confusion. βBut I wanna return the favor,β you pout.
Jesus, were you an angel from above or a succubus from the depths of hell, he wonders?
βFuck, I know, baby,β he groans. βBut I need to be inside you, right now.β
He sounds so desperate that you feel like youβre in control now, and you reach for his cock through his sweatpants. Wrapping your fingers around it, stroking softly. βYou wanna fuck me, Channie?β you purr.Β
βYes,β he growls, grabbing your wrist β all your control, gone. βYou want it too, donβt you baby?β He stands, ridding himself of his sweats and boxers at once. His cock springs free, precum beading on the tip, and he cages you against the bed. βOr can you not take it? Hm? Is one all this pretty pussy can give me?β
The flip switches in you instantly, arms slithering around his neck, yanking him to you. His lips crash onto yours, all teeth and tongue, both of you at your neediest. When your hand slips down to stroke him, thumb spreading precum along his length, he lets out a low guttural sound into your mouth.Β
βBaby, shit, youβre killing me,β he rasps.
βCan you die inside me, at least?βΒ
That he could do. Happily. Willingly. He reaches over you, pulling open a drawer and rummaging inside. And though you shouldnβt, you bring your hand to his wrist, stopping him.Β
βIβm on the pill, if that helps,β you whisper. βI need to feel you, nothing else.β Your words are sinful but your eyes are so sweet, looking up at him like youβd break if he denied you.Β
βFuck, princess, youβre trouble,β he groans, shoving the drawer closed and bringing his hand to your cheek instead. He swipes away a few strands of hair that had fallen, trying to soak in every inch of your perfect face.Β
βYou love it,β you giggle.
βGod, yes I do.β
He grasps his cock and fists it a few short times, then guides it along your pussy. Your slick coats his shaft immediately, slow drags making your head spin. And when he slaps the tip against your clit, you know heβs doing it just for that. To drive you crazy, to hear your whines, to see you writhing for it. For him. Would it be appropriate to call him a smug bastard again?
βStop teasing,β you beg, your voice a strained whisper.
βBut youβre so cute like this,β he says. βWhatβd you say again? βEveryone knows I wouldnβt fuck you?ββ
You buck your hips against him, a poor retaliation, and he laughs, positioning himself at your entrance. βWell look at you now, princess.β
He presses into you just the smallest bit, enough for the tip to slip inside, still teasing when all you wanted was for him to plunge inside you and fuck you senseless. That small amount of pressure is gone in an instant, leaving you empty once more.Β
βChan,β you whimper. βPlease just fuck me, I canβt take it.β
You might cry if he keeps this up, still sensitive from your last orgasm but so desperate for another. And while he wouldnβt mind driving you to that point, his cock is painfully hard. Even heβs at his limit.Β
βOh, baby, youβre gonna take it,β he taunts, thrusting forward in one swift motion. He bottoms out and stays there, immobile, reveling in your cunt stretching around him. βFuck. Jesus Christ, you feel amazing.β
βWould feel more amazing if you would move,β you hiss, and he actually listens. His hips snap against you with a purpose, slow and deep, watching every inch sink further.Β
Each thrust reaches that sweet spot that has your back arching and nails digging into him. You can already feel the fire building inside you again, clenching around him in a way that has him wondering if youβre a dream. βFuck, your pussy was made for me,β he groans, hips bucking faster now. Less restraining and savoring, more adhering to his primal urge to fill you up entirely.
βFunny. Jaehyun said the same thing,β you pant. You arenβt sure where the confidence comes from, especially when heβs the one pounding into you; maybe heβs fucking the attitude back into you. But you know itβll get you into trouble, the good kind of trouble, the kind where Chan wrecks you mercilessly.Β
And oh, he does. He thrusts wilder, rougher, almost carelessly, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing throughout the room.Β
βYeah? Well he fucking lied, baby,β he growls. βBecause you feel that?β His hand presses down on your stomach. βThatβs all me. My cock youβre squeezing like a fucking vice.β
His hand slides down, thumb rubbing tight circles against your clit. The added sensation brings you closer to the edge, and heβs nearly there as well. βChan, oh my god,β you moan, nails dragging along his bicep.Β
βYouβre so tight,β he grunts. βDid he ever fuck you right?β He wonβt even say the name, because it holds no meaning now. Youβre his, and heβll fuck you enough times that you wonβt remember anyone else.Β
Your walls clench harder around him, his thumb circling relentlessly. βNo,β you cry. βNot like you. Not like this.β That answer satisfies him, and he pulls back all the way just to slam into you harder.
βI didnβt think so,β he muses. He leans down, nipping at your neck. βForget about him. All you need to remember is me and my cock ruining you like this.βΒ
Youβd already forgotten, only able to think about how Chan was the one currently fucking into you like he had something to prove. Youβre so close to release, strangled cries of his name escaping your lips while your thighs clench around him. βAh, Chan, Iβm gonna come!β you whimper.
βFuck, me too, baby,β he grunts. βYou want me to fill you up? Leave your pussy leaking with my cum?β
His words are your final propulsion, and he emphasizes them with each rut of his hips. Your back arches off the bed, face contorting in pure euphoria, and Chan commits the image to memory. It matters little that he knows heβll see it many, many more times; he wants to watch you ride every single high until the end of time.Β
Your orgasm washes over you, setting every inch of your body aflame, and you want more. More of him. All of him. βYes! Please fill me up, please,β you beg, voice breaking from the overstimulation.Β
He canβt deny you, doesnβt want to deny you, and he couldnβt anyways. Youβve basically sucked him in, legs keeping him held in place. He thrusts into you one final time, a low groan emitting from someplace deep within, hips jerking erratically as thick, white strings of cum spurt inside of you.
When youβve milked every last drop from him, he pulls out from your spent heat and falls to the bed dramatically, limbs flopping as if heβs dead. And maybe he is, because that was definitely heaven.Β
You lay there side by side, chests rising and falling in sync, staring at the ceiling like it might offer an explanation for what just happened. How you ended up like this, his cum dripping from you, your scratches welting along his back, when just months ago you couldnβt stand each other. Supposedly.Β
Then comes a knock on the door, and you both are struck with the realization that youβd forgotten Minho was home, in another room, hearing everything. Or rather, Chan had forgotten, and youβd never known. Never even considered it.Β
βAre you two done in there?β he calls from outside. You lift your head and look at Chan with wide eyes, and he shrugs like heβs just as clueless.
βUh, yeah,β Chan shouts back. You bury yourself under the sheets, expecting the door to swing open. Thankfully, it doesnβt. But the alternative might be worse.
βY/N, when I asked you for help, I didnβt mean by moaning loud enough to wake the neighbors in my apartment.β
Minhoβs footsteps pad away from the door, and you pull back the sheets, horrified. βWas I really that loud?!β you exclaim. He hadnβt said anything about your volume or even tried to quiet you, and you were far too consumed to notice.Β
βA littleβ¦β Chan rubs his neck sheepishly.
You wish you could melt into the bed and disappear forever, because how would you ever face Minho again? And their poor neighbors, no less. The walk of shame was going to be unbearable. βOh my god, thatβs so embarrassing!β you groan.Β
He shakes his head vehemently and kisses your forehead, a small reassurance. βNo! No, baby, it was so hot,β he coos. And then it hits him. βWait. Minho asked you for help?β
βI guess you were going crazy without me,β you smirk. This time he groans, and you laugh, nuzzling into his neck. βDonβt worry. Youβre not getting rid of me now.β
βLike Iβd ever want to,β he whispers.Β
His lips press into your hair, and you canβt help but sigh against him. Because any remnants of hatred, if they even truly existed, are gone, and youβre left only with the peaceful acceptance that this was a glimpse of countless days to come.
After a year abroad, Hwang Hyunjin comes back different. Much to your dismay, the change isn't only on the outside.
β π PAIRING(S) | Hyunjin x reader
β π THEMES | jerk!hyunjin, slowburn <3, friends to frenemies to lovers kinda?, f2l, buzz cut and mullet hyunjin, buff!hyunjin, ft other members
β π WORD COUNT | n/a
β π SCHEDULE | 10/10/25 - UPDATING WEEKLY ON FRIDAYS
β π RATING | pg13
β π TAGLIST | @akindaflora @sam200212345 @alisonyus @itsraininghyunebuckets @seungminnieinthebuilding @hwangjoanna @xesqz @skzfelixlove @screamsinbanshee @elizalabs3 @lemonn015 @femaholicc @stayjinnie @that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick @todorokiskitten @baedreamverse @arunabrak @v3n7s @cb9711 @9824web @dlizzzy @ayedomino-08 @otherworldlystriderstranger @lilbugthings @broken-glowsticks + regular stray kids taglist
NavigationΒ |Β Taglist
β π CHAPTER LIST: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve | thirteen | +
β π TEASER | PREVIEW BELOW THE CUT
β π PREVIEW
Hwang Hyunjin turns to you in what seems to be slow motion. Though youβve seen him almost every day for the last five yearsβsave for last yearβyou feel like youβre seeing him for the first time.
Hyunjin, who had grown his hair just past his shoulders and maintained considerably long lengths since then, had a buzz cut.
Hyunjin, who you knew had started working out a bit, was three times the size of the man you knew.
Hyunjin, who left with only his ears pierced, had piercings in his eyebrows and nose bridge.
Hyunjin, who had always been your sweet friend who greeted you with a smile at every chance, was now staring at you with a face devoid of all emotion.Β
It gives you whiplash how much he changed in only a year. Sure, you knew he had always been pretty experimental with his hair, but to buzz it completely was something nobody expected. Not to mention the fact that he looked like some tough-guy who had eaten your art-loving sweetheart of a friend twice and used him for protein. It didnβt help that you hadnβt caught a whiff of the old Hyunjin other than his brief chuckling earlier when you had first walked in.
Dropping your bag on your seat, you give him a proper once-over, mouth still hanging open in complete shock at what youβre seeing.Β
Youβre not sure if itβs disbelief or because damn is he fine, or bothβbut your stomach twists.Β
Then finally, he cracks a smile that youβre not sure youβve seen on him before. βHey [Y/N], long time no see. You miss me? You look like you did.β
That finally makes you shut your mouth, before you retort back, βRelax, painter boy. I justβ¦ didnβt recognize you at first.β
He looks a little smug at that, somewhat of a smirk playing at his plump lips that youβve missed staring atβ¦
βI know, right! He has gotten huge since the last time we saw him. Heβs almost as big as me now!β Changbin grins, patting Hyunjinβs biceps in admiration. βWe should start working out together.β
βI think Iβm as big as you already, Bin,β Hyunjin laughs, hitting a tricep flex, βYou see that?β
And though they seem to be in friendly competition, you canβt help but wince at Hyunjinβs tone.Β
You canβt help the way your eyes stay glued to his bicep, either.Β
β π please consider reblogging and/or commenting, your support means a lot to me <3
Synopsis: You used to orbit around Chan, all late nights and unspoken feelings, until his rejection forced you to move on. Now youβre in a soft, quietly solid relationship with Seungminβand Chan can only regret the choice that made room for someone who actually chose you back.
a/n: ahh this is so bittersweet but comforting at the same time
wc: 6,978
You always find him in the same place.
Headphones on, shoulders hunched, fingers tapping restlessly against the desk as a project file glows on the screen. The clock on the wall insists itβs nearly 2 a.m., but Bang Chan still looks like heβs only halfway through his to-do list.
You pause at the doorway of the studio, paper cup of coffee warm between your hands.
βChan?β
He jumps slightly, spinning in his chair. The harsh blue light of the monitors softens when he recognises you.
βOhβ hey. You scared me.β He pulls one earcup down, a small tired smile tugging at his lips. βWhat are you doing here? Didnβt your shift end ages ago?β
You step in, closing the door with your foot. βDidnβt your shift end ages ago?β
He laughs quietly, that soft breathy sound youβve heard a thousand times. You cross the room and set the coffee beside his keyboard.
βThought you might need this.β
His eyes flick to the cup, then to your face.
βYouβre an actual angel, you know that?β He wraps his hands around it, inhaling the steam like itβs oxygen. βThank you.β
βItβs just convenience store coffee.β
βYeah, but itβs coffee.β He takes a sip, eyes closing. βAnd you thought about me.β
He says it so casually, like it doesnβt send your heart straight through the floor.
You swallow, fingers twisting together. Youβve rehearsed what youβre about to say a hundred timesβ in the shower, on the bus, staring at your bedroom ceiling when you should be asleep. It never sounded right in your head, but your chest feels too tight to keep carrying it around.
βChan?β
βMm?β Heβs already turned back to the screen, cursor dancing through waveforms, but his attention shifts when he hears your tone. He swivels properly to face you, brows knitting. βEverything okay?β
No. Not really.
You exhale slowly. βCan weβ¦ talk for a second? Like, not about work.β
His posture straightens. βYeah, of course.β He takes the headphones fully off and sets them on the desk. βWhatβs up?β
You thought youβd be more nervous, but once the first word leaves your mouth, the rest follow like theyβve been waiting at the edge of a cliff.
βI like you.β
His eyes widen just a fraction. For a moment, all you can hear is the hum of the computer and the faint thump of music leaking from some neighbouring room.
You push on before you can lose your nerve.
βI know youβre busyβ more than busy, actually, like some sort of functioning insomniacβ and I know this probably isnβt a good time. But Iβ¦β You swallow. βIβve liked you for a while. And I didnβt want to keep tiptoeing around it like itβs not there.β
You watch the realisation land slowly across his features, like dawn creeping over a horizon.
βY/Nβ¦β His voice is soft, almost careful.
βIβm not asking for anything huge,β you add quickly, cheeks burning. βYou donβt have toβ¦ give me an answer now, or at all, really. I justβ I needed you to know. Because pretending I donβt feel this way is making it really hard to even be in the same room as you.β
You laugh, a short, embarrassed sound. The room feels much smaller now.
Chan stares down at his coffee for a long moment. When he looks back up, thereβs something heavy in his eyes.
βIβ¦ thank you,β he says, and you know from the way his voice dips that itβs genuine. βReally. For telling me. I know that wasnβt easy.β
βButβ¦β you say quietly.
He winces at the word, like it hurts him too. βBut.β
You brace yourself.
βI care about you a lot,β he starts, fingers tightening around the paper cup. βLike, a lot. Youβreβ¦ one of the people I rely on the most. You know that, right?β
You nod, though it doesnβt feel like enough.
βAnd thatβs why Iβ¦β He takes a breath. βI donβt think I can give you what you deserve right now.β
There it is.
βYouβre always here,β he continues. βHelping with schedules, picking up things we forget, bringing coffee at stupid oβclockββ he tries to smile, but it falters ββand I already feel guilty about how much of your time I take. If weβ¦ if we tried to date on top of that, I donβt know how Iβd not let you down.β
βChanββ
βIβm always in the studio. Iβm always thinking about the next comeback, the members, the fansβ¦ and itβs not because youβre not important. You are.β His voice cracks slightly on the word. βBut Iβm scared Iβd make you wait. For answers, for time, for promises I canβt keep. And you donβt deserve that.β
Silence stretches between you like a tightrope.
Youβd prepared yourself for rejection. You hadnβt prepared for it to sound like thisβ soft, apologetic, filled with too much care and not enough room.
βSo youβre saying no,β you say quietly, just to make it real.
He flinches, but nods. βYeah.β His gaze doesnβt leave yours. βIβmβ¦ Iβm saying no.β
Your chest aches, but itβs a clean pain, sharp and bright. You nod once, slowly.
βOkay.β
βIβm sorry,β he blurts, leaning forward slightly, eyes frantic. βY/N, Iβm really, really sorry. Itβs not that I donβtββ
βDonβt.β You smile, and itβs steadier than you feel. βPlease donβt make it harder.β
He shuts his mouth, guilt flickering across his face.
You pull in a breath and straighten your shoulders. βThank you for being honest with me.β
βYouβre notβ¦ youβre not angry?β
βHonestly? Maybe a little.β You huff out a humourless laugh. βBut itβs not your fault youβre married to your job.β
He groans quietly, burying his face in one hand. βGod, donβt say it like that.β
βItβs true, though,β you say, softer. βAnd I knew that. Itβs not like you suddenly turned into someone else. Youβre justβ¦ you.β
He drops his hand and looks at you. Thereβs something raw in his expression, something fragile.
βIβm still really glad I told you,β you add. βEven if this is your answer.β
βY/Nβ¦β
You step back before he can say your name again in that tone that makes everything sting.
βYou should get back to work,β you say. βDeadline and all that.β
βWork can wait.β
βThatβs literally the opposite of everything youβve ever said to me,β you tease weakly.
He smiles, but itβs tight, pained. βI hate this.β
βMe too,β you admit. βBut Iβll be okay.β
The problem is, youβre not sure if youβre trying to convince him or yourself.
You leave the studio before you change your mind, before you stay and let the ache drag on. The door closes behind you with a soft click, and you only let your smile drop once youβre safely in the empty corridor.
For a long moment, you just stand there, staring at the scuffed floor, listening to the faint muffled beat of music through the walls.
Then you square your shoulders, wipe at your eyes, and walk away.
౨ΰ§
Two years pass.
Comebacks blur into each other. New songs, new concepts, new tours. The boys grow more confident, more famous, more exhausted in that strange, glittering way success demands. And youβre still thereβ behind cameras, in rehearsal rooms, at the side of the stage with a clipboard and an emergency stash of plasters and cough drops.
You and Chan never talk about that night again.
You donβt avoid him, not exactly. The first few months are awkward; you triple-check your words, make sure your smiles are the right distance. He hesitates the first few times he asks you for help, like heβs waiting for you to say no. But slowly, bit by bit, it settles into something gentler. A quieter kind of friendship. Not as easy as before, but not broken either.
The feelings fade the way old bruises doβ colour draining slowly, leaving faint shadows only you notice.
You still catch yourself looking at him sometimes when heβs laughing at something one of the members said, or when he falls asleep on the sofa between schedules, mouth slightly open, hoodie pulled over his head. The affection is still there, but itβs less of a storm now and more of a tired tide, lapping at your ribs and then retreating.
Life fills up the empty spaces.
And somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, you start to notice Seungmin.
౨ΰ§
It starts with your ankle.
Youβve been on your feet all dayβ early dance practise, then a long shoot, then a last-minute change to the schedule that has you sprinting down the corridor with a stack of revised cue sheets. By the time the boys are running the choreography again for the fifth time, your legs are buzzing and your trainers feel about two sizes too small.
When the music cuts, you lean back against the wall, stretching one foot, rotating your ankle until it pops.
βYouβre doing that thing again.β
You blink and turn to see Seungmin watching you, water bottle dangling from his hand. Sweat darkens his fringe, cheeks flushed from exertion, but his eyes are sharp.
βWhat thing?β you ask.
βThe one where you pretend your ankle doesnβt hurt.β
βIβm notββ
You shift your weight and immediately wince as pain flares.
He raises a brow. βRight.β
βItβs fine,β you insist. βIβve just been walking a lot.β
βExactly my point.β He takes a step closer, tilting his head slightly. βSit down.β
You let out a breathy laugh. βExcuse me?β
βSit,β he repeats, like heβs talking to a stubborn puppy. βBefore you actually injure yourself and we have to drag you to A&E in the middle of promotions.β
βYouβre being dramatic.β
βCall it preventative care.β
You roll your eyes, but your ankle throbs in protest when you shift again, so you slide down the wall until youβre sitting on the floor. He nods, satisfied, and crouches in front of you.
βIβll be fine after I rest a bit,β you say. βYou should be stretching or something. I heard your choreographer threatening bodily harm if any of you pull a muscle.β
He huffs. βI already stretched.β He gestures at your foot. βMay I?β
You stare at him. βWhat are you, the physio now?β
βOnly for people who are bad at looking after themselves.β His tone is dry, but his gaze is steady, waiting.
βShouldnβt you be starting with Chan, then?β you mutter.
A small, wry smile tugs at his mouth. βIβve been trying.β
You hesitate, then extend your leg a little. He takes your ankle gently, fingertips surprisingly careful and warm even through your sock. He presses lightly into the joint, testing the movement.
βDoes this hurt?β
βOnly my pride,β you say.
His lips twitch. βSo yes, then.β
He loosens your laces and adjusts your trainer, retying it more securely. When he lets go, the pressure feels different, more supported.
βBetter?β he asks.
βYeah,β you admit, a little thrown. βActually.β
βGood.β He stands and offers you his hand. βCome on.β
You take it without thinking. His grip is firm as he helps you up.
βTry not to sprint around for the rest of the day,β he adds. βYouβre the one who lectures us about βlong-term healthβ every week.β
You squint at him. βDo youβ¦ actually listen when I say those things?β
βApparently more than you do.β He steps back, eyes flicking briefly to your ankle. βIf it still hurts tomorrow, tell someone. Donβt be an idiot.β
βYouβre very bossy for someone younger than me,β you grumble.
He shrugs. βSomeone has to compensate for your terrible life choices.β
Youβre still rolling your eyes when the music kicks in again and he jogs back to his spot, slipping effortlessly into formation. But later, when youβre at home and finally take your shoes off, you realise your ankle does hurt less than it had that morning.
You tell yourself itβs just the way he tied your laces.
You donβt think about the way heβd watched you for a full song before saying anything.
౨ΰ§
After that, you start noticing him more.
How he always seems to be the first one to grab an extra mic if someoneβs cuts out. How he quietly adjusts Hyunjinβs in-ear without making a fuss. How heβs quick with dry comments in interviews, but even quicker to back off if he thinks his joking is actually bothering someone.
βDo you ever stop working?β he asks you one evening, dropping onto the chair opposite your desk in the staff room.
You glance up from the schedule spreadsheet. βDo you?β
He shrugs. βFair point.β
Heβs got a coffee in one hand and a small plastic bag in the other. He puts the bag on your desk.
βWhatβs that?β you ask warily.
βFood.β
You narrow your eyes. βWhy?β
βBecause the last time I walked past, you were chewing on the end of a pen,β he says, deadpan. βWhich Iβm fairly sure has zero nutritional value.β
You stare at him. ββ¦Have you always been this sassy or did I just not notice?β
βYou were busy limping around and pretending not to be in love with Chan,β he says, casually.
The air leaves your lungs in a whoosh. βWow,β you manage. βSubtle.β
His expression softens. βYouβre better now, though.β
Itβs not really a question. You look down at the bag and peek inside. Thereβs a neatly wrapped kimbap and a small packet of your favourite crisps.
βIβm getting there,β you say quietly.
He nods once. βGood.β
You tear open the crisps. βYou know, for someone who calls me an idiot at least twice a week, youβre surprisingly considerate.β
βI never said you werenβt one of my favourite idiots,β he replies, sipping his coffee.
Your heart does a small, inconvenient flip.
You tell it to calm down. It doesnβt listen.
౨ΰ§
You and Seungmin fall into an odd sort of orbit after that.
He starts appearing at your desk more often, asking oddly specific questions about the schedule that you suspect he already knows the answer to.
βSo, what time is rehearsal tomorrow?β he asks one afternoon, leaning over your shoulder.
βYou literally have it in the group chat,β you reply.
βYeah, but your version is more accurate.β
βItβs the same version.β
βYours is in pink highlighter,β he points out. βThat makes it feel less aggressive.β
Sometimes he joins you on late-night convenience store runs when practices run long.
βWhy do you always get that one?β you ask as he grabs the same brand of yoghurt drink for the third time that week.
βBecause Iβm loyal,β he says, then glances pointedly at the instant ramen in your basket. βUnlike some people I could mention.β
βI have no idea what youβre talking about.β
βYou said last week that was your βabsolute favourite flavour in the worldβ,β he mimics your voice. βAnd now youβve thrown it over for spicy seafood.β
βItβs called personal growth,β you sniff.
He nudges your shoulder with his. βMm, sure.β
He notices things.
βYouβve been staring at that screen for twenty minutes,β he says one night in the empty dressing room. βEither youβre very enamoured with that spreadsheet or youβre thinking too much.β
βIs this how you flirt?β you ask, dry.
βIs it working?β
You choke on your own saliva. He laughs, low and pleased, and tosses you a bottle of water.
And then, without you really realising when it happened, he becomes the first person you text when something good or bad happens. The one who sends you photos of funny signs he sees on the way to schedules. The one who asks you, βHave you eaten?β with a raised brow that says heβll be annoyed with you if the answer is no.
You donβt notice the exact moment your heart switches allegiance. All you know is that one day, Chan walks into the practice room, smiles at you, and your pulse stays calm.
Later that same day, Seungmin sits next to you on the floor, knees touching as he scrolls through dog photos to show you, and you feel your cheeks heat.
You stare at your traitorous hands, resting a little too close to his, and think, Oh.
౨ΰ§
Ironically, itβs Chan who notices first.
You and Seungmin are backstage at a music show, pressed into a narrow corridor while technicians wheel equipment past. The boys are due to go on in ten minutes. Felix is stretching his shoulders; Changbin is muttering lyrics under his breath; Jisung is bouncing on his toes, burning off nervous energy.
Youβre scanning the running order, making sure you havenβt missed any last-minute changes, when Seungmin leans in.
βHey.β
βHmm?β
βYour hair.β
You frown. βWhat about it?β
He reaches up and gently smooths a strand of hair back, tucking it behind your ear. βThere. It was annoying me.β
Your brain short-circuits for a second. βOh. Thanks.β
His hand lingers a moment too long, fingertips brushing your temple. When he pulls away, thereβs a small, satisfied smile on his lips.
You look up and freeze.
Chan is a few metres away, watching the exchange. Heβs mid-conversation with the stage manager, but his gaze flickers briefly between you and Seungmin, eyes narrowing just a fraction in thought.
He catches your eye and quickly looks away, plastering a smile back onto his face as he nods along to whatever the staff is saying.
Heat creeps up your neck. You suddenly feel very aware of the small distance between you and Seungmin, of the way his arm presses lightly against yours.
βYouβre fidgeting,β Seungmin murmurs.
βIβm not.β
βYou are.β He bumps your shoulder. βRelax. You look like youβre about to be the one going onstage.β
βThatβs because you are about to go onstage.β
He tilts his head, studying you. βYouβre worried.β
βOf course I am,β you mutter. βYouβre all running on four hoursβ sleep and caffeine.β
βFive,β he corrects. βI had a nap.β
You give him a look.
He smiles, softer now. βWeβll be fine. Iβll be fine.β
You open your mouth, then close it again. Instead, you just nod.
He glances at your hand, fingers twitching, and thenβ slowly, like giving you time to pull awayβ he takes it.
His palm is warm and dry, fingers slotting between yours with an ease that makes your chest hurt.
βBreathe,β he says quietly. βYeah?β
You let out a shaky breath you hadnβt realised youβd been holding.
βGood.β He squeezes your hand once, then lets go as the stage manager calls them to standby.
As he walks away, you feel Chanβs gaze brush your profile again. When you glance over, his expression is unreadable.
౨ΰ§
You and Seungmin donβt define anything for a while. Itβs a series of almostsβ his fingers skimming yours in busy hallways, his hand hovering at your lower back as he guides you through crowds, his teasing texts that sometimes stray a little too close to something else.
Seungmin:
you left your charger in the practice room again
You:
my bad, will get it tmrw
Seungmin:
no you wonβt
You:
are you calling me unreliable?
Seungmin:
iβm calling you you
iβll bring it to you
You:
ok bossy
Seungmin:
you like it
You stare at that last message for longer than you should.
The official shift happens on a rainy Tuesday evening.
Schedules had run long, and by the time you leave the building, the sky has opened properly, sheets of rain drenching the pavement. You stand under the awning, clutching your umbrella, watching cars hiss by in the wet.
βYouβre not seriously going to walk home in that.β
You donβt even have to turn to know who it is. βSeungmin, I live fifteen minutes away. Iβll survive.β
He steps up beside you, opening his own umbrella. βWhich direction?β
βSpying on my address now?β you tease.
βIβm deciding whether to file a noise complaint,β he replies smoothly. βWhich way?β
You roll your eyes and point. He hums. βThatβs on my way.β
βIt isnβt,β you say immediately. βYou live in the opposite direction.β
βYeah,β he says, entirely unbothered. βBut I also live with a group of grown men who absolutely know how to feed themselves. You, however, will probably go home and eat instant noodles.β
You gasp. βHow dare you.β
βYou literally did that last night.β
You deflate. βOkay, fair.β
βCome on,β he says, stepping out into the rain. βWalk with me.β
You fall into step beside him, umbrellas overlapping slightly. The city glows under streetlights, puddles reflecting neon signs and traffic lights. For a while, you just walk, listening to the soft patter of rain on plastic.
βI like nights like this,β you say quietly.
βRainy ones?β
βYeah. Everything feelsβ¦ slower.β
He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. βYou need slower.β
You snort. βSays the idol whose job is literally running around stages worldwide.β
βExactly. Iβm uniquely qualified to diagnose the condition.β
βAnd what condition is that?β
βOverworked idiot who thinks rest is optional.β
You bump his shoulder. βStop calling me an idiot.β
βNo,β he says, but thereβs a smile in his voice. βWhat are you thinking about right now?β
You blink. βWhat?β
βYou looked like you were somewhere else,β he says. βWhere were you?β
You hesitate. Normally, youβd laugh it off, deflect with a stupid joke. But the rain, the quiet street, the way heβs really looking at youβ it all makes you braver than usual.
βI was thinking aboutβ¦ timing,β you admit. βHow unfair it can be.β
Heβs silent for a moment. βBecause of Chan?β
You stare down at the wet pavement. βNot exactly. Not anymore. Justβ¦ thinking how a few years ago, if someone had told me Iβd be walking home in the rain with Kim Seungmin, Iβd have laughed in their face.β
βOh?β he says lightly. βIs that a bad thing?β
βNo,β you say quickly. βThatβs notβ I meanβ¦β You exhale, breath fogging the air. βI used to be so stuck on one idea of what my life should look like. One person. Oneβ¦ version of happiness. And when it didnβt work out, I just assumed that was it. That Iβd missed my chance and everything else was justβ¦ consolation prize.β
βAnd now?β he asks quietly.
βNow I know I was being dramatic,β you say, a small smile tugging at your lips. βBecause I didnβt know there were other ways to feelββ You stop yourself before you say this safe, this seen.
Seungmin slows, then comes to a stop under a streetlight. Rain drums steadily around you. You look up at him, confused.
βWhat?β you ask.
He looks at you for a long moment, the usual mischief in his eyes replaced by something softer, more open.
βDo you like me?β he asks.
The question lands between you with surprising gentleness. No teasing, no theatrics. Just simple, direct words, spoken like he already knows the answer.
Your heart thumps unhelpfully.
βThatβs a very arrogant question,β you say, trying to deflect.
He tilts his head slightly. βIs it wrong?β
You chew on your bottom lip. βYouβre veryβ¦ sure of yourself.β
βIβm very sure of you,β he corrects. βWhich is weird, because you clearly have no idea.β
βSeungminββ
βIf you donβt,β he adds quickly, βif Iβve misread everything, tell me. Iβll shut up. We can go back to me bullying you about your snack choices and pretending I donβt care whether you rest or not.β
Something in your chest squeezes.
You think of the coffees, the snacks, the way he steals your pen just to give it back with a stupid flourish. The way he stands a little closer than necessary. The way he noticed your ankle when no one else did. The way heβs quietly shifted his route home just to match yours.
You think of Chanβs studio, the way your confession fell awkward and hopeful into the dim light. The way your heart had shattered and slowly, slowly put itself back together.
You think of how you feel now, standing under a flickering street lamp with Seungmin, rain pounding a steady rhythm around you.
βI do,β you say.
His brow furrows. βYou doβ¦ what?β
βLike you.β You exhale, a shaky laugh leaving your chest. βA lot, actually. Which is very annoying, because youβre very smug about it.β
A slow grin spreads across his face, bright even in the dull light. βI knew it.β
βYouβre unbearable.β
βYou like that too,β he says, and then his expression sobers. βCan Iβ¦?β
He doesnβt finish the question, but you understand. You nod, heartbeat roaring in your ears.
He steps closer, shifting his umbrella slightly so he can see your face properly. Raindrops catch on his lashes, his fringe damp. He lifts his free hand, fingers brushing your cheek, then your jaw, giving you one last chance to pull away.
You donβt.
He leans in and kisses you, soft and unhurried, like you have all the time in the world.
Itβs not fireworks and orchestras and the world spinning off its axis. Itβs something quieterβ a warmth that blooms low in your chest and unfurls slowly, wrapping around all the old aches and whispering, See? It can be like this too.
When he pulls back, thereβs a faint flush on his cheeks, but his eyes are steady.
βJust so weβre clear,β he says, voice slightly rough. βThis isnβt a consolation prize.β
βI know,β you say, and you do. βYou couldnβt be a consolation prize if you tried.β
βGood.β He presses a quick kiss to your forehead, smirking. βBecause I donβt come second to anyone.β
You laugh, the sound carried away by the rain.
౨ΰ§
People find out gradually.
Hyunjin shrieks when he catches you and Seungmin holding hands in the practice room. Jisung wonβt stop making exaggerated kissy faces for an entire week. Felix beams so brightly youβre genuinely worried he might combust. Minho just gives Seungmin a long, assessing look and says, βDonβt be weird about it,β which is his way of approving.
Youβre more careful in public, but around the team and core staff, you donβt hide it. It feels too big to tuck away into shadows.
And Chan⦠well.
You donβt know exactly when he pieces it together, but one evening, you walk into the studio to drop off revised schedules and find him mid-conversation with Seungmin. They fall abruptly silent when they see you.
ββ¦Am I interrupting?β you ask cautiously.
βNo,β Chan says quickly. βWe were justβ uhββ
βTalking about you,β Seungmin supplies smoothly.
Chan shoots him a helpless look. You blink. βOh. Should I be worried?β
βProbably,β Seungmin says.
βDefinitely not,β Chan says at the same time.
You snort. βThatβs reassuring.β
Seungmin steps towards you, brushing your hand briefly with his. βIβll meet you downstairs, okay? Donβt let him bully you into doing another all-nighter.β
βOi,β Chan protests.
βI mean it,β Seungmin says, ignoring him. He looks at you, gaze briefly soft. βTen minutes.β
βGot it,β you say.
He leaves, closing the door gently behind him. The studio feels oddly quiet in his absence. You turn to Chan, suddenly very aware that youβre alone.
You hold out the folder. βUpdated schedules for next week.β
βThanks,β he says, taking it. His fingers brush yours briefly. βHow are you?β
You blink at the question. βIβm fine. Why?β
βCanβt I ask?β
βYou can, but you usually lead with βSorry, can you do me a favour?ββ
He huffs a small laugh. βI am trying to improve.β
You smile, but thereβs a tension in the air that wasnβt there before. You hover for a moment, unsure whether to leave.
βY/N,β he says suddenly.
βYeah?β
He stares at his hands. βWhen did youβ¦ start dating Seungmin?β
Your pulse stutters. βUm. A while ago.β
βRight.β
You chew your lip. βIs thatβ¦ okay?β
He looks up sharply. βWhy wouldnβt it be?β
βI donβt know. Itβs justβ¦ youβre the leader. Maybe thereβs some unwritten βno dating staffβ rule I missed.β
He snorts. βIf there is, theyβve never told me about it.β He sobers, fingers tightening around the folder. βI justβ¦ I wanted to make sure youβre happy. Thatβs all.β
You study him. Thereβs something careful about his expression, like heβs holding himself still.
βI am,β you say quietly. βIβm really happy.β
A flicker of something crosses his faceβ pain, regret, something small and bitterβ but itβs gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a soft smile.
βGood,β he says, and he sounds like he means it. βHeβsβ¦ good. Seungmin.β
βHe is,β you agree, warmth curling in your chest at the thought.
Chan looks at the monitors, then back at you. βCan weβ¦ talk? Properly. Not right now, maybe. Justβ at some point.β
Your stomach twists. Youβve known this moment might come, but youβd hoped, selfishly, that you could just glide past it forever.
βOkay,β you say. βJust tell me when.β
౨ΰ§
It happens two days later.
Youβre half expecting him to text you late at night, ask you to drop by the studio after everyoneβs left. Instead, he catches you after practise, when the others have already shuffled out, laughing and shoving as they head to the showers.
βY/N,β he says, leaning in the doorway. βGot a minute?β
Seungmin looks up from where heβs fiddling with his phone. His eyes flick between you and Chan, and his jaw tenses almost imperceptibly.
βYou good?β he asks you quietly.
βYeah,β you say. βIβll meet you in the lobby?β
He studies your face for a heartbeat, then nods. βText me if you need rescuing.β
You roll your eyes. βHeβs not going to murder me, Seungmin.β
βWell, he did reject you once,β he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for Chan to hear. Chan chokes on his own saliva.
βGo,β you urge, shoving lightly at his shoulder. βYou smell like sweat.β
He gasps. βRude.β
You watch him leave, then turn to Chan. βSo. Whatβs up?β
He jerks his head towards the studio. βCome here for a sec?β
The familiarity of the room hits you as soon as you step inside. Same scuffed rug, same mismatched cushions, same faint smell of coffee and dust and creativity. You remember standing in almost this exact spot two years ago, heart in your throat.
Chan closes the door gently behind you, then walks over to his usual chair, but doesnβt sit. He rests his hands on the back instead, fingers drumming restlessly.
βIβve beenβ¦ thinking,β he says finally.
βThat sounds dangerous,β you reply, because humour is easier than the knot in your stomach.
He huffs a weak laugh. βYeah.β
Silence stretches. You watch him, waiting.
βI owe you an apology,β he says at last.
Your gut twists. βChanββ
βNo, listenβ please.β He takes a breath, eyes fixed on his hands. βWhen you confessed to meβ¦ I handled it badly.β
βYou were honest,β you say. βThatβs not bad.β
βI was honest about the symptoms,β he says. βNot the cause.β
You frown. βI donβt follow.β
He lifts his gaze to yours. βI told you I couldnβt give you what you deserved because of work, because of my responsibilities, because I was too busy. And that was true, but it wasnβt the whole truth.β
βWhat was the whole truth, then?β you ask, voice low.
He swallows. βI was scared.β
Your chest aches. βScared of what?β
βOf letting you down,β he says. βOf getting it wrong. Of being selfish enough to say yes when I knew Iβd be exhausted all the time, distracted all the time, asking you to understand things you shouldnβt have to.β He exhales, shoulders slumping. βI thought that by saying no, I was protecting you. That youβdβ¦ move on faster without having to deal with me half-loving you between deadlines.β
The word hangs in the air like a dropped glass.
βHalf?β you say, heart hammering.
His lips twist. βIβ¦ liked you. Maybe more than liked. I justβ¦ refused to look at it too closely. Because if I did, I knew Iβd give in. And the group was still finding its feet, and I felt like I couldnβt afford to beβ¦ anything but focused.β
You stare at him, a dozen memories rearranging themselves in your head. The extra coffees. The late-night conversations. The way heβd always seemed to know when you were having a bad day, even when you didnβt say anything.
βWhy are you telling me this now?β you ask, not unkindly.
βBecause for a long time, I thought Iβd done the right thing,β he says, voice quiet. βI told myself youβd get over it, that you deserved someone who could actually show up. And then I watched you and Seungmin.β
Your throat tightens.
βHe looks at you like you hang the moon,β Chan says, a faint, bittersweet smile on his lips. βHe notices things I used to notice before I forced myself to stop. He walks you home. He makes sure you eat. He teases you until you laugh on days when Iβm too buried in my own head to see anything past my laptop screen.β He takes a shaky breath. βAnd I realised that the thing I thought I was doing for youβ¦ I was mostly doing for me.β
You blink. βWhat do you mean?β
βI told myself I was being noble,β he says, rolling his eyes at himself. βBut it was easier to say no and bury it than to admit I wanted you and still might not be enough. I was cowarding out, basically. And in the process, I hurt you. And then I justβ¦ let that hurt sit. I never cleared it properly.β He looks at you, eyes earnest. βYou deserved better than that. You deserve better than me pretending it never happened.β
Emotion burns behind your eyes. You look down at your hands.
βI did wait,β you say quietly. βFor a while.β
He flinches.
βNotβ¦ forever,β you add quickly. βBut I waited. I thought maybe once things calmed down, once youβd settled a bit, youβd come back and say youβd changed your mind.β You laugh, small and self-deprecating. βThen I realised your job is never really going to calm down. And neither is mine. So I had to stop waiting or Iβd justβ¦ stay stuck.β
βIβm sorry,β he says again, voice thick. βI never wanted you to feel like you were waiting for something that was never going to happen.β
βBut it did happen,β you say, meeting his gaze. βJust not with you.β
A faint, sad smile flickers over his face. βYeah. I see that.β
You take a breath. βYouβre right, though. About Seungmin. Heβ¦ shows up. Even when heβs tired, even when heβs busy. He doesnβt make me feel like Iβm an extra task on a checklist.β You shrug. βItβs not big grand gestures. Itβsβ¦ him turning up with my favourite snack after a long day. Or texting me just to ask if I got home safe. Or noticing when Iβm quiet.β
βSounds familiar,β Chan says, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips.
βYeah,β you say softly. βA little.β
He looks at the floor, jaw working. βIβm really happy for you,β he says, and this time you can hear the honesty through the ache. βI mean that. Even if itβ¦ hurts, sometimes, when I think about what I couldβve done differently.β
βYou were doing your best,β you say. βWe both were. We were justβ¦ different people then.β
He huffs a quiet laugh. βYou got wiser. I just got more sleep-deprived.β
βHey, youβve grown too,β you protest. βYou apologise faster now.β
βThatβs growth?β he asks.
βFor you? Definitely.β
He smiles properly, the tension easing a little.
βFor what itβs worth,β you add, βI donβt regret telling you. Orβ¦ liking you. It hurt, but it alsoβ¦ made room for the person I ended up with.β You shrug. βWe wouldnβt be here without that.β
He nods, eyes shining faintly. βIβm glad you didnβt wait forever.β
βSo am I,β you say, meaning it.
He hesitates, then steps closer, holding out his hand. βFriends?β
You look at it, then up at him.
βFriends,β you say, taking it.
His grip is warm and steady, and for the first time, the old ache in your chest feels like something finally, properly laid to rest.
౨ΰ§
You find Seungmin leaning against the lobby wall, scrolling on his phone. He looks up as you approach, eyes immediately scanning your face for signs of distress.
βYou survived,β he says.
βDisappointed?β you ask.
βA little,β he admits. βI was looking forward to a dramatic rescue.β
You snort. βYouβd get distracted by a dog on the way and forget what you were doing.β
He gasps. βUntrue. I can multitask. I would absolutely rescue you and pet the dog.β
βYour priorities are very concerning.β
βMy priorities are excellent,β he says, straightening and taking your bag from your shoulder without asking. βYou just happen to be one of them.β
Warmth flutters in your chest. You bump his arm lightly. βWe talked,β you say.
βI figured,β he replies. βYou look like someone who just let go of a very heavy backpack.β
βThatβsβ¦ weirdly accurate.β
He glances at you. βYou okay?β
You consider the question. Think of the studio, of Chanβs apology, of the way the ghost of your old crush finally loosened its grip.
βYeah,β you say. βIβm okay.β
He nods once, accepting your answer. βGood.β Then, with mock seriousness: βIf he made you cry, Iβm pushing his chair over in the next meeting.β
You laugh. βHe didnβt. I promise.β
βShame,β he muses. βWouldβve been fun to watch.β
βYouβre evil.β
βYou like that,β he says, the words so familiar now they feel like a private joke.
You do. You really, really do.
౨ΰ§
Months later, at a team dinner, someone makes a comment that finally puts everything into sharp, almost comical relief.
Youβre squeezed into a long table at a restaurant, empty plates and side dishes scattered everywhere. The boys are loud and loose, laughing over some story Jisungβs telling. Youβre perched between Seungmin and Felix, half listening, half texting a colleague about tomorrowβs call time.
Seungmin drops a piece of meat into your bowl without looking, still engaged in an argument with Changbin about some game.
βEat,β he says absently.
βI was going to,β you mutter, but you take a bite anyway.
Across the table, one of the stylists watches the exchange, eyes flicking between you and Seungmin, then over to Chan, whoβs quietly topping up everyoneβs water glasses.
βYou know,β she says, grinning, βI always thought you and Chan would end up together.β
The table goes briefly, awkwardly quiet. Your chopsticks pause halfway to your mouth.
βBut seeing you with Seungmin nowβ¦β She gestures vaguely between you two. βYou suit each other so well. It just makes sense.β
Time seems to slow for a second.
You risk a glance at Chan. Heβs frozen, jug in hand, expression carefully blank. Then he clears his throat, smile returning a fraction too bright.
βYeah,β he says, voice light. βThey do.β
Heat rushes to your face. You open your mouth to deflect, but Seungmin beats you to it. He simply reaches over and casually adjusts the collar of your shirt, fingers deft, like heβs done it a thousand times before.
βObviously,β he says. βSheβd be miserable with anyone else.β
You choke. βExcuse me?β
He gives you an innocent look. βWhat? Youβd be late, unhydrated, and your ankle would definitely be in pieces by now.β
βWow,β you say. βRomantic.β
He leans in, voice dropping just low enough for only you to hear. βYou know what I mean.β
You do. Your cheeks burn, but you canβt stop smiling.
Across the table, Chan watches for a moment, then looks down at his plate. When he looks up again, he catches your eye and gives you a small, genuine smile. Thereβs a hint of sadness lingering at the edges, but it no longer feels like an open woundβ more like an old scar you both acknowledge.
You smile back, and that feels like its own kind of ending.
౨ΰ§
Later that night, you and Seungmin walk home together. The city is quieter, streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement. He hooks his pinky through yours, swinging your hands between you.
βTired?β he asks.
βA bit,β you admit. βYou?β
βIβve been tired since 2018,β he says. βItβs my personality now.β
You snort.
He glances at you, then gently tugs you closer, slipping his arm around your shoulders. You melt into the warmth instinctively, head resting against his shoulder.
βHey,β he says.
βHmm?β
βIf youβre tired,β he continues, βlean on me. Iβll carry the heavy stuff. You just have to walk next to me.β
The words are simple, almost off-hand, but they land somewhere deep, somewhere that remembers late nights in studios and unanswered wishes and the feeling of always coming second to something you couldnβt compete with.
You look up at him, your chest full.
βOkay,β you say. βBut only if you let me carry yours too.β
He smiles, a small, secret thing. βDeal.β
You walk the rest of the way like thatβ in step, shoulders touching, the future not some grand, glittering promise, but a series of ordinary nights like this one. Quiet, honest, shared.
In a studio several floors above, Chan sits alone in front of his computer, headphones on, a half-finished melody looping gently. Through the window, he can just make out the street below, two small figures walking side by side.
He watches you both for a moment, something bittersweet tugging at his ribs. Then he smiles to himself, presses play, and gets back to work.
Heβd made his choice years ago.
You made yours now.
And for the first time, all the timelines sit comfortably together in your chestβ the girl who once stood under harsh studio lights with her heart in her hands, the woman now leaning under the soft glow of a streetlamp against someone who always, unfailingly, shows up.
Good for you. Bittersweet for him.
But right for everyone.
You tighten your arm around Seungminβs waist, and he squeezes your shoulder in reply, as if to say, Iβm here.
hyunjin thought a group day off would be easy. until he realised he canβt skate, he canβt hide his feelings, and he definitely canβt handle you smiling at someone else. good thing holiday magic and his generous heart gives him the courage he needs.
pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader
wc: 3.3k
tags: fluff, f2l, assumed unrequited feelings, awkward and jealous hyunjin, platonic ot7 (which is a tag in and of itself) | divider creds @lariesographic !
β day ten of a very merry kpopmas!! thank u larie and angel for organising this <3 β
hyunjin wasnβt expecting good news when he checked the schedule that morning. he was still half-asleep, hair tied up messily, unevenly buttoned pyjama shirt sliding off one shoulder as he shuffled into the kitchen. changbin was already there with coffee, humming something aggressively off-key.
βdid you look?β changbin asked, eyes sparkling with drama.
βlook at what?β hyunjin mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
βthe schedule, god. open your phone.β
hyunjin did, thumb tapping lazily through the notificationsβuntil he froze.
day off for the entire group. today. as a treat :)
he blinked. then blinked again, like the letters were an illusion brought on by sleep deprivation.
βweβreβ¦ off?β he whispered.
changbin nodded as if announcing the birth of a royal heir. βchan said we should all do something together. like, group bonding, christmas vibe.β
hyunjinβs brain shouldβve gone straight to: cool, where are we going? instead, it smacked into a brick wall labeled you.
you, his best friend.
you, the person heβd been hopelessly in love with long before he wanted to admit it to himself.
you, who smiled at him like he painted constellations across your sky, even though he was 99% sure you meant it platonically. maybe. probably.
hopefully not.
every time he thought about confessing, he got dizzy and had to lie down.
βyou should invite her,β changbin said casually, sipping his coffee.
hyunjin nearly choked on air. βwhatβ whyβ how do you evenβ i didnβtβ thatβsβ no?β
changbin stared at him, blinking slowly. his disposition yelled βlets be for real rnβ¦β
βyou talk about her like sheβs a deity you worship.β
βi do not,β hyunjin muttered weakly.
βyou do,β changbin repeated. βyesterday you said her laugh could reverse global warming.β
βi was jokingββ
βyou were blushing.β
hyunjin groaned, burying his face in his hands. he wanted to invite you. he wanted you there for everything, always. but asking felt dangerous, like tipping the entire balance of your i-want-to-be-more-than-friends-but-iβm-not-quite-sure-where-she-stands relationship.
still⦠a small part of him wanted to risk it.
so when he finally stepped onto the balcony, scrolling to your name on his contact list, his heart was beating so stupidly fast he thought it might actually escape through his throat.
he called before he could chicken out.
you picked up on the second ring. βhey jinnie!β
suddenly, every word he knew how to speak died in his throat.
βuhβ¦ everything okay?β
your voice did something devastating to him. he leaned against the railing of the dorm balcony, trying to breathe like a normal human being.
βuhβ yeah,β he said, which was a lie because his pulse was tap dancing. βwe got the day off! all of us. and weβre gonna go out. likeβ¦ ice skating or something? if you, um. if you wanted to come.β
there was a beat of silence, and he panicked immediately.
βyou donβt have to!β he rushed out. βlike, seriously, donβt feel pressuredββ
βhyunjin.β
the way you said his nameβsoft, fond, like it belonged to youβshut his mouth instantly.
βiβd love to come,β you said.
relief flooded him so fast he nearly slid down the wall. βokay. cool. great. awesome. uhβi donβt know when weβre leaving? hold onββ
he moved the phone away from his face:
βCHANGBIN!! WHEN ARE WE LEAVING?!β
an echo ofβunintelligible, yet undeniably changbinβsβyelling coursed out of your phone speaker. the normalcy in their chaotic interactions would always amuse you.
ββhe said weβre all leaving in like an hour? you all good to come here around then?β
βyes of course,β you laughed. βi missed your face.β
he stared out at the morning sky, cheeks warming. βyeah. i, uhβ¦ i missed you too.β
too much, maybe. but he couldnβt say that part.
when you arrived at the dorm later, bundled in a scarf and smiling at him, every coherent thought hyunjin had evaporated instantly.
changbin leaned against the wall behind him and whispered, βclose your mouth, romeo.β
hyunjin kicked him lightly without breaking eye contact with youβbecause you were already walking toward him, and god, he really hoped you couldnβt hear his heart pounding like an audition drummer.
βhey! we ready to go?β changbin greeted you, giving a casual hug.
βyeah! iβve never skated before though, so iβm a little nervous,β you toyed with the ends of your scarf, laughing anxiously, βi donβt want to eat shit and embarrass myself.β
βiβm sure youβll be fineβ hyunjin can help you!β he replied, smacking between hyunjinβs shoulder blades, snapping him out of his trance.
βuhβyeah! yeah i canβ¦β
this was going to be the most embarrassing experience of his life.
the rink looked like something out of a winter postcardβgold fairy lights, drifting snow, soft music playing from hidden speakers. kids wobbled across the ice with unearned confidence; couples glided like they practiced it for years; the rest of the boys were already arguing about who would fall first.
βitβll so be han,β chan said.
βno way! itβll be you chan,β jisung gasped and shot back.
βitβll be hyunjin,β jeongin added immediately.
hyunjin gasped. βwhy me?!β
βyour center of gravity disappears when you panic,β felix laughed, patting his shoulder.
βi donβt panic,β hyunjin insisted.
you snorted softly. he ignored it as a matter of emotional survival.
the moment everyone laced up their skates, hyunjin feltβ¦ unsafe. profoundly unsafe. the ground was already too slippery, and he hadnβt even stepped onto the actual ice yet.
you nudged him lightly. βyou okay?β
βiβm a dancer,β he said, as if reminding the universe. βi should be able to do this.β
seungmin passed by, deadpanning: βyou say that every year. itβs never true.β
before hyunjin could argue, you stepped onto the ice. and youβ¦ didnβt wobble. nor did you flail. and not a single scream was heard.
you glided. carefully at first, then smoother, turning experimentally like youβd just unlocked a hidden skill tree.
hyunjin stared at you, stunned. βwait. you told me youβve never done this before!β
βi havenβt,β you laughed, pushing off your own feet again. βbut it doesnβt seem to be that hard once you get going.β
his jaw worked silently like his words were buffering.
he placed one foot on the iceβ and immediately slipped, arms flinging out in a dramatic windmill that almost took felix down with him.
βokayβ okayβ hold onβ hold onββ he panted, scrambling for the railing, knees bowing inward as he tried to pull himself up. βwhyβs itβ whyβs it doing that?β
βbecause youβre moving too much,β minho replied smugly, skating past with the elegance of someone who had lived on ice in a past life.
you blinked. βwait, minho, youβre good at this?β
βhm? oh.β minho shrugged casually, skating backwards. βyeah. i used to come all the time.β
then he looked at you, letting his gaze flick briefly to your feet. βyouβre good too. natural talent.β
you smiled at him, bright and easy. βthanksβ thatβs sweet.β
and hyunjinβs soul left his body. he wasnβt proud of what washed through himβthis warm, sharp fizz in his chest, like jealousy disguised as soft drink foamβbut he felt it anyway. he clung to the railing, watching the two of you talk while his skates tried to murder him for free.
felix reappeared at his side, voice gentle. βyou okay?β
βno,β hyunjin whispered. then louder: βi mean yes. fine. perfect. incredible.β
βhyune,β felix said softly, βyour eye is twitching.β
βis it?β hyunjin asked weakly.
βyes. very much.β
across the rink, you and minho skated in a little looping pathβhim correcting your stance once, you copying it flawlessly, both of you laughing hard when jisung crashed somewhere behind you. he heard you laugh at a comment made about jisung not being one for sports.
hyunjin wanted to be happy for you. he was happy that you got along with his members. but also that feeling once again churned in his stomachβ
felix leaned closer. βyou could go skate with her, you know.β
βi canβt skate,β hyunjin muttered, feeling totally humiliated and defeated.
βyou could try.β
βand fall in front of her? no thank you.β
felix considered this. βshe thinks everything you do is cute.β
hyunjin nearly choked. βshe does notββ
βhyunjin,β felix said, amusement spilling into his voice, βyouβre the only person here who doesnβt know that she likes you.β
hyunjin froze. actually froze. he forgot how to breathe, forgot the concept of oxygen temporarily.
βfelix.β
βhm?β
βdonβt say things like that unless you have scientific evidence.β
felix pointed toward youβwhere you were looking at hyunjin, smiling softly, your face full of awe. you cocked your head, beckoning him your way. you were waiting for him to join you.
βthereβs your evidence.β
hyunjinβs heart somersaulted. then tripped. then hit a wall.
βokay,β he murmured. βokay, iβllβ iβll go over. eventually. when i can move without embarrassing myself.β
βno, now,β felix said, scooting behind him and giving the smallest, most traitorous push.
hyunjin yelped, flailing into motion.
you skated toward him immediately, laughing when he grabbed your forearms like they were his personal life preservers.
βiβve got you,β you giggled. βyou baby.β
he stared at you, overwhelmed, flustered, and totally melting despite the cold.
yeah. he was really, seriously, undeniably in love with you.
you kept hyunjin upright for a full lap, which, considering gravityβs apparent vendetta against him, was genuinely impressive. he gripped your hands like the ice would open a sinkhole beneath him at any momentβin a way that made your pulse flutter embarrassingly fast.
every time you steadied him, he mumbled some variation of βiβm fine,β βi wasnβt falling,β or βthat was intentional,β which only made you smile harder.
and hyunjin⦠god. he felt all of it.
he felt the warmth of your fingers through your gloves.
he felt his jealousy gnawing inside him where he wished confidence lived.
he felt your laughter settle in his chest and make itself at home.
when you skated ahead a littleβjust to test your balanceβminho drifted beside hyunjin once more, slow and casual.
hyunjin side-eyed him, proving his point. minho smirked.
βyou have nothing to worry about, hyunjin. i have no intention of swooping in, or whatever youβre overthinking aboutβwhich i know you are before you complain that you arenβt.β
before hyunjin could argue further, chan skated upβsignificantly less gracefully than minho, but with leader energy that suggested he had a plan.
βbreak time,β chan announced. βmy knees hurt and i refuse to tear a ligament before christmas.β
everyone chorused agreement. your face lit up.
as the nine of you walked toward the exit after handing in your skates to the clerk, you and felix started some sort of conversation as you unintentionally led the group to the exit.
hyunjin lingered back as jisung nudged him from behind. βso,β he whispered, βwhen are you gonna tell her youβre in love with her?β
hyunjin stepped wrong and nearly folded in half. βiβ whatβ iβm NOTβ donβt SAY thatββ
jisung blinked, feigning innocence. his tone was soaked in sarcasm. βoh. sorry. i forgot it was a secret from yourself.β
changbin laughed, clapping hyunjinβs back, similar to that morning. βyouβre painfully obvious, dude.β
βiβm notββ
βshe looks at you like you hung the moon,β jeongin chimed in, beaming.
hyunjin opened and closed his mouth. no sound came out. shock had killed language.
βokay, okay,β chan cut in, raising his hands. βenough bullying for now. look.β
he pointed toward the far end of the plaza, where rows of christmas market stalls lined the snowy walkwayβstring lights overhead, warm scents drifting through the cold.
you inhaled softly. βohβ those are pretty.β
you didnβt say you wanted to see each stall. you didnβt have to.
three things happened at once unspokenly:
all seven boys noticed your expression,
all seven boys looked at hyunjin,
all seven boys decided to disappear.
totally βaccidentally,β of course.
βweβre gonna check out the food trucks,β chan announced. βright? guys?β
βi saw a stall selling corndogs,β felix added.
βi need hot chocolate,β minho deadpanned, rubbing his cold hands together.
βi need privacy,β seungmin said, glancing between you and hyunjin pointedly.
hyunjin felt panic crawl up his spine. βwhβ waitβ guysβ donβt justββ
but it was too late. they were gone, vanished like a team of elves whoβd completed their mission successfully.
you looked at him, hands tucked into your sleeves, breath puffing into the cold air. βdo you wannaβ¦ look at the stalls? we donβt have to buy anything. just walkβ¦ unless youβre hungry, we can follow them! i donβt mindβ¦ i can just come back another timeβ¦β
hyunjinβs heart pressed itself against his ribs like it wanted out.
βi want to stay with you,β he murmured. βiβd like to do what you want with you.β
he missed how flushed you became.
so the two of you began walkingβslowly, gently, side by sideβyour shoulders brushing now and then, each touch sending a ripple of warmth through both of you.
he kept glancing at you when he thought you werenβt looking. you kept smiling when you caught him anyway.
and somewhere behind the hot chocolate stand, the rest of the members peeked around the corner like spies surveilling a fragile diplomatic negotiation.
βstep one complete,β jisung whispered dramatically. βthe oblivious idiots are alone.β
βstep two,β chan said, βis letting them think we didnβt plan it.β
βwe absolutely planned it,β minho replied.
felix giggled. βtheyβre so cute.β
you and hyunjin walked slowly, side by side, your elbows brushing each time one of you stepped around a child or a bundled-up couple.
βyour cheeks are really pink,β you murmured.
βitβs cold,β hyunjin said too quickly.
it was not the cold. it was you. he was very aware of this and desperately hoping you didnβt catch his white lie.
you stopped at a stall filled with delicate glass ornamentsβhand-painted, shimmering under the string lights. you picked one up shaped like a small sprig of mistletoe, blown in pale green glass with tiny white beads for berries.
βohβ¦ this is so cute,β you whispered, turning it gently in your hands.
hyunjin watched you, watched the way your eyes softened, watched you fall in love with something that fit perfectly with the warmth you carried everywhere you went.
βyou should get it,β he encouraged quietly.
you shook your head, smiling ruefully. βmm, itβs really pretty butβ¦ itβs too expensive. i shouldnβt.β
he wanted to say: but you deserve everything you reach for. instead he said nothing, just nodded as you placed it back carefully, and a little sadly.
you walked on to the next stallβcandles, then knitted scarves, then little trinketsβbut hyunjin lingered behind.
the vendor looked at him knowingly. βfor her?β
hyunjin flushed immediately. βiβ wellβ she liked it.β
βpeople donβt light up like that over just anything,β the vendor said, wrapping the ornament before hyunjin even finished deciding.
he paid quickly, tucking the little paper bag into his coat pocket before jogging to catch up with you.
βthere you are,β you laughed. βi thought i lost you.β
βno, no, i was justβ¦ looking.β β a terrible lie. his voice trembled as if honesty was leaking through the cracks.
you continued your slow stroll until the crowd thinned, leaving a quiet corner near the end of the marketβsoft lights overhead, a small tree decorated with ribbons.
that was where hyunjin finally cleared his throat.
βhey,β he murmured, sounding shy even to himself. βcan iβ¦ give you something?β
you blinked in surprise as he pulled out the tiny paper bag. your brows lifted as you opened it, careful fingers peeling back the tissue.
βhyunjinβ¦β your voice softened instantly. βyou didnβtβ¦β
βyou liked it,β he said, trying not to rub the back of his neck anxiously. βand i wanted you to have it. itβs nothing, really. if it makes you happy, thenβ¦ thatβs a good enough reason to get it for me.β
your heart pressed hard against your chest. βhyunjin, itβs not nothingββ
βit is,β he insisted quietly. βcompared to your happiness.β
his face went red immediately. βi meanβ compared toβ iβ that sounded weirdββ
you laughed softly, stepping closer, close enough that your breath warmed the air between you.
you lifted the ornament, holding it above the two of you. βit looks like mistletoe, doesnβt it?β
hyunjin stopped breathing. your fingers toyed with the red ribbon as it spun in the air between your flushed faces.
βyeah,β he whispered. βitβ¦ it does.β
you leaned upβslow, giving him time to pull awayβand kissed his cheek, dangerously close to his lips, soft as snowfall.
his eyes fluttered shut, his whole body going still, like that tiny touch had rearranged the universe.
βthank you, jinnie,β you murmured, lowering the ornament. βitβs perfect.β
hyunjin opened his eyes, and something brave flickered in them.
βi wish that wasnβt a cheek kiss,β he blurted out.
your breath hitched. βoh?β
he swallowed so hard it looked like it hurt. βiβ¦ like you. i really like you. more than iβm supposed to. and i didnβt want to make things weird, or ruin anything, or confuse you. i value our friendship so much, but iβ i think about you all the time. and i didnβt know if you liked me back, and everyone kept saying you did, but iββ
you pressed a hand to his chest, gentle. his heart hammered under your palm. you stepped closer into his space.
βhyunjin,β you whispered. βi like you too.β
he stared at you, stunned. βwait. seriously? likeβ like-like?β
βyes,β you laughed. βvery much like-like.β
a disbelieving smile bloomed across his faceβwide, boyish, bright enough to melt the frost around you.
βcan iββ he whispered, leaning in, βmake it a real kiss this time?β
βplease.β
this time, he kissed youβsoft, trembling, warm despite the cold, a perfect collision of relief and wonder and feelings youβd both been carrying too long. it was a short and sweet kiss, almost like he was adjusting to the fact that this was still the real world and not a dream.
and when you pulled back, he kept his forehead resting against yours, smiling like he was finally able to exhale.
βiβve wanted that for too long.β
hyunjin kept your hand in his long after the kiss endedβlike he was afraid letting go would wake him from whatever dream heβd slipped into. his thumb brushed over your knuckles every few steps, tentative, reverent, amazed.
heβd been hopelessly in love with you quietly for so long that walking beside you like this felt unreal, like a future he never let himself imagine was suddenly unfolding without resistance.
βtheyβre gonna tease us so bad,β you murmured, smiling down at your joined hands.
βi donβt care,β hyunjin said too quickly. too honestly. βnot anymore.β
the two of you rounded the corner toward the food trucksβand immediately spotted seven heads duck down behind a stand like a bunch of spies who did not understand the concept of cover.
felix popped up first, saw your hands, and shrieked. actually shrieked.
βTHEYβRE HOLDING HANDS.β
βfelix!β minho hissed, yanking him back down by the hood.
but it was too late; chaos erupted instantly.
jisung emerged dramatically, clutching his heart. βi knew it. i KNEW it. destiny is real.β
jeongin fist-pumped the air. βfinally!β
chan dragged a hand down his face, muttering something like, βthank god, now we can stop pretending they arenβt stupid.β
seungmin took one look at your interlocked fingers and nodded like heβd solved a mystery. βtold you. pure heart eyes.β
you covered your face with your free hand. hyunjin, unfortunately for him, couldnβtβhis hand was still trapped in yours, and his panic had nowhere to go.
βcan we notββ he tried, already blushing up to his ears.
βNO,β changbin yelled, pointing a finger of fate at him. βyou donβt get to ask for peace. youβve been in love with her sinceβ whatβ march?β
βfebruary,β jisung corrected. βremember that time he talked about her smile for thirty straight minutes when we were trying to record?β
βhe said βher smile feels like when a candle is first lit,ββ felix recited dreamily.
βi DID NOTββ hyunjin tried to protest, but you squeezed his hand gently, saving him from spontaneous combustion.
you giggled softly. βcandles, huh?β
he buried his face in your shoulder. βiβm never talking again.β
βyou say that every time youβre embarrassed,β minho said, sipping his hot chocolate.
βand every time you fail,β seungmin added.
the boys formed a loose circle around you bothβsome teasing, some smiling softly, some just warmed by the moment. there was no pressure, no spotlight, just affectionate chaos.
after the excitement had died down and the circle had dispersed, hyunjin finally lifted his head from your shoulder. you turned toward him, brushing a stray snowflake off his hair.
he looked at you like he still couldnβt believe you were real.
chan clapped his hands once, gathering everyoneβs attention. βokay, now that our resident lovebirds have finally confessed, whoβs ready for corndogs and more skating?β
hyunjin stiffened. βiβm not skating again.β
βyou are,β minho said.
βabsolutely not.β
βiβll hold your hand,β you offered.
hyunjin paused.
ββ¦okay maybe,β he murmured.
the group erupted into groans and cheers.
and as the eight of you walked back toward the rinkβyour hand snug in hyunjinβs, his smile soft and unguardedβnothing felt cold anymore.
α΄‘α΄ΚΙ΄ΙͺΙ΄Ι’κ±: slightly suggestive but other than that nothing~~
α΄Ι΄: these are actually so fun! i want to do more but im lowkey pulling a blank (ΛΜ£Μ£Μ₯α― ΛΜ£Μ£Μ₯) if you have requests please lmk!! ALSO there is a slide abt tate mcrae you do NOT have to read it- i skip over most of it in the sc bc it was just for the plot! again you're under no obligation to read it ദΰ΅ΰ΄¦ΰ΄Ώ( β’ α΄ < )
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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SUMMARY: If the world wasn't going to bring positivity to you. You'll have to make it on your own.
Note: please ignore any mistakes or inaccuracies. If you saw them no you did not πββοΈ I am doing these for a silly goofy time and they are not meant to be taken seriously.
Bang Chan | Lee Know | Changbin Pt.1 | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | I.N
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
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Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
WARNINGS: This fanfic contains explicit sexual content (including masturbation, oral sex, penetrative sex, dirty talk, and detailed intimate scenes), strong language, and adult themes. Intended for readers 18+ only. All interactions are consensual. Proceed with discretion.
Only for adults (18+). If any of this is offensive to you or if you're under 18, please don't view it! All based on fictional events, none of this is real.
NOTE: This fanfic it does not portray the members of Stray Kids as idols, but as fictional characters. I hope you enjoy the journey!
SUMMARY: You reluctantly take in Lee Know as your new flatmate after your best friend Han suggests him to help with skyrocketing rent. What starts as a chilly, distant cohabitationβmarked by Lino's cat-like privacy and minimal interactionsβevolves into something deeper when a bad cold reveals his caring side. As shared anime nights, home-cooked meals, and sweet notes bridge the gap, unspoken attraction builds into steamy tension. But when fantasies turn real and secrets spill, will their living arrangement survive the heat?
It all started a few months ago, when the rent for your apartment in the city became an unbearable burden. You lived alone, but the price was drowning you, and although you'd posted ads looking for a female roommate to feel more comfortable βsomeone to chat about girl stuff with, share routines, and not worry about awkward tensionsβ, no one responded. Your best friend, Han Jisung, noticed your stress during one of your late-night calls.
-Hey, what if I help you? I know someone who needs a place urgently. It's my best friend, Lee Know. He's a great guy, really, and very clean. You won't regret it-
At first, you hesitated.
-A guy? I don't know, Han... I wanted a girl to feel more at ease- But the rent didn't wait, and Lino needed to move quickly due to problems in his old place. You agreed, thinking it would be temporary.
The day he arrived, Lino was polite but distant: a brief greeting, a quick smile that didn't reach his cat-like eyes, and he locked himself in his room to unpack. He was handsome, with that mysterious air, dark hair, sharp features like a cat's, and a stealthy way of moving, as if he was always calculating his next step. But from the beginning, you noticed his personality: he loved his privacy. He avoided sharing common spaces with you, as if you were two shadows in the same apartment.
The first months were cold. Lino left early for his job (something related to music production, according to Han), and came back late. If you ran into each other in the kitchen, he'd prepare something quick and slip away to his room with a vague excuse. You tried to break the ice: "How was your day, Lino? Did you see that new series on Netflix?". He'd respond with a polite but distant smile: "Fine, thanks. No, I didn't see it". And poof, he'd disappear. In the living room, if you were watching TV, he'd pass by with a minimal greeting. You felt like you were living with a polite ghost.
You complained to Han on the phone one night.
-It's impossible to get close to your friend, Han. He's like a stray cat that doesn't want to be touched. He always dodges me, and when I talk, he gives vague answers and leaves.
Han laughed, but encouraged you.
-Give him time, babe. Lino is like that at first: closed off, he protects his space like it's sacred. But once he opens up, he's the best. He's loyal, affectionate, and cooks like a chef. He just needs to feel comfortable. Keep trying, you'll see it's worth it.
One day, everything changed. You didn't go to work because a cold had hit you hard: low fever, throat irritated like sandpaper, and a tiredness that kept you glued to the sofa. You covered yourself with an old blanket, surrounded by used tissues, and put on a comforting anime on TV, one of those with epic stories and characters that distracted you from the discomfort. Lino didn't expect to see you; he was coming back early from an unexpected day off, and you didn't hear him enter until the door closed.
He entered the living room and stopped dead, his cat-like eyes widening at seeing you curled up, with a pale face and glassy eyes. He noticed the mess of tissues and your exhausted expression. For the first time, his cold facade cracked; genuine concern crossed his face.
-Hey... are you okay? You don't look good-, he said, his voice soft but firm, approaching cautiously, as if he didn't want to invade your space.
You tried to respond, but your voice came out gravelly and hoarse, each word scraping your throat.
-Just a cold... It hurts to talk.
He frowned, coming closer.
-Don't talk much then. Do you have medicine? Have you eaten anything today?.
You shook your head, admitting it.
-No... I haven't had the strength to get up. I've just been here..
His concern increased visibly; his eyes darkened with a protective instinct you hadn't seen before.
-That's not right. Stay calm, I'm going out to buy you medicine and ingredients to make you a good dinner. To help with the cold, chicken soup with ginseng, that always works-
You tried to protest, not wanting to be a bother.
-No, Lino, really... I don't want to infect you. I'll go to my room so I don't bother you.
But he shook his head, firm but gentle.
-Don't even think about moving. You're not a bother, and I won't get infected. Just relax.
He left, and half an hour later he came back loaded with shopping bags.
-I have everything: fever pills, throat syrup, and ingredients for the soup. I also saw that you always have these snacks in the cupboard, I figured they're your favorites, so I brought more for you to eat something while I cook.
You were left speechless, wondering if you were hallucinating from the fever. Was this the same distant Lino? He gave you the pills with a glass of water.
-Take this first, it'll help with the pain.
While he disappeared into the kitchen, you heard the comforting sound of knives chopping vegetables, the fire turning on, and the aroma of garlic, ginger, and chicken filling the air. He was a great cook, as Han had said, precise movements, as if the kitchen was his territory.
At one point, he poked his head out.
-I'm going to prepare a bath for you. A hot bath will make you feel better, it relaxes the muscles and helps with congestion.
He filled the bathtub, adjusting the water to the perfect temperature, and then helped you up from the sofa with a gentle hand on your arm.
-Lean on me if you need to.
He guided you to the bathroom, and before closing the door, you said with a weak voice:
-Thanks, Lino... Really, I didn't expect this.
He smiled for the first time genuinely, a playful glint in his eyes.
-Don't mention it. Just... don't get used to it, huh? But seriously, relax. The soup will be ready when you get out.
You came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, feeling a bit better, the steam had relieved your congestion, and the aroma of the soup made your mouth water. Lino had transformed the living room: the blanket was folded, the tissues picked up, and on the coffee table there was a steaming bowl of soup, with tender chicken pieces, fresh vegetables, and a boiled egg on top.
-Sit down- he said, guiding you to the sofa. -Try this. It's my grandmother's recipe, full of ginseng for energy and ginger for the throat.
You sat down, taking a sip, and the flavor was comforting, warm and spicy just right.
-It's... incredible, Lino. Thanks. I didn't know you cooked like this.
He sat on the other end of the sofa, keeping a respectful distance, but for the first time he didn't slip away.
-I like cooking. It's therapeutic. Do you feel better?.
You nodded, and you chatted a bit, nothing deep, but more than usual. You told him about the anime you were watching, and he tilted his head:
-Ah, that one. I watched it a while ago. It's good for days like this.
When you finished the soup, he insisted you take more medicine.
-Don't be stubborn. This will help you sleep.
The night went on with him taking care of you subtly: he brought you a fresh blanket, adjusted the TV so you could keep watching your anime, and even prepared an herbal tea.
-Don't worry about the dishes, I'll wash them- he said when you tried to help. In a moment of silence, you looked at him.
-Lino, why are you doing all this? I thought... well, that you preferred your space, you don't have to go to so much trouble for me.
He shrugged, with a shy smile.
-I do prefer it, yes. But I'm not a monster. If you're sick, I'm not going to ignore you. Besides... Han would kill me if I don't take care of his friend.
You laughed, and for the first time, you felt a glimpse of warmth in him. At the end of the night, he walked you to your room.
-Sleep well. If you need anything, just shout.
You got into bed, astonished by this side of Lino you'd never seen.
Days later, the cold was gone, but something changed in Lino. He started getting closer, like a cat deciding you're worthy of his trust. One night, seeing you in the living room with anime, he sat next to you.
-Hey, are you still watching that? I'm a fan of Chainsaw Man and Jujutsu Kaisen. Want to watch one together?
You agreed, and it became a ritual: nights on the sofa, sharing popcorn, discussing plots. "That character is an idiot", he'd say with a dry laugh, revealing his playful side.
You noticed more gestures: Lino started cooking for both of you, especially if he got home before work and saw you exhausted.
-I made kimchi jjigae. Eat, you look dead tired-, he'd say, serving you a plate.
You also left notes in the kitchen βsimple things at first, like you writing: "Thanks for dinner yesterday, it was delicious". He'd reply: "You're welcome. Since you got home late last night, I thought you'd want to sleep in today. I left food in the fridge. Have a good day". Little by little, these gestures made you see Lino in a new light: his reserve became charm, his care became attractive. You started feeling butterflies, you liked him, in a way that surprised you.
One day, you got home early after a short shift, and just as you entered, Lino was coming out of the bathroom after a shower. He was only in low pajama pants, drying his hair with a towel, his torso exposed. You froze in the entrance, taking off your shoes slowly, your mouth dry at seeing him: broad shoulders, defined muscles in his chest and abs, not exaggerated, but toned, with smooth skin glistening from the water. You'd never seen him like this, and something inside you stirred, a heat rising in your belly.
-Hi- he said casually, not noticing your fixed gaze, and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. You stammered a "hi" and fled to your room, your heart pounding hard. From that day, the fantasies started: at night, you'd masturbate thinking of Lino, imagining him entering your room silently, kissing you urgently, fucking you against the kitchen counter while he cooked, or on the sofa during an anime night, his hands exploring your body. Or in the shower, water falling while he took you against the wall; or on the floor, raw and desperate. You'd lose your mind, touching yourself with eager fingers, moaning his name softly.
What you didn't know was that one of those nights, Lino heard you from his room. You thought he was asleep and that you weren't moaning loudly, but the sounds traveled through the thin wall: your soft gasps, the movement of the sheets. He stayed still in his bed, tense, his body reacting involuntarily. The next day, you noticed: Lino was more tense when talking to you, avoiding eye contact during breakfast.
-Everything okay?-, you asked.
-Yeah, just... tired-, he murmured, escaping quickly. The tension grew, an unspoken secret hanging in the air.
The following days were a subtle torture. You noticed Lino more distant than usual, but not like at the beginning, this time it was a palpable tension, as if something invisible hung between you. During breakfast, he evaded your gaze, answering your questions with monosyllables.
-Want to watch anime tonight?-, you asked one morning, pouring yourself coffee. He looked at his cup, stirring the sugar harder than necessary.
-Maybe. I have things to do-. He got up quickly, leaving his plate in the sink, and disappeared into his room. You were left confused, wondering if you'd done something wrong.
At night, your fantasies didn't stop. You'd imagine Lino bursting into your room, his cat-like eyes shining in the dark, his strong hands pinning you against the mattress while he fucked you with an intensity that left you breathless. Or in the kitchen, against the counter, his fingers sinking into your skin while he penetrated you, whispering dirty things in your ear. You'd moan softly, touching yourself urgently, but you tried to be more discreet after noticing his change. What you didn't know was that Lino, in his adjacent room, heard you again some nights, not always, but enough to make his mind spin. He'd stay awake, tense in bed, his body betraying him with an erection he couldn't ignore, imagining what made you moan like that.
He turned, but his gaze shifted quickly, as if looking at you directly burned him.
-No need. Just... sit down.
He served two plates and you ate in silence at first, but the tension was thick. Finally, you couldn't take it anymore.
-Is something wrong? Lately you seem... distant. Did I do something that bothered you?
Lino stopped, his chopsticks halfway. His eyes met yours for a second, something intense shining in them, a mix of frustration and repressed desire.
-It's not that. Just... I've been thinking about things-. He paused, as if debating whether to say more. -Hey, are you okay? Sometimes... at night, I hear you... I don't know, like you're restless.
Your heart raced βhad he heard you? You tried to play it off.
-Ah, that... Probably just snoring or something. Or work nightmares, you know how it is.
He nodded, but didn't seem convinced, and the rest of dinner was awkward, with stolen glances and a loaded silence.
Despite the tension, the rituals continued. One night, you decided to watch anime together 'Jujutsu Kaisen', one of his favorites. You sat on the sofa, with a shared blanket because of the cold, and Lino settled closer than usual, his leg brushing yours accidentally. The episode was intense, but you were distracted by his proximity: the heat of his body, the subtle scent of soap and something inherently masculine. In a moment of action on screen, you exclaimed:
-God, that power is brutal!
He laughed, a low and playful sound you rarely heard.
-Yes, but the protagonist is an idiot. He should be more strategic.
The night advanced, and for the first time, you chatted deeper. You told him about your stressful day at work, and he listened attentively, offering dry but useful advice.
-Don't let them walk all over you. Be firm, like me with my privacy.
You joked:
-Speaking of that, at first I thought you were a hermit.
He smiled sideways.
-I am. When I don't know the person, but.. with you, it's different now.
The air got charged, and when the episode ended, neither of you moved. Your hands brushed under the blanket, and you felt a shiver. Lino cleared his throat.
-Good night, then.
He got up, but his gaze lingered a second too long, as if he wanted to say something.
That night, your fantasies were more vivid: you imagined that instead of leaving, Lino kissed you on the sofa, his lips claiming yours while his hands explored under your clothes, fucking you right there, slow at first, then with urgency, his hips crashing against yours. You moaned a little louder than planned, lost in the pleasure, but you cut it short quickly, panting in the darkness.
The next day, Lino left a note in the kitchen: "I made extra breakfast. Eat before you go. And... if you need to talk about something, I'm here". It was subtle, but you felt he knew more than he said.
The tension had been building like a silent storm, and it finally exploded on an ordinary night, a few days after that note in the kitchen that left you wondering what Lino knew exactly. You got home late, after an impromptu outing with friends βnothing special, just some drinks to unwind from workβ, and the apartment was in dim light, illuminated only by the soft light of a lamp in the living room. Lino was there, sitting on the sofa with a book in his hands, but he didn't seem to be reading really; his cat-like eyes were fixed on the pages, but his posture was rigid, as if he was waiting for something. Or someone.
You closed the door carefully, taking off your coat and shoes, and noticed how he slowly lifted his gaze, his expression a mix of curiosity and something deeper, more guarded.
-You're late-, he said in a neutral voice, but there was a nuance in his tone βnot reproach, but subtle concern, like always when he worried about you without admitting it directly.
-Yeah, I was with Han and some friends. Nothing crazy, just chatting- you replied, trying to sound casual as you approached the sofa. You sat on the opposite end, leaving a space between you, but the air felt charged, as if that meter of distance was filled with unspoken words.
Lino closed the book with a deliberate movement, placing it on the coffee table, and turned slightly toward you. His eyes, those sharp eyes that always seemed to see more than they said, met yours for a moment before shifting to the dark window.
-Sounds good. Han always drags people into his craziness-, he murmured with a small, playful but fleeting smile. He paused, drumming his fingers on his knee, a rare habit for him, who was usually so controlled. -Hey... can I ask you something? Straight up.
Your heart skipped a beat. You knew this was coming, from that awkward conversation in the kitchen days ago.
-Sure, shoot-, you said, trying to keep your voice light, though you felt a knot in your stomach. Lino cleared his throat, looking at the floor now, as if choosing his words cost him effort, which fit his personality, always protecting his vulnerability.
-Lately... I've noticed you don't sleep well. I hear you at night, through the wall. At first I thought it was the cold coming back, or maybe work stress. But... it doesn't sound like that. It sounds like... something more personal.
Heat rose up your neck, and you felt your cheeks burn. You tried to play it off with a nervous laugh:
-Ah, that... Probably just snoring or something. Or work nightmares, you know how it is.
But Lino didn't bite; he lifted his gaze, and this time it held yours, intense but not aggressive, like a cat assessing whether to approach or flee.
-I'm not stupid, you know? The walls are thin, and I live here. I can tell the difference between a snore and... well, someone dealing with something alone- He paused, his voice dropping to a murmur -It's not like I'm spying on you. Just... it worries me. If it's stress, or something bothering you, you can tell me. We're roommates, after all. And... friends, I guess, now.
The silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable, it was like he was giving you space to process, true to his reserved nature. You swallowed, debating internally. Admit that you'd been imagining him in those moments? It seemed like a huge leap, but the way he looked at you, with that genuine concern mixed with something raw and unspoken, gave you courage.
-Okay, Lino... It's not nightmares. It's... more like thoughts I can't turn off. About someone. About... you, actually- The words came out rushed, and you regretted it instantly, but it was said.
Lino stayed still for a second, his eyes widening slightly, not with shock, but with an understanding that seemed to have been lurking in the background.
-Me- he repeated, blinking, more like a statement than a question. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that made him seem more human, less the distant cat from the early months.
-Since when? I mean... why me? I'm not the most open guy in the world- His tone was curious, almost playful on the edge, but there was vulnerability there, like he was testing the waters before diving in.
You shrugged, looking at your hands to avoid his gaze.
-Since that day you came out of the shower, with just the pants and towel. I'd never seen you like that, and... I don't know, something changed. You're reserved, yes, but also attentive, like when you took care of me with the cold. You cook for me, leave notes... It makes me see you differently. And at night, my mind wanders-. You paused, your heart pounding hard. -It's not that I expect anything. It just... happens-.
Lino didn't respond right away; instead, he moved a little closer on the sofa, shortening the distance without invading. You could smell his scent, clean soap mixed with something warm, like the tea he always made.
-I get it-, he said finally, his voice soft but with a husky nuance. -I've been... distracted too. Hearing you at night makes me think about things I shouldn't. Like, what makes you sound like that? Is it just imagination, or is there something real behind it?- He extended a hand tentatively, brushing your arm with his fingertips, a light, exploratory touch, not demanding. You felt a shiver run across your skin, and he noticed, withdrawing his hand but not pulling away.
-I don't know what to say-, you admitted, looking at him now. -It's confusing. We live together, and I don't want to ruin that.
Lino nodded, his expression softening into a small, almost shy smile.
-Me neither. But... maybe it doesn't ruin it. Maybe it just makes it better.
He leaned in a little more, his face inches from yours, giving you time to pull back if you wanted. You didn't. The kiss came gradually, his lips brushing yours first in a soft touch, testing, as if measuring your reaction. It was warm, with a control that fit him, but underneath there was a spark of repressed hunger.
When he pulled away, just a bit, he murmured against your mouth:
-Tell me if you want to stop- You shook your head, and the kiss deepened, his hands rising to your face to hold it gently. It wasn't an abrupt jump; it was a slow advance, built on weeks of tension, with pauses to breathe and glances that said more than words.
The kiss lingered on the sofa, with Lino maintaining that controlled rhythm that defined him, exploring with lips and tongue, but without rushing, as if savoring every second. His hands moved from your face to your shoulders, massaging gently, and you felt the heat of his body pressing against yours subtly.
-I didn't imagine it would be like this-, he murmured between kisses, his voice low and husky, with a playful touch. -I thought you were more... distant-
You laughed softly against his mouth.
-I'm the one who thought that about you.
He pulled away for a moment, looking at you with eyes darkened by desire, but still with that feline reserve.
-I want to know more about those thoughts of yours-, he said, his hand sliding down your arm to intertwine fingers with yours. -Just... what brings you back to me in your mind?
It was a curious question, not demanding, inviting you to open up at your own pace. You told him bits, the day of the shower, how his body had left you breathless, the notes in the kitchen that made you feel cared for. He listened, nodding, his thumb tracing circles on your palm.
Little by little, the touches became more intimate: his hand sliding up your back under your shirt, brushing bare skin, sending sparks down your spine.
-You're soft- he whispered, kissing now kissing your neck, slow and deliberate. You arched your neck, moaning softly, and he paused: -Too much?
-No... keep going-, you replied, guiding his hand lower. He explored with patience, his skilled fingers undoing buttons, revealing more skin. When he finally touched you more intimately, fingers brushing your belly, then lower, it was with a slowness that drove you crazy, building anticipation.
-Show me how you did it-, he suggested then, his voice a soft but loaded growl of playful curiosity, his eyes fixed on you with a feline intensity that made you feel exposed and desired at the same time. -When you imagined me at night... show me.
It was an invitation, not an order, but the husky nuance in his tone sent a pulse of heat straight to your core. You nodded, your heart pounding hard, and slid your hand under your skirt, feeling the wetness that had already built up just from his kisses and touches. Lino leaned back a bit on the sofa, watching you with that calculating gaze.
You started slow, rubbing soft circles over your clit through the fabric of your panties, a moan escaping your lips as you looked at him.
-Yes... I thought about you coming out of the shower, how your body looked so strong, so... accessible-, you confessed between gasps, speeding up a little. Lino swallowed visibly, his hand going to his own crotch to adjust, but not touching himself yet, he was holding back, true to his reserved nature, but his eyes were burning.
-Keep going-, he murmured, his voice deeper now. -Describe it to me. What did you imagine I did to you?
You pushed the fabric aside, slipping a finger inside yourself, feeling the slippery wetness that made the movement easy.
-I imagined you entering my room... kissing me like now, but then taking me against the wall, or on the bed, fucking me hard until I couldn't think of anything else.
Your words lit him up more, and Lino finally came closer, his hand covering yours, guiding it gently at first.
-Fuck, that sounds... intense- he said, with a low, playful laugh that contrasted with the desire in his voice. -Feel this.. like this, deeper- His fingers replaced yours, sinking into you with a precision that made you arch your back, a wet and obscene sound filling the living room. It was filthy, the way he explored, curling his fingers to brush that sensitive spot inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit in firm circles.
-You're dripping, you know? All because of thinking about me-, he growled, leaning in to kiss your neck while he finger-fucked you, slow but picking up the pace. You moaned louder:
-Lino... yes, just like that.
The tension exploded when he couldn't hold back anymore; he pulled out his fingers, glistening with your arousal, and licked them with a mischievous look that left you breathless.
-It tastes sweet... like you-, he murmured, before lowering his head between your legs, his tongue replacing his fingers. He was expert, licking with long, soft strokes at first, sucking on your clit until your hips bucked. -Relax, let me take care of you- he said between licks, his voice vibrating against you.
You grabbed his hair, guiding him.
-Harder... please- He obeyed, tongue-fucking your pussy, thrusting it deep while his fingers returned, creating a sticky mess of saliva and your wetness dripping onto the sofa.
It didn't take long before you came, the orgasm hitting you like a wave, your walls contracting around his fingers as you screamed his name. Lino lifted his head, lips shiny, and kissed you hungrily, letting you taste yourself on his mouth.
-That was... fuck, incredible-, he panted, his erection pressing hard against your thigh through his pants. You, still trembling, lowered your hand to palm him.
-Now you... I want to feel you- He groaned, helping you pull down his zipper, his cock springing free, thick, veiny, with precum dripping from the tip.
-Touch me... like you would in your thoughts-, he asked, his voice husky but with that playful control.
You jerked him off with firm strokes, feeling his heat and hardness, the precum lubricating your hand to slide easily.
-I imagined this inside me... fucking me deep- you confessed, speeding up. Lino groaned, his hips thrusting into your hand.
-Shit, yes... keep talking- But it didn't last long; he turned you gently but firmly, positioning you on the sofa so you were lying back, him kneeling between your legs.
-I want to fuck you now... if you want-, he said, seeking confirmation in your eyes. You nodded, desperate.
-Yes, Lino... do it.
He positioned himself, rubbing the tip of his cock against your soaked entrance, pushing just the head in, feeling how you opened for him.
-You're so tight... warm-, he murmured, leaning in to kiss you as he sank in inch by inch, a shared moan escaping both of you. It was slow at first, giving you time to adjust, his thrusts deep but controlled, as if measuring your every reaction.
-Feel how I fill you... -, he growled, speeding up gradually, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with your gasps. You wrapped your legs around his waist, scratching his back.
-Harder...
but obeyed, his hips moving with more force now, fucking you with a brutal rhythm that made the sofa creak.
-This is what you wanted, huh? Taking my cock so well-, he said, his voice dirty but with a caring nuance, kissing your collarbone while thrusting deep, feeling how your pussy squeezed him. Sweat covered his muscles, the same ones you'd fantasized about, flexing with each thrust. He changed the angle, hitting that perfect spot, and you screamed:
-Lino, I'm going to come!
He sped up, his balls slapping against you with wet sounds:
-Do it... come around me, squeeze me tight.
The climax hit you again, more intense, and Lino followed shortly after, grunting as he came inside you, hot spurts filling you, a sticky mess dripping down your thighs.
He stayed inside for a moment, breathing heavily, before pulling out with a wet pop. He kissed you softly now, the tender side returning:
-That was... more than I imagined.
They cuddled on the sofa, exhausted but content, with Lino tracing patterns on your skin.
-This changes everything... but I like it. And you?