#jaemin fluff

Jaemin stands somewhere in the middle of it all, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, barely bothered.

Haechan is already annoyed. Jeno is quieter, standing close enough to his girlfriend that they might as well merge into one at this point. Jaemin glances at them once, then forward again.

Start of spring energy. Everyone trying to squeeze something out of the night before everything resets into exams and exhaustion. The line inches forward. Warm air hits in waves whenever the door opens. Music follows it – heavy, messy, familiar.

Then when Jaemin’s in, noise swallows everything. Every corner is packed. Full tables, standing clusters, people leaning into each other and still shouting. The bar is already packed, orders shouted over each other, glasses clinking nonstop.

Jaemin steps further inside and blinks once, already knowing who to look for.

Same girl he’s been obsessing over for god knows how long.

He’s seen you plenty of times. Sometimes with Jisung, sometimes not. Sometimes in the library, others in the social studies building. Mostly he sees you here. Always behind the bar, barely smiling at customers. Always half-elsewhere even when you’re physically there.

He never fails to notice you for some reason. Never able to look away as fast as he’d like. First your posture. Not slouched exactly, but weighted, or bored. Like your body has learned how to keep functioning even when you’re past your limit.

Then your hands. Short nails. Practical length. Old polish chipped at the edges, like you painted them on a day you had energy and haven’t had another day like it since. You don’t even seem aware of it. Or maybe you just don’t care.

Your fingers move fast anyway – pouring, counting, sliding drinks across the bar without hesitation. Not a single wasted motion as you laugh at something one of your colleagues whispers in your ear.

Then his eyes glance at your arm when you reach up for a wine glass. The small tattoo sits on the inside of your forearm – simple, dark ink. Not decorative in the way people show off. More like something chosen for yourself, placed somewhere only visible when you move a certain way.

An outline of a tiny daffodil that disappears again when your sleeve falls back.

Then your face. Makeup that was probably neat earlier in the day, now slightly worn down at the edges. A faint smudge near your eye, like you’ve wiped sweat or pushed hair away too many times without thinking.

Jaemin’s mouth tilts before he realises it. Why are you always so nice to look at yet so difficult to approach?

“Jaem, this round’s on you, right?” Haechan says beside him.

“Yeah,” He answers carelessly, already stepping forward.

He slips into a free space at the bar before anyone else can, close enough that he doesn’t need to raise his voice.

You still don’t look up.

“Hey,” He tries, already feeling like an idiot.

You glance up. There’s a flicker of recognition and his mind already thinks you’ve tagged him as someone familiar from somewhere mildly annoying. Then your expression resets into something neutral. 

“Hi,” You greet, with a nod and something could resemble a smile if you didn’t look devastatingly bored. “What can I get you?”

Jaemin leans lightly on the bar. “Four beers, please.”

“What kind?” You’re already reaching for a pint glass.

He watches your hands again. “Whatever’s quick.”

You nod once, without further comment. Turn. Pour. Move. And Jaemin instantly thinks, damn, your manager must love you.

Behind him, Jeno laughs at something Haechan says. But Jaemin couldn’t be less curious. He’s still too busy watching you.

The full drinks land in front of him one after the other before he has enough time to admire you as much as he'd like.

“Cash or card?” You ask, reaching for the card machine on autopilot, like you already know his response.

“Card,” He says, tapping it. And before he can speak again or thank you, you’ve already migrated to the next customer, the dismissal so disappointingly quick it feels like a punch in the gut.

You work fast. Faster than most people in a place like this could reasonably manage. But there’s no flourish to it. Just survival through repetition. Someone calls your name and you respond immediately without looking away from what you’re doing, no distraction allowed to get in your way. And Jaemin internally pictures his compromised attention span laughing at him.

When you come back down the bar, he does something he never really had the intention of doing doing with you. He acts on instinct.

“Y/N, right?” He speaks a little too loud, miscalculating the decibels of the music, and immediately wishes he could ascend out of his body and slap himself. Maybe you'll do it for him instead.

You look at him a fraction of a second longer than before. There’s a faint twitch of your eyebrow, fatigue pressing closer to irritation, but still contained under professionalism. “Something wrong with your drinks?”

“You’re Jisung’s friend?” He doesn’t think he’s ever sounded this lame before.

Your eyes narrow slightly as you study him again. “…yeah,” you say. “Why?”

“I’ve seen you with him,” Jaemin says, his own voice irritating him already. “Around campus.”

Great, now he sounds like a stalker.

Something in your expression adjusts - subtle recalibration. Like you’re placing him properly now instead of just acknowledging him.

“Right,” You reaffirm. “You’re…?”

Do you really not remember him? He's introduced himself to you at least three times in the last few months. You've been to his house parties for crying out loud. And you still can't remember his name?

“Jaemin.” He smiles a little, hoping he looks a lot calmer than he feels. “I live with Ji.”

A small breath leaves you. Almost a laugh, but you don’t give it all the way.

“Okay,” You nod, like that settles it and you're in a rush to move on. “Anything else?”

There it is. The politeness. So fake that he wonders what you’d sound like if you screamed at him in anger.

Jaemin leans slightly against the bar, gaze drifting briefly past you and lands on the sign behind you he’s never seen before.

HELP WANTED

He nods toward it. “Does that still stand?”

You follow his gaze, then look back at him like you already know where this is going. “That I know of, yes.”

“And you’re hiring just anyone?”

You offer an indifferent shrug. “If they’re competent.”

“Slightly low bar, no?”

You huff a dismissive laugh, eyes rolling a little. “You’d be surprised.”

He studies you for a second longer. Your exhaustion is so evident, yet you’re holding this whole place together without letting it touch you more than necessary.

“You think I could apply?” A genuine question. The man studies biology, doesn’t know anything about bar tending.

“Honestly?” You say carefully, still polite, but focused on writing something on a small notepad in front of you. “Go for it, but you’d probably quit after one shift if you’ve never worked at a student bar before.”

Jaemin tilts his head slightly. You’re not judging him. You just don’t care whether you’re right or wrong. He still feels like you indirectly called him inexperienced, though.

“Alright,” he says. “Say I did apply.”

“You’d need to talk to the manager.” Again, so disinterested.

“Any warnings?”

You blink at him once. “About what?”

He gestures vaguely around him. “The job?”

You halt for just a second, then get back to pouring. “No, not really.” Then you shake your head. “You get what you see.”

And you’ve already moved to the other side of the bar, shouting about something he can’t quite decipher over the music. Maybe a missing cocktail pitcher?

A quiet laugh of disbelief slips out before he mumbles to himself. “Fair enough.”

“Well done.” Haechan drags him out of his thoughts as he grabs two of the four drinks. “You actually spoke to her and didn’t faint.”

“I was close.” Jaemin picks up the remaining two drinks and hesitantly retreats with a last glance towards you. He scans the crowd to find Jeno and his girlfriend have already secured a table in the furthest corner of the crowded space. Too far from the bar. At least for his liking.

𓂃𓆩⠀⠀ ⊹𓈒⠀⠀ 🐰⠀⠀ 𓈒⊹ ⠀⠀𓆪𓂃

You shouldn’t have come outside.

It’s colder than you expected, the kind that settles in slowly, creeping through your sleeves, but at least it’s quiet out here and no one’s calling your name, no one’s waiting for you to pour their drink or fix something that isn’t your fault.

You lean back against the wall, cigarette between your fingers, letting your head rest for a second as you exhale. The noise from inside is muffled now, like it’s happening somewhere far away instead of just behind the door that you barely register opening again.

“Oh, hi.”

You glance over. Ugh.

You recognise him immediately – the one who always stares at you. The one you always actively ignore. Tonight you even went so far as pretending not to remember his name. Again. The one and only campus legend, Na Jaemin.

He looks very well put together tonight. Annoyingly so. Hoodie that’s a little too oversized, hair that looks effortless in a way that definitely isn’t, and a smile that comes too easily to be accidental. His teeth are ridiculously perfect.

You look at him for a second, then away again. You’re too tired to cover up the disinterest now. “Hi.”

He doesn’t take the hint.

“You look different out here,” He observes you skeptically.

You take a drag before answering, letting the smoke sit in your lungs for a second longer than necessary. “Less busy.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, even though you made no joke. Is he stupid?

“You shouldn’t smoke,” He nods towards your hand. You can tell he’s in the mood to tease.

You exhale slowly, turning your head just enough. “You shouldn’t drink. I still served you.”

“You’re not very friendly when you’re off.”

You glance at him briefly. “We’re not friends.”

There’s a glitch behind his eyes, as if he wasn’t expecting that to be the end of it. What an odd little fella.

“We could be–”

“Don’t even,” You cut in, immediately. “I’m already bored of this.”

He blinks once in shock, then lets out a very loud, almost crazy laugh. It’s drawn out on purpose. Like he’s testing how serious you are and deciding not to be.

“I’m sorry.” He pretends to be serious again. “That was funny.”

You eye him carefully this time. “Are you, like, super bored, or…?”

“No, not at all.” He responds with a shrug. “Do I need to be bored to talk to you?”

You tilt your head slightly. “No offence, I’m really not interested.”

That doesn't seem to do much other than pause him for maybe half a second. Then he nods like he’s processing a new problem.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “So…”

You straighten slightly, cigarette between your fingers, watching him. This is already getting old. “So I wouldn’t bother if I were you.”

He frowns a little. “Wouldn’t bother doing what?”

“Flirting, or whatever this qualifies as.”

“How do you know I’m flirting?”

It’s your turn to laugh this time. “The brick wall knows too. You’re not slick.”

His pout is too cute for a man his age. “So it’s not working then?”

Before you can even think of a response, a voice cuts in from behind him, saving you.

“Jaemin, hurry up. I’m going home.” His friend – half-annoyed, half-laughing – clearly has been watching this whole thing and can’t be bothered to intervene properly.

Jaemin turns slightly but doesn’t move away immediately.

“Give me a sec,” He calls back.

“Can he have your number?” His friend is looking at you now. “He’s actually not as annoying as he comes across and I would quite like to go cuddle my girlfriend.”

Jaemin glances back at you again in disbelief, like he’s weighing too many options. “Ignore him.”

You snort a laugh, slightly entertained by their weird dynamic. “So you don’t want my number.”

“Oh, I do.” He steps back a little, finally starting to retract. “But you won’t give it to me.”

You don’t react.

He nods to himself like he’s collected enough data. “See? I’m not that deluded.” Then, just before he fully turns away, he speaks again with a smile too pleased for someone who just got rejected. “Maybe I’ll try some other time.”

You struggle not to smile back. Then you look back at his friend, who’s still watching the strange interaction with fascination written all over his face.

“I wouldn’t,” You say flatly, internally battling whether you mean it or not. Would you want him to try again? He probably won’t anyway. He seems like the type to move on from these kinds of situations a little too easily. Maybe that’s good.

“Okay, I won’t then.” He just laughs again as he finally walks off. And annoyingly, it doesn’t sound like he’s serious at all.

𓂃𓆩⠀⠀ ⊹𓈒⠀⠀ 🐰⠀⠀ 𓈒⊹ ⠀⠀𓆪𓂃

“Oh, shit–“ Jaemin whispers mid thrust, forcing his brain to tune out Nora’s loud moans. He focuses on his pending climax instead. So close. Right fucking there.

“Jaem, baby, cum for me.” She slurs, sounding too fucked out. Is she faking it? Jaemin swears he barely put any effort in making her cum tonight. He’s too distracted.

He buries his face in her neck, eyes clenching shut, ears blocking out her sounds, hips delivering sharp thrusts, still chasing a high that seems unreachable. The way she strokes his hair – gentle, sweet – seems to be working, and he thanks the universe that his dick finally gives up being stubborn. Not too long after, he finally releases in the condom with a defeated sigh.

It’s when Nora’s in the bathroom and he’s managed to regulate his breathing, that Jaemin finds himself in deep thought.

It wasn’t really her voice, or touch that pushed him over the edge, but his filthy imagination. Because for the first time in forever, Jaemin thought of someone else when he reached his high. His mind didn’t go blank. Nora’s naked body got replaced by the scandalous thought of you his brain chose to produce. You being in her spot. Under him, moaning a lot gentler than her, not faking anything, writhing in overstimulation but also begging him for more.

And for the first time in a long while, shame creeps in.

Not because he’s disrespected Nora. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. But because he barely knows you. Yet somehow, you’ve managed to lodge yourself in his head so deeply that his brain fills in the blanks without permission. Is this normal? Or is his conscience finally deciding to torture him?

You’re younger than him, he knows that much. If you’re Jisung’s age, you’re definitely two years below, which makes you a second-year student. And what business does he have entertaining thoughts about a girl at such a different stage of life?

Two years isn’t much. Not really. But it feels like more when he remembers who he was at that age - confused, broke, permanently overwhelmed. And he still is all of those things, but not for much longer hopefully. You’re probably still navigating uni life like a tourist in foreign land, meanwhile, he’s supposed to graduate in less than five months. To get out in the real world and get one of those big job things that everyone strives for. And Jaemin’s sure that if you were older than him, he wouldn’t even hesitate. But you’re not. And for some reason he cares.

Though, he will admit you did seem to have your wits about you. You have a job. You probably pay your own bills. You're responsible in ways he definitely isn't.

Maybe he really should apply for that vacancy. He'd been joking earlier, but now he’s seriously considering it. Especially after checking the remaining balance in his bank account.

“You staying?” Nora’s voice jolts him out of his spiral.

“Nah.” He offers an apologetic smile. “Got class early tomorrow.”

“Yikes.” She settles under the covers with a tired pout. “You seemed a little out of it tonight.”

Women and their weird intuition.

“Sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Just tired, I think.”

She laughs softly. Like she’s caught the lie. She probably has. “Don’t worry, I’m not judging.”

Jaemin smirks knowingly, staring up at the ceiling. “You’re always judging.”

“True.” The answer comes so quickly it pulls a smile from him.

A second later she’s yawning into her pillow, and Jaemin takes it as his cue to get out of her space.

𓂃𓆩⠀⠀ ⊹𓈒⠀⠀ 🐰⠀⠀ 𓈒⊹ ⠀⠀𓆪𓂃

“Heard you met Jaemin hyung the other night.” Jisung’s side eyes you as you two walk out of your final class of the day. The expression on his face betrays something you can’t quite pinpoint, and you don’t quite like that curiosity blooms in your mind.

“Yeah, he’s weird.” You opt for indifference.

Jisung chuckles at your disapproving tone. “Nice guy, though.”

“Awfully flirty.”

Another short laugh. “Yeah, he’s had a thing for you since last year, I think.”

You completely ignore your friend’s useless statement. “Wasn’t there a rumour going around about him?”

You remember laughing when you heard about it, but then when you rethought the situation, you felt bad for the girl.

“You mean–“

“The piss in the eye thing.” You lower your voice as you exit the main building, and you catch Jisung’s lips purse in thought.

“I think…” His expression changes into a concerned one. “The girl he was seeing at the time asked him to try it and then when he ended things, she kind of made the whole eye thing up.”

“Really?” Your head shoots up. “So he didn’t piss on her?”

You already know the answer when Jisung slightly cringes.

“Well, that part’s true.” He clearly struggles to not laugh at his friend’s antics. “He just didn’t get her eye.”

“Shit,” You raise your eyebrows in wonderment. “Some people really struggle with rejection I guess.”

“Yeah, well, in this case–” Jisung pauses, like his next revelation could ruin Jaemin’s career. “He kind of, unknowingly, slept with one of her friends and then ghosted her.”

“Ugh, what a prick.” You cringe, all of a sudden supportive of the girl’s pettiness. “And you’re friends with this person?”

“I mean, he’s nice to me.” Jisung shrugs, causing you to smile at the fondness he emits. You sometimes wonder why Jisung is still single. He’s most likely the nicest guy friend you have, always sweet, always polite, always warm. A girl’s dream. Not necessarily yours. But most girls would certainly kill for a boyfriend like him.

“You’re too sweet for your own good Ji.”

“Oh, c’mon, it’s not like you haven’t fucked people over.” He gives you pointed look, his hand instinctively wrapping around your elbow to halt you from crossing the street as the red light is still on for pedestrians. “You’ve made guys like Jaemin cry in the past.”

It’s your turn to shrug. “I'm just doing god's work.”

“Speaking of men,” Jisung tugs at your sleeve as he starts walking, practically dragging you with him, and you always have to hold back a laugh at the silly little habit. “How’s things with Chenle?”

“Mmm, not sure.” You pout in contemplation about the odd situation you’ve recently found yourself in. “He’s hella cute, don’t get me wrong, great sex too, but I think that’s just it.”

“That’s not necessarily bad, no?”

“No, it’s ideal, but I think he might be in love.”

“Eh–?”

“Chill, not with me.” You reassure Jisung quickly before he jumps to conclusions. “I have a feeling he’s hung up on someone else.”

“Oof.” Jisung sympathises with a scrunch of his nose.

“Yeah, as amazing as dick can be, it feels a bit weird when the other person can barely look at you, you know?”

The whole ordeal with Chenle started randomly and predictably where most similar situations start. A party. A lot of alcohol involved. A game of truth or dare. A kiss. And then suddenly you’re bent over a bathroom sink getting your back blown out.

He gave you exactly what you were looking for. A distraction. And so you both kept going back. For almost a year now. But the last few months, you’ve sensed the change in him. The hesitation before a kiss. The pauses between touches. The way his eyes seem focused somewhere else. You're not hurt by it. The sex is still good. But being cast in the role of someone else's stand-in isn't exactly appealing.

The problem is that ending things with Chenle would mean giving up convenient sex. Which, unfortunately, has become one of the highlights of your increasingly exhausting weeks. And it would likely mean going back to your old pink wand-shaped friend. Not the worst thing in the world, but also not as good as the real deal.

What really is the worst thing in the world is the fact that when you try to think of alternatives, your brain keeps landing on the same person. A person whose lifestyle, reputation, and entire approach to life go against everything you usually stand for.

Yet, you can’t help but wonder.

What is it about Na Jaemin that makes people go so feral? Apart from his ridiculously gorgeous face. And hair. And hands. And arms. Okay, yes, he’s insanely attractive. But attractive enough to get away with anything?

Even after that ridiculous rumour started going around, he seemed completely untouched by it, and so did everyone around him. He still drifted through parties like he owned them, collecting attention without even appearing to try, somehow maintaining his ‘pussy magnet’ status like nothing could ever tarnish it.

His erratic behaviour, paired with the endless stream of people drawn to him, had always felt like a mystery you weren’t remotely interested in solving. Until the other night.

One thing you’re sure of is that if his dick game is as weak as his flirting skills, then what a shame.

And what a waste of everyone’s time.

𓂃𓆩⠀⠀ ⊹𓈒⠀⠀ 🐰⠀⠀ 𓈒⊹ ⠀⠀𓆪𓂃

“Well, hello partner.” The familiar but grating voice penetrates your distracted brain as you’re too busy looking in your bag for your work t-shirt.

“Huh?”

And there he is again, outside your workplace like he belongs. Perfect set of pearly whites on full display, blinding you. He looks like a more of a normal person compared to the other night. Like he’s just heading home after a long day of lectures, his backpack hanging off one shoulder.

Annoying.

“We must stop meeting like this.” He attempts to joke, letting the door of the main entrance slam shut behind him.

“I work here.” You point out, as though he doesn’t already know. “Why are you here? We’re not even open yet.”

“Well, as of tomorrow, I work here too.” He says a little too chirpily, like he didn’t just drop a bomb on you.

“Umm,“ You suspect you must look like a crazy person judging from his amused expression. “No you don’t.”

“I’m afraid I do.” He nods with the cockiest grin sporting his face.

“How–“

“Just had my interview with Johnny.” He points a thumb behind him. “So, I guess I’ll–“

“Do you even have bar experience?” You interrupt him a little too abruptly, the tone of your voice carries a surprise to both of you. A little too cold even for you.

His smirk doesn’t falter. “We all start from somewhere.”

“Yeah, in your case, rock bottom.” You don’t want to offend him. Don’t want to give him more of your energy to cling on to. Yet, it’s so difficult not to.

He dares to let a stupid laugh slip. “I’m just so lucky to have you as a mentor then.”

“I ain’t teaching you shit.” You scoff, tightening your grip on your bag strap. The nerve of this man.

“Well, I gotta learn somehow.” He pouts.

Fake.

“You’re welcome to sit in a corner and watch then.” You offer him a sweet smile with absolutely no warmth behind it before moving past him and towards the door. Another long-ass shift awaits.

You can still feel his eyes on you when he speaks again. “I’ll happily watch you. Just not sure I’ll learn much.”

Your hand stills on the handle.

The grin threatening your mouth is immediate as you catch the meaning tucked beneath his words. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of turning around. Instead, you push through the door and disappear inside.

Even then, you can still feel his gaze burning between your shoulder blades.

𓂃𓆩⠀⠀ ⊹𓈒⠀⠀ 🐰⠀⠀ 𓈒⊹ ⠀⠀𓆪𓂃

Jaemin hates working with you. Not because you’re bossy. Not because you’re too fast. Not because you roll your eyes at him every time he makes a mistake. Not because you called him an imbecile earlier. Not because your jaw tenses whenever he flirts with a customer.

But because none of those things make him think about you less. Jaemin leaves every shift either irritated or turned on and definitely a little more obsessed with you.

His eyes threaten to roll to the back of his head each time you insult him. It’s like he lives to frustrate you nowadays. And he swears he almost let a moan slip when you grabbed him by the back of his collar yesterday as he was pouring what turned out to be a pint of Guinness like he would pour every other pint of lager. You have to let it sit half-way through apparently. Or whatever it was you snarled at him.

After a week of being shouted at and having enjoyed every single second of it, he’s finally starting to get the hang of things. And as much as he’s enjoyed torturing you, he's realised that he needs to lock in if he wants to keep his job. The manager seemed to trust your judgment, so he couldn’t really risk it for longer.

He liked the tiny comment of praise you gave him when he successfully closed the till at the end of the shift. But as much as the little ‘nice one’ you muttered excited him, nothing comes close to ‘I could so easily slap you right now’.

Yes, Jaemin has long accepted that he might be sick in the head. But he just can’t help it when it comes to you and your short temper.

What gets him the most, though, what really makes him weak in the knees, and rewires his brain every single time, is how you shift from mean to kind and back to mean in a matter of seconds. One moment you’re looking at him with eyes that scream murder and the next you’re smiling at a customer and offering water when they seem too intoxicated.

It’s almost three am when the last few customers slip out tonight. You’re already on your phone, your back pressed against the bar as you quickly type a response to something that made you almost smile.

“Boyfriend?” He tries, already knowing the answer, but needing to inspect further.

You surprise him by actually giving a somewhat satisfactory answer. “Not really, no.”

He nods, pretending to stay focused on the cleaning task in front of him. “Girlfriend then?”

He can’t help but giggle at the way you roll your eyes but still smirk at his nosy but teasing tone.

Jaemin is very much aware of your current situation. Turns out drunk little Jisung can’t keep a secret for the life of him. But even if it weren’t for his younger housemate, Jaemin has eyes. He’s seen you at parties, sneaking around with only one guy. A guy he only knows through other friends and Haechan’s girlfriend. He remembers sharing a vape with him once outside a club.

Chenle is someone he could only describe as likeable. He hasn’t ever heard a single bad thing about the guy. Always cracking jokes and hosting the best parties out of everyone in the circle of Jaemin's acquaintances. And it goes without saying that he’s insanely hot. As straight as Jaemin is, he can appreciate an attractive man. The younger boy’s cheekbones and jawline could slice him in half. So he can’t really blame you.

But he can and he will be secretly jealous.

Especially when his brain keeps taking him back to that night he walked out in the back garden of some stranger’s house for a piss, just because the bathroom was otherwise occupied. He wishes he had walked away the second he realised what was actually happening, but in the midst of his drunken state, Jaemin stalled. And he watched. For longer than he should have.

Because there you were, backed against a concealed corner, just a few feet away from the spot he chose to empty his full bladder, which was quickly forgotten the second he laid eyes on the sight in front of him. Your bent knee resting on Chenle’s hip, uncovered thigh concealing whatever the boy’s hand was doing between your legs.

It was when you broke the kiss with a low whine that Jaemin realised he needed to leave. He still didn’t, though. Not for a few seconds longer. Not until he heard you brokenly whisper ‘Think I’m gonna cum’. That’s when he bolted. Because it got too real. And as much as Jaemin hates to admit it, he really, truly, genuinely, passionately despised the way you sounded so sweet with another boy. A boy that wasn't him. A boy that couldn't possibly think about you as much as Jaemin does.

And when he got back home that night, Jaemin, shamefully, had the most intense jerking off experience ever. What was shameful about it wasn’t just the filthy imagery of you that occupied his sick little mind – mostly scenarios where you’d be on your knees for him – but how your name so easily rolled off his tongue when his load landed on the shower floor. And he couldn’t even blame his imagination anymore. Just his memory.

𓂃𓆩⠀⠀ ⊹𓈒⠀⠀ 🐰⠀⠀ 𓈒⊹ ⠀⠀𓆪𓂃

“Hey, partner.” Jaemin’s now familiar greeting makes you look up from the drink you’re pouring yourself. Oddly, it’s not as aggravating now you’re not surrounded by kegs of beer and screaming customers.

“Hey, loser.” You greet back like you always do, this time a little more lightheartedly. Blame it on the alcohol coursing through your bloodstream. “Don’t tell me you’re here to ruin another one of my evenings with your nagging.”

His expected laugh rings through the loud music. He’s already leaning against the counter next to you as you mix cheap vodka with lemonade. “Nah, just spotted you and thought I’d say hi. Is that allowed?”

You glance over at him, pretending to think about your answer as you briefly take a sip to taste test the drink. “I suppose it is at this point.”

You don’t miss his gaze taking in your appearance when you turn around to lean your hip against the counter so you can properly look at him.

He hesitates a little before speaking again, his hand nervously swirling the content of his cup. “And what point is that?”

“Hmm,” You hold back a grin, enjoying his squirming a little too much. “I’m not sure yet. What point would you want it to be?”

You can practically see the wheels turning in his head before his signature grin appears. “Something tells me friendship point would be a no-no from your side.”

You can’t contain it this time. A chuckle lets loose, making you look away, his wide-eyed reaction a little too overwhelming for you and so is the entirety of his handsome face.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t go that far.” You say disapprovingly, and his exaggerated groan is less annoying than other nights.

He pauses to take a look at you, expression more serious than you’re used to, and it makes you feel almost shy. Almost.

“Who you here with then?” He breaks the silence with what could pass as the most casual question, but you can sense the hidden meaning behind it.

“My flatmate, Winter.” You search through the crowd that occupies the living room area and quickly spot her with Ningning and Chenle. “The blondie over there.”

“Ah,” Recognition appears on his features. “You close with Ning and Chenle too?”

“Mm.” You take a sip of your drink as you do your best to show nonchalance. “Not really.”

“Pff.” The scoff is difficult to ignore. He knows you’re lying. Of course he does.

“What?” You ask as innocently as possible.

“Nothing, just didn’t take you for a liar.” He challenges with a smirk, his fingers getting your attention as they tap on the counter surface.

“How am I a liar?” You mirror the tilt of his head with your own.

“I live with Jisung, Y/N.” He steps closer, voice lowering just a tad. “You probably know things about me you shouldn’t know.”

He's not wrong there. You might not be at a friendship point, but there’s definitely no secrets between you two with Jisung as a mutual friend. That fact doesn’t seem to bother you as much as it should, though. Not when all you can really focus on in the moment are Jaemin’s unfairly long eyelashes and his incredibly moisturised lips.

How can a man be this pretty?

“Do you think you’d take off if you blinked too fast?” Your unexpected question seems to baffle him, and to your amusement he expresses his confusion by blinking a little faster than normal.

“Oh my god… you’re drunk!” He brings a hand to his mouth, gasping dramatically.

You poke him in the chest, making him stumble back a little. “And you’re a pretty little girl.”

A shocked laugh erupts from him and before he can speak another word, you’re clumsily walking away. Fuck Na Jaemin and his stupidly flawless face.

It’s not too long after when you’re dragging Chenle upstairs, in need of a distraction, which proves to be impossible when Jaemin’s gaze finds yours through the crowd like it’s an instinct. You hold eye contact longer than necessary. Longer than you’d normally allow yourself.

You take pride in being a self-aware person. You know your limits and you can tell when you’ve crossed them. This is a case of the latter. Because looking into Na Jaemin’s eyes like you’re passing a silent invite while Chenle’s hand is in yours is definitely something that goes beyond your moral boundaries.

And you know what you’re doing when you leave the door ajar behind you as you crash your mouth into Chenle’s. And you definitely know what you’re doing when instead of the bed, you choose to walk back into the desk, where anyone walking past the room could take a peek at. The whole time, you’re perfectly aware of your actions and the repercussions they entail, but you’re also aware of Jaemin’s eyes on you when you bury your face in Chenle’s shoulder.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Chenle moans against your neck as he keeps thrusting into you. Hard. His hands harshly squeeze your ass, slightly lifting you off the desk, bouncing you just right, nudging the perfect spot inside you.

You can’t help but let your head roll back for a few seconds, allowing the pleasure to consume you. And just when you’re teetering close to the edge of your orgasm, you allow yourself to steal a glance at the door, the little crack allowing you to see the shadow of someone standing there.

You know it’s him.

You know he can see everything clearly, and that thought alone is enough to send you into total bliss.

𓂃𓆩⠀⠀ ⊹𓈒⠀⠀ 🐰⠀⠀ 𓈒⊹ ⠀⠀𓆪𓂃

Jaemin hates you. He does. But most of all he hates himself and how down bad for you he is. He feels pathetic. And extremely turned on.

How dare you eye fuck him that hard when you’re guiding another man into a room clearly with intention of getting dicked down. And how dare you look in his direction while you’re getting railed into next week.

Do you know he's fucking insane?

You can’t possibly be able to see him, but he knows you know he’s there. He knows you know he’s watching. And he knows you like it. You invited him after all. It’s obvious you’re putting on a show for him. And even though he’s well hidden, your gaze keeps trailing towards the door. It’s filthy. And it’s obscene. And it’s new. Nothing he’s experienced before.

You’re right there, just a few feet away from him. Again. Getting touched by Chenle. Again. And Jaemin is watching. Again. Only this time, you’re aware of him.

By the time he let his intrigue take over his logic and decided to head upstairs, you're already moaning, thighs spread around the other boy’s waist as he pounds into you. And Jaemin will give it to Chenle. He seems like he knows what he’s doing with you. Like he knows what you need. And when your legs start shaking, Jaemin can’t bring himself to look away. He feels hot and flushed, his cheeks burning with shame and arousal, but he needs to keep looking. Needs to see you fall apart, even if it’s on another man’s cock.

And he does exactly that. He watches.

Your mouth hangs open in the cutest way, your expression blissed out, eyes unfocused, hands gripping onto Chenle’s shirt while you cum with the sweetest cry of desperation he’s ever heard.

And Jaemin’s dick is so hard it hurts. But what hurts more is his pride.

You’ve humiliated him without even trying. Just tossed a bait he so willingly grabbed onto like he was deprived and starved. He gave you all the power he could ever give someone. All for you to chew him up and spit him back out. And for him to love every second of it.

The next couple of weeks are, as expected, a torture. Him trying to get the image out of his head and you putting it right back into its wedged place whenever you look at him.

𓂃𓆩⠀⠀ ⊹𓈒⠀⠀ 🐰⠀⠀ 𓈒⊹ ⠀⠀𓆪𓂃

“So, how's working with Jaem going?” Jisung points his drink toward your coworker, who’s currently belting out ‘She Will Be Loved’ to the karaoke mic in the middle of the living room, while half the people sitting down are hyping him up and the other half are booing. Except for Haechan who’s just filming with his phone like a proud mum.

You have to hide your smile behind the rim of your cup. Otherwise, it’s too obvious who the reason behind it is. “As well as it can go.”

“That could either be awful or amazing.”

“I’m not telling you shit. You can’t keep your mouth shut.” It comes as a joke, but you mean it.

“What? I’ve never–”

“Yes, you have.” You chuckle at your friend’s automatically defensive mode.

Jisung rolls his eyes in surrender. “He asked me!”

“And you said ‘oh, yeah she’s actually banging Chenle’?” You take a sideways glance at him but return your attention to Jaemin and his chaotic performance.

“Well...” Jisung pauses to think. “He already kind of knew. I think he asked Haechan as well.”

“See? That’s what I mean!” You laugh with a shake of your head. “You’ve just thrown your friend under the bus.”

Jisung groans in annoyance. “As if you don’t already know he’s into you.” He points at his housemate again, who’s now on his knees in front of Haechan finishing the song. “He’s been following you around like a lost puppy for at least a month now. It's not rocket science.”

You refuse to react to the statement, even though it’s a fact.

“And you like it.” Jisung concludes with a teasing grin.

Your tongue reflexively pokes into your cheek to contain another smile.

“Just fuck him.”

“Ji!” You whack him on the chest, the out-of-character and vulgar comment shocking you.

“What?” Jisung giggles at your reaction, arm coming up as a shield. “He’s graduating soon, so you might as well get it out the way before it’s too late.”

“Oh, do me a favour.” Your dismissal makes Jisung’s eyebrows raise in confusion. “That man doesn’t have the brain cells to pour a drink let alone graduate.”

“He’s actually on his way to a distinction.”

“Huh?” Your neck almost cramps from snapping your head to look at Jisung only to find his irritating smirk still in place.

“Surprise, he's clever!" Jisung mocks your shocked expression with a gasp. "Spanner in the works, huh?”

You click your teeth in annoyance, returning to your dismissive tone. “No works so no spanners.”

“Lie some more. I'm enjoying this.”

You tune out Jisung’s rant about how ‘you always deprive yourself of real connections because you’re scared of trusting men’ and take a meticulous look at Jaemin. He’s now sat on the sofa while someone else has taken his place on the mic. It’s something about the way he carefully listens to Jeno and nods that gets your thoughts rolling.

Yes, he’s undeniably handsome. Yes, he can be funny at times. Yes, his light-heartedness is what you look forward to during a rough shift sometimes. But it’s mostly his attention to detail and careful nature that intrigues you. It's how he can always read what mood you’re in without you even having to utter a single word. It’s how his eyebrows tense and he hums along in understanding when you complain about something random or explain work stuff to him. It’s how he’s never once fucked up at work, always completing tasks like a pro and even saving your from awkward situations with rude customers. And you realise that through the silliness and endless flirty comments, you’ve overlooked qualities that make him so much more desirable than he already looks.

You realise that you’re finally seeing through the persona he very obviously has built as a wall around himself.

And maybe that explains why later in the night, when Jaemin very openly follows your every movement as you walk in the sitting area of the party, you give in.

“Sit next to me?” No partner this time, no teasing lilt in his tone, just pure hope as he looks up at you from his spot on the already occupied sofa. Shiny lips parted slightly, eyes wide when you approach him, clearly taken aback by your newfound docility.

Jeno instantly slides further down to make space for you, smiling politely when you squeeze in between the two boys, and you can undoubtedly feel Jaemin’s eyes burning holes into your side profile.

“Stop staring.” You mutter with a grin you fail to hold back when you feel him sink back into the cushions again, legs spreading just a little. Just enough for his thigh to press against yours, the heat radiating off his jeans easy to feel on your bare skin.

“What you drinking?” He inches a little closer, chin just a few centimetres off your skin as he looks over your shoulder, warm breath littering the expanse of it with goosebumps. You don’t think he’s ever been this close before. Or maybe you just haven’t noticed.

You lift your cup closer to his face, offering a sip but only throw him a quick sideways glance. “Vodka cranberry.”

He takes it after balancing his own cup between his thighs. “Yum.” He smacks his lips after a big gulp, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick a stray droplet of translucent pink liquid. “You know, I read somewhere that if you share your drink with someone, they’re be able find out all your secrets.”

You snort at the ridiculous and probably made-up fact. “Good thing I’m an open book.”

“Mm,” He taps his index on the rim of your cup he’s still holding. For some reason your eyes keep drifting to his fingers. “That you are.” You can hear the mischief in his tone and you know what he’s referring to. You both do.

A thick drop of alcohol spills over the edge of your red cup when he passes it back, landing right on your bare thigh. You stare at it. He doesn’t apologise. Instead, his thumb brushes away the liquid on your skin before putting it in his mouth. Like it was never there. Goosebumps form instantaneously as you watch his lips in utter shock. The fuck did he just do?

“Everyone has secrets, though.” He brings your attention back to his eyes.

“Go ahead then.” You gesture, as though offering the floor for him to take, choosing to ignore the lewd act of him sucking on the thumb that just touched you. “What’s one of mine?”

He narrows his eyes as he thinks carefully, taking in your already judgmental expression. “You still listen to Paramore.”

A loud, abrupt laugh bubbles in your chest at the random guess. “That’s no fucking secret.”

“Yeah, I just uncovered it.” He gestures with both palms open, like it’s the most obvious thing in the whole world.

“You’re a clown.” You shake your head.

“Okay okay, I have a better one.” He sits up, straightening his back a little as he turns to face you better. You instinctively mirror him, brain now blocking out the rest of the commotion in the crowded living room. “You actually like mentoring me.”

Your eyebrows have a mind of their own as they inch closer to your hairline in surprise. “Interesting. Why d’you think that?”

He extends his arm along the back of the couch, his skin brushing yours, the same shoulder he was breathing on. You watch his mouth form a sceptical pout, eyes more serious than ever. “Because you enjoy bossing me around.”

“I’m just giving you what you want.” The words slip out before your brain has the chance to filter them, and you suddenly get the urge to slap a hand on your mouth. You don’t.

“Nice.” He nods in approval, proud smile on full blast. “And you haven’t even had a sip of my drink.”

“It’s no secret.”

“What?” He challenges. You hesitate. He presses. “Say it.”

His expressions are too tempting to finish the conversation here. “That you like being told what to do.”

He hums ponderingly. “Sounds to me like we’re–”

“A match made in heaven?” You humour him for what feels like the first time ever, imitating what he would’ve sounded like in your brain, whiny and irritating.

He smiles wide, pearly whites blinding you, fingers curling inwards against your shoulder, knuckles lightly tickling you. “Didn’t know you were cute like that.”

You tut your tongue at him, eyes rolling in feigned annoyance, all just to let him know that his flirty remarks still fail to affect you. Which has been a big fat lie since that first night you officially met him.

But he can’t see that. You hope.

𓂃𓆩⠀⠀ ⊹𓈒⠀⠀ 🐰⠀⠀ 𓈒⊹ ⠀⠀𓆪𓂃

Next time you see Jaemin is not at work, but at the science building cafeteria. Chenle is going on about how happy he is that you’re not awkward with him now that you’ve stopped fucking around and how much he appreciates you as a friend. You think it’s funny that he’s so apologetic considering you’re the one who actually initiated the conversation last week. You thought it was about time. Especially after you found him drunk in a bathtub, crying his eyes out. He has a weird habit of getting in bathtubs when he’s at parties, but you know by now it’s just his way of escaping overwhelming crowds. And so you just nod away when he keeps yapping about how grateful he is that you’re so cool and respect his space.

You’ve just devoured a spoonful of rice when you hear it.

“Yo yo, partner!” You instantly know who it is, but you still raise your head from your plate, and you wonder if you look like a caricature with your cheeks protruding like you’ve been starved for days. Jaemin stands over you, his dumb smile intact like it’s never left since that party. It always makes you wonder what he’s like when he’s serious or upset about something. Is he the vocal or silent treatment type? Is he chill or intense? Or is he the kind that would shut you up and put you in your place? Nevermind.

“Oh lord, you got enough rice there?” He mocks, eyes widening to humour you. “You look like Patrick with a crabby patty.”

He somehow looks even brighter in daylight. Maybe it’s the pink jumper. Maybe it’s his unusually fluffy hair. Or maybe it’s the way he rocks back and forth on his heels like a child desperate for attention. What a sight.

You just blink.

Chenle folds in half laughing and points at you while you force yourself to chew.

“Well, take your time. I don’t really need you to speak.” Jaemin hands you a flyer. “I was gonna invite you to this photography exhibition. You’re both welcome.”

Both? He’s potentially seen the two of you going at it on a desk, blatantly flirted with you days after, and now is inviting you both to his photography exhibition. Like none of that is remotely weird.

Something stirs in you as you struggle to chew.

Jaemin has made it abundantly clear he’d be in your pants the second you gave him the green light. Yet he’s never been jealous. Never possessive. Never made things uncomfortable. If anything, his interest in you, day by day, seems to be inching closer to something that could only be described as genuine. Not just sexual. Not just competitive.

And your stomach feels weird. Because you like that.

Chenle smiles at the older boy while you still struggle to swallow down your food. “I thought you studied biomed?”

“Hobbies are a thing.” Jaemin drags the words teasingly, with no malice detected in his voice.

“We’ll be there.” Chenle agrees cheerfully without sparing you a glance.

“Umm–”

“Nice one!” Jaemin claps his hands and walks away before you can get a coherent word out.

“So, I see I’ve been replaced in no time.” Chenle attempts to joke but of course it doesn’t land. Like most of his jokes. Instead, it earns him a cube of mango in the face.

It’s not that you don’t want to go. You certainly do. You’re curious. But you’re also a tiny bit terrified. Because that invite, as ridiculously casual as it was made out to be, felt somewhat intimate.

And what has put ‘a spanner in the works’, like your dear friend Jisung said the other night, isn’t that Jaemin has a creative hobby. Or that he’s intelligent. Or that he doesn’t mind being the butt of every joke while half the university spreads ridiculous rumours about him.

It’s how interesting of a person he’s turning out to be. Not just smooth. Not just confident. But... charismatic.

And that’s something you would describe as an obstacle. Something disturbing.

Because it renders your efforts to ignore his advances useless.

𓂃𓆩⠀⠀ ⊹𓈒⠀⠀ 🐰⠀⠀ 𓈒⊹ ⠀⠀𓆪𓂃

You could never really wrap your head around the fact that some women so easily go about their day while on their period. Meanwhile, you’re struggling to pour drinks and take card payments due to the agonising pain in your lower back and what could only be described as stabbing in your uterus. The only thing you can do is sip water every five minutes to reward your body for its endurance during this fuckass shift that will probably pay for less than a pack of tampons.

You’re putting on the best smile you can muster, but you can feel that client after client it keeps weakening, and so do your knees. The smell of alcohol isn’t helping either, with your stomach already being in bits since this morning. The loud laughter coming from all the tables around keeps piercing through your aching head and you’re pretty sure your back is dripping in sweat from your fluctuating body temperature.

“You look a little pale, you okay?” Jaemin asks quietly as he stands next to you behind the bar. It’s a busy Friday night, people coming in and out. Some looking to stay, some just pregaming for the rest of their long night out. And you’ll give it to Jaemin, he’s been a lot more productive tonight than you have. So much that you’re actually thankful you’re working with him tonight. Because he keeps taking the heat from all the demanding customers without questioning your distraction.

"Mm, just tired." You lean forward against the shelf beneath the bar, eyes shut as you try to breathe through another wave of pain. "Sorry for letting you take the lead tonight."

You hear him take another order. Something about a Sex on the Beach. A moment later comes the beep of the card machine, then warmth envelops your side - his chest. And a gentle hand settles on your lower back.

You're too exhausted to flinch.

"Seriously, do you need a minute?" he asks, genuine concern softening his voice. The heat of his palm lands exactly where it hurts. "I don't mind if you go downstairs for a bit–"

"No, I'm good." You shake your head quickly, resentment bubbling at being seen like this. You hate it enough that you could cry. Probably the insane hormones in your body working their magic.

“Y/N–”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He presses, voice firmer than before but still laced with worry. His hand stays on your back, thumb tracing absent circles that might've been soothing if you weren't in so much pain. Then he shifts slightly, shielding you from the other bartenders. "Do you need painkillers? I've got ibuprofen in my bag."

Oh. So he definitely knows you’re bleeding out of your vagina. Great. And he’s attentive. Super great.

A sharp cramp twists in your tummy, forcing you to give in. So you nod. “Will you be good on your own for a few minutes? I might need to–”

"I'll be fine." He saves you from having to admit you need the bathroom to check whether you've leaked through your tampon.

The loss of his warmth is immediate, but a second later he's slipping a blister pack into your hand. His fingers linger for the briefest moment around your wrist before he pulls away as two new customers approach the bar.

"Take your time," he says quietly.

When you finally look up, he's already behind the till, already smiling at customers. Back to his usual chirpy self, as if he didn't just make you feel strangely safe.

By the end of what feels like the longest shift in human history, you've lost count of how many times Jaemin has checked if you're okay. Now he's practically forcing you into your jacket because he refuses to let you stay and close up. The painkillers have finally kicked in, and all you want is your bed and a hot water bottle. Still, you're oddly reluctant to leave without saying something.

“Thanks for earlier, by the way.” You catch Jaemin's baffled look as he tries to sort glasses onto the shelves.

“Why are you still here?” he scolds, disapproval written all over his face.

Despite yourself, you smile. “I’m going, I’m going.” You lift your hands in surrender, already wearing your jacket, bag hanging off one shoulder. “Just wanted to say thanks.”

He glances up briefly, shoulders lifting in a small shrug before his attention returns to the cocktail jar in his hands. “It’s what partners do, no?”

Now that you're standing on the customer side of the bar, you finally get to see what everyone else sees. A very pretty, smiley man you'd probably avoid if you were ordering.

“Well, goodnight, partner.”

His entire face lights up, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “I like it better when you say it.”

And then he's gone, disappearing into the back before you can think of a response.

The thudding in your chest leaves no coherent thoughts behind.

𓂃𓆩⠀⠀ ⊹𓈒⠀⠀ 🐰⠀⠀ 𓈒⊹ ⠀⠀𓆪𓂃

It’s not that Jaemin is in love with you. Absolutely not. How could he be?

Everything he knows about you is what he’d know about any coworker. How you sound when you’re frustrated with him. How annoyed you get when he forgets to turn the dishwasher on. How pretty you look when you’re complaining about rude customers. How you always wear black tops to work but brighter colours around campus.

He’s also noticed that you answer his questions before he asks them. He never has to spend long looking for something behind the bar; you’re already pointing him in the right direction.

No, it’s not that he’s in love with you. That’s not the case at all. He just can’t seem to get you out of his head.

He’s not sure when it became a problem, but he noticed it after that night you were feeling unwell. He’d never seen your guard so low before, never seen you look like you needed someone to take care of you.

He wanted to text you after your shift. Make sure you got home okay.

He didn’t.

Partly because he chickened out, and partly because you strike him as the type to leave a man on read without a second thought. Probably because you can. Sensational women tend to get away with things like that.

Lying in bed that night, exhausted but unable to sleep, he couldn't stop thinking about comforting you.

Not sex. Not any of the filthy scenarios his brain usually specialises in.

Just you. Curled up in his arms beneath a blanket. A bouquet of flowers abandoned somewhere on the coffee table. Chocolate. Your favourite snacks. His fingers combing through your hair while you slowly drift off against his chest.

He’s fantasised about plenty of things before. Never this. Never about making someone's day easier.

With you, though…

He wonders if you’d ever want him in your space like that. If you’d trust him to hold you like that. And most of all, he wonders if you’ve thought about it too. But, to put it plainly, no. Jaemin is far from being in love with you.

He’s really struggling to focus tonight.

With you sitting beside him, the booth somehow feels both too small and too big. He can’t decide whether he wants more space between you or none at all.

It’s Jisung’s birthday drinks. Three weeks after his actual birthday, his younger housemate finally managed to gather everyone for a quiet night out. No clubbing. No chaos. Just a lively bar a little outside of campus.

Jisung claimed he was sick of seeing the same faces all the time, to which Jaemin had agreed. And yet here he is, distracted by your familiar face.

You’re tucked into the corner of the booth, practically shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Jeno sits on his other side. Beyond that, Jaemin couldn’t tell you who's sitting where.

Not because he’s drunk.

Because you smell too good.

Because your arm keeps brushing his whenever you reach for your drink.

And because your dress...

Fuck.

Your dress.

You always look pretty. But tonight you’re on a different level. Or maybe it’s just his silly little brain playing tricks on him. It’s only a black dress. Nothing he hasn’t seen on other girls before. Then again, Jaemin often thinks that no one can pull things off like you do.

“So what’s Jaemin like at work, Y/N?” Renjun chimes in curiously from the opposite side of the booth. Here we go.

“Hmm.” Jaemin feels your eyes on him before you answer. “Same as now, just less rigid.”

“Hey, I’m not rigid–”

“You are a little.” Renjun saves the day again, clearly in the mood to mock.

“He’s probably just annoyed he can’t escape my presence.” You lean over the table, as if sharing a secret with his friend.

Oh, so you’re playing that game. Cool cool cool. “Why would I wanna escape your presence? Being all up in your business is my new hobby.”

You shoot him the deadliest side-eye. So pretty. “Is it now?”

“Mhm.” He twirls his straw playfully before taking a sip of the very strong rum and coke he ordered not too long ago. “Honestly, it’s what gets me through the week.”

Your scoff says you don't believe him for a second. “You might as well just confess your undying love at this point.”

Yeah, he’s seriously thinking about it. “That would be highly unprofessional considering you’re, like, my boss.”

“Since when do you give a fuck about professionalism?”

“Um,” He raises a sassy finger. “I’m pretty sure you lack in that department more than I do.”

You blink at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t spit in people’s drinks.”

“He made her pay for everything and kept staring at my tits!” you fire back.

Jaemin laughs at the memory of you ‘accidentally’ dribbling into some guy’s beer before handing it over with the sweetest smile imaginable.

“Nah, that was actually fire, I rate it.” He praises and leans more against the table, elbows on the surface as he rests his chin on his interlinked fingers, trying really hard not to stare at your tits, clearly no better than the man who, unknowingly, had the pleasure of tasting your spit. Maybe if Jaemin openly stares, you’ll spit in his drink too.

That’s not a normal thing to want, is it?

Renjun is already immersed in another conversation with Haechan and Jisung, and Jaemin realises that for the first time in what feels like an eon, he’s nervous. As though he’s all alone with you and doesn’t know how to handle it. Though, he doesn’t have to dig too deep in his brain for a topic of conversation before you strike him with a surprisingly serious question. “So, you excited to graduate?”

He feels like he needs hours to think about the right answer. You’ve definitely put him on the spot here, and no one’s even listening. “Yes and no.”

“That’s awfully vague.”

“It’s true.” He shrugs, eyes trained on your nails. Not chipped for the first time. He can almost picture you painting them with a serious but insanely adorable look of concentration all over your face. “I’m curious about life after uni, but also, I know this is probably the freest we’ll ever feel.”

“Yeah,” You take in his words, and he can almost visualise your brain processing them as you slowly nod. “I don’t think I’m cut out to have a big girl job.”

“I think you’re cut out to have anything you want.” His words don’t even click in his mind but your raised eyebrow makes him catch on. He’ll admit - though, not intended that way - that sounded like a line. “I’m serious.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. A hint of a smile. “Didn’t say you weren’t.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Right, you know all my secrets. I forget.” It’s the first time you refer to that night you two spent hours talking on that dingy sofa.

“Nah, not all of them.” He deflects with a pout.

You tilt your head in question, cheek now resting on your palm as you give him your full attention. It’s strange. It should feel like a victory. Instead, it makes him feel exposed.

“No?” You ask teasingly.

He offers a nod and leans an inch closer. Enough for his arm to press against yours. Skin on skin. A rarity with you two. “I feel like I could know a lot more.”

“Anything specific?” You surprise him by not pulling back, if anything, you just hold eye contact. Like the rest of the group doesn’t even exist. “Feels like you’ve got a questionnaire prepared.”

Jaemin can’t fight the cheeky smile. This is his moment. It's either go big or go home. “Why did you leave the door ajar?”

It’s like your mouth parts in slow motion. Then shuts again. And repeat. You’re doing a good job at not showing much emotion at the outrageously daring question.

“Why did you come upstairs?” You predictably answer him with a question of your own, and he has to bite a grin back. Because, of course, you’d do that.

“Because you wanted me to.” His shoulders lift in a small shrug, like it’s self-explanatory. To him it is.

“And you’re so good at knowing what I want.”

“I’m definitely better at it than you are.”

“Oof...” You lean back and cross your arms, your dubious frown causing a turmoil in his chest. Did he go too far? “Do you even know what you want?”

“Mm, to be honest...” He leans in so he can whisper without risking getting heard by anyone else. “I rarely do, but–”

“Oh, do me a favour.” You roll your eyes like you’re already bored of what he’s about to say next.

He chuckles, so amused with your reactions. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” The regret is so clearly faux, but still endearing, nonetheless. “Please, carry on.”

“No.” He leans back like you did, arms crossing stubbornly, sassily jutting his bottom lip out. “I don’t wanna say now.”

“Oh, no, please tell me.” You say with the most stoic look, still mocking him. “How can I go on without knowing?”

“Sarcasm will get you nowhere with me.” He disapproves with a determined smile, knowing he’s successfully getting under your skin.

“I don’t know,” You casually reach and take his drink out of his hand, the straw already between your thumb and index as you swirl the remaining liquid, condensation dripping on your thigh, and Jaemin gets deja vu. “I think you prefer it when I’m mean.”

Maybe you know him better than he thinks. Or maybe you’re just more observant than you let on. You certainly get a kick out of making his dick suffocate, though. Because as Jaemin watches you wrap your glossed lips around the straw he’s just had in his mouth, he feels appallingly turned on. And he really wants to wipe the drop off your thigh exactly like he did last time. He doesn’t. But he does let his deranged mind entertain the thought of using his tongue instead of his thumb. Maybe someday. Hopefully.

“Oh, so now I’ve got a humiliation kink?” He pretends to be offended, watching the movement in your throat as you swallow a gulp of his drink with a disapproving scrunch of your nose.

“You said it, not me.” You put down the drink with a disgusted cough. “Fuck, did you ask for battery acid?”

He giggles at your rapid blinking. “Ruined your flirty antics, did I?”

“Fuck off.” You laugh along, cheeks now rosier than before with the hint of embarrassment.

“Not too much with the bullying. I’ll get a boner.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief at his crudeness, and he feels like he’s thriving. You’re finally speechless. This is what success feels like.

“I could get you fired for that.”

Oh.

“Wait, what? I was just jo–”

“God, you’re such a guy.” You shake your head with mockery, mouth now around your own straw as you sip on what looks like something disgustingly fruity. “You talk like you ownthe biggest pair of balls on planet earth but the second a girl outdoes you, it’s all begging and wah wah wah–”

“Do you ever shut up?” He doesn’t know where the outburst came from, but your confused frown goes straight to his cock, and before he can apologise-

“You shut up.” You clap back with a childlike frown, your ankle nudging his under the table in retaliation, and Jaemin’s competitive nature comes forth.

You’re not winning this one. He refuses to let you. So instead of nudging you back, he hooks his ankle around yours. You don’t ease up - as expected - trying to shove him away with a hand on his knee, glancing around with exaggerated innocence. Your worry about being seen is almost endearing, especially because you’re clearly biting back a smile.

Which is exactly why, instead of letting you go, Jaemin catches your hand and laces his fingers through yours.

Your small, sharp inhale slips past you, unnoticed by everyone except him. Your fingers twitch against his grip, but it holds steady – anchoring you in place – and finally does what he hasn’t managed to do for weeks.

It quiets you.

And Jaemin feels, for once, like he’s won.

Especially when you stop resisting and sink back into your seat, his ankle still tangled with yours, your hand now folded into his.

All you give him is a side-eye sharp enough to pass as affection. And every time he drifts into conversation, he can feel you looking at him. He pretends not to notice, answering with a squeeze of your ankle or a slow stroke of his thumb across your knuckles.

He doesn’t let go when Haechan brings over birthday shots for Jisung. One hand around his glass. The other one still holding yours like it’s instinct.

At some point – quietly, maybe even without meaning to – you lean into his side.

If anyone’s noticed, they don’t say a word. Jaemin’s almost certain that’s because of you. Because if it were anyone else, his friends would’ve made it unbearable by now. But your presence doesn’t really allow for noise like that.

They’ve learned.

The illusion breaks the moment you lean in and whisper that you need the bathroom. And when you slip out of the booth, leaving him wedged between wall and friend, Jaemin can already feel the questions forming.

Still, the ghost of your hand in his makes it worth it.

𓂃𓆩⠀⠀ ⊹𓈒⠀⠀ 🐰⠀⠀ 𓈒⊹ ⠀⠀𓆪𓂃

“Still here, Wiggles?”

You’re leaning against a lamppost waiting for your uber when Jaemin emerges from inside the bar. You really can’t escape this man. Not that you’re trying that hard anyway.

“I’d ask where ‘Wiggles’ came from but not so sure I wanna know.”

He takes his place in front of you, looking as effortless and unbothered as he always does. “You’re always trying to wiggle away from me.” He discloses with a performative pout, lips shining more than before. He must’ve applied lip balm after you exited.

“Right. And you won’t let me.” You squint your eyes as though emphasising a complaint. You’re sure he can see right through it anyway.

“I would hate to deprive you of the joy of my presence.” He flashes you a bunny-like smile with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. “You cold?” He asks with a sniffle as he catches the little shiver that cuts through you.

“Nah, I’m good.” You check your phone again. “My uber’s here in two mins anyway.”

He nods, but doesn’t move to head back inside, eyes remaining fixed on you. “Did you have fun?”

You want to tease, make a comment about his earlier antics, but his question sounds genuine, and you don’t think you'd want to go into that right now anyway. Not when there’s a time limit. “I did, yeah. You?”

“Oh, I had the most fun ever.” He drags the word, clearly not able to hold a serious conversation for more than four seconds.

“At least you keep yourself entertained.”

He hums mischievously, taking a step closer. The shadows from the streetlight and the bar lights make one side of his face glow in yellow and pink. “You never answered my question, you know.”

He’s standing close enough that you have to tilt your head slightly to look at him properly. “Which one?”

Before he can answer, a car engine roars, ending your conversation prematurely.

He’s grinning, but he almost looks disappointed, like an opportunity was snatched right out of his hands. “I’ll tell you another time.”

Your uber pulls up, and you nod at the driver with a smile, letting him know he’s got the right person. Before you can lift a hand, Jaemin’s opening the door to the backseat for you.

“Bed time for you, wiggles.” He steps aside to make space for you, hand still on the car door when you turn to look at him before getting in. “I’ll tell Sung you stayed until late.” He reassures, indicating that the birthday boy is at a level of intoxication that most likely will compromise his memory.

For a reason unbeknownst to you, there’s a feeling of hesitation sitting in your chest. You’re reluctant to leave. Not just because you’ve had such a fun night. It’s the boy in front of you that poses an obstacle, as always. It’s how he’s made you feel all night. It’s how he’s looking at you now. It’s how he’s also still glued to the ground, not making an effort to end the night either.

“Make sure he drinks some water.” You opt to say, and Jaemin’s twitching mouth catches your attention. You feel like he can read your unease through your body language. Like he can read your mind. “Right, well, good–”

It’s funny how you’ve always thought you had the upper hand in most situations in life. Jaemin was definitely one of those situations. Until now. Until he shut you up for the second time in one night. Only this time, with his mouth on yours. It's not searing, nor is it the kind of kiss that knocks the air out of your lungs. To your surprise, it’s soft. His lips are slow against yours, moving lazily, like he’s got all the time in the world, and you surprise yourself by finally giving in to the desire you’ve suppressed for what seems like too long. Your hand finds itself on his nape, pulling him in with more determination, but with a delicate swipe of his tongue across your bottom lip, he’s gone.

“Goodnight, partner.” The whisper feels hot against your tingly lips, his smile is something you can only describe as wicked, and with that, he squeezes your waist in a way that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps before stepping away. He’s walking back inside before you can utter a word or offer any type of reaction to what just occurred, something you should’ve expected by now. Because it’s Jaemin. And Jaemin is unpredictable.

What you also know is that a kiss that short shouldn’t have melted your brain the way it did.

When you’re settled in the back of the car, it finally dawns on you– if he hadn’t pulled away, you wouldn’t have either. If Na Jaemin had kept kissing you, it is highly likely that you would’ve dragged him in the backseat of this uber with you. And the faint heat between your thighs feels like a personal attack your body wasn’t prepared for. But what’s embarrassing is how willingly you would've let him take care of it. Or make more of a mess if he pleased.

Your hazy brain keeps blaming the alcohol you’ve consumed, but as you sit there drowning in your overflowing thoughts, driving through campus and trying not to rub your thighs together, your thudding heart is telling you otherwise.

𓂃𓆩⠀⠀ ⊹𓈒⠀⠀ 🐰⠀⠀ 𓈒⊹ ⠀⠀𓆪𓂃

Since you started working with Jaemin, it’s become known to you that he’s a very punctual guy. Never late, and if not on time, then most likely early. So when you turn up for your first shift of the week on Monday – thankfully a quiet one – and Jaemin is nowhere to be found, the first thought that crosses your mind is that he’s quit. That he kissed you just because he’d had enough of your attitude and endless negativity. And now that he’s barely broken through those, he’s had enough of chasing after you.

You could ignore his absence and go about your day. It’s the wise option. But your phone is already in your hands and your thumbs are typing away.

You: why is your friend not at work?

Sung: why do you ask

You: ??

Sung: he’s off this week

Sung: smth about a lab project thing he needs to prepare for

You: 👍

Sung: he knew you were gonna ask me

You: lol

Sung: apparently you’re predictable 💀

Great. So now you’re being mocked by who used to be your sweet friend Jisung. Fuck your nosiness. Or neediness in this instance. Needy for Na Jaemin? You? No. No. No. Absolutely the fuck not.

But then why are you already dreading dealing with customers without his hushed teasing comments? Or the provocative wiggling of his eyebrows when someone asks for your number in addition to their drink. Or the way he somehow appears beside you whenever a customer starts being difficult. Or how he always makes sure to add straws to a drink when you forget, even though he’s worked there for far less than you have. Or...

You suddenly come to the realisation that Jaemin has somehow become such a big part of your weeks. Like a habit you would struggle getting rid of.

And what’s worse now is that since that night he randomly kissed you and made your brain short circuit, you’ve not been able to shake the thought of him. The memory of him. The feeling of him. Of his lips on yours, of his hand in yours, of his mouth curling around the word ‘partner’. A word you once were so indifferent to that has now acquired a completely different meaning to its actual one.

Jaemin has really become your partner at work. And generally, someone you look forward to seeing. Someone you seek but can’t seem to find in your other coworkers. Or anyone you know really.

And as ridiculous as it may seem. Later in the week, three shifts in without him, you can’t deny a fact that about two months ago wouldn’t have even crossed your mind.

You miss Na Jaemin and the vibrant colours that come with him.

Work without him is awfully blue.

𓂃𓆩⠀⠀ ⊹𓈒⠀⠀ 🐰⠀⠀ 𓈒⊹ ⠀⠀𓆪𓂃

Jaemin’s never lacked initiative. Ever. Not as a kid, not as a teenager, not as an adult. He’s always been one to go for things he wanted. Whether it be a goal, a dream, a plan, a piece of clothing, a book, a video game. Anything. And when it comes to his love life, well let’s say he’s never lacked initiative in that department either. The only thing he’s lacking there is curiosity. Or intrigue. It’s always the same with every girl. No surprises. He knows what he wants, knows what he gets. And it’s not that he’s always been successful. He’s had girls reject him before. Or ghost him even. But he’s only cared until he’s found his next conquest, which doesn’t normally take more than a Saturday night and a few tequila shots.

He’s always viewed himself as someone who comes across as light-hearted. Harmless even. Certainly not intimidating. He knows that for a fact. People look at him and smile openly. They welcome him in. They embrace his quirkiness. They see him as someone who holds no weight. No depth. No substance. And he’s always been fine with that.

Until recently. Until he got a taste of what it’s like to be taken seriously. To be levelled with. To be challenged.

Until you.

Until he felt curious and genuinely intrigued.

Not in a poetic ‘she’s so different to everyone else’ type of way. Because you’re not. You blend in quite well with everyone around you. Yeah, maybe you’re more on the grumpy side most of the time, but who isn’t nowadays. You don’t make rooms light up. You’re not the centre of attention. You’re just... you. Sarcastic to the bone. Short-tempered. Like most girls he’s encountered these three and a half years he’s been a student. Yet, you sometimes look at him like you fear him. Like he’s someone you’re not allowed to let in. Like he’s someone that comes with consequences.

And once again, Jaemin knows what he wants. He just doesn’t know what he could get. He knows how to approach you. He knows there’s a way in. Just isn't sure if there’s a way out. And if there is... does that involve you and him both or just him? What if he finds his way in and then you kick him out? He knows that’s very much a possibility.

But.

She kissed me back. He keeps repeating the words in his head. The memory of it even more. The little sound of surprise you let out. Your hand touching his neck, inviting him in.

He’s deep in the reminiscing state when he’s jerked out abruptly, a soft hand tight around his wrist, dragging him towards god knows where. It doesn’t take him longer than two seconds to recognise the back of your head. Your shoulders squeezing through the crowd of the house party, not a single glance thrown behind you, just your fingers clinging onto his skin, making him feel like he’s still daydreaming.

He’s sure he’s not. But there’s no realistic scenario in his head in which you’d be taking him up the stairs of a house whose owner he barely knows.

A few steps and a door later, he’s in a bedroom. A very girly one. Plushies, fairy lights, candles, heavy perfume lingering in the air, name it. The same door you dragged him through is slammed shut and locked and Jaemin is shoved into the fluffiest blanket ever, the bed creaking slightly covering the yelp that escapes his lungs. His hands reflexively catch his upper body weight, propping him up. And after what seems like the longest walk in history, you’re looking straight at him. Staring down at him, or more accurately, peering into his soul, never having looked more intimidating, and before Jaemin can question any of your actions, you’re stepping closer, eyebrow raising in what he can only assume is frustration.

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh fucking shitting shit. He shouldn’t have kissed you.

“What the fuck is your game plan here?” You demand, sounding enraged, and Jaemin can’t think of the last time he had such a negative reaction to a kiss. He’s had girls tell him he’s a bad kisser, but they’ve still kissed him again after that. One girl even dodged him once, but she also pounced on him not longer than an hour later.

“I um–” He can feel his jaw twitching with nerves, refusing to slacken and give him the opportunity to give you a satisfactory response.

“You what?” You take a step forward, and even the tiniest movement from your side feels like a threat. “Why did you kiss me?”

Here we go. It’s out in the open.

“Do you even remember doing it?”

“Wha– yes.” Well, look at that. He can speak. Fucking well done, loser. “Of course, I remember.”

“Oh, congrats!” You give him a condescending smile, as though congratulating him for being able to utter a total of three words. “Do you remember why?”

He knows why. “I wanted to?”

You blink twice, nostrils flaring as you inhale deeply.

“I’m sorry if–”

“If what? You overstepped? Confused me? Do you understand that we work together? I’m not doing this work drama thing just so you can–”

“I confused you?” It’s the only part that matters out of all the things you listed. “How?”

Your features contort in bafflement, eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s what you care about?”

“Tell me.” He is close to pleading, butt moving to the edge of the bed, knees touching yours as he inches closer. “Please.”

“That’s not the point, Jaemin!” Your hands raise in exasperation, feet taking a step back, your warmth absent again as you turn around and walk toward the door. He’s already accepted the fact that you’re about to exit the room and the situation, but you halt instead. And all Jaemin can see is your back. Your shoulders moving in sync with your deep breathing have him captivated. He can’t look anywhere else.

“What is then?” The question slips without permission. It’s only when you turn around that he’s very aware of his mouth and how it’s moved on its own accord.

If looks could kill, Jaemin would be dead now. “The point is that you don’t think. You just do things.”

“I do think.” He doesn’t waste a second to defend himself. Because he knows he’s right, even if your scoff completely disregards his statement. Regardless of his calm nature, Jaemin’s jaw ticks at your reaction. And so does his brain. “I think about you an awful lot. And you know it.”

You slump against the door with a groan, face dropping into your hands, and Jaemin doesn’t understand why you’re so vexed. Is it really that much of a burden that he likes you?

“Why did you bring me here, if you’re just gonna insult me?” He’s on his feet before he completes the sentence, voice raising slightly, making you look up in subtle surprise quickly concealed by your anger. “Just say you’re not interested in me like that and–”

“Insult you?” You scowl, throwing the word right back at him like it disgusts you. “How am I possibly insulting you? By trying to understand what you want from me?”

“What about you, huh?” He steps closer, despite his effort to hold back. “What do you want?”

“Stop deflecting.” His eyes catch the clenching of your fists at your sides, and the thought of you fighting the urge to punch him, exhilarates him. Does he really get under your skin that much?

“I’m not–”

“The fuck you smiling at, you clown?” Is he? Oh shit. He hadn’t even clocked that. “There’s literally nothing funny about this.” The impact of your hands on his chest shocks him, shoving him back into his previous spot on the bed. Clearly you like him sat down. And it’s no secret to him that he doesn’t mind looking up at you. He’d happily get on his knees if you asked him.

He needs to control his thoughts. And if he’s going to do that, he can’t have you standing above him or he’s going to lose all sense. So he moves to get up again. Futilely. Because you shove him back down before he can even try. He refuses to lose the battle. He tries again. Fails. And this time you push him so hard he ends up on his back. Which snaps his compromised patience.

“Stop–” He grabs onto your wrists, jerking you forward. “Fucking–” Pulls again when you fight back. “Pushing me.” He manoeuvres you, not letting you crush him, and somehow, in all the mess of whining and grabbing and yanking, he’s got you on the bed with him.

You both somehow land on your backs, in an awkward position. Half your torso is on him, the other half on the mattress, one of his arms crushed under you as opposed to the one caging you and holding you hostage despite your incessant squirming and twisting.

“Stop it, you nutcase.” He can’t help but laugh, not on purpose. Not to piss you off. The situation is just too amusing for him to stay as serious as you want him to. He still tightens his hold around you, forearm, pressed against your collarbones, hand gripping your shoulder until you gradually still your crazy limbs. “You done?”

Your erratic breathing resembles his, making him feel less pathetic, and Jaemin can’t ignore the intense thrumming of your heart through your back. You can probably feel his; beating wilder than it ever has. He can feel it in his ears.

Your pliancy bemuses him, but he thanks all the forces above for it, and he sighs in relief when you let him roll you onto your side so he can get his arm back. Before you can escape, even though you make no such advance, he drapes his newly functional arm over the dip of your waist, keeping you in an almost spooning position but still leaving space between your back and his front.

“We can talk or we can keep scrapping like cats,” He speaks calmly again, and by the movement of your shoulders he knows you can hear him clearly. “Up to you.”

“You wanna talk now? Like this?” You ask in disbelief, already starting to get on his nerves again.

“Yes. Now.” He drags you closer, expecting some sort of protest when he leaves just a couple centimetres between your bodies, settling close enough for his face to bury in the citrusy combination of your perfume and shampoo. Or moisturiser. Or whatever it is that makes him feel all warm and fuzzy. Regardless,he tries his best to stay as focused as possible. “If you don’t mind, I’ll start.”

You try to turn around. “I do mind actually–”

“Don’t care. I’m talking.” The arm he’s got around your middle keeps you in place, and he feels your sharp exhale against the arm your head is resting on. “I feel like you’re either in denial or you just have no fucking clue what’s going on here, which would be impossible considering you’re one of the smartest people I know.”

Silence. Good, you’re finally listening to him.

“Which leaves us with the first option.” He lifts his head a little, the tip of his nose touching the end of your jawline. He adores the way you shrink away from him, face tucked even further into his elbow, the heat radiating off your cheek and onto his skin. “And that would be a shame, cause that means you’re missing out.”

He feels movement on his arm again. Maybe your lips pursing, maybe your nose scrunching, definitely something. “On what?”

He takes that as his cue to eliminate the tiny space left between you. Chest to back now, ass to crotch, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “Me. And you. Sitting in a tree. Kissing.”

The tiny shiver that runs through you is something that affects him more than it should. Something so minimal yet powerful enough to go straight to his head, shaking up whatever is left in there.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” You mutter stubbornly into his skin, a finger slowly tracing one of the veins on his extended arm, like you’re trying to distract yourself. “I’m not in denial. I’m perfectly aware of whatever weird vibe we have going on.”

Interesting. “Okay...?”

“I just don’t understand what you want from me.” Your index reaches his wrist, and when he expects you to withdraw, you trace further instead, onto the lines of his unclenched palm. It also mirrors what you’re doing beneath all of this. Trying to figure him out. So, he instinctively flexes his fingers, palm opening, giving you more space to explore.

He decides to tease. “You want a power point presentation or...?”

“No, I want you to tell me.” The joke clearly doesn’t land. Your tone doesn’t resemble the one your voice carries when you roll your eyes at him. It’s serious, like you’ve had enough of his shit.

He’s not ready to give in just yet, though. “Okay, I’m sensing your preferred type of love language is words of affirmation.”

“Be for real.” You lightly dig your nails into the skin of his palm in a quiet threat, which strangely, goes straight to his dick. That strips him of his playfulness, and he gives in with a sigh, forehead dropping against your shoulder.

“I don’t wanna say the wrong thing– like, I don’t know what you wanna hear. Or what you– like, what if I say something and then things get awkward and–

“Doesn’t matter what I wanna hear.” Your fingers stop tracing and you reach for his other hand this time, the one on your stomach, squeezing in something that feels like reassurance. “There’s no right answer. You already know what you want. You just need to tell me.”

Jaemin really does need to. He’s been dying to tell you. But now he’s actually getting the chance to, he feels slightly dizzy, like he’s experiencing an outer body experience. Like he’s looking at himself from across the room, warning himself, judging himself. He keeps hearing the words ‘watch what you say’, because what if he scares you away? What if you laugh in his face? Or worse, what if you don’t take him seriously?

“I want...”

You hum in anticipation, fingers slithering between his, your warm palm engulfing the top of his, exactly like he did to yours a few nights ago in that booth. Only this time it feels different. It feels like it matters. There’s nothing lighthearted about it. Just like the words he’s struggling to get out.

“I wanna know more about you.” He starts easy, buying himself time. “And I wanna spend time with you. Outside of work.” Your thumb playing with his distracts him from his deafening heartbeat, and he takes a second to swallow, but even that’s too loud. “Think that’s something we can do?”

You turn your head slightly, letting him nuzzle against your cheek. “That’s all?”

“No.” He wants to look at you, but he can’t bring himself to open his eyes. “I want... to make you laugh more.”

“Really?” You question in a tone so genuinely adorable that almost kills him.

“Mm.” He nods, eyes fluttering open when he feels you move his hand with yours a little further down.

“Do you… wanna take me on dates?”

“Yeah.” He nods again, ears focused on your words, but eyes glued to your intertwined hands and the journey the dangerous path they’re trailing down. “Wanna be good to you.”

“Good how?” Your lips graze his cheekbone, hand adamantly still guiding his, ass pushing back into him just a tiny bit, offering enough pressure to make his eyes shut for a second. “Nuh-uh.” You scold when his hand starts moving on its own, moving past the waistband of your skirt, and he immediately halts, letting you have the upper hand quite literally.

He exhales shakily, brain scrambled, struggling to put his thoughts into words. “I dunno, just… wanna do nice things for you and spoil you.”

“That’s sweet.” Your nose cutely nudges his cheek, and Jaemin starts questioning his sanity. “What else?”

“Wanna be able to kiss you whenever I want.” He admits openly, not having searched much in his brain for that one.

“How do you wanna kiss me?” Your locked hands are now just below the hem of your mini skirt, his fingertips brushing your inner thigh, and he can’t help but curl his impatient digits around the fabric. You don’t scold him this time.

Jaemin could easily show you how he wants to kiss you right now. He could so easily grab your face and shove his tongue down your throat. But that’s not what you're asking. You want words. And as much as he hates how obedient he’s become for you, it’s also turning him on. “How do you like to be kissed?”

“Hmm,” You ponder, clearly enjoying the torture you’re putting him through. “Slow. And a little wet.” Perfect. Exactly how he likes it too. Maybe more than just a little wet, but he’s sure you two can meet in the middle. He just needs to actually kiss you first. “Unless we’re fucking.”

He lets out an embarrassing moan at the obscene imagery his brain instantly creates, hips unintentionally grinding into your ass, hard cock now tucked between your cheeks, and he realises he’s got the pads of his fingers digging into the flesh of your inner thigh. So close to where he wants to be. “What about then?”

“Messy.” You mumble into his arm, sounding a little breathless yourself. “Want it really messy then.”

“Messy’s good. I like messy.” He finally cracks, not caring how desperate he sounds. He’s already given up on trying to win with you. He’s been losing ever since the first time he spoke to you. “Anything you want, I’ll fucking do it.”

Your resolve seems to be abandoned too this time, trembling hand leaving his momentarily to bunch up your skirt just enough for easier access. Just above your upper thighs, without revealing what’s underneath. He gulps in anticipation, not making a single move before your hand is back on his, not moving as slow this time, but dragging his fingers across your skin, over to the crease of your thigh and crotch, the seam of your panties moving a tiny bit from the light friction, but not out of the way.

“Shit.” He exhales in awe. “You’re so–”

“Shush.” You whine bashfully, dragging a weak laugh of disbelief out of him. He keeps his mouth shut by landing a long kiss on your shoulder. The first time he’s kissed your skin ever, and he wishes he could do it every day.

“Awh, are you turned on?” He coos, letting his middle finger drag over the fabric of your panties, feeling your wetness seeping through and coating his skin with your essence. It’s so slippery, and sticky, and just so perfect as the light pulse of your clit makes him slightly overflow with need. Your little nod against his arm makes him smile, his teeth sinking on his bottom lip in delight. “I’ll make it better, if you let me.”

“Mm, please.” It sounds more like an instruction than a polite request, and your fingers wrapping tightly around his wrist make it clear. You’re not begging him, you’re just demanding what you deserve. And he’s going to give it to you on a golden platter. He’ll give you anything you ask for. He’ll get on his knees for you if you say the word. As long as you keep letting him touch you. As long as you keep letting him please you.

“Fuck, I’m so into you.” He whispers needily, cock twitching in its confines, jeans suffocatingly tight as he tries to get some relief through subtle rolls of his hips, almost too worried he’ll accidentally start rutting into you like a dog in heat. Your drenched folds separating as he slips his finger between them, as much as your panties deem possible, don’t help him at all, especially when accompanied by the tiniest mewls you’re letting out each time he softly rubs over your already swollen nub. “Guide me again. Show me where you want me.”

Your fingers join his again, positioning his middle and ring fingers directly above your covered clit, panties still somehow clinging on even through all the slick that’s gathered at the seat of them. “Here, slow at first.” You urge him to stimulate the tender spot in small circles, fingers moving above his to show him how much pressure you like. Your deep sigh gives him all the confirmation he needs that he’s touching you just right.

Jaemin watches your reactions over your shoulder. The rise and fall of your chest with each shallow breath. The glimpse of cleavage beneath your crop top. The hem of your skirt hiding your joined hands and everything they're doing underneath.

Normally, he'd want a better view. Being a visual person, he would've found an excuse to hike your skirt higher or reposition you just enough to watch exactly what he was doing to your pussy, but right now, he couldn’t care less. Because somehow, this is hotter. Not seeing everything. Not having you bare beneath him. Just watching your body give him away, little by little. It doesn't compare to anything he's had before. And he has a feeling it never will.

Your hand comes into view when it leaves his, letting him take over, but it quickly takes its place around the back of his neck, fingers slowly sneaking through his hair, forcing his eyes shut at the soft feel of your touch. He keeps rubbing your clit just how you showed him, and lets you pull him close enough that his forehead brushes your temple, resting there for a moment, keeping his eyes closed and focusing on the sweet sounds he coaxes out of you and the slick that keeps accumulating beneath his fingers. He contemplates slipping his hand inside your panties to feel you properly. He’d be lying if he said he isn’t dying to. But you haven’t given him that green light yet, so he adds a little more pressure on your clit instead.

“Jaem–” Your hips buck into his hand, the needy reaction almost funny, but he contains his laugh with a bite on his lip and gently cups your pussy in his palm, preventing you from running away.

“Relax, Wiggles.” He says softly, landing a tiny kiss on your cheek before running his fingers over the expanse of your folds and then resuming the circular motions on your clit, a little faster than before but still gentle. Still giving you a lot less than he really wants to.

The harsh tug you give his hair makes him grunt in surprise, taking the gesture as a warning. He harshly grinds his cock into your ass in retaliation, earning a breathless laugh from you that brings a smile to his face, which spreads wider when you twist your neck to take a look at him, and he feels like it’s the first time you’re looking at him without a threatening edge in your eyes. He shuffles as close as he can, face hovering over yours as he takes in the pleasure littering your features like a canvas. He would kill to have his camera with him and snap a picture of it. His cock throbs with want as you slowly blink up at him, clearly taking him in too, and you’re not subtle when you let your eyes drift down to his lips momentarily.

“You wanna kiss me, don’t you?” He teases, already knowing the answer but enjoying the little crease of frustration between your eyebrows a little too much. You give him a small nod, letting your gaze drift down again. He still doesn’t budge, fingers slowing down too, on a mission to punish you a little for the painful hard-on he’s got going on because of you. “Say please.”

There’s a look on your face he’s positive he’s never had the delight of encountering before, one that obliterates any pride he’s got left. The puppy eyes you’ve put on are doing enough pleading. So much that you don’t even have to say it, and Jaemin instinctively lowers his face close enough to nuzzle his nose with yours, something he’s not sure he’s ever done with anyone before. He’s never felt the need to. He doesn’t even realise he’s doing it until you raise your head to initiate the so desired kiss, your lips brushing his lightly for half a second. He pulls back just a fraction, taking one last look at your flushed face, savouring the haze in your eyes just a little longer, but a particular stroke of his fingers makes your eyes shut in pleasure. And it’s the sweet whimper you let out that makes him finally close the gap, tongue already slipping past your parted lips.

He kisses you exactly how you said you liked to be kissed. Slow and wet. Not too sloppy, no teeth. Just his lips dragging against yours, head tilted enough for his tongue to sneak inside your mouth just a little, and you match his rhythm in no time. Your mouth parts to let him in, your taste just like he remembers it. A little sugary from the drinks you’ve had earlier, enough to make him sigh from the relief of finally being able to experience this. Just like he’s daydreamed for what feels like too long. Maybe even better.

You swiftly flop onto your back, the movement catching him off guard, but your hands engulfing his face in them get him back on track. He breaks the kiss for just a second, so that he can steal a glance at his hand working between your now spread legs.

“Don’t stop.” You whine needily, your hips arching off the bed, chasing for more as you bury a hand in his hair, bringing his mouth back to yours.

“Fuck, baby.” He moans all muffled, sounding completely wrecked even though it should be the other way around. Your tongue coaxes his lips open this time, forcing itself inside his eager mouth, and he can’t help but cheekily suck on it as his fingers move on their own accord, slipping down, teasing your entrance over the soaked fabric of your underwear. You’re so wet he can feel the outline of your pussy lips as if there’s no barrier, and god, he wishes his face was buried between your legs. Wishes he could smell you and taste you for hours. The thought of devouring your cunt while your legs shake and lock around his head, suffocating him, sends a fresh jolt of arousal straight to his cock. And it hurts. It’s painful not to thrust against your hip, seeking for any kind of relief, so he does, letting you swallow his low whines as you keep him close.

“Mmh– can you–”

“Mm, what?” He nods frantically, desperate to give you more.

“Just...” You keep kissing him, one hand gently caressing his jaw, while the other finds his again, and before he can question you, you’re dragging his hand up until it reaches the waistband of your panties. And then you’re urging him to slip inside. He internally celebrates and obliges without a word; tongue tangling deliciously with yours as he quickly dips two of his fingers between your folds with a deep groan, quickly finding your clit again, picking up where he left off, with tight circles on your cute nub. Fuck, it’s pulsing, and he wonders if your pussy would pulse just like that around his cock, swallowing him. “Faster.”

Again, he obeys, denying you anything never an option, and he instantly starts stroking your clit with three of his fingers, fast and hard, from side to side, and your mouth parts against his in a silent moan, the vibration getting a reaction that claims a place in his brain. “Good?”

“Yeah,” You nod desperately. “I’m close.”

He nods back. “Want my fingers inside?”

“No, no.” You plead, clearly too in the moment to care. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

His free hand wraps around the back of your neck, holding you in place as he gives you what you want. “You’re so wet.” He mumbles between frantic breaths. “Didn’t know you wanted me that bad.”

You whine in protest, your panting making it impossible for you to speak words other than a broken: “Oh my god.”

“Fuck, you’re shaking.” He whispers, in complete awe of your pleasure, admiring how your face contorts, how your eyes roll back, how your legs tremble. “Don’t hold it, let go.” He encourages gently, able to see right through your self-control, and eager to demolish it. Even now, even on the brink of an orgasm you clearly want to reach, you try to squirm away from his touch, your legs clamping around his hand stubbornly, preventing any movement.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love it when you’re being difficult, but right now is not the time.” He huffs in frustration, hand fidgeting, fingers now squished between the plush of your thighs, unintentionally coating your flesh in your arousal. “If you wanna cum before someone finds us in here, I suggest you spread those legs again.”

The hand still nudged in his hair pulls him closer again, but he resists, not in the mood to give into your wishes anymore. He recognises the distress and conflict in your eyes. You’re not being stubborn, you’re just embarrassed. What for, he’s not sure, but he likes it. Because it’s unlike you.

It does click in his head, though. “I’ll keep kissing you if you let me make you cum.”

And with that, the clenching of your thighs eases up a little. And Jaemin can’t fight the amused laugh that bubbles in his chest. Because bribery does work. And he’s finally connected the dots.

You only got shy when he stopped kissing you so he could watch you. And, suddenly, so much makes sense, but he chooses to lock that thought away in the back of his mind. For now. Because your legs are parting for him again.

“Yeah?” He coos, fingers now moving freely, momentarily dipping down, collecting slick arousal that’s trickled out of your entrance before returning to your clit. He nods along with you when you let your eyes shut in bliss. “That’s it. Good girl.”

He doesn’t let you react to the praise, mouth slotting with yours like he promised, silencing whatever protest was bubbling in your throat. He knows he was treading on thin ice with that, repeatedly having been made aware how you’re not about to let a man patronise you or degrade you. Ever. Your boundaries have always been clearer than water, the harsh tug on his hair proves that much. But Jaemin’s not backing down again. He’s had enough of your shit, and so he kisses you harder, sloppier.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” You tug harder, making him grunt and rub you in quicker and firmer circles.

“Shut. Up.” He almost doesn’t recognise the harshness in his own voice, never having felt so annoyed at someone and wanting to please them at the same time. It’s usually one or the other. It seems you’ve proven him wrong once again. “Be grateful I’m not bending you over and fucking the shit out of you.”

He pulls on your hair too, his level of roughness not enough to match yours, but enough to have your teeth biting down on his bottom lip, and he’s pretty sure you’ve drawn blood.

“Fine.” He challenges, his limits already crossed. “Have it your way.”

His knees hit the floor before he can think, his hands grabbing on your thighs, dragging your body to the edge of the bed, and before you can let out more than a yelp, Jaemin’s pulling your panties to the side, revealing your dripping centre.

“What the–”

“So cute.” He mumbles as he watches his middle and ring fingers slip inside your clenching hole too easily, the wetness making everything nice and slippery for him, and when he curls them, your back arches. Too fucking pretty.

“Jaem, oh my god.” You whimper out weakly, clouding his already jumbled head.

“Fuck, I love that.” He whispers mindlessly, circling your visibly swollen nub with his tongue once. “You sound so sweet.”

He can tell it’s finally (thankfully) game over for you, when your legs open further for him, and he wastes no time. He soon finds a rhythm with his fingers that has your walls tensing, but he keeps hitting what he believes is the right spot. And when he angles a little more upwards, his doubts are instantly gone.

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck, right there.” You exclaim in despair, chest heaving, legs quaking just like before.

“I got you.” He mumbles against your folds, then engulfs your clit in his mouth, sucking gently while drawing slow circles with his tongue, finally able to enjoy your taste like he’s always wanted. A satisfied hum escapes him when your hands slip in his hair again, holding him in place as your pussy quivers around his digits. The tighter you get, the louder the squelching noises become, and when he fucks his fingers into you a little faster, he knows you’re finally climaxing.

“Shit, I’m cumming.” You exhale abruptly, like you’re caught off guard, legs closing in around his head, only this time, he doesn’t mind. Far from it. If he could suffocate between your thighs, he’d probably thank you.

Your little cries are more than gratifying. The kneading of your walls as he tries his best to drag out your high goes straight to his erection, his balls feeling so heavy and sore, and when your nails lightly scratch his scalp, he feels his abdominal muscles contract, pelvis involuntarily thrusting into nothing. It’s when his cock throbs painfully that he knows it’s inevitable, and before he can even pull away from your core, Jaemin is shamefully releasing in his pants. Untouched. Coating his boxers in his own cum.

He blames it on the edging and the fact that he's been sporting a hard-on for at least half an hour, but deep down he knows it’s just his unfiltered want for you. He knows it’s you. You and everything about you.

He can hear your overstimulated whines when the haze starts to dissipate, and he slowly slips his fingers out, realising that his mouth is just aimlessly parted against your folds, nose squished against your pubic bone as he tries to regain his breath.

“You okay?” He pants, sounding like he’s just ran a marathon instead of given head.

You let out a fucked-out laugh. “I feel like I should be asking you that.”

“Shut up.” He laughs with you, forehead defeatedly resting on your tummy as he tries to conceal his hot face. Fuck, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt embarrassed in front of a woman. It doesn’t help that he’s currently on his knees either. Your soft fingers carefully combing through his damp hair offer a little bit of calmness, however.

“Is that, like, a recurring theme or should I feel honoured?” You tease, the light heartedness in your tone making him smile like an idiot. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you like this before.

“Keep testing me and you’ll find out.” He feigns annoyance, landing a light slap on your outer thigh before squeezing the flesh hard.

You whine in protest, and even though he can’t see your face, he can picture the frown you’re sporting. His imagination not being enough, he decides to lift his head so he can look at you properly, only to find that you’re already staring at him.

“Hi.” He lands a quick kiss just below your bellybutton, where your top doesn’t meet your skirt.

“Hi.” Your lips twitching in a half-smile urge him to kiss your skin again, and then once again until you’re giggling. “Stop.”

He hums against your skin in fake contemplation, already knowing he doesn’t want to, but then he glances down between your legs, drenched core still on display, puffy folds glistening from before, panties still messily pushed to the side, and when you attempt to shut your legs, he beats you to it, holding them in place, refusing to miss out on the pretty sight. So enticing.

“Can I clean it up?” He asks without a second thought, thumbs pulling the lips apart to reveal more of what a mess he’s made, your pretty clit still protruding a little from the attention it received earlier. He looks up at you, taking in your bemused eyes, and he chuckles at your cuteness. “It’s a subtle way of saying I wanna lick your–”

“I know what it means,” You cut him off with a pointed look, clearly disapproving of his crude choice of words. “I’ve just never had anyone ask that before.”

He clicks his teeth in judgment, internally laughing at the joke he’s about tο make. “Really? Chenle not that freaky then?”

“Ew!” You shriek adorably, gently kicking him on the shoulder. “Don’t talk about him when you’re between my legs.”

“Why not?” He wiggles his eyebrows provocatively, face already inching closer to where he wants to be.

“Because it’s weird?”

“You had no issue with me watching him rail you.” He blows air on your clit on purpose, watching you squirm in his hold, his hands firm on the backs of your thighs. “I gotta admit, though...” He catches your little hole clenching. “You weren’t as loud then as you were tonight.” He chuckles when your hands come up to cover your face with a pained groan. “Don’t be shy. I loved it.”

“Just fucking do it.” You huff in frustration and buck your hips towards his face.

He leaves a wet kiss on your inner thigh, sucking the supple flesh teasingly, before he darts his tongue out, licking a wide stripe between your folds, doing his best to gather as much of your essence as he can. He repeats the action again and again, clearly not doing a very good job as the more he laps you up, the more arousal keeps gathering at your opening and your whimpers get louder and louder.

“Such a sweet pussy.” He relishes in your taste and decides he needs to stop when he feels his dick starting to stir back to life in his pants, otherwise you’ll be stuck in this room for god knows how long. With a gentle kiss on your clit, he withdraws and pulls your underwear back into place before giving your thighs a gentle but condescending pat. “All done.”

Before you can sit up, he’s crawling up your body, caging you with his arms, and fuck his life, you look so good under him. So soft and pliant, legs on either side of his waist. Nothing like the girl he knows from work. He likes both versions equally, but this one he doesn’t think he could ever get used to.

“You’re hard again.” You wiggle your hips against his, cock flush against your thankfully covered centre.

“Yeah, and you’re still wet.” He responds with a subtle roll, cock sitting uncomfortably in his damp boxers, but nothing he can’t handle. “So, please can we go before I fuck you in some stranger’s bed?”

You snort, arms loosely wrapping around his neck, urging him closer, and he easily caves in. This kiss is soft, no tongue or urgency, just little sucks on your bottom lip, until he’s temporarily satiated his need for you.

“Come on, don’t want my friends thinking you’ve kidnapped me.” He leaves another chaste smooch on your lips and gets up with a dramatic groan, already missing your body heat against him.

A few minutes later, when he’s leaning against a wall next to the bathroom, waiting for you while pretending he’s aimlessly scrolling through his phone, Jaemin thinks back to how he ended up in this situation in the first place, and realises he still doesn’t really know where he stands with you. Yes, clearly, you’re both attracted to each other, and there’s no doubt in his mind that he likes you. But do you genuinely like him? Or do you just find him hot and fuckable? What if you’re just getting bored of whatever arrangement you have with Chenle and Jaemin’s just another distraction until you find someone you’re actually interested in?

“Thanks for waiting.” You interrupt his thoughts, ready to head for the stairs, but Jaemin feels like if he doesn’t clear this up now, he might lose the courage to do so later.

“Wait, hang on a sec.” He gently pulls you back by your hand, and you quickly face him, seeming clueless about his internal turmoil, eyes blinking up at him curiously.

“Is something wrong?” You ask carefully, worry laced with your tone, making Jaemin’s stomach do a little flip.

“No.” He shakes his head, and smiles when your shoulders drop in relief. “I guess I’m just still a little confused.”

“About?” You squeeze his hand, a tiny gesture of encouragement that makes him feel warm and fuzzy.

“Well...” He’s suddenly incapable of holding your gaze, your fingers posing as a distraction as observes your hand in his and how good they look like that. “I mean what I said. I want to, like, you know…”

“Be good to me?” You tease, referring to what he said earlier in the heat of the moment. Not that he didn’t mean it.

“Mm, that too,” Both hands are now playing with yours like it’s a fidget toy. “But also spend more time with you and go on dates and stuff. If you also want that. Obviously.” He lets out a nervous laugh. God, he sounds pathetic.

You step closer, leaving no space between your bodies, and Jaemin feels himself relax a little, finally able to look at you. You’ve got an adorable grin on your face, as though you can already see right through him. Like the idea of making his heart go crazy is so enticing to you. “I also want that.”

“Really?” He perks up, excitement already brewing in his chest at the thought of holding your hand in public.

“Mhm,” You nod, hand flexing in his, fingers extending like he’s just proposed to you and you’re waiting for the ring. Maybe he should start saving up for one at this point. “But–”

“But what? Why but?” The questions roll off his tongue without permission, and he hates how desperate he sounds.

“Relax, loser. I’m not rejecting you.” You laugh at his misery. It’s kind of hot. But he won’t admit that. At least not right now. “I was just gonna say, I’d rather we kept it low-key at work. If that’s okay with you.”

“I can do low-key.” He says quicker than he’d like to. “I’ll behave.”

“Okay, well, don’t behave too much.” You poke him in the chest with a smirk that makes him feel all tingly and giddy. He feels like a teenager speaking to their crush for the first time.

“Oh?” He pouts playfully, fluttering his eyelashes like he knows you hate, his arm loosely circling your waist, hand resting at the small of your back, slowly pulling you close, the proximity clearly something you’re both still getting used to. “Why? Would that be too sus?”

“It’s good you’re self-aware.” You say sarcastically, your free hand coming to squish his cheeks, surprising him. “Has anyone ever told you your eyelashes are, like, freakishly long?”

He laughs loudly at the random observation, remembering that time you said something about him flying if he blinked too fast. “Yeah, you.”

“Have I?” You tilt his face, evidently too busy inspecting his lashes to actually pay attention to what he’s saying. “When?”

“Right before you gave me the bedroom eyes and made me watch you–”

“Shhhhh.” You squeeze his cheeks harder, making it impossible for him to finish his sentence. “You’re pretty, but you talk too much.”

“Mmph–” He’s not able to complain, not due to your tight hold on his face, but mainly because you’re suddenly shutting him up with your mouth on his. You leave a loud smooch on his lips, and then a second one, and before you can pull away, he doesn’t even realise he’s got a hand in your hair, holding you in place.

Your hand trails from his face to his chest, resting there, allowing him to tilt his head so he can deepen the kiss. And just when he’s about to turn you around and pin you against the wall–

“Woah!” Jisung’s high pitched exclamation makes you both pull away in surprise. And when Jaemin looks up, there’s his younger friend, barely able to stand up due to the amount of alcohol he’s consumed, yet enough in touch with his surroundings to understand what you two are up to. “Ew, ew, ew, ew, absolutely not, stop it right now, that’s vile. Bye.” He slurs and abruptly sits down at the top of the stairs with his forehead resting on the wall.

Jaemin struggles not to burst out laughing when he takes in your comical expression, eyes wide, lips pursed tightly to contain your own snicker. And then he internally groans, realising that he’s probably Jisung’s saviour for tonight. “I think I’m gonna have to take him home.”

“Yeah, that’s all you.”

It’s maybe three or four quick kisses later that Jaemin, hesitantly of course, manages to find the will to pull away from you.

𓂃𓆩⠀⠀ ⊹𓈒⠀⠀ 🐰⠀⠀ 𓈒⊹ ⠀⠀𓆪𓂃

You’ve learnt to expect everything from Na Jaemin. At this point you could say you’ve mastered the art of not getting surprised at things he says or does, regardless of the outrageousness they sometimes carry. You were confident that his unfiltered and blunt way of navigating life didn’t really faze you much anymore.

Until last night.

Last night, you were surprised. Last night, you were fazed. Pleasantly so, but still. What you were expecting were vague answers, boyish excuses, charming batting of long eyelashes and maybe the distracting smile that always gets him out of trouble. What you were not expecting was your insufferable coworker getting on his knees for you and giving you one of the most mind-blowing orgasms you’ve ever experienced, right after admitting he wants to date you (to put it plainly). What you also didn’t expect was his neediness. And how weak it made you feel. So much that you left the party wondering what his cum tastes like.

Who in their right mind wonders that about someone? Clearly you. Because clearly, you’re not in your right mind. You can’t be. Since when can you not control your impulses? To the point where you allow yourself to drag a man into a stranger’s room only to ask for explanations you don’t really need anyway? Since when do men’s explanations matter to you? Na Jaemin’s out of all men’s thoughts should be something of low significance to you. So why were you so bothered? Yeah. He kissed you out of the blue. So what? Something so easy to ignore, yet it had been gnawing at your brain like a parasite. A stupid fucking kiss that tasted like rum and coke.

You're still in bed, staring at the ceiling when your phone starts going off, slightly startling you out of your snoozy state.

“Hello?” You pick up without properly checking the screen.

“You sound cute when you’re sleepy.” Before you can even finish processing him, Jaemin’s annoyingly chirpy voice blasts through the speaker, breaking through the quiet of your room. Of course he’s a morning person.

“How’d you get my number?” You grumble, still not entirely awake but oddly pleased to hear him.

He must be in the middle of typing as you hear the keyboard clicking in the background. “Work group chat, silly.”

“And you’re calling at eleven am on a Sunday because...?” You shuffle onto your front and place your phone on your pillow after putting Jaemin on speaker.

“Well...” He drags the word as though he enjoys the suspense. Knowing his dramatic ass, he probably does. “I got up early to finish a paper, and now I’m feeling clingy with no one to cling onto.”

You catch yourself smiling into the pillow like an idiot. He should not have this effect on you. “Don’t you live with a thousand other men.”

“Just four actually.” His chuckle echoes, and you can picture his bright teeth a little too easily. “And you’d be surprised at how busy they all are. Well, apart from Jiji. He’s just dead.”

You’re not surprised in the slightest Jisung is not up and about considering the state he was in last night. What a messy boy. “What could they possibly be doing on a Sunday morning?”

“Hmm,” You imagine him swivelling in his chair in deep thought. “Haechan and Jeno are out on a double brunch date with their females, and Renjun... I actually have no idea. He doesn’t like seeing me in the mornings.”

It’s your turn to laugh. It comes out all muffled but you’re sure he can hear you. “I can see why. Also, females?”

“Yeah, speaking of females, can I come see you after I submit this?” He asks, like it’s something he’s asked a thousand times before. The question itself doesn't surprise you. You could tell it was coming from miles away. It’s just his casual tone that leaves you slightly perplexed.

“You sound awfully comfortable asking to invade my personal space.” You flip onto your back again, phone now on your chest.

“You didn’t mind me invading your personal space last night.” How can someone be so quick witted? Damn his sexy brain.

“Consider yourself lucky you’re not in my space right now.”

“Nothing lucky about that.” He whines playfully. “C’monnnn, I’ll bring food, and sweeties, and we can watch a film. Or just talk. Or you can sleep and I’ll just watch you.” He pleads hopefully, and a little too adorable for you to hold your ground.

“Creep.” You mumble defeatedly, and it’s mostly meant for yourself, but he picks up on it judging from the little hum he lets out, like he agrees.

You wonder if this man has ever had anyone tell him no in the past. If so, you’d like to ask them for advice.

When you hear his knock, you have just about finished putting fresh clothes on after your shower, your hair is still wet, and the taste of toothpaste too strong in your mouth.

Ever so punctual, there he is, leaning against your doorframe when you swing the door open. He doesn’t look as fresh and bright as he sounded on the phone, the tiredness evident in his eyes, but somehow, he looks even more handsome like this. You notice you’re matching, both wearing hoodies with your university’s logo printed on them, his grey sweatpants mirroring yours.

“Well, this is uncanny.” He speaks first, amused eyes taking in your attire the same way you’re taking in his.

“Come in before I change my mind.” You step aside to let him inside, unable to fight your smile when he takes off his shoes without you having to ask.

“I’m here now, no need to be so aggy.” He says with a reassuring pout you never fail to question. Because how does a grown man so masculine act so feminine and cutesy without a care in the world.

“We can chill in here, Winter’s at her boyfriend’s for the day.” You dismiss his antics and lead the way towards the small living room space you and your flatmate share. “We’ve got Netflix and Disney plus.”

He gasps, making you turn to look at him. “So we can watch Keeping Up With The Kardashians?”

“Absolutely not.” You deadpan. You refuse to watch something that will most likely obliterate your already barely functioning brain cells.

“Blue planet then?” He drops the takeout bags on your coffee table and you can see there’s a huge bag of Skittles and a pack of fresh cookies on top of the boxes. You try not to laugh at the thought of him standing in a bakery waiting to buy overpriced treats. As funny as it is, you can’t help but find it incredibly endearing too.

“So it’s either brainrot or full-on intellectuality with you.” You nod in fake approval.

“If you have beef with sir David Attenborough, I’m afraid I can’t invest in this.” He protests but still plops down on your sofa and snatches the TV remote off the table like he owns the place.

“Invest in what exactly?” You narrow your eyes at the ballsy statement, and he side-eyes you in return, brows lifting like the answer is self-explanatory. “Also, I don’t think anyone has beef with David Attenborough.”

“Wise.” He keeps his attention on the screen as he scrolls through Netflix, and suddenly you feel like you’re intruding in your own home. “I knew you were wifey material.”

The eye-roll is inevitable when you head for the kitchen to get water. Not because his silly comment offended you. But because it should have.

It’s maybe halfway through the first episode that you and Jaemin both have devoured your bowls of pho noodles and he quickly reaches for the cookies.

He offers you the box with a sweet smile, as if saying ‘do the honours’.

You instantly shake your head. “I’m too full.”

He pouts stubbornly, like you’ve offended him and confused him at the same time. “Wanna share one?” He asks, eyes big and full of hope and so unfairly pretty. And you can’t find it in you to deny him a second time.

“Yeah, fine, I’ll do half.”

“Yay.”

You observe him as he tears the lid off, carefully picks a cookie like it’s an important decision, and then splits it in two. You notice how cautious he is not to drop any crumbs on the blanket you’re sharing, keeping his hands above the container that’s resting now on his lap. You only realise you’re smiling when he offers you the slightly bigger half, and if he's noticed, he doesn’t comment on it, just waits patiently for you to take a bite, whales and dolphins forgotten in the background.

When the second episode starts, you realise you and Jaemin have barely exchanged any words since he stepped foot in your apartment. The silence hasn’t felt awkward at any point, but you can’t deny it’s a slightly unusual dynamic.

His newfound restlessness makes up for it, however.

You don’t say anything when you feel him staring, but you also can’t hide the little twitch of your mouth. And you know he notices when he shuffles a tiny bit closer, not enough to close the distance between you, but enough for you to get a whiff of his clean boyish scent. A chuckle brews in your chest but only escapes when he gently tugs on the blanket, trying to get your attention in a way that doesn’t require words.

He’s yet to tear his persistent eyes off you, probably amused by the deeper shade of your burning cheeks, so you bring your knees up to your chest, along with the hem of the blanket, seeking for cover. Your hand blindly reaches over to his side, fingers poking into his cheek, forcing his attention back on the TV, at which he shamelessly giggles. You don’t manage to retrieve your arm as he swiftly but so gently takes hold of your wrist and tugs the same way he did with the blanket, a subtle request for you to move into his space.

It’s way too easy. Just like most things in his life it seems. And as easily as you give in, it doesn’t feel wrong. Not when you so comfortably allow yourself to curl into his side. Not when he wraps an arm around your shoulders and lets you snuggle closer. Not when your cheek squishes against his chest, ear right above his steady heartbeat. Not when you feel his nose nudge you on the forehead. And definitely not when you hear his little sigh of relief.

You could pretend it doesn’t mean anything. You could just blame it on the tiredness and the fact that you’re both slightly hungover from last night. You could just be two people who casually ended up cuddling on the sofa while watching a documentary about creatures of the ocean. But the way your heart speeds up defies that. Just as easily as you fell into his arms just now.

“You smell nice.” He murmurs, the contentment in his voice and body language difficult to not make you feel warm and fuzzy too.

“So do you.” You slip, not really meaning to admit that you’ve been having the same thought. “Hope you don’t use one of those three in one shampoos that could kill a Victorian child.”

His chest vibrates under you, his loud sneaker making you laugh along. He lets his weight sink further into the cushions, moving you with him. “That’s actually offensive. I take my skincare very seriously.” His fingers threading through your hair make you feel woozy, goosebumps prickling on your nape, accompanied by a little shiver, which unfortunately doesn’t go unnoticed by Jaemin. “Aww,” He coos, hand repeating the action, this time lightly scratching your scalp. “That’s so cute, you like head scratches.”

“I’m not a fucking dog.” You grumble, with no intention of pulling away from his soothing touch.

“Hmm, I don't know,” He trails sceptically, fingers now scratching at the crown of your head, coaxing you further into drowsiness. “You are kind of like a puppy at times. All bark no bite.”

You nuzzle deeper into his neck, allowing your eyes to shut. “I bite when necessary.”

“I’m in deep shit right now if you’re a vampire.”

You let out a lazy giggle, hand tugging on his hoodie to reveal more of his neck. “Yeah, I could so easily eat you.”

“Sexy.” He says in a playful tone. “Doubt I’ll taste as good as you did last night.”

You’re weak. So fucking weak.

What the fuck are you even meant to say to that? And why did the words make your toes curl? You’ve been trying so hard not to let your mind wander to last night’s events, and not because you’re ashamed or embarrassed. Quite the opposite.

It would be wise to swerve the subject. Hell, it would be easier to pretend you’re asleep. But where’s the fun in that? Why miss the opportunity to see him squirm a little?

“I mean...” You hook your fingers over his neckline teasingly, before letting them trail upwards, your knuckles grazing his skin; first his neck, then the opposite side of his jaw, where your palm settles. “We could’ve found out last night if you hadn’t jizzed in your pants like a teenager.”

Silence. Even his breathing stops. You’re almost starting to worry you’ve pushed too far. And maybe you have. But his hand in your hair tightening and then pulling, even though harsh, it reassures you he's fallen face first into your trap. And a breathless laugh slips out when he forces you to look at him. The wicked smile on his face does something to your tummy.

“We could find out now.” He suggests. So predictable.

“I thought you wanted to watch Blue Planet.” You pout just like he would if he had the upper hand. Just like he did last night. Condescendingly.

His hold on your hair loosens, giving you leeway to bring your face closer to his, hand still cradling his jaw when you give him a very quick kiss on the cheek. You sense the hesitancy in his actions, both hands hovering close, but not properly touching you anymore.

“You okay?” You ask with genuine concern, urging him to look at you, not used to this demeanour from him.

“Yeah,” He nods quickly, arm settling around your waist in no time. “I’m just– I don’t want you to think that I came over for…”

“I don't.” You hold his face with both your hands, thumbs stroking his soft cheeks, a little rosy now.

His tiny nod makes your stomach do a flip. “Okay, good.” He nods again, more to himself this time, like he’s fighting an internal conflict. “Like, I know you might’ve heard things, and you probably think I just wanna get in your pants, but I swear I don’t– I mean, obviously, I do, but not in that way, you know?” He swallows visibly, and you’re too taken by his sudden outburst to interrupt him again. “Like, I do want you and I’ll do anything with you, but I don’t want that to be the main thing. Like, yeah, sex is great and I’m sure it’ll be fire with you, but I swear I just wanted to hang out today–”

“Jaemin.”

“Hm?” He looks at you with big eyes, like you’ve startled him out of a trance. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Breathe, please.” You lightly shake his head, in hope of knocking some sense into him and bringing him back from his spiral. “I don’t know what you think I’ve heard, but I couldn’t care less about idiotic rumours–”

“Not all of it is, though.”

“Okay, and?” You straddle him abruptly, suddenly annoyed at his uncertainty. He’s blinking up at you like he needs something he’s not sure of. Such pretty eyes. “It’s sweet that you worry about this stuff. It means you care and I like that. But I'm not one to judge people based on their past. Unless they're cheaters or misogynists.”

"I've only had one girlfriend in high school and I think women should get paid more than men." He quickly admits.

Your heart overflows with fondness at how he clutches the blanket that’s loosely scattered around your thighs, his fingers fidgeting in an anxious manner you’ve never seen from him before. Adorable.

“I know you like me, I’m not dense.” You give into your instincts and shuffle closer, overcome with the need to have some form of direct contact, to feel his warmth. “And I'm absolutely fine with you wanting to get in my pants. As long as it’s not all you want.” You smile at his mouth parting, expression changing into something that resembles awe and realisation, as though you’ve solved a puzzle he’s been getting tortured by.

“It’s not.” He shakes his head in denial, his hands now on your thighs, a comforting weight.

“Good.” You encourage him with an affirmative nod, the tip of your nose barely touching his. You take in his features as he shuts his eyes and inhales slowly, his chest touching yours momentarily before he exhales, and you feel the intense want to smother him in affection. “You’re so cute.” Your lips pucker against his cheek like it’s a reflex. Like kissing his skin would scratch a long-lasting itch. “Why are you so cute, huh?” Another smooch, a lingering one this time. “So annoying.”

“Why are you being sweet?” He whines, as though bothered and confused by the sudden turn in your attitude. “You’re scaring me.”

“I’m actually very clingy behind closed doors,” You trail more kisses down his jawline, letting your tongue make contact when you reach his neck. “So, you should be scared.”

He outright moans at the threat, or maybe at the way you’re lightly sucking on his pulse, his head tipping back to give you more space.

“Maybe you’re just bipolar.” He teases mindlessly, one hand sneaking into your hair, holding you in place, as the other drags up your thigh and stops at the small of your back, fingers ghosting over your ass, palm pressing you into him. You feel him growing under you, the subtle bulge poking you against the crease of your thigh, so you reposition your hips slightly, this time making sure you’re sitting directly on it.

“Yeah, I bet your freaky ass would love it if I had a mental disorder.” You tug on his hair, your mouth now on his left clavicle, teeth grazing his skin like a warning. “You’d probably wanna fix me.”

"Damn," He breathes out a fucked-out laugh, clearly entertained by your choice of words. “Am I that easy to read?”

“I just pay attention.” You say the words without much thought behind them, but the second they slip out, his mouth is on yours. And you give in quicker than you would’ve allowed if it were anyone else. His hand in your hair doesn’t give you much choice anyway, and neither does his tongue, swiping across your lips as he tilts your head gently. He tastes like candy and something familiar that has your mouth eagerly parting for more. The quietest of moans escaping your lungs reminds you of how much he weakens any restraint you always try to maintain.

Suddenly, ruining him seems more enticing than any other thought that occupies your mind in that moment. You could edge him enough to make him beg. He’d like that, right? He’d look so pretty crying.

You let him kiss you however he wants, without failing to notice how he tries to keep it languid and wet enough that it resembles the way he kissed you last night. Exactly how you told him you like to be kissed. Your tongue plays with his slowly, just like your hands slide from his neck to the zipper of his hoodie. It comes undone easily, and you can’t help but slip your hands underneath, nudging the fabric off his shoulders before you indulge in giving his uncovered arms a squeeze. He reciprocates with both his hands on your ass, kneading the full flesh and urging you to move your hips against his.

“Fuck,” He gasps against your mouth, his pelvis bucking off the sofa just a little, trying to get more friction when you keep your movements too slow.

“What do you need?” You break off the heated kiss, hands flat on his chest to hold him in place when he tries to trail after you. “I’ll do it, just want you to tell me.”

You know you’re being slightly selfish, but you also can’t pass on the opportunity to get him all putty and needy under you. He looks scrumptious with his cheeks all flushed, and his cute nipples poking through the white tank top he’s got under the hoodie that now hangs off his elbows. He looks so good that it feels wrong to touch him. Like you shouldn’t be allowed to, but he’s somehow letting you.

He’s fully erect now, his hard length resting a little too comfortably between your folds, proud and thick enough that you can feel the outline even through the layers of both your layers. He’s got a look of contemplation as he stares at your connected crotches, his legs spreading further, inevitably sliding you a little upwards, and his cock brushes against your clit just right, pulling a tiny whimper out of you.

“Anything I want?” He asks innocently, bunny teeth digging into his bottom lip as he bats his eyelashes up at you. There’s the devilish look you know.

“Mm, you gotta ask nicely first.” You match his tone, playing along whatever game he’s decided to start.

His eyes travel down, fingers slipping past your waist band just a tiny bit before letting it snap against your skin. “Just want these off.” He gestures at your bottoms.

“Panties too?” You climb off his lap to stand between his legs, already looking forward to feeling him with less layers in between.

“Up to you.” He shrugs, eyes now on your face as you slip the baggy garment down your legs, your intimate area covered by your long hoodie, that as opposed to his, is still zipped up. “Actually, yeah, those too.”

You instantly raise a challenging eyebrow, head tilting in warning.

“Pretty please?” He recovers quickly, sweet smile and obedient eyes making you feel giddy. He really does catch on quickly. Or maybe he just gets you too well.

The thin cotton tickles as it drags down your legs, some of your slick smearing on your knee as the seat of your underwear touches you directly. “Now, what?”

“Sit back down.” He doesn’t play as nice this time, and you don’t really need him to. You reclaim your seat, knees on either side of his hips, but you hover, too conscious of how wet you are and how easy to stain his gray sweats are.

“I’ll be real with you; those will get ruined if you keep them on.” You point your chin at his crotch, and he doesn’t say a word before pulling the unnecessary barrier down, letting it rest mid-thigh. His white boxers come into view, matching his tank top, making him look like he’s about to pose for an underwear ad, if you ignore the outrageous hard-on of course.

His hands feel hot on your thighs, the pads of his fingers sinking into your skin slightly. “Wigs? Please?”

“Wigs?” An unexpected giggle tumbles out of you at the somewhat new but cute nickname as you lower your bare centre onto the bulge beneath you, weight completely dropping on him. The throbbing between your legs intensifies when you witness his expression go from troubled to serene, the crease between his eyebrows disappearing, shoulders dropping. It’s like he’s just melted into the cushions, and you wish you could take a snapshot of his reaction with your brain.

“So wet.” He whispers, eyes fixated between your thighs even though he can’t see anything, and you shouldn’t, but you feel bad for him, all of a sudden wanting to give him anything he’s after.

“Wanna see?” You lean down, cupping his face in your palms, connecting your lips with his before he can speak. He moans against your mouth, the sound vibrating between your chests, your nipples pebbling at the needy sound. You kiss him harder in response, licking into his mouth like you need to quench an inexplicable thirst, and the more you keep kissing him, the louder he gets. One of his hands curls around the back of your neck, while the other one grabs onto your ass, forcing your hips to move.

“Don’t need to,” He mumbles, teeth biting onto your bottom lip, pulling at the skin before letting it snap back into place. “Can feel you just fine.”

For some reason, in your twisted mind, that sounds hotter than him begging to see the mess between your legs. What’s even hotter is the fact that you’ve barely done more than kiss him, barely shown any skin, yet he’s so responsive. His strained breathing goes straight to your mushy brain, his whimpers each time you grind on him sound sinful and soft at the same time. You're so lost in the heat that you’re not sure which pulse is more rigorous, the one in your chest or the one in your pussy.

“Ow!” You accidentally let out a loud whine when Jaemin’s hand pulls at your hair a little too hard.

“Sorry.” He laughs lightly, loosening his grip just a tad but still forcing your head back so he can start scattering kisses down your neck. The wet swipe of his hot tongue on your skin sends a shiver down your spine, hips accidentally rolling against him, exposed cunt dragging over his clothed cock, your mixed arousals seeping through the cotton, making everything slippery. Each time you grind down on him, he thrusts upwards, every movement turning into a push and pull game as his length slides between your folds just perfectly, the head nudging your clit just right.

“Shit, that’s so good.” He murmurs softly against your neck, both hands on your backside now, each one grabbing onto a cheek, guiding your rhythm whenever your hips stutter. His touch on your bare skin, tugging, squeezing, sends a bloom of fresh heat in your belly, more arousal dripping out of you and adding to the unholy mess.

“Aw, you gonna cum in your undies again?” You counter in a condescending tone, not quite settled with him thinking that he’s got the upper hand here.

“I will if you want me to.” He pants, no ounce of shame detected; his dignity clearly left somewhere behind.

You halt your movements, hands moving to his chest for support as you take in his perplexed expression. “Actually... Can you do something else for me?”

He nods without hesitation. “Mhm.” So sweet.

You scoot back on his lap, his hands dropping to his sides as he waits for your instructions. He looks like a lost puppy, staring up at you like you’ve got the solution to all his problems. And maybe you do. “Touch yourself.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, lips parting, his cute two front teeth poking out a tiny bit. “Really? Right now?”

“Yeah.” You lean back with your hands on his knees. “Wanna see.”

“Fuck.” He exhales shakily. “Why are you doing this to me?”

You catch yourself biting back a smirk at his unexpectedly shy demeanour. And you feel your heart stutter at the incredibly cute way he lifts his bum off the sofa as he shoves his briefs down, just enough to reveal what’s hiding underneath. And holy fuck.

It’s not just the length or the girth; it’s more the way it lightly slaps on his stomach, the tip not too far from his belly button, cute, pink and angry, the shade matching his swollen lips. It looks heavy, and you can’t help but wonder how it would feel to have him inside you, stretching your snug walls more than anyone has before.

“Pretty.” You mutter in awe, the word sneaking out before you can contain it.

“Did you just call my dick pretty?” He breathes out a bemused laugh.

You laugh along, more in confusion at your strange outburst of honesty, your eyebrows tensing. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

You almost feel guilty for the objectifying thoughts that pollute your brain, but it’s not like there’s much of his decorum left to preserve anyway. And how are you meant to behave yourself when he looks like he’s been plucked straight out of some sort of anime universe. Now you understand why he walks and carries himself the way he does. No one with a dick this good looking should be humble.

He wraps his fist around his twitching length, slowly teasing the head first, while his free hand reaches to grab onto your thigh. It seems more like a grounding gesture than anything else, as if he needs to be touching you somehow to stay sane. He carries a baffled expression, like he can’t believe he’s actually enjoying this, but a quiet moan proves exactly that.

“Wigs?” He squeezes your thigh lightly just to get your attention, obviously not aware that you’re transfixed by his every move.

“Hm?” You dumbly nod, the view too precious to miss, but in the back of your mind you’re very aware of the wetness that leaks out of you and onto his bare thigh.

“Can you– shit–” He hisses as his thumb brushes over the glistening tip. “Um, can you get it wet for me please?”

You obediently lean closer, head tipping forward so you can aim, and just like he so nicely asked, you let a long string of saliva dribble from your lips. It lands on the underside of his cock and trickles down to his fingers where he’s tightly gripping the base. He lathers the added lubrication all over his length, making the glide smoother and louder.

“Better?” You scoot a little closer, letting your hands cradle his flushed face, and you can’t help but push his messy fringe back, his sweaty forehead coming into view, dark eyebrows pinched in pleasure as he sets a steady pace; not too fast, not too slow.

“Yeah.” He sighs, leaning into your touch, nuzzling into your wrist before leaving a sloppy kiss there, just above the ink on your skin. “I don’t think I’m gonna last long.”

“That’s okay.” You encourage him with small pecks on the exposed side of his face.

“Fuck, I want you.” He pants needily, shattering your heart a little.

“I’m here.” You tangle your fingers in his hair, messily kissing down his neck, comforting him through the pleasure. “Want you too.”

His head lolls back, resting against the back of the sofa, and when you feel the speeding up of his arm, you inevitably look down, drinking the sinful sight like a renaissance painting. The slit of his cockhead oozes more precum with each upward stroke, the skin is more flushed than before, veins more prominent. You study how he likes to be touched, how he focuses on the tip more, fist twisting slightly before he glides down again. A tiny spasm of his pelvis sends an intense throb to your cunt, and the accidental moan you let out seems to spur his hand into faster and less coordinated jerks.

“Gonna cum.” He announces urgently, nails digging into your thigh as he starts trembling. “Oh my– fuck fuck fuck.”

You manage to lift his tank top just below his chest right before the first spurt of release paints his abs, and the second his lips part in ecstasy, you don’t miss the chance to stick your tongue past them, swallowing his deep grunts with a loud and sloppy kiss. His mouth barely moves, tongue lazily poking out to lick against yours between laboured breaths, and you feel powerless not to smile at his free hand cupping your jaw weakly, even through the haze of his orgasm and his inability to kiss you back properly.

"I'm so fucked." He whines, sounding like he's in pain, and for some reason, you don't urge him to elaborate, ignoring the need to know the exact meaning behind his words as well as the heavy feeling in your stomach.

“Can I clean it up?” You mumble mid kiss, throwing his words from last night back into his face.

He kisses you harder in response, his pleased groan vibrating between you. “Yeah? You wanna get on your knees for me?”

“Behave.” You let your fingers wrap around his throat in a quiet threat, though it doesn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. His wicked smile only betrays enjoyment and makes you pulse around nothing, reminding you that you’ve most likely drenched his thigh.

“I gave you a full on show and you’re worried about me behaving?” He presses a lingering smooch on your chin, then one on your cheek. “I think we’ve established the power imbalance here, don’t worry.”

What an oblivious, silly little man. He clearly has no grasp on the effect he has on you, and it couldn’t get sweeter than that. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, though, and you certainly wouldn’t want his head getting any bigger. “Whatever you say.”

“What–”

“Shush.” You shut him up with a light squeeze around his throat before swiftly sinking down to your knees between his spread legs, the carpeted floor slightly digging into your skin, but not enough to distract you. What does distract you is the mess he’s made. His fingers are now limp around the base of his softening cock, covered in his release that has somehow not reached his chest. You mentally give him points for decent aim, having experienced unwanted facials in the past. Nothing you would have minded in this case, though.

“This feels awfully scrutinising.” He points out with a playful tilt of his head, clearly unbothered by your staring but impatient enough to kick up a fuss. “It’ll dry if you– oh shit, okay.”

His reaction is almost laughable when you lick a stripe from his balls to his tip, lapping up as much of his cum on your tongue as you can in one go and swallowing the salty essence before diving in for seconds. You teasingly suckle onto one ball, before repeating the same with the other one while intentionally letting out a moan that earns you his praise. "Fuck, you're so filthy."

You slowly blink up at him as you provocatively flatten your tongue over his coated fingers, and he gets the hint with a lustful glint in his eyes. He so willingly slips three of his salty digits past your wet lips whimpering when you eagerly slurp everything up, sliding your tongue between them before sucking hard and maintaining eye contact. You drag your mouth off with another performative moan and focus on his cock again, now replacing his hand with yours and relishing in the way he feels in your palm. Heavy, warm and overwhelmingly thick like you predicted, the skin velvety soft and slippery with your spit. So fucking perfect.

"You tryna make me hard again or what?" He rasps in most likely warranted frustration, though, his clean hand on your nape says otherwise.

“As if you’d mind fucking my throat.” You whisper, scattering languid kisses up one side of his shaft, your lips dragging across the sensitive skin until you reach the bulbous head that almost begs for your attention.

“I wouldn’t. That’s the problem.” His thumb strokes along your jaw, soft as ever, making you swoon, goosebumps raising along your neck and arms, your thighs rubbing for some much-needed friction.

“How’s that a problem?” You ask innocently, glancing up at him before swirling the tip of your tongue agonisingly slowly around the shiny head, then letting your lips vacuum around it, welcoming his taste in your mouth straight from the source, like slurping on an ice lolly on the hottest day of summer.

“We’ll be here all fucking day.” He lazily laughs, wincing when you suck harder and take him a little deeper. “Easy you demon, it’s still sensitive.”

You decide to ease up on the torture and abandon his cock with one last kiss before moving onto his abs, slurping and shamelessly licking along his skin, making sure not to miss a drop of his cum. And when you’re satisfied with your work and he’s whining and squirming as you hoped, you finally resurface for air. You don’t get much of it, though. His mouth quickly finds yours in a filthy battle of tongue and teeth, and you feel helpless at the thought of him moaning at his own taste. You're pretty sure there's cum smeared on your nose and chin, but he doesn't seem to give a fuck.

“Bend over the table.” You feel the seriousness in his tone in your stomach, excitement, and uncertainty blooming.

“I thought we weren’t fucking today.”

“We’re not.” He confirms with a snap of his boxers back into place, covering your new favourite toy.

“So, why–”

“Bend the fuck over, Y/N.” It sounds more like a threat, and you can tell he’s very much done with your bullshit now the blood has travelled up to his brain again. You also don’t miss the lack of a cutesy nickname this time. And you’re positive your name has never sounded sexy in a man’s mouth before. And so, you hold back on the questions this time and do as you’re told, curious and eager to find out what his dominant side entails.

The yelp you let out when he manhandles you abruptly almost sounds animated. Your front is pressed against the wooden surface of the coffee table you remember purchasing from Ikea about a year ago, and your remaining layers are shoved up, now resting just below your tits as Jaemin hovers behind you on his knees.

"So pretty like this," He praises as he slots between your legs, easily probing them apart, and you suddenly feel incredibly exposed with your backside and pussy out in the open air. "Knew your ass would be a fuckin' dream."

“Jaem?” You call for him more desperately than you intend, arching your back a little to tempt him more.

“Yeah?” He whispers above you, running his hands over the dip of your waist and down to your hips. So gently you feel your eyes getting heavy. He's then gathering both your hands at the small of your back, hold loose around your wrists but it's enough to make a point. Enough to leave you aching and helpless.

“Please do something.” You try to sound serious, but the whiny edge in your voice slips through regardless as you waggle your hips in desperation. "My clit feels like it's about to explode."

“Awh,” He coos with a satisfied laugh, his chest now flush against your back, radiating warmth as his lips leave a trail of tiny kisses from your temple down to your ear. "Needy baby.

He gently sucks on the lobe before letting his tongue tease the shell and then your helix piercing, all while his free hand sneaks around you and down to the apex of your thighs. You’re so worked up and sensitive, even a light swipe of his fingers across your swollen nub makes you squirm, arms fighting his firm hold off fruitlessly.

“Shhh, be good.” He instructs, voice steady with a sultry edge to it, sending more sparks through your body. Your nipples are so erect and tingly against the hard surface, they almost hurt with need for attention.

Your pathetic mewl resembles a cry that sounds offending to your pride. So much that you manage to piss yourself off. “Stop playing games with me, you prick.”

You feel him falter for a second, and then he taps on your pussy lips in warning, halting any movement from your pelvis. “That’s rich coming from you.” His two middle fingers, the ones you earlier had your lips wrapped around, prod at your weeping entrance before he runs them up and down your slit, spreading your slick down to your clit where he focuses his attention after a couple more teasing strokes. “Been fucking with my head since day one.” He admits openly, the honesty sitting heavy in your guts, making your lungs malfunction as he slowly swirls his fingers around the bundle of nerves. Too delicately. So much that it feels like the wickedest game of edging. So much that your pussy contracts around emptiness.

“You’ve known for a while now, haven’t you?” He whispers against your neck, and you aimlessly try to suppress your cries when the circles on your clit become a little harsher than you can handle, the heat in your belly begging for a release that approaches shockingly fast. “That I’m obsessed with you.”

The feeling is euphoric, almost overwhelming in a way you can’t explain. You could swear it’s the infatuation his voice drips with that clouds your senses more than the intensity of the unexpected orgasm itself. “Oh my god, what the fuck.”

“You’re doing so good.” He murmurs, clearly affected as he releases your hands and brings a safe arm around you, grounding you through every little spasm of your muscles, the strokes on your pulsing nub still precise and relentless, even as your legs tremble with oversensitivity. “That’s it, baby.”

“Please, I can’t cum again.” You feel tears threatening to spill from the overwhelming pleasure. “I feel like–” You’re spluttering nonsense along with weak sobs as your cunt keeps clenching around nothing, dripping slick down your inner thighs. “Ah–!”

You’re pulled upright without warning, clearly losing a battle you’re not even fighting as you let Jaemin drag you with him on the floor, positioning you between his spread legs as he leans against the sofa with a strong arm slung across your torso like a seat belt.

“Legs up.” He instructs promptly, clearly not in the mood to hover, and the second your knees are bent and far apart, you don’t even have time to accommodate your body in the new position before two of his fingers find their way in your sopping hole this time, the stretch intense but somehow delightful.

“Shit, Jaem– wait!” You exclaim in utter shock at the unexpected intrusion, your walls fluttering around his nimble digits.

“Does it hurt?” His fingers stay hooked inside you, tickling a deep spot that only you can normally find this quickly, but he stops moving at your distress.

“No, just – just give me a sec.” You lean back in his embrace, melting against the warmth of his chest, head limply resting on his shoulder while he drapes his arm over your sternum, hand finding its way to your jaw, urging you to turn your head and meet his dark eyes, full of want and hues of brown you hadn't noticed before.

“You’re so pretty.” He mumbles sweetly, lips brushing against yours before delivering a soft peck that makes your stomach flutter along with your stuffed pussy. “You like it when I talk to you?”

You can sense the teasing lilt, but you nod anyway, not having the backbone to talk back when he’s got you spread out all to himself. And now you hope he knows there’s no point talking about power imbalance when just a few words of praise and a slow drag of his fingers against your walls have you suffocating. Your legs are already fighting to stay open when slow strokes gradually turn into short jabs against your g-spot, and gentle pecks turn into lazy open-mouthed kisses that leave you both breathless.

The fact that he's using the same hand he pleasured himself with to get you off, tickles your brain in ways you didn't think possible, making your insides feel funny. And you find yourself wanting to shake your next thought out of your lust-clouded head. I shouldn't have sucked his fingers clean. Are you really that twisted? Wishing a man would fuck his cum in you? Na Jaemin of all men?

“M’so close.” You pant into his mouth when you feel the tight bubble of tension in your tummy threatening to burst for the second time, only not as quick as before.

“Yeah?” He drags his hand to your neck, fingers tightening like a necklace over your pulse points. “Gonna cum for me?”

“Uh-huh.” You absentmindedly let your tongue brush against his bottom lip, and he eagerly sucks it in his mouth while the obscene squelching of his hand ruining your pussy echoes around the quiet room.

“Fuck, how are you so wet?” He moans, adding momentum in the motions of his wrist, fingers now pistoning in and out of you, palm faintly slapping against your folds. Just when you're about to say you need more, he buries his fingers deep and crooks them along the curve of your front wall, rubbing against your sweet spot and pulling an incoherent exclaim of astonishment from you. His thumb starts rapidly flicking up and down, stimulating your needy clit just the right amount, and when you glance down, catching a glimpse of the sinful sight – him pleasuring you like it's a mission – it’s game over for you.

“Shit, shit, shit I'm–” Your mouth parts in a silent squeak, head tilting back in eye-rolling pleasure that feels too good for your sanity to stay intact. You feel the thick arousal trickling down to your ass as Jaemin’s fingers keep pressing upwards through the constricting of your throbbing walls. Your hips uncontrollably stutter with the little aftershocks of pleasure that he forces out of you, and you realise how tightly your hands are clutching on his thighs, nails clawing onto the cotton of his sweats as you hang on by a thread.

“So fucking hot.” He mumbles against your temple, his breath warming your already heated face as he slowly drags his fingers out of your still lightly pulsating opening. He coos when you wince at the emptiness, his hot palm resting over your folds in a delicate and oddly comforting manner. “You good?”

You close your legs around his hand, trapping him there as you try to get your lungs to regain proper function. You manage to hum with a weak nod, already aware of the sweat dripping down the side of your face. “I feel like I need another shower.”

“Nuh-uh,” He keeps his free arm wrapped around your shoulders as he gently rocks you side to side, slowly bringing you back down from the clouds. "Wanna cuddle you.”

You let out a long sigh of contentment, already feeling too exhausted as you descend from cloud nine, and a little too smitten to deny him anything. "I suppose we can cuddle."

"It's so cute that you're still trying to act all mean." He giggles cutely before sucking onto the apple of your cheek, making you whine in disgust at the slobber he leaves on your skin.

"Ew! That's gross, you–"

He kisses you on the wet patch he just left, laughing at the way you try to swat him away. You can't help the giddiness that blossoms in your chest, hating how weak you feel for his odd ways of affection.

"Oh, no! We forgot about Blue Planet!" He exclaims in fake distress, finally ending the wet torture he was putting your cheek through.

A breathless laugh erupts from your chest when you glance at the forgotten TV, Netflix somehow aware of your distraction as the screen reads in big letters: Are you still watching?

The documentary has long since faded into the background. The snacks are half-finished. The blanket is messily draped on the floor.

Somewhere between pho, cookies, and whatever the hell just happened, the day has slipped away from you. And for the first time, the thought of Jaemin leaving feels a little unbearable.

Not just tonight. But eventually.

Because while you've spent the last few months trying not to think too hard about Na Jaemin, time hasn't exactly stopped moving.

You're only half a semester away from his graduation. From whatever big plans he's got for his future and from him becoming someone you'll no longer rely on to make shifts feel a little less monotonous and a little more chromatic.

Half a semester away from watching him walk out of your life just as easily as he barged into it.

Part two coming soon... <3

cookie's note: for the love of GAWD take my laptop away from me i almost went insane writing this 😀🔫 i hope it's what people wanted/hoped for and if not then don't tell me bc i will dead ass cry haha im so serious haha pls don't be mean like oc, i'm not like jaemin!! i will only accept loveeee!! part two is still in the wips but i'm hoping it won't take as long as part one (god forbid). as always pls pls pls share your thoughts with me!! i love interacting with ya'll and reading your reactions! ILY 🤎

👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 i'd also like to give an honourary mention to my beloved wife @withlovemark who read this before i posted it and shared her honest thoughts with me when i was in desperate need of a helping hand (also guys, you didn't hear it from me but i think she likes jaemin a lil too much if you ask me.... not jel or anything... just saying...)💓

✨ ps. pls spare me some liquid love on kofi if you liked this story help a girlie out i'm so broke and i need to book a flight home 🧚🏼‍♂️

📖 check out my other works here

©neogotmycookie 

“I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.”

— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Hogwarts had always held a certain allure, with its ancient stone walls and magic that seemed to permeate every nook and cranny. For six and a half years, you'd wandered those hallowed halls, immersing yourself in a world so far removed from the mundane that at times it hardly seemed real.

Yet, for all its wonder and mystique, Hogwarts was not without its dangers. 

There were cursed objects that lurked in shadowy corridors, waiting for an unsuspecting student to stumble upon them. Staircases that shifted without warning, leaving the unwary stranded or, worse, deposited in some unknown part of the castle. The Whomping Willow that stood sentinel on the grounds, its gnarled branches poised to strike at any who ventured too close. Even Peeves the Poltergeist roamed the halls, cackling with malicious glee as he wreaked havoc and sowed chaos in his wake.

In the face of such peril, you had thus far emerged unscathed, a feat that was nothing short of remarkable given the castle's rather alarming mortality rate. You attributed your survival to a simple yet effective strategy: be invisible, be boring, and for the love of Merlin, stay away from anyone interesting.

Interesting people, you had learned, were magnets for trouble. They ended up in the hospital wing with alarming regularity, usually victims of rogue hexes or potions experiments gone awry. They attracted drama the way honey attracted flies, their lives a constant whirlwind of rumor and intrigue. Interesting people had complicated social lives, with networks of friends and enemies and romantic entanglements that required constant upkeep.

You, on the other hand, were perfectly content with your quiet, unassuming existence. You had one close friend, one beloved cat, and a comfortable routine that rarely demanded more of you than attending classes and avoiding human interaction as much as possible. It wasn't a particularly exciting life, but it was safe and predictable and suited you just fine.

At least, it had until this particular moment, when your sole friend had apparently taken complete leave of her senses.

"Are you having some sort of episode?" You peered at Jo over the top of your book, brow furrowed in concern. "Should I fetch Madam Pomfrey? Is this what happens when you inhale too many potion fumes?"

Jo rolled her eyes with an exaggerated huff. "Please!" she wheedled, her voice climbing to that particular pitch that never boded well. "Please please please, I swear on Merlin's saggy ba—"

You held up a finger, cutting her off before she could complete that thought. "I'm going to stop you right there..."

"I'll never ask you for anything ever again!" She pleaded, clasping her hands together. "I'll do your Potions essays for a month! I'll clean Whiskers' litter box! I'll—"

"I don't think you heard me the first time," you interrupted, fixing her with a pointed stare. "Are. You. Mental?"

The Gryffindor common room was mercifully empty save for the portrait of a tongue-less lady, who watched your exchange with rapt attention. Having gotten her tongue cut out in 1642 for "seditious gossip", the painted woman had developed a keen appreciation for drama in all its forms. Judging by the way she clutched at her pearls, this was the most excitement she'd witnessed in decades. Whiskers was curled up in your lap, observing your best friend with as much judgement as you probably were.

"Come ooon," Jo cajoled, undeterred by your apparent lack of enthusiasm. "When do I ever do things like this? You're always telling me to try new things!"

"I meant take up knitting! Join the Gobstones Club! I did not mean sneak out of the castle in the middle of the night to meet some potentially lycanthropic stranger you've been corresponding with!"

"He's not a stranger, I've been writing to him for months—"

"Which is exactly what every person who's ever been murdered by a pen pal has said—"

"And he's not a werewolf, he's perfectly lovely! I saw him in Hogsmeade last month, I just couldn't say hello because McGonagall was watching me like a hawk."

"Seeing someone from a distance hardly counts as a proper introduction," you argued, pulling your blanket tighter around yourself as if to punctuate your point.

This was the problem with having just one close friend. You knew Jo too well, could read her every expression and intonation better than anyone else. That gleam in her eye, the set of her chin, the way she twisted her fingers in her lap - you recognized the signs of a course already plotted, a decision already made. She would go through with this mad scheme with or without your help, and if you refused, she'd likely end up dead in a ditch somewhere and you'd be left to drown in guilt for the rest of your days.

Guilt, you thought grimly, was a most effective motivator.

With a weary sigh, you closed your book and met Jo's hopeful gaze. "Fine. Fine. What exactly do you need me to do?"

Jo's answering grin could have lit up the entirety of the Great Hall. "Just swap patrol shifts with Sophie Crockett tomorrow night? She's an absolute nightmare, and if she catches me out after curfew she'll go straight to McGonagall."

You could feel a headache blooming behind your eyes. "And when Sophie asks why I'm suddenly so eager to take on the worst patrol slot in existence?"

"Just make something up! She's not going to turn down a chance to skive off for an evening, is she?"

Rubbing your temples, you silently cursed the fickle twists of fate that had led you to this moment. "And the other prefects? I'll still have to deal with them, you know."

Jo waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, you're all right. The only other one scheduled is Na Jaemin, and everyone knows he never actually patrols. Just goes and snogs girls in the library all night, doesn't he?"

You raised an incredulous eyebrow. "How would you know that?"

"Everyone knows," Jo said with a shrug. "It's common knowledge."

"Well, I didn't know."

"That's because you never pay attention to gossip," Jo pointed out, flopping down beside you on the couch. "Honestly, you're missing out on prime entertainment. Anyway, I'm sure Jaemin's got better things to do than patrol corridors. You'll probably have the place to yourself.”

You made a noncommittal sound, trying not to think too hard about Na Jaemin and his extracurricular activities.

It was funny, really. Or rather more like cosmically ironic. First and second year, Jaemin had been an absolute pest. Always lurking around corners, waiting to charm your bag so your books would spill everywhere, or jinx your quill during tests so it would only write rude limericks. He’d found you endlessly amusing, apparently, a never-ending source of entertainment. You’d gone to bed countless nights fuming, plotting revenge you’d never actually carry out, wishing he’d just leave you alone.

And then, somewhere around third year, he just stopped. He stopped seeking you out, or looking at you entirely. As if you’d ceased to exist the moment you stopped being fun to torment.

By fourth year, he’d transformed into a whole different person entirely. Suddenly he was all smoldering glances and that insufferable “playboy” swagger, a different girl on his arm every week. Too cool for pranks and too sophisticated for something as juvenile as tormenting students. He’d become exactly the sort of person you’d made it your mission to avoid: interesting, magnetic, drowning in attention and drama.

You supposed you should have been relieved. You’d wanted him to leave you alone, after all. But there was something particularly galling about being so thoroughly dismissed, about going from his favorite target to utterly beneath his notice. At least when he’d been pulling pranks, you’d existed to him.

Now you were just… nobody. Which was exactly what you’d wanted, you reminded yourself firmly. Exactly what you’d worked so hard to achieve.

“You’re probably right,” you said to Jo, pushing thoughts of Jaemin firmly out of your mind. “I’ll probably have the whole patrol to myself.”

Privately, you rather doubted that. In your experience, the universe had a way of placing you in the path of people and situations you'd much rather avoid. Still, Jo was clearly determined to see her plan through, and short of physically restraining her (a tempting prospect, but ultimately impractical), you saw no way to dissuade her.

"Fine," you said again. "I'll take Sophie's patrol. But if this goes sideways, I reserve the right to say 'I told you so' in the loudest, most obnoxious voice I can muster."

"You're the best." Jo pulled you into a rib-cracking hug, her hair tickling your nose. "Seriously, I owe you one."

"You owe me several," you grumbled, but you returned the hug all the same.

Later that night, as you lay in bed listening to the soft snores of your dormmates, you tried to ignore the sense of foreboding curling in your gut. Rationally, you knew the odds of anything truly catastrophic happening were slim. It was just one night, one patrol, one tiny favor for your best friend. Surely the universe wouldn't be so cruel as to upend your careful, boring routine over something so trivial.

But then, you thought wryly, life did seem to have a twisted sense of humor where you were concerned.

With a sigh, you rolled over and buried your face in your pillow, willing sleep to come. Tomorrow would bring what it would. For now, all you could do was hope that, just this once, the cosmic forces that governed your life would decide to give you a break.

Poorly planned rule-breaking never worked out the way you expected it to.

There was the first year incident, for instance, involving a misplaced curiosity about the Restricted Section and a borrowed invisibility cloak that was, crucially, not yours. You’d lasted exactly twelve minutes before knocking over a stack of cursed folios and alerting Madam Pince.

Second year had been defined by an ill-advised attempt to brew Pepper-Up Potion in a bathroom sink, resulting in steam, screaming, and a week-long ban from practical spellwork. Jo still insisted it would have worked if you’d stirred clockwise instead of counterclockwise. You maintained that the problem was attempting potion-making in plumbing never designed for magic.

After those things, you'd like to say you saw the impending disaster coming from a mile away, but honestly? You were too preoccupied with figuring out how to convince Sophie Crockett to swap shifts without making her suspicious.

As it turned out, Sophie was pathetically easy to persuade. You caught her after Charms, mentioned something vague about "wanting to study for the Divination exam in the morning" (there was no Divination exam, but Sophie didn't take Divination, so she was none the wiser), and she agreed immediately, no questions asked. Just a breezy "Oh, thank Merlin, I've got an Astronomy essay I haven't even started" and that was that.

In hindsight, that should have been your first warning sign. When things fell into place too smoothly, it usually meant the universe was just winding up for a truly spectacular cosmic sucker punch.

At nine sharp on Saturday you pinned your prefect badge to your robes and made your way down to the Entrance Hall, silently cursing your inability to say no to Jo's puppy dog eyes.

The castle took on a different character at night. Not peaceful, exactly. More... haunting. The portraits whispered conspiratorially as you passed, and the shadows in the corners seemed to stretch and deepen weirdly. You'd walked these corridors countless times before, but they never quite lost their eerie quality after dark.

You were supposed to meet Jaemin at the main staircase to divvy up patrol routes. But in theory, if the rumors about his extracurricular activities were true, you'd never actually know have to interact with him at all.

That was the theory, anyway.

The reality was that when you arrived at the designated meeting spot, Na Jaemin was already there, leaning against the banister and looking distinctly un-snog-ready.

Jaemin was the sort of boy who looked like he was born in moonlight and named by a poet. Even in the sallow torchlight, his hair glowed, silver-gold and a little too long for regulation. There was always something quietly triumphant in the angle of his jaw, the tilt of his smile, as if every corridor was a stage and every passing student a captive audience.

You stopped short, your feet suddenly rooted to the spot.  Some ancient, reflexive part of your brain was screaming at you to turn around, to flee, to avoid him the way you’d been so carefully avoiding him for the past four years. The last time you’d been alone with Na Jaemin you’d been twelve years old and he’d been too entertained by your mortification to let you escape.

Now you were seventeen, and he was looking at you with an expression that was completely different and all too intense. He was supposed to be off in some secluded corner of the library, doing unspeakable things with whatever girl was lucky enough to be on his arm that week. He was absolutely not supposed to be here, looking alert and purposeful and like he was actually planning to do his job.

Even more concerning, he looked annoyed.

"You're the Gryffindor prefect," he said, and it sounded more like an accusation than a question.

"...Yes?" Really, what else could you say?

"Where's Crockett?"

"We swapped shifts."

His eyes, a rather striking shade of dark brown that you'd never had occasion to notice before, narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"

"Does it matter?"

He closed his eyes briefly, and you got the distinct impression he was counting to ten in his head. When he opened them again, he fixed you with a look that could have flash-frozen a cup of tea. "I needed Crockett on duty tonight."

Well. That was... odd. Extremely odd. Highly, suspiciously odd. Why would Na Jaemin, Slytherin prince and general too-cool-for-this-nonsense type, care which prefect was patrolling with him?

"Well," you said, channeling every ounce of polite defiance you possessed, "we've already swapped, so I'm afraid you're stuck with me. Unless you've got a Time-Turner hidden somewhere, which would be highly illegal, so I'm going to assume you don't."

Jaemin's jaw clenched almost imperceptibly. "This is—" He stopped himself, visibly recalibrating. "Fine. Right. You take floors three through five then. I'll handle the lower levels and the grounds."

And that's when your brain, which had been operating at half capacity due to stress and sleep deprivation, finally caught up with the situation.

The grounds.

Jaemin wanted to patrol the grounds.

The same grounds where, at this very moment, your best friend was likely rendezvousing with her mystery man.

Oh no. 

"Actually," you heard yourself say, the words tumbling out in a slightly manic rush, "I was rather hoping to get some fresh air tonight. Bit stuffy in the castle, you know. Mind if we swap? You take the upper floors, I'll do the grounds."

His expression shuttered faster than a shop window in Knockturn Alley. "No."

"No?"

"No."

"Well, that's not very cooperative of you," you said, mentally calculating how quickly you could sprint to the grounds to warn Jo. "Aren't prefects supposed to work as a team?"

Jaemin raised one perfectly arched brow. "Why so keen on the grounds all of a sudden?"

"No reason." Your voice came out at least an octave higher than usual. "Just thought it would be nice to get some air. Lovely night for a stroll, don't you think?"

"You're an atrocious liar," he informed you, taking a step closer. You were suddenly, acutely aware of the fact that he was quite a bit taller than you, and that the height difference was doing absolutely nothing to bolster your confidence in this situation. "What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on."

"Of course not. And I suppose you just happened to swap shifts with Crockett tonight for no particular reason, and now you're coincidentally desperate to patrol the grounds."

Okay. This was getting out of control. You needed him. away from the grounds, away from Jo, away from this entire situation. And there was only one thing you could think of that might actually work.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “What?”

“You know.” You waved a hand vaguely, heat creeping up your neck. “It’s Saturday night. I just thought you might have… plans.”

“Plans,” he repeated flatly.

“Yeah, well… You don’t actually patrol on Saturdays.” The words came out in a rush, ungraceful and desperate. “So if you want to go do whatever it is you usually do, I can handle this. Really. You don’t have to—”

“Whatever it is I usually do,” Jaemin said, his lips twitching. “And what exactly do you think that is?”

Oh god. Why had you started this?

“I don’t know. I don’t keep track of your schedule.”

“Clearly not, or you wouldn’t be standing here trying to… what? Give me permission to skive off?” He was definitely smiling now, the bastard. “How thoughtful of you.”

“I’m just saying, if you have other commitments—”

He laughed, short and sharp. “Is that what we’re calling it? Commitments?”

Your face was absolutely burning now. “Look, what you do with your time is none of my business.” 

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

“Because I’m trying to be helpful!” You gestured wildly at the empty entrance hall. “The library’s right there. I’m sure whoever you’re supposed to meet would appreciate you actually showing up—”

“Ah.” Jaemin’s grin widened, showing teeth. “You think I’m supposed to meet someone in the library.”

“That’s what people say,” you muttered, unable to meet his eyes.

“People say a lot of things.” He leaned back against the banister, looking thoroughly entertained now. “And you believe all of them?”

“That’s not the point—”

“Tell me, what else does everyone say about me? I’m curious.”

This was a disaster. A complete and utter disaster. “Forget I said anything.”

“Oh no, I don’t think so.” He pushed off the banister, taking a step closer. “You started it. Come on, don’t be shy now. What exactly are these Saturday night activities I’m supposedly abandoning patrol for?”

You wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. “You already know what people say.”

“I do. But I want to hear you say it.” His eyes were dancing with so much glee. “Go on. Don’t spare my delicate sensibilities.”

“This is ridiculous—”

“Go on.”

You took a breath, lifted your chin, and forced the words out with as much dignity as you could muster. “Fine. People say you spend your patrol shifts in the library doing…things.”

“Things?” Jaemin repeated, his grin positively wolfish now. “How delightfully vague.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t. You’ll have to be more specific.”

He was enjoying this far too much, the absolute prat. “They say you… meet girls there.”

“Meet girls,” he said thoughtfully. “Like a book club?”

“Not like a book club,” you gritted out.

“Then what?”

You threw your hands up. “They say you snog girls in the library instead of doing your prefect duties! There! Are you happy?”

Jaemin laughed. “Merlin’s beard, is that it?”

“That’s what everyone says.”

“And you believed it?” He shook his head, still grinning. “That’s adorable, really.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped.

“Well, you are when you’re trying to delicately inform me about my own scandalous reputation.” His eyes glittered with delight. “How very considerate, giving me an out like that. ‘Oh Jaemin, don’t let me keep you from your library assignations.’”

He said it in a high pitched tone, clearly trying for a very inaccurate impression of you.

“I was only trying to be nice.” You huffed.

“You’re trying to get rid of me,” he corrected, but he didn’t sound annoyed about it. If anything, he seemed more intrigued. “Which brings us back to the question of why you’re so desperate for me to not patrol the grounds tonight.”

Damn it. You’d played right into his hands. “I’m not—”

“You just tried to use my supposed promiscuity as an excuse to get me to leave.” He tilted his head, studying you. “So either you’re deeply concerned about my social life, or there’s something on the grounds you don’t want me to find.”

Your heart was hammering again. He’d out-maneuvered you completely, turning your own attempt at manipulation back on you.

“Well?” he prompted. “Which is it?”

“The first one,” you lied weakly. “I’m very concerned about your social life.”

“Right.” His smile was sharper now, more predatory. “In that case, you’ll be delighted to know I’m completely free tonight. I have no library dates or clandestine meetings. Just a nice, thorough patrol of the grounds.” He paused. “With you, apparently, since you seem so determined to tag along.”

You rolled your eyes. “You are so irritating.”

“There’s the Gryffindor honesty I remember,” he said cheerfully. “Come on then. Let’s go catch whoever it is you’re trying to protect.”

Wait. What?

“I’m not—there’s no one—”

But he was already turning toward the entrance hall, and panic clawed at your throat. You needed to try something else, anything to keep him from the grounds.

“Look,” you said, a note of genuine desperation creeping into your voice, “patrolling the grounds is easily twice the work of the upper floors. I’m offering to take on the extra effort here. What’s the problem?”

He paused, glancing back at you with an expression of exaggerated surprise. “You? Volunteering for extra work?” He pressed a hand to his chest in shock. “I’m sorry, have we met? I’m Na Jaemin, and you’re the girl who once hid in a broom cupboard for twenty minutes to avoid helping set up for the Yule Ball.”

“I did not—” You stopped, because you absolutely had done that, and he somehow knew about it. “That’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it though?” He was grinning again, clearly enjoying himself. “Come on, admit it. You’ve spent six years perfecting the art of doing the absolute bare minimum. I’ve seen you let third years wander the corridors after curfew as long as they promised to go straight to bed.”

Your face burned. “I was tired that night—”

“You’re always tired.” He tilted his head. “So forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical about this sudden burst of civic responsibility. It’s very out of character for you.”

The sheer audacity. The unmitigated gall. To accuse you of apathy and then dismiss you without so much as a backward glance? An ember of indignation flared to life and burned away the last vestiges of your tattered patience. He had no right. No right to stand there and act like he understood anything about you when he was the reason you’d learned to make yourself invisible in the first place.

And now here he was, cataloging your flaws with that same amused smile, like you were still just entertainment to him.

“Fine,” you bit out. “Don’t take my offer. See if I care.”

“Oh, I won’t.” He turned back toward the entrance hall, waving a hand dismissively over his shoulder. “I’m patrolling the grounds. You can join me or check the upper floors. Your choice.”

“Why do you just get to decide that on your own? The grounds aren’t even part of the standard patrol route!”

"They are tonight," he tossed over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn around.

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

And with that spectacularly unhelpful explanation, he walked out the front doors, leaving you standing slack-jawed and sputtering in his wake.

This was it. The moment of truth. You had approximately five seconds to make a decision that would either save your best friend from expulsion or doom her to a fate worse than death.

Option one: let Jaemin go off on his own. He'd catch Jo, she'd be expelled, and you'd spend the rest of your life weighed down by the guilt of your inaction.

Option two: follow him, try to run interference, and most likely fail spectacularly but hey, at least you could say you tried.

In the end, your choice was clear. The reckless, devil-may-care loyalty that had landed you in Gryffindor in the first place reared its noble head, and before you quite knew what you were doing, you were hurrying out the doors after Jaemin, resignation and foreboding dogging your every step.

"I'm coming!" you called after him.

Jaemin spun around, one eyebrow quirked in a way that suggested he'd interpreted your words in a decidedly less innocent manner.

"To the grounds," you clarified hastily, feeling your face heat up. "To patrol. With you."

“I gathered that much,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “Though I appreciate the clarification. Wouldn’t want any misunderstandings.”

You glared at him, but he’d already turned back around, that damned smirk still visible in profile.

Beyond the castle corridors, the night grounds felt twice as ominous. Shadows stretched from the Forbidden Forest, where twisted branches reached toward the sky like gnarled fingers against the dark. Nearby, the Black Lake remained a silent mirror, its surface only occasionally broken by ripples that hinted at the heavy, mysterious life lurking in the depths.

Jaemin had conjured a floating orb of soft white light to guide your path, which was considerate yet irritating, as it seemed to delight in hovering mere inches from your face and nearly blinding you. He walked with an easy grace, hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like this was just a casual evening stroll and not a patently absurd situation that could land you both in a world of trouble.

You, on the other hand, were so tense you could practically feel your muscles vibrating. Your mind raced as you tried to remember what Jo had told you about her planned rendezvous. 

They’d be in the grounds, obviously, but beyond that? Hogwarts' grounds spanned nearly a thousand acres and included everything from dense forest to rolling hills to a literal giant-squid-infested lake. If you were going to have any hope of intercepting Jo before Jaemin did, you needed a clearer idea of where exactly to look.

And you needed to keep him distracted.

“So,” Jaemin said, his voice cutting through your rising panic, “care to tell me what’s really going on here?”

“We’re patrolling,” you said, keeping your eyes fixed firmly ahead. “That’s what’s going on.”

“And I suppose you always volunteer for extra patrols on Saturday nights, do you? Just for the exercise?”

“Maybe I do. Fresh air is good for you.”

“Right.” He didn’t sound like he believed you for a second. “And here I thought you preferred to spend your evenings in the Restricted Section, avoiding human interaction as much as possible.”

You shot him a sideways glance. “Have you been spying on me?”

“It’s called being observant,” he said lightly. “You should try it sometime. Although I suppose that would require you to take an interest in something beyond your very busy schedule of going through the motions and avoiding anything that might resemble effort.”

There it was again, that annoying assessment of your character, delivered with a smile that made it impossible to tell if he was genuinely criticizing you or just winding you up for his own amusement.

Bristling, you planted your hands on your hips and glared up at him. "I put in effort when it matters."

"And I'm sure swapping shifts with Crockett was a matter of utmost importance, then?" His lips curved into a smirk that made you want to hex it right off his unfairly symmetrical face. "Go on. What’s so crucial about tonight? Did you lose a bet? Secret passion for night-time groundskeeping?”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because you’re terrible at being subtle, and watching you try is genuinely entertaining.” He grinned at your affronted expression. “Plus, I’m curious. You’ve spent the better part of six years being aggressively unremarkable, and now here you are, practically begging to patrol the grounds with me. It’s very out of character.”

“Stop acting like you know everything about me.”

“I might not know everything about you,” he said, his voice taking on a knowing tone, “But I know you’re trying to protect someone.”

Your heart skipped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. The floating light cast strange shadows across his features, making his expression harder to read. “Here’s what I think is happening. There’s someone out here meeting someone they shouldn’t be meeting. You agreed to swap with Crockett to cover for that person, expecting me to skip patrol like I apparently always do. But I didn’t, so now you’re stuck trying to run interference while pretending this is all perfectly normal.”

You stared at him, your mouth going dry. He’d worked it out. As expected, Na Jaemin might be annoying and smug and entirely too pleased with himself, but he’d never been stupid.

“That’s…” you started, but your voice came out weak. “That’s a very creative theory.”

“You’ve gone red again.” He tilted his head, studying you. “Dead giveaway.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but closed it again, floundering. There was absolutely no way to explain your actions without either incriminating Jo or making yourself look even more suspicious. You were well and truly cornered, and the triumphant gleam in Jaemin's eyes told you he knew it.

But before you could cobble together a halfway coherent response, a sound drifted through the night air that made you stop cold.

Laughter.

More specifically, Jo's laughter, bright and carefree and coming from somewhere worryingly close by.

Jaemin froze too, his eyes narrowing. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" you asked, feigning ignorance even as your heart threatened to beat its way out of your ribcage. "I didn't hear anything. Probably just the wind. It howls around the turrets sometimes..."

"That wasn't the wind." He was already moving again, long legs eating up the ground as he strode purposefully toward the source of the sound. "That was a person, maybe two, from the sounds of it"

"What? No, that's—I really think it was just the wind. Or maybe Peeves playing a prank. You know what a menace he is, always causing trouble, we should probably go back inside and—"

But he wasn't listening. Because he'd caught the scent of rule-breaking, and Merlin forbid he let it go in favor of the much more appealing option of minding his own damn business.

You had no choice. You were either going to have to physically stop him (a laughable notion - he had a good six inches and probably thirty pounds of muscle on you), or you were going to have to get to Jo first.

The words were out of your mouth before you could think better of them. "Wait!"

Miraculously, he actually stopped walking and turned to look at you, one eyebrow arched expectantly.

"I—" Your mind raced, grasping for any excuse, any diversion, anything to keep him from taking another step. "I think I saw something. Over there." You pointed vaguely off to your left, in the opposite direction of Jo's laughter. "We should go check it out."

Jaemin regarded you with exasperation. "You know, for someone who's spent the better part of six years avoiding attention, you're shockingly bad at subterfuge."

"I–I'm just being cautious. It's dark out here, and there could be...things. Dangerous things. Like snargaluffs, or...or a moke on the loose."

"A moke," he repeated flatly. "An invisible lizard the size of a mouse. You think I should be worried about a moke ambushing me.”

 “They can be vicious!”

“They’re ten inches tall.”

“Size isn’t everything,” you shot back, then immediately regretted it as his grin widened into something positively wicked.

“I’ll have to take your word for that,” he said smoothly, and you felt your face flame.

“That’s not—I didn’t mean—oh, for Merlin’s sake.” You covered your face with your hands, wondering if it was possible to die of embarrassment. “Can we please just check the trees?”

“Why?” He took a step closer, and you had to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. “What are you so afraid I’m going to find if we keep going this way?”

You hesitated, weighing your options. On the one hand, the truth was unthinkable. You couldn't just throw Jo to the wolves like that, not after you'd promised to cover for her. On the other hand, you were rapidly running out of plausible lies, and Jaemin clearly wasn't buying any of them.

“Nothing,” you said, but it came out weak and unconvincing even to your own ears.

“Nothing,” he echoed. “Right. So you won’t mind if I just—”

He made to move past you, toward where Jo’s laughter had come from, and you did the only thing you could think of.

You grabbed his arm.

The moment your fingers closed around his sleeve, you realized what a monumentally stupid mistake you’d made. You could feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric and the solid muscle beneath. He stilled instantly, his gaze dropping to where your hand clutched at him, then slowly lifting to meet your eyes.

“Please,” you said quietly, all pretense abandoned. “Don’t go over there. Just—just forget you heard anything, and I’ll explain later. I promise.”

He studied you for a long moment. You were acutely aware of how close you were standing, of the way his eyes seemed to catch every flicker of emotion that crossed your face.

"So you are covering for someone," he said at last. "A friend, I'm guessing. The one you're always with? The loud one, with the"—he gestured vaguely—"the hair?"

"Her hair is perfectly normal, thank you very much, and I don't see how that's any of your business."

"It absolutely is my business, seeing as there are students out of bed and I'm a prefect. I'm supposed to report this sort of thing, you know."

"Yes, well, I'm also a prefect, and I'm asking you not to." Desperation bled into your voice, and you hated it, hated that you were practically begging him for something that you had no right to ask for. “Please, Jaemin. Can't you just...look the other way? Just this once?"

He was silent for a long moment, and you braced yourself for the inevitable. For the sneer, the cutting remark, the gleeful reminder that he was a Slytherin and Slytherins didn't do favors without expecting something in return.

But when he finally spoke, his voice was surprisingly soft. "You really care about her, don't you? Your friend."

You swallowed hard, caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone. "She's my best friend. I'd do anything for her."

"Even lie to a fellow prefect and risk getting in trouble yourself."

"Yes." You met his gaze squarely, unflinching. "Even that."

Another long silence, and then he sighed. "All right, fine."

You blinked. "Fine?"

"Fine, I won't report her. But"—he held up a hand as you opened your mouth to thank him—"I want something in return."

There it was. You should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Slytherins always had an angle, and Jaemin was Slytherin to the core.

Wariness crept into your voice as you asked, "What sort of something?"

His lips curved into a smile that could only be described as predatory. "A favor. One favor, to be determined by me, at a time of my choosing. Do this, and I'll conveniently forget I heard anything tonight."

Your stomach dropped. A favor. An open-ended, unspecified, could-be-anything favor, owed to Na Jaemin. Well. This was how you died, not in a blaze of glory like a true Gryffindor, but in the thrall of a serpent's forked tongue and devastating jawline.

But what choice did you have? If you refused, Jo would be caught for sure. And then she'd be expelled, and it would be all your fault, and you'd have to live with the guilt for the rest of your life. A life which, frankly, was looking shorter and shorter with each passing minute as Jaemin stared you down, waiting for your answer.

"Fine," you said through gritted teeth. "One favor. But nothing illegal or dangerous or humiliating."

His smile widened, showing far too many teeth for your comfort. "Look at that. You’re negotiating. Will wonders never cease?"

"Those are my terms. Take them or leave them."

"Oh, I'll take them." He held out a hand, long fingers uncurling in an inviting gesture. "Shall we shake on it?"

You glared at his hand like it might bite you (and really, with Jaemin, who knew?) but reluctantly reached out and grasped it. His skin was warm, his grip firm, and you tried very hard not to think about how nice his hand felt in yours.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he murmured, and was it your imagination or did his thumb just stroke across your knuckles?

You snatched your hand back like you'd been burned, face flushing. "Yes, well. You'd better hold up your end of the bargain."

"I'm a man of my word." He sketched a mocking little bow. "Your friend's secret is safe with me for now."

The words 'for now' hung there as a silent threat, and you suppressed a shiver. What had you just agreed to? What price would you have to pay for your loyalty?

As if reading your thoughts, Jaemin's smile turned sly. "Don't look so worried. I promise I won't ask for anything too dreadful. Probably."

"Probably," you repeated faintly.

"Probably," he confirmed, and then he turned on his heel and started back toward the castle, leaving you to trail after him in a daze.

The rest of the patrol passed in a blur. You walked in silence, Jaemin seemingly content to let you stew in your own anxiety, and by the time you returned to the Entrance Hall, you were a nervous wreck. You kept imagining all the horrible things he might ask for—doing his homework for the rest of the term, being his personal servant, confessing to McGonagall that you were the one who'd let those nifflers loose in the staff room last year (even though that had been entirely Jo's doing and you'd just been an unwilling accomplice).

At the foot of the stairs, Jaemin paused and turned to face you. In the dim light of the entrance hall, his eyes were pools of shadow, unreadable and fathomless.

"I'll be in touch," he said, his voice low and full of dark promise. "Sweet dreams."

And then he was gone, melting into the shadows like he'd been born from them, leaving you with a racing heart and the sinking certainty that your life was about to become a lot more complicated.

The next morning, you cornered Jo in the common room before breakfast, pulling her into the corner by the window where no one could overhear.

“Tell me everything went okay last night,” you demanded without preamble. “Please tell me you didn’t do something insane—”

“Whoa, whoa!” Jo held up her hands, her eyes wide. “I’m fine! Everything went perfectly. Well, mostly perfectly. There was a weird moment where I thought I heard someone coming, but then nothing happened, so…” She trailed off, then grabbed your shoulders. “Wait. What happened to you? You look like you haven’t slept.”

“That’s because I haven’t.” You started pacing anxiously. “Jo. I think I might have done something really, really stupid.”

Her expression changed from concern to dread in the span of a second. “What kind of stupid?”

“The kind that involves Na Jaemin and a debt to repay.”

“Oh no.” Jo’s face went pale. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.” You tugged at your hair, feeling the full weight of last night’s decision crushing down on you. “He wanted to patrol the grounds, Jo. He would have found you. I couldn’t let that happen, so I… I made a deal with him.”

Jo stared at you like you'd just confessed to murdering the Minister of Magic. "You made a deal with Na Jaemin. The boy who once convinced half the school that Professor Flitwick was secretly a goblin in disguise."

"To be fair, he has a dash of goblin blood..."

"Not the point!" She grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to stop pacing. "What kind of deal are we talking about here? What did you promise him?"

You took a deep breath. "A favor."

"A favor," she repeated slowly. "What kind of favor?"

“The unspecified kind. The ‘to be determined at a later date’ kind. The ‘I now owe Na Jaemin a debt that he can collect on whenever he wants’ kind.”

She looked about two seconds away from fainting. “You didn’t.”

“I panicked!” you wailed, not caring that you were probably drawing attention from the other early risers scattered around the common room. “It was either agree to the favor or let him catch you with Mr. Mysterious! What was I supposed to do?”

“Not sell your soul to a Slytherin, for starters!” She released you and began pacing, chewing on her thumbnail in that way she only did when she was truly stressed. “This is bad. This is really, really bad. Na Jaemin with a favor from you? He could ask for anything. Anything.”

“You think I don’t know that?” You dropped your head into your hands. “I’ve been up all night imagining the horrible things he might ask for. What if he wants me to do something illegal? What if he wants me to sabotage someone? What if he wants me to—” You shuddered. “—publicly humiliate myself somehow?”

Jo stopped pacing, her expression shifting from panic to determination. “Okay. Okay, we’re not going to catastrophize. Yes, this is bad. Yes, owing Jaemin a favor is potentially disastrous. But it’s not the end of the world.”

“Isn’t it though?”

“No.” She sat down beside you, taking your hand. “Listen to me. You did this to protect me. You put yourself on the line because you’re a good friend, the best friend, and I’m not going to let you face this alone. Whatever Jaemin asks for, we’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

You wanted to take comfort in her words, in the fierce loyalty shining in her eyes. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just made a deal with the devil, and the bill would come due sooner rather than later.

“Okay,” you said quietly, squeezing her hand. “Together.”

“Together,” she confirmed. Then her expression turned mischievous. “Besides, who knows? Maybe he’ll ask for something simple. Like help with his Potions essay or something.”

You snorted despite yourself. “Jaemin doesn’t need help with Potions. He’s annoyingly good at everything.”

“Well then maybe he’ll ask you to—I don’t know—organize his sock drawer? Polish his prefect badge?”

“Jo.”

“I’m just saying, it might not be as bad as you think!”

But even as you tried to let her optimism buoy you, you couldn't shake the feeling that your life had just changed irrevocably. That in agreeing to owe Jaemin a favor, you'd set into motion a chain of events that you couldn't possibly predict or control.

Whatever he wanted from you, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be something as simple as organizing his socks.

A haze of anxiety and paranoia defined the following week, one that had you reaching a level of vigilance that would have impressed even Mad-Eye Moody.

You jumped at every sudden noise, flinched every time a Slytherin so much as glanced in your direction, and spent an inordinate amount of time scanning the Great Hall for any sign of Jaemin’s blonde head bent in whispered conversation with his housemates, plotting your doom.

To avoid him, you mapped out convoluted routes to class, opting for deserted corridors even when they made you late. Mealtimes were rescheduled to avoid the rush—breakfast at dawn, lunch in the late afternoon, and dinner only when the Hall had emptied to a few stragglers. In Potions, which was the one class you shared with him, you positioned yourself as far from his usual spot as physically possible, practically pressed against the dungeon wall, and refused to so much as breathe in his direction.

Not that it mattered… Because he didn’t approach you at all.

He just watched you.

From across the courtyard, his gaze would find you through a flurry of Slytherin green. Other times, your eyes would drift upward in Potions only to find him already staring, head propped lazily in his palm. He looked for all the world as if you were far more entertaining than any lecture Professor Slughorn could provide.

You started second-guessing everything. The way you sat, the way you spoke, the way you tugged at your sleeve or tucked your hair behind your ear when nervous. You found yourself becoming a caricature of yourself: rigid, overly cautious, desperate to give nothing away.

By the end of the week, you were a nervous wreck. You’d bitten your nails down to the quick. Developed a stress-induced rash on your neck that no amount of Essence of Dittany could soothe. And even started having vivid nightmares about Jaemin cornering you in increasingly absurd locations like the Prefects’ bathroom, or memorably in the middle of a Quidditch match where he’d swooped down on a broom to demand you juggle puffapods while the entire school watched.

“You need to sleep,” Jo said on Friday night, eyeing the bags under your eyes with concern. “This is getting ridiculous. You look like you’ve been hit with a Confundus Charm.”

“I can’t sleep,” you muttered, your third cup of coffee cooling forgotten beside your Transfiguration essay. “Every time I close my eyes, I just see his face. That stupid, smug, infuriatingly perfect face.”

Jo’s eyebrows shot up. “Perfect?”

“Putrid,” you corrected hastily, feeling your face heat. “I meant putrid. The point is, I can’t relax knowing that at any moment, he could just… appear and demand whatever horrific thing he’s been planning.”

“Maybe he’s forgotten about it,” Jo suggested, though she didn’t sound convinced. “Maybe he was just messing with you, and he never actually intended to collect.”

You wanted to believe that. You really did. But you’d seen the satisfied glint in Jaemin’s eyes when you’d shaken hands.

No. He hadn’t forgotten. He was just biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The weekend dragged on with NEWTs studying, failed naps and increasingly creative avoidance techniques. By Sunday morning, you were so on edge that when an owl swooped down at breakfast and dropped a letter directly onto your plate, you actually screamed.

Half the Gryffindor table turned to stare.

“It’s just the post,” Jo said soothingly, though she was eyeing the letter with nearly as much suspicion as you were. “Probably from your mother.”

Your hands shook as you picked up the envelope. The handwriting was your mother’s, thank Merlin, and you sagged with relief as you broke the seal.

“See?” Jo said. “You’re being paranoid.”

“Can you blame me?” you muttered, scanning your mother’s cheerful recounting of your aunt’s latest garden gnome infestation. “It’s been a week, Jo. A whole week of nothing. It’s unnatural.”

“Psychological warfare, that’s what this is. Classic Slytherin mind games. He’s letting you stew, letting the anticipation build, until you’re so wound up that you’ll agree to anything just to put yourself out of your misery.”

“Thank you, Jo,” you said through gritted teeth, stabbing your sausage with enough force to make your fork screech against the plate. “That’s incredibly comforting.”

“I’m just saying, it’s textbook manipulation.” She reached for the marmalade, unbothered by your glare. “My cousin Fergus dated a girl from that house once, and she used to—” 

But you never found out what Jo's cousin's Slytherin ex-girlfriend did, because at that moment, a hush fell over the Great Hall. You looked up, already knowing what you'd see, and felt your stomach drop straight through the floor.

Jaemin was walking toward the Gryffindor table with purpose and intent, his long strides eating up the distance between the Slytherin table and yours. His eyes were fixed on you with such singular focus that you couldn’t have looked away if you tried. 

There was a small satisfied smile playing on his lips.

He was enjoying this, the utter bastard. Enjoying the way every eye in the hall was now fixed on you, the way whispers erupted in his wake like the hissing of a hundred snakes.

He came to a stop directly across from you, and you had to crane your neck to meet his eyes. They were dancing with amusement, and you had the sudden, wild urge to tip your pumpkin juice into his lap.

"Good morning," he said, for all the world as if this were a perfectly normal interaction and not a blatant violation of the unwritten rules that governed breakfast seating arrangements. "Sleep well?"

You gaped at him, too stunned to formulate a response. Beside you, Jo made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort hastily disguised as a cough.

Jaemin’s smile widened, showing a flash of teeth. “I’ll take that as a no.” His gaze swept over you, taking in the bags under your eyes, the coffee stains on your robes, the general air of sleep-deprived panic you’d been cultivating all week. “Have you been avoiding me?”

The question was delivered lightly, almost teasingly, but there was an undercurrent to it. A knowing edge that said he was perfectly aware of every corridor you’d ducked down, every meal you’d skipped, every desperate attempt you’d made to stay out of his path.

“Avoiding you?” you repeated with a nervous laugh. “Of course not. I’ve been—I’ve been busy. Studying and stuff.”

“Mm.” He didn’t sound remotely convinced. “Well, you’re not busy now, are you? I need to talk to you.” He paused, letting his gaze sweep meaningfully across the rapt faces surrounding you. “Privately.”

Oh no. Oh no no no.

"Huh?" you said eloquently.

"Talk. Privately," he repeated, enunciating each syllable as if you were a particularly slow-witted troll.

“I’m eating breakfast,” you said weakly, gesturing at your plate where your eggs had gone cold and congealed.

“You can eat later.” It wasn’t a suggestion. “Come on. This won’t take long.”

Every fiber of your being wanted to plant yourself in your seat and force him to either leave or make a scene. But you could feel the weight of the entire school’s attention pressing down on you. 

You glanced around, taking in the avid stares, the blatant eavesdropping, the gleeful anticipation on every face. Even the staff table looked uncommonly interested, with Professor McGonagall peering at you over her spectacles and Flitwick not even pretending not to listen in.

"Fine," you bit out, shoving back from the table with enough force to make the dishes rattle. "Lead the way."

Jaemin inclined his head, that infuriating smile still playing about his lips, and turned to walk out of the hall. You followed, determinedly ignoring the explosion of chatter that erupted in your wake.

He led you out of the castle, across the dew-damp lawn, all the way to the edge of the lake where a lone beech tree stretched its branches over the water. It was, you noted sourly, an incredibly picturesque spot for a clandestine meeting. Almost as if he'd planned it that way.

"All right," you said, crossing your arms and fixing him with your best glare. "What do you want?"

He leaned against the tree trunk, the picture of nonchalance, and regarded you with a calculating expression. "I think you know."

"The favor," you said flatly.

"The favor," he agreed. "Time to pay up, I'm afraid."

Your heart began to race at this, palms turning clammy as every horrible scenario you'd imagined over the past week came rushing back.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Fine. What is it? What do you want me to do?"

Jaemin pushed off the tree and took a few steps toward you until he was so close you could see the individual flecks of gold in his dark eyes. 

He looked down at you, his expression turning serious, almost solemn. "I need you," he said softly, "to be my girlfriend."

What the fuck. 

You stared at him dumbly. Surely he'd said something else—"be my guard friend" or literally anything that made more sense than what you thought you'd heard. But after several seconds of awkward silence he simply stood there, staring back.

"I'm sorry," you said at last. "I must have misheard you. It sounded like you just said—"

"Be my girlfriend," he repeated, enunciating each word carefully. "That's the favor I'm asking."

You searched his face for any sign that this was a prank, or at the very least a bizarre figment of your overtired and overstressed imagination.

But he looked deadly serious, his eyes never leaving yours, his jaw set in a way that suggested he was bracing himself for your reaction.

"Right," you said slowly. "Okay. So you've clearly been hit with a Bludger recently. Or maybe you inhaled some dodgy spores from the Forest?" You peered at him more closely, genuinely concerned now. "I think you might be having some sort of mental episode—"

"I'm not having a mental episode."

You started backing away slowly, hands raised placatingly. “Just stay there, I'm going to go get help. Maybe Madam Pomfrey has an antidote for whatever's happened to your brain—" 

"My brain is fine," Jaemin said, and he actually had the audacity to look amused. "I'm completely serious."

"That's even more concerning!" You threw your hands up. "Jaemin, you can't just—I mean, we barely even—we're not even friends! You spent two years torturing me and then four years pretending I didn't exist! And now you want me to be your girlfriend?"

"Fake girlfriend," he corrected.

"Oh, well, that changes everything," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Fake girlfriend. Of course. How silly of me. That makes perfect sense."

"It does, actually, if you'd let me explain—"

"No. Absolutely not. This is—this is insane. You've lost your mind. Gone completely round the bend." You started pacing frantically. "You could have literally any girl in this school. Any girl! I’m sure there’s probably a waiting list even. And you want me to pretend to date you?"

"Yes."

"Why?!"

"Because you're perfect for this," he said with a shrug.

You let out a slightly hysterical laugh. "I'm what now?"

"Perfect," he repeated, and there wasn't a trace of humor in his voice now. "Think about it. You're a half-blood—"

"Oh don’t start with that blood purity crap—"

"No, I mean that it works perfectly because you're not involved in pureblood politics. You're not part of my usual social circle. You have no reason to want anything from me or my family beyond this one favor." He was ticking points off on his fingers now. "If we start dating, it'll be believable precisely because it's so unexpected."

"You think people will just believe that we're dating. You and me."

"Why not?"

"Because—" You gestured wildly between the two of you. "—because look at us! You're you, and I'm—I'm me! I spend my free time reading in corners and avoiding human interaction! You spend yours being disgustingly popular and having your pick of the female population! We have nothing in common! We don't even like each other!"

"All excellent points for why no one will suspect it's fake," he said smoothly. "If I were trying to stage a relationship, I’d pick someone more obvious. Someone from my house, someone I'm already friendly with. The fact that it's you makes it more authentic."

You stared at him, your brain struggling to process this absolute madness. "Have you been Imperisued or something? Seriously, I'm genuinely worried about you right now."

"I appreciate your concern," he said dryly. "But I assure you, I'm thinking perfectly clearly."

"Then explain it to me," you demanded, throwing your hands up in exasperation. "Because from where I'm standing, this makes about as much sense as trying to teach a troll how to read. Why on earth would you need a fake girlfriend? You're Na Jaemin! Half the school is in love with you! If you wanted a real girlfriend, you could probably just point at someone and they'd swoon into your arms!"

"That's actually part of the problem," he muttered, and was that... was that a hint of frustration in his voice?

You blinked. "What?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "There's a girl. Yuna. Her family and mine... they move in the same circles. Have for generations. Old pureblood families, lots of money, all that tedious rubbish."

"Okay...?"

"And lately, she's gotten it into her head that we're meant to be together. That it's our destiny to unite our families, carry on the pureblood tradition, produce the next generation of perfectly bred wizarding heirs." His voice was slightly tinged with disgust. "She won't take no for an answer."

Despite yourself, despite the absolute insanity of this entire situation, you felt a bit of sympathy. "And you don't want that."

"I'd rather wrestle a Hungarian Horntail," he said flatly. "But she's not listening. Every time I tell her I'm not interested, she just smiles and says I'm playing hard to get. That I'll come around eventually."

"That's..." You searched for the appropriate words. "That's actually kind of disturbing."

"It's extremely disturbing," he agreed. "And I can't just tell her to fuck off, because our families... it's complicated. There's business deals, social connections, generations of intertwined pureblood nonsense. If I publicly reject her, it could cause all sorts of problems."

"So you need a girlfriend," you said slowly, finally starting to understand. "A visible reason why you can't be with her."

"Exactly." He gave you a hopeful look. "Someone who won't get caught up in the drama and then can walk away clean when it's over. Someone like you."

You covered your face with your hands and sighed. "This is still insane."

"Is it though?"

"Yes! Completely, utterly, absolutely insane!" You started pacing again. "Jaemin, in case it's escaped your notice, we can barely stand each other! We've barely had a conversation longer than five minutes that didn't involve you annoying me or me wanting to hex you! How exactly do you propose we convince anyone we're madly in love?"

"We don't have to be madly in love," he said. "Just... dating. You know, just act like a regular couple, sit together at meals, go to Hogsmeade on weekends. People see us together, word gets back to Yuna, she backs off. Simple."

"Simple?” you repeated incredulously. "You think any part of this is simple?"

"More simple than the alternative." His expression turned serious. "Look, I wouldn't ask if I had any other choice. But I'm running out of options here, and you're—" He paused. "You're the only person I can trust with this."

That brought you up short. “You barely know me."

"I know enough," he said quietly. "I know you're loyal. I know you'd do anything for your friends, you proved that when you made our deal. I know you're not interested in status or popularity or any of the things most people want from me. And I know that when this is over, you'll keep your word and walk away."

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. This wasn't the smug, teasing Jaemin from the patrol or the cold, dismissive one from your earlier years. This was someone... genuine. Vulnerable, even.

"I think I need to sit down," you said faintly.

There was a convenient rock nearby and you sank down onto it, your head spinning.

"So just let me make sure I got it right," you said, staring out at the lake. "You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend. To protect you from an obsessive pureblood heiress who won't take no for an answer and so you won’t get trapped into a marriage of convenience.”

"That's the gist of it, yes."

"For how long?"

"A month? Maybe two at most."

"Two months?!" You whipped around to stare at him. "You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend for two months? Are you completely off your rocker?!"

“Come on, two months isn’t even that long—"

"Two months is eight weeks! Sixty days! Over a thousand hours of my life spent pretending to be in love with you!" You were nearly hyperventilating now. You shot to your feet, pacing again. 

“Again, no need to be madly in love—"

"And have you thought about the logistics of this?" You spun to face him. "Every girl in this castle is going to hate me! They already probably think we're shagging or something after your little breakfast stunt, and that was two minutes! Imagine two months of that! I'll need to go into witness protection!"

“I think that’s a bit of an overreaction.”

"Jaemin, people will actually want to murder me. There will be attempts on my life. I'll have to taste-test all my food for poison. Sleep with one eye open. Practice a good shield charm—"

"Nobody's going to try to murder you."

"You don’t know that!"

“And we wouldn't even be together the entire time," he continued as if you hadn't spoken. "Just... in public. Where people can see us. The rest of the time you can go back to pretending I don't exist."

You let out a laugh that bordered on hysteria. "Oh, well, that makes it so much better. Thank you for that generous concession."

"Are you finished panicking?" he asked mildly.

You glared at him. "No. No, I'm not finished. I'm just getting started. Do you have any idea how exhausting this sounds? How mortifying? I've spent six years perfecting the art of being invisible, and now you want me to voluntarily become the center of attention? The subject of gossip and speculation? Do you know what that will do to me?"

“Come on, it won’t be that bad.”

He seemed too casual about all this. It made you wonder if he did this sort of thing often. Not that it would be surprising, purebloods had weird customs that you could never begin to understand.

"Okay," you said slowly after a few seconds of gathering what little patience you had. "Okay. Let's say—and I'm not agreeing to anything—but let's say I did this. Don't you think people would find it a bit suspicious? Us dating out of nowhere? We've barely spoken in years. We're not friends or even friendly. People aren't stupid, Jaemin."

"We'll say we've been keeping it quiet," he said, like he'd already thought this through. "We didn’t want the attention, wanted to make sure it was real before we went public. No one will question it if we sell it right."

"And how exactly do you propose we do that?" You fixed him with a glare.

“Easy. We make it look like we can't keep our hands off each other. You know, hold hands, and that sort of thing. Make it look convincing."

“You want me to hold your hand?”

"Among other things."

"What does that even mean…?”

"Well, we'd have to play it convincingly," he said reasonably. "Couples don't just hold hands. They sit close. They touch. They..." He paused, his eyes glinting with amusement. "They kiss occasionally."

"KISS?!" The word came out as a strangled shriek. "You want me to kiss you?!"

"I mean, not right now necessarily—"

“Oh, you’re barking mad if you think I will kiss you!”

"Come on, y/n. It's just a bit of acting. Surely a clever girl like you can manage that?" His voice dropped, turning silky and persuasive.

You bristled slightly at the blatant flattery even as some traitorous part of you warmed at the compliment. "And what's in it for me? Besides the joy of being glared at by every girl in this castle and kissing your dumb face?"

"The fact that I won’t tell McGonagall about your little friend’s nocturnal escapade isn’t enough for you?” he reminded you.

You froze, shoulders tensing. "You're really going to hold me to that? For something this insane?"

"A deal's a deal. I helped you and nowI need your help."

"I don't know," you said slowly. "This is...it's a lot to ask."

"I know." He took another step closer, his eyes intent on yours. "But I'm asking anyway. I need your help, y/n. Please."

You had agreed to this. You had shaken his hand, accepted his help, promised him a favor. And now he was calling it in.

"This is blackmail," you said weakly.

"It's really not."

You stared at him, at his stupidly handsome face and his infuriating certainty, and felt the trap closing around you. You still could refuse,  tell him to shove his favor and walk away. But then he could—would—tell McGonagall about Jo. And Jo would be expelled. And it would be all your fault.

"Fuck," you groaned.

"Is that a yes then? he said. 

You truly hated everything about this.

Still, you heard yourself say, "Two months. That's it. And we need to set ground rules, boundaries. I'm not going to do anything that makes me uncomfortable."

Relief flashed across his face, there and gone so quickly you might have imagined it. "Okay, that’s fair."

"And when it's over, we go back to normal. No hard feelings. We just... end it and move on."

"Agreed." He held out a hand, his eyes never leaving yours. "So. Do we have a deal?"

You hesitated for a long moment, your heart pounding so hard you were certain he must be able to hear it. This was, without question, the most insane thing you had ever considered doing. It was reckless and impulsive and had the potential to blow up in your face in a truly spectacular fashion.

But looking up into Jaemin's eyes, seeing something that might have been hope or desperation or both, you found yourself reaching out and taking his hand anyway.

"Deal," you said, and sealed your fate for the second time in a week.

"Excellent." His smile was pure satisfaction. "I'll pick you up for breakfast tomorrow. Try to look a little pleased to see me and not like you want to murder me."

"I make no promises," you muttered.

As you walked back toward the castle, your mind whirling with the absolute insanity of what you'd just agreed to, one thought kept circling back:

Na Jaemin, Slytherin prince and general menace to your sanity, wanted you to be his fake girlfriend.

Jo was never going to believe this.

A waking nightmare—that was the only way to describe the days following the grand revelation of your supposed relationship.

It felt as though Hogwarts had contracted a plague, a virulent strain of "Y/N-and-Jaemin" fever that consumed everyone from the dungeons to the astronomy tower. No one could quite wrap their heads around the unlikely pairing of a Gryffindor nobody and the Slytherin prince, and that confusion turned into a collective obsession.

Everywhere you went, eyes followed. First-years openly gawked as you passed. Third-years whispered behind their hands, their eyes following your every move with ravenous curiosity. Even the portraits seemed more interested in your comings and goings, their painted heads swiveling to track your progress through the corridors.

Horrible as the attention was, the rumors were worse. Wild, baseless theories seemed to spawn from thin air, multiplying with the rapid, disgusting speed of Horklumps in a garden.

“They've been secretly dating since third year,” one voice hissed in the corridor, “before he was even popular, I heard.”

The theories only grew more ridiculous from there. According to a Ravenclaw, you had saved his life during a Quidditch match—or perhaps from a rogue curse. One Hufflepuff swore on her life she’d seen the two of you kissing in the Astronomy Tower a year ago. Most sinister of all were the whispers of blackmail or pranks, culminating in the one theory that nearly made you choke on your pumpkin juice: “Oh Merlin, do you think she’s pregnant?”

The attention was suffocating, oppressive, like being trapped in a greenhouse in the middle of summer with no windows and too many people pressing their faces against the glass. You couldn't breathe without someone noting it, vouldn't eat without a dozen pairs of eyes watching every bite, and couldn't so much as sneeze without someone speculating about whether Jaemin would find it endearing.

And as if the whole thing wasn’t a nightmare already, there was Jaemin himself. Whatever level of insufferable he had occupied before was nothing compared to this new persona: the devoted boyfriend that was attentive, affectionate, and clearly determined to make the charade as mortifying as humanly possible.

He'd materialize at your elbow between classes, his arrival heralded by the subtle scent of broom polish that never quite left his robes and that you were beginning to recognize with Pavlovian dread. He'd fall into step beside you with that athletic grace of his, his hand finding the small of your back with proprietary confidence.

“There you are,” he’d say, his voice carrying an affected breathlessness as if he’d been searching the entire castle rather than simply memorizing your schedule. “I was looking for you.”

“Were you,” came your flat reply, as you struggled to ignore the sudden weight of a hundred curious stares pinning you to the spot.

“Mm.” Without an ounce of hesitation, his hand would slide around your waist, hauling you firmly against his side. “Missed you in Charms. You disappeared before I could catch you.”

“I was in a rush,” you’d mutter, omitting the fact that the rush was specifically to escape him.

“I know.” His smile would be warm and intimate, a masterpiece of conviction. “Let’s walk together next time. I can’t stand being away from my princess for too long.”

A collective swoon would ripple through the nearby students at the display.

Mealtimes offered no reprieve. He'd bypass his usual spot at the Slytherin table entirely, crossing the Great Hall with long strides to slide onto the bench beside you at Gryffindor. The first time he'd done it, the entire Hall had gone silent, hundreds of heads swiveling to watch as Na Jaemin—too cool for cross-house fraternization—planted himself among the lions.

“Morning, princess,” he’d announce, his voice projecting just far enough for half the table to catch. A casual kiss to your temple followed, delivered with such affection that you nearly lost your balance on the bench.

A sharp kick from Jo connected with your shin under the table. Smile, her wide-eyed expression screamed. You’re supposed to be in love with him, remember?

Obediently, you’d attempt a smile. Though it likely looked more like a pained grimace, Jaemin seemed satisfied enough. His arm draped across your shoulders as he reached for the orange juice, acting as if this were the most natural routine in the world.

Every meal followed the same suffocating pattern. He was always there, a solid line of warmth pressed against your side. Beneath the table, his thigh would brush against yours, making you hyperaware of his every shift. Often, his hand would rest on your knee, his thumb tracing absent patterns that felt far too intimate for public consumtion. Occasionally he’d lean in, murmuring something pointless like “Pass the salt” or “Your hair looks nice today” into your ear—but to the rest of the room, it looked like he was whispering sweet nothings.

The Great Hall devoured every crumb of the spectacle.

But while the general student body watched with wide-eyed fascination, you were forced to contend with a far more dangerous audience: the inner circle.

Jaemin’s friends were not merely students; they were the closest thing Hogwarts had to a royal court. To exist within the castle walls was to know them by reputation—a collection of wealthy, beautiful purebloods who navigated the drafty corridors with the effortless entitlement of aristocrats. Yet, observing them from the safety of the Gryffindor table was entirely different from being the direct target of their scrutiny.

Giselle led the first offensive.

She didn't walk so much as glide, approaching the Gryffindor table like an elegant snake. Everything about her was designed to intimidate, from the lethal sharpness of her cheekbones to the glossy waves of hair that fell perfectly down her back. Even her uniform defied the rules; her tie was knotted into an oversized, rebellious bow that no prefect would ever have the courage to cite as a dress-code violation.

“Jaemin,” she purred, ignoring your existence entirely as she draped herself against the table. “We’ve missed you at breakfast. The Slytherin table is positively bereft without your presence.”

“I’m sure you’re all managing,” Jaemin replied, his tone conversational and mild. He didn't move his arm from its proprietary position across your shoulders.

“Barely.” Only then did her eyes slide toward you in a slow, assessing sweep that made you feel like a piece of furniture being appraised for auction. “And this must be the famous girlfriend. Y/N, was it?”

“Yes,” you managed, forced to swallow against the sudden dryness in your throat to keep your voice from cracking.

“Mm.” Her smile was sharp enough to cut glass. “How… unexpected. I don’t think we’ve ever spoken before, have we? What house are you in again?”

The question was a blatant insult, considering you were currently sitting at the Gryffindor table draped in scarlet and gold.

“Gryffindor,” you ground out through gritted teeth.

“Oh, right. Of course.” She paused to examine her dark green nails. “I always have trouble keeping track of the… quieter students. You must be one of those studious types. The ones who hide in the library all day.”

Boring. Forgettable. Beneath notice. The implication was clear. Beside you, Jo’s hand whitened as her grip tightened around her fork.

“I suppose so,” you said, choosing caution over a confrontation you weren't prepared to win.

“Cute.” Giselle’s smile widened, though it never reached her eyes. “Jaemin’s never been much for books, have you, Jaem? More of a... social creature. Though I’m sure you two have found something in common to keep things interesting.”

Beside you, Jaemin remained a statue of calm, taking a slow sip of his tea as if he were watching a particularly dull play rather than a verbal execution.

The pressure didn't let up as the days went on. A few days later, Changmin intercepted the two of you in the crowded corridor between Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Towering and broad-shouldered, he possessed the rugged, athletic build of a seasoned Beater. He didn't need words to dominate the space; his presence alone caused younger students to scatter like leaves. When he looked at you, his smile was so predatory and sharp it made you think of a wolf finally closing in on a scent it had been tracking for miles.

"So this is her," Changmin said, his eyes traveling over you with clinical detachment. "Have to say, mate, when you said you were seeing someone, I pictured… I don't know. Someone different."

Jaemin’s voice remained light, though his eyes turned piercing. "What do you mean?"

"Just… different." A shrug followed, along with a dismissive flick of his gaze. "No offense, of course."

"Of course," you echoed through a tight jaw.

"It’s just surprising, is all." Changmin gestured vaguely with one hand. "You’ve always gone for a certain type, and she’s… well, not that."

Not pretty enough, you knew he meant.

Jaemin’s arm hooked around you, pulling you into his side. "She’s exactly my type," he countered. "Perfect, actually."

His words were meant to be reassuring but they'd just made you feel more like a prop in whatever game he was playing.

A shift in strategy occurred by the following week. The subtle snubs evolved into a coordinated siege as Changmin and Giselle began appearing together, a united front of immaculate hair, expensive robes, and thinly veiled hostility.

They seemed to materialize in every common space you frequented, armed with false smiles and poisonous pleasantries. Every interaction was a minefield; every question was a calculated probe designed to expose the fraying seams in your story.

Their interrogation didn't stop at the legitimacy of your relationship. They began taking aim at the very fabric of your life... Quite literally.

"Those robes," Giselle remarked during a chance encounter in the corridor, her eyes sweeping over your silhouette with a look of practiced pity. "Are they... vintage? They have that distinctive, worn quality. That 'hand-me-down' aesthetic."

The fabric felt suddenly heavy and scratchy against your skin. They had been your mother's, mended with care and kept clean through sheer effort, but they lacked the shimmer of new silk. Heat flooded your face, a hot prickle of shame you hated yourself for feeling.

"They're fine," you muttered, clutching your books tighter to your chest.

"Oh, I'm sure they're perfectly serviceable," she added, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Not everyone has the luxury of replacing their wardrobe every season, after all."

Changmin leaned across the table, his expression open and conversational, though his eyes remained predatory.

"So, what does your father do for work?" he asked, swirling the pumpkin juice in his goblet as if it were a fine vintage. "My father sits on the Wizengamot, of course. And Giselle’s family runs one of the largest potions corporations in Europe. It's always so interesting to hear what other families do."

"He works for the Ministry," you said shortly, keeping your eyes fixed on your plate.

"Oh? How prestigious. Which department? International Magical Cooperation? The Auror Office?"

"Magical Maintenance."

The silence that followed was heavy enough to suffocate. You didn't need to look up to feel the shockwave of silent communication passing between them. You could practically hear the click of the mental locks falling into place: the suppressed smirks, the shared glances, and the smug, knowing silence that broadcast exactly what they thought of your family’s status. You weren't just the 'wrong type' for Jaemin; in their eyes, you were a glitch in the social order.

"Very honest work, I’m sure," Giselle added finally, her voice carrying just enough to be heard at the neighboring tables. "Someone has to keep the toilets functioning."

Jo who'd been next to you the whole time, bolted upright, her face flushed a dangerous shade of scarlet. You moved instinctively, grabbing her arm and hauling her back into her seat before she could cause a scene.

The real ambush, however, didn't come until Friday evening.

You'd been in the library trying to calculate the magical decay of a complex curse for your Arithmancy assignment. Beside you, Jaemin had been hovering for the better part of an hour, his presence a persistent distraction.

"If you carry the nine there," he whispered, his long finger hovering over your string of equations, "doesn't the probability of a backfire increase by 12%?"

"No, Jaemin," you huffed, rubbing your temples where a dull ache was beginning to bloom. "This isn't Divination. You cannot simply guess your way through Arithmancy. Seven is a powerful magical prime, but in an inverted sequence, its weight is halved. I am trying to ensure you don't accidentally liquefy your own bones during the NEWTs."

"Right, right. Half the weight, double the trouble," he murmured. He wasn't even pretending to look at the numbers anymore; his gaze was fixed on the way you were biting your lip in concentration. "Explain the Pythagorean bridge to me again? That was very sexy."

A sharp retort about his lack of focus was halfway up your throat when the shadows fell over the table.

Giselle and Changmin. They were flanked by Sungchan, another Quidditch type you vaguely recognized, and a fourth person whose presence made the air leave your lungs in a rush.

Yuna.

She stood there, ice-blonde and perfectly beautiful. You felt Jaemin’s posture stiffen beside you. You hadn't known. He’d never mentioned she was part of his circle, that she was this close to the people he spent every waking hour with. The "fake" part of your relationship suddenly felt dangerously flimsy.

"Study date?" Giselle asked, sliding into the seat directly across from you. "I’m sorry, is that a textbook, Jaemin? I thought you used those as coasters."

Jaemin didn't look up from your parchment. "We're just working."

"It’s Friday night," Sungchan cut in, leaning heavily against a nearby bookshelf. "The guys are sneaking kegs of firewhisky into the common room as we speak. There’s a party starting in ten minutes, mate. We’ve been looking for you for an hour."

"I'm clearly busy, aren’t I?" Jaemin finally looked up, his voice hardening.

Yuna stepped forward, her dark eyes narrowing as she focused on you for the first time.

"Y/N, right?" she said, her voice a soft, melodic contrast to the tension. "What exactly have you done to him? Jaemin hasn't missed a Friday night since third year. And yet, here he is, looking at... what is that? Arithmancy?"

"It’s important for the exams," you said, your voice sounding steadier than you felt. "And he's actually quite good at it when he tries."

A snort of pure skepticism escaped Yuna. "Since when is calculating the weight of a hex more entertaining than a party?"

"Since I realized I was failing," Jaemin interjected smoothly, reaching out to lace his fingers with yours atop the table. You knew it was a calculated move, a public display for the one person who mattered. "Y/N pointed out that if I don't pass the Arithmancy boards, I won't be able to take the advanced Theo-Magic track next year. She's very persuasive when she wants to be."

"Persuasive, huh?" Giselle repeated, though her eyes flicked toward Yuna to gauge her reaction. “I can only imagine the things she can do, if she’s managed to make you skip every single party since you started dating.”

Giselle’s implication was blatant, dripping with enough tawdry subtext to make your cheeks flame. You looked at Jaemin, waiting for him to shred her with his notorious silver tongue. Instead, he remained maddeningly static. Only the slight tightening of his jaw betrayed his irritation.

“Did you know there’s actually a betting pool regarding how long youll two last?” Yuna asked, her tone conversational, as if she were discussing the Quidditch scores than your social execution. “The smart money says two weeks. That is, if the novelty doesn’t wear off by Tuesday.”

The news hit your stomach with a cold, hollow thud. “There’s a what?”

“Don’t look so scandalized.” she waved a hand, her emerald ring catching the light. “It’s nothing personal, darling. People adore a spectacle, and this is a bewildering one. Jaemin has spent years as the prize everyone was chasing, and then he suddenly chooses...”

She trailed off. Her silence was more eloquent than any insult.

"The weird girl who hides in corners," Sungchan supplied helpfully. "No offense."

"Loads taken," you snapped before you could stop yourself.

“So defensive.” Yuna chuckled cruelly.

“That’s enough,” Jaemin said. His voice lost its playful lilt, replaced by a low edge. It was the sound of a predator deciding a conversation had reached its conclusion.

“We’re just teasing, Jaem. Don’t be so sensitive.” Giselle stood, smoothing her robes. “If Y/N is going to be part of our inner circle, she’ll need a thicker skin. We aren't known for our gentleness.”

“I am dating Jaemin,” you said, your voice finally steady. “Not applying to be your friend.”

The temperature at the table dropped approximately ten degrees.

“Well,” Yuna said, her delicate features arranging themselves into an expression of theatrical, wide-eyed surprise. “It seems the little bird has claws after all."

They had successfully poked at the seams of your composure and were now departing before the scene became truly messy.

"A little parting advice, Y/N," Giselle said, pausing as she turned. "The more defensive you become, the more it appears as though you’re hiding something. And in this school, secrets are the only currency that matters."

Then they were gone. The only sound left was the rustle of their expensive robes fading into the library stacks. You sat there, shaking, while Jaemin’s fingers remained locked with yours.

“They’re foul,” you muttered, the sharp thud of your textbook echoing too loudly against the mahogany table. “Your friends are actually vipers, Jaemin.”

“I know.” His reply was flat, lacking any of the heat you were looking for. “Look, I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” You yanked your hand away from his, suddenly angry at him. “Because you just sat there like a statue. You let them say all that, and you didn't even blink.”

“And what did you want me to do? Start a row in the middle of the library?”

“Oh, I don’t know—maybe defend me!” The words burst out, earning a sharp, hawk-like “Shh!” from Madam Pince.

You leaned in, dropping your voice to a fierce whisper. “Tell them they’re being cruel. Tell them to sod off! But you just sat there looking like you were enjoying the show.”

Jaemin didn't answer right away. He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking as he studied you with those dark, unreadable eyes.

“If I get too defensive, they’ll know something’s up,” he said eventually. “You heard Giselle, she's looking for a reaction. That’s what they’re all doing. They're looking for proof that we’re lying. The more I protest, the more suspicious they get.”

“So I’m just supposed to sit there and take it?” You felt a hot sting behind your eyes and hated yourself for it. “I have to let them slag me off and talk rubbish about my family, all to keep your precious cover story alive?”

“Just for a bit,” he insisted. “Once they’re convinced it’s real, they’ll back off. But right now, they’re testing us. They’re testing you. And if we want this to work, you have to pass.”

“I’m trying to pass the bloody test!” you hissed, your voice rising again.

“Trying, yeah.” He leaned forward, his shadow falling over your parchment. “But you’re not being very convincing, Y/N.”

Your face flushed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you always look uncomfortable.” He ran a hand through his hair, his composure finally fraying. “You look miserable, Y/N. Constantly. Like being near me is a form of torture.”

“Well, it isn’t exactly a holiday,” you shot back.

“I know this isn’t ideal,” he continued, ignoring the jab. “I know you didn't want this. But we made a deal, and if you keep acting like I’m a Dementor every time I come within a foot of you, no one is going to believe this.”

“So what? You want me to swoon? Hang off your arm like a mindless doll?”

“I want you to look like you can at least tolerate me,” he cut in, his tone sharpening. “I want you to stop flinching when I hold your hand. Lean into me instead of going rigid as a board. Smile, Y/N. A real one, not that grimace you do when people are watching.”

“That’s the best I can do.”

“Well, your best isn’t good enough.” He looked at the library door, then back at you. “Giselle asked me why you’re so tense all the time. I told her you were shy about public affection, but that excuse only works for so long.”

You stared at him, your chest tight with a cocktail of fury.

“Maybe you should’ve picked someone who actually wanted to be your girlfriend.”

“I picked you because I thought you were smart enough to pull this off, but if you can't... ” He trailed off, shaking his head. "If you can’t even manage to stay in the same room as me without looking like you’d rather be drowning in the lake, the whole thing falls apart.”

"So will you be satisfied if I start kissing the floor you walk on? " you asked bitterly.

“It’d be a start,” he said simply. “Look, I know they’re awful. But you need to try harder. Stop pulling away. Stop acting like my touch is burning you.”

“It is burning me,” you muttered. You didn't mean to say it out loud, and you immediately wished you could swallow the words back down.

Jaemin’s eyes widened slightly. “What?”

“Nothing.” You stood up abruptly, gathering your things with fumbling hands. “Forget it. I’ll try harder, alright? I’ll be more convincing. I’ll smile and lean in and act like I’m absolutely mad about you. Is that what you want?”

“Y/N, wait—”

“I’m going back to the common room.” You slung your bag over your shoulder, refusing to look at him. “I’ll see you at breakfast. I’ll be sure to put on a proper show.”

“That’s not what I—”

But you didn’t stay to hear the rest. You turned and walked away, your vision blurring slightly as you navigated between the towering bookshelves, Madam Pince's disapproving glare following you all the way to the exit.

Behind you, you heard Jaemin sigh, but he didn’t call after you.

Just as well. You needed to be anywhere but near him.

Expectations of a smooth public performance next morning were shattered the moment Jaemin actually appeared. You had braced yourself for the usual, the effortless slide onto the bench, the heavy weight of his arm claiming your space, and that charming attitude that suggested your library row had been nothing more than a minor blip.

Instead, the Jaemin who approached the table looked like he’d gone several rounds with a rogue Bludger. His tie was a shambles, hanging loose around his collar, and his hair was a chaotic nest of blonde strands as if he’d spent the early hours of the morning dragging his hands through it in frustration. He didn't sit, but lingered at the edge of the bench with a strange, jittery energy.

"Can we talk?"

The question was a mere breath under the noise of clattering plates and the morning owl post.

You looked back down at your porridge. "About what?"

"Yesterday." He sounded nervous, not the polished Pureblood prince, but a boy who was genuinely out of his depth. "Please?"

Jo delivered a sharp kick to your shin under the table. Why did she keep doing that?! You winced, the sting jolting you out of your stubborn trance. Against your better judgment, you found yourself nodding.

"Fine. Where?"

"Third floor. The corridor by the one-eyed witch statue." He checked his watch, his fingers drumming a frantic rhythm against the wood of the table. "Ten o'clock?"

"That’s oddly specific," you muttered, finally meeting his eyes.

"Just—trust me on this. Please?"

There was that word again. Please. It was a far cry from the boy who had told you your best wasn't good enough yesterday. And because you were apparently a glutton for punishment, you felt your resolve crumble.

"Ten o'clock," you agreed.

He didn't offer a smirk or a wink for the benefit of the watching Great Hall. He simply gave a tight nod and sat down, keeping a conspicuous gap between your shoulder and his.

Stone walls and guttering torches made the third floor just as drab as the rest of the castle. A few portraits dozed in their frames, and the statue of the one-eyed witch stood sentinel at the far end, her painted eyes seeming to follow your every move with an almost unsettling intensity.

Five minutes of waiting had already passed, which was roughly four minutes and fifty seconds longer than it took to start feeling like a total idiot.

Just as the urge to bolt back to the safety of the common room became overwhelming, the rhythmic scuff of boots echoed against the flagstones. Jaemin rounded the corner, his usual swagger replaced by a stiff gait. You drew a breath, ready to tell him exactly where he could shove this clandestine little meeting, but he hoisted a hand to silence you.

"Before you lay into me," he started, coming to a halt just out of arm’s reach, "I want to apologize. Properly. For yesterday."

The anger you’d been carefully stoking for the last twelve hours flickered and died, leaving you feeling strangely hollow. "Oh."

"I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right." He dragged a hand through his hair, a sign of genuine nerves that made him more like a tired teenager. "You’re right. This situation is mental. My friends are absolute vultures, and I’ve been asking you to stand in the middle of the pack without giving you a single bit of support."

"I mean... yeah." You leaned against the cold stone wall, trying to hide how much that small bit of validation actually mattered. "That has been the arrangement so far, hasn't it?"

"Well, it’s a rubbish arrangement." He stepped into your personal space, his eyes searching yours with an earnestness that felt far too real. "I want to make this bearable for you. But for that to happen, I think we need to... practice."

"Practice?"

"At being comfortable," he explained, as if he were simply suggesting a bit of extra Quidditch drills. "You said my touching burns. Not literally, I hope, but—" He gestured between the two of you. "There’s this tension. This massive wall between us. People can see it, Y/N. It’s written all over you."

"Right. So your grand plan is..."

"Exposure therapy," he said. "We need to get accustomed to one another. And we need to do it without an audience watching your every flinch."

A snort almost escaped you as you processed the sheer absurdity of the suggestion. It felt like a scene ripped straight from one of those tawdry novels Jo kept hidden in her trunk, the ones with titles like The Warlock’s Wicked Whim.

But beneath the embarrassment sat a cold, hard logic you couldn't ignore. Every time his skin brushed yours, your heart panicked. You went rigid, your breath hitched, and your pulse became a frantic drumbeat in your ears. If you could feel that visceral wrongness vibrating through your bones, then vipers like Giselle and Yuna could definitely tell too.

"And you want to do this here?" A wary glance down the drafty corridor followed, half-expecting a gaggle of students to peek around the corner, eager for a glimpse of the castle's most talked-about couple. "What if someone comes by?"

"They won't." Jaemin started walking again, gesturing for you to follow. "That’s the whole point of meeting on this floor."

Confusion was about to mount into another argument when he came to a sudden halt in front of a completely unremarkable stretch of stone wall. Without a word, he began to pace. Back and forth, back and forth, his brow furrowed in a look of intense concentration.

For a moment, you just watched him, convinced that he'd finally cracked under the pressure and that this whole fake relationship scheme had driven him round the bend. You were seconds away from suggesting a firm dose of Calming Draught from Madam Pomfrey when the masonry began to ripple.

Solid stone blurred and shimmered like the surface of the Black Lake under a midday sun. Then, with a low, tectonic grind, an ornate wooden door bled into existence.

Your mouth fell open. You'd heard of this, of course. Read about it in 'Hogwarts: A History'. But reading about something and seeing it happen right in front of your eyes were two very different things.

"The Room of Requirement," you breathed, awe temporarily overriding your general state of irritation.

"The Room of Requirement," Jaemin confirmed, and there was a note of satisfaction in his voice. "I figured if we're going to do this, we should do it somewhere we won't be interrupted."

"Unless you don't want to?" he asked, and there was a carefulness to the question, an unspoken offer of an out. "I know this is... I know it's a lot to ask. But I really think it'll help. I do."

You stared at the door, your mind whirling. This was insane. Completely, utterly, certifiably insane. Practicing feeling comfortable with Na Jaemin in a magical room that appeared out of thin air? This was your life now? This was what your Hogwarts experience had come to?

But what was the alternative? Continue on as you had been, flinching and grimacing your way through this charade until even the most gullible Hufflepuff could see right through you? Let Jaemin's awful friends pick and prod at you until you broke?

No. No, as much as it pained you to admit it, Jaemin was right. If you were going to make it through this with your dignity remotely intact, you had to stop being the weak link. You needed to become a better liar. 

And if that meant subjecting yourself to Merlin knows what kind of 'practice' in a secret magic room... well. So be it.

“I swear if this is some kind of prank…”

"It's not." He pushed open the door, warm, inviting light spilling out into the corridor. "I promise."

The moment you crossed the threshold, you felt a strange sensation wash over you. Like stepping into a warm bath after a long, cold day. The room was...not at all what you expected. It was smaller, cozier. There was a plush sofa against one wall, a few cushy armchairs arranged around a low coffee table. The lighting was soft, emanating from no discernible source, and the air smelled faintly of vanilla and old books. It felt safe, somehow. Comforting. Which only served to put you more on edge.

"So," you said, crossing your arms over your chest as the door swung shut behind you with a soft, final-sounding click. "You brought me here to practice. Practice what, exactly?"

Jaemin had the grace to look slightly abashed. "Intimacy."

"I'm sorry, what?”

"Not—not like that," he said quickly, and was that a hint of a flush on his cheeks? Surely not. Na Jaemin didn't get flustered. It must be a trick of the light. "I mean... being close.. and comfortable enough to casually touch each other. You know, the things couples do in public that you keep shying away from."

"You make it sound so simple," you muttered, feeling a blush rise to your own cheeks despite your best efforts. 

"It’s not that big of a deal." He gestured to the sofa. "Look, we're going to have to spend the next two months being physically affectionate in front of the entire school. And right now, every time I so much as brush against you, you look like you'd rather be facing a herd of centaurs. So we need to practice. To make it feel normal."

Normal. What a ludicrous concept. There was nothing normal about this. But you bit back the sharp retort on the tip of your tongue. You’d agreed to this madness, and backing out now would only make you look more pathetic.

"Right. So you want me to get used to you pawing at me."

"I do not paw—" He cut himself off, taking a visible breath to steady himself. "I want you to get used to me touching you in a completely respectful, non-pawing way.

You stared at him and he stared back. You could practically hear the seconds ticking by, feel the weight of the impasse settling over the room.

"Fine," you said at last, the word feeling like it was being dragged out of you with fish hooks. "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

His shoulders relaxed, the tension in his jaw easing just a fraction. "Just… come sit with me. We'll start slow."

He settled onto the sofa and patted the cushion beside him. You approached warily, lowering yourself onto the opposite end and putting as much distance between your bodies as physically possible. Jaemin looked at the three-foot chasm of empty space and raised an eyebrow.

"You're going to have to get closer than that."

"This is close."

"You’re barely sitting on the couch."

"Baby steps," you muttered.

"We don't have time for baby steps." But his voice was gentle, coaxing. "Come on. I don't bite."

That remains to be seen, you thought. But despite every instinct screaming at you to run, you scooted closer. Then a bit closer still. You stopped in the middle of the sofa, a foot of space still separating you, but closer than you'd ever voluntarily been to him outside of your mandated public displays.

"Better," Jaemin said, and the soft, approving lilt in his voice sent a traitorous flutter through your stomach. "Now, I'm going to put my arm around you. Like I do at meals. And I want you to try not to tense up. Okay?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice not to shake.

Slowly, broadcasting his movements like he was approaching a skittish animal, he lifted his arm, draping it across the back of the sofa. His hand came to rest on your shoulder, the weight of it startling in its warmth, its solidity.

Instantly, you felt your entire body go rigid, your muscles locking up like you'd been hit with a full body bind curse. Every nerve ending was suddenly alight, hyper-aware of the exact dimensions of his palm, the precise pressure of each individual finger.

"You’re doing it again," he murmured. His voice was much closer than you’d expected. "Tensing up."

"I know," you gritted out. "I’m trying."

"Here." His other hand hovered just shy of your arm, hesitant. "Just breathe. Focus on that."

Breathe. Right. You could manage that.

You sucked in a breath, held it for a count of three, and forced it out. You repeated the cycle until the iron bands of your muscles began to slacken, slowly adjusting to the foreign sensation of him.

"Good," Jaemin whispered. "See? Not so terrible."

"It’s weird," you countered. It was unsettling and entirely too much. "You’re weird. This whole thing is mental."

"Noted." There was a definite streak of amusement in his tone now. "But you aren't flinching. That’s progress."

He was right. The initial shock of the contact was fading, replaced by a strange sort of...not comfort, exactly. Awareness, maybe. You were intensely conscious of the weight of his arm, the warmth of his body seeping into yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed next to you.

The feeling wasn't the searing, blistering heat you'd stupidly mentioned yesterday in a moment of unthinking frustration. But it was a lot. Intimate in a way you weren't at all prepared for, in a way that made your heart thud traitorously against your rib cage.

"Okay," Jaemin said after the silence had stretched out just long enough to teeter on the edge of uncomfortable. "Next step. I'm going to pull you a bit closer. Like I do when we're walking to class."

"Do you really need to narrate every little thing?" You couldn't help the note of exasperation that crept into your voice.

"I'm trying not to spook you."

"I'm not a skittish woodland creature."

"Could've fooled me," he muttered, but there was no real bite to it.

Before you could formulate a properly scathing response, he drew you firmly into his side. Your instinct was to lock up again, but you fought it. This close, the scent of him was overwhelming—clean linen, and a subtle hint of broomstick polish.

It was disorienting. Overwhelming. But...not entirely unpleasant, if you were being honest with yourself. Which you absolutely were not going to be, because that way lay madness.

"Are you okay?" Jaemin asked, and his voice lacked his usual arrogance, sounding instead like he was actually concerned about your boundaries.

For a dizzying second, you wondered if there was more to him than the unflappable, silver-tongued Slytherin. Was this just as strange and unsettling for him? You pushed the thought away immediately. Thinking of Jaemin as a real person with real nerves was a one-way trip to jagged rocks and shark-infested waters. He was a means to an end. A necessary evil.

"It's fine," you said, and if your voice came out a little breathier than usual, a little less steady, well. That was nobody's business but your own. “Not terrible, I suppose."

"High praise, coming from you," he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice, could practically feel the curve of his lips where they brushed against your hair. 

You chose to ignore that, focusing instead on keeping your breathing steady and your heartbeat under control.

Time passed, seconds or minutes or hours, you couldn't quite tell. The room had narrowed down to the weight of Jaemin's arm around you, the heat of his body pressed against yours, the soft sounds of your breathing intermingling in the quiet room.

The whole thing was almost peaceful, provided you let yourself forget exactly who he was and why you were here.

“How much longer do we have to do this?” you asked eventually, when the silence and the sensation started to feel like too much.

Jaemin shrugged, the movement jostling you slightly. “Until it feels normal, I guess. Or at least not horribly awkward.”

You let out a long sigh. “We’re going to be here a while, then.”

He laughed, the sound warm and resonant in the small room. “Probably. But look on the bright side—at least the couch is comfortable, right?”

You made a noncommittal noise, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of an agreement.

“Just think,” he continued, a teasing lilt returning to his voice, “a few more of these sessions and we’ll be the most convincing couple Hogwarts has ever seen. We’ll put the real ones to shame.”

“Be still my beating heart,” you deadpanned. “What a glittering future.”

“We’ll practice the basics for now. Then we’ll work our way up.”

“Work our way up to what, exactly?” You regretted the question the moment it left your lips. His arm tightened slightly, and his voice took on a silkier quality.

“Well,” he said, “eventually, we’re going to have to practice kissing.”

You practically launched yourself off the cushions at that. You scrambled to the very edge of the sofa, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. The distance between you was back to a yawning three feet in a matter of seconds.

He’d mentioned kissing when he proposed this mad arrangement in the first place but you genuinely thought he’d been trying to ruffle you. The prospect of actually kissing Na Jaemin was so far outside your comfort zone it felt like another planet.

“Absolutely not!” you gasped, your eyes wide with genuine alarm. “Not happening. Not in this lifetime.”

Jaemin stared at you, his arm still draped over the empty space where your shoulder had been a moment ago. He looked startled by your sudden flight, but it only took a second for that lazy amusement to crawl back onto his face.

“It’s going to come up, Y/N,” he said, dropping his arm and leaning back comfortably, as if he hadn't just suggested something world-ending. “Couples kiss. Especially 'new' couples who are supposedly mad about each other. If the first time I kiss you is in front of the entire Great Hall and you look like you’re about to be sick, the game is up.”

“I get it,” you snapped, your face feeling like it was being held over a Bunsen burner. “I get it. But we’re not—I mean, we don’t need to do that. It’s way too much.”

“We don’t have to do it today,” he agreed, his voice surprisingly gentle as he watched you vibrate with nerves at the end of the sofa. “We’ll work up to it slowly. Baby steps, remember?”

“I hate this,” you mumbled, slowly sinking back into the upholstery, though you stayed firmly out of arm's reach.

“I know,” he said, his eyes tracking you with a look that was far too observant for your liking. “But you’re getting much better at pretending you don't.”

The witching hour, that eerie stretch of night when all respectable souls should be tucked safely in their beds, found you instead padding down the darkened corridors of Hogwarts, your dressing gown pulled tight around you and your wand tip illuminating the way. 

It was a terrible idea, really, wandering the castle at this hour. You were a prefect, for Merlin's sake. You knew the rules better than most. Out of bed after curfew, risking detention or worse, all for what? A craving for something sweet that couldn't wait until the civilized hours of morning?

But sleep had proven elusive, your mind refusing to quiet, insisting instead on replaying the events of the past week in excruciatingly vivid detail. The practice sessions with Jaemin in the Room of Requirement featured most prominently, of course. The steadily shrinking distance between your bodies, the way his touch was beginning to feel almost... familiar.

You were making progress. Which was precisely the problem.

So now, at an absolutely unreasonable hour, you found yourself seeking solace in the kitchens. If you were going to be awake anyway, you might as well have a biscuit to keep you company.

You reached the portrait of the fruit bowl, tucked away in a corridor no one ever noticed, and tickled the pear. It squirmed and giggled, as it always did, before transforming into a door handle.

The kitchens were a welcome oasis of warmth, the vaulted ceilings echoing with the industrious sounds of house-elves going about their nightly duties—kneading dough for the morning's bread, organizing the pantry, scrubbing the massive cauldrons until they shone. They looked up as you entered, surprise evident on their wrinkled little faces.

"Miss!" squeaked a particularly diminutive elf, hurrying over to you, her tea towel toga flapping about her knees. "Miss should be in bed! Is Miss hungry? Was something not to Miss's liking at dinner?"

"No, no," you assured her quickly, crouching down to her level with a smile. "Dinner was wonderful, as always. I just couldn't sleep and thought a little something sweet might help."

The elf's large eyes widened further, a delighted smile stretching her mouth. "Oh yes, yes! Dipsy can help! We has treacle tart left over from dinner, and chocolate biscuits, and Dipsy can bring fresh cream for Miss's tea—"

"Just a biscuit or two would be lovely," you said. "And maybe a bit of that apple tart, if there's any left? I don't want to make extra work for you."

"Is no work at all!" Dipsy insisted, already scurrying off toward the enormous cooling racks that lined one wall. "Is Dipsy's pleasure to serve! Miss sit, sit! Dipsy will bring tea!"

And so you found yourself perched on a stool at one of the long preparation tables, watching with a mix of amusement and awe as Dipsy and two other elves fluttered about, assembling a plate of biscuits and tart and a pot of fragrant, steaming tea.

"Thank you," you said sincerely as they presented you with your midnight feast. "This is exactly what I needed."

Dipsy beamed, her bat-like ears quivering with pleasure. "Miss is always so kind, so polite! Not like some students, so rude and demanding they is. But Miss is a good student, yes she is!"

You felt a pang at that, remembering all the times you'd seen your classmates treating the house-elves like mere servants. "You work so hard," you told her. "The least I can do is be polite."

The ancient elf in the tea towel toga shuffled up then, setting a small pot of jam next to your plate. "Special raspberry preserves," he croaked. "Made 'em myself. Good for what ails you, they is."

"That's very kind, thank you," you said, touched by the gesture.

You passed the next quarter hour in the warm bustle of the kitchens, savoring your illicit snack while the elves worked around you, peppering you with questions—did you need anything else, what did you think of the new recipe they'd tried at lunch, would you like to take some extra tarts back to your dormitory? It was soothing, the cheerful chatter and clatter, so different from the brooding silence of your room.

By the time you'd drained your teacup and consumed a frankly inadvisable number of biscuits, you were feeling considerably more yourself.

"Thank you," you said again as you rose to leave. "I feel much better."

"Miss is welcome anytime!" Dipsy assured you earnestly. "Dipsy is always here if Miss needs a little pick-me-up!"

You left with a smile and a promise to visit again, slipping back out into the dark and drafty corridor.

It was deserted, as you'd expected. Or so you thought, until a voice emerged from the shadows some twenty feet ahead, stopping you in your tracks.

"Out for a midnight stroll?"

You nearly leapt out of your skin, your wand raised defensively before you'd even fully registered the words. But then a familiar figure stepped into a pool of torchlight, and your racing heart stuttered for an entirely different reason.

Jaemin. Even in the middle of the bloody night, he managed to look put together, his school robes immaculate and his prefect badge gleaming. His hands were tucked casually in his pockets, and there was a glint in his eye that might have been amusement.

"Merlin's beard, Jaemin," you hissed, lowering your wand. "Are you trying to get hexed? You can't just lurk in the dark like some sort of—villain!"

"I'm not lurking, I'm patrolling," he countered. "It's my job to accost students out of bed after hours. Which, need I remind you, you currently are."

"I’m a prefect too," you shot back, though you were painfully aware that your current attire—dressing gown, fluffy slippers, and basically a bird's next on your head—didn’t exactly command authority.

"A prefect who's very much off duty," Jaemin pointed out, his eyes sweeping over you in a way that made you acutely conscious of your bare legs and messy hair. "And wandering the castle at two in the morning, no less."

You crossed your arms, trying to salvage some shred of dignity. "I couldn't sleep. Not that it's any of your business, but if you must know, I was hungry. I went to the kitchens."

"The kitchens," he repeated slowly.

"Yes, the kitchens. You're familiar with the concept, I assume? Big room, lots of elves, food comes from there?"

Jaemin, looking awfully like he was trying not to smile, said again, "You went to the kitchens. At two a.m. In your dressing gown."

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt a little. "Yes, that's what I just said. Is there an echo here I'm not aware of?"

"Y/n y/l/n, prefect and notorious rule-follower, snuck out of bed and all the way down to the kitchens in the dead of night...for a biscuit?"

"What, like you've never had a late-night snack craving?"

"No, I can't say I have." He was definitely fighting a smile now. "I'm just surprised. I didn't take you for the type."

"Yes, well, there's a lot you don't know about me," you muttered, brushing past him to continue your trek back to Gryffindor tower. To your great chagrin, Jaemin fell into step beside you, long legs eating up the distance effortlessly.

"And here I was thinking I had you all figured out... Now I come to find you have a dark side. Late-night wanderings, clandestine trips to the kitchen...so scandalous. Merlin only knows what other secrets you're hiding behind that prim prefect exterior."

"Oh, yes," you agreed dryly. "I'm a woman of endless mysteries. Careful, Na, or I'll file you away in my mental 'too curious for his own good' cabinet with all my other deep, dark secrets."

It was possibly the most ridiculous thing you'd ever said, made all the more absurd by the fact that you were padding through the halls in slippers, being relentlessly followed by the boy you were supposed to be pretending to date. Who was going to write your biography one day? They'd have a field day with this.

"So why are you lurking about in the dark, anyway?" you asked, feeling the need to shift focus away from your own nocturnal misadventures. "Isn't this usually when you abscond to the grounds to catch hapless rule-breakers?"

"Wasn't in the mood," Jaemin said with a shrug. "Thought I'd switch it up tonight. Catch hapless biscuit thieves instead."

You shot him a withering look. "I'm not a thief. The elves gave me those biscuits fair and square. And anyway, you're one to talk about avoiding the grounds. What, did our last excursion awaken a sudden fear of the dark?"

"Hardly." A pause. "Just wasn't the same without my favorite patrol partner, I suppose."

Your steps faltered a bit at that, and you hoped desperately that the darkness was enough to hide the flush you could feel creeping up your neck. Favorite patrol partner. He had to be mocking you. Nevermind that he'd said it almost...softly. Sincerely, even. A trick of the acoustics in this drafty old castle, no doubt.

“I’m flattered,” you managed, arranging your face into an expression of arch disdain. "Though I think we both know I'm likely the only patrol partner you’ve terrorized on the grounds. Bit of a low bar, as far as favoritism goes."

“I'm grading on a curve," Jaemin said with a smirk. "Bumping you to the head of a class of one."

"How magnanimous of you."

"I'm choosing to take that as a compliment."

A slow shake of the head was the only response you could muster. Between the amusement and the sheer exasperation, it was hard to keep track of your own feelings. This boy. This ridiculous, irritating, unfairly handsome boy. How had your life come to revolve around verbally sparring with him in darkened hallways in the middle of the night?

You'd reached the stairs leading up toward Gryffindor Tower, and you paused at the base, turning to face Jaemin. He was looking at you intently, as if he wanted to say something.

"You've been better this week," he said abruptly.

You blinked, caught off guard by the change in topic. "What?"

"At pretending," he clarified. "You don't flinch anymore when I touch you. That thing you did yesterday, with your hand on my chest when you were laughing at Jo's joke - that was good. Natural."

Heat crept up your neck at the memory. You'd surprised yourself with that gesture, the easy intimacy of it. It had just...happened. No thought, no awkwardness. For a moment, it had felt real.

"Oh," you said eloquently. "Um. Thanks?"

Jaemin nodded. "I can tell the practice is helping. People are buying it. Even Giselle's backed off a bit."

"Only a bit," you muttered. Jaemin's prickly best friend had been keeping a hawkish eye on you. She'd cornered you just yesterday, demanding to know Jaemin's favorite Quidditch team. You'd guessed the Falmouth Falcons, only to be informed with a triumphant sneer that he was actually a die-hard Montrose Magpies supporter, had been since childhood, and really, what kind of girlfriend doesn't know that?

"She's protective," Jaemin said, as if reading your thoughts. "But she's coming around. Slowly."

"Hooray for small mercies," you said dryly.

Jaemin's lips twitched. "Anyway, I didn't just track you down to compliment your acting skills."

"So why did you track me down, then?" You folded your arms, trying to ignore the way your pulse had picked up at his words. "Other than to save me from death by biscuit overindulgence, of course."

"Next weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend," he said.

You nodded slowly. "I'm aware."

"It's also Valentine's Day."

"Oh." You blinked. "Right." Somehow, in the midst of all the fake dating drama and NEWTs prep, you'd completely forgotten about the most romantic day of the year. "That's...a thing."

"A thing we should probably do together," Jaemin said. "I mean, it would look weird if we didn't, wouldn't it? The whole school will be there, all the couples will be out in force..."

Suddenly your hands felt clammy. He was right, of course. If you were really dating, you'd be all over each other on Valentine's Day. Holding hands, sharing butterbeer, probably snogging in some corner of Madam Puddifoot's like every other disgustingly happy couple.

But you weren't really dating. And the thought of upping the ante on this charade you were already barely keeping up with...it made you feel a bit sick.

Jaemin must have seen some of this on your face, because he quickly added, "We don't have to make a big deal of it. Just walk around together, maybe get lunch at the Three Broomsticks. I could buy you some chocolate from Honeydukes, let people see me being a good boyfriend. That's all."

"Right," you said faintly. "Sounds...great."

He studied you for a moment. "I mean, if you had other plans, or if you think it's too much—"

"No," you said, more firmly than you felt. "No, you're right. We should go together. For appearances' sake, if nothing else."

His eyes flickered at your words, a brief shadow passing over them before he straightened up. "Great," he said briskly. "It's a date then."

You took a step back, suddenly desperate for the safety of your dormitory. "I should go. It’s late."

Jaemin nodded. "Get some rest, Y/N. I’ll see you in Potions."

"Can't wait." You started up the stairs, but paused at the landing to look back. "Goodnight, Jaemin."

"Goodnight." He waited a beat, his voice dropping to a low, melodic murmur. "Sweet dreams, baby."

You huffed a laugh to hide your skyrocketing pulse and hurried up the stairs, feeling his gaze on your back until you turned the corner.

Valentine’s Day with Jaemin. It was just another scene in the play. You could handle it.

Right?

But as you climbed the stairs to your bed, you had the sinking feeling that 'sweet' dreams were the last thing you were going to get.

The Hogsmeade trip came around quicker than expected. It had barely stopped raining for weeks, but on Saturday the sun was a weak golden disk behind a scrim of clouds, and every student with even a shred of romantic aspiration was queued up to be let out the gates, Gryffindor and Slytherin and the rest all jostling close, careful to keep up appearances for whatever audience they believed themselves to have. 

You, on the other hand, spent the first half of the walk pretending that the clumps of snow along the path were of great zoological interest, then the next half pretending you couldn’t feel Jaemin’s hand cradling your elbow, like you were some frail Victorian damsel and the uneven ground posed a mortal peril.

 “This is a bit much, isn’t it?” you muttered, as you reached the crest of the hill and saw the town below. 

Every shop window had been transformed into a shrine for Valentine’s Day: Sugar quaffles in the shape of anatomically correct hearts, boxes of chocolates spelled to whisper eternal devotion when opened, bargain bouquets of roses that swatted at you if you tried to walk by without paying them a compliment. Even the cobblestone streets seemed to have been scrubbed up for the occasion, each puddle reflecting a film of pink and red banners strung overhead.

Jaemin grinned at your side, unbothered by the spectacle. “You’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” you insisted, though you eyed the brightly colored display tray warily. “I just don’t want to accidentally eat one of those chocolates that makes you recite poetry. Last time Jo had one, she spoke in haikus for three hours. It was a nightmare.”

“That sounds amazing, actually,” Jaemin said, a devilish glint in his eye. He veered off the main path, his long coat swishing around his ankles as he approached the sugar-dusted worker hawking the tray. “Let’s see if we get Lord Byron or... Byron-but-make-it-sexy.”

“Those are the same thing, Jaemin.”

He snagged two samples before you could protest, pressing a heart-shaped truffle into your gloved palm. The chocolate was dark, dusted with shimmering pink edible glitter. “Go on. What’s the worst that could happen? A little rhyming couplet never killed anyone.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smell of rich cocoa was overpowering your common sense. You took a tentative bite.

The chocolate was velvety, melting instantly over your tongue with notes of dark cherry and espresso. For a second, you thought you were safe. Then, a strange warmth bloomed in your diaphragm. It wasn't the heat of the candy, but more like a physical compulsion, like a marionette string tugging at your vocal cords.

Your lips parted against your will. You tried to say ‘It’s good,’ but your voice, suddenly projecting with a nasal, theatrical vibrato that echoed off the cobblestones, intoned:

“Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove!”

Jaemin doubled over, nearly dropping his own sweet, his laughter bright and loud in the crisp air. “Oh, brilliant! Shakespeare it is! Give it some more feeling, come on!”

“Shut up!” you tried to hiss, but the magic ignored your intent completely. Instead, you threw a dramatic hand over your heart, your eyes fluttering shut as you bellowed, “O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken!”

You slapped a hand over your mouth, mortified, as a group of Ravenclaws walked by, giggling. The spell finally sputtered out, leaving you breathless and flushed.

“I hate you,” you mumbled into your palm, though the lingering taste of cherry was admittedly delicious. You looked up at him, realizing something didn’t add up. “Wait. How do you even know that was Shakespeare? Or who Lord Byron is?”

Jaemin finally straightened up, wiping a tear of mirth from the corner of his eye. He popped his own truffle into his mouth, looking entirely unbothered.

“We have a library at the Manor that rivals the one at Hogwarts,” he said casually, chewing with a thoughtful expression. “My parents… well, they’re traditionalists, obviously. But my mother has always insisted that a true wizarding education is incomplete without understanding the ‘arts of the common man.’”

He swallowed, and for a second, his eyes went wide. You braced yourself for a poem, but he just cleared his throat and smirked. A dud candy. Typical luck.

“She thinks Muggles are tragically fascinating,” he continued, offering you his arm. “She insisted I read the classics. ‘If you are to rule the world, son, or simply live in it, you must understand how the other half feels.’ Or something like that.”

You stared at him in slight awe. You had never really considered that wizards from old, sacred twenty-eight families cared much about the Muggle world, other than to look down on it. As a half-blood who spent most of your childhood navigating the regular world and reading paperbacks, you assumed Jaemin’s world was entirely insulated.

“I’m just glad they’re using good material this year,” he finished, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Sonnet 116? ‘It is the star to every wandering bark’? Very romantic choice, Y/N. Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”

You tried to glare at him, to maintain your annoyance at being made a public spectacle, but his smile was so wide, so full of genuine delight, that your irritation evaporated like breath on glass.

“I’m telling you that you’re paying for these sweets,” you said, linking your arm through his.

“Fair enough,” he hummed. “Where to next?

Before you could answer, a shrill voice cut through the chatter of the crowd. "Jaemin! Yoo-hoo, over here!"

You turned to see Yuna Bae waving at you from the doorway of Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. She was resplendent in robes of pale pink, her dark hair arranged in perfect curls. Beside her, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, was a Ravenclaw you recognized from your Charms class. Taehyun, you thought his name was.

Jaemin's grip on your arm tightened imperceptibly. "Yuna," he said, his smile never wavering. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Oh, you know me," Yuna trilled, her eyes raking over you dismissively. "I never miss a Hogsmeade weekend. Taehyun was just treating me to tea. Why don't you join us? I'm sure we could squeeze you in."

The way she said that made it clear she was referring solely to Jaemin. You might as well have been a Flobberworm for all the attention she gave you.

“Y/N and I were just heading to Tomes and Scrolls. She’s been telling me about the new research into the Goblin Wars that just arrived and you know I can never resist a good history tome.”

Well, that was a blatant lie. You’d mentioned the book in passing a week ago, but Jaemin would rather drink Bubotuber pus than read a dry history text. Still, you appreciated the save. Yuna’s smile dimmed a fraction, her eyes flicking to the modest storefront of the bookstore as if it were a contagious ward at St. Mungo’s.

“Is this what you’re prioritizing now, Jaemin? This… little excursion into the mundane?”

Her eyes raked over your clothes down to your scuffed shoes. “I’m simply fascinated, Jawm. Your family has spent generations cultivating a certain standard, and you're playing the role of the benevolent saint. Taking pity on the less fortunate is a fine hobby, but surely you’re bored of the charity work by now?”

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. You started to speak, but Jaemin’s voice cut through first.

“Yuna.” The word was a warning, low and dangerous. “Watch yourself.”

“I’m being perfectly transparent,” she snapped, her feline eyes flashing. “It’s embarrassing, Jaemin. People are laughing. They’re wondering how long this little ‘experiment’ has to last before you regain your senses and return to your own kind. You’re a Na. Act like it.”

“I am a Na,” Jaemin said flatly, his arm sliding from your elbow to wrap firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against his side. “And Y/N is my girlfriend. She isn't an experiment, and she isn't someone you get to talk down to. If you can’t show her the respect she’s earned, then you and I have nothing left to discuss.”

Yuna’s jaw tightened, her composure finally cracking into a mask of pure venom. “Earned? She’s a nameless Gryffindor with nothing to her name but a few decent marks and a tragic wardrobe. Don’t think for a second this won't reach your father, Jaemin. He won't be as ‘charmed’ by your rebellion as you are.”

“Send the owl tonight if you like,” Jaemin countered, his voice steady. “Tell him I’m busy.”

Yuna’s eyes flicked to you one last time. “Enjoy your biscuits while you can, darling. The higher you climb, the harder the fall.”

You simply smiled, though your chest was tight with fury.

"Oh, I’ll keep that in mind. Do enjoy your tea, Yuna. I hear the service is wonderfully… swift today.”

As she turned on her heel to sweep into the tea shop, you kept your hands tucked inside your coat pockets, your fingers curling around the smooth wood of your wand. With a sharp, silent flick of your wrist and a jagged thought of Ventus, you sent a precise jinx whistling through the air.

The effect was instantaneous.

Just as Yuna reached for the heavy brass handle of the shop door, an invisible, violent gust of wind caught the hem of her pristine pink robes. They billowed up like a startled peacock’s tail, tangling around her head and blinding her just as she stepped forward.

Thwack.

She walked straight into the doorframe with a dull thud. Her scream of outrage was muffled by her own silk skirts, and as she scrambled to untangle herself, her designer boots skidded on a patch of black ice you’d surreptitiously greased with a bit of Glacius. She performed a frantic, uncoordinated flailing dance that sent her expensive handbag flying into a nearby slush pile.

Taehyun made a strangled noise that was either a cough or a repressed sob of laughter.

Jaemin stood perfectly still beside you, watching as a disheveled Yuna finally managed to shove her way inside the shop, her perfect curls now looking like a bird's nest and her dignity in tatters. He slowly turned his head to look at you, his eyes wide delight.

"Did you just…?"

"The wind in the Highlands is so unpredictable this time of year," you said, keeping your gaze fixed on the shop window as Yuna frantically tried to wipe slush off her bag. "It’s a real hazard for those who aren't used to the climate."

"You're terrifying," Jaemin whispered, a grin breaking across his face. Absolutely terrifying. I love it."

"I told you," you said, finally meeting his gaze with a defiant spark in your eyes. "I'm a woman of endless mysteries. And I really, really hate being called a charity case."

"Fair point," he laughed, steering you away before she could recover enough to look back. "Come on, Shakespeare. Let's check out the books."

Tomes and Scrolls was blessedly quiet, the heavy wooden door acting as a silencer against the bustle of the High Street. You inhaled deeply, loving the smell of aged parchment, beeswax, and the faint, ozone-like spark of old magic trapped in ink. This was your happy place.

You moved instinctively toward the back, trailing your fingers along the spines. Some books hummed under your touch; others, like the Compendium of Common Curses, seemed to shy away.

“There,” you whispered, spotting a thick, midnight-blue spine with silver embossing The Iron Quill: Unfiltered Testimonies of the 1612 Rebellions.

You pulled it from the shelf, cradling it like it was made of glass. “I’ve been waiting for this for months, Jaemin. It’s based on the personal journals of Ug the Unreliable that were found in a sealed vault in Gringotts last summer.”

You opened it to a random page, your eyes lighting up. “Look at the diagrams! Everyone thinks the rebellion started because of the wand-ban, but these letters suggest a secret trade embargo on silver-threaded lace. It could completely rewrite the seventh-year curriculum. If the economic tension preceded the legislative one, it changes the entire motive of the Goblin liaisons!”

You turned a page, your voice gaining speed and volume as the academic thrill took over. “And look at the footnotes! There’s a cross-reference to The Tales of Beedle the Bard that suggests the ‘Warlock’s Hairy Heart’ was actually a coded political allegory for the Minister of Magic at the time. It’s brilliant. It’s... it's...”

You broke off, suddenly aware of the silence. Jaemin wasn't looking at the book. He was leaning against the mahogany shelf, watching you with with interest.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, the heat rushing to your cheeks. You started to close the book. “I’m boring you to death, aren't I? You probably want to go look at the Quidditch supplies or–”

“No,” Jaemin said softly. He stepped closer and reached out, not to take the book, but to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Not at all. I like seeing you like this. Passionate. A little bit nerdy. It’s... it's really cute, Y/N.”

You froze, the heavy tome suddenly feeling very light compared to the way your heart was thudding against your ribs. You looked down, pretending to be intensely interested in a footnote about goblin-wrought armor, trying to ignore the way his thumb lingered near your temple.

“It’s just history,” you whispered, though your pulse was racing fast enough to win a broom race.

“But you love it,” he countered, his voice dropping an octave. “And that’s why I like listening.”

You didn’t quite know what to say to that so you busied yourself with the book, pretending to be engrossed in the table of contents, trying to ignore the way your pulse was racing.

It was just an act, you reminded yourself. A show for the onlookers. Jaemin was a good actor, that was all. There was no real feeling behind his words or his looks.

You lingered by the history section for a moment longer before a small, unassuming sign caught your eye toward the very back of the shop, nestled under a low, sloping ceiling: "Non-Magical Curiosities & Literature."

“Wait,” you said walking towards it. “I didn’t know they kept a Muggle section here.”

Jaemin followed as you navigated the narrowing aisles. This corner of the shop was more cramped, the books bound in plain cloth or faded dust jackets rather than dragon-hide or shimmering silk.

You scanned the titles until your eyes snagged on a familiar, battered spine. You pulled out a well-loved copy of Wuthering Heights.

“Since you’re so well-versed in Byron and Shakespeare,” you said, holding the book out so he could see the cover, “did your mother ever make you read the Brontës?”

Jaemin took the book, his long fingers tracing the silhouette of the moors on the cover. “I don’t think this one made the library list. Is it another tragedy?”

“The best kind of tragedy,” you sighed as you leaned back against the shelf. “It’s about a love so intense it’s practically a curse. Heathcliff and Cathy... they’re terrible for each other, really. They’re vengeful and cruel, but they’re also part of the same soul. There’s this one line—” you paused, closing your eyes for a second to recall the words that had lived in your head since you were twelve. “‘I am Heathcliff. He’s always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.’”

When you opened your eyes, Jaemin was staring at you with an intensity that made the air in the cramped corner feel suddenly very thin. The playful smirk was gone, replaced by something much more sincere.

“That’s a bit more intense than a Honeydukes poem,” he murmured, his thumb brushing the edge of the pages.

“Muggles don’t have magic to fix their problems,” you explained, feeling a rush of that deep-seated passion again. “They don’t have Amortentia to force a feeling or Cheering Charms to dull a heartbreak. They just have words. They have to build these massive, sweeping worlds of emotion just to explain how it feels to be alive. I think… I think sometimes that’s more powerful than any spell we’re taught.”

Jaemin looked from the book back to you, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You talk about them like they’re the ones with the real power.”

“In a way, they are,” you whispered.

He handed the book back to you, but as your fingers met on the cover, he didn't pull away. “Well, if it’s that good, I suppose I should read it. But only if you promise to highlight the best parts for me. I want to see the world the way you see it.”

His words caught you off guard. You looked down at your joined hands, the scent of old paper and Jaemin’s expensive, woody cologne swirling around you.

“I can do that,” you promised softly.

The afternoon bled away as you drifted from one storefront to the next. It was…nice. More than nice, actually. Despite yourself, you found yourself relaxing and enjoying the banter.

Despite the frantic warnings screaming in the back of your mind, you found the armor around your heart beginning to flake away. You were relaxing, leaning into the sharp cadence of his banter and the way his shoulder occasionally brushed yours

As the sun began to dip towards the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of pink and gold, Jaemin suggested one last stop.

“Three Broomsticks?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a bit cliché?”

Jaemin shrugged, a smile playing about his lips. “It’s tradition, isn’t it? Can’t come to Hogsmeade and not have a Butterbeer.”

He had a point. The warmth of the pub sounded inviting after the chill of the February air. “Lead on, then.”

The place was packed to the brim with students crowding every table, their cheeks flushed from the cold and the Butterbeer. You wove your way through the throng, Jaemin’s hand at the small of your back.

“Y/N! Jaemin! Over here!”

You turned to see Jo waving at you from a table in the back. Beside her, was a handsome boy you vaguely recognized as a seventh year Hufflepuff. Won-something? 

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” Jo said as you approached, her eyes bright. “Y/N, this is Wonbin. Wonbin, this is my best friend, Y/N. And her boyfriend, Jaemin.”

Wonbin smiled at you. “Nice to finally meet you, Y/N. Jo’s told me a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” you said, sliding into the seat across from them. Jaemin settled beside you, his thigh pressing against yours under the table.

“Oh, definitely,” Wonbin said, grinning. “Though she did mention something about an incident with a Niffler and a bottle of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion…”

You groaned, shooting Jo a look. “That was one time! And it wasn’t my fault the Niffler got loose, I maintain that to this day.”

Jo laughed, leaning into Wonbin’s side. They looked so comfortable together, so at ease.

Not for the first time since you arrived at Hogsmeade and finding yourself surrounded by dozens of loving couples, you felt a pang of something that might have been envy. What must it be like, to have that? To not have to question every look, every touch, every flutter of your heart?

You glanced at Jaemin, only to find him already looking at you. His eyes were the color of dark mahogany in the firelight.

If this were a real date, he would lean in. If you were a real girlfriend, you would let him.

The thought of his lips on yours, not as a tactical maneuver to thwart Yuna, but as an answer to the restless, poetic ache that had started in the bookstore, sent a shiver through you that was violent in its intensity. You wondered if his mouth would taste like the dark chocolate he’d eaten earlier, or the butterbear he was having now.

Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs, a drumbeat of "what if" that threatened to drown out your common sense. You looked away quickly, grabbing your Butterbeer and taking a long swig to hide the sudden heat in your cheeks.

The conversation kept flowing around you, but you found it hard to concentrate. Everywhere you looked, couples were leaning into each other, hands entwined, heads bent close. All you could hear around you was the sound of laughter and the soft smack of lips meeting in chaste kisses.

Suddenly, your skin itched with a restless sort of energy. You were hyperaware of Jaemin beside you, the solid warmth of him, his hand on yours on the table.

This was supposed to be a date. A fake date, yes, but a date nonetheless. And what did couples do on dates?

They kissed.

The thought was terrifying and… exciting. Kissing Jaemin, how would that feel? Putting your mouth on his mouth in front of all these people.

“Y/N?” Jaemin’s voice was barely audible over the din, but it vibrated through your very bones. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear, his scent of cedar and winter air enveloping you. “You’ve gone very quiet. Where did you go?”

You took another gulp of Butterbeer, trying to drown the sudden dryness in your throat. There was no need to get so worked up about it, really. It was all part of the act. Just one more scene to play, one more line to deliver.

You could do this.

Setting your tankard down with a thunk, you turned to Jaemin, determination surging through you. His eyes widened slightly as you leaned in, your hand coming up to rest on his chest.

“Y/N,” he said carefully. “What are you doing?”

“Improvising,” you murmured, and kissed him.

For a moment, he was utterly still beneath your lips. Then, just as you were about to pull away feeling completely humiliated, he came to life, his hand cupping your cheek, his mouth slanting over yours.

It was…Merlin. It was everything. His lips were soft and warm but still demanding, the scrape of his calluses against your skin sending goosebumps down your arms. You melted into him, your fingers curling into the soft wool of his sweater, anchoring yourself lest you float away entirely.

Someone wolf-whistled, probably Jo, and you jerked back to reality, breaking the kiss with a gasp. Jaemin looked as dazed as you felt, his eyes dark, his lips kissed-red.

“Well,” he said, his voice rough. “That was…something.”

“Um… yeah,” you said weakly, trying to catch your breath. “Gotta be convincing, right?”

Jaemin’s pupils were more dilated than before. “Right,” he said. “Of course.”

He turned back to his drink, and you did the same, trying to ignore the way your lips were tingling, the way your heart was doing a complicated tap-dance against your ribs.

That wasn't real, you reminded yourself as you gulped down the rest of your Butterbeer, the alcohol doing little to steady your nerves. None of it was real.

Jo was grinning at you across the table, her eyes knowing. You glared at her, silently daring her to say something. Wisely, she didn’t, but her smile spoke volumes.

As the evening wore on and the empty tankards accumulated, you found your tongue loosening, your inhibitions lowering. The pub seemed overly warm, the laughter too loud, the press of bodies too close. You needed air, needed space. You needed…

“I need to pee,” you announced loudly, lurching to your feet. The room swayed around you, and you grabbed the edge of the table to steady yourself. “I’ll be…I’ll be back.”

You wove your way through the crowd, ignoring Jo’s concerned call of your name and the way Jaemin slightly rose from his seat, his hand outstretched as if to stop you.

You didn’t need his help or anyone’s help. You were fine. You were absolutely, totally fine.

Outside, the night air was a blessed slap of cold. You took in great lungfuls of it. Merlin’s beard, how much had you had to drink? The empty tankards swam before your eyes in a hazy blur. Three? Four? More? It was hard to keep track when the Butterbeer had been so sweet and the pub so warm and Jaemin’s lips so soft against yours…

Oh no. Oh no no no. You’d actually kissed him, right there in front of everyone. What were you thinking?

Well, it didn’t matter now. What mattered was getting away, finding a quiet place where you could think. Somewhere without Jaemin’s eyes on you.

You picked a direction at random and started walking with unsteady steps. The high street was nearly deserted now, the lovebirds gone home to their castles and their common rooms and their cozy little romances.

Leaving you alone with your thoughts and your too-fast heartbeat and the sinking realization that you were, perhaps, a bit drunker than you’d initially thought.

“Y/N!”

You closed your eyes briefly, both thrilled and terrified by the sound of his voice.

“I’m fiiiiine,” you slurred without turning around. “I just need a minute.”

Jaemin caught up to you in two long strides, his face tight with concern as he reached out to steady your swaying frame. "You're completely blasted. Please, just stand still for a second before you fall into a ditch."

"I am not blasted," you informed him with great dignity, though you tripped over your own feet and ended up slumped against his chest. You looked up at him, your eyes unfocused but swimming with a sudden honesty. "You're the one who’s blasted— Blasted with... with your perfect hair and your Byron talk."

“Let’s just get you back first, okay?”

“I can get there by myself, thank you very much.” You slurred, starting to walk in the opposite direction of the castle.

“I’m sure you can. But I'd rather help you get there in one piece.” He said, sliding his arm around your waist and gently veering you in the right direction.

You tried to pull away, a whine building in your throat. “Don’t wanna. M’having fun.”

“I think you’ve had quite enough fun for one night,” he replied, his voice dripping with that dry, aristocratic patience that made you want to kick his shins.

“Are you mad at me…” You said softly after a second. “Because of the kiss? I—I didn’t mean—”

Your eyes smarted. Tears, sudden and hot, pooled and fell freely. You felt mortified and ridiculous and very impervious at once. The laugh you tried to force came out more like a sob.

“M’sorry,” you hiccuped. “What was I thinking? I’m awful.”

He stopped walking and turned to face you. For a moment, he was quietly furious and perhaps even a little bewildered, which made him look achingly human.

“Don’t say that,” he breathed. He did not sound like someone who believed in platitudes. “You’re not awful. You’re just tired and you’ve had too much to drink.”

“M’drunk, not dumb. I know I shouldn’t have kissed you. Jus’ got…got lost in the moment.”

“Let’s just go back to the castle first” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “We can talk about this tomorrow, when you’re sober.”

You sniffled weakly, wiped at your face with the back of your hand, and let him shepherd you back toward the castle.

By the time you reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, you were barely keeping your eyes open, your body growing heavier with each step.

“Password?” the Fat Lady trilled, eyeing Jaemin suspiciously.

You tried to form the word ‘Flibbertigibbet,’ but your tongue felt like a thick piece of wet paper and it came out as something closer to "Flub-a-dub". The Fat Lady, mercifully, just sighed and allowed you access anyway.

“I’ll help you,” Jaemin murmured, his arm tightening around your waist to keep you upright as the portrait swung open.

But as he made to step over the threshold, you planted a hand firmly on his chest.

“You can’t come in,” you said, shaking your head slow and wide.

He raised an elegant eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“Cause you’re a snake,” you told him seriously. “And the Fat Lady… She doesn’t like snakes. Nope! No snakes ‘llowed in the lion house. S’the rules.”

You dissolved into giggles, finding this logic unbearably funny. The look on Jaemin’s face only made you laugh harder, a snorting, hiccupping thing that had you clutching at the portrait frame for support.

“Right. God forbid I upset the natural order,” he said, a reluctant, lopsided smile finally tugging at his lips.

He reached out, gently tucking a messy strand of hair behind your ear. “I think that’s quite enough out of you. Go on, get to bed.”

You sketched a salute, barely avoiding smacking yourself in the face. “Aye aye, cap’n,”

And with that, you let the portrait swing shut, cutting off the sound of Jaemin’s laughter. You made your way up to your dormitory on unsteady legs, collapsing into bed fully clothed.

As sleep claimed you, dragging you down into dreamless oblivion, one last thought chased itself around your fuzzy brain.

No snakes in the lion’s den. Not even pretty ones with soft lips and warm hands.

It was a good rule, you decided muzzily. A very good rule indeed.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

his eyes drift back to you anyway, watching as you throw your head back in laughter at something giselle said, your arm twisted around somi’s.

you’re a bit tipsy now, the alcohol making your movements loose and joyful, cheeks flushed as you sway gently to the beat. it’s why you don't really notice wonbin's advances — you're just having fun with your girls and currently playing matchmaker with bunny and her long time crush, sungchan.

the riize boys settle in deeper, sungchan and bunny inching closer, while shotaro pulls somi into a quick twirl that has her squealing. wonbin, though, keeps his focus on you, edging closer with that flirty smile of his. he comments on the song playing, his hand brushing your elbow and you nod along absently, more caught up in giselle’s exaggerated retelling of a disastrous date than anything else.

to you, it’s all harmless chatter. your relationship with jaemin is solid, happy, and secure — no room for wandering thoughts about anyone else here.

from across the room though, jaemin watches it all. his initial amusement fading into something sharper as wonbin doesn’t let up. the guy’s laugh rings out too loud, his fingers grazing your lower back when the crowd shifts, his gaze lingering a little too long.

jaemin’s jaw sets, an unfamiliar coil tightening in his gut. he’s never been a jealous person. but at this moment he’s learning that maybe the green monster lives inside him too.

he’s pissed that wonbin is even trying with you.

1) everyone in this damn university knew you were his. if it wasn’t for the public confession he shared through his radio show — then the amount of times he’s kissed you in public, held your hand, pulled you to his side, should have been enough.

2) what the hell happened to bro code?

every second his “bro” stays planted next to you makes something in jaemin’s chest tighten another notch. the audacity to even breathe in your direction is astounding.

his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, gaze darkening as he watches the way you tilt your head when you listen, the way you smile politely — and suddenly he’s hyperaware of how easy it would be for someone else to misunderstand that smile.

how easy it would be to want more.

his fingers curl tight around his red cup.

it’s irrational. he knows it is. you’ve never given him a reason to feel jealousy. if anything, you’ve always been so openly his that it makes his chest ache.

and then you catch his eye through the wave of bodies, flashing him that bright, sweet smile — the one that always hits him right in the chest, making his pulse kick up.

god, he loves that smile. it's his.

before he can move, you're the one closing the distance, weaving through the crowd with determination, your hand reaching for him as you pull him toward you, “baby,” you say, voice warm and playful over the music, tugging him into your space.

he watches you, amused, the irritation from moments ago melting under your touch.

“you having fun, my angel?” he asks, his free hand coming up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, thumb lingering on your cheek as he leans in closer, the party’s chaos fading to a hum around you both.

“mhm,” you hum softly, the sound vibrating through him as your arms slide up to loop around his neck, fingers threading into the soft hair at his nape.

“why are you standing here all alone, though?” you ask, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, your breath warm and laced with the faint sweetness of whatever fruity drink you've been sipping.

jaemin’s mouth quirks into that teasing grin, his hands settling on your hips, thumbs tracing lazy circles over the fabric of your shirt, “my girl has been stolen from me and i was waiting for her to remember i existed,” he says, voice low and playful, though there's a flicker of a hidden edge in his tone.

your eyes widen in mock surprise, a giggle bubbling up as you lean in closer, “sorry,” you smile sheepishly, “—giselle and i were full on operation get bunny and sungchan together but then she started telling this story about this date she went on and—”

he doesn't let you finish, cutting you off with a kiss that's slow and deep, lips claiming yours in a way that silences the world around you. one hand cups the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, while the other pulls you flush against him, the heat of his body seeping through your clothes. you melt into it, kissing him back just as deeply.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours for a beat, “i was kidding, angel,” he murmurs softly, “you were having fun…you don’t need to explain that.”

but even as he says it, jaemin’s mind flashes back to wonbin's hand on your waist, the way the guy had leaned in too far. it’s stupid and he knows it — you're here now, wrapped around him like you belong, which you do.

still, the possessiveness simmers under his skin, a quiet burn that makes him want to stake his claim all over again, right here if he could.

“hmm, i want to have fun with you though,” you murmur, your voice a soft, teasing lilt that cuts through the war in his mind, fingers tracing heart shaped patterns on his chest.

jaemin's eyes sparkle with interest, his last remnants of irritation fading into the background.

“want to dance?” he suggests, hand already shifting to the small of your back, ready to lead you into the crowd.

you shake your head, a playful no, “a different kind of fun...just me and you,” you say, a small sultry smile forming on your lips, your gaze locking onto his with unmistakable intent.

the words hang between you, charged and electric — he knows exactly what that means, the way your body language shifts, pressing closer.

heat surges through him. he doesn’t hesitate, nodding with a low hum of approval as you take his hand, fingers interlacing with his and start guiding him away from the dance floor, weaving through the bodies of laughing friends and strangers as you head toward the stairs.

as you pass the group — giselle mid-story with somi and shotaro listening to her, sungchan and bunny off to the side — jaemin’s gaze lands on wonbin. the guy is standing there, drink in hand, his eyes flicking toward you with that same lingering interest from before, almost like jaemin was invisible to him.

jaemin can’t help it — he glares, sharp and unyielding, his free hand dropping to your waist instead, fingers digging in just enough to tighten his hold, pulling you flush against his side. he doesn't say a word, but his eyes say enough:

she’s mine.

wonbin meets the stare for a split second, then looks away, busying himself with his drink, the message received loud and clear. you don't notice the silent exchange, too focused on the warmth of jaemin’s body next to yours, the anticipation building with each step up the stairs.

the party’s noise dulls to a muffled throb behind the closed door of his bedroom, the space familiar and intimate. you release his hand only to turn the lock with a soft click, sealing you both away from the world below.

without a word, you both kick off your shoes like it’s routine. he sinks down against the headboard, his legs stretching out and you climb onto his lap, straddling him with effortless familiarity. his arms snake around your waist immediately, pulling you flush against his chest, clingy in a way that makes your heart flutter, hands roaming lazily up your back, providing you that comfort only he could.

you settle in, your head resting on his shoulder for a moment before you tilt up with a conspiratorial grin.

“i think operation get bunny and sungchan together is a total success,” you declare, your voice light and buzzing with the thrill of the evening’s gossip.

“is it now?” jaemin murmurs, his lips curving into an amused smile against your temple, clearly delighted by your enthusiasm. he nuzzles closer, his breath warm on your skin.

“yeah, didn’t you see them? they were standing so close—like, really close,” you gush, your eyes sparkling as you replay the moment in your mind.

“hmm,” he hums thoughtfully, “that’s too bad for jeno, though.”

you pull back slightly, raising a brow in curiosity. “what do you mean?”

he chuckles softly, his gaze softening as he watches your expression, “he’s been in love with her since forever. i just don't think he knows yet.”'

your eyes widen, surprise flickering across your face, “really?!”

“mhm,” jaemin confirms with a nod, his thumb stroking soothing circles on your side.

“huh,” you muse, tilting your head as you process the revelation, “well, maybe this will finally help him see things clearly... though that's a little unfair to bunny, don't you think?” you pout, your lips pursing in that endearing way he absolutely adores.

he finds it utterly adorable, his chest rumbling with a quiet laugh, “and why’s that, angel?”

“becauseee…jeno's had all these years to figure it out, and it takes someone else giving her attention for him to wake up? i don’t know... she deserves more than that. someone who sees her right away, without needing a push.”

jaemin hums in delight, the sound vibrating through you where you're pressed together, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he drinks in your thoughtful expression.

“....unless you know something i don’t,” you add, prying with a playful nudge, eager for more of the juicy details.

he smiles, a fond, reminiscent curve to his lips, “you should’ve seen those two the start of freshman year. i used to watch them and wish i had something like that — real, effortless...the kind of connection that just clicks...if it doesn’t happen now, i’m sure it will eventually.”

“what changed then? why didn’t anything happen between them?,” you ask, completely absorbed.

“the whole party life got the best of us,” he replies with a wry shrug, his voice tinged with self-deprecating humor, “chasing thrills, avoiding anything that stuck. it was fun enough to get lost in.”

you hum softly, falling quiet for a beat, your fingers absently tracing the collar of his shirt as the weight of his words settles.

“do you miss it?” you ask, voice gentle, eyes searching his.

for a split second jaemin just stares at you, like the question itself is ridiculous. then he lets out a quiet breath and shakes his head no.

“not even a little,” his expression softens, something unguarded slipping through as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “i’m happy exactly where i’m at — with you.” his voice drops, intimate and sure, and before you can respond, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s slow and sweet, like a promise sealed in the quiet.

it’s tender, his mouth moving against yours with unhurried affection, soft presses that deepen gradually.

in jaemin's mind, it hits him again, sharp and undeniable — how deeply he loves you, this easy rhythm you share, the way you fit against him like you were made for it, the way you look at him like he’s more than the image everyone else sees.

and how love like this doesn’t come without it’s uglier edges.

because with the warmth in his chest comes the quieter things too — the things he doesn't always like admitting to himself. like the sharp flicker of jealousy when someone looks at you a little too long, the instinctive pull to keep you close, to remind the world that you’re his.

it’s never loud. never reckless. jaemin has always been good at keeping those feelings tucked neatly beneath the surface. but they’re there.

the kiss heats up, growing hungrier as his hands slide under your shirt, palms warm and insistent against your bare skin. your breaths quicken, bodies shifting with building need, until he can't hold back anymore.

with a low groan, he swiftly moves you beneath him, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he hovers above, eyes dark with desire.

his body settles over yours, bracing one arm beside your head, his other hand cupping your cheek. the kiss breaks only for him to trail his lips down your jaw, nipping lightly at your skin while his fingers work the buttons of your shirt open, exposing your chest to the cool air of the room. you arch up into him, hands sliding under his shirt to feel the hard planes of his abs, urging him closer.

“you're so beautiful,” jaemin whispers against your collarbone, his voice rough with need as he pushes the shirt off your shoulders, tossing it aside along with your bra.

his mouth follows, kissing a hot path down to your breasts, his large hand squeezing the flesh before he sucks it into his mouth, drawing a gasp from you. your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him there as heat sparks through you.

his free hand grips your hip, thumb dipping under the waistband of your pants, an undercurrent of urgency in his touch, his breaths coming faster.

you tug at his shirt in response, and he pulls back just enough to yank it over his head, revealing the toned lines of his torso that you trace with your nails.

clothes shed in a hurried rhythm — your pants slide down your legs, his following suit until you're both bare, skin flushed and heated.

jaemin’s cock stands hard and thick against his stomach, the tip already glistening as he positions himself between your thighs, nudging them wider with his knee. he reaches down, fingers parting your folds to stroke his cock against your clit in slow circles, watching your face intently as you moan, your hips bucking up for more.

“jaem... please,” you breathe, your voice needy, and he groans at the sound, leaning down to kiss you deeply while he teases you with his tip.

“i’ve got you, angel,” he murmurs against your lips, his eyes locking on yours, dark and possessive, before pushing in slowly. inch by inch, he fills you, the stretch burning sweetly as your pussy adjusts to his size, gripping him tight.

you both sigh at the connection, his forehead resting against yours as he bottoms out, holding still to let you adjust to his length the way he knows you need to.

“feels so good,” he says softly, starting to move with shallow thrusts, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm that builds the heat between you. your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he quickens the pace just a fraction.

but as he watches you — eyes half-lidded, lips parted in pleasure, soft moans of his name slipping past them, your breasts bouncing with each gentle snap of his hips — something twists in his chest.

the jealousy surges back, uninvited, hot and sharp.

wonbin thought he could have this? get you like this? see you writhing under him, moaning his name?

the thought fuels him, his thrusts turning harder, deeper, his hand gripping your thigh to hitch your leg higher, angling so he hits that spot inside you with every drive.

you cry out, nails digging into his shoulders as the shift catches you off guard, pleasure spiking.

“jaemin—oh god,” you gasp, doing your best to meet his movements, your pussy fluttering around his cock.

he growls low in his throat, the sound primal as he pounds into you, the bed creaking under the force.

no one else gets this. you’re mine.

his free hand pins your wrist above your head, his mouth claiming your neck with bites that will surely leave marks, sucking hard enough to bruise. the possessiveness drives him, each slap of skin against skin echoing his frustration.

fuck that guy. this is what you look like for me. and only me.

his hips snap relentlessly now, his cock dragging against your walls in a way that has you clenching tighter.

“jaem—,” you whimper his name as the ecstasy builds way too fast, coiling low in your belly, your legs shaking at the force.

something was different. sure, you weren’t strangers to rough sex, but even when it was rough, jaemin usually liked to take his time with you. liked to accompany his rough thrusts with praises and soft kisses. right now, he’s being too quiet. no whispers of sweet nothings. just frustrated grunts spilling from his lips, his eyebrows furrowed.

he grips your ass, lifting you slightly to fuck you even harder, the head of his cock brushing your cervix with each plunge. sweat slicks your bodies, his muscles flexing as he chases the edge, watching your face contort in bliss, your fingers clenching around his arm desperate to keep yourself grounded.

his hand slips between you, rubbing your clit frantically, and you were an absolute goner.

“come for me,” he rasps, his own control fraying, the jealousy morphing into fierce triumph.

he’ll never know how you feel, how you sound when you shatter.

you cum hard, mouth open in a silent moan, eyes shut in bliss, your pussy clenching incredibly tight, warm juices coating his cock.

the sensation undoes him. jaemin buries himself to the hilt, a guttural moan escaping as he cums inside you for the first time, hot spurts flooding your walls, filling you deeply, marking you in the most intimate way — it’s new. this feeling of him releasing entirely within you, his usual caution forgotten in the heat of the moment.

you’ve been on birth control since early in your relationship, so it doesn't worry you, but he’s always been so careful — always choosing to wear a condom or pulling out to spill across your stomach instead.

he collapses forward, chest heaving against yours, both of you panting in the heavy silence broken only by fading breaths.

after a moment, he rolls to the side, pulling you into his arms with a possessiveness that lingers even now. his hand strokes your stomach lazily, but you can sense the remnants of that edge in the way he holds you close, like he's anchoring himself.

you nestle against his chest, tracing patterns on his skin as your heart rate slows, the warmth of his cum inside you a tangible reminder of the difference tonight.

“that was... different,” you murmur softly, tilting your head to look up at him. “and you... you came inside me. everything okay?”

jaemin pauses, his fingers still tracing lazy circles on your back. he forces a smile, the corners of his mouth lifting, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes — the usual warmth dimmed by a shadow you recognize all too well.

“nothing's wrong... just couldn't help myself,” he says, his voice light, almost playful, as he leans in to brush his lips against your temple.

you shift slightly in his arms, propping yourself up on one elbow to search his face more closely, “jaemin... we promised we’d always tell the truth,”you remind him gently, your hand cupping his cheek, thumb stroking the line of his jaw.

he sighs, a deep, reluctant exhale that ruffles your hair, his gaze dropping to the sheets tangled around your legs before meeting yours again. the confession tumbles out like he's testing the words.

“i... i got jealous,” he admits, the admission rough around the edges, his brow furrowing as if the emotion itself puzzles him, “wonbin was all over you down there — his hand on your back, leaning in too close. and i just...i don't know what to do with it. i've never felt like this before. it's stupid, right? everyone knows you’re mine, but seeing him touch you like that... it pissed me off."

his hand tightens on your hip, pulling you closer as if to reaffirm the words. you can feel the tension easing from his body as he lays it bare, his usual confidence giving way to this unfamiliar territory.

and he knows it’s not about control. not really. it’s just that loving you this much does something strange to his instincts. it makes him protective in ways he never used to be. makes something territorial stir quietly in his chest.

meanwhile, a secret thrill courses through you at his confession, the raw edge of his jealousy making your heart flutter in a way you hadn't expected. it’s endearing, seeing the confident jaemin unravel just a bit over you, and a tiny smile tugs at the corners of your lips despite the seriousness of the moment.

he notices immediately, his head tilting as he cocks an eyebrow, that familiar playful glint trying to push through the lingering tension, “are you enjoying this?” he asks, his voice laced with mock accusation, though his hand still rests softly on your hip, thumb brushing over your skin.

before he can say more, you lean in and pull him into a deep kiss, your lips molding against his with a softness that contrasts the earlier urgency.

when you break away, your breath mingles with his as you murmur, “now you know how i feel with your fanclub.”

jaemin lets out a genuine laugh then, the sound rumbling from his chest and easing the last of the green from his eyes. he shakes his head, pulling you even closer so your bodies align perfectly.

“angel, that’s different,” he says, his tone affectionate and reassuring, fingers weaving into your hair, “you know i only have eyes for you.”

you smile back, the expression warmer now, your voice dropping to a softer whisper as you trace a finger along his collarbone, “it’s not different because i only have eyes for you, too.”

the words hang in the air between you, simple yet profound, sealing the vulnerability with a quiet promise. his gaze softens completely, understanding, and he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

the intimacy lingers in the air, your bodies still pressed close in the aftermath, his warmth enveloping you like a promise.

you shift slightly against him, feeling the subtle twitch of his cock stirring back to life, and a playful pout forms on your lips as you meet his gaze.

“now fuck me properly, won't you? that ended too fast,” you murmur, your voice a teasing, adorable whine.

jaemin’s eyes darken with renewed hunger, but a soft smile curves his mouth, affectionate and knowing.

he doesn’t rush this time — instead he guides your leg over his hip so you're facing each other in a close spoon, bodies aligned perfectly, his chest to yours. his hand slides down your thigh, gripping firmly as he positions himself, his hard cock fully against your slick folds. the tip teases your entrance, rubbing back and forth through your wetness before he pushes in slowly, inch by thick inch, stretching you open with a deliberate gentleness that makes you gasp and arch into him.

“fuck, angel,” he groans low, his breath hot against your ear as he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours.

you sway your hips in rhythm with his, matching the unhurried but deep thrusts that rock you both together, his cock dragging along your walls with every slide.

“just like that, angel, look at me.”

his free hand snakes between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, thumb pressing firm, insistent circles over the swollen nub, making your pussy clench around him in response.

he watches you the entire time — his gaze locked on your face, intense and unwavering, drinking in every flutter of your lashes, every parted gasp and moan from your lips. he loves watching you like this, utterly consumed by him, your body responding only to his touch.

“god, you take me so perfectly,” he murmurs, voice rough with desire, his thrusts picking up a fraction, grinding deeper to hit that sensitive spot inside you that sends pleasure up your spine.

the build is slow but electric, his cock plunging in and out with wet, obscene sounds filling the room, your juices coating him as you rock together. your hands roam his back, nails scraping lightly, urging him closer.

“only you can fuck me like this,” you whisper breathlessly, locking eyes with him, your words a soothing balm to his earlier jealousy, “only you make me feel this good — filling me up just right.”

his response is a deep, possessive growl, hips snapping forward harder now, the passion igniting as he claims you with each thrust.

he grunts, thumb circling your clit faster, pressing down to make you whimper and buck against him. your bodies slick with sweat, he leans in to capture your mouth in a soft, deep kiss, tongues tangling as he fucks into you with building fervor, the spooning position allowing him to grind his pelvis against your clit on every inward stroke.

“god, jaemin, yes — right there,” you moan into his lips, pussy fluttering around his thick length, the coil in your belly tightening unbearably. he doesn't let up, pounding deeper.

it's too much — the tight circles on your clit, the way his dick hits every nerve, the sweet words and little sounds he’s making by your ear — your orgasm crashes over you with no warning, walls clamping down hard on him, milking his shaft as you pull him in closer, trying to ground yourself, body shaking, thighs trembling.

he doesn't falter, thrusting into your oversensitive pussy as he chases his peak, the wet slap of skin echoing louder.

“shit, you feel so good clenching like that,” he grunts, forehead pressed to yours, sweat dripping between you.

you encourage him through your haze, legs wrapping tighter, “cum inside me again, baby — only you get to mark me as yours.”

that pushes him over the edge for the second time — his rhythm stutters, hips grinding deep one last time before he buries himself to the hilt and erupts, hot ropes of cum flooding your walls, coating you thoroughly as a guttural moan tears from his throat, holding you pinned against him, his cock twitching with each spurt until he's spent, pulsing inside your heat.

he stays buried deep, his arms wrapping around you protectively as the aftershocks fade, the room filled with nothing but your shared breaths and the profound connection that no one else could touch.

as the waves of pleasure subside, jaemin remains nestled deep within you for a lingering moment, his body heavy and sated against yours, the warmth of his release seeping into your core. your breaths slowing from ragged gasps to soft sighs.

with gentleness, he eases out of you, his hand stroking your thigh in a soothing caress. he reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing a handful of tissues, his touch tender as he wipes away the evidence of your shared passion.

“sorry for being too rough earlier, angel,” he murmurs, his voice laced with quiet remorse, eyes searching yours with a mix of affection and concern, “i just... needed you so much tonight.”

you tilt your head, pressing a tender kiss to his damp forehead, your fingers threading gently through his tousled hair, “i love you,” you whisper.

he lifts his gaze to yours, eyes soft and shimmering with unspoken emotion, a smile blooming slow and radiant on his lips.

“i love you more,” he murmurs back, his voice a velvet caress, sweeter than honey as he nuzzles closer.

with a contented hum, he pulls you into his embrace, his head finding solace on your chest. his ear presses against your heartbeat, steady and reassuring, while his arm drapes possessively over your waist, legs tangling with yours in a lazy knot.

the world fades entirely, leaving only this.

and the jealousy may come again. but he knows it would never be enough to overshadow the love. just enough to remind him how much there is to lose.

🪽

an: finally, a loverboy extra for you! notice how i didn’t say sunday? lol yeah…i could not keep up with that :( sorry…i flew too close to the sun with that idea. anyways the second sex position is inspired by benophie iykyk ;) let me know what you think of jealous jaemin 💘

love tags: @dearlyminhyung @hyuckluvr-com @fancypeacepersona @chvngminz @hyunkaluv @iluvgnabnahc @n-jules @haesunlover2 @nottkwiwin @alexameliamg @ihatefrvits @amazinggraxia @karleereadssmut @drunkhee @bamjjwi @mahae @ncityswrid @jaeminiwrld @httpsxnox @blubb0 @pocketyoun @multifandomania @mey-archive @zuzu-the-simp @markiepoo4eva @jungwooie@jwikyo @withapairofwings @cookydream @meowieshibal @remgeolli @yutasputa @kyungsooislifeu @dior-15 @hyucksnctzen @bridgertonletsgo @leleszn @hijjjjku79999 @afterhvours @mangoescrazy @vantxx95 @nctubatu

TAGLIST: CLOSED.

"You're stabbing at your food," a soft, amused voice cut through the loud chatter of the cafeteria, "Should I be worried that you're also giving me the death glare?"

Y/N doesn't take her eyes off him. She hated how well he held eye-contact, and she wasn't going to lose the little battles before the war. So, she sends him a scowl as a response, her dark, frizzy hair puffing up like a lion's mane.

Jaemin was intrigued by her. She was the only person who would never smile back, never say anything more than a few words to him. As if dealing with him, or people in general, sucked out her limited supply of energy.

Jaemin sits down next to her, his arm brushing against hers with the protection of her thick, knit sweater, "We're supposed to choose our pairs for the science project, wanna work together?"

She let out a scoff, side-eyeing him for the sheer audacity of asking something so absurd, "No," She replies flatly, munching on her cafeteria food that suddenly tasted like slop in his presence.

He raised an amused brow, smile never faltering. Honestly, she would pay good money to see him not smiling for once, "Come on, why not? You're smart and I'm... kinda smart. We'd make a good team! I've even come up with possible names for our duo," he clears his throat as if preparing a proposal for Shark Tank, "sun and moon, yin and yang, Princess and The Frog..."

"Princess?" She scoffs.

"Yeah, I'll be the princess and you can be the fro-," she grumbles under her breath, standing up with her tray and moving to another empty table. Jaemin was unfazed, unfortunately, and followed her casually as if she'd asked to move together.

"Stop following me," Y/N huffed, nestling into her purple sweater as she continued to stab at her food. She could see Jaemin's group of friends watching like vigilant vultures from the corner of her eye.

Haechan, the cocky, intimidating star student — or would be star student if he weren't so lazy. Chenle, the real crazy rich Asian, often coming to school with something designer. And Renjun, the angry artist who she often wondered how he fit in such a group, being as he seemed like the only normal person there.

She could almost hear their judgment, confused on why Jaemin spent almost every lunchtime circling around the grouchy loner.

Jaemin chuckled, slotting into the chair next to her, to which she nudged her chair to the side, trying to get as far away from him as physically possible, even down to the atoms, "it's either I work with you or Jisung... and I don't want to work with him."

Her eyes met his, glaring in a way Jaemin would call cute, strangely, "Not my problem."

Jaemin pokes at her arm, giggling when she jumps, startled, "But whyyy. That guy would be scared at the sight of a bunsen burner, that's not even on, mind you."

"Again, not my problem."

Jaemin pouted, resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he let his soft gaze flick over her features. He had a horrible habit of keeping his eyes locked on people's lips, even more so when they spoke. But, from up close, his appearance matched the mix of a doe and a rabbit with his long, fluttering lashes and big, round eyes.

She hated deers and rabbits.

"Would it be your problem if we were friends?" Jaemin asked suddenly. Everything about his voice to his gaze were genuine. He meant every word, and that scared her.

She froze, grip tightening on her cutlery as she slowly met his watching eyes, "Friends?"

"Friends," Jaemin added, "I want us to be friends. You're nice."

She snorted. For the first time, she actually made a sound close enough to be a laugh and Jaemin, startled, looked at her like a deer caught in headlights. As if a UFO had landed right in front of him and aliens stepped out wearing chicken suits, "You're delusional."

"Delusional or not, I made you laugh. Even more of a reason for us to be friends, I'm a good influence on you," Jaemin teased. Immediately, her expression faltered.

The sun was obnoxiously loud, and infuriatingly cocky.

The sun was, indeed, loud.

When she woke up this morning, she never would have guessed how horrible today would be. Not until Jaemin raised his hand incredibly high and chirped to the science teacher, "Y/N and I would like to be partners!"

If looks could kill, Jaemin would be shot dead on Earth, stopped before he got to the pearly white gates; his soul extracted into a minuscule bottle, crushed and thrown into the deepest, tenebrous voids before he even had a chance at getting reincarnated.

She sighed, loudly. She could hear people whispering, their watchful gaze flicking between the pair. Jaemin was as smiley as ever, his eyes little crescents as he skipped over to her, flower petals trailing behind him like some spring-happy leprechaun.

Y/N placed her bag on the one free seat next to her, and Jaemin pouted just as he got to her table, "Hey, is that how you treat your partner?"

She couldn't even spare him a glance, not with her seething, "I told you, I didn't want to be your partner."

Jaemin shrugs, placing his books on the table and pulls out a separate chair to sit in front of her — all without complaint or a twitching smile. He could tell she was mad at him, he wasn't a fool. Usually, she'd be boring burning hot holes into his skin with her piercing glare, though now, she kept her eyes on her science book, not sparing him a glance.

He was cautious with his movements, watching her as he sat right in front, just close enough to smell the soft hint of lavender from her jumper. He didn't want to scare her off or build the tension further so, he did the next best thing he could think of.

Digging into his bag, he pulls out his phone and wired earphones, ones he carried with him for years. It was to anyone's amazement how they lasted so long. He scrolls through his playlist, trying to find anything that was calming enough and, when he does, he grins to himself, leaning over to place one bud into her ear.

Her eyes snapped to his, his finger still pressed to the earbud to stop her from snatching it out so quickly, but that meant he was closer than he had ever been. She couldn't help but to notice those dark eyes that reflected the glittering ceiling lights as his warm, gentle and hesitant breath brushed her dewy skin, "What are you-"

"Just... I know you don't want to talk to me right now so, let's listen to some music together. Just this once," his smile was softer now, eyes trained on her with a hint of nervousness.

When Jaemin realised she wasn't making a move to yank the earphones out, he slowly retracted his hand, letting the music play. Surprisingly, the song was calming and sweet — a stark contrast to the energiser bunny who sat in front of her, grinning like a madman just at her tolerating his presence.

Jaemin confused her. She couldn't understand how someone could be so... sunshine and rainbows. Just looking at him was exhausting, feeling the corners of her lips burn at the simple thought of grinning twenty four hours of every day. He may as well have had more muscles on his lips than she had in her arms.

"You're always smiling," she mutters, scribbling random doodles into her science book, not caring if it affects the presentation. She felt herself calming a little from the music alone.

Jaemin nods slowly, looking through their worksheet for the experiment they had to do over the course of the week, "Is that a bad thing?"

It felt like that question alone stumped her. It wasn't that smiling was a bad thing, but with Jaemin, it always felt forced — maintaining the good boy image. She scoffs lightly, "It's annoying."

He only laughs at that, leaning in closer as his voice turns to a whisper, "So, if I smiled less, you'd tolerate me more?"

Her confused look had Jaemin smiling at her like a fool, trying to see how far he could push as he pulled away, "Tolerate me enough to become friends, I mean. You didn't give me an answer yesterday either."

"Thought it was an obvious no," she takes the spare worksheet and starts filling in the equipment they'd need and the correct order of steps.

Jaemin lets out a sudden, obnoxiously loud "wow" at the sight of the work she had done in a mere five minutes. He snatches it from the desk, his thumbs digging into the edges of the paper as he held it up in amazement, lips puckered in an exaggerated 'O', before his gaze flicked to her, always searching for a hint of a reaction, "I don't think we will need a whole week to get this experiment done. At least, not with you as my partner."

"Don't get used to it. You're pulling your own weight for this project," Y/N mumbles, snatching the worksheet out of his hands, her fingers brushing his in the process. She flinches slightly at the contact, and Jaemin doesn't let it slide, his smile sneakily widening.

"Well too late. I'm already naming my future children after you."

She stares at him with a deadpanned expression, "You're so weird."

"Thank you," he beams.

There's a long silence after that. She quietly observes Jaemin, whose lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, smile softening as he chooses another song on his playlist, humming along to it. Then, her gaze drops to the paper again.

"Are you serious about being friends?" she asks softly, not looking up, voice so low he almost doesn't hear it.

He stops humming, "Yeah, I am."

Y/N finally looks up, and Jaemin's not smiling this time, clearly serious.

She considers it. Actually weighs the pros and cons of being friends with the sun which, if she hadn't known any better, would only repeat Icarus' story, where her wax wings would melt if she got too close, "Don't expect me to tell you my favourite colour or make friendship bracelets out of loom bands with you."

Jaemin's smile slowly returns, as if he's waiting for her to change her mind, "That's okay, you can start by telling me what you hate most about me."

She snorts, "As if there's enough time for that in a day."

"Perfect," he sends her his classic toothy grin, "Guess I have more of an excuse to hang around you for longer, then."

The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, illuminating the multi-coloured shelves filled with snacks and bold coloured stickers with deals peppered along the products. It had smelled faintly of overripe bananas, cheap detergent, and air freshener — the familiar scent of your standard convenience stores. Jaemin had wandered the snack aisle on a lazy evening, indecisively scouring the 2-for-1 promotions. He was low on energy after spending the whole afternoon playing football against his will. Though, he was somewhat grateful it wasn't basketball this time, thanks to Chenle going on some last minute holiday.

All thoughts screeched to a halt while he was scanning for some snacks, seeing her behind the till. She wore the stores' basic, bright blue apron, the collar of the white undershirt slightly crooked, and an upside-down name tag pinned to her chest which gave more than enough away that she was in a rush to get to her shift. But most of all, she was smiling at the elderly woman in front of her, offering a genuine laugh when the lady made a joke he could barely make out.

Her laugh was so pretty to him. Despite it being awkward, tethering on deep yet with a sweet lilt... It was so unique, so adorable and something he wished he could hear over and over again, like a broken record.

He couldn't get over that smile, either. It brightened up her face and made her even more gorgeous than she already was. His eyes were locked on the soft and slightly shy grin, tugging up on one side. He had never seen her like that before, but he was already obsessed, his heart clenching as a sudden cuteness aggression overcame him.

The moment she noticed him walking towards the register with a basket of snacks, however, her expression had snapped back into its usual stormy cloud, the corners of her lips sinking into a scowl. Jaemin stifled a laugh as he set his snacks down on the counter.

"Hey," he whined, yet his voice was as bright and sunny as always, "I'm a customer too, where's my smile?"

"What are you doing here, Jaemin?" she grumbled, already scanning the items with speedy efficiency, clearly wanting to get rid of him.

"I came to see you," He let the sentence hang just long enough between them before correcting himself, "Actually... I just wanted some snacks."

She glanced at the box of Lucky Charms he placed on the counter —bright and completely childlike, just like him. She blinked before letting out a soft giggle, the sound barely audible, but loud enough for Jaemin to catch it. He felt butterflies going haywire in the pits of his stomach.

"You seriously eat this shi- stuff?"

"Religiously," he replied, smirking, "I'm convinced it really is sprinkled with some magical form of luck."

"Oh yeah, and what have you been lucky with?" she muttered, slipping the items into a plastic bag.

"You," he added with a grin. There was no hesitation in the way he had said it, especially with that stupid, shit-eating grin and the mischievous light in his eyes. But she forced her expression to remain neutral, even when a string of curses sat on the tip of her tongue.

The occasional beep of items being scanned and the quiet chatter of the other customers in the back had filled the silence between them. Jaemin leaned back and forth, raising an amused brow at her, cocky from having gotten to her in some way.

"I didn't know you worked here," he said finally, trying to fill in the silence and not wanting this moment with her to end so soon.

Y/N shrugged, adjusting the strap of her apron as she suddenly started to feel awkward, "It's... just part-time. Pays for things like snacks. But I never get to eat them because I have to smile at people like you all day."

He grinned wider, ignoring her slight jab, "So you do smile."

"God, you're annoying," she groans, packing the last of the items and gesturing to the till for him to pay.

Jaemin only smirks wider, tapping his card until a beep resounded in the shop, "And you're blushing."

"I am not-"

"Oh, you definitely are, but this would surely make you blush more...," He leans in, grabbing the plastic bag out of her hands, fingers barely brushing, as he whispered against the shell of her ear, "you're cuter when you smile."

Her hands stilled slightly as she let go of the bag as if they were opposites on either side of a magnet.

He held her gaze for a moment, before pulling away, "Thanks for the snacks."

"Don't come here again," Y/N grumbled.

Jaemin stepped back towards the automatic doors which kept trying to close, blocking the path of some customers as he smiled like a fool at her, as usual. She hated how he made her feel in this moment, and she could swear her heart had beat louder than the generic pop music which played in the shop. Maybe she would blame the fact that he was someone who does eat lucky charms. But his next words cut through her thoughts as he stifled a laugh before leaving, "No promises, cutie."

And, for some strange reason, that word didn't make her internally gag.

The cafeteria was in a state of a mess; chaotic noise and clattering trays, loud, overlapping conversations, and the sharp screeching of metal chairs. The air had smelt faintly of overcooked pasta and whatever they had tried to pass off as food today — what students would call radioactive slop. But not one table was as loud as the one Jaemin was sat on with his friends.

"I'm telling you, she's the cutest girl around. Like- Haechan, stop laughing, I'm being serious!" Jaemin glares daggers at the male who was barely keeping still on his chair.

"Yeah, I bet. I'd also bet she hexed you," Haechan, who sat across from Jaemin, wipes away a stray tear, followed by a sigh as he calmed down from his burst of laughter.

Renjun sat next to Haechan, nudging him with the pristine sleeve of his blazer. He had always kept a clean-cut appearance where not even a tiny drop of paint ever landed on his attire, "If Jaemin likes her, who cares? I will be judging though, but from the sidelines."

Jaemin grumbles, pushing his half-eaten tray away from him as he crossed his arms, "You guys are assholes. What happened to being happy for me?"

Chenle chirps in, glancing at the woman who was the focus of their conversation sat a few tables down on her own. He jabs a finger into the table, a classic Chenle move whenever he had a 'valid' point to make, eyebrows raised with passion, "You guys are like... the complete opposites of each other. She would definitely steal all your light. Well- on second thought, that's probably a good thing, maybe you'd finally be somewhat bearable to be around."

Jaemin rolls his eyes, stuffing a spoonful of rice and munching it in irritation, "Look, if you actually spoke to her, you'd see that there is more to her. She actually smiles too, and it's so adorable, plus-" Haechan side-eyes Jaemin; partly for speaking with a mouthful of food, and the other for simping over her of all people, "Don't tell me you're already pussy-whipped when you've only spoken to her once."

Jaemin's mouth drops in shock, "Once?! I've spoken to her like... three, four times?"

Haechan snorts, resting his hands behind his head, sprawling lazily out on the chair, "Might as well have been once. You can count it on one hand. You barely know her."

"Well, I know her better than you guys do, so why are we judging so hard?" Jaemin snaps, and his friends suddenly grow silent and tense. It was unlike the usually sunny male to get angry or irritated. His jaw was clenched as he dropped his metal chopsticks on the tray, the clatter loud.

Renjun clears his throat awkwardly, looking around the table, his brows furrowed softly as he met Jaemin's gaze, "You... do know why everyone avoids her though, don't you?"

Jaemin pauses, eyes flicking to his friend. Something in Renjun's tone makes the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, the tension, paired with worry, simmering.

"What do you mean?" he asks suspiciously, his voice quiet and brows furrowing.

Renjun shifts in his seat, shrugging, "Just… she's not exactly friendly. People say she snapped at teachers, ditched group projects, cursed out that senior last year-"

"She cursed at him because he was mocking her in front of everyone," Jaemin cuts in sharply, his leg bouncing under the table in frustration, "And the group projects... Maybe no one ever wanted to work with her. She had always been a target of stupid jokes. Besides, how is any of that a big deal?"

The table falls quiet again and Chenle raises a brow and puts his hands up in surrender, trying to lighten the mood, "Okay, damn. Someone is ready to fight for her honour."

Jaemin huffs, "No- Look I'm just saying... people love to talk. Don't you think she's just tired of all these assholes?"

Haechan whistles lowly, "Okay, our knight in shining armour, should we start planning the wedding?"

"Shut up," Jaemin mutters, his cheeks flushed pink, "I already did."

The lab was meant to be quiet except, Jaemin was being clumsy with the equipment. The glass beakers kept clinking against each other, and it was surprising how they hadn't smashed into pieces with his large hands. It was only them in the lab, away from the bustling lunch hall, and it was supposed to be them finishing off the experiment before they had to type up their conclusions. However, working with Jaemin was proving to be a separate challenge.

Y/N tugged her sleeves up her arms in frustration as she kept glaring at him and giving him orders. But Jaemin found her to appear less reserved when she wasn't surrounded by others — still sharp around the cute edges, but not enough to make a man cower.

"Put the beaker down slowly," she said, eyeing the glass nervously as Jaemin finished pouring the solution into a separate beaker, "I swear to God if you shatter another one-"

"Relax," Jaemin chuckled, mocking offence as he set it down with exaggerated grace, gesturing to it in celebration. She forgot he had arms that could squash a coconut in one go, panicking at the sight of him handling fragile equipment. But his cockiness worried her even further, "I have the hands of a pianist."

She side-eyed him with a slight look of surprise, "You play the piano?"

"No, but I could," he wiggles his fingers, "with these sexy hands."

She rolled her eyes, but he caught the subtle twitch of her lips before she turned away to fetch the other materials.

They had been measuring and watching the colours blend in the beaker, creating an... interesting solution. He watched her scribble something in the worksheet, noticing her handwriting was messier than he'd expected. It had kept changing its font, far from the consistent and neat image she had presented as, at least, with her personality. His eyes trailed to her frizzy hair that added an adorable, messy look to her, like his favourite character from UP, Ellie.

"You're staring," she mumbled, her pen tapping the edge of the paper in annoyance.

"Just admiring your handwriting," Jaemin teased, leaning slightly closer, glancing to her writing again, "It looks like five different people wrote that."

"Want to lose the ability to smile?"

He chuckled, watching as she moved to hold a pipette above one of the mixtures, "Are you going to start writing the conclusion, or should I do everything?"

Jaemin snapped back to reality, side stepping to grab the worksheet and immediately tapping the pencil to his cheek in thought, "Right, conclusion," he frowned when nothing came to mind, "Something something… mixture."

Y/N slowly turned to face him, "Very insightful," she deadpanned.

He didn't miss the tiniest curve of her mouth again and, God, even when she stifled a smile, it would still hit like a punch to the gut. He was starting to think maybe she was right to hide it as people would be drawn to her like the North Star. And now, it was starting to feel like it was a sight only he was allowed to see.

"You say that like it's not the best conclusion you have ever heard," Jaemin added, pressing the pencil to his lip smugly.

She sighed, snatching the worksheet from him without a word and scribbling a few lines with a quiet confidence that made him raise a brow. Her writing was still chaotic, unlike her thoughts.

He leaned in slightly to peek over at what she wrote, but she folded the paper away from his view like it was a personal diary.

"Do you mind?" she muttered in exasperation.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation, resting his chin on her shoulder to take a better look at the mysterious writing.

Y/N stiffened, her breath hitched as she stayed frozen. It was insane to her how good he smelt, the way her heart stuttered, and the soft weight of him on her shoulder felt... right. She almost let out a loud scoff at her own thoughts before elbowing him sharply in the ribs.

Jaemin let out a dramatic gasp, rubbing the spot with an exaggerated pout, "Excuse me, assault in a science lab full of lethal equipment is a criminal offence!"

"You were in my space."

"It was our space," he mumbled, still rubbing his side, "I would argue we have dual ownership over this lab."

She tongued the inside of her cheek and shoved the worksheet in his direction, "I don't see your name on this paper, Jaemin."

He smirked, feeling his own heart blush at the way his name sounded on her lips, and grabbed the paper, scribbling Na Jaemin (Princess) in the top corner, and (cute frog) next to her name. When he handed it back to her, she glanced at the names, then at him, and rolled her eyes at his silliness.

"Anyway," his voice filled the quiet room, eyes glancing away to look at the clock, seeing they only had a few minutes till the end of lunch, "I think we did a pretty decent job, we should celebrate getting this project done."

She looked up his taller form in confusion, "Celebrate?"

Jaemin nodded, "Yeah, I'll bring you a snack tomorrow, something sweet, so that you forget about annihilating me for barely carrying this project."

She sent him a scowl in response, "And what makes you think I like sweet things?"

He grinned cheekily, packing away the equipment, "You like me, don't you?"

Y/N was convinced Jaemin had hit his head in the past month, especially with all the shit he was spewing. But she couldn't stop the small smile that lifted the corners of her lips, immediately dropping the second she had realised, and Jaemin's eyes widened at the sight. His heart was going haywire. She had finally smiled in his presence, because of him.

"You really do look cute when you smile," he grinned at her, slinging his bag over his shoulder, looking almost entranced by her, "I'm glad I'm the only one who gets to see it."

She snorts, packing her things away as well, "Well, I'd rather you not smile. It's exhausting."

Jaemin smirks, nodding his head, "Okay, I won't!"

He exaggerates a silly-looking scowl, humming at the same time, "Is that better?"

Y/N lets out a disbelieving scoff, eyeing him in what seemed like amusement, "Somehow... that's much worse."

It had been three days. Three days of Jaemin leaving snacks on her desk like some overly enthusiastic snack fairy with too much free time in the crackhead hours of the morning — throwing coins on snacks she hadn't asked for.

He had brought strawberry pocky the first day (what he would call an abomination in a box), Hello Panda's the next, and today? Banana milk — in this obnoxiously bright yellow carton, with the straw poked in. He called it a "romantic gesture".

Y/N stared at the carton on her desk, the happy face of the banana staring right back into her soul. Her brows had furrowed as Jaemin plopped himself into the seat beside her with his usual beaming aura.

"You're welcome," he said with a grin, chin propped up on his hand as he watched her with hearts in his eyes.

"I don't remember saying thank you," she replied blandly, but her fingers still curled around the carton like a stress ball.

Jaemin tilted his head, nodding in agreement, "I know, but you did drink the last two, so... it seems like you do appreciate the gifts, or me. Or both."

"And it seems like," she echoed with a deadpanned expression, "you're annoying. Unsurprisingly."

"Are you waiting for some kind of an applause?" she continued when he didn't make a move to leave, taking another sip of the banana milk.

Jaemin shrugged, never taking his eyes off of her, even as other students around looked on in confusion, "Yes, actually. I deserve a standing ovation. I had brought you peace offerings three days in a row, that's equivalent to a committed relationship."

"You're clinically insane," she shakes her head, scanning over her notes.

"Clinically sexy, you mean," he corrected, wagging his brows, his voice exaggerated loudly.

She let out a long, exhausted sigh that sounded like it came from the pits of her stomach, the kind of sigh only Jaemin could evoke. However, silence had then settled between them again. This time, it was peaceful.

For once, Jaemin wasn't rambling silly little lines, openly flirting with her, or laughing gratingly loud. Instead, he was sitting there, occasionally stealing glances at her while she pretended not to notice. Then, out of nowhere, the words that had left Jaemin's lips gave her whiplash, paired with how casually he had said them.

"Wanna hang out this weekend?"

Y/N's pen slid across the page in shock, her head turning slowly, and suspiciously, like he had just asked her to help him bury a body, "Hang out?"

Jaemin shrugged, "Just thought we could do something, you know, outside of science experiments and this God-forsaken building."

She stared at him blankly for a moment longer before replying, "I'm busy."

"You don't even know what day I meant," Jaemin pouted, throwing rubber shavings her way, playfully.

"I'm busy that day too."

Jaemin smiled, unfazed, "Just know, I'm persistent."

"You mean annoying," she corrected.

He laughed under his breath, leaning back in his seat. "You'll say yes eventually."

"Not likely."

"We'll see."

She did end up saying yes.

When Friday afternoon came rolling in, and he caught up to her outside the school gates with another (peace offering) drink in hand, a grape-flavoured juice, he sent her a hopeful look with his lashes fluttering like the princess he claimed he was.

The weather carried a gentle breeze as the sun formed a subtle halo over the brunette male, making him appear even more angelic than he already was. His dark eyes were softer under the afternoon glow, and his smile felt like spring. Y/N didn't know why things were suddenly changing. Why her thoughts were becoming brighter and warmer in his presence. It was like he had merged into her life as though he had always belonged there, and she couldn't help but to give in.

She rolled her eyes, "Fine. One hour."

Jaemin blinked, surprise etching into his features, "Wait- what?"

"I'll hang out with you," she clarified, crossing her arms and looking off to the side as if she were an older sibling giving into the younger's request, "For an hour. And I'm not doing anything cheesy. If you take me anywhere with fairy lights or those photo booths, I will walk into on-coming traffic."

Jaemin burst into a fit of laughter, barely containing the smile stretching across his face, "You're the one who said yes."

"God," she grumbled, turning to walk ahead, not even waiting for him, "I'm already regretting this."

"No take backs!" He chirped as he caught up to her, grinning like he had won the lottery, "You'll regret it a lot less once you see what I had planned."

She stopped in her tracks, head snapping to him in shock. Not once had she hinted in agreeing to hang out with him, and yet, he had still put in the effort to plan something that wasn't guaranteed. Just because he wanted to make it something special.

"You planned it already?" She asked, eyeing him suspiciously, "And why does that sound like a threat?"

"It's not! It's a promise," he beamed, "And of course I planned it. I knew you were going to agree. I mean, how could you say no to this face?"

He cupped his cheeks and batted his lashes at her. Usually, this would have been something that would instantly make her cringe yet, this time, it was so... Jaemin. So silly and adorably him. It gave her this sense of ease, as though it was alright for her to be just as silly, just as out there as he was. Despite what others may think.

However, Y/N gave him a long, stern look, unimpressed, "You are dangerously close to being punched in the throat."

Jaemin gasped, holding his arms up in defence, "Violence on our first date?"

"It is not a date," she said instantly, her voice a slight screech, feigning a scowl. Her heart was thumping erratically. A date? It was only a month ago when Jaemin had asked to be friends, but the spring-happy leprechaun wouldn't settle on just friends. Not with her.

"Sure it's not," he replied sarcastically, bumping his shoulder into hers. He watched as her teeth bit into the straw of the grape juice, lips puckering as she took a sip. God, he really was down bad.

"So, where exactly are we going?" she asked, interrupting his far from innocent thoughts.

Jaemin's smile twitched, internally cursing himself for getting carried away like that, "Somewhere where you can't walk into traffic."

She groaned, "Great. I can't escape by death."

Jaemin grinned, tugging at her sleeve lightly, "Nah, you're gonna fall."

"Fall?"

"For me," he replied smugly, wiggling his brows.

She stared at him long enough to make him shift slightly. He should have known corny, cheesy, unoriginal pick-up lines would never work on her, "…I changed my mind. Half an hour."

"I bet you're already falling for me," He continued to tease, gently poking at her sides and snickering at her annoyed expression.

"Keep talking and it'll be ten minutes."

He shut his mouth immediately, but the grin on his face didn't fade for even a second. Of course it wouldn't.

He had led her further down the quiet streets just beyond the school, the buzz of the busy roads echoing behind them. Suddenly, he turned into a narrow, sketchy pathway covered by dark walls and patched up windows.

"Okay, where the hell are we going?"

"You'll see, just trust me," Jaemin chirped, hopping over a puddle with the appearance of someone who probably believed in elves and the tooth fairy.

Y/N eyed the side of his face, as if analysing him, "You're like a golden retriever, and I don't mean that in a good way," she said, her tone dry, "Do you have this much energy even when you're in bed?"

Jaemin didn't miss a second, his lips curling into a smirk, "Depends who's in bed with me."

Y/N blinked, nearly choking on the last bit of juice, "You're disgusting."

"What?" he asked innocently, raising both hands in mock surrender, "You asked."

"And shameless," she muttered.

"And you're blushing," he shot back smugly.

She turned away quickly, muttering curses under her breath. The worst part was that he wasn't wrong… she was blushing.

However, when the path opened up to a skatepark, she was about to turn and walk in the opposite direction, until she saw a building to the right.

It was a planetarium, nestled at the far end of the park, hidden behind torn fences and overgrown trees, clearly abandoned. The soft, spring breeze weaved through the cracked windows and rustling dead leaves across the ground, making her anxious. It was silent, apart from the sharp creak of the iron gate as Jaemin kicked it open dramatically, letting her enter first.

"You're trespassing...," Y/N said nervously, yet still stepped past the gate.

"We are," Jaemin corrected, grinning as he didn't bother to shut the gate behind them, "You agreed to this, remember?"

She rolled her eyes, "I was coerced by grape juice."

Inside the planetarium was dark, where glimpses of sunlight flickered through the cracks of the walls. The air was coated in dust and old wood, the scent sharp in her throat — particles floated just like the glimmer of stars on the ceiling. The projector had sat in the centre, the lens still intact despite it rusting and coated in crumbling leaves and spider webs. But there was something almost... magical about this place, as though it carried many stories — a history.

"I used to come here a lot as a child," Jaemin said, his voice softer now, with a hint of nostalgia, "My dad used to work nearby, and he would take me after school sometimes. I mean... I loved the stars, it always intrigued me. I would just lie down right here and pretend they were real."

He lays down right in the middle of the dome, a softer, more pained smile gracing his lips as he saw the now faded stars that didn't seem to hold the same wonder it used to, "There was something so..."

"Magical," she voiced out her earlier thoughts, hesitantly laying down next to him.

He glanced over to see her looking up at the dimmed ceiling, the setting sun catching across her soft, pretty features, illuminating the curve of her cheekbone and the plushness of her lips. She looked oddly beautiful here, even in this run-down, shabby space. It was like she brought that same wonder back with just her presence alone.

"So this was your idea of a perfect date?" she asked finally, but her voice was gentle, tugging at his heartstrings.

"It's peaceful and there are no fairy lights in sight," he teased, "Besides, you'll ruin my date rating if you start judging my choices."

They lay in silence for a while, staring up at a ceiling that once reflected galaxies. Now, the real stars peeked through the gaps as the sun had finally set, fragmented and imperfect, fitting in like puzzle pieces against the fabricated lights.

"You asked me before if I ever stop smiling," Jaemin says, quietly, his eyes locked on the ceiling. He lies still under the watching gaze of the fading stars, "Just... when no one is around."

He lets out a breath that almost sounds like a bitter laugh, not reaching the crinkles of his eyes, "I think somewhere along the line, I decided that being the overly positive guy was who I was meant to be. If I kept people distracted by this- this image, no one would look close enough to see all the fragmented pieces. I wouldn't be a burden to others."

Y/N said nothing, biting her bottom lip.

"Sometimes it feels like… if I were to drop this act, people wouldn't know what to do with me," He turns his head slightly towards her, letting out a dry chuckle, "That I would be a handful. I'd come with all the baggage that overwhelms them."

Y/N felt her eyes glaze with tears, the brittle air pressing against her chest that made it feel almost suffocating. She hated how much she related to those words alone.

She shifts slightly on the cold floor, trying to make her voice sound neutral, "That sounds exhausting."

"I guess it is," Jaemin admits.

"I do understand, though," she responds, glancing at him, "With keeping up that image."

Her voice doesn't waver, but it had always been hard for her to be vulnerable as she never had the chance to with her own family, "It's weird. One day, conversation is easy, people are approachable and..."

He listens, his brows furrowing in focus.

"Being strong for everyone else meant having to lose a part of myself," She exhales shakily, her nails digging crescents into her palms, "And after a while, I stopped feeling like me. Now, it's like I'm just a shell and pushing people away is easier. You don't get hurt again."

Jaemin's fingers inch closer to her, his knuckles brushing along her hand and, when her pinky hooks around his, he can't help but to smile softly.

"Even so... I don't hate being around people," she whispers, "I don't hate being around you."

He feels his heart skip a beat and his eyes widen slightly when her soft gaze meets his. It was like he got a glimpse into the warmth beneath the grumbling girl, the gentle side of her that hid behind the protective wall. Her usual glaring, intense gaze was now soft and sweet, pupils big as they reflected the starry sky in them, drawing him in like a moth to a flame.

Jaemin quickly snaps his head away, bringing a hand over his mouth, hiding his flustered smile, "This is dangerous," he mumbles to himself. Every moment he spent with her was making it harder for him to be normal, not with his body getting hot, and her pretty eyes that watched him curiously.

"What's dangerous?" She asks, confused.

"You, Y/N," he breathes, meeting her gaze again, "you don't understand just how gorgeous you are, how you look at me like that and... the fact that you really are someone so warm and funny and smart. And there is so much more to you that I-"

He chuckled nervously, interlocking his hand with hers more boldly, "I love that you're different. That you trusted me enough to share a piece of yourself. I also want to be someone who would take away all the burdens you've been carrying. To help fill your cup with you, because you're perfect to me, and I want you to see that too."

"But why? You barely know me," she asked quietly.

"Because it's you. But also... do we even need a reason? I just want to."

Her heart beats loud in her ears and tears finally fall, startling Jaemin as he began to panic, worried he may have overstepped in some way. However, it felt like those were words she needed to hear, even if it were just scratching the surface of understanding her, and her understanding him. It felt like she had finally met someone who could. Who would try.

"Jaemin," she calls out to him, and he blinks in response just as she leans in before she could think. Before she could stop herself.

Y/N's lips press to his softly. It was hesitant and shy, but it felt right. Slowly, her fingers cup his jaw and Jaemin pauses. He had waited for this moment, waited for when he could finally get through the protective wall she built around herself. She pulls away and he immediately pulls her back in.

When her lips meet his again, it's messier, with her running her fingers through his hair, parting her lips to mould with his. He feels the urgency in her hands, and he lets out a quiet groan when she climbs onto his lap, knees on either side of his hips, yet never breaking the kiss.

Jaemin's palms settle at her waist, rubbing slow circles on her skin. He tries to control the pace, kissing her back slower, patiently, as he pulls away to catch his breath, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"Let me-" his voice is breathy and hoarse; chest heaving, "Let me take my time with you, Y/N. Please."

When her eyes search his, he continues with a softer tone, "You deserve as much."

She leans forward again, kissing him slow.

His hands curl over the back of her neck, the other still cupping her waist, pulling her in a little closer. It feels different this time, gentle and tender. Their mouths move quietly under the witness of the stars, like they're both trying to memorise what the other feels like.

Jaemin sighs softly against her lips when she subtly grinds against him, and he rests his forehead against hers.

"You don't have to rush anything with me, Y/N," he murmurs, "I'm not going anywhere."

"But I want this," she bites her lip, looking down at him. And that's all it takes for him to want to give in and give her everything she wants.

Jaemin's lips trail to her jaw, then down her neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses that make her heart flutter wildly. She whispers his name and he flips their positions so that she was under him now. His body hovers just above hers, brushing strands of her hair from her face.

He kisses her again, slowly at first, but the kiss deepens with each second. His hands slip beneath her soft jumper, fingers tracing along her waist and brushing just under the curve of her breast.

She arches into his touch when he cups her bra-clad breast, thumb swiping over her nipple. Her skin was warm and soft, paired with her sweet gasps, and he couldn't hold back any longer, pushing the jumper off of her.

"How could someone be so beautiful," he breathes out, his soft eyes delicately tracing over her frame as the subtle light of the moon hugged her skin. Her cheeks were flushed at the way he looked at her and, before she could feel any more shy, he connected his lips with hers again; tongue tracing the seam whilst his hands slipped under the lace, massaging her supple mounds.

Y/N tugged at his own hoodie, whining softly against his lips, to which he chuckled, sitting back to pull it off of him, not forgetting to place the clothing under her when he realised she was laying on the icy marble floor. Her cold, slender fingers cupped his jaw, trailing down his chest. It all felt unreal to the both of them; this moment under the stars. It was as though, under the moonlight, was her world. A glimpse into her inner warmth.

Soon, her jeans followed, his warm breath fanning against her inner thighs as his lips ghosted over the skin. He pressed gentle kisses slowly up, thumb finally grazing over her clothed clit which elicited a quiet moan from her. The moment he tugged her panties to the side, she knew what was coming and immediately gripped onto his hair in anticipation.

Jaemin's tongue licked a thick stripe up her folds and she shuddered. But he didn't stop there, picking up the pace. His humming against her had her cheeks flush. His warm breath and tongue guided her down the path towards ecstasy, hands pinning her thighs against his sprawled out hoodie. Each tug at the locks of his hair and the soft whines that left her lips, had Jaemin's control slip further, subtly grinding against the floor to find some sort of friction.

Y/N couldn't take it any more. Not his wet tongue that elicited lewd sounds from her lips, creating an erotic melody that layered with his eager licks and groans, paired with the squelching sounds as he finally pushed his fingers into her. Her eyes blurred as she stared at the stars, glimmering as he brought her to the edge. His fingers curled perfectly inside her, pressing against a bundle that made the thread snap, finally coming and coating his fingers with her release.

The sound he made when she shuddered beneath him; eyes rolling back, was so pretty, so guttural, she swore she could have come again right there and then.

"You're perfect, baby," he kissed the inside of her thigh before crawling up her writhing body, pressing another kiss to the corner of her mouth, "We don't have to go all the way tonight, if you don't want to."

Immediately, she shook her head, pulling him in for a lazy kiss, "Jaemin... I want to. I'm sure."

He swore he felt his cock twitch at that, but he shook it off, sitting back on the heels of his feet as he unbuttoned his jeans, kicking it off along with his boxers. But he cursed at himself when the realisation dawned on him, "I-I'm sorry, baby. I don't have a condom. I mean... I wasn't really expecting anything to come out of tonight." He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, though she almost didn't hear him, too entranced by the size of him, needing to shake herself out of it.

"If you're okay with not using one, I'm okay with it too," she said without hesitation, "I'm on the pill and... Well, I can get the morning after-" His soft chuckle had cut her words short, "You want me that bad, huh? Aren't you the same woman who was so eager to get rid of me earlier?"

Y/N grumbles under her breath, "Just shut up. Are you going to sleep with me or what? It's getting cold."

Jaemin shakes his head in amusement, hovering over her. The way he looks at her has her heart race; the affection that he doesn't bother to hide, the way his eyes are constantly flicking over her features as if etching them into memory, and the way he isn't quick with claiming her, always making sure she's okay and giving her time to back out. Slowly, she reaches up, cupping his jaw, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip.

"Fuck... do you know what you do to me?" He breathes out, nuzzling into her touch and placing a kiss to the inside of her hand.

Then, he slides his member through her folds, pushing into her inch by inch, pausing every time her brows furrow even slightly. Even when it was torturous for him, he put her first, waiting until the corners of her lips relaxed, and the space between her brows didn't crease.

Finally, when he was fully sheathed inside, and she had relaxed around him, he started to move, picking up the pace a little at a time, her sounds playing as the guide. She was perfect, fitting around him like a glove, wrapping her legs over his hips, rocking into him to feel him deeper, as if he wasn't close enough for her.

Jaemin rested his forehead against hers, his groans synchronised with her pretty moans, "God..." he breathed out, letting his hand cup her waist, fingers pressed into her dewy skin as he grinded into her.

Y/N grabbed onto whatever she could, moving to nestle into his neck, her warm breath and plush lips brushing over his pulse point, "Y-yes, Jaemin...," her nails dug into his back, toes curling at every rock of his hips, every push of his dick into her, had the stars on the ceiling feel brighter and all-consuming, "F-fuck."

Jaemin couldn't handle it, couldn't prolong her release any longer. He grabbed onto her thighs, pushing them out and up to angle his thrusts better. Then, he grabbed onto her wrists, pulling them towards him, sitting back on the balls of his feet as he picked up the pace, the sounds of skin slapping against skin was so dirty under the witness of the gleaming moonlight.

Her head rolled back, mouth agape as deep, throaty sounds escaped her. The moment she began to shudder, he knew he had made her come a second time, his own release following right after.

Jaemin collapsed on top of her, his large frame burying her in warmth as she let out a lazy giggle, snuggling into him, "That was..."

"Amazing? I know."

She smacked his shoulder playfully, "You're so cocky. For all you know, I could have been about to say that it was mediocre, or abysmal, or-"

"Or the hottest thing ever," Jaemin pressed a kiss under her jaw, rolling off of her to grab the sleeve of his hoodie that still nestled under her figure, wiping away at the inside of her thighs.

Just then, a flashlight peeked through the hallway just outside the door. Immediately, the pair glanced at each other, Jaemin muttered a loud 'shit', before quickly slipping on his boxers and jeans, and she chucked his hoodie at him, throwing her own clothes back on — barely.

"We gotta go, now," Jaemin grabbed at her wrist before she could put her jeans and shoes on, darting out the back just as the security guard opened the door, yelling a 'who's there?'

As soon as they made it out of the planetarium and into the chilly night air, out of breath and barely able to stand up straight, Jaemin and Y/N let out a chuckle that sounded more like relief, finally bursting into a fit of laughter, barely able to keep their balance. She used that time to slip on her jeans and shoes, elbowing Jaemin, "We almost got arrested. You sure this is still a good date spot?"

Jaemin raised an amused brow at her, catching his breath after laughing, shrugging, "I just bagged the most perfect, smartest, and most unattainable woman in there. I'd say it's the date spot."

Y/N rolled her eyes, interlocking her fingers with his as she led him back onto the main street, "You better not bring anyone but me."

Jaemin stopped in his tracks, turning her around to face him as he held onto both of her hands, his face serious, "Of course. It's only ever been you, Y/N. I know we've only been on just one date and I know I get on your nerves, and that I barely carried any weight on that science project," he let out an embarrassed chuckle, "But I want to be your boyfriend, if you'll let me. Just know that I'll spoil you like crazy, because we both know that I'm the one who is down bad, who is so madly in love I can't think straight in your presence. I know it's only been a short while, but sometimes it just clicks and it clicked with you, Y/N. It clicked perfectly."

She couldn't stifle a wide smile, her eyes glazing over as she nodded eagerly, squeezing his hands tightly, "I can't say it's love just yet I... I need time, but I do like you, a lot and, I want to give us a try. I'll let you be my boyfriend."

Jaemin didn't realise he was holding his breath, letting out a sigh of relief, "I'm not expecting you to feel anything more than that, Y/N. That's more than enough for me, more than I can ask for or feel worthy of."

She tutted at him, sending him a playfully annoyed expression, "You're worthy of a lot more than you give yourself credit for, Jaemin."

6 months later...

"Haechan, don't be a brat, I told you to put the candles on the candle holders before placing them on the cake," Y/N scowled at the male, who only shrugged in response.

"You really don't need candle holders for this, he'll blow the candles out in like... two seconds. No wax will drip on the cake," He swiped his finger over the frosting, licking it off which had her smack his shoulder.

Renjun let out a frustrated sigh at their usual bickering, shoving Haechan to the side and placing the candles on the toppers, "Stop being difficult, Haechan. This isn't your event."

Haechan grumbled, crossing his arms as he leant against the fridge, "You guys need to get a DNA test, it's crazy how similar you both are."

Chenle, who was still wearing sunglasses indoors, peers up from his phone after watching the tracking map, seeing Jaemin's icon pulling up to the apartment, "Guys, he's almost here, stop fighting."

Y/N quickly scrambles to grab the cake, causing Renjun to whine, "Careful, this will all go to waste if you drop it!"

She sticks her tongue out at him, slipping the cake into her hands as she moves to stand in front of the door, "Okay, as soon as you hear the elevator, light the candles. Don't mess this up!"

Haechan grabs the lighter from the counter, standing next to her as he angles it just above the first candle, "Yes, ma'am. Wouldn't want the leader of the underworld to beat my ass."

She sends him a glare, kicking his leg which causes him to yelp, "I am not Hades!"

"Well, Hades would have kicked my leg too!"

"Because you deserved it!"

Chenle, who was now standing in front of the door, jumps in surprise when he hears the elevator ding, "Guys, shut up, he's here!"

Haechan, about to clap back at her, quickly lights the candles, struggling with the last one until it finally burns a flame into the thread just in time for the front door to open. Renjun could have sworn he almost had a heart attack from the way their whole surprise could have gone bust.

As soon as Jaemin steps inside, the quartet broke into song, singing happy birthday to the male who never would have expected a surprise from the people who meant the most to him. A smile tugged at his lips, his toothy grin wide as he finally met the gaze of the most beautiful woman in his eyes. He knew it was her idea, that she brought them here for him, even though it had taken a while for them to all grow close.

When the song ends, Jaemin's eyes flutter closed to make his wish, blowing out the candles, causing everyone to cheer. Haechan ruffles Jaemin's hair, Chenle claps his back, and Renjun gives him a curt nod and birthday wishes, taking the cake from Y/N's hands before the three of them move to the living room, preparing to hand him the presents.

Jaemin doesn't stop smiling at her, pulling her into a tight hug, his nose nestling into her hair, "Thank you for organising all of this, Y/N... It means the world."

She chuckles, "Of course, I knew how much it would mean to you. I'm just surprised I could get everything ready in time, knowing how easily the four of us bicker."

Jaemin chuckled, pulling back to meet her gaze, "Am I the luckiest man ever? I think I am."

She snorts, rolling her eyes, "You're so annoying. This is why I love you."

Jaemin paused, his eyes widening slightly as the words finally registered, "You..."

When she realised why he had been shocked, she shakes her head in amusement, pulling him in for a sweet kiss, nipping at his bottom lip as she pulled back, "I love you, Jaemin. I was just waiting for the right time to say it."

The three men hollered from the living room, but Jaemin let those sounds drown out, cupping her cheeks with the palms of his hands as he pulled her back in for another kiss, parting his lips against hers, tugging at the plush skin as he smiled into her mouth, "I love you too, Y/N."

Jaemin looked around at the group with furrowed brows. “Whatever is going on, can we stop it and just have our coffee and sandwiches like normal? Why am I being targeted for the amount of fun I’m having? You’ve all had your fair share of fun, too.” 

Jeno let out a small laugh at Jaemin’s defense. “Yeah, but we aren’t nicknamed the campus fuckboy. Plus, we’ve all been in actual relationships during our time in college.” 

Jaemin’s face drops, no longer interested at all in the conversation they were clearly wanting to have. “I could be in a relationship if I wanted to be, I just don’t want to,” he’s quick to mutter in reply. 

“Why not?” Renjun asks, raising his eyebrows in wait.

Jaemin lets out a scoff. “All that love and commitment is stupid. You guys put so much effort into your previous relationships and yet, we’re all currently sitting at this table single. There’s no one who makes me want to even try being in a relationship. Why would I want to risk wasting all that effort on someone?”

His six best friends eyed each other around the table, either not buying it or not caring. “Look man,” Mark starts, getting Jaemin to turn his attention over to him. “Regardless of how you feel about love, Haechan is tired of listening to you and whatever girl you bring home that night…and he’s especially tired of it always being a different girl to walk in on him while he’s singing in the kitchen making breakfast. So, to maybe help him out, and also to test your ability because honestly, I don’t know if any of us think you’re capable…in the nicest way possible, of course. We wanna propose a bet- or a deal is probably the better word for it.” Jaemin shoots his gaze over to the rest of them, but no one bore a look of amusement, they were all curiously locked in. “If you can get a girlfriend and settle down for at least three months, we’ll give you $600.”

Well originally, Jaemin had no interest in any part of this, but if everything worked out the way his brain was planning it, that $600 could potentially be easy cash…not to mention a lot of it.

“I’m in,” he pipes up immediately, truthfully stunning his best friends at the table. Nevertheless, they all shake on it, and then Jaemin only has one thing to do…after finishing his coffee and sandwich, of course.

One day later, you get a text from Jaemin. Free to catch up today? Your cheeks blush warmly at the message. It wasn’t anything special, but after being glued to each other’s sides during high school, college saw you and Jaemin having considerably less time for each other; so it was always nice to see you were still a thought in his mind because truly, you missed your best friend like no other. 

Free to catch up everyday :)) You respond, and Jaemin’s reply comes instantaneously.

Perfect ;) meet you at the café in two hours

You check the clock before mapping out how you would spend all your time in between now and then, quickly deciding most of it should be directed towards making yourself look presentable, seeing as you’ve done nothing but rot in bed all morning.

Fast forward two hours and you were already sitting at one of the café tables when the bell rang as Jaemin walked through the door. He scans the inside before his eyes find you and he lights up. “Hi, best friend!” He says overenthusiastically as he pulls out the chair across from you. You furrow your brows at his tone, not to mention his usage of ‘best friend,’ when you think you remember Jaemin calling you that only once before when you were both still in high school, and had since never labeled you like that again - not that it was an incorrect label, but one that he typically didn’t make a huge deal about unless…

“Oh, god,” you start sarcastically. “What mess did you get yourself into now?”

“Hey!” Jaemin shoots back in mock hurt, moving a hand over his heart as if you’ve just shot him. You let out a light laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Sorry, Jaem, please continue.”

He immediately ducks his head to face his lap, his tone bearing a fraction of the force it previously had. “Okay so, I got myself into a mess.” You can’t help the genuine laugh that escapes you as you shake your head. Jaemin whips his head up to face you in response, but as you manage to stop your laughter, all you can do is meet his gaze with a softness in your eyes that perfectly balanced the playful smirk on your lips.

“I’ve missed you a lot, you know,” you respond, and Jaemin rolls his lips inward to try and stop the smile as he directs his gaze somewhere off to the side. 

“Yeah, hoping you’re still thinking that after I explain,” he replies hesitantly, and your face falls in an instant.

“You got me into a mess?!” You ask in disbelief, and Jaemin lets out a light sigh.

“Not yet, but that’s kind of the goal,” he answers, scrunching up his facial features as he waits for your reprimanding. Though it never comes, and instead, you speak plainly through a sigh.

“An explanation needs to come out of your mouth in three, two-”

Jaemin curls himself into a ball as best he can while sitting in the café chair, wanting some kind of physical defense before explaining himself in a rush. “I need us to fake date for three months so can you please please please be my fake girlfriend?” When he doesn’t get coffee thrown at him, he takes a moment to unfurl himself and look over at you again, his gaze met with your indifferent expression. 

“Why?” You ask neutrally, and it seems to finally hit Jaemin that you were still the same sane, comforting presence you always had been, even if the two of you hadn’t properly hung out in over a year. He settles more decidedly into his chair, though he still frames his words through a lens of embarrassment, figuring that might be the best way to get you to agree - if you knew he knew he was stupid.

“$600 and to prove something to my friends,” he replies, his words light but his demeanor dead serious.

“And why me?” You toss back, causing Jaemin to roll his eyes as he throws his gaze off to the side again with a scoff. 

“Cause every other girl I know has a crush on me and it’d make this very weird. I’m not trying to actually be in a relationship. That’s the last thing I want.” His words this time are firm enough to match his demeanor, and it has you taking a sip of your coffee to fight back the awkwardness you would’ve otherwise choked on. 

“...Right,” you say in agreement, because out of all the times you could come clean about your huge crush on your best friend, right after he tells you that he doesn’t want a relationship is probably the worst time to do so. 

“So?” Jaemin inquires hopefully, snapping you out of your thoughts. You flick your gaze up to him before immediately darting it back to your coffee on the table, one of your hands messing with the straw absentmindedly. Then you give in, because you suck at saying ‘no’ to your best friend.

“...Fine, but then we’re making a contract,” you say plainly, swirling the ice around in your americano. Jaemin lets out something like a laugh, shaking his head.

“Y/n, you’re taking this so seriously-” He starts, but you whip your head back up to him in an instant, cutting him off with sincerity. 

“They’ll see right through it if we don’t,” you state, and you watch Jaemin’s adam's apple bob up and down in his throat as he swallows awkwardly. 

He shakes out of it before putting his hands up in defeat. “Okay, whatever. Go ahead,” he replies, disinterested. You roll your eyes, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen from your backpack. Then you get to writing, because you were gonna need to set some intense boundaries if you were hoping to make it out of this alive. 

“Alright, I think this should be good for right now,” you say after a few minutes, sliding the piece of paper his way. He takes one glance at it before letting out a laugh and directing his gaze back to you with raised brows.

“‘No kissing?’ I don’t mean to alarm you, but that’s actually the quickest way for them to see right through it,” he quips. You run your fingers through your hair awkwardly as you dodge his gaze, finally nodding your head with a sigh. 

“Okay fine, we can change it. No kissing unless they bring it up or get suspicious. Good?” You ask, finally looking up at him again. He lets an amused smile paint its way across his lips as he stares at you across the table.

“Ha, we’ll keep it for now,” he agrees before turning his attention back to the paper and looking over the next thing you wrote. “‘No weird nicknames?’” He reads, popping his head back up to look at you for clarification. You roll your eyes, slightly embarrassed. 

“Yeah, like sugar, pumpkin, honey, buttercup, sweetie, sweetheart, cutie pie, baby, babe, darling-” You’re cut off by a genuine laugh from Jaemin, helping you realize you’ve missed the sound of it a lot, and not at all helping the awkward situation you’ve gotten yourself into. 

“Okay, you’re just naming every pet name imaginable,” he counters as though you were crazy. 

You roll your lips inward, hesitating on how to respond before opting with a near-whisper. “I don’t like them,” you admit quietly, and Jaemin’s demeanor falls from playful to understanding. He opens his mouth to reply but closes it again before any words get out, instead taking another moment to think. 

“They’re gonna expect me to call you something,” he finally says, speaking as though it were an apology. 

You sigh, knowing he wasn’t lying. Idly messing with your hands, you reply quietly. “...are they gonna expect me to call you something, too?” You ask, and Jaemin contemplates with a sorry nod.

“Yeah, probably. Look, you can call me whatever you’re comfortable with, and if that’s just ‘Jaem,’ that’s fine.”

A more lenient answer than you were expecting, you shoot your head up to look back at him again, though your brows slightly furrow as you address the part he didn’t. “What about you?”

Jaemin lets out a soft sigh. “How about I just limit my usage of pet names, and I won’t call you anything food-related,” he suggests lightly, figuring those nicknames having made up your first seven examples meant you hated them the most. You roll your eyes but a smile crosses your face regardless because he was right, after all…and caring enough to actually realize that.

“I can live with that,” you relent, and a big grin comes back onto Jaemin’s face at the progress. He moves his attention back towards the contract, but immediately is whipping his gaze back to you in hurt. 

“Why can’t I be the one to break it off?” He pouts, and you have half a mind to laugh, but you know he’s serious. 

“If you date me for exactly three months and then break up with me, no matter how believable we make it, they’re either going to know it was set up or they’re going to assume you learned nothing and probably not give you the money,” you explain, and Jaemin’s pout turns into an impressed nod.

“You have a point…” He breathes out, causing you to smirk.

“I know.” 

He bites on his bottom lip, deep in thought before turning back to you again. “We probably shouldn’t date for exactly three months then, either,” he adds, and you flash your eyebrows in recognition.

“That’s also true,” you say before putting together a calendar in your head. “Well, if today’s September 27th, three months is December 27th, so…we could have New Year’s Eve be our last night together?” You suggest awkwardly. Though, when you look back up towards Jaemin, he’s putting your timeline together with a nod.

“Works for me,” he cedes, scribbling your end date somewhere off to the side before continuing to scan down the list. His next question comes with the very last bullet point on the contract. “‘Come home with me for Christmas dinner?’” He reads before looking up at you in confusion. You shake your head with a laugh.

“Well, you didn’t think I’d do this for nothing in return, did you?”

Jaemin flashes his eyebrows in acknowledgement. “Okay…so why Christmas dinner?” He asks, and you drop your gaze back to your coffee. 

“My family keeps riding my ass about not having a boyfriend. If you come back with me and pretend to be my boyfriend there, too, then even when we end things, they’ll at least be off my case for a while,” you admit, embarrassment tainting your voice before you rush to make the request sound more appealing. “And it’s not actual Christmas dinner! It’s that first weekend after finals week. You remember the big dinner we always had with other family friends and all that,” you drag off with an awkward laugh.

“Okay,” Jaemin agrees immediately, and you look back up at him in shock.

“Really? You’re agreeing to that?” You question, but he just shrugs his shoulders. 

“Y/n, you’re getting me $600, the least I can do is one dinner with your family. Besides, they’re practically my second set of parents. I’m pretty sure I had at least a hundred dinners with them during high school,” he jokes, and the tension in your shoulders falls. You guys were really doing this…all of this. The two of you left the café and parted ways soon after agreeing to the terms of the contract, Jaemin feeling $600 richer already with how easy this was going to be.

Jaemin picked you up from class on the first day you would be meeting his friends, five days after the two of you signed your contract to fake-date. He greets you with an easy smile outside of your classroom door. “Hey, you ready?” He asks, and you send a nervous smile back up at him. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” you reply with a laugh. He flashes his eyebrows in acknowledgement, feeling much the same way seeing as this was probably the least conventional thing he’s ever done. 

He leads you outside and towards the guys’ regular lunch spot at one of the tables set up in the campus commons. Jaemin had told his friends beforehand that he had gone and gotten himself a girlfriend and thus, to start the three month timer, and they were the ones who begged him to bring you to one of the lunches so they could meet you, and now here you were - walking casually towards the lunch table with Jaemin…too casually, Chenle noticed, because you weren’t even holding hands. He keeps quiet, but lets an easy smirk come across his face as you and Jaemin sit down next to each other. 

“Alright, guys,” Jaemin starts as the rest of the friend group pins their full attention on you. “This is y/n. My girlfriend,” he says with a smile. The label sends ice through your veins. You could not believe Na Jaemin was introducing you as his girlfriend…it didn’t matter that the label was fake, the words sounded real coming out of his mouth. You turn your head to look at him, as if to get some kind of confirmation that it really was Jaemin next to you, calling you his girlfriend. By the time your gaze reaches him, he’s already looking over at you with a cheesy grin, nudging your side playfully with his arm and getting you to relax a little. 

The guys go around introducing themselves, but as they make their full way around the table, Jeno immediately speaks up.

“So, how did the two of you get together?” He asks curiously. A valid question, which is why the guys all lean forward in interest, because of course they would be dying to know how their fuckboy best friend got an actual girlfriend rather than a hookup. It was a horrible question though, because it was one you forgot would ever come up, and you had no game plan to go about answering this. Though, it seemed all you had to worry about was keeping your eyes from going wide, because Jaemin did have a game plan for this, and he answered smoothly.

“I just asked her out,” he says with a shrug. “It’s always been so easy with y/n, I take it for granted most of the time. Every time I’m with her, I’m reminded that it takes no effort to breathe, that I’m standing on solid ground. We met up for coffee the other day and she said she missed me and I-” He falters for a moment, and you finally bring your gaze up from your lap to face Jaemin, just to see him shake his head as if he were breaking himself out of a nostalgia trip. “I wanted to hear that again and again,” he finally says seriously, and you can’t stop the smile from reaching your face. “So, though now it just sounds embarrassing saying it out loud, I straight up asked her to be my girlfriend right after that,” he adds through a laugh. “I had been waiting for the butterflies that everyone always talks about, but the fact that I’ve never really felt that with her just made me more sure I wanna be with her - there’s no discomfort or anxiety,” he says, and with your head ducked back in to face your lap, you miss it when he turns to look at you softly. “She’s just always felt like home.” 

Jaemin’s answer seems to have done its job in convincing everyone, and it definitely did its job in reminding you that you were in deep trouble. Though, as the rest of the guys take in Jaemin’s words with an impressed nod, Mark tries to fill in his holes. “Wait, how long have you known each other?” He asks, which was another valid question seeing as Jaemin talked about you with history even though you had never met his friend group before.

“We’ve been friends since high school,” Jaemin says coolly, though this time, you’re the one to nudge him with a laugh.

“Best friends,” you add teasingly, and Jaemin chuckles as he looks over at your figure before nodding his head.

“Yeah, best friends,” he agrees fondly. “But, I’ve liked her for a while now,” he says, turning back towards the group as his face falls and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I just- obviously have the image that I do and I never wanted to get her tied up in it. She deserves more than being labeled as some fuckboy’s latest infatuation,” he says, and as you furrow your brows at him, he just shakes his head, moving on with a light smile. “Though, obviously, I saw her last week and couldn’t help it anymore.”

Sorry smiles cross most of the guys’ faces - they were no help when it came to keeping labels away from Jaemin, and he was sure putting on a convincing show, making it almost seem like it was their fault the two of you hadn’t already gotten together. 

Haechan swings his gaze over to you with raised eyebrows, shifting gears to try and not to let the dampened mood actually settle in. “And you? How long have you liked him?” He asks, and you have to stop the laugh from leaving your system. Instead, you just shake your head fondly.

“Forever,” you answer truthfully, turning to face Jaemin before immediately pulling your gaze back down to your lap in embarrassment. “Any girl will tell you, it’s impossible not to fall for Na Jaemin.” At this, all the guys roll their eyes, but Jaemin just turns to study you softly, biting on his bottom lip in contemplation as he tries to sort out whether any part of your statement was true or if you were just really good at acting.

However, with the rumbling of Jisung’s stomach, he quickly discards the topic of you and Jaemin, deciding that after all the intro questions were out of the way, food was much more interesting. The guys laugh along as Jisung rips through his paper bag lunch, but it does its job in getting them to focus on their own food in front of them, too. 

Casual conversation occurred over lunch, and you were pleasantly surprised to find it wasn’t awkward at all. Not that you were expecting the guys to be awkward with each other, but you typically weren’t great at meeting new people; and now you were meeting six of them at once, somehow fitting right in, your occasional remarks causing the whole table to laugh - something you’d have to pat yourself on the back for later. The only disturbance comes from Chenle, who had begun leaning way back from the table, carefully balancing his weight on the bench as he seems to examine the ground by your feet. 

The entire friend group eventually catches on to his antics, turning their attention towards him with raised eyebrows. “What are you doing?” Renjun finally asks, the question coming out as though he thought Chenle were crazy…which probably wasn’t too far from his actual stance on the matter.

Chenle shakes his head, pulling himself back into a normal sitting position as he locks his gaze onto you and Jaemin. “Don’t most couples have a hand placed on the other’s thigh or something while sitting? Why are you guys like- a foot away from each other?” He asks plainly. Your face drops and your eyes widen.

“We are not a foot away from each other,” you remark firmly, but then Jisung peaks beneath the table as well, pulling back up with a shrug.

“Uh, you kinda are,” he says, causing Jaemin to roll his eyes.

“Didn’t think you guys were big pda enthusiasts,” he says, trying to laugh it off, but Chenle is relentless.

“Have you kissed yet?” He asks immediately, and you almost choke.

“What?!” You return in shock, but Chenle looks between the two of you with uninterested brows.

“You’ve liked each other for forever and you’re this awkward?” He shoots back in a taunt. You sigh, collecting yourself because you knew what you were about to have to do. 

“You’re right, Jaem,” you say, pulling his attention your way as you place a hand on his cheek and smile in disbelief. “Your friends are annoying,” you continue, and then you lean in and kiss your best friend and long time crush. 

Admittedly, you’ve imagined this moment more times than you could count, but none of those fantasies could have prepared you for what it actually felt like to kiss Na Jaemin. His lips were perfect, he was perfect, and you knew that already but now you felt it. You remind yourself of where you’re at, why you’re kissing him in the first place, and bring yourself to pull back after the one soft kiss, trying your best to make it seem as though that alone didn’t cause you to lose your breath.

As the two of you pull away from each other, Jaemin’s gaze locks on you, running over every inch of your face with an unreadable look in his eyes to contrast the softest of smiles on his lips. “Yeah, angel, they are,” he says through an exhale, and as your face goes completely pink, his smile eases into a familiar smirk. “But if you kiss me every time they piss you off, I might have to have them stick around.” 

You roll your eyes, nudging him in the side again as you focus on the playful banter and not on the fact that Jaemin just rewired your brain chemistry with one ‘angel.’ “Whatever, we both know I kiss you all the time anyways,” you tease, but as you try to shift away again, Jaemin catches your hand in his and looks at you as if you were crazy.

“No, I kiss you all the time,” he rushes to correct, and though you whip your head back to face him in offense, your eyes instantly soften upon contact, a tight smile playing at both of your features instead.

Your only thought was to kiss him again, and you’re thankful when Chenle cuts off any chance of that happening. “What is going on?” He asks in disgust, causing Renjun to laugh and shake his head.

“Hey, you were the one jumping their asses for their lack of public romance. This is your fault.” 

With the conclusion of lunch, Jaemin kept you company on the walk back to your dorm. As soon as you’re out of sight from the rest of the guys, you let out a heavy sigh and accompanying drop of your shoulders. “Well, there goes rule number one…” You say in defeat. If you couldn’t even follow the first rule during your first outing as a ‘couple,’ the rest of these three months were not going to bode well for you. 

Instead of matching your demeanor, Jaemin takes offense. “What, no! We changed rule number one to no kissing unless they brought it up or were suspicious, and they both, brought it up and were suspicious,” he claims firmly, but the playful tone underlying his words makes it so that all you can do is let out a small, wry laugh.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” you say with a shake of your head, though the smile has made its reappearance on your face. Next to you, Jaemin stops walking, pausing for a moment as he stares at the pavement beneath your feet. As soon as you notice his absence at your side, you turn back around to face him and his small grimace.

“Thank you, by the way,” he says gently, and any remaining tension you were carrying falls away; because any time Jaemin fell softer, you were reminded of how you’d do anything for your best friend. “I don’t know if I really thanked you for letting me talk you into this. I know it’s stupid, but it’s nice to have them attacking me for whether or not I’ve kissed you rather than attacking me for my body count,” he finishes, and it feels as though all your joints had immediately locked up again. 

Jaemin’s title as the campus fuckboy was not lost on you, but talking about anything close to relationships was never a strong suit for you guys; and with him quickly finding his place within a new friend group here at college, it meant you were even less in the know of his whereabouts on any given day. The last thing you were expecting was for Jaemin to keep you updated on who he just fucked, but the entire realm of conversation was always so unreachable for you two. You knew nothing of what the campus fuckboy was truly getting up to; there was sometimes talk in your class when a girl would come in beaming as she told her friends she managed to spend a night with Jaemin, but instances like that were all you got informed by, and you never dared pry deeper into those overheard conversations. 

Sometimes your jealousy would damn near kill you - all these girls boasting about the fact that they had spent a night with Jaemin…you wanted to turn around half the time and tell them to forget about one night because you’ve spent countless days with him; that your entire high school career was covered in his handprints and bright smile which you were sure was laced with drugs - a smile you knew he wasn’t throwing around in the bedroom. 

You never did snap, though, because it was easier to keep your ‘best friend’ label with Jaemin under the radar at college, unless you wished for tens upon hundreds of girls to line up in front of you and ask your advice on how to win his heart. Jokes on them, you were still figuring that out, yourself.

“What is your body count?” You ask with a hesitant swallow, your curiosity getting the better of you now that he’s finally brought it up. 

Jaemin shoots his head up to face you but instantly dodges your eye contact again. For the first time since you’ve met him, he looks genuinely embarrassed. “Another time, y/n,” he says in soft dismissal.

You swallow harshly, in disbelief at what you were about to tell him, but as much as it would sting, it would keep your own feelings at a very needed bay. “If you still want to have sex, you can. I don’t mean to force you into celibacy. Just make sure it’s at the girl’s house so Haechan doesn’t find out,” you say lowly, and Jaemin immediately makes wide eye contact with you.

“Really?” He asks in something like shock. You act as though it’s no big thing, and you’re sure it probably shouldn’t be, anyways.

“Yeah,” you respond with a shrug.

Jaemin takes in your words with a contemplative head nod, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth before his eyes light up in alert, finding another caveat to address. “What do we do if the girl starts talking about the fact that she hooked up with me?” He asks seriously, but you’ve finally found humor in the situation, shaking your head as though there were hardly a need for the question. 

“Jaem, just about every girl wants to sleep with you, or at least make it seem like she did…a random girl claiming to have hooked up with you one day is just going to sound like she’s desperate for attention. No one’s gonna take it seriously,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes. Absolutely nothing you said was wrong, and with a deep breath, Jaemin seems to accept that fact.

As he exhales, he resumes his continuation on the walk back to your dorm, a light nod of his head accompanying his next words. “Okay. Thank you-” His casual start is broken as he turns his head back over to you at his side in question. “Are you gonna be okay? Are you gonna like- hook up- uh…with other guys?” He asks curiously. All you can do is laugh at him.

“Casual hookups aren’t my thing and no way am I getting an actual boyfriend while we’re doing this, but of course I’ll be okay. I’m pretty sure your sex drive is at least ten times greater than mine. I can handle three months,” you reply lightly, and seemingly all of Jaemin’s worries about this new implementation fade away - it seemed perfectly doable without getting caught. 

As you get to your dorm entrance, you and Jaemin turn to fully face each other. “Thanks again for today. I think we got them somewhat convinced,” he says through a small laugh, and you flash your eyebrows in acknowledgement. 

“No reason to thank me for that - you did most of the talking,” you rebuttal playfully. 

Jaemin’s laugh turns into a knowing smirk. “You were the one who kissed me,” he teases, and you shake your head, but a wide grin spreads across your lips, regardless.

“It's not my fault that they both, brought it up and were suspicious,” you remind him, putting your hands up in defense. Jaemin takes a moment to laugh again before settling into a more fond look that was reminiscent of your high school days.

“We’re gonna have to start hanging out more again since they think we’re dating, but even before all that, I think it’d make me happy if we started hanging out more again just cause I’ve missed you…and I know it’s my fault we haven’t talked as often! I got a friend group of guys and an- agenda…with girls, and as such, my entire college career up to now has unfolded in that way. But I miss you because you’ve always been my friend, not because of some agenda or fake-dating scheme.”

“Mmmmmm, best friend,” you correct with a sure smirk, making Jaemin drop his head with a laugh of defeat.

“Yeah, best friend,” he cedes, and your smirk turns into a soft smile. 

“I never do anything, so just text me when you wanna hang. I’ll be there.” 

He looks back up at you with a small grin and a nod. “Same goes for you,” he replies. Then, all that was left was saying ‘goodbye’ in a much more awkward way than usual, before you went back up to your room to decompress from whatever the hell just happened. 

It was a week after that first lunch when you were alone and bored in your dorm. None of the guys mentioned anything about having plans for the weekend while at lunch, which you had begun to join in on every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. So, although you just saw him, you figured Jaemin wouldn’t have anything better to do than hang out with you some more today. You shoot your gaze over to the clock, agreeing there was more than enough time left in the day to make a hang out worth it, and then grabbing your phone to text Jaemin.

Hey, I’m bored. Wanna do something? You send, and Jaemin’s reply is instantaneous.

With a girl rn

For a text that’s letting you know he’s following your directions, it hurts more than you thought it would to read. You know it’s for the best that this be your reality. Jaemin had been your best friend for so long now, the last thing you wanted was to ruin that with your feelings; and while fake-dating wasn’t helping, this reality-check definitely did. He’s not just your best friend anymore, he’s the campus’ heartthrob…the campus’ fuckboy. It was the entire reason behind the bet his friends made in the first place - a circumstance like this was only expected. So, you’d have to forget about the hollow feeling in your stomach right now and instead support your best friend in a best friend way, cause no matter how many times in the next three months he’s destined to call you ‘angel’ or look over at you softly every time you talk in the group, ‘best friends’ is all you are to each other. Oh, look at you go! I figure I’m your alibi, so I guess I’ll stay in for the rest of the night so there’s no possibility of one of your friends seeing me

His reply this time took about thirty minutes to get to you, and even his last text didn’t prepare you for the brick wall that faced you with this one. Thanks 

Jaemin isn’t selfish, Jaemin is busy. It’s the mantra you kept repeating to yourself, because you know he’s not selfish; and while you were expecting a reply more aligned with an apology for forcing your Friday night to be spent indoors and alone, taking the time to text that out probably was not something Jaemin could manage while another girl was surely sucking him off. 

The next Thursday, it’s Jaemin’s idea to hang out after classes. The two of you decided to chill at your place so that you didn’t have to constantly pretend around Haechan, should he be in their apartment. As you swing the door open to Jaemin’s presence, he looks at you with a big grin on his face. “Hey, angel,” he says, patting the top of your head as he walks into your dorm. You track his figure deeper into the living area, looking at him quizzically because the whole purpose of him being here was that he didn’t have to call you ‘angel.’ 

You just shake your head with a smile as he plops down on your couch. “Hey, Jaem.” 

He looks up at you with innocent eyes. “What did you want to do tonight?” He asks, and you shrug your shoulders with a laugh.

“You’re the one who wanted to come over; my plan was to do homework.” Your answer has Jaemin’s face falling, and you watch as he gets up from the couch and immediately walks out the door, leaving you completely dumbfounded. You didn’t think homework was that repulsive to him. Though, moments later, there’s another knock on your door, and you answer it to be met with Jaemin again, this time his own backpack slung across his shoulders. “Wha-?” You question with a laugh of disbelief.

Jaemin sends a smirk your way before once again walking past you and towards the couch, immediately unzipping his backpack and placing its contents on the coffee table. “Homework,” he says casually, looking up at you with raised brows and a smirk. “Best friend, fake girlfriend, study buddy…you get all the fun labels,” he teases, causing you to shake your head before relenting and joining him at the coffee table. 

It was an incredibly normal night. After the two of you finished up the last of your assignments - though getting distracted every five or so minutes with stupid jokes, complaints of coursework, or a sudden remembering of a story that needed telling did not help push things along, the two of you watched a movie. You ended up making hot cocoa, because the privilege of thermostats meant that it wasn’t a crazy option, regardless of the outside temperature, and then sat on the recliner, Jaemin taking up considerably more space on the couch in response. 

The two of you had always been good movie watchers with each other. You both liked to enjoy movies in the same way - the lights off, no talking, no distractions from phones…even if it was a movie you had seen a hundred times. The two of you took movie nights seriously, mainly because with each other, you could. At least, you had yet to find anyone else who would sit and watch Coraline with you and not take a break to say something about how they find it creepy or flatout don’t like the movie when it’s not even halfway over. Though, Jaemin always happily watched, saving his only comments (typically about how “they just don’t make movies like that anymore”) for the credits. 

Just like that, it was like a night from high school, and it ended much the same way - a side hug with Jaemin and his promises of getting home safe, though it was you rather than your mother that he was making that promise to now. 

Walking back into his apartment, Jaemin immediately catches the attention of Haechan, currently making late night ramen in the kitchen. “Did you just get back from y/n’s?” He asks, pulling his attention away from the stove to turn his head towards Jaemin.

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers casually as he makes his trek through the front space and towards his room, only getting distracted when Haechan speaks up again with a playful lilt and a matching smirk on his face.

“Good night?” He asks, causing Jaemin to furrow his brows before realizing what Haechan was actually getting at. 

“What-? Oh, shut up,” he dismisses. Turning back around to face Haechan revealed him to be completely distracted from his ramen - his back now leaning against the countertop as his casual crossed arms added to the tease in his raised eyebrow. Jaemin rolls his eyes at the antics, especially considering Haechan was the main reason this whole deal was made in the first place - because he was tired of Jaemin having sex. “We didn’t have sex. We did normal couple things,” he states confidently before turning around again to actually make his way inside his room and behind his closed bedroom door. 

This meant Jaemin missed the way Haechan’s playful brows furrowed in confusion, his face falling flatter as he spoke through a soft exhale. “What?” Any more time he could have had to actually question it was overridden with the need to tend to his now boiling over ramen; so Jaemin got off easy the rest of the night. 

Haechan was not as forgiving the next time he saw the guys at Monday lunch, though. With you still nowhere to be seen and Jaemin in his line of sight ordering food, he addresses everything in a more serious tone than any of the guys were expecting. 

“Does anyone else find it odd that they haven’t had sex yet?”

Eyes go wide at the rest of the table. “They haven’t?!” Jeno practically shouts before immediately getting embarrassed and making himself as small as possible. Haechan just shakes his head.

“They haven’t even spent the night at each other’s places yet. He always comes back home after hanging out with her and it’s always just him.”

“Maybe they’re taking it slow,” Mark replies with a shrug, but all eyes lock on him with ample skepticism. 

“Does ‘slow’ seem like a Jaemin thing?” Haechan rebuttals. “I mean, come on. We’re talking about the guy who’s notorious for getting his dick wet at any available opportunity.”

“So, we think they don't really like each other? They’re faking it?” Renjun asks with pursed contemplative lips. 

Haechan’s the one to shrug this time in mystery. “$600 is a hefty amount. He’d do anything he can for that, including but not limited to getting a fake girlfriend and lying to us,” he states more firmly, but that’s as Jaemin joins the table; his brows furrowed and mouth hanging slightly open as he looked around at the guys in something like disgust.

“What in the world did I just walk in on? Y/n is not my fake girlfriend. The deal money is nice but I’m at least honorable about these things,” he argues, and immediately all the guys whip their gazes towards him, varying expressions on their faces as Jisung speaks up in genuine question.

“Why haven’t you slept with her yet?” The seriousness of the question and the sheer interest in the rest of the guys’ faces gets Jaemin to roll his eyes.

“You guys are atrocious, you know that?” He says in place of an answer. 

Chenle raises his brows. “The question remains,” he taunts with a smirk.

Jaemin looks him dead in the eyes as he responds. “She means more to me than that.”

“Means more to you than that?” Jeno reflects back with a laugh. “Jaemin, are you forgetting your love language?” This is the first thing you can pick up as you finally get to the table after questions from your classmates held you for more minutes than should be allowed. Regardless, you immediately jump right into conversation.

“Love language?” You echo with a smile. “There’s something I’m knowledgeable about. How’s my words of affirmation boy doing?” You continue, all your attention directed towards Jaemin as you shed your backpack from your body.

He looks up at you still standing by his side, eyes soft and speaking through a small smile. “Better now that you’re here,” he answers, and you don’t stop the bashful smile from coming across your face as you finally get situated sitting down next to him. The gentle moment is broken, though, with Jeno asking a question in total shock.

“Words of affirmation??” He begs for clarification, and the rest of the guys lean in at the table some more in apparent interest. You look at them all as though there was some joke you weren’t getting. 

“Yes? What did you think it was?” You question back, and they respond in almost perfect unison.

“Physical touch.”

You can’t stop the small laugh from leaving your system as you look back at all of them seriously. “Jaemin’s good at showing love through physical touch, no doubt, but words of affirmation is by far his favorite way to receive love, it’s not even a question. And sure, part of that is how he smiles like an idiot whenever I tell him he’s the most handsome guy on the planet - which is stupid because ‘handsome’ honestly doesn’t even begin to describe it…” You trail off awkwardly before shooting your head back up to face everyone. 

“But have you ever seen him receive a compliment that has nothing to do with his body or looks? The way his eyes light up like something just clicked for him? I mean, he’s so many more things before he’s physically attractive, and all he was waiting for was someone to recognize that. Every time we meet up after class and I say something like ‘I’ve been longing to be in your presence all day,’ or ‘thanks for bringing me more happiness than I’ve ever known,’ he’s practically on the verge of tears every time. It’s why when I told him I missed him that one day, all he could think to do was ask me to be his girlfriend. He’s been waiting to be missed on a level that had nothing to do with his body. He’s been waiting to be affirmed in a way that isn’t physical.”

That seemed to get everyone else at the table to shut up, swallowing awkwardly as they instead turned their attention to their food. You let out a small sigh of relief as you dig into your own sandwich, but Jaemin doesn’t think he can even take one bite anymore; a weird feeling in his stomach and his mind going a million miles an hour. When he does pick up his sandwich, it’s not because he’s finally convinced he can keep it down, but because not eating now would be incredibly suspicious to everyone…including you. 

Jaemin walked you back to your dorm after lunch, something that became typical since it wasn’t always possible to pick you up from class for lunch. You were walking in comfortable silence; in fact, an element of awkwardness was only introduced once Jaemin spoke up with a strange sort of cough and hesitant words. “I didn’t know I was a words of affirmation guy,” he finally says after a couple of minutes. 

With the two of you out of sightline and earshot of the others, you let your actions and reactions express more naturally. So, you paused completely, making him eventually stop and look over his shoulder at you in question. “Oh…really?!” You say in light shock before shaking your head and resuming your pace so you could catch back up to him and continue casually. “I mean, maybe you’re not then, but just from what I know-”

You’re cut off with a small laugh from Jaemin as he shakes his head softly, matching his contemplative tone. “No, I think you’re right. Everything you said I- I think you’re right.” He says it as though he were almost embarrassed by the fact, and you decide that’s the last thing you’re gonna allow him to feel in this situation.

“Oh, well, would you like me to affirm you more often then?” You ask seriously. “We aren’t exactly meeting up after class everyday and I’m not exactly telling you I’ve been waiting for that very moment, but I can.”

Jaemin is quick to dismiss the idea. “No, it’s okay. No use doing that when this whole thing is fake. I mean, rule number three or something is that everything is immediately dropped when we’re in private,” he tries to play off with a laugh, and as you finally reach the entrance to your dorm, you turn around to face him solemnly. 

“Jaem, that’s not me putting on an act. You do know I love spending time with you, right? And-” You shake your head, frustrated with yourself that this is something you obviously didn’t do a good job of communicating earlier. “Take us out of this whole situation thing,” you command, finding your footing in what you’re wanting to say. “Just- as friends. I love spending time with you. I want you in my life forever, yeah?” You finish softly, and when you look back up at Jaemin, he’s quick to break eye contact. 

“Yeah.”

The next few weeks saw to it that you and Jaemin were hanging out more than ever. What you saw as insane luck meant that every time you texted asking if he could hang out, he was never ‘with a girl’ at the time; and Jaemin was texting you and being the one to make plans at a far greater rate than you were, anyways. Instantly, your relationship reflected that during your time in high school - the only difference was that sometimes in the midst of trying to pretend you didn’t have the hugest crush on your best friend, you were also having to pretend you did have the hugest crush on your best friend. 

Hang outs were still mainly at your place so that the two of you never had to worry about Haechan, though sometimes you’d purposely have a night in at Jaemin’s to keep Haechan convinced. This was not one of those times. Instead, you opened your door to Jaemin as you have for the past three Friday’s now, which the two of you decided would be ‘date night’ in everyone else’s eyes while really, you’d just keep a low profile and do whatever you wanted. Due to schedules, you always had an hour for homework before you’d be met with Jaemin’s presence, and he was right on time today. “Hey, Jaem!” You greet with a smile as you swing the door open and step back to allow him inside.

“Hey angel,” he replies casually, because calling you ‘angel’ was now a very typical occurrence, regardless of who was around to hear it. He flashes a smile in your direction, but instead of beelining for the couch like normal, he stops to stand kind of awkwardly in front of you before continuing hesitantly. “Mark is having a Halloween party if that’s something you’re interested in…we could go together. I know parties aren’t really your thing.” He speaks as though it were an apology, and all you can do is chuckle at his antics.

“Don’t worry about that. I am your fake girlfriend, aren’t I?” You tease in reply, and Jaemin raises his eyebrows as though he didn’t know where you were going with this.

“...Yes,” he draws out slowly, and you just shake your head at him fondly.

“So, if you’re going, then I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you answer sincerely, and though you’d never be able to convince yourself of it, you made Jaemin blush - just the tiniest bit. 

He lets out something like a sigh of relief before nodding his head in acknowledgement. “Okay, I’ll tell Mark we’re going, then,” he says happily, and then suddenly it’s right back to routine as he heads for the couch to chill before the two of you could decide what all you actually wanted to do that day. 

The next time you saw Jaemin was two days later when he asked if you wanted to accompany him to the store. It was all light and casual conversation as you strolled through the aisles, most of the time pointing at random items and saying ‘you’ to try and see who could get the other to laugh more. The bit promptly ended when you pointed at a Scrub Daddy to relate Jaemin to, but he instead teased you endlessly for using an item with “daddy” in the name. The only thing to veer his topic of conversation away from that was when you passed the aisle that had been repurposed into Halloween decorations and costumes, making him stop in his tracks.

“Have you decided on a costume for the party yet?” He asks curiously, and you turn back around to face him and redirect your path to peruse the Halloween aisle, touching random bits of costumes before dropping them back to the rack with a shake of your head. 

“Well, I was gonna go as an angel since that’s kind of what you call me now, but if we do it as a couple’s costume, then you’d end up as the devil or a demon or whatever, and I don’t love the idea of that. So…would you wanna go as Team Rocket instead?” You ask in return. Jaemin swallows awkwardly as he takes in everything you just said, but he can’t take too long to explore the slightly comforting feeling brought on by you saying the idea of him as a devil wasn’t your favorite…because that wouldn’t be very ‘I don’t care what anyone else thinks’ of him. Instead, he resorts back to a familiar tease, an eyebrow raised as a playful smirk crossed his lips.

“Who said I wanted to do a couple’s costume?” He shoots back and your face immediately goes red as you scramble for words.

“Oh! You don’t- I was just- it’s not-” You’re cut off with a warm laugh from Jaemin.

“Breathe, angel, I was just messing with you,” he reassures with a shake of his head.

“Maybe you would make a good demon,” you deadpan in return, and Jaemin’s eyes light with fire as his jaw drops.

“Hey!”

“Just messing with you, Jaem,” you banter back, and Jaemin bites on the inside of his cheek to stop a wide grin from making an appearance at your behavior. 

“I’m fine going as Team Rocket, as long as I get to be James,” he says with a mock seriousness, effectively getting you to smile as you roll your eyes.

“Well, I wasn’t going to suggest you be Jessie,” you assure in the same manner, and Jaemin nods his head, seemingly content with the plan before another question comes to mind. 

“Are we dying our hair?” He asks, and this time he’s actually serious. You think about it for a second before giving into the idea with a contemplative nod.

“We can get the spray that lasts up until you wash it,” you suggest, and with a nod from Jaemin, your Halloween costumes were set - all you had to do was make them. 

Fast forward a week and the only thing left to do was iron on the ‘R’ decal on Jaemin’s top, which was exactly what you were doing in his apartment as he took the time to spray blue in his hair. You look up from the heat press as Jaemin walks out of the bathroom. “Huh,” you let out involuntarily, and if you were any less close with Jaemin, you would’ve been embarrassed beyond words. However, he just looks at you with furrowed brows and a curious grin.

“What?” He asks, and you shrug your shoulders as though it were nothing big.

“You look good with blue hair,” you answer, trying your best to be casual about it.

Jaemin’s curious grin had turned into a shiteating one. “Oh, yeah?” He digs, trying to get under your skin; though, you thwart the attempt immediately, instead responding with nonchalance - the exact opposite of what he was reaching for. 

“Well, no more than normal,” you reply, and Jaemin’s brows raise impossibly.

“Now, what does that mean?” He asks playfully, but you just shake your head.

“You’re the fuckboy, Jaemin. You know what I’m getting at.” With that, your attention was back on the iron as it beeped and let you know his shirt was ready. You pull it out from under the heat and turn it around so Jaemin could see the final product, and with a nod of approval, he grabs it from your hands and heads back to the bathroom.

“Looks great, angel,” he finally says, studying his appearance in the mirror before walking back out to the living area. You just drop your head as you feel your face heat up at the compliment. 

“I’ll uh- go get ready,” you say quietly, and then you grab your own costume and hair spray before trading places with him in the bathroom. 

Jaemin doesn’t hide his small smile as he watches you walk back out to the living area in your matching costume with him, and you try your best to pin your focus anywhere other than his soft gaze. “Um- drinking at parties isn’t really my thing so- I can drive us back here afterwards. You can drink however much you want,” you get out awkwardly before moving to sit down next to him on the couch.

Jaemin chuckles lightly in response to your behavior. “Are you sure?” 

You nod your head profusely. “Of course. You enjoy parties a lot. I don’t want you to change an aspect of it just because I’m there, too. So, however much you normally drink…go for it.” 

Jaemin studies your figure with ample doubt covering his features. “I don’t know. Me drinking while knowing I have a ride home typically means I turn into too much to handle,” he jokes, but any form of negative self-talk from him always grounds you, and you’re quick to refute it.

“Not for me,” you say, turning your head to make eye contact with him. “Never for me.” Your soft reassurance has Jaemin simply staring at you, and you quickly turn your head back to face your lap as you overthink every little embarrassing thing you’ve already done tonight. On the other hand, Jaemin didn’t even think twice before leaning over to place a kiss on your cheek. 

Your cheeks puff out with a smile in immediate response to the contact, but as you lift your gaze back up to face Jaemin, your attention is caught by Haechan, who had just walked out of his room in costume - a vampire costume that was already iconic and he hadn’t even done anything yet.

Your soft smile turns into a full-on grin as you address him. “Woah, Hyuck. You look great!” You say with a laugh, and Jaemin whips his head around to face his roommate just to fall into his own bout of laughter.

“Oh, fuck off,” Haechan replies with a playful roll of his eyes as he walks towards the door. “Are you two gonna head out soon?” He asks more seriously, and Jaemin gives a light nod.

“Yeah, we won’t be too far behind you. Y/n just isn’t a huge fan of parties, so we opted for fashionably late rather than fashionably early.” 

Haechan flashes his eyebrows up in acknowledgement before turning back from the front door to face the two of you again. “Alright. Don’t violate the couch too much in the meantime. It’s my favorite couch,” he banters, and this time it’s you and Jaemin to roll your eyes.

“You fuck off,” you say through a grin, and Haechan drops his head with a loud laugh before bringing his gaze back to the two of you with a soft smile.

“I’ll see you guys soon,” he says happily, and with that, he’s out the door.  

It was about thirty minutes later when you and Jaemin entered the party house hand-in-hand. As soon as you got in, you realized your friend group was a lot more popular than you ever thought, because seemingly everyone you went to school with was here. For parties already feeling overwhelming, parties where you could hardly move without bumping into someone were even more so. Though, in the midst of the blaring music, a hundred different conversations, and all the dancing, your attention is turned to your interlocked hand with Jaemin as he gently rubs his thumb across the back of your hand.

You shoot your gaze up at him just to see he’s already staring back down at you softly. Unlike you, he looked completely at home in the party scene, though you figure one can’t truly get labeled a fuckboy without being so. That’s also why you assume he was able to tell you were already uncomfortable from the second you stepped inside. 

Hardly a few feet from the entrance, he leans down to you at his side, speaking slowly in your ear so you could make it out from the rest of the noise. “We’ll stay only as long as you want, okay? If you wanna turn back around right now, we can.”

You shake your head minimally, turning to face him and realizing that action placed your lips dangerously close together. You roll them inwards in hesitation before shifting your gaze to his own. “I’m not going to make you leave super early. You like parties.”

A smirk plays on Jaemin’s lips as he raises an eyebrow at you. “I like you more,” he replies playfully. 

You dart your gaze off to the side, ripping your hand away from his in the process. “I’m fine. Let’s just go find our friends.” You take a step out from the entryway but quickly notice Jaemin isn’t following. You whip your head around to face him just to see his hand outstretched for you again.

“If we’re going to go find our friends, your hand better be in mine,” he quips, causing you to roll your eyes before obliging and lacing your fingers back together. He gives your hand a light squeeze as he flashes you a wide smile and drags you to where he already saw Haechan, Jeno, and Renjun. 

“Hey, you guys look great!” Jeno says with a bright smile as the two of you join their circle. Jaemin finally slides his hand out of yours to instead place it on the small of your back. Despite yourself, a small smile comes onto your face, not at Jeno’s words, but at Jaemin’s touch, and you relax a bit more against his hand.

Jaemin is the one to actually respond as the other two guys turn their attention to the both of you as well. “Thanks! My incredible, beautiful girlfriend made the costumes,” he says, tossing his gaze over to you at his side. You roll your eyes at him, but your smile grows. 

“Making it is not the same as making it look good. You did that all on your own,” you shoot back earnestly. The three guys in front of you throw on a look of disgust, as if they weren’t the ones telling Jaemin he needed a girlfriend. Jaemin just looks over at you with a soft gleam in his eyes, his mouth straining as he tries to conceal a smile. He opts to just kiss you on the cheek instead, then reaching for your far shoulder and pulling you his way. He snakes his arms around you to keep you there in a hug from behind, his thumb gently rubbing up and down your waist. The five of you stood in a circle just talking for at least an hour. Occasionally, one of them would leave to grab drinks for the group, though you were sure to just stick to water the entire night as everyone around you became a comfortable state of tipsy. 

Eventually, Jaemin unwound his arms from your figure, causing you to turn your head and look up at him in question. He lets an easy smile paint his lips. “I’m just running to the bathroom real quick. I’ll come find you again in a few.”

You nod your head, and your eyes follow Jaemin for as long as they could before he became completely indistinguishable from the rest of the crowd. You turn your attention back to Renjun, Jeno, and Haechan. “I’m gonna go find Mark,” you start with an awkward laugh. “I don’t know if he even knows Jaemin and I are here.” The three of them nod at you, Renjun racking his foggy brain for where he thinks he last saw him. You nod, thanking them for their company so far, and then heading off towards the kitchen under the guidance of Renjun’s memory. 

When Jaemin steps out of the bathroom, he almost immediately runs into the body of another guy. Opening his mouth to apologize, the guest beats him to words.

“Jaemin, nice costume,” he says, and Jaemin loses his tension at the compliment.

“Oh, thank you-” He starts, but is quickly cut off again by the stranger.

“You got another one of your hoes to match with tomorrow?” He slurs with a smile, throwing an arm around Jaemin’s shoulder.

Jaemin’s eyes widen as he snakes out under the touch, guiding their hand back down to their side. “Uh, no, y/n’s my girlfriend. It’s just her and we’re just out for tonight,” he replies, turning his gaze away from the man to instead scan the crowd and try to lay eyes back on you.

“Ha! Good one,” the guy laughs out, and Jaemin snaps his gaze back to him in confusion.

“Good one?” He echoes back in question, but with a hard slap on his back that Jaemin thinks was meant to be playful, his conversation partner quickly leaves. Jaemin stands there for a moment puzzled, but he tries to shake out of the uncomfortable feeling as he directs his gaze back to the big crowd, looking for where you may have wandered off to once he sees you’re no longer with the previous group.

He quickly realizes he wouldn’t be able to find you by standing in one place, so he picks up his feet and starts weaving through the crowd again. When he feels a hand on his back, he assumes it’s you, and he whips around towards the figure. His face quickly drops when he realizes it isn’t you, and suddenly he’s extremely conscious of how everyone’s been touching him tonight. 

“Such a shame your costume shows so little skin,” the girl says with a small pout and a fake innocence in her eyes. Jaemin tries to take a step back, just to bump into more people dancing and forcing him back into close proximity. He swallows hard, accepting the fact that he was having to engage in this conversation now.

“My girlfriend picked it out,” he says firmly, and the girl in front of him just tilts her head to the side, now rubbing a hand up and down his arm.

“Well, she’s ruining the fun,” she replies, something like pity in her eyes as she looks at Jaemin. He furrows his brows, his breath getting heavier as the air seems to get thinner. 

“Um, I- I think I’m still fun without showing skin,” Jaemin fumbles out, and the girl just laughs, finally letting her hand drop from his arm as her doe-eyed expression turns mean.

“You’d like to believe that,” she says, shaking her head and walking off.

Jaemin stared after her in a weird mix of hurt and confusion that he hadn’t ever felt before. “What?” He asks in defeat, but there was no one there to give him any clarification. 

He desperately starts looking around for you again. If he could just get back to you, if he could just slip his hand into yours, he was sure the heavy weight that’s found its way onto his chest would disappear. He was shaking, he didn’t know when he had started shaking, but it seemed to take the place of his breathing, and now he was worried about whether or not he would even have time to find you before he suffocated. Almost all the effort he was placing into finding you was now being placed into holding back his tears. Everything was too loud, he couldn’t hear his own thoughts, couldn’t hear his voice if he spoke aloud, suddenly not sure if he was even getting any words out when he opened his mouth, which only worried him more because he was dying and he couldn’t tell anyone. 

Holding your hand, it was the only positive thought he could seem to cling to, the only thing keeping him from collapsing to the floor in a ball - he had to find you, he wanted to hold your hand. He thinks it’s a miracle that his feet are able to start moving again, especially when someone definitely put 50 lb weights in his shoes without him knowing. 

He finally lays eyes on you, now in the kitchen talking with Mark, Chenle, and Jisung. Though you were maybe ten feet away, it might as well have been miles, as another hand gets placed on his chest from a random girl in front of him. “James, let me know if you get bored of Jessie later. I can give you a good time,” she says with a smirk, and Jaemin feels like he’s going to throw up; though he can’t quite tell if that was because of her words or the whirlwind of the past three minutes. In fact, if he knew just how badly he was shaking, he would’ve questioned how she didn’t feel it when she placed her hand on his chest. 

He shakes his head as quickly as he could without getting too dizzy to continue his trek towards you. “No, I quite like Jessie,” he says through hiccups, not sure when the first stray tear made its way down his cheek. He pushes past the girl without giving her time to respond and make him feel worse. All he wanted was you, and when he finally got close enough to place his shaky hand in yours, all he could manage were whispered words that he prayed would reach you, or at least leave his mouth at all. 

“Please don’t leave me.”

Still in conversation with Mark, Chenle, and Jisung, you don’t turn too much attention to Jaemin slightly behind you as you settle your hand into his touch, but that’s when you feel how badly he’s shaking. “Jaem, are you okay?” You ask at your side, though your eyes remained trained on Chenle as he told the least dramatic story in the most dramatic way.

“There’s a lot of people here,” Jaemin whimpers out, the answer confusing enough to pull your focus away from Chenle. 

“I know-” You start, your gaze following from your interlocked hands up his arm and to his face, but that’s when you actually see the state he’s in and your face instantly falls into worry. A steady stream of tears cascaded down his cheeks, his eyes tightly shut to block out the extra stimulation, only opening them to look at you before promptly getting embarrassed and turning away. You immediately squeeze his hand a little tighter in your hold, getting him to train his eyes back on you. You pick up your words as he does so, careful to hide your immense worry in your tone and instead speaking softly for him. “Hey…let’s get you to a quieter room, okay?”

Jaemin nods his head minimally, able to let out a choked response. “Okay.” You take no extra time in telling the others that you were going to have to get filled in on the story later. Instead, you just make sure your grip on Jaemin’s hand is enough to not lose him while navigating through the crowd as you immediately lead him upstairs and into an empty room. 

“Talk to me, what’s going on?” You say, closing the door and turning on a soft lamp light before you whip back around to watch Jaemin pace the entire floor, his fingers running frantically through his hair. 

“I don’t know. Everyone keeps talking to me and touching me and everything is so loud and my head hurts and it’s so hot I’m sweating and dizzy and freaking out-” He spoke all at once, and you knew the last thing he needed was to run out of breath while explaining. You jump to cut him off, still trying your best to make your voice as calming as possible for him.

“Hey…it’s gonna be okay. Can you sit down for me?” The second you said it, Jaemin was on the floor, his heavy breaths visibly not making it to his whole body. Your eyes soften some more as you look at him. It didn’t take a genius to tell you he’s never been in this situation before, and all he knew to do was trust you. You let out a soft sigh as you move closer to him. “I know you said you’re hot and sweaty and overwhelmed with touch, but is it okay if I hug you?”

“Please.” The word comes out weak, riddled with enough tears to make you break. You sit down behind him, placing your legs out along his own outstretched ones as you gently hug him from behind.  

“You can close your eyes, just focus on my voice. You’re gonna be okay,” you state with confidence, rubbing a thumb gently up and down his side. Jaemin is quick to refute, shaking his head with an intensity you wish he wouldn’t right now.

“No, y/n, it feels like I’m dying,” he says, fear covering every aspect of his voice. You let out a soft sigh.

“You’re not dying, you’re panicking.” This, too, he refuses to accept. His response comes out as firm as it could through tears.

“I don’t panic. I’m the cool guy. I’m not panicking, I’m dying.”

Despite yourself, a small laugh escapes you through an exhale, and you hug Jaemin to you extra tight. “Baby, no matter how cool you are, there’s not a person in the world completely immune to panic attacks.”

Jaemin stills for a moment, the sudden switch confusing you before he speaks and confuses you even more. “I thought you didn’t like that word,” he says, wiping his face of tears and then placing his hands on your own arms around his torso. 

You furrow your eyebrows, though with him in front of you, there was no point. “What word?” You ask. Surely he wasn’t talking about the word ‘panic attack’ but racking your brain, there was nothing else you said that wasn’t just a normal word.

“You don’t know you said it,” he says curiously, a small sniffle coming from his figure as he tries his own attempt at a light laugh. 

“What are you talking about, Jaem?” You question again. At this point, you were sure one of you was going crazy, and you really were banking on it not being you. Though, Jaemin just dismisses the subject, and with you sitting behind him, you missed the small smile that now covered his features.

“Nothing, please just continue holding me like this,” he begs softly, and you nod your head, squeezing him tighter for a second.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you reply seriously, and there you and Jaemin sat for at least another ten minutes; the only noise to break the silence was his occasional cries as he still tried to rid himself of tears and calm down completely. 

When you couldn’t remember his last sniffle, you start to rub your thumb up and down a portion of his waist, disrupting the physical stillness before you spoke and disrupted the silence.

“I wanna get you some water soon,” you say gently, but any attempt to move from your position was shot down as Jaemin quickly fumbled to grab your arms and press them firmly back down across his torso, his body beginning to shake again at the idea of you getting up.

“No! Don’t leave! Please,” he chokes out, and almost all of the progress you thought he made in the past few minutes was erased.

You sigh, and refusing to think about the fact that you were practically breaking your own rule, you lean forward to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m staying right next to you, Jaem,” you start, and you watch as he basically forces his breathing to get back to normal at your words…or at least tries to. “Do you want me to call Jeno and get him to bring up water for you, or do you want to follow me down to the kitchen, grab a water bottle, and leave?”  

Jaemin thinks for a moment before dropping his head in what you assume was shame, which was the last thing he needed to be feeling. “I- can we leave?”

You squeeze your arms around his body once more in acknowledgement. “Yeah, come on,” you reply, and the two of you slowly make your way off the floor and into a standing position. As you let go of his waist, you immediately grab his hand in yours, looking up at Jaemin for confirmation that this was what he wanted to do. He stared back down at you with a teary smile and nod, and with that, you led him out of the bedroom and back downstairs. 

Thankfully, Mark, Chenle, and Jisung were still in the kitchen, meaning you had to cover no extra ground to fill Mark in on your departure. 

“Hey, I’m gonna take Jaemin home,” you say, turning to face Mark after grabbing a water bottle from the fridge he was standing next to.

Mark furrows his brows. “Everything okay?” He asks, knowing Jaemin wasn’t one to leave parties early, nor was he one to have tear streaks painted across his face.

You try to smile but it comes out more as a grimace. “Yeah, he’s just a little overwhelmed today. Thank you for inviting us, though. It was a blast.” 

Mark nods his head in understanding. “Thanks for coming. Are you driving?”

“Yeah,” you reply, and Mark forces some sobriety back in his system.

“You haven’t had anything to drink, have you?” He asks in worry, and you let a grateful smile paint your face as you respond.

“No, I’m okay.”

Mark nods before taking another sip of his own drink. “Okay. Be safe. I’ll see you guys soon.” You reciprocate his nod in acknowledgement and then immediately lead Jaemin towards the front door and back to the car.

You make sure he’s all taken care of in the passenger seat before you start messing with the controls in the driver’s seat to move it to where you could actually drive. You make a mental note to apologize about changing the position of his seat and mirrors tomorrow after everything’s calmed down, but as you start driving, Jaemin is the one to beat you to an apology. 

“I’m sorry,” he says weakly, and you risk a quick glance over at him with furrowed brows.

“Huh, why?”

Jaemin fiddles with his fingers in his lap, unable to look anywhere else because of his embarrassment. “For making you leave the party. You were having fun,” he answers softly, and despite your best efforts, a small laugh escapes you.

“Jaem, I was having fun because all we did was hang around with our group of friends. I don’t care for parties in and of themselves, you know that. Truthfully, I’d rather just be with you right now,” you say, and as you pull up to a stop sign, you look back over at him again. Defeat riddled his features as he spits out a response.

“But I’m just crying.” He speaks those words as though he were mad at himself for it, and you don’t understand how your best friend came to believe that he always had to be some perfectly presented guy.

You let out a sigh before turning your attention back to the road. “It doesn’t change the fact that I like spending time with you. Besides, you’d be crazy to think I’d rather be anywhere else right now when you’ve got me so worried about you.” When the only response from Jaemin is another sob he tries to cover up, you frown. “I’m not mad at you for making us leave the party early, and I’m not mad at you for crying,” you add on, and Jaemin finally lifts his head to look over at you in his driver’s seat. He seems to scan your figure up and down, processing your words and the fact that you were actually taking care of him right now. He sniffles once more before abruptly turning his focus back to his lap, and the car ride is silent the rest of the way to his apartment. 

As soon as Jaemin gets into his own room, he already looks a thousand times better; the tension in his shoulders finally falls and his breathing gets more regular. You scavenge around his apartment for anything he may need during the night and next morning, because outside of his panic attack, he was still tipsy, too. 

With a fresh water bottle and ibuprofen set on his night stand, you bid Jaemin goodnight, running a hand gently through his hair as he laid down in bed. However, before you can fully turn around and leave, Jaemin catches the hand you just had in his hair. In shock, you whip back around, just to be met with wide pleading eyes.

“Please stay,” he says softly, and your breath hitches for a moment before you resume your cool, or at least try to.

“Jaemin-” You start, your tone already giving way to your refusal. Though, Jaemin cuts you off in an instant, his grip on you getting slightly tighter.

“You said you wouldn’t leave me,” he shoots back, and his voice is already shaky again from the sudden raise in volume of his claim.

You sigh, trying to slowly snake your hand out of his grip as you reply. “Yeah, but I was kind of meaning that for while we were still at the party, not…now, when you’re going to sleep.”

He refuses to let you out of his hold, and he pulls you even closer to the end of the bed. “What if Haechan comes back?” He starts, trying his best to talk normally. “He’d be really confused as to why you didn’t stay over after the night I had.”

Despite yourself, you let out a small laugh. “There’s no shot Haechan makes it back tonight or is sober enough to think about anything but getting in bed himself. You’re just saying that to try and convince me.”

He finally lets his grip on you drop as he lets out a heavy breath bordering on the dividing line between defeat and hope. “Is it working?” He asks, and though you were finally free from his grasp, able to just say a final goodnight and leave to head back to your place, you don’t. Instead, you drop your head, speaking so softly you’re not sure Jaemin would even be able to hear.

“I want the side next to the wall.” 

With your gaze facing the floor, you couldn’t see the sudden warm glow behind Jaemin’s eyes as he pulled back the comforter on that side and pulled his legs up so you could crawl over by the foot of the bed, neither of you saying another word as you do. 

Jaemin didn’t know why he was so captivated by watching you fall asleep in his bed. The two of you must’ve been at least a full foot away from each other, as you immediately made sure to press up against the wall and make yourself as small as you could. That was fine by Jaemin. He wasn’t asking for the two of you to cuddle in the first place - this was still a fake relationship after all, and he was very much aware of that. In fact, that truth was probably more plaguing than ever at the front of his mind. Now instead of a reminder that he had to pretend to date you, it was a reminder that this was ending in two months. Jaemin’s tipsy brain couldn’t put together what the sinking feeling in his chest meant at the realization of that. So, he pushed it away, and just looked over at you sleeping peacefully right up against the wall. He didn’t need to have his arms around you - knowing you were next to him was enough, and for the first time that night since the party started, he was completely at peace.

When you wake up and realize you were more comfortable than usual in your bed, you open your eyes and figure out that it’s because you’re not in your bed. In fact, you’re hardly resting against a bed at all. Instead, one of your arms is lazily thrown over your best friend’s waist as your head rested comfortably, incredibly too comfortably, on his chest. The discovery that your legs were some kind of interlaced didn’t make things any better, and the full realization that you were practically on top of Jaemin had you jolt. This, of course, didn’t do anything but wake him up. With your head now propped up on his chest, you watch as he slowly peeks open one of his eyes, exhaustion still written over all his features. However, the second his gaze lands on you, he shoots open both eyes. Embarrassment quickly floods your being as you address everything. “Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

You’re cut off with a light chuckle and softly spoken words from Jaemin. “You’re okay.” Regardless of his response, you can’t shake the embarrassment. Jaemin’s arms fall from around your body as you try to get up, and that’s when you realize both of his arms were wrapped around you in the first place. You push the thought to the back of your head, turning to get off of his bed completely. 

You’re stopped by his hand grabbing yours. You quickly turn your attention back to Jaemin, who still had yet to move any part of his body but his arms as he looks at you softly, pleading. “Can we go back to sleep?”

You swallow awkwardly, your throat now suddenly dry. You dart your eyes around his room before sighing and just landing your gaze back on him. “Um, do you still need me here for that?” You ask genuinely. Jaemin breaks eye contact this time, as he just looks down at your two hands still holding onto each other. He gives a slow nod of his head, humming a little. 

You bite your lip to stop a smile from coming onto your face. It wasn’t often that you got to see your best friend looking as gentle and small as he did now. Jaemin, with the larger than life personality just wanting to stay in bed with you, it was hard to say ‘no.’ So, you don’t. “Okay.” Though when you move to resume your position back by the wall, he chuckles a bit and uses your still interlocked hands to pull you back onto him. 

The next two days after you woke up on top of Jaemin (again) were filled with an awkward period of zero contact between the two of you. You couldn’t blame him for not responding to your text to hang out the day after. You were both really good at never crossing lines back in high school, but Halloween put a blur on every single one…and it didn’t help that he was tipsy that night, too. Outside of whatever rules in your contract were broken, you were sure Jaemin was also just embarrassed to no end. 

There was a lot of pressure on him to be this man with no emotions; his label as a fuckboy meant people typically started and stopped all their thoughts about him at the sexual level, and he did his best to live up to their many expectations in that department, neglecting all the other parts of his being that needed tending to. Vulnerability was not a Jaemin specialty, largely because it’s never what anyone was looking for from him; and anything that lessened his sex appeal, and thus meant he couldn’t make a call and immediately have any girl he wanted, was a possibility he sought to avoid. 

You didn’t necessarily mind the no-contact, though. Your heart was doing flips and spins in Jaemin’s presence on Halloween, and you had to give yourself a cool-down period before seeing him so that you could act normal around him again - whatever it was that ‘normal’ looked like when you were having to convince a group of friends that you liked your best friend while convincing your best friend you didn’t actually like him. 

Jaemin made up an excuse for your absence at Monday’s lunch, but on Tuesday he finally messaged you again and asked you out for ice cream, which you of course said ‘yes’ to. He meets you at the entrance to your dorm and smiles at you with something like a sigh of relief when you smile back at him; though, with his messy hair, thick-framed glasses, and a hoodie adorning his figure, it was hard to do anything but smile - he looked criminally boyfriend. 

“Hey, I’m- sorry…for it being weird these past few days,” he gets out somewhat awkwardly as you start on your walk towards the best ice cream parlor by campus. 

You shake your head with a small laugh. “It’s okay. You’ve been going through it recently,” you joke, and Jaemin licks his lips before bringing himself to laugh as well. 

“Thanks for uh- putting up with me on Halloween.” He speaks as though the words were bitter on his tongue. “I’m sorry about forcing you to spend the night.” 

You let out a sigh. You wanted to stop and force him to see the sincerity in your eyes as you told him that you weren’t ‘putting up with him,’ but you knew you needed to keep this moment more casual so he wouldn’t find these vulnerable bits overwhelming and consequently shut down. So instead, you just keep walking with a small shake of your head.

“You don’t have to apologize for that. You just had a panic attack - if I didn’t spend the night, I wouldn’t have gotten any sleep. I would’ve stayed up all night worried about you. It was better that I was with you.” 

Jaemin lets something like a grimace cross his features as he responds with a wry laugh. “You care about me a lot,” he points out, making you look up at him by your side with raised brows.

“Of course I do. You’re my best friend,” you say seriously, and Jaemin looks down to meet your gaze, giving away the distant look in his eyes.

“Ha, fair,” he begins. “I care about you a lot, too.” As he continues, he drops his head to face his feet. “But I don’t think I’d know how to take care of you while you’re having a panic attack,” he admits regrettably, but all you can do is give a soft smile.

“I’m not expecting you to. All I ask is that you let me be there for you again if you have another one…and that you stop being so embarrassed about showing emotions,” you tack on, causing Jaemin to laugh a bit in defeat.

“Okay, angel, but only with you. I have a hot guy persona to keep up in the real world,” he says through a smile, but you shake your head.

“You’re hot, regardless,” you deadpan, and Jaemin’s face lights up as he nudges you in the side playfully.

“Well, look at that! You sweet talker. Maybe I’ll pay for your ice cream today,” he banters, and soon the two of you are in shared laughter as you elbow him back. 

“Whatever. I’m 80% sure you were gonna pay for my ice cream even before that.”

“80%?” He echos, bringing a hand up to his chest as though he’s been shot. “Such little faith,” he tuts, shaking his head and making you roll your eyes playfully.

“Am I supposed to have more faith in a fuckboy than that?” You tease, and Jaemin’s face falls into a mock seriousness, holding open the door to the ice cream parlor for you as he looks at your figure with raised eyebrows. 

“No, you’re supposed to have more faith in your best friend than that,” he says as you pass through the door, and you look back at him to share matching small smiles.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I have nothing but faith in you,” you reply as he, too, fully steps inside and lets the door swing closed behind him. The proximity has you looking almost directly up at him as he stares down at you in much the same manner; playful gleams in your eyes and fond smiles adorning your faces. At once, he nods his head towards the counter behind you.

“Go order, angel. It’s on me today.” 

You scrunch your face up at him with a big grin. “Thanks, handsome.” Then you promptly turn around and head towards where the cashier was waiting to take your order, not even taking one chance to look back and see how red Jaemin’s face had gotten in response. 

Jaemin knew it was coming, that was the funny thing. He just wasn’t expecting the disconnect between his head and his heart to be remedied all at once; but looking at you standing in line and pointing at what flavor you wanted, he had never wanted to do this with anyone else, but he really really wanted it with you, today and every day after that.

Sitting down and actually eating ice cream included the most normal of conversations between you and Jaemin. He wasn’t your best friend for nothing - the two of you could talk forever and never run out of things to say or comfort and joy to find in each other’s presence. As such, when you finished your ice cream cones and left the parlor, interaction flowed as it always had while he walked you back to your dorm…meaning the two of you looked like just best friends; close enough on the sidewalk to hear each other but far enough apart so that there was no possibility of accidentally grazing the back of each other’s hands or anything. You were hardly conscious of it, elated at the fact that you and Jaemin were so close and consistent again after the past few years, but Jaemin could practically only focus on the distance between the two of you.

You had basically just stepped foot back on actual campus when Jaemin abruptly stopped, grabbing your wrist and turning you towards him as he spoke in a rush.

“My friends are looking, kiss me,” he says in something close to a panic, and so you immediately oblige, pressing up on your tiptoes to kiss him firmly. You place your hands on his chest to steady yourself as you break away, catching your breath - something that Jaemin always seemed to make you lose - as you turn your head around to look at the surrounding area.

“Where are they?” You ask through a light pant, turning back to Jaemin once you checked and double checked but caught no sign of his friends. 

Jaemin licks his lips hesitantly, shaking his head. “They must have left already,” he says through an exhale, and you take a deep breath, finally allowing yourself to step away from Jaemin’s body as you face the ground, trying to regain your footing from the whiplash it felt you just went through. Jaemin lets out an awkward cough before speaking up again. “We should probably hold hands all the time when we’re in public, though. I’m pretty sure Chenle’s the only suspicious one still out of the friend group, but it’d throw anyone off if we’re dating and not holding hands. And if there’s one thing I learned from the Halloween party, it’s that people don’t know we’re dating, and that should probably change so it doesn’t just look like an act put on for the friend group…or Chenle’s never gonna believe it.” 

He wasn’t wrong, and you knew that - you knew that before all of this even started. Rule number three was that the act is immediately dropped in private, but that came with the other side of things being that you had to put on an act while in public, regardless of who was around to witness it. 

You nod your head slowly. “Yeah, okay,” you cede, and Jaemin’s hand immediately finds yours, the warmth from the contact making you realize how chilled your bones currently were. There was no more hiding it from girls in your classes now - you were Jaemin’s girlfriend to the general public, not just to his six best friends. You needed these next two months to pass by quickly, because with the promise of Jaemin’s hand being in yours more than ever, you were sure your chances of survival just decreased dramatically. 

That Friday, your date night was replaced with a night in at Jaemin’s apartment. As soon as he shot you a text saying he was home from class, you made your way over to his place. He opened the door with the bright smile he typically revealed just for you, stepping back to let you inside with a fond, “hey angel.” 

You step inside with a smile and small greeting in reply. “What do you wanna do today?” You ask, turning around to face him once you realize you were aimlessly crossing the span of his apartment for no reason. Already preparing for the question, Jaemin moves his hand from behind his back to reveal a thick blu-ray case in his grip.

“Harry Potter movie marathon?” He asks with a smirk.

You look back at him with raised eyebrows and a small grin of your own. “You know I can’t say ‘no’ to Harry Potter at any point in the Fall or Winter seasons,” you reply, and Jaemin’s eyes find a new glow behind them.

“That and Gilmore Girls; though I’m much more in the mood for Harry Potter because if we started rewatching Gilmore Girls now, we’d have to get through all those episodes with that floppy-haired jerk and really, Jess is so much better,” he adds on seriously, and all you can do is laugh. 

“Hey, Dean is at least better than Logan,” you respond, and Jaemin lets out an actual groan.

“Please don’t get me started on Logan…can we instead get started on Harry Potter?” He asks again, waving the disc case around invitingly and causing you to laugh some more as you walk towards the couch. 

“Just waiting on you,” you answer as you plop down on the couch, making Jaemin roll his eyes playfully before turning around to set everything up on the TV. As the familiar soundtrack fills the room, Jaemin places himself next to you like normal, handing you a blanket to make the cozy night-in complete. 

Two hours later, as Jaemin got up to switch out the discs from The Sorcerer’s Stone to The Chamber of Secrets, you got up for a bathroom break, and when the two of you sat back down, there was maybe an inch less space between you both than previously. Not much else changed. That is, until not even ten minutes into the second movie. You catch in your peripheral as Jaemin moves his hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. You don’t think anything of it until that arm doesn’t come back down to his side, but instead wraps around the back of your shoulders.

“Is Haechan here?” You ask lightly, trying to talk over the sound of your breath hitching. Haechan’s room was closest to the bathroom, and you don’t remember any sign of life coming from nearby while you were in there, but nothing else explained this, because this was not normal between the two of you. 

“No,” Jaemin answers shortly, and all you can do is swallow hesitantly as you fight for words again.

“Then why is your arm around my shoulder?” You ask, trying to make it sound as though your words were a playful tease and not a desperate question. 

Jaemin looks over at you with raised eyebrows and a playful smirk. “Because what if he comes back?” He replies casually, and you try to roll your eyes in much the same manner, as though his arm around your shoulder wasn’t single-handedly making your heart rate spike. He was right, anyway - if Haechan came back, it would be weird for the two of you to be sitting any other way.

It was during Prisoner of Azkaban when Haechan inevitably walked into the apartment. Busy with locking the door behind him, he was caught off guard when locking eyes with the two of you as he turned back around. Though, all at once, his gaze softened as he looked between you, Jaemin, and the television. “Hey guys,” he says warmly, and you mentally high-five yourself not only for the fact that you and Jaemin seemed to have truly won Haechan over, but also that you had won Haechan over; the main reason this bet was even made was because Haechan couldn’t stand whatever girl it was that Jaemin had over, but here he was, excited to see you cuddled into Jaemin on the couch, and that win was not lost on you. 

“Hey,” Jaemin replied with a smile. “We’re watching Harry Potter if you want to join,” he continues, but Haechan shakes his head at the extended invite as he moves to grab something from the mess that was the kitchen counter.

“Tempting, but- I’m all good. I’m about to head back out, actually. Mark and I are gonna hit a few bars and try to unwind from this bullshit week,” he says with a weak laugh. You and Jaemin flash your eyebrows in acknowledgement. 

“Let me know if you need a ride back home. We’ll swing by to grab you and Mark, or- I will, at least, depending on what time it ends up being. Regardless, be safe. I enjoy having you as a roommate,” Jaemin says, his tone turning more playful with every word. 

Haechan rolls his eyes with a smile. “Yeah, yeah. I won’t drink and drive. We all know I’m smarter than that,” he says, but when he makes eye contact with you and Jaemin again, he meets your wide-eyed stares of doubt, causing him to shake his head with a more hearty laugh. “You guys suck,” he says with a smile. “I’ll keep you updated throughout the night. It was nice seeing you, y/n,” he continues seriously, beginning to fiddle with the front door lock on his exit.

“You, too,” you reply genuinely, and with one more nod and wave goodbye, he was out the door. It wasn’t even five seconds later when Jaemin’s arm detaches itself from your shoulder, instead finding comfort at his side again. He didn’t pay any mind to it, his attention pinned solely on the movie. You do your best to not show any physical reaction to the absence of his touch, especially when you were the one giving him a hard time for it in the first place. You’re almost shocked by how well Jaemin is able to turn it on and off, though you figure the real problem was how poorly you were able to do the same. Jaemin was just doing his part, exactly as he said he would. 

Your heart had to stop looking for hidden meaning to every touch, every “angel,” because he was your best friend and crush, but you were his best friend and fake-girlfriend. Unbeknownst to you, Jaemin ran through the same spiel in reverse inside his own head, figuring if he kept his arm around you now with the promise of Haechan being gone, you would surely catch onto the fact that he craved your touch more than typical of best friends - which was exactly what you both were going back to at the start of the new year.

It was the first Tuesday after you and Jaemin agreed to ramp up your public dating facade, and you were already the center of attention as you walked into class at 11:00. You tell yourself no one’s gaze locked onto you as you opened the door for class - that you were making it up; but at least some percent of that story was false, because as you sit in your chair and start pulling out your notebook for class, your name gets called from the seat diagonal to you. “Y/n, rumor has it that you and Jaemin are actually dating,” this girl, Hana, says. You knew she was looking for a response, so you don’t give her one, instead focusing on your pen mindlessly rolling between your fingers. 

“You? With a guy like him?” She continues, adding more bite and disbelief to each word. You keep your gaze focused in front of you, jaw tightening as you try to hide more robust reactions. That is, until she continues. “You can’t be that good in bed.” Your fist clenches as you whip your head towards her; furrowed, taunting eyebrows matching the fire in her eyes and the smirk on her lips, the rest of her friend group snickering behind her. You have the patience for none of it - you were not going to sit here and take this.

“Actually,” you begin, your kind tone dripping in sarcasm. “I know this is something you don’t have experience with, so bear with me, but Jaemin genuinely likes me as a person and so I didn’t have to win him over with just my skills in bed. Yeah! He actually wants to hold my hand and tell me pretty things and I’m just so sorry that he never had the desire to do any of that with the likes of you!” You give her one last look before shrugging a bit, even your fake smile completely ridden from your face. “Actually, I’m not sorry at all.”

Hana looks mortified, her friend group in the surrounding desks all watching the exchange now with wide eyes. You don’t even think any of them saw it coming when Hana got up from her seat and lunged towards you, swinging at your face. “You bitch!” She yells at you, her fist making contact with the area around your eye. You wince slightly but you refused to give her the satisfaction of a bigger reaction - you’d leave that for when you were alone. You move your hand up to touch the area, making sure none of her rings caught your skin and drew blood, but when your fingers came back clean, you just move your gaze back to her in disinterest.

“Are you done now?” You ask monotonously. You catch her fist clench again in your peripheral and prepare yourself for another hit because seemingly none of the other students were concerned with stopping the exchange. However, your professor finally walks in before Hana can even get another word out, and instead she’s told to take her seat as you swing back to face the front of the room in your own chair. The throbbing that half of your face was currently experiencing would have to wait an hour and twenty minutes to be addressed, you weren’t letting her win.

Thankfully, that was your last of two classes for the day, so you were able to head back to your dorm directly after. You throw your backpack down in the entryway and immediately head for your bathroom to assess the damages. “Fuck,” you whisper under your breath. The hour and a half was enough time for a proper bruise to start forming, and it wasn’t necessarily the prettiest of black eyes. You move a hand up to touch the area again, this time just the light pressure already putting you in horrid pain. With a defeated groan, you leave the bathroom and dig through your freezer for an ice pack to hold up to the area instead. 

Settling yourself down on the couch, you decide the last thing you need is for Jaemin to see you like this. With a sigh, you open your phone and pull up your texts with him. Hey, just a heads up, I don’t have a lot of time to hang this week or make it to friend group lunches.  

Jaemin’s reply is almost instantaneous. Is everything okay?

You frown at the message. You hated lying to your best friend, but explaining what was up would defeat the whole purpose of saying you couldn’t hang out anyways. Yep! You reply instead, thankful when Jaemin didn’t press any further. You’d give yourself a week to heal, and then you were sure makeup would be able to cover what little would be left of the bruising by then.

Those plans didn’t even last twenty-four hours. There was a knock on your door after classes on Wednesday and you figured it was your RA here to remind you not to leave your windows open while out at class with the chances of snow ever increasing. Though, when you lazily throw your door open, it’s your best friend on the other side. Your eyes go wide and you immediately move a hand up to cover the left half of your face where your black eye was still very much at its peak. “Jaemin, what are you doing here?!” You ask in a rush, but he doesn’t match your demeanor at all.

Instead, he shrugs, a light smile painting his lips. “I missed you, angel-” He answers as he brings a hand up to your wrist and gently guides your own hand down away from your face…and that’s when his energy completely flips, eyes going wide as he rushes to place a hand on your cheek and assess the damage himself. “Oh my god, what happened to you?!” He asks in a panic. You shake your head adamantly, trying to move his hand away from your face as you reply with a serious bite.

“Nothing, it’s fine,” you reply dismissively, and Jaemin’s eyebrows furrow as he scans your entire face.

“Is this why you said you couldn’t hang out?” He asks, almost mad if you had to put an emotion on it.

You shake your head, dropping your gaze to face the floor. “Jaem, don’t worry about it-” You start indifferently, but he cuts you off with enough emotion for the both of you. 

“What happened?” He questions again, this time his tone much firmer than any of his previous questions. His gaze bore into you, and you knew there wasn’t any getting out of this. You let out an annoyed sigh, shrugging like it was nothing as you go to reply.

“This girl in my class found out we were dating, and apparently that pissed her off because she didn’t think I deserved you or I was taking her spot and all that. And I snapped back so she punched me,” you finally answer, and Jaemin’s body language immediately softens as he looks over you once more with a frown and wide eyes.

“Y/n…” You don’t want to deal with his sorry tone. Instead, you move to meet his gaze again as you shake your head, the frustrated tears in your eyes rather revealing themself in your fractured tone.

“Please just sleep with her, Jaem. Tell her we broke up or something and then sleep with her. Or pretend you’re cheating on me with her…she’d love that, and no one would believe her if she said so, so we keep our cover,” you suggest in a rush, and Jaemin looks at you as though you just committed murder.

“No. Absolutely not,” he replies instantly.

“Jaem-” You start through a defeated exhale, but hearing you out was currently the last thing on Jaemin’s mind.

“I’m not fucking sleeping with someone who hurt you,” he states with force, and you don’t know why this is such a big deal to him, not when the solution was this simple.

“I would just rather have her satisfied and dealt with,” you respond hollowly, and Jaemin actually lets out a laugh.

“Oh, I’ll be sure to deal with her, don’t worry.” His angry promise makes you sigh, and all you can do is respond in defeat.

“Jaem-” You begin, and you’re not given any time to decide how you want to continue as he cuts you off. Passion still courses through Jaemin’s body as he shakes his head, taking a break from clenching his jaw to speak again.

“She should know better than to lay a hand on my girl,” he argues, and now you absolutely know you need to get him to calm down.

“I’m not really your girl,” you state plainly, and if you weren’t already feeling deflated, you sure did now as you admitted that. Jaemin seems to react to your statement in much the same way, his features softening for a moment as he looked at you again, bringing a hand up to run through his hair in frustration; though this time, the frustration was aimed towards himself. 

“I- I know. I’m sorry, I never should have asked you to do this for me. I was so selfish, goddammit,” he rambles under his breath absentmindedly as he begins to pace back and forth. You shake your head softly, reaching out to catch Jaemin’s wrist and force his movements to still.

“It’s fine, handsome,” you state firmly, and you watch as a million emotions run over Jaemin’s face, him just sucking on his bottom lip in hesitation. The hand that was previously caught in your grip comes up to cup your cheek again, his thumb lightly grazing your bruise as he studies you with a sad look on his face. 

“No, angel,” he begins with a sigh. “It’s really not.” 

You falter under his soft gaze and sure words, shaking your head as you fumble for words of your own. “It will be fine, then. Just let me lay low for a bit. I probably won’t be at lunch on Friday…I don’t necessarily need your friends seeing me beat up like this,” you try and laugh off.

Jaemin looks at you quizzically. “They wouldn’t-” He begins, but you cut him off with pleading eyes.

“Jaem, please,” you counter, and he just nods his head solemnly. 

“Okay.” He lets out a breath before darting his gaze around from you to the rest of the living area, locking eyes with your backpack and giving him a reason to stay in your presence for a bit longer. “Can we do homework together?” He asks, and you lightly sigh as you nod your head, guiding his hand down from your cheek so you could instead head towards the couch and set everything up on the coffee table for the two of you. 

Your main distraction from homework came in the form of whatever was on the television. Jaemin’s main distraction came in the form of you; he could hardly finish one part of an assignment without turning his head to look over at you, chewing on his bottom lip as he studied you softly, then whipping his gaze back to his laptop before you could ever feel his eyes on you. It was the least productive he's ever been.

Friday was the next time you saw Jaemin, when he came over as per usual for your ‘date nights.’ However, with you missing the friend group lunch for the second time this week, he immediately greeted you with a related request. “Hey, the guys miss you. They wanted to know if you were down for a movie night tomorrow,” he says casually as he closes the door behind him. 

You turn to face him with a straight face. “Jaem, my black eye isn’t going to be-” You watch as Jaemin rolls his lips inward and dodges your eye contact, and all you can do is let out a heavy sigh. “You told them, didn’t you?” You ask instead, and Jaemin’s hidden lips reappear to form a weak don’t-be-mad grin. That is, until he meets your eyes again and lets out his own sigh, shrugging his shoulders as he resets his facial expression to something more casual again.

“They wanted to know where you were,” he says in defense. You watch as the memory of lunch replays behind his eyes and he tilts his head slightly as he looks at you with an anticipatory cringe in how you were going to respond as he continues. “…and now they’re all pissed and want to be there to make you feel better, too,” he finishes with a dorky smile, as though his full set of teeth would fix everything. Unfortunately, he was right about that, and all you can manage is a huff of laughter as you shake your head. 

“Oh my. Sure, we can have a movie night,” you give in with a smile, and Jaemin lights up before pulling out his phone to text the group that the plans for tomorrow are a go. Then, your Friday night with Jaemin consisted of a large pizza, red wine, and board games. 

That Saturday night, Jaemin came to pick you up and take you back to his apartment where the movie night was being held, insisting that Haechan could hold down fort as he came to pick you up…and that no boyfriend would let his girlfriend drive herself over to his place when he had a perfectly good truck and an excuse to kiss you under the porch light before joining all the guys; you told him he was an idiot, but he met that with a kiss on your cheek, claiming that you were the idiot for not taking a free kiss under the porch light with the Na Jaemin…a low blow considering the reason behind your bruising eye. 

When you step inside his apartment, the rest of the guys silence mid-conversation, instead turning all of their attention to you. Their shoulders drop as your black eye comes into the light. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you turn into Jaemin’s chest, and he wraps his arms around you lightly with a warm laugh, kissing the top of your head before turning his attention to his friends. “I’m pretty sure you guys promised me you would be chill about this if she came over,” he states playfully, causing the rest of them to drop their heads with a small laugh of their own.

“Our fault for caring about her,” Jeno banters back, and all you can do is sigh and pull away from Jaemin’s chest, facing the rest of the group again. He was right, not about it being their fault, but for the fact that their frowns just meant they cared about you, and it wasn’t like you didn’t feel the same way towards them - you’d frown, too if one of them walked in battered and bruised. 

You roll your eyes playfully with a mellow shake of your head. “It’s fine. I’m fine,” you assure, turning your gaze to Jaemin before tossing your head side to side with a small smirk. “Besides, I’d say Jaem’s worth a punch or two.” The guys in front of you laugh but Jaemin furrows his brows.

“Or two?” He echoes worriedly, making you turn to him again with a soft, sure gaze. 

“One,” you promise him and watch as a bit of relief washes over his figure, nodding his head as he takes it in. 

“Um, you guys wanna watch Transformers?” Jisung speaks up awkwardly, shattering whatever tension you and Jaemin just created and instead making everyone chuckle. 

Mark whips his head over to Jisung. “I thought we were watching Spider-Man…?” He adds sulkily. Jisung’s jaw drops, because apparently he had been looking forward to a Transformers marathon nonstop since the plans were made; but Chenle cuts off any chance of a response from him, instead just shaking his head rapidly.

“It doesn’t matter. Just choose anything before they take the pause in activity to make out,” he says as though he were horrified by the possibility, and Renjun lets out a sure laugh as he places a hand on Chenle’s shoulder.

“Still traumatized by the pda you asked for at that first lunch?” He asks, and Chenle looks at him with wide eyes.

“Can you blame me? So, they’re in a relationship…that’s great. Slightly cringe, but whatever. You know what’s not cringe? Spider-Man.”

“The Transformers!” Jisung corrects adamantly, getting everyone to laugh again.

“Sure, the Transformers,” Chenle agrees automatically, and Haechan rolls his eyes with a soft smile as he moves to set up the TV. 

The eight of you got situated before another beat could pass. Mark on the recliner, Chenle and Jisung on the small couch, and then you, Jaemin, Jeno, Haechan, and Renjun taking up the big couch in the middle of the room. You cuddled easily into Jaemin as he threw an arm around your shoulder, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on the side of your arm. 

For the group of you typically being a mess of chaos when you were all together, the eight of you somehow all followed the same unspoken rules when it came to movie night. There was no talking and, surprisingly, no one distracted by their phone. However, the peace of the perfect movie night was broken maybe twenty minutes into the first movie, when a chill ran through your body and the resulting shiver didn’t go unnoticed. “Do you want a blanket, y/n?” Mark asks softly. All at once, the guys whipped their heads towards him, furrowed brows adding to their glares at his disruption. That is, until it registers for them what Mark just asked, and all their gazes soften as they draw their attention to you in wait for your answer, Haechan pausing the movie entirely. 

You let out a laugh under your breath, shaking your head at Mark with a grateful smile. “No, I’m okay,” you say quickly, trying to get everyone’s focus back on the movie because one shiver was not enough reason for concern. The guys all flash their eyebrows at your answer, immediately accepting it as they turn their attention back to the movie. 

It isn’t long though before you shiver again, and while your attempt to cover it up was stellar, it wasn’t enough to get past the man holding you in his arms. Jaemin leans down so his lips are by your ear. “Go put on one of my hoodies,” he whispers slowly.

You shake your head minimally in response, eyes still trained on the Transformers. “I’m okay-” Your whispered words are cut off when the movie pauses, and you whip your head over to face Jaemin now, remote in hand and raised brows as he stares back at you seriously. A chorus of complaints erupt from the rest of the guys but Jaemin is only focused on you, and you can’t do anything but let out a light sigh. “Are you sure?” You ask, and Jaemin’s brows go from raised to furrowed.

“Am I sure? Of course I’m sure. You’re my girlfriend. Please go dig through my closet and wear my clothes,” he replies firmly, nodding his head now in the direction of his bedroom. You dodge any further eye contact with him as you instead slip out of his arms and towards his room. You don’t spend too much time in there, more than aware that they were all still waiting on you before unpausing the movie. You throw on the first hoodie you see, trying to ignore how much it smelled like him - how comforting it was to be wrapped in that scent. 

You put on a straight face as you walk back out to the living room, though you begin to think it was unnecessary considering their reactions, or- Jaemin’s, at least. He immediately broke from the idle chatter he was having with Jeno as he instead locked his gaze on you, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. You fall shy under his gaze, looking around at the rest of the guys to see if you missed something before accepting the fact that it was just Jaemin who had the answers. “What?” You ask hesitantly, and it forces Jaemin to snap back to reality and collect himself.

He lets out something of a defeated laugh, shaking his head as he concludes his look up and down your body. “You should’ve been swimming in my hoodies for the past two months already,” he answers seriously, and suddenly your cheeks are on fire. You hide your face in your hands and the rest of the guys let fond grins paint their face at the interaction between the two of you. That was the first time it truly hit all of them that they were each about to lose $100 soon. Though it was hard for them to even be mad about it, because in everyone’s eyes but your own, Jaemin was whipped, and that was all they ever wanted for their best friend. 

The group got through three movies before everyone started fading, eyelids feeling heavier by the minute. Renjun was the one to turn the lamp on at the side table beside him, putting everyone on the same page as they all got up from their seats and started getting ready to leave. Chenle is the first to say his goodbyes and head for the door, but as he places his hand on the knob, he whips back around. “Oh, wait!” He starts, louder than any of you were prepared for as you stare back at him in question. He shakes his head, the volume of his voice apparently even getting to him, but then he looks back at you all seriously. “I’m having my big New Year’s Eve party again. You’re all invited, obviously. I don’t know anyone’s plans after finals week, so I figured I’d just tell you now before we’re all in different places - if you wind up back at NCIT by December 31st, I’d love to have you, and if you wind up back at NCIT even earlier than that, please please please please please-” 

“Chenle,” you all cut him off in unison, and he gives an awkward laugh.

“Please consider helping set up,” he says flusteredly. You all let out fond chuckles as you nod your head at the boy, and he lets a wide smile grace his features before finally opening the door and leaving with a soft ‘thank you.’ 

Dropping you off at your dorm, Jaemin fumbles for words before you can even open the door back to your place, and you turn around to pin all your attention on him instead as he speaks up awkwardly. “Uh- about Chenle’s party…”

“Yes, I’ll go. We said that would be our last day together so we might as well be…together,” you say, and Jaemin nods his head slowly. 

“Okay; and for next weekend…?” He leaves the question at that and that’s when you realize you truly hadn’t given him much to plan with yet. You shake your head with a small laugh. 

“We’ll leave Saturday morning for my parents’ house. I have finals up until Friday anyways. The big dinner you have to be there for is Saturday night, so you can do whatever you would like with your break after that.” 

Jaemin processes the information with a distant expression before pulling it into a smile. “Alright, angel. Good luck with finals next week. I’ll be ready to go Saturday morning,” he says happily, and all you can do is match his smile.

“Good luck on your finals, too-” You start, but as you move to wrap him in one last hug, you catch sight of the hoodie covering your arms and jump back. “Oh! I’m still wearing your hoodie. Sorry-” You speak in a rush as you work to try and slip out of it, but Jaemin shakes his head.

“Don’t worry. Keep it,” he responds seriously, making you whip your head up at him and causing him to laugh. “It would be really suspicious if I came back home with the hoodie that I just said you looked cute in, and I’m not taking any chances with us so close to the three month mark now. Just don’t lose it…it’s my favorite hoodie.” 

You let out a flustered laugh. “Well, are you sure you don’t want it back, then? Haechan is probably asleep already-” You reason as you start pulling one arm out of the hoodie again. 

“Just keep it,” he cuts you off with a warm chuckle before continuing more somberly. “Our three months are almost up. I’ll get it back in no time.” If the words were bitter on his tongue, you didn’t notice. You were too preoccupied trying to neutralize your own emotions at the notion of this all ending soon. 

You’re scared your voice would betray you if you opened your mouth again to speak, so instead you just nod your head, finally wrapping him in that goodbye hug and then turning to let yourself into your dorm. 

Finals week somehow went by in a flash, and you’re scared to add up how many hours of it you spent in Jaemin’s hoodie. Though, the atypical schedule meant that you didn’t really have to worry about that - you only ever ran into Jaemin on campus for friend group lunches, and those were canceled this week since half of you would be in the middle of finals during the usual span of time; so, Jaemin never had to find out that you were practically living in the very same hoodie you had tried so hard to give back originally. 

Come Saturday morning, that hoodie was packed with all of your other clothes in your suitcase, currently in the trunk of your car as you drive over to pick Jaemin up before heading to your house. He places his luggage next to yours before opening the passenger door and sliding in. “Hey, angel! Ready to pull all this off for your parents, too?” He asks with a devious smirk. You roll your eyes, trying to buy into the playfulness to forget about the dread filling your system at the idea of heading back home right now.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Thank you again for agreeing to this,” you say seriously, and Jaemin looks at you as though you were crazy.

“Of course I’d agree to do this. Do you realize how much you’re doing for me?” He banters back, effectively getting you to laugh a bit as the tension in your shoulders drops. “Besides,” he continues more thoughtfully. “It’ll be nice to see our hometown again.” His words are much more mellow this time, and you look over at him with a sad grimace before shifting into drive and actually getting out on the road. 

As soon as Jaemin went to college, his family moved to Jeju Island, and for as often as the two of you talked about traveling there one day, it was much less exciting of an idea when it was already Jaemin’s home base and it’d just be you traveling to visit him. Even outside of that, you knew he missed the city - moving away from everything you know is only nice if it’s your choice, and moving to Jeju was definitely not his choice. 

It’s not like his relationship with his parents was impacted, though. He understood, and was very appreciative of the fact that they held out on the move until he graduated high school. Truly, if they were wanting to move, this was the time to do it. He’d graduate college and get his own place wherever he wanted; it’s just that now his place to go back to was Jeju rather than Seoul.

On the other hand, your family stayed put in the same house from childhood, but your relationship had gone through rough waters since you started college; something not even Jaemin knew, and now you were wondering how oblivious you could keep him of your current home-situation.

The verdict was ‘not very long.’ As soon as the two of you walked in your front door, your parents seemed shocked to be laying eyes on Jaemin with you. You push past them and towards your bedroom to put your stuff down, sending just a meek ‘hi’ their way. Jaemin watched you disappear with ample confusion, but his face quickly straightened up into a smile as he greeted your parents with hugs and gratitude for having him over. 

Your mom pulls back from the hug with a look of disbelief, shaking her head solemnly. “Jaemin, it’s wonderful to see you. I apologize for not having a space set up for you to stay. To be honest, when y/n said she was bringing a guest home, the last thing we were expecting was for it to be a guy,” she laughs off, and Jaemin’s eyebrows immediately furrow. Your own muscles tighten as you move to close your bedroom door, deciding that was already enough for you to hear. 

“Why?” Jaemin asks in return, trying to match the laugh from your mom, though his was half-hearted at best. 

Your mom shrugs it off like it’s nothing new. “Well, you know our y/n…doesn't exactly have a lot going for her-” 

“Y/n’s gorgeous, actually,” Jaemin cuts off with force, now taking a full step back from your mom and causing her hand to drop from where it was still at his forearm. “And sure, she has her guard up most of the time but that doesn’t change the fact that once she’s comfortable enough to be herself, she’s incredibly easy to love,” he continues, brows furrowed as he makes sure to get his point across. 

Your mom passes her gaze from Jaemin to her husband, taking a moment to exchange strange smiles with him before turning back to Jaemin. “Sorry, I seem to have offended you. I didn’t know you cared about my daughter that much.” She speaks every word as though she’s only half serious, and all it does is frustrate Jaemin even more. 

“Of course I care about her but that’s not even the point. You shouldn’t be saying that about your child and you used to know that, cause you never said anything like that when we were growing up. So, I don’t know what changed but I can tell you it wasn’t the worth of your daughter.” Setting all your stuff down, you open your bedroom door enough to catch his last sentence and immediately let out a heavy sigh, knowing you had to go out there and do something.

“Jaem?” You start, walking back out from the hallway. His face instantly changes from disgust to warmth as he snaps his head in your direction.

“Yeah, angel?” 

You nod your head back towards where you just came from. “My room is still the same one it’s always been. Since we’re apparently bunking together, if you want to go put your stuff in there so you’re not carrying it around throughout the house, you know where to go,” you say casually, trying to make it seem as though the sleeping arrangements were all you caught of his conversation with your mom.

Jaemin nods with a tight smile. “Alright, I’ll be back in a second,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head as he passes you in his walk to your room and you take his place with your parents in the living room. You and your mom both watch as your dad looks between the two of you before immediately leaving to go outside, shaking his head as he does so and leaving just you, your mom, and the suffocating tension in the room.

You drop your head to face the floor and your mom is the first one to speak. “I didn’t know he liked you,” she says plainly, eyes darting towards the room Jaemin was currently in before landing on you again, your head now whipped up to face her with raised brows.

“Didn’t know he liked me or didn’t think I was capable of having him like me?” You ask in return, and your mom falters for a moment.

“Y/n…” She starts, but you shake your head.

“Am I good enough now? Is this enough for you? That I brought an attractive guy home who cares about me? Are you even the tiniest bit proud of me now?” The fire in your eyes soon matches that of your mother’s, her disproving gaze that you knew so well baring into you.

“Y/n, that’s not fair and you know that,” she counters, her voice raising with every word.

Your jaw drops as you look at her in disbelief. “What’s not fair is you judging me by the man I do or do not have to hold my hand at any given time.” You’re thankful when the words come out firm; you’ve never stood up to her like this, and when your mom studies you with intensity, it’s as though she doesn’t know the woman in front of her this time. 

“Well,” she breathes out, bringing her gaze back to your own. “Being with him has apparently given you some confidence…or a voice, at least.” Her tone borders between indifference and slight disgust, and all you can do is shake your head, unsure of how your relationship with your mom ever turned into this.

“I refuse to believe that you find an issue in the fact that he makes me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world,” you say in almost a plea for her to tell you it’s not true, but she never does; instead, it’s just Jaemin’s breath hitching in the hallway that he tries to cover up so you wouldn’t know he was listening. When neither you nor your mom turn your heads towards him, he realizes he was still under the radar. So, he prepares himself to walk back into the living room as though he just got done putting everything away in yours.

When he gets back by your side, he lightly kisses your temple, turning to face your mom as he sneaks a hand to rest on the small of your back; your mom stares at the physical contact and you think her eye actually twitches. Jaemin opens his mouth to start casual conversation back up but your mom cuts him off before he can even begin. “Your father and I are going out for the day. We will be back to cook dinner,” she states, and your eyebrows furrow immediately.

“You haven’t seen Jaemin in years and you’re just gonna leave right when he gets here?” You ask in shock, and your mom glares back at you.

“Dinner,” she replies sharply, and then she’s out the door. 

Jaemin’s hand on your back begins to rub lightly up and down, and as you turn to bury your face in his chest, he wraps you in a full hug. “I’m sorry,” you mumble out, and Jaemin shakes his head. With one hand, he lightly guides your chin up so that you make eye contact with him, a soft smile on his face as he looks down at you. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, angel. It’s all okay. How about we just watch TV or something, go outside maybe…what’s gonna destress you?” He asks, his hand that was underneath your chin maneuvering to instead caress your cheek. 

You shrug, doing your best to dodge eye contact as you reply. “Anything in your presence,” you say seriously, missing the way warmth just reached every corner of Jaemin’s being at your words. 

“Okay,” he responds surely, and that’s how you found yourself walking the streets of your hometown, hand-in-hand with Na Jaemin. You visited his old house, the old playground, anywhere you could before the cold air finally caught up to you and you had to retreat back inside for some hot chocolate and more Harry Potter from your last unfinished rewatch session. 

Jaemin never brought up the obvious tension between you and your mom, something you were thankful for, but it also left you feeling guilty because you knew it was on his mind - the equation of where things went wrong between you and your mom after he left Seoul was continuously being worked out behind his eyes. When you explained this part of the fake-dating contract, he wasn’t expecting for your parents to actually be on your ass about not dating anyone, but stepping into this house was like a minefield, and any conversation around the topic turned into an explosion.

He wasn’t gonna make you talk about it though, you obviously weren’t ready to. Instead, he just wrapped his arms around you as best he could, making sure you and your cocoa were always kept warm throughout the duration of your latest movie marathon. 

Surprising you, when it was finally dinnertime, the atmosphere was lighter by the tiniest bit. Your parents were engaging with Jaemin, at least, and the presence of other long-time family friends put you at ease, too, because you knew a big fiasco is the last thing your parents would allow to happen in front of others. 

“Are you staying with us all of break?” Your mom asks as she puts her fork down and places all of her attention on Jaemin. He gives a sorry grin in return as he shakes his head.

“No,” he begins, and your face immediately drops, forcing you to take another bite so it’s less noticeable. “I was thinking I would surprise my parents. I haven’t seen them since the summer, and I figure that means it’s time to fly out and see them again,” he continues with a light laugh. “Though, when y/n asked me to come back with her for this dinner, I- well,” he drags off, taking a moment to turn and face you at his side, a fond smirk on his lips before he turns his head back to face his lap before you can notice. “I realize I’ve gotten incredibly bad at saying ‘no’ to her,” he finishes, his own light chuckle following his words.

Gazes soften all around the table as they listen to Jaemin, but you can’t bring your head up to look at him, sure the look in your eyes would give away how desperately you were wishing for those words to be real.

Your dad is the one to pick up the conversation again. “Well, we’ll be sad to see you go so soon, but it’s sure been a pleasure having you fill our house again,” he says with a tight nod that Jaemin reflects back to him, slightly softer in his perfect Jaemin way. 

That night, you and Jaemin went to bed before the rest of the adults did, but they had the advantage of alcohol to keep them occupied, and while that option was technically open to you and Jaemin, you both decided it would probably be best to stay under the label of ‘innocent youth’ with your parents and family friends.

You walk back into your bedroom after washing your face and putting on pajamas to see Jaemin already laying down. You trace his outline underneath the covers and sigh when you realize how little room was left in your full size bed. You slip under the covers and begin to turn on your side so you could take up the smallest space possible, but Jaemin evidently has other plans as he reaches over and pulls you so that you’re laying against his chest. “What are you doing?” You ask, propping your head up on his chest as you stare at him in confusion. 

He looks back at you as though there were no need for the question, his smirk playing lazily against his lips. “If you’re going to end up on top of me anyways, I’d rather just hold you there,” he replies, and all at once you’re vividly reminded of Halloween night. You don’t argue back, instead just rolling your eyes and resting your head back against his chest as you try to hide most of the blush on your cheeks. 

Jaemin idly draws shapes on your back as he watches you fall asleep on him. He swallows awkwardly, remembering what your mother said about you…what you said to your mother, and a kind of frustration fills his chest. He listens for any signal that you were still awake, and when he finds none, he presses the lightest kiss to the top of your head. “You’re so beautiful, y/n,” he whispers. His mortification comes when he feels you tense under his hold.

“You don’t have to pretend when it’s just us, you know,” you whisper back, and his heart breaks in his chest. His tone is firm as he replies, because if you were going to be awake to hear him say that, he might as well get his point across. 

“Some stuff I never had to pretend for. Some stuff is just a fact.”

You let out a heavy sigh, flipping which way your head was facing on his chest before speaking softly. “Go to bed, Jaemin,” you say, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with the feeling of defeat that arose knowing you don’t believe him. He thinks about saying more but he figures now is not the time for it…that in your friendship, it may not ever be the time for it. So, he lets out his own light sigh, his grip around you going slightly tighter as he gets to work on actually falling asleep. 

The next day, all you really had time for was breakfast before you had to drive Jaemin to the airport. As you pull up to the curb for departures, Jaemin doesn’t even think twice before leaning over the center console to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “Thank you for dropping me off,” he says sincerely amidst the rustling of him gathering his bags from various spaces of your car. You laugh as you open your own door, sliding around to the back of your car to pop the trunk and grab his suitcase.

“I’m coming inside with you, you know?” You tease lightly, missing the way Jaemin’s eyes soften at the care before he quickly vetoes your carrying of his luggage and rips his suitcase from your grip, causing you to laugh some more as you turn to face him now at your side. “But, of course, it was no problem,” you say genuinely, stepping inside the airport with him and too quickly facing the security checkpoint where you’d finally have to split. “Have a safe flight,” you continue, and with each word he’s now taking a step further than you dare to. “Tell your family I said ‘hi.’” 

Jaemin looks over his shoulder to smile back at you. “I will,” he promises firmly with a matching nod, and you throw a grin and final wave his way as he turns back to actually face where he was walking towards the entrance for security. As soon as you’re out of his line of sight, you allow your face to drop slightly alongside your gaze, letting out a light sigh at the feeling of him walking away from you. However, your attention is caught by the increasingly loud sound of heavy footsteps. You shift your gaze back in front of you to see Jaemin had changed his path and was instead heading straight for you again. 

“Jaemin-?” You question, but you’re cut off the second he gets close to you because he wastes no time in dropping his bags, cupping your cheek with his hand, and pressing a sure kiss to your lips. You melted right into it, something you would have to kick yourself for later, but at the present moment, all you could think about was his soft lips still lingering against yours.

“I’ll see you in a week, okay?” He says in a near-whisper. His words weren’t so much a statement as they were a reassurance, like he needed you to know that all you had to bear without him was a single week, like he intended to never leave you again once he came back. All you can do is swallow awkwardly, nodding as you look up at him through your lashes. 

“Yeah.” 

Jaemin’s gaze roamed over your entire figure as best it could with the two of you still in close proximity. You wanted to press up on your tiptoes and kiss him again for the hell of it, or maybe for the comfort of it, but Jaemin is the one to take action first, simply running his thumb gently across your cheek with a small smile before immediately turning to grab his bags and actually make his way through the security checkpoint. All you can do is stand and watch helplessly as he walks away from you. You’d see him in a week, sure, but then it’d be New Years before you knew it and all of this would slip right out of your hands…it practically already had. 

You were back at NCIT before Christmas, trading in family-time for time with Chenle, who was the only other one of your friends on campus for most of that duration. He tried to pretend that he needed to meet up with you to talk about plans for his New Year’s Eve party, but most of it was just excuses to hang out when he got lonely. One by one, the guys all made their way back to NCIT, Jaemin being the last to do so, coming in on the evening flight December 26th. 

You had brought Chenle with you to go pick him up, mainly because Chenle begged you to let him tag along. The two of you stood at the baggage claim for maybe fifteen minutes, Jaemin’s hoodie adorning your figure and providing you with comfort amidst Chenle’s constant nagging that you guys should have brought a sign saying that Jaemin was coming back from prison or something else more embarrassing. 

The baggage claim carousel had already begun spinning for Jaemin’s flight, and eventually even Chenle stops talking to instead join you in a frown as the two of you search for Jaemin. The verdict was that he must have just been the last person off the plane, because around five minutes later, you catch sight of his figure. “There he is- what’s he doing?” You ask confused as you look at Jaemin speed in your direction.

“Running towards you,” Chenle answers as if it were the most casual occurrence ever. He tosses his gaze over to you with raised eyebrows before continuing. “And I think you should probably start running towards him unless you’re prepared to catch his weight, cause I’m pretty sure he’s ready to jump on you.” 

Your eyes go wide at his words as you shake your head. “God, having a lunatic boyfriend is a lot of work,” you respond, feigning exhaustion. Chenle throws his arms up in defense.

“Hey, you chose him, not me,” he quips, making you smile before realizing you really had to start on your run towards him, because of all the things you were prepared for, catching Jaemin’s weight was not one of them.

You take off from where you and Chenle were standing, running up and meeting Jaemin somewhere in the middle as he lets go of his carry-on and puts his arms out for you. “Jaem!” You exclaim, jumping into his arms and wrapping around him like a koala.

“Angel!” He replies just as enthusiastically; hugging you tightly and spinning around once with the momentum.

“Chenle’s here so you have to kiss me,” you whisper in a rush, cupping his cheek with your hand as Jaemin steadies himself again.

He lets out a genuine laugh, catching your gaze with the brightest of smiles in his eyes. “Well, I wasn’t gonna run all this way towards you for nothing,” he says surely. Then he presses his lips to yours, and the resulting warmth in your body should’ve made the snow outside impossible. 

Jaemin breaks away from you when he feels a tug on his shirt sleeve, and the two of you turn to make eye contact with Chenle. “You’re being cringe now, can you please take me home?” He asks plainly, making you and Jaemin laugh as he puts you down on the solid ground again, slipping his hand in yours as the next best option. Then, after making sure Jaemin had all of his things, the three of you were on the road back to NCIT.  

The next day, Jaemin and the guys went out for lunch, one you weren’t invited to because it was one you “couldn’t know about.” Sitting around the table in a perfect reflection of the start of the semester, the guys around Jaemin all wore a mixture of looks on their faces, ranging from impressed to sulky…though that last one was only Chenle, who despite having the most money in the group, hated giving it out. 

Mark is the one to finally address the reason they were all there. “Well, you did it. I’m sure we don’t need to be the ones to tell you that you’ve been dating y/n for three whole months now,” he says with a light laugh. Jaemin can’t bring himself to join in on the smiles and playfulness around the table.

“I can’t believe it’s been three months already,” he says hollowly, but both his tone and the distant look in his eyes go unnoticed by his friends, their tunnel vision on their childish bet covering over Jaemin’s anguish at winning. 

“Here’s your $600,” Haechan says after having collected everyone’s shares from around the table. “Can't wait to have a new PS5 in our apartment,” he quips, but Jaemin whips his head up at him, grabbing the $600 from his hands defensively. 

“I’m not spending it on a PS5…” He begins, dragging off as the fire dies from his tone and he returns to a contemplative state of being. “I’m gonna buy y/n something nice.”

Gasps are heard from quite literally everyone else at the table, all of them looking at Jaemin with wide eyes. “Really?” Jeno asks in disbelief, and Jaemin makes passing eye contact with all of his friends, giving them all odd looks for being so caught off guard.

“Yes, really. She’s the best thing to ever happen to me, and I don’t know how to give her the world, but I can at least get her the best that $600 will buy,” he explains surely, and the rest of the guys all exchange glances with each other before turning back to him, Renjun being the one to take a jab this time through a hesitant laugh.

“Are we still talking to Na Jaemin?” He asks, making the rest of the guys laugh as well. Jaemin just lets out a sigh, finally able to find a bit of humor as well as he shakes his head, tucking the money away and turning the afternoon into a regular lunch hang out. 

Two days later, you get a call from Jaemin sometime after dinner.

“Angel?” He says softly once you pick up, his tone making you smile on the other end.

“Yeah, handsome?” You respond warmly. 

“Wanna go on a drive?” Jaemin asks, giving away no hints as to his current state of emotions, and your eyebrows furrow as you pry more.

“No destination?” You ask, and Jaemin shakes his head, not that you were able to see it anyways. His response is sharp.

“No.”

“Everything okay?” You question, the warmth in your tone turning into concern.

“Yeah,” Jaemin responds immediately. You let a beat pass in silence and it’s enough for Jaemin to want to fill it again on his own. “Just want some more time with you,” he explains shyly, and you let out a small breath of laughter as you oblige. 

“Let me get my shoes on.”

“I’ll be there to pick you up in five,” he replies firmly before immediately hanging up. 

True to his word, it only took five minutes before you’re opening the door to Jaemin. “Hey,” he says as soon as you make eye contact, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Hey,” you reply, your face hurting as you try not to smile too widely at his actions. Jaemin wouldn’t have noticed if you did, though, because he immediately turns to face the floor sheepishly. 

“Sorry if you were in the middle of something,” he finally says, making you furrow your brows at him - this wasn’t a Jaemin you were used to.

“Nothing that couldn’t wait,” you assure him before prying some more. “What’s up?”

Jaemin pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he shakes his head hesitantly. “Nothing. It’s just our last few days together. Figured we could hang out before you go off and get an actual boyfriend and I-” You watch as he fumbles for words, eventually giving up with a shrug as he finally makes eye contact with you again. “Go back to doing whatever it is I do.”

His answer doesn’t relieve you of any worry, and you move a hand up to cup his cheek as you tilt your head in study of him. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Jaemin nods his head slightly against your hand, a fond smile at your touch replacing the distant expression he previously held. “There’s just a lot on my mind. Nothing for you to worry about. Just wanted to hang out with you and kind of escape it all for a bit,” he explains casually, eventually bringing both hands up to guide your own back down from his face, idly playing with your fingers as he asks his next question. “Do you still like cloud watching?”

“You know I do,” you reply with a laugh, and Jaemin finally bares his teeth as he smiles back at you. He checks to make sure you actually did put your shoes on already before switching his grip so that he was just holding your hand as he walked the two of you to his truck.

You ended up at one of those nature parks, where the fields are preserved for fields-sake rather than playgrounds. The two of you got out and made your way around to the tailgate of his truck and you register that he already had blankets and pillows in the back, completely reminiscent of high school. 

You both sat in silence for a while, staring up at the sky and giving yourselves a chance to be at peace, at least somewhere away from the false sense of urgency that always seemed to be around. Eventually, you move your gaze from the clouds above to where your arms were wrapped around your knees, debating with yourself before finally breaking the silence.

“Jaem?” You call softly, and he turns all of his attention towards you.

“Yeah, angel?” He replies in much the same manner. You dart your tongue out to lick your lips, anything you could do to prolong your question - which you were currently thinking should’ve lost in your inner debate.

You finally let out a sigh, still focused in front of you as you talk. “You know you’re much more than the image you’ve picked up around campus, right?” 

Jaemin’s face immediately whips back to the front so there would be no chance of making eye contact with you. “Um…” He begins, but that was the only word he could come up with before forfeiting with an awkward swallow. You know that means it’s up to you to continue.

“I know that day I first met your friend group, you had to make up a ton of stuff on how we got together and everything, but I don’t know if you were necessarily lying when you were talking about how I deserve better than getting tied into your fuckboy image. I just- wanna make sure you know, in case that has ever been your thought process for anyone you’ve had a crush on, that there’s so many more sides to you than that. An image is an image, okay? Don’t let it get to you.” Your courage is built with every word and you finally turn to face Jaemin as you continue softly, surely. “They don’t know you like I do.”

Jaemin’s lips part with a heavy exhale before he rolls them inwards in hesitation. “Do you mean it?” He finally asks, and there’s just a trace of sadness riddling his voice.

“Of course I do,” you say firmly, and Jaemin takes in your answer with a slow nod.

“It’s been hard. I-” He grimaces before letting out an awkward laugh. “Oh, this is kind of weird to talk about with you,” he continues, making you laugh, too as the atmosphere lightens.

“Whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes playfully. “It’s me.”

Surprisingly, that seemed to do it, because the tension in Jaemin’s shoulders falls as he lets out a light sigh and finally finds his words for what seemed to be the first time that night. “I used to not care. If they wanted to label me as a fuckboy, that was fine. Truthfully, if I was getting my dick wet, I was good-” He cuts himself off at the sound of a slightly louder exhale than normal from you, and he whips his head your way with a pout. “Don’t laugh, I’m being vulnerable.”

You stare back at him with a fond smile on your face and raised brows. “I’m not laughing,” you assure, and Jaemin turns to face his knees again as he accepts your denial of the claim without a fight. Then he starts back up with his explanation, his tone heavy and contemplative.

“Lately though, I’ve just been thinking I want so much more out of life. But, I spent so long under the fuckboy label I didn’t know if I would ever be able to break free from it, if I could ever be more.”

Your gaze on him softens but your eyebrows furrow; there was something so weird about knowing he’s never viewed himself in the way you do. “Na Jaemin, you’ve always been more,” you respond firmly. The lightest of exhales escapes as laughter from Jaemin, and he lets a weak smile play at his lips before responding. 

“And you’ve always felt like home…” He says, matching your tone as he finally turns to look at you again. “That’s another thing I wasn’t lying about that day.” 

You immediately dodge eye contact, knowing it’d reveal to him in milliseconds your real emotions towards all of this…towards him. Probably against your better judgement as well, you lean into him at your side, resting your head against his shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I’ve had a nice three months with you,” you say, your own weak grin making an appearance.

“Yeah,” he agrees, wrapping his arm around you casually. “It hasn’t been too bad, has it?”

There it was, the reason you needed to snap out of it, because for Jaemin, it just wasn’t ‘too bad,’ and meanwhile you’ve been over the moon these past three months. You’d come to your senses eventually - remember that ‘breaking up’ was the plan all along, that the last thing Jaemin wanted was to be in an actual relationship, and that you were going to have to be as okay with that as ever. However, for now, you figured you’d just lean into him a bit more while you still can. 

The next day saw all eight of you at Chenle’s place, helping him decorate and prepare for the big party, and then it was New Year’s Eve. Only you and Jaemin knew that it was your last night together before the ‘break up;’ and neither of you knew that the other didn’t want it to ever end, meaning when you placed Jaemin’s hoodie in his backseat as a way to return it before the party, you didn’t know the idea of giving it back nauseated him possibly more than it did you. As such, the air was tense and awkward between the two of you, trying to keep hidden how devastated you knew you were going to be at the end of the night, and too dumb to realize the best thing you could do is talk about it. 

Hand-in-hand with Jaemin, the two of you join the rest of your friend group, already standing around in a circle somewhere on the outskirts of the set up dance floor. They greet the two of you with bright smiles, none of them plagued with the knowledge that their favorite relationship was ending tonight. However, with the eight of you chatting about anything imaginable, the night became incredibly casual, despite the overwhelming amount of people flooding in around you all.

Eventually, the group divides up, deciding a range of different activities sounded best for the time being. You ended up with Chenle and Jisung, the three of you indulging in the indoor s’mores kit that was set up. Jaemin never moved from where the big group of you originally were. Instead, he let the crowd all pass around him as he stayed focused on you, gaze aimed in your direction with a fond smile as he watched you interact with his friends.

The only thing to break him from his staring is when Mark taps him on the shoulder and hands him a cup of water. “Man, I hope you know you’ve turned into a completely different person,” he says as he does so, making Jaemin furrow his brows in question; though Mark shakes his head as though it were no big thing. “You got this glow about you that scares me, and the look in your eyes when you’re staring at her…I didn’t think I’d ever see that from you - you know, being so against relationships and everything,” he ends with a light laugh.

Jaemin drops his head, his own laugh escaping his lips. “It’s just what happens when you’ve found your person, I guess,” he replies seriously. “I mean, to me?” He begins, finally looking up at Mark in sincerity before throwing his gaze your way. “For her?” He shakes his head, his smile turning into a dumb grin on his face as he finally admits to what’s been on his mind for three months. “Everything’s worth it. All the risk, all the effort, I’d do anything for her.” He looks your way once more before his gaze turns distant and he lets a grimace slip across his features. “It just took being with her to make me realize…I want to believe in love,” he finally says, meeting Mark’s eyes once again. 

Mark’s smile was painted widely across his face, though he stared at his best friend in something like disbelief. “Want to believe it? Jaemin, you’re in it,” he says firmly, and Jaemin immediately lets his gaze fall to his feet as he lets out a heavy sigh.

“It’s less scary than I thought it’d be,” he finally says, and Mark’s smile turns fond as he gets a glimpse at how his best friend operates. He puts on his best voice of comfort as he replies.

“You said it yourself, it’s what happens when you’ve found your person. You should tell her,” he says, tossing his head in your direction casually, but Jaemin’s muscles tense up.

“No, I can’t,” he says in a rush, and Mark lets out a laugh.

“From the one who says he isn’t scared,” he teases, but Jaemin shakes his head - it wasn’t that.

“I- it’s a weird situation,” he says, letting out a huff with his bad explanation. “I can’t tell her. Not tonight, anyways…she won’t want to hear that from me,” he concludes, dragging off miserably. Mark’s face completely flips as he stares at Jaemin quizzically. 

“But- she looks at you the same way, you know?” He says surely, but Jaemin shakes his head again.

“No, that’s just how she looks at me. Even when we were in high school.” He takes a moment to pause, tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips before continuing with conviction. “No, she doesn’t love me. Not like this,” he says, and then he’s walking away, leaving a very confused Mark standing there with parted lips.

“...I thought she’s liked you since high school,” he says under his breath now that he knew there was no way Jaemin would hear anyways. He looks between you and Jaemin before shaking his head - the last thing he needed on New Year’s Eve was to engage in overthinking.

You had just broken away from where you were talking with Chenle and Jisung to instead make your way over to the punch table. Grabbing yourself a glass, when arms wrap around you in a hug from behind, you know the only person it could be. “Hey, handsome,” you say with a smile, turning your head to the side to try and lay eyes on him.

“Hi, angel,” Jaemin replies, taking the opportunity to place a small kiss on your cheek before continuing. “Are we kissing at midnight or are we ending things before then? I’m not sure if you want to start the new year with me or not.” His tone borders on defeat, and you turn around in his arms to stare at him with raised eyebrows and a playful smirk.

“I’ll be your new year's kiss if you’ll be mine,” you reply, and Jaemin lets out a small chuckle. “Besides,” you continue more seriously. “Ending this doesn’t mean you aren’t still my best friend. You’ll be a part of my new year no matter what. We can kiss and just pretend that was our way to say ‘bye’ to dating, cause you know, I guess it will be.” For a moment that you always knew was coming, admitting its near occurrence now felt like you just had the wind knocked out of you. Jaemin just stares down at you with a wide grin, nodding his head along to your words in approval. 

“Alright best friend, then I’ll make sure to find you again before midnight,” he replies, the entire thing making you swallow awkwardly as you nod your head back at him slightly.

“Yeah…” You respond in something like a whisper, and with one light kiss on your forehead, Jaemin vanishes again into the crowd. 

The rest of the New Years party was a blast, no doubt, but the knowledge of what was coming, or more so ending, plagued your thoughts and eventually you just needed to slip away from the rest of the noise. You ended up on the balcony attached to some random bedroom, the cool air something of a relief for your current state.

The only pull back into reality was when the ever-present loudness turned into synchronized cheers, and you catch as the entire party starts counting down from fifteen seconds. You whip around to start on your rushed journey back inside, realizing you never told Jaemin where you would be; but as you turn, you make eye contact with him, just stepping onto the balcony himself, an easy smile crossing his features. “No need to rush. I told you I’d find you before midnight,” he says with a light laugh, and you drop your head with a small exhale as your own form of laughter. “Ready to say ‘bye’ to all this pretending?” He asks, stepping up to where he was directly in front of you.

No. “Yep,” you respond with the best fake smile you could. You already made it this far with no problems, you refused to let it slip that your heart was fully in this right when it was about to end. 

Jaemin matched your smile, and as the crowd’s counting reached the ‘3, 2, 1,’ his hand came up to find its favorite spot at your cheek again. Then he leaned in and kissed you right as the party erupted with cheers of ‘Happy New Year.’ 

Your hands gripped tightly at his shirt, keeping you steady and keeping him close to you; though he wasn’t necessarily going anywhere with one hand cupping your cheek and the other placed firmly on your waist. Unlike any of your other kisses, this one…lingered. The two of you kept steady pace with each other, you gently sucking on his bottom lip and figuring for as long as he’d let this go on, you would take it for all it was worth, trying to pretend you could ever kiss him enough for a lifetime. 

When you think he’s breaking away, you’re instead met with the feeling of his tongue running across your top lip, asking for permission - permission all too easily granted by you as you open your mouth to let him explore. Your New Year's kiss turned into a greedy make out session, which was probably the last thing you were expecting, but you couldn’t take the time to question it because you were too busy drowning in his taste. You loved the taste of Jaemin on your tongue, and his own soft moan - which he tried so desperately to cover up but that you still very much heard, let you know he was currently feeling the same way; and you’d mark that down as a tiny win in the midst of the huge loss you were about to incur. 

Against your better judgement, you finally break away when you truly couldn’t breathe anymore, and Jaemin rests his forehead against yours. The air was just filled with the sound of panting as the two of you tried to catch your breaths. You swallow awkwardly once you do, taking a small step back as you process what just happened, Jaemin’s hand running down your body until you were no longer in reach. “You’re awfully good at ‘goodbye,’” you say in between breaths.

Jaemin immediately dodges your gaze, facing somewhere off to the side as his adam's apple bobs up and down. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he responds quietly, to the point where you were practically just reading his lips, and then he’s gone, leaving you alone on the balcony to deal with your flooding emotions on your own…not that you could do so in his presence anyways. 

You hated that it hurt this much - that a goodbye you knew was coming still seemed to blindside you. You had allowed your heart to indulge in his every romantic gesture, and while on the surface you knew they meant nothing, you held onto hope in some deep dark corner of your heart that maybe it wasn’t all just pretend; and yet here you were, grouped in with the vast category of girls he’s said ‘goodbye’ to in the way he knew all too well. You were his best friend but you were no one special, and you didn’t expect the resurgence of a fact that you already knew to affect you as much as it did - to make it feel as though you had been hollowed out, bones chilled from the empty space your soul used to occupy. 

You and Jaemin weren’t in contact the entire first day of the new year, though you couldn’t complain because talking to him right away was not something you figured your heart could handle. Instead, you went to work out at the gym and run errands and all those other things people do when they’re single and making a point to say they’re okay with that. To be fair, it kind of worked. Not that you were okay with whatever you and Jaemin had gotten yourselves into coming to an end, but that day of productivity and endorphin-inducing activity helped you ground yourself - these past three months were you helping out your best friend, that was all it was ever supposed to be. 

The next day was far less productive, but you were still functioning like normal. The only disruption from your typical daily routine came with a phone call from Haechan. As soon as you pick up, he starts speaking.

“Why did you go and break Jaemin’s heart all of the sudden?” He asks angrily.

You furrow your brows, though it wasn’t like he could see it anyways. “What do you mean? The breakup was mutual,” you counter in confusion, and Haechan lets out an actual ‘HA’ in disbelief before he replies with animosity.

“I need to know what the hell your definition of ‘mutual’ is because Jaemin hasn’t stopped crying for the past twenty-four hours.” 

You think he’s kidding, like this is one last stupid test of whether your relationship ever added up - but you shake the idea away, he already got the money, it was a week past three months, there wasn’t anything for you to mess up now, the story you’ve been telling would work as it always had. “Crying? What? We both agreed we worked better as friends,” you reply instantly, confusion adequately painting your voice. 

Haechan cannot believe his ears, and he makes sure to let you know so. For as much as you were confused, he didn’t understand why you were acting this way, ten fold. “No, I don’t believe you at all now. He wouldn’t agree on that. I don’t know how Jaemin talked to you, but he talked about you as though he’s never held anyone’s hand before until he held yours. Y/n, it was like you were the one to put every star in his night sky, I swear there’s no way this breakup was mutual.” Your whole world stops and you go speechless on the other end. Haechan was being dead serious, or else he wouldn’t be angry, he wouldn’t be pushing the subject. His words turn over and over again in your head. Jaemin talked about you, evidently when you weren’t around. You were fake-dating and yet Jaemin went out of his way to speak of you fondly to his friends. Jaemin, who never saw the point of getting romantically attached like that, doing more than what was needed in expressing his feelings about you. You push down the feeling of nausea and instead let out a deep sigh.

“I’ll be over in five minutes,” you say quietly, and then you hang up the phone before ever getting a reply from Haechan.

You race over to their apartment, and before you could even knock, Haechan is swinging the door open for you. The two of you make eye contact and about a million emotions pass between you, but it was easiest to pick up on the uncertainty. Haechan opens his mouth as if he’s about to bombard you with questions, or maybe yell at you again…you weren’t sure, but instead he just lets out a breath, nodding his head back in the direction of Jaemin’s room with a soft, “in there.” 

You throw a thankful smile his way, not that you were necessarily guessing at where Jaemin could be, but you were very grateful he was letting you off so easily. Even by looking at Haechan, you could tell Jaemin had truly been crying for the past twenty-four hours…Haechan looked exhausted. 

You lightly tap on the door of Jaemin’s room before entering, breath hitching as you lay eyes on his figure, curled up in a ball and clad in his favorite hoodie that you had given back - the hoodie he now knew you had lived in for the past few weeks because he already caught your own scent on it. Tears raced down his face, and he immediately turned away from you to hide them as he squeaked out choked words.

“Please go away,” he says, and reality hits you all at once. It wasn’t like you thought Haechan was lying, but now you truly had to face the fact that you were the cause of Jaemin’s tears; he wanted you to go away. 

“Jaemin, I’m not going anywhere,” you say softly, shaking your head to emphasize the point. Though, as you do so, your gaze catches onto a gift bag on his dresser, a label with your name written on it in his stupid perfect handwriting. 

You walk up to it, swallowing hesitantly as you turn your attention from the bag to Jaemin and back again. “What is this?” You finally ask. Jaemin shoots his gaze your way, not having previously realized what had caught your intrigue.

“Please don’t-” He rushes to say, but in the pause, you had already pulled out a diamond necklace, holding it gently between your shaking hands. You shake your head, eyes wide and jaw dropped as you’re unable to form a coherent thought. You turn back around to face him, your gaze darting every which way because you’re not sure you can confidently hold eye contact with him.

“Jaemin, what-? Why is this in a gift bag labeled for me-? When did you-?”

He cuts you off, visibly annoyed. “It’s what I used the bet money on. Now please go away,” he demands more firmly, but you wouldn’t be able to follow through on it even if you wanted to, because as you process his words, you lose the ability to move. 

“You spent the $600 on this?” You ask in disbelief, turning your attention fully towards him to try and find any cue that he was lying. “On me?” 

Jaemin turns his head to the side, and you watch as his adam’s apple bobs up and down with an awkward swallow. When he finally answers, his voice has lost its tension, his words instead coming out as though he were ashamed. “$700,” he corrects. “I didn’t want it to feel like I was just gifting you something from the guys.”

You think you’ve gone crazy, or maybe Jaemin has, but all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. “I-”

He quickly finds his fire again, apparently having had enough embarrassment for a lifetime in those few seconds. “Please leave,” he spits out. He dares look up to make eye contact with you before immediately regretting his decision and staring back down at his bed again, wiping more stray tears from his eyes as he fumbles out his next words. “You can take the necklace if you want but just- please leave.”

“Jaem-” You say softly before he can cut you off.

“What?!” He quips, though when he shoots his gaze back to you in irritation, he realizes you’re no longer standing at his dresser, but sitting at the edge of his bed with him. Your fingers barren of the necklace, you instead occupy one hand by placing it on top of his own.

“You could’ve told me you fell for me, too,” you say seriously, and Jaemin stops breathing for a moment as he looks up at you with wide teary eyes.

“Too?” He echoes weakly, and all you can do is give a tight smile, moving a hand up to wipe under his eyes as you try to hold back your own tears.

“I refuse to believe I played off my huge crush on you since high school that well.” You reply with a hoarse laugh.

Jaemin finally recovers his ability to breathe as he lets out a heavy exhale. “You like me?” He asks through tears, and you finally break, having to wipe your own stupid tears off your face before nodding at him with an embarrassed smile.

“I always have. Why do you think I made all those stupid rules to try and make sure we acted like a couple as little as possible?” A bittersweet laugh gets caught in your throat as you think back on it. “If I had to listen to you call me cute names all the time, I wouldn’t have survived knowing it was eventually going to end,” you continue seriously.

Jaemin’s finally able to let out a bashful smile and sorry laugh. “...I called you cute names all the time anyways.”

You nod your head with a fond smile. “I know.”

“I couldn’t help it,” he explains as more tears rush down his face, though this time, they’re at least sliding down next to an embarrassed grin. 

You look at him with playful raised eyebrows. “Just like how you couldn’t help it when you kissed me every time you saw me? Or looked over at me super fondly?”

Jaemin softens as his eyes trace over your figure, the distant look in his gaze letting you know his mind was rather preoccupied with reliving the past three months. “Exactly like that,” he says lowly, and you let out a breath, forcing your gaze away from Jaemin as you instead focus on the way your fingers were idly fidgeting with each other.

“God, Jaem. I’m sorry. I should’ve realized-” You speak apologetically but Jaemin cuts you off again.

“No, I should’ve communicated. Well…” He lets another soft laugh leave his system, the tears finally drying on his face as he works towards fully collecting himself. “I should’ve communicated when you knew I was serious.”

You smile at his words, shaking your head again as you relive every moment of the fake relationship. “I didn’t even know you had time to catch feelings for me,” you begin with something like wonder in your tone. “I mean- weren’t you still hooking up with-”

When Jaemin cuts you off this time, it’s with the most flustered of cheeks and the weakest of laughs. “Um, about that…the very first girl I hooked up with after we added that rule-” He shakes his head with a small smile as he corrects himself. “Well, I say that…she was also the last girl I hooked up with.” Your eyebrows furrow slightly as you process the information, but Jaemin doesn’t give you much time to do so before throwing in another wrench. “I uh- accidentally moaned your name.”

Your head whips in his direction, your wide eyes straining against your dropped jaw. “Jaemin! You did not!”

“Why would I make that up?!” He quips back with a hearty laugh. You move a hand over your gaping mouth, unsure at what exactly you were supposed to do with this news. You shake your head in disbelief.

“Oh my god, what did she do?” You ask, curiosity dripping from your voice. Jaemin bites on the inside of his cheek before giving in again with a light sigh.

“Well, we immediately stopped because we were both mortified, I think. She said something about how I obviously had to go figure some things out, to which I agreed, but for different reasons than she thought…” He drags off a bit but instead just shakes his head and goes in a different direction. “I practically begged her not to say anything about it, but she laughed and said I was crazy if I thought she was going to tell that story and humiliate herself,” he finishes with a small chuckle, and you just stare at him with no less shock than before.

“I can’t believe this,” you manage to get out playfully. 

Jaemin flashes his eyebrows in acknowledgement before his eyes light up and he rushes through more words. “Oh! The best part is, a week or so later, she saw us holding hands in public and texted me saying that she’s rooting for us,” he recalls with a shiteating grin. 

“Stop!” You get out, the idea of it damn near killing you. Though, before you can end up dying of laughter with Jaemin, another piece of information fits itself into the puzzle and you come back to your senses in seriousness.

“Wait wait wait,” you begin, focusing your gaze fully on Jaemin again. “So, you’ve been celibate for like…three months now?” You ask in shock. Jaemin isn’t even the tiniest bit regretful as he responds with a shrug, his sincere gaze meeting your own.

“I only wanted you. Wasn’t going to waste mine or anyone else’s time pretending any different.”

Your gaze softens immediately as a fond smile plays against your features. “Jaem…” You aren’t necessarily sure where you were going from there, but Jaemin picks it up anyways with a small shake of his head; his own weak smile making an appearance again as he recounts those first few moments.

“You kissed me that first day and I assumed I was fucked,” he explains casually. “Everything felt like it changed, and not because it was affection but because it was you.” His cheeks puff out again with a bigger grin as he continues. “Then I had that slip up and I knew I was fucked. Couldn’t get you out of my head for even a moment. It was starting to drive me crazy how much I wanted to make you happy.”

His eyes meet yours again as he finishes, and you search them for answers you knew you would have to ask for. “A good crazy?” You question hesitantly, but Jaemin is quick to shut down any worries.

“The best,” he assures, moving his hands so that he could interlace them with yours. He moves his gaze from your physical contact back up to your face before continuing seriously. “I love you, y/n.” 

You swallow hard, trying to not let any more tears run down your face, albeit happy tears weren’t so bad. You squeeze his hands in yours as you nod your head. “I love you, too.”

“Can we date for real?” He immediately asks, his wide pleading eyes making you chuckle.

“It’s been ‘for real’ for a while now,” you say warmly, but Jaemin shakes his head, not having it. 

“Yeah, but we’re currently broken up if you don’t remember. The entire reason you’re over here is because I couldn’t stop bawling my eyes out…which was the worst feeling in the world, by the way,” he banters back with a weak laugh. You let a grimace cross your face before pulling it into a fond smile. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll never break up with you again,” you assure him softly. Jaemin doesn’t hide his wide smile as he shifts himself so he can easily lean in and kiss you softly, resting his forehead against your own as he pulls back to smile against your lips.

When you step onto the ice, you think it might really be over.

It’s Nationals, which means that this is your last chance to make it. To prove, to everyone in the figure skating community, that you still have what it takes.

The pressure is on, especially since your childhood friend, Sunghoon, is dubbed the favorite within the men's program. You surpassed all expectations and are coming off an incredibly strong short program, which makes you the last one to leave it all on the ice.

You cross one skate over the other, gliding toward center ice. You lift your arms as you hear your name announced over the speakers. Through your nerves, like you’ve done a hundred times before, you flash a bright smile at the crowd. The only face you somehow manage to catch is Sunghoon’s that’s nearly pressed up against the glass. The rest are a blur, but it gives you some comfort to know there’s at least one person still rooting for you out there.

The first half of your program is hands down your favorite, as it features enough technical difficulty while allowing you to lean into your artistry. You hit your jump combinations flawlessly and execute the elements just the way you want. For the first time in years, your competitive spirit is confident. Unhindered.

Your fire carries you through the first half, until you feel a familiar fatigue pulling at your right hip.

Leading up to this season, almost all skating forums, live commentators, and journalists always positioned your narrative over one central detail: the fact that this is your first season back on the ice after an almost career-ending hip tear.

That was enough reason for you to skip over articles and most social media commentary—reliving your surgery, post-op, and shaky comeback through the eyes of other spectators was too much. You remembered the heartache and depression that manifested when you were injured as an Olympic hopeful, and you’d be damned if you let skeptics drag you back into that mindset. You deserve to be here. You are here to prove that you deserve to move forward.

You grit your teeth, fighting through your spins and pushing into each jump. It’s working until you realize what’s next.

An element highly contested by yourself and your coach was your last jump combination: the double axel, double toe, single loop jump wedged into the second half of your program for maximum point potential. It’s something you’d struggled to execute in the past, but it was a stretch for your recovering body post-injury.

Your coach is probably off to the side praying that you opt for an easier version of this combination, but you decide to press on.

Watch me, you think as you take off. Your entire face scrunches with the effort, but it pays off. You hit the double axel, and the adrenaline rush carries your momentum to hit the double toe as well. As you’re continuing into the last jump, your hip muscles pinch in sharp pain. You flinch, and the falter causes you to underrotate the last jump completely and land on two feet. At this point, it’s a miracle that you don’t fully eat shit in the process.

The crowd gasps. You recover your bearings just enough to finish out the program with somewhat convincing artistry. Your hip burns at the scar site, the muscle underneath fatigued and tender. When the crowd applauds, you skate off to the kiss and cry, trying to keep a smile steady as you hug your coach.

“At least you left it all out there,” he says. That’s his way of saying Not perfect, but it might do.

You force a neutral expression on your face as the camera focuses on your reaction. It’ll be close, especially since a good amount of the women had skated clean. To podium, you need a score close to your season’s best, so the question is obvious: did your mistake ruin your chances?

You fidget with the pink bunny plush from your childhood in your usual kiss and cry tradition. The audience pauses in anticipation, and you feel like you’re going to vomit. Then, you hear your total score.

You’ve done it by two measly points. By the skin of your teeth, you’re making it to the podium. You cry in front of the cameras, too shocked to hold in the sobs heaving from your chest.

❅˚

In your daze and general shock at medaling, you’re hyped up into attending an afterparty before you even know it. It’s hosted by the main sponsor of today’s competition, and you typically never like to go to things like this. Of all people, it’s Sunghoon who ultimately convinces you to go.

“We should celebrate both of our comebacks,” he says with a smile. “Plus, only other skaters will be there.”

It’s enough to get you out the door in the black dress you’d managed to pack in your carry on just in case.

You’re regretting it an hour in as Sunghoon’s pulled into conversation after conversation. He’s always had the larger network between the two of you, which leaves you sipping your drink in the corner as you avoid dragging down his conversations.

You’re feeling buzzed when you feel a tap on your shoulder and hear a familiar voice speak your name.

Your jaw drops to the floor. “Jaemin?”

For the first time in a year, Na Jaemin stands in front of you. He wears a suit that’s a little too formal for this event, but it somehow makes him even more handsome than you remember.

“It’s me,” he laughs.

“I thought this was for skaters only.”

“Ouch,” he pretends to be hurt. “Are you saying I’m not a skater?”

You roll your eyes. “A skater that actually competed today, Jaemin.”

“I know some people. Come on,” he grins. “Are you really that unhappy to see me?”

Along with Sunghoon, you’d grown up attending the same rink as Jaemin. Your trio had been three peas in a pod throughout skating school; you’d even trained as an ice dance pair together for a year until Jaemin and his family decided to specialize him into speed skating. From then on, to your dismay, interactions with him had been few and far in between with your conflicting schedules. The distance only grew as you moved from juniors to then seniors in your respective disciplines.

If Sunghoon was like your brother, Jaemin was the schoolyard crush that never quite faded away. Sure, you’d dated some guys here and there over the years, but any whispers of Jaemin dating sent you scrolling on Instagram in full investigation mode. Considering that he was considered an athlete-turned-influencer with his own fan base, you saw these rumors often.

Even so, you try to play it cool by taking a long sip of your drink. “Of course I’m glad to see you, but when was the last time you even laced up your skates?”

“Ah,” Jaemin shoots you a bright smile, although you can see the nerves peek through his facade as he hesitates. “Well…last week?”

“Last week?” You raise an eyebrow. “As in…you’re thinking about coming back?”

“It’s a work in progress,” he says with a wink.

“Hmm.” Your heart beats wildly in your chest.

He seizes your sarcasm to change the subject. “You look like you’re fully back out there, though.”

“Something like that.”

“Well, you podiumed, which is more than something.” He pauses for a beat before adding, “you looked really good out there.”

The knowledge of Jaemin watching your near-disastrous free skate sends hot embarrassment crawling up your neck.

“My lead from the short program saved my ass. It would’ve looked better if this,” you point to your bad hip, “would behave the way I want it to.”

He frowns. “It’s not fully recovered?”

“It is, but it’s not. Since I spent so much time off, the muscles on my right are weaker than my left, which sucks since my right is my landing leg.” You force a smile. “The road to full-strength recovery is long.”

“As always, you need to be nicer to yourself,” he sighs. “At least you kept Mr. Hops to comfort you in the kiss and cry.”

Your face burns even hotter. “I didn’t think you would remember him.”

Mr. Hops had been Jaemin’s gift to you for your tenth birthday. You’d taken the pink plushie for your first serious competition as a junior, and you’d continued taking him well into adulthood as a good luck charm. Your hip tear had occurred during a competition where you’d left Mr. Hops sitting in your hotel room, which, in your eyes, verified your long-standing superstition.

“Of course I remember,” he smiles wide. “I’m just glad you’ve gotten a bunch of mileage out of him.”

If the earth could open under your feet and swallow you whole, now would be the time. Not only does your childhood crush remember your pink bunny’s name, but he also knows that you’ve been hauling it around everywhere for at least the past decade.

“Well,” you clear your throat. “I think Mr. Hops and his well-traveled wisdom at least reduces the odds of me having a full mental breakdown.”

“You really didn’t need to worry about anything,” he insists. “Out of everyone, I think you were the most bea–”

“Jaemin!” Sunghoon calls. His face is flushed and his breath carries the trace smell of alcohol. “Guys! Everyone wants to drink!!”

You look at Jaemin wildly for help, but he shrugs in a way that conveys what am I supposed to do about it?

You’re pulled into the main group of fellow skaters that are much too drunk; one look at the three of you together has them hollering and forcing drinks into your hands in the name of reunion. You’re not used to partying, and you’re sure as hell not used to being the center of attention among your peers. Even during your prime, you’d preferred to hang around only a couple close friends after any competition.

The spotlight puts you in a vulnerable position to accept any and all drinks. You stay much later than expected, even when Jaemin offers to help you make a quick exit. You’re the most drunk you’ve ever been, both on the physical drinks as well as the atmosphere. Once you're dancing on a table with someone who you think is Cha Jun-hwan, the night is long gone.

The next morning you wake up to banging on the door of your hotel room. Running to the entrance, you peek through the peephole first, which reveals the livid face of your PR manager, Mei.

“God!” Thunk. “Wake up, already!” Thunk thunk.

Mei isn’t the most level headed person, but, even for her, it’s way too early to be this aggressive. Whatever it is, it’s serious.

You take a deep breath, trying to will away the hangover pounding in your head as you swing the door open. “Hey, Mei–”

“Don’t hey me.” She growls. Mei stalks around your room, sticking her head into your bathroom and closet. She only hesitates when peeking around the corner toward your bed then exhales in relief.

“What on earth is going on?” You ask in bewilderment, and your gut twists. The first thing that crosses your mind is that there must be some sort of serious scandal—a failed test for a controlled substance, maybe. You don't know what else would warrant this level of panic.

“Did you have anyone over last night?”

The question catches you so off guard that you nearly trip over your own feet as you follow her erratic path around your room. “What? No!”

Mei searches behind the curtains and even bends down to look under your bed. “Just reminding you that, as your PR manager, it’s to both of our advantages if you’re forthright about any indiscretions…”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You shriek. You didn’t need to hear this from someone who’s known you since your teen years.

Finally registering your genuine confusion, she squints at you. “...I thought you were ignoring me, but have you really not checked your phone at all today?”

Numbness cascades down your nerves. Your phone currently sits charging on your nightstand. “No?”

Your manager shakes her head and fishes out her laptop from her bag, placing it on the hotel dining table. The display immediately brightens into a gossip article published an hour ago.

ICE ROYALTY TO PARTY ANIMALS: A WILD NIGHT FOR THE NATION’S SWEETHEARTS

Your heart sinks low into your chest as you scroll through the contents of the article. It’s you, alright, down to last night’s little black dress while arm-in-arm with both Sunghoon and Jaemin. It’s you, leaving the car disheveled and dangerously close to a wardrobe malfunction. It’s unfortunately you, previous child prodigy, downing shots and dancing on the front page of one of the most popular gossip sites.

Shit, you think. Sunghoon must be freaking out. Jaemin, too.

While both men had gathered the nickname of Ice Prince, it was for entirely different reasons. Sunghoon carried the name for his public aloofness, while Jaemin's persona fulfilled the image of charismatic royalty.

While you’d long accepted the unfair scrutiny of being labeled a “controversial” female athlete, both Sunghoon and Jaemin ruled their private lives with an iron fist. Every post and press release was curated and picked through in order to protect their squeaky clean Ice Prince images–especially with the rising cult following of girls.

And you had messed it all up in one night.

“Was it worth it?” Mei snaps. “Did you have fun? Because it sure looks like it.”

Opening the full slideshow, almost every attendee from last night has been captured. However, the most prominent features are still yourself, Jaemin, and Sunghoon.

Wordlessly, Mei pulls up multiple social media sites, where all commentary centers on the three of you. Most old skating fans remember your friendship as a trio, but many new ones—particularly Jaemin’s new legion of followers—fixate on your presence.

did he fly out just to see her? they’re so together y’all

that picture of her on both of their arms makes me sick THAT SHOULD BE ME

embarrassing that her boyfriend had to witness such a mid program, she should retire already

You nudge the laptop so that you can no longer read the words on the screen. “I was not aware of this.”

“I see.” Mei thinks before gathering all of her things back into her bag. “Take some time to process this. Don’t make any statements to anyone yet. If you’re smart, you’ll turn off your social media notifications. We’ll talk.”

“Okay.” You’ve learned not to question her. She’s gotten you out of enough sticky situations. “I’m sorry, Mei.”

“This is just the beginning, kid,” Mei shoots you a pitying smile as she lets herself out. “Just get yourself ready for the storm that’s coming.”

❅˚

Mei gives you two days.

When she requests your presence at her office, you don’t protest. You get there ten minutes ahead of time and wait politely.

“I’m not going to yell at you,” she sighs when she sees your too-straight posture.

“Wouldn’t be unwarranted,” you mutter. “I shouldn’t have gotten swept up in the atmosphere.”

“As your manager, I agree.” Mei shoots you a look. “As someone who’s always telling you to enjoy your life—I’m glad you finally stopped punishing yourself.”

You tug with your sleeve without commenting.

Mei continues. “Obviously, you already posted the official statement that we sent over yesterday. Nothing else public on social media, aside from the official pictures we got from Nationals. After that—no posting for a while.”

You nod. It’s fair enough. You’d already gotten too many unsolicited comments from strangers. Notifications were decidedly turned off, and only the bravest of souls could field your direct messages.

“There’s been something else I’ve considered for this season,” Mei hesitates. “If you’re open to it.”

Alarm bells go off in your head. “Interviews? Variety content?”

“The ice show,” Mei says.

“Classics on Ice?” You frown. “Sunghoon and I were already planning on skating.”

“You’ll skate there, sure,” Mei says, “but now it’s more.”

“More as in…promotions? Volunteering?”

Your manager shakes her head. “Yes, benefit shows usually yield good coverage. It’s also an opportunity to showcase your relationships within the skating community. During and leading up to the event. Public perception and opinions are unavoidable, but I think if you’re seen out and about being friendly with respected athletes…”

You cringe at the implication: you are simply an athlete—not a respected one. “That’s a fine idea and all, but wouldn’t that harm those athletes? I’m friends with a lot of skaters, but those friendships are away from the cameras. Except Sunghoon.”

“Right. It would be out of the blue to suddenly hang out with skaters you’ve been training and competing against for years, especially with no public history.” She leans forward. “But if there was suddenly an old friend re-entering the community—maybe that would be believable?”

Your blood chills. You recall what Jaemin told you: it’s a work in progress.

“Jaemin?” You fight to push the words out. “Jaemin’s actually returning to skating?”

Mei nods. Her shoulders relax, perhaps relieved that she didn’t have to directly break the news. “His team is making the announcement at the end of the week.”

You’re happy for him—really, you are—but disappointment tugs at your gut. Why hadn’t he told you when you asked?

“So you want me to skate in this ice show and prove that I have at least two friends. Got it. I can do that.”

Mei’s expression twists. “One more thing.”

“Yes?”

“With Jaemin coming back into the skating world, and the rumors already circulating between the two of you…” Mei bites her lip. “His management reached out to discuss, and we came to the conclusion that showcasing a…closer relationship would likely be beneficial for both parties.”

It’s her pleading expression to not freak out that makes the last puzzle piece fall into place. “A PR romance? With Jaemin? How on earth would that benefit either of us? He’ll get angry fans, and I’ll get the angry fans’ death threats!”

“You don’t need to be over the top with it,” Mei’s waving both hands, which could be her attempt to calm you down or to enact a physical barrier from you. Maybe both. “Nothing crazy or formal—people already think you're dating! Just lean into the rumors. Hang out with or without Sunghoon. Jaemin is popular, but it’s common knowledge that you all were rink rats together. You’ll get some fan hate, but we see people overall getting really into it.”

You’re speechless. You run through the impending possibilities in your mind. Jaemin, back in your hometown. Seeing him in passing. Existing in the same sphere for the first time in years.

“I still don’t understand how that would benefit him,” you say.

Mei hums. “His team can explain it more.”

“His team?” Your stomach drops. “They’re coming here? Today?”

“Oh, no,” Mei says. “We’re grabbing lunch with them.”

–

Mei whisks you away in her car. You barely process that you're heading somewhere at all. When the car pulls up in front of the nicest restaurant in the city, you think, briefly, that you must be hallucinating this entire ordeal.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she scoffs as you stumble out of the passenger’s side.

You follow her lead, baffled at the long roman-style columns at the entrance and dim, ambient lighting. Inside, you can’t even tell that it’s daytime, let alone high noon.

You’ve walked through the interior for minutes before you make a sudden left turn into a more private section of the restaurant. There, at a table around the corner, sits Jaemin with his manager.

His manager rises to shake both your and Mei’s hands. “Jeff.”

“Nice to meet you,” you manage to say, although your throat scratches like sandpaper while speaking.

When Jaemin stands up to face you, your brain glitches on the protocol. Is it proper to shake hands with a childhood best friend, especially when you’re both portrayed on the front cover of tabloids together? When you just saw him a few nights ago, and he only hinted at a comeback? When his team is proposing a PR arrangement? Is a hug too casual for this heavy atmosphere?

“Hi.” You shoot him a pained smile and sit down to avoid confronting the issue entirely. Confusion flickers across his face, but he lowers back down into his seat.

Jeff immediately transitions into business. “Thank you for meeting us today. I hope Mei was able to explain our current situation, especially since the headlines have complicated things.”

Mei nods. “She’s aware. Obviously, we’ll have to be very intentional moving forward.”

Your gaze bounces between the two as they discuss details such as social media use and public outings. You try to catch Jaemin’s eye, but he pokes around at an appetizer on his plate.

You try to listen to their brainstorming of strategies, but you can only take so much before your curiosity gets the best of you. You blurt out to Jaemin directly. “What do you get out of this deal?”

Jaemin’s eyes widen, but he still jumps to speak, as if he’s been waiting for your permission to talk. “Well, I—”

“Jaemin wants to re-enter the skating world,” Jeff interjects. “This…relationship could renew interest in his previous success, since you’re very deeply linked with that time period.”

You frown, but you’re starting to get the picture. You’re sure that this morning’s article alone has most likely sent fans hunting for old skating footage. There’s even some old trio pictures still visible on both your and Sunghoon’s Instagram profiles.

You’ve also seen enough fragments of Jaemin’s fanbase online to know that a public girlfriend would likely alienate the most unhealthily attached fans.

Maybe that’s what someone like him needed to be taken seriously in the athletic world again, just like how you wish people would speak about your current skating and instead of the old.

“Anything else I should know? Any stipulations before I offer myself up as bait for one of the most viral athletes known for having crazy fans?”

Jaemin’s gaze shoots up at you in the corner of your eye. You ignore it as you glare down Mei and Jeff.

“There’s one thing our team is thinking of,” Jeff starts. He side eyes you as if you’re a wild animal ready to pounce. “The charity ice show you’re skating in.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What, they’re having a speed skating demo?”

Your sarcasm falls on deaf ears; if he picks up on it, Jeff doesn’t even flinch. “We’ve been told that both you and Jaemin trained together in ice dance before settling in your respective sports.”

Your jaw tightens. “No. I’m not committing to an ice dance routine. It’s way too late to be practicing for that.”

Mei says nothing, but she nods her head.

“As you wish.” Jeff seems unfazed. “We’ll find something else for Jaemin. If you change your mind, please let us know.”

“I won’t. I mean, I don’t foresee that changing, but we’ll let you know,” you hastily add after sensing Mei’s disapproval. “Thank you.”

Mei and Jeff dominate the discussion throughout lunch, and they’re still chatting as you all rise to leave your table. You find yourself in stride with Jaemin, who seems to be looking everywhere but you.

“So. You're moving back,” you say.

He turns towards you, surprised. “I am. I’m moving out of my old place next Monday.”

“So it was a work in progress, after all.” You try to keep your tone light, but it doesn’t prevent the sour edge in your voice from seeping through.

His expression twists with guilt. “I was going to tell you, but then things started moving too fast. I lost the opportunity. This relationship—PR situation—was not my idea.”

You don’t respond. Your ego stings; you’d asked him so many questions out of a genuine interest to catch up, and the whole while he'd held you at arm's length. Your teams concocted this plan, rather than talk it through first with you as a friend.

Jaemin searches your face. “What do you think of all of this?”

You think that you want to delete Instagram altogether, retire from skating, and tell everyone to stuff their clout-chasing proposals up their—

Really, you should calm down. You have to admit that you could benefit from this arrangement. Sure, there would be hate and an uptick in public interest in your private life, but Mei is right. After these headlines, you’re bound to receive more criticism anyway—maybe returning the focus to your oldest friends would remind the world of your younger self. Before all of the hardship. Nostalgia as a vehicle of empathy.

As for Jaemin, you’re not sure what to make of his sudden re-appearance in your life. Any giddiness is now tempered by the jaded realism of your position. Maybe knowing his true intentions is better for your working relationship, since, moving forward, you should be treating this as a professional arrangement.

“Let’s do it,” your laugh sounds harsh and flat. “What more do I have to lose, right?”

❅˚

Upon returning home, you’re allowed one day of sweet radio silence from any obligations. You mute almost all notifications and lose yourself in your favorite shows.

Then, Jaemin’s announcement drops, and all hell breaks loose.

The overall response shows widespread support for Jaemin’s return to speed skating. The speculation of his move, however, has everyone up in a flurry trying to figure out why. Technically, his city’s rink is superior in all of their facilities and amenities. His coach was based mainly in your rink, but he was so close to retirement and was open about only coaching Jaemin.

You’re not sure why he’s chosen to return here, either. From what you know, a large portion of speed skating training isn’t always in the rink, anyway.

Everyone online, however, is staunchly convinced that you must be the reason. You scroll past everything from pregnancy rumors to social media accounts posting threads surrounding the early “evidence” to prove the existence of this secret relationship. As far as your social media feed is concerned, you're practically married.

Half of it seems to be in good fun—a lot of supportive fans make jokes about finally glimpsing into Jaemin’s notoriously private life. The other half of it is not so fun, manifesting in hate comments and threatening direct messages that trigger you to crack down on your account privacy.

Hey, Jaemin texts you after you temporarily set your Instagram to private. You okay?

You don’t respond. Something stubborn and petty wants to double down . So what if you got photographed drinking with friends? Was society really so fucked up that you had to put in work to protect your peace while both of the ice princes got off scot-free?

When you pull your car into the rink parking lot to a couple of flashing cameras, you know that the answer is undoubtedly yes. You’d hoped for a serene first practice back, but you anticipate Jaemin’s presence before you even open the door.

In fact, he’s literally on the other side, sitting at one of the benches between the back entrance and the ice.

Jaemin stands when he sees you. “Hey, good morning—”

You cut to the chase. “What do you want, Jaem?”

“I just thought I’d say hi before your practice,” he says. He seems encouraged by your use of his old nickname; you make a mental note to avoid using it again.

“You got up at the ass crack of dawn to send me off to practice?”

“Uh—no?” Jaemin points over his shoulder. “I’m doing some strength training first in the gym, then I’ll take over the ice for some light stuff after you.”

“Alright then,” you say. You step past him and continue on. “See you.”

“Will I?”

You turn around. “Will you what?”

“Will I see you soon?” Jaemin studies you. “You’re not answering my texts.”

“There’s nothing in our contractthat requires me to text you back,” you point out. You’re all too familiar with the terms and conditions, as you reviewed and signed the paperwork in the days prior. “I can talk to Mei to put a staged outing on the calendar.”

“No.” He exhales and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m trying to say that we should actually do something together. No calendars, no managers. Definitely no cameras.”

You frown. “Why would we do that?”

“Because we’re friends?” There’s a slight gravel to Jaemin's voice. He’s losing his patience with you, and you’re relishing in it.

“We were friends,” you say. Your grip on your duffel bag tightens. “I thought we were still friends up until Nationals. Before you wanted to use our friendship for notoriety.”

“We can still be friends through this,” he says. “It’s not one or the other. And I told you, this wasn’t my idea.”

You sigh. If he’s going to be so persistent about this, you might as well be direct. “Let me be clear. I hate this arrangement. I’m only doing it because Mei thinks it’s a good idea, I trust her, and for once I’d love for people to stop betting against my skating. That’s it. I’m not doing this because we’re friends. That was pretty much ruined once the paperwork was signed.”

Jaemin opens his mouth to argue, but he’s cut off by a voice from the other side of the rink.

“Hey!” Your coach shouts. “That’s a whole lot of talking and not a lot of warming up.”

You give Jaemin your fakest smile. “You heard the man. Have a good work out, Jaemin.”

You put your all into practice to clear your mind. It’s hard, but the determination to stand on your words keeps your focus razor sharp.

When you’re wiping your blades down and stowing away your things, you think that’s the end of it. Then, you hear the sound of the doors to the ice shutting. You straighten your back and peek through the glass.

Jaemin’s already set up a series of small cones that you assume must be to simulate the short track path. He skates around in long, fluid circles.

Your throat catches. He’s always been so beautiful on the ice. Sure, speed and power were par for the course with speed skating, but his edge control and maneuvers are so finely tuned that you're impressed. Even after all these years, Jaemin still looks like a top athlete.

Jaemin’s skates scrape across the ice as he stops. As if he has a sixth sense for your presence, he turns his gaze towards you. He nods, then, after a moment, raises his hand in a wave.

You turn away and stuff your last remaining item into your duffel. You don’t look back as you leave.

Over the next few weeks, your encounters with Jaemin go more or less the same. He waits to greet you in the morning, and you shut him down every time. You’re not sure what he aims to achieve by waiting it out— you’ve made yourself quite clear—but nevertheless he seems to show up day after day, morning after morning.

Until one day, he doesn’t. When you march through the rink one morning, you’re not met with Jaemin but by an old man that you haven’t seen in a very long time.

You start and nearly drop your bag. “Coach Brown?”

Coach Brown’s smile lines spread over his entire face. While he’s gotten older, you haven’t forgotten the kindness that your childhood coach exudes. “I had to come by now that the three musketeers are back under this roof.”

You laugh, but it’s held taut by guilt. “It’s definitely an unexpected development.”

The old man’s eyes gleam with amusement. “Although the three of you are in a bit of a rut, aren’t you?”

Your palms sweat. “You saw Jaemin this morning?”

“Just ten minutes ago,” Coach Brown shrugs. Then, his expression darkens. “You know, the worst thing you could do is turn your back on your past.”

You blink. “Sorry? What did Jaemin—”

“Sunghoon,” he waves you off before continuing. “It’s been explained to me that you are…less than enthused about the situation, but you still should treat your peers with respect. Carving out a path for yourself doesn’t mean you need to block out the others.”

“Coach—” You can’t even fully process his sentence before he cuts you off again.

“You’ve always had the worst temper of the three,” Coach Brown wags his finger in your face. “Calm yourself down and face it like an adult.”

As fast as he came around, he marches away and disappears through the doors leading up to management’s office.

You stare after him long after the doors close, dazed. You feel twelve-years-old again, getting nagged at to be nice to the boys.

After your training ends a bit early, you happen to catch Jaemin as he puts on his skates. “Morning,” you say.

Jaemin’s head whips up so fast that he swings too far back and bumps his head against the back of the boards. “Oh shit—hey?”

“I saw Coach Brown this morning,” you say.

He brightens. “Me too. I hope I’m half as active as him when I’m that age.”

You don’t respond, instead searching his features and body language for any dishonesty. It’s a stare-off—you, chewing on your lip and Jaemin, confused and massaging the back of his head.

That’s it, you admit to yourself. He didn’t tell Coach Brown anything.

And admittedly—both from the open hope in Jaemin’s expression and your shame from being nagged at—perhaps the old man was right about some things, after all.

“Would you be free to grab lunch tomorrow?” You ask before you change your mind. “There’s a new ramen place that opened up last weekend—”

“Yes!” He answers before you’ve fully finished your sentence. “I know which one you’re talking about. I can pick you up?”

“Oh—uh—that’s okay, I think.”

Jaemin shakes his head. “You’re on the way, let me do it.”

Your jaw tightens, but you swallow your pride. “Sure. Noon?”

He nods without saying anything. The two of you stare at each other.

“Well,” you break the awkward silence first. “Have a good practice.”

“You too.” Jaemin cringes. “I mean, shit, have a good day. See you tomorrow.”

At that, you turn away.

Take that, Coach Brown, you think. Look whose temper is adequately controlled.

❅˚

Twenty minutes before noon, you nearly jump out of your skin when there’s a knock at the door.

You rake over your appearance in the mirror and make desperate last-minute touch-ups. Sure, it's just lunch, but you were never sure when a rogue camera might snap pictures of you in public. The paparazzi had ceased showing up outside of the rink after the first two days, but the initial onslaught had left you paranoid of any flash or loud chatter.

“You’re early,” you say as you open the door, a little breathless.

Sunghoon blinks back at you. “I am?”

It’s your turn to stare. “Sunghoon. Why are you here?”

Regardless of your confusion, you step aside to let him in. As always, Sunghoon makes himself comfortable on your living room couch. “I was bored. Wanna get lunch?”

“About that.” You cross your arms. “Jaemin is picking me up in fifteen minutes.”

Sunghoon’s eyebrows raise. “You finally decided to stop hating him?”

“I don’t hate him—” you fume. “I still disagree with how he went about things, but I might have just gotten a little too mad.”

Your friend snorts and mumbles something under his breath.

“What?” You punch his arm.

“Ow!” Sunghoon swats away your swings. “I said big surprise—clearly you’re the most hotheaded one out of all of us.

“Brown said the same thing,” you mutter.

Sunghoon pauses. “Isn’t it a little crazy that people are just letting him go right back to work? Right after his surgery, too.”

You shrug. “He seemed healthy enough to lecture me about Jaemin. He said I had the worst temper out of us three.”

He smirks. “Wow. The old man needed to get involved to get your head out of your ass.”

“And who tipped him off in the first place?”

“And who with the worst temper gave me this red mark on my arm just now?”

Touche. “Anyways,” you change the subject. “Wanna go with us?”

“Um,” Sunghoon grimaces. “Not if it’s going to be awkward.”

“It won’t be,” you insist. You shoot out a quick text to Jaemin: Sunghoon randomly showed up at my place. Mind if he comes?

Within thirty seconds, your phone vibrates again. Of course. The more the merrier, it says.

“See,” you hand your phone to him. “Jaemin doesn’t care.”

“He’s not in the position to object,” Sunghoon laughs. “From that wall of text? This is clearly the first time you’ve texted him in weeks. He’s probably just saying yes so that you don’t change your mind and run away.”

You roll your eyes. “So you’re not coming?”

“I didn’t say that,” Sunghoon says. "I'm hungry."

You would’ve been more nervous about merging the group if you’d known about Sunghoon’s intrusion beforehand, but it works out well for the car ride over. Jaemin and Sunghoon seem to pick up right where they put their friendship down.

Their conversation goes from topic to topic, but your mind is reeling. It’s too easy, riding as a passenger in Jaemin’s old car, to feel like you’re a teenager again.

The new ramen place is tucked away in a plaza constructed in the last two years. It’s still finding its niche—the only other businesses in the center are a pharmacy and a dollar store—and the ramen place is the most exciting thing to have happened to it.

“Oof,” Sunghoon says as you approach the shop. From the outside, you can see that there’s only a handful of people inside. “Is that too awkward?”

Jaemin steps forward. “It’s not empty.” He swings the door open before any of you can think about it further.

Jaemin and Sunghoon are full steam ahead with their conversations. You’re jealous, in a way. Both of them have so much natural charisma that it overflows into all their interactions. On the other hand, you feel like you always have to work for it.

You all end up ordering different things from the menu. You’re halfway through observing the interior decor when you realize the rest of the table has gone silent.

“So…” Jaemin says. He leans his head into his hand. “How’s it been?”

“How’s it been?” You repeat.

“Since Nationals,” Jaemin clarifies.

Sunghoon stiffens in the corner of your vision. You try to level your facial expression.

“I mean,” you can’t help the wry smile rising to your face. “I deleted social media from my phone. Mei’s posting for me so I don’t have to see the hate. I’m avoiding the news outlets for the same exact reason."

Jaemin swallows. “Right.”

“What about you?” It’s as much as a way to change the topic as it is genuine curiosity. “How are your fans taking the return announcement?”

“Mostly well,” he admits. “Older fans are excited. Younger fans are confused but trying to be supportive, which I appreciate.”

The elephant in the room goes unaddressed. You saw the comments before officially deciding to hand the reins over to Mei. You know for a fact that there were rumors on top of rumors swirling around your connection to both Jaemin and Sunghoon.

“I delete all of the hate comments,” Sunghoon says as if reading your mind. “Just for my own peace of mind, really. I can’t stand seeing that shit on my page.”

“You should try filtering words,” Jaemin suggests. “That’s helped diffuse some of it for me.”

You frown. While you can tell that both have good intentions, it doesn’t make you feel any better. In fact, it’s worse—you feel like a taboo to hide from the world, despite your status as a well-known figure in the skating world.

“You don’t have to delete or filter anything.” You feel a deep sense of resoluteness. “Let them talk.”

The guys exchange glances. “Sure, people will talk,” Jaemin says. “Doesn’t mean you need to entertain seeing it.”

You shrug, looking between the two as your bowls of ramen are placed in the table space in front of you. “Filtering out words won’t stop them. We’ll just give them something to talk about before they move on.”

Jaemin’s smile curls. A hint of his teeth pokes through. “What do you suggest we do to make them talk?”

You think for a moment before holding your phone in the air with a shake of your hand. “Pose for me?”

❅˚

After that first lunch, talking to Jaemin gets easier. You chat briefly whenever you run into each other at the rink, and sometimes you grab a post-practice coffee if your schedules line up. You don’t text, but Jaemin sends a few skating memes after you log back into Instagram—a cautious way to test the water.

“What’s your goal with coming back?” You ask during one brunch after training.

Jaemin’s eyebrows raise, but he doesn’t lose his easy smile. “My goal?”

“I mean—” you scramble to find the right words. Hell, you should think before speaking sometimes. “Why decide to come back now? You have so many opportunities outside of skating.”

Skaters who would kill for his following. Not many people would intentionally halt their own momentum, let alone actively endanger it with a fake relationship.

Jaemin leans back in his chair. “Why did you come back? After your injury?”

“Rude. I asked first.” Regardless, you think out loud. “No one’s actually asked me why. Everyone just assumed that I would try to come back after I was ready.”

“Would you have, even if they hadn’t assumed?” He asks.

“Yes,” you say without hesitating.

“Why?”

“It’s not what people would expect from me,” you start. “I knew it was going to be a long road to any sort of podium, and I didn’t even expect to get there at all. I came back…to see if I could, I guess. Skating has just been such a big part of my life; I wasn't ready to give it up.”

Jaemin’s smile brightens. “That’s my answer too.”

“Uh…” You bite your lip. “It’s not that I don’t admire you for coming back, but you weren’t injured. You left first.”

“I did.” Jaemin thinks for a moment. “When I quit, I genuinely thought that skating had nothing more to offer me. But the more time passed, the more I realized that something was missing.”

This is the most you’ve ever heard him talk about his choice to leave. He had never spoken about it outside of the initial press statement, and he’d all but disappeared from the community after. “What made you realize something was missing?”

“Ah, you know.” Jaemin scratches the back of his head. “Just intuition.”

You stare at him. “You came back after years based on some magical intuition? Right out of thin air?”

His cheeks turn pink. “What’s wrong with trusting your intuition?”

“Just seems too good to be true, I guess.” You take a long sip of your drink. “Ignore me. I’m a pessimist nowadays.”

Silence. Then, Jaemin speaks up again. “If you have to know, I saw some old footage. I got the urge to get on the ice, so I did. Casually skating didn’t feel like it was enough. I felt the pull to do everything—compete the right way, by coming home and reconnecting with everyone.”

It’s like his dark eyes are looking through you and your thoughts.

You think back to the months following your injury. In the darkest moments when you considered giving up skating for good, it always led to reminiscing via old videos. Everything from old competition footage to videos of you messing around with the other kids—sometimes it was your last anchor to hope. More than the nostalgia interwoven in the past, you craved to perform again.

“I know exactly what you mean,” you smile, then hesitate. “I’m glad you’re back.”

The seriousness melts away. He wiggles his eyebrows. “Mean it?”

You snort. “Forget it.”

“Too late,” Jaemin points to his temples. “It’s already saved here. No camera needed.”

❅˚

You push on your bike, fighting for your life to pedal to the music while trying to follow the spin instructor’s directions. Beads of sweat roll down your skin, and your throat feels dry.

You sneak a glance at Jaemin. The bastard looks like he’s barely breaking a sweat. In fact, if it he wasn't right next to you, anyone could easily mistake him as the instructor.

He leans toward your bike. “Are you doing okay?”

“I have decent cardio!” You pant over the bass-loaded music. “I’m fine!”

You sound so not fine that Jaemin throws his head back in laughter.

“You two in the back!” The instructor calls out. “Less talking, more pedaling!”

There were only so many cafes close to the rink to try, so working out together is your most recent attempt at activities together. Jaemin insisted that it’s valuable cross-training for your respective sports—you’re not sure that you agree with the sentiment for your discipline, but it’s a nice supplement to your training schedule.

“What did you think about that instructor?” Jaemin asks as he holds the door open for you.

You snort. “Too intense and too much bass boosting.”

Your phone vibrates with texts and phone calls. You don’t even flinch as you start blocking and reporting the unknown callers.

“Wow, you’re popular,” Jaemin jokes while he backs out of his parking spot.

You don’t say anything. There’s no use in dragging Jaemin into it; not when there’s nothing to be done. At the very least, you appreciate that Jaemin always offers to drive.

“Can I ask you something?” Jaemin asks as he pulls up to your place.

“No,” you laugh before registering the nervousness creeping in on his expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Well,” Jaemin clears his throat. “Remember when my team brought up performing an ice dance together at that benefit show?”

“I do.”

“I know that it wasn’t brought up in a very good way.” Jaemin’s eyes flit around your face. “But do you think there’s any part of you that would be open to reconsidering that decision?”

The question makes you freeze. “Why?”

“My team won’t let up about it. I keep telling them that there’s really no need for me to participate…”

He’s continuing into some sort of explanation, but you’re hung up on the first part of his sentence. Sure, Mei and Jeff had been the catalyst for your reunion, but something about the mention of my team douses you as a cold reminder. In the midst of early morning rides and deep conversations over brunch, you’d forgotten that this was all manufactured.

“Our agreement ends right after the ice show, right?” You ask.

He nods. “But it’s just the official clause—of course, I want to—”

“Can you please tell your team that I will not be entertaining this notion again?” You reach for the door.

“Wait, stop. What did I say?” Jaemin’s climbing out of the car too, and a high pitch beeps over and over as he abandons the driver’s seat.

“Maybe I’m just tired,” you huff. “I see you almost every day, and I’m still training. Am I supposed to be all happy-go-lucky all the time? It’s not like we’re friends.”

Jaemin physically recoils. “This again? We are friends.”

“I hadn’t talked to you in years before you decided to come back,” you state matter-of-factly. “We’re bound by a contract. We’re not friends, Jaemin. We’re coworkers.”

You turn on your heel and walk towards your place.

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” Jaemin calls after you. “You just get to say your piece and storm off?”

You face him. “Go on, then. What do you want to say?”

He stands there for a minute, and his face flashes through a chain of expressions. Jaemin opens his mouth to speak but then closes it again. He shakes his head before shutting himself back in his car. The tires squeak against the asphalt as he drives away.

You pace around your house in angry circles. You should feel better, but instead you generate new reasons to be mad at him. Aside from the contractual nature of your arrangement, didn’t he understand that interfering with your art was an entirely different matter? You could go on a million fake dates and post content on social media, but your time on the ice is the only thing that’s truly yours.

You’re halfway through rage-cleaning your kitchen when your screen lights up with Jaemin’s name. You ignore it, but then Sunghoon calls second, then Mei calls next.

You choose to call Sunghoon back, ready to defend your outburst, but your stomach plummets when you pick up the phone to Sunghoon sniffling.

All your anger dissipates into fear. “What happened?”

“Coach Brown collapsed today,” he rasps. “They're not sure if he's going to make it.”

❅˚

Mei and Jeff sit at the front of the conference room. Mei openly observes you and Jaemin. Jaemin sits scrolling on his phone with the hood of his jacket pulled over his head. You cross your arms and try to look anywhere else.

Mei and Jeff review the last month in social media posts and general media coverage. You nod to yourself without listening—they always say the same things anyway: good reception, decent reach, more posting if possible. Today’s presentation is much shorter than expected, with no concrete dates to post strategic content.

You take it as a sign to leave and grab your bag. Jaemin moves as well, putting his phone into his pocket.

“I’m sure you both are worried about Coach Brown,” Mei says suddenly.

You both freeze in place. Your eyes dart to Jaemin, to gauge his reaction, but he’s already looking at you.

You had thought about texting Jaemin a million times since the news broke. You’d checked in on Sunghoon, but he was the type of person to hold things in until later down the line. You didn’t want to push him too hard, since you’re sure that he’s hurting just as much as you.

Looking at the glassiness of Jaemin’s eyes, you’re certain that he’s thought about reaching out to you, too.

“He'll fight through it,” your voice croaks against the silence. “He was a great man.”

“The greatest,” Jaemin says without taking his eyes off of you.

“This may feel a little premature, but the foundation reached out,” Mei prefaces. “They’re having part of the ice show's proceeds go directly to Coach Brown’s family. They asked to confirm if both of you—and Sunghoon, of course—are still planning on participating?”

“Of course,” you answer.

“Are they sure they still want all of us?” Jaemin asks. “I’m not competing in figure skating or ice dance.”

Mei shrugs. “You were in talks before, but I’m guessing it’s because the three of you are his most prominent students. Of course, you went to speed skating eventually, but you were still under him for the entirety of your juniors career.”

Jaemin nods to himself. “It’s relatively short, right?”

Mei hesitates. “Well, I’m not quite sure of the hard details—”

Jaemin shakes his head. “It doesn’t really matter. I’m in. I’ll figure it out.”

“We can skate together.”

It’s like the entire room has forgotten about your attendance; all three heads snap toward you, eyes wide.

“You want to?” Mei’s eyebrows climb to her hairline. “Now?”

That’s not exactly a great vote of confidence, but you persist nonetheless. “It’s going to help Coach Brown and his family. It’s as simple as that.”

“Will that be okay to prepare for?” Jaemin blurts out. “While you’re training for everything else, I mean.”

You shrug. “Sunghoon’s also competing.”

“It’s just a lot to balance.”

You stare at him. You’re flush with irritation, but you manage to keep your voice level as you respond. “I’ll manage.”

“Well,” Jeff interjects. He clears his throat loudly and moves to disconnect his computer from the room's screen. “That should be more than enough for today. We’ll both be in touch for details on the exhibition, but our next meeting should be in two weeks as usual.”

“Thanks, Jeff,” you drone as you gather your bag and exit.

You’re not even halfway down the stairwell when a hand latches onto your elbow.

“Wait,” Jaemin rasps. “Talk to me. Five minutes. Please.”

He’s panting like he’s run a mile. You nod. “What is it?”

“You don’t need to say yes, you know.” Jaemin says. “I wouldn’t blame you if you just wanted to work on your own program right now.”

You bristle. “Are you going to ask Sunghoon the same question?”

Jaemin leans his weight against the stairwell railing. “One day we’re laughing and talking about anything and everything, and then the next day you’re telling me that we’re not friends. One day you draw the hard boundary that we will never perform together, and then now you’re willing to. Why are you so upset with me?”

“I’m willing only for the sake of Coach Brown.” Your restrained and rational side snaps. You talk a step forward into Jaemin’s personal space. “I’ve been mad, Jaem. I’ve been pissed since you made your stupid announcement to come back to our rink—some of your crazy fans have found my real phone number, did you know that?”

He's speechless.

You continue. “Ever since coming back from my injury, I can’t do anything right. If I talk about my mental health as an athlete, I’m seen as complaining. If I can’t land a jump? I’m washed up. If my makeup is looking a little off on competition day? My age is showing, and I should feel lucky that someone so old can still compete. People hate me so much that it’s my best PR strategy to become someone’s hated girlfriend, because the new hate is considered an improvement from my old hate.”

“I didn’t know you were being harassed on your personal number,” he mutters.

“And why would you?” You scoff. “It doesn’t matter that we used to know each other, okay? Even though everyone down to Coach Brown wants us to be so close—”

“Coach Brown said something to you before?” Jaemin leans in, which makes you take a step back.

“Well, kinda—”

“Please,” he begs. Desperation lines his eyes. “Tell me what you talked about. I could barely catch him here because of my odd hours, let alone talk to him. I regret that more than anything.”

Your anger wanes. You feel a flash of pity followed by a stark reminder of your surroundings—what were you doing, yelling at Jaemin in a stairwell?

You wrack your brain for a white lie, but nothing comes up on the spot. You’ve already exposed it anyway, so you might as well tell the truth. “He told me to control my temper and stop being mad at you for nothing.”

You expect something like a snarky comment, but Jaemin just looks surprised. “He knew it’s fake?”

You shrug. “I didn’t tell him anything. He either knows us too well or heard something through the grapevine. Or he heard me yelling at you and put two and two together.”

Jaemin snorts, but he doesn’t respond.

You shift uncomfortably. “That was pretty much it. He said the worst thing I could do was turn my back on my past.”

Jaemin pauses for a long time before speaking. “Can I say something to you? No Mei, no Jeff, no social media?”

Your heart feels stuck in your throat. You swallow thickly. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry.” His gaze burns through you. “I should’ve talked to you more during and after Nationals. I definitely should’ve warned you about the batshit plan our agents were making—I know that probably made you lose trust in me instantly.”

Jaemin glances at you, no doubt expecting some sort of correction or flash of emotion, but you remain silent. He continues: “I know it’s stupid, but they presented me with possible options for a PR relationship — it was going to happen regardless to acclimate the public to my return to skating. They suggested you last, but I think I agreed too fast. I should’ve talked to you before my team made contact with yours.”

Your mind swims with the new information. A laugh slips from your throat without realizing it. “I think I might’ve been the worst choice possible.”

He reddens. “Coach Brown gave me the idea, if I’m being honest.”

Your stomach drops. “What do you mean?”

“I ran into him here while practicing. Before everything, and before I officially planned to come back.” He admits. “I was venting to him about the concept of a PR relationship—I promise you I didn’t want to—and he started to rehash his past troubles with the media.”

“He got mad when Sunghoon got coverage about his real high school girlfriend,” you recall. “He would’ve lost his mind at a fake one.”

“He didn’t say anything weird,” Jaemin shrugs. “Just a hypothetical: ‘wouldn’t it be nice if someone you feel comfortable with could stand in, instead of doing something like that with a stranger.’”

What was it that Coach Brown had said to you? You should be grateful that he’s someone you feel comfortable around.

The edges of your mouth curl into a bittersweet smile. “That bastard.”

Jaemin smiles back, and your heart flips.

Coach Brown had essentially influenced this entire production. The realization causes tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. “Jaemin—”

“I should've talked to him more.” His eye grow misty. “I fucked up. I should’ve spent time with him, instead of focusing on all of the drama.”

You twitch forward, but you stop yourself short of hugging him. You pat his back in slow taps while holding back your own tears. “It’s not your fault. None of us knew that this would happen.”

He stiffens at your touch. “You don’t need to comfort me, you know. I know you hate me.”

Your stomach drops. “I never hated you, Jaemin. I was just hurt—it felt like you were using me.”

Once you speak it, you know it to be the truth. Try as you might, you could never hate Jaemin. Even if given away ten years ago, you know that he will always hold part of your heart.

“That was never my intention,” he whispers. “I know it’s hard to believe.”

“I see that now,” you acknowledge. “I’ve been an asshole, Jaem. I want to start over. ”

Jaemin sniffs back his remaining tears. He offers you a weak smile. “I’d like that.”

You reach towards him with your hand. “Friends?”

His hand closes over yours, only to pull you forward into a big hug. “Friends. Always.”

Your hands rise from your sides and travel up his back. You squeeze him tight. “Always. I’m sorry it took me so long to remember.”

“One, two, three, turn, two, three—” your choreographer, Maci, counts your steps with a patient tone.

You focus on your footwork. You’re still practicing without music; it’s just Maci’s voice mixed with your shoes squeaking against the floor. You extend your right arm behind you in a soft sweep, and you imagine it making a perfect line with your posture.

Instead, your tricep sticks against something soft yet clammy.

“Mmph—” Jaemin grunts behind you. “That’s my face.”

You stop and wipe your arm. “Sweaty.”

In sync, you both walk to the edge of the room to chug your water.

Practice for the ice show was truly underway, and you all had spent the last week learning choreography off ice. You and Sunghoon had quickly picked up on your routines for your individual portions. Sunghoon would do his routine completely by himself, as he would for any normal exhibition. You, however, would split yours into two: one minute by yourself, then one minute with Jaemin.

It wasn’t a complete disaster, but you were picking it up together slower than either of you anticipated. Jaemin struggled to lead, while you would misjudge your distance and step on his foot—or, in this case, slap him with your tricep.

“I might as well not be there,” Jaemin jokes with you during water breaks. “What happened to all of our training?”

“Our ice dance training from nearly ten years ago?”

“I think you legitimately forget that Jaemin is there if you don’t see him,” Sunghoon observes from the back. Although he almost always finishes before you, he tends to stick around. “You should skate with a rearview mirror.”

“Ha, ha.”

“Actually…” Maci looks lost in thought before nodding her head. “You have a point.”

You gape at her. “You think I need a rearview mirror?”

“Of course not,” she says. Noticeably, Sunghoon deflates slightly in his corner. “I just meant that he has a point…somewhere in there. You guys are taking up completely different spaces”

You both blink at her.

She rolls her eyes, then taps through her phone. A classic waltz plays over the small speakers overhead. “Dance in hold. Just a basic waltz, please.”

Jaemin grins and bows deeply. He extends a hand toward you. “May I have this dance?”

“Corny,” you groan while taking his hand with your right. You straighten your posture and bring your other hand to hold onto his bicep. Likewise, his right hand tucks over your shoulder blade. You’re both glistening with sweat, but you feel goosebumps raise where his hand glides over your skin.

The music continues to play overhead, but neither of you move. Jaemin waits another two measures before leading you across the floor. It’s a simple waltz, but you feel hyperaware of every movement, big and small. You swear Jaemin’s fingers tighten where your hands are clasped together.

“There you go!” Maci calls out.

Right when you’re thinking that’s a green light to call it, she shouts out again. “Now hold eye contact!”

You look up, ready to break the silence with a joke, but your smile drops when you see Jaemin's eyes. They’re dark and captivating—that much hasn’t changed—but there’s an undercurrent of something else that leaves you paralyzed. You nearly forget to breathe, as you have to focus all of your attention on matching his steps.

“How does this pace feel?” He asks while holding eye contact. There’s a ghost of a smirk.

Your heart races so fast that you can’t hear the music over your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “It’s a great pace. Feels good.”

You only realize the innuendo after it’s too late. Your face heats as he laughs at you.

“Alright!” Maci shouts out. “First run through of the partner section with the music! I’ll count you off.”

You start alone in the center of the floor with your arms extended, since that’ll be your position on the ice once your solo wraps up. Similar to how it will be on the ice, you don’t see Jaemin as he approaches; his hands rest on your waist first.

Your heartbeat instantly spikes; you’re unsure if it’s due to the contact or the adrenaline.

You brace your core as he lifts you and turns the two of you in a slight spin.

We’re really doing this, you realize as you extend through the lift. It’s a little wobbly—both of your faults, you think—but you get through it. Jaemin lowers you back onto your feet. Even though the landing is a little rough, a lift is a lift.

You turn out to face each other. Jaemin extends his arm toward you. His features are bright and confident, as if teasing you to come closer. For a split second, it reminds you of the easy stage presence he always carried as a performer.

You take his hand and continue with the rest of the routine. As this is an exhibition show and your dance together is an homage to Coach Brown, all of the elements within this showcase are mostly basic in nature. Sure, you both can tackle the various step sequences with a languid artistry not intuitive to non-skaters, but it’s nowhere close enough in difficulty to a competition program.

“You’re thinking too much,” Jaemin murmurs through a spin.

“I’m worried we’ll look silly,” you say as you part.

“No worrying when we’re dancing,” he says. “Just think about me.”

You do. You hold eye contact throughout the remainder of the step sequence, and all your thoughts revolve around him. His positioning—should you adjust a bit so you’re a little closer? You even focus on how your lines are extending towards him. Mostly technical things, but above all—Jaemin is like the sun, pulling everything towards him, and you can’t help but be swept into his orbit.

Your last element is a stationary lift where Jaemin anchors you by your waist and legs to hold you horizontally. Your entrance works, his hand grips your waist, but you flinch the second his other hand grabs your inner thigh.

“Oof—” your lower half drops to the ground, although Jaemin’s hold on your torso is enough to prevent full impact. “Thanks.”

For the first time, you glance around at your audience. Sunghoon looks away and scratches the back of his neck. Maci’s cheeks tinge with pink as she frantically reaches to stop the music.

“What’s wrong?” You ask with a frown as Jaemin pulls you to your feet. “Did it look bad?”

“No, uh—” Maci claps her hands together in light, awkward taps. She clears her throat. “It’s like you never left, Jaemin.”

“You guys are going to get questions about this routine for the rest of your lives,” Sunghoon snorts. “But it’ll get the donations going.”

Jaemin releases his hold on your hand. You flex it thoughtfully; you hadn’t realized that you hadn’t let go.

You look at your dance partner, but Jaemin’s expression tightens into something unreadable. “Yup, great for charity.”

Your day continues as usual—more individual runthroughs, a snack after practice, and mindless chats with your little group. But when you sleep that night, parsing through your day, you can’t shake the phantom feeling of his hand in yours.

❅˚

“I have to ask you a question,” Sunghoon says before you even have the chance to shut the passenger door.

You blink at him through sleepy eyes. “Right now? It’s 5am.”

Sunghoon puts the car into drive and heads in the direction of Jaemin’s apartment.

“So?” Your crankiness asks. “What’s your question—?”

“Do you have feelings for Jaemin?”

“Uh,” you’re genuinely at a loss for words. “Are we talking about currently, or when we were in middle school?”

He doesn’t respond. There’s not even any music playing in the car, so you squirm in your seat against the silence.

You clear your throat. “Why are you asking?”

“Because the two of you look like you’re ready to jump each other at any moment.”

“Ew, Hoon.”

"You're also acting different." Sunghoon gives you a look. “You would’ve already told me if it was anyone else.”

You break eye contact. Dancing with Jaemin again had asserted one thing: you could not deny your physical attraction to him. The chemistry overflowed, even when you watched practice footage back. Sure, he’s always been your type, but his face had grown more handsome and his body more chiseled into adulthood.

When it came to your emotional connection to him, however, your feelings are a big, jumbled mess. Becoming close again has been easy, but something in the air lingers between you two. It's difficult to differentiate the layers of physical attraction, nostalgia, and genuine fondness. How could you explain the complexities to Sunghoon when you barely understood them yourself?

“It’s just partner chemistry and the tone of our routine.” You groan. “Calm down.”

Sunghoon glares at you as he pulls into Jaemin’s apartment complex. He doesn’t respond, but his expression is crystal clear: I’m going to ask you about this again.

“Good morning,” Jaemin sings as he enters the car. “You guys are grumpier than usual.”

You and Sunghoon exchange a look; when he pointedly looks back at the road without a word, you figure he’s leaving any explanation to you.

You cross your arms. “You’re five minutes late.”

Jaemin snorts. “Touche.”

The rest of the drive is quiet. The heater in Sunghoon’s car fights against the cold air outside, but you pull your jacket around you nonetheless.

Starting today, the two of you are practicing your routine for the show on the actual ice. While the cast was just formally announced last week, the post had generated buzz almost immediately. All the marketing team had to do was put the list of names in their caption, and the internet did the rest. After all, what other opportunity would there be to watch the Na Jaemin skate outside of his discipline?

You’re happy that the show guaranteed to have a sold out audience and likely record breaking fundraising. It’s the whole reason why you both chose to participate in the first place, but you’d underestimated the pressure that came with it.

“You’ll finish your section with a spin,” Maci says as she walks you through the last of your solo steps. “And that is where Jaemin will come in.”

“Finally! I’m here!” Jaemin chimes in.

Both you and Sunghoon roll your eyes.

“Let’s see how many of the skills you remember,” you say as you catch your breath.

“I’ll tell the instructors to save a spot for you in Basic 1,” Sunghoon adds on. "You can learn how to skate with those new ice dance boots you bought."

Jaemin flips both of you off.

You step onto the bench while Sunghoon skates away to run through his third of the program.

You scroll through your phone as Sunghoon starts his routine. It’s not as if you don’t respect his skating; on the contrary, you never miss a performance. You just tune in for the big moments, which means that you don’t have to be as alert for these initial sessions.

While you’re nonchalant, Jaemin can’t tear his eyes away.

“If you told me ten years ago that he would be this graceful, I wouldn’t believe you,” the words fall out half under his breath.

You laugh. “Feed that line to the press.”

Jaemin’s eyes flit to yours. “You wouldn’t.”

You raise your hands into the air. “Kidding. I know exactly what you mean.”

From the beginning, Sunghoon had taken the most time to progress. All three of you had been considered advanced for your age group, but you and Jaemin had always been ahead of the curve.

Now, your friend was known for his focus on artistic elements; in many ways, you felt like he truly embodied the emotions of the characters he was portraying. You’d found that element of skating more difficult after your injury—you’d never been that good of an actor in the first place, and post-accident you didn’t find yourself that invested in pretending to be someone else.

“Do you ever regret not sticking with figure skating or ice dance?” You find yourself asking.

He shrugs. “Hard to say since we’ll never know my real potential. Although I did like the acting aspect of portraying a character.”

“So speed skating still has your heart,” you laugh. “Has it at least been worth diving back into it for a little bit? The theatrics of it all?”

Jaemin turns to you. He doesn’t smile at all, and his tone is dead serious. “It is. I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world.”

Your body hums in response from your heart down to your stomach. “Why’s that?”

He pauses. Then, without breaking eye contact, he smiles and leans in toward you. “What do you think?”

Jaemin smells faintly of oranges. Your head spins at the proximity. You can’t come up with something witty, even if you wanted to. “I–”

At the same time, Sunghoon loses his footing and falls to the ice with an oof. Both of your heads whip towards your friend, who rises and wipes the ice off of his clothes.

“You good?” You half-shout toward your friend.

He shoots you a thumbs up in response before continuing.

Jaemin gazes at you, but you’ve lost your nerve.

“It’s nice to be here with both of you again,” you say as you unlock your phone and sit back down. “It’s as if you never left.”

“Me too,” Jaemin says softly. “It’s just like old times.”

❅˚

It’s three weeks before the show. You rush to the rink alone this time to fit a makeup practice into your and Jaemin’s busy schedules. You groan internally knowing that it falls on your rest day, but the practice is needed. Between both of your training schedules, you had to take the free moments when they come.

You pick up coffees on the way. It’s the first time you’ve driven to practice by yourself in a week, and your nerves rise as you drive closer and closer.

There shouldn’t be anything to be nervous about. Sure, you and Jaemin still have parts of your routine to work on, but progress has been smooth up to this point.

You’re unable to shake off the feeling as you arrive thirty minutes early. You turn off your car and linger in the driver’s seat. You have two options: scroll on your phone in the car or head in early. The latter wouldn’t make sense under normal circumstances—if Jaemin wasn’t practicing.

You glance at the two drinks sitting in your cupholders. Surely there’s no harm in peeking?

You exit the car, both drinks in hand, before you can change your mind. You enter the rink with a sheepish energy, although you’re doing absolutely nothing wrong.

Jaemin’s alternating through basic circle skills. His coach watches at the sideline with a stopwatch in one hand and a phone recording the drill in its entirety from a stand.

More than the difficulty of speed skating itself, you can’t believe that Jaemin has been balancing it alongside the training for the gala. Not only are the skates completely different, but the main mechanics require raw power and endurance. Much different from the slower, technical precision of ice dance.

Despite no spins or jumps, he makes it look graceful. You make a mental note to attend his first competition. You could watch him skate forever, regardless of discipline.

Jaemin’s coach calls him in, reviewing the footage and giving feedback. His expression is neutral, and Jaemin merely nods and repeats the drill each time. It goes on that way until the end of his practice time.

You wave as Jaemin exits off the ice and down the ramp toward you. He blinks, and his steps stutter for a moment before he continues.

“Morning,” you avoid eye contact as you hold out his iced coffee. He hadn’t noticed you during his practice, but you feel shy nonetheless. “Got here a little early.”

“Oh,” Jaemin grimaces. “So you saw all that?”

“What do you mean?” You ask. “I thought you looked great.”

He scoffs. He focuses on something distant over your shoulder. “I don’t know if I would describe it as great.”

You’re at a loss for words. The scenario feels familiar—hell, you’d gotten this way during practice for your solo exhibition—but you don’t have enough technical knowledge of speed skating to immediately understand what happened. Beyond that, it’s rare to see Jaemin so quiet.

Your expression must be comically transparent, because you watch his eyes lock to yours and register your wide stare.

“Sorry, you just caught me at a weird practice,” he clears his throat. “I’ll be ready in fifteen?”

The gesture does little to settle you, but you manage your own uneasy smile. “Take your time. I’ll warm up.”

You’ve never been more grateful for the familiarity of center ice. You run through a quick warmup routine and even squeeze in a couple rough rehearsals of your solo routine for the show.

“Looks good,” Jaemin says as he finally steps onto the ice. “I almost feel bad to make you split your program in half.”

“You’re not making me do anything.” You frown. After everything the two of you have been through to get to this point, his sudden minimization makes you worry.

“Well, you know,” he says, alternating between the inner and outer edges of his blades in small swizzles.

“No, I don’t know,” you shake your head stubbornly. You glide in front of him without breaking eye contact. “I’m doing this because I want to. I want to skate with you.”

It’s the most forward you’ve been, but his expression doesn’t budge. Instead, he just nods. “Shall we?”

The two of you run through the routine a few times, but it’s as though the last few weeks have been for nothing. No matter how many times you restart or run through the counts slowly, the two of you struggle to sync. Rather—you know you’re hitting your movements, but Jaemin merely seems to be going through the motions.

When his hold on you wobbles on the ending pose, you snap yourself out of his arms and huff. “Okay, seriously. We’re done for today. Let’s go.”

Of all things, that seems to wake Jaemin from his daze. He skates after you. “Wait, I’m just off today—”

You ignore him, stepping off of the ice and into your skate guards. You briefly turn around to catch his eye.

Jaemin’s hovering on the ice by the door, watching you. His eyes plead.

You wave your arm towards you in a come here gesture. His face brightens, and he hurriedly follows after you.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out when he’s close to you.

You shake your head. “Wanna get lunch?”

-

You stare at each other from across the table.