wc: 0.6k; established relationship, fluff, talks about marriage, reader is being carried, and also drunk and a bit of a brat, kai is very in love; SFW
a/n: recently watched to do ep.166 with @blizzardfluffykpop and my key take aways were a) kai seems p good at handling bratty behaviour and b) kai can and would carry you (...maybe not as effortlessly as depicted here but lemme indulge myself)
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“This is practice,” you explained, a big drunk smile painted all over your face as Kai maneuvered both of you into your shared flat. It’d been quite a struggle to unlock the front door without dropping you, but you’d refused to get down, and it wasn’t like Kai was going to stop indulging you now after he’d already carried you up the stairs to your 2nd floor apartment. He was a weak man when it came to you, and he didn’t even mind it.
He kicked the door shut behind the two of you and tiptoed out of his shoes. “Practice for what?”
“Our wedding night,” you whispered, as if it was something scandalous and secret, though your drunk self didn’t quite manage to keep your voice down, “You’ll have to carry me over the threshold then, too. But with my dress and all, I’ll be sooo heavy. You better work out.”
“I think I can handle it,” he hoisted you up a little higher to prove his point as he carried you down the hallway, “And who said I was going to marry you?”
Immediately, a pout appeared on your lips and your eyebrows pulled into a frown, “Were you going to marry someone else? Who?”
He shrugged, because he couldn’t help himself from wanting to tease you a bit when you were drunk and moody like this. “Who knows?”
The frown deepened even further, “Do you really think anyone else would marry a nerd like you?”
“You think no one would?”
“You suck,” You averted your gaze, your response coming out in a mumble, “Of course a lot of people would. But you should indulge me at times like this.”
“Sorry love,” he paused to leave a small peck on your forehead, “Of course there’s no one else I would marry but you.”
“Thank you,” you replied, emphasizing each syllable.
Kai just chuckled, turning to nudge open the door to the bedroom with his shoulder, cozy bed with your (mostly his) zillion plushies ready to swallow you up. He set you down at the foot of the bed, and you just flopped over to the side like a sack of potatoes while he crouched down to take off your shoes.
“You will though, right?” You mumbled into the mattress. Your voice sounded genuine this time, “Marry me?”
“Are you proposing right now?”
“No. I don’t want it like that.”
“You want me to propose?”
You turned your head from where it’s buried in the sheets to look at him. Your hair fell into your face messily, but he could still make out your eyes beneath. “Yeah.”
“Now?”
“No. Not now… Wait a bit, so that I can feel surprised by it.”
Kai wouldn’t be able to keep the fond smile off his face if he tried. “Alright. I’ll wait a bit.”
"But not too long."
“Someone’s impatient,” He shook his head with a chuckle, “We’ll have the rest of our lives.”
“Well, we both know that you’re the patient one between the two of us. And besides,” a cheeky smile spread on your lips, and Kai wanted to kiss it right off, “I just can’t wait for the rest of our lives to begin. What’s so wrong about that?”
“You’re right,” he said, keeping his eyes from darting to the bottom drawer of his nightstand and instead leaning over to finally peck your lips, “I can’t wait either.”
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it's not until later that soobin will understand the true meaning of this night.
wc: 1.3k; tags: historical/royal au, slightly angsty, y/n implied to have long-ish hair
a/n: i've had this written for a while and since the OG part got a little traction again these days i decided to just post this as well. there's also a sequel in my drafts hehe~
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Soobin stands before your chambers, taking a moment to collect himself before he lifts his hand to the heavy door and knocks exactly three times, twice quickly and then once more with a little delay. “It's me, your highness,” he says, “Soobin,” though he knows you must have already recognized him. He still thinks it's proper etiquette to say his name before coming in, especially at this time of day.
“Yes,” he hears your voice from inside. When he opens the doors you're sitting at the vanity table. Your back is turned to him, but he can see your face through the mirror, gaze cast downwards, keeping your hands busy by arranging brushes and hair clips in front of you. Not in a nervous manner though. You seem calm and collected and something about it makes him feel nervous instead. What could you need him for at a time like now, in a setting like this? You never call him just for company, he knows that. Even when it isn't always recognizable at first, even when it sometimes seems like a casual meeting between people who could be friends if it weren’t for the differences in their status, there is always more behind it. Always a task to be assigned, always a message to be conveyed. So, what could possibly be on your mind to require his presence tonight?
The candle that's supposed to make up for the waning light of the evening sun is flickering in the air circulation caused by the open doors. He closes them behind himself and tentatively takes a few steps into the middle of the room.
"You called for me?”
"Will you brush my hair?" You ask non-chalant, like you're not asking him, a mere knight, to assist you in something so personal. It makes his breathing hitch. You've never asked something like that of him before.
“I can call for your maid."
A smile plays on your lips as your gaze lifts to meet his through the reflection. "But I specifically called for you, Soobin."
He swallows thickly and he tries to even his voice when he replies, “Yes, your highness.”
His fingers are trembling when he takes the comb you hand to him, and they tremble more when he touches the lengths of your hair. He has never touched you so intimately, only ever briefly held onto your hand as he helped you into a carriage or down a flight of stairs. This is completely different. With your hair falling loosely over your back, and your under dress no longer tied into a corset comes a vulnerability he has never once been allowed to see, much less touch.
He moves the comb slowly through the strands of hair, careful with each and every small tangle, terrified of possibly hurting you. None of his tension seems to bleed into you though. You're relaxed, eyes closed almost as if you're enjoying the treatment. (But of course, Soobin is not delusional enough to believe that.)
"There will be a revolution,” you say eventually, voice calm, “The people are in uproar. Rightfully so, too."
He doesn't know how to respond. He knows how observant and smart you are, and yet he didn’t realize this was something you thought about. "You don't have to concern yourself with these things, your highness."
"Why? Because I'm a woman? Because my father and brother have it handled?"
He swallows. He knows the answer he is about to give is not the one you want to hear. It's not what he thinks either, but it's what he knows he should answer, "Yes."
You let out a bitter little laugh. "Of course. Of course, politics are no place for a woman. But tell me, Soobin, if the crown falls, won't I fall with it just like my father and brother will? And if the castle burns down, won't a heavy dress catch fire a lot more easily than a pair of pants?”
You open your eyes, but not to meet his gaze. Rather, they wander outside the window, into the distance as you calmly continue, “I'll be engulfed in fire so quickly, and I'll burn so much more cruelly, for I haven't made any of the decisions that led to this."
You meet his gaze through the mirror now, finally, "So, do I not have plenty of reason to concern myself with these things? If my life depends on them?"
It's frightening how easily you speak of a revolution, how carelessly you imply a downfall of the crown, words that would cost anyone else their head. But who would tell on you? And who would convict you? Certainly not him, certainly not your family.
"You know, I'm not very forgiving by nature,” you continue without waiting for a response to your question.
"No, your highness," he agrees. You make it sound like a weakness, but to Soobin it's a quality of yours that he values a lot. You're strong and just, not quick to let go of what you think is right or wrong but not too hasty with your judgement either.
"I think though, when it comes to my innermost circle, I'm willing to forgive even the unthinkable."
"Who belongs to that circle?" He asks before he can stop himself and he makes a mental note to chastise himself for this insolent curiosity later. You don't seem to condemn him though, instead you chuckle as you watch him through the mirror, rough and clumsy hands carefully moving the comb with the delicately engraved flowers through your hair.
"Who indeed," you say with mirth in your eyes, "Perhaps a person I trust enough to guard my sleep."
He nods. That makes sense, of course only someone trusted like that should be allowed to protect you in your most vulnerable state. He wouldn’t let just anyone near your chambers either, always on high alert when he stands watch.
"Or someone who goes out hunting with me."
Soobin nods again. This too makes sense. You're very skilled with your rifle, he knows that and has seen it many times when you took him out to the forest for a lack of better company. But no matter how good of a shot you are yourself, it doesn't hurt to be careful when picking an entourage that will carry a firearm themselves.
"Or someone I'd allow to brush my hair."
He falters and the comb clatters to the floor. "Pardon me," he stutters, urgently picking it back up.
You don't seem bothered by the disturbance, nor do you seem to think the implication of your words are as far-reaching as they feel to Soobin. "And that innermost circle," you smile, "they could even commit treachery."
Soobin struggles to find his words again and he doesn’t meet your gaze when he finally does press out a response, "They would never betray you like that, or they never deserved your trust to begin with."
"Right," you sigh, "I fear they may not."
He’d like to swear his loyalty all over again and assure you that there is nothing to fear. But he knows he can’t do that without acknowledging what isn’t allowed to be acknowledged: that you consider him, a commoner, a measly knight, part of your inner circle. So he says nothing at all and instead gathers your hair into a low ponytail that he ties with a ribbon. It looks clumsy, but you smile, “It’s beautiful.” It’s not.
You are, though.
Only later Soobin understands that you weren’t afraid he would betray you, but rather feared that he wouldn’t; feared that he wasn’t willing to sacrifice you to save himself. A ridiculous thought, really, considering his own life had only come to have meaning because you gave one to it. There is no life worth saving if you're not in it. He may be part of your inner circle, but you are the only circle he has, the only person worth living and worth dying for.
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you're feeling a little rattled after watching a scary movie, but maybe being scared can be fun in its own way—it's definitely fun for your boyfriend~
wc: 2.2k, tags: established relationship, smut - mdni, fear play, (slight) exhibitionism, unprotected, clothed sex, some fluff, some comfort, kai is both a sweetheart and a menace, petnames (nugget, baby), some scream references; nsfw
a/n: i fear i have lost my sanity a bit... anyway :) back with another group bc i'm currently in txt hell :) thx @blizzardfluffykpop for being insane with me and helping me flesh out this idea :) thx for dragging me back into txt too (or should i really be grateful for that?)
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A movie night in fall needs a horror flick, at least according to your friends. And you do get the appeal—Halloween is only just over and still seems to linger in the air. But if it’d been up to you, you would have gone for something a little less scary, like Hocus Pocus or Coraline. Your friends weren’t having any of that though. I promise, y/n, Scream isn’t even that scary. It’s really kinda funny, they had assured, but you would beg to differ as you make your way to the subway station. It’s silly, you know that very well, but behind every dark corner seems to hide a killer, and walking the stairs down to the station feels like a surefire way to die. You stand at the edge for a moment, staring down into the looming corridor. You can’t do it. You back away and stop in front of a 24-hour-store, the light seeping out giving you at least a little comfort. And then you pull out your phone and call your boyfriend.
“Hey, nugget,” Kai’s voice sounds relaxed.
“Hey,” you suddenly feel a little stupid for calling.
“What’s up? How’s movie night with the girls?”
“Uh, it’s already over. I’m on my way home.”
“Mhm,” he hums, and you can picture him sitting at his computer, his phone squished between his ear and shoulder, “Did you have fun?”
“Yeah, we watched a horror movie. Are you still in the studio?”
“Horror? Really?” He sounds surprised, knowing all too well that you aren’t exactly fond of scary movies, “But yeah, I’m still in the studio. Maybe for another hour or two? You can wait at my place if you want to.”
“I see.” Your voice is more timid than you’d like it to be, and Kai easily picks up on it.
“Do you need me to pick you up? I can wrap up here and we can go home together.”
“No, it’s fine,” you don’t want to mess up his plans like that, but then you also don't want to be alone right now. "Hyuka?"
"Mhm?"
"Can I—can I come over?”
“To the studio?”
“Yeah,” you chew on your lip, your eyes darting around the empty streets, “If it’s not a bother…”
“Of course it’s not. Can you get here by yourself? Or do you want me to meet you halfway?”
You shake your head even if he can’t see you, “I’m only a block away. See you in a minute.”
“Okay, see you in a minute,” he hums, “But call me if you change your mind, hm?”
“Yeah.”
The short walk to the company building does feel scary and maybe you would’ve liked for him to pick you up after all. You know he meant it when he offered too. But you should be fine to do at least this much by yourself when you’re already going to interrupt him at the studio. When you arrive the front door isn’t locked yet, so you make your way inside. The building feels kind of eerie this late at night, the corridors dark and empty, and you’re glad when you finally get to Kai’s studio, light pouring into the hallway from beneath the door.
He turns in his chair when you open the door and poke your head in. The smile on his lips is soft and genuine, “Hey, baby.”
“Hey,” you greet back as you close the door behind yourself, still feeling a little rattled.
“Aw,” he coos at your timid appearance, “was it really scary?”
You shrug and plop down on the cozy chair he has in one corner of the small room, a purchase you know he made just so you’d be comfy if you visit him.
“My baby is such a scaredy cat,” he teases with a light grin, “What movie did you watch anyway?”
“Scream.”
The grin on his lips widens, “Ghostface, huh?” He pulls up the collar of his hoodie to cover his face, the print that looks very much like the iconic mask on full display, “Am I scary now, too?” He giggles.
You meet his gaze with a pout when he lowers the fabric again, “Stop teasing me.”
His expression softens at your words and he opens his arms and motions for you to come over. “Don’t pout, baby.”
You reluctantly trudge over, straddling his hips and letting him cup your cheeks.
“You know I don’t mean anything by it,” he assures, playfully squishing your cheeks together, “and you were so brave for coming here by yourself.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do. And you know I would’ve picked you up, too,” his thumbs stroke your squished cheeks with a fond smile, “my brave baby.”
You grumble something that even you yourself can’t decipher, before nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. He smells nice, like shampoo and like him, and you immediately feel grounded as you breathe in his scent. He holds you in his arms, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other comfortingly rubbing your thigh, fingertips ever so slightly slipping beneath the hem of your skirt.
“Thanks for letting me come over,” you mumble into his skin.
“Mhm, not for that,” he turns his head to leave a peck on your hair, “you can always come here.”
“Don’t say that, what if I take you up on that?”
He chuckles before leaving another peck on your temple. “Then I’ll probably never get any work done ever again. But I could live with that.”
You sit up again to look at him properly, a small grin on your face, “Really?”
He pecks your lips, “Really.”
Your grin widens, unable to hide the mischief you’re up to on your face, “If you’re never going to get any work done ever again anyway, maybe we could do something more fun than work right now,” you suggest, before kissing him back, properly this time.
He hums into your lips, and you feel the hand on your thigh move up a little higher, fingers kneading your skin, “And you already have an idea?”
“One or two?” You grind your hips into him and feel the way his grip on you tightens. When you kiss again, a little more passionately now, he lets both his hands slip beneath your skirt, cupping your ass cheeks and playing with the hem of your panties. You continue rolling your hips against him at a slow pace, feeling him grow beneath you. The friction feels good for you too, and you’re probably staining his sweatpants with the wetness soaking through the fabric of your panties.
“More,” you mumble, tilting your neck as Kai starts kissing and nibbling at the sensitive skin beneath your jaw.
“You sure? Isn’t it uncomfortable? We can go home—”
He has a point, the armrests digging into your thighs not exactly the most pleasant sensation, but you don’t really care. You tug at the hem of his sweatpants and let it snap back against his lower stomach. “It’s fine.”
“I don’t have condoms here.”
“That’s fine too,” you assure, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Are you sure?”
You roll your hips again, knowing your every move weakens his resolve that hasn’t even really been there in the first place. “Very sure.”
You feel his grip on you tighten and his teeth catch on the skin of your collarbones, and you love to notice these little signs of need. Kai is always so calm with you, and that is one of the things you like about him, always making you feel loved and cherished, but sometimes it’s nice to know he wants you in a more primal way too.
He removes one of his hands from your ass to tug himself out of his sweatpants, neither of you willing to bother with undressing. He strokes himself a few times, but you quickly take over, wrapping your hand around him while he pulls your panties to the side and runs his fingers through your folds.
“You’re so wet,” he marvels, briefly letting his digits dip into your heat, “think you can already take me?”
“Yeah,” you let out a sigh when his thumb runs over your clit, “it’s good.”
He lets out a content hum before he lines himself up to your entrance, his other hand grabbing your waist to keep you steady as he helps you slowly sink down on him. He clenches his jaw and you’re sure he’s dying to just buck his hips into you and bottom out all at once, but he doesn’t. He knows better than to rush things when you go in without preparation like this, and he has no interest in hurting you for the sake of his own pleasure. So, he goes slow and steady, letting you take him inch by inch until he finally bottoms out with a relieved sigh. He doesn’t move immediately, waiting for you to signal you adjusted to his size, before he pulls your hips closer and helps you move on top of him. You keep at a slow pace, enjoying the intimacy of the moment, lazy grinds and sweet kisses, and it almost makes you want to go forever—
A noise.
The sound of a door falling shut. You tense up.
“What was that?” you whisper, heart rate picking up instantly, “Did you hear that?”
Kai seems unbothered, his lips attached to your neck, “I didn’t hear anything.”
“No, I swear,” your fingers dig into his shoulders as you strain to listen to what’s going on outside of the studio. Albeit faint, you can hear steps. “Someone is out there.”
“That can’t be,” Kai only briefly detaches from your skin, before his lips find your pulse again, “Everyone already left.”
“No,” you insist, the sound of steps slowly coming closer and closer, “Someone is in the hallway.”
“Maybe it’s ghostface looking for us,” he looks at you with a mischievous grin, “after all we’re breaking survival rule number one: you can never have sex.”
“That’s not funny,” you whine, your voice thin with fear.
“No, it’s not,” he bucks his hips into you, “but we should probably make the best of the little time we have left, right?” He bucks his hips again and it makes you see stars, despite the fear consuming you, or maybe precisely because of it. The steps are so close now, you swear whoever is out there must be just a few doors away.
“Hyuka,” You whimper desperately, staring at your boyfriend in panic, who seems way too collected about all of this. You involuntarily clench around him, who’s still sheathed deeply inside of you, and it makes him draw in air between his teeth and tighten his grip on you in hopes of keeping you still.
“Shh,” Kai holds his finger up to his lips, “You don’t want him to hear us now, do you?”
You quickly shake your head, but you can’t calm down at all. You hear another step and another and another until they are right outside the studio.
And then, they stop.
Why did they stop?
There are tears brimming in your eyes and even Kai gently rubbing circles into your skin with his thumbs can’t soothe you. You’re scared out of your mind, scared of getting caught like this, scared of whoever is out there, scared of dying.
Knock, knock.
The sound on the door is too loud against the silence of the room.
Knock.
You can’t help the scared noise escaping your throat, and you regret it immediately, but Kai is quick to cover your mouth with his palm to silence you.
“Breathe,” he whispers, “it’s all good, I promise,” and you don’t get what he means, until you hear a voice from the other side of the door.
“Security. Just wanted to let you know we’ll be closing up the building soon.”
“Thanks,” Kai yells back, his hand still covering your mouth, “I’ll be out in 30 minutes.”
Once the guard is gone, Kai lets go and looks at you with a sheepish grin. “See? It’s all good.”
“I hate you,” you weakly hit his chest, “you’re so dead.” But your words barely have any bite to them, not with the way the tears you’ve been holding in this whole time are finally spilling out and running down your cheeks.
“Oh, nugget, don’t cry,” Kai wipes them away with his thumbs, “I’m sorry, hm? Please don’t cry.”
“You better be sorry,” you give him a glare and Kai knows all too well that he has pushed you a little too far, “Nugget?”
But instead of a response you roll your hips into him, quickly picking up pace and building up a steady rhythm, leaving Kai to groan beneath you.
“We have a time limit now after all, so we better make the best of the little time we have left, right?“
“You’ve got a point there,” he presses out with a huffed laugh, as you move on top of him, clenching around him in ways you know will drive him insane.
“But we don’t have to rush that much, do we, baby?” His fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips, putting in enough strength to at least somewhat slow your movements, “Or else I’ll end up cumming all by myself.”
“You think I won’t keep going until I’m satisfied?”
“You’re the devil.”
You give him a shit eating grin as you lean in to kiss him, “So are you.”
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wc: 0.8k, tags: smut - mdni, pwp, dom!soobin, cock warming, face fucking, praise, edging, slight dacryphilia, petnames (angel), long haired reader, soobin might just be a bit of an m, safe words/signs mentioned but not used; nsfw
a/n: this is honestly just pure filth......but i thought it'd be a fun dynamic :)
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"I know you can take it," he says and his voice is a zillion times softer than his actions as his hand holds down your head.
You can barely breathe with him all the way down your throat and there are tears welling up in your eyes that are threatening to spill out every time you blink. You know you can tap out, but you don't. You let him keep you in place because he's right, you can take it. He's not even moving, just using you to keep him warm and enjoy the nice view.
"You're doing so well, angel," he praises, his free hand wiping up a tear that finally spilled from your eyes. He licks it up from the tip of his finger and you see the small grin tugging on the corners of his lips. "My pretty little angel."
His hands slowly move to push your hair into a makeshift ponytail that he holds between his fingers. "So pretty," he praises again, as he bucks his hips into you. It's a slow, irregular pace but it's making you gag all the same and you almost wish he'd just use you quick and rough and be done with it.
But that's not what he's in the mood for today, you have known that from the second you've taken him into your mouth. No, today he wants to take it slow, edge himself on the tightness of your throat again and again before he finally grants himself relief. It's torture for the both of you, but he likes it that way. And so do you, every one of his thrusts making you rub your thighs together in need. You feel him pulsing in your throat for the nth time today, taste his salty pre cum on your tongue—and then he stills again with a small sigh.
"That was close," he brushes the sweaty strands of hair out of his forehead, his other hand never leaving the back of your head, "but we don't want to rush things, now, do we?" You'd like to disagree but there's not exactly any room for words in your mouth.
You feel spit accumulating on your tongue, and you shift slightly to let it dribble from your lips because there's no way you can get away with swallowing around him—but the minuscule movement is already enough to earn you a tug on your hair and a needy whimper from his lips that makes it worth it.
"Hold still, will you?" but even as he's reprimanding you his voice doesn't get overly harsh. It never does, at least not with this level of teasing.
It repeats like that a few more times, he stills just long enough to calm down a bit, before he picks up his movements again, bringing himself to that edge once more. Your jaw is going tired with the constant strain, but you like the way his voice sounds when he’s overly sensitive like this, moans and groans replaced by soft whimpers that sound like music to your ears. And maybe that’s why you don’t keep still when he stops again, maybe that’s why you swallow around him, once, twice, and even a third time. The sounds he makes are just too pretty, and he’s unable to keep them in as your tongue swirls around him.
“What are you doing, angel?” he presses out, but he doesn’t tell you to stop this time, his fingers tightening around your hair and his hips involuntarily bucking into you. It’s just another swirl of your tongue and he comes undone, literally, his cum going straight down your throat, and when you swallow again he’s letting out the most delectable whimper you’ve heard all night.
“What a naughty little thing.” Soobin shakes his head as he finally pulls out, a string of saliva connecting him to your lips until it snaps and trickles down your chin. You feel relief wash over you at finally, finally being able to close your aching jaw and give your sore throat a break.
"That was so good," Soobin sighs and you're not sure if he's praising you for being good, or himself for using you so well. Still, you nod while his thumb carefully wipes away the drool and cum from your lips. He's always so gentle with you at times like this, making it all too easy to forget the ache in your jaw. You lean into his touch as he cups your cheek, ready to just let him take care of you and fall asleep cuddled up in his arms. But Soobin has other plans. It does include taking care of you, though. He licks his lips, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth—
"Your turn now, angel."
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summary: your physical therapy is getting very physical
tags: physiotherapist!yunho, smut (mdni), reader is painfully horny (especially for yunho's hands), tension, kissing, teasing, fingering; feat. woosan as your bffs
wc: 3.2k
a/n: started writing this back when i went to physiotherapy--but i swear it's only partially inspired by real occurrences, my therapist was very professional
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Usually, your weekly meet ups with your best friends—or girls’ night as Wooyoung liked to call it, even when you were the only one who technically qualified—were your sanctuary, your safe space, your chance to decompress after a stressful week at work. But usually your non-existent sex life wasn’t the topic of the night, nor were you interrogated over your relationship to your new physiotherapist. You were quickly starting to regret ever mentioning him or his big hands or cheeky smile or—
“I know I'm barely one to talk,” Wooyoung said, clearly amused over the whole situation and not at all willing to change topic, “but you’re like pathetically horny.”
“No, listen,” you started, pointing at him with the pretzel stick you’d been nibbling on. “Yunho just has—”
“Yunho?” Wooyoung snorted, “You’re on first name basis with your physiotherapist?”
“Don’t make it weird, that’s just their policy and it makes it more comfortable too.”
“Mhm, right. Except you’re maybe getting a little too comfortable.”
Before you could retort, San let himself plop onto the empty chair at your table. “What did I miss?” He asked casually while scanning the drinks menu (as if he didn’t already know his order).
“Nothing much,” Wooyoung replied, “I'm getting a promotion and y/n wants to fuck her physiotherapist.”
“Woo!”
He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “What, it’s true.”
“It’s not! He just—it’s not my fault that he touched my hips like that!”
“Y/n, honey, he was showing you an exercise.”
“Well, yeah, but his hands are just kinda sexy and—” you trailed off when you saw San pulling a face. “What?”
San shook his head with a sigh, “Girl, you want to fuck him so bad.”
Maybe your friends had a point, because despite your tiring work day and the way your joints were aching with exhaustion, you found yourself feeling giddy for your next appointment with Yunho. The only thing putting a damper on your mood was that after today you only had one more session left, when really you wished you could keep going forever.
The clinic was rather quiet and the lights in the back were already off—you always had the last time slot of the day and you rarely met other patrons when you came in. Today was no different, the only people you could spot were Yunho and one of his colleagues.
“Hey,” Yunho greeted you with a soft smile, briefly looking up before focusing back on where he seemed to be typing something into the computer behind the counter, “On time as always.”
“Of course,” you replied with a smile, feeling your cheeks heat up for literally no reason at all.
“Very commendable,” he grinned and then his eyes darted up to you once more, almost as if he was accessing you, “You can already get into room 2, I’m with you in a second,” he nodded towards a door before turning to his colleague, “Mingi, can you look this over for me?”
“Sure, no problem,” the other man replied, hovering over the screen of the computer too. Your gaze lingered on the scene a second longer, taking in how Yunho adjusted the glasses sitting on his nose, but when he looked up, meeting your gaze in a question, you quickly hurried into the room he’d pointed at. It was a smaller one than usual; the mirror, yoga mats and other equipment you were used to replaced by a massage table that you awkwardly sat down on while you waited. It only took another one or two minutes for Yunho to appear in the doorframe.
“You were looking kind of tired, so I thought it’s a good idea to do something more relaxing today,” he said as he walked in, closing the door behind him. He had your files in his hand, scribbling something down before leaving the clipboard on the little shelf in the corner, “But remember you still have to do the exercises at home though. And no slouching.”
“Aye, Sir,” you replied with a playful salute that got frozen mid-air when he met your gaze with a smile and a cheeky “Good girl.” Good. Girl. How the fuck were you supposed to survive this?
“Alright,” he continued, all professional, as if he hadn’t just hit you out of left field with his comment, “we’ll loosen up your muscles a bit, in the neck and upper back area, since that’s where you’re having the most trouble. Please lay down on your stomach with your head on this side,” he briefly tapped the head rest, “and it’d be good if you removed your top so I have access to your back—I can go out for a second if you prefer.”
You knew there were no hidden motives there, after all he was a professional and this was his job. But the thought of undressing in front of the guy you’d been having somewhat inappropriate thoughts of was still making your heart race.
“Uhm, no, it’s okay,” you stuttered, turning your upper body away from him as you slipped out of your shirt, holding the fabric close to your chest. “B—my bra too?”
“No, it’s okay, we can just—” he reached out and you felt his fingers gently brush your skin as he pushed the straps of your bra down your shoulders, “move them out of the way like this.” His touch left goosebumps in its wake and maybe it was your wishful thinking, but you thought his fingers lingered a second longer than necessary. Then he pulled away though, clearing his throat and stepping aside so you had enough space to lie down. He took a seat on a little rolling chair at the top of the table and you could see his legs through the hole of the headrest.
His hands felt warm and soft as he smoothed them over your upper back a few times before he started rubbing out the sore spots in your neck. You felt the way the tension was seeping out of you, making you feel relaxed and at ease. At least until he spoke up again with his sweet honey voice.
“It’s okay if it hurts a little, but if you’re in so much pain that you want to scream, do tell me. We don’t want that.” He let his hands move to your left shoulder blade, finding one of your pressure points, “For it to hurt that badly, I mean. I don’t mind if you scream.” He chuckled and you huffed out a laugh as well while your cheeks were heating up for nth time that day. It was a good thing he couldn’t see your face right now. “Uh, yeah, I’ll let you know," you replied but all you could think about was him making you scream. Your silly brain couldn't help but wonder if he liked a vocal partner.
Yunho seemed blissfully unaware of your inner tumult, rubbing out the knots in your back completely unbothered. “This still okay?” He asked as he moved to another point and you felt yourself gasp a little at the initial pain. It wasn’t exactly a bad pain though. Something about the light sting was almost pleasurable.
“Still okay,” you assured and he hummed in affirmation as his fingers kept moving. He was skilled and precise in his ministrations, and you knew he had to be, with this being his literal job, but the thought that perhaps his fingers were skillful in other places too wouldn’t leave your mind for the rest of the massage.
It was over too quickly for your liking, ended by him gently moving the straps of your bra back up your shoulders. “Alright,” he said, scooting away from the table to give you some space, “That’s it for today.”
“Thanks, I really needed that,” you mumbled as you sat up, just to immediately regret your words. You sounded like a pathetic, touch starved horndog.
“Mhm,” he hummed and you couldn’t read his expression as he took a note in your files, “I could see that.”
“So, what if I do want to fuck him?”
Wooyoung let out a giggle, “Finally admitting to it, huh?”
“Just go for it,” San advised, “It’s gonna be your last appointment anyway.”
That was a reminder you really didn’t want to hear, so you quickly shoved the thought aside in favor of more pressing questions.. “But what’s that supposed to mean? How would I even go for it?”
“Well, do it the way you normally would,” Wooyoung said matter of factly, “You know how to flirt, right?”
“I—I don’t. Not like that. I never really tried to get into anyone’s pants before,” you admitted.
San raised an eyebrow, “So you just had people coming at you without even trying? What a flexer.”
“Don’t tease me, Sannie, you know it’s not like that. It’s just that there’s usually dating involved. I’ve never slept with anyone I wasn’t at least casually dating.”
“Date him then,” San simply replied but Wooyoung shook his head. “Way too time consuming. She wants a quick fix, not a slow-burn romance. Take this as a learning opportunity, y/nnie.”
“Well, then teach me! What do I do?”
“Oh? Teach me?” San said with a smirk, “That’s kinda hot.”
“I gotta agree, but we’re getting off topic here.” Wooyoung fished a pretzel stick out of the glass on the table and took a bite of it before he continued, “So, the important thing is to show him you’re interested. But don’t make it romantic, you don't want a coffee invite."
"Actually I wouldn't mind a coffee—"
"Yeah, and you can have your coffee—after taking care of how fucking pent-up you are." He let the rest of his pretzel stick disappear into his mouth, still chewing as he continued, "He’s your physiotherapist, there’s gotta be plenty of chances for him to get his hands on you. Just subtly let him know you really like it.”
“Yeah,” San agreed, before coming back to his initial advice: “Just go for it.”
For your last appointment he sent you to room number 4, the one with the mirror and the yoga mats and other equipment that you knew all too well. After last week's session you found yourself filled with disappointment. For a moment you stood in the doorway, until Yunho came over, raising an eyebrow at you.
“Not going in?”
San’s words were ringing in your head: Just go for it. Wooyoung’s advice on subtlety must have gotten lost on you though, but who was Wooyoung to give that advice anyway?
“Uhm, I was thinking—you know I’m feeling kind of tired today…” You trailed off, your eyes darting over to room number 2, where the ajar door revealed the massage table.
He met your words with a chuckle. “Are you saying you want a massage for our last appointment? Did you like it that much?”
“It just seemed to really help with my sore spots…”
“Hmm,” he hummed, his arms crossed in front of his body thoughtfully, “I do think we should go through the exercises I taught you at least once—to make sure you remember them correctly and can do them at home. Don’t want you coming back here in another three weeks.”
“You don’t want me to come back?”
Yunho’s eyes widened for a moment there before he let out a chuckle, “Not if it means you’re in pain again.”
“Didn’t you say it’s okay if it hurts a little?”
He shook his head in disbelief, “I feel like I’m not getting anywhere here, so let’s make a compromise—first a quick run down of the exercises and then for the remaining time you can get on the table for me, hm?”
Get on the table for me. You tried not to think anything of the words he’d chosen, tried not to let your brain warp them until they held a different meaning altogether, but it was hopeless. The worst part was, that you couldn’t help feeling like he was doing this on purpose, reveling in the way your gaze turned feverish and your cheeks flushed red with heat.
The quick run down was almost agonizing. He did keep his promise to make it short, but every time he stepped into your personal space to fix your posture, you felt your skin tingling with anticipation and need. When you finally, finally went over to room 2, you were more than ready to skip the massage and go for other activities instead. You pulled yourself together though, and did not jump him the moment he closed the door. Instead, you took off your shirt and laid down on the table like last time. Yunho sat at the head end once more, working his magic on your neck and shoulders. When he moved his hands a little further down your back, they briefly got caught on your bra.
“Sorry about that,” he said, his voice calm and smooth.
You bit your lower lip. This seemed like a pretty good chance, didn’t it?
“You can take it off, if you want to. I don’t mind.”
He halted for a moment, and maybe if you could see his face you’d be able to read his expression, but with your eyes facing the floor you were stuck wondering what he was thinking.
“Are you sure?” Yunho asked after a moment and there was something in his voice that made it feel like his question wasn’t just about the massage.
You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
It only took a second for him to unhook your bra, the fabric falling to the side of your body. His fingers seemed to trace the place where it’d sat, maybe following the light imprints it’d left behind.
“You have pretty skin,” he said eventually, his voice just a whisper.
“Yeah?” Your heart was racing in your chest with nerves and anticipation of what could possibly happen.
“Yeah,” his index finger gently wandered over your spine, “It feels nice to touch.”
“It feels nice when you touch me, too.”
He hesitated for a moment and the brief silence was killing you. “I could do it more,” he finally said.
“I’d like that.”
“Turn around for me?”
He didn’t have to tell you twice, you immediately turned to lay on your back, losing your bra along the way. The moment you were facing up, he leaned down, crashing his lips into yours. The angle was kind of awkward with the way you were technically upside down from his point of view, but neither of you seemed to really care as you devoured each other in a kiss you’d been anticipating for weeks.
When he eventually pulled away, both of you breathless, there was a cheeky glint in his eyes. “Isn’t this kind of like spiderman?” he asked and you couldn’t help but chuckle.
“I didn’t know my hot physiotherapist was a nerd.”
“So, I’m hot?”
You rolled your eyes before your hand reached out to pull him close again, “Aren’t we kinda past that?”
“Right,” he grinned into your lips, “I guess so.”
He kissed you again before he pulled away to get up from his chair, the angle too awkward to really touch, and he was dying to get his hands all over you. You sat up on the table, letting your legs dangle off one side, and he swiftly moved to stand between them, caging you in with his hands on either side of your hips.
“We’re the only ones here, right?” you asked, just to make sure.
“Yeah,” he pecked the corner of your mouth before kissing his way to your jaw and then down to your collar bone, “Mingi left a while ago and the cleaning staff only comes in the morning.”
“Good,” you leaned back and tilted your neck to give him more access, reveling in the feeling of his teeth grazing your skin.
His hands moved to your body, one of them keeping you steady as the other tugged at the hem of your jeans. “Can we take this off?”
You nodded a little too quickly, your hands immediately flying to the button to help him undo it.
“So eager,” he commented with that smug smile of his before he helped you drag the pants off your legs, leaving you in nothing but your panties. He let his thumb lightly rub over the thin and embarrassingly wet fabric, smile growing wider as you let out a little whimper. “Why do I feel like you haven’t been focusing on treatment at all and were instead thinking of—” he flicked his thumb over your clothed clit, “something else?”
“I couldn’t help it,” you whimpered, “not my fault your hands are—like that.”
He cocked an eyebrow, “Like what?”
“I don’t know,” you whimpered once more when his long fingers started to run over your folds, pushing aside your panties to touch you directly, “sexy.”
“They are sexy? Like, when I fix your posture? Or give you a massage?,” he asked, leaving more bites and kisses on your neck, “Or when I do this?” He slipped one of his fingers into you without warning, making you gasp in surprise.
“Yeah,” you pressed out, your mind starting to lose focus as he was moving inside of you, “it’s sexy.”
“That’s good to hear,” he whispered into your skin before adding a second digit and curling them inside of you. You arched off the table at the sensation of it, your body instinctively trying to get away from the intense feeling, but his other hand on your hip kept you in place. He gradually increased his pace, his fingers mercilessly abusing the sensitive spots inside of you and you were already feeling like you were losing your mind. When he moved his thumb back to your clit, applying just the right kind of pressure, you snapped almost immediately, your high washing over you in a sudden and intense wave. Yunho wasn’t letting up quite yet though, still working his skillful hands and prolonging your orgasm until the over sensitivity made you whine. When he finally pulled away, he looked at his fingers for a moment, admiring your glistening juices on them before he licked them clean one by one.
“That was nice,” he said with a smile, as if you had just done him a service and not the other way round. Still, you agreed with a hazy nod.
He pulled your panties back into place before leaning in for a kiss. “How about I take you out for a coffee sometime?”
“So, uh, what if I don’t want to just fuck him?”
“Weren’t we over this?” Wooyoung took a sip of his beer, before your words really registered, “Wait, are you saying you have feelings for him?!”
“I—I don’t know, he’s just—” you dropped your face onto the table with a sigh, “he’s just so charming.”
"See?" San said with a triumphant grin, "So much for a quick fix."
“Well, then I hope you at least got his number.”
Now a smile spread on your lips, too, “I even got that coffee invite.”
masterlist | pls consider reblogging if you enjoyed this~
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summary: Jongho was everything you weren’t: ambitious, diligent, promising—all in all the perfect law school student. Naturally, your chaos didn’t fit into his prearranged life. Not for long, anyway. Your silly little relationship was never meant to last. So how come you couldn't seem to move on? Of course, being grouped together for a semester-long assignment didn't exactly help your case.
tags: exes2lovers, law student!au, hurt/comfort, y/n lowkey has an inferiority complex, jongho is slightly possessive, best friends woosan (bc i love making them y/n's besties), some side characters from tbz/skz; warnings: alcohol consumption, throwing up
wc: 9.2k
a/n: this is my fic for the live alive collab hosted by @sungbeam! honestly i'm just so glad to have made it (or, well it's half past midnight in my time zone but i tried my best i swear t-t) i was really hoping my time management would be better for this, but honestly life wasn't really having it. either way, i hope you enjoy this story & pls check out the other fics for this collab!!
and also @ beam - thanks for letting me be part of this sweet collab. i'm glad to have had a good reason to write (and actually finish!!) something. love you lots<3
masterlist | collab masterlist
So maybe you'd overestimated what a two month break could do. You’d thought you'd use all that free time really well, to eat healthy and exercise and read more books. You’d also thought you'd be well ahead of all the assignments due during the break. And most of all you’d thought you'd come back after the break as a changed woman who is definitely not still hung up on her boyfriend that she broke up with right before the semester ended.
Reality however looked quite different: You'd eaten too much pizza, barely left the house, binge watched not only one but two TV shows, barely finished your assignments on time and spent an embarrassing amount of time crying over your boyfriend. Needless to say, you were most definitely still hung up on him.
Consequently, going back to school left you with mixed feelings. It all came down to a simple list of pros and cons, and you weren’t sure which side was weighing heavier.
Pros:
Getting away from your nagging parents.
Seeing your friends again.
Spending a fun last summer with them.
Cons:
Seeing Jongho.
Your friends are his friends too.
Whatever fun activities are planned, he’ll inevitably be there too.
It wasn’t that you suddenly hated him (surely, life would be easier if you could). But just the mere thought of facing him again ripped your heart in two. His words were still ringing in your head like he’d said them just yesterday. ‘Might as well end it now.’ As if it barely even concerned him. And just like that, it’d been over.
While it felt suffocating to be at home, you wanted to prolong your return as much as possible. For one to avoid Jongho for as long as you could. And then also to avoid your friends, most importantly your best friends. Because you hadn’t told them about the break up. You’d just pretended everything was fine right up until you sat in your train home. And then, the moment it had left the station you’d crumbled pathetically, sobbing so hard that a woman sitting in the seat before you handed you some tissues.
Of course you knew you couldn’t keep the break up a secret forever, but somehow talking about it was scary. Talking about it would make it real. Talking about it would maybe prompt your friends to tell you that you’d been stupid and that it was your fault, and you weren’t quite ready to hear that yet. Still, you couldn’t just postpone it all indefinitely and take the semester off, so you arrived back at the dorm one day before the lectures were starting again. Your room looked the way you’d left it. You hadn’t bothered taking any of your personal bits down while you were away, just packed what you needed and left—but when you set foot inside now, you were starting to regret that. You’d never noticed how much space Jongho had taken up in your room. There were pictures of him and you and your friends all over your pin board, along with tickets from when you’d been to the theater together. On your desk was a clover he’d given you before one of your exams (three leaves, not four, despite his best efforts to find one), that you’d pressed and safely displayed in a tiny picture frame. And then of course, on your bed, right next to your pillow was that teddy with its tiny head and broad shoulders that he’d gifted you for your last birthday and that you’d always joked looked exactly like him.
You wanted to throw it all away just so you didn’t have to look at it anymore. Instead, you curled up in bed, jeans and all, and cuddled that teddy close to your chest. You buried your nose in the soft material, pretending you could still smell him on it, when really it only smelled like you.
You must have fallen asleep at some point, because you woke up in the middle of the night, still in the clothes you’d worn all day, and with a terrible headache that kept you from falling asleep again. Since it seemed you weren’t going to catch much more sleep anyway, you stepped outside. The halls of the dormitory had been noisy and bustling earlier, everyone eagerly greeting each other and catching up after the long break. But now it was eerily quiet. Maybe everyone had suddenly come to respect the curfew, or maybe they’d decided to take it easy tonight since lectures would start tomorrow, and there’d be a huge party to kick off the semester on Friday anyway.
As you wandered the corridor, it took you back to the last day before the break. You’d aimlessly wandered back then too, unable to sleep after your conversation with Jongho, but not able to cry either. Not yet, anyway, because it hadn’t sunken in yet. It’d felt surreal at the time, like you half expected Jongho to show up at your dorm the next day to inform you that the break up was of course not actually happening. You could picture it so well, him standing there first thing in the morning, early enough to still catch the 9 AM train to his family home, making sure to tell you that you’re still dating, so you wouldn’t have stupid thoughts while on break. Jongho was like that, preferring clarity over leaving you guessing. That day though, he hadn’t shown up, and maybe that was a way of making things clear, too. You’d watched the clock ticking away, 9 AM passing you by, but you’d still held onto some hope until the afternoon, when it was time for your own departure. And even then, a delusional part of you was thinking maybe he’d show up at the platform to apologize and he’d hold you so close and you’d hug him right back, and he’d tell you to let go because you’d miss your train, but you wouldn’t even care because all that mattered was that Jongho still loved you.
It was only when the train had started departing and the people at the platform started blurring behind the window as you passed them by, that it finally sunk in. Jongho hadn’t come. He’d let you leave just like that, with a two month break ahead of you to cement the fact that you’d broken up. He was no longer your boyfriend. And with that realization came the tears, and it seemed they hadn’t really stopped since then.
By the time you wandered back to your room, it was already getting light outside, the sunrise dying the sky in shades of pink and purple that were too beautiful to match your mood. You closed the blinds to shut them out and sunk back into your bed.
It seemed sleep had eventually found you again. In fact, you slept so deeply that you didn’t hear any of your three alarms and completely missed your first lecture. Luckily, you had a really good friend, and he wasn’t shy to remind you when you met him at the cafeteria in between classes.
“You’d be so doomed without me,” he said instead of a greeting, “but of course, your best friend in the world made sure to answer roll call for you and even signed you up for the group project.”
“Thanks, Wooyoung,” you set down a cup of coffee in front of him as a means of compensation, “I owe you my life.”
“You really do. That prof is no joke, you know?”
“Yeah, yeah,” you sighed, taking a sip of your own cup.
“What’s been up with you anyway? We’ve barely heard of you all break. San was this,” he made a pinching motion with his fingers, “close to borrowing his mom’s car and driving over there to make sure you’re still alive.”
“That’d be a 10 hour ride.”
“That’s how much we love you.” Wooyoung rested his chin on his hand and eyed you intensely, “So, will you tell me what’s up?”
“I’ve been stressed out over the assignments?” You already knew it was a poor excuse before he called you out for it.
“I know that’s not it. Just tell me. I promise it will be okay.”
All his silly jokes and teasing aside, Wooyoung was a good friend and a good listener. But it still felt hard to put the words out there. It made you fell as if you were sitting in that train all over again, watching the people and the platform disappear, and your relationship with them.
“We broke up,” you finally said, immediately taking another sip of your coffee hoping it could wash down the taste of heartbreak lingering on your tongue.
You raised an eyebrow at him, “Who would joke about something like that?”
He shrugged, “You’ve become pretty unpredictable, so who knows?”
“Oh, yes, I’m an enigma.” You rolled your eyes and the little banter helped you shove your actual feelings aside, pretending it all didn’t phase you as much as it really did. Wooyoung looked at you for another moment, clearly seeing right through you, but not commenting on it.
“But, uhm, if it’s true, then I have some sort of bad news for you,” he admitted reluctantly, his expression sheepish.
“Spill.”
“So, uh, remember how I said I signed you up for the group project?”
“No.”
“It’s supposed to be groups of four—”
“No, Wooyoung, please.”
“And San and I didn’t know—remember? You kept this incredibly relevant information from us, your best friends in the world—and we had to make a decision—”
“No, no, no—”
“It just made sense to group up.”
Great. Amazing. Splendid. You were stuck working on an assignment with your ex-boyfriend. all. semester.
“How is this my life?” You dropped your head in your hands, “And how come he didn’t protest either?”
“Ah, right,” Wooyoung seemed to only realize now that you were lacking this information, “Jongho wasn’t present either. Saved his ass during roll call, too, but I guess that’s not really of much interest to you.”
“No, Jung Wooyoung, it is not of much interest to me in the face of this whole group project disaster.” Though, you did have to admit that it was highly unusual for Jongho, ambitious, diligent Jongho, to miss a class unexcused.
“Understandable,” he nodded, “But maybe we can still switch groups?”
“Who would even switch with me? I don’t have other friends.”
He grinned. “But I do. Changbin is in that class too, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind taking your place. And he’s grouped up with Felix, you know Felix, right?”
You do know Felix. You like him too, though you wouldn’t go as far as to call him a friend. Still, being grouped with sweet, kind Felix would be much better than having to spend the whole semester working with Jongho.
“Would you ask him?”
“Anything for my bestie,” Wooyoung looked at you with an encouraging smile, “I’m sure it will work out just fine.”
Maybe switching groups wasn’t all that big of a deal, or maybe Changbin just liked Wooyoung enough to agree easily—either way, just two days later your friend assured you that the groups were changed without any issues, and Felix had even notified the professor of the changes already. He generally seemed to have taken up some kind of leading role, because you received a message from him that same day, informing you that the group had agreed to meet up the next Tuesday to make a plan for the semester, and asked if you could make it as well. Tuesday was fine with you, and honestly, even if it weren’t you would’ve tried your best to adjust your schedule to them out of gratitude for taking you in. According to Wooyoung, aside from Felix it was Eric and Sanha in that group, and because they were close to Jongho, you’d already talked to them quite a few times back when you’d still been dating. You remembered them as being pretty friendly and fun to be around and you just hoped their friendship with your ex-boyfriend didn’t make things awkward. Though, even then, it seemed like a much better choice to work with his friends instead of the man himself.
Maybe it was that silly optimism of yours that jinxed your demise. Because surely enough, when you stepped into the café across campus on Tuesday, the guy sitting next to Eric at the table Felix had reserved looked uncomfortably familiar: It was Jongho. Even from a distance and a slightly awkward angle, you recognized him right away. His dark brown hair, the black frames of his glasses, the neatly ironed collar of his shirt. It didn’t make sense. Why would Jongho bother showing up to the meeting of your project group? Even if he was friends with Eric and Sanha—shouldn’t he have the tactfulness to stay away after you went as far as to switch groups (something you were safe to assume wasn’t only in your interest, but his as well)?
You wanted to turn around and leave, maybe send a message that you’d suddenly started to feel unwell, or at least come back with a little delay in hopes Jongho would’ve left by then, but before you could do any of that, someone called your name.
“Hey there!” Felix greeted you with a bright smile, looking genuinely happy to see you again. He had a tray in his hands, four cups you noted, which meant either they’d already ordered for you as well, or a certain guest was planning to stick around for at least one coffee. You hadn’t seen Sanha around yet either, which filled your stomach with a feeling of unease.
“Hey,” you nodded awkwardly, “do you need help carrying that?”
“Nah, don’t worry. Just follow me, the rest is already there,” he naturally leads the way towards the dreaded table, “I hope you don’t mind we ordered for you,” he added, “Matcha with oat milk.”
“Oh.” Your gaze lingered on the cup you assumed to be yours, “Thank you.” Jongho must’ve told him your usual order. How else would Felix, or Eric for that matter, know? And despite the anger you still felt about Jongho being there in the first place, knowing he cared enough to order for you, knowing he cared enough to remember, awakened something else in the depth of your stomach. You quickly pushed it aside. It was just routine, it didn’t mean anything. Felix must’ve asked him if he knew your order, and he must’ve replied automatically, without giving it much thought or care. (But didn’t that have its own value too? Didn’t it feel inherently meaningful that your habits have become so ingrained in his very being, that he could recite them without thinking?)
“Y/n!” Eric pulled you out of your thoughts as you approached the table, a wide grin on his face, “Man, it’s been ages since I’ve seen you last, how have you been?” He got up and hugged you so naturally and friendly, it made you wonder if he even knew about the break up. You didn’t dare to ask though, didn’t want to bring up that awful topic so you just hugged him back, told him you’d been great and left it at that. You sat down across from him, next to Felix and at the biggest possible distance from Jongho. You’d wanted to glare at him, ask him why the fuck he was here, but now that you were actually close enough to talk to him for the first time since the end of last semester, it suddenly felt hard to even look at him. So, you focused on your matcha instead that Felix had placed in front of you, appreciating the latte art that fittingly almost looked like a clover.
“When’s Sanha joining us?” You asked, trying to come off as casual and relaxed and driving home that air of nonchalance by taking a sip of your drink.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Eric sounded surprised. “Him and Jongho switched groups.”
You choked so badly on your matcha you almost spat it in his face, and gratefully accepted the tissue that was handed to you, before even realizing it was Jongho who handed it to you.
“It’s a good thing though,” Eric easily continued, “I love Sanha, but I think with Jongho in our group we have a pretty good chance of getting an A+, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” you were still barely able to breathe, “Right.”
You tried your best to keep it together while Eric and Felix were there, focusing on the project and assigning tasks for everyone until the next meet up. The moment they left though, and it was just you, who’d purposely lingered, and Jongho who, for some reason, had stayed behind as well, you exploded.
“What the fuck?!” You hissed, quiet enough not to make a scene, but not holding back any of the anger seeping into your voice.
“Someone’s angry, huh?”
You wanted to spit in his annoyingly composed face. How could he remain this calm? Did seeing you again not phase him at all?
“Of course I’m angry! Why did you change groups?!”
He shrugged, “I could ask you the same, no?”
“You could’ve at least said something! Then I wouldn’t have bothered switching!”
“You didn’t say anything either,” A grin slipped onto his features, “And considering these are my friends, couldn’t you have anticipated this to happen? Did you maybe want to work with me?”
Maybe you hadn’t thought this through. Why hadn’t this occurred to you? But then why didn’t he tell anyone? If not you, why not at least Wooyoung and San? After all, it concerned them, too! You shoved the last of your notes into your bag, not caring at all about the way the paper crinkled beneath your fingers.
“Whatever, guess I’ll just have to change back.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure the professor will love that. He already seemed mildly annoyed about switching the groups once, I’m sure doing it again will leave a great impression,” he handed you your ballpoint pen that you hadn’t realized was still laying on the table, “We’ve already distributed tasks anyway, just roll with it. Switching now will just make more work for everyone.”
He was right. Of course, he was right. Perfect, smart Jongho tended to be right about everything. Guess you were stuck with Jongho in your project group, again.
“Don’t kill me for saying this, and I do feel so sorry—but this situation is also kind of hilarious,” Wooyoung looked at you with mirth in his eyes, while San next to him was slurping up his ramyeon without much care.
“No, I absolutely will kill you, how is this hilarious?!”
“I mean—both of you switching groups to avoid each other and then ending up in the same group again? That must be some crazy fate.”
“Yeah, right, fate, or maybe a certain someone,” you stared him down extra hard, “isn’t as close to his friends as he thinks he is, or else I’m sure Changbin would’ve told you about this and we could’ve avoided the whole mess.”
“Honestly,” San intervened, mouth still full, “even Changbin seemed surprised when Sanha showed up to the group meet up. Jongho must’ve just given him the time and place and left it at that.”
Huh. “That’s—weird.” Jongho was usually a bit more…organized? Than that? Normally, he would’ve at least given someone in his group a heads up, wouldn’t he?
“Hm,” Wooyoung hummed, a small encouraging smile on his face, “I suppose he’s struggling with the break up just as much as you are.”
That thought honestly made you feel a little better. You weren’t the only one having a hard time. Jongho was struggling too. Why else would he have bothered to switch groups in the first place?
“To be honest though—I’m still confused about the break up. I get if you don’t want to talk about it, but it feels so sudden. Weren’t you still all over each other at the end of the semester? What happened?”
“Yeah,” San echoed as he finished the last of his noodles, “What happened?”
You chewed on your lower lip, unsure what to say, “It’s just…. He’s an ass?”
“Oh, god,” Wooyoung’s jaw tensed, “if he cheated on you I’ll literally kill him.”
“No!” You sighed. “He didn’t cheat.”
“Thank god, I’m not ready to defend someone in court,” San let out a breath of relief, “Especially not for murder. Because, legally, this wouldn’t even be manslaughter.”
“It’d definitely be manslaughter. It’d be all the heat of the moment, a non-malicious crime of passion. Not that I’d be dumb enough to get caught.”
“It would not be manslaughter,” you agreed with San, “but there’s no killing happening anyway. As I said, he didn’t cheat.”
Wooyoung didn’t seem really convinced as he eyed you critically. “Then why? What happened?”
“It just wasn’t meant to be,” you shrugged, unable to meet his gaze, in fear he’d see right through you and the fact that the break up was all your fault. “Why are you so surprised? You didn’t even like him when we first started dating.”
“I didn’t not like him!”
“You called him a stuck up prick.”
“A silver spoon snob, too,” San added.
“Why are y’all ganging up on me?” He huffed in offense, “And that was all just because I thought I needed to protect you! Before I knew how cute he actually is behind that serious face.”
“You date him then.”
“Nah, my bestie’s ex is off limits.”
“Right,” you rolled your eyes at him, “If that’s all that’s stopping you, then you have my blessings.”
Wooyoung grinned, “Don’t regret that later when you’ll inevitably want him back.”
“I won’t.” What a stupid lie, when you’d never wanted to break up in the first place. But what right did you even have to want him back?
“Besides,” Wooyoung added, “until I hear a proper reason for the break up, I doubt the legal validity of it. In my books you’re still married until proven otherwise.”
“Isn’t the fact that we both wanted to avoid each other so bad we switched groups proof enough that we’re over for good?”
“Nice try, mittens. You switched groups precisely because you’re not over at all.”
Working in a group with Jongho was exhausting. Eric had a point—chances of getting an A+ with Jongho wasn’t unlikely, after all he was a perfectionist. Unfortunately though, he made that everyone’s business. As you analyzed the case your group was given for the assignment, he nitpicked every little detail, to make sure you weren’t missing anything. And maybe, under different circumstances, you could’ve appreciated it. Jongho wasn’t usually rude or harsh about his criticism, just honest. But with everything that had happened between the two of you, it felt hard not to take every little comment personally. Even when you knew his criticism was valid, you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling like he was judging your work more harshly than anyone else’s out of the grudge he held for you. So, you argued back, pathetically defended your stance as if it was a client you knew all too well was guilty and yet pleaded innocent.
“The buildings shared a wall, Neighbour B should’ve informed Neighbour A before tearing it down,” Jongho calmly stated and you knew he had a point. You knew, and yet—
“It was B’s property, why would they have to inform anyone about a decision that only concerns their building?” you shot back, less calm, less collected, less fit to be a good lawyer.
“It does concern the other party, though. They suffered damages,” Jongho frowned, and you could tell by the expression on Felix’ and Eric’s faces that they felt uncomfortable, but you couldn’t bring yourself to back down.
“It’s not like A would’ve had any right to stop them, so why make a big deal out of it before anything even happened? It wouldn’t have changed anything!”
“Right,” he huffed, “Why bother talking about things, when the decision was already made, huh?” Something flashed through Jongho’s eyes, bitter, hurt, angry.
Felix cleared his throat, “Uhm, guys, are we still talking about the case?”
The mask of indifference returned to Jongho’s face, “Obviously.”
“What else would we be talking about,” you added, but your voice was barely convincing. Truthfully, you didn’t know. It didn’t feel like it.
Once the group session was concluded you hurried to pack up your things, this time not at all interested in staying back with Jongho again, but it seemed you weren’t getting much of a choice. The second you’d stuffed everything into your back, you bid them farewell and rushed out of the café, but Jongho easily caught up to you.
“Let’s talk.”
“I don’t have anything to talk about,” you replied with a dry voice, starting to make your way towards the campus.
“Well, then just listen. Because I have something to talk about.”
You rolled your eyes but still stopped and turned around to look at him. “Let’s hear it then.”
“I know we broke up,” he started and it felt like the worst way to start a conversation, honestly, “But that doesn’t mean you can sabotage the group.”
“I’m not sabotaging anything.”
“You get snippy whenever I criticize anything.”
You want to kill him. For a brief moment you feel like maybe, breaking up was the right choice. “Maybe your criticism isn’t all that great, Jongho, ever considered that? Maybe you are not actually smarter than everyone else.”
You didn’t truly believe what you were saying but he was stunned for a moment and then, to your surprise, shrugged. “Fair enough. Still, I’d prefer not to have arguments in the group that feel so personal.”
“Well, I’m sorry for having feelings. Not surprising that you can’t relate to that though.”
His face hardened ever so slightly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that just because you can pretend the break up didn’t happen and are completely fine, the same doesn’t have to apply to me.”
“Well, just because I’m not dealing with it the same way as you doesn’t mean I don’t care at all!” His face was gleaming with an anger so intense, it might’ve scared you under different circumstances. But right now you felt smug about finally breaking his mask of calm indifference. It was satisfying. Maybe you couldn’t make him love you, but you at least still mattered enough to make him angry.
“And besides,” he continued, “Y/n, you broke up with me! You don’t get to talk to me like that.”
And he was right. It was you who'd said the words first. But you'd never meant them, not really. You'd just felt so inadequate, like a stain on Jongho's perfect life. He'd always been just a little bit too perfect to be a real person; prestigous family, flawless CV, perfect grades, and despite all that somehow still a loveable personality. You on the other hand were lacking both brains and ambition, only studying law to somehow satisfy your parents despite knowing they would never be satisfied anyway. And then, when Jongho had gotten a job offer at a renown law firm at the end of last semester while you struggled to even get internships, you'd felt you'd lost your place next to him once and for all. So you'd asked him to break up, not because that was what you'd wanted, but because you'd hoped he would stop you and assure you of your right to remain by his side. But instead, when you'd spit your stupid lies about how we'd never last in the real world anyway, he'd just huffed a laugh. Sure, he'd said, Might as well end it now.
You swallowed around the lump clogging your throat. “Maybe I broke up, but you sure had no qualms agreeing to it."
"What?” He let out a sarcastic laugh, “Should I have begged for you to stay?"
"Yes! Yes, you should have!" A timid ‘why didn’t you?’ hung in the air, unspoken.
There was defeat in his voice when he finally spoke up again, "You didn't want me, y/n."
He couldn’t be further from the truth. "I always wanted you." You’d just needed assurance, needed to know he wanted you enough to fight for you. But he didn’t.
In your peripheral vision, you spotted Felix and Eric coming out of the café as well. Felix headed down the street, but Eric was coming your way. Jongho must’ve spotted him too, by the way his demeanor seemed to change at the blink of an eye. It was a subtle shift, maybe not even noticeable to anyone else. But you noticed in the way he let go of the tension in his jaw, in the way the anger disappeared from his eyes.
"Then you shouldn’t have broken up with me," was all he said, calm, definite, the end of a conversation. And of course he was right, as he always was: you shouldn’t have. But why didn’t he call you out on it? Why didn’t he say you don’t mean that, so you could’ve said you’re right, you always are. But maybe the fact you wanted him to take responsibility for your behavior, wanted him to make up for the mistake you made, was one of the reasons he’d decided to go along with it instead.Because who would want to date a person like that?
"All good?" You heard Eric ask as he approached the two of you.
"Yeah, no worries." Jongho’s response barely reached you, like the tears welling up in your eyes were clogging your ears, too.
Right. You trailed behind them, not particularly caring about joining their conversation and rather focusing on keeping yourself from crying. No worries. The words rang in your head like they were mocking you. As if all of this meant nothing, was nothing to worry about. But maybe those were his true feelings. Might as well end it now, right?
When you got out of your last lecture of the day, still sorta out of it, you were suddenly met with a bubbly Eric jogging up next to you.
He grinned, “Did you enjoy the lecture as much as I did?”
“Uh, yeah, totally.”
“I especially loved the part where he talked about penguins.”
Why would your criminal law professor talk about penguins? “To be honest I was only physically there,” you admitted sheepishly and Eric laughed.
“Yeah, I could tell. I was sitting like, right behind you. You didn’t even notice.”
“Sorry,” you scrunched up your face in apology.
“Nah, it’s fine,” he naturally fell into step with you, “Are you headed home?”
“Yeah, you?”
“Got another lecture.”
“I see.”
For a moment it was quiet between the two of you, before Eric picked the conversation back up, “What are you doing Thursday?”
You raised an eyebrow, “Am I supposed to be doing something on Thursday?”
“My roomie and I are hosting a party, you should come.”
“I—uh,” your brain was already coming up with an excuse, but Eric wasn’t done talking yet,
“It seemed like you could use some distraction? And Jongho already said he wouldn’t be there, don’t worry—you know how he isn’t one to go out on a weekday.”
Neither am I, you wanted to argue, but Eric was right, wasn’t he? Maybe you could use some distraction. You yearned for a night of dancing and laughing and partying and not thinking about your ex.
“I’ll think about it?”
“Nice!” He grinned widely, “I’ll text you the address. Oh, and you should bring your friends along too—Wooyoung and San, right?”
“I just said I—” but he suddenly seemed to be in a rush to get to his lecture,
“I’ll see you there!” he said as if it was already a sure fact, and perhaps it was.
“Yeah, sure,” you sighed and watched him disappear, before you fished out your phone and opened the group chat.
Party on thursday @ eric’s you texted and it didn’t even take a minute before the replies came in
woo: noice
san: pregame at our place?
woo: U can come by at 6 y/nnie
The party was nice. The music was good and the people were friendly enough that it felt easy to mingle. Felix was there, too, as well as Changbin who immediately roped Wooyoung into a round of beer pong. They played against some of his friends that you didn’t know at first, before you were convinced to go up against them together with Eric’s roommate, Juyeon, in the next round.
Unfortunately you weren’t gifted at all and Juyeon wasn’t gifted enough to balance it out. You let out a sigh as your ball once again bounced off the rim of a cup before ultimately falling onto the table.
“We’ll get the next one,” Juyeon assured, but you both knew there wouldn’t be a next one, unless Wooyoung missed his shot too. He and Changbin already had you down to the last cup, and you could already feel the slight dizziness of the alcohol in your body.
“Hope you’re still thirsty,” Wooyoung teased with a grin as he lifted his hand to aim. You wanted to say something back, but right then someone walked through the door behind him. Jongho. What was he doing here? It was so unlike him to go out during the week. Why would he suddenly change things up?
His gaze flitted over the people in the room.
Wooyoung made his toss. The ball hit the rim of the cup, circling it once, twice.
Jongho’s eyes landed on you.
The ball dropped into the cup.
Juyeon said something consoling. Wooyoung and Changbin celebrated with a loud cheer and a tight hug. You felt like throwing up.
The winning team slid their remaining cups to your side of the table, while Jongho averted his gaze and made his way over to the kitchen area. You grabbed the first cup and downed it, hoping to swallow the sick feeling along with it, then the next and the next until there wasn’t a single one left. There was cheering and hollering, but you didn’t listen, nor did you care, because all that mattered was that Jongho was here.
“I could’ve emptied some too, you know? You didn’t have to drink by yourself,” Juyeon looked at you with a mixture of surprise and worry.
“I was just so thirsty?” You forced and laugh and wanted to playfully nudge his side, but the movement made you lose your balance that you only regained by grabbing onto the edge of the table, “Oh, oops,” you tried not to slur your speech, but you suddenly realized how drunk you were. It made you feel pathetic and embarrassed.
“Are you okay?” Juyeon’s hand hovered over your back, not quite touching you but ready to steady you if needed.
“I—uhm,” you still felt so sick, probably more so than before, because, unsurprisingly, beer wasn’t the best medicine for an upset stomach. You blinked, slowly. The world was spinning.
“I think you could use some fresh air,” Juyeon concluded and you just nodded stupidly. He led you towards one of the closed doors in the apartment, a bedroom, you realized, and then towards the full height window, that turned out to be a balcony door as you got closer.
You let out a marvelling “Oooh” as he opened the door and maneuvered you onto the bench outside.
“Wait here, I’ll get you a glass of water, alright?”
You nodded and somewhat registered him leaving, but your eyes were fixed onto the blinking lights of the city that laid before you like a carpet of stars. It was really beautiful. There was a flowerpot in the corner. Maybe you had to puke.
Jongho was on his way home when Sanha called him. He already figured it would be about Eric’s party before he even picked up—he’d seen the messages in their 00z group chat. He picked up with a sigh.
“Why are you even bothering? You know I won’t come,” he said instead of a greeting. Jongho didn’t like going out during the week, especially if he had an early lecture the next day like he did tomorrow.
Sanha huffed and Jongho could see his grin before his inner eye.
“What?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to change your mind,” his friend replied. Jongho could hear music and voices in the background, Sanha must’ve already arrived at Eric’s.
“How so?” He doubted there was anything Sanha could say now to make him come running, but he couldn’t deny that his curiosity was piqued, if only ever so slightly.
“Y/n is here.”
Jongho stopped in his tracks. That couldn’t be. Why would you be at Eric’s party? When he asked Sanha that exact question, the other seemed a lot less irritated by the fact.
“I suppose she was invited?”
“But why?! And why would she come?!”
“She probably accurately assumed that you wouldn’t come.”
No, fuck that. Jongho was definitely going. He had to. He turned around on the spot and walked back towards the bus station with quick steps. He wouldn’t make the next bus, but the one after it should work. “I’ll be there in 15, maybe 20 minutes.”
Sanha let out a laugh at the other end of the line, “I knew you’d say that. After all you even made me switch groups just to be on the s—”
“Shut up,” Jongho interrupted him, “Don’t talk about that when you and the whole world are at Eric’s right now. I don’t really need anyone to know.”
“Mhm,” Sanha hummed, “Just remember you still owe me that coffee.”
“Yeah, sure,” Jongho rolled his eyes. He’d reached the main street now and he could see the earlier bus at the intersection. As expected, he wasn’t going to make that one unless he ran.
“By the way, when did y/n get so chummy with Juyeon? Did they know each other?”
Jongho felt the breath being knocked out of his lungs, “What?”
“They’ve been talking for quite a while now, and she’s been laughing a lot. Since when is Juyeon funny?”
“He’s not.” Jongho hastened his steps, eyes fixed on the bus getting closer. Actually, he could probably still make that one.
“Right? Anyway it seems they’ve teamed up at beer pong.”
You sucked at beer pong. You’d probably get drunk. Or Juyeon could play the gentleman and drink for you and make you fall for his stupidly pretty face and tall frame. Yeah, no.
Jongho fell into a jog before he straight up started running while the bus was rolling into the stop. He made it just in time before the doors closed.
“You good?” Sanha asked when he heard his heavy breathing through the line.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there in ten.”
“Ten suddenly?”
“Caught a bus earlier than expected.”
Sanha laughed. “Someone’s desperate.”
“Just shut up and have a drink ready for me.”
“Of course. See you in ten.” There was still amusement in his voice. Sanha seemed to be having a lot of fun at his expense.
When he arrived he marched right into a game of beer pong—Wooyoung and Changbin against you and Juyeon. Sanha was right, the two of you seemed chummy. Why? Since when? Did you get to know each other during the break? Your eyes met his for a brief moment. You seemed shocked, as if you truly hadn’t expected Jongho to be here, and if he was being truthful that hurt a little. A part of him had entertained this secret fantasy that maybe, possibly, you came tonight hoping to see him. After all, Eric was his friend. It made sense for Jongho to be here, more sense for him than for you. But you looked truly caught off guard with your wide eyes. And also a little drunk; Jongho could tell from the slight redness on your cheeks and forehead. It was cute—
He tore his gaze away. He needed a drink. And so did you it seemed, because he could see you emptying one cup after the other from his peripheral vision. He hadn’t wanted Juyeon to be your shining knight, hadn’t wanted you to have a chance to witness Juyeon’s cool side. But now, seeing you drink them all by yourself made him angry too. You were clearly drunk already, why was no one drinking for you?
Sanha pulled him out of his thoughts as he held a cup under Jongho’s nose.
“Your drink, as promised.”
Jongho took a huge swig of whatever was in there, “Yeah, thanks.” It left a slight burn in his throat.
“You just arrived and you already look ready to go home.”
“Well, I didn’t expect to walk straight into that.” He nodded towards the beer pong table. Juyeon’s hand was at the small of your back. The plastic cup crinkled under Jongho’s tightening grip.
“Easy, cowboy, you know you’re not y/n’s boyfriend anymore, right?”
Jongho shot him a death glare, “You know as well as I do that that whole break-up was bullshit.”
“I don’t think I’m equipped to have an opinion here,” Sanha replied vaguely, taking a sip of his own drink, “but whatever the case, you’re not back together.”
“Yet,” Jongho corrected. His eyes followed you as Juyeon led you away and Jongho had been at this apartment often enough to know the room you were just entering was Juyeon’s bedroom. His cup got crushed further beneath his fingers. That asshole. You were clearly way too drunk to consent.
“Hold this for a second,” he shoved his mangled cup at Sanha and then took big strides through the crowd of the party guests towards the door you just disappeared behind. Before he reached it though, it swung open again and Juyeon came out, almost stumbling into him. “Oh, sorry,” He looked slightly startled but seemed to catch up on Jongho having purposely followed him when the latter didn’t budge.
“Y/n is quite drunk,” Juyeon said as if it was a good explanation.
“I saw that,” His response was unnecessarily harsh, something he was aware of, but didn’t care to change.
“She’s out on the balcony. I was gonna get her some wa—”
“I’ll take care of it,” Jongho interrupted.
Juyeon seemed unsure for a moment, probably figuring out in his head if Jongho, the ex-boyfriend, could be trusted to take care of you, but ultimately nodded, perhaps driven by the insight that he himself, an almost stranger to you, was definitely a lesser choice. “Let me know if you need something e—”
“I won’t, thanks.” Jongho was already on his way back to the kitchen area to get a glass of water for you.
“Maybe take a bucket with you as well—”
“I can handle it.” Jongho didn’t know himself to be this snippy. But alas.
A few minutes later, he stepped out onto the balcony, glass of water in one hand and a big mixing bowl in the other (how was he supposed to know where they kept their buckets? And Eric was god-knows where and he definitely wasn’t going to ask Juyeon, because despite having been wrong about him taking advantage of your drunk state, he still felt somewhat upset just looking at the guy).
You were sitting on the bench, hugging one of the seat cushions to your chest as you stared into the night sky. You didn’t immediately turn your head to look at him, and even when you finally did it seemed to take you a moment to register that it was him. You blinked slowly, your gaze dropping to the glass in his hands and then back up to his face.
“Juyeon will bring me water,” you said and even though Jongho knew it was probably just because you were drunk, he was surprised by the softness in your voice. It’d been a while since you spoke to him without any underlying anger. Not that he’d been much better, though.
“I told him I’d do it.”
“Why would you?” Your speech was slightly slurred.
“Why wouldn’t I?” He handed you the glass and took it without letting go of the cushion, which made it look quite cumbersome. Still you managed to take a sip before trying to hand it back to him.
“Have some more,” Jongho suggested and you did so without complaints. He sat down on the bench next to you, on the side without a cushion, and wondered what he was doing here.
“Are you disappointed? That I showed up instead?”
You didn’t look up from the empty glass as you carefully placed it on the ground in front of your feet, only for Jongho to put it on the window sill instead to make sure you wouldn’t accidentally break it.
“No,” you finally replied.
Relief washed over him, as well as a sense of reason. If you didn’t mind him being here, if you didn’t prefer someone else taking care of you, then there was nothing wrong with him doing so.
“I puked into the flower pot,” you admitted out of nowhere, in between tiny sips of water, and Jongho was so caught off guard he let out a laugh. In a petty bout of jealousy he thought that Juyeon deserved the vomit in his flower pot.
“I missed that.”
He raised his eyebrow, “Missed what?”
“Your laugh.”
His chest hurt. “You don’t have to miss it.” You can have as much of it as you want. I’ll laugh all the time if that makes you come back.
“No, I do,” you closed your eyes and leaned back against the bench, “I can’t help myself.”
He wanted to hug you but he knew he couldn’t, so he just remained silent and looked at you.
Your eyelids fluttered before you opened them again, an odd determination in your eyes. You shoved the pillow aside and it fell to the floor. “Can you take me home?”
“Of course.”
He took your hand and helped you up from the bench and when he realized how wobbly you were on your feet, he wrapped one arm around your waist to steady you. He grabbed his things and your jacket on the way out, and then you were already in the elevator down. You didn’t run into anyone of interest (aside from Sanha who met his gaze with a raised eyebrow) and he was glad for that. He didn’t want to explain to anyone why he was here, why he was taking you home, and what he wanted even less was to hand you over to Wooyoung or San, who would surely think it was better for them to take you home. And maybe it was, but Jongho didn’t want to hand you over to anyone, didn’t want to give up this fragile moment of peace between the two of you.
When you stepped outside the building you took a deep breath, as if you hadn’t breathed fresh air in ages, as if you hadn’t just been on the balcony.
“This is nice.”
“Mhm,” he hummed.
“I’m gonna be sick,” and without warning you hunched over and puked in between the trash cans. He tried his best to keep your hair out of your face and slowly rubbed your back until you were done. It was gross, obviously, but a part of him felt nostalgic. It made him feel like your boyfriend again. Like a few semesters back, when you hadn’t quite figured out your tolerance yet and ended parties like this more often than not. And he would take care of you until you felt stable enough to walk home, and when you didn’t he’d carry you on his back and you’d whisper silly little I love you’s into his ear. As he rubbed your back, he wondered when you’d said it last, and if he’d hear it again.
He wiped your mouth with a tissue and gave you the bottle of water he’d still had in his backpack to let you rinse your mouth.
“Better?”
You nodded, “Better.”
“Can you walk?”
You seemed to consider for a moment, as if you were contemplating the correct answer, before you finally shook your head. He huffed a laugh. “Fine then.”
Jongho crouched down in front of you, the way he’d always done, making it easier for you to get on his back. His chest felt tight when you wrapped your arms around him.
And then he started walking, carrying you home because it wasn’t terribly far from here, and because that was what he’d always done. He felt you snuggle into him, tucking your face into his neck, and it was such a small gesture, something he’d considered so normal that he’d barely even noticed it, but now it felt like the world.
“Why didn’t you beg?” You mumble into the collar of his hoodie.
“What?”
“Why didn’t you say no? You could’ve—you could’ve just said no.”
“Hadn’t you already made up your mind? Weren’t you going to tear down the building either way?”
You shook your head, he assumed, and the movement of your hair felt ticklish against his skin. “I just—I wanted you to want me.”
“What kind of nonsense is that?” He looks straight ahead at the streetlights cutting through the darkness. “You know I wanted you.”
“But that’s different. You wanted me in a college way, not in a future wife way.”
It sounded so ridiculous he wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t, because this was about you and about his relationship and it was too important to laugh, no matter how ridiculous. “What does that mean?”
“It means you would’ve always left me, so I did it first.”
“Are you serious right now?”
“Yeah,” you snuggled further into his neck as if your words weren’t even contradicting that display of affection in the slightest. Though, in your drunk and tired eyes it was probably more about being comfortable and less about showing any kind of affection. “You have your whole life ahead of you after all.”
“Y/n, we’re the same age.”
“But your future is worth more than mine.” You said it so matter of factly, like a truth you’d always known and secretly held onto, and maybe that was the most shocking part. Jongho stopped walking. He even almost dropped you, but remembered to hold on just in time.
“That’s bullshit,” he replied, but he already knew you’d disagree. You’d disagree and then explain to him the ways in which you were right, give arguments that had never even occurred to him. He’d never even considered the value of his life or future, nor had he ever thought to weigh it up against yours. And by what measure, anyway? What made a future more valuable? Who decided that?
You, apparently.
“It’s not. You’ll have your fancy,” you were interrupted by a hiccup, “job and drive a fancy,” another hiccup, “car and I will just,” another, “be me.” The last word slipped from your lips like an insult. “You would’ve left me anyway.”
“I wouldn’t have,” he insisted, “There is no just you. There is you. And I like you.”
“You used to love me, though.”
He did let out a small, huffed laugh now. “And I would say that I still do, if I thought you wanted to hear it.”
“I want to hear it.” Your breathing sounded really calm now, as if you were on the brink of falling asleep.
“I love you.”
He heard the sleepy smile in your voice as you replied, “Me too.”
The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the excruciating headache that only got worsened by the shrill sound of your alarm. You groaned and aimlessly fumbled with your phone until it finally stopped. This was why you didn’t like going out on weekdays.
After another ten minutes of drifting back to sleep, you tapped your phone screen to check the time. Almost 9. Fuck. You were going to miss the lecture. When you closed your eyes once more, hazy memories came back to you. Playing beer pong. Puking into Juyeon’s flower pot. Someone giving you water. Someone holding your hair. Someone carrying you on his back. Someone saying he loves you.
Jongho? You suddenly felt awake. Did that actually happen? Did you just dream it?
A message popped up on your phone screen.
Jongho: we need to talk
Double fuck.
You didn’t want to, but you forced yourself out of bed and into your shower. There’d been painkillers on the nightstand that you’d swallowed down with a big gulp of water and you thought they were already helping. When you finally got dressed and ready to go, your lecture was already halfway over. But you weren’t driving to campus for that lecture anyway.
You sat down on some stairs and waited for Jongho to come out. You needed this talk, as much as he did, probably. But you dreaded it too, confused by your own patchy memories and scared of that small hope inside of you getting crushed again. Still, you waited.
He didn’t smile when he spotted you, but he didn’t look upset either. It was something else, like insecurity and openness, feelings Jongho didn’t tend to wear on his sleeve.
“How are you feeling?” he asked when he plopped down beside you.
“Hungover.”
He chuckled, “I can imagine.”
“Scared, also.”
He frowned, “Of what?”
That you didn’t mean what you said yesterday. Or worse, that it was just a dream. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say that. Not even now, so you shrugged instead.
He nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on his own hands. Speaking didn’t seem to come easy to him either, and it made you feel closer to him, reminded you that he wasn’t this perfect entity but rather also just a person.
“Did you mean what you said yesterday?” he finally asked.
You didn’t remember half the things you said. “Which part?”
“All of them. That you wanted me to stop you. That you thought I’d be leaving you anyway,” he took a small breath, “That you love me.”
It felt like a now or never type of situation. If you weren’t going to be honest now, when would you? So you nodded. “Yes.”
“All of them?”
“...Yes.”
Jongho turned to look at you and there was so much hurt and vulnerability and desperation in his eyes, it almost made you feel sick to look at him because you knew this was your fault.
“I wasn’t going to leave,” he said and you think he said something like that yesterday too.
“I’m sorry,” you replied because it was the only thing you could come up with, “I’m sorry for not trusting you.”
“And I won’t leave now, either, if you don’t want me to.”
Your eyes widened, unable to quite grasp the meaning of his words.
“But you can’t break up with me again. Not unless you mean it.”
Tears were welling up in your eyes, and you knew you were still on campus and it wasn’t the best place to get emotional, but you didn’t care. “I’m sorry,” you whispered again with a wobbly voice.
“That’s not an answer.”
You sniffed, “I won’t. I won’t break up with you again.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He let out a breath, as if he’d been holding onto it for a long time.
“Good.” He took your hand and intertwined your fingers and it felt so good, so reassuring, so much like home to be connected to him like that again. He stared at your hands long and hard and it made you think he was probably thinking about the same thing. But then he said “You know your future isn’t actually less valuable than mine, right?”
You almost felt ashamed. Like a child that’d messed up. You knew the answer would be Yes but it would also be a lie, so you stayed silent.
“And to be honest, I’d much prefer to think of it as our future anyway.”
Ours. That sounded pretty nice. It sounded like a shared apartment and getting groceries and taking vacations together. It sounded like building a home. It sounded like being together.
“I’d like that.”
A smile spread on his lips before he connected them with yours. “Good,” he said again.
“Good,” you repeated.
masterlist | collab masterlist
thx for reading! pls consider reblogging & commenting <3
wc: 1k; tags: psychological horror, paranormal forces implied to be at play or maybe you're just losing your mind, lowkey yandere!yh; warnings: blood, mentions of death/wanting to die, no implied or graphic violence despite the genre
a small drabble for the nightmare before christmas collab
a/n: is this what i have actually planned for the collab? well no, but i needed a little break from working on the actual fic, and the idea for this kind of yunho au has been haunting @blizzardfluffykpop and me for quite a while now~ hope you enjoy! also do check out the other fics for the collab (&you can still join too)~
collab masterlist | ateez masterlist
The snow is biting at your bare feet with sharp teeth and your toes have long started to feel numb. But you need to keep going, the few meters of rope you have left proof of how far you’ve come. The rough surface has scraped your palms to the point of leaving them sore and bloody, but you can barely register the pain. Like your toes, your hands are numb from the cold and the tips of your fingers are already turning blue. Still, you hold onto the rope, keeping it taut and making sure it stays as straight as possible behind you. You’ve tried to escape this cursed forest one too many times to let go now, not when this is the closest to a plan you’ve ever had.
You’ve found the seemingly endless rope in the basement and then patiently waited for him to fall asleep before you snuck out and tightly secured it around one of the wooden pillars on the porch in the early morning hours. Surely, if you just keep it in a straight line behind you, you will not end up going in a circle again. Surely, it will be different this time. Surely, you’ll never have to see that goddamn house again. He’ll regret letting you roam around so freely, but by the time he notices you’ll already be long gone.
That fighting spirit is hard to keep up though. You're at a disadvantage, not just because of the snow, but also because the days are too short. The sun has already started to set and the temperatures will drop even further once the last rays have disappeared at the horizon. And he is going to wake up too. You know you have to reach something, you have to be somewhere, before the night falls. But you're reaching your limit. Your steps are becoming slower with every meter. The cold has crept into every crevice of your lungs, making it painful and hard to breathe. And with every passing moment, with every snowflake settling on the crown of your head, hope is shrinking. You're not going to make it. Maybe, if you're lucky, someone will find you out here before he does. Or maybe you’ll just die here. It doesn’t seem that scary now. Rather, the thought of falling into a deep and endless sleep seems almost comforting. At least you wouldn’t be freezing anymore. At least you wouldn’t be dragged back again.
But then, your bleary eyes spot something in the growing darkness. A small cottage between the tall trees. There’s smoke rising up from the chimney and light behind the windows.
Someone.
Help.
Hope.
You can almost forget the pain as you stumble forward, gathering your last strength to reach the cottage. After all the failed attempts, you’ll finally be safe. Whoever lives there will surely help you. You’ll get to go home.
You get closer, step by step. You can see the candles in the windows giving out a soft warm glow. You can see a familiar chair on the porch, white fur draped over it for comfort. And you see something tied around one of the pillars. A rope. It's wrapped around the dark wood, once, twice, secured by a tight knot. The short end is dangling beneath it, the other is leading out into the forest, disappearing somewhere between the endless trees.
You let out a laugh—shrill, desperate, hysteric. When you look behind, the rope in your hand is in a straight line, like it has been this whole time. You drop it into the snow, and the rope tied to the pillar slacks too. You still can’t stop your manic laughter, even when none of this feels the slightest bit funny at all. It's an automatic response, a reaction born from the inability to comprehend the cruel truth you're being confronted with. The tears rolling down your cheeks feel cold. Slowly, you sink to your knees, your joints frozen from the long walk. It was all for nothing. You barely feel the snow soaking through the fabric of your pants as you curl up on yourself, laughing, crying, sobbing. You wish you'd never gotten this far. You wish you would have died before getting here. But how foolish to think he'd ever let you.
You don’t bother to look up when you hear steps in the snow. It doesn’t matter anymore.
“Dearest, what are you doing out here, hm?” Yunho's voice is soft and gentle. He crouches down beside you and it doesn’t even make you flinch when he wipes away the tears staining your cheeks. “You’re not wearing shoes. What were you in such a hurry for, that you couldn’t put on shoes?” He sighs, as if you're just a silly kid that went out barefooted. As if you didn't risk your life just to get away from him, again and again and again.
You don’t resist when he lifts you up and carries you back towards the house. You know fighting is futile. His arms are wrapped around you tightly, and if you’re not careful you could almost find comfort in his steady hold. Your head lolls forward, coming to rest on his shoulder. You’re glad you don’t have to look at him. Instead, you stare into the snowy forest all around you. You wonder if you’ll get to see anything else ever again.
“Will you ever let me go home?” your voice sounds so distant, you barely register it as your own.
“But, dearest,” he replies with a little chuckle, “We're already there.”
He takes the familiar wooden steps leading up to the porch, carrying you like you barely weigh anything to him at all. When he pushes open the front door, you're immediately engulfed in the warmth radiating from the crackling fireplace. It's a blessing to your frozen body.
“Home sweet home,” he hums and you hear the smile in his voice. You’re scared you'll start believing it one of these days.
soobin has vowed to protect you and he will hold onto that promise, even if you yourself have already given up
wc: 0.8k; tags: historical/royal au, angst (with a hopeful ending); warnings: mentions of blood, fire, death (no mcd), reader being carried
masterlist | prequel
Soobin halts before your chambers, taking a brief moment to catch his breath and collect himself even in this moment of great urgency. Maybe it's the need to appear proper in front of you, or maybe he's just scared of what he'll find behind these doors. When he finally does step in, the room lies before him dark and silent, lit up only by the fires burning outside. You’re standing close to the window, hair down in your fancy dress, watching it all unfold with a calmness that strikes Soobin as odd. It’s like the haste and noise that he had to fight through to find you here, all the blood and smoke and screaming, it suddenly dissipates at the sight of you. It’s like he’s reached the eye of the storm, your chambers a haven of tranquility as they lay before him undisturbed.
"Soobin," You turn around slowly, a smile on your lips that reads sadness and not the slightest sliver of hope, "I'm glad it's you."
Soobin is glad that it's him who has found you, too, but he can't really feel relieved. There is something off with the way you look at him, the way you move so slowly without any haste, even though there is no time to spare if you want to live.
....You want to live, right? You haven't given up yet, have you?
You step closer to him until there's barely any space between you, bare feet against the cold marble floor, and Soobin has to resist the urge to lift you up, to carry you so your noble feet don't have to touch the ground.
You reach up, and he almost flinches when your fingers graze his skin, knowing all too well he isn't worth your touch, and even less now when he's dirty with sweat and blood and ashes. You show no signs of hesitation though as you gently push a few strands of hair out of his forehead. You don't ask him to bow either, and he doesn’t even though he knows he should, but he can't bear to look away from you and cast his gaze to the floor.
"Soobin," you say again, your palm briefly cupping his cheek before it wanders down his arm and comes to rest on his hand, that is still holding his sword. "You will make it quick, won't you?" You let out a little sigh, "I know it's not a mercy my bloodline deserves, but maybe, if there’s at least a trace of affection left from the countless hours spent together, you could grant me this favor?"
Soobin swallows hard, his brain unwilling to catch up with what the uneasy feeling in his stomach has already understood. "What are you saying, your highness?"
"I'm no highness anymore, not after tonight."
"Still—" But you don't let him speak, your fingers tightening their grip on him. "I'd much rather die by your hand, than anyone else's. I know you'd lay me to rest much gentler than most."
"No," he hears the urgency in his own voice and feels the way tears are welling up in his eyes, and while he knows this display of distress is inadequate, he doesn't think this is the moment to hold back just for the sake of proper conduct. His free hand grabs yours, pulls it away from his sword, and holds it close to his chest, "If you die tonight, then so will I."
Your words tremble as you reply, "The crown has already fallen, Soobin. You mustn't go down with it just to fulfil your duty."
He swallows thickly, "I have no duty towards the crown, nor do I find myself intrigued to fight with the rebellion. This sword's sole purpose is to protect you, for I've sworn my loyalty to you and you alone, your highness. If you decide it's the last night, I will gladly go with you."
A chuckle slips past your lips, but it isn't humorous, just sad. "How foolish. Like a dog who follows the very master who put a leash around his neck."
"If my loyalty is truly a leash, it has never felt as such. You never yanked on it, it has not once cut into my skin."
"How foolish," you say once more, but you don't mock him again.
There's a loud noise outside, he thinks maybe the archway has collapsed under the raging fire of the rebellion.
"What do you decide, your highness?"
"What decision is there to make? I can forsake my life but not yours, never yours."
A smile spreads on his lips as his grip around your hand tightens. "Then you'll just have to live, your highness."
You give him a small nod, "My life is in your hands."
He sheathes his sword and finally does what he wanted to do the second he saw your bare feet; he lifts you off the floor, ready to carry you as far as needed to get you to safety. "I'll make sure to treasure it."
masterlist | prequel | pls consider reblogging/commenting if you liked this ♡
