#wait hold on . thinking about 127 unit doing a concept like touch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sluttyten · 3 years

Text

whiplash 2.0

sequel to WHIPLASH

summary: You once held a knife to Mark’s skin as you fucked him, and he absolutely loved it even though you hate each other. Now a few months have gone by apart from each other, and you’ve barely reunited before that spark of hatred and lust is reignited, and the interest in danger play begins again.

length: 6,626

tags/warnings: idolverse, enemies to lovers, dark smut, gun play, some dom/sub, smut!!, fluffy toward the end?

After that one night at the hotel, you and Mark have kept your distance from each other, which wasn’t hard to do as shortly after that your unit’s promotions ended and each of your went back to your own units. 127 was kept busy, and your unit started working in lots of advertising and modeling gigs.

You barely thought of Mark except on those rare occasions when you had some time alone to yourself, enough peace of mind to relax and allow yourself to feel horny.

It was during those private moments in the shower or in the miraculous privacy of the room that you shared with two other girls that you thought of Mark, thought of that night and the way being with him had made you both feel. Even though the relief of fucking him, domming him with your switchblade playing a major role in the night, you don’t allow your imagination to carry it any farther than just lust.

He’s still Mark. Still the guy that you can’t stand. All it takes is bumping into him once at work to remind you that that night had just been an overwhelming mess of emotions that you’d both turned into lust. You know it’s still for the best to keep apart from him.

But the time eventually came when your company decided what the industry needed was another dose of the NCT coed unit.

“Fucking Mark!” You storm out of the practice room, launching your water bottle at the wall across the hallway. It bounces off and rolls across the floor harmlessly.

Dance practice had been running for hours now. You were exhausted, hungry, sore. You didn’t need an argument with Mark on top of all of that, but he’d gone in search of one with you.

It was like he knew exactly what nerves to touch on to fire you up so quickly. You were just glad he’d waited until practice was over to burn down the fragile peace that you’d both silently agreed upon when you walked into that room earlier in the afternoon.

But now it’s late and you’re pissed.

The only other girl in the unit, Jiah, steps out behind you, rolling her eyes at your dramatics. “I don’t get what you’re so angry about.” She scoops up your bottle and squeezes past you. “You are on your period, so was his comment really so unwarranted?”

“Yes!” You hiss. “I’m not just angry because I’m on my period. Mark was just being a dick like always, and when I called him out on it, he accused me of my mood being like this because I must be on my period. Like an asshole.”

Your manager catches up as you and Jiah reach the exit. He falls into step beside you on the way to the van. “I thought you and Mark had fixed this,” he says quietly. “After you apologized to him that night.”

“It wasn’t too much of an apology, to be honest.” You think back to that night--the way your whole body had burned with the intention of threatening him, of seeing him aroused by that threat in you, the way you’d lied to your manager that you were just going into Mark’s room to apologize when you knew fully well that you were about to hold a switchblade to Mark’s throat. “We, I guess, just made a brief peace. It’s over now.”

You can sense the disappointment radiating off of both your manager and your groupmate, the irritation they’re both feeling when they consider the future of arguments between you and Mark.

And hours later when you’re back at the dorm, showered and fresh and attempting to relax with a hot pad on your aching belly, your phone buzzes with a message from Mark: are you really on your period or something?

fuck off.

The music video shoot for your unit’s new song Love Fever is filmed a week later. It’s a darker concept, each member given a role of a criminal in this underground organization set in a neon-lit city. Hendery’s in the middle of complimenting your outfit for the camera, talking about how he likes the spikes and chains, the shuriken earrings, the neon green sections of hair framing your face.

That’s when Mark slips up behind you both. He and Hendery switch to talking about the video, about their hopes for the fans reception of it.

You watch Mark out of the corner of your eye, still nodding along and smiling at what Hendery’s saying, but you’re also drinking in the details of Mark’s outfit. The fake tattoos. The leather. A fake lip piercing that hugs the middle of his bottom lip.

Absentmindedly your tongue darts out along your bottom lip. Mark glances at you and then at the camera you’re meant to be paying attention to, and he stretches out his arm, pointing a prop gun at the camera, and he says, “And we hope you’ll get hit by that Love Fever after watching.”

He pretends to fire the gun, then lifts it back to his face and blows at the non-existent smoke. As the cameras move away, and Hendery peels off to go interject himself into a conversation Renjun is having nearby, you look at Mark.

His lips curl into a smile as he pulls the gun away from his face.

“I can’t believe they gave you a gun.” You reach for the prop, trying to take it from his hand, but Mark jerks it out of your reach.

“It’s just a fake one.” He holds it behind his back now as you take a step forward, and he lifts a hand up toward your face. For a second you think he’s about to caress your face, but at the last second his fingers just flick your hair aside. “They gave you throwing stars as earrings, and I think you and I both know that you’re more likely to turn those into weapons than I am to make this into one.” He brings the gun up to wave it at your face.

When you slap it away, not liking it pointing right in your face even if it is just a prop, it flies out of Mark’s hand, skittering away across the floor.

Mark doesn’t move, he stands still right in front of you, staring down into your face. You lift your gaze to his, noting the dark heat in his eyes, and you whisper, “Are you just trying to bait me into a big fight? Trying to tempt me into threatening you again?”

“Is it working?” Mark asks, his tone deep and bold, and he takes a step closer. The toes of his shoes bump against yours, and you’re standing as close as you can be, Mark is just tall enough to tower intimidatingly over you. And there’s that heat behind his eyes that melts something in you, something important that lets all that sharpened courage flood out of you.

Suddenly you feel like you’re the one with a knife pressed to your skin, and just as Mark had likely felt those months ago when you did it to him, you’re not entirely frightened by the threat of this person in front of you.

“Hey!” Doyoung comes out of nowhere, stepping in between the two of you. He puts a hand to Mark’s chest, a hand on your shoulder, and pushes the two of you apart. “We have a music video to shoot. Try not to kill each other on set.”

For the rest of the day, as the long hours of the shoot drag on and on, you can’t get the thought of Mark trying to intimidate you out of your mind. Your mind keeps flashing back to the fire in his eyes, the way his voice had dropped low when he stood toe-to-toe with you. You think of him brandishing that gun at you, and you remember the silver glint of your knife against his skin months ago.

“Hello?” A pair of fingers snaps before your eyes. “Are you alright?”

You realize you’ve been staring, your eyes glazed over, toward where Mark is shooting a solo scene. He’s got the gun in hand, using the prop well to get the intense vibe of his verses across.

The fingers snap in front of your face again. “Hello?”

“Hmm?” You glance at Jiah beside you. She’s just staring at you, so you quickly say, “Sorry, I think I must just be getting tired.”

She folds her arms over her chest. “You’ve been acting so weird today.”

Yuta’s sitting beside you, and right then, he reaches over, his fingers brush your cheek so lightly. He asks, “Are you sure you’re fine? Your face is looking kinda flushed. You can’t be getting sick, you know.”

“I’m not sick!” You bring the back of your hand up to touch your other cheek. At the same moment, you look up and notice Mark looking in your direction. You swear you grow just a little warmer. Fuck.

Yuta’s hand drops away. “Well, something’s definitely up with you.” He leans forward to look at Jiah on your other side, and to her he says, “She is acting weird.”

You cross your legs and try your best to think of anything but Mark Lee and the ways you’ve threatened each other.

Hours later, after the day’s filming has drawn to a close and you’re settled back in your dorm, your phone buzzes with a new message from Mark. You’re about to just swipe the notification away, ignoring him altogether. You’ve showered and now you’re snuggled in the corner of your bed, your iPad propped against your knees for you to watch the latest episode of your favorite drama.

“Hey, we’re going out.” One of the other girls pops her head through the doorway. “Do you want to come eat?”

“Where are you going?” You already know you don’t really want to go. You’re comfy and tired from the long day of shooting. And when you hear her answer--a restaurant halfway across the city that’s going to have the night stretching on for several more socially exhausting hours--you shake your head no. “I think I’m going to stay in and relax.”

She nods as one of the others peers around the door. “Are you coming?”

“No, she wants the dorm all to herself, enjoying the peace and quiet without your noise.” They poke and prod at each other, inciting a fit of shrieks and giggles as they turn from the room, closing the door back behind them.

You sigh. They’re not wrong. Your unit consists of six girls. Normally, you share your bedroom with two of them, and the other three are in another room. The dorm is always noisy with the youngest of your members busy playing video games loudly or watching her favorite streamers at a loud volume. Jiah’s noisy, always singing or rapping or watching her favorite movies and reciting the lines. The other girls are also just loud, and everyone is ever-present.

“Bye! We’ll message later to see if you want anything before we leave” One of them shouts out to you, and then you hear the sound of the dorm door opening and closing, and the dorm falls blessedly silent. You don’t know the last time you had the place to yourself like this, especially not with the promise of having alone time uninterrupted for a few hours.

You sink deeper into your pillows and blankets, and you tap on the episode you want to watch.

You’ve made it maybe five minutes into the episode, barely past the recap of the dramatic end of the last episode, when the banner appears on the top of your screen that Mark is trying to FaceTime you.

With a frown you attempt to swipe the notification away, and to your horror your screen misinterprets the touch and answers his damn call.

Suddenly, instead of the face of the handsome male lead in the drama, your screen is filled with Mark Lee’s shadowy face.

Before you even get the chance to ask him, “What do you want?” Mark is already speaking, “I texted you,” he says, and then, “What are you doing right now?”

Taken aback, it takes you a moment to formulate your answer. “I’m trying to watch a drama and relax and not be annoyed. The girls finally leave me in the dorm to peace and quiet, and almost right away you call to interrupt. Why?”

“Remember that time you pulled a knife on me?” He asks it as casually as he would say “Remember the time we performed on Inkigayo?”

“What about it?”

The lighting shifts over Mark’s face, and suddenly, you realize that you recognize where he is.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day since our conversation at the set earlier.” The lights pass over Mark’s face again; a familiar convenience store front is just visible as he walks by it. “Did you say you’re in your dorm alone?”

A tendril of lust awakens inside you. “Maybe. If I am, what’s it to you?”

“I’ll be there in five minutes. Let me up.” His voice drops, the tone once more that deep, bold one from earlier. Dominant.

Mark doesn’t wait for an answer. The call ends, and you’re once more staring at the handsome male lead’s face.

This is such a bad idea. Letting Mark into your dorm. Letting him once more between your legs when you both hate each other so much. But you’re weak to resist him. You drop your iPad off on the bedside table, fluff your covers, and consider changing your clothes into something less loungy before deciding that you don’t care. This is Mark. Why should you try to impress him?

By the time he arrives, your heart is pounding, your mind whirring. You like seeing Mark taking the initiative this time. You wonder how quickly he’ll fall apart this time under your blade. It sits heavy in the pocket of your sweatpants, and as you stand in front of the door, waiting for him to knock, you finger the weight of it in your pocket.

So lost in your thoughts of tracing the silver blade down between his abs as you toy with his cock, you jump when there’s a knock on the door. You take just a second to compose yourself, and then you fly at the door, flinging it open.

Mark slips inside quickly, pushing the door closed behind him as he takes your arm and presses your body against the nearest wall, trapping your hands against your belly, the length of his body pinning you in place. Heat flares inside you. You lift your gaze to his face, noting that he’s still got that fake lip piercing, and that he must have truly been thinking about this all day, because as his hips press forward, you can feel something hard poking your leg.

“Happy to see me?” You tease, pressing a hand down between your bodies to the hard line pressing against your thigh.

But then you feel it beneath your fingertips just as you see Mark’s lips tug up into a devious smile. That’s not an erection. No, it’s a different strangely familiar shape of....

“A gun. Not my dick.” Mark presses closer, rolling his hips against you so you can better feel the shape in his pocket. “Borrowed it from the set. I could see how much you liked it.”

You tip your head back and swallow past the lump in your throat. He stole that prop gun. Fuck. All of your plans of teasing him on the tip of your knife slip away, and the only thought occupying your mind is Mark forcing you to your knees to blow him with his gun pointed at your head.

Maybe there’s something wrong with you, you think, because you find that thought so arousing that you almost moan and sink to your knees on the spot.

“Where’d the girls go?” He asks in a voice that’s soft but leaves you no option but to answer.

“Out to dinner.” You try to shift your weight, but Mark presses harder against you. “Across the city. They shouldn’t be back for a while.”

You really, really like seeing Mark like this. The fire in his eyes, the tough set of his jaw. The way he’s pinning you so firmly to this wall. There’s a throbbing in your core, a desperate need awakening in you.

And then you feel it.

The hard weight of the gun pressing into your thigh moves, slipping from his pocket. Mark drags it from his pants, slides the flat side of it up your arm, and when he brings the muzzle up to bump against your jaw lightly, you almost whimper.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” Mark asks. “Gonna listen to what I tell you?”

His gaze follows the movement as you swallow and nod. You know he notices the flutter of your eyelashes as he tilts your chin up with the barrel.

“Show me your bed,” Mark instructs.

As he steps back, opening the way for you to lead him to your bed, you’re suddenly self-aware of the state of the dorm. It’s kind of a mess. There’s clothes strewn about. One of the girls has bras drying over a rack in the corner of the living room. There’s an perpetual trail of glitter on the floor from the kitchen to the bathroom where a birthday present/prank went awry several months ago.

And then you reach your bedroom. There’s stuffed animals piled on one of the girl’s beds. One of them left her collection of makeup on the floor. And you’ve got polaroid photos of you with friends, family, with the girls, staff members, fans, all pinned up on the wall beside your bed. A stuffed elephant your parents gave you when you were a kid sits on the floor beside your bed, bumped from his normal seat on the bed during your rush to make it look presentable earlier. You attempt to sneakily toe him under the bed.

Mark’s in the process of closing the door when you sit down on the edge of your bed. You watch as he slowly turns to face you. You look at the gun.

The thrill it brings you is so much different than when you’d held a knife to Mark. But it’s a strong feeling all the same, even if you aren’t the one in power this time.

Mark crosses to you slowly, like a predator stalking toward his helpless prey, and you lie back on your bed, waiting for him to pounce.

He crawls onto your bed. One knee first. The second. You feel each moment as if it’s an eternity before his weight is settled over you, seated over your hips. The gun presses into the softness beneath your jaw, trailing down your throat, and Mark’s voice rasps a bit as he finally says, “I saw you with Yuta hyung earlier. The way he touched you.”

For a moment, you draw a complete blank as to what Mark is talking about. Then he lifts the gun, and as gently as he can be, caresses your cheek with the muzzle. And just like that you realize that he saw as Yuta touched your cheek and teased you about being sick when really you were just lost in fantasies of Mark.

“Don’t you know if we’re going to play this game, you can only be mine?” Mark cocks his head to the side, and when he moves his thumb, pulling back on the hammer until you hear a click, your heart jolts in your chest. “Only mine to hate? Mine to tease? Mine to fuck?”

He rolls his hips, dipping forward so you can feel the ridge in his pants that is now definitely an erection unless he’s hiding a second prop gun in his pants, but you find that unlikely.

“You’re mine, a little whore, wet just from me pointing a gun at her.”

“I’m not your anything.” You meet his gaze, bucking your hips up.

Mark sits down on your hips more firmly, and the toy gun shifts, the muzzle against your lips, which part as if of their own accord. His eyes light up.

The plasticky taste of the gun slides over your tongue, and you hold Mark’s gaze as he eases the barrel into your mouth, your lips stretched around it looking as pretty as they would around his cock.

His thumb twitches where it still rests on the hammer, and a part of your mind flickers to what would happen if he were to pull the trigger of this toy gun. Obviously nothing as bad as if this were a real weapon, but in the moment as lust overwhelms your mind, you imagine Mark fucking your mouth with the gun, watching with dark desire in his eyes, and pulling the trigger only to have the gun shoot a creamy load to the back of your throat, choking and gagging you on it.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you moan, bringing your hands up to close around Mark’s wrist. You use this leverage to pull the gun back, push it back between your lips, sucking on the barrel as you would on Mark.

“Shit,” he swears. “You look so hot like this. Do you like my gun?”

You hum, letting Mark pull the gun back so just the tip of it rests between your lips, and then you follow it out with your tongue, holding your mouth open so he can rest the gun on your tongue. Mark swallows, his gaze locked on your mouth.

For a moment he looks like he might throw away the gun, just swoop down to kiss you and tear your clothes off, to brutally fuck you into this tiny bed in your cramped dorm room.

But then he sits back on his heels. He rests the gun against your belly.

All you’re wearing tonight is a camisole and your sweatpants. And now, as Mark gazes down at you, you know he can see the hard peaks of your nipples straining against your camisole. He can see the obvious rise and fall of your breasts as the lust pounds through your veins and you try to catch your breath from the thrilling feel of blowing Mark’s gun as a proxy cock.

You wonder if he can also see the desperate hunger for him that’s pulsing inside you with each beat of your heart.

“Mark,” you sigh, rolling your hips.

He slides his hand up over your ribcage, fingers caressing the curve of your breast, tucking under the lacy top edge of the camisole. Mark’s fingertips send tingle through your body as he brings the camisole down, exposing your tits to the cool air of the bedroom.

“Are you just going to tease me, or are you going to actually fuck me at some point?” You groan.

Mark leans down, his lips right above yours, that fake lip ring glinting in the light of your bedroom. “I like seeing you desperate for me instead of pissed for a change.”

You lift up a hand, curling your fingers on his shoulder, nails digging in. “Keep talking, then. See how that works out for you.”

“Maybe shut me up.” Mark brings his face closer, his hand massaging your tit, hips subtly grinding forward.

You have your hands in his hair before another second passes, fingers knotted through his hair, dragging his mouth down against yours. Mark moans into the kiss, his sound melding with yours. His hands pull down on the neckline of your camisole, the thin straps digging uncomfortably into your shoulders.

You groan, pulling back on his hair slightly. His fingers loosen on your top, his teeth bared at the prickle of pain through his scalp.

“I want this off.” You lift your chest and roll your shoulders.

Mark nods. He sits up, and his fingers move to your shoulders, plucking at the straps, guiding them down your arms, dragging the rest of the top lower. Your tits are fully exposed, and you shake your arms loose of the straps, sucking in a breath as Mark lowers his head to your chest. He licks at one of your hard nipples slowly, curiously.

He doesn’t linger there long, shifting his way down your body. His fingers hook in the camisole where it’s bunched around your waist, and they catch inside your sweatpants as well, dragging those down your hips and thighs. Mark moves back so he can tug your clothes the rest of the way down your legs, and then you’re bare in front of him, more bare than you’ve ever really been because this time he’s in charge.

The gun rests on the bed beside your hip where it was dislodged in the undressing.

Mark licks his lips, reaching for the gun. That silver hoop on his bottom lip glints in your bedroom light, drawing your focus, though his focus is between your legs.

He knocks the gun lightly against one of your knees, and obediently you bend your knees, spreading your legs for him.

The muzzle of the gun is still wet with your saliva as he taps it against your inner thigh.

“You’re so wet. Look at how much you want me. How can you even pretend that you hate me?” He nudges the muzzle against your pussy, sliding it upward toward your clit, and your legs twitch. “Want you to think of how wet you are right now, how wet you are because of me, the next time that anyone else touches you. Yuta hyung can’t make you feel like this, can he?”

Honestly, you don’t even want to think of Yuta like this. He’s always been much more like a brother to you than anything else. Mark bringing him up right now... that’s not very hot.

But then Mark gets a single, long finger inside you, crooking it just right. It doesn’t take much before he’s got a second finger in you, still whispering his jealousies to you. You can feel your orgasm rising, the crest almost within sight.

And then Mark pulls his fingers away.

You whine, reaching to pull him back in, but instead you feel the firm press of his new toy. The gun jabs against your thigh.

Maybe there’s definitely something wrong with you, you think, because as Mark slicks the muzzle of the prop gun against your wet pussy again, all you can think of is him pushing it inside you, fucking you with it, his finger on the trigger like he’d done when you had it in your mouth. You can picture it right now, the thrill of it prickles over your skin and lifts your hips so you can just barely feel it press against your entrance.

Mark’s lips curl, his eyes are shadowed as he watches you like this. “Remember when you called me a sick fuck for loving the way you touched me with your knife?” You make some kind of indecipherable noise. Mark nods. “Exactly, so what does that make you right now? Soaking the barrel of a gun, trying to get me to fuck you with it?”

“Just do it,” you whine, lifting your hips.

Mark sinks down now, grabbing your hips to drag you around to the edge of the bed. He kneels on the floor, hands spreading your legs, and he brings the toy gun back to your pussy. “You want this?”

You nod, murmuring a yes for him.

Mark gently presses the barrel of his prop handgun into you. It doesn’t have far to go before you can feel his knuckle brushing your clit, but damn it feels different and strange and exhilarating. You can’t help getting off on the twisted fantasy of the gun being real, his finger on the trigger.

He fucks you slowly with it, his fingers brushing your skin only enhancing the feel, and he’s speaking, but you can barely grasp his words. They might be in another language; you only catch snatches like “pussy” “cum” and “whore,” each word driving you closer to the climax.

And then you feel the light touch of wet heat on your clit: Mark’s tongue. He sucks at your clit, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud, and that combined with his dangerous makeshift dildo drives you over the edge at last.

Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping as Mark keeps going, pushing you to ride your orgasm for a little longer. The golden buzz of it tingles through your fingertips and toes, your thighs drawn in around his head, resting over his shoulders.

You’re gasping for breath, sighing his name still when he pulls away. His lips smear kisses along one of your thighs. The gun falls to the sheets, and then Mark is moving your thighs from his shoulders. You watch as he strips his shirt off, stepping out of his pants easily, and then he’s covering you.

His chest presses against yours, lips softly meeting yours though the words that slip out, “All mine,” are growled roughly, possessively. You twist your arms around his shoulders, sighing his name in his ear when Mark finally gives you his cock.

You hold him close, gasping and moaning, your cheek pressed to his as your bodies move together. Mark fits inside you so well, a perfectly snug fit after the gun, and you lose yourself in the ecstasy of him--memories blur together of the present, of five minutes ago, of the last time you were together like this, the way he’d gotten so hard when you drew blood, the way he came when you pressed down on that cut.

You move your head just enough that you can catch his shoulder between your teeth. You bite down, and Mark swears loudly, moaning and hitting even deeper inside you. You don’t break skin, but the pain is enough for Mark.

He pulls out quickly, and you feel the heat of his cum shooting over your thigh, hip, abdomen, painting stripes over your pussy. He pants and drops his head to your shoulder, dropping his hips down against your leg, and his fingers sneak back down between your legs.

Mark’s fingers are just the magic touch you need for your second orgasm to sweep through you. He kisses his own name from your lips, and then he slides off of you, stretching out alongside you in bed. You turn onto your side to look at him.

Mark stares up at the ceiling of your room for a moment, and you take the opportunity to admire him. He’s handsome. You’ve told him that before. That you find him obviously very physically attractive. So it’s probably no surprise to him when he glances out of the corner of his eye at you and finds you already looking at him.

He smiles and turns his head away, presumably to tame that smile into something less dopey, and then he looks back at you. “What are you looking at?”

You don’t want to admit that you were just checking him out, so you poke at his cheek. “You have some of my cum drying on your cheek.”

Mark brings the back of his hand up to wipe at it, but there’s really nothing there. His hand drops to the pillow between your faces, and Mark keeps looking at you. The silence is peaceful, not tainted with the animosity you normally feel toward each other, not burning with the lust you feel the rest of the time.

“Did you even read my text earlier, or did you just ignore it?” Mark asks after a while.

Honestly, you forgot that he texted you before he FaceTimed you. You shake your head and start to sit up, planning to reach for your phone, but Mark lays a hand on your shoulder.

“What did it say?” You ask, settling back down, knowing that you’re not going to struggle against his gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Nothing really.” Mark swallows, his eyes sweeping over your face. “I just tried to tell you that I’d been thinking about you all day. Basically what I said on FaceTime. Tried asking if you were here, but I have Jiah on Find Friends, and it said that she was here, so I figured you probably were too.”

You try not to feel unsettled by the idea of Mark and Jiah actually getting along, being close enough that Mark can see where she is. You make a mental note to ask her about that later, before you remember that then you’d have to give her an explanation as to how you know that she allows Mark to see her location.

“When you didn’t answer and I was already most of the way here, I figured I should call. Just showing up out of the blue would be weird, but I thought I could use seeing Jiah as an excuse to see you.”

You can’t meet his eyes suddenly. “And why did you need an excuse to see me? If the rest of the girls were here, what would you have done then? It’s not like you could just sneak in here to my room and fuck me without all of them being curious and confused about when we went from hating each other to having sex. Why not wait until you see me, like, tomorrow at the set again? Or the next time we have practice?”

Mark frowns, just the slightest drawing together of his eyebrows.

“Fuck, okay, I might as well tell you. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again ever since we ended promotions,” Mark admits. “Been thinking about having you like this again.”

His hands slide down, caressing your body, pulling you closer to him once more.

Part of you wants to push him away, keep that distance (however slight it had been) between you and him that you know is probably the healthiest option. But a much larger part of you wants to sink into the heat of his touch, wants to rest your head on his shoulder or kiss him again, wants to roll him under you and have him inside you again.

“As soon as we had that first practice together, the whole time all I was thinking of was you that night.” You feel Mark wrap a tendril of your hair around one of his fingers. “I didn’t mean to piss you off so badly. Really. I meant it to be a joke, a way to figure out if you would want to have sex again.”

Your laugh comes out more as a snort. “Nice way to do it. Asking me in front of everyone if I was in a bad mood because I was on my period.”

Mark’s fingers lose the strip of hair and instead draw swirls down the length of your spine. “I’m not very good at this. I haven’t had a whole lot of practice, you know.” His head sinks a little closer to yours. “Things come out of my mouth wrong all the time. Sometimes my filter just--” He waves his hand around as if to suggest that his brain-to-mouth content filter sometimes just takes flight. “Think you can forgive me for all the stupid things I say?”

Can you? Both of you have said lots of stupid things, biting back and forth at each other.

But that was before, wasn’t it? Before you found this new way to work out your frustrations. And honestly, when you’re one-on-one with Mark like this, he’s not so bad.

Can you forgive him? Honestly, you probably already have.

You lean up, and as answer to his question, you part your lips and dart your tongue out to trace the silver hoop hugging his bottom lip, something you’ve thought about since you first saw him earlier that day on set.

“Gross.” His nose wrinkles, and he pulls back just a bit, but he’s smiling, looking down at your face, his gaze flicking back and forth between your eyes and the pink tip of your tongue still peeking out between your lips.

You smile, reach up to curl your hand against the back of his neck, toying with the soft short hairs there. Mark lets you bring his mouth down against yours, and you kiss him like that for a few moments, both of you just savoring each other, all the heat of your bodies touching.

It’s the sound of your phone buzzing insistently that breaks the two of you apart. You groan into the kiss as your hand searches over your bed, dipping under the sheets to find your phone.

Mark’s lips leave yours, dipping down to your throat where he leaves tiny, light kisses as you answer. “Hello?”

“We’re about to leave the restaurant. Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Jiah asks on the other end of the line. Mark’s lips dip lower over your collarbone, drifting down your chest. You swallow down a sigh before answering Jiah.

“I’m good.”

There’s silence for a few seconds in which you’re brutally aware of Mark’s lips against your skin. You twist your fingers in his hair, and he grunts quietly then sits up, his hair looking a bit fucked, his gaze a little fuzzy.

She laughs over the line. “Yeah, I’m sure you are. We’ll be back in, like twenty minutes. We were thinking about stopping to grab ice cream....”

Mark sits up, ruffles his hand over his hair. The prop gun tumbles to the floor, and you glare at him as Jiah pauses what she was saying.

“Ice cream sounds good, if you want to grab me some.” You push your foot against Mark’s thigh, trying to push him from your bed. “You said twenty minutes?”

Jiah hums. “Twenty. Plenty of time for you to finish up whatever you’re doing.”

Your heartbeat jumps a little unsteadily when Mark captures your ankle and makes like he’s going to tickle your foot. “Alright, Jiah. See you then. Bye!”

You end the call, punching at the screen until it goes dark. “Mark, you need to leave. I need to disappear every bit of evidence of you before they get back.”

Mark laughs and grins a little. “Yeah, yeah. We’re a secret thing now, aren’t we?”

He stands up and starts redressing.

You reach out and slap a hand against his ass, which makes him jump and yelp a little. “A thing? Are we a thing at all? This is just the second time this has happened.”

Mark bites his lip and rolls his eyes, pulling his pants up around his hips, and he shoves the prop gun back into his pocket. “Okay, whatever you say.”

You grab a hoodie that you have draped over the end of your bed and pull it on as you sit up, pooling your blankets into your lap. “Please, leave.”

Mark leans in quickly, pecking you on the lips. “See you tomorrow. I’ll be on my best behavior.” He starts to walk away toward your bedroom door, his eyes on you, waiting for you to say anything.

“No promises from me about good behavior,” you tell him, letting your own smile pour across your lips. “See you tomorrow, Mark.”

He turns, and just like that he’s gone. A moment later you hear the chime of the door as it opens and closes behind him.

Something definitely feels like it’s changed.

For one thing, your heart races a little, butterflies rising excitedly in your belly as you think ahead to tomorrow, the promise of seeing Mark again.

a/n: I’m pretty sure someone requested a sequel to whiplash a while ago, but I’m sorry I have no idea where that message went. They were probably hoping for another part of YN kinda dominating Mark and using the knife on him, but I saw this video on twitter and just couldn’t get it out of my mind, and writing it into this little pairing just made sense to me. I hope you liked it, if you’ve read all the way to the end. I’m kinda thinking that this might need just one more part, but please let me know what you think!

As usual, likes, comments, reblogs are all appreciated!

#mark smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #mark lee smut

604 notes · View notes

the-space-above-the-stars · 5 years

Text

hard feelings

jung jaehyun x reader

Summary: “My mom asked about you again,” you stalled for a second as he bought up the words, seemingly innocent and nonchalant, before continuing to pour his coffee. “She was asking if you would find her a bother if she called you.”

“Not at all,” Your smile is civil, the carefully carved simply curve of your lips you’ve perfected over months, as you hand him his coffee. “You know I love talking to your mom.”

Your breakup with Jung Jaehyun left a lot of things unsaid and a lot of feelings untouched. But it’s difficult to get over someone when you see hem everyday. Even more so when you live with them.

Warnings: wine

Word Count: 4.3K

Genre: angst, fluff

A/N: I hope you enjoy this, this is the first time I’m writing for Jaehyun, so yeah. My requests are open, and this is unedited, so idk if you should have expectations going in. THERE are some parts of the story that are flashbacks and for some reason the italics aren’t working on mobile so i’ll put flashbacks in brackets.

The floor is cold as you slip out of your bed, walking on tiptoes down the hallway to your kitchen. It’s still dark outside and any reasonable person would still be sleeping, but you had chosen to make this the perfect time to go to work.

Jaehyun, you write on a pink post it note, packaging the freshly made scrambled eggs into tupperware. There’s eggs in the fridge, make sure to eat.

Your relationship with Jung Jaehyun was so strange that even writing a damn note became difficult. What words could you use that wouldn’t walk the line of romantic? How would you make yourself sound platonic for a man you still loved?

So to you, the best way to avoid this is to avoid him. That’s why you leave before the sun comes up and try your best to be out of the house once your classes are over. But it’s not easy. You still see him. Every morning at the coffee shop, when you get home late at night and he’s cooking dinner, when he wakes up earlier than you for practice.

6 months ago, you and Jaehyun broke up. And as a broke college student with lack of better lodging, he decided that it would be best for you both to continue renting out your apartment together. Only it didn’t feel like the shared apartment anymore. The pictures of the both of you that used to line your walls have long since been removed and stored away. You’ve moved into the spare bedroom across the hall, in a bed too big for you to sleep by yourself. Getting ready in the morning takes twice as long when you can’t share a bathroom with a person. You’ve become strangers.

The coffee shop is quiet as you turn the light on, the gentle hum of electricity coming to life reverberating through the walls. It’s 6:34. There’s nothing to do but wait, so you do, brewing a fresh pot and pouring a cup while you pull your book out.

[“What’re you reading?” Jaehyun hums, lofting his head from where it rests on your stomach. You’re both stretched out on the couch, his arms wrapped around you.

“The Alchemist,” you respond, laying the book down and running your fingers through his hair.

“What’s it about?” He leans into your touch, eyes closing again as his dimples show in a smile.

“A shepherd from Spain. His name is Santiago and he meets this man who tells him to go to the pyramids of Giza and find a treasure.”

“Doesn’t that sound like a bit of a scam?” He chuckles, leaning up to kiss your lips.

“It’s an adventure, dummy. Besides, the kid does get scammed, just not by this dude.”

“Can you read it to me? Just from wherever you’re at.”

He lays his head back down as you nod, finding your place again as you start to speak. “The Englishman was unable to sleep one night. He called to the boy, and they took a walk along the dunes surrounding the encampment There was a full moon, and the boy told the Englishman the story of his life...”]

Opening up old memories only invites others back in, and soon you’ve lost focus on the book and are swept into the sea of memories that was your relationship with Jaehyun. Painting your bedroom, moving in, your first date, first anniversary, first kiss, it all comes back.

The first customer walks in at 7:30 on the dot, a secretary who always picks up 4 americanos. When she walks in, you’re already making her drinks, and she gives you a grateful smile as she swipes her credit card. “Have a nice day,” she calls back, her beige heels clacking on the floors as she walks out with a slight sway from balancing her bag and the coffees.

Hana, your friend and the other person on the morning shift walks in at 8:00, just as things are starting to get busy. “He’s not in yet?” She asks, slipping her apron on. Her hair, dyed a ashy blonde, goes up in a bun as she takes your place behind the register, allowing you to mix drinks freely. “I must be early.”

“You say this to me every time, Hana,” you chuckle as you hand two teenagers their hot chocolates. They come to the coffee shop to study before tests, and you sprinkle some extra cinnamon into their drinks just like they like it. “He comes in at 9:00. 8:30 if he has practice, and no, I don’t know if he has practice.” Hana has a vested interest in your relationship with Jaehyun, and you know she’s been hoping for you both to get back together since you broke up.

8:30 rolls around and he hasn’t made an appearance. It starts drizzling outside, and you curse yourself for not bringing your umbrella. It’s a bit of a walk to the subway station, and then from your station, a few blocks to your home. Your jacket is going to have a rough day.

Almost exactly at 9:00, a black car pulls up in the parking lot and Hana chuckles as you subconsciously fix your hair, earning her a flick on the arm. Busying yourself with the latte art a fellow tired college student ordered, you force yourself not to look up. But of course, as the bell rings, you still do.

Jung Jaehyun, even slightly rained on, looks like he walked out of a designer runway. His hair’s swept back and speckled with rain drops, his signature dimples poking out as he holds the door open for the two girls with hot chocolates as they leave. You hand the customer their latte, the smile that crosses their face when they see the design adorning it giving you a small piece of solace.

“Hey,” he says, smiling at you as he sits down at the counter, in the same seat as always. He’s wearing the hoodie you used to always steal from him. It’s blue, with two stripes, red and white, on each sleeve. It’s gone back to smelling like his cologne.

“Hey. Same as usual?” He doesn’t even need to nod before you grab a cup and the coffee pot, making his regular. Jung Jaehyun, ever the creature of habit, orders the same black coffee and warmed up croissant for the 12 months he’s come to the cafe.

“My mom asked about you again,” you stalled for a second as he bought up the words, seemingly innocent and nonchalant, before continuing to pour his coffee. “She was asking if you would find her a bother if she called you.”

“Not at all,” Your smile is civil, the carefully carved simply curve of your lips you’ve perfected over months, as you hand him his coffee. “You know I love talking to your mom.” A silence falls over you both as you grab a croissant and turn around to the oven, neither of you knowing how to continue this conversation. “Uh, so how’s practice going? Taeyong mentioned you guys are performing at MAMA?”

He coughs, using the sleeve of his hoodie to dry his hair. “Yeah, it’s going good. It’s a bit difficult cause they’re trying to get all the units to perform, and then they want us to perform together. But hey, that’s what we get for the never ending members concept.”

“Yeah, I guess so” you laugh and you’re both thinking about the same thing.

[“Okay, okay, okay, wait, explain this to me one more time.” You’re currently sitting on Jaehyun’s lap, arms thrown lazily around his neck as he attempts to explain NCT.

“Okay, so NCT means Neo Culture Technology, and basically we have an unlimited number of members.” You nod, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “NCT U stands for United, which means that the members change based on the concept. NCT 127 is the fixed group, and it’s based in Seoul because Seoul is where K-pop started. NCT Dream is with all the underage members, and they stay in Dream until they become adults.”

“And then they graduate to NCT U? Or NCT 127?”

“Or WayV,” he nods, smiling as he kisses your neck. “See, that wasn’t so hard. I didn’t even need to get Doyoung’s chart.” You both dissolve into a mess of laughter, and Jaehyun leans up to press more kisses up your neck, your jawline, and eventually meeting your lips. ]

“Um, here’s your croissant, and your drink. That’s $4.55, you can swipe your card.” He nods with a sip of his drink and takes the bag with the pastry before swiping his card. “Okay, you’re good. Uh, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you at home.Oh, thanks for the eggs.” He waves one more time and you pretend to go back to work as his car pulls out. Home.

“You have it baddd,” Hana says singsongedly, earning another flick.

***

It hasn’t stopped raining all day. What was drizzling became a steady downpour that’s lasted the entirety of your shift. Groaning as you slip on your jacket, you wave bye to Hana. She offered a ride, but you’re aware her house is in the complete opposite direction and that would just waste her time.

The store awnings provide some cover as you walk down the street, your jacket getting slightly drenched as you walk rapidly through the gaps between them. You haven’t made it too far down the street when you stop, surprise turning you into a statue. Jaehyun’s walking towards you, umbrella in hand. “What are you doing out here?” You ask, trying to hide your shivering.

“I went home and saw you left your umbrella there. You think I was gonna let you walk home in this rain?” You can’t stumble out a response before he grabs your hand. “Come on, my car’s just around the corner.”

It’s so quiet the walk to the car and all you can think about is that he’s still holding your hand. “I could have gone home with Hana, you didn’t have to drive out here.”

“Hana lives on the other side of town, I knew you weren’t going to bother her for it. And it’s not a bother, really. I was done with everything anyway.” He opens your door before crossing to the other side and getting in. There’s towels laid across both seats and he pulls another from the backseat. “Dry yourself off, you’ll get sick if you stay like that.”

“The subway station really wasn’t that far,” you mutter as you pat your hair dry. “I could have walked fine.”

“Just- just let me do something nice for you, hm? To repay you for the eggs, let’s see it as that.”

“It wasn’t a favor this morning. I just had extra eggs.”

“Okay, then let me do nice things because I feel like it, okay?” But it isn’t your job to do nice things for me anymore, you want to say but you don’t, biting your lip instead and looking out the window. You’re both quiet until you hit a red light and Jaehyun’s phone lights up. Incoming call from Eun-i. His hands tighten around the wheel as he picks up, you pretending not to pay attention. “Hi. Oh yeah, sure. Yeah, I’ll see you there. Okay. No, that’s fine. Great. Okay, see you later.”

“Who’s that?” You ask, trying to sound casual. Isn’t being okay with him seeing other girls a good step in moving on? Then why is there such a weird feeling in your stomach?

“Uh, some girl Johnny knows, he’s been bugging me to go out with her, says she won’t get off his back about it. You’re not upset, are you?”

“No, of course not, Jaehyun. Why would I be upset?” Maybe something in your tone is off because he just sighs.

“I don’t know, Y/N. We don’t really get the time to talk, since you’ve been leaving so early and coming back so late at night just to avoid me.”

“I have to open the shop early,” you deflect, heart beating as you still avoid his eyes. “And my study group ends late.”

“Bull.” Months of pent up feelings are coming out as the light turns green. “You leave on weekends, holidays, days when I know you don’t have class and when you don’t have shifts at the cafe.”

“I- I don’t know, what do you want me to say? I’m scared I’m going to say something or you’re going to say something that brings the both of us 6 months back and we only feel more awkward around each other and I just-” not knowing what to say, you stop, resting your head in your palms. “I just want to go back to being friends.”

“I don’t know how we can with both of us scared of taking the next step.” The car pulls into the parking lot in front of the apartment and Jaehyun unlocks the doors. “Y/N-” but you’re already out of the car, fumbling for the keypad as you punch the code in.

Still sitting in the seat, Jaehyun sighs and rests his head on the wheel.

***

It’s late. The ticking hands on the clock are nearing midnight, and instead of being in bed, you’re curled up on the couch with a glass of red wine. Jaehyun left a few hours back for his date and the nerves after your fight and the small pit in your stomach had made it impossible for you to sleep. Hopefully the wine would make you drowsy.

How did things get so fucked up? Tracing your finger along the rim of your glass, a tear crawls down your cheek in your drunken state. You both used to love each other, you used to be able to talk about anything and everything.

[“Do you ever wonder why we respect the dead more than the living?” You raise your eyebrow, trying not to laugh as Jaehyun, drunk off his ass, continues to talk. “No like, really, if I died today, wouldn’t people start thinking nicer things about me? Like Mark wouldn’t bitch about that time I ate his sandwich, he’d be like “Man, Jaehyun was, like, so cool, R.I.P.”

“I’m sorry, did you just do an impression of Mark mourning your death, and he said R.I.P.?” He just shrugs and you can’t stop the laughter, getting up to grab the glass of water on the nightstand. Jaehyun, however, has other ideas.

“Nooooo, where are you going?” Grabbing your arm, he pulls you onto the mattress and wraps his arms around you.

“I’m just grabbing you water, dummy, you’re head’s gonna hurt from all that drinking.”

“How are you so smart?” He awes, eyes wide as they follow your movements. You just laugh, the sound reverberating off the walls of your bedroom as he drinks the water and pulls you back down. ]

Your relationship was so- full. That’s the only way you can describe what you felt with him. Complete, whole, your heart brimming with love for this man who held your entire heart in his hand.

From the couch, you can hear the front door open and wipe your tear quickly, taking another sip of your wine. “You’re home early,” you try to be casual as Jaehyun walks in, slipping his shoes off and taking off his coat.

“Yeah. Date was a disaster, I’m going to kill Johnny- is that wine?”

You smile as you grab the bottle and pour yourself another glass. “There’s glasses in the cabinets.”

*** Many many many glasses of wine that were definitely over the recommended amount later, you and Jaehyun are both tipsy as all hell. “Re-remember that time you fell into Mark’s pool?” He stumbles out, cheeks flushed red from laughter. You nod, equally flushed as drunk tears pooled in your eyes from the heavy laughter the last anecdote he bought up had caused. “Well-well it wasn’t really an accident, Doyoung made a bet with Yuta that he could kick the cap off a water bottle, but he missed, fell back, and accidentally pushed you in.”

“Motherfucker, I’m gonna kill him!” Laughter strikes you both again, followed by a semi-awkward silence. “I’m- I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you, Jaehyun,” you hiccuped, downing the rest of your wine. “I just- figured it’d be easier for the both of us.”

“No, it’s okay, I get why.” He follows suit in finishing off his wine. “Our situation isn’t necessarily ideal.”

“You can say that again,” you top of both of your glasses and clink them together, taking a heavy sip of your own. “I just realized, we haven’t talked this much since- since..”

“Since- since we broke up,” Jaehyun finishes for you, brushing his hair back as his words slur. You just nod, averting your eyes at the mention. “I never apologized for that.”

“For not talking?”

“No, for the breakup. I was always too busy, and I didn’t know how to manage my time and I just shoved you to the side-”

“Shut up, Jaehyun. You can’t cast all the blame on yourself, we both did things- said things we’re not that proud of.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” You nod and he leans in, as if to whisper it into your ear. “I love you, Y/N.” And suddenly, the safe space of your couch and your wine glasses becomes surprisingly hostile as the red lights begin to flash. Jaehyun still loves you, and you’re oh so drink to say something reasonable.

“I love you too, Jae,” you confess out loud, your fast-beating heart skipping a beat as Jaehyun leans forward, an arm wrapping around your waist. “Jae-”

“Just let me make up for lost time.” His lips connect to yours as he pulls you onto his lap, hands bunching up the material of your t-shirt as he plants his hands on your back. Your fingers thread through his hair as you pull him closer, moaning as he tugs on your bottom lip. “Can we- can we go to our room?”

Our room. A room the two of you haven’t shared in months. A brief thought passes through your subconscious that you’re going to regret something in the morning, but still, you nod.

***

You know what you’re going to regret as you wake up in your old shared bedroom, Jaehyun’s arms wrapped around your bare waist and a splitting headache thumping against your head. You can feel his shallow breaths, warm, against your shoulder as his head rests in the crook of your neck and his bare chest against your back.

You slept with an ex. Not just any ex, Jung Jaehyun, the boy who you were sure you would love for your whole life and the boy who broke your heart and whose heart you broke yourself.

How can you two even look at each other now, knowing that those old feelings are still there? How can you live under the same roof as Jaehyun knowing that he, too, wants to be more than exes, more than acquaintances, roommates, friends, again?

You rest your hands on his and slowly undrape them from around you, slipping out of bed. He wrinkles his nose at the loss of warmth, bundling the blankets over his body in his sleep.

[“Nooo,” Jaehyun whines as you try to slip out of bed. “Stay, call in sick or something.”

“You big baby.” you chuckle, sitting up and throwing your legs over the side of the bed. Jaehyun comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you as you throw on a shirt. “It’s almost Christmas, and I’d like to prove to my manager that I should get a holiday bonus.”

“Come on,” he moans again, pressing open kisses to the back of your neck. “Stay a bit late, I’ll make you breakfast? Give you a ride to work? Be your first customer?”

You laugh, semi-dressed and roll back over on bed to straddle his lap, cupping his cheeks. “Get ready with me now, then, and you can get all of those things.”

“Princess, it’s hard to cuddle someone when you’re driving.”

“You wound me, Mr. Jung, am I only here for cuddles?”

“Practically-oof.” You throw a pillow at him, laughing as he falls back. “Okay, now you’re going to get it.” ]

That’s how things used to be, you chastise yourself, grabbing your clothes and sneaking out to your bedroom to get dressed.

Jaehyun, the note today reads. Hana needs help opening up today. I’ll see you later. Sausages and eggs in the fridge.

***

“NO,” Hana whisper-yells as you finish your story. “Damn, I knew you two would hook up again one day, but damn, that’s a lot to take in.”

The overhead lights of the cafe make you wince and rub your temples, wondering when the painkillers you hurriedly took in the morning will kick in. “I shouldn’t have gotten drunk, I shouldn’t have let him get drunk, I shouldn’t have said I love you back-”

“Woah woah woah woah woah woah woah,” Hana claps a hand over your mouth, disbelief etched in her eyes. “You and Jaehyun are literally the best couple, do you know how sad we all were when you broke up? You guys made each other so happy, and y’all have been miserable the past months, so what’s the hesitation now?”

“If we could break each other’s hearts 6 months ago, what’s stopping us this time?” Hana opened her mouth, then closed it. “I- I’m trying to keep Jaehyun in my life, no matter how platonic that has to be. If we try again and we end up like this or worse? I don’t know-”

The door opens with the ring of the bell and Jaehyun walks in, keeping his sunglasses on as he too avoids the gaze of the lights and sits at the counter. Your heart thuds as you grab a cup and the coffee pot. “Morning,” you try to greet, pouring his cup. “You left again this morning,” he leaves no room for pleasantries, taking the glasses off.

“I had to open the shop early, did you read my note?”

“Stop giving me that shit, Y/N, we should have talked about last night,”

“It was a mistake, I know Jaehyun, can we just move on?”

“Mistake?” He winces as he looks you in the eye. “What the fuck, Y/N, it wasn’t a mistake to me, I-”

“We were drunk and reminiscing, it shouldn’t have happened.”

“No, I’m glad it did. You told me you loved me. I don’t know about you, but when I said it, I was telling the truth.” Your lips are pursed as you say nothing, and he scoffs, reaching for your wrist. “Come outside with me,” with no time to argue, he pulls you outside the shop. “What’s the problem? Are we just going back to you avoiding me again?”

“No,” you shake your head, looking at your feet. “I’m gonna look for a place.”

“What?” Your response catches him off guard. “Why?”

“Because- because I can’t live with you without wanting things to be more than what they are now. Without wanting them to be like they used to be.”

“Then let them be like they used to be,” he pleads, taking your hand. “I love you, Y/N. Breaking up with you has been one of my biggest regrets, and if you want things to be like they used to be, let’s be together again.”

“No, Jaehyun, it’s-” you try to calm your breathing, running your hands down the front of your apron. “Before we broke up, I was so in love and naive, I thought that we would be together forever, I trusted myself implicitly with your heart, and vice verse, but Jae- our breakup? It wasn’t good, it was messy and we both fucked up with each other, so knowing that we have the capability to break each other’s hearts? It makes me terrified of trying this again.”

“You can’t know exactly what’s going to happen, Y/N,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes. “But you have to remember we’d be going into this knowing all the mistakes we made the last time. You can’t be sure with love, but all we can really do is try our best to make things work.”

“I- oh god, what if it goes worse this time?”

“It won’t. I know you, you won’t let it get that bad, and speaking for myself, I’ll do anything I can to avoid that.” His fingers lace through yours, squeezing your hand. “Be mine again. Stop leaving so early in the morning, come back to our room, just- stop trying to get away from me, because I’m not letting go.”

Your silence seems disheartening, and he turns around to go back inside. But it isn’t until he grabs the door handle that he stumbles slightly, from the force of your hug as you wrap your arms around him from behind. “Okay,” your voice is shaky as you nod, head buried in his back. “Let’s try this again.”

And he’s whirling around to pick you up in a bone crushing hug, tears building up in the corners of both of your eyes as he spins you around, setting you back down to kiss you. And the kiss, and his hands cupping your face and the way his lips are forming a smile against yours, it fills you with a sort of warmth, a sense of safety that you haven’t felt for 6 months.

The way you feel toward Jung Jaehyun will never go away. He’ll always be yours, there will always be a space in your heart reserved for him no matter how complicated things are or the hard feelings you both share.

Inside the store, Hana shoots you a wink, making a shooing motion to tell you to take the rest of the day off. Lacing your fingers through Jaehyun’s, you pull him down the street, just as you both used to do, running around Seoul together with the simple comfort of each other.

#nct #nct u #nct jaehyun #jung yoonoh #jung jaehyun #jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #fanfiction #nct fanfiction #reader insert #jung jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fanfiction #nct jaehyun x reader #jung yoonoh x reader #y/n #x reader #nct jung jaehyun x reader

234 notes · View notes