Work Text:
It starts with a blazer.
Not metaphorically. A real, physical blazer. Midnight blue, slim-cut, silk lining - a work of art until Jaemin opens his mouth.
"Did you mean for the shoulders to scream 2003 prom night?"
Jeno doesn't look up from the fitting table. "I meant for it to fit a body with posture. Stand up straight, maybe it'll look better."
Jaemin grins, like someone who knows he's about to be trouble. He does that often. Uses his mouth as a weapon and a promise.
“I expected more from the tailor everyone’s always whining about”
Jeno doesn’t even blink. “I knew you had no taste since your last campaign…stealing ideas from Pinterest?”
They’re in Johnny’s new atelier — a dreamy, industrial loft turned collaborative fashion space. Johnny doesn’t do drama, but he’s also the one who introduced them, which makes this his fault entirely. Since working together, Jeno has become Johnny’s golden boy, and has given him the tools to launch his own brand. And leave it to him to be the only person who thought putting dynamite and a lighter in the same space was a good idea.
Across the room, Donghyuck - one of Johnny’s business partner - watches with barely disguised delight “Are you two flirting or fighting?”
Jeno answers first “Neither”
Jaemin answers louder “Both”
Later, when some guests have started to retire, and the playlist has slipped into lazy late-night R&B, Jaemin corners Jeno near the cutting table, now cluttered with champagne glasses and spools of thread.
“You always this uptight?” he asks, stepping into Jeno’s space without shame.
Jeno leans back against the table but doesn’t retreat. “You always this annoying?”
“I’m told it grows on people” Jaemin’s voice is velvet now. “Like mold”
Their eyes meet. Something electric hums under the silence.
Jeno tilts his head. “Are you trying to get under my skin?”
“Is that a challenge?”
Jaemin moves closer, but it’s not aggressive - it’s intimate. His fingers brush against Jeno’s wrist like a question. Jeno’s jaw tenses, like he’s trying to stop his body from answering it.
“You don’t like me” Jaemin whispers.
“No” Jeno agrees.
“You don’t even want to like me”
“I really don’t”
Jaemin smiles - soft, cocky, and impossibly pretty. “Then why haven’t you moved?”
Behind them, Johnny appears and loudly clinks a glass. “Okay! Let’s cut the tension, not each other”
Hyuck mutters to Mark “They’re either going to sleep together or set the building on fire.”
Mark chokes on his drink. “Or both”
Later, Jaemin leaves the party with Jeno’s jacket over his shoulders and a text on his phone:
[Jeno 12.15 am]
Bring it back by Monday.
Don’t ruin it. Or do.
Just don’t spill anything that stains.
Jaemin doesn’t reply. But he presses his nose to the collar, inhales leather and heat and something chemical, and smiles.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It’s three days later when Jaemin shows up at Jeno’s studio. He doesn’t knock. Doesn’t announce himself.
Just walks in like he owns the place - because that’s who he is. A storm in designer boots, eyes sharp and sweet, like candied venom.
Jeno’s bent over his cutting table, marking lines with chalk on navy wool. Wearing a sleeveless top that might as well be body armor, arms tight with focus, jaw clenched. There’s a pencil tucked behind one ear and fabric dust on his shoulder. It’s unfair how attractive precision looks on him.
Jaemin drops the jacket onto a nearby stool with dramatic flair. “Your precious blazer, unharmed”
Jeno doesn’t even look up. “You’re two days early. Miss me?”
Jaemin shrugs out of his coat, revealing skin and a sheer sleeveless top with absolutely nothing underneath.
“I want it fitted properly” he says casually. “The shoulders are tragic”
Now Jeno looks up. And looks. And looks.
“You’re kidding”
Jaemin raises both arms and turns in place. “Fix it. Or admit you can’t”
Jeno’s already walking over, grabbing his measuring tape like a weapon. “Shut up and hold still”
The air changes.
Jeno steps in close. Slides the tape along Jaemin’s back, around his chest, fingers grazing skin on purpose, or maybe not. Breath catching in quiet, subtle sync.
“You’re warm” Jaemin says, too low.
Jeno ignores it. Moves behind him. Measures the shoulder line with maddening care.
“You’re tense” Jaemin adds, a grin in his voice.
“Stop talking”
Jaemin shifts - just enough for his shoulder to press into Jeno’s chest.
“You gonna pin me?” he murmurs. “Make me hold still?”
Jeno doesn’t answer, but his jaw tightens. One hand finds Jaemin’s waist to stabilize him. Fingers curl, linger.
Jaemin turns his head, face now inches from Jeno’s. Breath against breath. Static rising.
“You ever been measured like this?” Jaemin asks, cocky-soft. “Up close? Hands all over you?”
Jeno exhales like a threat. Then his hand slips - or doesn’t slip - over Jaemin’s stomach, too low to be innocent.
Jaemin stiffens. Not in protest. In anticipation.
It’s a mistake. It’s deliberate.
It’s both.
“You want me to stop?” Jeno asks, voice low enough to break bones.
Jaemin doesn’t answer. He just leans back into him - hips flush, spine arching ever so slightly.
The tape measure drops to the floor. Jeno’s hands don’t.
Jaemin’s shirt rides up and Jeno’s mouth ends up on his neck. Jaemin’s hands end up on Jeno’s belt. Someone breathes a name too softly and someone else groans in frustration, like they’re fighting instinct and losing.
A spool of thread rolls off the table and hits the floor like a gunshot. It’s enough to snap the spell.
Jeno pulls back.
Jaemin looks ruined. Flushed. Dazed. Jeno breathes like he’s been sprinting.
“You’re a fucking problem” he mutters.
Jaemin licks his lips. “So solve me”
Jeno bends to grab the measuring tape, hands shaking.
“Come back tomorrow” he says without looking at him. “Wear something easy to take off”
Jaemin’s laugh is smoke and glitter. “You sure you don’t want me to just show up naked?”
Jeno shoots him a glare that could strip paint.
“Jaemin”
“Fine” Jaemin grins. “But you better mark me with something. Chalk. Pins. Teeth. I’m not picky.”
Outside, Jaemin texts Johnny:
He’s either going to kill me or fuck me senseless. Possibly both
I’ll keep you posted
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Jaemin doesn’t knock the next day either.
He pushes open the studio door with the casual confidence of someone who knows exactly how much he’s wanted - and how much chaos he’s bringing with him. There’s a glint in his eye, a half-buttoned white shirt hanging off one shoulder, and pants so obscenely well-fitted they might’ve been painted on.
He doesn't say hi. Doesn’t need to.
Jeno looks up from the sewing machine, mouth a tight line, and immediately stands. His shirt today is charcoal, unbuttoned at the throat, sleeves rolled, frustration in every motion like he’s been waiting for this moment and dreading it equally.
"You’re late"
Jaemin shrugs out of the shirt and tosses it onto a stool. “I gave you time to calm down”
“I am calm” Jeno mutters.
Jaemin grins. “Good”
They don’t talk much while Jeno fits the jacket. Something heavy simmers between them - not tension anymore, but expectation. Like a thread pulled too tight.
Jeno adjusts the hem, fingers brushing Jaemin’s hip. Jaemin doesn't move, just watches him in the mirror, eyes dark with mischief and want.
“You always this careful?” he asks. “Feels like you’re scared to touch me”
Jeno’s grip tightens.
“I’m trying not to fuck up the stitch line”
“Liar”
Jeno straightens, hands falling to Jaemin’s waist again. Not gentle. Not professional.
“This is a mistake” he says.
“You already made it” Jaemin replies.
Jeno moves first this time.
No warning, no hesitation. His mouth crushes Jaemin’s like he’s starving for it. Teeth, tongue, heat - nothing sweet, everything sharp. Jaemin groans into it, shoving him back against the nearest table hard enough to scatter pins.
They kiss like they’ve done it before in another life and are making up for lost time. Jaemin climbs into his lap without breaking rhythm, legs around Jeno’s waist, grinding down like it’s been a long time coming - and it has.
Shirt buttons fly. Fabric tears. Jeno curses when Jaemin pulls his hair, and Jaemin laughs, breathless, high on the tension finally snapping.
Jeno grabs his thigh. “You’re impossible”
Jaemin nips at his lip. “You love it”
“Shut up”
“Make me”
So Jeno does.
Later, they lie on the table, tangled in ruined clothes and measuring tape, the room still hot with leftover need and bad decisions. Jaemin’s lips are red. There’s a scratch on Jeno’s shoulder that looks deliberate.
Jaemin rolls onto his side, propped on one elbow. “So... is this where we pretend it meant nothing?”
Jeno doesn’t look at him. Just stares at the ceiling.
“We’re not doing this again”
Jaemin smirks. “Sure”
They both know they’re lying.
Later, across town, Johnny reads Jaemin’s latest text and sighs.
[Jaemin 10.15 pm]
I fucked the tailor. The blazer fits now
Also my knees hurt
He shows his phone to Doyoung, who groans into his coffee. As if working late wasn’t already a disaster.
“Oh God,” Doyoung mutters. “They’re gonna break each other”
Johnny nods. “Wanna take bets on who catches feelings first?”
“Definitely Jeno”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The gallery is pretentious, and Jeno hates every second of it.
White walls. Tiny plates of food that taste like nothing. Some installation involving broken mannequins and whispering audio in French. It’s all too loud, too curated - and yet Jaemin belongs there like he’s art himself.
Of course he does.
He’s in a deep red shirt, tucked half in, half out. Collar open. Neckline criminal. Hair perfect. Smile devastating. People orbit him like moths to a bonfire, burning happily.
Jeno stands at the back, black-on-black, sipping a drink he didn’t ask for. Johnny invited him. Johnny warned him Jaemin would be here. And Jeno came anyway.
He tells himself he’s just networking. He tells himself he doesn’t care.
Until it happens.
A tall guy - model? influencer? dickhead? - leans in too close to Jaemin, palm resting lightly on his lower back. Jaemin laughs, tips his head. Lets the guy say something right against his ear.
Jeno’s teeth grind so hard it makes his temples ache.
Doyoung appears beside him like a ghost. “Don’t” he says calmly.
Jeno doesn’t respond.
“I’m serious” Doyoung adds. “Your eye is twitching”
Jeno downs the rest of his drink in one gulp. “I’m fine”
“You look like you’re about to stab him with a fork”
Jeno sets the glass down harder than necessary and walks away.
Jaemin sees him coming.
Of course he does. He always does. But he doesn’t move - doesn’t warn the guy, doesn’t step away, doesn’t shift.
Instead, he smirks. Like he wants to see what happens.
Jeno steps between them without a word.
No hi, no excuse me - just puts his hand on Jaemin’s waist, possessive and unmistakable. The guy blinks.
Jaemin raises a brow. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you”
“Neither does flirting with morons” Jeno mutters.
“You’re so rude”
“Why are you here?”
Jaemin leans in, whispering against Jeno’s jaw. “I like the lighting. It makes your control issues glow”
Jeno tightens his grip.
Jaemin lets him.
Ten minutes later, they're in the private office down the hall, door locked, lights off, mouths locked in something halfway between hate and heat.
Jaemin’s back hits the desk.
Jeno’s hands are on his hips, then under his shirt, then everywhere. They kiss like they didn’t just fuck a few days ago. Like they’ve been starving ever since.
“You looked like you wanted to kill him” Jaemin pants, lips swollen.
“I did”
“That’s hot”
“You’re insane”
Jaemin bites his shoulder. “You’re mine”
It slips out. Neither of them addresses it. But they both feel it, sizzling in the air between them.
When they stumble out fifteen minutes later - slightly flushed, slightly disheveled. Mark is waiting in the hallway holding a shrimp skewer.
He takes one look at them and sighs. “You guys know there’s security cameras, right?”
Jaemin adjusts his collar. “Let them watch. Jeno looked really good from that angle”
Jeno groans. Mark pops the shrimp in his mouth.
“So… is this a thing now or just mutually assured destruction?”
“Bit of both” Jaemin says, already walking away.
Jeno watches him go.
Doesn’t stop him. Doesn’t follow.
Just feels the echo of the words Jaemin whispered on that desk: You’re mine.
And for the first time in forever… he’s scared it might be true.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
This time, it’s at Jungwoo’s restaurant, where everyone’s allegedly gathering to eat food and be normal, which - let’s be honest - has never been true of this group. Luckily for the rest of the patrons, they have a private room reserved.
Jaemin walks in wearing jeans that should be illegal and a shirt that looks like it belongs on a yacht somewhere. His hair’s tousled. His smile is dangerous.
Jeno’s already on the couch with Doyoung, arguing over which pasta sauce is superior. He stops mid-sentence when he sees Jaemin.
Doyoung doesn’t miss it.
“Great” he mutters. “The tension is back”
“What tension?” Jeno says too quickly.
Jaemin drops onto the couch like he owns it. Like he owns the entire damn place. He leans forward, reaching across Jeno for a glass of wine, all casual, as if his shoulder isn’t brushing Jeno’s arm the entire time.
“Miss me?” he asks without looking.
Jeno scoffs. “Didn’t notice you were gone”
“Sure” Jaemin sings and takes a sip of wine that definitely isn’t his.
Dinner is loud. Mark spills something. Jaemin and Jeno sit across from each other like opposing forces at a UN summit. Doyoung watches it all like he’s collecting data for a future intervention.
“So” Johnny says halfway through dessert, eyeing Jaemin. “You two still… not a thing?”
Jeno nearly chokes on his fork.
“We’re not a thing” Jaemin answers smoothly, licking frosting off his thumb in a way that makes Jeno blink twice.
Mark snorts. “You’re at every party together”
“We have mutual friends” Jaemin replies innocently.
“And mutual hickeys?” Hyuck deadpans.
“Coincidence” Jeno says, but he’s grinning now.
Jaemin leans back, arms crossed. “Look, if he wanted to lock it down, he knows what to do”
Jeno raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Jaemin shrugs. “You know. Ring. Doves. Flash mob. Minimal effort.”
“Minimal?”
“I’m reasonable”
The table loses it.
Jungwoo wipes a tear. “You guys are a disaster. But like… a sexy disaster”
Jeno takes a long sip of water. “We’re just having fun”
Jaemin shoots him a look, lazy and hot. “And you’re welcome for that, by the way”
Later, as coats are being collected and put on, Jeno corners Jaemin by the door.
“You enjoy making me squirm”
Jaemin grins, wicked. “Is that what that was? I thought you liked the attention”
“I don’t like you flirting with the waiter”
“Then maybe next time” Jaemin murmurs, brushing past him, “be the one giving me a reason not to”
Jeno watches him go, pulse kicking.
Yeah. Not a thing…but definitely a thing.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The rooftop party is technically for Yuta’s new store launch, but you wouldn’t know it by looking.
There’s champagne. Neon lights. A live DJ who looks like he hasn’t blinked in three hours. Someone’s dog is wearing sunglasses. No one’s being normal.
Jaemin shows up fashionably late, of course. He walks in wearing the shirt - the sheer one with buttons that exist solely for legal reasons. It’s open just enough to be inappropriate in daylight, but perfect for rooftop chaos after sunset.
People stare. Obviously.
Jeno, already leaning against the bar with a drink in hand, sees him and immediately looks away.
Jaemin smirks.
Game on.
They don’t talk right away. That’s how it always starts.
Jaemin makes his way around the party, sipping something pink and expensive, laughing too loudly at someone’s jokes, touching their arm too much - because he knows Jeno is watching.
And Jeno? He’s fine.
Totally fine.
Chatting with a tall, sun-kissed stranger in linen pants who touches his shoulder every time she laughs. She compliments his jawline. Asks if he’s in a band. Says he has “designer hands”
Jaemin hears the whole thing. Doesn’t flinch. Just walks over casually, trailing fingers across Jeno’s back as he passes by.
“Cute shirt” he says. “Does she come in other flavors?”
Jeno almost spits his drink.
The girl blinks. “Sorry?”
“Nothing.” Jaemin waves it off. “Inside joke, you had to be there. Which you weren’t”
Then he disappears into the crowd like a magician in mesh.
Ten minutes later, Jeno finds him by the railing.
He’s alone now, nursing his drink and watching the skyline. His shirt catches the breeze. His profile is annoying in a movie poster kind of way.
“You’re ridiculous” Jeno mutters, sliding in beside him.
Jaemin doesn’t look over. “If I’m ridiculous, why are you following me?”
“You were jealous.”
“Me? Jealous?” He takes a sip, smile twitching. “Of some linen-wearing Spotify ad with no eyebrows? Please”
“You practically hissed at her”
“I was being friendly”
“You were threatening to eat her alive”
“I was hungry.”
They look at each other. A beat of silence.
Then grinning.
It’s always like this. Tease. Deflect. Burn a little hotter every time.
They’re standing too close again, like magnets too lazy to fight the pull. Jaemin leans just enough for his arm to brush Jeno’s.
Jeno doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans in, low voice against Jaemin’s ear. “You are the best thing at this party”
Jaemin hums, unaffected. “I know”
“But I might let someone else take me home. Just to test you”
Jaemin turns slowly, eyes sharp.
“Oh yeah?”
“Might even let her sit on my lap”
“You wouldn’t dare”
“Wouldn’t I?”
Jaemin sets his drink down. “Say that again and I’ll give her directions to your weak spot”
Jeno smirks. “Which one?”
Jaemin doesn’t answer. He just grabs Jeno’s wrist and drags him into the shadows behind a decorative potted plant the size of a motorcycle.
There’s no one around. Just warm air, a string of fairy lights, and the sound of the city below.
Jaemin pushes Jeno back against the wall and kisses him like they’ve already done this a hundred times - because they have, just not here.
“Still wanna go home with someone else?” he breathes against Jeno’s jaw.
Jeno’s voice is a low groan. “Only if you drive”
Jaemin slides a hand under his shirt. “I always drive”
Minutes later, they reemerge into the party looking slightly flushed and too proud of themselves.
Mark stares at them from across the rooftop. “Did you guys just make out behind a ficus?”
Jaemin fixes his collar. “Define just”
Doyoung sighs into his drink. “I hope you both get caught by your future in-laws”
Johnny yells from the DJ booth: “IF YOU’RE NOT DATING, STOP ACTING LIKE YOU ARE!”
Jaemin winks. “Then someone put a ring on it already”
Jeno snorts.
And maybe - just maybe - holds his hand a little longer than necessary as they walk past.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Jeno’s half-asleep when his phone pings.
[Yuta 8.45 am]
Need you at the wedding. Plus one mandatory
No excuses
Jeno blinks at the message.
[Jeno 8.47 am]
What wedding?? And why TF mandatory?
Yuta responds with a picture of the invitation.
[Yuta 8.48 am]
A Very Real Wedding. Tomorrow. Cocktail attire. Open bar.
I told them you and Jaemin are coming
So….show up hot. or else.
It’s chaos. Because Jeno doesn’t remember agreeing to any of this.
And Jaemin? Jaemin thinks it’s hilarious.
“I’m your plus one now?” he says over coffee, legs folded underneath him on Jeno’s couch. “Did we get fake-married while drunk again?”
Jeno groans. “We weren’t even drunk the first time”
“Exactly. You have no excuse”
Jeno points at him. “You’re going to behave at this thing”
Jaemin sips his coffee. “Define behave”
“Don’t flirt with strangers. Don’t say we’re engaged. Don’t…”
“Oh,” Jaemin interrupts, smiling devilishly. “You’re jealous”
“I’m trying to avoid confusion”
“I’m trying to look hot and get free champagne. So we both have goals”
They show up matching. Not on purpose - allegedly.
But Jeno’s in a black suit with a dark green shirt, and Jaemin walks in wearing a perfectly tailored green blazer that should be illegal at family-friendly events.
People stare. And whisper. And make assumptions.
All of which Jaemin leans into with alarming skill.
“Oh, you must be Jeno’s boyfriend” an aunt says five minutes into the cocktail hour.
Jaemin doesn’t miss a beat. “I try”
Jeno chokes on his champagne.
At dinner, they’re seated between Yuta and Johnny.
“Love the vibe” Johnny says, sipping his wine. “Finally gave in, huh?”
Jeno opens his mouth.
Jaemin cuts in. “We’re taking it slow. Emotionally. Physically we’re already codependent”
Johnny just raises a brow. “Shocking”
Yuta leans over, whispering to Jeno. “Did he say “we”? Are you guys... we?”
Jeno doesn’t answer. But he does put his hand on Jaemin’s thigh under the table. Which, frankly, doesn’t help.
And then there’s the dance floor.
Jaemin drags Jeno into the chaos right as the DJ starts playing something with way too much bass and not enough boundaries.
They don’t just dance.
They flirt with their eyes. They press a little too close. Jaemin whispers something in Jeno’s ear that makes him groan and pull him tighter by the waist.
“You’re trying to kill me” Jeno mutters.
“Correction” Jaemin purrs. “I’m trying to make you feel alive”
Then it happens. The bouquet toss.
They’re not even in line for it - just standing off to the side, sipping stolen champagne and trying not to get glitter in their mouths.
The bouquet flies high. Swerves sideways.
And hits Jaemin directly in the face.
The crowd screams. Jaemin blinks. Catches it on reflex.
Everyone gasps.
Jeno turns so slowly, already wincing.
Jaemin holds the bouquet up with one eyebrow raised and says “Well. Guess you’ve got work to do”
Jeno stares at him.
“You’re never going to let this go, are you?”
Jaemin’s grin is criminal. “Not until I get a custom-made ring and a private yacht”
Mark, from across the room, shouts “I KNEW IT!”
Back at home that night, Jaemin tosses the bouquet onto the kitchen counter like it’s a grocery receipt.
Jeno pulls off his tie, eyeing him. “You enjoyed that way too much”
“You enjoyed me in a suit way too much”
“That’s different. That was suffering”
Jaemin hums. “I think you like being fake-dates with me”
“Only because you’re hot”
“Only?” Jaemin steps closer.
Jeno falters. “Okay. Not only”
Jaemin kisses him. Slow. Deep. Ridiculous.
Then pulls back and smirks. “So... when’s our next wedding?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A few days later, Jeno invites Jaemin to dinner. Straightforward, no friends, no we just met by chance somewhere. Jaemin of course, has something to say about it.
“So this is a date-date” he asks, feet up on Jeno’s dashboard, sunglasses sliding down his nose. “Like… with eye contact and food and zero chance of someone’s clothes ending up on the floor?”
“I didn’t promise zero chance” Jeno replies, hands on the wheel, trying not to stare at the expanse of skin above Jaemin’s low-cut tank top. “But yeah. Let’s pretend we’re normal for one night”
“Define normal”
“Eating something that didn’t come out of a takeout box. Not hooking up in a bathroom. Maybe asking each other actual questions”
Jaemin fake-gasps. “Like a job interview? Be still my heart”
Jeno rolls his eyes. “You could at least try to take this seriously”
“Oh, I am. I showered and everything.”
They end up at a cozy little Korean bistro Jeno likes - dim lighting, soft music, not a single mutual friend in sight. For once.
Until halfway through the meal, the hostess seats Mark and Renjun three tables away.
Jaemin clocks them immediately. Jeno looks like he just got stabbed in the thigh with a chopstick.
Mark, oblivious as always, waves enthusiastically and mouths “IS THIS A DATE?”
Jaemin smiles like a cat. Waves back.
Jeno groans into his banchan.
“They’re gonna tell everyone, aren’t they?”
“Oh, absolutely. Group chat’s already on fire”
Jeno leans forward. “Don’t encourage it”
“Too late. I already sent Hyuck a selfie of us with the caption ‘he’s blushing”
“Jaemin”
“Don’t worry. I used your good side”
Somehow, they survive dinner.
They even make it back to Jaemin’s apartment with most of their dignity intact.
Then, five minutes later, Jeno’s got Jaemin pinned against the kitchen counter, one hand under his shirt, the other tugging at his belt like he forgot they were pretending to be normal.
“This doesn’t count as a bathroom” Jaemin gasps against his mouth.
“Nope” Jeno murmurs. “This is gourmet”
Things escalate. Shirts come off. Pants follow. Jaemin’s half-sitting on the counter now, legs wrapped around Jeno’s hips, moaning against his mouth when…
BANG.
The front door swings open.
“Jaem, do you have - HOLY FU…”
Jungwoo freezes. Jeno freezes.
Jaemin does not freeze.
“Do you mind?” he says, completely calm, shirtless, flushed, and fully unbothered.
Jungwoo covers his eyes like a cartoon character. “I WAS JUST LOOKING FOR MY HEADPHONES!”
“You left them here?”
“I was here yesterday!”
“I’m taking your key back” Jaemin says. “Go stand in the hallway and think about your choices”
Jungwoo stumbles out the door, muttering about therapy bills and emotional damage.
Jeno lets his head fall onto Jaemin’s shoulder. “We’re cursed”
Jaemin runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry. Next time, we’ll do it in your kitchen”
The next morning, the group chat lights up:
[Jungwoo 8.30 am]
Walked in on Jeno and Jaemin, I’m suing for trauma
I saw nipples I can’t unsee
[Mark 8.31 am]
WHICH ONE
[Hyuck 8.31 am]
Why are you surprised. I’ve had a Jeno/Jaemin fanfic folder since spring
They’re just finally catching up
[Johnny 8.33 am]
When’s the honeymoon? And can I DJ?
[Jaemin 8.35 am]
No wedding unless he buys me a ring that matches my shoes
[Jeno 8.36 am]
Jesus Christ
[Jeno 8.36 am]
Anyway, yes. It was a date
And yes, it was great
And yes, I’m keeping him
He puts his phone down, letting chaos unleash.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
On Monday, reality catches up to them. Because that’s the thing about pretending to be normal.
Jeno is behind on deadlines. Jaemin is behind on sleep.
Between late nights in bed (and not sleeping) and early mornings pretending to be two functioning adults, they’ve both been riding on caffeine, sarcasm, and sheer sexual tension inertia.
So naturally, when Johnny suggests a weekend trip to “recharge,” Jeno says no.
Jaemin, of course, says yes for both of them.
“We’re going” he says, biting into a strawberry at Jeno’s kitchen table while responding to client emails. “It’s two days. You’ll survive”
“I have fittings”
“Reschedule”
“I’m behind on design approvals”
“Which you’ll do in the car”
Jeno narrows his eyes. “You’re trying to kill me with nature and shared bathrooms”
Jaemin grins. “I don’t share bathrooms. I conquer them”
The rented cabin is full of contradictions: huge deck, tiny fridge. Luxurious sheets, broken coffee machine. One working fireplace, zero working boundaries.
Mark claims the biggest bedroom for himself and Renjun. Johnny takes the attic. Jungwoo’s passed out in a hammock before unpacking.
Which leaves Jaemin and Jeno with the sunset room. One bed. No discussion. Just a long look and a raised eyebrow.
Jeno tosses his bag on the floor. “We’re too old for this”
Jaemin’s already unbuttoning his shirt. “You say that like you’re not going to sleep with your leg over mine like a needy golden retriever”
They try to be chill.
They hang out with the others. Roast marshmallows. Play cards. Jaemin lets Mark beat him at Uno once before pulling out his terrifyingly competitive streak. Jeno answers a few work calls quietly on the deck, notebook in hand, sketching between sips of warm beer.
But later, when everyone’s full of grilled things and tipsy from boxed wine, things get… cozy.
Jaemin ends up in Jeno’s lap by the fire - not even trying to hide it anymore.
Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “This feels domestic”
Jeno looks up lazily. “We’re efficient. We skip the drama”
Jaemin kisses the side of his jaw. “And the foreplay”
Mark screams into his hands.
The bed is big, but they don’t use all of it.
They sleep tangled.
Jeno wakes up first, groggy and warm, Jaemin’s arm across his chest, hair a mess, breath soft against his throat. He lies there for a second - just existing, not thinking - and realizes he’s smiling like an idiot.
Then Jaemin opens one eye. “You’re staring”
“You drooled on me”
“You liked it”
“Debatable”
Jaemin stretches, catlike. “You’re gonna be late for whatever work call you’ve been dodging”
Jeno groans. “I forgot about that”
Jaemin kisses him, quick and lazy. “Go be a professional. I’ll still be here being hot”
Later, Jeno’s on his laptop at the kitchen counter, hair damp from the shower, trying to get through a fashion line sheet revision while Renjun makes suspiciously loud cereal.
“You’re glowing” Renjun says, not looking up. “Is that a side effect of morning sex?”
Jeno flips him off without looking away from his screen. “I have work”
“Sure. So did Jaemin. But I heard headboard noises”
“You were in the 2nd floor”
“Sound carries”
Johnny walks in. “You two haven’t burned this place down yet? Incredible”
Jaemin appears right on cue, coffee mug in hand, glasses on, wearing Jeno’s hoodie like it’s his name now.
“Morning” he says innocently.
Doyoung walks in behind him, sees the hoodie, sighs like he’s aged six years, and walks right back out.
That night, Jeno curls into bed next to Jaemin, exhausted.
“Why do you look like a drowned intern?” Jaemin murmurs, pulling the blanket over them both.
“Because I had to fix three different fittings by email, and my boss thinks I’m in Seoul right now”
“You are your own boss.”
“Exactly. And he’s a prick”
Jaemin laughs quietly. “You love it”
“I love you”
It slips out. Quiet. Unforced. Real.
Jaemin blinks. Then kisses him once, gently, on the forehead.
“Yeah” he says. “I know”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday morning hits like a truck full of iced coffee and regret.
Jeno walks into his studio already bracing for disaster - deadlines, design notes, and a double espresso that still can’t fix the way Jaemin left his apartment this morning in his hoodie, sipping his last oat milk like he owned the place.
He’s halfway through organizing swatches when his assistant pops in, wide-eyed.
“Hey… uh… Doyoung sent a location update. You’re shooting in Studio C today now”
Jeno frowns. “What? That’s not the plan”
“Also, your model canceled. But don’t worry, they replaced them”
Jeno blinks. “With who?”
His assistant grimaces.
“…I think you should see for yourself”
Studio C.
Cameras. Backdrops. Softboxes. Clipboards.
And right in the middle of it all: Na Jaemin, in tailored slacks, flawless hair, and a half-buttoned dress shirt that does nothing to hide the fact that he’s not supposed to be here.
He’s supposed to be in PR. Coordinating clients. Smoothing egos. Writing witty email campaigns. Not looking like he just stepped out of a magazine and into Jeno’s last nerve.
Jeno stops dead in his tracks.
“You..what…why are you here?”
Jaemin smirks without turning. “Model flaked. Doyoung panicked. I was nearby”
“You work here”
“Exactly. I’m part of the brand. This is synergy”
Jeno exhales slowly. “You’re not a model”
Jaemin walks over, cocky and slow, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “I’m whatever you need me to be, Jeno”
Doyoung breezes past with a clipboard. “He’s doing great. Don’t ruin this.”
The shoot begins. Jaemin’s a menace.
He poses like he was born in front of a lens, all smolder and grace and effortless angles. Which is infuriating because he’s not supposed to be good at this.
And worse? He keeps glancing at Jeno between takes, mouthing things like “like what you see?” and “focus, boss”
Jeno nearly walks into a lighting rig. Twice.
During a break, Jaemin wanders over to where Jeno’s sketching behind the set, looking far too pleased with himself.
“I thought you wanted to keep things professional” Jeno mutters.
Jaemin shrugs. “I was being professional. Then you walked in looking like someone who needs a stress reliever”
“Stop flirting”
“Then stop staring”
Jeno points at him. “This is your fault”
“You’re the one who let me wear your hoodie out this morning” Jaemin says, casually stealing the pencil from Jeno’s hand and twirling it between his fingers. “That’s basically marking your territory”
“I’m going to die here”
“Don’t worry” Jaemin grins. “You’ll die pretty”
Later, when the studio clears out and Doyoung’s back to micromanaging the next client call, Jeno and Jaemin sneak into the prop room under the pretense of “cleaning up”
They do not clean.
Instead, Jaemin corners Jeno against a shelf of fabric bolts, kisses him until he forgets what stress is, and mutters against his mouth “Still think I’m not model material?”
Jeno grabs his waist. “You’re barely HR appropriate”
Jaemin gasps. “Was that a compliment?”
Jeno kisses him again. Harder this time.
So… yes.
Next morning, the campaign photo leaks early.
It’s Jaemin in one of Jeno’s signature pieces - a half-tucked silk shirt, one eyebrow raised, lips parted, hands in pockets, looking like the cover of a luxury scandal.
The comments go feral:
Who is he and where can I submit my resume
Wait is that the PR guy??
Jeno really said “date your coworkers” huh
Jeno’s taste jumped out and sat on my face
Jaemin reposts it with the caption:
Accidentally iconic 😌
Jeno texts him:
I hate you
Jaemin replies:
U just hate how hard u stared
also u moaned in the prop closet
receipts available upon request
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Unfortunately for Jeno’s sanity, their impromptu collab isn’t their only one. The photos made a splash, and word got around.
And somewhere in Seoul, a lifestyle influencer is making a comeback. Or trying to.
Her name is Bambi Lee - yes, really - and her skincare brand just barely survived a scandal involving pyramid schemes, two ex-boyfriends, and a misquoted TEDx talk about “detoxing your energy through intentional silence.”
Jaemin’s PR firm just took her on for “strategic brand rehabilitation”
Jeno’s fashion label just signed on for a capsule collab.
They’re both stuck in the same room. With her, and her team, at 9 a.m. sharp on a Monday.
“Shoot me” Jeno texts under the conference table.
Jaemin, in a suit and those glasses, smiles sweetly across the room and types back: not until after the campaign.
The meeting starts like any other disaster: too many iced Americanos, someone forgetting the deck password, and Bambi arriving 15 minutes late in a neon jumpsuit with sunglasses on, indoors.
Jaemin kicks into full professional charm.
“Miss Lee, it’s an honor” he says, voice all honey. “Thank you for trusting our firm with this new chapter”
She claps her hands. “Oh my god, you’re adorable!”
Jeno watches, arms crossed, jaw tight, resisting the urge to laugh. Until Jaemin calls him out.
“And this is Lee Jeno, head designer and creative director at 7DREAM.”
Bambi turns, squints. “You look… serious”
Jeno doesn’t blink. “Only when I’m working”
“Can you do less of that?”
Jaemin smiles into his coffee.
Midway through the pitch, Jaemin clicks through the moodboard slides. His voice is smooth, confident, PR-polished and smug.
“Our goal is to shift perception - from scandal to softness. From noise to nuance”
Jeno watches him gesture with elegant hands, those slim glasses sliding down his nose as he adjusts the mic and says “...of course, we’d only proceed with this direction if it’s approved by our lead designer”
And then he looks at Jeno. Dead in the eyes.
“Right, sir?”
The room doesn’t react. But Jeno’s entire body does.
He coughs. “Yes. That works”
Jaemin presses his lips together like he knows. And he does.
After the meeting, they walk out of the boardroom together. Quiet. Composed.
Until the elevator doors close.
“You did that on purpose” Jeno hisses.
Jaemin looks innocent. “Did what?”
“You called me sir in a business meeting”
Jaemin leans in. “I just respect the hierarchy”
Jeno slams the emergency stop button.
“Say it again”
Jaemin’s eyes flash. “Right here?”
Jeno smirks.
Ten minutes later, they walk out. Hair slightly mussed. Shirt untucked.
Jaemin’s glasses are askew and Jeno’s tie is missing.
No one says anything.
But Doyoung definitely saw them from the end of the hall.
That night, Jaemin’s legs are in Jeno’s lap as they scroll through influencer comments under the teaser campaign.
Wait why are the PR guy and the designer both hot??
The tension is giving me SKIN TEXTURE
This collab better come with a sex tape
Jaemin smirks. “People ship us”
Jeno grunts. “They have no idea”
Jaemin leans back. “You think they’d call me ‘PR Daddy’?”
Jeno immediately shuts the laptop. “Out”
Jaemin laughs until he’s breathless.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The email comes in at 6:04 a.m.
Subject line: [CONFIDENTIAL] Seoul Design Awards — Nomination Notification
Jeno stares at the screen, bleary-eyed, shirtless, hair half-slicked to one side from sleep. Jaemin is sprawled across the bed, his face buried in Jeno’s pillow like he pays rent there.
Jeno whispers, “Holy shit”
Jaemin mumbles “If it’s not coffee or sex, it can wait”
“It’s both”
Jaemin lifts his head. “Now I’m listening”
By 7.00 a.m., Jaemin is already texting the group chat.
Our boy’s been NOMINATED
Designer of the year
I knew sleeping with him would pay off eventually
Johnny responds:
Proud of u
For both the sex and the recognition
Renjun:
Pls don’t say “our boy” like that ever again
The gala is formal. Like, capital F Formal.
Black tie. Champagne tower. Speeches in three languages.
Jeno considers skipping it entirely. Jaemin does not allow that.
“You’ve worked your ass off” he says, already looking up tux rentals. “You're going. You're winning. And I’m going to sit next to you in a suit so tight it gives your ego a hard-on”
“You’re not even invited”
Jaemin holds up his phone.
“I’m your plus one. Doyoung and Hyuck added me out of spite”
Gala night.
Jeno wears black-on-black: tailored to kill, clean lines, subtle silk lapel. Hair swept back. Minimal jewelry. Maximal panic.
Jaemin shows up in cream satin, no tie, collar open just enough to make it not okay for broadcast television.
“Don’t look at me like that” he says when Jeno freezes.
“I’m not”
“You’re mentally undressing me”
“You’re not dressed enough”
“And yet I’m still overdressed for how I plan to end this night”
Jeno chokes on his spit.
Inside, they sit at table nine, between a jewelry heiress and a famous interior designer who keeps calling Jaemin “Juno”
Jeno is tense. Like, back-straight, wine-untouched, script-for-speech-clutched-in-death-grip tense.
Jaemin notices. He leans in, voice warm. “You’re not gonna puke, are you?”
“I might”
Jaemin brushes his fingers under the table, subtle and grounding. “It’s just a room full of rich people pretending to understand shade theory”
Jeno snorts.
“There he is” Jaemin whispers.
When Jeno’s name is called, it’s like the air compresses.
He stands, stunned. Walks up. The lights are too bright. The applause is polite, then louder, then genuine.
Jaemin watches him go, chest tight, heart full.
Jeno gives the speech. Stumbles once. Recovers. Mentions teamwork. Thanks his late mentor. Looks down at the table and - god help him - smiles when his eyes find Jaemin.
It’s not huge. It’s not performative. But it’s the smile. The one he only makes when he thinks no one’s watching.
Unfortunately, everyone is.
After the ceremony, the cameras are still flashing.
Someone gets a photo of Jeno leaning in to say something to Jaemin. Another gets Jaemin laughing, hand on Jeno’s shoulder. One catches them from behind, walking out together, just too close.
The photos hit the fashion blogs by midnight.
Back at the apartment, Jeno drops the award on the table.
Jaemin locks the door behind them and says “Take off your shoes”
Jeno kicks them off.
“Now the jacket.”
Jeno shrugs it off.
Jaemin steps closer, hands smooth against his chest. “Now the pants”
Jeno doesn’t argue.
They end up on the couch. Award tipped sideways on the coffee table.
Jeno breathless under Jaemin, post-gala glory still humming in his blood.
“You were incredible” Jaemin whispers. “Like, actually stunning”
“You’re biased”
“You’re right” Jaemin grins. “I am. But I’m also right”
Jeno cups his face, kisses him soft, then hard.
“Thanks for being there”
Jaemin hums. “Thanks for letting me”
Next morning, Jeno’s phone explodes with notifications.
The top headline on a fashion gossip site reads:
Power Couple or PR Coincidence? Designer Lee Jeno and PR Specialist Na Jaemin Spotted Looking Suspiciously Domestic at Seoul Design Gala
Jeno sighs.
Jaemin, in his robe and Jeno’s award balanced on his head, says “We’re trending, by the way”
“Perfect” Jeno mutters.
“You love it”
“You’re insufferable”
“I’m yours”
Jeno looks at him for a second too long.
Then says, “Yeah. You are”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It’s been exactly eleven days since the gala. And seven since the blogs coined them “fashion’s favorite PR-flavored power couple”
They haven’t officially addressed anything. No statements. No comments. Not even a soft-launch Instagram post.
Jeno’s been pretending everything is normal. Jaemin’s been pretending he can behave.
Both are lying.
Tonight, Jeno’s label is co-hosting an invite-only launch event for a sustainability capsule - half the Seoul creative scene is attending, and the rest are lying about being busy.
It’s sleek, rooftop, overpriced. Neon signage. Organic cocktails. Everyone smells like perfume and ego.
Jeno shows up early. Black turtleneck. Slacks tailored within a millimeter of their life. Simple rings. Understated. Deadly.
Jaemin shows up thirty minutes late. White silk shirt. Unbuttoned to sin. Tucked in just barely. Hair swept back and a lip ring he absolutely did not wear to work this morning.
Jeno takes one look and nearly walks into a wall.
“You’re overdressed” he says.
“I’m underdressed” Jaemin counters. “But you like that”
He’s not wrong.
Things go smoothly for a while.
Jeno works the room. Jaemin flirts with journalists. Doyoung monitors the wine levels like a hawk.
Then it happens.
Some young brand ambassador from Tokyo - all cheekbones and self-tanner - sidles up to Jeno and laughs too hard at something he says.
Touches his arm. Tilts her head. Asks if he’s “as intense in person as he is in fabric”
Jeno blinks. “Sorry?”
She leans closer. “You just seem... passionate”
And that’s when Jaemin appears. Like a ghost. Or a demon. Or both.
He slides between them, smooth as water. Places a hand casually on Jeno’s lower back.
“Oh, sorry” he says to the girl. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. He’s just due for... maintenance”
Jeno coughs.
The girl’s brows lift. “Maintenance?”
Jaemin smiles, syrup-sweet. “He overheats when people flirt with him” Then he leans in, brushes Jeno’s jaw with his thumb, and says, “Don't you, baby?”
Jeno short-circuits.
The girl makes an excuse and flees.
“What the hell was that?” Jeno hisses once they’re alone on the terrace.
“Territorialism”
“That was insane”
Jaemin shrugs. “I warned you”
“I’m not your…”
“You’re mine” Jaemin says, calm and final.
Jeno grabs his wrist. “Not here”
Jaemin grins. “So you do like it”
Ten minutes later, they’re in the elevator. No cameras. Just heat.
Jeno yanks him by the collar the second the doors close.
“Mark is going to kill us if we hook up in another public building”
“Then don’t moan this time” Jaemin teases, already pushing him against the wall.
Jeno growls. “I hate you”
“I know. Kiss me harder”
Back in the apartment, they collapse on the couch, still breathless.
Jaemin rolls onto his back, grinning like a criminal. “I was reasonable tonight”
“You sabotaged a conversation”
“I ended a threat”
“She wasn’t a threat”
“She touched you”
“So did you”
Jaemin smirks. “Exactly”
Jeno shakes his head, but his hand finds Jaemin’s anyway. They sit there a long moment. Quiet. Warm.
Something like love lingering.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It’s a Thursday night when Jeno finally does it. Invites Jaemin to a work function as his actual date.
Not a “plus one.” Not a PR accident. A real, public, intentional date.
The event: a minimalist art exhibit sponsored by a local magazine and one of Jeno’s past collaborators. It’s moody. Quiet. Wine with weird names. Sculptures made of melted bicycle parts.
Jaemin wears all black. Satin shirt. Loose silk pants. Hair back, lip ring gone. He looks less like a PR exec and more like someone who gets invited to rooftop DJ sets and never posts about them.
Jeno? Jeno’s in dark denim, boots, and a gray blazer he absolutely stole from Johnny’s closet. He’s also nervous. Because even though they share a toothbrush now, this still feels like a new kind of exposure.
But Jaemin is calm. Smirking. Effortlessly confident. Until he isn’t.
Jeno’s across the room, talking with a journalist. Jaemin’s waiting by some abstract portraits of people when he hears it.
Two girls. Stylish. Younger. PR interns, probably.
One nudges the other. “That’s him, right?”
“Yeah” the second one giggles. “The one Jeno’s always with”
“Is he actually anyone?”
“No clue. He’s just... really hot. Definitely arm candy. Like, I get it”
They walk off, sipping wine.
Jaemin doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Just lets it settle.
He knows who he is. What he does. But it still stings.
Ten minutes later, Jeno finds him.
“Hey” he says softly. “You okay?”
Jaemin shrugs. “Of course”
Jeno sees right through it.
“You’re being quiet.”
“I’m allowed to admire art in silence”
“You hate abstract photography”
Jaemin sighs. “Fine. I just... overheard something dumb”
“What?”
Jaemin hesitates. “Some interns called me arm candy”
Jeno blinks. Then blinks again. Then turns like he’s ready to track them down and go full psycho.
“Who?”
Jaemin grabs his arm. “Don’t”
“I will set this whole gallery on fire”
“You’ll get uninvited from every gallery in Seoul”
“They think you’re just hot?”
Jaemin raises a brow. “I am just hot”
“You’re also brilliant. Annoying. Strategic. Manipulative. Sweet, when you want to be”
Jaemin tilts his head. “Are you... complimenting me mid-rage?”
“Yes. I’m complex”
They end up in the bathroom because Jeno pulls him there. Not to hide - but to get a minute alone.
It’s quiet. The kind of fancy gallery bathroom with scented candles and art books stacked beside the sink.
Jaemin leans against the wall.
“You didn’t have to get angry”
“I always get angry when people underestimate you”
Jaemin smiles, small and real. “Why?”
Jeno steps closer. “Because I’ve seen you pull miracles out of garbage campaigns and turn nervous interns into social media killers. Because you believe in people until they believe in themselves”
Jaemin blinks.
“Because you’re the smartest person in any room” Jeno adds. “And you’re mine”
Silence.
Then Jaemin, voice soft: “Say that again”
“You’re mine”
“Good”
And then he kisses him. Slowly. Deeply. No rush. No teeth. Just yes.
They miss half the closing remarks. But no one notices.
Except maybe Johnny, who texts later:
Did u guys die in the gallery restroom or just make out
Either way: iconic
In the morning, Jaemin posts a photo of the art from the exhibit.
Caption:
I may be arm candy but I bite 🖤
Jeno comments:
That’s not even the worst thing you did with your mouth last night
The post hits 13k likes in under an hour.
Despite everything, they didn’t plan to go public.
Not officially. Not with a press release or a joint Instagram grid post or some curated PR moment involving a beach and coordinated shirts.
But at some point, it just... happens.
One minute they’re at a rooftop dinner with clients - half-business, half-cocktail hour - and the next, Jaemin leans over, presses a kiss to Jeno’s cheek mid-laugh, and doesn’t pull away fast enough.
Phones are out. Someone snaps it.
A caption shows up online the next day:
Jeno and Jaemin — Seoul’s Favorite Slow-Burn Romance Was Real After All.
They expect backlash. Awkward questions. Tabloid drama.
What they get is:
“Finally.” – Johnny
“This changes nothing except I’m blocking both of you.” – Renjun
“Can I post the elevator footage now?” – Mark
“Pay up. I bet on Q2 of this year.” – Hyuck
And a message from Jeno’s mom:
Tell Jaemin I’ve already picked a spot for his shoes by the front door. Come by Sunday.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They’re on the couch when it really hits.
Late. Low lights. Jaemin’s wearing one of Jeno’s hoodies and nothing else, legs tangled across Jeno’s lap, a forgotten bowl of popcorn between them.
Jeno’s scrolling - sees the photo again. The rooftop kiss. Jaemin’s hand on his shoulder. Jeno’s smile.
It doesn’t look posed. It looks right.
“You okay?” Jaemin asks, eyes soft.
Jeno doesn’t answer right away. Just sets his phone down and says, “I used to think… if people knew, they’d ruin it”
Jaemin nods slowly. “But?”
Jeno turns to him, presses a kiss to his collarbone.
“But there’s nothing to ruin if we already have it”
Jaemin exhales like he’s been holding it in for months. And pulls Jeno down by the collar.
They make love. Not the frantic, we-shouldn’t-be-doing-this kind. Not the revenge fucks. Not the blackout sex in a locked office.
This is unhurried. Warm.
Messy, in the way that happens when you know the body in front of you so well it makes you cocky.
Jeno kisses down his chest like he’s tracing territory.
Jaemin arches into him like he was built for this exact moment - eyes soft, mouth wicked, hands gripping like he knows he can.
When they finish, breathless and smiling, limbs tangled under the sheets, Jaemin whispers:
“Okay. This is my final form”
Jeno laughs. “What?”
“Yours. Fully claimed. No take-backs”
“Like you weren’t already mine from the first night”
Jaemin hums. “Maybe. But I like hearing you say it”
Jeno cups his jaw, kisses him again. “Mine”
One week later.
There’s an official announcement on the 7DREAM company account:
"We believe in passion. In good design. In team chemistry. In honest storytelling.
And sometimes… the best stories are love stories.
Congratulations to our Creative Director, Jeno Lee, and Na Jaemin - PR lead, chaos incarnate, and apparently his forever person”
The photo is simple. Just the two of them. Jaemin laughing, Jeno looking at him like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
Because it doesn’t.
Not when they’re like this.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The beach was Jaemin’s idea.
“I want to be somewhere where no one’s pretending to work and pretending not to notice us making out by the espresso machine”
So Jeno booked a three-day stay on the coast - quiet, off-season, minimal people, maximal sun. The house was one of those airy rentals with big windows and even bigger beds. Jeno packed three books. Jaemin packed four different types of sunscreen, zero pants, and six pairs of sunglasses “just in case his vibe changed mid-trip”
They spend most of the first day horizontal - on the sand, on the couch, on each other. It’s perfect. It’s dangerous.
The next night, they’re on the balcony, warm wind brushing bare skin. Jaemin has a glass of wine in one hand and one foot resting on the rail.
The sky is cotton-candy pink. Their playlist is lazy and soft - something Jeno picked that Jaemin pretended to hate but secretly saved.
And it happens so suddenly Jeno almost misses it.
Jaemin says, without fanfare:
“I love you”
No build-up. No theatrics. He just... says it. Like it’s always been there, waiting.
Jeno freezes.
Jaemin doesn't look up. “I know you’ve said it already”
He sips his wine.
“I just didn’t say it back then” he adds softly, “because if I did, I wouldn’t have known how to stop”
Jeno stares at him, breath caught in his throat.
“And once I started” Jaemin finishes, finally meeting his gaze “it would've been game over for me”
There’s a silence. Heavy. Electric.
Jeno puts his drink down. Stands. Walks over. Pulls Jaemin up by the waist and kisses him like they’re still on day one - teeth and need and finally.
Then he presses their foreheads together and says, breathless, “Say it again”
Jaemin grins. “Greedy”
Jeno tightens his grip. “Say it”
And Jaemin does.
“I love you”
This time with no hesitation. This time with his whole body saying it too.
They fall asleep tangled under thin sheets, bare skin sticking, Jaemin’s leg slung over Jeno’s hip like a claim.
At 3:17 a.m., Jeno stirs, half-asleep, and mutters “You took forever”
Jaemin, groggy “I’m dramatic. You knew this”
“I almost said it first again”
“You’ll survive”
Jeno nudges him. “I’m serious”
Jaemin hums, sliding closer. “You always are”
“I mean it. It’s you. It’s always been you”
Jaemin opens one eye.
“I know” he says, “but it’s hotter when you keep saying it”
The world keeps spinning.
They go back to the city.
Back to late nights and client calls and tastings and deadlines. Back to playful bickering in group chats and neck kisses in conference rooms.
But something has shifted. No more blurred lines. No more hiding.
Now when Jaemin shows up to events, he’s not Jeno’s “maybe.” He’s the one Jeno kisses in front of the photographers.
Now when Jaemin launches a new campaign, he puts Jeno’s name as “partner” without even asking. Because he knows Jeno will stand by him no matter what.
Now when Jeno signs a new client, Jaemin’s there - hand on his back, voice in his ear, saying, You’ve got this, sir.
And now, when Jaemin whispers I love you, Jeno says it back every damn time like it’s the only thing that matters.
Because it is.
Epilogue
The accidental engagement, the semi-intentional wedding, and why you shouldn’t let Donghyuck plan anything unsupervised.
They didn’t plan to get married. Not in the traditional sense.
They’d talked about it. Sort of.
Drunk on Jeju soju, Jaemin once muttered “You’d look hot in a suit next to me forever” and Jeno just kissed him like it was a yes.
But that was it. No proposals. No rings. Until the night it happened.
Which wasn’t romantic at all. Which is exactly why it was so them.
They were at Johnny’s rooftop BBQ. Jeno was tipsy. Jaemin was way more than tipsy.
Someone said “You two should just get married already”
And Jaemin, with a half-burned marshmallow on his stick and the worst timing known to man, said, “We are.”
Jeno blinked. “We are?”
Jaemin grinned, sticky and smug. “We’ve basically been married since I started using your Netflix account without asking”
All heads turned. Renjun choked on a beer. Johnny clapped. Hyuck pulled out his phone and screamed “I need a date and a suit.”
And that’s how it started.
Two months later, there’s a wedding. Kind of.
It’s small. Chaotic. Exactly wrong in every way except the ones that count.
Jaemin insists on no tuxes.
Jeno agrees but shows up in a three-piece black-on-black number anyway because “what if I want to look like your problem and a CEO at the same time?”
Jaemin wears white linen. No shirt underneath. His chest is glistening by accident. Or sabotage.
Everyone loses focus halfway through the vows.
The guest list:
- Johnny officiates. (“I legally can’t, but spiritually? I got this”)
- Renjun cries before it starts. Then denies it.
- Mark writes them a weird acoustic song that never quite rhymes.
- Doyoung controls the seating chart with military precision.
- Jungwoo livestreams it.
- Yuta shows up late but brings really good wine so no one cares.
- Hyuck says “I give it six months” and then sobs during the kiss.
The vows:
Jaemin goes first. He pulls a folded napkin from his pocket, looks Jeno in the eye, and says:
“I never wanted to belong to anyone. Until you.”
Jeno blinks rapidly. Jaemin continues.
“I don’t believe in soulmates. But I believe in this - whatever you are. You ruin me in the best ways. You see through every version of me and still come back.
You hold my hand like you mean it.
You let me bite your neck even when you have meetings the next day.
You make love feel like a punchline and a home.
So yeah, I’ll marry you.
But mostly because you’re hot.”
The crowd laughs. Jeno is visibly wrecked.
Then Jeno speaks.
“I thought I’d have to fight to keep you. But it turns out you were always standing right next to me. Loud. Beautiful. Impossible.
I don’t need forever. I just need this - one day at a time, over and over, with you.
Even when you’re being a pain in the ass. Especially then.”
Johnny fake-sniffs. Renjun real-sniffs.
Jaemin mouths you’re dead later with tears in his eyes.
They kiss. Hard. Deep. Borderline inappropriate.
Hyuck screams, “GROSS.”
Doyoung yells, “PHOTOS FIRST!”
No one listens.
The reception is chaos.
Jaemin gets champagne drunk and slow dances with Jeno in bare feet.
Jeno takes his tie off, wraps it around Jaemin’s wrist, and doesn’t let go for an hour.
Mark catches the bouquet. Everyone immediately tells him not to read into it.
The night ends with Jeno carrying Jaemin into the hotel suite, bridal-style.
Jaemin’s hair is wild. His shirt is undone. He whispers “So technically we’re husbands now”
Jeno grins. “What gave it away?”
Jaemin pulls him in and says against his mouth “The part where I can’t imagine waking up anywhere else for the rest of my life”
Jeno doesn’t answer. He just kisses him like a promise.
Six months later.
They’re still disgusting. Still obsessed.
Still holding hands in public and sending each other memes during work hours.
They fight over laundry and playlist order and who finished the oat milk.
They make up under covers and in the hallway and once, in Jeno’s office after hours.
And every night, Jaemin says “I love you”
And every night, Jeno answers “More than anything”