moonzzip

[moonzzip]

— masterlist . ! 🤍

(initially) g-d writer!

requests – closed

★ G-DRAGON | KWON JIYONG

⟡ . one-shots (maybe)

⭑ thinkin' bout you — you wanted to help jiyong, but it didn't go as planned.

⭑ spill the tea — jiyong is anxious, very nervous about appearing on stage again in front of so many people, but you appear.

⭑ coffee and nail polish — you and jiyong haven't seen each other in weeks, you two relax.

⭑ dreams — jiyong gets stressed over things that aren't directly your fault.

⭑ what we share — you are hired for a new commission and meet again someone you never expected to see.

⟡ . mini-series

⭑ my song for you — your passion for music has always been something that kept you grounded, but soon you found yourself lost. your friend gets you into trouble, and you wonder if your wounds will ever heal.

⭑ prologue . chap. 1

[moonzzip]

my song for you | chap. 1

a/n — hii! first chapter of the mini-series, as I said, I've been very busy, but I tried to do my best, I swear the next one will be better than this one!

summary: you think about everything happening, a lot of information and it overwhelms you, but it can also free you, even momentarily.

pairing: jiyong x pianist!gn!reader

!warnings: mention of blood, toxic family, jiyong distressed, reader expresses many thoughts.

lowercase letters, w.c: 2k

with no thoughts in mind, you play the music. your mind seems to shine, your fingers move on their own. with your eyes closed and a smile on your face, you savor the notes melting into your ears, and then the music ends.

only you and silence remain, but the smile on your face doesn’t fade. you turn to your mother, waiting for something.

she’s not there anymore.

_

your heel taps repeatedly on the floor, your furious gaze not leaving jonghoon for even a second. if it weren’t a crime, you would shut him up with a punch.

he looks at you, his gaze hardening. the man simply ignores it and keeps talking.

"so, i think that would be the proposal for your participation. what do you think?" jonghoon turns to you, flashing a big, bright smile. you sigh, standing up.

"jonghoon, jiyong-nim, i’m sorry," you bow at a 90-degree angle, avoiding eye contact with either of them, staring only at the floor. "i don’t even know exactly what the project is, and to be honest, i didn’t pay attention to anything my friend said, kwon-nim. but i have no intention of joining the song." your gaze lifts, finally looking at the man with colorful hair. "i haven’t played in three years, and i have no intention of going back to it either. jonghoon knew that, but..." you bow again. "thank you for the opportunity."

grabbing your things— your bag and phone—you sling the bag over your shoulder and head for the door. looking back, you nod a small goodbye, then open the door and leave the room.

_

the stage in front of you shone, your hands were sweating, but not from anxiety—rather, from anticipation. this was one of your first performances in front of a crowd. you wanted to have fun, to finally play for someone other than your family, and that excited you.

wiping your sweaty palms on your clothes, you adjusted your hair, but something caught your eye from the corner.

huh? people were leaving!

peeking through the curtain, you helplessly watched everyone rise from their seats until the place was empty.

an adult hand grabbed your shoulder, pushing you toward the piano at the center, leaving you alone.

again, no one would see you play.

this wasn’t the first time you played alone in such a large place, but it had never occurred to you that everything would slip through your fingers like this—the audience you wanted to show your love for the piano to, walking away as if it had all been an illusion.

you sat on the piano bench, your chest tightening, tears rolling down your face. your white gloves hid the marks of your journey, the piano keys blurred in your vision, your ears hearing nothing but the loud beating of your heart.

and you played.

jiyong walked, ruffling his hair with his white beanie in the other hand, along with a bouquet of small white flowers. his heart was tight, shattered, filled with anger at himself and at her. his feet moved aimlessly, without any idea where to go.

how could she do this to him? he had given her his whole heart, his soul, his time, his care. he had given his life to her. today was supposed to be one of their dates after a small argument they had.

"you never have time for me, jiyong! i don’t want to beg for your time!"

"when you met me, you knew i was busy! i spend all my time training for this idol thing! i’m the leader! i have to be there too!"

after that, the argument only escalated, ending with jiyong storming out of her house, slamming the door.

all this time, he had been drowning in guilt and worry that her love for him was fading. but he had discovered in the worst way that there had never been a place for him in her heart.

his green jacket was the only thing shielding him from the cold wind.

anger clouded his senses, and he walked toward a trash can nearby, ready to throw away the flowers, until he saw a poster at the bottom, covered in dirt. his first instinct was to ignore it, but his eyes and mind read the words anyway.

maybe it was the need to escape the weight of the pain in his chest.

curiosity won him over. confused, he picked up the paper from the trash, dusting off the dirt with his fingertips. he unfolded it completely.

'8th piano festival at xxxx theater, 8:00 pm. free admission.'

a two-minute walk. maybe it would be good to clear his head. unconsciously, he tightened his grip on the now slightly crushed flowers in his hand—better than standing still, wallowing in pain alone.

arriving at the venue with one hand in his pocket, his beanie back on his head, and the flowers still in his hand, he entered through the slightly open door, continuing inside.as he reached the auditorium, it was large and dimly lit, only increasing his curiosity.

suddenly, people started getting up and leaving. confused, he dodged a few, looking around until the place was empty.he looked toward the exit, puzzled. maybe it was over

checking his watch, it was only 8:27 pm. he sighed, ready to leave.

then, out of nowhere, catching a glimpse of movement on stage, jiyong froze and turned his head.

silently, he watched as someone was pushed toward the center and left alone there.

a few seconds later, the person sat at the piano, deepening the boy’s confusion—until the instrument played its first note.

your heart burned with loneliness and frustration, each note played was like your tears streaming down your face, your pain pouring out onto that brightly lit stage. your feet pressed the pedals forcefully, but not enough to break them.

your fingers moved across the keys with such delicacy and speed that if someone blinked, they would completely lose track of your rhythm.

why do these unfortunate things only happen to you?

didn't you try hard enough?

didn't you play enough?

all these thoughts ran through your mind.

did you deserve what happened to you?as the music ended, your fists hit your thighs while you sat in the chair, breathing heavily and crying silently.

clap, clap, clap.

what is that sound?

maybe it's just in your head and—

"wow... my heart really started racing..."

your head snapped up so fast that you could almost hear a crack.

you turned toward the voice, letting out a surprised breath, blinking rapidly to clear your blurred vision.

a boy, maybe 19 years old? (you guessed), wearing a white tank top, a long dark green denim jacket, jeans, expensive white sneakers, and a white beanie, stood below the stage, looking at you with admiration. he rested his arms on the edge of the stage, which was only slightly lower than him, holding a small bouquet of flowers in one hand.

he smiled at you until he noticed your tears. the boy blinked in surprise, unsure of what to do, until he remembered the flowers. he smiled again.

"i didn't know what to do with these, but..."

he bent his knees slightly and jumped up onto the stage effortlessly, sitting on the floor first before standing and walking toward you. he extended his hand, offering the flowers.

"now i think i do."

_

man, where was jonghoon really thinking? is he crazy?

walking angrily, your feet hit the ground harshly as you reached the closed elevator, pressing the button with force. you were on the top floor of this building, and the elevator was apparently on the ground floor— about five minutes to come up. your patience was wearing thin.

you shouldn't have even come, honestly. your breathing started to quicken. closing your eyes, the top of your hand began to itch. your fingers scratched over the fabric of your other glove. good thing you wore them— you knew yourself well enough to know you would scratch until it bled.

"___-ssi?"

a gentle voice called you, and you turned around, your breathing still uneven. the man smiled.

it was g-dragon.

"g-dragon-nim..." you whispered.

"i'm sorry for leaving like that, it's just..." you averted your gaze. "it was getting too stressful."

the man stood silently beside you.

"you know, this isn’t how i wanted to meet you." jiyong looked at you, "i didn’t want my favorite singer to see me like this. at my worst." you bit your lip slightly, holding back more words.

"forgive jonghoon, sometimes he talks too much. don’t be mad at him for bringing someone who didn’t accept your project. i’m sure you'll find someone better—"

"i want it to be you."

your heart skips a beat unintentionally, but your face doesn’t show embarrassment, only surprise. you point at yourself, your head spinning, "me?"

the man nods and gives a small smile.

"i've seen you play before, ___-ssi, and—"

you interrupt him, "seriously??? when???" you cover your mouth immediately. you hate remembering your past performances—if you could, you’d bury them in a hole so deep it would reach the earth’s core. "impossible, jiyong-nim. if it was online, i might understand. was it some video on youtube?"

the man just smiles and doesn’t answer your question. he continues speaking instead. "your way of playing is very special, ___-ssi. that’s what i can say."

special? what’s special about what you did? you were and still are the worst pianist in your family. you never brought them the pride they expected from you. that’s why they left, disappeared from your life, abandoned you.they despised you your whole life.

they left you alone, just like every other time. but this time, it was forever.

so why… why did those words—words you had always considered lies—suddenly ignite something in your heart?

your fingertips tingled, your eyelashes trembled, your breath hitched for a moment.a feeling you couldn’t name struck your soul, your spirit.

everything became warm and pleasant, yet confusing.

that empty, miserable feeling disappeared from your poor body, even if just for a fleeting moment.no. don't go.

you want to feel this again.

you want to feel alive again.you want this flame to never go out again.

you want a reason to get up every morning again.

you don’t want to drown in your past sorrows, in the pain you’ve carried until just a few seconds ago.

you don’t want to be alone—you want something to hold on to, to keep you standing again.

don't go.

the dark fog in your mind had cleared for mere seconds.

your gray world had burst into warm, welcoming colors.

you want to hold onto it—but what’s keeping you back? what’s keeping you trapped in this misery that is your life?

is it the fear of being alone forever?

of never being able to love anything again?

of not being able to share what you feel and drowning in the anguish forced upon you?

is it the way you keep clinging to a distant, unhappy past that shaped who you are now, only to finally realize you’re terrified of staying in the same place forever?

this fear has eaten away at you for so long that it blinded you to everything that once brought you joy and the will to live.

you don’t want this feeling anymore.

you don’t want it. never again.

this feeling that lasted less than a millisecond—you want to feel it forever.

"i will play for you, jiyong-nim."

a/n — i honestly don't know if I liked this chapter very much, but like I said, i'll improve! i hope you liked it! feel free to correct any mistakes!

[moonzzip]

my song for you | prologue

a/n — I decided to make this mini-series in celebration of g-d's new album (and due to the lack of new stories these days), I've been busy and that's why I haven't been releasing any more stories, but I hope you like this one, I'll release the next chapter soon!

summary: your passion for music has always been something that kept you grounded, but soon you found yourself lost. your friend gets you into trouble, and you wonder if your wounds will ever heal.

pairing: jiyong x pianist!gn!reader

!warnings: mention of toxic family, bruises, blood, fainting

lowercase letters, w.c: 2,1k

nothing. nothing comes to your mind, nothing.

you play, play, and play the keys, but nothing forms.

the sound is empty, the melody is empty, the notes are empty, everything, absolutely everything is empty.

none of the forms give you feeling, never satisfied with what you're doing.

everything is bad, everything sounds bad, you don't feel like you're doing it right, nothing seems right.

your hands tremble, your fists want to clench, false notes, off-key sounds, your finger clicked the wrong key, your foot stepped wrong, you missed by a millisecond, you played two at the same time, you played none.

and you stop.

your breath is tired, frustrated, disgusted, agonized. your soul feels broken and empty, lonely.

that song that once made you happy no longer fills you.

you've been playing the piano for as long as you can remember. your family is a great pianist family, so you always had this obligation to know how to play. everyone in the family was considered a prodigy.

but not you.

you were slower compared to your cousins, took longer to understand compared to your aunts when they were children, didn't have the motor coordination of your mother or the speed of your father.

you were incomplete.

the scars on the top of your hand say it all, every little scratch, purple mark, dripping blood, silenced scream, cry, and sweat.

even so, you never felt anger toward them, your family.

much less hatred for the piano.

it was an object, it wasn’t its fault.

it wasn’t the piano that made your blood run, it wasn’t the piano that made your tears fall.

you used the piano as an escape, despite it having brought you misery.

anger rises to your head, your fists finally clench completely and begin to strike the instrument fiercely, horrible sounds coming out due to the aggression on the black and white keys, your screams scratch your throat, your body sore and tired, your mind full, yet empty at the same time, too messy, your already dried tears no longer fall.

you continue the attack for a while, until exhaustion almost wins.

you bite your lips so hard they bleed, your head tilts back, the blood running down your lips, your vision blurs, and your body falls back, staring at the ceiling as you let out a sigh, and everything goes dark.

your feet walk along the crowded sidewalk, your hands in furry, warm gloves, looking at your feet but still seeing ahead to avoid bumping into someone.

you stop at the edge of the sidewalk, now looking up, the cars passing at high speed, countless people on the other side and beside you. you sigh, hiding your face in your warm scarf, your eyes catching the large sign meters away from you: ‘galaxy corporation,’ and you sigh again.

what was your friend thinking? he called you out of nowhere, saying he needed you to come to the company where he works because it was urgent. what the hell could be so urgent that he needed your help? nothing comes to mind. your day had been going so well, you had slept reasonably well, and it was cold enough to stay under the blankets for as long as you wanted. just thinking about it makes you yawn, stretching your back, hearing a small crack, and adjusting your clothes, brushing off invisible dust.

well, here goes nothing.

the door opens automatically, the warm air hitting your face. you breathe in satisfaction and step inside—it’s well-lit and spacious—the door closes behind you. you take off your scarf and store it in your bag. there aren't many people, a small group and some scattered around, but nothing beyond that.

you wonder if your friend is waiting for you down here. you look around but decide to go to the reception.

“ah... excuse me?” the receptionist looks up and gives you a small but still gentle smile.

“hello! how can I help you?”

you try to return the smile, but it feels awkward, so you continue, “mr. kim jonghoon called me and asked me to come. could you check if he’s here?”

you could just call him, but this isn’t the first time jonghoon has called you out of nowhere saying he has something important to say, only to disappear when you try to call back. you’re not in the mood to waste your phone credits on him.

“ah! kim jonghoon-ssi? just a moment.”

you watch her pick up the fancy black phone and dial some numbers. it rings, and jonghoon answers almost instantly.

that bastard. he knew you wouldn’t come if he kept answering and responding to your questions. this man is getting too clever for your liking. you roll your eyes internally.

the receptionist is smiling like an idiot on the phone. jonghoon has a habit of flirting with people, but he could do that another time.

the sound of the phone being placed back on the receiver pulls you from your thoughts.

“he is in the building, yes. he’ll be here soon, please wait patiently.”

it’s not like you have anywhere else to go.

you look around and see an empty armchair nearby. it looks comfortable, so you sit down. you wonder if he’ll take long, then pull out your phone, looking for something to do.

ah... you should have downloaded some games.

would it be rude to put on your headphones? you think about it but take them out anyway, connecting them via bluetooth. you scroll through your spotify, maybe something by bigbang? lots of options, your finger hovers over a few, clicks one, skips, until you find one.

‘my heaven’ appears on your screen. ah... this song is so good. you remember watching the m/v when you were younger. you used to follow the group more closely. they were your inspiration to play that... thing. after a while, you just gave up on music altogether.

you sigh, looking at your hands, the scars hidden beneath the gloves, running from your elbows to your fingertips.

hours and hours, endlessly playing that thing, until your nails broke and your fingers formed calluses, or until you passed out. most times, that’s how it went.that leather whip was used on your delicate little hands, mercilessly, without pause.

you had always been a well-behaved child, never complained, never gave a reason for such methods to be used, but apparently, your difficulty in learning was reason enough.

always put down, always compared to everyone in your family—

"your aunt learned this in three days."

"your sister wouldn’t make a mistake like that."

"you never get this right on the first try. useless."

things like that.jonghoon only knows the surface. you never had the courage to give him many details, and you don’t plan to.

he understands. he never crosses that line, and that’s it.

you played so much, so much, participated in so many projects nonstop, took courses, tests, competitions, but never received a 'congratulations', never an applause. it was as if you were performing for no one.

but you never complained. as long as you liked playing, nothing could affect you.

until it did.

your thoughts are once again interrupted by a light kick to your shoe. it’s jonghoon.

(internally, you thank him for pulling you out of those thoughts.)

“hey, ___!”, he greets you excitedly.you look at him blankly before putting him in a headlock, muttering angrily,

“you bastard. you call me in the middle of the night, say it’s important, then ignore me? you know I have no patience for this, and you call me at 3 AM?? I’m going to kill you, kim jonghoon.”

he knows you’re really mad when you say his full name.

“a-ah, _-__, I can’t talk—”

you tighten your grip.

“your silence is starting to please me, jonghoon. you in a coffin would be even better.”

he taps your arm, and you loosen slightly.

“i-if you let me g-go, I c-can talk.”

you click your tongue and release him, crossing your arms.

“speak. before I change my mind and leave.”

he knows you’re not joking, so he hurries.

“so... I kind of... signed you up for a temporary job... playing piano for an artist’s production here.”

kim jonghoon was a dead man that day.

...or so you wish.

but here you were, sitting at a table with your friend in front of you. he bought you lunch, so you forgave him—temporarily. two days, you told him.

"jonghoon, you know i haven't played in three years. what the hell were you thinking!?" your voice rose slightly, laced with disappointment, and you didn’t hide it.

he lowered his head a bit, knowing what he did wasn’t right. "sorry, ___… i just wanted to help. seeing you in the same situation as three years ago makes me anxious. i hate seeing you like that at home, and—"

letting out a frustrated sigh, you ran your hands through your hair, elbows resting on the table. "this is something i'm working on, jonghoon. i know you want to help, but—" you stared at the table, eyes slowly filling with tears.

"it’s not something that heals just like that... i hate the piano. i hate my music. i hate my family. and i hate hating these things."

the man in front of you stood up and walked over, gently running his fingers through your hair. "look… i know what i did was wrong, but ___…"

he hesitated, and you looked up at him. "i know you don’t actually hate the piano. i know you don’t truly hate your music. it’s what lifted you out of where you were, ___. don’t say that, please."

you looked at him, anger flashing in your eyes. "kim jonghoon, don’t talk about things you don’t understand."

you stood from your chair, grabbing your things. "sometimes, you're just like them. you try to dictate how i feel. you don’t know anything. you shouldn’t have done this, and you know it."

you walked toward the door, ready to leave. "i’m not completely mad. i get that you want to help, but… just leave me alone. for a while."

just before you reached for the handle, the large door swung open. you took a few steps back as a man entered.

his colorful hair, cap with a scarf tied over it, yellow-tinted glasses, vibrant clothes, and perfectly painted nails made him stand out. he brought color into the dull, lifeless room—like a stylish rainbow.

jonghoon perked up, walking over to the man.

"jiyong-ssi! hey, how are you!?" he greeted the man enthusiastically, who smiled at him and bowed at a precise 90-degree angle.

"jonghoon-ssi, hello. i'm doing well. and you?" his voice was calm and deep, slightly raspy but steady. the more energetic man simply smiled and nodded in agreement.

you stood with your hands in your pockets, feeling a little out of place, glancing around.

the man with colorful hair noticed you in the room and fidgeted with his hands slightly but still greeted you. "you must be ___-ssi, right?"

you nodded with a small ‘yes’ and bowed at 90 degrees as well, polite. the man in front of you did the same. "i'm kwon jiyong. nice to meet you. i heard you’ve been playing piano for years—i’m interested in your work."

you stared at him for a few seconds, but before you could respond, jonghoon cut in. "ahh, ___ is definitely interested, jiyong-ssi! i told them about the job, and they rushed right over—you can trust me on this."

giving your friend a deadly glare, he continued undeterred. "the absolute best pianist in the world is standing right in front of you! i’ve never seen anyone like them—pure dedication! the music that comes from ___'s fingers takes me to heaven, seriously!"

you rolled your eyes at jonghoon’s exaggerated praises but stayed silent. he wasn’t going to give up on making you play again. you didn’t know how to feel about it—grateful or incredibly frustrated.

the more energetic man pulled you and jiyong by the arms, making you both sit at the table as he started talking.

"___, jiyong-ssi recently started producing his third solo album, something highly anticipated by his fans, of course. it’s not every day that g-dragon releases an album, and—"

ah.that’s why kwon jiyong seemed familiar to you.

the man sitting beside you was g-dragon.

you put your elbows on the table and buried your head in your hands.

what the hell had you gotten yourself into?

a/n – so, I wrote this while listening to gd’s ‘drama’, seriously, what a wonderful album, where I live it came out at 2 in the morning, but I woke up to listen to it, I don’t regret it one bit, thank you for the wonderful album gd, I have no complaints (and never have). thanks for reading! I’ll release part one soon, I think it will have at most 3 parts (not counting the prologue), but I can’t guarantee anything. feel free to correct any mistakes!

[moonzzip]

what we share | kwon jiyong

a/n — i tried to put as much feeling into this story as possible, i think i expressed it well (I think), i hope you like it! feel free to correct grammatical mistakes! love ya 🤍

summary: you are hired for a new commission and meet again someone you never expected to see.

pairing: jiyong x gn!photographer!reader

warnings: fluff, a lot of feeling, i think nothing more

lowercase letters, word count: 2,7k

you close your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief, covering your mouth with your fist. this is unbelievable, you think. there’s no way this is real. your heart races, your body shivers.

expensive cheese is definitely the best in the world—this is a top-tier charcuterie board.

you silently thank yourself, patting your own shoulder for accepting the request from that strange old man. well, you know him (you’ve seen him on the internet)... he’s just weird.

you don’t even remember his name properly, but he owns some music industry company—what’s it called again? your eyes were on the payment for this gig. why the hell was he paying you so much? you have no idea, but you’re not complaining either.

the party itself is quite big, but there are about three other photographers scattered around. more will arrive later, but among those already here, none seem to be appreciating the food as much as you. no one does it better than you.

you got here early, camera already hanging around your neck, snacking on cheese, olives, bits of ham, and other things—so many variations of the same items that you can't even count. the formal dinner is supposedly happening after 8:30 pm, so you have to stuff yourself now—who knows if there will be anything left by then? you had a little bread, a snack or two before coming, but the old man promised food, so you held back. you don’t know if there’s going to be a table for the photographers or if you’ll all end up eating in a tiny room full of useless junk that barely fits two people sitting down.

internally, you pray to any god listening that this is just your imagination. ah... you can smell the scent of expensive, delicious food from miles away.

finishing your cheese, you glance around. there’s even a fountain with a well-sculpted cupid spouting water from its mouth. you also spot an ice sculpture of… what the hell is that?

oh. it’s the old man.

your eyebrow furrows slightly with a confused mix of disgust and disbelief. so, he was that type... yeah, it actually fits his overall vibe.

now that you think about it, the old man gave you a contract to sign. you were going to read it until he mentioned the numbers, and then you just grabbed the pen and signed it. a spectacularly dumb move on your part, but whatever, right? he could have slipped in a clause about selling your dog, billie, and you wouldn’t even have noticed.

billie, forgive me if that actually happened.

bored of talking to yourself in your head, you get to work.

not to brag, but you’re really good at what you do. you’ve had experience with an endless variety of projects—you’ve been a camera coordinator for films, series, music videos. seriously, you’ve done it all. you’ve photographed everything.

marine life? yes.

natural phenomena? yes.

supernatural? maybe not, but you’ve caught a shadow or two.

jungle life? also yes!

you’ve spent weeks in some country, shooting and filming whatever they needed. thinking about it now, maybe you should start reading contracts more carefully before accepting a job.

your work isn’t just about holding a camera and snapping random photos. your job is to show people what you see—to capture your perspective, your way of admiring things, whether small details or grand landscapes. this is how you express yourself, sharing what you observe. and you don’t regret it, despite a few life-or-death situations along the way.

you chuckle at the thought. where’s my love for life? no idea.

scratching the corner of your mouth, you take a wide shot of the venue, checking the preview on your camera’s small screen. (did you mention how huge its lens is? no? well, it is.)

you’re the lead photographer tonight, responsible for capturing everything—from the main guests to that cursed ice statue. you shudder, squeezing your eyes shut for a second to erase the image from your mind.

oh. the first guests are starting to arrive. now the real work begins.

you move toward the entrance and start with simple shots, adjusting the focus before capturing images. so many people arrive at once, but that doesn’t discourage you. later, you’ll have to take individual portraits of the main guests anyway.

slowly, the hall fills up. the other photographers are already at work—one outside, filming the arrival of guests stepping out of their expensive leather-seated limousines; another woman recording a general overview of the venue; a third taking pictures of the “less important” people (according to the old man). meanwhile, you, speaking in a calm and polite tone, ask guests for permission to take their photos. your charm is strong, and you genuinely enjoy your job, so it’s not a problem.

you see children, animals—only dogs and cats, inside bags or on leashes—people (of course), some older, some younger. you overhear one of your fellow photographers saying that a large number of actors, actresses, many, like many idols, groups, and solo artists are here.

you don’t really follow the industry closely—not that you don’t consume the content, you just don’t dig deep into it. so, if someone asks you who some colorful-haired guy from some group is, you definitely won’t know.

you swap out your phone frequently because you have a bad habit of breaking it during photoshoots. you’ve been more careful lately, but it still feels like you get a new one every three days. that doesn’t mean you’re some clueless grandma who just discovered the internet last week—you know things, okay? you work in photography, so of course, you have to know how to use a phone. you do! it’s just that when you’re online, your mind is locked onto other types of content—games, your favorite youtubers, food videos, and other cool stuff. but so what? no one asked you.

you nod to yourself. who am i even talking to?

you refocus on your work.

you have a list to follow.

"let’s see... now... g-d... gey-dragon... g-dragon...? is that how you say it? probably," you mumble to yourself, shrugging at your own question. wait, how are you even supposed to find him??

you look at your list for more details. kwon jiyong... kwon jiyong? your eyes wander upward, hand on your chin. that name sounds familiar, but from where?

you shrug again and scan the paper.

"chanel ambassador... founder of the brand peaceminusone... peaceminusone??"

you glance at your sneakers. despite your formal black outfit (a bussiness suit—mandatory for all photographers), the only not black thing on you is the colorful logo of your nikes. you bought them recently and fell in love at first sight. you vaguely remember seeing "peaceminusone" when researching the shoes. they even had daisy designs with missing petals that you found adorable.

you get a little more excited. what kind of person is he? g-dragon... i think that’s right. would it be weird to go around asking who he is? yeah, probably. better to ask where he is instead.

scanning the room, you spot amai, another photographer. she might know. you chuckle at yourself.

approaching the shorter girl, you tap her shoulder lightly. "hey, hey, amai! how’s it going?" speaking in japanese, knowing she struggles with korean.

hearing your voice, she turns with a smile. "hello, ___! i’m good, and you? busy?"you smile at her sweetness, playfully tapping her head. "nothing i can’t handle. your senior here has everything under control, don’t worry." you continue, "i wanted to ask if you know where... g-d—g-dragon-nim is? is that how you say it?"

amai giggles at your stuttering mix of korean and japanese.

"g-dragon-san? i think i saw him going outside to the garden, but i'm not sure..." a bit of guilt appears on the shorter girl's face for not being able to help you. seeing this, you gently ruffle her hair, smiling, "thank you, amai~ that helped me a lot. good job to you~" you wave as you walk away, and she smiles, waving back.

okay, you got some information, but is it enough? you wonder. you're more lost than a fish out of water, you have no idea how to search... better go where amai said first, maybe someone saw him there.

you walk, greeting everyone with a smile and a nod, carefully avoiding bumping into anyone (your lens was way too expensive, you don’t want to risk breaking it). you reach the door leading to the garden.

you’re not sure if you have permission to enter. maybe you should wait for him to come out? but what if it’s not him? this waiting time could be spent looking for him instead. maybe he's just nearby?

you glance around but then remember you don’t even know what he looks like, so you have nothing to lose.

placing your hand on the doorknob, you twist it and pull.

oh.

it didn’t open.

you keep trying to pull.

okay.

maybe it’s locked?

you sigh.

maybe try...

you twist the knob again and push outward this time, and it opens.

oh man, is there anyone dumber than you

unlike before, you pray to any existing god that no one saw this horribly embarrassing scene. you clear your throat to cover up the shame, open the door wider, and step outside into the garden.

everything was so illuminated, not by any lamp, but by the moon itself. you look up at the sky, walking forward, stepping down the small staircase, your feet touching the grass. the garden was beautiful, with several flower arches in various colors, nothing excessive, a small bird fountain, scattered benches, and even a tiny artificial pond where you could see fish swimming inside. it was truly adorable. the garden was spectacular—definitely worth photographing.

you smile fondly and start capturing everything you see. turning to the side, one eye closed, the other on the camera, you see through your lens a man sitting on a garden bench, his back turned to you. he wears a coat with fine, shiny fur, seemingly an expensive crochet design, in shades of purplish-blue, lighter blue, with small pink and green details, the colors blending into a rich pattern. you couldn't see the pattern of his pants well due to some flowers near the bench, but his pink hair was very noticeable—not an eye-burning pink, but a very beautiful shade. he didn't seem to be looking at his phone or anything, he was just... admiring the night and the beautiful garden.

lowering your camera, you stare at his back for a few seconds until—

"ah. that must be g-dragon-nim."

you murmur to yourself and start walking towards him. to avoid startling him, you call out softly,

"excuse me, kwon jiyong-nim..?"

the man's shoulders jump slightly, but then his face turns, his slightly long hair moving along with it. the moonlight highlights his cheekbones, as well as his eyes. you stare for a moment before your own eyes widen.

"j... jiyong..?" — "___?"

you and the man in front of you speak at the same time.

he stands up so quickly you don’t even have time to blink. you almost take a step back but steady your feet. neither of you speaks, just examining each other.

you noted earlier that he was only wearing that coat and a necklace—like, nothing underneath?

apparently, he noticed your gaze and instinctively pulled the coat tighter to cover some skin, though not out of discomfort.

jiyong felt his cheeks heat slightly. the person he had been looking for all these years, and in their first reunion, they see him like this? not that he was poorly dressed, he just felt your stare was too intense.

noticing him adjusting his coat, you act as if you didn’t see anything.

"wow... it's been so long... how long, like... 5 years?—"

"16 years, ___."

your mouth falls open in shock—it had been 16 years since you last saw kwon jiyong’s pretty face.

the man overcomes his moment of awkwardness and looks at you with a serene gaze, and unconsciously, you match his expression. both of you feeling nostalgia, overwhelmed by emotions from a past that now feels too distant. 16 years is no short time—it’s impossible to ignore the palpable longing between you. in those 16 years, either of you could have been kidnapped, died in an accident, been killed, gotten involved in crime, anything. but no, here you both were, face to face, in silence.

"i've been looking for you. all this time."

his deep voice resonates in your ears, filled with raw emotion—so much longing, a bit of exhaustion, and relief.

your heart races. you press the back of your hand against your mouth, letting out a shy laugh, but quickly recover, smiling as you step closer to jiyong. now, you’re truly face to face. "don't say things like that, or I'll fall for you all over again."

he chuckles softly, stepping even closer. "what if that’s my goal?"

you shrug, your faces now mere inches apart. "then I'll let myself feel it."

surprised, he leans back slightly and laughs. "you’re even worse than 16 years ago, who taught you this?" he playfully judges you, and you shrug again. "you're just too charming not to flirt back, you know?"

he rolls his eyes, looking down, opening his mouth to say something but stopping when he sees your shoes.

"my nike collab sneakers? you’re more of a fan than i thought, ___."

following his gaze, you look down too and laugh. "ahh~ yes, kwon jiyong, i totally thought of you when buying these sneakers."

he looks at you, his eyes shining slightly. "wow, really?" you shrug again, laughing and shaking your head, making him roll his eyes again before giving you a gentle push.

you take your camera off your neck, placing it on the bench, and walk closer to him, looking at him with warmth.raising your arms, you step forward. he sees this and prepares to stand up too, but you pause. "i don't know if i should... won’t it, i don’t know, cause you problems?"

he doesn’t answer. instead, he grabs your wrist, pulling you into an embrace. his arms wrap around you in an instant, the cold night wind blowing around you both, yet the comfortable silence remains.

jiyong rests his head on your shoulder. at first, you’re surprised, but you hug him back, pressing your face against his neck, feeling his warmth, his familiar scent, and his arms bringing that unforgettable sensation. you both close your eyes, drowning in each other’s presence.

the cold doesn’t matter at all—not when you both warm each other with memories of the past. spending time together, doing nothing on the couch, running on the beach, night walks, having dinner, comforting each other through past rejections, confusing emotions, bad situations, tears... even your first kiss, shared between the two of you.

all of it washes over you like an ocean wave, unearthing memories of a bond only the two of you understand—one that no one else will ever have anything similar to.

no matter how many people you and jiyong met along the way, your hearts and minds only ever spoke of each other. in every moment. no matter where you were, the only thought on your minds now was making up for lost time.

you don’t need words to understand what the other is thinking. despite 16 years passing, neither of you had lost your essence. personalities change, that’s a fact, but what lies deep inside—there is no amount of time that can alter that.

"thank you for looking for me, jiyong."

you pull away from the hug, cupping his face, caressing his cheeks. he closes his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch, placing his hand over yours.

"but in the end, it was me who found you."

a/n – sorry for not posting yesterday, I was busy and had no ideas, but today I posted! I hope you liked it, this time I wrote it listening to 'supernova love' by ive, this song makes me very melancholic... feel free to correct any grammar mistakes! thanks for reading! 🤍😞

[moonzzip]

dreams | kwon jiyong

a/n – I tried a new style for the story header, nothing special, just to make it cuter, the story is a little (very little) longer this time, I hope you like it! feel free to correct me about grammatical errors in the comments!

summary: jiyong gets stressed over things that aren't directly your fault.

pairing: jiyong x gn!member!reader

warnings: jiyong stressed, t.o.p, taeyang and daesung are in there, i think that's it

lowercase letters, word count: 1,7k

no, no, no.

there was no way he had dreamed about you, no chance, not LIKE THAT.

jiyong had always believed that dreams had some sort of meaning—good luck, a sign, or something else entirely, even things like déjà vu, which happened quite often. and you were involved in EVERY SINGLE ONE. as if he thought about you that much—he DOESN'T. he thinks... ugh, damn it! you're bringing too many thoughts into his head, and it's starting to put him in a bad mood.

jiyong ruffles his hair with frustration, walking back and forth in the practice room, sighing and muttering to himself, biting the thumbnail of his hand.

the floor always creaks annoyingly when he steps on that specific spot.

"jiyong, can you stop walkin' in circles? you're making me dizzy." the oldest member of the group complains. he and the other two, taeyang and daesung, had already given up on scolding him. this wasn’t the first time one of them tried to call him out, but it seemed to go in one ear and out the other with their leader.

the members were waiting for you to start practice. apparently, you had an issue with some clause in your contract renewal with YG, but nothing major. they figured that’s why jiyong was pacing around anxiously.

t.o.p, taeyang, and daesung were sitting on the floor, completely relaxed—any chance to rest was always welcome. but that didn't seem to be the case for g-d.

when it seemed like he was about to complete his 388th lap in that room, you finally opened the door.

"seriously, this took forever..." the moment you entered, jiyong's entire demeanor changed, though he kept his reaction silent. you were too busy complaining to notice.

"all this fuss over a random document, when all they had to do was look for it!" you grumbled, adjusting your clothes. the other members stood up, and you greeted them cheerfully, "hello, hello~"

t.o.p walked over to you, throwing an arm over your shoulders."so... everything worked out, right?" the eldest asked.

taeyang dusted off his pants and stepped closer as well, alongside daesung.

"well, since you don't look sad, I guess it did." he commented.

daesung suddenly jumped and let out a dramatic whine, "ahhhh~~ there would be no bigbang without ___, don't die on us, ___!" he shook you by the shoulders, making you laugh.

jiyong said nothing, but you could feel his gaze burning into your back. sensing his irritated aura, you rubbed your nose and pressed your lips together nervously, pretending to be clueless. then, quickly, you said:

"ah. I think we should start practice already. I feel like I took way too long."

you nodded to yourself as if agreeing with your own words.

the other members chuckled, stepping away to take their starting positions.

soon, the music began.

not even two minutes into the practice, and you could still feel jiyong's burning stare. it made you even more nervous, feeling guilty for the delay. that nervousness caused you to accidentally mess up one of the dance steps, and—damn—the air got stuck in your lungs.

everyone else froze in place, their breaths hitching. it wasn’t just you who felt jiyong’s irritation.

you stayed where you were, frozen in your mistake, and seconds later, you heard footsteps approaching. you shuddered, expecting harsh words fueled by the anger radiating off jiyong. you squeezed your eyes shut.

.

.

.

okay, and… nothing happened. he just walked past you.

none of you understood what was going on—not even jiyong.

he had been ready to tear into you for messing up, to completely rip you apart with words (he knew it wasn’t right, but his anger was louder). he was about to take everything out on you, but suddenly... he felt nervous. shy...?

he wanted to punch himself. what the hell was this? why was he feeling like this? the great g-dragon, embarrassed? even he was surprised he walked past you instead.

as he passed, his heart skipped a beat. his fingers tingled—no, his whole body tingled, even his ears.

this was definitely your fault. completely your fault! who gave you permission to appear in his dreams and act LIKE THAT??? now he was acting weird. he wasn’t even in control of himself anymore—one second, he did one thing, and the next, he did another. all of his anger had somehow transformed into partial embarrassment—the kind of embarrassment that comes when you do something stupid in front of someone you like—

like?

for a moment, that word felt wrong.

like? no...

like was too shallow, too undefined.

liking was like liking food, liking to relax, liking to swim.

no.

not like.

at that moment, jiyong decided that he love—

he stopped mid-step, whatever his body had been doing completely halted. his hand flew to his mouth in shock.

you, t.o.p, taeyang, and daesung all watched your leader press his hand to his forehead and bite his lips. he looked like he had just witnessed a murder in front of him. the guy paled about 300 shades lighter than his usual skin tone. he looked like a blank canvas, a brand-new sheet of white paper, untouched white paint—before the brush, before the mess, before it all blended into some unrecognizable color. white. you got it.

he let out a completely defeated sigh, disappointed in himself, and made the most disgusted expression you four had ever seen on a human being.

daesung let out a small snicker but quickly shut up, pressing his lips together to hold back laughter. you shot him a warning look that said, 'stay quiet, or he’ll kill you,' before turning back to jiyong.

your eyes locked with his, and immediately, you felt yourself go pale.

it was like getting punched in the stomach, shot in the chest, stabbed in the head, kicked in the shin. you felt like you had just been caught committing the worst crime imaginable, like YOU had said the most absurd thing a human could possibly say. that feeling, you know?

you saw jiyong point at himself, then at you, then at the practice room door.

knowing exactly what that meant, you nodded. and before you could process it, he was already walking out.

you felt pats on your back and squeezes on your shoulders—a clear farewell.

bastards. they weren’t even trying to save you from the dragon about to devour you.

"it was nice having you in the group, thank you very much." t.o.p’s deep voice declared.

"vip’s will be sad, but your departure is for the greater good." taeyang thought he was so funny—why didn’t he just open his own circus?

"just because I told you not to die, ___? do you have no survival instinct?" you had never heard such cruel words from daesung.

you shot them all a look of pure betrayal, "i’ll come back as a ghost and haunt all of you."

scanning them up and down in judgment, you clicked your tongue and made your way to the door.

for a brief second, you considered jumping out the window and running away. it could work—if only you weren’t on the fourth floor. so you scrapped that plan.

you opened the door. it even creaked, making you even more terrified, already mourning your own death. you hesitated, closing it for a moment, but then you opened it again and stepped out.

now it was too late.

why the hell did this hallway suddenly seem so dark and ominous?

you wondered that as you turned your head to the right.

there he was.

leaning against the wall about three meters away, near the company's vending machine. he didn’t even look at you, just kept his gaze lowered.

closing the door behind you, you stood in the hallway, frozen, gathering your courage. you swallowed hard and slowly walked toward him.

he still didn’t move.

you stop at the wall opposite to where he’s leaning, pressing your back against it as well. neither of you speaks, not yet.

“so… what do you want to tell me, jiyong?” you don’t even finish your sentence before he skillfully places one hand beside your body, trapping you against the wall.

“you’ve been disturbing me too much, ___. my patience is running out. seeing you irritates me, hearing your voice irritates me, your perfume—always the same—just catching a whiff of it irritates me. your laughter irritates me, knowing we’re in the same space irritates me. everything about you irritates me. everything you do irritates me.”

his deep, low voice echoes in your ears, sending shivers down your spine. you don’t say anything, just taking in his words, your face shifting through confusion, offense, shock, disbelief—all at the same time.

“i can’t take it anymore. you’re everywhere i go, like a magnet. i turn my head, and there you are. someone is always talking about you. everything is about you, you, you.”

jiyong mutters, his fingers pressing into the wall so hard they turn white. his eyes drop to the floor, teeth sinking into his lower lip. you stare at him, unsure of what to do, watching as his head tilts slightly to the side before dropping forward—until it rests on your shoulder.

you almost let out a sharp breath at the sudden contact, at the weight of his head against you, at the warmth of his breath ghosting over your neck. you swallow hard, your words completely failing you.

“i don’t know how to deal with you, ___.” his voice is quieter now, tinged with something deeper, something raw.

“i don’t know how to handle your presence. you don’t even have to enter the room, and my eyes are already on you. my chest melts when i hear you laugh, my cheeks get so hot it gives me a headache, your voice surrounds me, and i feel like i’m dreaming. everything about you makes me feel so comforted yet so flustered. i feel dizzy and lost just thinking about you.”

his lips are dangerously close to your ear now, his breath tickling your skin. your whole body feels like it’s on fire, your cheeks burning impossibly hot. and then, he says something that sends an inhuman wave of shivers through you:

“this is all your fault. you’re going to have to do something about it.”

a/n – i actually liked this story, i hope you liked it too! it made me want to become a member!reader and here I am... feel free to correct any grammar errors!

[moonzzip]

Hiya sorry to bother you but in the picture border thing for ‘thinkin bout you’ it’s actually not Gdragon/ ji-Yong it’s one of his fanboys

There’s nothing wrong with it I’m just letting you know 😋

Anyways your story’s are amazing and keep up the good work, love ya byeeeeee

OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE WARNING, i did some research just now and some information appeared that it was jiyong and others not, if it really isn't, wow, they are very similar, but as a precaution I changed the photo, thanks for the help my dear anon! 🤭☝🏼🤍

thank you for the supporting, it encourages me a lot, i have some new ideas and I'll start writing soon! 🤍🤏🏼

[moonzzip]

coffee and nail polish | kwon jiyong

a/n — i wanted something fluff with jiyong, less angst for you guys, I hope you like it! feel free to correct grammar mistakes kindly!

summary: you and jiyong haven't seen each other in weeks, you two relax.

pairing: jiyong x gn!reader

warnings: discreet mention of body shape, orange hair jiyong (i love it) , idol!(?)reader, mentioned bigbang, reader is kind of self-critical, slight comfort, fluff, slight crack

lowercase letters, word count: 1,4k

"jiyong, if you keep moving, i'm going to hit you." you say, biting your tongue in concentration, holding the tip of jiyong's finger with the tips of your own, while your other hand grips one of the brushes from the eight nail polishes you'd be using to paint his nails. he's sitting in a small armchair, and you're on the floor.

how did you two end up in this situation?

it had been about three and a half weeks since you last saw each other in person. bigbang had just made their latest comeback, and the promotions for it were much more intense compared to before—not that it was a bad thing, just overwhelmingly exhausting. the m/v had absolutely blown up, and you would consider it your favorite song of theirs if it weren’t for (your bigbang fav/ song), but that’s not important right now.

it wasn't just him who had been busy. you were tirelessly working toward your own debut, spending countless hours perfecting your dance, vocals, rap, and all the other things idols do as trainees. god, if only you had known how long m/v recordings took, you might have thought twice before becoming an idol. but seeing the final result made the exhaustion disappear almost instantly.

the fact that you both missed each other was undeniable.

you’ve known jiyong for a little over five years now. the difference between before and now is obvious—not just in his appearance, but in his personality as well. you remember that 2010 boy whose style was completely different, whose voice and personality had made a full 360-degree turn. his opinions changed, and he seems much more relaxed, much freer than when you first met him. especially now that he's focused on his new project, 'peaceminusone'—if you’re remembering it correctly.

you support him in everything he does, just as he supported you through your difficult trainee days—because he went through it too.

out of all the hair colors he’s had, this orange one is by far your favorite. you think about making a cute leaf-shaped hair clip for him so he can look like an actual tangerine.you chuckle at the thought.

"hey, what's so funny?" jiyong asks, looking at you.

"nothing, just thought of something funny," you reply. he gives you a slow once-over, his gaze filled with silent judgment.

"you're weird.", you pinch the top of his hand, nearly smudging the polish.

"i'm weird, but you're my friend, so you'll have to put up with me for a while longer. i'm not giving up that easily." you say confidently, met with silence. jiyong doesn’t deny it, just lets out a sarcastic scoff.

"i'll think twice before talking to weird trainees—" you pinch him again for moving, and he falls silent.

the atmosphere between you two is relaxed and calm. talking makes it even better, but the silence is just as comforting. neither of you feels the need to fill the space with constant conversation—it's just cozy.

"are you nervous? you know, about debuting?"

hearing his voice, you glance up at him before returning to painting his nails.

"a little… but i'm working on it." you exhale lightly, and jiyong watches you in silence.

"i want to give my best in this. i feel like there are expectations i need to surpass—i need to surpass myself, in general. i feel like i have to improve, i know i have to improve. not just for me, but for the group."

without realizing it, you release his hand.

even before meeting jiyong, you had always been an incredibly dedicated trainee (and you still are). you'd wake up before the practice room even opened, stretching in the hallway until they let you in. you followed a balanced diet—not starving yourself, just keeping yourself healthy. you always helped other trainees with their struggles, answering questions and giving advice based on what you had learned. you always had new tips to share because of your nightly study sessions, though you never stayed up too late. always punctual.

how did you meet him?

well... that’s a bit embarrassing.

on one of those late-night study sessions, you knew you shouldn’t have stayed up so long, but you felt like you were on an unstoppable roll, so you pushed through. but not before grabbing a coffee.

you silently left the dorm, careful not to wake anyone, and opened the door, planning to head to the vending machine at the end of the hallway near the practice room. one coffee wouldn’t hurt, right? …ah, such naivety.

it was dark everywhere except for a dim light coming from inside the practice room. you managed to navigate the hallway thanks to that weak glow slipping through the slightly ajar door.

since the door was old, it usually got stuck. you leaned against the wall and carefully made your way to it, leaning your body on it to continue on your way, but what you didn’t count on was the door deciding to function normally that night.

and on top of that, you tripped on a loose tile, throwing all your weight onto the door, and—

now—

you hit the floor with a loud thud, like a sack of potatoes.

you didn’t even think. your whole body ached, but you didn’t make a sound. your forehead hit the wooden floor, leaving you a bit dizzy but still conscious. and then you made a split-second decision: you'd just… pretend to be unconscious.

no one would bother you, you wouldn’t have to see who witnessed your humiliating fall, and that would spare you from any embarrassment. the position was even kind of comfortable, so it wouldn't be hard to keep up the act, and—

"i saw your foot move."

internally, you died. of shame, obviously.

oh. my. god.

you felt like the stupidest person alive.who, in their right mind, falls and then just stays on the floor pretending to pass out? you wanted to disappear, to die, to evaporate into thin air and be carried away by a nearby fan.

enough thinking.

"ahh…" you groaned, slowly getting on your knees, staring at the floor. "i think i blacked out for a second, hahaha."

you let out an awkward, robotic laugh, placing a hand on your forehead before looking up—and seeing him.

your eyes widened, not just because g-dragon, bigbang's leader, was standing in front of you, but because you were wearing the worst pair of pajamas in your closet.

why did you even come down in pajamas? you had no idea. but that was all your brain could focus on. your hand slid from your forehead to cover your eyes instead.

the universe hated you, you concluded.

the man just stared at you, confused, while his practice music still played softly in the background.

you shook your head, snapping out of your old memories.

you looked down at jiyong’s hand, but before you could grab his finger again, you felt a hand gently stroking your hair.

"i don’t think you should worry," his voice was calm.

your eyes lifted to meet his in silence.

"i don’t think there’s anyone i know who deserves to debut more than you. you’ve always worked hard, and you deserve this more than anyone. so don’t doubt yourself."

you just stared at him for a moment before letting out a soft, amused scoff.

"i guess so…"

and then, silence settled again. but jiyong's hand remained in your hair.

his chest ached hearing you speak about yourself like that. he didn’t fully understand the feeling, but he knew none of your efforts had been in vain. only he truly knew how much you pushed yourself.

just as you knew everything about him, he knew everything about you.

your bond had always been close—full of unconditional support and deep connection. hugs were common, physical touch between you two was natural. he loved hugging you and being hugged by you, just as you loved his hugs and giving him yours. you were always helping each other, always doing little favors, sharing an incomprehensible partnership filled with warmth and affection.

"jiyong, if your nail polish smudges because you're messing with my hair, i will kill you."

he said nothing, just rolled his eyes—but didn’t move his hand.and he smiled.

he had never been more grateful for an unbought coffee that night.

a/n – thanks for reading! I hope you liked it, I think all the ideas I have come from beyond... this time I wrote it listening to 'interlude : shadow' by yoongi, I love this song so much... feel free to correct me of any grammatical mistakes!

[moonzzip]

spill the tea | kwon jiyong

a/n – so, I wrote this during class, I couldn't pay attention, I was thinking too much about jiyong. I don't know if I'll do another part, it depends on your reaction, initially, I don't plan on doing pt.2, I'm enjoying doing a bit of angst so much, i don't understand... again, I just wrote what came to my head, the english is still kind of... bad, but I hope you like it!

everything has been lightly reviewed, please let me know of any grammar error/incorrect word!

summary: jiyong is anxious, very nervous about appearing on stage again in front of so many people, but you appear.

pairing: jiyong x gn!reader

warnings: a fair amount of self-deprecation, abusive work, mentions of anxiety, reader has confidence issues, angst, fluff

lowercase letters, word count: 1,1k (again)

spinning the rings on his fingers, jiyong’s palms sweat, and he unconsciously wipes them on his light pink pants. looking around absentmindedly, his thoughts race a mile a minute, and he exhales hurriedly.

hearing two soft knocks on the door, he looks at it, a bit confused.

“jiyong-nim?” you whisper, peeking in with only half of your face visible, your body still outside.

the man nods, giving you permission to enter. you smile softly and finally step inside.

“excuse me…” your voice is gentle, barely above a whisper, not wanting to be a bother. “since i know you like tea, i decided to make some and bring it to you.”

in your hand, you hold a metallic thermal bottle, and in the other, a small, delicate package of chocolate cookies you had baked just a few hours ago.

you can’t help but wonder how he must be feeling, returning to the stage after so many years. being part of his personal staff, you and the team always communicate with him directly.

well… not you. the others.

you never had the courage—nor the opportunity, really. not for lack of trying, but because of someone specific.

of course, the great g-dragon would have a highly qualified team of professionals. but you never felt like one of them, and that person made sure to remind you of your “proper place.” the moment jiyong turned his back, all of her frustrations were dumped onto you. maybe you were hired as a verbal punching bag for the “blessed being” without realizing it. it made you wonder if you had remembered to read the fine print.

she didn’t even bother to call you by your name—always using other names, but never yours.

of course, you had thought about reporting it, but someone as insignificant as you in this industry, compared to her—who is beloved and has more connections than you could count—who’s to say she wouldn’t send someone to get rid of you while you’re in the bathroom? you never know. you know they would never fire her. you losing your job would be much easier than any close employee of jiyong’s facing consequences.

you? a new hire? who gets stepped on by senior staff? reporting her and expecting her to be fired for abuse of power and verbal harassment—if that’s even considered a crime? never. only in your dreams.

you’ve always known that keeping quiet avoids unnecessary arguments, even if you constantly bite your tongue to hold back a sharp reply. you need this job to survive. the salary is too good, and you think you can endure a certain level of mistreatment. at the end of the day, you’re working for g-dragon.

kwon jiyong.

so, you put up with a little more.

you’ve always been someone who minds their own business, who hates being a burden, who puts effort and dedication into everything you do. that’s what got you here, and you won’t let nerves over trivial things get the best of you.

sometimes, you stop and wonder if it’s worth tolerating such ridiculous treatment. but then you remind yourself—you’re on your own. you handle things as best as you can with what you have.

just you and yourself.

you don’t remember having any true friendships you’d take with you for life. maybe some colleagues, but nothing like “i need a shoulder to lean on, can i talk to you?”

you don’t dwell on it. you don’t even seek that kind of connection anymore—you gave up long ago.

you care too much about what others think of you. you like leaving a good impression—being seen as reliable, always prepared, capable of doing whatever is asked of you.

but you also let people step on you—on your pride, almost on you, literally.

when did that become “okay”?

you have no idea. it feels like it’s always been this way. you’re invisible. never invited to anything. you watch others having fun, calling each other out for drinks, and you can’t even picture yourself in a situation like that.

honestly?

you silence your thoughts for now.

you hand him the tea and cookies, and he stands up, bowing politely, ever so charming. a small smile grace his beautiful face, bringing a subtle glow of admiration to your own, soon he sits down again.

“i tried making passion fruit tea with pomegranate… passion fruit helps with stress and mood, pomegranate helps with the throat in case of hoarseness or pain, and also—”

jiyong watches you ramble (your voice still soft and low, almost a whisper), his lips forming a small pout, eyes slightly wide, eyebrows subtly raised. one hand rests on his chin, legs crossed, elbow propped up.

for the first time since arriving here, he finds himself distracted, momentarily forgetting his nerves and anxiety.

thinking back, he realizes he has never interacted with you directly.

of course, he’s seen you around—always busy, whether carrying heavy boxes, taking notes from a distance, staying late to fix a loose button or sequin on his outfit, bringing drinks, coffee, and snacks for everyone (never personally handing them to him), and countless other tasks that he’s almost certain aren’t your responsibility.

he’s never seen you with anyone. a friend, or something like that.

not that he had noticed before.

but, you know, when people are close, it’s something you can feel.

jiyong’s thoughts (just like your rambling) are abruptly interrupted by the loud, sudden swing of the dressing room door.

both of your heads snap toward the sound.

“jiyo-ssi!! you’re up next, it’s packed today, hurry up!”

ah, it’s her. the very person who used you as her personal punching bag.

without so much as a polite greeting, she shoves you aside and grabs jiyong’s arm.

still surprised, he simply looks ahead as he’s dragged away in a rush.

you just stare down at your hands, now clasped together in front of you, until—

“___?”

startled, you look up—and see g-d smiling at you.

in your eyes, he glows.

“thank you so much. i feel a lot better now.”

his voice, deep yet gentle, carries the words, and suddenly, the world seems more colorful as you both look directly at each other.

have you ever noticed how beautiful his eyes are?

and then, the door closes.

you stay there, frozen, until your legs weaken, and you crouch down, placing a hand over your racing heart, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“…but you didn’t even drink the tea…” you murmur, embarrassed.

a/n – thanks for the positive reactions on 'thinkin' bout you'! I'm glad you liked it, it just makes me want to write more. this time I heard JK's 'still with you', it brought up a lot of feelings and I ended up pouring it all out in the reader's self-deprecating parts. Sorry not sorry. sorry again for my english, feel free to correct me kindly!

[moonzzip]

thinkin' bout you | kwon jiyong

a/n — so, this is a story I had an idea for out of the blue, I don't know if I'll post more, only time will tell, I enjoyed writing it and wanted a bit of jiyong's angst, now I'm sharing it, english is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes

summary: you wanted to help jiyong, but it didn't go as planned.

pairing: jiyong x gn!reader

warnings: bigbang debuted recently in this story, little angst, happy ending, small appearance of taeyang and daesung, indirect mention of t.o.p

lowercase letters, word count: 1,1k

when you walk into the practice room, your eyes go straight to the floor, seeing jiyong crouched down with sweat dripping from his temples, slightly out of breath. you sigh, “jiyong, that’s enough, right? you’ve been here for hours. if you keep pushing yourself to the limit, you might get hurt.”

your gaze shifts to the corner of the room, where empty water bottles are scattered—evidence of the countless hours jiyong has spent perfecting his dance. walking over, you pick up an unopened one and twist the cap off, making your way toward the man on the floor. “here, you need to dri—”

a sharp slap sends the bottle flying to the ground, its contents spilling instantly. you don’t even have time to react before he snaps, “shut up. stop bothering me. i’m busy right now.”

he runs a hand through his damp hair, sighing in frustration. “you don’t even know what i’m going through. you don’t know how hard it is to keep doing this for hours. if you didn’t have what it takes to debut, then just leave others alone and stop being a nuisance.”

you stare at jiyong in shock, completely speechless. he had never acted like this before. you knew he was stressed, but you still worried about him. before you can even process it, he’s already walking away, slamming the door behind him and leaving you alone in the practice room.

you stand there, blinking, unable to believe the words that just came out of your (former?) best friend’s mouth. you had always been there for him. you spent so much time by his side, sacrificing your own things just to help him—whether it was with his idol career or anything else. you had been there from the very beginning, even before jiyong met the other members of the group he always talked about.

looking down at your feet, unsure of how to react, your eyes land on the fallen water bottle. without thinking, you walk toward the small supply closet in the practice room to grab something to clean up the mess. as you wipe the floor, you feel your legs weaken. you crouch down, biting your lips hard as your eyes well up with tears. clutching your hair in anguish, you let go of the mop and cover your eyes with one hand, drowning in your own misery.

you don’t know how long you stayed there—it couldn’t have been too long—but eventually, you stand up and walk out of the dimly lit practice room, the setting sun casting long shadows across the floor.

as you descend the stairs to the company’s lobby, you pass by taeyang and daesung, who greet you cheerfully. “hey, ___! have you seen jiyong around?” taeyang asks, while daesung waves at you with a smile.

you glance at them, then simply shake your head with a neutral expression before continuing toward the exit. the two watch you walk away in silence.

“what do you think happened?” daesung wonders out loud, not really expecting an answer.

you walk aimlessly for about ten minutes, staring up at the starry sky. turning your head to the side, you see the vast han river, its waters reflecting the scattered stars above. approaching a nearby bench, you sit down, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your hoodie. leaning your head back against the bench, you exhale a shaky sigh, then lift your arm to cover your eyes, breathing heavily, lips trembling.

the sound of the wind fills your ears, drowning out everything else.

your arm slowly falls to your side, away from your face. your eyes remain closed.

“…aren’t you cold?”

your eyes snap open in an instant, locking onto the ones you sometimes admired in secret. the two of you stare at each other in silence. jiyong’s gaze lingers, waiting for your answer, while yours are wide with surprise. you blink, his breath faintly hitting your forehead due to how close he is when speaking.

for a small, minuscule, almost imperceptible moment, your eyes flicker to his lips—but you quickly look away.

you stand up from the bench, tilting your head just slightly to avoid bumping into his.

“…jiyong?” you whisper, noticing the cold air leaving your lips. how long had you been walking? you don’t know.

your eyes shift to the man in front of you, only a short distance separating you both, with the bench still between you.

silence.

but soon, you’re the one who looks away first, turning your gaze toward the river, where the moon’s reflection shimmers on the surface. even when you hear footsteps, you don’t look. jiyong stops beside you, but neither of you speaks—until he finally does.

“here.”

you turn your head, only to find something practically shoved into your face, blocking your view of him. your hands instinctively reach out, taking the small bag. you glance down at it, then realize what it is. your breath hitches, and your eyes glimmer slightly as a small smile tugs at your lips.

“ohhh~ kwon jiyong is giving me chocolates? that means you’re confessing your love for me, right?” you tease, grinning mischievously as you nudge him with your elbow.

before you can say anything else—

“…yes.”

your world stops.

everything freezes.

your eyes widen in shock. you’re completely paralyzed. and apparently, so is jiyong. the two of you stand there, speechless. your mouth hangs open. his does too—but he quickly covers it with his hand, as if unable to believe what he just said.

silence again.

you gently take his hand in yours, pulling it away from his lips.

“it’s okay, ji. i like you too.”

delicately, you hold his hand.

“i’m sorry, ___.”

you lift your eyes to his, but before you can say anything, he continues,

“i said things i shouldn’t have, and i hurt you. that’s the last thing i ever wanted to do. i was just stressed and couldn’t express myself the right way. i was frustrated—still am, actually—but now it’s because i said things that hurt you. i never meant them. i’ve never been good at expressing my feelings. and the way you take such good care of me… it made me confused. embarrassed. happy. warm.

i tried to distract myself by dancing—not just to improve, but to stop thinking about you, and i—”

his words are cut off by the soft touch of your lips against his.

gentle. warm. comforting.

but just as quickly as they came, they are gone.

jiyong stares at you in shock, his cheeks heating up as he processes what just happened.

you smile. “your speech was getting too long. i forgive you, you idiot.”

taking his hand in yours, you squeeze it lightly. “we should go get some ramen, just the two of us. the other three eat way too much—unless they’re paying this time.”

you start walking, pulling jiyong along with you.

he stares at your back, at your hand holding his, and he smiles—his heart warm, the cold from before completely forgotten.

a/n — I wrote this while listening to 'this love' by gd, I saw the m/v recently and I thought it was so... I don't know, a really good vibe to write, I hope you liked it! I have some difficulties with english so I used a translator to help me write it, but I hope it's not bad, thanks for reading!