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erospandemos · 10 months ago

Text

Some things never change

NewJeans Danielle x Reader

Where Danielle tries everything in her power to make you understand her feelings

Beta-reader: @leafostuff

You had known Danielle Marsh all your life, from when she was just a little kid to now that she's a fully grown adult, although her height kind of stopped halfway. You met her in the first days of elementary school. She must have looked weak to the other kids with her two missing teeth, thin legs, and pale complex, so a group of rascals started messing with her.

They would call her all sorts of names with their limited word knowledge, mocking her with gestures and weird sounds. They'd also push her around or make her trip and fall. Even though their mind was still limited, they already had a knack for bullying.

You happened to be around her when you witnessed one of those scenes. All it took was a slap and a threat and the kids fled away. It was just a normal thing for you, as fights were very common at that age but for Danielle, you were her saviour.

"Are you okay?" you asked her worryingly.

Amidst her sniffling, Danielle managed to reply, "Those bullies were teasing me. But you made them go away, so thank you."

You felt a bit bad about her. Her eyes were so red from crying and she kept rubbing her eyelids to dry those endless tears. "Don't worry Danielle. They will never tease you again. I'll always be here for you," you reassured her, not knowing what kind of promise you were making.

What followed were days, weeks, and months of annoyance. Danielle followed you everywhere you went, pestering you from the morning to the afternoon—always talking, always joking, always asking.

"Thank you for helping me!" she told you. "Jinyoung hasn't been mean to me anymore! I love you!"

You were annoyed. You let her talk and kept walking, "He was just being an ass. It's nothing special."

She began to be your shadow, a silent companion seeking solace. A girl looking for a friend, or at least that is what you and she thought. There was already something present in her heart but you just didn't know it yet. But kids learned quickly.

It was a random day in April when she made her first move.

"My parents taught me that I should hug the ones I love. Can I hug you?" Danielle asked you, her eyes earnest and pleading.

You were caught off guard but still nodded hesitantly. You opened your arms and she stopped closer, embracing you tightly. She found comfort in your warmth and kept you there close to her. You didn't know why she did that but you liked it too.

Then a couple of months later, you were invited to her house. You and her parents got to know each other and figured it would be a good occasion for you two to bond together. At her house, there was a very nice illustrated book for children. The kind to have small but enormous sentences. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement when she brought it out from her desk to show it to you.

"It's a story about a prince who married the princess he saved. Don't you think that it's so... cool?" She said, her eyes wondering between dreams and fantasies.

"Yeah, I guess," you replied. You didn't fully grasp the implication of the tale. You just liked the drawings.

"You saved me from the bullies, just like the prince. Maybe... maybe we could get married someday?" Danielle confessed, blushing.

You chuckled nervously, still oblivious and clueless.

Things also got more complicated when she caught you talking with a girl from your class.

"Who's she?" Danielle asked, laced with jealousy.

"Oh, this is my friend from the class, Seo-yeon," you introduced her, unaware of her stern demeanor.

"Well, she better not try to steal you away from me!" she declared, pouting and crossing her arms.

You laughed nervously again, not understanding what she was trying to say, and apologized the poor Seo-yeon who was receiving the possessive gave from Danielle.

That was more than ten years ago. But now that you were both grown up, things didn't change at all.

You're reading the book you've been saving up for weeks, finally free from the exam season of college. It's been a relaxing day, as it's been the first full break you could take and you decided to just replenish your energy by doing nothing all day. The day was good outside but you didn't feel like going out at all.

But you did not know that the outside would visit you instead.

A too-familiar figure barged into your room, with a familiar voice and force. "Hey! Your mom said I could come in. Hope you don't mind," Danielle exclaims.

You look up, surprised. You have to bid goodbye to your book because there was no way she would've left the house now.

"Uh, hey. No, not at all," you say, recollecting yourself. Looking around, you could see the mess the room was left in but after all the times your friend had seen, it wasn't much of a problem. You just left it as it was.

Danielle approaches, her grin widening as she eyes the book in your hands. She lowers her head and reads your title, not because she is interested, but because it could be a potential reason to tease you.

"What fascinating world are you escaping to today?" Danielle asks you.

Before you can respond, Danielle snatches the book away, dramatically flipping through the pages, not a word passing through her eyes.

"It's a great book, you know," you say before she can judge you. But that wasn't her intention. Danielle tosses the book aside and, with a sly grin, moves closer to you.

"Boys, your age don't really stay in their house all day, shouldn't you go outside?"

You raise your eyebrow. "What are you trying to say?

She clears her throat, "Well, you know, all boys go around picking girls, shouldn't you be interested in girls too? Especially me..."

"Books are interesting enough," you say, annoyed.

Danielle sighs heavily and slaps your shoulder. "You really don't get it do you...? Whatever," she says, "But do you know what's even more interesting than books?"

Without waiting for an answer, Danielle wraps her arm around you, pulling him into an unexpected side hug. You, visibly annoyed and embarrassed, squirm from the surprise and try to claw out of her grasp. But it just gets tighter. "Danielle, seriously, what are you doing?" you stutter.

Danielle chuckles, enjoying your annoyed remarks, and lets her other arm get you too.

"Just playing with you."

You try to pull away, but Danielle persists.

"Can we not do this right now?" you say. Danielle rolls her eyes and sighs before releasing you.

"Oh, come on. Just having a bit of fun," she says, pouting.

She playfully pokes your cheek and laughs.

"This is ridiculous."

Danielle seizes the opportunity and leans closer, circling your thighs. "You know, a little embarrassment never hurt anyone," she says and eyes you up and down, locking her eyes with yours. "Besides, you're kinda cute when you're flustered."

You groan, covering your face with your hands. "Why are you doing this???"

She laughs, finally satisfied, and lets herself fall on the couch. "You know," she speaks truthfully, "there's something about you that's just too irresistible."

"Yeah, you aren't the only one."

Suddenly, you feel Danielle's intense gaze on you. "Who else is teasing you? Girls?"

"Sometimes?"

"Oh, that's not good. They have to know you're taken."

You raise an eyebrow. You don't sense anything good coming. "What are you talking about now?"

"I was thinking, maybe I should leave my scent on you. You know, like marking my territory. That way, other girls will know you're taken."

You blink repeatedly, utterly bewildered.

"Leave your scent? Danielle, we're not animals."

Danielle chuckles.

"Just imagine it – you walk into a room, and everyone's like, –Oh, they smell like Danielle. They're off the market!–"

"You've been watching too many nature documentaries."

"Shut up and come here."

Danielle snuggles closer, her energy warming the room and your body. You feel her arms quickly wrapping around your body and her legs tangling into yours and before you knew it, she was already spooning you. After all these years of doing so, she has gotten quite good at it. "You know, you really should loosen up. It's just a cuddle between old friends."

You shift uncomfortably, a bit against her although her lively insistence was stronger than your will. "Danielle, seriously, we're not kids anymore. We can't just... cuddle like this."

She tilts her head, studying you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Come on! Don't be such a grown-up. We used to do this all the time when we were kids. It's nostalgic!"

You sigh, giving in a bit. "Yeah, but things are different now."

Danielle was a slim girl, petite. She felt small although you were the one under her grasp, and her limbs were delicate and fragile. She felt small but soft as well. She was an adult now, and her touch made your heart beat faster, in a way it never did.

Danielle grins, unphased. "Different doesn't have to mean worse."

"But seriously," Danielle says with curiosity, "you used to be the one initiating these cuddle sessions. What happened to that fearless little kid?"

You blush, a rare occurrence for the reserved you. "Well, things change. People change."

Danielle's eyes soften, and she nudges you gently. You can smell her perfume and it calms you. "Change isn't always bad, you know."

You can't help but smile at her infectious enthusiasm. Danielle, her head still nestled against your shoulder, can't resist the opportunity to tease you. "You know, I always thought you were the bravest little knight in our little adventures when we were young."

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "A knight, huh? I'm not sure I see the resemblance."

Danielle chuckles, tracing imaginary patterns on your arm. A soft red starts to appear on your cheek. "Oh, please! You were my protector, always ready to face imaginary dragons and monsters. What happened to that fearless warrior?"

"Well, maybe I outgrew the knight phase."

Danielle leans back, looking at you with a sly grin. "Outgrew, or maybe you're just afraid to admit that deep down, you still have a bit of that brave knight in you."

You roll your eyes, but a small smile lingers on your face.

"Did you remember when I told you I'd be your princess? I still mean it you know?" she says, as if it was nothing.

You realize the meaning of her words and can't fathom any response, and Danielle can't help but enjoy the gentle blush that colors your cheeks. She teases you further, "You're blushing, Mr. Grown-up. Who would've thought the mighty knight would be so easily flustered?"

You mumble something incoherent, avoiding her gaze.

That was typical of you and your friend: constant teasing and joking. But you knew you wanted something more from her and you were just running around, trying to avoid it. One day, however, it finally came to you, knocking at your door, and you had to face it head-on.

You hear a loud frantic knocking on your door. The sudden noise surprises you and you get slowly, weary of who might be on the other end. The knocking doesn't stop and you look into the peephole. To your surprise, it wasn't a killer coming for you but it was your friend, Danielle, and from the looks of it, with her disheveled hair and tired eyes, she wasn't looking so good. You open the door and she bursts inside your apartment, drenched from head to toe, dripping water everywhere.

"Whoa, Danielle! What happened to you?" you exclaim.

She shakes herself like a wet dog, sending droplets flying, and brushes her wet strands away from her forehead to look at you in the eyes. "Caught in a sudden downpour. I practically swam here!"

You chuckle and walk to the bathroom. "Don't move!" you tell her as you go grab some towels. You don't want her wetting the whole house as well. "Well, you certainly look like you went for a swim."

Danielle takes the towel, but instead of immediately drying off, she shoots you a mischievous grin. "You look quite excited about seeing me, don't you?"

You raise an eyebrow and look at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

Danielle pretends to inspect her soaked clothes with exaggerated concern, scanning her shirt, and her skirt. She opens her arms and invites you to look at her clothes. "Oh, no. I think these clothes might be see-through now. But I'm sure you already noticed. I can feel you glued on me."

You immediately understand what she's trying to say. You roll your eyes and grow. "Danielle, come on. Don't be ridiculous."

She smirks, wringing out her hair over the towel. "Ridiculous? Or am I just giving you a little peek? You know it's fine. I didn't tell you not to look."

You blush, trying to play it cool. "You're impossible. I'm lucky it's just the two of us. Otherwise, I might get in trouble." You hate to agree with Danielle, but it was impossible for you not to notice her figure, perfectly feminine, perfectly grown, and perfectly beautiful. You gulp loudly and stare at the wall.

Danielle giggles, sauntering over to me with a playful twirl of her wet hair. "Well, I can't let you miss out on the view, can I?" She laughs again as you shoot a quick sideeye at her. "Oh, did I catch you looking again?"

"Come on! No, I didn't."

Danielle comes closer, she's having fun, too much fun. She sways her hips, brushing your chest, leaving wet handprints on your shirt and looks at you with such a teasing smile that you couldn't do anything but blush and back intot he wall. "Oh, don't look away, baby."

"Danielle, cut it out," you stammer, my cheeks turning a deeper shade of red.

She leans in, her voice dropping to a sultrier tone. "What's the matter? Don't tell me you're not enjoying this."

You try to look away, but Danielle continues to playfully tease you. Then she laughs, finally satisfied.

"Okay, okay, I'm just messing with you!" she confesses, wiping away a tear of laughter. "I couldn't resist seeing you squirm."

You sigh in relief, but your embarrassment lingers. "You're unbelievable, Danielle."

She giggles while running away.

You go to your room to pick up some clothes for her, unfortunately you got nothing else to give her but your own clothes. You try the smallest size possible, so at least she wouldn't have to swim in them. You smell them first, to make sure, she won't be annoyed by an unwanted smell, then think if she'd feel cold or not—the house was quite warm on the inside. You knew she always liked to wear shorts, so you get a pair and a shirt and sweater to match.

You hand her the clothes, "Here, these should be more comfortable than wet clothes."

Danielle, takes them and smiles brightly. "Oh, I didn't know you were such a considerate boyfriend," she says. You start blushing but this time she's blushing too between her creased cheeks. You chuckle nervously, dismissing the comment.

"It's nothing," you say and then point the bathroom. "You've already been here before. Go change there or take a shower if you want."

"I'll just change, thank you. Don't peek at me though, okay?"

"What are you saying? Of course I won't," you reply.

She grins and runs into the bathroom to put on your outfit. It doesn't take her a while before she emerges wearing your oversized hoodie and shorts, her hair slightly toused. You have to admit, she looked adorable. The way the hoodie was way too big for her, and how the shorts let you peek at her legs, it was amazing.

It almost looked like she was your girlfriend, and she knew it too.

"Look at me, wearing your clothes," she says, raising her arms. "It's like we're in some romantic drama."

"It's just because your clothes are wet. Don't read too much into it."

Danielle continues, batting her eyelashes dramatically. She looks at you with wide eyes. "You've never offered me your clothes before. Are you sure you're not secretly seeing me as your girlfriend?"

"Don't be ridiculous. It's just clothes," you say, but her words can't leave your mind. You almost agreed.

"But these clothes smell like you," she says, taking a sniff at it. You blush brightly. "Am I stealing your scent now?"

The situation looks absurd and you're getting more and more flustered but still, you had to keep your cool. "Don't overthink it."

She bursts into laughing and jumps into the couch. "You're so cute when you deny things. Maybe I should keep wearing your clothes more often."

Trying to hide his embarrassment, you manage a weak smile. "Sure, Dani, make yourself at home."

You and Danielle keep joking around until something starts to bother your friend. She looks at the sky, more precisely at the rain, as it runs down the window, and her smile starts to fade.

Danielle turns to you and her face drops into a malinconic gaze, her eyes are half there, they're thinking about something else, but you feel the weight on you. "You know, I'm starting to feel like a fool," she says with a sigh.

You blink, taken aback by the sudden intensity in her tone. "What do you mean?"

Danielle paces the room, her agitation pouring out with every step. "You've known for ages how I feel about you. I've dropped hints, practically spelled it out, and yet you never do anything."

Bewildered, you look at her. You couldn't lie to her, you wish you could say you never realized it, but you did. You did know she was flirting with you and you did hear what she told you, clearly and explicitly. But you didn't want to accept it, you didn't want to believe it. "I... I don't realize you feel that way. I think we're just really good friends," you say and truly, you didn't think a girl like her would have any serious intentions behind her smile.

She halts, turning to face you, frustration etched on her features. "Really good friends? You and I spend hours together, we share our deepest thoughts, and I've been giving you every possible sign that I like you. How do you miss it?"

You stammer, attempting to find the right words. "I don't think... I mean, I think you're just being friendly. I never imagined you feel something more. I thought you were just messing with me."

Danielle sighs."That's the problem. You never imagine. You never consider the possibility that my feelings might extend beyond friendship. I've been dropping hints, practically shouting them, and you remain oblivious. Did it ever go through your mind?"

You run a hand through your hair, frustration mirrored in your eyes. "I never mean to hurt you, Danielle. I just... I didn't see it."

Her eyes narrow, the pent-up frustration reaching its peak. "That's precisely it. You don't see it. You never see me. It's like I've been invisible, and no matter how much I hint, you never make a move."

Danielle's words knock the air out of your lungs. You've never seen Danielle this riled up and it hurt you to know you were the cause. You take a moment to trace back your words. Have you ever imagined a life with her? Have you ever wanted to have her to yourself? Have you ever desired her?

The answer was yes. You think deeply if it was fair for you to say that only after she basically begged you to acknowledge her, but it was true, you did like her and you didn't know you were allowed to.

Danielle takes another deep breath, attempting to compose herself, but the frustration continues to spill out. "I've liked you for so long. I think you might feel the same way, but you never make a move. I've been stuck in this limbo, unsure if you even see me as more than a friend. It's driving me insane."

Your eyes soften, a mix of regret and realization settling in. "I didn't mean to make you feel invisible, Danielle. I've just been clueless, and I'm sorry if I hurt you."

She shakes her head, her frustration giving way to a sense of vulnerability. "It's not just about now. It's about all those moments before, the missed opportunities. I can't keep waiting for something that might never happen."

As Danielle's words linger in the air, a heavy silence envelops the room, punctuated only by the sound of rain tapping against the window.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Danielle," you begin. "I've been so focused on convincing myself that you couldn't possibly feel that way about me, that I never stopped to consider how you might be feeling. I'm sorry for not seeing what was right in front of me."

Danielle's gaze softens, a mix of frustration and hurt still lingering. "You're not off the hook that easily. You can't just apologize and expect me to believe you."

You nod. "You're right. I messed up, and I can't change that. But I can be honest with you now. The truth is, I've been afraid. Afraid of ruining our friendship, afraid of facing my own feelings. It's not an excuse, just an explanation."

Danielle raises an eyebrow and folds her arms. "Afraid? You?"

You chuckle wryly. "Fear doesn't always make sense. And I guess I've been scared of admitting that I like you too."

Her eyes widen, she's surprised "You do?"

You nod, your vulnerability laid bare. You hope you didn't make a mistake but you couldn't hold it in, it was now or never. "Yes, Danielle. I do. I've liked you for a while, but I never thought you could feel the same way. I convinced myself it was just a dream."

She tilts her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "So, Mr. Fearless finally admits he's not invincible."

You grin, the tension between you starting to dissipate.

Danielle steps closer, a playful glint in her eyes. As the rain outside continues its rhythmic dance, Danielle takes your hand. "No more hiding, okay? Let's figure this out together."

And for the first time, you hug her first. Your hand gently pulls her and she lets herself go, straight into your arms. You hug her softly, but with passion, with happiness. Danielle does the same, for the first time, not to tease you and not to try to make you fall in love because for once, she knows in her heart you truly love her.

THE END

Written, 16 February - 22 February 2024

#Kpop #Kpop fluff #newjeans hanni #Newjeans #Danielle #newjeans danielle #Danielle fluff

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prettywordsyouleft · 2 months ago

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Missed Me?

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x female reader

Genre: fluff

Tropes: established relationship (of sorts)

Warnings: a tiny bit of 4th wall writing at the very end.

Word count: 849

Author’s Note: he’s back, and my heart and mind wasn’t prepared for how loud he’d be about it *rolls eyes*

Glancing up, you blinked in rapid succession before letting out a groan.

The man leaning against the doorframe pretended not to know why you had reacted like that at the mere sight of him, asking a soft “what?” in response. And yet, you saw the mirth within his dark gaze, the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes giving him away. He was pleased to have you reacting to him again.

“Nope,” you declared, shaking your head to accompany the statement. “Absolutely not.”

“Haven’t you missed me?”

“Me? Miss you?” You forced out a laugh that rang somewhat hollow. But Park Jinyoung didn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing you had thought of him often over the past eighteen months. You wouldn’t let it out that you would pause mid-action at times considering how he would have loved to be there in the moment. How you would hear something, and your immediate response was to contact him and tell him so. Late at night, when the darkness was your only companion, how you longed to be a little less lonely and curled up within his warm embrace. You had chosen to take his departure from your life as a clean break. And he didn’t need to know how much you had failed within your heart and mind to truly escape him.

A raised eyebrow in your direction made you sputter incoherently. He was too observant. You wondered how much your expression had given your pondering away. Jinyoung folded his arms across his chest, his toned physique making for quite a beautiful and distracting imagery. “Really? Not even a little?”

“Of course not! I was completely fine without you,” you lied with a straight face – at least you hoped so – and made a shooing gesture with your hand. “Stop leaning on the threshold. You’re not the main protagonist of my life, so you don’t need to do what main male characters do in fictional stories.”

He almost succeeded in keeping the smirk from truly crossing his lips, instead turning to his acting skills and crossing the room towards you with a pout gracing his annoyingly kissable lips. You immediately diverted your gaze to your laptop, then to your phone, failing to unlock it with your fingerprint, which flustered you further.

Curse him into damnation.

“I missed you,” he announced, and you flinched, equally being acutely aware of his proximity and not yet ready for the closeness of his earnest statement. His hand lifted to your chin and guided your focus back to his face. Oh, how you had yearned to see this man up close and in person again. You blinked several times, and he continued to pout. “I missed you so much it hurt.”

“You’ve clearly survived.”

“Did I?” he questioned, waiting to see how you’d respond. He let out a sigh when you didn’t take his bait. “I don’t know how you could do it, Y/N. A clean break from me? You’re stronger than I am.”

You narrowed your gaze. “We did have a clean break.”

“Did we? I beg to differ.”

“We did! I haven’t seen you once since you went away.”

“Not in person, no. But I’ve been following you on social media.”

You huffed, straightening to your full height. “You and social media?! It was like a ghost town with you over the past eighteen months! I had to resort to looking for glimpses in—!”

You clamped your hands over your mouth at what he had managed to weasel out of you and diverted your gaze once again.

A rich, melodious laughter rumbled out of Jinyoung, and you cursed your traitorous heart for swooning at the sound, revelling at hearing it again. Then your heart stalled altogether when his strong arms encased you, tugging you flush against his warm body.

“What am I going to do with you?” Jinyoung mused, his hand reaching up to your hair and ruffling it affectionately. “You know, normal people are elated when someone they love returns home. They bounce right into the arms of their lover and proclaim just how much they love and missed them. But not you. ‘Nope. Absolutely not?’ Of course, you would say something so ridiculous.”

“Well!” you grumbled out indignantly. “I wasn’t expecting you to be there.”

“You know me too well, sweetheart,” he claimed, pulling you back from him enough so he could gaze down at you, a bright smile gracing his handsome face. “You should have expected at the first chance I got that I would be back in your life.”

“As loud as ever,” you muttered.

However, this time, it was you who moved first, burying yourself deeper into his embrace, feeling his laughter vibrate up through his chest. Closing your eyes, you inhaled deeply, allowing yourself the moment of reacclimatising with your one true nemesis.

And truest love.

“And to think,” he started, making you grow rigid at what could possibly follow. “You haven’t really been writing of late. All I had to do was come back and now look at you. A whole story. All because of me.”

_________________

[GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist]

#kwritersworldnet #park jinyoung fiction #park jinyoung fanfic #park jinyoung scenarios #park jinyoung fluff #park jinyoung au #jinyoung fanfic #jinyoung scenarios #jinyoung fiction #jinyoung fluff #got7 fiction #got7 fanfic #got7 scenarios #got7 fluff #kpop fiction #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #prettywordsyouleft

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4ranghaes · 27 days ago

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heyy can i request bsf since diaper! myung jaehyun and fem! reader which they're finally meet each other after a long time and decided to hit the club then some guy try to talk or flirt with her and suddenly jaehyun become so protactive as if she's a child but obvi jaehyun got a crush on her (spoiler: he always stalk her social media and thats how he got his crush on her although its been awhile since they met) idk the thought of unserious jaehyun become protactive is cute tho hehehe. anw thank you in advance!! love ur writing sm!!

myung jaehyun x reader [fluff, fem!reader, jealous!bsf!myungjae]

a/n - hiya anonnie, of course!!!! i hope you enjoy💓💓

00:24 - “for old times’ sake?”

jaehyun rolled his eyes, getting up off the sofa, your relentless begging having worn him down, “fine, fine. there’s a club a couple streets down from here. i’ve been with the boys a couple times, it’s good.”

“yes! jaehyun thank you! thank you thank you thank you!” you cheered, jumping up and down, kissing your friend on the cheek before running to his bedroom to check your appearance.

riwoo gave him a knowing look, jaehyun just rolling his eyes as he shrugged him off. “stop looking at me like that.”

riwoo held in a laugh, shrugging, “just thinking about how you almost bit sungho’s head off when he complemented her earlier. hope you enjoy the club!”

the boy shook his head, watching you emerge from his bedroom in a totally new outfit; short skirt, small top, and one of jaehyun’s mesh overshirts hanging over top. he swallowed, his mouth hanging open.

“is this okay?” you asked, posing in the doorway.

jaehyun just nodded quickly as you cheered, “come on, let’s go then! it’ll be too expensive past 1am.”

“o-okay,” he stuttered, gathering his keys and shoving his essentials in his pockets, waving goodbye to riwoo.

“i mean don’t you think it’s fun? the last time we saw each other we were still bathing together, and now we’re clubbing!”

myungjae chuckled, “yeah our mums would be so proud.”

you laughed, walking close to him the whole way to the club, your arms touching as the alcohol you’d steadily had throughout the night seemed to hit you. the two of you had been planning this meet up for months, and finally you’d arrived in yongsan last night, the dorm door being flung open to jaehyun’s wide smile - the same one you recognised from all those years ago.

jaehyun watched now as you, a grown woman, stood ahead of him in line for the club. he’d always had a crush on you, even when he was 5 and you were 4, running round the back garden naked together, bathing together, walking to school together - he’d liked you. he’d kept up with you online of course, even over the years of various moves separating the two of you, he watched from a distance as you grew and matured. his heart fluttered opening the door for you yesterday - he didn’t want to admit it, but he still liked you now.

“okay, drinks, or dance floor?” you shouted, mouth next to his ear as the two of you entered the club, surveying the scene.

“why don’t you get a table and i’ll get some drinks?” jaehyun offered, holding your hair back with a gentle hand as he did the same to you, “i’m not drunk enough yet!”

you giggled, nodding as you found an empty table, guarding your territory. jaehyun tried to be quick with the drinks, glancing back over to you several times to check you were safe.

“two jack cokes please,” he ordered, leaning against the bar as he quickly looked back to where you were. now with a man? he strained his neck, squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look. he could feel his anger rising.

“here you are,” the bartender said, snapping him out of his daze as he handed over two cups. jaehyun took them quickly, rushing over to where you were.

slamming them down on the table, he looked up at you expectantly.

“oh myungjae!” you exclaimed, “this is jinyoung.”

“you two know each other?” he asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“no,” jinyoung shrugged, looking at jaehyun with competition in his eyes. jaehyun narrowed his eyes at him. jinyoung pointed to the drinks as you took your cup. “didn’t get me one, mate?”

“well, we actually just came out the two of us so…”

“oh i can get you one!” you smiled, jumping up from the seat before jaehyun shoved your body back down.

“he can get it himself, y/n,” jaehyun said, not taking his eyes off jinyoung.

“yeah, don’t worry darling,” he spoke, smiling at you, “i’ll buy your one too, hey?”

jaehyun was mouthing curses after the man as he sauntered over to the bar.

“what are you doing?!” jaehyun exclaimed, grabbing your arm.

“what? he’s nice!”

“you don’t know him!” jaehyun yelled, looking at you exasperated, “you’re not taking that drink either.”

you rolled your eyes, brushing him off and walking to the dance floor. you looked back to jaehyun, still stood against the table, tilting your head in invitation as you started to dance. jaehyun stood watching for a while, fighting a smile on his face as he watched your body move. eventually, he downed his drink, making his way over to you. a smile spread across your face when he reached you, jaehyun’s hand moving to your hip as they moved with the music. jealousy was never a good emotion, except maybe when he needed to make a move.

“you’re gorgeous,” he spoke, not taking his eyes off you. you read his lips, barely able to hear him over the blaring music. you stopped for a moment, before looping your arms round his neck.

“you’re not too bad yourself, myung,” you laughed.

jaehyun broke into a smile, “really?”

you nodded, “really.”

he eyed you cautiously before beginning to move in. he was slow and steady, before realising you were also moving towards him; he smashed his lips to yours, letting out a disbelieving laugh into the kiss. you smiled into his lips, body still moving to the song.

jaehyun pulled away, grinning like an idiot as he started to dance with you. you laughed, grabbing his face to pull him again, starting to make out with him.

“you’re not just drunk right?!” he exclaimed, pulling away suddenly.

“barely drank at all,” you yelled back, dragging a hand through his hair.

you saw jinyoung making his way through the crowd towards you with a smile as you rolled your eyes; you only interacted with him to make jaehyun jealous in the first place.

“kiss me again!”

“huh?!”

“again, jaehyun!”

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neomujinjja · 10 months ago

Text

Come Back Safe

Pairing: Park Chanyoung x reader

Length: 885 words Genre: imagine, reunion, fluff(?)

Warnings: not edited, pre sweet home events, reference to enlistment, vague mention of celebrity treatment during enlistment, mentions of guns, cursing, crying

Synopsis: You and your boyfriend were only supposed to part for a little while for his enlistment. But with the outbreak, you're not even sure of his status. And yet, the world works in mysterious ways.

Note: Because it felt too soon/too close to home to write this for woodz. But hey! sweet home 💃; also jinyoung is insane in the left picture 😵‍💫. I don't know when Chanyoung is said to be enlisted but I assumed it would be some months before the events of Sweet Home S1 happen.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Are you sure you're okay with waiting for me?" Chanyoung asked as he set his bags down. The two of you had just became exclusive; you had been on dates with one another but only decided on your relationship recently.

"Yes, you just focus on getting back to me safely" you told him with a nod and smile. You were scared for him, that he'd be treated badly due to his celebrity status or become hurt at some point during his enlistment. Chanyoung hummed before pulling you into a hug.

"I will be. Promise me that you'll keep yourself safe as well" he said before pecking whatever he could reach. You hit him on the shoulder and laughed.

"What the worse that could happen to me in the civilian world?"

"Just promise me. It'll make me feel at ease."

"Okay. I promise~" You pulled away to place your pinky finger between you. The baseball star snickered as he interlocked his into yours. He pressed a kiss onto your lips with a smile.

"Seal it with a kiss" Chanyoung whispered before pulling entirely away from you. You stood in a slight stupor at his actions, that was insanely smooth. You complained at him, explaining he shouldn't tease you before leaving for roughly two years. The enlisted male only laughed, playfully grabbing your hands to fight you off. The two of you struggling against the other whilst your stomaches began to ache from the fits of laughter. Chanyoung relaxed his arms, allowing you to lean in close to his chest, the two of you successfully out of breath. "Okay, I've really got to get going" he panted as he released your arms and sat to put his boots on properly. You watched as he did so, continuing until he had all of his bags gathered up and was opening the door.

"Be safe, I mean it" you told him, leaning onto the door frame. You knew that it was just bad timing and there was nothing you could do, but you wished you didn't have to be separated from your boyfriend so early on. Chanyoung saluted with a smile before blowing a kiss and heading down your apartment complex hallway. The two of you decided that it'd be best for you not to send him off at the gate to avoid dealing with the news tabloids; meaning this would be the last time you'd see him until his break or a visit.

'Shit!' you cursed in your mind. You had thought that moving early in the morning would prevent you from meeting others. You were especially trying to avoid soldiers, the civilians were bad enough, you didn't need to deal with people with gun access. Hiding behind a pillar, you thought about what your next move would be. The sound of voices caught your attention, you whipped your head in the direction it came from. Listening in to their conversation, you let out a sigh of relief at the their addressing. Watching the two males on the balcony, you decided to head inside the building anyway; any medicine you could get your hands on would do some good in the long run making it worth the risk.

'Fuck' you cursed in your head once again. You hadn't seen the tray behind you; and of course, your elbow bumped it causing it to crash to the floor. You turned your head in the door's direction, praying silently that no one would come to check it out. Though it would be a death sentence to not a noise out in recent events.

"I thought the building was empty?" a female voice asked.

"I'm not sure. Stay here, I'll check" a male voice responded. You heard the female scoff at his words but she didn't make anymore verbal protest. The room you managed to sneak and ransack was barren of any hiding spots. Running a hand through your hair, you closed your eyes with no choice but to accept whatever fate that came. "Who are you?" the male asked.

"Human" was the only thing you said as you opened your eyes again. You were left shocked by the person standing in the doorway. Standing there was Chanyoung pointing a weapon in your face. Your boyfriend was alive, seemingly safe and sound, with a gun trained on you.

"Y/N?"

"Chanyoung?"

The two of you spoke at the same time. The former baseball player lowered his weapon, staring at your figure in similar shock.

"Where have you been this whole time?" Chanyoung exclaimed as he practically threw the gun to the side. You said nothing as he strides closer to you. "Are you okay? Have you been safe?" the male asked. Chanyoung grabbed you, checking over what he could see for any visible injuries. He pulled you into a hug when he didn't find any, his right hand caressing your hair. You brought your hands up, lightly setting them onto the male's lower back. You began shaking as you released tears, one's of relief and frustration. "What's wrong?" Chanyoung panicked as he tried to pull away but you held onto his clothing.

"You're safe. You came back safe, you kept our promise" you whispered in between your sniffles. You ignored your boyfriend's coos as you buried yourself deeper into his arms.

#sweet home 2 #sweet home chanyoung #park chanyoung #sweet home x reader #sweet home imagines #sweet home 2 imagines #park chanyoung x reader #b1a4 #b1a4 jinyoung #jinyoung x reader #jinyoung imagine #b1a4 jinyoung imagine #kdrama imagine #kdrama x reader #kdrama x poc reader

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koiiiji · 3 months ago

Text

unspoken confessions

author's note ; request was quite long so i cut it to certain scenario if you don't mind!! also @aline1701 thank you for endless patience and support!! this is special for you!!

tw ; mentions of alcohol, drunk, little suggestive, kinda friends to lovers, angst

₊‧.°.⋆💭•˚₊‧⋆.

neon lights flickered outside as laughter and music spilled from the small, dimly lit room where the members of the Gapryong Fist gang had gathered. it was a night of celebration, a rare reprieve from the chaos of their daily lives. Jinyoung Park leaned against the wall, a drink in hand, his heart racing not from the alcohol but from the presence of one person in particular.

you were there, laughing with the others, your smile bright and infectious. Jinyoung watched you from a distance, taking in the way your hair caught the light, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief. the ache in his chest intensified — a love he had buried deep, afraid to ruin the friendship that meant everything to him.

“hey, Jinyoung! come join us!” one of the gang members shouted, pulling him from his thoughts. he forced a smile, raising his drink in acknowledgment but remained rooted in his spot, preferring to observe rather than participate.

suddenly, he felt a strong arm wrapped around his neck, and someone's heavy weight fell on his shoulders. “hey Jinyoung, do you know that sitting here in the corner with a pussy face ruin the whole atmosphere?” Gapryong whine right into his ear.

but following his friend's gaze, his expression and tone immediately changed to a conspiratorial smile and a whisper “ah, i think i know what was on our little Jinyoung’s mind..” the leader said, poking his friend in ribs. “or should i say particular someone?” Gapryong guffawed, following his friend's gaze again.

now they were both watching Tom Lee unsuccessfully trying to make attempts to flirt with miss Kim, but you two were just trying live your happy lives and save your evening by completely ignoring the huge man.

smiling to himself, Jinyoung shrugged off his boss's arm, replying, “don't talk nonsense, we're just friends,” leaving Gapryong there, without a chance to discuss the need to tell a woman about his feelings...

as the night wore on, the energy shifted. drinks flowed freely, and laughter turned into raucous shouts. Jinyoung found himself downing shots alongside you, the alcohol blurring the edges of his inhibitions. the world felt hazy and bright, and he could no longer tell where the laughter ended and the warmth of your presence began.

“Jinyoung, you’re such a lightweight!” you teased, nudging him playfully as he swayed slightly. he laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep within, and for the first time that night, he felt free.

“maybe i’m just saving my energy for the after-party,” he joked, his words slurring slightly. you leaned closer, your cheeks flushed from the alcohol, and Jinyoung felt the pull between you intensifying.

whole gang continued to party, but as the clock struck midnight, many began to stumble out, unable to keep up with the pace of the night. just as two of you. eventually, you and Jinyoung left the building too, both of you unable to stand straight, you made your way to his home and only God knows how you two did it without hurting yourselves.

“mmhm hey, you okay?” you asked, as you entered his apartments, swaying slightly, your voice a melodic drawl. Jinyoung nodded, though he could barely keep his thoughts straight. “yeah… just… taking it all in.”

you moved closer, the warmth of your body radiating against his. “you’ve been so serious whole evening!!! let looooose a little!” you murmur into his chest, your words were playful, and Jinyoung could feel how your breasts pressed against his chest. he swallowed noisily.

before he could respond, you leaned in, your breath warm against his skin. “what if we just… forget about everything for a night?”

his heart raced as desire surged through him, amplified by the alcohol coursing through his veins. “what do you mean?” he stammered, but before he could think, your lips were on his, soft and tentative. the world around them melted away, and Jinyoung kissed you back, feeling the electric rush of adrenaline and the intoxicating thrill of crossing a line he had never dared to approach.

as the kiss deepened, he felt a surge of emotions — joy, fear, longing, and the weight of what it could mean. but the alcohol dulled his anxiety, and when you pulled back, breathless, he couldn't help but grinned. your clouded gaze intoxicated him the least of all the alcohol he had drunk. his hands found your waist and he leaned closer.

“someone is impatient here, huh?” he managed to say, his mind still spinning. you looked at him, eyes wide, and for a moment, he thought he saw something — something that, maybe, just maybe, mirrored his own feelings. but then you simply chuckled, a teasing glint in your eye. “just living in the moment, Jinyoung.”

the night continued in his bedroom, with laughter and stolen kisses, hot touches, and sounds that friends usually not share. fueled by the warmth of alcohol and the thrill of the moment. but as dawn broke, reality crept back in. you slipped away quietly, leaving Jinyoung alone with the remnants of the night.

₊‧.°.⋆💭•˚₊‧⋆.

sunlight streamed through the window, harsh and bright. Jinyoung woke up with a pounding headache, his mouth dry and his mind swirling with fragmented memories. he ran a hand through his hair, groaning as he tried to piece together the events of the night before.

his heart raced as flashes of laughter, your teasing smile, and the warmth of your lips on his neck… his hands on your hips…had it all been real? had he truly kissed you, or was it just a drunken fantasy? he felt a knot form in his stomach.

he glanced around the room, half-expecting to see you lounging on the couch or sipping a drink, but instead, it was just him — alone. the silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the raucous energy of the night before. realization hit him like a punch to the gut : you were gone.

“why did you leave?” he muttered to himself, burying his face in his hands. the memory of your laughter echoed in his mind, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of loss. it wasn’t just that you had left : it was the uncertainty of what had happened. did you even remember? would you pretend it hadn’t happened?

Jinyoung stumbled out of bed, his legs unsteady. he made his way to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face in a futile attempt to clear his head. as he looked in the mirror, he saw a reflection of confusion and longing staring back at him. warmth of your lips still lingered on his, a reminder of the connection you had shared, but now it felt like a cruel taunt.

he reached for his phone, desperate to see if you had messaged him, but there was nothing. no missed calls, no texts. just silence. the emptiness in his chest grew heavier, and he felt lost, adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

what if i messed everything up? he thought, pacing his small apartment. he thought about the friendship you both had built, the countless moments of support and laughter, and now it felt like it was all hanging by a thread. fear of losing you gnawed at him, making it hard to breathe.

he grabbed a jacket and stepped outside, hoping the fresh air would clear his mind.

as he walked through the familiar streets, memories of you flooded his mind — your laughter, the way you could light up a room, the moments when you both shared your dreams and fears. he remembered how he wanted to tell you everything, how he had wanted to confess his feelings but had been too afraid to ruin what you had. now, he wondered if he would ever get the chance again...

#[ ~ koi.talks🗣]#lookism #x reader #lookism webtoon #webtoon lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism x reader #lookism jinyoung #park jinyoung x reader #jinyoung #park jinyoung #gapryong fist #0 generation #webtoon #headcanon

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rrxnjun · 2 years ago

Text

liebestraum [park jisung]

if anyone asked park jisung if he believed in ghosts, he would say yes– for he saw longing grow legs and follow him.

pairing: park jisung x fem! reader genre: summer break au. coming of age, slice of life, angst, fluff warnings: mentions of parents' divorce, swearing word count: 11k (11.190) playlist: liebestraum - franz liszt / the gold - phoebe bridgers / our summer - txt / could cry just thinking about you - troye sivan / burning love - elvis presley / if not for you - maneskin / we'll never have sex - leith ross / christmas kids - roar / raindrops (an angel cried) - ariana grande / ceilings - lizzy mcalpine / the loneliest - maneskin / about you - the 1975

a/n: this is mainly for you, liebestraum anon <3 thank you so much for being the most supportive friend, i really enjoy talking with you. hope the wait was worth it and hope the fic doesn't disappoint. i think that if it wasn't for you, this fic would never see the light of day HAHA

Laying on the floor of his aunt’s living room, listening to the vinyl his aunt popped into the record player just a few minutes prior to leaving the room to get some tea for the guests that are arriving soon, Park Jisung wishes for the ground to swallow him whole and for the ceiling to fall down and bury him in the deepest depths of this house. His head starts to spin as he dives in deeper to the music, the classical tunes almost making him overthink more than he has before. He wonders what would happen if he just left the room, left his aunt’s house and ran away so far no one could ever find him.

He finds himself fantasizing about stuff like this a lot lately. Listening to classical music– because of course his aunt listens to music from the 19th century, she’s almost as old as the composers themselves– he wonders what came through the mind of the author of the song when he wrote such trivial melodies.

Laying on the floor of his aunt’s living room, listening to the vinyl his aunt popped into the player just a few minutes prior to leaving the room to get some tea for the guests that are arriving soon, Park Jisung drifts away to a soft slumber, deep enough to make him more tired, but light enough to wake him up when the doorbell rings and the obnoxious laughter of his dear aunt pierces through his ears.

His aunt wakes him up with a screech. Frankly, it hasn’t been that long since he’s fallen asleep and he truly doesn’t really know if it was his position on the floor that made her scream, or the fact that he’s embarrassing her in front of the guests by sleeping on the floor in the living room, but nonetheless, he’s quick to stand up and bow to the guests, trying hard to be respectful.

His aunt nervously chews on the inside of her cheek. Her smile is a little too forced when she introduces all of them to him, but he tries hard to ignore the fact that she looks like an utter clown, pretending her house is a beautiful, welcoming shrine, because laughing out loud at her antics would surely do him no good. See, Jisung doesn't like to anger his aunt. It’s not that he doesn't enjoy the silent treatment she gives him, finally letting him breathe in the quiet– the feeling of suffocating escaping him for once in a while– but he simply just doesn’t enjoy it when she only glares at him and doesn’t speak more words than a single sentence announcing when the dinner’s ready. It only serves to make him feel more alienated.

“Jisung, these are my friends from university,” his aunt recites, sounding rehearsed, and he bets she acted out the scene in her head a thousand times before falling asleep last night, so it’s all perfect when the actual moment happens in real life, “their names are Jinyoung and Nayeon, they met in university and got married a few years later.”

He hums, scamming the adults from head to toe, noticing the neat way they present themselves. He wonders if this is how his parents looked to strangers when they used to visit their old friends. The truth is, they never looked as neat and as in tune with each other as this couple does in his eyes– but maybe he just wasn’t able to perceive them this way due to the image he made of their marriage when they were at home.

Eyes traveling to the person behind them, the fringe falling to their forehead, he gets captivated by a mysterious look in their orbs, hands hidden in the pockets of their jacket. Jisung’s not too sure if his aunt caught him staring at the unintroduced guest– now, he will admit that he stared at the person, for they were a stranger to him and for no other reason– but he know for sure that they did, from how they squint their eyes at Jisung and offer him a teasing smile.

“Oh, and this is Y/N,” his aunt says, nudging the person closer to his nephew, as if to present a thing meant to solve all of his problems, “their child. They are staying for the summer, so I expect you two to hang out often, since you’re the same age and all!”

Looking at his aunt, a dead look mirroring his eyes, he hears the person– you– with a voice sweet but a little prickly, just like the smell of a Christmas tree his family used to have in their living room during December, ask a question that is easily able to beat him down to the ground in one second, despite not really knowing you long enough to be this affected by a single strand of words plastered together.

“Does this mean we have to be friends?” you say, eyeing his aunt. Jisung doesn't know if you two have met before, because he himself hasn’t been around his aunt this often, but the familiarity in your eyes tells him that this shouldn’t be your first time being around his aunt. He has no way of proving it, and since he doesn't care enough to ask, he may never actually know.

“That’s- that’s not what I was hinting at, but I’m sure you two would make good friends!” his aunt chirps, making him suddenly wonder if her friends even agreed on letting their child spend time with a boy they just saw for the first time, sleeping on the floor of his aunt’s living room. He doesn’t think his aunt actually cares about their opinion, though. He thinks she just desperately wants him out of the house sometimes. Truth be told, he doesn’t blame her. It wasn’t her fault that he had to suddenly waddle into her house, eat her food and sleep in the spare bedroom for the summer– if he was in his aunt’s shoes, he’d want his comfort back as well. She didn’t ask for this. And he doesn’t even know why she agreed in the first place. “You are quite similar and have a lot in common, is what I meant,” his aunt finishes, and Jisung cringes under her gaze, because in reality, how could she even know?

A sigh escapes your lips, eyes rolling as you look over at your parents and snicker. “Am I at least getting paid for hanging out with this loser?”

“Y/N, watch your mouth!” your mother snaps, an apologetic look in her eyes.

Truth is, though, the comment doesn’t affect him. At least not in the way it should– it doesn’t offend him, it doesn’t hurt. Instead, he grins, looking you dead in the eyes, already liking the foreign excitement in his bones that dares to make his life feel much more lively than it has while he was locked up in the spare bedroom of his aunt’s house.

“I’m Park Jisung.”

Your lips widen into a cheshire grin, Jisung’s surroundings suddenly disappearing into thin air, the adults in their own universe now, not heard of and not seen. Staring you into your eyes for a heartbeat, another few words escape his mouth as a premise, unknowingly setting the tone for the two of you already.

“Let’s hang out. Show me around. If I have fun, you get a tenner. If it sucks, you’re not getting paid for being friends with me. Deal?”

He doesn’t know if it was the money on the line, or if you saw something in him that interested you enough to keep on giving in. And after all this time, he doesn't think he’ll get an answer– it’s too far out of his reach, too far back in history. But somehow, in that moment, you took his hand and shook it, starting off something that made Park Jisung who he is today. The contact of your hand with his felt like electricity to the boy, the sudden courage disappearing right as he feels the softness of your palm, and when your eyes lock, he physically feels his knees buckle under him– that’s the effect you have on the boy.

Your roles are soon reversed when you’re brought back into reality by an adult’s voice, your hands losing contact as you break away, looking at your mother with a glare in your eyes.

“Look, Ms Park has a piano! Go and play something for us, sweetie.”

A pained sigh escapes your lips, seemingly already knowing you won’t get out of this no matter how hard you try or plead, slowly walking over to the instrument settled in the corner of the room, cracking your knuckles and humming to yourself, thinking of what song to play.

“Jisung plays too, actually!” his aunt chimes in, and he sighs, halting in his movements,

because one, he can’t play the piano, and two, the song rolling off your fingers is so beautiful, so melodic he secretly starts to hope that he did.

Park Jisung can’t believe himself in the very moment when he’s standing at the rocky beach with you, clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck every few seconds in a poor attempt of calming down his nerves and the erracting beating of his heart. He’s only 18 and has no experience with girls, so he thinks this is the sheer effect of the fact that he can’t swim well and he’s afraid of embarrassing himself in front of you– he bets you’re not strong enough to bring out his drowning body out of the depths of the lake anyways, so it really must be fear that’s holding him down from undressing in front of you and jumping into the refreshing water.

“Come on, Park Jisung, what are you waiting for?” you jab at him, a sharp finger pointing straight to his ribs. Your top is already off, a peach-colored bikini top catching Jisung’s attention that he instantly averts and focuses on the shiny water instead, worried he’d get caught if his eyes lingered a bit more. Again, Park Jisung is only 18 and he barely leaves the house– the only girl in a bikini he’s ever seen were the actors in the movies he watched on TV or the characters in the anime he once binged watched in the middle of the night, and those curves were drawn-on, on top of that. He doesn’t know what to do around a girl, and holding a conversation is suddenly that harder when his eyes keep drifting towards your body.

“I- I can’t really swim,” he mumbles out, another set of scratching his neck taking place, the slowly burning skin on the sharp sun making him shift in discomfort.

“Fuck’s sake,” a curse escapes your mouth, the word catching the poor boy off-guard even more, since he’s not used to anyone speaking in that tone around him– with the exception of his parents when they argue, of course, but he’d rather not bring up the memory– and his big eyes scan you again, surprised and almost a little worried of your next actions, “well, I’m not getting 10 pounds this way, am I? Didn’t know the uptown boy can’t swim…” you mutter under your breath before you shake your head in disbelief and shrug off your shorts, throwing the clothing towards the beach towel sprawled out on the shore.

Now, Jisung tries really really hard not to look at your bum. That would be really embarrassing– truly humiliating– and he’s a gentleman, of course. And it doesn’t make it better that the whole journey here, you were rambling about your day and about how bored you are in this little village, and he found the scrunch of your nose so adorable, because now he has the crushing reality dawning up on him that he’s 18 and finally having a sexual awakening. No, he won’t stare at your body. He’s simply not allowed.

“What are you waiting for? Are you gonna go into the water in your clothes?” you ask again, looking him up and down when he doesn’t move.

“Oh, I was just thinking I could… you know, stay here and hang out by myself until you’re done swimming, or something…” he says, and the more words that spill out of his mouth, the more embarrassed he feels, because your gaze suddenly locks with his and you seem so amused by his rambling, you find his words so hilarious, he doesn’t miss a heartbeat before he sighs more-so to himself and takes off his shirt, clearing his throat awkwardly when he finds you staring at his naked skin.

“Glad you got the memo,” you muster up, shaking your head in disbelief and tying your hair up into a neat bun. “I swear it’s not that deep from the corners, you’re not gonna drown. Your aunt would kick my head off if I left you here to fry,” you mumble and Jisung hates how it sounds like you’re truly only here because you have to, because the more seconds he spends staring into your eyes trying to predict your next move, the more he wishes you were here because you were only slightly interested in spending time with the new kid in the village– him.

“Alright,” he mumbles, and when he’s finally only in his swimming suit, taking cautious steps and following you towards the water, he finds his anxiety levels rising, because the truth is, he’s never swam in a lake before. Sure, he’s been in pools– but those aren’t so scary. He can almost always feel the bottom of it under his feet and he knows they don’t get as deep. Surely, there is a little to no possibility of him drowning in a swimming pool. Lakes, however, are a different thing. He can’t reach the bottom, and if he does, the surface is disgusting and slippery and won’t help him to his feet– if he really got too stiff and panicked, he could die. And that’s perhaps what scares him the most as he takes the first step on the slick rock at the very edge of the water, the slight stumble of his feet only making him more aware of the reality that’s in front of him.

“You’re such a scaredy cat,” you tease him when you look at him from behind your shoulder, a grin on your face acting like a sucker punch towards Jisung’s gut. And the truth is, he’d be more relaxed if you just gave him a minute– to collect his thoughts, calm his erracting heartbeat as he’d tell himself that there’s nothing to worry about and that the water here truly isn’t as deep yet and the worst thing that could happen is that he lands on his ass, but you don’t give him a chance to do so as your hand slips into his– trying to steady him, as you walk deeper into the water.

Your soft hand in his, fingers intertwined, he finds himself holding on to you like a lifeline– because in his tragic imagination, you might as well be one– and the beating of his heart only gets faster when he gets painfully aware of the sweat pooling in the palms of his hand and the very apparent hesitance in his step. If you notice it, you don’t mention it– to which Jisung’s equal parts surprised and glad, and suddenly, his figure is waist-level in the water before he even has a chance to register it and your hand lets go of his, the momentarily hypnotization of your hold escaping him when he has to face you as he stands still in the cool liquid.

You’re staring at him with a flashy smile, expecting eyes waiting for him to react to you in any way– and when nothing comes, you must realize that he’s too starstrucked by your appearance to muster up anything coherent enough.

“You alright there?”

He finds himself nodding, a hum escaping his throat to accompany his response. It’s not enough for you, though, and the truth is, Park Jisung should’ve been prepared for this, since even the two days of knowing you must be enough to get to know the true intentions of your actions– because you tease him again, and even though the boy gets sulky easily, he doesn’t seem to find himself paying it much mind.

“A cat got your tongue?” you snicker, shaking your head at him.

For a second, Jisung debates on acting dumb– maybe more silence or a shrug of his shoulders would rile you up more, get you more annoyed– but he should’ve learned already that you’re always one step ahead of him, in more cases than one, when a splash of cold water hits his heated skin, making him hiss in shock.

Your laughter fills his ears as he watches you stand still in front of him, presumably not expecting much threat from the boy that’s barely able to move in the lake, but the angelic look on your face acts like a dopamine kick for the boy, vitamin D flowing through his veins as he reacts to your teasing with another splash of water, feet delicately chasing you around the lake, screeches coming out your throat like music to his ears on the sunny summer afternoon.

The water fight ends with him tripping over a stone as he tries to run away from you, and the shock on your face is evident– Jisung finds himself feeling endearment at the hint of you worrying about him– when you rush towards the boy and lean over his body sitting in the water, Jisung’s worst-case scenario coming to life right in front of your eyes.

“Are you okay?” you ask, a hand offered to him to get him back up on his feet.

And Jisung takes it, only to tug you down towards him, his body shielding you from the impact, but still hitting the ice-cold water of the lake. With your face only centimeters away from his, your annoyed, yet amused face causing him to grin, he finds himself laughing at your next remark.

“I take it as today’s worthy of a tenner then, Park Jisung. Having too much fun, aren’t you?”

To Park Jisung, summer feels like sleep and the humid air in his little room back home. He’s never really been anywhere on vacations or holidays, because frankly, with his father’s nature and his mother’s low income job, there wasn’t really much space to go somewhere and explore what it’s like to enjoy the summer heat instead of constantly angrily swearing at the weather. For that matter, Park Jisung never really enjoyed summer. He was always locked up in that small room, sometimes listening to his parents’ arguing– which he so desperately tried to ignore every time, but his heart did that weird hammering each time his father broke a glass or his mother raised her voice a bit louder than usual– and when his parents weren’t arguing, the house would be too quiet, making him overthink.

To Park Jisung, summer feels like overslept afternoons and boredom. He doesn’t know any better, and he would even pity himself, but the truth is, he thinks that’s embarrassing. People have it worse, after all– he’s just a teenager with no life purpose. Just like any other, right?

So when Jisung arrives at his aunt’s place for the summer– no longer having to listen to his parents’ arguing, because after 18 years of his life, they finally decided to call it quits and drag their son to the only relative he vaguely knows for the time being, until they figure everything out– he expects nothing more from the old house than what he experienced his whole growing up. He expects overslept afternoons and sweaty pajamas clinging to his back, humid air everywhere and the weird hollowness in the pit of his stomach.

To his surprise– and believe me, he didn’t really expect this at all– the summer before university is completely different, and he’s pleased with the change.

He wakes up late one afternoon, because he doesn’t expect anything exciting to happen in the time he spends asleep anyway, and when he drags his feet to the kitchen, body tense and hurting from the weird positions he found himself sleeping in, his mind is instantly sweeped of all the haziness when he founds your figure in his aunt’s house, laughing at the radio host babbling through the device.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” his aunt greets him from the corner of the room, and he’s suddenly too aware of his bed hair and the fact that his clothing is all wrinkled and his face is puffy, because he feels your eyes on him and he hates to know that you see him in such state. Not that he’s any eye candy any other day, of course– he just thinks you could’ve seen him in a more presentable light, that’s all.

“G’morning,” he mutters as he scratches the back of his neck and looks around the room, trying to grasp the events of 1PM– barely morning anymore.

“If you woke up earlier, you could’ve gone with us,” his aunt chirps in from the stove, swirling something sweet-smelling in a big pot. Her face is fawned over with a glaze of sweat and even the wide-open window does nothing to get the air to clear out– Jisung thinks that’s just the magic of summer. It’s always too hot, and the only thing you can do is complain.

“Where did you go?”

“To the forest,” you smile at him, seeing as he takes a few hesitant steps towards your figure, “we picked berries and now your aunt’s making jam. A classic village-like summer activity, don’t ya think?” you chirp, tugging your hair behind your ear as you pick through the big bowl and put away the berries that don’t look as good, choosing to not include them in the jam.

Jisung hums in agreement, still a little confused, as he takes another few steps around the room. Looking over his aunt’s shoulder, he sees the blood colored liquid boiling at the stove, the air even sweeter right above the steam, and he suddenly wonders if this is today’s activity. Looking over his shoulder at you, dressed in shorts and a tank top, he shrugs to himself– if it means that you’ll be over at his house the whole time the jam’s being made, he doesn’t mind helping out in the kitchen.

“Can you wash these?” you ask, pointing towards the bowl full of berries. He nods to your order and takes it over to the sink, carefully splashing water over the fruit and making sure each piece is clean– he doesn’ want to embarrass himself in front of you. Frankly, he doesn’t know what’s going on or how exactly jam is made, but you seem like you’re a regular in those activities– he doesn’t want you to think he’s a city guy with no knowledge of how the world works. Because that’s kind of true, but you don’t have to know that.

Bringing the bowl over to the table again, he watches as you look up at him from the next bowl you’re currently sorting through, raising your brows in question at his stare. The boy almost wants to look away from being caught, but he figures it’s too late anyway, so he challenges you and waits for you to jab at him or roll your eyes.

Instead, you pick up one berry from the bowl and press it up against his lips, an innocent smile playing with your features as you wait for him to eat it, looking at him with expecting eyes.

“Delicious, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely magical,” Jisung replies, overly-exaggerated, seeing you grin. He steals himself another berry from the bowl, escaping from the playful slap you want to give to the palm of his hand, before he sits on the chair opposite of yours, silently watching you doing your task.

“Now, today’s events might not be as exciting, so you can save your next 10 pounds, but once your aunt’s hands get tired, you can take over and stir the jam while it cooks,” you explain, teasing him with your little inside joke– you’re not actually getting paid for hanging out with him. Not really, although Jisung did buy you ice cream on your way home from the lake the other day. So in a way, you are. Just not with real money.

“So fun!” he says, watching you as you roll your eyes.

The truth is, he doesn’t care much about what he does during the day. As long as you’re present, he’s satisfied.

To Park Jisung, summer feels like overslept afternoons, his little humid room back home and boredom. This afternoon, the smell of berries, the sound of the radio and your bubbly laugh when you tease him joins the mix– and he thinks those overpower the grudge he has against the season with such measures he prays every day feels like summer from now on.

The room is kind of chilly when Jisung rests his back against the tall bookshelf– the side of the furniture, so the shelves aren’t uncomfortable against his back– eyes glued to the pages of the book. He finds himself too immersed in the story to notice anyone coming into his aunt’s living room, too occupied with the sentences to hear the shuffling of your feet as you drag your legs across the house. His aunt always lets you in with no questions– you only knock on the door and smile at her when she opens it, slickly jumping inside and finding who you’re looking for in one of the few rooms of the house– more often than not, you catch Park Jisung off guard, but he is starting to get used to the euphoric surprise.

Jisung is an avid reader. He’s liked books since he was little, and it was the only thing he found himself spending money on growing up. When the amount of books he could read in one month became too big for him to keep buying more and more prints, his mother took him to the town to get him his own library card.

After looking through the bookshelf in his aunt’s house, he was surprised– and a little annoyed– at the fact that there were only romance books in store. He already finished the copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy he brought with himself when his parents sent him off, and he didn’t really think of bringing more. Finding his aunt’s bookshelf was like finding a treasure, only if the contents weren’t so disappointing. Still, a romance book is better than no book, he thinks, as he picks a familiar one up and sits on the floor, immersing himself into the story.

“What are you reading?” he suddenly hears, head snapping up to see you watching him from above, eyes skimming through the words.

“A book,” he responds, voice low, before his eyes are back on the pages.

“I can see that, genius,” you snicker, situating yourself next to him and resting your back against the bookshelf, “what book is it?” you pry more, and even though you are almost always the main object of Park Jisung’s attention and thoughts, this time, you are set to the second place as he continues to read the novel.

You are rewarded with silence, a thing that makes your brows furrow and a sigh escape your lips. You’re not used to this kind of treatment, it seems, and when the interested teenager doesn’t give you his time of the day, you have no other choice but to ask for it yourself, no matter how embarrassing it might feel. You’re okay with biting it down– you know he won’t try to tease you about it anyways.

“Jisung, give me attention,” you simply say, jabbing your finger to his thigh.

“I’m reading.”

“I came to visit you!” you act offended, an over-exaggerated sigh escaping your lips.

“I didn’t ask you to,” Jisung mumbles, still reading through the pages, although his focus is now a little thrown-off.

Giving yourself a few seconds to think, chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrug. “Okay, then. Read it out loud, so I’m entertained too.”

“It’s the middle of the book, Y/N–”

“Come on, I read The great Gatsby before anyway,” you say as you nestle a little in your place, resting your back flush against the shelf again, “read for me so we don’t sit in silence,” you order.

Jisung spares you a glance, a second of eye contact enough for him to be convinced, huffing before he averts his eyes back to the book and clears his throat, reading aloud.

He doesn’t like to be the center of attention. He doesn’t like it when everyone’s eyes are on him and he feels them watching, he absolutely despises the fact that he’s the only thing you’re focused on as he reads through the words and his voice shakes a little at each passage. He feels his face heartening and sweat slowly forming on his forehead, each of his fingertips tingling with the fact that he’s the only thing you’re paying attention to right now, your only object of interest.

“He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning-fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips’ touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete,” he reads, and when he feels your head resting on his shoulder, your soft hair tickling the sensitive skin of his neck, he almost jumps out of his own skin and crawls under the ground, because somewhere along the way, he admits in shame, in his imagination, you turned into the main character.

Laying on the floor of his aunt’s living room, listening to the vinyl you popped into the record player just a few minutes prior to leaving the room to get some tea from his aunt, Park Jisung no longer wishes for the ground to swallow him whole and for the ceiling to fall down and bury him in the deepest depths of this house. He listens deeply to the music– the loud guitars and the ringing of the drums, so dearly reminding him of the beating of his own heart that involuntarily matches the song somewhere between the verse and the chorus– and when you slip back inside, carrying a tray with two mugs in the very middle, Jisung’s eyes unconsciously watch you as you walk through the space. It’s a weird parallel that makes him snicker.

“Why are you just laying here?” you nudge him with your leg, his figure limp on the floor. “We didn’t come here to lay around, little boy.”

“Just give me a few more minutes,” he hums as he nods, looking at you from below, the curves of your face and the glow on the tips of your cheekbones making his heartbeat stummer for just a beat, an excited glint in his stomach making itself known when you grin at him and your eyes bear into his with an uncertain feeling of mischief and playfulness.

“Are you mentally preparing, or something?”

“Something like that,” he admits, sighing to himself when you offer him a hand and beg him to stand up with your eyes, your skin soft under his touch when he hosts himself up and stands aimlessly in the middle of the room.

You stand in front of him, stiff, for only a few seconds. The eye contact you share makes Jisung feel electrified, but he doesn’t find himself averting his gaze– he’s too scared that you’d find him cowardly, or too shy to meet your glances. And even though it might be true and your whole existence is of exciting importance to the boy, he doesn’t want to show it to you so bluntly, so he chooses to bury those hints and stand his ground, waiting for you to look away first. He didn’t expect you to take it as a challenge– but when his still body annoys you a bit too much, he earns himself a bump to his shoulder, the contact of your tightened fist making him break into a victorious grin.

“Move!”

Jisung takes a step to his left, seeing as you roll your eyes at his teasing manner– normally you’re the one taking the lead in playful banter, but he’s feeling bold today, energized with whatever spirit– and you notice, hating the way he has the upper hand over you for once, deciding to once again take the matters to your own hands and lead him through the situation, grabbing him by his hand and strongly pulling him towards either side of the room, rolling your hips in your place and jumping around, laughing when he doesn’t seem to obey your strategy.

“Jisung-ah! You promised,” you pout, the soft demand in your tone making the boy sigh in defeat and roll his eyes at you, because if you’re good at something, it’s using your words and taking advantage of his weakness for you. And so he does what you want him to, finally holding you more firmly when his hands miraculously find your waist and he dances with you to the rock music– jumping around and twirling the two of you in the middle of the room, because there aren’t many dance moves you can do to this kind of music unless you’re really skilled– and there it is, the wide grin settling onto your face, like a sweet, sweet reward to the boy.

Because even though you really wanted to have fun with Jisung– to get the promised tenner, you said– your mum didn’t let you go to the party in town, no matter how hard you pleaded and tried to reason with her that Jisung’s gonna be there with you to protect you. His aunt knew better than to believe the claim– if there’s someone needing protection, it’s her nephew, and being the one that’s supposed to do the job might be too much pressure for the poor boy.

And when you pouted and mourned about the fact while breaking the news to Jisung yesterday afternoon, he found himself promising you that you can have your own party at his house, dancing around and having even more fun listening to his aunt’s outdated records and drinking chamomile tea that’s surely better than whatever alcohol they are serving in the town.

He’s not a good dancer. The music is not his cup of tea. But hearing your laughter piercing through his eardrums whenever he dips you down or does a silly dance solo just to impress you with his playfulness, he finds himself being content.

He hasn’t laughed this hard in a long while. He says it’s because of your outrageous ideas.

Deep inside, though, he knows it’s because of your sole presence.

“You already finished The Great Gatsby?” you ask, your soft voice cutting through the solemn wind. Jisung glances up at you from his spot next to your figure, the two of you sitting under the tree behind his house, silence enveloping you two like a blanket, only disturbed by the chirping of birds and cicadas in the distance.

He nods. “I’m a fast reader,” he snickers.

“You must have liked the book,” you mumble, your head falling to his shoulder as you nestle in your place a little, the book in your lap still open as you engage in the conversation with him. You’re wearing a summer dress, your bruised knees on full display, and something about the air smelling like strawberries makes him think and wonder of the fact that this feels a little too much like a date, but he’s too afraid to let the thought ring out loud.

“Not really,” he states, “I don’t like romance novels.”

“You don’t?” you ask, the statement taking you off guard.

“No.”

“Why?”

“They’re not realistic,” he mutters under his nose.

“You don’t believe in love?” you ask, your eyes locking with his in a curious manner. The more he bears his eyes into yours, the more he watches as the glimmers in your orbs swim around and hypnotize him, the more he wishes he could say yes, the more he yearns to tell you that he does, he always has and he always will believe in love, but smiling to himself, more out of despair than out of anything, he shakes his head in disapproval and sees the shadow casting over your face, breaking him.

“Why?” you ask, the tone of your voice almost hurt, as if it was a question of life and death.

“Because… it doesn’t seem real. It’s all an illusion, a chemical reaction, even, it’s- it’s not forever, you know? It messes with your brain and makes you feel dizzy for a while, and then after a while, you realize you don’t feel the same anymore and it was all just a lack of judgment. I don’t think love exists,” he says, “or at least, I don’t think it can last.”

Your eyes watch him with a newly found sense, something in your brain turning fast as you chew on the inside of your cheek, and he can see it in your eyes– you want to disagree with him, you want to tell him that he’s stupid and silly and he doesn’t know anything, he’s just too burdened with what’s going on in his life and that he judges everything by the image of love that was fed to him by his parents; the love that didn’t last, the love that didn’t exist– but you don’t say anything along those lines, maybe in a quiet understanding, knowing it won’t change his mind, knowing it’s not your place to tell him otherwise.

Instead, you only bear your eyes back into the pages of your book and sigh. “I disagree. Because, Jisung, tell me,” you say, sighing before you continue, “how could it not be real, when everyone writes about it? When everyone sings about it, yearns for it and so desperately wants it? How could it not last when this book is older than any of us, yet it’s still considered one of the most trivial parts of romance?”

He watches you from above, the crown of your head now in his point of view when he listens to your voice. “You should be kissed often, and by someone who knows how,” you read, “isn’t that beautiful, Jisung? Isn’t that love? Don’t tell me it’s all an illusion.”

Your eyes don’t meet his when you speak those words. Not able to focus back on his own reading, he becomes painfully aware of your head on his shoulder again, the soft tickling of your hair against his neck– and he finds himself thinking that if love is an illusion, a chemical reaction, a lack of judgment, even– if love doesn’t last, if it’s all just a drunkenness that makes him dizzy, he doesn’t mind.

At the end of the day, what matters might just be the present moment. And if this doesn’t last, he’s content with how he’s feeling for you now– even though it might fizzle out, he’s grateful for the things you’ve taught him.

Park Jisung’s summer is filled with him staring at you in your summer dress, with him watching you when you ramble on and on about something that makes barely any sense in his brain, with you dancing around the room and playing the piano in his aunt’s living room, the melodies sometimes lullying him to dreams filled with your scent and your voice calling from him when he wakes from his slumber.

Your face is the image that fills his brain when he thinks of sunny days, and somewhere along the way, he stopped trying to conceal the subtle infatuation he has over you, for you no longer tease him for his gentle stares and allow him to admire you in silence.

Today, much like all other days, he finds himself in your company. Sitting in the meadow, side by side– you convinced him he’d like the sight, but he finds himself watching you smile instead– the smell of strawberries fills his nose when you take out your lip balm and put it on, your soft lips suddenly glistening with the moisture, a pinkish tint like a subtle overlay over your smile. Indulged into the motion, Jisung can’t seem to look away, and he could play it off as him so desperately wanting to know if the lip balm tastes as delicious as it smells, but suddenly, all he can think about it how he wants to kiss you and how if he doesn’t look away soon, he won’t be able to control the urge.

But Jisung’s always been too weak when it comes to you. Eyes glued to your lips, still talking about philosophical themes the boy could never wrap his mind around, never in a million years, the stream of words is suddenly cut off your lips when he presses his against them, tasting the sweetness off your skin. And his suspicions were correct– the lip balm is as tasty as it smells, yet, even better than he could expect, tasting more of strawberries dipped in honey– but in his mind, the sweetness you and not the lip balm, and when your palm meets his cheek and holds him in place, he feels close to falling apart right in your hold, a fragile pot full of love and affection for you only, eyes pressed shut from nerves.

He doesn’t think he’s a good kisser. It’s his first time and he never really thought about the action before– never had the opportunity or the right person to prompt the thought into his head. He tries hard to ignore the thought of him being bad at the action, because he doesn’t want to ruin this memory for himself, and as you pull away for a heartbeat and then press yourself into him once more, he finds himself forgetting the time, space and the whole universe– there’s only you, you, you.

And he could lie to himself and convince himself that he kissed you just to taste the strawberries on his tongue, but it’s far from the simple reality– he kissed you just to kiss you.

Not thinking of the future this holds to him, not thinking of the fact that one day, you’ll have to say goodbye. Not thinking of much more, not expecting any difference in your dynamic. Deep down, he doesn’t even really want things to change– he likes the stillness, the security it holds. He kissed you just to kiss you– it was that simple. The desire was too strong to hold back. It was gentle, it was sweetness, and he found himself wondering how come it took him such a while.

Laying on the floor of his aunt’s living room with you, listening to the silence ringing in his ears and making his brain wander, Park Jisung wishes for the ground to swallow him whole and for the ceiling to fall down and bury him in the deepest depths of this house. He hasn’t felt like this in a while, too enchanted with your presence to realize the weight of the situation, too immersed in the blissful unknowingness than paying attention to the stresses that even brought him to his aunt’s house in the first place, but his head starts to spin as he dives in deeper to his thoughts, letting the fear swallow him. He once again wonders what would happen if he just left the room, left his aunt’s house and ran away so far no one could ever find him– it’s a familiar tale now, but he’s never really quite reached the end.

“What are you thinking about?” your voice breaks him out of the tense slumber, his eyes growing wide as he snaps his head to watch you next to him, your orbs filled with tender care and worry. The outside world is slowly turning into a little less vibrant one, the summer nights growing colder with the undeniable fact of the season ending soon, autumn taking its place and Park Jisung’s own departure slowly burning at the tips of his toes.

He doesn’t like to think about it, but it’s inevitable. Maybe he should pay it more mind.

“Home,” he mumbles, squinting his eyes as he turns his head back straight and watches the spiderwebs in the corner, the weight of his words making the atmosphere thicker. “It’s not gonna be the same,” he adds, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

The silence doesn’t go away as your hand envelopes his, your fingers playing with his in a calming manner, yet still having a playful aura to it as you tug on the joints of his fingers and wave them around in the air, eyes focused on the way his palm fits into yours. “Isn’t that a good thing?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he answers.

And it’s true. He doesn’t know– fights and anger and bad temper is all he’s ever known, all he’s ever been used to. The silent treatment and the petty arguments are what raised him, and now that it’s gone, he wonders if it’s gonna make him feel better. The truth is, sometimes, feeling like this can feel essential. It feels safe to be so miserable, for when the bright times of him and his parents being okay and getting along happened, he’s always felt unsure, like the storm was about to happen each time; like he couldn’t be happy for long, because it felt uncomfortably unsafe, having the hunch that it’s gonna get bad again any time. Feeling numb was safe. It couldn’t get worse than that– it’s what made him comfortable with his sadness.

And if it’s true that it’s gonna be better now, just because his parents are gonna be separated and they’re not gonna be in contact, is it really okay for him to feel happy about that? Is it really the end? The calm after the storm of his childhood and growing up? And is it okay to feel secure in loneliness? To feel okay with seeing his mother wither away and his dad turning to alcohol every time he visits him in his new house? Because he can picture it now– he sees it clear as day, that this is how the situation’s gonna end up, and he doesn’t know if it’s a good or a bad thing.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you mumble, a poor attempt at soothing the boy.

He finds it hard to believe you. Sometimes he thinks you know everything– you’ve seen so much and taught him so much and told him so much about the world. But can you really know anything about a situation you’ve never encountered?

Still, his hopeless heart swells at your words, the comfort of your hand in his guarding him to reality. He thinks he made you up sometimes– he longed for something to comfort him so hard and for so long that the longing grew legs and followed him around, brightened up his withering days.

“I’m scared to come home,” he whispers, the tone barely audible in the so still room. He’s scared of what he’ll find. Sometimes he thinks he’s scared of the silence, for he was brought up in violent screams and doors always left a bit open– just in case. Is it going to be fine for him to find peace after the violence?

You lean up and watch the boy with eyes bigger than the whole universe, a soft smile playing with your features when your fingers trail the curve of his cheek. Jisung watches your lips and dreams of them on his, but there’s no use when you only trace the arch of his cupid's bone with the pad of your thumb, voice barely louder than a whisper, as if confiding him in a secret. “You’re gonna be okay.”

And with that, you’re gone. Like a dream. Your touch fades and your scent is forcefully dragged away from his nose.

After a few seconds, you play the piano for him again. He recognizes the song to be the same one you played on the first day you two met– and he wonders if it’s your favorite, or if you just don’t know how to play anything as well. The melody is often slow, romantic and idyllic, but builds into an intense complexity. Towards the end, the initial melody returns, bringing a sense of resolution and tranquility. He doesn’t know the name of the song– he’s never heard of it before meeting you– but in his soul, the feelings of love, longing and enchantment remain as he listens to the harmonies and passionate melody.

Laying on the floor of his aunt’s living room, listening to the song you play for him on the piano, so many words unsaid but hanging in the air, Park Jisung closes his eyes and feels a stray tear rolling down his cheek. The air smells of autumn when the breeze flows into the room through the open window, making the hairs on his arm stand up in attention, and his head starts to spin as he dives in deeper to the music, the classical tunes almost making him overthink more than he has before. He wonders what will happen if you left the room right now. If he’ll ever find you, wherever you are.

Laying on the floor of his aunt’s living room, listening to the song you play for him on the piano, so many words unsaid but hanging in the air, Park Jisung closes his eyes and lets himself fall into a soft slumber, the same way he did the first time you walked through the door to his life. During the sleep, he dreams of love.

Park Jisung opens his eyes on the last day of summer and feels coldness seeping into his bones. It’s not cold yet, the season hasn’t even ended, but there’s something about the aura of the morning that makes him crawl in his own skin and dread the day in front of him. After today, he’s supposed to come back home– he’s going to leave everything the summer taught him behind, in this little village, with his aunt he’s grown to adore more than he initially thought he could. It’s kind of depressing, if you really think about it, but Jisung would rather not think at all.

He sits up on the bed, burrowing his head into his palms and huffs heavily at the thoughts running through his brain. He’s not a morning person, sure, but he thinks perhaps his sudden mood change is the result of something completely else– something he doesn’t yet know and can’t quite put his finger on, can’t quite name.

Standing up and walking out of his room, naked feet in contact with the hardwood floor, the clique of the door feels unusually cold against his hand when he reaches for it, opening it and getting ready to face the day. He hasn’t said goodbye to you yet, but he knows he’ll have to today. It’s the last opportunity before he walks out of summer break for real, the last opportunity to see your smile and to hold you in his arms like he always yearned for whenever you were in his close proximity.

Yet, as he gets ready to take the first step out of the room, his feet come to contact with something sharp, a block-like object waiting for him outside of the door. Squinting below his toes, he finds a book on the hard tiles, picking it up and moving it closer up towards his nose. Reading over the title and the author’s name, his heart drops to his stomach, an unreasonable feeling of fear settling in his fingertips as he turns the page and reads through the contents, something scribbled on the first, worn-out page of the book catching his attention.

To my Jisung. Think of me when you read through the pages. You said you didn’t like romance novels, but I know you’re secretly a sucker for them. Always in your heart, Y/N.

A kiss mark in bright red is settled below the inscription, the lipstick stain he rarely ever seen you wear does nothing else than makes his heartbeat quicken and his fear intensify. He doesn’t have it confirmed yet, but in the depths of his mind and soul, he already knows– he knows it’s too late and you didn’t say goodbye before you left.

Still, his feet act before his brain does, his blurry vision ignored when he runs out of his aunt’s house and makes a jog towards the one you were staying at through the summer break. He puts on the first pair of shoes he finds at the doorstep and takes off, his aunt’s concerned yells ignored as he clutches the book to his chest, something about the beaten edges reminding him of the fact that it’s the one you always read in the shade under the single tree in the whole meadow, and it’s confirmed when he gets to your house– your parents’ car nowhere in sight, the windows shut and everything so intensely lonely.

And that’s when he allows himself to break– to fold at the grass in front of your house, to open the book and randomly find the sentence you quoted to him once, breaking his heart into a million different shatters. “You should be kissed often, and by someone who knows how,” he reads, and when his eyes trail over the next pages, he sees each one annotated, words scribbled on the sides of the pages, pretty quotes underlined. You left a piece of you with him, for him to keep, and he should feel lucky, for he has something to remember you by even though you’re long gone, but he just can’t get past the melody you played on the piano replaying over and over in his brain, reminding him that

you left without a goodbye and he doesn’t know what he’s going to do once he moves back home and you’re not going to be there, and oh how badly he wishes you kissed him for the last time yesterday, for he can’t remember how your lips felt against his anymore and he fears he may never feel the way he did when he was kissed by you ever again.

Rustling through the book, there’s a lone sheet of paper tucked behind the last page. Slowly walking home, head hung low, his eyes scanning the music sheet, the title of the song sits unfamiliar on his tongue when he repeats it under his breath like a broken mantra made to bring you back.

He promises himself to learn how to play it on the piano one day, just so he could hear it again. There’s an inkling feeling in him that the song might be important.

Wobbling through the classroom, happy that the bell finally rang and he can go home, Park Jisung hears his name called from the mouth of his Creative writing professor, much to his dismay, making him stop in his tracks and follow his voice with a low sigh. It’s Friday and it’s raining outside, meaning that if he won’t catch the last tram home, he’ll have to run through the rain without an umbrella, and that really wasn’t on his checklist for the week.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like he hates this class or his Creative writing professor in the slightest. It’s quite the opposite, really– this class serves good to his vivid imagination and the daydreaming he practices every night before sleeping and sometimes even when he takes a long shower. His professor is nice as well– young enough to understand the minds that are filling the classroom, only getting his master’s degree recently– but still mature enough to lead the class in a way that makes everyone respect him in a healthy way. But today, on a rainy, gray Friday, after the last class of the week, Jisung really doesn’t feel like talking to Mr Kim in the slightest.

“Did you want to talk to me about something?” Jisung asks as soon as the classroom empties itself out and he is standing face to face with his professor. The man nods, taking his glasses off and putting them onto his desk, quickly turning around to his student again and only starting to talk once he makes sure the classroom is completely empty, just to stay confidential.

“Yes, I did,” he says. Humming under his breath as he turns around again, he searches through the papers sitting on the desk, seemingly looking for the ones that belong to Jisung, and clears his breath as he faces the boy again and furrows his brows at the writing on the paper.

“Is something wrong?” Jisung asks, full of concern. The truth is that the Creative writing class is one of the only classes that maintain his grades below the lowest level– the one that gets you kicked out of the university– and the face his professor’s currently making is surely not a one that seeps of satisfaction. It’s only natural for Jisung to feel worried, because with how badly he’s doing in Physics, he surely can’t afford to get a bad grade even in a class that’s supposed to come easily to him.

“No, no,” Mr Kim shakes his head in a hurry to quickly calm his student down, “it’s just…” trailing off, his eyes swiftly moving across the letters Jisung finished writing a few weeks ago, just a day before handing the first part of his assignment in, reading the first few lines over one more time. Jisung finds himself feeling irritated and frustrated, for his professor should be the one that’s good with words, but in this situation, he feels like he’s not telling him anything.

“What is it, then?” he asks, diving straight in. If he gets it out of him now, he might even catch the last tram, as long as he runs to the tram stop…

“Look, Jisung. What I’m going to tell you now might not make you happy, but I think it’s crucial for you,” he says, looking kindly, yet still firmly at the boy, “your writing… I like it. Quite honestly, I find it phenomenal. You have a way with words that just… when you explain feelings, you go into depths and details, and I find that really interesting from a boy like you.”

Jisung doesn’t know what the premise of his words are, and the sudden praise catches him off-guard, since he thought he’s going to get scolded. Furrowing his brows and muttering low words of appreciation, his professor continues with his little ment, finally clarifying his intentions. “But I have an issue with this,” he says, pointing to the papers in his hands, meeting eyes with Jisung again, “it’s not that it’s bad. Not at all, I said what I said, I really find your writing the best in this class. However, I think it lacks something.”

Stepping from one foot to the other, Jisung chews on the inside of his cheek, confused. “And what does it lack, sir?”

“Emotion,” he deadpans, looking straight into his eyes. The words surprise him, making him furrow his brows at the explanation, mumbling in confusion.

“But… but you just said I describe emotions well?”

“That’s true, Jisung, however… Your works are full of emotion, but I don’t think those emotions are yours. You’re describing something you don’t feel, something you don’t understand, and that makes me feel like you’re trying to sell me something you’re constantly having to make yourself believe is real,” Mr Kim answers, switching his tone into a more considerate one, “I like your imagination, I like the plot, however, this all means that your writing lacks any real depth.”

Jisung gasps at the harsh words, the reality of them making him sink a little in his place. “I thought a lot about the plot and the intentions of the characters, I really don’t know what I did wrong–”

“If this was any other student in this classroom that handed in this work, I’d praise them for outdoing themselves. It’s good. It’s almost perfect, I’d say, and I mean that. But when it comes to you, Jisung…” he trails off again, trying to find the right words, “I think you can do better. I know you can do better, only if you actually cared a bit about the things you write. Did you enjoy writing this? Did you like this work?”

“I… I did- I think I do?” he stammers, answer sounding almost like a question,

Mr Kim stares at him for a while, almost as if he’s trying to make the boy realize the lies he’s telling from his own mouth right now, but when it doesn’t come, he just sighs and offers him the papers, watching the boy take them into his hold and stare at him, completely oblivious.

“Jisung, you’re writing like you have to do it. It doesn’t mean anything to you. At least this story doesn’t. And you know, I can see it in your words, it’s- you’re describing everything so deeply and so beautifully, but at the end of the day, you don’t like or care for anything you write, and that’s why it feels extraordinarily empty,” he says, watching the boys eyes widen and his lips form into a pout, nodding softly at his professor’s words.

“Does that mean… I’m gonna get a bad grade on my final assignment?” Jisung asks, lost.

Sighing, Mr Kim shakes his head and gazes at his student with eyes like an endless pool of honesty. “I want you to hand in something else. Don’t worry about getting in the deadlines, I’ll wait for you and grade this at the end of the semester. All I want is for you to write a story that means something to you. Don’t worry about the prompt, even, if that’s what’s making you feel limited. Just make me believe what you’re writing, Jisung.”

Nodding, Jisung finally understands the whole point of what his professor is telling him. Truth be told, Mr Kim is right– he does not care a bit about the story he wrote. While he can admit that he did a good job on it, he did well at writing about ghosts– the prompt for this semester’s final work (they focused on horror and mystery in literature this year)– he is ready to throw the papers into his drawer and never think of them again, for he just wrote what he was supposed to without giving it any minor significance. He might have described the emotions of the characters well, he might have used pretty words and astonishing abbreviations, but at the end of the day, if someone asked him how much the story he wrote means to him, he’d tell them that it mattered to him no more than a homework he had to complete.

“I understand, Mr Kim. I’ll… I’ll try again,” he says, nodding.

He’s rewarded by a gentle smile coming from his mentor, an expression full of understatement and honest care for his student. Taking a step back from him and leaning on the desk, the professor hints that he can go now, offering him one last sentence of condolence before he sets him out of the classroom.

“I’d hate for your talent to go to waste, Jisung.”

Smiling, although a little tight-lipped, the boy slowly walks to the door, nodding one last time before he leaves. “I’ll try not to disappoint, sir.”

The halls of the university are dark due to the stormy clouds shielding the sun from offering the light to the world. Sighing and checking the time on his phone, Jisung notices that he missed his last tram and the only way he can get home now is to jog through the pouring rain. Opening the glass door of the university building, grunting as he puts the hood of his jacket over his head, he runs through the falling raindrops, still thinking of the words his professor told him in the classroom just a few minutes ago.

Not looking in front of him as he runs, his body bumps into someone, making him utter honest, yet quick apologies as he jogs off after making sure the person is okay and didn’t drop anything, hating the way wet clothing sticks to his skin, making him feel almost a little claustrophobic. In the frantic hurry to get home as soon as possible, the boy doesn’t notice he dropped something on the floor–

the papers containing the latest story he wrote for the final assignment of his Creative writing class. Sitting in a puddle, somewhere in the middle of the street, the letters wash away with the afternoon rain, metaphorically erasing everything he wrote and didn’t care about in the past, moving him forward into a new direction.

Still, he looks behind his shoulder, ready to collect them from the ground just in case he might need them for something in the future, only to find the back of the person he just bumped into running away, a stack of white, water-stained A4 papers in their hands. Their walk is all too familiar to Jisung, the back of their head reminding him of something he’s experienced in the past, the sway of their hips and the jolt in their step making warmth erupt in his stomach at the fond memory that makes itself creep back into the boy’s head.

“It can’t be…” he mumbles.

The thought still fresh in his brain, the speculations making thoughts run around his mind faster than the speed of light, he opens up another Word document on his laptop as soon as he takes off his shoes in his mother’s new apartment, fingertips on fire. To write about something he cares for? Putting his everything into words that would mean something to him? It doesn’t seem as difficult right now.

Ghosts. The topic he found difficult to write about, for he’s never experienced anything paranormal before. He only tried to mimic everything he’s read about.

If anyone asked Park Jisung if he believed in ghosts, he’d tell them yes, however– for he has seen longing grow legs and follow him.

To write something he cares about, he decides– he’ll write about you.

He’ll write about the summer that even now, after so many months, feels like a dream.

409 notes · View notes

mingsolo · 1 year ago

Text

HELLA GOOD.

jinyoung x reader (f) / g: smut, jackson wang party au :kek:, angst, exes? to lovers, romance / wc: 4k / warnings: jaelousy mentions, jinyoung trying to sabotage yn's date, alcohol mentions, some swearing / r: 18+

done for the Project X collab! track the #projectx tag to read more. especially @flurrys-creativity entries to find some easter eggs from this story as well some for her own on this one ✸

Jinyoung exhales as he finally finds himself in front of the three level mansion.

A few people arriving at the party pass beside him through the stone path leading towards the main entrance. Well hidden between a few miles of pine and oak trees, the house is shining from all the lights being on inside it. The moon makes the lake surrounding it shine, the air is fresh and clean, and Jinyoung is hopeful for a moment that whatever he wishes to find at this party happens.

Standing in front of the house, he was hit with loud and chaotic energy. He could spot people whenever his eyes landed. The chatter of hundreds of conversations resonated even over the loud music.

He took out his phone and dialed your number. Straight to voicemail. You had blocked his number since two weeks ago, when you decided that what was going between you two was over. He opened instagram to see your recent stories, to remind himself of the reason he came to this party.

That fucking dress.

You were getting into his nerves. He could only imagine how good you would look once he had you in front of him.

Once he entered the house, he could almost get drunk by how much the whole place smelled like liquor and sweetness. He glances at the main hall, people crowded against the wall, drinking, laughing, making out. Same thing as he glances at the kitchen. Beer-pong, body shots, more making out in plain sight.

As he pushed himself between people towards the living room, he spotted a drunk Soonyoung dancing with a violent move of his hips, one hand on the back of his head, holding a bottle of vodka on the other. He was body rolling to the song playing, eyes closed, ear to ear smile as people cheered for him.

As he watched the spectacle, a few people bumped into him muttering weaker “sorry”. He looks away from Soonyoung’s magic mike show and looks out for you with no luck. A bunch of people kissing on the expensive looking leather couches in the living room. Jinyoung is relieved that you are in none of them.

He continues his way to the enormous living room towards the kitchen, when someone else bumps into him with rather force. “Sorry… hey” he finds his friend Hyungwon looking rather distraught. “Jinyoung, have you seen…” He cuts himself and sprints away without saying anything else.

“What’s wrong with everybody-” Jinyoung’s about to grunt when he is pushed again now by the familiar voice of his friend and party host, Jackson.

“Heeeeeeeey!” The raspy and already wasted voice of Jackson greets him right against his ear and Jinyoung swears he just left him deaf. “Brother! You're finally here!” Jackson hugs him tightly. The smell of vodka, tequila, cognac and every other type of liquor embraces Jinyoung as his friend greets him.

“Hey, you good?” Jinyoung's tone is concerned by his friend's consciousness.

“Better than ever baby, come on drink!” Jackson then tries to pour a drink from the vodka bottle he is holding into his mouth but Jinyoung pushes him back. “Come on, you won’t leave me hanging, are you?.”

“At least get a glass shot?.”

“No time for that, driiiiiiink!”

“I said no, I’m looking for someone.” He tries to distract the party host from pouring the whole bottle all over him.

“Maaan, I told you earlier when you asked, that she’s coming with someone.” Jackson whispers as he greets and smiles at the people waving and shouting at him as they pass by. “The tall foreign from economics or something.”

Jinyoung scowls. So you did come with that guy.

“Man, that dress she is wearing…” Jinyoung gives Jackson the stink eye and he throws his hands in the air mimicking being caught. “Listen man, I’m not blind.”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes at him, annoyed. “How’s Ice Princess treating you anyways?.”

Jackson blows raspberries, taking a shot from the vodka bottle. “If not for the alcohol, I would-” Just as Jackson begins rambling, Jinyoung hears the unmistakable tone of your laughter, even above the loud music.

“See you later.” he cuts Jackson off and begins walking to the center of the party. He sees you walk in, a 6ft blonde walking statue by your side, and he’s making you giggle.

Jinyoung feels his heart sink and the heat of his body rising. You couldn’t possibly like that guy, he looks nothing like your type. “And who is my type, you?” he imagined you mocking him, as you often did when he acted smug. He rolls his eyes at his own thoughts. What right did he have to think like this? It was him who wanted you to be his sex relief machine only. Wasn't it?

Entering the house looking for more drinks, you laugh politely to whatever Adam was telling you about Sweden. Your eyes mechanically search for a familiar face, one you hoped you wouldn’t find. You look back at your date to show that you are listening, even if you aren’t. Adam has been sweet all night and accepted coming to the party on short notice. You knew he liked you, he wasn’t really subtle about it, but even then, his vibe wasn’t clicking with you the way you thought it would.

Just as you were about to ask him to go get more drinks, the corner of your eye catched the figure of Jinyoung approaching you. Stupid Jinyoung, with his perfect hair, perfect shoulders, perfect face. You took a short but deep breath. As he gets closer, you notice he’s too shameless to hide the smirk on his face, or how his eyes roam through your body. He even had the nerve to rub his thumb over his bottom lip, knowing how much you hate/love when he does that.

“Y/n, wasn’t sure I would find you here.” he taunted, clicking his tongue out of reproach. “Thought you would stay home working on that project you told me about the other night.”

You scoffed, not willing to give him the satisfaction. “How could I miss the last party of the infamous Jackson Wang?, and I found some really good company to dare to miss it.” you smiled, linking your arm with Adam’s.

“Hi, how is it going?” Adam offered Jinyoung a handshake not really catching the tone of the conversation happening. Jinyoung arched his eyebrows and smiled before taking Adam’s hand, smiling at you mockingly. “Are you Y/n’s friend?”

“Yes.””No.”

Adam wiggles his eyebrows at the both of you, finding the whole scene amusing. You clear your throat, if your gaze could kill you were sure Jinyoung would be pulverized right there down to ashes.

“Anyway, we were just looking for something to drink, my throat is getting dry all of a sudden.” you dismissed Jinyoung but as you were about to step out Adam laughed and pointed out towards the kitchen across your point of view.

“Look at that!” He shouted, the three of you turned to see a wasted Hongjoong pouring tequila shots into a girls mouth, crashing his lips against hers to share it. Adam clapped and cheered something in Swedish that you couldn’t make up too.

“What are you doing coming with this clown?” Jinyoung taunts in korean. You look for something to defend your date with but the way he’s now whistling and cheering to the mess in the kitchen is not helping his case.

Jinyoung scoffs. “Has he even told you how hot you look right now?.”

“I…,” you don’t know how to reply to that, having Jinyoung come closer to you as he continues to eye you head to toe. You suddenly can’t breathe or think. Having him so close was always dangerous for you.

“What, cat got your tongue?.”

“Shut up, Jinyoung.” you push him away, taking all in you not to throw yourself at him by how good he smells and how hot he looks when he gazes up at you like that.

“So, babe, want something to drink?.” Adam’s voice made you finally stop glaring at Jinyoung and slowly turn over to your date.

“Babe?.” Both you and Jinyoung read each other's minds.

“By the way, are you with someone?.” He suddenly asks Jinyoung.

Jinyoung scowled, backing a step. “They are getting drinks.” he quickly lied. You looked at him not believing it for a second but couldn’t help feeling hurt.

Before either man could add anything more, you burst out of spite. “Well, hope you and whoever you are with have fun, now if you excuse us, we are going to get some drinks and probably make out.” You take Adam’s hand and practically drag him out of the living room, pushing your way between the sea of people as a remix of make it rain plays in the background.

“Gosh!” you grunted, now pushed back in a corner of the second floor living room. The moment you were out of Jinyoung’s sight. “I need to drink. A lot.”

“What was that about making out?.” Adam gets closer to you, his eyes shine with intent and you awkwardly smile. “Oh, about that I just…,”

“You still need a drink right?” He steps back and begins eyeing the space looking for alcohol. “I’m going downstairs and get us something, alright?.”

“Alright, meet you back… here.” Before you could finish he’s sprinting downstairs, leaving you puzzled. “He is so strange.” you mumble to yourself, before quickly looking over your shoulder, looking for signs of Jinyoung anywhere close.

You shook your head. The point is to forget that he is here, not to be on the lookout for him. You suddenly needed air. Pushing your way between people dancing, you made your way towards the outdoor patio. It was crowded there as well but at least it was open and you could ease the heat of the people cramped inside and the smell of alcohol mixed with perfume.

Jinyoung didn’t take long to find you outside on the outdoor patio. You were leaning over watching something amusedly. He saw how Adam from Economics sprinted to the kitchen, getting lost between the sea of bodies pushing against each other with loud cheering and chanting. It was his chance to just go up to you and make you leave the party with him.

Just before he was about to enter, he stopped. He admired your form, how pretty and beautiful you were and it pained him not being able to call you his.

Even if it's all on him.

Sex was a relief for Jinyoung. With you he had found someone who he could be comfortable enough with, and also someone who drove him crazy. But the moment you offered that he could stay the night, to share breakfast together, to go on dates… he remembered that person who he trusted, gave his heart and then betrayed him, breaking himself into a million pieces.

The moment he felt he was falling for you, he had to be an asshole. He had to make you feel like he wasn't falling in love with you, or he would end up in pain again.

It wasn't fair for you, that he knew. But what could he do if he was drawn to you like bees to honey?. He couldn't let you go entirely, he needed you to keep going. But it had to be like this, just little bits, just a glimpse of what a life with you could be.

Jinyoung remembered your face everytime you were excited to do something else with him, when you approached him after classes or caught up with him in the middle of campus. Your eyes lose light every time he said no to you, but you were addicted to him as much as he was to you. This new passion he found with you, it was burning him inside, making him remember how bad it was when he got let down by feeling things so intensely in the past.

Jinyoung knew that you wanted him to be yours, but something on him refused to give in. That’s what you have decided to shut him off, put distance between you, and there he was, making things difficult for you.

He toyed with the idea of just leaving and letting you be, it was for the best, but his feet refused to move. He spotted a mop of blonde hair coming up from the stairs. Adam walked outside where you were, and offered you a drink. He then got really close to you, and you backed up.

Jinyoung frowned. He will leave, but just after being sure the Swedish guy wasn’t making you uncomfortable.

The stars were so bright against the night sky, and for a moment you were hopeful that everything was going to be alright. You would just have a few drinks to ease the nerves of having Jinyoung around. Saying you would make out with Adam to get back at Jinyoung was stupid but you would be sure not to let him get any more ideas.

You leaned to the balcony after texting Adam that you would be waiting for him there, when a noise made you turn over. There was a girl in jeans running towards the lake, you squint to see if you could make out who it was but she had her back at you. Right after her, you spotted Minhyuk, the one in Communications, sprinting after her. She jumped on a boat and you couldn’t believe your eyes when Minhyuk threw himself at the lake chasing after her.

“Woah, that's some romcom shit right there…” you giggled, “I need some of whatever those two are on.”

“Hi there!”.

The grin disappeared off your face instantly as Adam shouted right behind you. “Oh my god, you scared me!”.

“Sorry…” he smiled, offering you a red plastic cup filled with tequila and sprite. “I also got this.” He showed a half emptied tequila bottle, and you smiled relieved.

“Th-thanks.” you took the cup and finished the drink in one go. You promptly pour another shot on your cup and finish it as well. Adam arching his brows at you.

“Believe me, I need this.”

“So, about us, back what you said there…” he started, getting closer to you. You backed up a little, not wanting to be embraced by him. “Yeah, about that…” you began, when the sound of the glass door opening up, Jinyoung stepping out.

“You won’t believe who’s down there!” Jinyoung shouted excitedly, coming closer to you. “The youtube guy… the one from Sweden!”

“PewDiePie??!” Adam shouted energetically. “No way!”

“Yes way, he’s down there right now giving shots to everybody.”

Adam smiled at you wiggling his tail like an overly excited dog. You looked at him not believing he was about to go downstairs and see if it was true.

“I have to see this!” He sprinted inside, shouting that PewDiePie was there, making people whisper and some of them even followed him out of curiosity.

“PewDiePie?,” You glared at Jinyoung.

“He’s that stupid, huh?.”

“I can’t believe you.” tears started gathering up. “What do you want, Jinyoung, why are you even here?”.

Jinyoung frowned. “Y/n, I saw you back up, you don’t want to be around this guy.”

“Is not your place to do something about it, we are nothing, remember?.”

“I- That’s not…”

“Just tell me, what do you want?.” you were tired of pretending Jinyoung’s rejection didn't hurt you. You were so blind believing you two could actually be together. Jinyoung lowered his head in silence.“You are so cruel.”

You stepped out of the patio, making your way between people with force. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry anymore.

Jinyoung felt his heart shrink by seeing you almost crying. He shouted after you but you didn’t stop. You were supposed to be in his arms, not running away from them. If he just opened up to you, you of all people would never hurt him… right?. He felt awful, thinking he was doing the same thing to you now, that dreadful feeling he so wanted to avoid getting ever again.

“Y/n!” he shouted, getting closer to you. He grabbed your arm, pulling you against him. “I’m sorry, please talk to me.” He softly put his hands in the back of your head and you couldn’t hold it any more. Tears begin to fall against his chest and having him wrapped around you makes you cry louder. It was because of him that you were crying, yet you felt comfort in no other.

Jinyoung felt awful. He had broken you first, and now he had to gather all the pieces. He had to make it right for you. “Come on,” He guided you back to the second floor towards a closed marble door. Jinyoung pushed it firmly a couple of times until it was open.

It was an office or studio, lots of books and neatly arranged office stationary placed on the desk and shelves. You walked in, surprised there was no one already inside either fucking or making out. Jinyoung closed the door behind him, leaning against it.

“Can’t believe I’m fucking crying at a Wang party, was told these were a blast.”

“Y/n…”

Jinyoung got closer to you, but you pushed him away. You studied him for a moment. There were those eyes, those bright eyes, genuine eyes. He loved you, that you knew, yet he wouldn’t dare to say it. “What are you so afraid of?.”

Jinyoung lowered his eyes, muttering a weak, “I'm sorry.” but it wasn’t enough. You got closer, and wrapped your arms under his until both were wrapped around his back. “You know I love you, but you need to let me go if you don’t want the same.”

You two stayed like that for a moment. He embraced you too as well. He let himself be enveloped by your essence and you pressed yourself against him wanting to remember what it felt to be so close. As you were about to break the hug, he pulled you up, not letting you.

“Jinyoung…”

He pulled apart a little, only to get a good look at you. He saw the shine in your eyes, the heat on your face and how you still have your arms wrapped around him tightly. He loved you so much, how much of an idiot he had to be to not trust you wouldn’t hurt him.

Outside the room, the boisterous sound of laughter and cheering exploded out more intensely, but even then, you hear Jinyoung clearly when he spoke. “I love you.” his eyes clouded over your lips, as he leaned forward and kissed you hurriedly.

It was mere seconds and you got your tongue down his throat, his face grabbing your face as you pressed yourself against him tightly. You slipped your hands on his sides, wanting to feel the burning of his skin. The sounds you made made Jinyoung hiss over your lips. He grabbed you, making you hug him with both arms and legs.Your mind was telling you to stop, you weren't even sure he had locked the door, but it didn’t matter. You wanted him right there, right now.

Jinyoung placed you at the center of the desk, pushing the stuff over it out of the way. You laughed breathily. Jinyoung gave you a smirk and dragged your legs until his hips were around your waist, his crotch pressed against your middle.

He kissed you feverishly and hurriedly, as if it was going to be his last time with you. Pushing your dress upwards he got a good sight of your lace underwear and groaned. He threw out his jacket and you leaned forward to unbutton his neatly ironed white shirt. Once you removed it you kissed his neck, earning small and controlled moans.

Soon enough both your moans echoed in the room, only the two of you could hear them. The noise coming from outside seemed like another reality. Jinyoung got shivers all over at the sight of you beneath him, your nails digging on his back, marking him. He was happy to oblige when you begged him to make you see stars.

He seated you in the desk, opening your legs wide before him. He gave you a dark look before burying himself between your thighs. He devoured you with his tongue, made you whimper and ran out of breath with the touch of his fingers.

Just as you were about to come down on his tongue, you could hear the loud buzzing of your phone from where you threw your bag on the couch next to him. Jinyoung stopped, making you whine. “Leave it…” you complained, when he quickly got your bag, taking out your cell phone.

“Answer it.”

“What?.” You looked at the screen, an unsaved number with the country code +46 on screen. “Jinyoung…”

“It’s him, answer it.” He ordered and you pressed the green button.

“Hell… oh” you moaned into the phone when Jinyoung slipped two fingers inside of you, he pumped them in and out slowly as you answered. “Fuck, uhm yes?.”

“Put it on speaker.”

You glared at him but he was fastening his pace, neglecting you the chance to be reasonable. You pressed the speaker button.

“Y/n? I’m back outside… I could… not… find… Pew…” The noise from where he was and your own moans made it difficult to understand anything he was saying.

“I.., uhm” you whimpered when Jinyoung spread your legs even more, quickly unbuttoning his pants. He dragged his fingers on your pussy, coating them with your arousal and stroked himself before you. “Fuckkk.”

“Huh? Where are you?.”

“I’m… ah, fuck.”

Jinyoung pushed himself into you with a single motion. You drop the phone from your hand and dig your nails on Jinyoung’s shoulders as he pounds inside of you back and forth. He groaned and pressed his head on the crook of your neck, breathing heavily against your ear. You were so tight and it took all of him not to load into you at that moment.

“Y/n?, Y/n?”.

Your fingers pressed again on his back, red lines showing on his shoulders. You moaned his name, he moaned yours. His arms held your legs across his waist, the desk resonating with each thrust of his hips. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered. “God, you’re tight.”

You smiled against the skin of his shoulders, your breathing matching with his. There you were, letting yourself be consumed by him as you swore you never would again. “Jinyoung…” you repeated long forgetting that the phone was still on call, that outside there was a guy looking out for you, listening to you moaning and crying Jinyoung’s name.

Jinyoung grabbed your legs and without removing himself from you, lifted you over, as he sat on the leather couch behind him. You kissed him again, adjusting yourself to the new position. “Ride me like you own me.” He ordered.

Fuck. You were done for. You rocked your hips on top of him until he cried your name over and over. You came not minding the mess you would leave behind. Once Jinyoung saw you bouncing on top of him, tears in your eyes, he was doomed.

He would do anything for you, anything you wished for, he will make it true.

He finally blew his load on you, until there was none left. You fell down, feeling like a ragged doll on his arms, energy drained out. He hugged you, wrapping his hands around your waist, kissing your shoulders.

“You’re mine.” he whispered, and you opened your eyes, moving your head to face him. “I love you, and I want to be with you.”

You wanted to say no to him, as he many times did, tell him that it was too late. But you knew it was bullshit. You wanted to hear those words more than anything, and finally hearing them made you incredibly happy. It wasn’t late at all. You still loved him, you still wanted him.

“I love you Jinyoung, I want to make you happy.” you kissed him softly.

“I do not deserve you, so I’ll work hard for you to feel like I'm worth having.”

You hugged him again, pressing yourself against him to feel his skin burning against yours. Then the sound of your phone buzzing broke your thoughts. “Jeez, do you think he realized what was happening?.” you laughed.

“No, he’s an idiot.” Jinyoung rolled his eyes and laughed too. The lines on the side of his eyes when he laughed genuinely showing up. You kissed them, and soothed his disheveled hair once more, right before continuing.

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