#pre crash au

[sunflower1experiment]

Jimmy x Reader

Pre crash anyway

Tw// slight nsfw?, thighs, Jimmy, harassment, cursing

in this it's simply you doing his hair while he rests between your legs.

It was quiet, your hands massage Jimmy's hair while water spills past him onto the tub, he was antsy at first. Why are you wasting time? To which you roll your eyes with a quick remark. "Keep acting a fool and your chair stays a mess and greasy. Jeez."

For some reason he always calmed down when you used his own logic against him, like the time he made that crude comment. You simply responded with, "Wooow Psych evals must be so useless for you to make such comments, but that puts at the top of needing some eval anyway so, you can come see me later on." He was silent, and didn't really harass Anya after that but with you it was arguments left and right. Sometimes he'd leave in a huff, but now here he is.

Snug between your thighs while you use a tow to cover his eyes, he rubs a hand over them then kisses your thigh tiredly. "How come you're catering to me now?"

"You were complaining about the showers, you act like everyone is out for you, and let's not forget that you get anxious easily. For someone who works with the Captain you're not very headstrong." The way you called him out sort of annoyed him, it made sense when he called Curly out and was able to read him. But for this to happen to him was a bit overwhelming, so he just used it as an opportunity to nuzzle your thighs again.

Once you finish with Jimmy's hair he relaxes and begins to cuddle you, "Lucky me..."

"Sure, lucky you. Let me know when you need help okay?" The copilot nods, his nose touching along your inner thigh then he'd press his face into them. "Okay, in exchange I can hold your thighs, right?"

"Sure Jimmy, you can totally do that...find some decorum please." The man stares at you with an eye roll but watches your hand rub his hair, it was obvious you had a slight soft spot for him. Yet there was a huge boundary, displayed between the two of you that he respects and yet also dismissed.

It was agitating watching this man silently defy you, while you gave him such a cold gaze until he looks away. Sometimes he'd get on his knees and rest on your lap. "I hate the way everyone looks at me...."

"That's just your mental state crumbling, best to do a pysch eval-"

"I hate the way you look at me! You hate me, don't you?" You watch him and then caress his face, "No. I hate how you reject the chances to get help and then wallow in self-pity...makes wish I could help but I can't, not if the guy I like rejects it."

Jimmy nuzzles your lap some more, letting tears shed down, "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry..."

"I know."

Jimmy sobs pathetically, and you hug his head.

[autisticlancemcclain]

prev

–––

Keith doesn’t sleep a wink the following night. He quickly packs a bunch of supplies into a pod, and then spends hours staring at the base's scanners, waiting for the castle to pop up. He doesn’t hesitate for even a second when it finally does, barely remembering to check in with Kolivan before speedily manoeuvring out of the base and into the castle’s waiting flight deck. 

As promised, the team is gathered there to meet him, clambering over each other to be the first to greet him when he walks out of the pod. It should be flattering, should make a pleased flush redden his skin from his neck to the roots of his hair. It’s everything he’s ever wanted; that kind of love, that kind of joyful acceptance, an excitement to see him. 

But he barely even notices. All of his attention is trained on the figure so far away from everyone else he’s practically shroud in shadows, stiff and stone-faced. Lance stands with a duffel clenched tightly in his fists, jacket zipped up to his neck and hood halfway pulled over his hair.

Everything he sees makes him want to fall over. He almost feels nauseous, and he’s not entirely sure why. Lance has his off-days, Keith knows this. There were days when Keith had to help Lance fight his way out of bed, and when he did the same for Keith. Keith has held him as he sobbed himself to pain on the observation deck floor. Keith has watched him get overwhelmed and mean and snappy and then guilty for days afterwards. 

But he’s never seen Lance like this. He’s never seen Lance…shrink, collapsing into himself so deeply, keep himself so distant. The closest thing he ever saw was when he came to Keith’s room talking about five lions and six paladins, about a seventh wheel.

I solved that problem, he thinks, increasingly desperate. Lance was backed into a corner so Keith threw himself out of the room to give him space. That was the point, that was the purpose, that is why he has stayed in a stupid grey bunk he hates and nodded blankly to masked people he’s not allowed to familiarise himself with and stubbornly refused to leave a man behind no matter how much trouble he gets in. 

He was supposed to have fixed things, and now everything has gotten worse.

“Keith!” Pidge screams the second he emerges from the door, sprinting at him and damn near tackling him to the floor. Despite himself and his dizzying confusion he smiles softly, squeezing her right back.

“Hey, Pigeon,” he says, and she must have really missed him because she doesn’t even deck him for it. 

“You need to call us more,” she grumbles at him, and he snorts and asks her how that holoprojector he asked her for is coming along. 

Before she can launch into yet another rant about how far from the realm of possibility that is, the rest of the team catches up to her, and this time he really does hit the floor. Luckily he lands sprawled on his brother, who only sighs fondly and flicks him on the forehead. 

“We’ve all missed you so much,” he says. “Not the same here without you, squirt.”

Because Keith has misses his brother, he refrains from turning around and throwing hands with him right in the hangar, because why would he call Keith that he’s a grown ass man, basically, not six, Shiro what the fuck. The team teases him anyway because they are the worst, but Keith rolls his eyes and takes it. Between Hunk’s bawling and Pidge’s snark and Allura’s hand gripped in his, Keith can almost pretend like he’s just back from a quick and risky errand, that everything is normal, that his family is just excited to see him and they’re gonna head off for dinner together in a few. The familiar foreignness of it all is almost settled around him like a heavy blanket.

Almost.

“I believe we have an exchange to get on with,” drawls a voice so pretentious it makes Keith recoil even before the cruelty of his words kick in. 

Lotor stands in the middle of the room like he’s centre fucking stage, hip cocked, inspecting his nails, casual and unbothered. A quick glance to the side confirms that Lance’s jaw has tightened at the comment, posture tensed further. Keith looks back to Lotor and wishes with his whole heart that he had laser eyes via Clark Kent so he could fucking obliterate him. He settles for intensely praying for his downfall to the universe, which isn’t enough but will have to be until Keith can sacrifice him for the greatest good or something.

An exchange. Like Lance is a fuckin’...low rate commodity, or something. 

Keith is honestly more disturbed by the fact that no one else seems to be terribly bothered by the comment. He wonders if he’s being too sensitive, if he’s reading into things, if his own hatred for Prince L’Oreal is clouding what could be a similar relationship to what Keith and Lance have, with all the insults and competitions.

The actual thought of that makes him physically gag. 

No, that’s not it. Keith is not mistaking the pain that is radiating off of Lance, the way the air itself in the castle feels wrong. 

“I’m ready to go if you are, Lance,” Keith calls, as softly as he can manage. Unfortunately it doesn’t manage to go far, and Lance only nods once, tightening the duffel over his shoulder and walking over. His steps are deliberate, at least, no downtrodden shuffling – there’s some stubbornness within him still. It’s better than nothing.

“Aw, no, already?” Hunk complains, sniffling. 

Despite the storm raging in Keith’s head, he manages a smile in Hunk’s direction, equally flattered and amused by the affection.

“We’ll be back, man,” Keith promises. “Mission is only supposed to take a few days. Maybe we’ll finish up early and I won’t tell Kolivan, huh, Lance? Spend a couple days here.”

He smiles as brightly as he can manage in Lance’s direction, receiving only a tight-lipped grimace in response, an attempt without the verve to follow through. 

“Yeah, sure.”

He gives the pile of teammates a wide berth as he climbs into the pod, disappearing quickly into the back. Keith tries to pretend his words weren’t sullied with bitterness.

It takes longer than he would like to finally bid everyone goodbye and crawl back into the pod, which he feels a little bad about. Both because he doesn’t want to feel like any interaction with his family is at all a burden, even a goodbye, and because he doesn’t want to keep Lance waiting. But he’s in a rough place right now, off-kilter and almost disoriented, so he cuts himself some slack, breathing deeply as he pulls out of the hangar and back into dead space. He puts the tiny but powerful thrusters up as high as they will go, zooming along at top speeds. He stays in the pilot’s chair, hand firmly on the yoke, until the castle is well out of view, until they are surrounded on all sides by endless darkness. Only then does he steel himself to put the pod on autopilot, to breathe deeply and turn around to face the oppressive awkwardness filling up the small space.

“Hey, Lance,” he says quietly, sitting gingerly on the floor in front of his seat. He’s relieved that Lance doesn’t straight up move away like he expected. He’s even more relieved to notice that Lance doesn’t tense up at his mere presence.

He barely acknowledges Keith past a nod of the head, though, which is depressing. Keith wants to ask another question, get more than a nod out of him so desperately it’s actually embarrassing, but he manages to restrain himself. He knows maybe better than anyone else what it feels like to be crowded by questions when you already feel like you’re suffocating. Keith will just have to wait for Lance, however long it takes.

Thankfully, he doesn’t wait very long.

“I didn’t get any details.” Lance’s voice startles Keith, not because he isn’t expecting it – all he’s been doing is waiting for Lance to talk – but because it’s nothing like he expects. His voice is almost normal, not strained hoarse or even bitter like it was earlier. If Keith squeezes his eyes shut and pretends the last several months didn’t happen, he can almost convince himself that he and Lance are sitting at the briefing room table late at night, heads bent together, trying to iron out a plan for their upcoming mission. He wants that back so badly he aches with it, but the ache is familiar enough now that he thinks he can bear it.

“It’s, uh, a quintessence hunt,” Keith explains. “Or, well, kind of. Hopefully. Kolivan gives a lot of details at once and he speaks in this super depressing monotone and I swear to God I do everything I can to pay attention but at some point it just sounds like the teacher in Charlie Brown. So. That’s my bad.”

He has to force air back into his lungs by the end of it and he’s red in the face to boot. That’s maybe the most words he’s ever spoken in one go (hyperbole whatever let him live) and of course he sounds like the biggest dweeb. Why hasn’t becoming a super cool space ninja made him more aloof and mysterious? This isn’t fair. What happened to gay rights.

To his great surprise, his dorky ramble is rewarded by a flash of Lance’s smile, so brief he would have convinced himself he imagined it if he hadn’t spent so much of his life seeking it out. It’s gone faster than it existed, Lance’s expression falling back into something carefully blank, but the fact that it was there at all is the biggest relief.

Lance takes the tablet Keith hands to him, mission file pulled up and ready to go. He squints slightly as he reads it, tilting his head to the side. “We have to go through…wait, Keith, is this right?” He flips the tablet over to Keith, zoomed in on a pair of coordinates. “This is, like, right next to a black hole. RIght right next to, worryingly next to. I don’t like how close this is. This pod is not really built for that, I don’t think.”

Keith doesn’t recognise the coordinates, so he can’t really say, but there’s a fair bit riding on this mission, so he doubts Kolivan has fucked this particular detail up. 

“Well, it’s either safe or no longer our problem.”

“I suppose.”

A little disappointed that Keith’s attempt at a joke didn’t do much to lighten Lance’s expression, he lets them lapse into silence, tilting his head back onto the seat and closing his eyes as the pod zooms forwards. 

They have a long journey ahead of them.

–––

next

[normal-girl-in-an-odd-world]

The more I've been looking into the story of Mouthwashing, the more I start to have conflicting feelings about Curly...

Because of this, I'm unsure of how to handle his character and story in Oddwashing...

Mostly because I view Pre-Crash and Post-Crash Curly as two completely different characters.

(God i wish i could articulate this better 😓)

[lesbiankoby]

now we just need to see how dmc5 plays out in your fateswap au 🍿🍿🍿

i don’t know!!!!!!!!!!! been kicking ideas around with quen but im feeling very [wiggles hand back and forth] about it. i mean in the larger scale it’s not been very hard to spitball that switching them around should still draw from the general trajectories of their normal damage… dante is easier then vergil in a lot of ways vis a vis cracking him like an egg honestly. i just really dont want to mindlessly replicate vergils issues onto him and vice versa!

au’s are a fun thought experiment in how somebody would get from point a to point b while being as recognizable as possible

[oldirontender]

local old man falls in love with the meanest most terrible person alive. what happens next over the course of a century will shock you

[byberbunk2069]

Girls Night in the glow of the neon Yaiba sign. w/ @gibson-girlboss's nomad OC, Anna.

[innytoes]

Leverage + JATP crossover AU?? Like. Imagine Eliot and Sophie specifically having to deal with Caleb Covington

-I am so tickled by this idea. Like, they didn't even die, they're still alive. Like, you know that if ghosts were real, at least Sophie and Eliot would know. Parker too, but she's just like: um what's the big deal? They're just people who died. They're still awkward to talk to. (She is pissed about the whole, they can walk through walls and don't set off alarms thing, but then she realises they can't actually steal stuff so it's fine.)

-Parker has 100% heard someone skateboarding through an empty museum while she was stealing a painting, and just been like: that's none of my business.

-Nate never knew about the ghosts because everyone who did agreed it would send him off the deep end trying to get his son back.

-Somehow, Sophie got into the club (as a guest while grifting) and somehow managed to avoid the whole 'Caleb steals your soul' thing and he's still mad about it.

-You know she 100% enjoyed the show, though. She was sad she had to slip out to finish her whole grift before midnight.

-Eliot knows about Area 51/52, he knows about the Ghosts, okay. Moreau 100% had dealings with Caleb. Eliot totally had a stare off with Caleb's Chair Twink. No he will not have anything to drink, he's bodyguarding and also his Granny taught him better than to accept food or drink from what may or may not be one of the Fair Folk.

-Hardison is NOT OKAY when he learns about the ghosts. He is even less okay when he realises the others all KNEW.

-Breanna is just super stoked that the Phantoms in Julie and the Phantoms are real ghosts.

-Things hit the fan when they realise Caleb Covington owns the soul of Willie. Either Sophie or Eliot recognises him in an old photo album Nana was showing the team (much to Hardison's embarrassment because she was showing them his old tween pictures).

-Because Willie was one of Nana's foster kids. He was only with her for a few months before he got hit by that car, but he was One of Theirs and the fact that his soul is trapped is Not Okay.

-Let's go steal back a Willie.

[kaseyskat]

my dndads polycule game is impeccable nobody can get on my level i have an entire cass/nicky/sparrow/rebecca au that sits in my head and last night i was daydreaming about terry/lark/veronica with a side of qpr lark/terry/grant that crown is MINE

[blondienursee]

ANRIETTE SCHNEIDER

hii ! i ' m anriette and i work on the pony express tulpar as the resident nurse, my prounouns are she / her and im 20 years old and cajun german; feel free to ask me anything in my ask box!!

◞◟　𓎟𓎟　 ✦　　𓎟𓎟　　◞◟

[battlevann]

uhmmmmm swap au mutuals how do we feel about drummer or bass player Zacharie

[slmcclsvoid]

I was “talking” to Camron the other day and yk how he has these really cool wings? Like you’d think his parents came from royalty or some shit

so I asked him about it and all he said was “👎”

FUCK YOU MEAN “👎”?!???

[trans-estinien]

cannon Eleutherios and unsundered azem au Eleutherios are so vastly different to each other. and its very fun to think about

one of them got sundered so his shards are the ones to experience all the things the game presents us with. Eleutherios simply exists to haunt the narrative. hes been dead for a long time and will continue to be dead. Koda'an knows absolutely nothing about Azem besides what the game gives us.

the other has lived through everything. the first final days, the sundering, the rise and fall of the allagan empire, all of it. and it has changed him so much. only in dawntrail will unsundered azem au Eleutherios really start feeling like himself again.

[wildernesslaughtered]

tag drop pt. 3 !!

v. ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ. // pre-crash

v. ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡʜᴏ ɢᴏᴛ ꜰʀᴏᴢᴇɴ? // season 1

v. sᴛɪʟʟ sɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴄᴏʀɴᴇʀ ɪ ʜᴀᴜɴᴛ. // ghost au

v. ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴀʀʀʏ ɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇ. // survival au

[snsjsnsmsmsm]

.

[yaniluvs]

a song , that sounds like you

[ 한 ] ✷ ‎. . sleepover with your best friend, just like before. except that . . it isn't ?

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑏sf!han ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff , humour , crack , best friends to lovers , uni au , skz ensemble . 71OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ LiBRARY ⟢ cw. kisses , jokes , intimacy . ┆ 💌 ⋮ requested drabble .ᐟ ֹ ₊

yani's note 𑁍ࠬܓ THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ~I.5K WORDS. yani, dont over-write and turn every simple thing into a longfic challenge: go-> status: failed. THATS WHY I TOOK SO LONG. but anyways.... i read this like a gazillion times and im very slightly unhappy about it????? idk. but i got sick of it at some point so i didnt rly proofread for the final time. soooo finally another jisung fic lol >< posted way too much abt seungmo.. not that im complaining hehe. tribute to my beloved permed-jisung and pre-shaved jisung🙏 you're missed plenty. enjoy reading, thanks to anon for the req. <3 comments, likes, req./asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading, love <3

the night felt like any other. it was nothing new. nothing unusual.

jisung had crashed at y/n’s dorm more times than he could count, so many that they’d stopped calling it a "sleepover" years ago. it was just… what they did.

tonight was no different—except maybe it was.

jisung flopped onto her bed dramatically, limbs splayed out like a starfish. "i'm dying."

y/n, arms crossed, raised an unimpressed brow. "you literally just walked in."

"my point." he turned his head toward her, grinning wide, dimples pressing into his cheeks. "the walk from my dorm to yours? brutal. my legs almost gave up. i nearly saw the light. i need some support here,"

"what you need is exercise, ji," she laughed, already walking past him toward the kitchen. "come on lazy ass, we’re cooking."

jisung groaned, rolling onto his stomach. "cooking? can’t we order food? delivery is, like, the peak of human civilization."

"you mean the peak of your laziness."

"same thing."

"you’re cooking today."

jisung immediately sat up. "i’m sorry, what?"

"you heard me."

"y/n, have you ever seen me successfully make anything that isn’t watered-down instant ramen or burnt eggs?"

"exactly why you need to learn." she shot him a knowing smile, opening the fridge. "come on, chef-nim, apron up."

jisung scoffed. "you act like i own an apron."

"you act like i don't have a spare." she tossed a black apron his way. he caught it with a dramatic sigh, slipping it over his tee. "this is humiliating."

y/n simply tied her own apron around her waist, moving swiftly around the kitchen. jisung, however, stood in the middle of it like he was lost in a foreign land.

"so," he said, rocking on his heels, "what are we making, masterchef?"

"some fried rice, with stir-fry for the sides."

"sounds safe enough. do i get a knife?" his eyes lightened up.

y/n turned to him, eyes full of doubt, hands on her hips. "do i look like i trust you with a knife?"

he clutched his chest. "ouch."

"jisung, the last time you touched a knife, you almost lost a finger."

"it was one time!"

"one time too many." she handed him a bowl instead. "crack the eggs."

"i can do that," he said confidently.

y/n watched as he picked up an egg, tapped it on the edge of the bowl—nothing. he hit it again. still intact.

"jisung."

"hold on, it's just being stubborn."

"you're literally supposed to—"

before she could finish, he smacked the egg with full force. it exploded in his hand, yolk dripping between his fingers. he blinked.

"…okay. that was aggressive."

y/n burst out laughing. "oh, good lord.."

"why are you laughing?! this is tragic!" he held up his hand dramatically, as if he'd just lost a battle.

she wiped away tears of laughter. "you’re such a disaster."

"and yet you still keep me around."

"i really question why, sometimes."

jisung wiggled his eyebrows. "because you love me."

"debatable."

"wow. you wound me."

she handed him another egg. "try again, but gently this time."

he pouted but followed her instructions. on the second try, he succeeded. barely. a little bit of shell fell into the bowl, but he picked it out quickly, flashing her a victorious grin.

"see? improvement."

y/n shook her head with a fond smile. "barely."

as she moved on to frying the rice, jisung leaned against the counter, watching her. the warm glow of the kitchen lights softened her features, and the way she effortlessly moved around—it was second nature to her.

"you're so good at this," he murmured absentmindedly.

she glanced up. "at what?"

"everything," he said simply.

her movements stilled for a second before she rolled her eyes, turning back to the pan. "corny."

"honest."

she pushed his forehead lightly with her fingers. "shut up and hand me the soy sauce."

jisung grinned, grabbing the bottle and sliding it over the counter toward her. "see? i am useful."

"debatable."

jisung gasped. "you really enjoy hurting me, huh?"

y/n only smiled as she stirred the rice.

they fell into a comfortable silence after that—jisung humming some random tune, y/n focusing on the food. it was normal. routine. nothing new.

except maybe it was.

because jisung found himself staring at her a little longer than usual.

and yn, for some reason, felt a little warmer than the stove’s heat should allow.

the aroma of warm rice, sizzling kimchi, and soy sauce had filled the small dorm, wrapping them in the kind of comfort that only home-cooked food could bring. y/n hummed softly as she scooped the steaming fried rice onto two plates, making sure to add an extra spoonful to her best friend's because she already knew he’d ask.

jisung, sprawled out on the floor like he had no bones in his body, watched her with a lazy grin. "you really know how to treat a man."

"you’re more of a babygirl, but okay," she replied without missing a beat, setting the plates down on the small coffee table in front of them.

"excuse me? i am very much a grown adult."

"sure," she snorted. "a grown adult who can't crack an egg."

jisung gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "low blow."

yn only grinned as she grabbed the remote, flipping on the tv. they didn't even bother picking something to watch—just let some random show play in the background while she scrolled through a playlist on her phone.

and just like that, the room filled with their favorite songs.

the playlist hummed in the background, weaving through the warm, dimly lit dorm like a familiar embrace. soft indie melodies blended into old tracks from their high school days, each song a quiet echo of late-night car rides and whispered confessions. nestled between them were jisung’s own songs—songs he had written on restless nights, songs y/n had begged him to release, songs he pretended not to care about being in the playlist but secretly loved seeing there.

the air smelled of soy sauce and garlic. jisung sat cross-legged on the couch, his loose shirt and plaid pajama pants slightly wrinkled. his fluffy brown hair that he'd recently gotten permed, much to y/n's pleading, was tousled, curls falling over his forehead, casting soft shadows over his sleepy eyes. he scooped up a bite of fried rice, humming in approval as he chewed, blissfully unaware of the way y/n was watching him.

she sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, chin resting lazily against them, gaze fixed on him with a softness even she didn’t notice. he looked so at home, so effortlessly him, sitting there with his cheeks puffed out from the food she made, eyes drooping slightly from exhaustion. a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

he always ate with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t had a proper meal in days, shoveling food into his mouth like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“you’re staring,” his voice came, teasing yet laced with fondness.

y/n blinked, heat creeping up her neck as she quickly looked away. “i am not.”

jisung grinned, swallowing another bite. “liar.”

but he didn’t press further. he only smirked to himself, going back to his food, pretending he didn’t notice the way she studied him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

what he wouldn’t admit—what he barely admitted to himself—was that he did the same thing.

when y/n wasn’t paying attention, lost in the flickering candlelight of their tiny dorm, jisung found himself staring. he always did. the glow of the fairy lights made her skin look softer, her features delicate and warm. her hair, slightly messy from their earlier chaos in the kitchen, framed her face in a way that made his heart ache.

she was wearing her pyjama set, and the sleeves were bunched up around her fists as she absentmindedly traced circles against the couch cushion, after a bite herself.

she was beautiful. in the quiet, in the soft spaces between their banter, in the way she existed in his world so effortlessly.

“now,” she called out suddenly, breaking him from his trance. “you’re staring.”

his breath caught in his throat, but he recovered quickly, flashing his usual cheeky grin. “i am not.”

“liar.”

their laughter mingled with the music, and for a moment, the weight of their hidden feelings melted into the warmth of the night.

jisung exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he shoved another spoonful of rice into his mouth. he chewed slowly, eyes flickering between the half-empty plate and y/n, her expression unreadable except for the teasing glint in her gaze. his own voice filtered through the small dorm, warm and unfiltered, singing lyrics he once scribbled down at 2 a.m., never expecting them to be heard by anyone but himself.

he swallowed, running his tongue over his bottom lip before muttering, “you do this on purpose.”

y/n tilted her head, feigning confusion as she picked at her food. “do what?”

“this.” he gestured vaguely toward the speaker, his voice quieter now, almost sheepish. “make me listen to myself.”

she shrugged, stuffing another bite of rice into her mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world. “your music is good.”

jisung let out a small, breathy laugh, but there was something uncertain in the way his fingers tapped against the bowl. “you don’t have to lie to make me feel better, you know.”

y/n blinked, chopsticks pausing midair. “i’m not lying.”

“you say that.” he glanced at her, then away, focusing on a loose thread on his pajama pants. “but you’re my best friend. you’d tell me it’s good even if it wasn’t.”

she frowned, setting her chopsticks down with a soft clink against the ceramic. “sung..”

he didn’t respond, just stuffed another bite into his mouth, chewing like he was trying to make himself busy. y/n sighed, shifting so she could look at him properly. the glow of the fairy lights cast gentle shadows on his face, highlighting the quiet vulnerability in his eyes—the kind he tried so hard to hide.

“look,” she started, voice softer now. “i don’t put your songs in our playlists just because you’re my best friend. i put them there because they belong there.”

jisung stilled, fingers tightening around his spoon.

“you write music that makes people feel something. i know because i feel it. i always have.” she toyed with the hem of her top. “and maybe it’s because i’ve seen you go through every stage of it. the late nights, the self-doubt, the way you talk about music like it’s the only thing that makes sense in your life sometimes.”

he swallowed thickly, staring at his plate like it held answers.

“i don’t just like your music, jisung. i believe in it. i believe in you.”

silence settled between them, thick and heavy, but not uncomfortable. jisung’s throat bobbed as he licked his lips, finally daring to meet her gaze.

something unreadable flickered in his eyes, something fragile and hesitant and real.

“…you always say things like that.” his voice was quiet, uncertain. “and i never know what to do with it.”

y/n smiled, small and knowing. “you don’t have to do anything. just don’t forget it.”

he stared at her for a moment longer, chest tightening with something he didn’t quite have the courage to name. then, exhaling softly, he looked away, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“i won’t.”

they ate comfortably, stealing bites from each other's plates despite having the exact same food. it was normal, the way their chopsticks clinked against each other in midair, the way jisung would groan dramatically after every bite, acting as if he’d just tasted the best thing in the world.

"marry me," he said, mouth full.

y/n gave him a look. "chew first."

he swallowed, grinning. "okay, now will you marry me?"

"no."

jisung clutched his chest. "you are cruel, woman."

"you are an idiot, man."

"a lovable idiot," he corrected, shoving another spoonful into his mouth.

she rolled her eyes but didn't deny it.

a beat of silence passed between them, the kind that wasn't awkward but rather filled with something unspoken. jisung glanced at her between bites, again, watching the way the light from the tv flickered against her skin.

she looked… soft. comfortable. the same as always, but maybe not quite.

"so," y/n spoke suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts. "how was your day?"

jisung blinked, needing a second to process the question. they spent most of their time together, but during classes, they went their separate ways. it was rare for them to actually talk about what happened when they weren't in the same place.

"uh," he started, stabbing his rice absentmindedly. "it was fine. boring. had a music composition lecture, but hyunjin fell asleep and snored loud enough for the whole class to hear."

y/n laughed. "no way."

"swear to god. professor park just stared at him for a solid minute before moving on."

"did no one wake him up?"

"i tried, but he swatted me away like a fly."

she shook her head, still laughing. "what else?"

jisung hesitated for a moment before answering, "i worked on a song between classes."

her expression softened. "the one you told me about?"

"yeah." he looked away, suddenly a little shy. "i, uh, actually finished the demo."

"jisung!" she smacked his arm lightly. "why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"i dunno," he muttered, playing with his chopsticks. "didn’t seem important."

"of course it’s important," she said firmly. "can i hear it?"

he met her eyes, something flickering behind his own, before he looked down again. "maybe later."

she didn't push, just nodded. "okay. your turn to ask."

he raised a brow. "ask what?"

"about my day, genius."

"oh. right." he leaned back, lazily twirling his chopsticks. "so, how was your day, my dear best friend whom i love and adore?"

she snorted. "it was fine. boring, mostly. but i had this duo project in business class."

jisung hummed in acknowledgment, taking another bite. "who’d you get stuck with?"

"a guy named sunwoo."

jisung froze mid-chew, his spoon hovering just inches from his lips. his brows furrowed for the briefest second before he blinked and forced himself to keep chewing, though suddenly, the fried rice didn’t taste as good anymore.

“i see..” he said after swallowing, voice casual. too casual. “never heard you mention him before.”

y/n shrugged, taking another bite. “yeah, we never really talked until today. he’s nice, though. smart, too. i was kinda worried i’d get stuck doing all the work, but he actually pulled his weight.”

jisung scoffed lightly, poking at his food. “that’s the bare minimum.”

she snorted. “true.”

silence stretched for a beat, the playlist shuffling to another song. jisung tapped his chopsticks against the edge of his bowl, trying to ignore the weird feeling curling in his stomach. it wasn’t a big deal. just a project partner. nothing to think about.

except—

“he was pretty talkative, too,” y/n continued, oblivious to the way jisung’s grip on his spoon tightened. “like, at first, it was just about the project, but then he started asking me random stuff. like, my favorite color, what i do in my free time, my favorite coffee order—”

jisung let out a short, almost incredulous laugh. “your coffee order? what, is he planning on getting you one next time?”

she blinked, considering. “i dunno, maybe. that’d be nice.”

jisung nearly choked on air. he coughed into his fist, shaking his head. “pfft. wow. sounds like he’s… really interested in your business skills.”

y/n laughed at that, nudging his leg with her foot. “oh, shut up. he was just being friendly.”

yeah, okay. sure.

he forced a grin, shoveling another bite of rice into his mouth like it would somehow get rid of the weird, nagging feeling inside him. “so, what else did he say?” he asked, tone still light, still playful. still pretending he didn’t care.

y/n hummed, thinking. “oh, he told me i have a really nice smile.”

jisung almost dropped his chopsticks.

“oh! and that i have pretty hands,” she added, wiggling her fingers in front of his face. “which is funny, ‘cause i don’t really get the whole hand thing, but—”

“he said what?” jisung cut in, voice cracking slightly.

she blinked up at him, confused. “...that i have pretty hands?”

jisung squinted at her like she was missing something obvious. “who compliments someone’s hands?”

“i don’t know! i mean, i guess they’re kinda nice…” she examined her own fingers, flexing them under the fairy lights. “they do a lot for me, you know? writing, playing, cooking—”

“okay, but still,” jisung interjected, trying not to sound too whiny. “that’s like—textbook flirting.”

y/n snorted. “no, it’s not.”

“yes, it is!” jisung threw his hands up. “first, he asks about your coffee order—classic move, by the way—then he calls your smile nice? and now your hands?” he pointed a dramatic chopstick at her. “that’s next-level, y/n. that’s, like, hand-holding agenda.”

she gave him a flat look. “i think you’re overreacting. personally i'd love making friends like that.” she laughed.

“no, you’re underreacting!” he groaned dramatically, flopping onto the couch, staring at the ceiling like it personally offended him. “i can’t believe this. my best friend is so oblivious.”

y/n just giggled, poking his knee. “oh, come on, ji. he was just being nice. and it’s not like i’m interested in him or anything.”

jisung perked up at that, a little too quickly. “you’re not?”

she shook her head, stuffing another bite of rice into her mouth. “nope.”

something unspoken settled in the air.

jisung let out a quiet breath, something inside him easing—but he still had an annoyed little pout on his lips. “still. he was flirting. you just don’t see it ‘cause you’re you.”

“hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means,” he huffed, crossing his arms, “that you’re too cute for your own good, and guys like him are gonna keep trying to hit on you while you remain completely, utterly unaware.”

y/n blinked, caught off guard.

jisung realized what he said half a second too late. his ears turned pink.

“…anyway!” he cleared his throat, suddenly stuffing his mouth with rice. “this is good fried rice. really, really good.”

y/n just watched him, something unreadable in her gaze. a small, knowing smile tugged at her lips.

“dork,” she muttered under her breath.

and if jisung, in his flustered state, caught the way she was staring at him now—soft, fond, admiring—he didn’t say a word.

"sunwoo. what kind of dumb name is that?"

she laughed, shaking her head.

soon, the food disappeared slowly between them, the plates scraping softly as y/n absentmindedly pushed the last bits of rice around with her chopsticks. jisung, on the other hand, had long since finished and was now leaning back on his palms, his head tilted toward the ceiling, looking entirely too satisfied. he stretched with a deep sigh, his tee riding up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin before settling back down.

"i’m convinced you were a chef in a past life," he said, breaking the silence, his voice laced with a kind of sleepy contentment.

y/n smirked, still focused on her plate. "i’ll take that as a compliment."

"it is a compliment," he assured her, turning his head to face her. his cheek was slightly squished against his shoulder, making him look more like a sleepy puppy than a grown man. "i’m genuinely scared of what would happen to me if you weren’t around. i’d probably live off ramen and instant rice."

"you already do that when i’m not around. and still make it taste bad."

"exactly," he said, as if she had just proven his point. "my body is, like, seventy percent sodium at this point."

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. "that explains a lot, honestly."

jisung gasped dramatically. "are you saying i look like someone who eats too much sodium?"

"i’m saying your diet is concerning," she teased, finally setting her chopsticks down and leaning back as well. the food had settled warmly in her stomach, and the atmosphere felt hazy in the best way—soft, familiar, comfortable.

jisung groaned, letting his head fall back. "this is why i need you in my life. you balance out all my self-destructive tendencies."

y/n snorted, stretching out her legs. "i’m your best friend, not your dietitian."

"best friend and dietitian," he corrected lazily.

she hummed, letting the conversation drift into a natural lull. the tv played quietly in the background, an old sitcom neither of them was paying attention to, and their playlist continued to shuffle through songs they had both heard a thousand times before. outside, the city was alive, but in their small little bubble of a dorm, it felt like time had slowed down just for them.

jisung shifted, sitting up properly, and y/n could feel him staring before she even turned to look at him. "what?" she asked, raising a brow.

he hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before finally saying, "i want you to be in my song."

the words were simple, casual even, but they made something in y/n’s chest tighten. she blinked. "what?"

"my demo," jisung clarified, his voice softer now, more careful. "i want you to sing in it."

yn let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "jisung, you know i don’t do that."

"why not?" he tilted his head, brows furrowing slightly. "you’re literally so good. like, so good."

she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "it’s just a hobby for me, you know that."

"okay, but why just a hobby?" his voice had that familiar edge of insistence, the same one he used when he really, really wanted something. "you could do so much more with it."

she shrugged, eyes flickering to the tv even though she wasn’t really watching. "it’s not the same for me as it is for you," she said honestly. "music is your thing, jisung. you breathe this stuff. it’s not like that for me."

"but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it," he argued, leaning in slightly. "i love your voice, y/n. you know that."

she swallowed, feeling warmth crawl up her neck. he had told her that before—countless times, actually—but something about the way he said it now felt different, heavier. "it’s just not something i see myself doing seriously," she admitted, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve.

jisung was quiet for a moment, his eyes studying her face carefully. then, with a small, teasing smile, he said, "okay. but what if it’s just for me?"

she looked at him, confused. "what do you mean?"

"i mean," he started, tapping his fingers against his knee absentmindedly, "forget about, like, doing music professionally or whatever. i just want you on this song. not because i think you should be an artist or anything—just because it’s us. i dunno. i feel like it’d sound better if you were in it."

y/n bit her lip, uncertain. she liked singing, she always had, but she never really thought about it beyond the occasional harmonizing with jisung when he played guitar, or the times she mindlessly hummed while cooking. it was never something she considered putting out there for other people to hear.

jisung, however, was looking at her with those big, expectant eyes, his wide smile softened at the edges. "just think about it," he said, nudging her knee with his. "no pressure. but i think it’d be cool. i mean, imagine—our voices together in a song? legendary."

yn laughed, shaking her head. "you’re ridiculous."

"i’m right," he corrected.

she sighed, resting her chin on her palm. "i don’t know, ji."

he pouted, but there was no real disappointment in his face—just patience, quiet and steady. "i’ll send you the demo," he said after a beat. "just listen to it. see if you like it."

she nodded slowly. "fine. i’ll listen."

jisung grinned, victorious. "that’s all i ask."

another silence stretched between them, this one softer, almost charged in a way y/n couldn’t quite explain. the tv droned on in the background, but neither of them was paying attention.

jisung shifted again, stretching his legs out next to hers, their knees knocking slightly. he exhaled, tilting his head back against the couch. "i like nights like this," he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost like he was talking to himself.

yn turned to look at him, watching the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones under the dim light. "like what?"

"just…chill." he cracked one eye open, looking at her. "you. me. food. music. no stress."

she smiled softly. "yeah. me too."

jisung hummed in acknowledgment, closing his eyes again. "we should do this more often."

y/n didn’t respond right away, letting the words settle between them. she thought about how much time they already spent together, how their days were filled with each other in some way or another.

and yet, something about the way he said it—like he wanted more, like he wasn’t just talking about casual hangouts but something deeper—made her stomach flutter in a way she didn’t entirely understand.

she swallowed, nudging his foot lightly with hers. "we already do this all the time, idiot."

jisung smiled, eyes still closed. "yeah. but i mean more."

y/n’s heart did something weird in her chest, but before she could dwell on it, jisung sat up suddenly, stretching his arms above his head. "anyway. we should clean around before the angry yunah gets back and starts lecturing us about leaving dishes out."

the moment was gone, dissipating like smoke, leaving yn slightly dazed in its wake.

she nodded, shaking off the strange warmth in her chest, pushing herself up as well.

"right. let’s clean up."

and just like that, the night continued, soft and slow, something unspoken lingering between them—unnoticed, or maybe just ignored.

. . .

the dishes had been washed, the leftovers tucked away, and the night stretched lazily ahead of them, the warm haze of comfort lingering in the air. the tv was still on, playing something neither of them was paying attention to, but y/n could feel the way the atmosphere had shifted—thicker, heavier, filled with something unsaid.

jisung sat on the floor again, back resting against the couch, his fingers absentmindedly drumming against his knee. now, his sleeves were pushed up to reveal his forearms, and his hair was messier now, some strands sticking out in different directions. he looked soft like this—less like the flirty, chaotic mess he usually was and more like the boy she had always known, the one who could say a million things with just a glance.

y/n sat across from him, legs crossed, arms draped over her knees as she studied him. she hesitated for a moment before saying, “play it for me.”

jisung blinked, caught off guard. “huh?”

“the song,” she clarified, shifting slightly. “i wanna hear it.”

he stared at her for a second before scoffing. “you never wanna hear my songs before they’re done.”

“um, wrong, you always reject to play them for me before they're done.” she pointed, trying to sound casual. “i feel like listening everytime. and tonight.”

“and my guitar is right here, so..” she laughed.

something flickered across jisung’s face—surprise, maybe, or something softer—but he didn’t question it. instead, he reached for her guitar, a brown one, which had burgundy, floral borders over its peaks and edges. it had been sitting next to the couch all night, like it had been waiting for the right moment.

he adjusted it on his lap, fingers finding the familiar curves of the wood, the smoothness of the strings beneath his touch. the way he handled just.. guitars had always fascinated her—not just with skill, but with love, like it was an extension of himself, a second voice that spoke when words weren’t enough.

y/n watched, her chin resting on her palm as she took in the tiny details she had seen a hundred times before but never really noticed—the way his brows furrowed in focus, the way his lips parted slightly as if he were already singing in his head, the way the warm light from the tv cast soft shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the fullness of his bottom lip.

he cleared his throat. “okay, but don’t judge, ‘cause it’s still rough.”

she rolled her eyes. “i never judge.”

he gave her a look, but it was softened by a small smile before he looked down at his guitar again. his fingers moved, the first chords filling the room—gentle, familiar, warm.

and then, he sang.

his voice was low at first, careful, like he was still unsure if he wanted to let her hear it. but as the melody flowed, he eased into it, his tone settling into that effortless, raspy sweetness that always made something deep in y/n’s chest ache.

she watched, completely entranced, as his eyes fluttered shut, lost in the song. the way his throat moved as he sang, the subtle shifts in his expression, the slight crease in his brow when he hit a note just right—it was all so undeniably han jisung, and it was beautiful.

she had heard him sing countless times before, but something about this was different. maybe because it was just the two of them, the world outside forgotten. or maybe because she was finally allowing herself to see him, really see him, in a way she hadn’t before.

his voice filled the room, smooth and raw all at once, laced with emotion that made her chest feel tight. and the lyrics—god, the lyrics.

it was soft, bittersweet, almost like a confession hidden within the melody. he sang about late nights and lingering glances, about feelings that hovered on the edge of something more, about someone who felt like home.

and y/n couldn’t help but wonder—who was it about?

her breath caught slightly as she watched him, taking in the way his lashes cast the faintest shadows on his cheeks, the way his fingers moved effortlessly over the strings, the way his lips curled slightly around certain words, like he meant them.

she felt something warm spread through her chest, something unfamiliar yet oddly comforting, like stepping into sunlight after days of rain.

when he finally strummed the last chord, the room settled into silence, save for the distant hum of the city outside.

jisung let out a breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. “so… what do you think?”

y/n was still staring. she realized it a second too late and quickly looked away, blinking. “it’s…” her voice felt stuck in her throat, so she cleared it, trying again. “it’s beautiful, ji.”

he smiled, looking down as if trying to hide how much her words affected him. “yeah?”

“yeah,” she said softly.

another silence settled between them, this one different from the ones before. it wasn’t awkward—it was thick, weighted with something neither of them dared to name.

jisung shifted slightly, leaning her guitar against the couch. his fingers tapped against his knee again, a nervous habit. “i meant what i said earlier.”

y/n tilted her head. “about what?”

“about you being in the song,” he said, his voice quieter now. “your voice would fit perfectly. you have this way of making things sound… real. i dunno how to explain it, but i think it’d be better if you were part of it.”

“i know you don’t take singing seriously, and you did say you'd listen to the actual demo.. oh which i know means a no, almost,” he cut in before she could refuse, “but just this once. just for this song.”

y/n exhaled, her fingers curling around the fabric of her sleeve. “why does it matter so much to you?”

jisung opened his mouth, then closed it, as if he was debating how honest he wanted to be.

finally, he shrugged. “because it’s us.”

her heart skipped.

“i mean, not us us,” he added quickly, looking away. “just… our voices. together. i think it’d be nice.”

y/n swallowed. “i don’t know if i’d be any good.”

“you would,” he said, no hesitation. “and i’d be with you the whole time. we’d do it together.”

together.

the word settled deep in her chest, warm and heavy.

she looked at him again, at the hopeful glint in his eyes, at the way he was watching her like she was something more than just his best friend.

and maybe, for the first time, she let herself wonder—what if she was?

she exhaled slowly, giving him a small, hesitant smile. “okay.”

jisung blinked. “okay?”

“i’ll do it,” she said, and his entire face lit up in that way it always did when he was really happy, the kind of smile that made her stomach flip in ways she didn’t fully understand.

“you won’t regret it,” he promised, excitement buzzing in his voice.

she wasn’t sure if that was true.

because something told her that once she sang with him, once their voices blended together in a song meant for something deeper—

there would be no going back.

and that terrified her more than anything.

. . .

sprawled out on jisung’s bed, surrounded by the soft hum of the laptop fan and the distant city sounds filtering through the window, y/n felt weightless. not in the way that meant floating away, but in the way that meant she was exactly where she was meant to be.

the air smelled faintly of fabric softener, of jisung’s vanilla-and-woodsy shampoo, of warmth. the blankets beneath them were slightly rumpled, evidence of a thousand previous sleepovers, tangled limbs, and late-night conversations that bled into early mornings. the glow from the laptop screen cast shifting patterns onto the walls, moving in time with the video they were watching.

it was their friend group’s latest dance cover, the kind they always hyped up in their group chat but never actually watched until they were together.

“look at hyunjin’s face,” jisung snickered, pointing at the screen as hyunjin executed a particularly dramatic spin, his expression intense. “bro thinks he’s in a movie.”

y/n burst into laughter, hiding her face in her hands. “no, because he so does that on purpose. you just know he was practicing in front of a mirror.”

“i bet he stared at himself for hours,” jisung agreed, shaking his head. “such a drama king.”

they continued watching, throwing in their own commentary as felix’s fluid movements took over the screen, followed by minho’s signature sharpness, yunah’s grace, and minseo’s precise footwork. their friends were insane, and as much as they teased, the admiration was real.

“minho-hyung’s on another level, though,” yn murmured, her head tilted slightly. “look at the way he controls his movements.”

jisung hummed in agreement. “yeah. he’s scary good.”

a comfortable silence settled between them, only the sound of the music playing through the laptop speakers filling the air. the bed dipped slightly where jisung had shifted, moving to lean on his elbow. yn could feel the shift in weight, the slight press of his arm against hers, the warmth of his body radiating closer than before.

she turned her head slightly—just a fraction—to look at him.

and that was when it happened.

something… shifted.

it was subtle, but it was undeniable. like a string pulled taut between them, an unspoken question hovering in the air.

jisung’s eyes were still on the screen, but his fingers had stopped absentmindedly tapping against the blanket. his jaw was relaxed, but his lips were slightly parted, like he had just thought of something he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say out loud.

the glow from the laptop flickered across his face, highlighting the curve of his cheek, the slope of his nose, the way his lashes cast delicate shadows against his skin. his hair, slightly messy from the way he had been lying down, fell softly over his forehead.

and then, as if he could feel her looking, his gaze flickered to hers.

it wasn’t immediate. it wasn’t rushed.

it was slow.

deliberate.

his eyes met hers, and for the first time in a long time, neither of them looked away.

the music in the background faded into something distant, something unimportant.

the flickering light, the sound of their breathing, the way the air seemed to press down on them—it all blended into something almost dreamlike.

jisung’s gaze dipped, just for a second, to her lips.

and y/n’s breath caught.

it wasn’t new, being this close. it wasn’t new, lying next to each other, watching something, talking about everything and nothing.

but this?

this was new.

this was different.

she could feel it in the way the space between them seemed to shrink, in the way her pulse thrummed in her ears, in the way jisung swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly.

his hand twitched—just barely—against the blanket.

and then, before she could even fully process it, he moved.

slow. hesitant. but sure.

his fingers brushed against hers, a touch so light it could have been mistaken for an accident. but neither of them moved away.

yn exhaled shakily, her heart a wild drum in her chest.

and then, suddenly—

their lips met.

soft at first. just a press—a quiet, unsure thing that barely lasted a second.

but then she leaned in.

and he did too.

and it wasn’t just a kiss anymore. it was something more.

jisung’s lips were warm, careful, but there was a hunger beneath it, something restrained, something that had been waiting far too long to be acknowledged. his fingers found her wrist, featherlight at first before gripping just slightly, grounding himself.

her hands curled into the fabric of his tee, and he let out a quiet exhale against her lips, like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

the laptop screen continued playing, casting shifting lights across their skin. the blanket beneath them was soft, but nothing—nothing—felt softer than this. than him.

he pulled away first, just enough to breathe, just enough to look at her.

his eyes searched hers, as if trying to understand what this meant.

as if asking, did we just cross the line?

but the thing was—

maybe there had never been a line in the first place.

maybe they had been here all along, just waiting for the right moment to realize it.

their breaths tangled in the space between them, warm and unsteady, still trembling with something unspoken. the moment felt like it stretched infinitely—long enough for y/n to take in the way jisung’s eyes flickered, dark pools of hesitation and something deeper, something unreadable.

his fingers, still curled loosely around her wrist, twitched, but he didn’t pull away.

the glow from the laptop continued to flicker, painting soft golds and muted blues across his face, across the fabric of his tee, across the slightly uneven threads of the blanket beneath them.

she felt warm.

not just from the shared heat between them, but from something in her chest, something that felt like a slow burn, like a realization creeping up on her.

jisung exhaled, his lips parting slightly as if to say something, but then he stopped.

she blinked at him, suddenly aware of the way her heart was still hammering. loudly. so loudly she swore he could hear it.

“…we just,” she said, as if confirming it to herself.

“kissed.”

jisung let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah. yeah, we did.”

silence. not awkward, but charged.

y/n wet her lips, suddenly hyper-aware of the lingering sensation of his against hers. soft. he was soft.

then, jisung groaned, burying his face into the pillow. “oh my god. did i just ruin us?”

she blinked, before laughing softly. “you’re literally so dramatic.”

“i am not,” he mumbled into the fabric, voice muffled.

“you are. like, so dramatic. like—oscar-worthy dramatic.”

jisung lifted his head just enough to glare at her, though the way his nose scrunched up made it less intimidating. “okay, miss i-just-kissed-my-best-friend-and-now-i’m-still-here-for-some-reason—why are you not freaking out?”

y/n tilted her head. “do you want me to freak out?”

“no?” his lips quirked. “maybe?” he groaned again, flopping onto his back, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers. “i just—wow, okay, so we really did just kiss. that happened.”

she rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow, her fingers playing with the loose threads of the blanket. “do you regret it?”

jisung turned his head to look at her, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. he just looked.

his gaze trailed over the shape of her nose, the way her cheek was still slightly flushed, the way her hair had fallen over her shoulder, a few strands resting against her collarbone.

then, he whispered, “no.”

her breath hitched.

jisung swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly. “do you?”

a beat of silence.

“…no.”

another stretch of quiet, but this time, it was softer. like a shared secret, like something that no longer needed to be questioned.

then, jisung shifted, reaching up lazily, fingers brushing against the ends of her hair. “okay. so. now what?”

she huffed a small laugh, flopping back onto the pillows beside him. “i have no idea.”

“that makes two of us.”

they both stared at the ceiling for a long moment, the sound of the laptop’s fan whirring quietly in the background.

then—

jisung turned his head toward her again, watching the way her lips pursed slightly in thought, the way her fingers absentmindedly traced shapes onto the blanket.

slowly, carefully, he reached out, resting a hand against her arm. “can we—just. stay like this? for a bit?”

she turned toward him, eyes softening. then, instead of answering, she simply curled closer, letting herself nestle into his side, the fabric of his tee brushing against her cheek.

jisung let out a slow breath, his arm naturally slipping around her, his fingers resting against the dip of her waist.

she was warm.

he could feel her heartbeat, steady against his ribs, in sync with his own.

the scent of her shampoo filled his senses—something sweet, something vaguely floral, something hers.

the sound of their breathing intertwined with the faint music still playing from the laptop, a mix of their favorite songs.

jisung sighed, letting his cheek rest against the crown of her head. “you’re kinda dangerous, you know?”

yn hummed sleepily. “oh? why’s that?”

“because i don’t think i’ll ever want to sleep without you now.”

she smiled against his chest, eyes fluttering closed. “good thing i’m not going anywhere, then.”

and for the first time that night, jisung felt like maybe—just maybe—things had fallen into place exactly the way they were always meant to.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan

[pctaldrunk]

@dreams-of-fate asked : please wake up. please. (su.bai or fei.chun) - A MEME (ACCEPTING)

A PALE smile curls slowly at lips - his eyelids are still heavy but hand finds hers slowly by touch, squeezing her fingers with faint pressure. Voice is hoarse and scratchy but touched warm regardless as he finally cracks an eye open. "...Were you worried?" Reaches, careful not to stretch stiff and aching limbs too much, to touch her face, knuckles brushing past her cheek. "...Don't worry. I'm good at surviving."