" I really wanna dance tonight. Feel a little bit dangerous. "
ABOUT ME:
london/cowboy/may — broke college student — 21 — any pronouns!
mbti: entj + gemini
nationality: raaaaaaaaaaaah america /hj (save me please)
lang: 中文/en all ok
fav color: brown/green
ult groups: nct (all units), enhypen, skz, txt, aespa, (g)-idle, riize, & zb1 (casual listener of many groups)
biases: doyoung, chenle, winwin, riku, jay (en), han (skz), soobin, ningning, soyeon/yuqi, anton, matthew/taerae
what do i do here:
make memes + shitpost (mostly nct content, occasionally others)
thirst (but that’s a given)
random rambles/meta posts that demonstrate i do occasionally use my singular brain cell.
reblog content that sparks joy in me
also, i write fics on @winwintea so you should check that out
"做我的情人 I know you want it."
BLOG RULES:
be respectful at all times AKA no hate speech, bigotry, bullying, harassment, spamming and the like, towards me and to others who interact with my blog
do not plagiarize my posts !!
minors (anyone whose 18th birthday has not passed yet) please do NOT interact with my 18+ posts, but anything else is fine to interact with. (blog mostly sfw with a lot of cussing, so i probably won't have any 18+ posts, but just in case 🤞)
asks are ALWAYS OPEN. i love talking to people please talk to me 🥺 ask me questions hi.
i think as an nct account on tumblr i have to say something about mark’s departure even tho i lowkey haven’t posted in a bit…
well if i’m being so fr this was my initial reaction BUT
however winwin’s contract expires in JULy so i’m actually cooked
anyways.
being a nctzen has been great, and although i don’t have this emotional attachment to mark like i do to other members, i want to make it clear that it is okay to feel the way ur feeling right now. nct makes up such an important part of our lives that do not feel guilty about ur reaction right now. don’t feel selfish about wanting him back even if it’s his own decision to leave.
cherish all the memories and moments that we have with mark!! because those will never be replaced.
just know you are NOT alone in how you are feeling. the entire community is under stress right now, and if you ever want someone to talk to my dms are always open <33 even if i never post that much anymore i’m always like on tumblr 💀 so yes !!!!
as for the future of my works. if i decide to write for mark again, that’ll depend on my mood and how much inspo i have for writing. i’ll let you guys know if that changes though, but i currently have no works planned for him atm. (other than mark lee vs the world, which I WILL FINISH ONE DAY TRUST)
PAIRING ↬ na jaemin x fem!reader (feat. zhong chenle)
TAGS ↬ angst, romance, lots of feelings, queer, bisexual people exist, idol x idol kinda but not really, im queen of jaemle nation fight me, happy pride month (it's august but idc every day pride month), also written in jaemin pov bc i hate myself (i'm never doing it again.)
WARNINGS ↬ angst
SUMMARY ↬ his favorite color is yellow. in color theory yellow is often used as a way to describe platonic relationships. because that's all na jaemin will ever have. platonic love.
WORD COUNT ↬ 3.8k words
AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ just wanna let people know i do not hardcore ship idols, this is literally just a story and it's not a reflection of their actual selves. so like don't cancel me omfgjahds. i was so scared to post this, this fic has been in development hell for months but i promised @spacejip so....
PLAYLIST ↬ yellow - yoh jamiyama; boy bi - mad tsai; sofia - clario; sweater weather - the neighborhood; ghosting - mother mother; nobody - mitski
I ALWAYS KNEW I WAS DIFFERENT.
Even before I understood the words for it. I never settled, always switching between boy and girl, between friendship and longing for something deeper. Sometimes I’d catch my reflection in shop windows and wonder why my heart skipped when the boy with the crooked smile walked by, or when the girl with the sunflower dress laughed at my jokes.
I just couldn’t seem to decide, and well that was the problem I guess.
By the time I was nine, my mother had begun to notice my odd hesitations when asked about crushes and how I’d like to confess to a girl someday. One Saturday morning, as I dusted the trophies lining our mantel, she paused before me with a mug of coffee in hand “Jaemin,” she said, her voice soft, yet also nervous, “I think you like both boys and girls.”
Her words weren’t a question. She already knew the answer.
I nodded my head for confirmation. I’d never said it out loud before, but hearing her say it in that way made it real in a way that both terrified and relieved me. She set her mug down and reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. “I love you,” she whispered, “and you’ll always be safe with me.”
But then her expression shifted, “The world isn’t ready for boys like you,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “So let’s keep this just between us for now.” I studied her face. Not once did she ever look disappointed, but instead always carried a worrying look upon her eyes. Outside our front door lay a world that might not understand, or worse, might judge.
I learned early on to tuck my truth into hidden places and whisper it only in dreams. In daylight, I became good at smiling along, at telling half-truths and nodding when I should. But at night, I was reminded that being different was both my curse and my gift.
Then came Zhong Chenle.
Or, as I liked to refer to him as: the human megaphone
And, unfortunately, also the boy who would go on to ruin my life.
But I didn’t know that at the time.
I first met Chenle when I was ten. He moved into the house next door with twelve suitcases, a dog louder than he was, and a zero respect for indoor voice etiquette. The first time we met, he rang our doorbell and introduced himself. I opened the door to a boy with a bowl cut, wide-gapped teeth, and this blinding grin that made me forget how to speak for a full five seconds.
“Hi! I’m Chenle. I’m from Shanghai. You’re my new best friend,” he declared.
I blinked. “Uh… what?”
“You have a trampoline. I saw it. Let’s go.”
And just like that, we were friends.
Chenle didn’t knock on doors. He burst through them. Literally. The first week he lived next door, he climbed in through my bedroom window because he “wanted to see if it worked like in the movies.”
It did not.
He got stuck halfway in and kicked over my desk lamp in the process. He still insists that it was my fault, somehow.
He was loud. He was nosy. He told me his favorite animal was a dolphin “because they’re smart and scream a lot, just like me.” (His words not mine.) He drank milk like it was a personality trait and claimed he’d become a millionaire when he was older. He didn’t need to ‘become’ one though, cause he was already a millionaire. His family was completely loaded.
And I loved him. God, did I love him.
I didn’t know it instantly. It wasn’t the kind of love you recognize, anyway. At first it was just the comfort of having someone close. We spent years growing up like two peas in a pod. We had a standing Friday night ritual of junk food and horror movies that neither of us had the guts to admit scared us. We'd stay up until 2AM pretending not to be terrified, jumping at every creak and then laughing until our stomachs hurt.
Sleepovers blurred into weekends, which blurred into seasons. We built forts in my living room. We argued over Mario Kart so loudly that my mom made a rule that “no one named Chenle is allowed to enter the house after 9PM on weekdays.
By the time we hit middle school, Chenle had taken to calling me his “number one.”
“My number one sidekick,” he’d announce dramatically, throwing his arm around my shoulders while we walked home.
I’d snort, shoving him off. “I’m not your sidekick. You’re my sidekick.”
“In your dreams. I’m the main character. You’re the tragic subplot.”
He’d always grin after saying that, oblivious. I’d grin too, although maybe less oblivious.
Because at some point, in the middle of all the chaos and teasing and sleep-deprived laughter, something shifted. I started noticing things I shouldn’t. Like how his laugh had changed. I started seeing it differently. Or how his hands had gotten bigger, and when I ruffled his hair, my heart would do this annoying flipping thing like it was trying to escape my chest and launch itself at him.
That’s when I realized my first real crush wasn’t some girl who brushed by me in the halls, or a senior who looked cool leaning against lockers.
It was Chenle.
My best friend.
The boy who once tried to convince me that bees were government spies.
I hated it.
Not because I didn’t like him, like I clearly did. I hated it because it changed the rules of everything. How could I sit next to someone during a movie knowing my fingers are twitching to hold theirs? How could I hear “you’re my number one” and not wonder if it could ever mean something else?
Spoiler alert: I didn’t. I just laughed. I shoved him harder. I hid behind sarcasm and jokes and really long sips of soda whenever he got too close. I buried it. Deep inside my soul.
Because if I told him, I might lose him. And losing Chenle? That wasn’t an option. Not then. Not ever.
So I kept the secret. I played my role. I smiled when he made dumb jokes and called me his “ride or die.”
But part of me kept whispering: I love him. And he’ll never know.
In terms of high school cliques, Chenle and I were placed somewhere between semi-popular and beloved chaotic pests. We weren’t the jocks, but we were the ones who people invited to parties just in case they needed some crazy shit to happen. Mostly Chenle. I was more of a corner-wallflower-watching-me-spontaneously-lick-someone’s-arm kind of guy.
So when the whispers started about a new transfer student, I barely cared at all.
“She’s from somewhere fancy,” someone whispered behind me in the homeroom.
“I heard she studied abroad in like, five countries, so her family is like rich rich.” said another.
“Bro. She wears strawberry clips in her hair.”
Chenle perked up. “Strawberry clips?” he repeated, spinning in his chair. “That's either peak fashion or someone trying to start a cult. Either way, I respect it.”
“Calm down,” I muttered, not bothering to look up.
“No. You don’t understand. This is important. Fashion statements mean she’s either really weird or really cool. I need to know which.”
“You say that like you don’t own a hoodie with a dolphin eating pizza on it.”
“And that hoodie changed lives,” he replied solemnly.
Naturally, we got our answer when the classroom door creaked open and you walked in.
You weren’t like anyone I’d ever seen before. You didn’t just enter a room—you landed in it. Head held high, eyes scanning the class like you were appraising a room of overpriced art. Your uniform was regulation, sure, but somehow you made it look like it belonged on a fashion runway in Tokyo. And there, clipped into your hair on either side, were two fat, ridiculous plastic strawberries that glinted in the fluorescent light like they knew they were starting something.
I blinked. Chenle gaped.
You introduced yourself with a smile, and somehow your voice made the classroom feel warmer. It was terrifying. I immediately went back to pretending to read. Chenle, of course, did not.
“Hi! I’m Chenle,” he said as you passed our row. “Welcome to whatever level of academic purgatory this school is.”
You raised a brow. “Thanks? I think?”
“Don’t worry, I’m the unofficial welcoming committee,” he added, gesturing to himself. “And this guy next to me—” he kicked my foot under the desk, “—this is Jaemin. He’s cool, in a broody, possibly-vampire kind of way.”
I looked up. Just once.
You smiled at me. It was small, polite. You probably forgot it a second later.
I didn’t.
“Hi,” I said, trying not to sound like my throat had been replaced with sandpaper. “Nice clips.”
Your smile widened just enough to make me regret every life choice that led to this moment. “Thanks. They remind me not to take anything too seriously.”
Chenle clapped once, loudly. “See? ICONIC.”
You laughed. And just like that, you were in.
It was like watching magnets meet. You and Chenle clicked instantly. loud to loud, weird to weird, chaos to chaos. He made a joke, you added the punchline. You rolled your eyes, he rolled with it. If Chenle was a human sparkler, you were a box of matches, and every time the two of you talked, the hallway got a little brighter and a little more flammable.
“Have you ever tried wasabi KitKats?” he asked you once at lunch.
You didn’t even blink. “I ate three and hallucinated.”
Chenle gasped like he was witnessing true divinity. “I knew it wasn’t just me!”
That was day 5 of knowing you. On day 6, the three of us were grouped for a science project, and by day 7, Chenle had already given you a ridiculous nickname (I will not repeat it here on the grounds of secondhand embarrassment). You didn't even flinch. You just fired one back at him and kept walking like you'd been part of this dumb dance all along.
And me?
Well… I was there.
Reluctantly. At first.
See, I’ve never been good with change. New people throw off my rhythm. And you weren’t just new—you were disarming. The kind of person who could insult someone and still have them thank you afterward. You took up space, not in a loud way, but in a comfortable-in-your-own-skin way. The kind of confidence people fake. But with you, it was just… real.
So yeah, I held back. Answered your questions with shrugs. Laughed when it felt safe. You didn’t seem to notice. Or if you did, you didn’t push.
Which somehow made it worse.
Because then one afternoon we were all sitting on the floor of the library, fake-studying for a history test, and I realized I was laughing. Like, really laughing, because you’d just impersonated our history teacher’s monotone voice and Chenle’s laugh at the same time, and I genuinely thought I would choke on my own spit.
You looked at me like you’d just unlocked a new level. “See? He can laugh,” you said, triumphant.
And I hated how good that made me feel.
After that, it was just… us.
The three of us. A trio.
Lunch breaks became sacred rituals. You’d bring snacks, Chenle would bring gossip, and I’d pretend I wasn’t enjoying the way you both pulled me into your tornado of nonsense. We’d sit on the floor behind the gym building to escape the sun and the noise, passing chips and bad jokes like currency.
Group projects became borderline illegal. We got nothing done, but our PowerPoint slides had amazing content.
We had doodles on each other’s notebooks. Nicknames that made zero sense to anyone else. Inside jokes about pigeons and the government. You’d steal half my lunch without asking. Chenle would throw pencils at your head. I’d sigh and clean up after both of you.
It was fun. Too fun.
And yet, somewhere along the way, I started feeling like I was always walking a half-step behind you two.
It wasn’t anything either of you did. Not on purpose. But I’d notice the way you’d look at Chenle first when something funny happened. How he’d instinctively hand you the last piece of candy. How your conversations sometimes stretched on without me, like I was background noise to your main act.
And I hated that I noticed.
Because we were fine. We were good. I wasn’t jealous. I wasn’t anything.
…I was just—
There. On the edge of something I didn’t want to name. Laughing when you both laughed, trailing behind when the hallway got too crowded, watching as the space between you two narrowed by the day.
It was easier not to think about it. Easier to ignore the tightness in my chest when Chenle called you by a nickname he hadn’t used on anyone else. Easier to smile, make jokes, and pretend I was still in control.
Because if I thought about it too long?
I might start realizing things I wasn’t ready to face.
It starts slow.
Like a leak in the ceiling you don’t notice until there’s a puddle on the floor.
One day I’m sitting across from you two at lunch, peeling the label off a juice box, and I catch Chenle looking at you.
Not the way he looks at spicy ramen or a sale at the convenience store. No. This was different.
He looked at you like you were something to be memorized.
And I froze. Juice box half-peeled. Air caught in my lungs like a glitch.
Because I’d seen that look before.
In bathroom mirrors. In stolen glances. In my own eyes.
I started seeing it everywhere after that.
The way he leaned closer when you spoke. The way he remembered little things about you — your favorite gum flavor, how you hated when your sleeves got wet, how you always liked cinnamon on hot cocoa.
I watched you laugh at something dumb he said and lean into his space like it was yours to take. And he let you. Of course he let you.
And the part that broke me wasn’t just that he liked you.
It was that I did too. I liked you both.
Then came the sleepover.
Chenle’s living room. Popcorn everywhere. A horror movie on mute. You were half-asleep, slouched on the floor pillow. I was curled up on one end of the couch, scrolling through my phone and trying not to acknowledge the emotional chaos ongoing in my brain.
Chenle flopped between us, laughing at something stupid, his arm brushing yours like it had done a hundred times before.
And then… he leaned over.
Rested his head on your shoulder.
Didn’t say a word.
Just rested.
You didn’t move. You didn’t even blink. You just tilted your head a little, like it was normal, like it was okay, like this was something you both did now.
I couldn’t breathe.
I stared at the TV, pretending to watch, heart pounding. My mouth was dry. My skin felt too tight.
I don’t even know what I was jealous of. Him? You? The space between you?
Or maybe just the fact that I wasn’t there. That I couldn’t be.
That I was watching someone I wanted melt into someone else.
I stayed up that night after you both fell asleep.
Chenle was snoring like a lawn mower, limbs flung out like a starfish. You were curled up in a blanket on the floor, hair in your face, softly breathing. I sat in the dark with my knees to my chest and stared at the ceiling.
Because what do you do when the two people you love most are standing right next to each other, and you know you’ll never be enough for either?
I thought I was doing a good job.
Like pretending, keeping it together, or smiling when I was supposed to. Laughing when I had to. Memorizing the exact distance I could stand from you without feeling like my chest was going to cave in.
I told myself I could handle it. The trio dynamic, the shared jokes, the way you always seemed to look at Chenle a second longer than you did me. I’d made peace with being on the sidelines. Or at least, I thought I had.
And then you pulled out the gum. “Limited edition,” you said, grinning. “Spearmint. Only the cool people get a piece.”
“Guess I’m getting two,” Chenle announced, already reaching for one.
You swatted his hand. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” You handed out pieces one by one until the pack was nearly empty.
“Yo, toss me one?” I asked casually, too casually, already stepping forward.
You blinked, glanced down at the foil. Then your face shifted a little. “Oh,” you said, voice softening. “That was… the last one.”
It was in fact the end of the pack. Chenle was already unwrapping it, mid-chew, completely unaware of the tiny little earthquake that had just ruptured my insides.
“Wait,” Chenle said, catching the shift in the air. He turned to me, holding out the gum with a shrug and that easy, careless smile. “You want it?”
It should’ve been simple.
Say yes. Take the gum. Laugh it off.
But instead, I just… froze.
Because it wasn’t about the gum. It was never about the gum.
It was about how effortlessly he offered it to me. How kind he was without knowing it. How easy it all came to him with you, with everyone. And how suddenly, in that moment, I realized.
He’d always be the one who got the last piece.
Of everything.
Of you.
My mouth opened. Then closed. Then it opened again. I think I managed a smile. Or something that could’ve passed for one.
Then I turned around and walked away.
Didn’t explain. Didn’t joke. Didn’t look back.
Just left.
It started with a text.
[You]: lunch tmrw? chenle has music club. ur not allowed to say no. i’ll bring grape juice.
I stared at it longer than I should’ve.
Part of me wanted to ignore it. Part of me wanted to throw my phone into a river.
[Me]: if there’s no grape juice i’m suing
And that was that.
We met behind the gym, our usual spot. Same cracked tiles. Same half-broken bench. You were already sitting when I arrived, legs swinging slightly as you balanced a lunch tray in your lap. When you saw me, you raised a can in greeting. “Your gross purple sugar water, as promised.”
I sat beside you, trying not to let our knees touch. “Wow. A romantic.”
“Please,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m a walking rom-com. But like… the low-budget kind.”
I snorted. “So self-aware. I’m proud of you.”
And just like that we slipped into the rhythm again. Jokes. Teasing. You flicked a crumb at me when I said your rice balls were lopsided. I mimed choking on your soda when you tried to psychoanalyze my favorite potato chips. It was easy. It was safe.
Almost.
Because in the quiet that came between bites and laughter, I caught myself looking at you. Not like I used to, but with something softer. Sadder. Like admiring a painting you know you'll never be able to take home.
Your hair caught the light just so. Your lips were curled in that kind of smile people don’t realize they’re wearing—the kind that comes from being at ease, from knowing you’re seen.
And in that moment, it hit me all at once:
You were happy.
Without Chenle here, without the noise and the banter, you were still you. Still bright. Still strange. Still lovely in that way that made my ribs feel too small.
And for a brief, flickering second—I imagined it.
Us.
Just us.
Me handing you the grape soda. You laughing at my dumb jokes. No triangle, no third, no half-steps behind.
But that was the thing, wasn’t it?
It wouldn’t be real. Because I’d still be thinking of him too.
Still catching myself looking for his reaction when you smiled. Still waiting for his voice to jump into the conversation with something wildly unhelpful but weirdly profound. It was never just one of you. It was always both.
And if I couldn’t love you without loving him… Then I couldn’t love either of you the way you deserved.
You nudged my arm, snapping me back. “You okay? You’ve got that ‘I just composed a sad indie ballad in my head’ look again.”
I chuckled. “Just full of bad poetry and spicy tteokbokki.”
“Tragic,” you said, mock solemnly. “At least you look pretty while suffering.”
That made me smile. And hurt. At the same time. I looked at you again and something inside me settled. Quietly. Like dust after a storm.
This would be the last time we’d do this—just us. You didn’t know that, but I did.
Because I’d made my decision.
I loved you. I loved Chenle.
And I couldn’t have either of you.
So I’d carry that love the way you carry an old photograph—worn, soft around the edges, a little blurred. Beautiful. Untouchable. But still carried with you.
You tossed me a napkin as I stood up to leave. “You’ve got sauce on your mouth, drama king.”
I wiped it without looking and grinned. “Thanks. I live to impress.”
You laughed. And it sounded like every version of goodbye I’d never have the courage to say out loud.
Weddings are funny.
Everyone says they’re about beginnings—the start of something new, something shared. But when you're standing on the outside, watching it all unfold from behind a wall of hydrangeas and polite distance, weddings feel more like endings.
And this one?
This one felt like the final chapter of a book I dog-eared years ago, hoping I'd someday be brave enough to finish.
The ceremony was beautiful. Of course it was. Chenle’s family did everything big. There were gold accents, string quartet, lots of laughter that bounced off the walls. Your side was smaller, but no less warm. You walked down the aisle with your head held high. Like you did once before.
Even now, you refused to blend in.
Even now, you stood out.
And Chenle looked like he belonged nowhere else but at the end of that aisle. Nervous smile, fingers twitching at his side, eyes locked on you like gravity had chosen a new north. He looked the same, somehow. But older. Softer. Better. Because of you.
I stood at the back. Far enough away that no one would notice if I slipped out early, close enough to hear the vows. I told myself I was only there because he asked. “My number one,” he’d said with a grin. “You better show up, or I’m taking you out of the group chat forever.” Classic Chenle logic.
I hadn’t known if I’d wanted to come. But here I was.
You reached him. Your hands found his. The whole world seemed to still.
And me? I smiled. A real one.
Because of course it was you two.
It was always going to be you two. And I was okay with that.
WARNINGS | swearing, sexual innuendos, kys/kms jokes
NOTES : WE ARE SO BACK !! I have got the chaps lined up gang, a little filler chap to get us going and then we ARE BACK TO BUSINESS 😼 ALSO HOW DO WE FEEL ABOUT BTTF bcs i saw someone say its punch + istjs love child and I love it fr 🙏
⋆ 𐙚 ⭑.ᐟ [jisung x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 5.3k w. angst ! angst with no comfort ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
hey siri! play TSQ by humbe on spotify!
no te voy a decir que no
¿para qué te miento? sí, te extraño
aún no entiendo la razón de dejarme, si no te hice daño
february, 2025
when jisung first met you, he would've never imagined that he could feel anything negative because of you.
he had always thought of you as sunlight; constant, bright and warm. a light to guide him home even in his darkest days. and it wasn't like he imagined it, or as if he made up a perfect version of you in his head, you really were like that.
not all sunshines and smiles, but real. you cried, got mad and swore like a sailor, but nothing about that took away from the sheer comfort you brought into his life. you were there, you were real, and you were his.
until you weren’t.
if he was being completely honest, he didn’t quite understand what had happened; what had changed in the way you looked at him from one day to another. well, he guessed leaving him wasn’t a decision you took overnight, but that just made it worse, in his opinion. because there he was, weeks later and still wondering for how long his eyes shone with a love that yours no longer had.
had you been uncomfortable sleeping by his side? had you been disgusted whenever his lips touched yours?
oh, he was feeling sick at the mere thought of it.
it really didn’t help at all that he could find you everywhere he went. the ice cream shop by the corner where you had your first date, the bench you always went to at the park; even the store where he bought the promise ring that was now sitting on the deepest corner of his sock drawer.
and he missed you. he missed you so much that he felt a constant hollow on his chest, and his hand was way too cold without yours to warm it up.
at some point in your relationship he had become so secure about you that he never even allowed himself to think about what he would do when he no longer had you. and god, did he wish he had. because he had never felt lonelier than walking through the park as if he would find the answer to his dilemma between the absurd amount of people that surrounded him.
he had no idea how to be without you, even less how to not miss you to the point of constantly being nauseous.
pero sigo creyendo que no somos amigos cercanos
pues yo sí te sigo queriendo
march, 2025
jisung had never felt so stupid in his life.
stupid because if there was anyone that knew that he was not prepared to see you, it was him. And yet, there he was, at mark’s house as he watched you giggle away at something your best friend had said.
it wasn’t anyone else's fault but his, really. mark had even warned him you would be there, his voice apologetic as he explained that he couldn’t just stop seeing either of you. and jisung understood, of course, because it wasn’t like he wanted to stop seeing you. doing so had never made him anything but happy.
it was new to feel like he was repeatedly being stabbed on the chest every time his eyes found you. and unfortunately, his eyes still looked for you every time he entered a room.
because he wasn’t the one that stopped loving you out of nowhere.
not like he had any type of resentment, of course.
“you sure you’re okay?” chenle’s voice dragged jisung out of his very own dramatic inner monologue as he settled next to him on the couch.
“hmh, never better,” the boy spoke, clearly lying through his teeth as he teared his eyes away from you for what felt like the millionth time that night.
“good, because she's coming this way,” his best friend said, clapping his shoulder with sympathy as he laid back on the couch.
jisung’s heart stopped in his chest as you walked into his field of vision once again, smiling away at everyone. god, you looked beautiful.
“dude, it was not like that!” renjun’s voice resonated once jisung began tuning into the conversation once again. “i never hit on you once.”
“yes you did! stop lying!” donghyuck spoke with a loud laugh, pointing at his friend accusatorily. “that one time where you got wasted at ji and yn’s apartment!”
jisung really wished a jolt of pain didn’t go through him when he remembered that wasn’t your apartment anymore. and he could see the way your eyes travelled to him, as if to see his reaction to that fact. so he looked away, focusing on his hands and the rings he was wearing.
look at that, you had gotten him more than half of them.
he let out the faintest sigh as he pulled them off, pocketing them without a word before looking back at where his friends laughed and shouted obnoxiously. he wished he didn’t, because he wasn’t prepared to see the heartbreak in your eyes as you watched him.
he immediately wanted to reach out to you, pull you into his arms and tell you that he would never take them off again. but he couldn’t, so he gave you a small smile and focused his attention on hyuck, who had apparently moved on from renjun’s flirting (or lack thereof) to terrorize mark instead.
soon enough, you jumped into the conversation. your laugh resonated through the room as you joined forces with the honey skinned boy, taunting your best friend as if your life depended on it. and jisung wanted to cry, really. he had always admired the way you could move past being upset to find happiness again, except that now he kind of wished you didn’t. still he tried to focus some of that energy into himself, so he put on a smile and spoke up, joining the conversation.
if he could pretend everything was fine, then maybe you would make your way to him again.
que la vida es testigo de cómo mi alma va haciendo su infierno
intento imaginar que todo fue un sueño
march, 2025
nothing but sheer relief washed over jisung's body when he opened his eyes and found your sleeping figure right next to him on the bed.
you were there, and it had all been a bad dream.
he smiled and moved closer to you, his hand coming up to lazily brush a strand of hair away from your sleeping face. he swore right then and there that he had never seen anything more beautiful than you in the morning. so natural, so trusting, so comfortable around him. he was so in love with you that he would do anything in the world if that meant seeing you happy. the stars weren’t out of reach, the ring wasn’t that expensive, nothing was impossible if you were the one to ask.
and god, he was so grateful that the stupid bad dream was over, and that his hands were littered with rings again.
as you shifted awake, his heart almost exploded. he could see how sleepy you were as you smiled at him, immediately moving to cuddle closer to his chest and throw an arm over his waist without even opening your eyes.
it was nice to finally be back home with you.
he left a kiss on your forehead and pulled you even closer, letting you rest until you were ready to open your eyes.
except when you did, everything crumbled around him. since when were your eyes a different color?
then, he started to remember. the heartbroken look in your eyes, the boxes full of your stuff, his rings put away next to the ring.
oh.
it wasn’t a dream, this was.
and the issue about the whole thing wasn’t the fact that he was trapped in a dream; it was just that he didn’t want to wake up from it and face his depressing reality. so he held you closer, pressed his lips on your forehead and closed his eyes again to feel the warmth of your hold once again. it was the best feeling in the world, even when it was just his head playing tricks on him.
still, when he woke up and there was a cold pillow instead of you, he wanted to cry again.
he found himself crying a whole lot more often now.
que seamos eternos
que en el mundo no haya calibre de bala que pueda vencernos
que mis días comiencen contigo sería todo un privilegio
espero que esto ya no todo sea un sueño
november, 2024
“ji! can you come here please?” you called out from your shared room. jisung, who had been patiently waiting for you to finish getting ready, stood up from the couch and went straight to you.
his lips immediately formed a smile when he caught sight of you, squeezed into the tight black red he had gotten you a couple months back.
“what’s up, pretty girl?” he asked as he got closer to you, hands finding their way to your hips as if it was where they meant to be.
he could see the small smile that escaped you, the way your eyes shone at the sight of him so obviously enamoured by you. “i need help putting on my necklace, pretty please.”
he nodded, but didn’t move from his position. instead, he pulled your body closer to his and ducked down slightly to catch your lips in a kiss. god, he would never get over how good it felt to kiss you. even after three years of being together, his heart did backflips on his chest and butterflies surged into his stomach every single time. and the way you smiled on his lips? he could give up every single thing in his life if that meant he would have you forever.
“ji, necklace,” you reminded him between kisses, doing very little work to pull away from him when he unconsciously chased your mouth.
“just a little more,” he mumbled, right before he pressed his mouth against yours again.
minutes passed until you were able to push him away (not like you were trying very hard, either), but jisung’s hair was now messy with the aftermath of your hands, and your lipstick was smeared all over his lips.
“we’re going to be late,” you let out a small giggle, looking up at him with adoration filling your eyes.
it was the prettiest sight he had ever seen.
“we’re already late,” he nodded, the smile ever so present in his lips, “so we should kiss for a few more minutes.”
you rolled your eyes with amusement, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from how beautiful you looked at every single moment.
“jisung.” you said, trying your best to keep your tone serious.
“what? i’m just committing to our fashionably late bit,” he said in exchange, throwing his hands up in surrender. he looked so handsome when he smiled at you like that.
“sure you are,” you smiled before placing your hand behind his neck and pulling him back onto your lips.
there wasn’t anywhere in the world that he would rather be.
para nada pienso mal de ti
pero no te quiero mentir
april 2025
jisung didn’t know why you hadn’t made it to donghyuck’s party, and in all honesty, he was trying really hard not to care. he did, obviously, but he was trying not to. it would just set him back, like he did every single time he saw your face.
and that wasn’t the worst part, really.
the worst part was that he was slowly feeling the pain turn into resentment, and he once swore he would die before ever hating you.
“so you aren’t together anymore?” one of the girls that sat around him and sion on the couch asked, raising an eyebrow at him. her smile was too close to a smirk, too pleased for his liking.
“uhm, no,” he denied, his awkward persona shining through once again at being put on the spot. “we broke up a couple months ago.”
“oh really?” she asked, her lips forming an exaggerated pout. “why did you dump her?”
“i didn’t,” he spoke, too fast to even process his own words. his eyebrows were furrowed in a frown, almost confused at the idea that anyone would think he would ever leave you, “she broke up with me.”
“oh! what did you do?” the girl asked, continuing her overly high pitched voice as she looked at him with somewhat of a teasing smile. “did you cheat on her or something?”
jisung had never been so appalled in his life.
why would he ever cheat on you? and why on earth did this girl seem so enthralled by the idea?
“no, i didn’t,” he said, his expression so incredibly unamused that she caught on immediately. “i would never do that.”
“a loyal man, i like that,” she said, trying to get back into whatever game she thought she had going on. “so she left you for no reason? what a bitch.”
and that is where he drew the line.
“you know nothing about her,” he stated, standing up from where he was with an expression that could scare anyone off. “she is everything but a bitch, and she had a reason.”
the girl seemed to catch on to the fact that whatever she wanted was not happening, so her expression changed to a darker one as she tilted her head in mock curiosity. “yeah? and what was that?”
jisung’s words got stuck in his throat, because he had no idea.
he didn’t know why you left him, you hadn’t given him a reason.
and he couldn’t pretend that he hated it, that he didn’t want to call you and force you to tell him why three years went down the drain overnight. because maybe, just maybe, you had done it without a reason.
“that’s enough, let’s go,” sion stood up, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder before turning him around to get him to walk away.
“bye bye! say hi to yn for me!” she exclaimed as they walked away. her words were meant to sting, to hurt, but they didn’t even register in his head as his mind was completely stuck on you.
guilt clogged in his throat as he walked, because maybe he did think it was wrong for you to leave him like that.
maybe you were a little bit of a bitch.
día y noche por tres meses yo sufrí
me morí, reviví cuando te descubrí
june 2025
it had been three months since jisung had last seen you.
three months without hearing your voice, without looking at your smile. it was supposed to be for the best, so love wouldn’t turn into hate as he watched you continue your life like you hadn’t completely wrecked his. but in reality, jisung had never felt worse.
he missed you so much it physically hurt, as if someone had just taken away his lifeline and left him to fend for himself. even after you broke up, seeing you was a breath of fresh air that stung his insides like no other, and he had even begun to miss the sting.
and still, he listened to the people around him and took his time and distance from you, because how could he ever get over you if he constantly saw your face? it didn’t make much sense.
nothing ever made sense after you left, but that was a thought for another day.
so as the boy walked around the grocery store, throwing things into a cart because chenle had told him he couldn’t continue living off take out, he tried his very best to shake you off his mind and focus on the list his best friend had made him.
but then again, when did anything ever go the way he wanted it to?
“jisung?” a voice he knew too well spoke from behind him as he reached for his (your) favorite cereal from the top shelf. he was scared to turn around, knowing that the prettiest sight he ever saw would be waiting right there for him. maybe he could pretend he didn’t hear you and you would go away. “i know you heard me.”
fuck, you knew him too well. the boy took a deep breath before he turned around, bracing himself to see you for the first time in months. would it hurt? would he want to die again? maybe you would look worse than you did before even if he knew that was impossible. all those thoughts crossed his head in the second it took him to turn around and meet your gaze.
and oh, there you were.
you could see the way he physically melted when your eyes met; his shoulders fell, his eyes softened completely.
because it was you, and you were right in front of him, and his heart soared like it did the first time he saw you all those years ago.
“hi,” he breathed out, looking so dazed by your presence that you had to stop yourself from grimacing at the guilt that settled on your chest.
“hi,” you said back, quietly contemplating if you should’ve just walked away from him and let him continue his very obvious efforts to avoid you. “i haven’t seen you in a bit.”
jisung’s insides churned so hard he had to stop himself from wincing because of the softness of your voice, the clear regret in your eyes. he would love to be delusional enough to think it was regret of leaving him, but he knew you far too well for that.
“i haven’t been going out much,” he said, trying his best to shrug off the bitter taste that began infiltrating in the joy of seeing your face again.
“i know,” you nodded, eyes shifting to the floor because you knew you were the reason for that. “the boys miss you.”
do you?
he almost let himself slip, say his thoughts out loud, but he caught himself before he did.
“i’ll see them soon,” he nodded, pursing his lips a little awkwardly.
you nodded back, letting out a small sigh before looking up at him, giving him one of your charming smiles that didn’t quite reach your eyes as you prepared to walk away from him again. “alright, it was nice seeing you, ji.”
oh no, please don’t leave.
his heart was borderline screaming for you, needing to have you close to him and never spend that much time without you again.
his hand twitched in efforts not to reach out, and he felt the crunch of the paper of his grocery list. chenle would kill him if he fumbled.
“yeah, you too, yn,” he smiled softly before turning back around and closing his eyes harshly once that you couldn't see him.
he had to get better, for his friends and for himself.
¿será que la vida ya me puso aparte?
ya no me quiere dar tiempo de más para darte
¿por qué es difícil amarte y hacerlo sin yo lastimarme?
ya solo queda mandarte las partes de un corazón que aquí dejaste
que me dejaste
july 2025
for the first time in months, jisung felt good.
he didn’t think about you as much, and had learned to accept that maybe he didn’t have to. it was okay for him to grow, and to leave behind all the bad things he had felt through those past few months to leave room only to remember you fondly.
he was good, ready to be your friend.
so that’s the mentality he took to mark’s party, ready to walk into the room and be the best friend he could be to you.
except when he walked in and saw you almost pressed up against a wall, giggling at something kamden whispered into your ear, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to be.
he wasn’t prepared for the beautiful walls he had made around himself to be destroyed completely in the matter of seconds, but then again, he should've seen that coming; seven months were not enough to get over someone like you.
he could give you credit and admit that your expression fell when your gaze met his, and that you pushed kamden off gently; but he didn’t want to give you credit for anything at the moment. he turned around and walked to the kitchen where he was sure to meet one of his friends that could talk him out of the crimes he was planning against himself.
“jisung! you came!” mark cheered happily when he entered his line of sight, swinging an arm over his shoulder and ruffling his hair. “we missed you around here, man!”
warmth swelled in the younger boy’s chest again, because at least someone had missed him. “i missed you guys too,” he smiled, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
mark took immediate notice of his clear bad mood, and his expression fell slightly, “you saw her?”
jisung didn’t have to hear your name to know who he was talking about, considering your friends never referred to you by your name when talking to him now. “yeah.”
“i’m sorry, i should’ve told her not to bring him,” his older friend said, eyes shining with guilt.
“nah, she can bring whoever she wants,” jisung assured him, giving him a reassuring smile before moving to make himself a drink. it wasn’t his place to dictate where or not you could take people, and it was your best friend’s house anyways, so he had no right. still, he did wish mark had told you not to bring him.
so he stayed in the kitchen, far away from you and kamden and close enough to the makeshift bar. it wasn’t a good idea, in retrospect, but there was nothing he could do about it now that he was already feeling lighter.
“yn! hey!” he said cheerfully when you walked into the kitchen, carrying two cups he assumed you had to refill.
“hey ji,” you said, far quieter. you knew the boy like the back of your hand, and saying he was drunk was an understatement. “how much are you drinking?”
“probably less than your boyfriend,” he said, shrugging so casually that if you didn’t know him so well you would miss the way his jaw clenched subtly.
“not my boyfriend,” you said; short, clear, warning.
“he will be soon,” jisung shrugged again as he moved to grab your cup out of your hands, instinctively making the drink you always had with ease only recognizable as muscle memory. “and that's fine, you know? at least you dumped me for a reason.”
his words hit you like a truck, guilt taking immediate refuge on your chest. “ji, i think you drank too much, please stop.”
out of all the reactions you expected, a dry laugh wasn’t one of them. “i’m totally fine. i’m an adult and i can drink whenever i want,” he stated, handing you your drink with a cynical smile on his face. “besides, you’re not my girlfriend anymore, i don’t see why you’d care.”
he could see the way your expression visibly changed to one of hurt, but honestly, he couldn’t be bothered with feeling guilty. not when you hadn’t.
“i still care about you,” you said softly, voice quieter than usual. “you’re still my friend.”
“you can’t expect me to believe that.” he stated, and his voice carried more sadness than he wanted to. “we were together for four years, you don’t get to throw that away and expect us to be friends after.”
well, now, he did feel a little guilty at the sight of your face morphing with a devastating amount of sadness. but still, he knew he was right, and it kind of felt good to finally voice it out loud.
“yn, i-” kamden spoke from the door, peeking his head until his smile fell at the sight, “my bad.” he spoke, disappearing right out of the door.
jisung felt his heart clench at the way you kept your eyes on him, but maintained his firm stance. “your boyfriend is looking for you.”
he could see the annoyance, the hurt and all the words stuck in your throat, and he was ready to hear them all. but you had apparently learned how to hurt him the most, so instead, you turned around and walked out of the kitchen.
at least you took the drink he made you.
pero sigo creyendo que no somos amigos cercanos
pues yo sí te sigo queriendo
august 2025
after the showdown at mark’s party, you kept your respectable distance from jisung.
you avoided hovering and going out of your way to talk to him, giving him the space he so clearly needed from you. strangely, jisung didn't feel half bad about it. even with the pounding headache and awful hangover he had the night after your little spat, he had realized that it was exactly what he needed; to have a break from you without feeling guilty about it.
so he kept hanging out with his friends, and let himself do things he enjoyed without needing to be thinking about how you would react, or what you would think. at the end of the day, he was stuck with himself, not with you.
and that realization kind of freed him, really. nothing had ever come more as an epiphany to him; he had to be the most important person in his life because he wasn’t it in yours. so he started his healing process from an entirely different perspective.
little by little, life got easier without you by his side. he learnt to do the things you used to do for him, and to love them because they were now his.
it was like he was reclaiming his life from the grasp you once had in it. with time, he learnt that wanting to heal didn’t have to come hand in hand with not appreciating the time he had with you. even in his worst moments, he never regretted you. he resented you, hated you with the passion that only love can create; but never, not once, did he regret you.
you had been the most beautiful four years he had lived, but he had so many years to be lived still. and with that, peace finally came.
peace with his friends, with himself, and ultimately, with you, too.
that didn’t go unnoticed by anyone. not when he seemed lighter; when his shoulders stopped tensing when you walked into a room; when he smiled at you and his eyes didn’t scream out in yearning to hold you.
he was done with yearning, and he was ready for friendship. careful as ever, not willing to give away all he had accomplished, he started approaching you again. you weren’t close friends, not even the slightest speck of closeness you had before, but you could look and smile at each other without the room becoming tense, and that was enough for him.
“not it!” chenle screamed out from his place on the couch, his finger flying up to touch the tip of his nose. he was followed by everyone in the room in attempts to free themselves of the burden of having to go pick the food up to the restaurant a block away from hyuck’s house.
jisung was blessed with many things, but speed was unfortunately not one of them. his finger flew from his nose a tad too late, and he let out a groan immediately. “i thought we said we weren’t doing not it anymore!” he exclaimed, upset.
“oh, stop crying!” renjun said back, pushing the younger boy’s shoulder lightly in reprimand. “you’re not the youngest anymore, so now we can play again.”
it was completely and utterly unfair, if you asked jisung. he moved his gaze to yushi, a newly adopted friend that was a glorious year and a month younger than him and had replaced him as the friend group baby. the boy smiled, shy as ever, and jisung almost felt bad for the absolute glare he was giving him as he stood up.
“fuck all of you,” he said with an exaggerated sigh, sticking his middle finger out to renjun as he put on his jacket. he ruffled yushi’s hair on the way out, just as a reassurance that everything was okay, something he wished his older friends had done with him.
the doors of the elevator were about to close when you stumbled into them, rushing to put on your jacket as you settled into his side.
“hi. sorry, didn’t want you to go alone,” you said with a shy smile as your eyes met his. jisung’s heart didn’t clench in his chest, and it was so nice.
“thank you, i swear those assholes would send me alone to fucking sri lanka,” he joked, leaning back on the wall as he looked in front of him, not wanting to risk looking at you too much.
“they would send anyone alone to sri lanka if they knew they were bringing back food,” you chuckled back, mimicking him.
the trip to the restaurant wasn't long, nor awkward or anything of the sorts. it felt good, to be able to talk to you without feeling like drowning.
que seamos eternos
que en el mundo no haya calibre de bala que pueda vencernos
que mis días comiencen contigo sería todo un privilegio
espero que esto ya no todo sea un sueño, oh-uh
november, 2025
waking up next to you was once jisung’s favorite everyday occurrence. with time, it became his favorite dream; and now it was a once every month event that didn’t really give him any special feelings.
with the periodical healing of your relationship, the monthly sleep overs at jeno and jaemin’s apartment had finally returned. and although they were far different from before, with you waking up a couple beds over from him, they brought him the same amount of happiness they did before.
he had healed, he was finally himself again. and it kind of all made sense in his head as he watched you from his place on the bed he shared with chenle. your hair was tangled like it always was in the morning, your eyes sleepy and your smile as radiant as ever.
he remembered himself in the same position; watching you meticulously as you spoke to jeno animatedly. the way your eyes crinkled, how you recoiled into the blanket to hide your laugh; it was all the same as back then.
the only difference was that his heart didn’t hammer in his chest, nor did he struggle with the need to pull you into his arms. this time, he was filled with warmth. the kind of warmth that overwhelms you when you see a person you love shine and be happy; the same warmth he felt for every other person in that room.
he knew you weren’t like them, you weren’t one of many. you were different, special, and you would always be. his first love, the girl that rocked his world so hard he took months to get over her, and now, his close friend once again.
people say that relationships are a loop. strangers, friends, lovers, and back to strangers. but as you tugged on hyuck’s hair, jisung felt incredibly grateful that you made it back to friends as well.
𐙚 blue's corner ;; i have been writing this fic for a whole MONTH and it's finally done so yeah! hope you enjoy it
𐙚 taglist ;; @neozon3nha @winwintea @spacejip @dudekiss3r @yizhrt @lyvhie @mae3xoxo @morkiee @taroddori
𐙚 back to the masterlist.
𐙚 please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!!
wc: 0.5k warnings: uhh they makeout ig notes: i can't believe mark released 200 a whole year ago | LIBRARY
Mark can't cook. It's a simple fact that everyone knows.
But Mark isn't stupid. Anyone can follow a few instructions and throw a few things into a pot, stirring every once in a while to make sure things don't stick, and he's no different. He's done it a thousand times before and as long as he doesn't lose focus or slip up, which unfortunately happens a little too often for his liking, it goes pretty well.
So maybe, it's not really that Mark can't cook, more that he shouldn’t.
You can though, and your cooking, if you do say so yourself, isn't too bad, pretty good in fact.
So Haechan, cannot for the life of him understand why, when you and Mark are in the kitchen together, the food always turns out a little caramelised. Burnt, if he wasn't trying to protect your feelings.
He walked into the kitchen last week to the smell of something a little charred, noticing how you and Mark were already sighing and groaning about how difficult it'd be too clean the pot.
“You burned the food again?” he couldn't even act surprised, “What even happens in here when you two cook together.”
He should've figured from the way your cheeks flushed over and the tips of Mark’s ears turned red, but Haechan was too focused on hunting for something to satisfy his hunger from your fridge.
And you couldn't have been more glad that he didn't push any further, because God knows how you'd live it down.
But Mark doesn't seem to care. Not about being caught, and definitely not about the stew bubbling away on the stove on one end of the kitchen, because he had his arms looped around your waist, placing kisses to your cheek even after you'd both agreed to actually cook this time.
“Mark.’ You warned.
Your voice wasn't exactly intimidating or anything, so with a grin, he only continued to place kisses across your face, eventually trailing down your neck, in hopes he would change your mind.
But your grip on the spoon was firm, for all of maybe five minutes.
Soon enough your back was against the counter and your lips were moving against his, a hand pressed against his chest.
“Mark, we should really–”
He cut you off, “Kiss some more?” He smiled, taking in your features for a moment, “Yeah I agree.”
“Mark the food.”
He shrugged, pulling you into for another kiss, “Just one more.”
That was a lie if you'd ever heard one.
Because soon enough, Haechan had come through the kitchen door with two fingers dramatically pinched over his nose. You didn't notice of course.
“Guys I really don't understand how you manage to—.”
You froze, barely processing his words as Mark stumbled back, his hands halfway under your shirt.
“Oh my God.”
All you could do was clear your throat and smooth your hair down, leaving Mark to deal with Haechan, who stood in the doorway, mouth agape.
“I should've known you didn’t burn the food by accident.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair.
“Dude we were um, multitasking?”
Haechan scoffed, “What trying to start a family while making dinner?”
summary: you’re always on the go, always needing something new—new places, hobbies, jobs, people. when you settle in your penpal’s beach town for an indefinite time, a harsh encounter with his best friend, doyoung, turns into so much more, and you find that maybe everything was meant to lead you here. maybe the thought of something lasting forever isn’t so scary, after all.
wc: 10k 18+ mdni
genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, smut
cw: beach town au, non-idol, enemies to ???, story heavy, slowburn-ish, mean doyoung at first, reader has problems with hyperfixation and commitment, opposites attract, bestie taeyong, fwb, jealous reader, drunk sex, body worship, unprotected pinv sex (pls don’t), oral (receiving), drunk arguments, sick from drinking, pet names: pretty, baby, beautiful
You inhale the fresh sea breeze, taking in the hint of salt and bright blue sky all around you. You carefully make your way through the rock formation, gazing down at the shallow pools of water woven through the rocks you step on.
You see a starfish sprawled out just under the water’s surface and crouch down a bit more to get a better view, but a slight movement of your hand sends one of your rings flying into the water, tucked somewhere your eyes don’t quite catch.
You panic, reaching in to try and grab where you think it might be.
“Don’t touch that!” a stern voice booms from behind you, and you snatch your hand back, whipping around to see the source of your scolding.
A man in rubber overalls, a bucket hat, and the nastiest glare you’ve ever seen strides until he is on a rock a few feet away from you. He points an accusatory finger at you.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Those starfish aren’t for people to play with.”
You frown. “I wa-”
“Don’t you know not to mess with the wildlife? They’re alive and-”
“I wasn’t going to touch them, you asshole!”
His glare narrows even further, and you get a better look at the man’s sharp eyes that match his even sharper tone.
“Oh, sure, as if I didn’t see you reaching in with my own two eyes.” He rolls his eyes, scoffing. “Typical tourists.”
You feel rage bubble in your throat, but you stop yourself. You meet his glare with your own. “Shut the fuck up.”
You relish in the way his glare twists into a look of shock at your harsh words, storming past him the way you came, still careful to avoid stepping on anything but the rocks that stick through the water’s surface.
You exit the tide pool, ignoring whatever the man tries to say to you, walking away as fast as possible.
He eventually gives up, but you don’t look back once. By the time you reach the steps of a familiar building, the anger has faded into mild annoyance. What the hell was that guy’s problem?
“Hey, everything okay?” a friendly voice calls out to you, and you turn to see your blonde headed friend tending to his patio plants.
Taeyong had been your pen pal for years after you met him on one of your travels. You swear he is your platonic soulmate, evident in how many years you’ve kept in contact. A few months ago, he invited you to his beach hometown to stay in the tiny guest house attached to his as long as you wanted.
“Yeah, just ran into some asshole at the beach,” you grumble, taking a seat on the steps as you watch him carefully water one of them. His head whips towards you with a look of concern, and you hold your hands up to stop him before he gets heated. “It’s fine though, really.”
“Just wait for me next time, I’ll go with you,” he frowns, going back to watering his plants, and his concern shakes the last bit of annoyance from you.
You’ve been here for two weeks, and your time here has been exactly what you needed.
For as long as you’ve been alive, you’ve always been on the go, never one to settle in one place for too long. Your family moved from city to city growing up, with you never fully allowing yourself to get attached to anything or anyone you might leave behind.
As you grew up, you adopted this same lifestyle, and you never felt bad leaving anything behind, never let your thoughts dwell for too long.
But you’d become stagnant for a couple of years, and it was driving you insane, caught in commitments that didn’t allow you to move on. So you tied loose ends and left at Taeyong’s invitation— better to figure things out on the warm sand, right?
“Anyways, go get some rest before tonight,” Taeyong instructs, patting some loose dirt off of his trousers.
“Tonight?”
He scoffs in disbelief. “You forgot? We haven’t gone out once since you came— don’t you want to see how we have fun around here?”
Grinning, you give him a thumbs up.
“If I’m not up by 7, do whatever it takes to wake me up.”
He laughs. “Whatever it takes—noted.”
You don’t need Taeyong to wake you up, and after dressing yourself up for a night out, he shows you exactly what it means to have fun in his hometown. The clubbing scene is just right— not too crowded, but just enough to have a good time.
Drinks are unbelievably cheap, and all the excitement leads to a shot, a cocktail or two, and way more shots you lose count of.
The two of you end up having a little too much fun, and Taeyong ends up crouched at the corner of the bar’s exterior, throwing up as you pat his back.
“I’m sorry..” he apologizes drunkenly through his retching, and you wince as he continues to empty his stomach’s contents.
“It’s okay, Yomi,” you assure, speech also slurred as you try to soothe him. You don’t know how the two of you will be getting home tonight, but it’s hard to even think about it with your friend in this state.
“Is he okay?” a voice cuts through your daze, and you whip your head around to find its source.
It’s hard to make out the man’s features from his backlit form and your blurred vision, but as he comes closer to crouch next to you both, immediately your eyes widen in recognition.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” you seethe, and the man’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.
“Do I know you?” he asks, and the rage bubbles up even more.
“Aren’t you that asshole from the beach earlier?”
He pauses, but that seems to do it for him, and his eyes narrow into the same sharp glare he had earlier. “Oh, it’s you.”
You’re about to start arguing with him when he passes right by you, peering over at Taeyong’s face. Your protective instincts activate.
“Hey, get away from hi—”
“Doie!!!!!” your sloshed friend exclaims, jumping to his feet as he throws his arms around your enemy. You’re confused and way too drunk for this right now, just watching as “Doie” separates himself from your friend, holding him at arm’s length with a disgusted look.
“Yomi, do you know this freak?”
“Freak? What the—”
“My bestie Doie is heeere,” Taeyong exclaims, seeming as if he’s risen from the dead. He loops his arm around your neck and the other around his taller friend, holding you two tightly, your faces just inches from each other.
“Both my besties in one place? I-I’m so happy I could..”
You both look at each other with panicked expressions.
“Cry—”
And what comes from your friend are not tears, but another round of vomit. Luckily, you’re not caught in the crossfire, but the two of you are silent as Taeyong slumps over, both of you struggling to hold his dead weight.
After somehow getting Taeyong onto his back, you follow as he trudges over to what you assume is his car parked a block away. You open the car door for him as he shoves Taeyong in, your friend curling up peacefully across the entire row of seats.
The dark haired man slams the door with a grunt, letting out a heavy sigh. He turns his sight to you, his glare still present, but not as intense.
“Are you coming or what?” he asks gruffly.
“Huh?”
He sighs again, shaking his head. “Are you that drunk? You’re the one staying with Taeyong aren’t you?”
Dazed, you nod your head.
“He drunk texted me about an hour ago to pick you guys up—didn’t realize you were the friend he was talking about.”
“What do you me-”
“Just get in the damn car if you don’t want to be stranded here,” he interrupts coldly, turning on his heel to the driver’s side.
Your voice gets stuck in your throat, a pounding headache starting to form. You have no choice but to comply, with no idea of how to get back to Taeyong’s at this time of the night.
Opening the passenger door hesitantly, you slide in, setting your sights out the window, refusing to turn your head towards the driver.
He starts the car and starts the trip back to Taeyong’s and you pinch your nose as your head starts to spin. You quickly realize you probably aren’t as sober as you thought you were.
“Better not throw up in my car,” he warns, glancing over at you, and that last comment is just what it takes for you to snap.
“Well, Doie. You’re rude as fuck to someone you just met,” you assert, pointing at him accusingly. “Even earlier on the beach, I wasn’t gonna touch anything, you know? You just assumed.”
“First of all, it’s Doyoung to you. and yeah—you’re telling me that when I know what I saw with my own two eyes,” he scoffs. Finally, you face him, eyes wide at his stubbornness.
“Doie, Doyoung, whatever. I dropped something in that tide pool, I was just reaching into try and find it—and you know what? It’s probably in some starfish’s stomach thanks to you-”
He takes a particularly sharp turn as you finish your sentence. The swift motion has your pounding headache turning into spinning, and suddenly you feel sick to your stomach. Slapping a hand to your mouth, you grip onto Doyoung’s arm.
“Pull over! PULL OVER!!!!” you screech, and in shock he veers over to the nearest curb with you stumbling out of the car before he’s even properly parked.
“Are you fucking crazy?!” you hear his voice trail off behind you.
Luckily, there isn’t anyone else on the streets this late—one, to see the car moving as if Doyoung was the drunk one, and two, to see you in the very same position Taeyong was in earlier.
Your eyes sting with embarrassment and pain as you empty your stomach, at this point not even caring if Doie or Doyoung or whatever the fuck his name is leaves you on the curb.
Catching your breath, you feel your eyes well up a bit more in frustration at this situation. You don’t register the sound of footsteps approaching, and something cold touches your face, making you wince in surprise.
You look up to see Doyoung holding a cold water bottle to you, its condensation making it look like the most delicious drink in the world right now. In an uncharacteristic display, he opens it for you with a snap of the cap, handing it to you again.
“Drink, you need this.”
You hate the way he tells you what to do, but you feel your resolve crumble as you accept it gratefully, feeling humiliated at this moment of weakness.
“Take your time,” he nods and walks away, and after a few minutes, you get up, too.
You’re surprised to see he didn’t go back in the car, simply waiting as he leans against the hood of his car. He moves back into the driver’s seat as soon as he sees you walking back, water bottle still in hand.
The rest of the drive back to Taeyong’s is silent. As he pulls in front of the house, you turn to him, shakily preparing to admit defeat and apologize.
“I’m so-”
“It’s fine, just go inside.”
A flare of anger ignites at once again being interrupted, but you’re more than grateful to not have to fully apologize.
“I’ll take care of this guy, you have the key to the guest house, right?” he asks, and though you want to ask him how he knows that, you simply nod and exit the car. Without any further regard for you, he starts to help Taeyong out of the car.
Taeyong will be fine, and you’re too tired and pained to think anymore. You make your way around the back to the guest house, collapsing into the bed and drifting off as soon as your head hits the pillow.
You wake up with the worst hangover you’ve had in a long time, flailing blindly for any source of water. Finding the half-finished water bottle from last night, you groan as you replay the events of the night.
You force yourself to get up and shower, reflecting as the hot water washes away last night’s mistakes.
Who would’ve known the asshole who yelled at you on the beach would be your sweet Taeyong’s friend? Best friend at that? Though a part of you tells you that he did have some redeeming moments.
Whatever, you just hope you won’t see him anytime soon.
Taeyong is most likely still knocked out cold, so after freshening up, you go on a walk to try and decompress, taking in the fresh air.
You stop by a cafe on the way, drinking a cup of much-needed coffee as you watch people stroll by.
This really is just what you needed. No responsibilities, no stress. You catch a whiff of the sea breeze—that could be a hangover cure in itself.
Arriving at the beach, it’s a little more crowded that day, but a familiar head of pitch black hair popping in and out from the tide pool area catches your eye.
Your brain tells you you should’ve just turned around and walked away, but you approach anyways, your feet leading you up the same path and to the same man you had encountered there just a day before.
He doesn’t hear you approaching, and you watch as he carefully forages through the tide pool in those same rubber overalls, doing exactly what he told you not to do.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to mess with the wildlife?”
He whips around in shock at your words, eyes wide at you seemingly appearing from thin air. He breathes out when he realizes it’s you, and he shakes his head.
“I’m not messing with them, for your information—this is my job,” he corrects you sternly.
“Your job is to pick around at tide pools?”
He scoffs. “I’m a marine biologist, I don’t pick around these pools—I research and preserve them. There are always stupid kids and tourists coming around here and messing around.”
“Oh.”
You have nothing smart to respond with at the revelation that he is a qualified professional, and an awkward silence settles between you, the sound of waves crashing against the rocks filling the space.
That explains why he was such an asshole—he’s probably used to chasing off people who actually mean harm.
An apology hangs off of your tongue, but you don’t let it fall, your pride reminding you of how he’s spoken down to you since the first time you met.
He approaches silently, rummaging through the pocket on the chest of his overalls. “Anyways…” he trails off, pulling out a few items and holding them out to you.
“Were any of these what you were looking for?”
Lying in his hand are two plastic buttons clearly from different garments, a hairclip, a broken keychain, and, slightly dulled from its time in the water, the ring you dropped.
“You didn’t say what you lost, so I didn’t know what to look for.”
You’re speechless. You’ve been cursing him with every fiber of your being since you laid eyes on him, but in a second the atmosphere has shifted.
“Well?” he asks, looking at you expectantly.
“…Yeah, this one,” you reply, gingerly picking the ring from his hand, your skin brushing his slightly.
He nods, putting the rest of the items into a container he’d had by his feet.
“You actually looked for it?” You realize it might be a dumb question, but you’re genuinely shocked he would go out of his way to do that.
“Sunday is my day for weekly tide pool surveys anyways,” he waves you off. His eyes soften slightly, and the corners of his lips curl in a slight smile. “Didn’t want it in a starfish’s stomach after all.”
You can’t help but feel the corners of your own mouth twitch up at his reference to your drunken rage last night.
“That ring—is it important to you?”
You got the ring at some market for cheap, and realistically, you would’ve forgotten about it in a week. You’re honest with him.
“Not really.”
He laughs in disbelief.
“But still, thank you—seriously.”
You hope he can feel that you’re genuine, and it seems like he does.
You know you could buy 100 more, but now that someone worked so hard to get it back to you? Someone who you thought hated your guts? Maybe you could take better care of it.
“Are you done with your work?” you ask, and he seems caught off guard by your question.
“..No? Still have half of the pool to survey.”
You smile at his confused expression—it’s nice to see his different expressions when he’s not glaring at you like you’re the worst person in the world.
“Need some help?”
Though he rejected your first offer, you stubbornly insisted on helping him pick out little bits of trash and debris. There wasn’t that much to clean, and Doyoung still had to do work once you were done.
The first time you helped you left as soon as you were done, but as you go about the rest of your week, something has you itching to see him again.
So you do the following Sunday, eyes scanning for that familiar head of dark hair.
You see more of him this day—the shocked expression he has at seeing you again, the slightly annoyed look he dons when you refuse to leave. Yet the sharpness he had when you first met is absent, and you’re relieved.
And when you return the following week wearing a pair of similar rubber overalls to his, the surprise on his face is priceless.
You can’t help it. You tell yourself you won’t go back, and Doyoung insists you stop coming, but every Sunday you end up right back where you started.
The 5th time you come, things shift a bit. With barely anything to clean and a lull in his research, the time you usually fill with work is empty.
One thing leads to another, and you trip on one of the rocks, falling on your ass. Luckily, no sea creatures are harmed in the process, and you laugh at yourself.
Doyoung rushes towards you, grabbing your forearms to help you up. “Are you hurt anywhere?” he asks, concerned.
“It’s no wonder Taeyong kept you around his whole time,” you coo, allowing him to help you up. You half expect him to revert right back to a stoic glare, but your consistency proves to have broken down some of his barriers.
He smiles, really smiles, and it’s a gummy smile with eyes that crinkle just right. His laughter is so joyful, so unlike your first impression.
“It’s more like I keep him around,” he jokes. “Just kidding, Tae is too kind for his own good, he needs someone careful like me around him.”
You don’t have a witty response, starstruck at the soft expression he has talking about his friend. Someone dear to him.
Could that expression, that gummy smile of his, ever be directed at you? For you? About you?
Silence.
For some reason, the apology you left hanging for so long hits you like a train.
“Sorry.”
“Sorry.”
It takes a second to register that the word left not only your mouth, your heads darting to each other, eyes open wide in shock.
He inhales, you giggle, and the two of you break into fits of laughter. You laugh until your stomach hurts, and you don’t continue quite yet once the laughter dies down. He beckons you over to a rock formation that juts over the water, and you sit side by side.
The way the water cascades is hypnotizing, and the two of you watch for a moment before he breaks the silence.
“I’m really sorry for being so disrespectful. It’s just..” He glances back at the tide pool before training his eyes back on the waves. “This is my life’s work you know? A lot of people come through here and don’t care. I thought you were like them and I’m sorry I treated you like you were.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t judge people before you know them.”
“Yeah— that's true.”
He sounds so genuine. Another silence ensues, and it makes you wish you had gone first. You push down any remaining pride, turning to him.
“I’m sorry, too, for being kind of a bitch.”
He laughs at your choice of words, and the air lightens noticeably.
“Well, I kind of deserved it.” You don’t quite agree with that. The two of you are just different.
“No, you’re just passionate. That’s a good thing. I personally can’t understand dedicating your whole life to something—there’s so much out there, you know?,” you muse.
And it’s true, you can’t imagine what life would have looked like if you only ever stayed in one place.
“You think it’s a good thing? I was born and raised here, the ocean is all I’ve ever known.” A small smile lights his face as he breathes in the fresh air.
“But I don’t think I’ve wanted anything else.”
You can only sit there in awe. You don’t know if you’ve ever met anyone like this—so straightforward, so committed, so content. So opposite of you.
“Well, I’ve had a lot of passions, but nothing’s ever stuck,” you muse.
“Like what?”
You explain that you’ve tried it all—thought for a while you’d be a lawyer, then dabbled in nursing, traveling the whole country. He laughs at the thought of you as a nurse.
“You as a nurse when you’re the one yacking on the side of the road?” he teases.
“Hey.”
He apologizes sheepishly, and you continue.
“I tried to do fashion and design, and those didn’t stick either. I think the longest running thing was a weed business I ran back where some of my family lives—my cousin runs it now, though. You ever try?” you hold up your pinched index finger and thumb to your mouth as if smoking an imaginary blunt.
Amusement lights his eyes. “I’m not so sure it’s legal here.”
“Oh, it is—I made sure to ask Taeyong before coming to stay here,” you correct him confidently.
He laughs. “Fiend.” You lightly smack the side of his arm and his laughter grows.
“Well, what are you doing now?” he asks.
You grin as you gear up to explain.
“Nothing!”
His brows furrow, waiting for the punchline of a joke he thinks his coming.
“Nothing?”
You nod amidst his confused reaction, continuing.
“I’ve done so much, worked so much, but doing nothing is the only thing I haven’t tried yet, and it’s honestly been nice.”
“And you can afford that?” His question is genuine.
“Trust, I have more than enough to get by for a while. That’s what happens when you hyperfixate on a bunch of different things.”
You fixate on the patterns the crashing waves make, watching how the droplets drag themselves back into the mass.
“The more you move the more you make, you know? And that’s all I’ve ever done.” You look back at him. “Move.”
He’s at a loss for words, and you notice how his eyes droop a bit, taking on a sad look. Another expression added to your mental scrapbook of Doyoung, but not one you think you want to see often.
After what feels like a million questions directed towards you, you ask just one of your own.
“You’re sure you never wanted to try anything else?”
Doyoung’s response is immediate, as if he’s pondered this many times before.
“No.” The sadness leaves his eyes as he takes on a resolute expression instead. “I’m perfectly fine here.”
A question enters your mind at how certain he is. How nice is it to have something you care that much about? You don’t voice it, keeping it for yourself.
“I think I’m fine, too. For now, at least.”
You continue your days spending time learning to do nothing. While your quiet Sundays are always spent on the beach with Doyoung, Saturday nights are always Taeyong’s.
After that disaster of a first night, you’ve been careful of your alcohol intake. You tell yourself it’s because you don’t want a repeat, but a part of you holds back at the thought of wanting to be fully energized for your mornings on the beach.
You’ve been thinking too much, and maybe Taeyong has noticed, but he convinces you it’s time to let loose.
You don’t have to be at the pools in the morning—half the time you don’t even help when there isn’t much to clean. You sit and sunbathe while Doyoung works. He’s stopped telling you to leave, but who’s to say he wouldn’t appreciate some solo time?
You resolve yourself to go all out, but you’re not even halfway done with your first tequila soda when you think you may be hallucinating. A familiar face walks into the bar, waving at the two of you awkwardly.
Doyoung stands in front of you, dressed for a night out in his own Doyoung way—some nice fitting pants and a loose black button up giving you a nice view of a silver chain perfectly framed by his collarbones. His hair, usually fluffy and free, is tousled with some gel in just the right way.
He looks mouth watering.
“What are you doing here?” you ask, and Taeyong bounces between you two.
“You’d be surprised, but this guy can hold his liquor 10x better than I can,” Taeyong exclaims.
“I’m not surprised actually,” you tell both of them, already seeing the telltale signs that your friend is drunk.
Taeyong pouts, and you and Doyoung laugh. While Taeyong buys a round of shots for the 3 of you, you nudge Doyoung’s shoulder.
“Match me?”
“You’re gonna regret it.” There’s a playful glint in his eye, and your chest flares as you rise to the challenge.
“Bet.”
It’s safe to say you don’t regret it in the slightest.
Taeyong taps out not too far into the night, tucked safely in some booth with a glass of water until his cab arrives to take him home.
And you and Doyoung? The night flies by in a booth of your own.
You’re talking like you’ve never talked before. He talks about his childhood in that beach town, the trouble he and Taeyong used to get into, the university up the coast he works at on some weekdays. You talk about your favorite cities, the worst jobs you’ve tried, the craziest people you’ve met along the way.
All the while you get to know him, you don’t realize you’ve inched closer. It starts with your hand on his arm as you excitedly explain a random story to the way you sit angled towards him, your knees touching every so often.
And the touches only grow more familiar as the drinks go down.
His hand trails down your forearm, his touch light and feathery. At some point you hold one of his hands in both of yours, playing with his fingers as you talk animatedly about another tangent subject you don’t remember bringing up.
You see even more of Doyoung you haven’t before, and part of you wishes you could snap a picture to keep this memory forever. You can smell his cologne mixed with alcohol, and you hope you can commit the addicting scent to memory.
You’re drunk— it’s evident in the cool feeling of the alcohol sitting in your stomach and the heat in your face. His face is tinged with blush, his eyes are dazed and glossy—he’s just as drunk as you are.
At some point, you make the mistake of closing your eyes as you lean back. You aren’t sleeping, but it just feels nice to rest your eyes, the alcohol making it’s way through your blood stream. Your head lolls to the side and onto a firm shoulder.
“You okay?” Doyoung calls softly to you. You can feel his warm breath close to you and his arm wrap around your form to steady you.
You hum in response, cracking one eye open.
He’s right in front of you, and as his full face comes into view, backlit by the dim lighting in the club, your thoughts betray you.
You like seeing so many sides of Doyoung: annoyed, happy, excited. Yet you want to see yet another side of him—one different from all the rest.
You lean in and kiss him.
It’s a gentle peck, nothing crazy, but it feels like the air stills around you. Like the music and chatter in the background have silenced, like only the two of you exist.
Doyoung doesn’t react like how you think. He doesn’t freeze, get mad, push you away.
No, he closes his eyes, his arm around you holding you tighter, pulling you closer, and meets your lips with his. It’s longer than the one you gave him. You can taste the alcohol on his breath.
His hand trails down your back down to your waist, tugging you closer to him, his kisses deepening.
Your arms wrap around his neck like you’ve done this with him a million times before, and you take the initiative to deepen it even more, loving the way he gasps a bit when your tongue meets his.
The two of you make out for who knows how long, but even when he pulls back, out of breath, lips glistening—you chase him. It all feels too good, and you want more.
He pulls back again.
“You’re drunk.”
The corners of your lips pull up.
“No, you are.”
He sighs, leaning his forehead on yours.
“We’re both drunk.”
“Then it cancels out!”
He lets out another more exasperated sigh, but his lips pull into a smile as well.
“Not how it works.”
Pulling the inside of your lip between your teeth, your eyes trail from his eyes, down to his lips, and back up to his eyes. He groans.
“Don’t look at me like that.” You bat your eyes innocently.
“Like what, baby?” you tease, but you know where this is going. His eyes darken at the affectionate name. You’re drunk, but you’re entirely in your right mind when you say you need to fuck Doyoung in this moment.
You never really thought about it before despite knowing he was an attractive guy, but the second he walked into the bar looking the way he did, talking to you the way he did, touching you the way he did—there was an unmistakable feeling of desire.
And he seems to have the same feeling, apparent in the way both of you stumble out of the bar, giggling as he keeps a hand wrapped around your waist firmly, his hold on you not faltering even in the taxi back to the guest house.
His lips are back on yours as soon as you’re inside. He pushes you up against the front door as soon as it’s closed, locking it with a click behind you.
He runs his lips down your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses down its expanse that send shivers through your entire body. For someone usually so patient (through not necessarily without complaints), he’s so impatient, running his hands down your waist and hips, bunching up the bottom of your dress in his hands.
“Fuck, Doyoung, do something,” you moan, and you’re met with his dark gaze.
He falls to his knees, pulling your bottom half towards him, your back still resting on the door. He pushes up your dress, throwing one of your legs over his shoulders.
“Shut up,” he mumbles out, attaching his mouth to your core over your underwear. Your other leg trembles, and it would give out if not for the hold he has on your thigh and ass. He digs his tongue between your folds, finding your clit and pressing the material against it in circles.
You grasp at his hair, tugging slightly, and he groans into your pussy, sending vibrations through your clothed core. Your chest heaves as he has his way with you, moving his tongue from side to side until you’re shaking.
The feeling of the slick, rough fabric pushed by his warm tongue sends shocks down your system, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re cumming with a loud cry, your head shooting up.
You don’t get a chance to recover before Doyoung has you on the bed, him helping you slide your dress up over your head. You take a look at the bit of his chest that peeks out from his shirt.
“You, too. Take it off, Doie,” you in plead, and grins.
“I helped you, why don’t you help me out?” he asks playfully, and in a flash you’re fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, taking in every bit of toned skin that comes into view. You run your hands down his chest, loving the way he shudders under your touch.
“Don’t play, baby.”
He pushes you back in the bed, shrugging his pants off. He kisses down your bare chest, palm kneading at your chest, his lips wrapping around one of your nipples as his tongue glides across it.
You moan at the sensation—everywhere he touches feels like it’s on fire. His hot breath on your skin feels more intoxicating than the liquor pumping through your veins.
“You’re so beautiful,” he mutters under his breath, “so fucking beautiful.”
His lips trail up back to yours, kissing you even deeper, pressing you into the sheets, grinding his knee into your bare cunt. You moan into his mouth, moving your hips along with his motions.
And all of a sudden, the need to be filled up is far too overwhelming. “Doyoung, please, please,” you cry into his mouth.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he assures, his voice low and rough as if he’s holding himself back. “Condoms?”
Your head is clouded with desire, and you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anyone more than in this moment.
“I’m clean, I’m on the pill—just, please, Doyoung. Please,” you cry.
As if something snaps, he groans, pulling himself from his underwear—his cock stands painfully hard, and you feel yourself salivate at the sight. He spits into his hand, quickly coating his member in his spit, and lines up between your legs.
“Bear with me okay—tell me if it hurts, pretty,” he instructs before pushing into your entrance with a hiss. The stretch burns, but it burns so fucking good, and you move your hips to try and get more of him in you.
“Sh-shit,” he pushes on your lower stomach to hold you in place, but it just leaves you wanting more, your chest heaving with pure desire. “You’re so fucking tight.”
“I’ll give you what you want, just stay still,” he growls, moving both hands to your hips, keeping you in place. “Don’t wanna hurt you, baby. Let me take care of you.” You squirm in his hold, but it’s no use—he pins you there with his strong grip until he’s fully sheathed himself in you.
And fuck, it feels so good, so full. And as he starts shallowly thrusting, testing the waters all while gauging the way your expression twists with a watchful eye, all you can do is just lay there and *take it—*and that in itself is such a new feeling for someone so used to getting what you want on your own.
His eyes swirl with lust, but also awe, and you wonder if he likes seeing your different sides as much as you like seeing his. He starts picking up the pace, his cock reaching into you deeper, and you cry out at the sensation, your hands flying to his shoulders to hold onto something.
He sets a steady rhythm, though sometimes his hips stutter sloppily, undoubtedly from the leftover alcohol in his system, and the silver chain hanging around his neck swinging back and forth is hypnotizing.
His gaze never wavers. Even when your eyes roll back, shut, or you move your head around from the sensations of getting pounded into the mattress, his eyes are always on you when your gaze returns to him—and Doyoung looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world.
The only words exchanged between the slapping sound of skin on skin and the burning sensation between your legs are curses and strings of his name from you and sweet whispers and praises from him.
“So beautiful, so fucking pretty,” he groans like a mantra, “pretty girl like you deserves everything—fuck—gonna take such good care of you.”
You clench around him at the sweet promises, your mind spinning with only thoughts of Doyoung, Doyoung, and Doyoung. You want him to take care of you, you want to be under him, letting him do whatever he wants to you. The feeling of his skin on yours just feels so right.
You pull him closer to you, fully wrapping your arms around his neck. He continues pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow as you cling to him for dear life, his deep groans and grunts in your ears.
“L-let go, let me see you when you cum, baby,” he heaves, holding on as long as he can. Your hold on him loosens, but you keep your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into the muscles.
“Hi, beautiful,” he greets as your face comes into view. “Keep those eyes on me, yeah?” The pressure builds and builds at each thrust, your pussy starting to ripple around him until it’s all too much, and your eyes flutter, trying to do as he says and keep your eyes on him.
You cum around him with a loud gasp, your cries filling the room as he rides out your orgasm. He grits his teeth to hold on until you’ve completely finished, feeling a tightness in his own abdomen before pulling out, jerking himself furiously, his cum painting your stomach in streaks.
You both breathe harshly, coming down from your highs, before he collapses right next to you, an arm thrown over you. You’re so tired and everything is hazy, but you’re 100% sober at this point.
Regret should be filling your system at doing this drunk, but it doesn’t. Doyoung grabs his shirt, wiping your stomach, and settles beside you, tucking his arm under your neck.
And just like how it was when he was inside you, lying beside him feels just as right.
You wake up with pain in your head and your body, still in his grasp. Doyoung is still asleep, breathing steadily. He looks so peaceful. Another piece of him added to your memories.
As if he senses you staring, he stirs slightly before his eyes peek open, blinking off sleep as he makes out your features.
“Hi,” he greets, voice deep and scratchy. It stirs something in your stomach.
“Hi.”
There’s a brief silence, the two of you just looking at each other, knowing you have to address how you got to this point. You dread it.
“…Were you okay with everything? I want to let you know I’m completely okay with what happened last night, but I know we were drunk.” he breaks the silence. The fact that he checks in on you first and foremost makes your chest tighten.
“More than okay,” you assure, yet you know you have to make yourself clear. No matter how right it felt in the moment, it isn’t.
This isn’t meant to be any more than what it is on the surface—a one night stand. You can’t commit right now, not while you’re figuring everything out. You can’t do that to anyone, especially not him.
“But..” you start, and he urges you to continue with a soft gaze. “I don’t want things to change between us.”
He’s silent for a bit, his expression unreadable, and you wish in this moment that you could read his mind.
“I’m sorry if this ruins things,” you double down at his silence.
His lips part as if to say something, and he closes it again. You start to get nervous.
“It doesn’t,” he finally responds. “And things don’t have to change.”
You let out a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding. You know Doyoung probably had more to say, but you’re grateful to leave things as is.
He unwraps himself from you, getting up and stretching his arms high over his head with a groan. You stare at his bare back, the broad expanse of his shoulders, every ridge and dip of his muscles. Half of you wants to pull him back down to lay with you, but after what you just said? What he just accepted? It would be unfair.
He peeks back at you. “Mind if I freshen up here before heading to the pools?” he asks, casually as if you didn’t just draw the thickest line between you two. Yet you’re grateful.
“You’re still going even after a night out?”
“Yeah?” he tugs at your covers.
“And you are too, aren’t you?” he asks as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
With a mix of guilt and warmth in your chest, you let him pull you from your sheets, getting ready to go to the tide pools with him—just like any other Sunday.
It’s been 9 months since you first arrived in the city, 8 months and 2 weeks since you met Doyoung, and you’re conflicted.
The half-year mark is usually when you ask yourself if it’s time to move on from your current state of life. Other jobs, other places, other people have lasted longer, but you’d always made the decision that they’d be that way from the half-year mark.
But now coming into almost a year here with no thoughts of leaving feels weird. Is it that you’re enjoying doing nothing?
That may be so, but you’d be stupid if you didn’t admit that there was something keeping you tethered to this beach town—someone.
Your days are spent with Taeyong and Doyoung, together and individually, doing everything from mundane daily chores to visiting nearby cities. You take weekend trips with the two of them, though you’re sure to be back by Sunday for the weekly tide pool visits.
Taeyong is your platonic soulmate, that’s for sure. But Doyoung—you’re not quite sure what role he plays in your life.
You wish you could write it off as a drunken one-night stand, but the way you end up under Doyoung again and again after that night tells otherwise. Drunk, sober— you can’t get enough of him. The feeling of his skin against yours, his lips on yours, his voice in your ear.
Nights are spent at yours until he finally takes you to his place, a quaint 2 bedroom home left to him by his retired parents, and the more you stay, the more you want to. You can feel yourself slipping.
It all hit you one day after a night with Doyoung, waking up wrapped in his arms as the sunlight peeked through the curtains. It wasn’t a Sunday—time with him at some point bled into every other day of the week.
“Where do you see yourself in 5 years?” you had asked out of the blue, lazing around with him well into the afternoon since Doyoung didn’t work that day.
You don’t know what possessed you to ask—thinking that far in the future was something you actively avoided, but something in you wanted to see what he’d say. Maybe you thought his answer might inspire your own.
He pondered for a bit before responding.
“Here, hopefully.”
Another silly question left you before you knew it.
“With who?”
A heavy silence settled between the two of you, one you hadn’t experienced with him in a long time, maybe since the first few times you spent with him. Silence with him is usually comfortable, natural, yet in that moment it felt far too cold.
“I’m not sure.”
You don’t know why your heart sank. Maybe a part of you expected him to say you, wanted him to say you, and what he said next made you feel sick.
“I know I want to get married some day, but who knows?”
Marriage. You’d never even thought of that as a possibility in your life.
Loving someone enough to stay with them forever, denying any other possibilities or paths because you’ve made the decision to intertwine your fate with someone else’s—you don’t think you’re even capable of that.
You feel something for Doyoung, you’re certain about it. You’ve spent most of the time in this town with him, and in that time, you don’t think you’ve wanted anything else.
Yet who’s to say you won’t in the future?
You’ve seen this play out in your life far too many times—wanting something so bad it consumes you, uprooting your life in pursuit, and then repeating the process with something else once the passion cools.
The thought of that happening with Doyoung made you sick.
So you did as you always do—you drew the line.
“I guess you’re stuck with me ‘til you find your wife.”
“…I guess so.” He laughed, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
You didn’t notice, too busy pushing down the ache in your chest at the thought of Doyoung finding someone else.
He’s a good guy, one of the best you’ve ever met, maybe. He’s stubborn and honest to a fault, but he also would do anything for his loved ones to be happy. He deserves someone who can give him the same.
That’s what you tell yourself, but the way you glare holes into Doyoung at your usual bar with Taeyong peering at you worriedly tells otherwise.
It had been like any other Saturday night, with you coming into the bar, but Doyoung wasn’t glued to your side as usual. A few drinks flew by when Taeyong leaned in, pointing across the bar.
“Do you think he knows her?” Taeyong asked. You turned your head in the direction he was pointing, and that’s when you saw them.
Doyoung and by his side, a very pretty woman, talking to him animatedly with stars in her eyes.
Your throat tightened, your stomach sank, and your head felt light. A flurry of emotions came all at once, and it was far too overwhelming to process at that moment. You had to look away.
“Maybe,” you replied, turning back to the bar to order another drink. And another. And another.
And pretty soon, Taeyong’s the one nursing you for once, having tapped out earlier. He hands you a glass of water, which you take gratefully, your eyes scanning once again for your missing raven-haired friend.
Every thing seems to move in slow motion as you watch him lean down to her, his lips approaching hers, her hand gripping his arm. You see red.
You push through the few people in your way, ignoring Taeyong’s calls for you to stop, quickly storming up to the two of them. The woman next to him looks at you in surprise, and you don’t even get a good look at her face before you snatch Doyoung’s arm from her grip, tugging him along with you.
She shrieks a shrill “what the fuck?!” but you pay no mind, your only goal to get Doyoung as far away as her from possible.
You end up outside the bar, panting from the sheer adrenaline of what you just did.
“What the hell was that all about?” he asks, and when you finally turn to look at him, your heart sinks.
The sharp glare he had when you first met him is back, but there’s more—there’s shock, anger, maybe even resentment. You don’t remember what resentment on him looked like, but you’re sure it gave a similar feeling.
You let go of him, stumbling back, tongue tied at this unfamiliar side of him. You treasure each moment you meet a new side of Doyoung, but in this moment, you don’t know how to feel.
“Well?” he asks expectantly.
“I-um. Who was that?” You could slap yourself for how dumb you must sound, but it’s the only thing you can think of. He clenches his jaw at the question.
“I met her tonight, she’s nice,” he replied, curtly. Your face pulls into a sour look, and you turn away, a flare of anger rising in your chest. You don’t realize flames have burst in his own chest as well.
“You don’t get to do this to me,” he chides. “Didn’t you say you’ll be here until I find my wife, so what’s your problem?”
His wife—he just met her, how could he be taking it this seriously? You aren’t thinking straight, just combative at the idea that he could do everything he does with you with someone else.
“You think your wife is some random at a bar?”
“Hey, you don’t know her,” he bites back, and your heart sinks at his defense.
“… and you were some random at a bar, too, you know?”
He might as well could have taken your heart and stomped on it with those words. It would feel the same.
Even after all this time, is that all it was? He thinks anyone could have what you two have? You know this is unfair, it’s fucked up of you—it doesn’t make sense after every line you’ve drawn, yet you can’t help it.
You crossed all of them a long time ago.
“What the hell, Doyoung? How dare you compare me to her? You don’t even know her!” you deride him, but your voice betrays you as it trembles.
“I’m so much more than that.”
There’s a long silence. You’re too scared to look up at Doyoung. You don’t want him to hate you, not when you’ve gotten so used to the side of him that looks at you with so much warmth.
With love in his eyes.
Fuck.
“You are.”
His voice cuts through, but it lacks any of the venom it had prior. You finally look up at him, and there it is—that look that makes you feel like the only person in the world.
“You are so much more than that to me.”
He takes a step forward, taking your hand and interlocking his fingers with yours.
“You’re everything.”
It’s as if the air has been completely swiped from your lungs. No words form in your brain or on your tongue.
“I’m not having this conversation while you’re this shit faced, I’m taking you home.”
“I—” your breath gets caught in your throat, your eyes start stinging, and your head is suddenly spinning. All the fight leaves you, and it feels humiliating. You can’t speak.
Doyoung immediately gathers you into his arms, walking you to his car and tucking you into his passenger seat, and you let him. You gaze at the part in his black hair at the top of his head as he bends over you, clicking your seatbelt into place.
You only look out the window as he starts the car, driving you down the streets you’ve come to know well. He places a hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing comforting circles into your skin, and you hate how his touch calms you in a second, yet it’s also a reminder that he’s here. With you.
He helps you into the guest house once you arrive, sitting you down on the bed.
For a while, it’s like nothing is wrong. He grabs your makeup removing wipes from the bathroom, dabbing away the product from your skin—gently, like you’re a precious work of art.
He grabs clothes from your closet, handing them to you.
“Change.”
“Help me.”
And he does, wordlessly pulling your dress over your head, replacing it with a soft oversized t-shirt you’d always told him was your favorite to sleep in. He gets you a glass of water, making sure you drink a good amount before placing it on the bedside table.
“Doyoung,” you call.
“Just sleep, we’ll talk in the morning.”
You bite down your words and lay down, and he sits next to you on the bed. His hand comes to your cheek, wiping at the tears you didn’t even realize started leaving your eyes. Everything feels right with him here, yet in this moment you feel like the worst person in the world.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper.
The corners of his lips turn up just slightly, and he places a chaste kiss on your forehead.
“It’s okay.”
It’s just before sunset when you wake up, and Doyoung isn’t there.
When was the last time you came home with him and didn’t wake up to him the next morning? He always woke you up, knowing you’d feel some type of way if he didn’t take you with him or at least say goodbye before leaving.
You feel hollow, as if a piece of you is missing.
It’s over.
It’s time to pack it up, move on and figure out what comes next in your life.
Your eyes catch sight of a note next to the water on the bedside table, and you hold it up with shaky hands.
Happy Sunday, beautiful.
You know where to find me.
You’re so scared, so fucking scared, but for the first time, you don’t move away from what scares you, you run towards it.
Your heart is both at rest and unrest when you see his silhouette at the tide pools, the sunset illuminating him in an array of golden colors. You’re out of breath when you approach him, but you speak before he can even turn around.
“Do you want me?”
The question hangs heavily in the distance between you two.
“What a stupid question,” and he looks like he’s in physical pain when he turns towards you, yet the warmth in his eyes is still there.
“I always want you, but every time I wake up to you, I have to remind myself that you don’t want me in the same way.”
He couldn't be more wrong.
“I think I love you,” you confess, quietly, as if you can't believe you're saying it yourself.
And it’s his turn to be speechless, mouth parted as his eyes widen at your confession.
“I want you, Doyoung— I want you so badly it hurts. This must be so selfish, but part of me thinks—no, wants to stay here forever, but another part of me is so fucking scared.”
He comes closer to you, gathering you in his arms as he always does. “Scared of what, baby?” Everything spills.
“I’m scared that this will just be like every other thing in my life—one day something is the center of my life, and then all of a sudden it means nothing. I won’t find meaning in it and go looking for the next best thing.”
“And is that how you feel about me?” he asks, and it breaks your heart.
“No! No… but what do I do if my feelings go away?” You feel choked up as you pour your heart out to him.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Doyoung,” you sob, and he pulls you to his chest, letting your tears soak his shirt as his hand rubs soothingly up and down your back. He just lets you let it out, and once you’ve calmed slightly, he continues.
“Please be honest with me—have you… have you felt the way you do for me about anyone else?”
His question hits you square in the chest—harder than any question has ever hit.
Because if you really think about it, every job you’ve had, every hobby you’ve explored, every place you’ve been, every person you’ve met—they’ve never made you feel this way. You’ve always chased and chased fulfillment, but he didn’t need to be chased—he was there, he was willing, he was home.
The thought of leaving terrifies you—and you’ve never felt that way. You’ve lived the pattern of passion and burn-out, but passion has never felt like this.
It’s never felt like the fresh ocean breeze on a sunny day, like the feeling of smooth, jet-black hair threaded between your fingers, like discovering new things about the same person every day and wanting to.
“You don’t have to answer that—actually don’t,” he says, still holding you against his chest. “I’m an adult, you know. I may not have seen as much of the world as you have, but I know what I want.”
You push back slightly so you can look at him, and you can see unshed tears in his eyes, too.
“You can do whatever you want, go wherever you want, but if you want me—really want me, then be selfish. Let me be yours. Let me be yours until you think you don’t want me anymore.”
You can’t help the tears that resurface, sniffling as your heart starts to settle.
“Then I’ll remind you again what it felt like in this moment.”
“And how the hell will you do that?” you ask between your tears and hiccups.
“I don't know, but trust me, I’ll figure it out.”
You laugh, and the gummy smile you’ve come to love lights his face.
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone else,” he assures, holding your face in his hands.
“And I don’t think I ever will.”
His gaze is unwavering, and every last bit of resolve crumbles.
“Please be mine Doyoung, please,” you cry, flinging your arms around him as you bring your mouth to his, the salty taste of your tears sitting between the two of you. When you separate, breathless, his smile has brightened even more. It's the brightest smile you’ve ever seen on him.
“Only if you’ll be mine, too.”
And for the first time in your life, the idea of forever doesn’t feel like the end, but just the beginning.
a/n: it’s done!!!!!!!!!!! this one goes out to my hyperfixaters...... guys,, getting myself to write anything, let alone a full fic, without absolutely hating and scrapping it has been a hard journey. but i'm doing my best, and hopefully that comes across in this fic :') a love letter to doyoung before he goes </3
also no weed??? in my sobriety era! jk ofc not, i just dont want my stuff to get redundant so im branching out, trying new things :)) thank you to bestie boo @onriyuview for beta reading!
please let me know your thoughts on this, feedback and shares are always welcome and appreciated greatly.
the world seemed quiet, except for chenle’s heartbeat against your chest as he hovered above you, grinning from ear to ear.
you were both tangled on top of your bed, the air filled with laughter and breathless kisses. it was new. all of it. new and warm and dizzying in the best way.
his lips tasted so sweet, and when he pulled away, just enough to talk, his eyes flicked to yours with that sparkle you were already getting addicted to.
“I’m gonna win you over and be the only one in your heart, alright?”
you blinked up at him, hair mussed, lips swollen, and heart already so far gone it was absolutely ridiculous. a nervous smile tugged at your mouth as your face flushed, “you’ve already won me over though…”
chenle froze for a beat, eyes widening a fraction before grinning again. “perfect,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose. “i love winning.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ sorry gang just trying to post while i cram through finals this week. i also like to imagine that sunoo shit talks and spreads tea at the great hours of midnight. also my first time doing enha texts don't kill me
˗ˋˏ ♡ kia’s note: hello all !!! >< pls pretend that the photos i chose for this DO match a lil bit at least… anyways, so, basically, how this is gonna work is that i have prompts based on songs listed below, and you can choose any member of nct (taeil not included, and i don’t mind writing for the wishies but since i don’t know them all that well it may be ooc…jst wanna put that out there !!) and i will do the prompt for them !! all you have to do is send in an ask with the title of the song and the member you want me to write it with ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა feel free to send a little message or wtv with it too !!!! i lovelovelovee reading my inbox you guys are so sweet :3 i hope that wasn’t too much lol i kinda yapped a lot i’m sorry…
kiss a kitty by chuu - ꒰ in which you introduce member to your pet cat for the first time… ꒱
love language by txt - ꒰ member’s love language, how they express their love to you ꒱
coming home by beabadoobee - ꒰ meeting member’s family at a family dinner for the first time, relatives pursue chaos ꒱
is this love by xg - ꒰ after being in a situationship of sorts, you’re unsure of your feelings for member by now, as they’ve started to progress to something deeper, and he feels it, too ꒱
smoke by jaehyun - ꒰ you’re singing your hearts out, feeling the cold wind from the open windows on your face and blowing your hair, and a confession slips out in the middle of a late night drive ꒱
scientist by twice - ꒰ in which you think spending so much time with member, constantly hanging around them like a vulture, may be enough of a sign, but they don’t seem to catch on ꒱
imperfect for you by ariana grande - ꒰. member helps you realize that, even though you’re not perfect, and neither is your lives, you’ll always have each other, and that’s all that matters ꒱
ticktack by illit - ꒰ you thought playing mario kart with member would be a good idea, but it seems one of you may have taken the game a lil too seriously ꒱
bubble gum by newjeans/njz - ꒰ a family picnic on the beach. thats all yes this is going to be a heavily self indulgent girl dad prompt i jst HAD to im sorry ꒱
btw, pls remember my whole acc is all for fun!! if i don’t do one of your requests, pls don’t take it personally :( i probably alr did it or did the prompt with another member, or maybe i didn’t like what i wrote. it’s pretty much never something you did, i promise !!
thank you for the tag :33 i really love these games hehe
🤓🍂🪐🌌🧸
@peterm4rker @pjsteroid @nebularsung @lyvhie @viasdreams @sinisxtea @yoshit-he-dinosaur @jae10velies @nanaxwii @yuwushi @anniebeckcalla + anyone who wants to join!! (i’m so sleepy i probably forgot a lot of moots :c)
@bambisncs @httpzsho @woniefication @suhnandmoon @aetherawasneverhere @chrrific @hoonstqr + i think this is all my moots but all the others are included!!
@ghstzzn @heesmiles @b1mbodoll @byshens @kireilien @kikidoul @bambisnc @woniefication @faeyun @fangel @emisluvr + all my other mutuals who i might've missed sry!)
am i tagging almost every single one of my moots? yes and? leave me alone. anyways even if u dont see me talk to u as much js know i appreciate n love u guys sososososo muchie teehee
ty babes @spacejip and @yoshit-he-dinosaur for the tag as well
tbh everyone has already been tagged atp so i’m just gonna say ily to all my cutieful moots i love u all sm mwah mwah kisses forever except for @polarisjisung u wouldn’t play roblox with me today
annas note: i know some of these aren’t proper love languages but i wanted to do something separately for each member! i hope i haven’t repeat anything… :/ it’s not proof read… please vouch for me if i have guys
ACTS OF SERVICE | MARK .
mark always pays attention to you, no matter what he’s doing. if he’s busy on his phone scrolling through socials, noticing that your skirt is slowly riding up, he carefully brings a hand toward it and pulls it down gently.
insists on carrying heavy bags, even just carrying your bag. no matter how many times you insist and say ‘no markie, ‘s light enough.’ he will make you give it to him so he can carry it on his shoulder.
if he notices you struggling with anything, oh he is right there instantly, helping you out and making everything better. "i saw you struggling, let me do it for you, hm? rest your pretty self."
SHARED EXPERIENCES | RENJUN .
renjun never usually says he misses you but you kind of get the hint when he invites you to do something with him - even if its just something as simple as going shopping or just going on a small walk to pick up some paint for his next painting.
he stores his best memories of you both in the back of his mind and usually tends to bring them up when you're both laying in bed together, "do you remember that time we got caught in the rain on our first date?" or "remember when i tripped over trying to get you ice cream because we were in such a hurry?"
he remembers all the firsts of your experiences together like: first movie you watched together, first silly inside joke, first time he realised he was in love during something totally mundane like making instant noodles at 2 in the morning after a long day. these things mean more to him than dramatic declarations.
QUALITY TIME | JENO .
as a homebody, jeno loves to be spending time indoors with you. making the most of it by watching a movie with you, or a show. he doesn’t mind. spending time with you is just worth it for him.
you both don’t need to speak, just being near each other is enough. you always find yourself sitting close to jeno, you love being by his side.
sunday mornings are the best for the both of you though. just laying in bed, all snuggled up under the covers, legs intertwined. your back against his chest, his arm wrapped around your waist and the other under your head. soft sighs, murmurs exiting your lips as you complain about not wanting to leave the covers.
PHYSICAL TOUCH | HAECHAN .
haechan will always have his hands on you, come on. who else would be clingy at 9am after just waking up. arms already wrapped around your waist, soft kisses trailing down your neck, his morning voice in your ear like a melody. “smells good, baby.”
whenever you’re sat somewhere, he always has a hand on the top of your knee or your thigh, gently squeezing sometimes. he loves doing it during a conversation you’ve noticed, either squeezing or playing piano chords on your leg. you don’t mind it though.
whenever you’re a little overwhelmed, haechan brings you to his side and wraps an arm around your shoulder, shushing you quietly and whispering sweet nothings while his hand trails small circles on your arm. his touch always calms you down, he knows what will calm you.
WORDS OF AFFIRMATION | JAEMIN .
jaemin is always there, complimenting you or expressing how proud of you he was even if it was just something small you did. he loved letting you know, just saying anything that comes to mind like: “im so proud of you, baby.” “you did great, alright?”
he’s always reassuring you whenever you feel down or just out of place in the world. his words mean so much to you, he always knows exactly what to say. “you’re doing the best you can, all you can do is try. you can’t be expected to always do good. it’s natural, it’s a human process. don’t worry your pretty little head, hm? i’m here for you and i see you.”
jaemin likes leaving a little something in your bag or just on the kitchen counter if he has to leave before you do. a photo he took of you during a date one time with a note that read: “the prettiest girl ever, always looking so stunning no matter what you do. have the best day, ‘m always here.”
QUALITY TIME/GIFTS | CHENLE
chenle hates to admit it but he loves spending time with you. he always gets you to cook with him, softly wrapping his arms around your waist as he watches you cut some vegetables up. "i'm just waiting for the pot to heat up, i'll watch you do this." he mumbled into your neck.
you casually mentioned liking a certain plushie, obscure snack, or pair of socks with capybaras on them once.. or twice (can't blame you) and next thing you know, it’s sitting on your desk with a sticky note that says, “this reminded me of your weird little brain. hope you like it baby."
loves cuddling up on the sofa in the living room, putting on one of stephen currys old basketball matches with food on the way for the both of you to enjoy for the night. you don't mind watching it because its time together and you barely had that time so you both are taking it for granted before he gets busy again.
DIGITAL CONNECTION | JISUNG
jisung loves sending you memes that he thinks you would find funny, maybe even some that he knows the both of you will giggle at. even tiktoks, throughout the day, the notifications slowly piling up as he sends one with a ‘this is us’ or ‘reminded me of u :’)’.
he loves customising your online spaces together, whether that be on minecraft with matching skins, matching pfps, having the same handle on overwatch / slightly matching ones.. anything that matches you both together? yeah. customised straight away. especially your avatars on any game.. be prepared.
whenever you both are far from one another, you always end up facetiming late at night and falling asleep together after sharing your day. you always send photos to him while you’re away, updating him about it that way where as jisung was the type to spam text and send a video at least.
