summary: after a stormy stage and a rising fever, jiyong stumbles home soaked and shivering. between steam-filled baths and clingy cuddles, he remembers what it means to be loved gently.
author’s note: just a short update. i just had to, i’ve missed jiyong 🥹
tags: tooth-rotting fluff, slice of life, domestic love, boyfriend!jiyong, gentle intimacy, post-performance care, suggestive content
THE door creaked open with a soft click, followed by a muffled sniffle and a very tired groan.
You looked up from the bed just as Jiyong shuffled in, already changed into loose cotton pants and a thin white shirt under a robe. His pink hair was half-dried and clung to his forehead, and he was swaying a little as he walked. Worn out, wet from earlier, and very clearly unwell. And despite all that, he smiled weakly at the sight of you. Sniffling. He looks so tired but still, smiling like he hasn’t performed in front of thousands earlier.
“Ji?” you called softly, already rising from the edge of the bed, tossing the hotel throw aside.
“Baby…” His voice rasped as he sniffled, dragging his robe tighter across his chest.
In a dimly lit hallway of the luxurious suite, framed by the downlight overhead, stood your boyfriend, Kwon Jiyong.
“…I’m home,” he mumbled, voice raspy and low.
“Oh my god, baby,” you whispered, crossing the room fast. You reached out, catching his cold cheeks in your palms. “You’re burning up.”
“It was pouring… I think I inhaled the rain,” he croaked, then coughed. A deep, chesty sound that made your stomach twist. You touched his forehead, then his cheeks. He was burning hot.
“I told you to wear something heavier,” you scolded, though your tone was soft. “The weather app said 90% chance of a downpour.”
“I wore my soul onstage,” he grinned blearily, leaning his full weight into you.
You stumbled back a step, catching him by the waist. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m sick,” he whined dramatically, “and I need affection. Stat.”
“Okay, drama king,” you sighed. “Let’s get you in the bath.”
“I knew you’d say that,” he sniffled as you helped guide him toward the bathroom. “Bath me like one of your French girls.”
You snorted. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
“But you love me.”
“Unfortunately for me, I do.”
YOU adjusted the tap as the steam fogged up the mirror, checking the temperature one last time. The oils you added—lavender, eucalyptus, and a little yuzu scented the air like a healing spell. Behind you, Jiyong leaned weakly against the doorframe, arms crossed but robe slipping off one shoulder.
“I looked cool though,” he croaked, voice rough, and then he sneezed violently into his elbow. “Didn’t I?”
“No. You looked like a drowned rockstar,” you said, tugging him inside by the sleeve of his robe. “Which, unfortunately, you are. Now, take your clothes off.”
His tired eyes blinked, slowly curling into a smirk. “Usually I have to ask for that first.”
“Don’t test me, Kwon Jiyong.”
He stripped slowly, obediently, as you fetched towels and dry clothes. His skin was cold to the touch, clammy in the way that made your stomach twist. You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead and winced. Fever. Already. You weren’t even surprised.
“Baby, sit down,” you instructed, pushing him gently onto the edge of the tub as you towel-dried his hair. His head lulled forward against your stomach as you did, his hands lazily hugging your waist, and you could feel how heavy his breathing was. “You’ve gotta stop pushing yourself this far.”
He obeyed, lowering himself slowly into the water with a long, shaky exhale. The tension in his shoulders dropped instantly as the lukewarm water enveloped him.
“God,” he muttered, eyes falling shut. “That’s so much better…”
You knelt beside the tub, dipping the washcloth in the water. Your fingers skimmed gently over his chest.
He smiled lazily. “You’re so pretty when you fuss over me.”
“You’re so dumb when you don’t listen,” you countered softly, brushing his damp bangs off his forehead.
He cracked one eye open. “Hey.”
“No, seriously.” You pressed the cold cloth to his neck. “Why’d you take your hat off?”
Jiyong flinched slightly not from the cloth, but from your tone. You continued, gently but firm. “It was pouring, Ji. I watched you stand in the middle of the stage with your head bowed, letting the rain drench you like a human sponge. You looked beautiful, but…”
“I didn’t want to block my face from the crowd,” he mumbled, throat scratchy. “It’s been almost a year since I came back. I didn’t want them to feel like I was hiding.”
You swallowed down the sting in your throat. “But at what cost?”
He shrugged a little, then winced—his shoulders sore. “If I could give them more, I would. Even if it’s just my bare face in the rain. They waited so long.”
You gently squeezed the cloth and ran it over his shoulder. “But they didn’t wait just for that, Ji. They waited because they love you. Not your skin, not your hair. You.”
He let out a soft breath. “I know…”
You paused. “You didn’t have to prove anything tonight.”
“I wasn’t trying to prove anything,” he whispered, eyes fixed on the rippling surface of the water. “I just… I wanted them to feel like it was worth it. That I was worth it.”
Your heart ached. “You’re worth it regardless of how hard you push yourself. You’ve always been worth it, even in silence, even in rest.”
He looked up then, really looked at you, like he needed to hear that in more than words.
“I missed this,” he said after a beat. “Being taken care of. Being seen… not as a performer or some comeback poster boy. Just… as me.”
“You’re always just you to me,” you whispered, cupping his cheek gently. His eyes fluttered shut under your touch.
“I hate that you felt like you had to overdo it tonight,” you added, a bit quieter. “I love your passion, but… you scared me out there.”
“I didn’t mean to,” he murmured. “I just got caught in the moment.”
You leaned down, your forehead brushing his. “I know.”
Then, in the softest voice, you added, “Next time, keep the damn hat on.”
That made him chuckle. A real one, rough but genuine. “Yes, ma’am.”
He reached for your hands, water dripping off his fingers as he pulled you closer. “Come in.”
“I just got you settled.”
“And now you’re going to settle me more,” he said, eyes big and pitiful. “Please. Just a little bit. I’ll behave.”
“You never behave.”
“I’ll try harder than I did for the fans,” he offered, tugging your wrist.
You sighed but smiled. “Okay. But you’re not dragging me under. No funny business.”
“I’m too sick for anything but love.”
You reached for the hem of your shirt. And as you began undressing, you noticed the way his breathing subtly shifted. His eyes were glassy from fever but undeniably focused, followed every movement of your hands. Your shirt slid up and over your head, tossed aside. Then your shorts. Your fingers hooked into the waistband, sliding it down slow, deliberate.
Jiyong blinked slowly like he was watching art unfold. You weren’t trying to be seductive but there was something raw, something quietly charged in the way his gaze never left you.
You could feel his reverence in the air. He said nothing but the slight parting of his lips, the lazy tilt of his head, and the breath he forgot to exhale spoke volumes.
“Yah,” you teased, looking down at him. “You’re drooling.”
He let out a choked little laugh, eyes still fixed on you like you were something fragile and holy. “I’m… admiring the view. It’s part of my recovery process.”
You stepped in, the warmth soothing your legs immediately. Jiyong adjusted, making space for you behind him. The moment you sat, his back pressed into your chest like puzzle pieces fitting together. His head lolled back on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him, hands splayed across his chest, his heartbeat thudding slow and steady beneath your fingers.
“You okay?” you whispered, arms slipping around his waist. He nodded slowly, breath catching.
“You’re warm,” he said softly. “So warm…”
Your hands gently moved along his chest, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You still have a fever.”
“This,” he mumbled. “This is my encore.”
You kissed the top of his head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But happy,” he whispered.
You smiled, fingers drawing little patterns on his stomach as his body relaxed completely in your arms. You held him tighter, water sloshing softly around you both. “Then I am too.”
ʚɞ CONTENT WARNINGS! angst. jealousy. some immaturity from both reader and jiyong. fluff. kissing.
ʚɞ THE PLOT? what could go wrong after a sasaeng finds out about your relationship with jiyong? a lot.
ʚɞ A/N. thank you so much for requesting! I hope I’m able to cover everything you possibly wanted, please enjoy and don’t be afraid to request again! xoxo
“what’s wrong?” usually the sound of seunghyun’s deep voice startled you. not necessarily in a bad way but sometimes he was so quiet that hearing such a voice like that out of nowhere made you jump. you didn’t answer him. how could you? “nothing. I think I need to head home, it’s getting late and I’m tired. tell jiyong I’ll see him tomorrow.” it was sudden. almost rude. seunghyun has never seen you so.. flustered. the color in your face had completely drained and your eyes were large, hands shaky and slightly sweaty.
unfortunately for you he wasn’t going to let this go. once your hand reached the door knob his large frame stood over you, “something’s wrong.” is all he said and you felt small. not scared. but.. unwell. this was your problem and your secret, not his. he didn’t need to know but the evidence was already there as he looked down at your phone screen. at the harsh, cold, and sickening messages from a unknown number.
“what the hell is this?” and his warm hand took the phone right from your cold shaky one, reading each message that had been sent since the beginning of last week. “seunghyun please—” he wouldn’t let you finish and you didn’t want to after seeing the look on his face. “they’re threatening you with dispatch?” you closed your eyes. was this a dream? of course it was! you’d wake up any minute now, right? …right? after hearing him take a deep breath you knew this was reality.
“this is all my fault! I told jiyong that I would stay back during the rehearsal.. I knew something like this would end up happening. this is all my fault. I’m distracting him from you, the group, and the fans. I’m so sorry.” the sound of your heart pounding was so loud in your ears, seunghyun had to of heard. taking the phone back from his hands, you were quick to get out of the messages. not knowing how to respond when everything presented was.. the truth.
“tell him.” you thought this was some unfunny joke when you heard those two words. how could you possibly tell jiyong you’re being threatened? not just with dispatch but death. “are you crazy? how could I tell him this? it’ll make things worse. I.. I need to do something else about it. I’ll figure it out.” and just has his hands reached for the phone again—the door opened, revealing a tired looking jiyong.
you were quick to leave his side and didn’t realize how suspicious and weird everything looked from jiyong’s point of view. his dark eyebrows furrowed and looked between you and seunghyun, “what’s going on?” he was more than tired, he looked and sounded so exhausted. adding all of this onto his already tight and busy schedule would’ve made you a terrible person and you just couldn’t bring yourself to do so. seunghyun? didn’t say a word. his stare was intense and you refused to make eye contact with him. “nothing! I was just.. showing him something I found for you. I don’t need you seeing it, so don’t look!” could you pull this off? no. jiyong wasn’t stupid but unfortunately for you.. it was about to get much worse from this day forward.
weeks went by and things only got worse for both you and jiyong. he hardly spoke to you, called you, looked at you.. didn’t hug or kiss you. it was pure agony and you couldn’t understand why. why would he act so childish and cold towards you? that was until daesung invited you to his house for dinner. just you two which wasn’t abnormal considering you two were the bestest of friends. the messages didn’t stop. the pictures didn’t stop coming in. the threatening to get dispatch involved was more forceful and the death threats.. were even more disturbing than before. at this point cutting all ties with jiyong would be for the best but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. you loved him.
“we usually joke and have fun when you come over but I think it’s time you tell him what’s going on.” and just as you thought this would all go away, it’s brought up again. “dae—” the faint sound of footsteps stopped you in your tracks, “are you going to let him think you were getting down with seunghyun?” youngbae. you quickly turned around to see him standing behind you, his arms crossed over his chest. “what are you talking about?” were you this clueless? sure for the few weeks he’s been acting like this towards you.. seunghyun has been pushing and pushing for you to tell him. you both being alone in rooms arguing about it. calling each other, texting nonstop. it wasn’t at all what jiyong thought and you felt an intense wave of nausea hit you like a ton of bricks. “why… why would he think such a awful thing? does he seriously think I’m that type of person? to cheat on him?” your vision blurred and a single warm teardrop ran down your cheek.
“hey. don’t cry.” youngbae was always the best at words and comfort. the warmth he gave off was the best feeling ever.. almost as good as how you felt with jiyong. of course both were so different. one was love you yearned for and the other was the comfort of one of your best friends. to have both meant the world to you and it made you feel even more upset to think jiyong thought the worst from you and his best friend.
weeks passed once more. you continued to show up at rehearsals just for daesung and youngbae at least. but.. today was different. a girl was there. one you weren’t too sure about. it was a friend of daesung’s and she happened to be a dancer which they needed for this specific performance. the way she smiled at jiyong and he would smile back made you want to vomit. you felt weak and almost light headed. at this point the stress was overwhelming and your body fell limp. your hands caught ahold of the table in front of you where a guy yelled for you to get off—you’d break the equipment.
jiyong laughing and smiling with that girl just to get back at you was such a immature thing to do and it was the last straw. “let me take you home.” seunghyun’s deep voice came from the side of you and you shook your head, pushing him away from you. “this is all because of me. I’ll be leaving on my own. don’t call me. text me. I don’t care anymore.” that didn’t stop him from grabbing ahold of you, “you’re not leaving by yourself in this condition.” maybe that was the final straw. you pushed him. hard. using the rest of whatever strength you had left. “I said leave me alone!!” your shaky hands grabbed ahold of your bag and you slowly made your way out of the building you didn’t ever want to see again. all alone you’ve had to endure so much pain and suffering and the final straw was jiyong not caring enough to know or acknowledge that you obviously haven’t been okay for weeks now.
but.. who’s fault was that? your own. this could have all been avoided if you both had acted like the adults you were. sadly you didn’t have your car which meant it was bus waiting time, something you absolutely hated the most. “this is so unfair..” you muttered to yourself and thankfully no one else was around. at least that’s what you thought. for just a few seconds you had closed your eyes, resting them, wanting them to stop burning from the no sleep you were getting. maybe allowing them to close and rest would help them but your body needed real genuine rest, not manipulation.
slowly opening them, you found yourself looking at someone’s shoe. it frightened you. slowly looking up your eyes met with a younger girl who looked sweet and kind but something was off. “um may I help you..?” she didn’t reply. the stare was intense, dark, and cold. it send shivers down your spine and something told you to move. get out of there. before you could she raised her own hand and grabbed a fist full of your hair pulling you to the ground. “dirty bitch!” the first kick met with your ribs which instantly knocked the wind out of you. a gasp left your lips and your hands moved up to grab onto your own side but she kicked again, stinging radiating down your finger. words weren’t able to form and you couldn’t even scream. you felt stuck. could you.. die from this? your last goodbye was fighting with jiyong for weeks and even shoving seunghyun. how awful were you. a tear rolled down your warm cheek and before you could endure another kick, the girl flung to the side—being pushed by another female and a shouting male coming up to your side. the smell. it was jiyong. his hands cupped your face and immediately pulled you into his chest. he promised before you two started dating that he would protect you no matter the date or time. no matter the situation it was.
“I’m so sorry this happened. why didn’t you tell me any of this was happening? you had me.. you had me, I don’t even want to say it.” and he didn’t. you knew what it was but refused to say anything about it as well just leaving it at that. why jiyong would still have such insecurities when he was a perfect soul was beyond you. “I’m sorry.” your voice cracked. for the past few weeks you’ve dealt with nothing but fear and anxiety. all because you couldn’t tell jiyong what was happening which only hurt you both in the end. lesson learned.
without another word, jiyong leans in to press a single soft kiss to your lips before helping you to your feet again. you wince in pain and he immediately pulls you into him, your head resting against his own. “hey. I called the cops and they’re on the way. you need to report all of this okay?” daesung’s friend. the one jiyong had been.. dancing with, laughing with, and smiling at. she was sweet and sincere which made you feel worse about the situation. “thank you.” is all you said with a gentle smile. she smiled back before walking away.
weeks passed again. this time? you and jiyong were fine. charges were pressed and things were being taken care of which meant that you and him both would be safe. the relationship? not so much. dispatch had been involved before you knew it and published the article within seconds after everything had happened that day. jiyong wasn’t sweating it so why should you? he even posted an instagram story of you both in the studio. he wasn’t afraid to show you off nor was he afraid for everyone to know just how much he cared for you and needed you. “what do you think of this beat?” you tilted your head to the side and nodded along to it.
jiyong stared at you the entire time. reaching up to trace your pretty features with his finger before leaning towards you, placing a few soft and gentle kisses around your face. “hey! focus.” you playfully scolded him and his cheeks turned a faint pink color. “how can I when the most beautiful girl is sitting next to me?” it was your turn to be flustered. jiyong always knew what to say to make you feel like the luckiest girl ever.
all content belongs to ppopkkiimp3. do not alter, copy, or repost my works without permission.
Hihi!! May i request a g dragon x kpop idol reader ? (Maybe she is from the group 2ne1) and its like how they fall for eachother in shared concerts , award shows , interviews etc..
sorry if this is not specific enough ^^”
Lysm!!
Stolen Glances & Silent Love
(A G-Dragon x K-pop Idol!Reader Love Story – 2NE1 Era)
G-Dragon and the reader, a 2NE1 member, slowly fall for each other through shared performances, award shows, and quiet moments backstage. Their chemistry grows over time, leading to an unspoken but undeniable connection.
hii!! tysm for requesting! i hope this is to your liking,reposts and comments are appreciated!
part 2 is here
The first time you met G-Dragon, it was backstage at your debut stage.
BIGBANG had just finished performing, their energy still radiating in the waiting room, while you and your fellow 2NE1 members were mentally preparing for your first-ever live broadcast. The nerves had kicked in, but your leader, CL, had been hyping you up, telling you that everything would be fine.
Then, in the middle of that chaotic moment, a voice cut through.
“Nervous?”
You turned to see G-Dragon, leaning against the doorway, watching you with an amused but understanding gaze. You had admired him for years—who hadn’t? He was G-Dragon, the leader of BIGBANG, the genius behind some of K-pop’s biggest hits.
“A little,” you admitted, gripping your mic.
“Good,” he chuckled. “Means you care. Just don’t forget to have fun. YG picked you girls for a reason.”
He gave you a small nod before walking off, and as simple as it was, his words stuck with you.
That night, you performed like your life depended on it. And when you came off stage, the first person you made eye contact with was him. He was watching, smiling, and clapping.
That was the beginning.
Award Shows & Hidden Conversations
As 2NE1’s success skyrocketed, your interactions with G-Dragon became more frequent. YG Family was close, and between overlapping schedules, joint performances, and year-end award shows, you found yourself in his orbit often.
One of the most memorable moments happened at an MAMA Awards show.
2NE1 and BIGBANG were seated at the same table, and cameras frequently cut to your reactions throughout the night. You were mindful of your expressions, but whenever something funny happened on stage, you and Jiyong would instinctively glance at each other.
It was a game you two had—sharing silent conversations across the room.
When 2NE1 was announced as the Best Female Group, the entire YG table erupted in cheers, but your eyes sought out Jiyong’s first. He grinned at you, clapping enthusiastically, and as you walked past him to get to the stage, he leaned in ever so slightly and murmured,
“Told you you had that fire.”
You almost tripped in your heels.
Later that night, while waiting for the encore stage, you found yourself standing next to him backstage. The two of you watched as idols from different companies congratulated each other, some exchanging polite bows, others hugging excitedly.
“You should enjoy this more,” Jiyong suddenly said.
You tilted your head. “I am enjoying it.”
He smirked. “No, I mean… let yourself have fun. Don’t get so caught up in the pressure.”
You rolled your eyes. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re G-Dragon. You own the stage.”
For a second, something shifted in his expression. He looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could, CL called for you, and just like that, the moment was gone.
But it lingered in your mind for a long time after.
Interviews & Subtle Flirting
The industry started noticing the way you and G-Dragon interacted.
During a variety show appearance, a segment about ideal types came up. One of the MCs jokingly asked,
“YG artists are close, right? Have you ever had a crush on someone from your company?”
Your members laughed and teased each other, but you only smiled and took a sip of water.
Then, the MC turned to Jiyong, who was also a guest on the show.
“How about you, GD? Anyone from YG catch your eye?”
The question was innocent, but the moment it was asked, you felt CL and Dara subtly glance at you. Trying to stay composed, you kept your expression neutral.
Jiyong smirked. “YG has a lot of talented people. Hard not to be impressed.”
The MCs weren’t satisfied. “Come on, give us a name!”
He tapped his chin playfully, pretending to think. Then, with a casual shrug, he said, “Well, I’ve always thought someone with… a strong stage presence and great energy is attractive.”
It was vague enough to be safe, but everyone at the table knew who he meant.
Your members giggled, nudging you, while you simply rolled your eyes and tried to focus on your drink. But the warmth on your cheeks betrayed you.
Shared Stages, Shared Feelings
Things escalated during a YG Family Concert.
For a special collaboration stage, you were paired with G-Dragon for a remix of one of his solo songs.
Rehearsals were fun—he was playful, always finding ways to make you laugh. He’d tease you about your dance moves, challenge you to freestyle battles, and even joke about how you were too serious about nailing the performance.
“If we mess up, just blame it on me,” he’d say. “I’m used to taking the heat.”
But when the real performance happened, the atmosphere changed.
There was something different in the way he looked at you under the stage lights, the way his hand lingered on your waist a second too long, the way your voices blended effortlessly.
Fans noticed. Your members noticed. Even YG himself raised an eyebrow.
And after the show, when you found yourselves alone in the hallway, catching your breath, Jiyong simply looked at you and smirked.
“That was fun.”
You exhaled, still processing everything. “Yeah… it was.”
He tilted his head. “You’re thinking too much again.”
You shot him a look. “You always say that.”
He shrugged, grinning. “Because it’s true.”
And just like that, he walked off, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding.
Late-Night Conversations & Quiet Confessions
The more time passed, the more stolen moments you two shared.
Late-night studio visits where he’d play you unreleased tracks and ask for your opinion. Messages exchanged between busy schedules. Inside jokes whispered during interviews.
One night, after a particularly long day of rehearsals, you found yourself on the YG rooftop, staring at the city skyline. The air was cool, and without thinking, he draped his jacket over your shoulders.
“You ever think about what comes after all this?” he asked.
You glanced at him. “Sometimes. But I don’t know if I want to imagine a future without music.”
He smiled, nodding. “Same. But lately… I think I’d want a future with someone who understands it, too.”
Your heart skipped a beat. Maybe he wasn’t just talking about music anymore.
The Beginning of Something More
There was no dramatic confession. No grand gestures.
Just stolen glances, quiet conversations, and a slow realization that somewhere along the way, between concerts, award shows, and late-night talks, you had fallen for each other.
Summary: Whenever her heart gets broken she knows who to call. Her best friend Jiyong has cute cats and hugs and expensive wine to make it all better.
Whenever her heart gets broken his breaks as well, every new idiot who doesn't deserve her a new crack.
Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, protected sex, swearing, alcohol, friends-to-lovers, pining, female character is dramatic and Ji loves it, don't get me wrong - this is mainly fluff, so why did she buy that vacuum cleaner? Even I have questions.
<3: Hello, long time no see. The GD Paris concert was five days ago and I am still completely overwhelmed. Whenever I try to talk about it I choke up... Cool, so this is life now. But at least it finally made me finish this one shot for @jiyongsangel Man's Best Friend writing challenge (Thanks for asking me, love doing those! <3) This is for the song Nobody's Son by Sabrina Carpenter which at first challenged me because I have... absolutely no interest in writing about toxic romantic interests but I think i found a way to incorporate the song into the story in another way nonetheless, let me know what you think. <3 I hope it won't be too long before the next update of one of my stories but I am going on vacation (Seoul<3) next month and before every weekend is chaotic. But I am trying my best.
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I am crying when Jiyong picks up.
“He broke up with me!”
No hellos. At first, no reaction either. Just silence on the other end while my blurry vision scans the rainy street in front of the dark, lonely bus stop where I sit.
“What? Weren’t you having dinner with his parents tonight?”
“I thought so too.” My voice almost hiccups from crying. “But then he showed up alone and told me we should take a break because he needs to grow emotionally instead.”
Ji curses under his breath. Apparently, he finds that reason just as pretentious as I do. When the words came out of my (now) ex’s mouth, I thought it was a joke for a second. His face said otherwise.
“What a… fuckface.” That’s one way to put it. “Where are you now?”
“I… I bought wine and gummy worms and a new vacuum cleaner and now I am sitting with all that in a bus stop and…”
“Okay, what… why… why did you buy a… ah, whatever. You want to come over?”
Obviously, I want to come over. That is why I called. That is why I always call.
It’s not like we only see each other when my heart breaks; Jiyong and I have been friends since our early twenties. We’ve shared the good times, even had a joint birthday party or two. Group vacations. If he weren’t usually busy being a superstar, I’d say he’s my best friend. Well… no, he is my best friend.
But I definitely always do call him when I get my heart broken. He’s nice to me, he has cats to cuddle and that huge bathtub in his apartment. It’s just good being around him when I feel bad. Everyone should have a comfort-Jiyong. And did I mention the huge bathtub?
“Yeah, is that okay?” I still ask and he scoffs, because it's a stupid question and hangs up. Rude?
I get an Uber. The driver looks a little confused at the mascara-stained woman with a vacuum cleaner box on her lap, headed to Hannam. He doesn’t ask. I lean back dramatically and stare out at the lights flashing past.
A bit later, I kick Ji’s door with my foot because my hands are full. Half with the box and the grocery bag of cheap wine and candy, half with my pride in shreds. Jiyong stares like I’ve tracked mud into his spotless apartment, which I probably have. His hair is messy in a way that says he didn’t plan for company, but I don’t care.
“You look like hell.” he says.
“I look like a woman scorned.” I kick off my shoes, shuffle past him and collapse on the couch. The cats follow me like I’m a human jungle gym, climbing onto my lap before I can even open the wine. “Your children missed me.”
“They like whoever feeds them.” He sets the bag on the table, pulls out the wine and raises a brow. “You brought screw-top Merlot. Truly the taste of heartbreak. I have better stuff here?”
“Don’t mock me in my time of suffering. And of course I couldn’t come empty-handed.” He scoffs again. I always invite myself over and pretend cheap wine makes us even. And then we usually drink his expensive stuff. Not sure what happens to my bottles actually.
I hold out my hands. “Pour it, servant.”
He ignores me, twists the cap and takes the first swig himself, straight from the bottle. I gasp like he just stole my firstborn.
“I needed that.” he groans, but when I reach for it, he lifts it higher.
“You’re supposed to comfort me.”
“I am comforting you. By saving you from drinking this.” Still, he hands it over. I take a huge sip. It’s gross. When I finally come up for air, he asks “So what did this one do?”
I fling myself dramatically against the couch cushion. “He was nobody’s son.”
Jiyong blinks. “And what the hell does that mean?”
“It means he was pretty, charming, sweet and absolutely allergic to commitment. It means I wasted six months on another guy who only wanted the honeymoon phase, but didn’t bother to tell me.”
“You mean he was an asshole.”
“Yes, thank you, Detective Obvious.” I pat Zoa, bury my face in her fur and mumble, “I just want someone who’ll love me forever. Is that so much to ask?”
From the corner of my eye, I see Ji watching me. Not laughing. Not teasing. Just watching with that unreadable expression he gets sometimes, like he knows something I don’t.
I swirl the bottle, watching the cheap red slosh. “He told me he was busy. All the time. Business trips, late nights, family dinners. Turns out…” I tip the bottle toward Jiyong like it’s a mic and pretend to be a game show host when I reveal the answer to it all. “…he was busy dating two other women. At the same time. Like a fucking group project.”
Jiyong freezes halfway into sitting down beside me. “You’re joking.”
“I wish.” I laugh, but it comes out cracked. “One of them DM’d me. Sent screenshots. Said she felt sorry for me. I confronted him and he said he didn’t realise we were THAT exclusive. For some reason, I said whatever, as long as from now on I’m the only one.” I look down, embarrassed. I do believe everyone should live the relationship model they want, but this was bullshit. We had talked about being exclusive when we… became exclusive? I knew he was lying, but I was sad and decided to turn a blind eye. “Et voilà. A couple of days later and he already decided I’m not enough. ‘Needs to grow emotionally’, my ass.”
Even now I am aware this is probably for the best… But he could have done it in a way that didn’t make me feel like I am the problem. Like I am too much and not enough at the same time.
Ji’s jaw tightens, sharp as glass. “Where is he now?”
I blink. “Why?”
“So I can have him buried in the mountains.”
Despite myself, I grin. “So you kill people now?”
Ji shrugs, ruffling his hair. “I wouldn’t get caught. Or at least the people I would pay wouldn’t get caught.” His eyes flick to me, the muscle in his cheek jumps. “He strung you along for months. Lied to your face. Made you think you were crazy for wanting more. Do you know how much I want to kill him right now?”
“Aw.” I coo, reaching out with the bottle like I might toast him. “You love me.”
Jiyong’s face twitches. “I do, which is why I’m angry.” He leans forward. “Why do you keep letting men like that near you?”
The smile fades. My heart sinks. “Excuse me?”
“You fall for the same type every single time. Pretty face, smooth lines, a little mystery and you jump headfirst like you’ve never been burned before. The next one will be different, sure. One was a chaebol heir, one was American, one was a lawyer. But inside they were all shit.”
I sit up, indignant. “So this is my fault now?”
“I didn’t say that.” His voice is tight, rising. “I’m saying you need to be more careful. You say you want something real, but you’re not even looking in the right direction.”
I shove the cat off my lap and set the bottle down too hard. “Thanks, Ji. Really supportive.” My voice a bit shriller than I would have liked it to be.
He drags a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I am supportive. I’ve been supportive for years. I’ve been here every time some idiot breaks your heart. Do you know how insane it drives me to watch you cry over men who don’t even deserve to know your name?”
The mood shifts. We always banter, sure. But this is different. He’s not play-annoyed. He’s actually annoyed. And it hurts.
My throat tightens. I fight it. “You think I like this? You think I enjoy getting wrecked every few months? I want something serious, Ji. I want flowers, anniversaries, a family one day. I want someone who stays and is crazy about me. It’s not like I’m asking for the moon.”
“You say that, but your actions don’t match.” His voice is sharp, almost a shout. “If you really wanted that, you wouldn’t keep choosing men who run at the first sign of responsibility.”
I push to my feet, heat flooding my face. So that’s what he thinks? Really thinks? That I’m some masochist who’d rather get my heart broken than date for real? Fuck him. Also: “And where the hell are these men you think I’m supposed to find, oh wise rapper GD? Point them out, please. I’ll go get one right now.”
At some point, he’s stood too. The air between us is heavy. His jaw flexes. We haven’t fought like this since the New Year’s fiasco in 2015. Then he jabs a finger at his own chest.
“Here. Right here. Open your damn eyes.”
I blink at him, stunned. “Very funny.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” His voice is low, rough. “You want someone who’ll stay? Who’ll give you family and flowers and big gestures? I would. I’d give you all of it. I’d love to make you happy. I’d love to have children with you.” His mouth twists into something like a smirk, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’d even enjoy the process.”
My heart stumbles. “Oh fuck off… you’re crazy.”
“No. I’m not.” His frustration is all over him: eyes sharp, shoulders tense, hands restless. “I’m just a good man you refuse to see. Because you’re too busy chasing idiots. And I would know… I used to be the biggest idiot. Still am often, actually. But not with you. For you, I’d be good.”
The silence that follows is unbearable. My pulse is thundering in my ears.
I grab my bag, because if I don’t leave right now, I’ll say something I can’t take back. “I need air.” I mutter, pushing past him. He doesn’t stop me.
…but outside, there’s not enough air to erase what I just heard.
“Clearly he’s doing harder drugs now.” I mutter in an Uber a couple of minutes later, even though he seemed perfectly sober. He was wearing pyjamas. Who does hard drugs in pyjamas? Ah, what do I know.
“What? Who is?” The cabbie looks confused, which is fair. These are the first words I’ve said to him.
“My best friend. Who just told me he wants to start a family with me. He must be using.”
Silence.
“Or… he wants to start a family with you?” the guy offers. I shoot him an evil look. He has a two-star rating coming his way.
At home, I sit by the window and feel like crying.
What the fuck happened tonight. Over the next couple of days, I try to convince myself he didn’t mean it. He MUST not have meant it. Maybe he was speaking figuratively. Like… good men like him. Not him. It’s not that I never thought about it, of course. Considering these things, especially when meeting someone new, is normal, right? And we even kissed once. Or twice? But it was a dare when we got drunk and we were basically babies. Okay, maybe twenty-four, but I can barely remember it and we never talked about it again and… well… does it even count if it’s been so long?
I don’t text him. And he doesn’t text me either. A week later, while I’m at work, my phone finally buzzes.
Jiyong: Your vacuum cleaner is still here. Should I let someone bring it over to you?
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help with the move.” I say, collapsing a box of kitchen utensils.
She takes it and drops it with the others. “I mean… you are right now, right?”
I shrug, then nod. “Well, yeah, but you know what I mean…”
She waves it off. “You were busy abroad, I get it. Also… what would that have looked like? You? Signing autographs in front of my ex’s apartment instead of helping?”
She touches my arm, teasing like I couldn’t carry much anyway. I swat her hand away and grab a heavy stack of plates, trying to lift it to the highest shelf like it’s effortless. It’s not, but my ego needs it.
She’s right, of course. Still, I’m here now.
Even I thought this relationship might last. After my usual jealous streak when she found someone new, I admitted the guy seemed decent. Should’ve known something was off. Tax evasion on the level of jail time? New. Cheating on her with his lawyer? That’s a new record, even for her. She’s so fucking unlucky with men, my god.
“Still, thanks for always being there, Ji. I promise the next one will be the last. So you won’t have to pick up the pieces again.”
I can’t help smiling at her. She still believes in the next one. The one true love. It’s always the next person she dates. She’s a hopeless romantic and after all the shit she’s been through, I admire her for it.
Break-up no. 7 – Five years ago
“And so… basically… It’s a good thing.” She says it like she almost believes it. I don’t, but who cares. My job is to listen. “I can finally concentrate on what’s important.”
We’re at a bar. She looks incredible, hair freshly cut, outfit perfectly styled. She needs to believe she’s fine with the breakup. And even though I told her he was bad news from the start, I can’t gloat. At least she isn’t crying or drunk. This could still be a good night.
“Good, I’m glad. Whatever makes you happy.” I smile at her.
She scans my face, suspicious, but I just keep smiling and nudge the shared starter platter toward her. She takes some, then looks down. Her shoulders sink and my heart cracks.
Of course, she has priorities outside her love life. But I know her. Her number one priority has always been love. Lover girl. I relate.
“Man, I can already tell this will be good for you. You’re glowing. You look so good tonight.” I blurt it out without thinking, just trying to make her feel better.
She looks up again, smiling, beaming almost. Exactly what she needed to hear.
I’m getting too good at this.
Break-up no. 1 – Seven years ago, four months after they met
She calls me in the middle of the night. If I’m honest, I half-hope it’s a drunk booty call. Instead, she’s crying so hard she can barely talk. Eventually, I get a location out of her. Not far, but it’s pouring, a Saturday night, people everywhere. I throw on a hoodie and a mask and hurry there.
I find her sitting on the sidewalk, clutching a soju bottle in each hand. Pathetic, but also a little funny.
“Aish… what’s going on, it can’t be that bad…”
She looks up, face a mess, lets the bottles drop and raises her arm like a toddler who wants to be picked up. I can’t lift her, but I can sit beside her and wrap my arms around her.
“What happened?”
“He… he left me and I didn’t know who else to call…”
Her head is on my shoulder, soaking it with tears.
Let’s be honest. I’m not used to being friend-zoned this hard. When we met a few months ago, I flirted. She thought I was joking, laughed, kept telling me about her boyfriend. The guy’s good-looking, sure, but I’m cooler. Didn’t matter. To her, I was the party buddy. Then the hangover buddy. Now? The emergency-contact buddy. A “good friend.”
Not sure I’m comfortable with that.
But her sobs are loud, people stare and my heart hurts because hers does.
“Hey, it’s gonna be fine, little one.” I say it softly, because I know how it feels. I just show it differently. Less crying, more angry lyrics.
“No, it won’t. I’ll never be happy again. There’s no one like him.”
I almost laugh. She’s so dramatic and I always liked that about her. That night we met at the club, she told me to remember her face, because meeting her would soon be one of my most cherished memories. I laughed, asked why and she just said Watch me, downed two shots and did the dumbest little dance under purple and yellow lights. Just ran straight to the by that time of the night emptied dance floor. No skill, no sex appeal, just pure fun. She indeed was unforgettable.
I think I fell for her right then and there.
So I hug her tighter, swaying. “Ah, bullshit. There are a million guys for you. All with great hair, dumb jokes, amazing in bed. It’s good he’s gone - you wouldn’t meet them if he was still around.”
She laughs a little, then cries again. But that’s okay. I’ll hold her until she stops.
I think I’ve been in love with her since that stupid dance. But she doesn’t love me back and being her friend is the next best thing.
HER
Two weeks later, I go to pick up the vacuum. It’s the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other, I guess. When he’s on tour, I sometimes don’t see him for months, but that feels different. I still get sleepy voice notes and cat pictures from his housekeeper. I’ve even hung out at his place when he wasn’t home - he thought it was weird, but I told him the cats shouldn’t be abandoned by me just because he did.
Every day, I had moments where I thought, I need to tell Jiyong about this. But I didn’t. It’s awkward. We both know it.
I’m low-key sweating in the elevator.
And then… It’s fine. Weird and different, but fine. He pretends nothing ever happened, so I do too. We chat. He tells me what he’s been up to. We eat ramen. I go home. Not how we usually are, but maybe we just needed to shake it off.
The next morning, I still feel weird. I miss my friend. I miss Ji.
My brain keeps circling. Maybe he only said it to prove a point. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe he lost his mind. But sometimes, sitting at work, I wonder. What if…?
Wouldn’t being friends first be a solid base for something real? That’s what people with healthy long-term relationships often say. Ignoring the chaos of his fame, he’d make a good boyfriend, right? A caring one. He can be charming…
And then I wonder what he’s like in bed and I blush so hard my co-worker asks if I’m okay. Honestly, I’m not sure.
That night, my head and heart and body form an alliance against me and I dream about him.
We are on his couch. My safe space. Comfortable, familiar. We’re having tea - ridiculous, because I never drink tea, only he does. Probably just my brain trying to keep it as wholesome as possible before everything tilts. Good dramatic effect, I have to admit.
Because suddenly I’m pulling his arm, dragging him down with me until we sink into the cushions like it is quicksand. Physically impossible, but in dreams, anything goes. He looks startled at first, then his face softens and suddenly we’re tangled, half on top of each other. Somehow I’m on his lap. Somehow, my hands are in his hair, tugging lightly and he closes his eyes like he’s savoring it.
His mouth twitches and I want to kiss it so badly, but the dream won’t let me. It’s like there’s a string pulling me close, but never close enough. I whimper in frustration and the sound makes his eyes snap open. What I see there wrecks me - frustration, yes, but also longing. Lust. I want him even more.
And then his hands are on me. Sliding up my sides, slipping lower, tracing my waist like he owns it. Unfair. He can touch me, but I can’t kiss him? His body is solid beneath mine, his cock hard against me, my own body aching wet for him. Please, just…
A noise cuts through. We both look up.
My mom is standing beside the couch.
His too, actually. Both unimpressed.
“So… just so you know… he actually isn’t Nobody’s Son. He is mine.”
Oh god, there is nothing as scary as pissed momma Kwon.
And then I wake up.
I try to compartmentalize the whole following day. File it under random dream nonsense. Doesn’t work.
Because I get more the next night…
One moment I’m falling asleep, the next I’m watching him across a golden-tinted room that feels surreal. Makes sense, it’s a dream after all. He’s leaning back in a chair that looks more like a throne, one hand curled over the backrest, legs spread in that careless sprawl he does when he forgets anyone is watching. Except that he knows my eyes are on him. His grin is sly, slow, the kind you want to slap off - or kiss until you can’t breathe.
This dream is nothing like the other. The other one at least started cozy. This is… fae-smut-romance territory. Because somehow… he has a crown and wings and I should stop reading that shit, clearly.
He stands and even that is unfairly elegant. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, the sharp line of his ass in black tight leather pants.
My throat goes dry. His grin sharpens into something dangerous. Half-promise, half-threat.
He doesn’t need to move closer, but of course he does. Each step is deliberate. Eyes locked on mine.
Then his hands are on me again - slim fingers skating over my sides, dragging across my ribs before sliding higher to cup my breast. Uhm, why am I naked? Unfair.
His thumb brushes my nipple and I gasp, embarrassingly needy. He laughs, low and delighted, then bends his head, lips pressing to my collarbone, tongue circling lower, slower.
I arch into him, already aching. His mouth lingers over the swell of my breast, teeth grazing, lips closing around my nipple until I moan. He knows. Of course, he knows. His palm drags lower, resting just above where I need him. Cruel. He kisses down over my ribs, my stomach, pausing to breathe hot against my skin until I clench around nothing while he kneels in front of me.
“Please” I whisper, though I don’t remember deciding to speak.
Instead of giving me what I want, he kisses the inside of my thigh. Wet, open-mouthed kisses that get closer, then retreat. His hand spreads my legs wider, thumb pressing just beside where I throb. He’s too good at this, every second orchestrated to make me ache harder.
I want his tongue, his fingers, his filthy voice. I can almost feel it, but the dream refuses. He stays maddeningly slow, teasing bites on my inner thigh.
I can’t take it. I push my hips up, chasing his mouth, but he only chuckles. Shakes his head. His tongue flicks once, fast, infuriating. I let out a sound that’s more growl than moan, but he just smiles, elegant and smug, as if he knows exactly how undone I am.
And then I wake. Sheets twisted around me, skin damp with sweat.
It feels like his mouth is still on me, his laugh still low in my ear. I don’t even think before my hand slides under the sheets, slipping between my thighs.
I’m soaked. My fingers glide over my clit too easily and I moan into the pillow, embarrassed even though I’m alone. My body doesn’t care. It rocks into my touch like it’s his, like he’s finally giving me what I begged for.
When the orgasm crashes through me, I’m left panting, heart racing, the dream dissolving, but his face still sharp in my mind.
That grin. That deliberate teasing. I press my palm to my face, half-laughing, half-mortified.
What the hell was that?
Except I know exactly what it was. I just got myself off thinking about my best friend.
--------------
So, there we are.
I kind of hate myself after I start wondering if I only like him because he suddenly gave me attention. Or maybe not so suddenly. I don’t know. Either way, it’s not a good reason to want someone, right?
But the next time we’re at a bar with friends, about three weeks after the incident, I look across the table at Ji and wonder how I didn’t see him before. Just like he said.
If I think about it… all those things he says I’m into - “pretty face, smooth lines, a little mystery” - he’s all of that. And I know he isn’t some innocent little angel; he messed up in the past. Sometimes badly, however, he left that behind him in recent years. But at the same time, he’s the guy who loves nothing more in the world than his cats and his parents and his friends. The one with a collection of cuddly blankets on the couch, who’ll watch a drama with you if you ask nicely, who remembers random details from things you told him ages ago and organizes amazing cakes and flowers for my birthday and…
…fuck.
Turns out Kwon Jiyong is fucking dreamy.
I realise it in the middle of this lively crowd. From one moment to the next, I know this isn’t a fluke.
I’ve loved him for the longest time.
But maybe I also… like… love love him.
Because right now I want to circle his name with a heart, just because he’s leaning over a napkin, sketching something no one else can see. Tongue sticking out a little as he concentrates. Around him, it’s drunk people, loud music, a whole dinner table. But he’s off in his own world. Only to snap out seconds later and rejoin the circle he built around us over the years, laughing, telling stories, cheeks flushed from the drinks and totally present. I love both those sides of him.
I don’t think he notices my stare, but then his head turns and his eyes find mine nevertheless. He looks surprised, like this is something he always does, but usually I’m not there glaring back.
I almost look away. But I don’t. We just keep staring and I can’t help but smile. He smiles too. My eyes flick toward the hallway and then I get up.
Waiting there, I start to get nervous. Maybe he didn’t understand. But then he appears, confusion written all over his face.
“You good?” he asks.
His cheeks are red, his eyes spacy. He’s drunk and so am I. Not the only reason this isn’t a good idea.
I nod. Don’t speak at first, just stare until he slows down, frowning a little.
“What?”
“Can I try something?”
He shrugs, then nods hesitantly.
And then I just kiss him.
Let me say this again. Not a good idea.
Maybe realising I like someone like him is, but throwing caution to the wind and just trying something with your best friend? Really not a good idea.
But it doesn’t matter.
No, screw that. It’s a great idea.
He tastes of soju and cigarettes. It doesn’t sound romantic, but in the moment, it’s perfect. Even before he reacts, his lips feel right on mine. I kiss into him, press him back against the wall. Ji freezes for a second, then jolts into action.
His arms wrap around me, not my waist exactly, more like a hug over my back. It feels like he’s holding on now that I’ve finally made it into his arms. And when he kisses me back - firm and determined and perfect - I lose my mind. Forget where I am. Forget who I am.
We stumble sideways into the wall, one of his palms now warm against my cheek, stroking my hair. His tongue gentle against mine.
It’s so good, it feels like I’ve been playing kissing on an easy level my whole level and now finally get to advance.
“How long…” he finally gets out between kisses “do you need to try before you have a verdict?”
I shut his mouth with mine and he chuckles into my lips.
I don’t know… Except for maybe that I don’t want to stop.
We move further away from the light, deeper into the hallway and eventually he does halt us. His hand on my back steadies me, the other one gently pushes me away. I growl. But try to stand on my feet without needing his support, looking up at him a little pouty. A little embarrassed, a little upset, a little horny.
“Not like this…” he finally gets out and there are so many things visible in his eyes that I get overwhelmed as well. Hunger, but also a little sadness.
“Like what?” I ask, breathless. My hands reach for him, wanting him back close.
“Like a drunk mistake.”
That halts me. Well, nah, don’t call me a mistake…
I guess he didn’t; he did the opposite. He sees me pouting more and I can tell he is having a hard time resisting not at least hugging me. Instead, he moves a hand across my hair, putting a couple of strands where they belong.
I let my shoulders slump.
Jiyong leans in, whispers an almost apologetic, somewhat soothing. “I’m gonna head home…” into my ear.
But instead of acknowledging that he is being good, I hold onto his shirt for a second. “Can I come?”
“Oh my god, you are the devil.” he says, laughing, creating distance between us again, but at the same time clearly enjoying that I am being that needy. “No, you can’t. But you can call me tomorrow when you are sober again, alright? No matter what the verdict of the trial was.”
He lets go and smiles and disappears. And I stand there for a second, then I go back to the table and decide to get absolutely shitfaced.
----------------------
The hangover the next morning feels like a movie one. I wake up disoriented with a headache from hell. Cry a little, moan a little, only leave the bed because I have to pee and drink at least two bottles of water. Feeling strangely accomplished because I even manage to brush my teeth and stand under the shower long enough to call it a shower, though just barely.
That is when I remember. The headache eases for a second, leaving room for the flash of Jiyong. Close and far away at the same time. At first, I thought it was another dream, but it wasn’t. That happened.
My heart rate spikes, my headache slams back into me and I crawl into my bathrobe, then into bed.
With every pounding throb behind my eyes, I squeeze them shut tighter. Oh god. What did I do? Regret floods me, but not entirely. The memory is too good. Still, I’m terrified. At some point, I remember him telling me to reach out, but I can’t bring myself to. It takes an eternity to grab my phone, battery almost dead, screen lit up with notifications.
No texts from him though. No calls. :///
Maybe he’s waiting for me to wake up. Maybe he wants to give me time to recover. Maybe… he changed his mind, maybe…
The doorbell rings. I think I might faint from how badly my head protests. Moving slowly, I shuffle to the door and then freeze, because it’s him.
I sigh, let him in and try to steady myself against the wall. When Jiyong steps into the frame, my heart does something weird, slowing and quickening at the same time. He just stares at me.
“Hey… I just wanted to see if you are… lucid?”
“Barely.” I groan, watching him close the door behind him. “I think I drank a lot after you left.”
“Yeah, you did.”
His hair is a mess, sticking out in all directions, clearly he is not what I would consider well rested and I can’t help but stare at him.
“How would you know?”
“The voice messages you left me were really hard to understand.”
“I did… no…”
Tears threaten immediately. Why do I always overdo everything?
“Did I really?”
He smiles, shoulders sinking deeper into his jacket as his hands slide into the pockets. “Nah, just kidding.”
“What? Don’t mess with me like that…”
“It was just the one.”
That’s all it takes. A couple of seconds later, I’m crying. My headache rages.
“Oh, hey, no…” he says, half laughing, half concerned and moves toward me, wrapping his arms around me. “I didn’t mean to… It’s fine. Don’t cry over this, okay? You were being kinda cute, actually. It was just obvious you had a bit too much, so I figured I’d check on you.”
I sink into him right away, hiding my face against his jacket. The light still hurts my eyes, but in his arms, I feel a bit better.
He smells good. He feels even better. Warm and real and steady.
“That bad?” His voice is right by my ear as he strokes my head.
I nod and sob a bit more. “Was I actually cute in the message?”
“Super cute.” His grin is audible.
“Did I tell you any secrets?”
He chuckles. “You want to listen to it?”
“Absolutely not. Just tell me what I said.”
“That you were walking home. That you really want to visit Spain at some point next year. And that I’m a very good kisser.”
Embarrassing, but not as bad as it could have been. I could have mentioned how dreamy he is. Or worse, the dreams. If I did, he’s keeping it to himself.
“Let’s get some hangover cure into you, hm?” he says eventually, swaying me gently. I nod.
A few minutes later, I’m back in bed, painkillers and herbal medicine downed. Ji stands over me like he pities me and I find myself enjoying the attention if I'm honest. I open my arms lazily, an unspoken plea for cuddles. He looks relieved, slides in beside me and holds my hand. Strokes my hair.
“You know…” I mutter after I have hidden my face a little. “You really are a good kisser.” It comes out soft, uncertain.
Ji grins. “I know.” The grin isn’t wicked, just full of quiet happiness. If I had the strength, I’d make sure he understood I wasn’t just drunk last night, but my thoughts move too slowly. For now, this is enough.
This and clinging to him. My hands bunching his shirt, my face buried in the crook of his neck. I’ve known him long enough, seen him with women. He loves that shit; he is a cuddler. Love boy.
And the best part is… so am I. Maybe it really should have been obvious all along. Maybe I’ve been blind.
“Go back to sleep, okay?” he says gently. I want to protest, but don’t. I doze off instead, drifting in and out. Whenever I jolt awake, he’s still there, smiling at me, one hand resting on me while the other scrolls his phone. He soothes me back to sleep every time.
When I wake up properly, it’s almost evening. My headache has calmed down. At some point, he must have pulled a blanket over us both.
“Feeling a bit better?” Ji asks and I pause as if checking. Then I nod. I do. Still tired, but not in pain. The painkillers must have helped but so did having him here. I just know it. And I’m not ready to let go, leaning into his side until he turns to face me, no longer on his back but on his side as well.
As cheesy as it sounds, looking at him now feels different. Things I always knew about him suddenly stand out sharper, brighter. He is so fucking beautiful.
My hand drifts up his chest without thinking, resting against his cheek. Stubble rough under my fingertips, skin warm, the faint smell of his cologne tangled with my detergent in the sheets. It’s good. Too good.
“Do you need to try something again?” he asks, smiling gently, his thumb stroking my arm. I nod.
Before I can second-guess myself, I lean in and press my lips to his. A peck, soft and careful, like testing the weight of something precious. He freezes, almost forgets to breathe, so I do it again - this time with the tiniest smile tugging at my mouth. It’s nothing like the messy, drunken kiss at the bar. This one feels deliberate. Sober. A choice.
He exhales slowly, eyes lingering on mine as if he needs a second to come back to himself. Then he brushes a strand of hair behind my ear and lets out a quiet laugh, almost to himself. He shifts upright. “You should sleep more. And I should head home.”
He’s probably right. I can tell he doesn’t want to leave and I don’t want him to. But it’s better that way and I do need the rest. Only…
“Without… without kissing me back?”
It comes out more desperate than I meant, but once the thought slips out, I can’t take it back.
His brow arches, amused. “What?”
“You… you’ve never…” I trail off, suddenly too awkward to finish. I pull the blanket higher, hiding in it, which is ridiculous because normally I never shut up. But right now, everything is too much.
A few seconds pass. Then he tugs gently at the blanket until I let go.
His grin could kill me. “Sorry, you’re right. I can’t go without kissing you back.” He cups my cheek and leans down, finally doing it.
Soft and careful, but insistent. He doesn’t stop, not until the moment stretches into forever. When he finally lets go, he sighs against my mouth.
“There’s food in the fridge. Eat later, okay?”
I mumble something that might be a yes, still lost in the kiss. I want to pull him back, make him stay, but my arms are heavy and he’s already done so much. He leaves and I don’t stay awake for long. Just long enough to realise that if this is a bad idea, it’s already too late. And somehow I don’t think it is.
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A couple of days later - ugh, busy guy, always busy - I’m standing in the elevator up to his place. Waiting to see him again has driven me half-crazy. Sure, we texted and it was… cute. But not enough. I may not have waited as long as he has, but he’s clearly better at it than I am. Because when he opens the door, my coat is already undone and underneath I’m wearing nothing but a black underwear set.
Ji was about to pull me into a hug, but then stops. Then he bursts out laughing. Hard.
My brows knit immediately, because hello, this is supposed to be curves-curves-curves, not comedy hour. I push inside quickly, the door shutting behind me.
He’s still laughing, hand over his face.
“What the hell - you can’t - stop, you -” He can’t even finish through his laughter. My ego stings, so I toss my purse down, kick my shoes off and stalk past him.
“No, oh god, noooo. You look amazing.” he gets out between laughs, following me. He tries to slide an arm around me. I resist, then give in with a pout.
“It’s just… you surprised me, okay? I need a second to catch up. Oh my fucking god, you look so good. I can’t believe I—”
His eyes roam down my body and at least that soothes the sting. “
“Missed me THAT much?” he finally teases, cocky as ever.
I did miss him that much. But I wanted him flustered, not smug. Then again, this is Jiyong. Of course, he’s teasing.
Doesn’t mean he won’t crack eventually. He can do both. He is both.
“And here I thought we needed to have a serious talk.” he says.
“We can talk instead, if that’s what you prefer.” I shoot back, shrugging.
His grin only widens. He closes the distance, fingers gliding across my hips, pulling me in. Goosebumps rise instantly. His hands shake though and that makes my pout soften.
“If it helps…” he murmurs “I missed YOU a lot.” Then he kisses me like he means it. No hesitation, no awkwardness - like this is what we should’ve been doing all along. My arms wind around his neck and for the first time, it feels less like crossing a line and more like finally stepping onto the right side of it.
I drop the coat and go full drama. He stumbles a little, wordless, like he’s trying to put thoughts into sentences and they keep slipping away. I grin because I can see him unravel.
“Well, shit” he finally murmurs, looking up at my face. “Fucking finally.” He kisses me hard, then pulls back to grin. “Have you met my bed? You should. You two would get along.”
I laugh and let him herd me toward his bedroom. By the time we reach the bed, it’s chaos. Hands everywhere, his clothes half-removed, his laughter hot against my neck. The mattress swallows me and he’s on top of me. It’s not careful, not sweet. It’s everything that’s been waiting. He takes my lower lip between his teeth, groans when I arch up and grind. I can feel how much he wants this and it makes my head spin.
His hand slips between my legs and for a second, I can’t believe it’s real. It is real. It feels impossibly good. And the smug grin reappears when he realizes how damp my panties got simply from the thought of all this happening. Hands fumble my bra open, the little dimple appears when he smiles in the corner of his mouth because he has an idea… and then he pushes me onto my stomach, palm pressing into the small of my back. The change in position makes me gasp. I glance at the white sheets in front of me, wide-eyed and surprised, his fingers back between my legs, rubbing me until thighs shake.
His lips are at my ear. “I know you. I know how you like it.”
My eyes go even wider. Oh, good god. He does.
We’ve teased, we’ve joked, we’ve overheard each other’s stupid secrets for years. He knows the corners of me. He knows the way to make me melt and apparently even my favourite position. He moves my arms to lie beside my head, firm but careful, like he’s settling me in. Then he pulls my panties down, slides between my legs and I feel his cock press against my thighs.
“Shit, Ji… I…” The words fall out of me, jagged and useless.
“If you don’t want it, say it. That’s fine.” he murmurs, one hand gliding between the sheets and my stomach, then up to cup my breast, thumb circling my nipple. His touch is patient for a beat, then intent.
“No. I want it. I want it so bad.” I try to tilt my pelvis and meet him, but he pushes me back down with a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest. He reaches for the bedside table and its contents.
When he pushes in, it’s deep, right away, an angle that steals my breath and punches the world to white noise but slow at the same time. My cheek presses into the sheets. I clamp one hand around a pillow as he finds a slow, hungry rhythm. God. He was right. I do love this. The angle, his weight, the fact that it’s him - it scrambles me.
Each thrust drags over every place that makes me clench. His hand fists at my hip, the other slides up my spine in lazy, claiming strokes. He leans close enough that his breath hitches across the back of my neck. “Good?”
I answer him with a sound, a needy, raw moan. My hips tilt back without thinking, chasing him. He groans louder and drives harder until the bed creaks. The friction builds until I’m tight and trembling and soaked.
Then I turn my weapon on him. I know him as well. I know what makes him lose it. He is into good old fashioned blowjobs. And maybe a bit of risky semi-public hand stuff. But he fucking loves a dirty mouth.
“You’re so good at this.” I gasp, breath shaking. “You’re fucking me so well.”
He stutters, hips stalling for the briefest second. “Don’t-” he breathes.
I keep going, breathy and taunting. “God, you knew exactly how badly I needed it, right?”
He growls now, the sound equal parts laughter and hunger. “You little shit.” he says, realising what I am doing, then thrusts harder.
I smirk into the sheets. “What’s wrong, can’t take a little praise?” The last word ends in a moan because he is so deep inside of me and one of his hands grasps my wrist.
“Fuck you” he mutters, laughing now, though he doesn’t stop moving.
“You are” I shoot back, breathless and grinning, turning my head as far back as I can.
And that’s it - we both crack. Actual laughter, bubbling up between us, ridiculous and hot and so us. He’s still inside me, still moving, but the giggles shake through our bodies until finally he stills, forehead pressed to my back as he catches his breath. Why are we doing this? Just because we know each other so well doesn’t mean we HAVE to skip that slow close first time?
“I want to see you.” I manage, voice thick. I turn my head and he slides out, then rolls me over, easing me onto my back with the kind of slow care that makes my knees weak. He moves above me, hair falling into his face, eyes dark and searching. “Better?” he asks with that crooked grin, one hand on each side of my head. I nod and gently touch his face. He leans into the touch for a second.
So much better. Ji kisses me, mouth urgent and soft at once. When he pushes in this time, it’s even slower, more deliberate, a rhythm that makes everything feel like it’s aligning. Our mouths find one another between thrusts, messy and hungry. His hands cup my face, my nails drag his back until he groans. He traces lazy circles with his tongue across my chest and every noise I make summons a low groan from him.
It’s imperfect at times. Knees bump. We laugh into moans. His hair tickles my neck. It’s messy. It’s real. It’s gorgeous.
When I come undone, it is less fireworks and more of a long, building wave. It hangs between us, warm and endless and somehow more satisfying because it is not sharp and quick. I shake beneath him. He collapses over me, breath hot against my collarbone, kissing the hollow under my ear.
My eyes open. He’s looking at me with that soft intensity that makes me feel cradled. Ji presses a thumb against my temple, tracing slow, lazy lines. I have never felt so seen. I think he loves me.
Panic bubbles up in me, old habits twitching, doubts spitting their rehearsed lines. What if this burns out? What if he leaves? My chest tightens.
He reads it in my face, then shifts, easing out and pulls me into a sideways hug.
“Don’t… don’t get over me now that you have me, okay?” The words come without plan. I wasn’t even aware of that fear myself, but now that I can see how fucking happy I could be with him, the thought of losing that again is terrifying. Not sure if this is the moment I would like to do this… I wanted to bask in afterglow…
Jiyong looks surprised, his eyebrows move around in all sorts of emotions. “Are you really worried about that?” I shrug a little and then nod. Because… yo, even I think I am annoying. Fun as well. Even funny sometimes. But fucking annoying!
“I can’t… I can’t be too much this time. Not with you.” I murmur, scenes flooding my brain of exes telling me different versions of the same story, so I close my eyes again. Ji looks at me for a second. Then he uses his arms to push up, detangling our bodies. Only to then lean farer over me so I have to look at him.
“Okay. I need you to really hear this, yeah? You are… dramatic as fuck. You are so loud and… sometimes crazy annoying, I am not gonna lie.” I pout. Great. “But that is my favourite thing about you. And you are my favourite person. So basically it is what I like best ever… ever ever.” My face is hesitant, so he keeps going. “You’re a fucking weirdo. Why do you always have to drink so much when you know you can’t handle it. And why… why have you kept on dating these idiots? Why the hell did you buy that vacuum cleaner? Like… I am serious. That was so weird. None of that makes sense, but I love it… You have… passion for everything you do and I could never ever think you are too much. You showed up in underwear and a coat? That was so cool and random? And we just had like… fantastic sex, but also laughed during that? I… love… everything about you…” His face is so close to mine, Ji is pressing his lips gently against the corner of my mouth. “I have loved everything about you for years, so please don’t ever be scared of that. Not with me. You were looking for the one? The person who will be the last? Fucking hell, let it be me…”
My mouth twitches. I want to believe him with my whole body. The old scripts about being left whisper like ghosts. I push them down because he would not say this if he did not mean it. I know his coffee order, his kinks, his offbeat habits. And that he would not lie about this.
“Okay” I manage at last, a small sound that feels huge.
He laughs, delighted. “Okay? That’s it? I finally made you speechless?”
I nod and trace his cheek with my finger. “Thanks for waiting for me.”
He squeezes me close. “It’s fine. You’ll be in love with me in no time, I am just giving you time to catch up.” He winks, cockily sure, moving in for another kiss.
Maybe he’s joking to lighten the mood. But I think I won’t need very long.
Actually… I am probably already there.
<3
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Weeeeee, how are we feeling?
Other writers in the challenge, check them out: @gdinthehouseee @slut4kwon @moonqz @gds-daisy @wcnderlnds @igorluvr @gggtabi @seungsjo @steponupbabe <3
Jiyong was tired— actually, he was exhausted. The screams and cheers from fans, the blaring music that just made every limb and muscle in his body move like it had a mind of its own, the shining lights that never dimmed, and the cameras that pointed at him every second. He loved it, he really does, but sometimes it just gets so overwhelming that he wants to rest and take a break.
As the hotel doors opened and the elevator took him to his floor, he was getting impatient. His body is buzzing with excitement to see you. Because, despite all the fuss and excitement that had happened throughout the day, he was finally coming home. To you.
"Jagi?" His voice called out, raw and rough from all the talking and singing. He threw his bag down and searched for you when you didn't respond. He finally released a sigh of relief when he saw you lying on your shared hotel bed with the blanket completely wrapped around you, shielding you from the cold.
Without a moment to waste, Jiyong strided towards the bed and lay down, not even caring to take his outside clothes off or even take a shower. He knew you would get mad and scold him, but right now, he didn't care. He just wanted to be near you, to feel that comforting warmth that only you give off.
You stirred but didn't wake when he got under the sheets. It wasn't till he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close did you woke up.
"Ji", you spoke sleepily, nuzzling your face into his chest even more like it's second nature. "I'm here, Jagi," Jiyong whispered, scared to make a noise too loud. "You're home," you commented on the obvious. "I miss you," you added, lifting your head lightly to look up at him. Jiyong chuckled as he stared at your eyes, evident with sleep.
He hoped you didn't catch the way his breathing faltered and the way his heart loudly slams into his ribcage; he fears it'll break them.
"Missed you," He whispered, eyes focused on your sleepy ones. You hummed and placed a kiss on his chin and answered back, "I missed you more." You looked up at him with a sleepy smile, and Jiyong swore he fell in love with you all over again.
It wasn't just about how adorable you looked with puffy eyes and messy hair or even how you nuzzled into him, resembling a cat. No, it was the way you felt like home. A place where the noise and chaos from outside couldn't reach.
a.c: Wowowowoow this is so short HAHHAHA this will do for now while I finish my exams. Expect longer ones soon, though! I just badly needed to write this eeekkkk. I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT. REQUESTS ARE OPEN BTW!
description : Soft mornings with Jiyong. - featuring zoa and iye.
Requested by anon! thank you so much - and sorry for the wait🤍
Ji’s birthday is in four days🥹
Morning drowns into your shared bedroom, sheets messy on the bed, alarms absent on the bedside table, switched off completely to avoid any annoying wake up calls.
It’s a gentle intrusion, the soft sunlight, the warm sheets, twisted and bunched at the bottom of the bed.
Jiyong was half asleep, mainly just refusing to wake up yet, body still sprawled out on the bed lazily.
His one arm was over your waist, the other resting above both of your heads, fingertips grazing your hair.
Your leg was over both of his, thigh covering his hip, and your arms were buried under the sheets as if you were cold. But the tint on your cheeks suggested otherwise.
You on one hand was completely devoured by sleep, face relaxed, some stray hair slightly covering your face.
Jiyong was adorned by his want to stay in bed with you all day, eyes closing shut again as he gained more consciousness.
He leant over sleepily, burying his face in your hair, nose burying in the soft silky strands.
Jiyong peppered small, tired kisses to the crown of your head, the sheets barely covering him, but they were completely devouring you.
You didn’t shift. You remained asleep, not even a twitch coming from you. He had the faintest grin on his face as he watched you rest, his arm wrapping tighter around your waist.
Your breathing was completely evened out, and your silk pyjamas that Jiyong got you not too long ago, were a bit scrunched up on your body from over the night.
The light in the room was dimmed by the curtains, thankfully cause Jiyong didn’t think he could survive the brightness of the outside world right now.
This was the moments he secretly loved the most. His thumb tracing small patterns over your waist instinctively, sleepily drowning in the cushions, your warmth and your hair sprawled out softly.
He loved waking up next to you. In your most vulnerable, natural state, even though ninety nine percent of the time he woke up before you.
And be cherished the way you always managed to keep curled up to him in some way despite you both moving a lot in the night.
Whether it was your hand intertwined up loosely in his own. Or your face buried on his stomach, halfway down the bed somehow.
Soft paws treaded into the room like they paid rent, and in came Zoa, already hungry for food.
Jiyong smiled at the sight of his other girl who’s spaced out eyes glared at him. He wasn’t sure whether she wanted food or for him to get away, considering the fact she had already made herself comfy on your chest, tiny paws in front of her.
You won over her and Iye the moment that you walked into their life. Jiyong earned you that they weren’t the most affectionate with people there ere unfamiliar with.
He looked like a big fat liar when not even thirty minutes later of you being at his place for the first time, Iye was curled in the curve of your neck on the pillow, and Zoa was buried into your side on her back.
Jiyong scratched behind the cats ear affectionately, before dropping his hand discarded over your stomach.
When Zoa forced her head under your chin your stirred slightly, half waking up with a small groan of tiredness.
Jiyong laughed under his breath as Iye came marching in not a moment later, looking like she was already demanding food and worship.
You half opened your eyes as Jiyong kissed your temple to wake you up properly. It barely worked.
Zoa and Iye made themself at home between and on the both of you, as you turned your head slightly to face Ji who was already looking at you gently, hand stroking Iye.
He moved slightly, readjusting himself so his arm went around you, bringing you to his chest, the four of you making a little huddle in the left side of the bed.
Jiyongs side of the bed that was always infiltrated by the other three of you. And he would pretend to care.
“Good morning” he drawled out, voice barely above a whisper, his deep morning voice jolting you more awake.
You smiled faintly, closing your eyes again, cheek buried into his shirt, your nose by Iye’s paw.
He didn’t need a reply. Not that you were gonna give him one with the way your eyelids fluttered shoot once more, ghost of a smile on your lips, not even bothering to brush the hair out your face.
But he did that for you anyway. Unspoken, just a small attention to detail he knew you hated.
“Do you wanna eat?” He asked you quietly, soft, minute stubble brushing the crown of your head prettily.
You waited a beat, pouted your lips slightly in consideration before turning your head up to him, seeing the way he always looked in a morning. Natural, comforting.
“Not yet, I don’t wanna get up” Your voice was slightly raspy from sleep, something he loved to hear your tired voice just moments out of unconsciousness.
He grinned, brushing yet another stray hair from your face before playing with the strands again, scratching at your scalp lightly as if you were one of the cats that were falling asleep again on you with a light weight to them.
“You don’t have to get up jagi, I’ll do it” He assured, ever the gentleman. His eyes trailed over your soft, morning glistened features, the way your eyes looked heavy with tiredness.
You shook your head no, well as much a d you could in this position before finishing, “I mean I don’t want either of us to get out of bed yet”
Jiyong huffed a small laugh, kissing the tip of your nose with a genuine caring nature that you fell in love with.
“Okay baby” He drawled, hand that was previously playing with your messy bed hair now hovering loosely around your neck, fingertips on your collarbone, tracing small, comforting circles.
You nodded in approval to his words, before your own hand brushed a hair out of his face, “Your hair needs cutting” You commented lightly, an observation he knew you would always nag at him for.
But he also knew you loved every era of his hair. Every colour and cut made you smile when he would walk through the door them days.
“Good eye” He would playfully say, hint of a grin still present on his features. You smiled back at his words, before dropping your hand to his chest.
That’s how it was for at least thirty minutes. Savouring the moments before the day poured in, even though neither of you had plans today - for once.
Entangled in each other, the odd, small paw trampling on you both from over the sheets.
That was before Iye and Zoa practically demanded food, meowing on your laps, one after the other before the two of you and to force yourself to get up.
You stretched slightly as Jiyong sat up, picking up Zoa, beginning to wipe her eyes carefully.
A morning shower woke you up, and the sight of Jiyong showing up outside the bathroom door fifteen minutes later, peeking his head in with some comfy clothes and a cup of coffee for you. That melted your heart.
He took his own shower as you then made breakfast, both for you and Jiyong, and the four paws that clawed at your sweatpants greedily.
Once you two had ate, or more like Jiyong stealing half your breakfast, you found yourself in the bathroom again, Jiyong’s forehead pressed into your shoulder as you two brush your teeth.
He’s acting like he’s already drained from the bare minimum of waking up, by the way his hand is lazily around your waist, more grounding himself then you.
You did his skincare once you finished, which he seemed to enjoy awhile lot. What he wasn’t the biggest fan of however was the headband you forced on him, saying it would stop the products getting in his hair. It still got in his hair.
“Are you sure this is the right order jagi?” He slightly nervously spoke. After years of makeup stylists doing skin prep on him he knew a thing or two.
He even found himself doing your skincare on nights you would fall asleep on the couch after work.
“Yes Ji, I know what i’m doing” You reassured, mixing the product into his skin gently. When your hand ghosted near his lips he placed a small kiss to your palm before immediately grimacing.
“You’re so stupid” You giggle at the sight of him now tasting the product. Jiyong grinned weakly, wiping some of the product off his face and onto your nose.
You blinked up at him, and he hugged a small laugh wiping it off before you came back for revenge.
“I don’t wanna do anything today” He half whined, as if you were holding him against his will.
Smiling, you finished his skincare, taking the band off his head, to which his hair practically folded itself into place where the headband was.
“Trust me, I don’t wanna do anything either, that’s why we’re staying here. But why is your hair so damaged?” You laughed.
He didn’t even glance at himself int he mirror, instead opting to drop his cheek onto the top of your head, arms limp at his side, “You know exactly why”
You wrapped your arms around his shoulders loosely as he pulled back, arms going to your hips to pick you up and carry you back to the bed.
You giggled as he dropped you carefully on the bed, crawling over you just to tiredly flop himself on top of you. His eyes glistened as he looked up at you, his weight completely on you, and he didn’t care. He was comfortable.
“Comfy?” You ask rhetorically, to which he nodded against your chest, his hair tickling your chin.
Summary | You and Ji-yong have been dating for the past two weeks. And you had never been on a date until now.
Pairing | post-debut!ji-yong x fem!reader.
Genre | 2000s school era.
Warnings | Fluff, romantic.
Author's note | English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any spelling mistakes.
You were a bundle of nerves. It was your first date with your first boyfriend, and even though things were just starting, deep down you hoped—with the innocent hope of someone who dreams quietly—that it would last forever. Your heart was pounding as you rummaged through your closet, unable to find anything that felt perfect. Nothing felt enough like you, yet you didn’t want to clash too much with Ji-yong either.
Your styles were from completely different worlds. He had that streetwear vibe—oversized clothes, tilted caps, chains. You, on the other hand, radiated a Y2K aesthetic full of colors, sparkles, and that nostalgic early-2000s flair. You were polar opposites, but that didn’t stop you.
With a long, resigned sigh, you threw on the first thing that caught your eye: a denim mini skirt with a pink leopard-print belt, matched with a top in the same pattern that slightly revealed the black lace of your bra. Over that, a denim jacket to balance things out. You finished the outfit with pastel pink kitten heels and a mini bag that looked like it was made from the same fabric as your top. Bold, flirty, and unmistakably you.
You did your makeup quickly but carefully—soft eyeliner, glossy lips, and a bit of blush that highlighted your hopeful expression. After one last glance in the mirror, you headed out to your date.
It didn’t take long to spot him. Ji-yong stood out even among the bustling crowd in downtown Seoul. But what really caught your attention wasn’t him—it was the scene around him: several girls your age clustered near, asking for autographs and, of course, taking their chance to flirt shamelessly.
You frowned, unable to hide your jealousy. With a dramatic flair, you pulled out your leopard-framed sunglasses and slid them on with all the attitude of a diva. You walked toward him confidently, like the whole world was your runway. You knew this came with his recent debut in the K-pop group—photos, fans, attention... but it still got to you. Not because you didn’t trust him, but because of the way those girls approached him with fake smiles and eyes full of intentions.
“Ji-ji!” you called out playfully, a radiant smile lighting up your face—the one you knew he loved.
He turned around instantly at the sound of your voice, as if his ears were trained to recognize it. He quickly apologized to the fans and made his way over to you, fast, like just seeing you grounded him again.
The girls’ gazes shifted instantly—from dreamy admiration to pure jealousy. You smiled in triumph, wrapped your arms around his neck, and kissed him without hesitation. It wasn’t just affection—it was a subtle claim. The eyes behind you burned.
“Wow, what was that?” he chuckled nervously, still surprised.
“What?” you feigned innocence, taking your sunglasses off with elegance. “I can’t kiss my boyfriend? Or is it that you don’t want them to know you have a girlfriend... or worse, that it’s me?”
You pulled away dramatically, crossing your arms like you were in the middle of a soap opera. Ji-yong rolled his eyes fondly and stepped in, grabbing you by the waist.
“Oh, come on. You know that’s not it. You just caught me off guard, baby.”
And before you could reply, he kissed you back. This time, deeper, more sincere.
Your cheeks flushed instantly. You peeked with one eye and saw the fans walking off, clearly annoyed. You smiled mid-kiss, satisfied.
“Knew it... you got jealous, didn’t you?” he teased as he pulled away, that playful glint in his eyes.
“Of course I did. Just because you’re famous now doesn’t mean you’re single to the rest of the world,” you replied, gently pinching his cheeks.
He looked at you like you were the cutest thing he’d ever seen and planted a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. Your heart skipped a beat, and you blushed again.
“Come on, baby. Let’s make this date unforgettable.” he said, lacing his fingers with yours.
You’d arranged to meet in the heart of Seoul, where Saturday mornings filled the streets with food stalls, clothes, accessories, and that vibrant city energy only Seoul could give. The whole day was yours.
“Oh, look, Y/n!” Ji-yong called.
You were busy looking at some jewelry at a cute little stall, but turned around when he called you. He was holding an adorable plush toy—a mix between a chick and a bunny. Its little body was yellow, with long floppy bunny ears, an orange beak, and stubby legs. It was ridiculously cute.
“It’s so cute!” you squealed, hands flailing with excitement. You snatched the plushie from his hands with a giggle and hugged it tightly like it was a treasure.
Ji-yong couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were smiling in a way that left him speechless. Your blonde hair danced in the breeze, your lips curved sweetly, and your laughter was music to him.
“It’s for you,” he said suddenly.
You stopped. Blinked.
“What?”
“I’m giving it to you,” he repeated calmly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“B-but, Ji-ji…” you stammered. You didn’t want him spending money on you. Not out of pride, but because you didn’t want to feel like you owed him anything.
As if reading your thoughts, he shook his head and gently brushed your cheek with the back of his hand.
“You don’t have to give me anything back. Your smile is worth more than any plush toy in the world.”
Your cheeks turned bright red—you looked like you might burst from the embarrassment. Like a little tomato about to explode. Ji-yong loved it. He smiled, utterly smitten by you. Every minute with you made him fall harder.
You had no choice but to accept the gift, even if you pretended to be reluctant. But inside, you were overjoyed. And even though you tried to act casual, you couldn’t help but pet the plush with affection. It was Ji-yong’s first gift to you, and you’d treasure it forever.
“How about we get some ice cream? Then we can keep walking through the stalls,” he suggested, gently intertwining his left hand with yours, while holding the plush in the other.
“Yes!” you beamed, hugging his arm. “I need something cold with this heat!”
“Are you sure you’re hot?” he teased with a raised brow and a smirk. “Don’t get me wrong, you look amazing in that mini skirt, but if I were you, I’d be a little cold…”
“I can handle a few more degrees than you, babe. Don’t worry about me.” You winked at him, amused. “You’re the one who looks all tired and sweaty. You’re worse than me… though still very cute.”
Ji-yong chuckled under his breath, guiding you toward a nearby ice cream shop.
You didn’t have to walk far. The shop was right next to the Cheonggyecheon River, which gave you the perfect excuse for a stroll afterward, hand-in-hand with your ice cream and each other.
“What flavor do you want, gorgeous?” he asked, giving you one of those smiles that melted you faster than the summer sun.
“Hmm… vanilla and strawberry,” you answered without much thought.
“One vanilla-strawberry and one green tea, please,” Ji-yong told the vendor, never letting go of your hand.
Minutes later, you both had your ice creams. Ji-yong reluctantly let go of your hand to hold his, but that didn’t stop you—still hugging the plush against your side, you reached for his free hand and intertwined your fingers again. Like letting go completely wasn’t an option.
You walked together in a comfortable silence until you reached the river. The sound of flowing water and the soft breeze created the perfect atmosphere. It felt like Seoul had paused just for the two of you.
You sat by the edge, close enough for the current to almost touch your shoes. The ground was cool, the sun gentle, and everything moved at a slow, peaceful rhythm, like the world was giving you space to just be.
Without a word, you rested your head on Ji-yong’s shoulder, letting out a soft sigh—the kind that doesn’t weigh you down, but lifts you up. As you savored your favorite flavor, you felt his body relax beside you, his fingers gently caressing the back of your hand with quiet affection.
Time passed slowly—but perfectly.
“I wish this would never end…” he whispered suddenly, his voice barely a breath, as if afraid to shatter the magic of the moment.
Your heart skipped. You didn’t need to think.
“Me too…” you whispered back, pure honesty in your voice.
You looked up and found him already watching you. His eyes sparkled—not from the city lights reflected in the water, but from something deeper: emotion, affection, a quiet happiness that felt real.
You both smiled—and in that smile was everything. The budding love, the growing connection, the promise of an “us” that was just beginning but already felt special.
There, by the riverside, between the murmur of the water and the sweetness of your ice cream, your first date became an unforgettable memory.
