my messy kpop writing sideblog where i maybe sometimes write? mostly enhypen || reblog sideblog: @zimzalahihighboom || main i never post on: lovable-squidbrain
🍒 【ACADEMICS】 thank goodness your old tutor cancelled ｡ ｡ ｡ ◞ 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊
tutor to bf ! y.jw x 𝑓 ! reader ◜ᵕ◝ 𝟭𝟬𝟯𝟬 ≧ᗜ≦ crack fluff kissing
TUTOR!JUNGWON
who wasn’t even supposed to be your tutor. someone else cancelled last minute, and the program just assigned him to you because “he’s responsible and patient.” patient, yes—but no one mentioned he’d also be that pretty up close. soft brown hair falling over his forehead, voice smooth and quiet when he said, “alright, let’s start from what you don’t get.” you almost forgot what the topic even was. you just needed to pass calculus, not get distracted by the way his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
TUTOR!JUNGWON
who quickly realized he was in trouble the moment you started showing up to sessions with messy hair and sleepy eyes, rambling about how you “totally studied last night” even though he could see your highlighter was completely unused. he’d just chuckle under his breath, tilt his head, and say,
“okay, then tell me the difference between covalent and ionic bonds.”
“...one of them is cooler?”
he tried so hard not to laugh. emphasis on tried.
TUTOR!JUNGWON
who wasn’t exactly strict—just quietly confident. never raised his voice, never scolded you, just had this way of looking at you until you mumbled an apology and actually tried. but every time you messed up and sighed dramatically, he’d chuckle softly and murmur, “it’s okay. we’ll go over it again.” his tone was always calm. too calm. like he didn’t realize how gentle and warm it sounded when he said we.
TUTOR!JUNGWON
who makes studying feel weirdly easy. maybe it’s his voice—soft, low, just a little teasing—or the way he smells faintly of citrus and clean laundry. you catch yourself zoning out, staring at his hands as he flips through pages, his rings glinting under the light. “you’re not listening again,” he says, tilting his head.
“i am!”
he raises a brow, fighting a smirk. “then tell me what i just said.”
...you couldn't
and that smile of his? so damn smug.
TUTOR!JUNGWON
who pretends not to mind when you start doodling on his notes—tiny hearts, random phrases—but secretly keeps the page after you leave. later, when he’s alone, he finds himself tracing over your messy handwriting with a small, helpless smile.
TUTOR!JUNGWON
who doesn’t even realize how much he touches you now—hand at your back when you’re leaning over your notes, a light brush of his fingers over yours when he takes your pencil, tucking your hair behind your ear when it falls in your face. it’s all casual. at least, that’s what he tells himself. but when you look up at him with those eyes, lips parted just slightly, he swallows hard and forces himself to look back at the page. “focus,” he mutters, voice lower than before.
yeah. right.
TUTOR!JUNGWON
who laughs quietly when you get frustrated, the sound warm and boyish. “you’re cute when you’re mad,” he says before realizing what he just said. you blink. he freezes. then he coughs, “uh— i meant mute...” sure, buddy...
TUTOR!JUNGWON
who texts you before your sessions now, little reminders like “don’t skip lunch before i get there” or “bring a hoodie, the library’s freezing.” he insists it’s just to make sure you focus better, but the way his messages always end with a soft “see you soon :)” says otherwise.
TUTOR!JUNGWON
who starts walking you home after every study session. “it’s late,” he says, as if that's reasonable enough. sometimes the walk is filled with quiet chatter, sometimes just soft silence and the sound of your shoes brushing the pavement. and when he finally says goodnight, his voice always drops a little lower, like he’s holding something back.
TUTOR!JUNGWON
who finally breaks that quiet, careful wall between you two one night. you’re both too tired, laughing at some dumb mistake, and your faces end up way too close. his laughter fades first. his gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips and back again. there’s a beat of silence—your heart’s racing—and then he whispers, “we should… probably stop here.” but he doesn’t move. neither do you. and the next second, he’s kissing you like he’s been waiting for it since the first lesson.
TUTOR!JUNGWON
who, after that first kiss, immediately spirals the moment he gets home. you’re barely done saying goodnight before your phone buzzes with a paragraph-long message that starts with: “I want to sincerely apologize for my unprofessional conduct this evening.” and then continues for six more sentences filled with words like “inappropriate,” “breach of academic boundaries,” and “deeply regretful lapse in judgment.”
you have to reread it twice because—was this the same guy who literally kissed you breathless fifteen minutes ago??
you reply with a simple: “jungwon. it's literally chill, let's hang out tomorrow okay?” his response comes thirty seconds later: “oh. right. i apologize again, i won't cross any boundaries tomorrow, that i can assure you. i think.” you can hear the flustered panic through the screen.
TUTOR!JUNGWON
who shows up to your next “study session” red-eared and nervous, clutching his notebook like a lifeline. he tries to act normal, starts explaining derivatives with a trembling voice until you reach over and touch his hand. “you’re still thinking about that text, aren’t you?”
he blinks, stammers, “i just— it was a severe breach of tutor-student dynamics and—”
“jungwon.” “—and possibly unethical in a professional context—”
“jungwon.” you lean in, smiling. “we’re basically dating now. you can relax.” he almost loses it
TUTOR!JUNGWON
who still insists on making you study even after you’ve started dating. “just because we’re together doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” he says, flipping through the textbook. but five minutes later, you’re both tangled on the couch, his notes forgotten on the floor.
TUTOR!JUNGWON
who even weeks later still brings his notebook every time he comes over, but the tutoring part always ends up lasting five minutes tops. the rest of the night? spent leaning into each other, laughing, anything but studying and when you tease him, “so, does this mean i passed?”—he chuckles, pulling you closer until his breath warms your cheek. “not yet,” he murmurs. “still have a few lessons left to teach you.”
happy birthday my gfie yin @wonsoire ur one year away from paying ur own rent 🥹 im still KIND OF mad over the msa thingy but i'll let it slide because it's ur day and i'd kms if i even dared to be mad at u on ur day. i love u so so much sweet girl
a/n: the text formats are off because my app is bugging >< HAPPY JAKE DAY!! tysm for all the concern and messages recently ^^ I really appreciate the support! I’m mostly sorted out now it was all chaotic but I’ll be getting back to posting regularly!! :) as usual all interactions are appreciated and I love communicating with you all <3
enha taglist (comment to be added): @parkjjongswifey @run2seob @mazeinthemoon @amatariki @withthe-ie
synopsis: having spent all year admiring you from afar, Sunghoon finally takes his chances to try and get you under the mistletoe.
notes: this is ari’s christmas present hehe — ENHA MASTERLIST
Sunghoon had enough of you.
He’s been staring at your beautiful face all year, thinking about combing your silky hair, and kissing your plump lips.
But wanting you and having you were two very different things and he was starting to lose his mind over the difference between them.
“Maybe you should just move on,” Jay told him when he learned about Sunghoon’s crush, “she’s out of your league.”
Which was true, painfully, humiliatingly true.
Sunghoon had laughed it off when Jay said it, tossing a half-hearted eye roll and pretending it didn’t sting. But it did. It stung so deep it throbbed. Because Jay wasn’t being mean, he was being honest. And Sunghoon knew it.
You were the kind of girl people didn’t just like, they admired you from across the room. You lit up every hallway you walked through, every class, every practice. People remembered the sound of your laugh, the warmth of your smile, the way you treated everyone with effortless kindness.
Sunghoon was the guy everyone respected but didn’t look at twice. Handsome, yes. Talented, yes. But quiet, a little cold, hard to read. The kind of guy who watched from the sidelines and convinced himself he was fine with that.
Except he wasn’t fine. Not anymore, not since you.
So Jay’s comment sat inside him like a stone, heavy and sour. And every time Sunghoon saw you, tucking your hair behind your ear, biting your lip when you were focused, hugging your friends like you meant it, he felt the stone grow heavier.
Out of his league, unreachable and untouchable.
Yet here he was, reaching anyway, even if it burned.
He noticed the way you looked at people when you liked them. It was soft, warm, full of a kind of affection he ached for. He wanted even half of that aimed at him. Just a second of your attention. Your smile. Your voice saying his name like it mattered.
But he only got scraps; tiny glances, accidental brushes past each other, polite “hi”s that felt like daggers because he wanted so much more.
And wanting something you know you can’t have? That was torture.
So when Jay told him to move on, Sunghoon nodded like he would. But that night, lying awake, staring at the ceiling with your name echoing in his skull, he knew he was lying to himself.
Until one faithful day he heard you talking to Manon.
“You’re coming to Sunoo’s Christmas party?” She asked you, tucking a strand of her curly hair behind her ear.
You nodded eagerly, that smile he likes so much taking over your features, “of course I am, he has the best ones.”
Sunoo threw parties for everything: from Halloween to midterms to Veterans Day, so the fact that his Christmas party was your favorite meant something. It meant you’d actually show up. It meant you’d be there, in a room Sunghoon also planned to walk into, wearing something soft and festive and warm, laughing with your friends under fairy lights.
And for the first time in weeks, that heavy stone in Sunghoon’s chest shifted.
Manon leaned closer to you. “Are you dressing cute?” she teased, nudging your arm. “Because if you show up in that red sweater you wore last year? You’re going to kill every guy in that house.”
You laughed (God, that laugh) and rolled your eyes. “I’m not dressing for anyone. It’s just a party.”
Sunghoon almost snorted from where he stood half-hidden behind the library shelf, pretending to look for a book he couldn’t even pronounce. Not dressing for anyone, that wasn’t even fair. Everything you did felt like it was aimed right at him, even when it wasn’t. Especially when it wasn’t.
He stared at the spine of a random economics textbook, pulse loud in his ears.
A Christmas party.
You’d be there.
You’d look beautiful. You always did. But at a party? With music, lights, maybe a little glitter, maybe something soft on your lips?
Sunghoon bit the inside of his cheek, hard.
He shouldn’t go. He really, really shouldn’t.
Jay would laugh at him. He’d say Sunghoon was delusional, that he was torturing himself again. And maybe he was. There was nothing logical about wanting someone who didn’t even know he existed beyond the polite surface.
But he also knew one thing: he wasn’t going to miss a chance to be in the same room as you.
Even if it hurt, even if you didn’t look at him once, even if he stood among the crowd like he always did; quiet, tense, pretending he wasn’t watching you.
Because maybe, just maybe, something would happen. Maybe there’d be a moment. A spark. A glance held a little longer than politeness required.
Maybe … He clung to that word like a lifeline.
“Are you going?” Sunghoon nearly jumped as Jake appeared at his side, peeking through the same library gap he’d been using to spy.
Sunghoon shut the book a little too fast. “To what?”
Jake smirked. “Don’t play dumb. I heard the whole conversation.”
Sunghoon glared at him, but Jake only raised his hands in surrender.
“Look,” Jake said softer, nudging Sunghoon’s shoulder, “it’s a party. You don’t have to confess your love or whatever. Just go. Have fun. Breathe the same air as her or something.”
Sunghoon rolled his eyes, but his heart thumped painfully hard.
Because he was going, of course he was.
He already knew the moment he heard your laugh. He’d go to Sunoo’s Christmas party. He’d risk the humiliation, the ache, the longing.
Just to see you, to be near you, to have one night where everything felt possible, even if it wasn’t. And maybe (if fate was kind) he’d get that second of your attention he’d been starving for all year.
He had it planned, going out of his way to ask Sunoo to make sure there were mistletoes at the party.
“Sunghoon, of course there’s mistletoes, it’s a christmas party,” he told the boy as if it was the most obvious thing. Sunghoon flushed, scratching the back of his neck.
“I know, I just— just make sure they’re by the door and maybe in the living room and… maybe the kitchen too.”
Sunoo blinked at him, slowly. “Why? Planning on kissing half the school?”
Sunghoon shot him a flat look. “No.”
“Ohhhh,” Sunoo grinned, leaning in, “you’re planning on kissing a certain girl.”
Sunghoon didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. The tips of his ears turned pink, and Sunoo laughed loud enough for three people.
“Alright, alright, I’ll make sure there’s mistletoe literally everywhere,” he promised, patting Sunghoon’s shoulder. “You’ll get your chance.”
But as the party crept closer, Sunghoon’s confidence didn’t grow, it shrank. Every day he saw you was a reminder of how impossible this plan felt. What if you didn’t show up? What if someone else kissed you first? What if you just didn’t want him?
The night of the party, Sunghoon stood in front of his mirror adjusting the collar of his sweater for the fifth time. His heartbeat felt like it was in his throat. He looked good (he knew he did) but he still felt like he was stepping into a battlefield with no armor.
And then he heard your laugh. You were there.
The sound hit him before the sight did, ringing through Sunoo’s house like a bell. His breath stuttered. He walked toward the living room, hands shoved in his pockets, moving like he wasn’t desperate even though he absolutely was.
Then he saw you.
You were standing near the fireplace, cheeks flushed from the cold, wearing a soft holiday sweater that looked unfairly good on you. Your hair shimmered under the warm lights, and your eyes sparkled with the kind of joy that knocked the air out of his lungs.
But what killed him most?
You were standing right under a mistletoe.
Sunghoon froze.
This was it. This was everything he planned for, everything he tortured himself over, all right there within reach.
But you weren’t alone. You were talking to someone, head tilted, smiling politely. Sunghoon’s heart sank until he realized—
It wasn’t a guy. It was Hanni, animated and waving her arms dramatically, telling some story.
Sunghoon exhaled shakily. Okay. Okay, good. There was still hope. He took one step toward you.
Then another.
Then another.
But five steps away, he stopped again, completely frozen. You had looked up, right at him. And your smile brightened like you’d been waiting for him.
You raised your hand in a shy little wave, eyes warm before walking away with Hanni.
Fuck.
Where were you going? This was his chance! Sunghoon’s pulse spiked so hard he felt it in his throat. His palms went clammy, breath catching as you disappeared into the crowd of glittering lights, red cups, and too-loud Mariah Carey. He had rehearsed this moment in the mirror (actually rehearsed it) down to where he’d stand, what he’d say, how he’d angle his shoulders so he didn’t look stiff or intimidating.
And now you were walking away.
“Hoon!” Jake shouted from across the room, holding up a plate of gingerbread like he’d just won a prize.
Sunghoon ignored him.
No, he didn’t spend two weeks thinking about this stupid mistletoe plan, didn’t put product in his hair for once, didn’t spend an hour picking a sweater that made him look less like a walking icicle, just to freeze when you actually smiled at him.
You smiled at him, his brain short-circuited.
Jay’s voice echoed in his head: She’s out of your league, but then your wave echoed louder.
He swallowed hard. He could still catch you. He could still walk after you and say something—anything.
Three steps forward.
Then Heeseung interrupted. “Dude, Are you okay?” He appeared beside him, eyebrows raised, sipping eggnog that was definitely 80% spiked.
Sunghoon’s jaw clenched. “I’m fine.”
“You look like you’re about to throw up.”
“I’m fine,” he repeated, sharper this time, already scanning the room for you. He saw Hanni’s fluffy white earmuffs bobbing near the kitchen doorway, you had to be there.
He turned to go.
Heeseung put a hand on his shoulder. “If you’re gonna confess, don’t talk about the weather. You do that when you’re nervous.”
“I’m not confessing,” Sunghoon muttered, peeling his friend’s hand off and heading toward the kitchen.
He absolutely was.
The hallway smelled like cinnamon and cheap cologne, the soft glow of string lights casting warm shadows on the walls. He could hear your laugh (light and real) from inside the kitchen, and his heart damn near launched itself out of his chest.
He slowed again. What if you were talking to someone? What if you were already under a mistletoe with some other guy? What if—
Sunghoon shook his head hard, no more what-ifs.
He stepped into the doorway and saw you standing there by the island, hair tucked behind your ear, cheeks pink from the warmth, laughing at something Hanni said.
Just above you, dangling from a red ribbon?
A perfect mistletoe. His breath caught.
This was it.
But just as he took a step toward you, his chance finally right there— You turned to Manon and said lightly,
“I’m gonna go get some fresh air.” And you left… again… Right past the mistletoe, right past him, and Sunghoon almost groaned in frustration, he was going to lose his mind tonight.
No, tonight he was going to confess, he was determined to.
He followed you outside, hurrying through the crowd of adults grinding on each other to get to you. And when he was finally in front of you, the words got caught in his throat.
You looked at him, your nose pink because of the cold, rubbing your hands together to warm them. “Sunghoon?” you asked softly, tilting your head. “Did you need something?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. All of the words he could have ever said stuck in his throat.
Great. Amazing. Wonderful. He finally had you alone, outside, under the soft glow of Sunoo’s porch lights, the music faint behind you, and he was malfunctioning like a broken robot.
You stepped closer, concern flickering across your face. “Are you okay? You look a little—”
“I like you.” The words ripped out of him before he could stop them.
Your eyes widened.
Shit. Too fast, too blunt, too everything. He hadn’t even eased into it. No warm-up. No clever line. Just vomit feelings, immediately.
He sucked in a shaky breath. “I— I mean, I’ve liked you for a while. Like… a long while. And I was trying to tell you inside but you kept moving and I— I couldn’t—” He shut his eyes, wincing. “God, this is coming out so wrong.”
You stared at him; not running, not laughing.
Just listening. So he swallowed and tried again.
“I like you,” he said, quieter this time. “More than I want to. More than I should. And I know you could do way better and that you’re probably not even interested but I just… I needed to say it before I exploded.”
You blinked at him, “…Sunghoon,” you murmured, stepping close enough that he forgot how to breathe. “Why would you think I’m not interested?”
His heart dropped into his stomach. “Because—you’re you. And I’m—”
You gave him a painfully soft smille, “Sunghoon, I literally left the party because I was hoping you’d follow me.”
His mind blanked. “What?”
“I saw you trying to get to me,” you admitted, cheeks warming. “And I… kind of panicked and escaped.” You laughed nervously. “Guess we’re both disasters.”
He stared at you, wind knocking out of him.
“So… you…” His voice cracked embarrassingly. “You like me?”
You rolled your eyes fondly. “Of course I do.”
That was it. That was all it took.
Sunghoon’s breath hitched, his body moving before his mind could catch up. His hand rose, hovering by your cheek—hesitant, trembling.
“Can I…?”
You nodded.
He cupped your face gently, cold fingertips warming against your skin, his forehead falling against yours because his legs suddenly felt weak.
“I’m going to need you to say it again,” he whispered, a smile pulling at his lips. “Just so I know I’m not dreaming.”
You laughed, quiet and sweet, leaning into his touch, “I like you, Sunghoon.”
This time, he didn’t freeze, he kissed you.
Soft, careful, reverent, like he’d been waiting the whole year for this one moment — which he definitely had.
≡ᶻᶻ༄ synopsis: [inspired by LILAC by IU] when your senior high school class gets a last-minute transferee, your life of second-guessing comes to an abrupt halt. you're finally sure of one thing: you like lee heesung.
≡ᶻᶻ༄ genre: heeseung x gn!reader || high school crush
≡ᶻᶻ༄ warnings: cringe
≡ᶻᶻ༄ word count: ~2.4k words
≡ᶻᶻ༄ a/n: i had an idea for this literally YEARS ago, i wrote it out YEARS ago, and here we are
≡ᶻᶻ༄ disclaimer: this does not in any way shape or form represent the real people who are portrayed here, this is just me doing something fun :)
You found it hard to make up your mind about a lot of things. It would take you upwards of an hour, scrolling through show catalogues on Netflix only to decide you weren’t in a mood to watch anything. You spent ages deciding on what food you felt like eating, always going back on your choices as if there were a right answer. You second-guessed pretty much everything you said; your decisions kept you up at night, popping up in your dreams like a jack-in-the-box you don’t remember winding up.
But in three specific moments, each lasting a breadth of a second, you made up your mind about Lee Heeseung: you liked this guy. You liked him a lot. And that was the one thing you couldn’t go back on.
Heeseung was a transfer student, which, considering it was the last six months of senior year, was a pretty rare case. You heard the students in your class whispering about him even before he walked in that first day. They whispered about his looks, his past schools, claiming different things and citing the words of a friend of a friend who had apparently known him since middle school, or kindergarten, or something. Being the nosy classmate that you were, naturally you tuned in to their flurried gossip.
Not that you had the mind to remember all the rumors the second he actually walked into class. The teacher’s introductions and your classmates’ hushed whispers all faded into the background. You watched him take in the room, eyes roving around the crowd, meeting every gaze. Then his eyes landed on you. That was the first moment.
“Ah, shit.”
Luck would only have it that Heeseung ended up hanging around your friend group since day one. Your friends were a lot more popular and outgoing than you were, so maybe it wasn’t all that unexpected. What was unexpected was—
“I’m sorry, what?”
Ningning rocked forward with laughter at your response. “Your face! God, I wish someone was recording right now.”
“Heeseung said—”
“He said that you, y/n y/ln, are pretty!” your friend smacked your shoulder. She was still recovering from bouts of giggles.
You thought for a while. “He needs his eyes checked.”
“Take the compliment,” a new voice quipped. Your soul nearly jumped out of your skin as the person in question took his seat behind the two of you. “I don’t say that to just anyone.”
You started to think that maybe the rumors of him being a player were true.
Heeseung shuddered. “Ew. Sorry. Remind me to never say that again. Pretty horrible first impression, huh?” He extended a hand to you across the table, fingers curled up in a fist. He gave you his name. As if you didn’t know it already. You told him yours, bumping your knuckles against his. That was moment number two.
“Ah, shit.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ah- no, I Just remembered I left something in the canteen, I’ll be right back!” You scooted yourself out of the way, face flushed. You were so, so, screwed.
There were no big moments like that for a while. Weeks go by. Months. Slowly, you became used to his presence always being nearby. Heeseung would talk to you, and you would respond, surprising even yourself at how easy the words came. After a while, you began to ease up. You told yourself that that thing you were so sure about was just an example of why you should always be careful before making up your mind. You were pretty convinced that he thought of you as a friend, and you were certain you felt the same way. Well, almost certain.
But in the seconds you caught him glancing at you, or as you watched him walk across the hall in the briefest of moments, or when he smiled with you, and didn’t mind carrying the conversation not because you didn’t enjoy his company but because you preferred to listen…in those moments your false conviction fell away in favor for that strange certainty you were so unfamiliar with. It was a certainty that sent your whole being into a frenzy. Because this was not how you worked. You lingered and second-guessed and doubted yourself to a point you could no longer discern if this new fuzzy feeling you got when you looked at him was self-preservation of self-sabotage.
Those moments of burning surety were like a wrench thrown into the complexities of your system, grinding the multitude of gears to a sudden, total, stop. In those moments, your head was devoid of noise. There was only one decision to make, and it was neither simple nor logical. The scary part was that you realized it was a decision you wanted to make.
But then those moments passed and the wrench came loose. The gears of your system would start up again, their constant drone drowning out any thread of surety you thought you had in your grasp. You thought that was it, that there would be no more surprises. No more moments.
But if there was a first, there is a second, and if there is a second, then there would be a third.
You stood in the awning of your school entrance, watching the cold late-November rain crash down. An unforgiving, frigid wind blew through everything, rattling bare skeleton trees that brushed the underbellies of dark clouds.
You were freezing cold. The roof of the building did next to nothing to keep out the rain, so not only were you freezing in your school uniform, but you were also frustratingly, miserably wet. In your misery you remembered how you eventually decided against bringing an umbrella to school that morning. Not like an umbrella could do anything against the storm, but at least then there would be something between you and that angry sky. It didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime soon. You were already thinking about what to do, your brain going back and forth between choices before you heard it.
Above the roar and cold of worlds within and without, you heard someone call your name. Within seconds you found yourself being pulled back into the shelter and warmth of the school’s thresholds…and somebody’s arms. His embrace.
“What were you thinking, just standing out there in the cold?” Heeseung’s words were scolding, but his tone was one more of amusement. Like he couldn’t believe his luck, finding you out there all alone.
“I, uh,” you stepped back to get a better look at him, ignoring the flush of heat rising to your cheeks. “Didn’t have an umbrella.”
“No shit. You could’ve come back in.”
“I was thinking how I could get to the bus stop without getting wet.”
“Well then, there’s your problem. You’re already soaking wet. C’mon, the heater’s on in the music room.”
You hesitated. The last thing you needed was for your teachers or other students to see you with a mop of sopping hair.
“Don’t worry, nobody’s there right now,” he reassured you before you could voice your worries. “I think there was choir practice earlier and somebody forgot to turn it off. An absolute fire hazard, but lucky us.”
“You do choir?” you asked, surprised, as you followed him up the stairs leaving a trail of rainwater in your wake.
“Hah! No. But they do let me nap there whenever I want.”
“Why?”
He turned on his heel to regard you as he kept walking backwards. “I guess everyone wants some kind of audience.”
“I don’t,” you said almost absentmindedly. As you said it a strange sound bled through the usual thrum of your thoughts; something so unlike the mechanical whims you were used to that you began to doubt if it happened at all.
Heeseung simply gave you a challenging look, as if he heard the sound in your head, too.
When you reached the music room he paused at the entryway. “I’m going to get towels from the locker rooms. Be back, okay?”
That left you alone in a heated music room with a glimmering baby grand piano. The sound from earlier returned, singing over your thoughts and clashing with the real mechanical hum of the old heaters.
You looked across shiny black wood. Before you knew it, you had positioned yourself at the bench. The cover had been left open as if waiting. Waiting for you. The keys lay before you, organized in a way that made sense. But it had been so long. Your fingers hovered over pristine white-and-black keys. You searched your mind for anything to play—a simple melody, a piece tied forever to muscle memory.
But there was only the whir of constant, incessant, useless thoughts. Decisions waiting to be made, paths opening and closing in a matter of counts.
You rested your right thumb on middle C. All at once, a silent symphony broke through the ticks and cools of the engine in your brain. You smiled, and began to play.
“Look at you.”
Your fingers slipped on the keys as you whirled to face him. Heeseung stood in the door of the room with a stack of towels balanced on one hand. The look on his face was…fondness? Almost as if he saw a part of you that the world made you forget. Or you made yourself forget. Like he knew exactly what that was like.
“Well, here you go,” he chirped, handing you the towels you didn’t know your school even had. “Dry off before you get sick or permanently ruin the floor. Whichever comes first.” He walked past you, looking out the window.
It all happened so fast, the strings of the piano still reverberating with the piece you thought you had long forgotten. You sat yourself in front of the heater, sitting with one towel around your shoulders. Then he came and promptly dropped a second towel over your head.
“Why don’t you play anymore?” he asked. You listened to the rain beat against the window.
Why, why, why? You search your thoughts. What answer can you give him that’ll make him satisfied?
Silence. Usually people ask follow-up questions after you don’t respond. They repeat themselves, thinking you hadn’t heard them. But really you just want to say something, everything, all at once, but you—
“I don’t know,” you looked down at your fingers, finding the softened calluses and fingernails you kept short out of habit. “I just got busy ‘cause of school, you know?”
He slid down to the floor across from you and a little to the left, so he was leaning against the wall. He looked straight ahead into nothing. “She told me you were quite the prodigy back then,” he said absently, probably referring to Ningning. “She thought you had completely forgotten how to play. Then we made a bet. And I was right.” he regarded you with a gaze that made you want to hide and yell out with joy at the same time. You knew it was coming but you felt it was now customary to let out a small:
“Ah, shit.”
He startled into laughter. The sound made your head feel clear. In fact, it had been clear since you pressed the first key on that piano. All the whirring and thrumming of your thoughts suddenly gone. What remained was a quiet surety. Even if it was temporary, you felt a surge of relief.
“Is that your I-forgot-something-in-the-canteen-Ah-shit?” he joked, alluding to the first time you had met and said the same punctuating curse.
“It’s not that,” you looked up from your fingers and met his gaze. You saw glimmers of colors in them you hadn’t noticed before. The thoughts in your head all told you to say one thing. “It’s more of an… I-think-I-like-you-Ah-shit’.”
He stared at you.
“Please don’t ask me if I’m sure because for the first time in a really, really long time—I’m actually sure of one thing. And you don’t have to say anything, because I of all people should understand how long it takes to make a decision, but just so I—so you know, too…” Your words trailed off, but the usual cacophony of voices screaming at you to just shut up were miraculously, blessedly, silent. You felt tears come to your eyes. You didn’t feel ashamed, only certain. Certain that this was the right thing to be doing. And whether he liked you back or not, it was okay, because this was a choice you were making for yourself.
“I’m honored, really. Thank you for telling me.” he said at last. “But—”
“It’s okay, I totally understand.”
“*–*I can’t believe you beat me to it.”
That was not at all what you were expecting.
“I was going to tell you one day, but I didn’t want to shock you into a commitment you didn’t feel like making. Your friends told me what you were like when it comes to stuff like this.”
“I’m still plenty scared of it,” you admitted with a nervous laugh.
“That’s okay,” he got up from the floor and dusted himself off. He extended a hand out to you. “We don’t have to run after anything right now.”
You took his hand without the faintest idea where he was going to take you now. “I mean I am scared, but I don’t want to wait my whole life to not be scared. I want to try to be different.”
He hoisted you to your feet, wet towels still draped over your head and shoulders. He looked down at your eyes, then out the window. The skies were so gray that to you they looked almost purple. A stormy lilac.
“Then just until we graduate,” he said simply. His voice was so melodic you thought he was singing. “Love me only till this spring.” He leaned forward, taking advantage of your stunned silence to poke a finger to your nose. He walked off, leaving you frozen by the radiator.
“I—hey wait! I said I liked you, not that I—”
Heeseung’s laughter echoed back to you from the hallway as you ran out to catch up with him. As you walked and talked alongside him you thought that maybe this could work.
≡ᶻᶻ༄ synopsis: it’s your after-graduation high school party, your entire batch is here. love story by taylor swift starts playing and everyone, regardless of their cliques and previous histories, are arm-in-arm, shoulder-to-shoulder, screaming the lyrics at the top of their lungs. some people are long gone wasted, barely able to keep their eyes open. others, like you, have had a drink or two, just enough to feel the electric buzz simmering beneath your consciousness. and others, like sunghoon, have the audacity to remain seated. in your tipsy state of confidence, you rush over to where they are and pull him to his feet, dragging him to the center of the crowd...
≡ᶻᶻ༄ genre: sunghoon x gn!reader || high school crush
≡ᶻᶻ༄ warnings: alcohol, tipsy kiss, not 100% proof-read
≡ᶻᶻ༄ word count: ~1.7k words
≡ᶻᶻ༄ a/n: BEEN A WHILE!! this was in the drafts collecting dust and spiderwebs but i'm feeling chancy. this is a strangely specific fic don't read into it too much
≡ᶻᶻ༄ disclaimer: this does not in any way shape or form represent the real people whose names are mentioned, this is just a kpoppie doing something fun :)
We were both young when I first saw you
I close my eyes and the flashback starts
I'm standin' there
On a balcony in summer air
See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns
See you make your way through the crowd
And say, "Hello"
Little did I know
Nobody in your high school batch would have expected their award-sweeping, model student, perfect attendance valedictorian to be fucking it up at the club four hours after throwing their caps in the air, and yet there you were. You were a great student, but now that you’d graduated and you weren’t going to be a student for the next three months, you were going to give yourself the freedom you deserved.
After the after party (held in school, with everyone’s parents around), a few of your batch mates had spontaneously planned an after-after party at a club nearby. Being invited to go, you decided—why the hell not? After four years of ceaseless working and model behavior to your batch mates and underclassmen, this was the final thing on your high school bucketlist. You had gone to parties before, you knew your alcoholic limits, but you’d never gone with this particular group of people. Who cared? You had no obligation to be the perfect student anymore. And, once you got home, there was no guarantee you’d ever see your fellow graduates ever again. You had chuckled to yourself getting into your friend’s car to head to the venue; why not give them a show?
So that’s how you ended up with your feet hurting, still wearing your fancy shoes for the ceremony, cocktail in hand, jumping with your friends and batch mates. You were a couple drinks in, not drunk enough to pass out and forget everything the next morning, but tipsy enough that you probably shouldn’t be making any life-altering decisions. You were about to go sit down at the table your group had reserved when Love Story by Taylor Swift came on. Your friends instantly dragged you back to the dance floor.
At this point in the evening, your group had split off to different parts of the room. But somehow, you all found each other in that crowded club for the song that ran in all your veins. Right next to the DJ, arms over shoulders, all of you singing, even you singing your heart out to the lyrics. Who knew a little alcohol was all it took to bring out the inner Swifties in all of you? To your right was the girl from your math class you’d talked to only once—but now you were laughing together with her arm around your neck as if you’d been close for years. In front of you, the popular group of guys you tended to avoid, were shouting the loudest and jumping the hardest to Ms. Taylor. You found they were a lot more courteous and watchful over your female batch mates in the public club than you thought them capable of. You scanned the circle of your highschool peers, realizing how close you’d all become, even if you’d sit on different sides of the canteen. You glanced back at your shared table and locked eyes with the one person sitting out the song—
You could deny it or change your answer as much as you could, but for the last two years you’d had the biggest crush on Park Sunghoon. What made it worse was you were friends for even longer. You weren’t super close, but you would say hi in the halls, tease each other about assignments, fail to get group projects submitted on time due to your bickering, and play online games together with a few other people. He had his own circle (two of which were standing in front of you now, drunkenly jumping along to Ms. Taylor’s banger chorus), and you had your own. You’d gone back and forth for years wondering if what you felt was romantic or not, the inner debate always ending with the conclusion that you were content as long as you were in his life, one way or another.
So I sneak out to the garden to see you
We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew
So close your eyes
Escape this town for a little while, oh oh
Well. You were both going to different countries for university now. Who knew if you’d even come back to this town for the breaks? Who could guarantee that you’d stay in touch and meet over the holidays? If you were no longer in his life, could you have lived with yourself?
You were tipsy enough to probably not be making life-altering decisions. But there you were.
“Y/n, where you going?” your friend asked as you pulled out of the circle.
“I’ll be right back,” you yelled back, gesturing to the table. They nodded you off as you made your way through the crowd.
—
You came to Sunghoon like a burst of light and laughter. He had been watching Jay and Jake make absolute fools of themselves, fresh highschool graduates in the center of a club at one in the morning. He’d caught your eye earlier, your brilliant, joyous smile framed against the dark of everyone’s silhouettes. You glowed. And now there you were in front of him.
“Hey,” you were breathless from fighting through the press of bodies. You crouched down so he could hear you. A few other of your batchmates were there, a couple too far gone to even stand, another tending to them. “You doing okay?”
Sunghoon held up his can of cola with a cheeky grin.
Before he knew it, you had pulled him to his feet and were dragging him to the dance floor. The song had reached its second chorus and the entire club—highschool graduates, college kids, weird guys way too young to be legally allowed in, actual weird creepy guys, and people off work on a Friday night—all jumped along to the song, as if they were all born with the lyrics of this song imprinted in their hearts.
You had both Sunghoon’s hands in yours as the two of you danced in the center of all your friends. Even in the multicolored lights he could tell your cheeks had an alcohol flush, but your eyes were clear and bright. Before he knew it, he was jumping along with you, ignoring the off-tune shouts of his friends. When he tagged along to their parties he was always the designated driver; the one to make sure everyone was okay and alive, but also the one sitting out on the side. He never felt the need to down a drink, and he felt enough of an energy surge just watching everyone sway and shout. People had tried to get him on his feet before, but for some reason, when you pulled him up to dance, he felt like he had been waiting all his life for that moment. Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone. You were just his friend—the one you said hi to sometimes, the one who knew his secret favorite song, the one he had a tiny crush on in middle school but not anymore. Obviously, not anymore.
Sunghoon felt like he was dreaming, spinning around in that circle of freshly minted high school graduates with both of your hands in his, the two of you jumping in unison. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, even if he wanted to.
“What?” he shouted, thinking you’d said something. Then you realized you were singing the lyrics of the bridge. To him.
Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone
I keep waiting for you, but you never come
Is this in my head? I don't know what to think
He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring
—
You had no idea what you were doing. Did you really just drag Sunghoon up to dance? Were you really holding his hands right now? Were you really this close? You could see the colored lights in his eyes. His cat’s fang smile peaked out at you as you practically shouted in his face the bridge of the song.
And then Park Sunghoon was singing back. You had to be dreaming. Things like this never happened in real life. You’d dream of him holding your hand or kissing the top of your head, and then you’d wake up and go to school and you weren’t even able to hold his gaze. And now you somehow got him to stand up, hold your hands, and now he was singing with you and gazing into your eyes as if you were the only people in the room. You wanted to scream.
And said, "Marry me, Juliet
You'll never have to be alone
I love you and that's all I really know
I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress
It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"
Before the song was over he was kissing you. You heard cheers around you, whether from the high of the song or because of the two of you; but you didn’t care.
—
Sunghoon didn’t care about the hoots and whistles. All there was was you. Your breath on his lips, slightly sweet from the alcohol, your arms around his neck. The song ended, but you were still there, pressed so close to him he felt weightless. Don’t let go. Sunghoon thought at you, circling an arm around your waist. Someone clapped his shoulder, but he brushed them off. All he cared about was this. You—right here, in his arms, with no space in between you.
When the next song started playing, another cheer went up around the club, and the bliss of the after-kiss was left sacred to the two of you. Your forehead was still pressed against his, your fingers playing with the back of his head, sending chills down his spine.
“Wanna get out of here?” You said to him. You were so close he could hear you even over the booming bass and whirls of lights.
“Thought you’d never ask,” Sunghoon reached for your hand at his neck and tugged you towards the exit.
≡ᶻᶻ༄ synopsis: loosely based on enhypen's movie of a comeback trailer for romance: untold
≡ᶻᶻ༄ genre: jake x gn!reader || established relationship || idek what this is
≡ᶻᶻ༄ warnings: none :] (if there are any, let me know)
≡ᶻᶻ༄ word count: 392 words
≡ᶻᶻ༄ a/n: third jake fic..... can you tell i've had it bad for jake lately....... yikes !
≡ᶻᶻ༄ disclaimer: this does not in any way shape or form represent the real people whose names are mentioned, this is just a kpoppie trying something new :)
When Jake woke you up, the street lights were already on. The fluorescent green shot through the blinds of the room. It was eerie, casting the planes of his face in an unnatural glow, all emerald and shadow.
His voice was soft, whispering over the musty, borrowed sheets. “We have to go.”
“Already?” You rolled over, pulling yourself up into a sitting position. He sat at the edge of the thin mattress, one hand still gently wrapped around your wrist. “I thought we’d get a few days here at least.”
“I know,” he looked down at your hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” you put a hand to his cheek, lifting his face up so he could see you. His eyes glinted green and gold from the lights outside. “None of that. I chose this too, remember? I chose you.”
Jake looked like he was about to argue then decided against it. Instead he kissed the palm that cradled his face. “We leave in five.”
The last few weeks on the run had shaped you into an efficient traveler. You never fully unpacked your things anymore, always having everything within a couple feet from your bag. It took half the time he gave you to get everything packed in. You cast one last look over your shoulder at the room you had had for a whole nine hours. Oh, well. You’ve known some places even shorter.
The car was running when you got outside. The others were passing around weapons, the sounds of clasps and triggers clicking softly in the night. Your breath fogged in the air as you waited. The green-gold street lights glistened on the slick cobblestone street.
“You ready?” he came up next to you, his fingers slipping through yours. In another world maybe the two of you would have been walking down this same street, perhaps slightly tipsy, going home after a party, hand-in-hand with no fear in the world.
You squeezed his fingers, leaned against him. “I guess so.”
He opened the passenger seat door for you before climbing into the driver’s seat. You looked back at the others; they gave you sleepy smiles and assured nods. He shifted the gears, and the car rolled out of park and into the street. You squeezed your bag between your legs and held your breath, hoping tonight wouldn’t be the last.
≡ᶻᶻ༄ synopsis: (based on the song Oceans & Engines by NIKI!) the last hours you have with jake make you realize that despite your excitement for him, saying goodbye is hard. when all you want to do is hang on to the last few rays of light, hoping, hoping, hoping you'll wake up and this'll all be a dream.
≡ᶻᶻ༄ genre: jake x gn!reader || established relationship || ANGST
≡ᶻᶻ༄ warnings: none :]
≡ᶻᶻ༄ word count: 903 words
≡ᶻᶻ༄ a/n: that feeling of longing for a pause button on life :(((( this song is so so good too pls listen to NIKI
≡ᶻᶻ༄ disclaimer: this does not in any way shape or form represent the real people whose names are mentioned, this is just a kpoppie trying something new :)
Saturday sunset, we’re lyin’ on my bed
With five hours to go
Fingers entwined and so were our minds
Cryin, I don’t want you to go
You were the happiest person on the planet when Jake told you he was leaving. At least, that’s what it looked like on the outside. Because only you knew how much he’d wanted to live in his mother-country after years of living abroad. You knew about the dreams he had of turning his passion into something that could change the lives of so many people—and not just yours.
The two of you had grown up away from your parents’ countries. Your families had been neighbors your entire lives. The two of you went through the same things as you stumbled and fell and scraped the skin off your knees and got up again. Falling on concrete sidewalks turned into falling for sophomores in middle school turned into falling for each other. And the scraped knees because of it were almost too much to bear on that Saturday sunset day.
“You can be sad, too, you know.” Jake said to you while playing with a piece of popcorn. He kept tossing it up again and again without eating it. “You don’t have to always be smiling.”
“Shush,” you said after finding no other answer to defend yourself with. You looked back at the movie you’d put on, pretending you were watching it the whole time. “Let me watch Ron Weasely get mauled by a dog in peace.”
“I’m serious,” he said gently. When you kept your eyes glued to the projector propped up in your bedroom, he sat forward and waved a hand in front of your face. “Hello?”
“Shh! This is the funny part.”
Jake turned around to check the scene and raised a quizzical brow back at you. “Harry and Hermione getting their asses kicked by a tree?”
You snorted in affirmation.
“I’m dating a psycho,” he murmured before starting to tickle you all over. Your shrieks and yelps of protest did nothing to stop him until you were both gasping for air from laughing so hard.
The two of you finally called a truce on your tickle war to slump against each other, gazing blankly at the movie playing before your eyes. One scene changed to the next, to the next. Too fast.
For a minute you wondered what it would be like to live in a world of magic, where traveling to different places was instantaneous and effortless. How you wished that were true for this world, too.
“I’m not always smiling.” You said quietly. Your breaths were alternating now. His exhales were your inhales.
“I know you. I know you’re hiding it from me. I know you probably cry yourself to sleep at night.” Jake answered softly. “Don’t do that alone. I don’t want you feeling sad all by yourself.”
The tears lining the sides of your eyes cast the dusk-layered room in a watery glow. You leaned back on him even more, wishing you could hit pause and never move on.
“Cry now. Here, with me. Later, too, if you want, in your brother’s room. Tomorrow, cry with your puppy.”
You laughed at the last addition, your giggles coming up through the sniffles. “They’ll be so sick of my crying.”
“They wouldn’t be,” the certainty in his voice only made the rock in your throat grow. “I wouldn’t be sick of you, either. So cry now, as much as you like, until it feels better.”
He was hugging you know, arms circled around you warmly as if he wasn’t crying just as hard as you were.
“I don’t want you to go,” your lips quivered. This was the first time you managed to say anything against his move since he told you about it all those months ago.
“I won’t ever leave you, you know that,” he whispered back, finding your fingers in the dark. You clung on to him like the hole in your stomach was going to grow bigger and bigger until the whole world was overflowing with emptiness and his hands were all you had left to keep you from disappearing. You knew he felt it, too, in the way his fingers gripped yours, mirroring your own desperation.
But you both knew there was no stopping it. You knew what you were getting into the moment you acknowledged the lingering gazes and fluttering tummies. You knew a first love was never meant to last. How foolish of the both of you to think that maybe this one would.
So you said goodbye on that empty Saturday evening, watching as his fingers untwined from yours like loose threads on a sweater. You sat on your bedroom floor, staring out at the stars that were just starting to appear on an ocean-blue sky. You listened to the sound of an engine start up and carry its vehicle down the lane, away from your house. As you sat, the memories you had of him poured through you like tears. You never wanted to forget. You knew you couldn’t, even if you tried. Even if he was real as life behind your closed eyes, from now on he would always just be your great, lost, love.
≡ᶻᶻ༄ synopsis: your parents have planned a birthday party fit for royalty for you, and you're ironically the least happy person in the room. lucky for you, though, you have a best friend who's willing to save you from your own version of a dragon tower.
≡ᶻᶻ༄ genre: bestfriend!ni-ki x gn y/n || best friend au || a bit of fluff :>
≡ᶻᶻ༄ warnings: joking mentions of kidnapping
≡ᶻᶻ༄ word count: ~600 words
≡ᶻᶻ༄ a/n: a lot of my fics are more just silly and not so much on the fluff but i have fun writing them nonetheless hehe,,, also let's say this happens in a place that has disneyland and 18 year olds can drive
≡ᶻᶻ༄ disclaimer: this does not in any way shape or form represent the real people whose names are mentioned, this is just a deranged kpoppie trying something new :)
It was your very own 18th birthday celebration and you wanted out.
Of course, you basically had no say in anything for the planning of said party. Your parents, being the attention-loving, high-profile, perfect reputation socialites that they were, took the entire matter off your hands. No matter how many times you asked for your own friends to be invited, or the food menu to be changed to actually match your tastes, they just brushed it all aside. They seemed to think that they were doing you a favor in that planning your own debut party was something you shouldn't have to worry about.
You were really trying to enjoy yourself at least: talking to people you've really only met a handful of times at your parents' business galas, making small talk with their kids who seemed to not even know whose birthday it was or whose house they were standing in. It wasn't that great, admittedly. On the outside, it was a success of a debut party. But to you, it just felt like a prison.
If just one person whom you actually wanted around was here, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
Your ringing phone broke you out of your puddle of self-pity. You quietly slipped into a storage closet (you knew all the places with the best chances of privacy by heart) and answered the call.
"You having fun up there?" a voice snarked at the end of the line. Nishimura Riki, one of your best friends, and your parents' favorite acquaintance of yours to criticize. If you had a chance to invite even a single person, it would've been Ni-ki and his silly indescribable antics all the way. Not like they would have ever approved of it, but oh, what you would give to have a laugh right about now.
"Oh, yes, this is the most enjoyable birthday party ever!" you replied in dreamy sing-song. "I know everyone here and the food is amazing~!"
"Oh, okay," Ni-ki began non-chalantly. "I was going to ask if you wanted to leave, but you're obviously having the time of your life, so I'll just go ask Jake if he--"
"Please kidnap me." You begged.
"Meet me outside in fifteen minutes, then."
"Fifteen minutes? Aren't you here already, can't I just go now?"
"I don't know, depends. Are you good with going into dark alleys in uncomfortable party clothes?"
"You know I was joking about the whole kidnapping thing."
A clear laugh from the end of the line that caused you to smile genuinely for the first time that day.
"Just get your ass outside in fifteen, your highness," you roll your eyes at Ni-ki's favorite nickname for you. You peek your head out of the closet and feel slightly guilty to your parents for what you're about to do. Well. Not really.
"Hey! Isn't that my hoodie?" Ni-ki cries indignantly as you approach him and his car waiting outside your gated driveway.
"No, ho," you retort. "It's mine, remember? I was going to give it back but you were all, 'Ew no, rich people stank, just keep it'."
He pondered for a minute before shaking his head. "Never said that, never happened--give it back."
"So, what? You want me to strip right here?"
"Forget it," Ni-ki turned away before you could pull the piece of clothing off your head. "Just get in."
"You still haven't told me where we're going?"
"We're going to Disneyland, your highness."
"Seriously?!"
"No, of course not, the fuck?"
"Aw, c'mon, you know I've never been."
"Your highness has never been to Disneyland, go figure," he starts the car engine. "Also it's like 10pm, doesn't it close soon?"
You hold up your phone screen that says that Disneyland closes at midnight, and he waves you off on the pretense that you're distracting him.
"Alright, so not Disneyland. Where, then?"
Ni-ki paused, as if seriously thinking for the first time about where he was actually going to take you. Then he turns to you, that trademark glint of mischief in his eyes.
≡ᶻᶻ༄ synopsis: a demon from the underworld (read: an owl) has invaded your room. despite your best efforts (involving a lot of running around and deep breaths and textbook projectiles), you resolved to running out of your room after you exhausted your best methods for an exorcism. and unfortunately for you, you ran into hallway crush lee heeseung, who, fortunately for you, was more than willing to assist you in getting your room back.
≡ᶻᶻ༄ genre: heeseung x gn! reader || college!au || acquantainces to friends au || mostly crack and a sprinkle of fluff?
≡ᶻᶻ༄ warnings: cussing and really weird sentence structure that barely make sense im sorry lmao. also y/n is a total scatterbrain and a simp
≡ᶻᶻ༄ word count: ~1.9k
≡ᶻᶻ༄ a/n: i~~~ haven't posted in a while but here we are. a lot of my stories, i'm finding out, are just the most randoms scenarios u can ever imagine translated into a passable reader x [insert character here] fic.
≡ᶻᶻ༄ disclaimer: this does not in any way shape or form represent the real people whose names are mentioned, this is just a deranged kpoppie trying something new :)
“There’s...an owl in my room.”
“I’m sorry, who?”
“Yes, that. It sounds exactly like that.”
You were never going to keep your window open ever again.
It had been approximately two (2) months and three (3) days since you moved into the boarding house a block away from your school. Two (2!) months and three (3!!!) days of living on your own for the first time in your life. It was going well, as you had assured your dad that morning. What a naïve fool you were.
Nothing was fine anymore.
Not with the foot-tall demon spawn with bright yellow eyes fluttering around your room as if it owned the place and was looking to clock in after a long day.
You ducked in between your bed and bedside table, praying that it would fly back out the way it came. But after several stretched-out minutes of attempted breathing exercises, you had had enough. You scanned the floor of your room, which was usually pristine but was presently a mess thanks to your frenzied panic. You took hold of your biology textbook, prepared to use it either as a shield or a projectile depending on what the situation called for.
“You can do this,” you hissed at yourself. All you had to do was shoo it back out the window. Simple. “Just think of it as a...a ball. Yeah. A big, easy-to-hit ball. With wings.”
You took three steady breaths. You stood up. You caught sight of it in the corner of your eye, glaring at you with the full force of hell. That was all it took for you to abandon ship without a second thought.
You ran out the door, a silent scream stuck in your throat. You slammed the door behind you on the way out, adrenaline coursing through your veins like ice.
“Are you...okay?”
You looked up at the only other person in the hall at this unholy hour, considerably more sane-looking than you. You knew Lee Heeseung--he was one of the other dozen students that lived in the same boarding house. It was impossible not to notice whenever he walked in a room, much less impossible to avoid looking at him, because JEEPERS did he win the gene pool lottery.
However, at this particular point in the evening, Lee Heeseung was not somebody who you wanted to see you in the middle of the hall wearing the worst pair of pajamas the world had ever seen. So what if you’d only spoken to him a few times? You still wanted to look normal.
“Are you alright?” he repeated. God, how bad did you look?
“Yeah, yeah,” you swallowed, now having to battle through two (2!!!!) completely different shocking situations. Frankly, you felt like a lot like y/n in one of those cringe imagines people write online.
"There's just a..." you gesticulated vaguely in the direction of your closed door. Way to make a new impression. How the hell were you going to explain...THIS.
"Did somebody enter your room?" Heeseung asked apprehensively, lowering his voice to a whisper and pitching forward so you could hear. He made it sound like you were hiding some saucy secret behind those doors.
"Um..yes? In a sense, I guess you could say that--"
Heeseung looked around and reached for a Swifer mop that so conveniently leaned against the wall like a piece of modern art (and, living in a house with a few fine arts students, it might as well could have been). "So someone is in there? Do you know who?"
"Yeah. That's exactly what they sound like."
"I'm sorry?"
"I think it's better if I just..." you took hold of the door knob and held up your textbook-turned-shield. Heeseung took that as a warning signal and tightened his grip on the neon-green floor mop. You swung the door open as quietly as you could.
A swoop of wings and scrapping of talons burst out of nowhere, heading straight for at you.
BAM
You slammed the door shut. You looked up at Heeseung as if to say, "Do you see my problem?"
"Holy shit," he stared at the wood of the closed door before turning to you. "How long were you trapped in there for?"
You shivered. "Way too long."
Heeseung set his jaw, pulling his hood up over his head like it was a helmet that could do anything against a set of very sharp claws. He tightened his grip on the mop.
"You don't need to do this," you said apologetically. "I can ask someone else."
"I doubt any of the housekeepers are up right now," he extended the mop handle to its maximum length, locking it in place with a click. "So unless you'd like to spend the night in the common room and hope to God it's gone by morning..."
You shook your head vigorously, turning to face the door, your knuckles white around its knob. It was like a spider. Better get it out of the house before you lost sight of it. But even spiders were better than an imp from the underworld.
"On the count of three," he whispered to you.
"Slowly," you nodded. "One..."
"Two,"
At your unified whisper of "Three-!", you twisted the knob creaking the door ajar as quietly as you could. Heeseung peaked in over your head.
"It's on the blinds," he whispered. You could feel his breath ruffling your hair. Snap out of it, you hissed at yourself. Deciding to panic about this scandalously close proximity another day, you creaked the door further open.
The owl perched itself rather uncomfortably on the blinds above your open window. It had its head tucked underneath one wing but looked relatively unharmed. You noted, with immense relief, that your room was also in a better state than you imagined. You guessed it hadn't really done much while you were out except to fly around in a confused circle, and you had been the one at fault for recreating a crime scene.
"It's right there," you hissed at it, gesturing at the wide-open window half a foot away from its talons.
The owl untucked its head and gave you a steely glare. You let out something that sounded a little like "meep!" and held up the textbook up to your face. Psh. Like you could scare it away with diagrams of cell membranes and respiration cycles.
"Let me try," Heeseung stepped in front of you, taking the door knob from your hand and pushing it open micrometer by micrometer. You stared at the owl from under his arm. It stared back at you. Everything about it was unflinching.
Heeseung took a slow, cautious step into the thresholds of your room, holding the mop at the ready. (Some part of your schoolgirl mind was screaming at the fact that the infamous hallway crush Lee Heeseung was in your bedroom!!)
You fell into silent step behind him, clutching your own weak excuse for a weapon and closing the door behind you. The last thing any one of you wanted was to have the owl fly out into the hall and wake up everyone in the house (and risk getting kicked out now that you've finally made contact with Lee Heeseung. Of course that's not what was really important).
The two of you crossed the room, holding your breath and freezing up your joints whenever the owl so much as blinked. At one point, it stretched its neck to an unnatural length and lifted its wings. Heeseung took an instinctive step back, nearly knocking you over. And like in all those cliché y/n moments, you would have promptly fell over on your behind if you hadn't caught hold of the back of his hoodie. Thankfully, Heeseung wasn't as much of a klutz as you were, and he braced himself to keep you both from falling over, reaching an arm back to steady you if you needed it.
The owl was so close now. Heeseung extended the Swifer's mop end. Slowly, carefully, he lifted it until it was inches away from the owl's talons. It flapped its wings and your heart almost stopped permanently.
"Hey, buddy," Heeseung murmured soothingly in a voice that would have put babies to sleep in seconds. He poked the mop carefully against the bird's scaly talons of death. "Need a ride outta here?"
Somehow, the owl decided it quite liked this human with a weird stick it was shoving in its face. It shifted its weight onto the stick, offering one, slow, inquisitive blink.
You pinched the corner of Heeseung's hoodie, ready to pull him backwards to safety or offer him as a sacrificial offering depending again on what the situation called for. You needed to be ready for anything.
Soon, he began to lift the Feathered Thing with Eyes of the Highest Hatred away from the blinds. Slowly, carefully, steadily, hushing soothing nothings all the way. You knew it was meant for the bird but damn, was it working a little too well.
The mop was now low enough that all the owl had to do was turn around and fly out. But it kept its gaze fixedly on the two of you, as if two humans had gone and flown into its bedroom.
"Don't you dare fly at me," you told those all-seeing eyes.
"You heard them," Heeseung warned, voice slow and deep as he slowly inched the mop--and its passenger--out the gaping window. "Don't. You dare. Fly."
The mop was now hanging a foot outside the window. You wondered how the scene would have looked like to a passerby below--a bright green Swifer mop poking out of an open third-story window at a ridiculous hour with--heaven help them--an OWL perched ever so precariously atop it.
The owl stared at the two of you, as if to say "What now?". The two of you stared right back at it, unflinching.
A stale eternity passed. Dust particles could have been heard resting lightly on the tabletop.
Then, without warning, Heeseung shook the mop vigorously, sparing no profanity in exclaiming, "Good fucking night to you, sir!"
The owl flew majestically off into the night as if it hadn't just been thrown off a mop head. You ran to the window and slammed it shut. You didn't realize you were laughing until you tried to say something and choked on the words. Heeseung was laughing, too, pulling his hood back and looking up at the Swifer in equal parts disbelief and reverence.
"I ca't believe that worked," you managed in between bouts of laughter.
"This is going on my list of greatest life achievements for sure."
"You could start a business."
"Of throwing owls out of windows?"
"Oh, for sure," you pointed at the Swifer. "You could even get sponsored by them."
Heeseung laughed, and your face warmed. "Would you testify to the quality of my services as my first client?"
"Sure," you piped. "Cute, extremely efficient, but nearly threw the mop out the window. I demand 5% of the profit, by the way."
Heeseung was still hung up on the second word you said, a smirk spreading across his face and eyes sparkling. "I should get going. It's late. You probably want to fix up." He waved at the crumpled sheets and scattered books littered across your little room.
He picked his way through the obstacle of your belongings, turning around at the door to say. "I can't guarantee you 5% of my smashing new start-up," Heeseung went along with the bit. "But how about we hang out some time instead? Preferably without any feathered wildlife present, if that's...cool with you?"
You were laughing a lot today. "Yeah, yeah," you leaned against the door frame. Maybe that owl wasn't such a demon after all. "I'd really like that."
---------------------------
bonus: From the trees, the owl watched the exchange between the two humans happen with a smug expression. Or at least, as smug as an expression an owl can muster.
Mission accomplished. With a triumphant "whooo!" it pushed off from the branch and flew off into the night.
≡ᶻᶻ༄ synopsis: you used to hate thursdays. but this school year is a little different? when an unbelievably perfect human being enters your peaceful time at the library, you think thursdays couldn’t possibly get any better. or could they?
≡ᶻᶻ༄ genre: jay x gn! reader || highschool!au || strangers to friends au || mostly crack and a sprinkle of fluff?
≡ᶻᶻ༄ warnings: cussing and really weird sentence structure that barely make sense im sorry lmao
≡ᶻᶻ༄ word count: ~2k
≡ᶻᶻ༄ a/n: i~~~ actually posted this before with jake instead of jay as the mc’s love interest but i put that post on private bc i feel like it doesnt work with jake as well as it does with jay lmao so if u saw that original post no you didnt <3
≡ᶻᶻ༄ disclaimer: this does not in any way shape or form represent the real people whose names are mentioned, this is just a deranged kpoppie trying something new :)
After years of despising Thursdays for one reason or another, the fourth day of the week finally started warming up to you this year. With only three classes in your unnecessarily hectic 9-hour class schedule, your enemies-to-lovers arc with Thursday was finally starting to make a turn for the better.
You stretched out your arms after sitting in the library for the better part of half an hour, enjoying your glorious free time. None of your friends had their free periods at this particular period, which you were relatively grateful for. God knew how much you loved them, but he also knew you loved your peace and quiet.
And something that made your peaceful Thursdays even better? No one else was at the library to liter the place with their unnecessary chatter and occasional cackle of laughter. No one was there to shuffle noisily through the aisle, pretending to be interested in books just so the librarian wouldn’t kick them out. No one else was in this quiet haven except the books, you, and--
The door opened behind you, cutting through your sweet moment of bliss. Some things were simply too good to be true, weren’t they?
You twisted around in your seat to give your killjoy a bit of a warning stare and--holy fucking shit why was he so dropdead goodlooking?
You clapped a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from gasping aloud (which was cartoonishly childish, but something you wouldn’t put yourself past doing). You’d been at this school for years, and at this point had given up finding “love”, or whatever the kids called it these days, because this campus was apparently incapable of producing anyone remotely close to your unnecessarily high standards. No one even made it past the visual preference checklist!
So when did they start making these?
He had to be in the batch above or below you, because you were sure no one in your grade level looked like that.
You slapped yourself out of it. Sure, maybe he met your physical standards well enough, but what about--oh my God he’s homies with the grumpy librarian nobody has ever seen smile??
You watched his back as he talked with the librarian in hushed tones you couldn’t make out (oh lord he’s still following library etiquette even when virtually nobody else was in the library? Bare minimum? Maybe!) He turned around and locked eyes with you for what fell like five whole seconds but what was realistically just a hundredth of that. It wasn’t like he saw right through you, either, though. There was a hint of recognition in that hundredth of five seconds. Maybe that was just you.
Probably.
He chose a spot at one of the tables at the center of the room and pulled out his laptop. Now you had the decency to feel embarrassed. Here you were, sitting around playing Subway Surf 50 times when you could’ve actually been doing school work. But you knew there was absolutely no way you could focus now with a living breathing human personification of a manga character just sitting there.
Well, you were in a library. There was always something to do that made you look studious, right? You got up from your chair and started roaming the aisles, brushing a finger across the spines of donated tomes from history teachers and rich family patrons. You drifted closer and closer through the shelves until you stood in the aisle in front of him, right in his line of sight.
Sweet cheese, he was even more heart-wrenching closer up. Usually, at this point, you’d get a twinge of “m’kay nevermind” the closer you got, but here you were standing ten feet away and that feeling was miles off in the horizon. Glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, dark hair flopping across his eyes like he had just walked out of a highschool romance comic and decided to stay and make you question reality. And your sanity. And your dignity. Aaand now you were just staring.
You pulled out the nearest book from the shelf to at least give yourself something to do--”How Donald Trump Thinks”--the title flashed. Great. He just had to choose this moment to flick his eyes up from his laptop screen. Thank the stars you weren’t staring at him like a hawk at that moment while also holding the most questionable volume in the entire library. You felt his gaze follow your movements as you tried as discreetly as possible to replace it and choose something a little less…contentious.
You moved on to the next aisle, still keeping him in your peripheral vision like the stalker you’ve apparently turned out to be. He typed away on his laptop, his focus unwavering except for that one occasional peek to catch you at such an unfortunately timed moment (why couldn’t he have looked up to see you brushing your hair back or something?). You had never seen anyone so focused working in this library before and look so gobsmackingly alluring at the same time. His eyebrows knitted together and lips turned into a little knot of concentration.
“Kids, I have a meeting on the seventh floor,” the librarian’s reality-slap of an announcement jogged you into full-on fight-or-flight mode. “I won’t close the library since there’s just two of you here, but don’t make a mess.” He got up, gathering a few things and walking to the door. He narrowed his eyes at you meaningfully. “I would know.” And you would’ve shrugged it off as just “normal grumpy librarian shenanigans” had he not turned to the only other student in the room and given him a half-friendly wave on the way out.
“Well, ouch,” you muttered, forgetting for a split moment that you weren’t alone.
You heard the mystery student laugh quietly behind you, and suddenly all thoughts about grumpy bookkeeper favoritism flew out the window. “He’s just like that. It took a while before he actually started saying hi back to me.” Maybe because you’re so unbelievably good looking when you smile even an old loner couldn’t--
“So what’s your secret?”
He just shrugged good-naturedly and returned to his laptop screen. You thought with a sigh of partial relief that that was it, but he had the audacity to add in the most deadpan voice, “I told him one of the books was in the wrong place and he lectured me about the intricacies of library organization systems for thirty minutes before realizing I was right.”
He said it so matter-of-factly that it caught you so off-guard. You peeled out in giggles, instinctively muffling them with the back of your hand. He joined you, eyes crinkling at the corners behind his glasses. “So if you ever want to be on good terms with him…there you go.”
Well, hell. Now you were in deep shit. Not only was he smart, he was also observant as fuck for noticing a book in the wrong place in a goddamn library. Which also meant that if you weren’t careful, he’d sus you out soon enough and that would mean the end of your short-lived secret crushing days forever. Because crushing was only fun if they didn’t know about it, right?
But also: being smart and observant as fuck apparently checked off even more things on your stupid list of stupid standards. Wonderful. Better to just stop talking and--
“You must spend a lot of time in this library if you know how things are organized.” Now why. Were you. Still. TALKING?
You turned back to face the shelf to pretend to be a little less interested in his answer than you really were.
“I guess? I mean not more than the average student. I see you pretty often here, too.”
Now. What was that?
WHAT DID HE JUST SAY?
You cleared your throat to keep your voice shaking on the next words. “I mean, yeah, but I never, you know…noticed.” He’d seen you before? He actually knew what you looked like? You’d already been in a room with him? And you never saw him? GOD, you really needed to stop playing Subway Surf and pay closer attention to your surroundings.
He slipped off into focus again, replacing the blue-light-resistant glasses he had taken off at some point while talking to you. Bored of pretending to be interested in furniture books (next to “How Donald Trump Thinks”? Intricacies of library organization systems your ass), you stood on your tiptoes to try and view the selections up on the highest shelf.
You were not, to be frank, a very tall person in comparison to these shelves. You put a hand on the middle shelf to try and boost yourself up. It creaked beneath your added weight, but held. Still not enough. Blast your short people genes. You climbed a little higher, placing a hand on the top shelf to try and finger-curl your way up.
That did not work.
“No, wait--” he jumped out of his chair a fraction of a second too late.
What a cliché. The shelf came down in a terrific tumble, covering you in hardcover coffee table books and odd entrepreneurship guides. Oh, now you’ve done it. The librarian was going to come back and have your head on a stick, and that jaw-clenchingly amazing specimen of a human sitting behind you would be gone before you could ever be associated with him, and--
“Hey, are you okay?” he waved away a cloud of dust before crouching down and pulling books off of you.
“I’m fine,” you managed, having your breath taken from you after surviving a book avalanche and then immediately being attacked by screaming thoughts of WHAT IN THE FUCK could you have done in your past life to end up this close to him and his beautiful, beautiful--
“That doesn’t look fine,” he pointed at your already-bruising forearm.
“This is nothing compared to…that.” you gestured haphazardly at the mess surrounding the both of you.
“You know what we should do, right?” he asked after considering the casualties in a voice an octave lower than a whisper.
“Pay for the damages and clean up?” you tried.
“I think,” he held out his hands and pulled you to your feet a little too easily. “Now is the perfect time to see ourselves out.”
“Yeah. Wait wh--”
He tugged you out of the flood of pages and shelving and out towards the library door.
“Just forgot my--” The librarian stood at the doorway and paused, taking in the sight of two students and the collapsed shelves that framed you. He seethed, nostrils flaring.
“Thank God,” your accomplice blurted, panic and feigned confusion bleeding into his voice. “The shelf just collapsed on them on its own and--”
Fifteen minutes later, you were standing in front of the CCTV replay monitor.
“So… how funny would it be if I told you it didn’t collapse on its own?”
And that’s how two of you ended up in library detention, stuck categorizing check-ins and -outs for the next month, everyday after school. As much as you apologized for the inconvenience to him, pleaded that he should be let off the hook, he assured you that he didn’t mind at all.
And even after that lovely month of Thursdays spent together in the library, you couldn't believe that he still (willingly!) spent his free periods seated across from you, carrying conversations sometimes for the entire hour. You discovered so many things about him. When he told you his name was Jay you broke down laughing because you couldn’t believe you’d lost your mind over a guy named Jay. You found out that he was in the year above you and would be graduating next year even if he was older than the rest of the students in his batch. You learned that he knew so many things about topics you wouldn’t have found interesting at all, and so you spent hours a week just listening to him ramble about teacups or cologne without ever feeling bored.
The fact that he would be graduating next year didn’t really bother you. A year of looking forward to Thursdays didn’t sound too bad. If someone told the you from two years ago that Thursday would become your favorite day of the week, they would have laughed and told you to suck a stick. But just a year of being friends with Thursday? How bad could that be?
"main" is @lovable-squidbrain so don't be surprised if i follow you or like something with a different user lol but i'll use this blog (zzhhbloom) more often to post!
≡ᶻᶻ༄ synopsis: boy next door yang jungwon has always been your best friend, your partner-in-crime, your day one forever homie. but as the years pass, you don’t realize how growing up would change those things you thought would stay the same forever. but maybe they’ll change for the better?
≡ᶻᶻ༄ genre: jungwon x gn! reader || boy next door!au || best friend to lovers!au || fluff and crack sort of
≡ᶻᶻ༄ warnings: brief mention of blood, chin wound, and scar || oc is clumsy asf || this story probably does not make sense
≡ᶻᶻ༄ word count: 3.5k
≡ᶻᶻ༄ a/n: i have no idea what this is…i originally wrote this with jungwon in mind but i wrote it with neutral characters then decided…you know what fuck it. here you go internet, it will probably be gone tomorrow~~
≡ᶻᶻ༄ disclaimer: this does not in any way shape or form resemble the real people whose names are mentioned, this is just a deranged kpoppie trying something new :)
“Give it back!” he yelled at you. You stuck your tongue out over your shoulder, waving Yang Jungwon’s LEGO car in the air.
“Play with me instead!” you retorted.
“Give it back!” he repeated, pelting after you through the halls of your house. “You’re clumsy and you’re gonna break it!”
“No I won’t—”
Spoke too soon. In your cocky carelessness, you tripped over your own toes and landed flat on your face. His LEGO car shattered into a hundred pieces, and you both exploded into tears. Him, because his beloved creation he spent hours working on was reduced to ruins, and you, because you had split your chin open and saw blood splattered on your hands.
“Clumsy!” Jungwon screeched and speared a finger at you.
Your mothers shook their heads at your pathetic heap of tears, blood, and LEGO pieces on the parquet floor. So much for a first playdate.
≡ᶻᶻ༄ synopsis: boy next door yang jungwon has always been your best friend, your partner-in-crime, your day one forever homie. but as the years pass, you don’t realize how growing up would change those things you thought would stay the same forever. but maybe they’ll change for the better?
≡ᶻᶻ༄ genre: jungwon x gn! reader || boy next door!au || best friend to lovers!au || fluff and crack sort of
≡ᶻᶻ༄ warnings: brief mention of blood, chin wound, and scar || oc is clumsy asf || this story probably does not make sense
≡ᶻᶻ༄ word count: 3.5k
≡ᶻᶻ༄ a/n: i have no idea what this is...i originally wrote this with jungwon in mind but i wrote it with neutral characters then decided...you know what fuck it. here you go internet, it will probably be gone tomorrow~~
≡ᶻᶻ༄ disclaimer: this does not in any way shape or form resemble the real people whose names are mentioned, this is just a deranged kpoppie trying something new :)
“Give it back!” he yelled at you. You stuck your tongue out over your shoulder, waving Yang Jungwon’s LEGO car in the air.
“Play with me instead!” you retorted.
“Give it back!” he repeated, pelting after you through the halls of your house. “You’re clumsy and you’re gonna break it!”
“No I won’t—”
Spoke too soon. In your cocky carelessness, you tripped over your own toes and landed flat on your face. His LEGO car shattered into a hundred pieces, and you both exploded into tears. Him, because his beloved creation he spent hours working on was reduced to ruins, and you, because you had split your chin open and saw blood splattered on your hands.
“Clumsy!” Jungwon screeched and speared a finger at you.
Your mothers shook their heads at your pathetic heap of tears, blood, and LEGO pieces on the parquet floor. So much for a first playdate.
“Can I copy your homework?” you begged for the millionth time.
“You can do it on your own,” Jungwon laughed at the sight of you kneeling and rubbing your tiny dirt-stained hands together in front of him. “You answer all the questions the teacher asks in school.”
“Yeah, but I don’t like writing the answers,” you groaned in exasperation, collapsing backward on the carpet of his bedroom floor.
“What if you tell me your answers and I’ll write them for you?” he suggested eagerly. “You just make sure I’m writing everything correctly, okay?”
Thrilled, you picked yourself up from the floor and sat at attention, your faced creased in an exaggerated expression of focus. In between giggles he read out to you the addition problems and you answered in a robotic voice.
“I. Sad. Fif. Teen. Not. Fif. Ty.” You smacked him, mechanically twisting your arm to smack his shoulder, eliciting a stream of giggles out of his mouth as he wriggled out of your reach.
After finishing, you clapped each other’s backs, claiming you’d be the ones to get the gold stars for perfect homework the next day. And you did get perfect homework. Except that Ms. Sunny noticed the handwriting on your sheet was the same on Jungwon’s, and she wouldn’t listen to either of your attempts at an explanation. So that’s how both of you ended up standing in the corner with your hands in the air for the entire recess.
Stifling tears, you hissed, “This is all your fault!”
“You should’ve just done your own homework!” he sniffled in return. “Why is it my fault?”
“I-I know it’s my fault,” you couldn’t keep your voice from cracking as the tears came rolling down again. “I’m-I’m so sorry!”
“No, don’t cry!” Jungwon snapped with tears streaming down his face, too. “It really is your fault!”
“I know, I know!” you hiccupped in between rolling sobs.
You took one look at each other’s red faces and broke into twin wails, wrapping arms around each other in a tearful hug, screaming at the top of your lungs.
“Alright, that’s it!” Ms. Sunny yelped, hands practically cupped over her ears. “Time’s up, get out!”
As if somebody had flipped a switch, you disconnected your arms from each other, tears and hiccups dissipating like fog retreating from the sun.
“Bye, Ms.,” he waved, tears dried.
“See you later!” You chirruped and skipped cheerfully out of the classroom behind Jungwon. He exchanged a look with you once you left the door’s threshold, and you both erupted into giggles at the stunt you just managed to pull.
“Works every time,” you gave him a high five then skipped along to enjoy the rest of your recess with the other kids.
“It’s so unfair,” Jungwon kicked his feet up to the ceiling of the blanket fort you built together. “Why can’t we keep having sleepovers like this?”
“My mom said it’s because we’re getting older.” You answered quietly, flicking the heavy-duty flashlight in your hands on and off. It created large shadows that came and went against the blanket that served as your ceiling. You’d built forts like this as long as you can remember for an eight-year-old, and they always felt like the strongest stone barricades in the world. But now they felt like strips of cloth too useless to even keep the shadows out.
“I don’t get what that has to do with sleepovers,” you continued. “Do they want us to stop playing around and act more grown-up?”
“That doesn’t make sense! My sister is old, but she still gets to go on sleepovers with her friends all the time!” he cried out.
“So why can’t we keep having sleepovers?” you yelled in agreement, lips turning down in a pout.
“Quiet down, you two!” your mother burst into your room in her pajamas, hair in disarray. “You’ll end up waking the entire street up.”
“Again,” you added with a proud smirk.
“Not again,” your mother corrected, shooting daggers at you with her eyes. Then she turned to Jungwon with a soft smile. “If you want a snack just let me know, okay, kiddo?”
“I told you, clumsy,” he chided smugly as your mother left. “They won’t let us have any more sleepovers because I am this close—” he held up his pointer figure and thumb to emphasize his point, then pressed them together leaving no gap in between the digits— “to replacing you in your own family.”
You barked out a laugh and shoved him backwards so hard that he tumbled through the soft walls of your blanket fort. The whole thing collapsed in a magnificent avalanche of comforters, pillows, and plushies. You two sat under it all holding your stomachs in breathless laughter so your mother wouldn’t come back in a merciless rage.
The first real big fight you two had was in the fifth grade. You got carried away playing with some of your friends after school that you completely forgot you were supposed to be at Jungwon’s taekwondo showcase at the gym that afternoon.
You knew how excited and proud he as about it, and so you promised him that you’d be there even when his family couldn’t make it. Even if he didn’t make it obvious, you saw how happy that made him.
It was just so on-brand for you that you lost track of time and completely missed it.
You got to the gym gasping for breath, hands on your knees. “I’m here! Did I make it?” you looked up and saw an empty gym. Empty except for one other person.
Jungwon stood looking down at you, sipping on a juice box. He didn’t say anything as He walked past you like you weren’t even there. Then, just as he was about to leave, he paused to say, “I leveled up, by the way.” Swinging gym doors punctuated his departure, leaving you alone in the giant space that was now twice as empty as it was before.
Jungwon didn’t talk to you for a week after that. Well, it wasn’t just him that was avoiding any sort of interaction. To be fair, you both were avoiding each other. You were too scared to face him again only to have his eyes pass right through you. Kids started wondering why you weren’t talking during breaks like you used to. Your parents started asking how Jungwon was doing because he hadn’t visited the house in days—undoubtedly aware of the tension but figuring out how to bring it up subtly.
A week turned into two.
And on the third day of the third week, you decided you had enough. You were done avoiding and being scared of being avoided. You were going to apologize and make up for things today, no matter what happened. Even if he walked right past you, you could at least say that you tried.
During lunch, you gathered up all your spare pocket money and bought a box of the mango juice you knew was his favorite.
“Is there any strawberry milk left?” you asked hopefully, peering at the chiller for your favorite drink.
“Sorry, sweet, we just sold the last one.”
You handed the canteen lady your money for the mango juice and rushed out of the crowded room, holding the tetra pack in your hands. You scanned the throngs of students, looking for that head of hair you knew like the back of your eyelids. Several times you thought you saw him, only for the figure to be swallowed up in the crowd in the blink of an eye.
In your haste, you didn’t realize your shoelaces had gone and united themselves. You always had a knack for tripping over your own feet at the most unfortunate times. Naturally, you slipped and fell flat on your face. The old scar you had from the time you ran away with his LEGO car would have a twin one of these days if you weren’t going to be more careful.
The students around you moved away like like poles of a magnet. Still determined to find your best friend, you struggled up on your own, picking up the juice box that thankfully hadn’t burst. You didn’t have to keep searching for much longer.
You saw Jungwon in the partition of the students, like a break in the trees. He sat at one of the benches out in front of the field, shaded by an old tree. He cradled something in his lap, but you were too far away to make out what it was. It didn’t matter if he were holding a kitten or a rock to pummel you with, you ran over and prayed he would still be there by the time you came.
You skidded to a stop before him, words flowing in an intangible heap before you could catch your breath. He didn’t say anything immediately. He just let you form shapes and sounds with your mouth that could not have made any sense to anyone, even to you. Yet it seemed like he took in every word.
“I’m so so so so so sorry.” You finally finished, looking down at the juice box you gripped in your sweaty hands. He still didn’t say anything. He only took the juice box from your fingers, poked the straw into the hole and took a long sip. You stared at the tips of your toes, feeling humiliated.
Nobody could say you didn’t try. You bit on your lip to keep from crying, and were about to walk away when his hand floated into your vision, holding out a box of your favorite strawberry milk with the condensation still dripping off the cardboard packaging.
You looked up at his face in surprise and he was already smiling, the plastic straw of his juice box flattened between his teeth.
You were there when Jungwon got dumped for the first time.
Well, you ran there until you couldn’t feel your legs, so you technically were there. You were there for him, at least.
You had been sitting in your room, trying to figure out how to draw hands anatomically correctly when he called you. He didn’t need to say much for you to know what was going on, and what he needed you to do.
“Where are you?” you asked.
“At the park.”
The little playground near your houses that had always been your unofficial meeting place once the sleepovers were banned. You ran out, not even bothering to change out of your house slippers. You got there holding the left one in your hand because it had flown off in your scramble and you were too unbothered to replace it.
Jungwon sat on one of the swings, not even swinging. He just sat there.
You were both in tenth grade already, but up till now, you had never seen Yang Jungwon pass up the opportunity to launch into the air on a perfectly functioning swing set.
“That bad, huh?” you greeted, occupying the swing next to him.
He just shrugged and tried to smile. You felt your own breath quiver. It was hard to believe that the sweet, polite, bubbly friend you’d known for years was the same person sitting next to you now.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked tentatively.
He shook his head with a small smile, letting out a shaky sigh.
You sighed, too. Getting off your own swing, you positioned yourself behind him. “Alright you sad lump, hold on.”
“What are you—?”
With a heave you gave his back a hefty push. But instead of swinging up in the air in happiness and unchecked joy like you intended, he fell forward onto the ground in an undignified heap.
“What was that for?”
“I told you to hold on!” you clapped your hands over your mouth which served the dual purpose of expressing polite shock and hiding the less-excusable reaction of giggling at your friend’s misfortune.
“Can’t believe I got dumped twice in a day.” he muttered, dusting himself off on the ground.
Now you burst out into unapologetic laughter.
He raised an eyebrow at you. “Do you find my pain entertaining, clumsy?”
“Immensely,” you affirmed, wiping away a fake tear.
You came around to help him up from the wet pour rubber. He grasped your outstretched hand with what you mistake for forgiveness.
Oh, how naïve.
With more force than what was strictly necessary, he tugged you down to the ground with him. Unfortunately, of course, he hadn’t aimed the motion properly and so you ended up with your faces inches away from each other.
On any other day, this wouldn’t have bothered you in the slightest. You saw each other’s nappies on day one, so close proximity between you both was nothing out of the ordinary. Sure, you hadn’t been this close in the last five months, two weeks, and five days since he started dating the person who just dumped him, but it still shouldn’t have felt any different now.
And yet…
You jumped up before he could read any of those treacherous thoughts inside your head like you knew he could. You shook yourself, and the feeling disappeared.
“Dumped two times today, huh?” you said as he picked himself up from the ground.
“And dumped on once, so that makes a grand total of three dumpings.” he added.
“You brought that last one on yourself,” you pointed out. He conceded with a smirk that was more like his usual self.
“So…” you fell into step behind him as you both wordlessly agreed it was time for dinner. “Not because I’m competitive or anything—"
“Oh, no, you? Competitive? Never.”
“—But whose dumping hurt more?”
“Yours,” he answered with almost no hesitation. “Yours hurt significantly more.”
You pumped your fists in the air in triumph and skipped ahead in your floppy sliders, dancing around in the middle of the street like a fool. The yellow streetlights caught the lines in his face as he lifted his head up and laughed, the sound clear and unbridled.
You smiled, feeling your cheeks warm. You bowed at the waist, hands swinging downward towards the concrete. “All part of my elaborate plan, your honor.”
“They’re so cute I will literally stuff them in my cheeks for free.”
“Maybe don’t say that in front of their mother?”
The mother cat looked up from her grooming session and gave you a warning glare. You didn’t care. Not with three chunks of her offspring treating your body like a jungle gym. Nothing could beat the sight of these munchkins still wobbly on their tiny paws snuggling on your lap.
You looked up.
Okay. So what if one thing could beat adorable kittens?
Jungwon sat across from you, cradling the runt of the litter in gentle palms. His hands made the weeks-old kitten look even smaller. He tickled its chin until it lifted its head up in pleasure. It mewled at him, and his eyes twinkled.
Over the years, you tried to ignore this feeling in your chest, but it was happening so often it was impossible to ignore now. You cleared your throat and he looked up at you. You nodded over to the fifth kitten that perched itself against his leg and midriff, purring like a motor.
Well doesn’t that look comfortable.
“Thanks again for signing up to foster them,” one of the shelter workers came over from grooming the mama cat and crouched next to you. “We’re always welcoming extra hands around here.”
“Not a problem,” Jungwon said and nodded at you. “We’ve always wanted to help out.”
“That’s so great. How long have you two been together?”
You jerked your head up and prepared to correct her (which you’ve always found yourself doing even when you were in middle school), but for the first time, he beat you to the response. “We’ve known each other since we were pretty much babies,” he held up the little kitten to eye-level. “Not when we were much older than you, huh, little one?”
You’d have to ask Jungwon to repeat to you the instructions the worker gave, because your brain was spinning a thousand miles an hour and you couldn’t even register where your feet were taking you. Did he know what the worker meant when she asked how long you were together? He had to know…right? He wasn’t a naïve little kid anymore.
Now that particular realization hit you like a vacuum. It sucked all the air out of your lungs and left you gasping. The impact was so sudden that you had to stop in your tracks. Jungwon paused in unlocking his car, about to put the cats in the back seat.
He wasn’t a little kid anymore.
And neither were you.
When did that happen? Was it just moments ago when you were both sitting on the ground playing with kittens? Or was that years ago on that evening on the swings? When did the person standing before you now stop being the little kid you once asked to do your homework for you?
“Hello?”
You looked up.
“I’ve been calling your name like 50 times. Let’s go, we have so much to—”
“Why did you answer her like that back there?” you asked.
And of course he knew exactly what you were talking about. He’d always known. “You know, honestly, I didn’t even realize what she meant until after I’d started talking,” he shut the back door gently on the blanket-covered cat cage. “But it still felt normal, so I didn’t say anything after. You know?” He opened the passenger door open for you, and you found it in yourself to move your jelly legs forward.
He closed it, then let himself in the driver’s seat on the other side.
“You know what she was implying, asking that, right?”
“I’m not stupid, clumsy, of course I know,” there was that nickname again that had become more tender to you than you realized. “She was obviously asking how long we’d been neighbors—”
You shoved him with a bark of laughter, and his head thudded slightly against the window.
“Ow! Why are you always so violent? Fine, yes. I didn’t correct her because I maybe sorta kinda liked the idea—”
You were laughing so hard at that point, not because of what he was saying, but because for the first time in a long time you felt like you didn’t have to keep holding back and denying yourself anymore. Maybe you weren’t little kids anymore, but you still could have forever to grow up together.
“Let’s get out of here,” you said in between gasps of laughter. “Our children are tired of living in a cage.”
He gasped exaggeratedly as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Our children? Well aren’t you presumptuous. I don’t want shared custody of your kids just because I said I liked the idea of being together.”
“They are staying in your house because my mom is allergic to cats—”
“—They are staying in my house because your mom is allergic to cats, but that does not mean—”
“I know you love them,” you sang triumphantly, waving at him. “So you can’t say no.” You couldn’t stop smiling for a million different reasons, and you were no longer afraid that your ever-observant best friend (now something more?) would notice and give you a reason to stop.
“I know, I can’t, I love them, they’re adorable,” he conceded in a childish whine. He glanced at you at the corner of his eye. He reached out, his thumb brushing the little scar that still sat on your chin years after your first encounter. “And I love you, too, clumsy.”
You’ve said those words to each other countless times over the years. Just once, you said it to him in a different way when you thought he couldn’t hear. But just like how he could always read your mind no matter how hard you tried to keep your thoughts in order, you could read his just as easily. And you knew now that your sentiment was no longer left unanswered.
hi everyone! after seeing a few float around on tumblr, i really wanted to host an enhypen collab! so, I’m a huge fan of kdramas and since I’ve scene so many in my lifetime I’ve decided to do a kdrama based collab!! :D
ミ★ synopsis: three heavy words. you’re so used to saying this to the one person that’s always been by your side, because you know that he’s your other half; platonically. these words have always held some sort of meaning whenever you say it to vernon, in hopes that maybe one day he’ll say it back to you.
ミ★ genre: best friends to lovers!au, slow burn(ish), fluff, humor
ミ★ warnings: nothing !
ミ★ word count: 5,773
ミ★ pairings: vernon x gender neutral reader
ミ★ notes: hi guys !! sorry for such a long delay, i was super swamped with my midterms and now i have finals coming up wAAAA but here’s my 2 year anniversary oneshot gift !! i haven’t written a vernon oneshot in a long time and i decided that now was the best time to write one! i kinda based this one off of how my bf and i started dating… LMAO. so this one is v cute :] i hope you guys like this one ! make sure to give vernon lots of love <33
