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blossom-hwa · 10 months

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materializes on your blog's metaphorical doorstep hi lina :DD

can i get a uhhhh hanji best friends idiots to lovers au (where he thinks they've been dating for a while and get confused when mc confesses) ??

alright thanks lina :DD

- person who lives in ur walls

to the person living in my walls: please get out of there. it's really cold. at least let me give you a blanket. or accept this idiots to lovers au as a way to get warm idk it's so stupid and fluffy and everyone is an idiot so maybe it'll warm you up idk I'm rambling hope you enjoy

summertime drabble fest: send me an idol from the list (Stray Kids, Ateez, TXT, Seventeen) + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

REQUESTS OPEN!!

Title: Expectations, Complications

Pairing: Jisung x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 2.1k

Genre: fluff, a pinch of angst, best friends to lovers, university!au

Warnings: cursing

The minute Jisung hits play, you know you're fucked.

Okay, no. Backtrack. Rewind. That's not where it starts—it's not even close.

It starts in high school. Senior year, prom. No one asked you out, and no one asked Jisung, so you went with a crowd of your friends and their dates. You drank. You danced. You screamed and laughed and cried at the afterparty, and you ended up on the roof of the party house at four in the morning, drunk and giggly and Jisung's head on your shoulder.

Still one of the best nights of your life, no contest. But it was in one of those moments, when you mumbled something incoherent and Jisung just giggled in response (before the two of you stumbled home together and spent the next morning nursing ridiculous hangovers in your respective houses), that you realized—that Jisung wasn't a friend. Not in the way you'd thought before, at least. That he was something else, something different, a friend and a thousand other things rolled into one—that you were fucked as hell for letting this happen.

But no. Maybe not. Maybe it wasn't then. Not senior year, not prom, but when you finally got your driver's license in sophomore year and drove Jisung out to get boba at your favorite place for the first time. No need to ask a friend for a ride, no need to beg your parents to take you to get your stupid boba fix for the week. Just you, your parents' shittiest car, and Jisung in the passenger seat rolling down the familiar roads to the tiny little cafe, and then sweet drinks in hand with tapioca pearls chewy between your teeth as you watched Jisung laugh loud and hard, his eyes squinted against the afternoon sun. You didn't know, not then, but you did know. Somehow. You didn't but you did, and the image is burned into your mind and it's never once gone away. It never will. And that's how you know you're fucked.

Except—it might not have been then. It could've been middle school, maybe. When someone kicked a soccer ball into your face and Jisung held your hand all the way to the tiny school clinic despite the fact that all middle schoolers thought holding hands was weird and gross. Or it could've been the summer before when you ran to the park together and jumped on the swings, rising higher, higher, higher into the air as the sun burned golden in the sky. Or maybe after the two week long fight you had (the longest one you've ever had, and you don't even remember what it was about) when you couldn't stand it anymore and decided to walk over to Jisung's house to apologize, only to swing open the door and find him on your doorstep first.

It could have been anything. A thousand and one moments in time, spread out over the years that have passed. Elementary school, middle school, high school, your first years of college—boba stores, the mall in your hometown, the neighborhood park—it could have been anything. Any combination. But see, the point is—

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter. None of it does. Not the exact day you knew, not the immediate second you realized, not the sheer length of time during which you've loved your best friend. Because you couldn't give an answer if someone asked, not to a single one of those questions, because with you, it's always been him. He's your beginning, your end. Your start, your finish. Everything you've ever known and wanted, everything you'll ever need.

And so when Jisung hits play and the song he wrote for you begins playing through the headphones you bought him for his last birthday, you know. You've known all along, distantly, but now—

You know well and truly for certain that you are incredibly, irrevocably fucked.

. . . . . There are tears in your eyes when the song finally ends and for a moment, Jisung's heart stops. Tears—what are they for? Happiness? Sadness? He didn't quite think that this song was—sad, per se, but maybe it was sadder than he thought, or too much too fast because after all you've only been dating for four weeks and five days—barely over a month—and god-fucking-damn-it now he's on the verge of hyperventilating because holy shit what if he just made the biggest mistake of his stupid twenty one years of life—

"I'm so sorry," he gasps out.

You turn around in the chair to face him but he can't meet your eyes. "I'm sorry, it was probably such a shitty song, or like I shouldn't have let you hear it now—it's too early and you probably weren't ready I'm so so so so sorry—"

"No!"

The sheer volume of that single word ends his rambling. Which is pretty impressive given that when Jisung is nervous, he tends to talk. And talk and talk and talk. Which is—bad. At least now. Because you're taking a deep breath, way too deep for you to be saying anything good in the next beat, but all Jisung can do now is hold his own breath and pray.

Dear God, if you can hear me, I know I haven't been the best when it comes to believing in you and I'm still mad you didn't hear my prayers last semester right before my Calc II final, but if I've done even a single good thing in my life please don't make it so that I messed this up, not when it's barely been a month since I started dating Y/N.

"Jisung, I..." You take the headphones off, placing them carefully on the desk. Your fingers twist in your lap, a familiar nervous habit of yours that doesn't do much to quell the anxiety building in his throat.

When you don't continue, Jisung opens his mouth. He can't help it. He needs to say something, anything, apologize again and pray that you'll help him forget this ever happened—

"I'm so sorry," you blurt out.

Jisung's heart drops. Shatters on the ground. I'm so sorry. He messed up, he messed up so bad—

"I'm sorry," you repeat, and your eyes are so shiny with tears it hurts. "I—I can't do this anymore."

He tries to speak. To move. Salvage something of this relationship. But nothing happens. Every muscle in him has frozen.

"Jisung, I—" The tears start to spill. "I'm so sorry. I can't do this. I love you, I love you so much and I—it's not just as a friend—"

Wait.

What?

"The song was beautiful." You're properly sobbing now, hands harshly wiping the tears from your eyes as you hunch over in the chair while Jisung still can't move. "Brilliant and lovely and I just—I can't. Because I know you just think we're friends—"

What the fuck.

"—but I can't keep it in anymore, I can't keep just thinking of you as a friend because I love you, I've been in love with you for so long it hurts, and I—I won't be able to stand it if this song was just about our friendship because I—it would hurt too much—"

"Y/N."

Jisung's mouth moves without his brain telling it to. And to his surprise, you stop talking. He hadn't thought he'd quite spoken loud enough for you to hear.

"I—Y/N." All the fear that's been building up since the start of your spiel melts away into pure confusion because—what the fuck? The two of you have been dating for a month now, four weeks and five days—he asked you to dinner and said "it's a date" and you didn't disagree, just smiled so widely and nodded—and he held your hand and you talked for hours and then he walked you to your dorm and—

"Haven't we been dating for a month already?"

You blink. Once. Twice. Three times. Silence stretches for a moment that seems way longer than just a moment, and then you finally open your mouth and utter a single word.

"What?"

Oh, fuck. Now he's panicking. "I—I asked you out, right, like for dinner? A month ago? And then I said 'it's a date' and I—you said yes, I think if I haven't been hallucinating this whole time, and we got dinner and it was a date and then we kept going out—like to the amusement park last week? Just us? Were they—" And now for all his rambling a couple seconds ago, his voice dwindles to a whisper because his throat suddenly hurts and he's not going to be able to stand it if you say no—

"Were they not dates?"

Your mouth opens and closes. At least you've stopped crying, Jisung thinks helplessly.

"I—I thought you meant that as a joke." Your voice is barely a whisper, hoarse and confused and god fucking damn it, Jisung really wants to hug you right now. "I thought—I mean, we get dinner together all the time, we do all these things together, I thought you were just being…normal?"

Oh dear.

Oh fucking dear.

"But it was just us two!" Jisung bursts out. You flinch. Oh, shit. Too loud. "Sorry," he apologizes, hunching into his shoulders. "But—I—it was just us two, all these times. Right?"

You blink about a million times again. "…Right."

"I meant them to be dates," Jisung says miserably. God, he's such a fuck up—how did he fail at asking you out this badly?

You swallow. Your throat bobs once, twice, a third time. "So we've been dating…this whole time?"

Jisung cringes. "I thought we were."

"Oh." You cringe too now, eyes riveted to your fingers twisting tightly in your lap. "Wow. I'm so stupid."

"No, I am." Jisung squeezes his eyes shut, then forces them open again. "Sorry. I should've been clearer—I mean, uh, assuming you still want to date, it's totally okay if you don't I guess—"

"No!"

Jisung freezes. No as in what? You don't want to date? You want to date? He shouldn't have been clearer? What—

"No," you repeat, voice softer now. "I—I really want to date you, Jisung. I really do." Your words are trembling but this time your gaze is steady. "I really, really want to. I'm just—I'm sorry I didn't realize it when you asked the first time."

Jisung laughs nervously. Scratches the back of his neck. "Well, uh, I probably could've asked better. More directly." He cringes. God, he's such a fucking embarrassment. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault I'm dense." You give him a little sheepish smile and Jisung nearly faints, it's so good to see a smile on your face after he just made you cry with a song. "Does that mean…this song…"

Ah. Yeah. "That was a song about you," Jisung says quietly. His ears are probably so, so red. "About how I…I really love you."

In your seat, you remain still for one moment, then two. Then, just as Jisung's about to start screaming out loud instead of just in his head because what if that was too much too soon too, you launch yourself off the chair and into his arms.

"Oof."

"Sorry." Your lips move against his shoulder as his arms automatically slide around your waist, pulling you closer as he always has—since the day so many years ago when you decided to be best friends on the playground and sealed it with a hug. "I love you. A lot. And—" You take a deep breath, shaky in your throat but not with tears this time, just a little bit of a laugh. "I'm sorry I'm so stupid."

Slowly, slowly, Jisung's hand rises up your back. Comes to stop behind your head, holding you as close to him as he can.

"It's okay," he murmurs, a smile finally beginning to curve his own lips. I love you so much. "And, uh. Don't worry." He cringes into you, but it doesn't feel so bad now. Not when he's pressed against your warmth this time and can feel your smile against his shoulder. "I'm a little stupid, too."

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chaerrycake · 1 year

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superboard... with han

You like Jisung, you're very aware of it. Sometimes you want to thank your friend Jiwon for introducing you two, other times you want to curse her for the same reason.

The moment you befriended him you knew you fell for him. The silly skater boy that loves making horrible jokes even if nobody laughs.

Little do you know that he feels the same way towards you.

chapters...

1. (soon)

more to come!!

fluffy and smut content with skater jisung (non idol au). everyone in this fic is in university and they're adults (18+).

best friends to lovers <3. there's some angst but it won't be fully related to jisung, but warnings will always be put before the beginning of the chapter.

reader is a bit self indulgent (sorry), uses she/her pronouns and is afab. nothing is specific about her except from her being the shortest between the characters (though, not necessarily tiny) and having long hair.

little warning: one of reader's friends is in a bit of an unhealthy relationship, although it is not a major thing nor a focus, there's toxic jealousy mentioned. again, warnings will be put at the beginning of each chapter!

it won't be a very long series, i don't have the specific amount of chapters YET ! but i assume it will be maximum 10 chapters.

since this has smut i kindly ask minors to not interact!! not every chapter will be smutty, but please don't interact with the series as a whole!

lastly, ageless & empty blogs dni !

reblog & feedback is very much appreciated <3

superboard tag list: @heyitsjayeee @http-hxn @muddy-waters

regular taglist: @hwajin (let me know if you wanna join)

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baby-yongbok · 1 month

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Boyfriend SKZ!Fake Texts - They have a wet dream about you

Genre: Smut, fairly detailed. Like, its dirty

Warnings: mentions of unprotected sex (wear a rubber, yall), breeding (? - if you squint and only for Jeongin's), Jeongin is a tad bit possessive, It gets more dirty the further you get.

✧ Masterlist ✧

Chan

Lee Know/Minho

Changbin

Hyunjin

Han

Felix

Seungmin

I.N

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forlix · 4 months

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· . ˚ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞

— the little mannerisms you pick up from the members of stray kids over the course of your relationship.

words・3.7k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / genres・fluff, humor, borderline crack, intentional lowercase, established relationship(s) / warnings・minsung’s are suggestive, touch of anxiety in felix's, jeongin's is lowkey gross LMFAO

a/n・massive shoutout to @/http.dwaekkii on tiktok for their edits about the boys' habits, which i consulted for chan, changbin, seungmin, and jeongin (and to @astraystayyh for beta reading hehe. what would i do without u). these were sooooo fun to write, hope u guys enjoy (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )

chan + getting shy easily. poor thing gets embarrassed so quickly as it is. throw you into the mix and it’s just critical hit after critical hit. defense lowered. no health potions left. he folds like a lawn chair with a massive smile and a whiny “stooooop” every time you say something even remotely affectionate. the habit is adorable, and you love it to pieces.

but you like poking fun at it even more. “god forbid i find my literal underwear model of a boyfriend attractive,” you’d say, or something along those lines, which of course only triples his embarrassment and on more than one occasion results in him starfishing on your kitchen floor, his hood pulled over his face.

fast forward however many months. he’s still the worst compliment-receiver you know, but you discover one arbitrary afternoon that it’s rubbed off on you.

the two of you are cuddled together on the living room couch in your usual fashion, your legs thrown over his thighs and his hands tracing absently over your shins as you relay to him something you overheard on the subway. the conversation is painfully normal. you’re almost bored. you pause to take a breath, and he murmurs, out of nowhere, in the dreamiest tone: “so damn beautiful.”

“wha—huh? what is?”

“you. your voice, your face, everything. i‘m lucky.”

your expression of bewilderment persists for around ten seconds, and then slowly, so slowly, you begin to sandwich your head between your knees, balling yourself up like a spooked armadillo. chan wonders if he should call an ambulance.

“love?” no response. “what, uh, what’s happening right now, exactly?”

no response. no response. then, hoarsely, “you can’t...say shit like that…randomly.”

he notices two things after that. one, your skin is burning hot enough to fry something upon, and two, you’ve formed a fist in the fabric of his hoodie, which you only do when you’re pretending to be annoyed at him. the puzzle pieces fall into place, and he starts grinning like a madman.

“you’re…embarrassed?”

the guttural groan you emit is more than enough of an answer, and the cute aggression that overcomes chan is fucking debilitating. he wraps his arms around you and hauls you entirely off the couch and onto his lap, littering kisses over your face until it finally resigns into a matching smile. all intent to continue feigning grumpiness erased with the drop of a hat. you drape an arm over his neck.

“you’re so good to me, channie,” you sigh helplessly. “i love you.”

“love you more, baby.” he imprints these words directly upon your lips, then pulls away, giggles. “that was very me of you, by the way.”

“i know, right? i was just about to say.”

minho + butt touching. it’s quite simple, really. if lee minho is within proximity of someone’s buttocks, he will, as he lives and breathes, make it known. will it be a coy little swat or a yelp-eliciting, full-bodied grab? nobody ever knows, not even him. the unpredictability is what makes it exciting.

but it takes a while before this starts applying to you, because the way minho touches you is…different. doting. there’s no other way to describe how he always holds the nape of your neck while kissing you, how he rests a hand against the small of your back whenever he leads you somewhere, how during the nights you can’t sleep he guides you to the place on his chest where he knows his heartbeat is loudest. he even drags you into his trademark headlocks the same way one would hold an invaluable treasure. he’s so obsessed with all of you that he never thinks to pay just your butt special attention (though it is, indeed, a special butt).

you take it into your own hands. literally.

you don’t know what prompts it—maybe you’ve simply seen minho slap his members’ asses one too many times, or maybe you’re still thinking of the specific time minho slapped changbin’s ass in passing and it fucking echoed, or maybe minho just looks especially fine in this practice outfit, a skintight tee and washed sweatpants that hug him in all the right places—but you feel a new urge today as your boyfriend swings his duffel over his shoulder, circles around the kitchen counter.

he puckers up as he nears you, silently requesting his goodbye; you give it to him, relishing for a moment in the familiar, soft plush of his lips beneath yours. then he pulls away and turns to leave, and your hand acquires its target.

“go get ‘em, tiger.” thwack!

minho jumps a foot into the air. clutches his pearls and his left butt cheek. becomes the splitting image of that perplexed blonde lady surrounded by geometry.

but when he turns around to stare at you, the smirk melting across his face betrays how he really feels about what you’ve just done. good. really good.

you, meanwhile, look genuinely confused. “it’s like it moved on its own.”

minho beams. steps towards you daintily, intentionally, like a cat catching sight of a laser beam. brings a hand to your hip, murmurs, “that’s what we’re doing now?” kisses you again, for longer this time.

you fully foresee his fingers wandering to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze, but you reach up to cuff his shoulder when it happens anyways, and his laugh vibrates against your mouth. it seems you’ll be reaping what you’ve sown from now on.

(good luck.)

changbin + the Cackle™. yes, you said something exceptionally funny. yes, you expected changbin to find it funny too. but you couldn’t expect the godforsaken noise that left his mouth as he threw himself straight into the tree planter behind you.

your mind spun with frantic questions as you helped him out of the dirt. had the spirit of spongebob just usurped his vocal cords? were you on a date with the wicked witch of the west? most importantly—

“are you well?” you sputtered, which only made him laugh harder and his laugh so much crazier, so you started laughing, too. and you were goners, falling over each other until you’d been reduced to watery eyes and sore cheeks, your giggling interrupted only by the sound of you slapping his thigh every so often, heartily enough to reverberate around the little park in which you concluded your second date.

that’s how you fall for seo changbin: laughing. with a reckless, breathless abandon you didn’t think possible. stumbling across empty sidewalks, spitting noodles across dining tables, begging for mercy on studio couches. wrestling under tear-stained comforters, starting (and re-starting) silly stories, huffing into beaming kisses. the list goes on.

you never quite get used to that chortle of his, too busy enjoying its insanity to notice how your own chuckles grow shorter and shriller, how they gradually develop an edge like the chittering of a forest dweller.

you complete your transformation on your ninety-eighth date.

no, changbin doesn’t say anything exceptionally funny. no, he doesn’t expect you to find it funny, either. he expects least of all for you to fold over the kitchen island and start cackling like cruella de vil on helium.

han turns around from his seat on the couch. chan’s footsteps come to a halt as he emerges from the bathroom. both of them have fear in their eyes as they witness your undoing.

the only thing on changbin’s face, though, is unfettered delight.

“b-baby,” he sputters with a growing smile. “are you—”

you lift your face off the marble surface and turn to face him. the entirety of your forehead and the point of your nose is covered in flour. you blow a cloud of the stuff out of your mouth like a dragon awoken from slumber.

he loses it.

the two of you make your way onto the floor in slow motion, ending in a tangled heap against the side of the counter. changbin tries to clean off the flour and smears it all over your cheeks instead. you are zero help whatsoever, smacking his bicep like that’ll help you catch your breath. your synchronized, diabolical laughter reaches every corner of the apartment. your happiness reaches every nerve ending.

chan and han look at each other, sigh. han takes a video.

hyunjin + side-eyeing. this man is so god awful at controlling his face, bless him…and DAMN HIM.

on one hand, you love how in tune with his emotions he is, how confidently he puts them on display. and you love your synergy. you come closer to believing in soulmates every time you glance his way and discover your exact feelings written all over his features; it’s a special type of happiness, sharing a brain with your favorite person in the world.

on the other hand, you think there’s a time and place for candor, and he tends, well, not to think at all. during many a precarious situation, you’ll catch him wearing an expression so transparent that he might as well arrange the words THIS IS STUPID AND I HATE ALL OF YOU over his head in neon lights. cue a dig of your heel into his toe, a hiss of pain cut short by your piercing glare. if you’d known ahead of time that dating hwang hyunjin would have you doing so much damage control…you’d still date him, let’s be real. but you do get stressed at times.

the night the tables turn, you’re at a celebratory dinner for your coworker’s birthday. small caveat: you can’t stand her. she’s the type to spontaneously combust if she goes two minutes without talking about herself. certainly doesn’t help that she’s downing champagne like water, and her lips are looser than ever.

hyunjin comes with you, fortunately. or not. he spends the whole evening trying so hard not to laugh: snorting into his bread, excusing himself to “cough.” you think he actually starts doing breathing exercises at some point. you’re so, so grateful that he’s here, but you’re also deathly afraid that he’s gonna bring out those neon lights in front of your entire office.

then, she flirts with him.

from the opposite end of the table. perfectly wasted but still knowing perfectly well that he’s yours. the whole patio goes silent. hyunjin’s jaw hits the table.

your fork clatters to your plate.

FUCK time and place.

the side-eye you give her is devastating. truly masterful. your brow furrows. your eyes turn to slits. your gaze does the up-down-up of unadulterated incredulity. hyunjin recognizes the motions straightaway and starts smiling so hard his whole face hurts.

you take your boyfriend’s wrist and stand up. he follows suit. you don’t say a thing as you leave the restaurant, and you don’t have to. the intensity of your disdain was more than enough; anything more and she might’ve started crying.

once you’re on the curb outside, hyunjin pulls on your interlocked hands, brings you close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear. you hear laughter and his smirk in his voice.

“you’re so fucking sexy, holy shit.”

jisung + how he applies lip balm. that han jisung is the pioneer of modern day babygirlism is the worst kept secret in the world. that han jisung applies lip balm the riveting way he does, however, is unknown even to you. until one morning.

you pop into the bathroom and make your usual beeline for your toothbrush, only to end up motionless in front of the sink, staring. jisung is a bit off to the side, hair pinned back by a cinnamoroll headband, eyes glued to his phone, hand holding a tube of chapstick that you can actually see getting shorter in real time. he looks so pensive, so concentrated. how long has it been since he last blinked? you’ve half a mind to pull out a stopwatch.

finally, he rubs his lips together, recaps the chapstick, and makes eye contact with you in the mirror. a smile crosses his face, equal parts confused and amused.

“baby, your mouth is open.”

you close it. then you open it again, and your words come out in a barely-contained laugh: “what on earth did you just do?”

“what do you mean?”

“the—” you point at his mouth, then do your best impression of an elementary schooler trying to color inside the lines. “—that.”

jisung looks aghast. “that was LIP BALM.”

“no, i know what it—you’re so—i meant, why do you apply it like that?”

jisung continues to look aghast. “like what?”

“like you’re one of socrates’ prized pupils and the answer to the universe’s formation lies at the bottom of—” you step in close, reach into the pocket of his sweatpants. “—this tube!”

it might be the craziest thing you’ve ever said to him. he bursts into laughter, the kind that leaves him no recollection of what he does with his limbs, and when he can see straight again he discovers he’s pressed you gently against the counter. his fingers latched around the hem of your top, his grin inches away from yours. can’t stay away from you to save his life, this one.

“do i actually?”

“yes! holy shit, it’s so cute.” your arms circle around his neck, also without an ounce of thought, also through a fit of giggles. “no way you’ve always done that, right?”

“i don’t know. i’ve never thought about it.” a pause. a tilt of his head, with purpose. “am i…doing it wrong?”

the question is a trap and you realize it too late. your gaze drops from his eyes to his lips—a ray of sunlight glistens off the pink plush like a paid actor—then back to his eyes. let’s find out.

you lean in. so does he. and his mouth tastes and feels like melted fucking sugar. it’s such a pleasant surprise that you actually moan, and he chuckles against you. lifts you onto the edge of the sink. your mind really goes empty after that, save for one thought. i have to start doing that.

felix + checking his own pulse. you saw it from afar, the first time.

he stood by the stage’s entrance just before curtain up, pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of his neck. eyelids sealed closed, chest heaving. you tilted your head, puzzled. worried. then the concert began, and you pushed the image to the back of your mind.

it returned to the forefront right before bed.

“you do it when you’re nervous?”

“yeah. forces me to ground myself. turns off the world for a bit.” the hand rubbing circles into your back paused. “wanna give it a go?”

“what, checking my pulse?”

“mine.”

you lifted your head off the pillow. felix took your hand from where it sat upon his ribs, isolating two fingers and nestling them over his jugular. his quickened heartbeat pressed into your skin like the world’s gentlest tattoo.

the sixty seconds began and concluded in total silence.

“well?” he whispered.

“ninety-three,” you answered, lightheaded from the sheer intimacy of it all. “you’re nervous right now?”

“something like that,” he hummed. pulled you down, kissed you deeply. there were no more words exchanged that night.

the habit surfaced more than you knew. while driving to visit your parents. after a stupid argument with a bouquet of flowers tucked beneath his free arm. you started doing it for him in the times he couldn’t, and he’d cover your hand with his own and kiss the top of your head silently, gratefully.

two years have passed since, and you’ve vanished from the dinner table.

felix asks the nearest waiter for directions to the restrooms. you don’t notice when the door swings open, unmoving in your spot over the sink, your pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of your neck.

his hand finds your hip. you let him turn you around and bring you to his chest; he glances at the crystalline droplets studding your lashes and falling from your cheeks. his eyes convey what his mouth doesn’t need to, not anymore.

let me.

you do.

his fingers replace yours the moment you drop them from under your jaw, the movement like clockwork. he counts your every heartbeat with unblinking concentration, his heart growing heavier the higher the number climbs.

the sixty seconds begin and conclude in total silence.

“well?” you whisper.

“hundred and six,” he answers. to his confusion, a smile pulls at your lips.

he wonders if it’s a trick of the bathroom lights when he sees the tiny box you pluck from your pocket, but there’s no mistaking the reality of the diamond ring that sits behind its open lid.

the earth slants under his feet.

“crazy.” you giggle through your tears, run your thumb over his cheekbone. “that’s how many years i want with you.”

seungmin + poking eyes(?) he’s hardly touched puppym when your voice is slicing through the living room air like a fucking beyblade.

“KIM SEUNGMIN, UNHAND HIM THIS INSTANT.”

do you have a sixth sense just for this? he throws his hands up in exasperation. “he’s literally me. i’m allowed to do whatever i want with me.”

“he’s not you, he’s our son.” you pop out of nowhere to swipe the plushie from over your boyfriend’s shoulder. “my son, if you keep this up.”

“just say you hate me and my preferred avenues of self expression.”

upside-down, he watches you dust off puppym’s face and smooch his forehead with a tenderness that makes seungmin unhappier than he lets on. you then tuck him into your jacket pocket. the little shit’s expression looks strangely smug poking out of its cotton capsule.

“i’m asking you to not gauge his eyes out, not to deliver me the holy grail,” you say. “you’ll survive.”

but then he feels your hands on either side of his face, and you lean over him like the mj to his peter, leave a kiss on the space between his eyes, too. he has zero say in the bashful smile this brings to his face.

“but why do you do that, seriously?” you mutter.

“i have no idea,” he replies. “but it’s fun. try it.”

“i’ll think about it.” you lean in again, and he nearly forgets what you were talking about in the first place when you kiss him on the lips this time. “okay, i’ve thought about it. no.”

“hate you,” he says despite the literal hearts in his eyes, and then you’re off to work.

puppym takes strikingly after his father. they have the same bangs. the same compulsively squeezable quality. the same little :3 that can only allude to sinister plottings. you’d be loath to admit that you sort of comprehend seungmin’s poking predisposition.

one night, seungmin falls asleep before you even finish your nighttime routine, and you spot in his peaceful, upturned face an opportunity.

you lie belly-down on your side of the bed. your fingers splay into a peace-sign in the air. your smile stretches further into a cheshire grin the closer you bring your hand. you’re just about to reach the ends of his eyelashes when—

“I KNEW IT!”

you almost catapult into the ceiling. then you try to make a mad dash for the bathroom. but seungmin shoots a hand around your wrist like he’s actually peter parker and pins you down before you so much as take a step. your only remaining option is to sulk about your foiled plans. (and blush, because, well, you’re under him.)

“amateur,” he tsks. “you gotta test my breathing to make sure i’m asleep first. shit’s foolproof.”

you blink at him for a few seconds. his words finally click.

now you almost catapult him into the ceiling.

“HOW MANY TIMES?”

jeongin + eating food in one bite. so you might be an instigator.

“hwuck,” he grumbles around the whole ice cream cone in his mouth, face scrunched up in a brain-freeze-induced wince. “ayee ith waz a bah iyeah.” (translation: fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.)

“you got this. just take it slow,” you urge, except he’s stopped moving and speaking and closed his eyes as if he’s descending into a deep sleep. you’re actually concerned for about two seconds, and then his jaw begins to oscillate leisurely like an elderly cow in his favorite pasture. false alarm.

after some time, he swallows, beams. “so am i the fucking best or what.”

“yeah you are,” you echo, and he swings an arm over your shoulder, plants a chocolatey kiss on your temple. the two of you celebrate his daesangs with less enthusiasm.

“when are you doing that with me, by the way?”

“the one-bite thing?” he nods. “mmm, coaches don’t play.”

“mmm, this one will.”

“doubtful.”

fast forward a few weeks and you, jeongin, and his younger brother are sitting cross-legged on the porch in his backyard. three full-sized oranges rest in the center of your makeshift circle. damn is yoon hard to say no to. (runs in the family.)

“the rules!” he declares. “eat the orange whole! first to swallow it wins! you can’t spit it out!”

you wait. “is that it?”

“yes!”

why was the delivery so grand?

jeongin places a fond hand atop his brother’s head. “i’ve brought you a new loser, yoonie. get excited.”

you feign an indifferent scoff, but jeongin spots the fire that ignites behind your eyes like that of an anime protagonist, the resolute grip with which you palm your orange. he smirks. he’s never known you to take trash talk sitting down. or sitting cross-legged on his porch.

yoon counts you off. “ready…”

“good luck, coach,” jeongin sings.

“shut up, pipsqueak.”

“set…GO!”

in amusing unison, you and yoon try and fail to fasten your teeth around even half of the fruit. jeongin, meanwhile, fits the whole thing into his black hole of an oral cavity and launches into that dumb cow impression again.

desperate times call for desperate measures.

you rip the orange from your lips. “yoon! your brother’s ticklish, right?”

both yang siblings’ eyes widen—the younger’s in growing delight, the older’s in impending horror.

the latter reacts first. “ay, ay, ay, ah ahes eh ooles!” (translation: wait, wait, wait, that’s against the rules!)

but the former moves first, and you’re right behind him.

jeongin weakens when the younger boy assaults his sides, crumples when you target the back of his neck, the sounds leaving his mouth getting progressively louder and somehow even less intelligible.

he eventually has to spit out the orange to avoid death by pulp going down the wrong pipe and spins around in indignation, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand. but his annoyance—

you’re back on the floor, gnawing hopelessly at the the orange again. “ih ih eawahin, ooh.” (translation: this is embarrassing, yoon.)

yoon replies, “huh?” (translation: huh?)

—dissipates, immediately.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp ・ @automaticpersonabatpaper

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wegc · 4 months

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𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⊹ . . . FAKE TEXTS ! PRINCESS TREATMENT WITH STRAY KIDS !

PAIRING: OT8 X READER

WARNINGS: swearing, semi-nsfw for jisung and jeongin, mostly fluff

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ꩜⋆ hi, my name is iris and this is my first post on this account hehe. i write for stray kids only and am a mostly nsfw blog. if you plan on following me, please note that my blog is 18+. i hope you guys like this ! feel free to give feedback and reveal your thoughts in my inbox <3

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luvyeni · 4 months

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ʚ : SKZ TEXTING YOU "WHAT POSITION YALL IN?" ₊̣ !

— cw. mentions of sex , suggestive language

authors note. this was a request but i had to delete the post cost it wasnt letting me upload anything.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

©️LUVYENI

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iwassupremacy · 1 month

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Accidentally sexting bestfriend!Stray kids

Stray kids x reader

Fake texts!

Warnings: suggestive, maybe even smutty? Idk there’s no actual action but like… it’s very specific, mentions of: oral (f and m receiving), daddy kink, dom and sub dynamics, finger fucking, sending nudes (don’t be stupid guys; at least never show your face or noticeable traits!)

Bang Chan

Lee Minho

Seo Changbin

Hwang Hyunjin

Han Jisung

Lee Felix

Kim Seungmin

Yang Jeongin

Let me know what you think! This is my first time posting something like this and only my second post in general, so I would really appreciate some feedback and interaction

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daaawnnn · 5 months

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maybe, i like you

skz reaction: request - Hii I loved your post I was wondering if u could do a fake texts “them finding out from another member that u have a crush on them” thankyou and have a good day💕💕

pairing: bsf!skz x gn!reader

warnings: none?

©daaawnnn

reblogs are appreciated!

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wooahaes · 5 months

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skz - forgetting to kiss them

pairing: non-idol!skz x gn!reader

prompt: u forget to kiss them hello when u come home

genre: fluff!! just silly fluff

warnings: food mentions :3 + intentional lowercase & no proofreading.

daisy's notes: couldnt b me. id never stop greeting them w kisses. no one look at how long jisung's is i was particularly delulu when i wrote it

bang chan

chris noticed... almost immediately that was off about you. the embarrassing part was that it was partially due to the fact you didn't greet him with your usual "hi, i'm home" kiss.

it wasn't that chris looked forward to that kiss (he did, but that wasn't the point). he liked to think he was just... attuned to you. that he could feel the general vibe you had whenever you entered a room. he wasn't missing your "i'm home" kiss--he was merely noticing that you weren't feeling great. that something was weighing on your mind. so he called out as he heard you go back to the kitchen to get something to drink, asking about your day.

immediately, he heard you let out a long sigh. "work was awful and then i missed my bus so i had to take a cab."

chris nodded. "ah. gotcha."

you made your way over, sitting down next to him. "... did i do something?" you looked over toward the door, trying to retrace your steps. you hadn't slammed the door, and you hadn't been too late coming home...

"nah!" he looked over, "i mean, you kinda didn't give me a kiss when you came home. figured something was wrong."

you stared at him for a moment. did you really always give him a kiss when you came home? you liked to, because it was your own little way of saying "hi, i missed you," to him with just a quick peck. after a moment, you leaned in, pressing a quick peck against the corner of his lips before planting another on his lips proper.

"there," you giggled. "is that better?"

judging by the way chris giggled back, pulling you in for a third... maybe not. (but it wasn't as if you were going to complain.)

lee minho

usually, minho didn't mind whether you kissed him or not. he'd always enjoy your kisses, and found it endearing that you pressed a quick kiss against his lips whenever you came home, but he never asked nor would he ever force you to do it. sometimes he'd kiss you as a greeting, though, just because he liked to see your smile.

other times, when he was feeling a little more devious... he'd call out to you, just like he did tonight. "you forgot something!"

you came back into the room, shirt half-unbuttoned as you'd been in the middle of changing. you furrowed your brow, pouting a little as you tried to figure out what was wrong.

he just smiled at you. "you did."

a moment later, it hit you. you snorted, and made your way over, pulling him in for a kiss that lasted a few seconds longer than the usual one you usually gave him. your hands fell to his shoulders, and you drew back. "there. is that better?"

"i missed you," he giggled. "is that so wrong?"

you rolled your eyes, and gave him another peck on the tip of his nose. "love you, too, you dork," you said, pulling away from him to go change.

(and the sound of your laugh as you continued away despite the way he lunged to grab at you, just barely missing your ass... all minho could do was smile to himself.)

seo changbin

changbin was a reasonable guy. he waited a reasonable amount of time (ten minutes: you said you weren't going to shower or anything yet) before approaching you in the kitchen. "are you mad?"

you looked up from where you were working on dinner. he was so genuine about the question, and it threw you for a loop. had you done something to imply that you were...? all you did was get started on dinner because it was your night to cook. "what?"

"we always talk about these things," he said with a sigh. he crossed his arms, leaning against the counter, eyes bearing into your own, "did i do something? you can tell me if i did. it's okay."

"binnie, honey, i have no idea what you're talking about."

"really?" he frowned, and gave you this look of disbelief. "you always give me a kiss when you come home, and today, you didn't. do i need to run to the store? did i forget something--"

oh! you almost laughed at how adorable he could be sometimes. "nope," you said, reaching forward to pull him in. "just got distracted when i got home." ever so casually, you kissed him, and planted an extra on the corner of his mouth. "good to know you'd miss my kisses, though."

changbin just pulled you in again with a giggle, content to steal a few more from you before he let you go... for now.

hwang hyunjin

hyunjin didn't notice at first. he'd been curled up on the couch with a book when you came home, carrying a few bags of groceries that you insisted on handling yourself since they were for tonight's dinner. it was your night to cook after all, and--after asking to make sure you didn't want help--he settled back into his spot.

and then it hit him eventually: you... didn't kiss him when you came home. why didn't you kiss him? you always went out of your way to do it, after all. he leaned up, looking over to where he could see you deeply concentrating on the recipe you were reading. then again, you had set down the groceries and lounged around for a little bit first--the two of you had even talked during that. maybe you were mad at him? he knew he'd been petty about things before and denied you kisses as a result. maybe he was the one who was supposed buy groceries...? but you didn't give him a list or text him anything...

"honey?" he called out.

immediately, it caught you attention. 'honey' wasn't really his usual term of endearment for some reason: you were always his love, his baby. "what's wrong?"

his face grew warmer--was it really that concerning? "nothing--" he started, but realized that you only grew more concerned. "you didn't kiss me when you came home."

"oh."

he decided to keep going, "did i do something--"

"if you want it," you cut him off, "then come get it."

he just stared at you. "... what?"

"i was thinking about dinner," you said, turning back to what you were cooking. "but if you want that kiss, you'll have to come get it."

hyunjin found himself smiling, pushing aside his blanket and the book to get up and make his way over to you. he kissed you, smiling into it as well, as his hands fell to rest on your waist.

all better.

han jisung

jisung was not afraid to admit that he was deeply in love with you. and sometimes... that meant he'd overthink the little things. his heart was so full of devotion to you that sometimes he'd get too deep in his own head, trying not to do anything to wrong you. of course, he knew you, and he knew that you'd always accommodate him by telling him things outright. if he hurt you, you pointed it out and asked for space so that the two of you talk things out properly when both of you were ready for it. but today you were sitting at the other end of the couch, a pillow hugged against your chest as the two of you watched TV. or, well, you watched TV. jisung was watching you.

"hey." his foot bumped against your leg. "did something happen today?"

you tore your gaze away from the screen, brows drawing together. "no?" yet you continued to watch him for a moment, eyes scanning his face for anything that would give him away. "are you okay?"

he nodded. even that confused 'no?' was enough to soothe his thoughts. you would be honest with him, after all: that was what the two of you did. he settled into the couch. "i'm fine," he said, hoping it sounded casual enough.

yet you tilted your head, as if trying to get a better look at him. "baby?" you set the pillow onto the floor, moving a little closer. "did i forget something?"

he grew flustered immediately. "it's okay--it's not a big deal--"

"ohh," you lit up, smiling as you already knew. he liked the twinkle in your eyes whenever you knew something. "i know what it was." you crawled over to him, teasing him a little, "my jisungie didn't get his kiss today--"

he found himself unable to fight back a smile. "it's not a big deal, honey--"

"nope!" you giggled, and practically launched yourself at him. he'd end up pinned against the couch, "gotta make up for it with extra kisses for worrying my jisungie."

god, he loved you. you peppered kisses all over his face despite his laughter, slightly pushing back against where your hands were at his wrists to try and re-ground himself better against the couch, yet you didn't let go. sure, maybe you were hamming it up and acting extra cute for him... but he knew what this was. it was a message, loud and clear, that you cared about him wholeheartedly. you knew he could get anxious sometimes, especially when it came to potentially accidentally upsetting you. 'i want to make you happy' was what you told him once. he hoped you could feel the way he smiled into the soft kiss you pressed against his lips. when you drew back, you just stayed there, hovering over him and admiring how the glow of happiness looked on him.

"i'm home," you said.

jisung just brushed a stray strand of hair away. yeah... you are his home.

lee felix

as much as felix wanted to whine at you playfully for forgetting to kiss him when you came home (a staple of your relationship, he'd joke)... he couldn't help but worry. he continued to work at dinner, mentally going over your interactions today. he knew you well enough to know that he hadn't done anything to upset you unless you were having an off day where everything annoyed you (no shame in it, he thought; he had those days, too). it wasn't until after he finished making dinner that he called out to you.

"did something happen today?"

you looked up, brows drawn together, but he could see the fatigue on your face from stressing about something. "no?"

he set aside what he was doing, making his way over to where you were sitting, laptop open in front of you. you changed tabs immediately away from whatever you were doing for work right as felix began to knead at your shoulders.

"this is cheating," you whined, head dipping back so you could see his face.

"and i'd do it again," he said, dipping down to plant a quick peck against your forehead. "you can talk if you need to. i don't mind listening."

with a sigh, you shut your eyes while felix continued to massage your shoulders. sure enough, there was someone you had to deal with at work that had annoyed you enough that you were still running through the conversations hours later. he just stood there, listening and nodding along as he continued to work his magic on your tense muscles.

when you finished, he leaned down to press another quick kiss against your lips. "feeling better?"

"a lot, actually," you sat straighter in your chair, reaching forward to close your laptop. "thank you, lixie."

kim seungmin

seungmin had sat on the couch for too damn long, pretending that everything was fine. yes, you didn't kiss him when you came home, but that didn't mean anything. clearly, it didn't mean anything. except maybe you were mad at him, and you were withholding a stupid kiss because of it instead of talking it out like adults. that was what the two of you agreed on: no going to bed mad. to say that you were mad and needed space. not... whatever this is.

"seungmin?" you had sat down at the other end of the couch. "what's eating you?"

his eyes were a little too sharp when he looked at you, frustration all too evident on his face when he was supposed to be hiding it. "that's what i should be asking you."

and then... genuine, unfiltered confusion. your brows drew together as you watched him, smile falling. oh.

fuck. you weren't mad at him.

"never mind," he says quickly, "it's stupid--"

you moved over so that you could reach out and take one of his hands in your own, "seungminnie, it's not stupid if it's bothering you!"

ah. using cuteness to get what you wanted. unfair. "you didn't kiss me when you came home like you always do, so i thought you were mad. so then i got made because we agreed to always talk things out."

immediately, you giggled. "aw, seungmin... you really like my kisses that much?"

when you leaned forward to kiss him, he immediately shrank away, trying to block your mouth from his own. "no! not now! it's not the same now!"

yet your laugh was enough to make him drop the act. your lips pressed against his, and he smiled into the kiss, happy to have your arms around him... even if you'd never let him live this down.

yang jeongin

jeongin considered himself one of the more mature people in his friend group. sure, he could be silly and goof off sometimes, but he'd heard his other friends with partners complain about the tiniest things that turned out to be nothing. so with you, he felt a little comfortable in assuming that your "i'm home" kiss just slipped your mind. you'd texted him your bus was running late, so he'd decided to make you a cup of tea for when you came in. and when you threw yourself onto the couch, saying nothing to him for a while...

well, jeongin had a pretty strong feeling that you needed someone to listen to you instead. he'd sat down next to you, passing you the mug as he leaned in to press a quick peck against your lips. his own little "welcome home" kiss that he'd try to greet you with sometimes, if given the chance.

"do you want to talk about it?"

he watched as you took a long sip of tea, letting out a sigh once you'd set the mug down. "work sucked."

jeongin nodded. "and your bus was late..."

another heavy sigh. you turned your face to look at him, reaching for his hand. he gave it to you without any teasing, and watched as you pressed a kiss against his knuckles.

"are you sure it's fine for me to unload all of this on you?"

"that's what i'm here for," he hummed, sliding in a little closer so that he could draw you closer. "you listen to me, right?"

the hint of a smile ghosted over your lips, and jeongin watched as you settled in, head resting on his shoulder. "right..."

he just pressed another kiss into your hair as you launched into telling him about your day. no need for you to worry about giving him any 'i'm home' kisses: jeongin would supply you with as many 'welcome home' kisses as you needed to make you smile again.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @jinnie-ret @cheesemonky

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hyunverse · 1 month

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texts you receive when you're asleep ☆ ot8 skz

text fics. stray kids ot8 x gn!reader. humour, fluff. no warnings.

BANG CHAN, LEE KNOW.

CHANGBIN, HYUNJIN.

HAN, FELIX.

SEUNGMIN, I.N.

taglist: @zoe8stay , @starlostseungmin , @bakugossanity , @hwajin , @sleepyleeji , @skizzel-reblogs , @bbujiikseu , @byjeekies , @jdopes-recorder , @sherryblossom , @strayingawayy , @cb97whoree , @alyszaen , @aaliyahxsx , @jeonginsyoungestsibling , @hyunluvxo , @bokk-minnie , @ghostyycat7 , @fortunatelyhertragedy @yongbokkari @ameliesaysshoo @seoli-16 @jisungsdaydreamer @soobnny @seolboba @in2heartz

networks: @straykidsland @k-labels @kflixnet @skzstarnet

#stray kids x reader #stray kids text fics #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han x reader #han jisung x reader #felix x reader #lee felix x reader #seungmin x reader #i.n x reader #jeongin x reader #stray kids crack #skz x reader #skz text fics #skz texts #skz smau

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nobodyeverasked · 2 years

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shine; han jisung

(10,510 words) - large

summary ➣ Y/N and Jisung, mutual admirers turned project partners, meet at a dramatic impasse when Y/N’s admiration and yearning to prove himself conflicts with Jisung’s inner frustrations and struggles. When they meet each other again half a year later, all of the emotions they held back rise to the surface, for better or for worse.

genre ➣ fluff ( + angst )

requested - 👍

.・゜-: ✧ :- .・゜-: ✧ :- -: ✧ :-゜・. -: ✧ :-゜・．

Y/N shifted in his new seat as his English teacher rearranged the class’ seating positions for their upcoming group project, everyone pushed back or moved up or plucked away from that blessed window seat to be put next to their partners or group members. An entanglement of mixed feelings spanned across the room and tripped up the terse silence between all the students, some pairings and groups being made of friends and people they know they can get an easy A with, and others reluctant, mere victims of circumstance stitched together by poor strikes of chance. Conversation was sparse, ideas and attempts to work gained wings for only a moment before landing in a heap in the middle of the room.

Y/N and his single partner for the project, Han Jisung, were somewhere in the middle, straddling that line between feeling glad to not be with anyone else and already building up contempt for not getting paired up with the few people they knew in class. They knew each other in a peripheral sense, never by interactions but just by what others told them about each other in wandering conversation - the most they really knew about each other was their names and that was it.

Despite how little they knew of each other, though, there was this gravity Jisung held in his hands that Y/N felt himself slipping into each time he let his haphazard gaze wander over to Jisung. Sometimes their shoes would bump together and they would straighten up in their seats with a start, bringing their feet back only to have it happen over and over again. Y/N and Jisung existed on two different planes within the school’s little, embarrassingly condensed universe, yet with the few instances Y/N found himself staring, getting lost in Jisung’s pure magnetism left him considering all he caught of Jisung so far.

Jisung was so careless and effortless, yet composed in a way that didn’t really make sense to Y/N given how unhinged Jisung gets across the cafeteria at lunch. Y/N heard rumours passed throughout hallways and from back rows of classrooms that Jisung was training to become an idol under JYP, and Y/N instantly felt this unknown impulse, a nameless attraction, pull him closer to Jisung in ways he didn’t notice until their awkwardly, wordlessly colliding gazes would linger and make Y/N think about how long he’s truly admired Jisung from afar.

Y/N has always wanted to commit to a life of performing, singing and dancing for as long as he could remember. And hearing about Jisung’s hard work - burning circles into dance classroom floors, reducing his spare hours to ash as he’s always hop straight from one project to the next, dedicating so much to creating songs, spilling lyrics over pages that nobody would see but him - it inspired Y/N to do the same.

Now that he was face to face with Jisung, brought together by an English project of all things, all these thoughts and feelings and half-baked aspirations Y/N’s been close to casting away began to bubble up in Y/N, and he felt this overwhelming need to be seen, too.

“Hi…” Y/N finally managed to say, holding up his hand in a rigid, clumsy wave. He noticed it a little too late and brought his hand back down, only to have his knuckles knock against the edge of the desk. His wince of embarrassment soon loosened into a smile as Jisung chuckled stiffly, mimicking Y/N’s greeting with a friendly grin of his own.

“Hi.” Jisung’s voice was light, weightless, and carried itself above the cluttered noise of the classroom, yet enough to leave an impression on Y/N. It was exactly how Y/N heard it in shrieks across lunchroom tables, yet it held this intimacy in it as if they’ve known each other for years. They have to a certain extent, they’ve known of each other in an abstract way that was barely enough to hold onto, yet it was knowledge nevertheless. “I guess we should get started on this project, huh?”

“I mean, I guess.” Y/N shrugged with a chuckle that attempted to heave this palpable awkwardness from off their shoulders. In some moments, it was there, glaring right back at them like an irritating trick of the afternoon sunlight, and in other moments it wasn’t - like whenever Y/N caught Jisung’s stare wandering across him from the corner of his eye. There was a tension that seemed as if anybody could barrel through but them, but that was to be expected when Y/N’s finally placed in front of he’s thought of in nothing but scraps, stolen glances, and small doses on the frayed edges of an already hectic school life. “We could head to the library after class? Maybe the books around us could make us feel smarter.”

“An impressive technique, for sure.” Jisung felt his smiles loosening around the corners, brightening in a natural way that relieved him. Unbeknownst to Y/N, Jisung wanted to know him too, to see more than the loose fit of his school uniform and the back of his head in classes or hallways. There was this intrigue about Y/N that left Jisung’s eyes always finding Y/N’s figure in a crowd, wanting to take that step closer. Maybe it was the shimmer in his eyes whenever Jisung could catch them looking elsewhere from across the cafeteria; possibly the song of Y/N’s voice whenever he’d answer a question. Jisung didn’t know, but he found himself taking the slightest hints of comfort out of the staleness in the air between them. “I should use that sometime.”

“I’m telling you, ambience is everything.” Y/N felt a knot in his chest, a hesitance in his tightened posture against the seat, slowly unravelling.

“Let’s go then,” Jisung was barely able to stop himself from taking Y/N by the hand he hit against the table and dragging him out of the classroom that second. It was the way Y/N’s voice lilted so sweetly, the way his eyes lit up as if a sense of caution snapped and set him free. A breath of relief washed over them and they felt their shoes touch beneath the table, but they didn’t move them. “How about I give you my number, just in case the flood of seniors leaves us stranded?”

They both shuddered at the mere thought of their last period’s bell that left them in this fight for survival against waves of senior students. Almost every day, they were swept up by a current of all the upper class-people - pressed linen, plaid blazers, and a rush of final-year-of-school-induced cynicism leaving Y/N sometimes on the other side of their school’s campus if he fought too hard or not enough against them. They thought a little more about the glances they tried to steal at each other at the end of their English classes before they were separated; how often they really tried to find each other for one last, split second.

Y/N tried not to fumble too much with his phone as he handed it over to Jisung to punch his number in, and couldn’t help but let a little smile peak through his bitten lips as he realized that he went from admiring Jisung from afar to having his number locked into his phone in a blink of an eye, a flicker of sunlight, and a nod from their English teacher. “That sounds perfect, because I know for a fact that I’ll end up anywhere but at the library.” Jisung handed Y/N’s phone back with a knowing chuckle, their fingertips brushing only slightly. From the faint touch between them, Jisung already felt his smile growing at the delicate warmth of Y/N’s hands.

“It’s honestly best not to fight it,” Jisung chuckled, steepling his fingers under his chin and propping his elbows up on the desk all in an effort to hold himself back from finding another excuse to feel Y/N’s fingertips against his. He didn’t quite understand how quickly they managed to leap across the stages of their conversation, from being stuck in a motionless reluctance to the movement of ease that manifested between them. Yet, he was thankful for it, as somehow all those miniscule hopes of being able to know Y/N in more than flashes in classrooms were met and exceeded by how haphazardly charming he was. Y/N was everything Jisung expected and more.

“Oh, trust me, I know that resistance is futile.” Y/N held up his hands and rolled his eyes with a smile when he heard another one of Jisung’s chuckles - an affirmation that he wasn’t completely fumbling with his words.

“We are but specks in the vast emptiness of space.” Jisung assumed this mockingly cynical tone, and they felt their laughter beat even harder at those around them that seemed to catch all their words, actions, ideas, feelings, thoughts. Not even ten minutes into meeting each other and they were already finding ways to get lost in their own world, dismiss everything else around them.

“I mean yeah, but I’m also a speck with Han Jisung’s number in my phone.” Y/N tripped over his words only slightly, and offered a smile to hide the thought and weight behind his words. He saw Jisung’s expression soften and almost let out a sigh of relief, continuing with an unabashed, careless sweetness in his voice. “So… I’ll take the little victories.”

“And I’m gonna have the one and only Y/N texting me that he’s lost; so I’ll take the wins as they come, too.” That borderline flirty tone emerged and drowned out Jisung’s voice too. His eyes took on this glimmer of happiness and his eyebrow coyly arched as he nodded cooly to the phone Y/N still held in his nearly trembling hand.

The silence between them shifted into something so much more manageable, and they welcomed the cool breath of the pale overhead lighting inching its way between their sheepish, bitten-lipped smiles and their lingering gazes that wandered across each other near-shamelessly now. Both he and Jisung were trapped in this trance, fallen deeply into the unexplored coasts of each other and willing to stand in those soothing, gently rippling waters forever; however, they were wrenched out of this blissful trance rather unceremoniously by the shrill cry of the school bell. Jisung could almost hear it cackle, mocking them and the weightless infatuation that fluttered about in his stomach.

As the ringing of the bell popped their bubble and left them staggering for words as they rushed to pack up their things, Y/N shuffled against his seat with a start, failing to realize how long they hung in the air like that, for how long they silently stared at each other in this wordlessness that lit scarlet flushes under their cheeks. It was as if they melted into each other, and Y/N felt himself beaming at the fact that it managed to happen so seamlessly.

“I guess we shall march into the fray now.” Y/N shrugged, doing his best to pick his words up from off the ground as he trained his eyes on the ground - he took sudden interest in the scuff marks on the tile as the merciless burn of his blush settled into his cheeks, clung to his skin. All of that looking at the ground, doing anything to avert his eyes away from Jisung, and he failed to notice the pencil he dropped on the ground in the midst of his rush to pack up his things.

“I’ll see you on the other side.” Jisung bent down with a princely bow to pluck Y/N’s pencil from off the ground, and with a suave shuffle closer to Y/N and a sly smile - one Jisung would find himself dumbfounded by minutes later on his way to the library, wondering how he could’ve managed it without bursting into sparks - he tucked the pencil into the front pocket of Y/N’s uniform blazer. His voice was cheeky, bright, yet low as it wrapped around them like candlelight. It made Y/N almost shiver. “Safe travels.”

They were on their way out, nearly splitting up, until Y/N finally found it in himself to say as they rounded their respective corners and dove into the mass of passing students:

“No promises.”

The voyage to the library was less perilous than other days, and Y/N - with butterflies still fluttering about in his stomach, leaving his breath tripping over itself - thought that maybe it was the universe heeding his silent pleas to meet Jisung at the time they were too busy looking into each other’s eyes to properly discuss. He just wanted to see Jisung again, and the slight smattering of students in the hall as he made his way to the main foyer and pushed through the doors of the library seemed to Y/N like a sign that the weight in their gazes meant something, it had to.

He found Jisung at a small studying table that was wedged between an aisle of bookshelves, and barely hesitated to pull up a chair and scoot into his proper place across from him. Y/N barely gave a second thought to it all, and began to wonder about how, barely even half an hour ago, they were hesitant to even greet each other and were barely prepared to adjust to each other’s existence. Now, here Y/N was, stumbling into Jisung’s line of sight as if it was part of an everyday routine.

“Hey.”

Jisung looked up with a smile, instantly putting some of his biology textbooks away as Y/N sat down to make space for the papers their English teacher gave them for their project. Spreading the papers about the table, Jisung shook his head with a chuckle buried under his breath, thinking about how it took their English teacher and a tedious project about narrative studies to bring them together from opposite ends of the social world. With the way they gravitated so helplessly and easily toward one another, it was a shock that they didn’t take this step sooner.

“Hey…” Y/N pulled out his books as well, finding it increasingly difficult to stare at anything but the shimmer in Jisung’s eyes. He’s been waiting for a project like this, and with the way they’ve been able to be so easily in each other’s space, as well as with how talented Jisung is at almost anything - Y/N’s paid witness to Jisung’s many abilities in and out of the classroom - he knows for a fact that this project is going to be but a star in the sky for them. “So, do you have any ideas about the project? I already have a few ideas that I think are gonna work.”

“Getting into it already, huh? We weren't gonna talk about it?” Jisung chuckled, finally looking over the instructions at the top of their pages. Usually he’d be on top of the instructions, already coming up with a couple concepts by the time he was out the door, and finishing his rough draft by the time the moonlight swept up his neighbourhood. However, he was so distracted by Y/N and their unfolding conversation that he barely paid any attention to the fac that they received a project at all.

“I dunno, I just had ideas that I know have worked from other classes I’ve done well in.” in Y/N’s voice lingered this tinge of sheepishness that made Jisung remember that Y/N wasn’t the only one in this school with a reputation that precedes them. “I’ve been waiting for a project like this for a while. Haven’t you?”

Despite Y/N wanting to remain modest in the school’s halls and keeping his expectations of popularity low, everyone knew who Y/N was due to his accolades and achievements. He strived for greatness and excelled at anything he set his mind to, and Jisung felt himself growing a little envious of how easily things seemed to come to Y/N. That envy rippled within him whenever he least expected it, and Jisung never necessarily noticed it before until now - Y/N was always beyond arm’s length, further away than a shuffle of his shoes against Y/N’s own, to realize that he was jealous at all.

Jisung felt it creeping up inside him so suddenly, a wave of bitterness clawed itself up the shore and tore away that bright sweetness that left them flushed, stumbling and chuckling not more than an hour ago. His smile slowly began to fade, and as he felt its corners loosen, pull themselves down, he failed to notice Y/N looking toward him for a response to something Jisung didn’t hear him say. He felt so guilty, they were shining bright smiles at each other, and those few moments with Y/N stirred something in him that he hasn’t felt for anyone before - the last thing he wanted to do was to act on this jealousy or even let it fester like this.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Jisung said, nodding toward the page and wincing as Y/N turned his head and wrote a few things down. The things Y/N has done were a simple reminder that a lot of Jisung’s efforts just didn’t seem to be enough . With the ease and grace with which Y/N received his success - Jisung paying witness to Y/N’s accolades over the years of drifting by his nova and taking in sunlight as he passed - there were many times where Jisung would sit defeated at his desk and think about how it wasn’t worth it.

This sudden urge flooded through Jisung, burst in his veins and ran through him in sparks. He needed to prove himself - he’s spent so long trying to prove himself - and watching how seamlessly Y/N was pulling their group project together made Jisung want to do something, anything to show that he could do it too. He glanced over Y/N’s scrawling in the middle of the page, saw a few bubbles with different types of approaches to the themes in their recent assigned readings.

“How about we do a comparative analysis?” Jisung hastily stitched his words together. He watched as something stirred behind Y/N’s pensive expression and waited eagerly for him. He could see how enthusiastic this project made Y/N.

“Why? That makes literally no sense.” Y/N’s voice was flat yet driven as he stared off into the space between the bookshelves and flipped the pencil between his fingers. He couldn’t see Jisung deflating in the seat across from him out of the corner of his eye, and he failed to notice how the air between and around them seemed to change so drastically, so quickly. The endearing awkwardness of their first meeting shifted into something tense, sour tasting, and unbearably suffocating by a few jumbled thoughts in Jisung’s head. “A comparative analysis is for when there are actual opposing themes, I think we should go for something else.”

This has happened more than once, Y/N stepping up to overshadow Jisung’s ideas with ones that were so much better. It always managed to happen during times whenever Y/N was in his thoughts - Y/N being better than him at all the sports in gym class, edging him out in those small competitions their teachers held in their classes, getting better grades, raising his hand to gently correct whatever Jisung would be chastised for answering in class. It was subtle yet not - for Y/N, it was a clumsy cry for attention to prove to Jisung that he could be as good as him at anything; however, for Jisung, it was a reminder of how much Jisung still needed to learn, and how he wasn’t learning fast enough.

It just seemed to seep into everything Y/N said and did, bitterness washed over Jisung so easily it almost shocked him. All of this regret for letting his thoughts consume him, yet he couldn’t stop them no matter how he thrashed against the waves of growing resentment, jealousy and aggravation in the way Y/N’s feats and successes were shoved in his face.

What Y/N said was something to steer their minds in the correct direction, but Jisung took it as something more than it was. Y/N was excited to do this with Jisung, especially because of their conversation in the classroom, which was a crossing of stars and a jumpstart to the skipped beats of his heart. He admired Jisung so much, and because of that, he wanted to do anything he could to show Jisung that he was just as driven and hard working as him. And now that they’ve become so close so quickly - or so Y/N was still convinced - he couldn’t wait to tell Jisung that hearing about him training under JYP to perform encouraged Y/N to do the same and find ways to hone his skills in performing.

As Y/N’s voice died out and received nothing but a contemptuous silence from the other end of the desk, he finally took a step back and felt the tension now grown between them like weeds. He didn’t know where to place it, how to describe it, but it weighed heavily on him, pressed in on him, and made this cautiousness that drove him restless when he and Jisung first met seep back into every one of his actions. There was something about the way Jisung looked at him now, not with this comforting fondness, but in a wary, pensive, complicated light that made Y/N wonder if that moment they shared in the classroom was real.

Y/N cleared his throat, desperate to bend the silence in any way he could. “Anyway, uhm… I- I heard that you’re training at JYP now…?” Y/N tread lightly, scrounging up as much of that timid fire that flashed between them as possible. He wanted to hold on to that shine of starlight, that brief but unmistakable glint in every one of their sideways smiles and arched eyebrows. Y/N felt the tension ease under him just a little bit, and he could see the sporadic softening of Jisung’s gaze as he looked up - it was as if Jisung was holding something back, dealing with thought that just dawned on him. Maybe that was what managed to shift them so drastically. With a breath, Y/N continued: “That’s really cool, I’ve seen you working hard.”

“Yeah, I have.” Jisung caught onto his words and how bitterness seemed to singe the edges of them. If Y/N looked shocked or hurt by the way Jisung said his words, Jisung couldn’t tell - at least not on the surface. Y/N looked almost unresponsive, in between thoughts as Jisung felt himself leaning back and crossing his arms defensively. “I’ve been working ‘really’ hard, actually. For years now…”

“Oh… Okay…” Was all Y/N could muster, confused by Jisung’s reponses, but not necessarily as surprised as he thought he would be. Y/N supposed that he was coming on a little too strong with wanting to prove himself with this project - maybe his correction was the one thing that tipped Jisung over the edge. Feeling the tension swell around them like humid, suffocating heat, Y/N cut himself short of anything else he was going to say and simply ducked away and focused on the paper between them. He jotted down a few ideas lightly, but aside from that couldn’t think of anything else. “Cool.”

Y/N cut himself short on all the other things he was going to say. How he was already auditioning for multiple big companies who saw his potential - and more importantly, how Jisung’s hard work inspired him to do so. He was also going to tell Jisung that with the help of Hyunjin, one of Jisung’s fellow trainees, Y/N was able to get scouted by one company in particular that was already prepared to give him a spot in their boy group. Y/N wanted to rave with a smile about how he would start training in the summer, after the school year ends, when everything is settled with his group, assets, budgeting, staff, and the rest. But he didn’t say anything… He didn’t know if saying anything else would rock the boat even more and leave them soaking wet in whatever strangling tension they left each other in.

So they remained as they were, Y/N scratching down ideas for their project, and Jisung sitting back with his arms folded, pride and ego torn in scraps around him as he thought about how this project so easily brought them together, and how his rampaging, relentless thoughts split them so easily apart.

Their admiration for each other sat forlorn in the classroom where they last remembered that it existed.

Han Jisung found himself on the frayed ends of yet another sleepless night, reeling and seeing stars even long after they'd burned out in the night sky after another merciless, gruelling practice session between him and his reflection in the mirrors. The JYP practice room’s walls feel less and less like a home the longer he spends with nothing but looping music to keep him grounded. Every breath Jisung let out crumbled to the scuffed laminate flooring below his unsteady feet; they wavered and shattered under the weight of the pale overhead lighting that was almost as worn and tired as he was - but he couldn’t afford to let the scars of his exhaustion overtake him just yet. Not until he was finally debuting, on that stage with a microphone in his hand and his own music rumbling the stage beneath him.

He restlessly circled the room, hanging by tangled threads of leftover moonlight as he could practically feel the blue glow of the dawn bleeding into the night sky.

It was like this every time, the darkness of his spare hours seeping into the cracks in his resolve, the weathered tears in his aching body, and the fissures in his heart. The shadows of each of his over-memorized dance steps, the afterburn of his practice music running circles around him - it all chases him down and burrows beneath his surface like a snide remark that can never leave his side. No matter when he’d pull his phone from the speaker’s chords or if he’s on the verge of collapsing in his little universe of smudged mirrors and soundproof walls, the space between that he can do and everything he can’t do haunts him every step of the way.

With every critique he bludgeons himself with, he always managed to think of Y/N and the last conversation they had together - and the morsels of interactions that soon fizzled out into the indifference that they never carried for each other. Between them, it was always this half-baked admiration based on things they heard in hallways and through dregs of classroom gossip, but nothing more. And now, how they felt about each other was this incongruous mixture of things they didn’t know how to say and emotions they didn’t quite know how to feel - wrapped up and strangled by the tension that still looms over Jisung’s shoulder every now and then from that afternoon in the library.

It was resentment, jealousy, bitterness, guilt, the struggle of both sides of himself to give both of them the benefit of the doubt. But in the end he just couldn’t… He couldn’t see Y/N without feeling an irritation bubble up in him with how easily Y/N succeeded at things, with how, on his surface, he was this epitome of perfection that always seemed to edge out all of Jisung’s hard work. The tension he left them in that day was scorching and insufferable to the point where, in a tangle of excuses and muttered apologies, Y/N left the table with his head hung low - thoughts and questions weighing heavily on him of how things could’ve gone so wrong, no doubt.

As Jisung was left with the paper that Y/N scrawled his ideas on, and nothing but a silhouette of carved sunlight where Y/N once sat, Jisung was met with a muddled rationality and too much contempt and envy that he knew what to do with. Even the remains of afternoon sunlight Y/N left Jisung to play restlessly with as he left shone brighter than Jisung ever seemed to at the time, and with that, despite all of the admiration that was still fighting for attention in Jisung’s chest, Jisung barely even followed Y/N’s steps on his way out of the library, and paid little mind to the knot of relief and guilt that tightened in his stomach as he heard the whine of the library doors close.

There were a couple instances after that where their gazes met across the classroom, or where they brushed against each other in cafeteria lines or in assembly halls. Jisung could faintly remember Y/N trying to start conversation, but giving up halfway through the moment he realized that Jisung had no intention of speaking; he wanted, so badly, so say something, anything, in order to make that agonizing strain in Y/N’s eyes fade to the light that drew him in in the first place - but there was also a part of him that knew he was going to let something slip if he did nothing less than smile cordially and move on.

That pained, yet still hopeful expression on Y/N’s face that Jisung caught as he walked away hurt him more and more every time.

Jisung rested his head against the mirror, feeling it’s coolness sear into his skin as he thought about Y/N’s attempts to text him, exchange a look across the hallway, all faded into nothing - no more texts, no more smiles, not even a cordial nod in the hallway just knowing that Jisung would bite back his contempt and leave Y/N to fumble with his words. Y/N didn’t see the point anymore, and sought to salvage what was left of his admiration, whatever parts of his heart he lent toward those few moments he had with Jisung in that classroom.

Before any more guilt, exhaustion, confusion and conflict could swallow Jisung up and submerged him even deeper in his own thoughts, Jisung perked up as he heard laughter and conversation spreading throughout the hallway - both of the voices sounded so familiar, teetering on the edge of Jisung’s recognition. And Jisung’s deep breaths only collapsed into an even louder sigh as they stopped in front of the practice room door and showed their faces - one of them, anyway. One of them was Hyunjin, someone he’s had a rather tumultuous relationship with recently, but as they’ve neared their debut date, they’ve come to see each other’s side of things and have been patching up their rather rough history.

Hyunjin was smiling brightly at the other, who had their back turned to him, yet their voice was familiar in a way that left Jisung feeling nothing in particular - a more fuzzy, out-of-focus feeling that left him as disoriented as his feelings about Y/N were.

Hyunjin looked up and over the other person’s shoulder for a second, and the brilliance of their smile only shone even brighter as he locked his eyes with Jisung’s. At this change in Hyunjin’s face, even the texture of his words, the other person turned around, and their eyes went wide as they found none other than Jisung on the other end of their gaze.

It was Y/N, wrapped up in one of the old hoodies he would always change into during their last period gym classes in their senior year. Jisung froze, and thought about how Y/N seemed to grow so much and not at all at the same time. Jisung’s mouth hung ajar, and Hyunjin hesitantly followed in Y/N’s reckless footsteps through the open doorway, closer to Jisung in a trance he could barely control himself.

“Hey…” Y/N’s voice was still the same in all the ways that Jisung found both mesmerizing and grating - sweet yet sharp, bright and blinding. And as he made his way closer, Jisung tried his best not to think about all the things that stirred within him whenever he met the light in Y/N’s eyes - those intelligent, observant, glittering eyes.

“Hi.” Jisung kept it curt, short, something he would’ve said when they would bump into each other post-library-incident. The tension between them, that emptiness that Jisung thought about whenever Y/N surfaced in his thoughts, flooded right back into the room as if Jisung hadn’t spent hours trying to forget the way their interactions now made him feel, what their interactions made him remember.

“Wow, isn’t this riveting…” Hyunjin said after a moment’s too long of confused silence. “I didn’t know you knew Jisung, Y/N.”

“Y-yeah, I do.” Y/N didn’t know whether to look at Jisung or not - if he was going to return his gaze or if he was just going to leave his stare empty like he did all throughout the rest of their junior year. He didn’t wait for any ascent, for any approving silence this time, and turned to Jisung, both taking him in all at once and trying to barely acknowledge that he was there. To Jisung, it looked as if Y/N was looking through him even as he looked back into Y/N’s eyes. “It’s been a white, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it has…” Was all Jisung could say, not realizing how difficult it would be to hold Y/N’s gaze in his own after such a long time of looking the other way, dismissing him. To an extent, it was too much to take, finding Y/N here in the center of his practice room, his little broken world nestled in the far corner of the JYP building where all the noise simultaneously ceased and never stopped. An overwhelming fervour cut Jisung’s words short and clumsily, and watched as Y/N perked up at the sound of his voice.

“How are you?” Y/N’s voice drifted in the space between him and Jisung for a while, and the longer Jisung left it to linger, the further the space between them seemed to stretch. It all reeled back in with a stretch as Jisung took a step forward, tracing over the weathered, nearly bursting seams of all the contempt he held within himself - he thought his silence, plugging his earphones in over the school’s PA to ignore Y/N receiving another accolade he just beat Jisung out on, shoving Y/N into the dark recesses of his thoughts, would’ve helped.

But now he was here, fighting back everything Y/N was able to spark in him - that resentment, that bitter, blistering resentment, jealousy and frustration all bubbling up yet again at the sight of Y/N’s careless smile. He was so tired of Y/N always putting himself out there - out there in Jisung’s way, he was so tired of Y/N grinning at him, reassuring him and complimenting him. It all felt like a condescending pat on the head, all of the ways Y/N was so relentlessly kind to him.

Why did he have to be here? Why did Hyunjin have to bring him here? Why did SM have to accept him? Why did he always seem to claim all his flowers without needing to bleed and cry for them?

“What?” Jisung mustered, feeling the bile of all his sleepless nights, cruel patterns of constant practicing, straining until his voice shattered and thinking about how, if he failed, he had nothing to fall back on.

Y/N’s voice was shrivelled now. He could see this fire raging in Jisung’s eyes but didn’t know what to make of it. It aligned with all the ways Jisung constantly swatted him away like some pest, but he could never figure out why this all seemed to start. All he wanted was to befriend someone he admired, maybe be even more than that. But now here he was, reaching out stupidly into the jaws of a beast that he apparently awakened.

If only he knew that he had actually awakened it…

“I… I said ‘how are you’? It’s been a long time since we last spoke and stuff, and I see that you’re still working hard-”

“Yes, yes I am.” Jisung didn’t care to hold back the sharpness in his tone anymore, and clenched his fists at his sides. His eyes wildfire, scorching every inch of the room and withering the cruel, pallid lights above to mere cinders. “And I see that I’m still working hard while you’re getting whatever you want.”

He could feel it all coming up in one fell swoop, a massive torrent of emotion that nearly drove him to tears already. He could already see how hurt Y/N was but his words, he could see Y/N fumble over himself and step back - but he wanted to keep going.

“What…?” Y/N’s confusion made its way out in a pitiful whimper, and looked back to Hyunjin and could see him stunned, nearly frozen as well. He looked back to Jisung, nearly dragged against his will by the sheer gravity of Jisung’s intense glare.

“Jisung, what the-” Hyunjin was about to put in, but Jisung’s jagged, furious voice rose over his, submerged it.

“There’s a reason why we stopped talking, you know. There was a reason why I shoved you aside and didn’t want anything to do with you, and that’s because you’re a reminder of all the torment I put myself through, okay!? You get anything you want at your very whim, you can walk into a room and smile and the world would be yours, but what about me!? You always edge me out and beat me by a sliver for doing nothing, while I give up all of me to do the things that I love - you would clamour for attention and always outshine me, and I know for a fact that it’s always been on purpose. ALWAYS! You’re always in my face, deliberately proving me wrong just so you can be right and you’re always there to steal anybody’s shine the moment there’s a possibility of someone being better than you at something.” Jisung felt his breath seeping out of him and read Y/N’s motionlessly shocked expression. He hated how hurt Y/N seemed to be, when he was the one who was hurting everyone else. “I figured that out a little too late, I guess. And that project just proved to me that you look for ways to make people smaller than you. I’m done feeling small - I don’t need your help to think of all the ways I need to tear myself apart to get half as far as where you can in a single step.”

Jisung let out all the breath he still held hostage at the base of his lungs, his very benign trembling with all the frustration he just let out. However, it all seemed to fizzle away in an instant as he watched Y/N’s face twist up into something he didn’t quite expect. It wasn’t acceptance or guilt, but it was this suffocating, saturated sadness that permeated the room - a true understanding of every word that Jisung said and how everything Y/N did made Jisung feel the way he did.

There was this sharp pang of guilt in Jisung’s stomach, wrenching in him like a lodged blade. He thought he’d feel better, triumphant even, but he couldn’t help but feel that there was something to feel sorry about. It was as if he missed something in the way he said everything, and he couldn’t help but feel himself tremble for a different reason now, shuffle toward Y/N not out of fury, but out of this sudden desire to reach out and hold Y/N’s own restlessly fidgeting hands.

Y/N looked out to Jisung and felt the room close in on him - he was stupefied, frozen in utter shock. Everything Jisung said seemed to make so much more sense the longer Y/N let the heat of Jisung’s anger scorch his skin and drown him in flames. The slow trail of growing silence after their incident at the library; that sudden shift from touching the tips of their shoes under the table to Y/N pressing himself to the back of the chair, shuffling on eggshells as he monitored Jisung’s serrated, pointed tone with no way to explain it. It made so much sense, and placed reason into gaps in all of Y/N’s useless wondering and thinking about what he’s done wrong all this time - all this clarity and yet it also left Y/N muddled in a new knot of emotions.

This regret began to swallow Y/N whole as he realized that all the ways he earnestly tried to prove himself to Jisung were taken as nothing but a threat to all of Jisung’s hard work, a way to make him feel small and bolster Y/N’s own supposedly insatiable ego, yet another academic conquest with the ruins of Jisung’s dignity in his wake… The regret bloomed, and this hopeless sense of defeat hit him square in the chest, leaving him lost for words.

Y/N was confused, sad, sorry, and still thinking - and knowing - what he could’ve done, said or haven’t said, to have made it better. He didn’t know how all of his cries for Jisung’s attention could have turned so sour and left Jisung scowling at everything he did. But it happened, and Y/N was left with the fallout of all Jisung’s contempt through unanswered texts, drifting gazes and silent treatments in the hallway.

“I…” Y/N could feel his voice sinking to the bottom of his throat, the weight of everything Jisung bearing down on him. He could almost feel himself shatter as he wrapped his arms around himself, keeping his eyes off Jisung more for his own sake than anyone else’s. “I didn’t mean…”

He didn’t know what to say as he could practically feel Jisung inch toward him, pushing his way through the tangle of emotions pulled taut between them. Jisung felt something drop, the last frayed tendrils of a rope finally snapping after he said what he did. He thought he’d feel relieved, but all the forces within him made him feel nothing but this looming regret as if he had gotten something wrong, as if all of Y/N’s actions were lost in translation.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way, I didn’t mean anything like that…” The heat of Y/N’s tears was blistering, searing as they trickled down his cheeks - a storm of stomach-churning shock he just couldn’t control. “I… I’m sorry.”

“Wait, what- Y/N.” Before Jisung knew it, he was throwing an arm out to catch Y/N’s wrist before he could turn away from him. “What do you mean- what’s that supposed to mean?”

Jisung’s silence was frantic, and Y/N found everything he couldn’t say began to pile up, tremble and spill out of him. “I just… I really admired you, Jisung. I was so inspired by you, so a lot of the things I did and said were to show you that I could be as good as you. I wanted to impress you, and to prove to you that I had what it took to be just like you…” Y/N hung his head, he still couldn’t figure out how his expression of all his pure admiration could have gone so sideways, how all of his visions of Jisung’s grandeur could’ve done the exact opposite and made him feel small. His scramble for attention seemed like nothing but ego and selfishness, and Y/N felt a sense of shame flourish in him like a sharp pain. “I really liked you… But I guess I did nothing but make things worse, so I’ll leave you alone… I promise…”

With that Y/N turned around again and pulled his wrist free of Jisung’s wavering grip with a weak, feeble tug. Jisung felt his mouth wrench itself shut, it’s been agape this whole time after hearing what was practically a confession. How could he have interpreted Y/N’s affections so poorly, so spitefully - someone wanted to be like him and he turned the other way, ignored them and claimed that it was nothing but a superiority complex at the root of their kindness. Someone admired him, someone wanted to be friends with him - maybe even more - and show themselves, only for Jisung to strip them of all they tried to prove.

He felt tears well up in his own eyes; guilt, confusion, a restless swelling of regret, and the aftershock of hindsight all crowded around him. His words tripped over themselves until they were a worthless sputter that could do nothing to make Y/N turn back around.

“W-wait… Y/N!”

“I’m sorry…”

Y/N made his way out of the room, leaving Jisung in a deafening croon of silence with Hyunjin in the corner in utter shock of everything that just unfolded in front of him. The moment Y/N turned the corner, Jisung could feel his absence - not just physically, but in every aspect of their intertwining lives - in this gaping tear in the space around him. It was as if something that always clung to him was truly lost. Jisung’s teary gaze left everything around him in a blur, yet the look in Y/N’s face will never be less than crystal clear, seared into his head as his emotions fought mercilessly for space in his mind.

“What the fuck just happened…?” Hyunjin stared out to where Y/N stood moments ago, every second without him and with everything they laid on those dirty laminate floors scraping by excruciatingly slow yet disorientingly fast at the same time. They both said so much and all Hyunjin wanted to do was to bolt out of the room and find where Y/N could have stormed off to, but he couldn’t help but watch as Jisung pulled at his hair, thinking about all the things he missed.

All the things he could’ve said back, all the texts he left on read, and all that bitter spite he held to Y/N’s throat, it was all based on a misunderstanding that tore both of them to shreds.

All his hate fell under false pretences, built on unsteady foundations on ‘what if’s and blurred lines he was too ready to cross to make himself feel better. And now Y/N was gone, but the shadow of all his words were already running circles in Jisung’s mind - he needed to find him, he needed to make up for every moment he spent despising Y/N for things he just couldn’t understand.

He didn’t realize how much he needed Y/N until his wishes for Y/N to leave him alone finally came true.

Ever since that day, Jisung has been rolling around ideas in his head of how to apologize, folding up and splaying out words and phrases in his head, rehearsing what he would want to say in order to make up for everything, as that distraught, confused, and ultimate empty sadness in Y/N’s eyes made everything make sense in the worst ways. However, all of these possibilities of what he could say to Y/N were only able to be put into motion if Y/N ever happened to show up around the building…

Jisung hasn’t been able to spot Y/N since he walked out, and it’s been a few days since then. He’s tried prying information out of Hyunjin, but Hyunjin always gives him little to nothing to work with - nothing but a sideways look toward Jisung that spells out every reason as to why Y/N isn’t here. He couldn’t blame Y/N, not one bit, for staying away from the JYP building after everything that Jisung let spill out of him. But Jisung also wanted, so badly, to make it better. He just didn’t know how.

During the hours he spent remembering all the ways Y/N’s features shattered under the weight of his pain, Jisung would wander the halls of the building in vague, fruitless hopes that Y/N would be around the corner of a corridor or in the doorway of one of the practice rooms that only Jisung knows of. He realized how much of Y/N he remembered as he would walk down through the cryptically silent crevices of the JYP building, how all the places he was pulled to were because of where he thought Y/N would gravitate to.

He also found ways to turn over all of Y/N’s little habits and preferences in his hands as if their best moments - the single one they had before Jisung sent everything crashing down - were still right in front of them. There were so many aspects of Y/N, minutiae and little things that Jisung was convinced irked him, but actually made him realize his feelings that much more. Whether it be the way his smile always managed to be so contagious, the way his eyes flickered with this energy and light that Jisung could find nowhere else, or how Y/N managed to make Jisung feel like the only person that mattered whenever he attempted conversation. These were all things that Jisung ignored, shoved away and pushed to the side, thinking nothing of them but an attempt to rub something in Jisung’s face, but whenever Jisung thought about it, he could never quite solidify what it was that Y/N was so maliciously trying to prove.

Yes, sometimes Y/N’s ambition got in his way - rather, they seemed to cross paths more often than not - but all the things he accused Y/N of stemmed more from the ways he saw himself than from how Y/N ever saw him. Because with what Y/N said in tattered sobs before leaving the practice room, Y/N saw him as an inspiration, someone to look up to - Jisung saw Y/N as a nuisance who got in his way and always managed to highlight the gap between where Jisung was and how much further he thought he still needed to go. It was some tortured, twisted form of projecting that Jisung failed to notice until, upon his fifteenth-to-sixteenth time asking Hyunjin if Y/N was around somewhere, Hyunjin sat him down in the middle of the practice room and meticulously -almost suspiciously accurately - psychoanalyzed him as if he wasn’t the dumbass who microwaved the plastic fork packed with his instant noodles the night before.

So, without the help of Hyunjin or anyone else, Jisung set out yet again to think of how to make everything up to Y/N on the slim chances that he actually does manage to be within one of these rooms or halls or corners or little cafes. He let all of Y/N rise to his surface once more, bubbling beneath his skin not like it used to - an irritating itch that Jisung just couldn’t scratch - but as the heat of a flustered flush does. How Y/N always preferred to be on the edge of the classroom rather than near the center, how he always managed to glow so brilliantly in the warm afternoon sunlight, and how they always managed to meet eyes where Y/N was lingering in calm, quiet places of comforting colours.

“Hey- no, uhm… Hi- no…” Jisung couldn’t hold all of his plotting in his head so he just started unfurling all his rehearsing into the empty hallways - or so he thought they were empty… “I’m so sorry you feel this way- NO, that’s the stupidest apology ever!”

“I mean yeah, it could be better… But it’s a start”

A voice leaking from one of the doorways Jisung failed to check rang with this half-empty snarkiness, as if it was hesitant whether to fill the space behind Jisung or not. However, upon hearing it, Jisung instantly turned around, feeling the melody of a voice that’s as familiar to him as his own, yet he’s heard it so few times - once in awkward glee and the second time in broken grief and sadness. Jisung hid a grin behind a bitten lip as he saw Y/N leaning against one of the doorways to one of his favourite practice rooms. He could hardly believe it, he never thought that Y/N would actually come back after what happened, but here he was.

“I’m sure whoever you want to apologize to would end up feeling sorry for you if you said that.” Y/N continued in Jisung’s stunned silence, trying to avoid Jisung’s eyes for fear of what fire he’d possibly find in them this time. He didn’t necessarily know why he was there either, a change of atmosphere, waiting for Hyunjin to finish changing so they could practice together, or possibly waiting for Jisung - what would happen if they met, Y/N didn’t know either.

However, they were right in front of each other now, and Y/N found himself stuck halfway between the words he didn’t know how to say. Jisung was frozen too, rooted in his awe, before shrugging it off with a frenzied shake of his head. As he looked up, Y/N’s face was pensive, withdrawn, as if he was holding something back, and Jisung couldn’t blame him.

“Hey…” Was all Jisung could find in himself now. All that rehearsing, setting his words in scrambled yet neat rows, and now all he could find were tangles of thoughts.

“Hey.”

Y/N felt shrivelled up and cautious, and Jisung couldn’t help but know that those sour notes of pain and hesitance in Y/N’s voice was all because of him. Everything he said, all that misdirected and mistranslated anger and frustration, all on a person who was trying to do their best - and perhaps do their best for Jisung himself too.

“I- I…” Jisung fidgeted with his hands, finding it funny that no matter how far in advance he planned for this moment, he knew he could never be ready for when Y/N would finally be here, waiting patiently beyond the threshold of one of their practice rooms - it was everything he imagined, but at the time he supposed his imagination too wild. “I… Don’t know where to start…”

Y/N took a deep breath, and the shakiness in his long sigh rang through the hallway in a way that made Jisung’s heart shatter all over again. In a turn of events that nearly shook Jisung’s solemnity to his core, though, a flicker of a smile showed up on Y/N’s face and he settled against the doorframe he was leaning against. His eyes were still lightless, contemplative, sad, but Jisung felt something in him brighten as Y/N turned toward him fully.

“I…” The words Y/N was trying to push out of himself felt heavier and heavier as he finally brought his eyes up to Jisung’s. That smile he shone was something he hoped would help them, possibly loosen the strangle-hold the tense air had on them a little bit, but Y/N could feel his sadness rising up in him again, shortening his breath. “I don’t either…”

Jisung took a step closer, and nearly choked on his breath as Y/N didn’t recede, only keeping his eyes on the way Jisung restlessly fidgeted with his hands. “You don’t need to start anywhere, Y/N, I do… I’m here to apologize for everything I said because I managed to say every hurtful thing I possibly could.”

“Yeah, I mean… It was kinda impressive… You covered all the territory...” Y/N curled his arms around himself as he thought back on it, he could still feel the fires of Jisung’s anger trailing him, taunting him as he did his best to distract himself from all the ways an aspiration of friendship came crashing down.

“Y/N…” Jisung took another step, and before he knew it he was taking Y/N’s hand into his own. The last time he had Y/N’s hand in his own, he was trying to catch him from walking out of one of these practice rooms, now Jisung found himself coming closer and closer, with Y/N taking no steps toward him or away from him. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to throw all of my confusion and anger onto you, I twisted all of your actions to suit my frustrations and that’s really fucked up. I never knew how much you looked up to me, and if I wasn’t a dumbass for one second then maybe I could’ve seen it and treated you the way I should’ve, and maybe I could’ve never said those things as if I know everything about you - which I obviously don’t.”

Y/N felt Jisung’s words tear right through him in a way that was borderline transcendent. By the way Jisung’s eyes shimmered like shattered moonlight as Y/N turned away, he always imagined Jisung coming up to him, telling him that it was all okay, and that he was as sorry as Y/N was for making what could’ve been a beautiful friendship into something so disastrous. However, the little cynic nestled in his heart never thought that this could be a reality, any more than a teary-eyed vision of what he wanted.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I’m really sorry that I didn’t figure this out sooner - I needed Hyunjin to set me straight of all people, and that’s embarrassing enough.” At that, Jisung felt the air loosen around them as Y/N let out a small giggle. “You don’t have to forgive me… But I do want to make up for as much as I can…”

Jisung stared out toward Y/N for what felt like an eternity, until Y/N finally picked up the scattered pieces of his voice, of his thoughts, of everything that Jisung’s breathlessness and intoxicatingly sincerity just sent stirring in him. “I… I appreciate that. I don’t need you to ‘make up’ for anything, though. Your apology was enough for me - as hurtful as what you said was, I still can’t help but feel bad for the way I made you feel. I should’ve just said that I liked you from the start…”

“I-” Jisung could almost feel what Y/N said, running against his skin, digging beneath his surface once more. Y/N said this once before when they were in the practice room, both of their hearts left in tatters after Jisung’s anger and Y/Ns’ sadness. But hearing it once more felt like this strange sense of liberation, of finding something Jisung thought was lost. “Maybe if I said I liked you too then we wouldn't need hindsight eating away at us…”

Y/N chuckled and leaned back on the doorframe, this brightness urging back into him after so long, since the last time they truly spoke - which was almost a year and a half by now. Jisung let his mouth hang open at Y/N’s sudden spurt of happiness, part of him relieved to see Y/N smiling, and the other completely offended by Y/N just brushing off his confession like that. However, he couldn’t stay mad with the way Y/N’s smile turned the corners of his stoic frown upwards, making everything seem to melt away for the moments happiness sang on Y/N’s lips. “I don’t wanna sound conceited, but with the amount of footsies you played with me under the tables I could’ve guessed.”

“Shit. I’m not as brooding and mysterious as I thought…”

“Brooding, yes. You might need to work on that mystery aspect a little bit.” Y/N squeezed Jisung’s hand with his own, remembering for a second that their fingers were tied for a moment. “The wounds are still kinda fresh…” Y/N said hesitantly, not wanting to dip them back into the territory of what Jisung came to apologize for in the first place; however, all rational parts of Y/N couldn’t just pretend that the hurt didn’t exist. Jisung nodded with a pout, stepping a little bit closer until their faces were inches apart. He smiled when Y/N gave Jisung a little tug by the wrist to bring him that much closer to the point where he could feel the space between them taunting him. “And I’d more than love to be friends with you, it’s all I wanted. But maybe come back to me when you get better at being mysterious…”

“So this is a see you later? Not a goodbye…?” Jisung said into the corner of Y/N’s smile, waiting so badly for permission to tip that chin and close the space. He nudged Y/N’s nose with his own with a coy flush igniting on his cheeks, and after a moment’s hesitation that nearly made Jisung’s heart drop, Y/N nudged him back.

“How about a ‘see you tomorrow’...?” Y/N tilted his head the slightest bit. “Same time?”

“Same place.” Jisung immediately responded.

“Okay great, come back to me then and maybe we could talk.”

With a smile Y/N leaned in and finally closed the space, Jisung falling helplessly into Y/N’s gravity, bursting like a star under that blazing numbness searing through him as they tied their lips together. Kissing Y/N was like a deep breath of relief, a flicker of sunlight in those days of blind darkness, clear skies after a downpour of tears. It was everything Jisung dreamed of during those sparse glances in hallways and in those moments in that English classroom where it felt like there was nothing in the world. Y/N’s lips were a singularity in space, a place of infinite feeling where Jisung could be drowned in nothingness that made him feel everything.

They pulled back, looked at each other, and finally realized for how long they’ve been holding this breath for each other - longer than either of them could even recall. They’ve been on the peripheries of each other’s lives and now have been brought into full focus; maybe not in the way they would want or prefer, but they were here, finally not a blur of assumptions and rumours but as someone on the other end of their fingertips, of someone they grasp onto like an instinct.

“Bye…” Jisung was breathless, still looking for the breath that Y/N stole away from him. Despite what Jisung said, everything in him wanted to stay right here.

“Bye…” Y/N said, feeling Jisung’s arms wrap around him, keeping them in place and betraying their words.

Everything in Y/N didn’t want Jisung to leave either, he wanted Jisung were he could find him, he wanted him those close always, he wanted this feeling of electric closeness that left him losing feeling in his fingertips as he cautiously traced Jisung’s skin, he wanted the feeling of drowning out the entire world around them. This was where they were supposed to be…

For how long would they stay here, they didn’t know, they didn’t care - maybe until Jisung needed to go to the bathroom, who knows? - but what they did know at this point was that they could take the scars they gave each other and turn them into beauty marks they’d spend all night drawing shapes into, they turned sadness, anger, fear of losing everything into happiness, compassion, things they never thought they could feel.

They’ll stay here for as long as the universe can bear it.

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