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jiminomenon · 2 months ago

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and summer watched us fade

pairing: yu jimin x female reader

tag(s): coming of age, 80’s au, non-idol au, coming of age, slow burn, trip to nowhere, those fics where nothing really happens, forbidden love, mutual pining, summer feels, best friends to ???, they live in a small town, wlw (women losing women), pregnancy trope, no part 2’s, no happy ending

synopsis: in the sticky haze of a korean summer in the 1980s, two girls—both beloved, envied, and quietly aching—spend their final weeks before adulthood chasing freedom in the only ways they know how. beneath the thrill of late-night drives, lake swims, and stolen glances lies something softer, heavier, and far more dangerous. one night changes everything. and by morning, nothing will ever be the same.

word count: 7.6k

warning(s): swearing, cheating, implied sexual content but nothing major

present day – summer night, a quiet house somewhere that used to feel like home

the kitchen light flickers for the third time tonight. a weak yellow glow buzzes overhead, casting long shadows across the chipped linoleum floor. the wallpaper peels in the corners, curling like paper left too close to fire. outside, the wind whistles through the trees, brushing against the windows like a ghost looking for a way in.

everything smells like dust, like old coffee grounds and stale air, like something that’s been forgotten for too long.

yu jimin sits at the table with a glass of whiskey and a cigarette she hasn’t lit. the ashtray is full, but she doesn’t remember when she last smoked. maybe last night.

maybe a week ago. time blurs now — not in the way it used to during summer nights, but in that slow, suffocating way that comes with years you never meant to live.

her husband is snoring in the living room, sprawled across the couch with a beer bottle dangling from his fingers.

he doesn’t wake up when she shifts in her chair, doesn’t stir when she sighs. they haven’t spoken properly in three days. not since the fight about the kids. not since he asked her if she even loved him at all and she couldn’t find a single word to say back.

she reaches for the locket around her neck, the same one she’s worn since she was seventeen. the gold is dulled now, the chain slightly tarnished, the clasp loose from years of use. her fingers know the motion by heart — thumb on the clasp, a gentle twist, and it opens like a wound.

inside is a photo, faded from time, edges frayed and curling, but still intact. still there.

her smile stares back at jimin, all sun-kissed and alive, hair wind-blown, eyes half-squinting from laughter. her back was against the jeep that day — doors off, engine still running, music blasting from the radio. jimin had taken the photo herself, swearing she was only going to test the camera, not actually use it. she’d lied. she wanted to keep a piece of her, something real, something still and quiet, unlike the way everything else always felt too fast when she was around.

she runs her thumb over the image, careful, like the memory might flinch under her touch. there’s a pull in her chest, deep and sharp and familiar. it’s always like this when she looks at the photo — like something just beneath her ribs is cracking open. she used to think it was guilt. now she knows it’s grief. the kind that lingers even when no one has died.

sometimes, jimin thinks she might as well have died. it would’ve been easier that way. easier than knowing she’s probably out there somewhere, alive, well, untouched by this version of jimin — the bitter wife, the absent mother, the girl who never left but still managed to lose everything.

she imagines her in another city, another life, still wearing cut-off jeans and beating the summer heat with that impossible smile. she tries not to wonder if she ever looks back.

the locket hangs heavy against her chest. she closes it gently, but not before pressing her lips to the surface like it’s some kind of prayer. she used to believe in prayers. not anymore. now she only believes in choices, and the long, slow consequences of the wrong ones.

regret, she’s learned, isn’t loud. it doesn’t scream or crash or knock the wind out of you. it creeps in quietly, sits in the corners of your life, and waits. waits for the nights when the kids don’t come home, for the mornings when you can’t look yourself in the mirror. waits until you’re old and tired and wondering why the only thing that ever felt like love was the one thing you were too afraid to fight for.

she doesn’t cry. not anymore. not for a long time. the tears dried up years ago, sometime between her second pregnancy and her first affair, both of which left her feeling just as empty. now she just drinks, watches the ice melt, and listens to the silence.

and sometimes — like tonight — she talks to ghosts. not out loud. not in words. just with the way her hands hold the photo, the way her eyes soften, the way her body remembers what it was like to be held without shame.

it’s summer again. she can smell it in the air — thick and wet and alive. it used to mean something. it used to be hers. theirs.

and now it’s just a season.

outside, the crickets sing the same song they did back then. the wind rustles the same trees. nothing has changed, except her. and maybe that’s the worst part of it all.

she thinks of that last summer, the heat, the secret glances, the lies they told everyone — especially themselves. jimin remembers the way she looked at her in the rearview mirror of that jeep, like she already knew it wouldn’t last. jimin had smiled back anyway. she always smiled back.

the kitchen light flickers one last time. this time, it stays off.

she doesn’t move.

she just sits there, alone with the weight of memory, and wishes — more than anything — that she had been brave.

1984 — somewhere in the summer of south korea

the sun hadn’t even burned through the haze when y/n pulled up outside his house.

the neighborhood was still — no cars, no kids, just long driveways and shutters drawn tight against the heat. the jeep idled beneath a jacaranda tree, cicadas already shrilling, already impatient. y/n drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. waited.

the front door cracked open a few minutes later.

jimin stepped out barefoot, heels dangling from one hand, hair tangled, lips bitten pink. she looked like a secret. skin glowing in places that shouldn’t be glowing. red marks blooming across her collarbone like spilled paint.

“it’s 4pm.” she mumbled, sliding into the passenger seat. “you’re late.”

“you didn’t say a time,” y/n said, barely looking at her. “i’m doing this out of pity.”

“you’re doing this because you love me.”

jimin popped the visor down and peered at herself in the mirror, face half-shadowed. she pulled a compact from her bag and started dabbing powder along her neck, her jaw, the edge of her chest.

“i told my mom i was at yours last night,” she added, casually. “you’ll back me up, yeah?”

“you’re unbelievable.”

“i know.”

y/n sighed. “what if she calls my house?”

“she won’t.” jimin paused. “and even if she does, your mom loves me. she thinks i’m sweet.”

“you’re not sweet.”

“not to you,” jimin said with a grin, blotting her mouth with a tissue.

they were quiet for a moment after that. not an awkward silence — just a lull, like they both knew it had to come eventually. the air was thick, cloying. y/n kept her eyes on the road even though they weren’t moving.

“you could’ve at least changed your shirt,” y/n said after a beat, voice low. “it’s not exactly believable sleepover attire.”

jimin shrugged. “i didn’t bring any extra clothes.”

“no shit.”

and yet, there was no judgment in it. not really.

they talked like that often — back and forth, pushing, retreating. toeing the line between humor and hurt. it wasn’t that serious. it never was.

until it was.

y/n turned her head. just for a second.

jimin was looking at her.

not in that usual, careless way — not the teasing glint or the smug tilt of her head. no, this was something different. still. open. like she’d just remembered something important and didn’t know if she should say it out loud.

y/n felt it in her throat. in her ribs. in that space behind her eyes where old feelings lived.

“what?” she asked, soft.

“nothing.” jimin blinked, looked away too quickly. “drive.”

and so she did.

the engine hummed back to life. the breeze whipped through their hair. neither of them said another word, but something had already shifted.

something small. quiet. irreversible.

the windows were down, warm wind pouring in as the jeep rolled past the edge of town, tires crunching softly over the gravel road. it smelled like dust and sunburnt grass, like summer before it got cruel.

jimin had her head tilted back now, one bare foot pressed to the dash, the other knee drawn up close. her lipstick was smudged, mascara faint beneath her lashes like bruises. she looked tired — or maybe just full of something she wasn’t ready to spill.

y/n glanced over, eyes flicking toward the side of jimin’s throat where the powder didn’t quite reach. she didn’t say anything.

“god,” jimin muttered, stretching her arms out with a groan, “i’m starving.”

“check the glove box,” y/n said, not looking at her. “i think there’s a granola bar.”

“you keep snacks in your glove box like a soccer mom?”

“it’s for emergencies.”

“this is not an emergency,” jimin said, though she opened it anyway and pulled out the sad, slightly squashed bar. she peeled it back with two fingers like it might bite her.

“if i die,” she started dramatically, “bury me in your passenger seat.”

“you wish.”

jimin took a bite anyway. chewed. swallowed.

“this tastes like cardboard.”

“you’re welcome.”

the jeep curved around a bend, trees flickering past them like film reel stills. the light caught jimin’s wrist, made the bangles she wore glint gold. she was always wearing too many accessories — rings, layered necklaces, something delicate behind her ear like a secret.

“so,” jimin said, brushing crumbs off her lap, “aeri’ sleeping with that guy from the record store.”

y/n lets out a dramatic gasp, taking her eyes off the road to look at jimin with disbelief for a hot moment. “no she’s not.”

“yes, she is.” jimin confirmed with an amused laugh escaping her lips. “minjeong saw him drop her off at 3 a.m. and yizhuo swore she had his flannel tied around her waist yesterday.”

y/n raised a brow. “you all need hobbies.”

“this is my hobby.”

“you’re like a walking tabloid.”

“thank you.” jimin only replied, proudly.

y/n smiled despite herself. there was something comforting in the rhythm of it — the gossip, the teasing, the ridiculous ease. even when they hadn’t spoken in a few days, it always picked up like no time had passed. like this was the only version of themselves that ever really mattered — alone, window down, nowhere to be.

“… what about you?” she asked after a pause, keeping her tone light. “is it serious? with jaewook?”

jimin paused.

she leaned back into the seat, letting her head lull to the side. her fingers tapped lightly against her thigh, a nervous beat masked as boredom.

“he wants it to be.”

y/n glanced at her. “what does that mean?”

“means he’s been talking,” jimin said, voice thinner now. “about after graduation. getting a place. settling down.”

“seriously?”

“mhm.”

jimin didn’t look at her. just kept her gaze fixed on the windshield, her reflection faint in the glass.

“he wants to marry me,” she added, too flatly to be real. “thinks i’ll make a good wife. stay home, raise the kids, make dinner before he gets back from work.”

y/n held back a laugh, pressing her lips into a thin line and blinked. “you burn toast.”

“right?”

they both laughed — short, dry.

but then it faded.

jimin leaned forward and plucked a hair tie off the gearshift, twisting her hair into a loose bun. there was something in her shoulders now — something pulled tight, like a string being tugged from the inside.

“he told me he wants two kids. a boy and a girl. already picked out the names,” she said quietly. “he said he wants a normal life.”

y/n’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

“and what do you want?”

it was a simple question, but the air changed the moment it left her lips.

jimin turned to her slowly, the corner of her mouth twitching like she might smirk — but didn’t.

instead, she tugged her sunglasses down just enough to meet y/n’s gaze, really meet it.

it wasn’t a look friends gave each other. it wasn’t safe, or soft, or silly.

it was heavy.

there was longing in it. and maybe resentment. and maybe something that had lived between them for years and never found a name.

she looked at y/n like she already knew the answer.

and y/n did, too.

jimin held it for a beat longer — lips slightly parted, lashes casting shadows across her cheek.

then she turned away again.

adjusted her seatbelt. tucked her hair behind her ear. breathed.

“i don’t know,” she answered, like a whisper. like a promise broken in advance.

the sky was bleeding orange by the time they reached the top of the hill. it wasn’t a real spot — just a place they ended up sometimes, when they didn’t feel like going home. dry grass crunched beneath their sneakers. wrappers blew against the tires.

“this town’s getting boring,” jimin sighed, leaning back on her hands. her cherry lollipop bobbed between her lips. “we should do something stupid.”

“like?” y/n unwrapped her sandwich lazily, one leg dangling off the hood of the jeep. “dye our hair with kool-aid? steal a mailbox?”

“ugh,” jimin groaned out. “that’s so ning of you.”

y/n laughed, half a mouthful of bread. “what does that even mean?”

“you know.” jimin twirled the lollipop stick between her fingers. “unhinged. chaotic. kind of hot, but in a terrifying way.”

“you’re literally describing yourself.”

“wrong. i’m hot and terrifying in a controlled way. big difference.”

y/n rolled her eyes, but she didn’t argue. she bit into her sandwich and let the silence stretch. the wind blew light through jimin’s hair, catching it like gold threads.

“she’s sleeping with that college guy, by the way,” jimin said suddenly, breaking the quiet like it was nothing. “the one with the bad sideburns.”

y/n blinked. “wait, what?”

“aeri told me.” jimin sounded bored, like she’d already lived a whole life since hearing it. “they hook up in his car behind the auto shop.”

“that’s disgusting.”

“i know. he drives a ford escort.”

y/n snorted. “priorities.”

“i just don’t get it,” jimin muttered, biting her lip. “yizhuo could literally have anyone. what is it with girls like us falling for guys who peak in high school?”

“so you admit jaewook peaked.”

“ugh,” she groaned out, dragging her hand across her face. “don’t even bring him into this.”

they both broke into laughter. it was sharp, teenage, the kind that made your chest hurt if you weren’t careful.

y/n finished the last bite of her sandwich, brushing crumbs off her lap. jimin stared at the horizon, lollipop now forgotten in her hand.

“you ever think about leaving?” y/n asked after a minute. “like—actually leaving. somewhere no one knows us. no one expects anything.”

jimin didn’t answer right away. she tilted her head, considering.

“sometimes,” she said quietly. “but then i think… who am i if i’m not her?”

“who?”

“the girl everyone looks at. the girl with the boyfriend and the parties and the perfect hair. if i leave, i lose that. and then what?”

y/n looked at her. really looked.

“maybe you find out.”

jimin didn’t look back, but the corner of her mouth tugged into something unreadable.

“you always say things like that,” she murmured. “like they’re simple.”

“maybe they are.”

the wind picked up again. this time, jimin leaned into it. and then leaned into y/n, her shoulder brushing hers like it was casual. but it lingered. just long enough.

it was past five when they reached the lake. the sky was a bruised violet, soft clouds melting into the edges of gold. no one else was there — not on a tuesday — and the quiet felt earned. like the world was giving them a break.

the water rippled gently, disturbed only by the occasional flicker of fish near the surface. y/n kicked her shoes off first, letting her feet sink into the mud. jimin followed, a little slower, peeling her socks off and grimacing.

“this better not give me some country girl toe disease.”

“you’re so annoying,” y/n laughed, already walking in.

the water was cold, but not unpleasant. it slid up y/n’s calves like silk, pulled at her legs like it wanted to keep her. behind her, she could hear jimin swearing softly, stepping in like it hurt.

they didn’t go deep — just enough so the water reached their thighs, skirts floating up, fingers brushing against the surface. jimin splashed y/n half-heartedly. y/n retaliated by dunking her whole hand in and flicking it at her like a wave.

“don’t—” jimin shrieked as water hit her face. “my makeup!”

“you’re literally swimming.”

“this isn’t swimming,” she huffed, wiping her cheeks. “this is… aesthetic wading.”

y/n shook her head and smiled. “god, you’re hopeless.”

they waded in silence after that, the kind that only comes when you know someone too well to fill it. frogs croaked in the reeds. a mosquito buzzed past. y/n let her eyes close for a second, just to feel the way the wind touched her skin.

“do you think it’s always gonna be like this?” jimin asked suddenly.

y/n opened her eyes. “like what?”

“us,” jimin said, voice low. “this town. the lake. the jeep. cherry coke and lies to our parents and fake laughs with boys we don’t really like.”

y/n looked at her then, really looked. jimin was standing with her arms folded, water licking at her hips, hair curling slightly from the humidity.

“you sound sad.”

“i’m not,” jimin said quickly. “i’m just thinking.”

y/n wanted to say something. she wasn’t sure what. but before she could find the words, jimin turned away and sank down into the water until only her chin and lips were above the surface.

“…jaewook doesn’t know i’m here, by the way,” she said.

“yeah?” y/n murmured.

“i told him i couldn’t stay the night again and i wanted to go home early. but then i just… didn’t. i called you instead.”

y/n didn’t respond. she didn’t need to.

jimin floated closer. not quite swimming, just drifting, until she was in front of y/n — too close. their knees bumped. jimin’s fingers brushed against y/n’s as she reached for balance, barely touching, then resting there.

the moment stretched.

“you’re staring,” jimin whispered.

y/n didn’t deny it.

jimin smiled — soft, unreadable. “why do you always look at me like that?”

“like what?”

“like i’m about to disappear.”

y/n didn’t know what to say. she didn’t even know what she felt.

and then, jimin dropped her hand, turned away again, and headed back toward the shore like nothing happened.

y/n followed her out of the water in silence.

by the time they got out of the water, the sun had dipped completely below the horizon. what remained was the afterglow — soft blue bleeding into gray, stars just beginning to burn through the dark.

they were dripping wet, shoes forgotten near the edge of the grass. jimin wrung her shirt out without shame, letting it cling to her skin like second nature. y/n kept her eyes forward, pretending not to notice. pretending she wasn’t noticing everything.

they didn’t talk as they grabbed a blanket from the back of the jeep and laid it out on the grass. didn’t talk as they sat close enough for their thighs to touch. didn’t talk as the silence stretched and stretched and stretched—until it didn’t feel like silence at all, but something heavy. something loud.

finally, jimin broke it. voice low, casual, but not really.

“you remember that sleepover at minjeong’s in sophomore year?”

y/n blinked. “the one where aeri snuck vodka into the lemonade?”

jimin smiled faintly. “no, before that. way before that. we all made a pact. remember?”

“the marriage pact?”

“mhm.”

y/n leaned back on her elbows. “you said you’d marry me if we were both single by twenty-five.”

“twenty-four,” jimin corrected. “i had standards.”

they both laughed — but it didn’t last. the night was too soft for real humor. too still.

“you were so serious about it,” y/n said after a pause. “made me pinky promise.”

“i was a serious child.”

y/n turned her head. jimin was staring up at the sky, lashes dark and wet from the lake, lips parted just slightly. she looked young. not in the usual way — not pretty and powerful and unbothered — but young. like a girl caught between something she couldn’t name and something she couldn’t stop.

“what if we did leave?” y/n asked quietly. “what if we packed the jeep and drove until we ran out of gas?”

“we’d starve,” jimin muttered. “you can’t cook.”

“neither can you.”

“exactly.”

they both smiled, but neither of them meant it. not really.

then jimin turned her head, and y/n’s breath caught.

because jimin was looking at her the way she only did when she forgot to be afraid. the way she only did when it was dark out and no one was watching. like y/n was something important. something she’d been trying not to want.

“do you ever think about us?” jimin asked, voice barely above a whisper.

the question sat between them like static.

y/n didn’t answer right away. didn’t trust her own voice. didn’t trust anything except the pounding in her chest.

“yeah,” she replied eventually. “all the time.”

which was the truth.

jimin blinked once, slowly. and then, like it was nothing at all, she leaned in. her shoulder brushed y/n’s. her hair tickled her cheek. her lips were so close they might’ve already been touching.

but they weren’t.

instead, she just rested her head on y/n’s shoulder.

and they stayed like that — two silhouettes on a blanket, lake behind them, town below them, whole lives ahead they hadn’t figured out how to want.

they didn’t speak much after that.

just stayed there, still and quiet on the blanket, listening to the breeze curl through the grass and the water lap softly against the shore. jimin’s head on y/n’s shoulder. the kind of silence that felt like it might break if you breathed too hard.

but eventually, jimin sat up.

“i don’t want to go back,” she said, brushing damp hair off her face. “not yet.”

y/n didn’t ask what she meant — didn’t ask if she was talking about home, or her boyfriend, or the version of herself she always wore like armor.

instead, she just stood. “then don’t.”

jimin looked up at her. “seriously?”

“come on,” y/n said, already moving toward the jeep. “we’ll drive till we hit the ocean. or at least a waffle house.”

“what about your curfew?” jimin teased, but she was already trailing after her, bare feet sinking into the grass.

y/n smirked. “i’ll tell my mom i got kidnapped by my one and only best friend who wanted to run away.”

“she’d believe it.”

they climbed into the jeep — wet, barefoot, reckless — and peeled out of the field like they were being chased by something. maybe they were.

the road opened up in front of them like a promise. headlights slicing through the dark, the hum of tires on asphalt. jimin sat cross-legged on the passenger seat, arms out the window, wind tugging at her damp shirt. she looked younger like that. softer. undone.

y/n turned the dial on the old stereo and music crackled through the speakers — one of those scratched-up cds that had been passed around friend groups for years. girls screaming lyrics into the void. something about heartbreak and freedom. something about wanting.

they played it loud.

jimin screamed the chorus like her lungs could take it, like her voice didn’t belong to anyone but her tonight. y/n shouted right back, voice hoarse, throat raw from laughter. they slapped the dashboard in rhythm, stomped their feet, shouted nonsense to the stars.

“this is so dumb!” jimin cried, but she was laughing — really laughing, the kind that made her nose scrunch and her eyes crinkle.

“you’re dumb!” y/n yelled over the music, foot pressing harder on the gas.

they were driving too fast. the trees blurred past. the wind was vicious. but for once, jimin didn’t care. didn’t ask to slow down. didn’t try to fix her hair.

she just leaned back, eyes closed, lips parted like she was breathing for the first time in years.

and then — as if on cue — the sky cracked open.

not a drizzle. not a soft warning.

a downpour.

“shit!” y/n gasped, jerking the wheel as rain poured through the open top. “oh my god—!”

“you don’t have a roof?!” jimin shrieked, trying to curl into herself. “are you insane?”

“it flew off last year, dumbass!”

“what?”

“you don’t remember?!”

they were soaked within seconds. jimin’s hair plastered to her cheeks, y/n’s shirt stuck to her back. the seats squelched beneath them. everything was wet and cold and completely ridiculous.

“we’re gonna get pneumonia and die,” jimin wailed dramatically, kicking water off the floorboards.

“death by hot girl road trip,” y/n blurted out, voice cracking through laughter. “tell my mom i died cool.”

eventually, y/n squinted through the blur of rain and turned the wipers on — they groaned uselessly across the windshield, barely helping.

“we need to pull over,” she muttered, slowing down. “i can’t see shit.”

“i can’t feel my spine.”

they rounded a bend, the road narrowing into cracked pavement and trees. jimin wiped a hand across the foggy window. “there’s something—look!”

and then, through the rain: a glow. faint, flickering, a sign blinking through the mist.

eden.

“should we…?”

“it’s either that or freezing to death.”

y/n turned into the gravel lot. the rain thudded against the hood like a warning.

they parked.

killed the engine.

sat in the silence for a second, water dripping from their hair, their clothes, their skin.

then jimin opened her door.

the wind hit her first — then the sound.

bass. faint, but steady. muffled through the walls.

they stepped into the glow of the porch light, blinking rain from their eyes, shivering as they crossed toward the entrance.

that’s when they noticed.

rainbow flags in the fogged-up window.

a handmade pride sticker curled on the glass.

a poster half-torn and faded, reading ladies’ night — free cover.

chalk on the sidewalk, slightly smeared: love is love.

jimin stopped walking.

so did y/n.

their bodies were still dripping. their fingers were trembling from the cold. their lungs were too full of air, or not full enough.

neither of them said anything.

they just stared at the door.

inside, a song was playing. something synthy. feminine vocals layered over a soft electronic beat. the kind of music you danced to without looking around to see who was watching.

“is this—?” jimin started, but her voice cracked. she cleared her throat, tried again. “is this… what i think it is?”

y/n nodded slowly. “yeah.”

a beat passed.

then another.

a gay bar.

rain dripped from the edge of the awning.

jimin wrapped her arms around herself, not from the cold — or maybe not just the cold.

y/n looked at her. studied the outline of her in the neon light. her damp lashes. her bitten lip.

she looked like she was deciding something.

“we don’t have to go in,” y/n assured gently.

jimin didn’t answer.

just kept looking at the door.

the music kept playing. someone inside laughed — a loud, belly-deep laugh, the kind that made you wish you were part of it.

jimin blinked once. then twice.

“it’s fine,” she said, brushing water off her bare arms like that could wipe away the hesitation. “we’re soaked and freezing. it’s not like we’re here for the nightlife.”

y/n nodded. “right. yeah. totally.”

they pushed the door open.

heat swallowed them whole.

the air inside was humid with sweat, perfume, and the faintest trace of cigarettes. the lights were low — reds and purples melting into one another — and the music blasted through the floorboards, shaking something loose in their ribs.

men danced with other men. shirtless, laughing, bold. women kissed women openly in shadowy corners, eyeliner smudged and hands gripping hips, mouths moving with the kind of urgency that only came with long-held secrets finally given space to breathe.

no one looked ashamed.

no one looked afraid.

just… alive.

y/n swallowed hard and tried to play it cool.

they made their way to the bar — jimin tossing her wet hair over one shoulder, y/n adjusting her shirt to make it cling less. they didn’t talk. didn’t need to. their silence had become a language of its own.

but then y/n noticed it — a group of girls lounging on one of the low velvet couches, drinks in hand and eyes glittering. their stares were direct. confident. predatory in the prettiest way.

one of them tilted her head, mouth curving into a slow, amused smile.

her gaze slid down y/n’s body, unapologetic.

y/n froze.

her stomach flipped. heat crawled up her neck. something about being seen like that — not just looked at, but seen — made her breath catch in her throat. made her heart stutter, unsure if it was flattered or terrified.

and then —

a hand on her arm.

tight. urgent.

jimin.

“come on,” she said. her voice was sharp. too sharp.

“what are you—?”

but jimin was already pulling her, dragging her away from the couches, from the women, from the lingering stares and flushed cheeks. straight toward the dance floor.

the lights shifted as they stepped into the crowd — a pulse of blue, then red, then violet. bodies pressed close, heat rising in waves, music swallowing conversation.

“jimin,” y/n called, breathless, “what the hell was that?”

she didn’t even look at her.

jimin just shrugged again. “thought you wanted to dance.”

“since when?”

jimin didn’t answer. just pulled her in, fingers slipping down y/n’s arm until they reached her wrist — and held. not tight, not hard. just there.

and then, the music shifted.

the synth faded. the lights dimmed further, dipping the room in a red-soaked haze.

guitar notes trickled in, soft and slow, like a confession whispered too late.

“oh— thinkin’ about all our younger years

there was only you and me

we were young and wild and free”

y/n’s breath hitched.

jimin’s hand slipped to her waist. they stood close now — closer than before. their bodies lined up in the thrum of the bass, their breathing synced without trying.

they didn’t say anything. not at first.

“now nothin’ can take you away from me

we’ve been down that road before

but that’s over now

you keep me comin’ back for more”

the first lyrics hit like a wound.

young and wild and free.

wasn’t that what they were chasing tonight? in the lake, in the jeep, in the downpour that soaked them to the bone — wasn’t that what they wanted? freedom?

jimin’s fingers curled slightly at y/n’s waist. grounding her.

y/n’s hands found her shoulders, hesitant, but real.

they moved together, swaying. not dancing in the way the others were, but slow. intimate. like something raw was unraveling in real time.

y/n felt it in her chest. her throat. her spine.

the way jimin was holding her — like she meant it. like it meant everything.

“baby you’re all that i want

when you’re lyin’ here in my arms

i’m findin’ it hard to believe

we’re in heaven”

and suddenly, it was too much.

not in the overwhelming way.

in the honest way.

this wasn’t a joke anymore. it wasn’t a whim or a secret thrill or a sleepover memory in the dark. this was jimin, inches away, singing under her breath, mouthing the words without looking at y/n.

“and love is all that i need

and i found it there in your heart

it isn’t too hard to see

we’re in heaven”

she was mouthing them to her.

y/n blinked, stunned.

jimin still wouldn’t look directly at her. not yet. but her hand tightened at y/n’s waist. her jaw tensed like she wanted to say something, anything, but couldn’t.

y/n leaned in. just enough to speak.

“jimin,” she whispered.

that did it.

jimin looked up.

and for the first time all night — maybe for the first time ever — she looked like she’d stopped running. no masks. no walls. no sharp retorts or jokes or sideways glances.

just jimin.

raw. wide-eyed. soft.

“and baby you’re all that i want”

they didn’t kiss.

not yet.

but god — they could’ve.

and maybe they would.

but for now, they just kept moving. hands tight. hearts louder than the music.

two girls in the middle of nowhere, swaying in a bar that wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan.

and yet — somehow — felt exactly like home.

jimin’s hand slid from y/n’s waist to the small of her back, anchoring her. they were swaying now, not quite to the beat, but to each other. like muscle memory — like this was something they’d always known how to do.

the music faded out around them. not in volume, but in presence. people danced, laughed, kissed under colored lights, but y/n couldn’t hear any of it. not really. all she could hear was the song, and jimin’s breath, and her own heart slamming against her ribcage like it wanted to get out.

“i’ve been waitin’ for so long

for somethin’ to arrive

for love to come along”

a flash of light caught the side of jimin’s face — a warm pink glow from the neon sign overhead. it softened her jawline, made her eyes glimmer. made her look a little less like the girl everyone wanted, and a little more like the girl only she knew.

“now our dreams are comin’ true

through the good times and the bad

yeah, i’ll be standin’ there by you”

y/n swallowed. her fingers tightened against jimin’s shoulder without meaning to.

this was dangerous.

not because of the place. not even because someone could see.

but because y/n didn’t want to let go.

and maybe that was the scariest part.

not being caught — but being seen.

“baby, you’re all that i want

when you’re lyin’ here in my arms”

jimin leaned in, just slightly, just enough that her forehead brushed against y/n’s.

barely touching. still pretending. but the tension cracked like glass between them — too fragile to fake, too loud to ignore.

“why’d you pull me away from her?” y/n asked, her voice small.

jimin didn’t flinch. didn’t pull back.

“she was looking at you like she owned you,” she said. “i didn’t like it.”

y/n blinked. “so what? you had to come mark your territory?”

jimin exhaled a laugh. short. breathy. too close to a sigh.

“no,” she said. “i just… wanted to be the one holding you.”

the words landed like a punch to the gut.

y/n’s eyes fluttered closed for a second, like she needed to breathe through it — to stay steady. but jimin’s hand was still on her back. and her forehead was still touching hers. and the music, god, the music wouldn’t stop.

“it isn’t too hard to see

we’re in heaven”

that lyric again.

like a promise.

or a cruel joke.

the kind of thing you say when you know it can’t last.

jimin pulled back half an inch — just enough to see her. to really look at her.

“do you want me to let go?” she asked. low. serious.

y/n didn’t answer right away.

her heart was too loud.

her throat was too full.

and jimin… jimin looked at her like she’d been holding in that question for years.

“we’re in heaven…”

“no,” y/n said finally, quietly, honestly. “don’t.”

and she didn’t.

they kept dancing.

if you could even call it that.

moving in place. two bodies pressed close in a room that wasn’t made for them, in a world that wouldn’t let them have this — not really.

but right now, just for a few minutes, they pretended.

and in the middle of all the noise, it felt like the only thing that was real.

the world blurred at the edges, soft and unfocused like a half-remembered dream. jimin was still holding her—barely, fingertips brushing against the small of her back like she might disappear if she pressed too hard.

y/n hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, hadn’t even breathed properly, terrified that the fragile tension between them would collapse under the weight of reality.

their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the scant space between them. lips parted, close enough to taste the maybe of it all. then—a shift. jimin tilted her head, just slightly. y/n mirrored her without thinking. it wasn’t planned, wasn’t some grand romantic gesture. just gravity, inevitable and quiet.

their noses bumped first, clumsy and sweet. lips brushed—once, twice—before hesitation pulled them back. just a fraction, just enough to question. a beat passed. a breath held. then their eyes met in the dim light, and something unlocked between them, slow and aching. not dramatic, not earth-shattering. just a quiet click, like a door finally giving way after years of pushing.

jimin’s shoulders relaxed first, the tension draining from her like water. y/n’s fingers uncurled from where they’d been clutching at her waist, the electric hum between them softening into something warmer, something safer. their hearts slowed. their breathing evened. foreheads pressed together again, this time with purpose.

and then—they kissed.

slow. careful. like they had all the time in the world and still couldn’t risk wasting a second of it. jimin’s lips were warm, and y/n’s hands cradled her face like something precious, and it was nothing like either of them had ever experienced before.

this wasn’t hunger or impulse or rebellion. it was confession. it was truth. it was every unspoken thing between them since they were too young to understand what any of it meant.

y/n's fingers slid gently up into jimin's hair, nails scraping lightly across her scalp as the kiss deepened, their bodies swaying together effortlessly.

every brush of their lips burned with longing, and yet something in the way jimin surrendered herself to y/n felt like coming home. y/n's thumb traced a gentle path across jimin's cheek, the touch as delicate as it was electrifying. they were two souls meeting in the middle, two hearts finding their way back to each other through the only language they knew how to speak.

when they broke apart, it was only far enough to breathe. and that’s when y/n saw it—a single tear tracing its way down jimin’s cheek. she opened her mouth like she might explain, might apologize, but no words came. just silence, just vulnerability laid bare between them.

y/n’s vision blurred in answer, tears slipping free before she could stop them. but she didn’t pull away. instead, she kissed her again. and again. not like they were running out of time, but like they’d finally found it.

somewhere at the edge of the room, an older woman watched them over the rim of her glass, her smile tinged with something wistful. maybe she’d been them once. maybe she’d never gotten the chance. but the look in her eyes was clear—soft, proud, aching with the kind of recognition that only comes from knowing exactly how much courage it takes to love like that, openly and without armor.

and under the low lights, between the music and the murmurs of the crowd, jimin and y/n kept kissing. no more hesitation. no more pretending. just this—just them—finally, finally real.

morning came slow.

it crept in on quiet feet, folding over the horizon like a secret, bleeding pale amber through the grimy motel blinds. the light slashed across the bed in soft, broken lines — golden on the white sheets, warm against skin that still burned with last night’s memory.

outside, the world had not yet stirred. the birds hadn’t started, and the roads were still empty, the motel parking lot a graveyard of old cars and forgotten names.

inside the room, there was only stillness. breath and weight and heat.

the air smelled like rain and sleep and perfume rubbed off on cotton. the kind of scent that lingered. the kind that stayed.

y/n was still asleep, her face half-buried in the motel pillow, hair messy and curling from dried lakewater and sweat.

her body was tangled in the scratchy blanket, bare shoulders just visible where it had slipped low on her back. her mouth parted in her dreams, chest rising slow, content. peaceful in a way that made something in jimin ache.

because jimin was already awake.

had been for hours, in fact.

she sat at the edge of the bed, hunched over with her elbows resting on her knees, long fingers woven together tightly. her nails dug into the backs of her hands. her legs were still bare, skin marked faintly where y/n had held her too close last night, kissed too deep.

the room echoed with ghosts now — her own heartbeat loud in her ears, the taste of y/n still heavy on her tongue.

last night had been something out of time. something forbidden and burning and too fucking real to be anything else.

but now, there was only morning. and morning never lied.

she stood, legs a little unsteady, the weight of what she was carrying heavier than she ever imagined it would be.

the floor was cold beneath her feet. she stepped over the mess they’d left behind — y/n’s tank top flung over the chair, jimin’s underwear by the foot of the bed, a damp towel they never used balled up near the door. lipstick stains on a glass of tap water. everything chaotic and unmade, like them.

the bathroom door creaked as it shut behind her. the light flickered twice before settling into a low, ugly buzz.

she didn’t need to look at the mirror. she already knew what she’d see — swollen eyes from crying on and off since 4 a.m., hair wild from both the rain and y/n’s hands, skin too pale, too marked. not like her. not like the jimin everyone else saw.

she looked anyway.

then she looked at the sink.

the test was still there.

white plastic. two pink lines. a verdict. a sentence. a future.

positive.

the word rang in her head like a bell. not because she hadn’t believed it the first time. but because seeing it again made it feel more permanent. like it was written in ink now. like her whole life was already on the page, and there was no erasing it.

she let herself breathe. slow and shaky. in, out. again.

then, with shaking hands, she wrapped the test in motel tissue and dropped it into the tiny silver trash bin. she didn’t look at it after. couldn’t.

she turned on the faucet instead, splashing water on her face, hoping it would wake her up or rewind time or wipe away what she already knew. but it didn’t. it just made her colder. more aware of her body and all the ways it was changing without her permission.

when she stepped out of the bathroom, the motel room looked the same.

but y/n hadn’t moved.

she was still asleep, curled toward the spot jimin had left, like she knew jimin had been there, and like she was waiting for her to come back.

jimin just stood there for a moment, bare feet on the old carpet, towel still clutched between her fingers like a shield. her eyes traced y/n’s sleeping face — the slope of her nose, the soft curve of her lips, the way she furrowed her brows just a little, even in rest. god, she looked beautiful. and jimin hated that. hated that the only time they could be like this — soft and real and without fear — was in a place like this. in a night like that.

she walked over quietly, like her bones might crack beneath the weight of it all. crouched beside the bed and reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind y/n’s ear with the gentlest touch she could manage.

her fingers lingered on her cheek. she leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. it was light, careful, but it said everything.

i’m sorry.

i can’t stay.

i l—

a tear threatened to fall, and she swallowed it down. she backed away slowly, heart pounding, breath caught in her chest like a scream she couldn’t let out.

her hands hovered over the telephone before she touched it. she stared at the buttons of the numbers for what felt like hours. not because she didn’t remember them. she did. she always had. but pressing them meant something. it meant shifting the world back into place — the one she had never wanted to belong to, but had never been allowed to leave.

she closed her eyes and let her fingers dial.

the telephone rang once. twice. she couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing in her ears.

“… karina?”

a voice on the other end — groggy. confused. familiar.

jimin swallowed the lump stuck on her throat.

and then she spoke, voice hollow and shaking.

“…jaewook.”

fin.

#karina x reader #aespa karina #yu jimin #yoo jimin #aespa x reader #karina #yu jimin x reader #aespa x fem reader #yoo jimin x reader #aespa #giselle #aeri uchinaga #aespa winter #kim minjeong #ning yizhuo #ningning #wlw #aka womenlosingwomen

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jiminomenon · 4 months ago

Text

congrats on 800 btw 😍💙💙💙

۶ৎ A DREAM WITH A BASEBALL PLAYER — yu jimin.

⌗ in which— karina’s a shy, socially awkward girl with a huge crush on you, the campus's popular baseball player. she’s never had a real conversation with you, but with all her embarrassing attempts to get your attention, she can’t help but wonder—how did she fall for someone who doesn’t even know she exists?

pairings. loser!college student!karina x gp!baseball(softball? baseball for the plot)player!reader

warning(s). 18+ (smut), loser!karina...shes like really down bad (anon dis is 4 u), minor injury (karina gets hit with a baseball, but she’s fine!), secondhand embarrassment, mutual pinning (kinda? ur nonchalant), drunk sex/drunk reader ☹️, dry humping, pet names (pretty girl & baby), finishing inside bc why not, and let me know if there's more!

word count. 7.7k

authors note. happy 800 chat

karina had seen you around campus, of course. how could she not? you were everywhere—on posters for your team, casually chatting with her inner circle of friends, and always looking good doing it.

she was a senior in college and had a lot on her mind, but somehow your name had a tendency to float into her mind more often than she wanted to admit. and not because she thought you were a great baseball player but because… well, she might have had a little crush on you.

she’d tried to ignore it at first—tried to focus on her own life, her studies, and the fact that graduation was creeping up on her faster than she’d liked. but every time she saw you on campus, every time her eyes accidentally locked with yours during a class, her heart would skip. it was like a punch to her gut, and she hated how giddy it made her feel.

at first, she tried to chalk it up to being starstruck, to the fact that you were the school's top baseball player, one of the best, and everyone knew who you were. it wasn’t anything serious, she told herself. just a passing fancy. but that didn’t stop her thoughts from wandering back to you when she should’ve been doing something else. she’d catch herself imagining what it would be like to casually run into you, maybe sit next to you at a coffee shop, or even get invited to one of your games.

you would have conversations inside her head. ones that would last for hours as she imagined all the different things you two would talk about. sometimes they were deep and thoughtful; other times they were silly and fun, and sometimes you would say things to her that made her heart pound and her cheeks flush.

she tried to brush it off, to tell herself it was silly—you probably didn’t even know she existed. you probably didn’t even think twice about the random girl who always seemed to be watching from a distance.

but one day, everything changed.

you’re late—shocker, right? it’s always the same story: running from class to practice, your mind racing with plays and strategies, your feet pounding the pavement of campus. it’s the first day of the semester, and you're already behind.

of course, as if on cue, someone steps right into your path.

you crash straight into her, your shoulder knocking hers as you both stumble. her books tumble to the ground in a flurry of papers, and you mutter an apology as you bend down to help her gather them.

it takes you a moment to realize who she is.

her dark hair falls in waves around her face, obscuring her features as she frantically grabs at her scattered belongings. you can tell she's frustrated, but you don't really understand why until your eyes fall on the cover of the book you'd picked up—it's a college textbook, one for a class that you just so happen to be enrolled in.

which was also kicking your ass.

she freezes as your eyes meet. you recognize her instantly—she sits near you in class. she's quiet but always seems to pay attention, taking notes with pen and paper instead of typing away on a laptop like everyone else. she also stares at you sometimes—or, at least, you think she does. sometimes it feels like you're being watched, and when you look back, you catch her quickly glancing away.

“uh, sorry about that,” you say, your voice a little more tense than usual as you hand her the book.

she seems to snap out of her trance and takes the book from your hand, still blushing slightly. “it’s… it’s fine. really.”

a moment of silence passes between you two as you both stand there awkwardly, neither sure what to do next. then, you start walking away, but just before you turn the corner, you look back, and there she is again—staring at you, her eyes wide and startled, like a deer caught in the headlights. you raise an eyebrow before continuing on your way.

after that day, karina can’t stop thinking about that moment. she knows her friends are starting to catch on to her little obsession. they’ve all seen how she gets when your name comes up in conversation.

at first, giselle was the only one who seemed to notice. she’d raised an eyebrow when karina mentioned you, casually saying, “oh, so the baseball girl, huh? the one you keep staring at from across the room?”

karina had brushed it off, but giselle’s knowing smile lingered. “it’s so obvious, rina. you’ve got it bad.”

karina had laughed nervously, refusing to admit it out loud. “i don’t have it bad. i just—she’s cute, that’s all.”

giselle just grinned wider, not buying it for a second.

then there was winter, who was the more analytical one.

karina knew it wouldn't take her long to notice something was up, so she did her best to keep her feelings to herself. but that proved to be impossible, and when winter had quietly said, “you know, you always seem to gravitate towards the baseball field when we’re deciding where to study outside.” karina knew she was doomed.

she was blushing so much that even she noticed. she stammered a little, trying to explain, but winter just laughed and gave her a knowing look. she patted karina's arm reassuringly. "it's fine," she assured her. "we all have crushes sometimes, even me."

karina shook her head and muttered something about not knowing what she was talking about. winter gave her another sympathetic glance and didn’t press the issue further.

the final nail in the coffin was when ningning, bless her heart, bluntly asked, “are you, like, in love with that baseball player?”

karina had nearly choked on her coffee. “what? no! of course not!”

but ningning just shrugged, unfazed. “okay, just wondering. you talk about her a lot.”

so, yeah, her friends knew. and they weren’t exactly subtle about teasing her. but despite their teasing, karina couldn’t shake the feeling that she was completely invisible to you.

until the jersey incident.

it was a saturday morning, and karina was rummaging through her closet, trying to find something comfortable to wear to the library. finals were looming, and she was determined to spend the entire day buried in books. she grabbed the first thing that felt soft and oversized, a faded jersey she’d found at a thrift store, and threw it on without even bothering to look at the name on the back.

she met winter at the library, and as soon as she sat down, winter’s eyes widened, and she burst out laughing. “oh my god, rina, you’re not serious, right?”

karina frowned, confused. “what are you talking about?”

winter pointed at her back. “turn around and look at the mirror.”

karina reluctantly got up and walked over to the nearby restroom. she caught sight of her reflection, and her jaw dropped. emblazoned across the back of the jersey, in bold letters, was your last name.

her face burned as she realized what had happened. she’d been so oblivious that she’d accidentally worn your jersey to the library. again! not just any jersey—one with your name plastered on the back!

she didn’t even know that it was yours.

“i can’t believe this is happening,” she muttered to herself, mortified. she briefly considered taking it off and braving the cold, but she had nothing else to wear, and she really needed to study. so, with a sigh of resignation, she returned to her table, trying to ignore winter’s amused grin.

the entire day was a blur of anxiety. every time someone walked past her, she felt like they were staring at her, judging her for wearing your jersey without even knowing it belonged to you. she kept her head down, trying to focus on her books, but her mind was racing with thoughts of you seeing her and thinking she was some kind of obsessive fan.

then, as if summoned by her own paranoia, you walked into the library.

karina’s heart skipped a beat. she tried to shrink into her chair, hoping you wouldn’t notice her, but it was too late. you’d already spotted her, and a look of surprise crossed your face. she gulped nervously and averted her eyes, desperately praying you wouldn’t recognize your own jersey. but no such luck—you were already walking towards her.

your face split into a grin.

"hey," you said, coming to stand beside her, “nice jersey.”

karina’s cheeks flushed red. “oh, uh, thanks,” she stammered, avoiding eye contact. “it’s just… comfortable.”

you chuckled, and karina wanted to disappear into the floor. “yeah, i can see that. i didn’t know you were a fan.”

“i’m… not really,” she mumbled. “i just found it at a thrift store, and i didn’t even realize it was yours until today. i’m so sorry.”

you grinned, and karina couldn’t help but notice how cute you looked when you smiled. “no worries,” you said. “it’s actually kind of funny.”

you lingered for a moment longer, and karina was sure you were about to say something else, but then your friend called your name, and you turned away, waving goodbye. “see ya around.”

as you walked away, karina’s heart pounded in her chest. you thought she was a fan. and you had smiled at her. it was a small interaction, but it was enough to make her float for the rest of the day.

the next encounter was even more embarrassing.

you were working with giselle on a project, and for some reason, giselle’s apartment had become the designated workspace for your group. karina, not even getting the slightest heads-up about that you'd be coming, had walked into their shared living room, ready for a casual movie night, wearing that same jersey again.

you were sitting in front of the couch, your legs crisscrossed applesauce in front of you, your head bent over a laptop, and your brow furrowed in concentration. you looked up when you heard the door open, and when you saw her standing there in her oversized jersey and fuzzy slippers, you glanced over at giselle, raising an eyebrow.

karina froze, her mind blank with panic. she hadn’t expected to see you here, especially not again so soon after the first time. she stood awkwardly by the door, trying to think of what to do next, but it was too late—you had already spotted her, and there was no way to get out of this without seeming like an absolute weirdo.

you stared at her for a long moment before recognition flashed across your face.

"oh! karina, right?" you said, a very small, almost teasing smile forming on your lips.

she nodded slowly, feeling the blush rising on her cheeks.

karina’s eyes darted between you and giselle, a silent plea for escape radiating from her. "uh, hey," she stammered, her voice barely audible. "i… i didn't know you guys were here. i was just, uh, gonna watch a movie." she gestured vaguely towards the tv, a pathetic attempt to salvage the situation.

giselle glanced at the screen and then back at her. she was obviously fighting the urge to laugh, but karina appreciated it nonetheless. "yeah," she said, giving her an amused look, "we're working on a group project here, if that's okay with you. or, well, i guess y/n is, technically. i'm just sitting here and making sure she doesn't fall asleep."

you rolled your eyes at that, but karina could tell from your tone that it was all in good fun. she'd heard you bicker like this before—in class, between practices. giselle always teased you, but it seemed to go both ways. you always seemed to give as good as you got.

you shrugged. "yeah, it's okay with me." you turned back to karina. "you can watch your movie here if you want. i don't mind."

karina hesitated, unsure what to do next. it would be weird to say no, but she was still a little flustered by the fact that she'd worn your jersey two times in a row. and now she was about to be forced to watch a movie in the same room as you while wearing that very same jersey. it felt like her whole world had been turned upside down in just a few days, and she wasn't quite sure how to deal with it all.

but you just smiled, gesturing towards the empty seat next to you on the couch.

karina slowly made her way over and sat down beside you, trying not to look as nervous as she felt. she felt incredibly self-conscious in that moment. the rest of the evening was a blur of awkward small talk and forced smiles. karina tried to focus on the movie, but her mind kept wandering back to you. she was painfully aware of your every move, of the way you chewed on your pen when you were thinking, of the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed.

she couldn’t help but wonder what you thought of her. did you think she was trying to get your attention? did you even care? or were you just being polite? she could barely concentrate on the movie, her mind racing with questions and fears.

okay. maybe the last encounter wasn’t that embarrassing. maybe. because even if it was awkward, you seemed to be fine with her.

karina wasn’t supposed to be here. ningning had practically dragged her to your baseball practice, saying something about her "lack of fun activities" and that she needed to get out of the house on a nice, sunny saturday afternoon. but then, just before they left, ningning had whispered with a mischievous grin, "and so you can make a move on y/n." karina's face instantly went hot, and she knew—she knew—that ningning was up to no good.

it's not that she didn't want to ask you out or that she hadn't considered it before, but the thought of doing it in front of an audience was mortifying. what if you said no? or what if you said yes but only because everyone was watching? what if she said something stupid or made a complete fool of herself? she wasn’t ready, so instead, she decided to stay quiet and avoid making a scene.

she knew that it probably wasn't a good idea to come to your practice after all the embarrassing encounters you had shared; she was probably actually starting to seem like an obsessed fan, but there she was, watching you pitch in the field, sweaty and focused, your hair falling in your face as you wind up, the ball leaving your hand at just the right moment and hitting the center of the catcher's mitt with a loud "thwack" as it came crashing down.

"go talk to her," ningning whispered again, practically bouncing beside her.

karina shot her a panicked look. "no way. i’m not—"

before she could finish, you made eye contact with her. karina froze. she gave a stiff wave, offering a nervous smile, but when you didn’t approach her, she quickly looked away, fidgeting with the strap of her bag. she was hoping you would approach her first. or that you would be so distracted by practice that you wouldn’t notice her. or that maybe—just maybe—she was being paranoid and you wouldn’t think twice about it.

ningning was still pushing her forward, and she knew that there was no way she was getting out of this. but as she watched you run and swing and laugh with your friends, she knew it was only a matter of time until you saw her. she could feel it in the pit of her stomach—like a storm brewing, an electric charge building.

your eyes locked once again, and her stomach did a somersault. this was it. she couldn't hide any longer.

she took a deep breath and gathered her courage. she was going to have to make a move, no matter how humiliating it might be. she wasn’t sure where this boldness came from, but she took a deep breath and strode forward. she didn’t stop walking until she reached your side. you gave her a questioning look, obviously surprised by her sudden approach, but karina wasn't about to let herself be intimidated.

"hey, i, uh," she stuttered, trying to keep her voice steady. "i wanted to say, um, and, well… did you want a water?"

that wasn’t exactly the question she was planning on asking, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. she cursed silently. why did she always end up sounding like an idiot around you?

you blinked. “i’m good, karina.”

that was all you gave her before tossing the ball to one of your teammates.

she deflated slightly, trying to hide it behind a forced grin, nodding. her cheeks felt like fire. she turned away, but just as she started walking, she heard you call, "actually, wait! uh, could you pass me some water?"

"yeah, sure!" karina spun back around, nearly tripping over her own feet.

you held out a hand, and she placed the bottle into it, careful not to touch you. she didn't want to make things more awkward than they already were.

"thanks," you smiled, taking a sip.

karina nodded again, feeling a little bit ridiculous. was she imagining it, or were you blushing too?

you cleared your throat awkwardly. "so, are you coming to the game this weekend? it's the final."

"oh, yeah." she perked up at the mention of your game, eager to continue the conversation, and you visibly relaxed. "we're all gonna be cheering you on."

your lips curved into a smile. "that's cool. i could use the support."

karina grinned back. "we wouldn't miss it for the world."

you laughed. "good to know."

the two of you stood in silence for a moment before karina spoke up again, her nerves returning. "well, um, i'll see you at the game, y/n."

"see ya," you replied, giving her a small wave.

she turned and hurried back to her spot, her heart pounding against her ribs. had that been enough? was it too much? had you noticed the way her hands trembled or the fact that she was sweating despite the cool breeze? did you know that she couldn’t stop thinking about you, even though you barely knew each other?

she tried to shake off the doubts, but it was hard not to feel a little embarrassed. she had been so desperate to talk to you that she'd ended up sounding like a total dork. she was sure you were probably laughing about it now, telling your friends what a weirdo she was.

but before she could dwell on it too much, the sharp crack of a bat meeting a ball rang out across the field.

karina barely had time to register the sound before something hard smacked straight into her shoulder. she gasped in pain, instinctively clutching the spot where the baseball had made contact. she yelped, stumbling backward as pain bloomed across her arm. "ow—what the—"

ningning gasped dramatically. "oh my god, karina!"

you spun around at the commotion, eyes widening when you saw her clutching her shoulder. "shit—are you okay?"

karina barely had time to respond before you jogged over, concern etched across your face. she felt her heart slam against her ribs. great. not only had she embarrassed herself earlier, but now she was getting pelted by stray baseballs in front of you.

"i'm fine," she mumbled, trying to wave it off despite the throbbing in her arm. "it's just a bruise, i think."

"hyunjin was supposed to be watching where he was hitting!" you glared in the general direction of your teammate, a tall guy with a sheepish grin, before turning back to her, the worry still evident in your eyes. "let me check it out."

she hesitated, but before she could protest, you reached out, gently taking her arm to inspect the damage. karina swore her brain short-circuited at the contact. you were touching her. you were touching her.

"doesn't look too bad," you said, thumb grazing lightly over the spot. "but you should ice it later."

karina swallowed. "y-yeah. good idea."

your teammates, however, had no intention of letting this go. a few whistles rang out across the field, accompanied by hollering and laughter.

"get a room!"

"hey, y/n, you should kiss it better!"

"looks like y/n's got a girlfriend now!"

your face went red as the taunts continued. you rolled your eyes, dropping her arm and taking a step back. karina missed your touch immediately.

"ignore them," you muttered, glancing back at her with an apologetic smile. "they're just messing around."

karina, still reeling from the fact that you’d touched her, felt her cheeks burning, even more so when the laughter intensified. she could barely look up at you, embarrassed to the core. she almost wanted to disappear into the ground.

the weekend came, and karina was in the stands at your game, bundled up in her jacket, shivering slightly against the cool air. the stadium was packed with people, cheering and shouting as the players warmed up. she had never been to a game before, and she had to admit, she was a little excited.

ningning sat next to her, grinning widely. "this is so exciting! i can't believe we're actually here!"

giselle nodded. "me too. i've never been to a college baseball game before regardless of how many times y/n tried to convince me to go.”

winter smiled, leaning forward. "same! i hope they win! i heard the other team is undefeated."

karina could barely focus on the game itself as her eyes kept drifting to you on the field. you were out there, throwing some warm-up pitches, looking good in your uniform, your muscles flexing under the jersey. she had seen you play before (through videos), but up close, it was a whole different experience. it was hard not to be impressed.

when the game finally started, karina was on the edge of her seat. she didn't even realize she was gripping the edge of her seat until ningning whispered, "relax. it's only the first inning."

the game went on, and as it did, karina couldn't help but notice something was different. every time your eyes locked, you'd flash her a smile. a small, shy, almost hesitant smile. but a smile nonetheless.

and she'd smile back, feeling the butterflies in her stomach flutter wildly.

then came the final inning. your team was behind by just one point, and the crowd was on edge. it was your turn to bat, and karina could feel her heart hammering in her chest. she bit her lip, gripping her jacket nervously. this was it. this was the moment.

the first pitch came, and you swung—missed. the crowd groaned in disappointment.

you stepped back, adjusting your grip on the bat. karina’s palms were sweaty as she watched you prepare for the next pitch.

second pitch. you swung again, and this time, you made contact. the ball soared through the air, and the crowd went wild as it sailed toward the outfield. karina stood, her heart pounding, watching as the ball seemed to hang in the air forever. but then—it landed right into the outfielder’s glove.

she fell back into her seat, deflated. it was over. you had lost.

ningning slumped. "oh, well."

"maybe next time," giselle said.

but winter, ever the optimist, nudged her, giving her an encouraging smile. "i'm sure they'll win next time."

karina just nodded, not quite believing it herself.

"well, i guess that's that," giselle sighed.

you stood there for a second, disbelief crossing your features, before you took off your helmet and walked back to the dugout, head hanging as your teammates patted you on the back and murmured words of encouragement. she had really wanted you to win, and the way your expression had shifted after missing the second pitch broke her heart.

she wanted to go to you, but what could she say? she didn’t even know if you’d want to talk to her.

as the crowd slowly began to leave, karina stayed behind, watching as the other players headed off. she noticed you standing by yourself near the edge of the field, staring down at the ground. she hesitated for a moment before gathering her courage.

"y/n?" she called softly, stepping toward you.

you looked up, your face a little red and sweaty, but when you saw her, a small, tired smile tugged at your lips. "hey, karina. thanks for coming."

karina smiled awkwardly, then bit her lip, trying to figure out what to say. "you played great, even if… you didn’t win."

you chuckled. "thanks. i guess it just wasn't my day."

there was a pause, and she didn't want the moment to end, so she decided to go for it. "so, um, if you want to hang out—y’know, after the game? i could get us something to eat or ice cream or whatever. it might help?" she offered, biting her lip nervously.

you looked at her, eyes widening in surprise, and karina's heart dropped. had she been too forward? were you just being polite earlier and didn't actually want to spend time with her?

she opened her mouth to retract her offer, but before she could say anything, a smile spread across your face.

"i'd love that," you said, and she swore her heart skipped a beat.

karina felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

it’s strange how quickly things change.

the first time she calls you just to talk, you think it’s a mistake. you’re halfway through lunch when your phone buzzes, the vibration against the table pulling you from your thoughts. you glance at the screen, and the name staring back at you is karina. for a split second, your mind goes blank, and you freeze.

why would she be calling you? you can’t figure it out. you and her… you’re just figuring this out, right? you’ve been dating for about two months now, but still… you were expecting the casual texts and the occasional cute little memes she sends you, but a phone call? out of nowhere? that wasn’t on the schedule.

your first instinct is to ignore it. you tap the screen, ready to swipe it away without a second thought. it’s probably just a mistake—maybe she’s calling someone else and accidentally dialed you. it happens.

but then, for some reason, you hesitate. maybe you should pick up. what if it wasn't a mistake, and she was really calling you? what if she was trying to ask you something and didn't want to do it over text? what if there was an emergency? you can't help the small bubble of curiosity rising in your chest, so you hit the answer button and press the phone to your ear.

"hey, y/n," karina's voice greets you cheerfully, and you feel your heart flutter at the sound of her voice. "sorry for bothering you."

"no worries," you manage to reply.

"i was just thinking about you. i wanted to hear your voice.”

the way she says it catches you off guard, and for a second, you think she’s joking. but no, she sounds serious. she was thinking about you? like, genuinely thinking about you? you try to laugh it off, but it comes out more awkward than anything.

“uh, okay,” you respond, swallowing thickly, unsure how else to respond.

karina thinks it’s kind of unfair how you make her feel things like this.

you’re not flashy. you don’t say much. you never have. she knows this. but still, sometimes it gets to her — the way you can be so quiet and still make her feel like her whole chest is full.

like that night last week.

you’d had a game, and she knew you’d be exhausted. so she stayed up the entire night — grinding oats and mixing protein powders, googling “energy-boosting snack ideas athletes like,” and watching five different videos until she got the recipe right. she shaped every bar by hand, wrapped them neatly, and even wrote little notes on the bags, just something dumb like good luck today, don’t skip stretching.

you didn’t even look at the notes.

you had your earbuds in when she showed up to hand them over to your team, looking bleary-eyed but proud. all you did was thin out your lips, nod once, and mutter, “thanks.”

and then you kissed her forehead so quick she almost missed it and walked off like you didn’t just turn her insides to glitter.

she stood there, holding the tupperware lid, heart thumping against her ribs, unable to stop the grin spreading across her face.

it was embarrassing.

like when she helped you finish that impossible assignment. you’d been half-dead after practice, forehead pressed against your laptop while groaning like a wounded animal. she told you to go nap. you didn’t argue.

and when you woke up, groggy and blinking, she’d already finished it. sorted the references, checked the formatting, and saved everything neatly on your desktop.

she was actually kind of excited. proud. nervous.

but you looked at her like she’d just handed you a baby goat.

“why would you do that?” you’d asked, blinking hard.

she shrugged, cheeks burning. “i thought it’d help.”

you stared at her a beat longer before muttering, “you’re weird.”

but then you reached out and tugged on the sleeve of her hoodie so gently she barely noticed until your fingers brushed hers.

it’s the small things, really.

like how you always walk on the outside of the sidewalk, even when you don’t realize it. or how you’ll sometimes wordlessly pull her in by the strap of her bag when a bike rides too close. the way you toss your keys into the same bowl in her apartment even though you don’t live there. how you sometimes lean against the kitchen counter while she talks about her day, eyes half-lidded, like you're only half-listening—but then you’ll say something hours later that proves you heard every word.

how you never say i love you, but once, when she was stressed and crying over a project she thought she ruined, you wordlessly pulled her into your lap and said, “don’t be dumb. you’re the smartest person i know.”

and she knew, somehow, that that was your way of saying it.

her friends don’t get it. they ask why she’s so into you.

“she doesn’t even post you,” ning pointed out once, half-joking, half-serious. “is she even into you like that?”

karina had smiled, soft and small, and just said, “you don’t see the way she looks at me.”

because they don’t.

they don’t see how you never let her walk home alone, even if it means waiting an hour. or how you always notice when she forgets to eat, sneaking an extra granola bar into her bag like she won’t find it later and blush. they don’t see the way you fidget when she’s upset, like you’d do anything to fix it even though you hate talking about feelings. how you always, always pick up the phone on the first ring, even if all you say is a low, gruff, “what’s wrong?”

they don’t know how many quiet nights she’s spent curled into your side on the couch, your thumb brushing over her knuckles without a word. how you let her decorate your desk with tiny, sparkly trinkets even though they don’t match anything. how you’ll kiss her wrist when you’re half-asleep, like it’s a reflex, like loving her is something you do without even thinking about it.

"i just think it's weird how you basically obsessed over her for months, and now that you're together, she acts like it's nothing. i mean, don't get me wrong, i'm happy for you guys. but i'm just surprised, i guess. that's all."

it's not a fair comparison, and karina knows that. because it's different now. she's not obsessing anymore.

she's just falling.

karina is more shy than people think. she doesn’t throw herself at you. she just… gravitates. her pinkies always finding yours. her head always leaning toward your shoulder. she lives in the tiny pockets of space around you, content just to be near.

it drives her crazy because karina doesn’t like inconsiderate things.

not big, dramatic betrayals. just the little, accidental kinds. the ones that sting in ways you can't really explain out loud.

like when she brought up her study plans earlier in the week, fingers loosely laced with yours as you walked her across campus. her bag was heavy with textbooks, and she was talking about how she had two essays due, a group presentation, and an exam in the next five days.

you’d frowned at that. hummed once. she thought you might say something about how she needed to rest more or offer to make her coffee in the mornings again.

but you just hummed. and that was it.

you never brought up your game.

you didn’t even ask her to come.

she told herself not to be upset. that ningning was getting in her head. that you were probably distracted. focused. she knew how seriously you took baseball, how tunnel-visioned you got before games, and how sometimes even brushing your knuckles against hers was the most affection you could offer when your head was crowded.

still.

she watched it live on her laptop anyway. volume low. hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands. she saw your team win. she saw you run the bases with that crooked grin you always wore when you were proud but trying not to show it.

she smiled, too. softly. alone.

and then she turned the volume off again and went back to highlighting her notes.

you don’t text her after.

not even a we won. not even a you up.

she tries not to mind. earbuds in, another textbook propped open.

she thinks about sending a message first. congrats! or that was amazing. i saw the whole thing. or, even, i miss you.

but it feels a little silly. a little desperate.

so she doesn’t.

it's not like she's clingy.

she's really not.

she knows how it can look. how she always finds excuses to be near you, how she leans her head on your shoulder during movies and laughs too loud at your dumb jokes, and how sometimes she just can't help herself and has to tell everyone in earshot that you're her girlfriend.

no, no, no. enough of that. she's supposed to be studying, burying the almost-message. the wish that you’d notice how tired she is too. how stressed.

she spends the rest of her night studying in bed, hair pulled into a messy knot, black glasses sliding down her nose, highlighters bleeding through flashcards. her room is a mess. empty mugs stacked on her windowsill. papers crumpled at the foot of her bed. her laptop fan is wheezing because the piece of shit is nearly on its last life.

she doesn't move much, except to flip through her annotated reader or scrawl out the answer to another practice question with a pencil that’s down to a stub.

she’s halfway through rewriting her presentation outline for the third time when the knock comes.

a sharp, clear sound at the front door of her apartment.

karina jumps a little, startled out of her haze, blinking at the sudden silence that comes when she pulls one earbud out. she glances at the clock. it’s late. too late for a package, and her roommates aren’t expecting anyone.

she rises cautiously, stretching out her stiff legs as she pads through the hall in her socks. the knock comes again, knocking like they're trying to break the door down. karina almost doesn’t open it—because honestly, who shows up at a stranger's apartment at midnight without any warning?

but then you mumble her name through the door like a whine, and she’s gone, flipping the lock with a sigh and a half-smile already tugging at her mouth.

“there she is,” you slur, leaning against the doorframe. “my girl. you look—oh my god. you look so cute. are you real?”

“shh—” she hisses, yanking you inside quickly and shutting the door before your noise wakes the rest of the apartment. “y/n, it’s like two in the morning. can you not be so—”

“you didn’t come,” you say, suddenly pouty. “i looked for you.”

her stomach sinks. oh.

you had wanted her to be there.

she wants to slap herself. she shouldn’t have doubted you. she shouldn't have assumed you didn't want her there.

but why couldn't you have said something before?

she sighs, hands on your shoulders as she tries to steer you toward her room. “come on. you’re loud. everyone's sleeping."

you grin like a troublemaker. “but i won.”

when you reach her bedroom, karina flicks on the little lamp by her desk. her bed’s a war zone—notes, open notebooks, uncapped pens. her laptop’s still glowing, half an article pulled up, highlighters scattered across the sheets.

you’re already pulling off your hoodie, shirt riding up your back as you do, and she tries not to look because you’re still muttering nonsense and swaying like a tree in the wind.

she sets her jaw, quick to start gathering the mess. “seriously. go take a shower. you’re not crawling into my sheets like that.”

you laugh, and she hates the way her cheeks go warm. you shouldn’t be able to do this, even drunk.

you just blink slowly, fingers working the buttons of your jeans now, and then—quietly, like it’s muscle memory—you wrap your arms around her from behind.

mid-reach, her hand falters on a notebook. the warmth of your bare arms snakes around her waist. your chin settles on her shoulder.

“y/n,” she says, a gentle warning.

you ignore it. “you smell like rosemary shampoo.”

she closes her eyes. “that’s because it is rosemary shampoo.”

“you smell nice.”

she’s not used to this side of you.

you’re quiet most of the time. touchy, sure, but usually in a blink-and-miss-it kind of way—a hand on her lower back, a brush of pinkies, the way you pull her into your side during movie nights like it’s an afterthought.

you never do this.

never press up against her and say her name like it's the only word you know.

and she should really keep picking up the highlighters. she should really not melt.

but your nose nudges her neck. “missed you today. you always look pretty, but, like, tonight i kept thinking about how your ears turn red when you get embarrassed. did you know that? you get so flustered, and then you try to pretend you’re not.”

the words curl warmly down her spine, and she feels herself lean back against you.

“you didn’t ask me to come,” she says finally, the words coming out smaller than she intended.

you pause.

“didn’t wanna distract you,” you mutter. “you’ve been so busy.”

“but i wanted to be there,” she whispers.

“next time,” you say. “please come next time.”

karina nods, throat tight.

and then your hands rest on her waist, and she can feel the heat of them through her shirt.

it makes her breath catch, her skin buzzing under your touch. she tries not to squirm, but then you murmur, right against the shell of her ear, "you feel so good in my arms…my pretty, smart girlfriend…"

karina shivers, heat spreading across her cheeks. "i love when you say that," she breathes, voice shaky.

your lips brush her neck. "say what?"

"that i'm your girlfriend."

you chuckle, low and deep. "but it's true."

she bites her lip. "yeah, but it's still nice to hear." you let out a long sigh, trailing your hands up her sides, your palms warm even through the cotton, fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, just barely grazing skin.

"fuck, i missed you."

she swallows thickly. "you did?"

"yeah," you breathe. "so much."

she turns around to face you, still pink-cheeked, eyes bright with anticipation. you smile, and she can't help but smile back, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. neither of you says anything as you press forward, mouths meeting in a kiss that starts soft but deepens fast—your hands finding her lower back, her fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

it doesn't take long for the kiss to become heated, and soon you're tugging at pants, trying to undo the singular button as quickly as possible, and then she's falling back onto her bed, laughing and breathing hard, her lips swollen from kissing, her glasses askew.

and then you’re on her. kissing her again, messier this time. hungrier.

your hands settle on her thighs first, then slide up, coaxing her legs open just enough for you to slot yourself between them. she gasps into your mouth when your hips press down. your weight against her feels so good, so perfect, that she can't help but grind her hips up, trying to chase the friction.

"you're so pretty," you mumble against her neck, lips brushing her skin as you speak.

"oh god," she whispers, arching into you.

you smile, nuzzling her jaw, hands squeezing her hips as you press down harder. "feel good?"

"so good," she says, her eyes fluttering closed. there’s barely anything between you—just the fabric of your boxers and her underwear, but she can feel the way you harden, the way your cock twitches when she rocks against you.

she lets out a quiet moan, fingers tangling in your hair, tugging slightly.

"god, i'm so lucky. i get to have you all to myself." you kiss down her jaw, her neck, and her collarbone. her hands grip your shoulders tight. her thighs instinctively squeeze around your hips. "i love having you all to myself."

and when you do it again—grinding down slow, right where she needs you—she whimpers, hiding her face in your shoulder.

you press a kiss to her temple.

“my pretty, smart girlfriend,” you whisper again. “so good for me.”

she knows you care about her, but hearing it, feeling it, is something else entirely.

"please," you whine, hips rutting against her desperately. "i need you so much."

karina's breath hitches at the sound of your voice, low and raspy with lust. she knows she shouldn't give in; you're drunk, after all, and she has work to do. but when you look at her like that—eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed—she can't bring herself to resist any longer.

"okay," she murmurs, cupping your face in her hands and pulling you down for another kiss. "i'm yours."

the words send shivers down your spine. you've been dreaming about this moment for weeks now, imagining what it would be like to have karina all to yourself. and now, finally, here you are—alone in her apartment, wrapped in each other's arms, ready to take things to the next level.

you smile against her lips, your hand moving to slide her underwear to the side, too caught up in the moment to even bother taking them off completely.

karina didn’t seem to mind either, her lips parting slightly at the feeling of the cool air.

you pull away just enough to pull down your own boxers, freeing your hard length before lining it up with her entrance. she moans softly as you start to push inside her, savoring every inch as she stretches to accommodate your size. once you're fully sheathed, you pause for a moment to let her adjust, kissing along her jawline and murmuring praise into her ear.

"fuck," you groan, hips rolling slowly, "you feel so fucking good."

she gasps as you fill her up, fingers digging into your shoulders. the pressure is almost unbearable; your cock seems impossibly large inside her, stretching her walls until she thinks they might burst from the pleasure. but then, without warning, you begin to move—thrusting in and out of her at an agonizingly slow pace.

every time you bottom out, you hit that spot deep within her that makes her see stars, leaving her shuddering and whimpering beneath you. her body trembles with each thrust, legs wrapping tightly around your waist, trying to draw you in deeper. it feels incredible; your skin is pressed flush against hers, hot and slick with sweat, and your breath ghosts over her neck as you pant and moan in her ear.

and when she opens her eyes, she sees you looking down at her with such raw adoration that it takes her breath away. "i love you," you whisper hoarsely, gazing into her eyes as if you want to memorize every detail of her face. "so much."

karina hides her face in your shoulder again, too shy to look at you while saying what she wants to say. "i love you, too."

the words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, but she doesn’t regret them one bit. they feel right, natural, like they've been waiting on the tip of her tongue for years. and maybe they have—maybe she's loved you since she saw your face around campus but was too shy to admit it to herself.

but now, here, with you, there's no point in denying it any longer. she loves you. every part of you. even the parts that drive her crazy sometimes.

your hands slide down her sides, gripping her hips tightly as you increase the speed of your thrusts. "i love you," she repeats, softer this time, her voice muffled against your neck.

"god, karina," you breathe, "you have no idea how long i've waited to hear you say that."

she laughs, but it comes out more like a moan as you hit that spot inside her once again. you let out a shaky breath, trying to control yourself, but she knows you're close—she can feel it in the way your cock twitches inside her, the way your fingers dig into her skin.

"you're so fucking perfect," you murmur, your thrusts growing sloppy and erratic. "i'm never gonna get enough of you."

and then, with one final thrust, you come undone—spilling inside her, filling her up completely. she gasps as your warmth floods through her, her own orgasm hitting her like a tidal wave. your name escapes her lips in a choked sob as she clings to you, nails raking down your back as the pleasure crashes over her.

you stay like that for a moment, basking in the afterglow, before finally pulling out of her and collapsing onto the bed beside her. she immediately curls into your side, watching as you drift off, a contented smile playing on your lips.

your fingers absently curl around hers, your breathing evening out. karina smiles softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, feeling her eyelids grow heavy with sleep.

falling asleep next to her favorite baseball player—it feels like a dream.

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