#day6: press | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angstama · 3 months ago

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04: traitor | l.jn

pairing: lee jeno x f!reader (ft. mark lee)

genre: angst, pure heartache, slight fluff!

synopsis — when jeno asked you to make his bride’s dress, it was more than fabric and lace—it was a reckoning. you never thought you'd be asked to create the wedding dress for the man you once loved, not after everything that had happened between the two of you. five years have passed since jeno walked out of your life, and now, he stands before you again—asking for a favour that stirs old memories and emotions you've tried to bury.

a/n: part 4 was a little painful to write... would love to take in questions regarding the characters themselves if there's anyone interested in having a interview like session with them~ as always, thank you so much for the support so far! <3 i had this song from day6 on replay while writing this! the lyrics really omg pain

chapter music: right through me - day6

traitor m.list | traitor's playlist | previous | next chapter (05)

the studio door shut with a soft click, the kind that barely made a sound but somehow echoed loud in your chest.

they were gone. for now.

you leaned back against the table, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding during the entire consultation. mark moved around the room in his usual quiet rhythm, gently stacking the sketchbooks, collecting loose fabric swatches, returning things to their places without a word.

you glanced at him. he didn’t say anything. he just gave you that familiar glance, like you good? and you answered back with a tired nod. sort of.

“you did good,” he said quietly, still focused on organizing the clutter. “jeno didn’t even blink when i talked about the tux. like i was born to design it.”

a soft chuckle escaped you. “you kind of were.”

he smiled, not pushing further. just let the silence stretch out a little before he asked, “you thinking about the dress?”

you followed his gaze to the corner of the studio—the untouched mannequin, still standing bare. the sketches had been finished for days, detailed and carefully thought out. but the actual dress... that was a different beast altogether.

“yeah,” you said, voice low. “i think i’ve been avoiding it.”

he didn’t press. didn’t offer advice. just waited, hands resting loosely on the back of a chair, like he knew you needed to say it in your own time.

“she said she wanted something dreamy. soft, with flower lace. and i knew, right then, that it wasn’t just any dress she was describing—it was almost like mine. not exactly, but... the feeling.”

mark finally looked up. his expression wasn’t concerned, just open. patient. “you’re not going to make her the same dress, though.”

you shook your head. “no. i can’t. i won’t. but the way she talks about love, about her future—it reminds me so much of who i was when i thought i had it all figured out.”

you moved closer to the mannequin, arms crossed. “she’s golden, mark. not in a perfect way. but quiet. like the kind of sunlight that sneaks into your room in the morning. soft, and warm. and kind. you want to be annoyed by it, but you can’t. because it feels like something you didn’t know you needed.”

there was a pause. you looked at him, the guilt sitting in your throat like a stone.

“she’s everything jeno needs. maybe even what he should’ve had from the start.”

mark didn’t say anything for a moment. then, slowly, he moved toward your worktable and picked up the lace you’d set aside days ago. he walked over to you, holding it out—not forcing, just offering.

“you don’t have to rush,” he said. “but if you’re ready... maybe just start with this.”

you looked at the fabric in his hands. familiar, delicate, full of all the feelings you’d tried not to name.

and then you reached out and took it.

“yeah,” you said softly. “we can try."

you finally went home while the sun was still out for the first time in a while. the golden rays filtered through the trees, casting a warm glow on the pathway that led up to your door. it was a small moment of peace in the chaos that had been consuming you, and as you stepped inside, the familiar scent of home wrapped around you, easing the weight in your chest just a little.

the moment you opened the door, a familiar sound made your heart flutter—a soft bark followed by the pitter-patter of tiny paws on the wooden floor. before you could even process it, polo came bounding toward you, tail wagging furiously. his fur had grown a little longer, but his eyes still held that same playful, innocent gleam that always made your heart melt.

“polo!” you exclaimed, dropping your bag at the door and kneeling down to scoop him up into your arms. you buried your face into his soft fur, laughing as he licked your cheek in excitement. the overwhelming sense of relief that washed over you was instant. it felt like you could finally breathe again.

you missed polo greatly. polo was the dog you and jeno had adopted together and he's been living at your parents’ place for a while now ever since your work schedule got too hectic to care for him properly. a part of you guilty for keeping him away from you for so long but you knew it was the right thing to do for now with everything that've been consuming you.

it was a saturday morning, and you were in the middle of one of your usual weekend brainstorming sessions with jeno. the two of you had always talked about getting a dog—how you’d both wanted a companion for years—but it always seemed like something you’d do “someday.” that day, however, jeno had a mischievous glint in his eye.

“hey, how about we actually get a dog today?” he suggested casually, as if it wasn’t the most outlandish thing he’d ever said.

you stared at him, trying to gauge if he was joking. "wait... what?"

“yeah, why not? let's go pick one out. i mean, we’ve talked about it enough,” he said, already pulling out his phone, looking up puppy adoption sites as though he’d planned it all out.

“are you serious right now?” you laughed, almost incredulous. but his grin was enough to convince you he was, indeed, dead serious.

an hour later, you found yourselves standing outside an adoption center, staring down at a small, scruffy puppy who was jumping up and down in excitement. jeno, with his usual practicality, eyed the puppy, evaluating its energy levels with a nod of approval.

“this one,” he said, pointing at the puppy, who immediately ran over to you, licking your hand with its tiny paws. you bent down to pet it, instantly charmed by the little creature.

“wait, jeno... how do we know it’s the right one?” you asked, still trying to process the fact that you were about to adopt a puppy—just like that.

“because he’s got the energy to match ours,” jeno said with a smirk, “plus, he’s got that ‘polo’ look to him.”

you blinked. “polo?”

“yeah,” jeno shrugged, “like the sport. fast, energetic, playful. fits him perfectly, don’t you think?”

you stared at the puppy as it hopped around in circles, full of life and excitement. jeno was right—it definitely had that “polo” vibe.

“alright, polo it is,” you grinned, already in love with the little guy. "he's ours now."

“hell yeah, he is,” jeno laughed, holding out his hands for the puppy to jump into. "welcome to the family, buddy."

and just like that, polo became a part of your world. the three of you left the adoption center, jeno carrying polo as you both laughed at how spontaneous the whole thing was. from that day on, the little puppy brought a burst of joy and chaos into your lives, just like jeno did—and in some ways, he became a living reminder of how you’d always said “someday,” but had ended up doing it today, without hesitation.

"looks like someone's missed you," your mom’s voice rang out from the kitchen, her tone light and warm. you looked up to see her standing there, smiling softly. you blinked, surprised to see her standing in your doorway. she didn't live with you, but there she was, and it made your chest tighten with a strange, bittersweet mix of emotions.

“mom? what are you doing here?” you asked, still holding polo close.

“i was just passing by," she said with a smile, but her eyes twinkled as she added, "polo here kept looking out the window for you, so i thought i’d bring him over. it seemed like you might need some company."

you stared at her for a moment, her words settling in. polo had been the one who made her decide to visit. the thought made you smile softly. in some ways, it felt like he understood you better than you understood yourself.

“thanks for bringing him," you said, standing up and walking toward her. "i didn’t realize how much i missed him until now.”

your mom nodded, her eyes softening as she looked at you. “i can tell. it’s been a while since we had a proper catch-up, hasn’t it?”

“yeah, it has.” you smiled, but the weight of everything that had been weighing on you lately pressed on your chest again.

she noticed, of course. she always did. without asking, she moved toward the stove and began pulling out containers of food, a gesture you’d grown so familiar with over the years. "i made dinner," she said casually. "thought you might need a proper meal."

you walked over to the table, feeling your stomach rumble at the thought of real food for the first time in what felt like forever. the simple, comforting scents of stir-fried vegetables and a warm broth were a welcome change from the stress and tension of the past few days.

you sat down, your mom joining you across the table. as you dug into the meal she’d prepared, the quiet hum of the kitchen felt like a balm for your overworked mind. polo, now content to curl up at your feet, added a sense of calm to the atmosphere.

after a few minutes of eating in comfortable silence, your mom set down her chopsticks and turned her gaze toward you. “so, how’s everything going? you’ve been keeping to yourself a lot lately.”

you put your chopsticks down too, meeting her gaze. there was no point in pretending everything was fine anymore. “actually well... there’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you.”

she raised an eyebrow, her expression soft but expectant. “go ahead, sweetheart.”

you took a deep breath, then, almost without realizing it, the words came spilling out. “i’m helping jeno. he's getting married... to her, wheein. and i'm designing his wedding outfits, including her wedding dress."

you could see the shift in her eyes. it was subtle, but there was a warmth there, like she understood without needing to ask more. after all, she had witnessed the love story that you and jeno shared, and the heartbreak that shattered you completely.

“jeno, huh?” she said softly, a nostalgic smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “you always had a soft spot for him. even when you two weren’t together.”

you paused, looking down at your hands as the memory of it all flickered through your mind. “yeah. it’s... it’s complicated, mom. helping him with all this, seeing him again, after everything... i don’t know if i should be doing it. or if it’s the right thing to do.”

your mom didn’t rush to fill the silence. she just sat with you, giving you space to process the words you were saying. when she finally spoke, her voice was steady and gentle. “sweetheart, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. but helping jeno, creating something beautiful for him and wheein—it sounds like something you’ve been called to do, even if it doesn’t feel that way at first.”

you shook your head, unable to fully articulate the knot in your chest. “i just feel like... like i’m holding onto something that wasn’t even mine to hold on to. and maybe it’s too late. maybe i’m just not ready.”

“no one ever really knows when they’re ready, darling,” your mom said, her voice soft but strong. “but you’ll figure it out, just like you always do. you’ve always had a way with turning pain into something beautiful—your designs, your work. this isn’t any different.”

her words settled around you like a warm blanket. you hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear them until that moment. for the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could stop carrying the weight of everything by yourself.

you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “thanks, mom,” you whispered, feeling the knot loosen just a little.

“anytime, sweetheart,” she said, smiling softly as she reached across the table, her hand brushing yours in quiet reassurance. "just remember, you're more than your work. you're more than this whole mess with jeno. don’t lose yourself in it."

as your mom got up to leave, you hesitated for a moment, your gaze drifting to polo, who was resting comfortably on your lap, looking at you with those big, soulful eyes. a sudden warmth filled your chest. oh how precious and just how much you missed him—how much you missed the comfort of his presence, the way he could make everything feel just a little bit easier.

albeit he was a byproduct of your and jeno’s happier days, polo had also been your greatest comfort when everything fell apart. he’d been there through the highs and the heartache, the laughter and the silence. and now, you couldn’t imagine leaving him behind again—not when he’d stayed by your side through it all.

you stood up, walking toward your mom as she gathered her things. "hey, um... would it be okay if i kept polo with me for a while?" your voice was quieter than usual, but there was a gentle pleading in it, the kind that only your mom would recognise.

she paused, looking at you thoughtfully, then followed your gaze to polo. she smiled softly, that knowing, maternal smile that always made you feel like everything would be alright. "of course, sweetheart. you don't even have to ask, he’s yours!" she brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "he’ll keep you company, and i know he’s good for you."

a wave of gratitude washed over you as you nodded. "thanks, mom. it’ll be good to have him here."

with a final squeeze of your shoulder, she picked up her bag and made her way to the door. but before stepping out, she turned to you once more. “you sure you don’t want to talk to jeno? sometimes saying things out loud can make the ache settle a little easier.”

you offered her a small smile, already shaking your head. “i don’t think there’s anything left to say.”

she didn’t argue. she just gave you one last look—the kind that wrapped around your heart like a hug—and nodded. “alright. just remember you’re not alone in this, y/n.”

and then she was gone.

as soon as the door clicked shut behind her, you turned back to polo, who was now wagging his tail, excited for the attention.

"hey, buddy," you said, bending down to pet him, your fingers running through his soft fur. "you and me, huh? we’re in this together."

polo gave a little bark, his tail wagging furiously. you smiled, letting the comfort of his presence settle over you. for the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel so alone in your thoughts. with him by your side, maybe things could be okay, even if just for tonight.

later that evening, you decided to take polo out for a walk. the sun had dipped just below the horizon, leaving the sky streaked in soft pastels. the air was cool, a little breezy—just enough to tug gently at your sleeves as you strolled down familiar paths.

polo trotted ahead of you, tail wagging like he had all the joy in the world stored in his little body. it felt nice, getting out, no thoughts of deadline hovering over your head, no thoughts of gown waiting for stitches. just the sound of leaves rustling and polo’s paws padding against the sidewalk.

but then, without warning, polo perked up—ears high, body alert—and bolted.

"polo!" you called, instinct kicking in as you broke into a jog after him. "hey, wait—come back!"

he didn’t stop. instead, he raced across the grass toward a figure by the benches. someone tall, familiar. someone you hadn’t seen in days, maybe weeks, not like this—not outside of fitting rooms or quiet studio corners.

you slowed when you recognised him.

lee jeno.

he was crouched down by the time you caught up, already scratching behind polo’s ears like it was second nature. polo, of course, was basking in it—completely ignoring the fact that he had nearly dragged you into a panic.

“hey, buddy,” jeno laughed, rubbing behind his ears. “long time no see, huh?”

you slowly came to a stop, heart pounding—not from the run, but the sight of him. jeno stood up straight, brushing fur off his jacket, his eyes already meeting yours.

"hey." he smiled. not out of politeness, but like he couldn’t help it. "he still remembers me, huh?" jeno looked up with a small smile, eyes soft.

you caught your breath, brushing hair from your face. "yeah... apparently a little too well."

there was a pause. the two of you looking at polo adoringly before snapping back to reality.

"i’ve never seen you around here before," you said, voice cautious but laced with genuine surprise. "i mean... i walk this park almost every week. i didn’t think you lived close.

jeno looked at you, a bit amused. "i live just two streets down..." he stood up slowly, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "guess we’ve just been missing each other."

you nodded, unsure of what to say. the sight of him here, so familiar and casual, was unexpected—too normal for how complicated everything still felt inside.

polo sat between the two of you now, tail sweeping back and forth, completely unaware of the quiet tension. or maybe he knew. maybe he was trying to fix something in the only way he knew how.

jeno looked at you carefully, almost cautiously. “do you… wanna get a drink or something? there’s that pet friendly café just across the street.”

you looked at him, truly looked, and saw someone familiar but distant—like a song you used to know all the lyrics to, now just playing faintly in the background of a memory.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea,” you said gently. “i’ve got things to finish. and…” you paused, eyes falling to polo, then back to him. “i don’t think we’re at that place anymore.”

jeno nodded once. not with disappointment, but with understanding. he knew.

he didn’t press. didn’t try to convince you. there was something almost reverent in the way he stepped back, like he didn’t want to disturb what little calm you’d found which almost made you feel bad instantly.

you saw how his hands were tucked in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched like he was bracing for a storm that might not come. he wasn’t asking for much—not forgiveness, not a second chance. just a conversation.

just a little space to exist with you again, even if it was only across a table, with coffee cooling between you.

“okay,” you said softly.

his head lifted.

“just one drink,” you added quickly, before he could mistake it for something else. “we can talk.”

and something in his expression settled—not joy, not triumph, but something gentler. quieter. like a weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying had lightened, if only by a little.

“thank you,” he said.

you gave a small nod, eyes flickering to polo. “he did this on purpose, you know.”

jeno laughed, a low sound that made your chest ache a little. “he’s always been smarter than us.”

you didn’t argue.

as the two of you walked slowly toward the little café on the corner—polo proudly leading the way—your steps didn’t feel as heavy anymore. maybe it was time to talk. not to reopen wounds, but to stitch them closed.

you weren’t sure what would come of it. but for now, you pray that you have the strength to pull through whatever it's coming for you.

the bell above the café door chimed softly as you stepped inside, the scent of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries curling around you like a familiar memory. polo padded in beside you, tail wagging like he owned the place. jeno followed a few steps behind, respectfully quiet, his hands brushing the sides of his jacket like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

you chose a table by the window—out of habit maybe, or maybe because you needed the distraction of watching people go by, just in case the silence between you and jeno got too loud.

“americano on the rocks for you?” he asked gently, already halfway to the counter.

you nodded without looking at him. he still remembered.

jeno stood in line, eyes fixed ahead, but his thoughts flickered back to you like a film reel. the way you’d smiled at polo, the careful way your shoulders carried weight they didn’t used to. there was distance in your gaze now—measured and intentional. he wasn’t foolish enough to mistake this moment for hope. but still, he was grateful you said yes.

you, meanwhile, sat with your hands folded in your lap, thumb nervously brushing your knuckles. the chair beneath you felt solid, but your thoughts were anything but. you weren’t sure what to say, or why you were even here, really. maybe to prove to yourself that you could be.

jeno came back with two mugs and a glass of water, like he still remembered your caffeine made you thirsty. he placed the drinks down with quiet precision before taking the seat across from you.

“thanks,” you murmured, wrapping your hands around the cup.

for a while, neither of you spoke. it wasn’t uncomfortable—not yet. it was the kind of silence that felt like it was waiting for the right words to arrive.

“so…” he began, then hesitated. “i was surprised to see polo.”

you smiled faintly. “he’s been staying with my mom. she came by just earlier and i don't know... i just wanted him to stay with me again for awhile.”

“ah i see... that's nice.” jeno nods, “he always calmed you down.”

your eyes flicked up to meet his, unsure what to do with the way he said that—like he knew parts of you you’d worked hard to forget.

“yeah. he still does,” you said softly.

jeno looked down at his coffee. “i miss him.”

you could hear the unspoken second half of the sentence. i miss you, too.

but he didn’t say it. and maybe that’s what made it easier to stay.

“he remembers you,” you said instead. “he ran straight to you like no time had passed.”

jeno gave a small smile, eyes warming. “dogs are good at that. forgiveness.”

you didn’t answer. because you weren’t ready to talk about forgiveness—not yours, not his.

“how’s… work?” he asked after a pause.

you snorted lightly. “intense. stressful. emotional. the usual.”

jeno’s expression twisted in something between guilt and fondness. “i didn’t think you’d agree to this. designing… everything.”

you shrugged. “i didn’t either. but i did.”

he nodded slowly, his eyes not meeting yours. “wheein… was the one who suggested your studio,” he said softly, eyes fixed on the table between you. “i didn’t know it was yours. not at first.”

you blinked. that hadn’t come up before. not during the meetings. not in the silences. not when you stared at the sketchbook wondering how the hell you were supposed to draw the silhouette of someone else’s forever.

“when she said she wanted something different,” he continued, “something with more heart, more story… she showed me your brand, and something about it felt familiar. too familiar.”

you said nothing, letting him speak, though your fingers curled a little tighter around polo’s leash.

“i clicked through the pages,” he went on, his voice quieter now. “saw the seams in the way you write. the little details you always loved. i think my heart stopped when i saw the logo.”

he looked up then, and it was like seeing a younger version of him—one that had wandered into something he didn’t expect, and didn’t know how to walk back from.

“i didn’t tell her right away. i didn’t know if i should. but she loved your work. and i…” he paused. “i think i knew you’d say no. so i didn’t reach out. but when she emailed and your assistant replied with a yes... i just held my breath and waited.”

you felt your heart tighten. there it was — that strange twist of fate that had brought them here, to your doorstep, despite everything.

jeno continued, his voice low, "it wasn’t just about the wedding anymore. it was... seeing your name, your work, and knowing that i was going to ask you to help her. to help us. and i didn’t know if that was even fair to you."

you stayed silent, taking in his words. part of you still wanted to retreat, to protect yourself from this conversation that had been years in the making. but there was a part of you that was tired of running, tired of holding onto the past in silence.

“i never meant to hurt you,” he said gently. not the kind of gentle born from caution—but from knowing. from history. “and i don’t think there’s a way to say all this right. but i want to try.”

you didn’t speak. not yet. your eyes were on him, steady and unreadable, though your heart fluttered against your ribs like a bird that hadn’t yet decided if it was safe to fly.

“loving you never stopped feeling like home,” he said. “and for a long time, i thought that was enough.”

“i never wanted to fall for wheein,” his voice was low, tender—like he was speaking into a quiet that had lasted far too long. “i kept choosing you. again and again. even when things felt… off. i told myself that love is a choice, and i kept making it. until one day, it didn’t feel like love anymore. it felt like duty. and that terrified me.”

you could feel your heart tightening, that familiar ache in your chest, like it had never left. you had tried to move on too, hadn’t you? you’d spent so many sleepless nights telling yourself that it was for the best, that this wasn’t meant to be, that everything had a reason. but now, with his words — with the way he was looking at you — you realised just how much you were still holding on.

your heart wanted to leap into your throat, and your mind screamed at you to stop, to tell him that this conversation was too much. that you couldn’t do this.

but he kept talking.

"i kept trying to hold on to something that was slipping away," he said quietly. "and when I realised that... i knew i had to make a choice. not just for me, but for everyone involved. it hurt. it still does. but I had to let go."

“i never stopped loving you,” jeno added, his voice thick with emotion. “but it wasn’t the kind of love that could keep us together.”

the words hit you like a blow to the chest. you swallowed hard, suddenly aware of the way your hands were trembling. you looked at jeno, at the man who used to mean everything to you, and something in your chest twisted painfully.

“jeno,” you started, your voice shaking just slightly, “i don’t think i’m ready for this.” you forced yourself to meet his eyes, to say the words that had been building up inside of you. “i don’t think i’m ready to hear about... her. about your choices. about anything that’s... not us.”

jeno’s eyes softened, regret flickering in his eyes. “i’m not trying to hurt you, y/n. i just wanted you to know where i stood. to explain. i know we can’t change what happened, but i wanted you to understand why it happened.”

the pain in his voice was real, and you could hear it, but the more he spoke, the more you realised that the hurt in your chest wasn’t from him. it was from you. from still feeling so in love with him. from not being ready to let him go. you hadn’t realised it until now, but the reality of it crashed into you like a wave, and you couldn’t ignore it.

“you can’t just explain it away,” you whispered, fighting to keep your voice even. “it’s not that simple, jeno. not for me.”

he leaned in, his gaze never leaving yours. you could see the pain in his eyes, a reflection of your own. “i never meant for this to be so painful."

you nodded slowly. “you’re right. it was hurtful. not because you moved on. but because i was left with all the pieces. and then asked to dress them up.”

that made his head lift, and his eyes brimmed with regret. “i’m sorry. truly. for all of it.”

you held his gaze for a long moment, and when you spoke again, your voice was softer.

“i won’t pretend i’m not still hurting. or that i don’t still carry you with me in so many small, quiet ways.” you paused, choosing your words carefully. “but i also know love isn’t about possession. it’s about care. even when it hurts. even when it ends.”

jeno blinked, visibly moved. he hadn’t expected your grace. he didn’t feel like he deserved it.

the silence settled again, not heavy this time, just... still. like both of you had said what needed to be said, even if it didn’t fix anything. maybe it wasn’t meant to.

you stood slowly, and polo stirred beneath the table, giving a soft stretch and shake before looking up at you with those expectant eyes. jeno stood too, his hands gently resting on the edge of the table like he didn’t quite know what to do with them anymore.

you looked at him for a long second, then offered a small, lopsided smile — the kind you hadn’t worn in a while. the kind that wasn’t full of joy, but had a spark of something lighter buried in it.

“you know,” you said, tugging lightly on polo’s leash, “if i had known we’d run into each other like this, i might’ve at least brushed my hair.”

jeno blinked, then let out a quiet, breathy laugh, his shoulders relaxing. “you look fine,” he said, and then added, a little more softly, “you always do.”

you rolled your eyes, amused despite yourself. “still smooth with the compliments, huh?”

he smiled, and for a flicker of a second, you saw the old jeno — the one who made you laugh at 2am over burnt popcorn and bad movie marathons. the one who once said your laugh was his favorite sound.

but that was then.

now, you gave him a gentle nod as you reached for the café door but then paused. a small thought surfaced — not cold, not distant. just something that needed to be said.

you turned halfway, your hand still on the handle, eyes meeting jeno’s once more.

“by the way,” you said, voice soft but steady, “don’t forget about the fitting. we'll let you know when it's ready."

jeno blinked, then nodded slowly. “right. the tux.”

you offered him the faintest smile, a flicker of professionalism wrapped in something more human. “mark will handle most of it. i’ll just be there to supervise.”

a quiet beat passed between you both — an unspoken understanding that this, too, was part of the process. part of closing the loop.

“i’ll be there,” he said, his voice sincere.

you gave a small nod, then reached down to ruffle polo’s head. “alright, buddy. time to go.”

jeno watched you go — the door chimed softly as it swung open, and the evening air greeted you with a hush. the moon hung low in the sky, pale and full, casting a silvery glow over the quiet street. polo padded ahead, tail wagging, completely unaware of the weight in your chest. you let him lead the way.

you didn’t look back. but if you had, you would've have seen jeno still sitting there, framed by the café window, shoulders heavy with memory, eyes fixed on the place where you had just stood — as if trying to hold on to something that was no longer his to keep.

to be continued...

taglist: @starryeyesspice @bluedbliss @undomielsql @nshitae @starryeyesspice @spicyryujin @m8rkers @haechskiss

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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 9 months ago

Text

When You Need Me Most | Part 4

Jeongin x Reader (implied female but can be read as gn!)

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3

MASTERLIST

It seemed that Jeongin hadn’t realized it only took the bare minimum to kickstart your fall.

And it seemed he took after the most dramatic hyung; thinking grand over the top displays of romance were the key to your fragile heart.

It started with the billboard.

You were on your way to the doctors, your tired eyes staring at the street ahead as you sipped on an iced coffee. You heard honking and looked at what the commotion was about. You realized someone a dozen cars up in the morning traffic was leaning out their window to take a picture of a billboard.

A billboard with your face on it.

Or a painting of your face. A pretty damn accurate one at that.

Damn you Hwang Hyunjin. Can’t you say no to your [precious little baby once in a while?

You felt a flash of embarrassment as you read the words adorning the billboard.

I love you, my nabi - YJ

You moved up in the sea of traffic at the pace of a snail as more and more people were taking pictures.

“Ahhh.” You said honking, feeling frustrated at the weird warmth rising in your chest.

Next it was a flash mob.

You were innocently walking towards the JYP building to bring the boys coffee when you heard familiar music echoing through the streets.

There were people crowded around the building which made sense since it was a hub of activity for many’s favorite idols. But there were way more people than usual.

Confused, you pulled out your earbuds and pushed through the crowd to find a group of masked people that looked oddly familiar in front of the building.

Once you came into sight the music immediately started- some gushy american pop song about love you loved blaring from three separate stereo systems.

Your eyes widened when you realized why these dancers seemed so familiar- ITZY, TWICE, NEXZ, Day6 - the kids obviously.

Your heart sank when you spotted Jeongin in the center, dancing with an infectious smile by the look of his eyes above the mask, his energy radiating as he led the group through your favorite song. As they finished, the crowd erupted into applause, and you felt your face flush with embarrassment.

“What do you think?” he asked, breathless and grinning from ear to ear as he rushed over.

“Think? Jeongin, you can’t just do things like that!” you protested, shaking your head, desperate to maintain your composure. “What the hell are you thinking?!” You grit through your teeth as you hide your face from people who were taking pictures. You were upset; but grateful at the TWICE girls for blocking the cameras that were pointing towards you and I.N. - they had quickly noticed that you were uncomfortable and being girls girls helped out. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you glared at Jeongin.

It's pounding because you're angry Y/N. Not because you’re totally swooning over this. Not because the crowd thinks we’re cute together and keeps chanting for me to accept…not because this is the most romantic thing I’ve experienced. It's because I’m angry. You tried to convince yourself.

“But I wanted you to know how much you mean to me!” he argued, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Now basically the entire company knows. And they support.” He said stubbornly.

“You’re insufferable, Yang Jeongin.” You said. He grabbed the coffee carriers from your hands and let out a soft giggle, the moment he turned away a smile resting on your face for a split second.

Days turned into weeks, and Jeongin’s antics only escalated. There was the movie theater rental. Then the 1000 roses.

The fucking blimp.

“Why do you keep doing this?” you demanded one evening, arms crossed and lips pressed tightly together. “This is ridiculous!”

Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment. Jeongin had invited you out to dinner and you were surprised by a serenade from the waiting staff. The attention from everyone made you feel like a bug under a microscope.

“Because I love you!” he shot back, a mix of frustration and affection in his voice. “Why can’t you see that?”

You huffed, trying to hold your ground. “Love isn’t supposed to be all...this! It’s supposed to be normal! I mean, you could just text me like a normal person! Or like take me on a normal date where I don’t have an entire restaurant singing me Frank Sinatra.”

“I want everyone to know how I feel! Especially you. Which is why I do it in public.” he responded, seemingly oblivious to your embarrassment.

“Your public image is at stake! What do you think people will say?”

His eyes dimmed momentarily but then brightened again with determination. “I don’t care what they say if it means making you smile! Which believe it or not Y/N I know you like these romantic gestures.”

“What’s next, Jeongin? A plane with a message?” you snapped.

“Would you like that?” he teased, his playful nature unyielding.

“My point is when is it going to stop?”

“When you become my girlfriend. So the ball is in your court Nabi-”

“Jeongin!” you groaned, frustrated. “This needs to stop! You’re making it impossible for me to breathe!”

He looked at you, genuine hurt in his eyes. “But Y/N-ah.” He whined. “I just wanted to make you feel loved.”

“No more Jeongin or the deal is off. You’re going to ruin your public image if you-”

You watched Jeongin shake his head at something behind you and when you turned you saw someone with a shocked and regretful face watching as a small heard of tiny dogs rushed at you. All with flowers in their mouths, and wagging tails as they dropped them at your feet and jumping up on their hind legs like circus performers.

You heard Jeongin groan in embarrassment.

You felt a mix of warmth and irritation flood you like a tidal wave. Such powerful emotions you felt tears fall from your eyes. “It’s too much! I love you, but I can’t handle this! You’re insane Yang Jeongin.” You couldn’t help but smile as the tears continued to fall, squatting down to pet the dogs as they happily yipped and lapped up your tears.

He blinked, confusion clouding his expression. “What did you say?”

You laughed and started wiping at your tears, not knowing what you were feeling.

“What?” You laughed out, not able to control the smile on your face, as you watched the dogs make their way back to who you assumed to be their trainer.

“You…said you loved me.”

You looked up at Jeongin, his face a mixture of shock and hope and excitement.

You quickly replayed the words you had said and your eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t mean- I meant-”

Before you could finish, he stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands, his sincerity palpable. “You love me?” His eyes were wide and curious.

You felt your heart flutter, torn between annoyance and the undeniable warmth swelling within you. You had never been one to slip up your words badly, rather you said what was constantly on your mind.

But you were stubborn. Even though you knew you were so undoubtedly in love with him.

“Jeongin, you can’t just-”

His lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative, igniting a spark that made you forget your stubborn resolve. When he pulled away, his eyes searched yours, hopeful yet vulnerable. “This is the happiest moment in my entire life.”

You sighed, a rueful laugh bubbling up in your chest. “Me saying I love you is the happiest moment in your life?” You asked in disbelief.

“Hm.” He said with a sharp nod, eyes twinkling.

“What about your debut?”

“No. Nothing compared to this.” His energy was infectious, and before you could say anything else, Jeongin started bouncing up and down like a little kid who had just received the best gift in the world. His excitement was so intense that it became less of a bounce and more of a shake, his whole body trembling with joy.

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips as you watched him. “Jeongin, stop. You look ridiculous,” you said, though the fondness in your voice was undeniable.

He grinned wider, shaking even harder. “I don’t care. You love me, Y/N. You said it. That’s all I care about!”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the warmth that flooded your chest. “You’re seriously acting like a child right now.”

"Then I guess I’m a child in love," he shot back with a wink, still practically vibrating with excitement. "You don’t understand, Y/N. You saying that… it means everything to me." His voice wavered, growing softer.

Suddenly, the bravado slipped away, and his eyes started to gloss over with tears. “I’m so happy, Nabi,” he whispered, his lips trembling as he pouted, struggling to hold back his emotions. His usually bright, mischievous demeanor melted into something raw, something unguarded, and the sight of it made your chest tighten.

You swallowed hard, caught between wanting to comfort him and feeling overwhelmed by the weight of it all. “Jeongin, I…”

He took a shaky breath, blinking rapidly as if trying to fight off the tears, but they brimmed at the corners of his eyes. “I know I’m ridiculous,” he laughed softly, the sound shaky. “I know the billboard, the roses, the flash mobs… all of it was too much. But I didn’t know how else to show you. I wanted you to see how much I-”

“Stop,” you cut him off gently, your heart aching as you reached out to grab his hand, squeezing it tight. “It’s not that I don’t see it, Jeongin. I see it. But…” you gestured vaguely in the air, your voice trembling. “You’re risking everything- your career, your image- all for me. I don’t want you to jeopardize all of that because of some grand gestures.”

His face fell, and for a moment, you feared you’d broken something fragile between you. He pulled his hand away from yours, running it through his hair in frustration. “I don’t care about my image, Y/N. I care about you. How many times do I have to tell you? You’re not listening!”

“I am listening. But you’re not being reasonable. You should care!” you blurted, your frustration finally spilling out. “You’ve worked your whole life to get here, to be where you are. And I’m just-”

“Don’t you dare say you’re just anyone,” Jeongin interrupted, his voice sharper now, filled with emotion. “You’re not just someone, Y/N. You’re my someone.”

You stared at him, your pulse racing, feeling the weight of his words between you. His eyes were wide, shining with sincerity.

“I don’t care what anyone says about us. About me. I don’t care what I have to give up, because you-” he stepped closer, his hands cupping your face so gently, his thumbs brushing away a tear that you didn’t even realize had fallen, “-are worth more than any career, any public image, or any of this.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat as his words settled into your heart, breaking through the walls you had tried to keep up. It was terrifying, knowing he was willing to sacrifice so much, just for you.

“Jeongin…” you whispered, shaking your head. “I love you. So much I’m scared sometimes.”

His eyes softened, and he gave you a bittersweet smile. “I love you too.” He said it so casually, like it was the easiest thing in the world for him, but it hit you like a tidal wave.

“What if-” you stammered, your heart racing. “What if-”

If this ends badly. You wanted to say. But you had no room because he leaned down without hesitation and kissed you.

It was soft, hesitant, and full of every unsaid word that had been hanging between you for so long.

Well, unsaid on your end.

The world seemed to slow around you, the chaos fading as his lips moved gently against yours, and for the first time in a while, you felt like everything made sense.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath coming out shaky. “You keep trying to say you didn’t mean to say it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “But I’m glad you did. Even if its not true…”

You opened your eyes slowly, looking up at him, completely disarmed. “It is true. It’s the truest thing I’ve ever said.” Your voice was barely audible, and Jeongin let out a relieved laugh.

“Thank God,” he said, placing his forehead on yours with a soft smile. “I’ll stop the blimps, the billboards, the flash mobs.” His hands slid from your face, falling to rest gently on your waist, his grip warm and steady. “I’ll stop all of it, if that’s what you want.” His nose brushed against your cheek, eliciting a soft giggle from you as he gave you feather light kisses.

You stared at him, your heart aching, unsure of how to respond. He was offering you everything, offering to quiet the chaos he had created, just for you. And yet, there was a part of you that realized something.

It wasn’t the grand gestures that overwhelmed you- it was the fact that they were for you.

“I didn’t need all of that,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t need the blimp or the roses or the billboard to know how you feel. I’ve known for a while…I was just too afraid to admit it.”

Jeongin’s brows furrowed in confusion.

You sighed, shaking your head. “It scared me. Loving you- being loved by you- it scared me. I was afraid that we’d lose everything we had if we…if we crossed that line. That we would end up like…” You frowned. “You're special to me, Innie. I didn’t want love to ruin anything.”

He let out a small, incredulous laugh, his eyes filled with so much warmth it nearly broke you. His eyes crinkled into those cute mischievous ones you loved oh so much. “Y/N, love isn’t what ruins things. It’s not love that causes the problems. It’s fear. Fear of messing up, fear of losing control. Fear that we’ll get hurt. And it’s not even really the fear. Its letting that fear control you.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting too close to home. “But what if we do mess up? What if we ruin everything?”

He smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “We probably will. But that’s life, isn’t it? We’re going to mess up, we’re going to make mistakes. But that doesn’t mean we should stop loving each other. Or that we’re going to. You just have to push past those fears; those mistakes made, arguments had. You push past them and then your love grows stronger.”

Tears stung at the back of your eyes as you met his gaze, feeling the sincerity in his every word. He was right- love wasn’t the problem. It was the fear of it, the fear of losing something so good that kept you from truly letting go.

“You’re strangely profound tonight, Jeongin.” You giggled, more tears threatening to go. You cupped his cheek and caressed it, as he leaned into your touch looking you in the eyes. “Where’d my Innie go?”

“He grew up so he could take better care of you.” He responded softly. “I love you,” he said again, his voice full of quiet conviction. “And I don’t need a thousand roses or a flashing billboard to prove it. I just need you to trust me. Trust that we’ll figure it out together. Trust me that I’m not going to hurt you like everyone else. Trust me that I’m going to be there for you when you need me most.”

You bit your lip, nodding as a tear finally slipped down your cheek. “I do. I trust you.”

Jeongin smiled, his thumb brushing away your tears. “Good. Because I’m all in, Nabi. No more over-the-top gestures. Just…you and me.”

You let out a shaky laugh, leaning into him as he pulled you into his arms. “Just you and me,” you whispered, finally feeling the weight you thought would never leave lift from your chest.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

Two Years Later

The stadium was alive with the kind of energy only a sold-out show could create. The crowd roared with excitement, thousands of fans screaming as Stray Kids performed their final song of the night. You watched from backstage, your heart racing with pride as Jeongin worked the stage like the pro he was, every movement precise and electric.

He caught your eye for a brief second from across the stage and flashed that familiar grin, the one that still made your stomach flip even after all these years. You smiled back, knowing that even after everything, he was still the same Jeongin- your Jeongin. The one who would text you random memes at 2 a.m., who would bring you snacks even when you didn’t ask, who had once rented out an entire billboard just to make sure you knew how much he loved you.

It had been quiet since then. After that night two years ago, the grand gestures stopped. No more blimps, no more flash mobs, no more roses delivered in bulk to your door. It was just the two of you now, living a quieter kind of love- a love that didn’t need to shout to be heard.

But something in the way he looked at you tonight was different. His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischief, and you felt a twinge of curiosity in your gut.

As the final notes of the song faded out, Jeongin took a step forward, raising his hand to signal for the crowd to quiet down. His bandmates exchanged glances, a few of them smiling knowingly, and you furrowed your brows.

Something was definitely up.

“Thank you for tonight!” Jeongin shouted into the mic, in English his voice echoing through the stadium. His accent made you smile and you wanted to pinch his cheeks like the cute little baby bread he was- even if the way he looked now made him seem like “daddy toast” as Stay had put it oh so perfectly. The crowd cheered wildly in response, and you chuckled to yourself, always amazed at how much love and support he had.

But then, his voice softened. "Before we go...I, um...I have something I want to say. Or, well, maybe something I need to do." He glanced backstage, locking eyes with you again, and your stomach flipped for an entirely different reason this time.

Your eyes widened as he waved you over, the spotlight suddenly shifting in your direction. The crowd let out a collective gasp as they realized who he was looking at, murmurs of recognition rippling through the audience.

“Y/N-ah,” he called, his smile growing impossibly wider and his dimple showing. “Can you come out here for a second?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and your feet felt glued to the floor. The staff nudged you forward, and you hesitated for a moment before stepping onto the stage. As you approached, Jeongin held out his hand, his eyes glowing with something beyond excitement- something deeper, more vulnerable.

Once you reached him, he took your hand in his, his grip steady and warm despite the fact that the stadium was roaring with thousands of fans. You could feel the eyes of every person in the room on you, but all you could focus on was him- Jeongin, standing there with that look in his eyes that made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

“I know I promised no more grand gestures,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “And I’ve been good, haven’t I?”

You chuckled nervously, nodding. “Yeah, you have.”

Jeongin grinned, but then his expression shifted, becoming more serious. “But the thing is…I lied.”

The crowd erupted in laughter, but you stood there, frozen in place, not sure what to expect.

He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. “A few nights ago, I was drunk- like, really drunk- and I was crying. Like full-on sobbing to the guys. And you walked in and saw me crying and the guys recording me…?” He looked at you with an expectant gaze.

And it clicked.

You felt tears starting to form.

Jeongin spoke again, turning to Stay for just a moment. “For context I was crying because I was so drunk that I saw a picture of Y/N and I and was sad because I thought the person I loved most had a boyfriend.” He chuckled. “Even thought I was literally looking at a picture of us- and I am Y/N’s boyfriend.”

The crowd bursted out laughing again, knowing that was on point for their precious maknae.

Jeongin bit his lip, his eyes glistening with emotion. “But then my hyungs started recording again because I started crying again. Harder this time.” He swallowed. “Because I realized that I’m not your husband.”

Your breath hitched, and your heart felt like it was about to leap out of your chest. The crowd gasped, murmurs sweeping through the stadium again, but all you could focus on was Jeongin- his trembling lips, the way his hands shook just slightly as he held yours.

“I kept telling myself that I didn’t need to do something crazy to prove how much I love you. But then I realized…I want to. I want to do one last grand gesture.”

With that, he slowly dropped to one knee.

Your hands flew to your mouth, your eyes filling with tears as you realized what was happening. Deep down you knew he was going to propose once he brought up that story, but for some reason you didn’t believe it. But now there was no denying it.

The entire stadium fell silent, the weight of the moment settling in like a wave crashing down.

Jeongin looked up at you, his smile trembling as he pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. “Baby…I know I’ve been over the top before. I know I’ve done a lot of wild, stupid things. But this isn’t one of them. This-” he opened the box to reveal a stunning ring, the lights catching the diamonds in a way that made it sparkle like a star, “ - is the one thing I’m doing because I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.”

Your breath hitched, your vision blurring as tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Will you marry me, Nabi?” His voice cracked slightly, the vulnerability in his words breaking your heart in the best way possible. “Because I can’t imagine a life where I’m not the one by your side. I don’t need blimps or billboards. I just need you.”

The silence in the stadium was deafening, every single person holding their breath as they waited for your answer.

You swallowed hard, your voice shaking as you whispered, “Yes. Yes, Innie.”

The crowd exploded in cheers, the noise so loud it felt like the stadium itself might burst apart. But all you could hear was the sound of your heartbeat rising in your ears, pounding in your chest as Jeongin stood up, pulling you into his arms.

He kissed you then, in front of thousands of screaming fans, in the middle of the most important moment of both your lives. It was soft, gentle, and filled with so much love that it made your knees weak.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and laughing through your tears, Jeongin looked down at you with the same adoring smile he’d always had. “I guess I broke my promise about no more grand gestures, huh?”

You chuckled, wiping at your tears. “I think I’ll let this one slide.”

Jeongin grinned, his eyes sparkling as he slid the ring onto your finger. “Good. Because this is the only one that really mattered.”

You looked at the ring then up at Jeongin who was crying now too. Suddenly, it all became too much. The adrenaline, the disbelief, the overwhelming joy- it hit you like a tidal wave. You turned away from Jeongin, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, and squatted down, covering your face with your hands. The tears came pouring out uncontrollably, your entire body trembling as you tried to process everything that had just happened.

The cheers from the crowd were deafening, but you could still hear the boys- your boys; you family -in the background, reacting to what had just unfolded.

Lee Know tried to maintain his composure, but even he couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that broke through. He was crying, full fledged crying and clinging to Changbin which was a strange and unfamiliar sight to you. Changbin’s grin was impossibly wide, despite the tears rolling down his face. He leaned into Lee Know, giving him a hard smack on the back as if to say, “Can you believe this? Our maknae - our little baby did it.”

Chan, had crumbled into a full sob as well, his shoulders shaking as he wiped furiously at his eyes, looking at Jeongin with a mixture of pride and disbelief. He was holding onto Han, who was also crying but trying to comfort his hyung at the same time, patting his back as tears streamed down his own cheeks.

Felix, Hyunjin and Seungmin were all huddled up crying as well, trying to pull someone up onto the stage. You couldn’t help but let out an excited squeal as your favorite Aussie - sorry Channie, sorry Lix - came running to you from the crowd.

She didn’t care as she pushed Jeongin out of the way to fall onto the ground and hug her best friend.

“Oh my GOD!! Y/N, my love!!” Hannah cried as she clung to you, pulling back to look at your face.

All of them - every single one of them - were crying, their hearts bursting with happiness for the youngest member of their group, the boy they’d watched grow from a shy teenager into a man who was standing on stage, proposing to the love of his life.

And Stay…Stay was losing their minds.

It was as if they didn’t know whether to cheer, cry, or scream. Some fans had tears streaming down their faces, waving their lightsticks in support. A collective wave of emotion washed through the crowd as the realization hit- Jeongin, their precious maknae, was in love. Truly, deeply in love. And it wasn’t just some fleeting romance; it was real, profound, the kind of love you could only dream about.

Some fans covered their faces in disbelief, others jumped up and down in pure joy, and more than a few had collapsed into sobs, overwhelmed by the moment. Their phones were held high in the air, capturing every second of this life-altering event. They knew this wasn’t just a regular concert anymore- it was history in the making. Probably the most elaborate proposal one had seen. A story that would be told for years to come.

Jeongin stood there, watching you cling to Hannah with a soft, tender smile, and then, without saying a word, he crouched down beside you. He didn’t pull you up immediately, just rested a gentle hand on your back, giving you the space you needed to breathe, to process. After a moment, you peeked up at him through your fingers, a half-sob, half-laugh escaping your lips as you took in his watery smile.

“I’m really sorry for this,” Jeongin murmured, his voice still shaky with emotion, “but I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You shook your head, laughing through your tears as you wiped at your face. “I should’ve known you’d find a way to break your promise.”

He chuckled softly, his hand still rubbing comforting circles on your back. “Just this one time. I couldn’t help it, Nabi.”

Finally, you stood up, still feeling weak in the knees, Hannah letting you use her as a crutch, and Jeongin pulled you into his arms. He held you so tight it was as if he was afraid you might slip away, his chin resting on top of your head as you both soaked in the moment. He pet your hair as the rest of the boys crowded around, not caring about the stage or the cameras. One by one, they pulled you and Jeongin into the tightest, warmest group hug you’d ever been a part of - Hannah stubbornly pushing past her brother to join - each of them sniffling and wiping their eyes as they squeezed you both.

Lee Know, still crying, ruffled Jeongin’s hair with a grin, “I can’t believe you actually did it.”

“I can’t believe I’m crying,” Han muttered through his tears, which made everyone laugh.

“I can you’re a crybaby.” Seungmin said through his now quieted tears, which only made everyone laugh even harder.

Chan gave you a squeeze, patting your head, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so proud of you, Jeongin.”

You glanced up at Jeongin through the sea of arms wrapped around you, his face still glowing with pure happiness. As the boys and your best friend slowly pulled away, Jeongin took a deep breath, turning to face the crowd one last time. He was still holding your hand, his fingers laced tightly with yours as he raised your joined hands in the air.

“I just have one last thing to say,” he began, his voice resonating through the stadium as the audience quieted down. He looked at you with so much love, his eyes soft and bright. “A message for Stays.”

He looked at you and you nodded, having a sixth sense to what he would say.

Jeongin stood there, his voice steady but full of emotion, addressing not just you but every single person in the crowd. His hand, still holding yours, gave a reassuring squeeze, but his eyes drifted over the sea of fans- his Stays. His heart was laid bare, his words filled with a kind of truth that could only come from experiencing love in its rawest form.

“The problem is never that you loved someone or someone loved you…” he continued, his voice resonating across the stadium. “It’s how you choose to handle that love. How you react when it gets hard, when it feels overwhelming, when you’re scared of it. But love itself? Love doesn’t hurt you. People do. Choices do. But love…love heals.”

He took a deep breath, his gaze now sweeping the audience as if speaking to each of them personally. “I know some of you might feel like love is scary. That it’s a risk, that it can break you, or ruin things, or mess with everything you’ve worked for. But love doesn’t destroy. It builds you up. It pushes you to be the best version of yourself. It’s what makes life worth it.”

The crowd, which had been buzzing with excitement, grew silent, every word sinking into the hearts of those watching. Tears filled the eyes of fans as Jeongin’s vulnerability hit them all at once. The sincerity in his voice made it impossible not to feel the weight of his message.

“I know sometimes it feels easier to give up on love, to protect yourself from the possibility of getting hurt. But the truth is…love will always be there, waiting for you to embrace it. When you shut it out, you’re shutting out the best parts of yourself.” His voice softened, but the emotion behind it was more powerful than ever. “When you need someone the most, when you feel like you can’t do it alone, love will always be there. That’s what love is for.”

A gentle breeze seemed to sweep through the arena, carrying his words like a warm hug. He glanced at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he turned back to the crowd.

“So, don’t be afraid of it. Don’t run from it. Don’t think it’ll ruin things, because love will only ruin you if you don’t give it a chance. Trust me, I’ve had to teach that to people firsthand.” He turned to you and kissed your forehead.

“And I thought that I had to prove that fact with grand gestures, but in the end, all that matters is being there. When someone needs you most.”

He whispered to you.

“When you need me most, I’ll be there. That’s love.”

With that, he leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, sealing the promise that he had made- not just to you, but to everyone who believed in love.

You smiled through your tears, reaching up to touch his cheek gently as you two kissed.

When you had needed him most he had shown up.

You had always needed him. And he had always been there.

And you knew he’d always would be.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @0325tiny @mademoisellebruce

@stressymessyana @axel-skz-main @desi2go

@adirajackson @hyunjinsbelovedamericano @yaniiiiism

(i tagged those who had commented, just so they could know the final part was up since its been a minute since this fic was updated :3)

140 notes · View notes

princessseeun · 16 days ago

Text

"If You Knew"

🎵You Were Beautiful - DAY6🎵

pairings: jeonghyeon x m!reader

genre: angst, fluff

a.n. : anon requested, lowk cried, @bernardsbendystraws

The sun was warm, the breeze gentle, and the rooftop was quiet — just the way M/n liked it. It had become their little tradition over the years: lunch on the rooftop, away from the noisy cafeteria, away from everyone else. Just the two of them.

Jeonghyeon always said it was his favorite part of the day.

Today was no different. M/n watched as Jeonghyeon plopped down next to him, the boy’s hair sticking up in the back from rushing to school. He always slept in, always barely made it before the bell. M/n’s hand itched to reach out, to smooth it down like he always did — but this time, he hesitated.

His feelings had started to overflow lately, building up like rain in a cup too small to hold it all. He wasn’t sure when it got this bad. Maybe it was when Jeonghyeon started leaning his head on his shoulder during study periods. Maybe it was when he started sharing his drinks without a second thought. Or maybe it was when Jeonghyeon started talking about someone else.

“You won’t believe it,” Jeonghyeon said between bites of kimbap. His eyes sparkled in that way that always knocked the air out of M/n’s lungs. “I think I have a crush on someone.”

M/n’s chopsticks froze in midair. His throat tightened, but he forced a smile, just like always. “Oh yeah? Who?”

Jeonghyeon shrugged, grinning. “Someone in Class 3. I don't know… he's just cool. I kind of want to get closer to him.”

That was the thing about Jeonghyeon — when he liked someone, he never held back. He went all in. And M/n knew, deep down, that Jeonghyeon would never look at him like that.

But still, he sat there, listening, nodding, giving advice, pretending he wasn’t breaking apart inside.

“You think I should confess soon?” Jeonghyeon asked, nudging M/n’s arm playfully. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever been good at this stuff.”

M/n forced a laugh. “Yeah, go for it. Why not?”

His heart whispered, Because I want you to like me instead.

Jeonghyeon beamed, satisfied with the answer. “You’re the best, you know that? I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Be fine, M/n thought bitterly. You’d be fine without me.

But the words never came out. They stayed stuck in his throat, where all his other unsaid things lived.

They finished their lunch, like always. They walked home together, like always. Jeonghyeon talked about his favorite video games, his plans for the weekend, the homework he didn’t want to do — and M/n listened, like always.

When they reached Jeonghyeon’s house, he waved, that same easy smile on his face. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” M/n said softly. “Like always.”

But that night, as M/n stared at the ceiling in the dark, he realized something had changed.

I can’t keep pretending forever, he thought. But if I tell him… I might lose him. And if I stay like this… it hurts.

He pressed his hands over his chest, trying to hold himself together.

It’s okay. I’m just happy to be by your side. Even if you never know.

The school festival was just around the corner, and the whole campus buzzed with excitement. Colorful banners hung in the hallways, class booths were under construction, and students ran around rehearsing performances.

M/n, as always, was on cleanup duty with Jeonghyeon — not because they were assigned to it, but because Jeonghyeon had dragged him into it.

“You know you’re basically my manager at this point,” Jeonghyeon joked, balancing a stack of paint cans in his arms. “What would I do without you?”

You’d do just fine, M/n wanted to say, but instead, he forced a smile and grabbed the brushes. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just finish this before sunset.”

They spent the whole afternoon painting the backdrop for Jeonghyeon’s class performance. M/n knelt down, carefully tracing the outlines, while Jeonghyeon carelessly flicked paint at him when he got bored.

“Hey,” Jeonghyeon said after a long silence. “Do you think… if I confessed during the festival, it would be too much?”

M/n’s hand froze mid-stroke. His heartbeat echoed in his ears. He looked up slowly, his voice barely steady. “You’re really serious about him, huh?”

Jeonghyeon’s grin softened, something fond glimmering in his eyes. “Yeah. He's cool, you know? It’s probably stupid, but I think I really like him.”

M/n felt the weight of the brush in his hand like it was made of lead. His chest squeezed painfully, but he nodded anyway. “Then you should do it.”

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to be the one Jeonghyeon looked at like that.

But he stayed where he was — on the floor, on the sidelines. The second lead in his own story.

Days passed, and M/n helped Jeonghyeon plan the confession. He helped pick out gifts, design the little festival surprise, and even rehearsed what Jeonghyeon should say. Every time Jeonghyeon smiled and said “You’re the best,” it chipped away at M/n’s heart a little more.

Their rooftop lunches became shorter. M/n found excuses to leave early. He told himself it was better this way — to pull back before he shattered completely.

But Jeonghyeon noticed.

One afternoon, as they packed up after class, Jeonghyeon grabbed his wrist. “You’ve been weird lately. Did I do something wrong?”

M/n flinched. “No, you didn’t.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” Jeonghyeon’s voice cracked just a little. “I don’t like it when you’re not around. You know that, right?”

Don’t say things like that. Don’t make me hope.

M/n yanked his hand back, forcing a shaky laugh. “I’ve just been busy. It’s not a big deal.”

But Jeonghyeon wasn’t convinced. His brows furrowed, his gaze searching. “You’re lying to me.”

M/n’s chest burned. His throat was dry. He wanted to tell him. He wanted to scream it in his face. I LIKE YOU. I’VE ALWAYS LIKED YOU. PLEASE, JUST LOOK AT ME.

But instead, he said softly, “Let’s just focus on your confession. That’s more important, right?”

Jeonghyeon stared at him like he didn’t understand. Like M/n was speaking a language he couldn’t hear.

“Yeah,” Jeonghyeon mumbled eventually, letting go. “Yeah, okay.”

The festival arrived in a blur of lights and laughter. M/n went through the motions, helping with decorations, manning a booth, pretending to be fine.

When Jeonghyeon finally confessed — behind the gym, just like they planned — M/n wasn’t there to watch. He couldn’t bear it.

Instead, he sat on their rooftop, head in his hands, trying not to fall apart.

When Jeonghyeon found him later, his face was unreadable. “They said no.”

M/n’s head shot up, surprised. “What?”

“They turned me down.” Jeonghyeon sat beside him, hugging his knees. “They said… they think I like someone else. I don’t get it.”

M/n’s heart thudded painfully. His voice trembled. “Do you?”

Jeonghyeon went quiet. The city lights flickered below them, the distant sound of festival music filling the silence.

“…I don’t know.” Jeonghyeon’s voice was soft, almost scared. “But when I think about who I wanted to see after being rejected… I thought of you.”

M/n’s breath caught in his throat. His heart was pounding so loud he was sure Jeonghyeon could hear it.

But he said nothing. Not yet.

Because maybe, just maybe, this story wasn’t over yet.

After the festival, something between them shifted.

Jeonghyeon didn’t talk about his crush anymore. Didn’t bring up the rejection. Didn’t push M/n for answers.

But he also didn’t leave M/n alone.

If anything, he clung harder — dragging him to convenience stores after school, pestering him to join group projects, messaging him late into the night with the same question over and over.

“Are you okay?”

And M/n always lied.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t.

Every forced smile chipped away at him. Every shared moment felt like standing at the edge of a cliff — the wind always ready to push him over.

He stopped showing up to rooftop lunches. Stopped walking home with Jeonghyeon. Stopped replying right away.

And still, Jeonghyeon chased him.

“M/n.”

Jeonghyeon cornered him one afternoon by the shoe lockers. His usual grin was gone — replaced by something tight and strained.

“You’re avoiding me again.”

M/n’s heart sank. He adjusted his bag, keeping his gaze low. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Liar.” Jeonghyeon stepped closer. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Then why won’t you look at me anymore?”

His voice cracked, and it almost broke M/n’s resolve. Almost.

“You don’t need me around all the time, you know,” M/n muttered, trying to sidestep him.

But Jeonghyeon grabbed his wrist — tightly this time. The same wrist he used to hold so casually.

“I do need you,” Jeonghyeon said, desperation seeping through his words. “Why can’t you see that?”

M/n’s chest burned. His throat ached. The words pressed against his teeth, begging to be let out — I like you. I love you. I’ve always—

But instead, he yanked his hand free and walked away. He didn’t dare look back.

He thought Jeonghyeon would eventually give up. Thought he’d move on. Thought he’d forget.

But Jeonghyeon didn’t.

It was during festival cleanup week that M/n’s body finally gave out.

A fever hit him hard, exhaustion piling on after weeks of sleepless nights and skipped meals. He collapsed on his desk after school, cold sweat clinging to his skin. He barely registered his classmates panicking around him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in the nurse’s office — Jeonghyeon sitting beside him, his usual jacket now draped over M/n’s shoulders.

“You’re such an idiot,” Jeonghyeon whispered, gently pressing a cold pack to his forehead. His voice trembled. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

M/n’s throat was dry. His head was heavy. His whole body ached.

But even in his fever haze, the ache in his chest hurt more.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” M/n croaked weakly.

Jeonghyeon’s brows furrowed. “You’re never a bother to me. Never.”

M/n turned his head away, tears pricking at his eyes.

Jeonghyeon reached out, gripping his hand tightly. “Stop pulling away from me. I don’t understand why you keep doing this. I don’t want to lose you too.”

Something in Jeonghyeon’s voice cracked. There was real fear in his words, trembling like he was standing on thin ice.

M/n’s heart clenched.

Half-conscious, walls crumbling, he whispered, “It’s because I like you, stupid.”

Silence.

It took M/n a second to realize what he just said.

But his body was too tired to panic. His mouth just… kept moving.

“I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. I know you don’t feel the same but—” His voice shook. “—but it hurts too much to keep pretending.”

His vision blurred with tears. “So please… just let me go. Stop chasing me.”

Because the more you chase me, the more I hope. And hope is cruel.

His eyelids drooped. The world turned quiet.

The last thing he heard was Jeonghyeon’s soft, broken whisper: “Don’t… don’t let go.”

When M/n woke up, Jeonghyeon was gone. So was his jacket.

But there was a note on the table, scrawled in Jeonghyeon’s messy handwriting:

Wait for me. Please wait.

Jeonghyeon ran.

He didn’t know where his feet were taking him, didn’t know how to quiet the storm in his chest, didn’t know how to process the words M/n had just said.

I like you.

They echoed in his head like a broken record. His pulse thundered in his ears. His mouth was dry.

I like you.

He thought back to everything. The lunches. The late-night calls. The walks home. The way M/n always looked at him with something soft, something heavy, something Jeonghyeon didn’t understand—until now.

How could he have been so stupid?

The person he wanted to see when he was sad, when he was happy, when he was bored— The person he wanted to tell every little thing to— The person who made his day better by just existing—

It was always M/n.

How did he not see it sooner?

It wasn’t just friendship. It never was.

He thought about how M/n had slowly pulled away, how Jeonghyeon had panicked, how he chased him without knowing why it hurt so much to be left behind.

You keep chasing me… but the more you chase me, the more I hope.

Jeonghyeon’s chest twisted painfully.

You’re allowed to hope, he thought fiercely. I want you to hope. I want you to believe I feel the same. Because I do. I do.

He turned on his heel, sprinting back toward the school.

By the time he burst into the nurse’s office, M/n was already sitting up, looking dazed and exhausted, clutching Jeonghyeon’s jacket like it was the only thing holding him together.

Their eyes met.

M/n opened his mouth—probably to apologize, to take it back, to tell him to forget it.

Jeonghyeon didn’t let him.

He crossed the room in three steps, dropped to his knees in front of him, and cupped his face with both hands. His heart was pounding so loud, so hard, but his voice came out steady.

“I like you too.”

M/n blinked, like he didn’t hear it.

“I like you,” Jeonghyeon said again, firmer this time, like he could hammer the truth into the space between them. “I think I’ve always liked you. I just didn’t get it. I thought it was just—you know, you’re my best friend, right? Of course I want you around. Of course I care about you more than anyone else. Of course I get jealous when you spend time with other people. I just—”

He laughed, breathless and teary-eyed. “I was so stupid.”

M/n’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his voice cracking. “You’re serious?”

Jeonghyeon leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m serious. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

M/n’s hands trembled as they gripped Jeonghyeon’s sleeves. “But you liked someone else.”

Jeonghyeon shook his head, eyes closing. “I liked the idea of liking them. But when I got rejected, the only person I wanted to see was you. The only person who makes me feel… like this… is you.”

M/n’s chest heaved. “It’s not just pity?”

“Hey,” Jeonghyeon pulled back, frowning softly, cupping his cheeks with both hands. “I don’t pity you. I love you.”

It felt natural, like breathing. Like the words had always been sitting on his tongue, waiting to fall into place.

M/n’s lips trembled. “You… you can’t just say that so easily.”

“Why not? It’s true.” Jeonghyeon grinned, finally — that familiar, boyish grin that had always made M/n’s heart skip. “I love you. I love you so much, you idiot.”

M/n’s eyes welled with tears, and Jeonghyeon wiped them away with his thumbs.

“Do you forgive me for being late?” Jeonghyeon whispered.

M/n let out a shaky laugh, leaning into his touch. “Yeah. I forgive you.”

“Good,” Jeonghyeon smiled. “Because I’m gonna spend every day making it up to you.”

And he sealed his promise with a soft, lingering kiss — gentle, a little clumsy, but warm enough to melt away all the months of aching.

When they pulled apart, Jeonghyeon pressed their foreheads together again and whispered, “Let’s have lunch on the rooftop tomorrow?”

M/n’s heart finally felt light again. “Yeah,” he smiled. “Like always.”

But this time, it would be different. This time, he wouldn’t have to pretend anymore. This time, they were in the same story.

Together.

#male idol x male reader #kpop x male reader #x male reader #mlm #evnne #evnne jeonghyeon #jeonghyeon x male reader #evnne x male reader #angst

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aleskie · 8 months ago

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BEAUTIFUL | Nico Hischier x Reader

SUMMARY: Nico lives with your ghost. And yet, he still thinks you're the most beautiful thing he's ever had.

Word Count: 1.7k Warnings: no warnings but imagine breaking nico hischier's heart. couldn't be me. but here's what it might look like if you did. ♫ Listen: You Were Beautiful by Day6 ♫

Nico wakes up to the soft sound of his alarm and the faint rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains. His hand instinctively reaches across the bed, expecting warmth, only to find cold, empty sheets. He blinks himself awake, staring at the space beside him, trying to make sense of the empty side of the bed. And then he remembers.

Oh, right. You left.

He shifts onto his back, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the silence in the room. It’s too quiet. Too empty.

You always looked so beautiful in the mornings. He loved the off-days when he could wake up next to you—the way the sunlight would hit your face just right, causing you to stir and shift in your sleep, brows furrowed and a soft pout on your lips. The way your hair would fan out over the pillow, tangled and messy, but perfect in a way that was only you. He loved how you would slowly wake up, your sleepy smile pulling at the corners of your lips when you caught him watching you.

On the days he had to get to the rink early, he’d shuffle out of bed as quietly as he could, careful not to wake you. The only light in the bedroom came from the bedside lamps, casting a soft yellow glow over your sleeping form. You were always bundled up in the duvet, curled up against a pillow, your hair a mess of tangles. He’d lean down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, knowing you wouldn’t wake up at this ungodly hour. Yet somehow, you always did.

Without fail, you’d stir, blinking sleepily up at him with half-closed eyes. “Good morning,” you’d mumble, your voice thick with sleep. And then you’d pull him in for a kiss, even though you were barely awake. “I love you,” you’d whisper against his lips, your voice hoarse and warm, still filled with the softness of sleep.

Those words were all he needed. No matter how bad the day ahead might be—traffic, a rough practice, a game loss—it never mattered. He could get through it all knowing that you loved him, that you were waiting for him at home.

But now…now there’s no sleepy smile. No groggy whispers of love. No warmth beside him. Just the cold, empty sheets and the heavy reminder that you’re gone.

He lets out a long exhale and drags himself out of bed, the cool air of the apartment making the silence even heavier. The quiet is unsettling—devoid of the usual hum of your morning playlist. The absence is tangible. There’s a weird gap in the rhythm of his day that he doesn’t know how to fill. He takes in the familiar surroundings, everything marked with shared memories.

The photos of the two of you still hang on the walls—snapshots of happier times. Trips to the beach, weddings where you danced the night away, the annual anniversary photo booth strips where you’d both pull goofy faces and kiss in between takes. There’s that one from your first year together, where you’re laughing so hard your eyes are closed, and he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the world. He tears his eyes away, feeling the ache in his chest tighten.

The plants by the window catch his attention—your little indoor garden project. You’d joked that they were your ‘practice children,’ something to take care of together. Now, they sit neglected, their leaves drooping and their soil dry. He should water them, he thinks. But he can’t bring himself to come too close to them. It was too soon.

He closes his eyes for a moment, and it’s like he can hear your laughter again, echoing from the living room. The sound of it used to fill the apartment. Especially on those nights spent curled up together on the couch, watching movies and shows, losing yourselves in conversation. You’d talk for hours about everything and nothing—random thoughts, silly dreams, what part of a car you’d eat first.

Sometimes, you’d get up, put on a love song, and pull him to his feet, swaying together in the soft glow of the living room lights. The memory of those nights hits him hard—slow dancing around the room, bodies pressed together as you whispered to each other promises of undying love and a future together. He loved the way you’d look at him in those moments, eyes soft, filled with a love so deep it made him feel like the luckiest man alive. He still doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have you.

He wonders where it all went wrong.

His gaze drifts toward the kitchen. You aren’t there, leaning against the counter like you usually were in the mornings, elbows propped up as you sipped your coffee. He can almost see it—the way you’d steal one of his oversized shirts, claiming it as your own. It was those shirts you’d always chosen to wear on those lazy mornings when there was no rush to go anywhere, no need to leave the warmth of the bed. Just the two of you, lingering in each other’s presence.

"You’re wearing my shirt," he’d say, voice teasing but affectionate, eyes tracing the way the fabric hung loosely on you.

"It’s our shirt now," you’d smile back, giving him that playful, mischievous grin that always made his heart skip a beat.

He never thought he’d wake up one day without you there. But here he is, standing in the quiet, wondering if you’re out there somewhere, thinking of him. Wondering if there’s a chance that you’ll come back, that maybe—just maybe—you’ll slip back into the kitchen, wearing his shirt, smiling at him like you always did.

He tries to shake off the memories, attempts to focus on something else—training, the game later in the evening, anything—but no matter how hard he tries, you’re everywhere. You’re in the throw pillows on the couch and the colorful rug on the floor. The curtains that you picked out together. The scented candles on the coffee table, your favorite ones that made the whole apartment smell like lavender. He can’t escape you.

You linger in the books on the shelf, the art on the walls, even in the empty space where your mug used to sit on the kitchen counter. The scent of your morning coffee may be gone, but your presence lingers in the small details of the life you built together. There’s no way for him to forget, no way to run from the constant reminders of what used to be.

You were the most beautiful thing in his life. Every smile, every laugh, every time you call his name, he never wanted to leave. He felt like he could stay in that moment forever.

You were the most beautiful thing in his life. Every smile, every laugh, the way you’d call his name from across the room—he never wanted to leave those moments. He always thought he could stay in them forever, live in the warmth of your love. The way you looked at him, like he was everything, made him feel like nothing could ever tear you apart. He believed that, once.

It was easier to keep you off his mind when he wasn’t home. When he was at the rink or with the team, pushing himself in practice or lost in the flow of a game, he could almost forget. He could forget the ache in his chest, the emptiness that settled there when he came home to an apartment that no longer felt alive. He could forget about the small velvet box tucked away in the top drawer of his bedside table, the ring that had been waiting for the right moment. The moment that would never come.

But when the day drags on into the evening, and he walks through the door to silence, it all comes rushing back. The weight of your absence presses down on him, heavier than before, as he drags himself to bed. The apartment feels suffocating in its quiet, every corner a reminder of what he’s lost. He crawls into bed, feeling the cold, untouched side of the mattress where you used to sleep. It’s like staring at a ghost—the imprint of your body still there in his mind, even though the sheets haven’t been disturbed since you left.

He stares at the empty space, as if willing it to fix everything. As if, by some miracle, you’ll suddenly materialize beside him, and he’ll wake up from this nightmare. He remembers it all too clearly. The first time he saw you, the way you flashed that brilliant smile at him, the shirt you wore that night. He remembers the first time you spent the night together, the passion, the way love filled every breath between you. And he remembers the hurt in your eyes when you told him your things were packed, your words hollow as you said you were leaving.

You were beautiful, even then—beautiful and devastating—when you turned your back on him and walked out the door, taking his heart with you.

He doesn’t know if he did everything he could or if he should’ve tried harder. Maybe he should’ve fought more for you, for what you both shared. But the look on your face, the finality in your voice, said your mind was made up. But your eyes…they make him think he could have convinced you to stay. They made him think that, maybe, if he had just said the right words, done the right thing, you would’ve still been here.

He nestles into his side of the bed, pulling the duvet tight around him. He tries to will himself to sleep, hoping that maybe—just maybe—he’ll see you in his dreams. See your smile, hear your laugh. Feel your touch again. Because in his dreams, you forgive each other. In his dreams, you fight for this, for the love that once felt unbreakable. In his dreams…you stay.

"Beautiful," he whispers into the quiet, the word hanging in the air, like a plea.

And as sleep finally takes him, he prays he’ll find you there. Even if just for a little while.

#nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fic #nico hischier #nh13 #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl #nhl x reader #new jersey devils #✩ allie's writing ✩

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zayn-210 · 1 month ago

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JUST ONE NIGHT - han jisung "trust me, even if it's just for tonight."

when your best friend's hot older brother invites you to a night clubbing in the city, who are you to tell him no?

warnings: jisung's tiny waist, alcohol, mentions of smoking, jisung being handsy

The music pounded throughout the crowded living room of the frat house, the atmosphere cloudy from the copious amount of smoking being done. You were leaning against the counter in the kitchen when you first saw him.

A tight black t-shirt that showed off his waist that was so small it should be illegal, cargo pants that hung low on his hips, and Converse. Han Jisung. Your best friend's older brother that every guy on campus wanted to be and nearly every girl on campus wanted to hook up with.

He looks in your direction and shoots you a smile. You smile shyly and wave back, suddenly hyperaware of how revealing your outfit was. The denim of your skirt barely came down to your mid-thigh, leaving little to the imagination, the tight top you were wearing hugged your breasts tightly, accentuating your cleavage, and your heels gave the illusion that your legs were a mile long.

Jisung walks over to you, ignoring the dozens of hungry stares he was getting. "Don't you think that's a little too short, baby?" he asks, one of his hands coming to rest on your waist as he reaches for one of the cups behind you.

"Don't you think your shirt's a little too tight, Ji?" you reply, smoothing out the fabric near his collar.

"Always the clever one, aren't you?" Jisung remarks, tucking you into his side.

You lean into him like it's the most natural thing in the world. Several envious stares land on the way his fingers curl around your hip before sliding down to settle in your pocket.

"Isn't Seoyun around?" you ask, looking anxiously for your best friend.

"She went upstairs with Jeong twenty minutes ago. I don't think we'll have to worry about her for the rest of the night."

You roll your eyes, settling into him a little more.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?" Jisung asks, brushing your hair back with his free hand.

"Curling up and doing nothing. Why do you ask?"

"Come with me to Seoul."

You look up at him. "Seoul? Why?"

"I want to go to some clubs, and I want to go with you," he confesses.

"Why go with me?" you ask, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

"Because you're my girl, my go-to party buddy," Jisung reasons.

"Okay, okay. I'll go with you," you give in.

Jisung grins. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at six," he says.

"Is there a dress code?" you tease.

"Yeah, there is. Wear that little red dress of yours that I like."

At 6 o'clock the next evening, Jisung shows up at your door looking good enough to eat. His tight, white button-up hugs his upper body perfectly, and the short sleeves strain around his biceps. The black slacks he was wearing hugged his figure, and his belt only further accentuated his waist. His black leather jacket was slung casually over his shoulder.

"Holy shit," he breathes out once you open the door.

The short red dress you were wearing, by his request, had a deep scoop neckline with spaghetti straps, the silky fabric stopping at the middle of your thigh.

"You like?" you ask, giving him a little twirl.

"Like?" Jisung looks down and groans when he sees your matching stilettos. "Baby, I love it."

You can't help but giggle as you exit your apartment, locking the door behind you. Once your keys are tucked safely in your purse, Jisung takes your hand and leads you to where his car is parked outside. He opens the door for you, shutting it once you're inside.

He climbs in the driver's seat, his sports car roaring to life as he presses the ignition. DAY6 filters quietly from the radio as Jisung drives towards the downtown district of Seoul. His hand rests gently on your thigh, only moving when he needs to shift gears.

"How much further?" you ask, resting your elbow on center console and leaning into your palm.

"Only about ten minutes, pretty girl," Jisung replies.

You hum in response, your free hand reaching down to rest on top of his. The chill of his rings against your thigh makes you shiver slightly.

The club is packed when you arrive. There's a line that's probably a mile long outside, and there are three cars outside waiting on the valet. Jisung parks behind them, shutting off his car.

"What about the line, Ji?" you ask as he unlocks the doors.

Jisung grins, coming to open your door. "I know people, baby. Specifically Hyunjin's older brother, he runs the place."

You take his hand and get out of the car.

After tossing his keys to the valet, Jisung fist bumps the bouncer as he opens the door. The blaring music of the club and the hazy atmosphere instantly overwhelm you. The building is packed with dozens of people, either drunk or high.

Jisung leans down, right next to your ear, and asks, "Want a drink?"

You nod, letting him tug you to the crowded bar. He orders a rum and coke before asking you what you want. "Cosmo!" you reply, smiling.

"And a Cosmo for my girl," Jisung tells the bartender.

Your drinks are slid over quickly, and Jisung leads you through the crowd to the VIP section.

"Hyunjin!" he yells.

His friend's face lights up when he sees Jisung. "Hey, Ji! Let them in, they're with me!"

The security guard opens the rope, and Jisung presses you in front of him. "Go on," he tells you. You grab his hand and walk towards Hyunjin and one of your other friends, Yoojin.

"Yoojin!" you say.

She smiles, getting up from Hyunjin's lap to hug you. "Hey! I didn't know Jisung was bringing you," she says. "And, by the way, you look hot," Yoojin adds, scanning your figure shamelessly.

"Have you looked in a mirror?" you reply with a laugh.

Yoojin's purple mini dress was strapless and made of velvet, and it hugged her curves just right. The white platform pumps she wore only added to her appeal.

Hyunjin and Jisung do their bro hug handshake and sit down on the couch. Hyunjin pulls Yoojin back onto his lap, and as you go to sit beside Jisung, one of his strong arms wraps around your waist and pulls you to sit on his lap.

"Ji!" you say, slightly startled.

"Relax, baby. No Seoyun around to tell me to keep my hands off of you," Jisung replies, tightening his hold. You're sat sideways on his lap, one of his arms around your waist.

The four of you chat aimlessly, sipping on drinks here and there.

"Maeyung!" Hyunjin calls to someone passing by.

A girl in a waitress uniform comes over. "Yes, Hyunjin?" she asks with a smile.

"Would you get us two rounds of shots, please?"

"Of course."

Hyunjin hands her a $100. "Thanks, gorgeous."

The waitress walks off, and Hyunjin sighs when he sees Yoojin's pout. "What's wrong, princess?" he asks, his hands resting on her thighs.

"Nothing," she mutters.

"You know I only have eyes for you," he tells her.

"I know, she's just so pretty," Yoojin says, fidgeting with the gold chain around Hyunjin's neck.

"I'll make it up to you later, yeah? Show you that you're the only girl for me."

Yoojin blushes and giggles as Hyunjin kisses her neck, which makes you snicker softly. You find yourself toying with the thick silver chain that Jisung was wearing. A smaller chain rests around his neck, the end hidden beneath the fabric of his shirt. Curiously, you pull it up, and a small gasp leaves your lips. Your initial dangled gently from the end. It was small and intricate, but it suited Jisung perfectly.

"Ji," you whisper, the initial resting on the palm of your hand.

"I was going to show you later, but I'm glad you got curious," he says, kissing your neck softly.

"Later?" you ask, brushing his bangs back out of his eyes.

"Yeah, when I've got you screaming my name underneath me."

Eventually, Jisung manages to convince you to let him drag you to the dance floor. Once in the middle of the dozens of people, his hands find your hips and pull you flush against him. The two of you dance for what seems like hours until Bruno Mars's Versace on the Floor comes on.

The entire vibe on the dance floor changes, and Jisung grins as he spins you around, your chest now flush to his. His eyes are dark with something other than excitement, his bangs brushing just above his eyebrows. Your arms rise up to wrap around his shoulders, your fingers tangling into his hair.

Jisung's arms wrap tighter around your middle, pulling you even closer to him. You rest your head against his collarbone, swaying to the song.

"I love that dress, but you won't need it anymore," he sings lowly, making you giggle.

Jisung leans you back from his chest. His eyes meet yours briefly before he's leaning down to kiss you. You let out a soft whine, tugging gently on his hair. Jisung's hands run up your back before sliding back down to rest right on your ass.

"You're shameless," you breathe out.

"Shamelessly in love with you," he says against your lips.

He kisses you again, holding on to you as if you'll disappear if he lets you go.

When the song's over, he pulls away, eyes dialated. "Wanna get out of here?" he asks, squeezing your waist.

"I thought you'd never ask."

#han jisung x reader #han skz #han jisung

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yuta-nakamots · 2 months ago

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My First and Last - P.Jisung

Pairing - Jisung x GN Reader (described to be within 4 years of Jisung’s age)

Genres - Action, Angst, Slight Fluff

Warnings - character death, zombie-like creatures, violence, explosions, gun and knife use, blood, description of injuries

Summary - First loves and last breaths. You and Jisung experience love and life together until the end.

Word Count - 4.6k

Author’s Note - This fic takes place in the same universe as my fic Ride Or Die - K.Jongin

Taglist - @k-vanity @neocity-net @tinyzen @cosyhomenet (fill out this google form if you’d like to be added!)

Written for the 21 Ways to Kill Your Lover Collab hosted by @du0tine. Also part of my NCT: Seven Deadly Sins Collection.

Now Playing: My First and Last - NCT Dream, Hot - Le Sserafim, Die With A Smile - Lady Gaga & Bruno Mars, Zombie - Day6

In a world where neon-lit skyscrapers in the sky cast long shadows over the decaying remnants of a society that once was, and in the rubble of it stood an abandoned military base. It was bustling with activity, much more humane than the rest of its surroundings. This base was one of the last places free of Infected, serving as a training camp designed to combat the spread of the disease. The camp was a fortified enclave amidst the chaos, both a sanctuary and a battleground. In its center were you, Jisung, Chenle, and all the other soldiers and refugees that resided in the camp.

The three of you had become close friends at this base after Chenle had saved you and Jisung during a reconnaissance mission in your childhood neighborhood. You and Jisung were merely teenagers, playing in a park under the watchful eyes of your parents, when suddenly a horde of Infected swarmed, and in the blink of an eye, both of you had become orphans.

You remember the panic in Jisung’s voice as he yelled your name and threw you his mother’s gun that had fallen near his feet while he took his father’s. The two of you shot at the Infected, just as your parents had taught you, but it was futile. No matter how many you and Jisung shot down, they kept coming. You were ready to give up, to face the same end that your parents did, and you closed your eyes, shut tight in fear, only to be met by the booming sound of an explosion.

Jisung wrapped his arms around you as the explosion rocketed around the two of you, sending shrapnel and debris everywhere. When things quieted and the dust settled, you finally opened your eyes, meeting Jisung’s. You let out a gasp when you saw the blood slowly dripping down from his forehead, his skin covered in soot and cuts where his body shielded yours. The two of you panted out of exertion, but you knew better than to let your guard down at a time like this. Standing bravely, you scanned the area and sighed in relief when you saw that all the Infected lay lifeless on the floor. You had to get Jisung out of here.

Turning back to him, you grabbed his arm and gently helped him to his feet. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be-” one of his large hands shot up to his head, pressing at where the blood was seeping out from, “I’ll be fine.”

“We need to find some medical supplies.” You slung his arm over your shoulder and supported his weight as you started to walk him down the block.

“Hey!” The stranger’s voice froze you in your spot. Both of you turned to the source of the voice. It was a boy. He didn’t look much older than you or Jisung. “Need help?” In his hands, you saw a red medical kit in one, a large rifle in the other.

“Yes, please,” you began walking Jisung over to the stranger against all your intuition not to trust someone you just met. But you had no other choice. “He’s bleeding from his forehead and has cuts from the blast earlier.”

“Sorry, that was me,” the boy said sheepishly as he placed his rifle on the floor and opened up the medical kit while you brought Jisung to a sitting position.

Your eyes went wide in shock. “You caused that explosion?! What are you doing with weapons like that?”

“It’s my job,” he replied to you while cleaning Jisung’s wound as if it were second nature. “I’m Chenle, by the way.”

You introduced yourself and Jisung, explaining that you were childhood friends who grew up in the area. “As much as I’d like to show you around, there’s not much left,” you remarked half-heartedly.

“That’s alright.” Chenle finished applying an ointment to Jisung’s forehead and pressed a gauze to it before covering it with tape. “I’ve been around here on enough surveillance and reconnaissance missions to know my way around.”

“Missions?” Jisung finally started to come back to his senses, looking at Chenle with wide, glassy eyes.

Chenle nodded his head. “Yup, I’m a soldier at Camp Kwangya. It’s a little ways off from here, but we watch over this area to keep tabs on the Infected. We were about to head back, but we saw the mob of them coming over here and decided to help out.”

“Oh, thank you.” You were relieved to know there were still others out there fighting for humanity.

Chenle looked between you and Jisung, both of you equally shaken up by everything that just happened. “I take it that you’ll want to come with us?”

“Please.” You had just lost your parents. Jisung was your only semblance of family left, yet neither of you were out of your teens. There was no way the two of you were going to survive on your own when four grown adults failed to.

Thus bringing you to Camp Kwangya, where the three of you currently resided, years after that fateful day.

Chenle had climbed the ranks of the soldiers there, currently serving as a Sergeant. You and Jisung had fallen into his squad and diligently received training, bringing both of you to the rank of Corporal. Day after day, the three of you were dispatched on surveillance and reconnaissance missions, tracking the Infected and their activities while also searching for survivors that needed assistance. You constantly thought back to the way Chenle had saved you and Jisung whenever your squad brought in person after person, life after life rescued from the Infected, if only for a short while. Despite the youth of the squad, the horrors you all had endured went far beyond your age.

One fateful evening, as the orange hue of dusk fades, the camp’s sirens wail. A breach has occurred. Heart pounding, you grabbed your jacket bearing your designations and dashed out of your barracks with fellow soldiers following suit. You made a break for the armory, remembering the instructions the General gave upon your introduction to your squad.

The door to the armory was already, a whole platoon’s worth of soldiers inside, all hurriedly donning gear and loading ammunition. You grabbed two rifles off the rack, making brief eye contact with Chenle, who was helping to push racks of guns and ammunition around. “Go!” He commanded. You gave him a curt nod before grabbing ammo and stashing it into your jacket, cradling the weapons in your arms.

As you ran through the broad clearing of the training area, you saw dust and smoke rising from the far edge of the perimeter, the sound of gunfire echoing throughout the camp. Over all the noise, you heard Jisung yelling your name. Your body was immediately pushed into motion, sprinting at full speed toward the commotion.

Jisung came stumbling out of the haze along with a few other soldiers that resided in the same barrack. “The Infected,” he coughed out through labored breaths, “they climbed the fence and got into our barrack.”

You dropped the guns on the ground, cupping Jisung’s face with your hands. “Are you okay?”

He swallowed and closed his eyes, his cheeks settling into the palms of your hands. “I am.” His eyes opened once again, peering into yours. “But I saw them…I saw them get the others…I heard their screams, I just-”

You interrupted him with a kiss to his lips. It wasn’t something you had ever done before, but you felt that you had to. If he had been one of the few unfortunate soldiers that were attacked by the Infected, you may have never gotten to feel his soft lips against yours. It dawned on you that you couldn’t imagine living in a world without Jisung.

The boy in your hands stared back at you, his lips parted slightly. “C-can you do that again?”

You brought your lips to Jisung’s once more, except this time, he met you halfway. His large hands found your waist and held them tightly, savoring every second of your touch. You had imagined kissing Jisung before and how it would feel, but nothing could compare to this moment. You thought you would have butterflies in your stomach as the two of you lay in a meadow full of grass and flowers. Yet in this moment, Jisung’s lips grounded you to the present, fading away the chaos around you.

“Are you guys done yet?!” Chenle’s piercing voice yelled over the rumble of your squad’s truck as they pulled up next to the two of you, causing you to scramble away from Jisung. “We need to secure the perimeter! Scouts said there’s a second breach further down!”

“On it Sarge!” You shouted, grabbing the guns from your feet, tossing one to Jisung, and hopping into the cabin.

You and Jisung fell into your designated seats next to each other, his hand holding tight on your thigh. He stared out from the back of the truck as it picked up speed, kicking up dirt and gravel in its wake. You placed your hand on his and squeezed it lightly, as if reassuring him of your presence. His hand shifted under your touch so that he could intertwine his fingers with yours. You gripped his hand tightly, realizing that you don’t know when you’ll be able to hold his hand again.

The two of you continued staring out the back, watching the military facilities whizz by until you had reached the outskirts of the second breach. The sound of gunfire and explosions brought you back to your senses as the rest of your squad was already hopping out the back of the truck. Chenle extended a hand to you as you jumped out with Jisung following suit. “I need you two to stay near the truck. Heard that this one’s worse than the one by the barracks. We may need to retreat.”

“Copy that,” you confirmed. Chenle gave a curt nod before taking off behind the rest of the squad, yelling orders at them. You and Jisung watch your fellow soldiers leap into action, spraying bullets into the Infected that had climbed over the fence. You saw the mob of them on the other side, climbing over one another to gain leverage. It was terrifying. Their decaying skin and torn-up clothes serve as a sick reminder that they were once like you. Alive.

More and more Infected joined the pile, pushing the ones at the top over the fence and into the camp. They came in faster than they could be shot down. You were going to have to “retreat!” Chenle’s voice rang loud and clear.

Jisung scrambled into the driver’s seat of the truck as you joined him in the passenger’s seat. The engine roared to life as the members of your squad ran back to the vehicle. Once all of them were accounted for, Jisung floored the acceleration just as the Infected had started to pick up speed towards the group of you. He hit a few of them with the hood of the truck before yanking the wheel, making a stark turnaround.

“Step on it, Park!” One of the other soldiers commanded, fearing for their lives as they were once again face to face with the creatures. Jisung’s foot pressed the pedal down as far as it would go, and the truck sped off through the web of debris and malfunctioning streetlights, heading back towards the center of the camp, the designated rally point for soldiers and refugees alike. You needed reinforcements fast.

As you drew close to the clearing of the training grounds once more, you saw that the troops from the first breach had done the same. Sergeants from all rankings were shouting that they needed more men, more ammo, more support. But there was none left to give. Every trained soldier was already in action.

One of the lieutenants took control, ordering every soldier to focus on the first breach, as it was closer to the rally point and, therefore, more dangerous. With the mass of nearly a hundred armed troops, together you closed in around the barracks that had been smashed and ran through. You worked together as two platoons combined to eliminate all of the Infected that had scaled the wall.

You stuck near your squad within the ranks, scoping out the far left wing of the area. Things had started to quiet down, save for a few rogue gunshots coming from the watchtowers. Surveilling the surroundings of the last barrack, you were about to declare it as clear before Chenle appeared, dashing from around the corner pursued by two of the Infected.

With adrenaline-fueled precision, you shot one of them in the chest, moving to its head as it continued its approach. You watched thick, coagulated blood ooze out of the bullet hole in its forehead, its body going limp and falling to the ground, mirroring the actions of the one behind it. You made out Jisung from down the side of the barrack, his face expressionless, only greeting you with a nod before you both reconvened with the rest of your squad.

Circling back to the rally point where the refugees anxiously waited for status updates, the Lieutenant declared the first breach as cleared. With the guards up in the watchtowers and one platoon already on the way to the second breach, the General announced the new temporary designations for soldiers who had lost their barracks.

You slumped against Jisung’s broad shoulder as the adrenaline began to fade from your body. This wasn’t the first time you had come close to the Infected, but it was the first time they had made it onto the campgrounds, and if they did it once, then they could do it again, as they had already shown you by breaching two areas in one day. The thought of your inevitable death was swimming through your mind, but you forced it away as Chenle began the standard post-mission debrief.

Chenle began recounting the events that occurred, starting from the report of the first breach. His words aimlessly floated around your brain while you anxiously thought of the future prospects of the camp. You could remain here and help to fortify the camp’s defenses with the risk of another breach, or you could abandon the only place you had to call home and venture back into the city in search of your own path to safety. You weighed the countless battles and loss of lives in your head.

You didn’t even realize Chenle had finished the debrief until he placed a hand on your shoulder, causing you to jerk your head towards him. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

“It’s alright, I think everyone’s shaken up after a scare like this.” Chenle’s head hung heavy with the weight of leading his friends and peers.

“Chenle, I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this,” you started. You looked over at Jisung, whose features were clouded in worry. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep fighting when it never seems to end.”

“Well, there’s nothing else to do except fight.” Chenle was right. “Either you fight or you give up, and if you give up, you die.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “I know, I just…I’m tired of fighting.”

Chenle’s hand went from your shoulder to your jaw, bringing you to face him as he firmly said your name. “Listen, you’re a fighter, I know you are. I knew it from the moment you dragged Jisung over to me in the park all those years ago. You can’t come all this way just to give up now.”

You stared back into his dark eyes. “I’m not the same person I was back then…back then, I had hope. I thought that maybe we’d be free from all of this. Years later, and we’re not. It’s all the same and I-” you felt your throat growing hot as tears welled in your eyes, “I just don’t see the point of fighting if nothing is going to change.”

Chenle shook his head at you, muttering, “this isn’t you.”

“What’s the point of running away from death if we’re all going to die in the end?” You questioned, as if Chenle would have an answer for you. He went silent. You turned to Jisung. “You understand, right?”

He nodded solemnly. “Ever since the Infected took over the city, the only two ways out are either to die fighting them or become one of them.”

“Be a hero,” Chenle urged, “keep fighting even if it kills you.”

“No, I don’t want to fight anymore!” The tears you tried so hard to hold came spilling out. “I don’t see the point of living if this is all I have to look forward to!”

Chenle opened his mouth, going to interrupt you, but Jisung beat him to it. “I agree. This isn’t much of a life if day after day we’re sent out to do the same tasks with the same result.” He looked over at you. “Our parents birthed us into a world with the Infected, and nothing has changed since then. We’re fighting the same monsters they did, and yet no progress has been made. It’s a pity of a life we’re all living here. No safety, no future, no freedom.”

“Then go,” Chenle said through gritted teeth, looking between the two of you. “Leave this camp and fend for yourself.”

“We will.” Jisung’s voice was low and strong as his hand found its way to yours.

With fingers interlocked, the two of you stepped off towards the armory and your barrack to gather what little belongings both of you had. “Be safe,” you said over your shoulder towards Chenle.

“Same to you guys.”

Life outside of the base was refreshing, one might even say fun. You and Jisung were no longer subjected to the long hours of training and the repetitive missions of surveillance and reconnaissance, no longer forced to see the faces of survivors who had just lost a loved one. You felt free.

Together, you and Jisung jumped from place to place, staying in abandoned houses and apartments. The two of you would collect supplies and live wherever you chose until your supplies started to run low, and then you would set out again to find more supplies and a new place to call home.

The sight of Jisung sprawled out on a plush couch without any of his gear on was a sight to behold. Aside from the tactical gear that both of you had taken from the camp, most of your and Jisung’s clothing consisted of items taken from dressers and closets. Though it wasn’t much, it was still more variety than the camp had to offer. Both of you had been able to find clothing that was much closer to your liking than the standard issue garments the two of you had on the day you left the base.

Jisung’s favorite items were undoubtedly large flannel shirts, especially red and black ones. You loved the way he looked in them, the way the fabric fell over his shoulders, making him look even broader than he already was. He loved the way his flannels looked on you, his favorite clothing item on his favorite person.

Aside from clothes, you and Jisung had kept your assigned weapons and guns, using them sparingly to hold on to them for when it really mattered, whenever that may be. There had been a few close calls, though. Once, there had been an Infected within the house that you and Jisung had stumbled upon. The outside of the house looked as if it hadn’t been touched by the madness surrounding it, but that alone should have sent off warnings in your head. When Jisung finished picking the lock on the door and swung it open, one Infected came lunging towards the two of you from the end of the hallway.

Thankfully, you had been watching right behind him, always having his back. You whipped around, firing a bullet straight into its forehead before Jisung slammed the door shut. “I guess we’re not staying there,” he breathed shakily.

Like this, you had used up your ammunition as slowly as possible, one by one, until nothing remained. “I’m out of bullets,” you told Jisung.

He sifted through his pockets and the backpacks you had ‘thrifted’ along the way. “Me too.”

The two of you shared a look, but not one of fear.

It had already been a year since you and Jisung left the base, and you had never felt more comfortable and safe. When your rations ran out a few days later, Jisung led you to the city’s highest tower. You stood at its base, staring up at the monolith of glass and steel piercing the smog-laden sky.

Within the 127 floors of the tower, you and Jisung managed to sweep the floors and gather supplies, food and find places to sleep. Every week or so, you moved up another floor under the pretense of safety. The higher up you were, the longer it would take for anyone or the Infected to get to you.

When you had finally reached the 100th floor, it felt a little celebratory. You and Jisung had managed to reside within the skyscraper for a few months without ever having set foot back on the ground. Being so high up felt like you were flying, and you couldn’t deny that you loved watching the sun rise and set, letting you know that time was passing and you survived yet another day. You loved the rush of the wind on your skin whenever you found an opening in the panels of glass and cement.

There was an area on the 28th floor where a window pane was entirely missing as if someone had jumped through it. You remembered the way you stood at the edge of the concrete, peering down at the ground far below you as the wind rushed past you. Jisung stood at your back, hands holding onto your waist, keeping you secure with him. You looked over your shoulder at him, admiring the way his hair blew in the wind.

Speaking of his hair, you had taken it upon yourself to cut his hair every month, keeping it at a short and manageable length for him. At first, you had cut jagged lines into his smooth strands, making both of you laugh. But as you learned from trial and error, you got better and better until you could style his hair the same as his mother used to.

It was in a bathroom on the 85th floor that you mastered the skill, a sense of pride blooming in your chest as you turned Jisung around so he could look at himself in the mirror. He drew in a sharp breath as he stared at his reflection. “It looks…you did it just how my mom used to…”

“I did.” You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair. “Do you like it?”

He turned around to face you. “More than like it, I love it.” Jisung’s strong arms brought you into a warm hug, his grip tight around your shoulders. You rubbed your hands up and down his back in a soothing motion as you felt him shudder in your hold. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do. I know how much you miss her.” You spoke quietly into him, your words muffled as your lips pressed into his cheek before leaving a light kiss. Jisung sniffled, and you felt something hot fall onto the exposed skin where your neck met your shoulder. A tear. Jisung was crying. You pulled him in even tighter. “I know your parents would be proud of you if they could see you right now. The way you grew into the man you are now, living just as they did. They taught you well.”

He sobbed into you, his tears rolling down his face onto you, but you didn’t care. “Th-Thank you for staying with me throughout my whole life. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to know because I’ll always be right here, Jisung.”

It was on the 119th floor where the Infected finally caught up to you. They came bursting in under the cover of the night, making you scream out of fear during your routine sweep of the floor before heading to sleep. The sound of your voice jolted Jisung awake, and he grabbed a pocket knife from his backpack, running blindly to find you.

You would have been fine if it was only one, but it was much more than that. There were at least ten that marched towards you, the stench of their rotting bodies filling the room. Jisung came tumbling out of a hallway, knife in hand, ready to protect you, but he knew his little knife meant nothing once he saw just how many Infected there were.

Jisung folded the knife up, stashing it in his pocket before grabbing your hand and making a run for it. Together, you flew up the stairs, going higher and higher because if they were on your floor, there were bound to be more below you. The only way was up.

120. You felt blood pulsing through your veins as you pushed your body to climb the stairs. 121. Your heart was pounding in your chest. 122. Your breath grew heavy, coming in and out of your mouth as you panted. 123. There was a sting in your lungs as you continued the ascent. 124. The muscles in your leg cried out for you to stop, but you couldn’t. 125. Your nails dug into your palms as you clenched your fists. 126. Your eyes grew cloudy as they filled with tears. 127.

When the final door burst open, you and Jisung stumbled out onto the rooftop, running to the edge of the concrete and looking down at the abyss of the city sprawling beneath you. If you ignored everything about the situation, perhaps you could enjoy the view with Jisung, who often philosophized about space and everything in the sky. Maybe in a world without the Infected, the two of you would have come here as lovers on a date. But that was not your fate in this world.

You heard the Infected clambering up the stairs, their low growls and moans bouncing off the walls. Jisung looked back at the stairwell that the two of you had come out of, then at you, then at the moon glowing up in the sky. “Together?” He asked with a faint smile playing on his lips.

You turn to face him, eyes twinkling under the moon and stars. “Until the end.” Your fingers intertwined with his as your lips met his once more in a gentle yet resolute kiss. Sharing a final look, you both step off the edge, surrendering to the uncertain embrace of the void beneath you.

Pride was yours and Jisung’s sin. You and he had long since chosen to live by defining your own destiny rather than letting it be dictated by a world gone awry. It only felt right to have a death that was of your own volition.

Autoplay: If you liked this, you may also like 119 - N.Jaemin

#kvanity #neocity-net #cosyhomenet #nct #NCT dream #park jisung #NCT x reader #NCT dream x reader #NCT fanfic #NCT dream fanfic #NCT imagines #NCT scenarios #NCT dream imagines #NCT dream scenarios #NCT angst #NCT dream angst

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day6source · 2 months ago

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DAY6’s Maybe Tomorrow

Every story has its end, but sometimes the end also signals a new beginning. DAY6’s new single [Maybe Tomorrow] sings about that ‘period’. Parting and hoping, the moment when one gives up then having the courage to stand up again.

The most human emotions that exist between those moment’s gap, are expressed through the language, that is singing.

The title song ‘Maybe Tomorrow’ talks about the way to endure today. In the midst of being shaken up, falling down, and standing up again, DAY6 repeatedly says “When tomorrow comes, it might be better than today.” Those words doesn’t simply mean feeling tortured due to continuous hoping, but it can feel like a chant to hold one’s self together.

The song’s composition slowly heightens up and emotions can surge up like a wave, and at some point, we can find a piece of our story in this song.

And “game over.” This song slowly creeps up, and touches on one’s pain that has been on slumber. This song that talks about the end, but it doesn’t feel cold. Rather, with calmness, it walks with you to recognise and accept that it is truly the end. Love is gone, the emotions and feelings were true and that will never be erased.

Like that, [Maybe Tomorrow] comes up like how a person’s day is. At the start, one embraces and chooses to hope, at the middle, there may be parting that will hurt, and at the end, there’s a silent willingness to continue on with life. Perhaps this album is a lot like the emotional waves that a person has, as they live through each day of their lives.

As how DAY6 has always presents themselves, they console us in the most sincere moments, in the most quiet way possible. And once again, through their music, we are able to face our stories.

Melon intro to 'Maybe Tomorrow'; translated by desix_O825 x

#day6 #maybe tomorrow #game over #day6: press #250507

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sanctuary1988 · 10 months ago

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| Interlude | pt. 2

French: /the petals of love/

Pairing: Gwi x fem! noble! Reader

Summary: A heartless vampire falls in love for the first time in centuries of loneliness. Passion, secrets, betrayal and love drown the royal palace. Will your love for Gwi prevail through time or will it wither away like a fallen rose petal? Maybe love was his punishment, maybe love was your salvation. Or wasn't it a curse to you both? Because, who can beat a race against time? Who can love in the dark? Who can love without truth? After all, even the most beautiful flower will wither away and end in ashes of time, remembered only by the one who cherished her the most.

Warnings: fluff, love, heavy makeout session O.O, implied smut, nudity, confession, my boy is a gentleman so HE ASKS FOR CONSENT!!!, kissing, battling of emotions, TENSION!, typical period misogyny (flower is said to be pure in the ways of carnal desires), flower is described to be shorter than Gwi, declarations, historical! AU, royal! AU?, cannon copilant (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2.2k words

A/N: I don't know why but I struggled to write this part so much! In the end I went with what I felt comfortable and with what I figured fit the story better. 🙈 lmao. ❤️❤️❤️

Please let me know your thoughts in the comments! I'd love to hear from you, loves. We are having a little of a recap right where we left this two lovebirds hehe, Enjoy! 🫶🫶🫶

His lips smashed with yours. The intensity of the kiss took your breath away. His lips moved against yours with desperate urgency. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing against yours while you stood on your tiptoes and kissed him back.

You responded in kind, your hands fisting at his robes with equal fervour as you danced to the symphony of your hearts combined. The world around you disappeared, leaving only the two of you locked in this moment of raw, unbridled passion.

Gwi’s hand tightened on your neck, not in a painful way but with a possessive intensity that made your pulse quicken and warmth to pool in your lower abdomen. The taste of him was addicting and you craved for something you didn’t know you needed up until this moment.

A soft whimper left your throat the second he broke the kiss, your lips were left tingling with the sensation of your passion. His eyes looked down at you as you both panted softly into each other’s mouths.

“Love me. Love with me.”

You craned up your head, feeling such an overwhelming need that you knew only he could fulfil.

“I love for you, my petal.”

You moaned as he kissed you again, a sound that was foreign to you but felt completely natural as you melted against him. Your hands cradled his face as he pressed you to him with a palm on your waist and the other tangled in your hair. He bent down, picking you up in his arms, you gasped at the change of position and looked into his eyes as you swore they tinted crimson for a second.

Gwi kissed you again, softer this time as he began to walk to your room. His arms beneath you tightened ever so slightly when your hands held onto his robes. Gwi carried you with an ease that made you feel weightless, his steps measured and purposeful as he guided you both through the dimly lit corridors. The candles flickered, casting long shadows on the stone walls, but you barely noticed, your senses completely consumed by the man holding you so tightly against him.

Every part of you was acutely aware of him—his strength, his warmth, the way his heartbeat echoed in time with your own. His lips brushed against your temple in tender kisses, a sharp contrast to the intensity of his desires moments ago. Almost as if he was trying to convey the depth of his emotions without words.

Your bedroom welcomed you both with the flickers of the candles and the petals from the tree that fell slowly like snowflakes.

Gwi lay you down on the soft bedding, his big hand cradling your head as he hovered over you, his lips pressing against yours in a delicate connection of love. One of his hands travelled down your body, your breath hitched in your throat as you craved for something you didn’t know could be owned.

“Please.”

Your mumbled words against his lips made him open his eyes as he looked down at you. His dark gaze bore into your own and there was a moment of hesitation that crossed his eyes.

“Are you even aware of what you are asking, petal?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as his words echoed in your ears, the weight of his question pressing down on you. Gwi’s gaze was intense, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt or hesitation.

You kept silent, not fully understanding the undertone of his words. You were innocent in the ways of carnal acts and for the first time, it frightened you to think that you had no idea, no concept at all of what the act of love was.

“You are asking to be mine.”

His hand cradled your cheek, his thumb running over your bottom lip. Your pulse quickened to the point where you feared he could hear it.

“I am yours.”

His eyes softened at the innocence in your words. At the lust that swarmed in your (e/c) eyes that contradicted the inexperience of your body.

“You don’t know how much I have wanted you like this… all to myself.”

Your lips parted ever so softly as you blinked up at him. Gwi watched you with a certain melancholy as his thumb caressed the apple of your cheek and his other hand played with a strand of your hair between his fingers.

“I’ve waited for you to ask it on your own, to never force you to anything but I cannot restrain myself anymore so I must ask you myself.”

His voice was dark, deep with an intensity you had never heard before. You looked at him as his eyes lowered to your lips once more not knowing that another kiss from those lips of yours would shatter what little control he had left with him.

“Ask me what?”

His eyes met yours once more and you saw all the emotions swarming in his dark eyes, all the love, the longing, the lust, the desire. It was all laid out bare for you to see and treasure. Gwi smiled softly, a subtle gesture but it softened his features even more making him look like an angel of darkness.

“You are everything to me, (y/n). Everything. And I want to show you how much you mean to me. Let me make love to you. Let me kiss you and own you forever so that I am yours in every lifetime.”

Butterflies swirled in your stomach at his beautiful words. Your heart tightened with the treasure of his poetry

“I love you as well. But I-I have never… I’ve never been loved this way.”

One of your hands cradled his cheek, gazing into his dark eyes, those starless galaxies you were drowning in. Your whispered words pulled at his heartstrings, almost as if you feared you would shatter the moment if you were to speak freely.

“That’s why I am asking for your permission. It will always be your choice. Today and every other time. It's always your choice, flower.”

Gwi had always protected you and cared for you but as he spoke those words to you, you felt so safe and cherished in his presence you couldn’t help but kiss him. Passionately, wholeheartedly, desperately. His scent filled your senses and it made you dizzy as his tongue explored your mouth and danced with yours in a soft waltz where the rhythm came from the heart.

But the moment you raised your hands to wrap them around his neck and pull him closer, he broke the kiss. His eyes held yours as your chest rose with the sharp intakes of air you tried to force into your lungs. Your cheeks were flushed, your hands gripped at his robes by the nape of his neck as you panted softly.

“You have to say it, my flower. I will not do anything until I have your voiced consent. I can’t do this with you without hearing you saying yes.”

You swallowed, never breaking eye contact as you smiled. Feeling safe, loved and cared for under his intense gaze.

“Yes. I want you to love me. I want to be yours.”

He leaned down, his nose touched yours ever so delicately.

“I’ll be gentle.”

Gwi pecked your lips and you sighed against him. His tongue lapped at your mouth to give him access and you did, opening your mouth and letting his tongue tangle with yours in that harmonious dance of passionate melodies.

The hand that cradled your cheek travelled down your body, hid long pale fingers working quickly to unfasten the silky goreum of your hanbok. You didn’t resist, allowing him to undress you as you surrendered yourself under him. His lips travelled from your lips to your jaw before they began kissing down the column of your neck. You gasped, fingers tangling in his black locks as he sucked on a particularly sensitive part beneath your ear.

Your scent was intoxicating and his eyes turned crimson with desire. He could hear how fast your heart was hammering against your chest, how you were panting softly in his ear and the feeling of your soft skin under his lips made him want to succumb to his darkest desires.

“My love…”

The way your voice sounded, so vulnerable, so full of want. Stirred something within him. He managed to get control of his most primal urges as his palm touched your now bare stomach. The touch made you whimper, his big calloused hand caressed you as if you were a doll made of glass.

Gwi kissed you again, your eyes closed and you felt his hands leave your body. You gasped when you heard the sound of fabric being torn and you broke the kiss just to see he had ripped the skirts of your dress, exposing you more and more for his eyes only.

“I… I want to see you too.”

Gwi's eyes, now tinted with a deep shade of crimson that looked like the reflection of the candles, locked onto yours as your timid words hung in the air. The intensity of his gaze was almost overwhelming, but you held it, feeling a surge of boldness despite your vulnerability. The raw desire reflected in his eyes made your breath catch, but beneath that, you could also see something else—something tender, almost reverent.

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he slowly loosened his hold on the fabric of your dress, allowing it to fall away completely. His fingers, once again gentle, traced the line of your jaw before moving to the ties of his own robes. With deliberate, almost ritualistic care, he began to undo them, his eyes never leaving yours as he revealed himself to you.

Piece by piece, the barriers between you were stripped away until he stood before you, bared and vulnerable in a way that mirrored your own exposure. The flickering light in the room cast shadows across his pale skin, highlighting the strength of his form—the sinewy muscles, the sharp angles that made him both intimidating and breathtakingly beautiful.

You reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as they traced the contours of his chest, marvelling at the warmth beneath your touch. The connection between you deepened with every second, the air around you charged with a heady mixture of anticipation and longing.

Gwi's breath hitched as your hands explored him, his body responding to your touch with a shudder that sent a thrill through you. The power of the moment—the power you held over him—was intoxicating, but it was also humbling. He was laying himself bare before you, not just physically but emotionally as well, and the weight of that trust settled in your chest.

“You are so beautiful.”

You whispered, your voice trembling with awe. Your words seemed to strike a chord deep within him, his gaze softening as he leaned down to capture your lips in another kiss. This one was slower, more tender, a wordless declaration of everything he felt for you.

As his lips moved against yours, his hands resumed their exploration of your body, this time with a gentleness that belied the fierce passion simmering beneath the surface. His touch was reverent, as if he was memorising every curve, every dip, every inch of you with his hands and lips.

The night was soft, illuminated only by candlelight that reflected the dance of intimacy you tangled yourself in. Gwi kissed you, held you, claimed you. Your sighs filled the room, his soft praises on your ear made you tingle with warmth, he relinquished in your chants of pleasure as he gave you all of himself, taking everything from you and promising you the moon so that you could have it within your hands.

He kissed you with a burning desire he had never felt. He loved you like he had never loved before. The vampire became human for a night, his heart beating for his beautiful flower in his grey garden.

“I love you.”

You had smiled when he said it. The sight of you under him, loved by him, held by him in such a delicate way made his dead heart stir with so much want, so much need to have you, claim you and protect you for eternity.

“I love you more.”

He kissed you, his lips mingling with yours in a soft waltz of love. You kissed him back, smiling as his love cradled your heart in soft white petals of innocence and purity.

“That cannot be, petal. I love you now and I’ll love you through centuries of time.”

You didn’t know what he meant with those words so you kissed him again. Not knowing his promise would keep him alive when storms would arrive during his neverending days. Because you belonged to him in a deeper way. He was more than your lord, more than your protector. He owned your heart. You belonged by his side and Gwi had willingly let himself be owned by the beautiful petal that fell from a death tree and was now his to protect and care for as long as he lived.

“You are mine forever, my sweet flower. Mine.”

Sept/01/2024

A/N: Thoughts? O.O

My inbox is open, darlings! Or feel free to leave a comment! I'd love to hear your thoughts and inputs for the story! Take care, everyone 🫶

~ Masterpost

#sanctuary1988 #lee soo hyuk #kdrama #kdrama series #the scholar who walks the night #gwi #kactor #gwi x reader fluff #gwi x reader #gwi x reader angst #scholar who walks the night #lee soo hyuk characters #vampire #korean drama #korean actor #les pétals d'amour #vampire gwi

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fanficsfreeideas · 3 months ago

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I wanted to do a radioapple ship

Beneath the Mask

Mushishield

Redeem/Heaven Alastor week day6-Beneath the Mask

Alastor had always lived for the stage. Even before Michael carved his once-angelic grace into a visage befitting Hell’s torment, he understood the allure hidden within a smile. A grin could conceal secrets; a well-timed joke could deflect the sharpest accusations.

When fate—or a more insidious design—decreed he watch over Lucifer and his daughter, Alastor did not protest. With an elegant tilt of his head, he donned the mask of a sinner and descended into the abyss.

His transformation was seamless yet profound. Radiant wings, once symbols of purity, darkened to black-edged shadows. His halo dimmed to a fragile spark, and his voice, once divine, now carried an alluring rasp. Michael’s magic was woven so intricately that even Lucifer missed the divine pulse buried within Alastor’s soul—or so he believed.

“Keep an eye on him,” Michael had commanded. “Lucifer is plotting something. His daughter may tip the balance. Get close.”

Alastor embraced his role, crafting a reputation until he became Hell’s ultimate dealmaker—a demon with an unshakable grin. Eyes alight with mirth, laughter trailing his steps, he schemed his way to an audience with the Morningstar.

Meeting Lucifer shattered Alastor’s expectations. He anticipated the ultimate traitor, a rebel who spat defiance at Heaven’s throne. Instead, he found raw freedom. Lucifer bowed to no one and laughed at the triumph of a war already won.

Alastor found himself enthralled.

Fascination kindled into admiration, then ignited into forbidden love—a betrayal of Heaven’s will. Yet beneath his illusion, Alastor remained an angel, tethered to a cause that no longer stirred within him.

Lucifer saw through it all. He had pierced not only the mask of Alastor’s deception but also the essence of his identity.

In a fateful moment, Lucifer uttered the name buried in Heaven’s archives: “Alastar.”

The facade crumbled.

“How long,” Lucifer murmured, circling him with predatory grace, “did you think your masquerade would fool me?”

Alastor’s smile faltered. Words failed him.

Lucifer leaned close, golden eyes burning through pretense. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Alastor swallowed hard as the truth pressed upon him.

Lucifer chuckled softly, gloved fingers brushing the trembling curve of Alastor’s jaw. “A masterful actor, even Michael underestimated your performance… But your eyes?” His thumb traced Alastor’s cheekbone. “They betrayed you every time you smiled.”

The realization dawned on him—Lucifer had been aware of the situation from the beginning. He’d watched, waited, and let Alastor’s lies unfurl like a game.

“I wonder,” Lucifer mused, tilting Alastor’s chin until their breaths mingled, “can you reclaim the angel you were? Or has the mask become your truth?” His voice softened, edged with something perilously close to tenderness. “Can you return from this fall, Alastar… or do you want to?”

Alastor’s heart raced. He meant to deny it, to swear his loyalty to Heaven—but as Lucifer’s touch lingered, warm and deliberate, the words dissolved. He closed his eyes, leaning into the king’s palm. The mask he’d worn to claim Lucifer’s trust had instead claimed him. He was now a fallen angel, and Heaven’s light no longer felt like home.

When Alastor opened his eyes, Lucifer’s smirk had gentled into reassurance. “Fear not, my little angel,” he whispered. “My brother may have cast you aside… But I will always keep you in my home and in my bed. Always.”

Alastor nodded, breath catching as Lucifer pulled him into his arms.

“Now,” Lucifer murmured, lips grazing Alastor’s own.

The kiss was not a collision but a surrender—slow, deliberate, and molten with promises unspoken.

When they parted, Lucifer’s thumb brushed Alastor’s lips. “Welcome home, my Alastar."

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin lucifer #radioapple #alastor/lucifer #redeem/heavenalastorweek

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sxfterhearts · 2 days ago

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countdown

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ neighbour barista!jae x non-idol!reader ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

♡ genre/warnings: neighbours to lovers, but with a sprinkle of barista au and rockstar au?!? (jae is a busy boy)

♡ word count: 5,747 words

♡ author’s note: finally finished this pic !! writing this got me deep in jae feels so now i'm officially part of the jars fandom... <3 also a very big shoutout to my lover @hyucksos for betareading my first present tense fic ilysb xoxo

♡ song rec: hi hello by day6

◃───────────▹

Twelve minutes.

He’s tugging on his socks, so obviously mismatched, just barely making it out the door without tripping on his own two feet.

He fumbles and feels around his pockets for the keys, breathing a sigh of relief when he feels the familiar imprint against his jeans.

But the relief is short-lived. His eyes widen in panic when his gaze lands upon the sweet old lady making her way towards the elevator from her end of the corridor, walking stick in hand. Cursing to himself, he readjusts his guitar strap on his shoulder, making a beeline towards the elevator.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” He mutters under his breath, fingers jabbing the down button at frantic speed.

Behind him, a door clicks shut. You step out, double-checking that your front door is locked properly.

You turn around, only to be faced with the broad back of your tall neighbour from the end of the corridor. You’ve crossed paths a few times before, but only briefly. From what you could gather, he orders a shit ton of takeout (as evident from the piles of recycled takeaway containers he leaves intermittently by his door), and is always up at irregular hours. You vaguely remember brushing past him by the elevator way past midnight a few weeks ago when you came home from a company dinner that ran way over. You were tired, shoulders slumped, looking forward to a warm shower and a good night’s sleep; whereas he was dressed in all black, hood pulled up over his head, backpack slung over his shoulder. He looked like he was going somewhere – at 2am.

You shake those thoughts away. It’s just past seven, and you’re running slightly late for your dinner with an old friend. The bus leaves in five minutes, so you really have to get to the bus stop soon. You briefly consider running down the stairs, but decide against it given you’re on the ninth floor.

You stand carefully behind your neighbour. He’s bouncing on his feet, fingers tapping against his thighs impatiently. Perhaps you’re not the only one in a rush.

The elevator dings, signalling its arrival.

Jae swears the door slides open at a snail’s pace. He’d already been late for the last few gigs – he couldn’t afford to not be on time today, unless he wanted his head on the chopping block. He quickly jogs in, pressing for the ground floor, but he’s so absorbed in getting in before the ahjumma arrives that he fails to notice your presence.

Your eyes meet in a split second, and he flashes you an apologetic look, before pressing the doors shut.

That bastard!

“I’m sorry!” His voice filters through the rapidly closing doors as you stand there in shock, refusing to believe that your neighbour just slammed the elevator door shut in your face.

Needless to say, you were late to your dinner.

For the next few days, whenever your line of sight falls upon that particular neighbour’s door, you feel your blood boiling underneath your skin.

───────────

You settle into the elevator, pressing your AirPods into your ears, ready to start the morning commute and face the day. It’s a Monday, the start of a new week, and you already miss the soft crinkle of your sheets under your skin.

Just as the doors slide close, a hand sticks in between the doors, prompting it to re-open.

Your eyebrow lifts at the new intruder.

And in walks none other than your menace of a neighbour.

He’s sporting large wire-rimmed, round glasses this time. A shoulder bag hangs upon his lithe frame, and headphones sit snug around his neck. A small ponytail sits atop his head.

You squint your eyes at it, staring.

He sucks in a breath, caught off guard by your presence. He nods his head, almost sheepishly, averting his gaze towards his old Converse, worn from years of sticky bar floors and spilt coffee.

The elevator doors slide close, trapping the two of you inside the metal cell.

You know it’s rude to stare, but the contrast between the tiny ponytail and the rest of him (or what you know of him, at least) is too stark to ignore.

He seems to feel the weight of your gaze, following your line of sight before patting his head down with his hand, wincing internally at the realisation that he forgot to fix his hair after brushing his teeth and washing his face.

The air is tense and silent for the rest of the ride. You have nothing to say to him. He seems to be mulling over the right words.

The doors slide open, just as his lips part.

“I’m sorry again.” He calls out, voice small as he realises the chances of you hearing him are slim. You’d already stepped forward, feet crossing the threshold of the elevator. He continues anyway. “I know it was a pretty rude thing to do, but I couldn’t afford to be late again. I… I’m sorry.”

You stop in your tracks. You don’t say anything, or turn around. You simply nod lightly, before continuing with the rest of your day.

Jae lets out a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding.

Let me make it up to you, he wants to say, but the words die in his mouth.

───────────

It’s early – way too early, and Jae tries but fails miserably to rub the sleep from his eyes. He yawns, wondering to himself how anyone could possibly function at the crack of dawn.

(Or at least, it feels like the crack of dawn for him, a seasoned night owl. It is, in fact, quarter past seven, which is a perfectly normal time for human beings to start their days.)

He glances at the clock.

Eight minutes, Jae reckons. Eight minutes before the morning rush starts and he’d have to interact with other people like a normal, functioning member of society.

A sense of dread settles over him.

For now, he absentmindedly wipes over the surface of the coffee machine, the paddle, the coffee grinder – his metal companions for the morning shift. To his left, just at the corner of his eyes, sits his notebook, open to his recent work.

It’s an uptempo, pop beat coupled with a melody that sits easily on the ears. He has the instrumentals locked in, but the lyrics are a different story. It’s taking him longer than usual to come up with a cohesive narrative, and by this point, he’s tired of constantly hitting dead ends.

The windchime sings, signalling the arrival of customers. The early summer air blows through the open doors, the fresh scent of newly sprouting trees mingling with the lingering aroma of coffee beans in the air.

“Welcome to – Oh?”

Jae stops, tongue tied. An uneasy smile works its way onto his lips. He tries to conceal his surprise with his best customer service face. “Good morning, what can I get for you?”

Your eyes meet his in recognition. A look passes through your face for a mere second, before you recover your composure. You flash him a polite, tight-lipped smile. “Morning, can I get an iced latte please?”

He pulls a plastic cup from the organised pile, scribbling onto its side with a black marker. “Iced latte, coming right up.” He smiles , keying in your order and readying the card machine.

You linger by the counter. The cafe is empty, as it usually is. You’d tried to come in earlier to beat the morning rush and get your caffeine hit before stepping onto the train.

It’s funny, you think to yourself. You’ve lived in this apartment for months now, and frequented this cafe a few times a week, but you’ve never once crossed paths with your barista neighbour. Perhaps the timing never lined up properly, until now.

“Iced latte!” The voice you’ve only heard from the echoes along your hallway or within the confines of the metal elevator rings throughout the empty space.

The owner of said voice, whose eyes were partially concealed by his too-long fringe and a cap, shines slightly as he passes you your drink. You find it hard not to notice the dark eyebags sitting below his brown orbs.

“Thank you.” You mumble , voice small. You feel uncertain, as though you should say something more, but decide against it. After all, he did close the elevator door on you.

“Wait!” Jae calls out, stopping you from leaving. He disappears behind the counter for a second, and re-emerges with a brown bag. He passes it to you.

“What…?”

“It’s on the house, I hope you like chocolate chip cookies.” He explains sheepishly. “An apology for what I did last time. I truly am sorry.” He says , voice and eyes both laced with sincerity.

“I… Thank you. It’s fine.” You reply, accepting the cookie, but unsure of what to make of the interaction. The words linger in the air for a moment too long.

“Jae.” He blurts out, a desperate attempt to fill the silence. Inwardly, he cringes at himself. “My name is Jae. You’re 918, right?”

A small grin spreads across your lips. You nod, “Yeah, I’m Y/N.”

“Well, I won’t keep you. See you around, Y/N.”

───────────

It’s funny, because you swear you’ve never seen Jae at the cafe before, until that day.

And then, all of a sudden, he starts popping up everywhere.

The elevator, the cafe, the recycling bins downstairs, at the convenience store across the road, by the bus stop.

You searched it up late last night. It’s called the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon; the frequency illusion – the phenomenon of suddenly noticing something, or rather, someone, and then seeing it appear everywhere around you.

Six minutes.

There’s not much time until your bus comes, and if you miss this one, you’d have to squish and be squished in the next one. You briefly consider skipping coffee this morning, but a yawn tears through your soul, reminding you of just how late you stayed up last night.

This won’t do.

You push past the cafe’s double doors, feeling the scent of freshly brewed coffee enveloping your fatigued body.

That, and a now familiar voice.

“Morning!” He’s rather chirpy today, you think to yourself as you approach the counter. “The usual?”

You nod, stifling a yawn. Wordlessly, you go through the motions of a cafe regular, pulling out your phone to pay and passing Jae your loyalty card.

“Long night?” He asks from beyond the steam and screams of the coffee machine.

You shake your head. “No, just bad sleep.”

He laughed, eyes glinting teasingly. “Have you ever considered that perhaps your caffeine addiction is messing with the quality of your sleep?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Don’t take my one single joy away from me.”

Jae pulls his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying, I know I work in a cafe and all and we profit immensely from this addiction of yours, but cutting down wouldn’t hurt.”

You pout, arms reaching out for your savior; your beloved iced latte. “I’ll consider it.”

He reaches across the counter with your coffee, but not before pretending to pull it back. Your hands follow the direction of the plastic cup a little too closely, fingers brushing his with a feather light touch.

“Wow, you really do have a problem.”

“Shut up.” You scold. “I’m leaving!”

“Oh, one sec.” He hands you another brown bag, this one much larger than before. “I messed up an order – there’s two slices of cheese instead of one. I’d usually just play dumb, but you know how particular the neighbour ahjumma is with her ham and cheese croissants.”

You laugh, because you in fact have no clue about this whatsoever. You just take his word for it. “Given how much free food you’re dishing out to customers, you’re probably running a loss at this rate.”

“Not just any customer, just you.” Jae teases, a playful lilt in his voice.

You wave at him, looking at your app for the next bus.

───────────

It’s the weekend, and the weather outside is smiling at you, beckoning you to leave the confines of your house.

You comply, pulling on a simple t-shirt and shorts, and tying your hair back in an attempt to look somewhat neat. You step into your slides, grab your keys and let your feet guide you towards your recent obsession. Everyday, you found yourself in one of three places – your home, your office, or the cafe downstairs.

“Welcome to – Oh?” A curious laugh punctuates the unfinished sentence. “It’s the weekend!”

“I know.” You reply breezily, leaning across the counter. “I’m addicted, remember?”

Jae laughs, and you’re suddenly struck by how familiar it sounds in your ears, like a memory you keep reliving, over and over again. “You really are. The usual?”

You hum in agreement. “Yes, and…” You trail off, eyes travelling across the pastries on display in the fridge. It’s the weekend, after all. You make up your mind in an instant. “And a chocolate chip cookie, please.”

“Coming right up.” He nods, firing the coffee machine up.

You linger by the counter, your usual spot, not really bothering to find a seat. You prefer to be in his company anyways.

“Any plans for today?” He asks casually, just as he shovels ice and pours milk into a plastic cup.

You shake your head, pulling your phone out to pick up where you left off from last night. “Not much – laundry, chores, groceries.”

“What are you up to?” Jae wonders, setting your iced latte down on the counter top. He attempts to peek past the coffee machine, but to no avail.

You hum absentmindedly. “Hmm, sudoku. I’m not really good at it though.”

“Pass it over.”

You lift your eyebrow, doubtful. “Really?”

“You’d be surprised.”

Considering you have nothing to lose, you hand your phone over, in exchange for the iced latte. You take a big sip, allowing the caffeine to flow through your veins. You shut your eyes and sigh appreciatively.

“Addict.” Jae scoffs, watching you with a teasing glint in his eyes, before turning his attention to your puzzle.

He remains silent for a moment, studying the screen. “You’re nearly there.” He begins. “But I think you need to take a few more risks.”

“What do you mean?” You lean forward, trying to get a glimpse of what he’s seeing that you clearly aren’t.

You get all up in his personal space, staring at your phone without paying any attention to the way Jae’s breath hitches in his throat. The scent of your freshly washed hair invades his senses, and for a second, he’s not sure whether he wants to take a deep inhale or hide away in the storeroom out back.

“Jae, what do you mean? I don’t get it.” You stare, willing the right numbers to appear in the right boxes.

He clears his throat. Focus. “I mean, you can just take guesses to eliminate your choices. Like, see here?” He points to a pair of boxes in the corner of the board. “The eight could go here, or there right? So you can just take a guess. And if it’s wrong, you’ll know immediately where it’s meant to go.”

You mull over his words, “I guess you’re right… How are you so good at this?” You wonder aloud, looking up to stare into his eyes. You feel your heart stutter in your chest at the closeness. You swear you could count his eyelashes if you focused.

“Uhm,” He gulps. He tries to compose himself, fingers reaching for the brown paper bag, long forgotten. “Your cookie.”

“Thanks.” You mumble, quickly accepting it and taking a bite. You wait patiently for his response.

“Yeah, my sister used to play heaps. We passed a sudoku book back and forth on the back pews of Sunday church when we were kids.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image your mind conjures up at his description. “Really?”

He bites his lip, a shy smile gracing his features. “Yeah, pretty lame, huh?”

You shake your head. “No, just a bit nerdy.”

“Sounds about right.”

───────────

The days pass in a whirlwind.

Your newfound routine gives you comfort. You find yourself looking forward to waking up to a new day, and another cup of coffee from your neighbour-turned-barista.

(You didn’t know it then, but neither did he. And the lingering conversations and warm exchanges prompted him to request more morning shifts, and to be home earlier, and to get to bed at reasonable times – just so he could be the best version of himself when he greets you in the morning.)

Early summer rolls into the rainy season, and the rain fades away to autumn. As the weather grows colder, you pull on more layers to keep warm. And yet, ironically, it feels like you are slowly, but surely, peeling back the layers of yourself.

(For him, of course.)

It’s a chilly morning, and you still haven’t let up on the iced lattes. You walk into the cafe, appreciating the warmth of the heaters in the cozy space.

“You’re a bit late today.” He remarks, pushing the iced latte across the counter, ready for your arrival.

You laugh, waving to greet him. The two of you dance a familiar tango – you pay, and he stamps your loyalty card. “Thanks for being prepared. I took the day off today.”

“Oh, how come?” He asks, fingers fiddling with his pen. His notebook lay open, long forgotten.

“Gotta go to the hospital.” You reply, pouting as you sip your morning coffee.

His eyes shoot up in alarm. “Hospital? Everything okay? You feeling alright?”

“Woah, woah.” You scoff, finding his worried expression endearing. “Aren’t you a little too invested in my health, as my barista?”

He averts his gaze, hands gesturing vaguely in the air. “You know, this cafe would crumble without your patronage.”

You laugh at that. “Yeah, well, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Just a routine checkup, nothing too serious, I hope.”

Jae breathes a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good to hear. As your barista, I hope you will remain healthy so I can keep enabling your caffeine addiction.” He disappears briefly from behind the counter, and emerges with another brown bag. “A sweet treat, for good luck.”

He sets it down on the counter, next to his notebook. You reach towards it, but your eyes linger on the page. Chicken scrawls fill the lines. “What is it?” You ask, curious.

Jae sighs deeply. “A song I’ve been working on for ages, but it just refuses to come out right.”

“You write songs?”

He looks at you, eyes vulnerable. “Uhm, yeah. I sing too, and play the guitar. And the keyboard, if it’s required.”

“Oh!” The pieces of the puzzle fall into place. “That’s why you carry around a guitar!”

“No,” He begins, voice uncertain. “That’s because I play in a band.”

“You play in a band? What?!”

“Why are you so surprised?” He laughs nervously, unsure of what to make of your constant line of questioning.

“Nothing, it’s just… You’re… Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t necessarily fit the image of a band member.”

Jae clasps his hand across his chest in faked agony. “What does that mean?!”

“I mean, no offence, but you said you used to play sudoku with your sister in church. You’re telling me that boy grew up to play in a band?”

His lips formed a pitiful frown. “Hey, now you’re hurting my feelings. And yes, maybe you don’t really know me that well – have you considered that?”

You open your mouth, but fail to come up with a smart response. “I’m sorry,” You say sincerely. “I guess we don’t really know each other that well for two people who spend most mornings together.”

“Now you’re just making it sound romantic, Y/N.”

Your eyes meet his, holding his gaze for a few moments. The air is strung high with an unspeakable tension.

You take another sip in an effort to dissipate the awkward air, before staring at his notebook. “Can I take a look?”

Jae nods, a sense of deja vu washing over him. “Are you gonna help me with my lyrics cos I helped you with your sudoku?”

“Perhaps.” You mumble, reading his words. It was messy, barely legible, with a slight slant – somehow, it was so him. “Don’t underestimate me, you’re looking at the eighth grade spelling bee champion.”

He steps away to clean the dishes, leaving you to your devices.

When he comes back, you’re already scribbling across the page.

“How much do the words have to rhyme?” You ask, curious.

He hums. “Not exactly, but they do have to flow naturally together. I don’t really know – it’s hard to explain, I just go with what feels right. But for some reason, I’m really struggling with this one.”

You nod, considering your options. “I’ll see what I can do.”

───────────

All day, at the office, you run your fingers across a single piece of paper.

A five-inch piece of parchment with the name of a band you never heard of, until this morning. A date, a time, and a venue not too far away from your office.

You’ve been thinking about it all day – what his voice would sound like, what you should wear, how the audience would react. Your colleagues had to tap you repeatedly on your shoulder to ensure you were paying attention during the weekly stand-up.

And yet, nothing could calm the persistent hammer of your heart against your ribcage.

You met him first, as the annoying neighbour that slammed the elevator doors in your face.

You got to know him, slowly, as the barista who made your iced coffee every morning with a warm smile.

Tonight, you’ll see a whole other side of him. The performer; the artist underneath the overgrown fringe and wide-rimmed glasses and black hoodies. A different Jae.

It strikes you, then. The layers of him are slowly getting revealed to you, one by one, each more interesting than the last, and you want nothing more than to keep peeling back the layers of him.

Three more minutes…

You think to yourself, willing the hands of the clock to move faster so you could get ready to leave.

───────────

“Two minutes til showtime!” The stagehand calls in a booming voice.

On your trip back from the bathroom, you catch him standing in the corner, alone, leaning against a wall.

His fingers twirl the guitar pick over and over, a nervous tick.

You debate between leaving and staying. As your thoughts circle in your head, you watch him pull out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

This wouldn’t do.

You walk up to him and wave.

He sees you crossing the room and flashes you an uncertain smile.

“What are you doing here?” He asks softly, voice small. “You’re not gonna get front row seats at this rate.”

“I’m here on very important business.” You tease, a grin working its way onto your lips. Your gaze flickers towards the pack, and for a second you contemplate whether what you are about to do will cross an unspoken boundary, but you think, to hell with it.

“I’m not –” He begins.

You wordlessly reach out towards his hand, holding his trembling ones in yours. “No,” you spoke softly, with a quiet determination. “You won’t. You don’t need it to do well out there, trust me.”

Jae looks at you for a second, in awe. He looks away when the tightness in his chest gets too much. “How do you know?” He whispers, voice so small that your heart stutters in your chest.

“Because,” You take a deep breath, knowing that your words have the potential to make or break his confidence. “You’ve done this before, and you’ll do it again. Because you’ve conquered your nerves in the past and gave the audience a great show. Because you’ve performed and rehearsed these songs so many times. Because I helped you with the lyrics for one of them.” You pause, tightening your grip on his hands, and staring deep into his eyes. The lighting around you is scarce, and you can just make out your own reflection in his large glasses. But beyond that, his eyes are fixated solely on you, unwavering. “And because I believe in you.”

“Y/N,” Jae lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. It feels like a huge burden has been lifted off his shoulders. “I –”

“It’s showtime!”

A worried look passes across his eyes. You hold his shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “Go, I’ll be watching from the front row.”

“Promise?” He asks, uncertain.

You nod vigorously, knowing right then and there that you would promise him the world if you could.

───────────

The performance passes in a blur.

One moment you’re jamming to the addictive beats, the next you’re being swept off your feet by Jae’s sweet, sweet vocals. You welcomed it all – moving your body to the music and allowing yourself to be serenaded by the band’s frontman.

All that dancing and cheering makes you parched, and you want to prolong the buzz and adrenaline with a glass of something chilled and strong.

“Hey, can I –”

“Gin and tonic for her, please. And a pint of beer for myself.” A voice, low and familiar, spoke next to you.

You turn towards it, and settle your eyes on the owner. He leans on the bar counter, all 6 feet of him, messy hair with sweat threatening to drip down his chin, staining his graphic tee and ripped jeans. He flashes you a teasing smirk.

“Jae,” You breathe, unsure of what to say or do after being completely moved by his performance and stage presence. You had no idea that your klutz of a neighbour could get the crowd going like that, like they were hypnotised by a magician. This is an entirely different side of him that you’ve never seen before, and you’re not entirely sure how to interact with it.

“Y/N,” Jae hands you your drink, and clinks your glass in a toast. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes.” You answer without hesitation. Taking a sip of your drink, you feel the cool liquid rush down your throat, doing little to calm your quickening pulse.

“I could tell.” He laughs as he takes a swig of his beer. Jae considers you for a second, eyeing you with a certain intensity that makes you warm both inside and out. “You were having a bit too much fun. It was a bit distracting, honestly.” He continues in a playful tone.

You look at him questioningly.

Instead of answering, he just moves closer to you. The bar is getting more crowded by the minute as people try to refill their drinks after the performance. Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the heat from his warm body radiate towards you. Bar goers begin yelling out their orders, and along with the music blasting from the speakers, it becomes harder and harder to hear each other.

Jae places a steady arm around your shoulders, shielding you from the wave of people moving towards the counter. He leans close to your ears, his breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. “How about we get some food? It’s way too hectic here.”

You’re not sure what comes over you, then. Maybe it’s the close proximity with Jae that messes with your brainwaves, or the reassuring squeeze of your shoulders, or perhaps just the comfort of leaning against his sturdy form in a room full of strangers. You reach within yourself and find the courage to utter the next few words, “Are you taking me out on a date?”

“Am I what?”

“I’m not repeating myself!” You laugh, ushering him towards the general direction of the exit.

He trails closely behind you, pretending that he didn’t hear you. “Say it again! I can’t hear –”

You shoot a pointed look towards him once the two of you make it outside. The constant pushing and shoving ensures you’re pressing flush against him, his arm never straying far from you.

The night air is chilly, and you feel a shiver work its way through your bones. Wordlessly, he pulls out a hoodie from his backpack that you didn’t even realise he had with him. Jae helps you pull it over your head, and work your arms through the sleeves. You’re momentarily winded by how his scent swallows you whole. When you emerge from the oversized hoodie, completely engulfed by the fabric, he helps to sweep your hair away from your eyes.

He smiles at you like you’re the best thing that ever happened to him. His gaze is soft and sparkly, his gentle touch lingering on you. You wish it stays there forever.

“Jae…”

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

───────────

And that’s how you ended up back where it all started – within the four walls of the elevator.

Lingering touches, harmonious giggles, and smiles that hide more than you’re both willing to put into words.

The two of you stumble in unceremoniously, drunk off of something richer and more potent than alcohol.

If you were asked to recall what your conversation was about, you probably wouldn’t be able to give an accurate recount. Your ears could only register the bright notes of his laughter, high and loose, yet familiar all the same. Something about the set, perhaps, or his nerves, but you really couldn’t pay attention to much else other than his warm body against yours.

It feels like you were wrapped up in a warm bubble, away from the rest of the world. As the elevator ascends to the ninth floor in what feels like the longest ride ever, you find yourself welcoming the touch of his arms as they snake around your hips, pulling you real close.

Jae presses his lips against your hair, deeply inhaling the whiffs of shampoo that he only ever caught briefly on your morning coffee runs. It makes him lightheaded, but in the best way. “Hmm,” He hums, and you feel rather than hear him mumble against your skin. “You know, I love being around you.”

You giggle against his chest, fingers absentmindedly playing with the belt loops of his jeans. “Really?”

“Yeah, I was never much of a morning person, but somehow you changed me.” Jae pulls away slightly, and you have to actively fight the whine that works up your throat at the lack of close contact. “I love how I am around you.”

“Me too.” You admit, looking deep into his eyes, unconsciously nodding and moving closer to him. Now that you got a taste of him, you couldn’t bear being apart.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A few moments of silence follows, as the two of you sway in each other’s arms. Jae’s eyes break away from yours and travel slightly down, down, and down, towards your lips. As if on cue, you bite on your lips, heartbeat thundering against your ribcage.

“Don’t,” He groans, pained. “Don’t do that, you’re so distracting…”

You laugh a little, but refuse.

Jae reaches to cup your face in his hand, his thumb working to pull your lips away. “Can I…” He breathes, leaning in on instinct.

Ten seconds, you think, until you can finally indulge in your curiosities (recently, your waking thoughts are preoccupied by how it feels to have his lips touch yours).

“Can I… you know?”

You couldn’t help laughing at his nervous demeanour. “What? I don’t know.”

“Y/N, please…” Jae whines, his thumb caressing the side of your cheek with a feather light touch, conveying his pleas. He hopes you get the message and stop torturing him already, for goodness sake. For what it’s worth, he’s waited long enough.

You shrug your shoulders, settling deeper into his hold, enjoying the skin-to-skin contact with someone who was always in your orbit but felt just beyond your reach.

Jae licks his own lips nervously. “I… Kiss… Can I –”

You don’t let him finish his sentence.

You grab him by the collar and pull him towards you. The moment your lips touch, the haziness in your mind clears. Nothing matters in that moment other than the feeling of him against you, pressed so impossibly close. It’s like you woke up from a deep slumber, refreshed, or the first satisfying breath after being trapped in an enclosed place. Time slows as your lips move languidly against his, your hands exploring on its own accord, first trailing down his shirt, then up to hook behind his neck, clutching his hair in earnest. At the same time, he walks you backwards and presses you against the metal wall. His palm, big and warm, cradles your face in his grasp, as though you’re his most prized possession. You let him, melting in his touch.

The seconds pass in this way, the two of you too lost in each other to care about anything else around you. And you want to keep going too, if not for the inconvenience that is breathing.

You pull away reluctantly, filling your lungs with fresh air, taking a moment to recover because – what was that? You feel like your brain is turning into mush.

Jae can’t seem to get enough. He holds you close against him, his arms tightening around your middle, taking a big inhale as he buries his face in your neck.

“You have no idea…” He begins, breathless. “No idea how long I’ve waited to do that…”

You just giggle softly in response, not trusting your lips to form words yet. You just snuggle closer to him.

“Do you wanna come back to mine? I’ll order food.”

You nod shyly.

“Also, what’s taking this lift so long…” He tears away from you briefly to stare at the buttons, only to realise that neither of you even pressed them in the first place.

Laughter spills from your lips at the mishap, clearly both of you were too caught up in each other to notice.

And so the rest of the night ends with lots of fried chicken, cheesy rom-coms and cuddling on his couch.

(Of course, he lets you steal the duvet at night, preferring to spoon you instead in search of warmth.)

(He lets you steal his hoodie too, and a t-shirt or two. Or a few.)

(And his heart.)

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its-my-whump · 1 year ago

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Medwhump May- Day 5

"Stay with me."

@medwhumpmay

Tw: gore, cpr, resus and absolutely no medical accuracy or knowledge of medication, sorry! (always happy to learn something new, feel free to tell me)

Part 5 (all others here)

Everybody had their hands away from the dead body with the fibrillating heart.

Electricty jumped throughout that fragil frame of a woman.

Her head lolled to the side, the ambu bag pulling at her lips. Arms exploded in the air and fell back. The IV line jiggled, her feet also fell back with a distinct thud on the table.

The assistent had a bloody gloved hand on her shoulder a few moments after. "Come on little miss, stay with me."

The jumble on the monitor formed a single spike. And turned into an unstable sinus rhythm.

"That's it, hunny." His hand squeezed her shoulder encouraging. "We're going to get you through this."

But as if fate had her hands in it, the jumble appearing on the monitor again, begged to differ. "Shit!" The assitent yelled again and pressed his straightened arms down on her bruised sternum without hesitation.

By his third compression, a rib shifted and cracked. The sound echoing through the busy OR.

The anestesioligist had his hands on the ambu bag again and was squeezing air into her useless lungs.

After about 18 compressions, the surgeon demanded a status check again. His assitent, breathing heavily from the strain pulled his hands away from her bruised sternum. Despite, the still pumping anesthesiologist, everybody had their eyes on the equipment.

The young lady was clinically dead, but her bloody, opened body, covered in red and blue bruises from cpr, was slightly shaking from her fibrillating heart. "Still in vfib. Shocking her again." The head surgeon anounced strongly, already the paddles, handles covered in her blood, in hand.

"Clear!" Everybody had their hands visibly away from the table.

Another electric shock jumped through the lifeless form. Another few thuds from extremities following gravity back to the metal surface. Her head already fallen to the side, just wiggled slightly.

No change on the monitor. A frantic line consisting out of tiny spikes lining themselves against another. Two zeros blinking at the edge of the display. The assitent was just about to get his hands down on her broken ribs.

"AGAIN!" The surgeon cried from the other side of the table. "CLEAR!"

No one had really moved. The small body jolted on the table. This time hands and feet flying even higher, just to fall back looking more lifeless. Her feet had fallen to the sides. The outstretched arm with the IV lay where it had fallen, slightly bend. The other hand had landed on her belly.

"Come on, little miss! Come on!" The assitent was looking in her pale, expressionless face as the anesthesiologist took a hold of the ambu bag again.

The surgeon, paddles still in hand, was eyeing the monitor, ready to shock her again.

Nothing. Two tense seconds passed and the sinus rhythm was back. "That's it, baby girl! I know, you could do it!" He gave the unconscious woman on his table a sympathic smile. Then his face and tone turned professional again. "Amiodarone now. We don't want to lose her again."

->Day6

My masterlist

#medwhump may #day 5 #stay with me #whump #writing #whump writing #female resus #female cpr #cpr #resus #female cardiophile #female whumpee

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yuta-nakamots · 3 months ago

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My First and Last - P.Jisung (Teaser)

Pairing - Jisung x GN Reader (described to be within 4 years of Jisung’s age)

Genres - Action, Angst (Fluff included in the full fic)

Warnings - character death, zombie-like creatures, violence, explosions, gun use, blood, description of injuries

Summary - First loves and last breaths. You and Jisung experience love and life together until the end.

Teaser Word Count - 0.9k

Estimated Release - April 21, 2025

Author’s Note - This fic takes place in the same universe as my fic Ride Or Die - K.Jongin

Taglist - @k-vanity @neocity-net (leave a comment or send an ask!)

Written for the 21 Ways to Kill Your Lover Collab hosted by @du0tine. Also part of my NCT: Seven Deadly Sins Collection.

Now Playing: My First and Last - NCT Dream, Hot - Le Sserafim, Die With A Smile - Lady Gaga & Bruno Mars, Zombie - Day6

In a world where neon-lit skyscrapers in the sky cast long shadows over the decaying remnants of a society that once was, and in the rubble of it stood an abandoned military base. It was bustling with activity, much more humane than the rest of its surroundings. This base was one of the last places free of Infected, serving as a training camp designed to combat the spread of the disease. The camp was a fortified enclave amidst the chaos, both a sanctuary and a battleground. In its center were you, Jisung, and Chenle, along with the other soldiers and refugees that resided in the camp.

The three of you had become close friends at this base after Chenle had saved you and Jisung during a reconnaissance mission in your childhood neighborhood. You and Jisung were merely teenagers, playing in a park under the watchful eyes of your parents when suddenly a horde of Infected swarmed, and in the blink of an eye, both of you had become orphans.