radenajeng

[radenajeng]

Older Boyfriend Jeongin

Tags: idol!jeongin, female!reader, hurt/comfort, emotional maturity, mild age gap, reader is early legal age, reader is NOT minor.

A/N : English is not my first language, and this is my first time writing something like this (idek what writing style is this the hell) but i hope you enjoy.

He’s known as the maknae on top. Everyone treats him a little differently. He gets to eat first, gets extra turns in games, and when he messes up, people just laugh it off.

They coddle him, tease him, ruffle his hair like he’s still the youngest of them all.

And most days, he doesn’t really mind.

But you know a different side of Jeongin. The one who doesn’t ask for special treatment. The one who doesn't act like the baby. The one who knows how to show up for someone. Quietly, consistently, like it’s second nature.

olderboyfriend!jeongin who doesn’t post you, doesn’t flaunt you. But always has a hair clip stuck in his bag strap, a playlist titled like a love letter, and an emoji that represents you in every description of his posts just so people know he's not single.

olderboyfriend!jeongin who never shows you to the world, but introduces you to his family and members with his arms around your waist, smiling so wide his eyes disappear into crescents.

olderboyfriend!jeongin who is not only say “i love you”, but adjusts your seatbelt, charges your phone, walks you to your door, carrying your purse around like second nature.

olderboyfriend!jeongin who plays tough with the members, rolls his eyes at their teasing, shoves Hyunjin off the couch for being too dramatic, but he lets you lie on his chest until his arm goes numb. Lets you take his hoodie even when it's his favorite. Lets you in.

olderboyfriend!jeongin who still gets shy around you sometimes. who bites the inside of his cheek when you compliment him, and pretends to scroll through his phone when your head rests on his shoulder.

olderboyfriend!jeongin who remembers the exact way you breathe when you're overwhelmed. who answers late-night calls with a voice low and steady, whispers “take your time” instead of “what’s wrong?”

olderboyfriend!jeongin who doesn’t talk over you when you’re mad. He waits, lets you finish every word, every sigh, every silence.

He doesn’t try to win.

He tries to understand.

So when you snap — sharp words, a crack in your voice, something bitter you instantly regret — he doesn’t flinch. doesn’t fight back.

He just looks at you with that quiet, steady gaze that makes you feel both too much and never too little.

Then he breathes in, slow and careful, like he's afraid anything louder might hurt you more.

"i know you didn’t mean all that," he says, voice low.

"but even if you did, i’m not going to stop showing up."

And maybe that’s what gets you.

Not the apology. not the patience.

But the fact that he stays.

Even when you push.

Even when you're not sure you deserve it.

He stays.

olderboyfriend!jeongin who listens quietly when you say sorry. who pulls you into a hug before you can say more, tucks your head into his chest and whispers, “we’re okay.”

olderboyfriend!jeongin who lets you be messy, sharp, complicated, whatever it is that shapes your personality — and never once makes you feel hard to love. Because he knows love isn’t about perfection.

It’s about staying. Even when it’s not easy.

—————

©radenajeng, June 2025.

[radenajeng]

Art Lesson With Hyunjin

Tags: idol!hyunjin (Barely mentioned it), soft boyfriend energy, established relationship, domestic fluff, reader hate painting, character growth (?).

A/N: English is not my first language.

You hate painting.

Everyone knows that. You love doing many things—writing, reading, even learning quantum physics theories just for fun. But painting? Drawing? You’ve always drawn the line there. You never understood when people said painting was therapeutic. If anything, it felt like an extra burden on your mind.

And yet, here you are.

Stuck in a painting date with your boyfriend, inside his tiny studio that smells faintly of acrylic and jasmine-scented hand soap.

You sit in front of a medium-sized canvas. To your left, there’s a small table draped with a pristine white cloth—oddly clean for something surrounded by open paint tubes. The colors sit in neat rows, almost mocking you.

You stare at the canvas. The same tightness in your chest starts to creep in, the one you used to feel every time a high school art teacher handed you a blank sheet and said, “Express yourself.” You glare at the canvas like it’s a sworn enemy. Its untouched white surface taunts you, and you find it infuriating.

You let out a heavy sigh.

“Babe, you do remember I hate painting, right?”

You raise your voice a little, just enough for Hyunjin to hear you from the kitchen.

“You don’t hate it,” he calls back, calm and collected.

“Yes, I do.”

Hyunjin walks in, carrying a glass and a small plate—both in your favorite color, the very ones he bought just for you the last time he visited this place.

“You don’t hate it. You just haven’t... clicked with it yet.”

“What’s that even supposed to mean?”

He pulls a chair from the corner of the room and slides it close behind you. He sets the glass and plate down beside the paints, carefully filling them with your favorite drink and snacks you two grabbed on the way here.

“It means I’m going to make you fall in love with it.”

He wraps his arms around you from behind. One hand brushes lightly against your side. His chin rests gently on your shoulder. With the other hand, he reaches for a tube of blue paint, then black. He squeezes out just enough, grabs a medium-sized brush, and guides your hand toward the blue.

You want to object. You really do. But the warmth of his arms, the steady rise and fall of his breath against your back—it softens you. Anchors you.

Slowly, he leads your hand across the canvas, sweeping the blue into a gradient that grows deeper the further down it goes.

“Have you ever stopped to ask yourself why you hate painting?”

“Because I can’t paint?” you offer, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

Hyunjin chuckles softly. His laugh vibrates lightly against your shoulder. You scowl at the sound. Then he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck.

“That might be part of it,” he murmurs. “But I don’t think that’s the whole story.”

Once the gradient settles into something soft and oceanic, he dips your brush into black, guiding it to trace a circular frame around the blue—like an eclipse slowly encroaching on daylight.

“You amaze me,” he says, not looking at you, but at the way the paint takes shape.

“You’re brilliant at so many things. You’re precise. You’re focused. You chase excellence like it’s second nature. And you always succeed. You always finish what you start.”

“Thank you,” you reply, kissing his cheek gently. “You, of all people, know how hard I try.”

Hyunjin rinses the brush, switches it out for a smaller one, then squeezes out a bit of orange paint—just enough to make a mess if you wanted to, but you know he won’t.

“But have you ever tried painting, really?” he asks.

You pause.

“...I don’t think I have.”

You glance at the canvas and realize he’s shaping a tiny fish. Orange. Playful. Probably a nod to Nemo.

“That’s the thing,” he says.

“You’ve grown so used to succeeding in everything you do, that when something doesn’t give you immediate results, you pull away. You hate it—not because it’s bad, but because you’re not instantly good at it. And maybe, deep down, you can’t stand the thought of not being excellent at something.”

Silence falls. Not the awkward kind—but the kind that settles. That sinks in, slow and thoughtful. His words echo somewhere inside you, brushing against something tender.

The orange strokes look like a burst of light in the middle of a twilight sea.

“So… what? You think I should start learning to paint now?”

Your voice is still a little defensive, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in it. The kind that makes Hyunjin smile.

“Not if you don’t want to,” he shrugs. “But maybe you can give it a chance. Like you gave me a chance when I asked you out.”

You laugh under your breath, lowering your head, cheeks already starting to burn.

“You were two hours late. And had to sneak away from your fans to meet me.”

“And you still waited,” he grins. “Didn’t you?”

Your laugh turns into a soft giggle, melting into the air between you. You feel light. Not empty—just unburdened.

He picks up your hand again and helps you paint little bubbles around the fish. They drift upward like small floating thoughts.

“We’ll call this piece... The first time you tried.”

“That’s a ridiculously long title.”

“But it’s honest,” he says, stealing a kiss on your cheek like he’s borrowing time from the universe.

You look at the painting again. It’s far from perfect.

But it’s... not awful. Not intimidating.

It’s yours.

For the first time, you don’t feel tight in your chest. You’re not angry at the brush or bitter at the blankness. You’re not trying to win anything.

There’s a small, quiet part of you that feels... calm.

“Okay,” you admit softly. “Maybe I don’t hate painting.”

“You never hated it,” he whispers, pulling you into another embrace.

“You just hadn’t fallen in love with it yet.”

And maybe that’s the truth.

_____

©radenajeng, june 2025.

[radenajeng]

They Are Not Sick, I Just Missed You

Pairing: Lee Know x Veteranian!reader

Tags: cat owner!Lee Know, Idol!Lee Know, fake cat emergencies (may soondoongdori will always be healthy), fluff, reader-insert, one-sided pining.

A/N: English is not my first language.

As the newest veterinarian in your quiet neighborhood clinic, you’re used to people bringing in their pets for checkups, vaccines, and the occasional emergency.

Your days were predictable. A mix of barking dogs, worried owners, and the comforting rhythm of routine. But that sense of normalcy shifted the day Lee Know walked in. The dangerously attractive, emotionally unreadable idol who shows up at your clinic with his cat, Soonie.

At first, you were genuinely excited to care for such an adorable patient — and quietly hoped that having a well-known idol visit your clinic might boost its reputation. It didn’t hurt that he was polite, soft-spoken, and surprisingly attentive for someone so famous.

But as the weeks passed, that initial excitement began to blur into confusion. His visits became more frequent, more peculiar. You started to grow suspicious. He began bringing his other two cats named Doongie and Dori in rotation, each time with a different concern.

“I think he sneezed twice. Just wanted to be safe.”

“Is this a normal paw twitch, or…?”

“I don’t know, he looked at me weird this morning.”

It became a pattern you couldn’t ignore. And yet, without fail, every one of his worries turned out to be baseless assumptions. His cats, of course, were always fine. Healthy. Perfectly content.

But Lee Know kept coming back.

Sometimes with coffee.

Sometimes with a new toy for the clinic.

Sometimes with an excuse so flimsy you almost laughed out loud like, “I think he’s emotionally constipated.”

You try to keep it professional, you really do. But over time, you start to notice little things.

He remembers your favorite snacks that you always eat before treating patients.

He always stays a few minutes longer than necessary.

He always leans against the counter, asking questions with those deep eyes and a smirk that says he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Sometimes, you catch him watching you when he thinks you're not looking. Your heart trips over itself every single time.

Then one day, when you’re closing up and he shows up again. No cat, no excuse. He just says,

“I didn’t know how else to see you without pretending my cats needed help. Do you know how hard it is faking cat symptoms just to talk to you?"

—————

©radenajeng, June 2025.

[radenajeng]

Raden Ajeng ꦫꦢꦺꦤ꧀ꦲꦗꦺꦁ

is a Javanese title of nobility that automatically attaches to an unmarried woman of noble descent from the second to seventh generation of the closest (genealogically) reigning king or leader.

⌗ English is not my first language.

WORK 𖥔

𖥔 STRAY KIDS 𖥔

⤷ Lee Know

★ They Are Not Sick, I Just Missed You.

[radenajeng]

Boarding School Trauma