just want to remind everyone that today is mina’s birthday, and that she would have been turning 26 years old.
life is such a precious gift, and nobody should ever have to feel inclined to take it by any means. mina did not deserve any of the harassment that she received, and as a fandom, we really should take some time to remember her and her story.
to whoever reads this, i want to tell you that compassion goes a long way. the world has become a very dark and evil place, but we should at least have each other to lean on and to comfort one another when things get rough.
in times like these, it is so important that our communities stay filled with positivity and good energy. it’s very easy to become discouraged when surrounded with negativity, and there are tons of people out there fighting their own private battles in life.
kpop might be someone’s source of happiness, and no one deserves to have that taken from them. everyone deserves to feel safe and welcomed in their fandom, and nothing will ever change that fact.
it costs nothing to be kind, so please, treat others with respect and with humanity.
happy birthday mina, and may she rest in peace. 🕊️
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Everytime a miraculous fan blames chloe herself for being a bad person with horrible dialouge and not thomas astruc himself for being a rabbid misogynistic asshole/overall terrible writer, an angel gets shot.
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— PAIRING yang jungwon x fem!idol!reader — WORD COUNT 3.1K — GENRE forbidden relationship, romance, angst — WARNINGS hurt barely any comfort, slight religious themes, profanity, panic attacks, heavy psychological themes, please read with caution!!
— AUTHOR’S NOTE written for my baby rina, i am So Sorry if this came out more angsty than you’d liked i went overboard… also. this is not religious propaganda 0.o happy reading :)
YANG JUNGWON NEVER BELIEVED IN ANGELS, BUT YOU MADE HIS IMPOSSIBLE, POSSIBLE. He always made fun of the angel pick-up lines, the cheesy flirting only making him cringe whenever he heard it.
“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” They’d ask him, the ENGENES. At fansigns, they’d bat their eyes and tell him he looked like an angel, the prettiest man they’d ever laid eyes on.
It was unrealistic, he couldn’t help but think that way. Of course, considering that angels lived in heaven, they should be beautiful. But angels were just dead humans, weren’t they? And if people on earth don’t appreciate the beauty of humanity, what’s the point in doing so for the afterlife?
He appreciated the praise, but the line never stuck out to him.
Not until you.
You were hired to work with ENHYPEN as a makeup artist in 2024, assigned specifically to Jungwon most days. There were few things that could bring peace to Jungwon amidst his heavy schedule— his members, his fans, and the hours he spent in the dressing room with you, making conversation as you made him look pretty.
From the moment he saw you, he’d known you were different. Jungwon worked with beautiful people everyday— he was no stranger to a pretty face, but you were something out of this world. Beauty was inferior to the woman who had been standing in front of him, the smile on your face enough to make him freeze.
In that moment, he’d understood exactly what had been meant by the pick-up lines. Every single corny attempt at flirting had made sense to him now, because in front of him that day, and every day on, had stood an angel.
He meant it more of a question rather than some kind of romantic sneak. It was nearly absurd to him how somebody so perfect had managed to walk into his life. Jungwon didn’t believe he had a type, but when he met you, you had become the standard.
You were everything he never knew he wanted.
From the little things– your laugh, the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, the gentleness of your touch– to the things you’d only ever shown him– the way you cried, how clingy you were, the feelings you never believed you could tell anyone else– everything about you just felt right to him. It was him who was supposed to be with you, him who was supposed to be the one to grow with you and love you with everything he had.
But there was no time for love in the industry. There was no mercy for love in the industry.
Love was a death sentence. The cruelest social suicide, it was the constant reminder that people like Jungwon couldn’t love. He’d be better off on the streets than with a lover, he’d never make it far in his field with a romance on the side.
It threw off the illusion. A single Jungwon was an off-limits Jungwon– there was no way to fantasize, to dream, to rack in profit from the idea of him. It reiterated the harsh truth that Jungwon belonged to nobody but himself, that he was a human who felt, who loved.
Idols never tried it, no matter how loud their heart would scream for it. Love was something far out of reach, from the moment you pass the audition until the day your contract expires. It would never work, and those who dared, it destroyed them.
Yet, Jungwon tried his odds with you, took the chance for his happiness.
And you as a girlfriend had been even better than you as a friend. It was serenity, the security Jungwon had longed for– the feeling that someone was truly there for him, that they were unwavering and would forever stay. You were everything and more.
It had been a secret relationship, the kind of love that grew behind closed doors, behind the backs of those who’d never accept it. The members, the staff, the company, nobody knew, and it was perfect.
Loving you had been the best thing Jungwon had ever done, the best decision he’d ever made for himself.
Jungwon had spent his entire life putting others before himself, putting rationality over sentiment. He was nobody’s doormat, but he made himself available to whoever needed him. He looked out for his members before himself, he patched everyone else’s wounds before tending to his own, and he swore to it that he’d remain someone people could rely on. But, as it would be for any leader, it gets hard caring for so many people at once, and eventually, you push yourself out of that rotation.
You were the first choice he’d chosen for him. You’d breathed life anew into his lungs from the very first kiss, and he’d been set free. He’d chosen life, chosen love, chosen Jungwon for the first time in his life. And it was beautiful, like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
But beauty never lasted forever. Happiness was finite, life was fleeting, and what came after was death. The storm. Heartbreak.
It was the two of you at the wrong place at the wrong time, falling victim to the peeping eyes of the paparazzi. A stolen photo of a kiss so passionate and full of love it made the public seethe with anger. A scandal that shook the industry, threatened the future of Jungwon’s career, and completely ended yours.
“Stay away from her.” The four words that had ripped the soul from Jungwon shortly after you’d been fired from your job as makeup artist. His manager had dug into Jungwon’s chest, grabbed and squeezed at his heart, and yanked it straight from his body.
His blood had gone cold. His heartbeat had gone flat. You were gone. He’d never see you again. There was no life left inside of him.
He realized it quickly how much he’d relied on you, how much of his strength had derived from the comfort of your presence. After you, he’d died completely. It took his members dragging him by the foot to get him out of bed in the morning, the manager nagging him about his health to get him to eat during the day, and an unhealthy amount of sleeping pills to get him to sleep peacefully in the night time.
He had to let you go– he couldn’t fight, you didn’t want him to. You’d pulled him aside the day everything went wrong, and told him to let it happen. That breaking up had always been a risk. That this was bound to happen someday. Tears filled your eyes, your smile didn’t radiate the way it always did, and you stood down against the company, the industry. You let them win, and because of that, Jungwon also let them win.
It was evil, the kind of villainy Jungwon watched in movies. It was one thing to observe relationship scandals from the outside, but to be caught up in one, one with such a horrid ending, it opened his eyes. He’d been robbed of what kept him alive, the force that had given him the motivation to perform, to love to perform.
He’d been stripped of his autonomy by the very people who were supposed to love him for who he was.
No, Jungwon didn’t believe in that anymore. They’d never loved him for him. It was the concept of Jungwon that they loved, the fantasy of him that inspired their bias. His fans weren’t his fans, it had never been real. They’d fallen for someone who didn’t exist, and forced their made-up persona onto him.
He didn’t know where to put his resentment. The members, who hadn’t stuck up for him, shook their heads at him for trying something so stupid. The staff, for forcing him to break up with the love of his life. You, who’d given up on your relationship the second it got messy.
Had anyone really been there for Jungwon at all? Was it all fake?
He felt like an idiot. He let people in, let them talk, and they turned their backs on him once it was time for him to speak. Was he not allowed to feel? Why was it that whenever the conversation surrounded him, it was no longer about making him feel better? It was about him learning from his mistakes, him not setting the right example for his members, him who should’ve known better.
Fuck that.
Jungwon didn’t want to work anymore. All of his desire to work had been sucked from him the minute he’d been separated from you. With his heart died his passion, his dream, his drive. He didn’t try the way he used to, he couldn’t find it in him to fake a smile during practice. He was too tired to give it his all at recordings. He was never present enough to speak at meetings.
There was an emptiness in his soul where you should’ve been, and with you gone, all that was left was an ache. An ache that left him completely alone, consumed by an agony nobody would ever be able to understand, because nobody would ever understand what it felt like to love you.
He spent his days doing whatever he was told– he didn’t call the shots anymore. ENHYPEN’s leader had devolved into nothing more than a background character– he was distant, unreliable, and irritable. Nobody could approach him anymore. Nobody wanted to approach him anymore.
Jungwon scared his members. They were afraid of him, his instability. They were worried about him, how he’d been taking the breakup. But more than anything, they’d been guilty. Guilty for not fighting for Jungwon’s happiness when they had the chance, guilty for being so untrustworthy that their brother hid an entire relationship from them. Maybe they’d gone too far, but Jungwon wouldn’t listen to their apologies. He didn’t want to.
He wanted nothing more than to hear the sweet tone of your voice again, but you were out of his life. A memory of his happiest days. A lesson that he’d never be truly happy as an idol, no matter how much he accomplished.
Jungwon hated himself for believing that there was a chance he could get away with it. Hated how naive he’d been letting himself fall for you. He’d been stupid, indulging in a drug he’d never meant to consume, and now it was destroying him from the inside.
Eventually, he’d stopped clocking in. His members had given up, his staff didn’t bother. He spent every day glued to his bed, every hour thinking about the day he lost you. Nobody tried to help him anymore, they were tired of him. He was being foolish, dragging out a situation he got himself into. A childish rebellion. Of course, they’d never know what it was like.
The nights were especially hard on him. He could always hear his members, the faint commotion of the television beyond his room’s walls, or the sound of chatter in the living room. It unsettled him how easily they could get over it all, how they could pretend it never happened. It disturbed him how easily they’d decided he was too far gone to save, that there was no point in trying to help him.
There was nobody there for Jungwon, and in the silence, all he wished for was you. The peace you brought in your embrace, the distraction you brought in your jokes, your conversation. He wished that you were beside him, telling him that everything would be alright and promising you’d always be there. He wished that you kept your promise.
He needed you. He needed you like he needed air, like fish needed water. You were his life, his salvation, everything that kept him going. His love for you didn’t feel good anymore– it hurt. The kind of pain that no broken bone or infection would ever compare to.
His body ached, the lack of daily movement leaving him completely stiff. His head throbbed, the long nights he spent crying leaving his brain pounding violently against his forehead. Pain was all he ever felt, and yet, at some point, he began to welcome it.
He got used to the torture, he waited for it.
It reminded him that he could still feel.
He’d starve himself and smile when he felt the angry rumble of his stomach. He’d sink to the bottom of his bathtub, and stay there until he gasped for air to remind himself that he was still breathing. He’d kill himself everyday just to remember that there was something left to kill.
Jungwon sat upright on his bed, phone open with pictures from his old album of you. Every secret outing, every mirror picture he took of the two of you at schedules, he scrolled through them lifelessly, ignoring the way his heart tightened with each picture.
A few swipes in, he’d reached a video, a video he’d already saved to his Favorites. It was the two of you on a bench in the middle of the night, far away from civilization and the spotlight. You were talking in it, something of no real importance, but you were so invested in the conversation, your eyes bright even in the dark of night as you spoke.
At the end, you noticed Jungwon’s phone filming you, giggling as you shook your head, “Jungwon, don’t film me!”
It was the first time he’d heard your voice in months. The first time he’d seen your face in what felt like forever. Suddenly, everything had come crashing back down on him, reliving the suffering as if it had been happening for the first time.
Tears welled in Jungwon’s eyes, immediately spilling down his cheeks as his phone fell from his hand. He sat there, sobbing into his knees, his arms wrapped around them. There was something different about tonight, about the way Jungwon hurt. Of course, he would have his lower moments, but this was hell compared to that.
He wanted to get up and run out of the dorm. He wanted to find you and tell you that he didn’t care about what his company wanted, that he was willing to put his dream on the line if it meant that he would get to spend the rest of his life with you.
It hurt more than ever, seeing you again. It reminded him once more of the inevitable– you and him would never be together again. Your love was over, despite whatever hope Jungwon had left in him.
He thought it was foolish of him to still hope that, even through all this, you and him would find your way back to each other. It was the most powerful, and the most harmful. Hope was a dangerous thing. Faith was useless when you were on your death bed, yet Jungwon kept it like a precious secret.
Jungwon didn’t believe in angels. He never believed in guidance from above, in guardians who watched over you. He wasn’t religious, he couldn’t care less about it. Whether or not there were deities who were controlling the universe was nothing he concerned himself with.
He’d never looked for help from anyone but you. Yet, Jungwon had now slipped off of his bed, kneeling beside it, and praying to whoever would listen.
His hands shook violently against his desperate efforts to keep them together. He could barely kneel, his body trembling so hard it was nearly impossible to remain upright. He cried out through his sobs, “Please, bring her back to me, please!” He’d forgotten about volume, he’d lost interest in who was listening, he had continued to pray.
He prayed like a man whose life depended on it. Prayed like the fate of the world relied on the response of whatever lived above the clouds.
He prayed so hard he fell over, his body giving out as he clenched his chest. He’d forgotten how to breathe, he was no longer in control. He felt everything and nothing at the same time, a stranger in his own body. Everything pulsed fiercely against him, pain rendering him completely immobile, writhing on the floor as he tried to catch his breath.
His ears rang a sound so loud it went silent, and the world around him broke apart into threes, spinning.
For a minute, he felt like he was dying. He thought this was it, that this was the climax, and after this would be nothing. Silence. Quiet. Peace. Part of him felt like he was ready for it, like he’d known death the moment you were taken from him.
But part of him kept the faith. That foolish, hopeful voice within told him that he could do it, that there was still time life for him. It told him that everything would be okay. That he didn’t have to be alone.
And the voice won. It would always win. So he fought it.
He fought the ache, fought his lungs, fought his body. He took every last bit of remaining strength left in him to cry out, the effort leaving him wheezing and lightheaded. But he did it. He was in control, even if just for a short moment.
“Jungwon!” Jay burst into the room, his face going pale at the sight of Jungwon. He quickly kneeled down to his level, helping him upright as Jungwon whimpered.
“Jay, I can’t– I– Jay–” Jungwon panted, his mouth wide open as a hand weakly held his chest.
“Jungwon, look at me, I’m here,” Jay’s hand sat on top of Jungwon’s, shaking as Jungwon looked up at him. Jay tried his best to keep a clear voice as he spoke, careful not to startle Jungwon further. “Jungwon, I need you to breathe. Can you try, please?”
Jungwon nodded lightly, his eyes screwed shut as he focused in on his breathing. He rebelled against his chest, against the heartache that had taken over him just to slow himself down. He wasn’t okay, he wouldn’t be okay for a while, but the voice was right, as foolish as it was.
Maybe it was fine to be foolish sometimes.
The last time he tried, he met the love of his life.
Maybe he didn’t have to do this alone. Maybe he could cry for help, and someone would listen. Maybe they’d help, maybe they’d fail miserably, but they’d be there, and they’d try for him.
He wasn’t sure how much help he’d allow himself to receive, the idea still foreign since you, but this was a start. Jay, in front of him, trying to calm him down, it was a start. His members really did have his back, after all.
So he tried just this once. He tried with everything he had to breathe, his tries weak, but there.
Jungwon didn’t believe in much anymore, but maybe he could learn how.
Maybe he could learn to trust again, to rely on others, to love again.
All he needed was faith, and now, though small, he’s got it. And that was enough.
These people are genuinely so crazy 😭 the poor girl is just doing her job, she’s in the trailer for WORK (even if she did date one of the member’s, what’s it to us?)
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“It’s worse?” Ni-ki asks, letting his bag fall to the floor carelessly as he makes his way over to you.
His hand comes up to your forehead; he doesn’t have to keep it there for long to confirm what you’re saying, you’re not warm—you’re burning.
“Maybe a-“ he begins, pulling his hand back less than a centimeter before you grab his wrist with both of your hands and pull it back towards you.
He forgets whatever he was about to say—too distracted by the way you place his palm against your cheek and lean into it.
“What’s this, hmm?” He asks, bringing his other hand up to cup the other side.
“Your hands are cold…” you say, sounding pleased.
“Feels good?” He asks, squishing your face a little between his palms.
You nod, scrunching your face a little at the subtle burn the differences in temperature between you and him cause.
“Have you thought about putting your heating pack in the freezer?” He asks, moving his hands lower so they’re both wrapped around and covering your neck as much as they can.
Which is a lot; but that’s not surprising when you think about how big his hands are.
“It worked like you said it would, but it doesn’t last very long…” you whine softly, pushing his right hand so it comes around your neck and down your back under your shirt.
This is fine and all, but his hands won’t be cold for much longer—you need a cold shower.
“I know what would help…” he says softly, slowly pulling his hands back to ease you out of it.
“I can’t keep taking showers,” you say, interrupting him before he can continue, “it’s a waste of water…”
“Well…” he sighs, finally pulling his hands off and tucking them under his arms to make them unavailable.
“Wearing long sleeves, pants, AND socks isn’t going to help.” He says, taking in your outfit.
“I’ll put the pack in the fridge for you again.” He ruffles your hair a little before he walks away, grabbing the heating pack off the bed as he passes by it.
₊‧⁺♱ ───
This interaction doesn’t file away in his mind because it was so random that he didn’t think it was important.
Not even when you fall asleep that night with your arms as far up under his shirt as you can manage them.
But he starts to think about it after he gets back home the next day and finds you worse off than the day before; and he knows it was bad, because you’re lying in bed in nothing but your shirt and underwear.
“I have to believe you’re not taking your medicine,” Ni-ki scolds gently, a measuring hand against your forehead.
“I am…”
Ni-ki pulls back despite your whines, digging through the nightstand beside you for the thermometer.
“We’re making a doctor’s appointment if it’s over 100…” he says, “ahh…”
You part your mouth a little, but he squishes your cheeks with his hand to open your mouth just a little more.
Once the stick rests under your tongue, he slowly sits beside you on the edge of the bed.
It takes a minute for it to take your temperature, and when it does, you whine a little at the loud indicator.
“99.3” Ni-ki reads out, too amused to lie about it and say it was at 100.
“I’m fine…” you assure, curling up into him.
Even through his jeans, he can feel how warm your face is.
“I’ll feel a lot better if you cuddle with me…” you add cheekily, eyes opening only then to look at him and try and guilt trip into doing it.
Ni-ki sighs, a small nod as he decides to give you this just until you eventually fall asleep again.
You’re naturally clingy, so it makes sense that you’d be the same way even when you’re sick.
But at least under normal circumstances, you’ll ask for it; unlike here where you either expect it or straight up initiate it without warning.
But it could be worse.
You could be denying him being able to lay in bed at night from the fever.
Then again, he has to sleep without a blanket at night because you’re strapped to him like a koala…
So maybe it’s up there…
Still, it only happens once he comes back home after being out doing what he has to do for almost 12 hours, so it’s still tolerable.
₊‧⁺♱ ───
You sit across from him, slouching a significant amount to reach where you want to.
Your feet start to mess with his shirt, and it draws him away from the tv.
“What are you doing…?” Ni-ki asks, watching for the most part.
“Nothing…” you mumble, biting your lip slightly in concentration.
You slip one of your feet under his shirt, and use it to pull it up and slide the other in.
His abdomen contracts a little against the feeling, then goosebumps form around where your feet press into his stomach.
“I love you, princess…but you’re really weird…” he sighs, his hand coming up to rub your leg nonetheless.
You frown a little, shifting in your place to wrap one of your legs over and the other under one of his.
It’s like you don’t even care that his own foot could touch your face if he extended it out a little.
You’d think you’d eventually explain it to him, but you fall asleep like this instead.
And eventually, your fever starts affecting him through the layers of clothes and with multiple parts of your bare skin against his.
Once he started feeling a little stuffy because of it, he tried to move so you wouldn’t wake up but he could get out of this position.
Except he couldn’t—you were holding on too tightly.
This is what it took to realize what you were doing; using him as some oversized cooling pad whenever you pleased.
If the conditions were any different, he wouldn’t mind.
But it’s already warm enough in the day.
He can’t deal with the additional heat of your fever that radiates off you like a portable heater.
This is the last time.
There needs to be boundaries.
₊‧⁺♱ ───
“Hey-“ Ni-ki says nervously, his phone forgotten at his side as he props himself up slightly on his elbows.
You don’t seem to care; settling between his legs as you wrap your arms around him and lay against his chest.
Only you aren’t just trying to cuddle normally.
You’re now stuffed under his shirt, pressing against his bare skin for the same reasons you’ve been all over him these last three days.
“Baby, you’re going to stretch my shirt out.” He says, trying to figure out how this could possibly be appealing to you.
“I’ll buy you a new one,” you say, voice muffled.
Then you inhale deeply, tickling him a little when you exhale against his abdomen, causing him to tense up for a moment.
“You smell good…” you add softly.
Okay…
Maybe just for a little…
You’re not so warm today anyway.
So he lays back again, hands on his sides to not suffocate you or make you feel too constrained.
And when it eventually starts to feel like he’s lying on a grill, being cooked on just this one side, he can’t help but bring it up.
“You’re a little warm…can you move?” He asks carefully, watching the blob that is you under his shirt.
A second later, you’re slowly coming out of his shirt, sitting back on your heels between his legs with a pout.
“Why are you being mean…” you ask, hair staticky and a little messed up.
“I’m not trying to be,” he promises, cupping your face with one hand, “but you’re really warm…like, really warm.”
You’d think he just said something meant as a personal attack against you.
In reality, all he said was he’d go get you your pack to cool off.
Yet when he leaves to go get it from the kitchen, and then returns not even a minute later, you’re no longer on the couch.
He finds you in bed, back turned towards the door and pointed at a small desk fan you’ve placed on your nightstand.
“Where do you want it?” He asks, tossing the pack between his hands to preserve its coolness.
You don’t say anything, you just hold your arm out behind you, asking for it without actually saying anything.
You won’t be upset for long, better to not get into it now.
“I’ll be watching tv still.” He says, walking away once you pull the pack towards you.
You huff behind him; clearly, you expected him to take it back and do what you want him to do.
₊‧⁺♱
Of course, he can’t actually stay away forever.
Eventually it’s late enough that it’s time for bed and he needs to go to sleep early.
This time, you’re lying in the middle of the bed, curled up on a pillow that has your pack under your cheek.
It’s probably thawed out by now, so that can’t be comfortable.
“Scoot over, princess…” he says softly, not wanting to bug you too much while he stays up to connect his phone to its charger.
You move more onto your side of the bed, watching him as he slides into his side.
He catches you, then sighs a little as the guilt starts to eat at him.
“C’mere…” he says, extending his arm out so you’ll come closer and use it as a pillow.
You’re quick to move, as if he’d change his mind and not let you.
A quick kiss to your forehead once you’re clinging to him, and he truly believes this will be the end of it.
Except it’s hard to fall asleep when you spend almost 10 minutes picking at his shirt and tracing lines into his side over it.
He tries to ignore it at first, but you bring it up as you start to move like you’re going to prop yourself up.
But you don’t say anything, you just stare at him, like he should know better.
“As much as I’d love to be able to, I can’t read your mind, baby” Ni-ki sighs, stretching his arm out as soon as you come up on your hands.
He’s past the ticklish buzz—his arm is gone—there’s no moving it until all the blood starts flowing back into it.
“Can you take your shirt off…it’s not helping…” you say softly, a small frown.
It should be impossible for anyone to reach the levels of internal temperature you’re at; yet as much as he feels for you, he physically cannot stand you right now.
“What if it’s you and all your clothes?” He asks, getting snarky before the feverish, helpless way you look at him finally gets to him.
He sighs again, this time sitting up to do what you asked him to.
Before his shirt even hits the ground, you’re coming up behind him.
You settle down behind him, wrap your arms around his neck from behind, and lay your head on his shoulder.
It’s going to take a while before it starts to bother him, especially since this is the first time you’ve thought to cool yourself off on his back.
“Mmm…baby…?” You call out, nuzzling into his shoulder a little.
“Yeah, baby?”
Now that he finds you endearing again, his hand comes up behind him to rest on your thigh, offering a cold hand there.
“Talk to me like you talked to me today again, and I’ll have all your things waiting for you outside the next time you’re at work.” You say it so casually; the same raspy, but soft voice your sore throat causes you.
“Y’know…since it’s such a hassle for you that I keep asking.” You add, a quick kiss on his shoulder blade.
Ni-ki purses his lips slightly, a small nod as he pats your thigh.
“I can’t wait for you to get better…” he mumbles, reaching for his phone with his other hand.
Instead, it’s smacked out of his hand by one of yours before the free hand is positioned on your other thigh.
SUMMARY: Desperate times call for desperate measures, and Jungwon is desperate to get your lips on his.
WARNINGS:f!reader, whipped!jungwon, hella kissing, crack, fluffy fluff, why is he such a lewser lmfao give that man a kiss pls! jay lowk a hypocrite but Whatevs
WC: 3.3k - MASTERLIST
A/N: this idea came to me in a dream and i just couldn't pass it up. i was gigglin n kicking my feet n shi while typing this no joke
---
Jay firmly believes that the people you choose to surround yourself with say everything about who you really are— it’s a conviction that sticks with him every time he meets someone new.
He’s spent his entire life crafting the perfect friend group, making sure each person in it was someone he could trust, that they wouldn’t be the type to do stupid things. But right now, smack dab in the middle of campus, he’s starting to think that he might have made a grave mistake, because what the hell else would explain him standing here, watching his best friend Yang Jungwon set up a kissing booth?
“You can’t be fucking serious.”
The younger boy doesn’t react to the older’s hostile tone. “Bro, just trust me on this,” he assures, shovelling through his backpack, “I’m cooking up a storm.”
Honestly, it’s quite the sight to see. A folding table dragged out from their shared apartment, covered in a (hopefully clean) bedsheet, and leaned against the front, a cardboard sign, propped up with two rolls of duct tape stacked on top of each other. Not to mention their empty jar of protein powder has finally been put to good use, now serving as the donation jar, decorated in hearts and everything. Are those fairy lights he sees draped across the top? What are they even plugged in to? Oh nah, he’s really going all out.
To complete it, Jungwon uses the sharpie he just fished from his bag to write KISS FOR A CAUSE in big bubble letters along the cardboard, looking proud of himself.
Jay can’t help but wonder what had gotten into his friend. Did Jake put him up to this? It seems like a Jake thing to do.
“What’s...,” his voice lifts as he begins asking, “what’s the point of this?”
“Are you blind?” Jungwon scoffs, gesturing to his creation. “It clearly says Kiss For A Cause.”
“Yeah, but what’s the cause? Is it a charity event?”
If he had gotten an answer within two seconds, he couldn’t have gotten suspicious; he swears. Jay isn’t the kind of person to automatically jump to conclusions. However, as the silence between them hangs for way longer than that, he can’t help but give in to his urge to pry.
“Does this have something to do with… she-who-shall-not-be-named?”
Sputtering, Jungwon’s arms start flailing around and a fiery red blooms up his neck, settling at the tips of his ears. “Pffft! What would make you think that?!”
“Who do you take me for?” He continues, clueless to the fact that he’s just digging a bigger hole for himself with each new word that comes out of his mouth. “A down bad loser?”
“Do you want me to answer that truthfully?”
“Screw you, man.”
“Hey!” Jay gasps, desperately holding back a laugh. “Look man, I’m not here to judge you—“
“Me when I lie,” mutters his friend.
“Okay— wait,” he tries again. “I understand the lengths that one must go to bag their crush, but this is…” he eyes the makeshift booth, “too much.”
Out of all of his friends, Jungwon is the last to come to mind when he thinks of pulling something like this. Despite being younger, he’s always had a more mature outlook on life, and usually, that maturity was reflected in his actions.
“Dude, you’re literally risking getting mono just to get a chance with—” The feeling of a warm, clammy hand covering his mouth cuts him off.
“Do not say her name.” Jungwon threatens in a hushed whisper as he pushes his hand against Jay’s mouth even harder. It smells faintly of sharpie and tape. Gross.
“Get your hand off mmmmph-!” Glancing from one side to the other, he relents, lowering his hand and shaking it off, disgust lacing his features.
“Ew,” he gags, repulsed. “Why is your breath so warm?”
Jay rolls his eyes. “Human biology, stupid. What about your sweaty ass hands, huh? I’m gonna get pimples because of you.”
“You already have pimples,” Jungwon huffs, moving to sit behind his makeshift booth, shooting a quick look at his watch, and making a shooing motion with his other hand. “Anyways, I’m going to be starting soon; you best be on your way.”
“But you didn’t deny it when I asked if it was about you-know-who.”
“Fine!” Jungwon bursts, abruptly standing on his feet. “And if it is? How else is she going to notice how kissable my lips are?
Jay was shocked before, dumbfounded even; now he’s just… stupefied, that Harry Potter ass spell, emotion thingy. He means this in the most bro way possible, but Jungwon does not need to be worrying about whether or not you’d think his lips are kissable. Practically every girl he knows would jump at the chance to lock lips with him, which is exactly why he cannot, for the life of him, wrap his head around this insane reach of an idea.
“Just tell her you like her, bro.”
“I've tried!" Jungwon throws his hands into the air, voice climbing an octave. "Notes, compliments, walking her to class... I've done all of it, and she just doesn't get the hint."
He pauses, gaze drifting off toward nothing in particular. "But maybe when our lips finally touch, she'll realize just how in love with me she really is." He sighs dreamily, his fingers drifting up on their own, tracing slowly along his bottom lip.
"That's insane,” the older boy comments, nose wrinkling. “Also, do you even understand how many other girls are gonna have to kiss you first before she even shows up?"
"I don't care." Jungwon shrugs, picking his sharpie back up and twirling it between his fingers. "I'll give them a peck, or I'll swerve at the last second and catch their cheek instead. Either way, my lips stay mostly reserved for her."
"Mostly reserved." Jay echoes, staring at him. "Do you hear yourself right now?"
"Loud and clear." He drops back into his seat. "Now stop hovering and go tell people it's a dollar a kiss."
–
DAY ONE:
Okay, so maybe Jungwon should have thought this through. Within twenty minutes of Jay leaving, all he’s received was weird looks and the campus security guard approaching him, all up on his ass about ‘not having a permit’. Since when did you need a permit to spread some love? Damn.
Second of all, why is no one donating? The sign says kiss for a cause. Is no one a good samaritan anymore?
After two hours, someone finally comes up to him. She introduces herself as a first-year, talking fast about how this is going to be her first kiss ever and how she can't believe it's happening at a random table on a random Tuesday. Jungwon should probably find that sweet, or endearing, but with the way she keeps staring at his mouth without blinking, he's getting the heebie jeebies. Still, a customer is a customer, so he plants his elbows on the table, puckers up, and leans in.
She kisses him for far too long and with way too much enthusiasm, her mouth covering more of his face than just his lips, until there's spit on his chin, his cheek, even near his nose. He pulls back the second it feels acceptable to, as in, after ten seconds, and forces a smile onto his face. He had no idea it was possible to be so slobbery in such a short period of time.
He can’t even use his sweater sleeve to wipe off the remnants of her germs and the wetness on his face because, as she’s walking away, the girl keeps turning around and staring at him. Most likely just gained his first stalker.
A girl a few feet away, who had clearly watched the whole thing happen, walks up next with an expression caught between amusement and pity. She drops a dollar in the jar, leans in and gives him the briefest peck imaginable, so brief that even after she's left, he keeps replaying it in his head, genuinely unsure if their lips even touched.
So, the first two customers were rough, but hey, it should only get better from here, he reassures himself. Once you’ve hit rock bottom, there’s nowhere else to go but up!
—
Well, whoever thought of that quote is a big fat liar. There is further than rock bottom, Jungwon thinks as he nurses a now bruised lip. Some emo goth chick must have decided that he would be her victim of the day, clamping her teeth down so hard on his lower lip that he yelped into her mouth and tasted copper. What’s worse, she didn’t even apologize! All she did after was swipe her thumb along the wound, smearing the blood. He’s also 99% sure he saw Sunghoon filming him from the corner of his eye while that was going down, too.
Talk about dehumanizing.
By hour four, Jungwon has stopped counting customers and started counting regrets instead. He drops his forehead flat onto the table beside the donation jar and stays there, refusing to lift his head even as people— potential customers— pass by. This was a mistake, plain and simple. He's probably going to end up on the university's social media accounts by tomorrow, and from then on everyone will know him as the lame kissing booth guy who only scraped together fifteen dollars.
Fifteen dollars isn't even enough to buy a decent Chipotle bowl with guac. Who eats Chipotle with no guac?!
And where the hell are you? Are you sick? He’s no stalker, but he does know that you take this path between classes. Suddenly, a horrific thought takes over his mind. What if you did pass by, but were so icked out that you ran away? Oh god, he groans. That’s definitely what happened. There go his chances with you.
Perhaps the gods were looking out for him though, because out of nowhere, he hears birds chirping. Then, as he lifts his head, he feels the warmth of the sun on his face and sees the clouds above him part right on cue. A cluster of flowers nearby, ones he's fairly certain weren't blooming five minutes ago, unfurl all at once.
What could— wait.
In all of his years on earth, Jungwon has never believed in the supernatural. But there, in all your glory, stands you, an angel.
Relief floods his entire nervous system, and before he can control himself, he jumps out of his seat, calling your name. At the sound of it, your head turns, and you make eye contact. Upon seeing him, your mouth stretches wide into a smile, one he thinks is absolutely gorgeous. Only, to his absolute horror, he watches as you take in his current predicament, and your expression goes from joy to confusion, to something he can only describe as WTF. "Jungwon?" You blink, taking a slow step closer. "Why are you doing a kissing booth?"
“Oh, you know,” he shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Just tryna do some good, help those in need. The whole shabang.”
“Thats…,” You trail off, eyes scanning him up and down as you try to find the right words. He really hopes you can’t see the sweat beginning to build up at his hairline. “...Cool.”
Chuckling, he nods along, shoving his hands into his pant pockets. “Yeah, nothing like doing my part, ya feel?”
“So how much money have you made so far?”
As much as he does not want you to know how many people he’s kissed— after all, he wouldn't want you to get jealous— he also can’t hide the state of his lips, swollen, puffy and also a little splotchy. “... Fifteen bucks.”
“Wow!” You exclaim, lifting your hands, “Not bad!”
Jungwon rubs the back of his neck, flustered, and mumbles something under his breath, too quiet to actually reach you.
"What was that?" You inch forward a bit. "Didn't catch it."
"I said." He clears his throat, rushing the words out. "Would you want to donate? To the cause, I mean."
"Oh!" Your face lights up immediately. "Sure!"
Setting your bag on the ground, you drop to your knees, searching through it for your wallet. His heart inflates at the action of you so eagerly wanting to offer him money just for a smooch. Also, why is the sight of you kneeling in front of him kinda… ahem.
He's about to say some corny line about how, for you, it’ll be free, when you stand back up and hand him a crisp twenty-dollar bill. If he was smitten for you before, then he’s absolutely gone for you now.
"You want twenty kisses?" He's already wiping his (still, and even more so now) sweaty hands on his pants. "I can absolutely make tha–"
"No, no, no!" Both your hands shoot up before he can finish, waving frantically. "I just want to make a difference!"
Like a balloon deflating, Jungwon’s heart sinks and shrinks down into a flat puddle of nothing. “Ah,” he swallows. “Got it."
His lips are pursed in a tight line as he folds the bill, slipping it into the donation jar. “Thank you for your help,” he says dully, monotone.
“No problem!” You give him one last soft smile and a small thumbs up. “Good luck!”
—
DAY TWO:
“So, did your plan work?”
“If it had worked, would I be doing this shit again?”
“I’ll take that as a no.”Jay snickers as he once again finds his friend setting up the kissing booth. Of course, he figured nothing happened based on the dejected way Jungwon returned to the apartment, but he didn’t expect him to try again.
“There has to be another way,” he says, crossing his arms.
Jungwon doesn't even look up from the sign he's re-taping to the table leg. "Such as?"
“Like I said yesterday, just be straight up with her.” The only response Jay gets is a fat middle finger.
—
His prediction was right. Jungwon landed on the campus Instagram page last night, and today, not only are there more people, there's an actual crowd surrounding him. He can spot most of his friends scattered through it, not in line, thank god, but just there for what he assumes passes as moral support. For extra precautions, but he even went to the security office and secured a permit, so now if he gets questioned again, he’ll have something to shove in their faces.
He rolls his shoulders back and steels himself, working his jaw side to side. This morning, in a moment of what he now recognizes as peak desperation, he'd sat on the edge of his bed and watched a ten-minute lip workout video on YouTube uploaded in 2011, following along with exercises to prepare himself for the onslaught ahead. He'd felt ridiculous doing it, and if Jay or Jake had walked in on him… it would have been more embarrassing than getting caught cranking one out.
“Alright, open for business!”
The moment the words leave his mouth, the line surges forward all at once, girls elbowing past each other to close the gap. "Ladies, ladies!" He throws both hands up, leaning back slightly as the table wobbles under the pressure of someone's hip bumping into it. "One at a time, please!"
This is going to be a long day.
It had gotten to a point where his friends, who had shown up purely to spectate, found themselves dragged into service as 'bodyguards', forming a loose human barrier with linked arms and a lot of pleading to keep the line from collapsing entirely.
Eventually, even that wasn't enough. Jungwon, red-faced and gasping between customers, finally called out for backup, and Jake stepped up first, volunteering to put his lips to good use. Riki followed not long after, then Sunoo, and even Sunghoon offered himself up to be pimped out.
An actual rotating schedule formed, fifteen minutes per person, and before he knew it, the measly fifteen dollars he had accumulated the day before ballooned to over five hundred, the crumpled bills and loose change spilling from out of the donation jar.
Even the kisses themselves had calmed down considerably too, most girls opting for quick, harmless pecks on the cheek. Every so often, someone would try to sneak in a little more tongue than expected, but by that point, all of them had simply accepted it as part of the job. Plus, Jungwon got good at making sure his mouth stayed as closed as possible throughout the whole ordeal.
Still, there was no you.
He didn't see you at all during the seven hours he manned the booth. You could very well have come by when he was on one of his breaks and kissed another one of the boys, but he’s too scared to ask them for confirmation. Rather, he silently takes down everything while Jake stands off to the side, currently talking to a few girls who stayed back, and Riki slumps on the chair, playing on his phone. Sunoo dipped when the event ended, citing needing to take some ginger turmeric shots to cleanse his mouth; although Jungwon’s pretty sure that’s not what they're made for.
Regardless, he’s exhausted. And as he puts the last of the booth in his enormous IKEA bag, he hears his name and turns to find you approaching, grinning. "I heard today was a huge success!"
"Yeah, it was." He swings the bag over his shoulder, glancing back to give his two friends a quick wave goodbye. "Want to walk back with me?"
"Totally. Here, lemme take this from you." You reach for the folded table, tucking it under one arm to alleviate how much weight he has to carry. Grateful, he whispers a thank you.
The two of you walk together in silence for a few moments before you speak up, "I'm honestly impressed.”
"Me too! The outcome today was unprecedented."
"Are you going to do it again tomorrow?"
"Uh,” he hesitates. "Honestly, I'm not sure yet."
"Well." You glance sideways at him, a small smile tugging at your mouth. "I'm sure you're feeling pretty gassed up right now, no? Did you see how many girls wanted to kiss you today?"
His grin falters just slightly, his gaze meeting yours. "Yeah, but the one girl I actually wanted to kiss me hasn't done it yet."
Unbeknownst to him, you stop walking the moment his eyes flit back forward, feet rooted to the pavement, and it actually takes him a few steps before he notices you're no longer beside him. Pivoting in his spot, he finds you standing there, eyes wide and staring.
"...Are you talking about me?"
"Yup." He replies confidently, popping the p. Your face goes warm, and you duck your head as you hurry to catch back up with him, falling into step beside him with a shy smile that remains for the rest of the walk. When you both make it outside his apartment, he lets the bag fall from his grasp, and you set the table down beside it, both of you straightening up at the same time to face each other.
"I only paid for twenty bucks worth of kisses,” you murmur.
He takes a step closer. "That," his voice is low, his breath fanning over your lips, "I can work with."
Then, he’s closing what little distance was left between you, kissing you slowly and deeply, his fingers curling into where your shirt falls on your hips. It's a long while before either of you finally pulls back, both gasping softly for air. He rests his forehead against yours, eyes still closed, chest rising and falling as he refills his lungs.
"One," he breathes out, and you don’t have any time to respond, because he dives back in for number two.
—
DAY THREE:
Technically, there is no day three. That is, not for Jungwon, at least.
He's otherwise occupied, having found himself one particularly loyal customer, so loyal that he's granted her a permanent discount on all future kisses, free of charge, indefinitely. Some might call that poor business, but he considers it the best deal he's ever made.
In his absence and after the events of the day before, the rest of the boys have arrived at the same realization: this is, in fact, an excellent gig, mostly on account of the money. So there they are, lined up behind the folding table, waiting for the last of them, Jay, to officially let the kissing commence.
---
a/n: i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!!
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