Must Be Love On The Brain

jisung is hopeless…ly in love with you … ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶

here’s part 1 but can also be read by itself!!

From a very young age, Jisung always knew he was a weirdo. When he was eleven, he picked at his skin until scabs formed, then picked those too… and, unfortunately, ate them (yes, I know, gross, but… everyone was doing weird stuff at that age, right?). He had no friends all throughout grade school and most of high school. The only reason he did have a friend was because of a tiny angel named Lee Minho and, by extension, Minho’s friends (although he’s pretty sure they only tolerated him because Minho did… but whatever).

Even now, years later, that feeling hasn’t really left.

He still feels like a creep sometimes, especially when he watches you. In your stupidly perfect cheer outfit, with sparkles in your eyes as you laugh with your friends. He tells himself he isn’t staring. He tells himself he’s normal. He tells himself to look away.

(He doesn’t.)

And later, when he’s alone, the moment replays in his head whether he wants it to or not. The way you smiled. The sound of your voice. The way his own heart wouldn’t shut up about it.

Yeah. Still a weirdo.

Which is why he’s completely confused when, during lab, you walk straight up to him and ask him to be your partner. Your eyes are big and shining, almost pleading, like a puppy, and your smile is so hopeful it knocks the air out of his lungs. He just… stares at you.

This has to be a joke, right?

There’s no way you want him as your partner.

Instinctively, he glances over at your friend group, expecting them to be barely holding in their laughter, like this whole thing is some elaborate prank. But they look just as confused as he is, if anything, a little hurt that you hadn’t asked one of them (he’s sure they would’ve waited on you hand and foot, honestly…).

Then he sneaks a look toward Minho and the others in the corner of the room. Minho’s eyes are wide too, shock written all over his face, but there’s also something else there—excitement maybe? as he subtly gestures for Jisung to say something. Do something.

He turns back to you, your hopeful gaze still locked on his, and he realizes he physically cannot get the word “no” out, even if he wanted to.

So instead, he just nods. Quickly. Almost desperately.

(I mean… who in their right mind would ever reject that offer?)

hannie just can’t handle his hot friend especially when she’s all over him 😵‍💫

You practically bounce in place when he finishes explaining the homework to you, eyes sparkling like you just watched fireworks go off.

“Oh my GOD, Jisung, you’re so freaking SMART!!!”

Jisung pushes his glasses up with one shaky finger, trying to look cool and absolutely failing.

“Y-Yeah, well, I— I k-knew that, uh, if you just—”

He doesn’t even get the sentence out because you launch at him.

Your bag hits the floor. Your arms wrap around his neck. And suddenly he’s holding an armful of glitter lip gloss and perfume and cheerleader energy as you squeeze him tight enough to knock the breath out of him.

“JISUNG!!!” you squeal, peppering his cheeks, jaw, even the corner of his mouth with kisses. “You’re so smart, oh my GOD, you’re like— a genius or whatever— I love you so much, Jisung, you saved my lifeeee.”

His brain bluescreens.

Like— actually bluescreens.

His hands hover in the air for a second before one lands on your waist and the other awkwardly pats your shoulder as if he’s never touched a girl before.

“U-uh— you’re— you’re welcome,” he manages, voice cracking, glasses crooked. “A-Anytime. I mean— um— yeah.”

You finally pull back, breathless and glowing, and he’s left standing there like he just got hit by Cupid’s entire archery set.

“Oh! I gotta go before Coach screams at me again,” you chirp, scooping up your bag. You kiss your fingers and press them dramatically to his cheek. “Bye, Sungieee! Love you!”

And then you’re gone, off in a cloud of fruity body spray and sparkly lip gloss.

Jisung is frozen.

Absolutely stunned.

One hand comes up slowly, like he’s moving underwater, to touch the exact spot you kissed.

His face goes crimson.

“L-love you…?” he repeats under his breath, voice tiny, dazed, like he’s trying to replay those five seconds in slow motion to figure out if they really happened.

His heart is doing the Macarena. His knees are weak. His backpack nearly slips off his shoulder.

You’re not even his girlfriend.

You’re not even CLOSE to being his girlfriend.

But for a second there, he swears he was living every nerdy teenage boy’s dream.

And now he has to go survive the rest of the day with the ghost of your lip gloss on his cheek and absolutely zero emotional stability left.

so sorry for being gone for long guys! i had some intense writers block 🫩 dats okay tho bc now i’m back, also also please make request it deff helps and i will make sure i post regularly

Oh no! Mark accidentally calls the love of his life dude! And now his baby is ignoring him ｡°(°¯᷄◠¯᷅°)°｡

Mark’s leaning over the back of the couch, upper body hanging down until his face is almost upside down above you. You’re curled up with your knees to your chest, scrolling through TikTok like he’s not even there, refusing to give him the satisfaction of eye contact.

He’s staring at you with those wide, pleading eyes, the kind that are way too hard to stay mad at.

“Babeeee,” he drags the word out dramatically, like he’s casting a fishing line and reeling you in, “you know I didn’t mean it.”

You don’t even glance up. “Nope.”

“C’mon,” he whines, leaning closer until his upside-down face is level with yours, peppering tiny kisses along your cheek.

You raise an eyebrow but keep your gaze locked on your phone, fighting the smile threatening to give you away. “You don’t call the love of your life ‘dude’ or ‘bro,’ Mark.”

He pulls back, mouth falling open like you’ve accused him of a crime. “I call everyone that!”

Finally, you turn your head just enough to give him a flat, unimpressed look. “Everyone? So I’m just… everyone now?”

“Stop thatttt,” he groans, pressing another kiss to your cheek before nuzzling into the side of your neck, covering your skin in warm little kisses. You roll your eyes, turning your face away to hide the stupidly giddy smile trying to break through.

But Mark’s relentless. He slides his hands along your jaw, gently tilting your face upward so you’re forced to look at him. From where he’s leaning over the couch, he gazes down at you with that boyish grin—half guilty, half smug.

“You’re not everyone,” he says softly, thumb brushing your cheek. “You’re my baby. My girl. My princess. My—”

“—dude?” you interrupt, lips twitching.

He groans again, dropping his forehead dramatically against yours. “Okay, fine. I’ll never say it again. Just don’t ice me out like this, I’m dying.”

You smirk, finally setting your phone aside. “We’ll see.”

Mark’s grin is immediate. “So… does that mean I can kiss you now without you rolling your eyes?”

You try to act unaffected, but he’s already leaning down, brushing his lips against yours in a quick, eager kiss before you can protest. And you can’t help but kiss him back.