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WHEREIN years of unspoken feelings culminate in you and your childhood best friend, park jongseong, waking up tangled together in a hotel bed after a night spent together that you have no recollection of.
(𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢). p.js x reader. wc: 3.3k. fluff. angst. best friends to lovers. jay yearns for reader. suggestive. making out. crying. drinking.
to be added to my taglist.
──── ୨୧ ──── #30 🪽
elle’s thoughts ❀ hi! this is the first piece for my “echoes of you” writing event! it was based off of prompt 2 :) thank you to the lovely @courire for requesting it as well as @moonshinekissesss for requesting and providing thoughts for the plot! i hope you both enjoy <3 also, there are still a few prompts available, so please go to the post if you’d like to claim one!
Park Jongseong, or Jay as you affectionately called him, had never looked better.
You caught his eye from across the art-deco restaurant as soon as you stepped through the mahogany door, but you took no notice of the opulent space surrounding you. All you could focus on was the man who had broken into a wide grin as soon as he saw you. He was dressed simply but in a way that accentuated his best features: a tan suit jacket, crisp matching slacks, and a white button up that was undone just enough to allow a glimpse of his defined collarbones and upper chest.
You couldn’t help but return the smile as you made your way over to where he stood by the bar, and you paid no heed to the patrons wining and dining around you. The only thing you could focus on was Jay, memories from your past together washing over you.
ᝰ.ᐟ read more
Being raised in the same neighborhood in Seattle, you and Jay had been the best of friends growing up. The pair of you did everything together, from chasing the ice cream truck down your street to sneaking to the beach to look for seashells that reminded you of each other. Even after his family had moved to Seoul when you were nine, you and Jay kept in touch effortlessly. It was a rare sort of friendship—one in which the distance between you never really became a barrier that threatened your closeness.
Now, a decade and a half had passed, and you had visited each other a few times over the years, but it became increasingly difficult to find the time after you both became busy with your careers. Finally, though, you found a break in your grueling work schedule to fly to South Korea to visit him.
The moment you reached him, Jay held out his arms, and you found that it was all too easy to fall into his embrace. He pulled you to his chest, and your eyes fluttered closed as you inhaled the familiar scent of him—something earthy and subtle. He smelled like home.
“It’s been too long,” Jay murmured against your hair. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you, too.” You pulled back slightly, lifting your eyes to take in the features that you so dearly loved. “Let’s never go that long without seeing each other again.”
A smile cracked across his face. “I agree. Maybe you should just quit your job and move here.”
You snorted with laughter before raising an eyebrow. “Why should I have to quit my job? How about you quit yours and move back to Seattle?”
Of course, a part of you knew how difficult that would be for both of you. Jay had built a career for himself as a clinical psychologist—a job he had dreamt of since he was an introspective child, gazing up at the clouds and discussing his thoughts on the workings of the human mind. You had tried your best to understand, but even then, you knew that his brain was hard-wired for psychology in a way yours wasn’t.
“I suppose we’ll just have to see which one of us is going to move at the end of the week.”
“Guess so.”
After Jay had pulled out a plush patterned barstool for you to sit on and the waiter had been informed of your favorite cocktail, the air between you was immediately filled by easy conversation. Details of your travel, updates on both of your families, and your recent stories from your ever-entertaining job as a children’s librarian. With Jay, no matter how long it had been since you had last talked, it always felt as if you had never been apart.
And, as you and Jay continued sitting at that bar, completely focused on each other’s presence, the drinks flowed almost as easily as the conversation. A small voice in the back of your mind warned you to slow down, to stop throwing back cocktails like your life depended on it, but you paid it no attention. You were with your best friend in the entire world celebrating your reunion after so many years apart. What could possibly go wrong?
For better or for worse, you couldn’t remember a single thing from the previous night.
You came to with a start, immediately noticing that your head was pounding, your tongue was rougher than sandpaper, and you had absolutely no idea where you were.
You cracked your burning eyes open slightly, taking in the sight in front of you. The first thing you noticed was that you were in an upscale hotel room. The French grey curtains had been drawn closed, but a slight gap where the two halves met in the middle allowed a sliver of golden sunlight to filter into the room. The warm glow of the morning sun caught and illuminated the dust floating lazily in the air, creating what looked to be a sheet of light that led your eyes directly to something that immediately chilled your blood. Your clothes from the previous night, folded carefully on a chair, a few inches from an empty bottle of whiskey and two used glasses.
When did you take your clothes off? Why? Had you been drinking? As you pondered these questions, a chilling realization struck you square in the chest. There was a pair of toned arms wrapped loosely around your torso and the unfamiliar cadence of someone snoring softly in your ear.
As you took in your current state of being, you felt an all too familiar panic crescendo through your body—as if someone had lit your nerves ablaze. You suddenly felt too hot and cold at the same time, and your breaths began to leave your cracked lips in ragged bursts. What the hell had you done? And with who?
The longer you stayed there, constricted by the arms of a stranger, your vision began to darken at the edges as your gut twisted violently. You quickly extricated yourself from the stranger’s arms before rolling out of the bed and stumbling to the bathroom. You barely reached the toilet before emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl, tears stinging your eyes.
“Y/n? Are you okay?”
That voice. You recognized that voice. How could you not after everything you had been through together?
“Jay?”
As more of your senses awakened, you became acutely aware that a figure was approaching the bathroom. You extended a clammy hand to flush the toilet before trying—and failing—to get back on your feet, your legs completely giving out on you. However, before you could hit the ground, a pair of strong arms wrapped around you and swept you off the ground. And there, as you raised your eyes to the person you had spent the night with, was Jay, his eyes flooded with concern.
“Let’s get you back to bed, yeah?” he murmured, being careful with where he placed his hands so as to not cross any of the boundaries you were certain had blurred the previous night. You nodded your head almost imperceptibly, and before you knew it, you had been laid back on the plush mattress with the utmost care.
“I’m sorry,” you sighed, your eyes burning as Jay slowly pulled the white duvet over your trembling frame.
“Why are you apologizing?” he responded, grabbing a spare pillow and gently placing it behind your head before reaching forward and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You did nothing wrong.”
“I just can’t remember anything from last night, and I… I honestly couldn’t remember who you were when I woke up.” You paused, still unable to meet Jay’s gaze. Another pang of nausea roiled in your stomach. “I’ve never been that drunk before. I’m so fucking embarrassed."
You pressed your eyes closed, ignoring the tears that welled up along your lashline. Jay had seen you cry hundreds of times throughout the years, so why did it suddenly feel so humiliating for him to see you this way?
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” his soft voice came. As he took in the sight of you—the wetness on your cheeks, the mess of hair atop your head, the dark purple circles extending under your eyes—you felt a dip in the mattress before he scooted toward you and pulled you into his arms. As horrified as you were to be seen this way, you allowed yourself to settle against his warm chest. You found comfort in the thought that if anyone had to see how much of a mess you were at the moment, you were glad it was Jay.
You allowed Jay to hold on to you for a moment as you worked on drying your tears. You listened to the even thump, thump of his heartbeat, allowing it to calm you down and remind you that Jay would never judge you for whatever you had done the previous night. However, the thought of not knowing what had happened between you kept weighing on your mind.
“Jay?”
“Hmm?”
“What happened last night?”
You heard Jay inhale deeply, and you could’ve sworn you felt his arms and chest tense around you.
“Jay? Was it bad?”
He shook his head slightly, rubbing his thumb over your upper arm as you watched him internally debate what he wanted to say and how. For as long as you had known Jay, you had never seen him at a loss for words, which only worried you more that something had happened between you.
“Were you drunk, too? Do you remember it?”
Another head shake. “I wasn’t drunk. Tipsy, but not drunk.”
“Not like me?”
Jay chuckled under his breath and looked down at you, the utmost affection accompanied by a sadness in his amber eyes. “No, not like you.”
You continued to look up at Jay expectantly before finally asking the question that had been weighing on your mind. “Last night, did we…?”
Jay’s cheeks reddened, and he immediately looked away from you. “No, we didn’t. I knew you wouldn’t want that.”
You lifted your eyes to the face of your best friend and took in the warmth there. The way he cared for you so tenderly without a second thought, the way he looked at you as if you had hung the moon and the stars…
“Then how… how did we end up here? I mean, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t wearing your clothes at the restaurant last night, and this doesn’t look like my hotel room.”
Yet again, Jay avoided your eyes. As if he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. “Y/n, you were drunker than I’ve ever seen you. At some point, you tried to stand up to go to the bathroom, but you ended up falling over after, like, three steps. You hadn’t told me where you were staying when you were sober, and you definitely had no clue where you were staying after seven drinks, so I made the decision that I couldn’t just leave you there. I went to the lobby, got a room, and took you upstairs.”
“And when did you take my clothes off, you perv?” You hoped he could pick up on the joking tone in your voice, but from the clench of his jaw and the way he pursed his lips together, you could tell something was wrong. “I’m just kidding. I trust you more than anyone, you know. But seriously, what happened after we got up here?”
Jay huffed a humorless laugh. “Thanks.” He then looked down again, still not meeting your gaze. “You had nothing to change into, so I helped you get out of your dress and put you in a spare pair of shorts and a t-shirt I had packed. I tried to brush your teeth, but that didn’t go very well.”
“And then what?”
“And then nothing. You fell asleep as soon as I helped you get into bed.”
“That’s it?”
“Pretty much.”
“Then why are you acting like a puppy who got kicked?”
Jay’s wide eyes finally turned to yours. “What?”
“You’re not telling me everything. I know you better than anyone, and I know when something is wrong. The way you’re acting right now isn’t you. Something else obviously happened, and I don’t know why you won’t tell me. You’ve always told me everything.”
Jay lifted a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes briefly before running his fingers through his hair. “Nothing, it was stupid. I just let myself get upset by some stuff you said when you were drunk, but that’s not your fault. I shouldn’t even bring it up because it really doesn’t matter.”
Your heart sank.
That had been your worst fear. When you drank, it often loosened your tongue, but you could usually remember what you said so that you could apologize for it as soon as possible. However, if you had said something to Jay that hurt him and didn’t remember it, how the hell were you going to apologize enough to make him forgive you?
“Oh God,” you stammered, searching Jay’s face for any indication of where you had misstepped. “I’m so sorry. Can you please tell me?”
Jay shook his head slightly, his gaze fixed on the duvet. “It doesn’t matter. I just need to get over it and move on.”
“Jay, tell me. Please.” You felt tears sting your eyes again, an overwhelming wave of guilt crashing over you. “The thought that I said something that hurt you is killing me.”
“It was just… some stuff about an ex. That’s all. I’m just being sensitive. Really, you shouldn’t worry about it. It’s not your fault.”
Oh.
Your ex.
“I talked about Heeseung last night?”
A muscle in his sharp jaw flicked. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”
“Jay, I swear to God. I need you to tell me what I said or I will be beating myself up for this until the day I die.”
At the sudden firmness in your voice, Jay finally turned his eyes to you, and you could’ve sworn they were slightly more damp than they had been a moment ago.
“You were talking about how badly he hurt you. About how he left you on some random Tuesday, gave you no explanation, and left you to pick up the pieces of your life on your own. You were so upset, and I knew nothing about it until last night. All night, I kept wondering why you never told me that you were dating someone or that you went through a breakup like that. I’m your best friend, and I’m supposed to be the one who’s there for you when the shit hits the fan, but you didn’t let me do that for you.”
You were now certain that Jay’s eyes were wet. You opened your mouth to speak, but something in you told you to stop and listen.
“And God, on top of that, I couldn’t stop thinking about how I would never treat you that way. About how he’s so fucking stupid for letting go of you when you’re the best thing that’ll ever happen to him. About how—” he choked on his words, his face scrunching as if he were in pain as the tears finally spilled onto his cheeks. “About how you’re all I’ve ever wanted, but I’ve never been able to have you because I’m so scared of ruining things between us. I drank half a bottle of whiskey last night because it was the only way I could forget how much this all fucking hurts.”
Jay pressed his eyes closed and bowed his head so that it was resting on your shoulder. He was trembling, his arms still wrapped tightly around you as if you would disappear the second he let you go. At that moment, you caught sight of the empty bottle of whiskey again, and you felt a pang in your heart that made you feel sick. You knew he only drank heavily when he was trying to forget. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t connected the dots sooner.
Slowly, you raised a hand and gently cupped Jay’s cheek. With your thumb, you wiped away the tears staining his cool skin. “Look at me.”
His only response was a shaky breath as he gripped you tighter still.
“Jay, please.”
After a long moment, Jay finally lifted his eyes to yours. They were swollen, rimmed with red, and swimming with the ghost of all his fears that he had spilled from the depths of his soul.
“It’s taken me a long time to realize this, but if I’ve learned anything in the last few months, it’s that it’s always been you. You’ve seen the men I’ve dated, and while most of them were great guys, they all had one problem that I couldn’t look past: they weren’t you. Living far away from you all these years has been horrible, but I knew it was all worth it as long as I could keep you in my life. And I’m so tired of acting like I don’t feel this way, or like I didn’t feel like I was gonna throw up from the excitement of being able to see you last night.”
At last, a wide grin broke across Jay’s face as a loud sob forced its way from his throat, and he tenderly placed a hand on the back of your neck as he gazed at you. “Do you really feel that way? You’re not fucking with me because you feel bad?”
You laughed too, ignoring the tears now streaming down your own face. “That would be the worst joke ever, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, it really would.”
“I mean it. Every single word of it, and more. You’re all I want now and forever. Hell, you were all I wanted as a kid, but I didn’t know what to do with those feelings, so I ignored them.”
“Very introspective of you considering how much you hate self-reflection.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
At these words, your lips crashed against Jay’s, and it finally felt as if the missing puzzle piece of your life had been placed. He immediately kissed you back with a fervor you had never experienced, his lips soft yet insistent. One hand tangled in your tousled hair as the other found its way to the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him.
“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Jay murmured against your lips. “You’re everything to me.”
When Jay pulled back a bit later to catch his breath, you shifted your weight so that you were straddling his hips. He looked confused for a moment, but when he realized what you were doing, he gave you a hungry look before pulling you back towards him.
“What’s this?”
“What’s what?”
“You’re… on top of me.”
“Oh, you don’t like it? I can get off then.”
You began to shift your weight off of him, but Jay quickly wrapped his arms around your torso and rooted you to the spot. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled.
You gave Jay a coy smile before leaning in and brushing your lips against his ear. “I adore you, you know that?”
Jay shuddered under your featherlight touch, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “I adore you more.”
“No way!”
“Yes way.”
And as you dove back in for more, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that you and Jay would be debating who loved who more for years to come. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
ISABELLA'S RADIO STATION ❪ BROOKLYN BABY – LANA DEL RAY ❫
The heavy bass pounds so hard against the sticky floorboards of the venue that you can feel it vibrating right in your teeth. It’s loud and the kind of place you usually avoid, but tonight you don’t give a damn.
Because up on that dimly lit stage is Jay.
He’s a vision of shattered perfection. His hair is sweaty as he leans to speak into the microphone. He’s wearing that oversized vintage leather jacket you absolutely love— the one which makes his shoulders look impossibly broad, draped perfectly over a faded graphic tee that rides up just a sliver when he reaches for the mic.
He strums a chord, but his eyes? They’re glued entirely to you. Like you’re the only breathing person in this entire dive bar. Like you’re the oxygen in the room.
It’s completely unfair. It’s exactly the kind of obsessive stare that settles in your gut and spreads like liquid fire through your veins, ending in a faint, traitorous flush on your cheeks. You look away first, opting to stare at your plastic cup of water, though you’d rather die than admit he still gives you butterflies after an entire year of dating.
When the set finally ends, the crowd thins out into a disorganized mess. You weave through the sweaty bodies towards the back of the room to wait by the green room door.
That’s when you feel it. A clammy hand wrapping around your waist. Too tight. Too presumptuous.
“Hey sweetheart, you look a little lost,” a voice slurs near your ear, smelling sickeningly of tequila.
You stiffen, instantly pushing at the guy’s chest to create space. “I’m waiting for my boyfriend. Back off.”
“Oh, come on. He’s not here right now, is he?” The guy steps closer, his fingers digging uncomfortably into your hip. You open your mouth to yell, but suddenly the comforting scent of sandalwood wraps around you —a scent that is quintessentially Jay.
Before the creep can even blink, a hand clad in chunky silver rings clamps down on his shoulder and rips him backwards with a violent force.
“She said she’s waiting for her boyfriend,” Jay snarls, his voice dropping into a register so dark and threatening it sends a shiver straight down your spine.
The drunk guy stumbles, gets his footing, and wildly swings a fist. Jay doesn’t even flinch. He sidesteps the sloppy punch and drives his own fist directly into the guy’s jaw. A loud crack echoes under the fading house music, and the guy crumples to the sticky floor, groaning.
Jay takes half a step forward to finish the job, his chest heaving, dark eyes completely feral, but you grab the back of his leather jacket. “Jay. Stop. Let’s just go.”
He freezes instantly at your touch. The raging edge melts out of his posture as he turns around, wrapping a protective arm around your shoulders and practically carrying you out the back exit.
You are going to lose your mind.
The fluorescent lights of Jay’s tiny bathroom are way too bright (you keep telling him to change those, and he keeps forgetting) . You are sitting on the edge of the porcelain sink, the first-aid kit open on your lap, sighing at the choices made by your entirely too impulsive rockstar boyfriend.
Stupid, stupid Jay. He should have just yelled at the guy. Gotten a bouncer. Done literally anything other than throwing a bare-knuckle punch at a skull. If you had been faster, you would have pulled him aside and berated him for his poor life choices. But instead, you are here, swiping a cotton pad soaked in rubbing alcohol over his bleeding knuckles.
Jay hisses, stepping closer so he’s trapped perfectly between your knees.
“Hold still,” you scold, your eyes tracing the damage. These are his hands. The long fingers. The calloused fingertips. You’ve felt them trailing down your spine a thousand times, and the thought of them getting crushed against some idiot's jaw makes you want to scream. “You play guitar, Jay. Your hands are your livelihood. What if you broke a finger? How are you supposed to play?”
Jay rests his good hand lightly on your thigh, his thumb brushing back and forth in a soothing rhythm that makes your heart stutter. “Don’t care.”
“You’re a musician.”
“I’m your boyfriend first,” he says, his voice entirely too serious.
You look down at his hands, imagining how it would feel to just ban him from ever leaving the apartment so he can’t get hurt. Just keeping him here, cuddling with him after a long day, his face buried in the crook of your neck while you play with the messy ends of his hair.
He shifts closer, resting his chin right against your stomach and looking up at you through his messy hair. “Did he hurt you?”
“No. You got to him before he could.”
Jay hums, a low vibration against your stomach. “Good. If he had actually hurt you, I would have broken my other hand on his face.”
“Stop saying that,” you mutter, wrapping a white bandage carefully around his knuckles, securing it tightly but gently. You smooth your thumbs over the back of his hand.
Jay watches your face the entire time. He doesn’t wince — not even when the alcohol bites into his wound or the bandages pull tight. His eyes are soft, almost unbearably so, practically dripping with an adoration that makes you feel a little weak in the knees. He lifts his uninjured hand to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.
“You were so brave tonight, baby,” he murmurs, leaning up just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth.
“I didn’t do anything,” you whisper, your hands dropping to rest on his shoulders.
“You handled it. You pushed him away. Good girl.”
The praise melts every single ounce of annoyance right out of your system. It’s entirely unfair how easily he disarms you. You trace his annoying face, every single inch of it captivating, from the sharp slope of his jaw to the stupidly long eyelashes to the stupidly plush lips that are currently smiling against your skin.
“You’re ridiculous,” you say, letting him pull you down off the counter and into his chest.
“I’m obsessed with you,” he corrects easily, burying his face in your hair, breathing you in like he’s been drowning all night. “And next time, I’ll just hit him with the bass guitar. Protect the hands.”
You groan, hitting his chest lightly. “I will actually kill you.”
“I love you too,” he laughs, the sound vibrating against your ribs. And not for the last time, you think that as stressful as he is, you wouldn't trade him for the world.
isa: this one's for @courire bc she gets it 🤝we NEED more rockstar!jay who's down bad for his girl ^_^ rockstar jay enjoyers rise ^^ :b
Inspired by pooks @luvyeni … this was so easy for me to write for some reason. 1.1k words, FLUFF, pet names and a couple smooches, fem!reader, mentions of an older sister in won’s part
Heeseung
He might be more excited about it than you were
Actually crazy because the other girls were shoving each other and jumping and it just happened to fall into your hands 😇
You look at the bundle of flowers in shock while all the guys at your table start nudging and elbowing your boyfriend
“You know what that means~”
When you come back over to the table you still look vaguely surprised, but you just set the bouquet down and go to take your seat like nothing happened
Meanwhile hee has spent the last five minutes planning your wedding
He pulls you into his lap before you can even sit in your own seat and whispers in your ear
“So we’re getting married huh?”
Now you’re both blushing messes 🤭
Jay
Bro has been ready to marry you since about the day you met
He’s the one that tells you to go with the other girls when they announce the bouquet toss in the first place
So when you actually catch it he just lights up
The proudest, most lovesick smile on his face
While the other girls fawn over you he turns to the guys at his table
“Guess who’s getting married!!”
The boys jump up and down with him and shout
“Do you even have a ring?”
They all shush sunghoon bc that doesn’t even matter 🙄
You’re flushed when you make your way back to him, fresh off of being mercilessly teased by your own friends
“So what size ring do you wear?”
“WHAT?”
Jake
He hypes you up before the toss, rubbing your shoulders like you’re a boxer about to go in the ring and not a bridesmaid trying to catch a bouquet
“Go get them baby!” He yells as you walk over, placing a light tap on your bottom while you roll your eyes and try to pretend you don’t know him
But he really really wants you to catch the flowers, so who are you to disappoint your man 🤨
Some girl almost knocks you down, but you catch those flowers !!
You can’t even bask in your success because Jake is running to the dance floor to pick you up and spin you around 🥹
“The wedding gods have spoken! You have to marry me!!”
You’re laughing like a maniac because he’s still spinning you and he’s so happy
“In what world would I ever say no?”
Hoon
He’s lost it
Like they called all the girls up to the floor for the toss and he was so confused when you winked at him before running up 😭
He asks Jake what you’re even doing before being told that whoever catches the bouquet is the person to get married next
His eyes get so wide as he watches the giant group of girls wrestle for the bundle of flowers
“They take this seriously huh?”
The boys let out actual cackles when the crowd disperses and you’re standing there with the flowers in your hand 😇
“Wait so that means-?”
He gets nothing but nudges and teases in response
“Hoon I caught it!!” You yell excitedly when you rejoin him at the table
His ears are pink, but he sends you the prettiest smile
He slides one of his rings off and slips it gently onto your hand
“Good job baby.”
Sunoo
“You have to catch that bouquet!!” He tells you excitedly. “It’s fate ok! Catch it!!”
You laugh as you join the other bridesmaids on the dance floor where the bride is
It’s silly, you know you’re gonna marry him anyway, but if he tells you to catch the bouquet then you’re gonna catch that bouquet 🙂↕️
Sorry to the girl you accidentally elbowed… this ain’t about her
The first thing you do when you catch it is turn to look at your boyfriend
While normally the guys look slightly embarrassed or shy, your boyfriend is jumping up and down and cheering
“That’s my girl!! Look she caught the bouquet!! We’re gonna get married!!”
You laugh at his reaction and run over to join him
“We’re gonna get married!” You join in with him
He takes the bouquet from you and kisses your lips
“Dang right we are.”
Jungwon
“You’re gonna go?” He asks when you stand up to participate in the bouquet toss
His ears are already red, and you let out a soft laugh
“Won there’s like fifty girls, I’m not gonna catch it. It’s just tradition!”
It’s your sisters wedding and she’d actually murder you if you didn’t participate, which Jungwon realizes is a valid point
“Ok, well have fun! Don’t get knocked out!”
You roll your eyes and stand on the outside of the crowd, not that interested in catching it
You swear your sister does it on purpose because explain how the bouquet is flying straight at you, completely away from every other girl on the dance floor 🤨
You barely have time to grasp it before she’s running over to you
“Oh it’s fate!! You’re next little sis!!”
You hug her with the flowers and turn to find your boyfriend, expecting him to be hiding his face or not paying attention
Instead he’s got the biggest smile on his face, deep dimples poking into his red cheeks while the other guys wolf whistle
He walks up to you and gives you a kiss
“I guess we can’t argue with fate.”
Riki
He’s laughing at you
“I hope that mean bridesmaid trips you when you try to catch it.”
“Shut up!” You smack his arm before walking away, sticking your tongue out when the mean bridesmaid he mentioned walks straight past you and to the front of the group
You didn’t care that much about catching the bouquet, you just wanted to annoy your boyfriend 😁
So when it actually lands right in your hands (knocked off its original course by the mean bridesmaid who hit it so hard it almost hit you in the face) you are SHOCKED
People immediately start cheering, and you don’t even have to look to know it’s coming from the table your boyfriend is still standing at
When you finally spare a glance to him, he’s gone entirely red and is being jostled by the rest of the guys at your table
You set the bouquet down nonchalantly on your table, pressing a kiss to his cheek before whispering “I wear a size 6 ring baby.” And then running to the bathroom to touch up your makeup
He will never recover (and is secretly making a Pinterest board of every size 6 ring he finds)
Sypnosis: after a long day of work, Jay comes back home and needed recharge from you ( which he smothers uou in kisses)
Warnings: flufffff, lots of kissinggg
Playlist🎧: I wanna be yours- arctic monkeys
K- cigarettes after sex
Sweet- cigarettes after sex
📍a/n: thought I’d make KISS KISS KISS fic for every memberrrr, this is Jay version, hope you enjoy ittttttt
Heeseung ver | Jay ver | Jake ver | Sunghoon ver | sunoo ver | jungwon ver | Ni-ki ver |
The front door clicked shut, followed by the heavy thud of Jay’s gym bag hitting the floor. You looked up from your laptop just in time to see him trudge into the living room, shoulders slumped and his usual sharp posture completely melted by a twelve-hour shift.
"Rough day?" you asked softly.
Jay didn’t answer with words. Instead, he walked straight over to the couch, collapsed face-first into your lap, and let out a long, dramatic groan into your sweatpants.
You laughed, threading your fingers through his dark hair, gently massaging his scalp.
"That bad, huh?"
He shifted, turning his head so he could look up at you. His sharp jawline and dark eyes usually gave him a intimidatingly cool resting face, but right now, looking up at you from below, he just looked like a needy puppy.
"My brain is completely fried," he mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion. "I need a recharge."
"Okay. Do you want me to make you some tea, or—"
Before you could finish the sentence, Jay hooked his arms around your waist and straighten himself up. In one fluid, surprisingly strong motion, he hovered above you until you were lying flat on your back against the sofa cushions, with him hovering directly over you.
"Jay, wait, my laptop—"
He deftly grabbed the computer from the edge of the couch and set it on the coffee table without looking, never breaking eye contact with you. "The laptop can wait. I said I need a recharge."
"And how exactly do you plan to—"
He didn’t let you finish. He dropped his head down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, and pressed a warm, lingering kiss right against your collar. A shiver ran down your spine, but before you could melt into it, the romantic vibe completely shifted.
Jay started working his way up your jawline, delivering a barrage of loud, rapid-fire kisses.
Mwah. Mwah. Mwah.
"Jay! Ah, stop, that tickles!" you shrieked,
trying to squirm out from under him. But despite his exhaustion, he was a solid wall of muscle, easily trapping you beneath him while keeping his weight off you.
"No stopping," he muttered against your skin, a muffled grin pressing into your cheek.
He moved to your face, sprinkling your left cheek with kisses, then your right, intentionally making them as loud and dramatic as possible. You were laughing so hard your stomach ached, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders to try and push him away, but you were entirely powerless against his muscular body.
He kissed the tip of your nose. He kissed your forehead. He even kissed your chin until you had to tuck it into your chest to hide.
"You're ridiculous," you gasped, breathless and giggling, your face completely flushed.
Jay finally paused, propping himself up on his elbows. The tired shadow that had been over his eyes when he walked through the door was entirely gone, replaced by a bright, affectionate glow. He loved this—loved knowing he could completely unravel your composure just by being a menace with his affection.
"I feel much better now," he stated matter-of-factly, a smug, satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
"Oh, really? Glad my suffering could cure your fatigue," you chuckled.
Jay’s expression softened, the playful smirk melting into something incredibly tender. He reached down, his thumb gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from your forehead, his eyes dropping to your lips.
"Thank you," he whispered softly.
He leaned down one last time, but there was no teasing this time. He pressed a slow, deep, incredibly sweet kiss to your lips—the kind that made the rest of the world completely fade away.
When he pulled back, he didn't move away. He just sighed contentedly, burying his face right back into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping tightly around you. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, completely asleep, leaving you pinned under the sweetest, most affectionate human radiator alive.
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“you learned how to do braids for me, didn’t you?”
jay’s fingers pause in your hair, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe.
your voice is light, teasing, but he feels it like a punch to the gut. you’re sitting between his legs on your bed, his fingers gently working through the strands of your hair, and your question knocks the balance right out of him.
he clears his throat, trying to sound casual. “what? no. obviously not.”
you raise a brow, but keep your eyes forward. “really?”
“yeah,” he says quickly, too quickly. “i learned it for… for my niece.”
you turn slightly, just enough to shoot him a playful look. “your niece who lives overseas?”
jay blinks. “yeah. we… we facetime.”
“you braid her hair over facetime?” you ask, stifling a laugh.
he wants to die. “look, it’s called remote support,” he mutters.
you giggle, leaning back slightly so your shoulder brushes his knee. he thinks he might pass out.
“can you hand me the hair tie?” jay asks in a lower, sweeter tone, praying his voice wouldn’t actually betray the blush on his face.
“i already gave you one,” you reply, a little confused. did he lose your hair tie?
jay doesn’t tell you the truth—that he spent hours watching tutorials at 2am just to figure out the perfect method. that he practiced on a pillow. that he kept the hair tie you left in his car one night and never gave it back. that he wears it on his wrist like a silent confession.
“oh,” jay murmurs, staring at the hair tie on his wrist like it just betrayed him, “c-can i get another one?”
jay screams and begs internally, he doesn’t want to let go of the one on his wrist.
“sure,” you chirp after a pause, glancing at your hair tie already wrapped around his wrist, “here.”
he finishes the braid in silence, fingers trembling only slightly as he loops the elastic you just handed him. not the one on his wrist. he can’t let go of that one.
“done,” he says quietly, voice low and careful. “do you like it?”
you turn to look at him fully, and the moment you meet his eyes, his breath catches.
“it’s cute,” you say, lifting your fingers to touch the end of the braid. “a little messy. but i like it.”
he smiles, but it’s tight. strained. like he’s holding something back.
you tilt your head. “still for your niece?”
jay hesitates.
you don’t look away. you’re waiting for him.
“no,” he says, finally. it’s soft, but honest. “not for her.”
your lips part. surprise flickers across your face, but you don’t pull away. you don’t move at all. you just wait.
so he breathes in, then out. and tells the truth.
“i learned it for you,” he says. “because you always forget your hair ties. because the ends of your braids are never even. because i wanted to help. because i wanted to be the one who noticed.”
you don’t respond immediately. just stare at him like he’s something delicate and golden, like he just dropped his heart in your hands and you’re afraid to squeeze too hard.
“i like when you notice,” you whisper.
he leans in.
it happens fast, but it doesn’t feel rushed. it feels inevitable. his hand finds your cheek, thumb brushing the soft skin beneath your eye, and then his lips are on yours.
your breath hitches in your throat, but you kiss him back without hesitation. it’s soft at first—slow, searching, a quiet question.
then your hand fists in the fabric of his sleeve and he deepens the kiss with a quiet sound in the back of his throat, like he’s been holding this in for too long. your mouths move together in perfect, breathless sync, like you’ve both waited forever.
you gasp when he nips lightly at your bottom lip, and he immediately soothes the sting with a gentle kiss, his hand sliding to the back of your neck. your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just enough to make him exhale sharply against your lips.
when you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, flushed.
“that wasn’t bad,” you whisper, eyes half-lidded.
jay raises a brow, lips pink. “not bad?”
you hum. “for someone who braids with trembling hands.”
he lets out a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. “you think that was good?” he murmurs. “i’m better with practice.”
you smirk, leaning forward so your noses bump. “then prove it.”
his smile disappears into another kiss—this one deeper, hungrier. he shifts, slowly guiding you down to the bed, your back hitting the mattress as his weight presses into you, careful and warm. his hand cups your cheek again, the other braced beside your head.
you whimper softly when his lips drag down to the corner of your mouth, then along your jaw. his nose nudges the sensitive spot beneath your ear, and your breath hitches when he plants the softest kiss there.
“you’re seriously dangerous,” you mumble, breathless.
“you started it,” he whispers back, smiling against your skin.
your hands find his shoulders, your fingers pressing into the firm muscle beneath his shirt. he kisses you again, slower this time, more drawn out—like he’s savoring you, memorizing the taste, the feel.
when he finally pulls back, just enough to see your face, his eyes are darker than before. “you okay?”
you nod, lips parted. “yeah. just… wondering why you waited so long.”
he shrugs, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip. “i was too busy learning how to braid.”
you giggle, the sound muffled when he kisses you again—gentle but insistent.
“you’re lucky you’re cute,” you say between kisses.
jay grins. “you’re lucky i’m hopelessly in love with you.”
you blink.
he freezes.
but then you smile—slow, soft, radiant. “hopelessly?”
“completely,” he says. “terminal case.”
you pull him back down, kissing him again, arms wrapping around his neck. “good.”
jay kisses you like it’s all he knows. like he was made for it. and as he curls up beside you, your legs tangled together, he glances down at the black hair tie on his wrist.
he’s never taking it off.
not now.
not ever.
스루 ܃ for my goat @boyfhee ! happiest birthday, caelcium >< i love you smsmsm, i hope you like this one hehe 💗
SYNOPSIS! love is a crazy thing, and you’d always been absorbed in the idea of it, 100% committed as your school’s cupid but cupid deserves love too, right?
GENRE! strangers to lovers, basketballer!jay (there’s barely any basketball in this), mutual pining, simp!jay, high school au
WARNINGS! some sexual innuendos, drinking, partying, mentions of cheating and abortion
WORD COUNT! 9OOO+
MIKAELA’S! inspired by some book i read i think… this is from my old blog eumpapas, i’m not copying anyone please… also happy mega birthday to the man who made me start watching iland🙏🏻 DNA jay this one is for you.
BEING cupid isn’t easy, and it’s definitely not a task for the weak. Carrying around a heavy basket of heart shaped tipped arrows and a bow slung behind you as you matchmake, aim, and shoot, injecting pink that knits into a person’s bones.
Many people applaud you — for so intelligently pairing up matches together. But what they don’t realise is the immense effort it takes. Cupid may be an icon of love, but you barely have one of your own. And you wish, that there is another cupid out there aiming their love tipped arrow at you.
i. ugh, men
The piece of paper in your hands rubs against your palms as you take yet another glance at the capitalised name written in neon pink before looking back up at the blond hair boy in front of you.
“Jay? I mean- not discriminating or anything but you want me to link you up with Park Jongseong?” You furrow your brows, looking at Jake with pure curiosity.
His eyes widen as he realises what this might have seemed like. “No, no,” he furiously shakes his head, “he’s my bro, what are you even talking about.”
You tilt your head as you scan the nervous footballer who’s too busy fidgeting in his seat to realise, and you think it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him so nervous — even more than before a crucial game, and you wonder what’s come over him.
“Jake, the neon pink sparkly pen? If you’re not in love with your best friend, what puts you in such a lovesick mood?” You ask, flapping the crumpled piece of paper at him as he sighs.
“Firstly, it’s a smiggle pink scented pen, get it right. And secondly, it’s not really about matchmaking, I just need your help with something.” He groans at the accusations you’ve pasted on him.
You purse your lips, “Jake, you know I don’t do anything other than matchmaking. I would really like to help, but I’ve been a little tight on time recently.”
Before you can grab your bag from the small round coffee table, he swiftly brings his hands up, stopping you from leaving. His eyes held such desperation that your body seemed to move back down by itself.
“Look, this is kind of like matchmaking, think of it as helping a blossoming couple out. Please.” His plea of desperation squeezing your heart ever so slightly.
“Has this blossoming couple got something to do with you and that pretty best friend of yours?” You raise your eyebrows, as you shoot a knowing look at him. It wasn’t rocket science, and it didn’t take a genius to know that Jake was deeply in love, fully head over heels: entranced with his best friend. And as Cupid, no doubt you had such information at the back of your hand.
Jake holds back a smile by biting his lips, eyes darting away in fear of professing his love, “look, Jay’s just been such a cockblock recently, they’ve been friends for a while but nowadays they’ve been hanging out together a lot more. Alone. Do you understand how big of a crisis this is? All I need you to do is watch him, maybe use those matchmaking skills of yours to match him up with someone?”
You look at the pitiful state of the boy in front of you, with his hands constantly moving to brush his hair back in his withered stressful state. And you can’t help it — as someone who’s all about love, you find yourself agreeing to help him, even if you were already swarmed with four other couples to matchmake.
You find the list in your head getting longer as you ask Jake about Jay, the tiny book in your head that’s filled with possible matches seeming a little empty at Jake’s description of Jay’s ideal type, likes, and dislikes.
It wasn’t the first time you’ve heard about Jay, in fact it was probably about the nth time with the amount of girls who come swarming to you with bleak hope that you’d be able to matchmake them with him. And of course, you couldn’t deny the fact that he was attractive — with his coveted status as the vice captain of the basketball team, and not to forget his matte black Porsche he drives to school everyday, it would be weird if he wasn’t popular.
But what’s all that when Park Jay had a dick for a personality. Well, at least that’s what the rumours say.
And you’re about to confirm it right here right now as you stand outside the sports hall, the squeaking of court shoes piercing through your ears as you stall by rechecking Jake’s text.
Jay’s at basketball practice till nine, maybe you can catch him there.
The time on your phone blares a bright ‘0925’, and you curse yourself for not having the guts to say no to Jake — because as much as you are Cupid, you’re also weak hearted, and you don’t know how to handle a devilishly handsome boy who’s said to have a bad attitude.
You let out the breath you’ve been holding, getting ready to push the door until it swings open from the other side and the vision in front of you turns from the freshly painted navy blue doors to a tall, lean boy with a number 99 plastered on the front of his jersey.
Holy shit, you think, and you wish you could duck around quickly and scurry away, yet your feet remain firmly planted to the ground as your eyes linger on the face in front of you.
“Something wrong, Cupid?”
You open your mouth only to close it yet again. Because despite the harsh tone or recognition his voice held, you were mesmerised. You’ve only ever seen Jay from afar and now up close, he looks like a collection of violet-tinted heartbreak and soft silver snow — as the ferocious intensity he emits settles itself in the sharp dip of his cupid’s bow. His beauty is devastating, and your task is forgotten for a moment as you take in his black hair damp with sweat and the slender set of collarbones revealed by his jersey.
The boy looks like an angel and siren all at once, and fuck it if he isn’t the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. Even prettier than Lee Heeseung, the attractive basketballer you’ve known since middle school (who you had a tiny crush on back then.)
It takes you forty two seconds and Jay bending down to snap you out of your gaze. And you find yourself not being able to do anything but shift back as the boy smoothly ties your shoelaces which you must have left undone in a rush to reach here on time.
“Thanks,” you say honestly, voice too breathy as your veins pump with embarrassment.
He smiles softly, “don’t mention it, wouldn’t want you to trip and fall, right?”
You pause, and you hate how awkward you are during unplanned encounters. “Right,” you say, stumbling over your own words, “I mean- uhm, yeah! Thanks, but- I could have tied them myself.”
Jay laughs, and it’s a little husky as you capture the sound. “Right. You’re cute when you ramble.”
Right now, you wished you possessed the charm you usually carried when talking to other targets — bold and feminine. But with a mere sentence, Jay had the ability to reduce you to a young girl talking to an infatuation for the first time. And you think the rumours are false, because the boy in front of you seemed nothing like the playboy you’ve heard about: barely seeming to have an ounce of smooth confidence in his bones.
“You’re here for me, aren’t you Cupid? Did someone want you to matchmake me with them? Or are you on some sort of mission?” His sudden change of tone throws you off, arrogance radiating off him as the look in his eyes change. Bolder, sharper.
You think that you’re an idiot, for falling for his innocent façade, for believing those rumours were fake. Because now Jay looks like he’s playing god, with a devil’s smirk etched onto his face.
“Does the name Jake Sim ring a bell?” It amazes you how blunt he sounds, mouth tense and one corner slightly tilted down. And it pisses you off, how handsome he still seemed.
“He’s the captain of the soccer team,” you try, avoiding the question all together, “who doesn’t know him.”
The boy in front of you seems unsatisfied, “not what I was asking and you know it,” he declines, a borderline genius glinting in his eyes.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
He smirks, brushing his hair back, “you’re telling me that my best friend didn’t hand you a note with my name on it, asking you to keep an eye on me?”
Fuck. How does he know?
You send him a cool grin — and thank goodness your usual calm and composed exterior is back — as you slowly walk towards him, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Not everything in life is about you Jay, so get lost.” You pause. “Please.”
A part of his tenacity amazes you when he fails to keep his mouth shut, and you feel annoyed at his stubborn persistence. “Everyone knows your little love business, Y/n,” Jay elaborates, making you grit your teeth. His voice is like liquid mercury, toxic yet smooth. “There’s always talk about a new happy couple and a pretty pretty girl who set them up.”
And as if on instinct, your hands move up to twirl the ends of your hair, “what about it, Park?”
“You’re telling me that Jake Sim didn’t meet you today? Look me in the eyes and say it.”
You stare into the eyes of the boy who looks like he could be a model, heart betraying you as it escalates. “I didn’t meet Jake Sim at Starbucks today. Quit bothering me, alright?”
“I didn’t say it was Starbucks,” Jay states brazenly, his head tilting in princely arrogance as you watch a small smirk settle on the crook of his mouth. “I thought good girls like you never lie.”
“Fucking hell,” you breathe in sharply, “get lost.”
Jay tucks one hand into his pocket, tugging his lips into a small smile, “You go first, I’ll follow you.”
Your cheeks heat a dark shade of red as you dread to have to tell Jake that Jay knew of your deal.
“Wait,” he says as you turn, gently grabbing your wrists. He might seem a bit rough on the outside, with arrogance lining his collarbones, but when he touches you, it’s surprisingly soft. “Don’t tell him I know. All I’ve been doing is giving her advice about approaching Jake and I don’t want to ruin any surprise she might have planned.”
You nod slowly, pieces coming together in your head. “So you want me to be your double agent?”
Jay smiles, and if you were honest, it might have been the most genuine you’ve seen him today. “Why not? Not like you’d take the chances of spoiling a couple’s confession. Live a little.”
You roll your eyes at his comment, “I live a lot, Park, maybe more than you’ve ever lived.” You pause, “ and if you want me to, you should fix that attitude of yours. God knows how you bag girls acting like a dick.”
Jay presses his hands to his chest in mock pain. “Your words hurt, Cupid,” he pouts, eyes glistening, “so are you in?”
“Depends,” you admit, “maybe if you take me on a ride in that cool car of yours.”
He thinks for a moment. “Fine.”
A smile blooms on your lips, and you’re too triumphant to notice the way Jay’s breath hitches as he takes a small step backwards, as if your aura was too potent, too powerful for him to breathe in.
“Deal.”
ii. a short guide on handling a crazy heart
The last place you’d ever think of telling your best friend, Yunjin, about your encounter with a certain vice captain was in the bathroom of a stranger’s house, with the latest hits blaring into your eardrums. “He’s got a dick for a personality,’ you scream over the music as she fixes her hair in the mirror, “he’s arrogant, infuriating, and he doesn’t know when to stop.”
“Sounds like someone I know,” she replies, giving you a knowing look through the mirror, and you roll your eyes at her comment. “So what exactly did Jay want you to do again?” Yunjin’s eyebrows raise as she asks her question for the fifth time this week, and you think if your friend wasn’t so pretty, you would have purposefully messed up her hair in annoyance.
You sigh, “he wants me to be a double agent of some sort, he doesn’t want to ruin his hard work of giving advice,” you admit, “I’m practically sandwiched between two best friends.”
“Aw, you guys are like a pair of cupids,” Yunjin says thoughtfully, “you and Jay. And I guess it brings no harm. Though you might be pissed with his personality, someone has to get under that thick skin of yours. He might just be the one to do it.”
You shoot her the finger accompanied by a glare as the two of you finally exit the bathroom to the bustling scene of the party, with sweaty bodies swaying to the rhythm of music blasting from the speakers.
“Y/n!” A golden voice calls out, making you turn over your shoulder, to find Jake waving you over excitedly, with a tall boy dressed in all black beside him, leaning against the wall coolly as he gazes at you with hooded eyes.
There’s an ineffable feeling that crawls into your stomach when you see Jay, as if he held all the power in the world to crush you with a glance. “Come play beer pong with us, we need two more people.” Jake's voice goes through your ears before leaving through the other side as you nod aimlessly, eyes trained on Jay’s figure — lean back muscles that were visible through the shirt that hugged his figure, as you and Yunjin follow them into another room.
“Me and Jay against the two of you,” Jake grins as he nudges you by the shoulder to the other side of the ping pong table, a few familiar faces surrounding the area.
“I’m out, ask Heeseung to play instead,” Jay mutters under his breath, but you catch it despite the loud chatter amongst the crowd. And it dims the small excited flame burning in your heart.
You watch as Jake sighs, “come on bro, don’t be a party pooper. First Sunghoon ditches to go god knows where with that neighbour of his, and now you?” Jay moves to comb through his slicked back black hair, eyebrows furrowing as he calls Heeeung over.
Looking at Heeseung, you realise that Jay and him were two completely different kinds of beautiful: Heeseung had a sharp jawline and soft curves; Jay, on the other hand, had a kind of edge and arrogance constantly lining the corners of his mouth, and it’s unconventional. To say the least. Everything about him was to you.
“Come on Park, don’t spoil the fun,” you pitch into the conversation, as the three heads turn towards you, “or are you scared you’re going to get trashed by two girls?”
Jay mutters a chain of words under his breath as he steps out of the tiny circle they’ve made, towards you, his gaze centred on you. And it suddenly feels silent as Jay’s eyes start at the tips of your toes, sliding across the smooth expanse of your legs and past your torso, lingering on the slight curvature of your neck before landing on your lips. Your swallow is embarrassingly audible in the unusual quietness, but you soon clear your throat.
He’s so handsome it makes you want to scream. You hate how good he looks; you hate how he looks at you, like you’re something of his affections. And you hate yourself for actually liking the attention, because even though you always state that you hate him, you know it’s not true.
Jay just gets on your nerves.
“Fancy seeing you here, Cupid. Who knew you could ever look so stunning?” And just like that, the moment’s over.
“Shut the hell up, Park. All you have to do is throw a ball into a cup, or are your basketball skills that bad?” You challenge him, and Jay lets out a laugh: a real laugh that you want to hear again and again and again, because it sounds like silver music and he’s beautiful.
And you hate yourself and your feelings.
“If that's what you think,” he breathes, as he stares into your eyes, “let’s make a bet then. If I win, you have to come to a basketball game of mine — because you’ve clearly not been to one, wearing my jersey, cheering for me. And if you magically happen to win, I’ll do anything you want me to.”
Maybe his car, maybe you could ask him to give you his car, you think as you set your mind on winning. Not one ounce of doubt that you’d be able to beat Jay, because despite not having attended one basketball game, you think that you had sufficient skill to win. He can’t be that good, right?
And once again Jay proves you wrong as he effortlessly scores cup after cup, and you’re buzzed, barely able to comprehend your surroundings as the crowd cheers his and Jake’s name. The only words you hear clearly is Jake’s extremely loud cry of excitement as Jay throws yet another ping pong ball into the last cup on your side of the table.
“See how it’s done, angel? I’m not vice captain for no reason,” he smirks as he rounds the table to your side. Though you’re half gone, you’re suddenly grateful for the dim lighting because you’d be caught dead by the boy next to you if he sees your flushed cheeks at the new nickname he’d just given you.
“Anyone told you not to randomly call strangers angel?” You hiss, as he gently wraps an arm around your waist, steadying your wobbling figure. Jay shrugs, and you huff out a breath, “it does something to them, okay?”
The boy looks down at you, thumb brushing over your cheeks — and you tell your weak heart to calm down, “what does it do, angel? Tell me,” he mutters under his breath, and he’s too close to you, because you can feel the weight of his words sink into your body as the hairs on the back of your neck stand.
“It hurts me, them, right here,” you reply, closing your eyes to tame the nauseating feeling in your brain, as your finger points to your heart, “makes their heart go boom.”
You don’t see anything, but you can feel Jay’s hands wrapped carefully around the nape of your neck, fingers entangled in your hair, as the other cradles the smooth, glass-like skin of your jaw, thumbs once again brushing with a tantalising shimmer. His breath smells of sangria and mint, and the sensation is just warm as you’re cast unceremoniously under his addicting spell.
“Yeah?” He whispers, and you nod softly.
“Yeah,” you answer, “so stop it, whatever that was. It’s annoying.”
Your eyes open and you see Jay smirking in his trademark expression, and you click your tongue in annoyance, pretending as if your heart wasn’t about to jump out of your chest.
“But that’s what you are, aren’t you? Cupid - Angel, same thing.” He replies, and you’re about to answer, but decide not to as his words swirl around in your chest.
“What are you even doing here anyway?” you groan, changing to topic as you furrow your eyebrows, vision betraying you as Jay’s devilishly handsome face duplicates itself under intoxication. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to drink when you were such a lightweight.
“Don’t think too hard, angel,” Jay teases, “or else your head will start hurting.”
“Shut up asshole,” you roll your eyes, trying to concentrate on the boy in front of you instead of the pounding in both your head and chest.
Jay grins, and you can see a little bit of evilish impurity and jaded sleekness — like a trained jaguar waiting to pounce. “Shut me up then,” he murmurs, “kiss me, angel.”
“If I kissed you, you wouldn’t be able to handle it,” you announce, and you busk in this moment because you’re sure you’d forget it tomorrow morning.
“And if I kissed you, I probably wouldn’t be able to stop.”
Your vision goes black.
You wake up buzzing out your mind, surprisingly in your own bed, with not a hint of remembrance of last night’s drunken conversation.
“Just get out, get some fresh air, it’s good for hangovers,” Yunjin says, all dolled up and ready to patronise the new cafe she’s been raving about, while you sit at the edge of your bed, staring daggers at her with your hair all messed up and head still spinning.
You groan, “are you insane,” your hand moving up to rub your eyes furiously, “must feel good not to be a lightweight.”
Maybe it’s your friend’s persuasion skills or maybe it’s just the fact that you’re easily persuaded because after ten minutes, you find yourself decently dressed and walking into the small diner situated around the corner as the striking ring of the bell pierces into your head, making you wince.
“Jake, fancy see you here again,” Yunjin shouts across the diner to a small four person booth where you see said boy’s head popping out.
“Yunjin, Yn,” Jake waves, as Yunjin pulls you yet again to Jake, exactly like how she did yesterday night. “You know my best friend,” Jake introduces, staring at her as she waves, a bright smile that could bring a boy to his knees.
“Cupid or yn, right?” She asks, with clear confidence exuding out of her, “Jay’s cupid.”
You cough at her words, eyes darting to Jake’s face as you tilt your head in question. “Jay’s told me or well me and Jake about you.” She clears up, moving your suspicions away from her best friend.
“Right,” Jake chimes in, “surprised you’re still alive after yesterday. You knocked out mid conversation with Jay and he drove you and Yunjin home.”
“Come again,” you turn to look at Yunjin, eyebrows furrowed as she gives you a guilty look.
“He had a nice car, and he offered, what could i even do with you alone,” she murmurs under her breath and you slap her shoulder.
“Actually, Jay’s here if you want to talk to him,” Jake brings up, looking around for the boy. And your eyes widen at his words, tugging Yunjin’s sleeves as an indication to leave.
“Yn, Yunjin,” and you curse yourself because Jay sounds so good in the early hours of the morning, too good, with his slightly raspy and deep voice that you wished to hear over and over.
You can’t bring yourself to look at him, knowing how you are when you’re drunk. Embarrassment swallowing you whole and spitting you out at the thoughts of what you might have done in your drunken state consuming you.
“You okay angel?” You turn around at the sound of the nickname that pinches at your heart, “after what happened last night, I thought you’d never see the light of day again.” The familiar devilish smirk is cued and you know you shouldn’t be trusting him yet you are as your cheeks heat up.
Jay chuckles at your abashed state as he gazes at you, wondering how you looked so good even in a plain white shirt and shorts. Like an angel, and he thinks the nickname he’s given you is spot on.
“Don’t remember? Then I’ll leave it to your imagination,” he says, leaning into you. As you freeze, eyes dart from his face to his lips for a second before looking back up. You don’t know what’s come over you because your usual calm demeanour has been flushed out, replaced with the resounding of your rapidly beating heart.
“Can’t believe you’d do such a thing to me, angel.”
Your imagination runs wild especially after you watch Jay walk out the diner with a winner’s smile on his face, head racing with embarrassing scenarios as he consumes your mind day and night.
iii. pink eyes, pink hearts, the whole world turns pink when i’m with you
When you meet Jake again at the same small rounded Starbucks table, you tell him Jay has no intentions of getting together with his girl. He smiles and tells you that there’s no longer a need for you to ever talk to Jay again, and for some reason it bugs the hell out of you.
You don’t know why. Maybe it’s because you can’t stop thinking about the golden confidence that surrounds his body like second skin, or the way he walks — like he’s it. Maybe it’s the way his hair still looks perfect after hours of sweat and playing basketball, or maybe it’s just because he knows exactly how to get you heated.
You hate thinking about him too much, because you’re afraid that your cheeks will flush a cherry red and you’ll start remembering how he bent down to tie your shoelaces or how his muscular arm wrapped gently around your waist as he entertained your drunk blabbering ( you cried for three days upon remembering this, cursing Yunjin for not helping you out ). So you don’t think about Jay, how he’s so so pretty and you certainly don’t think about the straightness of his nose, or the birthmark on his neck.
It’s a Friday night, and the campus is empty, students all gathered to watch the football game. And you feel an uneasy sensation settling at the bottom of your stomach. Something’s terribly off, you realise, as you look at your shadow and see another following you at an awfully close distance.
I fucking hate men, you conclude, as you clutch the pepper spray you keep in your jacket pocket, and you continue walking in the same direction like nothing’s wrong. You can’t call Yunjin, because she’s busy cheering her head off at the football game, you think as you try to strategise. And you silently curse as you watch the shadow get closer, it’s fine, you think, you’re strong and fast — and your trusty pepper spray never betrays you.
You turn around and spray the small can in the face of your follower, jumping back to see if the chemicals did the desired damage. But when the air clears, all you see is Jay’s gorgeous face crying profusely.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you repeat again and again, and he doesn’t say anything. “I’m so sorry, Jay. Are you crying?”
The boy in front of you doesn’t look at you, blinking through his red eyes and burning tears as he takes the tissue you’ve offered him. You watch his swollen, puffy eyes as tears roll down and collect at the corner of his chin.
It’s not the time to laugh, you think, maybe just a little. And you have a strong urge to whip out your phone from your back pocket and take a picture of the once in a lifetime view in front of you.
So you do. And Jay isn’t having it.
“You know,” he says, voice scratchy, “you’re the most difficult fucking person I’ve ever met in my life.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes at his obvious compliment, “how would I know that you weren’t some pedophilic stalker who’s come to kill me!” You look at his pitiable state and you stop, “I’m really sorry.” Your voice softens.
“Say it again.” And his commanding tone makes you feel not so apologetic anymore.
“Go to hell.”
Jay sighs in annoyance, “that’s cute,” he replies, and you ignore the way your heart skips a beat. “I just saw you and wanted to talk to you, and maybe give you my jersey, for our bet.” His voice reminds you of springtime love and dragonfruit hibiscus, of frenzied thrills and mysterious shadows.
“Oh, where is it?” You ask, as if the thought of wearing his jersey to watch your first ever basketball game didn’t excite you even a little bit. His fingers clasp around your wrist, pulling you to a carpark where he had parked.
He unlocks his car, one hand still pressing the piece of tissue against his eye as the other swiftly opens the boot of the car. “Here, it’s washed, don’t worry — since you seem like that kind of person.”
You give him a look, as you watch him remove the tissue from his eye. It’s turned a shade of pink now, less puffy and less glassy. “What exactly do you mean by that Park, and here I was thinking of treating you for ice cream in return for giving you a pink eye.”
He huffs a tired sigh, “with the way you’re tiring me out, you should treat me for ice cream.”
And you look at Jay, who’s glowing under the rim streetlights despite his obvious red eye ( kudos to you ). With cheekbones that cut like ice and eyes liquid scotch, Park Jay is an alcoholic beverage and he doesn’t even know it. You’re addicted, even if your mind disagrees with your heart.
Stars could gleam all throughout the night sky and yet you’d still prefer to watch them through his eyes. And you think that you’re fucked, because you’ve never really thought of anyone like that. Not even Lee Heeseung, you only liked him because he was the fastest runner in middle school, but Jay — Jay made you feel like treasured snow in a globe kept by a bedside, he makes you feel like a fever dream.
“If you drive me, I will,” you say and he grins, jogging over to open the passenger seat for you.
“I’ll take a pistachio ice cream,” he orders as he slides into the driver’s seat and you enjoy the cool, crisp air blowing at you.
You choke at his words, “pistachio?” as your head tilts in question, “who eats pistachio nowadays? Everyone eats mint chocolate chip.”
Jay’s face contorts into an expression of disgust as he scrunches his eyebrows, taking his eyes away from the road to face you. “Honestly expected more from you angel, but I’m not surprised, just disappointed.”
“And I expected more from you, Park.” You comment, “who the hell doesn’t like mint chocolate chip?”
He groans at your argument, “it’s fucking toothpaste on a cone, what is there to like?”
You gasp, mouth wide open ready to fight back till he sighs, eyes rolling as he turns into the parking lot of Baskin Robbins, “fine, I’ll give mint chocolate chip another try if you try pistachio. We’ll try each other's ice cream, okay?”
Smiling, you nod, happy that you’d win the argument, even if it meant having to try some weird nutty flavour of ice cream. “I’ll go get it, wait for me.”
You jog into the store, excited to finally treat yourself to ice cream — and for Jay’s expression when he eats mint chocolate chip because you know his face would scrunch up ( and you wouldn’t miss the opportunity to take yet another picture ).
You come back out into the parking lot, and you see Jay, with another girl pressed up awfully close to him, and it feels like your throat is closing up, squeezing as you feel the urge to rip the two apart. It looks wrong — Jay and her, and you think it’s what your knowledge and years of being Cupid is saying ( or maybe it’s your heart ). You hate it, hate the way she’s looking at him as if he’s some fallen God from heaven, hate the way she shifts closer to him even when he’s trying to avoid touching her.
You move before you know it, and you expertly loop your arm around Jay’s waist after passing his cup of ice cream to him. Red hot satisfaction lighting up inside of you as Jay rests his arm around you — as if it’s his natural instinct, and his expression of annoyance morphs into one of a devilish smirk that you were now well acquainted with.
“You’re back, angel,” Jay murmurs, as he kisses the top of your head, his voice reverberating in your temples.
“Yeah,” you say, grinning sweetly at him before shooting the girl a glare: eyes turning into stilts as you give the clueless girl yet another warning sign. It doesn’t take long for the intruder to awkwardly excuse herself before you click your tongue in annoyance, turning around to face Jay who had a foreign expression on his face.
“Is my angel jealous?” He asks, raising an eyebrow, and your heart fawns at the small movement that was ridiculously attractive. He hums, smiling sharply as your breath catches.
You clear your throat and look away, well aware that your hand still lingers on his chest and you have no motivation to move it. “Shut up.” And you feel panic rising, bubbling. This is bad. This is too dangerous.
“I could shut you up instead,” Jay murmurs, stepping even closer and a thrill runs through your body. “Want me to?”
“You’re such an arrogant asshole,” you whisper, slapping his shoulders without any real force, “why would you ask me this kind of question.” Your heart is screaming a resounding yes.
“Because I’m a gentlemen,” Jay glares at you, and this tension between the both of you — like cold fire and hot ice, erupts in a lick of blue, crystallised flames. “So I’ll ask you another time,” he pulls you towards him, “can I kiss you, angel?”
You can’t take it anymore. “Stop talking and just do it.”
You pull him down by his collar and press your lips onto his, feeling your skin heat up as his lips move on yours. Holy shit, you think. He’s an expert kisser. And it might be ironic because it’s your first kiss ever, but you believe that nothing after can ever top this.
His hands rest on your waist, then to your jaw, then to your neck — and you feel. Feel the tip of his tongue asking for entrance at the inner part of her bottom lip, feel the way he’s kissing you roughly but smoothly at the same time, hair brushing your forehead and breathing unsteady against yours. Jay tastes like a blessed curse, a collection of angelic alcohol on a summer evening, and you want to hold him and never let go.
Because you’re making out with Jay, and your heart is pounding as you rest your thumb on his pulse and feel it flaring wildly, recklessly. Oh my god, you think, as he squeezes your waist before breaking the kiss — eyes slightly hooded as he stares at you in adoration that sparkles under the midnight sky.
He will be the death of you.
iv. three ways to ruin park jongseong
Jay thinks that there’s three ways to ruin him.
One: The kid’s viking ride at amusement parks. It absolutely destroys him, and his hair that he works on for hours in the morning. His knees get weak and his brain thrown out of his body as he squeezes his eyes shut, begging heaven to let him live another day even before the ride starts.
Two: Mint chocolate ice cream. Which was why he surprised himself when he agreed to give it another try for you. He absolutely distastes the flavour, as the creamy cavity inducing toothpaste taste coats the roof of his mouth, he winces in disgust. The only exception, he thinks, is when he kisses you and he tastes it. Instead of its usual nauseating effect, it instead tastes like love drunk cherry epidermises.
Three: You. With his jersey hanging from your shoulders, and he can smell his cologne, as you brush past him, eyes forming crescents as you greet him. “Hey Jay, are you ready for the game?”
His heartstrings tug, quicker and quicker at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. And he might be a little foolish when it comes to love, but he thinks that this was the way his name was meant to be said.
“Jay? What, cat got your tongue?” You laugh, smiling. And he thinks he’s fallen for your laugh — that’s utterly contagious, your smile — which made him giddy for no reason, and the way you weren’t scared to annoy the hell out of him.
He doesn’t know if this feeling is normal, because despite the rumours, Jay’s never had a girlfriend, nor has he ever been with a girl; relationship or not, and it was all Heeseung who had girls around all the goddamn time. With them, he felt sick at the way they whined to touch his hair. But you, you ruin him the most, even more than the viking ship ride. And all his life, Jay’s been a pretty systematic person, but now he doesn’t know where to start, what to do about it.
“Come again angel, didn’t catch that,” he replies, eyes catching yours as he turns into the school car park, one arm slung over the back of your seat as he reverses into a lot.
You groan, cheeks pink, and he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. “I said, are you scared the other team will trash you to pieces?”
Jay chuckles, at your sharp tongue and the way you skillfully tease him. “I’m not scared, why would I be? With an angel cheering for me, I literally have God on my side.” He gets out and rounds his car, moving over to open your side of the door as he watches you lick your honey lips in nervousness. Under the 7pm tinted red and orange skies of a Wednesday, Jay realises how blue he’d feel without you now that you’re here.
“Who,” you pause, as you try not to jumble up your words, “who said I’d cheer for you?” A lazy smirk painted on your face, as you praise yourself for not tripping over the nervous butterflies the boy in front of you gave your stomach.
“You’re here with me,” he says, eyes trained on you as you lean back onto the side of his car, “I drove you here, I will be walking in with you, the jersey you’re wearing has my name on it. And, I invited you to the game in front of half the school population at that party. You see the pattern here, angel? It’s us or nothing.”
The way his eyes hold your gaze as his hands graze over yours melts you. And you’re so drunk in him, you feel as if you could touch the clouds in the salmon sky.
“What if I exchange my jersey with another girl?” You say, eyes glinting with mischief as you fold your arms, testing him. “Or maybe I’ll sell it, I’ve heard that this jersey is a pretty coveted item here in Decelis.”
He clicks his tongue in annoyance and you grin, “girls like you are the bane of my existence.”
“Girls like me?” You raise an eyebrow, “love, I’m one of a kind.”
“Yeah, you are. You are the bane of my existence.” Jay nods in agreement, as he slings his bag over his shoulder, and wraps his fingers gently around your wrist, guiding you into the unfamiliar sports hall. He thinks he’s playing with something dangerous — because you’re tangerine dusts of fire, flames that warm his skin and he relishes your warmth as you intoxicate his brain, his mind, as the smoothness of your skin lingers on his fingertips.
“Sit,” he says, pointing to an empty spot he reserved for you.
“I’m not your dog,” you retort, begrudgingly.
“Love of my life, light of my eyes, my all, would you please do me a kind favour and take a seat? I don’t want to tire those pretty legs of yours. Not like this.”
Oh.
You laugh, and it’s so loud that you can feel the eyes of others on you. Yet you’re fully focused on the devilish man in front of you. And you think, if you were very brave or honest you would tell him — that you might have fallen for his charming ways, sly smile, and god-like features.
“That’s right,” you grin as he shakes his head at your bratty behaviour.
“Anything for the princess,” he bows, and he doesn’t realise it but he’s smiling. Wide. And just like that you’re woven into his veins and he needs you like sin.
Jay makes up his mind that today’s match would be the best match he’s ever played. Not because you were here, sitting at the front row of the bleachers. Well, maybe, maybe it was because he wanted to hear you cheer his name, watch you grin in celebration as he scores hoop after hoop, and maybe because then — only then can he smoothly ask you to celebrate his win with him over dinner.
And that is exactly what he does.
“You did so good, Jay, when you twirled around that dude and threw the ball into the ring,” You say, reenact Jay’s winning shot, the jingle of the bell of your favourite diner that you recommended Jay to go to ringing as you enter the small place.
Jay think’s it’s extremely endearing, the way you call the basketball hoop a ring, or how you explain his moves as if he was a dancer on stage — twirling, he thinks he could work with that.
Jay directs you to a booth to sit in and a waiter comes to take your orders. You request a double cheeseburger and so does Jay. And he notes down the way you toy with the salt and pepper shakers, rips up the edge of a napkin, and clinks silverware together in odd amusement; you don’t ever stop moving, it seems. And it’s adorable.
“Tell me about your business,” Jay prompts, elbow settled on the table as you grumble in protest.
You shake your head, pursing your lips in refusal, “It’s a little embarrassing.”
“No it’s not,” Jay huffs, “I think it’s interesting.”
And so you tell him. “People pay me to matchmake them with someone they’re attracted to,” you mumble, “and sometimes I get paid more when I get a request to play a certain role.”
“What kind of role?” Jay asks, full of curiosity.
“Well, on Saturday Yoo Jimin is paying me to act like an innocent girl who her boyfriend was two timing with — he cheats a lot you see, and she wants to finally dump him.” You elaborate, “I don’t accept all of these requests, I choose them. I get a whole lot of weird ones too so that's a big no.”
“Isn’t that cruel,” Jay comments, but a drop of pity found nowhere in his voice. And you laugh, tilting your head back. He watches, eyes following the curve of your throat.
“Maybe,” you say, “but cheaters deserve it. Especially when Jimin’s boyfriend has hooked up with multiple girls.”
“So you like to roleplay?” Your mouth drops open.
“Is that all you got out of my explanation? That I may like to roleplay?” You scoff as Jay grins, “sadly for you Jay, I don’t.”
He glares at you and you glare back at him even harder. “Right,” he snaps, “how could anyone ever put up with you to begin with? You’re impossible.”
“That’s mean,” you pout, eyes flickering to his as you rest your chin on the palm of your hands. “You’re mean, Jay. I really hate you.” False.
“And you’re a devil’s spawn.”
You gasp, “you wound me, Jay. I thought I was your angel.”
You are, he thinks as he stares at you. And Park Jongseong wants to kiss you — but only in the most connotative way possible, so that no dictionary definition would ever stand a chance to describe how your lungs could be filled with the sweetest air possible and yet you’d still be so breathless. Often, pictures the both of you holding hands, watching a movie, sitting on the beach hearing your laugh throughout the day, catching your smile and he hopes that at the very least you think of him when your eyes are closed.
Roseate cheekbones, pearlescent soft lips, and bickering emanates love as the both of you fill the quiet dinner with intimate chatter.
And the night dies down all while Jay thinks about how you’re a vivid dream of lust and harmonies, euphoria reeking upon your entire figure, lips tainted with surreal giggles — and that the saliva in your throat is yet rather angel dust that converts into musical laughter, music he loved to hear as he watches you.
v. mascara stained cheeks, bruised skin, and a crumpled piece of paper.
“He must be really fucking into the cheating shit if he’s meeting his side chick an hour away from our school,” Jay grunts as he pulls over at the entrance of the restaurant Jimin sent you.
Today, you’re donned in a different style — sweatpants and a random big sweatshirt you stole from Jay’s backseat. Your hair messed up and your mascara smudged. It wasn’t really part of the job to be dramatic, but you only live once, so what’s the point of living boringly?
Jay scans your face for the fifth time in an hour, “you look exceptionally pretty today, angel. You really live up to your pet name.”
You grin, eyes rolling as you shuffle through your bag to take out a positive pregnancy test, mind sifting through your checklist — mascara check, positive test check. “Jay, love, it’s called dedication. You obviously do not have such a quality.”
His heart spins when you call him love. And it’s crazy, because he’s staring at you — with makeup smudged all over your face, positive pregnancy test in your hand from God knows where, drowning in his oversized sweatshirt yet he thinks you’re pretty, too pretty. And if that wasn’t dedication, he doesn’t know what is.
“I’m dedicated,” he says. And you raise your eyebrows in question.
“To what Jay? And don’t say basketball cause everyone in the world knows that you’re in love with it. Honest to G-”
“You,” He cuts you off, as he watches sunlight seep through the windows of his car onto your cheekbones, softly portraying faint constellations of stars upon them. He watches as your orbs glimmer with fervour, lips parting slightly to expose a marvelled gasp, and he hopes that the hazed longing in his eyes has reached you.
You cough, eyes dodging his gaze as you shift. “Not now, Jay. Not when I look like this.” And it’s enough for Jay to start smiling. He’s amused, that all that mattered to you right now was how you looked when he was about to confess to you.
“Fine,” he laughs, “I’ll do it when you look prettier than you look now.” You hum as you appreciate the way his arms look under the sunlight through the windows. Before today, you’ve never associated attractiveness with driving, but the slight imprint of his veins along with his lean muscles turned your mouth drier than usual.
“Only you get me, love,” you say, as you mess your hair up a little bit more in the mirror. “How do I look?”
“Like a sex addict.” You slap him, hard across his chest. “What? You asked!”
“You can’t say things like that to a girl,” you tell him, hiding a secret smile. “Be a gentleman, say I look great and wish me luck.”
“You’d only be looking good when you’re going on a date with me, roleplaying or not.” He mutters under his breath as you shoot him yet another glare. “Fine,” Jay gives in, leaning over the control panel, and he’s dangerously close to you. “Good luck, angel.”
In front of you, everything is still. Jay, time, galaxies, constellations pause to dawn upon him and gaze at you, who’s clearly unaware of your beauty. “Happy?”
You nod and he smirks, “Why so quiet now angel?”
“Just shut up and get on with our act.”
He laughs before the two of you go over your plans again: Jay entering into the restaurant first, sitting at a table near Jimin’s to monitor the situation, and you entering five minutes later, causing the biggest break up ever. It’ll be fun, like drama club.
You look at yourself in the mirror once again, and you think you look like those prostitutes in those trashy american tv shows before you enter the building with the classy exterior. With crystal chandeliers hung and tablecloths made of white linen, you feel terribly out of place, but for what if not for money.
You immediately spot Jay, sitting there with his long legs spread out. And a few tables to your right sits Jimin and her boyfriend, who continuously toys with his phone under the tablecloth while she tries to keep the conversation going.
It’s showtime.
You storm up to their table, positive pregnancy test in one hand as you yell out, “How could you! How could you cheat on me!” Hands reaching out to grab the boy by his collar, tears welling up in your eyes as he fumbled to stand straight under your tiger grip.
“Who the fuck are you?” He asks, eyes wide as saucers as his hands move up to surrender. “Jimin, babe, I swear I don’t know this crazy woman.”
“Crazy? You said I was your everything, that we were bound by fate! I believed you and now I’m pregnant,” you scream, throwing the test into his face as his hands scramble to catch it.
“Just get it aborted for god’s sake, it’s not that fucking hard.” And you gasp, shocked by the sheer stupidness of the boy. You don’t really let your emotions get to you, but the boy in front of you with a grip that could bruise your wrist and a mentality of a crude alpha male disgusts you.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You have a girlfriend who was willing to listen to you and give you a second chance before, but you ruined it by being an arsehole.” You pinch his forearm and he yelps, “you’re pathetic, and you don’t deserve anyone in your life.”
You watch as Jimin packs her things and leaves, before you meet Jay in his car. And without a word, he puts the makeup remover you brought into a cotton pad, dabbing your face with it as his fingers softly brush over the bruise forming on your wrist.
“You’re insane,” he says, “so fucking insane.”
You grin, “you don’t mind,” you make up his mind for him, and he rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, I don’t,” he says as he digs his pocket to retrieve a crumpled piece of paper, handing it to you.
And you open it, reading the scrawny handwriting in black ink.
Matchmaking
Name : Park Jay / Park Jongseong
Match : This girl I call angel, I’m sure you know who I’m talking about
Extra : I think we’re a match made in heaven, so please, help me win her over
vi. an angel and her love
You push your clingy boyfriend Jay away from your body, and to no avail fail for the third time. “Jay, you’re going to be late,” you tell the boy whose arms wrap protectively around your waist, “that’s not very vice captain of you.”
“And it’s not very girlfriend of you to chase your boyfriend away,” he mutters into the crook of your neck, as he proceeds to tighten his grip around your waist.
You give up, which you should have done minutes ago, because you know your boyfriend isn’t one to listen to anyone — even you. But you wouldn’t have it any other way, especially not when you’re not an easy person either.
“Go, or I’ll ask Yunjin to put that photo of you with a pink eye on the jumbotron,” you tease, and it works because Jay immediately lets go of your waist, eyes turning into slits.
“Hate you,” he says, rolling his eyes as he pulls you in for a kiss.
It’s short and sweet. And a line invisible to the naked eye seemed to be drawn between the both of you, it’s scarlet and relatively thick in magnitude, as the feeling of being in heaven — a feeling you’re accustomed to whenever you’re with Jay enlightens your skin again.
“Kiss me again,” you complain.
“You always order me around,” he laughs.
“Kiss me.”
“Are you sure?” he mutters, lips curving into his signature smirk.
You grab the back of his head, yanking him down once more. And the silence around the both of you explodes and a world of colours appear before your closed eyes. Every thought in your brain erased and replaced by the thought of him, just him. His lips pressing against yours, his hands pulling you closer, running up and down your back, into your hair. The taste of his mouth and the heat of his breath cloud your mind.
And when you finally convince yourself to pull away, your brain fails to string any piece of thought together.
“I love you more,” you tell him, as you smile.
And Jay looks, and he adores. He thinks (knows) he can watch you until the sun rises and the sun sets again, that he can watch you for days on end and never grow tired of you.
