[2:28 Pm]

[2:28 pm]

“did someone say something to you?”

jisung was fuming. he knew you like you were the back of his hand—seeing you at the level upset as you were only infuriated him even more.

“no, no. i’ll be fine, ‘sung.” you try your best to smile at him even through the tears blurring your vision.

your boyfriend sighs, tugging you towards him as a soft sob escapes your lips.

“shh. i’m here, baby. cry it all out.”

𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐬 / 剪刀石头布

xiaojun, hendery, yangyang x fem!reader

the most dignified way to settle something is via rock, paper, scissors. even if it's for someone's hand in marriage

1.9k words, historical-ish au but w/ modern language, low-key crack (but tbh these three r crackheads af)

a/n: lmao this was actually really fun to write ngl 🥴

There were a handful of things that society deemed inappropriate for young men to do in public. One of them, god forbid, was fighting for a lady's hand in a barbaric, violent manner outside of a duel. A duel of what, one might ask? Well, a duel of wits was fully acceptable. A duel of… whatever this was? Perhaps not. 

"Okay—" Liu Yangyang gestured for his two friends to come closer as he rolled up the sleeves of his navy blue suit jacket, gold cufflinks discarded. "—We go on shoot."

The other two participating parties were that of Xiao Dejun and Wong Hendery, both of whom seemed just as solemn as the youngest of their trio in what they were about to do. All around them, the debutante ball buzzed with chatter and gossip about all of the young women who had just entered into society. One of whom was you, the young lady rumored to have a pirate father, an affinity for opera, and who apparently "got her hands dirty" by spending time with the servants of your estate. 

For Yangyang, he had heard "pirate father"; Xiaojun heard "opera enthusiast"; and Hendery latched onto the fact that you were an excellent cook. The fact that you were more beautiful than any of the fake dolls in this room made you ten times more irresistible in their eyes. You were just barely clinging onto the legitimacy of your Duchess title, but neither of the young lords cared—they just wanted you. But now, they had to duke it out between the three of them to figure out which of them would get the first shot at your hand. 

The three of them primed their fists in the center of their little cult triangle. 

They chanted, "Rock, paper, scissors—shoot!"

Low curses filled the air around them as they all held out flattened palms for paper. 

They tried again, reciting the same chant, then threw out their weapons: a rock from Hendery, paper from Yangyang, and scissors from Xiaojun. Another round of swears and groans. 

People around them either pretended to not hear, or sent their backs visible expressions of disdain and displeasure. It was not proper for young men such as them to be swearing so often. And in front of ladies, no less. The audacity!

In the third round, when they threw out their hands, Hendery released a sound of guttural pain as his pair of scissors was defeated by Xiaojun and Yangyang's combined rocks. The latter winners then faced each other, eyes narrowed in challenge. 

"I want a redo," Hendery grumbled as he refereed the match. 

"Sucks to suck," Yangyang quipped before going into the next round. He was soon met by Hendery's howls of delight and his own utter, complete disappointment. "Now that's just fucked."

A scandalized scoff from a nearby woman went ignored. 

The three men stared at Xiaojun's winning hand: paper against rock. Smug and victorious, Xiaojun thanked his two juniors for being so easy to win against before disappearing into the crowd to have his go at wooing you. First impressions were everything, after all. 

"Deserved, methinks," Hendery said in a faux ponderous expression with his thumb and forefinger rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 

Yangyang deadpanned at him. "Oh, shut up. We can't just let him get her! Do you wanna be married to some woman you've never met from some country you've never heard of?"

Hendery snatched a flute of champagne from a passing tray. "We didn't know Yn until tonight."

"And?"

"Oh my god. You know what? Nevermind."

Yangyang pursed his lips as he watched Xiaojun waltz up to you, a charming smile on his face as he bowed in greeting. A glorious 90 degrees. None of them would bow 90 degrees even for the Queen of England. In kind, you curtsied low enough that your knees must have touched the floor under that glorious mass of satin, gossamer, and petticoat. Yangyang wanted you to curtsey for him while looking at him like that. 

God, this was unfair. Rock, paper, scissors was the wrong strategy. He had to do something else… 

"What if—wait. Where'd he go?" Yangyang whipped his head around, searching the crowd for where Hendery had suddenly disappeared off to. He had been by Yangyang's side and then suddenly—poof! Gone, as if—oh no, he didn't!

From across the room, Yangyang watched with mouth agape in pure betrayal as Hendery stole the spotlight from Xiaojun and swept you into a conversation that had you lighting up the room with your laugh and smile. Xiaojun seemed to feel the same way as Yangyang as he stood there silently, awkwardly watching the conversation happen right before his eyes. 

The way you giggled behind your lace-covered hand, how you blushed so delicately under the harsh lighting.

Yangyang fumed. First, he lost a child's game. Second, his best friend slid into your sights while slipping out of his. Third… well third… 

The thought lit up his mind as it lit up his face. He scurried over to the orchestra, requesting a specific waltz, the very one he had ingrained in his mind from the torturous ballroom dancing lessons his parents forced him to take. This specific dance would require the changing of partners—twice, to be exact. You would end up dancing with three partners. He just needed to ensure that he got you last, which was the longest segment of the song. He also prayed to god that you weren't yet head over heels for one of his friends. That would screw with his plan quite terribly. 

And so, when the orchestra started up, just as expected, Xiaojun found a way to sweep you onto the dance floor. Yangyang picked a random girl, flashed a pretty smile, and got her to be partners with him. All the while, he kept his eyes on you and his friend, making sure that he was dancing, but still within reach. 

The first switch went just as planned. Hendery had taken the bait, already taking you out of Xiaojun's hold to dance with for the second segment. Xiaojun had to hold in his indignation since he was now commandeering another partnership. Yangyang suppressed his laugh and played it off as a smile toward his new partner. If he had yet to meet you, he would probably be willing to court her. For a night. 

Yangyang felt the sound of the final switch right down to his bones. The telltale trills of the violins had the hair on the nape of his neck stand in anticipation, and he swirled his partner closer to where you and Hendery were.

It was quite simple, really. 

One moment, you were dancing with the young lord Wong Hendery; the next, you were in the arms of his best friend, another young lord, Liu Yangyang. The young lord smiled in greeting, the type of beam that had butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Hello," you greeted cordially. 

"Good evening," he said back, leading you through the rest of the dance expertly. You bet he could do this with his eyes closed. "Lady Yn, I presume?"

You chuckled. "I'd hope so. My name was announced at the beginning."

To his credit, he wasn't flustered or disheartened by your statement. It only seemed to make him grin wider. "Ah, but they did not announce mine. Would you take a gamble, my lady?"

"Proper ladies do not gamble, sir." You didn't imagine the flash of disappointment in his eyes, and you were swift to add, "Good thing I'm not a proper lady, right?"

Mild appreciation. "So what'll it be? A kiss for every wrong—or right—answer?"

"I do believe that you should take me out to dinner first, my lord."

He pretended to think. "Or perhaps… you'd agree to being courted?"

"Courted," you hummed in amusement. "And who might you be referring to? You?"

"I don't see why not." He puffed out his chest, twirling you around delicately. Your periwinkle blue skirts fanned out around you like a blossoming flower, and you couldn't help the grin that overtook your face. 

"You're quite good at this," you said when you were face to face again. 

The lord smirked. "I know."

"Arrogant much?"

"I give confidence where confidence is due," he replied with his chin held high. In any other man, perhaps this amount of cockiness would have been a massive turn off, but for some reason, it had manifested nicely in Yangyang. 

The waltz came to an end all too soon, and you found yourself curtseying before a bowing Yangyang. He seemed just as disappointed that the song was over, but before he could invite you to a scandalous second dance, two familiar presences filled the gaps beside you on the edge of the dance floor. Xiaojun stood beside Yangyang, and Hendery took up Yangyang's other side with a cupcake in his gloved hand. You recalled him eyeing the cupcakes earlier when he had first introduced himself. 

"Lady Yn! I see you've met my friends," Yangyang said, gesturing to the two men flanking him. "Xiaojun and Hendery. They're my very close brothers in arms. I believe you danced with them as well."

"It was my pleasure," you chirped with a shallow nod and curtsy. 

"The pleasure was truly all ours," Xiaojun said, hand pressed to his chest. The grey suit he wore fit him nicely. "You're a wonderful dancer."

"Why thank you! You're all light on your feet yourselves."

"Dance lessons," Hendery offered between bites of cake. 

Yangyang added with a cough, "Ballroom dance lessons."

"Tap," Hendery said offhandedly, and you let a small huff of a laugh escape your mouth. Imagining Hendery tap dancing? That was a sight. "You doubt me?" He gasped with feigned offense. 

You shook your head. "No, no. But I would like to see you prove it. Show me you've retained something from your lessons."

"I can tango," Xiaojun piped in. 

"Ballroom dance is much more dignified," Yangyang countered. 

Hendery hummed loudly, raising his pointer finger in opposition. "No, tap is clearly the most refined dance form. No one cares about the rest."

Xiaojun sighed, pinching the space between his eyes. "Why do I even try?"

"Dance in general is impressive," you told them, recalling how difficult it had been for your mother to get your two left feet to finally find a beat. 

You were suddenly hyper aware of the stares directed your way, the whispers. Your unconventional upbringing had always been a problem for the high society your mother came from, and the life you were to inherit. When you had been on the dance floor, you had allowed yourself to forget about all of the other people while you danced with three lovely men. Now, reality had crashed back in.

The three men noticed your discomfort, immediately shifting subtly to block you from everyone else's views. Your own wall of protection; you felt gratitude fill your chest. 

Xiaojun frowned slightly. "It's getting a bit stuffy in here, don't you think, Yn?"

You nodded, agreeing. "I hear the promenade is beautiful at night."

"And I hear they serve hot cocoa, too," Hendery added. It was decided then; they would escape the confines of the ballroom to the refreshing world outside. 

As the three of them followed you out, they sent glances to one another. Eyes narrowed in friendly (maybe) competition, it was a silent agreement. 

May the best man win.

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[1:09 am]

“are you sure you’re not cold?”

renjun’s concerned voice cuts through the silence of the night—a small cloud bursting past his lips.

your smile seems to calm his nerves, the tight squeeze you give his hand eases the wrinkle between his brows, “i’m fine, ren.”

he nods, pulling your hand into his jacket pocket nonetheless. you had refused his jacket knowing how sensitive your boyfriend was, but that only worried him a little more.

“the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” his whisper brushes against your ear—it was almost inaudible, but you heard him.

“babe… that’s a street lamp.”

Please write 6, 15 and 22 prompts with Doyoung 😭

[𝟏𝟐:𝟎𝟑𝐀𝐌] — bad boy!doyoung x reader

1.3k words, meet cute jail cell edition lmao, cursing, unrealistic situation (cries)

a/n: tbh i was so stumped by this prompt, but i'm actually kinda pleased w how it turned out :D

You never thought you would ever finally meet your school's ice prince Kim Doyoung while in a jail cell. It was cold, really, and when you had been taken into custody, you hadn't gotten the chance to grab the jacket from your car. Then again, you had little chance to do anything when they had up and cuffed you as if you being there at the wrong place and the wrong time was the evidence that you were the one who set fire to the front office building. 

No, you had an idea of who it had been. And he had just been shoved into your cell with you. (It was a small town with a small station. You were just realizing how small it was.)

"Don't go conspiring, you two," mocked the officer, before walking away, ring of keys spinning around his index finger. 

Doyoung had a jacket. 

It was that cursed black bomber jacket that half the girls in your class always dreamed about wearing around their shoulders. They always fantasized about him claiming them with that jacket. You always scoffed at the idea. They all had the money to buy the same exact jacket, but always lacked the brains to think about buying it. 

Doyoung let out a brusque sigh, raking a hand through his dark hair. He leaned against the front wall of the cell and now faced you, who sat on the edge of one of the two cots. "Hey."

You didn't say anything. You were here because of him, after all. 

He must have read your mind or something, because he said, "I know what you're thinking—"

"Oh, do you now?"

The man rolled his eyes, hard. You hoped it made his head hurt. "Mature, Yn. Very mature."

You almost started. How did he know your name?

"Yes, Yn. I know your name."

Was he reading your mind?!

"No, your face is just very readable." He sent you a thin smile. "I am fully convinced you never graduated Kindergarten now. Are you always like this to people you just meet?"

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. "Fuck off. I have every right since I'm in this damn place because of you." You didn't even have an alibi to get yourself out, or bail money. You were literally stuck here. Your idiotic older sister wouldn't even care you were in here either. Full on screwed, was what you were. 

Doyoung held out his hands as if placating a wild animal. "Yn, I swear to god I didn't set the office on fire. For once, I'm not the bad guy here." 

The two of you held and maintained a tense eye contact from across the cell from one another. Doyoung was always causing some sort of trouble with his friends. He wasn't labeled as a bad boy, per se. Rather, people dubbed him an ice prince for lacking empathy or compassion for anyone or anything outside his inner circle. You'd seen the wreckage he had made of the chem lab or the mess this freshman's bike became after Doyoung had raged through the bike racks after school. You despised him for being so—cruel. 

You had your fair share of trouble, but you liked to think it was because you were misunderstood. Yes, spray painting your art onto alley walls was a misunderstanding, clearly. But you would never go as far as arson. Fire was cool, but not that cool. (No pun intended.)

He breathed out again. "Someone's trying to frame us." He paused, reconsidering, "Well, someone's trying to frame me. You're just the poor sap who got sucked into this."

You deadpanned. Did you have to share a cell with this idiot? "Thanks. That makes me feel so much better."

"I didn't mean it like that," he stammered. "Yn, I'm just trying to put it how it is." Doyoung pushed off the cell wall and began walking across the cell toward you, and there was a sudden and very real spike of anxiety in your chest. 

"Don't come near me."

At your words, Doyoung immediately stopped.

You cleared your throat, adding, "Take another step, and I can't be held responsible for my next actions."

Instead of backing up as you intended for him to react, he instead cocked his head at you. A sly sort of smile slipped onto his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest. "And what might that action be, love?"

It suddenly occurred to you that the idiot was you at this moment. Your heart rate leapt. "No—no, that is not what I meant! I meant that I'd kick you in the balls or something if you came any closer!" You tried amending your words, but the damage had been done and your face was as hot as the flames that had devoured the office building. 

Doyoung grinned, and you had the sudden thought that it looked like a bunny. He chuckled. "Sure. Okay, I believe you."

"It's true!" You stammered. 

"Mhm," he hummed, sitting down on the edge of the other cot. "I said I believed you, didn't I?"

You scowled, and in a desperate attempt to save your dignity, you said, "Look, I'm this close to actually giving you a shiner, dude. I can't even go home because of you, and now this is on my record, and—"

Doyoung's eyebrows furrowed. "Wait, wait. Why can't you go home? You did call someone to bail you out, right?"

You scoffed. "Yes, because my older sister cares so much about me that she would interrupt her beauty sleep at midnight to come bail me out for alleged arson." You shook your head, bitterness rising in your chest. "I don't have the luxury."

Another tense silence fell over your shared cell as Doyoung considered you. You couldn't meet his gaze; you hated the pity in his eyes that was so uncharacteristic of him, but somehow fit his pretty, dark eyes so well. His face was built to express, but something prevented him from being emotional all the time. 

It was maybe a couple moments later that Doyoung broke the silence. He scratched the back of his neck. "For what it's worth," he murmured softly, "I'm sorry you got roped into this, Yn."

You swallowed. "It's okay."

He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but the officer from before was coming back with the ring of keys jingling from his fingers. "Looks like you're going home, Kim." He yanked the cell door open, and Doyoung stood up to exit. 

You tried not to be bitter. Or to feel sad about the prospect of being abandoned again. 

Doyoung glanced back over his shoulder at you. "Hang in there, Yn." He followed the officer back down the hallway, away from you and your sight. 

So… you were alone now, huh?

With a sigh, you settled onto the cot and curled in on yourself in an attempt to get comfortable and to stay warm. No jacket, no company, no sympathy. At least you wouldn't have to go to school tomorrow—

"Aw, love, you look so cute like that." The cell door was yanked open and you shot upward. Doyoung grinned at you from beside the officer. He beckoned you out with a wide grin. "Come on; let's get you out of there."

You blinked. Were you still asleep?

"No, you're not still asleep."

You glared, standing up and walking toward him. "What the hell are you doing back here?"

Doyoung ruffled your hair with his hand and you whacked it away with what you thought was a frown, but looked more like a pout. Man, did you always look this adorable? He couldn't understand why he was seeing you differently. Maybe there was something wrong with that jail cell. "I got my friend to bail you out, too. We'll give you a ride home."

When you balked a little, Doyoung examined your face, and suddenly understood. "Or you can crash at my place. You can be cute and curl up with me." He wagged his eyebrows at you, and you couldn't help but think how this was probably the most emotion anyone outside his inner circle had ever seen from him. 

You rolled your eyes, punching him in the bicep. (Shit, he had buff arms—) "Fuck off, Doyoung."

He grinned, though its edges were softer. "You first."

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The Revival of Hearts

Ⅰ. PAIRING 🤍 jisung x afab!reader

Ⅱ. GENRE 🤍 rivals-to-lovers, reincarnated soulmates, fluff, angst, very tiny bit of reader and jisung being parents

Ⅲ. WARNINGS 🤍 mention of death, bodily injuries, mention of blood, cursing, very hurtful words from jisung… just terrible

Ⅳ. SYNOPSIS 🤍 jisung and y/n were lovers in the renaissance times and every reincarnation draws them together, but something about this life is different and their hearts seem full of hate.

Ⅴ. WORD COUNT 🤍 2k

1570

jisung watched the ship sail away with treasures from his stand. the young merchant stared at the atlas in his hands. it was one of the first of its kind having only been published a few months earlier. the words seemed to almost shine, as if it were written in ink made of the purest gold from india. the title stared back at him: “TYPVS ORBIS TERRARVM.”

he laid on the bed he shared with his beloved y/n, holding the atlas up to the sunlight. “an atlas of the whole world…” y/n sighed into his chest as they lay together. “one day, we will see explore this entire map’s worth of land and sea, my love.” they shared a soft kiss and separated with their foreheads still connected. y/n spoke in a hushed tone, “i’ll love you anywhere, anytime.” 

1627

jisung had come back with less limbs than when he left for the war and the rush of blood out of where his right arm had been made him dizzy. y/n was struggling between taking care of her beloved jisung and tending to the market to fight off starvation. she came back home after a long day of making delicate pottery to sell. her helpless husband cried which brought her near to tears. “i’m sorry. i promised i would care for you when i brought you into my family and now i’m lying here, unable to properly love you.” y/n’s eyes glossed and she let out a small laugh, “my sweet jisung, i can feel the love you have for me radiate from your heart and it is enough to keep me wishing to wake up another day next to you for the next millennia.” jisung smiled as the pain was reach his heart, “i’ll love you anywhere, anytime.” and closed his eyes.

 1709

in their third life together, y/n and jisung tried to live a quiet life together as they raised a son together. they watched their son sleep in his mother’s arms with a smile. “life for him must seem so peaceful.” y/n ran her fingers across her son’s cheek delicately. “he is a symbol of our peace. our foreverness in this one miraculous, young soul.” 

y/n prepared supper while her husband looked after the child. “hello, my sweet son.” jisung watched his baby’s small fist latch onto his index finger. an obnoxiously precious grin took over his visage and a tear rolled down his cheek. “jisung, darling, why do you grieve ?” jisung shook his head and looked at y/n, “not grieve, my heart greatly appreciates the two prior empty holes that my lovely wife and son have overfilled with happiness.” the happy family embraced. jisung kissed the head of the two he cherished most. “i’ll love you anywhere, anytime.”

1777

jisung held an atlas in his hands. he was unsure of how it came to his possession but its outdated landmasses served no purpose other than to give him something to stare at. y/n walked in and stared with him. “do you think america will be recognised on maps ?” the wars of the west had been a spread news amongst the trade routes and foreigners who brought information about europe over. “do the matters of europeans really concern us ?” jisung sensed the irritation in her voice and put the atlas away. “what shall we do today, my dearest.” he wrapped his arms around y/n’s torso. “i’d like to lie here with you and leave these politics behind, let it just be the two of us alone with the land and sea undisturbed around us.” they watched the night sky birth a shooting star for the two of them. “what do you wish for, y/n ?” she smiled at the stars and kept her wish to herself. ‘i’ll love you anywhere, anytime.’

1862

jisung was an avid adventurer and brought back many different gifts for his children and y/n. he talked about the open seas and how the water that kissed his cheeks reminded him of his beloved’s sweet lips and the warmth of the sun couldn’t compare to the comfort of his lover’s arms. 

he left for another trip and in his mild adrenaline-induced hallucination, he saw the face of y/n in the clouds. he gave the sunset rouge skies a dazed and lovestruck smile. “i’ll love you anywhere, anytime.”

1926

amidst the rallies and displays of pride for his blooded nation, jisung found her. he had found his forever in another lifetime. he was a string tied around her finger like a childish friendship ring, a pure symbol of an everlasting love. this was their last time of their ‘love at first sight’ tale that went on for ages. this was their last ‘i’ll love you anywhere, anytime” before their story of hatred.

2022

jisung was now a university student studying the art of dance. he had stumbled upon the path of fellow dance major, y/n, many times; not a single one of those encounters led to them being completely enamoured by each other’s existences as they had in their previous lifetimes. jisung and y/n were in fact angrily kneeling to god asking why he aligned the other on their life’s journey. 

their rivalry hadn’t properly started until the day jisung was bitter that his days of making a choreography for the university’s dance club had been for naught has y/n took the spotlight from under his nose. it was her lazy dance that was chosen, it was her inferior skills that were set to be the focus of the stage. he constantly left negative remarks and snide comments for y/n’s ears only and she could only take so much before she pushed him over in the suite style dorm hallway he lived on while visiting her friend. 

things rarely got solved when the two were in the room and nearly always resorted to an “accidental” shove during practice. it had been months of constant anger and tension between the two that others in the club had felt sorry for themselves that two talents on their team were in a static state of aggression.

when a pair fought as badly as jisung and y/n, things were bound to be monumentally ugly, and a certain incident pushed past that limit. “you know, if you weren’t such a narcissistic attention-seeker maybe people would actually like you.” jisung spat after he stepped on her toes, blaming her for his own miniscule mistake. “i’m the narcissist ? you’re fucking incredible, and i definitely do not mean that in a good way. you are such a pathetic excuse for a dancer. you can’t even get your head out of your ass to admit your mistake !” the blood that pumped in jisung’s veins rushed to his face in a bout of fury. “you think i’m a bad dancer, well you wanna know what you are ? you’re loser struggling to make it big, well guess what ? you’ll never be famous because you’re not just untalented, you’re a walking mistake from god.” that was y/n’s final straw before she punched him. a loud crack echoed throughout the practise room meaning his nose was definitely broken.

jisung had decided to join a dance team off campus to avoid y/n at all costs. it was taking months for his nose to completely heal and he hated every feeling that came with it. 

pain…

his nose throbbed if he laughed too much, or if he scrubbed his face a little too hard. it was impossible, but it felt like the singular attack had caused his whole body to internally collapse. his legs were jelly straws wobbling in an attempt for balance, and his arms felt weakened; his right arm was so numb it was as if it wasn’t there anymore. 

anger…

y/n was the most unbelievable person he had ever had the displeasure of meeting. she was ruining his long-standing friendship with the members of the dance club, his aspirations of being in dance, his whole life even. ‘she always makes it physical.’ he huffed to himself. they fought multiple times, but leaving him with a broken nose ? y/n might have just made park jisung a supervillain.

and then came the feeling he hated most of all,

guilt…

jisung couldn’t stop blaming himself for the timeline he set himself on. he started this grudge over something silly and pushed y/n towards extreme rancour. she was new, looking for friends and something familiar and he ruined that for her. he obviously had to make it up to her and finally apologise.

 y/n had not been the one punched, but it felt as if she was brutally attacked and left to wither away. every step felt like a piece of hans christian andersen’s imagination come to life. her hands felt excruciating tingles course through like ants biting her veins. through all of it she loathed the ability to feel.

pain…

her pain felt more metaphorical than anything jisung was experiencing. her heart was heavy with the burden of an earth sized trouble, and she was atlas. she would wake up crying from dreams she couldn’t remember. every day since the damned fight felt like another battle where she lost each time.

anger…

jisung was insufferable. he was quickly becoming the bane of her existence. if her hadn’t been such a sore loser everything would be fine, in fact, they might’ve even had a chance at friendship. in every scenario that replayed in y/n’s head she was in the right; jisung blew things out of proportion and every time she would have to face the consequences of his childish temperament. 

guilt…

and yet, there was still a voice telling her that maybe she had been wrong. y/n felt she would have been angry too if someone came and forced her to erase all the work she put into something. she had heard jisung talk about dance like it was his life’s only purpose, and she’d seen that boy, he was definitely made for dancing. y/n felt that despite how right she was, she had to see him and apologise.

y/n went to class with little availability to intake whatever the professor was lecturing about. instead, she was shaking her pen and feeling horrendously trepidatious. ‘what if he takes a shot at me and i end up with a black eye ?’ ‘what if he gets me expelled ?’ ‘what if i hit him again ?’ the terrifying thoughts clouded her to her sight as she didn’t realise her class was over. y/n walked over to jisung’s dorm hall, looking over the atlas she was gifted on her 5th birthday to clear her thought. looking at the aged paper calmed her in a way; if the aged parchment stood against time and survived so could she. 

y/n was walking through the hallway with a lack of caution and crashed into another body. “i’m sorry, i wasn’t paying attention to where-” and that’s when her vision finally focused. of course, the silly universe had aligned the circumstances so crudely perfect so she would bump into him. “y/n…” jisung spoke with the same tone of shock. the air was neutral, no trace of animosity towards one another in this moment; the aura was akin to a comfortable silence. “i was on my way to say sorry. i held a stupid grudge and ruined your college experience and made you look unprofessional.” jisung finally spoke. y/n couldn’t say she was surprised for that was an understatement. “i came to say i’m sorry too. i’m sorry for making you waste all your hard work and for punching you.” with each apology their pain was alleviated. the glass shards embedded into y/n’s feet were gone and the cuts were healed. jisung’s limbs came back to their senses and he could freely stand again.

he was about to speak again until he saw the atlas and with a connection into y/n’s eyes it all came back. for the first time in all their rebirths had they become aware of their reincarnation and centuries old love story. jisung and y/n’s story had changed that day, it took time to get close after the suffering they put each other through but the universe had written in their futures forever. 

jisung and y/n were meant to love each other anywhere, anytime.

𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

kim doyoung x reader

0.4k words, fluff, est. relationship au

It wasn't too often that you both had time to yourselves, but when you did, you made the absolute best of it—

"YAH, JAGI, GET BACK HERE!"

—well, most of the time. 

"NO," you shrieked, leaping over the arm of the sectional couch and making a wide loop through the kitchen again. "You're gonna smother me in whipped cream!"

Your boyfriend, Kim Doyoung, grinned wide with the kind of smile that made his eyes turn up into crescents and his jaw hurt. "It's what you deserve, you little scoundrel!" His nose and left cheek were vandalized with a slash of whipped cream, a white cut across his fair skin. In one hand he held the tub of whipped cream you had been using to accessorize your angel food cake slices. The other was raised in the air with cream at the ready. Ready to enact vengeance, that was.

"I already said I was sorry, Doie," you said carefully while putting the kitchen island between you and Doyoung. "Let's just get back to the berries and cake, and finish the movie." Some trashy American movie was paused on the TV screen, the girl's eyes filled with tears as she confronted her bad boy lover. It was quite bad, but somehow you had convinced Doyoung to watch it in the first place. Then again, when it came to you, it wasn't difficult to convince Doyoung to do many things.

"No," he said with a predatorial glint in his eyes, "not until I make this fair. An eye for an eye; cream for cream."

You pouted, shoulders slumping, as you assumed the puppy-eyed pout that you knew he couldn't resist most of the time. You watched Doyoung's tough guy act crumble. Watched it shatter in his pretty, dark eyes…

"C'MERE!" He suddenly pounced left toward the side of the counter you ran around. Naturally, you leapt for the open side, but realized too late that Doyoung had only feigned left before switching towards the right.

You both collided at the other end of the island with you giggling and squirming in his hold. Doyoung held on for dear life, the arm holding the tub of cream wrapped tight around your waist as his other hand reached up and tapped the tip of your nose with whipped cream.

"Boop," he laughed, then kissed the cream off. 

Your cheeks warmed at the action. "Doieee," you whined, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. 

"Hey, don't wipe off my kiss!"

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