#ljh x y/n

[jjjjeonww]

random texts w ljh!

genre - fluff! warnings - suggestive. (mdni.)

[diamonddaze01]

Lilac Wine

pairing: ljh x afab!reader genre: angst, smut (MINORS DNI!!!!!) | wc: 2.7k warnings: infidelity, unprotective sex (wrap it before u tap it kids), crying a/n: loosely based on melt by josef salvat // i��m dedicating this to link @choism (who also made the banner, love u) // huge thanks to maren @wooahaeproductions for beta-ing (your comments always give me life)!

In the dark, Jihoon learns how to break you apart and build you back together, piece by piece.

It begins slowly; a movie night where you drift off to sleep on his shoulder, after having cried yourself hoarse. Jihoon learns that night that he absolutely hates your boyfriend. He also learns that he could love you so much better, if you'd only give him the chance.

Jihoon sits frozen in the dimly lit room, his eyes locked on your sleeping form. He takes in the small details, the curve of your lips and the flutter of your eyelashes as you breathe. He can see the rise and fall of your chest with each breath, the way your hair falls delicately over your face, and the scattered constellations of moles that decorate your skin. He takes in every detail, committing it to memory with an unwavering gaze.

And then, like you can feel his gaze on you, you startle awake. And you don't push him away. No, you lay your head on his shoulder, and it takes every working nerve in Jihoon's sleep-addled mind not to kiss you right there. But you look so pretty like this, staring up at him from under your eyelashes, and he thinks he might die. But he'll be damned if he dies here without having kissed you, without having showed you how much better it could be - so he does. And you absolutely melt into him with a soft sigh, like you've been waiting for this too.

And so, late at night, Jihoon learns exactly where to put his lips so you make the prettiest noises. When his lips finds the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, you gasp, arching into him, and it makes him almost combust on the spot. And the he remembers.

The boyfriend, the traitorous voice in his mind reminds him, and he breaks apart from you with a startled gasp. Your chest is heaving, your lips are kiss-bitten and plump, and Jihoon has never felt this guilty in his entire life.

“We can’t,” he breathes, and it breaks his heart. In his heart, he knows, more deeply and more powerfully than anything he’s ever known before, how much better he would be for you. But he can’t, not right now, and the thought cleaves his chest in two.

“I know,” you whisper back, as if you’re afraid to break this very fragile bubble that exists around just the two of you. Your eyes fill with tears, and Jihoon yearns. It’s like second nature, the way his hand cups your jaw, the way his thumb brushes a stray tear off your cheek. Before he can stop himself, before that traitorous voice can say anything else, he leans in again. His lips find yours, and he can taste the salt of your tears, the bitter taste of your guilt.

He should stop. He should. But then you kiss him back, again, and every rational thought flies out the window. His hands find the hem of your shirt, and you shiver so delightfully against him when his cold fingers find your warm skin.

“Jihoon-”

Jihoon's breath is hot against the nape of your neck, his words a desperate plea mixed with intense desire. "Tell me to stop," he whispers, his voice reverberating with urgency. "I'll do anything you say."

But you don't. Instead, your fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer. Your body arches into his touch, craving more, and he groans, kissing down your neck with a fervor that makes his head spin. Your skin feels like fire, but he’s so willing to let himself burn, even if it’s only for tonight.

"We shouldn't," you whisper, even as your hands roam beneath his shirt, tracing the contours of his back.

Jihoon pulls back slightly, his dark eyes searching yours. "Do you want me to stop?" he asks again, his voice husky and strained.

You shake your head, unable to form the words. He sees the hesitance dancing in your eyes. It's wrong, you know it's wrong, but it feels so right. Your fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt, trembling with a mix of anticipation and guilt. Jihoon's breath catches in his throat as your hands slide across his bare chest. He pulls back slightly, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation or regret. But all he finds is a reflection of his own desire, burning just as brightly.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” you breathe, and Jihoon knows that he’ll worship you for as long as he can have you. He’ll lose himself in you, over and over.

And so, in the dark, as the movie credits play, Jihoon learns the curve of your neck, the softness of your skin. He memorizes the cadence of your voice, the rhythm of your heartbeat, the taste of your lips. You are his religion, and he worships at your altar with reverent hands and whispered prayers.

With each touch, each kiss, Jihoon feels himself falling deeper. He knows this moment is fleeting, stolen in the shadows of night, but he can't bring himself to stop. His fingers trace patterns on your skin, mapping out constellations he'll never forget. Every sigh, every shiver, every soft moan is etched into his memory. They linger in the deepest corners of his mind, like delicate brushstrokes on a canvas, a masterpiece of sensation that he will never tire of admiring.

As clothes fall away, discarded on the floor, Jihoon takes his time. He wants to savor every second, every sensation. His lips ghost over your collarbone, down your chest, across your stomach. He feels your fingers tighten in his hair, hears your breath hitch. His hands find the elastic of your panties, and suddenly, it’s like he can’t breathe.

"Jihoon," you whisper, his name a prayer on your lips.

He looks up at you, drinking in the sight. Your hair is mussed, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with desire. You've never looked more beautiful. He finds your clit, and the sound you make sounds better than anything he could create in his studio. It’s heaven and hell, all at once, the way your hips grind against his palm, the scent of your arousal permeating his senses.

“Fuck,” he hisses, sliding your soaked panties down your thighs, “you’re so fucking wet.”

Your breath catches at his words, a shiver running through your body. Jihoon's fingers move with deliberate slowness, teasing and exploring. He watches your face intently, memorizing every flutter of your eyelashes, every parting of your lips. If this is the only time he’ll ever have this, then by God, he wants to remember everything, so he can play it back, night after night.

"Please," you whimper, your hips bucking against his hand.

Jihoon's breath catches in his throat. He's dreamed of this moment for so long, imagined the sound of your voice begging for him. But reality is so much sweeter, so much more intoxicating. Jihoon feels drunk on the power of your pleasure, on the way you respond to his every caress. He slides one finger inside you, then another, marveling at the tight, wet heat. Your walls clench around him, and he has to bite back a groan.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh. "So perfect."

His thumb circles your clit as his fingers curl inside you, searching for that spot that makes you see stars. When he finds it, you cry out, your back arching off the couch.

“More,” you plead, your voice a husky whisper that cuts straight through him, igniting every nerve ending. The need in your voice is intoxicating, and he obeys without a second thought. Your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him on as if you can’t get close enough, can’t pull him into you fast enough. “God, you’re exquisite,” he breathes, the words escaping him as he drinks in the sight of you. And then he’s there, his mouth on you, and it’s as if his world has exploded into color. You taste like a sinner’s salvation, sweet and salty and like guilt. Like lilac wine—bittersweet and intoxicating—you linger on his tongue, the taste of something forbidden yet holy, and he drinks you in, helplessly devout.

Jihoon’s tongue works in tandem with his fingers—each movement deliberate as he relishes the way your body writhes above him, how you tug at his hair as if you can't stand to have him any closer.  Your thighs tremble around his head, and he can’t help but revel in the way your body responds to him. Your breath comes in short, desperate gasps, and he knows you’re getting close with each flick and curl of his fingers.

He feels your walls fluttering around him, tightening in a way that makes his heart race. It’s a thrilling sensation, knowing he’s bringing you to the edge. With every gentle press of his fingers, he can see the pleasure building inside you, your body arching in anticipation.

“Please, Jihoon,” you whimper, and that plea ignites something deep within him. He’s captivated by how beautifully you’re coming apart in his hands, and it drives him mad.

“Let go for me,” he murmurs against you, adding a little more pressure with his thumb as his fingers pick up the pace. The room is filled with the sound of your soft moans, and he watches your expressions shift with every movement, completely entranced.

Just when he thinks he can’t take it anymore, he feels you tighten around him, trembling as your body responds to the building waves of pleasure. For a second, Jihoon swears he reaches nirvana; the sounds you make race through him like lightning bolts.

“Let go,” he urges softly, and in that moment, your body shudders, and a cry of bliss escapes your lips. Jihoon feels a rush of satisfaction wash over him as you come undone beneath him, skin glowing with exertion. Jihoon works you through it, gentling his movements as you come down from your high. He presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, your stomach, slowly making his way back up your body.

He looks up at you, eyes glinting with desire, feeling an overwhelming urge to mark this moment forever—the way you look, the way you sound. He nods, as if promising to deliver everything you crave, and rises to lean over you again, capturing your lips with his. The kiss is searing, a desperate scramble of breaths and desires as your tongues entwine. You taste like the rapture, but the taste of your tears sends shockwaves of terror through him. Jihoon knows he is a sinner – but if the road to hell tastes as sweet as you, he’ll make the journey a thousand times over.  

Breaking the kiss, Jihoon reaches for his jeans, hastily shedding that last barrier between you. His heart races as he positions himself at your entrance, locking eyes with you in a moment that feels monumental. “Are you sure?” he asks again, the weight of the question lingering between you like a promise, an invitation. 

There are tears in your eyes when you take one of his hands in yours, guiding it to rest against your cheek. “Yes,” you whisper, your heart racing in tandem with his. The certainty in your voice ignites a fire within him, erasing every doubt that dared to linger. “I want this. I want you.”

With those words, Jihoon feels something inside him break and reform. He enters you slowly, savoring every inch, every sensation. The feeling is overwhelming, almost spiritual in its intensity. Your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, meant to be joined. He stills for a moment, forehead pressed against yours, breathing heavily.

"You feel incredible," he breathes, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. The moan that escapes your lips is the sweetest sound Jihoon has ever heard. He begins to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm. Each thrust feels like coming home, like finding a piece of himself he never knew was missing.

Your hands roam his back, nails digging in slightly as the pleasure builds. Jihoon kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans. He wants to memorize every sound, every expression, every sensation.

Jihoon's hips snap forward, and you cry out, arching beneath him. He feels drunk on the sounds you make, on the way your body responds to his. The room is filled with the sound of skin against skin, of ragged breaths and soft moans. Jihoon can't tear his eyes away from your face, watching as pleasure washes over you in waves. Your skin is flushed, a light sheen of sweat making you glow in the dim light. He can't take his eyes off you, mesmerized by the way your lips part with each thrust, the way your eyes flutter closed in ecstasy.

"Look at me," he whispers, his voice rough with desire. "I want to see you."

Your eyes open, meeting his gaze. The intensity of the moment is almost too much to bear. Jihoon feels exposed, vulnerable, but he can't look away. He sees everything in your eyes - the pleasure, the guilt, the overwhelming desire. It's a mirror of his own emotions, and it threatens to consume him. Your hands cup his face, pulling him down for a kiss that's both tender and desperate. Jihoon's hips stutter, his rhythm faltering as he loses himself in the taste of your lips. He feels your walls tightening around him, knows you're close.

"Jihoon," you gasp, breaking the kiss. "I'm close..."

He nods, understanding. His hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit. He circles it with his thumb, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Come for me," he urges, his voice low and husky. "Let me see you fall apart."

Your body responds to his words, to his touch. You're trembling beneath him, teetering on the edge of bliss. Jihoon watches in awe as pleasure washes over you. Your back arches, pressing your chest against his. Your walls clench around him, pulsing with your release. The sight of you coming undone, combined with the feeling of you tightening around him, pushes Jihoon over the edge.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his groan as his hips stutter, driving deep as he spills inside you. For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you, bodies intertwined, breaths mingling.

As the waves of pleasure subside, reality begins to creep back in. Jihoon lifts his head, meeting your gaze. There's a mix of emotions in your eyes - satisfaction, affection, and a hint of guilt. He knows his own expression must mirror yours.

Slowly, carefully, he pulls out and lies beside you on the narrow couch. You turn to face him, and he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face. The gesture is tender, intimate in a way that makes his heart ache. Just tonight, he reminds himself. Only for tonight.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, searching your face for any sign of regret.

Your tears start anew, and Jihoon swears he can hear his own heart crumbling. “Fuck,” you whimper, pulling at the ends of your hair. “Fuck! Jihoon, what did we just do?”

His body aches for you, his soul hungers for yours, but all he can offer is his embrace as he held you close against his chest. He can feel your tears, hot and guilt-ridden, and he feels like he’s just made the biggest mistake in the world.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his own tears falling onto your hair.

Sleep comes slowly, hours later, as the night ends and the next morning begins. It takes him hours to calm your breathing, to soothe your tears, to coax you into a fitful sleep.

He’s sure he’ll never sleep again.

But when he wakes, you’re gone - every trace of you that he had tried so desperately to memorize has been wiped clean from his apartment. It was as if you had never been there at all.

This is what hell feels like, Jihoon thinks to himself.

In the dark, Jihoon learned how to break you apart and build you back together — but in the harsh light of day, it’s him that’s left broken. 

[thedensworld]

How Love Letter Works | LJh

Pairing: Producer-Idol Jihoon! x Producer Reader!

Genre: fluff, crush to lovers au!

Summary: Jihoon watched you grown, from a trainee to a co-producer. So, a love confession would be the last thing he expected.

Jihoon was the co-producer for your debut project. For six intense months, he observed you and the other trainees with a sharp, discerning eye. From the very beginning, he was certain you would make it into the debut line. It was like watching a reflection of his younger self — the grit, the passion, the unwavering determination. Every week during your progress presentations, he saw it more clearly. This one’s different, he thought. This one’s special.

You were destined to debut in Pledis’s new girl group. No one could convince him otherwise. He could already picture it — you shining on stage, a star in the making.

That’s why the news hit him so hard. It came when he was in the middle of a world tour, just a month before the official debut announcement. The call came from Soonyoung, his teammate, who shared his belief in you. Jihoon could still hear the disappointment in Soonyoung’s voice as he delivered the news.

"Y/n didn’t make it."

At first, Jihoon didn’t believe it. No, that’s impossible. He didn’t even think before calling Bumzu, the main producer for the project. His voice was sharp, urgent. "What happened?" he demanded. "She was supposed to debut. We all saw it."

On the other end of the line, Bumzu sighed. "We fought for her, Jihoon. We really did. But the executives had other plans."

Other plans? Jihoon’s chest tightened with frustration. His grip on the phone grew tense. "Then what was the point of all of this? What was the point of that project if the decision was already made?"

The room around him fell silent. His members stopped what they were doing, eyes wide with surprise. For the first time in a long time, they saw him lose his composure. Jihoon was known for being calm, collected, and focused. But this? This was something else.

The call ended, but the bitterness lingered. He told himself it would be the last time he ever saw potential like yours — raw, undeniable, and destined for greatness. It was a rare thing to witness, and losing it felt like a personal defeat.

Time moved on. Tours, albums, and schedules blurred together. Three years passed in what felt like a flash. Jihoon was still at the heart of the industry, a powerhouse behind the scenes and on stage.

But then, something unexpected happened.

One morning, during a production team meeting, the Team Leader stood at the front of the room, introducing a new producer. Jihoon barely glanced up at first, focused on his notes.

"Everyone, please welcome our newest producer, Ji Y/N."

The name struck him like a jolt of electricity. Slowly, he lifted his head, eyes narrowing in disbelief. And there you were. Standing at the front of the room with the same fire in your eyes that he remembered from three years ago. But this time, you weren’t a trainee. You weren’t just potential. You were standing on equal ground.

His heart swelled with something between pride and awe. She made it after all, he thought. Not in the way anyone had expected, but perhaps in a way that was even better.

Because now, you were the one calling the shots.

You were the main producer for the very group that had debuted without you. The irony wasn’t lost on anyone, least of all Jihoon. Sometimes, as he watched you from across the studio, he wondered if there was any bitterness left in you. Did it still hurt? he wondered. You were supposed to be with them — on stage, in the spotlight. But here you were, behind the glass, calling the shots.

If there was resentment, you never showed it. You were focused, sharp, and commanding in every session, your presence undeniable. The idols who had once been your fellow trainees now hung on your every word, adjusting their notes and vocals the moment you gave feedback. You had become the kind of leader that even Jihoon had to respect.

It was during one of these sessions that Bumzu, ever playful, leaned back in his chair after listening to the final notes of your demo. His eyebrows lifted in exaggerated surprise.

"Is it even possible to create something like this?" he teased, shooting you a look of mock disbelief.

Jihoon glanced up from his notebook, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He clapped his hands slowly, his eyes glinting with pride and amusement.

Caught off guard, you burst into laughter, cheeks heating up. You tugged your hoodie over your face, as if that could somehow hide you from the praise. "Ah, stop it!" you groaned, voice muffled under the fabric.

But neither Bumzu nor Jihoon stopped. They kept clapping, grinning like they'd just witnessed something legendary.

"Don’t be shy now, Y/n," Bumzu called out, eyes crinkling with mischief. "A genius should never hide."

Jihoon leaned back, still watching you with that quiet, thoughtful gaze. You were no longer the trainee fighting for a spot on the debut line. You were a producer, a creator, and a force that couldn’t be ignored. If there was ever any bitterness in her, she turned it into something greater, he thought, his smirk softening into something warmer.

Pride was a strange feeling for him, but at that moment, he felt it all the same.

"I’ll leave the lyrics to Jihoon. I trust him," Bumzu said with a playful grin, tapping Jihoon on the shoulder before stretching his arms and heading for the door.

"Don’t let us down, genius," Bumzu added over his shoulder, his teasing tone echoing through the studio as the door clicked shut behind him.

You shifted in your seat, glancing at Jihoon with a hint of hesitation. "Sorry for bothering you with this," you said, fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of your hoodie. It wasn’t easy for you to ask for help, but for this project, you’d made an exception. Jihoon’s lyricism had always been something you admired, and you knew he could bring out the soul of the song in ways few others could.

Jihoon tilted his head, eyes crinkling in gentle amusement. "Don’t mention it," he said, his voice calm but sincere. "I’m happy I can help."

He reached for a stack of papers on the table, tapping them into a neat pile before holding them out to you. "Let’s start with this," he said, sliding the freshly revised lyrics toward you.

You leaned forward, eyes scanning the words with quiet intensity. Each line felt like it had weight, every phrase deliberate. There were subtle changes — words swapped for stronger imagery, rhythms that hit with more precision. You recognized his touch immediately.

"These are... really good," you admitted, glancing at him with a look of awe. "It feels like it hits harder now."

Jihoon shrugged, but you didn’t miss the faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "That’s the goal," he replied, tapping his pen against the edge of the table. His gaze shifted toward you, eyes steady but kind. "But if anything feels off, we can rework it. I want it to feel yours."

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard for a moment. You nodded, warmth blooming quietly in your chest. "Then let’s make it ours," you said with a small smile, lifting the paper as if it were something precious.

"But how did you even think of this?" you asked, eyes still fixed on the lyrics in front of you. Awe colored your voice as you traced the words with your fingertips. "I really like the theme — love letter. It’s so perfect."

Jihoon leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen thoughtfully against the table. "Flutter," he said simply, his gaze distant like he was replaying a memory. "When I heard the demo for the first time, it felt like that... like the feeling you get when you read a love letter."

His words hung in the air for a moment, soft but powerful. It was the kind of thing that lingered in your mind, making you pause just to feel it a little longer.

But then, as if catching himself, Jihoon shook his head and waved his hand dismissively, brushing away the atmosphere he had just created — as if he wasn’t the one who had built it in the first place. "Anyway, it’s nothing deep," he said with a small, self-conscious chuckle.

You glanced at him, catching the faint smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t just a random idea — that much was obvious. There was something familiar in the way he spoke about it, like he was remembering something personal.

His gaze flickered briefly to the side, his fingers tapping a quiet rhythm on the table. Flutter, he’d said. The same feeling that stirred in him every time he’d read the love letters he’d received years ago. Letters he could still recall, word for word.

You tilted your head, watching him with quiet curiosity. "It’s not nothing, you know," you said softly. "You can feel it in the lyrics. It’s real."

Jihoon glanced at you, his eyes lingering for just a moment longer than usual. Then, with a faint shrug, he looked back at the paper. "If it feels real, then we’re on the right track," he muttered, but the small smile that stayed on his face told you that, maybe, he was feeling that same flutter all over again.

*

You heard it — fluttering. You weren’t sure what Jihoon was implying, but everything about it seemed to point to the theme: Love Letter.

Back at your home studio, you sat in your chair, the lyrics you’d revised with Jihoon resting in your hands. Your eyes traced each word, but your mind was somewhere else. You leaned back with a heavy sigh, letting the weight of everything settle over you. How did we get here? You and Jihoon — now equals. It felt surreal. Time had flown faster than you realized.

Memories crept in like old songs on replay. You remembered him during your trainee days — strict but attentive. He’d been one of the hardest people to impress, and somehow, that made you work even harder. You poured everything into every performance, every evaluation, every moment. Not just for yourself, but for him. To make him see you. To be seen by him.

That feeling... it should have disappeared once you stepped into this building as a producer. You were no longer a trainee chasing approval. You were his peer now. But somehow, it lingered. It always lingered.

Your hand drifted toward your desk, fingers brushing over a familiar object. A letter. The paper was worn, its edges soft from age, a faint coffee stain marking one corner. It had been with you for years — a quiet reminder of something you never quite let go of. You’d taken care of it like it was precious. Like your feelings for him. Feelings that never faded, no matter how much you told yourself they would.

Your fingers traced the edges of the letter, and your heart thudded louder in your chest. It had been like this since earlier — ever since Jihoon mentioned it.

"Flutter. Like the feeling you get when you read a love letter."

Your breath caught in your throat. Your heart, which was already unsteady around him, felt even more chaotic now. It had been this way for years. Back then, when you were just a trainee, it had been worse. You’d poured all those wild, uncontrollable feelings into letters. Handwritten confessions only meant for him.

How many had you written? How many had you left behind, hoping, wishing, praying he would notice? You always knew he would. He’s Jihoon, after all. He noticed everything.

He noticed when you were in pain during the monthly evaluations, his sharp gaze catching the smallest wince. He noticed when you had a cold during recording, quietly leaving a warm drink on the table near you. He even noticed when you cut your hair, commenting on it so casually like it was nothing, but it had stayed with you for weeks.

Of course, he’d notice a love letter.

And you’d been so careful. Leaving them just where you knew he would find them — near the practice room where he passed by, tucked on the edge of the table in the recording studio. He’d see them. He had to have seen them.

But did he read them?

Your eyes flickered back to the lyrics in your hand.

"Flutter. Like the feeling you get when you read a love letter."

Your fingers tightened around the paper as your heart pounded harder. Did he read them?

And if he did... did he know they were from you?

You put the letter back in its place. He’ll never know.

He’d never know about any of it — not the words you’d carefully written, not the feelings you’d poured into every stroke of your pen, and certainly not about the last letter. The one you never sent.

You had been so sure. So sure. You thought you’d make it into the debut line. Everyone did. That’s why you prepared that final letter — the one that would reveal your identity, the one that would tell him everything. After the announcement, you planned to hand it to him yourself. No more hiding behind anonymous words. No more waiting.

But reality had other plans.

The news hit you like a storm you hadn’t seen coming. They didn’t debut you. They said you were too old to debut.

Too old.

The words echoed in your mind, hollow and cutting. You’d spent years giving everything to this dream, only for it to be reduced to two cold, dismissive words.

They didn’t stop there, though. No, they had another plan. They offered you a contract — not as an idol, but as a producer. The group’s producer. They mentioned how much they liked the song you’d composed during the project and said they wanted to release it as part of the group’s debut album.

But you were too angry to listen. Too hurt to consider it. You walked away.

For a while, you told yourself that walking away was your only option. You told yourself you had every right to be angry, that you’d been wronged. Unfair didn’t even begin to describe it. You’d fought so hard, only to be told that you weren’t enough. It was a wound too deep for logic to mend.

But wounds don’t stay open forever. Time has its way of softening even the sharpest edges.

Eventually, you realized something important — there was nothing you could do to change the past. No amount of anger or regret would make them call your name as part of that debut lineup.

When they reached out to you again, it wasn’t an apology, but it was an offer. A chance.

This time, you considered it. Not for them. Not for their approval. For you.

You accepted the role as the group’s producer.

And with it, you walked into that building again — older, wiser, and stronger than you’d ever been. No longer chasing someone else’s dream, but building your own.

*

Jihoon glanced away from the computer screen as the sound of the door opening caught his attention. His eyes softened at the sight of you walking in, balancing a plastic bag in one hand and a tray of coffees in the other. You’d texted him earlier, saying you’d bring something as a sign of gratitude for his help with the lyrics.

"You really didn’t have to do this," Jihoon said, getting up from his chair and settling on the couch across from you.

"I know," you replied with a grin, pulling out the contents of the bag. Cans of Coke, takeout food, snacks, and the coffees you’d promised. "But Bumzu oppa’s coming later, and I figured it’d be nice to have something for all of us."

Jihoon raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, watching as you neatly arranged everything on the table.

It was time to play the final demo — the one you’d be submitting to the production team. This was the moment that all the effort had been building up to. Jihoon and Bumzu had both contributed to it, so they were eager to give it one last listen.

"Should we play it?" Jihoon asked, looking over at you.

"Already sent it to you," you replied, tapping your phone with a small smile.

Jihoon pulled it up and hit play. The room filled with the melody you’d spent weeks perfecting. He listened intently, his eyes focused but his face honest, reacting naturally to every detail. His nose scrunched up whenever a particularly "cool" part played — a habit you’d noticed over time.

"It's your voice, huh?" he teased, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. "It's gonna be tough to direct them to sing it like you."

You laughed, half-embarrassed, half-flattered. "Well, they’ll just have to try their best, won’t they?"

When the song reached its bridge, Jihoon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He nodded along, eyes flickering with something close to pride. "Let me be honest with you," he said as he cracked open a can of Coke, "you’re really good at writing."

Your cheeks warmed as you popped a piece of food into your mouth, trying to downplay your smile. "Coming from an amazing lyricist like you, oppa, that means a lot. Thank you."

Jihoon shook his head, chuckling softly. "No, I’m serious. When you suggested that line — 'tearing all the tears as the ink, they won't be flowing when you’re with me' — I swear, I felt like I was sitting next to Kahlil Gibran."

Your eyes widened in shock, and you immediately waved him off, face flushing. "No way, don’t say that! You’re exaggerating!" you protested, but the laughter that escaped you betrayed how happy the compliment made you feel.

Just then, the door swung open, and Bumzu entered, already bopping his head to the rhythm of the demo still playing. He grinned as his eyes landed on the spread of food on the table.

"Are we having a feast or what?" he asked, rubbing his hands together as he walked in.

"Don’t get too comfortable," Jihoon warned, shaking his head as he took a sip of his Coke.

But Bumzu had other plans. His eyes lit up mischievously as he pulled out his phone. "I’m ordering alcohol!" he declared with far too much enthusiasm.

"You’re not serious," Jihoon sighed, already feeling the weight of the night ahead.

But judging by the grin on Bumzu's face, it was too late to stop him.

Jihoon glanced at you, a resigned smile tugging at his lips. "Looks like it’s gonna be a long day."

"Or a long night," you added with a playful grin, taking another sip of your coffee.

Jihoon sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at the empty spot where Bumzu had been just a few minutes ago. That hyung… he thought, his frustration barely contained.

Bumzu had a well-known habit of disappearing whenever he got too drunk. He’d leave behind everything — his wallet, his coat, his phone, sometimes even his shoes — and vanish faster than anyone could react. By the time they noticed, it was too late to call him back. It was almost like a magic trick. But this time, he’d left more than his belongings. He’d left you.

Jihoon glanced over at the studio couch, where you lay sprawled out, humming a familiar tune. It took him a second to recognize it, but then it clicked — it was a song you’d sung during your trainee days. He remembered it vividly because he’d been one of the monitors back then. You’d poured so much heart into that performance, and he could still picture you on that small stage, eyes fierce with determination. Seeing you like this now, eyes hazy and limbs limp, made him feel strangely nostalgic.

“Y/n, you need to go home,” he said, keeping his tone gentle but firm as he pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his contacts, searching for someone who might know your address. If he could get ahold of them, he’d call a cab and have them send you home.

“Don’t wanna,” you mumbled, turning your face into the cushions. Your voice was muffled, but the stubbornness was clear.

Jihoon exhaled a soft laugh. It was his first time seeing you drunk, and honestly, it wasn’t too different from how you acted when you were exhausted from practice. Stubborn, a little pouty, but somehow still cute. The only difference now was that you didn’t seem to recognize who was in front of you.

“I already ordered a cab,” he said patiently, crouching down to meet your eye level. “When it gets here, make sure you tell the driver your address, okay?”

You blinked at him, squinting as if trying to identify him through a fog. “Who… are you again?”

Jihoon sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. Here we go again.

“It’s me, Jihoon,” he said, reaching out to pull you into a sitting position. “Come on, let’s head down to the lobby. I’ll find someone to help me get you in the cab.”

You didn’t resist, though your body was like a ragdoll in his hands. Your legs wobbled like jelly, and he had to wrap his arm firmly around your waist to steady you. You leaned into him more than necessary, head resting on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You sound like Jihoon oppa…” you mumbled, voice slurred but still clear enough for him to catch.

Jihoon snorted. “That’s because I am Jihoon.”

You gasped dramatically, pulling back just far enough to look at him with wide, incredulous eyes. “No way! Jihoon oppa’s too busy to be here.” You squinted at him, face scrunched in deep suspicion. “He’s busy. All the time.”

Jihoon shook his head, thoroughly amused. “You know I’m standing right here, right?”

You ignored him completely, eyes distant as if you were lost in your own world. “He’s busy,” you continued softly, like you were talking to yourself. “He’s hardworking. I like him…”

Jihoon froze.

His grip on you stayed firm, but his feet stopped moving.

What did you just say?

He blinked, waiting to see if you’d repeat it.

You didn’t notice. You just kept talking, gaze unfocused, voice as light as a feather drifting in the air. “He’s emotionally intelligent too… His songs are beautiful. Just like his personality.” You sighed dreamily, leaning on him a little more as your eyes fluttered closed. “I like him.”

Jihoon’s heart did something strange — a sharp thud followed by an odd, weightless feeling in his chest.

Did you… just say you like me?

He stared at you, his brain struggling to keep up with what he’d just heard. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He didn’t even know what to say.

Suddenly, the elevator doors at the end of the hallway slid open, revealing Soonyoung. His wide, curious eyes zeroed in on the sight of Jihoon half-holding, half-carrying you down the hall.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Soonyoung said, stepping out with a dramatic point in Jihoon’s direction. “What is this? You got her drunk? You don’t even drink!”

“Please,” Jihoon muttered, already feeling the headache coming on.

“What happened to her?” Soonyoung asked, stepping closer, his expression twisting with mock suspicion. “Don’t tell me you two—”

“It was Bumzu hyung,” Jihoon cut in, glaring at him. “He disappeared like he always does. Left everything behind, including her.” He adjusted his grip on you, trying to keep you upright.

Soonyoung tilted his head, eyeing you both like he was still trying to piece it all together. Then he grinned, mischief practically radiating from him. “Well, well, well,” he teased, his grin only growing wider. “Need help, Romeo?”

Jihoon shot him a look that could freeze fire. “Don’t start.”

“Fine, fine,” Soonyoung said with a laugh, hands raised in mock surrender. “I’ll help you get her to the cab.”

With Soonyoung’s help, Jihoon managed to get you into the back seat of the cab. The driver asked for your address, but Jihoon glanced at you, still half-asleep, lips barely moving as you mumbled something incoherent.

“I’ll send it to him,” Jihoon said, already pulling out his phone to text the driver the address.

“You sure you don’t want a ride back, Jihoon-ah?” Soonyoung offered, leaning his arm on the open car door. “I can drop you off.”

“Nah,” Jihoon said, still glancing at you as the driver confirmed the address. “I need to walk.”

“Pfft, walk? You sound like an old man,” Soonyoung teased, slapping Jihoon’s back.

“Go home, bye,” Jihoon grumbled, waving him off.

Once the cab drove away, Jihoon stood still for a moment, letting the cool night air wash over him.

I like him.

Her words echoed in his mind, circling like a melody on repeat. He rubbed his hands together slowly, eyes on the sidewalk ahead of him.

He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and started walking, his breath coming out in small clouds in the cold air. No one else was around, and the only sound was the soft crunch of his sneakers on the pavement.

His heart thudded in his chest, steadier now but still louder than usual.

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He walked slowly, taking his time. He needed the fresh air, sure. But more than that, he needed time to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him.

Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop replaying your voice in his mind.

I like him.

*

The next morning, you sent Jihoon a text.

"Thank you for getting me home safely, oppa."

You didn’t remember much from that night, only flashes of you leaning on someone and the faint scent of his familiar cologne. Since you’d heard Bumzu vanished early as usual, it had to be Jihoon who took care of you. Still, knowing how busy he was, you didn’t expect a reply. Instead, you quickly busied yourself with work, pushing the lingering embarrassment aside.

A few days later, you were knee-deep in packing boxes. You were preparing to move to a new apartment, one closer to the company, which would make commuting easier. With help from a couple of friends, the packing went faster than expected. They chatted and teased you as you sorted through your things.

“Hey, what’s this?” one of your friends asked, reaching for a small, worn-out envelope sitting on the corner of your desk.

Your heart jumped in panic. You rushed over, snatching it before she could take a closer look. “Ah, it’s nothing,” you said quickly, slipping it into your bag.

“Suspicious~” she sang, narrowing her eyes playfully.

“It’s nothing important,” you insisted, shoving it deep into your bag.

Your phone buzzed on the table, drawing you out of your thoughts. It was a message from Jihoon.

"Any update on your latest song?"

You quickly typed a reply.

"Not yet, but I’m sure they’ll accept it soon. They’ve been slow lately."

The production team was notorious for taking their time, so you weren’t too worried. Besides, you were currently caught up in another project with a different artist, and following up with the production team wasn’t your priority.

Just as you were about to put your phone away, another text from Jihoon popped up.

"I want to discuss a song with you. Are you free now?"

You glanced at the mess of boxes around you and snapped a quick photo.

"I’m moving out!"

This time, Jihoon didn’t text back. He called.

Your eyes widened as you stared at the screen. He’s calling me? Jihoon rarely called, even when it was urgent. Curious, you picked up.

“Hello?” you answered.

“You’re moving? To where?” His voice was clear and steady, but there was an undertone of surprise.

You explained your new place, telling him it was just a short walk from the company. It was more convenient and would save you time commuting to work.

“That’s great,” Jihoon said, his tone sounding warmer than usual. “I live around that area too.”

“Really?” you asked, a little surprised.

“Yeah, we’ll be neighbors,” he said with a chuckle.

For some reason, the thought of living close to him made you feel oddly self-conscious.

“By the way,” you added, feeling a bit braver now, “how did you know my address that night? I don’t remember giving it to you. I’m so sorry for the trouble!”

You cringed as you recalled the fuzzy details of that night. The idea of him seeing you in a drunken, messy state made you want to disappear. He doesn't even drink, and I was a whole disaster.

His soft laughter rumbled through the phone, and you felt your face heat up.

“I got it from HR,” he admitted, still chuckling. “I basically terrorized him until he gave it to me since you wouldn’t say a word.”

You gasped in shock, both at his method and at the mental image of Jihoon pestering HR. “You did what?!”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t break any rules… I think,” he teased, his voice laced with mischief. “I had to make sure you got home safely.”

Your chest warmed, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you for that,” you said softly.

“Don’t mention it,” Jihoon replied, his voice quieter now, like he’d tilted his head against the phone.

After a brief pause, you brought up the song. “About the song you wanted to discuss, I can stop by your studio tonight if that works for you.”

“Not necessary,” Jihoon said firmly. “I should be the one going to your studio. I’m the one asking for help.”

A laugh escaped you. This guy and his principles…

“Alright,” you agreed. “I’ll be at the company around 8. I’ll text you when I’m there.”

“Got it,” he replied. “See you then.”

The call ended, but the lingering warmth from his voice stayed with you. You glanced at the boxes scattered around the room and then at your bag — the one with that letter hidden inside.

*

Jihoon wasn’t sure when it started. At first, it was subtle — small changes that no one, not even he, noticed. It might have been the day you casually explained your creative process to him.

“You do what?” he asked, his brows raised in mild disbelief.

“I create a mind map,” you explained as you scribbled on a large whiteboard, drawing lines to connect scattered concepts and ideas. “Then, I gather samples that match the vibe. It helps me stay focused when I start composing the beat.”

Jihoon leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching you with quiet fascination. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the logic behind it — it’s just that he’d never bother to do it. He’d always gone straight into producing, trusting his instincts to guide him. But the way you did it… it was methodical yet creative, disciplined yet free.

“There’s always a reason why you’re a genius,” you muttered, focused on sketching another connection on the board.

He blinked, surprised by your words, and then chuckled softly. “You mean because I’m lazy?”

You nodded, grinning at him from behind the whiteboard. “Exactly.”

For some reason, that moment stuck with him.

A week later, Seungkwan walked into Jihoon's studio with a cup of iced Americano for him — only to freeze in shock. Jihoon was standing at the whiteboard. Jihoon. At a whiteboard.

“What… is this?” Seungkwan asked, his eyes squinting like he was seeing an illusion.

“Mind mapping,” Jihoon replied casually, drawing another circle on the board and labeling it "Bridge Vibe — Sentimental, but not cheesy.”

Seungkwan gawked at him. “Who are you? And what have you done to Lee Jihoon?”

Jihoon just smirked and said nothing.

But that wasn’t all. Slowly but surely, the changes started piling up.

One day, Seungcheol walked past Jihoon’s studio and did a double-take. Jihoon was… eating dessert? A strawberry shortcake.

“Jihoon, you good?” Seungcheol asked, leaning on the doorframe, arms folded.

“Hmm?” Jihoon didn’t even glance up, scooping up another bite of cake while scrolling through his phone. “Yeah, why?”

“Dessert. You’re eating dessert.” Seungcheol’s voice was filled with suspicion, like he was trying to uncover a secret mission.

Jihoon raised a brow, slowly lifting his gaze from his phone. “And?”

“And you don’t eat dessert.”

“People change, hyung,” Jihoon muttered, stuffing another bite into his mouth.

“People change, but this much?” Seungcheol muttered to himself as he walked away, still glancing back every few steps like he’d just seen a cat bark.

The biggest shock, however, came when Jihoon suddenly registered for a shooting practice course. Yes, shooting. With a real gun.

Jeonghan was the first to hear about it. “You’re lying,” he deadpanned as he sipped his coffee in the practice room.

“Swear on my solo album,” Seungkwan replied, eyes wide with disbelief. “I’m serious. Jihoon-hyung signed up for it. I even saw the receipt.”

“Why?” Joshua asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Seungkwan exclaimed, waving his arms like a detective on a dramatic reveal. “Jihoon. With a gun. Do you know how dangerous that is for us? He already has that death glare.”

“It’s always the quiet ones,” Jeonghan muttered, rubbing his temple. “The quiet ones are the scariest.”

When Jihoon casually walked into practice later, everyone’s eyes were on him. It wasn’t unusual for him to receive attention, but this time it was different. They were looking at him like he was a time bomb.

“What?” Jihoon asked, his eyes darting between them.

“Are you going through something?” Jeonghan asked cautiously, stepping forward like he was about to have a serious intervention.

“Do we need to talk, hyung?” Seungkwan chimed in, his voice filled with the kind of concern, reserve for someone about to shave their head or move to another country.

Jihoon gave them both a blank stare. “No.”

“Then why are you suddenly into guns?”

“Hobby.”

The room went silent.

“Since when do you pick up hobbies?” Seungkwan whispered dramatically.

Jihoon ignored them, walking straight to his spot in the practice room. He put down his bag and pulled out his phone. But as he scrolled, he caught himself smiling. He thought of you showing him how to gather "inspiration" from unusual places. "Do something new. It'll help you create." That’s what you’d told him once. He didn’t think much of it then, but somehow, it got to him.

The changes didn’t stop.

Some days, he’d leave his studio just to walk to a nearby cafe. Normally, he’d stay locked in his workspace for hours, only emerging to grab a quick meal. But these days, he’d grab a coffee, pick up your favorite dessert, and drop it off at your studio.

“Brought you this,” he’d say, setting it down on your desk like it was no big deal.

“Thanks, oppa!” you’d chirp, smiling brightly. He’d linger for a moment, watching you open it with childlike excitement. But before you could say anything else, he’d wave it off like it was no big deal. “Alright, I’m going back.”

It became a routine. Occasionally, he'd sit with you for a bit. Not as a co-producer, but as a friend. He’d watch as you flipped through manhwa on your tablet, eyes focused but relaxed.

“What’s that?” he asked once, tilting his head.

“A new series,” you replied, not even looking away. “You’d like it. It's about a musician who time-travels to fix his regrets.”

Jihoon raised a brow, interest piqued. “Sounds cheesy.”

“It’s not. The writer knows their stuff,” you said, eyes still glued to the screen.

He glanced at it once, intending to leave. But then he sat down. One episode turned into two. Before he knew it, you were both huddled on the couch, scrolling through each new chapter together.

“Next chapter’s locked,” you muttered, annoyed.

“Here,” Jihoon said, tapping his phone. “I’ll unlock it.”

You looked up, wide-eyed. “Oppa, did you just buy coins for a manhwa?”

He blinked, realization dawning on him. “...Yeah.”

The two of you stared at each other. Then, laughter. It echoed in the studio like bells, crisp and light.

“You’re not yourself lately, oppa.” you teased, nudging his side.

He glanced at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m not.”

Jihoon didn’t notice stares or whispered theories. He was too busy trying to figure out when he’d started picking up your habits. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but somehow, those little details had wormed their way into his life. The desserts, the manhwa breaks, the habit of sketching ideas before starting a track — they’d all become part of his process.

But it wasn’t just that.

He liked the way your voice sounded when you explained your reasoning for a certain sample choice. He liked how you hummed unconsciously when you were in the zone. He liked that you talked to him as a person, not just as "Woozi"

He... liked you.

But that was a realization he wasn’t quite ready to face yet.

Weeks later, Jihoon found himself staring at you. You were in the recording booth, headphones on, singing one of his demos meant for another female artist. The glow of the studio lights softened your features, and your focused expression drew him in more than it should have. His music engineer called his name, snapping him out of his thoughts, but Jihoon's eyes lingered on you for a moment longer. You glanced up through the glass, catching his gaze, and he quickly looked away, hoping you hadn't noticed.

"Are you okay, oppa? You seem... distracted," your voice crackled through the intercom, gentle but curious.

Jihoon leaned forward, pressing the talk button, masking his flustered state with a calm tone. "I'm fine. Just a bit tired. How about trying that line once more, Y/n?"

You nodded, adjusting your headphones and taking a breath before singing again. Your voice flowed smoothly, each note perfectly placed, your delivery effortless but full of heart. Jihoon leaned back in his chair, arms folded, eyes locked on you as you sang. It was a flawless take, but his mind wasn’t on the technicalities anymore.

He used to feel nothing but pride when hearing your voice — pride in your technique, your breathing, the way you controlled every note with precision. You’d always had that spark, even as a trainee, and he'd seen it from the beginning. Every time he heard you sing, he'd felt it — pride. Just pride.

But now, there was something more.

His chest felt warmer than it should have. The rise and fall of your voice, the slight quiver at the end of a sustained note, the way your eyes stayed focused on the lyrics in front of you — it all felt personal. Intimate. Like you were singing to him, just him, even though it wasn’t even a love song.

His brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. What is this feeling? It wasn’t pride, at least not the kind he was used to. This was something else entirely, something that crept in without permission. His heart felt oddly light, yet unsteady, like it was tiptoeing on a fragile edge.

He glanced at the music engineer, pretending to focus on the control board. But in reality, his mind was stuck on you — your voice, your presence, and that inexplicable warmth spreading in his chest.

Why do I feel like this?

The song ended. You glanced at him, your head tilted, waiting for feedback. He pressed the button again, his voice coming out steadier than he expected. "That was perfect. Let’s keep that take."

"Okay, oppa." You smiled, and for a second, he forgot how to breathe.

His heart did something strange. Something unfamiliar.

Fluttering?

No, that couldn’t be it. It shouldn’t be it. But as you removed your headphones, flashing him one last smile before stepping out of the booth, he knew it was too late to deny it.

He wasn't just proud of you anymore.

He was falling for you.

*

You found yourself in a whirlwind of confusion as your phone buzzed non-stop with notifications. At first, you thought it was some group chat chaos, but it didn't take long to realize it was something much bigger. Your social media follower count had shot up drastically, and it wasn’t slowing down. Annoyed but curious, you muted the notifications and scrolled through the mentions.

One message from a friend caught your eye. It was a link to a short clip from the HYBE Producing Camp Documentary — the event you attended a month ago. It had been a major industry event featuring global producers collaborating with HYBE's own producers and idol-composers. You’d thought nothing of it at the time, just another chance to grow and network. But apparently, that one clip of you had gone viral.

"The Pretty Producer of Sheice."

That was the title plastered across multiple posts and video edits. Clips of you talking, working on a beat, or simply smiling in the background had been cut and edited with captions praising your visuals and youthful look. Comments flooded in.

"She’s so pretty, why isn’t she in the group??"

"She looks younger than some of producers."

"Wait, she's a main producer? Are you kidding me? Goals."

You froze. It wasn’t exactly bad attention, but it felt... off. Too much. Too fast. You immediately put your account on private, heart racing as you reviewed your posts. Thankfully, it was all clean — just travel shots, song credits, and random hangouts with friends. Still, it felt like someone had opened a window into your private life without warning.

The teasing started the moment you walked into the studio.

"Ah, look who's here. The Pretty Producer of Sheice has arrived!" Bumzu announced with a grin as soon as you sat down.

You rolled your eyes, unpacking your laptop. "Don’t start, oppa."

"Oh, but why not? It’s a once-in-a-lifetime title. ‘The Pretty Producer of Sheice’ — it even sounds like a K-drama," he teased, leaning in with a playful smirk. "You should print it on your business card."

You tried to brush it off, but the more you ignored him, the worse it got. Bumzu was relentless when he sensed weakness.

"Honestly, if they’d just put you in the group, you’d have been the visual and the main vocal. What a waste, huh?"

That comment hit deeper than he probably intended. Your eyes lowered, fingers fiddling with the corner of your notepad. The words came out before you could stop them.

"I'm sorry… I didn’t debut," you muttered, your voice quieter than usual.

The shift in mood was immediate. Bumzu blinked, his teasing smile fading into surprise.

"Ah… I didn’t mean it like that," he said, his tone full of regret. "I crossed the line. I’m sorry."

You shook your head quickly, your chest tightening. "No, it’s not you. I should’ve worked harder back then."

Bumzu stared at you for a moment, his jaw tensing like he wanted to argue. He let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "That’s not on you. None of that was on you."

You didn’t respond. There wasn’t anything to say. The past was the past, and no amount of "what ifs" would change it. But guilt was a stubborn companion, one that didn’t leave just because someone told it to.

Bumzu glanced toward the door, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of the conversation. He wasn’t good with serious moments like this, but he cared. You knew that much.

"I’m heading out for a sec," he muttered, walking toward the hall.

As he opened the door, he nearly bumped into Jihoon, who was holding a plastic bag in one hand and his phone in the other. His eyes darted between Bumzu and the room behind him.

"Oh, hyung? Wanna join us for lunch?" Jihoon raised the bag with a light smile, oblivious to the shift in the atmosphere.

Bumzu put a hand on Jihoon’s shoulder, stopping him. "Don’t go in there yet. Give it ten minutes."

Jihoon tilted his head, confused. "Why?"

"Just… trust me." Bumzu gave him a pat on the back before walking off.

Jihoon frowned, glancing toward the studio door, but he didn’t go in. Instead, he leaned against the wall, phone in hand, scrolling mindlessly as he waited. Ten minutes never felt so long.

You pulled your hoodie over your head the moment Jihoon stepped into the studio. Quick and quiet, you shoved the crumpled tissues from the table to the farthest corner, like they could disappear if you just pushed hard enough. You coughed—loud and deliberate—rubbing your nose to sell the act before glancing at him.

"Hey, oppa," you greeted, forcing a casual smile.

Jihoon paused in the doorway, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at you. His gaze lingered on your face longer than usual, like he could see through every little move you’d made to hide yourself.

"You caught a cold?" he asked, stepping further in.

You nodded, still rubbing your nose. "Yeah, but don’t worry, it’s not contagious." You tried to sound convincing, but your voice cracked a little at the end.

Jihoon shrugged, pulling out the food he’d brought along. The faint aroma of warm soup and rice filled the room as he set it on the table. "Should’ve told me. I would’ve gotten you some porridge."

He glanced at you once more before unwrapping the utensils, eyes still cautious, still watchful. You knew that look. Jihoon wasn't the type to press you for answers, but he wasn't clueless either.

"What's up with you and Bumzu hyung?" he asked casually, opening the lid of his soup.

"Nothing serious. Just… song stuff," you mumbled, hoping that would be enough.

Jihoon paused, side-eyeing you as he stirred the soup with his spoon. "Hyung told me to wait outside for ten minutes."

Your eyes twitched, knowing exactly where this was going.

"And I waited," he continued flatly, tilting his head toward you. "So, what's wrong?"

You hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your hoodie sleeves. It was stupid, you thought. No reason to make a big deal out of it. But Jihoon was still staring at you like he had all day to wait.

"He joked about me debuting with Sheice," you finally admitted, eyes locked on the food in front of you. "It was just a joke, but it kind of… crossed the line, I guess."

Jihoon hummed, lips pursed in thought. "Yeah, I could see how that'd be awkward," he said, nodding slowly.

"It’s not like it really bothers me anymore," you said, more to convince yourself than him. "But sometimes I think… maybe he still feels guilty about it. I don’t want him to think he failed me or something. He did everything he could."

Jihoon set his spoon down and leaned back, his eyes on you again. They weren’t sharp this time, just steady. Calm.

"Do you think he still sees you that way?" Jihoon asked.

"I don’t know." You exhaled slowly, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling. "But sometimes, I feel like people still do. Like, they pity me because I didn’t debut. I don't want that." You glanced at him then, something raw in your eyes. "Do you feel sorry for me, oppa?"

Jihoon blinked once, twice, like it was the dumbest question he'd ever heard. He snorted, picking up his spoon again.

"Why would I pity you?" he said simply. "You’re an amazing composer. If anything, I should pity myself for having to compete with you."

That startled a laugh out of you, soft but real. "Compete? With me?"

"Yeah." He raised an eyebrow, smirking a little. "Look at how fast you’ve grown. If we compare how long we’ve both been in the industry, you’re catching up to me too fast."

A grin tugged at your lips, warmth spreading through your chest. "Then, thank you, sunbae," you said with a playful bow, calling him the title of a senior in the industry.

Jihoon waved it off, shaking his head like it physically hurt him. "Don’t do that. Just eat before it gets cold."

You chuckled, grabbing a spoon and opening your own container. The steam hit your face, warm and comforting. You stirred it a little before taking a small sip, sighing at the familiar taste.

"By the way," Jihoon said suddenly, his voice casual but steady. "Debut or no debut, you would’ve been great either way."

You glanced up, caught off guard.

He met your gaze, eyes clear and sure. "You’re too good to be held back by something like that. You're already doing amazing things now."

His words sat in the air for a moment, slow and deliberate, like they were meant to be heard, remembered, and tucked away. Your face felt hot, and it wasn't from the steam rising from the soup.

"Thank you, oppa," you muttered, hiding behind another spoonful of rice.

Jihoon tilted his head, watching you for a second longer before returning to his food. "No need to thank me. Just the truth."

But you kept your head down, eating quietly as your heart thudded a little louder than it should have.

*

Your heart pounded harder with each second, panic settling deep in your chest. You couldn't find it — the letter. The letter that held years of feelings and the one thing you swore you'd never let anyone see.

Your hands tore through your bag for the third time, fingers digging into every pocket, but it wasn’t there. Your breathing quickened. Think. Think. Where did you last have it? Your mind replayed the past few days in flashes.

I put it in my bag, didn’t I?

Your heart felt like it might burst out of your chest. You stood, pacing back and forth in your small apartment before you made a decision. The company. It has to be there.

The moment you stepped into the quiet, dimly lit company building, you felt the weight of the silence pressing on you. It was nearly 3 a.m., the kind of hour where ghosts of mistakes haunted you the loudest. Every creak of your footsteps echoed down the halls as you retraced your daily route. Your eyes scanned the floors like you were searching for a dropped contact lens, desperate for any sign of the letter.

Where could it be?

Panic rose higher. If anyone finds it… You didn’t even want to finish the thought. It wasn’t just your name on that letter. It had his name too.

You stopped walking, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your heart clench. You knew exactly whose name was scrawled inside that letter. Lee Jihoon.

A confession letter. The one you wrote years ago as a trainee but never had the courage to give him. Somehow, instead of throwing it away like a normal, rational person, you kept it like it was some kind of sentimental treasure. A reminder of those fleeting moments when you believed in things like "what if."

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

You squeezed your eyes shut, taking a deep breath. Okay. Think. Where did you take your bag?

Your eyes shot open.

His studio.

Your stomach twisted into a knot. The worst possible place for a lost love letter. If Jihoon found it... No, no, no. Your feet spun you around, and you half-ran, half-speed-walked straight to his studio. The hallway stretched longer than usual, each step filled with growing dread.

Please be unlocked. Please be unlocked.

When you finally arrived, you tried the handle. It didn’t budge. Locked. It meant you couldn’t search, but it also meant he might be the one to find it. You pressed your forehead against the cool metal of the door, closing your eyes as you mumbled, "Why did I have to keep that stupid letter?"

You stayed there for a moment, face buried in your hands. It was too much. If he read it, if he knew you’d been crushing on him for years, you’d never be able to face him again. Forget quitting the company—you'd have to leave the country.

You went home that night but didn’t sleep. Your mind was a constant loop of what ifs and he’s going to find it. You called in sick the next day, and the day after that too. You were too paralyzed with embarrassment to step foot into the company. You lay in bed, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, hoping, praying that no one would text you with "OMG, did you write this?" or "You dropped something important, lol."

But there was silence. No texts from Jihoon. No invites for lunch. No coffee requests. No random desserts dropped off at your studio.

That’s not like him.

Your heart sank.

Was he avoiding you? Did he already find it?

You buried your face in a pillow, letting out a groan so loud it echoed in your small apartment. Why am I like this? You scolded yourself, biting your lip as you tried not to spiral further.

You should’ve burned it. The day they told you that you wouldn’t debut, you should’ve set it on fire and watched it turn to ash. But no, you kept it like a fool, like a keepsake of dreams that were never meant to be.

Tears of frustration pricked at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Instead, you squeezed your eyes shut and let your mind drift to the past, to the day you met Lee Jihoon for the first time.

He wasn’t like the other producers. Everyone knew him as the genius behind Seventeen’s hits, but he didn’t carry himself like someone with that much success. He was humble. He'd visit the trainees during evaluations and offer advice, not just on vocals but on mental strength too. "Don’t be too hard on yourself. Progress isn’t always fast, but it’s still progress," he’d said once, looking right at you.

You remembered that moment too vividly. His eyes were sharp but kind, his tone firm but gentle. He never talked down to any of you, never made anyone feel small. He didn’t have to do that. He didn’t owe anyone his time. But he did it anyway.

That’s when it started, you realized. That’s when I started falling for him.

You had tried to crush it—tried to leave it behind when you left the trainee life. But love, it seemed, was a stubborn thing. It stayed with you. It followed you into every recording session, every lunch break where he'd pop in with a "What are you eating today?" It lingered in every glance you stole at him when he got too caught up in work to notice anyone else was watching.

And now, after all that, he might know.

You let out another groan, curling into a ball on your bed. Please, please, please, don't let him find it. Don't let him know.

But as you lay there, face buried in the blanket, your phone buzzed. You ignored it at first, too emotionally exhausted to care. It buzzed again. You reached out, grabbed it, and squinted at the screen.

It was from Jihoon.

"You feeling better?"

Your heart stopped for a beat. Then, it kicked up double-time.

Is he asking just because I haven’t been in? you wondered. Or is this about the letter?

You stared at the message like it might explode. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, second-guessing every response you could possibly send. Should you pretend nothing was wrong? Should you ask him directly?

Finally, you typed back,

"Yeah, just needed a break. Thanks for checking in."

Your eyes stayed locked on the screen, waiting, dreading, hoping he wouldn’t bring it up. But seconds later, his reply popped up.

"Okay. Come eat with me tomorrow."

Your heart jumped. Does that mean he didn’t find it?

Or worse—did it mean he did find it and was waiting for you to confess?

You flopped back onto the bed, phone on your chest, staring blankly at the ceiling. No sleep for you tonight, that was for sure.

*

“I saw it.”

Jihoon’s words hit you like a bolt of lightning. You froze, your body stiffening as you sat on the couch. Your eyes darted to him, heart thudding so loud it echoed in your ears. He saw it?

“Y-You did?!” you blurted, sitting up so fast you nearly gave him a heart attack. His eyes widened in surprise at your sudden outburst. He hadn’t expected that kind of reaction from you.

Jihoon watched you with mild confusion as you rubbed your face aggressively, letting out a muffled groan that sounded oddly like a character from an anime. Your face was flushed, a deep red spreading across your cheeks, and you refused to meet his eyes.

"You okay? You look kinda… flustered," he asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes scanning you like you might be running a fever.

You sucked in a sharp breath and suddenly shouted, "I am!" Your hands shot into the air in a dramatic fist-pumping motion.

He blinked at you, entirely thrown off by your antics.

"When did you see it?" you asked in a rush, your voice laced with nerves.

"This morning," he replied casually, watching for your reaction.

You groaned like the world was crumbling around you, burying your face in your hands as you muttered something incoherent. Your words came out so fast and garbled that he could barely understand you. It was like you were speaking in fast-forward while trying to sink into the couch cushions to disappear.

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered, peeking out from behind your hands, only to bury yourself back in. "I have no courage to face you. I should've burned it. I should've burned it."

Jihoon blinked in confusion, tilting his head. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

You lifted your head, your eyes wide with a mixture of horror and disbelief. “Don’t act like you don’t know! You saw it! I sent you so many letters before! How could you tell me not to worry after you saw it?!”

“…Letters?” Jihoon leaned back, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. His head tilted as if he was trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces.

He was about to mention your viraled video from the producing camp month ago. He saw it this morning.

"Yes, the letters!" you said, your voice higher than usual. "The ones I used to leave near the bathroom! I sent them for you, Jihoon! For you!"

His eyes squinted as if his brain had finally caught up. Slowly, his eyes widened. "Wait. You were the one sending those letters?"

You didn’t answer, but the silence was all he needed. His gaze shifted to his desk, and then, like a lightbulb switching on, his expression changed. His eyes darted to the small box on his shelf—the one filled with old, unopened envelopes he’d kept for years.

“These?” he asked, walking to the desk and pulling out the box. He lifted it, glancing between you and the letters as realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.

Your eyes widened in horror, your breath caught in your throat. "You kept them?!"

He turned toward you, his lips twitching with something between shock and disbelief. “You mean… these letters were from you?” He opened the box, pulling out one of the older letters, his fingers carefully brushing over the familiar handwriting. He could almost hear your voice in his head now, realizing that the tone of the letters, the way certain phrases were written—it was you. It had always been you.

Jihoon looked back at you, his voice soft with wonder. “All this time… you were the one sending these?”

You buried your face in your hands, your whole body curling into the couch like a ball. Your ears burned red, and you muttered, “Yes, yes, it was me, okay? I’m sorry. I was young and stupid. I thought it was cute back then.” Your voice cracked with embarrassment. “I thought I could be bold through paper, but I couldn’t say a single thing to your face.”

Jihoon blinked, his gaze softening as he stared at you. Her? he thought to himself. All those letters he used to read when he was exhausted, those kind words that gave him strength when he was burnt out. The sender was you. You.

He placed the box on the table and picked up the envelope you'd pulled from under the couch earlier—the one that had started this whole mess, when you realized he wasn't talking about the letter then you had searched for it around his studio. His fingers moved to open it, his eyes darting to you for permission.

You saw his intent and bolted upright. "Wait, don't read that one!" You reached for it, but he quickly lifted it out of reach, his eyes narrowing playfully.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice tinged with amusement now.

"Because!" you yelled, grabbing for it as he lifted it higher. "It's different from the others! Just give it back!"

"Different how?" he teased, still holding it above his head like he was holding candy away from a child. “More heartfelt? More honest?”

“Oppa!” you pleaded, standing on your toes, your hands gripping his arm in desperation.

But it was too late. He had already opened the envelope and pulled out the neatly folded letter. His eyes scanned the page, his playful smirk slowly disappearing with each line he read. His lips parted as his eyes moved slowly across the words, soaking in every single confession, every single feeling you'd buried in the ink.

I’ve liked you since the first day I saw you. I’ve tried to stop, I really did, but you kept being kind. You kept being you.

His heart pounded. His fingers tightened around the paper. His throat felt dry.

If you’re reading this, I’m either braver than I’ve ever been or the most cowardly I’ve ever felt. Because I never had the courage to tell you to your face. So this letter is my last attempt. I’m sorry it took me so long.

Jihoon swallowed the lump in his throat. His heart felt too big for his chest, like it might burst from the sheer weight of what he’d just read.

He looked at you. You stood there, eyes squeezed shut, looking like you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. You were biting your lip, your face still stained red with embarrassment.

"All this time…” he whispered, his eyes never leaving you. “You’ve liked me since then?"

You didn’t answer, didn’t move, didn’t breathe. You just stood there, eyes squeezed shut like a kid waiting for the storm to pass.

“Do you still like me now?” he asked softly, stepping toward you. His voice was so gentle it barely registered at first. It wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t mocking. It was… sincere.

Your eyes slowly opened, and you looked up at him, lips parting in surprise.

He took another step toward you, now close enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence. His eyes searched yours for an answer. “Do you still like me?”

You bit your lip, eyes darting to the side. You’d come this far—might as well jump off the cliff now.

“…Yes,” you whispered. Your eyes flickered back to him like you were bracing for rejection. “I still do.”

For a second, neither of you moved. Silence hung in the air, heavy but not uncomfortable. Jihoon’s gaze softened, his lips tugging into a small, thoughtful smile.

"You're such an idiot," he said with a small laugh, his eyes crinkling with warmth.

Your heart stopped. "Excuse me?!"

"I mean, you could’ve just told me," he said, taking another step forward, so close you had to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. “You think I’m scary or something?”

“Back then, yes!” you blurted, cheeks heating up. “You are Woozi of Seventeen! You were the genius idol-producer. Who was I supposed to be?”

His eyes searched yours like he was seeing you for the first time. “You were you,” he said, his voice so soft it made your breath hitch. His gaze flickered to your lips for a second, then back to your eyes. “And you’re still you.”

He lifted the letter slightly. "Do you want me to burn this?"

You nodded weakly, still not trusting yourself to speak.

"Too bad," he said, tucking it into his pocket.

"Hey—!"

"I’m keeping it," he said firmly, his eyes locking on yours. "I’m keeping all of them."

This time, it was Jihoon’s face that turned a little red. His gaze dropped, but his smile lingered.

“Call it my treasure.”

*

The recording studio buzzed with quiet excitement as the final track of Seventeen’s upcoming album played through the speakers. It was a masterpiece—a blend of styles and sounds that showcased every member’s unique color. But there was something else everyone noticed.

Your name.

There it was, listed as a contributor on almost every track. It wasn’t the first time you’d worked on Seventeen’s albums, but this was different. Your involvement was undeniable, and the members couldn’t resist poking fun at Jihoon for it.

Mingyu leaned back in his chair, his grin wide as ever. “Looks like you don’t need Bumzu hyung anymore, huh?” His voice was full of mischief, his eyes locked on Jihoon.

“I need him!” Jihoon shot back, sitting up straight, his eyes darting toward Bumzu as if to prove his point. “Don’t twist it, Mingyu.”

But it was too late. That one comment had already ignited a chain reaction.

“Yeah, right,” Seungkwan snorted from across the room, his legs kicked up on the armrest of the couch. “Hyung’s been acting brand new ever since she started showing up in the credits.” He made air quotes around she as if it wasn’t already clear who he meant.

“Next thing you know, Jihoon will start writing love songs,” Joshua teased, his smile too innocent to be trustworthy.

“Check the tracklist,” Jeonghan chimed in, scrolling on his phone with a knowing smirk. “He already did.”

The room erupted into laughter. Even Seokmin, who was trying to stay professional, ended up doubling over, clutching his stomach.

Jihoon’s ears turned red almost instantly, and he pressed his back against the couch, arms crossed, sinking as low as possible. “Y’all are so annoying.”

“Oh, we’re annoying?” Soonyoung cackled, standing up to point an accusatory finger at him. “You’ve been humming that one hook for weeks, and I thought it was just some random melody. But nope! Turns out it’s a love letter disguised as a chorus!”

“Shut up.” Jihoon threw a pillow at him, but Soonyoung dodged it with ease, his laughter only getting louder.

Mingyu, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned forward on the table, resting his chin in his hands like he was about to spill some tea. “I mean, it makes sense now. Y’know, after that news.”

Everyone knew exactly what that was.

It had been months since Soonyoung made his now-infamous declaration in their group chat. He sent a long written-text claimed it by TigerNews, complete with a dramatic “🔥BREAKING NEWS🔥” articles in their group chat.

Soonyoung had 'officially announced' the relationship with a fake headline that read, 'Seventeen’s Woozi and Rising Producer Y/N Confirm Relationship in Exclusive Interview with TigerNews' — complete with dramatic quotes and a grainy, zoomed-in photo of you two at the company cafe.

The chat had gone wild. Memes were shared. Jokes were made. No one was spared.

“Congratulations, Romeo and Juliet!”

Minghao had typed with so many heart emojis it made the whole chat lag.

“Don’t embarrass them, hyung.”

Seungkwan had written right after, only to follow up with,

“Actually, never mind. EMBARRASS THEM.”

Needless to say, the teasing had been relentless ever since.

“Honestly,” Jeonghan drawled, flipping his phone like it was nothing, “this whole time, I was suspicious. My detective work was getting exhausting.”

“Detective work?” Seokmin scoffed. “You were just being nosy.”

“And I was right,” Jeonghan fired back, tossing a gummy bear into his mouth with a triumphant grin.

Back in the present, Bumzu leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his eyes locked on Jihoon. Unlike the others, his teasing had a sharper edge. "He actually does need me," Bumzu said with a grin so sly it could cut glass.

“See?” Jihoon pointed at him like Bumzu was his last lifeline. “Exactly!”

But Bumzu wasn’t done. “He needs me to make sure he keeps his hands to himself.”

The entire room went silent for half a second before absolute chaos broke loose. Seungkwan’s scream echoed like an airhorn. Mingyu banged on the table, his laughter so loud it could be heard in the hallway. Soonyoung was on the floor, rolling around like he’d just seen the funniest thing of his life.

“NOOOO—!” Jihoon’s face burned bright red, his hands flying up to cover his eyes. He sank so low into the couch it looked like he was trying to disappear into the cushions. "I'M LEAVING!" he declared, attempting to get up, but Mingyu shoved him back down.

“Stay right there, hyung.” Mingyu grinned like a cat that just cornered a mouse. “We’re not done.”

Jeonghan leaned in, his eyes practically glittering with mischief. “So tell me, Jihoon, how long have you been ‘needing’ Bumzu hyung's supervision?”

“SHUT. UP.” Jihoon threw his second pillow, but Jeonghan caught it with one hand like it was nothing.

“Ohoho, look at him!” Seokmin gasped, pointing like he’d seen a rare species in the wild. “Look at his face! Redder than a cherry!”

Bumzu leaned forward, his grin widening. “You know, if you just admitted it, they’d probably leave you alone.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Jihoon shot back, glaring at him with the intensity of a supernova.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Bumzu laughed, tossing a piece of candy into his mouth. “But it’s still funny.”

For the next few minutes, the teasing didn’t let up. Everyone had something to say, whether it was about your name in the credits or Jihoon’s ‘secret’ love songs. They teased him about how much you were in his head, how his melodies were sounding “suspiciously romantic” lately, and how even his synth choices had more "color" than before.

Jihoon sat there, his face a permanent shade of red, trying not to combust. He leaned back against the couch, tilting his head up toward the ceiling, eyes closed like he was begging the universe to end his suffering.

"How am I supposed to survive this in the future?" he muttered to himself.

Bumzu clapped him on the shoulder, his grin far too wide. "Oh, buddy, this is just the beginning."

"Please stop," Jihoon groaned. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Nah,” Bumzu said, shaking his head. “I’m on her side now.”

The room burst into chaos once again, and Jihoon could only bury his face in his hands, wondering how he’d survive the next album.

The end.

[hanniescookie]

i like you, i'm sorry - ljh

pairing - ljh x f!reader

genre - fluff, alternate au

warnings - kissing, fluff, a tiny bit of angst if you squint but happy ending

summary - jihoon is your classmate and crush since freshman year at music school, but when you get to know what he really thinks about you, you can't help sinking in a heartbreak.

author's note - MY FIRST EVER FIC THAT I'M ONLY A LITTLE PROUD OF??? @jjjjeonww // my love, my wifey, my precious faith, here's my first piece of writing on tumblr for you!! you're the first person who made me feel welcomed on tumblr without even trying, and you know exactly why you're so dear to me, so take this appreciation token and have fun w it 🤍 don't let any XY chromosome dull your spark when uji is here <3

-------------------------**~~**--------------------------

You type away the last bit of your lyrics on your laptop, and then sigh out loud. It's been a hectic day — one that has made you cry. Many assignments were piled up that you barely got done at the last minute, and if that frustration wasn't enough, you were belittled by your very own crush.

Lee Jihoon.

The guy you've liked since freshman year. It never helped that he was never mean to you so like the simple girl you were, you always glorified the bare minimum he provided you with.

If he sat beside you in class because there was no other seat available, you'd take it as a sign. How dumb.

He never really shattered these delusions of yours anyway. He took the ice cream you gave him as an excuse just to speak to him. He answered all your questions about the lessons that you had understood well enough and taught you a little bit of piano too when you asked. He even texted first so many times and responded to your texts really well.

So you had no reason not to feed in your bubble of delusion. Well, not until today.

It was a routine music theory class early in the morning when he sat beside you. You felt butterflies flutter in your belly the longer you stared at him (you tried not to). You were determined to try and talk a little more to him today — at least more than the hi, good morning, how was your day, is this seat available kinda stuff.

However, right after class ended, some of your classmates surrounded him, asking him questions about the lesson. It was a known fact that Jihoon was a genius, and was always praised by the teachers. It felt like he was born to make music. Hence, often times, like today, people came up to him for help.

He wasn't entirely pleased with being cornered like that, but he was still kind enough to help. You sat in your place, watching and listening as the conversations slowly shifted from one topic to another. Jihoon's focus was on the many people in front of him, and his back was facing you now. That should have made you feel ignored, or at least insulted, but it didn't. Not at that time. You were busy listening to his voice as he talked to everyone.

Then those words left his mouth — the ones that have now bled in your lyrics, the ones that made you cry and the ones that made you resent him.

"What do you think about Y/N?"

Somebody had asked him — you can't recall who it was, but definitely one of the girls who never seemed to like you.

Jihoon's response had come with a little laugh — like he was joking. "Oh, she's just an annoying classmate."

You didn't wait to notice if he'd notice you leaving after that. You just left, carrying your bag over your shoulder as tears pricked your otherwise soft eyes.

And now here you are, four hours later, sitting in an empty classroom and staring at the lyrics you penned out of your heartbreak. Well, this will pass too, you tell yourself, pressing save on your document.

"Why are you sorry for liking someone?"

You yelp when you hear a voice directly behind you, turning your head instantly to see Jihoon bent over your shoulder. He stands back with a little smile, pointing towards your screen with his chin. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. The words looked interesting."

Baffled, you turn back to see your now saved document still displayed on the screen. The bold title says, "I like you, I'm sorry."

Your face feels warm suddenly, and the tears you had successfully hidden threaten to come out. You grit your teeth, trying to keep your composure when he sits beside you. "You can't just peek in my work. It can be personal."

He looks at you, a little alarmed at your tone — something he's not used to hearing. His expression turns only a little concerned, almost guilty. You can't catch the emotion exactly. "Is everything alright?"

You try not to, but you snap anyway. "Yeah, no. Nothing is quite alright. You don't get to call me just an annoying classmate and then sit here looking all concerned like I mean something to you."

You watch a flicker of uncertainty cross his features, and he looks surprised if you can gauge correctly. For several seconds, he tries to find words and you wait — really wait like you always have. Maybe it's because you're frustrated, but your patience runs out.

You shut your laptop, and stuff it in your bag, preparing to leave. If leaving is what you do best, so be it.

But Jihoon decides he doesn't want to watch you leave. At least not before he even tries his luck. His fingers close around your wrist, pulling you to sit back beside him. You land a little too close to his face, your knee brushing against his.

It's the closest you've ever been to him, and even though you're genuinely very hurt, your heart betrays you. It beats faster, finding comfort in his beautiful eyes that you fell for.

"Y/N," he speaks, soft and slow, and you feel like melting on the spot. He continues, "I didn't mean it."

"Huh?"

He breathes, closing his eyes for a second before looking back in your confused ones. "I didn't mean what I said. It was just– oh god, I'm stupid. I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to say that."

You wait for him to finish explaining, but he's quiet again, just looking at you through his lashes as if he's confused himself. He shakes his head a little, sighing, before he speaks again.

This time, it's a question. "Do I mean something to you?"

Your breath hitches a little, tongue darting out to swipe across your dry lips in nervousness. Any hurt you'd felt in the morning flies out of the window, and you can only focus on Jihoon and his soft voice, asking you a question so intimate.

You can't help it — your head nods itself once, and you're so glad it does because the way Jihoon smiles is priceless. You'd do anything to keep seeing the sight.

"I'm honoured," he says, smile softening. "And so very guilty for hurting you. I always assumed you probably find me annoying because I deliberately come late just to sit beside you, and I text you and I'm always looking at you. I kind of projected my problem on you. I thought that saying that would make me believe it and you'll hate me anyway."

You stare at him in complete disbelief, blinking owlishly for longer than you should. He's starting to chuckle at his own absurdity. "I didn't know how to deal with how much I like you. I also didn't know you felt the same."

You swallow, feeling warmth flood your face the longer you look at him. Slowly, you move a little away, your eyes traveling back to the desk in an attempt to not be any more flustered. Your heart runs a marathon and you genuinely don't know how to wrap your senses around your current situation.

"Jihoon I—" you begin to speak, but he holds your hand softly, smiling. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

If the sky were to fall on you right now, you'd gladly be buried underneath with a smile on your face. Your lips tilt up, curling into the smile that Jihoon absolutely adores.

And you nod again, this time with more firmness than before. His smile widens, but only enough to keep it soft. His eyes flicker to your lips for a second before he asks, "Can I kiss you then?"

This time, you don't nod. You're way too flustered to do that. You simply lean forward, and capture his lips in a sweet kiss.

Just like that, an empty document in your laptop awaits your new lyrics about your newfound experience — one that's too surreal to feel real.

[eomayas]

crawling back to you • ljh

pairing: producer!woozi x f!reader, exes2l

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!!! angst & fluff

synopsis: reader sees her ex boyfriend for the first time after avoiding him for months, and they realize just how much they miss each other

warnings: p in v, fingering, unprotected s*x (reader takes BC), praise, dirty talk, groveling, drinking, they’re at a club

a/n: eeeek sorry i’ve been MIA! i hope u like this. unedited. excuse any plot inconsistencies i started this weeks ago. will be finishing up reqs soon!!

music blares through the club speakers and bodies fill up what feels like every square inch of space available. your drink sloshes in your cup when a club-goer collides with your shoulder, a drunken “sorry” thrown your way as they stagger off. luckily, nothing spills on you and you got an apology.

walking up the stairs to the section your friends got, doubt and anxiety creep around the corners of your brain, the cage of butterflies in your stomach ready to be released. here’s the thing: your ex is up in this section, here because this night is partially about him and partially because your friends guilt tripped him into coming. otherwise, you know he wouldn’t be here. you also wouldn’t be here, if not for being tired of skipping out of fun activities just to avoid him. it’s tiring making up excuses as to why you can’t go to something whenever you catch wind of him being invited as well.

that’s really the problem with your breakup; you shared a group of friends. they all vowed to not get involved, staying true to their word on being impartial, though sometimes you wish they’d show favoritism and not invite him to things, just for your sake.

tonight, you’re here because you’re tired of being tired, tired of being afraid of running into him. you even stopped frequenting the places you used to go together because of the mere threat of possibly running into him. you’re tired of it.

also, you came because you knew he’d be here. not that that matters, or anything.

stepping into the section, you take a sip of your drink to calm yourself, before you’re spotted by soonyoung who waves at you enthusiastically. “y/n! you came!” he cries, jumping up from the couch and nearly tackling you in a hug. he hugs you around the shoulders and squeezes you tightly, and you can smell the alcohol wafting from his breath. “i’m so happy you’re here!” he slurs, and you wonder how many drinks he’s had.

when he releases you, you can’t help but return the toothy smile he gives you. “me too,” you say, though you’re not really sure yet. placing a hand on his cheek, you gently pat him. “youre drunk.” you declare, giggling when he smiles proudly.

out of all of the friends you shared with jihoon, you got the closest to soonyoung. probably because he was always around, but his personality is infectious and he’s just overall a good time. it sucked when you and jihoon broke up because you saw less of him until he reached out a few weeks after to reassure you that he wasn’t ‘picking sides’, but was trying to be there for his friend. you understood, but you needed a friend too.

you and soonyoung release each other, and he grabs your hand and begins to drag you over to where he’s sitting. knowing how close him and jihoon are, you relent and try to pull yourself back. “no, hosh, i don’t think it’s a good idea,” you start to panic, eyes frantically scanning the section for any sign of him.

“nooo, he’s not even sitting with me!” he pouts, rolling his eyes. you furrow your eyebrows at him, and he sighs, gnawing on his lip like you’re goin to hate what he’s about to say. clearing his throat, he says, “he’s made a friend.”

you ignore the pang in your chest and swallow down the lump in your throat. everything in you stops you from whipping your head around in search of him and this new found friend of his. shrugging your shoulders, you attempt to act nonchalant and like you don’t care, but soonyoung sees right through your facade. “good for him,” you say, but it comes out like fuck you.

“let’s drink.”

tipsy, not drunk. that’s your goal for tonight, and you’re dangerously on the verge of approaching drunk, the shot glass in front of you tempting. jeonghan raises his eyebrows at you from across the table, his shot glass hovering in the air. you eye the cup full of liquor, stomach roiling at the thought of taking even a sip. with resignation, you shake your head at last and lean back against the couch, a collective groan and pleading coming from your friends.

“cmonnnnnnn!” they say in unison, making you cover your face and shrink against the cushion.

“this is peer pressure, you know,” you say, pulling your hands from your face and looking at the shot glass. it’s practically calling your name (or maybe it’s seungcheol complaining at you), waiting for you to drink it. “nah, guys, i’m tapping out.” you declare.

“i’ll drink it,” wonwoo says, reaching across the table and grabbing your shot. he clinks both of the drinks in his hands against everybody else’s before downing one after the other. you watch in astonishment, feeling slightly nauseous for him, and a drink is placed in front of you on the table.

“water,” soonyoung says before you can question him, and sets a few more glasses down. somehow, despite his drunken state earlier, he’s managed to sober up as you drank more and more, despite it being his idea to keep on drinking.

you thank him and immediately grab the glass and begin chugging, not realizing how dehydrated you are.

“can i cut in?” you freeze, nearly choking on your water, and pray to the heavens that that voice doesn’t belong to who you are 101% sure it belongs to. you’ll never not know that voice, never not hear it ringing through your head when you watch a tv show you both liked or walk by your favorite restaurants. all the blood in your body rushes to your face, cheeks and neck burning red.

sliding your eyes from the table in front of you and up to the voice, it’s like your brain is wiped of every thought in your head and your senses are working over time. suddenly the music feels too loud, and the lights too bright, and your dress too tight. jihoon is looking down at you, chewing on his bottom lip nervously—a habit he’d never been able to shake.

you realize much too late that he’s waiting for an answer from you, being under his gaze after so long of even seeing him making your brain work extra hard to process anything. jihoon stands above you, looking sexier than ever in all black with hair pulled back, a few loose strands framing his face. you nod choppily, hands clutching your water glass so hard that it might break from the pressure.

everyone at the table magically disappears after that, soonyoung vanishing from your side the moment you tipped your chin up. the only sign of anyone else having been sat around you are the empty glasses littered across the table.

jihoon takes a seat next to you on the couch, not so subtly wiping his palms on his pants. “are you gonna throw that at me?” he says as a greeting, nodding down at the glass in your hands.

at that, your grip loosens and you set the drink on the table, wiping the condensation from the glass on your dress. “no,” you reply, meeting his eyes. jihoons face softens when you look at him, and you wish you didn’t notice it because you feel your heart break in your chest.

“hi,” he says.

“hi.”

there’s a gap of space between the two of you, wide enough for another person to sit. you want to scoot closer and simultaneously scoot away from him, but stay planted where you’re at. “how’ve you been? it’s good to see you, y/n,” his voice is sincere, and it makes you feel confused, and like you miss him. because you do—it’s why you’re here.

you nod, nervously sliding your hands underneath your legs. “good. it’s nice to see you too,” you reply, and you wonder if this is how the night is going to go; you agreeing with and repeating whatever he says. “how are you?”

jihoon mirrors your anxious over-nodding. “good! just been working.”

“sounds like you,” you offer, earning a smile from him that shoots straight to your chest, followed by a ripple of sadness. work. the one thing you couldn’t compete with, so you never tried. and because you never tried, you were always second. second to the music, second to the studio, second to everything you let him put above you.

sensing your discomfort at the mention of the thing that drove a wedge between the two of you, jihoon scrambles to change the subject. work is his fault, but music is something he could never give up. music is his passion, it’s his calling and his purpose in this life. he blames the hours, not the thing. “i’ve been meaning to call you, but i was trying to give you space,” he says.

you nearly scoff in his face because if anything, space was the last thing you needed or wanted from him. you wanted time, but certainly not space. he gave you enough of that while you were together. space is what you got when you allowed yourself to be second. you can only hum at his words, a proper response lost on you.

“i miss you.”

those three words echo through your skull and bounce around the corners before they land squarely in the front. i miss you. somebody had to say it first.

“you don’t show it,” you murmur, looking down at the floor. you’re acutely aware of how much space is between you when the gap lessens, his thighs centimeters from your own in an instant.

“hm? i couldn’t hear you,” his mouth is very near your ear, leaving you no space if you were to turn your head to look at him. you go to lean back against the couch to put some distance between the two of you, but collide with his arm that is strewn over the back of it.

a surge of nerves runs through your body. finding a new sense of boldness, you scoot away from him and turn towards him, looking him square in the eye. “i said, you don’t show it,” jihoon blinks at you, mulling over your words.

“i don’t show it?” he asks, leaning in. you shake your head, your eyes never leaving his. jihoon brings a hand up to rub his bottom lip. those lips. your eyes drag down to rest upon the soft, pink lips that adorn his face. you fight the urge to trace his bottom lip with your thumb, grateful for the darkness of the club because your face is on fire. “well, it’s true though. i miss you.”

in place of a response, you pick up your water glass and chug the rest. you can feel him watching you, his eyes burning right through you. it’s bad enough that you’ve been craving his presence ever since you called things off with him, but having him this close so soon wasn’t exactly as easy as you dreamed it to be. you’re hot under his gaze, and the water is doing nothing to cool you down.

“you don’t act like it. you didn’t even call,” and maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or you’re simply feeling extra bold but you can’t stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth.

jihoon works his jaw and pushes a few strands of hair out of his face. “i didn’t think you wanted to hear from me.”

“i’ll always want to hear from you.”

at your admission, jihoon leans back against the couch cushion, teeth running over his bottom lip. your gaze lingers on his lips for a brief moment, long enough for jihoon to catch. he shifts against the couch, and you let your thoughts get the best of you and rake your eyes over his figure, shamelessly eyeing his lap. his legs are outstretched in front of him, slightly bent at the knee and fallen open wide.

it’s been months since you’ve had sex, jihoon being your last. you’ve managed to take care of yourself, though you miss feeling full. jihoon watches you drink him in, hand curling around the back of the couch. “are you seeing anyone?” he asks, leaning forward slightly. you shake your head, looking at him pointedly. you don’t have the strength to ask him back, brain taking you back to what soonyoung said earlier. a friend. clearly, there’s something there.

he’s watching you again, and this time you don’t have anything to preoccupy yourself with under his gaze. “congratulations, by the way,” you blurt embarrassingly, trying to find something else to talk about. jihoon blinks a few times, like he’s trying to figure out why you’re congratulating him for anything. “on your music. tonight is for you, isn’t it?”

“oh. thanks. and no, it’s not for me. they just needed an excuse to go out,” he says, brushing the stray strand of hair out of his eyes. you follow the movement and let out a small sigh, hands holding onto your knees.

jihoon leans forward and rests his elbows atop his knees. his face is close to yours, mere inches away. if you leaned in towards him, your lips would brush, and you hate how aware of it you are. you should hate him, shouldn’t want to see him, and certainly shouldn’t be imagining kissing him right now. you left him. but he marked the end of your relationship.

a zing of heat spreads through your chest as you look him in the eye. the club feels too dark, too hot, too loud, and jihoon too close to you. “i need some air,” you rush, standing up on wobbly knees. you pull the hem of your dress down, making the mistake of looking down at jihoon. he stares up at you, his eyes wide as they drag up your legs. when his gaze settles on your face, his lips part and his to the darts out to lick the corner of his mouth.

you swallow the newly formed lump in your mouth and make your way towards the stairs and hobble down, hand gripping tightly to the railing. you manage to make it down the flight of stairs without embarrassing yourself and push past people to get to the exit, outside calling your name like a siren. “y/n!” or maybe it’s literally your ex calling out to you.

jihoon is right on your heels, looking a little stressed as you round the corner around the side of the club. you suck in some air and look over at him, a breeze blowing his hair out of place again. “what?”

he holds his arms out to the side for a brief moment before dropping them at his sides. “i don’t know. i don’t know what to say, i just…” he trails off with a light shake of his head, wiping around his mouth. you just stare at him, bottom lip tucked under your top lip. “i just want to talk to you, i guess. i don’t know. i miss you.” he says for the third time tonight.

you only hum, looking up at the inky black sky. you hear his shoes scuff against the pavement, and then he’s right at your side, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking onto his heels. “i’d do it differently, if i could, you know? i fucked it all up.”

“what would you have done differently, jihoon? quit your job? stopped making music? i wasn’t going to have you resent me, jihoon,” tonight doesn’t feel like the night for this conversation, but maybe it is. maybe that’s why you came here knowingly, hoping that you’d run into him to make sense of the end of your relationship. “there’s nothing to really change, jihoon. you came home. you checked in. you did it all.” you don’t know why you’re trying to spare his feelings still, but something in you won’t let you dunk on him to his face like you did behind his back.

jihoon is listening, he hears you. but the only thing he can focus on is the way you keep saying his name, and just how much he really misses hearing you say it. blowing out a breath, he shrugs his shoulders up to his ears and drops them, eyes flicking up to you at you. your bottom lip is tucked underneath the top, your eyes already on him. your arms are crossed over your midsection, and a breeze blows a few strands of hair out of their place and jihoon has the urge to put them back, but he stops himself.

“so now what?” you ask, peering down at him. jihoon stares back at you with parted lips, eyes dropping to the ground before flicking back up to you.

“i don’t know. i just miss you, y/n,” he flicks his bangs out of his face and you purse your lips. it’s not like you don’t miss—you do, way too much, in your opinion—you just don’t necessarily know what to do with what he’s saying to you. is he expecting you to magically forget everything and take him back? should you take him back? should you even be talking to him? “you look really nice tonight.”

and he looks too good right now, too approachable, too take-back-able. he looks good enough to do something you might regret in the morning.

jihoon takes a half a step closer to you, the toe of his shoe touching your heel. you turn, interweaving your legs and pressing your abdomen against his and putting a hand on his shoulder. he swallows and ignores the thump thump thump of his heart, nerves skyrocketing the longer you look at him with your hand on him.

in an instant, you’re ducking down and pressing your lips to his. jihoon kisses you back urgently, one hand resting on your hip and the other cradling the side of your face. it’s rushed, messy, and feverish in seconds, jihoon trying his damndest to pull you impossibly closer.

he grows hard below you and the slightest brush of his erection on your leg makes you shiver and part your lips against his, allowing him to slip his tongue in your mouth. jihoon drops his hand from your cheek and places it over your ass, pulling your crotch against his own. “i drove here,” he pants against your lips when he gets a moment to pull away.

that’s all you need to hear to let him lead you to his car, your heels echoing off the pavement. jihoon helps you into the back and climbs in immediately after, pulling the door closed and caging you against the backseat and the side of the door.

jihoon settles one knee on the floor of the car and the other on the seat, hands bunching your dress up around your hips as he kisses you fervently. your hands work the buttons of his shirt open, mouths pulling apart for a brief moment when you get to the end of his shirt and fumble with the last button for too long. his shirt falls open and you push it off his shoulders, and wet your lips at the sight of his bare torso.

the air in the car is thick as he sits above you, chest heaving as you drink him in. you rake your nails over the toned body that you once used to get to touch just like this. jihoon nudges your nose with his own, gently pressing his lips to yours once you angle towards him. he holds onto the headrest to brace himself, quietly groaning when you start to work his belt open.

“i need you,” you whine when his belt is pulled free, already rushing to unbutton his pants.

“lemme stretch you out first. you can’t take me yet,” and he’s not trying to be cocky (he definitely is), but he doesn’t need to know if you’ve been fucking other people to know that you definitely aren’t ready for him.

you whine at the thought of having him inside of you, your core aching with need. he’s 100% right, but you want him so bad and feel like you can’t wait.

jihoon is already working his fingers inside of you, pulling your panties down to your knees and dragging his fingers up your folds to collect your slick. he doesn’t tease you like he otherwise would if you were still together, rather he dips two fingers into your sopping, warm hole and curls them upwards. you gasp and he bites his bottom lip, pumping his fingers in and out of you.

arching against the seat, you whimper when he presses against your clit with his thumb as he works his fingers inside of you, reaching that spongy part that makes your vision spot and harsh pants leave your lips. jihoon leans down and kisses on your neck, lips dragging under your jawbone and nearing your collarbones. “i missed this,” he groans into your neck, teeth lightly nipping at the soft skin there. you only buck your hips in response and bury a hand in his hair. “missed you and this perfect pussy.”

a soft grunt escapes you when he slips in a third finger. “you take my fingers so well, baby,” he adds, pulling back from your neck to look down at where you mold around his three fingers. you suck him in greedily, and it still doesn’t feel like enough.

“hoon, i want you,” you whimper, tugging on his hair. his eyes fall closed as he lets you pull on his hair, head falling back as you do it. “i can take it.” you add, pussy clenching around his fingers. you bring your other hand over to pull down his zipper, eagerly pushing at the waistband.

“you sure?” he asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, fingers still moving inside of you. you nod and lean up from the seat and press your chest into his, turning your head to connect your lips in a sloppy kiss.

jihoon pulls his fingers out of you and pull away from you to shove his pants down to his ankles, haphazardly wiping his hand on the fabric of his boxers. jihoon throws himself onto the seat next to you and tugs you onto his lap, one hand making use of unzipping the back of your dress and helping you out of it, followed by your bra and panties.

you’re left in just your heels and him in just his open shirt, his hard cock flat against his stomach. jihoon palms your breasts, letting out a breath when you rock against his lap. “fuck, i need you so bad,” you say, pressing an open mouthed kiss to his neck. reaching between the two of you, you take his thick shaft in your hand and slowly start pumping him, reveling in how he pants into your ear and grips onto your ass tightly.

“i wanna feel you, baby. ride me,” he rasps, biting his lip to hold in a whimper when you swipe your thumb over his tip. you raise your hips and position him at your entrance before slowly sinking down on him, gasping when the head of his cock presses into your hole and stretches you out. “fuckkkk.” he drawls, leaning his head back against the seat.

you hold onto his shoulders for support as you move lower and lower onto him, breathing quickening with each inch you take. his cock fills you up in a way that is so familiar yet so foreign after months of going without. it would be overwhelming if not for the way he rubs your lower back and kisses across your chest, mumbling at you to take your time. “you feel that?” jihoon groans, hands squeezing your hips.

you only whine pathetically and draw your bottom lip in between your teeth. you sink lower, finally bottoming out and shuddering at being stuffed. jihoon lets you sit on his lap and adjust, his ego swelling knowing that you even need the time. “shit,” you whisper, running a hand through your hair and tilting your head back. the stretch is bordering on painful, but you’re not about to quit now, not when your cunt has its own pulse that’s in sync with your heart.

a heavy hand falls on your neck and jihoon pulls you down to his lips, instantly slipping his tongue into your mouth. you moan against him and rock your hips back and forth, sucking in a breath each time you move forwards. you falter in the kiss, simply pressing against his mouth as you grind against him. “you’re so tight,” jihoon grunts, dropping his hand from your neck to toy with your clit. you clench around him and his breath hitches. “i missed this pussy, fuck. i’ve been thinking about you every night.” he admits, earning a whimper in response.

moving up onto your knees, you work up the strength to fuck yourself onto him and place a hand on the roof of the car to steady yourself. “f-fuck, jihoon,” you hiccup, mouth falling open.

“do you miss me too?” he rasps, pinching your clit , hips bucking when you let out a whimper that goes straight to his cock. “you think of me fucking you like this?”

“yes!” you cry out, a response to both of his questions. your thighs burn but you keep bouncing up and down, a familiar tightness forming at the base of your stomach. “missed this so much.” you squeak, dropping onto his lap and rolling your hips.

“yeah?” he pants out, lips ghosting over your neck. “cum for me and show me.” and you look down at him and swear you see a demon for a second, jaw falling to your chest when he rubs his thumb across your bundle of nerves.

putting both of his hands on your ass, he surprises you when he hoists you up before slamming you back down on his cock, careful to avoid knocking your head against the top of the car. you moan and encircle your arms around his neck and hunch down into him, crying out his name as he manually moves you up and down. “j-jihoon!” the air gets pushed from your lungs each time he pulls you down onto his cock, vision blurring.

your cunt clenches around him in a vice grip, making him stutter as he lets out a string of curses mixed with praise. “s-shit, feels so f-fucking g-good,” jihoon manages. he can feel his release creeping up on him, but he’s determined to have you cum first. he still knows all of your tells: heavy breathing, lack of talking back, the tight grip you have on him. “are you gonna cum for me?”

it only takes him fucking you onto his cock a few more times before youre sputtering out his name and your cunt is spasming around his cock. you gush onto his lap and shake against him, nails digging into his shoulder blades. feeling you against him spurs his own orgasm, and ropes of his cum shoot up into you. you want to blame the alcohol for your lack of concern for a condom, but you’re too far gone (and take birth control pills) to take up an issue with letting him fuck you raw.

you settle in his lap and tuck your face into his neck. jihoon rubs your back soothingly and makes no move to get you off of him, or to move. for a few minutes of you sitting on top of him, he lets himself pretend like you’re still together, and softly peppers kisses into your neck, all while his finger tips gently stroke up your spine. you love and hate the intimacy, wishing it were real and yours to hold onto. wishing that it meant something.

“jihoon,” you’re the first to break away after what feels like forever. you sit up and peel yourself off of him, involuntarily moaning when he slips out of you. you roll onto the seat next to him and shyly try your best to cover yourself. “did you really mean it?” you ask.

“mean what?”

“mean it when you said you’d do it all over again?”

he places a hand on your bare leg and looks over at you. “i did. i’d do anything, really, to get you back,” he admits. he doesn’t care if he sounds pathetic, he just wants you back.

you only hum. his bluntness puts butterflies in your stomach, and has you wondering if a second chance would really be that bad? or maybe it’s the fact that you can feel his cum leaking out of you and onto the seats.

“it’s not going to be this easy, jihoon,” you say, playing with the ends of your hair. his hand slides higher as he scoots closer to you, seemingly pulling you back into his lap. you wrap an arm around his neck and toy with his hair. “you’ve really got to try. show me that you care.” you add softly.

jihoon peers up at you with big, pleading eyes, and you feel yourself soften against him. he kisses the center of your chest and you let out a sigh, curling into his body. “i can do that. i just want you back, baby.”

and if he keeps calling you baby, it really might just be that easy.

[seungkw1]

safe haven — ljh

♡ pairing: neighbor!jihoon x fem!reader ♡ theme: fluff, hurt/comfort ♡ wc: 3.9k ♡ warnings: post-breakup dynamics, cheating (from ex), swearing, mentions of food ♡ a/n: written as part of the Winter with You collab put on by @camandemstudios - make sure to check out the full collab masterlist here!! give all these talented writers some love <3 and big thanks to @lovetaroandtaemin for beta reading!!

As if your fiancé leaving you for another woman wasn’t enough to make this the shittiest week of your life, now you’ve managed to lock yourself out of your house during an incoming blizzard. At least your next-door neighbor is home, and he’s kind enough to offer you shelter from the storm. You barely know Jihoon, only having spoken to him a few times - but soon, you discover you have more in common than you initially thought.

Five days ago, you made the innocent mistake of picking up your fiancé’s phone when you thought it was yours. You noticed immediately when you saw the lock screen - it was a photo of you and him from last December, posed in front of a Christmas tree, taken minutes after he proposed. In it, you’re smiling ear to ear, enthusiastically showing off the beautiful engagement ring he bought you. The photo has been his wallpaper ever since. “You look so happy,” he told you a couple months ago. “I can’t bring myself to change it.”

You go to set the phone back down, but a notification catches your eye. You take a closer look, discovering a string of WhatsApp messages, all from somebody named Kelsey. 

Huh, that’s weird, you think to yourself. I didn’t know he even used WhatsApp. 

Normally, you’d think nothing of it - but something feels off. You hesitate for a moment. You know each other’s passcodes for the sake of convenience; you’ve never felt the need to go through his phone, and you feel bad about even thinking about doing it. But, your gut is telling you to investigate.

You input the password and open the message thread. You’re not quite sure what you’re even looking for, but two seconds of scrolling tells you all you need to know. Dumbfounded, you read the particular message three more times before it sinks in: 

Can’t wait for our vacation next week baby, I really need to get away from all of this right now. 

Your stomach lurches as if you’ve just been punched in the gut. He told you he was going on a business trip next week. He told you that months ago. 

Get away from ‘all of this’? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Does he mean… me???

Blood rushes through your ears as you read through the never-ending series of sexts, nudes, notes more romantic than anything he’s ever said to you before, an entire paper trail of all the times and locations of the evident affair - until you feel like you’re going to be sick. 

No, it’s not real. It can’t be. There’s no way…

Paralyzed, you stand there in disbelief, but as several more minutes of scrolling pass, it becomes clear that this is actually happening. Tears start to well in your eyes, but you quickly bottle it up, converting the energy into anger instead. You take the phone and march into his office to confront him - ready to shut him down when he tries to deny it. 

But, he doesn’t even try to deny it. He doesn’t even care.

“Well, it’s about time you found out anyway,” he tells you nonchalantly.

“Our wedding is in three months!! How fucking long were you going to wait to tell me??”

“I was gonna tell you soon, I just needed it to be the right time.”

“The right time??!! When is there a right time to dump your fiancé???”

“Listen, y/n-”

“Don’t tell me to fucking listen!!” you raise your voice at him. “In fact, don’t say anything else. Get the fuck out of my house.”

“You can’t tell me to get out, this is my house too,” he replies, with the sheer audacity to have a tone of annoyance in his voice.

“It’s MY name on the fucking papers. Get. Out.”

And so, he left. Didn’t even give you his set of keys back. Didn’t even say goodbye.

Now, you sit here parked in your driveway, the howling of harsh winter winds whistling over the melancholy tune playing loudly from the car radio. The volume is cranked all the way up, but despite your best efforts to drown out the outside world, the sharp whooshing sounds persist. Looks like the incoming storm is going to be as bad as predicted - if not worse. The blustering begins to jostle the whole vehicle. You stare aimlessly out the front windshield, watching chunks of snow flying erratically through the air as the winds pick up further. With a sigh, you turn the ignition off, the engine and radio going silent. If you're going to sit around moping, might as well do it inside where it's warm. You reach for the garage door remote clipped on the visor above you, but your hand only hits the soft padding. Right, you think to yourself, still gotta get that one replaced too. 

You drag yourself out of your car, hastily throwing your coat on and stumbling through the wind toward your front door. Flipping through your keys, something feels off. You look down, assuming your frozen fingers are just too stiff to pick out the correct one. You stare at the collection for several seconds, but your house key is not there. 

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself in confusion. Then, a horrible realization sets in: you never put your new key on the keyring after getting your locks changed. 

You brace yourself against the wind, trudging through the pile of snow accumulating in your front yard. As you reach the window, you lean over the bushes, peering through the partially-shut blinds into your kitchen to see a set of gold keys, sitting upon the center of the countertop. 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Your stupid ex-fiancé isn’t even around anymore and he’s still finding new ways to make your life miserable. If he had just returned your damn keys, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

Tears start welling in your eyes - and this time, you surrender. The droplets begin to freeze on your face almost instantly, but you let yourself cry. After several minutes, you’re feeling slightly better - but you’re getting quite cold. You decide to head back to your car, at least turn the heat on while you try and figure out what to do, no need to stand here and get frostbite-

“Um, excuse me…”

You jump at the sound of the voice coming from behind you, whipping your head around to see a very bundled up man. You can’t see much of his face, but he looks to be in his late-twenties, with dark hair peeking out from under a thick beanie. It takes you a moment, but you realize it’s your next-door neighbor, Jihoon, whom you've met approximately once.

“I just wanted to check if you were okay,” he says loudly, doing his best to speak over the noisy wind. “You’ve been standing out here for a while.”

“Oh,” you reply, also speaking up. You wipe the tears off your cheeks with the back of your gloves. “Um, I’m kind of locked out of my house.”

“Is the lock frozen?”

“No- well actually, I don’t know, it might be, but I don’t have my key,” you explain, gesturing through the window. “It’s in there.”

“How did you manage to do that?” he inquires, not being condescending, but genuinely asking.

“The front door locks behind you when you leave.” 

“Ohhh. Well that’s no good.” He pauses for a moment, looking at you curiously, before continuing.

“Um, well I know you don't know me very well, but if you need a place to wait while you call somebody you are welcome to come in,” he tilts his head toward his house. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, but it’s really dangerous to be out in this storm.”

Normally, you’d be standoffish to a man you barely know inviting you into his house - but, something about him tells you you can trust him. He looks and sounds sincere, and you really don’t have anywhere else to go. Plus, you’re fucking freezing. You nod at him.

“I would really appreciate that,” you shout over the wind. He nods back, gesturing for you to follow along. He walks with you to his front door, the both of you taking large steps to trek through the several inches of snow that has already accumulated. He turns the knob and ushers you inside, following quickly and shutting the door behind him. 

The sounds of the howling wind abruptly stop, the door creating a barricade between you and the heavy winter storm. Your ears ring slightly, but as you adjust to the quietness of indoors you pick up on a familiar tune playing from the other room. 

“Is that En Bateau I hear?” you ask as you unlace your boots. 

He’s in the middle of unwrapping his scarf from around his head, but he perks up at your question. “Yeah! You know Petite Suite?” 

“It’s one of my favorites,” you reply warmly as you take off your coat. You try to avoid letting the jacket’s heavy dusting of snow fall to the floor, without success. 

“Dammit, I got your floor all wet,” you inform him with a sigh. You realize you’re shivering - the house is warm, comfortably so, but standing out in the cold for however long you were out there certainly chilled you to your bones. He takes your coat from your hands, shaking off the rest of the snow before putting it on a hanger for you.

“Don’t even worry about it,” he tells you, grabbing a neatly folded towel from the closet and mopping up the mess. “There’s some blankets on the couch, you should warm yourself up.” 

The prospect of a nice cozy blanket sends you speedwalking into the living room. You spot the stack of blankets, also neatly folded, and grab the thickest one you see - it’s plush and velvety, dark red in color, and gigantic. You wrap the soft fleece around your whole body, plopping cross-legged onto the couch, practically turning yourself into a cocoon. Immediately you start to warm up, your poor frozen extremities finally relieved of the painful cold. As you defrost, your brain begins to work again, processing your surroundings. Though you’ve never been inside, your neighbor’s abode feels very homely - the decor is largely cream-colored, accented with warm earth tones, doused in low lighting sourced from a few lamps placed strategically around the room. Though a plain, warm white, the walls are flourished tastefully with various unique artworks - nothing you recognize, but all very pleasing to the eye. Not that your ex was a slob, but you’ve never known a man to be so neat and tasteful. Refreshing, you think to yourself.

You hear soft footsteps from behind you as Jihoon enters the room. You turn to see him bearing a glass of water, a piping hot mug, and a small metal tin. 

“I don’t know if you like tea,” he starts as he sets the beverages on the coffee table’s coasters. “But I thought you might want something warm to drink.”

“Tea sounds great, thank you so much,” you reply as you wiggle your arms out of the tangle of blanket surrounding you. Reaching for the tin, you pull out a bag of Earl Grey and place it in the mug to steep.

“It’s y/n, right?” he asks as he sits in a nearby armchair.

“That’s me,” you reply. “And you’re Jihoon, yes?”

He nods to confirm. “I know we met once a while ago,” he adds, “but I wasn’t sure if you remembered.”

"Of course I remember, I accidentally stole your packages,” you say with a laugh. “I felt bad about that for months.”

“No harm done, it was an honest mistake,” he replies with a calm smile. 

The tea is nowhere near ready, but you take a sip anyway. The hot liquid sends a wave of warmth through your whole body, making you instantly feel much better. Now that you’re not freezing and in tears, you can finally think straight, and you remember why you’re here in the first place.

“I should call the locksmith, god knows how long it’s gonna take them to get here in this storm,” you state as you look around for your phone, but it’s nowhere to be seen. 

“Oh, I think my phone is still in my bag.”

You start to get up, but Jihoon is faster.

“Here, I’ll grab it for you.”

He disappears from the room in an instant, returning a few moments later with your bag in hand. Thanking him politely, you rummage around for your phone until you find it. You open Google and type locksmith into the search, calling the first one you see with good reviews. 

“I’m sorry ma’am, due to the storm we aren’t able to send anyone out until tomorrow.”

You try another one, but it’s the same story. A third one, no luck either. Nobody is able to come out until tomorrow morning. Dejected, you go ahead and schedule an appointment for 7am the next day. You do your best to remain calm, but you’re too exhausted to hold in your tears.

“I don’t know what to do,” you say to Jihoon, burying your face with your hands.

“Hey,” he replies softly. “It’s gonna be okay. You can stay here as long as you need.” 

“I don’t want to be a bother,” you sigh.

“You’re not,” he assures you. “I promise. You’re welcome to take the guest room.”

“Are you sure?” you say with a sniffle, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Of course,” he nods. 

“Thank you so much,” you tell him sincerely. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“No problem at all,” he says with a soft smile. “Also, are you hungry? I have some leftover stew I was going to heat up, if you’d like some.”

You didn’t even realize that you were hungry, but the mention of food makes your stomach rumble. 

“That sounds amazing,” you reply. 

Jihoon spends a few minutes in the kitchen, returning with two steaming bowls of a hearty-looking beef stew. 

“This is delicious,” you remark as you scoop another chunk of potato into your mouth. “I’m gonna need your recipe.”

“Oh, thank you,” Jihoon replies humbly. “I’m glad you like it.”

Several moments of silence pass between you two as you enjoy the meal, the music of Debussy’s piano filling the room in lieu of conversation. But instead of it being awkward, you feel peaceful, replenished from the food and the warmth of Jihoon’s home.

“Is there anything you want to watch?” he eventually turns to ask you. “I like having something on while I eat, but if not it’s okay.”

“Sounds good to me,” you reply. “What are you watching right now?”

“Oh, um, I like… anime,” he says sheepishly, turning slightly pink with embarrassment. “But we definitely don’t have to watch that. What do you like?”

“Have you seen The Great British Bake Off?” you respond. “It’s on Netflix.”

“Never heard of it,” he admits, but he already has the tv remote in hand, opening the app.

“I haven’t seen the new season yet, if you want to start there.”

“Will I understand it if I haven’t seen the other seasons?” he inquires, causing you to giggle.

“It’s a reality show, each season is different,” you fill him in, proceeding to explain the premise. He listens earnestly, but his facial expression tells you he is skeptical. 

“It’s really good, I promise!” you assure him.

“I don’t really get it,” he admits with a confused look on his face. “But if you say it’s good, I’ll take your word for it.”

He puts on the first episode, letting you explain the different challenges to him. About halfway through the episode, he turns to you.

“So… what exactly do they win?”

“A cake stand,” you answer. The look of bewilderment on his face makes you laugh again.

“So they don’t even get any money from it??”

“Nope,” you reply, cozying up under the blanket again. “That’s why it’s so wholesome.”

“Ah, okay,” he says, still unsure about the whole thing. But by the end of the first episode, he’s hooked.

“How do they do that??” he remarks at each contestant’s fanciful cake in the final challenge, his eyes glued to the tv. As soon as the credits start to roll, he clicks the Next Episode button.

“See? I told you it was good,” you say with a sleepy smile. The combination of the satisfying dinner, the warmth of the blanket, and the relaxing nature of the show is quickly making your eyelids turn heavy. You lean your head against the back of the couch, determined not to doze off - but within a few minutes, you are fast asleep.

The soft light of early dawn glows through your closed eyelids as you begin to awaken. You’re so warm and comfortable that you don’t even bother opening your eyes - instead you just lay there, relaxing under the blankets. As your brain slowly wakes, last night’s events start to register in your mind - you grimace as you recall the bitter cold of being stuck outside your own house, having a breakdown, feeling utterly helpless until-

Your eyes pop open. Sleepily adjusting to the morning light filtering in through the windows, you see that you’re still in Jihoon’s house, on the couch. You turn your face to see a pillow underneath your head that wasn’t there previously, and an extra knit blanket draped over the red fleece one that was already wrapped around you. Jihoon is nowhere in sight, presumably still asleep. You wonder what time it is - when suddenly you remember the locksmith appointment you made for 7am. Panicked, you bolt upright, searching for your phone amidst the blankets, until you spot it laying upon the coffee table, plugged into a charger that isn’t yours. You snatch it up, your heart sinking when you see the time: 7:34am.

“SHIT,” you grumble to yourself. You hurriedly unravel yourself from the tangle of blankets - it’s still warm in his house, but a chill hits you in the absence of the cozy covers. Sitting fully upright, you feel your feet bump something as they touch the carpet. Looking down, you spot a pair of slippers - light beige in color, women’s, brand new with the tags still on. For a moment you feel a bit weird about putting them on (Why does he have these, anyway?), but you’re cold, and at this point you don’t care. You slip them on, the comfort of the fluffy interior immediately making you  glad you did. They feel high quality - luxurious even, and now you feel nice and toasty. Rising from the couch, you grab the top blanket and wrap it around you. The inviting scent of coffee suddenly hits you - you follow it into the kitchen, where Jihoon stands before a brewing coffee pot. Noticing you have entered the room, he turns to greet you.

“Good morning,” he says warmly. He wears a pair of plaid pajama pants, seemingly with a matching top underneath a dark fleece quarter-zip. You note that he also has slippers on, not too dissimilar from the ones currently on your feet. As the coffee finishes brewing, he grabs two mugs, gesturing to you with one. 

“Would you like some coffee?”

“I’d love some,” you answer. He takes the pot and pours the piping hot beverage into your mug.

“Cream and sugar?” 

“Yes, please.”

He fixes your drink and hands you the steaming mug. You take a small, careful sip, your insides instantly warmed by the smooth brew.

“Delicious, thank you,” you tell him, taking another generous sip.

“Of course,” he nods.

“Guess I missed the locksmith,” you say with a sigh. “I should’ve thought to set an alarm before I passed out.”

He turns, reaching for something on the counter. Turning back, he extends his hand to you, your keys laying in his palm.

“Already taken care of,” he says with a smile.

“How did you…” Your words trail off as you take the keys, your fingertips lightly grazing his warm skin. 

“I met the locksmith and explained the situation,” he explains. “He picked the lock in like, one minute.” He gives you an apologetic look as he continues. “I’m sorry I went into your house without asking you first, I felt bad, but I didn’t want to have to wake you and drag you out into the cold.”

“Don’t apologize,” you reply, shaking your head quickly. “I really really appreciate it.”

“I’m glad I could help,” he tells you with a soft smile.

“Thank you for the pillow too,” you add. “And the slippers, glad you had these laying around,” you say with a grin. His smile fades slightly, glancing away for a moment. 

“They were supposed to be a gift,” he says as he looks at you again. “But I didn’t need them anymore. You can keep them.” He smiles, but despite trying to hide it, his tone is tinged with sadness.

“Oh,” you say softly. “You sure?”

He hesitates slightly, unsure whether to tell you.

“They were for my girlfriend, but she left me a couple weeks ago,” he admits. He looks down at his coffee, stirring it aimlessly with the spoon. A pang of sympathy hits you. 

“I’m sorry,” you say gently. “I unfortunately can relate. My fiancé left me five days ago, for another woman.”

He perks his head up slightly in surprise. “Oh wow, what an awful week this must be. I’m sorry, too.”

“Yeah, quite honestly, it fucking sucks,” you say, staring off into space a bit. 

“I was about to propose,” he adds, unsure exactly why he’s telling you this. But you both are feeling a newfound, unspoken kinship in your aligned misfortunes. “But one day she just told me she didn’t love me anymore.”

“Jesus, that’s terrible, I’m so sorry,” you empathize. “I found out my fiancé was cheating on me and confronted him. He didn’t even give a shit so I kicked him out, haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

“Wow,” Jihoon says with wide eyes. He lets out a sigh. “I had already bought a ring, too. She didn’t know, but I had the whole proposal planned out.” He shrugs, shaking his head. “I guess it’s for the better that she left before I even bothered.”

“Yeah, doesn’t make it any less painful though.”

“Definitely not. And I wasn’t even able to return the ring.” He laughs, letting out an incredulous huff. 

“Oh my god,” you react in bewilderment. 

“It’s alright,” he says calmly. “Maybe I’ll be able to use it someday.”

His eyes linger on you slightly too long as the words roll off his tongue. The moment is brief, fleeting - but it’s enough for you to notice. 

“Would you like any more coffee?” he asks before you can fully process anything, nudging the pot in your direction.

“I’m alright, thank you,” you reply, finishing the last bit in your mug. 

“Here, I’ll take it.” 

“I better get going, now that I can actually get into my house,” you announce with a smile. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You weren’t a bother at all,” he assures you. “But I’m sure you’re dying to go home.”

Jihoon walks to his entryway. He gathers your things for you, taking your coat from the closet and helping you into it.

“I truly can’t thank you enough,” you tell him sincerely. “You really saved my ass.”

He smiles at you. “You’re very welcome. It was nice to finally properly meet you, y/n.”

He hands you something as he opens the door for you. You take it - it’s a blue sticky note, with his name and phone number written neatly on it.

“You can always call me if you need anything at all.”

“Thank you,” you smile warmly, folding the note and tucking it safely into your pocket. “I will.”

[wooataes]

a wilted rose - ljh

pairing: mafia boss!lee jihoon x fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: mafia!au, arranged marriage!au, angst, hurt and comfort, mentions of violence and guns, injuries, bruises, crying, swearing, implied murder, slight fluff, jihoon being protective (yes, that’s a warning)

summary: an unfortunate encounter has jihoon realize his true feelings for his wife.

a/n: toyed around with the idea of mafia!boss jihoon and this is what popped out 🙊 happy new year, friends!

- tae 💜🌸✨

Masterlist

Part Two? | Ask to be added to my taglist

Lee Jihoon’s family is known as one of the most feared Mafia families in South Korea, his great grandparents having made a reputation for themselves that has been held up for generations.

Jihoon was born an only child and singular heir to the Lee fortune and the Lee legacy; having known from a young age that he would eventually end up being the leader of the Lee clan. He knew the family business was dangerous, and since being taught the ropes at 13, he knew that his relationships could be used against him from rival clans. This reason alone caused him to be cautious and callous with who he associated with. He only has two important people he would consider his friends.

His closest friend, Kwon Soonyoung also doubles as his right hand man. Both men grew up together due to Soonyoung’s father being close with Jihoon’s. Their frequent meetings caused the young men to be around eachother for long bouts of time, eventually being homeschooled together while their father’s talked business. For Jihoon, Soonyoung is the one and only person he could trust on this earth- time and time again, he has always proved his unchallenged loyalty to Jihoon and his father’s family. If Jihoon was irrational and unfiltered, Soonyoung was his voice of reason and his level-headed decision maker. To him, it was a match made in heaven.

The second person he considered his friend, or used to, was you. You came into both Jihoon and Soonyoung’s life at 8 years old, your family having been hired by Master Lee to work as live-in staff in their mansion. You were the only other child Jihoon and Soonyoung’s age, and despite Master Lee’s cold heart, he grew to treat you like his daughter and let Jihoon frequently spend his younger years playing with his two closest friends when they weren’t being homeschooled together until he was of age to get into the family business.

12 months ago, when Jihoon had just turned 25, Master Lee announced his soon to be retirement to his son. The only condition for Jihoon to step up to be head of the family business was simple but to Jihoon, was absolutely atrocious.

“I don’t understand why you think me marrying would be advantageous to the family, father.” He hisses, adjusting his chain around his neck, glaring at the stupid red rose, the Lee family staple, perfectly pinned to his lapel.

“It is not to a random woman, Jihoon.” Master Lee frowned.

“That makes it worse!” He barked, leaning his head back in frustration.

“Jihoon. You have to know that no one can be trusted in this business. I am not allowing you to marry outside of who we trust. They can slither their way into your heart and when you are at your most vulnerable, they take everything out from under you. If the enemy knows you’re committed to someone already, it keeps them from hurting us from the inside.”

“Yeah, it also makes Y/N the number one target to the enemy and they will try and swipe her away from under our noses!” He’s yelling now.

He would never admit it to anyone, but he cares too much for you. You’re too good to be associated with the dastardly business that is associated with being in the mafia; you’re a good hearted person who happily serves the Lee family alongside your just as good parents. You’re the one good thing that Jihoon has left, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t protect you.

“It’s not like you’re going to be parading her out for missions and stake outs.” Master Lee frowns. “She is only for the parties. So others know that you’re a committed man that will not waver. I guarantee you she will be protected. She will be treated like a queen in here, and she won’t ever have to see the dark side of the business. Son, I promise you.”

For 12 months, Jihoon, in the public eye was the perfect model husband with you. He stayed by your side faithfully at galas and parties, parading you around with a look of what was perceived as adoration by others. Behind closed doors however, Jihoon treated you like a ghost. Long gone was your once closest friend who you stayed up late with to binge watch stupid movies, playing video games and pranks on Soonyoung. The only thing that remained was a quiet man that only greeted you for one meal a day, to his insistence for the sake of ‘normalcy.’ In your opinion, it felt anything but. Your attempts at conversion were shut down with one worded answers or sometimes none at all, and over time, you grew to enjoy your meal with your husband in silence before going about your day around the Lee mansion alone.

Jihoon thought his father’s plan was working. For 12 months, his wife was safe and protected and never got caught up with any of the mafia business. He was in alliance with most rival clans and worked out plans and deals to work for the foreseeable future.

Sadly for Jihoon, Master Lee was full of shit.

Jihoon is frantic. The staff had alerted him while out for a meeting with an ally clan that you had been injured. They were intentionally vague with details, knowing their boss would fly off the handle at the extent to what your injuries were.

“She’s at home.” Jihoon hears Soonyoung’s voice over the phone.

“What the fuck happened, Soonyoung.” He is sure he is making his driver break at least 10 different road laws right now to get back to the mansion. He makes a mental note to contact the local police and send some generous gift baskets.

“The guards don’t know. I’m trying to get it out of them, but no luck yet.”

“She shouldn’t have been out unsupervised.” Jihoon winces, rubbing at his temples. “Tell them if they don’t give you an honest answer by the time I’m back, I will have their tongues.”

“Just go to her right now, Hoon-ah.”

Marching into the living room, Jihoon makes his presence known by the heavy thuds of his boots on the tiled floor. His eyes scan the room until they finally land on you, his childhood friend and arranged wife, sitting anxiously on the couch. He feels his eye twitch at the sight of no guards in sight, you having been left alone since you have returned.

You lift your head up shakily, your eyes widening at the sight of your husband. His long hair, usually sported in a bun atop his head is now strewn about and falling out of the elastic holding it together, suit jacket scrunched and twisted, red rose nowhere to be found. You’re astonished, having grown so used to seeing your husband with his perfect red rose on his lapel at all times. What you didn’t know that after having found out about your capture, he thrown it to the ground in frustration of his worst fears coming true.

“Jihoon?” You blink nervously.

This is the first time you’ve seen him properly (minus your daily lunches) for maybe a month. He stares intently across the room at you, scanning your body. You’re cradling your left wrist in your hand, a bruise in the perfect shape of a hand print forming around your wrist. His eyes lift to your face, his blood boiling at the sight of a small cut across your cheek, your right eye swelling up and starting to turn purple.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stutter, biting down on your lip. “I know I shouldn’t have-“

You flinch at the sight of Jihoon striding forward, only to pause when he walks straight past you and into the kitchen, causing your shoulders to deflate. You were stupid to think your best friend had come back for only a moment. You sink sadly into the couch, curling up slowly.

Your head stays facing down at the floor as you run your fingertip over the hand print on your wrist, wincing and hissing as you press a little too hard. You sigh after a moment, moving to stand up before you pause at the sight of Jihoon’s expensive dress shoes directly in front of you.

You look up nervously at him as he reaches out, delicately taking your wrist, face neutral as he runs his fingers gently over the bruise just like you had done, eyebrows furrowing. You shiver slightly, this being the first physical contact you have felt from your husband in months. Next, he reaches forward and tucks a stray hair behind your cheek before examining the darkening bruise over your eye. At this, you see his eyes darken, heaving a heavy sigh through his nose.

“Who the fuck did this to you.” His voice is soft as he eyes you.

“I-I…”

“I need to know who did this.” He pleads.

“It was Hwang.” You whimper.

His jaw clenches. Hwang has sworn vengeance against the Lee family ever since Master Lee cut ties and alliances with the Hwang’s over his unethical practices. In Hwang’s words, he wanted to poison the perfect garden of roses that Master Lee built.

“H-he said it was a warning..” you can’t look Jihoon in the face. “T-to keep your wife on a leash or else something could happen. Jihoon, I’m so sorry, I really shouldn’t have gone out, I didn’t want to cause any more trouble.” You’re crying softly now, wincing at the pain that your swelling is causing.

You tense up as you feel something cool delicately rest on your cheek, opening your eyes to see your husband holding an ice pack gently to your face. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as he moves you so you’re sitting down on the couch once more.

“You stay here until Soonyoung gets back to look after you, okay?” He instructs you as you just stare at him, bewildered. “Do you hear me, Y/N?” You nod your head slowly as you cradle the ice pack to your cheek. “Good.”

You watch Jihoon turn around and march back towards the front door of the mansion, pointing to Mr Kim, one of the guards who has been in Jihoon’s family for years. “Make sure no one comes inside this mansion except for me and Soonyoung. You guard her with your life until he gets here.” The man nods his head sternly as he moves to stand in the doorway between the living room and the entryway.

“J-Jihoon? Where are you going?” You ask nervously as your husband adjusts the gun holster around his waist, his voice cold and deadly, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I’m going to kill the fucker who thought he could touch my wife and get away with it.”

And with that, the door slams behind him, leaving you alone with Mr Kim eyeing the door sternly.

You stay anxiously in the living room for what feels like an eternity, waiting to hear anything from Jihoon or his guards. You jolt at the sound of the door after only 15 minutes of sitting in silence, breathing a sigh of relief as you see Soonyoung rush inside and run straight towards you.

“Soon…” you whimper as he meets you halfway, immediately pulling you close and hugging you to his chest.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” He breathes out, shaky. “The one fucking day I had to go run some errands…”

You hate the fact that Hwang probably waited for Soonyoung to be away from you to strike.

“Soon, it’s fine…” you whisper, wincing as he pulls away to look down at your face, closely examining your swelling eye.

“It’s not fine, look at you!”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” You whisper, and he just sighs with frustration, leading you to the couch and sitting you up against the cushions, laying a fluffy blanket over you.

“You’re going to sit here and we are going to watch some tv until Jihoon-ah gets back, okay?” He settles down beside you.

“Soonyoung, you can go have a shower or eat or something...” Your voice is low as he scrolls through random movies to play on Netflix.

“Nope.” He made a promise to stay with you until Jihoon gets back, and he will stay true to his word. Eating and washing up can wait.

“Y/N-ah.” Soonyoung glances at his phone after a few hours. The ice pack against your cheek is now lukewarm, your legs having shaken non-stop since you’d been forced to sit down.

“Hm..” you hum in response.

“Jihoon-ah will be home in 5 minutes. He asked for me to give you both some privacy and take care of some clean-up. Will you be okay with Mr Kim watching you?”

“Okay.” You respond nervously, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as Soonyoung gently touches your good cheek with his finger.

“I’ll be in the other room making calls if you get scared between now and then. Okay?”

“Thank you, Soonie.” You whisper, looking up at him with a grateful smile.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles back before turning around and walking down the hall, leaving you alone once more as the panic begins to rise in your body.

You’re lucky you don’t have to wait long, as true to Soonyoung’s word, Jihoon steps inside his mansion and into the living room not even 5 minutes later, heaving a sigh. When you spot him, you rush quickly to him, immediately noticing the blood on his shirt and causing you to panic even more.

“Oh god.. you’re bleeding, what have I done? Your father will have me for this.” You quickly try to wipe the blood off his shirt (which you’re relieved to realize isn’t his). Jihoon surprises you both as he reaches forward to take your injured wrist again, pulling you to him and wrapping his arms tight around your waist.

He pulls your head into the crook of his neck, squeezing you to him as his chin rests on top of your head, grip tight on your shirt. You’re shaking before you just melt into his embrace, holding onto his jacket tight as he hums.

“Are you okay.” When you just nod, he pulls back to look into your face. “I need to hear it from you, Y/N. Please… just humor me.”

“Yeah, I’m okay, Hoonie.” You breathe out with wide eyes.

Why does he look so scared?

He sighs with finality before he pulls you back to him, hugging you tight for the first time since he was forced to hold you at your wedding over 12 months ago.

“We will need more security.” He mumbles to you as he holds you tight. “Guards at every post. When we go out, when you’re out in the garden, everywhere. It’s clear they know your schedule so we need to throw them off your scent.” He is talking a mile a minute as he keeps you close to his chest, afraid you’d slip away. “As a precaution, I will have guards sweep the house for any bugs they could have planted. Tonight, we will sleep in the safe house. Is that okay with you, Y/N?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You whisper, your face buried in his shirt. You don’t want to leave his side as much as he doesn’t too - this being the most affection you’ve gotten from someone in 12 months.

“Fuck.” Jihoon didn’t account for the fact his safe house only had one king size bed. “You can take the bed, okay… I can take the couch.”

“Don’t be silly.” You hum, already dragging him to the bed. “We’re both adults here. I think we can handle sharing a bed. We used to in school, right Hoonie?”

“I mean yeah, but we weren’t married then.”

“We’re only married on paper. Why are you being so iffy?” You laugh, wincing as your smile hurts your bruising cheek. Without thinking, he reaches out to cup your face worriedly, examining the bruise before rushing out to the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a small ice pack to press to your cheek.

“I’d feel more comfortable if you were close, Hoon. Please.” You ask quieter now as he rocks awkwardly on his heels.

“Only until you’re asleep.” He bargains, and you nod quickly.

“Deal.”

After an awkward intermission of you both getting ready to share the bed for the first time since your wedding, you’re finally drifting off, curled up beside your husband as he sits up against the bed head, stiff as a board in sweatpants and a large jumper. Jihoon lays on top of the blankets so he can make an easy get away when you fall into a deep sleep.

He’s about to up and leave as your breathing evens out, thinking you’re asleep when he feels you shift. You scoot closer, hand finding his as your head nestles comfortably against his shoulder. You visibly relax at his warmth, your shaky hands slowing to a stop as you essentially glue yourself to his side. He tenses up, looking down at you with wide eyes as you finally fall asleep. He frowns deeply at the sight of your bruise showing before aggressively sighing to himself and wrapping his free arm around you to hold you against his chest. He is unable to resist your cuteness. That, and he wants to protect you, of course.

Jihoon refuses to sleep a wink in case someone tries to break in, but after hour four of him stroking your arm delicately with his cheek resting on top of your forehead, he feels himself drifting off.

When he wakes up, he sees you’re still cuddled up to him, but almost jumps out of his skin when he sees Soonyoung standing at the foot of the bed with a knowing smirk on his face.

“It took you long enough to treat your wife like she is your wife.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jihoon hisses out as quietly as possible to not wake you, his cheeks bright red. “If she wakes up, I’ll have your head.”

“I’m sure you will.” He winks.

“Kwon Soonyoung I swear to god if my wife wasn’t sleeping against me right now, you’d be six feet under.”

“Mhm~” he sing songs, stepping out the bedroom door.

“If you tell anyone, you’re dead.”

ljh taglist

@breakfastburritosattiffanys @mar-627 @milopenne @lanatheawesome @sunnynapp @jaeminsbuckethat @opheliaas-stuff @hotricewoozi@lavayeon @seventeenthingsblr @zaggprincess2 @markleehee @kwanniesboo @beardedartgamingbakery @iarayara

permanent taglist

@misshale21 @etaerealboy @kawennote09 @im-gemmy @devinkelsey19 @woozieeeee @loveless-lie @lixiel0ver @keymins @nen-nyy @i-dont-give-a-fok @miriamxsworld @jojowantstocry @roe-sinning @sun-daddy-yoriichi @coveyland @side-angel @rinalouu @flwerrchild @apobangpowrld @ldysmfrst @adeptiixiao @lisaaaaamanobannn @jovialpartyneckoaf @sarahisupset

[wooziorgans]

too much to ask || ljh [TEASER]

pairing: ceo!jihoon x gn!reader

genre: smut. mdni. fluff. angst. fake dating. slow burn.

description: only wanting a good fuck, y/n digs their heels in for the night, and has the best lay of their life. things are never quite as simple as they seem. having unexpectedly hooked up with one of the top business men in korea, y/n gets thrown headfirst into the press and a legally binding contract to convince the media the two of them are in a committed relationship. nothing could possibly go wrong, only sometimes, certain things are too much to ask.

warnings: sugar daddy jihoon. contractual relationship (at first). pwp. fwb dynamics at first. only one bed. forced proximity?. legal shit. online drama. stalkers, paparazzi, etc. hoshi is a nosy journalist in this but he helps out jihoon. everyone in svt makes an appearance at least once. possessive jihoon (but in a healthy way?). miscommunications. jihoon is bad at expressing his emotions. reader is kinda angry for the first little bit of this (not shown here). hard dom jihoon. protected and unprotected sex. cum eating. ass slapping. fingering. oral (both r.). external prostate stimulation for jihoon cus he deserves it!. more to be added. this is a wip.

teaser word count: 3.2k

full word count: so far estimated to be around 30k. we will see.

ESTIMATED RELEASE DATE: LATE AUGUST, 2024

you can find the original pitch for this fic here!

Strong hands pushed Y/N’s chest into the soft mattress of the bed. Two long fingers teased their folds as they whined. “Please, fuck, please.” A deep chuckle sounded from behind them, as the man’s hand cracked down on their ass. 

“You’ve been so good for me so far, baby. Don’t start acting up now. Has it been that long for you? Has it been so long that you’re begging for just my fingers, sweetheart?” Another soft chuckle as his thumb swipes over their clit. The pressure, while it’s hardly anything, is enough to have Y/N’s back arching and their fingers digging into the soft white sheets of the hotel bed. “You really haven’t had sex in that long? Fuck, sweetheart, you’re dripping all over the bed and I’ve hardly touched you.” Y/N groaned in frustration. 

While they normally hated any kind of dirty talk, primarily because it made them feel like an object, this guy’s dirty talk was on another level. Maybe it was the pet names he used, they way they sounded like velvet as they slid off his tongue and into the air. Or maybe it was the teasing, the build of sexual tension over the last few hours; from inside the bar, the car to the hotel, and up the elevator into the room. Whatever it was, this was bound to be the best hookup of Y/N’s life, and it had barely even begun.

Two fingers suddenly push into Y/N, the calloused tips of his fingers pushing against their g-spot directly. The switch from nothing to something, almost too much, had tears pooling in Y/N’s eyes. He laughs again as they choke out a broken moan. “There we go, baby. You weren’t answering me.” He was almost mean in his ministries; it was almost too much, but fuck, he was so good at this, whatever it was. 

The slow build, the teasing, how his tone would be soft and his hands were rough as he delivered slap after slap to their ass. The way his fingers first, and then his tongue worked them open. The burn as his cock stretched their mouth open, thick and long, hitting the back of their throat with each careful thrust into their mouth. The way he had tears gathering in their eyes with every single thing he did, from forcing their head all the way down on his cock, to the way he slapped it against their clit for minutes before he finally pushed himself inside. The full box of condoms that had been discarded on the floor, all of them used. His stamina was almost too much, but after confessing that they hadn’t had sex in almost two years, the man chuckled deeply and spoke in a low whisper: “Then I’ll have to make up for lost time, sweetheart.” 

Lord, did he. 

Y/N slowly opened their eyes in the morning light. The room was vaguely familiar, and the ache in their hips was more than apparent seconds later. As expected, the other side of the bed was cold. The aftercare demonstrated last night was just post-coital. He was gone, and seemingly, there were no traces of him left behind. The shower wasn’t running, he wasn’t sitting in the armchair; he was gone. Y/N was awake, and while they hated being left alone after sex, it was just a hookup in a fancy hotel room they would have never have been able to afford on their own. They weren’t too upset about anything. It wasn’t nearly enough for them to get attached. Not even a name. 

It was the man's face in their dreams that had woken Y/N up. The entire thing was a contradiction. His sharp yet big eyes. His flawless skin, with the exception of a single mole near his left eye. The hook of his nose that looked otherwise flat against his face. His soft tongue that flitted out from his big, plush lips. His soft jawline, and round cheeks. All of it contrasted so harshly to his body. Once the suit was off, he was all angles and muscle. 

Y/N sits up, hips catching in protest. They wince softly, looking around the room. It looks much different in the daytime, much less extravagant than how it did in just the low lamp light the night before. Something on the nightstand catches their eye. Multiple 50,000 won bills, next to a pen and the room's notepad. They shift over, eyes focusing in on the writing on the note pad.

I had an early meeting this morning. Sorry for flaking on you like this, I hope you had a good time last night. I left you some painkillers in the bathroom. I know you’ll need them. Feel free to leave whenever. Just return the key to the front desk. - Ji

Y/N tears the top sheet off the notepad, folding it into four and setting it beside them on the duvet. Next, their eyes fall on the wad of cash. They reach over to pick it up, counting the bills. One million won. They scoff, unsure of what to do with it, but also incredibly offended. While the dirty talk didn’t make them feel cheap, this sure did. 

Leaving the bills on the bed, they waddle to the bathroom, in desperate need of those painkillers. Their hips and thighs seem to seize with every step and their lower back aches as each step hits the floor in completion. Just as he, Ji, had mentioned in his little note, two tylenols were placed neatly on top of a folded face cloth. A glass was next to them. Flipping the tap on, Y/N fills the cup, gulping down the water first and then refilling it to take the pills. Y/N examines the cup. It's the same one from last night.

“Here. Drink up, sweetheart.” The man brought the cup up to their lips. Y/N took a generous sip, smiling softly up at him through their lashes. The glass was cool against their lips. Their whole body felt as though it was burning. Twenty odd minutes had passed since they used the last condom and both crashed onto the bed, chests heaving as they tried to catch their breaths. 

Orgasm after orgasm pulled from each other, taking and taking until there was nothing left to give. Hours spent with each other, partially spent learning each other’s bodies for only one night, and just fucking for the sake of fucking. It was dirty, crass and exotic. 

Y/N had never been fucked with such rigor, and then treated so delicately afterwards. He settled beside them as he pulled out for the final time, tying off the condom and throwing it into the bin with perfect precision. He had laid down beside them, pulling them into his chest as they both tried to catch their breath. They had laid like that for around fifteen minutes before he got up, insisting he’d be right back. He was, right back, with a glass of cool water and a warm washcloth. 

“Thanks.” Y/N croaked out softly. Their voice was hoarse, their hips had started to feel the burn of the multiple positions he had manhandled them into. He brought the cloth to their thighs.

A quick shower later, Y/N had settled back on the bed and gathered their clothes. They slide their shirt over their head, stretching softly. The pain medication had kicked in under the heat of the water, hips aching less than before. It made moving a little easier, though they were sure they’d feel the burn for the next few days. 

The money was still on the bed. Y/N had no idea what to do with it. On one hand, they considered leaving a hefty tip for the housekeeper to find. They’d probably have a field day with all the used condoms and the dirty sheets. They could take it as compensation for the cum that had dripped onto the carpet. 

One million won was a lot of money. It was enough to cover this month's bills, since their landlord raised the rent a few weeks ago. It would allow them to buy actual groceries, cook a proper meal–

Y/N shoved the bills into their pocket, slipping the note in after it. They grabbed their jacket off the floor, slinging it on. A quick pat to the pocket ensured their phone and wallet were still inside. Not that this guy would take it– he seemed to have more than enough money, the few thousand won in cash would be nothing of use to a man like him. 

Grabbing the room key off the kitchen island, they bend over to slip their shoes on. Their back pulls in protest, and the whine that falls from their lips is involuntary. It seems every sound that had left their lips in this hotel room were mostly involuntary, and all thanks to Ji. Taking one final look at the room, they try to commit it to memory. 

In the elevator, they read the name on the hotel key. Universe Inn. That meant they were in Gangnam. Ji must’ve been loaded to be able to afford a room at a hotel of this stature, in Gangnam, where he knew the front desk person enough to call them by nickname. Y/N laughed to themselves softly as the absurdity of the hookup they had kicked in. No names were exchanged, no kisses on the mouth either. Not that Y/N minded the kissing rule, but it was unspoken. He never tried to initiate anything with his mouth once they were inside the hotel. In the bar, though, it was a little different.

The soft press of his lips against Y/N’s knuckles filled their body with a specific kind of warmth. “How about we get out of here sweetheart.” It was a statement, not a question. The eyes he had been giving them, and the flirtatious (bordering on indecent) direction their conversation had taken was enough to have them nodding softly, cheeks flushed though it wasn't noticeable under the red lights of the bar. 

“Kiss me properly first.” It was bold, maybe one of the boldest things they had said all night. It was the first thing they had said that had really indicated they wanted the man in front of them physically. Earlier he had asked what brought them to the bar. A small utterance of: “My friends think I need to get laid so they brought me out here.” 

“I’ll give you one kiss on the mouth tonight. If you pull away, that’s it.” The teasing had started, and Y/N had felt that there was no end for it now, but the challenge had already been accepted the moment he suggested it.

Y/N leaned forward, lips grazing his for a moment as he pulled back slightly. Y/N chased his with their own, before he chuckled softly and leaned forward to finally give them what they wanted. 

The elevator dinged as it hit the main floor. They walk over to the front desk area. It was the same man from the night before. The night shift must have not ended quite yet for him. He was on the phone, a soft knowing smile on his lips as he held his hand up for Y/N to wait until he was done. 

By the time he was finished, Y/N had made it to the desk. “I, uh, have a key to return.” Chan, as his name tag read, smiled softly. 

“I’ll take that off your hands. Did you have a good time with Jihoon last night?” Chan asked, an amused smirk on his face as he heard Y/N’s hesitancy. It was much different than the impression he had of them last night. Their eyebrows furrow and their mouth dropped open and Chan laughs dismissively. “Sorry, not my place to ask.” Y/N shakes their head softly.

“No, no. Um, did you say Jihoon?” Chan’s amused smile grew even more.

“Did he seriously not give you his name? There’s no way you don’t know who he is at least.” Another small shake of their head. Chan laughs. “Dude owns this hotel and can’t even brag about it to his one night stand. Christ.” 

Y/N coughed suddenly. “I’m sorry, did you say he owns this hotel?” Chan nodded softly. 

“Yeah. Lee Jihoon, humblest billionaire I’ve ever met. He’s one of my closest friends. He’s also my boss. Anyways, I’m supposed to gather your contact information. I know you probably just wanted to get laid last night, but the media saw their favourite bachelor with someone so you’ll be contacted by Jihoon’s lawyers at some point today.” Y/N’s head spins as Chan grabs a notepad and a pen. Oh. This was a lot more complicated than it should be. The press? Great. 

With first and last name, phone number and email down on the page, Chan took a photo of it, presumably to send it off to Jihoon, or his lawyer.

“I’m sorry about the mess outside, we have a car waiting for you. There’s cameras. Get home safe. If I don't see you around, I’ll certainly see you in the media.” Chan tried to joke, but it fell flat. Y/N understood what was happening, but the gravity of it hadn’t quite hit. 

“Yeah, thanks. See you.” With their head down, they head out of the sliding doors. 

A security guard ushered them into a black car with tinted windows. The flashes of the cameras weren’t muted by the daylight or the windows. As they mutter their address, it slowly started to hit them. If they ever saw Jihoon again, they would punch him square in the mouth (and dick) for suddenly uprooting their quiet life like this. And for the money. Fuck Lee Jihoon and his money. 

The anger started to hit as the car drove off.

Lee Jihoon is a man of punctuality and organization. He prides himself on how clean his office is, how in order his papers are, so why is his mind everywhere but where it should be? Why are his thoughts focused on the way the unnamed person he hooked up with last night sucked him in so tight, so wet, and so warm? Why can’t he focus on his meeting instead of thinking about the whines and moans they shuddered as he pounded into them on every single available surface of the hotel room? Why can’t Jihoon stop thinking about how shaky their hands were as they gripped his cock for the first time, the small whines that escaped their throat as they took him into their mouth? 

For being so organized, why can’t Jihoon fucking focus? This meeting was important. It was about last night, and while he may have made a lapse in his judgement of the press, he didn’t regret anything. It was just him, his lawyer and his PR manager. 

“Horangie Magazine has been wanting to do another interview with you for a while.” Jeonghan spins the pen in his hand. Jihoon looks up from the document in front of him. He raises his eyebrow softly. “And?” He questions. Seungcheol just sighs.

“I’m saying we do the interview and you expose some kind of relationship.” Jihoon doesn’t reply, so Seungcheol continues. “In the last twelve hours, your stocks have gone up by seven hundred percent. Traffic to your websites have doubled, and hotels are starting to get booked out for the next two months in all of Korea. This is a business opportunity, Jihoon.” Jihoon scoffs. 

“I just wanted to get my dick wet. I’m not going to start dating anyone.” Jihoon runs a hand through his hair, gripping it softly. His scalp burns, still sensitive from the way his hookup pulled on it the night before as he buried himself between their legs. “You’re my fucking PR manager, not a business advisor. What the fuck do you even know about stocks anyways?” Seungcheol just laughs.

“I’m saying as your PR manager, this is good. You were in Vogue's top one hundred men. People will buy things just because you’re young and attractive. Now imagine this influx of traffic but with someone on your arm. From the photos, they looked pretty much in the same boat as you– young and hot. Having you as the head of the company, sure, it’s gotten you this far, but with someone equally as hot? This is good press.” Seungcheol shoots Jeonghan a look and Jeonghan seems to get it. “I told you, I’m not fucking dating anyone. I don’t care about growing my company. I have more money than I know what to do with now. I’m not materialistic.” Jeonghan scoffs. Jihoon just glares at him.

“Did you get their name? First? Last? Either?” Jeonghan asks.

“No.” Jihoon’s pen finds its way in between his teeth.

“Did you at least give them yours?” Jihoon rolls his eyes.

“No. They get clingy once they know who I am; show up here looking for me for the next two weeks until I get you involved.” Jeonghan laughs.

“That was before you became so shameless with it. Seriously, Jihoon? You had your hand on their ass in every single photo.” Seungcheol snorts, and Jihoon glares at him to shut him up. “I’m calling Chan to see if he can catch them on their way out of the hotel. Whether we do anything with this or not, I need to get their contact information so we can deal with the press and protect them.” Jihoon mutters something under his breath. Jeonghan stands up, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Whether you want to accept responsibility for this or not, and I know how you are with your one night stands, they’re a part of your life now. Even if it’s temporary.” Something in the pit of Jihoon’s stomach tells him it won’t be nearly as temporary as he wants it to be. 

Last night had to have been one of the most invigorating nights he had ever had. Jihoon had built his empire by himself. He had always been a bit of a loner in terms of his business, choosing to run it by himself until his father begged him to get a business partner, or at least let someone lighten the load. 

Jihoon hated when others got involved in his business decisions, but Seungcheol proposed a pretty good deal. As much as he wasn’t materialistic, the influx of traffic and cash had never happened so fast. It had him full of the same excitement he felt when he opened his first hotel. He would never admit that out loud, and especially not in front of Jeonghan.

Besides, this person was a very good lay. They would find out who he was soon enough. It didn’t bother Jihoon. The worst they could do was decline any potential offer he and Jeonghan proposed. It had been a while since Jihoon had a solid person to fuck around with, not that anything would evolve super fast out of whatever arrangement they would agree upon, but the obvious attraction they had towards him would be hard to ignore.

Besides, Jihoon almost always got what he wanted.

a/n: guys i am cooking. also i am thinking abt making a tag list for this. pls join if u want!! send an ask or something. idk how to do this shit lol. also thought I’d try something different with the flash backs. i hope they kinda make sense, they’ll only be around for the beginning don’t worry. also also my inbox is open in general. pls send me ur thoughts

[msboookesh]

reflections - ljh

Pairing: idol!jihoon x fem!reader

Genre: you’re my crush I got a crush on you, soft Jihoon, annoying Seungcheol and Hoshi, Jihoon got a crush, fluff

Synopsis: Jihoon thought he could master the art of the poker face, but his every move betrayed him as Soonyoung and Seungcheol played "Spot Jihoon’s Crush," revealing that when it comes to love, even the best reflections can't hide the truth.

୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🧁

In the bustling world of K-pop, where every gesture and glance can spark a thousand rumors, Jihoon prided himself on his poker face. As a talented producer and performer, he had mastered the art of keeping his emotions in check, especially when it came to matters of the heart. But when you, the charming and effortlessly talented soloist and co-producer, entered his orbit, things started to unravel.

It all began innocently enough—an accidental brush of hands, a shared laugh over an inside joke. But Jihoon, ever the master of denial, convinced himself that his fluttering heart was merely a side effect of working too hard. It was nothing, he told himself, nothing at all.

That is, until Soonyoung and Seungcheol decided to play their favorite game: "Spot Jihoon’s Crush."

On this particular day, Jihoon was working on a new track in the studio when Soonyoung and Seungcheol casually strolled in, seemingly on a mission. You were supposed to be there too, to review some lyrics with Jihoon.

"Jihoon, my man," Seungcheol started with a smirk, "we need to talk."

Jihoon barely looked up from his work. "Not interested. I'm in the zone."

Soonyoung leaned on the desk, looking way too enthusiastic. "Oh, come on, Jihoon. We’re here to discuss something vital. Like, the fact that you’ve been mirroring Y/N’s every move."

Jihoon's face instantly turned a slight shade of red. "What? I—I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Seungcheol grabbed a nearby chair and sat down with exaggerated casualness. "Sure, you don’t. But here’s the thing—mirroring is a pretty solid sign of attraction."

Jihoon tried to ignore them, fiddling with his headphones. "You’re just making things up."

"Really?" Soonyoung chirped. "Then explain why you always end up standing the same way she does, or why you suddenly start fidgeting when she does."

Jihoon swallowed hard, trying to look nonchalant. "I do not."

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, so why, every time Y/N crosses her arms, you do the same. And when she fixes her hair, you do too. It’s kind of adorable. Surely not just coincidence."

Jihoon groaned. "That’s because—"

"Because you were focused on her," Soonyoung interrupted, putting on his most serious face. "And let’s not forget the countless times you’ve adjusted your posture when she does."

Jihoon’s ears were practically glowing now. "It’s not what you think."

Seungcheol leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Ah, but here’s where it gets even better. Studies show that mirroring is a subconscious way of building rapport. It means you're trying to make a connection, and your body is telling you what you’re not."

Jihoon’s face turned a deeper shade of red. He shifted in his seat, looking anywhere but at his friends. "Okay, so maybe I—"

Soonyoung cut him off with a dramatic sigh. "Face it, Jihoon. You’re head over heels for her. And your body is practically screaming it."

Seungcheol nodded in agreement. "If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and even mirrors like a duck, it’s probably a duck."

Jihoon’s attempts at a comeback fell flat as he buried his face in his hands, clearly flustered. "You guys are impossible."

Soonyoung patted his shoulder, laughing. "But you know what? It’s cute. And if you won’t admit it, then at least let us help you out."

Jihoon peeked out from his hands, glaring at them both. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

Seungcheol and Soonyoung laughs at their friend’s flushed face until you walked in with a tray of sodas and snacks. “Snacks time!” you announced, cheerfully setting the snacks down on the table.

You flashed a bright smile as you distributed them among the group, completely unaware of the ongoing analysis of Jihoon’s behavior.

Jihoon, still red-faced, grabbed a soda and began opening it. To Seungcheol and Soonyoung’s amusement, Jihoon mirrored exactly how you had opened yours—slightly tilting the can before cracking it open. He then proceeded to mimic your method of opening the pack of chips with almost surgical precision.

Seungcheol and Soonyoung exchanged glances, grinning widely.

“Hey, Jihoon,” Seungcheol said, casually pointing out, “you’re doing that thing again.”

Soonyoung couldn’t hold back his laughter. “Seriously, Jihoon, you’re so obvious it’s almost comical. Look at you, like a freaking reflection!”

You looked between them and Jihoon, confused. “What are you guys talking about?”

Jihoon, feeling the heat rise even more, stood up abruptly and began shoving Soonyoung and Seungcheol out of the studio.

“Nothing, nothing. Just... give me a moment!” he said, his voice strained as he tried to keep his composure.

You watched, a puzzled expression on your face, as Jihoon pushed his friends out. Once the door was closed behind them, you turned to Jihoon, your curiosity piqued.

“So, what was that all about?” you asked, giving him a curious look.

Jihoon turned to face you, his face still flushed but his eyes soft.

“Nothing,” he said quietly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Just... some silly stuff.”

His gaze, full of admiration, made your heart flutter. It was clear there was something more to his words, and as he looked at you, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, Jihoon’s subtle gestures were telling you something he hadn’t quite admitted yet.

Seungcheol and Soonyoung, now standing outside the studio, watched through the small window with grins plastered on their faces, satisfied with their playful meddling.

“Mission accomplished.” Seungcheol whispered with a chuckle.

“Definitely,” Soonyoung agreed, still giggling. “Time to leave them to figure things out on their own.”

[jjjjeonww]

lee woozi - "me or vernon?"

featuring lee jihoon and you.

~~in which, you're a fan of vernon even though you're woozi's girlfriend. ~~fluff.

word count: 893. a/n: THIS MAY SEEM LIKE SMUT BC OF THE HEADER BUT IT ISNT I SWEAR!!! and this is sooo painfully obvious that this is for @rosiemain . (you got da ruby roz :3) (vernon is mentioned in this fic, but isn't actually in it.)

...

You had been dating Woozi for a while now, and while you loved him deeply, you couldn't deny that you had always been particularly drawn to Vernon, your boyfriend's fellow bandmate. Vernon's charm, wit, and undeniable good looks had always caught your attention, even though you would never act on it. You valued your relationship with Woozi too much to ever betray his trust.

One evening, as you and Woozi cuddled on the couch watching TV, you hesitantly brought up the topic that had been on your mind. "Woozi, I have a favor to ask," you began, tracing patterns on his chest with your finger. "It's about Vernon..."

Woozi tensed slightly, a flicker of jealousy flashing in his eyes. "What about him?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light. He knew how much you admired Vernon, but he hoped your feelings stopped at that.

You looked up at Woozi, your expression earnest. "I was wondering if... if you could give me Vernon's signature? I know it's silly, but I've always wanted one, and I thought it would be nice to have it."

Woozi was silent for a moment, weighing your request. He knew he should feel threatened, but seeing the hopeful look in your eyes, he couldn't bring himself to say no. He sighed, pulling you closer. "Okay, I guess I can ask him for you. But only because I love you and want to make you happy," he said, a hint of possessiveness in his voice.

You beamed at him, throwing your arms around his neck in a tight hug. "Thank you, Woozi! You're the best boyfriend ever," you gushed, planting a kiss on his cheek.

Woozi smiled back, but internally, he made a silent vow. He would do everything in his power to be the best boyfriend you could ever ask for. If Vernon's signature was what you wanted, he would get it for you. But he also needed to step up his game, to show you why you should only have eyes for him.

Over the next few weeks, Woozi threw himself into writing songs for you. He poured his heart and soul into each lyric, determined to create a collection that would make you forget about any other man, including Vernon. He wrote about your love, your laughter, everything about you. ...

He had spent countless late nights hunched over his guitar, his fingers flying across the strings as he lost himself in the music. He wrote about stolen glances, secret smiles, and the way your hand fit perfectly in his own. Each song was a testament to his love for you, a dedication to the incredible woman who had captured his heart.

Sometimes, Woozi would wake up with a lyric already forming in his mind, a perfect way to express the way he felt about you. Other times, he would be in the middle of his daily routine - even brushing his teeth became a moment of inspiration, with him suddenly pausing to jot down a clever turn of phrase. No matter where he was or what he was doing, Woozi was always thinking about you, always finding new ways to pour his love into his music.

He knew that his jealousy over Vernon still lingered, but he was determined not to let it consume him. Instead, he channeled those feelings into his art, writing songs that explored the depths of his love and his desire to keep you by his side forever. Each track was another reminder of his commitment to you, his promise to be the man you deserved.

As the weeks went by, Woozi's collection of songs for you grew. He had ballads that spoke of his undying devotion, upbeat pop tracks that captured the joy you brought into his life, and even a few edgier songs that hinted at the passion smoldering beneath the surface of your relationship. Each one was a piece of his heart, a fragment of his soul laid bare on the page.

One evening, as you lay together in bed, Woozi pulled out a small, leather-bound journal filled with his song lyrics. "I have something for you," he said softly, pressing the book into your hands. "I wrote all of these for you, my love. Each song is a piece of my heart, my promise to always be here for you."

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with surprise and a growing sense of awe. You flipped through the pages, reading the lyrics that spoke of your love story, your laughter, and your dreams for the future. With each page, you could feel Woozi's love radiating off the words, a tangible force that made your heart swell with emotion.

"Woozi, this is... this is incredible," you whispered. His expression was smug as hell. And for a moment you question it before going back to reading his lyrics. 'Ding!' your brain suddenly knew why he had written all of these songs.

He would write you songs, it was normal, but would he show them to you with such smugness imprinted on his face? Nope. "Babe... Are you showing me this because of Vernon?" "No... What makes you think that?" "...Jihoon tell me the truth." He takes the book and runs away immediately, hiding his shyness which was so painfully obvious. "LEE JIHOON GET BACK HERE!!!" And you run after him.

[diamonddaze01]

love you the mostest

pairing: ljh x reader genre: fluffy fluffy fluffy | wc: 2.2k warnings: none | rating: pg a/n: my love letter to lee jihoon - happy birthday <3 // also big thanks to @chanranghaeys for convincing me to write this all as one big fic i love u muah

summary: happy birthday, jihoon.

The room was still dark, save for the faintest sliver of light peeking through the edges of the curtains, hinting at the dawn breaking outside. The soft hum of the early morning and the rhythmic rise and fall of Jihoon’s breath were the only sounds, a quiet lullaby of intimacy.

You had woken up long before your alarm, the quiet stirrings of the city pulling you from sleep. Jihoon’s schedule was packed today, like it always was, and you wanted to steal this moment—when the world was still asleep and his mind hadn't yet been claimed by the chaos. He was so calm in the mornings, his body relaxed and at peace, the stillness of sleep wrapping around him like a comforting blanket.

You shifted slightly under the covers, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, inviting you to stay close. His hand found yours, fingers threading together almost instinctively, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. His exhale tickled your skin as he pulled you in, his face burrowing into the crook of your neck. The familiar weight of him settled against you, grounding you in the moment.

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering there for just a beat longer than usual. Pulling back, you brushed a strand of hair away from his face, his eyes barely open, still clouded with sleep. He blinked up at you, his hand tightening around yours as though to ensure you were real, his lips curving into a soft smile.

"Mm... so early," he mumbled, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep, his breath warm against your skin.

"Sorry, Hoonie," you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. "I couldn’t wait to tell you."

He stirred just a little, his arms pulling you closer, his lips grazing your jawline, a barely audible sound escaping his lips. "Tell me what?"

You grinned at how endearing he looked, his sleepy smile making your heart flutter. "Happy birthday," you whispered, your words soft but full of warmth, just for him, in the quiet stillness of the room.

His eyes fluttered open fully now, the remnants of sleep still clinging to him, and for a moment, it seemed like he didn’t quite understand. Then, a soft, surprised smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his voice, still rough from sleep, was filled with warmth. "It’s too early for that, you know?"

You laughed softly, your fingers threading through his messy hair. "I know. But I wanted to be the first to wish you."

His arms tightened around you, pulling you in closer, his lips brushing against your neck once more as he sighed. "You’re always the first," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "And the best part of my day, too."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel the sincerity in his words, even through the haze of sleep. The morning light, gentle now, cast a soft glow on his face, making him look even more angelic than usual.

"I’m glad," you murmured, your voice full of affection as you tightened your embrace. "You deserve everything, Jihoon. I hope this year brings you all the happiness you deserve."

He sighed contentedly, his eyes slipping shut, the exhaustion of his day lingering in the way he held you close. But then, his lips brushed your cheek, a soft kiss that lingered just long enough to make your heart beat a little faster. It wasn’t rushed or demanding—just gentle, an invitation to stay in this moment with him.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into the kiss, closing your eyes as his lips hovered near your skin, warm and tender. A moment passed, and his mouth brushed the corner of your lips, so faint it almost felt like a dream. The kiss was lazy and slow, drawn out, as though he was savoring the sensation of being close to you.

His hand found its way to your arm, his fingers tracing up your skin with a light touch, sending a shiver down your spine. He tugged you in closer, his body pressing against yours, and the weight of him was both heavy and comforting. The space between you disappeared, leaving only the soft press of his lips and the gentle rhythm of your breath.

"Too far away," he murmured, his voice low and still thick with sleep, as if waking to the reality of the moment. His lips found yours again, this time with more intention, the kiss deepening as if he couldn’t quite pull away. It was slow, not desperate, but full of the kind of closeness that only two people who had shared so many quiet mornings could understand.

You melted into him, your heart fluttering with the familiarity of it all. His lips moved against yours in a rhythm only the two of you knew, a rhythm that spoke of years of being in sync with each other, of a bond forged in the most ordinary yet profound moments.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, both of you breathing softly, trying to slow the quickening beat of your hearts. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and you brushed your fingers through his hair, your heart full with the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"You need to get some rest, Hoonie," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. "You’ve got a long day ahead."

He groaned, a playful pout forming on his lips. "Just a little longer..."

You shook your head gently, kissing his forehead, lingering there for a moment before you tucked yourself closer to him. "No, you’ve got schedules today. You need to sleep."

Jihoon’s arms tightened around you for a second, and he sighed, his face nuzzling into your neck once more. "Fine," he muttered, though you could hear the smile in his voice. "But just a few more minutes."

You grinned, letting yourself relax into him, the warmth of his body and the steady sound of his breathing lulling you both back into the quiet comfort of the morning. The world outside could wait just a little longer.

It’s nearly 2 AM when Jihoon comes home, the faint jingle of his keys breaking the stillness of the apartment. The door creaks open, and the soft shuffle of his sneakers against the hardwood announces his presence. He stands in the entryway, shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion. His eyes are heavy, his body aching from the endless hours spent in the studio.

But then he notices it—the living room.

The space is bathed in a soft, golden glow from the streetlights filtering through the curtains. Balloons in every color scatter across the floor like a rainbow had exploded inside. In the center of the coffee table, a small cake sits proudly, its frosting delicately swirled and an unlit candle standing tall in the middle. The sight alone eases the tight coil of tension in his chest, but it’s the figure on the couch that truly stops him.

It’s you.

You’re curled up, cheek pressed to a throw pillow, legs tucked underneath you. The faint rise and fall of your chest in sleep makes his heart twist. You look so peaceful, your hair slightly mussed and your face soft with dreams. Jihoon stands there for a moment, drinking you in, before a quiet laugh escapes him. How is it that even now, you manage to make him feel like the luckiest person alive?

“Baby?” he calls softly, his voice low and careful, barely above a whisper.

You stir at the sound, a groan escaping your lips as your eyes flutter open. Blinking blearily, you meet his gaze, your expression drowsy but warm.

“Jihoon?” you murmur, your voice laced with sleep.

He steps closer, the corners of his lips tugging upward. “Yeah, love,” he says, moving to the couch and gently lifting your legs to settle them on his lap. His hands are warm and careful as they touch you, and you sigh at the familiarity. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as if to reassure himself that you’re really here. “What’s all this?”

“Birthday surprise,” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep as you rub your eyes.

Jihoon chuckles, a low sound that rumbles deep in his chest. “It’s 2 AM. My birthday’s over, love.”

That wakes you a little more. You sit up abruptly, your mock-serious expression drawing a playful scoff from him. “I’d celebrate with you any day, any time, forever, love of my life,” you declare dramatically, throwing a hand over your heart.

He rolls his eyes, but the warmth in his gaze betrays him. “Alright then, troublemaker,” he teases, “let’s celebrate.”

Sliding off the couch, Jihoon pulls you with him, settling himself on the floor in front of the coffee table. He tugs at your hands until you’re seated sideways in his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist like they were made to anchor you there.

His gaze flickers to the candle. “Well?” he prompts, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Aren’t you going to light it?”

You reach for the lighter, flicking it until a tiny flame dances atop the wick. The room glows warmly, the light catching on Jihoon’s features—his sharp jawline, the soft curve of his lips, and the faint tiredness that lingers in his eyes. Your breath hitches. He’s always been beautiful, but in this moment, with his gaze fixed only on you, he’s breathtaking.

You hum a quiet, off-key rendition of Happy Birthday, and Jihoon sways you gently as you sing, his hands rubbing slow circles into your back. When you finish, he leans forward to blow out the candle, the flame flickering briefly before disappearing.

“Make a wish?” you ask softly.

His lips curve into a faint smile. “Don’t need to,” he murmurs, his voice like a secret meant only for you. “I already have everything I want.”

The words make your heart stutter. He leans back against the couch, and you press a kiss to his cheek, then another to his jawline, your lips brushing against his skin as softly as the light in the room.

Jihoon reaches for the cake with his fingers, tearing off a small piece and holding it out to you. “Forgot the plates, huh?” he teases, his lips twitching with amusement.

You laugh, taking the offered bite. The frosting melts on your tongue, sugary and sweet, but nothing compares to the warmth that blooms in your chest at the sound of his laughter.

“You know,” he muses, brushing a thumb over the corner of your lips to catch a stray crumb, “in Brazil, people give the first slice of their birthday cake to the person they love most.”

The simple, tender confession undoes you. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. It’s soft and deep, and he sighs against your lips, his hands tightening around your waist. He tastes like frosting and everything good in the world, and you think you could drown in him forever.

“Happy birthday, Jihoon,” you whisper when you finally pull back, your foreheads resting together. “I love you the most, too.”

His lips brush against your temple as he replies, “Thank you, my love.”

The two of you sit there for a while in comfortable silence, the hum of the city outside a faint backdrop to Jihoon’s voice as he softly hums a melody into your hair.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, love?” he answers, his tone low and warm.

“It’s not your birthday anymore.”

A faint smirk curves his lips. “Well done, troublemaker. Very astute observation.”

A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you dip your finger into the frosting. “So that means I can do this!”

Before he can react, you swipe your frosting-covered hand across his cheek, leaving a trail of sprinkles and sugary chaos behind.

For a moment, he just stares at you, mouth agape in mock horror. Then his eyes narrow, and a grin overtakes his features.

“Why, you little—”

You’re on your feet in an instant, laughter spilling from your lips as you dart toward the bedroom. Jihoon’s laughter rings out as he chases you, catching you with ease and tackling you onto the bed.

“Got you now,” he declares, pinning your wrists to the mattress, his fingers digging mercilessly into your sides as you shriek with laughter.

“Jihoon, stop!” you gasp between giggles. “The sheets—they’re new!”

He pauses, his expression mock-serious. “Fine,” he relents, releasing your wrists. “Only because the sheets are white.”

“And because you love me?” you tease, still catching your breath.

“And because I love you,” he calls over his shoulder as he heads to the bathroom. “I love you the mostest. Thank you for the best birthday.”

Lying back on the bed, you let out a contented sigh, your heart full. There’s no one else you’d rather celebrate with—2 AM or not.

[hellohannie]

Return of the Enchantress (m) | ljh

“𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙙 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚.”

a year ago, jihoon had come across a forest nymph who had inadvertently stolen his heart. after a passionate night together, they agreed to meet again exactly a year later. here jihoon was now, exactly a year, down to the second, later. will you come to him? will he finally be able to take you home? part of the enchantress of the forest series. read part one here!

♡ PLAYERS - lee jihoon x reader

♡ WORD COUNT - 6.3K

♡ TAGS - fantasy au, faerie!reader, fluff, minor angst, smut (MDNI): fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it friends)

♡ NOTES - hi everyone! thank you so much for waiting patiently for me. things have been hectic for me and i haven't had the time to really sit and write. i also found myself just hating everything i wrote so i didn't want to upload anything

unfortunately, i don't see my update schedule being any quicker or more consistent in the near future, so i apologize for that. still, thank you to everyone who likes, comments and reblogs, it lets me know that there are people who enjoy my content, and it motivates me to write more!

THERE WILL BE A PART 3 and i promise it'll be updated sooner. i'm actually already a third of the way done with it right now. i just figured it would be better to split this part into two, so that's why there's another part. so please look forward to some conflicts and jihoon in faerieland? *wink wink*

i hope you all enjoy, and please be sure to interact! i love the feedback!

Jihoon’s breaths were loud and heavy as he sprinted through the forest, leaves and branches crunching under his footsteps. He glanced at the watch on his wrist. 5:58am. He pushed himself to run faster. He had two more minutes before the sun broke the horizon. Two more minutes until it was exactly a year since he last saw you. He thought about this moment every day for the past year and by God, did he hope you’d be waiting for him like he imagined in his dreams. 

The campsite loomed into view as Jihoon came to a stop and took in his surroundings. The tent was gone, but the ring of bricks surrounding the bonfire was still there, only now covered in moss from lack of use. Jihoon’s chest felt tight as he remembered the way you were perched in front of it that fateful night, the first time he saw you. 

Jihoon then walked up to the large oak tree you disappeared behind that next morning, staring in hopes that you’d materialize in front of it. He felt a buzz on his wrist. It was his watch telling him a new hour had started. It was six. The sky around him was a blend of pinks and blues and oranges as the sun arose, waking up the world. 

Suddenly, Jihoon felt an itch on his pinky. “No, no no no.” He whispered, holding his left hand up to his face. It was his flower ring. The once perfectly bloomed dandelion was now dried and scratching his skin. The enchantment was gone. 

Jihoon slid to his knees as he began to imagine the worst. It had been exactly a year since you left. You promised to meet him here, but you were nowhere to be found. Not only that, the enchantment on his ring was gone. That could only mean one thing. You must’ve lost your magic. The Queen must’ve denied your request to live on Earth and punished you. 

Jihoon began to cry, wracked with guilt at the thought that it was his fault that you were met with such a fate. “Y/N,” he whimpered. “I’m so sorry-”

“Jihoon?” 

The blond snapped his head up, brushing tears out of his eyes to clear his sight. There you stood, silhouetted by the backlight of the sun, like a vision from the dreams that plagued his every second. Jihoon shook his head as if clearing cobwebs from his mind, making sure that what he was seeing was reality and not a delusion. 

“Jihoon Darling,” you took a step forward, concerned. “You are crying.”

Jihoon stayed frozen on the forest floor, staring at you. He was spellbound, reminded again of how beautiful you truly were. Like the first time he saw you, you were wearing a white dress that flowed like water around your calves as it caught the wind. However, the dress was far more intricate this time, with the sleeves coming to capped hems just below your elbow, causing the fabric to bubble around your arm like a balloon. The neckline was trimmed with eyelet lace, as was the skirt hem. The fabric was cinched in at your waist, held tight with a glimmering fabric tied into a bow. 

Your hair had been loose and curled in ringlets a year ago, but now, it was weaved into a long, thick braid hanging over your shoulder. Millions of little flowers adorned the silky strands from the crown of your head to the very tip of the braid. 

Jihoon’s eyes flitted across your face as you moved closer, taking in the details that had faded in his memory through the year. He re-memorized everything, from the slant of your eyes to the arch of your brows, the high bridge of your nose, the glimmer in your eyes as you looked at him so lovingly. The movement of your plush lips caught his attention first before your tinkling voice registered in his ears.

“Jihoon,” you giggled as he flinched, snapping himself out of your reverie. By now, you had crouched in front of him, hands placed gently at his elbows.  “Come, let’s get you to your feet.”

As soon as you were both standing, Jihoon lunged to wrap his arms around your waist and lift you into a tight embrace. He felt all the tension leave his body as he heard your laughter in his ears and felt your arms glide around his neck. You were here. Finally.

“I missed you,” he murmured into the crook of your neck, breathing in the familiar petrichor scent that bled from your skin. “I missed you Faerie-”

“Ah,” you interrupted. “That, I am no longer.” You pulled back with a serene expression as Jihoon set you on your feet.

“What?”

“I am no longer a Faerie.” 

That was when Jihoon realized that while there were so many parts of you that remained unchanged from the last time he saw you, there were also parts that were different. Your pointed ears were now rounded at the tips, and while you felt warm in his grasp, you did not feel nearly as fragile as before. Perhaps the biggest difference of all, you did not have the glow around your body that had first caught Jihoon’s attention all those days ago. Your skin didn’t shimmer as if you were otherworldly. Nothing about you screamed otherworldly. You look like him. You looked…

“Human,” Jihoon gasped. “You’re human? Meeting with the Queen, it worked?”

You nodded, a hand hesitantly reaching up to cup his cheek. “Are you disappointed? That I am ordinary.”

“No,” he responded fiercely, pulling you in closer by your waist. “You are not ordinary and you could never disappoint me. If you’re human, that means you left your world for me. A woman who is so brave as to leave behind all she’s ever known and loved for me is…is anything but ordinary.” He pressed his forehead to yours, the tips of your noses brushing against each other. “I was worried this day would never come, that I would never get to hold you, kiss you, tell you that I love you.”

“You do not have to worry any longer, sweet Jihoon, I’m yours. Eternally.” 

Jihoon is unsure who leaned in first, all he is aware of is the feeling of your pillowy lips against his own, and the feeling of finally being at home. His hands trailed up your sides up to your jaw, tipping your head back to deepen the kiss. You parted your lips in a soft sigh, and Jihoon took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. With a quiet moan, you pushed your body closer to his, your kisses picking up speed. 

“Jihoon,” you murmured, but he quickly silenced you with another kiss. 

“Missed you so much, Y/N,” he groaned, lips brushing against yours with every word. “Missed you so much, don’t wanna let go, wish we could just teleport home.” 

You slid your fingers into his hair, using the grip to tug him back. “Jihoon,” you said, a bit more sternly, with a sheepish grin. His eyes slid open lazily. “I’m afraid we have company.” Your eyes glanced to your right. His followed and widened as he took in the forest animals that encircled the two of you. All around him, perched in the grass were golden deer and silver bunnies, russet foxes and red squirrels. There were hummingbirds and butterflies littering the trees, while fireflies and honey bees buzzed around in the air. 

You slipped out from his arms and glided over to a shimmering deer, gently petting its head. “There are my friends,” you turned to give Jihoon a blinding smile. “They kept me company as I looked after my part of the forest, long before I met you.” 

Jihoon stared in awe as the animals moved to be near you, reveling in your laughter as you let the wildlife jump into your lap or sit on your shoulders. However, despite your laughter, Jihoon thought he could hear crying and whining. You must’ve heard the same because you said, “They are confused why I can no longer understand them and why they can no longer understand me.”

That’s right, Jihoon thought, when she was a faerie, she could communicate with them, but now that she’s given up her powers…

“Do you mind if I sing to them one last time before we go? They used to fall asleep to the sound of my voice, and I do not want them to see me leave. I would rather their last memory of me be something blissful.”

Jihoon nodded, taking a seat in the grass. Goosebumps arose on his skin as you began to sing, your voice both captivating and soothing. He watched as the animals around you began to lay down, eyes falling closed as your song sent them into dreamland. Jihoon, too, closed his eyes, not because he was falling asleep, but to give you even a semblance of privacy. Your song was not only a goodbye to your friends, but a goodbye to the only life you’d ever known, a life Jihoon was never a part of. It didn’t feel right to intrude on this last moment of yours. 

By the time the two of you made your trek back to the houses the boys stayed at last time, the sun was already high in the sky. You did all of the talking, rambling on about the land of Faerie, and what you’d been doing this past year.

“I’ll admit,” you said, swinging yours and Jihoon’s arms as you walked, “The Queen was rather shocked when I made my request. I’d never expressed discontent with my position as a forest nymph before, so asking to have my powers stripped was unexpected. However, when I told her it was because I had fallen in love…” You looked up at him with an affectionate smile. “Well, she said it was the first time she was delighted to strip a Faerie of their powers.”

Jihoon sighed in relief. “I’m not going to lie, I was worried she might not have taken it so well.” He lifted your interlocked hands up and wiggled his pinky, the dried flower ring still wrapped around it. “When this happened, I was afraid you’d been punished.”

“Ah,” you soothed, “That must’ve been because my powers could no longer uphold the enchantment. There’s no need to worry, see?” You hopped in front and turned to face him, arms spread wide. “I’m just fine and here with you. We don’t need enchanted rings anymore. I can make you a new one every morning.”

Jihoon could feel his heart swell with adoration, your optimism endearing and contagious. Just as he stepped forward to swing you into his arms again, a soccer ball came rolling on the ground, bumping against your bare feet. 

You made a questioning sound, bending to pick up the ball. “What is this?” You held it up to your face, brows furrowed in scrutiny. 

“I’m so sor-woah,” a boy with brown and blond streaked hair jogged towards you, eyes wide, arms frozen from where they had been reaching to take the ball from you. “Who are you?”

You tilted your chin up slightly, face blank as you held yourself with an air of regality, similar to when you first encountered Jihoon. “I am Y/N, a forest n- I am Y/N. You are?”

The boy, still awe-struck, responded, “I’m wondering where you’ve been all my life.”

“Soonyoung,” Jihoon snapped from his spot slightly behind you. He took the ball gently from your fingers before chucking it at his friend’s shoulder. This shocked Soonyoung out of his trace and he glared at Jihoon while clutching his arm. 

“Ow!”

“Soonyoung?” you whispered, unminding of the squabble happening next to you. “Soonyoung!” You explained louder, this time catching the boys’ attention. “You’re Jihoon’s best friend!”

Jihoon flushed bright red and Soonyoung began to coo, “Awhhh Jiiiii~ You’ve been telling strangers I’m your best friendddd~ Wait!” Soonyoung’s head snapped towards you. “Oh my God you’re the girl from the forest! The nymph!” He snatched up your hand and gave you a vigorous handshake. “Does this mean you’re coming home with us? Jihoon refused to tell us anything about you, wanted to keep you a secret.”

Your eyes darted between the hyper boy in front of you and the stoic one to the right, the latter rolling his eyes. “Yeah yeah, this is her, now let go,” Jihoon jerked Soonyoung back with a grip on his shoulder. 

You laughed, a bit endeared by the energy vibrating in Soonyoung. He reminded you of the little pixies from home that zipped around from place to place in the blink of an eye. “It is nice to meet you Soonyoung. I hope you don’t mind that I’ll be joining you on your journey home.”

He shook his head frantically, “Of course not! C’mon,” he grabbed your elbow, albeit gently, “Everyone else has been dying to meet you!”

Soonyoung directed you towards the smattering of houses, Jihoon following closely behind. As the three of you approached, you could hear a cacophony of voices and laughter. Soonyoung brought you to an open space covered by a canopy, where eleven other boys were bent over something. The smell of food and smoke engulfed you as the boy holding your arm yelled, “Guys she’s here!”

In unison, all the heads snapped towards you. You took a step back into Jihoon’s chest, his hands coming to rest reassuringly on your shoulders. It was silent for just a moment before all hell broke loose. 

“Oh my God!”

“You made it!”

“Oh she’s so precious!”

“I told you she’d come back!”

“Ugh fine you were right, here’s the $20 bucks.”

“Wait,” Jihoon moved you to the side and stepped towards two of the boys. “You bet on us?”

As the boys struggled to defend themselves, a familiar blond with long hair stepped towards you, a kind smile on his face. You recognized him from a year ago. He was at the tent with his partner the night before you met Jihoon. The one you thought might have Faerie blood running through his veins. 

“Hi, I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Jeonghan. This is Joshua,” he gestured to the man standing beside him, “We were at the forest last year too.”

“I remember,” you ducked your head, wishing your hair was loose so it would hide your flushed cheeks. You remembered coming across their intimate moment, trying not to intrude, but unable to block out the noise due to your enhanced senses. Although, even now, without your powers, it was obvious these men were fated mates. They were truly in love. 

Jeonghan and Joshua held back their laughter, not wanting to embarrass you any further.  

Joshua leaned down a bit, lowering his voice. “I hope you don’t mind that we sent Jihoon to your forest the next day. He was feeling a bit stressed, and we hoped a night away would bring him some peace.”

You flushed even more at this, your collarbones starting to turn red. “It’s alright. I’m…thankful. Actually,” you picked your head up, looking them both in the eyes before clasping your hands in front of you and dipping into a slight curtsey, “I’m indebted to you both, for bringing my soulmate to me. I’m not sure we would ever have met if not for you.”

Jeonghan stepped forward, bringing you back to standing with a hold on your upper arms. “There is no need for that. You are one of us now Y/N, you’re family. Family does not hold debts.” Joshua nodded, giving you a soft pet on the back of your head. 

Your chest felt warm. Family. You did not have a family in Faerieland. Yes you had friends of all different species, but no one that called you family. “I never had anyone to call family at home.”

The boys shared a pitying glance before bringing you into an embrace. “Well then,” said Joshua, “We are honored to be the first to call you sister.”

You sniffled, and it was loud enough to catch Jihoon’s attention. “She’s been here all of five minutes and the evil twins are already making her cry,” he grumbled, pulling you into his side. “C’mon let’s go inside before the rest of them harass you even more.”

You and Jihoon walked into the warm dining hall together, his brothers’ (and now your brothers’) laughter echoing behind you. 

“Lunch is served!” the tallest boy, who you now know as Mingyu, announced as he took the lids off the twenty something dishes lining the lengthy table. You were sitting in the middle of one of the benches, as per Jihoon’s insistence, something about it being easy to reach all the food. Jeonghan, who was sitting on the other side of you, nudged your waist with his elbow. You moved your gaze from the food to Jeonghan who motioned with his chin to the table. “Ladies first.”

It was only then that you noticed no one was filling their plates. Rather, they were all looking at you expectantly, but excitedly, especially Mingyu. You felt shy under their gazes. “I’m…I’m not familiar with human food,” you glanced at Jihoon before turning towards Mingyu. “Would you be able to describe your dishes to me?”

Mingyu was bouncing on his feet. “Of course! No one has ever asked me before! So this…” As Mingyu began to explain each dish to you, you felt your mouth start to water more and more. That is until he got to the center dish. “And this is the main course for today, galbi. It’s grilled beef short ribs-”

You shrieked in horror, hands covering your mouth as you shot to your feet. Everyone, including Jihoon, stared at you in concern. “Faerie, what’s wrong?”

“You all eat cows?” You were appalled, and even felt a bit sick. In Faerieland, cows were sacred. They provided the people of your land with milk which allowed you to create butter, cheese and other products, like in the human world. In addition however, cow’s milk in Faerieland had healing properties, and could be used in potions or with pixie dust to create potent magic. Cows were cared for, they were your friends. You couldn’t imagine taking their life and eating them. 

“I’m, I’m sorry, I-” you scrambled over the bench, giving them all a quick bow in apology. “I must step away.” You ran out the door.

The rest of the boys, in a stupor, turned to Jihoon for an explanation. The latter groaned, dropping his head in his hands. “I didn’t even realize, she probably doesn’t eat meat.” He quickly explained how the forest animals were your friends, so the same must be for all animals in Faerieland. “It’s my fault. I should’ve known better than to think the customs in our world would be the same as the ones in her world.”

“It’s ok Jihoon,” Seungcheol soothed. “You didn’t know. She’s not going to hold that against you. Now you know that there’s going to be a lot of things she needs to learn, but you won't be alone, we’ll all help, right?” He looked around the table. Everyone nodded their heads in agreement.

“Here Hyung,” Seungkwan handed Jihoon a plate full of vegetarian dishes. “Take this to her so she doesn’t starve. I think that’s a good place to start.”

Jihoon took the plate from the younger with a grateful look. “Thanks Kwan, thanks everyone.”

With that, he walked towards the guest house next to the mess hall calling out your name. “Y/N! Are you in here?” As he stepped into the house, he saw you curled into a ball, sitting on the couch. “Faerie, I’m so sorry. I should’ve remembered that our customs, including diets, are probably completely different. You even told me that animals are considered friends in Faerieland, I should’ve been more careful.”

“No,” you turned to face Jihoon who was sitting next to you on the couch, crossing your legs to sit criss-cross. “It is not your fault. I also should’ve been more composed. I hope you know I do not judge the food you eat. We all have different practices. There’s a lot I must learn about the human world, as expected. Mistakes will be made, but it is never the fault of you or I.” Your gaze shifted to the plate, and as if on cue, your stomach grumbled loudly. 

You shot Jihoon a sheepish look as he laughed endearingly. “Here, Seungkwan piled the plate with vegetables. Do you want to try?” You nodded excitedly. “Ok, here, this is kimchi,” he held the chopsticks up to your mouth, watching expectantly as you chewed. “Good?” Your eyes were wide. “Guess so,” he laughed, picking up something else with the chopsticks. “This is tofu, it is made from crushed beans...” Jihoon watched fondly as you ate everything on the plate, glad that he was able to at least provide some food that you liked. He would make sure to be more diligent in the future as you continued to navigate life in the human world.

That night, you and Jihoon came across another slight issue. After dinner (at which time you apologized to everyone for making a spectacle and for potentially offending them and thanked Mingyu for making extra vegetarian food for you this time), Jihoon asked you to get ready for bed in his room as the members discussed their plans to return to Seoul the next day. He was exhausted as he walked back to his room, stressed from how he was going to explain to the company that he returned from vacation with a girl. 

The shock he received when he opened the door however was enough to re-energize him. “Oh my God!” he shouted, quickly shutting the door behind him and turning to face it. “Why are you in your underwear?”

You answered innocently, “I always sleep like this. The cottages in our land get warm at night as we must close all the doors and windows. Though it is a bit cold in this room.”

Jihoon turned to catch a glimpse of your face, and saw goosebumps littering your skin. He quickly turned back around, moving to the closet near the door. He grabbed a soft shirt of his and tossed it over his shoulder towards where he hoped the bed was. “Put this on.”

The noise of clothes rustling filled the silence before you muttered, “Ok, done.”

Jihoon turned around, relieved that you were somewhat clothed now. “Faerie,” he knelt onto the bed beside you, but you refused to look at him, choosing to pick at a loose thread on the duvet. He placed a finger under your chin, turning your head towards him. Your lips were slightly pouted, eyes a bit teary. “I’m sorry for shouting, I was just surprised and also didn’t want anyone else to see you like that.” You nodded, understandingly. “But darling, you can’t just be in your underwear in the human world ok?”

You quirked your head in confusion. “Why not? It’s nothing you haven’t seen.”

Jihoon choked on his saliva. “I-yes that’s true, but it’s not so much that as it’s just common practice to wear clothes to bed. Sometimes, the room is really cold, so you’ll want to bundle up, understand?”

“Yeah…” you hesitated. “Ok. It’s just…This material is kind of scratchy.”

“That’s my fault,” Jihoon sighed. He never really cared too much about the condition of his home clothes, so usually, he’d just throw them in the washer and dryer without using softening agents. It was safe to say that quite a few of his clothes were not in the most pristine condition due to his lack of care. “I promise, as soon as we get back to Seoul tomorrow, we’ll go out and get you some comfortable clothes to sleep in.”

You conceded with a nod, leaning into his chest. “Are you excited to go home tomorrow?”

Jihoon shrugged. “I guess. I don’t necessarily want to get back to my usual life, but it’ll be nice to have you with me. Are you excited?”

You were silent for a while. “Would you be upset if I said no?”

Jihoon pulled you away from his chest by your shoulders. “No, but I’d be concerned. What’s the matter?”

You turned your gaze down to your lap. “It’s not that I’m not excited to live in your home, with you. It’s just that…I still feel a bit connected to Faerieland here, amongst the trees and nature. I suppose I’m just going to feel homesick for a while.”

“I understand that, Y/N, and it’s normal. Moving away from home is not easy, and the transition is hard. It might be even harder for you since this is a completely different world, I won’t lie, but I promise to be with you every step of the way. If you tell me whatever you're feeling, whenever you feel down, I’ll do everything I can to make it better, ok?” Jihoon cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs grazing your cheekbones. His eyes were so full of love, you couldn’t help but surge forward to kiss him. A gasp of surprise caught in his throat as he quickly reciprocated. 

“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips. “Thank you for finding me, for loving me, for giving me hope that I belong somewhere, with someone, with you.” You brought your right hand up to his chest, placing it over his heart. He did the same, leaning in to kiss you in time with the synchronized beating of your hearts. 

“Wait,” Jihoon tried to speak, but you kept kissing him anyway. He chuckled, “Faerie, wait. We have to talk about the plan tomorrow.”

You shook your head vehemently, “Not right now.” You nipped at his bottom lip, smirking as he hissed. “Wanna keep doing this.” 

With a firm hand and the shock factor on your side, you pushed Jihoon down onto the bed, crawling to sit on his thighs. You traced a lone finger along his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, across his cheeks. Your lips followed behind your finger, peppering kisses to every inch of his face. Jihoon’s hands came to grip your waist tightly as you moved to his neck, kisses becoming more firm, teeth nipping at the skin. You slipped your hands under the hem of his shirt, your touch tickling his abdomen. 

Jihoon moved your face back to his, taking the lead to deepen the kiss this time. He moved a hand to your hair, fingers getting caught on the flowers thread into the ridges of the braids. Slowly, he sat up, still holding your body to his. Then he pulled away, pulling at the ribbon at the end of your braid, placing it gently on the bedside table. 

“Turn around,” he murmured. You did so, wondering what he was doing as you felt the bed dip behind you. Jihoon was kneeling now, delicately undoing your hair, taking care not to crush any of the petals he pulled out. “Your hair looked so pretty, didn't want to ruin it.”

You tilted your head into his hands, humming as he massaged your scalp. “The younglings of the court did it for me. The Queen held a farewell ceremony for me, where I could hand over my powers to my successor and say goodbye to everyone. It’s also why I was wearing a much more intricate dress.” Jihoon took note of the dress you had draped onto the chaise lounge in the corner of his room, making a mental note to find a garment bag to place it in while packing tomorrow. “The flowers are handpicked from the Queen’s court. Nymphs rarely get to see those blooms, let alone hold them. I wish I had asked a flora nymph to enchant them so they would never wilt.”

Jihoon placed a kiss behind your ear, hoping to distract you from the regret seeping into your voice. “They are beautiful,” he whispered in your ear, causing you to giggle from the way his breath tickled, “but not nearly as beautiful as you.”

You snorted, and in that moment, you sounded more human than ever. “Cheesy.”

You squealed as Jihoon pulled you back onto the pillows, pinning your hands by your head as he hovered over you. “But it’s true, and I’ll tell you that over and over until I can’t speak a word anymore. I want it to be the first thing you hear in the morning and the last thing you hear before you go to bed. You’re beautiful. And I love you.”

You blushed, the color in your cheeks highlighted against the white pillows cushioning your head. Jihoon had a way with words that left you winded every time. “I love you too. Will you kiss me again?”

“Gladly.” Jihoon kissed you until you were breathless, and it filled him with pride. The last time you two were together, you were an otherworldly creature. You didn’t lose your breath when he kissed you. Your skin didn’t sweat or flush as much. You didn’t look affected by his ministrations at all. This time though, you were human, so your chest heaved as you caught your breath, your skin was pink and your bangs clung to your forehead, wet with perspiration. 

And Jihoon loved it. 

He walked the fingers of his left hand from your forearm to your own, entangling them. At the same time, he brought his right hand down to trace the top of your thigh, just below where the hem of his t-shirt lay. You shivered, his gentle touch causing a fire to ignite in your belly. 

With one hand still holding your own, Jihoon slipped the other one under your shirt and up your body, placing it on your bra, over your breast. He used the tip of his index finger to trace down your cleavage.

You whined, “Don’t tease.” 

Jihoon relented, pulling the cup of your bra down and squeezing your breast. Your nipple pebbled instantly against his palm and you groaned into his mouth when he pinched it with his fingers. Now desperate for more, Jihoon moved his hand to your back, effortlessly undoing the clasp with one hand. Then, he pulled away, ripping your shirt, bra and panties off your body until you laid bare beneath him. 

He stared, bewitched by your beauty. Last time, it was night and the moonlight was blocked by the tent, preventing Jihoon from truly seeing you. Now, with the illumination from the bedside lamps, Jihoon could truly admire you. He let his eyes roam every expanse of skin on your body. He took note of the moles and scars he couldn’t see before, each one adding to your beauty.

“You’re a vision, Y/N,” he whispered, not wanting to shatter the atmosphere enveloping you both. “Want to cherish every piece of you.” He placed a dainty kiss on your sternum. “Will you let me, my love?”

You answered with an impatient whimper, thrusting your chest towards his face. Jihoon let out a huff of laughter and took your nipple into his mouth. You tangled your fingers into his hair, forcing his mouth to your other breast after he spent a few minutes sucking and biting the first one raw. 

Jihoon took his time with you, placing kisses and sucking bruises into the swell of your breasts, the plush of your belly, down to the tops of your thighs. Then he wrapped his hands around your knees, making them bend until your feet were pressed into the mattress before spreading them apart. He nearly groaned out loud at the way your pussy glistened with wetness. Sliding his arms down to wrap around your thighs, Jihoon used the grip to lurch your body down the bed, bringing your cunt to his mouth.

You squealed, back arching when you felt the suction of his lips on your clit. He hadn’t done this the last time, and the slippery sensation of Jihoon’s tongue was only feeding the flames in your belly. You wanted-

“More,” you moaned. “Need more Ji.”

“Yeah?” Jihoon traced your opening with his finger, dipping just his nail inside. “Little Faerie isn’t satisfied? Always greedy for more.”

You whined his name again, wriggling against the iron grip he had on your thighs that kept you from sliding down on his finger. 

“Don’t worry, you know I’ll always take care of you.” With that, Jihoon slipped two fingers inside of you, curling them up until they brushed just right against your g-spot. Your hands shot down to his head, pressing him deeper into your pussy as you tried to push your knees together. Jihoon loosened his grip, allowing you to bring your thighs against his face, keeping him locked. Jihoon thought he’d be content to die like this, with a tombstone that read: Here lies Lee Jihoon, death by suffocation in pussy.

Your fingers curled tighter into his hair as you cried, “I’m so close. Jihoon.” One last suck of your clit was all it took, and with a strangled sob, you gushed around his fingers, the silken walls pulsating. Your hands flung from his hair to the sheets, where you gripped them like a lifeline. Jihoon held your ankles as your thighs quivered, hips nearly coming off the bed as you bent up like a bowstring. Your mouth was open as you let out a loud moan, eyes rolled back so far you could see white. After a few seconds, your legs fell limply to the bed as you came down from your high. 

Jihoon laughed as he pressed a wet kiss to your lips. “You have to be more quiet, Faerie. Don’t want the other guys to hear what a deviant you really are.”

You muttered a sheepish apology as you wrapped your legs around Jihoon's waist, pitching your middle up to grind against the bulge in his pants. You pawed at his shirt, pulling at the collar to send him a message that you wanted it off. As Jihoon tore his shirt over his head, you pushed up onto your elbows, placing feather light kisses to his pecs. Your fingers slipped into the waistband of his pants, shoving it down, along with his boxers. Jihoon hissed at the way your hand encircled his hard cock, thumb grazing the tip to collect his precum and spread it down the shaft. 

You waited until he managed to kick the fabric away from his ankles before gently tugging him forward with the hand on his dick, angling it towards your entrance. 

“Already?” he asked, astounded. “You’re not sensitive?”

“Don’t care,” you mumbled, reaching up to place your lips against his ear. “I’m so desperate for you, Jihoon.”

Jihoon tipped his head towards the ceiling and groaned, “Fuuuuck.” When he looked down at you again, now splayed out onto the sheets like a doll, his pupils were blown, eyes alight with desire. “I’m gonna ruin you, Faerie.” 

He flipped you over, hauling you onto your knees. He pressed his chest to your back, guiding the corner of the duvet into your mouth. “Bite down on this. You’ll need it to stay quiet.” You did as he asked, earning a kiss to your temple before he leaned back up. 

Then, he brought his cock to you, tracing the tip of it along your pussylips to gather the slickness. “Ready?” 

One nod was all it took for Jihoon to thrust the entirety of his length into you. Your eyes screwed shut, scream muffled by the cloth in your mouth. Jihoon set off at an incredible speed, the force moving your body up towards the headboard. A veiny forearm wrapped around your chest, just under your tits, yanking you up onto all fours. Your teeth dug into the duvet, refusing to let it go despite it being wet with your saliva and tears. 

“You’re so tight baby,” Jihoon’s voice was strained, as if it was taking everything he had not to come at the sensation of your cunt gripping him. He bit down onto your shoulder, sucking a constellation of bruises onto your shoulder blade. 

A particularly sharp thrust caused your mouth to drop open in a strangled gasp. “Feels so good, oh my God, oh,” you babbled. “Thought about this every day since I left. Needed it so badly. Ached for you, Jihoon.”

“Naughty nymph,” Jihoon mock scolded. “Bet you touched yourself thinking about me, huh? All alone in the dark, trying so hard to stay quiet, with your little fingers stuffed in your pussy. It wasn’t enough though was it? Needed me there with you, to feel you, touch you, make you cum. Isn’t that right.”

“Yes, wasn't enough without you,” you moaned. “Fuck, don’t stop!”

“Never,” Jihoon growled, the hand not holding you up moving to draw messy circles on your clit. “You’re mine, Faerie. Gonna fuck you like this every hour of every day. Never letting you off my cock.”

You cried his name like a prayer, letting his words send you crashing into your second orgasm. It felt wet and slippery. You could feel the inside of your things get soaked, but you didn’t have the energy to care. All you had left in you was one last clench of your walls, and it was just enough to send Jihoon to his release as well. He groaned loudly, fingers digging into your sides so hard you were sure the skin would bruise. His hips were pressed tightly against your ass, breath warm against your spine where his head was resting. Together, you both flopped forward onto the bed. 

You laid there, wrapped up in each other, until your breathing returned to normal. Jihoon shivered as he pulled out of you, placing an apologetic kiss to your shoulder when you whined. “Have to clean you up, love. One minute.”

After using a wet cloth to wipe you both down, he sent you to the bathroom. In the meantime, he replaced the sheets on the bed, shocked at the amount of wetness soaking them. That’s something we’ll have to explore again, he thought. 

When you returned from the bathroom, he slipped his shirt onto your body again, joining you under the duvet after slipping on a fresh pair of boxers himself. He smiled as you snuggled up to his side, placing your ear against his heart. 

“I love you, my Fate. I’m so thankful that it’s you I get to be with for the rest of my days,” you whispered, eyelids getting heavy.

“Me too, my love. Me too,” Jihoon said, placing a kiss on your head as you fell asleep. He was still unsure how to bring you up to the agency, and how to assimilate you into his life in the human world, but that was a worry for tomorrow. For right now, he chose to revel in how perfectly you fit in his arms, and how his heartbeat matched your own. He chose to trust the universe, because it brought him to you.

[hanniescookie]

the one - ljh

pairing - lee jihoon x f!reader

genre/warnings - est. relationship, petnames, angst, slight fluff, skinship, anxiety, comfort,

summary - all your past relationships have left you with nothing but an unending fear of things ending too soon. but lee jihoon is different.

wc - 0.9K

author's note - to the anon that requested this, thank you so much for doing so, and i hope this is worth it 🤍

Is it my fault again?

The question rings in your head over and over again, involuntarily keeping you from a much needed slumber. You stare at the empty spot on the bed next to you, hand reaching out to caress the cold place.

It has been nearly a week since you haven't been able to properly see your boyfriend. You weren't able to meet him because he has been stuck in the studio for many days. When you did go to visit him there on one occasion, you were disappointed to see him caught up with work to the point that he couldn't even greet you fully before he had to go. You know he's busy with work. You can't blame him for not being able to make time for you because you understand.

Yet, there is a lingering stress in your mind that threatens to eat you up. It has only been six months since you've started dating him — two months more than what your past relationships averagely ever lasted.

You'd always been worried about this growing thing between you both, and it always made you insecure. Afraid. Of loosing him, of losing everything you built just like always.

Your hand reaches out to unlock your phone again to check for any messages but there are none. Jihoon hasn't responded to your texts, nor has he contacted you himself.

You know what this means. You've been here before. You're aware of how this ends.

Your brain goes into an overdrive, and you suddenly feel like choking on nothing. There's a growing lump in your throat that begins to resist your air supply, and you sit up in restlessness, tears streaming down your face before you know it.

You cannot do this. You cannot loose Jihoon. Not him. Has he really given up on you?

“Y/N?”

You hear him before you see him. Jihoon is walking inside the bedroom, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to make sense of your state. You regain your senses a little at his sight, but it also makes you more breathless.

“Babe, are you okay?” His concern-filled voice reaches your ears after his hands cup your face. He scans your whole face, thumb involuntarily wiping at the wetness on your cheeks.

You try to speak, but your voice cracks, and all that comes out is a sob. Jihoon's expression softens, and he pulls you into a tight hug, holding you close as you cry.

You can tell he's trying not to panic, and you know he's sick worried.

"It's alright," he whispers into your ear. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

His words make you tighten yourself in his arms. Even when you haven't said a word, he knows just what to say to make you feel better.

He gently guides you to lie back down, and he joins you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you. He holds you in silence for a while, letting you cry it out.

When you finally calm down, he speaks up, his voice low yet firm. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to spend time with you lately. I know it's been tough. But it's not because I don't want to be with you. It's just...work has been crazy."

You sniffle, looking up at him "I know. I'm sorry. I just...I feel like I'm losing you."

Jihoon's grip on you tightens, and he softly caresses the back of your head. "You're not losing me, Y/N. I promise. I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere."

He pauses, taking a deep breath. "You're my priority, love. You and us. I know I haven't been showing it lately, but that doesn't mean my feelings have changed. You're the one I want to come home to. Nothing can change that as long as you want the same.”

Suddenly, you want to cry more. You feel a weight lift off your shoulders as you look up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

"Really?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. You continue looking at him, his eyes shining with conviction, and your heart swells with indecipherable emotions. You feel a lump form in your throat again, but this time, it's not from sadness or anxiety. It's from the overwhelming love and gratitude you feel for this man.

"Really," Jihoon repeats, his voice filled with affection. He leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle kiss.

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his touch seep into your skin. You feel assured now, and your tears dry as a soft smile spreads across your face.

Jihoon pulls back, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles back at you. "I'm sorry again for making you worry," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I promise to do better, to make more time for you."

You shake your head, your smile growing wider. "You don't have to apologize, babe. I know you're busy, and I'm proud of you for working so hard."

He smiles back at you, internally glad that you both are able to talk things out like this. When his lips meet yours, you know you don't have to worry about anything. This man is the one for you, you're sure.

| @maestro-net

[postsofbabel]

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[yoonsdoll]

earl grey - ljh

content : n-i!woozi x gn!reader ; fluff ; 1.1k words ; no warnings c: - woozi looks for song inspo at a café you work at ! an : please give feedback by reblogging / sending in thoughts and suggestions (๑>◡<๑) + longer an at the end!

“ ‘scuse me,” you turned around, immediately leaving the daydreaming headspace and turning to the customer who was in the middle of ordering, “um i said, an earl grey tea.. thats all.”

it was a winter afternoon, the moonlight illuminating the streets and the dim lights in the café barely keeping you awake. working in such a cosy atmosphere with little customers made you slack off a lot - zoning out and humming songs to yourself while waiting for the next order.

“oh, right.. sorry, you can pay and take a seat.. ill bring it to you.” you managed to blurt out, turning around to start boiling the kettle. and he did just that, he took a seat by the window and took out a laptop out his bag. the laptop seemed to have a few stickers consisting of random phrases and a red guitar, “cute.” you hummed.

as you finished preparing the tea, you focused on how concentrated he was, typing away while restlessly bopping his leg. 

“here's the tea.” you glanced at him, taking a better look at his features which were unbelievably alluring. his black hair complementing his dark eyes, his light pink lips that curled into a smile when you walked over, his muscular arms that filled his white button up shirt, reaching over to you. “thanks.” he replied almost instantly.

you couldn’t help but sneak a glance at his screen as you passed him the hot cup of tea, noticing a google document titled ‘23’ with some sentences written on it, barely filling half a page. “is that for work or something?” you decided to strike up a conversation, partly because you were curious but partly because the guy was too cute to not talk to.

“ah this?” he looked over to scan over the document, “kind of?” you replied with a little tilt of your head, to which he chuckled, “just some lyrics for a song.”

“oh wow… thats cool. hows it coming together?” 

“not very well. i'm usually full of ideas, cant think of much lately.” you could tell he was passionate about it all, you gathered it was something he truly enjoyed doing, not just something he had to do. 

“sorry to hear? maybe a sweet treat on me to cheer you up?” his face lit up again, nodding with clear gratitude, “i’d like that.”

the next evening, he came back again, “oh hi.” you smiled softly, sort of glad he wasn’t a one time customer.

“a cup of earl grey please.”

as you brought him the tea, you took notice of the document opened up on his laptop once again. ‘23’ - the same one as yesterday, yet this time it was wiped blank, the bright light highlighting his face.

“how come you deleted the stuff that was on it yesterday?” he turned his attention to you, and the steaming cup in your hand, taking it from you. “didn’t like those notes, ‘m restarting again.”

you nodded, showing your interest in his softly spoken words. “let me know if you want to order something else.” your eyes twinkling at the thought of talking to him more.

as you awkwardly walked away, he quickly added, “um.. i’m jihoon by the way.” looking back, you replied with, “y/n.” 

a few days passed and there was no sign of jihoon returning, until it hit 7pm on a monday evening, when your eyes scanned the entrance as soon as you felt the cold wave of air hit you. it was him.

“an earl grey?” you hummed, trying to hide your smile but failing very miserably - though jihoon didn’t mind, in fact he looked just as happy to see you too. “an earl grey.” he replied through his chuckle.

just as usual, you walked over to his seat with the tea, realising that he was typing more than any other day, his document now full with the title changing to ‘23 - earl grey.’

“guessing you finally have some ideas?” your voice seemed to startle him as he jumped a little, closing the laptop half-way. “hm?” you questioned.

he shyly took the tea as he looked over, this time avoiding direct eye contact. “sorry, i didn’t notice you came over.” “so what’d you write about? can i read it?”

“its not done yet…” 

“it doesn’t matter, i’m sure its good.” you reassure him, though you could tell he still wasn’t up for the idea. you shook your head and sighed, “nevermind, sorry for disturbing you”

another week passed and you hadn't seen jihoon since that evening, and you noticed a pattern of how often he came, assuming he was a busy guy with better things to do than sit around the café to entertain your delusions. by the second week you felt a little worried, wondering if the comment about reading the lyrics was too weird of a request or if he was uncomfortable due to your intrusiveness. just as the week was ending and you’ve started to give up on the idea of ever seeing him again and apologising, you see a familiar figure entering the cafe.

“jihoon?” you sighed in relief, “im so sorry if i made you uncomfortable, that was never my intent i swear..” you began rambling but jihoon’s smile only continued to widen. 

“you didn’t.” he explained, being blunt yet somehow comforting. “i was just busy and.. here.” he passed you a piece of folded paper, before you could say anything he was already running off and waving, “see you!” 

before you headed to bed, you remembered the paper given to you, running to the bag you stuffed it in. quickly, you unfolded the paper to see a handwritten page of lyrics. ‘earl grey.’

as you read through it, you picked out some of the lyrics that stood out to you the most. ‘cold evenings with you by my side, earl grey tea with you on my mind.’ being your favourite by far. your face felt a little warmer as you turned the page to see a note that thanked you for being such a big inspiration for the song, his instagram handle written on there too.

you looked up the instagram to see his account, 27k followers, 103 following, 14 posts. you started looking through some of them, the pinned one being a photo of him and his 5 other friends, another a selfie of him, then the most recent one of his laptop and a tea cup at the café you were working at.

‘the lyrics were really pretty, thank you.’ was the first message you sent him that spiralled into a whole night of talking.

an 2 : i haven't written in a while so this was to get going on writing again, i wanted to write a cute lil fic for woozi since i literally do not see enough of him on here... again if u have any feedback please interact and if u have any suggestions send in an ask / request! ily :3

[noonachronicles]

You, Me, and Satan Himself

Lee Jooheon X Reader

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: mild language. there are a couple of mentions of suicide/attempted suicide, not member or reader related. also mentions of child death, also not member or reader related. ummm I think that’s it. 

Genre: bffs to lovers. idiots to lovers. alludes fwb but not LJH/Reader. It’s got some spooky themes, but ultimately it’s fluff.

A/N: It’s a Halloweeeeeen story! Ghosts and ghouls, firemen and pirates and of course Satan himself. ;D Happy Birthday @nemesyis! This one is for you. It’s not really an attack story, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! 

Wind was howling through the naked branches of the trees that lined the path you were on. The brisk chill of the fall air made you shiver. Much to your chagrin the dress and tights combo of your costume was doing almost nothing to keep the cold from consuming you. Clicking of your black lolita heels against the pavement beneath you echoed down the avenue you were walking down. Luckily it was a full moon, which meant that the path was fully visible despite the lack of lights. It might have been romantic if you weren’t mentally preparing yourself to be spooked. Focusing in on the sound of every branch that cracked, every hoot of an owl, every flicker of movement in your peripherals was being noted and you were thrilled by the way it all made the blood tingle in your veins. The only thing putting you off was the chattering of your teeth. It was hard to focus on getting in the mood when you couldn’t stop thinking about how cold you were.

“I told you to bring a jacket.” Jooheon muttered beside you.

“A jacket doesn’t go with this costume.” you advised him for the hundredth time that night. “And the dress has sleeves...I thought it would be warmer.”

“Yeah well my costume doesn’t require a jacket either, so thanks for that.” he complained.

Stopping, you looked over at your very grumpy best friend. It was cute, his outfit. Plaid button down shirt tucked into brown cargo shorts. Round glasses sat on his nose. Pocket protector, complete with pens, sat against his chest. Tube socks pulled all the way up his calves and dirty sneakers on his feet. Every little detail made you smile, you’d done wonderfully putting it together for him, you knew there was even an inhaler in his pocket. He was the perfect Joel Glicker to your Wednesday Addams.

“Honey…” you said lifting your hand to his cheek as he pouted at you, “you look so cute. Thank you for being the best best friend a girl could ask for. I promise that next year I will have a boyfriend of my own and I’ll make him do couples costumes with me, and then you’ll never have to deal with it again.”

He sighed deeply and then gave a tight smile, you still caught a glimpse of his dimple, “It’s fine.”

Once the two of you got moving again you fell back into a comfortable silence, like the pair of you usually did. Instead of going back to your mood setting thoughts you considered Jooheon. He really was the greatest guy you knew. Growing up neighbors left him destined to be either your best friend or worst enemy and at different points in your life he’d been both.

From toddler to teen you were inseparable. Then at some point you couldn’t remember hormones tore you apart. That was when he met the boys. You could still remember how jealous you’d been that first summer watching them hanging out all the time, wishing it was still you he wanted to spend his time with. You’d tried making new friends but mostly became a recluse, playing video games all the time and reading libraries worth of books. In high school you got your first boyfriend, an athlete in the year ahead of you, and you dated for three years. On the first day of summer before your senior year he ditched you because he wanted to be single for university.

You never knew how he’d heard about the break up, you never asked, but the very next day when you had convinced yourself you were never leaving your blanket burrito ever again Jooheon showed up. The moment he walked into your room, after your mom had let him in the house, it was like there had never even been a second that you were apart. He spent every single day with you that summer. Even if he’d had plans with the boys, he always dragged you along. You barely spent a second alone and by the time senior year started you had practically forgotten you’d ever had a boyfriend in the first place. From then on you were back to inseparable even now as adults.

“I hate this.” he grumbled beside you.

The shrubbery along the path was thickening and it was getting darker the further you moved along. You reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing your fingers around his.

“Don’t worry so much. I’ll protect you, I swear.” you smiled over at him. “We’re almost there.”

There was the sound of another snapping branch from the trees and you could feel his body vibrate in fear, “We’re going to die, I hope you know. This is the worst night of my whole life because I’m going to die...dressed like a nerd.”

“Thank you.” you said again.

“For what? Dying with you on this cold, dark, abandoned path to some haunted house in the middle of nowhere?”

“Kind of,” you laughed quietly, “Thank you for coming with me tonight. I know you would have much preferred to stay at the party picking up chicks. Instead you came with me and that means a lot.”

“Oh,” he seemed to ease at your words and even puffed out his chest slightly, “It’s cool. Honestly, no big deal at all. I didn’t want to be at that party if you weren’t going to be there anyway. And yes, this may be a weird, creepy idea that I hate more than anything, but you know I’d do anything for you.”

You squeezed his hand again and smiled, “I love you, Honey.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled all the same, “I love you too.”

“We’re so close, the house is right up here, just around that curve.” you couldn’t help your excitement and you moved faster down the path.

As you had nearly reached the end of the path, the abandoned house in your sight, you could see a large dark mass speeding towards you, but you didn’t process it fast enough. Not until the cloaked figure was already rawring loudly into your face. Jumping back you clutched your chest, heart racing. Seconds passed and you finally registered Changkyun’s laughter, and your eyes adjusted enough to see his devilish face clearly. Jooheon was long gone, having sprinted back down the path quite a ways, he was still shrieking.

“That’s so fucked, Kyun.” you let out a large breath.

Devil horns atop his head, he held up his finger, an evil grin on his lips, “Just wait, it gets better.”

By then Jooheon’s screams had petered down. When you looked down the path to the silhouette of his figure you could see he was making his way, slowly, back to you. He was still several yards away when you saw the two new dark figures creeping out of the brush behind him. It was very clear he hadn’t noticed their presence yet.

“No, my poor Honey.” you mumbled, “Minhyuk?”

“And Hyungwon.” Changkyun snickered beside you.

After just a moment more of silence you could hear their collective “Boo!” as they lunged towards Jooheon. The sound of his screaming and cursing echoed through the night as he sprinted full speed back to you.

“Assholes!” he shouted, “All my friends are assholes!”

He clung to you as he panted, catching his breath and you gently patted his back, “You’re not wrong about that.”  

“I knew it was going to be good,” Minhyuk said still laughing as he and Hyungwon made it to the group, “but that was so much better than I ever expected.”

After finishing rolling your eyes you saw a flicker of light bouncing its way out of the front of the building.

“Shownu!” you called out cheerfully as you recognized the man behind the flashlight in his fireman costume. He gave a small wave as he made his way over. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Kihyun and Hoseok met some people at the party.” He shrugged as he moved out of the hug he’d given you. “Hoseok said to say sorry. Kihyun said to tell you he was not sorry and that if you couldn’t understand you weren’t really friends.”

You laughed, knowing that it was likely that’s exactly what he said. “Wait so you just went in all by yourself?”

“Yeah, no one was here when I got here so I went in and took a look around. Not very exciting as far as haunted houses go. I didn’t find any workers. There’s no smoke machines or creepy music.” he said sounding very unimpressed.

“Nunu…” you shook your head, “Oh sweet man, it’s not a haunted house, it’s just creepy and abandoned.”

“Ohh.” he nodded in understanding, “That makes more sense.”

Jooheon quickly went from clinging to you to clinging to the pillar of muscle and fearlessness that was Shownu. “Full offense to everyone else here, who sucks, but dibs on Nu as my partner.”

“Dibs on y/n.” Minhyuk said throwing his arm over your shoulder, “Unintentionally wearing couples costumes and everything.”

You looked him up and down in confusion, “Min, you’re a pirate. How are we at all a couples costume?”

“You see, after tonight, when you’re wowed by my courage, strength, and overall ability to protect you, you won’t be able to resist me.” you did your best to hold back a snort, “After that, we will be a couple and then no matter what our outfits are they will always be couples outfits. ...because, you know, we’ll be a couple.”

“I think I got it.” you laughed.

As he’d been talking everyone, with the exception of Minhyuk himself, watched as Hyungwon slipped silently behind the brazen pirate. In a swift motion he reached out, grabbing his hips, with a quick boo! Minhyuk jumped about a foot in the air, his pirate hat was thrown off his head and his shrill shriek pierced the cold air.

“Yeah...good luck in there, y/n.” Hyungwon said shooting you a wink.

“She’s a goner for sure.” Changkyun smirked.

“Alright, alright.” you said anxiously, “Let’s do this. I don’t want to be standing out here until the sun comes up.”

Pushing through the group you made your way to the dark house. The pirate and the devil followed closely behind, the others with slightly less enthusiasm. Once you hit the porch steps of the old colonial house you pulled your flashlight from the pocket of your dress. One of the double doors had been broken or removed and was leaning against the door frame. It wasn’t really breaking and entering, you thought to yourself, just entering really.

You ducked through the open door to avoid the giant cobweb in the corner. Inside the house was covered in a thick layer of dirt and dust. Dead leaves scattered across the floor as far as your eyes could see and you wondered just how long the front door had been down. Rebellious teenagers had left graffiti a top the peeling wallpaper. There were giant holes all along the walls and you were sure there wasn’t a foot of copper wiring left in the old bones of the home.

The foyer was huge and as the beam of your flashlight moved over it you could just imagine how beautiful it had been in its youth. There was a staircase to the second floor to the left of the room. Beyond it were two hallways leading off in opposite directions. You looked over at the giant landing at the base of the staircase and nodded to yourself.

“Changkyun,” you said and flashed your light over at the area, “how about here?”

He nodded in agreement, “Perfect.”

He handed you candle after candle from a brown satchel at his side to light and place around the area. When the fireman, Glicker, and Hyungwon as the ghoul all made it inside the whole group of you got comfortable, or as comfortable as you could, on the landing of the staircase. The devil stayed standing, his red cloak swooped around his legs and the light from the candles lit up his face dramatically as he prepared to tell the group about the history of the home. The shadow of his horns illuminated against the wall behind him.

“The year,” Changkyun began, “was eighteen oh six. Doctor Leonardo Fitz had just wed the love of his life, Maria Vanderson. As a grand gesture of his love for her he had this house built just for her and what was meant to be their large, happy family. However, after many years had passed the halls of the home remained without the laughter of children. It seemed that the couple was not fated for the family they had dreamed of. Maria was devastated and heartbroken, believing herself to be at fault for their misfortune. Unable to take the guilt of it all she attempted to drown herself in the couple's claw footed bathtub, that remains upstairs to this very day.”

Jooheon let out a hiss of a breath and burrowed closer to you.

“Maria Vanderson was unsuccessful at her death, found too quickly by the house maid and dragged from the water. Though when she woke her husband feared the damage had already been done. His wife had become delusional. Nightmares haunted her sleep and visions attacked her in the light of day. To anyone who would give her a minute of their time she babbled on about what had happened in her time in the great beyond. She spoke of a man that had come to her just before the light took her for good.

The man with eyes as black as the darkest night sky pressed the palm of his clawed hand against her flat stomach. Locking his dark stare with her fearful one he whispered, ‘my son’. A little over a month after the incident occurred they found out that Maria was pregnant. The doctor, desperate for an excuse for his wives apparent insanity, blamed her delusions on the pregnancy hormones. Nine months to the very day of her attempted suicide, Maria gave birth.”

“Nooooo.” Minhyuk gasped. You bit your lip to keep from laughing at the look of absolute horrified realization on his face.

“What?” Jooheon asked with morbid curiosity, even as he wrapped himself even tighter around you.

Minhyuk looked over at him with raised eyebrows and mouthed, “It’s the devils baby!”

Changkyun sighed in annoyance. “Well if Minhyuk is just going to spoil everything what’s the point of even going on with the story.”

“Oh, Kyunnie, please!” You pouted cutely, “It’s so good and you worked so hard on all that research.”

“I did.” He nodded smugly, “I researched the entire history of this home…  So I will continue, but everyone better keep their theories to themselves.”

“Sorry,” Minhyuk said as he coward at the pointed look from his junior.

“What had been more shocking than the timing of Maria’s labor,” he started once more, “was that she gave birth to twin boys. One with flaxen hair like his father, the others black as a raven’s feather.”

Minhyuk let out another dramatic gasp but quickly slammed his hand over his mouth.

Changkyun continued, “Both boys grew up portraits of health and seemingly as normal as any other child might. The only difference between them besides the color of their hair was that Damian, the raven haired child, had been fussier than his brother Gabriel. He required much more attention but only that from his mother was able to comfort him. As they aged the changes and differences between them became more and more clear. Gabriel was a playful, independant boy that enjoyed spending his time outside in the sun. He liked to run around the giant yard, swinging on the swing set, and climbing trees. He liked to be dirty and to laugh.

Damien did not enjoy those things. He was quiet, an observer of the things around him. Even though he was just a boy he still knew things about the people in the home, their secrets.  He preferred to do whatever his mother was doing, always at her side. She called him her little shadow and adored him with every ounce of her being. The doctor did not feel the same way about the boy. He felt he could see a darkness in the child and was watching it grow every day. It terrified the doctor to see how he manipulated Maria and the others in the house into loving him.

One afternoon Maria had been getting ready for a gala she was to attend with the doctor. She’d been in front of her vanity doing her makeup. The boys had been running up and down the hallway and in the playroom quite loudly. After some time had passed she realized the house had grown silent.”

“I don’t like it,” Jooheon whispered just to you, and pressed his face into your shoulder. You squeezed his hand comfortingly and listened to Changkyun go on.

“When she stepped from the bedroom into the hallway the only thing she could see was Damien at the top of the stairs holding a wooden toy airplane at his side. As she moved closer to her son she could see the mortifying view at the bottom of the stairs. Her fair haired boy laid mangled across the bottom step, blood oozing around him. She wrapped Damien in her arms, pressing his face to her chest to protect him from the sight. The help claimed they could her screams for hours after, just echoing up and down the halls. Maybe we’ll even hear them tonight.”

“Wait...these stairs?!” Hyungwon asked in a panic, shooting up from the bottom step he’d been sitting on. He cleared his throat and said a little more casually, “I mean ...these stairs?”

“One and the same.” Changkyun confirmed.

“What...that’s it?” Shownu asked high key unimpressed. You watched as Hyungwon slowly made his way from the staircase to the opposite side of the circle, otherwise unnoticed.

“Worry not, the story doesn’t end there.”

“Oh god damn it.” Jooheon groaned beside you.

“Alright, everyone, settle down and focus.” Changkyun waited for everyone’s attention before going on with the story. “Doctor Leo knew right away what had happened to his son and was furious. He wanted to get rid of the evil boy. However, Maria loved her son and she refused to believe the ravings of a madman. One day while she’d been out the doctor had even brought a priest into the home to try and exorcise the boy. Maria was enraged when she arrived home. Unable to handle the pained cries of the only child she had left, she tore the restraints from his body and banned the clergy from her home.

A decade had passed and the doctor’s fear and anger had torn him and Maria apart. They stayed on opposite sides of the home. She refused to speak to him because every time she did he would just say some hurtful things to her about Damien. The doctor began to drink heavily, he was falling apart having lost his son and then his wife.

On his fifteenth birthday, what would have been Gabriels as well, Maria took her son into the city for lunch and then to the zoo. When they arrived back home they found the doctor had ended his own life. Unable to handle the evil consuming the home any longer. His limp, lifeless body was found hanging from the railing, just there,” Changkyun pointed up to the railing of the second floor that was broken, leaving dangerous open gaps, “He’d made a noose out of bed sheets.”

“Two down, one to go.” Hyungwon joked, though he eyed the railing warily

“He won’t kill the mom.” Shownu argued. Both Minhyuk and Jooheon shuddered at the thought.

You sighed, “Come on, guys. He’s almost to the best part.”

“Which is?” Shownu asked.

“The end.” Jooheon grumbled.

“The best part is when he finally gets to the reason we’re really here.” you corrected.

“Just get it over with then.” Minhyuk whined, pulling his knees to his chest.

“For three years following the death of the doctor, mother and son lived here quite harmoniously. The only complaints to be had were from the help. Maids and gardeners often complaining about the property being overrun by creatures that always ended up dead. In the home and around it they found rats, cats, birds, foxes, rabbits, and snakes. As if they’d come to the house for the sole purpose of dying.

One afternoon, not long after Damien’s eighteenth birthday, Maria was just coming home from a short trip to the city. Out on the lawn, she found the old gardener facedown on the ground, dead.  When she ran inside the maid and the cook where both here in the foyer. Deep gashes like those from the claws of an animal covered their bodies. Blood was seeping from their wounds. She could see, dug into the wood flooring, were marks left by the cooks nails as she’d been dragged down the hall. Terrified for her son’s life, Maria searched the whole house for Damien. She found the door of the study, the last place she’d checked, slightly ajar. She peered inside and what she saw made her sick with fear.

Her son was standing in the center of the room with his eyes closed and naked as the day he was born. Behind him the fireplace was burning and she watched with wide eyes as a horned beast stepped out from the flames half man, half animal. Ten feet tall it had hoven feet and eyes as black as the darkest night. In his clawed hands he held a gold chalice. He spoke in a language she could not understand and from the chalice poured what seemed like an endless stream of dark red blood on top of her son’s head.

In a voice she’d heard before the beast whispered, my son.

Damien’s eyes opened under the shower of blood, and she gasped when she saw they were as black as his fathers. The door swung open, exposing her. The last thing she saw was the sick twisted smile of her demon son as his father came for her.  

Some people say you can hear the sound of hoven feet against the hardwood floor, the pained screams of Maria, the giggles of young Gabriel, and warnings from the doctor himself, whispered against your ear, begging you to leave this damned home.”

“I’ve seen the fireplace in the study. It’s huge. The devil coming out of it,” Shownu shrugged, “that’s actually pretty believable.”

“The devil!” Jooheon whined, “That’s so much worse than just a regular ghost story! I hate this, I’m gonna be sick.”

“Who is going to explain why we’re here?” Shownu asked, “I thought that would be made clear.”

“We’re here to find the chalice.” Changkyun answered. “Somewhere in this haunted old house is the devil's cup. We will go in our pairs and search until it’s found or the sun has risen.”

“What do we get if we find it?” Hyungwon asked intrigued.

“Pride, honor, a golden chalice to drink all of your future drinks out of.” you said as if the answer were obvious. “Also, the winning team gets breakfast paid for by the losers.”  

“Yeah, we’re winning. Let’s go.” With that Shownu grabbed Jooheon by the wrist and dragged him down the hall to the left.

“Game on.” Changkyun said with a wicked laugh before running upstairs with Hyungwon hot on his devils tail.

~~

The house was much scarier than you expected it to be. It might not have been that bad if it weren’t for the fact that Minhyuk was trembling with fear everywhere the two of you went. You’d searched the kitchen and the dining room together. The pair of you clung desperately to each other with every step you took down in the basement. You were sure if the chalice had been down there you’d missed it. The only thing you were focused on while you were down there was getting back upstairs and Minhyuk had been much worse off than you. He made you search the study by yourself while he stood by the door holding a shaking flashlight in your general direction. The pair of you passed by Shownu and Jooheon on the way to the sitting room and the sun room on the opposite side of the house.

Once you were sure you’d been to every room downstairs you went upstairs. In the children’s room, instead of the chalice you found a dust covered, wooden toy airplane. When you showed it to Minhyuk he screamed and for several minutes you were certain he was going to cry. Then, walking across the hall from one bedroom to another, a toy ball rolled passed your feet and Minhyuk swore he heard a child’s laughter. Though the whole situation made your chest tight with fright, part of you was also sure that Changkyun had something to do with it. Especially since you hadn’t seen him or Hyungwon the entire time you’d been upstairs.  

The two of you were headed to the master bedroom next. Minhyuk was a few feet in front of you. He passed by an open bedroom door without a second thought but a quiet whistling from the room caught your attention. You’d looked everywhere in the small room, and were standing nervously in front of the closet when Minhyuk called your name from down the hall. You turned to call back to him but when you opened your mouth a hand slammed down against your lips. Screaming into the hand, you were dragged backwards into the closet and the door closed in front of you.

“God, Y/n, stop screaming.” Changkyun whispered against your ear and spun you around.

“What the hell, you scared the fuck out of me.” you hissed as your eyes started to adjust to the darkness.

“All of the fuck?” he grinned, “Not even a little fuck left for me?”

“Apologize,” you whispered, sliding your hand from his chest to his hip, “maybe then I can find a fuck for you.”

He leaned in and dragged the tip of his nose from your throat to the base of your ear and whispered back, “I’m sorry I scared you.”

You hummed in pleasure, “Oh, look, I think I found one.”

“Mm, that’s good.” he said before leaving kisses along your neck, pulling the soft skin between his teeth until you were groaning. You squirmed beneath his hands as they pinned your hips against the wall.

“Kiss me for real.” you whined. He lifted his face to yours and let you pull his lips between yours. You kissed him for a full minute before you realized he wasn’t kissing back. “What? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you kissing me?”

He cupped your face in his hands with a smile, “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Okay, then kiss me.”

He leaned in again, this time pressing his lips against yours in a true kiss. His tongue slipped between your teeth and you pulled his hips closer, practically slamming them into yours. He kept you pressed against the old, dirty wall of the bedroom closet until your lips were sore and swollen and you weren’t sure which tongue was his and which was yours. When he finally pulled away, he kept his eyes on you for a moment as you caught your breath.  

Then he pressed a sweet kiss against your forehead and smiled, “We had fun right?”

“What? Why did you say it like that? Had?” you asked confused.

“That was our last kiss, kiddo.” he said as if it was just any ordinary conversation.

“What?”

“Jooheon is going to ask you out later.”

“What?”

He chuckled, “You should say yes. He likes you, is in love with you, likes you.”

“What?”

He grabbed your face in his palms, “Please stop saying what.”

“Um,” you looked at him trying to process but not being able to, “What?”

“Jooheon, you remember him?” he asked. You nodded, “He’s in love with you. He’s going to ask you out on a date. A real date, not just you two being besties like you’ve always been. I really think you need to say yes. I think you want to say yes. He really wants to be with you and you deserve that.”

“So...what does that mean, you don’t” you asked feeling a little hurt.

“Oh baby girl, I don’t want to be with anyone. I’m just having fun and we did that, right? You had fun?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

He frowned seeing how upset you were, “You want more than secret rendezvous every once in awhile. I’m not totally clueless. I know you’ve been wanting more from me for awhile now.”

“I guess I was the clueless one.” you sighed.

“No” he said, “what I do just isn’t for everyone. You deserve more. You deserve real dates where you go out to dinner and then get ice cream after. You deserve sleepovers that end in you falling asleep together on the couch while the movie is still running. You deserve someone that’s going to drag you around everywhere and tell anyone who’ll listen that you’re his girl, because nothing makes him more proud than being with you.”

A small smile found its way to your lips, “Honey.”

“Exactly.” Changkyun smiled.

“You really think he loves me? I mean, I know he loves me like a best friend but…”

“He would not be trembling his way through this dark abandoned home on Halloween night, if it wasn’t for you. He would do anything for you and he’d do it because he loves you. Loves you loves you.” He shook his head as if amused, “You love him back, you know. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for that delicate little man.”

“What if it’s not supposed to be like that. What if it ruins our friendship?” you bit your lip.

“You would never let that happen, either of you.” Changkyun said with certainty, “You’ll never let him out of your life, and he’ll never let you out of his. Even if things go horribly wrong, which I guarantee they won't, you two are going to have each other forever.”

~~~

It wasn’t totally clear how long you’d been in that closet with Changkyun but you knew it had probably been too long. Minhyuk was nowhere to be found upstairs and you immediately felt horrible having left him alone for so long. You had run into Hyungwon who asked if you’d seen Changkyun and you gave a vague response about him maybe being in the master bedroom before heading downstairs again.

Your flashlight had gone dead just before you’d run into Hyungwon, so you were pretty desperate to find your partner. The way down the stairs was slow going as you cautiously felt for each step before moving forward. Midway down the light from a flashlight hit you in the face. You squinted, unable to see who was coming up the stairs.

“Hey!” Jooheon grabbed your arms looking panicked, “Where were you?”

“I was just searching upstairs. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You asked concerned.

He dropped his hands to his sides with relief, “We ran into Minhyuk, he said he lost you. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I was so worried. Where’s your flashlight?”

“Oh...it died. You were worried about me? You searched a dark abandoned house for me all by yourself?” You grinned.

“Well...yeah. I just, I didn’t want you to be alone or get hurt or something.”

I wasn’t,” you paused, he didn’t need to know you weren’t exactly alone, “I was okay. Thank you for coming to find me though.”

You looked over your shoulder at the sound of footsteps on the stairs and nodded at Changkyun as he passed the two of you, Hyungwon following close behind. You watched him all the way down the stairs and into the dinning room before looking back at Jooheon. He looked from you to where Changkyun has disappeared and then back again.

“You were alone, right?” He asked quietly.

“Mostly…”

He bit his lip nervously as he looked up at you, “Do you want to be with him?”

“Be with who?” You gulped.

“Kyun. Are you into him?”

A small smile spread across your lips, “No, actually I think I might be into someone else.”

“Oh.” His shoulder fell with disappointment. “You never told me about anyone new. Usually you tell me that kind of stuff.”

“He’s not really new. I’ve known him for awhile.”

Jooheon’s face creased in confusion, “Who do you know that I don’t know?”

“I never said you didn’t.” You laughed.

“Someone we both know and it’s not Changkyun?” He asked. You could see the gears turning in his mind. “Oh god. Please tell me it’s not Minhyuk.”

“I found it!” Hyungwon screamed, running into the foyer holding the golden chalice high above his head. “We win!”

“Noooooo!” You could hear Minhyuk whining before you saw him tear into the foyer from the opposite hall. “Where?!”

“Kitchen.” Changkyun was leaning against a post, you hadn’t even seen him stroll in after Hyungwon.

“We looked there!” Minhyuk spun around the room with his flashlight until he spotted you under the beam of light, “Didn’t we look there, y/n?”

You blocked the light from your eyes with your hand, “Yes, Min.”

“Well not good enough. Haaaaah!” Hyungwon laughed as Minhyuk chased after him through the foyer, grabbing for the chalice.

“Hey!” Shownu shouted from the balcony, the light from his phone illuminating his face, “Kihyun and Hoseok are already at the diner for breakfast. They want us to meet them there.”

Finally gathered together once more the whole group took off together, back down the avenue of trees. Dawn was coming and what once was pitch black was now a muted gray. Everything looked a little different in the soft light. You turned around and looked back at the old house, it didn’t look very threatening at all.

Changkyun had thrown his arm over your shoulder, in what you knew was now simply the action of a good friend. Though Jooheon didn’t and he pouted as he walked with Shownu behind the two of you. With a yawn you wondered how Minhyuk had the energy to chase Hyungwon down the sidewalk, still desperate for the golden chalice.

Hoseok and Kihyun met the group outside of the twenty-four hour diner looking a little worse for the wear. Hoseok was half asleep and stumbling drunk as you made your way inside. The group packed into two red vinyl booths.

Jooheon looked up from his plastic covered menu at you in surprise as you slipped into the booth next to him. “Wouldn’t you rather sit with your boyfriend?”

“Who? Changkyun?” You asked, pulling the menu between the two of you so you could read it too. “I thought we cleared that up. I like someone else.”

“Yeah but you never said who. Are you going to tell me?”

You opened your mouth to say something and he watched you wide eyed with anticipation. However the waitress had arrived for drink orders, giving you a second chance to avoid the question. It wasn’t that you weren’t going to tell him, just that you enjoyed the frustrated look on his face, it was too cute to resist.

When the waitress left to get the drinks, instead of telling him what he wanted to know, you engaged with Kihyun who was sitting across from you in a very serious discussion about what to order. You couldn’t decide between dinner and breakfast. In the end you did what you always did. Jooheon would get breakfast and you would get dinner and then you’d split your meals.

“Did you have fun at least?” You asked Jooheon as the waitress came around with your food. “It wasn’t that bad was it?”

“No, not as bad as I expected.” He sighed as he separated his meal into two. “It was fun. I scared Hyungwon once, did I tell you?”

“No! You didn’t!” Laughing at the thought, you put half of your cheeseburger on his plate. “I’m so happy you had fun, Honey.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t win.” He said quietly

You grinned, “Oh it’s okay. Maybe next year.”

“Next year?!” He asked in an instant panic.

“Yeah. It’ll be better. We’ll just make sure we get to be partners next time.”

“You’d want to be partners with me?” He asked genuinely surprised, “I thought you were going to have a boyfriend by next year. Whoever this secret guy is that you like probably likes you back. If you’re dating then he’ll want to be your partner and I’ll get stuck with someone else.”

“Well, do you?” You asked grabbing a piece of bacon from his plate.

“Do I what?”

You looked across the table where Hoseok and Kihyun had passed out on one another, their food left almost completely untouched except for a french fry hanging from Kyihuns mouth.

“Do you like me back?” You asked.

“Yeah of course I like you back I-“ his eyes went wide when he realized that you meant. “Me? I’m the guy you’re into?”

“The one and only.” You were sure you’d never seen his dimple get so deep he was smiling so big.

“I want to kiss you.” He said, eyes sparkling.

“Wait, there’s something I want to tell you first.” You felt nervous, but telling him about Changkyun seemed like the right thing to do. If you were really starting this you wanted to start it the right way. “Kyun and I were…”

“I know.” His smile dropped slightly but he shrugged, “I’ve known for awhile, you guys were pretty obvious.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked grabbing his hand beneath the table subconsciously.

“I wanted you to want to tell me. I wanted you to be happy. It was hard being around you two, poorly hiding flirtatious looks.”

“I’m so dumb. I’m so sorry.” You whispered as you thought back at the last few months realizing Jooheon had almost never spent time with you and Changkyun together.

“Kyun figured it out. He asked me the other night and I told him the truth. That I’m in love with you.”

Your eyebrows shot up but you weren’t sure you were entirely surprised. “Honey…”

“Kyun told me to ask you out, he said you were… that you might… maybe...possibly.”

“I’m in love with you too.” You laughed, ending his small suffering of trying to avoid asking you if you loved him back. “I think I was in some denial but Kyun showed me the light.”

“He did?” Jooheon seemed genuinely shocked when you nodded, “well what do you know, Satan himself thinks we should be together.”

“Who are we to deny him?” With a small smile you leaned over and pressed a kiss against his dimpled cheek.

He covered his face with his hand shyly. “Aish, not in front of everyone!”

You laughed at the cute way he blushed, “You’re the one who wanted to kiss me!”

“Still do...” he grinned and lifted his hand to the back of your neck pulling you in for a sweet first kiss.