thinking about idol!jeongin falling in love at first sight meeting fan!reader. . .
first time he saw you wasn't when it was your turn to sit in front of him. the airtime before the fan sign had started, everyone was already seated, the staff just double checking if everything was good to go.
jeongin's eyes wandered through the crowd in front of the him, not looking for anyone in particular, merely just looking at their groups' fans to have something to do.
he was simply just browsing through the blur of faces, a few signs here and there, until he saw you.
jeongin didn't know what was different. only that he could feel some kind of aura around you that the other fans couldn't see or sense near you, a luminous ambience that only he could see.
you weren't looking at him. you seemed busy in your own world, trying to breath in properly 'cause you were nervous. he smiled when you turned and saw him staring back at you.
your face loaded for a second, before smiling back, waving calmly. he waved back. your grin was a little bit wider when he did it.
the fan sign continued, none of the fans hereโnot even his hyungsโthat their maknae had a secret agenda now when he saw you, which was to get connected with you.
no matter how risky it was.
when you were finally sat on the table, he was itching to meet you.
he had been reviewing all the ways he could possibly flirt. that wouldn't be too obvious, right? it would just be him doing his duty as an idol to entertain their fans with fanservice.
except when it came to you, the fanservice was teetering a little bit to crossing over to real flirting.
"h-hi, jeongin." you bowed before sitting down.
"hi, there." his gaze followed your every move, smirking. "what's your name?"
you told him your name as you hand out your album to sign, jeongin making sure to graze your fingers a little, the sight of you visually short-circuiting when it happened forever ingrained in his memory for when he wants to smile.
"you have a really pretty face," he signed your album with practiced ease, opening the photobook to sign his photo in there as well, "pretty name too. you're lucky."
"i- hah. . .!" you chuckled awkwardly, flattered as you blinked and thanked him.
"what made you like our group, hm?" he asked, leaning in elbows on the table as he splayed his hands out for you. you stared at them a little confused, before you answer his question.
"i really liked your guys' music. it's pretty alternative to modern pop, soโ oh."
feeling a sense of boldness run through him (and slight impatience that you didn't get the hint), he took both your hands in his. jeongin hummed, like this was normal.
jeongin had a sneaking suspicion that his hyung, seungmin, next to him was quite taken aback at his sudden love for skin ship, but he didn't pay him no mind.
not for the remainder of the fan sign, at least.
you held eye contact with him, but only for short periods of time. his smile and sharp gaze making it almost impossible for you to focus when it just made your brain all mushy.
he hummed at your unfinished reply, before asking another question. "you must have a bias then, right?"
"ah, yeah i do!" you say happily, unaware that you were waving your intertwined hands from the positive question.
"is it me?" his fingers squeezed yours a little, anticipating a 'yes'.
"ah, no. . ." you say sheepishly, jeongin letting out a dramatic sigh.
"it's actually bangchan, haha," you say, "sorry, innie-ah."
"too bad. . ." he pouted.
"it's 'cause i have a thing for older guys, yknow?" you try joking, but then he answers you with something you didn't know how to reply to.
"so you wouldn't date a younger guy?"
jeongin's thumbs started to caress the sides of your hands, the action turning your head all fuzzy. if you were calm enough (which you weren't until the end of the fan sign), you would have noticed his sly smirk, obviously flirting with you now.
"iโ ha. . . i didn't say that," you smile, tilting your head down as he tries to catch you sight.
"do you not do long distance relationships too?"
"uhm," you tilt your head up, meeting his gaze for a little while, more confused than shy, "n-not really, why?"
'you look really pretty flustered like this, y'know?', is jeongin really wants to say, but with seungmin (who you were talking to before him) starting to look really suspicious, he settles for:
"that's good, then we'd be perfect together."
the timer goes off, and with jeongin being the last member on the end of the table, you're forced to bow your goodbye and walk off, with jeongin's eyes following you until he's forced to interact with the fan in front of him, his smugness from the interaction still lingering.
you, who just exited the venue, had let out a sigh of relief? exhilaration? you aren't sure, but you know damn well your hearts beating really fast.
the hours pass after that, and once you make it home, you wind down and get ready for bed, the signed album and photobook still splayed out on your duvet.
you smile at the event, remembering all of the happenings with the other members, before recalling the last one. your fingers trace jeongin's signature.
looking at the photobook, you open it up and flip through it, looking at the messages that the members left you, you grin at each one, some telling you to eat while the others saying they'd love to see you again.
then, you see jeongins message for you, and your grin drops.
' you don't mind younger guys if it was me, right? call me soon, okay? ~ XXXX - XXX - XXX
โ y.j โค๏ธ '
it was messily written, giving you the impression that he did it quickly, so that no one could see in the photobook that fast. you scoffed in disbelief.
your heart jumped a few beats faster. there it was again. that feeling in your stomach. the odd pull.
you caress your thumb on the ink of the page, lost in thought.
the big question is; will you message, or will you ghost?
ugh skz not having mnl in their tour destinations is making my heart break ๐๐ฅanyways have some delusional jeongin imagine because i dont see enough about him being written ;D
ยฉmieuracha. I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WRITING BEING MODIFIED, PLAGIARIZED, REPOSTED, TRANSLATED, OR HAVING THEM FED TO AI.
synopsis : In a cold, arranged marriage, a cheerful wife longs for affection. When her husband discovers her romance stories, he awkwardly begins learning how to loveโslowly turning their relationship into something real.
genre : slice of life, mafia au, angst, slow-burn, comfort, fluff, little comedy
warnings : none
authorโs note : im on holiday rn so ill be posting more hehe ๐
word count : 1.7k
The first thing you learned about your husband was that he didnโt smile.
Not at the wedding. Not during the vows.
Not even when the officiant tried to lighten the atmosphere with a joke about โtill death do you partโ sounding a little too literal considering his line of work.
Kang Yeosang had simply stood there in his perfectly tailored suit, hands steady, expression unreadableโlike he wasnโt marrying you, but signing a contract.
Which, to be fair, he kind of was.
You werenโt naive.
You knew exactly what this marriage was: a strategic alliance between your family and his.ย
Stability. Protection. Power consolidation.ย
All the very romantic things that made mafia deals go smoothly.
What you didnโt expectโฆ was how quiet he would be. Not cold in the dramatic, cruel way.
Justโฆ distant.
Like he existed slightly outside of your world.
He spoke when necessary. Ate with precision. Moved like someone always calculating three steps ahead.ย
Even at home, where most people would relax, Yeosang remained composedโback straight, voice low, emotions tucked away behind a wall you couldnโt even see the edges of.
At first, you tried.
โDo you like tea or coffee?โ you had asked on the third morning after moving in.
โEither.โ
โโฆOkay, but which do you prefer?โ
A pause.
โTea.โ
You beamed. โGreat! Iโll remember that.โ
He nodded once. That was it.
No โthank you.โ No follow-up.
Justโฆ Yeosang.
You refused to let that discourage you.
If he was a wall, youโd be ivy.
You talked about everything.
Your day. The neighborโs weird cat. A random documentary you watched. A joke you found funny.
He listened, always. That was the strange part.
He never interrupted, never dismissed you, never told you to stop talking. He justโฆ didnโt respond much.
Still, you noticed things.
Like how his gaze would linger just a fraction longer when you laughed.
Or how heโd subtly adjust the air conditioning because you once mentioned you got cold easily.
Or how your favorite snacks would magically appear in the pantry after you offhandedly said you liked them.
He didnโt show his affection with his words.
Heโฆ executed it.
Quietly. Efficiently.
Like everything else he did.
You shared a room.
A large one, elegant and impersonal at first, until you filled it with small touchesโbooks on the nightstand, soft blankets, a ridiculous amount of pillows Yeosang never complained about.
The bed, however, remained a clear line of demarcation.
You on one side. Him on the other.
He never crossed it. Not even in his sleep. Not even once.
It wasnโt rejection, exactly. It justโฆ felt like distance.
And sometimes, late at night, when the house was silent and Yeosangโs breathing was steady beside you, youโd stare at the ceiling and wonderโ
Does he even like me?
โโโโโโโโโ โโ โโ โ
โโโโโโโโโ
If there was one thing you didnโt share with him, it was your stash.
Hidden carefully in the bottom drawer of your desk, beneath neatly folded scarves and old notebooks, was your treasure trove:
Romance novels. Fanfiction printouts.
Dog-eared pages, highlighted lines, sticky notes marking your favorite scenes.
Soft love. Slow burns. Confessions whispered in the dark.
The kind of affection your marriage didnโt quite have.
It wasnโt that you expected Yeosang to suddenly turn into a dramatic romantic lead.
But sometimesโ
Okay, a lot of timesโ
you wished heโd justโฆ reach for you.
โโโโโโโโโ โโ โโ โ
โโโโโโโโโ
It happened on a completely normal afternoon.
Which, in hindsight, was exactly how life liked to ruin you.
You had left in a hurry, rushing out to meet a friend, completely forgetting that youโd left your drawer slightly open.
And Yeosangโฆ had come home early.
He wasnโt looking for anything in particular.
Just a document he thought might be on your desk.
He noticed the drawer because it wasnโt perfectly aligned.
And Yeosang was, unfortunately, a man who noticed everything.
So he opened it.
And foundโฆbooks. A lot of books.
He frowned slightly, picking one up. The cover wasโฆ pink.
Suspiciously pink.
He flipped it open.
Read a line. Paused. Read another.
His expression didnโt change much. But his ears turned slightly red.
โHis fingers traced her wrist, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of her skinโโ
Yeosang closed the book.
Very calmly. Placed it back.
Opened another one.
โYou donโt understand,โ he whispered, voice breaking, โIโve loved you from the moment you walked into my life.โ
Pause. Blink.
Yeosang sat down.
And, for reasons even he couldnโt quite explainโฆkept reading.
You didnโt think anything was wrong when you walked in.
โYeosang, Iโm back!โ you called cheerfully, slipping off your shoes.
No response. That wasnโt unusual.
You wandered into the bedroomโand froze.
Because your husband was sitting on the edge of the bed.
Holding one of your books.
Your brain stopped functioning.
โโฆโ
โโฆโ
He looked up. You looked at him.
The book.
Him.
The book.
Him.
โI can explain,โ you blurted.
โExplain what,โ he asked calmly, holding up the book, โthis?โ
You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.
โItโsโuhโitโs research.โ
โResearch.โ
โYes.โ
โFor what?โ
โโฆlife.โ
A pause.
Thenโ
โโฆI see.โ
He looked back at the page and continued reading.
You stood there. Processing.
โโฆWait.โ
You stepped closer.
โYouโre just going to keep reading it?โ
โI was in the middle of a chapter.โ
โThatโs not the point!โ
He glanced at you.
โThen what is?โ
Your face burned.
โThatโs private!โ
โI didnโt know that,โ he said, tone even. โIt was not labeled.โ
โYou donโt need a label, itโs obviousโ!โ
Another pause.
He closed the book gently. Looked at you.
โโฆDo you like this kind of thing?โ
Your soul left your body.
โWhy are you asking that?โ you said weakly.
โYou read a lot of it.โ
โThat doesnโt mean anything!โ
โIt usually does.โ
โThatโs notโโ you stopped. โOkay, yes, I like it, but thatโs not the point!โ
โWhat is the point?โ
โThe point is that you werenโt supposed to see it!โ
โWhy.โ
โBecause itโs embarrassing!โ
โWhy.โ
โBecause it just is!โ
Yeosang studied you. Carefully.
โโฆIt is about affection,โ he said.
You froze.
โโฆWhat?โ
โThese stories,โ he continued, flipping the book slightly, โthey focus heavily on emotional and physical intimacy.โ
You covered your face.
โI know what theyโre about, Yeosang.โ
โDo you want that?โ
Your hands dropped. The room went quiet.
He wasnโt teasing. Wasnโt mocking. Wasnโt even embarrassed.
He was justโฆ asking.
Direct. Honest.
Like he always did.
And suddenly, it wasnโt funny anymore.
โโฆI mean,โ you started, quieter now, โI donโt expectโฆ all that dramatic stuff.โ
He waited.
โI justโฆโ you hesitated. โSometimes I wonder if you even like me.โ
Silence.
โI do,โ he said.
You blinked.
โโฆYou do?โ
โYes.โ
โโฆOh.โ
That wasโฆ not what you expected.
โโโโโโโโโ โโ โโ โ
โโโโโโโโโ
Something shifted after that.
Not dramatically. Not overnight.
Butโฆ noticeably. It started small.
One evening, you were reading on the couch when he sat beside you.
Closer than usual. Not touching.
Justโฆ close.
You noticed. Said nothing.
Thenโ
His hand moved.
Slowly. Carefully.
And rested next to yours.
Not holding. Not quite touching.
Justโฆ there.
You stared at it. Then at him.
He was looking straight ahead, completely composed.
But his fingersโฆ twitched slightly. Like he wasnโt used to this either.
You smiled. And gently placed your hand over his.
He froze.
But he didnโt pull away. Didnโt react.
Justโฆ stayed.
But his grip tightened. Just a little.
โโโโโโโโโ โโ โโ โ
โโโโโโโโโ
Yeosang approached affection like he approached everything else:
Methodically.
Which led toโฆ some very interesting moments.
โYou lookโฆ acceptable.โ
โAcceptable???โ
He paused.
โโฆGood.โ
You burst out laughing. He looked mildly offended.
Another time, you were in the kitchen when he suddenly hugged you.
From behind. Stiffly.
Like he had read instructions but didnโt quite understand them.ย
You nearly dropped the spoon.
โโฆYeosang?โ
โโฆYes.โ
โโฆAre you okay?โ
โI am attempting something.โ
โโฆI can tell.โ
Pause.
โโฆIs it working?โ
You turned in his arms, smiling.
โYeah. It is.โ
The third time, you came home one day to find candles.
Everywhere. Way too many candles.
โYeosangโwhy does it look like a ritual in here?โ
โI read that this creates atmosphere.โ
โโฆFor what?โ
He hesitated.
โโฆRomance.โ
You stared at him.
Then laughed so hard you had to sit down.
He looked deeply confused.
Despite the awkwardness, the stiffness, the occasional complete misunderstanding of fictional tropesโ
He was trying. For you.
And that mattered more than anything.
But the real momentโ
The one that stayed with you came quietly. Like everything important did with him.
It was late.
You were half-asleep, curled up on your side of the bed.
When you felt it.
A shift. Warmth. Weight.
You blinked your eyes open.
And realizedโ
Yeosang had moved.
Closer. Not all the way.
But enough that his arm rested lightly over your waist.
Careful. Hesitant.
Like he was giving you the chance to pull away.
You didnโt.
Instead, you leaned back slightly. Into him.
He stiffened. But then relaxed.
And that meant a lot.
โโโโโโโโโ โโ โโ โ
โโโโโโโโโ
Yeosang didnโt become a completely different person.
He didnโt start making grand declarations or dramatic confessions.
But you started noticing more. A lot more.
The way he always made sure you ate. The way heโd stand just a little closer in public.
The way his hand would find yours without thinking.
The way he remembered everything you said.
Even the smallest things. Especially the smallest things.
And sometimes, when he thought you werenโt lookingโฆ youโd catch it.
A soft expression. A quiet fondness.
Something warm.
Something yours.
โโโโโโโโโ โโ โโ โ
โโโโโโโโโ
One night, you found something unexpected.
On your pillow. A book.
One of yours.
Withโฆ sticky notes. You picked it up slowly.
Opened it.
And saw annotations.
โThis is unrealistic.โ
โThis is inefficient communication.โ
โโฆThis is acceptable.โ
You laughed. Then flipped to the last page.
Where a single note waited.
โI am still learning. Be patient.โ
Your chest tightened.
Soft. Full. Overwhelming.
You looked up.
And there he was. Standing by the door.
Watching you.
โYou wrote this?โ you asked.
โYes.โ
You smiled. Walked over.
โAnd what if I said youโre doing really well?โ
He paused.
Then, very gently, he reached out.
Tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.
โโฆThat would beโฆ good.โย
โYeosang?โ
โYes.โ
โโฆDo you love me?โ
A rare question.
Direct. Vulnerable.
He didnโt answer immediately.
You waited.
Thenโ
he stepped closer.
Rested his forehead lightly against yours.
And said, quietly:
โI would not be doing all of thisโฆ if I didnโt.โ
Not dramatic. Not poetic. Not straight out of your books.
But somehow better.
Because it was him.
And as his hand found yoursโsteady now, no hesitationโ you realized something.
Maybe your story wasnโt like the ones you read. Maybe it didnโt have grand speeches or perfect moments.
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