Note: fromis9 supremacy. Jiheon my bias supremacy. Like Me Better is such a pretty song ngl.
You don’t remember much about the ceremony, and you’re pretty sure that’s a trauma response.
Your mother had cried—though you still weren’t sure if it was joy or guilt. Your father, tight-lipped and straight-backed in his suit, shook hands with Jiheon’s manager like this was some brokered truce between warring companies. It was quiet, not in a peaceful way, but in the kind of way that felt like everyone was walking on eggshells because someone might snap.
The bride didn’t wear white. She wore black slacks, a blazer, and a look on her face that could’ve made the sun rethink shining that day. Jiheon didn’t even look at you as she signed the marriage registration—her gaze focused just over your shoulder, as if she was mentally somewhere far, far away.
Honestly, you wouldn’t have minded being there with her, if only to escape the suffocating weight of what had just happened.
An arranged marriage. In this day and age.
You weren’t royalty, or chaebol heirs, or reality show contestants. You were just… the unlucky child of a powerful real estate family, and Jiheon, the idol of a company that was barely having its first step in entertainment.
Business ties. Contractual benefits. Media coverage. Whatever the real reason was, it clearly wasn’t love. Hell, it wasn’t even like.
It reminded you of the first (and the only) meeting before the arrangement was final. At a company dinner, where she sat three seats away and didn’t even acknowledge your existence beyond a polite nod when her manager introduced you.
Her fans would’ve called her elegant. Reserved. Maybe even cool.
You, on the other hand, saw the exact moment she looked at you and realized she was going to be tethered to you legally for the foreseeable future. Her eye smile barely twitched. But her eyes—those adorable yet sharp, unreadable eyes—darkened like storm clouds right before thunder hits.
After that dinner, your parents tried to convince you. They brought up her reputation—how she was smart, how she always carried herself well, and how this alliance would benefit both sides.
You tried to push back. She was a member of fromis_9, for god’s sake. She was active, popular. You were some half-baked heir who hadn’t even figured out what you wanted to do with your life yet. What would she gain from marrying you, outside of a bullet point on a corporate merger document?
“Jiheon agreed,” they said.
You still winced how that sentence stung more than it should have. Not “she wanted to.” Not “she likes you.” Just—“she agreed.”
Like she was tolerating this.
Like she was tolerating you.
Anyway, back in the present, she walks ahead of you as you step out of the city registry office.
Her pace is fast and exact, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement, not once glancing back to check if you were keeping up. The car is waiting at the curb, black and sleek and silent, much like her.
You slide into the backseat beside her, trying not to let the awkwardness crush your lungs. Her gaze is glued to her phone, thumb scrolling with surgical precision. Probably messages from her group chat. Probably better people to be around than you.
“Should I, um… move my stuff into the guest room when we get back?” you ask, voice embarrassingly unsure.
Jiheon exhales. Not a sigh exactly, just... a long, slow breath like she’s reminding herself she still has to breathe near you. “Do what you want,” she mutters.
You nod. Stare out the window. Try not to drown in the silence.
-
The apartment is new. Too new.
White walls, untouched counters, and everything smelling like plastic wrap and a showroom catalogue. You’d picked the unit together during one of those “family obligation” weekends, though she didn’t say more than three full sentences the whole time. Still, she gave a small nod when you suggested this one—slightly bigger than necessary, with two bedrooms and a view of the Han River.
You don’t know why she agreed. Maybe because it let her avoid being near you more than necessary.
As you step inside, she kicks off her heels and heads straight to the larger bedroom without a word. The door shuts behind her before you can say anything.
Not slam-shut. But final.
Like a period at the end of a sentence you weren’t allowed to finish.
You sigh and roll your suitcase into the guest room.
It still smells like fresh paint.
You flop onto the bed and stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out where to begin when your partner—your wife, legally—is the kind of person who barely tolerates being in the same airspace.
You thought marriage wasn’t supposed to feel like a contract between strangers.
But maybe that’s what you two are. Strangers, now wearing rings you didn’t pick, in a home that doesn’t feel like yours.
You think about the way she avoided your eyes the entire time you said your vows. Cold. Untouchable.
So you made yourself a quiet promise, lying on the unfamiliar mattress with the ceiling fan humming above you. A vow you didn’t say out loud—not to her, not to anyone. Just to yourself.
If this marriage was inevitable, then at the very least, you weren’t going to make her feel like she was trapped.
But for now?
You settle in the guest bed, alone.
And the house remains just as silent as the ceremony.
-
You started small.
Fresh towels on the rack before her shower. Her side of the fridge stocked with her favourite drinks—those weird fizzy kombuchas you noticed she drinks all the time. Slippers left by the front door facing outwards, so she wouldn’t have to turn them around when she came home exhausted.
She noticed. Of course she did. You could tell by the way her eyes lingered for half a second longer on the table when you left out her coffee just the way she liked it—black, no sugar, no comments.
But that didn’t mean she liked it.
One morning, you were plating up toast and eggs—nothing fancy, but warm and ready—when you felt her eyes on your back.
“You don’t have to do all this,” she said, her voice flat, more exhausted than angry.
You turned around, spatula in hand. She stood a few feet away, arms crossed over her hoodie, hair still damp from the shower.
“It’s just breakfast,” you offered with a small shrug. “You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday’s schedule.”
She raised a brow, unimpressed. “And how would you know that?”
“Um…You left your lunch in the fridge. Still untouched.”
That made her flinch slightly—barely visible, but you caught it.
She scoffed, brushing a hand through her hair. “I didn’t ask you to keep tabs on me.”
“I’m not,” you said, gently. “I just… noticed.”
“Then stop noticing.”
That one stung. You looked down, pressing your thumb into the edge of the counter just to ground yourself.
“I’m not…I'm not trying to pity you, Jiheon,” you said, carefully, like every word might be landmines. “This is your home too. I’m just… trying to make sure you feel that.”
She stared at you for a beat too long, and you weren’t sure if she was about to throw her mug at you or leave again.
“I don’t need your comfort,” she said finally. “Or your kindness. Especially not if it’s because you feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you,” you replied, softly. “But I do feel responsible—for making sure you don’t feel alone here.”
She shook her head, lips tight. “You don’t get it.”
“Of course I don't. Help me understand.”
Her shoulders dropped just slightly, like she wanted to argue, wanted to fight, but was just too tired. She turned around instead, muttering under her breath as she walked away.
“I never asked for any of this…”
Still, you didn’t stop, and she didn't even try to hide her disdain.
You heard it in the frustrated sigh she let out when she opened the fridge and saw the labelled containers: ‘Dinner (spicy, for Jiheon)’.
You caught her rolling her eyes when you left two umbrellas by the door during the rainy week.
Once, during a particularly long day, you’d seen her struggling to adjust the strap of her bag before heading out.
You reached forward, gently fixing it for her without a word.
She jerked away like your touch burned. “Don’t.”
You froze mid-reach. “Sorry,” you murmured, taking a step back. “Just… trying to help.”
She glared. “You’re not my manager.”
“No. I’m not,” you said quietly. “I’m just your… husband.”
The word tasted bitter when you said it. Like it didn’t belong in your mouth.
She didn’t respond. Just left. The door clicked shut behind her.
-
The first real crack happens over laundry. Literally.
You’re carrying her load out of the washer—because she’s forgotten it for over six hours and you figured it’d start smelling otherwise—and as you pull out one of her dark stage outfits, a delicate black top with pearl detailing catches on the corner of the machine.
You freeze.
Then you hear her door open.
“What are you doing?” she asks, sharply.
You turn slowly, the top in your hand, pearl hanging by a thread like a guillotine about to drop.
“I—was just moving your stuff to the dryer,” you say, holding your breath. “I didn’t mean to— It got caught—”
“Don’t touch my things!” she snaps, stepping forward and yanking it from your hand.
You flinch, but she’s already glaring down at the snagged fabric like it personally betrayed her. Her fingers tremble, and you realize—she’s not just angry. She’s upset.
You exhaled before choosing your words carefully. “I’ll pay - I'll pay for the repairs.”
Her voice is low this time, not yelling—just cold. “You think money fixes everything?”
"N-" You want to say no, but that’s exactly how this marriage started, isn’t it?
She doesn’t wait for an answer. She turns and disappears back into her room, laundry abandoned.
So that night, you stayed up late watching YouTube tutorials on how to sew, practicing on your old T-shirt like it’s your final exam. Even on the break of dawn, you rushed to the craft store the next day and buy a matching pearl kit.
And when you finally fix it—clumsy but careful and attentive—you leave it folded outside her door with a note:
“Didn’t mean to touch your stuff. Just didn’t want it to gone bad. Sorry for the pearl. I tried. (Also, the washer’s a bitch.)”
She doesn’t say anything.
But one day, you find your favourite hoodie, the one you thought went missing, folded neatly on your bed.
-
One night, you came home late after pulling an all-nighter at work.
Your muscles ached, your brain felt like it had been replaced with mashed potatoes, and all you could think about was diving face-first into the couch. You barely even registered the lights were still on in the living room until your hand brushed something soft—warm.
A blanket. Neatly folded at the corner of the couch. Yours, but you hadn’t left it there.
Blinking, you sat up. On the coffee table sat a plate of food—kimchi stew and rice, still faintly steaming. A post it note stuck on the side of the plate read:
“Don’t let it get cold. — J”
You stared at it for a long second.
It was the first time Jiheon had referred to you by anything other than passive-aggressive silence or the occasional "you."
And somehow, the ‘J’ felt more personal than if she had written her full name.
You stood there dumbly for a moment, holding the note between your fingers, your stomach growling in agreement with your disbelief.
You’d been married for over three months now.
The start was a disaster. She was an idol. You were a nobody.
Okay, not a nobody, but to Jiheon—whose schedule was booked months in advance with music shows, practices, radio appearances—you might as well have been a money bag couch cushion with a pulse. A necessary condition of this ridiculous contract between your families. You weren't even a fan of fromis_9 when the proposal came through. In fact, you barely listened to idol music. So you weren’t dazzled by the glamour or the idea of being married to "the Jiheon of fromis_9." If anything, that made things worse.
She thought you were pretending. Faking indifference to gain favour. But you weren't pretending.
You were just... trying to exist.
And slowly, she must've started to see that as you found her in the kitchen the following morning, hair tied up messily with strands escaping around her face. She moved quietly, careful not to disturb the stillness, grabbing a smoothie from the fridge. The sunlight filtered softly through the window, casting gentle shadows across her face—softening her usual stern features.
She didn’t look up when you entered, but her voice startled you.
“I added tofu,” she said, voice casual but not unkind. “You said you liked it.”
You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest like slow sunrise light. “Thanks. It was really good.”
She shrugged, already turning away. “Don’t expect it every time.”
You laughed softly, the sound light but genuine.
-
Days turned into weeks, and the ice around Jiheon began to chip away—not with grand gestures or words, but in small, almost imperceptible ways.
She stopped sighing audibly when you were around. She ceased glaring at you when you accidentally left a dish in the sink overnight. And sometimes, when she thought you weren’t looking, she would watch you with something softer in her eyes—like a slow dawn creeping over a mountain peak.
One evening, she came home from dance practice limping slightly, the usual confident grace replaced by quiet pain. You noticed immediately, heart tightening in your chest.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she said too quickly, brushing past you.
You followed her anyway, watched her sit on the edge of the bed and grimace as she untied her sneakers.
“Is it your ankle?” you asked.
“I said I’m fine.”
You didn’t respond. Just quietly knelt down, reached for her foot.
Jiheon moved her ankle away. “Don’t—”
“I’ll be gentle. Please?”
She didn’t stop you. Just watched.
Your touch was tentative at first—fingers tracing the warm, swollen skin beneath her sock. You could feel her tension slowly melting away, her breathing evening out.
"That must've been painful."
"Thanks, Sherlock…" She murmured, but there were less snarky as usual.
“I’ll get ice.”
She didn’t say anything as you left the room, or when you came back with a towel-wrapped pack. But when you gently rested it on her ankle, she let out a small sigh.
Not pain. Just relief.
You looked up.
She was watching you.
And for the first time since your wedding day, Jiheon looked at you like you were real.
Like maybe you weren’t just a stranger forced into her life.
Like maybe she didn’t mind the thought of you being in it.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
And this time, you didn’t pretend not to hear it.
-
The rain came down steady one night, light tapping against the metal railing of the balcony. You sat beside Jiheon (couldn't sleep, the neighbour got a bit too loud), each of you holding a mug, steam curling upwards and vanishing into the cold air. She wasn’t looking at you. Just out — past the apartments across the street, beyond the rows of windows lit in soft yellows and whites. Her legs were drawn up loosely to her chest, chin resting on her knee, hoodie sleeves covering her hands.
Neither of you had said anything in the past ten minutes. And honestly, you were okay with that.
Then, quietly, she spoke.
“I hated this, you know.”
You turned slightly. “The rain?”
“No,” she said, eyes still forward. “This whole arrangement. The marriage. You.”
It didn’t sting. Not really. You’d figured that out ages ago — the way she avoided you, the way she barely let you exist in her orbit unless it was necessary. But hearing it out loud… that was a different kind of weight.
You didn’t say anything. Just let her keep going.
“I felt like I was being forced to open a door I didn’t want to walk through. I didn’t know you. Didn’t want to know you. And yet I had to wake up with someone else’s breathing in my space.”
She paused, then let out a short breath. It wasn’t a sigh exactly — more like she was sorting through the rest of her thoughts before deciding which ones were worth saying out loud.
“But you weren’t… what I expected,” she said finally. “You didn’t push. You didn’t hover. You just… stayed.”
You watched her fingers tighten slightly around the mug.
“I kept waiting for you to be selfish about it. To ask for something in return. But you never did.”
You blinked, surprised. “You make me sound a lot more noble than I actually am.”
Jiheon snorted. “Don’t get cocky. You still microwave the fucking fish like a war criminal.”
A small laugh escaped you. “Okay, rude. I was hasty that one time.”
She finally turned to look at you then — not fully, just a glance. But there was no sharpness in her eyes tonight. No cold barrier. Just something calmer.
“I’m can't promise you anything,” she said, voice lower. “I’m still figuring things out. Still figuring this out. Still figuring you out.”
You nodded. “I’m not asking for anything, either.”
Her gaze lingered on you a second longer before she looked down at her tea.
“…I don’t hate it anymore,” she sipped her tea. “Coming home and seeing you here.”
You swallowed. The rain suddenly felt like background noise, faint and distant.
“I'm glad you don't,” you said.
She nudged her mug against yours lightly. Not a toast. Just contact.
Then, almost like it was nothing, she added, “Also, you can stop pretending you don’t know I’ve been eating the dinners you leave in the fridge.”
You raised an eyebrow. “So it was you. I thought we had a polite ghost. It even washes the dishes as well.”
She looked at you again. No smirk this time, just a small twitch at the corner of her mouth.
“Gosh, you’re such an idiot,” she murmured.
“But a tolerable one?” you offered.
Jiheon didn’t answer immediately. She just nudged your knee with hers — subtle, barely there — then went back to sipping her tea.
It was late at night, lonely in the streets, but waiting for someone. Your shoes stepped on the wet leaves, glistening a wiggly pattern of lights on the cement, and guiding you back home. The wind was cold, you forgot your coat, bad decision, but the thought of her was enough to warm you, at least enough to walk. The front of your building was gray and dull, but a small pot of orange poppies decorated the door frame, beside the welcome mat. You didn’t need to water them today, they were already relaxed with nature’s gift.
After cleaning your shoes, you entered the front door and walked up the stairs to your apartment. You opened the door.
The room was quiet, only the sound of the cars bleaching through the walls could be heard. You remained still for a moment, waiting for a voice, instead you heard soft snores far away. You walked down the hallway to see Jiheon sleeping calmly in her bed, your bed. She was wrapped around your pillow, small and vulnerable like a little bear. Her face was serene, the corners of her mouth ever so slightly curved up. You softly brushed her hair and went back outside.
She had already eaten, and there were piles of dishes and pans in the sink. You told her before you would’ve come late. But she wasn’t much of a foodie, she ate very little and was probably hungry right now. There were a couple of packs of instant noodles in the kitchen cupboards, they would be fine.
Jiheon was rolling around, lost in her dreams. She went from one side of the bed to the other, losing the pillow. Her hands instinctively went around, searching for something but finding nothing, they curled to her body. Feeling empty, she slowly opened her eyes and looked around. Where is he? Was it already morning? The window lit the bedroom and the room. She was expecting the sun but the light came from the moon.
Rolling down from her bed, Jiheon raised her ears and heard some rustling in the kitchen and the sound of boiling water. She grinned and slid to the floor, before standing up and sneaking out the hallway.
There she saw you, the sun she was expecting. Jiheon smiled and walked to you and wrapped her arms around your waist and pressed her chest to your back. You felt her touch and caressed her arms, letting her hold you.
“I missed you,” you said. She squeezed your body, far snugglier than your sweater.
“You say that but I had to wait for you all day,” Jiheon mumbled into your back, gripping it with a firm hold.
“I’m sorry. I really wanted to see you too.” You turned around and saw a small Jiheon still wrapped under you. She slightly loosened her hold, taking a small step back, and went on her toes trying to reach something on your head. Jiheon perked her lips and extended all her height, only to come back down, sulking at you.
You giggled, “What were you doing?”
“It’s not my fault you’re so tall,” she groaned, pouting. “I can’t give you a forehead kiss.”
You laughed and quickly pecked her head.
“What are you doing?” Jiheon hissed. “I have to do it. Come down! I have to kiss you!” Her hand went over your neck and she pulled your head toward her, dragging you down - If I can’t go up, you’re going down with me. Your knees bent until you were looking straight at her. Then she kissed your forehead, and again, and another time. Jiheon grinned widely, finally satisfied. That damn smile.
“See? It wasn’t that hard,” she said, beaming, you couldn’t see her eyes anymore from her large grin.
“Yeah, right,” you mumbled and turned around to the counter. You were blushing. There was something with her, usually, she was pretty quiet, but now she got very flirty. Or maybe it was you that was too weak for her. You finally cooled down, focusing on the stove, and said, “Let me serve these noodles.”
“Okay,” Jiheon said and waddled away to the table. You got the bowls out and poured the broth. It wasn’t much, a college student’s best friend. But what matters is who you eat it with.
“So how is the most beautiful person in the world doing?” you asked her while putting the bowls on the table.
Jiheon was looking at her phone and she continued scrolling. “I don’t know. How are you?” she said nonchalantly.
You stopped for a moment, the bowl still in your hand. Your voice cracked. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Jiheon laughed and put her phone down, welcoming you to the table. “Come on, I’m not the only one who thinks that.”
“Oh, I can assure you, you are.” You handed her the noodles and sat in front of her.
“Are you tired? Was it stressful today?” you asked and slurped the food.
“Not particularly,” Jiheon responded. “We didn’t practice very hard today, just went over the same choreo.”
You and Jiheon ate the noodles and chatted, slurping, laughing. You would tell her whatever interesting things happened with the coworkers of your office where you have an internship, and she would tell you stories of her friends, old or new. A lot of interesting things happen around her as she’s obviously in the entertainment industry. Jiheon would tell you about Jiwon and Hayoung’s silly sexy competition, Chaeyoung’s disses, and Jisun's sudden sparks of energy. In your turn, you would tell her about your breaks - how one guy couldn’t stop talking about cute girls, another putting sport into everything, a glass guy sharing pictures and pictures of girls. But you made sure to precisely how you didn’t care about the pictures, feeling the danger in the air, instead only looking at hers.
“Who carried the show last time?” you asked.
“Chaeyoung and Jiwon, obviously, they can’t stay quiet.”
“Does that come naturally to them?” you asked.
Jiheon sighed. “Jiwon starves for cameras and Chaeyoung likes to tease everyone. You can’t have a single dull moment with them or be at peace, they are always behind the corner ready to do something.”
“What about the rest of the members?”
“The quiet unit,” she explained. “When Jisun, Nakyung, Saerom, and Gyuri are together nothing happens and the room becomes extremely quiet, and they randomly laugh or say something. Seoyeon and Hayoung just go with the flow.”
Jiheon put down the bowl and stretched her arms out and got up. “Let me get something to drink,” said Jiheon walking to the kitchen. “What do you want?” “Something as dark as my avenging soul," you responded. Jiheon rustled something in the fridge and came out.
Milk.
“I feel insulted,” you said.
“You should be,” she chuckled. “How long are you going to keep this act up? You’re a soft teddy bear.”
“Whatever,” you scoffed and drank the milk.
“Tasty.”
“Yeah, I thought so.”
After finishing the drinks, you got up and went to the kitchen with the dirty dishes and cleaned them. Jiheon waited for you in your room, scrolling her phone on the bed. There were a lot of her friends posting, dance challenges, funny videos, and study tips but not you. Jiheon rolled around trying to make time pass but got bored. She blew her bangs out from her eyes and got out. She peeked again in the kitchen, seeing you still cleaning the dishes.
She looked at your back, your neck, your nape… she wanted to kiss. It was pretty much asking for it. Jiheon sneaked behind you, leaned forward, and plopped her small head on your shoulder. Her eyes glowed. You turned around, “What are you doing?” you asked. “I’m waiting,” she said and smooched your neck.
You stopped for a moment. “What was that?”
“Affection.”
“Disgusting.” You remained quiet, but a tentative smile built up as surprise sank in, she noticed it. And then you said, “Do it again.”
Jiheon gladly did so, smooching you again, coming down to your collarbone too. You didn’t want to make her wait too much, so when you were finished, you went to the bathroom to quickly clean yourself and came back to snuggle into the covers with her.
When you hit the bed, she wrapped you immediately and immobilized you, better than a wrestler. She smiled at you, with that angelic grin, now covered in the blankets and her arms, it seemed like it was her wings wrapping you and she was your guardian angel.
“Finally together,” said Jiheon. “Are you tired?”
“Well, not anymore,” you answered and patted her hair, her cheeks glowed. She felt safe close to you, as she moved to feel more of you, she felt pleasure and tingling at every touch. You continued to stroke her smooth glowy hair. Her smile slowly weakened, but her eyes still couldn’t be seen, that’s when she gets sleepy.
Jiheon yawned. You knew it.
“Must be tiring being pretty all day,” you commented. She turned her head around with a smug.
“Then you must be exhausted.”
“Can you stop it?” You laughed.
“Nope,” she said as you hid in her neck. She patted your back, your final snuggles got you more and more sleepy. You sniffed her scent, a mix of her, shampoo and perfume, it was floral and soft. Your eyelids trembled, danced their last moves, and closed.
You fell asleep. Jiheon smiled and tried to sleep. But she stayed awake. She looked around and at you. Your cheek. A mischievous idea popped up in her mind. Very carefully she rose up, holding herself with her arms, and crawled on top of you. You were sleeping calmly with your mouth slightly open. Jiheon watched you smiling, almost blanking out when she caught herself. Her face went closer to your cheek, with her lips out, slowly, and she kissed…
You shifted. Your mouth.
Jiheon pulled out in surprise, blushing madly. She covered her face as you were opening your eyes. You saw her and quickly understood what was going on. You grabbed her neck, pulling her toward you. She tried to resist but gave in.
“No!” Jiheon squirmed, flustered.
“Come here! I saw you!”
“It wasn’t on purpose! I went for your cheek.”
“Well, now I want a real kiss,” you said and attacked her lips. She didn’t resist now though. Jiheon puffed her cheeks in annoyance. She was supposed to look mad, but it was impossible because she looked way too adorable. You pinched her cheeks and she flinched back, “pfft”.
“What are you doing?” Jiheon exclaimed.
“You got real cute cheeks, you know that?” you told her. “It’s my favorite part of you.”
“You said the same thing about my smile, eyes, thighs, belly…”
You shrugged your shoulders. “Can’t help it, I love everything about you.”
“Fine,” Jiheon smiled, “Go ahead.”
“What?” you asked her with a grin. You knew perfectly what it was.
“You can touch my cheeks.”
“Aha!” Jiheon instinctively squinted her eyes. You got both of your hands on both sides of her face and massaged her two round cheeks, she was smothered in your hands and her cheeks felt as soft as mochi, her skin was puffing through your fingers. Jiheon whined but was smiling so wide, making her cheeks even fluffier.
“Why do you even like them…?” she managed to ask.
“I don’t know, you’re just so adorable.”
Jiheon couldn’t say anything but a muffled whine.
“Let’s sleep now, though. It’s late," you later said.
“Fine."
“Good night, honey.”
“Night.” Jiheon hugged your chest, she could hear your heartbeat. It was a quiet pumping, it was a strange sound, but reassuring, knowing you were beside her. It beat at a certain rhythm, like the engine of a train, the train to dreamland.
“Well, how was it?” You look at your girlfriend with a shot glass in your hand.
She looks at you, smiles then raise her glass in the air. “Time for a quatro?”
Both of you smile as you take your shot. The bitter taste of the soju is going to make you forget about the past week. You fill Jiheon’s shot glass.
“Hey, are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Not really. I just want to celebrate! Woooo Hooooo!” You scream. The five beers and two bottles already made you who you are right now.
Jiheon swiftly takes the shot again. She raises it and then slams it on the table.
You smile as you look at her laugh. She is and has always been a blessing to you. The way she laughs, the way she looks at you, and the way she makes you happy. You are the luckiest guy in the world since you are with Jiheon.
“Woooooooo!” Jiheon already took her tenth shot as you start to reminisce about why you started dating her.
You look down at the table. There are a few pieces left of fries. “Want more?”
Jiheon smiles at you with her Asian glow already on her cheeks. She is barely drunk but is definitely on her way to being. “Sure, just make sure it is cheese flavored.”
You raise your hand to call the waitress and look at the menu that you are given. “Can I have fries?”
“Sure anything else?”
“Ummm, one—”
Jiheon glares at you.
“Two more bottles of beer and one bottle of soju. Thank you.”
Jiheon smiles at you. The same smile that you have always loved about her and it is something you would always want to see.
Soon the waitress comes back with your drinks and fries.
“Ya! Oppa! I said no ketchup!”
“Jiheon, you love ketchup.”
“Oh yeah.” *Hiccup* “I do love ketchup.” She stands up and pulls you closer to her. “Like how I love you.”
You freeze for a second. As much as you have been dating for five months, Jiheon hasn’t said I love you, or at least until now.
She falls down back to her chair and grabs some fries and drips them in the ketchup and eats some. You sit there shocked.
Jiheon loves me?
“Jiheon-ah, are you drunk?”
“Maybe.” *hiccup*
“Okay, let’s go.”
You pick her up and bring her with you. She leans on your side as she struggles to get her two feet planted on the ground. Her entire body almost falls to the floor as you try to place her on the bench so you can wait for a taxi.
“Oppa?”
“Yes, Jiheon?”
“Do you love me?”
“Uhh…”
“I said I love you.”
“I love you Jiheon…with all my heart.”
Jiheon leans for a kiss and a brief moment your lips collide. But you have to push her away as her breath stinks of alcohol. Fortunately, the taxi arrives. You try your best to stuff Jiheon inside the taxi then after you get inside. You put on her seatbelt so she can be safe, then you put on yours.
The taxi driver looks at you. “Need this?”
“Thank you.”
You prepare it just in case for Jiheon. But she seems stable, so instead, you look out at the window.
We are now at a time where a lot of my first fics turn 1 year old. Yay! I think this is a perfect time for an ad, an ad about my new, official AO3 account. Because of Tumblr’s new policy (ew) and for other reasons, I have decided to gradually move my works to AO3 as well.
THIS DOES NOT MEAN that I’ll move away from Tumblr. This will continue to be my main site for the forseable future, so you don’t have to move lmao. My fics will first be posted here and someday to AO3.
Update: Will there be a fic this week? Maybe, probably, but tbh, no clue.
Enough talk about me. After all, this post is dedicated to these amazing writers and wonderful people that are on here WELL DESERVED! Give love to these cuties:
-1-
@withcreamandsugar: Stray ft. Seola
The Isa fic (with the VERY accurate name Feral) was already insane, and this checks the box of heart warming and... other-places warming. I really enjoyed this, easily my favorite Seola character and fuck... I’m craving meat rn lmao
Also: Jazz pog
-2-
@erospandemos: Her little kisses ft. Jiheon (fluff)
This is adorable. For all fluff and Jiheon enjoyers, this is the way. I can feel myself getting warmer reading this siiigh
-3-
@falsesubmission: Kinktober: Spanking ft. Ahn Yujin
M A D L A D! Attempting Kinktober, having a full outline and then choosing an excellent kink for our Puppy? Yep, you’re on the map now! I’m excited to see how it’ll go.
-4-
@capslocked: Vanity ft. Chaewon
I heard someone say that this is perfect in every way. What can I say...
Y
E
S
Damn it, the tease alone is Oscar Worthy, the actual fucking will blow your mind and ahhhhhhh, I can’t get rid of Chaewon, she is just too hot.
-5-
@writerpeach: Classroom Copulation ft. Arin
The man. The myth. The legend. The thing’s Arins ass does to you hehe, we need more MORE M O R E. This is just so good!
-6-
@co-reborn: No Words ft. Tzuyu
I wanted to do some Tzuyu research and what better writer to look for than our adorable C.O. Keep it up, buddy, and you, dear reader, keep your heads up: Something is cumming coming ;)
Tags: birthday, fluff, first kiss, dancing, low-key, late night
I really wrote this last minute because I had no time and for that reason, it’s unedited so it’s kind of rough, sorry guys.
It was 00:34 and everyone was sleeping. Everyone but Jiheon. She was on her phone, trying to call her boyfriend who wasn’t answering at all. It was her birthday today. So why weren’t you answering any of her calls? It’s been 24 hours, she started calling you in the morning—deciding that waking you up at 3 AM was acceptable since it was her day—but you didn’t answer, and it was understandable, the problem was that you did not answer even one of the 29 following calls.
To be honest, Jiheon didn’t know if she should’ve been mad or worried but when it was her phone that rang, and you were calling now, she settled with mad. Jiheon sighs angrily and rolls her eyes, she snuggles into her bedsheets and answers the phone.
“What?” she says drily.
“30 missed calls? Were you trying to set a record?” you softly chuckle on the other end.
Jiheon did not find it funny. You were wholeheartedly laughing while she was worried sick and just fuming mad. Jiheon scoffs. Unbelievable. “Are you serious right now?” she asks, glaring at her phone. If your face was on the screen she would’ve slapped it.
“Huh? What’s wrong?” you reply.
“What’s wrong?” Jiheon slowly repeats emphasizing every letter. “What’s wrong is that you barely spoke to me for the past week—which I can understand—but now, when you do, it’s so dry as if I’m actually bothering you. That’s right? I am a bother.”
“Jiheon, no, no,” you rush to correct her. “It’s just that I’ve been so busy all week.”
“No. It isn’t that. I know you’re always busy but when you’d reply late, you’d do it with a long-ass message but now—now, you can’t even reply with three letters.”
“Honie, not now,” you groan.
“And yesterday, you ghosted me! You didn’t even read my messages. We talked about this already. That’s wrong. I don’t care how big your problem is, just tell me, dump it on me,” she says with frustration.
“I know, I know… Heonie, please, just—”
“No.” Jiheon ignores you. “And don’t tell me you actually forgot what day it is today.”
“Uhh, Monday,” you say. “Jiheon, please. I’m sorry. Whatever it is, I’m sorry. I—It’s just… It’s not a good day today, okay?”
Jiheon huffs and lets her head fall into the bed. She couldn’t help it. “Today’s the worst,” she agrees with you for once. “So tell me…” she starts, “What are you mad about today?”
You sigh and slump against the cold plastic wall of the station. “My bus got delayed and now, my girlfriend’s mad at me,” you uttered. Jiheon, at those words, softens.
“Bus?” Jiheon asks and you hum. “To where?”
“To my girlfriend,” you answer. “It’s her birthday.”
Jiheon jumps out of her bed. She doesn’t even change clothes and just grabs her coat. “Where are you?” she asks as she rushes to the living room to grab her keys and purse. She runs down the stairs and out to the cold. Her breath fogs the air while she confirms your location. To her, and your, luck, you’re just twenty minutes away from her.
She drives and quickly finds you in a lonely bus station under a semi-broken lamp. There you were, with a cake box between your arm and chest while you were holding your phone between your neck. You smile when you recognize her behind the car window.
Jiheon parks in front of the cubicle and runs to you.
You smile and put your phone away. Jiheon smiles as well but tears stream down her face while she hugs you tight. You hug her back and clean her tears with your thumbs. You chuckle softly. “What has gotten into you?”
“I’m so sorry,” Jiheon says, pulling you in tighter, and wrapping her arms around your shoulders and back. She was still in her pajamas and slippers, her coat was half open, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t even cold. She missed you more than anything and was waiting this exact moment for the whole week.
“Happy birthday, love,” you barely mumble with her coat muffling your voice. Jiheon squeezes you one last time and pulls away. In a flick, you catch the box that was sliding down until now and put it on the seat.
“Phew…” you sigh. “As I was saying,” you start again, “Happy birthday to my sweetest baby.” You cup her cheeks, creased for her wide smile and look into her humid eyes, reddened but happy. “I love you. I know I couldn’t express it well this past week, you deserved more than that, but today and for the next couple days I have all my time for you. I really appreciate you. It’s been hard but you kept my spirit high and I am extremely grateful for you.”
Jiheon tries her hardest to hold it in. She bites her lips and sniffs, contracting her face in a frown in discomfort. You were going to laugh but she busted in tears. “Darling…” she pleaded between hiccups. “I wuv you sho much, ish my fault sorwy…”
“It’s okay, it’s my fault too,” you laugh. “Don’t be crying now.” You get some tissues from your pocket and wipe her tears away. Jiheon continues to cry, with her arms dangling, while you frantically wipe it down. After a minute she stops and blows her nose with the remaining tissues.
“Let’s go home,” Jiheon says. You make to grab your bag but Jiheon takes it for you and puts it inside. You hold the cake and seat in the passenger seat beside her. You take the time of the ride home to catch up with her. Some fun things happened at work and you had to let her know. You also told her about every chance you had to boast about your girlfriend, who was the best in the world and everyone had to know it.
Once home, you set up the cake, putting the candles on and the little plate with her age. 20 years old. It’s been almost a year since you two started dating. Time sure flies. You look at Jiheon. She wasn’t the immature girl you knew back then anymore. She was mature now, in her features and mannerism but deep inside nothing changed. Her heart was still as kind as always, as joyful and happy. Her smile was still as bright and her eyes still as beautiful. You swore the day when you gave yourself to her that you’d protect that innocence everyday.
You remember everything and chuckle.
“You have to make a wish,” you tell Jiheon.
Jiheon nods, holds her breath and, “Iwishthatmyparentswillbealwayshealthymyboyfriendtooandthathelovesmealwaysandneverleavemeformyfriendstobebymysideandforustobesuccesfuland—”
“Wait! Only one,” you laugh in disbelief. “Also you don’t have to say it, but think it.”
“Oh, okay…”
Jiheon looks at the cake, brings her hands together, closes her eyes and blows the candle. She tears again a little. You smile and look at her. You cup her cheeks once again, a habit you two developed together, and softly whisper to her, “Again, I’m sorry, Heonie.”
She shakes her, smiling happily. “It’s just that I’m very happy darling,” she says and you hum, kissing her nose.
“Oh, wait, I remember I have the present,” you say, eyeing at the paper bag wrapped up in tape.
“What did you get me?” Jiheon asked you.
“Not telling you.”
“Awww, come on! I’ve been waiting all dayyyy,” she pouted. She always gave you that look when you didn’t want to buy her something. But this time she was especially annoyed because she was kicking her legs up and down like a little kid throwing a tantrum. She continued until you finally gave in.
“Okay! Okay, I will get it jeez…”
You ripped the little bag open to reveal a square box, a cd case and a notebook. The cd case said on the front "songs that remind me of you" and a little heart next to it. You and Jiheon had similar taste in music and you had this conversation before, love songs that are perfect for both of you. On the notebook, instead, there was written “reasons why I love you” because Jiheon has always been a little bit insecure, with being an idol and everything. You thought it could help her.
You then handed her the box and left the other things on the table.
“Open it,” you said with a smile.
As Jiheon opened the box her face seemed to be going through twenty different emotions in three seconds. Then she finally looked at you with teary eyes. Saerom would definitely tell Jiheon has cried many times that night and kill you tomorrow when she finds out.
“Darling…”
It was a gold necklace with your and her first initials engraved on a gold plate. It was something you wanted to get for a while now. She said a while back that she wanted to have something to keep that would represent your relationship. You only started to work recently part-time to pay for it. You were glad she liked it.
Next thing you know Jiheon is on top of you tackling you in hugs and kisses, pretty much suffocating you. “Thank you so much, baby! I love it! I love it!” You let her do it and laughed, then in that position, you put your hands behind her back. Closing your eyes, you started swaying, Jiheon chuckled and followed you.
Laughing, you pulled Jiheon into the kitchen along the side of the wall. “Loosen up, Heonie! You know how to dance, don’t you? Imagine it’s raining… wouldn’t it be amazing?”
Jiheon raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Amazing? You wanna play in the rain? What are you? A kid?”
“Wouldn’t it be romantic?” you ask, continuing to sway together. “Us together, alone, away from every distraction, every needless sadness and problem. Under the rain, that’d clean us of everything, the dirt of everyday city life, leaving us wet and anew. We’d dance like nothing exists, not a care in the world. My arms on your waist, your hands on my shoulders, my eyes into yours.”
Jiheon lifted both of her hands and rested them near your neck and tilted her head towards Sanemi to briefly rest it on your shoulder. “Yes, that would be romantic. It’d be amazing… I really do have the best boyfriend in the world,” Jiheon says honestly.
Even under the cold temperature of the weather, you could feel your cheeks heat up. And when she gave you a peck on the cheek, you realized that you didn’t feel so cold anymore.
Your arm fell from Jiheon’s waist, and you took her hand into yours. For a moment, you walked hand in hand around the rainy room. Neither of you said anything; they just enjoyed being in each other’s presence.
For a moment, there were dark clouds in those ceilings. Having you by her side, having Jiheon with you, was enough to make you forget you were even in an apartment. The rain showering down onto your body was more real than anything.
“There’s no music,” said Jiheon quietly.
“We make our own music.”
Jiheon let out a soft laugh. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right.”
So, you and Jiheon slow-danced under the rain. You didn’t care, you just didn’t. All that mattered right now was how happy Jiheon looked while dancing with you. You were glad that even if they couldn’t have a grand event for her birthday, at least she was able to make Jiheon happy with this.
You didn’t know for how long they danced under the rain. They danced for so long that their slow dance had evolved into a frolic, and they were now laughing heartily together as they danced. You had lost track of time.
“We should get some sleep now—you still have work tomorrow,” you told Jiheon quietly. “You don’t want to walk like a zombie during practice, right?”
“It was fun, though,” said Jiheon, gazing at you with a soft expression.
“Yeah, it was,” you agreed. Despite the fact that your ignorance did piss Jiheon off a little and darken her mood in the beginning, she had to admit that you were able to improve her mood considerably. It had been a difficult week for her as well.
You let go of each other. “I have to admit, even if it wasn’t the real thing, it was still romantic. You always see this in movies and dramas. I didn’t think I’d actually ever do it.”
You chuckled to yourself. “Well you always watch dramas, you must have got a couple of ideas every once in a while, right?”
“Well, do you know what else they do in the dramas in the rain?” she asked, sending you a small hopeful glance.
You smiled, answering, “They kiss”
“Then do you wanna—”
“Yes.” She was a little stunned to hear you answer so fast, but nonetheless, she couldn’t hide her cheeky smile when you leaned down and pressed a small kiss to her lips. Nothing crazy, just a short peck, but it left you both a blushing mess.
“You were always scared to hug me in the beginning, I remember,” she started. “It really took almost a year for you to kiss me.”
“Sorry,” you replied. “I’ll try harder.” She just laughed.
“Thank you for dancing with me, Darling,” Jiheon said, smiling.
You grinned back at her. “Not a problem at all. It always warms my heart and delights me to see you happy.”
Jiheon chuckled softly. “I am always happy with you. You make me happy,” she told you. “I love you.”
Written, 16 April 2023 (It’s already 17 of April in Korea)
You walk into a pub. Tired from a study week. College has been tough and all you want to do is relax. Then you go to relax at your favorite watering hole with an ice-cold beer and just enjoy the ambiance. The bartender comes up to you and hands you your drink.
“Long day?”
“Yup! Long week even. And it ain't even finals week.”
“With your eye bags, you need to relax.”
You chug down half your drink. “That’s for my paper due on Monday.” You swig once more to finish the drink. “That’s for the same prof giving a paper due today. Another please.”
As soon as you request, the bartender fills another glass and passes it to you. Then as you start to drink your beer, a woman appears, her hair all messed up like she was rushing her way here.
She shouts. “Sir, one shot of soju please.” He quickly places a shot glass and fills it with a bottle of soju.
She raises it in the air. “Fuck you sir!” and as she says it, she drinks it all. Her eyes cringe and her mouth puckers from the drink.
“You failed a test?” The bartender asks.
“Yes.” She almost sobs “I hate the teacher. I hate this subject. I wish I didn’t enroll in it.” She grabs the ID on her neck and slams it on the table and repetitively smacks it with her fist.
“Just let it all out. Better if you do so.” You remark.
“Wait first. Mr bartender another shot and YOU! Mister who are you to say what I should do.”
Another shot arrives and she takes it in. She grins at your face and waits for you to respond.
“Hey,…..” You try to peek over her shoulder at the ID and try to see her name. “Hey….Jiheon, Just calm down. I have been in the same situation as you.”
“What do you mean the same situation as me?! You don’t know what it is like from being a high school honor student to now a failure.”
“I was an honor student. A valedictorian even and now I’m just surviving. It’s just part of college.”
Jiheon turns away and goes back to her third shot of soju. “I guess. I need to accept my fate.” She stretches her arms then takes her shot.
You look at her with pity, a freshman first knowing what’s college like. Then you go to the bartender. “One glass for her.”
He drafts another beer and hands it over to Jiheon. “Thanks…” Jiheon then sits up. “Wait…what year are you?”
“Fourth.”
“Ah! Sorry.” She stands up from the bar stool and bows to you. “Sorry, Sunbaenim.”
You wave her off. “Just.. don’t call me sunbaenim. Sounds too awkward.”
“So….what do you want me to call you, Sunbae?”
“How about just Oppa?”
“Oppa? Sure. I don’t really have any friends around here.”
“No problem then.” You extend your hand for a handshake.
She takes it. “I’m Jiheon. But you already know that.”
“Now Jiheon, aside from getting drunk and cursing at your professor. Is there anything else you want to do?”
