desc: all you can think about is your ex-boyfriend, jihoon, from day to night. so why not give him a drunken call?
wc: 3k
𝄞: wet hair by audrey hobert
The thunder crashed violently, shaking the window panes and booming around your candle-lit room. A bunch of dried flowers, a now bitter gift, rustled with each powerful gust as a draft poured through a nook you swore you’d investigate months ago. It was a miracle your candles had stayed lit so long as the breeze even wisped stray bits of hair in your face.
The house, in which you rented a small room, always seemed to creak in harsh storms, as if it were ready to give way to persistent gusts and heavy downpours. You used to check the roof, with your ex-boyfriend behind you on the ladder, there for emotional support — and to perform the job that you couldn’t when you realised how high up you were.
Jihoon, your recent ex-boyfriend of a month, made this room come alive in the two years you were together. He’d nailed frames with artwork you’d purchased to the walls, hung the gorgeous white linen curtains you hunted for, and even stained and polished the vanity he’d made for you. So, as you sat looking at your reflection on said vanity, a glass of red wine sitting prettily on a coaster, you couldn’t help but pout, almost pathetically.
The pair of you broke up over a misunderstanding, so silly and stupid, but you were both too stubborn to attempt to rectify it. Hence, the radio silence break-up that has you drinking alone in your room.
Half an hour later, the lightning unrelentingly shone through your pasty curtains. The wine bottle stood half-empty, the glass on the hardwood floor as you sprawled yourself across your red bohemian rug, the itch persistent against your exposed calves as you stared at the ceiling.
The landline, an old eighties-style phone which you were utterly obsessed with, rested on your bedside table with unwavering calm — as if it couldn’t ignite layers and layers of chaos if you used it.
Fuck it.
You scrambled up, the self-pity shooting adrenaline through you as you jumped on the bed with horrific elegance, picking up the receiver and kicking your legs with a tipsy, wicked grin on your lips. His number was like muscle memory, your fingers sliding over each individual key like a dance, rehearsed and repeated a million times over. However, when it came to pressing the dial, you paused, hesitation seeping through the alcohol-induced decision-making.
Suddenly, the crash of thunder made you practically jump out of your skin, your finger pressing the button in the fearful commotion. The long beep! snapping your attention towards the receiver in your hand.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ You begin panicking, with one hand raised as you look at the phone, analysing if you simply unplug the old thing, slam the receiver down or-
‘Hello?’
Jihoon’s deep, velvety voice paused your cursing as you froze, mortified that you’d actually gone through with this. Fuck.
‘Anyone there?’
That voice, the one you planned to have in your ear forever, flooded your senses, your body consumed in goosebumps, your breath held in your throat, apprehension trapping you. The voice you’d last heard the day you broke up, sadness breaking it, shakiness possessing his vocal cords. But now, it was sturdier; there was none of the softness you were used to.
‘Hey,’ you breathed out, tension evident in your greeting.
‘_-____?’ He said, shock dripping through your name. Even with astonishment tinging your name, it sounded exactly how you wanted it to.
‘I’m sorry for calling, this was stupid.’ You wimp, the brief interaction already overwhelming you.
‘No, no.’ He says, maybe too quickly, ‘It’s uhm,’ Through his pause, you can hear him shuffle, probably stepping away from his desk to concentrate on your voice. ‘It’s nice to hear your voice.’
A sad smile makes its way onto your wine-flushed face. You can hear his breath, slightly laboured, in what you can guess is anxiety. ‘Yeah, it’s nice to hear yours.’
Silence settles, and you open your mouth to speak. Jihoon didn’t rush you — he knew you better than anyone, he knew you picked your words carefully, even two glasses of wine deep, he knew that if you had something meaningful to say, you would get it out eventually. It was a big part of why you loved him, so patient for you, eager to listen to each word that came out of your mouth.
‘I’ You swallow. ‘I guess I just, I just missed you.’ You admit, dread pouring through you.
More silence continued, thunder booming yet again, and it shook you so hard that a squeal slipped out of your mouth.
‘I’m sorry, Jihoon, I shouldn’t have called.’ You say rapidly, embarrassment ripe in your conscience.
’No, uhm,’ He doesn’t say he misses you back; he wanted to tell you when he could see your gorgeous eyes, watch your face in case it twisted into disgust or, preferably, it reddened as you avoided his gaze, as it used to every time he complimented you. ‘What are you doing right now?’
You look down at yourself, your sleeping shorts and oversized jumper swallowing your figure, your room empty and pretty fucking sad looking on this stormy night. ‘Nothing.’
‘Let’s meet at The Mono, in say,’ a momentary silence ensues, ‘thirty minutes?’
Anxiety surged through you — this was supposed to be a drunken phone call, a spout of silliness to relieve your sadness. But here you were, agreeing without an ounce of reluctance. ‘I’ll be there.’
From there, the most chaotic thirty minutes of your life began. You slipped your pyjamas off and tore your wardrobe apart, trying on revealing dresses, too much skin, casual jeans, too laid back, and eventually settling on a pair of trousers and a shirt. Applying your makeup and trying to fluff your hair, you spied your appearance in the vanity, the light in your eyes flickering as you sprayed on perfume.
As you rushed out, you spied your car keys in the bowl. And then you remembered how you’d gotten yourself here. Red wine.
Through the whirlwind of getting ready, the storm raging outside had slipped your mind, and as you opened the front door, the wind hit you instantly. Then the sound of the rain battering the street. And finally, the boom and crackle of thunder and lightning.
Slowly, you eyed the wet street and turned to the umbrella by the door. It couldn’t be that bad right?
Wrong. By the time you’d made it halfway, your umbrella had snapped in two places, the rain drenching your styled hair and soaking through your shoes. How embarrassing, you thought. What is Jihoon possibly going to think?
It was too late to turn back. He’d be on his way; in fact, he was probably already there, your drink that he had preordered sat on the table as his fingers tapped his own glass.
Persisting, you fought the weather, and the soft light of the bar appeared in your view. The awning was rattling in the strong wind, and the street around was almost completely abandoned.
Mustering a light jog, you made it under the very shaky cover and tried to ruffle the rain out of your hair and pat your face dry. Imagining your appearance must be ghastly to any passersby, let alone your ex, who will probably presume you’ve gone crazy.
The bar hadn’t changed in the months of your absence: same vintage wallpaper, same low humming music and in your effort to appear nonchalant, you took a brief look around before leaning on the bar to order.
You actually couldn’t see Jihoon anywhere. The table that he always made you sit at painfully abandoned. The thoughts in your head raced. Was this all to make a fool out of you? It’s not like you to be nervous, in fact, you’d deny the emotion — just burn me at the stake, you thought.
The bar was busy on one side, with a group of men bantering and chattering whilst you stayed firmly glued to the opposite side, inspecting the menu like it was going to change your order. Absentmindedly shaking your wet hair and trying really hard to ignore the squelching in your shoes.
‘Hey, lovely lady.’ A man had broken off from his rowdy group to lean on the bar a bit too close to you, making you lean back slightly, using your arm to brace yourself against the stool.
‘Hi?’ You smiled politely, holding the menu close to your chest as if it could protect you from this man’s lingering glances — not the ones Jihoon used to give you that made you feel warm and fuzzy, the man’s gaze made you feel like prey under a predator’s watchful eye.
‘What’s your name, pretty?’ He continued to flirt as the bell rang, the storm slipping in as the front door was opened and briskly shut.
‘______.’ There it was. That voice. The gorgeous roughness and deep reverberation.
You turned to your ex-boyfriend, who looked perfect despite the storm quite literally battering you outside. His hair is dyed back to black, and it has grown long enough to surpass his shoulders slightly. The dress shirt he had on was slightly too long, yet it hugged his muscles tightly as his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the scene in front of him.
A displeased scowl was cemented to his face. And, as he meets your eyes for the first time, he can’t take a moment to appreciate their beauty, as you’re doing that — thing. The thing that screams help me please! and before he can even consider his actions, he’s stalking over to you and sliding his arm around your waist.
Electricity jolted through you at his touch, his arm exactly where it lived months ago. It sent subtle shivers down your spine, his scent consuming you, his body pressed against yours. Jihoon had a shit-eating grin on his face as he cocked his head sideways, the man almost scuttling away.
Your ex watched closely as the man returned to his friends, not faltering as he ordered both of your drinks and walked you over to your signature table. Finally letting go of your waist as you sat down and walking back to the bar to retrieve your drinks.
As you eyed your ex-boyfriend’s back, the ghost of his arm tingling the skin on your waist, your mind raced. What the fuck is going on?
But before you can jump into the pit you’d dug in your head, Jihoon is back in front of you, placing your drinks down carefully and settling across from you.
This time you actually take time to appreciate the small changes, his hair brushing his shoulders and framing his face perfectly, his arms only slightly more buff than before, but of course you’d notice, his eyes weren’t as warm as they used to be, but you could see the ice melting behind them.
‘Why is your hair wet?’ Is the first thing he says, and you stare at him with a shocked expression.
‘Oh,’ You reached up to shake it, rain still dripping out of it.
‘Sorry,’ he apologised awkwardly, running his fingers through the condensation on his glass. ‘I mean, leaving the house with wet hair will make you sick.’
Of course, he’s just concerned. Typical Jihoon, too vigilant and caring.
‘I walked here.’ You reply, refusing to meet his gaze.
‘You — walked?’ He said in disbelief, looking out of the window and then back to you. ‘In that?’
The rain now pattered the window harshly, the streetlight illuminating the trees being blown aggressively in the wind.
‘I’ve already had a glass,’ you explained sheepishly, ‘for, you know, nerves.’
Jihoon nods, muttering, ‘I would’ve come and picked you up.’
‘Huh?’ You ask, not quite catching his words. The awkward tension slipped back in after the display of affection that made you miss his arms even more.
‘I would’ve picked you up,’ he repeated gingerly, meeting your eyes. The contact makes your heart race, and you smile at him.
‘I couldn’t have made you do that.’ You say tightly, attempting not to put all of your cards on the table yet.
‘I would’ve,’ He said, crossing his arms. ‘Anyday.’
Blush creeps up your cheeks in pinkish splotches, and Jihoon practically lathered himself in the sight. However, his gaze felt heavy on you, the intentions behind this meeting cloudy.
‘What are we doing here, Jihoon?’ That’s it. That conviction you have. The one that you’d use when you were so frustrated and amping up to a breaking point. Ready to snap with sharpness. Jihoon used to think that tone was a lot worse than anytime you’d shout — so reserved but layered with emotion.
‘I,’ Jihoon doesn’t know how to say it, how to let the last month come crumbling down. He looks anywhere but at you, the painting above your head, your nails tapping the table nervously. But, when he catches your face, you’re looking at him attentively with an ounce of nervous apprehension in your eyes.
But the sight of you. Your complexion so smooth, your body curved in ways only he knows about, the quirk of your eyebrow when he begins to speak.
‘I shouldn’t have called Jihoon. I’m sorry.’ You look down, feeling your eyes begin to well up, gathering your bag and scraping the chair against the wooden floor.
‘I miss you too.’
You froze, like a deer in headlights. Your body rigid as you stood above him, he looked so small like this, so exposed as he looked up at you, his eyes scanning yours for something, anything.
‘What?’ You said instinctively, shocked at his confession. So many emotions seeping through you that you can’t quite decipher how you feel about it. You plop back down in front of him. ‘Like, actually miss me, not in a friend way?’
You’re overthinking, but it’s okay. Jihoon, the man who swore you’d marry and raise children with, right there, at the door to your life, knocking to get in.
‘_____,’ He cracks a small smile, the type that exposes his dimples and makes his chocolate eyes turn to gorgeous crescents. ‘I miss you.’
That was all the clarification you needed — to answer the knocking and swing the door wide open.
Your eyes swell with tears, and you feel mildly embarrassed that you’re crying in front of him as well as the entire bar, who haven’t batted an eye at you. Without further hesitation, you rapidly made your way around the table, crouching down next to him to hide your teary eyes and look at him.
His eyes were glassy as he reached up slowly, his hands shaking slightly as he touched your face and wiped your tears. You felt just the way he remembered, your skin smooth, your eyelashes soft yet tickling as he brushed them dry.
‘I don’t want to have an audience when I kiss you.’ He admitted, not daring to look away from your eyes.
Without further ado, you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the bar in a hurry. The door slams behind you as the cold wind whips at the two of you, the rain already beginning to penetrate your just drying clothes.
Wordlessly, his hands found their place on your waist as he pulled you effortlessly flush against him, the rain dampening his hair as you both stared at each other, your hands slotting back on his neck.
Sparks erupt as his tether snaps, and he passionately kisses your lips, the feeling all-consuming and sending adrenaline through you both. Your lips were exactly the way he remembered them, even imagined over the last month, and he savours the lip gloss that he used to complain about.
The storm continued to rage on around you, both of you completely soaked through, yet you couldn’t care less; especially as his tongue found its way into your mouth, tasting the sweet cocktail he bought for you, your fingers running through his wet hair.
With a coy smile on your face, you pulled away, Jihoon resting his head against yours with an identical expression.
‘Don’t think we don’t have a lot to talk about.’ You say, lathering in the feeling of him against you again.
‘Trust me, I know.’ He replies, ‘But I don’t want to lose you, lose this again.’
‘Let’s try,’ You say, enveloping your fingers with his. ‘Harder this time.’
It was Jihoon’s turn for his eyes to well up as he nodded curtly, an appreciative smile dressing his face.
‘Do you want to come home with me?’ He asked, he knew you hated your house on nights like this, and the thought of parting ways, even overnight, made his heart pang.
‘I thought you’d never ask.’ You reply with a humorous tone, as Jihoon shakes his hair, further wetting you in the storm. ‘Hey!’
You push him away to shield yourself from the extra spray, and he follows, continuing to try to soak you further.
With a squeal, you run, but he’s using his strong arms to sweep you up again, bridal style.
‘Jihoon!’ You whine, pushing your head into his firm chest. ‘I’m already wet through!’
He chuckles, treasuring the feeling of you back in his arms, swearing to himself he’ll carry you like this forever if it means you’re his again.
‘Well, looks like we both need to change.’ He winks at you and begins to walk back to his car, trying his best to shield you from the storm that has already ransacked you.
‘Get me out of these clothes.’ You emphasise each word, trying to joke but knowing it was exactly what Jihoon intended to do.
Characters/Pairing: Lee Jihoon (Woozi) x GN!Reader
Genre: Smut, porn without plot
AU/Trope Info: Idol!AU, Established relationship
Word Count: 233
Warnings: Semi-public sex, use of the nickname 'baby', praise, oral (m receiving)
Rating: 18+
A/N: I'm reuploading my own work, I did not plagiarize.
"Oh, yeah, baby, just like that-" Jihoon groans as he throws his head back in pleasure, the feeling of your warm, wet mouth around his cock driving him insane. He closes his eyes, biting down on his lip as he starts with a moan and ends with a whine, he runs his fingers through your hair, grabs at the roots and holds it there, bucking his hips up from the chair, fucking your face.
He drapes his other arm over his eyes, more moans spilling from his pillow lips as he bucks his hips faster. You moan at the harshness of the tip of his dick massaging your throat, hollowing your cheeks out as you suck harder. The tip of your tongue swirling around his tip when you come up.
"Oh- shit-! Fuck, I'm gonna cum-" He says, the pitch of his voice getting higher as his thrusts get more aggressive. His arm drops to his side, his head popping up with his frantic eyes wide open to make eye-contact with you. The intensity of his stare only made you suck harder, his high-pitched whines and pretty fuck-out face shoots heat into the pit of your stomach.
His eyebrows furrow as his hair sticks to his forehead, with one final thrust he pushes your head closer to his crotch, his shaft stilling in your throat as he shoots his hot load down it.
Genre: Romantic Comedy, Strangers to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Fake Dating, Smut (not in this part) MDNI!
Synopsis: After breaking off your engagement to your cheating fiancé, you decide to take the planned trip to Paris anyway. A vacation alone with the honeymoon suite all to yourself seems like the perfect distraction. Just that, due to an internal error at the hotel lost soul Jihoon, who still isn't over his first love's death five years ago, is staying in the same honeymoon suite as you.
Warnings (in this part): mentions of cheating, alcohol consumption, angst, probably a not so good description of paris tbh, the word "cock" is mentioned once, slight sexual tension
Word Count: 7.9k
A/N: hi everyone!! this is part one of my story for the world tour collab hostes by @svthub!! check out the masterlist here! this one is a bit of a... beginning, i guess, lol. the real drama and smut and all that will be in part two. but i still think this is a a fun part to get to know our characters! this not beta read and i might edit it later... thanks for reading i hope you enjoy <3 header & divider credit to @okiedokrie!
one; the author
The flash of the camera goes off and you’re almost sure your eyes were closed. The teenage girl next to you smiles brightly and waves at you once more before rushing off to go over to her mother. You lightly smile back and look over to your right where Minghao is giving you a thumbs up. Apparently, so you interpret his gesture, you’re holding up quite well for someone who just caught her fiancée cheating two weeks ago.
You’re aware that you could have canceled the book signing today. No one would have been mad. But even though your heart is shattered to a million pieces and you don’t think you’ll ever heal from this hurt - you still need to earn money and make those who give you that money happy. Just sucks that the person you build this with is somewhere on the Bahamas with your biggest rival on the romance book market. Or, well, as your publisher says: your bestest friend on the romance book market. Since you’re both making money, of course. You can’t count the times you and her have been sent to events together, not saying a word to each other on the way there and playing happy family the second you are in front of the cameras.
Her books weren’t even good! Boring and predictable if anyone asked you. Your ex had always agreed with you, even if he was her agent as well as yours. But Jaehyun was slick - he told her the same about your books.
“Hi, oh my god, I love your books so much! I can’t wait for the next one!” It’s a boy with the brightest and whitest smile you have ever seen and for a second you can forget your sadness.
“Thank you so much. What name do you want me to sign?”
The book signing ends about half an hour later. You’re in the car with Minghao who’s typing something on his phone as he sits in the backseat with you.
“You did great, you know.” He says, not looking up. His words make your stomach turn uncomfortably even though you know he means well.
“Thanks,” is your mumbled response, your head slowly turning to look out of the window. Minghao sets down his phone, realizing his words didn’t come out the way he wanted them to. He sighs.
“Best friend dearest,” he starts, “you know what I meant. Considering you have been in your room with no lights on and Adele on repeat for the last few months - you did exceptionally well socializing with people you don’t know.”
“It’s my job after all, isn’t it?”
“No, your job is writing brilliant books, Y/N. This is just a bonus. Your books would sell wonderfully even without you doing this.”
Three months ago this would have made your chest fill with pride. You’d be beaming and agreeing with Minghao, content with your life and what you had made it to be. But now, it’s different.
Now, all you feel is ache in your chest. No sense of pride, no smile in sight. No contentment with how your life is going. Joy has been missing in your palette of feelings for a long time.
The city lights are what keep you awake. Exhaustion and the feeling of sadness that you have become so used to are close to make you falter, to make you want to go home and put those Adele songs right back on repeat. It’s not fair, you think. Not fair that your life was ruined this way and you can’t get back up. That all you’re able to do is live because you have to, not because you want to. And the closer July 17th comes - the more you feel yourself falling deeper into a hole.
It’s hard to believe that three months ago you were a completely different person. A person who loved to laugh, who had fun game nights with her friends, cooked every day, went for runs in the morning, planned a wedding. You were a person who loved to love. All of this was accompanied by the person you had been sure you’d spend the rest of your life with: Jaehyun. He was tall, handsome, kind. You had met him through work - he had been assigned your agent when you switched publishers. He was your muse. Helped you with your books, made the sales sky rocket with the way he marketed you.
For five years he was your everything. In some ways (ways you loathed) he still is. Your whole life revolved around him. Wherever you went - he did too. Whenever you fell - he was there to catch you. Nothing in the world could have ever prepared you for what was going to happen. But then again, when is someone ever prepared to be cheated on by the person they trusted the most in their life?
To say it was a shock would be an understatement. Accidentally finding the messages he sent to her on his iPad. Confronting him and seeing his face fall, his expressions change into something you had never thought possible. He looked caught. Mainly because he was. Also because he never thought the truth would come to light. You had been the only one left in the dark. Everyone at the publishing house knew what he was doing. He and her.
It wasn’t fair, you knew that, but in the beginning you couldn’t handle being mad at Jaehyun. Instead you focused all your anger on her, all the hurt you felt. It wasn’t like you had particularly liked her before - she was your rival, the person everyone always compared you to. She was younger than you, didn’t have as much experience - but she was more successful. At least to an extent. Her books regularly went viral on ‘booktok’, mainly because she wrote them like she worked in a factory. Every couple of months there’d be a new one - and people ate it up. You, on the other hand, liked to take your time, liked to write stories with captivating characters, with characters people could relate to - fall in love with.
Suddenly your biggest rival became the person you hated and wanted to be like the most in the world. To be her would mean to have him. Him, who you still love so much, who still means everything.
It is a little different now. 100 days later and you feel like you don’t love him as much anymore. Yes, it still hurts like hell and, yes, you want to stay home most of the days. But you don’t miss him as much as you used to.
“Do you want to grab a drink?” Minghao asks now even though he already knows the answer. Gosh, you wish you could give him a yes. A smile and a yes. Instead, you only present him with the first, stretching out your hand and reaching for his.
“I need to get home, Hao. Today has been a lot.”
Minghao nods slowly, a sad smile on his pretty lips. He understands, he really does. But he also misses his happy best friend. Misses the way your eyes crinkle when you smile wholeheartedly , misses the sound of you honest laugh. No matter how many time will pass, he doesn’t think he could ever forgive Jaehyun for what he’s done to you.
Fighting with a french man on the phone at the crack of dawn surely had not been on your agenda for today.
“I’m sorry, miss, but the cancellation period ended two weeks ago, there is nothing we can do.”
It’s too early and you are too tired. He is probably too by now, considering he has been saying this sentence at least five times in the past seven minutes. You pull a hand through your hair and let it drop back onto the mattress after.
“My wedding isn’t happening anymore, and you really won’t let me cancel the honeymoon suite?” Usually, you’d never snap at anyone over the phone - especially custom service personnel, but this is different. What he’s implying means you won’t get any money back from one of the most expensive purchases you’ve made. Worst thing about this: you paid for this yourself. Jaehyun had paid the location - which of course could still be canceled. But the freaking hotel stay in Paris of course was set in stone!
“I am very sorry, miss. I wish there was more that I could do. Perhaps you can take the trip yourself and enjoy our beautiful honeymoon sui-“
You hang up on him. It’s not polite, you’re aware. But just the thought of being alone in the suite you were supposed to enjoy with your freshly baked husband… no, absolutely not. Then, fine, you’d have to live with having spent thousands of dollars on a hotel suite you wouldn’t be able to use.
As if life isn’t horrible enough already.
When you sit at brunch later that day with Minghao and your mutual friend Mingyu, they both stare at you like you’ve just told them you decided to get Jaehyun’s face tattooed on your thigh.
“Are you kidding me? You basically get to have a Paris vacation for free for yourself!” Mingyu says, the glass of mimosa he is holding in his hand is almost spilling with the way he moves his arm. You scoff.
“What do you mean “free”? I literally paid for it months ago!”
“Okay, and did you already make that money back?” Mingyu continues and raises his brow. You stay silent for a moment.
The restaurant Minghao chose is filled with people enjoying the vegan food made from scratch. Your own very delicious avocado toast with a side of fresh fruit and soy-yogurt is laying in front of you, waiting to be eaten. The mimosa Minghao had ordered for you remains untouched.
“She has.” Hao decides to answer for you as he sips from his mug of matcha. You shoot him a glare.
“So what! I’m not going to go to Paris by myself when this was supposed to be my honeymoon!” You try to stay quiet, looking from Minghao to Mingyu and back. Judging by their faces, they don’t seem to understand the big deal.
You envy them. God, how much you wish you could just do it. Go on that already paid for vacation by yourself, not give a single damn about Jaehyun and his new girlfriend. Your heart sinks. Just thinking these words is making you feel like crawling back into bed.
Minghao groans and puts his mug back on the table.
“Y/N,” he starts and his voice sounds more serious than you’ve ever heard him talk before - even Mingyu seems startled, “I get it, okay? I get that he hurt you, that he made you believe in something that was never going to work. He is an asshole, if not the biggest asshole walking freely on this earth. But you’re young! You’re young and you deserve better than this! Keeping to yourself, barely leaving your apartment - your bed, honey, it’s not good for you. I understand that you want to stay away, that the world is a fucking scary place without the person you thought was your person right there next to you,” he grabs your hand over the table, “but do you know what all of this means? That your person is still out there! That you can still find them! And what better place to start than Paris, the literal city of love!”
He means well. Just like the other night after the book signing. He means well and he wants just what’s best for you. No one wants you to feel better as much as he does. Then why does it make you so mad that he is asking this of you? That he is calling you out this way?
You pull your hand away from his and grab your purse from the free chair next to yours. Both men gawk at you, startled.
“Y/N-,” Mingyu tries, but you raise your hand to interrupt him.
“You get it, Hao? Really? Has your significant other of five years also cheated on you with your biggest rival? Did you also have to cancel a wedding you put hours and hours of work and money into? Because I don’t remember this happening to you! So, I would really appreciate it if you gave me the time I need to grieve this relationship and decide for myself when I am ready to get out again!”
Without giving them another look, you storm out of the restaurant. Everything around you is a blurr and you only notice that you’re crying when you reach your car. Cursing to yourself, you move to open your car, tears dripping from your cheeks down onto your shirt. God, what a pathetic little woman. Crying in your car after yelling at your best friends for what? For caring? For only meaning to help?
It takes a while before you manage to start the engine and get on the road to drive home. The radio is silent and for a second you wished you could turn off your brain the same way. Just one switch and all thoughts gone. All the self doubts and the hurt, all the thoughts of what-if and the wish to travel back in time and never have you take his iPad.
You stop at a red light and wipe away some more tears. You don’t dare to look into the mirror and check your make-up.
Never finding the iPad, you circle back, if you had never found it, you wouldn’t be in this situation. No, you’d most likely still be in a relationship with a man that cheated on you. That didn’t love you half as much as he claimed, that didn’t deserve the time and care you’d given him.
When the light turns green, you continue your way, your thoughts still roaming around the what if. And while your heart yearns for him back, for what you believed you had - your head knows it’s better this way. Jaehyun isn’t the one for you, as much as you would have loved him to be, Minghao is right. It’s just that the thought of starting over with someone new makes you cringe, makes fear rise within you. Someone new to give your heart to and hope they don’t break it the way Jae had.
Once you’re on the highway you think back about the time you had decided to travel to Paris for your honeymoon. It had been your idea, your wish. Your first ever book, even if it never made it onto a bestseller list or into the mouths of the best romance critics - it was set in Paris. The city of live, the city you decided would become your favorite even though you had never been. Spending two weeks there with the love of your life after becoming his forever, seriously, nothing had ever sounded as wonderful as that.
Minghao’s words ring in your ear. Your person is still out there, he said. And that Paris, as the city of love, would be the perfect place to go look for them. Your knuckles turn white around the steering wheel. You never wanted to spend time in Paris with anyone but Jaehyun.
Or maybe, you think as you take the exit leading to your neighborhood, the only Person you need to spend time with in Paris is yourself.
two; the lost soul
He never should have listened to Jeonghan. No one should ever listen to Jeonghan. The cab driver is speaking in quick french that Jihoon knows he wouldn’t understand even if he spelled out every word for him. Then again, he isn’t even sure the driver is talking to him or just about him. Jihoon can’t really blame him. After all, he is the stupid American with the stupid big guitar case and a backpack almost bigger than himself.
The backseat is hot and Jihoon’s sunglasses do little to keep the sun from blinding him.
Paris in the summer sounded better on paper than it does actually experiencing it. It’s nothing compared to the summer in Arizona, where Jihoon grew up, but having lived in Vermont for a while now, he wasn’t used to the burning hot, scorching sun that threatened to give him the sunburn of his life if he didn’t re-apply his sunscreen every few hours.
Tara had always laughed at him and his easily burned skin. She never burned, no, she got a tan right away, looking beautiful in the rays of sunshine dazzling on her skin like they belonged there.
Right now, he misses her more than he has in a while. When he passes the beautiful architecture of his first love’s favorite city, he smiles even with the sun shining directly into his eyes.
In all seriousness, Jihoon doesn’t know why he is here. It feels wrong to be here without her, but it also felt like he had to take the invitation from his friend. She would have never forgiven him, if he let this opportunity fly. Visit the city of love, the city she had always dreamt about, he knows as wrong as it feels, it’s the right thing to do.
A few minutes later, the cab stops in front of an old looking building. Without saying anything, the driver takes Jihoon’s Euros and drives off after heaving Jihoon’s suitcase out of his trunk.
Jihoon looks after the car, his dark hair falling into his forehead. Once the cab takes the next corner, he looks at the building, something stirring in his stomach. This… doesn’t look like the pictures on AirBnb at all. Quickly, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, happy he booked the data package at the airport back home. Opening his app, he feels like he’s about to throw up his airplane food.
It’s not there. The apartment is gone from the app, not newly put in under a different name, not just gone because of a glitch. It’s like it never existed. Jihoon curses, moving his fingers over his screen, calling the customer service only to be met with a french speaking automatic voice that doesn’t help him in the slightest.
Hanging up again, he stares at his phone for a few seconds. He shouldn’t have come. It feels too much like a sign. Maybe he should try changing his flight to this evening, maybe he should try to run after that cab and-
The phone in his hands rings and he quickly picks up.
“Hello?”
“Jihoonie!” It’s Jeonghan, the only reason he is in Paris in the first place, “did you make it to the city of love?”
“Yeah, and I wish I didn’t,” Jihoon mumbles in response, brushing his hair out of his face.
“Why? What happened?” Jeonghan does sound concerned, which might be a first.
“My Airbnb doesn’t exist.”
Silence. Jihoon just knows his friend is trying his hardest not to laugh. Oh, to be Yoon Jeonghann and always get entertained by his friends’ miseries.
“Jeonghan, this isn’t funny, okay? I’m about to call another cab and get my ass back home.”
“No! No, you can’t go home! You’re here and I’m going to make sure these will be two of the most amazing weeks of your life, alright? Look, instead of home, get your ass to my hotel. I think I might have a solution for your problem.”
When Jeonghan texts him the address and Jihoon hails another cab, he doesn’t dare to hope that his friend has an actual solution.
Perhaps Jihoon should have asked Jeonghan more thoroughly what kind of Hotel he works at. Because this looks very different to the building Jihoon just left. This is art, this is a fancy hotel in the middle of Paris’ most elegant streets, people in expensive clothes walking around Jihoon who has only a backpack and a guitar on his back. Jihoon gapes at the building, words he has read a million times suddenly filling his head, suddenly coming to life.
The façade of the hotel stands proudly on the bustling Parisian street, an exquisite testament to classical elegance and modern charm. The building’s cream-colored stonework is adorned with intricate carvings and ornate embellishments, each detail meticulously crafted to perfection. Above the entrance, a grand arch frames a large window, its glass shimmering in the soft light of the early evening.
Striped blue-and-white awnings shade the windows, their cheerful colors contrasting beautifully with the building’s stately architecture. Delicate wrought-iron balconies extend from the upper floors, offering glimpses of lush potted plants and inviting chairs, perfect for an intimate evening under the stars.
The entrance is framed by deep blue columns, and a passageway, warm light spills out from within, hinting at the luxurious interior that awaits guests. A pair of elegant lanterns flank the doorway, casting a gentle glow on the stone steps below.
Above the entrance, a crest adorned with elaborate scrollwork and a regal shield stands as a proud emblem of the hotel’s storied history. The name of the hotel is etched in graceful letters, a promise of the enchanting experience that lies within.
He doesn’t dare to move from where he is standing. Doesn’t dare to step foot into the hotel that looks exactly the way he had envisioned the one Tara would always read to him. Goosebumps erupt all over his skin and he swears there are tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. This must be a dream, a different reality, because there is no way Jeonghan works here.
But when Jihoon lets his eyes wander over the façade and into one of the magnificent windows - he spots his friend. Spots him on the phone behind the wooden counter, writing something down. He is here and this is real.
So, Jihoon slowly moves. One foot before the other, eyes glued to the entrance, nis heart beating in his chest. He feels silly, but he wonders if Tara had seen this as clear as he had back when she had read the book to him over and over again.
A welcome warmth meets Jihoon inside. It’s just as beautiful as the outside, he finds, his stomach turning over once more.
The lobby exudes a warm, inviting glow, courtesy of the golden chandeliers that hang from the high ceilings, casting a soft light over the polished marble floors. Rich hues of deep blue and soft gold dominate the color palette, creating a sense of opulence and sophistication. Jeonghan stands behind the mahogany desk, still talking on the phone, still not spotting Jihoon.
Jihoon, who feels so insanely out of place in his worn out jeans and the old leather jacket, with his hair unkempt and his eyebrow pierced. He moves over to the front desk, trying his hardest not to care about the stares he is getting from the people who clearly know he doesn’t actually belong here.
Jeonghan’s eyes light up when he sees him, a wide smile now on his lips as he holds up a finger as if to tell Jihoon to just be a little more patient. Jihoon carefully puts his hands on the top of the counter, his eyes roaming the lobby again.
“Of course, we can’t wait to have you back here again so soon, Miss Jones. Have a great day, bye bye!”
Jihoon’s eyes fly over to Jeonghan again when he hears the phone click.
“You’re actually here!” Jeonghan’s smile grows and he moves forward to give Jihoon probably the most awkward hug of his life over the counter. Jihoon laughs at that, patting his friend on the back.
“Well, it’s either this or the streets,” he smiles, “you never told me how… grant all of this is.” He gestures with his hands, as if to make sure Jeonghan knows he means the hotel. His blonde haired friend chuckles.
“Yeah, I thought it would come off like bragging if I did say so. I never would have heard the end of it from the boys.”
Jihoon nods. He knows exactly what Jeonghan means. Still. He can’t shake the feeling that if he had known about this… his stomach drops again.
“It’s beautiful.” Is all he eventually says, ignoring the worried look of his friend. Jihoon doesn’t know (and Jeonghan will never tell him) but there was a reason he had never mentioned this to him.
“That, it is,” Jeonghan finally responds, wiping the worry off his face and replacing it with a broad smile, “and you will get to live here for the next two weeks!”
“I will what?!” Jihoon’s eyes widen in surprise, “Jeonghan, I can barely pay rent at home, what do you-,”
“Obviously for free, dummy,” Jeonghan chuckles, “we have a free suite that has already been paid for, full price.”
Jihoon raises his brows, his hands feeling damp on top of the fancy counter.
“How come it’s free when it’s fully paid?” He asks.
“Well, there was supposed to be a wedding and…. now there isn’t one. They didn’t meet the requirements for the full or the partial refund. So, it’s free for the next two weeks since we can’t legally double book. You want it?”
It feels a little bit too good to be true, but Jihoon is in no place to turn down Jeonghan’s offer. The little voice in his head is trying to get to him, trying to make him speak the words to himself. It tries to get him to admit that this feels a lot like fate. Like a sign from above, from Tara. He doesn’t let it get to him. He’s not ready for that, and he’s certainly not melancholic enough for thoughts like this - even as a songwriter.
“I do, thank you, Han, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you right now.”
“Oh, most certainly sleep on the streets. Find a rat for a friend, or maybe a pigeon. They are crazy over here,” Jeonghan sings as he types something in the computer, scanning one of the key cards he takes from the drawer beneath him. Jihoon watches him with his heartbeat in his ears.
“Yeah, never been a big fan of rats. Or pigeons.” Jihoon dares to look around the lobby again, seeing all those people living their life, probably never worried about any of the things he worries about. He wasn’t lying when he said he has trouble paying his rent. Work hasn’t been easy these days.
“Aaaaand, here we go!” Jeonghan grins brightly, “your key, Mr. Lee.” He holds it mid air, pulling it back slightly as Jihoon is trying to grab it. The latter gives him a funny look. Jeonghan pouts as he thinks.
“That rhymes. “Your key, Mr. Lee”.” Jihoon closes his eyes for a second. Jeonghan chuckles happily.
“Watch out, I’m coming for your job.”
“Well, stop it and do yours instead,” Jihoon replies, allowing himself to grin back at his friend and take the card from his hands, “where is this suite you promised me?”
-
Jeonghan hadn’t mentioned what kind of suite this is. There is nothing Jihoon can do but stare at his surroundings with his mouth and backpack dropped, his guitar slowly sliding down his arm.
He is in the honeymoon suite. In retrospect, it makes sense. Jeonghan did say a wedding had been canceled.
There are three rooms. Right now, Jihoon is standing in the enormous entrance way. Golden and blue like downstairs, with wood accents, a big round table in the center of the room that connected all the different rooms, a centerpiece of flowers as beautiful as a summer day adjoining it. The walls are high and plastered with fine drawing, ornating through all of the hallway and over to the other rooms. Flowers and patterns so elegant Jihoon doesn’t know how to even describe them.
He feels out of place as much as he feels content. Letting his luggage rest on the floor, he moves into the first room. It’s a large sitting room, probably as big as his whole apartment back at home. Two couches of rich dark blue; cushions in different colors, some of them reminding Jihoon of the ocean, some of the sky, rich blues and light blues, and then there is the color of dawn, orange and yellow.
A majestic cremé colored carpet lays beneath the sofas, a glass table standing between them. On top of it magazine stacks and a glass tray holding what looks like whiskey and two glasses. High windows let the sun shine through and Jihoon spots a balcony leading around the living- and bedroom, holding his breath as he imagines himself out there softly strumming his guitar with a glass of whiskey or wine. His heart warms at the thought of finally having peace. Peace in the city his former lover had loved so much.
Next up he walks into the bedroom, a king sized bed greets him with white linen covers and pillows almost as big as his torso. It looks incredibly comfortable and he couldn’t wait to lay down and relax after the day he’s had. Golden curtains sway in the wind let in by an opened window, and the view is so poetic he almost feels himself tear up. Quickly, he looks away and instead finds his way into the master bathroom. It’s all held in gold as well, gold and white for a change, an enormous tub next to a high rain shower behind a glass wall. He sighs.
This is perfect. And he most definitely needs a shower right now.
So, he retraces his steps and grabs his luggage, setting everything down next to the bed and letting his guitar rest in the corner of the room. He decides to actually unpack his backpack that probably doesn’t even hold as much clothes as he probably needs for this trip (he did think he had a washer, though) and places everything in the large closet opposite the bed.
Finding himself humming, Jihoon allows a little bit more of that earlier peace to find place in his head and heart. Perhaps there is no reason for him to be worried - to look for something to go terribly wrong on this trip. Jeonghan is off work by now, and they’ll go catch dinner together, then he’ll come back here and maybe watch a movie, fall asleep to the sound of Paris outside his window. He doesn’t know what it sounds like just yet, but he’s already excited to find out.
Ridding himself of his clothes and feeling another threat of tears when he touches the towels hanging in the bathroom, Jihoon finally lets himself step into the shower and wash all of his worries away.
three; the mix-up
You don’t think your heart has ever beaten as fast as it does when you walk out the Charles de Gaulle airport and right into the arms of the driver Minghao has arranged for you. It’s not about the driver or the airport - but where you are.
Paris, the city of love, the city you feared to visit after what had happened with Jae. Yet, here you stand. Handing the driver your luggage and fishing for your phone in your purse, texting Minghao you already found your driver and are now on the way to the hotel. It all feels surreal and like you’re going to wake up any second.
Minghao forgave you without hesitation. Hugged you close to his chest and cried with you as you told him you were sorry and that he was right. You needed to do this - needed to face your demons. Together, the two of you had finalized the plans, popping open a bottle of expensive champagne and gossiping about Jaehyun and who he left you for. Little by little, you knew, you would find yourself again. And perhaps Paris was the perfect way to start.
The drive from the airport to the hotel was spent staring out the window. First you saw the highway leading from the airport to the city - greenery with trees on each side, all passing by you in a blurr. And then the beautiful streets of Paris. The fine architecture, the elegant bridges over the Seine. Heart warming at the sight of the city you dreamt about so much. Your first ever book had taken place right here, you had let your main characters kiss for the first time right there on that bridge leading from one side of Paris to the other, so close to the Louvre, to the glass pyramid you made them fight and make up all the same, just months apart. The sun is dazzling onto the dark water of the river, light dancing on the surface.
The driver comes to a stop in front of the hotel about 45 minutes after your departure from Charles de Gaulle. He holds open the door for you and helps you out of the car, smiling at you warmly and finally getting your bags out of the trunk. You thank him in some broken French and he nods at you before finding his way back to the driver’s seat.
One of the bell-boys spot you right when you walk in, their English sounding a bit like your French just now. You thank them and hand over your luggage, letting them help you carry it to the mahogany reception.
It is exactly like you remember it. You had never seen it in person, no. But you’ve found this hotel during your research, falling in love with it right away. It was a no-brainer that your honeymoon was to be held here.
You felt overwhelmed at the sight of the colors you had tried so hard to bring to paper, at the sound of soft music in the background, at the knowledge this was real and you were gonna stay here for two whole weeks.
Finally, you reach the counter where a small man stands and smiles up at you, his hair styled back.
“Welcome, how can I help you?” He says in perfect English and you place your hands on top of the counter.
“Hi,” you tell him your name, “I have a reservation.”
The man nods, looking up the reservation and finding it right away. Not marked as checked in, he notes and gives you another big smile.
“It is wonderful to have you, Miss. Will your husband be joining you?”
You expected as much. While it does hurt a little, having to say these next words, you know it’s a step in the right direction.
“I will be staying here alone, thank you.”
It is more beautiful than you could have imagined and it takes you a whole lot not to start crying. Your luggage gets brought up by the nice bell-boys and you thank them by tipping them each 50 Euros. Their smiles make the loss of the money worthwhile.
Once the door closes behind them, you dare to look around. See the beautiful entrance way in all its glory. See the living room in all it’s elegance, the high ceiling and windows, the smaller bedroom with a queen sized bed and a little reading nook, two ceiling high bookshelves standing around a comfortable looking loveseat. This must be what heaven looks like.
There is nothing that can wipe that smile off your face. Everything inside you tingles with happy excitement, moving to go look at the master bedroom with the on-suite bathroom you remembered staring at for at least five minutes when you booked the room. Imagining yourself in the enormous bathtub with a glass of champagne and classical music playing, letting all the stress and hurt from the past months fade away with the notes.
You don’t notice the closet and how there are clothes hanging inside it. Neither do you see the guitar case in the corner of the room. It fascinates you - how your mind tricks you into thinking you already hear the sound of water running, accompanied by humming along to a tune. Magnificent, what the mind can do.
When you finally reach for the doorknob to push it down, yanking the door open in one swift move, you realize perhaps your mind isn’t as magnificent as you thought.
Jihoon doesn’t notice you until you scream. He swirls around, which is inherently a foolish thing to do inside a wet, slippery shower, his eyes widening whe spots you, reacting to your scream by screaming himself. He realizes he’s naked and tries to find something to cover him, taking a step forward to reach for the towel and forgetting there is literally a glass wall separating you two.
Watching the man walk face-first into the glass and stumbling back, slipping on the wet floors and falling onto his ass would have made you laugh if it wasn’t inside your shower.
“What the hell!” You yell, turning around so you don’t look at the naked man any longer.
“Who are you?!” He yells back and you almost gasp.
“I should ask you that!”
The two of you need to yell because Jihoon has not yet managed to turn the shower off. Only now does he (while rubbing his hurting back) get up, struggling in the process, his hand finding the lever to turn off the water. His nose hurts and his ass and his back.
He moves out of the shower without running into glass this time, and wraps one of the soft towels around his waist.
“I’m Jihoon,” he finally says. You think you’re suddenly stuck in a really bad movie.
“That- you’re telling me your name?!” You turn around again, staring at the stranger with disbelief in your eyes.
“You did ask who I was, didn’t you?”
For a few moments the two of you continue to stare at each other. With every passing second you notice just how naked he is. Yes, there is a towel around him now, but you certainly did not… miss what was under there when you first walked in. As much as you don’t want to, your eyes scan the stranger, or well, Jihoon as he told you, stopping at his wet torso, the defined abs and the broad chest. He might be small in height but the rest of him seems… big.
You swallow.
“If you’re done checking me out, would you mind telling me why you’re in my room?”
Heat spreads through your body and right into your face, your eyes jumping from his torso to his face.
“Your room? I’m sorry, this is my room!”
While Jihoon did hit his head, he isn’t hurt enough not to understand that you’re most likely telling the truth. But Jeonghan had said the wedding was off… that you wouldn’t come here. So, why on earth, where you here?
“I- I can explain,” he begins, taking a step forward only for you to take a step backward. He holds out his hand as if to signal he wasn’t going to do anything.
“Go right ahead,” you hate that your voice is shaking, but it’s not like it is an everyday occurrence you find a beautiful stranger in your hotel room. If this wasn’t your actual life but a book this might have been sexy, might have led to the bed behind you finding the two strangers entangled, giving in to the sexual tension between them. Not that there was any of that in this situation.
“My friend, Jeonghan, he- he works here. He told me this suite wouldn’t be used and so I- well he asked me if I wanted to stay here for my trip after I told him my airbnb didn’t actually exist and I needed a, uh, a place to stay.”
You blink at him.
“He just- he gave you my honeymoon suite for free?
Jihoon swallows.
“Well…,” he thinks a little longer on his answer, “yes. Yes, he did.”
Telling the truth is probably his best bet.
You take a deep breath, turning away from him, clenching and unclenching your hands.
“As you can see, I am here. So, please, find somewhere else to stay.”
Jihoon saw it coming, obviously. It was all too good to be true. Without saying anything else, he walks over to the closet, ready to dress himself. Just that he didn’t quite calculate the new luggage now laying in front of the bed.
It all seems to happen in slow motion.
Jihoon tripping over your suitcase, his hands desperate trying to find something to hold on to before he falls. As if on reflex, you grab his arm, yanking him up so he doesn’t fall flatly on his face, just that you somehow manage to yank him so hard, you fall off balance. With a high pitched squeak, you fall onto the bed, Jihoon landing on top of you, his towel falling off in the process of the fall and save.
A naked man is on top of you, brown eyes wide with shock staring into yours. His hands somehow moved right to the sides of your head as if to catch himself from falling even further on top of you.
You can feel him. Feel his breath on your face, his skin on yours, his friend against your thigh. More heat rises, your face, your neck, your chest, your core. It’s bad. This shouldn’t be happening right now.
The two of you are so engulfed in the moment, you don’t even realize when the door opens yet again. When voices you would normally recognize without trouble seem to fail your ears this time. Jihoon’s face so close to yours - way too distracting.
“What the fuck?!”
Realization hits you at the same time as recognition and you gasp, your knee coming up, right into Jihoon’s lower parts, a yelp escaping him as he slides off the bed, hands now covering his private area and his face in a grimace of sheer pain.
You don’t even notice it. Not really, at least. Now it’s not his face that’s distracting you but the one you used to love for so many years.
“Jaehyun?” You whisper. And for a second you think he came here to make amends, to win you back, to get on his knees and apologize - then you spot her walking in, her eyes scanning the room with distaste.
“Who is that?” Jaehyun asks and you feel your blood boil.
“What are you doing here?” You ignore his question. He isn’t looking at you, but at Jihoon still on the floor.
“Oh, well, you know. We thought that it would be such a waste to let this suite go to waste,” it is her who answers you now, her deep red manicured hands now curling around Jaehyun’s biceps.
This bitch. Your blood starts boiling. Anger makes you see red.
“You brought her here?” You hiss at Jaehyun who has the decency to look guilty at least. You snort. Then, your eyes find Jihoon who’s still on the ground, Jihoon who is still naked. Jihoon, who desperately needs a place to stay.
God knows what makes you do what you do next. Desperation? Foolery? Who knows. But you move to help Jihoon up, grabbing the towel and holding it in front of his lower half.
“Y/N,” Jaehyun starts but you interrupt him.
“I see that we both had the idea to bring our new partners, or in your case old partner, to the suite we booked together, Jae. But since I was the one who paid for it, I would kindly ask you to leave.”
New partner. Jihoon needs a few seconds before he grasps what you just said.
“New- new what?” He mumbles, but you clear your throat to drown out his voice. Jaehyun’s face is priceless and you don’t want the bluff to be uncovered so quickly.
“That is your new boyfriend?” She asks, her brows raised. You can see that she’s checking him out - his abs, his cest, his pretty face. It makes your insides turn with hatred and disgust.
“Got a problem, Sierra?” You reply, your jaw tense. Her eyes only briefly meet yours.
“Oh, absolutely not. I’m glad to see you finally got out of that moping phase, honey. It really didn’t suit you.”
Your grip around the towel tightens.
Slowly, Jihoon begins to understand what is going on. Who these people are. There was supposed to be a wedding and a honeymoon, but neither of these happened. You are the bride, or well, were supposed to be the bride. And he, the man you called Jaehyun and who had caused all the color to fade from your face, surely seems to be the groom who… never got to be the groom. And judging by the way you reacted to him and her, he guesses the reason the wedding didn’t happen was… the woman you’d called Sierra.
Blinking a few times, Jihoon realized that you were trying to convince him that he was your new boyfriend. That you had brought him here, to this hotel. It was ridiculous and straight out of a bad movie, but somehow… even if he didn’t know you, he felt like he should help you. And so, he let his arm wrap around your waist, catching you by surprise.
“I would kindly ask you to leave us be. You have done enough.”
Your head swirled to look at the man next to you. His stern face and his wet hair. Drops of water sliding down the side of his neck.
“How long has this been going on?” Jaehyun asks, ignoring Jihoon’s request. You turn to look at him again.
“That’s none of your business. You heard him, Jae. Leave. This isn’t your room anymore.”
Another beat of silence falls between the four of you. You try your best to ignore Sierra and cling onto Jihoon’s hand like it was the only saving grace. Perhaps that was true. Holding Jae’s gaze and trying to calm down your hurting heart, your wishes to throw something at him.
“Fine. I heard the honeymoon suite in the Hilton is much nicer than this one, baby.”
It is then that you see it. The rings on her finger. Your stomach drops. He married her. Oh, you’re about to throw up. Jihoon seems to notice your change of emotions, quickly clearing his throat.
“Great. Have fun in Paris then.”
He carefully takes the towel from your hand, wrapping it around him fully again. Then, he looks at you. The overwhelming urge to give you a hug is almost unbearable.
“Maybe,” Jaehyun said, “since we are both seeing other people and have moved on - we could grab dinner sometime this week. All of us.”
Jihoon sees the way your eyes shake at the suggestion. And he is just about to say no, that that’s not a good idea, when you push your shoulder back and hold your head high.
“What a lovely idea. We’d love to, isn’t that right, baby?” You interlock your fingers with Jihoon’s and he stares at you for just a second, before nodding.
“Sure,” he breathes out, looking at Jaehyun and Sierra.
It most certainly isn’t a lovely idea, he is well aware of that. This whole thing isn’t a good idea. But here he is. Holding the hand of a woman he barely met twenty minutes ago. A woman who has seen him naked, a woman who had his half hard cock against the inside of her thigh. A woman he had been closer to than any other in the last five years.
No, this wasn’t a good idea. This was an awful, horrible idea that could only go so, so wrong.
Anonymous asked: Maybe a jihoon imprinted where after he marked you he has like super nostalgia for some reason and he’s being extra fluffy with his mate and can’t stop thinking about her and just wants to cuddle forever?
Characters: Jihoon x female reader
Genre/warnings: werewolf au, college au, fluff, hints of angst but it’s barely even noticeable
Word count: 1,632
Summary: After what happened with the werewolf hunters, Jihoon can’t seem to stop thinking about you. The troubling experience has made him extra clingy toward you, and he just can’t help himself from dragging you away from everything just to spend a moment alone – not that you’re complaining.
Tags: @psshwa @uglyratlmao @brokenbutchocolate @shra-vasti @killcomet @brattybunfornct @shuabby1994 @henloiamaweirdobye @anissanightyoung @babyminghao @mythicalamphitrite @caratluvie @minluvly @honeyylin @miki-chi @heemingyu @noraehey @awkwardnesshabitat @floweryjessy @woozarts @anothershorthuman @vernxnsfool @ti--red @etaerealboy @plants-w0rld (if you’d like to be added to the tag list, please fill out this form!!!)
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You kind of expected Jihoon to be more touchy the night Areum and Bomi were brought home. Areum seemed to be in shock, staring wide-eyed and blankly with her mouth open as Chan cradled her and brought her up to his room, and Bomi just silently went straight to her room with Mingyu following behind her. Jihoon went straight to you, hugged you, and told you he loved you.
It could’ve been you that was taken.
Jihoon stayed extra close that night. Usually went he slept, his arm would just loosely drape over you or he would sometimes just sleep facing away from you all together. But that night, his arms were tight around you as he grumbled to himself in his sleep.
The next day, Jihoon had off, but you had class. You usually carpooled with whoever was going to school, but Jihoon insisted on driving you himself. He held your hand with one hand, and the wheel with the other. He even hung around campus just to walk you to classes and help you study.
That went on for three more days until you finally confronted him. You were letting him walk you to class while he held your hand in his, his brown eyes watching your every move as he occasionally brought the back of your hand to his lips. It was a little weird having him stare at you so much, so you finally let out a loud sigh and pulled him off to the side.
“What’s up with you?” you asked.
“Huh?”
“Why are you clingier than usual?” you wondered, tugging down the mask that hid your scars. “Seriously, you’re never this clingy in public. You hate PDA, and you played with my hair and kissed my cheek a million and one times during lunch break.”
Your mate just shrugged, “Is it a crime to be affectionate, _____?”
“No, but when you’re not usually this affectionate, I like to know what’s wrong.”
“I just–”
Jihoon stopped to run a hand through his hair. He didn’t look angry or frustrated though. He looked…flustered. His ears were red, that same blush growing on his face as he looked at the ground, hoping to find words that wouldn’t embarrass the hell out of him.
“After what…happened,” he began, keeping his voice down in case anybody was trying to listen, “I just feel…I don’t know. I want to be near you a lot, I guess – at least for now. Everyone’s still kind of shaken up, especially Faye even if she wants to pretend she’s not, so I just need to be around you.”
“Aw,” you cooed with a giggle, making Jihoon’s face turn an even brighter red, “you’re feeling all warm and fluffy for me!”
“Jesus Christ, _____, can you not?” he groaned softly, his eyes shifting to see if anybody was watching.
Thankfully, people knew to not stare at either of you.
“What? You’re the one acting all cutesy!”
“Yeah, but it’s different,” he grumbled.
You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “So you’re the only one allowed to be cutesy?”
“Yes.”
Jihoon started dragging you through campus again, so you pulled your mask back up and let him bring you wherever. You had about thirty minutes until your next class, so you weren’t in any rush. However, when you started going toward the arts building, you were confused. Not only were you not studying any of the arts, but Jihoon didn’t have any classes that day so he had no reason to bring you there.
You didn’t say anything as he pulled the door open and gestured for you to walk in first. You’d only been in the arts building a few times just to accompany some of the mates, but you’d never been in with Jihoon.
“Where are we going?” you wondered as Jihoon put his arm around your waist and started leading you down the hall. “I thought we were going to study.”
“Yeah, but you can do that tonight,” he shrugged.
“Jihoon,” you whined.
“Can you just trust me? I want to spend alone time with you and do some cute shit, so stop complaining,” he stated with a frown, yet he kissed your temple afterwards.
He led you toward the music wing, but he didn’t exactly go to the music room you often visited for Seungkwan. Instead, he suddenly turned a sharp left and tugged open one of the side doors for the auditorium. He gently pulled you into the darkness before letting the door close behind you.
He could see perfectly as he brought you backstage with him, but you were tripping over your own feet and the carpet. Thankfully, Jihoon was able to keep you from falling over with his quick reflexes.
The place was totally empty, so your footsteps echoed when you hit the stage. He found the lights and turned only the stage ones on. The glow of the lights bounced off the recently mopped stage, and made the entire auditorium glow dimly. You also found that off to stage left was a grand piano.
“What’re we doing?” you asked once again.
“Spending time together,” he answered simply with the cutest smile on his face as he looked at you. “Do you remember the last time I ever played piano for you?”
“Yeah, when Yoona and Minghao got Junhui that keyboard for his birthday,” you nodded, recalling how only a month later, Mingyu somehow accidentally dropped it down the basement stairs.
“Right,” he nodded, taking your hand again and leading you over to the bench, “so it’s been a while, huh?”
You always loved when Jihoon would play any sort of instrument for you. He didn’t do it often because he was kind of shy when it came to showing you or anyone in the pack what he was working on. But man, did you live for the rare moments he wanted to show off his skills. It was like Jihoon was amazing at anything he tried.
You sat down beside Jihoon as he lifted up the cover to the keys. He stared down at them as he gently ran his fingertips over the white keys, listening to the faint twinkle he heard with his enhanced hearing.
“The janitors always keep that one door unlocked for some reason,” Jihoon suddenly said as he placed his fingers on the starting keys, “so this is where I’ve been coming the last few days.”
“You mean I could’ve been hearing you play more this entire time?” you gasped, feigning hurt.
He chuckled, his cheeks blushing a soft pink, “Yeah, you could. But I was kinda preparing something for you, so it had to be a secret. You’ve...kind of...been all I can think about, so…yeah…”
“Preparing something?” you asked quietly, suddenly feeling very shy, which was weird since you never felt shy. “You mean like…a song?
“Yeah,” he nodded, the blush reaching the tips of his ears now.
Jihoon cleared his throat awkwardly before he began playing. Your eyes stayed on his fingers as they danced across the keys delicately, not missing a single note. He hardly even needed to pay attention because he’d played this song he wrote for you so many times just to get it perfect, and it paid off because you were in absolute awe.
The song sounded soft and beautiful, but still happy. It was almost like a peaceful lullaby that you’d sing to a baby to lull them into a sleep full of happy dreams. There weren’t any lyrics, but it didn’t need any. Jihoon managed to expertly express all of his emotions through the piano keys, and it was incredible.
It almost made you want to cry.
The song softly came to an end, the music fading until he removed his hands from the keys and the auditorium fell silent again with the soft noise of the piano reverberating off the walls. You just stared at Jihoon while he stared down at the piano.
“You…” your voice trailed off, unsure of even what to say. You felt a lot of things but you couldn’t put any of those things into words. “Jihoon, I–”
“I love you, _____,” Jihoon cut you off, picking up on your struggle to grasp for words. He finally looked at you, his gold eyes warm. “I may not be as affectionate as the other guys, but I love you a lot.”
“I know that,” you nodded, cupping one of his cheeks in your hand. He leaned into your touch with a quiet hum, “but I love you because you’re you. You show your feelings in other ways, and I love that. If you acted more like Soonyoung or Mingyu or Chan, you wouldn’t be you.”
You expected him to say something sarcastic as he always did, but instead, he smiled, “Thanks, _____.”
His lips captured yours in a sweet kiss, letting his lips settle into yours for a moment before he pulled away. He pressed a kiss to the button of your nose before pulling away again.
“Do you want to learn something?” he offered, gesturing to the piano.
“Can I ask you something first?”
“Mm,” he hummed, putting his fingers back on the keys.
You turned your head to look at him, “How did you write that song for me?”
He paused, looking away from the piano in favor of looking at you. His eyes had a sparkle in them when his gaze met yours, “I just kind of took my feelings and translated them into music as best as I could.”
“So that’s what your love for me sounds like?” you giggled.
He grinned down at the piano as his cheeks turned pink once again, and you nudged him teasingly, “Yeah, I guess so. But nothing will beat the sound of your laugh.”
synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.
a/n: THIS IS IT! THE END IS NIGH. He’s a long one, that’s for sure. Thank you for anyone who has stuck through and tolerated every drawn out update - I appreciate it very much and hope you enjoyed it anyway xx
**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**
You sit at the train station, the rain bucketing and splashing your legs. You can barely stand to check your phone. Already, you can see the headlines: Princess To-Be Disappointing No-Show. That and the tens of voicemails probably piling up in your message bank. The disapproving hum of your mother, the squealing worry of Mingyu and Minghao. Soonyoung’s barely restrained desperation mixed with understanding only he could have. The guilt churns thick and slow in your stomach, a monster ready to rear its ugly head. But, amongst all that and your blurring tears, you find one you don't expect. Jihoon.
Your finger slips on a raindrop as you tap it.
“Hey. Uh, look. Whatever you're feeling and whatever you decide, it'll be okay. We'll still be here for you at the end of the day. But please, come home. We're all worried. Your grandmother is still waiting for you at the embassy. Everyone is. But, I'll be at home - uh, my place if you need me. Please, just be safe.”
There's another one, from an unknown number.
“Y/n,” your grandmother. “I know you're scared. I'm sorry if you ever felt like I was pushing you into this. So much has been riding on your shoulders, all so soon. And looking back, we should have waited. I should have waited. As much as I may not have looked it, I always cared. You’re family, our legacy. I'll still love you, whatever choice you make. You could never disappoint me - anyone. I love you.”
That's all you needed. Mingyu's attempt at motivation could fall flat, Minghao terrible with your specific type of sympathy. Even Soonyoung’s familiar reassurance or anything your parents could ever say wouldn't sink in. They were all you wanted to hear. Grabbing your bag, you take off running, back to the bus stop back into the city. You might never make it. But you'll give it a damn shot. Violently struggling to tap on your transport pass, you slump into a window seat by the front, sighing in relief as it begins to putter away.
The scenery gets gradually slower and drivers’ thick brows furrow. You sit up wearily as we splutter to a stop, the air brakes whooshing anyway.
“W-why are we stopping?”
He turns to the few of us seated. “We've broken down. Probably the oil or something. I’ve called the depot and we’ll have a replacement shortly. Just sit tight.”
“We - what?” you squeak, getting up into the aisle. “No, no no no! I've got to be at the Amaide embassy! I have a ball to go to!”
He shrugs, opening the doors to let air in. “Sorry, Cinderella.”
You climb out the vehicle, out into the rain again. The road is straight and relatively unmarred. You'll have to run. Shouldering your bag oddly, slinging both straps of the duffle over each shoulder you start to sprint.
It's a bad, short lived sprint. Why you don’t think of a taxi is beyond you.
Your chest is heaving with pain, and so are your legs, crying out for relief. You look to the sky, unforgiving and heavy. You throw your side into a wall as you drag yourself along the footpath. You'll never make it.
“Oh - my - god. This is - how I die. Dead in a - in a puddle.” You sniffle through heaving breaths.
Leaving against the wall, you try holding back another sniffle before giving up, rubbing at your cold, running nose instead.
A car honks. Dropping your head down, you see the official envoy pull up, the door kicking open and the drivers’ window roll down. Junwoo and...Jihoon?
“Come on, princess. You're late!” the bulky man calls with a smirk.
You push off, throwing yourself into the leather seats. Jihoon is across from you, sitting neatly in his simple black suit. God, he looks good in it.
“Thank you for finding me.” You smile.
“Well, after that text and then you didn't show up, something had to have gone wrong. And Junwoo was going out to look for you anyway. Queen's orders.”
You sink into your seat as he passes you a towel. “Gotta love Grandmother.”
“She wasn't giving up on you too soon.” The stocky guard in front says through the open partition. You catch his smile in the rear view mirror. “Especially when Jihoon showed up.”
You pat your arms down and rub furiously at your hair. The cold is only just starting to sink in, wetting the leather under you and sending a shiver through your torso. Jihoon sighs and tosses another fluffy towel over your legs. You slide side to side on the seat a little as Junwoo zips through town while trying to be reasonable.
“Oh well, I'll definitely be making an entrance. Not the prettiest thing to ever get out of an Amaide envoy. Certainly not very princess-like.” You chuckle, throwing the first towel helplessly round your shoulders.
Jihoon’s gaze is warm on you, for once resting for more than a few moments in your direction. His pitch black hair is rustled from the gale that the rain brought with it.
“You're always beautiful, Princess.” He hums.
You laugh breathlessly, ducking your head. He was always so soft-spoken but never failed to make you at least a little flustered.
“How come you were ready so soon?” You squint at Jihoon.
“I was ready even before you messaged me. Call it intuition, but I had a feeling I’d end up here tonight, whether you knew it or not.”
The embassy houses are starting to pop up and you know you're close, even though the rain hasn't let up. You would never have made it in time with your ridiculous idea.
Junwoo pulls up an umbrella and the lot of you usher yourselves inside. Jihoon is swept away in the backstage madness, with not even a chance of goodbye. Soonhee is standing in her soft champagne dress, sash in red over her shoulder and across her middle. She smiles warmly and you don't care how much her dress costs for once as you barrel into her. She makes a soft grunt with the force but delicately wraps her arms around you.
“Thank you for not giving up on me. Sorry I'm late.” You mumble into her shoulder.
“Of course. You're a Park at heart. You're strong enough to make the right decision. It may not have been easy or kind and it might have taken a little while, but you're here.” She says haughtily. “Now, I’ve stalled for as long as I can but that means you're going to have to go out there as you are. There's no time left.”
How did everyone but yourself know you were gonna be here?
You pull back to look at her with furrowed brows. “Are you sure you can't do any more? I don't want to go out like this for you or Amaide.”
Soonhee shakes her head. “I'm sorry. But, I think this will do. It’s...how do you say, authentic. I am glad and incredibly proud that my people will be in your hands.”
Soonyoung has wormed his way back behind the heavy velvet curtain. He giggles at the sight of you.
“Hey Boss! Bit late?”
“Just a little. Weather is vicious.” You shrug.
He slings an arm around you, rubbing fondly at your hair under the towel. “Say what you feel. It’ll come out right. See you after.”
You swallow and nod. Soonyoung gathers the queen up with Junwoo and they both exit down a short hall to the main ballroom. You sling the towel round your neck for later. Someone would announce you when you were ready. And you had to be ready now. You glance to an attendant to your left and nod resolute, heaving a calming breath.
You hear your name and the curtain pulling away to warm bright lights and a podium ornately carved with lemon tree motifs - you know, you watched them pull it out from storage. There’s the violent, sickening shutter of cameras but you hold firm, plastering on a nervous smile, your towel slung round your shoulders.
Your grip is tight on the wood as you lean into the mic. “Hello. Good evening. I apologise for the wait - the weather is a bit horrendous.” A smattering of laughter from press and guests. The lights aren’t blinding but you’re trying not to focus on the many faces on you. “Thank you for attending tonight. Amaide’s freedom and independence has always been our pride. But, I understand if that’s not really why you’re here. And that sort of sucks. Because our country and our people should not boil down to the latest tabloid gossip. We have a thriving tourism and agriculture sector and are one of the few modern societies with a very active and well-functioning monarchy - and a matriarchal one at that. We should be celebrating its freedom and everything that makes it what it is. But, I digress.
“As of half an hour ago I was sitting at a train station in the pouring rain, running away from all of this. And think about it, three months ago, I didn’t even know about this world. And I didn’t think I was ever going to be ready. You’ve all seen my face more in these last few months than anyone ever has all my life. These events have turned the lives of myself and everyone I care about upside down. They have borne this mess none of us ever asked for. I love them all so much that I didn’t want to ruin my home.
“But - oh but. Amaide is home for millions of people. And it could be my home too. I mean, you all just heard me wax poetic about a place I’ve never been. But, it is part of who I am. Who I am going to be. I would never dream of hurting it. I’m so desperate to take care of my home, always have been.
“So with that in mind, I make my claim as Princess and heir apparent to Amaide’s throne - to the future.”
You smile and the delegates make raucous applause. Camera shutter click and flash but you hold steady. You have claimed your birthright. Now it's time to make the right impression for once.
You tip your head. “Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d love to dry off a bit before I catch the flu! Please, enjoy your evening.”
You’re ushered off to the side stage then around the back to servants quarters. Antoni is violently brandishing a round brush and Dyson Air Wrap like a club.
“Where is the Princess! Chop chop!” He cries out.
Massive, calloused hands are firmly on your shoulder blades and shove you into his direction - damn Junwoo, enjoyed any pain that you endured. His eyes light up then he goes pasty.
“This? This is my canvas? Ey, I have my work cut out, huh?” He shoots you a look. “Always the hard road, hmm Princess? Come come, we fix.”
You are whirled up the staircase where Antoni makes quick work of you. The gown fits perfectly, all those fittings paying off in the speedy transformation. Antoni knows what he’s doing, determined as he works around you, drying your hair out for some more control.
“I try to keep you a little natural - we want a good, open impression of you, Princess. Looks can be everything, huh?”
Your hair draped behind your ears and up off your neck in twists and layers where you didn’t know where your hair began and ended. A glittering hair comb, part of the private collection, just like the heavy set necklace that rested against your collarbone, dazzling and weighty. Antoni claps his hands, triumphant. “You are done - beautiful! My work is perfect! Come, the queen will give tiara.”
The embassy is no longer daunting, the staircase not a passage to doom. You turn to Antoni and tip your head.
“Thank you, for your help tonight.”
He scoffs and waves you off. “Is honour, Princess. I must go and ready myself for the people. They will all want to know who dressed the future queen of Amaide.”
You laugh as he whirls back out the way he came and you look to the attendant again, motion to call.
“Announcing Princess Y/N, of Amaide.”
The red curtains part and you step back into the light.
The queen holds a sparkling tiara, the most stunning thing you’d ever seen. This, you hadn't organised. Your grandmother was quite secretive about this part, insisting it was something she must do alone.
She raises it and you tip your head down so that she could place it on your head. “This was my first tiara, also gifted by my grandmother at my coming out ball. I was not meant to be queen. Neither were you. Now look at where we are. Now you must shine.”
A round of applause and your sight falls on your mother's eyes glassy and red as she smiles, her applause one of the few that mattered at that moment.
When you step to the main floor, you are swarmed by diplomats and the like with congratulations. Soonyoung is by your side in a heartbeat to mitigate them as quickly as possible, while turning the lights on even more and the strings rising in. A lot of greetings and thank you’s and “look forward to discussing the topic of choice with you at a later date.”
Then, as soon as you’d finished, the people fell away and you spot Jihoon by a pillar, close to the string orchestra. Of course he was where the music was.
I sidle up next to him, watching the orchestra. “Evening.”
He glances at you and smiles. “Evening, Princess.”
“How’s your night been?”
“I did meet the conductor here. Got some tips, had a chat. I can keep myself busy.”
You mock frown. “That’s the conductor of Amaide’s Philharmonic Orchestra, you know - the queen pulled out all the stops. But, I had sort of hoped you would be at least a little bit bored. What am I supposed to do to top that for someone like you?”
“Not sure. Maybe become princess?” Jihoon smirks.
“You’re annoying. Lee Jihoon, will you do me the honour of being my first dance partner?” You pout up at him a little, clasping your hands in your lap. “I saved it for you. Even over my own parents!”
“Of course. How can I deny that?”
He guides you gently out to the mosaic floor, settling you in front of him. In your time training and with Jihoon as a music major, you yourself have come to appreciate the string set playing tonight - you might not know the song, but it’s very beautiful and fits the energy of the room. He starts with a simple, not very royal, sway. With your meticulously manicured hands slung up round his neck, you let the fact that this is your first dance as princess, in public, cameras shuttering only metres away fall to the back of your mind. You’re happy that this moment would be one of the first pictures for the news outlets. You wanted it documented.
“Are you sure you’re okay with a princess as a potential girlfriend? We’re very prim and proper and not very fun. We certainly shouldn’t be going out for fried chicken and drinks on a weekly basis.”
He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I’m sure you can make an exception.”
“For you?” You quirk a brow.
Jihoon gives you an unimpressed look. “Yeah, I guess for me.”
“Well, of course then!” You laugh. “Anything for you!”
And after all this, you really mean it. He grits his teeth and grins, tightening his grip on you and giving you a forceful spin that has you cackling. Jihoon doesn’t even get tangled in your dress!
“I didn’t know you could dance.” You chirp.
“I’m a music major. I’ve got rhythm.”
“Shut up.”
final notes: well, here we are. the end of an excessively drawn out two...three? year journey. i hoped you enjoyed it as much as i did. and i certainly hope i did justice any sort of expectation you may have had walking into this. thank you so much for all the support, i promise it did not go amiss!
who knows? maybe i might pull a “princess diaries 2: the royal engagement” just to be funky...
why am i so bad at remembering important details about things i have read 😭 now i want to find that one au that’s woozi x reader (can’t remember how long it was) but wonwoo in the story like to tease how reader acts like woozi’s “dog” and reader was kinda involved with mingyu in the middle to the story and woozi got jealous and bla bla bla happy ending something like that
You wake up in frantic voices coming from your boyfriend. As you open your eyes, you see two figures almost hovering you as they look at you in worry.
You look at them questioningly. “Jihoon, is everything alright?” you asked.
“I should be the one asking you that.” He said pushing his jacket further to cover you.
“Jihoon were about to wake you up from sleep but when He touched you, he kind of panic because of your temperature.” Vernon explained before you could ask what is happening.
Jihoon reached out for your hand. “I kind of panic when I touched your hand. It’s too cold then I went to touch your feet and then your face they’re the same.”
You looked down and hold his hand tighter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you”
“Are you sure you’re, okay? Why didn’t you say anything that the aircon’s too cold? I can turn it low for you.” He sighed squeezing your hand tighter hoping to warm your hands. “I thought I freeze you to death”
You giggled at his exaggeration “It’s not that cold. I swear, I just tend to have cold hands and cold feet whenever it’s cold.”
“which means?” Jihoon asked handing you a cup of coffee.
“My hand always gets cold even when I’m not cold” You said taking the cup, “and thank you” taking a sip from the coffee.
Jihoon looks at you worriedly in which you smiled. “I’m really okay Jihoon. Do not worry. I’m really sorry for worrying you.”
“It’s alright. I am sorry for not knowing about your cold hands. And do tell me if you are cold, I’ll make sure to keep your hands warm.” Tugging your hands closer to his. “All the time” He smiled.
My ending sucks and I’m trying to come up with better endings. But I hope you like it! My requests are open! Feel free to send me an ask or anything!
Wow I have little consistency here. BUT. Here we are. Anyway I wrote this, hated it, deleted it all, and then rewrote it but flipped. SO ENJOY! 💛
Requested by @ruthio21
9 - “You know, you can stay if you want.”
You leaned on the counter, sighing to yourself. Of course this was going to be another slow evening. You just wanted to go home. That was all you wanted to do. You wanted to go home, curl up under a blanket, and finish that book you started last night that kept you up until about 3am. The book which you thought you had put in your bag this morning but apparently did not. Oh how much you wanted to just say screw it and leave right now.
But your bills argued otherwise, so you had to stay at the almost empty restaurant.
“Bored?” You heard, turning your head to see Mingyu, writing some notes from a textbook you didn’t even bother to comprehend. He told you what he was studying at least 4 times, but frankly it never managed to stick into your skull.
“So bored.” You sighed, starting to try and keep your pencil standing straight up. Stupid counters not being even, surely that’s why you couldn’t get it to stand up.
“Want to help me study?” He asked, causing you to just stare at him. After several seconds of staring, Mingyu shrugged and turned back to his book.
“Fine, sit in boredom until you’re done then.” He said, starting to read the page, his hand scribbling next to him. You stuck your tongue out at him, knowing he didn’t even see it and turned to face the door.
You quickly stood up as the door opened, seeing a single man walk in.
“Hello!” You greeted, smiling at him. “Table for one?” You asked, the man looking at you.
“Uh… Two, actually.” He said, you nodding.
“Ah, gotcha. You can just sit in any of the open booths, I’ll grab you some waters.” You smiled, walking in back to get the drinks. You carefully walked the two waters to the table, setting one down in front of the man and the other across from him.
“Would you like menus or would you like to wait for your date?” You asked, the man looking at you. To your surprise, he let out a nervous chuckle.
“Ah, it is kind of obvious this is a date, huh?” He asked, you shrugging.
“I didn’t mean to assume…” You said, and he quickly waved his hand.
“No, no you were right. It’s uh… It’s a blind date actually. My friend Soonyoung said he knew this person who would be a good fit for me and went on a whole thing about how I don’t really date and meet people so he kind of badgered me into going on this date and I don’t know he showed me a picture and I guess they are kind of cute but now I’m worried it’s going to go terribly or we won’t match up well or I won’t be enough for them and…” He looked up at you, staring back at him. “...That was… That was too much information huh?”
“...Just a bit.” You said, seeing the man’s face turn red. “Can uh… Can I bring you something else to drink?”
“Coke please.” He said, clearing his throat. You nodded, walking back to the counter, Mingyu looking at you with an eyebrow raised.
“What was that about?” He quietly asked, nodding his head towards the man.
“Blind date.” You whispered back, Mingyu nodding and looking at him again. You grabbed the soda and brought it back, setting it next to his water.
“I’ll be back in a bit with menus then… If you need anything else my name is Y/N.” You smiled, pointing at your nametag.
“Thanks.” He said, giving you a small smile. You quickly nodded your head, turning to head behind the counter before you seemed too flustered. He was fairly cute.
You managed to get a little busier, handling most of the people coming in so Mingyu could study (you agreed to split the tips from his usual tables, and he did help when you had three orders at once). However, your eyes kept darting back to the single man, sitting alone at the booth. Still.
During one of your down times, you watched him as he scrolled through his phone, occasionally stopping to watch something or type out a message. Maybe to his date? Maybe to his friend, possibly the one named Soonyoung? Maybe he was just typing notes for later.
“Still no date, huh?” Mingyu asked, standing next to you.
“Doesn’t look like it.” You said, tilting your head.
“What?” Mingyu asked, chuckling a bit.
“What kind of person do you think is going to show up?” You absentmindedly asked, glancing at Mingyu after a second. Mingyu shrugged, looking at the man.
“I don’t know. At this rate I’d say a kind of shitty one.” He said, causing you to hit his arm. “What? The guy has been sitting there for almost an hour. They clearly haven’t cancelled or informed him, because he would have left by now.” Mingyu said, looking at you.
“Maybe they’re just running late.”
“If they were running this late, they would have rescheduled.” Mingyu sighed. “Gotta say, dude has hope. I would have left a half hour ago.” Mingyu added, turning to bring a plate to another table. You turned back to the man, who was now looking out the window. You picked up a menu, bringing it over to the table.
“So… Do you want to order something now and then your date can-”
“They’re not coming.” He said, looking up at you and giving you a slightly sad smile.
“What?” You asked, blinking at him.
“I couldn’t reach them, so I asked my friend about 20 minutes ago. Something apparently came up last minute and they couldn’t come.” He said, tapping the menu.
“Oh… I’m sorry.” You added, the man shrugging.
“It’s not your fault.” He said, giving you another sad smile. “I was just kind of looking forward to it a little more than I thought, I guess.”
“Why did you stay so long then?” You asked, tilting your head. “If you knew they weren’t coming 20 minutes ago, why did you stay here?”
“I don’t know. I would have felt embarrassed for you and the other guy to see me leave alone.” He said, nodding at Mingyu behind the counter. “But uh… I guess I can leave now. Sorry for keeping your table filled all night.” He said, standing up and pulling out his wallet to pay for his drink.
“Wait uh…” You said, putting up a hand. The man looked at you, eyebrows up. “You know, you can stay if you want.”
“Huh?” He asked, blinking a bit. “Oh, no I couldn’t. I’ve taken enough of your time tonight-”
“Oh just come sit at the counter. You can hang out with me and Mingyu.” You said, waving a hand for him to follow you. “I must warn you, I’m the exciting one.” You whispered, winking before walking towards the counter. The man stood there for a second before hesitantly putting his wallet away and following you.
“So, this is Mingyu.” You said, pointing at Mingyu, watching as he looked up at the new guest at the counter before looking at you. “And as I said earlier I am Y/N.” You said, pointing to yourself.
“Jihoon.” He said, holding up a hand.
“Nice to meet you Jihoon.” You grinned, placing a menu in front of him. “So what sounds good?”
“Uh…” Jihoon glanced at the menu, eyeing different things. “A burger sounds okay.”
“Then a burger it is!” You said, heading in back to place the order.
“Sorry about your date.” Mingyu said, Jihoon looking at him. “Y/N mentioned you were waiting for one.”
“Ah… It’s okay.” He said. “It’s uh… Not too bad of an evening I guess.” Mingyu nodded. He glanced over to the clock, eyes widening a bit.
“Oh shit. I have to go…” He looked around the restaurant, not seeing too many guests. “Look, can you tell Y/N I had to run? If it gets swamped in here tell them to call Cheol, he lives down the street. If you offer him free dessert he’ll come help. Thanks.” Mingyu said, getting up and swinging a bag over his shoulder before Jihoon could respond. You came back out as the door shut behind Mingyu.
“...Where did Mingyu go?”
“He uh…” Jihoon looked back at the door. “He said he had to go.” You looked at the clock.
“Ah that’s right.” You looked back at Jihoon. “He has an exam in the morning.”
“Ah.” Jihoon responded.
“So you see that couple over there?” You nodded your head to the right, Jihoon turning to face a young pair in a booth, awkwardly sitting together. Jihoon nodded, turning to you to see a smile on your face. “They’re like, 15, but this is the third time they’ve been in here to do homework. They have this awkward crush energy and it's kind of been my activity during work to see when they make it official. I think tonight might be the night.” You explained, Jihoon nodding along. He half listened, instead finding himself being a little flattered by your smile.
“Oh shoot, I’ll be right back.” You said, tapping your hand on his before going to help a customer at another table. Jihoon just stared where you tapped his hand, blinking a bit.
Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be a terrible night after all.
