a/n: dedicated to ro, ( @shinysobi ) who has become one of my closest friends in caratblr. ro and i have yapped, for hours on end, about everything and nothing, and especially about mingyu and jihoon. whenever i have even the slightest inspiration for a new plot, ro always encourages me to take it further, resulting in a whole bunch of headcanons that will probably live on only in our dms. call me crazy for gifting someone angst on their birthday, but ro is one of the few people who loves angst as much as i do, and i couldn't resist this fic idea :)
the fic will be divided into 4 parts, because i suck at planning ahead, but please anticipate the next parts to be slightly happier than this emotional wreck!
shout-out to supi ( @supi-wupi ) for making this cute banner!! its exactly the way i imagined <33 also thank you for reading over this fic. serena ( @gotta-winwin ) , jina ( @facethesunflower ) and rae ( @nerdycheol ) helped me figure out the storyline of this fic!! thank u alll <33
and lastly, happy birthday ro :) ILYSM WOOZILOVER69 <3
word count: 2.4k
contents: jihoon x f!reader , angst , medical!au , but not much focus on the medical aspect , this part is just sad , reader gets fired , jihoon gets dumped , nightmares
when the door to the director’s office closes behind you, the rain outside is a light drizzle. by the time you manage to empty your locker and drag your weary feet out the main entrance to the hospital, the large drops of rain feel almost painful as they hit your skin.
you walk to the nearest bus stop, and the rain doesn’t let up. you’re standing there alone, getting drenched in the rain like a fool, because everyone else either checked the weather forecast and remembered to carry an umbrella, or had someone remind them.
as the doors of an empty bus come to a halt in front of you, it hits you just how lonely you’ve been. you’re not sure if the lone bus driver notices your tears mix with the rain soaking you, but he thankfully doesn’t probe when you ask, “till when do the buses run?”
“for a few more hours, till eleven,” the bus driver replies, and you feel a weird mix of relief and sadness at the thought of getting to be alone for some more time.
“i’ll pay whatever it takes to just keep driving till eleven. you can go anywhere, i don’t mind,” for a moment, you think the old man may laugh in your face at your request, but his kind eyes reveal that he must have encountered people just as lost as you felt now and driven them out to a better place.
“no worries, kid,” he smiles. “just take a seat, i’ll look after the rest.”
the bus ride passes in silence as you stare out of the window, head completely devoid of any thoughts. it was a welcome change from the constant tornado of what-ifs, maybes, and could have beens that wreak havoc in your mind.
for the first thirty minutes, the bus driver tries to subtly take a look at your silent, shivering figure. he’s probably wondering why someone soaked to the bone wouldn’t ask for even a paper napkin to try and dry themselves off.
at the lack of any communication from you, the remainder of your bus journey passes with the bus driver’s eyes focusing on the road, while yours wander aimlessly.
at the end of your two hours, you manage to pull out crumpled bills from your wallet and hand them over to the driver before leaving the bus.
you had no idea where you were, and for the first time in ages, the uncertainty surrounding you wasn’t slowly killing you from the inside. you pull yourself together for long enough to find dry clothes, a nearby hotel, and a room for the night.
the end of a day that you’d never even imagined manages to surprise you one last time—when your head hits the pillow, you immediately drift off to sleep. the haunting beep of your pager, the constant worrying about your future, and a thousand regrets from your past weren’t around to keep you awake, and you feel an ironic sense of gratitude for your current situation right before you fall asleep.
hearing your mother’s voice over the speakers of your phone makes you tear up. the nostalgia of hearing her ask if you’ve eaten breakfast, just like how she used to when you still lived with her, creates an uncomfortable lump in your throat. you swallow thickly and answer shakily, “no, i haven’t eaten yet, eomma.”
“you should eat, sweetie. grab something from the hospital cafeteria, won’t you?” your mother tuts, the concern in her voice making you sick to your stomach with the guilt stirring up in your gut.
it had been three days, ten hours, and twenty-four minutes since you’d stepped into the hospital. your white doctor’s coat hangs off a chair at your dining table, the pocket that once held your employee badge empty. you hadn’t touched that coat in three days, ever since you left the hotel and came back to your apartment, not even to disentangle the stethoscope hanging out of a pocket.
the usual, perfectly-pressed white fabric of your coat was now crinkly with misuse, and each wrinkle stared back at you tauntingly, reminding you of your failed goals.
“i’ll do that,” you say, instead of saying i don’t even work at the hospital anymore. “my team needs me now, eomma. i’ll call you back later.”
“okay, sweetie,” your mother sounds hesitant, almost as if the crack in your voice makes her doubt your employment status. “call more often, okay? i really miss you.”
“i will,” you lie, again, and there’s a strange pain in your chest long after the call disconnects. a pain you thought you’d gotten used to over the years of lies and excuses.
things change, a small voice in the back of your head says, and after looking at the abandoned white coat on the chair across you, you couldn’t agree more.
“i can’t do this,” younghee sighs, the tense line of her shoulders giving away her frustration. “you keep asking me the same question, and it’s—”
“forgive me for wondering how much longer i’ll have to wait to get married to you!” jihoon interrupts her, shrugging his coat off with more force than usual.
“why do you keep asking if you know you’ll get the same answer?” younghee argues. “begging a hundred times won’t make me say yes!”
“begging?” jihoon scoffs. “now you think i’m begging you to get married? we’re engaged, for fuck’s sake! am i not allowed to ask about our wedding? it’s been three years, younghee. aren’t you tired of delaying this every time?”
“i am tired, jihoon,” younghee answers, but the exhaustion in her tone sounds different. “i’m tired because i don’t want this wedding at all.”
“what do you mean?” jihoon asks. “do you need more time to think? because three whole years seems like a lot of time to think.”
“i-i’ve already made up my mind,” younghee sounds resigned and guilty, and jihoon’s mind keeps firing off alerts at the unfamiliar tone of younghee’s voice. what he learns, though, is that no amount of warnings would have prepared him for the words that followed.
“i don’t want this wedding at all, jihoon, because i don’t want to be with you anymore.”
———
the aftermath of this recurring nightmare is the same. jihoon wakes up gasping for breath, his shirt soaked with sweat and heart racing unnaturally.
like clockwork, he looks to the empty side of his bed, the lingering scent of younghee’s shampoo having faded from the pillows a long time ago. he looks at the nightstand next to him and the framed photograph of him with who he thought would be beside him for life.
then, with robot-like movements, jihoon leaves his bed, the unblinking numbers on his alarm clock reading 4:37. he wordlessly pads into his kitchen, tries to ignore the matching pink mug next to his blue one, and pours himself a cold glass of milk.
the coffee machine next to the stove lays unused, like it has been for the past six months, with no one to drink coffee. jihoon always found coffee too bitter for his palate, and with younghee gone, even milk spreads over his tongue like bitter poison.
on nights like these, jihoon thinks. he thinks about the pathetic person he’s reduced himself into by living within the same, suffocating walls of his apartment. he thinks about how he should move on, at least make some effort, but he also thinks about how much it hurts his heart to even walk past the living room and glance at the bouquet of dead roses he had bought for younghee six months ago, the night everything had changed.
everyone tells him he needs to move on, but change hurts, and jihoon has never liked feeling pain.
you weren’t planning this, but somehow, your entire apartment has been packed into boxes. your apartment, with its ceiling-to-floor glass windows and large balcony, once your safe space, had now become a cruel reminder of how you didn’t have a job to pay even another month of rent.
“you’re leaving? just like that?” a voice startles you out of your thoughts, and you turn to see haerin standing at the door of your apartment, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.
“how did you know i was—?” you start, but haerin interrupts you with a pointed look. “mr. song called me when he saw the packers enter your apartment. why didn’t you tell me?”
you can’t get yourself to feel too angry at the old watchman, not when he’s taken care of you on multiple occasions when you felt so tired after your shifts at the hospital to even unlock the door to your apartment. you do, however, feel dread crawling its way up your chest at haerin’s sharp gaze.
“i didn’t think it was that important,” you shrug, your lie sounding unconvincing to even your ears.
“i know i call you an idiot, but i never thought you were this stupid,” haerin scoffs. “you’re my best friend, y/n. how could you think that you moving out wasn’t important enough to tell me?”
“haerin, let’s just drop the topic,” you sigh. “i’ve got a lot to do, and i can’t waste time like this.”
“i know you’re trying to push me away, but you forget that i’ve been your friend throughout med school,” haerin ignores your protests as she steps into your apartment, carefully avoiding all the scattered boxes. “i can deal with your every mood, so don’t expect me to leave here without an explanation. why are you leaving all of a sudden?”
“is it really that hard to see?” you sneer. “i fucking failed, haerin. i messed up and now i have no job, and no hospital is willing to take me in. anywhere i go, people stare and whisper at me. i’m the new freak in this city, so forgive me for running away from something that hurts me.”
“have you even tried to look for new positions?” haerin counters, her eyes softening when she sees the tears in yours. “i have a friend at asan, and he can help you out—”
“i don’t want to be a charity case,” you shake your head. “i haven’t worked my ass off just to be handed a job offer out of pity. i’m done with this city, and it’s clearly done with me too.”
“you can’t be giving up that easily, y/n,” haerin presses further. “give it some time, and maybe you’ll even get your old job back.”
“with kim hyungsoo kissing the director’s ass? yeah, sure,” you roll your eyes. “haerin, he got me kicked out of the hospital i’ve contributed a quarter of my life to. he has money, power, and every odd is stacked against me. there’s no way i’m going back there.”
haerin’s shoulders slump; she’s clearly out of any other arguments, and it makes you feel a twisted sense of relief. you don’t want to have a pointless argument with your best friend, but you also wish that something, anything, would stop you from upending the life you’ve made for yourself in seoul and going back to your hometown.
you hang onto a sliver of hope, expecting haerin to magically come up with another solution, but your next move is clearly laid out in front of you when haerin wraps you in a tight hug and says, “i’ll miss you, y/n.”
“haven’t seen you in this town before.”
jihoon turns his head to the side to see a kid standing next to him. he has a serious expression on his face, as serious as a ten-year old can get, but the bright red lollipop in his hands and the shaggy bowl-cut made it hard for jihoon to take him seriously.
“do you have another one of those lollipops on you?” jihoon answers, and the kid gives him a judging glance. after ten seconds of scanning jihoon up and down, the kid gives him a satisfied nod. “i’ll give you two if you give me 500 won.”
“deal, but you need to tell me your name first,” jihoon smiles, and the kid is quick to reply.
“my name is kim dohun,” dohun says. “what’s yours?”
“lee jihoon,” jihoon offers him a handshake, and dohun just gives him an unimpressed look, so jihoon awkwardly retracts his hand. just when he thought that he’d botched his first conversation with possibly one of the only people who didn’t know who he was in this town, dohun speaks up.
“you look tired. do you want ice-cream?”
dohun looks much more trusting now, and that makes jihoon smile even wider.
“yeah, i’d love an ice-cream, dohun-ssi.”
within five minutes, dohun had led jihoon to a convenience store near the train station jihoon had arrived at. with the air of someone who knows what he likes, dohun picks out a strawberry-flavored ice-cream for himself, and looks at jihoon as he picks out his choice.
with a melona ice-cream in his hands, jihoon joins dohun on the bench outside the convenience store after paying for both their snacks. his luggage is tucked away next to the large tub holding umbrellas for customers who forget their own.
“so, ahjussi, you still didn’t say—”
“call me hyung, dohun-ssi,” jihoon stops him. “i’m really not that old.”
“doesn’t look like it,” dohun mumbles, but he agrees anyway. “you can call me just dohun, jihoon-hyung. now can you tell me why i’ve never seen you here?”
“i’ve been away, dohun-ah,” jihoon sighs. “i was born here, but i moved out a long time ago, maybe even before you were born.”
“why did you move out?” dohun asks. despite all the maturity he tries to carry himself with, jihoon can clearly point out the childlike curiosity peeking through in his tone.
“because of…. work,” jihoon replies, as vaguely as possible.
“it feels like you’re lying though?” dohun questions with an accuracy only children possess in making judgements about new people. “your eyes look very sad, hyung.”
jihoon figures that even smiles can’t hide the heartbreak in his eyes, so he cuts out the pretense. dohun seems to appreciate the honesty in the defeated line of jihoon’s shoulders, and jihoon feels relieved that he doesn’t have to lie to another person about how he’s feeling.
“i am sad, dohun-ah,” jihoon confesses. “and i don’t know when i’ll feel better, or even if i ever will.”
“you will, hyung,” dohun says, and his words feel even more genuine than all the consolation from colleagues jihoon left behind in daegu. “i’ll help you, if you’d like that.”
“i’d like that,” jihoon nods, turning to face dohun. “i really would.”
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
SVT Vocal unit: Falling in love With a Trans guy: Part 1
I combined a few requests because they were close. They may be a little longer so I split them. I'm tired and I dont want to half ass it
I was so upset because I spent about 2 hours trying to write for everyone and it was awful. Everyone was too much like another. Thank y’all for asking in and giving me a unit.
Woozi
Woozi had the mindset of ‘It has nothing to do with me, as long as you're happy and doing what's best for you’ about (y/n) being transgender. He was still a friend before (y/n) told everyone the truth, but he didn't care. Jihoon didn't see the point in making a big deal out of it, (y/n) was still (y/n). Jihoon saw the way (y/n) looked at girls, how his eyes lingered on a beautiful or nice girl. Jihoon thought he was straight, Jihoon thought he was correct. But that didn't stop Jihoon from looking how (y/n) sipped his coffee/tea on their trips to the coffee shop, or how (y/n)‘s body reacted to stillness. Jihoon didn't want to believe that he was in love with his friend but it appeared that way.
He was walking to the kitchen after waking up and saw the back of (y/n)‘s head, Jihoon knew that hair. In the other’s hand was a mug of the dorm and Seungkwan on his lap, half asleep. (Y/n) and a few of the other members we talking quietly, none of them could see the short, jealous man. Jihoon walked into the kitchen and got a mug a little angerly. He didn't want to believe that he was jealous, that would mean he was in love, with his friend. Jihoon was tired, he didn't know what he was doing. He put his mug down and spoke loudly, “(Y/n), Can you meet me in the kitchen?” Jihoon heard Seungkwan’s whines and he panicked. ‘Why did I do that, I have no idea what I'm going to do.’ (Y/n) came into the kitchen, his own mug still in hand.
“What do need, Jihoon?” His brain was going haywire, Why did he do this? “I,” He stuttered, “I have feelings for you.” His once brave façade was gone, like the sleepiness he had when he had called (y/n) into the room. “I like you too, Jihoon. I wouldn't be your friend if I didn't like you.” (Y/n) felt like he was missing something. “No, Like you more than a friend. But I know you like girls, So I respect that and just-” (Y/n) had to stop him right there, “Jihoon, clearly what a person has in their pants doesn't bother me. I like a person for their personality and themselves, not if they're a guy, girl or anything else.” Awkward silence soon surrounded them, Jihoon tried to break it, “So, can we go on a date or what?” (Y/n) Tilted his head down and placed a smirk on his face,
“How about our normal coffee place? I think the employees have been hoping for us to start dating for a while.”
Jeonghan
Jeonghan had been friends with (y/n) since high school. When he came out, Jeonghan had offered to show him some style tips, (y/n) responded by saying 'I'm not going to take advice from a guy who gets mistaken as a girl half the time. I'll ask Seungcheol.’ Jeonghan had his eyes on him before their friendship bloomed. He soon forgot about all about that as he realized how great of a person (y/n) was. Becoming Jeonghan’s friend meant that, sooner or later, That person will become with friends with all of Seventeen.
Being a guy, Jeonghan thought that you liked girls. Like Jeonghan liked girls, he liked guys too but had never really explored that side of himself. He saw (y/n) and saw an opportunity. Jeonghan’s intentions were slightly skewed as he bonded with you greatly. As (y/n) became friends will his bandmates, Jeonghan became more stressed. He wanted to date (y/n) and if things went wrong, he could just drop out of his life. But his friends are friends with (y/n) now. Even with Jeonghan being your friend for so long, He couldn't tell if he was straight, bi or gay. Jeonghan was planning on confessing for a while now, but could never build up the courage to do it. It was a Friday night, in Jeonghan’s bed.
A movie was playing on (y/n)‘s computer, they were both under the blankets. It was a romatic movie that was new and being raved about. The charters were engaging in overly sweet acts. Jeonghan’s hand crept over to the other's, his hand wound with (y/n)‘s. Jeonghan tried to focus in on the movie and not at (y/n)‘s burning glaze. He did notice that (y/n) didn't shy away, he held his hand and wasn't afraid of it. As the movie ended, (y/n) looked over to Jeonghan. “Jeonghan, Can I tell you something?” Jeonghan nodded, He was too afraid to look as their hands were still intertwined. “I really like you, more than a friend and by the way that you're holding my hand, I think I can say the same for you.”
“I thought I was being sneaky but I do like you. I would like to do this but much closer.
Joshua
Jisoo never thought he was gay. He never gave much thought of it. He didn't have anything against gay or transgender people. He knew they weren't widely accepted and didn't see why. His friend, (y/n), was a trans guy and made him understand even more. Jisoo was a strong ally because of him. Jisoo soon introduced (y/n) to the rest of his friends. He could see that (y/n) was getting along with his members. He was worried that his friends could or would say somthing. Jisoo had a slow crush growing, he didn't notice it. It started with Jisoo having his arm around (y/n)‘s shoulders or waist, get each other their coffee from the café that has books and the soft chairs, or trying to play the guitar together. They were close friends but Jisoo could always tell that there was this underlying feeling.
Jisoo had felt the look of (y/n)'s eyes on him. Jisoo often has those moments too. When (y/n)'s face mask was pulled down after a cold day, his cheeks pink from the cold and the slight bit of snow on (y/n)'s hair and clothes. Jisoo thought he looked ethereal. Another time is when (y/n) was wearing something he really liked, he got this type of confidence that made him look better. Jisoo had always thought that (y/n) was straight, he often positively commented on girl's clothing and fashion. He'd never seen (y/n) interested in guys other than to learn mannerisms from them.
He could only imagine what the guy dealt with being raised the way he was. It was a weekend day at night, (y/n) had been playing his guitar and Jisoo had recognized the toon and started singing along softly. (y/n) had looked over and saw the way Jisoo was looking at the sheet of music. (y/n) could see the frustration on his face. He walked over to Jisoo on his bed and sat beside him. "Do you want a break?" Jisoo just shook his head to say no, (y/n) knew that he loved writing music but sometimes he forgot to take care of himself. (y/n) sat back and went on his phone.
Jisoo looked up and saw that (y/n) had maneuvered around that they were shoulder to shoulder. (y/n) read the lyrics on the paper, it was a love song. Jisoo had frozen to see the other's reaction. The moment had a sense of romantic tension. (y/n) had slowly looked at him and slowly leaned in. Jisoo had the choice to go in for the kiss or pull away, Jisoo had been waiting too long to let this opportunity go. He leaned in and crashed lips with (y/n), a bit messy but the kiss was sweet. They pulled apart, Jisoo broke the silence but kept the eye contact,
"Please let us continue with this, just maybe like boyfriends?"
