#jihoon x reader

[junguksu]

watching love song for illusion bc of park jihoon and literally am i the only one who would be totally down for fuck ak hee like bro.

he's a rascal but like. all he wants is for someone to see him.

also like damn. i have Thoughts about the concept of DID viewed as demonic possession from back in the day

[callisrecords]

PROJECT: KILL SWITCH [TEASER]

pairing: lee jihoon x f!reader trope: cyberpunk au, s2l description: Part of @studiosvt 's Cyberpunk: Reload collab On a trip to the Wastelands, you don't expect to find much that's intact. Definitely not an escape pod or a man still inside it. Lee Jihoon seems to be unregistered, unchipped and jarringly not from this century. In a city held together by a network no one can escape, he is the only thing it cannot read, cannot follow, and cannot override. As details about a mission that predates everything you’ve ever known begin to surface, you realise Jihoon’s existence is more than just an anomaly. Somewhere within the structure of the megacorp that controls the city lies a failsafe: a kill switch tied to an authority long believed dead. Except maybe it isn’t. warnings: cyberpunk dystopia, body modification, loss of autonomy, vomit/nausea, drugs and alcohol, mild body horror, injury, violence, explicit language, human experimentation, torture, grief and trauma teaser w/c: 900

The pod is mostly quiet now.

The low hum of whatever systems are still clinging to life runs underneath everything, and the occasional rustle of the food packet breaks through the silence, but neither of you speak.

The worst of the shaking has passed. He sits with his back against the chamber, one knee drawn up slightly, the other stretched out awkwardly. The empty water pouch sits beside him.

You eye the packet, wondering if it’s the real deal or the lab grown stuff from the lower markets. It looks real enough, and you’re hungry too, but it feels wrong to ask this man about food while he sits looking like that. 

He doesn’t look at you right away.

For a while, his attention stays on smaller things—the food in his hands, the way his fingers still tremble when he lifts it, the slow way he chews, like he’s making sure his body remembers how to. Every now and then his gaze drifts, to the panels along the walls, the flickering screens and strips of light slipping through the hatch behind you.

Then to you. Like you’re the one thing in the room he hasn’t accounted for yet.

His brows tighten. You can’t tell if he looks alarmed or suspicious before he glances away, dropping his attention back to the food.

Another bite.

Then, like he can’t leave it alone—

“…are you part of the recovery crew?” he asks, throat finally softened by the water. 

“What?” Your brows furrow.  

“The recovery crew,” he repeats, slower this time, like it's obvious and you’re the one missing it. He gestures vaguely around the pod. “Where’s the rest of them? Has mission control been notified?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

His face twists in confusion too. Great. Neither of you knows what the other is saying.

“This,” he says, knuckles weakly tapping the side of the chamber. “The pod. We were supposed to—” He stops, jaw tightening. His gaze flicks past you, to the door, the sliver of grey sky and scrap beyond it.

“This isn’t a water landing, is it?” he asks, more to himself than to you, “We didn’t…”

His eyes lock onto you, running up and down before his lips purse.

“What are you wearing?”

The confusion deepens, tipping into disbelief. “Where did I land? Some kind of… themed zone? Convention or something? Are we at Comic Con?”

You blink at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t—” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what else this is supposed to be.”

That’s enough.

You bring your wrist up, the interface flickering to life across your skin in a soft blue, thin lines of light forming a curved display just above your hand.

“Name,” you demand. “Tell me your name.”

He stares at the hologram first with widened eyes and a dropped jaw. 

“Hey, answer me!” 

“Jihoon,” he says. “Lee Jihoon.” 

You type it in and the system scans through the city’s registry faster than you can follow.

NO MATCH.

You frown and try again. Still nothing. 

You lower your hand, the projection still hovering. Jihoon hasn’t moved, his attention still locked on your wrist. 

His eyes move from the display to your face and then back. “We didn’t have—” He stops himself.

A few seconds pass before he speaks again, more careful this time

“The time dilation. If I’m back now, it must have been…” The cogs turn visibly. “About fifteen years? Is it 2047?”

“Are you on something?” you scoff, starting to get annoyed. “If this is some sort of a stim trip, you picked a bad place to ride it out.”

The words come out sharper than you mean them to, but it feels like someone’s pulling a prank on you, and it's been a long day.

“No, wait—” Jihoon splutters, raising a hand. “What year is it? How long has it been since the launch?”

“What launch? Lazarus hasn’t sent anything to outer space in decades.” You scowl. 

“What year is it?” He asks again. “Please.”

You exhale sharply, massaging your temple before turning back to him. “Fine,” you roll your eyes, feet tapping on the ground. “It’s 2226.”

There’s a brief pause where he looks at you like he’s waiting for you to follow that up with something else—something that makes it make sense—before a faint crease forms between his brows and his gaze drops, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.

“Right,” Jihoon says after a few seconds. He nods multiple times before tilting his head up to look at you again, trying to figure out if you’re serious or just committed to whatever this is. “Okay.” 

You say nothing.

He drags a hand through his damp hair before settling it at the back of his neck. It makes him look casual enough. Maybe even awkward, if it wasn’t for the way his cheeks are hollowed with irritation.

“That’s funny,” he adds, without any real humour. “Did they tell you to say that, or—”

“They?” you cut in.

“The recovery team,” he repeats, making you groan. “Or whoever got here first. I don’t know what the plan was, but this—” he nods toward you, “—isn’t how you debrief someone coming out of hypersleep, sorry.”

You stare at him, the earlier annoyance settling back in. 

What are you going to do with him?

[pixlluv]

no, i love you more! H.jihoon

pairing: bf!jihoon x gf!reader

genre: fluff, smau, crack, established relationship

TW(s): cursing, slightly suggestive in one slide

a/n: requested by @jellyluvsjihoon !

[hoonhoonzz-42]

tws angst tropes

಄ pairing(s): shinyu x reader, dohoon x reader, youngjae x reader, hanjin x reader, jihoon x reader, kyungmin x reader

಄ genre: angst, hurt

಄ warnings: none

಄ synopsis: “your best hurts sometimes.” tws x reader with events leading up to their break up. some was unavoidable, some could have been changed by past actions, some could have been done better.

melon notes!

hola, melon signing back in. i was doing chemistry homework when i randomly thought of this even though i had another draft i was working on. i felt kinda angsty today so another angst it is… i hope you enjoy it! thank you!

shinyu

as the leader of tws, he had lots of responsibilities to bear, and you understood it. he had to make sure that things went according to plan all the time. but, your lifestyles were just too different. his schedule was always too busy for the two of you to meet up.

when you two meet up, you always have to be on edge to make sure no one recognises the both of you, and clearly you hated it. but you couldn’t tell him, what could you tell him? that you hated that he was doing his job? like that, you kept it inside and suffered for months.

on the days that you did meet up, he would constantly be worrying about his schedules and the upcoming comeback that they have to prepare for. it always made you wonder why you two even met up for.

the lack of communication between the two was what cut that string that connected you two, so you both just let it go. there was barely any quality time spent when you two were together, so there was no point in holding on.

“yuya, i can’t do this anymore.”

“i know. i’m sorry i couldn’t be a better boyfriend to you.”

dohoon

despite the both of you being idols and both of your schedules always never matching up, the two of you still tried your best to make things work. texting and calling often, meeting up, or just making some time for the other.

one day, when the two of you were out on a date, maybe you were just a little careless, and you two were spotted by a sasaeng fan.

it was a cruel lesson, that love can’t solve everything.

things went downhill. pictures were taken, tabloids spread like wildfire. protest trucks lined up outside your companies, hate comments on every post and video, even death threats started coming in.

both of your mental health might have hit the limit, and your members being worried too. that one picture destroyed their dreams, love and themselves. they both knew that once they broke up, everything would come to an end, and everything would be resolved.

“dohoon, i can’t take this anymore, let’s break up…?”

“promise me, in another life, (name)?”

“in another life, dohoon.”

youngjae

youngjae somehow always made you feel like you were the only one who cared about your relationship, even if he didn’t mean to. every time you try to show that you care with something simple, maybe asking him about his day, he reply’s with short words and dryly.

everything has to be initiated by you. asking him to go out on dates, going out on your anniversary, literally everything. “maybe he’s just awkward at these kind of things”. that was the mindset you tried to keep up.

but from some point onwards, it just couldn’t anymore.

on dates, he wouldn’t really look you in the eye, much less talk to you. he wouldn’t take out his phone and play games or message his members, leaving you there not knowing what to do at all.

never once in this relationship had you truly felt that he cared about you. never once have you seen him put any effort into this relationship.

so you stopped trying. maybe he really tried. maybe he really cared. maybe he really loves me. you couldn’t think that way anymore. he made you feel unloved, that he didn’t care about you, so you stopped trying to make him, and convince yourself that he does.

“there’s no saving this relationship anymore, so let’s end this.”

“…”

hanjin

both of you were doing well as high school students in china preparing for gaokao. you had a healthy relationship, a boyfriend that really cared and loved you.

nothing can go wrong.

until one night, you and hanjin were taking a stroll in the park nearby, when he suddenly stopped walking, making you turn around to face him, only to see that expression that he makes only when he truly has something important to say.

“i’m going to south korea to become an idol.”

when you heard those words, you didn’t know how to react, but somehow, you managed to get your voice out, “good for you.”

you both had agreed long ago that if one day, one of you had to leave for far away, you wouldn’t try for a long-distance relationship. you both knew that both of you wouldn’t be able to keep it up.

on the day you went to send him off at the airport, bidding your final goodbye to him, you said, “goodbye hanjin, let’s break up. and i hope you get to fulfil your dream.”

with that, he turned around, glancing once more at you, before it was goodbye for forever. on the plane, the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. on the car, hers could only fall silently as she stared out the window, watching his plane take off.

maybe if you had stopped him, things would have been different. but how could you stop him from pursuing his dream? who were you to even do that?

jihoon

him being an idol, he has to practise a lot. but he was more extreme than anyone else in that sense. he practised more than anyone else, being a perfectionist, he never let a mistake of his slide, and wouldn’t stop until he got it right.

jihoon would stay at the studio until midnight, and leave before you even woke up. there was no interaction at home despite sharing one.

on the days you pick him up from the studio, you end up having to wait for hours before he would finally agree to leave, but only because you really started to get mad at him. you knew him well, and you knew how passionate he was about dancing and doing his job. you couldn’t stop him from that.

but it was really going too far. he would leave you on delivered or read for hours when he was too focused, replying only hours later.

you hated being the second choice in his life. why couldn’t you be the first? why does he have to prioritise dancing over you?

maybe you were just not the right person for him. he needed someone who would support his passions, while you needed someone who would make you feel like his first choice.

“hoon, why do i always have to be the second choice in your life?”

“what do you mean? you are-”

“i am. i always have been, and i can’t take it anymore, so i’m leaving.”

kyungmin

maybe it was because he was the eldest sibling at home. maybe that’s why he feels this sense of responsibility in everything. maybe that’s why always tries to resolve conflicts, and shoulder everything on his own.

in the early days of the relationship, every time you asked out of concern if he was alright, he would always reply with “i’m fine.” you didn’t try to force yourself in and make him open the door to his heart, thinking that he would eventually open up to you.

but even as months go by, he never tried to. every time you tried to get him to do so, he would always just brush it off or just change the subject.

did he not trust you? did he find you unreliable? did he think of you as someone he couldn’t confide in?

maybe he really cared, maybe he really tried, but maybe he also really didn’t want to burden you with the things that seemed little to him.

but you couldn’t do this any longer either. even if he tried his best. but sometimes, his best hurts more than anything else.

“kyungmin, please stop shutting me out…”

“i’m not.”

“you are! why can’t you just tell me your troubles? if this is how you are going to be in the future too, when we are older and married, i’d rather just end this now.”

melon’s afterwords!

i highkey felt so bad when i was writing dohoon and kyungmin’s. i think i really did youngjae dirty in this one too. anyways, melon signing out and i hope you enjoyed it!

credits to the owners of the pictures. do not copy or plagiarize my works!

back to my page! . masterlist

[hoonhoonzz-42]

sunset with my best friend lover - jihoon.

಄ pairing(s): non-idol jihoon x reader

಄ genre: fluff!

಄ warnings: none!

಄ synopsis: jihoon and (name) have been best friends ever since they met in middle school where they got close being each other’s seatmates. and ever since then, they were inseparable. years have passed, and they’ve both changed, but their relationship hasn’t, even though they’ve been crushing on the other since the day they met… jihoon finally finds his courage to confess?

melon notes!

melon’s back with another work! and this time it’s my favourite dancer boy jihoon aka my bias wrecker (yayy hoonhoonz supremacy!). if he’s not gonna be my boyfriend he needs to stop being so boyfriendable genuinely… anyways i had to write one for him so i hope you enjoy this story!

the moment the girl who sat next to him asked for his name, that’s when he fell in love with her. her voice was gentle and kind, her hair was long and smooth like silk, he was only a middle schooler who only knew what love was like from his parents, and never had he once thought that he too would experience it.

it was the first day of middle school, and john didn’t know anyone there. after getting to class, he just chose a seat by the window and hoped that no one would sit next to him. he rest his head on the table, about to go into a quick power nap.

that was until he felt someone poke him on his shoulder, he turned around, wondering who had disturbed his sleep.

when he first caught sight of her face, his heart started to beat faster, his face felt like it was burning and getting redder by every second that passed. he thought he was hallucinating that he saw an angel.

“hey…! could i sit next to you? you don’t seem to have any friends… just like me! let’s be friends!” the way she put her words so bluntly made jihoon laugh ever so slightly.

“sure!” he replied.

“i’m (name), what about you?” she asked.

(name), that’s a pretty name… suits someone as pretty as her.

seeing that jihoon was staring off to space, she quickly waved her hand before his face, bringing his attention back to her. “mister you-just-became-my-friend, what’s your name?” she asked again.

“oh… i’m jihoon. i like jellyfishes.”

(name) giggled at his statement, and seeing her smile really made him fall in love with her again.

since that day, the two of them only needed each other whether in school or outside. they would walk to school and go home together, eat dinner with each other’s families, and play games together. they were so close that people had even questioned if they were dating once in the second year of high school.

“jihoon, (name), are you two seriously not dating?” a classmate asked as he leaned his head backwards to observe the two.

at the moment, jihoon was standing behind (name) and tying her hair nicely like he had always done for her since middle school since she can’t do it nicely.

they looked at each other for a moment before replying at the same time, “nope!”

everyone was always suspicious of the two of them, but nothing could really prove that they were dating, so the gossips had died down eventually.

there was once when jihoon spotted (name) around the entrance of the school waiting for him to go home together. he ran faster after noticing her, calling out, “hey, (name)! let’s go—” his words cut off when he saw an upperclassman who seemed to be professing his feelings for her.

he could barely make out the words that he was saying, but he definitely heard, “i like you… please… my girlfriend…”

he was scared, he didn’t know how she would respond. he feared that things would change between the two of them.

unfortunately, he couldn’t hear her response but judging by the guy’s expression, it seemed like it didn’t go well for him. then, she spotted him, and waved her hand in a big motion to call him to hurry up, with that same smile that he fell for all those years ago.

he quickened his pace, and it the blink of an eye, he was walking down the same path with her once again. he was still curious about how she responded to the confession, and so he asked, “hey… didn’t that guy from just now confess to you? how… how did you respond to it?”

he couldn’t hide his worry, with his face all glum, and she noticed, like every time she noticed something wrong with him. “i rejected him.”

upon hearing those three words, he couldn’t help but smile brightly, feeling extremely relieved. boy did she find his reaction so cute, and she couldn’t help herself from pinching his cheek.

“you’re so cute.”

“hey stop that!” he swatted her hand to pretend that it was annoying, but it secretly made him really happy.

three years later.

another three years had gone by, and that’s another three years of him being in love with the same girl and never telling her his feelings.

they were both in universities now, even though they go to the same school, their schedules weren’t exactly the same, so they didn’t see each other as much.

but their routine remained the same, they always walked home together. if the one’s classes would end later, the other would hang out and wait at the cafe nearby for the other to finish and from there they would walk home together.

on one of the days when they were walking home, he suddenly got the urge to want to go to the beach.

“hey, we should go to the beach on saturday.”

“all of a sudden?”

“yeah.”

and then came saturday afternoon, there they were at the beach. he dragged her by the arm and threw her into the ocean, splashing water at her. to get her revenge, she kicked the water at him too, accidentally kicking some sand too.

“hey, that’s foul play!” he exclaimed.

“too bad!” (name) argued back, sticking her tongue out at him.

after hours of playing in the water and building sandcastles, people slowly started leaving one by one, but the two just sat on their mat, admiring the sun as it slowly started to set. she had rested her head on her shoulder, and he just let her.

his heart raced, heat rushing to his cheeks. somehow he just knew, his instincts told him to:

if i don’t confess now, when am i ever going to do it?

he gently lifted her head with his head, causing her to turn and look at him. “what’s wrong?”

his heartbeat was loud, so loud that he thought she could hear it too. nerves overwhelmed him, he couldn’t get the words out of his mouth.

“i love you.”

the words came out faster than he could even process them. they just kept pouring out like a flood, “i always have. i loved you since middle school.”

she could believe her ears, han jihoon told her that he loved him? her best friend? tears threatened to fall from her eyes, and sure enough, she couldn’t contain them before they came pouring out.

he panicked, did he say it in a bad way? did she hate it? does she not want to be friends anymore?

(name) grabbed his arm with the strength she could summon into hers, she wiped her tears away, giving him that same dang smile again, before she gave her answer, “i love you too, since middle school.”

his eyes widened, thinking that his ears played tricks on him, but they didn’t. she enveloped him into her arms for a hug, and he reciprocated it.

they stayed that way for a while, they only pulled apart after they noticed the pink orange sunset that was just way to hard to not look and admire.

he hesitantly asked, “can… i kiss you?”

she nodded, and he brought his hand to cup her cheeks, pulling her closer, as they leaned into each other’s touch, and finally when their lips collided, it felt like time had stopped, and only they were the only ones there, basking in the sunset with their lover.

bonus!

“wait, i’m really curious though, when did you start liking me?” jihoon asked as he held her hand while walking down the path to get home.

she smiled playfully, grinning harder than ever.

(name)’s pov from the first day of middle school.

i entered the classroom, feeling lonely, not knowing a single soul there. everyone had already gotten into their own groups of friends. i guess i’m spending middle school lonely.

i took the only empty seat, which was next to a boy who appeared to be sleeping. his hair looked nice, i wonder what his face looks like.

out of curiosity, i gently poked him, causing him to turn and look at me. i was surprised, his face was more than enough to make me fall in love.

it was the first time my heart beat so fast, it was the first time i felt like that.

is this what they call love?

“hey…! could i sit next to you? you don’t seem to have any friends… just like me! let’s be friends!” i was internally slapping myself on the inside, thinking that i screwed up really bad.

“sure.”

and those words mark the beginning of her love story.

back to the present.

she giggled as she recalled her youthful memory, before running off and shouted, “not telling you!”

melon’s afterwords!

i hope you enjoyed that one! once again, i am writing this at midnight so i’m gonna go and sleep right after this! jihoon is so boyfriend material honestly why are there no guys like that in my school… ㅠㅠ

credits to the owners of the pictures. please don’t copy or plagiarize my work!

back to my page! . masterlist

[coupsalchemy]

Cat & Mouse

Requests - Hey!! I’m not sure if i can still request but if i can, could you please write a tooth rotting fluff for Woozi?? Please don’t change the au just idol au. With prompt 5 and 9 mix please. Could you also make woozi persona like the one from your woozi fic??? Specifically the teasing part to reader.😗😗I really enjoyed reading it. I’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense. It’s actually my first time requesting. Thank uu.

Tags: Woozi x f.reader, fluff, friends to lovers, idol au

Warnings: swearing, some physical affection (??)

Word Count: 2.6k

C's note: - Anon, I am so sorry for taking so long, and i couldn't think of the way to incorporate the prompt 9. im sorrryyyy!!! this was written in december (so you can see that it has some christmas vibes going on) but i was hating it and now i tweaked it a little but still unsatisfied with it. but i hope you like it. Happy reading everyone!! Please leave your thoughts in comments/asks/reblogs.

Prompts are from @/celestialwrites.

“In the kitchen!” Your mom shouts.

Pulling on the oven mitts, you square your shoulder looking at the puffed up cookies through the oven glass. Your father breathes down your neck, patiently waiting for you to take his favorite cookies out.  

“A little space, please.” You glare over your shoulder, annoyed at the lack of personal space. “I promised you that you are going to be the first one to taste them even when you shouldn’t,” you hiss only to his ears, checking over your mother who is busily setting the table and missing the secret dealings between father and daughter. 

He stretches, finally moving away with a broad smile and a happy whistle, spotting someone and excitedly pushes through your mother, your brother and drops a kiss over your grandma’s head before tackling the newcomer in a bear hug. 

You smile to yourself, opening the oven door, carefully balancing the heavy tray with a single hand, quickly depositing it on top of the counter with a loud thud and sending cutlery down from its holder. 

Your mom hits your shoulder passing by, “pick it up.” She rushes to the guest, peeling her husband off the poor man. “I’m sorry, Jihoonie. You know how he is.”

The chocochips on the cookies melted the right way, watering your mouth, you throw the mitten over the spilled cutlery and carefully pick up one cookie only to drop it back, huffing at your burnt fingers. The entire room clicks their tongue, shaking their heads, muttering typical. 

Jihoon is standing between your two what-is-personal-space parents, nodding his head to whatever your mom is biting his ear off. A review on his recent album. The same album that has been playing since the start of dinner preparations. 

You suck your finger leaning against the counter watching him watching you. The signs for help are as bright as sun, the twitch of the lip corner, his hands curled into fists, and the constant shifting of his weight from one leg to another. He would have been saved, no, he would have never been in that tight spot, you would have swooped in and be his knight if only he replied to your texts. 

Your grandma, ever the observant of her surroundings, quickly catches on to the secret communication between you and your friend. She chuckles to herself, shaking her head and goes back to her knitting. You push yourself off the counter, walking towards the small crowd, dropping a kiss onto your grandma’s head, and join your parents. “Mom, he said the last review you gave him is unhelpful. Spare the poor child, please.”

Red fills your mom’s cheeks feeling betrayed by her favorite child whom she is willing to swap you with. Jihoon’s jaws slack at how easily you threw him under the bus. Your father lets out a hearty laugh looking at his wife, and jumping in to pull her leg. 

“That’s not true, mom.” Jihoon tries to do damage control, “it was really helpful. She is lying. I would never,” he closes his eyes as he shakes his head once, putting a hand over his heart, “say that.” 

She melts at the puppy eyes, and his sincere words. You and your father snicker under your breaths, exchanging a knowing look. 

“I’m forgiving you only because you came home after six months,” your mom gently pulls his ear, “you are only a star outside this house. I need you here for every celebratory dinner.”

Your father silently sneaks off to the lonely tray of baking goods. You gesture for him to eat only a small bite. Forgoing all of your words he gobbles up one entire cookie, and you rush towards him, chastising, trying to pull out the remnants of cookies out of his hands. 

A head pops up to your left, Jihoon casually leans over, his hair brushing into your face, tickling your nose and lips, he grabs one of your cookies, biting into it and moans as he straightens up. Crumbles stick to his lips, his tongue coming out to swipe them, failing miserably. Another bite, he closes his eyes in bliss, groaning. 

“Who gave Nana a cookie?” Your mom thunders slamming a pot onto the table. 

You snap your attention from your best friend to the culprits. Your father buries his nose into a newspaper sitting on the table while your grandma chews onto the sweet snack. One minute you are distracted and your family is already in chaos. 

Jihoon chuckles beside you. “Missed them.” 

“Only them?” 

He throws his head back, humming under his breath thinking, “yeah. Only them.” 

You glare at him, shoving him and grab a seat next to your brother. “I’m disowning Lee Jihoon and you all should too.” 

The chatter at the table calms down for a second, your family blinks at your words and goes back to arguing how no one in this house should be allowed to eat sweets for the sake of their health. 

Jihoon taps on your brother’s shoulder who gives an unimpressed look and stands up with his plate, grumbling under his breath. “No respect for the youngest in this house.” 

Jihoon grins at your scowl like he just won an award. He steals the food from your plate, “Nana, love the sweater.” 

Your grandma perks up at the praise, one thing about your family is you love praises as much as your sweets, she shows him the key points of the sweater, pointing towards the little heart patterns. 

“I’ll make you the exact same one.” She reaches over patting the table instead of his hand due to the distance. “You two can have a couple sweaters then for this winter.” 

“With him?” You retch. “Why don’t you make one for his friend, Jeonghan? I can match with that beautiful person.” 

Jihoon is now scowling at your words, the small smile dropping. A frown line appears between his eyebrows. You ignore it, he deserves these snide remarks. How can he expect you to take him back easily after one month of painful silence. You were losing your mind, obsessively checking up on his news to know his whereabouts. He used to text you detailing about the next stop of his concert, how his album preparations are going, heck, he even texts about his gym workouts that grossed you out. Who wants to know about how sweaty his shirt became after just an hour of workout? The visuals still haunt you. 

“Cat and mouse.” Your grandma chuckles under her breath. “Cat and mouse.” Affection curls her words, and it warms your heart. 

She knows you the best, if not, more than you. Her adoring your best friend since childhood makes you love Jihoon a little more. If she loves him then he must be the best man in the entire world. Every other man, your ex boyfriends, are always met with a frown and a snarky remark. You stopped bringing them home after one of them actually cried. 

“Hyung, need five tickets for your next concert.” Your brother looks up from his phone, “this time I need better seats. Last time I couldn’t even see you properly.” 

“Why five?” You cross your arms across your chest. 

“There’s this girl,” he starts, and the whole house stops, he rolls his eyes, “I’m not going to bring her home. Remember the time I brought one? You guys pounced on her. Poor girl. She must be having nightmares till now.” 

“I just asked about her well being!” Your mother jumps straight into defence mode. This time, your father joins in support. “I can’t with this generation of kids. So sensitive to everything.” 

“Five tickets.” Your brother points his hand to your baffled friend and goes back to his phone. 

You shove the crispy potato into your mouth enjoying the distress emitting from Jihoon. His social battery is already in the red zone. 

He knocks his knees against yours under the table. Your heart skips a beat, and you try to suppress your giddiness. You know the signs, next comes his begging. 

“You are enjoying this, aren’t you?” 

“Very.” 

He sneaks a glance at your mother before dumping half of his food onto your plate. He bargains before any protest leaves your mouth, “I’ll do anything. Anything.”  

His eyes widen seeing the sparkle in your eyes. “Anything that’s legal and not morally corrupt.” 

“Why, Jihoon, when did I ever lead you astray?” 

“Drop the act. No one believes you. Especially not me.” 

In contrast to his biting words, his eyes hold tenderness, soft smile and his press of leg into yours. You rest your arm on the back of his chair, crowding him, he inclines back, maintaining two centimetres of gap. 

“Why did you ignore me?” You tilt your head, looking at his face as he tries to move away from you. “Just because you got a girl doesn’t mean you can forget the only human who put up with all your phases. Hm? Should I remind you of the time you threw up at the head of our department? Or the time when you lost your tooth and I have to—” 

He nudges you back by his finger against your forehead. “I’m not ignoring you. And I don’t have a girl. If I did, she would have been sitting right next to me.” 

“I definitely saw your pics with a girl in a gossip article.” You narrow your eyebrows, remembering the picture, he did have his arm around a pretty girl, and she was all cozy in his arms as they walked down the street. He would never allow anyone into his arms, just like he shoved you away now. That only means, you gasp, “you nasty piece of shit. How can you get photographed with your fuck buddy.”

Your grandma mirrors your gasp, dropping the sweater and glaring at Jihoon. “Pass me the salt.” She orders your mom, and starts throwing salt at Jihoon, “be gone, demon. Leave my sweet boy alone.” 

“What? What happened?” Your father finally drops the newspaper, trying to catch the gossip between you, Jihoon and your grandma. “Tell me.” 

You mumble a sorry to Jihoon. “Nana, stop. You are adding too much salt to the dishes. Mom is going to cry at this rate.” 

On cue your mom realises that grandma, indeed, is throwing salt more to the dishes rather than at Jihoon. She scurries to her and grabs the shaker. “I spent five hours in the damn kitchen!”

“Language.” Whole house choruses. 

You grab Jihoon’s hand, dragging him away from the table. He lets out a long breath, finally, you are saving him from your family. You forgive him a little after your slipup. 

You climb up the stairs, the wood squeaking under your each step. The wall full of your family pictures pass through a blur, your childhood family trips, graduation photos and Jihoon throwing a peace sign while you throw your arm around him smiling brightly. He is part of your family and you don’t want it any other way. 

“This picture is old now.” You turn around to Jihoon, pointing at the photo frame. He snaps his eyes away from your ass to said photo frame. You slap his face gently, “pervert. Didn’t you have fun just a few days ago?” 

He cups your mouth, pressing your head to his chest. “You already ruined my reputation. Shut up, please.” 

You grumble under his hand, he shoves you into your room, shutting the door behind him. 

“Oh,” you turn around, caging him in, “brought me to the darkness, what are your wicked plans baby boy?” You press your body against his, his breath hitting your cheek, “I’m not that kind of girl,” you lower your voice, “need a ring before you do any—”

He flicks the light switch on, his lips pressed into a thin line, unimpressed. “Shut up and move.” 

You stick your tongue out, his eyes are quick to track the motion, a smile adorning his lips, you flick his nose before giving him the space he asked for. 

The bed bounces beneath you as you plop down on it. Jihoon is still at the entrance of your room, eyes on you, his finger on his nose. You give a cheshire smile, succeeding in making him speechless, yet again. 

“Come here, my good good fuck boy,” you pat the bed next to you, the smile slowly fades seeing the change in his demeanour. A familiar yet unfamiliar darkness oozes from him, it’s not the first time you have seen it, always sneaking up during the moments you two are confined in a room, just like now, or in a bar when the table gets loud and everyone’s in their own world, you sense him, and he will always be looking at you. 

Jihoon pushes himself off the door, the strange tension licks up your neck, his eyes never leave yours, something dark brewing beneath them. Air knocks out of your lungs, as he nears, climbing onto the bed, taking his rightful place beside you, slipping under the covers. 

You turn away to the ceiling, wondering—he always makes you wonder, what if you two didn’t have the boundary titled friends keeping you apart. 

His hand circles around your waist, pulling you closer to him. This. It doesn’t add up. You are adult enough to know this isn’t how a friend behaves, not even if they are your best friend. 

He shouldn’t be pulling you to his chest when you are trying to wiggle away, his nose brushing yours, and those lips an inch away. 

“You were saying.” His voice is rough, like the video he sent you of him doing pushups, the grunts and the rough edges. 

You gulp, intertwining your legs with his, and the inch gap closes, but his lips land on top of your head as you snuggle into his chest. You love being in his arms, the warmth he provides, the tough muscles making you want to bury in his chest. 

The boundary fades as his hand slips beneath your sweater, his fingertips tickling your skin with its light touch. But he has girls outside of you. He has relationships, you are not sure if that’s what it’s called, sexual relationships maybe, and you know they will and has given him an experience he could never forget. Who are you in front of them? 

You pull away your leg that is squashed between his’, you nuzzle into his chest one last time before completely pulling away from him. You are a nobody. Just a friend. 

Jihoon lets out a disgruntled sound, his hand slips from your waist to your ass, squeezing it once, his eyes dilating at your surprised gasp, he pulls you back into his arms. 

“Jihoon?” Your voice is a squeak, still surprised, still shaking from the gesture he just did. “What—what are you—what are we?”

Jihoon lowers his face so he is staring right at you, wets his lips before saying, “we could be whatever you want.” 

“Friends?” 

The frown on his face sends a shiver down your spine, he growls spitting, “no. Friends don’t touch, sweetheart, friends don’t fly from the other side of the world just to spend one night in your bed. I want to be your boyfriend,” he rests his leg over yours, crowding your entire being with his body, “and your friend. I want you.” 

You find yourself nodding, and he doesn’t waste a second as he is already kissing you, taking out the years of pining in one night. 

—

“Cat and mouse.” Your grandma smiles to herself, weaving a heart pattern. She glances at her husband’s picture on the mantel, missing him a little more after seeing the two kids dancing around each other. Just like they used to.

[noniesgummysmile]

can we go home?

🤎 jihoon x f!reader 🤎 0.7k 🤎 playing with jihoon's hair 🤎 requested by @gent1es3xy <33 for my 100 followers event! 🤎 don't play with weights folks, it's not safe. reader is a menace. it's really just fluff tbh. jihoon is fluffy.

Jihoon's not done working out, but you'd really like to head home.

🤎

“Can we go now?” you whine quietly, pouting your best, but Jihoon shakes his head, tossing his hair out of his eyes.

“I still have half my routine left. Sorry. Go walk on the treadmill or something.” And he sets his water bottle down and walks away.

The nerve.

So you follow him across the gym.

Jihoon glances up from the weight rack as you lean against it. His brows furrow.

“What are you –”

“Just do your workout. Ignore me.” You smile. Jihoon side-eyes you, but picks up his weights.

He readies his stance, then starts his set of weighted lunges.

You wait.

Then, as he’s settling into the stretch, you lean over and ruffle his hair.

He loses his balance and almost topples over before he can catch himself. You bite your lip, holding back a smile as he shoots you a glare.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. I’m just waiting.”

Jihoon narrows his eyes. “Wait somewhere else.”

But he picks his weights back up and starts back into his lunges.

And again, you reach out and bury your fingers in his soft, fluffy hair.

This time the weights hit the ground, and he shoots to his feet, glaring again.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop – touching my hair.”

He’s frowning, but there’s an adorable tinge of red creeping over his cheeks. You have to fight to keep your face neutral as he glances around the gym. There’s a few other people. Not too many.

You just blink, looking as innocent as you can, and Jihoon grunts and returns to his weights. His muscles really do look good, flexing as he adjusts his grip, and you consider grabbing his bicep this time, but you’ve already gone this far with the hair. And his hair is fluffy, and you do want to bury your hands in it.

And also head home. You would like to head home.

So you inch closer again and slip both your hands into his hair, scratching light circles against his scalp, and his breath hitches so hard he starts coughing.

“Stop!” he hisses between hacks, struggling to set the weights down and get his feet under him. People are looking now, curious glances darting through exercise machines, and Jihoon’s cheeks are flaming by the time he finally regulates his breathing again. He grabs the weights and doesn’t look at you as he nearly slams them back on the rack.

“What –” you start, but Jihoon shakes his head.

“We’re leaving. Come on.”

He stalks off towards your stuff in the corner, swiping both your bag and his into his arms. You hurry to catch up, reaching to take your bag off his hands, but he tugs it back and slings it over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry?” you say as he shoves his hip into the door to open it. He just jerks his chin out into the parking lot and waits until you step outside to let the door shut.

It’s not until you’re both in the car that he lets out a long groan and drops his head against the top of the wheel.

“You,” he mutters, “are going to be the death of me.”

You let out a small breath. The tension drops from your shoulders. He turns his head enough to shoot you an exasperated but undeniably fond look, and you smile sheepishly and shrug.

“I wanted to go home.”

“No kidding.”

Jihoon pauses then, scanning your face with something unreadable in his eyes. You look back for a moment, and then it’s too much, and your gaze drops to your lap.

“Hey.”

You look up to find him leaning in, his hand suddenly hot under your chin, and then he’s kissing you – rough at first, fingers gripping your jaw, but then it melts into something softer, his lips moving gently against yours in a way that has your mind reeling.

When he finally breaks away, it takes you a moment to open your eyes.

“There,” Jihoon says, satisfaction dripping from his voice.

He drops another smack on your lips, loud noise included, then sits back and starts the car. You blink, trying to wake up your brain. “So, do you wanna go home badly enough that picking up dinner isn’t an option?”

Oh. So he’s being normal now. Two can play at that game. “Ooh, no. I want Chick-fil-A.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smile as he pulls out of the parking lot, reaching up to curl your fingers around the back of his neck, and you spend the rest of the drive home with your hand in his hair.

[coupsalchemy]

Follow | Ch.1 The Descent

summary: Jihoon hears about the destruction of his prized creations, blood trickling down the green fields he carefully crafted, wars blooming in the regions he built peace, forcing him out of his home to find the destroyer, who is none other than you, his wife. pairing: Ptah!Jihoon x Sekhmat!reader genre: supernatural, romance, angst, fluff, violence, wars warnings for this chapter: mentions of wars, destruction, blood wc: 1.5k

c's note: First of all, thank you @sailorsoons and @daechwitatamic for hosting sands of time collab! It was a good experience to write something out of my comfort zone and also for answering all my questions. Thank you @straylightdream for the amazing banner, I can't thank you enough for saving me and others from my horrendous banner designing skills!! thank you @haologram for giving me ideas on how to implement ptah's power of words through arts and books!!!

Finally, to my H, for always reading my stuff and pushing me to write more. And jayyy @choco-scoups for listening to my rambles!!!

I'm sorry if this story sucks, it is really my first time writing this theme!!

disclaimer: this fic does not reflect the actual story of ptah. this is entirely fictional!

ptah - god of the creation

sekhmet - goddess of the war

ma'at - goddess of harmony, balance and justice

ra - god of the sun

apoph - deity of chaos, darkness

The sun is shining down bright and hot. A young woman dressed in a white long dress, steps out of her carriage, her heels digging into the sand. 

Humidity presses down, creating a subtle unease under her skin. She pulls out a small cloth, running it down her bare hands, wiping down the sweat, and wishing for a cool wind to balance this hot burning sun. She hands down the cloth to a man standing behind her, accepting it gracefully, and tucking it in his pocket. 

She squints at the sun shining in its full radiant form—angry, even, considering every surface turned into a furnace under the wrath of Ra, god of the Sun. He won again, the sun rose again, the harmony in the world balanced. For now. 

“For how long.” She mutters to herself, shaking the sand particles off of her robes, the wind picks up, dragging the sand along with it to dance. “Does he have to live in Memphis? Hours of travel under the scorching sun.” She flicks her hair back, the ostrich feather in her hair swaying to the wind as if Shu just wants to toy with her. 

She grits her teeth, making her way into the sand temple, pausing at the entrance letting the guards do their regular check. 

The temple turns cooler as she passes along its garden, pausing at the plants, herbs and flowers she has never seen before, bending down touching the delicate petals, watching them regain their vitality, blooming to their fullest, and ruffling her fingers with their petals. She smiles down at them, closing her eyes and feeling their harmony, calming her insides even if that’s for a mere second. 

“I don’t know where he finds time to create,” she straightens up, giving one last look at the new creations before squaring her shoulders and climbing the stairs to the building. 

Her assistant opens his mouth to answer, only to be waved off. Her long robes sweep the floor as she passes through the long hallways, the click of her heels echoing across the sacred temple. The artwork hung along the walls encapsulates her attention, pulling her away from her paranoia, birthing curiosity in her heart. Her confident steps falter, dragging to a pretty artwork of a woman in the warfield. 

Details of the swords, the armors and the men all drag her eyes to the woman dressed in brave red fighting the troops in a losing battle. One woman fighting with the entire world. 

She closes in, standing directly opposite to it, her eyebrows drawn in concentration. Her palms sweat, eyes spanning across the artwork in a rush, the adrenaline of being surrounded by hundreds of men, not seeing a way out, panic from fighting them all alone, everyone prowling around to get to her heart. As if she’s being transported into the artwork, fighting in a red dress, holding a weapon and determined to see it through to the end. 

“Ma’at.” Her assistant’s voice drags her back to the sand temple. 

The gentle breeze cradling her warm sweaty face. She steps back from the artwork, dropping her gaze from the red woman, too fear stricken. The rays of sun fall across the hallway, always sneaking up on her reaching the dark places, illuminating the way.

“Ptah is here.” 

She exhales shakily, thrown off kilter. The temple of Memphis is home to uncountable pieces of books, artworks and scripts, unknown to mankind, each one holding to a story, a myth as the humans call it, and a prediction as the Deities fear. 

Ma’at dares to look over her shoulder, at the woman, and hope, no, determined to see it through that the myth stays as myth. 

Her shadows grow longer as she nears the grand hall, the place where Ptah holds his assembly. No one can enter it without his permission, not even an ant can walk past without his knowing. The Creator knows all, given he is the most benevolent of all the gods, kinder and lethal.  

She stands before the doors, decorated with intricate words and symbols. Too far complex to understand in the current state of her mind. The artwork has thrown her off balance, and she is aware of the new war waging in the east. 

The doors open to an elegant hall, decorated in the sage green, as she steps into the room, her worries fall behind her. A sense of calm overpowering her anxiousness, she squares her shoulders, rises her chin, remembering who she is. She is Ma’at, the goddess of balance, justice and harmony. She can, will, do whatever it takes to restore the balance in the world. Even if that means she has to step against Ptah. 

Ptah is sitting on his throne. A scroll in his hands, and a frown line on his forehead. Ma’at’s steps falter as she nears him, stopping when the servant stops. He steps away after announcing her arrival. 

Ma’at knew of Ptah, or Jihoon, as he kindly wants everyone to call him. The Creator of this world, in extension to even her, his words alone brought the world in existence. Too powerful, too vigilant and too vengeful. 

The sunlight slips past right through a crack, falling on Jihoon, illuminating his dark eyes as he reads the ends of the scroll before rolling it close. A lock of hair falls on his face, adding beauty to his already elegant features. Ma’at presses her lips in a thin line, reprimanding herself for going to dark places. 

Jihoon is married. And so in love with his wife. It is as much a universal fact as the Ra defeated Apophis every night and rose in the east every morning. Everyone knows Ptah loves his wife, and as the God of the Creation, no one wants to speak against his wife. 

The aftermath of his first and last war is still damaging, gruesome and cruel. As much as kinder he is to a man, relieving them of their pain, always listening to the prayers, he transforms the moment he steps into the battlefield. 

And it’s too much for Ma’at to repair the damage, to bring back the balance. She has to put out the flame even before it reaches its full potential. 

Jihoon looks up, addressing her presence with a mere nod. A servant shows her a place to sit. Ma’at adorns her seat, gripping onto its ledges for support. 

She sits straighter, remembering herself. “Hail to thee creator of the Universe, the ever benevolent listener even to a man, please accept my greetings.” 

Jihoon leans against the back of the throne, filling it out with his muscular build and commanding the air with his mere gesture of hand, accepting her greetings. 

Ma’at struggles to find her bearings, cowering under her pretentious shield, clutching for words that won’t set her off. 

“I.. I-I,” she stammers as his frown deepens, he must have known already why she is here, “I—”

His lips part, “speak.” 

And she couldn’t stop. “The wars, the calamities, and the destructions of your wonders, everything is bringing pain to the mortals. The food, cattle has become scarce, children starving and the men dying. Jihoon, my lord, this must come to a stop. Sekhmat, your wife, needs to stop before she burns the whole world.” 

Her mouth finds a break once she has spoken everything she is here for. She clasps her lips shut. She averts her gaze to the marble floors, watching in wonderment for a brief moment at the patterns that cover the entire expanse of the room. 

Rustling of clothes snaps her attention to the Man standing from his throne. She springs up from her seat, her heart pounding in her chest, reminding herself of the stories of Jihoon’s kindness. He won’t destroy her for carrying over the pleas of the suffering people. 

He exits the room, reaching for a different door from the one she came in. He stops before leaving, his sharp eyes on her, her heart sinks to her stomach seeing him open his mouth, fear binding her. One word from him is enough to destroy the world he built. His words hold power over this intricate, complex Universe he built. 

“I heard. You may leave.” 

Jihoon walks out of the hall. Ma’at stands in her place, still finding her bearings, and wondering if the calamity set upon mankind—his wife, will be stopped.