Summary: A thousand years ago you were married to the Sukuna, a mortal man with the power of a god. Bound to him, his "death" leads you to wander the world alone, against all odds. However...his spirit remains and was resurrected by an unknown boy...
Word Count: 1k-ish.
Warnings: Gn!reader, mentions of a past life & family arranging a marriage.
The days had begun to blur into one incoherent mess.
That wasn't too out of the ordinary. You couldn't be expected to remember every moment of every day, not when you had several lifetime's floating around between your synapses. The mundane and monotonous would naturally be forgotten to make room for the impactful and important memories. The one's you hold onto like your life depends on it and maybe in some way it did, life was mysterious in its ways.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that you had seen everything. Every advancement in every field from science to medicine, going from horse-drawn-buggies to vehicles and letters to text messages. Safe to say that nothing was a surprise anymore. What was life's great surprise now? In a thousand years you had seen and experienced everything, from the divine to the depraved.
Life had begun easy. Being only the child of simple country folk who took pride in their work, worshipping the gods in their own special way, you were given more freedom than most in your childhood. Father and Mother had let you wander the secret places of the village until the sun set and dinner was ready, fed and ready for bed you'd lay down on the comfortable cot they had purchased with the earnings from that season's harvest to let you dream the night away. Until he came, that fateful day where your parents made the decision to sacrifice you to the warlord baring down on their home and land. The ultimatum that sealed your fate was simple: you or them and being the pragmatic people they were chose themselves to save.
Now hundreds of years later you weren't sure you should curse or bless them for their decision because that choice set you on the path to where you are now, browsing the morning market like the days of old with the luxuries of the modern age.
That's when you were made aware of it. The creeping cold of being watched, of being found. The inescapable reality of a person exhaling their hot breath against the back of your neck at an angle your neck simply could not turn towards. The feel of a large palm bearing its weight against the curve of your spine with the addition of three more to various hand-holds across the expanse of your body.
"Have you been well, my sweet spouse? The years haven't been kind to you, have they?"
The deep chuckle of a man thoroughly sadistic in the uncaring manner of which they dispatch those he deems maggots, a man changed, a curse upon the world.
Your husband: Sukuna Ryōmen.
"Don't tell me you've forgotten. Wouldn't it be a pity if you've forgotten your husband?"
And when you understandably twist your head around to venture a guess why he of all beings was behind you at a random stall? There was no one. Not the copious amounts of people shopping for their meal ingredients, not even the shopkeepers or the one that was impatiently waiting for you to purchase that fruit and strangely enough: no husband in sight.
An odd hallucination perhaps?
You were being followed, very conspicuously might I add. Clearly they thought themselves to be a master spy by the way they hid behind dumpsters, peeked around poles and made themselves the most obvious person in the ocean of people. Pure lunacy or a power move you weren't sure of yet, the garment they wore a dead giveaway to their intentions. The deep navy uniforms of the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College. A sorcerer and not a good one if their sneaking skills alluded to their abilities.
Far more inconspicuously you took a look at the figure with the reflection of a shop's window pane. A young man, average, pink undercut and overall nondescript but there was something familiar about his aura. A sinister darkness that was foreign in his kind features. That couldn't be natural. Sepia shaded orbs trained on your figure with a burning intensity that would set your soul on fire with its pinpoint directness. The more important matter was why a sorcerer was following you. To your knowledge they believed Sukuna was a myth and your marriage to him had been forgotten in the past seven hundred years so was it superstition that led him to follow you? Or did you have a curse attached to you and he was doing his job?
Odd, to say the least.
"Excuse me? Uhh, hello? Uhm..'scuse me."
A hand clamped down on your shoulder from the opposite direction you had been watching the sorcerer. Turning back around what did you find? The very same magic user you had been spying. How did he move so quickly? That was a split moment and he was behind you. How did he manage that?
"Yes?" You responded, face rather devoid of emotions while taking a closer inspection at the sorcerer. Upon closer look he was indeed a boy, in the middle of his teen years at the most yet experience had aged his soul considerably. The windows of his eyes closer to that of a wizened old monk rather than a bright-eyed pubescent teenager. The oddest feature that stood out were the dark tattoo's across the bottom edges of his eye sockets, rather distinguished against the otherwise blank face. Fashion statements got stranger and stranger with each passing century.
The boy appeared to have a goal in mind as his eyes searched your face, your eyes and the windows to your soul. Whatever he was looking for either wasn't there or he kept the discovery to himself because after his hand was removed he sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. "Oops, sorry! Thought you were someone else."
"No harm done, honest mistake."
Without another word the sorcerer boy turned on his heel and retreated in the direction he came from. How he had managed to double back and come from your blind spot was still a mystery, there must've been more than meets the eye on that boy.
Yuji Itadori returned to the First Year dorm hall and slid the door closed behind him as he entered. It was late, much later than when he was expected to be in bed and resting. If anyone had noticed his absence then he'd be in a world of pain. What could be worse than the punishment's Gojo could think up? Well, there was one thing. That tattooed psychopath using his body as a vessel. Whoever that person was had set him off. The control he originally thought he had on the cursed spirit had hung by a thread, a battle on who got to control his body raging on. It was a stalemate, mostly. He had control over the vast majority of his facilities but that uppy bastard had gotten his hand in the metaphorical doorway and pried himself into the driver's sleg. Taking over his legs and waltzing up to them and without a plan. They were lucky he had regained himself right as he touched them, what would've happened if he hadn't? There were moments he went on and on about slaughtering women and children like maggots but was the sight of them enough to cause a sudden bloody rampage? Apparently so.
The transition to phase into the mindscape that kept Sukuna contained was seamless. As if he had walked to another section of a home, could be considered as easy as breathing but whenever he was there it was not because he went willingly. He was summoned.
On the pinnacle of the mountain of bones, perched upon on the throne, Yuji noticed there was a crazed grin on the very man's face. Revealing the pearly whites amidst his bloody gums, eyes wide as he leaned forward. Not looking at his host, quite the opposite but something beyond him. Shoulders cloaked in a white robe rose and fell in time with his maniacal giggles, gleeful and relieved. It would be perturbing if he wasn't used to the grating sound by now. The reason why he was laughing was the disconcerting subject.
"Ahh, there you are, dearest spouse. How long will it take until you return to me?"
info: lee jihoon/gender neutral reader, pg, best friends to lovers au
genre: fluff, romance | word ct: 5.5k
warnings: none
summary: when it came to love, no one was prepared. not even jihoon, who could spend hours turning words into magic, especially when love was mysteriously delivered in the form of a letter to his locker.
note: heavily inspired by to all the boys I've loved before, but with a twist! no love triangles or anything like that, so just enjoy awkward people falling in love! and thank you to @dreamystuffers and @starlightjoong for taking a sneak peek and telling me what you think!
Lee Jihoon, a genius in many ways, was never good when it came to words. At least, not the spoken kind. The kind that you had to think up on the spot, responses, answers, comebacks, small talk, he was absolutely terrible at it. But if you gave him the time to think, to really dwell on his thoughts, he could create something truly beautiful. Which was why he preferred to express his feelings with letters. And while, yes, he could pen something magnificent, the next great classic novel perhaps, he typically kept his messages short and to the point. Much like the man himself.
There was one time that he wrote a “letter” that was simply—
F U C K Y O U
—printed out on seven separate sheets of paper and taped to a row of lockers. All in response to a teacher confiscating his iPod. No one could prove it was him, though, and nothing happened in response to it. He never admitted to his crimes, and despite it being painfully obvious who the author of the message was, there was no hard proof pointing to the culprit. It became the most well-known secret at their high school. And Lee Jihoon became somewhat of a living legend because of it.
The only one who knew the truth was you. His best friend. You were his go-to when it came to proof reading all of his letters. He was the writer, you were the editor. Half the time you were also a berating parent, chastising him for trying to assault people with words. Which was also why, more often than not, his letters never got sent. He would sit in his room for hours, writing letters that were either half the length of novels or only a few sentences long, and after giving it over to be edited, it would get tucked away in his desk drawer. Never to be seen or heard from again.
See, Jihoon was an emotional person. Not in the sense that most people would assume, he didn’t get offended easily, one mean comment wouldn’t leave him crying, he was simply—emotional. Whatever he was feeling, whether it be good or bad, it was powerful, sometimes overwhelming. So instead of erupting like a hormonal volcano, which he had already done plenty of, he put his emotions to paper. At the behest of his aforementioned best friend.
“You can’t go around yelling at people.” You began one afternoon just after entering high school. “Even if you’re writing it down, you’re still yelling at people.”
Jihoon, the definition of “hard to read”, was visibly pouting. “You’re the one who told me to write down how I feel. Now I can’t even send these to anyone?”
“I mean, you can.” You backpedalled. “I’m not your mother, despite Seokmin’s insistence. I can’t stop you from doing anything you’ve set your heart to. All I can do is advise you not to because you’re going to have a terrible few years here if everyone hates you.”
He clearly wasn’t thrilled by your logical response, but he admitted defeat anyway. “Fine. Don’t send the letters that I write. I get it. No one wants to read them.”
You groaned loudly. “You are so dramatic. I’m saying don’t send the literal hate mail to people. Don’t send the stuff you write to vent out your feelings. But if there’s something you want to say to someone, something that you can’t bring yourself to say out loud, by all means! Send the thing! I know you loathe the idea of talking to people, you also hate being misunderstood more.”
He also hated how well you knew him, not that he would ever say that out loud.
That was also something he wrote down in a letter, one he decided to send.
You crumpled it up immediately and threw it back at his face.
“Letters are powerful things, Jihoon.” You added. “They can break hearts, mend souls, and change lives with nothing more than words. Because words mean so many different things to so many different people. You just gotta say the right ones.”
At first, he was only humoring you. Honestly, he thought you completely senile until he gave it a shot. After spending hours hunched over his desk writing things no one else would see, he was starting to realize that maybe you had a point. Instead of roaming the halls shouting obscenities in his head, he was able to reassure himself by knowing he could write about it later. Even the smallest grievance, he would write it down. He would sometimes scribble it down on the margin of a textbook if he was feeling particularly overwhelmed in the middle of the day.
The letters became his therapy, his outlet, eventually he could stroll past some annoying upperclassmen and not feel rage coursing through his veins. It was—nice, almost. Not being subjected to his own hectic imagination at every turn. Feeling at peace for the first time in what felt like ages.
Until he found a letter in his locker, one addressed to him during his senior year. From a secret admirer. The contents of which would be seared into his memory for the remainder of time.
Lee Jihoon, it began.
I have never been able to tell you how I feel, in person or in a letter. For several months now, I’ve tried. I’ve tried to write letters like you for so long, and I just can’t get the words right. I don’t know how you do it. So I’m going to do something different. I’m going to stop being scared. If you meet me in the courtyard after school, I’m going to be brave for the first time in my life. Please help me be brave, Jihoon.
Again and again, he read that short letter. Practically baffled that someone out there wrote an honest-to-god letter that was addressed to an honest-to-god person. And that he wasn’t the writer, that he was the recipient. The thought alone made his heart race, and to comprehend that this secret admirer perhaps harbored feelings towards him? It was next to impossible. But no one writes a letter without true emotion behind it. That’s a fact he was coming to understand.
“I need you to come with me.” He told you after showing you the letter. “I’m—I’m not sure I can do this alone.”
You rolled your eyes. “Jihoon, obviously this person doesn’t want to make a public event out of their confession. You should really do this without me.”
“I know, and I’m not asking you to stand at my side or anything.” He reiterated. “Can you like—stand in a bush or something? If I know that you’re there I won’t feel the need to—"
“Did you just ask me to stand in a bush?” You guffawed. “You did not just ask me to stand in a bush Lee Jihoon because if you did then you’re about to get your ass kicked into next year!”
“I didn’t mean literally!” He quickly denied when he did, in fact, mean it literally. “Just—stand around the corner, okay? Be my moral support!”
Pursing your lips, you knew that there was no getting out of this. “Alright, fine. I’ll come with you. But I’m not happy about it.”
“I’ll pay you back, I promise.” He swore. “Have I ever told you that you’re the best?”
A smirk teased at your lips. “You could mention it more.”
“Consider it done.” Jihoon grinned, gathering up his things and heading for the door. “Don’t forget! After school! Courtyard! Don’t be late!”
Once he was gone and you were completely alone, your face fell in disappointment. “I wouldn’t dream of it…”
By the time that school was finally over for the day, Jihoon was a bundle of overactive nerves. He was excited and terrified and anxious and nauseous all at once. The bombarding sensations kept him cemented in place, gripping the edge of his desk until his knuckles were about to burst through. He had been like that for the entirety of their last class, still as a statue as a cold sweat broke out across his brow. You were standing in front of him, head tilted and wondering what he was planning to do next.
“Class is over.” You reminded him. “Everyone’s left.”
Very slowly, he nodded. “Y-yeah. I can see that.”
His voice sounded as if it had been completely stripped down. Like he had screamed himself hoarse by saying those few words.
“Your secret admirer is probably waiting.” You tried to spur him. “We should get going before I change my mind and head home.”
He audibly swallowed past a lump in his throat. “Well—maybe that’s best. Yeah, I can wait until tomorrow.”
You eyed him incredulously. “You’re going to stay here until tomorrow. You’re insane, get up.”
“I’d rather not.”
“And I’d rather not grow old and die here.” You countered. “C’mon, Jihoon. Your admirer asked you to help them be brave, how exactly is this helping them?”
He had to admit, you had a point. If they were brave enough to put their feelings out there, he had to at least meet them half way.
Sighing loudly, he started to pry his fingers off his desk. “Alright, fine. We’ll do things your way.”
You rolled your eyes for perhaps the hundredth time. “You’re absolutely insufferable. Why do I hang out with you?”
“Because I’m funny.” He said with the most serious face in the world.
Which actually made you laugh.
“I hate you.” You chuckled. “C’mon, let’s get going while we’re still young.”
Jihoon inhaled and exhaled deeply to calm himself down.
This is just the beginning.
Except—it wasn’t.
He stood in the courtyard, seemingly alone, with the note that brought him there clutched tight in his hand. As his moral support you were keeping your distance, as promised, but no one else joined you. Minutes passed and he did his best to remain hopeful. It was hard, especially when a familiar voice nagged at the back of his mind. The same one he struggled with every day to ignore.
No one would ever like you, so why did you bother thinking otherwise?
While the negative thoughts slowly took over, Jihoon didn’t know what to do next. He was defeated, almost destroyed. And even though you walked up behind him and took his hand in yours, it did little to stop the bitter tears from welling in his eyes.
“I should’ve known…” He whispered angrily. “This was all just—a joke. It’s always a joke. Who could ever like me?”
“Stop it, Jihoon.” You hissed at him, squeezing his hand tighter. “They said they were scared, maybe they couldn’t follow through with it. Maybe they were afraid of being rejected. You never know what’s going through someone’s head. Don’t beat yourself up, okay?”
Nothing you said was going to make him feel better. He quickly wrenched himself from your grip and backed away from you.
“I’m going home.” He clipped. “Bye.”
Before he left, he made sure to crumple up the note and toss it at your feet. When his heart was broken, he wore it on his sleeve. You understood what Jihoon was feeling, he had been living with an extremely low self esteem due to his height and his general inability to make friends for as long as you knew him. He was quiet, shy, reserved, he was slow to open up to others and hesitant to trust. That’s why you tried to be excited for him, and now that things hadn’t gone as planned in more ways than one your heart ached just like his.
The next day, Jihoon strolled into class like a drunk zombie. By the looks of him, he hadn’t slept a wink. Too busy being destroyed by his own thoughts to bother with anything like sustenance or sleep. He took up his seat beside you, and you immediately shoved your desk into his.
“Still upset?” You asked, even though you already knew the answer.
Sluggishly he lifted his head up and then quickly dropped it back down.
It was worse than you thought.
“Are you going to talk to me today?” You teased in an attempt to get a reaction. “Or am I going to have to go bother Hansol?”
Grumbling slightly, the barely responsive mass that was your best friend raised his hand and dropped a crumpled wad of paper on your desk. At first, you assumed it was just another one of his letters. They weren’t uncommon when he was feeling—unwell.
But it was another note from his secret admirer.
You were startled because he didn’t usually stop at his locker in the morning.
Lee Jihoon, it started similarly.
I’m sorry for not showing up yesterday, I was scared. I couldn’t bring myself to face you, please don’t be mad at me. I’d like to keep writing you letters, if that’s okay. Let’s get to know each other and maybe one day I can be brave again.
Once you were finished reading, you immediately began analyzing Jihoon’s face again. You had never seen him look like this before, completely vacant. While he was hard to read to the entire world, he was always an open book to you. Now reading him was nearly impossible even with your expertise.
“What are you gonna do?”
He shrugged lazily. “I don’t know. Sit here for the rest of eternity. Wait for the soft embrace of death.”
“Jihoon.” You exasperated. “We both know you’re not actually going to do that.”
Except he actually might and you actually couldn’t take that chance.
“Are you going to write them a letter?” You tried, again. “Maybe that will work out better.”
“I already did.” He murmured. “I don’t think they want to read it though.”
“Jesus Christ…” You groaned loudly, taking Jihoon’s face in your hands and looking him dead in his lifeless eyes. “They still like you, they’re scared and human like the rest of us, it is not the end of the world! Give them another chance and stop being such a goddamn drama queen!”
Silence. Pure unadulterated and perfectly aggravating silence.
“Alright, you leave me no choice. I’m bringing out the big guns.”
Being careful to keep an eye on the teacher, you pulled out your phone and started texting Jihoon’s mother. According to your message, you and Jihoon were going to be studying late at the library, and he would probably need to spend the night at your house. Which wasn’t a complete lie, maybe you would get some studying done. But, in all honesty, you had other things in mind.
“Take your pick.” You instructed, a box set in each hand. “Descendants of the Sun, or Record of Youth.”
Immediately after school, you dragged your best friend to your house and sat him down in front of the TV. Your parents didn’t even question it when you told them this intervention was a matter of life and death, that the patient might need to be admitted for the night. They simply let you do what needed to be done.
Jihoon, who had been relatively catatonic for the past 24 hours, finally showed a glimmer of something. He gave the slightest suggestion of a nod towards Descendants of the Sun and you happily popped in the first disk. As you claimed a spot beside him, popcorn and banana milk in tow, he naturally relaxed against you. You were the only person who got to see him unguarded like that, the only person he himself would allow. And while he was typically someone who kept his true self hidden from the world, there was a part of him that would forever belong only to you.
“Thanks.” He practically whispered, resting his head on your shoulder. “I—I needed this.”
“I know.” You smiled. “Are you ready to talk yet?”
He sighed heavily. “No. Not really. I still have a lot of thinking to do.”
“Well, if you need help thinking you know where I’ll be.” You offered without wanting to seem pushy.
If you weren’t mistaken, you could’ve sworn he actually chuckled.
“Yeah. I do.”
Little by little, your best friend was slowly returning to normal—or as close to normal as you’ve ever seen him. Eventually he started getting sucked into the drama, going rigid when things got tense, and actively pretended he wasn’t crying whenever You Are My Everything played. It was, overall, a job well done. You could sleep easy knowing that Jihoon would be just fine. As you drifted off, you felt him hold your hand and squeeze it gently.
Everything was going to be okay.
And if only to prove that point, the next day was nothing like the one before. Jihoon was back to his old self as if nothing had happened at all. Just another Thursday without a word or whisper about the chaotic tornado his secret admirer had unleashed onto your day-to-day life. He even had a letter for you to read by the time lunch rolled around. Apparently, some freshman irritated him over something seemingly small. At least—to you it seemed barely worth mentioning. But nothing ever really felt small to Jihoon. It was all or nothing, always living in black and white. Which meant that almost everything was important to him in some way. So you read the letter, and you edited it gladly.
Once you were done, he had something else for you. Another note from the admirer.
“This is the third one, right?” You murmured, glancing it over once before looking up at him. “Have you written back yet? Besides the one where I assumed you insulted their very existence with your entire arsenal of hurtful words.”
The blush crawling up his neck was an answer in and of itself, but the thick stack of paper he pulled out of his backpack solidified it.
“I’ve tried a few times.” He admitted hesitantly. “Nothing I write is good enough.”
“Oh, only a few times?” You teased, knowing full well that Jihoon’s definition of a few was the same as calling Jane Eyre a short shopping list. “What’s got you so stuck? Usually you have no issues penning essays over trivial things like cracks in the sidewalk.”
His brow furrowed defiantly. “Hey, proper sidewalk and road maintenance is important to modern infrastructure. If we start overlooking cracks in the pavement, then what? What about traffic lights? Can we afford to allow a single bulb to go out? No, of course not. That’s anarchy.”
You couldn’t believe your ears.
“Jihoon…” You started with an exasperated look. “I was joking.”
Trying to hide the fact that his blush was turning a deep crimson, and failing quite miserably, he pulled a paper from the stack and put it back in his bag. Also something he tried, and failed, to hide from you.
“Are you kidding me!” You laughed, raking a hand down your face. “Did you seriously have a letter in that pile you were going to send to our congressman?”
“No—yes—ugh!” He groaned. “Can we forget about the stupid sidewalk for a second! That’s not important right now! Help me! How do I do this?”
Deciding you had teased your best friend enough, you placed your chin in your hand and smiled at him. “How do you do what, exactly? I’ve never had anything to do with the letters you write, I just read them so someone knows how you’re feeling.”
Who were you kidding, you could never tease Jihoon enough.
He rolled his eyes so hard that he rolled his whole head with them. “Like you’ve ever needed further insight into my head, you always know what I’m thinking before I do.”
True.
“But I don’t understand the first thing about—this.” He finished with a labored sigh, gesturing sharply to the handwritten novel in front of him. “You know that better than anyone.”
Again, he was telling the truth. In the years you had known Jihoon he had never developed serious feelings towards someone else. He had barely entertained the notion since entering high school. He always talked himself out of it because feelings were complicated and bothersome. Plus, he was terrified of being rejected. Like most people are. His intrusive thoughts just so happened to be louder than most.
“I hate to break it to you, Jihoon,” You started in a whisper, “no one knows the first thing about this. Not even me. The only person who can help you is yourself.”
His sour expression made it obvious that he obviously didn’t like your response. “Great. Super helpful. Thank you for your continued wisdom.”
When he moved away from you, you grabbed him by the sweater and pulled him back in. “Why do you always stop listening to me when I’m about to make my point?”
He narrowed his eyes at you. “Because it takes you forever to fucking get there.”
“Alright, you got me there.” You chuckled. “Listen, I’m not kidding when I say that you’ve got to do this one on your own. As much as I can usually sense what feelings are doing somersaults in your stomach, this is a first for you and therefore a first for me. I’ve never seen you like this before, so unfortunately you’ve got to discover this one on your own.”
As you spoke, his features slowly softened until all that remained was a very nervous teenager who didn’t want to screw up his first real chance at love. That’s all Jihoon was at his core, that’s all anyone was.
But you had to admit he almost looked kind of cute.
Almost.
“How do you always know what to say?” He grumbled while crossing his arms. “It’s annoying.”
“You’ve got a really weird way of saying thank you.” You smirked playfully. “Well, maybe this last nugget of advice will get you started in the right direction.”
“Why are you always—” He seethed through his teeth. “How are you still not at whatever your point is!”
You shrugged, because you honestly had no clue. “I'll get there when I get there. You want to hear it or not—”
“Spit. It. Out.”
“Now is that anyway to—”
Wow. You stopped, suddenly fearing for your measly life. If looks could kill—
“Alright, alright, you win.” You conceded. “If you’re having issues writing a letter to your secret admirer, here’s my advice. Stop trying to put words to your feelings and start putting feelings into words. You’re spending too much time trying to say it perfectly that you’re not saying it at all. It doesn’t need to make sense to anyone else, it doesn’t even need to make sense to you. So long as you put them out into the world, they’ll be heard and one day they’ll be understood. You get me?”
The look on his face was—strange. You had a hard time placing it, which should’ve been weirder than it was. In fact, you were seeing lots of different sides to Jihoon lately, sides you never thought existed. This time his eyes widened, the aforementioned scarlet blush had disappeared, and there was a radiance to him that you had never seen before. Like suddenly he could see clearly through the storm of his thoughts.
“Thank you.” He exhaled with a smile. “I’ve never thought about it like that before.”
Feeling triumphant, you wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I’m starting to wonder what you’d do without me, Jihoon. Three days and you’ve been completely undone and redone by this letter.”
“Letters are powerful things.” He muttered. “They can break hearts, mend souls, and change lives. You taught me that.”
“I guess I’m a pretty good teacher.” You boasted, giving him a squeeze. “Despite the fact that I’m actually quite terrible with words.”
He shrugged off your arm. “Except you always know what to say, how exactly does that work?”
“Just because I can make you see reason doesn’t mean I’m good with words.” You laughed easily. “That simply means that I’ve perfected the art of understanding the impossible. Lee Jihoon. I can’t use words like you do. Trust me I’ve tried, I can never get the words right.”
For a moment, he didn’t have any sort of response. Which was definitely weird. It was a well-known fact that he was terrible with the sorts of words he had to speak, but he didn’t have issues when talking to you. That’s because you were friends, best friends. There had never been this sort of unnerving silence before. Not that you could remember, anyway.
What is going on in your head, Jihoon? You found yourself wondering since you couldn’t read his face. Have you started to figure it out?
“Sorry, I was thinking.” He muttered suddenly, shaking his head. “But I know what I need to write now. Will you read this one too? Even if it gets pretty long?”
“Of course!” You exclaimed with a smile. “When have I ever shied away from a challenge?”
The soft glisten in his eyes made your heart flutter.
“Never.”
When the bell rang and you parted ways, you wondered if Jihoon had ever written you a letter.
Well there’s a first time for everything.
For the next week, he was in full writer mode. And there were no more notes from his secret admirer, not that you expected there to be any. Every chance he got he was scribbling something down on whatever surface he could get his hands on. Textbooks, paper, his arm, he was more inspired than you’d ever seen before and nothing was going to stop him. He didn’t even come over to your house over the weekend, a ritual you hadn’t broken in the ten plus years you had known each other. It was a lonely week, for sure, but you knew it was for a good cause.
Then, after what felt like an eternity of silence, he approached you in the courtyard with a single sheet of paper in his hand.
“Hey…” He started uneasily, his grip tightening. “How’re you?”
Seriously? You mused to yourself with a smile. “I’m good, how’s the writing?”
“Done.” He clipped. “And—I think I covered everything.”
“Are you sure?” You asked, eyeing the sheet of paper. “With all of that writing I thought you’d have a novel for me.”
He shook his head, while a blush crawled up his neck. “Sometimes being concise is more effective than being overly wordy.”
“That’s true.” You grinned. “Easier for me to edit anyway.”
Nodding, he shoved the paper into your hand. “Here. Take your time, I don’t want you to rush it.”
“I won’t.” You promised, resisting the urge to start reading right away. “I know you put a lot of thought into this.”
With that, he turned around and walked off without another word. Leaving you holding something that looked like little more than pen ink on paper, but felt like a confession on fire. Once he was out of eyesight, you exhaled a breath you had been holding unintentionally and started reading.
To the person I have never loved before. It began, and you weren’t prepared for the roller coaster you had willingly climbed into.
This isn’t for the person I’ve loved all along, no. This is for you, someone who managed to stir my emotions more than a raging monsoon with only a few words and the hint of a promise. Who are you? I wondered to myself, because you were without equal. How could I have missed you? You were extraordinary. You didn’t have a face, all I had of you was a letter slipped into my locker, you were a ghost and I was set ablaze by your words. I had never felt like that before, my heart was unprepared. As was I. You made me question everything, and made me realize things I had never seen before.
What I felt for you wasn’t love, even though I thought it was at first. You presented me with feelings I decided I would never feel, so I could only assume that it was love. I felt like a live wire, ready to spark at a moment's notice. All I could think about was you. The infinite options and scenarios I dreamt up, all because of you, was astronomical. It was exhilarating, and I found myself drunk on the endless possibilities that you presented me. What else could make me feel that way, if it wasn’t love?
The answer was one I didn’t expect, and it hit me like a tsunami. I started to feel that way towards someone I already know. Someone who has cared for me more than anyone should, they have been my best friend for years so how could I suddenly feel the same way? How could my friendship for them become intertwined with the love I thought was solely reserved for you? And how could I have missed it after being enveloped by their warmth for so long?
You changed all of that. You made me see clearly for the first time in years and I was completely undone. Everything I knew was suddenly challenged, my feelings towards the most important person in my life changed without any warning, and I didn’t know what to do. How could I ask them, a friend, to see me as anything more? I was lost, trapped in an endless loop of destructive thoughts and desire. Desperately wanting to scream my feelings from the rooftop while fearing the voice that would have to put words to them. Your feelings for me awakened my feelings for them, and suddenly the words that have given me comfort for so long escaped me.
Still, you helped me.
In ways I can only thank with this letter.
You helped me because you are the one who told me to start writing letters. It’s always been you. You are the one who has given my thoughts meaning when I struggled to communicate with the world. One that could never understand someone like me. You are the one who wrote me a letter, asking a coward to help you be brave. It took me a while to realize that you were one and the same, but I picked up on the hints you left behind. I’m sorry it took me this long to figure it out.
Would you have showed up had I not asked you to come with me? I think about that often, were you only afraid because my initial thought was that there was no way it could be you? The impossible notion that my best friend could love me anymore than they already do? I have a thousand more questions I want to ask you, but I think I’m brave enough now to ask you in person.
So I’m going to end this letter here, because you deserve so much more than the words I’ve hidden behind for years. A letter I started to write for someone I thought I didn’t know, to the person I’ve never loved before. Funny, how it ended up being a letter to the person I’ve loved all along.
As you read the last line, tears already streaming down your face, you had never felt happier.
“You figured it out.” You whispered, almost in disbelief. “For a second there I thought you never would.”
You don’t know when Jihoon came back, but he was suddenly standing in front of you taking your hand in his. “It really shouldn’t have taken me that long, I’ve only seen your handwriting a thousand times before.”
Laughter bubbled past your lips as you dried your tears with your sleeve. “I was terrified that you would’ve figured me out from the very beginning. Looks like I really give you too much credit sometimes.”
“You do.” He agreed. “So, what did you think of the letter? Any edits you can think of?”
“This isn’t the type of letter that needs editing.” You stated plainly. “It would take away from the author’s meaning.”
“What would that be?” He asked, clearly teasing you. “Enlighten me.”
You shook your head defiantly. “No, no way. It’s your letter, why don’t you tell me what it’s supposed to mean?”
Part of him didn’t want to make it easy, that much you knew with absolute certainty. But, for the sake of time and your poor heart, he would let you off the hook. Just this once.
“That I love you.” He said softly. “More than anything else.”
Choking out a sob, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in close.
“I love you too, Jihoon.”
In the end, neither of you were good with words, but you only needed to know what to say to each other.
info: lee seokmin/reader, general audiences, idol/established relationship au
genre: fluff | word ct: 1k
warnings: none
summary: after touring for months, all seokmin wanted was to be home with the one person that gave the word meaning.
“All flights departing for South Korea have been delayed, we apologize for the inconvenience. Have a good day.”
Staring up at the departure log, Seokmin can slowly feel his lifeforce drain from his body. It’s been weeks, almost months, since he was home. It’s been weeks since he felt his own bed beneath him, weeks since he showered in his own bathroom, weeks since he’s been back in the city that holds his heart. For the longest time he lived for international concerts, he loved performing for people who despite not knowing his language, were singing along to every word. He used to get such a rush from being on stage.
But now, he hates them.
“Dokyeom, I’m sure the delay won’t last long.” Seungkwan says in an attempt to stay optimistic, a reassuring hand on his back.
“I’m about ready to walk back to Korea…” Seokmin mumbles underneath his breath.
The rest of the group is completely aware of how their happy virus has been feeling for the past few days. If it had been a short tour, he’d be fine. But he’s been itching to get back since the moment they left. He tried to be his usual sunshine self for the others, they just know him too well to be fooled by the act.
Throwing his bag into a random seat, he plops down and pulls out his headphones, signalling the others to leave him alone for the time being. Unlocking his phone a sad smile creases his lips.
17:09 LOML: text me before you get on the plane!!
17:09 LOML: I miss you lots!!
17:09 LOML: woojoo misses you too!!
17:09 LOML: 🐶
17:09 LOML: can’t wait to see you tonight!!
Chuckling at his girlfriend’s excessive use of exclamation points, and her excessive cuteness, he dials her number and puts his phone to his ear. One ring, two—
“DK!” She practically beams, clearly not expecting a call.
“Hey babe,” He starts, his entire presence softening at the sound of her voice, “how is everything at home?”
“Good, good!” She exclaims. “It’ll be better once you’re back, though. It’s lonely here without you and the boys. But mostly you.”
Seokmin shakes his head and sighs. “I know, and that’s partially why I called you.”
“Why does that—oh no.” She mutters in realization. “How much longer?”
“I don’t know.” He admits honestly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “All flights to Korea are delayed. There’s nothing I can do.”
Clearly just as unhappy as he is, she whines at the news. “Will this is what I get for dating a rockstar. Busy, busy, busy.”
“I know, baby, I’m sorry—"
“It’s not your fault, DK.” She reassures him. “I don’t mind you coming home late, so long as you come home healthy.”
“I don’t deserve you.” He admits with a smile.
“Wrong.” She states plainly. “You deserve the best. And I’m definitely the best girlfriend. Wanna know why?”
He decides to play along. “Why?”
“I bought us matching sweaters!” She exclaims, proud as can be.
Seokmin couldn’t help it as a sincere laugh bubbled past his lips. “I can’t wait to try it on.”
“The boys are going to be so jealous.” She practically cackles.
“They better be.” He snickers just as he catches her yawning from the other end. “Baby, it’s late. Get some rest.”
Still yawning, he can hear her whining again. “But I don’t want to go…”
“Neither do I, but you need to stay healthy too.” He says. “What if you get sick before I come back? You don’t want me to worry, do you?”
“Mmm… no…” She admits, obviously tired. “Okay, if you insist. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
“Definitely.” He states. “Even if I have to swim back.”
“Oh DK.” She giggles. “Don’t do that.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Okay. Goodnight, DK, I love you, come back soon!”
“I will. I love you too.”
Click.
The delay lasted for four hours. Four. Whole. Hours. And to Seokmin it felt like an eternity and then some. When he finally got off the plane, it was five in the morning, everyone was exhausted and ready to go to bed. And instead of hopping in the van back to the dorms, a mere 15 minutes away, he got a cab and went straight to his apartment. Despite the manager's attempts to talk him out of it. By the time he pulled onto his street, the sun was just starting to rise. Getting out of the cab, his suitcase dragging behind him, he inhaled as deeply as he could.
Finally, finally, he’s home.
Leaving his luggage inside the front door and kicking off his shoes, Seokmin quietly ascends the stairs. Coming to the main level, a familiar scent of citrus soothed his senses, he’s missed all this. As carefully as he could manage, he starts to tiptoe over to the bedroom. Getting closer, he can already hear the charming snores of his favorite puppy and his beloved girlfriend.
With Woojoo at her feet, she’s got the comforter all wrapped up in her arms all while she’s curled up into a little ball. She looks absolutely adorable. Woojoo wakes up first, blinking, yawning, and shaking his head. It takes every ounce of strength that Seokmin possesses not to coo over the cuteness.
“Morning Woojoo.” He whispers, scratching him behind the ears. “Thank you for keeping mama safe.”
Letting out a small yip of happiness, Woojoo starts licking Seokmin’s hand before jumping down and trotting over to his water bowl.
“Dammit, Joo!” Seokmin hisses quietly through his teeth. “Don’t wake her up!”
“Hmm…” She stirs suddenly, causing Seokmin’s heart to stop beating.
He realizes it’s a false alarm as she rolls over and releases the comforter. Sighing in relief, he starts pulling off his clothes so he can change into something more comfortable. Careful not to wake her, he stealthily pulls a pillow from the bed and starts tiptoeing back out into the living room. Unfortunately for him, he’s not that stealthy.
“Seokmin?” A sleepy voice asks, rubbing her eyes.
Shoot. He curses silently. “Go back to sleep, baby, it’s still early.”
“Okay…” She mumbles, laying back down.
Once her head hit the pillow, Seokmin tries to leave again.
“Wait, where are you going?” She protests, lifting herself onto her elbows.
“I didn’t want to wake you, I was going to sleep on the couch.” He admits quietly.
Her cheeks puff out as she pouts. “Well, I’m awake now.”
Sitting up, she extends her arms towards him. Which Seokmin has learned over the years to mean “come hold me”, and what kind of boyfriend is he if he denies her? Chuckling, he puts the pillow back and leans down to kiss his beloved, something he’s been dying to do for weeks. As she hums happily, he climbs into bed beside her, lifting the comforter over both of them before wrapping his arms around her.
Feeling her body against him for the first time in a long while, Seokmin unconsciously nuzzles into her neck, inhaling the familiar scent of her vanilla lotion. Holding her close, he can feel the lethargy start to kick in. The jetlag plus the fact that he got absolutely zero sleep on the plane is enough to knock anyone out. He just wants to hold her for a bit longer.
“Welcome home, Seokmin…” She whispers.
Kissing her bare shoulder, he laces their fingers together, a blissful smile creasing his face. For the first time in a long while, he’s really truly home.
info: yoon jeonghan/reader, pg, post-breakup au
genre: angst | word ct: 1k
warnings: none
summary: when it comes to a broken heart, sometimes even the best memories are better left forgotten.
It’s just a dinner. You found yourself telling your reflection. It’s just a couple of hours, I can handle that.
Usually you didn’t need to give yourself a pep talk to get out the door, but that day was different. That day was going to be difficult to say the least. It was the first family event you’d been to since you—since he broke up with you. Since he took your heart in his hand and crushed it. What made it even worse, was that your family loved him, he was the life of the party, kind and considerate. They were hoping you would marry him. And, well, as much as you shared their sentiments, he evidently had different plans for his life.
“I can’t do this anymore, I’m sorry.”
Those were the exact words out of his mouth, and you’re pretty sure they’ll haunt you for the rest of your life. But, you had to move on. Your life couldn’t come to a complete halt because of one heartbreak. Even if it made it hard for you to get up in the morning. So you sucked it up, you put on your big girl pants and went to that dinner with your chin held high. When in actuality you really wish you’d stayed home.
You weren’t even two steps in the door when you were bombarded with questions. How’s work? How’s school going? Did you get that promotion? Is that a tattoo? The list went on and on and on. Obviously they didn’t ask questions about him, that would be too brash, but the way they were pointedly asking about everything else made it painfully clear. They all wanted to ask, just didn’t have the balls to. Somehow that was worse.
So you answered their questions with a smile, told them what they wanted to hear, you built that wall up three months ago and you’d be damned if you let them break through. Once they exhausted their false interest in your personal life, you headed over to the bar to grab yourself a much needed drink. Braving the rest of the evening was far less daunting with a bit of liquid courage coursing through you.
As it got closer to a socially acceptable time where you could make your escape, you thought you were in the clear. Even your nosey mother didn’t go prying into what happened with him, something you deeply appreciated. For all intents and purposes, you were off the hook. Of course, you’ve never been that lucky, that would’ve been far too easy.
“Aunty?” You heard a very familiar voice call up to you.
“Hani!” You exclaimed when you looked down to see your most favorite niece in the whole world. “Where have you been hiding?”
She stuck her thumb in her mouth and pointed at her brothers. “I was playing with Daesun and Daeyong. They got new dinosaurs.”
“Whoa!” You said enthusiastically. “New dinosaurs! That’s amazing! I wish I had new dinosaurs.”
“Mm.” She hummed, her wide eyes looking up at you expectantly. “Where’s Jeonghan?”
Gone.
Not even meaning to, you suddenly remembered him packing his bags, you remembered begging him to stay. You desperately wanted to talk, to figure it all out, but he made it clear that he only wanted to leave. He didn’t love you anymore. Forcing him to keep dating someone he wasn’t interested in was torture.
“Jeonghan,” You said, choking on each syllable, “please, please, don’t do this. Let’s sit down, let’s talk about this—”
“Why?” He practically spat. “It’s over, nothing you say is going to change that.”
His cold tone stopped you in your tracks. “Why—why are you acting like this? Like—like you don’t care...”
“Maybe I don’t.” He returned vehemently. “Ever think of that?”
One thing you were grateful of, was that his words didn’t leave any room to question. You’ve broken up with a handful of other guys, but you always cushioned the blow, broke their hearts instead of shattering them. Maybe Jeonghan learned from your mistakes, because you didn’t doubt him at all. It was over in an instant. It was over and you were painfully alone.
You plastered a forced smile on your face as you kneeled down beside her. “He’s not living with me anymore, I’m sorry Hani.”
“Why not?” Hani asked innocently.
Please don’t. “We’re not together anymore.”
“But you love him.” She persisted, her words cutting deep.
“Why are you acting like this? Like you don’t care?”
“Maybe I don’t. Ever think of that?”
Fighting back tears, you nodded. “That’s right. I do.”
She cocked her head in confusion. “Then why?”
Feeling your resolve break, you offered her a sad smile as you stroked her hair. “Because, love isn’t always enough.”
Before you had an emotional breakdown in front of the entire family, you ran into the bathroom and locked the door behind you. For months you’d been telling myself that you were fine, that if he didn’t want to be with you anymore then you would let him go. You’d let him be happy. He didn’t love you and that was okay. You were okay. Those were lies, all lies, and as you dropped to the floor, your body shaking, you sobbed harder than you ever had before.
Why? You asked yourself for the hundredth time. Why did he leave? We were happy, we were going to start a life together. He told me that he loved me, was it—was it all a lie?
Wrapping your arms around your knees, you tried your hardest to bury yourself in your regret. You thought you were okay. I was okay. As your vision started to get blurry, you could only think of all the times you were happy together. You were happy for three years, you were perfect for three years.
Wiping at your persistent tears, you pulled out your phone. Opening Instagram, you immediately let out a quiet laugh. You hadn’t changed your profile picture yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to. It was a picture of the gigantic Kumamon plushie he won for you at the fair standing upright beside you, making you look comically small in comparison.
Hesitantly, you scrolled through your account, a sad smile creasing your face as you remembered the memories behind the pictures. The two of you were happy, that much was clear. The three years you spent together wasn’t a lie. His brilliant smile was the brightest part of your life. You had laughed together about everything, shared a love of music, a desire to create a life together, it was hard to think that it was all over in one evening. How he said only a few words to you and left forever.
I miss him. You finally admitted to yourself. I miss him so much.
Tears still rolling down your cheeks, you couldn’t help but smile. Even though he left, even though you weren’t sure if you’d ever see him again, you still had a piece of him that he left with you. And it wasn’t on your phone. It wasn’t the pictures, it wasn’t the posts on facebook or the late night talks on Kakao, it was the memories. Because, no matter how often you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you were in love, and you were happy. And that would never leave you.
Would you like to delete your account?
You hesitated only slightly, your finger hovering over your phone. With one last look at the physical proof of your happiness with Jeonghan and your life together, you made your decision.
info: wonwoo/reader, angst, g
word ct: 800 | warnings: none
summary: things said at 2am between two best friends
note: this is 99% a text fic, there's some actual writing at the end lol, totally get it if this isn't your thing
YN 01:57: hey, you up?
WW 01:57: i'm always up
WW 01:57: why what’s going on
WW 01:58: what’s wrong
YN 1:58: why does something have to be wrong for me to text you?
YN 1:59: can’t a girl text her best friend?
WW 1:59: sure
WW 2:00: but it’s almost 2am and you have class in 6 hrs
WW 2:00: okay now it’s actually 2am
WW 2:00: spill it
YN 2:00: maybe i just wanted to talk to you
WW 2:00: yeah right
WW 2:00: sure
YN 2:01: okay fine
YN 2:01: you caught me
YN 2:01: I can’t sleep
WW 2:01: i assumed that much
YN 2:02: brat
YN 2:02: just keep me company
YN 2:05: you’re bad at this
WW 2:06: i'm sorry that i’m up because i’m actually busy
WW 2:06: some of us have deadlines
YN 2:07: so do I
YN 2:07: but I can’t sleep so here I am
YN 2:08: you’re my best friend
YN 2:08: don’t leave me hanging
YN 2:08: in my hour of need
WW 2:08: only if u tell me what’s wrong
YN 2:09: I told you
YN 2:09: I can’t sleep
YN 2:10: got four eyes and you still can’t see shit
WW 2:10: and why can't you sleep?
YN 2:10: the usual
WW 2:11: that's not ominous at all
WW 2:11: or descriptive
WW 2:12: c'mon
WW 2:13: tell your ol buddy wonu what’s wrong
WW 2:18: preferably before i die of old age
WW 2:20: but you’ll die first because you’re older
YN 2:21: I WAS TYPING YOU BRAT
YN 2:22: fine
YN 2:22: I’ll do this is short bursts
YN 2:22: since you’re so impatient
YN 2:22: you know your friend mingyu?
WW 2:23: the one i produced my last album with?
WW 2:24: never heard of him
YN 2:25: don’t you get smart with me
WW 2:25: i am smart
YN 2:26: A N Y W A Y S
YN 2:27: so
YN 2:27: we have music theory together
WW 2:27: since when do you take music theory?
YN 2:28: since when are you my mother????
YN 2:28: it’s none of your damn business wonu!!!
WW 2:28: you’re the lit student taking music theory
YN 2:28: A N Y W A Y S
YN 2:29: so he asked me out
YN 2:29: and it’s been driving me crazy
YN 2:29: because I like him
YN 2:29: and he’s super funny and sweet
YN 2:29: but he’s also like
YN 2:29: stupid popular
YN 2:30: as my best friend
YN 2:30: I was hoping to get your insight?
YN 2:30: like
YN 2:30: do I have a shot??
YN 2:31: because I do not want to get my heart shattered
YN 2:33: wonu?
YN 2:39: are you still there???
WW 2:39: yeah sorry
WW 2:39: got distracted
WW 2:40: i say go for it
WW 2:40: he's a pretty cool guy
YN 2:41: are you sure?
Wonwoo’s thumb hovered over his screen hesitantly, his body practically trembling with anxiety. The blue SEND button was tempting him, his unsent message screaming to be shared. His increasingly exhausted mind and rapidly decreasing restraint made him almost do something that he’d regret instantly. Like letting the past five years of repressed feelings bubble past the surface.
No, don’t go out with him, because I love you. I love you so much. I’ve loved you since the moment we were partnered to dissect that pig in high school. I love you because you don’t care that I’m not smooth, that I say stupid stuff like that and you actually laugh. You don’t mind staying up with me all night, or even listening to the first stages of my mixtape. You’re honestly the one person in the world that I feel completely comfortable being myself around, and I don’t think I’ll meet anyone else like you. I love you, please say no. Please turn him down. Please give me a chance.
WW 2:43: totally
WW 2:43: you’ll get along great
WW 2:44: have fun with him
YN 2:44: you’re the best
YN 2:45: thank you!
WW 2:45: no problem
WW 2:45: now go to bed
WW 2:46: i don’t want to hear about how exhausted you are all day
YN 2:47: deal!
YN 2:47: I don’t know what I’d do without you wonwoo
YN 2:47: love you!
YN 2:48: goodnight!
With tears streaming down his face, Wonwoo threw his phone across the room in anguish.
info: chwe hansol/reader, general audiences, meet cute au
genre: fluff | word ct: 1k
warnings: narrator is an awkward sarcastic shit none
summary: when mornings and socializing aren't your strong suit, coffee is the only thing that gets you through it.
Are you fucking kidding me?
It was early in the morning, she had just walked out of her apartment, bag slung over her shoulder, she was ready to take on the day. Then she found herself standing in front of a ROAD & SIDEWALK CLOSED sign, yellow caution tape strung up, and she could’ve sworn her life had ended. Her usual route. The whole road. Closed. Meaning that she had to make a detour. God she hated it when her morning routine was thrown off. But she still needed her morning brew. Turning around, she approached a coffee shop she’d never been to before.
Ding.
“Welcome to Sunshine Café! Where our sunshine coffee is bound to put a smile on your face!”
All around her, cheerful faces. Each excessively happy that it was morning. It wasn’t natural.
I think I’m going to vomit.
“Can I get an iced americano?” She ordered, a forced smile twitching at her lips.
The young barista looked far too pleasant to be entirely human. “Would you like to add a pastry to your order for another 89 cents? Or donate a dollar to the poor?”
Lady, I am the poor. “No thanks, just coffee.”
“Coming right up!”
Nodding, she paid and gladly left their perky sight. Putting in her headphones she waited for her order at the pick-up counter while listening to some mixtape she downloaded from SoundCloud. In some attempt to hide from the sunflower prints on the wall and chipper pop music blaring through the loudspeakers, she pulled her hood over her head. God she hated mornings. And she hated morning people more.
Unable to hear, she watched as an iced americano was placed in front of her. Without thinking she reached for it, her fingertips grazing against someone else’s and causing her to jump. She was already having a tough day, her fuse was short enough as it was, so she was fully prepared to rip this person a new asshole when—
Oh no. She internally gasped. He’s attractive. You don’t scream at attractive people. I can barely even speak to attractive people!
He was tall, his clothes were perfectly pressed, a pair of glasses perched at the end of his nose, God it was like he was ripped straight out of a magazine. A magazine full of extremely attractive people. Ones that wore beanies, and had dimples, and everything else she suddenly liked in a man. For a good minute, she watched his mouth move and wondered why the hell no sound was coming out. Scratching her head, she accidentally tugged on her headphones. Apparently handsome guys in coffee shops made her act like a complete moron.
“Sorry?” She chuckled nervously, removing them and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “What did you just say?”
Unfazed by her blunders, he smiled. “I was just wondering what you ordered.”
“Ah.” She grinned. “Iced americano, you?”
“Same.” He nodded as he adjusted his glasses. “Sorry, I must’ve—"
“No, no, no.” She objected, pushing it towards him. “I probably picked up your coffee by mistake.”
She was so nervous, so flustered, that her phone slipped out of her hand. Watching it clatter to the floor they both leaned over and suddenly he let out a quiet chuckle. Confused, she followed his gaze and could’ve sworn that her heart immediately stopped. Her music was displayed on the screen. Her odd music that no one else liked. The music that most everyone laughed at.
Oh no, oh no, oh no, attractive guy is going to laugh at my music, shit, shit!
“chwenotchew, huh?” He questioned, obviously amused. “Where did you find him?”
Play it cool, play it cool! Whatever you do, play it cool and don’t choke on your tongue! “It was just something I found on SoundCloud. Random mixtape, nothing special.”
“Nothing special?” He practically winced, handing her phone back to her. “That hurts.”
Confused, she took her phone back from him and looked down at the album art. There was something oddly familiar about the man on the cover. Then, it dawned on her. It was his face. The face of the extremely attractive guy kneeling down beside her. His actual face. Not some likeness, not some abstract interpretation. Just his face. And she insulted it. To his face.
She felt herself blushing. “I’m—I am so sorry, I had no idea that—that this was—"
“I prefer an honest opinion.” He smirked as he stood and offered her a helping hand. “Even if it’s not always the one I want to hear.”
Feeling guilty, she shook her head as she was pulled to her feet. “I didn’t mean what I said. I’m just so used to people making fun of me for what I listen to, I didn’t want this handsome stranger to—"
Oh no. She paused. When will you figure out how to shut up?
“I mean—" She stammered, her blush deepening with each passing second. “This other handsome stranger—not that you’re not handsome, because you definitely are, I just—oh my God. I need to stop talking.”
Despite her obvious struggle, the stranger smiled at her. “I think you should keep going, you’re doing great.”
“Oh.” She pouted, puffing out her cheeks. “Now you’re making fun of me.”
“I can’t help it.” He chuckled. “You’re pretty cute when you’re flustered.”
Is it possible to choke on your tongue? Because I’m definitely choking on my tongue.
“Ummm…” She hesitated with a nervous laugh. “Wow, okay, ummm—what?”
He gave her this award winning smile that practically turned her into a puddle. “Just wondering, would you want to go out with me sometime?”
Choking on your tongue is possible. It’s very possible.
“I—" She swallowed. “I mean—I mean yeah? Probably? Like—definitely?”
“Good.” He smirked just as her order was placed on the counter. “I’m Vernon, by the way.”
Choking. Still choking.
“And I’m—" She started, chuckling underneath her breath. “Really happy that the road was closed today.”
info: dino/reader, fluff, pg
word ct: 800 | warnings: mild alcohol consumption (nothing excessive)
summary: stay tuned, you don't want to miss this one
She was sitting at the bar on a Saturday night, a gin and tonic placed neatly in front of her. Time passed slowly as she watched couple after couple stroll in hand in hand, giggling over trivial things and causing bile to rise in her throat. Unconsciously, she rolled her eyes at the sight, sipping at her drink, waiting for someone who would never show up. Her own boyfriend. Her own stupidly famous boyfriend that was currently in stupid America touring with his stupidly famous stupid dance group.
Stupid dancers and stupid Lee Chan. She grumbled. Why did I ever get involved with him in the first place?
“Can I get you anything else? Something to eat, maybe?” The bartender asked her for the second time that night. “What would you like?”
Sighing, she shook her head. “Nothing. Unless you can get me a plane ticket that is.”
He snickered, placing another drink in front of her. “Sorry, this is all I’ve got. Hope it helps.”
Oh, it will.
Downing her first glass, her attention turned towards the TV above the bar. Of course, of course it was a broadcast of his group's performance. And it was live. She loved watching her boyfriend through a glass screen. Absolutely. Loved. It.
“Turn it up!” Someone shouted from the back.
Without meaning to, she groaned loudly, earning her some confused looks from the people around her. But, being the loyal and supportive girlfriend that she was, she watched them perform thousands of miles away. She watched the love of her life dance with everything he had, she watched him give the performance of his life. And as their number finished and the crowd roared in applause, she had to admit that she loved it. She really did.
Once they were done, they zoomed in on all the members, allowing them all to give their own speeches. When it came to Chan, she felt her heart race. Somehow, despite the fact that they’d been dating for two years now, he still had that effect on her. She was just that hopelessly in love with him.
“Is there something you want to say?” The announcer asked Chan. “Anything at all?”
He nodded cutely, giving the whole world that adorable smile of his. “Babe! I hope you’re watching! You better be watching! I’ve been texting you all day!”
She sat up straighter in her seat, pulling out her cellphone to see an unread message from him an hour or so ago. It was simple, making sure that she would watch the performance, paired with at least 83 hearts of varying shapes and sizes. And two pictures of him getting his makeup done.
“I love you!” He exclaimed suddenly, hiding his face behind his baggy sleeve. “I know I don’t see you a lot, I know you miss me and I want to apologize for that. I miss you too. So much. But I also want you to know that I appreciate all the late night texts, and all the times you facetime me to make sure I’ve eaten, you’ve stood by me through it all. You’ve stood with me through so much, I just have one last thing to ask of you.“
He paused for a second, looking to his fellow members for—something. Reassurance? Guidance? Encouragement? Courage?
“Will you—" He stammered, his face turning beat red. “Will you marry me?”
Caught off guard, she nearly spit her drink across the bar. And while the entire world either cheered in excitement or cried in despair, she struggled to reattach her jaw. Obviously she had heard him wrong, because if she heard him correctly—she didn’t want to think about it. There was no way—no way that Chan just proposed to her on live TV.
Fumbling for her phone, she dialled a very important number. She knew that she wasn’t going to get a hold of him, but someone on his management team was going to hand him a phone some way or another if they didn’t want her hopping on a plane and crashing their entire tour. Because she definitely would.
“Sunbaenim?” She asked. “I think you know who I’m trying to get a hold of.”
Looking back up at the TV, she saw a nervous assistant fuss with Jeongguk’s earpiece.
“Babe?” He said into his mic with a smile. “I assume you saw all of that.”
“Yeah.” She muttered. “I did. Thanks for that.”
He didn’t say anything for a second. “And? What do you say?”
“Well, if you want the honest truth.” She started, tapping her chin. “Sometimes I hate you, sometimes I love you. I’m trying to decide which I’m feeling right now.”
He chuckled easily. “Is that a yes or a no?”
“Ask me again when you get home, idiot.” She rolled her eyes. “No way I’m agreeing to marry you when you’re in America.”
“I get that.” He smiled, staring into the camera like he was staring right at her. “See you when we get home?”
“Yeah.” She blushed uncontrollably. “See you soon.”
info: joshua/reader, fluff, g
word ct: 300 | warnings: none
summary: in which your famous boyfriend is about to be a famous father
Finding out you were pregnant was probably the most earth shattering revelation of your short adult life. Remembering that your boyfriend and the father of your unborn child was a famous hallyu actor was a close second. Those two simple facts paired together meant that you would be going to an OBGYN all on your own. The swoon-worthy Hong Jisoo didn’t need a baby scandal, not when he was about to star in the biggest drama of his career.
“I’m sorry I’m not with you. I know you need me right now.”
“I needed you the other night after watching The Ring. This I can handle.”
“Are you sure, I could—”
“I’ll be fine, Jisoo. Don’t worry about me.”
“The doctor will see you now.”
Here goes nothing.
As you attempted to exhale all of your anxiety, you followed the nurse into the examination room. Finding the room empty, you looked back at her in confusion.
“Where’s the doctor?” You asked.
“He just took a call.” She explained. “You can wait here for him.”
Unsure of how else to respond, you simply nodded your compliance with an uneasy smile. Once you were alone with your thoughts, you the panic rising in your chest. The weight of the next nine months and beyond suddenly crashed down on your shoulders. From the baby, to the secrecy of your relationship with Jisoo, and everything in between, it was enough to make your head spin.
And boy was it spinning.
When the door opened again, you were too distracted to offer much of a greeting.
“Sweetheart, are you okay?”
Slowly, you nodded, still too out of it to realize who was in front of you.
“Sweetheart, baby, you’re spacing. Come back to me now.”
Blinking away the haze, you finally looked up to see a very warm sunshine smile beaming down at you.
“There she is.” He muttered, brushing your hair out of your face.
“Jisoo?” You questioned in disbelief, standing and wrapping your arms around his neck. “You shouldn’t be here, but I’m glad you are.”
He chuckled as he kissed your temple, an affectionate hand resting in the small of your back. “I’m not going anywhere.”
