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Guys, I Seriously Think This Might Be The Fic That Breaks Me. Because Not Only Am I Crying Alone At 6am,

Guys, I seriously think this might be the fic that breaks me. Because not only am I crying alone at 6am, but I'm fricken yearning for something I've never had like this is not okay for me to be feeling these things. But this is why we have art and creative writing, I guess

- so beautifully written I'm actually sobbing bye

DONT LOOK AT ME PLEASE.

Summary: A quiet night in with Jihoon is the perfect excuse to reminisce on the evolution of your relationship with him. It evolves a bit more when he wakes to find you trying on one of the paper rings he's been leaving all over the house.

Word Count: ~4000

Content Notes: this is not smut ! this is just fluff ! very happy and probably tooth-rottingly sweet !!

Warnings: lil bit of weed; mentions of drinking; mentions of eating; cramps mention (not specified as menstrual so even if u don't menstruate you should be good to go), mentions of having kids but its even smaller a blip than the drugs; he lifts reader up (lbr this man is massive and i believe that if he couldn't lift you he'd just work out till he could), i mention his body a lot bc im obsessed with it what can i say, he's asleep for like half of it sorry, a bit of crying but not as much as in bartender!seungkwan pt 2

tagging: @confusedbansheee @lenireads @junhui-recs @burningupp-replies @heeseung-lover686 @favehoshiposts @gyvswhore @jaysawake @1004luvangel @bangchanbabygirlx

“Sleepy?” Jihoon asks from bed with a soft voice, face nearly expressionless, but you can see the love in his eyes, like always. You’ve gotten good at reading Jihoon over the two years you’ve been together but the man doesn’t always offer up his emotions freely. In his music, sure, but in life? Unless he’s laughing, it can be hard to tell how exactly he’s feeling. If you ask, the answer will usually be hungry, or most often, tired.

Jihoon is always tired, working long hours in the studio as a producer and even longer hours at home as a songwriter. You can always hear him singing in the spare bedroom turned home studio, and every time one of his songs comes out, you wish it was his voice instead. He sings for you, sometimes, when you can’t sleep. Most of the time, he sings when he thinks you’re already asleep (he doesn’t need to know you're faking and you don’t need to know he knows you’re faking).

You realize you’ve forgotten to respond to him and nod with a gentle smile, bending down for a kiss which he returns contentedly. He’s used to it, knows you drift off sometimes, especially when he sparks a thought in you.

You’re still thinking as you crawl into bed beside him, leaning in for one more kiss before nuzzling your head into his shoulder.

You have a lot of thoughts about him, at all times.

You didn’t last long as friends, maybe two or three months, because your traitorous brain just wouldn’t shut up about him.

His friends had been high the night you met, bragging to you about what a star Jihoon was and trying to get you to date him. Jihoon, meanwhile, looked like he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole, especially when the platinum blonde one (whom you now know as Soonyoung) held his hand up and curled his fingers at you, hissing, “Tiger’s gaze!” and then stared at you with narrowed eyes for approximately 45 seconds.

It only got worse when his other friend (sweet, kind, loud Seokmin) started singing something from King Arthur at the top of his lungs; his voice would have been beautiful if it wasn’t directly in your ear and echoing off the empty streets.

Jihoon did his best to wrangle them, apologizing sincerely before dragging them away and shooting one last pinched smile over his shoulder at you.

You’ve never told him but that night, you went home and googled the fuck out of him. You’d tried every combination of Jihoon and producer and music and songwriting you could think of, throwing in other random words just in case they worked. Nothing did and you fell asleep that night frustrated, and no more informed than you were when you started.

Now obviously, you know you didn’t find anything because he produced under a pseudonym.

Your eyes wander over the shelf of awards, all won by Woozi or Universe Factory. Jihoon had been reluctant to put them up, being the humble man he is, but you wanted to celebrate him. You wanted him to look at them and feel proud. And then look at you and feel supported. He may not say it but you know he does.

You can feel Jihoon’s breath even out and look up at him to find his heavy eyelids closed and his lips open just a bit. His throat will be sore tomorrow if he sleeps with his mouth open like that, and he won’t absentmindedly hum around the house if it is, so you hold your breath and carefully push his chin up with one finger to close it. You wait, just to make sure you haven’t woken him, and thank your lucky stars he’s a heavy sleeper.

Now that you know he’s sleeping and won’t perceive you (as he so often does), you let your mind wander.

You think about how you’d run into him again, on that same street, with the same friends, just a few weeks after the first time. You’d pretended you didn’t remember him, or that night.

Even then he knew you were lying. Jihoon’s always been able to see right through you, down to the insecure and messy parts you try to hide.

He let it slide though, let you pretend, knowing somehow you needed to protect yourself just a little bit longer. Soonyoung and Seokmin (they repeated their names to you what felt like a hundred times) somewhat desperately attempted to convince you to join them on their night out.

Jihoon had tried to free you, give you an out by saying that you were probably busy and had plans of your own, his eyes boring into you to make sure you knew what he was doing.

You only needed a few seconds to decide you didn’t want to be free.

So you joined them, and learned you shared mutual friends, and suddenly two friend groups became one, and then you were seeing him every weekend. You always thought you could feel Jihoon’s eyes on you, but when you’d look over he’d be in a seemingly deep conversation with someone else, usually Jun.

Jun was one of the friends you had in common, you’d met him at work and Jihoon had known him since middle school, and he was perhaps too delighted when your friend groups merged.

You honestly couldn’t tell if Jihoon even liked you as a person until your friends insisted on swimming in Jun’s apartment complex’s pool. It was freezing out, halfway through November and mid cold-front, and the absolute last thing you wanted to do was jump in a cold ass pool.

Everyone else had gone in, everyone but you and Jihoon. Your friends had tried to goad you for a bit but eventually gave up and started trying to drown each other, as boys do.

You’re sure Jihoon could tell that you did want to get in, but you didn’t want the teasing or punishing splashes that were sure to follow, because he came and sat next to you on the lounger, and said quietly, “what if I go in first?”

With wide eyes, you’d turned to him, shocked that A) he was talking to you unprompted, and B) that he was offering to get in the pool at all. He’d been adamant he didn’t want to get his clothes wet, saying that he hadn’t brought anything else to wear, that he hated the way water felt in his slides. Jun had offered a shirt, but you and everyone else knew it wouldn’t fit Jihoon. He was just too big, so very big and dense and muscular and…

You shake your head, reminding yourself that he’s asleep and values his rest and wouldn’t appreciate you awakening him by feeling him up.

Maybe he would though, he always gets the cutest blush whenever you appreciate his body in any way, shape, or form… and his form is so…

No! Jihoon needs his rest, he doesn’t sleep enough and he works too hard for you to wake him up now, even if you desperately want to trace your fingers over his pecs.

Your mind wanders to when you’d accidentally went from friends to more than friends to lovers to partners.

Jihoon wasn’t much of a drinker, and neither were you, so you were often paired up as designated drivers. Neither of you minded, preferring to keep a clear head and make sure your friends didn’t concuss themselves or impregnate anyone, but it meant you spent a lot of time together.

A lot of time together, late into the night, surrounded by drunk people who wouldn’t remember what you said in the morning.

So you and Jihoon entertained yourselves by making fun of your friends’ antics. You shared secret smiles when Seokmin inevitably climbed on a table and started belting out show tunes. You giggled to each other when he launched himself onto Mingyu’s back and declared himself king of the world. You blindly slapped at each other’s arms and stifled smiles when Soonyoung started trying to make out with whoever was closest to him and subsequently got pushed away with a palm to the forehead.

That’s usually when one of you would decide the group had had enough for the night, and worked together to corral everyone into your respective cars. One night though, after assigning seats and buckling everyone in (thank fuck you both drove SUVs), Jihoon gently caught your hand before you opened the driver’s side door and pulled you aside.

He’d looked nervous, which was uncharacteristic of him, and you were instantly worried he was going to tell you he was tired of chaperoning.

Terrified you’d be on your own from now on, left to somehow babysit twelve grown men without Jihoon’s firm, large hand, you twisted your fingers together and stared at him apprehensively.

“Do you think you’d maybe… some time… want to get-” Jihoon pushed out a breath, shaking his head from side to side a little, before continuing.

“Would you wanna get a drink sometime? With… just me? We could leave the kids at home for once.”

A half-smile pulled at his lips, nerves evident only in the bunching of his muscles and the way he couldn’t quite meet your eye.

It had taken everything in you to pretend you didn’t just see a flash of the two of you dropping toddlers off at your mom’s house before running back to the car together and escaping into the sunset.

Jihoon must have taken your wide eyes and silence for a rejection though, because he started backtracking. He didn’t get far before you interrupted him.

“Actually there’s a place nearby where they wander around with various grilled meats on sticks and cut it right there onto your plate. It’s all you can eat. We could go there instead?” You offered hopefully.

Jihoon had looked right at you then, like he was seeing all the way down to your bones and into the annoying, stupid organs they protected (a heart that beat too hard around him, and a brain that he could scramble with a single touch).

But his face was more open than ever, eyes clear and focused on you. It was scary almost, to have all of his attention, all of his concentration, on you like that. Scary until he broke out into a full grin, eyes crinkled and dimples creased in his smile lines.

And that was all it took, just one smile and he’d burrowed his way deeper into the depths of your heart and every groove of your brain, and you knew somehow you’d never be able to disentangle them from him.

Jihoon’s been stuck there ever since, carving out his own space in you with every late night spent cooking together, every early morning spent staring at each other, every long day spent caring for one another.

His care always shows in the little things: in the way he makes two portions when he has to leave early for work so he’s sure you eat breakfast, in the way he noticed that you hate when his toes touch you in bed and started wearing socks without you having to ask, in the way he can always tell when you have cramps and appears every four hours to give you pain meds because you’d forget they exist otherwise.

The longer you’re with him, especially now that you live together, the more sure you are that you want this to be your life, forever.

You’ve already read all of the books on his side of the bed, even though they’re about songwriting and you don’t have a poetic bone in your body. There’s a picture of him on your nightstand, framed carefully, and he’d bemoaned the fact that it was just him and not you together.

But how could you resist? His mouth was open wide, kabobs in each hand, and uninhibited, ravenous joy in his eyes. It’s one of your favorite pictures of him, and you know Jihoon knows it’s because it reminds you of that first date at the Brazilian steakhouse.

You smother a giggle in his shoulder, remembering how Jihoon had invited you back to his place after.

You’d worried things were moving too fast until he turned on a movie and immediately fell asleep, his massive shoulders tipping into you until he was practically in your lap. You hadn’t been able to move for hours, both because you didn’t want to disturb him and because he was just too heavy, and even with dead legs and a screaming bladder, you still wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

You don’t mean to, but sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night and can’t fall back asleep, so you just lay on your side and watch his chest rise and fall. It’s soothing to you, the pattern of his breaths and the sound of air moving through his lungs. A reminder that he’s here with you and feels safe with you and loves you (Jihoon can sleep anywhere but he doesn’t like sharing a bed, a fact that changed with you).

This usually happens on rainy days or Mondays or when things feel a bit more complicated than normal.

Being with Jihoon isn’t always easy; it’s not even close to his fault but it can be hard contending with his demanding schedule, and sometimes he pours so much emotion into his music he doesn’t have a whole lot to spare for you. You never doubt that Jihoon loves you, but there are days that he’s a bit closed off, a bit unavailable.

Those are the nights that you stay awake on purpose, just so you can watch him sleep and remind yourself that he wants to be here with you, and that he’s here to stay.

You’re still not sure if Jihoon thinks you haven’t noticed the paper rings he’s been leaving all over the house. He has to have noticed that they disappear though, snatched with delicate fingers and deposited straight into your jewelry box as soon as you find them. You’re too scared to put them on, worried you’ll tear the paper or get them wet or lose them, but you know they’re for you.

He’d told you somewhere near the six month mark that his writing changed when he met you, got deeper, truer, his words finally tied to real experiences, and you’ve listened to every song he’s put out since then.

Same dream, same mind, same night was basically a proposal in itself, even if it was sung by someone else. Last month, he’d led you into his studio, gently pushing you down by the shoulders to sit in his chair before starting the guide track of IF you leave me and immediately running from the room.

You’d emerged fifteen minutes later, your face wet with tears and sobs caught in your throat, walking straight into his arms and staying there for hours.

Your mind lingers on one lyric in Same, same, same.

Promise me eternity, if you feel the same way as I do

You feel the sudden urge to look at the rings, to try one on for once, so you carefully roll out of bed, thanking yourself for not having wormed your way into his arms yet. Shuffling on quiet feet to your dresser, you open your jewelry box, holding your breath and praying it doesn’t creak.

The paper rings are there, as expected, but you notice something new this time.

A metal one, white gold, with a diamond wrapped in delicate golden vines, dotted with tiny gemstones. You look closer, realizing that the gems are his and your birthstones.

Your breath catches in your throat, tears welling up immediately, and you almost curse Jihoon for making you cry so late at night, before you hear rustling behind you and his tired voice.

“Took you long enough, that thing’s been in there for days,” you can hear the smile in his tone, hear the way it forms his words and coats them with love, “didn’t you notice I stopped leaving paper ones for you to find?”

You can hear blankets moving through the roaring in your ears, fingers quivering around the ring until Jihoon reaches around you and takes it from your grasp. He must know you’re frozen, unable to turn around on your own, because he lays a gentle hand on your shoulder and spins you slowly himself.

Your gaze meets his and you’re shocked to see inklings of tears in his eyes, your eyebrows raising and the fondest smile stretching your lips. Jihoon tries to kneel but you follow him, sinking down onto your knees until you’re both sitting on the floor of your bedroom, in the home you share.

He rolls damp, playful eyes at you, and you can only shrug and let your watery smile grow.

Jihoon should know by now that you’ll always follow him.

“I had a plan, if you didn’t find it in the next few days,” Jihoon begins, voice quiet but strong.

“I bought you a music box programmed to play the song I wrote the night I first asked you on a date, one you’ve never heard before, and I was going to have it waiting with all the rings inside when you got home from work.”

You nod, biting your lips into your mouth to stifle the sob, forcing yourself to focus on him even through the fogginess of your tears.

Jihoon just narrows his eyes at you lovingly, a little chuckle escaping under his breath, before shifting to sit with his knees crossed, and pulling you to sit sideways in his lap. His arms wrap around you, cradling you and letting you gather yourself enough to listen to him, and he carries on with his speech.

“You know I like to have control over my life, over who’s in it and what happens and where it goes, but when I met you, I started wondering what could happen if I didn’t control everything. It felt like a sign when I saw you again, and then when we had friends in common, it felt like the pieces could fall into place if I would just let them.”

Jihoon disguises a sniffle in a cough and like the loving, caring person you are, you pretend to be fooled.

“So I tried to let go. I wasn’t successful at first,” you snort, remembering the way he always pretended he hadn’t been looking at you, and he bops you gently on the head with his nose in retribution.

“I wasn’t successful at first,” Jihoon continues pointedly, digging his chin into the top of your head a bit.

“But I got better at it, better at letting go and letting things happen, and being around you got so easy I didn’t even have to try anymore. And then I asked you out for drinks, and I thought you were turning me down but you proposed meat instead, and that’s when I knew,” Jihoon nods with finality, seemingly finished.

“Is that- Are you… done?” You ask, tilting your head to stare at him.

Jihoon stares back, face flat, before he breaks out into laughter, his cackles bouncing off the walls of your bedroom and your heart. You can’t do anything but join him, resting your head on his shoulder and giggling into his neck.

“No, I’m not done. I was pausing for dramatic effect, I thought you’d appreciate it!” He says breathlessly, pressing a kiss onto your forehead, pausing to let his lips rest there a moment.

“That’s when I knew that I was in trouble. That if I got to be with you, got to love you, I’d never want anyone else. But I was ready, I am ready. And if you are too, then,” Jihoon pauses to pull away enough to look at you, voice soft and serious.

“Marry me?” He unwraps one arm from around you and holds out the ring, nestled in his palm and looking so so delicate compared to the size of his hand.

You feel like your throat is closing up, clogged with joy and love and wishes fulfilled. You can only nod, reaching shaking fingers out to Jihoon, watching as he slides the ring onto your fourth finger. It fits perfectly, sparkling even in the moonlight and warm from his skin.

Staring at it on your finger for just a second, you take a deep, steadying breath before tackling Jihoon to the floor and kissing him like your lives depend on it.

He goes willingly, you know because Jihoon’s withstood your attempts to tackle him before, and he lets you kiss all over his face with his eyes scrunched shut and the brightest grin you’ve ever seen him wear.

You lay there together on the floor, his body cushioning yours from the hardwood and you promising him in your mind to massage away all the aches tomorrow, talking late into the night and falling asleep together, breaths in sync.

You wake up in bed, eyes swollen from crying the night before, and jerk as your phone vibrates again on the nightstand.

Oh, so that’s what woke you up, you think, reaching over to flick the button and silence the buzzing.

Jihoon’s not in bed with you, but you can hear him singing in the kitchen, a song you don’t recognize. Something about being ready and wanting to run away and someone being his escape?

You start to roll out of bed, toes tapping to the beat of his song, but stop when you see your phone light up again. Your eyes grow wide at the amount of notifications, the such a beautiful night groupchat being responsible for all of them.

Rubbing your eyes blearily with the back of your hand, you scroll through the messages, trying to catch up.

You see apple cash being exchanged, demands for pictures, requests for the full story, and know Jihoon must have told the guys.

Some people might be upset that he’d shared the news without asking, but you just smile, because it had been them who brought you together in the first place.

It was Soonyoung who growled at you when you were passing him in the street, forcing Jihoon to grab him by the arm and apologize profusely to you.

It was Jun who called the night you first agreed to hang out with them, who recognized your voice and shouted at Jihoon until he passed the phone to you.

It was Seungcheol who begged you both to be designated drivers, desperate to the point of offering the two of you gas money and his firstborn child.

It was Seokmin who broke out into love songs every time you and Jihoon so much as glanced in each other’s direction, and Mingyu who carried him away before either of you got too embarrassed and annoyed to even look at one another.

Memories flicker through your brain like vintage film, your mind recalling moments you and Jihoon shared with each and every one of the guys.

Moments that led you to each other, brought you closer together, allowed this love to grow.

Facilitated it, even.

You’re so lost in thought you don’t notice Jihoon coming in until he scoops you up into his arms bridal style and hauls you into the kitchen, setting you down on the counter and placing a plate of steaming scrambled egg mess on your lap and a fork in your hand.

You reel a bit, trying to catch up to the abrupt location change, and ask Jihoon, “what was that for?”

Jihoon smiles at you, dimples on full display and cheeks pushed up high, and says, “Practice.”

AN: so if y'all couldn't tell by my blog, woozi is my ult and i fear i may be straight up in love with him, evidenced by this fic. i made myself cry with this one and you're legally obligated to tell me if it made you cry too!

this is the pic reader has framed

:'-)

Ps do u guys know what I’m talking about when I said his exhale head shake thing bc I love when he does that and if u dont know I will find it and gif it and reblog it onto the post

Part Two

Guys, I Seriously Think This Might Be The Fic That Breaks Me. Because Not Only Am I Crying Alone At 6am,

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