Shit Why Did Not One Tell Me Writing Mafia Fics Are So Difficult??? Also It's Gon Be A Long Fic So It's
Shit why did not one tell me writing mafia fics are so difficult??? Also it's gon be a long fic so it's taking time. In the meanwhile can y'all ask me some thots? Like just short time scenarios no real fic reqs can't do them rn hehe (mostly nsfw tho)
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Enjoy my princess' visual in the meantime <3
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More Posts from Wifeyoozi
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MINGYU LALALI, 2024
when will there be the second part of the woozi fic?
Still in writing it's difficult to write long chapters with college im sorry 😭😭 been getting a writer's block especially for that fic I'm not able to write more than 3k words 😭
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE LALALI MV? THEY LOOK SO GOOD!!!!!
Omg I just saw and EXCUSE ME SIR MINGYU??? was nanatour not enough shirtless they had to put that shot in the mv 😭😭
YALL THE QUEEN FINALLY POSTED
Moving Out | ljh x reader
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Rating: sfw (still 18+) | WC: ~1.7k | Pairing: ljh x reader | Genre: fluff
Warnings: allusions to sex, mention of birth control, unplanned pregnancy, allusion to possible abortion
Reader Notes: can get pregnant
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You’ve always loved Jihoon’s apartment.
It’s spacious yet homey, flooded with natural light from the south-facing windows, and it has the most beautiful original hardwood floors you’ve ever seen. The building doesn’t have many amenities but the elevator works and the owners are a kind older couple who practically adopted Jihoon as their own.
You met them the first time he ever invited you over and you could tell they were being intentionally embarrassing, but his red cheeks and fond cringes only made him more endearing to you. They visited often, genuinely happy to see the both of you and often bringing some kind of food or baked goods for you to share.
You spent more time at his place than you did your own, and they always teased you about it, always asked you when you’d be putting your name on the lease, and you always laughed it off. You didn’t want Jihoon to feel pressured; you knew he appreciated having his own space and you appreciated having yours, but you also knew that you would love it if those two spaces became one.
You weren’t sure if he felt the same until they stopped by about a year into the relationship. They asked you that familiar question and he took the opportunity to answer it, not even looking at you as he said, “When I finally ask.”
Their smiles were too big to be contained and you found yours was the same, your heart skipping in your chest as he glanced over at you and grinned softly, his arm coming up to wrap around your waist and his hand squeezing your hip. They seemed to sense the shift in the air and excused themselves, citing a trip to the farmers’ market and disappearing down the hallway hiding giggles behind their hands.
He gently closed the door behind them and turned to you, his ears flushed and his eyes nervous as his hand migrated to your back and pulled you closer to him.
“I was going to ask you next week, but… Move in with me?”
You didn’t think about it for long. You hadn’t resigned your lease yet and you wanted to wake up with Jihoon every day and fall asleep next to him every night. It was the easiest yes of your life.
He made space for you in both big and small ways. His closet wasn’t full to begin with because he wears much of the same clothes and many of them can be folded instead of hung, so your wardrobe fit without issue. His skincare routine was spartan, just cleanser, toner, and moisturizer, so he didn’t need to clear off the vanity for you to lay out your products, the left side becoming yours and the right side becoming his.
He did have some art up on the walls but he rearranged his pieces to look more cohesive with yours, your styles blending together effortlessly. He wasn’t as attached to his furniture as you were, having bought it new instead of scouting second hand like you did, so he sold the couch and armchair to make room for yours without you even asking.
The biggest change was in his home studio. You told him your desk could fit in the bedroom, that you didn’t mind spending your work from home days in there, especially with the big window and cozy feel. He respected your wish in the beginning, but after one too many times waking up to you typing away at your computer in the midnight hours, he moved his keyboard to the second level of his desk and hauled yours into the studio. He said that if he wasn’t allowed to work in the night, neither were you, that your bedroom was a place for rest and relaxation, and you couldn’t disagree with him.
That change brought you closer together than ever. For some, the repetitive sounds of him creating music could be distracting, but for you, it was music in and of itself. The beats settled into your brain and you found yourself typing in time with them, humming along to the tunes that he sang, knowing he couldn’t hear you with his noise canceling headphones on. Getting to be privy to his process was a privilege, an honor, and even though you didn’t speak much in the time you spent working in the same room, you still felt connected.
Then there were the nights spent cooking together in the chef’s kitchen he barely made use of before you. Jihoon enjoyed cooking, but he didn’t often have time for it, and he didn’t see a reason to put in so much effort if he was just feeding himself. When you moved in, you created a shared pinterest board for recipes and a shared note for meal planning. He was surprisingly enthusiastic about it, pinning more recipes than you and constantly suggesting things in the note. Soon enough, you had an arsenal of tried and true dishes that you could rotate throughout the month, adding in some new ones just for variety, just to keep things fresh.
You think you kissed more in that kitchen than anywhere else in the apartment. Lazy makeouts while the pasta was boiling away, quick kisses between chopping veggies, pecks as you passed each other ingredients, smooches as you stirred sauces. You kissed a lot in the bedroom too, of course, but those kisses almost always led to more. The ones exchanged in the kitchen were kisses just for the sake of kissing, just to enjoy each other and show your love.
You shouldn’t discount the kisses in your bedroom, though. Heated, messy, loving, with wandering hands and pounding hearts, Jihoon’s weight on you, your hands in his hair, his tongue in your mouth. Every kiss was different yet somehow the same, overwhelming to the senses but soothing to the soul. And when they would evolve into more, into flashes of heat and his skin against yours and his arms cradling you while your body cradled him, it was raw, it was passionate, it was perfect.
Maybe a little too raw, you think as you tape up the last box with a sigh, your hand coming down to cover your belly where a little foot or elbow just thumped.
You didn’t plan on getting pregnant. But birth control isn’t foolproof, and you can’t exactly take emergency contraceptives when you don’t remember that you forgot a pill or two in the first place.
You figured it out early enough to be able to pursue not having this baby, but you knew that wasn’t an option when the both of you teared up just discussing it. It wasn’t long before you and Jihoon were fully on board, ecstatic about every development and already aching to meet your child.
Which is why you’re here now, feeling that familiar burning behind your eyes as you reminisce on all the days and nights spent in this apartment, the one that started out as Jihoon’s then became yours too. You’ve loved this place for the past three years, but it’s not big enough for your soon to be growing family, and you’ve already put a down payment on a townhouse with rooms to spare in a great school district.
You hear Jihoon’s footsteps down the hall and swiftly blink away the saltwater welling up in your eyes, sniffling slightly and trying to keep your bottom lip from wobbling. He doesn’t ever mind when you cry, but you told him you were done and you refuse to become a liar.
The hormones don’t care, unfortunately.
One more memory puts you over the edge - the first time Jihoon ever told you he loved you. It was in this apartment, about five months after you made things official, and he walked in on you singing one of his songs while you were washing your face. You had suds all over, a fluffy headband holding your hair back, and were wearing the rattiest, comfiest pajamas you owned. He stopped short in the doorway, shook his head, and murmured, “I fuckin’ love you,” through a smile.
You froze in place, your eyes wide and filled with tears, and you asked, “Do you mean that?”
He just said, “Yeah, baby, I do,” before reaching around you to grab his toothbrush and begin his own nighttime routine. The suds were swiftly cascading towards your watery eyes so you had to rinse before you answered him, but as soon as your face was clean and relatively dry, you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind and smushed your cheek to his shoulder. Your voice was wobbly when you said, “I love you too,” and you don’t know what his face looked like but you can still remember how all the tension in his body flooded out, his muscles relaxed upon hearing that you felt the same way.
You hiccup in a sob, your hand pressed to your stomach as you think about how far you’ve come, how many memories you’ve made here.
“Baby, you alright?” Jihoon asks from the doorway, coming closer when you can’t hide the shaking of your shoulders or the hitching of your breath.
“Yeah,” you sound just as wobbly now as you did then, and it’s not a surprise when he settles behind you and tugs you into his arms. You go easily, sighing with relief when his hands slide beneath your belly to hold the weight for you, his toned chest warm against your back and his heart beating next to yours. “I’ll just miss this place.”
“I know you will, and I will too, but think about everything we’ll do in the new house. We’ll get to decorate the nursery and bring our baby home, watch her grow up, maybe give her some siblings. We’ll make that place our own just like we did this one, okay?”
“Okay,” you sniffle softly. “But let’s see how having this kid goes before we start thinking about having more.”
You feel his chest rise and fall as he laughs, and the kiss he presses to your temple has your lips quirking in a small smile.
“Deal.”
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AN: i'm not officially back but i'm getting there!