#jisung fic

note; thank u for requesting! i’m sorry if this is bad,,

nct masterlist (lnks will be added later)

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‘Sungie, it’s your turn,’ you mumble sleepily, shaking his shoulder gently.

‘Ok,’ Jisung murmurs back, ‘I’m going.’

You and Jisung had just had your first child together, a daughter named Chunae.

It was hard.

You found that you had fallen so much deeper in love with Jisung over the course of your pregnancy and the first few weeks of your little girls life. You would walk into the nursery and find Jisung asleep in the armchair with the baby on his chest, matching bottom lips sticking out. It filled your heart with so much love and pride at what you’d built with him, the happiness and home that you’d created together. For Jisung, he couldn’t believe he finally had a baby of his own. He’d seen so many of his members become fathers over the years, and had longed to become one himself for a long time. Now that he was one, it hadn’t fully sunk in yet, but he loved Chunae more than anything.

Despite this, Chunae was not an easy baby. For her first week of life, it was generally somewhat straightforward to calm down. It seemed to be one of four things; she was hungry, she needed changed, she wanted a cuddle or had a bad stomach.

These situations were fairly easy to resolve - you would breastfeed her or Jisung would give her a bottle, she would be changed, cuddled or given a stomach massage. Something Jisung loved was hearing her satisfied grunts, her little milk coma face was his favourite sight. But after a couple of weeks, the crying got worse.

Chunae would cry for hours on end, for seemingly. No reason at all. You would both desperately try to calm her, offering her bottles, giving her baths, changing the temperature in case she was too hot or cold, constant back rubs and pats, but nothing would change. She would just cry incessantly.

‘I think she might have colic,’ you sigh midway through one of these episodes.

Jisung only nods, cradling Chunae in his chest and stroking her back while she screams.

The two of you devised a sort of system that would happen when Chunae would cry. If you had not long fed her, Jisung would have to be the one to get up. He insisted on this, wanting you to rest.

‘Hi baby,’ Jisung stumbles into her nursery, rubbing his tired eyes, ‘come here.’

He leans over her crib and lifts her out gently, cradling her against his chest over the shoulder.

‘What’s the matter, hmm?’

Chunae just screams, and Jisung mentally begins preparing himself for the next couple of hours. He begins rocking Chunae in his arms, humming a random NCT Dream song quietly. He massages her back as slowly as he can, hoping to calm her, but to no avail.

‘Let’s just cuddle, okay?’ Jisung had read up a lot on colic, and how to help Chunae. The biggest tip generally was to just give cuddles, so that was what the both of you did with her most nights. Jisung sinks down into the armchair, settling Chunae so that she’s laying in his arms.

‘Don’t cry baby,’ he mumbles, ‘you’re okay. There’s no need to cry, everything’s okay.’

She quietens down a bit, but still strangled cries escape from her lips.

Being sat down with his baby daughter, it suddenly hits Jisung just how tired he is. He’s running on next to no sleep, big thick black bags under his eyes as evidence. He smells a little too, both from the lack of a regular shower and the baby powder and milk.

‘You take the life out of me,’ Jisung sighs, ‘what do I have to do to make you stop crying, huh?’

Chunae just keeps screaming.

So this was what being a father was like.

His hyungs had told him countless times that he would be awake all night with the baby, unable to stop them from crying endlessly, and just how constantly exhausted he would be. But he underestimated just how hard on him it would be. It was difficult to express sometimes. He knew you really have the brunt of it. You’re Chunae’s mother. You carried and gave birth to her, breastfeed her constantly throughout they day, and when you’re not doing that you’re pumping for bottles. Your body is tested every single day, hormones and emotions constantly running high. You’re upset and emotional, but still working so hard for your daughter. Jisung admired you so much. You were the most devoted and strong mother, and the things he had seen your body do were incredible, and it made him love you even more than he thought he could. He knew that his exhaustion wasn’t nearly as close to what you were likely feeling. Jisung tried so hard to help, taking over feeding and night time duties whenever he could to allow you to rest and take it easy. But he didn’t feel like it was fair to you to say he was tired. Despite that, this was when Jisung really felt like he had become a father. This baby in his arms was his, made from him and the person he loved most, his to take care of and attend to every need, to keep alive, to love and to mould into a happy and kind person.

Jisung sits with her for over an hour as her sobs gradually fade into weak murmurs.

‘Finally tired?’ Jisung whispers, ‘just close your eyes.’

Once Jisung is sure that she’s sound asleep, he gently lowers her into her crib, before tiptoeing out of the room.

He’s so relieved to climb back into your bed, even though his side is now cold to lie in.

‘Thank you,’ you mumble, half-asleep, ‘love you.’

Jisung kisses the side of your head and settles down into the mattress, falling asleep quickly. Until two hours later and she’s crying again.

Blurbs - Maknae Line

Description:Fluff blurbs with the maknae line!

Warning: none

Pairing:maknae line x fem!reader

Happy White Day!

Han Jisung

“Sungie! Come here.”

“Wazzup,” he replies, emerging from the couch with his nose still in his phone. You sniffle a laugh as you tuck away your shoes and walk up to him.

“Jisung~” you call again. At last, he looks up. When he sees what you are holding in your hands, he nearly drops his phone.

“W-what are these? Did someone else buy you flowers?” 

You shake your head and thrust the bouquet towards your boyfriend. “I bought them myself. They’re for you.”

“M-me?” he stutters, still confused. “But I’m a man!” Despite his words, a smile sneaks onto his face as he takes the arrangement into his embrace. 

“So?” you shrug, heading for his restroom.

When you come out, you find him still standing in the foyer staring and sniffing at the flowers. A grin splits your face as you skip up to him and snake your arms around his waist. You rest your chin on his shoulder and peer down at the bouquet for yourself. “Do you like them?” 

Your presence seems to pull him out of his trance.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. They remind me of you.”

Lee Felix

Felix walks into the room, surprised to see his wife already under the covers. However, you seem to be on the wrong side of the bed.

“Switching things up?” he asks, changing into sleepwear. 

You shake your head and roll to your side once he is ready for bed.

“Hmm,” he hums contently. “Nice and toasty.” Then the realization hits him. He looks over to you with a growing smile. “Were you here to warm up the spot for me? Because I had that shoot in the snow today?” 

You nod shyly, and his smile reaches its maximum. He opens his arms and you quickly crawl into them. 

“Here, let me warm you up too.”

Kim Seungmin

He lays down on the couch and pulls on his Eeyore onesie to get a little more comfortable. Why did he agree to chaperone his cousin’s girl scout outing when he isn’t allowed to share a bedroom with anyone?

“Are you asleep?”

He knows why. He sits up on the couch and sees you, the troop’s leader, in your Piglet onesie, rubbing your eyes. You must have been finishing checking up on your girls and didn’t realize that you don’t need to on him.

“Just about to,” he replies. 

“Do you need anything?” Your speech is between a mumble and a slur. It’s been a long day, and he wonders if you are even awake enough to realize who you’re actually talking to.

“A good night kiss?” he jokes.

“Okay.” You stumble over, and before he can even react, you grab his head and leave a peck on his crown. Alright. You definitely don’t realize who he is. Are you even awake, or just sleepwalking?

When you pull back, he stares at you with full-blown eyes. You’re grinning goofily and grabbing the ends of Eeyore’s ears, swinging them to and fro. 

“Cute,” you giggle, and he goes beet red.

Yang Jeongin

It’s a lazy Sunday. You’re in bed, scrolling through your phone with your cat napping on your chest. Your husband walks through the door, and you lift your eyes to greet him

“Hi— Why do you look suspicious?”

Suddenly, his lips split into a wide grin. Before you even realize what’s happening, he’s grabbed the cat and bolted out of the room. A loud “meow” can be heard from the kitchen followed by rapid approaching footsteps. Your husband reappears and olympic dives into bed, burying his head where the cat had been. Of course, the feline is not far behind. She jumps up next to you and swats at Jeongin’s face.

“No,” he pouts, pushing her away. “She’s mine.”

You laugh and kiss his hair which makes him hum. “Was that necessary?”

“Of course,” he coos at your touch. 

You give him another kiss. Secretly though, you are rubbing the cat behind the ears and tucking her under your other arm.

~ ad.gold

Description: Y/N and Jisung finally grew to love each other after their arranged marriage. However, not every marriage gets a happily ever after. Sequel to Even If Things Were Different.

Warning:miscarriage

Word Count: 1.9k

Pairing:fem!reader x Han Jisung

“THAT’S MY WIFE! THAT’S MY WIFE! PLEASE, I— THAT’S MY WIFE!” 

Jisung thrashes and thrashes, but the police firmly hold him back. People are talking over radios and cars are honking in traffic on the other lanes, but he can still hear every rock your gurney rolls over and every puff of air they squeeze into your lungs. He can barely see you through the swarms of first responders and reporters though. All he can see is your limp arm hanging off the stretcher, your wedding ring staining with blood.

“Please. Please! That’s my wife,” he wails. “That’s my wife. Y/N! Please. Y/N!”

Jisung walks down the hall, looking at the cup of tea in his hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots some flashing lights that make him jump and all the hairs on his back stand up.

“Y/N.”

His heart is still pounding in his ears from the scare, but he soon realizes the lights are just from a Christmas tree twinkling in the corner. He sighs and shakes his head before continuing on his way, his shoes clicking against the white tiles with every step.

He slides the door to your room open. The humidifier hums softly. The sheets are spread smoothly over your body. A select stack of books sit neatly on the coffee table. 

It’s quiet. 

He walks over and places the cup on your nightstand. You are turned away from him, and he can’t tell if you are actually sleeping.

“It’s chamomile.”

No response.

He sighs and crawls under the sheets. He wraps his arm around your waist and gently rubs circles on your belly. The skin still resembles an orange peel with all its bumps and crevices. 

“I love you,” he whispers.

He feels you curl up ever so slightly at his words. So you are awake.

“This doesn’t change anything.” He uncurls you so you lay a bit more flush against his chest. You haven’t washed your hair in days, but he still closes his eyes and snuggles his nose into it. He hopes you can feel a second heartbeat in your body again if he holds himself close enough to you.

How did this happen? It’s Christmas Eve. It’s supposed to be merry and bright, so how. How did this happen? 

It was supposed to be a short errand. You were just going to pick up some extra ribbons to wrap up the pacifiers you were going to give your and his parents. Now, there is no more use for those gifts.

He would wish for a Christmas miracle, but there is no point. It’s not as if what has been taken out can go back in. Now, he just wishes you’d talk to him and eat something. He’s never seen you stop for anything—not when you had to get married or even when you threw up every morning—but now you’ve come to a complete halt. It’s so hard to see you like this, and it scares Jisung so much, he hasn’t even had time to cry yet.

“It’s not your fault.” He knows his words are futile, but he has to say them anyway. 

You, of course, remain motionless. He sighs again and lets his mind wander. If anything, it’s his fault. He should have been there. Who would let a woman in your condition drive at night? Sure, it was just a five minute commute, but anything could happen in five minutes, and something did. It’s his fault the hope you’ve been holding onto for five months is now gone. It’s his fault you are now like this. He’s killed your and his dreams. He’s killed the what-if’s. All that’s left now are memories.

He remembers the day you told him the news. You were a little nervous; you weren’t sure how he’d react. He remembers you were happy though. No, that’s an understatement. You were overflowing with so much joy, you could barely contain yourself. Usually, you were calm and composed. That day though, he could tell something was special the moment he stepped through the door.

You greeted him with a smile that made his stomach flutter away. 

“I made lemonade,” you told him. You said it like you made Forbes’ front cover. “Would you like some?”

“Sure,” he replied. 

“Great. Meet me in the kitchen.”

He did as told, sliding into one of the chairs by the counter as you pulled out two tall glasses from the cupboard. You set them down on the marble and turned back around to bring out a smaller glass which you set between the first two.

Jisung looked at you curiously. You began filling the two taller glasses with lemonade, eyes flicking up every other second to read his expression. Finally, when you were done, you took his hand and guided it to pour some of the juice from his glass into the smaller one. You then took your glass and poured some of that into the smaller cup. After that, you sat down with your fingers laced in front of you, watching as his brows knit together as he tried to figure out what just happened.

You giggled the second you saw the realization hitting him. First, his eyes grew impossibly big and his jaw dropped to the ground. Then he looked at you to confirm his suspicions. 

“Is it— Are you— Is there a—!” He couldn’t finish a sentence, and you couldn’t control your giggles.

“Yes, I am.”

He leapt across the table and screamed of joy as he swung you around. He put you down quickly though and took a step back. “No wait. I can’t do that anymore. You’re carrying precious cargo now.”

You laughed and pulled him into a hug. “Are you happy?”

“So much so. So incredibly much so,” he hummed. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

You turned your head to rest your ear against his racing heart. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” His emotions rolled into a tear that trickled down his face.

He wonders if it was all a dream. He wonders if happiness only exists inside dreams. He didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep until the lights from the window made him grimmance.

“—ung! Jisung!” 

His eyelids fly open at the sound of your panicked voice. He looks and sees you sitting up, your hand reaching out for him and your face etched with worry.

“Y-Y/N, you’re sitting—”

“Are you okay?” you ask.

He nods, too stunned to make a noise.

You sigh in relief and collapse back down, facing him this time. “You were shaking and crying. I thought something was wrong. I thought I was going to lose you too. I thought… I thought…” 

“Shh, shh, shh.” He draws you close again. 

“You’re alright, right?” Your voice is muffled against him. “You promise? You aren’t going to leave me behind too, right?”

“I’ll always be by your side. I promise,” he assures you. “I just had a dream.”

You nod against his chest and sniffle. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Dizzy.” Of course, you went on full flight-or-fight mode after being on an IV drip for almost a week. Still, you replied, and Jisung feels a huge wave of relief wash through him.

“You really love me, don’t you?” he chuckles.

“Of course,” you mumble.

“And I really love you.”

You pause for a minute, and he panics, thinking he’s pushed you too far. Finally though, in a small voice, you say, “But I lost her.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not—”

“No, but it is!” He can hear the panic rising again in your voice. “I was driving! I should have seen the headlights. I should have swerved lanes. On impact, I should have protected her more. I should have done something. Don’t you see? I lost her. Me.”

He grabs your hands and forces you to look into his eyes to slow you down. He has on a scowl, and he speaks firmly and pointedly. “Welost her. There’s things you could have done differently. There’s things I could have done differently. There’s things that no one could have possibly done differently. But the fact of the matter is, this is our reality, and we’re going to face it together. I won’t let you go through this alone, so Y/N, don’t make me go through it alone either, okay?”

You pause for another minute. This time, he knows you are thinking about his words. When you seem to have come to a conclusion, you drop your head back onto him. He then feels you drawing something on his back. Your signature, he realizes, to this agreement. Perhaps there is still room for a little Christmas miracle after all.

Christmas eve. It’s been just over a year now since the accident. Jisung raises a brow when you walk into the living room in a red sweater. Red. It’s a sign of life and a sign of celebration. The last time you were seen with that color was when you were in the back of an ambulance. In fact, that was the last time you were seen wearing any color.

You sit up straight with your knees pressed together and your hands folded in your lap. In other words, you are sitting much too properly for a couch in your own home. 

“Y/N?” Jisung calls carefully. “What’s the matter, love?”

“I’m… I’m scared.”

He uncrosses his legs and sits up too. “Why? What’s wrong?”

You look down at your lap then at him. “I’m scared to hope. I’m scared something will go wrong again. I’m scared to hurt you.”

He scoots next to you and wraps his arm around your shaking torso. You look so small under his arm. He wraps his other hand around the front and shields you with his body. Gently, he rubs his thumbs over your skin, letting his actions speak the words his lips cannot.

You take a long moment to absorb his strength before you’re able to hand him a rectangular gift box about the length of his hand. 

“Merry Christmas,” you barely squeak.

He takes it while still keeping an arm around you. He looks at the box, then at you, then at the box. Finally, he lifts off the top cover.

He doesn’t react as he stares at what’s inside. After an eternity, he sets the present aside and turns so that he is completely facing you. He takes your hands and looks you square in the eyes.

“The doctor said there’s an increased risk after what happened,” you ramble, nervous under his sudden gaze. “What if—”

He cuts you off. “Hope. Please, hope. Hope, and be happy. Be happy knowing you can hope, and hope because you know there is love supporting that hope. No matter what—”

“—I love you,” you finish for him.

He smiles and nods. You smile too and wrap your arms behind his waist. 

“Do you like your present?” you ask.

The fireplace crackles. “I love it. Thank you.”

You hum and close your eyes, falling asleep. Jisung brushes the hair from your face and plants a kiss on your temple. Outside, a bright star twinkles over the house. 

“Merry Christmas, my love.”