#i saw your tags on my fic and i love you!

[angelltheninth]

Could I request Neuvillette getting a lip-biting, toe-curling blowjob from his s/o in his office?

Toe curling, tail curling all of it will happen.

Pairing: Neuvillette x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, blowjobs, office sex, under the desk, growling and whimpering, Neuvillette has a tail

Word count: 1k

Ao3

A/N: First full fic on this blog!

You strode into the Judge's office like you owned the place, with your head held high and a mischievous gleam in your eyes. A gleam that Neuvillette saw right away. "My love, I have work to do." He spoke up immediately. If he didn't he would give you an inch and you would take a mile.

"And I'm here to tell you that don't. You're done for the today, everyone's already gone home and you're still here, writing... whatever." You weren't gonna let him spend another night cooped up alone in his office. If you have to drag him out of here you will do so. "I know you're ancient and powerful and not a human but this isn't healthy Neuvillette."

Neuvillette glanced up at you and sighed heavily. You could tell he's been sitting for too long, his posture was tense, stiff. In the back of your mind you wondered what it was like for him when he didn't have anyone to drag him away from his job. Did he ever take a break?

"I'll be done in a few hours. I'm sorry but if I stop now it will be hard to get back into my work flow." Neuvillette explained.

"Aren't I here to help you with that? Come on, we take the rest of the day off and then come back rested and relaxed. What better way to handle stressful work?" You rounded the desk and tilted his chin towards you with the tips of your fingers. He was cool to the touch, "You know I'm right, your Honor."

He groaned at your attempt to entice him. Strong as he was he was weak against you. Very weak. "A few more papers then."

You straightened out with a huff. If you couldn't make him relax out side of the office then you'll do so in his office. A simple massage won't do, not when he's been working all day. Working... and pent up. Without saying a work you pushed your way past his legs and beneath his desk.

"Did you drop somethi-ah- hah!" Neuvillette breath stopped in his lungs as you pressed your lips against his clothed crotch, sucking and kissing until you felt his cock stirring. "Darling... is it... smart to do this here?" He was careful but not protesting or pushing you away. Neuvillette had a very tight lid on his lust, it took a little bit of work to get him comfortable enough to show it.

"Why not in here? You fucked me over this very desk just last week. There are claw marks still on it. Besides," You poked your head out from between his legs while you undid his pants, "what better way for you to unwind and get back to work uninterrupted then your pretty mate sucking all the stress out of you?"

Claws. Mate. Sucking. Those words made the normally calm man growl in approval and anticipation. "Harlot."

"Old man." You grinned at him as you pulled his cock out, feeling the slightly ribbed texture pulsing in your hand, hard and strong. Even this part of him felt slightly colder then a regular human cock. "Don't let me stop you from working."

How was he supposed to work or even look at the papers on his desk when the most beautiful sight was under it. Your lips wrapped tight around his tip, your cheeks hollowed out and your eyes swimming full of lust. Gradually you took in more, more until your nose touched the blue and silver pubes just above his cock. His gloved hand pressed against your cheek, confirming that he was not planning on working while you sucked his cock.

"Go on then. You wanted me didn't you? Now you have me." You did have him. And you had his cock pushing against the back of your throat. You licked the ridges on the underside, letting your tongue drag up slowly as you pulled your head up. Fuck, even his cum tasted cool against your tongue.

You let go of his cock with a wet pop and swiped your tongue against his tip. His groan was immediately followed by a sound of crinkling paper. He cursed under his breath when you bend your head all the way down again. As you swallowed around him length you felt something sneaking around your ankle and then your hips. His tail was strong but soft against your body, secure and safe, almost protective. But also keeping you from moving away from his cock.

This was his silent way of making sure you finish what you started.

You never planned on leaving him hard. That would defeat the propose. You bobbed your head up and down faster and faster, making sue the tip of his cock went in as deep as it could go. You didn't stop as he moaned, you didn't stop as the end of his tail caressed your hip.

"Sweetheart, I'm gonna come." He warned expecting you to pull away not go all the way down again and stay there. Neuvillette moaned your name, his gloves ruined when his claws popped out and his cock shot hot jets of cum into your talented mouth.

You welcomed the onslaught, swallowing with gusto. Your eyes teared up slightly but you refused to pull away to take a breath until he stopped coming.

"Feeling relaxed now, your Honor?" You asked with cum covered lips and a grin.

"I don't know what I feel." His brain was still struggling to catch up with his body. You helped him tuck himself back into his pants and got up from under the desk. Looking down at it you saw new claw marks on it. This was gonna be very fun to explain. "Please go clean yourself up. I can't focus with you looking like that."

With his cum dripping down your chin that is.

When you came back he was already working again. However instead of a distraction you pulled up a chair to the opposite side of the desk and started looking through papers that you could handle. Under the desk you felt Neuvillette's tail wrap around your ankle once more, as a thanks for helping him finish early.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #neuvillette imagines #genshin impact fanfics #genshin fanfic #neuvillette fanfic #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #neuvillette smut #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #neuvillette x you #genshin impact x female reader #genshin x female reader #neuvillette x female reader #x female reader

[marchsfreakshow]

Role Reversal [JJ Maybank]

SMUT // short drabble.

To say you're obsessed with JJ is an understatement, you love the idea of bringing him down from that high horse he rides constantly.

OOPS TAKE ANOTHER OUTERBANKS FIC, but for JJ. Thank you to my sis @babygorewhore for helping me with this. I'm so sorry this took me so long my silly ass forgot.

Warnings! Liminal mention of plot, pure smut, riding, praise kink, Dom!reader, switch!JJ, mama nickname, oral (f receive) crud smut writing :p

18+! MINORS DNI - READ MY SFW WORKS

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

"god JJ..." You whined, gripping at small parts of his hair. He kept his thumb on your sensitive clit, kitten licking your entrance over and over. It made your back arch, when he looked up at you. It was like they pierced through you, making sure he saw how well he was pleasuring you. His ego was hungry for your moans, like praise without the words to match. Physical praise in the form of your toes curling, and your fingers gripping the pillow.

"good girl." He mumbled. You looked at him when he stopped touching you. It made you let out a whine, but he brought himself up. "you're so good for me."

You raised an eyebrow and held his chin, pulling him close to you. "I think you're better at being good for me, touching me so well." Your sudden comeback of dominance made him groan quietly. His eyes screwed shut from feeling your free hand palm his cock through his boxers. "Eyes on me pretty boy." The man ontop of you gave into your request and opened his eyes, almost baring his soul into yours.

When he looked into your eyes, you sat up and moved. You were now straddling JJ and desperately tugging his boxers off underneath you. He went quiet and hummed as you moved, watching the way your eyes were stuck to his cock. Your slick cunt made it easy for you to slip and take him in fully. Filling you up with one little thrust, the man underneath you gripped the skin at your hips, nails digging into them. The pain of his nails only added to how good you felt at that moment. "Mama...oh fuck-" JJ couldn't help his moans, whispering your name along with screaming out with you.

Satisfied with his noises, you gave a little hum before the slaps of his cock in you got louder, faster, over and over again. "mama.." He couldn't stop himself from repeating it into your ear, hickeys being layed over your chest and one right on that cute stomach of yours. "Please, fuck- 'm gonna bust if you don't-"

"cum in me like a good boy." Your harsh words cut him off. JJ panted harshly as he thrust hard twice before slamming into you. Both of you let out a whine as you throbbed quickly, milking JJ of anything else.

Despite you barely doing any of the work, you fell gently onto his chest, feeling the rise and fall as he caught his breath. "Good boy. So good.." You quietly mentioned, your arms around his shoulders and a sudden empty feeling as he finally pulled out of you. "Love you darlin'." Left you as he possessively held you, adoring you.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

"love you too mama.."

Tag: @slvt4jamesmarch @redhead1180 @xxbimbobunnyxx

#outer banks #obx #obx fic #smut #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #outer banks fanfiction #obx smut #obx imagine #jj maybank smut

[predestinatos]

“I Know” — CL16 + MV1

chapter 1 chapter 2

summary: the game doesn't stop once you leave the court OR part 2 of my challengers fic.

word count: 2.5k

tags: charles leclerc x fem! reader x max verstappen, smut, angst, fluff, everything really, complex relationship, implied cheating but also not how you expect it. MINORS DNI - WARNINGS UNDERNEATH

note: i have been loving writing this and exploring these characters and their dynamics. this chapter is shorter BUT that's because charles won in monaco and i felt like this would be a good celebration :) i hope u all enjoy it lovelies!

warnings: fingering (fem!receiving), dirty talking (a lot)

12:55AM

"Actually, I came here to tell you to lose" you said, crossing your arms in front of your chest defensively as the man looked down at you.

"Did you, now?" he asked, a finger raising your chin up towards him. Another joke, another teasing moment you couldn't run away from, couldn't resist despite your attempts at doing so.

He saw you merely nod. Part of him exhaled a short laugh, but another looked away from you. He was better than this. Better yet, you were better than this, much better. He also knew you were looking at him precisely how he wanted you to, a pleading in your eyes to succumb to the inevitable – but also a pleading to move away, to delay that inevitably for as long as possible.

He knew if he looked down again it would be over. You bit your lip as you stared at his tight jaw, at hints of a growing stubble across his face, at how everything about his body seemed to be a fight against itself.

"Charles" you called, unsure if he had heard it. He couldn't bear hearing your voice calling his name, and the stark, sudden change from his confident attitude to this restrained one was visible as he closed his eyes and swallowed dryly. "Hm?" was all he could reply. Was all he could bear to mutter without giving away the turmoil of his own mind.

"You're in the way."

YEARS EARLIER.

Max's hand was on your inner thigh and fighting against his mind to go much higher than that. You noticed the mole on his upper lip as he spoke, mostly because you tried to focus on his face more than his touch, afraid of letting it consume you.

"Did it actually matter? The winner?" he asked you. He pondered this many times after the match, head going back and forth between answers.

"It did to you both" you answered. He wasn't expecting it, really, yet he understood what you meant completely. Something about his relationship with Charles changed, and contrary to what was expected, it did so for the better.

"He thinks he knows what he wants" Max heard himself say, eyes locked on yours. He dared his hand to move upwards, just slightly, as if you wouldn't notice. As if his touch didn't make itself feel across your entire body.

"And what is that?" his face was so close to yours you were dizzy from holding back, dizzy by the sheer need you had to taste him again.

"Winning."

You raised an eyebrow at his answer, so bold yet calculated, hinting at something else, something more.

Both of you seemed aware of how talking about the other man ignited even more desire in you, excited you even more than it probably should.

"But he forgets why he wants it, what he truly wants. I never did." he continued, brushing your hair away from your neck in order to gain better access to it.

It was too much for you - how he seemed to know the right thing to do to send you just over the edge, to drive you to the limits of madness as your body yearned for him.

You took a deep breath, "Hm and what is it, Max?" he left sloppy, wet kisses along your neck now, as he realized he had won, pulling away only to smirk triumphantly, to admire his victory, looking at him almost completely disheveled already.

"You" his hand was as far up as it could now, leaving you completely vulnerable to how much he affected you. "So wet... And for who?" his question was a dare, a test of your honesty as his fingers brushed your clit. You could deny it, sure, but he knew the truth.

"For you" you said; an answer that was rewarded with a finger dipping slowly inside you, every inch of it felt as Max pushed inside you. He had to fight himself hard as he felt you tighten against his finger. Had to fight the urge to consume you fully right there and then because most of all he wanted to win.

"Why for me?" he asked, regaining control or convincing himself of it, another finger entering you and feeling how nicely you accomodated for him and him only. He was hard, his body craved the feeling of you around him, your wetness and heavy breath driving him to insanity and yet... and yet he let it hurt a bit. For he knew the long term pleasure would be bigger.

"Because you won" you answered, succumbing to him as his fingers curled inside you.

2:45PM

Cameras flashed in your direction inside the bustling studio. For brief minutes, your mind was focused on nothing but your own body and the camera, movements flowing through you and evoking new poses as you modeled.

It was good; to be distracted from Max, his tournament and the stress added to it. Too good to be true as you looked past the lights and photographers to a figure standing behind them, one that you were all too familiar with.

And now you were distracted once again, the double negatives not making positive. He was fit - tennis was doing him good, just as it was Max. His shoulders were broad and biceps more prominent in his polo shirt which hugged him tightly. He could only be mocking you. His awareness of how the timing conditioned every interaction between you and him couldn't go unnoticed - provocation written across his face as he admired you.

"Can we take 5?" you heard yourself say, unable to focus now that his presence haunted every picture like a ghost.

Charles watched as you got closer to him, wondering when exactly did he let you stray so further away from him, taking Max alongside you. He was a dick, really. His attitude was never the most humble or polite, not like his (now ex) best friend, who seemed to be more composed even in his nervousness.

Charles composed nature was more arrogant and overconfident, despite concealing little to nothing about his actual feelings. He wasn't familiar with insecurity the way Max was, so he never learned how to fake it that well.

You stopped in front of him, holding a cup filled with fruit as hunger crept up inside you now that you weren't focused on work.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you asked, a loud whisper, a soft yell that made Charles wonder how that could even be possible. It clicked, then. Max could yell silently. He couldn't. But it wasn't sad to notice this, it actually amused him, the irony of him being the odd one out but also the inescapable one, the one unpredictable factor in both of your lives.

"Hello to you too, sweetheart" he replied, taking a grape from your cup and popping it into him mouth as he smiled. His boasting attitude made you roll your eyes. It took all the restraint in the world not to snap back at him.

He liked that about you. How your eyebrows furrowed, how your mouth turned into a slight frown of annoyance. How easy it was to get under your skin. How he knew that you loved it.

"Just came to say hi and wish you two luck for later" he continued, not wanting to part ways from you just yet, knowing he hadn't pushed all of your buttons yet.

"Max doesn't need your good luck" you replied. You noticed how you were always more defensive of him, sometimes almost mothering him.

Charles' cool toned eyes looked down at you as he bit his lip. He got you, now. He knew that. "But you do."

"I don't need anything from you" the cup was now becoming humid in your hands, threatening to slip as you tightened your grip on it.

"Are you sure?" his question was risky. Maybe too risky. He wasn't careful, evoking ghosts of Christmas Past into the conversation; things you had agreed to act like they didn't happen because pride spoke louder than lust in the list of sins.

You turned around now, tired of listening to him, irritated at the image he had brought to the table of your minds. Your body on his, his hands gripping your hair tightly as your legs wrapped around his waist.

"I'm not you side piece" he said. No, he chanted, teasingly, daringly. And as he saw you stopping in your tracks he knew he had hit a nerve, got you precisely where he wanted yoi.

"The only piece you are is a piece of shit"

YEARS EARLIER.

If Charles focused hard enough - really, really hard - maybe he could fight his own body against reacting as hard as it was to Max's secrecy regarding what happened between you two.

"You know, I don't kiss and tell" he said, hands behind his head as he layed down in his bed. They shared a room - they always did, it was natural, something they did so often they didn't even think about it anymore, like breathing or riding a bike,

"You're such an asshole, I'd never do this to you" Charles replied, fake annoyance in his tone as he threw his pillow at his friend's face.

"I may be. But I'm the asshole who won" the pillow flew to its initial place once again, hitting Charles' bed and then the floor, almost in a defeated position itself.

Charles knew something had had happened, mainly because he thought about it so much he knew he had made the thought into a reality. Maybe he was going insane, looking at Max and imagining you under him, your bodies intertwined and faces filled with pleasure. He wondered if it was jealousy or lust that filled him - if there even was a difference. And if it was jealous, who or what was he jealous of?

Running a hand through his hair, he tried to focus. He was upset because he lost. It didn't matter what, he would always be upset over losing; yet this time it pained him more. He had lost to both of you, lost to himself by being left out of something he so desperately wanted.

"I'll beat you someday" Charles said, trying to keep up the joyful mood.

"Will it matter then?" Max asked. It was an innocent question, yet it was also a test: to his own rationality, to Charles' emotions and to where they stood in their friendship.

They locked eyes with each other and for a second the room was so quiet it might've been paused by someone's remote, the silence engulfing them both like a wave.

But as soon as it came, it disappeared. And Charles shrugged, picked up his pillow from the carpeted hotel floor and replied "I think it will to her"

Max allowed himself to close his eyes for a second, wondering if he should speak or not. He laughed at his own twisted thoughts, questioning his own morality as he felt his blood pumping through his veins.

"You know this just makes it hotter for me, right?" he asked his friend in the bed only a bedside table away frim him. "You wanting my girlfriend, all intense and shit."

Charles knew this. He was fighting similar feelings, knowing part of your allure also lied in their own desire for you.

What they didn't know is that you shared these thoughts, your attraction towards both of these men relying not only on their own selves but on their fight for you and each other.

11:00PM

You fidgeted with your wedding ring, looking at the way it adorned your long fingers. You looked at his hand then, both so different from each other.

You were a good wife, weren't you? You supported Max, you listened to him and you made him laugh. You cared about him more than anything else, though that was harder to admit.

Aren't people allowed to have flaws? Wasn't Charles his flaw as well? Wasn't he on the back of both of your minds, wasn't he just another reason why you loved each other so much?

"He went to my workplace today" you said as his head rested on your lap, smooth skin caressing his face. His body stiffened, yet it didn't seem like nervousness was the emotion affecting him.

"I think he's nervous." You continued, knowing his silence was a code for you to keep going.

He chuckled at your words. "About playing against me or you watching him?"

"I think it's more about you watching him than anything." More silence followed. He didn't want to argue with you, not when your touch felt so comforting and your words melted into his ears. "He likes you"

"He respects me" This time he retorted, his hand holding your arm as if in an attempt to wake you up from whatever sleep you were in.

"Same difference" you shrugged.

"For you, it is."

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1blr #f1 fandom #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #f1 smut #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen smut

[hwanchaesong]

┗🖋️ Behind the victory is a spice / Ball tagged onto the prize / Then the touch is nothing but a vice / Inhaled not once, but thrice 📖

🎧: Taylor Swift - The Alchemy

wc: 1.6k

genre & warnings: fluffff, tinier than a dust angst, college setting, football player!Riki, inaccurate game of football, cursing, mentions of beer, appearnce of other enha members, bisco and konon as special guests, etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The Tortured Poets Department series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

The incessant knocking on your door made your head ache even worse, the scowl that greeted the person behind the annoying sounds disappeared when you saw who it was.

"Riki, I told you I don't want t- oh? Konon? What are you doing here?" you frowned apologetically at the girl, to which she only shrugged off.

"I'm here to give you this." she hands you a piece of clothing, a familiar one and you can't help the nose scrunch.

"Uh.. thanks. Take care on your way back." you mumbled, not believing that your boyfriend has to send his sister here in order to accomplish his mission.

"Wait!" she hurriedly says, stopping you from closing the door, "I know that my brother is an idiot for doing what he did. But he does love you, given that he's been sulking since your fight."

You laughed a bit at the snitching, imagining the tall boy pouting, "Thank you so much, Konon. Don't worry, we'll work things out."

She waves her hand, "I'm not worried in the slightest!" she giggles, "He deserves the silent treatment, but I do hope that you'll attend his game."

You nod, bidding each other goodbyes and you sigh. Looking at the item in your hand before spreading the oversized fabric out, a small piece of paper falling from it.

You raised an eyebrow, picking the paper up and examining its contents and it gave you a major facepalm moment. Still, finding it uniquely endearing.

Good day to the prettiest girl who is reading this! You have been given the honor to attend my (Nishimura Riki aka your boyfriend) game tomorrow at exactly 4 PM.

Please encircle your answer from the following options:

1. Yes

2. Yes

3. All of the above

Thank you! (ily)

You rolled your eyes at the silly content of his letter, tucking it gently on your coffee table and proceeding to your room to match the jersey with fashionable pants.

He basically wants you to come, so might as well give in. Besides, their team calls you their lucky charm. So you do have to attend either way, or else those rowdy boys will bust your ear out at uni.

---------------------------------------------------

Riki nervously looks around the stadium, eyeing for the familiar figure that he hasn't seen for days. (and it kills him deep inside but he would NEVER admit it)

"She'll come." one of his teammates, Heeseung, pats his back when the older noticed his anxious expression, "We explicitly told her to attend our matches because she brings us good luck. She'll come."

"True that." Jake butts in, giving the younger a comforting side hug, "Now stop pouting and let's do the huddle."

Riki gets hauled into the middle of the field, joining the nestle of hyping the team up, but he couldn't fucking concentrate.

Focusing was proven difficult if he hasn't seen or felt your presence before a game, and it shows.

It was clear to anyone with eyes that their japanese star player had something in his mind- you.

He is getting icky, his teammates were exasperated as well. They are 5 points behind and they are all shouting for Riki to get that touchdown.

Can he do it?

---------------------------------------------------

You took a deep breath when you heard the loud cheers inside the stadium. Wiping your clammy hands on your denim pants and boosting yourself up to go in there. 

Finally, you entered the arena, the bright lights blinding you for a second as you took some time to adjust. Moving through the plethora of watchers is a damn journey, finding the VIP spot that is always reserved for you. 

You sighed out of relief when you saw the seat was not taken because for real, you did overthink that someone might have stolen your place. 

Your eyes scanned the area, gazing at the scoreboard then towards the players. You hear their coach yelling, then you focus on the man that you had been avoiding for a while. 

Football is something that you never truly understand, sports in general, but your beloved is passionate about it. That is why amidst your studies, you put in the maximum effort to learn about it. That is why you can confidently say that you somehow understand the situation after analyzing what is happening.

Expanding your lung capacity, clutching on the metal bars that separate the bleachers from the field, you did the unexpected.

“Nishimura fucking Riki! If you don’t score a touchdown, I will not cook your favorite bungeoppang anymore!” you screamed like a madman, and it was like thunder struck the stadium as your voice echoed throughout the field. 

Who knew that L/N Y/N has the power to momentarily stop the whole crowd from cheering and the players to stop moving. 

Riki grins widely, scouting the bleachers and seeing you in the same seat that he has always saved for you during his games. 

The boy gave you a salute and even if you can’t clearly see his face due to his helmet, you know that he’s sporting a smug and victorious expression because you can’t resist him. 

Blood rushed into your cheeks and you tried to hide your embarrassment, concentrating on the game instead as the world started spinning again. 

You watched your school team defend like their life depended on it, more importantly, you stared intently at Riki’s running form, getting nearer to the end zone. 

You clasped your hands together, adrenaline coursing through your veins, praying for him to go for it. To win this and make you proud. 

And he did. 

Before the time ended, Riki successfully reaches the ball behind the plane of the opponent’s goal line. The side of your university in the arena went nuts when the broadcaster announced an overdramatic: "Number 10, Nishimura Riki, scores a touchdown! That makes Decelis University our champions for this year's league!” 

You clap your hands in celebration, beaming in happiness as you witness the chaotic scene in the field. The whole team is popping beers and splashing water, removing their shirts wildly, throwing their helmets, squawking like crazy and lifting the man who set the winning shot up in the air. 

Just then, Riki’s eyes meet yours and he immediately runs over to you, ignoring the trophy that was being handed to him by their coach. He does not give a fuck about the barrier separating you two, hoisting you above it, making you squeal around his arms. 

“Oh my god! Riki! No, let me go!” you laugh, gripping his shoulders for support as he walks back to his teammates.

“No can do, princess.” he smirks, raising you even further and declaring you as the team’s personal four-leaf clover. 

All members howl in excitement, agreeing with his statement because truly, ever since they met you, everything has been going their way. You are an amulet that blocks any ill-fated situations that might fall upon them.

“Put me down, Riki! This is embarrassing!” you covered your face with your hands and he finds it incredibly adorable how the tips of your ears turned pink. 

He follows you though, smoothly setting you on the grass field and gently removing the obstacle that interrupts him from getting a peek on your gorgeous face that he missed dearly. 

He holds your hands in his stupidly large ones, his fingers caressing your knuckles and he leans down until your noses are touching each other. 

“Thank you for coming, my princess. And wearing my jersey too.” he mumbles and you disconnect your intertwined hands, reaching to push his sweaty hair back and resting your palms on the back of his neck.

“I can’t possibly miss an important game of my MVP, right?” you chuckled and it was such a tender moment. Like no one was around you, well, in your point of view they are all blurry as the man in front of you invades all of your senses.

Riki hums, holding your waists and pressing your lips together without any further ado. 

He can’t help but smile into the kiss, the reality of having you in his arms like this outweighs any shiny prizes that he could ever dream of. 

---------------------------------------------------

You giggled when your boyfriend kept on leaving feathery smooches on the expanse of your neck, frowning when he suddenly stopped to look at you with such sassiness.

“By the way, you have to explain yourself, missy.” he says, tightly holding onto you as you two cuddle on the sofa. 

“About what?”

“About why you’re late at my game yesterday.” 

It was like a light bulb turned on in your brain, a wicked smile on your face that it somehow scared Riki despite being a menace himself.

“Well, I still haven’t forgiven you for the shit you pulled last week.” you admit and he groans, complaining that he only lent the jacket to some unknown girl to make you jealous. 

“Exactly!” you pout, grabbing his face and squishing his face, making him look like a baby duck, “So I have to do something about it.” 

Riki raised an eyebrow, suddenly curious at your story.

“What did you do?” a question that Riki regretted when you spilled the answer to it.

“I went and retrieved the jacket from the girl,” you put a finger on his lips, “don’t ask how I got her address. Then I gave the abomination to Bisco. He really loved playing with it, turning it into tiny little pieces of fabric. Very artistic.”

Riki’s movements came to a halt, his eyes slowly moving towards his pet who is currently chilling on the carpet, giving him a nasty side eye when he lightly glared at the Maltipoo. Then his gaze returned to you, gaping like a fish. 

“That jacket was expens-”

“The jacket smelled like a girl, unless you want it back?” the tight smile you gave Riki was enough sign for him to shut up.

“No, princess.” he hugs you closer to him, leaving a peck on the crown of your head, “I don’t want it. I can always buy another one.” 

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@ramenoil @shakalakaboomboo @slutforjeno

#enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen reactions #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #niki imagines #niki fluff #niki angst #niki smut #niki x reader #niki scenarios #niki hard thoughts #niki hard hours #nishimura riki imagines #nishimura riki fluff #enhypen fanfiction #nishimura riki angst #nishimura riki x reader #riki imagines #riki fluff #heeseung imagines #jay imagines #jake imagines #sunghoon imagines #sunoo imagines #jungwon imagines

[beabnormal24]

I just saw that you’re writing Carcar fic, a snippet pls 🙏

I love your stories so much so I’m really excited ❤️

This is the first thing that I read when I wake up, thank you so much anon because this means a lot to me, so I'll do it.

(I edited this post, 'cause I had a bit of trouble publishing it)

Soo, a not-so-little snippet for you!

“Mate, I honestly think you’re just exaggerating. It doesn’t sound like that big of a deal to me, really.” Logan stretches his legs out, knocking his feet right against Oscar’s knee. 

Oscar grumbles in lieu of an answer, lowering his head until he can hide his gaze in the bottom of his pint. 

“Don’t know why you hate the guy so much; he seems alright to me.” 

The thing is, Oscar Piastri does not hate Carlos Sainz.

Hate is too strong of a word for an individual with whom Oscar tends to have zero to no interaction whatsoever, except for forced polite greetings in the elevator and those rare times when Carlos decides that going out with Lando is worth his time. 

Oscar sincerely thinks that only pretentious people claim to be as busy as Carlos does, so much so that he never seems able to find an evening to spend an ounce of time with his best friend. 

So, no, Oscar does not hate him. He just can’t stand him, which is a big difference and Logan should note that. 

Is the prospect of working alongside him on his most important project of his entire career going to deepen that grudge? Probably, surely. 

But Oscar is, in fact, a professional, no matter what Carlos thinks of him, and he knows how to work with people he would rather keep a safe distance from. Nail guy and Germophobic guy should be more than enough proof. 

“You don’t know him.” Oscar protests, sighing in frustration. Lando raises an unimpressed eyebrow next to him, tapping his chin. “Alright, sorry Lando. You do not know him in a working context.” 

“I mean, how different can that be?” Logan says doubtfully. “Lando said you don’t even work in the same department.” 

“Lando is just biased because Carlos got to him before us.” 

Lando snorts, shaking his head with an amused smile. “Wow, thanks Oscar, you make it sound like I can make my own decisions.” 

Oscar shrugs. “You’re welcome.” 

“Has he started complaining about being paired up with Carlos, yet?” Yuki asks just as he settles down two other pints on their booth’s table. 

Alex trails behind him, carefully balancing two portions of fries on each arm before sliding in the empty seat next to Logan. 

“Mate, you have no idea.” Logan groans, placing a sloppy kiss on Alex’s cheek as he steals a fry from his portion. 

Alex rolls his eyes, but still lets him with a fond smile. Oscar sincerely thinks he could puke. 

“I really don’t understand why you despise him so much. He seems alright to me.” Alex says, failing at hiding the curiosity behind his voice. 

“Babe! I said the same exact thing!” 

“And he’s a great golf player, honestly.” 

Oscar sighs, knowing that he’s left with his shoulders against the wall. 

It’s not like his friends would understand, anyway, since they do not have to walk in his shoes. 

Logan and Alex do not count, because they like everyone, and Yuki is one of the most unfazed people Oscar has ever met, Lando is just obsessed with Carlos for reasons Oscar will probably never fully comprehend. 

He’s left alone, on this matter, even when they all go out together and Charles and Carlos tag along, Carlos is the only one who seems to not have any joke or a single word to address to Oscar. 

Lando says that he’s probably the one actually ignoring him. Oscar thinks that Carlos is just plain out rude to him, and only him. 

But that’s a bit childish, so he’ll keep that thought to himself. 

Everyone starts focusing on their own food, and Oscar stupidly hopes that the topic must’ve finally been brought out of his last Saturday night as a free man before three months of utter nightmare. 

And then Yuki quips in and reduces his hopes to shreds. “On his first day, Carlos told Andrea that he thought Oscar was too young for that position, and that he would be inexperienced. Oscar heard him, and he’s totally convinced that Carlos knows that he heard him but he still never apologised and Oscar took that personally because he’s peevish.” 

“I am not peevish!” Oscar groans bumping his forehead against the table. 

“Yeah, Oscar, you are a bit peevish. Just a tiny bit, though.” He feels Lando’s hand coming up to pat him on the back, sympathetic. “Come on mate, I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Yeah, I mean, we say similar stuff about each other all the time at my workplace.” Alex offers, in an awful attempt at cheering him up. 

It doesn’t do any magic at all, because Alex works as a teacher and Oscar has gone to school for enough years to know that teachers are only capable of hating each other for stretching out their hours longer than they should and preferring different students. 

Well, unless they’re shagging like Alex and Logan, but they work in two different schools so that should not apply. 

“It’s not just that.” Oscar tries to defend himself. Because holding a grudge for something that happened three years ago does sound a bit childish, and he’s not. 

The rest of the table looks at him inquisitively, impatiently waiting for an answer, just the sound of the background music filling the silence that Oscar would so much prefer over having to talk about Carlos, of all people. 

The worst topic they could choose for a Saturday night out at the pub, really. 

“He’s just-“ he makes a vague gesture, hoping that they might understand it easily. Of course, everyone just blinks at him. “I mean, who goes around with only shirts that have his initials stitched on it? Who goes around acting like they know everything and they’re the best at it? And he says that Lando is his best mate, but I don’t see him hanging out with him that often, no? That’s just top dickhead behaviour, if you ask me.” 

“Aw, Osc!” Lando exclaims, and in a matter of second, Oscar finds himself with his head caged under Lando’s elbow, the Brit’s hand mussing his hair. “You’re so cute, defending my honour.” 

“You never did that for me.” Logan protests, and then more quietly to Alex. “Babe, he never did that for me.” 

Alex smiles, patting his back lightly. “Do not worry, Lo, I’ll do it for you.” 

“I’m not defending anybody’s honour.” Oscar splutters out, his cheeks growing hot, heart thumping in his chest, wild – a dangerous zone. He slaps Lando’s hands away from his hair, trying to ruffle them to some kind of order, but it’s no use, they’ll never make sense. 

Carlos’ hair is always perfectly styled and composed. What a dickhead, indeed. 

“I’m just stating the obvious.” 

“Still, I can guarantee you that you do not need to worry about that.” Lando assures him, trying to reach back for his head, but Oscar is quicker this time, leaving him to poke Yuki’s cheek with a finger, instead. “He’s got other things to do on Saturday, usually.” 

Oscar takes a sip of his beer to cover his snort. 

He doesn’t trust Lando’s words, he’s probably just too biased by having been Carlos’ friend for such a long time. 

Someone who’s not even married and who earns as much as Carlos does surely should not have that many things to do instead of hanging out with his friends. 

But anyway, it’s none of his business. Rather, he should be glad he can at least escape him on Saturday. 

“Sure.” 

— 

On Monday morning, Oscar clocks into work on time, his jacket is completely dry, his hair kind of makes sense and there’s a spring in his step, and he just feels good overall. 

He has spent most of his Sunday sitting on the couch binge watching the entire final season of Brooklyn 99 and he’s convinced himself that whatever mind games Carlos might want to play with him, Oscar is stronger and smarter, and he won’t let himself get squashed. 

Logan kind of fuelled his confidence, as well, with his usual monologues about the importance of believing in himself and remembering all the sweat and tears he put in to reach the place he’s in now, though Oscar is pretty sure he only comes up with them to exercise for his drama kids. 

But the point is that he knows that it’s his job, that it’s his career, and even if he would probably get the promotion either way, he still wants to earn it. If not for Andrea, then for himself. 

The fact that it’s his biggest project ever, just motivates him more. 

He plops down on his office chair with a smile that must be breaking his face if the way Yuki glances at him curiously from the other side is anything to go by. But he just shrugs it off, playing dumb. 

He’s just in a good mood, is that illegal? 

“It is if you’re called Oscar Piastri.” Yuki tells him, no hair on his tongue. “You always look like-“ he makes a serious face, his lips closed into straight line, one eyebrow raised, sceptical. Oscar does not look like that, he thinks (he hopes). “Like those statues from Christmas Island.” 

“I do not look like that at all.” Oscar glares at him, turning his computer on. “And it’s Easter Island.” 

“Yeah, whatever.” 

He spends the morning going through Andrea’s instructions over and over again until he can exactly tell the position of every single letter, and then he spends the rest of it making a first draft for a spreadsheet with all the products they will probably need to change a million times. 

Carlos does not write him, nor does he come around to ask for him, either, but Oscar doesn’t question it that much. God knows he has his own side-projects, although minor, to care about but he guesses that spending some time to start brainstorming over this new one it’s not entirely a bad idea. 

He’ll just email the file Excel to Carlos once it’s done, and then maybe they’ll shortly discuss about it, Oscar will even accept some suggestions because, against all odds, he is ready to work as a team. Besides, his creativity is pretty close to a zero percentage, but he has heard that Carlos knows how to do a mean presentation, and that’s how teams work, right? 

Combine your best skills and all that stuff about sharing each other’s strengths. Oscar wouldn’t know about that, really, since he’s always preferred the solitary work, but he doesn’t have that much of a choice right now. 

Yuki asks for poke at lunch, and Oscar is a man of his word, so as soon as the clock strikes half past twelve, they’re already out the door chattering about the latest apex legends’ update. 

The guy behind the cash register smiles at him sweetly when he pays, and Oscar swears he winks at him as he slides the receipt over the counter, and sure enough when he looks at it there is a phone number scribbled on the paper. 

Oscar isn’t exactly interested in dating as of now, but the guy was cute, and it did boost his ego a bit, and it might not be a bad idea to go out with someone that is not his roommate, his roommate’s boyfriend, his coworker and a weird friend from university. Maybe he could even get laid, which doesn’t seem like a bad prospect at all. 

It’s just the combination of all these tiny little things that makes him feel better, more confident, almost ready to let himself believe that he could change his mind about Carlos, like Lando has been trying to make him for years, now. 

Maybe he could actually reconsider him, even if just by stopping viewing him as a pretentious dickhead. 

But Carlos just makes it incredibly difficult, it seems. 

Oscar has just started settling back behind his desk when his attention gets caught by the new email in his inbox, that definitely was not there before. 

To: oscar.piastri@g...  From: carlos.sainz.vasq...  Sub: team project 

Hi Piastri,  attached you will find your part of the project.  Please, do not contact me on my lunch breaks, Friday nights and weekends. I will not respond.  I sincerely hope you do not need any clarification, but if you do, you can write to the email above.  Good work. 

[See more] 

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” He almost slams his laptop shut, feeling the rage bubbling up inside of him. Logan likes to say that he’s an emotionless human being, Yuki just compared him to a freaking statue, and yet Carlos Sainz is enough to make him doubt himself and his capability to have a decent control of his own emotions. 

He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring as he tries to calm himself down. Breath in, and breath out, it’s just the first day of three months. 

Which means that it can go even worse, fuck. 

“What is it?” Yuki asks, curiously peering over his screen to take a glance. 

Oscar had almost completely forgotten about his presence, and he just groans and turns the laptop around, not finding it in himself to explain without cursing one Spanish lineage or two. 

“Mh, okay, yes.” Yuki mumbles, nodding understandingly with his chin propped up on his palm. 

Oscar can see his eyes moving from one side to the other of the list, a list, of things that Oscar should do, that Carlos decided Oscar should do, just to prove himself once more as the biggest prick Oscar might’ve ever met in his life. 

“Well, I don’t see the problem here.” 

“You don’t- what?” Oscar splutters out, blinking once, twice. Yuki’s expression doesn’t change, it stays confused, amused even. “Isn’t it obvious? He gave me a list, Yuki, a list.” 

“Yes and?” Yuki asks, unsure. “I mean, I would kill to have a teammate who tells me what I have to do. Splitting parts is the worst step for a team project, in my opinion. You should be glad.” 

“I should be glad?” Oscar says, he almost feels crazy about it. “Yuki, can’t you see it? He’s doing it in purpose! He probably just decided what parts he didn’t want and gave them to me so I can, like, do his dirty laundry. I am almost 100% sure he’s going to take all the credit after and he just- ugh!” 

Yuki looks at him, unimpressed, standing in front of Oscar’s desk like he’s seconds away from giving him a slap on his head. When they’re like this and the height difference is completely reversed, Oscar remembers that Yuki can be incredibly frightening, too. 

“Oscar, listen to me.” Yuki says, gentle. Well, not really gentle, because Oscar is pretty sure that Yuki lacks that definition, but something akin to gentleness, surely. “I think you’re a bit stressed out right now, I get it, it’s an important project-“ 

“My most important project.” Oscar interrupts him. He feels compelled to remind that detail, which he doesn’t find small at all. 

It will dictate the rest of his career, his future, his curriculum, his self esteem. He might be exaggerating, but he’s used to take things seriously only when he manages to convince himself that they are, in fact, serious. 

But now that he thinks about it, he may just need a change of perspective:  maybe having to work alongside Carlos is just a challenge for himself, one last obstacle to overtake before he can finally make all his years of studying and working his back off worth it. 

He just needs to impose himself and he needs to show himself and to Carlos that he knows what he’s doing, and that it can easily be a 50/50 kind of work. 

Perfectly balanced, yeah. 

“- and I mean, anyway, if you’re not happy with whatever he decides, you can just go and talk to the guy.” 

“You know what, Yuki?” Oscar says, standing up as he shuts his laptop close, feeling thrilled about the prospect of taking reins between his hands, for once. It must feel amazing, to finally have control over something, and it only makes him want that promotion more. “I think I’m going to give him a little speech about respect.” 

“That’s not what I meant, but you do you.” Yuki shrugs before finally going back to his desk, sitting hunched over his screen and probably causing himself twenty different problems to his back. 

It’s a spur of the moment, Oscar is not used to get them often, he prefers to be more levelheaded, in a way, more rational, logical. 

But Carlos has always managed to get under his skin in a way that he never was able to point out, like he could just crawl inside and gnaw at it and smirk that too full grin of his that some would define as charming, Oscar just finds unappealing. 

If he were to admit it, he would probably find the reasons of their mutual grudge behind deeply buried thoughts that Oscar has long since tried to forget about. 

Like that time he had been scratching his own wrist with his nails, too long, too uneven, waiting for Lando to give him an ounce of his attention, just for Carlos to get it all with a bat of his eyelashes and a show of his straight teeth. 

And Oscar has thought that, well, he did not know how to style his hair and he had always had bunny teeth and he did not post shirtless selfies on his socials, and he did not like to hop from one club to another to spend the time on a Saturday night, so hoping that Lando could turn around and look at him and say ‘Oscar’ all British accented and tongue in the little gap was just- ridiculous. 

Rationally, that should not be considered as Carlos’ fault, but Oscar just knows that he knows. He swears he had seen him, winking at Oscar jokingly before taking Lando away by the hand, tilting his head to the side, curious, wicked, and then acting like Oscar wasn’t there, not even trying go engage him into conversations. 

At work, it’s quieter, at least. 

The only reason why Oscar still hasn’t spilled a hot coffee all over the front of his shirt is because Carlos kind of is his superior, after all, and people would surely almost immediately suspect of him if they were to find a distressed Carlos Sainz in sight. 

But they still work in different sections, and they never have to cross paths unless they happen to be in the same elevator at the same time, or by the same coffee machine at the same time. They never make small talks, sometimes Carlos just glances at him and nods his head and makes a half assed comment about his commitments for the week like he’s someone too important to be around Oscar. 

And Oscar wants to strangle him or scoff at him and give him a piece of his mind, but he does not, because he’s rational and levelheaded. 

On top of that, the inexperienced comment and the lack of apology thereof does still sting, though he’ll never admit it. 

The upper floor is a little bit nicer than the one his and Yuki’s office is, with longer corridors and opaque glass doors and plants that are actually alive. 

Well, he and Yuki had tried to keep one between their desks, but the attempt had failed after they had realised they had forgotten watering it for four weeks straight. But at least they had tried. 

Oscar doesn’t really think about what he’s going to say when he pushes the door open, nor does he when he strides into the office, basically uninvited. 

And then when he finally thinks about it, it’s just to remain utterly speechless at the sight of Charles half slumped down on the little couch in the corner, scrolling away on his phone. 

“Hi Oscar.” Charles says, enthusiastic as all the other times he and Oscar have interacted in the past. Oscar likes him, even though he can’t help but feel slightly intimidated by his attractiveness, but Charles has always been nice to him and when he goes out with them at the pub, he’s always asking Oscar about his day and appearing actually interested about it. 

Which doesn’t explain why he would be friends with such a douchebag like Carlos, but it’s not like it’s any of his business. 

“Hi Charles.” Oscar replies, unsurely taking a step forward. It doesn’t change the aspect of the situation, of course, what is supposed to be Carlos’ office chair is still as empty as the first time he laid eyes on it. “Am I in the wrong place?” 

“Were you looking for Carlos?” Charles asks with a strange lilt to his voice, one that is not just from his accent, Oscar can tell. 

“Uh, yes?” 

“Then yes you are in the right place.” Charles concludes. “But at the wrong time, he’s out for his lunch break.” 

Oscar checks his watch, then he checks it another time just to be sure. “But lunch break ended fift- twenty minutes ago.” 

“Yeah, but he has to do other things, so he asked for a later lunch break.” 

A later lunch break. 

What kind of immense prick asks for a different lunch break than all the other employees? Who does Carlos think he is? 

Oscar sincerely thinks he has never met someone as full of himself as Carlos in his life, not even that one guy at his high school that went around claiming to be able to get every single girl in his bed. 

Which Oscar knew for sure was a big load of bullshit because he had watched Lauren Smith reject him at their final year’s party, and Oscar had given him a drunken blowjob in a bathroom on the same night. 

And still, Carlos managed to top that off. 

“Alright.” Oscar says calmly. “Then I guess I can come back later.” He finishes, already turning around to get out of this office as soon as possible and go back to lament on Yuki. 

But Charles doesn’t seem to be of the same opinion, clearing his throat to get his attention back on him. “Uh, we will be in a meeting later.” He says sheepishly, and then adding, “I’m sorry I didn’t know you needed him so soon.” 

It’s not Charles’ fault that Carlos is a douchebag, really, and Oscar is not that immature to act like one. “Do not worry, I will come back tomorrow, then.” One deep breath, in and out. “Thanks Charles, I’ll see you around.” 

“Bye Oscar!” Charles waves at him, back to his enthusiastic self. 

Oscar can’t share even an ounce of that same giddiness, right now, so he just closes the door behind himself and curses the name tag on it, flipping the golden plate off. 

And then once again before getting inside the elevatore. 

It’s cathartic enough. 

__ 

To: carlos.sainz.vasq...  From: oscar.piastri@g...  Re: team project  Sub: adjustments 

Hi Sainz,  I was not able to find you and I would like to discuss the attachment of your last email.  As it is a team project, I think that we should work, in fact, as team, unless you might’ve missed Andrea’s directives, though I am pretty sure you were sitting next to me. I sincerely hope you do not need any clarification on that.  Good rest of the day. 

To: oscar.piastri@g...  From: carlos.sainz.vasq...  Re: adjustments  Sub: appointment 

Hi Piastri,  I guess I can concede you a talk face to face over the matter. You can meet me in my office tomorrow at half past ten.  Do not be late. 

To: carlos.sainz.vasq...  From: oscar.piastri@g...  Re: appointment 

I won’t. 

__ 

#carcar #carloscar #oscarlos #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #oscar piastri #my fic #ao3 fic #formula 1 rpf #lando norris #charles leclerc #yuki tsunoda #alex albon #logan sargeant

[caelanglang]

Who are your fav skk fanfic writers and why? Do you have their works that you love the most that you don't mind sharing here? 💘

this... this is such a hard question, *brings out a whole safe of records* /j (no srsly it's gonna be a long read--)

Here are a list of authors i really like :3 Their ao3 links/handles are:

the_most_happy: love how emotional their work can be! they have smut and fluff works, and most of all—which i think the the most delicious one, is the way they write angst <3 I actually made a bunch of fanart for their fics/aus when I was just getting into the fandom :3 They're writing is like going into a spicy sexy emotinal adventure... idk how else to describe it xD my fav fic of theirs... augh so hard to choose... In Loving Memory caught me so off guard (cuz i forgot to read the tags and immediately dived into it the moment i saw their post about it hhhh)

forest_racoon: The fluff and softness and magic in their writing is so good! I love the energy and comedy and seriousness and everything in their writing! it's always so fun to pick up any of their works~ Don't be tricked tho,, the angst they deliver have the same gravity ToT it's just so... augh... I first found them through Plate :( and have reread it several times (please check out their other works too it's all so amazing!!)

devilrin: love how she writes. period. the emotions and the poetic energy of it?? the angst?? so. good. the skk energy in their writing is more mellow(?) it feels more realistic—it's like watching people instead of characters ;w; (very cool how she world builds an entire life outside of her fic for her characters actually, got to witness the behind the scenes first hand myself its pretty insane to me) The fic that ruined me tho is Down to a Sunless Sea (which is so angsty im so--)

themadtree: The energy in their writing is just so amazing. it's very hard to stop mid-way! The dialogue feels very fun and engaging and you really get very attached to the characters because of how energetic and full of life they are. Whimsical is the best word I can think of to describe the reading experience of their work :3 They made a bunch of fun aus; their brain is just so amazing (pirate au and avatar au like broooooo) My favorite is Mors Vincit Omnia (yummy pirate au!)

StarshipDancer: one of the first ao3 writers whose name i decided to remember by heart (which means a lot considering how bad i am with names) because they are my most searched user in ao3 xD The fluff is just so addicting. The sillies and shenanegans are so on point for me, idk it just scratch this itch so perfectly in my brain. I draw a of inspiration from my skk sketches from their works actually :3!! READ EVERYTHING THEY HAVE PLS ITS ALL SO GOOD (you should check the fluff week collection augh) Without Words is one of my most reread ones... I think... I reread a lot of their works tho...

setosdarkness: let's be honest. i think everyone whose dived into ao3 skk just knows her alreayd xD she's such a kween for that, making sure we are so well fed with so much fun skk writing. Her works are so fun to read! Very comedic and has such similar energy to the gag moments and bickering and shenanigans of the anime skk for me idk why. I love how fun and unique each fic scenarios are :3 (no srsly you'll never run out of food made with so much love by athina-san)

xLillyle: I am working with Lilly for a Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood skk au!! (its Royai skk BUT it's also beast!skk) it's been so exciting to work with her :3!! You can check some of the teasers here. She made an iwaoi!skk fic recently so if that's you're type hehe *starts bawling*

there are lots of other amazing authors there but these are the ones that came to mind and i am most familiar with for now :3 Here are some other fics ~~

When I Awake: Ghost(?) Writer Dazai and Musician Chuuya. yummy angst. silly skk

castle out of couches: My favorite domestic fluff skk. it's my must read. Halfbloom is such a master of the fluff in comedic tone and capturing that skk domestic softness idk how they do it. it's just so good.

In One of the Stars I shall be Living: A sweetheart wrote a fic about my little prince skk au TT it's so well written and I am so in love with all the references and angst ueueue

Five Steps: My favorite skk knight x prince au TT

The Best Worst Thing: Another sweetheart wrote a fic based on my silly sketches ;w; it's so cute waaaaaa

okay. i am. so sorry for the long answer. I just love a lot of stuffs from these incredible writers. feel free to drop by again :3 these are the ones that comes to my mind first so i may have missed out on a bunch oop

#sorry again for the long reply #bsd fandom has so much good food #inbox #recommendations

[nihyunluvskookie]

Love and religion fought. We lost.

PROMPT. “we tried we tried so much, but in the end we lost.”

PAIRING. Joshua x female reader

GENRE. angst

WARNINGS. Mention of blood, mcd, different religions, gun

WORD COUNT. 2.6K

AUTHOR’S NOTE. Finally I am here with this fic, I battled so much before posting, I don't want to offend any religion and I know it's a sensitive topic but I wanted to write it so bad. And since I decided to write angst for 13 members long ago, here's the first one. And angst being my favorite genre till now I tried doing justice to the fic, and since it's a bit of desi setting, it's a win for desi readers. Hope you like it. And I would be tagging people/readers who commented in that post earlier hehe ^^

Happy reading :)

TAG. @thepoopdokyeomtouched @aestheticfangirl @scarlet789 @nobraincellmode @woofie-nctzen-fanarts

Seventeen as angst trope

“You’re looking so pretty” I looked around, and saw my family members coming towards me and applying haldi on me, I looked at myself and saw myself wearing a yellow sharara, I saw my sister coming towards me and hugging me tight. “Hope you stay happy always like this, even after marriage” and somewhere my emotions were lost the moment someone told me this, I couldn't even recognize the voice at that point.

“Shua, I want to wear different outfits for all the ceremonies but too sad, you won’t be able to see me.” I smiled at him and he just laughed and pulled me closer in his embrace, “But you’re going to be my wife, so I would get a lifetime to watch you wear your favorite clothes” and he pinched my nose playfully. “I want to get married twice, one in all the traditions we follow and another one in your way. I don’t want to miss out on wearing a white gown and kissing you infront of everyone.”

“I’ll fulfill all your wishes, my love.”“I love you so much, Joshua”

“I love you too meri jaan” and he smiled at me once again, his smile was something that healed me every time.

“You look pretty Mishka, he is so lucky” and my mom kissed my forehead, I tried to look at her but somewhere I just couldn’t look at her at all, not after all this.

Everyone looked so happy and seemed like they were enjoying it every second, I tried to smile at them but I failed terribly. There was something wrong with me because I couldn’t express my emotions anymore. I failed to show them how I felt, as if my mind wanted to show them but my heart refused to do anything. It was the sign I lost, we lost.

“I would be the in-charge of the decorations, I want everything to be golden.”“You surely love the golden colour a lot Mishka” and he laughed and it was melody to my ears, “Yes I do and I love one more thing” he looked at me confused, “You” and I kissed him.

“You just know how to steal kisses.” And he pulled me closer by my neck and kissed me again. Every time I kissed him, I kissed him like it was my last kiss and I loved the feeling so much. I want to kiss him till the time I can’t kiss him anymore and I want to remember how he felt.

“Joshua”

“Yes, love”

“Do…you think…”“Think?” he was looking at me and I was feeling nervous, I wanted to say it loud, but he suddenly cupped my face. “What’s wrong?”

“I should tell them about us, it’s been eight years… already” “Mishka” he kissed me again and then looked at me, “if you want to tell your parents about us, you can. I’ll be there with you. We will go and talk to them, they will accept us.”

“Mishka, your mehendi looks so pretty” I turned to look at the person doing my mehendi, and here I wanted to put his initials. “And it’s done” The moment I looked at my hand, I saw the way my hand had someone else’s name’s initial, a stranger whom I don’t even know. I wanted to run away, but two things stopped me, Joshua’s thoughts and then my own family’s reputation. If I wanted, I could’ve taken a step and ran away already, but Joshua’s thoughts stopped me from doing anything.

It was raining and I ran outside, “Mishka, stop” I wanted to dance in the rain. “You’ll fall sick Mishka” For once I didn’t want to listen to his words, he always tells me I will fall sick but then he is the one who takes care of me so falling sick is worth it since he’s with me.

He suddenly came and picked me up, “Shua, oh god”

“I love you so much Mishka, I can’t explain. I want to marry you as soon as possible and want to make you mine officially.” I smiled at him, he had never confessed to me like this directly, and for marriage. He puts me down and looks at me, “Mishka, do you want to marry me?” I smiled at him, “And what makes you think that asking me like this would change my answer?” he looked nervous, “If I don’t marry you then I don’t know what will happen” “And I can never see you being someone else’s, so if you don’t marry me, I will die.”

“And I will never let that happen” and I kissed him. Losing him was never an option for me. He was my everything, he found me when I was left in the dark, and he was there for me when I was alone. And if I don’t get to be with the person I love the most, I have no idea what will I do ever in my life.

I parted and looked at him, “So will you marry me?” I nodded, “Yes, Joshua, I would be ruining my life if I said no to you” and he kissed me again under the rain.

I looked at myself, wearing the red lehenga, and I didn’t know how to respond to any of the fact, that I was getting married and my thoughts were interrupted, “Di, someone came to see you-”

“Mishi”

I turned to look at Joshua, Mishti was standing near the door and then there was Joshua beside her, “I would be leaving di, just know I am here for you.”

He walked towards me and hugged me tight, “Mishka, I can’t” I wanted to hug him tight, but my hands refused to move, no matter how much I wanted to hold him tight and cry in his embrace, he was home for me. He parted and cupped my face, “Mishka, let’s go. Let’s leave this place”

“Mishi, this is not what we want, it’s against our wish, let’s go. You’re not happy, I know it Mishka. I will take you somewhere you don’t have to suffer alone.”

“Joshua…”

“What happened Mishka? I am here for you, just for you. Let’s go, I know we can’t end like this.”

“Joshua, jo hona tha woh ho gaya, ab kuch nehi kar sakte hain, mere haatho me zanjeeren hai, koi reha nehi kar sakta aur.” (Joshua, we can’t do anything now, it’s all done, I am tied with shackles in my hand, and no one can free me anymore)

“Mishka, was it a lie?” and I had no answer, I couldn’t tell him directly, that, they told me they would kill him, if I went back to him.

“Maa, please listen to me once. Maa please” I was banging on the door but no one was listening to me, I wanted to run away. I want to run away from here and never come back. My tears were falling like no tomorrow.

“Mishka one more word and you know what can your dad do.”

“Maa, no. You won’t do anything. YOU CAN’T DO THIS!! Maa!!” I was banging on the door and then heard her unlock the door. The moment I saw her face, I started crying more, I wiped my tears and the moment I was about to say something hoping she would give me a chance to speak but she slapped me hard. She locked the door and dragged me towards my bed and pushed me there.

“One more word and Mishka-

Enough was enough, how could she do this to her own daughter?

“What was his fault? What was my fault? We just fell in love”

“Mishka you better- I wanted to scream, but the moment our eyes met, she shouted “Do you not know your dad? Do you not know what are the things that means a lot to your dad? And fault? We let you study outside and you do this to us?” “What did I do maa?” I walked towards her, my tears didn’t want to stop, they refused to listen to me for the first time. “If falling in love is a crime then yes, I did it. I DID IT” and another slap, “you are going nowhere and you are breaking up with him. You will leave him and get married to the guy we choose for you, who is right for you.” She was about to leave, but then turned back to look at me, “You don’t remember your limits? He’s a guy from a different religion and we are never saying yes to that. We can’t allow you, and remember society and reputation are everything for us.”

“Maa-” “Give up Mishka, I am against it. And don’t even think about running away, because I’m warning you again, your dad can go to any limits to separate you from him.” and that’s when I understood she wasn’t even joking, they can kill him, kill us anytime they want.

“We can’t Joshua” And I never told him the exact reason, because knowing him, he would not even regret telling me, he wanted to be together with me, didn’t matter if he stayed or died.

“We still have time, if you want we can run away right now and no one will get to know, we will go somewhere far” I took a deep breath and shook my head, clearly knowing what is going to be the consequence if I take this step, they will hunt me down and kill all of us.

“Joshua, we can’t”

“Joshua, we can’t be together, please move on from me.”

“Mishka-”

“Joshua.”

“Mis-”

“Joshua, we can’t, they will kill us. I CAN’T DO ANYTHING.” And that was the moment, I couldn’t hold back anything, if I knew I was going to be a coward for all my life then I wouldn’t have started any of this at all. I can’t even be happy with the person I love.

“And I had to choose, to see you getting killed or give up on us. And I choose you to be happy, happy without me.”

“Uss din se hamare saari bitaye lamhein, uss yaadon ke kamre me band ho gai” (that day all moments we spent together got locked in the room of our memories)

The moment he walked away from that room, I felt my heart shattering each second and into millions of pieces. I was the one who chose this for myself, letting go of the person whom I loved the most, even more than my own life. My choices in life were the ones which made me suffer the most but falling in love with him was never a choice, it was like fate and a string that was pulling me towards him and I went on with it.

I looked towards the door, from where he left, and saw Mishti coming inside, “Di, it’s time to go. Everyone’s waiting for you.” I took a deep breath and she hugged me tight, “Di, I hope he will understand” I hugged her tight, if only I could tell this to myself, but marriage? It’s the bond that holds two people together and there’s no turning back from the promises that would be made. “He can’t and so do I. I can’t make myself understand anything Mishti. I am hurting the person whom I love the most and it’s hurting me more.”

From there I don’t even remember how I walked down the aisle and I was already sitting beside the person with whom I was getting married, my face had no emotion. I couldn’t bring myself to look at anyone else. “Mishka, bring your hand forward” I was trying to focus on whatever was going on, but my body wasn’t responding to any of the words; I barely heard what maa said. I didn’t want to bring my hand forward, if I brought my hand and kept my hand on his, it would bind us forever in this sacred bond. “Mishka” Once more I hear her saying my name.

“Mishka” the moment I heard my name again but this was a different voice, I looked straight. I thought my eyes were deceiving me but I saw him walking towards me “You look so pretty Mishka, I always imagined you wearing this bridal lehenga, and look at you, you look so pretty but one thing I never imagined was, you wearing this and getting married to someone else.” and I couldn’t process anything, “you look so lovely Mishka, it feels like one of my dreams came true, partially I am so happy I got to see you in this.” I never interrupted him, but his voice was getting shaky, something which never happened to him, “Your parents came to visit me, they told me, they would never say yes and in the end, you chose them” “I am asking you for the one last time” and I could see the desperation on his face, “Take my hand and let’s runaway. I can’t see you getting married to someone else” he stopped, not very close to me and not very far from me.

There was silence, I almost couldn’t say anything, I wanted to say yes so badly but my whole family was holding me back, all the moments we spent together were flashing in front of me. I took a deep breath and was about to speak “Josh-”

“Looks like your silence and hesitation gave me the answer. Mishka, I love you so much that I can never explain in words, but one thing I can never do is, tumko kisi aur ka hote dekhna, I can never do that. I meant everything I told you that day.” He took out a gun and pointed at himself, and my reflexive action was to stand and run towards him, “Love and religion fought. We lost. We tried we tried so much, but in the end we lost. I will love you forever” And he shot himself, even before I could reach him, and his lifeless body was lying infront of me. I fell on my knees, I was holding his body, I tried shaking him, but there was no response, I wanted to hold his hand. The blood painted him and painted me red, I couldn’t see anything anymore. “Joshua, Joshua please wake up” I was shaking his body, I couldn’t do anything anymore, “Joshua, please wake up, let’s go”

I felt people coming towards me, all the emotions I was holding back, my tears came out and I was crying, I couldn’t stop.

“Mishka” and it was my mom, she was trying to pull me by my arm, but this time I pulled my arm back. I was holding Joshua’s hand and looked at her. “Dekh liya kya kar diya, khushi mil gai aap logo ko,” my mind wasn’t working anymore, “Losing yourself is better than losing the person you love and I saw the love of my life killing himself infront of me do you think I am in my right mind right now.” I grabbed the gun, “Mishka leave that”

“Mishka drop the gun”

“Mishka, don’t”

But all I could hear was his voice, his last words telling me he loved me. My ears were hearing his voice, my eyes never moved from his body. The fact, that the golden kurta he was wearing was now painted in red. I was going feral with each passing second, I was dying each second. I closed my eyes for a second and looked at my maa papa. I saw someone dragging Mishti away from me, I loved her but I loved him as well, he is alone, and he has no one here right now. I couldn’t leave him alone like this when he never left me.

“Ab iske baad jo bhi hoga uske jimmedaar baas aap dono honge, baas aap dono” (and whatever happens after this, two of you are going to be the reason, just you two) I was pointing the gun towards them and I could hear all the screaming and shouting but everything slowed down and in a fraction of a second I pointed the gun at myself and I pulled the trigger.

#spotify #caratwritersclub #kflixnet #nihyunluvskookie #joshua #joshua hong #joshua svt #joshua seventeen #svt joshua #seventeen joshua #jisoo #hong jisoo #seventeen #angst #kpop imagines #kpop #svt fics #desi #desi reader #desi aesthetic #desi romance #desi tumblr #marriage #seventeen as angst trope #svt scenarios #svtedit #svt x reader #joshua x reader #joshua angst #kpop fanfic

[gomapda]

sidewalks we crossed [side B: him.] (pt. 1)

this is broken into parts because tumblr has a limit of 1000 blocks.

side A found here!

author's note:

oh goodness. it's been a while.

i really did intend on posting this soon after i published the first part, but then life kind of got in the way. i graduated from grad school, moved to south korea, and have been here since. i'm still a carat, and i really do think about this fanfiction all the time, mainly because this story is truly me bearing my soul to the internet and my friends who have access to the original google doc.

this one is a lot less edited and looked over, but it's because this portion of the fic reminds me of something i'm still in deep grief for. so, for those of you who will read this, i was originally going to have a third installment, but i think i'll leave it at this two. it feels good and true to leave it here.

this was supposed to be published yesterday on seventeen's anni, but i was busy spending time with my korean host family who i've not been able to see that often since moving out :')

maybe i'll write short stories including these two because they are so special to me, but this main story has come to a close. the real final push was jihoon releasing "what kind of future?" officially, the very song that inspired this fic, in honor of his beautiful friend and human, moonbin. bin-ah, i hope you're sailing among the stars and looking over all of those who love you and who you love in return.

and to you, who may be reading this, thank you for being here.

✧⋆°｡☾☼꙳ ੭ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ‧ ⨯ ς(>‿<.). ⁺ ✦ * . ˚ ⨯ ੭ * ‧☼☽⋆｡°✧

tagging @fiantomartell since you asked me to whenever i published this. it's been a long while, but.

pairing: lee jihoon/woozi (seventeen) x f!reader

genre: romance, fluff

summary: an accidental like, an off-chance comment, a purposeful message. you were in an unrequited love with your childhood best friend and decided to run away from him and your feelings and years later you find yourself in the same city with the same feelings when he stalks your instagram.

rating: 13+

length: 30k (bro WHAT LOL)

tags: idol!jihoon, childhood friend!reader, unrequited love (but not really), reconnection through instagram, this is just different scenes pieced together (including a ton of flashbacks), reader’s nicknames are all bug-themed, reader has depression and it manifests as suicidal ideation sometimes, this is basically real life (aka seventeen exists and debuted 150526), but the years are a little bit off for the trainee period, jihoon left busan later and trained for shorter for the sake of my story hehe, cursing, pining, mamamoo + ateez are the besties of reader, member x member pairings, jihoon and reader are both dumbasses, reader is extremely book smart but has one brain cell when it comes to romantic feelings, jihoon writes music like he’s been divorced 12x, word genius lee jihoon, idk how doctoral degrees work, i only got my masters and it was a non-thesis track lol, also idk how trainee auditions work either, miss communication is a lady we all know too well, super cute soft shit too tho tbh, no beta we die like men, i spent 5 hours trying to format this for tumblr and i’m still unsure

inspired by “drivers license” by olivia rodrigo and “what kind of future?” by woozi

inspo spotify playlist found here!

──────────────────

side b: him.

The rapid beating in his chest drowned out the slam of the door behind him as he rushed down the stairs of your home, desperate to just get away as soon as possible. Your parents weren’t home, so he didn’t have to worry about looking like an absolute fool in front of them.

You knew. You fucking knew.

You knew how much he was in love with you and this was your way of rejecting him.

He was stupid, so stupid. If he just put his feelings aside then you wouldn’t leave. You wouldn’t have to leave. But this was all his stupid hormones and brain chemistry and his fucking heart. He knew that it wouldn’t pan out. You never saw him as anything more than just a dear friend, a brother. You made that clear.

Since the beginning, your pinkies intertwined promised a forever, but you both had different ideas of what that was. And he was stupid to believe there was a chance.

He ran.

He ran so far and so hard that he couldn’t make sense of left or right or forward or backward. All he knew was that he needed to get away from you.

But he couldn’t.

He passed by Old Man Park’s home with a winding tree you were convinced held fae people that would only come out when the entire town was asleep (there was a 50km radius, you said).

He ran by the rusted bars of the playground you two snuck off to instead of going to cram school where you attempted a flip and promptly landed on the crown of your head, wood chips tangling themselves into your hair, tears mixed with laughter and pain streaming down your cheeks.

The library where you would spend more time in the children’s section than anywhere else because you would practice your ‘reading voice’ for your future children’s bedtime stories.

The baseball field where the realization that he was in love with you hit him harder than any fastball pitch ever could.

You were everywhere.

And he needed to get away.

He went to your house to share the news of passing the trainee audition, that was the whole purpose of seeing you.

However, that wasn’t the only thing he planned on confessing.

If you asked him to stay, he would have.

But instead, you rejected him before he even got one word out.

So, he packed his bags up for Seoul, a place untarnished by you. A city that not even your light could reach, no matter how radiant you were.

──────────────────

Years later.

“Jihoon-ah, aren’t you working too hard?”

He glanced up at Jeonghan who was probably let into the studio by Bumzu. Jihoon glanced at the clock to notice a bright 4:02am glaring back at him. “Ah, hyung. I didn’t even notice the time.”

“I figured. I brought you some food.”

Jihoon glanced down at the two bags in his hands. His eyes narrowed. “Hyung, I don’t eat as much as you think I do.”

“I’ve seen you eat three full meals in one sitting. Get away from your desk and we can eat.”

Jihoon sighed before he reluctantly left the seat he hardly moved from for over seven hours. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Jeonghan replied happily, snapping the wooden chopsticks into two. He started chewing on one of the danmuji, the sound of its crunch reverberating in the studio. “Oh. And also, the wi-fi’s down at the dorm, so.”

“So, you’re here to steal my bandwidth.”

“I brought you food. I paid my toll.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “Alright, sure.”

“So, are you in the composing stage or the writing lyrics stage?”

“...Lyrics.”

“Hm. What are you writing about? Or rather, who are you writing about?”

Jihoon stabbed the grilled fish. “...You know who.”

“She’s really got a grip on you, huh.”

Jihoon grunted in response. Obviously.

Jeonghan continued, “I saw that one of the local newsletters interviewed the group home that she volunteers at. She was voted as volunteer of the year. Again. She smiles with her entire body. Seems like a good person.”

The younger of the two picked away at the fish, not bringing it onto his makeshift plate. “Yeah.”

“Do you still stalk her on Instagram?”

Jihoon let out a loud sigh.

“That’s a yes, then.”

“You know it’s not as bad as it used to be. I used to check, like, every few weeks, but now it’s gone down to just a couple times a year.”

“She hasn’t blocked you yet?”

“Hah. I don’t think she even knows that my account is reactivated.”

“Well, you never needed to reactivate before. Her Instagram used to be public. The rest of the members and I used to scroll through wondering how a bright girl like her could be associated with such a deadpan guy like you.”

“Wow. Thanks, hyung.”

Jeonghan merely brushed off Jihoon’s sarcasm, already used to it. “She only made it private this last year, right? Since she complains about her program being out to kill her on her story. To be honest, I’m surprised she didn’t realize you’ve been watching her stories.”

“I don’t think she checks who watches her story since she has over a few thousand followers.”

“She attracts people, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, she always has.”

“Can I see her profile again?”

“You’re not going to do something weird, right?”

“Ey, Jihoon-ah.”

“That makes me really not want to.”

“Ey.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes before pulling out his phone. He opened Instagram and clicked on the “Search” feature and saw your profile appear at the top without even needing to type anything. He signaled for Jeonghan to scoot down the couch so he could sit down and handle the phone in his own hands. Jeonghan peered over his shoulder as he scrolled through your profile.

“Oh, is that Japan?”

“Yeah.”

Jihoon clicked on your post.

But it wasn’t opening.

So, he clicked again. And then again.

And his phone decided to catch up with his thumb’s movements.

The once white heart was now red.

His grip loosened on the device of betrayal and it clattered to the ground. “Oh shit.”

Jeonghan bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. He placed his hand on Jihoon’s shoulder and squeezed slightly. “I’m sorry, but. This is karma for not letting me see her profile on my own.”

“Hyung. Hyung. What should I do?”

“Just unlike it? I’m pretty sure that Instagram doesn’t send a notification as long as you unlike it before she sees it.”

“How do you know?”

Jeonghan shrugged. “Jihoon. It’s not the end of the world if she happens to see it. If she blocks you, then you know, and you end up writing another heartbreak masterpiece—” Jihoon couldn’t even appreciate the comment. “—but. Who knows what’ll happen?”

“...”

“Uh. I’ll just… do it for you, then.”

Jeonghan picked up the phone, facing the screen towards Jihoon, the camera scanning his frozen features to unlock and Jeonghan tapped the red heart to empty it again. He placed the phone back on the younger man’s thigh, but Jihoon remained in the same position as earlier, eyes glazed.

“Jihoon-ah.”

“Hyung.”

“Let’s just wait, yeah? The food’s getting cold. So, let’s finish eating.”

“...Okay.”

──────────────────

Jihoon picked at the rice bowl in front of him, his mind light years away, chest filled with concern for the future. Was auditioning for a company worth it? Even if he started the process now, wouldn’t it still take a while to even hear back?

“Jihoonie.”

His heart constricted once he heard the voice of the person who made him unsure. He caught you blinking owlishly at him. “Y/N.”

“Hrmm. You seem quite a bit down, my friend. You’ve barely touched your first bowl of rice. It’s concerning.”

“Just thinking.”

“Oh, don’t do that. We know that usually ends badly for people.”

“Well, someone between the two of us has to have brain cells.”

“I pride myself in simultaneously never thinking and also being the top student of our school.”

“You work miracles, Y/N.”

“Hey, now I know you’re down because you didn’t call me a flipping nerd. Your best moods are usually accompanied by your worst words.”

“You make me seem like an asshole. You slander me to other people, don’t you?”

“Of course. I can’t have them know just how utterly wonderful and fantastic you are. I’d rather you have that butthole reputation if I get to keep my best friend all to myself. I’m a selfish lady, you know.”

Did you even know how much your words affected him?

“You’re neither selfish nor a lady.”

“Oh, but I am. I’m a selfish lady who’s only checking on you because I refuse to be wrought with worry for the rest of the day. So, come on, Jihoonie. Let’s go play darts.”

“Last time we played you almost stabbed my hand.”

“Your fault for reaching for the board when I was about to own you. Come on. Let’s go. I’ll make a pinky promise with you.”

Jihoon snorted. “Of what?”

“I promise to do whatever you want if you win.”

Jihoon scrunched up his nose in response. You were always so naive with him, trusting him wholly. But a part of him was grateful that you did. He merely sighed and stood up.

He might as well use your promise to his advantage.

──────────────────

“She didn’t block me.”

“Oh, really?” Jeonghan glanced up at Jihoon who suddenly broke the silence.

“Who’s she?” Soonyoung’s ears perked up.

“You know. His firefly,” Jeonghan replied.

“What? Why would she block you?” Seungkwan directed his question at Jihoon, who was simply trying to edit lyrics in his own studio, which was being occupied by several SEVENTEEN members.

“Jihoon accidentally liked one of her posts last night, but we unliked it. Oh, sorry. I unliked it because he was completely frozen.”

“The notification probably didn’t go through,” Seungkwan supplied. “I’m pretty sure unliking a post makes the notification go away.”

Jihoon had set his phone aside earlier in hopes of not constantly checking it. His mind may be unsteady, but he was always self-disciplined.

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Soonyoung glance down at his own phone screen that buzzed a second prior.

“Oh. Jihoon-ah, she liked one of your posts.”

Before his mind could even catch up, Jihoon flung himself to his phone, his self-discipline be damned. He frantically clicked on the notification and it redirected him to his Instagram page, where he saw your name among the list of likers. He wasn’t sure whether his heart was racing or whether it stopped completely because the buzzing in his ears overtook all of his other senses.

He even ignored the boys’ laughter around him.

“Is… Is social media actually facilitating real connection right now? Are we about to prove all of the ahjussi and ahjumma wrong? Are we about to witness history?”

“Seungkwan-ah.”

“Sorry, Jeonghan-hyung.”

“She… She didn’t block me. She saw me. What is this? What do I do? Do I just ignore it? Or should I let her know I saw it?”

Soonyoung snorted. “Yah, I’ve never seen Jihoon this nervous for any performance ever.”

“His heart’s probably racing more than it did the Golden Disc Awards.”

“WHAT DO I DO.”

“Jihoon-hyung,” Seungkwan started. “I think the first thing you need to do is breathe.”

So, he did. In. Out. In. Out.

After what seemed like years, Soonyoung spoke up. “So… Are you gonna message her?”

Jihoon sat in contemplation for a moment before he decidedly shook his head. “No. It’s time to write a song.”

Soonyoung’s eyebrows rose at that. “You’re gonna go back to work after all of this?”

Jihoon bit his lip. “No. This is gonna be a solo song.”

The corners of Jeonghan’s lips curled up at his dongsaeng. “I’m sure it’ll be beautiful.”

Jihoon nodded almost mindlessly.

Everything about her usually is.

──────────────────

“Jihoonie~ Wake up~”

He groaned loudly under the bed covers.

He heard you snicker, the only warning before you landed with a loud thump as he let out an “oof!” from beneath you.

“Get off me. You weigh like a million pounds.”

Rather than listening, you spread your limbs and trapped the adolescent boy beneath you, nuzzling further into the outer casing of his cocoon. “Nope. Just yesterday you yelled at me for not eating enough when you flung me off of the couch by accident because I stole the remote. So.”

“I’m suffocating. You’re killing your best friend.”

“Oh, but to die with a beautiful girl on top of you, isn’t that the way to go?”

There was a moment of silence where Jihoon contemplated catapulting your entire being off of his bed before, “Pretty sure that’s your dream, you damn pervert,” came his muffled reply.

“Huh. You might be right there.”

“Get! Off!”

His hand easily found your weak point between your first and second rib and you cried out as you toppled down onto his bedroom floor. He emerged from the confines of his sheets with hair sticking up every which way.

You grinned lazily up at his disheveled state and he glared right back at you. “Why are you in my bedroom?”

“Because your mom said to come and get you! We’re going to Muju today, remember? In time for the Firefly Festival!”

“Right. It’s your yearly family reunion.”

“Yes, I will become one with the bugs. My fursona will arise again. Or is it bugsona?”

“Is a buggy better than a furry?”

“You’re asking me to choose between two evils, my dear Jihoonie. Come on, get up. I’m excited to spend an entire weekend with our family.”

It was way too early for his mind to whirr as fast as it did at the simple implication of ‘our’. “Alright, firefly. Get out of my room so I can get ready.”

“Okay! I’ll go help Mama downstairs.”

You were committed to calling Jihoon’s mom as Mama instead of Eomma, as the latter held a tone for you that was nothing less than stressful.

Jihoon smiled at your joy, but stopped when he noticed you freeze in place. “...What?”

You shifted the weight in your feet before speaking. “Mm. Just had a thought. With a smile like yours, who would ever need the summertime?”

You grinned at him while his heart stopped. You always spoke without a care in the world; never carefully crafting your thoughts before speaking them aloud. You were spontaneous. Wild, even. Sometimes it ended with you in some kind of trouble, while other times, like this one, ended with him in trouble instead.

You scurried out of his room before he could respond.

He released a dragged out sigh as he felt his cheeks warm.

Forget summertime.

He wondered whether the earth could be sustained through all of the seasons at the sheer brilliance of your smile.

But he ought to thank the summertime.

Because it meant, every year, without fail, he would wake up to you, he would smell the breakfast you helped his mother cook, he would hop on a plane to travel to a different province and see the night sky alight with hundreds of fireflies, your face aglow with soft awe and wonder.

Yeah.

He needed the summertime.

──────────────────

“What? Jihoon-hyung is talking to the girl that just upped and left him and fled the country?”

“Chan-ah, your wording needs work,” Seungcheol chastised. The other members that were near enough to hear nodded, while others were distracted by their own activities.

Jihoon buried his face in his hands. “Eugh, I don’t even know anymore. It’s not like we’re actually talking; she just reliked one of my posts. It’s like, she went back and let me know that she saw me. But is that supposed to be a warning? Is it supposed to be a white flag?”

The youngest member of SEVENTEEN shrugged. “Hyung, I think that you’re putting a lot of meaning behind something that was just a small gesture.”

“Nah, Chan,” Seungcheol interjected. “Jihoon has been in love with this girl since he was a kid. This is more than just a small gesture, after what she did to him.”

Wonwoo spoke up. “Hey, don’t forget Jihoon was the one who left Busan first.”

The accused groaned.

“Wonwoo, you’re just biased towards her because you think that she and Jihoon would make a good couple and you believe in an ideal love.”

“Hyung, I just think that if Jihoon can write what he writes about her, there’s something there.”

“You romanticist.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Jihoon-ah, I think you’ve tried to reach her with your words time and time again, but maybe it was never made clear that she was the one it was for. You mentioned that she really thought you were in love with your noona—” Jihoon grimaced at the memory. “—so, maybe she’s just unaware.”

“She can’t be that oblivious,” Soonyoung interrupted. Jihoon knew Soonyoung was almost fiercely protective over him because he was the one who witnessed Jihoon’s aftermath firsthand. Soonyoung may be over-the-top some days, but whenever Jihoon needed it, he would help ground him.

Wonwoo’s eyes flicked between the two of his fellow 96ers. “We were all kids once, Soonyoung. We were all so focused on ourselves we couldn’t really see what was happening around us.”

Soonyoung pursed his lips. “...I guess. Jihoon, what do you think?”

Jihoon stared at his hands. “Does it matter whether she knew back then or not?”

They all collectively raised a brow.

“Whattaya mean?” Seungcheol asked.

“I can make a ton of assumptions about her. That she was actually in love with me and was scared. That she was rejecting me in her own cruel, yet kind, way. That she had no idea and the timing was just completely off. But all of that, I don’t actually know. All I do know is that… I want to see her. And not just from afar anymore. But part of me also hates her. But all of me misses her. I don’t know. I guess I’m just too stupid to figure this out.”

A heavy silence passed over the group.

Soonyoung broke it. “If you’re stupid, then I’m the biggest idiot on this planet.”

“That’s not comforting, that’s just a fact.”

“Hoon, you wound me.”

──────────────────

Award shows were weird.

At first, everything was an out-of-body experience for him and could barely process what was happening. He even couldn’t believe that he and his twelve members managed to earn their matching pinky rings and the right to produce and perform, let alone be nominated for an award. When they went on the stage, they did their best to be as refreshing of idols as they could be.

But it was much more daunting than they were used to.

Their debut year went by, and although there were many nominations, they remained only that.

In middle school, he would often tell you that you had a strange fixation on being number one in your graduating class. He said that he didn’t get it, that being in the top 5 was already something that was admirable.

He would never forget the look you gave him when you said, “One day, you’ll know what it’s like. You’ll know what it’s like to almost have something and then not. It’s the kind of feeling that eats away at you, Jihoon. The feeling of, ‘But what if I did more?’”

He merely rolled his eyes and called you dramatic.

That is, until he experienced it firsthand.

The first time ever was when he was doing a music competition for clarinet and compared himself to his bandmate, who received several achievements while Jihoon found that he simply didn’t have the body to be able to hold the same lung capacity.

Then he felt it: that driving force.

You both pushed yourselves further, to higher heights.

And it ended with him sick and bedridden.

And you, heartbroken and unsure of life.

The two of you would reprimand each other for trying too hard, but even with accountability, that envy, that desire for an indisputable win, that fear of failure, would still sneak its way into you both. You, with your academics. Him, with his musical endeavors.

For several years after their debut, at award shows, Jihoon would clap, the rhythmic beating of his hands echoing that in his chest, his smile lined with bitterness, his ears rang with the whispered voices.

‘Those people didn’t deserve it. You worked so much harder. These people don’t even produce their own music. Or maybe it’s because they have real producers and composers, unlike you. Who are you to think you deserve that award?’

One night, after another show of no wins, he collapsed onto his bed, unlocking his phone, intent on watching an anime episode before falling asleep. His members were discouraged and no one wanted to discuss what more they could even do.

Even if they did everything right, maybe it still would never be good enough.

When he opened up the YouTube app on his phone, he saw a recommended video. Your name written out in English caught his eye and he realized it was Part II of a podcast you had done with the channel before. It was a Korean-American podcast and you would share your experiences in the Korean language, connecting with your culture despite being in a foreign country.

Before he could think about what he was doing, he clicked on it, hoping to find comfort in a person he always had, in someone he probably always would.

Several minutes in and he realized just how thick that red string must be between the two of you.

“You know, I thought I undid a lot of my perfectionism before coming to college. Korea is the birthplace of comparison and pressure, I’m sure of it. It was ingrained into me from childhood. So, I did what I could. I got out. Learned to broaden my horizons. But when you attend a school like Yale, your environment really just kinda forces you to be perfect just so that you can survive. Because if you’re not, then you’re cut.”

He thought back to his trainee days.

To his current days.

How similar.

“I remember being at an event where we were being presented awards for our achievements. I remember that I was in the running for one of them, and I won’t say which one so this doesn’t come back to bite me. But at this one event, I remember no other guests were invited, only the nominees and peers in the same field. And when they announced the winner, everyone applauded, of course. However, I won’t ever forget the sight that I saw.”

You chewed on your lips, gazing upward trying to find the right words to say, a habit you’ve had for years.

“The winner had the biggest grin on their face, proud of themselves, as they are allowed to be. But when they turned back to the crowd? I think they saw something. I think they saw that our smiles were forced, that we were judging them, judging ourselves, trying to determine whether they actually deserved the recognition or whether we should have been the ones to win. And… their smile faltered. It was quick, but it was noticeable. And I think the only reason why it even faltered was because it was only those of us who were nominated or could have been. Like, it’s easy to cheer on someone for a prize that you didn’t want, but as soon as you have stakes in the game? Well. That’s a whole different story. But when they lost that smile, it felt like something shattered.”

Your eyes welled up with tears, but they didn’t fall.

“They say it’s lonely at the top. I haven’t been there in a long time, but. I don’t even know if that’s where I want to be. These people have done super cool things, and who’s to say that I would’ve gotten the same results if I had tried? And maybe, maybe they have enough competitors. Maybe they need someone who celebrates them. Someone who knows the hardships of working in this field. And maybe that’s what I can do. I just want to do what I love and what I love doing is social work. Celebrating other people. Learning their stories. Not saving the world, but trying to make it into one that might be worth saving. If I happen to get recognized because of doing those things and they give some kind of trophy for it, then alright. But that’s just a byproduct of the greatest award I’ve already given myself, which is just letting myself do what I love.”

And those were words he carried with him as he went to bed that night. 

When they won their first award. Their first Bonsang. Their first Daesang.

Award shows were weird.

It was all about performance.

Performing on stage, prepped through sound-check, clean-cut choreography, and pre-recorded live vocals to grab the audience’s attention.

Performing when at their designated table, giving reactions at a timely rate for both the fancams and large screen cameras.

Performing when behind the stage, being the best hoobae or sunbae they needed to be, adapting to whatever situation they may be placed in.

He knew how to perform. He was good at it.

It was why he’s in this industry.

But there are some things that don’t warrant worrying about an audience.

As he watched the seven members of BTS walk towards the stage, reaching for their Daesang. He clapped to match the rhythm in his chest, sure and steady, at ease. His smile, genuine and wide. The voice in his head, not unlike yours mixed with his own, provided gentle comfort.

‘They deserved it. They worked hard, just like you did. Their ability to collaborate with other musicians is astounding. It would be an honor to work with them. And you, too, have won, you’ve given yourself the greatest award by continuing to do what you love.’

──────────────────

Jihoon once again found himself at the recording studio, however, at a more reasonable time. He was trying to finalize all of the details on the songs for their comeback album, so he was spending his days in the recording studio and ending it in the dance studio, fully exhausted to where he would only have enough energy to shower and trudge back to his bedroom, just to pass out on his bed.

He heard the door to his room open but didn’t make an effort to turn around.

“How’s the song coming along?”

“The album is nearly complete—”

“No, the solo one.”

Jihoon finally glanced up at Seungcheol who now stood beside him. “I haven’t had as much time to work on it. Why?”

“No, I just wanted to check in with you.”

“You’re a good leader, hyung,” he said quietly.

Seungcheol clicked his tongue. “Of course, I am. But I’m mostly just curious because you’ve never written a song about her specifically that only had you singing it.”

“…that’s not true.”

“What? Which one?”

“The first song I ever wrote.”

“Oh what? What was it?”

Jihoon shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s an old song that I think only I remember anyway, plus, I only had vocals at the time. No instruments or anything.”

“…huh. What was it about?”

──────────────────

You wiped your snot away from your face, unable to differentiate between mucus and tears. Your unrelenting sobs weakened to light shudders.

His voice carried from above you, his hand entangled in your messy knots as he rubbed soothing circles against your temple. You curled yourself further into the tear-stained pillow he so lovingly dubbed, “Y/N’s Breakdown Headrest” which also doubled as “Y/N’s Punching Bag” when your emotions were forged from fire and not a dam that couldn’t hold anymore of the taunts and cruelty from your own parents.

His thigh was a mere hair’s breadth away from grazing the top of your head. He had a tendency to bounce his leg, one you continuously called him out on, but he wouldn’t ever stop his bad habit.

That is, unless you needed him to.

And he always gave you what you needed.

So, he sang to you a song of hopes and dreams and the magic of forever and always. Lyrics of never-ending friendship and pinky promises.

──────────────────

Jihoon paused, wondering how you comforted yourself now, wondering if you now had a Breakdown Headrest 2.0, before he spoke again. “It’s about what all the songs I write are about. Love. Although, more lowkey, not as direct.”

“Love and her are synonymous to you, aren’t they?”

“She’s the one who taught me most of it,” Jihoon said nonchalantly. “A truly honest and genuine form of it.”

“Wow, how romantic of you,” Seungcheol laughed.

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “I’m letting you know I only have the patience to tolerate all of you guys because of her. She believes it’s her divine mission to be as annoying as possible.”

“She sounds terrifying.”

“Yeah, she’s taught me how to be patient and remain calm. But she was also incredibly patient with me. Honestly, it feels like all the things that make me likable are all from her.”

Seungcheol made a “oOooOooOOOooOOooo~” noise before Jihoon got fed up and kicked him out. Of course, his reprieve was short lived as more and more members flocked into his room, a constant moving traffic of his twelve brothers.

He imagined you meeting them.

With Seungcheol, you would probably tease him relentlessly, trying to come up with new names for the S. Coups game, while also thanking him for being so protective and steadfast, praising him for his taste in emo music and asking him to sing My Chemical Romance with you.

With Jeonghan, you both would sneak off to devise plans on how to create chaotic dynamics in between the members and cause more infighting while eating stolen snacks or spend hours just sitting around, doing fuck all, because why not.

With Jisoo, you both would speak in English (with you affectionately calling him by his English name “Joshua!”), sharing music as well as probably arguing between Los Angeles and New York, since that was a common feud topic Jisoo brought up.

With Jun, you would try to get as many reactions out of him as possible or get him to write down the list of all of the authentic Chinese restaurants around Korea or you would sit with him at a piano and watch as he played OSTs to Chinese dramas, applauding all the while starry-eyed.

With Soonyoung, you both would either be each other’s soulmates or the banes of each others’ existence, both fiery and passionate; however, you were always good at matching the energies of those around you, so you would let him ebb and flow while you merely followed, likely to call him, “Hoshingi,” just as Jeonghan does, and you would probably love caring for him the same way you did with elementary school students.

With Wonwoo, you would watch him play his PC games, probably in awe of his prowess or you would discuss lyricism and poetry, both exchanging flowery words for no reason as you would try to pick his brain as to what really lies beneath the surface, whether he truly is as straightforward as he seems, and be intensely satisfied that he simply is as he is.

With Seokmin, likely to sweetly call him “DK~”, you would ask him to sing for you since you loved Broadway style voices, and since you both were so generous with your kindness, there would be no doubt that the two of you would somehow manage to start up a non-profit that manages to eradicate all the bad in the world.

With Mingyu, you would discuss filming and the latest movies to watch and you would ask him how he finds the motivation to do many different hobbies at once especially when busy with being an idol; you would probably try to trick him into listening to you tell ghost stories as if they happened to you.

With Minghao, you would share your favorite poets and philosophical ideas, sharing the life lessons that you two have learned and realized you managed to hack life’s code at a younger age than most, you both realized the real importance of being alive: contentment and love.

With Seungkwan, you would probably be laughing so hard at his wit that you wouldn’t have much time to breathe, you would try to figure out how exactly he managed to memorize so much information surrounding K-Pop and why exactly he was so passionate about it or if neither of those, you would ask him if he could get you the plug for those Jeju hallabong oranges.

With Hansol, you would call him “Vernonz,” since you loved names that began with the letters V and Z, and ask him about his parents once you found out they were both artists, and you two would definitely discuss the effects of late-stage capitalism and social media on humanity.

With Chan, you would do your best not to baby him, but you hold a lot of fondness for those younger than you, you would try to figure out how he is so particular about his attention to detail and whether it is something that is pressuring him (and if there was some way you could alleviate it).

He imagined you there, integrated into his life again. He imagined you showing authentic interest in every one of his precious members, unlike most interviewers they would be forced to interact with every comeback. You would learn all of their names, find out their favorite foods, the best way to make everyone collectively laugh, and ultimately, how to help all of them feel comfortable around you and inevitably love you.

And once they did, he could say that his most beloved people were finally all together.

He fell in love with you, but you’re the one who taught him how to walk into it with his eyes wide open. So, he did it with his members. It took practice, having to actively choose them. With you, it may have always been a choice, but it was as natural as breathing, even if there were times he felt like he was being suffocated (or wanted to suffocate you).

He remembered the first time he became aware of it. Most people talk about how love comes, there was always talk about rose-tinted glasses and how it softened the world around them, unable to forget the brilliant smile on their face, but no. You always shattered expectations.

From anyone else’s standards, his realization came at an inopportune time. But it was so clear. It wasn’t as though you had sparkles around you as you emitted a warm glow, it wasn’t as though your hair was perfectly touched up with no strand out of place, it wasn’t as though you were perfectly dolled-up with eyes lined and lips colored. No. It was just… you.

And that's when he knew.

Because there was no filter to block the sheer clarity he was hit with when he finally accepted he was in love with you.

──────────────────

When Jihoon saw your crying form, a slurry of words filled with concern and instructions were the only thing leaving his mouth as he packed his things up. He only deviated once he gave a quick farewell to his noona who left with her dad.

Jihoon bit his lip. Would you be okay? Maybe he’ll just rush home now and shower then call you later at night. Or maybe he should go prepare his bedroom if you decide to visit. Yes. He should do that.

Jihoon turned on his heel to make his way back home, his newfound mission resounding in his mind.

However, your cousin’s voice reached his ears, “Wait—Jihoon, I can give you a ride.”

He looked back at him, saw the way your shoulders still trembled, and shook his head firmly. His fist clenched, the baseball preventing his nails from biting into his palms. He spun it once. Twice. And up into the air.

“Here, firefly.”

You caught it by instinct.

Your gaze met his.

He felt his heart ache at the sheer brokenness apparent in your eyes, rimmed with red and puffed skin. He grit his teeth. He hasn’t seen you cry this hard since the day your parents told you that your number two class ranking was nothing to be proud of and that they expected more from you.

His jaw clenched so hard, he heard an audible bite.

“Why are you giving me this?”

Your voice sounded so soft, like a child. A visceral instinct within him wanting to lull you into a peaceful rest with a lullaby.

But he wouldn’t do that.

Because that would be embarrassing.

(That was a future Jihoon problem.)

“It’s your win today.”

He much preferred the look of confusion on your face to the look of agony you held just a few moments ago.

“Huh?”

He swallowed thickly, his brain unable to keep up with the words tumbling from his mouth. “Even when you feel like you’ve lost, even when you feel like you have nothing to gain, just the fact that you’re still here, that’s a win. So. Scream. Cry. You can do what you want. It’s your win.”

Your gaze trailed down to the baseball, too large to wrap your fingers around entirely. It was probably much denser than you thought it would be, the weight foreign in your hands, unlike his.

You sniffled.

A soft smile formed on your lips.

And Jihoon realized he preferred that look on your face than any other he’s seen.

Pretty.

He rapidly turned on his heel before he even gave a second to try and unpack that thought.

The weight of his baseball gear was really doing a number on his heart, he realized belatedly.

That night, he didn’t prepare his room. He didn’t even call you.

(Not that you reached out.)

He merely stared up at his ceiling, his heart in a constant flux of rapidly beating or stopping completely.

He groaned loudly as he played through the day’s earlier events, thinking himself stupid for giving you a fucking baseball. You don’t even like sports. Did he think he sounded cool when he said all of that cringey stuff?

It’s your win?

But despite the feeling of wanting to curl in on himself, he couldn’t help but still agree with his earlier self.

You did win his heart, after all.

(He threw his pillow at the wall.)

──────────────────

“You’ve been liking her posts more easily.”

Jihoon merely grunted as he tapped away at his computer, Soonyoung on the couch beside him. “I decided to just… stop overthinking. Well, more like just stop thinking in general. I’m too tired to try and pretend I’m smarter than I actually am.”

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow. “You got it bad for her.”

Jihoon glared at him, who was scrolling through his (Jihoon’s) phone. “Be careful what you say. For the amount of songs that are about her, she covers basically 60% of your salary.”

Soonyoung laughed. “Guess I owe her a lot, huh? If she didn’t up and leave, you wouldn’t have come here and we would’ve never met. So, I guess I’m grateful to her. Plus. She’s cute.”

“She’s more than that.”

“Yeah. I can tell,” Soonyoung went quiet for a moment. “She… A part of me really doesn’t want to trust her. I keep remembering that day, you know. Where you just… didn’t seem like yourself. Barely there—” Jihoon cringed at the recalled memory. “—but she also just seems so genuine that it makes it hard. I want to be your bro, you know? Bro code and all—”

“I never asked you to do that.”

“—And I’m nothing if not a bro. But I don’t think you’re the type of person to be hung up on someone who’s not trustworthy. Like. You lose interest in people easily if you don’t see them on a regular basis. But her? It’s been years, bro.”

“Okay, bro.”

“Just letting you know I support you in your decisions,” Soonyoung stated, but there was an edge to his voice that sounded as though he was trying to convince himself more than Jihoon. “If she’s really who you say she is. If she’s the one who’s captured that stubborn heart of yours. Then I’ll do everything I can to help you out—Oh, she posted again. Wow. She posts often and yet still gets over a thousand likes. It hasn’t even been a day. Oh wow!”

Jihoon twitched but tried not to show his eagerness. “What?”

“They’re doing a donation drive for the group home that she works with. Ey, how can someone who does volunteer work to help kids and teens be a bad person? Jihoon, are you kidding me?”

“Young-ah, you’re the one who said it, not me—”

“So close-minded, Hoon.”

Jihoon rolled his computer chair over to Soonyoung, snatched his phone back, and smacked the annoying gnat’s hand in the process. Soonyoung yelped in pain, but laughed it off. He saw your post (noticed that Soonyoung ‘liked it for him’) and a figurative lightbulb lit up over his overworked head.

“This looks like something Bumzu-hyung would post on his story. Maybe I can ask him to share it. Oh, but this is her private page. Oh wait. She tagged the group home.”

“Thanks for the play-by-play.”

Jihoon ignored him and clicked the profile to see they had the exact same e-flyer post. But he knew that you’d probably notice there was an influx of donations (hardly anything got by you) and he didn’t want to bombard you with unsolicited help.

But it’s for a good cause!

But he might be trespassing on her territory.

Everyone cares about youth and kids!

This group home wouldn’t have even caught his eye had it not been for you.

He groaned inwardly. “I don’t know whether I should ask Bumzu to reshare or what—”

“Dude, just ask her if you can share it and then wait for her reply. It’s not like there’s only a one day donation thing.”

Jihoon blinked at Soonyoung. “You’re right.”

Soonyoung immediately sat up straighter, pulling out his own phone from his pocket. He opened up his voice memo app. “Say that again, I need to record that so I can set it as my ringtone.”

Soonyoung pressed the Record button, extended his phone receiver to Jihoon, who leaned in promptly and said:

“Fuck off, Kwon Soonyoung.”

──────────────────

“Kwon Soonyoung, what the hell are you doing?”

“What do you mean? It’s not like I planned this.”

Jihoon glared at the boy before him who was somehow wearing matching clothes again. He specifically came home after rehearsal to change into something different and yet, here he was, matching with this endless energy ball. Jihoon specifically changed out of his all-black garment to choose a long, plain blue button-down overshirt and ripped, dark jeans. Something different from his usual style of a t-shirt and shorts.

Yet, there Soonyoung was, in nearly the same outfit, minus the overshirt being a blue flannel.

“I think this just means that we’re soulmates, Jihoon-ah.”

Jihoon pulled back his fist as if to hit Soonyoung, but the latter didn’t flinch at all, only laughed at the expense of his friend. The other members were downstairs waiting for them so Jihoon didn’t have enough time to change out of the outfit. And it felt almost ridiculous to give this more attention than it deserves, as if he was losing by admitting that it bothered him to the point of needing to change clothes.

But Kwon Soonyoung, the man that he was, would not let him live it down.

“Wow, we look like a couple. We should go on dates, huh? Get some sushi or–ack!”

The shorter of the two pressed his foot against the back of the other’s knee and Soonyoung nearly came crashing down had it not been for his instincts to catch himself.

Jihoon huffed down the stairs, shaking his head at the situation and readying himself to be made fun of by his members. Once he got through that door, it was game over.

And he was right.

Seungkwan, Mingyu, and Dino were the ones who rallied the rest of the group to heckle, which only added insult to injury, as those three were the ones who had the longest rap sheet to make fun of. Jihoon kept his disgusted face on as Soonyoung wrapped his arms around his shoulders, announcing to (what seemed like) the world about how he’s ‘matching with his best friend.’

Jihoon came back with a slew of half-hearted insults at the rest of his members, but they unfortunately outnumbered him. He is rarely on the receiving end of this level of teasing, but he was dragged into it thanks to Soonyoung, who was eating it up.

Even in the midst of it all, Jihoon couldn’t help but feel thankful that he even had someone to accidentally match with who would wear it with such pride and not shy away from it. Sure, it might seem dumb and annoying, but it reminded him that he could have that kind of playful relationship with others outside of you. He had other friends in school or at baseball, sure, but none were as comfortable, as relentlessly fun. He thought there would never be another you.

And there never was, but that feeling of acceptance, of joy, of gratitude.

He was able to find it outside of you.

Which was a heartbreaking realization before, but now he only hopes you’ve done the same.

And mere hours after his own outfit debacle, Jihoon sees your instagram story to find you accidentally matching with Hyejin, her making the same face that he did not too long ago. But you had a shit-eating grin, no doubt proud of causing a disruption in your friend’s life.

Your caption read: “oh, you and your soulmate are tied by a single, red thread? that’s nothing compared to the matching threads we got on right now. eat your heart out, makoto shinkai.”

Beneath it in smaller letters: “if you can’t tell by her face, this was not planned at all, but man, am i really rolling with it.”

Jihoon snorted at the serendipity of it all.

Perhaps the string of fate really isn’t just a single thread.

──────────────────

It was a rare day in which Jihoon found himself at home.

Which meant he had a lot of time to think about you.

(You replied to him. He shouldn’t have been so surprised. But he was, pleasantly so. Of course, it included a thumbs up emoji which was the visual manifestation of the acquaintance zone, but he would take what he could get.)

Album preparations were underway, and although there is a part of him that feels as though he should be scrambling, especially as their anniversary date was literally tomorrow, he thought back to a voice from his youth.

Years ago, he laid in his childhood bed, struck with a nasty fever from pushing his immune system too far by attempting to balance school and various music competitions. There was a half-asleep you, exhausted by misplaced guilt, with your fingers intertwined with his, who said: Jihoonie, Koreans always say ‘fighting’. I told you that this morning, and I knew you weren’t feeling well. I could’ve stopped you. And now here you are. I said ‘fighting,’ but why? Why do we have to fight? Life isn’t a battle to win. You don’t have to overcome anything, okay? You can just lay here and be with me. Please don’t get sick again. Please remember to rest. Some days, it’s okay to just be.

So, here he was. Simply being.

Whenever massive events (like SEVENTEEN’s six year anniversary) happened, he made sure to spend the 24 hours prior doing nothing than just being, to gain enough energy to last the following day.

Otherwise, the nagging guilt would get to him.

You were always weaving stories with even the thinnest of threads. Your knack for adding dramatic flair, amping it up to eleven, was a nightmare sometimes. For example, when he got sick and you kept repeating that you should’ve said something instead of letting him go on stage only to nearly faint afterwards. You took on too much responsibility for things outside of your control, which only caused you to lose your grip on what you actually could.

His chest tightened at the thought of you losing your grip completely. There were very few things in life that terrified him, but you potentially ending yours was one that plagued him until he learned how to remain steady when you were feeling unsure, and even still, it tore him up inside. But he knew that it wasn’t his battle to face; he wasn’t meant to save you. You reminded him of that time and time again, so instead, he learned how to let you live the life you weren’t sure you wanted. He observed warily.

As a teenager, he knew just how bad these thoughts could get for people at that age. He knew how people fell prey to the lies that they were unworthy of life and love.

So, he simply tried to be as honest as possible. He would do his best to not invalidate your experience, but he refused to enable those insidious feelings. He would come off as abrasive, he was sure, but your ability to detect bullshit was like no other. Your parents had a big hand in that. So, instead, he was truthful in his own way, in his own language, one that you learned to understand.

A few years ago, you did a two-part YouTube podcast at Yale. The first one was released a couple of months prior to the second, and he’s sure at least one hundred of the views are from SEVENTEEN (not all him, his members also took away a lot from your words).

He listened to that podcast time and time again. He heard the life in your voice, the curiosity of the future outweighing the pain of the past. You said that life was, at first, a means to be with the people you loved. But you slowly came to believe that life was something that you would choose to love every single day, and so you did.

He hoped that you still did, but trusted that, if there were days that would come where you did not, you would reach out to someone to wait with you until the storm passed and you could choose to love again.

His chest filled with pride thinking about how far you’ve come.

But he couldn’t help but wish there were some things that remained from back then.

That glimmer of hope spurred him to become mindful of the object he was fiddling with in his hands. He held up a bracelet of years ago, hardly worn by time or by him. He wasn’t sure whether he was still allowed to. It was one-half of a pair, but if its partner no longer existed, then.

However, he never had the desire to throw it away.

The metal charms felt both foreign and at home in his hands as he fiddled with them, the faint clicking sound of the chain barely registering as his mind was in an entirely different place. His eyes focused once again on the charm of the sun caught between his fingers.

If only catching you was as simple, he mused.

Jihoon sighed and covered his eyes, desperately trying not to cringe at his internal monologue, habitually reaching for the Chopper plushie that you gifted him years ago, squeezing the body to diffuse the embarrassment he felt.

He remembered when he saw the charms at some random shop he heard about from others and thought you would enjoy, so he decided to scope it out in advance for the two of you. It was easy, on his way home after spending a few hours on his own to rehearse his clarinet, a regular occurrence.

Although there was no doubt the two of you gravitated towards each other, you both valued your independence and alone time.

──────────────────

“We’re giving us the chance to miss each other, Jihoonie.”

“Who said I’d ever miss you?”

“Well, gosh darn. Guess I’ll cover for you and miss you twice as much.”

“…You’re dumb.”

“Yes. Can I have some of your fries?”

──────────────────

He retaliated by taking the ketchup bottle and squeezing them all over the tray of fries and you immediately retracted, believing that fries should be dipped in its respective sauce (unless they were loaded fries, of course, which warranted using a utensil of sorts).

He chuckled to himself. Fifteen was one of the most turbulent years of his life, but there were plenty of moments (like fries drowning in ketchup) that reminded him it wasn’t all intense.

Your fifteenth year started off with that charm bracelet.

Two weeks before then, you were so moody that he nearly gave you your birthday gift earlier than he intended, just so he wouldn’t have to see you be so upset (for which, he has only a vague remembrance of what could have made you so upset). Of course, it might have been easier if he had simply brought up his concern and asked how you were, but he knew you would have brushed it off as nothing.

He paused.

Did he know that though?

Or did he just assume?

He clicked his tongue, annoyed at his own self-reflection.

Communication was easy in theory.

Application, however.

He often found it difficult, matching your pace.

You were always so quick.

Quick-witted. 

Quick to anger.

Quick to assume.

Quick to run away.

He heard a soft knock at his bedroom door (which meant it wasn’t Mingyu or Soonyoung) and he grunted in response. The door slowly opened (that ruled out Seungcheol and Chan) and revealed who decided to greet him in such a manner.

Ah, he was right.

“Woozingi~”

“Jeonghan-hyung.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Jeonghan moved to sit at the edge of Jihoon’s bed, with his legs crossed. “The members are wanting to get dinner tonight altogether since we have a schedule tomorrow. The staff said they’ll pay since it’s our six years.”

This had Jihoon propping himself upright. “Barbecue?”

Jeonghan snickered. “Yeah, it’ll be good to get ready in a few hours. But I just wanted to stop by and tell you in person since I know you like to mute the group chat.”

“That’s because it’s constantly going off,” Jihoon grumbled.

“Yes, that happens when people are trying to have a conversation, Jihoon-ah. You should try it sometimes. Especially since it sounds like you have communication issues.”

Jihoon winced. “Hyung. Your timing is terrible.”

“No, it’s impeccable. Just not for you. Anyway, a word of advice.”

“Hm.”

“You don’t have to fear rejection anymore,” Jeonghan started, slowly, the words seeming almost foreign in his mouth. “Regardless of what happens with her, you have people in your life that care about you as you are. You don’t have to try and match her. I don’t want you to subconsciously fall back into a habit of appeasing her because you’re afraid of scaring her away again.”

Jihoon blinked slowly. “I wasn’t expecting actual advice, so I’m a little stunned right now.”

Jeonghan chuckled. “I’m gonna be honest. The other members told me to come talk to you because the rest are either too scared or don’t know what to say.”

“Hah, we’re back to our trainee days, huh?”

Jeonghan grinned, probably recalling the amount of times that he was the emotional support pillar of the boys before they each learned to open up to each other. “Speaking of, I remember when I first met you. You were a teen with a cold-hearted exterior and a lot of opinions as well as the weight of the world on your shoulders. You had the responsibility to carry the music of twelve other guys and you had just lost something that was precious to you. You threw yourself into your work and that became your identity.”

“I—”

“I know you’re not that way anymore, but I’m just reminding you that, no matter what happens with her, no matter how she may respond, you aren’t that cold teenager who had to bear the weight all on your own. You’ve grown and are surrounded by people who can help ease the load.” Jeonghan paused for a moment. “Also, if I could think of a member who laughs easily at anything, you are one of the first that comes to mind. So, it concerns me that you haven’t been laughing lately, even when Mingyu accidentally sneezed out his ramyeon noodles—“ Jihoon snorted at the memory from last night. “—and, if I can assume anything about her, I don’t think she’d be very honored to know that it’s because of her. So. Come back to us, Jihoon. If she’s really meant to be in your life, she can match your rhythm. Don’t leave us in the dust.”

“Is this a long-winded way of saying ‘bros before hoes’?”

Jeonghan burst into laughter. “Maybe so!”

──────────────────

“Our Jihoonie~”

The teenage boy grunted in response, shooting up a look at one of the older members. “Is there something that you need, hyung?”

“You speak so formally, it’s off-putting.”

“That’s because someone refuses to act his age.”

“What a tough Busan guy,” Jeonghan teased.

Jihoon’s face twitched.

“Bumzu-hyung is looking for you. Said he wanted to finish up some more lessons.”

“Agh. I knew he was going to have criticisms. I’m barely getting a grip on this music production stuff, so I don’t even know if what I’m making is good enough to sell. Everyone might hate it.”

“Even if everyone else hates your music, just know I’m one of your biggest fans.”

“...If my music is hated, then we won’t make any money, which means you’ll be poor. What? Is it your dream to become poor?”

Jihoon expected Jeonghan to laugh and tell him that he was right and that money mattered. But instead, Jeonghan replied, “Jihoon. Your music is good. And if we don’t make money because other people aren’t able to see it. Then what’s the point? You say that it’s your responsibility as to whether SEVENTEEN succeeds or not, but, we’re thirteen members. Three units. One team. We’re SEVENTEEN. Stop acting like it’s all about you. Maybe my dream used to be becoming rich. But now, it’s just doing this. With all of us.”

──────────────────

Jihoon stared at his hands, at the charm bracelet. “Is it selfish to want this life and her as well?”

“Maybe it is. But, so what if you’re selfish?”

“Isn’t being selfish supposed to be a bad thing?”

“Just hope that she’s as selfish as you are,” Jeonghan shrugged. “By wanting her in your life, does that mean you want to be with her romantically?”

Jihoon paused. “You know, I’m not sure. I think I would be over the moon if we could even just be a part of each other’s lives. To have that line of communication open. But as the people that we are now. I think I’d like to meet the new Y/N. She probably has more in common with the new Lee Jihoon than the old her anyway.”

“You two have grown apart, aren’t you worried?”

Jihoon went silent for a moment, trying to pick out the right words. “Rather than grown apart, it feels like we’ve simply grown in separate spaces, by taking different routes, but our lives seem too intertwined for our paths to never cross again. Plus, she’s one of the few people that I could really be myself around. It’d be nice to have another safe space like that outside of SEVENTEEN because who else can I complain about you all to, that wouldn’t cause conflict between us?”

“Ay. What is there to complain about?”

Jihoon gave his hyung a pointed look.

“Alright, alright,” Jeonghan started. “But be honest. Real talk. You really think she wouldn’t spread it to Dispatch?”

“She has always valued people’s stories more than anything, so it really annoyed her when other people would take out-of-context excerpts and twist them. So. That’s how I know she wouldn’t spread it. Also, if she was that kind of person, she would’ve done so by now. She has a ton of blackmail material on me.”

Jeonghan chuckled. “Interesting. You said she likes stories, so is she a writer like you?”

“Not in the traditional sense. She’s more of a speaker than a writer. In high school, of course, she had her awkward moments like everybody else did, but even then, she was a tier above the rest. I don’t know how to say this kindly, but she doesn’t really think before she talks, but she doesn’t usually have to because what comes out is almost always what she intended.”

“So, she must be eloquent then.”

Jihoon clicked his tongue. “Just because things come out as she intended doesn’t mean she wouldn’t intentionally be mean or annoying.”

──────────────────

“You like unnie, don’t you?”

Jihoon spluttered. Shit, shit, shit. He tried to gather his thoughts, but failed. He wasn’t good with spontaneous spoken words, that was always your realm of expertise. He needed time to think of the right thing to say, but you never waited for him. “F-Firefly, I—”

You barked out a laugh, and he nearly retaliated at the harshness. He wasn’t sure why exactly you were being so harsh. “Hey, it’s fine. I don’t blame you. She’s pretty high up there, above us mortals. From now on, I’ll do my best to help you out, yeah? That’s what best friends are for. Plus, you’re like family, like a brother to me, so.”

Jihoon sank back.

Family? Brother?

He wondered why that left a bitter taste in his mouth. But that didn’t make any sense. Wasn’t being called family the highest praise?

So why the hell did that piss him off?

Instead of speaking his actual thoughts, his mouth had a mind of its own. “I can handle myself, Y/N.”

You sneered at him.

God, you were so infuriating sometimes. 

She wasn’t like that.

She was the soothing waves of Busan, ebb and flow, constant and expected. She was everything you weren’t. She was older, more experienced, graceful, calm, soothing.

She was beautiful.

But she didn’t have that burning fire you did. Didn’t have him reacting the way you managed to every time you opened your damn mouth or rolled your eyes—there you went again!

What the hell was wrong with you?

Rapid escalation, raised voices. You, accusing him of not trusting your judgment and hiding his crush from you, saying that you wished he trusted you. Him, arguing that he didn’t need to share every little thing, that it wasn’t about his trust for you at all, and that God, he did! He did trust you! Of course, he did!

So, why didn’t he tell you about the stupid crush?

It wasn’t that deep, but you were convinced it was, and he was too tired to even try and correct you. So, sure, he could be “in love” with his noona, like you believed. Because then he wouldn’t have to untangle the mess in his chest. He could shove it under the rug like he always had, always would.

You slammed your fists down onto the table before you walked away from him, in a rampage. Like a damn wildfire trying to clear everything in sight.

You were a volatile thing, explosive, even.

But.

You fizzled out just as fast.

He awoke around midnight to the soft knocking at his window, your silhouette perched on the thickest branch the tree outside his childhood home had to offer. He had half a mind to not open the glass pane but he saw you shiver and his body leaped out of bed without a second thought.

“I’m sorry, Jihoonie,” you said, a few moments after you clambered into his room.

“Okay.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for being friends with me anyway.”

“Sure.”

So, he wrapped your favorite blanket around you, the one he kept in his room for nights like this. Color slowly returned to your face and he saw the stains of tears on your cheek in the moonlight. You muttered words of apologies and told him about your day, not having the chance to earlier.

You were better like this, quiet, but not silent. Like a crackling fireplace beckoning all to come and listen, to be enveloped in warmth and light.

He never once called you his family.

But he’d be damned if you weren’t his home.

──────────────────

“Funny enough, despite the fact that she’s more of a speaker than a writer, even more than that, she’s a listener. She listens to more stories than she tells them. I think that’s helped with her pride. If she knew she messed up, she would always apologize, even if she hated doing it.”

“Well, that’s one lesson you haven’t learned from her yet.”

Jihoon pulled a face and Jeonghan laughed in response. The older of the two snatched away the Chopper on the opposite end and started throwing the doll up and down.

“Alright, lover boy. What I got from this conversation is that you’re still in love with her, but you gotta make sure she’s worthy of your love, alright? Heed my warning, don’t be afraid of being rejected by her. It’s already happened anyway, and here you are: world-star idol with twelve bros behind you no matter what.”

Jihoon cracked a smile. “You’re right. I got lucky.”

Jeonghan tossed Chopper back in his original vicinity. “I think Dokyeomie wanted to ask something from you too, but I don’t remember what it was, so maybe you can go get ready and he’ll come find you.”

“What a useless messenger.”

“Your luck can’t be perfect, Jihoon-ah,” Jeonghan quipped. He turned to leave the room but stopped in his tracks. “I hope to hear her story one day. Hear her side of things.”

“…Me too, hyung.”

──────────────────

“How much is the corn dog?”

“Hmm… Tell me your favorite color and how it makes you feel.”

Jihoon mustered as much displeasure as he could hold in his six-year-old body. “Y/N, you can’t pay with stories, that’s stupid.”

“It’s my shop!”

“Jihoon, we’re just playing pretend,” your cousin added, his eyes darting between the two of you, likely worried about needing to do damage control.

“Hyung, her idea is dumb!”

“Why!” You whined. “People pay with money all the time, but you can get money whenever! I don’t get to hear stories! I like stories! My parents don’t read to me every night like yours do, Jihoon!”

Jihoon stomped out of the playroom in annoyance, ears grated by the sound of your crying and your cousin’s failed attempts to console you. Stories couldn’t buy the new toy race car that he got. Stories couldn’t buy him candy at the corner market near the kindergarten. Stories couldn’t buy a GameBoy.

Stories didn’t matter.

Money mattered.

Still, nearly a decade later, you never failed to ask for your unconventional form of payment every time he took a portion of your lunch. He knew you packed more for him anyway. And he knew you would always ask for a story in return.

And he intentionally packed smaller meals so he could tell you about how the History teacher had botched up his classmate’s test and accidentally graded off by one, about how the clarinet solo he was learning required a finger pattern he wasn’t used to, about how that one guy—oh, the tennis player?—no, no, the flautist—isn’t it flutist?—it doesn���t matter—yes, it does, Jihoon—anyway, he asked out a girl—the senior?—yes—oh wow, how bold.

And you would smile in return, sliding your food choice of the day within his reach.

He learned that you hated money; it was the one and only thing your parents ever gave you consistently. Simply, it was the manifestation of their love (or lack of) for you.

So, he paid you with recountings of the mundane. You never complained, even when he felt as though his storytelling skills were lackluster. He held your rapt attention; your eyes wide with wonder, voice laced with curiosity.

Eventually, he asked you why.

Why stories?

“Because without them, I wouldn’t have learned that you love the X-Men series because of Hugh Jackman, that you prefer winter over summer, that the first ever K-Pop group you listened to was Brown Eyed Girls, that when you tell me a funny story, you wait until I react before you start laughing.”

And you gave him that smile that made his heart stutter.

“Money is everywhere, Jihoon. But there’s only one you. That’s all there is to it. People, at the core of it all, are just stories. So. That’s why. People will always matter more than profit.”

──────────────────

After Jihoon readied himself for the group dinner, he plopped himself down onto the communal couch and found himself scrolling through Instagram. He stopped at your latest post, a candid shot of you reading a children’s book to several six-year-olds, your face aglow with excitement, a high chance the photographer captured you mid-way through some silly voice attributed to the character on the page.

“Hey, hyung.”

“Hm?”

“Can I borrow your microphone for the day?”

Jihoon didn’t even have the chance to think twice before the words left his mouth, “Tell me your favorite color and how it makes you feel.”

An uncomfortable silence blanketed the room.

“Is… Is this a hidden-camera?”

“...never mind. Just put it back when you’re done.”

“It’s blue, by the way.”

“I don’t care—”

“It makes me feel happy because it’s the color of the sky and of the ocean, which means it can be super calm or super exciting. It’s also one of the colors of our Caratdeul.”

“Okay, Dokyeom-ssi. Get out.”

“Yes, hyung. Thank you.”

Jihoon thought about how, if given the chance, you would ask Seokmin if he liked the paleness of 9am or the depth of 6pm? If he liked the gentleness of serenity or the vibrancy of cerulean? Or if he appreciated all that the shades encompassed before fading into greens and indigos?

But he wasn’t you.

You were the inspiration; the muse.

You were the reason to write.

He was just a storyteller.

──────────────────

“THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO IS HERE. THANK YOU TO THE PLEDIS STAFF, OUR MANAGERS, OUR CHOREOGRAPHERS, OUR MUSIC TEAM, OUR DANCERS, OUR STYLISTS, OUR CAMERA WORKERS, OUR FAMILIES, AND OUR SEVENTEEN MEMBERS! HAPPY SIX YEARS. HERE’S TO MORE!”

Everyone in the rented out restaurant cheered before drinking together. Even the sound barrier breaking screams of Soonyoung wasn’t enough to dampen Jihoon’s pride and spirit over how far they’ve come as a team. He looked around at his table, several members already seemingly drunk, and couldn’t help but smile to himself.

“Jihoon-ah, make an exception for tonight and drink!”

He shook his head fervently. “There’s going to be several of you who are going to regret drinking when we have our V LIVE tomorrow. You’re going to look super puffy.”

“I can already feel it,” Seungcheol laughed, his eyes slightly glazed. “But the food and the beer are too good to pass up.”

Speaking of, Jihoon made sure to snatch a piece of kalbi to put onto his plate before Mingyu could. The younger one gave him the stink-eye while Jihoon merely smirked and tilted his head back, challenging him. Mingyu decided to change his target and grab at Seungkwan’s piece, who promptly smacked his hand with a “Kim Mingyu!”

Laughter went around the table as they reflected on the last six years, the amount of embarrassing moments that were brought up were positively correlated with the amount of shots that were taken.

Jihoon grit his teeth as he tried not to fold in on himself, remembering how they threw him up as a cheer and nearly ended his life by creating a Jihoon-shaped hole in the ceiling. He was so much smaller back then, easier to launch without thinking.

They laughed about the incident where Mingyu was nearly beaten to death by Jihoon with a guitar, which Jihoon argued that he still believed he was in the right. They discussed one of their first performances as a team, where they performed NU’EST’s “Hello” and they all had helmet hair. They poked fun at Seungkwan for his revolutionary English skills when he said, “are you kimbap kidding?”

They’ve grown so much.

International interviews with BuzzFeed, Seventeen the magazine, and others. GOING SEVENTEEN as a show has grown alongside them, more than just showing Carats the behind-the-scenes, but has now turned to variety that garnered the new fanbase of Cubics, and has been an honest highlight to Jihoon’s career, where they can just go wild and laugh with each other, just as they always do.

They talked about how they used to sneak in food, how they used to help each other get ready for school, how they still have the same playful spirit as they did back then, but with more trust that has formed between them (although, less for Jeonghan since his cheating at games has only gotten worse).

Jihoon leaned back, full of food and laughter and gratitude.

He wouldn’t trade his life with his team for anything.

(Not even you.)

However, that didn’t mean Jihoon didn’t want you to be a part of his already complete life.

He was a selfish human being.

He hoped you would be one too.

──────────────────

May 26th.

Six years ago, “Adore U” came out, marking the beginning of the journey of a thirteen member boy idol group named SEVENTEEN.

Now, here he was, trying to not be bullied into drinking another shot of soju after already consuming several in a short period.

Their anniversary V LIVE ended not too long ago and they did not have a schedule the following day, so the team decided to celebrate on their own, playing Mafia and messing around. A few hours ago, Jihoon would’ve hardly been able to tolerate the noise level, but since his hearing has been compromised due to his heart beating so loudly in his ears from the alcohol, he was plenty fine.

He shooed away his members and retreated back into the corner of the room, pulling out his cellphone and ignoring Mingyu making stupid kissy faces and noises. Jihoon shot him a look of disgust, but Mingyu merely laughed it off and went to go bother his next victim, who seemed to be Boo Seungkwan, a prime choice indeed.

As soon as he refreshed his Instagram app, there you were (with a highlighted gradient ring around your profile picture, your head tilted back with a soft smile grazing your features as you took in the endless sky above you).

He clicked on the circle and saw you and your friends there, a dimmed photo but your collective smiles large and wide. He recognized Hyejin and Wheein easily (the former with a disgusted look apparent on her face and the latter with a deep dimple), as they were two friends who were a common occurrence on your feed.

And there you were.

alexa, play congratulations by post malone ft. quavo 🥳🎓 #PHinisheD

The corner of his lip quirked up at the cleverness in your caption.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol in his system, he swiped up to send a message:

i figured u would be a day6 or eric nam kind of fan

His brain short-circuited.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Shit. Fuck.

Who was he to think he could directly message you like this? Also, who the hell was he to figure anything about you? He hasn’t even spoken to you. Jesus Christ, what has he done?

Before he could stop himself though, his thumbs decided to speak his thoughts.

sorry that was dumb of me to assume

of course u would like post malone considering u could rap the entirety of eminems album

What the hell, dude.

You were going to freak out and call him a creep and then block him.

You’ve literally never done that.

He tried to calm his heart.

However, not even ten minutes later, he realized he couldn’t take that risk.

sorry that was stupid

ignore me

congrats y/n

He felt nearly every goosebump that crawled along his skin, creeping up to his neck, threatening to choke him out. He breathed in deeply through his nose, hoping no one bears witness to him.

“Yah, Jihoon-ah.”

His eyes trailed up to see Soonyoung with a look of concern, mixed with a twinge of panic and anger.

Ah, it would be him.

“What did she do?”

──────────────────

For people who didn’t know him, Kwon Soonyoung comes off as, well, not-so-bright.

But that wasn’t (entirely) true.

Kwon Soonyoung was aware.

He knew how to read a room, but oftentimes, he would purposely choose to simply do what he wanted anyway. Hardly did he ever prioritize another person’s comfort and complacency over his expression of his individuality. He knew what it took to be a performer, and he never denied himself the opportunity to be one.

So, him simply staring at his friend in silence with eyes that alone could have earned him his moniker of “Tiger’s Gaze,” was a major indicator that something was amiss.

Also, the fact that his friend was shrouded in near darkness, eyes rimmed with red, only a corner lamp illuminating his pale features.

“She went to America. She’s never fucking coming back.”

Soonyoung tried not to wince at his friend’s broken tone. Jihoon cursed like a sailor when they were trainees, but it was a habit that he slowly lost since he would often be reprimanded for his speech. He had to do the work to censor himself.

Well, the K-Pop industry was not a stranger to censorship, he mused.

“Wasn’t she already at an international school, though?”

“Yeah, but I just… I thought she would come back after graduating from that boarding school, you know? She wanted to go to Seoul National University, but. Fuck, dude. What if I’m the reason she stopped? What if she stopped following her dreams because of me? What if I–”

“She made her choice, Jihoon.”

“This is all my fault.”

“How?”

Soonyoung saw confusion flit across Jihoon’s face, but it quickly settled with a shake of his head. “It just is, alright?”

“Jihoon–”

“I’ll never be good enough for her. Fuck, I just thought if I tried, then maybe I could be, and– God, who do I think I am? Of course she’d never want someone like me–”

“Dude! Shut the fuck up, will you?”

Jihoon sat there in stunned silence.

“This might not even have anything to do with you. And if she really went to America because she’s trying to avoid you, then she’s a massive bitch–”

“Don’t fucking call her that–”

“I can do whatever the hell I want. Just like she’s doing whatever the hell she wants.” Soonyoung’s anger was slowly morphing into rage. Who was this person in front of him? He was so used to the sure, secure Lee Jihoon who would never truly get riled up.

But one mention of you and suddenly he would spiral.

Who the hell did you think you were?

Leaving this man who loved you so fucking wildly, to the point where he was just one moment away from begging on his knees for your return.

Soonyoung felt disgusted, but it was more of a ringing concern in his ears.

“Jihoon, you’re acting crazy right now. So what if she doesn’t come back to Korea? Are you gonna wait like a fucking sad dog out in the rain? Hoping that she’ll come pick you up again? You’re missing your own fucking life here.”

“I just–”

“Yeah, yeah, you love her. I get it. But… If she were to see you right now, do you think she would even want this kind of love? This obsessive, insecure kind?”

Jihoon’s face was now contorted in pain and Soonyoung tried so terribly hard to keep his face neutral. Soonyoung was plenty capable of being a soothing person, especially to his fellow members, but he was so riddled with frustration that he knew that he would come off as disingenuous if he even tried to pretend to be.

“Let her go. If she comes back, then she will. But don’t let her come back to someone who is incapable of even picking himself off of the floor.”

“...Okay.”

Kwon Soonyoung was aware.

Aware of how much Lee Jihoon was in love with you.

Painfully so.

──────────────────

“I just–”

“You just what?” Soonyoung’s eyes bore into his friend’s face.

Jihoon recoiled at his tone. “I replied to her Instagram story and it was some dumb comment, but what if she thinks I’m being too much and she backs off and–?”

“Jihoon-ah.”

“...Soonyoung-ah.”

“She’s human, right?”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow at that. “Yeah, no shit.”

“Then why are you acting like she’s this untouchable goddess? Who cares if she thinks you’re being too much? You’re putting her on a pedestal she probably doesn’t even want, dude.”

──────────────────

“Why’d you reject the guy?”

You glanced up at her best friend. “What’re you talking about?”

Jihoon cocked his head to the side. Was it already so quickly forgotten by you? It happened at lunch and it was kind of rowdy. Poor dude. “The guy who asked you out to the dance. You said you thought he was cute before and that he was good at tutoring math.”

“Yeah, I might know him, but he doesn’t know me.”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow. “I thought you guys tutored together.”

You clicked your tongue. “Yeah, we do, but. He doesn’t know me. I know him because I ask him questions. I ask him about himself. But he never once asked me a question about me. If he did, he would know that I hate public gestures. He would know that I don’t like receiving flowers. He didn’t even care to ask any of my friends about what I liked. The main reason as to why he asked me to go to the dance is probably because I made him feel good about himself. I might know him, but he doesn’t know me, and that’s one of the most annoying things.”

“What, that people don’t know you?”

“No. That people assume they know me.”

Jihoon paused for a moment.

“People think that I’m this super wholesome good kid who gets perfect grades.”

“Well, one of those things is true.”

You cracked a smile at that. “Yeah, well. The more people assume I’m on a different level from them, the lonelier it is. I just… I don’t want to be lonely, Jihoon.”

“It’s alright. I’ll make sure you aren’t.”

It was chilling, how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, as if you knew a secret he didn’t, as if you already prophesied a future that rendered his words empty. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Lee Jihoon.”

──────────────────

Jihoon nearly bit his tongue.

Ever since he no longer had the security of having you be by his side, he became exactly like one of them, forcing assumptions onto you.

You were out of sight and he was out of his mind.

He told you that you could always be yourself around him, and here he was, creating a caricature of you in his head that he knew didn’t exist. To push forth the narrative he wrote. One born of insecurity. “...I don’t understand how you’ve been so right lately?”

“I really do wish I had my phone around to record you when you say that,” Soonyoung said off-handedly. “So, you’re not going to try to unsend those messages?”

“You can unsend messages?”

“Uh–”

Jihoon immediately unlocked his phone to go to his messages. There, he saw your chat. He long-pressed the message without much thought and his thumb hovered over it.

But he hesitated.

“...Just watching from afar isn’t enough for you anymore, is it?”

Jihoon stared up at his friend, who had a look of (almost) pity etched across his features. Jihoon swallowed the lump in his throat. “...No. I don’t think it is.”

“Well, if she rejects you in any kind of way, I can comfort you.”

“No thanks.”

“Yeah, thought you’d say that.”

──────────────────

Almost exactly sixty minutes later, Jihoon witnessed a miracle.

“...She replied.”

Seungkwan glanced up at Jihoon. “Who?”

Jihoon turned his screen to his younger member, who leaned forward to read his screen. Only to audibly gasp and cover his mouth with his hands. “You messaged her?!”

“Yeah, like an hour ago. Keep up.”

“Hyung, you didn’t tell me–”

“Ah, Boo Seungkwan.”

The corner of Seungkwan’s mouth twitched and Jihoon merely smirked. He turned his attention back to your messages, smiling fondly at your usage of 🥳 after greeting him a happy anniversary.

Oh shit, wait. You knew SEVENTEEN?

And he portrayed that sentiment exactly when messaging you.

(With some typing errors.)

(He may or may not have taken one, two, several shots once the anxiety settled back into him.)

(His alcohol tolerance was nonexistent.)

The messages were now rapid-fire. He found out that you were a Carat and that you favored Yoon Jeonghan.

He snorted at that, of course you would.

A lightbulb lit up over his head. Ah. He could do something for you.

He jumped up from his seat on the couch, away from Seungkwan who was watching over his shoulder the entire time who chose to remain silent because he knew he would be kicked out if he said anything compromising. “Jeonghan-hyung.”

“Woozi Woozi~?”

“Can you do something for me?”

Jeonghan stared at him, frozen. Then after a moment to process what exactly Jihoon said, the older one crossed his arms over his chest, a scandalized look in his wide eyes. “Depends on what you’re asking for.”

“YAH.”

“Lee Jihoon, don’t yell at someone you’re trying to ask a favor from. You’re lucky I’m a nice guy.”

Jihoon held his tongue, but his expression must have given it away because Jeonghan laughed and said that he would rather not die, and asked Jihoon to continue with what he was saying. “Y/N just graduated and she basically said that you’re her favorite SEVENTEEN member–”

“WOW! I like her already.”

“Hyung.”

“Okay, what do you want me to do for both my cute fan and my even cuter dongsaeng?”

“Just a video to congratulate her.”

“My videos are rare, it’s not easy to get something like this, you know.”

“Hyung, please.”

Jeonghan cackled, but quickly acquiesced. “Alright, alright.”

Soon enough, he found himself in a rhythm speaking to you. It was so easy, there was no residual awkwardness (on his end, at least) and it felt so natural. The banter was still there and so were your emoticons, escalating from the “:)” of your childhood to the iPhone emojis. You seemed so close, within reach, attainable.

That felt dangerous.

He could feel it. He could feel that desire to spill out everything he could. He spent years coming up with the words he wished he could’ve told you, some of them now award-winning songs, and it feels almost euphoric to know that he could tell you it all.

But.

He wasn’t sure, still. How receptive you would be. Would you run away like you did in the past whenever things became too much, too overwhelming? He always reminded you that you could never be that, but he wasn’t sure whether he was of the same capacity.

He wants you in his life. There is no doubt about that, especially not now.

But what if you leave again?

He cannot mess this up. He can’t.

So, he kept things light between you, jokes and jabs.

But that didn’t stop him from pushing for more, disguised in a (not-so) innocent attempt at ensuring that he would be able to have open contact with you in the future.

And that’s all he needed. A future with you in it.

That wasn’t too much to ask for, right?

──────────────────

Yes. Yes, it was.

After a few days of no response from your end on KakaoTalk, your Shikamaru profile picture almost mocking him with his permanent deadpan look, the answer was resounding.

But Jihoon’s entire identity was based on his stubbornness.

So, he decided to take a chance and message you on Instagram.

Only to retract immediately saying you didn’t have to reply.

Stupid.

Thankfully, though, you responded within 30 minutes, admitting that @narutofanfreak123 was not exactly a username you wanted to share with anyone above the age of twelve. You both quickly resolved the miscommunication (wow, Jihoon thought, imagine if we had this before).

He chuckled at your choice of KKT username, @MadameFirefly, oddly touched that his nickname for you still held enough weight to be your moniker for a messaging app.

He did his best to casually ask what you were planning on doing in the future (not like he wanted to see if he could somehow fit into it, or whatever).

Jihoon was left staring at his phone screen, the weight of his phone now burdened by the weight of your choices. Seoul? Or New York City?

──────────────────

“You didn’t have to miss the dance just because I got a B on an exam, you know.”

“Your parents are insane for grounding you to the library for a B on an exam, you know? And for a hagwon that’s way above our grade level.”

You shook your head, not willing to admit out loud that you agreed. “What I mean is that you don’t have to keep me company while I study when you could go off and meet cute girls and sweep them off their feet.”

“Why would I do that when I can watch you and your snot-nosed face trying to do college level calculus?”

“It’s all so that I can get into Seoul National.”

“Firefly, you could get into any school, even outside Korea.”

“Maybe I’ll do just that,” you laughed. “Finally get out of here.”

“Just let me know and I’ll stow myself into your suitcase.”

“Oh please. You’ll probably be the one traveling internationally doing whatever you do. A world-renowned musician.”

“Alright, you can be in my suitcase instead then.”

“Okay, can you leave breathing holes for me?”

“No, get better lung capacity.”

You clicked your tongue at him and he laughed. “Seriously, though, Jihoonie. You could be spending your teen years the way the movies do it. You could be ‘swearing you’re infinite’ while a slow-mo cam focuses on you as you dance, surrounded by beautiful people definitely too old to be cast as teenagers.”

“No thanks.”

You put your forehead down onto the table. “Please. Do it for me. Get a girlfriend because I can’t.”

“You know, you’re probably why I can’t get a girlfriend.”

No. You definitely were.

You shot him an annoyed look. “You could easily go and find someone who’d be smitten with you. But instead you’re about to watch me get a nosebleed over how hard I’m working my brain here.”

“Maybe I’m a sadist and want to watch that happen.”

You threw your eraser at him, but easily missed, the rubber object bouncing off of the table and onto the carpeted floor. You whined at the idea of having to leave your seat and Jihoon just rolled his eyes and picked it up for you.

Sure, he could be dancing with his friends, with cute girls, with whoever. He could be surrounded by endless snacks and overly sweet punch, the dance no doubt smelling like youth and pride and reckless decisions. He would see that there are plenty of people in his life outside of you.

But, no.

If he did, you would be left here, in this almost deserted library on a Friday, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into what your parents have convinced you matters more than your health.

You gave him a large grin as he passed you your eraser before you went back to focusing on your work.

Yeah, he’d much rather see this instead.

──────────────────

Later that evening, he found himself again in his recording studio.

Our past that didn’t line up,

If I could go back in time,

Rather than roughly, but warmly,

Would I be able to let you go?

He stared at the lyrics he wrote, feeling discontent. He wanted to be the kind of person who didn’t feel any kind of residual emotions towards you. Who would be able to meet you where you were and wish you well, no matter where you decided to go.

One of his biggest regrets was storming out of your childhood home the way that he did. He could’ve had answers but instead he was left with hostile emotions and questions.

He could only hope he would’ve done something different.

But now that he is faced with letting you go, he’s not sure how easily he would yield.

He took a moment to bury his face in his hands and tried to think about this from your perspective (something he had to practice while living with twelve other boys). He breathed in deeply and thought about the you that you are now, about how the person he fell in love with could easily be gone, and you were nothing but a shadow of what remained.

But that didn’t feel right either. It seems as though the person that you’ve grown into, that you’ve flourished into, is someone he would’ve wanted to get to know regardless of whether you had history or not.

Perhaps that is because of the artifice of social media, or perhaps it’s because you carry an air of authenticity with you that has now been given the opportunity to bloom instead of stifled in the environment you were raised in. Whether or not you were mere remnants of his past, it does not mean that the person you are now is any less lovely.

He groaned loudly.

Emotional labor is hard.

How is this something you enjoy doing?

──────────────────

“You really want to become a social worker, huh?”

You shrugged. “I mean, yeah. It feels like the best use of my skills. I like being able to potentially help people like me and well, there are a lot of people like me, you know. I don’t know whether I want to become a private practice therapist, but that seems like a solid option for now until I know more about what else is out there in the field.”

He would disagree, but he decided not to. “I just can’t deal with all of those emotions.”

You gave him a raised eyebrow. “What are you talking about? You’re one of the most sensitive people that I know.”

Jihoon felt ruffled by that. “What? What are you talking about?”

You quickly put your hands up in mock defense. “I’m not saying that being sensitive is a bad thing. I’m saying that there’s no way you would be my friend if you couldn’t handle emotions. I have way too many of them, I’m not that blind to that. Also, I’ve read your poetry and heard your music and that’s some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. Like, even the way you hold your clarinet is emotional.”

“I think that’s you projecting yourself onto me.”

“Say what you want, Jihoon. You’re a sensitive soul, but I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“Yeah, well, sensitivity isn’t what gets you awards, you know. Skill does.”

You huffed in response. “Yeah, well, once you build up the second, the first is what will create a legacy that will be one to remember for ages to come. I’m speaking it into existence now. And I lay claim to the title of being your first fan. I will support you the entire way, no matter what you do. Music, baseball, comedy. Whatever!”

Jihoon snorted. He wouldn’t dare become a comedian, but it made him feel good that you thought that was a viable prospect for him. “Whatever industry I’m in, I’ll probably have to protect you from all of the bad people. You’re too soft. Even just last week, I mean…”

“What? You mean, when Nahyun made fun of me during my presentation in front of everyone?”

Irritation washed over Jihoon. 

The self-proclaimed It Girl decided to try and belittle you while in the middle of your presentation, as you were explaining the measurements that you used in your findings, she asked whether you had ‘measured’ your weight recently because ‘you really ought to’.

He never wanted to get into a fight more than then, especially when your other classmates laughed along. It was a subpar, typical, low-class mean girl line, but it filled him with rage.

You were completely unphased by it, continuing on with your presentation, not even choosing to spare a glance in her direction.

Luckily, the teacher, not being a prick himself, called out Nahyun and pulled her aside after class to apologize to you. (Jihoon would’ve preferred a public execution apology.)

Jihoon stood just a few feet away as you accepted her half-assed effort. You paused for a moment and muttered something to her, something that only she could hear. Nahyun merely pursed her lips afterwards before walking away. Irritation rushed through him again.

“Seriously, though. You’re too soft, firefly.”

“Hm. I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“No. I just think everyone else is too hard on themselves. And each other.”

“...You’re gonna be a great therapist.”

“Thanks. Hire me.”

──────────────────

Jihoon had his own fair share of meetings with professional counselors (especially in the midst of living such a hectic life as an idol), but he was worried whether you would be as cut and dry as they were, whittled down by years of academia. It seemed almost like they were reading out of a textbook, using vocabulary words like ‘empathy’ and ‘self-care,’ so he never saw it fit to return if it wasn’t necessary.

However, the places you’ve poured your time into left only glowing reviews for your passion and compassion for the field that you were in.

Jihoon was roused from his thoughts at his phone ringing on his desk. He looked at the Caller ID and saw a name he has been in and out of contact with for over a decade, it was your cousin. He picked it up. “Yo, hyung. What’s up?”

“Are you busy right now, Jihoon?”

“No. It’s a slower day today. Do you need something?”

“Yeah, just wanted to let you know that I’ll be in Seoul in a few weeks. Your noona and I are planning on celebrating saying goodbye to our single days by drinking way too much within the span of 12 or so hours. I wanted to see if you were down to join.”

“I probably won’t drink, but if it’s for you, hyung, I’ll go.”

“Nice. And you can feel free to leave after the dinner, we’ll just be at an apartment we’re renting out in Gangnam, since I don’t trust those fools to walk around the streets of Hongdae.”

“I’ll probably do that, I don't want to accidentally be caught by Dispatch.”

“Right, right. We wouldn’t want to sully the name of the best producer in all of K-Pop.”

“That’s a title I don’t think I’ll ever get.”

Your cousin laughed. “You never know, you might get that award sooner than you think, kiddo. Alright, I’ll keep you updated on our schedule. But uh…”

Jihoon knew his hyung well. He was about to bring you up again. “What about her?”

“I just wanted to ask whether you’d be interested in a meet-up with her. Not that we’ve asked her or anything, but I know we’ll probably meet up with her at some point, and I know it’ll feel weird if we’re not all together, you know? The four of us.”

“Yeah… I want to say that I’m courteous enough to wait for her response, but I just know that I’m willing to meet with her, if anything. Even just one last time.”

“That… sounds kinda sad, but. I guess I’ll take it. If you’re down, we could even make it a surprise on her end.”

He imagined your deer in headlights look but couldn’t think further than that. “Sounds like we’d really be putting her on the spot, if that was the case.”

“Hey, she’s rarely played it safe. Same with you. Might as well keep the flow going. And if anything, I’ll take the brunt of it all. She can’t stay mad at me for too long.”

“We both know that’s literally not true.”

“Okay, fine. Your noona can take the blame.”

“Wow, very excited to see how this marriage will go.”

His hyung laughed. “Amazingly, I’m sure.”

A thought occurred to Jihoon and he realized it was strange that he was mentioning it as an afterthought, as if it was something to be expected, something natural and normal. “Oh, hyung. By the way, I’m talking to Y/N again.”

Jihoon heard the undeniable ‘beep beep beep’ of being hung up and he stared confused at his phone screen until he saw another phone call from your cousin. He picked up with a, “Hello?”

Your cousin sounded much more flustered than he did just seconds ago. “Sorry. I hung up because I dropped my phone by accident. Say that again. You’re what?”

“I’m talking to her again. Kind of. I guess. Like, Instagram DMing went to KakaoTalk.”

“Jesus Christ, you slid into her DMs?”

“Can you not say it like that?”

“Can you say that that didn’t happen?”

Jihoon relayed the entire experience to him, only now realizing he didn’t even share all of the details with his members because it would’ve been too much teasing fodder from them. But your cousin, his hyung, was the kind of fellow that wouldn’t do that, even given the opportunity.

──────────────────

“Hyung,” Jihoon started one day, across from said person in a local Busan restaurant. “I don’t get how you’re single.”

“Why, you wanna date me?”

Jihoon’s eye twitched and your cousin laughed. Jihoon bit on his straw, the family style meal between the two young men long since devoured. “People compare us, you know.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “What’s there to compare?”

“I don’t know. So many people around us know how cool you are. You’re good at sports, you’re smart, you have a lot of friends, you’re handsome. Everyone always says you’re one of the best listeners they’ve ever met.”

“The trick is to not pay attention sometimes and just nod.”

“I’m gonna tell Y/N you said that.”

“I’m sure she knows,” he laughed. “Well, I'm honored that you think all of those things, but those are all traits you have too. You do realize that, right?”

Jihoon grunted. “Not… really.”

“Well, just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean others don’t. My cousin definitely does. She’s a good kid and has a good heart. Same with you. If you ever decide to do anything about those feelings of yours, just know that I approve.”

Jihoon nearly choked on his drink. “Wh–?”

“Oh, it was a secret?”

“Hyung!”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t say anything to her, don’t worry. And if you ask me, I’d say that you’re the only one on this planet that even has a chance. Well, except that girl from the cake shop.”

Jihoon sneered.

Fucking Woo Soyeon.

With her shiny hair and long eyelashes and doe eyes and tanned skin from her beach volleyball playing.

Giving out discounts to you like nobody’s business. Calling you cute and flirting nonstop while twirling a lock of her hair. Saying you’re her favorite customer. He could swear Woo Soyeon would throw a knowing smirk at him every time you stuttered a little too long when saying thank you.

That damned girl behind the counter, the one whose beauty and voice (“It’s just so velvety, you know? Like the chocolate cherry cakes.”) he knew you were smitten by.

She was even taller than him, especially in her heels.

At the ripe age of 15, Jihoon understood what jealousy was.

Because of fucking Woo Soyeon.

“Watch out, Jihoon. I can hear your thoughts all the way from over here.”

“Sorry.”

Your cousin laughed. “Trust me, you mean a lot more to her than cake counter girl. My cousin wanted all of us to go see the Christmas lights in the city together. You don’t see her inviting that cake counter girl, do you?”

Jihoon felt a weird sense of pride well up in his chest. Then immediately deflated. It felt stupid to feel like he won against a person who’s just trying to sell cakes to a loyal customer. “Hyung, how do you do it? You’d never let yourself get angry or jealous over stuff like this.”

The older of the two cocked an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“You wouldn’t get jealous over a cake counter girl.”

“Says who? I get jealous. It’s normal, you know. Jealousy isn’t inherently a bad thing. It’s just what you do with it, right? Like, just because you’re jealous of cake counter girl, does that mean you stop Y/N from going to that shop?”

“What? Why would I do that? She loves that shop.”

“Exactly. Emotional maturity doesn’t mean you stop yourself from feeling the emotion, it just means you learn how to handle it as it comes. And once you practice it enough, it becomes easier and easier.”

“You make it sound easy, but it’s not.”

“Hey, I’m not anything big and special myself.”

Jihoon shook his head. “Hyung, you’re a superhuman.”

“No, I’m just human and letting myself be that,” he corrected. “Trust me, there’s plenty of good people out there. A lot of them just aren’t making the decision to do so. It’s easier to be cruel, but. I want to prove that you can be kind and still be a man. We get to define what that means. If I decided to be cruel, to become what society says is ‘a man,’ then I have no doubt Y/N would lose trust in me, and probably, all men.”

Jihoon noticed that his hyung stared at him for a second.

“Actually, maybe not all men.”

Jihoon felt embarrassed, but also honored, at the implication. “Thanks, hyung. You know, for not making fun of me. And for admitting that you also feel those kinds of things.”

“Absolutely, I’m glad I could help.”

“I’m seriously still surprised that you’re single.”

“Yeah, well. That might not always be the case if I can figure out what to do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well… you know your noona?”

──────────────────

Jihoon couldn’t help but shake his head at the way the events unfolded. Your cousin told him about his feelings for his future wife, but it still took a few years for anything to come out of that. He wondered whether being childhood friends had anything to do with it, as if the longer and deeper the bond, the riskier the chasm was to try to jump across.

However, your cousin still managed to do it.

“How did you do it, hyung?”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“Just… how did you manage to tell noona how you felt?”

The older man laughed. “You really think that it was me who confessed? No, no. It was her. I think she was tired of the back and forth that was happening between us. I mean, so was I, but I was a coward, but thankfully, she wasn’t. Now because of her saying that she loved me first, I get to be the one who says it last. Then we start again. It’s a dialogue, you see. It doesn’t matter who starts the line, as long as it continues.”

“Oh…”

“Am I proud that I was a coward? No. I sometimes wish it was me who said it first so she wouldn’t have any room for doubt. But we can’t go back and change the past, only commit to a better future. All of this to say, though, Jihoon, it’s been long enough of not saying anything between the two of you. I don’t think you want to wait any longer.”

“…yeah. I agree.”

That night, hours after preparing for the album, Jihoon’s fingers tapped away on his Notes app.

This waiting, it’s not easy to endure.

It was past 4am now.

But he didn’t want to wait any longer.

So, he switched apps and instead of a blank Note, he began typing into a message box.

i know its late. rehearsal never ends until 3am and i know that when u get texts you wake up even if ur phone is on silent bc the vibration wakes u up so im trying to type this all in one message so that it doesnt wake u up (hopefully) but i didnt want it to seem like i left u on read because i was upset or something. but i didnt want to message until i had the time to have a full conversation but i dont think thats happening any time soon anyway. when you see this i hope it makes sense im not sure if i am

A response from you was the last thing he expected, but you always managed to surprise him.

The first time he heard your voice directly in his ears, he thought he was going to spontaneously combust. But he tried to keep his voice level as he asked you about where you were leaning towards for your career.

The relief that rushed through him.

The hope that ignited in him.

That was the spark needed for him to explode.

And so he did, into words.

“I’m proud of you, you know?”

He heard your throaty stutter, one that only came out whenever you were really caught off guard. “Uh—what?”

“You got a whole ass PhD. From the best university in Korea,” Jihoon still couldn’t believe the two of you went to the same school. “You got offered a job at a super big school in America. One that’s super big in the field that you studied. You graduated from an even school for undergrad, a school that even I know the name of. And just… I know that people expect you to achieve because you’ve always been a genius, always so brilliant, but. You also work really hard. So I’m proud of you.”

He could barely hear your, “It’s not that big of a deal—” over the pounding in his ears.

“But it is, firefly.”

And suddenly he was brought back to all the years before. Where he spent more years in love with you than not. How that nickname encapsulated exactly as he saw you: inspiration, guidance, hope.

“I mean, I just—”

Your flustered response only encouraged him to continue. “You don’t have to believe me. But that won’t stop me from feeling it.”

“Jihoon, I—”

He didn’t realize just how much he’s missed hearing you say his name. But more than that, “I’ve missed you.”

There was a pause on your end, but he was done with his.

“I’ve missed you a stupid amount. Like us stealing your dad’s car to drive to McDonald’s at 3am and then running a red light on the way there. And then somehow almost hitting an entire flock of seagulls—” which he would never admit to being the reason he never wants to get behind the wheel again. “And then going to some random, deserted parking lot. And then realizing we didn’t know the way home, so we drove aimlessly, for, like, 45 minutes. And then panicking when we kept seeing the gas needle going down. That kind of stupid.”

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he was naming a memory that you no doubt remember as well, it was near traumatizing. But there was something in him that didn’t want you to forget. He didn’t want himself to forget. Because…

If I forget someday, as if nothing is wrong,

Our future will be empty and sad.

It’s not that I want to forget you.

Ah, he made a mental note to switch to his Notes app later.

“I… I missed you too.”

Jihoon couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his cheeks, almost to the point of straining them. It was already so late and he still had enough function in his brain to know he ought to cut this short now. Otherwise, he’d be on the phone with you for an ungodly amount of time. “I have to sleep now, but. I just. I couldn’t not tell you. That’s all.”

“Okay.” Your voice sounded so small, he had to press his phone closer to his ear to ensure he didn’t miss anything.

“Get some sleep, firefly. Or should I call you, Dr. Firefly now?”

“That sounds like a cartoon villain.”

He laughed hard at that. You would say that. “Alright, we’ll just go with firefly then.”

‘We’ felt good on his tongue.

“Night, night, Jihoonie.”

“Sleep well, firefly.”

He told you he needed to sleep, but with the way that he was running on sheer endorphins from finally releasing some of that pressure inside of him, sleep was the furthest thing on his mind. Instead, he imagined you getting some well-deserved rest, wondering what kind of dreams you hoped to have.

You were falling asleep, he was falling in love.

──────────────────

In less than 24 hours, he was going to see you in person for the first time in years, no more needing to find YouTube videos or podcasts or news articles or social media posts.

Tomorrow, he’ll be face to face with you.

And the dorm was in chaos.

“He should wear the white button down!”

“No, he should wear something funky, with cool patterns!”

“What? Absolutely not, hyung! Jihoon-hyung looks best in plain clothing, his skin shines that way!”

“Well, he’s been avoiding his skincare, so that might not be the best route to go down.”

“Hoon is handsome no matter what!”

Jihoon was exhausted. Why were his members more invested in this than he was?

Even Soonyoung was getting giddy. And that was a problem. When it came to you, Soonyoung was his voice of reason, but after he relayed the phone call he had with you, Soonyoung was easily won over by your: ‘I missed you too.’

“I knew it!” The tiger had exclaimed.

(Jihoon wasn’t sure whether he did.)

Junhui was thriving off of the chaos and was now leaping across the wooden floor, with Jeonghan quickly on his tail, trying to coerce him into stopping and failing miserably. Seokmin was still trying to convince Seungkwan that a funky pattern was like how, in nature, peacocks showed off to their mates—“he’s not a bird, hyung!”—while Soonyoung kept interjecting saying that Jihoon was attractive no matter what so he could just wear a plastic bag (which earned him a gentle slap by Seokmin). Mingyu disappeared for a moment after Wonwoo’s off-handed comment about Jihoon’s skin, only to return with his skincare products that Jihoon knew were going to be slapped on him soon enough. Seungcheol kept repeating in an exasperated tone, “Stop fighting, we already got a noise complaint this week,” while Jisoo and Minghao were probably off in Jihoon’s closet trying to establish an outfit for him without his consent. Hansol was on his phone, noise-canceling earphones on, completely uninvolved in what was going on. Chan was only goading on whoever was the loudest in the moment (currently, Junhui).

Jihoon piped up. “Do I get an opinion on this?”

In near perfect synchronization (including the boys in his room), everyone responded with a, “No!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

God, tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

[continue reading here]

#lee jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #seventeen fanfiction #svt fanfiction #seventeen #svt #세븐틴 #lee jihoon #woozi #svt fic #seventeen fic #woozi fic #mine #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen drabbles #svt fluff #seventeen angst #svt x reader #Spotify #woozi x you #lee jihoon x you

[saturnville]

Hi 👋🏾

So yesterday I was driving and I was listening to Try Sleeping With A Broken Heart by Alicia Keys & I immediately thought of your Candy Bling - Joe Rantz Fic. I feel like it fits the story so well. Not sure if you plan on adding more to it but with the way it ended, I’d be open to reading it. <3

inseparable | sleeping with a broken heart, joe rantz

pairing: joe rantz x black fem oc (cleotha jean). content: cleo and joe have a conversation. warning: angst. fluff. song: inseparable by mariah carey and try sleeping with a broken heart by alicia keys an: welllll long time, no see. hope y'all enjoyed tags: @neeville @turn-thy-paige @ihe4rtisa @ineedafictionalman @lovebyceleste @alliewassobonum

She had dreamed of this day for months, Where the invisible string between them would become shorter and shorter and their hearts would reunite as one. It was always a fairytale in her eyes; he’d come to her desparate and weeping for her forgiveness and they’d ride off into the sunset with dopey smiles on their faces, drunk off the love they had for one another. 

It was quite the opposite. They sat at opposite ends of her elongated dining room table, fiddling with the delicate wine glasses that held a dangerous amount of sweet red wine that she’d refilled twice more since his arrival. For them to be so uncomfortable in each other’s presence was so unlike them. It drove her mad. 

The silence was deafening and could cut the tension like a sharped-bladed knife. Cleotha wrapped her hand around the body of the glass and brought it to her lips, “What brought you here, Joe?” Her words were muffled from the glass, but he heard her loud and clear. 

Joe’s jaw clenched as he thought long and hard about his answer. Nothing that he said would matter regardless of how he tried to phrase it. Simply put, he was scared. But, he knew she wouldn’t hear that. They were so in love and he proposed to her. If he was scared, he would’ve broken it off sooner than later. But, it wasn’t that he was scared of commitment or being together with her forever, he doubted his ability to be the best life partner he could be. 

His parents’ relationship wasn’t successful; hell, they left him an orphan. There was no guidance on how to be a good man let alone a good partner and soon-to-be husband. So, as he explained to her, “I panicked.” 

Cleotha Jean was not easily amused, but his response drew a chuckle from her. Her tired eyes held no life. “Panicked? About what, Joe? I-I-I’m not understanding. We were together for almost 3 years and you panic weeks after our engagement, call off the wedding, then show up at my house months later just to say you panicked?” 

Joe inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. She was upset and rightfully so. But, the harshness of her words made him want to crawl into a hole and stay there. It was deeper than she thought. Yet, being the emotionally intelligent person she worked to be, Cleotha took note of how he retreated further into his seat and sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that. But, Joe, I just…panicked for what?” 

He panicked. She hurt. She’d lay in bed at night and pray that God would mend the heart she’d feel break like rock to a window. She’d writhe in pain, begging for him to return. He panicked while she suffered. 

“I got in my head, Cleo,” he said shortly. “You have both parents in your life and your father loves your mother more than words can describe. He’s a good man, a good father, and a good husband. I never had that example. I freaked out. I don’t have parents, I don’t have an example of what a good husband should be. The last thing I wanted to do was take this huge step and failing you as a husband. That kind of weight either makes or breaks a person…and it broke me. And I’m sorry for putting you through that.” 

Cleotha’s lips twisted as she fought the lump that formed in her throat. She sought for any form of dishonesty or lack of truth in his eyes, but all she saw was a plea for forgiveness. One more chance, he begged silently.

“It might take forever and a day for you to forgive me, but…I can’t do life without you, Cleo. I tried and I’ve been so miserable. Words can’t make up for anything, but I want to start over.” 

And the question became, would she agree? 

-

“A little to the left, baby,” she said, hands pressed against the small of her back as she waddled toward the middle of the nursery. He glanced upward at her after he made the adjustment to the position of the white crub. “Perfect. Thank you, baby.” 

Her husband stood to his feet and walked toward her with a smile on his face. He planted the softest kiss against her lips, hands around her swelling belly. “You’re welcome. Looking beautiful as ever.” His lips grazed the skin of her neck, making her eyes flutter closed. She giggled and pressed her hands against his chest. “Joe…” 

“I’ll never get enough of you, Cleo,” he drug out her name playfully and pecked her forehead. “Love you darling.” 

Cleotha smiled. Everything that she desired had fallen into place just as it should have and they were inseparable. And boldly, she repeated. “I love you too.”

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #original writing #joe rantz #joe rantz x cleotha jean by saturnville #joe rantz x reader #joe rantz x black!reader #the boys in the boat #tbitb #tbitbedit #callum turner #callum turner x reader #callum turner x black reader #callum turner x black!reader

[miscellaneoussmp]

My love letter to qsmp and qsmpblr.

I saw other people doing this, so I might as well too!!!! I like the positivity of it all!!!

My story with qsmp is kind of a sad one, so sorry, but warning for the death of a loved one is mentioned in the second paragraph.

Originally, I was very excited about qsmp from the day it was announced. Quackity had been one of my favorite content creators for years at that point. Although, the day it started, I was on vacation with my mom and grandma for my little sibling's birthday. I didn't have time to watch day 1, so I just didn't get into it. I got updates through a friend of mine (Hi Warren!!!) meaning I had some idea of what was going on. Plus, I watched clips here and there. (Also, fun fact!!! I voted in the elections for Bad even though I didn't know what was going on!!)

Okay, here's the sad part. In early July of 2023, my grandfather on my mom's side died. It sucked. I was closer with him when I was little, so I didn't know what to feel. It hurts, I think. Everything about that situation sucked, from getting there to the mess that is my big ass family. Though on my last night there, I was thinking about the qsmp for whatever reason. I decided that I wanted to get into it there and then. I sat in the airport waiting to get on an airplane to go home watching qsmp compilations to get caught up. It was amazing. I felt better, just a bit.

I made my first post with the qsmp tag on July 13th, 2023, and y'all have been stuck with my ass ever since.

Now!!! It's time to shout out the lovely people of qsmpblr!!! (Under the cut cause I think this is getting long)

@kadextra Kade!!!! You're the first person I ever followed in qsmpblr and the person who inspired me to keep writing. I can never ever thank you enough for that. Your art is wonderful!!! Please keep creating!!!

@disfrutalakia Kia!!!!! You literally mean the world to me!!!! You were my full introduction to the Brazilians of the server, and I can't thank you enough for that!!! You say my characterization of Pac and Mike is amazing? Well, I couldn't have done it without you!!! Also, thanks for letting me live in your inbox for literal months!!!

@thesmpisonfire Des!!!! Hi bestie!!!! Before we were friends, whenever you were in my notes, I would get so excited!!! I thought you were the coolest person and still do!! Thank you for letting me ramble to you endlessly!!! I love everything we've made together!!!

@ultra-raging-ghost Ghost!!!! King!!!! The beloved ghostie on my dash!!!! And my beloved coauthor of Freaks and Their Tapes!!!! There's a lot I couldn't do without you!!! Thank you for being an amazing friend!!!!! Love you /p <3!!!!

@factorialsotherfandoms Factorial!!!! Beloved!!!! You're an amazing writer and kind friend!!!! I think about your fics all the time!!!! Please keep writing forever and ever!!!!! Please!!!

@iridescentpull Aynée!!!!! My fellow demigod Pac enjoyer!!!!!! I literally screamed when I saw we became mutuals!!!! You're so fucking cool and your writing is amazing!!!! I created demigod Pac content for us only tbh!!!!

@fitpacs Tumblr user fitpacs!!!!! The light on my dash!!! Please keep being so bright!!! I love seeing whatever you post!!!!!

@wsdanon wsd!!!!! The #1 Felps writer in my eyes!!!!! Your writing is beautiful, and characterization is everything!!!!! Adore seeing you on my dash!!! Please keep being you!!!!!

And to any mutuals, anyone in my notes, or just in the community in general!!!! This place would be nothing without y'all!!!!!

Thanks again!!!!!

- Misc, the most annoying qsmp blog ever <3

#qsmp #qsmpblr #sorry this was long yall!!!

[rubyuji]

Fragments (Seungcheol, Mingyu) TEASER

“You know since we are just a few minutes away from landing, did I ever get the chance to thank you for being a huge blessing in my life?” 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐

Genre: Slight angst, fluff, romance

AU: University!au, Coming of Age!au

Pairing(s): (Short) Wonwoo x Afab!reader, Seungcheol x Afab!reader, Mingyu x Afab!reader (Reader is Jeonghan’s little sister)

Warnings: Cheol is lowkey toxic, kinda nonchalant and doesn’t care for their relationship, a kiss scene (how shocking)

Synopsis: Growing up with someone you love isn’t easy, well at least for Seungcheol, he never expected to be a life-altering heartbreak for you either, and while he did wish for a second chance, that plan had only backfired on him when he received an invite to your engagement party with Mingyu.

Note: Not the official fic but it is almost done and in the works, I just have to write a bit more, proofread, and make a few more final edits. If you guys wanna be tagged just let me know, just send me an ask and I’ll add you to the taglist.

WC: estimated 7.5k ish to 8k words

Seungcheol remembered the first time he saw you. It was at his friend Jeonghan’s house, your nose crinkled adorably as you read some cheesy romance novel at sixteen on the cream sofa in the living room.

He had wanted to say something, but all he could do was smile as Jeonghan introduced him to your parents. Since then, he has been practically your family’s newest son besides Joshua, their other best friend.

When Seungcheol had received his fair share of confessions from girls all over the school in his senior year, he had always declined them politely because he was just never interested in any of them, except this time, it was different ever since the day Jeonghan had introduced you to him.

Whenever he would receive a confession from someone, he would see you walk by and forget the girl ever even existed, opting to call out your name instead and jog after you.

He would even walk you to your class or visit you in your classroom, using the ‘protective brother’s friend’ excuse, when in reality, he was only scoping out the potential guys who seemed interested in you in your class.

“Dude, do you like my sister? You look like a lost puppy following her around,” Jeonghan chuckles. Seungcheol raises his brow at his friend and turns to Joshua, who just shrugs as he agrees with Jeonghan.

“You hang around Y/n so much that there’s already rumors being spread of her being your crush or girlfriend,” Joshua says.

© rubyuji 2024’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

#kpop #kpop angst #kpop fluff #kpop ff #kpop fanfic #kpop oneshots #kpop imagines #kpop fanfics #kpop one shot #kpop blurbs #kpop drabbles #kpop au #seventeen #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen ff #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfics #seventeen one shot #seventeen one shots #seventeen imagines #seventeen drabbles #seventeen blurbs #seventeen au #mingyu imagines #scoups imagines #mingyu angst #mingyu fluff #scoups angst #scoups fluff

[halfmoth-halfman]

Leaving this blog.

With my mini-series finishing up soon, I've decided to leave this blog as well as my AO3 account once it’s finished. This is not a decision I've made lightly, but circumstances have left this a place where I no longer feel safe.

As of now, I won't be deactivating this blog and will be leaving my fics up for anyone who'd still like to read them. I can't say this decision won't change later, but right now I feel that I've put too much work into this blog to simple delete it.

Below the cut is an explanation of why I'm making this decision, and what has been happening on this blog since the end of last year. It's not required to read or anything to understand the gist of this post; it's simply for my own peace of mind knowing that I spoke up about it. There will be topics that are possibly triggering such as harassment, threats, and racism so please mind the warnings and tags.

The mini-series is queued to finish next week, but there will be no more fic polls or wip wednesdays. I'll still be on here to make sure the queue does its job, and maybe post some stuff from my old drafts as a last bit of fun.

I'll have dms tentatively open for the next two-ish weeks for those who'd like to follow my new account, however I will not be answering anything from empty blogs. After that, asks and dms will be turned off, and I won't be coming back to this blog very often, if at all.

I cannot say thank you enough to the wonderful readers I've had and the amazing people I've met. I don't think I would've ever continued writing without your support and friendship. There's nothing I can do to show my appreciation for all of you.

Maybe we'll see each other again. If not, I hope your inspiration is always flowing, and 2024 treats you kindly.

Mothie 💜

Again, TW: rape/death threats, violent racism, repeated harassment, and mental health.

Back in November, I started getting rude, mean-spirited anons. It wasn't anything I was too bothered with because it didn't happen often and, honestly, my inbox gets flooded for a week or so anytime I post about certain topics. I blocked, deleted, reported and moved on thinking whoever it was would get bored and leave.

However, what started as a few rude anons calling me a bitch or stupid turned into a lot of anons being vile and racist which only worsened over the next few months.

I spoke about it in this post (link) near the end of November. In that post, I mentioned that those were the nicer asks and that was not an exaggeration. I have gotten my fair share of shitty anons as seen here (link) when I had to take a break from my blog because of said anons, but I have never gotten the amount of vitriol that I saw in these asks.

When I turned anon off, I started getting even worse messages from empty blogs that would either be blocked or deactivate within a week. When I turned my askbox off, I started getting hateful DMs. When I turned DMs off, it jumped from Tumblr to my other social medias which I had to private, completely avoid, or outright delete.

I got messages attacking my writing, calling me slurs, threatening to find me and rape or kill me, sending me explicit porn and rape videos while insulting my sexuality, and going into gross detail about how much people I interacted with hated me or how I would never be as good as them. I tried to power through it, pretending everything was fine while I pulled away from this blog, from writing, from friends that I loved and talked to every day. Everything about this blog, the fandoms I enjoyed, the people I talked to, made me so anxious because of these constant messages.

I took several breaks while dealing with this in therapy, repeatedly trying to come back and get comfortable on this blog, but within a few days of coming back the messages would start up again, either here or on any of my social medias I tried to unprivate, and I couldn't deal with it.

Only in the last week or two has it started to slow down and stop on a few of my other socials, which is the only reason I even feel comfortable making this post. However, in regards to this blog and my feelings toward it, the damage is done.

I don't think I can ever truly convey how isolating this has been. So many of these messages were about how I've spoken about my struggles as a black woman in fandom, how much of a burden it puts on the people who interact with me, how inferior I am to them and that I am everything that's wrong with fandom.

I felt scared and anxious to talk to anyone about this, especially people mentioned in those messages, out of fear that this harassment would jump to them. There are friendships that I stepped away from that I will never get back because of that. There are friends that I've felt like I was betraying by never telling them about what was happening because I felt too ashamed about letting this get to me.

I constantly worried that making a post like this would feel like, "Oh, Mothie's whining and trauma-dumping into the void about fandom racism again", that those messages would be right and it would force people to feel like they had to support me. Or worse, that people would agree and it would only make things worse. I've wrestled with so much guilt trying to decide to make this post and figure out what to do to make me trust myself again.

Ultimately, I don't think I was wrong for talking about my issues in fandom, and I don't think anything I've said has warranted this kind of harassment. I don’t know the who’s or why’s behind of this, but I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never really know. Truthfully, I'm not sure it even matters at this point. In the end, I think moving on from this blog entirely would be the best thing for me right now.

But, man, does it fucking suck.

This was the blog where I felt comfortable enough to start writing again, to start posting my fics. It's the blog where I met so many friends, got the courage to join new communities, found new hobbies, new music, new things to enjoy in life. It feels silly to say about a blog, but this was a place where I felt like I was able to carve out a space for myself. I put so much work into making it my own, and now the only thing I feel about it is anxious.

Hate messages and threats and racism have always been a part of fandom, and the internet as a whole. I’ve known since I started participating in fandom spaces that it was going to and continue to happen. I've known that I had to have a tough skin, especially if I ever spoke up about problems I faced because no one was going to have my back if I didn't have my own. I thought I had learned how to deal with it, and how to make a safe space for myself. But this goes beyond that. I did not deserve this. No one deserves this.

In some ways, it feels like admitting defeat, like I'm weak or hypocritical for not being as strong as I pretended I was and leaving. In other ways, it feels freeing to start over, and I'm choosing to view look at this optimistically even if it bittersweet. I don't want to let this scare me away from writing or from speaking about things that are important to me. All I can do now is say I'm so incredibly sorry to those I've hurt by stepping away or keeping this secret, and make sure I'm able to at least leave this blog on as happy a note as I can have.

#moth talks #tw: rape #tw: racism #tw: mental health #tw: misogyny #tw: harassment #tw: death threats

[jamieylnn]

I have never done this before, but I'm now doing fic writing so I think that means I'm allowed to do such a thing and am taking @caterpills's open tag to do it. It's also definitely Ten Several Sentences Sunday, because I can't be contained~ Anyway, in my note for just look at him, I hinted that I've had a Modern AU Dorym fic in my head for a while and this is an excerpt from one of the chapters I've been noodling on. Someday I'll get around to polishing things further, but for the meantime, please have this offering. This chapter was feelsy to write, but I like what I have so far.

He let the phone continue to the next saved message. "I'm watching you do yoga right now. I'm making coffee and you're outside in the backyard, not even wearing a shirt and it's—hang on. It's not even 50 degrees out, I swear. Oh, the weather app says it's 64, but still. I'm not complaining, though, because holy shit, you look—oh fuck, you saw me, okay love you bye—" "I know you're doing important work right now, but I miss you. Call me when you get back to your hotel room. I love you, Orym." "I just texted you, but I thought I'd try calling and before you say I told you so, please know that I know you were right and I know I should have taken my car in to get the tires replaced weeks ago so you don't need to remind me when I tell you that my tire went and I need you to come and get me, because I can stomach a lecture from you better than the one Dad will give me so please call me back as—oh that's you—"

Just an open tag, feel free to go for it. 💙💚

#several sentences sunday #critical role #critical role fic #dorym #dorym fic #dorian storm #orym #orym of the air ashari #big moon little moon

[ian-galagher]

Hey Willow !

What do you think would have happened if Larry would have sent Mickey the link to the video of Shelly's arrest 10 minutes later? Who Ian have signed the papers? Would they be mad at each other that the other own thought they killed Paula? Would they still have a wedding party eventually?

Hello Anon 😁🧡

OOOOOOOOH! What a brilliant question!!

I think they would've gotten married that day.

That video would've come out eventually, and I think Mickey would've been petty enough to file for divorce. Likewise, Ian would've been stubborn enough to actually sign the papers.

The whole Byron or Barry or whoever thing would've still happened and there would've been a real marriage at the end of the road. (As if Mickey was ever going to pass up the opportunity to be a bridezilla!)

I actually like this version better 😂 imagine Ian getting on one knee: would you marry me Mickey? .....again?

And all the Gallagher's reactions!

Lip; thought you'd already gotten married? Like a week ago?

Or Debbie; what, again?! Are you sure?! Why bother, you're just going to divorce him again a week after anyway.

Ian: no, that was a mistake. This time it's serious!

Debs: we'll see... 🙄

#thank you for sending me these!! 🥰🧡 #i saw your tags on my fic and i love you! #especially for you #have a n5 teaser #Mickey caught him staring at his ass #Their eyes met briefly over his shoulder before Mickey turned back to the view in front of him #cigarette dangling between his fingers #“What?” he drawled #blowing out a stream of smoke #Ian smiled slowly #“Just wondering if we can get a late check-out.” #“We got work to do green eyes” Mickey huffed #bringing the cigarette back to his lips #👀👀👀 ONE MORE WEEK TO GO!!!!! it's gonna get GOOD 🪶 #shameless #ask #anon

[lovesickeros]

☆ you sow; & thus you shall reap what you are owed

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, violence {☆} word count 0.8k

You are dying.

Gold melts into the dirt, bleeds into the very earth that you'd molded by your own hands – a familiarity you do not understand the source of – you know it to be true, yet you do not remember it as Teyvat does. It weeps, in turn, for the way you bleed upon it, the way your lungs strain for breath.

It is fury and sorrow and fear and hatred so raw that your mind buckles.

You will die.

"A dying godling and its judge, it's jury – it's executioners," The voice is hollow and cold, sweeps across your broken body like the first chill of winter, "Archons who saw themselves Gods, now brought to heel by their own hubris."

A cold hand upon your cheek, the brush of a thumb across your lip, the gentle caress of cold across your skin. You know her – you don't remember, you shouldn't recognize her but you do – and she knows you. The cold beckons and you follow, let her kindness settle in the hollow space of your chest. You want to speak, to cry and scream and rage, let the world burn around you in a fit of flames so hot even she cannot contain it – but she silences you, quiets the anger seeping into your blood, quiets Teyvat itself.

"Do not speak, little godling. Guide my hand," She is cold; her hands are not gentle, yet it is bliss compared to the callous, cruel hands that have shattered you. She is cruel and cold and brutal but she is love in the way she kisses the crown of your head. She is love in the way she is the bulwark between you and the world that has scorned you – she is fury in the way she brings them to their knees. "And I shall enact judgement most divine."

They will pray for forgiveness, and they shall find themselves wanting.

"It wasn't our fault!" They cry, but you cannot recognize the voice – it breaks and cracks like glass. "They were too human. How were we meant to know? We– we thought they were.."

Silence.

You watch your judge – the executioner, the blade that shall carve their sins into the very marrow of Teyvat, stand above you like death. As cold as winter and just as brutal. Your temple has been painted in the gold of your divine blood, and she shall complete the masterpiece with their own. The Archons shall become the grandest art in the world – this temple the canvas, their blood the paint and their bodies the palette. The cold that cuts sinew cradles you – it sings to you, whispers sweetly in your ear and carves bone from body in the same breath. The cold presses it's lips to your wrist and it cradles a heart within it's palm – judges them and finds them guilty.

It is her spear that rests between their ribs, her sword that dissects and her dagger that carves – the cold devours.

In the breadth of this divine sanctuary, the Archons dwindle. They become the pieces of a divine work of art, they bleed and bend and break upon her hands. She shakes the heavens and carves mortality into the bones of the divine – your word is Law, and you weave their deaths into the roots of Teyvat itself.

They shall know of their grand folly in every moment henceforth and longer still and they shall weep.

And as the curtain falls, as the world crumbles beneath fist and blade, she cradles your face between hands too cold – as gentle as a shard of ice between your ribs, as brutal as the kiss of gentle snowfall. The world buckles at the loss of six, but she alone does not allow it to break – you will have to mend the wounds of the world when you are well, but today you weep and Teyvat weeps with you.

And alone, the cold remains.

Stone has eroded, the wind has ceased, the flames have been extinguished, the storm has been silenced, the forests have gone quiet and the seas go still.

But the cold remains, bathed in gold.

It wraps you in thick furs, cradles you against the winter storm that brews beneath a veneer of composure. It brings you home – lets the world settle into a stillness and silence that inspires only dread and still she presses a kiss to your brow.

It is cold, but there has never been something so warm.

Where hands have broken you, she drapes you in furs, wipes away the thick gold that clings to your skin. She pieces you back together where you have been shattered, reshapes you where you have been bent – makes of you something new. Not a god and not a mortal but something wedged between them.

But you are yourself.

And you are where you belong.

They shall put you back together and you shall know only the worship worthy of the divine. They shall carve this world into your image, tear out and burn away the rot that festers.

All you need to do is say the word and they shall be your tools to make this world your own.

One word and those who wronged you shall burn, too.

Just one word. That's all it takes, and they shall take away your pain.

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #genshin cult au #genshin impact cult au #tsaritsa #“eros you left for a month again” yeah................. #anyway. posts tsaritsa fic and leaves #i kept it kinda vague but the fatui are all on your side. whether or not your actually the creator or not though.. #now thats up for debate. #did they tamper w teyvat to kill the archons? to break the world to be remade in whatever image they see fit? #using you as the means of their end? #maybe you are the creator and they just saw an opportunity. maybe they are just devoted to you. #i just think lowkey villain au but specifically imposter au where the only ones who side w u r the fatui like OUGH #i love the fatui. them being the only ones 2 side w u is so tasty #prime material for angst bc the self doubt if the only ppl who believe u r the “villains” #a lot of this is just like. tsaritsa posting again though #the tsaritsa who loves so deeply yet cannot love #contradictions all the way down #she loves you but she cannot love you. #she loves you but she will put a dagger between your ribs. she loves you but she is incapable of love #tsaritsa the woman that u r ough #harbingers and their complex relations 2 love my beloved #smth smth tsaritsa seeing an opportunity to install a puppet “creator” which creates a separate imposter!au when the actual creator pops in #did i write this just 2 write tsaritsa being vague and Weird and horrifying and a horror and a lover and just a woman and #yeah :] #please talk 2 me abt the tsaritsa pleas epleas pleas eplease please please please p[lease please pleas

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

#sorry i got really into my feelings about mark hoffman again #the very specific version of him in my brain that i really really wish i had the time and energy to properly share with you guys #saw #well until i muster the energy to explode all of my feelings out into a fic. if you want to TRY and understand #know that my three biggest hoffman fic insps right now are as follows #your best kept secret hoffman. a series of mistakes hoffman. and rushed like a dreadful wind hoffman. #there is a very clear throughline just know i am extremely emotionally compromised rn #thinking about theee fics vs the canon path hoffman spirals down #something something the absolute tragedy of watching a man's descent into madness #the transformation of a man into a monster #and what could have saved him from himself and kramer's corruption #sorry i'm rambling so much oh my god i was just having such a crying fit out of nowhere about this #do you think he could feel it happening. do you think he was aware he was losing his mind. #the script version of him fucks with me so bad. the crazed rankings and the longer hair and him not being well kept anymore #it's impossible to think he didn't know he was deteriorating #fuuuck okay i need to either chill or write a whole longfic rn #i project on that guy so much i truly don't know if i could properly write my vision of him #until i do something more substantial the full extent of my hoffman exists for me and my boyfriend only. they get me like no one else #well ginny and jenna also get me. please read best kept secret and a series of mistakes Oh My God #where am i going with this. i like tag rambling actually this is a nice way to do it without forcing EVERYONE to read my delirium #anyways if you've read all of this i think i love you? feel free to dm me about hoffman and my very specific headcanons and aus #maybe soon i'll try and start writing my fics about this tragic man #i could never say any of this on twitter btw they'd string me up for my opinions on him as a sad wet beast who could have been fixed #if only he hadn't been weaponized first #god i'm too tired to even be as embarrassed about this as i should be. thought i unlearned cringe already #but i've been spending way too much time on twitter and they HAAATE hoffman there #rip. i know it's not that serious but i'm sensitive rn and hate feeling lonely in my thoughts #ok bye for real otherwise i'll never shut up. i might tag ramble more often bc this was therapeutic in a way i needed badly #cat chat