im-gemmy

[im-gemmy]

safe in your arms˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

(seungcheol x reader) - part 2 to nowhere to hide୨ৎ

seungcheol doesn’t take you home.

he doesn’t even ask. the second he pulls away from the hug, he’s guiding you to his car, his grip firm but gentle. you don’t argue. you can’t. not when your hands are still shaking, not when the image of that polaroid is burned into your mind.

the drive is quiet. his jaw is tight, knuckles white where they grip the steering wheel. you know he’s trying to keep himself in check, to stay calm for your sake.

but you also know him.

his mind is racing.

so is yours.

“cheol,” you whisper.

his grip tightens. “i know.”

you don’t have to say it.

whoever this is… they’re not stopping.

—

his apartment is the only place that feels safe right now.

it’s familiar—warm, smelling like him, like home. but even here, you can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

seungcheol notices.

he always does.

“baby.” he kneels in front of you, taking your hands in his. they’re still trembling. so are his.

“it’s okay,” he says, but his voice is rough, raw. like he’s trying to convince himself, too.

you shake your head. “it’s not.”

his jaw clenches.

and then he’s pulling you into his arms again, pressing a kiss to your temple, his touch desperate, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“i should’ve known,” he whispers. “i should’ve noticed sooner.”

“cheol, this isn’t your fault.”

his grip tightens.

“it doesn’t matter. we’re ending this.”

—

the police take it seriously.

the polaroid. the calls. the messages. the break-in. they track the accounts, check security cameras, ask you and seungcheol question after question.

you let him do most of the talking.

he’s furious but controlled, his voice sharp, protective in a way that makes your chest ache.

but then—

they find them.

a stranger. someone you’ve never met. someone who had been watching from a distance, following too close without you ever noticing.

it makes your stomach churn.

but they’re caught.

and that’s what matters.

—

later, after everything—after the police leave, after the fear settles into exhaustion—you find yourself curled up in seungcheol’s bed, his hoodie swallowing you whole.

he sits beside you, silent, his fingers tracing absentminded circles on your arm.

“it’s over,” you whisper.

he exhales, like he’s been holding his breath for days. “yeah.”

but he still looks worried.

you nudge him. “cheol.”

his eyes flicker to yours, and for the first time tonight, the tension softens.

“you’re staying here,” he says. “no arguing.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “i wasn’t planning to.”

he huffs, but then his hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin, like he needs to remind himself that you’re here, that you’re safe.

“i’m not letting anything like this happen again,” he murmurs.

you lean into his touch.

“i know.”

he exhales again, but this time, it’s lighter. then—

“i’m still changing the locks on your apartment.”

you groan. “cheol—”

“and you’re getting security.”

“cheol.”

“and you’re—”

you cut him off with a kiss, laughing against his lips when he tries to keep scolding you.

he sighs, but you feel him smile against your mouth. “you’re impossible.”

you grin. “but i’m safe.”

his arms wrap around you, holding you close, warm and solid and steady.

“yeah,” he murmurs. “you are.”

[im-gemmy]

nowhere to hide୨ৎ

(seungcheol x reader)

at first, it’s little things.

a comment that feels too personal under one of your old posts. a dm from an account with no profile picture, asking about things you’ve never shared online. you brush it off - coincidence, a random troll, nothing to worry about.

then, it escalates.

someone starts calling your work phone, never speaking—just breathing. you start seeing the same username in every live broadcast, always posting cryptic warnings. and then, one night, you come home to find an envelope on your doorstep. inside are pictures—of you.

walking to the grocery store. waiting at a bus stop. standing by your apartment window.

you don’t tell seungcheol. not yet. he already has enough on his plate, and it’s probably nothing. maybe just a weird fan who took things too far. you block the accounts, delete the messages, try to pretend it doesn’t scare you.

but then—

someone breaks into your apartment.

you don’t hear them at first. you’re in the shower, water running too loud, drowning out the sound of your front door unlocking. it’s only when you step out—wrapped in a towel, feet padding across the floor—that you notice something’s off.

your bedroom door is open. you’re sure you closed it.

your heart pounds as you push it open, and that’s when you see it.

your bedside table drawer is open. your things are scattered, like someone was searching for something. but it’s what’s on your pillow that makes your stomach drop.

a polaroid.

of you.

asleep.

your breath catches in your throat. a sharp, icy fear wraps around you, locking you in place.

they were here. they were in your room. watching you. taking pictures.

your hands shake as you reach for your phone, dialing the only person you can think of.

"cheol?" your voice is barely a whisper, but the second he hears it, he knows something’s wrong.

"baby? what’s wrong?"

"someone—someone was here."

there’s a beat of silence. then, his voice hardens. "where are you?"

"at home—"

"get out. now."

"cheol—"

"don’t argue, just go. i’m coming to get you."

you don’t remember grabbing your things. don’t remember running barefoot down the stairs, into the cold night air. all you know is that seungcheol is there within minutes, door slamming as he rushes toward you.

his hands are on your face, checking you over, eyes wild with worry. "are you hurt? did they—"

"no," you whisper, but your voice shakes. "they were in my room, cheol. they—" you choke on the words, panic clawing up your throat.

he pulls you into his arms, holding you so tight it knocks the air out of you. "it’s okay. you’re safe now. i promise you’re safe."

but you can feel the way his hands tremble against your back. how his heartbeat is just as frantic as yours.

because deep down, you both know—

this is far from over.

[im-gemmy]

seokmin’s nose was made to be SIT on it. he got the sharpest, longest, freakiest nose i’ve ever seen.

that drives me insane, imagine sitting on it his strong arms keeping you firmly in place on his face. ‘’stay still, sweetie’’ his voice muffled by your pussy, sending waves of pleasures through your body.

‘’m-minnie, ‘m afraid i-i’m suffocating you’’ and that would only make seokmin push you down harder, his nose bumping perfectly against your clit. ‘’don’t care,’’ he groans, seokmin was druuuunk into your sent, his tongue lapping at your cunt, teasing your entrance.

he was too good at eating you out, no one had ever ate you like that, and obviously his perfect straight nose hitting sweetly your clit each time he moved his head was jackpot.

[im-gemmy]

text me when you get home˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

(seungcheol x reader)

"in 3, 2, 1..."

deet deet deet

the sound of the 5 pm office clock brings bliss to your ears. cue the shuffle of chairs, the murmur of goodbyes, the distant hum of printers still running.

and just like clockwork—

5:01 PM

cheolie: text me when you get home.

you don’t even think twice before replying.

you: okay, okay, dad lol

he doesn’t respond, but you know he’s rolling his eyes. with a grin, you tuck your phone away, grab your bag, and head toward the entrance.

but then—

"hey, wanna grab dinner with us?"

your coworker’s voice stops you in your tracks. you hesitate for only a second before nodding. why not?

one dinner turns into a long conversation, laughter stretching into the night, your phone untouched at the bottom of your bag.

seungcheol, on the other hand, is not having as great of a time.

your apartment buzzer blares at 11:47 PM.

the sound startles you, cutting through the peaceful haze of post-dinner sleepiness. furrowing your brows, you shuffle over and press the intercom.

"who is it?"

"who do you think?"

you freeze.

seungcheol.

oh, shit.

you scramble to unlock the door, and the moment you swing it open, you’re met with your very unamused boyfriend standing in your doorway, arms crossed, brows furrowed, looking every bit like a disapproving dad.

"um. hi?" you offer, trying for innocent.

he exhales sharply. "do you know what time it is?"

you wince. "…a little past eleven?"

"almost midnight," he corrects, stepping inside, and you immediately register the telltale signs of his concern—his hoodie is slightly disheveled, his hair is tousled like he ran his fingers through it too many times, and his phone is still in his hand, like he’s been checking it repeatedly.

guilt seeps into your stomach. "cheol, i—"

"you forgot." his voice softens, but his expression remains firm. "i waited. i called. and when you didn’t answer—" he sighs, rubbing his temple. "you scared the hell out of me."

you bite your lip. he really did wait.

before you can apologize, he sighs again and suddenly pulls you into his chest, arms tight around you with his chin resting on the top of your head.

"don’t do that again," he murmurs. "please."

you wrap your arms around him just as tightly, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. "i won’t," you mumble. "sorry."

he huffs. "you better be." but then, quieter— "i'm glad you’re safe, baby."

you pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him. "you’re really cute when you’re worried, you know that?"

his pout deepens. "i’m not cute, i’m serious."

you poke his cheek. "so serious."

"you’re the worst," he mutters, but his lips twitch, and when you press a quick kiss to his pout, he finally lets out a reluctant chuckle.

"yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he grumbles, ruffling your hair. "but next time? text me when you get home."

"i will," you promise, and this time, you mean it.

because as much as you tease him, as much as he nags—you know it’s just because he cares

[im-gemmy]

falling for you˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

(hoshi x reader)

“okay, baby, watch me first.”

hoshi grins as he steps back, completely in his element. his footwork is quick, sharp, and way too effortless for her liking. he lands the final step with a little spin and then turns to her, eyes sparkling.

“got it?”

she stares at him. “absolutely not.”

hoshi laughs, already reaching for her hands. “come on, i’ll guide you.”

they’re in the practice room, just the two of them, the speakers playing a slowed-down version of seventeen’s track. hoshi had been so sure she could do this move, insisting it wasn’t that hard, that she just needed the right teacher.

so far? he was wrong.

“okay,” he says, moving behind her, his hands settling lightly on her waist. “step forward—good—then cross your foot over, and—”

her foot catches on his.

there’s a split second where they both realize this is not going to end well.

“hoshi—”

“wait, wait—”

crash.

they hit the floor in a mess of tangled limbs, her landing half on top of him, his arm still wrapped around her like he tried (and failed) to catch her.

she groans, forehead dropping against his chest. “this is all your fault.”

“excuse me?” he huffs, holding onto her tighter. “you tripped me!”

she lifts her head to glare at him, but his wide grin is already in place, like he’s proud of this disaster.

“why do you look happy?” she asks.

hoshi shrugs. “because now i get to lie down with you.”

she tries to sit up, but he pulls her right back down, arms caging her in. she huffs a laugh, shaking her head.

“you weren’t supposed to fall with me,” she says between giggles, voice light and breathless.

hoshi hums, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “baby, i go where you go.”

and just like that, she forgets why she was even trying to be mad.

[im-gemmy]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 26

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n my cat is very sick this weekend so leave some comments to distract me, thankyou. have a lovely weekend, cuddle your pets

previous | masterlist | next

---

Your phone drops from your hands onto the floor of the practice room, thunking softly against the hardwood. Your head follows, falling backwards in a controlled motion that ripples pain through the sore muscles of your abdomen, your legs, your back. The bright lights of the ceiling are little relief, even when you throw an arm over your tired eyes.

Your whole body aches, but that's nothing new. You've been at it for hours - and days, and months. You work hard and the crowd won't cheer, and you work harder and the company ask for more, and you put your every waking moment towards it and the fans don't see the difference, and the voices online are never happy, and the work just keeps coming, one performance after another, opportunity after opportunity to make a fool of yourself.

Your body hurts. It's inevitable. 

It's fine, even. It's been six years since you traded in youth for the promise of fame, after all; pain becomes a constant companion after a point, every dancer knows that. If your body doesn't hurt, then you're probably doing something wrong.

You have to get up. 

It's your own voice that gives the order, your mind that knows you have another performance to run through before you can be done, but your body doesn't move, the heat of it soaking into the lacquered floor. The will to dance has leeched out of your bones with it, and it feels guilty to admit that even to yourself, but there is nothing in you that wants to dance again. You kind of hate dancing right now - but this is your dream and there's one chance to get it right, and you cannot hate dance for even one moment.

You have to get up. You don't move.

The door opens, but you barely notice it, your breath settling and your eyes blocked from the light. You don't open them until the toe of a shoe nudges your side; then, you squint up at the blurry figure above you, waiting for your tired eyes to adjust again.

It's more the shape of his shoulders and the stout figure that give him away than the details of his face. "Binnie," you greet him with a sigh and rub at your face. "What's up?"

"Nothing," he answers. "Were you asleep?"

"No." You look up into his face again, but you're not sure he's convinced. "I'm just...resting."

A wry grin crosses his face, laughing out at you even as he offers you a hand up. "You looked more like you were dying," he tells you as he pulls you up into a sitting position.  "Or in a crisis."

"I am in a crisis," you quip. "I'm not very good at my job."

A finger flicks your forehead. You stare up at him accusingly, but he only shrugs. "People who say bad things about our noona get flicked," he informs you, and he doesn't sound the least bit remorseful. 

"You've got a lot of Stays to flick then," you grumble; and then add, "Slacker," to cover up the guilt that stabs at you so hard you nearly cringe at yourself. Ungrateful, he's going to say, or whiny. It's all you can think, so surely he would too. 

All he does is smile though. "After lunch," he promises. "Are you coming to eat with me?"

You stare at him, bemused. "I'm in the middle of dance practice."

Changbin frowns. "You said in the group chat that you were done."

"With that performance, yeah," you say, your hand drifting unconsciously towards your phone. "I still have the MAMA performance to try."

"It can wait until after lunch."

"Lunch can wait until after practice too."

"Not if it's that new place around the corner," he argues. "They close so early, this is my only chance."

You don't mean to, but you know your face tightens and your belly rumbles, suddenly aware of how hungry you are. "I have a diet, Changbin," you remind him gently. "There's at least four of the other kids at the company, they'll go with you."

"You've been suggested a diet," he amends without missing a beat. "Doesn't mean you have to do it."

"Do you come from another planet?" you scoff, squinting up at him. "Did we not sign the same contract?"

The smile he gives you is impish, spelling out trouble all over his face. "If you just ignore them long enough, they give up," he informs you proudly.

Your gaze runs over him again critically, tight shirt and loose pants cutting a figure you could never hope to mimic. "You're all muscle though," you point out, your finger jabbing accusingly in the direction of his chest, "even though you eat like a garbage can. Some of us are just fat."

"Garbage can?" he repeats incredulously, his voice rising with every syllable. He steps back, shaking his head, and you climb to your feet yourself, reaching back to fix your hair as you stand. "I eat like a normal person."

"Like three normal people, maybe."

"Come to lunch with me and I bet you'll eat more than me."

"You can come to lunch with me, in the cafeteria, sure."

He stares defiantly as he chooses his next words. You meet his gaze evenly. "I don't want to eat chicken and salad in the cafeteria," he whines after a moment. "Who even said that you were fat?"

"JYP himself," you deadpan, only cracking a smile at the anguished laugh that comes out of his mouth in response. "I don't know. A manager somewhere. Does it matter?"

You can see the teasing spirit drain from his face as his smile fades, his face turning to things that are softer, more serious. "As long as you know that you're pretty enough to make most of us look ugly, it doesn't matter."

You scoff again, your tongue tasting acerbic against the embarrassed red of your cheeks. "Pretty enough to be here," you reply. "Not the prettiest."

Changbin's arm is a heavy weight across your shoulders, squeezing you tightly as he all but drags you towards the door. "You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he says; and somehow, it is so friendly a comment that it doesn't heat your face again, nor come off as awkward; but that is Changbin's effortless charm, his friendliness. His ability to listen without judging.

Anyway, your lips curve up into a smile, your elbow digging into his side just long enough to make him let go of you so that you can open the door. "It's all plastic, buddy," you quip as he steps through, and pull it closed behind you. "I'm a modern scientific miracle."

For several seconds, he just looks at you, unsure whether to laugh or not. "Have you done anything?" he asks, just to ask, ambling along casually beside you. "You have such a nice face shape."

You contemplate your answer before you give it, your mouth opening and then closing again. "Maybe a little here and there," you say and let a little grin slip onto your face. "Maybe not. You know I was dropped from Midnight for being 'the wrong look', right?"

"I didn't know that," he says, cutting a glance at you. You wonder if, under the genuine astonishment that plays out over his face, he can see the way that acknowledgement still guts you like a knife. You'd managed to say it out loud without cringing away from it, at least; maybe the hurt is starting to dull. Maybe one of these days you'll be able to look forward at what you've got without also looking back at what they'd taken away from you.

"Well don't go changing now," Changbin says, pushing straight past the whole dilemma. "They think you're the right look for us; don't ruin it."

"I only aspire to look like you, Changbin-ssi," you assure him. 

He laughs at you; actually, properly laughs, his voice echoing down the hallway. "You can start by actually going to the gym," he tells you. "And going to eat ramen at the new place down the street. You can't claim to be Changbin when you're so small."

"Bit rich, coming from the smallest person in the group," you mutter under your breath, and you can't help but snort a laugh at the affronted shout that sounds from beside you as he tows you towards the elevators.

---

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids

@hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts

@puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night

@d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk

@minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification

@starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002

@hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff

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@jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @hynjinswrld @duhgurl @cheshireshiya

@keepswingin

[im-gemmy]

like a python 🧊 jihoon x reader.

jihoon doesn’t know how many years of pining he has left in him.

★ rockstar!jihoon x reader. ★ word count: 2.5k ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: non-idol. jihoon-centric, childhood friends, yearning... so much yearning, young k makes a cameo, jihoon is a bit lame (affectionately), cussing/swearing. mentions of alcohol, food. ★ footnotes: got7 dropped winter heptagon and it's all i can think about. wrote this in one sitting as a show of gratitude to @chugging-antiseptic-dye for introducing me to these boys. haven't done a song fic in a hot minute, but for lee jihoon and got7? anything. shoutout to igot7_MarKP on twitter for the english translation of the lyrics.

🎧 now playing: python by got7 — i know i'm an icon, watch me with the lights on; but she got a hold on me like a python.

▸ MUSIC IS HOW I'VE BEEN VENTING NOW... OVERSEAS, I'M SELLING OUT.

It’s pretty surreal to Jihoon, being in a room with some of the biggest names in rock.

In the past hour alone, he’s met Alex Turner, Dave Grohl, and— holy shit, is that Hayley Williams? Jihoon is getting dizzy, and it’s not only because of all the secondhand smoke he’s inhaled since he got to the Rolling Stones afterparty. 

The best of the best. That’s what the invitation had boasted. It was the scene’s most coveted event, and Jihoon somehow made it to the guest list. 

Unbidden, your voice nags from somewhere in the back of his mind. You’re the best, Jihoon-ah. 

He shakes his head, like he’s physically trying to get away from the thought of you. This had been happening a lot more as of late. Fleeting moments wherein he’d imagine how you would react, what you’d say. 

But Jihoon always catches himself. He snaps himself out of it and goes back to recording, goes back to performing. 

God, he needs to get it together. He’s starting to regret saying ‘no’ to the cigarette Ely Buendia was offering him earlier. 

(In Jihoon’s defense, he didn’t smoke often. He didn’t want to fuck up his vocal chords. He had a one-cigarette-a-year rule, and he wasn’t about to use it now. It was only January; who knew what else the year would throw him?) 

Jihoon is contemplating some other vice— maybe he can go grab another beer— when he feels a tap on his shoulder. At the sight of who came up to him, Jihoon immediately folds into a bow. 

“There’s no need for that,” Younghyun says, equal parts amused and embarrassed. “We’re all the same here, yeah?” 

Jihoon pulls himself to his full height. “Not… really,” he says lamely, and then he immediately launches into mumbled apologies when he realizes how he might have sounded. 

It wasn’t that Jihoon thought he was better than his peers. Hell, he knew that he was the least important person in the room. That’s what he meant; they were not all the same, because Jihoon still had a long ways to go. 

Especially when compared to rock icon Young K, who is— gracefully— taking Jihoon’s awkwardness in stride. 

“You’re holding up a lot better than me,” Younghyun muses. “At my first afterparty, I threw up on Rupam Islam.” 

“No.” 

“Yes, unfortunately. He was very nice about it, though.” 

Jihoon lets out a stutter of a laugh. He’s never been a fan of small talk, but he clings to it now like a lifeline. “Does it get easier?” he asks. 

Younghyun’s eyebrows raise. “Throwing up on rockstars?” 

“No, no–”

“I was kidding,” Younghyun says in between chuckles. His expression is a little more pensive when he goes on, “I can’t say for sure that it gets easier, but you learn to deal with it.” 

You learn to deal with it. Jihoon can almost laugh at just how accurate that is. It seems applicable to every aspect of his life— including missing you. 

Jihoon winces. Younghyun notices. 

The older man doesn’t comment on it, probably thinks it’s something else entirely. Younghyun doesn’t flinch away, either, when Jihoon nervously says, “Can I ask you another question?” 

“Ask away,” says Younghyun. “I’ve got nothing better to do.” 

What is Jihoon doing? He doesn’t know either, but it’s either this or fight off the urge to run through a pack of Marlboros. “How do you cope,” he starts slowly, “with… feelings?” 

A beat. Crap. Jihoon realizes he definitely could have phrased that better, because Younghyun is now looking at him with an expression of mild confusion. 

Jihoon backtracks. “You— we— go through a lot in this field of work. Like, a lot. And you— fuck, fine, I’m— grateful for it, really, I swear. But there’s just… so much other things, too, aside from the gratitude. How do you cope with those?”

Jihoon knows he probably looks and sounds like a trainwreck in his bid to be deliberately vague. By some miracle, Younghyun at least seems to understand what Jihoon is trying to say.

Younghyun’s lip quirks to one side as he thinks of his response. The silence stretches uncomfortably long, but then he gives an answer that’s the last thing Jihoon could have expected. 

“I write,” Younghyun says. 

Jihoon blinks once. Then twice. 

“You write,” he repeats, and the former nods. 

“It’s all in my discography. The anger, the heartbreak, the love.” Younghyun raises his shoulders in a shrug. “I’ve written nearly 200 songs, and all of them are just— that. Questions. Answers to questions. Feelings and stories.” 

It’s so simple, so obvious. It’s like a glaring traffic sign, like something that every musician should know and do.

Put it in a song. Perform it for thousands and leave the muse none the wiser. Profit. Lather, rinse, repeat. 

Jihoon had done it a fair amount of times, but never had he considered putting you to pen and paper. The prospect of it makes something in his chest thrum. 

“I—” He clears his throat. “I think I have to go, sunbaenim. It was nice seeing you.” 

A hint of humor glints in Younghyun’s eye, like he’s somewhat aware of the fact he’s witnessing something unravel. “‘Younghyun’ is fine,” he chirps. “And it was nice seeing you, too, Jihoon. Take care of yourself.” 

The words— take care of yourself— are supposed to be a platitude. To Jihoon, it feels like a tall ask. 

▸ I'M TOURING THE WORLD BUT I'M MISSING THE ONE WHO HELD IT DOWN.

Jihoon is exhausted. 

As much as he wants to say that he’s never been this tired in his life, it’d probably be a lie. He’d make the claim, hit the road, then end up crashing out saying the same damn thing. He’s seen this film before; he knows how it ends. 

He falls back on his hotel bed after his shower. A low groan escapes him, and he sends up a silent prayer to all the higher powers there are. Thank you for sheets with a 300-500 thread count. Thank you for air-conditioning. Thank you for warm showers and Listerine. 

Despite his fatigue, Jihoon can’t just go to sleep. Post-show adrenaline always took a couple of hours to wear off.

He briefly contemplates his options. Write a lyric or two? Watch a shitty Netflix movie? Stare out the hotel window until his eyes can’t stay open anymore? 

None of the above, it seems, as he reaches for his phone. 

Jihoon has never been active on SNS; he just couldn’t bring himself to care about things like TikTok trends or Twitter ‘beef’. It’s a constant thorn in his PR team’s side. There is one thing that he bothers to check, though, and God forbid he deny himself the simple pleasure of some good ol’ fashioned pining. 

He’s been on your Instagram page enough times that it’s the first thing that shows when he goes to the search bar. It’s the only thing that shows, really, which gives some pretty good sense of where his head is at. 

Your profile loads. There’s no new post, no recent story. Jihoon is both disappointed and relieved.

No news is good news, he thinks to himself as he leisurely scrolls through the photos he’s already seen a dozen times before. You, feeding sidewalk cats. You, sipping tea at a cafe. You, in all the places that were once Jihoon’s, too. The beaches, the hiking trails, the restaurant in your shared neighborhood. 

Jihoon opens that particular post. Even though he’s watched your life in squares for the better half of the past three years, this is the one photo that always has him feeling a pang of… something. 

Because Jihoon can imagine it— being at that restaurant with you. The two of you had discovered it together, had pooled your measly school allowances to afford the bokguk and ganjang gejang. 

He imagines being there with this older version of you, being the one snapping the picture that’d find a spot on your feed. He can see it so clearly in his mind’s eye that if he really, really tries, it begins to look more like a memory than a daydream.

But he’s not in Busan, not even in Korea. He’s in the United States instead, where he has ten stops before heading to Canada and Europe. 

Sold-out stadiums. Thousands upon thousands of adoring fans. 

All the food that he could possibly want, and yet it’s pufferfish soup and soy sauce crabs that he’s looking for. 

Every person that he could possibly have, and yet. And yet. 

Jihoon huffs out a frustrated exhale. He’s tired, which he swears makes him delusional. 

He casts his phone aside, blissfully ignorant to the way his finger double taps his screen as he does. 

Halfway across the world, your phone pings.

woozi_universefactory ✓ liked your post. 

▸ I'VE BEEN RUNNING BACKWARDS, RUNNING BACKWARDS LIKE A MARATHON.

The push notification glaring up at Jihoon looks a lot like a bomb that’s about to explode.

Jihoon feels like it’s a bomb, because he refuses to believe that after over a year of absolutely nothing, you’ve messaged first. You’ve messaged first. 

He double, triple checks his calendar. It’s neither of your birthdays. It’s not a holiday, either. Is it Chuseok? No— that doesn’t make sense. 

“For fuck’s sake,” he chides himself under his breath. It’s a text. Nothing more, nothing less.

Jihoon opens the notification. 

And then his heart just. 

Stops. 

You’d sent two messages— the first, being the post that had him spiraling last night. It’s the proceeding message that has Jihoon hoping the ground will swallow him whole. 

Stalking me, Jihoon-ah? 

Holy shit.

Jihoon types out at least three different messages, from Are you a fly on my wall to Is there a new Instagram feature I don’t know about to What happened to “hello, how are you”? 

In the end, he only sends back a single question mark. When he opens the offending post, he immediately sees his transgression. 

Jihoon hadn’t liked the photo before last night. He didn’t like much posts to begin with. How— When— 

His phone pings. He’s never been so thankful that he mostly opts to get room service for breakfast, because the squeak that he lets out is definitely not very rockstar-like. Jihoon fumbles, and he ends up opening your DM before he can psych himself up for it. 

LOL. Playing dumb doesn’t suit you, you say. 

Damn you and your ability to render him speechless. Jihoon wonders if he can get away with not responding, with getting back to you a couple of days later and blaming his work. 

Except. 

Jihoon’s fingers slowly move across his screen. 

It was a good post, he says. 

It was a post from a year ago, you answer. 

So? He throws in an emoji of a man shrugging for good measure. Jihoon never uses emojis, but he can make some exceptions. 

Your respond, So, stalking. You were stalking me. 

Jihoon knows he’s digging a hole for himself, knows he’s going to stay up several nights thinking of just how stupid he is. If he were a stronger man, he’d pull the plug on this conversation and that’d be it. You wouldn’t bug him. He would maybe write a song about this moment. The world would go on. 

But he can hear you. 

In the messages, in the words on his screen. He can hear your voice, the way you’d smile or laugh or tease. How you’d say his name in that sing-song tone he once pretended to hate. 

He hears you in your messages, and he’ll live with the secondhand shame if it means that he gets to keep on listening. 

Not stalking, he shoots back. Just checking in. 

Ah, you say. Because you missed me?~

Despite himself, he scoffs. You’ve always been so shameless. It didn’t matter to you that he was WOOZI the rockstar; to you, he would always be Jihoon who lived three houses down. 

As if, he says to your teasing.

You don’t respond anymore. You don’t even read the message, because Jihoon doesn’t see the little ‘Seen’ under his last message.

He waits for it for a minute. Then five minutes. Then seven minutes. He stops checking at the thirteen-minute mark, because he likes to believe he’s no longer a high schooler with a raging crush on the girl next door. 

He’s a grown man. He’s WOOZI, for Christ’s sake. 

He can’t keep coming back to you.

▸ I GAVE YOU MY TIME WHEN I DIDN'T HAVE MUCH; ALL OF MY FEELINGS, SWEPT UNDER THE RUG.

Except he does. 

WOOZI may not want to. WOOZI may be the bassist writing songs about the past in hopes of leaving things in the past, but Jihoon is a different story. 

Jihoon texts you the moment he lands in Gimhae International Airport. Jihoon stands outside your front door— definitely jetlagged, probably in need of a shower— with his luggage in one hand and his phone in the other. 

Jihoon acts like it’s the world’s biggest inconvenience when he tells you, “Come on, then.” 

The two of you get the crabs and soup. He refuses to talk about his time away; he contents himself with listening, like he always does, and you fill the silence with babble. Your desk job, your parents’ nagging, your hobbies and side hustles. 

“Probably not as interesting as your life,” you joke after a particularly long-winded anecdote about a delivery rider who got your address wrong. 

Jihoon neither confirms nor denies the statement. He only raises one eyebrow and gives you a wordless gesture with his hand. Go on anyway, he’s saying, and you take the cue. 

The meal ends. Jihoon invites you for coffee. Then ice cream. Then a walk. 

“This is very suspicious.” 

Jihoon can’t help it; a snort of laughter escapes him at your words. “Can’t a guy take a friend out to lunch?” he asks humorlessly. 

“And dinner,” you note. 

“And dinner, yes.” 

“And dessert.” 

“And dessert.” 

The two of you are taking the long way home. There’s something to be said about how Jihoon drags his feet, about how you walk like you’re not on borrowed time. Even your conversation moves like you’re beating around the bush.

There is an elephant in the room and Jihoon is done pretending that it’s not there. That it hasn’t been there since the day you two met in primary school, since the first time he held your hand as a teenager, since he became a musician and every song he performed became about you.

Jihoon doesn’t know how many years of pining he has left in him. 

“Are you dying?” 

Your blasé question draws a bark of laughter from him. “Jesus, no,” he says. “Do I have to be dying to want to see you?” 

You don’t answer right away. Jihoon once again has that feeling that he’s said something wrong, something loaded, but you save him from overthinking when you respond with, “You wanted to see me?” 

There it is. That teasing tone, that hint of a smile. 

You bump your shoulder against his. “You missed me, Jihoon-ah. Admit it.” 

And Jihoon is done, Jihoon is tired, Jihoon is still yours after all this time.

“I did,” he finally, finally says. “I missed you.” 

[im-gemmy]

★ . ꜝꜞ 🥐 how svt sleep with you (cuddle status)

seungcheol : ultimate big spoon. he holds you like a bear arms caging you all side keeping you warm and close all night. Will whine if you try escape. Warm breaths at the back of your neck, one arm pillowing your head, other a seatbelt around your waist.

Jeonghan : clingy koala. starts off acting like he doesn’t care how you sleep, but as soon as you get comfortable, he’s latching onto you like a koala. He either throws a leg over yours or tucks himself into your arms. Even if you push him away for space, he’ll just find a way to drape himself over you again.

Joshua : classic hug-cuddle. Face to face, holding you close hy tht waist, tucking your head on his warm chest. Generally the big spoon. Does corny ahh shit that gets you crazy like saying goodnight softly and kissing your forehead like just butterflies in stomach things. Always tucks you on all sides on the blanket.

Jun : LITTLE SPOON ™. needs to be babied. He's a baby. He needs to get tucked warmly his face in your cleavage warming up as you hold him close. Headpet is a must. Man will not sleep if you don't pet his head nicely and kiss him good night.

hoshi : somewhere between little spoon and big spoon. Anything that has him cuddled up. And by cuddle up I mean not a inch of skin to remain out of contact from you. Literally presses himself into you. Remember nana tour? Yeah that typa shit

Wonwoo : prefers light to no cuddle. isn’t the type to initiate cuddling, but he also doesn’t let go of you get comfortable. He prefers sleeping face-to-face, with your foreheads almost touching, or lying side by side with your hands intertwined. He doesn’t demand closeness, but if you move away, he unconsciously pulls you back.

Jihoon : prefers to sleep on his back with you on top of him. Will hold you loosely yet firmly however you turn and twist thru the night. His pecs = your pillow. On rare nights he's tired or work-frustrated he likes getting cuddled and babied, positions switched. He won't openly admit he's a cuddler but he also cannot sleep so well now if you're not cuddling him.

Seokmin : human heater LITERALLY. is warm physically and emotionally. He loves cuddling and doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around you. He enjoys spooning, but he also likes facing you, occasionally kissing your forehead or rubbing your back. He mumbles sweet things as he drifts off and gets adorably pouty if you try to move away.

Mingyu : this one is tricky. At the beginning of the relationship he pretends tu be the big spoon and holds you like that but as time passes and you two get more familiar he leans more to little spoon size. Just a big puppy that needs to be loved and taken care of. Gets so giddy whenever you little spoon him.

Minghao : not wholly a cuddler but prefers sleeping vaguely intertwined. Hand holding in sleep or just your legs intertwined or loosely drapes arm over each other. He often falls asleep with his head resting on your shoulder or his arm draped over your waist. If you’re having trouble sleeping, he’ll whisper soothing words until you relax.

Seungkwan : he acts like he’s fine sleeping separately, but in reality, he loves being cuddled. He enjoys resting his head on your chest while you play with his hair, or he’ll hold you tight, burying his face in your neck. If he’s feeling extra vulnerable, he’ll ask you to hold him, and he will get pouty if you try to roll away. Likes his tummy getting rubbed comfortingly to sleep.

Vernon : doesn't cuddle. Mutual agreement that you don't need to cuddle to sleep comfortably or peacefully and warmly. Tucks you in bkanket and often sleeps face to face but with a breathable comfortable distance without being too far. Holds your hands at times.

Dino : Dino loves cuddling. He gets genuinely excited about sleeping next to you and will pull you close like it’s the best thing in the world. He prefers spooning but is also happy with you lying on top of him. He giggles if you try to tickle him and sometimes whispers goofy things in your ear before dozing off.

[im-gemmy]

⋆☀︎｡☀︎⋆

random texts you get while dating jilix !!

a/n: need them.

[im-gemmy]

"perfect on camera !"

this is VERY self indulgent, i have a pear body type. Reader is implied to be female. reader is shorter than felix.

Thinking about gentle!pervy!felix recording you riding him<33

Honestly, you're not sure what's happening, all you know is you're on top of the man you love most- Lee Felix. You're already slick with need and only covered by your thin panties, you were grinding on him like a madman.

"Felix" You whine pathetically, he has been having you dry-humping him for what felt like hours.

"Shh.. I know, baby. You've been a good girl. I think you deserve a reward." You perk up the word reward, you were so happy! You raise your hips to slip off your panties.

"Good girl." Felix praises you softly, pulling down his boxers juuuust enough for his dick and balls to slip out comfortably. He holds it at the base, but then you see him reach out for his phone-!

"'Lix! What are you doing?" You question swiftly, he chuckles and shushes you gently, reassuring you it's for his eyes only. He holds himself at the base, before sliding in and hitting the record button.

"Fuckkkk, you're so tight-"

Felix takes his free hand and gently bounced you, before you catch on and began moving your hips. You were a moaning whiny mess!

He takes his hand and squeezes your chest, tweaking your nipples into stiff peaks.

This is gonna be a long night...

[im-gemmy]

CAN WE HAVE CHAN FOR THE TOYS SERIES NEXT PLEASE 🙏

(idk if you're taking ideas or not (ignore this if you're not) but chan and size training w a dildo?? like it's been in you all day by now, and at the end of the day he's just sat in between your legs pushing it in and out 😵‍💫)

i wasnt gonna take ideas but this is so hot. you win my heart

Toys with Bang Chan

wc» 1.2k

cw» fem!reader, sex toy usage, mentions of various sized dildos, size training, quite a lot of dirty talk, p in v, dp in one hole (with a dildo lol), he's a bit mean in the 2nd part hehe (im not sorry, argue with the wall), i think thats it

an» blame my imposter syndrome for this taking so long (along with the other like 4 drafts i have finished lol)

'Toys' Masterlist

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Channie size training you to take his big cock with alternating sized dildos…….. He’s just too big and he’s deathly afraid of actually hurting you and breaking you apart- no matter how pretty you look begging for him to just “give it to you.”

And then once you can finally take his cock all the way, he likes to push you a step forward and size train your cunt to dp with him AND a dildo… I’ll write a tiny blurb for both because OH my god

“Yeahhh, just like that, baby. See- you’re almost there.” His husky voice makes you keen and your legs shake in his hold. “Just a few more inches~”

He has you face down, ass up with one of his pretty hands digging into your thigh and holding you in place. There was enough lube on the dildo that you could feel it dripping down your thighs. It almost felt like too much, but each thick inch of the dildo that he shoved past your folds made the excess lube feel like barely enough.

“Chris…” Your cheek sinks further into the mattress and you can feel drool seeping pasting your lips onto the sheets. He coos and rubs his thumb on the underside of your asscheek. A mix of your last orgasms and the lube bunch up along your hole and he dips your finger in beside the toy, just to tease you a little further. And when you moan dazedly and push back against him, he knows you can take even more.

Chan pulls his finger out and simultaneously pushes his other wrist harder. “Chris- oh my god…” The dildo bottoms out and Chan lets out a laugh of disbelief when he sees the strings the sticky concoction leaves between the dildo and your cunt as he pulls it away. You hear his signature giggle as he runs his free hand over your ass, his other holding the dildo deep in place inside of you.

“How’s that feel? Nice and full?” Uh-huh… He giggles again and rises off his knees, moving to stand behind you so that his bulge pushes against the base of the dildo and holds it in place for him. The action makes you moan, then again when both his hands rub up your back soothingly. “You did so well, baby girl. I’m so proud of you- and this well behaved pussy.”

He grinds his hips again and the first few inches of the dildo shove right against your g-spot. The feeling makes you cum suddenly, legs shaking and fingers nearly tearing the sheets off the bed. Chan laughs into your shoulder and sneaks his hand around your front, softly rubbing circles into your clit to help ride it out. “That’s it, honey- Oooh it’s a big one, yeah? haha...”

~Now that you’re consistently stretched out and able to take the biggest of the dildos, Chan is adamant on you taking his cock everytime you two fuck. He’s spent so long patiently stretching your cunt and holding himself back for your sake. He doesn’t regret it in the slightest! However, he does think you owe him just a little bit… So he loves self indulging and really stretching you out.

“God. This fuckin’ pussy is gonna be the death of me.” His dull nails dig into your hips as he grabs onto you harder, pulling you into his thrusts so harshly that the only part of you touching the bed is your hands and your face- your back arched aggressively from how high he lifts your hips. He hasn’t even looked at your face since your last orgasm, he’s way too in it now to look away from your swollen cunt. “Need’a cum in this slutty hole.”

“It’s too much- fuck!” He frowns at your cries and pushes his hips impossibly harder, making each moan of yours cut of from how harshly he’s fucking into you at this point.

“Too much?” He scoffs and tangles a hand in your hair, pulling you up to meet his face. He’s just as surprised as you are that he’s angry about your comment, but he decides that a little bit of indulging won’t kill you- it might kill your pussy though… “Yeah- OK, honey. You want ‘too much,’ I’ll give you ‘too much’.”

The venom in his voice is enough to scare you straight, but it’s not until he shoves your upper back into the sheets and digs into your nightstand that the chills break out. You trust him with your life, and you can’t deny the ache in your stomach at the inkling of what he might want.

The best part is he doesn’t even have to put any lube; your cunt is leaking enough to flood the entire bedroom. You feel the all too familiar silicone of the dildo rubbing against your clit, teasing around it like he tended to before he started fucking you with it back when he was still size training you. But… I guess this still is technically size training.

Your jaw drops and your head pushes back against his hand when he slides the tip of the dildo inside of you alongside his cock. Of course he would choose the thickest of the set. The stretch is insane and nearly feels like it’s tearing you in half. Your head pushes against his hand again and he basically growls at you, voice dropping and other hand pushing you harder into the bed. “Stop. You know your safeword if you need it.”

Despite the attitude, he stops completely and sits still long enough for you to decide if you really can take it or not. And- ohh when you push your hips into him and whine out into the bed, he’s grinning from ear to ear. “That’s what I thought.” He pushes the dildo deeper, only choosing to give you less than half the length of it considering how thick he was on his own, let alone him AND the dildo together.

He knows you like the back of his hand, so the second you grow quiet and you clench around him constantly against your will, he knows you’re almost there. “Cum for me, baby. Give me it and I’ll fill you even more, yea?” He slowly starts fucking himself into you again, using every ounce of self control to hold himself back so he can simultaneously fuck the dildo in and out of you- at an even slower pace than his hips. Normally you would whine and cry about it, but he’s fucked you nice and stupid to the point where you can barely think outside of anything other than how stuffed to the brim you are.

Somehow, he’s the one who cums first. It’s a mixture of seeing you broken into a million pieces, all for him to happily put back together later, and feeling your death grip around him that really sends him over the edge. And he’s never one to leave you hanging. So the second he pulls out, he’s fucking the dildo into you so quickly that your orgasm blindsides you.

“Atta girl~ Good job, baby.” He tosses the dildo to the side and helps you flip onto your back. You feel him smile against your stomach as he kisses up and down your body. “...I wanna go again. Haha….”

Taglist: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @honeyybbuubblleess

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams @velvetmoonlght

@aeri-skzver

[im-gemmy]

I see your rattlesnake naga and raise you electric eel hybrid/merfolk! Electric play… use your imagination… 🎀

A/N: the rattlesnake naga the anon refers to is this one. (If that link doesn’t work try suscribing for free on Patreon and trying this one). Enjoy!

Electric eel-hybrid x fem!reader || electric play (?), tail play, oral sex

Electric eel boyfriend who is scared of telling you what he likes in the bed. But what he’s definitely not expecting is for you to be even kinkier than he is.

You’d been thinking about it for a long time, since you started dating, every time he sneezes or gets really worked up, you can see the sparks of electricity on his tail, and something inside of you is itching to try it… You never knew you’d be into electric play, but every time it happens, the urge inside of you grows and grows.

It takes a few tries to convince him to play with you, but the first contact of his electricity with your body is enough to send you spiraling into pleasure. It feels like tiny sparks against your skin, almost like a massage that leaves you pliant and ready to be fucked until you are dumb. And when he uses it over your nipples, it sends sparks of pain and pleasure mixed into the perfect amalgam of intensity. You get so wet you form a puddle under you.

He’s surer of himself after that, playing with his tail and his electricity over his body as he devours your pussy like a starving eel-hybrid.

And only gets better from there.

He uses it while doing normal things around the house, touching you lightly on the back of your thighs, pressing it against your ass cheek, or even being bold enough to touch his tail against your covered pussy while you are out and about. It’s the best thing that ever happened to you.

And when he finally uses it inside of you, your whole world is rocked. The whole universe moves when he pushes his tail inside your welcoming heat and starts sending little electric-shocks through it. It’s life altering, the way the electricity feels inside of you, almost like he’s fucking you without even moving… Your whole body feels like a live wire and he’s playing all your cords perfectly to get you into a state of desperation and need that has you shivering.

It only takes a few seconds for you to come, and he’s not even moving! And when he fucks you with intent, your brain short-circuits and you can only feel pleasure and electricity, your whole body attuned to his as he fucks you senseless, his dexterous fingers playing with your pussy until you are a mess of juices and orgasms.

Best. Boyfriend. Ever.

[im-gemmy]

Skinny Dipping | C. Hs

Genre: angst, fluff, exes au!

Summary: it'll be so nice if you and Hansol could have a little chat about both of your life, forgetting things that had hurted. Right?

Author note: i hurt myself mentally while writing this *cry cry*

Hansol is doing his routine check-up at the café he opened last month, the newest addition to his chain. He greets everyone at the counter with a friendly smile, his familiar energy filling the space before he heads toward the kitchen.

“What’s on the menu today? Salmon sandwich?” he asks the cook, his tone light and teasing. The cook hums in agreement, adding that it’s quickly becoming the café’s top seller.

Hansol grins—it’s someone’s favorite too, someone who used to occupy his thoughts more than he’d like to admit. He hasn’t thought about her in a while. Until now.

He approaches his barista, Seungkwan, who’s busy wiping down the counter. “How’s everything going?” Hansol asks casually.

Seungkwan lets out an exaggerated groan, wiping the sweat off his brow. “It’s been chaos since lunch. I swear, I’ve barely had a minute to sit down.”

Hansol chuckles, reaching for an apron. “Let me jump in and help.”

Seungkwan glances at him with a raised brow. “Finished all your other work already? You know, the important boss stuff?”

Hansol nods, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah, all done. That’s why I’m here—besides, I’ve got a meeting with a client at four, so I’ve got time.”

He moves behind the counter just as the system dings with a new order. Hansol instinctively grabs the ticket, scanning it. “Oat milk latte and salmon sandwich for...”

His voice falters, his heart stuttering when he reads the name on the receipt. He blinks, staring at it as if it’s mocking him. It’s a name he knows all too well, a name that sends a flood of memories rushing back to him all at once.

“For Y/N.”

His head snaps up, scanning the café as if to confirm it’s really happening. And there you are, sitting at a table near the window, looking up from your phone just as your name is called. Your eyes widen slightly when you see him, the same recognition flashing across your face.

It’s been years, but it feels like no time at all. The air between you shifts, suddenly charged with the weight of everything left unsaid. Hansol’s heart races as his thoughts spiral—out of all the cafés in the city, you’ve walked into his. Fate had a funny way of playing games, didn’t it?

You slowly stand, making your way to the counter, your expression a mix of surprise and hesitation. “Hi...” you greet softly, your voice like a distant echo of the past.

Hansol hadn’t expected you to speak first. He clears his throat, trying to play it cool despite the way his chest tightens. “Hey... nice to see you here,” he replies, though his voice betrays the whirlwind of emotions inside him. He forces a smile, but it’s impossible to ignore the awkwardness hovering between you.

“How have you been? Do you... work here?” you ask, your gaze flicking to the café, and then back to him.

Before you can reach for your order, Hansol swiftly pulls the tray toward him. “I’ll bring it to your table,” he says, perhaps a little too eagerly. “Please, sit.”

You blink, slightly taken aback by his insistence, but you offer a small nod before returning to your seat. Hansol busies himself with preparing your latte, though his hands feel unsteady, the sudden rush of old feelings catching him off guard. He carries the tray to your table and sets your order down carefully, just like he used to when you’d meet him after class back in college.

You mumble a quiet “thank you,” already refocusing on your laptop, just like the old days. The sight of you so focused and serene tugs at something deep within him.

“Working from here?” Hansol asks, lingering by your table, unable to walk away just yet.

You nod, glancing up. “Yeah, just finishing up some papers before class… at four.”

Hansol bites his lip, trying to find his footing in this strange but familiar reunion. “I’m doing great, by the way. You asked,” he says with a small smile, gesturing around the café. “Just opened this place last month.”

Your eyes wander around, taking in the cozy space, the warm light filtering through the windows. “It’s really nice,” you reply with a genuine smile, a hint of admiration in your voice. “Congratulations.”

Hansol feels his heart flutter at your smile—one he had missed more than he’d realized. You glance at the seat across from you and, after a beat, gesture to it. “Do you want to sit?”

He doesn’t hesitate for a second. “Yeah, sure,” he says, sliding into the chair across from you, trying to ignore the way his pulse quickens.

“How have you been? And Mingyu? Last I heard he moved…” Hansol’s voice trails off, leaving space for you to fill in the details.

You sigh, leaning back in your chair. “I’ve been good. Just busy with work and school. Mingyu? He’s married now, actually. Living in Hawaii with his family.”

Hansol’s eyes widen at the mention of your brother. He chuckles, shaking his head. “Married and in Hawaii... I always figured he’d end up somewhere sunny and laid back.”

You smile fondly at the memory of your brother. “Yeah, he’s always been like that.”

The conversation flows easily, as if the years hadn’t separated you at all. You talk about the little things—work, school, mutual friends—and for a brief moment, it’s like no time has passed. But there’s still something lingering between you, unspoken yet unmistakably present.

Just as you’re settling into the rhythm of catching up, Seungkwan calls out from behind the counter. “Boss… you’re needed!”

Hansol glances back, sighing softly. “Duty calls,” he mutters, standing from the table.

You gather your things as well, closing your laptop. “Yeah, I should get going too. I’ve got class soon.”

For a moment, there’s an awkward pause, like neither of you wants to let go of this unexpected reunion. Hansol hesitates, then glances back at you, a hint of vulnerability in his expression. “It was really nice meeting you again. We should do this again. On purpose, sometimes.”

You meet his gaze, and for the first time in years, there’s a spark—small but unmistakable. “Sure,” you reply softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

Hansol feels a surge of excitement rush through him, and he can’t help but smile back. With a quick goodbye, he heads back to the counter, his heart still pounding in his chest. But even as he walks away, there’s a warmth blooming inside him, a quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t the end of your story.

As he ties his apron back on, he can’t stop the grin spreading across his face. After all these years, fate had brought you back into his life. And Hansol couldn’t help but feel that this was only the beginning.

*

You stepped into the garage-turned-studio, the familiar hum of instruments that usually calmed you now replaced by an unnerving silence. The tension in the air was palpable. Hansol stood there, his bass hanging loosely from his hands, while Chan hovered near his drum kit, avoiding eye contact. The moment you walked in, all eyes shifted to you, and you immediately knew—you’d come at the worst possible time.

“Let’s call it a day,” Seungcheol, the band’s guitarist and leader, muttered under his breath. He put his guitar down gently, though the gesture felt heavy with finality. Without a word, the rest of the band followed suit, leaving the studio one by one. You watched as they filed out, and your stomach twisted when you realized you and Hansol were now alone.

You had come here to release some of your own stress—an exhausting day of exams had left you drained, and you had hoped Hansol might distract you. But as soon as you met his eyes, dark with frustration, you knew something was terribly wrong.

“Did you say something to Chan about me leaving the band?” Hansol asked, his voice low but sharp, every word cutting through the silence. His brow was furrowed, his eyes darting to you with a mix of disbelief and anger.

You froze, caught off guard by the accusation. “What? No, I didn’t—” you started, but then paused, a sinking feeling creeping into your chest as you remembered. “Wait, I... I did mention to Jinah that you might have to leave the music scene eventually... you know, because of the family business and all. But it wasn’t serious, Hansol. I didn’t think it would turn into... this.”

He let out a bitter laugh, his lips curling into something more pained than amused. “Well, it did. It’s not just some hobby, Y/N. Music is everything to me. It’s how I breathe, how I escape... And now they think I’m bailing. They’re replacing me.”

You blinked, trying to process his words. “Replacing you? Without even talking to you first?”

Hansol ripped the jack from his bass, the sound jarring in the tense space. He threw it to the ground, the clatter echoing through the empty studio. “Yeah, because they heard I was leaving—from a certain someone.”

His words felt like a slap, and you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “You’re blaming me?” Your voice shook, a mixture of hurt and disbelief bubbling up inside you. “All I did was make an offhand comment. You’re not actually leaving the band, Hansol. Just tell them that, and this will blow over.”

But Hansol’s eyes flashed with anger, and he stepped closer, his jaw clenched. “It’s not that simple. You don’t get it. They’ve already made up their minds. They’ve moved on. I’ve been replaced, and it’s because of you.”

Your heart sank as the weight of his words hit you. “Hansol, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I was just—”

“I don’t care what you meant,” he cut you off, his voice rising. “This is what you always do. You think you know what’s best for me, that you can speak for me, but you don’t know shit. You’ve never understood what music means to me. You only care about my studies, my future in the family business. That’s what matters to you, right?”

His words pierced through you, the sting of them so deep that you struggled to breathe. “That’s not fair,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I care about you. I’ve always supported you.”

Hansol laughed, but there was no joy in it—just bitterness. “Supported me? All you’ve ever done is try to push me into the future you want for me. You’ve never believed in my music. You’ve never believed in me.”

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “Hansol, that’s not true. I—”

“Spare me,” he snapped, his voice hard. “You don’t get it. They’ve already replaced me. I’m out. And it’s all because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Because you had to go running off to Jinah, acting like you know everything about me.”

Tears burned your eyes now, and this time you couldn’t stop them from falling. “Hansol, I didn’t mean to cause this,” you choked out, your voice trembling. “I just... I didn’t think it would get this far.”

“Well, it did,” he shot back, his eyes cold. “And now I’ve lost everything. The band was all I had, and now I’m nothing. Thanks to you.”

Your breath hitched, your hands trembling as you wiped at your eyes, but it was no use. His words cut too deep, tearing through everything you thought you understood about your relationship. “You’re really blaming me for all of this?” you asked, your voice shaking. “You think this is my fault?”

Hansol stepped closer, his face hard and unyielding. “Yeah, I do. Because you always think you can fix everything, like you’re in control. But you’re not. And now I’m paying the price.”

For a moment, you could only stare at him, the boy you once knew now feeling like a stranger. His words had shattered something inside you, and the pain was almost unbearable. “You don’t mean that,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

But Hansol just turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know what I mean anymore,” he muttered. “All I know is I’m done. Done with the band, done with everything...”

His voice trailed off, and you felt the last thread of hope between you unravel. You took a shaky breath, trying to hold yourself together, but it was no use. “Go fuck yourself, Hansol,” you whispered, your voice filled with all the hurt and anger you’d been holding back.

And then you turned and walked out of the studio, the door slamming shut behind you. But even as you left, the ache of his words stayed with you, cutting deeper than any argument you’d ever had. The boy who once felt like your world was now a stranger, and you weren’t sure if you could ever find your way back to him.

*

Hansol was doing his routine check-up at the café he had opened last month. He greeted everyone at the counter with his usual friendly smile before making his way to the kitchen.

“What’s on the menu today? Salmon sandwich?” he asked the cook. They hummed in agreement, mentioning that it was quickly becoming everyone’s favorite.

Hansol grinned—it had always been someone’s favorite too, someone he hadn’t thought about in a while.

He approached his barista, Seungkwan, and asked, “How are things going?”

“It’s been chaotic since lunch. I swear, I just want to sit down,” Seungkwan groaned dramatically, wiping his forehead.

Hansol chuckled, grabbing an extra apron. “I’ll jump in and help.”

“Finished all your work?” Seungkwan asked, referring to Hansol’s duties managing his chain of cafés. Opening one in such a busy area had been a smart move, and Hansol knew it.

“Yeah, all done. That’s why I’m here,” Hansol replied, glancing at his watch. “I’ve got a meeting with a client at four.”

Just then, an order popped up on the screen. Hansol moved behind the counter to take a look. “Oat milk latte and salmon sandwich for...” His voice trailed off, and his heart skipped a beat. He stared at the name on the receipt, feeling a rush of memories flooding back.

It was a familiar name. The perfect order.

“For Y/N.”

His gaze lifted from the screen to the café, and there you were, looking up from your phone toward the counter. Your eyes widened slightly in recognition, and Hansol’s mind raced—of all the cafés in this city, you had walked into his.

You stood from your table and slowly approached the counter, your expression a mix of surprise and hesitation. Hansol felt frozen, unsure of what to say or how to act. Years had passed, but in that moment, it felt like no time had gone by at all.

“Thanks,” you said softly, avoiding eye contact as you took your order from the counter.

Hansol’s chest tightened as he watched you walk back to your table, quickly gathering your things. You were already clearing your desk before he could muster the courage to say anything more. The moment had slipped through his fingers, just like that.

As you walked out of the café, Hansol’s heart sank. There had been so much left unsaid, so many things he wanted to ask, but now, all he could do was watch as the door closed behind you.

The weight of lost time and missed chances hung in the air, and as he stood behind the counter, Hansol couldn’t shake the feeling that this encounter had reopened old wounds—wounds he had thought had healed long ago. But seeing you again, even for just a fleeting moment, reminded him that some things could never be forgotten. Some people left marks too deep to erase.

We've been swimming on the edge of a cliff

I'm resistant, but going down with the ship

It'd be so nice, right? Right?

If we could take it all off and just exist

And skinny dip in water under the bridge

Skinny Dipping - Sabrina Carpenter

[im-gemmy]

Clean-out

Genre: very domestic fluff.

Pairing: Seungkwan x fem!reader.

Warnings: Reader is a bit insecure about her weight.

Yuin's note: January hasn't ended yet so I still have time to write something for his birthday.

“Kwannie,” you called him, your eyes fixed in the mirror in front of you, “do you think I should lose some weight?”

“Who told you that?” he said in a serious tone, putting down the book he was reading.

“No one, it’s just that” your thoughtful gaze remained fixed on your reflection, “it's been a while since the last time I wore this dress and... it was… Less tight?"

You had decided to do a closet clean-out after a long time because you knew there were pieces of clothing you no longer wore. While you were doing this task, Seungkwan was sitting in the same room trying to read a book he had just acquired, although his attention was more focused on the person in front of him, modeling outfits as if he were painted or simply not there at all. Not that it bothered him.

However, Seungkwan completely abandoned his reading when he heard certain question that he couldn’t just ignore. He stood up right behind you watching your reflection in the mirror, and had to take a deep breath as he detailed your figure, covered by a beautiful dress he didn’t remember seeing before.

“I don’t see the problem, you look great,” he said with a slight nervous gesture, crossing his arms.

“Do you think so?” you asked with some hesitation, “I think it's no longer my size… Should I donate it?”

“Oh, please! Just look at yourself,” Seungkwan took you by the shoulders and bought his face closer to yours, letting your checks touch each other, “If we weren’t together, and I saw you like this, I would ask you out. No doubts.”

You smiled shyly, trying to cover your face with your hand. “Is that your way of asking me out on a date?”

“But you have to wear this dress,” he demanded.

You remained thoughtful for a few seconds as if you were truly considering it. For Seungkwan, the wait felt like an eternity.

“Come on, say yes,” he pleaded, hugging you from behind and pressing your cheek against yours, “I’d do anything for such a gorgeous like you.”

You turned around, placing your arms over his shoulders and stared at his eyes. As fun as it was to tease him by denying his whims, there was something in his tender gaze that stopped you from keeping this torture game. You just couldn’t resist him.

“Alright,” and barely had you finished when he was already thanking you, “But! I also have to choose your outfit.”

“Outfit… Place… Time… Whatever you say,” he said as he let small kisses on your face in between words, making you laugh with each one.

 “It’s a deal. Now, can I finish my closet clean-out?”

Seungkwan let you continue as he returned to his spot and with the intention of resuming his reading, but he couldn’t follow the thread of where he was since he was still fascinated by the beauty you radiated.

“Hey, cutie,” he called, “do you need some help?”

He didn’t even wait for you to respond when he was already by your side, watching you model in front of the mirror with another outfit. Reading could wait a while.

[im-gemmy]

Hii new here and love your work already!

May I request Something about Junhui

Y/n being sick during her pregnancy (if you are comfortable) and Junhui brings her with them while they filmed “In the Soop” to keep an eye on her and unknowingly their relationship gets exposed once the episode air and she cries real bad and the group help him calm her down!

Unexpected Reveal | idol!Jun x Reader | angst, fluff

Filming In the Soop was supposed to be a peaceful getaway. A chance for the members to relax, reset, and spend quality time together away from the usual chaos of idol life.

But for Junhui, this trip had an entirely different purpose.

"You sure you’re okay with this, baobei?" (A/N: For everyone who don't know what baobei means, it means something like Darling) Jun asked softly, kneeling beside the couch where Y/N lay, bundled in a thick blanket. His hand brushed against her forehead, checking for any lingering fever. "We can still go back if it’s too much for you."

She shook her head, offering him a weak smile. "I’d rather be here with you than alone at home."

Y/N was in the early stages of her pregnancy, and it had been far from easy. Morning sickness hit her hard, exhaustion came in waves, and her body ached in ways she hadn’t expected. Jun had barely let her out of his sight, and when filming In the Soop came up, he insisted on bringing her along—secretly, of course.

The members had been incredibly supportive. Seungcheol and Jeonghan helped distract the cameras, Woozi pretended not to see Jun sneaking into Y/N’s room every night, and the younger ones took turns delivering food to her cabin so she wouldn’t have to move much.

It worked.

Or at least, they thought it did.

When the episode aired weeks later, the internet exploded.

Clips of Jun carefully adjusting a pillow in an empty room. A faint silhouette in the background of his personal vlog. The way he seemed distracted, always checking his phone.

And then, the biggest mistake of all—one of the GoPro cameras accidentally left on inside the cabin.

It wasn’t much, just a short clip of Junhui entering with a warm bowl of soup and a soft, “Baobei, you need to eat.” But it was enough.

The comments flooded in.

*Who’s in Jun’s room??? *Did he just say ‘baobei’?????? *Wait, is this why he kept disappearing during the show?! *Jun’s married?! JUN HAS A WHOLE WIFE????

The speculation spiraled out of control. Some fans celebrated, some felt betrayed, and some simply refused to believe it.

But the damage was done.

Y/N sat curled on their couch, knees pulled to her chest, as she scrolled through the endless posts. The anxiety swelled in her chest until it was unbearable, and before she could stop herself, she burst into tears.

"Y/N, hey—" Jun rushed to her side, alarmed. "Baobei, don’t cry. Please don’t cry."

“I ruined everything,” she sobbed, voice shaky. “Everyone’s talking about you. About us. What if—what if it affects your career? What if people hate you because of me?”

Jun’s heart clenched.

He gathered her into his arms, rubbing slow circles on her back as she cried into his chest. “Shh, that’s not true. You didn’t ruin anything, okay? If anything, this was my fault—I should’ve been more careful.”

The door suddenly burst open, and in came Seungcheol, followed closely by Jeonghan and Minghao.

“Is she okay?” Jeonghan asked, concern etched in his features.

“No,” Jun answered honestly, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Seungcheol crouched down in front of them, resting a gentle hand on Y/N’s knee. “Hey, don’t read the comments, okay? People will always have things to say, but they don’t know you. They don’t know how much Jun loves you, how much he’s willing to fight for you.”

Minghao sat beside her, his voice soft. “You’re not alone in this. We’re family. We’ll handle this together.”

Y/N sniffled, looking up at them. “But… what if they—”

“They won’t.” Jun cut her off firmly. “Even if they do, I don’t care. You and our baby matter more to me than any of this.”

She let out a small, choked laugh. “That was really cheesy.”

Jeonghan smirked. “He’s been watching too many dramas again.”

Laughter rippled through the room, lightening the heavy atmosphere.

Jun wiped her tears, cradling her face in his hands. “We’ll be okay, baobei. I promise.”

And looking at the warmth surrounding her, the love in Jun’s eyes, and the unwavering support of their family, Y/N finally let herself believe it.

[im-gemmy]

notes app — bangchan

— texts with your ex, bangchan, who up until now you had used as a handy notes app until he unblocked you.

☼☽⋆｡°✧ ✧⋆°｡☾☼

[im-gemmy]

counterpoint chemistry...

...the one where you and chan turn a debate into a flirting match

you’re in the middle of a very serious academic debate.

or at least, it was serious before bang chan decided to turn it into his own personal rom-com.

"automation is creating a dangerous overreliance on technology," you argue, voice steady, eyes locked on your actual opponent and not on the annoyingly attractive man smirking at you from across the room. "people are losing problem-solving skills, critical thinking, basic human interaction-"

"basic human interaction?" chan interrupts, tilting his head. "you and i seem to be interacting just fine."

your jaw tightens. "academically, bahng. stay on topic."

"i am on topic," he counters, leaning slightly on his podium. "your whole argument is about losing human connection, but here we are, connecting. seems a little counterintuitive, don’t you think?"

his teammates snicker. your teammate visibly facepalms. the moderator sighs deeply, as if regretting every decision that led to this moment.

you take a steady breath. "you're missing the point. this isn't what the motion is about."

"or maybe," he says, tapping his fingers, long and slender and adorning a simple bracelet, against the podium, "you just don’t like that i have a point."

your eyes narrow. "oh, please. the only point you have is the one you’re trying to make about yourself."

he grins. "if you think i’m that self-absorbed, why do you pay so much attention to me?"

"i don’t."

"really?" he raises a brow. "because every time i talk, your eyes go straight to me."

"that’s called participating in a debate, bang. gets me the point you lose every time you're being stupid."

"that’s called being interested," he fires back.

you clench your jaw. "in proving you wrong."

he chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. "you’re fun when you’re all riled up."

"and you’re turning this debate far too personal," you mutter, flipping through your notes. "if i wanted to waste my time, i’d debate a brick wall."

"but a brick wall wouldn’t flirt back," he quips, eyes twinkling.

"oh, so you admit this is flirting?" you shoot back, raising a brow, a slight smirk adorning your lips. you got him.

his grin falters for a second, no, half a second too long. "wait. no, that’s not-"

"moderator," you say smoothly, turning away from him, "i'd like to formally request that my opponent get deducted points for flirting instead of debating."

the moderator looks exhausted. "if i start deducting points for flirting, we'll be here all night."

"can we please be here all night," chan mutters under his breath.

you turn to glare at him. "i heard that."

he smirks, completely unapologetic. "good."

your teammate groans. "can we please just finish this debate before one of you confesses?"

"i'm waiting on them," chan says, nudging his chin toward you.

"in your bloody dreams," you fire back.

his smirk softens, just slightly, in a way that makes your heart stumble over itself.

"you have no idea."