#also if i'm starting to repeat myself on these

[dawngyu]

i saw this right as i was getting ready for work and guess what… i rushed through everything like a maniac just so i could get my hands on it asap… asjdhjasdhh her i am pls (ps: i still have the playlist based on the songs you listed down ahhhhh i love them)

spoilers under the cut

Jungwon was half-distracted, mind somewhere else entirely, when the girl he barely remembered the name of tugged at his collar, lips finding the side of his neck. Her fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt, nails scraping lightly across his skin.

DIVORCE

Hell, he didn’t even plan on seeing her again. Jungwon didn’t do repeats.

WOW i know you warned us but </3 he's such a fboy ajsdjad

He should have walked away right then.

MENNNNNNN

okay??? i didn’t realize??? we’re starting out in his perspective??? ahhhh this couldn’t be more perfect adhsdhgds and how do you keep surprising me with your writing??? dear lord

“She’s pretty," she said, voice light, teasing. "Is that her?"

YES I AM MISS MAAM

She tilted her head, smiling like she knew something he didn’t. “The girl who rejected you during freshmen year. Jake told me.”

WAIT WHAT IS THIS LORE?

ughhh the way you write is so effortless and immersive, i love it so much. it genuinely feels like it’s all happening around me adsjakd i need to shut up before i fully embarrass myself with how much i adore you and your writing

Because for the first time in a long time, something actually fucking mattered. And he might have just ruined it before it even had the chance to start.

sir… u have a LOT of explaining to do.

wait this is so cute—the gummies??? looking back at the first part, it means so much more now. omg?? omg?? that tiny detail seriously squeezed my heart. alsooo, the banter?? chef’s kiss. reader is written so well, she’s such a girlboss and i love her sm.

Tuning out the rest of the world, unconsciously drawn to the sound of your laugh, the flash of your bag stuffed with books and candy, the easy way you moved through life like you weren’t trying to impress anyone.

this just melted my heart

Jake was courting you.

DAMN???????

jungwon is deep fr. like… he actually joined the club because of her?? adshahdgd this is showing such a different side of him compared to the first part and i’m obsesseddd. i love it so much.

"Yeah," another club member chimed in, dramatic as ever. "She said she's not ready for dating. Wants to focus on her studies first, plus she was thinking of running for the student council next year."

GIRL I LOVE HER SHE'S A CAREER WOMAN THEN

You looked relieved. Jake looked baffled.

Jungwon felt like something inside him cracked quietly open.

Raya feels her insides being twisted.

The morning Jungwon turned eighteen, the world stayed silent—for a moment.

THIS IS IT. THIS IS IT. SHURI HOLD MY HAND PLEASE.

And then bleeding in like a crack through the wall he heard it.

HE HEARD IT?

Blessing Activated: The ability to hear the thoughts of those you are conversing with.

OMG AHHHHH

And Jungwon had spent his whole life surrounded by that kind of duplicity. Family members who said "I'm proud of you" but thought "You better not ruin our name." Cousins who laughed over family dinners but secretly wished for each other's failures. An uncle who clapped him on the back and said "You’re lucky" while thinking "It should have been my son instead."

how heavy that must feel… sure, there are pros to being able to read someone’s mind—but as you wrote, the weight of it can be so isolating too. how do you even begin to tell someone, “hey, i know you were thinking the exact opposite”? asdhgdh it’s so complex. so messy. it’s a gift, but also a burden (in a way)

"Just get through this. Don’t let him see you melt like some idiot."

THE BUTTERFLIES I HAVE RN FOR THE MC'S THOUGHTS GOSH I'M HAVING SECOND HAND EMBARASSMENT

“He’s not going to be your husband. No way. Watch me prove fate wrong.”

I SQUEALED. ASDUUDISG SHIT AUSDHA HOW ARE U DOING THIS?

He didn’t even realize he was grinning like an idiot until his reflection caught in the dark window. Quickly, he sobered, scolding himself but it was useless. That voice—your voice—echoed in his head with too much heat.

THIS IS CUTE AND I LOVE HIM SORRY FOR EVEN THINKING ABT DIVORCING U ASDDHIGSD

It might’ve been his favorite birthday yet. Because for the first time in a long time, he dreamed not of pressure, pleasure, or perfection, but of you.

And when morning came, groggy and golden through his window, the first thing that surfaced in his mind wasn’t the dread of responsibility.

It was you.

PEAK ROMANCE. i want these words tattooed on my body right now.

ahhhhh this got me so excited all over again—no, doubly excited. the way you reworked those scenes from his pov?? i seriously can’t get over how much i love your writing. my heart was racing the entire time. you did it again, my shuri. i cannot wait for the next part.

also this is me everytime i see you on my feed. i love u so bad ><

EIGHTEEN - YANG JUNGWON (PART II)

pairing: fboy!jungwon x reader summary: where on your 18th birthday, you receive a blessing that lets you see the future, only to find yourself married to jungwon, the college heartthrob you’ve barely spoken to, with a child calling you mom. genre: university / college au, soulmate au, fantasy, fluff, slight angst, love triangle, pining, slow burn word count: 4.8k playlist: 18 - one direction, stuck with u - ariana grande & justin bieber, you belong with me - ts, lavender haze - ts, wish that i could - umi, meddle about - chase atlantic A/N: forgive me if this part's a bit short. i promise to make it up to you in the next ones, hehe

masterlist.

This is a work of fiction. It does not represent real people, events, or systems. Any similarities are purely coincidental, and all elements are created for fantasy purposes only.

The drama club’s room smelled faintly of old velvet curtains and cheap perfume.

Jungwon was half-distracted, mind somewhere else entirely, when the girl he barely remembered the name of tugged at his collar, lips finding the side of his neck. Her fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt, nails scraping lightly across his skin.

He let her.

Only because he wanted to get this over with.

The only reason he even agreed to meet her again today was to retrieve his wallet. The one he stupidly left at her dorm last night. He didn’t even plan on staying longer than necessary. Hell, he didn’t even plan on seeing her again. Jungwon didn’t do repeats.

But when she leaned in too close, smirking against his ear and said, "At least let me give you an advanced birthday treat, babe," he froze.

He should have walked away right then.

Instead, when she kept pushing, fingers pulling at his belt loops, mouth chasing his, he kissed her. Hard. Too hard.

Just to shut her up.

A mistake.

A fucking mistake.

Because that’s when the door creaked open.

And everything inside him seized up.

Through the tangled mess of limbs and desperation, his eyes locked onto a figure standing stiff at the door.

You.

Wide-eyed. Frozen. Like you’d just witnessed a car crash you couldn’t look away from.

Fuck.

He pulled back like he’d been electrocuted, his breath catching sharp in his throat.

“Y/N?” he blurted, voice rough and broken.

You didn’t say anything.

Didn’t move.

Just turned too fast and disappeared down the hallway, footsteps fading like a nightmare.

The girl beside him clicked her tongue, smoothing down her skirt, unfazed. She leaned against the desk casually, fixing her lipstick in the reflection of a trophy case.

“She’s pretty," she said, voice light, teasing. "Is that her?"

Jungwon stared at her, still breathing hard. “What?”

She tilted her head, smiling like she knew something he didn’t. “The girl who rejected you during freshmen year. Jake told me.”

His fists clenched at his sides. He stared at her, a million unsaid things clawing up his throat.

“I wasn’t rejected,” Jungwon snapped, sharper than he meant to. “And Jake doesn’t have the right to say shit. He’s in the same fucking position.”

The girl only chuckled, slipping her phone back into her bag like she hadn’t just dropped a nuclear bomb and walked away.

Jungwon stood there for a long moment, the stale, suffocating air pressing down on him.

He had come here for a wallet.

He had stayed because he was stupid.

He kissed a girl he didn’t even like because he thought it didn’t matter.

But it mattered.

Because for the first time in a long time, something actually fucking mattered.

And he might have just ruined it before it even had the chance to start.

It started small.

The kind of thing you wouldn’t even notice unless you were paying attention.

There was a vending machine tucked beside the science hall. Old, humming, half-forgotten. Students barely used it unless they were desperate between classes. But Jungwon did. And he always bought the same thing: the yellow-pack gummy bears.

Soft, sweet, just the right chew.

Something about them tasted like how he imagined being a kid felt simple and untouched.

Except, lately, they were always gone.

He’d walk up between lectures, coins ready, tap the scratched glass — and nothing.

Every other snack untouched.

Every other candy still neatly stacked.

Just the yellow gummies, empty.

It pissed him off a little.

He even once smacked the side of the machine in frustration, earning a few weird glances from passing students. He ignored them, he had bigger problems.

One day, he was earlier than usual. The hallways were half-empty, the vending machine still blinking lazily in the corner. And there you were.

Crouched low, head tilted, tapping the glass thoughtfully like you were deep in negotiation with the machine. In your hand? Two packs of the yellow gummies.

And in your bag? He caught the flash of even more, at least three, four crammed into the front pocket like a guilty secret.

You turned, mid-stuffing the last pack into your bag. Eyes meeting. Both of you frozen.

He recognized you vaguely. Freshman orientation, Jake's friend, the girl who laughed at his jokes but never stuck around for long.

And now? Now you were the damn vending machine thief.

You blinked, the barest flicker of surprise crossing your face before you straightened up calmly, like you weren’t doing anything remotely suspicious. You were.

Jungwon crossed his arms, smirking before he could stop himself.

"Leave some for the rest of us, maybe?"

You shrugged, not even guilty. "Survival of the fittest."

He huffed out a laugh. "You're hoarding them."

"They're the best ones," you said simply, like it was obvious. "Supply and demand."

He shook his head, smiling despite himself. You were something else.

"I’ve been trying to buy those for a week," he said, mock offended.

"You should be faster," you replied, voice light, teasing, as you zipped your bag shut and slung it over your shoulder.

Before he could think of anything clever to say, you tossed one of the packs toward him. He caught it, stunned.

"Here," you said.

A peace offering.

Or maybe just a dare to keep up.

Then you walked away, steps light, disappearing down the hallway before he could ask your name.

He stood there for a second, the vending machine humming behind him, the yellow pack crinkling in his hand.

Slowly, he smiled.

He didn’t know much about you yet. Only that you liked the same gummy bears. And that you didn’t apologize for it.

But that tiny, stupid moment? It stuck. Burrowed somewhere he couldn't dig out later, no matter how many months passed.

And later, when people joked about how he must’ve had dozens of girls chasing after him, he just thought about you, walking away without a second glance, leaving him standing there like some idiot holding candy.

After that day at the vending machine, Jungwon started noticing you everywhere. At first, he told himself it was coincidence. The campus wasn’t that big. Maybe your paths just happened to cross. Maybe you just happened to sit two rows ahead of him in economics. Maybe you just happened to linger outside the drama clubroom, laughing too brightly with Sunoo.

But deep down, he knew the truth.

He was looking for you now.

Tuning out the rest of the world, unconsciously drawn to the sound of your laugh, the flash of your bag stuffed with books and candy, the easy way you moved through life like you weren’t trying to impress anyone.

And you never noticed him.

Not really.

You barely even glanced his way.

He almost gave up then, almost let himself believe it was just a vending machine moment, a glitch in the universe that wasn’t meant to last.

Until rumors started.

Jake was courting you.

Jake, the golden boy with the easy smiles and a trail of admirers.

Jake, who was somehow close to you already.

Jake, who could make anyone fall for him if he really wanted to.

Jungwon told himself it didn’t matter. He lied.

It hurt.

More than it should have.

A stupid, sour sting every time he saw Jake walking next to you, tossing you candies or making you laugh in that easy, infuriating way of his.

So Jungwon, idiot that he was, joined the drama club. “I need the extracurricular points," he told everyone. Nobody believed him.

Mostly, he stuck to backstage work, fixing broken chairs, painting sets, running errands Sunoo barked at him with terrifying efficiency.

You were always around, helping, organizing, laughing. Sometimes you sat cross-legged on the stage sorting costume jewelry into plastic bins. Sometimes you passed him a bottle of water without looking. He said thank you quietly every time and you never noticed.

But he stayed anyway.

Because being near you, even if you didn’t see him, felt better than nothing at all.

Then one afternoon, everything shifted again.

He was fixing a crooked light rig when Sunoo’s voice rang out through the dusty club office.

"Y/N turned Jake down yesterday." Loud. Blunt. No room for misunderstanding.

The room went quiet. Someone gasped. Someone else whistled low.

Jungwon tightened his grip on the wrench. Heart slamming. Mind racing.

You turned Jake down?

"Yeah," another club member chimed in, dramatic as ever. "She said she's not ready for dating. Wants to focus on her studies first, plus she was thinking of running for the student council next year."

Sunoo laughed. "Classic Y/N. Always has her priorities straight."

Jungwon barely heard the rest.

All he could think was—

Maybe.

Maybe there was a chance.

Maybe he wasn’t as invisible as he thought.

He spent the whole night drafting letters he’d never send. Debating if he should say anything at all.

In the end, he didn’t write a love confession. He didn’t pour his heart out. He just kept it simple.

A bag of yellow gummy bears. And a note taped on it.

"I know this might not be the right time to give you something like this.

But I just wanted you to know,  you're interesting in every possible way.

You're the kind of person someone could admire quietly for a long time, even if the tides never turn in their favor.

I hope you keep smiling the way you do when you win arguments.

I hope you keep picking the yellow gummy bears, even if you have to fight for the last one.

No pressure.

No expectations.

Just... you deserve to know."

He left it in your locker early the next morning. Heart hammering. Hands shaking.

He thought maybe you’d know. Maybe the gummy bears would tip you off. Maybe you’d remember the stupid vending machine moment that never really left his mind.

Instead—

At lunch, he saw you. Marching across the courtyard. The bag of gummy bears clutched in your hand. Heading straight for Jake.

From where Jungwon sat on the stone steps by the library, he saw it unfold like a bad dream:

You smiling politely.

Talking softly.

Handing Jake the gummy bears back like they were some kind of apology.

And Jake—Jake just blinked, clearly confused, before awkwardly nodding and taking the bag.

You looked relieved.

Jake looked baffled.

Jungwon felt like something inside him cracked quietly open.

You thought Jake sent the gift.

You thought Jake wrote the letter.

And you turned it down.

Kindly. Gently.

And you never even knew it was him.

Later, Jake found him by the vending machines, tossing the crumpled bag onto Jungwon's lap.

"You’re a dumbass," Jake said, not unkindly.

"You should've put your name on it."

Then he left, leaving Jungwon alone with a silent, half-empty machine and a gummy bear pack that tasted a lot more bitter than sweet now.

Jungwon never said anything about it.

He just swallowed the rejection he was never even given the chance to earn.

And maybe that’s why now, standing years later in a messy drama room, when that girl tilted her head and said with a teasing smile—

"The girl who rejected you during freshmen year. Jake told me."

Because truth was… you never even knew it was him.

You never even saw him.

Not then.

Not yet.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Jungwon didn’t stop walking.

Down the hallway, past the bulletin boards, past the same scratched lockers he could’ve walked through blindfolded.

His fists curled tighter with every step.

Breath shallow. Mind buzzing.

He pushed outside, the night air slapping cold against his face. But the sick feeling in his gut didn’t go away.

He barely made it two steps across the courtyard when—

"Jungwon!"

He turned, shoulders stiff.

It was Sunoo, jogging up, frowning. "Dude, what happened? Why is Y/N storming out like she’s about to sue the entire drama club?"

Jungwon opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Rubbed a hand down his face.

"I messed up," he muttered finally, voice hoarse. "I didn’t mean for her to see... that."

Sunoo stared at him, mouth twitching like he wanted to ask a dozen questions but knew better.

Jungwon dug into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out the bright yellow pack, the gummy bears he'd bought earlier, before everything went to shit. Before he'd ruined it.

And then it hit him.

Today was your birthday.

You were supposed to have a good day.

You were supposed to laugh and smile and maybe — maybe — open your locker to find a stupid, cheesy pack of candy from someone who actually thought about you.

Instead, you found him like that.

Instead, he made you leave like your heart was breaking in real time.

A fresh wave of guilt slammed into him, sharp enough to make his stomach turn.

He shoved the pack into Sunoo’s hands, almost too rough.

"Give this to her," Jungwon said, jaw tight. "Tomorrow. Please."

Sunoo blinked down at it. "Uh. Okay? What is this, a bribe?"

Jungwon gave a humorless huff of air.

"Just... tell her I’m sorry. Tell her it’s from me."

Sunoo tucked the candy into his tote bag, still looking like he wanted to say more.

"I have to check our biochem lab results tomorrow," Jungwon added, half an excuse, half the truth. "I won’t see her before lunch."

Sunoo nodded slowly.

"You sure you don’t wanna just give it to her yourself?"

Jungwon shrugged helplessly.

"I don’t think she wants to see me right now."

A beat of silence.

The wind picked up, rattling the bare branches overhead.

Sunoo sighed, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Alright. I’ll make sure she gets it."

He started to turn away, then paused, glancing back with a small, lopsided smile.

"Oh—and, uh, advance happy birthday, Jungwon."

Jungwon managed the barest curve of a smile.

"Thanks."

And then he turned, hoodie pulled up against the cold, and disappeared into the night.

The morning Jungwon turned eighteen, the world stayed silent—for a moment.

The sun rose like it always did, pale and slow against the cracked skyline.

His apartment was still the same too: neat, spare, clean to the point of looking unlived-in. A couch, a low coffee table, a desk piled with textbooks he didn’t really touch anymore.

Nothing screamed special day.

Nothing at all.

He sat up on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the muted light seeping through his curtains.

In families like his, birthdays — eighteenth birthdays — were monumental.

Because here, you only got your blessing once.

It came exactly on your eighteenth birthday, and it never changed after that.

It was supposed to be a celebration. A doorway into the life you were meant to live. But in Jungwon’s family, it wasn’t magic. It wasn’t wonder.

It was a contract.

A cousin who awakened the ability to manipulate probability was immediately signed into risk management for the family's overseas holdings flown out within two weeks. An older sister who could predict crucial decisions before they happened became the sharpest negotiator in corporate mergers. An aunt who could sway opinions through subtle energy became a political lobbyist, shuffled from one continent to another, her life signed away to strategies and campaign wars.

The blessings were always bent, reshaped, weaponized.

Once your blessing appeared, you were sealed into it. Expected to serve it. Or get discarded quietly, like those who didn't "align" well enough.

Jungwon learned early not to hope. Hope made you vulnerable. Hope got you chained.

His phone buzzed on the bedside table.

🎉 Happy 18th Birthday, Jungwon 🎉

It's time to check your Blessing 💫

He stared at the screen but didn’t move.

Because once you checked it, there was no going back. Once the world saw what you were it would decide who you were.

The phone buzzed again.

A text from his mother.

[Mom]

Happy Birthday, my love. Remember, make today count. Everyone’s watching and waiting. We love you.

And then bleeding in like a crack through the wall  he heard it.

He can’t afford to screw this up. We’ve invested too much already. If it’s not useful, we’ll need to reassess him for overseas placements.

Jungwon stiffened.

It wasn’t a message.

It wasn’t in the text.

It was her thoughts.

He wasn’t reading her words, he was hearing the parts she didn’t say.

He sat there, frozen, as realization sank in.

With a slow, almost reluctant movement, Jungwon finally tapped the blinking notification on his phone.

The screen flashed once, then displayed in clean, gold lettering:

Blessing Activated: The ability to hear the thoughts of those you are conversing with.

And if he could hear it through this simple text conversation...

What would happen when he spoke to people in real life?

A sour, heavy feeling settled into his chest.

This blessing wasn't something he could turn on and off.

It wasn’t something he asked for.

And it sure as hell wasn’t going to make his life easier.

He pushed himself to stand, grabbing his jacket in a stiff, mechanical motion. Then powered off his phone.

When he left the apartment, the air outside was cold against his skin.

As he made his way down the street, he avoided conversation like it was poison. He ignored the greetings of the security guard in his building. He nodded mutely to the woman who sold coffee on the corner without saying a word.

Because he knew what it meant now. Because he knew the moment he exchanged words, he would hear the real thing hiding underneath. Not their smiles. Not their words. The truth they kept locked away.

And Jungwon had spent his whole life surrounded by that kind of duplicity. Family members who said "I'm proud of you" but thought "You better not ruin our name." Cousins who laughed over family dinners but secretly wished for each other's failures. An uncle who clapped him on the back and said "You’re lucky" while thinking "It should have been my son instead."

He grew up seeing it already. The way blessings, were twisted into weapons, into currency, into burdens too heavy to carry.

And now?

Now he would never be able to unhear any of it, would he?

By the time he reached the university, his head was already aching.

He remembered, vaguely, how Sunoo had clapped him on the shoulder yesterday, laughing, "Advance happy birthday, Jungwon!" before running off to one of his club meetings.

How easy it had been to smile back then.

He wished he could freeze himself in that moment before the world tilted sideways.

Now, everything felt heavier.

He was grateful for the excuse to be alone today. Hidden away in the lab under the pretense of gathering data for his project. The thick walls, the stale scent of old paper and chemicals, the silent machines, it was a kind of peace he didn’t realize he needed so badly.

Here, there were no conversations.

No words exchanged.

No truths bleeding through.

Just silence.

Finally.

Jungwon leaned back in his chair, staring up at the cracked ceiling tiles.

Was this what blessings were supposed to feel like? Or was this just another leash, dressed up like a gift?

He closed his eyes and exhaled quietly.

Happy birthday.

What a joke.

Jungwon stayed frozen by the wall, watching you cross the quad like you were some mirage that might dissolve if he blinked too hard. The lab data crinkled faintly in his fingers, forgotten. His brain, usually so sharp, so careful, now felt like someone had jammed it into slow motion.

Because you were here.

Because you had actually replied.

And he had heard it—your thoughts, clear as day, slicing through the usual static of the world.

Sorry I just saw this. Where are you now?

He’d read the text with a stone face. And underneath it, he heard it—the rush of your guilt, the tiny pang of something warmer, something unbearably human.

Not calculation. Not politics. Not some angle to manipulate him, like everyone else he grew up around.

You.

Just you.

The moment your gaze locked with his across the quad, something in his chest tightened painfully. He stuffed his phone into his pocket, stood straighter, forced himself to smirk internally even though his throat felt dry.

"Hey. President," he called, casual, careful.

Because he remembered the look in your eyes that day outside the drama room—how you flinched when he tried to apologize, how you wouldn’t even look at him.

The last time he said your name out loud, you flinched like he was something rotten.

So now it was just "President." A shield between you and him.

You approached, steady, distant. Your voice clipped when you asked about the lab data. Jungwon handed it over, his fingers brushing yours—and he felt it, again, like a ripple of static under his skin.

Your thoughts cracked into him like sunlight through a stained glass window.

"His hand’s warm."

"Focus, Y/N. You’re being ridiculous."

"Just get through this. Don’t let him see you melt like some idiot."

Jungwon almost dropped the papers.

He bit the inside of his cheek instead, forcing himself to stay calm, to stay cool. Because if he lost it now—if he said anything wrong—you might shut him out completely.

You thanked him in that same clipped voice, turned to leave.

And then he heard it.

"God, why does he have to look at me like that? I hate feeling like this"

"Ugh, why he out of all people? Everything was fine until what I saw last night.”

“Just forget it, Y/N. Forget that stupid future your blessing showed you. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“He’s not going to be your husband. No way. Watch me prove fate wrong.”

Jungwon's world tilted.

Husband? Your husband?

His instincts scrambled for something, anything, to tether him back to earth, to slow the pounding in his chest. The words just slipped out, raw and unsteady, the first thing his brain could grab onto.

“…You saw the file?”

You paused. Nodded. Muttered, “It’s good.”

Then you walked away.

Jungwon stood there, rooted to the spot, heart hammering against his ribs so loud he thought someone might hear it.

Because for the first time since he woke up this morning, with the whole damn world feeling like it was pried open, every thought bleeding through the noise, didn’t feel suffocating.

That night, Jungwon’s dorm was too quiet, but his mind is completely the opposite.

Jungwon sat hunched on the edge of his bed, hoodie sleeves half-pulled over his knuckles, phone glowing dim in his hand. He’d read your message probably a hundred times.

"Sorry I just saw this. Where are you now?"

So casual. So harmless. But the memory of your voice, your clipped tone from earlier, the way your eyes didn’t quite meet his. All of it kept repeating in his head like a glitch in a dream he couldn’t wake up from.

And worse than the silence was the part he couldn’t shake.

Husband.

The word had lodged somewhere in his chest and refused to leave.

He didn’t even realize he was grinning like an idiot until his reflection caught in the dark window. Quickly, he sobered, scolding himself but it was useless. That voice—your voice—echoed in his head with too much heat.

She saw a future where I was her husband.

She thought about me. Dreamed about me.

She didn’t just push me away for no reason.

His thumb hovered over your contact.

He wasn’t supposed to use his blessing like this. He knew it. It was too intimate. Too invasive. But tonight, he needed to understand. Because your voice inside his head didn’t sound like hate. It sounded like fear. And want.

He opened the chat.

[9:47 PM]

hey.

it’s jungwon.

He hit send, then hesitated.

Don’t text her this late, idiot. You’ll just look desperate.

But what if she thinks you don’t care?

He sent another.

thanks for checking the file.

Still nothing.

He tapped his leg nervously, eyes locked on the screen. His thoughts were a mess with half apologies and half what-ifs.

are you still mad about yesterday.

it’s fine if you are. just wanted to say i wasn’t trying to... make you uncomfortable or anything.

didn’t know you’d walk in.

The reply came fast. Faster than he expected.

[Y/N]

Don’t flatter yourself. You didn’t make me uncomfortable.

I’ve seen worse.

But your thoughts betrayed you, spilling into him like sparks on skin.

Liar. I felt like my lungs collapsed when I saw him.

Because seeing him with someone else felt like a punch in the gut. Because it confirmed he’d never be mine. Even if the blessing said otherwise.

Jungwon’s heart thudded, warm and dizzy. You wanted him. Maybe not openly, maybe not consciously, but it was there. Real and raw.

His ears burned. He grinned against his knuckles.

He typed again.

you sure? you looked like you saw a ghost.

Because I did, okay? You were the ghost of that stupid dream. That version of you who held my hand and whispered all those sweet things.

And then I saw you tangled up with someone else like a slap of reality. God, maybe it wasn’t a vision at all. Maybe it was just a stupid delusion and I was the idiot who let it mean something.

His smile faded, just a bit. He wanted to explain. He wanted to reach into your thoughts and pull that version of him out, hand him to you like a promise.

Instead, you answered.

[Y/N]

I was just surprised. That’s all.

Another lie. Another flicker of your truth curled under it:

You make me nervous.

You make me mad.

But worse, you make me want to hope.

And I don’t know what to do with that.

A soft laugh bubbled from Jungwon’s throat. It felt... new. Not like the practiced chuckles he gave to classmates or the stiff polite ones he reserved for teachers. This one felt like sunshine cracking open in his chest.

sunoo said you looked pissed.

[Y/N]

Well, maybe tell Sunoo to mind his business.

That little traitor.

But... he’s not wrong.

I was pissed. Still am. But also, ugh. Why do I want him to keep texting me? NO, every text from him makes my head boil.

His chest ached in the sweetest, most unbearable way.

He barely realized what he was typing next.

you don’t like me much, do you.

The silence stretched just long enough to make him nervous. But your thoughts answered before your fingers did.

I don’t know how to not like you. I don’t know how I feel about you. That’s the problem.

You make me mad. But you also make my hands shake.

He sucked in a breath.

You were trying so hard to protect yourself. And yet, your walls had tiny cracks and through them, he could feel your heartbeat echoing like his.

[Y/N]

I don’t really know you.

A beat passed.

Then another.

Jungwon stared at those six words for a long time. And when he finally replied, it came from somewhere deeper.

This time, he didn’t hesitate.

then maybe let me fix that.

The words were barely on the screen before your thoughts fluttered again.

What does that even mean?

Is this how he talks to the other girls? That easy, casual charm?

God, I hate this. I hate how I want it to be different with me.

Is it stupid… that a part of me wants to say yes?

Jungwon pressed the phone to his chest, eyes closing for a second.

For once, the world was quiet.

Except for the soft, dangerous hope blooming between your mind and his.

And god… he hoped you could feel it too.

That night, Jungwon thought maybe his blessing wasn’t so bad after all. Not loud. Not suffocating. Just... quiet enough to feel like something sacred.

He fell asleep on his birthday without telling anyone what he’d received. No big announcement, no family expectation, no performance. Just him, alone with the memory of your thoughts that are honest and vulnerable echoing softly in his chest.

It might’ve been his favorite birthday yet.

Because for the first time in a long time, he dreamed not of pressure, pleasure, or perfection, but of you.

And when morning came, groggy and golden through his window, the first thing that surfaced in his mind wasn’t the dread of responsibility.

It was you.

Now, hours later, that same girl—the one who’d occupied his mind all night, maybe even all these years—was clinging to the back of his shirt, arms wrapped around his waist as his motorbike hummed down the empty road.

And Jungwon smiled, wind in his hair, heart louder than the engine.

masterlist.

sorry for another cliffhanger hehe, notes and comments are very much appreciated :D

permanent taglist:

@1starqi @imfuckingwhipped @moon0fthenight @jiawji @shawnyle @simja3 @babyboomysweetie @50-husbands @charlizefaye @anudocuments @ooriwoo @sa-brinaaa @luumiinaa @personallyminelol @yjwonsgf @lvvstruck @leah-rose03 @kanonjji @kyunlov @somuchdard @seongiewon @theothernads @luumiinaa @enhaverse713586 @lynanist @moriwori

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[myjjongie]

✶ FIREWORKS ── l. heeseung

IN WHICH: you and your boyfriend watch fireworks together on a summer night.

PAIRING: bf!heeseung x gf!fem reader GENRE/WARNINGS: lowercase intended !!, one shot, established relationship, angst, heavy on the angst, hurt/no comfort WORDS COUNT: 1.4k ₊⊹♡ EVIE'S NOTE: yeah, i did and didn't have fun writing this. lowkey hurt myself with one to be honest. sigh. also have another angst one shot i'm cooking up. at this point i'm just being evil :3

lee heeseung.

your boyfriend of what felt like more than 5 years. your first love since your junior year of high school. the man who was your first kiss, your first date, and the first person you lived with. heeseung ultimately was your first for everything.

and for heeseung? it was the same for him. you were his first for everything as well. as the years went on and those firsts you both shared together, you knew deep down heeseung would be your one and only in the near future.

soon it became summer—the sixth summer you would be spending with him. any chance you both had free time, there would be dates planned.

from watching new movie releases on weekends, to day trips on the beach, every date planned was filled with fun and new memories. as summer was coming to its end, there was an annual festival coming up.

heeseung and you were already in agreement to go together, already making sure anything that revolved around your jobs would be taken care of.

soon it was the weekend of the festival. dressed up in attire that matched one another’s, you both headed out. as you walked down the dirt path—filled with stalls of all kinds, from food to games to vendors. your hands were intertwined, swinging back and forth as you enjoyed the scenery around you.

as the night went on, heeseung won you stuffed animals and bought delicious food to share. the night felt perfect in your eyes. you couldn’t have asked for anything more, and for heeseung, it was the same.

as you both circled back around you checked the time. the fireworks display would be starting soon.

“hee, the fireworks are starting soon! i have a nice spot i saw earlier!” you chimed happily, giving him the happiest smile.

heeseung smiled fondly back at you. “okay. lead the way!”

shortly, you found the spot you remembered. a secluded on top of a grassy hill. the view overlooked the stalls below, leaving the sky view vast and open.

“wait this view is beautiful. you did an amazing job babe!” heeseung praised as he gave you a forehead kiss.

“what can i say!” you cheekily replied.

heeseung couldn’t help but laugh at your tone, causing a smile to form once again.

as you both settled down on the bench, you cuddled up to heeseung—head leaning on his shoulder as you fiddled with his fingers in your hand. one thing you did often whenever you cuddled him.

without a warning the first firework went off, causing the both of you to jump. realizing your reaction, you both shared a laugh, truly relishing in the moment. soon more fireworks went off in the night sky.

the blooming colors scattering the sky making you feel something. “i hope we have fireworks at our wedding.” your fingers tightening around heeseung’s.

“at our wedding? who says we’re getting married?”

your body froze for a second, your heart weighing down suddenly. maybe you heard him wrong. lifting your head from heeseung’s shoulder, you turned to look at him.

“huh?” you stared at him—confused. yet, when heeseung looked at you, it was as if he didn’t say anything wrong.

“who said we’re going to get married?” he repeated, this time letting out a small laugh.

it didn’t sound malicious, it sounded like a fact—almost indifferent. you were speechless. your mind was thinking questions you wanted to ask right then and there. yet, you never said anything.

you let out a small laugh to dissuade the situation. “no yeah. we never even talked about marriage. what am i saying?” quick to dismiss the comment with a laugh. softly biting the inside of you mouth—hoping tears wouldn’t fall.

the rest of the night was silent on your end. “hey babe, is everything okay?”heeseung asked, concern in his tone.

“nothing. i’m just tired now.” you lied. you smiled at him, hoping heeseung would believe it. and that he did.

as summer officially ended, so did everything you felt. the past 5 years of love, thoughts of marrying heeseung, sharing a future. it all died that summer night.

once the late summer days rolled into the new season, your relationship changed with it.

before, you never fought with heeseung, not once did you raise your voice at him. yet now you did. minor things he could say or do upset you.

maybe you felt some resentment towards heeseung for what he said. in the end, you wouldn’t have doubted those feelings.

finally, one night heeseung noticed the change in your attitude—confused as to why you were suddenly like this—he confronted you.

pulling you down to the couch, heeseung spoke. “yn. talk to me. what’s going on? we’ve never fought like this before. yet now it feels like we do it every day?” despite what he said that night, heeseung still deeply loved you and cared for you.

but for you, you weren’t sure if you felt the same anymore. you hesitated for a moment, not daring to look him in the eyes. your fingers gripped at the fabric of your jeans. knuckles whitening as you internally fought yourself.

“why don’t you want to marry me?”

“what?” heeseung was stunned—taken aback by the question. he had forgotten about that night, thinking the comment made wasn’t serious.

“I asked, why don’t you want to marry me?” you repeated yourself, wishing for this one question to finally be answered.

“yn. where is this coming from?”

your head quickly turned to heeseung. “what do you mean where is this coming from? after all these years you’ve never once thought, ‘i’m gonna marry this girl’. you’ve never thought that?” your eyes began to sting, tears slowly brimming them.

“yn i love you. that’s true and will always be a fact. but. we’re so young still, i just don’t know if marriage is something i can think about yet…” heeseung’s voice was soft, yet it felt like knives were piercing your heart.

you could see the future ahead of you crumble away. “we’ve been dating since we were juniors. since we were seventeen. five years since then, and you don’t want to marry me?” your voice cracked as tears streamed down your face.

at this moment your heart was breaking apart, you couldn’t even look at the man you called your boyfriend. the same man you had been with for 5 years.

heeseung soon realized the fault in his words. “no yn. i didn’t mean it like that. what i’m trying to say is, i think i’m scared. i’m scared of messing things up, ruining everything, and just not being enough. marriage is this huge permanent thing. what if i ruin it?”

your glossy eyes looked at him, disbelief written on your face. “so you’d rather keep things uncertain? just let me keep planning a future you’re not even one hundred percent sure about?” you scoffed.

“yn. one thing is for certain. i’m sure about you. i’ve never been unsure about that.”

“then prove it…”

“i will. i promise.” heeseung hugged you, hoping to ease whatever you felt deep down. the only thing you could do was weakly hug him back.

in truth deep down, you knew he wouldn’t be able to. it wasn’t because he didn’t care, caring was never the problem. he loved you, yes—but he loved you in a way that didn’t reach the end of forever. heeseung feared that ledge more than loving you for a lifetime. that was the problem.

in the end, you stayed. you stayed because five years was hard to throw away. there were moments where you loved that comfort of familiarity, the shared laughter, his warm touch, waking up every morning next to him. as well as the simple things that reminded you of why you fell for him. you stayed because part of you was still in love with heeseung.

but soon, that love started to feel like a weight—heavy and uncertain.

as the weeks went on, you noticed the little things. how quick heeseung was to change the subject when you brought up the future. how his one promise rang more like a reassurance than a committed plan.

then one day, your heart stopped racing when you saw him—it sank. heeseung truly started to feel like a distant memory.

that summer night all those months ago opened your eyes to something. heeseung would never fully commit himself to a future with you, you would always be his girlfriend nothing more. you would never be a fiancé, wife, or even a mother.

then one day as the air began to chill and the leaves fell from the trees—signaling fall was finally here—you ended things with heeseung.

perm taglist ( open! refer to this post ) . . . @ikeulove @leehsngs @ijustwannareadstuff20 @enhanextdoor @zaycie @dylanobr1ens @miraeluv @ancnymcnzjy @lvvrikss @treasureteez @sunghoon-cam

©myjjongie 2025

[alexaloraetheris]

I'm gonna talk about something I've noticed on the internet in the last few years that I've been calling the Shrinking Circle of History.

To use a concrete example, I'm gonna out myself as a certain kind of girl: I actually follow Mikayla Nogueira. I don't even have a Tiktok, I just open the website on my Firefox browser and have four five tiktok accounts bookmarked and Mikayla is one of them.

For the normal Tumblr fare who avoid tiktok like the plague, she's a makeup influencer who has amassed a fair bit of controversy even though she's been popular for barely 5 years. Why? Because of something called Mascaragate, which I'll explain, but the whole disaster actually mirrors one other disaster you might be more familiar with in certain ways: Dashcon.

Hear me out, I'll get to the point in a bit.

So. Mascaragate, as it was called, happened thus. Mikayla posted a tiktok in which she applied a generous coat of mascara on her lashes, said she'd 'add a few more coats' and cut the video to the next scene in which she also put on false lashes to amplify the effect.

And the internet ripped her into shreds.

I learned of this later, after it was done, so I was entirely baffled as to WHY this was such a big deal. It was a mascara ad. Influencers do those. Kinda shitty it was undisclosed, but like. She was a full-time influencer at that point. She needs to make money off her platform (and she very much does) and brand sponsorships are part of the package. We learned that back when all the influencers were on youtube and tiktok didn't even exist. Can you name ONE mascara ad in which the models aren't wearing falsies? Why was this the event that was horrible enough to be lumped in with fucking Gamergate?

And then I read a post about Dashcon, about how behind the glamour of anime posters and pretty cosplayers and your favorite artists, the entire con is a disaster held together by ductape and Trekkie fujoshi tears (paraphrased). And the kids organizing Dashcon weren't aware of just how much support and organising was necessary to hold a con. The olds have failed to teach the new, and the string holding everything together didn't just break, it didn't even form. The ice of the old internet had broken, and the creator of Dashcon was the first to fall through. Except she wasn't. She was just the one we all heard of.

Mascaragate is a different beast, but certain threads were similar in a few ways. In commercials, we don't even care that the models are wearing ultraglam anime lashes, we know it's fake. Celebrities hired to hold a product and smile aren't actually USING it. We know that now, but when it was new, we trusted them. And then it came out that Maybelline girls were very much neither born with it nor using the mascara, but a big brand house like Maybelline could take the heat without noticing. We moved on and just used the ad break to skip to the bathroom between movies.

Then Youtube became popular and the actual makeup artists posted tutorials how to actually use makeup. New kids on the block with nothing but a camcorder and passion became the new idols. They recommended products they were using not because they were paid, but because they were actually using it.

But then brands realized they could sell a shitty product if they paid a youtube celebrity to gush about it, and the cycle repeats. There were new outpourings of rage, and some beauty gurus caught the heat and others worked to be more transparent. They built their influence on trust, and they worked to keep it, and we grudgingly accepted that if we want to keep seeing them, we needed to accept a few shilling tactics and moved on.

And then tiktok came and the influencer mill started. The kids locked in during the pandemic spent too much time being invested in entirely new people, and they gave their trust to people who hadn't been given a chance to earn it. And the ice cracked again and the cycle came full circle.

Now look at the years of those cycles. Commercials are fucking OLD. We've had them for as long as we had mass media of any form. Brand sponsorships are as old as celebrities. But youtube is not that old. Tiktok's been around for less than I've been in university. And yet the same old outrage keeps happening like it's new in shorter and shorter periods.

And it keeps happening. Every generation has to learn the same lessons from scratch, both on a smaller scale like this (every generation on a new platform has to learn the same fucking things on their own) and on a much bigger historical scale (how fashism gets started). Kids wanting AO3 censored because they don't remember the Livehournal Strikethrough. Kids falling for Gaza fundraiser scams because they don't realize Nigerian Princes are behind it. The whole Tradwife movement because their grandmothers don't talk about what being a 'traditional wife' was actually like.

I finally get to the point. You heard that history is a flat circle, but I can't be the only one who noticed that the circles are getting smaller. The pendulum always swings back, but the swing frequency is getting higher. We are doomed to repeat history not just our grandparents but our parents lived through, and we're getting to the point we're repeating history WE lived through ourselves. People are more connected that ever but nobody actually talks to each other. Trump is following Hitler's playbook and the only people I see screaming about it are on Tumblr, where the average age of users is approaching middle aged. We are living through the exact same thing people did a century ago except with iphones and we learned nothing.

History is doomed to repeat, but at this point the pendulum isn't a pendulum but a fucking bouncy ball.

The circle of history is shrinking, and it's frankly terrifying.

[phoebeegreen3]

Capri Persson (F1) — No Victory

🏎 SUMMARY: What if the best driver of recent years isn't actually him? What if the best driver is actually hiding something else? Would he still be the best? Or just a simple fraud? 📓 GENRE: secret identity / rivals to lovers / he felt first, she felt harder / soulmates / slow burn 📬 PARTS: book one (two parts) / CP9, book two (one part) 🏆 CAPRIPERSSON.MASTERLIST

Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates. November 2022

Breathe, four seconds.

Hold, four seconds.

Exhale, four seconds.

Endure, four seconds.

Repeat.

I closed my eyes, feeling the process run through my entire system. The white noise blasting in my headphones helped drown out any nervousness. The breathing and focus forced me not to think about anything else. I couldn't afford to think about anything else and ruin it.

I had to be fast. I had to prove I had what it took. I had to beat Max Verstappen for the first time in my life. And that would be enough to establish myself as the best driver. That would be enough to restore my confidence.

I knew this track. The weekend had been brilliant—I knew exactly what I had to do. I had a strategy. I just had to let it happen.

I couldn't lose.

I didn't want to win. I'm going to win.

When I heard a knock on the door, I knew it was time. I opened my eyes, took off my headphones, and grabbed my helmet, the number 9 displayed prominently. It was time to show the world that Capri Persson was truly a winner and not just a joke. This was my moment. This was everything I had fought for all these years.

Maybe I could even take off my helmet to celebrate.

I had to do it.

Don't fail.

FORMULA 1: DRIVE TO SURVIVE

SEASON 5, EPISODE 10 ❝ NO VICTORY ❞

Will Buxton, F1 Journalist:

"I don't recall a season like this for two rivals such as Max Verstappen and Capri Persson. And even less so for teams like Red Bull and AlphaTauri. It's definitely something we see once every fifty years, and it's happening right now.

The 2022 Formula 1 season started off strong for both rivals—exquisite race weekends where it was just the two of them. It was either Persson or Verstappen, AlphaTauri or Red Bull Racing. No one else mattered.

It was a tough season, especially since it marked Sebastian Vettel's final year in F1, but what these two delivered managed to distract everyone from everything else going on around them.

Max had already been champion in 2021. At the time, Capri was still paying his dues in the paddock after a rookie season in 2020, even though his achievements proved he could be the next champion. But Max was never going to allow that.

2021 had been a difficult year for Persson. He was no longer a rookie—he had to prove himself beyond just that title, which had surprised everyone since his pre-season debut in 2020. And while not everyone agreed, Capri had delivered a performance comparable only to Vettel's or Schumacher's in their golden eras. He knew what he was there for—he knew he was going to win, to rise, and that was his sole focus. It had been tough, but there was no doubt that Capri Persson's rise had been phenomenal, even driving an AlphaTauri.

And let's not forget how shocking his entry into F1 was—not just because of his talent but also because of his attitude. Perhaps what should have truly frightened everyone was that a rookie, in his very first steps, was already calling drivers like Carlos Sainz Jr., Daniel Ricciardo, and even Kevin Magnussen 'mediocre.' No one saw that coming. But the real concern was what he was capable of doing behind the wheel of an AlphaTauri—because if he could achieve all of this in a midfield car, what would he do with a much faster one? And why was he still with the team after two years? What was keeping him there?

To be honest, the AT01 was not a car that matched Capri Persson's level. But after that, AlphaTauri understood they needed much better cars to suit their star driver—something that became evident with the AT03, the first car from the team built to comply with the major technical regulation changes introduced in 2022.

But that wouldn't last long.

After winning the 2021 championship, Max Verstappen entered the new season with more confidence than ever. Everything he had worked for paid off that year, even with Persson breathing down his neck. But it still wasn't enough. Capri needed something more to reach Max's level, and that became clear as the 2022 season unfolded.

Pre-season testing was a preview—just like in 2020—of what the rest of the season would look like. And that meant the start of one of the most anticipated rivalries in Formula 1 in recent years. Silent yet calculated, the Persson-Verstappen showdown didn't fully take shape until 2022, paving the way for what I would personally call one of the best seasons of the last twenty years.

Bahrain was extraordinary—that first race where everyone tries to show their commitment for the rest of the season. But if we compare it to what followed, nothing from that race reflected what was to come.

Everything changed in Saudi Arabia—a brilliant Grand Prix for the season's two stars. This was where we first saw them closing in on each other. Persson reached Verstappen's level, and Verstappen fought with everything he had to shake him off—but it wasn't possible. Persson was right there, relentlessly chasing him. And two laps before the end, the podium was his. It was a spectacular start for Capri Persson.

Out of the 23 races that season, Max Verstappen won 10, and Capri Persson won another 10, leaving one victory each for Vettel and Hamilton. Their tie was what set the stage for the Abu Dhabi finale.

The tension had been there from the start. But the real question was—who didn't have tension with Capri Persson? Nobody liked the fact that he refused to take off his helmet, didn't give interviews, and avoided events involving the rest of the drivers. Persson was living a dream that many on the grid wished for—just showing up, racing, and winning. And the fact that the FIA had allowed it didn't sit well with anyone."

Christian Horner, Team Principal, Aston Martin Red Bull Racing:

"It was... terrible."

'Would you describe how you experienced it? What was it like?'

"Uff, I don't think I ever want to relive that. Let's just leave it where it belongs... I don't remember experiencing a race the way I lived through Abu Dhabi 2022. Simply put... It never happened."

Will Buxton, F1 Journalist:

"By that point, there was no doubt that Christian could already see it. If Capri Persson won Abu Dhabi... it could mean the end for Red Bull. It was that simple. It also wouldn't be healthy for either team to have their two best drivers not just tied but igniting a rivalry with no foreseeable end.

Everyone expected it—Capri Persson winning Abu Dhabi. It would have been unprecedented. It would have been something revolutionary. And I'd even go as far as to say that Christian Horner himself saw it coming. His expression changed completely when Turn 16 of the final lap arrived.

'What happened?'

Abu Dhabi would determine the tie that Max Verstappen and Capri Persson had carried up to that point—that was clear. But at the same time, Abu Dhabi would place one at the top of the championship and the other far below, crashing hard from the fall. The 57 laps leading up to the final one were unbelievable. Neither was willing to give up their position once they overtook the other, but at the same time, they overtook each other repeatedly—57 times. Fifty-seven! The rest of the drivers seemed like mere decorations. Checo Pérez and Pierre Gasly did a magnificent job, considering how little their teams seemed to care about them. All of Red Bull was focused on Max Verstappen, while all of AlphaTauri had its eyes on Capri Persson. It could have even been dangerous, but it was a competitive spectacle. You could feel the chills and tension in the garages.

One lap was led by Red Bull, the next by AlphaTauri. The wheel-to-wheel battles were so intense that entire teams stood up, feeling just how badly things could go. No one ever mentioned the danger between these two drivers because both seemed committed to pushing the limit, fully prepared to accept the consequences. Otherwise, there would have been an uproar when Persson boxed Verstappen in on one of the mid-race corners. But no one said a word because both were playing right on the edge between legal and illegal, and both Christian and Franz knew it perfectly well.

Becoming champion was the least of their concerns. Finishing as runner-up, however, was a completely different story. Neither of them would ever allow themselves to be second place, and that was the real issue. Winning didn't matter—it was about not losing to the other.

The race was one of the most-watched in the last fifteen years. By lap 58, everyone understood what the season had been for both drivers, as it had been fully reflected in the previous 57 laps. Lap 58 marked a before and after in both careers. They seemed perfectly synchronized in their battle, making contact, pulling apart but never separating. Until Max took turn 14 too aggressively, leaving an open path for Capri Persson. That must have earned Horner a few muttered curses, but just when they thought it was all over, with Persson barely ahead for a second, Capri completely lost control of his car on the final turn of the final lap.

The AT03 crashed straight into the barrier, and before anyone expected it, flames started to rise. Capri got out in time—the fire in the car was the least of the worries. What truly mattered was coming to terms with losing a victory that should have been his. How would Capri Persson take it personally?

No one ever knew, and probably no one ever will.

Max became a two-time world champion, but that wasn't really the focus of attention. The world fixated on a headline that was released that very morning, perfectly capturing everyone's reaction to what had arguably been one of the greatest season finales in recent history.

The article was titled 'Capri Persson: No Victory'—and it set the stage for the rest of his story."

«PREVIOUS: The Ghost

»NEXT: Part I

[peejay-docs]

After Dark

[1 - Caffeine and Chaos]

A Daredevil x Vigilante!OC series

Trigger warnings: 18+ ; mentions of violence, swear words

Word count: 2.6k

Prompt:

#9 - "Close your eyes, you don't need to see this."

Author's note:

This is my first tumblr post, and official entry for @bellaxgiornata's 4k Follower Celebration Writing Challenge! It has been quite a while–and I mean YEARS–since I last wrote anything close to this. This concept was already in my mind for a while and when I saw the writing challenge, I figured what the hell, let's do it. As mentioned, this is an OC one-shot but feel free to imagine yourself as the OC in this series. This is also my first experience writing action sequences, so please be gentle.

Huge thank you to @sleepyflorian for helping me edit and proof-read my work. I can't thank you enough ❤️

Might also continue this and turn it into a series 👀. Anyway, I hope ya'll enjoy.

Update: It is a now a series. I repeat. It is now a SERIES! I just made a Masterlist, which you can find by clicking on the hyperlink provided, or you can find it in my page. Hope that you'll join me on this journey. Man, i'm excited!

•••••••••••••

"Hi, what can I get you?" I ask the customer in front of me with a tight-lipped smile, itching to finally get off of work and be rid of the scent of roasted beans that will probably stick with me even after I leave the shop. Before the man in the overcoat could tell me their order, I felt a light tap on my shoulder by a recently hired barista, asking for assistance about the steamer. With no hesitation, I immediately had someone else to take over for me and went to help out the rookie.

As I counted down the minutes until my shift was over, the blend of soft indie music, the gentle hiss of steam, and the clatter of porcelain echoing through the place—mixed with the scent of roasted beans—was already making me sick to my stomach. Again, I continued showing her the ropes and how the steamer worked, making sure she was paying close attention. I took a quick glance at her pinned name tag.

“You got it, Mal?” I asked reassuringly.

She smiled and gave an enthusiastic nod. Watching her, I was suddenly reminded of when I was in her shoes—starting out behind the counter. I began working at the shop two years ago, right after moving to Hell’s Kitchen looking to start anew.

My mentor at the time was harsh with me and would throw insults whenever they could. Sure, I could’ve just punched the daylights out of that person with no problem, but that wouldn't exactly help me achieve the somewhat 'normal' life I wanted for myself. I wished I had been treated the way I treated Mal back when I was just starting–but unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Now that I am assistant manager, I made it a point to be kind and patient with the trainees, not wanting them to feel the way I did back then.

Once again, I was tapped on the shoulder—this time by Kyle, a colleague-turned-friend who started working here about a year ago—signaling that a drink was ready to be handed to a customer. With a long sigh, I smiled at Kyle and made my way to the counter, ready to hand it over to whomever ordered the drink.

"One white chocolate mocha for..." I raised the cup to eye-level, squinting at the name scribbled on the to-go cup. "Froggy?" I said, my voice laced with confusion. Rolling my eyes, I let out a quiet huff. I swear, some of the baristas here write names wrong on purpose just to mess with me.

Just then, a faint laugh echoed from a corner of the shop and I turned toward the sound and spotted a familiar blonde woman grinning widely at a man grimacing—probably her friend. I see them here often, always stopping by for their daily coffee. There were usually three of them and only now did I realize that their other friend—whom I've always thought to be intriguing—was not with them. They’ve certainly come to the café enough to be deemed regulars. I took note of the other one's absence, which I found just now to be more significant than I'd ought it would be.

"I think that's you." The pretty blonde woman teased.

Begrudgingly, the pale-skinned man walked over to collect his drink. Once he was close enough he said "It's Foggy, actually."

“This isn’t one of our finest moments,” you admit. “And probably not our last." I say with threatening eyes directed toward the crew behind me in search of the culprit, only to be met with their collective, muffled laughter.

"Ah, it's alright, I guess." He says lightly. "As long as the coffee’s good, it’s more than enough compensation." He reassures me with a kind smile. "Besides, as much as it kind of pains me to hear my name mispronounced, I can't deny that I'm also curious to see what you guys come up with every time I come here."

I let out a soft chuckle at his comment before he thanked me and left the shop with the blonde woman.

Turning towards Kyle who was making another drink, I caught his eye—and as if he could feel my gaze, he shot me a knowing look, brows raised.

"That's my last one for today." I expressed through a tired breath. He chuckled with a shaking head as I turned and headed toward the back of the shop.

I swiftly untied the knot holding my apron together, and lifted it over my head. Opening my designated locker, I grabbed my backpack and replaced it with the apron I just worn. Then I aimed for the backdoor of the shop, pushing it open. As I was about to step outside, Kyle called out to me and said his goodbye.

After hours of making and serving caffeinated beverages, I was finally free and out walking through the busy streets of Hell's Kitchen, mentally preparing for another night of patrolling. Last night had been smooth, to say the least. I stopped a mugging, two pickpockets, and even retrieved a stolen bike from a teenager who clearly had nothing better to do with his life. It was one of the more peaceful nights around here, but nonetheless, I was glad to be of help—no matter how small the impact might seem.

My apartment was just a few blocks away from the coffee shop, and my main goal at the moment was simple: get home, change into my suit, and stop crime where I could. Even though I trusted the people back at the café, I still kept my suit and gadgets at home, not wanting to risk someone invading my privacy and snooping through my things only to discover that I'm actually a certain vigilante roaming the streets at night.

Occasionally, I’d end up in the papers—usually after stopping a major crime, like the time I prevented a jewellery store robbery.. But I don't do it for the glory or fame. And to be honest, even if I did, I still get nothing out of it, not with my strong conviction to keep my identity a secret.

As I rounded a corner, just a few meters ahead, I spotted five men in jumpsuits cornering a man clutching his bag for dear life, right outside some establishment.

"Ugh, I'm not really dressed appropriately for this." I mutter to myself looking down at my jeans and sneakers, mustering the courage to interrupt them.

"Hey!" I shout toward the group of men. All five of them—and the defenseless man—turn to face me at once. "Leave that man alone."

"This ain't any of your business, missy." The bulkiest of the bunch spoke menacingly, his voice low and threatening. "Get lost."

I sigh in disappointment. "I should've seen that coming." I mutter under my breath. Then, raising my voice again, "Look buddy," Staring straight into him. “I really don't want any trouble, Just please don't hurt the guy."

He laughs at my attempt at bravery, urging his jumpsuited friends to laugh with him. "And what makes you think I will do whatever you tell me to?" He snarls.

"Honestly, I don't.” shifting my weight from one leg to the other.“But I was hoping you would since it would probably be best for all of us." I shrug. “Most especially you.”

"Little lady,"

A chill ran down my spine—and not the good kind—as I heard his nickname that he’s clearly made up for me. He starts walking closer, with each step of his growing heavier and more deliberate.

"Why don't you go on your way and let us finish our business?"

I sigh, "I didn't want to do this." I said while shaking my head in disapproval.

"Do what, exactly?" He smirked, completely unthreatened by my words.

Unfortunately for both of us, my patience doesn’t run very far—so I took it as a challenge.

Without another word, I swing my right leg up, my foot merging with his jaw. He crashes to the ground with a thud, grunting in pain.

His friends glare at me, eyes wide, fists clenched—I could practically see steam flowing out of their ears and noses.

That was my cue to run.

As I sprint down the street, I hear his voice yelling behind me, faint but furious, "Get her!"

With urgency, I passed through the crowd in Hell's Kitchen—doing my best not to bump into anyone—and shouting a quick, genuine "Sorry!” to those I couldn't. The sky was growing darker so the bright green glow of the stoplight up ahead immediately caught my eye. That’s when I quickly conjured up a plan to shake them off.

I pick up speed, ignoring the ache in my legs from all the sprinting. Patrolling at night was one thing—but this? Running away from trouble? That wasn’t my usual style.

Without looking back, I dashed across the crosswalk, dodging people as best I could, Escaping them was proving harder than I thought.

As I neared the other side of the road, the light turned yellow, giving me only just a few seconds to execute my spontaneous plan. I took it as a sign and pushed myself to run faster.

By the time the light turned red, I had already crossed. Behind me, the intersection exploded with the chaotic roar of engines and angry car horns. Still I forced myself to calm down—just enough to steady my breathing. Hands on my knees, I fought through the burning sensation in my legs which were intensifying by the minute.

This was already too much for one night.

And yet... It only reminded me why I do what I do.

I glanced behind me with hopes of finally losing my tail—only to feel that hope evaporate. They were still coming. Determined. Reckless. They darted across the road, dodging cars and buses, ignoring every traffic law in the book.

"Oh, come on." I mutter, breath hitching as I keep sprinting down the sidewalk.. I turn a sharp corner—only to find myself in a dark, dead-end alley.

"Shit." I cursed under my breath.

I spin around, desperate to make a run for it, hoping they still haven't caught up. But the sky has now turned nearly black, and the shadows aren’t doing me any favors.

Then I see them.

They’re just a few meters from me, the bulky one trails close behind, pushing through the group like a tank.

My heart slams against my chest, adrenaline buzzing through every vein.

At this point, there's no way out.

No more running.

I clench my fists, steady my breath, and brace myself.

I have no choice now—I have to fight.

And without my suit, this is going to be a whole new problem.

"Hey boys," a voice called from somewhere above the alley.

All of us—including me—looked up, scanning for the source.

There, standing atop the building behind me, was a dark figure looking over us.

"You can do better than ganging up on a girl." The figure taunted, his low-pitched voice carrying a smug edge.

"Daredevil." I whispered in realization.

It was the vigilante, in the flesh.

He casually leaps off the building, using his baton’s grappling hook to land smoothly a few feet in front of me. He stood tall, planting himself between me and the men, his stance protective—broad shoulders blocking their view of me completely.

"Tell you what," says the man in the red suit, "I'm gonna let you off easy if you just leave her alone. How about that?" He negotiates.

In reaction to what he just said, one of the men laughed mockingly—but his expression hardened in an instant as he lunged forward with a punch towards Daredevil.

The vigilante swiftly dodged to the left, grabbed the assailant's arm then yanked him down to his knee, slamming hard into his gut. The man bent over as he grunted in with a pained grunt.

The men looked at him with anger, ready to retaliate..

"Close your eyes. You don't need to see this." He told me.

I remain standing, now even more unsure of what to do with this situation I put myself in.

Seconds later, he's already in full brawl mode with thuds and grunts echoing through the alley as he took on three at once with surgical precision.

The remaining two—including the bulky one—were eyeing me as they smugly approached, ignoring his group taking a beating from the vigilante.

Big mistake.

As soon as they were close enough, I sprang forward. Then, with one fluid leap I vault off the wall beside me, with my foot landing on one guy's jaw, sending him sprawling. The bulky one lunged at me but I twisted, caught his arm mid-swing and I drove my elbow into his throat. He let out a wet cough and collapsed in a heap.

When I looked up, Daredevil already got two guys on the ground, dealing one last big swing, making his final opponent drop unconscious.He turns to look at me, still in his fighting stance, only for his body to relax the moment he notices how quiet it had gotten and the bodies scattered around me.

"You alright?" He asks in-between breaths.

"Yeah," you exhale, "I'm fine."

"Did you do that?" He asks, nodding towards the unconscious men at my feet.

"I think so," I joked. "I mean, who else could've done that?" I shrugged, aiming to seem casual though I instantly worried it came off arrogant.

But he chuckled anyway.

"I'm sorry.” I quickly added, “I meant to say yes."

His head tilted slightly, as if analyzing me. I couldn't really tell the expression on his face through the mask. But the way he was looking made me little self-conscious.

“How’d you do that?" He asks, curiosity threading in his voice.

Panic flickered in my chest as I scrambled for an answer without giving anything away.

"I -uh," I stammered. "I took some classes." I answered, which was technically true, but probably not in the way he would imagine.

His lips curled into a smirk. "That's some class."

I let out a breath of a laugh in response.

"I better head home." I said, urgency creeping back into my voice. The whole encounter had reminded me—clearly, I still had work to do. Not that I blame him. He was just one person against an endless city of crime.

"Of course." He says as if coming to his senses. "And you'll be okay?" Asking with a softness in his voice, almost sounding like care.

"Yes, and um..." I respond, trailing off. "Thank you."

He dipped his head in a quiet nod, and then raised his grappling hook. My eyes followed his figure as he ascended effortlessly, vanishing onto the rooftops—probably off to save someone's day again.

With determination, I started walking towards my apartment with renewed urgency. My mind drifted off to the possibility of a new threat unfolding while I was still out of my suit. The thought unsettled me.

I need to get home.

And get out there—now.

I jogged along the same path where the goons had chased me earlier, with deja vu settling in with every step. Then my mind trailed off to the man I helped get away from the men in the jumpsuits. I certainly hope he found his way home safely.

As my apartment building came into view, I couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. I stopped for a moment and turned, scanning the street behind me. People moved about, immersed in their own lives—laughing, talking, rushing in and out of nearby shops. Everything seemed normal.

But I felt it—eyes on me.

Watching.

Studying.

I searched the crowd, narrowing my eyes as I looked at every corner, every shadowed doorway, waiting for something—or someone—to stand out. Nothing did.

After a minute of fruitless searching, I shook my head. Probably just the aftershock of the night’s events. Adrenaline messes with your instincts sometimes.

Still uneasy, I pulled my keys from my bag and pushed open the door to my building, trying to brace myself for whatever the rest of the night had in store.

[andorshitdaily]

it's that time again. Andor characters as shirts that go hard

bonus:

[crossbackpoke-check]

blessed be (lorscher bienensegen) | telling the bees (wiþ ymbe)

"Bees" [remixed, abridged], Claudia Emerson // "Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years from Now" [remixed. abridged], Matthew Olzmann // "Letter to my Great, Great Grandchild" [remixed, abridged], J.P. Grasser | Len Redkole, Nina Weiss, Brian Babineau, Christian Peterson, Mitchell Leff, Dave Isaac, Megan DeRuchie

[vimbry-moved]

jumping off the back of the post about genres of song lyrics, another thing about tmbg's lyrics in particular is that even when they write about pleasant themes, they still manage to frequently do so through a sinister lens:

the experience of having children and looking after them:

a nice little nightlight protecting a child muses on the shortcomings it would have outside its assigned responsibility:

fantasising about getting high in the park with your crush:

[boysareouttonight]

my barbie

[yaraanderson]

Something that really got to me about the Salt Lake Crew scenes so far is that they don't feel like friends. Yeah sure, they have some issues, mainly the Love Triangle Trio, but they are longtime friends. They are Loyal to each other above all else rn. They were in this decision to come after Joel together, even if Abby was the main motivator. Abby didn't convince them to help out of hierarchy or fear of her, but because they wanted to. Because they cared about her and what they all lost. She doesn't order them around as if they're subservient.

Without something similar to Owen and Abby's playful-then-difficult conversation, we don't get a feel for them as people. All the righteous justifications in the world mean nothing for swaying an audience if it's isolated; just words from a strange and hateful mouth.

[notonlymice]

rumbelle + rapunzel au moodboard (traditional version)

[twilight-good-yall-dumb]

y'all, it all really does come down to what you loved as a child, doesn't it? because tell me why I've done a full 360° back to my childhood fave 1D member. Like I am such a fucking Louis apologist now. He has infected me body and soul. Can't stop thinking about that little man :/

[sepiasys]

Idk if it's bc I'm like NOT suffering the horrors or if my state of being is why or whatever, but man. I've really been being a yapper, huh?

I say this in reference to my social life lmao

[quilleth]

the extreme level of 0 fucks to give i feel about work lately is kind of problematic. but also...i give 0 fucks about it. just absolutely 0 motivation beyond the most bare minimum i can get away with doing and that's not even really motivation. that's just "i need to not be a complete bump on a log or i will get fired and we literally cannot afford to live if i do not have a job and also i would lose my admittedly very good healthcare that is covering therapy and medications and testing for my adhd, insomnia, and chronic fatigue." but like i don't care about it. i'm back in the office full time (i work remote during breaks) and i'm dreading it

[wildflowercryptid]

i've already latched onto dogen as my resident blorbo kiddo in psychonauts so of course the gears in my head are already spinning for what i think he'd be like in his teen & adult years. i wanna see him happy and healthy and also get that pet his parents promised him.

[finniestoncrane]

running around in a circle tugging at my hair and holding back tears: too many things too many things too many things too many things too many thi