8isfatesunshine

[8isfatesunshine]

Gilmore Girls AU

Chapter 1:Coffee First, Dreams later.

Summary: Growing up in the quiet town of Hanamachi, life was simple: school, coffee runs, and a future mapped out with Seungmin, the boy who always felt safe.

But when Yeosang — brooding, brilliant, and impossible to ignore, shakes up everything she thought she wanted, safety starts to look like a cage.

At college, O.de storms into her life with wild nights and impossible dreams, tempting her toward a world she’s only ever imagined.

First loves, heartbreaks, and second chances — she’s not just choosing who to love. She’s choosing who she wants to be.

Warnings: none, maybe angst later on

Mornings in Hanamachi smelled like burnt toast, strong coffee, and the kind of chill that promised the leaves would turn fiery red within the week.

She tumbled out of bed fifteen minutes late, hair a mess, sweater half inside-out, and shoes untied. There was no time for proper breakfast — just a mad dash downstairs to the comforting chaos of Chapter & Cup, the family café that had practically raised her.

“You’re late,” her mother called from behind the counter, already elbow-deep in coffee orders and town gossip.

“I know, I know,” she huffed, grabbing a to-go cup and a cinnamon bun from the counter in one motion. She dropped a quick kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Love you, bye!”

“You forgot your notes!”

She turned just in time to see Seungmin walk through the door, holding up a battered folder like a trophy. His hoodie was zipped halfway, his hair still stubbornly messy from sleep, and he carried an extra backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Lifesaver,” she gasped, taking the folder from him with a grateful smile.

“You’re going to owe me for this one,” he teased, following her out onto the street.

It was the kind of crisp autumn morning that made Hanamachi look like a picture from a storybook. Narrow sidewalks crowded with jack-o-lanterns and hay bales, handwritten signs advertising cider and fresh pies, colorful leaves skittering across the cobblestones.

They walked side-by-side toward the high school, falling into the easy rhythm that came from growing up together. Their shoulders brushed occasionally, neither of them pulling away.

“The festival committee needs volunteers,” Seungmin said, kicking at a stray pebble. “They’re desperate. I said we’d help.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Last year I got stuck manning the dunk tank in freezing weather. Hard pass.”

“I’ll man the dunk tank,” he offered, bumping her playfully. “You just have to be there. Supervise. Boss everyone around. You’re good at that.”

She laughed despite herself, tightening her grip on her coffee cup. Seungmin had a way of making everything — even terrible civic duties — sound fun.

They reached the school just as the first bell rang, and he held the door open for her with a mock bow. “After you, your majesty.”

“Flattery won’t get you out of dunk tank duty,” she said, smirking, before disappearing into the chaos of the hallways.

The day blurred by in a stream of lectures, half-finished homework, and whispered jokes passed between desks. By late afternoon, she was back at Chapter & Cup, balancing a stack of library books and her mother’s endless to-do lists.

The café was the heartbeat of the town — cozy, cluttered, filled with the smell of cinnamon and roasted coffee beans. Locals filtered in and out, each one greeted like family.

Her mother was manning the register, laughing with Mr. Park about his hopeless crossword puzzles, while Mrs. Choi’s toddlers built a fort out of café chairs in the corner.

It was home. It always had been.

Later that evening, the town gathered for the first Autumn Festival planning meeting. Folding chairs were dragged into messy circles in the town square, fairy lights strung overhead, and a table piled high with cider and cookies.

She sat between Seungmin and Mrs. Kim, who was already trying to strong-arm her into volunteering for the apple bobbing booth again.

“She’s our champion from last year,” Mrs. Kim said brightly. “You should’ve seen her! Beat three poodles and a golden retriever.”

“Legendary,” Seungmin said with a wink, and she elbowed him in the ribs.

The meeting stretched on, full of the usual debates about hayrides, pie contests, and whether or not it was finally time to retire the haunted corn maze. It was comforting in a way — the same arguments, the same people, the same traditions.

It felt safe. It felt like home.

When the meeting ended, Seungmin offered to walk her back to the café.

The streets were quiet now, the stars sharp and bright above them. Their footsteps echoed on the cobblestones, slow and easy.

“You ever think about getting out of here?” she asked suddenly, her voice almost lost in the cool night air.

Seungmin tilted his head. “Out of Hanamachi?”

She nodded, staring up at the blinking fairy lights strung across Main Street.

“Sometimes,” he said after a beat. “But… I don’t know. This is home, you know?”

She smiled, but something inside her ached.

Because even though she loved this town — its warmth, its traditions, its safety —

a part of her was starting to wonder if she was meant for something more.

Something bigger. Something waiting just beyond the edges of everything she’d ever known.

And though she couldn’t see it yet, the first ripple of change had already started — far away, like a storm brewing just past the horizon.

Tags:

@milkteabinniechan

[8isfatesunshine]

Caffeine and confessions

Chapter 3: Beyond the coffe shop walls

The next few days fall into a comfortable rhythm of morning writing sessions and shared coffee, but today is different. As I approach the café, I see Chan waiting outside, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

"I thought maybe we could try something different," he says with that dimpled smile that still makes my knees weak. "There's this amazing street art exhibition a few blocks away. We could grab our coffee to go?"

My heart races at the prospect of spending time with him outside our usual sanctuary. "I'd love that."

We get our drinks – my vanilla latte and his iced americano – and walk side by side through the bustling streets of Seoul. The morning air is crisp, and our shoulders occasionally brush, sending sparks through my entire body.

The exhibition turns out to be in a converted warehouse, its walls transformed into canvases of vibrant colors and bold designs. Chan's eyes light up as he explains the meaning behind different pieces, revealing his own passion for art.

"You know," he says, stopping in front of a particularly striking mural, "these artists remind me of you." When I look at him questioningly, he continues, "They take ordinary walls and turn them into stories. Just like you do with words."

Before I can respond, a group of teenage girls spots us. I hear the whispered "Isn't that Bang Chan?" and see him tense slightly. But instead of running or hiding, he gently takes my hand and leads me to a quieter corner of the exhibition.

The warmth of his hand around mine feels like a anchor in the sudden chaos. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I should have thought this through better."

I squeeze his hand reassuringly. "Don't be sorry. This is part of who you are."

He looks at me with such intensity that I forget about everything else. "Would you mind if we made a run for it? I know this amazing rooftop garden nearby. Much more private."

Suddenly, we're running through the back streets of Seoul, hand in hand, laughing like teenagers. Chan leads the way, obviously familiar with these hidden paths. We dodge street vendors and weave through narrow alleys until we reach an unassuming building.

"Close your eyes," he says as we enter the elevator. I comply, my heart pounding from both the run and anticipation.

When the elevator stops, he guides me forward. "Okay, open them."

I gasp. We're standing in a rooftop garden that looks like something out of a fairy tale. String lights crisscross overhead, and potted plants create little private nooks throughout the space. The Seoul skyline stretches out before us, beautiful even in daylight.

"This is where I come when I need to escape," Chan explains, leading me to a bench partially hidden by climbing vines. "When the pressure of being 'Bang Chan' becomes too much, this place reminds me that I'm still just... Chan."

"It's beautiful," I whisper, taking in the peaceful atmosphere.

He pulls out his galaxy notebook – the twin to the one he gave me. "I wrote something here last night. Would you... would you like to hear it?"

I nod, and he begins to sing softly, his voice carrying across the rooftop. It's a melody about finding unexpected connections, about coffee shop meetings and shared stories. About two people who create their own world in the midst of chaos.

When he finishes, there are tears in my eyes. "Chan, that was..."

But before I can finish, he leans in, his hand gently cupping my face. "Can I kiss you?" he whispers.

My answer is to close the distance between us. His lips are soft against mine, tasting of coffee and possibilities. The kiss is gentle, sweet, everything a first kiss should be.

When we finally pull apart, he rests his forehead against mine. "I've wanted to do that since the first morning I saw you in the café," he confesses.

A breeze rustles through the garden, carrying the scent of flowers and the distant sounds of the city. But here, in our private paradise, it feels like we're the only two people in Seoul.

"I should probably warn you," he says with a playful smile, "this might end up in one of my songs."

I laugh, my heart feeling lighter than air. "Only if you don't mind being in one of my stories."

We spend the rest of the morning in that rooftop garden, writing and talking and stealing kisses. When his phone eventually buzzes with messages about practice, neither of us wants to leave this moment.

"Same time tomorrow?" he asks, helping me up. "At our café?"

"Our café," I repeat, loving how it sounds. "It's a date."

As we descend back to the real world, I can't help but think that sometimes the best stories are the ones we live ourselves. And this one? This one is just beginning.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Tag list:

@milkteabinniechan @jennibahng

[8isfatesunshine]

Stray Kids Master List

Fluff:🌸

Angst: 🥀

Smut: 🍑

Bangchan:

Caffeine and confessions series 🌸🍑(part 1, part 2, part 3)

Lee know:

Changbin:

Hyunjin:

Too late or too early series🌸🥀🍑 (part 1)

Han:

Felix:

Seungmin:

Jeongin:

[8isfatesunshine]

Caffeine and confessions

Chapter 2: Morning light and Butterflies.

The next morning, I arrive earlier than usual, my fingers drumming nervously against my thigh as I push open the café door. The familiar bells chime, but today they sound like they're playing a different melody – or maybe that's just my imagination running wild.

The morning light streams through the curtains, creating dancing patterns on my table. I open my laptop, trying to focus on writing, but my eyes keep darting to the door every time the bells chime.

8:30 AM. The same time as yesterday.

The bells chime again, and my heart stops.

There he is, dark brown hair slightly tousled, wearing a white t-shirt under an oversized denim jacket this time. Our eyes meet, and his dimpled smile makes me forget how to breathe for a moment.

"Good morning," he says, already making his way to my table. "I brought you something."

From his bag, he pulls out a small notebook with a galaxy pattern on the cover. "I noticed yesterday that you type everything. But sometimes, the best ideas come when you write them down by hand." He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking shy. "I have one just like it for my lyrics."

I take the notebook, our fingers brushing for a brief moment. "Thank you," I manage to say, trying to ignore the electricity that shoots through me at the contact. "I love it."

"I was thinking," he starts, settling into the chair across from me, "maybe we could write together? Not like... professionally or anything. Just... you write your stories, I'll work on my lyrics, and we can bounce ideas off each other?"

The way he looks at me, hopeful and genuine, makes my heart flutter. This isn't Bang Chan the idol sitting across from me – this is just Chan, a fellow creator who seems to understand the way my mind works.

"I'd love that," I reply, and I mean it with every fiber of my being.

He beams at me before getting up to order his iced americano. As I watch him walk away, I open the notebook he gave me. On the first page, in neat handwriting, is a note:

"To new beginnings and coffee shop stories. - Chan"

Maybe this is the start of my greatest story yet.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Tag list:

@milkteabinniechan @jennibahng

[8isfatesunshine]

Too late or Too Early (Non Idol! Hyunjin x Fem!reader)

Summary: a break up doesn’t always mean both parties agreed, sometimes it wasn’t even meant to happen at all

Warnings: angst, hurt comfort

The rain hadn’t stopped in three days.

It tapped rhythmically against your window like it was trying to get in, like it knew your thoughts were a mess and wanted to wash them clean. But no amount of rain could rinse away the ache pressing into your ribs like someone was sitting on your chest.

It had been two weeks since Hyunjin walked out.

You told yourself this was what you wanted. You told him that too, didn’t you? That maybe you both needed space, time, clarity. But you hadn’t expected the silence. The complete and utter nothing from him. No texts. No calls. Not even one of those dramatic, middle-of-the-night voice memos he used to send when his heart was too full and his mouth too soft.

You should be used to it by now. Missing him.

But the universe was cruel. It kept throwing him in your face in the most inconvenient ways. His cologne still lingered on your scarf. A half-used tube of his favorite lip balm was still in your jacket pocket. And now—now you had to see him.

You weren’t ready.

But there he was, walking into the art supply shop like he hadn’t shattered your heart and taken the prettiest pieces with him.

Your stomach dropped. You could feel him before you saw him—like the gravity in the room had shifted. He always did that. Changed the atmosphere just by existing.

He looked the same. Worse, actually. Tired. Beautiful. Unwell. His hair was a little longer, tucked messily under a beanie, and his eyes—god, his eyes looked like he hadn’t slept since the last time he kissed you.

He saw you instantly.

You watched it happen: recognition flickering in his expression like a candle flame too close to going out. And then something more—something that looked a lot like regret.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft, unsure.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced your hands to stay at your sides.

“Hi.”

It was pathetic, really. How that one syllable from him could make your bones ache.

He shifted awkwardly. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

“I could say the same,” you muttered.

There was a pause, heavy and sharp. Like you both knew you were standing on broken glass and neither of you wanted to move first.

“Have you been okay?” he asked.

You blinked. That was the worst part. He still sounded like he cared.

“I’m fine,” you lied.

His eyes dropped to the floor. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

You hated him for knowing you so well. And hated yourself more for missing him.

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, more breath than voice. “Why did you let me go?”

His head snapped up, like he didn’t expect you to say it. Like the truth was something too raw to touch.

“I didn’t want to,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I thought you needed me to.”

You stared at him. The boy who once painted constellations on your back with his fingers. The boy who kissed your forehead like it was sacred. The boy who walked away because he thought it was what you needed—even though it killed him.

“I needed you to try,” you said, eyes burning. “I needed you to fight for us.”

The rain pounded harder outside. A drumbeat to match your heartbeat.

And then, for the first time in weeks, he took a step toward you.

“I never stopped,” he said. “I’ve been trying every day not to come running back to you. I just didn’t know if you’d want me.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so you did both. A choked sound left your throat as you closed the distance between you.

He didn’t hesitate this time. His arms wrapped around you like a home you forgot you had. His scent, his warmth, his voice—all of it made you feel like maybe this heartbreak wasn’t permanent after all.

“I miss you,” you murmured into his chest.

He pressed his lips to your hair.

“I never stopped loving you.”

Outside, the rain softened. Inside, so did you.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Authors note: part 2? Been having these saved up in my drafts and I wanna start making series.🩷

Tag list:

@milkteabinniechan

[8isfatesunshine]

Caffeine and Confessions (idol!Bangchan x Fan!reader)

Summary: a nice day at your favourite coffee shop turns into a conversation with the person you least expected to have one with. Reader has an interaction with Bangchan and gets to know him, will this lead to something she’s always hoped for.

Warnings: none at the moment just pure fluff.

The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans fills my lungs as I push open the door to the quaint café tucked away in the heart of Seoul. The gentle chime of bells announces my arrival, but I'm too focused on finding my usual spot – the cozy corner table beside the window where morning light streams through delicate curtains.

My hands cradle the warmth of my vanilla latte as I try to focus on my laptop screen. The café is relatively empty this early, save for a few dedicated regulars and...

Wait.

My heart skips a beat when the door chimes again. Looking up, I see him – Bang Chan. His dark brown hair catches the sunlight, creating a halo effect that makes him look almost ethereal. He's wearing a simple black hoodie, but somehow he makes it look like it belongs on a runway.

I quickly look back down at my screen, pretending I hadn't just been staring. But fate has other plans today. The universe must be playing some cosmic joke because there are plenty of empty tables, yet he's walking straight toward mine.

"Is this seat taken?" His voice is gentle, accompanied by a dimpled smile that makes my stomach do somersaults. His Australian accent adds an unexpected warmth to his words.

"No, go ahead," I manage to say, hoping my voice doesn't betray the thundering in my chest.

He sets down his iced americano and laptop, and I catch a whiff of his cologne – a subtle mix of vanilla and something woodsy. "I've seen you here before," he says, looking at me with genuine interest. "You're always in this exact spot."

I can't help but smile, surprised he's noticed. "It has the best lighting for writing," I explain, then immediately want to sink into my chair. Of course, I had to mention writing – now he'll probably ask what I'm working on, and I can't exactly tell him I write fanfiction.

But Chan's eyes light up. "You're a writer? That's amazing! I'm actually working on some lyrics myself." He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I've seen countless times in videos but feels surreal to witness in person.

The conversation flows naturally after that, like we've known each other for years rather than minutes. We talk about music, our creative processes, and our shared love for this little café. He doesn't act like the famous idol he is – he's just Chan, the boy with the kindest eyes I've ever seen and a laugh that makes my heart feel like it's dancing.

Hours pass like minutes, and before I know it, the sun is setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink through the café window. My coffee has long gone cold, forgotten in favor of our conversation.

"I have to head to the studio," he says finally, looking genuinely disappointed. "But... would it be okay if I joined you again tomorrow? Same time, same place?"

I try to keep my voice steady as I reply, "I'd like that."

As he packs up his things, he pauses. "You know, I've been coming here hoping to run into you for weeks. I just never had the courage to say hello until today."

He leaves me there, my heart soaring and my mind already counting down the hours until tomorrow. Maybe some fairytales do come true, even in the most ordinary of coffee shops.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Authors note: I hope this was a good first chapter let me know if I should continue this as a series!! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list🩷

Tag list:

@milkteabinniechan

[8isfatesunshine]

Hello, I’m Alex. I go by she/Her pronouns, I’m 23 and all of my content is 18+ minors are not allowed on my page bios have to have age or you will be blocked. All of my content is fiction or head cannons. My content is for entertainment purposes only. I’m from Canada Alberta, I’m a stay, atiny and a villain. I’m working on getting into some new groups as well, such as; BIGBANG, Seventeen, Got7, Enhypen, SHINee, xlov, blackpink, red velvet and (G) idle. My master lists will be tagged below when they are made

Ateez Masterlist:

Stray Kids Masterlist:

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[8isfatesunshine]

OKIE I HAVE A TITLE

Stars Weep For You My Darling

Omg ok so my messy brain has this beautifully messy idea of mixing the song Chemtrails by Lana Del Rey and To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before movies with an OT8 x Reader fic and it’ll be so angsty and romantic and just like main character energy and obviously have smut in it but it’ll be so beautiful and detailed and ughhh I need to write this my writers block is a bitch

[8isfatesunshine]

Omg ok so my messy brain has this beautifully messy idea of mixing the song Chemtrails by Lana Del Rey and To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before movies with an OT8 x Reader fic and it’ll be so angsty and romantic and just like main character energy and obviously have smut in it but it’ll be so beautiful and detailed and ughhh I need to write this my writers block is a bitch

[8isfatesunshine]

CHRISTOPHER I-WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO NOW?