#but like. guys. please. please reblog writing like you would art. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kryptonitejelly · 4 months

Note

art donaldson x childhood friend reader who he hasn’t seen in a long time (whose had a crazy glow up) visits him at stanford at the same time as patrick and patrick starts hitting on her (him and tashi are in an open relationship) and art gets jealous.

(maybe she tells patrick she knows he’s in a relationship and he tells her tashi wouldn’t mind and she would probably be down to join idk)

art donaldson x reader // challengers // fluff; happy ending

a/n: i did not hit the prompt on the head 100%, but i’m not mad at it. this ended up turning into a monster i had no control off and ended up being alot longer than i expected (i haven’t done a word count, and did not mean for it to spiral into this but i enjoyed writing this very much). i am an art donaldson defender and this is my way of giving him everything he deserves (i hope you guys can see what i subtly tried to do in places - please leave comments/reblog if you see them, it would mean the world). also i typed this entirely on my phone without proofreading - you’ve been warned.

edit - as a disclaimer, i do not purport to comment on the victim/villain/any dynamic in the challengers universe. this space is purely for delusional thoughts and fiction only (see also)

Good luck.

Art shoots the text off to you before taking a swig out of cup of diet coke he has in hand. He leans forward, his forearms on his knees, teeth crunching on ice cubes as lets his gaze sweep across the court in front of him. It is devoid of players but already has the umpire and linesmen ready and waiting.

You’ll buy dinner if I win?

Art doesn’t expect to get a text back, so he checks his phone absently, but his face breaks into a tiny grin as he sees your reply. Most other players would have been hyper focused in the moments before a match but you, in the breezy light hearted way you always were, still had it in you to joke around.

Yes, but if you lose…

Art sends his response, the tiny grin still on his face.

I’ll feed you.

Your reply is fast and it makes art shake his head lightly a quiet chuckle dropping from his lips. He is just about to type another reply but is interrupted by the loud cheers that erupt from around him. Art looks up from his phone to see Anna Davies walk out on court in the same colour red as he had on. He claps politely with the rest of the men’s team who he was sitting amongst in the stands, in a show of support.

Art catches sight of Tashi and Patrick, both perched a few rows down from him with the rest of the women’s team both clapping and hollering in support. He notices the turn of Patrick’s head, no doubt to check in on Art but he doesn’t tilt his head or smile back in acknowledgement as he usually would - he is far too distracted by you.

Art can feel his jaw slacken slightly as you walk on court. He knows what you look like, but you in the flesh - Art thinks you are breathtaking. Your top is in a shade of your college’s colour, paired with a white tennis skirt that shows off a pair of toned, long legs. He catches a glint of metal just above your ankle, and he finds himself squinting in a feeble attempt to make out the look of the ankle bracelet that you have on. Art moves his gaze your face, taking in what he can see from his perch on the stands as you walk out towards your designated bench on the court, bright neon green bottle in hand, your tennis bag slung on a shoulder.

You had been close back home for most of your childhood and more formative teen years, and the both had kept in touch since he left for Stanford and you to your own school of choice, but too infrequently - the occasional text, more frequent reaction or comment on each other’s social media and the small conversations that spiralled from those interactions - like two planets orbiting in the same solar system, but not close enough. Life had overtaken, the excitement of moving your separate ways to a new environment, of college - tennis, academics, people, parties, it had overwhelmed you both, individually and together - made you just about forget that you had each other.

Art is transfixed. You are, lithe, glowing and with a hop in your step - Art finds himself questioning why he had never made more effort to keep you closer since you had both gone on your separate paths. He watches as you settle your bag on the bench, turning your gaze to the stands, eyes narrowing from the glare of the sun as you search the stands, only for your gaze to fix on his. Art sees you smile, lips turning up as you wink directly at him. It makes a series of heads turn to look back at him - your fellow team mates, the small group of supporters from your college who had come along, and the Stanford women’s team plus Patrick, half curious, half puzzled. Art can only raise a hand beside his chest in greeting as he remembers to breathe, letting the air he had been holding in his chest out.

He sees turn away while reaching for your phone which you had wedged in between the band of your tennis skirt and skin. Your fingers flying over the keypad briefly before you toss the phone into your tennis bag, hand fishing out your racket. Art feels his phone buzz in his hand and he looks down at the text that had come through.

Stanford still hasn’t taught you the right way to wear a cap huh.

Your text, a reference to his penchant for securing his cap on backwards, makes Art laugh, out loud, the sudden sound causing his team mates to crane their necks in attempt to look at his phone. Art swats them away as he refocuses his attention back on you, watching as you do a few hops, shifting your body weight from side to side before walking to your position on court, racket in hand. You lose the coin toss, and Anna choose to serve and yet your demeanour is one of ease, something Art can’t help but think is so stark in contrast to Tashi before a match. You aren’t smiling anymore, and yet in an unexplainable fashion, Art can feel you smiling as you bend to ready position, your hands flipping the handle of the racket around, poised to receive. He sees Anna toss the ball, her back arching, hand shooting up, before she connects her serve, and he watches you receive it with ease, your body moving in a smooth motion as you hit it back. Your strokes have their own weight and intention behind them, they are careful, thought out - but what surprises Art is he sees little calculation behind each. Instead, he watches as you let yourself feel each shot, as you let your instinct take control with each step. Art sees himself moving pieces of chess across the court when he watches replays of his game, but with your game, - Art manages to see colour, life, ease. He sees something he hasn’t seen in his tennis since he had last played with you, Art sees fun.

The match isn’t long drawn out, you win - effortlessly, just as each of your strokes and movement are. It frustrates Anna, as is evident from the increasing number of unforced errors she makes on her art which leads to her swearing loudly as you easily hit the last heavy, driving it quick and to the opposite corner of the court from where she is positioned. Art finds himself clapping enthusiastically along with the crowd as the umpire calls the game.

“You never told me you had such good looking friends,” Art feels an arm sling itself around his neck, pulling him close as he stands outside the court, waiting for you to finish your match debrief with the rest of the team.

“Shouldn’t you be with Tashi?” Art questions as he tugs himself out and under, away from Patrick’s hold. His eyes remain focused on the door of the tennis court, waiting for you to emerge.

“Some strategy meeting,” Patrick offers as explanation, “refocusing or something like that.”

Art starts to say something in response only to be stopped by the view of you walking out from the courts. You both lock eyes, not too similar from how you had with you on the court and him on the stand. Art thinks that your smile is more brilliant up close.

Neither of you say a word, as you walk up to him, hands reaching up to tug his cap off his head only for you to pop it promptly on your own head, the right way around.

“The right way,” you say in greeting, pointing towards his cap which is now sitting on your head, the Stanford red a confusing contrast to your your top, now a loose fitting tshirt in your college colours, as Art chuckles while running a hand through his hair, attempting to shake out any flatness.

“The red looks good on you.”

“Perhaps I should transfer.”

“Didn’t peg you for a traitor,” Art teases which makes you laugh.

“Do I get a hug,” you ask, both of you oblivious to Patrick who is just watching.

“C’mere,” Art says, his words inviting, but just almost slightly shy as he opens his arms to you. You step into his embrace, arms slipping around his body as Art brings his arms around your shoulders, hands bumping into the tennis bag you have on your shoulders. His embrace is familiar, and you let yourself relax into his hold.

“Could I get a hug?” you hear a different male voice chime in and you pull away to look curiously at the brunette who is standing just beside you both.

“Fuck off Patrick,” you hear Art say with no bite, but notice as he steps just that one inch in front of you in an attempt to place himself as some sort of barrier between you and the brunette.

“Patrick Zweig,” the boy says, ignoring Art as he proffers a hand to you which you shake to be polite while introducing yourself.

“Do you go to Stanford as well?” You take in his attire of jeans and a white tee, the lack of red - you would guess not but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“I’m just visiting,” he says, “I’m actually playing on tour.”

“Losing on tour,” Art corrects.

“Your tennis is insane,” Patrick comments, ignoring Art, “when will I see you on tour?”

“I don’t intend on turning pro,” you respond with the flash of a smile.

“Why?” Patrick continues the conversation, now slightly befuddled, “you’re a natural.”

You shrug with a laugh, not answering and simply brushing off his question.

“Why don’t I take you to dinner and you can tell me why.” Patrick’s statement makes Art roll his eyes.

“Aren’t you taking your girlfriend our for dinner?” Art chips to which Patrick simply shrugs not phased in the slightest and answers with a no.

“Thanks, but I already have a dinner to cash in on,” you offer Patrick a smile, before glancing at Art.

“I’m sure Art wo-”

“Nope, fuck off Patrick,” is what Art says again, not even giving the other man a chance to finish his sentence. It makes you laugh, but you follow as Art grabs your hand, tugging you off in a direction away from Patrick.

“It was nice meeting you Patrick,” you call out, turning your head towards him giving him a wave with your free hand, “good luck on the tour!”

You walk for a minute or two more until the tennis courts are out of range before Art stops. He lets go off your hand, but reaches instead to grasp the top of the tennis bag on your shoulder. You raise a brow questioningly only to have him tug again with a slight tilt of his head. You relinquish the bag to him and he hoists it on his shoulder instead.

“What a gentleman,” you joke, but with a smile on your face.

Art does a mock bow with a flourish of his hand which makes you laugh with a shake of your head.

“Your chariot awaits my lady,” he extends a hand to you, waist still tilted in a bow, but his head up and looking at you.

“Lead the way,” you place your hand on top of his again.

“My car is that way,” he says jerking a thumb towards his right as he intertwines his fingers with yours. Its the second time in the day where he’s holding onto your hand but you don’t think too much of it and neither does Art. It feels right, comforting, familiar and like it’s supposed to be - and you go with it.

“Sorry about Patrick,” Art says as he fiddles with the paper casing of the straw. You are both sitting in a booth, plates cleared, your drinks left in front of you. Art is leaning back but being across him you can feel his knees knocking into yours. Dinner had gone by way too fast for Art’s liking. There had been both plenty to catch up on, as well as new information to learn and yet - it had felt like no time had passed between you both.

“He’s a bit of an ass isn’t he,” you say as you lean back, a mirror of Art. Your comment elicits a bark of laughter from him.

“Girls don’t usually say that about him.”

“What do they say?”

“Well not say, but they usually fall at his feet or into his bed,”

“No,” it makes you crinkle your nose while you shake your head.

“His girlfriend Tashi,” Art says, fingers still fiddling with the wrapper, “we played tennis for her number, she chose him.” Art said referencing the tennis match between him and Patrick. His sentence is blunt, to the point, and yet manages to be vulnerable at the same time. Art surprises himself as the words slip out from his lips so easily but it feels easy to tell you, safe to let himself be vulnerable, fine to let you view him for who he truly is.

You both sit in silence for a beat or two, the only sound between you both being the rustle of paper in Art’s fingers.

“Well,” you begin, “if she made you play for her number, maybe its for the better you didn’t win.”

Art’s fingers give pause and he looks up at you. His expression is unreadable, but you don’t feel like you’ve said anything wrong - just the obvious.

“I guess you are right,” he says after a few seconds of silence, before raising his head to look at you. There is a small smile on his face that you can’t quite place.

“When have I been wrong Donaldson?” You challenge in jest as you lift a leg under the table to jostle one of his lightly. Art leans forward, managing to capture one of your legs, your calf in the warmth of his palm.

“You really want me to start?” Art questions as you wriggle your leg in attempt to get away but no no avail.

“No.”

“Let’s see, the time we were six and you thought that the way to get strawberry milk was to dump pink food colouring in normal milk.”

“Stop,” you protest, but with a laugh on your lips.

“Or the time we were ten and you were convinced that the park we passed by on the way home from school was haunted and we had to sprint past that stretch of sidewalk for 3 whole months.”

“It was creepy!”

“How could we forget the one time we were thirteen and you thought that the way babies were made wa-”

“Arthur Donaldson,” you protest, managing to wrestle your leg out of his grasp which has grown looser with each anecdote. It allows you to set your foot on the ground, body shooting up to lean across the table, your palm coming to cover Art’s mouth to prevent him from announcing any further recollections from your youth.

You can feel his breath hot against the palm of your hand as his muffled laugher fills the space of your booth.

“Art,” you huff, relinquishing his full name for his nickname again. You move to drop your hand from his face, but Art catches a hold of your wrist. You sit back down, butt hitting the seat again, but with your hand still stretched across the table, wrist still loosely wrapped in one Art Donaldson’s hand. His shoulders are still shaking, now with a silent laughter.

“Art,” you try again.

“I’m sorry, it’s just so funny,” Art exhales, trying to collect himself as best as he can. He doesn’t remember the last time he laughed like this, freely and with such reckless abandon over something so innocent.

“Your dedicated court jester, always here to serve,” you mock with a roll of your eyes.

“You’ve been derelict in your duties,” Art says, now calm, but his eyes still twinkling under a mop of strawberry blonde hair. He keeps his tone light but what he really means to say is that it has been too long. You chuckle, not really having an answer for him.

“It’s been a while,” you finally admit, both your hands now resting on the table between you, you wrist now lying upturned in Art’s open palm. You had always been close

“It has, hasn’t it,” it isn’t really a question. Art has missed you - something he hasn’t realised until today. He had let himself be distracted by the complex, focused toxicity that was tennis, Patrick and Tashi, letting himself get sucked into the whirlpool, that he had forgotten to hold on to the things that grounded him.

“Maybe we should change that.”

“We should change that,” Art corrects you and you can feel the tips of your ears burning, and the skin across your cheek bones tingling for some reason.

You aren’t quite sure how ended up here, but one thing had lead to another as you both made your way out of the restaurant and back to Art’s car, and the next thing you knew you were heading back to his dorm to watch reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer for some reason.

“How do you not find her hot?” You ask again for the tenth time as you both focus on the screen of Art’s laptop which is perched half on his thigh and half on yours. You are both sitting on his bed, shoulder to shoulder, both of your heads damp from (separate) showers in Art’s ensuite, and you smelling quite like him from having used his toiletries and borrowing a short and shirt set, both of which which were a baggy fit for you.

“I don’t know, I just don’t.”

“You’re rubbish Donaldson,” you snort, nudging your elbow lightly into his ribs with a simultaneous yawn.

“Tired?” Art asks, as you stifle another yawn.

“Yeah,” you accept, seeing little point in trying to hide it. You had after all, played a match today.

“I should really get back to the hotel,” you mumble, the back of your head leaning against the wall beside Art’s bed, eyes closing.

“You could just stay here,” there is a hint of hesitation in his voice because he isn’t sure if you’ll stay.

“Here?”

“My bed’s a double,” Art shrugs, “it would also be quicker for you to get to the matches tomorrow.” You aren’t playing but Art knows you would be expected to show up as a supporter for the series of matches between your two schools that continued tomorrow.

“Are you sure?” You don’t mind, after all - it’s Art, the boy you had known growing up, shared milkshakes and apple slices with after school, but you wanted to be sure he was truly fine with it.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Art moves to shit his laptop, lifting himself to bend over the edge of the bed to place the laptop on the floor, “you can take the inside.”

He flops down on the outside of the bed that is further from the wall too easily, his right hand going behind his head. Him moving forces you to move in tandem as you flop down on Art’s left, legs scrambling under the covers which Art has somehow managed to worm his way under in the flurry of movement.

Art reaches a hand over, his arm extending over you in the process to hit the light switch that he has beside his bed. It plunges you both into darkness, the only light the faint glow from the street lamps creeping in from below his curtains, and the glow of his digital clock.

You flip onto your right side, eyes closed, missing the turn of Art’s head as he observes yours features, closed eyes, lashes, nose, lips, finding his gaze lingering a moment too long on your lips.

“Stop staring Art.”

“Am not.”

“I can feel it,” you respond, lips curving into a smirk. It was a habit he had developed from the sleepovers you both had either in his living room or yours when you were both younger. You would close your eyes, just about to doze off, only to hear the faint shifting of a head against a pillow while Art turned to stare at you, his blue-brown eyes boring into you.

“Am not.”

“Go to sleep Art.”

“So I guess I’ll see you around,” You are standing just a distance off the side of the bus which is supposed to take you back to campus. The matches for the day had ended, with your school having won by one match.

“Yeah,” Art replies, drawing out his words as he takes you in, he finds himself think that he had very much preferred you in his clothes despite them being oversized and not as well fitted as your own. You had managed to change into a fresh set of school colours before the matches started earlier that morning, having pleaded with your angel of a roommate to help you lug your overnight bag, which you hadn’t even had the chance to unpack the night before, over to the courts before the matches had begun. She had taken one look at you in Art’s tshirt, shorts with his hoodie thrown over, and had given you the widest smirk known to man despite your insistence that nothing had happened.

“I think you are scheduled to come play next month,” you refer to the Stanford men’s team, “I’ll see you then?”

“Or I could see you next week?” Art says almost shyly as he raises a hand to rub the back of his head. Art was a walking oxymoron, easily grabbing your hand, asking you to sleep in his bed, and yet somewhat bashful in the moments in between, “the drive over is an hour, max.”

“I would like that,” your response earns you a mega watt smile, his eyes twinkling at you. You both hear voices calling Art away from the bus, one male, one female - but Art ignores them both.

“Yeah and I told her-” your sentence is cut off by a nudge to your shoulder.

“Stanford” you friend explains with slightly too much glee in her voice. She had seen the smile on your face after returning from your away game last weekend, and the way you had been constantly glued to your phone, grin on your face, laughter peppering your days, the name Art Donaldson a constant fixture in your notifications.

Your head swivels up and to your left to spot Art leaning against his black jeep, hands crossed loosely across his chest. He smiles when he sees you, and your face mimics his expression.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” you friend calls out as she pushes you in Art’s direction. You pull a face at her while rolling your eyes, but letting your legs carry you towards Art.

“Are you stalking me Donaldson?” You ask in jest. Art had texted you half an hour earlier, asking which part of campus your last class of the Friday was in and where he should pick you up from.

“Hundred percent,” he says as he opens his arms; you step into his embrace for a brief hug, before he turns to open the car door for you. You unload your bag from your arm, dropping it onto the floor of the passenger’s seat before climbing in. You move to close the door, but Art is in between you and the door, reaching over to click your seatbelt into place.

“Ready?” He asks, and you nod, gazing into bright blue-brown eyes.

“Positivism,” Art says simply at your question of what theory of jurisprudence he found himself most inclined towards. You think for a moment, the side of your face propped up with a hand, elbow on the counter of the bar you both are seated at, your body turned towards Art who is likewise, facing you.

“Positivism,” you roll the words around your tongue, “I guess it tracks,” you shrug, before raising a brow slightly, “but how does an engineering undergraduate so much about jurisprudence?”

“I read.”

“On jurisprudence?” You frown nose wrinkling as you reach your hand out to place the back of it against Art’s forehead as if to check if he had a fever, “are you alright?”

“You mean you don’t read engineering daily in between sets?” Art questions you with mock horror as he reaches up to tug your hand down from his forehead. Your hand ends up, yet again, in Art’s, which is resting on his knee.

“Why engineering, and not something with a lighter course load?” The underlying question is clear - Art had every intent of going the pro track post-Stanford, and it wasn’t that he would be making full use of his degree anyway.

“I don’t want the only skill I have to be hitting a ball with a racket,” he shrugs, “it feels good to know I can do something else.”

You hum in bother understanding and agreement as you feel Art’s thumb begin to stroke the back of your hand. It distracts you, his calloused thumb sliding across your skin.

“In another life I’m sure you would have made a darn good engineer Art Donaldson.”

Your words make Art laugh, something he found himself doing a lot with you.

“So, this is me,” you point towards the dormitory buildings up in front and Art slows his car to a stop, pulling the gear into park. He kills the engine before hopping out of his seat. Your hand is on the handle of the door, ready to open it for yourself but Art is faster, his hand on the outside lever, pulling the door open for you.

Art offers you a hand as you hop out of the jeep before he shuts the door behind you.

“I had fun tonight,” you find yourself saying, suddenly feeling slightly shy for reasons you cannot fathom.

“Me too,” is what Art says in response, his hands stuck on the pockets of his jeans, heels rocking in a back and forth motion. You see his gaze on you, locking with yours before flickering to your lips. It makes you bite down one on side of your lip, an action which causes Art to gulp, making the Adam’s apple on his throat bob.

“We should do-”

“Can I kiss you?” Art blurts out his question in a burst and you can see his face flush slightly as he asks, a surprising and yet apt contrast to the Art who had no qualms about holding your hand in his. You feel your heart quickening, and with the silence between you both - you almost feel as if you can hear each beat.

“Yes,” you breathe out, a small nod accompanying your response. You see Art’s gaze flicker to your lips again, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about this.

Art takes a step forward, pulling his hands out of his pockets. You feel him cupping your face gently, and you tilt your head towards him. Your eyes flutter close and your lips meet.

Art’s lips are softer than you imagined. You feel his hands move, slipping down the sides of your body, circling your waist and pulling you closer. You drop your bag off your shoulder onto the floor as your hands move up, one to cradle the side of his face, and the other reaching behind, fingers weaving into soft curls as you tug him closer towards you. First kisses with someone new had always been awkward for you - teeth, lips, noses, as you each try to figure out the grooves and crannies of each other, but with Art - there was no such thing. It felt as if you both had learnt each other long ago, each in and out, the curve of his neck, and the the planes of your body.

You break the kiss first, pulling away, eyes still closed, feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of you in the best way. Your forehead pressed against Art’s, body held firmly against his.

“I hope you aren’t going to send me packing after that.” Your eyes flutter open at his words.

“You packed an overnight bag didn’t you?”

“I might have,” Art pulls you even closer, his arms wound tight around you.

“Presumptuous much?” You run a hand through the front of his hair, pushing his fringe back.

“Just good at reading the room.”

12 years later

The skin across your knuckles are visibly tight, your hands clenched into fists, the only sign of the nerves that have taken over and riddled your body. Your eyes are shielded by dark oversized glasses, but your pupils are darting left and right as the final point of the match plays before you. The stadium is silent, save for the pop of the ball and the grunts from the two players on court. You hear an exceptionally loud grunt, the whizzing of a racket whipping through the air, and then you hear it before it hits you - the roar of the crowd, the thundering claps, and you feel your body freeze as even the announcer goes wild.

“Art Donaldson, ladies and gentleman, our new US Open champion.”

You remain glued to your seat despite the commotion around you - family, Art’s team, cheering, jumping, excited hugs being passed around. Your eyes watch as Art runs towards the center of the net, hand raised as he waves to the crowd around. He shakes his opponents hand, before waving to each section of the stadium in thanks of their support and there he is, jogging towards you. His hair is dripping with sweat, plastered to his head, shirt clinging to his body. He extends a hand to you even before he reaches the sideline and your body reacts from habit, standing, your hand extending back towards him. A warm hand, the back of it still slick from sweat grasps yours, tugging you forward lightly.

“Hi,” is all he says as Art’s lips meet yours. Art enjoys the tennis, but he doesn’t need it - doesn’t need the tennis, the fame, the money, or the trophies - all he needs is you.

You hear the crowd go wild at the display of affection, the announcer’s voice booming over the sound system with something about Art Donaldson and his wife, but it all fades - the commotion, the sound, the people, the tennis, because all you see is Art.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#art donaldson #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x y/n #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson fic #art donaldson fanfic #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson x female reader #challengers #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #challengers imagine #not cm #not tg

2K notes · View notes

cherriegyuu · 1 month

Text

so high school | kmg | part 1

pairing: hockey player mingyu x f!reader genre: smut (in later part), fluff, a bit of angst, bad attempt at comedy word count: 8.8k summary: when you’re suddenly thrown in Mingyu’s direction, you have no choice but to stay by his side, and maybe it’s not as bad as you think playlist: click here a/n: i wanted to write a story that was light, summeryish. it was based off of taylor swift’s song so high school (i’m not that creative with names), i wanted to write that sort of cute romance we all just love. i truly hope you like it, this one is precious to me. thank you to @joonsytip for helping me with this one. please, remember to comment and reblog, it does mean the world to me and i would love to know your opnions.

< part two >

If there was one thing you hated about college, it was having to choose electives. For starters, you really didn’t want to be there. You were a good student because you had no choice, not because you absolutely loved college — not that your major was boring and you hated everything about it, but it really did seem like a universal experience to hate your chosen major at some point in college. But the problem was that taking the courses related to your major was hard enough as it was, you didn’t want to have to worry about subjects that might or might not add to what you were studying. Of course, you always tried to choose something that had at least a minimum to do with your major — Art History.

But there were times, like the previous semester when you procrastinated too much to choose one, that it simply wasn’t possible, and you had to put up with classes on Cultural Management. At first, you thought it would be geared towards galleries and the like, but it was something much more specific about public cultural heritage and that wasn’t what you wanted. At least the subject was easy enough. Just reading a few pages of Kira’s notes and listening to half of the lectures was enough to get you through with a high grade.

Trying to be a little smarter, and do something you actually enjoyed doing, you signed up for the semester’s classes as soon as they opened. You were already sitting in front of your computer when the clock struck 10 am. You chose a class that all of your classmates, or at least the ones you talked to, were interested in doing: Model Making.

It was something you enjoyed doing when you were younger. Your parents knew that if you simply disappeared or were too quiet — aka you weren’t yelling at Jeonghan — you’d be in your room surrounded by modeling clay, chopsticks, glue, brushes, and paint, or whatever materials you were using at the time.

However, all of your dreams were shattered when you ran into Kira at the campus entrance.

“You know, the teacher for this class is crazy. Your life is going to be hell” was like a cold shower.

After that, it was as if everywhere you went, people were purposefully talking about the subject, about how the teacher was absolutely crazy and that getting a good grade with her was almost impossible, and how she “seems to take a sick pleasure in failing students.” So when the day of class finally arrived, the first of the next six hellish months, you dragged yourself into the classroom. You chose the seat furthest away from her, hidden behind a student, and did your best to stay as out of sight as possible.

The guy sitting in front of you turned around. He was smiling widely. You weren’t sure if he was trying to be friendly or what.

“Do you know if what everyone’s saying is true?”

There was something about him that was familiar. You obviously knew who he was, it was no secret. Everywhere you went, people were either whispering about him or there was a picture of him and the other guys on the team taped to the wall.

Kim Mingyu, star of the ice hockey team. The youngest to become captain, top scorer, the big sensation who would lead the university to the long-awaited championship. All that blah blah blah about the chosen athlete, and the latest savior of the nation.

So yes, you knew who he was, there was no way you couldn't know. But at that specific moment, while he was sitting in front of you, his body turned in the chair at a strange angle because he was obviously too big for that tiny chair, there was something about him that was strangely familiar.

"That the teacher is crazy?" he nodded, his eyebrows slightly arched and his lips almost forming a pout "I haven't heard anyone say otherwise, so I have no choice but to believe it."

You lowered your eyes and focused on the lit screen of your cell phone, which showed a new message from your brother. You didn't look away because you wanted to know what Jeonghan wanted, as far as you were concerned his message would only be read at the end of the day, if that. You didn't want to keep looking at Mingyu when you felt that everyone in the classroom was looking at you.

You knew it wasn't exactly true, there was no way an entire class, full of students talking to each other, could be looking at you at the same time as if you were doing something scandalous or even remotely wrong. But you knew there were a few people, and that was more than enough. It was a very familiar feeling, one you preferred not to revisit.

Even though you completely ignored Mingyu's presence or his gaze on you, he still hadn't turned around. Not even when the teacher entered the room and everyone fell silent.

The problem with being a child who didn’t have many experiences is that you become a fearful person. Everything seems big, larger than life, and sometimes everything seems infinite and far beyond reach. It’s a much easier choice to retreat into that familiar corner and pretend the world outside simply doesn’t exist. The bubble you created for yourself was small and admittedly, sometimes suffocating, but it was also comforting.

But everything can change when you meet people who aren’t aware of that bubble, or who didn’t create those spaces for themselves. They weren’t trapped inside it.

One class was more than enough to start a crack in your perfectly intact bubble. A selective introvert, as you liked to say. For a loud hockey player when he was surrounded by his friends, Seokmin was strangely shy.

When the teacher was choosing the pairs, you closed your eyes, praying to anyone who would listen not to pair you with a bad student, someone who wouldn't do anything and you would have to do all the work alone. The prayer, or whatever it was, was not heard because the teacher decided it would be a great idea to pair you and Seokmin. Maybe you were under the wrong impression, falling into the old suspicions and stereotypes, but you doubted very much that you would be able to get any kind of help from Seokmin.

And to be quite honest, after a bad experience with a group mate, to the point of ending up at the police station, because the guy simply couldn't accept the fact that you taking his name off the work was completely his fault and you simply didn't think it was fair that you did everything alone and he still got a good grade, you were okay with doing everything on your own. You were sure that if you opened your email, and clicked on your spam box because God was a witness to the number of emails you had received from that idiot, there would probably still be some unread emails from him, bragging that even with your “attempt” to jeopardize his education, he had managed to get a good enough grade to pass the class.

Despite everything, Seokmin was nice and seemed interested enough, although a little lost, but maybe a little push in the right direction would be enough.

“I took this class because I thought it would be easy,” he said laughing, a little shy, “I guess I was wrong.”

You nodded, absentmindedly turning the page of your notebook with the notes you had made.

“I took it because I like the idea of building models.”

The classroom door opened with a bang, slamming against the wall. Everyone turned to him, some girls laughing. Mingyu was obviously late, his hair still wet from the shower, his backpack inside out on his shoulder, his shirt completely wrinkled as if it had just come out of a cow’s mouth. The teacher stood up and walked towards him slowly, her arms crossed over her chest.

“He’s screwed.” Seokmin laughed softly, or as softly as he could.

The teacher didn’t have a welcoming look in her eyes, if anything she seemed to be glaring at Mingyu, and not even the best smile he could throw in her direction would make a difference. In addition to being crazy, the teacher was also apparently known for not accepting tardiness.

It was impossible to look away as Mingyu tried, without any success, to open his mouth to explain, but the teacher wouldn’t let him say a single word. You and Seokmin suppressed a laugh when the teacher looked in the direction where she thought the noise was coming from before turning back to Mingyu, who seemed more desperate by the second. He looked lost standing in front of the older woman, his head lowered like a child who had misbehaved and was listening to a lecture.

Finally, the teacher dismissed him with a wave of her hands and turned back to her desk, completely ignoring Mingyu. He finally turned back to the desks, his eyes scanning the space before finally settling on Seokmin. Or… on you? There was no reason to believe he was looking at you, none at all. When Mingyu smiled, you went back to looking at your notes, flipping the pages almost compulsively, looking for anything and nothing.

You had no idea why your heart was behaving like that, beating almost animalistically inside your chest, or why you felt a single drop of sweat run down your spine — despite the air conditioning being on and you feeling cold. You could have sworn you could hear Mingyu’s footsteps going up the stairs, despite the sound of the students’ conversations around you being obviously much louder.

“At least I got something good for being late today.”

Mingyu pulled out the empty chair next to you and sat down, his knee bumping against yours. You flinched a little and moved away, making yourself closer to Seokmin.

“Sorry,” you said to Seokmin and turned to Mingyu. “Could you…?”

You waved your hand to make him move away. He looked confused for a second until he pushed the chair further away from you. On the other side, Seokmin covered his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh, while Mingyu glared at him.

“The teacher who chose your group?” Seokmin asked, still trying to suppress a laugh.

“She just said to sit with whoever wasn’t already in a trio”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Great, you were stuck with two jocks who had probably hit their heads on the ice so much that their brains had turned to jelly in their early twenties.

“What do we have to do?”

“Build 3 models based on architectural periods.” When Mingyu widened his eyes, you added, “It’s the entire semester’s work. We don’t even have to come to class anymore, just the last one to hand it in.”

You started gathering the few materials you had taken out of your bag. The notebook and pen quickly disappeared into what Jeonghan called a black hole. “What goes in there never comes out again. If you look hard enough, you’ll find a wallet I lost in high school.”

“Look, I know I’m going to do this alone. I'll find a way to let you know the periods I chose and the artists and you guys study for the presentation.”

You stood up, pushing the chair back with your knees, making a lot more noise than expected, which in turn made most of the people turn to see what was happening, including the teacher.

“Wait,” Mingyu said, holding the strap of your bag.

Not that you could get out of there anyway, he was between you and any possibility of leaving. But you thought he would get out of the way if he saw that you wanted to leave.

“I'll help, it's my job too,” with his free hand, he pointed to Seokmin behind you. “Ours, actually.”

Despite the sincere look on his face, you laughed.

“Look, I don't want to offend you guys, okay? But the three of us know that won't happen. There will always be a practice, a game, a party, something that will stop you from doing your part of the work. I don’t mind doing it alone, it won’t be the first time, and considering I still have two more semesters to go, it won’t be the last. It’s okay, really.”

Mingyu stood up and for a moment you were sure he was going to get out of your way, but somehow he managed to block your path even more. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had always been this tall and wide. When he was around the other players it didn’t seem like it, but him standing in front of you…

“I said we’ll help”

He took his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, turning the device towards you.

“You know, your hands are huge, and this is a very delicate job” What exactly were you talking about?

“He’s more skilled than you can imagine,” Seokmin said.

Once again, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. The teacher was definitely crazy, and it seemed like she had some kind of personal vendetta against you. Or was it a curse cast by Jeonghan for staining his white shirts? Whatever it was, it was a problem that, at the moment, had no obvious solution.

“If I fail this class because of you two idiots, maybe one of you will lose a hand.” You snatched the phone from Mingyu’s hand, dialed your number, and quickly handed it back. “Maybe both of you”

You put your hand on Mingyu’s shoulder and pushed him back. You tried your best to avoid any kind of contact, but it was the only solution you could find to pass.

“It’s not a matter of life or death, you know?” he said, laughing.

“I’ve never failed in my life, and I’m not going to start now.”

Mingyu pushed the door open with perhaps a little more force than necessary. He wasn't angry, but he wasn't happy either, a strange feeling somewhere in between that he didn't like very much.

That first day he had seen you in class was like he had been transported back to high school. He could almost hear you saying, in the most disinterested tone in the world, "I've been waiting for you for two hours, could we please go home?" At that time he had also felt invisible to your eyes.

But so many years later, in that classroom, he thought you would recognize him. Mingyu thought, as naive as it may seem, that despite your disinterest at the time, at least you would know who he was.

Of all the people he could meet in that class, you were the last one that ever crossed his mind. It had been years since he had last seen you, since Jeonghan's last game, when he was crowned champion for the third time - an unprecedented feat until that moment. Mingyu had even tried to beat that record, but his runner-up position in the third year had prevented him from doing so.

He had gotten used to seeing you from afar, always the unreachable sister of his captain, who always seemed to be much more interested in the books you carried around with you than in anything else.

The truth was that you had never even directed a word in Mingyu's direction. Besides Jeonghan, he had only seen you talk to one other person, Seungcheol. It had never been clear to him if it was by choice or if it was because Jeonghan always said you were off-limits. Maybe it was somewhere in between.

However, when you entered the room, looking for an empty chair, Mingyu expected you to recognize him, even though so many years had passed. When you walked up the stairs and seemed to be heading towards him, Mingyu, like a silly teenager, expected you to at least greet him. But you walked right past him as if he wasn't even there.

Even so, he tried to talk to you. Something about the teacher being crazy and the look in your eyes said that you couldn't wait for him to shut up and look straight ahead again.

After that, it was like he saw you everywhere, and believe him, he wasn't looking for you. In the café that opened on the other side of the campus, in the library, when he went to return a book, in the hallway of the building, on the lawn. Mingyu spent five years without having any kind of contact with you and, suddenly, you were everywhere.

He chose to see it as a divine sign. As if the guy up there was saying "Now is your chance". And then, as if all these signs weren't enough, he was given the chance to do an assignment with you, almost like a gift.

"The door didn't do anything to you," Seokmin said laughing.

"Do you want to be the door?"

Maybe the divine signal was broken, maybe the guy up there was messing with him because in less than 5 minutes you managed to extinguish any and all excitement Mingyu could have about doing the assignment with you. All you had to do was open your mouth.

“Dude, she just doesn’t remember you” Seokmin laughed again, having a little too much fun with the whole situation “If you say, ‘hi, I was your brother’s teammate’, she’ll still not remember you, but maybe she’ll be less hostile”

Mingyu highly doubted that was the case. There was a rumor that you hated everything and anything that had to do with hockey, your patience was less than zero. Jeonghan was the king of the ice, the best the sport could produce. You were the ice princess without ever having even put on a pair of skates – or so the gossip said.

“It doesn’t bother me that she doesn’t remember me” It did bother him, but he wouldn’t admit it “It bothers me that she thinks I’m stupid”

Usually, under completely normal circumstances, Mingyu would even prefer to be seen as stupid and without anything in his head. It was easier, it prevented people from creating any kind of expectation about him. Strangely, he wanted you to see him as intelligent.

“You’re a bit contradictory, aren’t you? You’ve spent the last 3 years cultivating the image of a dumb athlete, who gets good grades by pure luck, despite the almost impossible subjects, but now you want her to think you’re smart”

“I didn’t know you knew how to use the word contradictory”

You stared at the lit screen of your cell phone. The unknown number was glowing and the inviting green button was almost begging you to answer the call. It was already the third time he had called and it would also be the third time you had ignored him.

“You know, it won’t hurt if you answer his call,” Kira said beside you, but she also knew that trying to convince you was a losing game.

Exactly 11 days had passed since the fateful class that had put you in a group with Seokmin and Mingyu. While you had no direct problems with either of them, besides them being hockey players, Mingyu’s insistence irritated you in a way that didn’t make much sense — not even to you. You should have felt relieved that he wanted to do the work, and that he was interested in participating. But the truth is that you knew how this worked, you had been in that situation before and hadn’t had the best experience.

Maybe you were a little too hard on him, it's true, but it's like the old saying goes: a scalded cat fears cold water.

“I want to keep as far away from him as possible.”

Kira rolled her eyes for what seemed like the twentieth time. She understood, to some extent, your dislike for players and also knew that a lot of it came from your brother, but in the case of Mingyu, specifically, you were definitely going too far.

“Look, the rumors are that he's a good student, actually. Always with high grades.” Kira tried to argue.

You knew the rumor well, even before you were put in the same group, in fact, much to your chagrin, Mingyu had chosen to be in the same group as you. That helped a lot with the huge reputation he had around the college. Handsome, athletic, good student. But you didn't believe it for a minute.

You didn’t know if Mingyu really had any good grades, but if he did, you were sure he hadn’t gotten them in the most… fairway.

“And he’s not unpleasant to look at at all.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes at him. Yes, Mingyu was gorgeous, breathtaking, the kind of guy that made you wonder if he was even real. You had eyes and they worked just fine, you didn’t need Kira to remind you that he was handsome. Saying Mingyu was handsome was like saying the sky was blue, obvious, and expected.

“You know I don’t mess with athletes.”

Finally, Mingyu had given up on the call, but that didn’t mean he had given up completely. Your phone only had a few seconds of respite before the screen lit up again, but this time with a ton of messages.

Unknown - 11:32

hi, it's mingyu

Unknown - 11:32

again

Unknown - 11:33

answer me, I want to talk about the project

Unknown - 11:34

you said you want to do it alone, but it's not going to happen, you know? I can't leave my grande in the hands of a complete stranger

Unknown - 11:35

I see you with your phone in your hand, take my call or reply to my texts

You lifted your head so quickly that you felt a twinge in your neck.

"Shit"

You looked around the cafe, trying to find Mingyu, but most of the tables were empty and none of the people standing in line looked remotely like him. You brought your face closer to the glass, trying to find the tall, broad figure, outside, and still didn't see anyone who could be mistaken for him.

yn - 11:37

I could report you for stalking

Unknown - 11:37

crime: wanting to do a college assignment

yn - 11:37

following me around, calling me non-stop, texting me. It could be considered stalking, yes

Unknown - 11:38

again, crime: wanting to do a school project

Unknown - 11:38

also, I wasn’t following you, I just happened to see you

yn - 11:38

I already said I'll do it alone

Unknown - 11:39

and I already said it won't happen, so if you could tell me your plan on how to do it, that would be great

“We have to admit, he's persistent”

Mingyu's messages became common and also at the most random moments possible. You were sure that the only time he hadn't sent a text was when he was at the game last Friday. You knew this because you had watched the game, with the computer with the sound turned down so that Jeonghan wouldn't suspect anything.

You hated to admit it, but he was good at what he did. Dared to say it was even glorious. It was hard to believe that a man of that size, so wide, could infiltrate the smallest spaces and score the most unbelievable goals possible. He and Seokmin together were almost magical. They still couldn't compare to the duo of Jeonghan and Seungcheol, but that was already a very high level to reach.

Mingyu had given up on sending you texts only about work, not that you had answered any of them, but he also started asking about your course, inviting you and Kira to go to one of his games – you still wondered how he had found out about your friendship since all of your social media profiles were locked and so were Kira's.

You had to agree with Kira, he was persistent. You could even say tireless. If you were him, you would probably have given up a long time ago, choosing to let the crazy guy do the work alone. But Mingyu was nowhere near giving up. You knew this because every time you miraculously ran into Mingyu, you had to run away from him, practically having to run away from him at some point.

It worked very well for a week until one day he simply appeared in front of you. You were distracted, your eyes glued to your phone. Jeonghan was gliding across the ice with skill when the player from the other team hit him hard, his body flying before falling to the ice. You felt the air get stuck in your lungs until he stood up, clearly irritated by what had happened. You felt like laughing when you saw the name on the other player's shirt, the one who had pushed Jeonghan. Choi. Best friends in real life, rivals on the ice.

“What are you looking at so focused?” a voice said next to him.

You felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest as you tried to lock your phone and put it back in the bag. You wished you had been more graceful in the whole situation, to look less like someone who had been caught red-handed doing something they shouldn't have.

“Jeez, do you have no manners?” your voice came out louder than expected, causing some people around him to turn to see what was happening.

Beside you, Mingyu smiled, pleased with himself for having gotten some reaction beyond furrowed eyebrows and a look of disgust.

“Were you running away from me?” he raised his hand and corrected himself, “Not right now because you clearly had no idea I was here, but in general.”

You rolled your eyes and quickened your pace. You didn’t really have anywhere to go or anything to do, there were still 50 minutes until your next class and there was no time to run home and hide. Would it be too pathetic to hide in the bathroom and wait for him to leave? With your luck, he would be waiting outside, even if it meant missing a class.

“Why would I do that?”

Mingyu crossed his arms over his chest. For the first time in your life, you wished someone was ugly, devoid of any kind of muscles or attractive qualities. You wished he was ugly, terrible to look at. You wished the sun wouldn’t make his skin shine, you wished you didn’t find the mole on the tip of his nose cute, wished you hadn’t wondered if maybe all this insistence of his didn’t have some extra reason, besides wanting to get the work done and obviously annoying you. Of all the things, you wished you hadn’t been disappointed when you hadn’t seen him for a day.

It was ridiculous, you knew it was. But whatever it may be, there you were, your heart pounding, feeling it throb in your neck. You wouldn’t fool yourself into thinking it was just because you were surprised by him suddenly being by your side. You could fool others, but at least you had to be fair to yourself.

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

Even though you knew it wasn’t a good idea, you stood still. You knew it would only attract more attention, it was almost inevitable when Mingyu was by your side.

“Okay, I was. I don’t want to be seen with you.”

Mingyu looked confused, his head lolling to the side as if he was seriously thinking about what was happening. The question mark was clearly written on his face. It was almost as if one was floating above his head.

“Mingyu, look. You, in and of yourself, are not the problem. I mean, in part, it is, but you know, it's that old story, the problem is me, not you.”

“I honestly thought the problem was just the assignment.” He scratched his head, his eyebrows still furrowed. “You think I'm stupid and that kind of thing.”

You took a deep breath, your eyes closed for a second. You hadn't explained the situation to him, you had no reason to, so he had no way of knowing. But you also didn't want to expose your life to a stranger, so you weren’t willing to just tell secrets you’d never said out loud.

“If I tell you I’ll let you guys do your part, will you stop following me? It’s a little weird, and maybe even a little creepy.”

Your words were honest, it was weird and creepy at the same time. It didn’t make sense. Wouldn’t it be much easier for him, and for Seokmin, to just let you do everything yourself so they could focus on whatever was important to them? In your opinion, it was the easiest thing for everyone.

But Mingyu looked like a dog with a bone. A terrible analogy, but it made sense, at least to you.

“Yes,” a direct answer, great.

“Let’s do it like this then, let’s chat via text about the artists we think are cool, which are the most interesting. Once we’ve reached a consensus, we’ll get together to start making the models.”

You took a step back and held out your hand. A peace offering.

“We have a deal then.”

If regret killed, you would have been dead and buried so long ago that you would have turned into fertilizer. Logically, you knew that trusting Jeonghan was a mistake. You loved your brother with all your heart, but you also knew that he wasn't the most trustworthy person for certain things.

If you were in trouble and needed help? He was definitely the right guy for the job. He wouldn't say a word in a judgmental tone and, depending on the situation, he would go far enough to pretend it never happened. Now, if it was a request that he considered silly, then it was a lost cause.

Besides all that, Jeonghan liked to play pranks, and you were one of his favorite victims. Things could even get a little out of hand when he and Seungcheol got together. It was like having two completely devilish older brothers. In truth, Seungcheol alone wasn't even that bad, but when he got together with Jeonghan it was like someone had opened the gates of hell.

Even knowing all this, you had talked to him. You knew the house was his, that he could come and go as he pleased, but thought that if you played the little sister card well enough he would let it go.

"Some friends from college are coming over tomorrow, can you please not show up at home?" you asked, making your best puppy-dog-that-fell-out-of-the-moving-truck face.

"You don’t want me to meet your boyfriend?" he laughed, looking away from his phone for a second before returning his attention to the device.

You closed your eyes. Something was going on. Jeonghan was really into his phone, much more than usual. Either some nonsensical rumor had been published, which he would have already shown you and laughed along with you when he read the absurdities written; or he had a bone in his body, also known as a girlfriend. He always got more into his phone when he had someone more serious in his life.

It was useful information to have, so you put it in a little box in your mind labeled "something to blackmail Jeonghan with later" For now it was just speculation, but it could be important.

"How many boyfriends do you think I have?" You grimaced, shaking your head. “But no, none of them are my boyfriend. They’re just some guys I have to work with. I thought about doing it here because we need space and I’m sure I’ll yell at one of them sooner or later.”

You weren’t in the habit of bringing people home. Jeonghan was a person who really liked his private life to remain that way, private. Even with Kira, who was your closest friend, you had a hard time taking her home. Not because Jeonghan had asked. He knew that if you were asking, it was because you needed to or because you trusted those people enough to know who your brother was without it becoming a problem.

In fact, you weren’t sure of anything, not that you needed them or that you could trust them. But Jeonghan wasn’t one of those celebrities who had huge photos of themselves scattered around the house. It’s a little creepy, to be honest, he had said once. So the few photos he had around the living room were in normal-sized picture frames, which his mother had put up when she visited, so they could be easily hidden. The lie about the rich brother who works in the stock market was always on the tip of your tongue in case someone could question why you lived in a penthouse.

"I don't understand what's wrong with me being here then" His indifferent tone of voice was dangerous.

Maybe it would be better to give up.

"First because I don't need supervision, the virginity ship sailed a long time ago"

It might be a good idea to talk about something he didn't like to talk about, like your past relationships. He could joke all he wanted, but at the end of the day, he was just a guy who didn't like knowing that his younger sister had boyfriends.

"For the love of god I don't need to know that in detail" He grimaced, pretending to vomit. He was such a good actor that he had even turned pale.

"And secondly, because they play hockey. Since there's no way they don't know who you are, I'd like to not witness another fanboy"

You knew you had said the wrong thing when you noticed that gleam in Jeonghan's eyes. Even his expression had changed when you told him that your groupmates played hockey.

Still, you chose to believe him when he said he would be out of the house all day, that he would even go to Seungcheol's house after practice — which you thought was a lie, considering the whole situation with not putting down his phone and running when a notification came in. He had gone as far as to say, “let me know when it's over, so I can come home.” That's why you sent a message to the group chat with Seokmin and Mingyu asking if they had Tuesday night off.

A part of you, a very big part, thought they would deny it and make up any excuse not to show up, but it was almost as if they both had their phones in their hands waiting for your message.

And so, the three of you were sitting at Jeonghan's huge dining table. It was the kind of furniture that existed only to take up space, you always ate in the kitchen.

“You live well” Seokmin commented.

It was funny, and almost cute, how completely clumsy he was. You had bought different types of materials to test, thinking about which one would work best. Seokmin had changed several times, the last attempt was the biscuit.

“My brother earns well” you shrugged, hoping he wouldn't ask anymore.

To your surprise, he didn't ask. Which was a relief, you didn't want to lie.

Even without looking up, you knew Mingyu was looking at you. He didn't try to hide it at all. It was uncomfortable, but at the same time, it was flattering.

You rested your chin on your hand and stared at him too. Ever since the first day you had seen him in class, you had the feeling that you knew him. You didn't know where from, you didn't know how. It wasn't from college, it wasn't from the posters spread around, or from the fame he had. It was from before, before college, but you didn't know where. You were sure he wasn't in any of the courses you took and he wasn't from your school either, there was no hockey team.

“Where do I know you from?” the words came from your lips, but it was a question asked much more to you than to him.

Mingyu simply tilted his head to the side and didn't say a single word. Seokmin, who until then had his head down, his brow furrowed in concentration trying to shape the white mass in his hands, looked up, almost startled by your words.

It was as if a light bulb had been turned on over your head. It was so ridiculously obvious that you would be able to kick yourself.

And with perfect timing, as if it had been sent from heaven, programmed to the exact seconds, you heard the living room door open. A second later, Jeonghan was in the room.

“Mingyu?” Jeonghan said, his eyes darting from side to side, trying to understand what was happening.

“Captain,” Mingyu said, smiling.

You wished a hole the size of Mount Everest would open up beneath your feet and swallow you whole as you watched Mingyu stand up and greet Jeonghan as if they were old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years.

That was obviously true.

“You know each other” It wasn’t a question, it was a simple statement.

“Yes? Mingyu is a few years younger, but we played on the same team.”

Suddenly a brief movie flashed through your head, of all the times you had seen Mingyu — or at least the times that were never erased. Mingyu walking next to Jeonghan one of the times you were waiting for your brother in the school parking lot, him at the games, sitting on the bench completely irritated by the fact that he couldn’t play and the team was losing. He was a boy who was clearly too skinny, but somehow he had become that man in front of you.

“She doesn’t remember me,” Mingyu said with a laugh.

Was that a hint of resentment you heard in his voice? You hoped not, but maybe if you were in his shoes you would be resentful too. You hoped he hadn’t talked to you that first day because he expected you to recognize him and every time after that. Because most of the time you had been a complete jerk to him.

“Wow, you saw him literally every day for at least two years.”

It wasn’t like you weren’t already embarrassed enough on your own, of course, Jeonghan, in his best big brother role, had to add fuel to the fire. You hoped your cheeks weren’t as red as you felt them hot.

If the smile on Mingyu’s lips was any indication, you were completely screwed.

“I only remember Cheol. He was the only one you let get close to me.”

It was a futile attempt to defend yourself, but it was the only excuse you had. It was also the truth.

“That’s true,” Mingyu agreed, sitting back down.

It wasn’t a big secret that Jeonghan had forbidden all his teammates from getting close to you. It wasn’t like you desperately wanted their company anyway, so it was a win-win arrangement.

“You were a pain in the ass,” which was just another shovel of dirt for someone who was already buried, right?

“I was protecting you? The guys on the team…” he tried to defend himself, feigning offense.

You simply waved your hand at him, dismissing any kind of explanation he might have offered.

“They were teenagers full of testosterone and hormones. Not much has changed, you know.”

The three of them were startled when Seokmin slammed the table, his eyes wide as he stared at Jeonghan. For a few minutes, you had forgotten he was there.

“You are Yoon Jeonghan’s sister?” His voice had suddenly become shrill to the point of echoing in the room.

The laugh that escaped your lips was partly incredulous and partly desperate. Mingyu remembered you, but he hadn’t told anyone—not even his teammate—probably because he remembered it was something you kept people from knowing. In a way, you knew your secret's safe with him. But you didn’t know if you could trust Seokmin in the same way.

“He’s kind of slow sometimes.”

Mingyu pushed Seokmin out the door, hoping he would finally stop talking. His friend hadn’t realized the discomfort he had caused you yet. Jeonghan, as always, didn’t seem to care and on some level, he actually seemed to enjoy all the attention he was getting.

“It’s been a while since someone got this excited to see me,” he said, laughing when Seokmin went to the bathroom.

Either Jeonghan hadn’t realized how quiet you had been, or he had simply chosen not to do anything about it. Mingyu couldn’t be sure of the older man’s intentions, not at that moment or when they were still at school.

But you? You were like an open book, almost begging to be read. You obviously didn’t say a word, but your face showed how uncomfortable you were with the whole situation, how embarrassed you were for not remembering Mingyu as soon as you saw him.

Without you noticing, Mingyu spent a lot of time observing you. In a way, it was easy to know what you were thinking. Of course, a lot had changed in the years you hadn't seen each other, but many things were still the same.

“He won't tell anyone about your brother.”

Mingyu pushed Seokmin again, this time towards the elevator, and turned to you, who was holding the door, your gaze almost lost.

“It's okay.” you took a deep breath before straightening your spine and forcing a smile. “Eventually, everyone will know.”

He shook his head and put his hand on your shoulder, leaning his body forward slightly so his eyes were leveled with yours.

“You have my word,” he promised, voice low “Seokmin won't open his mouth. Your secret will still be a secret.”

You nodded, but Mingyu knew the gesture was just to make him leave faster.

“You should go,” you said before closing the door, without waiting for Mingyu's response.

If he could, he would suffocate Seokmin right there in the hallway, but then the security cameras would see him and that would become a problem. He entered the elevator in silence and pressed the button for the ground floor. Beside him, Seokmin was practically thrilled with the discovery he had made an hour ago.

“When you said you knew her from your old school, I would never have imagined that,” he said, laughing. “I thought she was a girl who went to the same school as you.”

Mingyu chose to remain silent. He expected Seokmin to eventually get tired and simply stop talking, but he should have known better. His friend had too much energy to simply stop. In fact, it was a surprise that he had managed to stay quiet for two hours before Jeonghan arrived. And even after he arrived, Seokmin had remained standing in the same place. He spoke faster than ever and looked at Jeonghan as if he were seeing a god in person, but still, standing in the same place.

God knew it was almost impossible to convince Seokmin to stay still for long.

“I don’t understand why she hides the fact that she’s his sister. It’s basically the nicest thing anyone can say. Imagine going around saying ‘my brother is Yoon Jeonghan’”

Mingyu sighed and crossed his arms and sighed, rolling his eyes. Of course, he would.

“Remember that time your sister complained that a girl tried to befriend her because she wanted to go out with you?”

“It happened a few times, actually.”

Mingyu stayed silent, waiting for all the dots to connect in Seokmin’s head without him having to actually say the words. Under normal circumstances, Seokmin would have understood and kept quiet, but he was too excited after meeting an idol god to realize the full context Mingyu was trying to give him.

“That happens to her all the time. She didn’t even go to the same school as us. She really does everything so no one knows she’s his sister. Didn’t you notice there’s no picture of them at home?”

Seokmin laughed, as if the question was too stupid, causing Mingyu to narrow his eyes.

“Dude, you’re the one who’s into her, not me. I don’t care about whose picture is in her house.”

Would anyone find it a problem if Mingyu strangled Seokmin until he passed out and then took him back home? In Mingyu’s eyes, he would be doing everyone around him a favor. It would be a night of silence and peace for everyone involved — in this case, just him, but no one needed to know about it.

“Either way, you can’t tell anyone about this,” he warned once more.

He had made a promise to you and he would rather cut off an arm than break it.

“Not even to the team?”

Mingyu scratched his head before crossing his arms again, with much more force than necessary. Finally, the elevator reached the ground floor and Seokmin was faster than Mingyu to get out, almost running down the hall to the gate.

Mingyu briefly greeted the doorman with a nod before following his friend.

“Especially to the team. No one can know. It's like a federal secret, you know?”

Mingyu grabbed Seokmin by the arm, making his friend stop and look at him. He hoped it would be enough for him to understand that he wasn't kidding, that it wasn't some kind of joke.

"Jeez, so much drama."

He got away from his friend and quickly opened the car door and got into the passenger seat.

Once again, Mingyu took a deep breath, his eyes closed. Maybe he shouldn't have promised you anything, not when the promise had nothing to do with him, and when there was a possibility of everything going wrong, then he would have to bear the burden of someone else's mistake.

"Seokmin," your voice was a warning tone. He opened the car door.

"I won't say anything!" his friend almost shouted.

"You're terrible at keeping secrets," he sighed, almost defeated.

"Nobody knows that you're actually super smart," Seokmin scoffed. "I never told on you, you know."

When you finally managed to get Mingyu and Seokmin to leave, you were beyond exhausted. It was late, already past 10 pm and you had to wake up early for class the next day. At least you would fall into bed without much trouble and you were sure that you would black out almost instantly. Except for the idea that from that moment on it was likely that the entire college would know who your brother was.

You always knew that this day would come, you just hoped it wouldn't be during college, a college that had a good hockey team — well, it was almost unfair, they were fantastic — and that lived and breathed the sport. If the news really needed to get out, you wanted it to happen when you were far away from there, in an environment where few people would like the sport. Of course, you were living off stereotypes, but you preferred to believe that you wouldn't have many colleagues who liked the sport, or that if they did, they would be indifferent.

With a sigh, you began to gather the materials that were scattered around the table, cleaning up the mess left behind. Seokmin wasn't wrong when he said that Mingyu was more skilled than expected. The prototype he made was delicate and almost perfect. Working with him wouldn't be complicated at all. With Seokmin too. He was more absent-minded, but he wasn't bad either. He could do the rough part of the work and you would refine it until it was perfect.

“Sis”

Jeonghan's voice sounded behind you and you chose not to answer. You were irritated with him for so many reasons that you didn't even know where to start, or what to say to him. You had made it explicitly clear why you didn't want him home. And, although he had never necessarily liked your reasons, Jeonghan had always respected you. If you said you didn't want something, he accepted it. But this time he had crossed all the limits.

“Sister” he tried again, this time a step closer to you.

You rested your hands on the table and leaned your body forward.

“You know, I know that I live in your house, that you’re the one paying for my college, and that all the comfort I have here is because you pay for everything, so you can kind of do whatever you want. But this is my life.”

You continued to put the things in the box and went to your room. You didn’t close the door because you knew Jeonghan would follow you.

“I don’t understand what’s wrong with people knowing that I’m your brother.”

You shook your head as you sat on the bed. He clearly didn’t understand, he never had, but he had always respected it. Apparently not anymore.

“It’s not middle school anymore and you’re not 13 anymore. Just tell them all to go to hell,” he tried to reason, sitting in front of you.

Jeonghan’s eyes were affectionate, without a hint of judgment. He just wanted to understand what was going on, because it was so important to you that people didn’t know.

“I didn’t change schools because girls were all over me because they wanted your number. I can’t say it didn’t affect my decision and it was the perfect excuse. But that wasn’t all.”

You didn’t know how to continue, didn’t know how to say everything without Jeonghan getting upset. Because you were sure he would.

“I didn’t want to be compared to you anymore.”

Your voice was almost a whisper and you didn’t dare look up, or in Jeonghan’s direction. You didn’t want to see the look of disappointment on his face, because you knew he would be disappointed. Not because you were feeling that way, but because you never told him anything.

“The teachers always talked about how smart you were, that despite sports you always got good grades. And I remember how you were back then, and you barely tried, but you were good at everything. I tried so hard and it was never enough.”

With each word that left your mouth, your voice got lower and weaker. When you said the words out loud, when they weren’t just cloistered in your mind anymore, they sounded almost pathetic. Jeonghan had never put any kind of pressure on you, quite the opposite. Your brother always made sure that you were you, an individual different from him.

All the ideas and traumas you had were not directly caused by Jeonghan but somehow had to do with him.

Jeonghan sighed loudly and leaned forward until he could hold your hand.

“Being good at school doesn’t mean anything, it’s just school. No one cares about it after a while.”

The laugh you let out was one of complete mockery. Jeonghan really had no idea what could be going through your head, the things that had happened and were still happening. Not that you blamed him for that, he had no way of knowing if you didn’t tell him what was going on, but part of you just wanted him to pay attention. If he paid attention, even the slightest bit, he would know.

The fact that he didn’t understand was painful.

If it were just the school teachers, it would be fine. Like he said, no one cares about school after a while. Do you know who cares about school, regardless of the moment? Parents. Parents who aren't necessarily bad, just parents who think that comparing one child to another is an excellent incentive. An incentive so good that they still do it.

Deep down you know that it's not out of malice, that it's not because they want to see you down, but it's an inevitable consequence. And, in a way, they were already so intrinsic in the conversations, little notes that didn't even seem like real comments, that you were sure that Jeonghan didn't even notice them.

"Okay," you said, just wanting to end the conversation. "I'll talk to both of them tomorrow, and apologize to Mingyu."

Jeonghan nodded, knowing full well that the conversation was over and that even if he pressed, he wouldn't be able to get anything else out of you.

"I have to leave early tomorrow," he said, "but if you want, can we have dinner together and talk about it?"

"I'll accept dinner, but I'll skip the talk."

taglist: @wonwooz1-blog, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @belladaises, @immabecreepin, @miriamxsworld , @aaniag , @byunparklimchoi , @k-drama-adict , @maiamorrrrrrrrrrrr, @roguesthetic , @sofix-hc7 , @moonlightgrleric, @mixling-blog , @haowonbins , @valgracia , @slut4donghyuck , @muantuankim, @shuabby1994 , @sukiscones, @Plumings, @aaasia_111, @bouclesdefeu , @hyangg11, @sea-moon-star , @writingbarnes @strawberryroseee , @lovely-fics-for-me, @lixisoul99, @jjeongddol , @whoa-jo , @poiibbtt , @seokqt , @palmsugr , @hyneyedfiz , @ho34gojo , @Lixisoul99, @babybae-shisui , @wmewtew , @cixrosie , @dxntletmegxyoonie

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog and leave a comment, it really does mean the world to me and i would love to know your thoughts. thank you! 💕

if you want to be tagged in my next fics, please fill out this form

you can read my other fics here ➝ masterlist

#svthub #svt x reader #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu fluff #mingyu #mingyu fluff #kim mingyu #seventeen #svt fluff #seventeen fanfic #mingyu scenarios #mingyu x reader #mingyu imagines

917 notes · View notes

chochuuya · 11 months

Text

soft & random headcanons with tr boys!

characters included: mikey, mitsuya, draken, kazutora, baji, takemichi, chifuyu, smiley, angry, hakkai, inui, kokonoi, rindou, ran, izana, hanma and kakucho.

⤹ mikey would subconsciously tuck your hair behind your ear when it gets out of place, while you were talking. then he'll tilt his head in confusion when you blushed and stumble on your words.

⤹ mitsuya is good with make up. i'm convinced that anyone who is good with arts/crafts are automatically pros in doing make up.

⤹ draken understands personal space, but he would always make sure you're alright by sending texts or food.

⤹ kazutora definitely cried when he heard laufey's song falling behind for the first time. (i did too)

⤹ baji is the type of person that would cover the sharp edge of a table when you crouch down to take something on the floor.

⤹ takemichi would run to a photo booth whenever he sees one, while holding your hand with his smile a mile wide.

⤹ chifuyu is a taekwondo kid and he is good with subway surfers. (i fell even more when he kicked down those tenjiku boys)

⤹ smiley would say "my brother was right about you", whenever you mess up but he won't say what exactly.

⤹ angry is a good cook and smiley would always be the food taster. he also seems like the person to make sure you never eat alone.

⤹ hakkai is a pretty boy so, he would totally have those dyed buzz cut designs and pull off every look. i also think he is a trinket person who collects cute stuff, especially keychains.

⤹ inui would hold your pinky or play with your hand mindlessly while you were talking about your day.

⤹ kokonoi knows a lot about everything and he is creative with the gifts he give you. it's been known that his love language is giving gifts anyway.

⤹ rindou is smart and he would even offer to stay up late to help you with your homework.. not forgetting to nag you a little.

⤹ ran knows how to do pottery and has a famous public spotify playlist. i feel like he would show off his skills on tiktok and would blow up overnight because 1) he is hot and 2) a hot guy doing pottery.

⤹ izana is bold and for some reason, i think he hates slow walkers. he would either nudge someone's shoulder while walking past them or simply sighed in annoyance. or both.

⤹ hanma is a fashion boy and he will change his style a lot. he is also funny without even trying and loves taking ootd pics.

⤹ kakucho is a great listener and he gives the best advice, but won't hesitate to call you out if he thinks you know better. he's a real one.

please do not steal, copy, translate, repost to other sites or claim my writings as your own. plagiarism is real!

i challenged myself to type more 🥸 i hope you like this one~ all notes; reblogs, likes and comments are vv much appreciated! ( 〃▽〃)

2K notes · View notes

fos-tis-zois · 4 months

Note

Wow I really loved your latest work and I think most of us can relate to being led on by someone only to be abandoned later😭Sucks but hey I'd gladly go through it of I get to have such adorable guys fix me up smh. On that note, thank you for adding Nanami his one was so cute too! If you ever get the time could you also add the others? Like Megumi, Yuuta, Yuuji and Geto? All of them or the ones you prefer! I think it'll be really cute with them too

jjk smau - y/n having your heart broken after being led on and your bff!jjk partner console you

spoiler: they like you

part i (w/ gojo, choso, nanami)

♡ incl: shoko, megumi, yuuji, yuuta

♡ an: hiiii anon, thank you so much im glad u liked my work enough to want a part ii and i really hope u like it. on this note, i would like to bring up that your reblogs would be mad appreciated. for those who dont know the only thing which matters for a blog on tumble is reblogs (even i found this out very recently) and my part i to this post only has 8 reblogs :( i am very grateful for all the readers always and i know im doing this mostly so i can keep being creative but a writer posting stuff is thinking of how it will be perceived and accepted by their readers and your reblogs are very validating so if u like my (or anyone's) work here please reblogg!! and requests are open, like alwasy darlingsss 🫶🏼🫶🏼 i am open to writing one shots too! hope u like this one

comments, reblogs, and feedback always welcome ^.^

banner by @thecutestgrotto ; art by @equaly and @f4rm

493 notes · View notes

luna-loveboop · 2 months

Text

@kikker-oma

Happy Fan Joy July, Oma!!!

Oma, thank you so so much for making Fan Joy July and sharing it with us! Our fandom, our artists, writers, readers, etc have loved seeing or taking part in this crazy challenge.

This is our gift to thank you- from artists all around who were affected by, or got gifts from, or took part in Fan Joy July. We all love you so much- so we made letters/art for this (Zelda themed!). Many said that they had already wanted to make/write you something, and this gave an opportunity.

One of the things I've loved about this month is how community/interaction centered you made it. The challenge was for yourself to make art each day (you absolute maniac /affectionate)- but then others joined. This July we saw or made art or fics with recommendations. Every day you made art for a writer with a scene from one of their fics, and inspired others to do the same, and writers even wrote every day for an artist based off an art piece they made! This led to a month of gift giving- everyone interacting and getting love for creating.

You truly led to a month of Joy for a lot of loz/lu fans- making the name "Fan Joy July" quite accurate

Thank you, Oma

Thank you for the gifts you gave all of us and the way you inspire others

Additional ramblings and art credits below the cut :P

I'm so grateful to all my artists who stepped up so we could do this when I asked- almost 36 hours and 19 artists. The art is like patchwork, with all these different styles, both traditional and digital put together. But that's exactly what happened- we all got drawn together, just like the other month-long challenges. It's so cool how art always connects people.

The artists who participated are @zolanort @la-sera @nancyheart11 @galenfeadraws @shade-pup-cub @arecaceae175 @isasan347 @ghosthoard @smilesrobotlover @unexpectedstormy @skyloftian-nutcase @knight-of-aether @uniquevoidflowers @jinxedruby @windwakingwhale @skyward-floored @xaeorian @blarefordaglare and me Thank you to all of you- You are all so cool and I'm glad! If I accidentally missed tagging or listing someone please let me know I'm so scared of if that happened djskdjdkd

There are letters based off of the colours/theme of each of the Lu boys- it's mainly Zelda and linkeduniverse themed... but we couldn't not have frogs for Oma! I did a frog, his name is Froggy and I'm very proud.

Here's a picture with a list of who did what-

Normally I would apologise for my handwriting, but you guys would just tell me it looks good anyways and honestly it does look good. :D Sorry for the ink splotches tho, and I hope you can read it.

We did this for you, Oma, because... well you are awesome /gen. You gave us the opportunity for a great month and we wanted to say thank you for all the joy you brought us so... thank you :)

Art :D

As for everyone who said they wanted to talk to Oma or other Fan Joy July artists who they loved sharing this month with... feel free to tag and share in the reblogs. Share the joy I guess- there's enough to go around :D

Happy Fan Joy July, Oma :))

231 notes · View notes

merthurweek2024 · 11 months

Text

✨STARTING December 18th - 24th✨

hi guys!! we’re back at it again for merthurweek, as always🫡 we can’t wait to see what brilliant creations everyone makes!! we love you all. thank you for allowing us to do this each year🩷have fun and enjoy🥰

FOR FANFIC OR META WRITERS - prompts and/or themes for inspiration:

day one: royalty + angst

day two: knight!merlin + protective!others

day three: soulmates + hurt/comfort

day four: reversal roles au + humor

day five: bamf!merlin + angst with a happy ending

day six: “please forgive me” + dragons

day seven: magic reveal + canon era

we have made a ao3 collection under the name which can be found here 'merthurweek2023' - if you wish to add your fics

please put the day and prompt in your summary if posting to ao3.

reminder: merlin/arthur do not need to be the one to say the line or be the things exactly! and the + means and/or. these are mostly for inspiration alone. if you would like to just write royalty!merlin for day one, for example, and not use angst, then that's perfectly fine.

FOR GIFS/ VIDEO/ ART CREATORS - ideas and/or themes for inspiration:

day one: their theme song + red

day two: any poem + orange

day three: favorite quote said between/about them + yellow

day four: favorite parallel + green

day five: what does this ship mean/represent to you? + blue

day six: any quote + purple

day seven: what could have been + white

Rules:

Must be posted on tumblr so we can reblog!

Please tag your posts as #merthurweek2023 and/or tag us directly.

NSFW is allowed, just please tag appropriately.

Have fun and enjoy yourself! This week is all about supporting each other and sharing your work!

questions, concerns, or just wanna talk? you can dm or send asks at this account or at our mains @bellamyblakru @tkstrrand

#merlin #bbc merlin #merlingifs #merthurgifs #merlinfests #merlin fests #merthurweek2023 #merthur #bbc merthur #merlin x arthur #merlin bbc #alielook #xuserann #userdorksinlove #usernorah #pandalikeelf #tuserkit

450 notes · View notes

yanderepuck · 2 months

Text

A YEAR IN THE MAKING

You know this BIG project I keep mentioning??

A good amount of you have guessed it, some of you know all about it because I've been bouncing ideas off of you to help me with the thought process.

SALAÌ IS GETTING HIS OWN ROUTE!!!!

Long story short.. it was supposed to be 8-10 chapters. It was going to be a speed run route. It's obvs not a real route it can be quick and not so indepth right? Right?

It's 20 chapters. With 3 side stories and an Episode 0.

There were going to be 4 cgs but... Art is pricey and well... honestly.. his route isn't even canon.

In Salaìs route, you, the mc, meet Salaì as he's painting in town. He's there looking for someone but you don't know who. But you get closer to him, going on little dates.. having no choice but to stay at his place for a night, helping him get his art shown in a gallery...and then it falls apart

I will be posting each chapter separately. There will be 3-4 days between each chapter. I will have a tag list. If you are tagged on this post you are already part of it. If you'd like to be part of it just comment saying so.

Minor details: so he has 3 side stories plus the episode 0...those will not be posted here. I've put so much work into this.. literally started August 25th last year...they will be available on Kofi as the chapters related to them are posted. They will only $1. You don't need these side stories for the main story just like in the game so please don't complain about me putting 4 of these behind a pay wall.

Info on the route itself: I will be staying this once I start posting it but through the story I will be calling him Salaì..but for a good part of it he goes by a different name. It shouldn't be confusing but he does have three names after all. Also I said his route isn't canon, meaning his route does not line up with his actual lore. In no way would Salai chose Mc over Leonardo, and I also don't put all of trauma of his in here bc its not really the focus, and like I said.. not even canon. BUT I AM WILLING TO ANSWER ANY QUESTIONS AT ANY GIVEN TIME. I also have @ask-salai where you can ask questions about it too if you would want HIM to answer and not me.

I REALLY REALLY REALLY HOPE YOU GUYS READ AND INTERACT WITH THIS.

Not trying to be threatening... But if this doesn't do well... I'm not sure if I'll continue writing. This is a years worth of work. Reblogs really do mean a lot to me. I want feedback. I want to know what you guys think.

I still need to proof read it all and doubt check some things but I wanted to get the word out about what I was doing.

@chandeliermichel @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @fang-and-feather @namine-somebodies-nobody @evil-quartett @lokis-laugh @candied-boys @breadmercury @aquagirl1978 @xenokiryu @lulu-the-smol-floof @tako-cafe @floydsteeth @spoopy-fish-writes @weird-profiterole

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp salaì #ikevamp oc

94 notes · View notes

gatheredfates · 3 months

Text

So... I asked if you guys might want some of my question drives back, and you sure did answer!

If you had told me I'd get that big of a response like a year ago, I probably would not have believed you. I know I mentioned it on the actual poll itself, but that's insane. 🥺 Thank you very much for supporting my projects.

Anyway, onto the thing you're all here for: The single-word (anything) drive!

What is a single-word (anything) drive?

I'm glad you asked! The single-word (anything) drive is an extension (and evolution) of my single-word fic drive, where writers would write a small fic based on a word of my choice. I want to give people the opportunity engage in creative mediums beyond writing; aka, gpose, art, meta analysis — whatever makes you happy and engaged creatively with Final Fantasy XIV!

By liking/reblogging this post, you consent for me to go into your askbox to send a one-word prompt generated from this website, picked from a selection of five, as a prompt for you do something creative with your oc. I will then queue any and all completed works to my character question tag, which can be found here, as well as posting them to my Tumblr Community over at SEAFLOOR (though you and other members are welcome to reblog them there in my absence, too)!

While the SEAFLOOR Community is public, it is currently invite only by Tumblr's restrictions about beta communities. If you'd like to join, you'll have to like this post for now. Once Communities are out of beta, you should be able to join straight from its page!

There is no word limit or time limit, no barrier for skill, and you are welcome to ask for another prompt if the original one doesn't vibe. This is all about giving you the opportunity to explore a concept or part of your character you might not have considered, or expand upon your artistic/technical ability.

Sea, when does the drive end? I'm glad you asked! I'll probably keep it open for about two weeks (around July 26), unless I decide to manually call it before then. I'll update this main post to reflect the change if I do (as well as announce it in SEAFLOOR).

That's all for now! I'll either update or reblog this post with more information as needed, so please check the notes of this post for any updates.

#｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea's character questions #｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea speaks #i'll probably do the question drive tomorrow #i wanna break back into it by doing the easier one first #:)

101 notes · View notes

sisterprocrastinator · 5 months

Text

AO3 kudos and comments - a very English polite request 🖤

I was thinking about the people who create today - those who write fan fiction or those who draw and paint and make digital fan art.

Thinking about the people who spend hours upon hours of their spare time making these amazing and beautiful things purely for fun and out of the kindness of their hearts.

They do it for FREE, guys. They bare their very souls onto the paper or the screen for your consumption (and for their own sanity, more often than not), for absolutely ZERO financial gain.

Do you know what all of these people have in common?

They absolutely love the ever loving shit out of getting a little kudos or a little reblog or a little comment on their work, letting them know that they're appreciated and that someone besides themselves enjoyed what they created.

It takes a mere second to hit the kudos button on AO3 and a couple more to leave a comment. But that little act of recognition? That will fuel a writer or an artist or a cosplayer for hours, days, weeks to come. It will spur them on to create more magnificent stuff and it will give them a little boost also.

So yeah, I guess all I'm saying is that it costs nothing to show a little bit of love to your favourite creators either on Tumblr or on AO3 or wherever.

I'm maybe being dramatic, but I'm asking the consumers of these pieces of our souls to please, please, PLEASE hit that kudos or that like or that reblog button.

Please leave a little comment saying, "I loved this!" or, "🖤🖤🖤" or, "skfheksksjdhffnakdhd!!!" 😅

Please just share the love and all of the creators will go to bed happy and well fed and ready to create another day 🥰

Thanks for reading my random brain rambles and reblogs would be fantastic please and thank you! 🖤🖤🖤

#ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #tumblr writers #artists on tumblr #wattpad #ao3 kudos #ao3 comments #tumblr likes #tumblr reblog #asking very nicely please and thank you #share the love #reblog the love

136 notes · View notes

ananxiousgenz · 3 months

Text

HEY YOU GUYS KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS????? JARTHUR COWBOY AU TIME!!!!!

this one also comes with a bit of info for the beginning:

@percymawce-arts and I have finally given this monster child of ours a name!! from here on out, this fic shall be known as "When the Land was Godless and Free" (a lyric from the song foreigner's god by hozier)!

the chapters we are posting are like. severely out of order. we've just been going crazy behind the scenes (we keep getting good ideas and then discussing/writing them for literal hours, it's a great time). percy basically wrote all of this and i just did some minor edits and left all caps comments screaming about how fucking GOOD this is, so any and all compliments should be directed at him <3

and some trigger warnings: this chapter contains alcohol and some suggestive themes!!

@izel-reblogs and @ellamenop (if you guys want me to stop tagging you please lmk)

“Here’s to John and Arthur! Arthur and John!” Noel shouted, stepping up onto the bar and raising his beer, some of it sloshing over the side of the cup with the motion. “Freaky-ass, sharpshooting, vigilante crime-fighting extraordinaires! Without you two, those gangsters would still be shooting up this charming little town.” He flashed a wink and a gaggle of girls seated behind John giggled. John rolled his eyes. “To John and Arthur!”

“To John and Arthur!” the bar echoed, jovial sounds of conversation and rowdy drinking soon filling the space again. John smiled into his drink, only to choke and nearly fall out of his chair when Noel clapped him on the shoulder.

“Get ready for a lot of free drinks,” he said, hopping down to the floor. “This town’s full of generous rich folks just waiting for a chance to throw some money around.”

John groaned. “Does that mean I have to talk to people?”

“I’m afraid so, darlin’,” Noel said, all easy charm and swagger as he leaned up against the bar next to John. “Uh oh. Don’t look now, but there’s one coming up behind you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” John swore under his breath as a young blonde woman in a pink (and startlingly revealing) dress came up to the bar beside him. “That was fast,” he whispered to Noel, who barely managed to hide a snigger.

“Hi!” the woman squealed, her pitch akin to metal nails on glass. John winced. Voice aside, her general disposition was the near equivalent to staring straight into the afternoon sun, and the neon pink of her dress didn’t help matters.

“Can I buy you a drink, cowboy?” she crooned, gently brushing a hand over his shoulder as she smiled far too brightly (the whole blind sharpshooter gig tended to work better when only one of them was blind).

John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Oh, I don’t-”

“It’s on the house for you, sweetheart. I’ll pay for everything, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. So, how about that drink?” She moved in closer beside him, her hand drifting up his neck and along his jawline. John was only beginning to think of how to politely decline when he felt a looming presence over his shoulder.

“Only if you buy for all of us,” Arthur said, not unkindly. But John had been traveling with him for long enough to recognize the hint of something else beneath the politeness. Not what it was, just that it was there. The woman giggled.

“Well, of course! Anything for our dashing heroes!” John glanced over his shoulder at Arthur. His face was set in stone, watching the woman like a hawk on a rabbit as she slipped a few coins into the bartender’s hand and waited for drinks in return. He looked… tense. Like he was a piece of rope, stretched to the verge of snapping, and if that annoying woman made one wrong move, he would.

Noel raised an eyebrow at Arthur. “You must be a real hit with the ladies,” he murmured into his glass, looking Arthur up and down as he did so. Arthur paid him no mind.

The sunshine woman was not the last to buy them a round of drinks, not by a long shot. Plenty of flirtatious ladies (and a few flirtatious men), thankful patrons and impressed watchmen approached them, hoping to show their gratitude by buying them a shot or a glass of whiskey. Arthur didn’t leave John’s side the whole night, quick to shut down any attempts at seduction by feigning ignorance to the intentions of anyone who approached them. But John knew better. John could see the hard set of his jaw, how he gripped his glass too tightly whenever a scantily clad lady twirled her hair around her finger, or a rambunctious young cowboy leaned too far into John’s personal space. It made John’s heart flutter wildly in his chest.

The drinks only slowed as the saloon emptied out, leaving Noel, Arthur and John three sheets to the wind, laughing uproariously at something stupid as the morning sun came over the horizon (Oscar had retired hours before, drunker than anyone at the bar much, much faster. Arthur had squeezed his shoulder and bid him goodnight with an expression of concern that made John’s heart clench).

Noel wiped tears from his eyes and looked over John’s shoulder, out the window behind him. When he saw the beginnings of daylight creeping over the horizon, he sighed. (He watched them, Arthur and John, engaged in a quiet but passionate discussion about something he couldn’t parse. They were both flushed and leaning in too close, chuckling at every other word that passed between them, oblivious to the rising sun or the empty saloon or Noel’s hands on their arms, steering them towards their room at the inn upstairs).

John chuckled (he did not giggle, he chuckled) as Noel tossed him into their rented room, with Arthur following soon after. He tripped over a trunk near the foot of the bed on his way in, falling forward onto the mattress with a gentle oof. Arthur laughed at him much too loudly for whatever time it was.

“Alright, you two,” Noel said, trying to hold back a laugh, “wash up and go to bed. God, I should’ve never given that toast, you’re both insufferable drunks.”

“Oh, shhhhhhh,” Arthur hushed, pulling John out of bed by his wrist. John leaned fully against Arthur in an effort to stay upright. It mostly worked. “You loooooove us,” he laughed. Noel smiled.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes but unable to keep the fond expression off his face. “You keep telling yourselves that.” He wiped his nose and tipped his hat to them. “Goodnight, you two.” Then he closed the door, and it was just them. John and Arthur, Arthur and John.

“Okay, come on,” John said after a long stretch of silence, inelegantly turning Arthur in the direction of their shared washbasin and mirror. Arthur giggled a bit as John tried to move him forward, mumbling some drinking song under his breath that John didn’t recognize (maybe it’s a British one, John thought lamely). They tripped over each other's feet a few times, but ultimately made it to the edge of the sink without completely falling over.

When they did, John braced his hands on either side of it with a tired sigh, watching his reflection in the mirror. There was a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead and a flush to his cheeks from the alcohol, but otherwise he seemed in decent condition. A few cuts and scrapes, some new and some old, and his braid was a little out of sorts, but nothing really concerning–

Then all the haziness of the alcohol and the late night was gone because Arthur’s full weight was at his back, his warmth permeating the fabric of John’s shirt and vest. His hot breath fanned across John’s ear and jaw, his eyes fluttering closed with the weight of inebriation. John inhaled shakily, suddenly brought back to shifting bodies and whiskey and fireworks with such vivid clarity it could have been real.

But it wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. John was drunk. Arthur was drunk, he could barely stand up straight, for fucks sake. He was just using John for support, falling asleep on his shoulder, and…

And pressing his nose behind John’s ear, ghosting his lips over the back of his jaw. Breathing his name with a pained expression. John’s own expression matched, half lidded eyes never leaving the mirror, tense and pained and wanting, oh-so deeply, for the one thing he knew he couldn’t have.

Despite himself, John’s eyes slipped closed. His shoulders relaxed, tension leaving his body as Arthur hands came up to rest on his hips. His head tilted, granting Arthur access to more of his jaw and neck. And Arthur took it. He didn’t kiss, but he skimmed. Barely there, almost not real, deniable. Like a spirit. Like a gut feeling. Like instinct.

“John…” Arthur breathed. John felt a shiver work its way down his spine at the sound of Arthur’s voice at the base of his skull, reverberating in his head like it was meant to be there. It took every ounce of will that John had to keep the small moan building in the base of his throat from escaping.

“Arthur,” he answered, voice hoarse and quiet. He wanted to open his eyes. Wanted to see himself in the mirror with Arthur over his shoulder, arms around him, nosing at his neck and shoulder, resisting the urge to press warm kisses into his skin. Or maybe to bite. To draw blood. John had never been shown a difference between violence and love. Maybe they weren’t so different. He hoped so. He wanted…

He wanted to see the look on Arthur’s face. Would it be like it was that day in the cabin? Shocked and a little confused but mostly needy. Yearning for something. Yearning for John. Or would it be darker? Dark like the clouds before a storm, the kind of storm that drowned you with rain and filled the air with electricity. Would it be dark like he was holding back? Like John was?

But John didn’t open his eyes, no matter how badly he wanted to know. If his eyes stayed closed, he could pretend Arthur’s gentle, delicate touch wasn’t there at all. Just a taste of something more, enough to leave John wanting. Enough for him to imagine. Enough for it to stay a pleasant, alcohol induced dream. If he opened his eyes it would be real, and it would have to stop. And John did not want it to stop.

“John,” Arthur murmured, his voice just above a whisper now. “Open your eyes.” The timbre of it was deep, so much deeper than John had heard it before. How could he have possibly known? How could he know John so well in so little time? So completely? The moan John was holding on to finally slipped past his lips when Arthurs grip on his waist tightened, ever so slightly. “John,” Arthur choked.

“I can’t,” John whispered as Arthur’s fingers moved from his hips, leaving a burning heat behind in the shape of Arthur’s palm. They trailed up and up, tugging at the buttons of John’s shirt as they went, making his breath hitch. Up to his open collar, nails dragging across John’s collar bone and hollow of his throat. Until they wrapped ever so gently around his neck, the thumb coming up to guide John’s jaw this way and that. John was breathing hard, now.

“Why?” Arthur asked, pressing himself closer, still, to John. John whined.

“I…” I want to. God, I want to. Make me. “Please, Arthur, don’t make me. Please, just–”

John gasped when he felt Arthur’s teeth scrape lightly over the skin of his neck, his hand flying up to grip Arthur’s hair, his shoulder, something. To hold Arthur. But he was stopped by a strong grip on his wrist, which guided his hand back down to the edge of the sink, holding it there. Pinning it.

“John,” Arthur whispered. John’s chest was rising and falling like Akke’s after a long sprint, his heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s. Arthur’s thumb caressed his knuckles, white with the strength of his grip on the sink.

“Please,” they said at the same time. John’s brow furrowed, his lips hung parted in anticipation. His mind swung wildly from the present, between Arthur and the mirror with a hand around his throat, to the cabin, pressing Arthur to the wooden floor, pinning his wrists above his head. The burning momentum between them suddenly halted by John’s fear, like a landslide on the track before a train. Now the train was out of control again, brakes screeching against wheels that just wouldn’t stop, sparks flying. Sparks like fireworks. Sparks like live wires. Sparks like exploding gunpowder.

But then the warmth at his back was gone. Along with it the hand at his throat and the one pinning his own to the sink. The teeth at the junction of his neck and shoulder and the hot breath on his skin vanished, leaving only a stark coldness where they’d been before. John sighed, whether in relief or disappointment he didn’t know, and opened his eyes.

The flush on his face had migrated down his neck and chest, which was exposed now (when had Arthur done that?) and heaving. The ‘light sheen’ of sweat was beading at his temples and brow now, falling in drops down to his jaw, along the bridge of his nose. His lips were parted and his eyes were wide and his neck was bare.

And Arthur, leaning drunkenly against the wall behind him, arms crossed, expression chilly. He was breathing heavily too, and his face was red like the first hints of daylight in the sky. But it was the hard set of his mouth and brow that made John shiver.

“We should go to bed, John,” he said, voice still raspy. A needy, sad little sound rose from John’s throat then, and John’s hand flew to his mouth, as if to force the offending sound back in. Arthur swallowed and turned, ready to head back to one of the twin beds awaiting them. Side by side and yet still miles apart. “And don’t worry.”

“It’ll all feel like a dream, tomorrow.”

#malevolent #malevolent podcast #malevolent fanfic #malevolent fic #jarthur #private eyes #malevolent pod #an eldritch being and his wet cat #when the land was godless and free #tw alcohol #tw suggestive #masked #malevolent cowboy au

119 notes · View notes

kingofbodyrolls · 10 months

Text

BTS fic recs: November 2023

I want to thank each and every writer on this list for creating such wonderful stories and art - you are truly amazing ✨ All the fics on this list hold a dear place in my heart 🥹

❗Most of these fics are smutty as hell, so minors dni.❗

If you read anything on this list and you like it, please leave a comment to the writer or reblog the original fic’s post to let them know that they’re appreciated 💜 And if you want more fic recs you can follow me to stay updated 🙂

BTS fic rec index → May | Jun | Jul | Aug | Sep (jjk)(knj) | Oct (pjm) | 💜 (*) | Dec (ksj)(kth) |

Emoji meaning → angst = 🌩️, smut = 🥵, fluff = 🥰, comedy = 😂, yandere = 😈, thriller/dark = 👻, personal favorites = 💯.

Namjoon

⭐Friend or Fuck by @joonsmagicshop [8K] // knj x f.reader // f2l // 🥵

📝 A drunken night leads to a good morning.

🗨️ I really liked this 🥺 Namjoon was just so sweet, caring and gentle with OC. Really loved it 👏🏾 but why, oh why did Jungkook have to cockblock them 😂 I wanted the smut alright! The build up was so good, I was slightly frustrated with the ending 🙈 yes I’m a slut for smut okay 🙈 I’m hoping for a part two ✌🏾🙏🏾💜

⭐Emotions of the Soul 💯by @oddinary4bts [36.6K] // knj x f.reader // idol!au, childhood/teenage lovers to s2l2l // 🥵🌩️🥰

📝 When Namjoon reappears in your life after thirteen years of absence, you find yourself unsure of what he means to you, and of what you mean to him. Anxiety reigns over you, but will it be enough to drag you away from Kim Namjoon?

🗨️ This is another masterpiece from Ella! She is incredible at writing idol!au’s that just feels so goddamn natural and real 👏 The way Namjoon is written is just perfection and OC with her struggles, and they are goddamn human, yes – and that’s one of the beautiful parts in it!!! 😭I also reminded me of my own teenage breakup (gosh I was stupid back then, but not because of the breakup lol 😂). Anyway, please go and read it! As with everything Ella write, this is another to add to my favorites 💜

Seokjin

Nothing this month 😞

Yoongi

⭐Workaholic 💯by @hobiwonder [10K] // myg x f.reader // “‘strangers” to lovers (I don’t want to spoil!) // 🥵😂🥰

📝 Yoongi needs to relax and Hoseok has many tricks up his sleeve to make him. None of them Yoongi thought included hiring a hooker to pay him a visit one stormy night.

🗨️ Wow okay, this was so freaking great! Like, what??? Incredible! A masterpiece! I really really loved it 🥺 everything was so fucking good, their chemistry, the tense build up ugh, so fucking good! 💯 ✨

⭐Little bit of your Heart by @yoongiofmine [wordcount loading…] // myg x f.reader, jjk x f.reader // exes!au, fwb!au // 🥵

📝 You had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with Min Yoongi. You knew you and Yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything Yoongi couldn’t. Will Jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten Yoongi enough to do something about it?

🗨️ Yes here we go a new series from Ella! ✨ Yoongi already seems so done with Jungkook and they have barely spoken 😂 looking forward to how that develops 🤭

⭐What the Moon Saw + Stolen Tides 💯by @violetsiren90 // myg x f.reader // non-idol!au, f2l // 🥵🥰🌩️

📝 In the words of the great Stevie Nicks, "Time makes you bolder, even children get older, and I'm getting older too."

🗨️ This is just so fucking beautiful. Everything. About. It. Period. 😭 It is emotional, it is young love, and it is tender and loving - like, Yoongi is just so sweet. Their timing sucks, but thankfully Violet wrote a beautiful drabble to give the couple a lovely ending! 💜 Truly, please go read it, it is so good I was crying and felt so good after, it’s sweet – OKAY I’M SOFT I know.

Hoseok

⭐Flight 18 💯by @noona-la-la-la [9.5K] // jhs x f. reader // flight!au, idol!au // 🥵😂

📝 Korean Air Flight 18 leaves daily from Los Angeles traveling to Seoul. You’ve taken this flight before, but this time you’ve got an irritating passenger in the neighboring seat. Little did you know that he would end up giving you the ride of your life.

🗨️ This was just really really amazing; utterly funny (like I was laughing at certain points), so much sexual tension that evolves into satisfying smut 😗

Jimin

⭐The Airport Couple: P[ass]anger from Hell + Drabble 💯by @dovechim & @jimlingss [8K] // pjm x f.reader // e2l, frequent traveler jimin x tsa agent reader // 😂😂😂🥰

📝 As a TSA agent, you expect your job to be relatively easy, most passengers these days follow the rules to the T in order to avoid prolonging their custom checks. But not a certain Park Jimin, who seems to have a problem understanding what 100ml is, or the very simple fact that gadgets must be taken out of the bag, and bomb jokes are strictly off limits. Frequent traveller Park Jimin is your nemesis, but darn is he a cute one.

🗨️ This is just so fucking hilarious, don’t get me started. I laughed from beginning to end 😂 And it’s still as good as I remember, if not even better??? Like ✨ I’ve highlighted a few of my favorite parts from the fic. I don’t want to give too much away, but these lines are just so damn hilarious! Please go read it, it’s one of my faves 💯

⭐The Airport Couple: Park Jimin’s Cock[pit] 💯by @jimlingss & @dovechim [12K] // pjm x f.reader // pilot!au, bf2l, coworkers!au // 😂🥰🥵

📝 Talk about Angry Birds, and most people would immediately think of the mobile game app. But within your circle of friends, it stands for something else. It’s synonymous with Park Jimin, one of the most talented pilots from your batch who also just happens to have anger issues, or in other words, air rage. He is your best friend, but when you get teamed up with him as his co-pilot, you can only pray that things don’t go south… literally.

🗨️ I remember reading this a few years ago, and I loved it then and I still do ✨ It is incredibly funny, has good banter and dialogue to match. The chemistry between reader and Jimin is just priceless, their friendship is just pure giggles 🥹 It’s also fluffy and will tug on your heartstrings in the best way possible. Just really, really good and definitely also one of my all-time favorites 💯💜

⭐Flowers & Sex by @7deadlysinsfics [4.5K] // pjm x f.reader // fwb, f2l au, pwp // 🥰🥵🌩️

📝 You’re in need of a warm body and a good fuck. who better than your friend park jimin?

🗨️ Just really cute 🥺 Hoseok (readers ex in this) is a douche though, like why did she have to go back to him ugh 🥴 but I like how the story developed and reader realized her feelings after she took her ex back. Loved Jimin and how he gave her flowers 💐 he was so fucking cute 🥺🌸

⭐Heaven with You by @acc3ssdenied [4.7K] // pjm x f.reader // friends to ??? // 🥵

📝 All good things happen after 2 am - at least, that was what you believed. Whoever thought it was a good idea for a group of twelve young adults to play drunk truth or dare obviously agreed with you.

🗨️ Oh this was some filthy smut 🥵 And that kiss with Taehyung was downright slutty – a really good pwp 🥵

⭐Have some Respect by @chim-chimmie [4.2K] // pjm x f.reader // school/college!au, teacher!jimin // 🥵

📝 Your teacher Park Jimin has had enough of you disrespecting him, so he taught you a little lesson.

🗨️ Okay, okay, I know the teacher x student dynamic is a touchy subject, and not always well executed, but hear me out, alright. This was so freaking sinful, like my soul needs to take a shower now??? 🥵

⭐Rush by @bangtanfanfiction [4K] // pjm x f.reader // idol!jimin // 🥵🥰

📝 After not seeing your boyfriend for several weeks, his latest performance definitely made something in you snap. And at a award show of all things.

🗨️ A good pwp with smut that is 🔥

⭐How Long? by @jiminniethemarshmallow [4K] // pjm x f.reader // established relationship // 🥵🥰

📝 No summary!

🗨️ I also remember reading this a few years ago and it’s still so fucking hot and filthy 🥵

⭐Turbulence by @yminie [9.3K] // pjm x f.reader // flight!au // 🥵🥰

📝 On your first flight the cute boy next to you helps to sooth your nerves, and on the second flight he soothes something else.

🗨️ Gosh, I remember reading this a few years back and I’ve actually read it multiple times, it’s just so incredible 👏🏾 the smut is freaking hot, and Jimin is just 🤯 well, he’s being a sweet fluffball, but then a smexy God 🥵 like wtf! The duality is insane! One of my favorites and I’m looking forward to rereading part two ✨💜

⭐Accelerate by @yminie [8.9K] // pjm x f.reader // flight!au // 🥵🥰

📝 Jimin comes to retrieve his jacket on the condition that you then accompany him for dinner, and you can bet he satiates every hunger.

🗨️ I haven’t re-read this yet – but I remember I loved it 💜(I’ll insert my rec here when I have read it again).

Taehyung

Nothing this month 😞

Jungkook

⭐Love à Trois [series; ongoing] by @letjungcoook7 [13.1K] // jjk x f.reader x pjm // slice of life, f2l+s2l, roommates!au, college!au, love triangle // 🥵🌩️

📝 You and Jimin secretly have feelings for each other, you both realize your dream of studying at the same college and sharing an apartment, but when financial issues start to arise, you have to seek a third roommate. and guess who fate sends your way? Jungkook, the same guy who took your virginity back in high school.

🗨️ This is really good! There’s two chapters up so far and they are really good! It’s so interesting to see the love triangle unfold. Really enjoyed this 🌸 It’s just getting better and better ✨ I really loved the backstory of how both Jimin and OC realized they had feelings for each other 🥺 so good and really looking forward to the next chapter 😍

⭐Sweet Obsession by @letjungcoook7 [2.5K] // jjk x f.reader // established relationship, plussize!reader // 🥵🥰

📝 When a coworker starts to show interest in you, your boyfriend becomes jealous.

🗨️ Whaaaaaaaat 🥹This was so incredibly sweet and tender! As a plus-sized curvy girl, this was such a good and lovely read 💖 Another banger from Lua💜

⭐The Wedding Planners 💯by @gukyi [28K] // jjk x f.reader // e2l, wedding!au // 😂🥰🌩️🥵

📝 Jeon jungkook is three things: cocky, terrible, and your worst enemy. then your best friend hoseok gets engaged to the love of his life, and suddenly jeon jungkook is four things: cocky, terrible, your worst enemy, and the man you will be spending the next seven months with in order to plan your best friend’s wedding.

🗨️ I also remember reading this a few years ago and it was just a very funny and pleasant reread 💜 What I love about this is one, is definitely the slow-burn and the enemies to lovers aspect too. The banter between reader and Jungkook is just so priceless and reading how their relationship slowly unfolds and develops through the months of the wedding planning was just everything 💯 Hoseok and Yoongi’s personality in this also makes this fic truly amazing.

⭐Fragment of the Past (1)(2)(3) [series; completed] 💯by @ctrlsht [28.1K] // jjk x f.reader // patient!jk x psychiatrist!reader // 🌩️😈👻🥵

📝 You are a well-known and respected psychiatrist and author. You start treating Jungkook, who suffers from PTSD after surviving an extremely traumatic incident. As you help him confront his traumatic past, he begins to act strangely, and you start uncovering something about him that will change everything.

🗨️ Another first for me, with the thriller vibes and damn it delivers on that! It’s really, really good 👏 Pacing is really good and how we see more and more of Jungkook’s disturbing traits is just brilliant ✨If you want my full review of it, you can find it here (it does contain spoilers though!). And I really think you shouldn’t spoil it! Just go read it if you’re into the darker stuff, because my heart was racing so damn fast! This is the best thriller yandere au I’ve read to date 💜

⭐Lost on You by @letjungcoook7 [2.1K] // jjk x f.reader // established relationship // 🥵

📝 You're just so obsessed with your boyfriend. you would do anything for him.

🗨️ Ehm excuse me Lua, mirror sex???? 🥵 Fucking hell that was a hot one, like I almost feel like I need to take a shower 😂 another banger from you! And the dirty talking too, aish 🥵 💖

OMG November has truly been an exceptional month! There was my 30th birthday of course, and then I received so my love for my series ‘friendcation’ that I was crying with all the beautiful words and reviews I got 😭 I am so thankful for every one of you, whether you interact with my fic recs or my own – thank you! 💜

Borahae 💜

386 notes · View notes