Me talking to my friends about my hyperfixations...

night's blessings

"Incoming!"

The dreamscape just felt so surreal, and so did the danger that came with it. The Silver Owls just kept coming, some even daring to resort to swords rather than magic. With what training he had with the art of the sword, Sebek and Silver had been keeping up with the other Fae. The objective was merely to survive the dream and protect Lilia at all costs. After all, without their key, they shall never leave this world.

Sebek does not register the footsteps creeping up behind him. It is only when he sees the shadow behind him grow bigger and bigger, followed by the blade that was certain to smite him in half. He was far too slow, and his enemy had already obtained an advantage from leaping at higher ground. Shutting his eyes, he prepares himself to withstand the pain, but it never comes.

Instead, he is shoved onto the ground and a small yelp is what is registered into his sensitive ears. It is almost instinct; the way he swings behind him to expel the Ironclad onto the ground until it stopped attempting to get up. Having flung that soldier onto a tree does Sebek finally get the chance to look upon the one that shielded him from what could have been a fatal blow.

Much to his disappointment and horror, it is you clutching onto your shoulder on the dirty ground, and not another royal guardsman.

"PREFECT!"

The Anchor in His Storm

Choi Seungcheol (S.Coups) x Reader

Genre: Angst, Comfort, Fluff, Established Relationship

The practice room was unbearably silent.

Not because things were peaceful, but because exhaustion had stolen the members’ voices, their energy drained from the past week of relentless schedules.

Seungcheol stood in the center, fists clenched. His eyes swept over his members, his brothers, who were sitting on the floor, sweat dripping, chests heaving, bodies barely holding themselves up.

And yet, the company had just sent word: More practice. Another hectic week ahead. No breaks.

“Let’s run it again,” Seungcheol forced out, though his voice lacked its usual fire.

No one moved.

Joshua rubbed his face tiredly. “Bro… we can’t.”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply, his frustration simmering. “We have to. We don’t have a choice.”

Jeonghan, lying flat on the floor, opened one eye. “You mean you don’t have a choice. You’re forcing yourself to push through this, and we all know why.”

Silence.

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened. “I'm the leader. If I stop—”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Jeonghan interrupted.

The words struck something deep in Seungcheol’s chest. But before he could respond, a voice suddenly cut through the tension—

“Hyung, I’m calling Y/N.”

Seungcheol’s head snapped up as Seokmin held up his phone, already ringing.

“Don’t—”

Too late.

The call connected, and your sleepy voice filled the room. “Huh? Seokmin? What’s going on?”

Seungcheol swallowed. He hadn’t spoken to you all day, hadn’t even had time to breathe properly and now, now, he was seconds away from breaking.

“Y/N?” Seokmin handed the phone to Seungcheol.

For a moment, he hesitated.

But the second he heard you softly call his name, “Cheol?” the dam inside him cracked.

His fingers curled around the phone, grip tightening. “Baby…” His voice wavered, his exhaustion evident.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, concern lacing your tone.

Seungcheol’s throat burned. He had held everything in for so long, had been strong for everyone, but hearing you, his safe place, shattered every wall he had built.

“They won’t let us rest,” he finally admitted, his voice raw. “We just finished a full week of schedules, and they want us to keep going. The guys are exhausted… and I—” His breath hitched. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

There was silence on the line. Then, you exhaled softly.

“Cheol,” you murmured, your voice a gentle balm to his frayed nerves. “You need to stop carrying this burden alone. Look at your members. They’re already giving their all for you. Now, let them take care of you, too.”

Seungcheol’s gaze flickered to the members, who were all watching him quietly.

Mingyu gave him a small nod. Jeonghan offered a lazy thumbs-up. Even Wonwoo, barely keeping his eyes open, muttered, “She’s right.”

Seungcheol closed his eyes, exhaling shakily.

You continued, “Baby, you’re human. You’re not invincible, and you don’t have to be.”

Something inside him broke. The weight on his shoulders, the exhaustion pressing against his ribs, all of it suddenly felt too much.

And for the first time in forever, Seungcheol let himself fall.

“I’m tired,” he whispered.

“I know,” you soothed. “So stop holding it in. Let them see that their leader is human, too.”

Seungcheol opened his eyes.

The members weren’t waiting for a command. They weren’t expecting him to be strong. They were just there, his family, standing beside him, ready to carry the weight together.

Slowly, Seungcheol exhaled.

“Let’s stop for today,” he finally said.

A collective sigh of relief filled the room. Seungcheol felt his own body relax as he sank onto the floor, resting his head against the wall.

Through the phone, you smiled. “Finish up and come straight to me.”

His breath hitched.

You lowered your voice, soft and warm. “I’ll make you feel better.”

Seungcheol shut his eyes for a moment, letting the comfort of your words settle deep in his bones.

“Yeah?” he murmured, the exhaustion in his voice now mixed with something lighter, something like hope.

“Yeah,” you promised. “Now get your ass here, leader-nim.”

For the first time in days, Seungcheol let out a real, genuine chuckle.

The members all exchanged looks, rolling their eyes. “Wow. That was fast,” Dino mumbled.

Jeonghan smirked. “And that, boys, is the power of love.”

Seungcheol ignored them, already grabbing his bag. “Alright, let’s clean up and leave.”

As the members moved sluggishly to gather their things, Seungcheol kept his phone close to his ear, (after giving back dk's phone, he asked you to call him instead so he can keep hearing your voice) listening to you talk about how you’d prepare his favorite meal, how you’d let him vent as much as he needed, how you’d hold him until he fell asleep.

And suddenly, for the first time in a long time, he felt like he could breathe again.

Because no matter how heavy the burden, he had you.

And that was enough.

Title: When Life Gives You Tangerine

Seungkwan wasn’t as clueless as Y/N thought. Sure, he’d teased her that rainy day in class—“You! The quiet girl! Is it you?”—but he’d known all along. Those tangerines with their wobbly smiles and tiny “Fighting!” notes? Only one person in their class had cheeks that turned tangerine-red when she got shy. He’d caught her sneaking glances, seen her duck behind chairs, and he’d loved it. Every morning, he’d sit down, spot the tangerine grinning up at him, and feel like the luckiest kid in Jeju.

“Another one!” he’d say to Doyun, holding it up like a trophy. “Look at this heart—it’s so crooked, it’s cute!”

“You’ve got a secret admirer,” Doyun would snicker. “You should thank them.”

“Nah,” Seungkwan said, peeling it open. “She’s too shy. I don’t wanna scare her off. Plus, these tangerines? Best part of my day.”

But then, they stopped. The desk stayed empty, and so did Y/N’s seat at the back. Seungkwan frowned, poking Doyun one morning. “Hey, where’s the quiet girl? She sick or something?”

“Dunno,” Doyun shrugged. “Maybe she’s just late.”

She wasn’t late. Days passed, and Seungkwan started to worry. “What if she’s really sick? Like, really sick?” he whispered to himself, imagining all sorts of dramatic scenarios. Finally, he overheard Mrs. Kim talking to another teacher: “Y/N? Oh, she’s moved to Seoul with her parents.”

“Seoul?!” Seungkwan yelped, loud enough that Mrs. Kim turned around.

“Seungkwan, indoor voice!” she scolded, but he barely heard her. Y/N was gone—just like that?

That afternoon, he grabbed a tangerine from home, scribbled a quick “Get well soon!” on it (just in case she was sick), and marched to her grandparents’ house. He knocked, shifting nervously as the door creaked open.

“Oh! You’re the singing boy!” her grandma said, her eyes lighting up. “Seungkwan, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, holding out the tangerine. “Is Y/N here? I heard she’s… gone?”

Her grandpa nodded, stepping out. “She’s in Seoul now, with her parents. Left real quick—didn’t even take all her things.”

Seungkwan’s shoulders slumped. “Oh… I brought this for her.”

Grandma smiled, taking the tangerine. “You’re a sweet boy. Wait here.” She shuffled inside and came back with a little sketchbook. “Y/N left this. We think you should have it—she was always drawing you, you know.”

“Me?” Seungkwan blinked, his cheeks going pink. He took the book, flipped it open, and—wow. Pages and pages of him: Seungkwan with a mic, Seungkwan with stars, Seungkwan on a stage with a crowd of tangerines cheering him on, their little faces beaming. He laughed, loud and bright. “She’s so funny! Look at these tangerines—they’ve got eyes!”

“She believed in you,” Grandpa said, chuckling. “Said you’d be a star someday.”

Seungkwan hugged the sketchbook to his chest. “I’m keeping this forever.”

Back home, he taped his favorite drawing—the one with the tangerine crowd—above his bed. Not long after, his life took a wild turn. A teacher uploaded a video of him singing at a contest, it blew up online, and suddenly, a company called Pledis was on the phone. High school hit, and boom—he was a trainee, sweating through dance practices and vocal lessons in Seoul.

Some nights, when he was bone-tired and ready to flop, he’d glance at that drawing. “You were right, Y/N,” he’d mumble, smiling. “I’m getting there.”

The other trainees noticed, of course. One day, Hoshi plopped down next to him, peering at the sketch. “What’s with the tangerine army, Seungkwan?”

“Oh, this?” Seungkwan grinned, holding it up. “It’s from my secret tangerine girl. Back in Jeju, she’d sneak these cute tangerines onto my desk—smiley faces, hearts, little notes. She was so shy, her cheeks would go all red!”

“Aw, that’s adorable!” DK cooed, leaning over. “Did you ever tell her you knew?”

“Nah, didn’t wanna embarrass her,” Seungkwan said. “But when she moved away, she left me this. Look at those tangerines—they’re my first fans!”

Mingyu smirked. “You’ve got a fan club before we even debuted. Lucky.”

“I know, right?” Seungkwan laughed. “She drew me like this—like I’d be a real singer. I wanna find her someday and say, ‘Look, your tangerines got me here!’”

Debut came, and Seventeen took off. Stages got bigger, crowds got louder, but Seungkwan never let go of that drawing. He’d tuck it into his bag for every tour, a little piece of Jeju magic. “Y/N’s out there somewhere,” he’d tell the boys backstage, grinning. “She doesn’t know it, but she’s the reason I kept going. I bet she’s still drawing tangerines for somebody.”

One night, after a massive concert, he stood on stage, waving to the sea of lightsticks. He didn’t know Y/N was out there, clutching her own tangerine, cheering him on like always. He didn’t know she’d become a Carat, her shy little heart still rooting for the boy who’d made her days brighter. But he held onto that hope—someday, he’d meet her again, show her that drawing, and say, “Hey, tangerine girl, we made it!”

Title: When Life Gives You Tangerine

Masterlist | Part 2

Y/N was the quietest kid in their little Jeju elementary school, the kind of girl who’d rather blend into the wallpaper than wave hello. She lived with her grandparents in a cozy house that smelled like tangerine blossoms, her parents far off in Seoul, chasing big-city dreams. She didn’t mind too much—she had her sketchbook, her pencils, and a secret that made her cheeks turn as red as the ripest tangerines: she was Boo Seungkwan’s number one fan.

Seungkwan, oh, he was the sun in their classroom. Always belting out a song, always surrounded by a giggling crowd of classmates, always the teacher’s golden boy. “Seungkwan-ah, sing us something!” Mrs. Kim would say, and he’d puff out his chest like a tiny opera star and croon until everyone clapped. He was the kid who’d represent their school at every singing contest in Jeju, his voice bouncing off the walls like it was made of pure sunshine. Y/N? She’d just sit at the back, her nose buried in her desk, sneaking glances at him while her heart did little flips.

“Grandma, he’s just… so loud and bright,” Y/N mumbled one evening, hunched over her sketchbook. She was doodling Seungkwan again—him on a stage, stars sparkling around his head, a microphone in hand. Her grandma peeked over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling.

“Why don’t you just talk to him, sweetie? He’s a nice boy!” Grandma said, poking Y/N’s cheek until it turned pink.

“Halmeoniii!” Y/N whined, hiding her face. “He’s got too many friends! And I’m… I’m just me. What if everyone looks at me? I’d die!”

Her grandma chuckled. “You and your tangerine cheeks. One day, you’ll see—he’s not so scary.”

But Y/N wasn’t convinced. Seungkwan was a social butterfly, flitting from friend to friend, while she was a shy little caterpillar, content to stay curled up in her shell. Still, she had her own way of cheering him on. Every morning, she’d pluck an extra tangerine from the basket on their kitchen table, grab a marker, and get to work. A smiley face here, a tiny heart there, or—if Seungkwan had a contest that day—a scribbled “Fighting, Seungkwan!” on the peel. Then, she’d tiptoe to school extra early, her sneakers barely making a sound, and sneak the tangerine onto his desk. She’d position it just right, so when he sat down, it’d be grinning up at him like a little orange cheerleader.

One morning, she was almost caught. She’d just placed a tangerine with a wobbly “You’re the best!” on it when she heard footsteps. She gasped, ducked behind a chair, and peeked out as Seungkwan burst into the room with his best friend, Doyun.

“Who keeps leaving these?!” Seungkwan said, holding up the tangerine and squinting at it. “Look, it’s got a message again! ‘You’re the best!’ Who’s my secret fan, huh?”

Doyun snickered. “Maybe it’s a ghost. A tangerine ghost!”

“A ghost with terrible handwriting,” Seungkwan teased, peeling it open. “Mmm, it’s sweet though! Thanks, mystery person!”

Y/N’s face burned behind the chair. She wanted to melt into the floor, but her heart was doing cartwheels—he liked it!

At every contest, Y/N was there, tucked into the crowd, her hands clasped tight. She’d watch Seungkwan belt out his songs, his voice soaring over the audience, and she’d clap so quietly you’d barely hear it. Once, he won first place, and as he waved his shiny trophy, she whispered to herself, “I knew you could do it.”

Back home, her sketchbook filled up with Seungkwans—Seungkwan with a crown, Seungkwan with a microphone, Seungkwan peeling a tangerine with a big goofy grin. Grandpa caught her once, peering over her shoulder.

“Yah, is that the singing boy again?” he asked, grinning. “You’ve got a whole museum of him in there!”

“Harabeoji, shhh!” Y/N squeaked, slamming the book shut. “It’s a secret!”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” he said, winking. “But you should give him a tangerine in person one day. Bet he’d sing you a song for it.”

“No way!” Y/N yelped, her cheeks flaring up again. “I’d turn into a tangerine myself!”

One rainy afternoon, something wild happened. Seungkwan was late to class, and Y/N—caught off guard—hadn’t hidden her latest tangerine yet. She’d drawn a little stage on it, with a stick-figure Seungkwan singing. She froze as he slid into his seat, blinking at the fruit.

“Hey… this one’s got me on it!” he said, holding it up. He turned around, scanning the room. “Who’s the artist? Come on, own up!”

Y/N sank lower in her seat, her heart pounding. Their classmates giggled and shrugged, but Seungkwan’s eyes landed on her—just for a second. She thought she’d faint.

“You!” he said, pointing. “The quiet girl! Is it you?”

“N-no!” Y/N stammered, her voice a squeak. “I—I don’t draw!”

“Liar! Your cheeks are redder than this tangerine!” Seungkwan laughed, not meanly, but like he’d just solved a mystery. He peeled it and took a bite. “Well, whoever it is, you’re my favorite. Keep ‘em coming, okay?”

Y/N buried her face in her hands, but inside, she was glowing. Maybe, just maybe, her tangerines were braver than she was. And maybe one day, she’d find the courage to say “hi” to the boy who turned her shy little world into a song.

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The tangerines stopped showing up on Seungkwan’s desk the very next day. He plopped into his chair, stared at the empty spot, and frowned. “Where’s my mystery fan?” he muttered, tapping his pencil like it’d summon the fruit out of thin air.

“Maybe they ran out of tangerines,” Doyun said, munching on a snack. “Or they got tired of your singing.”

“Impossible!” Seungkwan huffed, crossing his arms. “My voice is a gift! They’re probably just… shy. Yeah, that’s it. They’ll be back tomorrow.”

But tomorrow came, and the desk stayed empty. So did the next day. And the next. Seungkwan didn’t know it, but Y/N was gone—whisked away to Seoul that rainy night. Her parents had shown up at her grandparents’ house, their faces serious but soft.

“Sweetie, we’re taking you with us,” her mom said, brushing Y/N’s hair back. “Halmeoni and harabeoji are getting older, and we want you with us in Seoul. You’ll love it there—big city, new school, new adventures!”

“But… my friends…” Y/N mumbled, clutching her sketchbook. She didn’t have many friends, but there was Seungkwan—even if he didn’t know it.

Grandma smiled, patting her head. “You’ll make new ones, tangerine cheeks. And you should be with your mom and dad. We’ll be okay here.”

Her grandpa nodded. “Plus, Seoul’s got more tangerines than you can draw on!”

Y/N didn’t get to say goodbye—not to her teachers, not to her classmates, and definitely not to Seungkwan. The move was so fast, she barely had time to pack her pencils. And just like that, her quiet Jeju days—and her secret tangerine mission—were over.

Years passed, and Y/N settled into Seoul life. She didn’t hear a peep about Seungkwan—no news, no rumors, nothing. She figured he was still in Jeju, singing his heart out at school events. Meanwhile, she kept her tangerine habit alive. Every morning, she’d doodle on one—a smiley face, a little star, sometimes a “Have a good day!”—and leave it on the kitchen table for her parents.

“Y/N, you’re gonna turn us into tangerine fanatics!” her dad laughed one day, peeling one with a wobbly heart on it. “Where’d you learn this, huh?”

“It’s… just a thing I do,” Y/N said, her cheeks going pink. She couldn’t exactly say, Oh, I used to sneak these to my elementary crush who sang like an angel.

Her mom grinned. “Well, keep it up. It’s the cutest thing ever.”

Fast forward to high school. Y/N was sixteen now, still shy but with a tight little crew of friends. One afternoon, they were sprawled out at a convenience store, slurping ramyeon and chatting over the hum of the radio. Then, a song came on—bright, catchy, with a voice that hit Y/N like a lightning bolt.

“Ugh, I love this song!” her friend Jiwoo squealed, bobbing her head. “Seventeen’s the best.”

“Seventeen?” Y/N asked, tilting her head. “Who’s that?”

Jiwoo’s jaw dropped. “You don’t know Seventeen? They’re only the coolest boy group ever! Here, lemme list the members—there’s S.Coups, Jeonghan, Joshua, Jun, Hoshi, Wonwoo, Woozi, DK, Mingyu, The8, Seungkwan—”

“WAIT!” Y/N yelped, nearly dropping her chopsticks. “Did you say Seungkwan? Like… Boo Seungkwan?”

“Uh, yeah?” Jiwoo blinked. “You know him?”

Y/N didn’t answer. She was already on her feet, ramyeon forgotten. “I—I gotta go!”

She sprinted home, her sneakers slapping the pavement, and dove onto the couch like it was a lifeline. Her fingers fumbled with her phone as she typed “Seventeen Seungkwan” into the search bar. The screen lit up with photos, videos, and—oh my gosh—that face. Older, sharper, but still him. The boy from Jeju. The boy she’d drawn stars around. The boy who’d eaten her tangerines.

“HE’S IN SEOUL?!” she shrieked, loud enough to make her dad poke his head out of the kitchen.

“Y/N, you okay in there?” he called.

“YES! NO! MAYBE!” she yelled back, scrolling like her life depended on it. “Appa, he’s famous! Seungkwan’s famous!”

“Who’s Seungkwan?” her mom asked, wandering in with a tangerine—ironically, one Y/N had doodled a smile on that morning.

“My… my old classmate!” Y/N said, her voice a mix of shock and glee. “He’s in a group called Seventeen! Listen to this!” She hit play on a video, and there he was—Seungkwan, belting out a high note on some shiny stage, just like she’d always imagined.

Her parents exchanged a look. “Well,” her dad said, “guess your tangerine boy grew up.”

From that day on, Y/N was a carat—Seventeen’s biggest fan, though she’d argue she was Seungkwan’s original fan. She started small, dragging Jiwoo to their tiny showcase events. “Look at him!” she’d whisper, pointing at Seungkwan as he waved to the crowd. “He’s still so loud and bright!”

“Girl, you’re obsessed,” Jiwoo teased. “Why don’t you just yell, ‘Hey, I’m the tangerine girl!’?”

“No way!” Y/N squeaked, her cheeks flaring. “He’d think I’m weird!”

Years rolled by, and Seventeen got bigger—arenas, world tours, the works. Y/N was there for it all, clutching her lightstick, her sketches of Seungkwan now tucked away in a box under her bed. She’d watch him sing, laugh, and charm the crowd, and she’d smile to herself. He didn’t know she was out there, cheering him on like she always had. He didn’t know about the shy little girl who’d once left him tangerines with wobbly hearts.

One night, after a concert, she lingered outside with the crowd, clutching a tangerine she’d doodled on out of habit—a little “Fighting!” on the peel. She sighed, tossing it up and catching it.

“Some things never change,” she mumbled, grinning. “Keep shining, Seungkwan.”

And somewhere on that stage, Seungkwan was still the star she’d always known he’d be—tangerines or not.

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an: okay, while I was watching When Life Gives You Tangerines, I don’t know why I kept thinking of Seungkwan because of the title ‘tangerine’—and I remembered when he gave tangerines to the reporters. So, I thought of turning this into a short series, maybe? Hahaha, it’s cute! Hope you like it🫶🏻

Part two: Silent Scream - Great Cake Heist

It had been a peaceful few weeks since yn’s dramatic “Offline YN” era ended, and the seventeen's dorm was back to its usual state of controlled chaos. Yn was once again flooding tiktok with DK collabs, spamming weverse with rants like “Seungkwan-oppa stole my hoodie and now it smells like his fancy cologne—send help,” and ordering random junk online (the latest arrival: a pair of slippers shaped like tiger paws). Her life-sized cardboard cutout still stood by the dorm’s front door, a silent sentinel reminding the members of her “greatness”—or so she claimed. Life was good. That is, until the infamous cake incident.

It all started innocently enough. Yn had a habit of stashing snacks around the dorm for “emergencies,” as she called them. One such emergency stash was a slice of chocolate cake she’d shoved into the back of the fridge about a week ago, claiming it was her “hunger savior” for when practice ran late or Mingyu ate all the good stuff (which happened often). Truth be told, she’d forgotten about it—letting it sit there, growing slightly questionable, while she munched on ramen and chips instead. But to yn, that cake was sacred… in theory.

Enter Hoshi, the human vacuum cleaner of seventeen. While yn was away visiting her parents for a weekend, Hoshi, in one of his late-night snack raids, spotted the lonely slice in the fridge. “Ooh, cake!” he’d exclaimed, eyes lighting up like a kid on christmas. The members, sprawled across the living room playing video games, immediately tried to intervene.

“Uh, Hoshi, that’s yn’s,” Jeonghan warned, not even looking up from his phone. “She’ll notice it’s gone. You know how she is about her stuff.”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan piped up, pausing his game. “Remember when I borrowed her earbuds for, like, five minutes and she posted a whole weverse essay about ‘Seungkwan oppa’s betrayal’? Don’t risk it.”

“It’s been in there forever,” Hoshi argued, already pulling the plate out. “She’s not gonna eat it. It’s practically fossilized. I’m doing her a favor!”

“Don’t say we didn’t warn you,” Joshua sighed, shaking his head as Hoshi gleefully shoved a forkful into his mouth. The cake was a little dry, sure, but chocolate was chocolate, and Hoshi wasn’t about to let it go to waste. He polished it off in three bites, licked the plate clean, and tossed it in the sink, grinning like he’d just pulled off a heist. The members exchanged looks but said nothing. They knew the storm was coming—they just didn’t know when.

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

Fast forward to a week later. Yn was back from her parents’ house, none the wiser about her missing cake. She’d been too busy terrorizing the dorm with her usual antics—blasting audios at 3 a.m., dragging members into yet another dance challenge, and propping her cardboard cutout in random places to “surprise” the members (Woozi nearly had a heart attack when he found it in the bathroom). The cake remained a distant memory… until movie night.

Vernon had recommended some artsy thriller that half the members pretended to understand while the other half (Hoshi included) zoned out. They were all piled into the living room, blankets and popcorn everywhere, with yn snuggled up next to Hoshi on the couch. She had her arm looped through his, clinging to him like a koala as she whispered commentary about how the main character “totally deserved to get caught, look at his dumb hat.” Hoshi, still riding the high of his cake crime going unnoticed, just laughed and patted her head. It was a rare moment of peace between the two—until YN’s stomach growled.

“Ugh, I’m hungry,” she whined, loud enough to make Dino shush her from across the room. “Ooh, I know! I’ll just grab my cake from the fridge. Been saving it for a night like this!” She untangled herself from Hoshi, oblivious to the way every single member’s head snapped toward him in unison.

Hoshi froze, mid-popcorn-chew, his eyes widening to the size of saucers. Seungcheol coughed into his fist. Jeonghan smirked like he was about to watch a live comedy show. DK whispered, “Oh no,” under his breath. Even Vernon, usually chill as a cucumber, paused the movie and muttered, “This is gonna be bad.”

“What?” yn asked, hopping up and heading for the kitchen. “Why’re you all looking at Hoshi oppa like that? Did he fart or something?” She cackled at her own joke, oblivious to the tension, and opened the fridge. “Okay, where’s my cake…?”

Silence. She rummaged around, shoving aside a carton of milk and some leftover protein shakes. “Huh. That’s weird. It was right here…” She straightened up, hands on her hips, and turned back to the living room. Thirteen pairs of eyes were locked on her—twelve of them guilty by association, and one (Hoshi’s) practically screaming for mercy. Then, like a synchronized betrayal, every member slowly pointed at Hoshi.

“HE ATE IT!” Mingyu blurted, throwing Hoshi under the bus without hesitation.

“Last week!” Seungkwan added, grinning wickedly. “We told him not to!”

“Traitors!” Hoshi yelped, flailing his arms. “You guys are the worst!”

Yn’s jaw dropped. She stormed back into the living room, glaring daggers at Hoshi, who shrank into the couch like a scolded puppy. “YOU ATE MY CAKE?!”

“It was old!” he protested, voice cracking. “It’d been in there for, like, a week! I thought you forgot about it!”

“FORGOT?!” yn screeched, throwing her hands up. “That was my emergency cake! My ‘I’m-hungry-at-2-a.m.’ cake! And you just… ate it?! Oh, that’s why you’ve been so nice to me lately—cuddling up during movie night, calling me ‘cute maknae’ yesterday! You were covering your guilty little tiger paws!”

“I’m sorry!” Hoshi wailed, clasping his hands together. “I didn’t think you’d care! It was practically a science experiment!”

“Didn’t think I’d care?!” yn gasped, clutching her chest like she’d been stabbed. “That’s it. We’re done. You’re dead to me, oppa.” She spun on her heel and stomped off, leaving the members snickering behind her. Hoshi buried his face in a pillow and groaned, “Why didn’t you guys stop me harder?!”

“We tried,” Jeonghan said, sipping his tea with a smug grin. “You’re just a cake-greedy idiot.”

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

The next morning, the silent treatment began. Yn refused to look at Hoshi, let alone speak to him. He’d shuffle up to her at breakfast with those big, sad eyes, mumbling, “Yn-ah, I’m really sorry… I’ll buy you a new cake, I swear!” She’d just huff, flip her hair, and walk away. By day three, Hoshi was a mess—trailing after her like a lost kitten, holding out snacks as peace offerings (she took the chips but still ignored him), and whining to the others, “She hates me! I’m the least favorite member now—I used to be number one!”

“You were never number one,” Wonwoo deadpanned, not looking up from his book. “Maybe top ten on a good day.”

“NOT HELPING!” Hoshi wailed, collapsing onto the couch dramatically.

Then yn upped the ante. She dragged her life-sized cardboard cutout from its usual spot by the front door and plopped it right in front of Hoshi. “You wanna talk to me?” she snapped, arms crossed. “Talk to her. She’s the only yn you’re getting right now.” Hoshi stared at the cutout—its blank smile mocking him—and whimpered, “This is worse than the silent treatment.”

By day five, yn had turned it into a full-blown campaign. Every morning, Hoshi would wake up to find the cardboard yn propped against his bedroom door, staring him down. Sometimes she’d tape a note to it, like “Day 4 of you being a cake thief” or “Say hi to your new best friend, traitor.” Once, she even drew angry eyebrows on it with a marker, making it look extra mad. The members couldn’t stop laughing—Seungcheol nearly choked on his coffee when he saw it, and DK filmed Hoshi’s pitiful attempts to apologize to the cutout for future content.

“Please, yn-ah!” Hoshi begged on day six, dropping to his knees in the living room while she scrolled her phone, pretending he didn’t exist. “I’ll buy you a whole bakery! I’ll never touch your food again! I miss you yelling at me!”

She peeked over her phone, smirking. “Oh, now you miss me? Should’ve thought of that before you ate my cake, oppa. Say it to Cardboard yn—she’s still mad too.” She pointed at the cutout, now sporting a tiny paper sign that read “Hoshi = Yn Enemy #1.”

The members lost it. Mingyu wheezed, “She’s pettier than Jeonghan hyung, and that’s saying something!” Jeonghan just nodded approvingly, muttering, “I’ve taught her well.”

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

The dorm had been a warzone for nearly a week, all thanks to the Great Cake Debacle. Yn, was still icing Hoshi out—literally and figuratively—still stationing her life-sized cardboard cutout outside his door every morning with notes like “Day 5, Still a Cake Criminal” or “Tiger Oppa = Traitor Oppa.” Hoshi, meanwhile, was a walking disaster—moping around like a kicked puppy, whining to anyone who’d listen.

But Hoshi wasn’t one to give up easily, especially when it came to his chaotic little sister-figure. While out on a solo schedule—a dance workshop in the city—he hatched a plan. On his way back, he stopped at a fancy bakery, the kind with glass cases full of desserts so pretty they looked fake. He stood there, tapping his chin like a general strategizing a battle, then pointed dramatically at the counter. “Two cakes,” he declared. “One chocolate—her favorite—and one strawberry, just in case she’s feeling extra picky today.” The baker raised an eyebrow but complied, boxing up the treats with little bows on top.

Hoshi didn’t stop there. He swung by a convenience store and loaded up a bag with all of yn’s go-to snacks: sour gummy worms, a giant bag of spicy chips, and that weird mango-flavored soda she’d once ranted about on weverse for ten minutes “It’s like summer in a can, oppas don’t get it!”. By the time he got back to the dorm, he was lugging two cake boxes and a plastic bag practically bursting at the seams, looking like a man on a mission.

The living room was quiet when he walked in—too quiet. Most of the members were out or napping, leaving only yn sprawled on the couch, scrolling tiktok with her headphones on. Her cardboard cutout stood nearby, still sporting its angry marker-drawn eyebrows and a new sign that read “Hoshi’s Apology Rejected.” Hoshi took a deep breath, dumped his haul on the coffee table, and plopped down right in front of the cutout, ignoring the real YN entirely.

“Hey, cardboard yn,” he said loudly, unpacking the goods with exaggerated flair. “Look what I got! Two whole cakes—chocolate and strawberry. Plus gummies, chips, and that mango soda the real yn’s obsessed with. I was gonna share it with her, but since she’s still ignoring me…” He popped open the soda can with a dramatic fizz, took a loud sip, and smirked at the cutout. “Guess I’ll just eat it all myself. Too bad, huh?”

Yn’s head snapped up from her phone so fast her headphones nearly flew off. “What?!” she squawked, yanking one earbud out. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Oh, I would,” he shot back, grinning like a cheshire cat. He opened the chocolate cake box, grabbed a plastic fork, and scooped up a massive bite, hovering it inches from his mouth. “Mmm, smells so good. Shame the real yn’s too mad to have some. Cardboard yn doesn’t eat, right? More for me!”

“STOP!” yn screeched, launching herself off the couch and tackling him. The fork clattered to the floor as she wrestled the cake box out of his hands, her voice a mix of outrage and laughter. “You can’t just bribe me with cake and snacks, you thief! I’m still mad!”

“Am I a thief if I replaced it?” Hoshi countered, dodging her flailing arms with a cackle. “Two cakes are better than one old, crusty slice! And look—gummies! Soda! I even got the spicy chips you like! I’m the best oppa again, admit it!”

“You’re a sneaky oppa,” she huffed, but her resolve was crumbling. She eyed the chocolate cake, then the gummies, then the soda, her stomach growling loud enough for both of them to hear. “Ugh, fine! But only because I’m hungry, not because I forgive you!”

“Sure, sure,” Hoshi teased, handing her a fork. “Whatever you say, maknae. Dig in before I change my mind and eat it all.”

Within minutes, they were sprawled on the floor, surrounded by open cake boxes and snack wrappers, laughing like nothing had happened. Yn shoved a gummy worm in Hoshi’s face, demanding, “Say ‘Yn is the best maknae ever’ or I’m starting the silent treatment again!” He complied, mumbling through a mouthful of cake, “Yn is the best maknae ever,” only for her to cackle and smear chocolate frosting on his cheek.

The other members trickled in, drawn by the noise, and stopped dead at the sight. “Are they… okay now?” Dino asked, blinking at the sugar-coated chaos.

“Looks like it,” Seungcheol said, shaking his head. “Hoshi finally found the key to her heart: food.”

“Should’ve known,” Jeonghan muttered, smirking. “She’s pettier than me, but cake fixes everything.”

“Hey!” yn shouted, pointing her fork at him. “I heard that, Jeonghan oppa! You’re next on my hit list!”

“Better hide your snacks,” Hoshi stage-whispered, earning a playful shove from yn.

By the end of the night, the cakes were half-eaten, the snacks were demolished, and YN’s cardboard cutout had a new sign taped to it: “Hoshi = Forgiven (For Now).” Hoshi beamed, slinging an arm around yn’s shoulders. “Back to number one status, right?”

“Don’t push it,” she retorted, but she didn’t pull away, already plotting her next tiktok with him. The dorm was noisy again, the cake war was over, and yn's reign of chaos continued—with Hoshi firmly back in her good graces, at least until the next disaster.

Wedding Wonders

제 말 들으세요. 내가 갚을게. Mark my words. I will get payback.

Description: A few moments involving the Seventeen members and your wedding with Joshua. Warnings: None Genre: Fluff, Seventeen!Joshua x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.5k

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

“Woah, woah, woah.” Hoshi grabbed the guest list from under my hands and held it out in front of him, inspecting it with squinted eyes.

Keep reading

song mingi when i catch you mingi when i catch you i will be pressing 100 delicate kisses to your cutie little freckle on your cheek bc i love it and i love you

Title: Silent Screamer

It all started innocently enough. Seventeen's yn, the group’s chaotic 14th member and resident maknae, had built a reputation among carats as the loudest, wildest, and most internet-obsessed idol in kpop history. She was a full of energy—always screaming at the top of her lungs during practice, posting unhinged tiktok with Dokyeom (her partner-in-crime), and flooding weverse with the most random thoughts imaginable. One minute she’d be ranting about how Vernon ate her last ramen packet “VERNON OPPA, I TRUSTED YOU!”, the next she’d be uploading a blurry selfie with the caption, “is my left eyebrow possessed or is it just me?” carats adored her for it. She was their unfiltered queen.

Her tiktok duets with Dokyeom were legendary. The two of them once spent an entire day recreating every viral sound they could find, from DK dramatically lip-syncing “OH NO, I’M FALLING IN LOVE” while yn pretended to faint in the background, to yn doing an exaggerated aegyo dance while DK wheezed off-screen. Fans lived for their chaos. “DK and YN are the siblings we didn’t know we needed,” one carat commented. Another wrote, “They’re single-handedly keeping my Wi-Fi bill paid.”

But yn’s online presence wasn’t just limited to tiktok. Weverse was her personal diary. She’d post things like: “Woozi-oppa just glared at me for singing ‘Hot’ off-key in the shower… I think he’s plotting my demise,” or “Ordered a giant inflatable unicorn online. Arrived today. Mingyu-oppa popped it by sitting on it. I’m suing for emotional damages.” And don’t even get started on her shopping addiction. Every other day, a new package would arrive at the dorm—random stuff like a neon-green wig “for emergencies”, a set of glow-in-the-dark chopsticks “aesthetic”, or—most infamously—a life-sized cardboard cutout of herself. When it arrived, she proudly propped it up near the dorm’s front door, declaring, “This is so you oppas won’t miss me when I’m out of town! Look at it and remember your precious maknae!” The members stared at it, dumbfounded, as she beamed. “It’s like I’m always here with you!”

“Yn-ah,” Seungcheol had said, rubbing his temples, “we see you every day. We’re not gonna miss you that much.”

“Rude, Cheol oppa!” she’d huffed. “You’ll thank me when I’m on a solo schedule and you’re all crying because I’m not here to brighten your lives!”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan had smirked, “I’ll just cry into this creepy cardboard version of you staring at me every time I walk in. Super comforting.”

She’d stuck her tongue out at him and moved on, but the cutout stayed—lurking by the door like a silent, slightly judgmental yn clone.

She was noisy, she was wild, and she was always glued to her phone. That is, until one fateful day when everything changed.

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

It began during a casual group dinner. Yn was mid-rant about how she’d just spent 30 minutes arguing with a stranger in the comments of a random tweet about whether pineapple belongs on pizza “IT DOES, FIGHT ME!”, when Seungkwan finally snapped. “Yn-ah, do you ever stop being online? I swear, your phone is surgically attached to your hand.” The rest of the members laughed, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah,” Mingyu chimed in, smirking. “I bet you couldn’t survive a day without Wi-Fi. You’d probably cry for your tiktok like a baby.”

“Excuse me?!” Yn shot back, slamming her chopsticks down dramatically. “I am not that dependent on the internet! I could totally live without it!”

“Oh, really?” Jun said, leaning forward with that mischievous glint in his eyes. “Prove it, then. No phone, no tiktok, no weverse, no random packages of useless crap—like that life-sized you by the door that’s been judging me every morning. Let’s see how long you last, Miss ‘I Tweeted About My Sock Falling Off Yesterday.’”

“I DIDN’T TWEET THAT, I POSTED IT ON WEVERSE, OPPA!” Yn screeched, her voice echoing through the dorm. “And that cutout is a gift to you all! You’re welcome! And fine! I’ll prove it! Starting tomorrow, I’m going full mysterious-quiet-yn mode. No posting, no whining, no nothing. You’ll see—I’m not just some loud, whiny maknae who needs her phone!”

DK snorted. “Yeah, sure. I give it three hours before you’re begging me to film a tiktok with you.”

“OPPA, YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE!” yn wailed, flailing her arms. But the gauntlet was thrown. The bet was on.

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

The next day, yn went silent. Like, scarily silent. No random posts. No tiktok updates. No bursting into the practice room screaming, “Hoshi-oppa, I just saw a TikTok of a tiger doing backflips, we need to try that!” Nothing. She just sat there during rehearsals, arms crossed, lips pursed, rolling her eyes dramatically every time one of the members tried to tease her. The life-sized cutout by the door stood as her only spokesperson, staring blankly at the oppas as they walked by.

“Aw, look at our little maknae,” Minghao cooed, ruffling her hair. “Trying so hard to be mysterious. What’s next? You gonna start wearing a trench coat and sunglasses indoors?”

Yn glared at him, swatting his hand away. “I’m proving a point, oppa. Keep laughing. You’ll see.”

The members couldn’t help themselves—they kept poking at her. “Bet she’s dying to check her phone right now,” Wonwoo said casually, scrolling through his own device. “Probably missing her daily dose of arguing with carats about whether cats or dogs are better.”

“I AM NOT!” Yn snapped, then immediately clamped her mouth shut, realizing she’d broken her 'quiet' persona. She huffed, crossed her arms tighter, and turned away, muttering, “Whatever. At least my cutout’s still here to remind you I exist.”

“Oh, we can’t forget you with that thing around,” Hoshi muttered, shuddering as he glanced at the cardboard yn. “I tripped over it last night and screamed because I thought it was a ghost.”

By day three, the fans noticed. Carats flooded weverse and tiktok with posts like, “Where’s YN? Did she lose her phone?” and “No random rants about Dino oppa stealing her snacks… is she okay?!” One fan even started a hashtag: #BringBackNoisyYN. The silence was deafening, and the fandom was in a full-on panic.

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

Fast forward to a week later. Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua decided to hop on a Weverse live to calm the fans down. The three of them sat in the dorm’s living room, surrounded by yn’s pile of abandoned packages. The life-sized cutout loomed by the door in the background, its unblinking stare adding an extra layer of absurdity to the scene. The chat was already buzzing.

“Oppa, where’s yn?!” one comment read. “Is she sick? She hasn’t posted in DAYS!”

“Yeah, she’s usually so loud and chaotic—what’s going on?” another fan typed.

Seungcheol let out a deep, hearty laugh, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, carats, don’t worry. Our maknae’s fine. She’s just… on a mission.”

“A mission?” Joshua echoed, grinning. “More like a tantrum.”

“Okay, here’s the tea,” Jeonghan said, leaning into the camera with that signature sly smile. “Our little yn-ie got mad because we teased her about being too loud and too online. You know how she’s always posting stuff like, ‘Seungkwan oppa yelled at me for breathing too loud’ or ‘I just ordered a disco ball for the dorm, don’t tell Woozi oppa?' Well, we told her she couldn’t survive without her phone, and she took it personally.”

“Very personally,” Seungcheol added, chuckling. “She’s been sulking around the dorm all week, trying to prove she can be ‘quiet and mysterious.’ It’s hilarious.”

The chat exploded. “LMAO YN IS SO DRAMATIC,” one fan wrote. “She’s really out here trying to be a silent queen??”

“She’s doing a decent job, though,” Joshua admitted, smirking. “She hasn’t whined at us in, like, four days. Usually, she’s screaming, ‘Mingyu oppa, stop eating my snacks!’ or ‘DK-oppa, let’s film a tiktok right now!’ But now? She just rolls her eyes and walks away. It’s kinda creepy.”

“Creepy but funny,” Seungcheol said. “Yesterday, Hoshi tried to get her to crack by jumping out from behind a door with that life-sized cutout of herself she got—oh yeah, she bought that thing so we ‘wouldn’t miss her’ when she’s out of town and stuck it by the door to ‘remind us of her greatness.’ Anyway, she didn’t even scream when he did it. Just glared at him and left. I think he’s still traumatized.”

Jeonghan snickered. “Oh, and don’t get me started on her shopping habit. We told her half her packages are useless junk—like that glow-in-the-dark toilet seat cover she got last month, or that cardboard yn staring at us 24/7. She got so mad, she swore she’d stop ordering stuff. But I saw her sneaking a peek at her phone last night. Bet she’s got a new shipment of random crap coming tomorrow.”

The fans were losing it in the chat. “GLOW-IN-THE-DARK TOILET SEAT?? SHE IS A GENIUS,” one wrote. “The cutout so they won’t miss her?? She’s iconic even when she’s quiet,” another added.

“So yeah,” Seungcheol concluded, still grinning. “She’s not missing or sick or anything. She’s just proving a point. Our wild, noisy maknae is trying to be all mysterious now. Don’t worry, carats—she’ll break eventually. She can’t resist tiktok forever. And honestly, that cutout’s doing a terrible job of replacing her—it doesn’t scream or order random junk.”

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

Sure enough, two days later, yn caved. The members were in the middle of a dance practice when she suddenly burst into the room, phone in hand, screaming, “DK-OPPA, THERE’S A NEW TREND WE HAVE TO DO RIGHT NOW! I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!” She shoved her phone in his face, showing off some absurd filter that made their heads look like potatoes.

DK doubled over laughing. “I KNEW IT! You lasted, what, nine days? That’s a new record, yn-ah!”

“Shut up, oppa!” she whined, stomping her foot. “I proved my point! I can be quiet and mysterious! Now move, we’re filming this! And don’t touch my cutout—it’s still guarding the door!”

Within an hour, her tiktok was back online—a video of her and DK cackling as they danced with potato heads, captioned, “My mysterious era: officially over. Miss me, carats?” Weverse followed with a post: “I’m back, oppas are annoying, and I just ordered a lava lamp. Don’t tell Jeonghan-oppa. P.S. My cutout says hi.”

The fans rejoiced. The dorm was noisy again. The life-sized yn by the door stood watch as packages piled up once more. And seventeen's wild maknae was back where she belonged—screaming, posting, and driving her thirteen oppas absolutely insane.

Gentleman? Gentleman. (Joshua hong)

Pairing: seventeen 14th member!fem!reader! X Joshua hong

Warnings: since this is a 14th member fic there would be some or other kind of change in the GoSe episode. Humorous, crack, cursing, Joshua is a menace in the first part, fluff, cursing, teeny tiny angst, Joshua can be a bit flirty if you squint.

WC: 6,616

Sana: I had this idea for over a month and took me so long to execute it 😭. A huge thanks to @bella-feed for helping me with most of the fic and listening to me go on and on about it LMAO. Thank you to @mylovesstuffs for beta reading the whole thing and helping me with the grammar <33 @yudaies thank you ves for beta reading ig as well (I love you 😘)

Tagging: @kflixnet @kstrucknet

Sentences written in [ ] are subtitles! 

Times when joshua made fans believe woozi’s anti-gentleman Joshua agenda: 

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ [Going seventeen 2020] EP.3 돈‘t Lie #1 (Don’t lie #1) 

Sitting beside Joshua, I observed Hoshi closely as I had a hunch that he was the mafia. “It’s Hoshi.” I said aloud which made everyone look at me. 

“What?” Hoshi said in shock as he sat up straight. 

I chuckled and placed my hands on my knees. “I saw the way you reacted when others diverted their attention away from you. You’re the mafia, right?” I said. Upon hearing my explanation everyone started exclaiming in angreement saying that it makes sense. 

“Okay, we will kill off Hoshi in the next round!” Seungcheol exclaimed before it was said that the night had fallen. 

“Make sure that you save me.” I whispered to Joshua since I knew he was the doctor. He simply nodded at my words and placed his head down. 

“The morning has come.” I slowly raised my head up, “Innocent citizen…” I anxiously looked at them as they took a dramatic pause. 

My gaze shifted up when Jun approached me and gently grabbed my hand before pulling me away, “What? What? Wait…what?” I exclaimed in surprise. 

i said i was sorry…

you sighed at the untouched dinner in front of you as the clock struck 12. truth be told, you were already home by 10, waiting patiently for your boyfriend to come home so you can eat your home cooked dinner, together. unsurprisingly, he’s not home on time, so you text him endlessly, hoping to get at least information on his whereabouts or what’s holding him up. but nothing, you get nothing, no texts, no calls, not even a reply or an acknowledgement with an emoji, a sticker or a reaction, just nothing. this wasn’t the first time mingyu was come later than he should have been, but what hurt you was that he didn’t even both answering you, making sure you knew he was safe somewhere, as you ate in silence your own dinner.

you finished your meal slowly, hoping that maybe, even the slightest possibility that mingyu would come home before 11 so you two could spend some quality time together. but of course, that never happened, and right now, it was far past midnight and no sign of him. frustration was evident as you washed up for the night, in disbelief that you haven’t even heard from your boyfriend throughout the whole day. just as your head was about to hit the pillow, the sound of a door creaking instantly brightened up your mood. he was home. it didn’t matter that it was 1am something in the night by now. all that mattered was that he was home. immediately, you climbed out of the blanket covers, walking to the living room to see your long awaited boyfriend.

and if it stops snowing? then count the stars in the sky

nobody talks about how ironic it feels to work in the hospital during the holidays, particularly christmas.

in any other establishment that is open, be it a restaurant, cafe, retail store or convenience mart, employees are greeted kindly with festive cheer–warm wishes and sincere smiles from one stranger to another. but nobody walks into the hospital on christmas with laughter and gratitude for the assistance of the doctors and nurses, because nobody wants to be at the hospital.

nobody plans to spend the day there, either.

where white embodies the nature of christmas itself–joy, celebration, festivity, snow–it changes the moment you step through the sliding glass doors of the hospital’s entrance. white is the sterile and detached appearance of the tiled floors and coated walls. it is the bedsheets and linen of the ward beds which fall short of mimicking home. it is the authoritative coats of the doctors who are the arbiters between life and death; the very same coat that jongho currently wears over his scrubs.

Splash!

Lee Chan (Dino) x gn!reader (no gendered pronouns used)

Genre: fluff

Word count: ~ 1400

Warnings: not proofread, none (maybe mention of the word weaponry?) Please let me know if I forgot anything.

Summary: Reader is enjoying their day off, when they get hit by a water balloon. Chaos ensues

Note: Just a little something I wrote while trying to get back into writing. I hope you enjoy :)

As always: English isn’t my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

Feedback is greatly appreciated :)

Please note that this story is fictional and not meant to represent any Seventeen members in real life!