♡ (yu)mei, 20, they, abc/chinese american | currently on indefinite hiatus
♡ links: about me/carrd (please check byf) | taglist | fics spotify | summer fair drabble m.list | wips list (req currently closed)
♡ carat writers club❣️
♡ sideblog - interacts from @februaryflowers-main
♡ disclaimer: everything i write is fictional, and written as gender neutral with they/them pronouns and unspecified/vague reader appearances unless otherwise stated (i may slip up, and you are always welcome to (gently) let me know). this blog is sfw. i will not accept requests that don’t follow these rules.
wonwoo freezes for a moment, glancing up. shit. you weren't supposed to go there. he starts moving slowly, a hand dipping into his desk drawer as you stare at your computer screen. thankfully, you don't seem to notice the movement.
"a diamond node?" he acts as casual as he can be, tucking something into his pocket. this isn't the plan, but he can improvise. when the hell did you ever go to the quarry...? must have been a misclick on the way to the mines or something. maybe he should have hid the chest somewhere else.
"don't try that shit," you look over. the chest is still open on your screen, and the wedding ring item sits right there at the end of a string of other items--ore, gems, a few bombs he'd thrown in there last second. "wonwoo. were you going to video game marry me?"
"you married us in the sims," he points out. "i was going to surprise you."
"when did you even find another prismatic--" you pause. "wonwoo."
"i got lucky," he chuckles. "well?"
you pop it into your inventory, already pressing keys to go find him in-game. "i'm stealing it. gonna propose to you instead. where are you?"
"i was planting our flowers," he doesn't turn back to his screen. he just watches you with this soft smile on his face. "come and get me, then."
your farmer is booking it down the bus stop's path and onto the farm, searching the neatly organized area for him (his doing, but you did help put down paths). he sees you try to propose in game... and then gets down on one knee when he sees that victorious smile on your face.
"i'll say yes in a moment, but..." he nudges you before holding up the opened box. you turn, and immediately he has to fight back a laugh at the wide-eyed expression on your face. "marry me in this life, too."
before you, jihoon had never referred to his apartment as home.
it was always my apartment, my house, my flat, my place, because while he did like his house, and its white-tiled kitchen and spacious bedroom, something about it felt a little empty. just a smidge — a small, hollow space, like it was waiting for something. or rather, someone.
and then there was you. filling up the space like you’d been shaped exactly right for it; slotting into his life, his place, perfectly.
it started from the very first date: you’d dropped a bracelet in his car when he dropped you back to your own place, and he’d left it carefully on his dresser to return it to you for the promised second date. except jihoon had forgotten, over and over, until you finally came over to his, laughing in that easy way of yours when you spotted it.
that first bubble of laughter spilling from your lips inside his four walls made him think. it was early, still, but that was the moment, the feeling — that this was going to last. you were going to make your little nest in his life, and he was going to be more than happy to welcome you in.
and that’s exactly how it happened. it was slow, at first. your spare toothbrush in his bathroom. an extra bottle of hair conditioner, your favourite brand, his favourite scent. your favourite juice stocked in the fridge.
spare, leftover clothes of yours; jihoon had made space in his closet for you eventually, shifting aside some of his own clothes, making you a divot in the drawers. the day he showed you it — totally casual and cool about it — you’d cried a little, which was both sweet and slightly bitter: he hated seeing you cry. just the fact that you didn’t think he would do something like that for you stung a teensy tiny bit — because he’d move much more than clothes for you, he’d move the ends of the earth if he could.
and then you moved in. which was exciting, more exciting than jihoon would admit. you yourself were buzzed, dancing around your cardboard boxes and forcing him to dance with you. that pretty laughter of yours echoing of the walls, sparkles in your eyes, filling the place with love. making the house a home.
an / can u guys tell i am obsessed with the concept of jihoon in love. it’s important to me.
SYNOPSIS: seungcheol accidentally reveals he has a daughter on a first date and doesn't know how to tell you that his daughter is a dog
PAIRING: csc x reader
GENRE: fluff
TAGS: first dates, dog dad cheol
WC: 575
MESSAGE FROM NU: s/o to this seungcheol for making it out of the dating app conversation phase & making it work bc I did it once and it did not turn out like this
seungcheol doesn't know if he has the heart to tell you that it was all a misunderstanding that he accidentally took too far. several hours of conversations on a popular dating app about various niche topics that piqued both of your interests led the two of you to skip the basics. he didn't find out about your occupation until twenty minutes into the current date.
when you accidentally drop your phone on the sidewalk, he immediately bends over to pick it up for you. but one of kkuma's several hair clips from the last time he walked her falls out of his jacket pocket and slides a few centimeters away from his hand. by the time he slips it back into his pocket, you've already seen the pastel-hued flower clip.
you tilt your head at him while he hands you back your phone as if to ask him who that clip belongs to.
"my daughter" — the answer slips out of his mouth before he can correct himself. he's already so used to calling his dog his daughter that it feels right to address her in that way.
when he realizes his mistake, he's expecting a question from you asking for an explanation about the bomb that he just dropped. his correction forms on the tip of his tongue, but you're quick to beat him. and weirdly enough, you ask him about her clips and whether or not he does her hair every day.
the several pistons that churn his brain are all firing at once. there's a frenzy happening in his mind. are you going to ignore the fact that he said he has a daughter even though the daughter is technically a dog? would you think of him differently? he already knows about how you always look at city bike riders to see if they've adjusted their seats high enough, but he doesn't even know if you're a dog person.
yet he casually continues the conversation. he's been sucked into a black hole. he loves talking about her accessories and the different ways he dresses her up. she's his daughter. of course he's going to spoil her and dote on her all the time. he can't stop talking about her and embarrassingly spends a good chunk of the date talking about her.
he talks about how she's the smartest in her class, how she's a picky eater, and how she sleeps by his side. he thinks you're fully convinced that he has a human child at this point, but he doesn't know when exactly is a good time to casually drop the fact that he has been talking about a dog the whole time.
"do you have pictures of her?" you ask him. the question causes him to physically stop in his tracks.
"huh?" he dumbly asks in response.
"your dog right? I remember seeing a pic of her in your profile." you're smiling at him.
all of the little fires in his head extinguish. smoke rises from the top of his head. gosh, it feels so nice to know that there wasn't a miscommunication. you're a good listener and you pay attention to tiny details that even he might miss. he thinks you're cute, especially the way your eyes seem to smile more than your mouth. he blushes.
"yeah. lots of them." he grins while pulling out his phone from his pocket. "we can picnic with her next time."
It takes two and a half knocks for the door in front of you to open, and for you to be pulled inside of the room with a squeal a little too loud for the close quarters of the dorms. Two and a half, because your knuckles are literally making contact with the door when it opens, and the sound ends up cut off and weird.
Nearly as soon as you’re pulled inside, the door behind you is all but slammed shut and you’re pulled close to Yunho. You can’t help the laugh that leaves your mouth when he looks at you, excited and happy. “Hi,” you manage to get out. Yunho grins back at you.
“Hey,” he says, then presses his lips to your forehead. You almost want to hum at the feeling. “Who let you in?”
“Yeosang,” you respond, letting Yunho place another kiss on your eyebrow. You squint your eye as he moves to your temple. “He said you owe him one.”
Yunho scoffs and you smile. One of his hands tangles with yours, the other on one side of your face. You look at him for a while, lost in the hearts in his eyes and the curve of his cheeks and the slope of his nose, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “How was the concert? Good?”
“Great,” Yunho says, stepping impossibly closer to you. Your back hits his door, and you realize you haven’t seen any part of his room except this door since you’ve been here. “We can talk about it later, though. Missed you.”
“Oh,” you murmur, feeling something familiar rush up through you. Yunho nods, a little like he’s waiting for you to catch up. Your face feels hot.
“Yeah,” he says. He pushes closer and you untangle your fingers, loop both of your arms around his shoulders. Instinct. “I’m gonna kiss you now, ‘kay?”
“Okay,” you say.
“Okay,” he says.
And he does. It’s sweet, and so Yunho; the pressure of his lips and the way he holds you. Gently, but out of care. His thumbs draw indiscernible shapes on your hipbones. And you missed him too – the last few weeks have been texts and FaceTimes – but you didn’t think you missed him this much. Didn’t think you needed him near you this bad.
You feel him smile against your lips and match it, easy, until both of you are grinning and pliant in each other’s hold.
hi i just wanted to say im still around + this blog isn’t abandoned or anything :> i’ll hopefully have some stuff to post this summer before i go back to uni (i have a couple ideas i just need to get myself to write them + my remaining summer fair drabbles from last year😭😅) i am working this summer so idk how much time/energy i will have to write but i will try :>
order up: a vanilla bubble tea with oat milk for jihoon + anon!
a royalty/rich au idiots to lovers fluff
check out the (now closed) carat writers club summer fair event!
warnings: reader is very disillusioned with nobility/noble life and has a lot of thoughts regarding that, not proofread
fluff, 714 words, prince!jihoon x reader
a/n: im sorry anon this didn’t really end up with an idiots to lovers trope in it😭
Sure, everyone dreams of balls and dances, but you can’t think of anything you hate more than these stupid formalities.
Growing up in a family that belonged to the court, you were quickly thrusted into such events, your relatives wanting all hands on deck in promoting their position and reputation. And you absolutely hated it. Stuck up aristocrats always have, and always will, rub you the wrong way, their condescension and arrogance simply strangling any joy or any sort of excitement from everyone and everything around them.
Now, older and wiser, you still hate them and these frivolous parties. Although, a new reason has come on top for your loathing of these events.
Standing alone on the balcony, the wind blows past and sends a chill down your spine. Moving your hands to the rail, you glance down at the social below, your eyes instantly falling on Jihoon making small talk with another prince. Instead of sitting here with you, he drones on and on, chattering about nothing with leaders of other kingdoms, powerful allies in the court.
You get it. It’s not like he has a choice. His parents are insistent that he stick to his responsibilities before he can let loose (as much as a future king can) for the night. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t a little disheartened or annoyed that he isn’t laughing with you over the stupidity of the event, a supposed “half birthday party” for the prince.
So you simply plop down on one of the seats on the balcony, your fingers and toes tapping to pass time until he’s freed from his duties for the time being. It’s the life you both live, hating everything about the gilded cage but still unable to escape it.
But when the French doors open, the curtains in front of them parting to reveal the man of the hour, the month, the year, the century, you can’t help but think maybe it’s worth it, only if it’s him.
“Sorry,” he sighs, falling down next to you and letting his head rest on the back of the bench’s cushions. He rubs his eyes before he turns his face towards you with a shake of his head. “The Hong family was really insistent on talking about trade policy.”
“It’s okay,” you murmur, taking his hand. He lets you play with his fingers as you let your own little breath. “I understand.”
Sitting in silence allows the chatter below to rise and find your ears, but it never truly roots in your mind. Rather, everything you need is right here, right next to you. Squeezing his hand, you bring your fingers to his hair, twirling the strands around your digits before you pat and smooth them down.
The quiet motions bring a hum from his throat, almost like that of a purring cat laying in a sunny window.
But the moment quickly dies down when loud orders are barked from within the palace, Jihoon jolting up and staring at the door. Following his movement, you rise and loop your arm through his, glancing to his face.
As expected, the curtains covering the glass quickly are overcome by guards and workers, but they blink at the sight before them.
“Well, I guess that’s where the prince went,” one of the knights mumbles.
One of the butlers then bows, taking the handle in his grasp. “My apologies, Your Highness. I didn’t realize you were occupied.”
They’re gone as quickly as they came, and you know any moment truly alone with Jihoon, one where nobody else knows where you both are, is fleeting. Everyone wants to know.
But, now left to your own devices on the balcony, you let your eyes wander back to the prince’s reddening face.
He shakes his head, meeting your eyes. “Let’s get out of here,” Jihoon whispers into your ear.
Taking your hand, Jihoon pulling you towards the exit, you both break into a sprint, speeding down the halls past distinguished nobles and uptight royalty.
Yes, Jihoon is a prince. Yes, he has a world of responsibility and reputation he must keep. Yes, Jihoon will be a king one day. But, with you, Jihoon is simply a man hopelessly in love, and that’s his most treasured title he will ever have.
lab partner seonghwa please ☺️🔬🧪 hope you are well!
yes ofc :] thank you,, im just slowly making my way through uni haha,, i hope you’re doing good yourself + here you are :> (i actually got a lil too excited n couldnt pick just one excerpt so a semi-longish one + another small one 😅)
ask game: send me a wip for an excerpt :}
The density of chondrocytes in Example One is 1370.968 cells per square millimeter. The total example sample has a viability of 70.63% but this number should be higher if this sample is to be used for medical purposes. We hypothesize that…Seonghwa is really cute. We hypothesize that he would be the sweetest boyfriend ever. We hypothesize that this low percentage could be due to the area from which the sample was taken.
Did you delete that part? Wait, and Seonghwa is reading the document now…
“Oh my god, holy shit, no, no, no,” you cry, racing over to the bench as fast as you can (within laboratory safety precautions, of course). “Sorry, I think I messed something up, Hwa! I must’ve forgotten to check my units or—”
His cheeks are tinted as he looks up from the laptop to your eyes. “Hm?”
Did…he read that? You bite your lip, glancing between him and the document pulled up. The cursor blinks innocently next to a 1298.236 cells per square millimeter, but you don’t know if you like the way Seonghwa’s bottom lip is tucked between his teeth, the way his cheeks are puffing out the longer you stare.
“Sorry, lemme just—” You pull your device towards you, quickly scrolling up to the paragraph and deleting all mentions of your stupidly lovable lab partner.
Glancing to Seonghwa, who's now putting on the goggles and gloves you brought back for him, you sigh when you see his cheeks are still tinged a soft rose, possibly having grown even brighter than before in these few moments.
When he finds your gaze, he gives you a small wave, a glove half on him with its empty fingers flailing as his hand moves. His eyes widen as he notices, quickly pulling the glove on properly and turning around with burning cheeks to finish with the equipment.
Just because you've gotten rid of the words on the screen, doesn't mean they were never there in the first place.
He knows…
The warmth comes quickly, a brush of air floating past the rim of your ear. You know you should jump right now. Why on earth is there something so hot near your face? That’s not a good sign, especially considering where you are right now. But…you simply don’t.
And the reason why comes quickly after, which makes you actually want to jump this time.
“How’re our cells looking?” Seonghwa murmurs, his lips feeding his gentle voice right into your ear, his breath blowing over your skin. "You think we're good?"
