Welcome! Hello, my name is Bookish and welcome to the page. While I don't have a lot of rules, I do have a few. But before that, I want to say I am an aspiring author and hope to one day publish my own book. Before then, I am working up my courage by writing not just here but on Tumblr, Ao3 and Patreon. While many of my things will be free, as this is my only source of income, I will have a few things that will be Patreon paid-access only. Now enough of that, moving on to what I am happy to write.
What I will write
Light BSDSM, spanking, flogging, handcuffs, edging, nipple play, dirty talk (slut/whore are okay). Appropriate age gaps (a 22 with a 27, a 40-year-old with a 35-year-old)
Brother's/Sister's best friends trope, One Bed trope, Enemies to lovers.
What I won't write
Rape, dup con, consensual non non-consensual, any form of abuse,
Racism, bullying, anti LGBTQ talk, sexism
Age play, daddy/daughter kink, stepdaughter/son-stepfather relationship. Stepmother-stepdaughter/son relation
riding mingyu’s face would literally make my whole year…
the way he would literally love this too - tongue lapping around your glistening hole, occasionally dipping it inside of you with a breathy groan. he would grab your hips and grind it down harder on his face, your sensitive bud catching on the tip of his nose. the low hum of satisfaction he’d let out against you would vibrate through your whole body. when it got too much, you’d lift yourself off of his face by an inch, only to make eye contact with his grinning face. your juice coated his chin, his lips swollen from sucking and kissing your cunt.
Jezebel hated being overstimulated. It was the way her every nerve felt raw and exposed, the way every sound burrowed into her skin, making her feel like something was crawling all over her. Leaving the venue proved to be the hardest. People were excited, talking loudly, pushing her out of the way to get to the door. Juniper and Aera did their best to help. Juniper had lent her a pair of headphones that cut back the worst of the noise, and the pair of them had formed a protective shield around her. Still, she didn’t feel like she could breathe until they were outside, the cold air hitting her face.
It was once they were outside, the cold air grounding her, that she let herself smile. Today had been challenging, harder than she ever imagined it would be. The fan meet had left her dizzy, confused about a sudden feeling of being tugged towards Jihoon. The sound check and concert had been even worse; the crowd pressed her roughly against the barrier, and she was almost certain she was going to have a bruise. The entire day had been filled with a thousand tiny moments that she wanted to run, to give up and admit this just wasn’t something she could do. The fact that she had stayed, had carved out a tiny place amongst the chaos for herself, had her giggling with pride. She had done it. She survived.
“Hey, are you driving?” Aera asked, her voice soft, full of concern, as she pulled Jez from her thoughts.
“Oh no. My sister, in every way but blood, is meeting me at the hotel a block over. We have a room there. She wanted to come but got called into work. Not that I mind, well, I did, but it works well because now she can bring Binx. Thank you again for the headphones, Jun. They really helped.” She knew she was rambling, not that she could stop the words from tumbling out.
“It was no problem. I am glad they helped. Aera and I are staying at the same hotel, so once you have centred yourself, we will walk with you.” It was moments like these, little ones, where Juniper, June, or Aera so easily accepted her needs that she felt confused. So few people ever noticed, let alone didn’t judge her for them.
“Do you two always adopt anxious people, or is Jezzy just special?” A voice called out, one that Jez knew better than her own. With a squeal that is a mix of relief and joy, she turns to find Sorya. Despite being 5`3, her best friend cut through the crowd with ease, a confidence that had always left her in awe. At the moment, though, it was the small, tiny, black pug that was tugging hard on his lead as he tried to get to her that held her attention. Sorya waited until Jez was on her knees to release the pug, who came bounding toward her in a series of excited barks.
“Oh, she is just special. We usually keep to ourselves, but something about her screamed she’s our type of people.” Aera chuckled.
“However, if she had said she was a Hoshi bias, we would have had issues.” June teased.
“Oh yeah, she is more Jihoon. She's always going on about how she's worried he forgets to eat when he gets working.” Sorya chuckled before introducing herself. Once Aera and June had done the same, her green eyes fell onto Jez. “By the way, we are stuck waiting for a bit. The bridal party that was staying in our room and a few others still haven't checked out. They are giving us free access to a VIP lounge, a free extra night and free meals. Overcompensating for being booked and it being so late.”
Jez let out a small groan, trying to hide the annoyance and irrational flare of anger that hit her. It wasn't anyone's fault, not really. And while it certainly felt like it, the world wasn't out to be against her. She had just so badly wanted to crawl into bed with Binx, snuggle the little pug as close as he would allow it and turn herself off. She had spent all day surrounded by people, jostled and overstimulated, so that the idea of bed was like heaven. It would also give her plenty of time to figure out what to do with Jihoon.
He had been kind in his reply, assuring her that he didn't expect anything, thanking her for giving him a chance. Yet her stepfather's voice was a constant loop in her head. Girls like you don't get soulmates. She wanted to believe he was wrong, that Sorya was right, and she deserved love, but she wasn't sure she believed it, and what did that say about all of this? Sure, he was interested now, when he didn't know her past, how broken she was, but would that change if she let him in? Would he run?
Before she could spiral any further, a gentle hand on her elbow snapped her back into the present. The chaos of the hotel’s front lobby crashed against her already spent nerves.
Binx let out a small whine, jumping at her leg, and she bent without thinking. His front paws wrapped around her arms as she lifted him, his tiny body already nestling against her chest, his head tucking beneath her chin.
“The lounge is this way,” Sorya said softly. “I told them you’d need a private and quiet place. It’s dimmed—secluded—only a few VIP guests and us. There’s food. You don’t have to do anything except curl up in a chair with Binx and decompress. I brought my book. I’ll be fine.”
The edges of panic dulled at her words. Another soft hum travelled down the bond, smoothing the sharpness of Jez’s anxiety. Relief clouded her features, and she nearly leaned her full weight into her friend.
“Do you mind if we stick around?” Aera asked quietly. “Our rooms aren’t ready either.”
Jez nodded. “I don’t mind. You don’t need to be quiet—”
“We do,” June cut in gently. “You need to let your nervous system settle. And don’t try to spiral. If we wanted to be loud, we wouldn’t have asked.”
Sorya laughed softly. “Oh. Oh, Jez—I like them. They get it. Official seal of approval.”
She took Jez by the elbow, smiling gently, and led her toward the lounge.
It was, as promised, quiet and dim, tucked away from the chaos of the hotel. Large, comfortable chairs were arranged in a way that felt intentional—cozy without being crowded. Jez zeroed in on one in the corner and curled up.
Binx let out a small snort as he shifted on her lap before settling, his chin resting on the arm of the chair as he faced the door. The others chose seats farther away, giving her space. The simple consideration made her want to cry; they meant it. They didn't want anything from her. Instead of letting it spill over, she closed her eyes and, for the first time since she left, let herself relax.
No one wanted anything from her. No one crowded her space. She could finally breathe. Binx’s weight was a steady anchor against her legs as she let herself drift, Sorya’s voice a soft, familiar presence reminding her that she was safe enough to rest.
Jihoon
Jihoon knew without seeing her that Jez was near. The tug that had settled during the night was back, instant in a way that it hadn't been since the concert. Looking up from where he was seated, sunglasses on to avoid anyone recognizing him, he watched as she walked in. She seemed calmer this morning. Wearing a flowy royal blue dress and a jean jacket that she had her fingers curled around. A small black pug pranced beside her, ears up and alert, growling when an employee got too close. He could feel the slight spike in anxiety, but it was subtle, quieter. She spoke softly, showing him something before the man nodded and stepped back. Allowing her further access. No doubt her VIP access badge, since this was the private breakfast lounge.
She moved slowly, deliberately. Making herself a plate before grabbing a coffee, moving to a far table by the window. The sunlight washed over, causing highlights of Carmel to show in her auburn hair. The dog settled at her feet, head on his paws, alert but settled.
He turned, taking a bite of his fruit as he weighed his options. The bond was nearly wild, tugging harshly, and he could see the way each tug caused her shoulders to tense before she forced herself to relax. He would need to handle this slowly, carefully. Fingers drumming against his table, he looked up just in time to see Imogen walk in, his laughter at the sight of the girl bubbling up.
Imogen was not a morning person, which was evident in the scowl on her face and the hard set of her shoulders. Beside her, Cheol seemed amused but quiet, guiding her to his table.
"Morning, Noona." He sang, laughing at the grunt she gave him. "Cheol, get her coffee before the gremlin decides to eat us all." As he teased, his gaze flickered over to Jez, who was watching them now. Steady, intent, surprised. He smiled but turned his attention away, letting her choose what happened next.
"Mingyu to the rescue." The younger man sang, the broad-shouldered giant leaning over Imogen to deliver her favourite iced coffee, beaming when he got the rare and coveted morning smile.
"God bless you, Kim Mingyu," Imogen muttered before taking a long sip, a sigh of content leaving her.
As the usual morning chatter surrounded him, Cheol, attempting to get Imogen to talk beyond grunts, Mingyu, planning what to do on their rare day off, his gaze flickered back to Jez. She was studying him now, not intensely but clearly having an internal debate. He smiled warmly at her, watching her slowly return the smile before staring into her coffee cup like it held the secret to life.
"Isn't that the fan from yesterday? The quiet one?" Mingyu asked, voice laced with concern. While she may not have known it, Jez had been the hot topic last night. All his members were worried, Joshua to the point he admitted sending her a cold bottle of water in the middle of the fan meet. When he slowly, gently, explained the bond, they shared his concerns about how to get to know her without driving her away. Without making her think she lost her voice, her control, her anatomy.
"Yeah thats Jez."
"I want her dog," Imogen muttered, giggling when Cheol let out a dramatic sigh.
"Sure talk for the dog but not your boyfriend." He playfully pouts, grinning in triumph when Imogen leans up and kisses him quickly on the lips. He shook his head, a playful eye roll at them all and then stilled as Jez stood. Her coffee in one hand, a full plate in the other, she moved with what could only be described as terrified determination. She hesitated a few tables back, watching him before moving again, the little pug trailing happily beside her.
"Is... well... is it okay if I join you? I mean, if you want to be alone, I get it... I..."
Warnings: Body imagie issues, PTSD, mentions of past abuse, fluff.
“I am used to men viewing my body as something they can control, something they can own. It wasn’t mine. It wasn’t something I was allowed to protect, to control. It was theirs. If I said no, if I tried to protest, they would make me feel bad or take it, telling me we are dating, it's fine. They would push until I gave a yes and not care when I would cry from dealing with it later. My parents made it worse, little comments about how I am lazy, how I really shouldn’t be eating that.” She isn’t sure why she is telling them this; she never meant to, she wanted to talk about something else, but the words came pouring out. Both men stood still, watching her with a mix of fury and heartbreak, and she froze, awaiting the laughter, awaiting the well, your body does belong to us. But it never came; instead, Seunchoel moved slowly, carefully, as if she might be startled.
“May I say something?” He asks, his voice cautious, warm. When she nodded, slowly, cautiously, he gently brushed the hair from her face. “Your body isn’t an object; it belongs to you and only you. Your body is perfect just the way it is. It protected you, kept you safe, when your mind couldn’t process the danger. The men who taught you that, they weren’t men, they were boys raised on the belief that women are something they can own. That yes can be forced and still equal consent. I am proud of you. Proud of you for surviving, for not letting them change you, still being this beautiful and kind woman who made not just me, but Yoongi, fall head over heels for you. You don’t have to believe me, my words can’t erase years of abuse, or harsh words and consequences, but if you allow me, allow us, I would like to show you.”
“He’s right,” Yoongi said softly, his voice gentle and grounding. “You don’t need to love your body. We can start slow, just accept it. If you want to, we can tell you daily that your body is yours and only you can decide what happens to it.”
“Wait.. you both want to stay with me? This isn’t.. This hasn’t scared you off?”
“It doesn’t scare us, and of course, we do. We love who you are, and this doesn’t change that.” Yoongi said softly, grounding, so sure that she had to blink. She didn’t expect this, didn’t know how to react now that they weren’t confirming everything she had been taught. Leaning back into the couch, she let out a slow, uneven breath.
“I wasn’t expecting that.” She admits. “I’ve gotten so used to expecting people to hurt me that I forgot people could care.”
“You can be surprised, but it’s not your fault that no one else has done this before. That makes you any less valid.” Yoongi said softly.
“We take things at your pace, no expectations, just us being here, seeing you exactly as you are,” Seuncheol assures her, his hand hovering just above her hairline. She closes her eyes at the gentle touch, relishing in the fact it wasn’t demanding, it wasn’t taking anything, just providing a soft sort of comfort she had long since believed never existed.
“Can we just… sit for a bit. Together?” She asks, relaxing a little as both men nod, moving slowly as they sit on either side of her. Neither move to touch her, just kept their hands close, allowing her to decide the next move. Slowly, she places her hands in their’s, letting out a soft, sigh.
“I forgot safety could exist.”
“We will show you every day that not only does it exist, but that you deserve it,” Seunchoel promised. For the first time in a long time, she felt that they would. After all, they had so far defied everything else she thought she knew.
Pairing: Lee Jihoon/Woozi x Jezebel (OC)
Choi Seungcheol/S.Coups x Imogen (OC)
Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, self-doubt.
Story Warnings: Brief mentions of childhood sexual abuse. Body image issues. Anxiety, PTSD. Eventual Smut. It's a slow burn.
Blurb:
Jezebel never meant to stand out.
At a fanmeet, she keeps her voice low, her hands to herself, and her expectations even lower. Just another fan—quiet, chubby, from Canada—passing through Lee Jihoon’s life for only a minute.
Jihoon notices anyway.
And when their eyes meet, something unexplainable sparks between them—a thread neither can ignore. An accidental meeting and an exchanged number turn into late-night calls, time-zone confessions, and a friendship that feels too real to be safe. Jihoon falls first, deliberately and without apology, while Jezebel stays convinced that a man like him could never see her as more than a friend.
As Seventeen folds her into their orbit, Jihoon struggles to hide his feelings, and Jez struggles with understanding that she isn’t a burden.
A slow-burn soulmate romance about quiet love, chosen family, body image, and the moment someone finally says I choose you
Jez stepped out of the room where the fanmeet was held, the cool air hitting her face, and let out a soft breath of something close to relief. The lobby was still crowded, clumps of fans pressed together, exchanging stories of their minute with each member. She found a place against the wall, hugging her album to her chest as she started to box breathe. Before she could make it past one, a woman with a badge on her shirt, making it clear she was staff, was before her.
"Jezebel?" She asked, and Jez blinked, trying to figure out what this was about. She didn't say anything else, just handed her a bottle of cold water, the expensive kind, the chill doing more to ground her than her breathing. Before Jez could question it, or even thank her, she was gone again. Confused, she stares at the bottle before remembering the radio host she won the vip experience from had said refreshments would be provided. Figuring that was it, she takes a sip, the cold water feeling like heaven. Feeling a little more like herself, she slid down the wall, crossing her legs and studied her album.
The cardboard was worn around the edges now from hours of being used as an anchor. But it was the signatures, a mix of black and silver Sharpie that had her smiling despite everything. She had actually done it. She carved out room for herself in the chaos, existing in their world for a brief moment.
It was then that she felt it again, that sharp tug behind her ribcage, but this time it was something like relief, not her own, that coursed down it. The unsettling reminder of it caused her to suck in a breath. So she hadn't imagined it. The idea of a soulmate bond had always filled her with a mix of pure dread and hope. On the one hand, this was someone who, with luck, would see every broken piece of her and love her regardless. Who would choose her when the world wouldn't? But on the other hand... girls like her don't get soulmates.
She can hear him now, her stepfather, his voice low and amused. "You get a soulmate? Girls like you don't get soulmates. And even if you did, who would want you? They would reject it." His words burned like venom beneath her skin, and she picked at the edge of her album.
She tried to focus, focus on the signatures and then she saw it. The number, written neatly beneath his name. The sight of it caused her heart to race, nausea to turn in her stomach. Hands shaking, she grabbed her phone. Ignoring the rant Sorya had texted her about the parents of the kid she was helping and opened the chat.
Jez: (Lilo) I was at the fan meet and felt the thread. He even left his number. What the hell am I meant to do?! He's famous, Ray, he could have anyone! Why me? Why would fate do this? To take away the band that made this anxiety shit bearable? They can't be my safe place now?! I'll remember the time he rejected me! Or worse, what if he DOESN'T!? It would just be the bond making him want me! You heard my stepdad?! No one would want me!
She hit send, watching as the dots appeared, the sight causing her to breathe a little easier. Sorya was there. She would make it stop. She would drive out his voice, make her forget the touch of his skin on hers.
"AERA, I FOUND HER!" Juniper’s voice cut through the noise, through her panic like a knife. Pulling her so suddenly from the ghost of her stepfather's memory that she was a little disoriented. “Don’t hide like that! We thought you got trampled!”
"Why were you looking for me? You don't need to take pity on me anymore.” Jez whispered, word tumbling out before she could stop them. Once they were out, Juniper froze, her eyes narrowing into tiny slits. Jez flinched; she really hadn’t wanted to make her mad. Before she could even begin to apologize, though, Juniper cut her off.
“Oh no!” Juniper snapped. “You don’t get to let anxiety rewrite this!” Jez flinched, but Juniper didn't soften; she just got steady, as if she was determined to make each word land with meaning.
“We didn’t befriend you out of pity. We befriended you because you seemed like you were about to jump out of your skin. We befriended you because we know what that is like.” Juniper gestured to Jez's bag, which was handmade with the phrase ‘All Time Low makes me happy, you not so much.’
“We befriended you because you have an All Time Low bag, and honestly, that just makes you cool. We didn’t have to befriend you. We did it because we wanted, and anxiety doesn’t get to frame that as pity.”
Jez swallowed, shame coating her features. “I am so sorry. I just… I had a few people I used to call friends mention I'm exhausted, and if they didn't feel so bad for me… Sorya said they are idiots.”
“First, I don't know Sorya, but honestly, she's right. They are idiots. Second, damn you really need to meet better people. Lucky for you, better people found you, and sorry we don't leave once you are chosen.”
“So that's it? Juniper, are we friends just like that?”
“It's June to you, and I am aiming towards your inner circle, but for now.” She shrugs, linking her arm through Jez's. Squeezing her arm as she gives Jez a warm smile.
“Yeah. Just like that. Now come on. We misplaced Aera, and I'm not doing the whole ‘let's spread out thing’ again.”
As June tugged her through the crowd, calling out for Aera, Jez felt her phone buzz with a notification, her shoulders relaxing as she read Sorya's words.
Sorya: (Stitch) First off, we have long since established your stepfather knows jack shit. So stop listening to that man and listen to me instead. The soulmate bond doesn't force you; it doesn't take away your choice. It's not like the movies where you become the center of their galaxy and feelings for every other woman in the world fade to nothing. It's a choice, and if he gave you his number, he made his. He chose to try to get to know you. He's already chosen you; he could have done nothing. Chances of you meeting again are slim, but he chooses to give you a way to reach him. Now you get to choose: to give the poor guy a chance or to let your stepfather take away something else. The choice is yours, but Stitch, I hope you choose him. Call me if you need me.
Reading her friend's words, she takes a gentle breath. Taking advantage of June and Aera reuniting, only half listening as June explains the previous events to type in the number she memorized without meaning to and prayed it wasn't a sick joke.
Jez: (Lee Jihoon?) Hey Jihoon. You left your number on my album. I hope it's okay that I reach out.
“June is right, you know,” Aera said softly. “We never do anything out of pity. You’re one of us now.”
“Now let’s get to the soundcheck,” June added with a laugh, “and don’t worry. I won’t let anyone trample you—I’ll be in my best guard dog mode.”
“She looks harmless,” Aera said, smirking, “but trust me—you just gained Scary Dog privileges. June grew up with six older brothers. They taught her how to be a princess with the skills of an assassin.”
“Honestly,” June said with a dramatic sniffle, “that is the sweetest thing you ever said about me.”
Jez laughed, tiny but genuine, as they entered the main venue area. Their badges were scanned, and Aera snagged them spots right against the barrier. Taking a deep breath, Jez focused on the girls beside her and prepared to see him again. Fear and hope flared in her chest. Would he even notice her?
As if answering her thoughts, a calm hum drifted down the bond—a gentle reminder that she wasn’t alone. Just before the boys walked onto the stage for soundcheck, her phone buzzed once and glancing down at her phone, she felt her heart in her throat. He answered.
Jihooon (Jez) Hey! Thank you for reaching out. It’s really okay. I was hoping you would. I wasn’t sure if leaving my number would give you the wrong impression. But I wanted to give you a choice. Even if you choose to let this turn into nothing, thank you for answering me.
Jihoon
For the first time during a concert—or even a soundcheck—Jihoon’s head wasn’t fully in it. His attention stayed locked on Jez, her body pressed against the barrier, fingers gripping it so tightly her knuckles had gone white. The girl beside her was elbowing anyone who got too close, again and again, fierce and unapologetic. Jihoon wouldn’t have been surprised if she walked away with bruises, but it was clear she was on a mission: protect Jez at all costs.
None of that, though, stopped the panic bleeding through the bond—raw and sharp enough to make his breath hitch. It would ease during the songs, sometimes disappearing entirely beneath flashes of joy at certain ones. But the moment the last note faded, it came rushing back. He watched her eyes drift toward the exits, the quiet battle between staying and leaving etched plainly across her face. He had spent the time between songs, during the quick wardrobe changes, sending a soft melody down the bond. One he had written years ago but never finished, and found soothing. Hoping it wasn’t too much, but growing a bit bolder each time the hum was meant with a softening around the edges of her panic, dulling it so it wasn’t as sharp, easing it just enough she could breathe.
“You have been distracted all night,” Seungcheol asked, pulling him aside after the concert, the others walking ahead, sending him worried glances. He rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at his hyung, his words coming out in a rush.
“At the fanmeet, I met a fan, Jez, before I even saw her. I could feel it, a thread pulling me towards her. I could also feel her, her anxiety, her overstimulation, all of it as clear as my own. Seeing her, she looked so small, like she wasn’t used to people seeing her. It’s clear someone hurt her, and I don’t want her to think I am only interested in her because of this bond. I’m not. I don’t expect anything from it, I just… I want to help her feel a little less scared of the world. I left her my number, I didn’t want her to think I didn’t feel it or was out rejecting her. She answered, and I told her I don’t expect anything but...”He trailed off, taking a breath.
Seuncheol didn’t answer right away, just let them walk in silence, his usual tell that he was processing important information. He clasped a hand to his shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly as he stared at Jihoon.
“Do you hear yourself right now?”
“What?”
“You aren’t talking about her like a soulmate, like you expect a thing from this. You are talking about your fear, not for yourself, but for her. That right there tells me fate was right about this. She needs someone who is going to care. You also have handled everything right. You haven’t pushed her, you haven’t asked her for her time or space. Just let her know you see her, and it’s her choice what happens next.” The silence fell again as they passed staff, neither wanting word of this getting out just yet.
“People forget that the soulmate bond is a choice. It wasn’t a bond that made me fall for Imo, it was her. Her spunk, the way she so naturally defended us all, the way she never once saw S.Coups, I was always just Cheoli to her. A bond doesn’t create that. It just goes ‘hey that one right there is the one that is going to get every single part of you’ and then lets you decide the rest.”
“She may not answer me back.”
“And if she doesn’t, that's her choice, but honestly, someone who says they don’t expect a thing is always worth choosing.” His phone dinged then, quiet but loud all at once, and he smiled at the name on the screen.
(Jez) Oh.. thanks. The concert was great! You rocked it. Make sure to rest. He smiled, he could feel her panic, the fear, but still she answered and not only that… she cared about him too.
An imagine focused on Yoongi, Seungcheol and the reader. The reader is dating both and they help her with her body image after years of SA.
A second imagine based on the reader dating Seungcheol and telling him, off handledly, that she never got to play safely as a child and wishes she could play Barbies and with Monster High dolls, an easy bake oven and heal a little piece of her. The boys instantly surprising her with it, explaining its okay to heal that inner child. (PLEASE NOTE THIS IS NOT AGE PLAY)
I am hoping to get a BTS fic figured out and in the works and chapter one of my "fixing the plot holes and Tom Riddle not being evil but Dumbledore is" fic!
And lastly more Az and Nymeria coming your way with free
Why do I now want to write an imagine with Az and Nymeria that is inspired by Free from the demon hunters 😩🙄 this is why i shouldn't listen to music while in my feels. Damn.
Pairing: Lee Jihoon/Woozi x Named Plus Size reader (Jezebel)
Author's Note: HAPPY NEW YEAR. It is finally here. I hope you all enjoy. I did change it a little to add a soulmate bond, but it will mostly focus on healing, trauma and finding found family.
Warnings per chapter: Insecruities.
Warnings per fic: Smut, mentions of PTSD, past childhood SA/abuse, past mentions of rape, body insecurities, swearing,
Plot:
Jezebel never meant to stand out.
At a fanmeet, she keeps her voice low, her hands to herself, and her expectations even lower. Just another fan—quiet, chubby, from Canada—passing through Lee Jihoon’s life for only a minute.
Jihoon notices anyway.
And when their eyes meet, something unexplainable sparks between them—a thread neither can ignore. An accidental meeting and an exchanged number turn into late-night calls, time-zone confessions, and a friendship that feels too real to be safe. Jihoon falls first, deliberately and without apology, while Jezebel stays convinced that a man like him could never see her as more than a friend.
As Seventeen folds her into their orbit, Jihoon struggles to hide his feelings and Jez struggles with understanding she isn’t a burden.
A slow-burn soulmate romance about quiet love, chosen family, body image, and the moment someone finally says I choose you
Check it out on patreon:
Get more from BookishHufflepuff on Patreon
Lee Jihoon knew that when it came to his music, he was a perfectionist. It was why he was bent over his guitar, strumming the same chords over and over, trying to make the lyrics sound less hollow, less like they were written by a tired man. His fingers tapped against the wood of his guitar, studying the lyrics, when the notebook was closed suddenly, a pair of soft hands stole his guitar and replaced it with a tray of food.
“Lee Jihoon, stop stressing and eat.” Imogen, Seunchoel’s girlfriend of three years, scolded as she sat down, her long red hair falling into her face. “The fan meet is in two hours, and you need to eat and then get ready.” He stared down at the food, a bowl of rice and honey-glazed ribs that he knew she had made herself. Imogen was always cooking for them, her calm a steady presence amidst the chaos.
“Thanks.” He whispers as he glances up at her, giving her a small, grateful smile. “I just want to get it right.”
“Jihoon,” She says softly, her voice kind and warm, as she reaches over and gently ruffles his hair. “The fans don’t care if your chords are perfect right now, they care about you. You being healthy, not stressed. You need to give yourself a break. You have time to get this next album done. I mean, hun, you JUST released your last album. Give yourself time.” Logically, he knew she was right. He was the only one putting pressure on himself. Even Bang PD had told him to take a break. But the restlessness remained.
The door swung open, and Soonyoung appeared, all but vibrating with energy as usual. “Ready, Jihoon? The line is already insane, and Seokmin said the fans began screaming an hour ago.” Before he could answer, Hoshi saw Imogen and let out a happy cry before tackling her in a hug that Seungcheol had to rescue her from.
“Yeah, I’m ready.” He answers after taking a sip of cold water, trying to remember when Noona had slipped it near him.
“You look tired,” Mingyu said bluntly as he entered, handing him a bottle of water. “Finish eating because I don’t want to carry you off stage. And I don’t think we can hold Noona back either.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m eating.” He mutters as the others file in, the usual chaos drowning out the subtle sounds of the city outside. Pushing the tray away, he picks up his guitar, strumming a few chords, not obsessively this time, but in enjoyment, the soft sound blending in with the chaos. This was the part he liked the most, the sounds his brothers all around him, the ease of the chords. As he plays, Imogen settles into the spot beside him, her legs tucked up under her, her head resting on her hand as she watches him.
“You are going to be okay.” She whispers, and for the first time, he feels like they were true, as if everything would be just fine.
Sooner than expected, Imogen was announcing it was time, tugging Cheol down to give him a long, lingering kiss that caused them all to whistle at, before ushering them out. As she always did, she squeezed his hand softly as he passed, a silent promise that he got his, that it would be fine. As company policy stated, she wasn’t allowed outside the greenroom or to be seen anywhere near them, but it was also a quiet promise that she would step in if needed.
As they headed down the hallway, the sounds of the fans screaming grew louder, the fan chant filling the air. A small smile graced his lips as he listened to the sound of the fans who adored them all. Hoshi seemed to be feeding off his energy, growing to an infectious manner. As the doors opened, his nerves hit as the sound of the screams became almost overwhelming. Sensing it, Cheol leaned in, his voice raised enough to be heard above the noise.
“Breathe, the fans just want to see you happy. You got this, just smile.”
“Don’t overthink it,” Mingyu promised, squeezing his shoulders. Taking strength in his members all around him, he fell into the routine with ease. Shaking hands, smiling, signing albums, taking quick selfies, offering soft words of thanks as they sobbed. As he worked through, smiling amidst the chaos, he felt something tug at the edge of his focus. Something quiet, curious and unfamiliar. Everything blurred together, just as it always did until it didn’t.
His pen froze mid-signature, the motion faltering for half a second too long. His chest tightened with a strange, unfamiliar feeling, one he had heard about his entire life but never believed in, like a thread settling into his chest. Blinking, he scolds himself, forcing himself to focus as he finishes the signature, thanking the fan with a soft and kind smile. As she stepped aside, his gaze flickered over the next few fans in line, their faces blurring together and the voices blending into noise.
His heart skipped when he felt again, closer now, stronger. Not anxiety. Not exhaustion. Recognition. He swallowed, breath shallow, his fingers tightening around the pen in his hands. As the next fan stepped forward, his breath caught.
No way. He thought, pulse thudding. Not here. Not Now. Not like this. The pull strengthened, warm and steady in his chest. The stories always said it would feel like coming home to something you didn’t know you were missing. He always thought that part was exaggerated, told by love-struck couples who rambled about fate. He never expected to feel it, to find it.
Jezebel
Jezebel Hayes has been standing in line for hours and feels like she is getting nowhere. She reshuffled her weight, the ache in her calves burning as the line shuffled forward slowly. Around her excitement buzzed like static. Voices overlapping, lightsticks clicking, a few fans ahead, a girl screamed loud enough that it made her wince. Pulling her sweater over the swell of her hips, she started to focus on the texture of her album clutched to her chest, grounding herself in something solid.
“First fan meet?” A voice asked from her behind her, soft and gentle, as if she knew Jez might startle otherwise. Turning, she found two girls, both around 30, watching her with a steadiness that felt comforting. One was blonde, with bright curls that fell in waves down her back. The other has jet black hair with blue tips, slight waves adding texture to her hair.
“That obvious?” Jez asks with a shy giggle, a blush covering her features.
“You are hugging your album like it’s a shield.” The raven-haired girl chuckled kindly. “I am Juniper, by the way, and this is Aera. If it makes you feel any better, though, I am beyond nervous too.”
“Jezebel.” She answers, accepting Juniper’s hand as Aera bowed towards her. Not dramatic, just a small bend in the spine, a show of quiet respect.
“It helps to remember you don’t have to be anything other than yourself,” Aera said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“She’s been through this before; this is her second one. I begged her to come with me. I am so nervous to meet them all.” Juniper rambled, falling into step beside Jez, filling the air around her with a nervous, excited energy that was contagious. As she moved closer to the front, Juniper’s chatter went in and out of focus. She nodded where she thought she should, but her attention kept slipping to the front of the room. She could see the table now, not well but enough to make out Seungcheol’s form, the way the light washed over his face, alight with a joy as he listened to the fan in front of him. The noise swelled with every step, getting louder the closer to the thirteen members she got.
Her chest felt tight, her breathing shallow, with every tiny step, not that she knew why. It wasn’t panic or fear, not exactly. It felt heavier, like anticipation. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she rubbed her thumb against the embossed lettering on the album, grounding herself yet again. You can do this. She told herself, mouthing the words to make them hold a little more weight. Aera noticed, adding her own words of encouragement that caused Jez to smile.
“You made it this far,” Juniper assured her, her hand squeezing her shoulder.
“They won’t judge you, just be kind, smile, and respectful. The staff only gets involved when fans get too close to them, pushing boundaries.” Aera assured her. Somewhere up ahead, a fan broke into tears, loud and hysterical enough that Joshua was halfway across the table, trying to help her. Another was trying to speak, mixing Korean and English, too excited and nervous to stick to a single language. Jez watched it all with a strange sense of detachment, as if she was watching it all through a piece of glass. She had just taken another step when it happened.
It wasn’t a touch, just the sudden, unmistakable warmth that bloomed behind her ribs. She froze mid-step, causing Aera to crash into her, the girl's voice rising with concern that Jez barely registered. Her breath caught as her fingers tightened around her album as the noise around her fell to a dull, low hum. Inside her chest, just behind her ribs, was a slow, instant, tugging, one that seemed sharp and terrifyingly familiar. She never thought she would get one, especially didn’t think to find it here. Her panic skyrocketed, coiling around the unshakable feeling of recognition.
“What the hell?” She muttered, just barely loud enough to catch Juniper’s attention.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” Jez muttered, not bothering to tear her gaze away from the front of the room, her eyes flickering over each of the members as her mind raced to make sense of what was happening. “Just the crowds.”
“Dude, I totally get that,” Juniper assured her. With the girls' easy assurances, questions on how to help, she felt a pang of guilt for not being fully honest. It wasn’t just the crowd that was bugging her, but the sudden, unmistakable feeling of being noticed.
Jihoon
Jihoon’s pen stilled, not because the fan in front of him had done anything wrong; she was sweet, crying as she explained the impact his lyrics had on her, but because the warmth in his chest suddenly surged sharply enough to steal his breath. An anxiety that wasn’t his flared suddenly. It was overwhelming, enough to have his teeth on edge. As a fan screamed, the noise jostling, he realized it wasn’t his anxiety. His eyes lifted from the album without thinking, flickering through the crowd until he found her, the noise, the faces, all blurring together as she came into focus.
He could tell by looking at her that she had been through it. She stood with her shoulders rounded, as if she was attempting to make herself smaller, as if she was scared to take up space. She clutched her album to her chest, rubbing the letters as if the album were an anchor. As recognition hit him, the warmth in his settled, threading itself deeper, like something that had always been there, finding its place.
He turned away, forcing himself to focus, finishing the signature before handing the album back. Thanked her profusely for the kind words, for being a part of the reason he wrote. She beamed at that, tears falling faster, harder as she stepped away, ushered towards Soonyoung. Taking advantage of the few seconds he had free, her watched her again. Her anxiety was a strong force, unforgiving, and he instantly hummed a soft, quiet melody of a song he never finished, sending it down the bond, praying it would work. She froze, her eyes flickering up, wide, startled, but he could feel it, the way her anxiety smoothed around the edges. He watched as her shoulders relaxed, the more sent that calm, steady humming, felt the calm that flared in her chest.
Beside her, the fan said something, her features relaxing a little at the words. The thread inside of him pulled, triggered by her growing closer. It was gentle, persistent, as if it wanted him to move. Not now. He told himself as he watched her, noticing the way she pulled her sweater down, hiding herself. Shame flaring suddenly in his own chest, not his, hers. This bond wasn’t meant to be rushed; it was meant to provide safety.
The next fan stepped forward, and he smiled, forcing his attention onto the fan. Thanking them for coming, for supporting them, but his awareness stayed fixed just beyond the table. As he did, he noted the two girls beside her, one animated and warm, the other observant and steady, both working to distract her from the screaming that surrounded her, shielding her without crowding. He felt relief bloom in his chest. She wasn’t alone. She was three fans away, getting close enough that the bond settled, as if aware of what was about to happen. As he waited, he grounded himself, preparing himself to shift from the idol persona he wore during these. He didn’t want her to meet Woozi, but Jihoon.
Before he knew it, she was in front of him, and all he could do was watch her. She looked softer than he expected - not fragile, just careful. Her eyes, a dark brown with flecks of gold, were wide but steady, taking him in. The album in her hands was worn around the edges, as if she had picked at the sides without noticing. Her fingers remained curled around it, as if giving it up would send her drifting. For a brief moment, neither spoke before he leaned against the table, smiling softly.
“Hi.” He said, reaching forward before he stopped just short of touching her as he smiled, not the polished one, the real one that barely made it past the private walls.
“Hi.” She whispers, her voice is soft and a little gentle, a little breathless. He glanced at the album again, noting the name written in Joshua’s familiar writing.
“Jezebel?” His voice was soft, carrying with it a small note of recognition.
“Most people call me Jez.” She mutters softly, her eyes widening as if she hadn’t meant to correct him.
“Jez.” The warmth tightened in his chest as he repeated it slowly, memorizing as he tested the sound. Something in her expression shifted, softening, as if she didn’t hear it spoken kindly often. He slid the album towards him, signing in his name, before, in much smaller letters, adding his number. “Thank you for coming today.”
She smiled then, shy and hesitant but genuine. “Thank you…for the music. It helped me through a few things.” His chest ached as he caught the pain behind her words.
“I’m glad it could; that means a lot.” She watched him with a quiet curiosity, her eyes flickering between his face and the careful movement of his hand.
“Are you okay?” He asked, watching as the question catches her by surprise, as if she wasn’t aware the subtle spike in anxiety had been noticeable. She blinks, confusion mixed with shyness clouding her features.
“Oh.. I… yes, I am fine.”
“Good, I’m glad. If it gets too loud, remember, don’t be afraid to take a step back and don’t feel bad for needing to take a step away.”
“Thank you. It was lovely to meet you, Jihoon.” Jihoon, not Woozi, the difference made his heart ache with recognition, the bond flaring briefly.
“Likewise.” He says softly, wishing he had more time, as he notices the staff ushering her towards Soonyoung. “Take care of yourself, Jez.” He watched her walk away before picking up his pen, preparing for the next fan, but something had already changed. They found each other, and they weren’t running away.
I have recently decided that I am going to write small scenes that make me feel seen, heard in a sense that I never really get. These won't focus on abusive actions, but healing. Scenes of being understood, listened to, and cared for. But I want to include you, so you send me a name, a quick moment you need in real life but haven't found yet, then hit me up. It doesn't have to be your name. It can be a character name, a name you always liked.
So, for example, Amy, a scene where Suga/Yoongi is gentle and soft with his partner, who has chronic pain.
or "Woozi standing up to Amy's abuser and telling him the only monster between the two of you is the one who abused a child."
"or Draco helping you flee an abusive relationship."
Lee Jihoon knew he was a perfectionist. He didn’t need his brothers to tell him as much. His music needed to be perfect. It was why he was bent over his guitar, strumming the same chords over and over, trying to make the lyrics sound less hollow, less like they were written by a tired man. His fingers tapped against the wood of his guitar, studying the lyrics, when the notebook was closed suddenly, a pair of soft hands stole his guitar and replaced it with a tray of food.
“Lee Jihoon, stop stressing and eat.” Imogen, Seunchoel’s girlfriend of three years, scolded as she sat down, her long red hair falling into her face. “The fan meet is in two hours, and you need to eat and then get ready.” He stared down at the food, a bowl of rice and honey-glazed ribs that he knew she had made herself. Imogen was always cooking for them, blinking slowly as he tried to get his mind back from the music.
“Thanks.” He whispers as he glances up at her, giving her a small, grateful smile. “I just want to get it right.”
“Jihoon,” She says softly, her voice kind and warm, as she reaches over and gently ruffles his hair. “The fans don’t care if your chords are perfect right now, they care about you. You being healthy, not stressed. You need to give yourself a break. You have time, lots of it, to get this next album done. I mean, hun, you JUST released your last album. Give yourself time.” Logically, he knew she was right; he was the only one putting pressure on him, even Bang PD had told him to take a break. But he felt restless. He hesitated, then picked up his chopsticks, eating slowly as he allowed her words to sink in.
The door swung open, and Soonyoung appeared, all but vibrating with energy as usual. “Ready, Jihoon? The line is already insane, and DK said the fans began screaming an hour ago.” Before he could answer, Hoshi saw Imogen and let out a happy cry of Noona before tackling her with a hug that Choel had to save his girlfriend from.
“Yeah, I’m ready.” He answers after taking a sip of cold water, trying to remember when Noona had slipped it near him.
“You look tired,” Mingyu said bluntly as he entered, handing him a bottle of water. “Finish eating because I don’t want you to pass out in front of the fans. And I don’t think we can hold Noona back either.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m eating.” He mutters as the others file in, the usual chaos drowning out the subtle sounds of the city outside. Pushing the tray away, he picks up his guitar, strumming a few chords, not obsessively this time, just in enjoyment, the soft sound mixing in the chaos. This was the part he liked the most, the sounds his brothers all around him, the ease of the chords. As he plays, Imogen settles into the spot beside him, her legs tucked up under her, her head resting on her hand as she watches him.
“You are going to be okay.” She whispers, and for the first time, he feels like they were true, as if everything would be just fine.
