note. an experiment on what would take shape if I let the films' plot and characters interact w the members. peep the easter eggs (allusions to svt/solo songs). I haven't encountered other ghibli x svt content, but if there is, this is just my spin on it as an ardent ghibli lover! I'm new to the svt fanfic community as a writer (mostly have been reading), so come say hi if you're so inclined! as everyone says, reblogs are appreciated <3
CHOI SEUNGCHEOL as SHO from The Secret World of Arrietty
Resting before a surgery just around the corner. Friends being far away. Grappling with loneliness. My mother used to tell me about the little people who lived under the floors. Sugar cubes left for the Borrower to find. Well-meaning deeds with disastrous consequences. Learning to love hidden sorrows. When I saw you, I just wanted to find a way to protect you. You gave me the courage to live.
YOON JEONGHAN as HOWL PENDRAGON from Howl’s Moving Castle
A charming smile. Strolling across the sky. He’ll eat your heart. A fierce love for magic meets a deep hatred for conflict. His ideals against the world. Mischief that cloaks gentle care. A secret garden. The boy who swallowed a star becomes a man with someone to protect. A heart’s a heavy burden. There you are, sweetheart; sorry I’m late, I was looking everywhere for you.
HONG JISOO as KAZAMA SHUN from Up on Poppy Hill
Seeing flags hoisted every morning. Soaked in water—a daredevil feat (for a cause). Inserting a poem in the school paper. Famous around the school. Quiet moments of everyday life. A mischievous gentleman. The past casting its shadow. Going to the city with the wishes of others on his back. Feelings that can’t be denied. Suppressed emotions that overflow into confrontations. Eventually things fall into place.
WEN JUNHUI as OGAKI KANTA from My Neighbor Totoro
Sticking his tongue out at the new neighbors moving in. Simultaneously shy and impish. Unexpected acts of kindness. Offering his umbrella despite getting drenched himself. Observant. A softening to the new faces that grows into genuine concern. A willingness to help. An outsider to his neighbors’ sadness, but somehow cognizant of it. Not quite willing to be seen, but craves it nonetheless.
KWON SOONYOUNG as TOMBO from Kiki’s Delivery Service
The boy with a flying bike and bright smile. Attention swept away by the town’s new (flying) arrival. Needling questions are rebuffed, yet he remains undeterred. An invitation to a party. Being stood up in the rain. A wish to fly channeled into creativity. An innocent desire to ride the dirigible turned crisis, turned crisis averted. Elevates himself from mild annoyance to dear companion.
JEON WONWOO as HORIKOSHI JIROU from The Wind Rises
Airplanes (dreams) that make the rest of the world fall away. A eureka moment with a fishbone. Helping a stranger without a second thought. A chance encounter, years later. Proposing during a weekend vacance. Marriage where the days are numbered. In candlelight: one hand working, the other clasping his lover. Beautiful, cursed dreams. You must live. The ghost of love rises with the lonely wind.
LEE JIHOON as HAKU from Spirited Away
A prodigy of magic. Sometimes strict, always caring. His motives are unclear, but his kindness is undeniable. Rice balls offered for strength. A white dragon soaring through the skies. You don’t remember your name? —No, but somehow I remember yours. A grave injury. Kindness that comes full circle. Missing pieces return all at once. A last promise: that we will meet again.
hello! can i request woozi with jealous prompt 'what? me? jealous? never'? thank youuuu ><
ⵌ jihoon x gose director!reader.
ⵌ word count: 1,019.
ⵌ notes: i can't stop writing about jihoon,, 🧎
Jihoon has long since accepted that he can be a jealous man when it matters.
He considers it harmless because it gets him moving. Jealous of a different group's success? He works doubly harder to make good music. Envious of someone else's build? He puts in more hours at the gym.
Jealousy is Jihoon's friend. At least, that's what he keeps on telling himself as you praise Soonyoung for his 'initiative'.
Another day, another filming for Going Seventeen. Today's concept is Christmas-themed: A Secret Santa shopping trip with a negligible budget per person. Jihoon knows he should be focused on getting something halfway decent for Chan— the member he had randomly picked earlier in the day— but he keeps getting distracted.
Soonyoung is looking just a little too pleased, a little too smug at your doting. Jihoon can practically hear the way his best friend is preening as he announces, "It's nothing, really. Just a little idea I had."
Jihoon doesn't even know what the two of you are talking about. He does know, though, that he's not going to hear the end of it from the rest.
It's an open secret, after all, that Jihoon has a crush on you.
He's always found it a bit inconvenient, really. He never thought he'd be the type to catch feelings for a staff member, but forced proximity and your undeniable charm have left him helpless.
It's just a crush, Jihoon has told anyone and everyone who teases him about it. I'll get over it.
Except it's been maybe a year and Jihoon is decisively not over it. He's preparing to deliver some variation of the same denial as Wonwoo sidles up to him, the latter grinning in an infuriating way.
"Don't start with me," Jihoon grumbles, his fingers tightening around the extension arm of his designated GoPro.
Wonwoo raises his shoulders in a shrug. "I'm not saying anything," he says in a tone that very much indicates his plans to say something.
A beat. And then, Wonwoo prompts, "Jealous?"
A derisive snort of laughter escapes Jihoon. He could lie, say something along the lines of What? Me? Jealous. Never, in an attempt to get his friends off his back. But they'd see through him anyway, so what was the point?
"Maybe," Jihoon answers. When Wonwoo only stares at him, Jihoon amends, "A little."
Wonwoo laughs at Jihoon's easy acceptance. The older man throws an arm around Jihoon's shoulders, the force of it almost sending the latter faceplanting into a shelf of keychains.
Jihoon is in the middle of biting out an annoyed "Could you not?!" when Wonwoo stage-whispers to him, "Don't worry. The director has a favorite, and it's not Mr. Steal-Your-Girl over there."
Before Jihoon can even question the taunt, Wonwoo is already peeling off to accomplish his task. The words echo a bit in Jihoon's mind. A favorite. Your favorite.
He wonders, briefly, what it would be like— to have that privilege.
He shakes his head, as if to empty his head of the thought. Wonwoo was just teasing, and Jihoon still has to find a gift for Chan. He spends the next thirty or so minutes wandering the department store, internally debating what to get the group's maknae.
Jihoon is weighing the merits of a Bluetooth shower speaker when he next hears from you.
"You know," you say from behind him. "Those have terrible sound quality."
It's only through years of conditioning that Jihoon doesn't jump, but he can't help the way his heart rate picks up ever so slightly. Still, he manages to keep his expression perfectly calm as he glances over his shoulder.
You look every bit like you always do. Clipboard in your hands; headphones hanging around your neck. An easy grin. The picture of the director who has robbed Jihoon of all his rational thought time and time again.
"Well, you didn't give us much to work with," he answers dryly.
"That's the challenge," you tease. "A low-budget exchange gift."
Jihoon sets down the speaker before turning to fully face you. "What would you suggest, then, if this is a bad gift?"
Your gaze flicks down to the GoPro. You didn't typically converse with the boys while they were shooting; if you did, the content was typically cut.
Something compels Jihoon to hit the 'pause' button on his device. "Off the record," he insists, a corner of his lip tugging up in the ghost of a smirk.
There's something unmistakably fond in the way you laugh, in how you choose to indulge Jihoon instead of insisting that he should keep filming.
"You got Chan, right?" You tilt your head to one side as if you're mulling it over. "I saw him fawning over the tealight candles earlier. If you're in the mood to be a menace, though, he thought the beanie hats were deplorable."
Jihoon lets out a chuckle of his own. "Got it," he says. "Candle, hat. Thanks for the intel, director."
It should end there. He should walk away, should turn the GoPro back on and film the rest of the show.
But Jihoon has never been very good at doing what he should, and his mind keeps replaying Wonwoo's earlier words.
And so, he finds himself asking, "What about you?"
Your eyebrows raise. "Me?"
"What would you like for Christmas?"
You look thrown off. Understandably so. "Oh," you say, your tone just a little softer. "That's not—"
Necessary, you're probably going to say. Jihoon cuts you off with a small shake of his head.
"We could have a little exchange gift of our own," he goes on. Jihoon has no idea where this is all coming from. The confidence in his flirtation. The smoothness of his words. It's a rare thing, but he's not going to let it go now that it's here. "I'll get you something if you get me something."
You laugh again, and then you give Jihoon the perfect opening. "What would you even want for Christmas, Jihoon-ah?"
Jealous has always been Jihoon's friend. It gets him moving.
zayne; 1,616 words; fluff, pining, gn!reader, no "y/n", spoilers for lads ch.4, whipped!zayne
summary: he has never loved the winter
a/n: yes, this was inspired by that one chinese tiktok song. no, i will not elaborate.
He has never loved the winter.
But he remembers the first time he watched the snow fall reflected in your eyes — your cheeks kissed pink by the unforgiving wind, the sky a smear of white as the cold sunk into his bones. He remembers the silver bell ring of your laughter as you’d dragged him by the hand out to build a snowman, the look on your face when he’d remarked that your snowman’s nose was crooked because there were no carrots at the corner store so you’d had to make do with a potato instead.
“Look! It’s snowing!”
Zayne shakes himself into the present, glancing out of his office window at the cotton-soft flurries spinning by his windows. Across from him, you’re sitting with a muffler thrown haphazardly around your shoulders, watching the snow with an open, child-like wonder that makes his entire chest twist tight with —
He clears his throat.
“All the more reason for you to be careful — make sure to bundle up when you go outside,” he says, dropping his eyes back to your most recent health report.
You’re not sleeping enough, and your vitamin D levels are lower than he’d like. He’d hoped that becoming a Hunter would at least expose you to a decent amount of sun but then again, you had told him that Jenna’s been keeping tight reigns on you since the explosion.
“Yeah, yeah — I’ll be careful.”
He looks up, his eyes dark as he looks over the shape of you, fingers curled in your lap as you look up at him from beneath your lashes. He holds your gaze and fights to keep his expression neutral as you blush and look away, somehow reverting back to a much younger version of you — the memory of it superimposed upon the look of you now.
“You’re just as bossy as you were back then,” you say, sighing as you shrug up your shoulders like a scolded child.
Zayne scoffs, affording himself a small laugh, “Except I have a doctorate to back it up now, don’t I?”
You pout, pursing your lips. Zayne wonders, for the millionth time that day, how soft they might be beneath his own.
“I liked you better before you got your fancy creds,” you say, still pouting.
Zayne sighs, flicking off his tablet and putting it down on the table.
“Alright, what do you want?”
You blink up at him, eyes wide enough to convince anyone else of your innocence. But he knows better. He’s always known better.
“What do you mean?”
He ticks his tongue against his teeth and leans back in his chair, checking his watch.
“It’s almost lunchtime — c’mon.”
He pushes up from his desk and tugs his doctor’s coat from his shoulders, rolling them loose of the tightness that had gathered there all morning.
“Huh?”
He rounds his desk and tugs his winter coat from the back of the door, turning to fix you with a look.
“The noodle shop around the corner has your favorite as a lunch special.”
He counts down from five in his head — four, three, two —
“Really?” your face breaks into a grin wide enough to split your face. He chuckles.
“Yes, really. Are you coming?”
You stare for a second longer before leaping to your feet and bounding to his side. He reaches out to adjust your muffler, tying it tighter over the front of your chest, swatting your hand away when you try to loosen it.
“I’m going to choke!”
“Better that than for you to get sick again.”
He tugs open the door and watches you walk into the hallway, a bounce to your step that he hasn’t seen since you were both kids and he’d promised you he’d buy you sweets on the way home from school.
“How’re you so sure that the lunch specials gonna be my favorite?” you ask, pivoting on your heels and fixing him with a look, halfway down the white-washed hospital halls. Zayne takes his time buttoning up his own coat and locking his office door behind him.
“Because,” he says, voice steady as he strolls by you, glancing down with the shadow of a smile crimping his lips —
“I know you.”
* * *
He has never loved the winter.
But, he thinks as he watches you slurp down a bowl of wide-cut noodles, your cheeks flushed red with joy, he might just learn to love a winter like this.
You don’t question it when he reaches out to swipe at the corner of your mouth with this thumb, licking off the excess with a contemplative hm. But he revels in the way you swallow and blush and look away.
He wonders if you know.
He wonders if you know that you haunt him like the cold haunts him on the nights when he’s alone. He wonders if you see him the way he sees you, cast behind his eyelids like the frames of an old film whenever he closes his eyes, your smile more familiar to him than his own.
“Full?” he asks, watching as you wipe your mouth on a bit of napkin, lips stained red by the chili sauce.
“Mhm!” you nod, smiling up at him.
The noodle shop smells of chicken stock and green onions and the sharp dampness of snow on winter coats. You push the noodle bowl away and stare down at your hands.
“Are you — I mean… you have to go back to work, right?”
He can’t help but notice the note of reluctance in your voice, the way you look up at him as if hoping he’ll say no. He nods, folding his napkin into halves, and then forths. Outside, the sun is already falling toward the far horizon, casting everything in a goldenrod glow. Shadows fall long and sure along the pavement and Zayne doesn’t want to think about the endless hours of darkness ahead.
“Are you going home after this?” he asks, nodding stiffly to the waiter as he hands over his card, wordlessly pushing your hand away as you make a feeble attempt to try and snatch the receipt.
“I… was thinking about going to see a movie,” you say, thumbing at a stray thread along the edge of your coat. He watches you tug at it for a while before reaching out to take your hand in his.
“Go home,” he says, his voice level.
Your brow creases in a slight frown as you look up.
“But… I wanted to see —”
“We’ll see it this weekend,” he says, giving your hand a quick squeeze before letting go, thanking the waiter as he takes back his card and scribbles his signature on the receipt.
“We will?” you ask, blinking up at him as he stands up.
“Yes. It’s showing Saturday at 2:30 — we can get lunch before, or dinner after.”
He’s tugging on his coat when you reach up to loop his scarf around his neck, standing too close, so close he can smell the caramel milk and whipped cream of your skin. He fights down the shivers that threaten to shake down his spine as he goes still, waiting as you tuck his scarf securely around his neck.
“You never tie your scarf right,” you say, dropping back down onto your heels even as you shoulder on your own coat, cheeks dusted the most darling shade of pink Zayne has ever seen. As he watches you, he thinks it might just put the winter sun to shame.
He thinks he might thank you, or he might just bend down and kiss you — he’s uncertain all the way till you make it outside and you turn to smile up at him. And like this, with the dying sun caressing the edge of your cheek, the line of your jaw, you are nothing short of ethereal.
Zayne reaches forward, his thumb and forefinger catching your chin as he leans down.
Your gasp is little more than a hiccup of breath —
“Don’t be late,” he says, stopping mere inches from your lips, whispering the words against where your lips might be if he were a little more daring.
You hold perfectly still, your eyes round as you stare up at him, searching his face for… something — anything.
When he pulls back, he thinks you almost make to chase him. But you let his fingers drop from your skin and you tug at your muffler, toeing at the slushed-up snow on the sidewalk.
“Winter’s my favorite season, y’know,” you say. And Zayne doesn’t dare to hope. But he does — he watches you out of the corner of his eyes. Above you, all around you, the afternoon sun flickers and fades, a daytime aurora, like tendrils of some long-gone magic, coaxing willing believers toward their untimely doom.
“Hn,” he says, not trusting himself with more. He waits; you take a long breath before turning to look at him.
“You wanna know why?” you ask. And finally, finally he turns to you, his eyes catching your eyes — and in them, he sees the twisting colors of the sky reflected there, serpentine and sinuous. Ancient and inexorable. Reds and yellows, pinks and purples, bleeding into an endless, endless winter blue.
He wets his lips and swallows hard, “Why?”
You smile, and it is like the first glimmer of sun after an arctic winter’s night, and he can’t breathe for the sight of it.
uni is death and sunny days and war and laughing until your stomach hurts and rainy days cuddled to your friends’ side and sobbing in a stranger’s arms and picking at your face in a mirror you don’t recognize and the all too familiar and gut wrenching feeling of being known and alive
The following examples have been taken from the book The Emotion Thesaurus: A Writer's Guide To Character Expression by Angela Ackerman & Becca Puglisi - make sure to get the book!
ANGER
DEFINITION: strong displeasure or wrath, usually aroused by a perceived wrong
PHYSICAL SIGNALS:
Flaring nostrils
Sweating
Holding elbows wide from the body, chest thrust out
Sweeping arm gestures
Handling objects or people roughly
A high chinNoisy breathing
Legs that are planted wide
Baring one’s teeth
Repetitive, sharp gestures (shaking a fist, etc.)
Cutting people off when they speak
Jerky head movements
Protruding eyes Flexing the fingers or arm muscles
romaincrisis
theartofmadeline
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areudirty
izzy806
kaledo-art
