omg I feel like a wife writing to her husband who's deployed since I haven't been here in a HOT minute...hello my shayla how are you doing? the world misses you😓
KING !!
i guess i am deployed like jaehyun ig..... but hii theo !
i miss u 😛 i am fine but like really busy (kmskmskms) whatever tho !! i wanna get back into writing but just don't have time to sit down and like come up with shit anymore :<
also no one asked but currently hyperfixated with idntt, close your eyes, and lngshot like oml why is 5th gen so GOOD rn.
anyways hi everyone still alive, drafts are like non-existent so like when the times align something will release (will not abandon u guys)
summary : summer is almost over, but you and riku steal one last day at the beach together. between the waves, laughter, and a photo you never expected, the memory lingers longer than the season itself.
warnings : fluff, established relationship, playful riku, annoyed reader, cute + aesthetic beach day
a/n : i miss summer. also nct wish's comeback is the best music ever oml
queueing : love is a losing game - amy winehouse, surf - nct wish, reel-ationship - nct wish, wichu - nct wish
the 'perfect' beach trip starts with riku insisting he’s fine carrying everything at once. the tote bag stuffed with snacks, the blanket folded on top, the little cooler wedged awkwardly against his hip. he has it all balanced with a determined look like he’s proving something.
you trail beside him, holding only the camera bag, which makes you feel a little guilty. but the way he groans dramatically every few steps tells you he’s enjoying the bit too much to interrupt.
“you’re doing this on purpose,” you say, squinting at him.
riku huffs, shifting the weight on his shoulder. “i’m suffering for us. true love.”
“you could just let me help.”
“and rob you of the chance to appreciate your strong, capable boyfriend? no way.”
you giggle but let him win, following him down the sand until you find a spot that feels perfect. a little distance from the clusters of families and kids with plastic buckets, close enough to the shoreline that the tide feels near but not threatening. the sky is wide open above you, streaked with pale clouds and sunlight.
riku immediately drops everything with a sigh of relief and flops onto the sand. “finally. nap time.”
“you could've let me at least carry the cooler” you mutter, but you can’t help smiling as you shake out the blanket and lay it flat.
he stretches out on it lazily, hair already messy from the breeze, while you carefully unzip the camera bag. the familiar weight of the polaroid in your hands makes your mouth curl upwards. you’d packed it without much thought, but now that you’re here, it feels like exactly the right choice.
“ah,” riku says when he spots it, perking up. “you really did bring it!”
“of course,” you reply, setting the strap around your neck. “the beach is perfect for pictures.”
riku smirks, propping his chin on his palm. “and who’s the model?”
“you, obviously,” you say without hesitation.
he laughs, tipping his head back. “me? perfect subject. go ahead.”
you start simple. “okay, just sit like that. look at the ocean. pretend you’re… reflective. deep in thought or something.”
he nods solemnly, shifting his gaze to the horizon, posture surprisingly composed. for a moment, you think it’s working. you raise the camera, angle it just right—
and then he turns, cheeks puffed, lips puckered in exaggerated aegyo.
the shutter goes off before you can stop yourself.
“riku!”
he breaks into laughter, rolling onto his back as you shake your head. when the film develops, you hold it up accusingly. riku with closed eyes, puffed cheeks, and a finger to his kissy lips.
“iconic,” he says proudly, reaching for it.
“this was supposed to be aesthetic,” you groan.
“it is! aesthetic cuteness.” he wiggles his fingers, doing the same face again.
you roll your eyes but line up another shot, determined. “okay. real one this time. i mean it. serious face.
he presses his lips together, adjusts his posture again, even furrows his brows like he’s deep in thought. it looks promising.
you raise the camera. the second before you click, he flashes a huge grin and throws up a peace sign.
click.
“unbelievable,” you mutter.
“two for two,” he teases, already reaching to snatch the film as it slides out. he shakes it gently, waiting for the image to appear, and laughs when it does. “see? i’m a natural.”
you glare, but it doesn’t hold. especially when he suddenly crawls over, plops down beside you, and pulls you into frame.
“your turn,” he says.
“riku—”
too late. he presses the shutter, grinning as the film develops. the photo is a little blurry, both of you laughing mid-frame, but the warmth in it makes your chest squeeze.
“see?” he says again, smug but soft this time. “better than your idea of aesthetic.”
you don’t argue. you just slip the picture carefully onto the blanket, safe from the wind.
time passes easily. riku sprawls on the blanket, tearing into a bag of small donuts, while you wander closer to the shore. the sand is cool beneath your feet, firmer near the waterline. each wave curls forward, rushing up before slipping back, leaving glistening trails behind.
you lift the camera, not aiming at riku this time but at the sea itself. you frame the horizon, the line where the water meets sky, the way sunlight flickers on the surface. click. another angle, foam breaking over smooth sand. click.
for once, you’re not worried about how perfect it looks. you’re just… watching, appreciating. breathing in salt and breeze, letting your shoulders loosen.
you don’t notice riku sit up on the blanket, propping himself on his elbows. you don’t notice the way he studies you, eyes following the tilt of your head, the calmness that settles over your face when you’re caught up in the waves.
to him, you look untouchable, lit up by the horizon itself.
and he suddenly wants to hold onto it, the way you’re holding onto every frame of the sea.
the shutter sound makes you jump.
you whip around to find riku holding the camera, grin stretching across his face.
“riku!” your voice rises. “was that—”
“the last one,” he confirms cheerfully, still fiddling with the camera.
your stomach drops. “you didn’t. please tell me you didn’t just waste the last film.”
he winces, holding the developing sheet close to his chest. “depends on your definition of waste.”
“are you serious?” you march toward him, hands reaching for the camera. “we spent all day trying to get a good shot, and you... ugh! you don’t even let me take it and then just—”
“wait,” he says quickly, stepping back.
“no! riku, that was literally the last one!” your frustration bubbles over, more than you mean it. “i wanted one decent picture of you, not another dumb joke.”
he goes quiet. the only sound is the faint hum of the waves behind you, the gulls overhead. he stares at the photo in his hands, the image slowly surfacing.
you cross your arms, glaring. “if this is you making another silly face, i swear—”
“it’s not,” he interrupts softly.
the photo clears. he holds it tighter for a moment, lips pressed together, before finally extending it toward you.
hesitant, you take it.
the breath catches in your throat.
it’s you. standing at the water’s edge, head tilted slightly, hair ruffled by the breeze. your gaze is on the horizon, light falling golden across your face. behind you, the ocean stretches wide, endless, shimmering. it’s the kind of shot you’d been chasing all day, except it’s you instead of him.
your irritation falters, confusion slipping in. “this… is this me?”
riku nods, his grin returning but softer now. “yeah. you looked… i don’t know. perfect. i had to.”
you want to stay mad. you want to scold him again for using the last film, for hijacking the camera when you weren’t paying attention.
but the photo is beautiful.
and the way he’s looking at you, proud, almost shy, makes it impossible to hold onto the frustration.
“you’re still impossible,” you mutter, shoving the photo gently against his chest.
he smirks. “impossibly talented?”
“impossibly annoying.”
before you can walk away, he lunges forward. you let out a startled yelp as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you down with him, both of you toppling onto the blanket in a tangle. sand kicks up around you as you laugh despite yourself, squirming under his weight.
“riku!” you shove at his shoulder, but he only buries his face against your neck, laughing too hard to respond.
“say it,” he mumbles.
“say what?” you demand, breathless.
“that my photo’s better than yours.”
you groan, but the sound turns into another laugh as he squeezes you tighter. “you’re joking.”
“say it,” he repeats, voice muffled against your shirt.
you tip your head back, staring at the endless sky above, waves crashing faintly in the distance. his warmth seeps into you, steady and grounding, even as he tries to wrestle a confession out of you.
“fine,” you relent finally, exhaling. “yours is better.”
he pulls back enough to beam at you, triumphant.
“but you’re still buying me more film,” you add quickly, poking his side.
“deal,” he says without hesitation, eyes sparkling. “as long as i get to take the next one too.”
you roll your eyes, but when he leans down to press a quick kiss against your cheek, you don’t push him away.
the photo rests between you on the blanket. you glance at it once more, the version of yourself you hadn’t been able to capture, the one he saw so easily.
maybe the best pictures are the ones you don’t plan for.
i was rereading all i want and wondering where is pt2 😔🙏🏻
ouu idk if that will ever release tbh… AUGGGHH i know i said it might come out but sometimes oneshots are just like better as oneshots imo. i also don’t have a plan for a second part soooo yeah.
omgg we do have some similar biases!! and tbh some of ur biases are like my bias wreckers lolll if u dont mind me asking, since when have u been a kpop stan? and yess tyvm i shall be studying!!
AHH AYLIN HII sorry for such the late response :<< i love that we share biases / wreckers. hmm i knew abt kpop in like 2017 but i was never really a fan until 2019 with the feels by twice (i was a twice ult at one point). was a txt stan during the temptation era and then boynextdoor was announced and i was a predebut onedoor (i miss when we were called neighbors). whats ur kpop history?
kai is resurfacing after like a whole month of inactivitiy… (sorry abt that) anyways i wanted to make the call to discontinue “stream starting… soon..?” the taesan smau as well as a ni-ki request because i lost sm motivation to work on it :< (AHH im soso sorry to the person that requested).
on the plus side, a riku fic is on it’s way and my req list is empty. i can’t guarantee i’ll do your requests but i will take them into consideration ! :>
hi kai!! im good, trying to find some time to write amidst summer classes 😭 oh nooo sending you lots of inspiration to combat #writersblock the struggle is real but you got this 😔😔 and omg im a bit of a multistan so um. let me just list them loll
bnd - riwoo + taesan (ults!)
tws - jihoon
txt - taehyun
enhypen - ni-ki + sunoo
ateez - yunho + hongjoong
zb1 - matthew + yujin
le sserafim - eunchae
p1h - theo...? still trying to figure out who's my bias here lolll
svt - the8
skz - han
(sorry this list turned out to be colossal 💀💀💀)
wbu??
WOAH that definitely is a big list (and im noticing some similar biases between us hehe). hope ur summer classes are fun and don’t forget to study hard !! will try to push thru the writer’s block :> here’s my list !!
ults / main stans :
bnd - woonhak
nct wish - riku
enha - jake
stans / other groups :
txt - soobin + beomgyu
nct dream - jisung
tws - shinyu + kyungmin (this one changes a lot)
zb1 - yujin
illit - yunah
there are more as well but this is probably my main stanlist.
how are you ! i’m in such a #writersblock but we r pushing thru to get the smau out there. kind of random question but who do u stan and what are ur biases ?
: ̗̀➛ synopsis : your vod gets taken down for using chill background music. whatever, no big deal. until you realize the guy who struck it is weirdly passive aggressive on twitter. now your fans are shipping it, his fans are analyzing your every move, and the line between real and streamer things is getting a little blurry.
you grip your controller that's connected to your pc so hard your fingers cramp. frustration and concentration, two things that don't go well together, fill your mind.
“chop the onions,” you snap, voice sharp through your mic.
“i’m plating,” taesan replies, flat and unbothered, like he didn’t just walk past the vegetables for the third time. “if you want it faster, do it yourself.”
“i’m literally carrying this kitchen.”
“no, you’re carrying an ego, not a team.”
you move left. he moves right. neither of you says anything. a plate slides between you. clean handoff, and even cleaner tosses, no fumble.
somewhere in the chaos, the kitchen bursts into flames. smoke. beeping. fire. you know what happened.
“taesan.”
“why is that my fault.”
“you were in charge of the burners!”
“i was in charge of saving our combo, which you just destroyed.”
“shut up and grab the extinguisher.”
but the orders keep coming and getting filled. you’re chopping like you’ve done it on stream consstantly and somehow, taesan’s got the plate ready without being asked. no strategy calls. no plans. just... flow.
you don’t like how well it’s working.
his voice crackles through, “nice toss.”
you blink.
“what?”
“the sushi. that was clean.”
“don’t compliment me mid-match. that’s weird.”
“jesus. sorry, i guess"
you roll your eyes, but the round continues. you toss a sushi roll filled with salmon and avacados with the perfect angle, it lands right on his plate.
he doesn’t say anything this time.
the round ends. GAME COMPLETE flashes across the screen. the scoreboard blinks like a dare.
you tear one headphone off. “that was dumb.”
taesan’s voice is smug. “you’re welcome.”
“i literally carried.”
“i literally plated.”
“you literally threw three finished dishes into the abyss.”
“you literally screamed at me for ten minutes and we still won, so.”
the round ends, numbers flash in neon. the combo score, time bonus, and ranking.
you don’t react. you don’t breathe. the victory screen lingers. it hums at you. you’re too dazed for relief.
you pluck the vod off the stream, but you can’t watch, just send it to sungho for editing. your ears still ring from the alert tone, from the buzz of success you didn’t earn. well, didn’t entirely earn.
your stream dashboard updates with a donation ping. a thousand-dollar surge from someone who typed “we stan #LoFiRage ironically.” your follower count increased mid‑match.
you slowly minimize the game window. taesan’s cursor is still blinking over ‘ready.’ but you stop yourself. you don’t ready up again. you don’t want to test the waters between you two again, not tonight.
instead, you open twitter in a new tab.
you find the official leaderboard tweet. team 7 in first place, leaderboard table dominated. beside your name showcases stats higher than every other entry. #lofirage is more than a hashtag, it’s a scoreboard topper.
you feel the weight of it sinking in. not pride, not exactly, but disbelief. that you, in your petty rage, in your stubborn refusal to verbalize even a “good job,” still pulled this off.
you lean back from your monitor. your hand hovers over 'end stream'
your last message in chat: “i did not sign up for this.”
you close obs.
a/n : writer's block hitting REALLY HARD NOW guys... hoping to keep up the weekly schedule from now on but no promises.
: ̗̀➛ synopsis : your vod gets taken down for using chill background music. whatever, no big deal. until you realize the guy who struck it is weirdly passive aggressive on twitter. now your fans are shipping it, his fans are analyzing your every move, and the line between real and streamer things is getting a little blurry.
you grip your controller that's connected to your pc so hard your fingers cramp. frustration and concentration, two things that don't go well together, fill your mind.
“chop the onions,” you snap, voice sharp through your mic.
“i’m plating,” taesan replies, flat and unbothered, like he didn’t just walk past the vegetables for the third time. “if you want it faster, do it yourself.”
“i’m literally carrying this kitchen.”
“no, you’re carrying an ego, not a team.”
you move left. he moves right. neither of you says anything. a plate slides between you. clean handoff, and even cleaner tosses, no fumble.
somewhere in the chaos, the kitchen bursts into flames. smoke. beeping. fire. you know what happened.
“taesan.”
“why is that my fault.”
“you were in charge of the burners!”
“i was in charge of saving our combo, which you just destroyed.”
“shut up and grab the extinguisher.”
but the orders keep coming and getting filled. you’re chopping like you’ve done it on stream consstantly and somehow, taesan’s got the plate ready without being asked. no strategy calls. no plans. just... flow.
you don’t like how well it’s working.
his voice crackles through, “nice toss.”
you blink.
“what?”
“the sushi. that was clean.”
“don’t compliment me mid-match. that’s weird.”
“jesus. sorry, i guess"
you roll your eyes, but the round continues. you toss a sushi roll filled with salmon and avacados with the perfect angle, it lands right on his plate.
he doesn’t say anything this time.
the round ends. GAME COMPLETE flashes across the screen. the scoreboard blinks like a dare.
you tear one headphone off. “that was dumb.”
taesan’s voice is smug. “you’re welcome.”
“i literally carried.”
“i literally plated.”
“you literally threw three finished dishes into the abyss.”
“you literally screamed at me for ten minutes and we still won, so.”
the round ends, numbers flash in neon. the combo score, time bonus, and ranking.
you don’t react. you don’t breathe. the victory screen lingers. it hums at you. you’re too dazed for relief.
you pluck the vod off the stream, but you can’t watch, just send it to sungho for editing. your ears still ring from the alert tone, from the buzz of success you didn’t earn. well, didn’t entirely earn.
your stream dashboard updates with a donation ping. a thousand-dollar surge from someone who typed “we stan #LoFiRage ironically.” your follower count increased mid‑match.
you slowly minimize the game window. taesan’s cursor is still blinking over ‘ready.’ but you stop yourself. you don’t ready up again. you don’t want to test the waters between you two again, not tonight.
instead, you open twitter in a new tab.
you find the official leaderboard tweet. team 7 in first place, leaderboard table dominated. beside your name showcases stats higher than every other entry. #lofirage is more than a hashtag, it’s a scoreboard topper.
you feel the weight of it sinking in. not pride, not exactly, but disbelief. that you, in your petty rage, in your stubborn refusal to verbalize even a “good job,” still pulled this off.
you lean back from your monitor. your hand hovers over 'end stream'
your last message in chat: “i did not sign up for this.”
you close obs.
a/n : writer's block hitting REALLY HARD NOW guys... hoping to keep up the weekly schedule from now on but no promises.