Rocky is supposed to be that one Toby Maguire meme btw
Again sorry for any (past/now) grammar errors. ALSO huge thanks for the people giving me ideas and correcting me!! I do truly love learning about biology facts so if you have any always fell free to share!!
Again huge thanks for the support and Ideas people are giving me!! I’m glad glad glad people enjoy this series!! Also I’m so sorry for the lack of interaction on my part I’m kinda new to tumblr!!
I headcanon that Eridians, tho fast sprinters, haven’t evolved to be long distance runners because of their cardiovascular system. So seeing a human run easily for more than a couple of minutes freaks them out.
Also Huge Thanks for all the love on my last post!! I’ll definitely be making this into a series!!
Why aren’t drivers messy/bitchy anymore? Alex Albon. Where can I find a driver who regularly jokes about his own dick and other drivers’ dicks? Alex Albon. Are there any drivers somewhat less beholden to toxic masculinity? Alex Albon. Do any drivers seem to treat their girlfriends well and not like objects? Alex Albon. Where can I find someone with a story that makes you want to root for them in a sport where it’s hard to find that? Alex Albon. Why don’t drivers stoke the rpf flames as a bit? Alex Albon. Who is someone fun to watch drive because of ups and downs and ballsy overtakes and contact without bad faith? Alex Albon. Is there anyone who isn’t scared of a teammate battle and gives teammates advice over the radio? Alex Albon. Does anyone even do good gifts on secret Santa anymore? Alex Albon. Which drivers give deeply entertaining radios? Alex Albon. Does anyone even care about the nutritional benefits of breastmilk and repeatedly talk about it? Alex Albon
ghost — han jisung. strangers to lovers to exes. angsty. inspired by multo (coj) and a line from twenty five twenty one (0.9k words)
I.
“Last month, I met with (Name).”
The words fall lightly on Chan’s mouth—like they don’t mean anything. Like they don’t bear weight, simply tossed between sips of coffee and passed around in conversation.
But for Han Jisung, it’s like the world stops turning, solar system collapsing in consequence.
His smile flickers from a story he doesn’t remember anymore.
Chan doesn’t notice. He keeps talking—line after another of insignificant things. They all fall short to your name.
Jisung’s body language twists. Eyes lowered, coffee untouched. Quiet.
It’s as if the mention of a name, your name, ripped open something he thought he had sewn shut. Something he’d never really forgotten, but buried with the busyness that comes with growing up.
He supposes the older boy’s indifference is because he talks of closure like it’s conversation. Something that can be scheduled. But grief doesn’t respect calendars, not even when it’s been 4 years.
Perhaps Chan just doesn’t know what it’s like to carry someone around like a bruise you keep pressing on just to make sure it still hurts. Like the evocation of pain is the only proof that it was real. That you really happened.
He just doesn’t know the grieving over someone that’s living.
II.
You met early spring.
You had black stains on your fingers and the ghost of a melody on your lips, humming to a song whose lyrics you didn’t even know.
Jisung sees you outside the library, crouched over spilled notes. It’s instinct the way he helps, and it’s genuine the way you smile in return.
That’s all it took.
Love didn’t come loud. It didn’t crash through his chest or scream upon its arrival like he thought it would. It was quieter than that. Softer—shared earbuds, long bus rides and falling asleep on his shoulder, instant noodles on the floor of your dorm room, four steps instead of two on late night walks so he wouldn’t feel alone.
It was love before he even knew it was.
It was love as he scribbles your name in the margins of lyrics he’s working on.
It was always love.
“Is this about me?” You’d asked with wide eyes and the kind of softness he’d seen when he first met you. And his throat dries at the act of being caught, doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to breathe.
In and out and in and out, and you don’t say anything, and the world closes in on him in dull grays and he can’t breathe in and out and in and out, and then you smile.
You smile, and love bursts around his black-and-white world.
III.
You get the news of your making it to graduation on a Thursday night.
Jisung remembers because it was raining, and he almost canceled your plans to meet. But you’d ran to him, soaked to the bone, papers half-ruined by the storm, and launched yourself into his arms outside his department. He nearly dropped his umbrella.
“I did it!” You’d cried, clinging to him. “I actually did it.”
That day, you smelled like wet fabric and victory. And your cheeks were red from the cold and the rush. And in that moment, he was sure.
It had to be you.
Han Jisung had always been the type to wish for time to freeze, all the time—hanging out with friends, a birthday party, his favorite concert. But in this moment, with you like this in his arms, he’d decided he’d undo the moments he’d wished upon just to hold you like this for the rest of his life.
His wish, as he would know in less than a year, wouldn’t come true.
Time moved, even when he begged it not to.
IV.
You ended without ceremony. Just drifted, slowly.
Life got in the way. Love got quiet.
There wasn’t a fight. No screaming. Just silence when there shouldn’t have been.
“I think we’re not the same anymore,” You say, and he doesn’t argue.
A decision that haunts him for the rest of his life. He’d simply nodded, even though every part of him told him to do something. Still, instead of following his heart, he’d let you go.
He thought it was the right thing.
For you.
He couldn’t have been any more wrong. Something he keeps having to relearn until present day, despite the pain.
V.
Now, years later, Chan’s words still echo: Last month, I met with (Name).
The apartment is dim as he arrives home, golden light spilling from the corners of his room like memories refusing to fade.
The sun was coming down.
He walks past his guitar. Past the empty mug on the counter. Into the bedroom.
And there, on the desk by the window, is a handwritten letter.
Unsent.
The paper’s edges are a little worn from being folded and unfolded too many times. The ink slightly smudged where his hand had trembled.
He picks it up.
Reads it again like it’s new.
And I know it’s a little late,
but congratulations on your wedding.
His hands tremble.
Not from anger or sadness, but from the weight of dreaming about someone every night and waking up to loneliness. Of feeling the shadow of a hand grazing upon his when he sees things that remind him of you.
Of watching your life continue from outside a window he can’t knock on.
Had you ever thought about him too? Did you have dreams where things worked out like him? Where you still hum songs without lyrics and he still writes your name into melodies? Where you run to him in the rain?
He places the letter back on the table.
Doesn’t send it.
It will sit there for several more weeks, and he will keep dreaming of you every night without his consent. And he will convince himself he’s moved on, but in the place between sleep and waking, your name will echo again—and he will still answer.
soonyoung stumbles into the apartment, calling out something you don't quite understand between drunken giggles. jihoon is with him, soonyoung's arm slung around his shoulders as he (a little clearer now that he's not fumbling with his shoes and angling his face away from you) proudly boasts about how much jihoon looooooves him. jihoon's red-faced when he looks at you, mouthing an apology (sorry, he drank a little too much) as though he needs to. he doesn't, really: tonight was soonyoung's birthday dinner with jihoon and seungcheol (the others he has other plans with, scattered about the week), and you've been enjoying a book in his absence, knowing that either you'd see a drunk soonyoung come home or hear from one of his friends if he crashed at their place. as long as he's safe in the end, you're happy to know he'll find his way back to you, always well-fed and so, so loved by his friends.
soonyoung pulls away from jihoon, making his way over to you to steal a quick kiss. "and you loooooove me, too," he giggles, nose scrunching as he plants another kiss onto the top of your head. usually, it's a question, but not tonight. he kisses your cheek before he pulls away, mumbling about how warm his face is as he makes his way into the kitchen.
jihoon's just standing there, watching as his friend loudly goes through every single item in your freezer. "he really loves you, you know."
you do. "he loves you, too, silly." you smile up at jihoon. "you can go. i've got the birthday boy now."
he doesn't leave without a quick side-hug from you and a thanks for looking after him, something he'll pass along to seungcheol as well upon your request since you know jihoon always drops him off second since seungcheol lives closer to his place. you just make your way into the kitchen where soonyoung has gone quiet, just standing with the freezer open in front of him, eyes shut as he just basks in the cold air.
"hi, tiger." your hand finds his all too easily, and he opens his eyes to look at you, already beaming. "let's get you some water and go to bed, hm?"
he doesn't budge right away, brows furrowing together. "is it late?"
"it's a little late, but that's okay." you lean in to peck his lips. "did you enjoy your birthday dinner?"
he nods, and reaches up to pinch your cheeks. "seungcheol says hi." his eyes are gleaming when he giggles at you again. "and he missed arguing over the check with you."
you did, too, to be honest. "next time, then."
he's beaming at that. he sways into you, arms wrapping around you as he embraces you tightly before parroting your words back at you, "next time."
May I ask for some skz fake texts where their partner 'steals' their clothes and the boys kinda just go crazy (in a 'omg I can't believe they're mine'), maybe the reader sent them an outfit of the day pic and they see that most of the clothes are theirs, if that makes sense? (Hope this makes sense ^^")
Bf!skz go insane over you in their clothes
Contains: ot8 x gn!reader
Genre: fluff
Warnings: the boys are massive simps
A/n: thank you so much for the request! I got so happy when I read it, this is my first request outside of the Hyunjin wrong number texts aha, I really hope I did your idea justice! Don't hesitate to throw something my way and I'll happily see what I can do with it (especially cause I'm almost out of ideas:/)
A/n: my posts are gonna be fairly irregular for a while, stuff is going on:/ anyways, I def took inspiration but I don't remember who did this, if anyone knows please tell me so I can tag the OG creator!
A/n: I'm deciding now that the next post is gonna be the last wrong number I'm missing, but with what is going on in life rn that might take a few days, but it's coming!