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blog-name-idk · 23 days
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You can always tell which dead person a historian wants to fuck
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blog-name-idk · 27 days
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is 30s too late for a career change how to change careers how to become evil sorcerer evil sorcerer salaries evil sorceror indeed dot com
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blog-name-idk · 28 days
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My mom is waxing poetic about cheese tonight
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blog-name-idk · 1 month
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fiction and fantasy are so fun because it's like. if i met this man in real life i would drop kick him off a cliff within three seconds of him opening his mouth. luckily for him he doesn't exist so we can all happily ignore those red flags and pretend we could fix him
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blog-name-idk · 1 month
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WHERE is that poem about that person learning all about their partners hyperfixation before getting dumped the last line is like "love is a stack of books on my nightstand with a bookmark near the end" I need it to feel whole help me please
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blog-name-idk · 1 month
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Is there any NSYNC fanfiction on AO3? If there is, it’s probably Lance/Justin. Not to kink-shame anyone, but ew.
Lmfaooooooo. I read this in an airport lounge next to a lady eating carrots. On my laptop. And was trying not to giggle the whole time. While awkwardly angling my screen away.
This whole series is just so fun and ridiculous, I love it.
definitely today, satan | knj
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After having a strange dream about your hot neighbor, you realize it might be time to finally make your move. Dreams are a sign from the universe, right?
○ Pairing: DILF/Neighbor!Namjoon x f!Reader
○ Rating: Explicit/18+
○ Genre: Neighbors to lovers, smut, crack
○ 11 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Neighbor)
○ Word Count: 1,076
○ Warnings: It's corny and horribly written and I don't know what the fuck came over me when I wrote any of these fics, cunnilingus (Namjoon eating it from behind while MC wears a skirt, god bless), nipple play, vaginal fingering, I have a really bad sense humor, reference to NSYNC fanfic
○ Notes: This fic was written for @mapleleaf000 for my "part 2 when?" follower milestone game. It's actually part 3 of what has turned into a mini-series about the "Demon DMV" LOL. The links for the other parts are below. For those of you who haven't read "Not Today, Satan," you don't have to read parts 1 and 2 to understand this fic, but I highly recommend it, or else this won't be as funny. Also, yes, there is NSYNC fic on AO3. In case you were curious. 💀
○ Post Date: March 12, 2024
○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost
○ What was Jai listening to? Dangerous - TEN
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3
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Honestly, sometimes your ability to pull hot men shocks you. It doesn’t only happen at night when you’re weirdly dreaming about your hot, daddy-dom neighbor being Satan, tempting you with his sexy biceps and boobs. You’re actually here, in his apartment, sitting on said hot, daddy-dom neighbor’s thick thighs as he sucks on your throat and squeezes your tits. 
Namjoon is even hotter in real life than he was as Satan in your dreams, though you can’t help but think about your dream while he’s pulling off your shirt to trail kisses across your collarbones and reaching around you to unclasp your bra. 
“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” Namjoon moans against your chest as he drags his tongue across one of your nipples, flicking it repeatedly until it’s hard and soaked with his spit. His tongue isn’t pointy and forked like it had been in your dream, but that’s fine!
“Not as sexy as you,” you insist with your fingers threaded through his hair. 
Namjoon’s hair is short and bleached with highlights, and you think he’s probably the only person in the twenty-first century who can pull off bleached tips without looking like Lance from NSYNC. 
Is there any NSYNC fanfiction on AO3? If there is, it’s probably Lance/Justin. 
Not to kink-shame anyone, but ew. 
You’re pulled from your distracting thoughts by Namjoon grabbing your ass and helping you grind against the bulge in his pants. He’s still wearing his slacks, having just come home from work. You were supposed to go on a dinner date since his daughter is staying with her mother over the weekend. 
As a respectful father (hot), Namjoon has avoided mixing his dating life with his family life. It’s what’s best for now since the two of you are still getting to know each other. Only recently did your dreams of Purgatory and Hell push you to ask Namjoon out. It makes sense that he wants to take things slow with introducing you into his daughter’s life. 
You’re definitely not taking things slow in other areas of your dating life, though. 
“Is it weird if I say that I dreamt about this?” you ask when Namjoon hooks his arms around your thighs and carries you out of the living room. His strength is impressive, even if his bedroom isn’t far from where you’d been. 
“Not at all. I’ve dreamt about you, too.” 
Namjoon seems shy when he confesses, but you suppose it actually is kind of weird, and the two of you are probably just weird together. Which is nice. Sexy or not, you wouldn’t be able to vibe with Namjoon if he couldn’t keep up with your weirdness. 
“Oh, did you?” you purr as Namjoon reaches under your miniskirt to pull your thong down your legs. 
“Mhm,” he hums against your neck when he hovers over you, slotting himself between your legs so he can grind his thigh against your exposed pussy. 
One of the buttons on his white work shirt catches on your nipple. The rough drag makes your body shiver with goosebumps. When you try to unbutton his shirt, he grabs your hand and pins it to the bed above your head. 
“Keep it on,” Namjoon whispers in your ear. 
His breath is hot against your face, and his voice is deep and scratchy. If you close your eyes, you can almost imagine something darker in his tone, something demonic. It’s so hot you feel your pussy throb and slick up even more. When Namjoon pulls away, there’s a dark spot on his pants from how wet you are. 
“Can I eat you out?” Namjoon’s request is more like a plea, a hopeful lilt to his voice when he speaks. He runs his palms up your thighs to push your miniskirt further up your waist to expose more of your body.
“You don’t even have to ask a question like that.” 
“From behind?” 
“Fuck, yeah, oh my god.” You throw your head back with a dramatic groan before rolling onto your stomach and transitioning to resting on your forearms and knees. “Please, I didn’t even get to the fucking in my dream about you, so I need this.” 
Squeezing your asscheeks, Namjoon pulls you apart and uses his leg to push your knees apart more to open you. 
“I definitely got to the fucking part in mine,” Namjoon says with a chuckle as he runs his thumb over your pussy, first gathering your arousal from where it leaks at your entrance and gliding it up to wet your clit even more. 
“What,” you swallow the drool you’re afraid might come out of you when Namjoon picks up the pace, “What was your dream like?” 
“I don’t know if I should tell you. It was weird.” 
He circles your clit, occasionally thumbing at it with gentle flicks at the tip that makes your legs shake. When you start kicking your foot and moaning louder, he finally brings his mouth down to where you throb for him. 
“Oh fuck,” you moan against Namjoon’s bed sheets. 
You’ve got your face pressed into the bed because you can’t keep your head up as he fucks his tongue in you while he rubs your clit with his slick fingers. He moans against your pussy when he switches positions so he’s fingering you while he laps at your clit. His movements are languid, which drives you even crazier than if he’d been fingerfucking you hard enough to make your ass jiggle.
“Good?” he murmurs with his lips slick and his fingers still massaging your walls.
“So good, god, your lips are so perfect, fuck,” you moan and push back against his face. “Tell me your dream. Was it like this?”
Namjoon kisses your clit before bringing his other hand to rub it while he still fingers you. Leaning back on his knees, Namjoon increases the speed of his movements as he admits, “You were the Devil, and I fucked you so good that you kept me as a pet.” 
“I WHAT?” 
You turn around to stare at Namjoon with wide eyes and an inability to say anything more as your orgasm rips a whiny moan out of you, legs shaking and threatening to collapse. Namjoon wraps his arm around your waist and keeps rubbing your clit until you wiggle away from him when you grow too sensitive. 
Namjoon wipes his messy fingers on your thigh and shrugs. 
“I told you it was a weird dream.”
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Join the 100 Drabble Challenge taglist.
@jooniesxbby @seokteoksworld @taegeum @dprmoon @chimmisbae @yoonminkookk @joonsmagicshop @shameless-army
Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 
All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie).
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blog-name-idk · 1 month
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blog-name-idk · 1 month
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Are you going to write the plot twist part 5?
@eserethriddle and I are hoping to! Hopefully there is... no plot twist preventing it.
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blog-name-idk · 1 month
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ahhh u updated the plot twist im so happy !! i hope you’re doing well !! :”)
Thank you!! I am doing well, taking a step back from being online/social media etc has been good for my mental health, plus I've been doing a lot of traveling/visiting family. I hope you are doing well also!!
Pic of pretty plum blossoms outside my cousin's house for u ❤️
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blog-name-idk · 1 month
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Of course you don’t. Free college might hinder the school-to-prison pipeline your  prison owning donors depend on
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blog-name-idk · 2 months
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"nothing is real atoms never touch each other youve never touched anything in your life" ok. well when i pet my dog he is soft and when he licks my hand it is wet and that is far more real to me than whatevers going on at an atomic level
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blog-name-idk · 2 months
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The Plot Twist | 04
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Written by @blog-name-idk and @eserethriddle
Summary: Once upon a time you would have jumped at the chance to live the idol girlfriend life. The cameras, the action, the whirlwind romance. But what was once a dream has now become your worst nightmare, and you fully intend to fight the universe as it repeatedly conspires to set you up with your seven perfectly good soulmates from Bangtan Sonyeondan.
In which we punt Y/N into all the fanfiction tropes and you do your feral best to subvert the love story.
Because nani the fuck, you are The Plot Twist.
Pairing: OT7 X Fem!Reader
Genre: Soulmate!AU, crack, humor, idol!AU, light angst, slow burn, romantic comedy, just a fun silly old time
Rating: 18+
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Chapter 4: "You like Pac-man, right?"
"How dare you!"
You’ve just finished entering the final character to G0d$l@yeR_69 when you look up from the post-game leaderboard screen.
"Pardon?" you ask in confusion, slightly alarmed by the speed in which a masked man is walking towards you and the Pac-man machine. Even with the mask, the exaggerated furrow marring the man’s forehead is more than enough for you to discern that he is less than pleased. You square your shoulders, in case you need to defend the precious apparatus. Well, that and protect Lee-ssi, but mostly the Pac-man game.
"You're G0d$l@yeR_69?" the man squawks, voice irate. He gives you a once over and bristles further. You can almost imagine his fluffy hair rising like the feathers of an offended bird, and he… kind of sounds like one, too. You struggle to stifle your snicker when he gestures broadly to your grown stature, incredulous even as he finally discerns to himself, “You’re not some pint-sized punk!”
“And yet here you are, humbled all the same.” you respond haughtily, dusting off the imaginary lint off your burgundy dress. “Based on your reaction, I take it you’re ‘Jin the PacMan God’?”
You pause.
Wait.
Jin?
In fact, this offended cockatoo of a man actually looks… familiar. Broad shoulders, nice eyebrows, and –
Your blood pressure skyrockets as you realize exactly who is yelling at you. Unfortunately, your temper rises faster than your self-preservation.
"I'm sorry, BTS Jin is the same stupid kid who calls himself 'Jin the PacMan God?'" you blurt before you can stop yourself. "What self-respecting adult wastes so much time on an arcade game?"
He raises an eyebrow at you with a pointed stare, and you shrug. You don't fit into that category. You certainly don't respect yourself.
"A grown woman calls herself G0d$l@yeR_69?" Kim Seokjin jabs in return, crossing his arms, now looking more sulky than angry.
"Well, it's accurate to lore," you retort with an uncaring flip of your hair, doing your best to look bored rather than reflect the panic beginning to clog your throat. His genuinely offended gasp would have made you laugh if you weren't currently running through the possible exit routes in your head.
And then Jin says, "Well, you must be cheating!"
The egregious accusation dispels all thoughts of escape from your head. Your pride and integrity as a gamer have been insulted, and you narrow your eyes at the self-proclaimed pro-gamer before you.
You’re fully prepared to defend your honor.
It's on.
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Jimin doesn't get it.
How could he be unlucky enough to get sidelined a second time in a row? He wasn't even late this time! But because there had been more men than women (a bit heteronormative for his tastes, but that's the current state of most official speed-dating events), he and a few others had to wait aside for a rotation. And then somehow, everyone had already decided to pair up before he even got to meet anyone!
Perhaps it's karma and he's being punished for telling his Jin-hyung that he sort of kind of definitely looked like a certain pink Moluccan bird species when he was all riled up and red-eared.
With a sigh, he leaves the building, shoulders slumped. He can't quite bring himself to call Jin yet, and so he decides to walk aimlessly for a while. Perhaps some fresh air will cheer him up.
It's a bustling street, and he nervously brings his mask up higher on his face lest he be recognized. No one seems to be paying attention however, and the people going about their daily lives remind him that despite his woes, life goes on.
An arcade catches his eye, and he shrugs to himself. A few rounds of killing zombies or racing fake cars will take his mind off things. It's a school day, so it's unlikely the place will be packed.
When he walks in, he hears a familiar screech, accompanied by the sound of a boot stomping on the ground.
"Yahhh! How did you do that?! That's not fair!"
What is Jin-hyung doing here? And what is he yelling about?
Curious, he follows the voice past the shopkeeper who looks torn between concern and amusement, to where Jin is ranting at someone obscured by his frame.
A p(r)etty sigh.
"I'm sorry this is so difficult for you to get through that coconut haircut of yours, but has it occurred to you that I'm just better?"
Huh, that voice is also familiar.
"That’s just prepos–"
"...Hyung?"
The voices cease as the two arguers turn to look at Jimin, and he feels his breath catch in his throat.
You look particularly lovely today, with a form-fitting burgundy dress that shows off much more soft-looking skin than the business or lounge attire you wear on the rare occasion he actually sees you.
And his Jin-hyung, next to you, all rose-colored cockatoo.
It's more than enough to set Jimin off-balance.
"Oh! Hi, LN-ssi!" he hurriedly squeaks, cursing his voice for cracking. What are all his voice lessons even for?
At least you can't tell his palms are suddenly sweating. Your eyebrows rise and Jimin realizes you never did tell him your name, that he just saw it on your mailbox and it stuck in his brain. Oh no, do you think he's a stalker now?
"You know this phony?" Jin cries, oblivious to the internal crisis his dongsaeng is currently experiencing.
Jimin's brows crinkle. Phony?
Your head whips to his hyung at his words, your eyes narrowing.
"I believe you saw proof with your own two eyes," you say icily, though your gaze has a fire that makes Jimin gulp. "Maybe you should get them checked? Sometimes they can fail with old age."
Jin's jaw drops, and as a constipated sound of outrage leaves him, you take the opportunity to brush past and march to the exit. Jimin, still confused, steps aside automatically to let you pass and you give him a reluctant nod.
"Jimin-ssi."
As you leave, Jin turns to Jimin to demand answers, but he barely hears it over the fluttering in his tummy.
It's the first time you've ever addressed him by name.
"You like Pac-man, right?" he asks, smiling brighter than the sun.
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The twelve-year-old boy opens his hand, revealing hard candy wrapped in shiny, yellow paper.
You accept his offering, sure your own face is radiant enough to power all of Gwangju. You can't say you have strong feelings for the buttery treat, but you do for the little boy who fills your days with laughter and sweet memories. You could spend forever playing with him at the park by your houses…
Except your parents get the brilliant idea of starting their own restaurant in Seoul. You are heartbroken when the decision to move is made, but you do your best to support their dreams, even if it comes at the expense of your only friend.
Out of sentimentality and denial, you save the shiny candy wrapper, holding it when you're sad, as if it's a talisman that can ward off the lonely ache in your chest. It's hard being the new kid in a big-city school, and though you present your mother's strong facade when your new classmates tease you about your satoori, it hurts. You have to be strong.
After one particularly bad day, you decide to drop into the local arcade, because all it will take is one smile from your appa to disintegrate your cracking veneer. You're a big girl, basically an adult at a whopping eleven years old! You're not a baby anymore, you just need some extra time to set yourself right.
You weave through the attractions, passing racing games and claw machines when something catches your eye. A familiar yellow character smiles at you from a game cabinet, and for a moment you feel like he is still there with you.
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You walk up to the Pac-man arcade machine with newfound resolve and a sunny smile to match.
“Sometimes I wanna drop by Gwangju,” Jung Hoseok begins, taking his seat at the dining table next to Taehyung, “But then I remember they already demolished the playplace from my childhood and think, huh, maybe not. Thing is, they sold really good tteok there.”
“Pan-fried tteok?” Taehyung leans back, remembering the taste of his own favorite rice cake flavors from Daegu. “My hometown had that, too.”
“Sometimes the cart owner-ahjussi would give us candy with our orders. I miss it a lot.”
Hobi's eyes take on a wistful look, and Taehyung pats his shoulder.
It must have been some really good candy.
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"Honey! I'm home!" you call, setting your briefcase on the floor as your husband rushes up to you wearing a cute apron that has nothing on his sweet face and sweeter smile.
"I just finished dinner," he says, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek that makes your chest fill with the glow of a million fireflies.
"What, mudcakes again?" you ask fondly. You thread your fingers with his, uncaring of the dirt on his palms, giggling at the pout on his face.
"You said they're your favorite!" he complains petulantly, though he doesn't pull away.
"They are," you agree, squeezing his hand in yours reassuringly. You beam at him, and his cheeks turn pink. "If it's something you made, it's my favorite."
You're suddenly tugged towards him and you squeak in surprise as wiry arms crush the air out of your lungs.
It's great to be back in Gwangju, away from all the insanity happening in Seoul. You can finally relax and live life rather than constantly look over your shoulder in the fear of running into another member of BTS.
"You're my favorite," he mumbles into your hair, and it's the happiest you've felt in your entire nine years of existence.
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Fuck you, fate! You're taking a break.
You knock on the old, familiar door, and it opens to reveal a kind, lightly lined face that breaks into a huge smile at the sight of you.
"Halmeoni!" you announce happily, stepping into your grandmother's arms and hugging her fiercely. She hugs you back just as hard, squeezing you with her deceptively spindly limbs as you melt into a hold that feels like childhood.
"We've been waiting!" she replies cheerfully before ushering you to the living room and calling your grandpa to come greet you. The house is the same as you remember, a comforting echo of days past.
"Oh! We ran into that boy you used to play with at the store earlier!" your grandma says just as you pick up your cup of tea. "The one you used to play house with!"
You laugh, thinking fondly of your childhood friend. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad if he had been your soulmate, rather than a group of the seven biggest idols in Korea. Or perhaps not – the things that are so simple to children don't always translate to adulthood, and those memories hold an untainted innocence that you wouldn't trade for the world.
You bring the cup of homebrewed tea to your lips, only to choke at your grandmother's next words.
"I invited him over for dinner!"
You stare at the twinkle in your suddenly menacing grandmother's eyes. In just one simple sentence, she has transformed from the kindly, loving fixture of your youth to yet another cruel, scheming matchmaker. Truly your mother’s maker. Leaving Seoul might have saved you from idol-related phenomena, but clearly not from your family's attempts at grand (and great-grand) children.
Instinct drives you to your feet and you grab your purse, tripping over the rug as you rush to the door.
"I have to go," you call over your shoulder, uncaring of the baffled expression on your grandma's face.
"But you just got here?" she says in distressed confusion, and your stomach fills with guilt at the sadness in her voice. "We haven't seen you in so long, dear."
You still, hand on the doorknob and so, so close to freedom and safety. Eventually, you sigh, shoulders slumping as the resolve trickles out of your body.
"Never mind, I'm going to take my stuff upstairs," you say in resignation, grabbing the carry-on still by the door and carting it to the guest room. The wallet feels extra heavy in your purse, and when you're safely within the confines of your room you sit on the bed and pull it out.
You reach behind the ID card in the plastic slot of your wallet and feel the soft, crinkly edges of a fond childhood memory.
You like Pac-man, right?
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Hoseok still remembers the smile on your face whenever he gave you the extra candy he would get with his tteok in the park. As well as the thinly hidden devastation on your face the last time he saw you, and you told him your family was leaving for Seoul.
Despite him being older, he had always admired your courage and tenacity, the way you would charge head-first at the things you wanted. Your unwavering support whenever he was feeling down or uncertain. During hard times as a trainee, he would sometimes picture your determined expression and feel an extra spark of energy.
He really isn't sure what to expect, or even if he's in his right mind, coming to dinner to see his long lost… friend? Play-spouse?
Would you even remember him?
The door opens, and Hoseok's heart jumps at the sight of you. The tentative smile on your face fades into an expression of utter shock, and he belatedly remembers exactly who he is.
"Wh–what the–I–" you stammer, looking just as mortified as Hoseok feels. In his ruminations of childhood, he had completely forgotten his present state of being and how it might impact new encounters. "Can I help you?"
"Y-Y/N?" he asks tentatively. To his bafflement, you flinch as if he had screamed at you.
"How do you know my name?" you ask, stepping back with your hand on the door. You look five seconds away from slamming it in his face, and despite his misgivings, Hoseok's heart sinks. For some reason this cold reception feels worse than if you were a saesang.
"I'm… I'm here for dinner?" he says tentatively, proffering the seonmul he brought. The expression on your face is so reluctant that for a moment he takes a whiff of the bag in case the pastries from the most expensive bakery in the area have somehow gone bad.
With a spark of panic, Hoseok wonders if he accidentally went to the wrong address. The house is familiar, and you look similar to the little girl he remembers, but perhaps he's just let his hopes affect his memories. Why else would you look so shaken, other than a strange man showing up out of nowhere?
"But you're… you're not–"
"Y/N, what's taking so long?"
Relief fills him momentarily as your grandmother comes behind you, though it's tempered by the way you haven't relaxed.
"But this is… this isn't…" you stammer, face pale as you look between Hoseok and your grandmother. It hits him that you probably don't remember his real name, as you had been too young to pronounce it correctly when you had first met.
"You used to call me Hoba," he says with a smile, realizing that this is why you must be so confused – you've recognized him as Jung Hoseok of BTS, and thus not your playmate from so many years ago. "It's nice to see you again."
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This cannot be happening.
Not only is the smiling boy from your fondest memories Jung Hoseok of BTS, but he just somehow had a break in his schedule the same weekend you're in Gwangju, and he ran into your grandmother at the supermarket? You left Seoul to get a break from these ridiculous situations and not to end up having dinner with one of your soulmates!
What kind of contrived, unimaginative bullshit is this?
"These are for you," Hoseok tells your grandmother with a formal bow, offering the pretty, pastel pastry box you had refused to accept earlier. She beams approvingly while you pinch yourself. Hard.
Through the pain in your arm, Jung Hoseok is still standing in your entryway, a sunny nightmare you can't wake up from. The old wrapper, once a magical talisman to ward off gloom, is lead weight in your pocket.
"Um," he begins awkwardly, looking bashful. It is not cute. He is not cute. "And this is for you."
He holds out a fuzzy yellow ball you immediately recognize, and you stare at it in shock. Your chest is doing something very funny, like tachycardic arrythmia. Yes. Hilarious.
Hoseok evidently takes your silence as disapproval, and wilts like a flower deprived of light. "Uh, sorry, you probably don't like Pacman anymore…"
"I do," you reply faintly, reaching forward to take his gift. Only to be polite. That's it. Certainly not because his dejection makes your insides roil with guilt. "Thank you."
"Of course," he replies, looking only marginally relieved by your lukewarm response. "Oh! You dropped something."
He dips low to grab something, and to your horror, your wallet is open –
"Wait, is this–"
"I JUST LIKE THE CANDY!" you blurt in a near scream, feeling your entire body light on fire. This would be humiliating in the best of situations, and Jung Hoseok discovering you kept the wrapper from an old candy he had given you, like a sentimental loser, is decidedly NOT the best of situations.
His resulting smile almost blasts you off your feet, and you wonder if overexposure to sunlight can lead to cardiac arrest.
“Y/N-ah,” Jung Hoseok says, tentatively, but with soft affection. It is more devastating than you could have ever imagined. “I missed you too. Have you been well?”
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Masterlist | Next
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blog-name-idk · 2 months
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The Plot Twist | 04
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Written by @blog-name-idk and @eserethriddle
Summary: Once upon a time you would have jumped at the chance to live the idol girlfriend life. The cameras, the action, the whirlwind romance. But what was once a dream has now become your worst nightmare, and you fully intend to fight the universe as it repeatedly conspires to set you up with your seven perfectly good soulmates from Bangtan Sonyeondan.
In which we punt Y/N into all the fanfiction tropes and you do your feral best to subvert the love story.
Because nani the fuck, you are The Plot Twist.
Pairing: OT7 X Fem!Reader
Genre: Soulmate!AU, crack, humor, idol!AU, light angst, slow burn, romantic comedy, just a fun silly old time
Rating: 18+
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Chapter 4: "You like Pac-man, right?"
"How dare you!"
You’ve just finished entering the final character to G0d$l@yeR_69 when you look up from the post-game leaderboard screen.
"Pardon?" you ask in confusion, slightly alarmed by the speed in which a masked man is walking towards you and the Pac-man machine. Even with the mask, the exaggerated furrow marring the man’s forehead is more than enough for you to discern that he is less than pleased. You square your shoulders, in case you need to defend the precious apparatus. Well, that and protect Lee-ssi, but mostly the Pac-man game.
"You're G0d$l@yeR_69?" the man squawks, voice irate. He gives you a once over and bristles further. You can almost imagine his fluffy hair rising like the feathers of an offended bird, and he… kind of sounds like one, too. You struggle to stifle your snicker when he gestures broadly to your grown stature, incredulous even as he finally discerns to himself, “You’re not some pint-sized punk!”
“And yet here you are, humbled all the same.” you respond haughtily, dusting off the imaginary lint off your burgundy dress. “Based on your reaction, I take it you’re ‘Jin the PacMan God’?”
You pause.
Wait.
Jin?
In fact, this offended cockatoo of a man actually looks… familiar. Broad shoulders, nice eyebrows, and –
Your blood pressure skyrockets as you realize exactly who is yelling at you. Unfortunately, your temper rises faster than your self-preservation.
"I'm sorry, BTS Jin is the same stupid kid who calls himself 'Jin the PacMan God?'" you blurt before you can stop yourself. "What self-respecting adult wastes so much time on an arcade game?"
He raises an eyebrow at you with a pointed stare, and you shrug. You don't fit into that category. You certainly don't respect yourself.
"A grown woman calls herself G0d$l@yeR_69?" Kim Seokjin jabs in return, crossing his arms, now looking more sulky than angry.
"Well, it's accurate to lore," you retort with an uncaring flip of your hair, doing your best to look bored rather than reflect the panic beginning to clog your throat. His genuinely offended gasp would have made you laugh if you weren't currently running through the possible exit routes in your head.
And then Jin says, "Well, you must be cheating!"
The egregious accusation dispels all thoughts of escape from your head. Your pride and integrity as a gamer have been insulted, and you narrow your eyes at the self-proclaimed pro-gamer before you.
You’re fully prepared to defend your honor.
It's on.
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Jimin doesn't get it.
How could he be unlucky enough to get sidelined a second time in a row? He wasn't even late this time! But because there had been more men than women (a bit heteronormative for his tastes, but that's the current state of most official speed-dating events), he and a few others had to wait aside for a rotation. And then somehow, everyone had already decided to pair up before he even got to meet anyone!
Perhaps it's karma and he's being punished for telling his Jin-hyung that he sort of kind of definitely looked like a certain pink Moluccan bird species when he was all riled up and red-eared.
With a sigh, he leaves the building, shoulders slumped. He can't quite bring himself to call Jin yet, and so he decides to walk aimlessly for a while. Perhaps some fresh air will cheer him up.
It's a bustling street, and he nervously brings his mask up higher on his face lest he be recognized. No one seems to be paying attention however, and the people going about their daily lives remind him that despite his woes, life goes on.
An arcade catches his eye, and he shrugs to himself. A few rounds of killing zombies or racing fake cars will take his mind off things. It's a school day, so it's unlikely the place will be packed.
When he walks in, he hears a familiar screech, accompanied by the sound of a boot stomping on the ground.
"Yahhh! How did you do that?! That's not fair!"
What is Jin-hyung doing here? And what is he yelling about?
Curious, he follows the voice past the shopkeeper who looks torn between concern and amusement, to where Jin is ranting at someone obscured by his frame.
A p(r)etty sigh.
"I'm sorry this is so difficult for you to get through that coconut haircut of yours, but has it occurred to you that I'm just better?"
Huh, that voice is also familiar.
"That’s just prepos–"
"...Hyung?"
The voices cease as the two arguers turn to look at Jimin, and he feels his breath catch in his throat.
You look particularly lovely today, with a form-fitting burgundy dress that shows off much more soft-looking skin than the business or lounge attire you wear on the rare occasion he actually sees you.
And his Jin-hyung, next to you, all rose-colored cockatoo.
It's more than enough to set Jimin off-balance.
"Oh! Hi, LN-ssi!" he hurriedly squeaks, cursing his voice for cracking. What are all his voice lessons even for?
At least you can't tell his palms are suddenly sweating. Your eyebrows rise and Jimin realizes you never did tell him your name, that he just saw it on your mailbox and it stuck in his brain. Oh no, do you think he's a stalker now?
"You know this phony?" Jin cries, oblivious to the internal crisis his dongsaeng is currently experiencing.
Jimin's brows crinkle. Phony?
Your head whips to his hyung at his words, your eyes narrowing.
"I believe you saw proof with your own two eyes," you say icily, though your gaze has a fire that makes Jimin gulp. "Maybe you should get them checked? Sometimes they can fail with old age."
Jin's jaw drops, and as a constipated sound of outrage leaves him, you take the opportunity to brush past and march to the exit. Jimin, still confused, steps aside automatically to let you pass and you give him a reluctant nod.
"Jimin-ssi."
As you leave, Jin turns to Jimin to demand answers, but he barely hears it over the fluttering in his tummy.
It's the first time you've ever addressed him by name.
"You like Pac-man, right?" he asks, smiling brighter than the sun.
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The twelve-year-old boy opens his hand, revealing hard candy wrapped in shiny, yellow paper.
You accept his offering, sure your own face is radiant enough to power all of Gwangju. You can't say you have strong feelings for the buttery treat, but you do for the little boy who fills your days with laughter and sweet memories. You could spend forever playing with him at the park by your houses…
Except your parents get the brilliant idea of starting their own restaurant in Seoul. You are heartbroken when the decision to move is made, but you do your best to support their dreams, even if it comes at the expense of your only friend.
Out of sentimentality and denial, you save the shiny candy wrapper, holding it when you're sad, as if it's a talisman that can ward off the lonely ache in your chest. It's hard being the new kid in a big-city school, and though you present your mother's strong facade when your new classmates tease you about your satoori, it hurts. You have to be strong.
After one particularly bad day, you decide to drop into the local arcade, because all it will take is one smile from your appa to disintegrate your cracking veneer. You're a big girl, basically an adult at a whopping eleven years old! You're not a baby anymore, you just need some extra time to set yourself right.
You weave through the attractions, passing racing games and claw machines when something catches your eye. A familiar yellow character smiles at you from a game cabinet, and for a moment you feel like he is still there with you.
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You walk up to the Pac-man arcade machine with newfound resolve and a sunny smile to match.
“Sometimes I wanna drop by Gwangju,” Jung Hoseok begins, taking his seat at the dining table next to Taehyung, “But then I remember they already demolished the playplace from my childhood and think, huh, maybe not. Thing is, they sold really good tteok there.”
“Pan-fried tteok?” Taehyung leans back, remembering the taste of his own favorite rice cake flavors from Daegu. “My hometown had that, too.”
“Sometimes the cart owner-ahjussi would give us candy with our orders. I miss it a lot.”
Hobi's eyes take on a wistful look, and Taehyung pats his shoulder.
It must have been some really good candy.
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"Honey! I'm home!" you call, setting your briefcase on the floor as your husband rushes up to you wearing a cute apron that has nothing on his sweet face and sweeter smile.
"I just finished dinner," he says, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek that makes your chest fill with the glow of a million fireflies.
"What, mudcakes again?" you ask fondly. You thread your fingers with his, uncaring of the dirt on his palms, giggling at the pout on his face.
"You said they're your favorite!" he complains petulantly, though he doesn't pull away.
"They are," you agree, squeezing his hand in yours reassuringly. You beam at him, and his cheeks turn pink. "If it's something you made, it's my favorite."
You're suddenly tugged towards him and you squeak in surprise as wiry arms crush the air out of your lungs.
It's great to be back in Gwangju, away from all the insanity happening in Seoul. You can finally relax and live life rather than constantly look over your shoulder in the fear of running into another member of BTS.
"You're my favorite," he mumbles into your hair, and it's the happiest you've felt in your entire nine years of existence.
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Fuck you, fate! You're taking a break.
You knock on the old, familiar door, and it opens to reveal a kind, lightly lined face that breaks into a huge smile at the sight of you.
"Halmeoni!" you announce happily, stepping into your grandmother's arms and hugging her fiercely. She hugs you back just as hard, squeezing you with her deceptively spindly limbs as you melt into a hold that feels like childhood.
"We've been waiting!" she replies cheerfully before ushering you to the living room and calling your grandpa to come greet you. The house is the same as you remember, a comforting echo of days past.
"Oh! We ran into that boy you used to play with at the store earlier!" your grandma says just as you pick up your cup of tea. "The one you used to play house with!"
You laugh, thinking fondly of your childhood friend. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad if he had been your soulmate, rather than a group of the seven biggest idols in Korea. Or perhaps not – the things that are so simple to children don't always translate to adulthood, and those memories hold an untainted innocence that you wouldn't trade for the world.
You bring the cup of homebrewed tea to your lips, only to choke at your grandmother's next words.
"I invited him over for dinner!"
You stare at the twinkle in your suddenly menacing grandmother's eyes. In just one simple sentence, she has transformed from the kindly, loving fixture of your youth to yet another cruel, scheming matchmaker. Truly your mother’s maker. Leaving Seoul might have saved you from idol-related phenomena, but clearly not from your family's attempts at grand (and great-grand) children.
Instinct drives you to your feet and you grab your purse, tripping over the rug as you rush to the door.
"I have to go," you call over your shoulder, uncaring of the baffled expression on your grandma's face.
"But you just got here?" she says in distressed confusion, and your stomach fills with guilt at the sadness in her voice. "We haven't seen you in so long, dear."
You still, hand on the doorknob and so, so close to freedom and safety. Eventually, you sigh, shoulders slumping as the resolve trickles out of your body.
"Never mind, I'm going to take my stuff upstairs," you say in resignation, grabbing the carry-on still by the door and carting it to the guest room. The wallet feels extra heavy in your purse, and when you're safely within the confines of your room you sit on the bed and pull it out.
You reach behind the ID card in the plastic slot of your wallet and feel the soft, crinkly edges of a fond childhood memory.
You like Pac-man, right?
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Hoseok still remembers the smile on your face whenever he gave you the extra candy he would get with his tteok in the park. As well as the thinly hidden devastation on your face the last time he saw you, and you told him your family was leaving for Seoul.
Despite him being older, he had always admired your courage and tenacity, the way you would charge head-first at the things you wanted. Your unwavering support whenever he was feeling down or uncertain. During hard times as a trainee, he would sometimes picture your determined expression and feel an extra spark of energy.
He really isn't sure what to expect, or even if he's in his right mind, coming to dinner to see his long lost… friend? Play-spouse?
Would you even remember him?
The door opens, and Hoseok's heart jumps at the sight of you. The tentative smile on your face fades into an expression of utter shock, and he belatedly remembers exactly who he is.
"Wh–what the–I–" you stammer, looking just as mortified as Hoseok feels. In his ruminations of childhood, he had completely forgotten his present state of being and how it might impact new encounters. "Can I help you?"
"Y-Y/N?" he asks tentatively. To his bafflement, you flinch as if he had screamed at you.
"How do you know my name?" you ask, stepping back with your hand on the door. You look five seconds away from slamming it in his face, and despite his misgivings, Hoseok's heart sinks. For some reason this cold reception feels worse than if you were a saesang.
"I'm… I'm here for dinner?" he says tentatively, proffering the seonmul he brought. The expression on your face is so reluctant that for a moment he takes a whiff of the bag in case the pastries from the most expensive bakery in the area have somehow gone bad.
With a spark of panic, Hoseok wonders if he accidentally went to the wrong address. The house is familiar, and you look similar to the little girl he remembers, but perhaps he's just let his hopes affect his memories. Why else would you look so shaken, other than a strange man showing up out of nowhere?
"But you're… you're not–"
"Y/N, what's taking so long?"
Relief fills him momentarily as your grandmother comes behind you, though it's tempered by the way you haven't relaxed.
"But this is… this isn't…" you stammer, face pale as you look between Hoseok and your grandmother. It hits him that you probably don't remember his real name, as you had been too young to pronounce it correctly when you had first met.
"You used to call me Hoba," he says with a smile, realizing that this is why you must be so confused – you've recognized him as Jung Hoseok of BTS, and thus not your playmate from so many years ago. "It's nice to see you again."
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
This cannot be happening.
Not only is the smiling boy from your fondest memories Jung Hoseok of BTS, but he just somehow had a break in his schedule the same weekend you're in Gwangju, and he ran into your grandmother at the supermarket? You left Seoul to get a break from these ridiculous situations and not to end up having dinner with one of your soulmates!
What kind of contrived, unimaginative bullshit is this?
"These are for you," Hoseok tells your grandmother with a formal bow, offering the pretty, pastel pastry box you had refused to accept earlier. She beams approvingly while you pinch yourself. Hard.
Through the pain in your arm, Jung Hoseok is still standing in your entryway, a sunny nightmare you can't wake up from. The old wrapper, once a magical talisman to ward off gloom, is lead weight in your pocket.
"Um," he begins awkwardly, looking bashful. It is not cute. He is not cute. "And this is for you."
He holds out a fuzzy yellow ball you immediately recognize, and you stare at it in shock. Your chest is doing something very funny, like tachycardic arrythmia. Yes. Hilarious.
Hoseok evidently takes your silence as disapproval, and wilts like a flower deprived of light. "Uh, sorry, you probably don't like Pacman anymore…"
"I do," you reply faintly, reaching forward to take his gift. Only to be polite. That's it. Certainly not because his dejection makes your insides roil with guilt. "Thank you."
"Of course," he replies, looking only marginally relieved by your lukewarm response. "Oh! You dropped something."
He dips low to grab something, and to your horror, your wallet is open –
"Wait, is this–"
"I JUST LIKE THE CANDY!" you blurt in a near scream, feeling your entire body light on fire. This would be humiliating in the best of situations, and Jung Hoseok discovering you kept the wrapper from an old candy he had given you, like a sentimental loser, is decidedly NOT the best of situations.
His resulting smile almost blasts you off your feet, and you wonder if overexposure to sunlight can lead to cardiac arrest.
“Y/N-ah,” Jung Hoseok says, tentatively, but with soft affection. It is more devastating than you could have ever imagined. “I missed you too. Have you been well?”
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Masterlist | Next
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blog-name-idk · 2 months
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i just wanna say @blog-name-idk and i are updating TPT soon yes sadlkfjdklfjslfkjsd CONSIDER THIS SHITPOST MEME YOUR WARNING
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blog-name-idk · 2 months
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I don’t even care who fucking wins the presidency this year look at this
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blog-name-idk · 2 months
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hobi's judging faces ♡ he's a whole mood (cr. heybaetae) HAPPY HOBI DAY ♡
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blog-name-idk · 2 months
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Been seeing a lot of stuff about boycotting HYBE recently and just wanted to bump the companies that are on the BDS targeted boycott list. I think it's great people care and are trying to do right, but just a reminder that these companies are actually profiting against everything going on and many of these (Puma, HP, Siemens, etc) are places people probably purchase/consume from much more consistently than HYBE merch.
Non-targeted boycotts, despite being well-intentioned, can actually be counterproductive because "awareness" can dilute/overshadow information on companies that are actually profiting/whose removal of support could make a substantial impact.
Again, I think it's great that people are trying to make a difference in the ways they can. And there are a lot of products/services that it is almost impossible to live without these days. I just think that with social media the way it is, diluting the information on what can make a substantial impact in terms of funding/support can become dangerous and counterproductive. There is literally no perfect company/product/ethical consumption, so it's a sad reality that we have to pick and choose what will make the most impact.
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