hazelira

luvilists.tumblr.com -> hazelira's writing team + updates

notmeinmirror.tumblr.com -> for 3am thoughts

FULL ENHYPEN LIBRARY | ENHA DAD M.LIST

🐹 heeseung m.list (36)

🐈‍⬛ jay m.list (33)

🐶 jake m.list (24)

🐧 sunghoon m.list (20)

🦊 sunoo m.list (18) + (7) = (25)

🐈 jungwon m.list (25)

🐯 ni-ki m.list (34)

🐹🐈‍⬛🐶🐧🦊🐈🐯 OT7 m.list (7)

If you liked my stories, reblogging, liking and adding comments are greatly appreciated! thank u! All work is written by me, do not copy or repost or translate.

for Sunoo month

The rain had started sometime during practice.

Not the dramatic kind that arrived with thunder and wind, but the soft, stubborn drizzle that painted the world in shades of silver. Tiny droplets tapped against the gym windows, turning the outside into a watercolour blur.

When the coach finally clapped his hands and announced that practice would end early because of the weather, everyone cheered.

Everyone except you.

You stared through the window at the rain-slick streets and sighed.

"What's with that face?" Sunoo appeared beside you almost instantly, already shrugging into his hoodie. "Practice got cancelled early. This is basically a gift."

"I have to walk home."

"So?"

You pointed at the rain.

Sunoo followed your finger dramatically.

Then he gasped.

"Oh no."

His eyes widened.

"Water."

You laughed despite yourself.

"You're impossible."

"And you're overthinking." He grabbed his umbrella from the corner of the room and spun it once. "Come on. I'll walk you home."

"You don't have to."

"I know."

The smile he gave you was warm enough to make your chest ache.

"I want to."

The umbrella wasn't nearly big enough for two people.

Not when Sunoo insisted on holding it directly over your head.

Not when he kept drifting closer every time the rain picked up.

Not when he refused to let even a drop touch you.

"Sunoo."

"Hm?"

"Your shoulder is getting soaked."

He glanced down.

The sleeve of his hoodie was practically dripping.

"Oh."

"Move over."

"No."

"Sunoo."

"I'm fine."

Another gust of rain swept sideways.

His entire arm got drenched.

You stared.

He stared back.

Then the two of you burst into laughter.

"You look ridiculous."

"You look dry."

"That's because you're sacrificing yourself."

"A noble cause."

You rolled your eyes.

Sunoo beamed.

The streets were quiet except for the gentle patter of rain against pavement.

A few cars passed.

A dog barked somewhere in the distance.

Everything else felt muted, softened by the weather.

The kind of afternoon that made the world seem smaller.

Safer.

Sunoo nudged your shoulder.

"You're cold."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm really not."

He narrowed his eyes.

"You did that thing."

"What thing?"

"The thing where you tuck your hands into your sleeves."

"That's not a thing."

"It is."

Before you could protest, he reached over and gently wrapped one hand around your wrist.

His palm was warm.

Embarrassingly warm.

You nearly forgot how to speak.

"See?" he said triumphantly.

"Your hands are freezing."

"They're normal."

"They're little ice cubes."

"They are not."

He laughed again.

The sound blended with the rain.

For some reason, it made everything feel lighter.

When you finally reached your house, neither of you seemed particularly eager to say goodbye.

The rain had only gotten heavier.

Sunoo glanced toward the dark clouds.

Then toward you.

Then toward the clouds again.

"You know..."

You already knew where this was going.

"You should come inside."

"I mean, if you're offering."

"You'll catch a cold."

"I knew you cared."

"Sunoo."

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

Twenty minutes later, the two of you were standing in your kitchen.

Or rather,

You were standing.

Sunoo was reading the instructions on a packet of ramyeon as if it contained state secrets.

"Boil water."

He nodded solemnly.

"Okay."

A pause.

"How much?"

You blinked.

"Sunoo."

"What?"

"It's ramyeon."

"Exactly."

Another pause.

"What if I mess it up?"

"You won't."

"I could."

"You absolutely won't."

He looked unconvinced.

Still, somehow, the two of you managed.

The noodles are cooked.

The kitchen was filled with warmth.

Rain tapped softly against the windows.

And before long, you were both sitting on the floor with steaming bowls balanced in your laps.

The table was only a few feet away.

Neither of you used it.

The kitchen floor felt cozier.

Somehow.

Sunoo slurped a noodle.

Then smiled immediately.

"Okay."

"What?"

"I have important news."

You already knew he was about to say something ridiculous.

"Today, I saw the tiniest dog."

You blinked.

"...That's your important news?"

"It was really tiny."

"How tiny?"

He held his fingers a few inches apart.

"Like this."

"That's not a measurement."

"It had little boots."

You laughed.

Sunoo pointed his chopsticks at you.

"See? That's exactly why it's important."

"What?"

"You smiled."

His voice softened.

The warmth in your chest returned.

Stronger this time.

He continued talking.

About the tiny dog.

About a funny sign he'd passed on the way to practice.

About a cloud that looked like a dumpling.

About finding an extra snack in his bag when he thought he'd already eaten it.

None of it was important.

And somehow, every bit of it was.

You listened while rain drummed softly outside.

Listened while steam curled from your bowls.

Listened while Sunoo's eyes lit up over the smallest details.

The world felt wonderfully far away.

Just for a little while.

Just long enough.

Halfway through his story about a squirrel he'd seen stealing bread, Sunoo stopped abruptly.

"Are you warm enough?"

You looked up.

"What?"

"Are you warm?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Really."

He seemed satisfied.

For about thirty seconds.

Then,

"Your socks look thin."

"Sunoo."

"I'm just saying."

"I'm warm."

"You'd tell me if you weren't?"

"Yes."

He nodded.

Another minute passed.

Then he quietly nudged his hoodie toward you.

"Just in case."

You stared.

"You're wearing that."

"I know."

"Then why are you offering it?"

"Because you're important."

The answer came so naturally.

So simple.

As if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your throat tightened unexpectedly.

Outside, rain continued to fall.

Inside, the kitchen glowed softly beneath warm lights.

Sunoo sat beside you with damp sleeves, messy hair, and a smile that never seemed to run out.

He was still talking about tiny things.

Still finding joy in ordinary moments.

Still checking every few minutes to make sure you were comfortable.

And for the first time all day, you realized something.

The weather wasn't what had made the afternoon feel cozy.

It wasn't the umbrella.

Or the ramyeon.

Or the rain.

It was him.

Sunoo glanced over.

"What?"

You hadn't realized you were staring.

You smiled.

"Nothing."

He smiled back immediately.

The kind of smile that felt like coming home.

And for the rest of the rainy afternoon, neither of you rushed the silence when it came. The rain kept falling. The noodles slowly disappeared. Sunoo's shoulder rested lightly against yours.

Warm.

Steady.

Safe.

Exactly where you wanted him to be.

Copyright 2026 - present © hazelira all rights reserved. All writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

AAWW THANK YOU, that’s so sweet 😭💗 I’ve been into SEVENTEEN since their pre-debut/project days, so I’ve been with them for a long time lol. I’ve been into kpop since around 2010 too, so I guess I’m a bit of a veteran 😭

And don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere, I’ll definitely keep posting!

happy birthday maria!!

Ni-ki didn’t remember walking off stage.

He remembered the lights, the sound of his name. The weight of the award in his hands felt like it didn’t quite belong to him yet.

He remembered bowing so many times his body stopped feeling like his own.

And then, nothing clear after that. Just motion. Just hands on his shoulders, guiding him through a hallway too bright to feel real.

Backstage smelled like sweat, perfume, and celebration, trying to disguise exhaustion.

Someone said congratulations for what felt like the hundredth time. Someone else laughed too loudly. A camera flashed somewhere it wasn’t supposed to.

Ni-ki stood still in the middle of it all, as if he moved too much, the moment would collapse.

His manager approached slowly.

She didn’t smile.

That was the first thing that made something in his chest tighten.

“I… found something,” she said carefully, like she was choosing each word so it wouldn’t cut him.

She held out an envelope.

Plain. Slightly worn at the edges. Folded too many times and then kept carefully anyway.

Ni-ki stared at it.

No name was written on the front. It didn’t need one.

His fingers moved before his thoughts caught up.

And when he touched it, it felt like time folded in on itself.

Y/N.

He didn’t say it out loud.

He didn’t have to.

His throat closed as he took it from her.

“She had it with her things,” his manager added softly. “We think she meant to send it. Or… keep it. I don’t know. But it’s for you.”

Ni-ki nodded once, though he didn’t feel like he was agreeing with anything in particular.

His hands were shaking now.

Not badly.

Just enough that he noticed.

He stepped away from the noise, from the congratulations, from the world that suddenly felt too loud for something so small.

There was a narrow hallway just behind the stage, half-lit, half-forgotten. He leaned against the wall there, as his body had finally decided it couldn’t stand on its own anymore.

And only then did he open it.

The paper inside was folded neatly.

Carefully.

Like she had expected it to survive a long time.

Like she had expected him to survive long enough to read it.

His breath caught when he saw the handwriting.

Even after years, even after distance, even after silence that had stretched into something heavier than absence, he recognized her instantly.

Y/N always wrote as if she were trying to outrun her own thoughts, slightly slanted letters, uneven spacing, like she was always halfway between one moment and the next.

Ni-ki swallowed hard.

Then he read.

the speech she wrote for him

If you’re reading this, then I was right.

Don’t look so annoyed already, I can literally feel your expression through the paper. You always think I’m being dramatic when I say things like that, but I’ve always been right about you.

So. Congratulations, Ni-ki. You did it.

Say it properly in your head. Don’t rush past it like you always do when you don’t know how to sit with good things. I said it slowly for a reason.

Congratulations.

You are standing somewhere you used to only look at from far away. I know because I remember you telling me about it like it was a dream you weren’t allowed to touch yet.

And now it’s real. I’m proud of you.

I know you don’t like that word either. You always get quiet when people say it like you’re waiting for a condition to be attached to it. But there isn’t one here.

Just pride. Just you.

I can see it already. You're on that stage. The way your hands will tighten around the award before you even realize you’re holding it too hard. The way you’ll bow like you’re trying to give the moment back because it feels too big to keep.

Don’t give it back. It’s yours.

And I know what you’re going to do first. You’re going to thank everyone else before you even think of yourself. You always do that. Like you’re trying to distribute your success so it doesn't weigh as much on you.

But listen to me carefully, Ni-ki. This one is yours first.

Before the company. Before the team. Before the fans. Before anyone who helped shape you.

You.

I wish I could be there to say it out loud. I wish I could be standing somewhere in the crowd pretending I’m not crying while you pretend you’re not overwhelmed. But I can’t.

So I’ll say it the only way I still can. I told you I would be at every major milestone in your life. Do you remember that?

You laughed when I said it. You told me I was making promises I couldn’t keep. You said life doesn’t work like that.

You were right. It doesn’t. So I changed what “being there” means.

I knew this moment would come. I always knew. Not because I’m special. Because I paid attention to you more than you ever paid attention to yourself.

I saw where you were going before you did.

I saw what you would become when you were still convinced you were not enough.

So I started writing this years ago. On days you were tired and didn’t tell me. On days you thought you were failing but still showed up anyway. On days you smiled like it didn’t hurt. I wrote this speech for the day you would win something so big you wouldn’t know where to put your feelings.

And I was right. So if you’re reading this now, then you made it. You actually made it. And I did, too. Because I got you here.

Even if I’m not there standing next to you, I’m the reason this happened. I’m in every moment you kept going when you didn’t want to. I’m in every decision you made when quitting would’ve been easier.

I’m not gone from your milestones, Ni-ki. I just stopped standing where you expected me to be. So don’t look for me in the crowd. I won’t be there.

And I was hoping you would not turn. I would be grateful if you would do nothing that hurts you more than it should.

This isn’t abandonment. It’s a continuation.

You don’t get to erase me from this story just because I’m not visible in the frame anymore.

Look at me differently. Look at me in the way you almost didn’t give up. Look at me in the way you didn’t. That’s where I am. And I will be there for everything after this, too. Every stage. Every award. Every moment you think you’re alone. You won’t be. Not ever. So congratulations again, Ni-ki. You did exactly what I always said you would do. And if you’re crying right now, wipe your face before you go back out there. You hate it when I’m right about that, too.

—Y/N

The paper trembled in his hands.

Once.

Then again.

Ni-ki pressed it closer to his chest, as if that could anchor him.

But it didn’t.

Because the strangest part wasn’t that she wasn’t there.

It was how much she still was.

He exhaled shakily, dragging a hand over his face, but it didn’t stop anything. Not the pressure behind his eyes. Not the tightness in his throat. Not the way his mind kept replaying her voice in sentences he couldn’t unhear.

From down the hallway, someone called his name.

They were waiting for him to come back out.

To smile again.

To celebrate again.

To be the version of himself that fits neatly into applause.

Ni-ki looked down at the letter one more time.

Then folded it carefully.

Like she had.

Like it mattered.

When he finally moved, it was slower than before.

But it was still forward.

Because somehow, even now,

That was what she had taught him to do.

Copyright 2026 - present © hazelira all rights reserved. All writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

happy birthday @shxhdsstuff!!

The last thing Ni-ki saw of you was a single gray checkmark that never turned blue again.

And then, your name disappeared.

Blocked.

It wasn’t dramatic. No final paragraph. No warning that the end had already been decided somewhere between exhaustion and pride.

Just a quiet severing, like cutting a thread that had been fraying for too long to hold anything together anyway.

He stared at the screen long after it stopped mattering.

Then he laughed once, short and disbelieving, as if you’d just stepped out of the room and forgotten to come back.

“You’re serious,” he said to no one.

But you were.

The fight wasn’t supposed to be the last thing.

They never are.

It started small, something stupid, something that could’ve been softened with sleep and distance. Words got sharp. So did you. So did he.

Then came the silence that felt louder than everything else.

And finally,

blocked.

Ni-ki told himself you’d unblock him in an hour. Maybe two. You always came back when the anger cooled into something softer, something survivable.

But hours became a day.

Then days became something heavier.

Something he stopped naming out loud.

The accident happened on a night that didn’t feel different enough to matter.

That was the cruel part.

No warning in the sky. No sense that the world was about to shift its weight permanently.

Just a phone that didn’t get unblocked.

Just a message that was never delivered.

And somewhere in that gap,

You were gone.

Ni-ki didn’t believe it at first.

People said things like car crash, instant, and no suffering as if language could make any of it easier to hold.

He nodded when they spoke.

He even said the right things.

But inside, everything stayed unchanged.

Because people don’t disappear after arguments.

They come back.

Even if it takes time.

Even if it takes pride-breaking first.

That’s what he told himself every night when he opened your chat, hoping the block would have lifted like it was never real.

It never did.

It was weeks later when your things were returned.

A box at his door.

Neat. Careful. Too careful.

As if whoever packed it knew that anything careless would break something already shattered.

He didn’t open it immediately.

He sat on the floor beside it for a long time, as it might speak first.

When he finally did, everything inside felt too normal for something so final.

Clothes folded. A notebook. A charger.

And your laptop.

Still charged.

Still waiting.

He shouldn’t have opened it.

He did anyway.

The files were already there.

Dozens of them.

Named.

Voice_01

Voice_02

Voice_03

His breath caught before he even pressed play, like his body understood before his mind agreed.

The first recording crackled softly, as if it had been waiting too long to be heard.

Then your voice filled the room.

“I know you’re still angry, but… I don’t really know how to start this without sounding like I’m trying to fix everything at once.”

A pause.

A shaky inhale.

“So I guess I’ll just start with sorry.”

Silence followed, thick enough to sit in.

Then,

“I’m sorry for the way I talk when I’m scared you’re going to leave. I make it sound like I don’t care, but I care too much, and it comes out wrong every time.”

He swallowed hard.

Clicked the next file.

“I know you’re still angry, but… You left your hoodie again. It still smells like you. I’m pretending I’m annoyed about it, but I’m not returning it anytime soon.”

A small laugh broke through, then faded quickly.

“I don’t know why I keep little things like that. Like I’m collecting proof you were here.”

The third.

“I know you’re still angry, but… I keep replaying our fight in my head and trying to find the exact moment where I should’ve just hugged you instead of arguing.”

A pause that stretched too long.

“I think I lost you somewhere between wanting to be right and wanting you to stay.”

Ni-ki stopped breathing properly after that one.

But he didn’t stop listening.

The recordings blurred after a while.

Not because they were unclear.

Because he couldn’t keep track of how many times he heard your voice say his name in different shapes of regret.

Some files were jokes.

“I know you’re still angry, but if you don’t come back, I’m eating all your snacks. Consider this emotional damage compensation.”

Some were confessions you would’ve never said aloud while alive.

“I think I built my entire day around waiting for your messages more than I ever admitted.”

Some were quiet breakdowns pretending to be calm.

“I know you’re still angry, but I don’t know how to fix something I keep making worse.”

And always,

Always,

I know you’re still angry, but…

Like you had been speaking to a door you refused to stop knocking on.

Night came without him noticing.

The room turned blue-black.

The laptop screen was the only light left, painting him in a cold, unreal light.

Then he found the last file.

He hesitated longer than he had for any of the others.

When he pressed play, there was no opening rustle this time.

Just you.

Closer. Quieter.

“I know you’re still angry, but… I think this is the last one I’m going to record.”

A breath.

Not steady.

Never steady.

“I kept thinking I’d find the right moment to send these. After the fight. After things cooled down. After I wasn’t so scared of you not answering.”

A pause.

Long enough that he thought it had ended.

Then,

“But I guess I ran out of afters.”

His grip tightened on the edge of the laptop.

Your voice continued.

“I hope you’re okay.”

A softer exhale.

“I hope you don’t hate me for how I handled things. I tried to be better in my head more than I actually was in real life.”

Silence again.

Then, quieter than anything before it:

“If you’re listening to this… I probably got the courage to send it.”

A small laugh.

Almost unrecognizable.

“But I didn’t.”

The recording ended.

And for a moment, nothing in the room existed except the absence of your voice.

Ni-ki stayed there until the laptop dimmed.

Until the silence stopped feeling like a pause and became a permanence.

Because now he understood something unbearable.

You had never stopped talking to him.

He had just never been there to hear it.

And the last thing you ever tried to do,

I came back.

Just not in time for him to let you.

Copyright 2026 - present © hazelira all rights reserved. All writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.