#cyjnet

Mark: Didn’t speak for the first 3 months of school and after christmas break he screams every time he comes into class about how his life is so hard

Jaebum: got into a fight with the entire class about how cats are the future and humans are scum

Jackson: was trying to move in between chairs to get a paper from the teacher but was taking too long and screamed “i’m sorry my ass is too big i’m not as skinny as Chloe”

Jinyoung: a girl ripped out his headphones to tell him something and he later cut a inch of hair her off because of of that

Youngjae: Shared his badly made acapella rendition of Beyoncé’s Halo 28 times to the class

BamBam: wore steve madden sneakers to school and someone acidentally got paint on his shoes and he started screaming about how his shoes cost more then their college tuition

The OT7 visuals 😍😍😍😍

bonus: (hyung-line trying not to laugh at Youngjae’s speech)

bonus-bonus: (bambam lookin smug is not healthy for my heart)

Fandom: GOT7 Pairing: Choi YoungjaexReader Rating/warnings: PG/none Genres: fluff/romance Word count: 665

Summary: This is how his life is supposed to be, and he wouldn't trade it - he wouldn't trade you - for the world.

A/N: I was trying to work on the 90s aesthetic HoseokxReader fic but real life feelings kept getting in the way so I needed to get them out somewhere...

The floorboards of the house creak under the weight of careful footsteps as Youngjae carries himself to bed. He knows you'd be fast asleep by now since you'd retreated to the bedroom hours ago, so he opens the door to your shared room carefully, flinching when the hinges squeaked. He anticipates you to stir immediately, knowing full well what you would say.

"I told you to go to bed ages ago, Jae. You can't keep spending all night in the studio practicing every day. You need to rest, too," he imagines you saying in your grumpy morning voice. But he breathes a sigh of relief when he hears your soft, steady breathing filling the otherwise quiet room.

Youngjae tiptoes softly to the other side of the room and strips down to his boxers, throwing his dirty clothes in the basket next to the armoire and pulling back the covers of your king size bed. He smiles down at you as you lay still in the middle of the bed, one arm resting carefully over your stomach while the other lies on the pillow just above your head. He slips into the warmth of the bed, lying on his side with his head propped up on his hand to observe you as you sleep.