#↤ maybe that’s just to me. maybe i’m projecting. oh well.

[pinkmoontaco]

It all started with a song || Lee Jihoon

Pairing: Producer-Idol Jihoon x Producer-Solo Idol Reader

Genre: Fluff, Idol romance

Summary: Jihoon, the reserved genius of SEVENTEEN, unexpectedly finds himself drawn to Y/N, a rising junior idol from HYBE, after collaborating on a duet. What starts as a professional partnership blossom into a heartfelt romance, captured in their respective songs

Author's note: This is my first time writing a story, and I truly appreciate you giving it a chance. Please forgive me if there are any mistakes—I’m still learning and growing as a writer. Thank you so much for taking the time to read and support my work. It means the world to me, and I hope you enjoy the journey I’ve created.

Jihoon was preparing to release his solo album, which included a heartfelt duet about two lovers. After finishing his own parts, his next challenge was to find the perfect female lead for the song. With Bumzu’s help, he sifted through several demos of the female section.

After an exhaustive search, one demo finally stood out to him—it was exactly what he was looking for. When Bumzu visited him the next day, he asked, “Did any of the lyrics catch your attention?”

Jihoon nodded and showed him the demo.

“Oh, so you liked Y/N’s lyrics,” Bumzu said with a knowing smile. That’s when Jihoon learned that the lyrics had been written by Y/N, a junior solo idol from HYBE.

“You’ve never met her, have you?” Bumzu asked.

Jihoon shook his head. It was no surprise—everyone knew Jihoon wasn’t one to socialize much.

“I’ll bring her to the studio tomorrow,” Bumzu said confidently before heading out, leaving Jihoon to ponder the upcoming meeting.

The next day, Jihoon arrived at the studio earlier than usual, his mind a mix of anticipation and curiosity. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He knew Y/N by name, but meeting her in person would be different.

As he set up his equipment, the door swung open, and Bumzu walked in with a bright grin. Behind him was Y/N, her presence soft yet commanding. She wore a simple outfit, but her confidence and aura made it clear why she was a rising star.

“Jihoon, meet Y/N,” Bumzu introduced.

Jihoon stood, his usual calm demeanor masking his nerves. “Hi,” he greeted simply, bowing slightly.

“Hi! It’s so great to finally meet you Sunbae-nim" Y/N said with a warm smile. Her voice was light and melodic, just as he’d imagined. “I’ve heard so much about you and your music.”

“Likewise, but please don't call me sunbae-nim, you can call me by my name,” Jihoon replied, his words brief but sincere.

Bumzu clapped his hands together, breaking the silence. “Alright, let’s get to work! You two have a duet to perfect.”

Jihoon gestured toward the recording booth, silently inviting Y/N to take her place. As they started working through the song, Jihoon found himself impressed—not just by her vocal ability but by her understanding of the emotions behind the lyrics.

They went over the harmonies and phrasing, fine-tuning every detail. By the end of the session, Jihoon was pleasantly surprised at how smoothly everything had gone. Y/N wasn’t just talented; she was professional and insightful, bringing a depth to the song that exceeded his expectations.

“You’re really good,” Jihoon said as they wrapped up, his tone earnest.

Y/N beamed. “Thank you! Your composition is amazing—it makes it easy to connect with the song.”

For the first time in a while, Jihoon felt a genuine sense of excitement about the project. Maybe working with others wasn’t so bad after all.

After their first session, Jihoon couldn’t stop thinking about how seamlessly Y/N had brought the song to life. It was rare for him to feel this level of connection with another artist, especially so quickly.

The next day, Bumzu texted Jihoon. "How was it working with Y/N? She said she had a great time."

Jihoon hesitated for a moment before typing back. "She’s talented. The song’s coming together well."

Bumzu responded with a teasing emoji. "That’s high praise from you! Maybe you should tell her that in person."

Jihoon frowned slightly but didn’t reply. Compliments weren’t exactly his strong suit.

Their second studio session was scheduled later that week. Y/N arrived on time, as cheerful and prepared as before. Jihoon noticed how her energy seemed to brighten the room, even when she was just warming up.

“Good morning!” she greeted with a bright smile.

Jihoon nodded. “Morning. Ready to dive in?”

“Always,” she said confidently.

As they worked through the song again, Jihoon found himself more at ease. Y/N’s suggestions were thoughtful, and she wasn’t afraid to ask questions or offer input, which he appreciated. Somewhere in between harmonizing and tweaking lines, they started to find a rhythm—not just in the music, but in their conversations.

During a short break, Y/N leaned back in her chair. “You know, Jihoon, this is one of the most beautiful songs I’ve ever worked on. It feels so raw and real.”

Jihoon glanced at her, caught off guard by her sincerity. “Thanks. That means a lot,” he said quietly.

“Is it based on a personal experience?” she asked cautiously, as if afraid to overstep.

He hesitated for a moment before replying. “Kind of. It’s… inspired by the idea of love. Not necessarily mine, though.”

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. “I get it. Sometimes it’s easier to write about emotions from a distance.”

Jihoon nodded, appreciating her understanding. Their conversation drifted to other topics—music, inspirations, and even random stories about life as idols. For someone he’d only met recently, Y/N was surprisingly easy to talk to.

By the end of the session, the song was nearly complete. As they packed up, Y/N turned to Jihoon.

“I think this duet is going to be really special,” she said. “Thank you for letting me be part of it.”

Jihoon looked at her, feeling a rare warmth in her words. “You brought the song to life. I should be thanking you.”

Her eyes lit up at his unexpected praise. “Well, I guess we make a pretty good team,” she said with a grin.

Jihoon allowed himself a small smile. “Yeah, we do.”

As Y/N left the studio that day, Jihoon couldn’t help but think that meeting her had been one of the best things to happen during this project.

In the weeks that followed, Jihoon and Y/N spent more time together polishing their duet. Each session seemed to bring them closer, not just as collaborators but as individuals. Y/N’s infectious laughter and unfiltered enthusiasm often pulled Jihoon out of his shell, while Jihoon’s quiet determination and thoughtful approach inspired Y/N to push herself even further.

One day, as they wrapped up the final recording, Bumzu entered the studio with a wide grin. “So, how does it feel to be done?”

Y/N clapped her hands together excitedly. “It feels amazing! I can’t wait for people to hear it.”

Jihoon nodded in agreement, his usual stoicism giving way to a subtle but genuine smile. “It’s better than I imagined.”

Bumzu raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “Wow, Jihoon actually giving compliments? I need to write this down.”

Y/N laughed. “He’s not that bad. He’s just… selective with his words.”

Jihoon shot her a mock glare, but there was no malice behind it. Instead, he found himself smiling along with her—a rare occurrence that didn’t go unnoticed by Bumzu.

As they packed up, Bumzu pulled Jihoon aside. “You know, you’ve changed a bit since working with her,” he said casually.

Jihoon frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you seem… lighter. Happier, even,” Bumzu said with a knowing grin. “It’s a good look on you.”

Jihoon didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he glanced over at Y/N, who was chatting animatedly with a staff member. There was something about her—something that made him feel less burdened, more open to the world around him.

The song’s release day arrived, and the response was overwhelming. Fans praised the emotional depth of the duet, calling it one of Jihoon’s best works yet. Many were also captivated by the chemistry between Jihoon and Y/N, evident not just in their vocals but in the behind-the-scenes clips shared online.

As they stood backstage during a live performance, Y/N turned to Jihoon. “Are you nervous?” she asked, noticing his unusually quiet demeanor.

“A little,” he admitted. “Not about the song, though. I just hope people feel what we tried to convey.”

Y/N placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “They will. This song has so much heart in it. You’ve poured yourself into it, and I’ve never been prouder to be part of something.”

Her words struck a chord with Jihoon. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel alone in his creative journey. “Thank you,” he said softly.

When they stepped on stage and began to sing, Jihoon realized something unexpected. The song, which he’d once viewed as merely a project, had become something far more personal. And in that moment, as their voices blended and the audience’s applause filled the air, Jihoon understood just how much Y/N had changed his perspective—not just on music, but on life itself.

After the performance, Y/N grinned at him. “See? We nailed it.”

Jihoon met her gaze, his expression warm. “We really did.”

And as they walked off stage together, Jihoon couldn’t help but think that this was only the beginning of a story far greater than either of them had anticipated.

In the days following the song's release, the hype only grew. The other members of SEVENTEEN were quick to congratulate Jihoon. Mingyu, with his ever-present energy, was the first to bring it up during one of their group practice sessions.

“Hyung! That duet is insane! Everyone’s talking about you and Y/N,” Mingyu said, clapping him on the back.

Joshua added with a smile, “Yeah, the fans are loving the chemistry. You two sounded amazing together.”

Jihoon felt a rare flush of embarrassment rise to his cheeks. “Thanks, guys. It was a lot of work, but she made it easier.”

“Oh-ho!” Seungkwan chimed in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hyung admitting someone made his life easier? This must be a first!”

The room erupted into laughter. Even Jeonghan, who always had a teasing comment up his sleeve, smirked. “So when do we get to meet this famous Y/N?”

Before Jihoon could respond, the studio door creaked open and in walked Bumzu—with Y/N beside him. The sudden appearance of their guest caught everyone’s attention.

“Speak of the devil!” Vernon said, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N waved nervously, a bit overwhelmed by being surrounded by the full force of SEVENTEEN. “Hi, everyone. It’s nice to finally meet all of you.”

Dino bounded over with enthusiasm. “You’re the one with that amazing voice! Your part in the song gave me chills.”

“Thanks!” Y/N said, her smile growing as she relaxed.

Hoshi, never one to miss a moment, stepped forward and grinned. “Are you ready to dance with us too? Because in SEVENTEEN, we don’t just sing—we dance.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide a small smirk. “Don’t scare her off, Hoshi.”

Y/N laughed, feeling at ease now. “I’d love to try sometime, but I don’t think I could keep up with you guys. I’m more of a singer than a dancer.”

Jun nudged Jihoon playfully. “Looks like you’re not the only one who’s found a great collaborator.”

Over the next hour, SEVENTEEN welcomed Y/N into their world, joking and sharing stories. The room was filled with laughter, the group’s usual dynamic enriched by a new presence. Jihoon found himself observing the way Y/N blended in so effortlessly, as if she’d been part of their chaotic family all along.

As the evening went on, Minghao approached Jihoon with a knowing smile. “You look happy,” he said simply.

Jihoon glanced at Y/N, who was now in an animated conversation with DK and Woozi, sharing anecdotes about their vocal warm-ups. A small, content smile played on his lips. “I guess I am.”

A few weeks later, SEVENTEEN was preparing for a group livestream, and Y/N was invited to join as a surprise guest. Jihoon wasn’t thrilled about the idea at first—he preferred to keep things professional—but the rest of the members were insistent.

“Come on, Jihoon,” Seungkwan pleaded. “The fans already love you two together. This will be fun!”

“It’s a great way to promote the song even more,” Mingyu added. “Plus, we want to see how she handles being in one of our chaotic lives.”

Reluctantly, Jihoon agreed, and Y/N arrived at the dorm just as the livestream was about to begin.

“Is this what it’s like before you go live?” Y/N asked, watching the members scramble to adjust cameras, lights, and snacks.

“Always,” Jeonghan said with a smirk. “It’s controlled chaos.”

As the livestream began, fans flooded the chat with comments. The members introduced Y/N, and the reaction was overwhelmingly positive.

“Y/N’s here! OMG!”

“She and Jihoon look so good together!”

“The duet is my favorite song right now!”

Jihoon, who was reading the comments on his phone, shifted uncomfortably but managed a small smile. “The fans seem happy,” he said quietly to Y/N.

“They’re so sweet,” Y/N replied, her eyes scanning the messages.

The members took turns asking her questions, each one more playful than the last.

“Hoshi,” Y/N said, laughing, “why are you asking if I’d join the Performance Team? I just told you I’m not much of a dancer!”

“Because we can teach you,” Hoshi replied with a dramatic flourish.

DK chimed in, “Or you can join the Vocal Team! We need more people who can hit those high notes.”

“Don’t listen to them,” Minghao said. “You’re a solo artist. Stay in your lane before they rope you into our madness.”

The banter continued until Seungkwan leaned into the camera and asked the question everyone wanted to know.

“So, Y/N, how’s it working with Jihoon?”

The chat exploded with reactions.

Y/N glanced at Jihoon, who was clearly caught off guard but tried to mask it. She smiled. “Honestly? It’s been amazing. He’s a perfectionist, but in the best way. I’ve learned so much from him.”

Jihoon cleared his throat, his ears tinged pink. “She’s talented, so it wasn’t hard to work with her,” he said simply, earning exaggerated “oohs” from the members.

As the livestream continued, Y/N fit right in with SEVENTEEN’s dynamic, laughing and joking with them like she’d known them for years. Fans in the chat began calling her an “honorary 14th member,” a title that made her laugh but also secretly warmed Jihoon’s heart.

After the livestream ended, the members sprawled across the couch, tired but happy.

“You handled that like a pro,” Mingyu said, tossing a cushion at Y/N.

“Thanks,” Y/N replied, catching the cushion. “You guys are a lot of fun. I can see why your fans love you so much.”

As the group began to disperse, Jihoon found himself alone with Y/N for the first time that evening.

“You were great today,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

“Thanks. I was a little nervous, but you all made it easy,” Y/N said, leaning against the back of the couch. “Your members are like family, huh?”

Jihoon nodded. “They are. It’s chaotic, but it’s… home.”

Y/N smiled. “I can tell. You’re lucky to have that.”

There was a comfortable silence between them before Y/N added, “And thanks for letting me be part of all this. I didn’t expect to be welcomed so warmly.”

Jihoon met her gaze, his usual stoicism softening. “You’re part of it now. Whether you like it or not.”

Her laughter filled the room, light and genuine. “I think I like it.”

And for the first time in a long while, Jihoon felt like the walls he’d built around himself were no longer as important.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N continued to bond with SEVENTEEN. She found herself invited to more studio sessions, group meals, and even impromptu dance practices. Despite her initial hesitation about being in the spotlight alongside such a well-known group, their warmth made her feel at home.

Jihoon, on the other hand, started noticing the subtle ways Y/N was changing the dynamic around him. She wasn’t just a collaborator anymore; she was becoming a friend. Someone who could pull him out of his creative tunnel and remind him to enjoy the little moments.

One day, after a long recording session, the group decided to hang out at their dorm. Y/N hesitated when Seungkwan invited her along.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude,” she said.

“You? Intruding?” Seungkwan scoffed. “You’re practically one of us now. Come on!”

When they arrived at the dorm, chaos quickly ensued. Mingyu was in the kitchen, trying to cook something “special,” while Hoshi and Dino argued over which choreography to show Y/N.

Jihoon sat on the couch, quietly observing the scene. Y/N was laughing with Jeonghan, who was undoubtedly up to some mischief. He couldn’t help but smile to himself.

“You like her, don’t you?” Minghao’s voice pulled Jihoon from his thoughts.

Jihoon turned to him, his expression unreadable. “What are you talking about?”

Minghao smirked. “You’re not as subtle as you think. The way you look at her—it’s different.”

Jihoon sighed, leaning back against the couch. “She’s… easy to be around. That’s all.”

“Sure,” Minghao said, clearly unconvinced. “Just don’t wait too long to figure it out.”

Later that evening, as everyone settled in for a movie, Jihoon found himself sitting next to Y/N. The room was dimly lit, and the sound of laughter and popcorn crunching filled the air.

Y/N leaned closer to whisper, “Thanks for letting me hang out with you guys. I didn’t expect this when we started working on the song.”

Jihoon glanced at her, the soft glow of the TV reflecting in her eyes. “You’re not just here because of the song anymore. They like you. I… like having you around.”

Her eyes widened slightly at his admission, a soft smile forming on her lips. “I like being around you too, Jihoon.”

For a moment, the noise of the room faded, and it was just the two of them, sitting closer than either realized.

“Jihoon! Pass the popcorn!” DK’s voice broke the moment, and Jihoon blinked, quickly grabbing the bowl to hand over.

Y/N chuckled softly, leaning back into the couch. The warmth between them lingered, unspoken but undeniable.

As the weeks turned into months, their bond deepened. Whether it was through shared late-night studio sessions, casual dinners with the group, or quiet moments away from the chaos, Jihoon and Y/N found themselves drawn closer together.

And while neither of them said it out loud, they both knew that what had started as a simple duet had grown into something far more meaningful.

As time passed, Jihoon and Y/N’s bond became increasingly apparent to everyone around them. The other members of SEVENTEEN had a field day teasing Jihoon about it, though they were careful not to push him too far. Y/N, on the other hand, took it all in stride, her easygoing nature making her a natural fit within the group’s chaotic but loving dynamic.

One day, they found themselves in the studio late at night, working on a new song. The other members had already gone home, leaving just the two of them.

Y/N leaned over the desk, scrolling through the playlist Jihoon had prepared for inspiration. “This one’s good,” she said, pointing to a track.

Jihoon nodded, playing it without hesitation. The soft melody filled the room, and they both sat in comfortable silence, letting the music wash over them.

After a while, Y/N broke the quiet. “Do you ever think about what this all means? The music, the fans, everything we do?”

Jihoon looked at her, surprised by the sudden introspection. “All the time,” he admitted. “It’s why I work so hard. I want it to mean something—to leave something behind that matters.”

She smiled softly. “You already do. Your music touches so many people, Jihoon. Including me.”

He felt a warmth spread through him at her words. “What about you? What does it mean to you?”

Y/N took a moment to think before answering. “It’s about connection. Every lyric, every note… it’s a way to reach people, to let them know they’re not alone. I think that’s why I love working with you. You get that.”

For a moment, Jihoon was at a loss for words. Her sincerity, her openness—it was something he wasn’t used to but found himself drawn to.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “I don’t say this often, but… you’ve changed the way I look at things. Working with you—it’s made me realize how much more music can be when it’s shared.”

She looked at him, her eyes shining with gratitude. “You don’t know how much that means to me, coming from you.”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment, the weight of unspoken emotions filling the room. But before either of them could say more, Jihoon’s phone buzzed, breaking the moment.

The next morning, as they arrived at the practice room, the other members were already there. Hoshi immediately noticed the way Jihoon and Y/N seemed closer than usual.

“Did something happen last night?” he asked, his eyes darting between the two.

“Nothing happened,” Jihoon replied quickly, his ears turning pink.

Y/N, however, laughed. “We were just working on music. Don’t let your imagination run wild.”

The members didn’t buy it, but they let it go—for now.

Later that week, the group had a fan meeting, and Y/N was invited as a special guest to perform their duet live for the first time since its release. The fans erupted into cheers as Jihoon and Y/N took the stage together, their voices blending seamlessly as they sang.

During the performance, Jihoon couldn’t help but glance at Y/N, her presence radiating warmth and confidence. He realized that what had started as a professional partnership had grown into something far more personal.

After the performance, as they stood backstage, Y/N turned to Jihoon, her eyes sparkling. “That was incredible. Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Jihoon hesitated for a moment before replying. “Thank you… for everything.”

Y/N smiled, her hand lightly brushing his arm. And in that moment, Jihoon knew that whatever this was between them—friendship, partnership, or something more—he wasn’t ready to let it go.

A few days after their fan meeting, the duet performance went viral. Clips of Jihoon and Y/N on stage, their undeniable chemistry and harmonies, flooded social media. Fans couldn’t stop talking about how perfectly their voices blended and how natural their interactions seemed.

The buzz didn’t go unnoticed by SEVENTEEN.

“Have you seen the comments?” Seungkwan said, shoving his phone in front of Jihoon’s face during a break in practice.

Jihoon glanced at the screen, where fans had flooded the comments section with messages like:

“They’re perfect together!”

“Jihoon and Y/N need to release a whole album together!��

“Am I the only one who feels like there’s more to their story?”

Jihoon sighed, pushing the phone away. “It’s just the fans. They like to speculate.”

“But they’re not wrong,” Mingyu chimed in with a sly grin.

“Not you too,” Jihoon groaned.

That evening, Y/N visited the dorm for what was supposed to be a casual hangout. As usual, the members couldn’t help but stir the pot.

“So, Y/N,” Jeonghan started, leaning casually against the couch, “what’s it like being the most shipped person with Jihoon right now?”

Y/N nearly choked on her drink. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Hoshi said, joining in. “The fans are calling you the ‘power duo.’ Some are even saying you’re a better fit than us!”

“Don’t listen to them,” Jihoon muttered, his ears turning pink.

Y/N, recovering from her initial shock, laughed. “Well, I guess it’s a compliment? I mean, Jihoon is an incredible artist, so I’m honored.”

The room erupted in exaggerated “oohs,” with Seungkwan dramatically fanning Jihoon. “Did you hear that? She called you incredible!”

Jihoon buried his face in his hands, muttering, “Why do I even let you all talk?”

Despite the teasing, Jihoon couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at Y/N’s words. She always had a way of making him feel seen—not just as an artist but as a person.

Later that night, after everyone had settled down, Y/N and Jihoon found themselves alone on the dorm balcony, overlooking the city lights.

“It’s been a wild night, huh?” Y/N said, leaning against the railing.

Jihoon nodded, his gaze fixed on the skyline. “Yeah. I didn’t expect any of this when we started working together.”

“Me neither,” she admitted. “But I’m glad it happened. I’ve learned so much—not just about music but about myself.”

Jihoon glanced at her, his expression softening. “You’ve changed a lot of things for me, too. I didn’t realize how much I needed someone to remind me why I love what I do.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart skipping a beat at the vulnerability in his voice. “Jihoon… I—”

Before she could finish, the balcony door slid open, and Mingyu stuck his head out. “Hey, are you two having a moment? Because we’ve got snacks inside.”

Y/N burst out laughing, while Jihoon groaned. “You have the worst timing, Mingyu.”

Mingyu grinned. “That’s what I’m here for.”

As the night went on, the teasing and camaraderie continued, but something had shifted between Jihoon and Y/N. Though unspoken, there was an understanding growing between them—one that neither was ready to confront just yet but couldn’t deny any longer.

And as Jihoon watched Y/N laughing with his members, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something he’d been searching for without even realizing it.

The weeks passed, and Jihoon found himself unable to shake the feeling that had been slowly growing inside him. Every time Y/N smiled, every time their eyes met during a quiet moment, something in his chest fluttered. He had always been someone who let his music speak for him, but this time, it wasn’t enough just to express himself through lyrics. He needed to tell her, to be vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been with anyone before.

But how?

It was during a late-night studio session, after everyone else had left for the day, that Jihoon decided to do something about it. He had spent hours working on the song, tweaking the melody, perfecting the lyrics, and now it was ready.

The track wasn’t like anything he had made before. It was softer, more personal, and every note seemed to come straight from his heart. He had poured his feelings into it, capturing the emotions that he couldn’t say out loud. It was a love song. And the subject of it? None other than Y/N.

The next day, Jihoon invited Y/N to the studio under the guise of working on new material. She arrived, always eager to help or collaborate, but there was something different about Jihoon’s demeanor that caught her attention.

“What’s going on?” she asked as she walked into the studio. “You’ve been acting a little… off lately.”

Jihoon avoided her gaze, fiddling with the soundboard for a moment. “I… I have something I want to play for you.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, curious. “A new song?”

He nodded, his throat tightening slightly. “Yeah. But it’s… different.”

Y/N walked over to him and sat down, her eyes fixed on him. “I’m all ears, Jihoon.”

Jihoon hesitated for a moment longer before hitting play. The soft, melodic intro filled the room, and Y/N was immediately drawn into the haunting beauty of the song. As the lyrics began, she felt a stirring in her chest. The song felt… personal. Deeply personal.

She listened intently, her heart racing as the chorus hit, and Jihoon’s voice filled the space:

“I didn’t know how to say it, but now I know it’s true, Every moment with you feels like I’ve found something new. In the silence, in the music, in the things I never said, I’m falling for you, I’m falling for you, And I can’t take it back.”

The song went on, each lyric pulling Y/N deeper into the emotions Jihoon had poured into it. By the end, the room was thick with the unspoken words hanging in the air. The music faded, and for a few moments, there was silence.

Y/N slowly turned to look at Jihoon, her eyes wide with realization. “Jihoon… that song…”

He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s for you.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She had known there was something between them, something that had grown over time, but hearing him express it so clearly, through music, felt like a confession she hadn’t expected.

“Jihoon…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He finally met her gaze, his eyes vulnerable in a way she had never seen before. “I’ve been trying to ignore it, trying to tell myself I was just… overthinking. But every time you’re near, every time you smile, it feels like something more. I think… I think I’ve fallen for you, Y/N. And I couldn’t hide it anymore. Not after writing this song for you.”

Y/N’s heart raced as she processed his words, her own emotions swirling within her. She had felt it too—the connection, the way everything felt more meaningful when they were together. But hearing him say it out loud made it all so real.

She took a step closer, her voice soft but steady. “I’ve been feeling the same way, Jihoon.”

His eyes widened, and he took a step toward her as well. “Really?”

She nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve been too afraid to admit it, but… I’ve been falling for you, too. Maybe I didn’t want to admit it because I didn’t know if you felt the same, but… I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

The tension that had built between them in the past few months suddenly lifted. Jihoon, overcome with relief and happiness, took her hand gently.

“Then… do you think we can figure this out together?” he asked softly.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling. “I’d like that very much.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything else. The weight of the confession hung in the air, but the silence felt comfortable, like a shared understanding.

Jihoon squeezed her hand gently. “I don’t know what comes next, but I want to find out with you.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes shining. “Me too.”

And as they stood there, hand in hand, Jihoon knew that this song, the one that had started as a way to express his feelings, was just the beginning of a new chapter for them both.

For a few weeks, Jihoon and Y/N managed to keep their budding relationship under wraps. They weren’t intentionally hiding it, but neither of them was ready to face the whirlwind of teasing that would inevitably come from SEVENTEEN.

However, secrets rarely lasted long in a group as close-knit and nosy as SEVENTEEN.

It all started during a practice session. Jihoon had left his phone on the bench while the group worked through choreography, and a text from Y/N popped up on the screen:

Y/N: Can’t wait to see you tonight ❤️

Seungkwan, ever the observant one, noticed the notification first. “Oh? Hyung, care to explain this?” he asked, holding up the phone with a mischievous grin.

Jihoon froze mid-step, his face instantly turning crimson. “Give me that!” he snapped, rushing over to grab the phone.

But it was too late. Seungkwan had already shared the discovery with Hoshi and Jeonghan, who were now looking at Jihoon with matching expressions of glee.

“‘Can’t wait to see you tonight?’” Jeonghan teased, his tone dripping with mock innocence. “Jihoon, do you have plans we should know about?”

The rest of the group quickly caught on, gathering around as Jihoon struggled to come up with an excuse.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Nothing?” Hoshi said, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like something to me.”

“It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” Mingyu blurted out. The room went silent for a moment as everyone processed the possibility.

Jihoon sighed, realizing there was no escape. “Fine. Yes. It’s Y/N. We’re… dating.”

The room erupted into chaos.

“What?!” Seungkwan exclaimed, looking both shocked and delighted. “When did this happen?”

“Jihoon, you sly fox!” Jeonghan said, clapping him on the back.

“You’re dating Y/N, and you didn’t tell us?” Dino pouted. “I thought we were close!”

Jihoon groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, okay? It’s still new, and we didn’t want any unnecessary attention.”

Joshua, ever the voice of reason, stepped in. “Guys, let’s not overwhelm him. It’s Jihoon, after all. This must’ve taken a lot for him to admit.”

“Yeah,” DK added, grinning. “But seriously, Hyung, we’re happy for you. Y/N’s great.”

“She’s not just great,” Minghao said thoughtfully. “She fits in with us, and most importantly, she brings out a side of you we don’t see often. It’s nice.”

Jihoon looked around at his members, their teasing replaced with genuine support, and felt a wave of relief. “Thanks, guys. Just… keep it low-key, okay? We’re not ready for everyone to know yet.”

The group collectively agreed, though Jihoon wasn’t sure he trusted their definition of “low-key.”

That evening, Jihoon met Y/N at their usual spot in the studio. She could tell something was different as soon as he walked in.

“What happened?” she asked, tilting her head.

“They know,” Jihoon said, sitting beside her.

“Who knows?”

“SEVENTEEN,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Oh no. How bad was it?”

Jihoon chuckled despite himself. “About as chaotic as you’d expect. But… they’re happy for us. They promised to keep it a secret, though I don’t know how long that’ll last.”

Y/N smiled, reaching over to take his hand. “Well, I guess it was bound to happen. They’re your family, Jihoon. And honestly, I don’t mind if they know. I like being part of your world.”

Jihoon squeezed her hand, his heart swelling at her words. “You’re more than just part of it, Y/N. You’ve made it better.”

The next day, when Y/N visited the dorm for dinner, the teasing resumed, but it was all in good fun.

“So, Y/N,” Jeonghan said with a sly smile, “what’s it like dating our Jihoon? Is he as romantic as he is in his songs?”

Y/N laughed, glancing at Jihoon, who looked like he wanted to disappear. “He’s perfect,” she said simply, her sincerity making Jihoon’s face flush even more.

The room erupted into cheers and playful jabs, but beneath the chaos, there was a palpable warmth. SEVENTEEN was more than a group—they were a family. And now, Y/N was part of that family, too.

As the night wore on, Jihoon couldn’t help but feel grateful. For his members, for their unwavering support, and most of all, for Y/N, who had somehow become the piece he hadn’t realized was missing from his life.

A few weeks after SEVENTEEN’s comeback promotions wrapped up, Jihoon surprised fans with the announcement of a solo track, titled “Only for You.” The anticipation was palpable, especially after fans connected the dots between the mysterious teasers and Jihoon’s recent duet with Y/N.

When the song finally dropped, it was an instant hit. A tender and emotional ballad, the lyrics told the story of someone realizing they’ve found the one person who completes them. Jihoon’s heartfelt delivery struck a chord with listeners, but eagle-eyed fans noticed something peculiar.

The release coincided with a few subtle interactions between Jihoon and Y/N on social media. Comments like:

“This song feels so personal… is it inspired by someone special?”

“The vibe reminds me of Jihoon and Y/N’s duet. Are we missing something?”

“Wait a second… some of these lyrics feel like they match things Y/N said in interviews!”

The speculation ramped up a notch when, only a few days later, Y/N teased her own solo track, “Echo of You.”

When Y/N’s song dropped, fans were quick to notice that it felt like a reply to Jihoon’s. While Jihoon’s track spoke of falling for someone who brought light into his life, Y/N’s lyrics told the story of being seen and loved for who she truly was.

Lines like:

“I thought I was just a shadow, but your light made me shine.”

“Every melody you wrote felt like a message just for me.”

Fans flooded social media with theories.

“Wait, these songs feel connected. Are they… about each other?”

“Woozi's ‘Only for You’ and Y/N’s ‘Echo of You’ are like two sides of the same love story.”

“If this is real, I’ll cry. They’re perfect together!”

The speculation reached its peak when a fan-made mashup of the two songs went viral, seamlessly blending the tracks into a duet that felt like it was meant to be.

Back at SEVENTEEN’s dorm, the members couldn’t help but join the buzz.

“So,” Seungkwan started, holding up his phone, “the fans are catching on.”

Jihoon groaned, slumping onto the couch. “I knew this would happen.”

“I mean, they’re not wrong,” Jeonghan said, smirking. “The songs do sound like they’re talking to each other.”

Y/N, who had been invited over for dinner, sat beside Jihoon, trying (and failing) to suppress her laughter. “It’s kind of impressive how quickly they picked up on it.”

Joshua leaned forward, grinning. “Are you two going to say anything? Or just let the fans go wild with their theories?”

Jihoon glanced at Y/N, his expression thoughtful. “What do you think?” he asked her.

Y/N smiled softly. “I don’t mind letting them wonder for now. I like that the songs are just ours, even if people are curious.”

The members all groaned in mock frustration.

“You’re both too private for your own good,” Mingyu teased. “Just admit it already and save us the headache!”

“Admit what?” Jihoon shot back, feigning innocence.

“That you two are the main characters in the greatest musical love story ever told,” Hoshi declared dramatically, earning laughter from the group.

Despite the teasing, Jihoon and Y/N decided to keep quiet, letting their music speak for them. The buzz around their songs only grew, with both tracks climbing the charts and becoming fan favorites.

During a live Q&A, Jihoon was inevitably asked about the inspiration for “Only for You.”

“It’s about someone who changed the way I see the world,” he said simply, his expression soft.

When Y/N was asked a similar question about “Echo of You,” she smiled knowingly. “It’s a song about gratitude and love—for someone who helped me realize my worth.”

The fans didn’t need anything more. To them, the connection between the songs—and their creators—was obvious.

One evening, as they sat together in Jihoon’s studio, Y/N turned to him with a playful smile. “So, do you think they’ve figured it out yet?”

Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head. “I think they know. They’re just waiting for us to say it out loud.”

“And when do you think we should?” she asked, tilting her head.

Jihoon thought for a moment before replying, his voice warm. “Maybe someday. But for now, I like that the songs tell our story. It feels… special.”

Y/N leaned closer, her hand resting on his. “I like that too.”

The weeks following the dual song releases were a whirlwind. Both tracks dominated the charts, and the fan theories only grew more elaborate. Mashups, fan edits, and endless analysis filled the internet, with fans piecing together subtle interactions and shared moments.

Despite their best efforts to stay under the radar, the buzz became too loud to ignore. SEVENTEEN’s members didn’t make it any easier, constantly dropping playful hints during interviews and live streams.

One day, Jihoon and Y/N found themselves at a joint event where multiple HYBE artists were present. It was a casual, live-streamed Q&A session, and the energy in the room was lively. Fans flooded the chat with questions about collaborations, their music, and, of course, the connection between Jihoon’s and Y/N’s songs.

The host, clearly aware of the buzz, decided to address the elephant in the room.

“So, Woozi-shi and Y/N-shi,” they began, a mischievous glint in their eye. “The fans have been talking nonstop about how your songs seem… connected. Care to comment?”

Jihoon, caught off guard, glanced at Y/N. She met his gaze with a small, encouraging smile, her eyes silently asking, Are you ready?

He hesitated for a moment before leaning into the mic. “Well,” he started, his voice calm but tinged with nervousness, “the fans aren’t wrong. The songs are connected.”

The room fell silent for a moment, everyone—including the other artists—hanging on his every word.

Y/N chimed in, her tone light but honest. “We didn’t plan for it to be a big mystery. We just wrote from our hearts. And, well… our hearts were in the same place.”

The host’s eyes widened in realization. “Wait, are you saying—”

Jihoon nodded, cutting them off gently. “Y/N and I… we’re together. And the songs were our way of telling that story without saying it outright.”

The room erupted into applause, cheers, and a few playful whistles from SEVENTEEN and the other HYBE artists. The fans watching the live stream went wild, the chat filling with messages like:

“I KNEW IT!”

“This is the best plot twist ever!”

“Our musical power couple!”

Later that evening, Jihoon and Y/N sat together backstage, scrolling through the flood of messages on social media.

“Looks like the fans are taking it well,” Y/N said, laughing as she read a particularly enthusiastic comment.

Jihoon smiled, his shoulders relaxing for the first time in weeks. “I guess I shouldn’t have worried so much. They seem… happy for us.”

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder. “Of course they are. We’ve been honest in the best way we know how—through our music.”

Jihoon wrapped an arm around her, his voice soft. “I’m glad we finally said it. It feels good not to hide anymore.”

She looked up at him, her eyes shining. “Me too.”

As the weeks passed, their relationship became a beloved story among fans. Jihoon and Y/N didn’t share much beyond their music and occasional glimpses of their dynamic, but their authenticity resonated with everyone.

Their next collaboration—a duet explicitly written as a continuation of their story—became one of the most anticipated releases of the year, cementing their status as not just two incredible artists but as a couple who had found love in the heart of their shared passion.

And as Jihoon often said in interviews, with a small, knowing smile: “It all started with a song.”

The announcement of Jihoon and Y/N’s relationship didn’t just excite fans; it gave SEVENTEEN endless new material to tease their usually reserved member. And, of course, they weren’t going to let the opportunity go to waste during their next content shoot.

The group was filming an episode of their popular variety show, “GOING SEVENTEEN,” and the theme for the day was a mock courtroom trial where members had to defend themselves against outrageous (and often ridiculous) accusations.

As the camera rolled, Jeonghan smirked, ready to unleash chaos. “Today, I bring a serious accusation against Jihoon,” he began, standing dramatically as the self-appointed prosecutor.

Jihoon, sitting at the “defendant’s” table, raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

Jeonghan held up an imaginary piece of paper, squinting at it for effect. “Jihoon, you’ve been accused of… secretly writing love songs instead of working on group projects. How do you plead?”

The room erupted in laughter, with Seungkwan clapping his hands. “Guilty! We all know it’s true!”

Jihoon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yes!” Hoshi chimed in, his grin practically splitting his face. “We’ve all noticed you humming random melodies lately. Are those for us, or… someone else?”

The teasing didn’t stop there. As the trial continued, the members took turns “presenting evidence.”

Mingyu dramatically placed a notebook on the table. “Exhibit A: Jihoon’s lyric book. Do we need to open it to find the word ‘Y/N’ written a hundred times?”

Dino jumped in, mimicking an investigator. “Exhibit B: The way Jihoon smiles at his phone during breaks. Suspicious behavior if you ask me.”

Even the usually quiet Wonwoo joined in. “Exhibit C: The recent duet with Y/N. We all heard it. It’s basically a confession set to music.”

By this point, Jihoon’s face was a deep shade of red, though he couldn’t help but chuckle.

During a break in filming, Joshua leaned over to Jihoon. “You know, they’re only teasing because they’re happy for you, right?”

“I know,” Jihoon replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But they’re relentless.”

“Hey, it’s good content,” Joshua said with a wink. “The fans will love it.”

Later in the shoot, the tables turned when it was Jihoon’s chance to act as the judge. He banged the gavel dramatically. “I have an accusation of my own,” he announced, his tone firm but playful.

The members gasped in mock horror.

“I accuse SEVENTEEN of being the nosiest group in the industry,” Jihoon declared, pointing at them one by one. “Always prying, always teasing. How do you plead?”

“Guilty!” Seungkwan shouted, raising his hands in surrender. “But we do it out of love!”

Hoshi stood up, grinning. “Your Honor, I’d like to counter-accuse. Jihoon is guilty of smiling more these days. We all know the reason why.”

The room burst into laughter once again, and Jihoon couldn’t help but shake his head, a reluctant smile on his face.

As the shoot wrapped up, the director praised the group for their energy and humor. The episode, once edited, was full of golden moments that had fans laughing and cooing over SEVENTEEN’s antics.

And while Jihoon might have been the butt of the jokes, the camaraderie and genuine affection from his members shone through.

In the comments section of the uploaded episode, fans were quick to notice the playful dynamic:

“SEVENTEEN teasing Jihoon about Y/N is peak family energy!”

“Jihoon trying to act annoyed but secretly loving it is so cute.”

“The way they all support him in their own chaotic way makes me emotional.”

That evening, as Jihoon returned to his studio, his phone buzzed with a message from Y/N:

Y/N: Saw the episode preview. They’re so obvious, lol.

Jihoon smiled, typing back:

Jihoon: They’re impossible. But at least they’re on our side.

Y/N: Always. And so am I.

As he leaned back in his chair, Jihoon couldn’t help but feel grateful—not just for Y/N, but for the family he’d found in SEVENTEEN.

Even if they never let him live it down.

[dandylovesturtles]

Now that 2024 is coming to a close:

1) Of everything you've made this year, which ones are you the most proud of?

2) What are a few of your favorite things (art, comics, fics, etc) that someone else has made this past year?

(Gonna apologize in advance that this answer won’t have specific links because I moved fast)

1. Well, this year I finished I May Be Invisible, But I Still Look Good, which was a major accomplishment for me! It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written, and I was really proud of myself for sticking it out to the end. It got way bigger than I ever expected, and big thanks again to everyone who came on the ride with me.

Of the things I started this year, my favorite has been the emotional support water bottles AKA Room Fic. Kind of insane to think I came up with the first one while eating lunch and dropped all my plans for the afternoon to write the whole thing in one day lol! I hope to get the last followup done soon, I’ve just had a little trouble getting my mojo.

There’s another project I started this year that I hoped to have out already but maybe sometime in the first part of next year. I’m excited to share it when it’s done!

2. Oh boy I’ll try to get everything!

I of course enjoyed some ongoing projects this year, including Replica AU by @kathaynesart, Sep Leo AU by @dianagj-art, 2 Arms Left by @intotheelliwoods, Adagio in Green by @boxfullaturtles, and Empyrean Weeping by @cupcakeslushie! Also shoutout to the @tizeline Sep AU where Donnie is the most chaotic only child, and @vangh17a ‘s Wanderer comic which is beautiful and intriguing.

@remedyturtles broke all our hearts with Firefight this year and I had a great time teaming up during the AU Comp! Also LOVED their fic about third man syndrome, but I’m always a sucker for Leo and his papa.

I love everything @goodlucktai has ever written but I especially loved the recent A Team fics and also the Archer AU! Gio is so precious

On the subject of lost siblings, I am privileged to be the beta reader for @kiaxet ‘s fic Siblingquest. Cissy is also precious, and I’m really excited about Kia’s future plans for the story!

And there’s just been a ton of great art this year from so many people, including @e-turn @trilobitepunch @koolaidashley and so many others. I know I’m missing so many people but this community is just full of talented, amazing artists!

And finally, my biggest love and shoutout for this year goes to @untitled-tmnt-blog , who not only makes GORGEOUS art pieces, but who made me a whole physical BOOK for IMBI!! Seriously the most touching thing anyone has ever done for me. PLEASE check out untitled’s art (and writing!) because everything she does is amazing.

And so many others who have talked with me about this fun show and who listen to me rambling about my endless AU ideas. You are all so cool. Here’s to 2025!

And thanks for the ask!

[mermaidchansons]

Divine Indeed: Part Three

Neighbor!Terry Richmond x Divine Wells (black OC)

Story Summary: Divine Wells, a 31-year-old seamstress, deals with waves of change after she picks up her life and moves to San Diego for a new job. She thought she’d finally found peace in her new normal; until Oshun decided to push her path to collide with her fine ass neighbor, Terry Richmond.

Words: 2100+

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ minors do NOT engage (you’ll be blocked), mommy issues, tism is tisming real bad, cannabis usage

Series Playlist

Author’s Note: Woah, can’t believe we’re already on part three! I hope y’all catch my ‘roll credits!’ moment lmao. I wanna know, does anyone relate to Divine? Also, would you be able to resist Terry’s charm? Lemmie know <3 - Ashanti

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4

Part Three

If Divine had to hand stitch another bead on a corseted gown, she was going to scream. She never thought an article of clothing would make her wish Olorun had created her. This one was a rush job, custom ordered by some famous artist’s team. Every day for the past two weeks, her workspace was a mess; seas of blue, silver, and green beads bestrewed it and found their way into her apartment. Divine would undress for bed every night and the clang of beads would hit her floor, rolling to god knows where. Sometimes sending a sharp pain through her foot when she happened to stumble upon them. I love my job, I love my job, I love my job. And she did love her job. Her backbreaking, finger-numbing job that she had manifested and waited for. She remembered laying on her parent’s living room floor, spinning tales of her dream job to her twin Seraphim. She just needed a small break from it. Thank goddess for a holiday weekend, maybe she’d get some feeling back in her hands.

S: So I guess no Breath of The Wild tonight?

Divine let out an exaggerated sigh and pulled her sleep shirt over her head. Friday nights were Switch nights for the Wells siblings. Pajamas, the $5.99 mix-and-match deal from the local pizzeria, and pre-rolls. Now, a new job and 652 miles later, they partied virtually. But it wasn’t the same for Divine. She didn’t miss her town, but she missed her sibling. Her twin never failed to make her smile. 

D: I’m sorry, Ser. They’ve been riding me to finish that project and I need sleep before I DIY death

S: You’re so valid, sib. Oh, heads up, mom says to call her

D: Ugh, don’t even start, I’m bout to knock out

S: Here’s a meme for your consolation *sends meme*

[a photo of an aurora borealis sky with a dragon leaning into frame and text that says ‘your man wouldn’t even fill a lesser soul gem’]

Divine chuckled tiredly, and rolled over into position: one leg up with her knee uncovered to offset the heat. Her eyes started to flutter closed when her phone buzzed. 

S: On some real shit though, you need to call her. I can’t keep playing the middleman

It had been three weeks, two days, and 5 hours since she last spoke to her mom. Her subconscious kept counting ever since she raised her voice at her mother for the first time in twenty-nine years. It was a day where a particular form of sadness clung to Divine and refused to leave; an unwanted host, sucking the serotonin out of her with a crazy straw. Baby Divine had always been regarded as moody or possessing an attitude by the adults around. But when the ‘big sad’ hit, there was nothing she could do to fix it. So she dared to feel her feelings and was honest when her mom asked how she was doing. 

She didn’t know if she wanted to vent or scream or cry. She just wanted to be comforted, to be told that everything was going to be okay. Looking back on it, Divine squirmed in bed, the slimy feeling of regret coating her mouth. She knew her mother was solution based. She knew her mother could not offer what she needed. She knew. And yet, she still tried to penetrate the wall that shrouded her mother’s understanding. A small part of her hoped that maybe this would be the time when she would be surprised by the response. Divine felt the small light of hope in her chest go out as soon as the words left her mother’s mouth. 

‘Did you use your tools?’ 

‘Have you asked the Orisha’s for guidance?’ 

‘You can’t keep letting these things devastate you’

‘You can’t let one thing dictate your entire day’

‘Stop being so dramatic’

Divine left the call breathless and broken, cutting her fingers on the pieces as she tried to pull herself back together. She was angry. Partly at her mother but mostly at herself. How could she be so childish to think that her mother would offer her the comfort that she searched for? As if her mother was capable of change; as if she hadn’t had similar conversations with her mother every time the unsolicited host reared its ugly head. She didn’t even remember what she screamed before hanging up suddenly. 

Sera was right and she knew it. She’d have to speak to her eventually. She hated it when her twin was right. Squeezing her eyes shut, Divine turned away from the phone to smoosh her face against her brightly patterned pillow. That was a problem for future Divine. She laid her hand against her protruding tummy and focused on her breathing. A trick a counselor had taught her in middle school that carried her for the last 16 years. Sucking in a deep breath, holding for four seconds, and breathing out for another four; her mind and all its worries drifted away. 

In the swirl of darkness, Divine felt scans of heat travel up her legs. Wet sounds of her arousal sounded in her ears, tightening her stomach as thick lips wrapped around her hardened bead. She stifled a moan while reaching out desperately. The sensation was building steadily, determined to tear her apart. A large calloused hand wrapped around hers and placed it atop waves of hair. Finally finding the strength to open her eyes, she leaned up to see the man who was so intent on pleasuring her. He was massive against her 5’2 frame. His shoulder blades rolled under his caramel tinted skin as he pushed her right thigh as far back as it would go. The new angle revealed more of his face. Divine caught sight of a dark, neat eyebrow before the man pushed two fingers into her dewy entrance. 

The steady pace of his fingers moving in and out of her tightened the coil in her abdomen, a guttural moan escaping her throat and betraying her. She’d never heard these noises come out of her mouth before. What was he doing to her? The man moaned against her sex in approval, speeding up his pace. Divine threw her head back in ecstasy, shutting her eyes once more to chase the orgasm she knew she needed. Her heart pounded as the tips of her ears set ablaze and the coil snapped. Her body seized up as she came, her hardened bead twitching discordantly against his tongue. He pulled his fingers out of her slowly, eliciting a deep hum from his lips. When Divine blinked away her tears, she was shocked to see a naked Terry of Level 5. Those same stormy ocean eyes staring directly into her soul, making her want to come all over again. Her mouth dropped as she watched him suck the evidence of her arousal off of his fingers. 

“Just like I thought you would taste. Divine, indeed.”

For a moment everything went black and Divine shot out of bed, thunder booming in her ears. She looked around the dark room before patting wildly and picking up her phone. 

6:00 AM

Missed Call from The Momster Mash 38 min. ago

Groaning, Divine covered her face with her Gajeel body pillow. She’d never felt so embarrassed. Terry was so kind the last time they saw each other and she couldn’t help but wonder what his lips tasted like while he talked. One conversation and he had invaded her mind. After giving herself a good talking to, she had nipped that kind of thinking in the bud; even going so far as to avoid him completely. She’d felt the chill of possibility creep up her spine when his thick lips parted into a smile. The weakness in her knees was a warning she knew to heed. So she swore off thinking about his piercing eyes and his wide biceps for good. Or, she at least thought she had. Her eyes darted to her ancestor table, then to her nightstand where Terry’s business card had been lying untouched for the past four weeks. The cold wet spot beneath her gave her pause and she looked out at the rain hitting her window with pleading eyes. 

“Oshun, please. Please leave me be. Please stop.” 

She definitely couldn’t text him now.

7:00 PM

Quack! Quack! Quack! 

Divine jumped at the sound of her alarm, scuttering to turn it off while never taking her eyes off the computer. Too many hours had passed since she started crocheting a cardigan after breakfast, or what Divine would consider to be breakfast: a piece of toast and a sweet potato latte from her new favorite coffee shop. The two items may have satisfied her mind, but her stomach thought otherwise. It wasn’t that Divine didn’t like food, it was just eating. The process of it. Having to sit down and dedicate the time to chew and drink and chew; it was an exercise in patience that she didn’t have. Food regret was also too much of a risk, so comfort food items were often exhausted. To the point where food began to taste bland and feel like a waste of time.

A loud and low grumble erupted from her tummy beneath her blankets. Pausing the gaming marathon, she scrunched up her face at the sound. She only had one sleeve left. Certainly, her stomach could wait for another hour or two- Grumbleeee. Groaning loudly, she threw her head back in defeat before rolling her chair back. She stretched her arms and legs as far as they could go, eliciting a symphony of pops and cracks from different body parts. Beelining into the bedroom closet, she hastily changed into something comfy and cute. She may not always like the task of eating, but she desperately needed an enchilada before her stomach made it known to the entire apartment complex that she was starving herself for a crochet project. 

Ordering a car in record time, Divine stood before her small altar with her hand on her chest. She closed her eyes tight and prayed to the ancestors and Orishas for peace of mind, a safe drive over, and to be treated with compassion. Going to a restaurant alone wasn’t a new thing for her, but having to go outside and deal with people was its own beast. Her phone alerted her that her driver was only two minutes away. Should she take her yarn with her? No, she’s already taking her switch and a journal. How many side quests did one person need for a dinner? Divine hesitated with her hand on the doorknob, before turning on her heels to go back to her messy craft table. She grabbed the half-unraveled ball of yarn and shoved it into her tote before walking out without another thought. 

Friday nights were a risky time to go out for dinner. Traffic downtown was already bad, but walking traffic was even worse. Couples and 21-year-olds filled the walkways, chatting so loud you could hear their conversation from around the corner. Divine had never been more happy to be a solo diner. No 45-minute wait or being seated in the middle of a bustling restaurant. She could grab a seat at the bar, order food from the bartender, and watch Black Lightening in peace. Simple as that; as long as this security line continues to move. 

The line was zooming past. But time seemed to slow the closer the stranger behind her got. She could practically feel his breath against her neck as the gap between them disappeared. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she watched the snooty-looking man teeter to the side impatiently; sneering at her before yelling at the person ahead to ‘speed up, bro’. He was bouncing up and down while clutching his girlfriend’s hand like a child. Her patience was thinning but there was only one person left in front of her. Divine turned the music up in her headphones to drown out his nasal voice. Inching up, she tried her best to keep a respectable gap between them while she fished out her ID. If he got any closer, she was going to give up on the entire crusade and go home hungry. 

A sprinkle of rain tapped against her face, making her look down and watch the feet in front of her enter the restaurant. Relief washed over her as she approached the door and handed over her info.

“Look who it is.”

Thanks For Reading!

@babybluepeaches @muse-of-mbaku @melaninmarvel @naturallyqueenie @howtoshuckatlife @goldieccentric @archivistofwakanda @alexundefined @minyara-kun @destinio1 @raysunshine78 @madamslayyy @notdsg @ghostfacekill-monger @soufcakmistress @greennightspider @bitchacho25 @jordanhelah @puremolasses @ajspencer1892 @monochrome-pineapple @psuedo4 @bubblyqueen @chaneajoyyy @blowmymbackout @tchallasbabymama @megamindsecretlair @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @jvzmine19 @ashanti-notthesinger

[haleswallows]

Happy Friday!

Fandom: DC x DP Pairing: Dead Tired (Danny/Tim) Rating: Teen High Fantasy AU, Arranged Marriage, and Dragons (oh my!) Chapter 13

TEASER:

“I dare say Phantom could not have found a better match,” Frostbite mused. A pretty flush rose on the prince’s cheeks. Danny focused on it, instead of his own fluttering heart. “If you wish for me to approve,” he directed at Danny, tone indulgently affectionate, “then you need not worry, Snowflake.”

He didn’t need to voice his thanks. It was a relief, not that Danny thought Frostbite wouldn’t approve. But the reassurance was welcome.

“You will stay a few days?” Frostbite asked as he shuffled his wings. They rasped against each other. “It is so rare a human comes to see me, and I do not remember ever meeting a prince from Gotham.”

“Mūti invited us to stay with her for a few days,” Danny said. “And I’ve been told by no less than three people to enjoy a little time from the Keep. Apparently, I’m stressed.”

“So I will get to see you both some more yet. A delightful surprise.” Frostbite rolled his eye back to the prince, who blinked at the sudden change in the ancient’s attention. “Little prince, I must implore you to look after this willful child. He has a great talent for getting himself into all manner of messes and trouble. I fear he has no survival instincts, despite all my worrying.”

“Stop it,” Danny groused. He was glad for the cold, perhaps it would hide his blush. “I was going to ask if you’d like to have the honor of doing our soulbond, but I don’t think I will now.”

“Ah.” Nudging Danny with his snout, Frostbite nearly bowled Danny onto his butt. “Child, I implore you to allow me. You have no talent in holding a spell.”

Gods, Frostbite just kept outing all his flaws. Soon, the prince would know all of Danny’s failings. How embarrassing.

“I just thought,” Danny said as he threw his arms around Frostbite’s nose. “You would like to help. It seemed appropriate, to have the great Ancient Frostbite cast the first soulbond between High Chief and Gotham Prince. That, and I have no talent for holding a spell.”

Frostbite snorted, blowing a clump of flurries all over Danny's front and up his nose. Danny stumbled away, rubbing his face. Like father, like son, he supposed. Sometimes he hoped Aquila would drop the habit, but Danny lost all illusions he would. Afterall, if Frostbite was still doing it in his timeless state, then it was a lost cause.

Danny rejoined the prince, sniffling a little.

“Would you like to evoke the soulbond now?” Frostbite tucked away his sly smile, circling back to the serious topic. “Or shall we wait for tomorrow?”

Now didn’t bother Danny. He shrugged, and gave deference to Prince Timothy to allow the prince to answer for them. “Oh.” The prince turned to him, chewing his lip as he searched Danny’s face. Danny absolutely didn’t let his eyes drop to the prince’s mouth. “I have no qualms with now.”

Looking between them, Frostbite smiled so softly, Danny felt the warmth of his affection. Some day, it would stop surprising him. And some day, he might even feel like he deserved it. For all his flaws and mistakes, Danny didn’t know what he did to deserve the dragon’s unconditional love.

Exist, he supposed. For Frostbite, it was that simple.

“Snowflake?” Frostbite rumbled. Danny pulled on a smile, letting the dour thoughts fall away.

This was easy. Well, maybe not easy, but familiar at least. Danny had gone through the motions five times now, and every bonding felt a bit different. Of course it did, each bond was different.

The prince’s nervousness was obvious. He stood stiffly, and his grip tightened on Danny’s hand.

Danny smiled encouragingly – Frostbite would take care of them, the ancient would never be able to bear it if he did harm to a human. Carefully, he guided the prince a few steps away and took both his hands so they stood face to face. It reminded him forcibly of the marriage rites in the Keep.

Maybe this time, Danny would be able to control himself and not kiss the prince.

The prince’s eyes fluttered a moment as he took a deep breath. “Ready?” Danny murmured, just for him. “Take all the time you need, Your Highness.”

He couldn’t help it – Danny watched the prince, even though he knew Frostbite would have words for him later. Both for getting married without telling him and for being so carelessly besotted. But who could blame him? Eyelashes a thick fan over cheeks tinted pink by the cold, lips plush from all the biting he had done, the prince was a vision. To keep himself in check, Danny rubbed his thumbs over the backs of Prince Timothy’s hands, hoping it served to soothe his nerves.

The prince looked up at Danny through his eyelashes, and nodded. “Ready.”

Frostbite breathed out a great plume of swirling snowflakes. And a new bond opened, pulling on Danny’s soul.

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The bond took. It slammed into Tim’s mind with a foreign weight, a headache forming right behind it as his brain struggled with the new input. Unknown, unlike anything he had ever experienced.

He was instantly aware of Phantom’s proximity - not just physically, the heat of his body, the sound of his breaths. But now internally. His mind was like a compass needle, and Phantom true North. A tugging in his mind, a pull that Tim tensed himself against to keep from leaning towards. Tim knew in his heart of hearts that blindfolded and turned around, he would be able to find his way to Phantom.

It was terrifying.

And nestled between the stinging pain of the headache, the pull of the bond in his frontal lobe, there was something else. A blur of emotions, a bouquet of flavors and colors in his mind, his hands quivering, his heart pounding. It took Tim a long breathless moment to disentangle it from his own feelings.

Joy-affection-warm that bled into guilt-sad-dread as he worked to pick them apart.

Was... was that Phantom?

Tim kept his eyes closed, chasing the emotions. Scared-affection-guilt felt sour and warm, like curdled milk. He couldn’t discern if the swoop in his stomach was the same as seeing Dick come back from patrol with only small scrapes, or the same as a missed step, expecting solid ground and finding nothing.

Like a hound, Tim pursued it. Relentless in trying to grasp it. His own emotions felt pale in comparison, his heart pounding with Phantom’s fear.

Fear?

And just as soon as he captured it, the bond was gone. Echoing in his mind, like the gates of Wayne Castle slamming closed. Tim blinked his eyes open.

Phantom stood a few paces apart, his face turned away. The armor he wore disguised any tension in body but Tim could see the way his hands clenched. It looked like he didn’t even breathe. The leather of his gloves creaked with the force he fisted them at his sides – the only outward expression Tim could see. Tim… didn’t understand.

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Orbit - Act Three

Y/N has a little problem and it’s that she’s literally never alone. She hasn’t known what a little peace and quiet is for nearly a decade. When her therapist suggests a wellness retreat, she expects to be bored to death and just maybe learn to like meditation a little bit. She does not expect to meet someone that she has an insane connection with. Too bad it might be too good to be true.

You can find the masterlist here. 

Genre: medium au, a hint of soulmate au, heavy on the angst 

Pairing: Minghao x reader (featuring therapist!Jeonghan, best friend!Junhui, and ghost!Vernon, with a tiny bit of coworker!Seungkwan)

TW/CW: *deep breath* a lot of discussion of death and moving on (or not) afterwards, grief, trauma (specifically regarding a car accident), therapy, meditation, hypnosis, sleep disturbances, psychic abilities, discussion of mental illness and treatments, and explicit smut. MDNI. 

There are some difficult topics in this story and they are handled as delicately as possible, but proceed with caution if anything here might be upsetting.

Word count: 8.4k

Minghao watches the snow fall outside. He’s physically relaxed, lost in thought. It kind of feels like how he drifts in his sleep, but he’s awake. He’s just… not with it today. This time of year bothers him. He’s far away from family and won’t be able to visit this year, meaning he’s left with his thoughts. 

“Minghao?” He snaps back into his body, looking at Jeonghan, who looks patient but a little concerned. His notebook is already on the table. “You look a little lost today.”

“Sorry,” Minghao clears his throat. “What were you saying?”

“I was asking how things are going with that woman. Y/N, wasn’t it?” 

His heart races and it’s both a good and bad thing. It’s now been a couple months since he started dating you and he’s still head over heels. You seem to be too. But he’s sort of feels like he’s living a double life lately. 

“She’s good. Things are good.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Where’s the stupid grin that you normally wear when you talk about her?” Minghao opens his mouth but then thinks better of it and closes it. Jeonghan purses his lips, glancing at his watch. He doesn’t have to remind Minghao that he’s shut down early. He just knows. “Trouble in paradise?”

“No!” Jeonghan’s eyebrows shoot up at Minghao’s knee-jerk reaction. Minghao tries to recover, if only a little. “I mean, it’s fine. Great, even.”

“But?” Jeonghan trails off. When Minghao doesn’t respond, Jeonghan uses his tried and true tactic. He tells you how you feel and he wants you to correct him. “It’s hard to let someone in, right? You seem like the type that might find it difficult.”

“I’m gonna throw more than a pillow at you.”

Jeonghan shrugs like he’s heard worse threats. “Am I wrong?”

“Yes,” Minghao insists hotly. “It’s not hard to let her in on 99% of things. It’s actually very easy.”

Jeonghan gives him an irritatingly easy smile. “Right. Soulmates and all.” Minghao’s fingers grip the pillow in his lap at the way he says ‘soulmates’ like it’s entertainment. It’s not entertainment to Minghao. It’s soul-crushing in the best way possible. “Tell me, what could you possibly not tell your soulmate of all people? What’s in that 1%?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the astral projection. She’ll probably look at me like I’m crazy,” Minghao avoids. 

Jeonghan looks highly entertained, leaning back and smirking. “What, is she not a believer in that sort of thing?”

“No,” Minghao grates, already growing frustrated with the conversation. “The astral projection itself wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Then what is?” Jeonghan presses, curiosity evident.

Minghao groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “It would make me sound crazy.”

“Do you realize where you are? That’s what I’m here for,” Jeonghan deadpans. 

“Fine,” Minghao huffs impatiently, pressing his fingers into his throbbing temples. He hates thinking about this. “How would I tell her that the first time I met her wasn’t at the retreat?”

Jeonghan tilts his head to the side, looking kind of perplexed. “I’m gonna need more than that.”

Minghao opens his mouth and words just start to fall out. It’s long winded and rambling and probably makes no sense. When Minghao falls silent, Jeonghan is quiet for a long time, a weird expression on his face as he looks outside at the snow. It makes Minghao snort. “Told you it sounds crazy. You’ve thought so since I told you about the wellness retreat.”

Jeonghan shakes his head vehemently. “Oh no. I believe you. Don’t take my silence as doubt.” His smile turns wry. “It’s not exactly what I trained to deal with, you know?” Minghao thinks he looks like he has a million questions, but he starts with, “when did that start?”

Minghao shrugs though he knows exactly how long it’s been, almost right down to the minute. “Ten years ago or so.” 

Jeonghan’s interest is piqued. “Was there a catalyst? Or it just happened one day?”

“There was a catalyst. I’d really like to not talk about that.” 

Minghao is kind of surprised when Jeonghan backs off. At least from direct questions, anyway. “And what exactly keeps you from telling her any of this? Do you think she would judge?” 

Minghao immediately shakes his head. “No. Like I said, she wouldn’t be fazed about the astral projection. She’s got her own things going on. It’s the… other stuff that I’m worried about.” 

Jeonghan pins him with a look that is strangely stern for someone who is supposed to be calm and relatively impartial. “So she’s told you her secrets, but you can’t tell her yours? That’s a pretty big double standard, Minghao.”

“It’s not just one piece that I’m worried about,” Minghao bites. “I’m worried about the other ones that fall like dominos when I let her in on one.”

Jeonghan must recognize that he won’t be getting anywhere on that path today, because he chews the inside of his cheek for a second. “Fine. The thing is, if she finds out without you being the one to tell her intentionally, it could upset her. You should think about it.” Minghao feels more sober than he ever has in his life. Jeonghan doesn’t let him linger. “Tell me more about the astral projecting.”

He answers but his mind is on other things. 

You’re restless. So restless, in fact, that you feel bad for keeping Minghao up. You’re at his apartment tonight, but there’s very little hope of sleeping, so you leave him in bed and go to the living room, curling up under a blanket and turning on the TV. 

This time of year is hard. Historically, your mood hasn’t been great anyway, but it majorly tanks by now every year. Maybe there’s some seasonal depression - or just straight up year round clinical depression, but there’s a heaviness that follows you like a black cloud each year the moment snow hits the ground. After all, it’s just a week before the anniversary of the accident. Jeonghan says that kind of mood shift would be normal for anyone, but you think he was trying to soften the blow right before he tells you he wants you to go back to the psychiatrist, this time for anti-depressants or the like. You have something scheduled but you don’t know if you’ll show up for that.

And your mood had been good. Worlds better than previous years thanks to Minghao’s presence in your life. He gives so much warmth to you that sometimes you feel a little undeserving. You’ve noticed his mood is a little off this time of year too, and he admits it’s because he’s so far from family. You do your best to match his warmth, but you don’t know how well you do at that. But even with him next to you, you could still feel the black cloud hovering over your head and you fear you’re bringing him down too. 

You like staying at Minghao’s apartment. It’s peaceful, far more peaceful than your own apartment sometimes. It might be because of how far into the metaphysical stuff he leans. He’s got the incense and oils and crystals, you name it. You wonder if maybe he bought some of them for you, but you haven’t been brave enough to ask. You still don’t have a lot of that stuff in your own apartment, if only because you want to get a handle on this thing without relying on all the tools.

Still, that peace you feel in his apartment means you eventually doze off on the couch to reruns on the TV. You actually dream this time and it feels like reliving what you and Minghao jokingly call your first date - the night drive to look at the stars. That brings a lot of peace too, remembering how you realized you were in love with him that night. You were honest when you told him nothing would ever compare. 

You wake up slowly, but your body wakes up even slower. You’re staring at Minghao’s TV as you lay on your side, but you can’t move a muscle. Just like every time you experience sleep paralysis, you feel that slice of fear. But there’s nobody in front of you asking for anything this time. So you will your heart to stop racing. You don’t know how long it will take to come out of this, but all you have to do is wait. 

As the panic fades, you realize you’re hearing whispering. 

“You’re such an asshole,” one voice snaps.

“And you’re totally innocent here. Right,” another voice bites.

“I don’t understand why you’re hanging on to this secret. It would actually make a difference for you.” You feel your stomach flip because both of these voices sound a little familiar in your hazy mind. 

“Then it leads right to your secret, which you’re holding onto with an iron fist. Which is stupid, by the way, in case I didn’t tell you that already.”

“It matters because you’ve been visiting her like this for years! I can’t see the line that goes out the door. You can.”

“And how would she handle that, Vernon? She’d run the opposite direction. It doesn’t matter if I can’t help it because it’s creepy.”

“Creepy to check up on someone that you have a connection with? Do you remember who we’re talking about here? That would be the least of her concerns.”

This voice hisses, intense anger pouring into the sound. “Stop calling it a connection. It was an accident! It has nothing to do with what we’re like now. It’s not why I’m with her.”

“It has everything to do with it, Minghao. Why do you think I’m still here? If you could just get your shit together, maybe I could leave.”

“Will you stop blaming me for that? I take the blame for the accident. I don’t take the blame for keeping you here. That’s on you!”

“And I think she’d like to know that you had something to do with the accident that ruined her life too.”

The moment your body unfreezes, you spring up, breathing jaggedly. Vernon and Minghao are across the room and they both spin to you at the sound. Vernon looks normal to you, but Minghao looks… not quite right, like he’s fuzzy in quality. They both looked panicked. Then you blink and they’re gone. 

You bury your face in your hands, the jagged breathing getting worse. You hear the bedroom door fly open and you jump up, brushing past Minghao in the hallway. 

“Y/N, please let me explain.”

“No,” you grate out, swiftly changing clothes. You start stuffing your things into your bag with more speed and aggression than necessary, but you can’t wait to get out of here.

“Y/N? I’ll explain everything, please just stop and give me a minute.”

In the middle of stuffing things in your bag, you glare at him over your shoulder, angry tears rolling. “Tell me, how long did you know? Was it the moment you saw me at the retreat and you just casually forgot to mention that you had a hand in ruining my life?”

“It’s not like that!” Minghao cries out. “I wanted to say something but I didn’t know how to.”

“But you didn’t say something. You let me pour my heart out that first night of the retreat without batting an eye.” You laugh humorlessly. “And now I know why! You already knew everything, didn’t you? The accident, my stupid fucking gift, how fucked in the head I’ve been for the last ten years. It’s all looking so clear now. That stupid connection wasn’t even real, was it?”

“It doesn’t matter if I knew anything. I let you come to me.” You can tell he’s building up some anger, but you have almost a decade of it built up to match. “And you know that connection was real. You felt it too. I know you did.”

“You let me come to you and you tried to fix me. Did it make you feel better?” You sneer. “Did it make you feel better to try to undo everything? Did you feel a connection or did you just feel less guilty?”

“You act like you’re the only one that was hurt in that accident. I lost Vernon in that accident. And I haven’t had a normal fucking night of sleep since then.”

“And you had every opportunity to open up about it and bond with me over that, and you didn’t. You let me feel like a freak that needed all the help in the world from you when we could have been commiserating instead.” He doesn’t have anything to say about that, a blend of anger and devastation on his face when he looks at you from across the room. You wipe your face angrily. “I should have known all of this was too good to be true. I find someone that finally brings me some peace and I should have known that there was a reason behind it.”

You hike your bag up over your shoulder and brush past him out of his bedroom. He’s tugging you back by the arm and you want to curse, and scream, and maybe even hit him. But he lets go when you stop and glare up at him. “If you want to leave, fine. But let me drive you home. It’s the middle of the night.”

You let him get dressed and you lead the way out to his car. He drives to your apartment, glancing at you every now and then, not that you give him a single side eye. The silence is deafening in the car, nothing like the usual comfortable silence, and he’s barely put it in park when you’re flying out of your seat and slamming the car door behind you. 

You feel kind of numb by the time you get into your apartment and lock the door behind you. There will be no going back to sleep tonight. You think about watching TV, but you were doing that earlier before you heard that little secret. You think about sitting outside on your balcony, but you and Minghao have done that too many times. So you go to your bathroom and run a hot bath. You stay in it until it’s ice cold and you need a warm shower to stop shaking. 

You hate this time of year, yes. But this year is the worst you’ve ever felt. 

You call out of work for the week, saying that you think you have the flu. It’s a believable story, because something like that has been going around the office. And you might as well have the flu because you stay in bed and go through boxes upon boxes of tissues. In fact, that’s what gets Junhui to come over. 

He calls one afternoon to check in and can tell by the sound of your voice that something is wrong. He’s been around for more than a decade, so he knows what you’re like this time of year. But he treads extra lightly this time, asking if you need anything. You simply say, “tissues”. 

When he gets there with your tissues amongst other things, he must realize that it’s much worse than normal and you feel bad that he’s sort of tiptoeing around you. But you’ve had a steady stream of tears for days and must look like a mess and there’s no covering it up. Jun simply gives you a hug, demands that you finish an entire glass of water in front of him, and sends you off for a shower. 

When you come out, he hands you another glass of water and a bowl of stew. It takes you forever to eat because you can’t remember the last time you had anything and you kind of forgot how all of it works. He doesn’t look offended when you don’t finish it, simply packing away the leftovers for later. 

The thing about Junhui is that he doesn’t really ask questions. He just lets you be. It’s nice, really, something that you’ve always appreciated about him. You recognize that you’re the demanding one in this friendship, the one that constantly needs the help and support. And you can’t swallow the guilt anymore that you’ve paid him back for all of that patience and support by keeping secrets. 

You’ve tried not to think about your conversation with Minghao the night you rushed out of his apartment, but you’d very quickly realized how much of a hypocrite you were for criticizing him for keeping a secret. It’s not like you’d been open to him about everything. And he was a special case compared to others. Outside of Jeonghan, no one in your life knows what you really deal with. It’s not even about getting help or understanding from Junhui now. It’s that he’s been by your side this whole, unflinchingly helping you without really knowing what he’s dealing with and that’s unfair of you. 

So you sniffle and look at him from the other end of the couch. “Junhui, I need to tell you something.”

He nods. “Okay. What is it?” He’s always had an abundance of patience and it makes your heart hurt. 

So you tell him everything. It comes out more like word vomit, totally random and absolutely not in chronological order of any sort. You tell him about your abilities, and the sleep paralysis, and meeting Minghao, and Vernon, and how they’re both apparently connected to the accident, and how they both kept that a secret from you.

When you run out of words, Jun just takes a deep breath and nods, opening his arms for you to crawl into. You and Jun aren’t the touchiest of people together, but the offer of comfort brings more tears so you lean into his side and let him wrap his arms around you. “You must think I’m crazy,” you mumble against his shirt that’s quickly becoming damp. 

“No, I don’t. I always had a feeling there was something else you were dealing with, but I didn’t want to press.” He lays his head onto of ours, both of you staring ahead at the TV. “It kind of puts all the puzzle pieces together, honestly. Sometimes, you check out and it takes a long time for you to come back. It… makes some sense now. So no, you’re not crazy.”

You sigh, burrowing deeper into his chest. He tugs the blanket up, kind of cocooning you. “Thank you, but I still don’t know what to do with any of it.”

Jun thinks for a while, before finally saying, “Maybe you don’t do anything with your abilities. At least not right now. Just let it be.” He hesitates and you kind of stop breathing for fear of what he might say. “But maybe you shouldn’t let this thing with Minghao and Vernon sit.” He must feel how you tense against him and he rubs a hand up and down your arm comfortingly. “Think of it as closure, maybe. I’m not saying fix things with Minghao and get back together if you don’t want that. But, this situation seems to weigh on all three of you. Maybe it would help all of you to just clear the air and then see where you’re at.”

You don’t say anything because you don’t know if you could approach Minghao and you don’t think he’ll approach you. Not with the way you both left things the other night. And you don’t know if you’ll see Vernon again. He was always the one to seek you out and you don’t know how to seek him out even if you wanted to. 

The rest of the night passes quietly and Junhui stays when you ask. You don’t want to be alone right now. You laugh when you realize that, because that’s all you’d ever wanted for the last ten years. 

Jeonghan calls you the morning of your next appointment and cancels. Actually, he fires you. You were silent, kind of stunned by the words, ‘I can’t treat you anymore’. 

But, to your surprise, he follows it up with a request to meet for coffee the next morning, which is a Saturday. You’re perplexed by the offer and even try to bring a little levity to it. “Jeonghan, are you asking me out?”

He had snorted into the phone. “No, Y/N. I can’t be your therapist anymore. But I can be your friend. That relationship has fewer limitations.”

You don’t know what that means, but you do your best to clean yourself up and meet him at the coffee shop. Jeonghan is already there in a corner booth when you arrive and he offers to get the coffee for both of you. When he comes back with it, he gives you the same wry smile that you would normally see in therapy. “So, I hear things have been rough lately.”

Your mind stalls out. Your appointments have been solely focused on your abilities. You don’t think you’ve even mentioned Minghao, and certainly haven’t had the opportunity to tell him about the blow up the other day. 

“How did you know that?” You whisper, fingers gripping the cardboard cup. 

He looks a little sheepish, or awkward, or uncomfortable. You aren’t quite sure. But he squirms in his seat the same way he’s called you out for thousands of times. “I have a confession to make and it will skirt around a lot of guidelines I’m supposed to follow.” You blink at him, fearing the worst. He sucks in a deep breath and then sighs. “I happen to know who you’ve been dating because he’s told me about it.”

Your brain freezes and your eyebrows pinch together because you’re totally confused. “You… know him? You treat him?”

He squirms again. “I can neither confirm or deny that, but… yes, I do know him. And I happen to know that you guys are on the outs right now.”

You lean back, arms crossed over your chest, pressing your lips together tightly. “Is that why you fired me? Because you… know both of us.” You watch your words, understanding now what he meant about skirting around guidelines. He can’t tell you if he treats Minghao.

“I fired you because I can’t help either of you without being able to admit that I know what the other side is going through. That’s actually been a difficult thing over the past few months, honestly. Not letting on to either of you. I’ve been playing dumb a lot and it’s driving me nuts.”

You don’t know what to do with this, really. You’d never considered that Jeonghan knew more about your life than what you talked about in therapy. “And what can you tell me now that you’re no longer treating me?”

He purses his lips, thinking for a minute, probably trying to filter his words to not get himself in trouble. “Naturally, anything mentioned in my office is off limits. But we can talk about what was said outside of my office. If you want to hear it, that is.”

You’re undeniably curious. Minghao might have kept secrets from you, but you wonder how direct he’d been with Jeonghan. “Did he tell you about the accident?”

Jeonghan picks at his coffee cup. “Eventually. Not that he needed to.” You give him a perplexed look. He sighs, digging into his bag and pulling out a manila folder. “I got curious after our first attempt at hypnosis when you gave a description of the other car, so I requested a copy of the police report. I was trying to validate the information you gave, but I discovered something else.”

He slides the folder to you and you don’t touch it right away, like it might burn you if you do. Jeonghan sips his coffee, waiting for you to work up the courage. When you finally do, flipping the folder open, the first page has your name at the top. And Minghao’s. And a Chwe Hansol. You wonder if that’s Vernon’s name. You’d never thought to ask, always assuming Vernon was it.

The words kind of blur for you, which frustrates you because you’d kind of hoped you were out of tears by now. But you can see the important things. No one was determined to be at fault for the accident, citing bad weather and slick roads. There was no indication that either driver was driving recklessly. It could have happened to anyone. There’s a description of the damage, with the phrase ‘images attached’, but when you go to flip the page, Jeonghan reaches out and stops you. “Maybe look at the rest later. You can take the folder.”

You close the folder slowly, placing your hands flat over top of it, kind of at a loss for words. Jeonghan gives you a long time, more than he ever has in therapy, probably because the clock isn’t ticking and your bill isn’t running up the longer you take to pull yourself together. When he gets the sense that you’re almost there, he speaks up again. 

“I’ll ask you the same thing I asked him. How are you feeling with all of this?”

“Hurt. A little naive. Guilty.”

“Guilty?” Jeonghan asks with a hint of shock. “What for?”

You rub your forehead because it’s starting to throb from all of this. “I may have reamed him out about keeping secrets when I was keeping my own.”

“And what were you keeping from him?”

You laugh humorlessly behind your hand. “It would make me sound crazy.”

“Y/N,” Jeonghan huffs. “How many times do I have to tell you I won’t think that?”

“I know, I know,” you wave off. “You find the term unethical or whatever. But it will sound crazy.” You lean back again, assuming your typical defensive position. “You know we met at the retreat?” Jeonghan nods. “Well, I had a hard time with yoga at one of the sessions. I was trying to sort through everything in my head and I must have missed when the instructor called the end of the session. Minghao touched me to check on me and everything went silent. Not a single voice except my own. It happens every time he touches me.” Jeonghan’s giving you a look that makes you have to look away. “Told you it’s crazy.”

“That’s,” Jeonghan pauses, laughing in a short burst, “actually the least crazy thing about all of this. It actually makes a lot of sense.”

You give him an incredulous look. “Jeonghan, you’re sounding crazy now. Do you have a therapist?”

He’s still chuckling to himself. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about that.” You call his name, losing patience. He shakes his head. “In psychology, there are terms such as shared trauma or collective trauma. Neither of them quite fit, but what you’re experiencing might be related. You guys bonded over this accident, whether you realized it or not. It seems like it was more of an unconscious thing. And… some strange things came out of it. Those strange things aren’t all that strange, actually. People report all the time that a guardian angel saved them in situations like that. In terms of consciousness, the accident connected you. Not just you and Minghao, but Vernon too.”

There’s so much to digest there, but you find yourself saying, “You know about Vernon?”

Jeonghan nods. “Not from you, of course. You didn’t tell me you had a regular visitor.”

You feel the overwhelm creeping up on you, so you bury your face in your hands, feeling so exasperated. “What do I do with all of this, Jeonghan?”

“You go talk to Minghao, and maybe Vernon when you’re ready to clear the air.”

The level of exhaustion that you feel when you pull your hands away from your face is massive. “I don’t know if either of them want to see me.”

“They do,” Jeonghan says simply without a hint of doubt. “But you should take your time and be ready for it. They’ll wait.” You don’t have anything to say, so Jeonghan nudges your coffee to you. “Finish your coffee. I just lost some income, don’t let me waste any of it.”

“I will throw this coffee at you.”

“Go ahead. It’s cold anyway.”

Minghao hears the ding of the bell at the shop door and glances up, before looking back down at his book without a word. He’s been doing it all morning. He’s not in the mood to work, but he can’t exactly afford not to open up the shop today. He’s frankly not in the mood for anything. 

Least of all, the fact that no one is at the door. 

It freaked him out the first couple times earlier this week because, despite his little gift when it comes to dreaming, he hadn’t experienced anything paranormal while awake before. He’d never been opposed to it or held any disbelief for it, but he’d never seen it with his own eyes in the daylight. But the bell at the door kept ringing like it was opening. Sometimes, the door would even clap shut like it had been opened an inch or two and then closed again. But sometimes the door stayed firmly shut and the bell still went off. He’d thought about disengaging it, but he was kind of afraid that he’d miss someone actually coming in. 

The bell dings again and he peers up over his book to see the shelf next to the door shaking a little. Not enough to tip over, but it made him squeeze his eyes shut. He’d been going through the soil like crazy this week, because pots had mysteriously been knocked over throughout the shop constantly. He’d had to repot at least a dozen things and sweep up the mess, only for it to happen again on the other side of the store an hour later. He’d refused to truly acknowledge both the door bell and the pots being knocked over. 

The day creeps by. A flower shop just doesn’t get as much business during the winter, outside of some poinsettias or an order of red roses or the like for a funeral. It’s not the time of year for anything brightly colored and Minghao himself has a hard time looking at some of them right now, no matter how much he loves them the rest of the year. 

He would normally close up shop a little early to go see Jeonghan today, but his calendar is clear so he stays until 6pm, cleaning up yet another fallen pot before leaving. At home, he makes dinner and goes about a quiet night. But things move then too. The salt shaker tips over in front of him and he rights it, sweeping up the grains into his palm. The microwave goes off like something is inside it, but nothing is. The faucet turns on by itself and he shuts it off at least four times while he cooks. 

His bowl of food scooting away as he tries to get a bite is kind of the final straw. He drops the chopsticks and sighs. “Vernon, stop it.” The bowl jerks again and Minghao kind of resigns himself to having to clean that up too when it crashes to the floor any minute now. 

He’d been avoiding sleeping. It was far from a healthy decision, but that was how he saw Vernon and he was avoiding him, still upset about the last conversation they had. Sleeping also meant seeing you, and he didn’t want to risk you seeing him again when you weren’t ready. He was following his rule of letting you come to him, even it was eating him alive. 

The TV turns on behind him, volume shooting to full blast. Minghao rubs his forehead. “Fine!” He yells. The volume is lowers. “I’ll go to sleep.” The TV clicks off behind him.

It’s early, but Minghao cleans up from dinner and gets ready for bed. He’s usually meticulous about his bed, making it every morning and putting fresh sheets on it every week. He should have done that yesterday, but he didn’t because the sheets still smell like you and he’s feeling particularly weak about it. So he crawls into bed in crumpled sheets, pulling the bunched blanket over himself. 

He drifts off fast and knows where he is right away. He’s outside of your room and there’s a line out of the door. You must be asleep. Vernon is at the end of the hall and watches carefully when Minghao maneuvers between people to get to him. “Busy?”

Minghao glances behind him. “Yeah, just like it always is.”

Vernon gives him a hard look. “You know, avoiding me means you’re letting her suffer, right? I can’t wake her up if you don’t tell me when it gets bad.” Minghao doesn’t know what to say as his jaw ticks. Vernon sighs. “I take it you guys aren’t talking.”

“No,” Minghao says. “You know my rule. I’m letting her come to me.”

“That’s a stupid fucking rule and it always has been, particularly after you met her in real life,” Vernon says sharply. 

“Yeah, because saying, ‘you don’t need to introduce yourself because I’ve been checking up on you every night in my dreams’ is super comforting,” Minghao bites sarcastically, tone equally sharp.

“It might have been, but we’ll never know now, will we?” Vernon’s jaw is tight. He’s been bleeding frustration since the first night Minghao stayed over at your apartment. “It’s up to you guys to fix this. I can’t do anything except watch you guys, particularly you, run from this. It will have been ten years tomorrow and I’m tired, Minghao.”

Minghao feels grief-stricken every time Vernon implies that he’s stuck. It’s been a comfort to know that he’s still right there. It occurs to him that maybe he’s been selfish, clinging onto the idea that he’s not really gone. But he’s lost on how to fix it. 

A sharp voice comes from your room and Minghao spins. Some people give him looks as he brushes past them, but he’s learned to ignore it. There’s a woman leaning over you, hands on your shoulders, shaking you. Some are so desperate to find some peace that they become demanding and threatening. Besides a pinch in your eyebrows, you’re still asleep, unaware of this. Minghao found years ago that he couldn’t do anything himself. Couldn’t touch you to wake you up, couldn’t pull the demanding person away. But Vernon could, so he turns to him.

Vernon gives him a hard look again. “If you don’t want her to see you, you should leave.” 

He follows instructions, stepping out into the hallway. He knows when Vernon’s woken you up because the hallway clears, the crowd leaving looking dejected. You can’t (or won’t) help them when you’re awake, so they’ve long given up trying. 

Minghao can hear that you’re angry when the crowd clears. He makes himself comfortable, sitting down in your hallway. “Why are you here?” You ask sharply. 

“You can be mad all you want, but I’m not going to let them drain you,” Vernon says stubbornly. 

“They’ve been draining me all week,” you snap, bed squeaking like you’re sitting up in bed. 

“I’ve been busy,” Vernon evades. 

“Vernon, I don’t want to be made a fool anymore, so please stop dancing around the topic,” you practically beg. 

Vernon is silent for a long time. “So you want to talk about it?” His words lack most of the heat from earlier.

“You’ve been visiting me for nearly a decade and you never told me why. I think we’re long overdue to talk about it.”

Your desk chair squeaks and Minghao assumes that Vernon has sat down. It feels like he’s encroaching on a private conversation, like he’s done far too many times when it comes to you in this particular situation. So he wills himself to wake up. 

When he’s back in his own body, he doesn’t think twice of gathering a blanket and going out to his balcony. It doesn’t matter that it’s snowing and freezing. He’s skipping out on sleep again, if only to give you some privacy for once. 

It’s actually very easy to find what you need.

It takes what feels like a year to shower and get dressed, mostly because you’re not ready for today. You linger under the hot water and you change your clothes a few times when you’ve never really done that before. You usually take a quick five minute shower and throw on whatever is closest. Maybe you care more about what you look like. Or maybe you’re just trying to delay the inevitable for a little while longer. 

The subway is busy. Not with the living, naturally. But there are a lot of wanderers out today. It’s obvious that’s what they are. They walk through things and don’t have coats for the blistering weather. Some of them have evidence of their death, some gruesome, some not. You spend far more time looking at them today, risking being caught. 

You get off at your stop and start walking. The gates are open when you arrive and you pull out the map. This is what was easy to find. You make your way to the spot you’ve marked, trudging through the snow.

You aren’t really surprised to see Minghao at the gravesite when you arrive. Vernon said that Minghao visits it every year, sometimes for hours on end, rain or shine, snow or sleet. Doesn’t matter. 

What does surprise you is that he’s sipping from a bottle of brown liquor that’s half gone. It takes many long moments to steel yourself before you approach. He glances up when your shadow casts over him. “Mind if I join?”

“Go ahead,” he says, taking another sip. When you’re seated, he offers you the bottle. You take it without a second thought and sip from it as well. It burns your throat and whatever face you make must be funny, because he chuckles when you hand it back. “Not much of a drinker?”

“No,” you cough a little. “I didn’t really take you to be one either, especially in broad daylight in a cemetery.”

“The groundskeeper never says anything about it. They must see a lot of that here,” Minghao says. He’s probably right. Silence takes over and it’s so much quieter than normal because of the snow. It’s almost eerie, especially when you can see others creeping around. You make a point to not come to cemeteries because, much like funeral homes, they’re busy places for someone like you. But you’re kind of surprised that there’s kind of a hush in your head here, like it would be rude for the ghosts to be loud.

Like you told Vernon last night, this conversation was long overdue. But, much like your conversation with Vernon, it was hard to figure out where to start.

Minghao must not expect you to start with, “I’m sorry”, though. His head snaps to you, eyes wide. You can’t look at him long. 

“What could you possibly be sorry for?”

You reach your hand out for the bottle again and he hands it to you. You sip and cringe at the taste before handing it back. “I may not be happy that either of you kept secrets like that, but I kept my own secret. It was hypocritical of me to lose it on you like that.”

“It couldn’t compare to the secrets we were keeping, surely,” Minghao shakes his head. 

“I don’t know.” You give him a hesitant smile, trying to soften the tension between you two. “Card on the table? For both of us?”

He doesn’t smile back, anxiety clear across his face. He swallows thickly and begins. 

He was an exchange student at the time and his host family was Vernon’s family. He and Vernon became close, separated in age by only a few months or so. One night, Minghao was driving them home and the roads were bad. He lost traction and ended up in a ditch, along with another car. Your car. He was awake but groggy, immediately checking on Vernon. Vernon was responsive and insisted he was okay, all but demanding that Minghao go check the person in the other vehicle. 

Your window had been smashed in, the door crumbled next to you. He’d reached through the broken window to shake your shoulder and see if you’d wake up, but when his hand landed on your shoulder, something happened and the lights went out for him.

He woke up in the hospital bed the next day to the bad news. But that didn’t make sense to him because not long after that conversation, they’d given him another dose of morphine and he’d drifted off to sleep again. And Vernon was right there. 

So over the months following the accident, Minghao loved to sleep. He’d sleep for more than twelve hours at time, angry about waking up when he did. Everyone let him, thinking he needed the rest, not realizing that rest had nothing to do with it. He’d drift off and end up wherever Vernon was, and that often times was with you. 

He knew it was you. Knew what you looked like from the accident. In time, Vernon put the pieces together too. Knew that you had something special about you and it was draining you. 

And then he’d met you at the retreat, totally blindsided by seeing you in real life again. Totally blindsided by the immediate connection. He had a lot of fear that it was only because of the accident and his almost nightly visits to check on you. But by the end of the retreat, he was sure that wasn’t it. At least not entirely. 

When he runs out of words, he rubs his face. “God, this sounds like a bad movie.”

You glance around the cemetery. A lot of the information isn’t a surprise because Vernon had filled in some of the gaps last night. But there’s still some shock. It makes you laugh and the feeling in your chest seems entirely inappropriate. “You could say that. I mean, I’m seeing ghosts right now. It is a bad movie.”

Minghao looks at you for the first time since starting to explain anything. His gaze is a little watery, eyes unfocused. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I should have just told you. But there was no way for me to tell you that without you running the other way. Which would have been fair. It would be fair now too.”

You chuckle again, sounding a little watery too. “You haven’t heard my secret yet.”

Minghao chuckles back, sounding a little hollow. “It can’t compare to the gravity of what I just told you, Y/N. You don’t have to try to make me feel better.”

You purse your lips, looking across the cemetery. You gesture to a particular headstone, a towering monument that surely cost an arm and a leg. “Do you see that large headstone?” He looks over and nods. “There’s a woman sitting next to it. I’m pretty sure she’s passed on.”

Minghao glances back to you, confusion all over his face. “Okay?” It’s not unkind, like he doesn’t want to hear about your gift. He just doesn’t seem to know where you’re going with this. You hold out your hand expectantly and he gives you a blank look. 

“Hold my hand for a moment, please.” Your words make the look in his eyes change, turning softer. His hand is freezing when he folds his long fingers around your hand. You can’t help that your mouth twitches up a little at the touch. You look over to the headstone again. “She’s gone.”

The confusion on his face doubles. “What do you mean?”

You readjust your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “I mean… your touch is like an off button for my little ‘gift’. My head goes quiet and I don’t see anything, at least not nearly as much as I normally would.” He’s staring at you with a a painfully vulnerable expression. “You asked what happened at that yoga session at the retreat, when you touched me. That was it. I resisted it for a while because I didn’t want to depend on it. Didn’t want it to be why I was with you.”

Minghao looks at your joined hands, almost admiring them. “And… that’s not why you were with me?”

“No, it’s not,” you say genuinely. “Was this connection in your dreams why you were with me?”

Minghao shakes his head instantly. “No. Don’t get me wrong, I had a soft spot for you because of it, but that’s not the whole story.”

After a long beat, you slide over in the snow covered grass and Minghao wraps his arms around you right away. “What now?” You ask. Cards on the table doesn’t mean you really know what to do with any of it.

He presses a kiss to your forehead with cold lips. “Let’s go home. We can figure it out later.” 

Minghao is working on an order and it’s kind of a weird one. It’s sweet, no doubt. Someone’s done their research. But normally, people will pick a single flower for a bouquet, or maybe even two or three that coordinate well. Not six that don’t coordinate in the least. This is a hodge podge of everything to do with love. Baby’s breath, camellia, carnation, honeysuckle, morning glory, and pink roses. Orders like this make him laugh because it’s really coming on strong. 

Not that he blames anyone for that. He’s been known to come on pretty strong sometimes, if only when it comes to you. 

It’s the middle of the summer now, a little over six months since fixing things with you. You both kind of agreed to forget about the week that you guys were off, calling it water under the bridge. But things had been distinctly different since fixing things on the anniversary of the accident. No secrets were allowed anymore. You’d seemed like you kind of expected him to hesitate in agreeing to that, but the only secret he’d ever wanted to keep from you was already out. Since then, things had been what you often called soul-bearing. Junhui was disgusted to be around you guys most of the time and Jeonghan even said that he regretted helping you guys fix things sometimes. He recognized that you both laid it on thick sometimes, but it really, genuinely couldn’t be helped even if either of you wanted to. 

Motion at the propped open shop door makes him look up and smile. “Good afternoon,” he says lightly. 

“Good afternoon,” you greet, smiling and looking around the shop like it’s the first time you’ve been here. You do this from time to time and he thinks it’s cute so he’s helpless to stop it. 

“Can I help you find anything?” He plays along, biting back his smile.

“I’m actually here to pick up an order,” you say, approaching the counter to lean on it, propping your head up on your fist. 

“Oh?” Minghao continues to stuff flowers into place. “What’s the name for it?”

“Boo Seungkwan,” you say, sly smile spreading across your face. 

Minghao stops, picking up the order form he’s working on right now, then raising an eyebrow at you. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“That depends. Is my order ready yet?” You ask cutely, glancing at the bouquet in his hands. He gives you a look, wrapping it up in paper and laying it on the counter, and picking up the order form. 

“May I ask who this is for?” Minghao asks, leaning on the counter too, face level with yours. 

Your smile is light. Lighter than he thinks it ever has been. “I’ve been seeing this guy. He’s pretty great and I’m very much in love.” Your eyes bounce down to the bouquet. “If you couldn’t tell.”

Minghao thinks you may never stop making his heart race stupidly. “Someone’s been doing their research. I thought I noticed a book missing from my shelf at home.”

You’re smiling though you start to flush, some of your boldness waning. “Guilty. They’re for you. I just wanted to be sneaky about it.” You stand up straight, reaching for your purse. 

Minghao reaches out to stop you, grabbing your hand. “Be sneaky all you want. I’m not going to charge you for this one.” He presses a kiss to your hand before letting go. He picks up the bouquet, admiring it. Unlikely as it is, it’s pretty. “I’ll admit, it works in a weird way.”

You shrug at him. “It was less about it working and more about sending a message.” 

Minghao puts the flowers down, walking around the counter. His arms wrap around your waist like second nature now as he leans down to press repeated kisses to you - your lips, your cheeks, your eyelids, doesn’t matter. You chuckle, hands flat against his chest. “Message received,” he says simply, pulling away.

“Any plans tonight?” You ask, looking up at him in a way that makes him putty. 

“No, I’ll just be wherever you are. If that’s okay,” he tacks on.

You press a kiss to his cheek. “More than okay.” Your phone rings in your bag and you groan. He laughs, letting you go. You’ve taken a new position at work and it means you get a lot more phone calls nowadays. “I guess I better go before someone comes looking for me. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Of course,” he says kissing you one more time before you go. 

The afternoon is busy, but he finds some time to put together his own bouquet. It’s equally weird and shouldn’t work. But like you said, it’s more about sending a message than anything. He leaves with that bouquet when he locks up. He hopes that you’ll get the message, just like he got yours. 

Bonus: I couldn't fit this in the banner but I laughed until I cried when I came across this.

[this-is-moony-lovegood]

In L.A., they’d call it a sin (but I’m weaning Philadelphia green for him)

Explicit | 8.1k | NFL Coaches!Buddie, Part 3

He’s too busy staring at himself in the mirror, admiring the jersey, so he doesn’t know Buck’s made it home until he hears him speak up behind him asking, “Where did you get that?”

When Eddie turns around, he can see Buck’s jaw slightly ajar as he blinks rapidly, taking in the scene in front of him. “I made a few calls.” Eddie shrugs casually as Buck quickly approaches, and wastes no time running his hands over the fabric, taking in his surprise. Eddie can feel his body heat through the breathable fabric and leans into the touch easily.

“A few calls, huh?” Buck asks with a smirk, “Who did you call?”

“Well, I have Andry Reid’s phone number. So, I called him first, and he gave me Jason Kelce’s phone number.”

“You called Jason?” Buck nearly jumps in response. Eddie knows that Buck and Jason used to be friends back in Philadelphia. When he recalls his time there, Jason is always mentioned in one of his stories. At the time Buck was there, Jason had already been in the league for four to five seasons and was a veteran leader on the team. He’d quickly taken a jittery, excited Buck under his wing as mentor. From what Eddie can tell, their relationship is/was similar to Buck and Chimney’s, and sometimes he can sense that Buck misses having him around. “Fuck, I haven’t talked to him in years. Not since the last time we played in Philly.”

“I figured that there aren’t many people that know Philidelphia better than Kelce, so if anyone could track one of these down it was him. When I told him it was for you, he was thrilled. You might not have seen him in a while, but he clearly loves you because he dropped just about everything to help me.” He tells Buck and watches as his boyfriend’s lips turn up into a bashful smile.

“Damn, I really ought to call him.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck as a light blush colors his cheeks.

“Oh, you should, because he and one of the Eagles equipment managers spent hours digging through a shit ton of old boxes in the storage room at Lincoln Financial until they came across this.”

“Hold on a minute.” Buck says, taking a step back, eyes wide and wild. “When you said Jason found this I thought maybe he went to some old NFL memorabilia places in Philly. You’re telling me Jason got this from the stadium?”

“Yep.” Eddie tells him, and he can’t help but bite down on his bottom lip in anticipation as Buck slowly starts putting together the full extent of his surprise.

“That means… this is not just any old jersey with my name and number on it… it’s my jersey.”

“Uh uh.”

Eddie clocks the exact moment that Buck’s pupils blow wide, watching the black overwhelm the ocean blue in seconds.

Read the rest on ao3, and catch up on the rest of the series here:

[morsmortish]

hi beth 🔥 you mentioned dorcas and emma yesterday... i NEED to know more. the wlw world is still a unknown subject for me, so drop some lesbians 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

hello irene my love!!!! i love love love dorcas and emma individually, and i have SUCH a vision for them together. to me, they’re those two best friends who are almost toxicly dependent. they’re in the same year, same slytherin dorm, and quite a bit older than barty and reg and even maybe the marauders. to me, they are THE homoerotic wlw friendship for the ages.

i have said it before, but i see them having a rlly intense friendship. it’s also not super healthy- they’re both extremely competitive and equally proud and stubborn, and so there’s many instances of forced fake smiles, high levels of passive aggression, and even that over-the-top sickly sweetness. both of them find it hard to form many other connections, and so they find themselves both trapped in this extremely toxic friendship where they’re turning every single thing into a silent competition: emma is cruelly condescending when she is chosen as quidditch captain over dorcas; whilst dorcas not-so-subtly rubs it in when she gets more OWLs; they both simper at each other and shoot barbed but veiled insults every minute of every day. and yet, they also care more about the other than anything else. emma would kill anyone for slagging off dorcas, and dorcas would kill HERSELF before letting anyone try to get between them. they’re simultaneously each other’s worst enemy and each other’s best friend.

everyone else is a bit scared of them, and they really truly have no one else: this is both by choice and by everyone else being extremely intimidated by them. plus, their ‘friendship’ has always been laced with something else, something more, and in the absence of external company, it ramps up in intensity until they are making out to relieve the tensions between them. or they are competing for the best potions grade, with the winner getting a very specific ‘reward’. or they are finding ways to let out all the pent-up frustration they bear towards each other. they would never ever go as far as to describe themselves as dating, or in any sort of romantic relationship, and yet they have never quite been ‘just friends’. the ultimate situationship.

they’re like two ends of a tug-of-war rope, their ‘friendship’ frozen in the middle. dorcas is hot-headed and angry, whilst emma is calculated and coldly cruel. fire and ice. they’re both outcasts from pureblood society: dorcas as a muggle-born, and emma as a part of a disgraced lineage. they’re both poc women trying to stay afloat in the1970s. they also both always want to be the best at everything. they’re both ambitious and proud and selfish. in a way, they balance each other out, but also bring out the worst in each other. yet they both find solace in being able to be this ‘worst version’ of themselves- the pretence of fake smiles and forced kindness holds no value, and they both know the truth behind it all. it’s not the same as pretending to be a good person, as they are both entirely aware that neither of them are. they are just as bad for each other as they are good. they give each other the freedom to be terrible, and in a twisted way make each other better.

[springsketches]

He’s very tired, TLQ has more decisions to make… Oh hey, the pristine cut comes out tomorrow! Have a last minute picture I did! This was surprisingly difficult ha ha ha, I don’t know how many times I’m gonna draw the shifting mound again... Congratulations Abby and Tony for their time and efforts! I look forward to playin it tomorrow!

It’s exciting!! I’ve been waiting a while for this one! I hope people have been as excited as I’ve been! Maybe sometime I’ll create a more detailed/flushed out drawing, but for now I’m happy with this drawing given the short amount of time I gave myself.

Being loosely a part of this fandom has definitely helped me in my art journey and inspired me to become a better creator.

Also, if I may be a little self-indulgent, I’m gonna show my oc clapping for them! She’s excited too

[bleue-flora]

That's an interesting opinion! There could be more than one reasons for creating the prison and your idea sounds like a pretty justifiable one. And though reasons for building the prison have been given by cc's I don't think your reason is too far removed from theirs to disregard it completely?

[context]

Thanks, I appreciate you saying that. I fear I was pissing people off a bit, and that was not my intention. I wasn’t meaning to disagree only add too, go a bit further if you will... Some times I wonder, am I the only one who does things with 4 agendas, not to mention a subconscious one I’m not even aware of? Like I don’t know, to say I do anything for only one reason just isn’t true at all but maybe I’m the only who does that? Cuz like for example, I went to college to get a degree. A degree so I can get a well paying job that will also be able to make enough money to pay off the loans it costs to get. I also want to be able to make enough money to support myself and a family, buy a house and travel one day. I also felt like I needed a nice cushiony job so I can have vacation and time off and days I can take off when my mental health is bad. I also wanted to get a degree that isn’t a waste of my time or intellect. I wanted to make a difference and a lasting impact on the world and that’s why I chose civil engineering. I am also good at math, love knowing the why and problem solving that goes along with engineering mentality and my dad is a civil engineer so I figured it fit. But I also wanted to get a degree to make people proud, and because I worked hard in high school so I might as well make it worth it… so I can say I got an engineering degree to make money. But that doesn’t quite cover it, does it? There are so many other layers into it, so to say oh Quackity just tortured Dream to get the book or Dream just made the prison in fear of an unkillable evil seems way over simplified. Not to say those aren't main reasons, but just as we know Quackity had other connecting reasons and agendas in torturing Dream, it doesn’t seem to me to be that far fetched to say Dream has multiple reasons for the prison too… but hey what do I know, I’m just sharing my random thoughts. :)

[oysters-aint-for-me]

i feel like my mental/behavioral health has gotten to the point where i don’t just need therapy, i need treatment. ykwim

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[cetoddle-archive]

therapy was interesting she kinda just out of nowhere asks if i like writing and i was hesitantly like….yes……and she got all excited she was like you should really pursue that. i think that’d be great for you. and i was like thank you but why are you saying this. i don’t remember exactly what she said cause i think i blacked out a little but basically said im very well spoken and deliberate with my word choice and she said she’d have been very surprised if i said i don’t write at all

[theflannelwizard]

My dad has this theory about “project-based friends” that I’ve been thinking about lately. A project-based friend is someone you meet through fandom/hobbies, and they’re usually really easy to get super close to while you’re both invested in the project, be it an actual project or the same fandom/fixation or whatever else.

But as soon as one or both of you moves on from the project, you fall out of touch. Because the project-based friend doesn’t really care about you as a person as much as they care about what you bring to the project. Or even if they do care about you, they just don’t know how to keep a friendship up when you don’t have a project together.

This isn’t necessarily a selfish thing, it’s just… the friendship isn’t personal. A project-based friend will have fun with you while it lasts and then either move on entirely or stay kinda half in your life, never really reaching out or holding real conversations. And I think a big part of my problem is that I’ve been expecting project-based friends to stick around for me when really we just liked the same work of fiction for a while. I keep thinking I’ve made a new best friend and then they get into some media I don’t like and the whole friendship kinda disappears.

[moonfurthetemmie]

I hope one day I have the will to practice drawing and git gud so I can make some evil little bastards kiss after trying to beat the shit out of each other. Because there’s only so much you can do with words

…especially when you have not ever kissed anyone and all your knowledge comes from bad fics written by other people who have (likely) never kissed anyone

[preserve-or-raze]

my tags got out of hand

i keep thinking about hobbies and how i often spill over myself to pick up new ones. i have adhd, i end up trying something for like a month and then just getting far enough in it that i move on, satisfied.

and that should be fine; but it's never fine.

i am a pretty decent artist; but i can't just make art for my dnd campaign, i should be selling dnd maps and character designs and scene setting pieces. i can't just make my friends matching earrings, i need to get an etsy and ship them internationally and take bulk orders. i make pretty good props and decorations and use them to throw my friends parties - but i should be running a party planning business and start taking paying clients and networking and putting my skills to actual use.

for some reason, i never figured out the specifics of pottery. it was a fun class and i enjoyed myself - and still, i'm embarrassed, years later, that i put in all that useless effort. everything i make has to be stunning. stellar. i should have applied myself more. maybe i'm too lazy. maybe i'm broken and selfish and needy. actually creative people would have kept going; they would be bettering themselves at every possible opportunity.

we find ourselves in this trap, even accidentally: we need to commodify our time, because it is a commodity. if we spend our efforts and our time not earning, isn't that the same thing as burning free money? and god forbid you ever take up a hobby that ends up being more expensive than you thought. you sit in your car and you look at the receipt and in your head you hear a conversation that isn't even happening - your mom or your friend or your partner all saying oh great. not this shit again. it's always something with you, and it never actually means anything.

i have realized this horrible thing, recently - i'll get excited to start a project, pick up a new hobby. and then i just... stop myself. i start thinking about the amount of time it will take, and how it'll look in my monthly budget. what if i can't even produce a good enough final product. sure, it's exciting to think about how i could make my friend her own custom dice. but i'm just polluting the earth if i don't get it right. better not bother. better not try.

restless, i get caught in the negative space. the feeling that oh god, i want to create. and that horrible sense - yeah, but i don't have the time to just put to waste.

[capyclub]

sometimes it’s more stressful for things to be on the verge of working out than it is for them to not be working out at all