#officially got my Going Through It license

[the-silver-sparrow]

Reposting old Twitter art: Part 2

Date these were created: May 16th, 2024

During a particular day where I wasn't feeling All Too Great, and given unrelated current irl events, I suppose it's fitting to have chosen these

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Love how I never get to be happy for very long lmao 🙃

[pathologicalreid]

Hello, love your writing, can i request a oneshot for spencer Reid x wife!reader with the plot of the movie taken where she goes on a business trip or something and she gets taken and the team have to work against the clock to get her back. Had this idea for so long and thought you would be perfect to write it. Perfectly fine if you dont but im craving this story.

leave a message after the beep | S.R.

When you go missing under suspicious circumstances on a business trip, the BAU goes to Texas - and ends up in the middle of something bigger than anticipated.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, blood, guns, reader almost kills someone, hospitals, the securities and exchange commission, typical cm violence, texas, takes place maybe circa season 7 word count: 4.03k a/n: okay anon so like yes i can write this but also i've never seen the movie taken so really i took your request and made it my own! i hope you like it either way!

Tuesday, 2:17 p.m.

“Hey, Spence, it’s me. Shame I got your voicemail, but I just landed at Dallas Fort Worth and I’m waiting for my ride to take me to meet the regional officers. Not sure if you’re traveling, but uh, call me when you get this, I guess. Or when you can. Hopefully, this trip goes better than I think it’s going to… oh, I think my ride is here.”

Tuesday, 6:42 p.m.

“Hey babe, so, the first meeting went fine, they don’t seem very receptive, but people generally aren’t when I’m sent in to change their methods. Wish you’d pick up your phone. Anyway, I’m on my way to the hotel now, I’ll probably try you again before I go to bed. I know my updates are probably riveting.”

Tuesday, 8:09 p.m.

“Well, I’ve definitely stayed in nicer hotels than this one, but I guess I can’t complain about being put up for free. I’m probably just biased because the a/c unit is busted – oh, my room number is 316, I know you like to have it. I opened the windows to let air in but it’s so dry here that I’m not sure it’s helping any. I’ll shut them before I go to sleep, so don’t worry about that. Call me back, I miss you, don’t worry about waking me up. I think that’s all I’ve got, goodnight, I love you!”

There was a collective sigh in the roundtable room, five agents around the room all looked nervously at each other. No one wanted to be the first person to speak. No one wanted to be the first to propose a theory. “Where’s Spencer?” Emily asked, looking through the voicemail transcripts that were splayed out in front of her.

“In Hotch’s office, they’re talking,” Rossi said, eyeing the photo of you that was being projected up on the screen. Most of the time, Penelope just used driver’s license or passport photos in files, but for you, she had chosen a photo from the last BAU O’Keefe’s outing. Your skin was flushed and there was an odd shadow being cast on your face, but your smile was unmistakable.

The official files would have your driver’s license photo, but that picture was for the BAU. Seemingly unable to peel her eyes off of the screen, JJ asked the question that everyone was sitting on, “We’re on this case, right?”

It felt ridiculous, one of their own had gone missing in the middle of the night and they weren’t even sure if they had the jurisdiction to look into it. When no one answered, Morgan looked around the room, “The brass isn’t seriously going to try to tell us not to investigate.”

“No, they’re not,” Hotch said, suit jacket unbuttoned and fluttering behind him as he walked into the roundtable room with purpose. “We’ll debrief more on the plane, JJ and Garcia will stay here, the rest of us are headed to Dallas,” he instructed, nodding at everyone before turning around and walking out the door, the rest of the team following like ducks in a row.

On the jet, the traveling members of the team watched as Rossi held a cup of coffee out for Spencer to take, but the team's youngest member took a moment to even recognize that it was there, “Oh,” he mumbled, “thank you.” Blinking a haze from his eyes, he took the cup in his shaky hands.

A familiar concern flowed among Spencer’s teammates, they all watched as he twisted his wedding ring around his finger – a nervous habit that usually presented itself when he missed you. “Y/N’s boss is en route to Quantico to talk with JJ, the flight’s about three hours, we should get started,” Hotch was the one to speak up, herding the sheep in the correct direction while everything felt aimless.

With his legs tucked beneath himself, Spencer watched the team as they bounced back and forth in a discussion on what you were doing in Dallas and Penelope scoured through your recent communication.

“According to the voicemails and the hotel records, her room was on the third floor,” Emily spoke up, flipping through the file in front of her. “Do we have crime scene photos from the hotel room yet?”

On the video screen, Penelope shook her head, “CSI is still processing the scene, I have an inquiry in with them to send the photos as soon as they can.”

Checking his watch, Hotch looked over at Spencer, still sequestered on one side of the jet, “Make sure they keep the scene undisturbed for when we arrive. Dave and Morgan will meet with the sheriff at the hotel, and the rest of us will head to the precinct to set up.”

If Spencer wanted to be the one to investigate the crime scene, he didn’t protest his assignment, he just continued to spin that gold band on his finger. He didn’t notice the glances exchanged between the rest of his team; he could only think of you.

With the involvement of the BAU, the team had been redirected to the Dallas Field Office. “There was a hole torn in the window screen, the crime scene techs think that’s how they got inside,” Morgan announced to the team, they were all gathering in the conference room.

“On the third floor?” JJ questioned over video chat, she and Penelope sat right next to each other on the screen.

Rossi nodded, “We must be looking at a team. At least two, likely three UnSub’s in order to pull something like this off. They cut the camera feed and broke into the hotel room where she was staying – this was premeditated.”

It wasn’t difficult to deduce that being taken from the third floor of a hotel meant that you had been a target, but the evidence of a break-in settled like a boulder on Spencer’s chest. Someone had intended to take you. Someone had intended on grabbing you from your hotel room in the middle of the night – and they had succeeded.

“Is there any chance she forgot to close the windows when she went to sleep last night?” Emily looked over at Spencer, dark brows raised quizzically as she leaned over the table, skimming through the voicemail transcripts again.

Clenching his jaw, Spencer shook his head, recalling your promise to close the windows before the end of the night. “No, she’d never forget. She knows I worry,” although, after this, you’d never be able to chide him for worrying too much ever again. Sharing a knowing look with the brunette before him, “So, she’s been missing since last night, not this morning.”

The initial assumption had been that you’d disappeared at some point early in the morning, maybe on your way to your first meeting of the day, no one was entirely sure, but this confirmed that you had been missing for at least eight hours more than the first estimate.

A knock on the door garnered the attention of the team, each of them turning to see a field agent, “Uh, Ezra Buchmann is here to speak with you, he said he got a call from your tech girl.”

Hotch nodded succinctly, “That’s the co-worker who reported the case. Morgan, go see if he needs anything. Dave, let’s go check out the office building that Y/N had been working at.”

“Do you think she might’ve been caught up in something at work?” Spencer asked, following his team members with his eyes as they left the conference room.

The unit chief didn’t provide a forward answer, “I’d like to start checking off some possibilities. It’s been fourteen hours with no firm leads.” It wasn’t as optimistic as anyone had hoped, but Hotch shared a look with Emily before leaving the room.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Spencer turned to the evidence board, looking at the pictures of your hotel room, the water splashed around the rim of the bathroom sink, your phone charging on the bedside table, your wedding ring resting on the counter, and if he separated himself from the missing posters, he could almost convince himself that they were just random pictures. Almost.

Frowning at the blown-up images of partial fingerprints and a random CCTV shot from across the street, he recalled your voicemails. “I wasn’t busy,” he confessed to Emily. “When she called me, I wasn’t busy. I was doing other things, but I wasn’t too busy to answer the phone. I assumed that I’d have the chance to talk to her today,” he said, slightly leaning over the oak table, resting his fingerprints on the varnished surface in an attempt to keep himself standing.

Pursing her lips, Emily took a member for responding, “That’s not an outrageous assumption to make,” she tried to reason with a miserable man. “You’d never think something like this would happen.”

“Until it does,” Spencer continued. “We see it happen to people all the time, we’ve made a life of it, but I never thought it would happen to me. To her,” he maundered. If he had a dollar for every time he had heard the same sentiment from victim’s families, he’d never have to work another day in his life. “I did call her back when I got home last night,” he added, though, he wasn’t entirely sure who he was trying to reassure.

In an effort to comfort him, Emily reached out and patted his arm, “We will find her, Spencer.”

Dead or alive? He wanted to retort, but he bit his tongue, holding it in.

As a favor to him, in the hopes of providing him with some emotional respite, Emily had haggled with the field agent whose name was last on the chain of custody of your belongings. It wasn’t entirely proper for evidence to be released to family, but she offered to put her name on it in the interim.

She stayed with Spencer in the conference room, letting him keep your things nearby as she spoke with JJ and went through the information that had been acquired back at Quantico. The team now had your performance reviews at work and, according to JJ, your boss couldn’t say enough good things about you. While it was nice to hear, it didn’t bring them any closer to finding where you were.

Tracing the woodgrain of the table with his fingertips, Spencer eventually tuned the phone call out, instead wondering at what point he was obligated to call your parents. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice your phone was ringing in the evidence bag before him until Prentiss tapped him on the shoulder.

It was an unknown number, but that was a barrier easily blocked by Garcia with a quick search. The rest of the team watched as she blanched on the screen, “Uh, you might want to answer that.”

“Garcia, who is it?” Hotch asked, a hardened look on his face as he looked from the screen to the buzzing cellphone.

JJ frowned at Penelope’s monitor as if she couldn’t believe what she was reading, “It’s the SEC,” she responded.

Swiftly, Hotch answered the phone call, turning on speakerphone so the rest of the team could hear, “Hello.”

“Hello, may I speak with Mrs. Reid?” A male voice came through the receiver, everyone sharing the same wary look.

Focused on the phone call, Hotch shook his head, “This is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, you can speak with me.” He said, elaborating on the situation and rendering the SEC investigator speechless.

Unable to listen to the conversation any longer, Spencer got up, minding his movements as he walked out of the conference room. He checked the map of the building that was posted on the wall before walking up the stairs, making his way up to the roof of the building.

The dry heat of Dallas was about as miserable as everyone made it out to be, but it was hard to ignore the way it reminded him of home. Maybe he could call his mom – speaking with her usually brought him some semblance of peace. Though, she might have a negative reaction to the situation he found himself in. On the hot rubber roofing, he kicked around piles of dirt before leaning against the ledge of the building, craning his head back and closing his eyes when he heard the rooftop door open.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood for any sort of discussion right now,” he complained, neglecting to spare a glance at whoever was disturbing his quiet – not exactly an Eden, but quiet.

He recognized Emily by the sound her boots made, even on the rubber that had been softened by the relentless sun, “I’d be more surprised if you were in the mood to talk.”

Impulsively, he rolled his eyes, “Did Hotch put you in charge of me?” He was glad his eyes were still shut, that way he couldn’t see the look on Emily’s face when he sniped at her.

“No,” she responded, gathering his attention as he brought his head down, squinting in the sunlight. “I thought you might want to know what just happened,” she nearly challenged, dark hair gleaming in the daylight.

Mentally kicking himself, he nodded for a moment, “You’re right, I just… I’m sorry.”

Taking a moment, Prentiss walked over, standing next to him, “I know.” She sighed, turning around and taking inventory of the surrounding buildings, “She was sent out here to look at some shady dealings of the company – insider trading, that kind of stuff. The main branch has an investigation open with the SEC, and they have been for the last few months. She was supposed to meet with that Ezra guy this morning to try and work something out. Hotch is talking to the CEO right now, he’s claiming he couldn’t tell JJ because it’s need-to-know,” Emily explained, focusing her eyes on the highway in the distance. “The SEC has an office in Fort Worth, they’re sending some people, and they faxed over all of the files.”

Setting his jaw, Spencer was the first to move to the stairs, the air conditioning providing an instant relief as he strode down the steps with Emily trailing close behind.

A field agent was standing in the middle of the office, stirring a cup of coffee, “Would someone really kidnap a woman over an SEC investigation?”

“We’ve seen much worse for much less,” Spencer mentioned in passing, swerving through the office of people until he made it back to the conference room. “Why would Y/N’s boss send her to investigate something that had already been brought to the SEC?” He posed the question to the rest of the team, taking one of the files that Morgan handed him and reading through the pages.

Rossi shrugged, nodding his head in the direction of the evidence board, “He wanted it handled quietly,” he posited. “Maybe he thought she could negotiate a solution and they could call off the securities investigation.”

Understanding where Spencer was going with his question, Hotch watched the board as if it was all coming together, “But, Y/N had no idea there was an open investigation. This was just another assignment to her.”

You had basically said as much in your voicemails, you went in, and you cleaned up fires across the country, and now you were caught in a blaze. “It was a setup,” Spencer concluded.

“And I know just who you need to talk to,” Garcia said over the phone, typing on her keyboard, “Check your phones.”

Ezra’s assistant folded immediately under the threat of being charged with interfering with a federal investigation. She had no knowledge of what her boss was up to, but she did know where the BAU could find him.

On the edge of the city, your company held an old office building that was slated for demolition. With the information from the assistant and some actions of questionable legality from Garcia, the team was able to nail down Ezra’s location and, hopefully, yours.

Letting SWAT lead the way, Spencer, Emily, and Morgan all made their way up yet another flight of stairs, hoping to be able to find you on the third floor. The SWAT commander signaled with his fingers to direct everyone in their respective directions.

There was a clang from across the floor and everyone froze in place, “Fuck you!” Your voice rang out, reverberating through the mostly empty office space. The yelp that followed would have sent Spencer clambering in your direction if it weren’t for Morgan grabbing his arm in warning. “I didn’t know,” you spoke again, your tone less obstinate as the misery you felt crept in.

Drawing their weapons, the team clung to the wall as SWAT gave orders over comms until the team came into view, lifting their firearms.

In retaliation, Ezra pulled you up, keeping a deadly tight grip on your upper arm as he kept you compliant by pressing the barrel of his gun to your temple. “She told me you’d come,” he said, nearly seething with rage like a rabid animal.

It seemed like a ridiculous moment to feel relief, but the fact that you knew the BAU would come for you ever so slightly lightened the weight on Spencer’s shoulders. However, whatever relief he felt was quickly banished from existence when his eyes met yours, you were covered in blood. It leaked in a steady stream from your nose and down your sleep shirt, he hoped that was the extent of the damage that had been done but based on the evidence of a struggle in the hotel room, he doubted it.

“Y/N, don’t look at him, look at us, look at Spencer,” Emily reasoned, noting the way you looked over at your captor, eyeing the gun in his hand.

You didn’t look scared, not to Spencer, though Emily had reasonably assumed that you would be in this situation. “Y/N, don’t,” Spencer said in a warning.

But his warning came too late, you had already swung your bound hands up, grabbing the weapon from Ezra as you kicked his legs out from under him. If Spencer hadn’t been so worried, he would’ve been impressed, but now he found himself in an entirely different situation.

“The safety’s still on,” you chastised as your now shaking hands undid the small latch, settling your pointer finger on the trigger as you stared him down.

SWAT seemed entirely dumbfounded, not sure how to go about the admittedly unique situation, so, it fell upon your husband to talk you down. Slowly, he holstered his weapon and stepped toward you, “Baby, put the gun down.”

You sucked in a harsh breath, “He set me up, Spence”

“I know, darling, I know,” Spencer said breathlessly, holding his hands out to stop any and all movement in the warehouse. “This isn’t the answer though, okay? You know this isn’t the answer.”

Your hands didn’t stop shaking, still bound together by the flex cuffs on your wrists as you narrowed your eyes at Ezra. “He set me up,” your voice broke at the sheer memory of the betrayal.

Distantly, you heard Derek tell people to lower their weapons, convincing the field agents that you weren’t a threat. “This isn’t you,” Spencer insisted.

Blinking as tears fell from your eyes, you gripped the handle of the gun, leaving your pointer finger hovering precariously on the trigger. This isn��t you. This isn’t the answer. This isn’t you. This isn’t the answer.

Swallowing thickly, you looked down at Ezra, who was taunting you, trying to get you to pull the trigger. You fought against yourself, trying not to stare at Spencer because you knew as soon as you met his brown eyes, the choice would be made for you.

“Pull the damn trigger,” Ezra jeered, baring his teeth at you. This was it; this was the end. The FBI had the whole building surrounded. Even if he tried to run, the BAU would follow him, they’d chase him down, and they’d kill him themselves if it came down to it.

Slowly, you moved your thumb, re-engaging the safety before you lowered your arms, handing the gun off to Spencer. As he grabbed the barrel of the gun with one hand, he pulled you in with the other, passing the gun off to Emily so he could hug you tightly.

He pulled away for a moment, retrieving a pocketknife and using it to cut the flex cuffs from your wrists, letting the stiff plastic fall to the ground, and catching you when you practically threw your arms around him.

Your legs gave out from under you, and Spencer wondered how long you had been in this sweltering building without water, likely having used the last of your strength to stop Ezra. “Shh,” he hushed gently, “Let’s sit down,” he spoke to only you as he guided you to the ground.

Closer to you now, he saw more of the damage that had been done, the glazed look over your eyes, your chapped lips, and a bruise on the side of your head. “I knew you’d come,” you murmured dazedly, swaying ever so slightly, “I told him you’d come.”

“I know, I know,” Spencer reassured you, listening to the buzzing of people, hopefully EMTs, around you.

A hiccupping sob almost broke his heart, but he just kept his hold on you, keeping you upright and wishing your nosebleed would clot. “I almost killed him,” you mumbled.

But you didn’t, he wanted to respond. Part of him felt like it would’ve been fine if you had. You’d have gotten away with it, even, but he knew firsthand what it felt like to take another life. He wanted to believe that he had played a part in you turning the safety back on, but even he wasn’t sure.

“How are you feeling? Better?” Spencer asked, sitting on the edge of your hospital bed and taking your hand in his.

He squeezed your hand gently, allowing you to admire the way your wedding ring looked now that it had been returned to its rightful home. “Much,” you assured him, keeping your head resting on the mountain of pillows behind you. You had been cleaned up, stitches on your forehead, and a bandaged cut on your thigh, but the main concern was your dehydration. An IV delivered fluids to you while you sipped on a cup of water, waiting for your stomach to settle enough for you to eat something.

Spencer raised his eyebrows, reaching out and sweeping a strand of hair behind your ear, “Good enough to try something for dinner?”

You nodded apprehensively, “Something light?”

The smile that sprouted on his face was enough to convince you to eat. He offered to go talk to your nurse, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before he left the room, leaving the door open so you could see him in the hallway.

A small chime got your attention, looking around for the source of the noise, you found yourself digging through Spencer’s bag, retrieving your cell phone from the leather satchel.

There was a scratch over the screen, but it still worked just fine following your skirmish in the hotel, you opened the phone to find that you had a voicemail. You tapped the message before bringing the phone to your ear.

Tuesday, 10:23 p.m.

“Hey love, I’m just leaving the office now. I’m sure they’ll be more receptive to you as you talk more, you can be very convincing. The weather is very dry in Texas, make sure you keep hydrated, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t answer any of your calls, we’ve been trying to prepare all of this paperwork for Strauss and time just got away from us. I miss you, maybe when you get home, we could talk about taking a trip. We could go see my mom. It’s been a while. Hm… I have to admit, I’m a little bummed you didn’t answer the phone, but I’m glad you’re getting sleep. I love you so much, sleep well.”

[cacophony-eg]

Okay so saw the trailer for Season 5 of LMK and the discord that is happening. So I did a little research and here’s some information all LMK fans should be aware of. (EDIT: new information has come forth)

Link (One of the people who worked on Monkie Kid at FlyingBark has now made a statement, I’ve rebloged the tweet for anyone who may not have access to twitter)

Looks like it’s official that Flying Bark will no longer be working on LMK.

https://issuu.com/brunico-issuu/docs/kidscreen_febmar23_lowres/s/18007818 (<- Link to article)

It looks like LEGO has given WildBrain studios the license to LMK for the next 2 seasons plus a Special.

(It has been shown to me, that I have mis interpreted the information in the Kidscreen article and I apologize for that. I was trying to find some string of answers and jumped onto the first thread of evidence I could find.

What does remain true is WildBrains credentials and to please not point your annoyance, frustration, and disappointment onto either of the animation studios, or their staff, if your goal is for better animation your best corse of action is still to push LEGO company about it)

Now first off I want to say that The Vancouver studio they are talking about is pretty good, they used to be DHX and the part of DHX that did My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, along with Carmen Sandiego, so they do know how to animate 2D pretty well but it’s all rigged 2D either done through Flash or Harmony, so doubtful we will get the kind of battle animation we got from Barks studios.

PLEASE don’t stop supporting or watching LMK that’s not going to help, it’s probably already set in stone that WildBrain will have LMK for the at least the next 2 seasons plus special, also don’t attack WildBrain that’s like complaining to a cashier about how a store is run don’t do that. Also don’t go after the show runners(ie: writers); they are the cashier supervisors; When it comes to massive properties like LEGO, they have no control over who the company hires to be cashiers.

If you're going to complain to anyone, complain to LEGO company, (the part that has control over shows, not the one that has control over lego sets). Now don’t say things like “if you keep this studio I’m gonna stop watching Monkie Kid and buying your merch” don’t do this it will only cause LEGO to drop the show, if a show doesn’t have the view numbers or the merch numbers, they’ll drop the show regardless of the praise or complains about said show.

Question Lego about their choices, request Lego for animation the same quality as the previous season, question lego how to get flybark’s animation back.(new info has come in, please read link to twitter statement or the reblog of the twitter statement)

Please reblog this, or screen shot and repost what I am saying; this is the one case where I give permission. I know a lot of fans are spinning (Me included) right now and I don’t want anyone to take out their annoyance, frustration and disappointment on the wrong people.

[saintyveningstar]

One thing right

"I-I just thought, you know. Eddie" He holds both his hands out parallel, then moves them to the side, "Edward."

Eddie just chuckles this time, staring Steve in the eyes. "No, sweetness. It's not Edward."

"So if not Edward, what—? No, don't tell me it's just Eddie—"

Eddie looks almost offended at the statement, but he still smiles all the while, "Oh, no, of course not. If my parents got one thing right, it was my name."

OR:

In which Steve Harrington finds out that Eddie's name is not Edward, and more shocking facts about him follow.

Eddie looks at him with sweet smugness, head resting on his fist as he looks down at Steve, who's laying flat next to him. His other tattooed hand rakes up and down Steve's chest, and he has something devilish in his eyes. 

"You look so nervous, baby." He says, smiling wider, dimples deeper. Eddie huffs in amusement, "Surely little ol' me isn't scarin' a big boy like you."

"Eddie—" Steve's breathing is near ragged as he runs his hand through Eddie's curls.

"Stephen." He replies so endearingly it was like he was doing nothing at all. Steve's hands untangle from his hair, move down his neck, cupping in tenderly before his fingers traced Eddie's necklaces, tugging him closer.

"Edward Munson, don't act so innocent—"

Eddie giggles, then full blown laughter startles Steve out of his moment of dominance, and Eddie draws his hand back to cover his mouth. Steve can't help but feel a little insulted. "What?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He gets his giggles under control, but the amusement still peeks through his words. "Who?"

"Eddie, what—?"

"You said Edward." He points out, poking Steve's nose. "My name's not Edward."

"Well, who told you my name was St-Stephen?" Steve says, sitting up, as this conversation has him very deeply troubled now.

"Oh, I don't know, your license, passport, ... your parents."

"Oh." He says, dumbfounded. Steve cards his fingers back through his hair, then proceeds to talk with his hands - like a true Italian would. "I-I just thought, you know. Eddie" He holds both his hands out parallel, then moves them to the side, "Edward."

Eddie just chuckles this time, staring Steve in the eyes. "No, sweetness. It's not Edward."

"So if not Edward, what—? No, don't tell me it's just Eddie—"

Eddie looks almost offended at the statement, but he still smiles all the while, "Oh, no, of course not. If my parents got one thing right, it was my name."

All the times that Steve had wondered just what was wrong with the way that Eddie and Wayne spoke was running through his head, at the forefront of his mind. Not quite southern, not quite midwestern. Eddie had told him that he was from New York before, but there was something under that that he couldn't place ...

But Steve was more than happy to push that to the back of his mind when the trill of Eddie's r's tantalized him, and the roll of his tongue drew him into a kiss. 

"So ... what is it?"

Eddie just laughs, kisses him, and that's the end of that conversation.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Steve doesn't officially find out what Eddie's name is until Wayne is coming home one day, unaware that Steve is there with him. They'd been laying together, similar to way they were before, but now Eddie's head is laying on his chest, tracing patterns in his chest hair, down his belly button, to the end of his happy trail. 

The brunette would bat his eyes teasingly, and never quite go there, and then laugh at Steve's betrayed face. 

"Kid?" Wayne calls out, and neither of them really notice because of how loud Eddie's music is playing from his stereo, and how caught up they are in each other's eyes. "Ed?"

Wayne is closer now, right at the door. He knocks, "Edemirzachaai?" 

Steve takes mental note of the pronunciation — [Ed - a - meer - za - shai]

Eddie slowly draws his gaze away from Steve's, looking at the door, "Sir?"

Steve sputters, and Eddie hits his thigh, throwing a sly smile over his shoulder. Steve was struck dumb, because this is the name he'd been waiting to figure out for months now, and it really didn't disappoint.

"Y'okay in there?" He asked, "Still breathin'?"

"Yes, sir." He says, "And Steve's here."

"Are y'all decent?"

"Decent enough, you can come in."

Steve's mouth is still hanging open, and Wayne turns to Eddie, "چرا مثل یه احمق نگاه می کنه؟?" What's he looking dumb for? he says, and Steve is almost certain he's been insulted because of the way that Eddie laughs so hard he's wheezing.

"Don't be so mean, Wayne." Eddie replies, "He's getting culture shock."

Wayne leaves them be, and Eddie scoots back on the bed to sit up next to Steve. 

"So, is that your name?" 

He nods, then gets up as a thought plagues him. He ruffles through his things in the very back of his closet. 

"Eds, what are you doing—?"

"Found it!" He holds up a crumpled rectangle - or at least thats what it looked like - piece of paper triumphantly, then shoves it into Steve's hands. The paper is worse for wear, and looks like it's definitely seen some things.

"What's this?" Steve looks down at it, frowns. 

"It's my birth certificate!"

The paper reads: Edemirzachaai Yonah Urisah Lailaura Nurimeitarza Jude-Avraham Munson — and Steve doesn't think he'd ever seen a name so long in his life.

He can't help but keep reading it and re-reading it, twice, three times over, because it's about one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen aside from Eddie's face.

"Eddie, what are you, dude?"

"You say it like I'm some foreign life form or something!" He defends, "I'm not an alien, Jeez. Well—" Eddie laughs at his own joke, which makes Steve laugh in turn. "No, seriously. I'm Persian, with some Jewish in me."

"Jewish, Persian?"

"Well, the David's star tattooed smack dab in the middle of my chest isn't just for decoration, sweetness. Let's use our common sense here."

"How come I never knew?" he grabbed Eddie's hand.

"Kinda wanted you to just figure it out, I dunno. But now you know." He shrugs. 

"Every new thing I found out about you just makes you that much cooler than me, you know." Steve says, and Eddie leans to kiss him. "I don't have anything as cool as Persian or Jewish in me. I'm just plain Italian."

"Do you want some?" Eddie asks lowly, with that same devilish, bashful look in his eye. He bats his long eyelashes, and his dimples are so prominent when he smiles like this.

"I don't think I follow ..." Steve says confusedly, not quite getting it. "Some what?"

"Persian in you?"

"O-Oh—!"

[hellfire--cult]

Eddie Munson x Cosplayer!Fem!Reader

18+ MDNI sexual tension and possible smutty filthy part 2 for this

I just needed to show my nerdyness with all of you and I can assure you that Eddie would get fixated with a cosplayer, and much more if she dresses of the stuff he likes.

I will link pictures of the stuff I mention that you people might not know of, but I put descriptive information to the outfits and cosplays.

Plot: Eddie hates conventions, never went to one even, but a certain cosplayer changes his idea of it.

remember to reblog pls thank u.

Cosplay for me

Eddie Munson was never a person to go to conventions.

He never went to one before, in his life. He was never interested in them, but it was because he believed it was too crowded and he was told many times that there is always a putrid smell from sweat. Of course, there’s also memes about it online, so he always thought conventions were dirty, and he decided to never go to one.

That is until Mike Wheeler falls sick and Dustin has an extra ticket for Indiana Comic-Con. Dustin knew there was absolutely no chance with Steve, and Mike was the only one of the bunch that had his license. Eddie always cursed at Dustin for not having a driving license at the ripe age of 18, but the younger man always says he doesn’t really like the idea of driving. 

So he makes everyone chaperone him around.

That’s why Eddie was now in line to go into the building with a very excited Dustin Henderson next to him.

“There’s so much DnD stuff in here Eddie… There are limited editions of stuff too, like figurines with lots of discounts on anything you like!” Eddie just rolls his eyes at his friend, wanting anything but to look at stuff in the stands. 

“You told me that already…” He looked around to see the different types of crowds. You had kids, adults, teenagers and even elderly. He was surprised to see a couple dressed up as Leia and Han Solo and that’s when he noticed the amount of cosplayers that were there. Some of them you could guess it was their first one, and some were extremely detailed, surprising Eddie completely. 

When they finally got inside, Eddie tilted his head with confusion as he thought everything was going to be crowded, but it was very spacious and there were many areas of the different stands, people actually having some respect to not push through to look at stuff. He looked at Dustin who was mesmerized as he looked all around and then his eyes widened as he spotted the sponsor he wanted to show Eddie.

“Look Eds!” Eddie looked at where Dustin was pointing at and his eyes widened as he looked at the stand that was filled with DnD figurines, dice, boards, and everything you could possibly get for the game to be even more thrilling. He was magnetized towards it and he had to hold himself back as he looked all over the merchandise. He settled for a squishy 20 dice that looked cool with all the red and black swirls and then for a resin one that had liquid inside and a moving ball with sparkles in the middle.

“Fucking sick…” Dustin smiled at his friend as they kept walking to the other stands. Eddie was not that excited for the rest of the things his younger friend was showing him, but he couldn’t deny that the small businesses made stuff that official merchandise doesn’t have. He looked towards the Netflix sponsor that was in the crowdest part of the building, frowning at it.

“What are you looking at?” Dustin asked as he followed Eddie’s gaze to see what he was staring at.

“I don’t know, something about a new show being aired soon. Didn’t catch its name. Something about things.” He shrugged as he kept walking and Dustin followed right behind. The next part Dustin was excited to see was the gaming area. 

Eddie didn’t have enough money to get a nice gaming pc, but it was decent enough, so he didn’t mind going into that area to look at the new releases and the many components you could buy for your PC. His eyes caught onto a large mousepad that had the eye of Sauron in the middle of it and he didn’t even hesitate when he purchased it. Dustin bought a new gaming mouse for himself and they left the area contently.

“You still hate conventions?” Dustin asks with a wiggle of eyebrows as they head outside for Eddie to have a smoke. The metalhead rolls his eyes as he puts down his bags to get a cigarette in between his lips and light it up, blowing the smoke into the open air.

“It does smell weird Dustin… One time is enough for me.” Eddie says and Dustin could only sigh at how hopeless his friend was. He really thought Eddie would like going to a convention with him because Eddie was into all of this stuff. 

“Really? Nothing appealed to you?”

“It’s the same sh–” And his eyes caught sight of something white that was walking through the crowd. His heart got caught in his throat as he saw the most beautiful thing he’s seen this whole day and nothing could beat it. The long white hair falling down her back, the elf ears picking out of it on the sides, the elf silver crown over her head, the white dress falling down her body as she kept walking.

Galadriel. From Lord of The Rings.

“Eddie?” Dustin followed his gaze until it finally landed on the Galadriel cosplayer, making him smile proudly. “Oh, that’s actually a famous cosplayer.” 

“What?” Eddie snaps his head towards Dustin and the younger boy keeps nodding and he finally says your real name. 

“She is very good with her fantasy themed cosplays. Here, I’ll give you her instagram.” Eddie didn’t even doubt it for a second as he handed Dustin his phone in order to look you up. His eyes bulged out of his skull as he browsed over your profile. 

There were armor cosplays, DnD cosplays, Legend of Zelda cosplays, some a little more explicit than the others, but it wasn’t bad. He gulped as he stared at one of your League of Legends cosplay. You were dressed as Miss Fortune, and your cleavage was making your breasts really pop out from the edges. He was almost drooling and he remembered he was with Dustin, hitting the follow button and remembering to keep stalking your profile later on. 

You were taking pictures with people and Eddie noticed how you were acting exactly like the character you were cosplaying as. Graceful and calm. Dustin laughed when a group of men, dressed as hobbits, ran over to you to take a picture and Eddie couldn’t help but smile as you all stood in character for the picture. He was amazed at the dedication which was even more than just putting a costume on. 

“Does she always go to conventions?” Eddie asks his friend and Dustin caught onto it, knowing Eddie had finally found something that interests him in the event. 

“She’s always invited. I said she was famous. She has a stand most likely if you want to go meet her and get a picture…” Dustin tries and Eddie immediately shakes his head, taking a puff out of his cigarette. 

“Nah, I’m good.”

He probably spent a good hour stalking all of your photoshoot pictures when he got home. 

He noticed that you also cosplayed stuff from many games and movies, and he almost died when he saw you in a Tomb Raider costume. You had over 52k followers on Instagram, and now he understood why Dustin said you were famous. You were a Cosplay Influencer, but you seemed genuine in your stories, and he couldn’t help but smile as you reposted many stories of people that took a picture with you as Galadriel. 

He kind of cursed at himself for not being able to be brave enough to get a picture with you. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Dustin… Though he kind of knew that his younger friend realized that he had hearts eyes for you the moment you walked out in the court. 

He wondered if he would ever have the chance to meet you, maybe even help you in a way. That’s when he saw the donation button in your Instagram page. It said that you were grateful for everyone’s collaboration and that every penny goes into her cosplays and into the fundraiser for Kids with Epilepsy she donates to. Eddie wondered if that was indeed true, because many influencers lie about that stuff.

For some reason though, he really did believe you had a kind soul.

So he donated what he could afford, which was only five dollars– but it was something.

He didn’t have to wonder if you were a kind soul for long. There was an Anime Convention being held in a couple of weeks, and you posted in your feed that you were invited and was going to have a stand to sell prints of your pictures and get to know everyone that wanted to take a picture with her. 

It was a coincidence that Dustin had another free ticket this time saying that he thought Mike liked anime, but it turns out that he didn’t and now he didn’t know what to do with that extra ticket. Eddie wasn’t going to pass the chance and took it without a second thought in mind.

He wasn’t a fan of anime, but the amount of ass and tits that he saw as he entered the building was insane. He knew there were very explicit animes out there, but what he didn’t know was that people dared to cosplay them in public. He almost wanted to cover Dustin’s eyes, often forgetting that his friend is no longer fourteen years old. 

“Holy fuck…” Eddie mumbles out as his eyes went from breasts, to asses, to another pair of breasts–

“Yeah, this is what you’ve been missing out on all these years. I told Steve to come so many times because trust me, I know he would love it.” Dustin chuckles as Eddie follows suit. He knew that Steve was a flirt, and yes, he was stupid for saying no to Dustin. Screw him now because Eddie was the one to always second Dustin to conventions now.

“I don’t know anything about what they’re dressed as…” He points at a few girls that are dressed with very tiny strings and underwear with a lot of plastic armor around them. “But fuck that’s hot.”

“That’s Kill la Kill.” 

“Dustin… I don’t care…” Dustin couldn’t help but laugh, nodding at Eddie to keep moving. He kept walking as his eyes couldn’t stop looking all over the place, not looking at where he was going, only for him to run into someone, plastic crashing onto his chin as he yelped in pain and stepped back in order to hold it. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” A muffled voice says, and he looks at the person he ran into, only to see a girl dressed in a black tight motorbike suit that fits her body like a glove. The zipper on her chest was pulled down slightly for her cleavage to show and he almost kept his stare there, but he snapped out as the girl moved and his eyes looked up to see her wearing a yellow cat bike helmet, a very black visor at front and the cat ears pointing up. Eddie can pretty much guess that’s what hit his chin.

“Yeah, don’t– Don’t worry about it.” Dustin immediately got in between them both and handed his phone to Eddie.

“Holy shit, your Celty cosplay is so perfect! Can I have a picture with you?” A muffled giggle was heard behind the helmet and she nodded. Eddie got the camera app out on Dustin’s phone as the girl and him got in position for the picture and Eddie almost laughed at how Dustin was taking his tongue out as she poked his cheek with her black latex glove. Eddie took the picture and handed the phone to Dustin.

“Thank you! And sorry again pretty boy!” She says to Eddie and he was taken aback by how straightforward she was as she skipped away. 

“I love that character, and her cosplay was fucking spot on.” Dustin looked at the picture with a smile to his face and put his phone back into his pocket. Eddie believed that taking pictures with cosplayers that were just minding their own business as they walked was a little bit embarrassing, but they didn’t seem to mind, but kind of seemed delighted by it. Dustin explained to him that cosplayers don’t have to be bothered if seen eating or resting, or if you see them heading for a bathroom. 

Eddie nodded in acknowledgement at that as they kept walking, and he watched Dustin purchase many figurines from animes he liked, and Eddie wasn’t going to lie but there was a particular figure he found interest in. It was a demon looking guy with big black wings, an apple in one hand and he was hunched over.

“Who’s this?”

“That’s Ryuk, he’s from Death Note. I told you to watch that one, you will like it.” Eddie hums in approval, and he acknowledges Dustin’s recommendation noting to watch that later. 

When he finally reaches the cosplayer gallery… His jaw almost drops to the floor. 

There stood that Celty cosplay girl only this time, her helmet was off. 

You were smiling as you signed pictures of yourself as people purchased them from your stand. He cursed at himself for not knowing it was you the person he ran into an hour ago because if he knew, he would have gotten a picture with you as well. 

“Wanna go say hi to her?” Dustin asks as he smirks up at his friend and Eddie just scoffs, shaking his head.

“No. She is just your typical internet influencer, asking for donations for–” He blinked in surprise when he saw a few people walking over to you with shirts that said something in the back. You were smiling wildly as you excitedly talked to all of them. All of these people were grown adults, a few elderly ones, and when he squinted his eyes he could see what the shirts said in the back.

‘Epilepsy Foundation’

They were all purchasing prints for you as you tried to decline it, not wanting these people to buy stuff from you as you shook your head. They all still purchased a picture for you, and then when they all got together for a picture that another cosplayer helped take for all of you, he saw these people with bands over their foreheads that said your name. Eddie’s heart warmed immediately as he saw you wiping a tear away as these people clapped for you. There wasn’t a camera on sight to catch that moment, making it more intimate and more genuine.

“Dustin… I think I fell in love.”

Eddie became a fan.

He knew it and he didn’t care. You were kind, amazing, beautiful and selfless. He was waiting for the next convention to happen in town knowing there were a few ones that were small, just for the people around the area. He also donated any time he could, even if it were two dollars, or three, maybe sometimes ten, but it was always something. 

He was now laying on his bed, scrolling through tik tok and that’s when he got the notification of you going live on Instagram. His eyes almost bulged out of his skull and he immediately, desperately, pressed onto the notification, directing it straight to your live. He almost sighed out in happiness as he saw your face coming onto the screen. There was little to nothing of makeup on your face and he was just mesmerized as you greeted everyone.

He deliberated if to say hi to you or not. He gulped as he typed out a small ‘Hey’ and a smiley face which made him cringe and delete it. Would it be too cold? He wasn’t believing that you would see it anyways, so he just sent it like that. You were still greeting people and your eyes perked up suddenly.

“Oh, hi Eddie! Thank you for donating all this time, I am grateful for that!” 

He couldn’t believe it as he quickly sat up on his bed. His heart was in his throat as he stared at the screen completely speechless. You acknowledged him. You noticed his username is the same one he uses for the donation app. You know about him and… Fuck did he have cringey photos in his instagram feed? He knows he has one with Steve and then one with Dustin but he doesn’t know if–

What makes him think you stalked his instagram page? He shook his head at the thought and took a deep breath in as he typed in another message. You were talking about your upcoming events and he pressed send to his message.

‘Hopefully I have the balls to ask for your picture this time.’

Another message he doesn’t think you will see with over five hundred people watching your live, and that thought was proved wrong once more when you giggled as you fake gasped with a hand over your chest.

“Am I that scary? Also, how’s your chin?” 

Eddie’s jaw fell open, instantly. Holy fucking shit. Holy flying fuck. You remembered him. You remembered him from when he ran into you with Dustin a month ago… You stalked his instagram profile. You did. You obviously fucking did. It seems that you noticed your mistake because he saw how your face flushed as you tried changing subject back to the next event you will be attending. 

He was speechless right now. He was sure that there were many people donating hundreds, way more money than he was able to give out, yet you noticed him for some reason? What does it mean? Why does he feel hopeful? What for? He gulped as he looked at the screen, and confidence rose up in his chest as he wrote the following message.

‘You forgot to kiss it better.’

And his confidence only grew when you responded to him again with a smile to your face.

“Well, remind me of that at the next con.”

He was pissed. 

He was extremely pissed. 

He was being dragged here and there at the convention because it wasn’t just Dustin this time. Mike and Will came along and he didn’t want to leave them alone because they were acting like little kids all over again, going from stand to stand, from game to game, and all Eddie wanted to do was to rush towards the Cosplayer Alley to be able to meet you. 

“I am hungry.” Mike voices out as he doesn’t even ask for the group’s approval as he walks out to the food court that was outside. Eddie groans heavily as his anger just keeps raising up, and he gets the cigarettes out of his pocket and tells Dustin to just stay put at the hot dog stand. He walked away from the tables people were sitting at eating just to be respectful for the smoke and then, when he was about to light up his cigarette, a small voice was heard from behind him.

“Hey… Can I have a smoke?” 

He turned around to clash eyes with colored lenses that were in a blue tone. White hair dripped down again, but this time a half braid was around the head and towards the back. A white dress that had black dragon wings at the torso that held a white cape over her shoulders. 

“Well shit, I can’t believe Daenerys Targaryen is asking for a smoke.” Eddie was surprised he could make a joke as you finally giggle, a smile spreading over your lips, walking closer to him. His hands were shaking as he held onto his pack and opened it for you to take one stick out. You put it on your lips and he raised the lighter up as you leaned forward to light the cigarette up. After a long inhale, you finally let it out, a curtain of smoke filling the air above you.

“Yeah… This costume is… doing something today and I needed to relax a bit.” You say shyly as you look down towards the floor. Eddie’s heart was beating out of his throat, taking a drag out of his own cigarette this time as he looked at you. He looked behind him to see a beverage stand, licking his lips as he squinted his eyes and then back at you.

“You want a beer?” He didn’t even know if you liked beer, but he felt cupid shooting another arrow towards his chest when you looked up at him excitedly with a nod. 

“I would like that…” You both walk to the stand to get a can of beer each, and you giggle as you guide Eddie to move to the back of the stand so that no one could see you in your cosplay having alcohol and smoking.

“So secretive.” Eddie says and he didn’t even care if the others couldn’t find him anymore. Hell, they can get lost and he will most definitely ditch them if it meant to have a moment with you alone. You giggle as you squinted slightly at his face, biting your bottom lip in thought.

“What’s… your name?” You asked it with a hint of doubt behind it but Eddie didn’t notice it, or didn’t think too much of it.

“I’m Eddie–”

“I KNEW IT!” Eddie's heart jumped out of his mouth at your scream, his eyes widening as he looked at you who was looking at him with the brightest of smiles. “I knew it was you! You are Eddie!”

“I mean, I am Eddie…” His confidence was skyrocketing again. You remembered him, definitely, from his face to his hair, and you even recognized him from just instagram pictures, which only led Eddie to wonder… How many times have you looked at them?

“The guy who doesn’t dare to take a picture with me.” You smirk as you take a sip of your beer while looking at him. He scoffs as he rolls his eyes at you, but happiness was just blossoming inside of him as he looked at you.

“I do dare, I just don’t do this convention shit so I was embarrassed at first.” You hum at his words, taking a drag out of the cigarette. 

“If you don’t like them, why do you attend?” You ask him with a tilt of your head, completely confused by his response. He was speechless, his worst stumbling out of his mouth as he thought of an excuse other than just blurting out ‘Because of you’.

“M-My buddy always needs someone to accompany him… For support.” At that you made an ‘Oh’ sound, giving him a nod in understanding.

“The guy that I took a picture with when I smashed your chin?” You ask with a giggle and he felt like dying at the sound of your lovely voice. He chuckles, nodding down at you as he takes a sip of his beer.

“Yep.”  You seemed like you wanted to say something to him but you held back, taking a sip out of your beer and Eddie could feel you ogling him over your cup. He wanted to ask the gods above if this was a trick of theirs, a stupid joke or a trial he had to go through because it wasn’t possible that a girl like you was looking at him with desire. It was impossible.

“Really… Then why did you come here if your friend… is with friends?” You were smirking now as he snapped out of his trance and you gave him a nod towards his back, making him turn around only to see Dustin laughing along with Mike and Will as they sat on a table eating their corn dogs. He winced in embarrassment as he turned to face you again.

“I am their ride.” He lied. He offered to be the ride. Mike told him there was no need, but Eddie refused. 

“And you are drinking?” 

“One beer isn’t going to kill me.” Eddie replies back and you were now looking at him, a small smile on your lips and Eddie had one thought only at that moment. One that he never thought of having. A thought that just came to him and now he realizes it has been a fantasy ever since he saw you.

He wants to fuck you in one of your cosplays.

“Oh… thought you were coming to finally ask to take a picture with me.” You say in a sultry tone as you took a drag out of your cigarette and Eddie immediately felt the tension growing between the two of you. He licked the inside of his bottom lip as he looked down at you. A smirk spread on his lips and he noticed how you straightened up, a small step forward going towards him. 

You were pure in his eyes, doing all this cosplay stuff, doing charity, being incredible with the people that followed you, but he never thought you would ever look at someone like him like this. He never thought you would be this willing at the first interaction you had with him… But if he was reading the signs right, and if he was daring enough, he might get to fuck Daenerys Targaryen. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but someday. So might as well–

“I actually came here to ask you for your picture… and a date.” 

And Eddie’s heart was taken away once more as you smirked at him, taking another step closer to him and you responded in a low and seductive tone that sent shivers down his spine and adrenaline started rushing inside of him. 

“I’m free after the event.” He took another step closer to you, and he noticed the intake of breath you took in, making him grin widely.

“Yeah, I think you promised to kiss it better… Didn’t you sweet girl?”

idk man, i just couldn't stop writing this, acknowledgement to all my cosplay girlies out there.

Smutty part 2? Let's hear at what Eddie should fuck her in.

[shinyzango]

So, 2025...

Now that we're officially in 2025, and I finally recovered from the new year allnighter so I can finally reason, let's finally talk about personal objectives for the year.

2025 is going to be... a busy year for me. I got many plans on the line that I am going to hopefully achieve by the end of the year.

First of all, the biggest most important thing is that starting from this year, I'm officially a Freelancer Artist. Yes until now I've kept doing it as a side thing, but seeing how things are going, I'm going to see how it'll work out. While the prospect of fully center my job around art is rather intimidating to me, I really cannot think of any other job I can undertake as a primary income source. I will make this work. In prospect of this, things are most likely to change a bit commissions wise as I will have to adapt elements (such as prices and request form) in order to fit better with this. I apologize if this will make it harder for folks to buy something for me, but it is a necessary change. But on the other side, I do want to push myself out there and start actually leaving a mark. I want to be seen, to join projects and help bringing them to life. It's time I get out of my shell for good.

Another objective for the year, as I mentioned before, is to officially start putting down "The Last Nutcracker". I think I waited long enough and I can't keep hold it back further. When I will start, that I cannot say for certain. But it is going to happen.

Then, I want to stream more. Both Art and Games. I want to hang out and have fun, share my experiences with everyone. I have a long list of games I want to stream as I mentioned before (with even more games than what I did list as I slowly remembered more games I want to play), and I want to get around to play through them. Have a proper stream setup and all.

What else... well, there are smaller personal objectives, such as get the driving license for cars, learn japanese, find a physical activity that I enjoy doing in order to get back in shape, meeting up with my irl friends more often, rent a table at a comic convention at least once...

and definitely more objectives that my brain is most likely forgetting about at the moment.

This is going to be a busy year. But it is going to be THE year. A year of changes. Of improvement. I will make sure of it.

And I wish it will be the same for everyone else. I know we're currently in a period where a lot of shit is happening and everything looks bleak, but it's important to remember that even if the world is shit, we can still work to make our lives that more enjoyable for ourselves. It all starts with us.

We can do it.

Happy New Year, folks. Let's fuckin rock this year.

[jerzwriter]

Thank you to @snoopdogcone for this prompt for @choicesprompts Angstgiving event. The prompt is highlighted in the text below.

Book: Open Heart (Book 2) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Casey MacTavish (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 3,363 Summary: Ethan's back from his mission in the Amazon rainforest, and it's time to face the wreckage he left behind.

A/N: Please note, this story is not part of my Ethan x Kaycee headcanon; it's part of my Casey MacTavish world where they are not end game.

@choicesmonthlychallengenov2024 - apology, regret

Casey was laser-focused on her task as she meandered through the packed maze of tables in Donahue’s beer garden. Nothing was going to come between her and her friends celebrating tonight’s victory properly, and securing a table was part of that goal. The place was packed, abuzz with the vibrant energy that seemed to define Boston during the final days of summer when the warm nights carried just a hint of the autumn breeze that would soon usher star-filled nights like this away. It seemed everyone had the same idea as they tried to soak in every last minute.

In the midst of clinking glasses, laughter, and the hum of dozens of conversations, Casey finally claimed victory. She flashed a bright smile when she spotted an empty table, waving furiously at her friends to join her. “Hurry up!! Hurry!” she beamed. “It’s almost time!”

Everyone quickly assembled, slipping onto the benches with their drinks in hand; the excitement was palpable. “Should we do a countdown first?” Elijah asked.

“Too late for that!” Casey replied. “It’s midnight!!”

 “Yeah! We made it!” Elijah howled with a raised glass. “Intern year is officially over!”

“And I say good freaking riddance!” Jackie chimed in. “We made it, and we did it with our medical licenses intact to boot!”

“Jackie!” Sienna frowned. “Don’t even joke about that! I was so scared Casey was going to have to leave Edenbrook! That’s one part of the intern year I want to forget!”

“I wouldn’t mind forgetting that part either,” Casey agreed. “But despite the low moments, I’ll still look back fondly on this year. After all, it’s when I met all of you!”

“Awww,” Sienna smiled, giving her friend a quick squeeze.

But Jackie wasn’t as moved. “How many of those have you had?” She laughed, motioning toward Casey’s empty glass.

Casey affectionately embraced her mortified friend. “Just enough to spill my emotions all over this table!”

Bryce arrived at the table and claimed the seat next to Casey, wrapping his arm around her waist as soon as he placed a fresh round of drinks on the table. “Well, it that’s where you are now, I’ll have you dancing when you finish this one.”

“As if getting me to dance is a struggle!” Casey chuckled. “But this is my last drink. I have a big day ahead!”

“Sure, rub it in!” Jackie smirked. “Now I can admit that part of me was hoping you’d lose your license because I would have swooped right in and taken your spot on the diagnostic team!”

“Not if I got to it first,” Elijah laughed, but his bright smile faltered when he glanced over Casey’s shoulder. “Speaking of the diagnostic team...” He nodded toward the entrance, and everyone’s heads turned.

Sienna looked like she saw a ghost. “Oh my gosh! He’s back!”

While her response may have been a bit dramatic for Sienna, it didn’t begin to express the turmoil stirring in Casey. The average person wouldn’t have noticed; she did her best to remain composed even as her body went rigid and her heart pounded in her chest. After two long months of absence, Ethan Ramsey was back, walking toward them like it was any other day, as if he hadn’t ripped Casey’s heart out just months before.

“He looks... different,” Sienna observed.

“Well, two months fighting an outbreak in the Amazon will do that to a person,” Jackie replied. Her eyes flickered in his direction, attempting to warn Casey that he was near.

But it was too late. He was already standing beside her, nodding a polite greeting to all, before his blue eyes locked on Casey’s for the first time since he had promised her they’d find a way to work things out.

“Rookie...” he stated, his expression unreadable.

If his presence flustered Casey, she hid it well. “You’re a bit too late for that, Dr. Ramsey,” she replied with a bravado she didn’t know she had. “As of sixty seconds ago, I’m not a rookie anymore. I’m officially a resident now.”

“Is that so?” he replied with a hint of a smile. “Then I take it you won’t be making any more rookie mistakes.”

“Well, I’m not sure about that,” she shrugged as her irritation began to crack her unaffected veneer. “If I’ve learned anything recently, it’s that everyone makes mistakes, world-renowned attendings included.”

The table went silent, the friends exchanging nervous looks as Sienna bit her lip. But if they were surprised by her candor, Ethan was not; it was one of the things he had come to admire in her. Clearing his throat, he replied calmly.

“I see,” he mumbled. “Well, I’ll let you and your friends get back to celebrating.”

A hush fell over the table when he turned and made his way toward the bar. Casey’s eyes followed him as her friends remained in a state of shock. Jackie was the first to break the silence. “Well, that wasn’t awkward or anything.”

Bryce tightened his grip around Casey. He knew this had to impact her more than anyone. After all, he was the one who had sat beside her night after night, listening to her cry and wiping away the tears that never seemed to stop. “Hey, are you OK?” He whispered.

Casey looked at him with a forced smile and patted his knee. “Yeah. I’m... fine.”

Sensing her friend’s discomfort, Sienna quickly steered the conversation, and the friends continued chatting as if nothing happened. But Casey couldn’t forget. Her eyes kept wandering back to the bar where Ethan sat in his usual spot – a seat so synonymous with him that it had remained conspicuously empty during his absence.

His expression was distant, and there was a heaviness to him that wasn’t there before. Even Reggie’s lively banter didn’t seem to impact his mood. He looked older... tired, as though the mission had taken more from him than anyone knew. That’s what Casey assumed it was as she looked his way. She may have been a brilliant diagnostician, but right now, her assessment couldn’t have been further from the truth. 

The night went on, and before they knew it, Reggie’s voice rang out. “Alright people! Last call. You ain’t gotta go home, but you can’t stay here!”

“Already?” Casey groaned, her voice tightening. “No! It just hit me... I’m starting on the diagnostic team tomorrow!”

“Rub it in, why don’t you?” Elijah laughed as Bryce offered Casey words of reassurance. 

“Well, I’m not starting on the diagnostic team, but I still need some sustenance to get through,” Jackie announced. “You guys want to hit the diner on the way home?”

“Why don’t you go ahead,” Casey replied. “I think I’m going stay behind and touch base with Ethan about tomorrow.”

She stepped inside the bar cautiously, so quiet that Ethan didn’t notice her until she took the stool beside him. “So... that last call thing doesn’t apply to you, huh?” she asked.

He turned to her, his eyes heavy with emotion, though his voice remained light. “Reggie and I go way back. We have... an arrangement.”

“An arrangement?” She half-laughed, her arm crossed protectively before her. “Is that what most people would call friendship?”

“I don’t have friends, Casey,” he stated flatly before downing the remains of his drink. “But I wouldn’t mind you joining me if you’re so inclined.”

Casey sat in stunned silence. She had pictured the moment when he would return in her head all summer long. Through the heartbreak and tears, she had practiced the words she planned to say like a mantra. She had perfected them. Each word a unique piece of ammunition designed to pierce his heart the way his silent departure had shattered hers. She had dreamed about finally having the chance to unleash her fury. Letting him know just how much damage he had done, but now, sitting beside him, the words that were in her heart and mind refused to travel to her lips.

With an inaudible sigh, she diverted her eyes. “Sure,” was all she could manage to say.

Ethan nodded with a look of both relief and fear in his eyes. He reached over the bar and grabbed a half-empty bottle of the bar’s finest Scotch and two glasses. “Hey, Reggie,” he yelled. “We’re going to borrow this.”

“Why don’t we take this outside?” He said. “Winter will be here before you know it; we might as well enjoy it while we can.”

“Sure,” she said again, angry at herself for her inability to say more. He hurt so badly and ran off to avoid the fallout left in its wake. He deserved to hear them. Yet, here she was, rendered silent, following him like a loyal pet shadowing its master.

They settled into two chairs beside the fire pit, its flickering light casting a warm glow between them. Ethan poured two drinks, handing one to Casey. When his fingers brushed hers, the simple touch sent a jolt through both of them. Casey wanted to down her drink in one gulp. But, if she wanted to be sober for this conversation, a sip would have to do.

“You look great,” he said with a tentative smile.

“Thank you. You look... different,” she replied, taking him in.

“Different?” he asked, his smile morphing into a full grin. “Different good, or different bad?”

“Just... different.”

“Well,” he admitted with a faint chuckle. “I’ve been through quite a bit.”

“I’m sure,” she said, swirling her glass nervously. “We all have. But, it was brave of you to go on that mission.”

Ethan choked on his drink, reflecting silently for a moment. “That... that wasn’t bravery, Casey.”

The look in his eyes launched a swell of emotions in Casey: anger, sympathy, fear, pain, and mingled with something else - something she thought she already buried. No wonder she couldn’t lash out at him. She didn’t want to feel it; she didn’t want it to be there, but love was never something Casey MacTavish let go of easily. At that moment she knew, despite the anger and hurt, she knew the truth: she couldn’t pull the trigger on him if she tried.

Eventually, the reality of the situation hit her like a wave. After all this time, he was here – sitting in front of her - and she deserved answers. Her voice shook as she spoke, each word filled with pain she had been carrying.

“You left,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “You left without telling me. Ethan, you didn’t say a single word.”

His expression crumbled, the weight of her accusation hitting him. He knew this confrontation was inevitable, but that did nothing to lessen its sting. Leaning forward, he braced himself; it was time to face the reckoning he always knew would come.

“Casey,” he started, his voice filled with regret. “I have no excuse to offer. I was... a coward. I didn’t know what to do, so I ran... I had to. I knew that if I saw you... if we had talked...I...” His words trailed as he turned away, unable to face the look in her eyes.

“If you came to me, you knew I wouldn’t have let you go with so much unresolved between us,” she replied. “I would have supported your choice if you wanted to go, but I wouldn’t let you use it as an excuse. I wouldn’t have let you run away. You would have had to face things... face me.”

“Yes,” he smiled sadly, “and that’s why I just... left.”

His words felt like a slap on the face. Insult added to injury. Casey was done shielding him from the damage his actions had caused. It was time for him to see it all. A bitter laugh escaped her, echoing through the empty space.

“Yes!” She shot back, her body trembling and her voice filled with rage. “You just... left. Left me! I stood in a conference room with all the other interns when Naveen announced your departure. I got to hear it like I was just anyone else... like I meant absolutely nothing to you!” She shook her head, eyes burning. “You told me we’d figure things out! You insisted we’d find a way to make it work, and I believed you! Then you were just... gone, without so much as a goodbye! Do you have any idea how much that hurt me, Ethan?”

“Casey, I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice and eyes filled with regret. “I know that was wrong. There is no excuse I can offer to make it right.”

“You knew it was wrong?” she seethed. “You knew! But then you remained silent the whole time you were gone? Two months, Ethan. Two whole months! I left you dozens of voicemails... I stopped counting how many texts I sent! Did you even listen to them? Did you hear the pain in my voice and choose to ignore me? Or did they mean so little that you just deleted them without a second thought?”

“Casey, don’t say that,” he pleaded. “Nothing you say could ever be meaningless to me.”

“Then why?” she demanded, her voice breaking as she fought back tears. “Why didn’t you contact me? You reached out to Naveen. You reached out to Harper. But me? Nothing!” She took a trembling breath. “You just ghosted me... after everything we’ve been through?”

“It’s precisely because of everything we’ve been through that I didn’t contact you,” he replied. “You know the stakes, Casey! We’re going to be working together - you’re reporting to me. Your professional development and reputation... they’re too important. You’ve worked too hard to get where you are to let it all blow up because of me. I couldn’t let whatever we had between us put you at risk.”

 “Whatever we had...” she snickered. “Past tense?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “And the past is where it needs to stay.”

Casey felt the resolve that his presence had softened returning to life inside her. It was all coming together: the sleepless nights, the heartache, hearing the whispers in Edenbrook’s halls, enduring the pitiful stares, the loneliness she felt as she picked up the shattered pieces of herself one by one without so much as a word from the man who had caused it. He owed her... he owed her better than this. She steadied herself before speaking again, her voice defiant.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she scoffed. “The past is exactly where it will remain. But do me one favor,” she asked, her vulnerability peeking through once more. “Admit what it was that we’re losing. Tell me what “it” was, Ethan! Can you at least give me that?”

He leaned back, an exasperating sigh escaping him as he focused on the bright stars sparking in the dark sky. “Casey,” he murmured, trying to find the words. “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth!” she yelled. “I want you to tell me the truth! You shattered my heart, Ethan, and left me to cope with it alone. If you ever cared for me at all,  then at least have the decency to admit what it was. Don’t leave me believing I was just some... mistake... tell me! Did you... did you ever love me at all?”

Ethan turned to her, his eyes filled with a sadness he couldn’t bring himself to admit. Gently raising a hand, he tilted her chin toward him, relishing the feel of her skin against his, knowing in his heart that he’d never touch her like this again.

She couldn’t see his internal battle - a battle between the part of him that knew she deserved the truth and the part that needed to protect her... protect himself. She deserved to know that she wasn’t the only one who had spent the summer heartbroken. She deserved to know about the dozens of letters he penned, each one confessing the feelings he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud – letters he knew he’d never send.

But what if he told her? Knowing Casey, she’d forgive him and do everything in her power to make them work, even if it meant sacrificing herself. Would she quit the diagnostic team? Leave Edenbrook? Go to a lesser program? Knowing her, she just might. She’d fought tooth and nail to get to this place in her career, and he couldn’t... he wouldn’t let her sacrifice it, not for him, and not for something as fleeting as love.

“Casey,” he finally said, his voice shaking. “Love is nothing more than proximity paired with a rush of neurochemical responses triggered by heightened stress.”

She pushed his hand away, his words cutting deeper than a knife ever could. The memory of the first time he said those words to her came rushing back. At that time, she thought it was just his cynicism talking. It was almost comical. But now? After all, they had been through... he still believed that? Had their time together taught him... nothing.

She took a deep breath as she rose to her feet; this was it, this was the end, and she could feel the sadness giving way to relief.

“Maybe that’s all love is to you,” she replied. “But that’s not all it is to me. I spent the past couple of months so hurt, so angry at you, but right now... all I can feel for you is pity. You want a reset? Ethan... there’s nothing to reset. We were over the day you stepped on that plane. I know my worth, Ethan, and I deserve so much better than this.”

She let the words hang in the air for a moment, then, standing tall, she met his eyes. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Dr. Ramsey. I look forward to working with you this year.”

And just like that, she was his colleague and nothing more. He watched her go, her silhouette framed in the soft light of the doorway, and his chest ached with the overwhelming urge to stop her, to say something, anything to pull her back. But as the door clicked shut behind her, he sank back into his chair, knowing she was right. This was the end. They were over.

He closed his eyes for a long moment, the weight of regret crushing his soul. With a deep breath, he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled a weathered piece of paper, the latest in a long line of the unsent letters he wrote, and his eyes skimmed over the closing lines:

You’ll never know how much you’ve changed me, Casey. If only I had the courage to be a better man. You deserve someone who will meet you in the light instead of hiding in the shadows. I wanted to be that man for you, I did, but it’s not in me. I’ll always carry you in my heart, even though I have to let you go. I love you, Casey. Always -  Ethan.”

The paper shook in his trembling hands as he watched the flames dancing. Then, with a sharp exhale, he tossed it into the fire, watching as the edges curled and blackened before his words disintegrating into ash.

It was over. This chapter was closed.

@choicesficwriterscreations @choicesprompts @choicesmonthlychallengenov2024 @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[zunckerz]

redraw of that one official art for the beta version of AHiT but with my own hashtag yaoi twist hehyuck! 🤓 sorry for being gone for so long! or a while cannot keep track. uni has been keeping me super busy and if I’m being honest the Hispanic heritage month art challenge burned me out, I’m probably gonna stick to posting it only on instagram yup self promo follow me guys at unnierz

in all seriousness though, thank you all so much for the support it helps me get through my week. while I’m here i guess I wanted to mention in ao3 author style that i got diagnosed with OCD. I’ve been in “I don’t have it! that psychiatrist with a licensed degree doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about!!!” to “if I don’t put my sandals on top of my nightstand cockroaches and mice are gonna infest my body and kill me” limbo, so that’s been. A journey but thankfully I’m getting help I need now :) anyways that’s all I wanted to ramble about have a lovely day or night and if you’re seeing this at 3 am or something GO TO BED NOW!

[pengweng-quack]

Let’s Get Married in Vegas

Gojo Satoru x Reader (uses second person though mentions of Y/N Y/L/N)

Summary: You and Gojo got drunkenly married in Vegas

Notes:

The song was continuously playing on my TikTok so here we are

Word Count: 1721 words

Masterlist

It began innocently enough, with just you and Gojo going out to a bar in Vegas for a laid-back evening. After experiencing enough hard days together, the prospect of enjoying some cocktails and laughs sounded like the ideal cure.

The discussion flowed effortlessly as the evening drew on, broken only by fits of laughing and glasses clinking. The bartender recognized you and kept the shots coming without asking any questions. One shot became two, and two shots became four before you lost count how many you and Gojo had taken already.

The competitive side of you two quickly surfaced, as it frequently did in circumstances like this. But instead of the usual competition to see who could drink the most, it devolved into a playful fight to see who was the biggest lightweight. Each successive shot seemed to blur the lines between reality and the carefree abandon of the moment.

“Babe, I think we should go home now.” Gojo stammered, unable to keep his eyes open, his words mumbling together. With his head firmly resting on the table, his breath was hardly audible over the background sounds of the pub.

“Great idea, you're a genius!” You giggled, struggling to keep your balance as you and Gojo stood up, both of you swaying slightly in the process

"Don't fall for me." He replied, his words punctuated by a giddy grin, "I know I'm cute."

While rolling your eyes, you grabbed Gojo's hand, fingers entwined, and pulled him out of the bar. Your movements faltered and you mumbled apologies every time you or Gojo unintentionally bumped into someone.

The world outside seemed to be a blur, with your laughing blending with the noises of the nighttime city as you walked along the sidewalk together under the long shadows made by the streetlights. As you lurched along arm in arm with your boyfriend, there was a feeling of freedom and excitement in the air despite the haze of alcohol clouding your senses.

With only the comfort of each other's presence and the hope of home to guide you, every step was an adventure and every stumble a moment of shared laughter as you made your way through the night.

In his presence, you felt a sense of completeness, a feeling that you had finally found your partner in crime, your companion for life's journey.

And as you leaned into him, the warmth of his presence comforting you despite the chill of the night air, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be and who you were meant to be with.

"We should get married!" You drunk yelled as you walk pass the License Bureau

"You're so smart! This is why you're the cutest, most loveliest, person that I love so much!" Gojo yelled happily, standing up straight and pulling you in the place

After you and Gojo laughed and occasionally got confused when navigating through the necessary papers, you both found yourselves ready to exchange vows in front of the altar with an officiant. Between you, jokes and side looks threatened to overshadow the seriousness of the situation as giggles burst into your conversation like an uncontrollable force.

"I vow to cherish every delicate fold of your paper origami creations, each one a testament to your boundless creativity. They will be more than mere artworks to me; they will be precious reminders of your genius, displayed lovingly throughout our home, filling it with the enchantment of your talent. And I promise to share this enchantment with the world, inviting others to marvel at your skill and spreading the joy you bring far and wide."

"I promise to take on any task that weighs heavy on your shoulders, willingly shouldering the burdens you bear. In fact, I'd gladly take on all the chores if you'd allow it, ensuring that you never have to lift a finger again."

"With each beat of my heart, in this life and beyond, I pledge my undying love to you. Every breath I take is dedicated to you, my beloved, filling the air with the essence of our bond."

"I swear to love you not only in this lifetime but in every lifetime that follows, my dearest Y/N Y/L/N-Gojo. Across the vast expanse of time, my love for you will endure, unwavering and eternal."

You smiled tenderly as you heard Gojo recite something from the bottom of his heart, and you could feel his love for you, like a warm hug. His remarks struck a deep chord, underscoring the extent of his love and dedication to you even in his intoxicated state.

You realized then that his commitments were promises carved into his very nature, connecting him to you in an unbreakable tie of love and devotion, and that his vows were more than just words.

“I vow to pour my heart and soul into every delicate fold of paper, infusing each origami masterpiece with the same love and reverence that I hold for you. While I'm thrilled for others to marvel at the beauty of my works, I humbly ask that you keep my struggles a secret, the moments when I nearly surrendered, for they are small sacrifices in comparison to the joy they bring to you.”

“Your willingness to take on all chores touches me deeply, but I vow to uphold our partnership equally. Let our home be a sanctuary where we both find solace and comfort. For it will be us against the world and not just you protecting me from the world anymore.”

“I solemnly swear to defy fate itself if it means spending eternity by your side. Today and in every lifetime to come, I will fight for us, refusing to accept anything less than a lifetime intertwined with yours.”

“Today, tomorrow, and for all the days that follow, I promise to love you more deeply than words can express. In every lifetime, in every incarnation, even if we’re not Satoru Gojo or Y/N Y/L/N, my heart will beat for you alone, endlessly and unconditionally.”

Joyous tears roll down your cheeks, blending with whispered vows and laughter. Your heartbeat rhythmically matches Gojo’s while the officiant explains the intricacies of marriage, since you both know deep down that this moment, which resulted from inebriated choices, is what you both genuinely want.

Between the vows, between the paperwork and the etiquette, your spoken words have ulterior motives. You know you'll never regret this union, even though it was sped up by a wild night of celebration.

Your souls become more and more entwined with each word spoken and gaze exchanged, bound together by an inexplicable love. Although the path to this point may not have been typical, there is no denying the extent of your dedication.

Standing hand in hand, you look at each other, and in that silent moment, you both admit the reality that this is where you belong. This marriage, which was created impulsively, is the best choice you have ever made.

The rest of the night becomes a whirlwind of joy and excitement. Sometime after the ceremony, you and Gojo share a deep, passionate kiss in front of the chapel where you exchanged vows. Cheers erupt from bystanders who witness the tender moment, adding to the magic of the evening.

As you make your way back to the hotel, laughter fills the air as you loudly hum various wedding tunes, your heart overflowing with happiness. You announce your newlywed status to anyone who catches your eye, spreading the contagious joy of your union to all who cross your path.

With each step, the world seems to sparkle a little brighter, and as you finally arrive at your hotel, hand in hand with your beloved, you know that this night will be etched in your memories forever. It's a celebration of love, spontaneity, and the beautiful journey that lies ahead as partners in life.

When the morning came, you sighed and grudgingly opened your eyes as the morning sunlight crept through the curtains, wincing at the brightness that seemed to intensify the pounding headache you were trying to nurse.

“What the fuck was last night?” You muttered, your voice hoarse as you struggled to piece together the events of the previous evening.

Blinking away the haze of sleep, you finally focused on the figure standing before you. Gojo stood there, clutching a handful of papers, his expression a mix of astonishment and disbelief

“Last night was this.” Gojo answered, passing the papers to you

With shaky hands, you accepted them, and the big words "Marriage Certificate" emblazoned at the top caught your attention right away. You were completely confused, but as you quickly reviewed the document, a wave of memories from the previous evening suddenly came back to you, helping you piece together the sequence of events that had led to this.

“We’re married.” You stated plainly, staring at Gojo with wide eyes as the reality sank in.

“Do you not want to be?” He asked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he turned towards the kitchen of your hotel room

“Of course I do! I just— I’m very confused.” You rambled nervously, feeling the need to clarify as you hurried to catch up with him

“I’m glad, because I’d love to marry you again.” Gojo declared, turning around with a mischievous grin. In his hand, he held a beautiful diamond engagement ring nestled in a red velvet box, the vivid blue of the diamond sparkling brilliantly under the room's light

“I think I remember most of what I said last night. So, Y/N Y/L/N, will you give me the honor of reciting it again, this time sober and in front of people that we care about?” Gojo asked, his voice filled with sincerity as he gracefully went down on one knee, presenting the ring to you with a heartfelt gaze

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you give me the honor of marrying you, again?”

You weren't even sure if you gave him a proper answer, your heart racing as you mirrored his gesture, sinking to your knees and pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss. It was a silent affirmation, one that spoke volumes without the need for words. In that moment, you knew your answer was clear.

You were more than ready to marry him again.

Sober, this time.

[akystaracer22]

Distrust Fall:

A leap of faith gone wrong, an eternal promise kept eternally. No matter how long it has been some things never truly change.

Notes

How to fail a trust fall: Step one

Vaggie's relationship with Adam is very complicated, but at the moment there is a lot of animosity and it shows.

Adam is of the opinion that Sorry doesn’t mean jack shit if you make the mistake again, so he just doesn’t apologise because he thinks he’ll just fuck up again so there’s no point.

The hotel needs a licensed therapist at this point dear lord.

Alastor still isn’t over the whole “Radio is fucking dead” thing.

If there is one thing that Adam knows off by heart, it’s the names of animals scientific or otherwise. That was the guys job once upon a time and assuming he doesn’t know that stuff is the true quickest way to piss him off. He’s also really good with animals which pisses off Anthony because Fat Nuggets *likes* Adam and it drives the sinner up a wall.

Alastor and Lucifer are on the ground. Angel, Husk, Charlie, Vaggie, and Adam are on the roof.

Alastor was going to let him get a cm from the ground before catching him dw.

Lucifer used to be friends with Adam in the garden because I live for that sweet sweet friends to enemies tragedy.

Adam really does not like people staring at his face, it’s a mild form of scopophobia caused by his time in heaven with people always giving him shit for how he looked, particularly his facial features (Yes I drew on everyone calling him ugly and average on twitter and shit). He used the mask to get around it, that way people couldn’t actually see what he looked like.

This was originally 1260 but then I got an idea that blew this out by 500 words lol.

The graveyard with be elaborated on in a future connected one shot.

This is officially a fully fledged AU

Regarding Adam's claws, they're gold to combat the greyness of his palette, but also as a nod to Midas, the arrogant king who's touched turned everything to gold. Angelic blood is also gold so if you want you can interpret it as having blood on his hands.

Fingerless gloves because I thing they're neat.

I based Lucifer's wings off of duck wings!

Also Lucifer's angelic appearance was based on space. I heard Sera call Charlie "Daughter of the Morning Star" and I went feral.

He has a full shifting night sky in his wings, clothes, and hat.

Angels have white pupils now I don't make the rules.

References saved my life.

Word count: 1725

(Comic and fic under the cut! Click for better quality)

@irregular-child

Adam leaned away from the edge as the wind drifted through his wings, keenly aware of the fact that his wings wouldn’t break his fall and he did not in fact trust jack shit in hell to break it except the ground.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?”

“I’m with princess perfect this is a fucking death sentence,” Adam agreed, a little reluctantly because it was still the princess of hell, “You’re trying to fucking kill me.”

Vaggie smirked, because of course she did because she was trying to kill him, he wasn’t that dense, and just shrugged, “I mean, worked for me didn’t it?”

“That wasn’t even a fucking trust fall that was to get you to fucking fly and you know it! Fucking bitch,” The first man scowled and tried to step away from the edge, the crack whore of an arachnid immediately shoving him back up, “Would you fuck off?!”

“Would you stop being a dick?”

“Would you stop sucking them?”

The white jumping spider stared at him for a long moment and Vaggie stepped away from him for once, great! Cool! One person was leaving him alone and soon a second one will!

Great! About fucking time they got the message-

-------]

Lucifer paced nervously around Dazzle’s statue; this was a terrible idea. Having Adam go through a trust fall this early was going to end in disaster one way or another.

The main issue being nobody liked Adam and wouldn’t care if he fell. Hell, Charlies girlfriend has already tried to kill Adam off for good multiple times since he got here!

This was going to be a mess; Alastor was supposed to be catching Adam but he was just standing there looking completely unprepared and-

“Are you going to get ready or not.” Lucifer snapped at the radio demon, wings flicking out behind him in agitation.

“Oh, I have no intention of catching him.”

Lucifer froze, his tail stilling before lashing behind him as he turned on the deer-eared sinner, “What.”

“You heard me.”

“Oh, I heard you alright, and I think you should try that again.”

“And why are you getting so worked up, hm?” The sinner hummed, sneering down at the king, “Last I checked, the first man was your enemy after he tried to kill your own daughter.”

“I-” Lucifer paused, then scowled because Alastor was right. Why was he getting so worked up over this. This was Adam they were talking about. Adam who was crass and rude and cold to everyone. Adam, who would rather sit in his room all day than even look at any of them. Adam who was…

“…Luci, do they all hate me?”

…

“I can see why they left me for you.”

…

“It is good to see you again my friend! Come, much has changed since your last visit!”

… Adam who was so much more than who he was now. Who was probably the only person left in hell that remembered Eden.

Damnit.

“That’s none of your business you son of a bitch,” The fallen angel snapped at the cannibal, eliciting nothing more than a growing grin from the bastard.

Not a day went by in hell where Lucifer wished that this wasn’t his circus and that the sinners weren’t his monkeys.

Someone screamed above him.

The seraphim whipped his head up, eyes widening as he registered Adam twisting the air as he was shoved off the roof by Angel Dust.

Fear struck his heart like an exorcists blade when the first man tried to use his wings to glide, only for a single wing beat to send him into a spiral hurtling towards the ground.

He caught Adams eye for a single moment before it was obscured by his good wing, the man was terrified. He didn’t know sinners reformed after death and despite it all. Lucifer would never wish someone to experience falling from their death after quite literally falling from heaven.

Not even on Adam.

Something in his heart spurred the king into action, kicking off the ground as his wings snapped open to catch the air. A single beat of his wings and he was already well off the ground.

Lucifer reached a hand up for Adam as the fallen angel reached out to him in kind, panic written across both their faces at the idea of a horrible accident.

Lucifer’s wings moved the air one more time and-

“And… you will catch me?”

Lucifer laughed softly, a gentle chiming sound from where he stood behind Gods first man. He was trying to show him a game Lucifer and his kin would play from time to time amongst the spires of heaven.

The game was simple, one angel was to stand up high with their wings folded and fall. Then the other angel was to catch them. It was supposed to build trust, not to mention it was a delight in and of itself.

Standing amongst the grasses of Eden, Lucifer saw no reason not to share this game with Adam. He’s already grown fond of the way that Gods creation would go out of his way to show the angel what he’d been up to since his last visit.

“Be not afraid my friend!” Lucifer’s wings spread quietly to punctuate his point, divine magic threading his words, The Voice ensuring that the first man would hear and believe him.

“No matter how far you fall, I shall always be there to catch you.”

Lucifer wrapped his arms securely around the fallen angel as his wings curled around wing and man alike, bracing himself as the added weight as they both fell together.

It’s funny, it reminded him of when Adam first fell, a fiery ball that could have almost been mistaken as a shooting star had Lucifer not known better.

They hid the ground with a slam and the fallen seraphim had to bite back a shriek as his wings took the brunt of the force. They’d be left aching for a while.

Lucifer grunted as he pushed Adam off of him, sitting up and folding his wings in, allowing them to slip out of existence while they healed, he definitely didn’t want to do that again.

He slowly got to his feet while the first man got his bearings, dusting himself off and rubbing his shoulders to try and alleviate the pain.

“Why the fuck did you save me?”

Lucifer jerked and looked down at Adam from where he was glaring up at him, a note of confusion held carefully in his gaze before it dropped.

“I-”

“Well, isn’t this quite a surprise!”

Lucifer’s expression shot into a scowl as he rounded on the radio demon very blatantly interrupting the moment. The bastard just grinned and stared down at the both of them.

From the corner of his eyes Lucifer noted Adam’s good wing hitching up instinctively to cover his face from the demons gaze before dropping.

Lucifer turned his attention back to the radio demon with a glare that could melt steel, “You were going to let him fall,”

“I was going to do no such thing,”

“You just said-!”

“I said nothing you just assumed I was going to do nothing at all!”

“Listen here you!” Lucifer was just off again by the main doors opening and the other’s all barrelling out at the commotion.

Lost in the sudden onslaught of attention and having to field Alastor’s snarky comments, Anthony’s suggestive remarks, and Charlie’s concern, he didn’t see Adam flee the scene.

It wasn’t until much later that he was able to recognize the first man’s absence, searching the hotel to see if Adam was okay.

He found him at the graveyard, sitting among the many tombstones for the exorcists slain in the battle that caused Adam to fall.

Lucifer paused at the entrance to the burial ground, watching Adam sit there facing away from him for what felt like an eternity.

Despite the dead being gone, the king of hell still felt like the exorcists weapons were pointed at him, a warning that if he made one wrong move they would rise from their graves to protect their leader, to avenge him, to strike Lucifer down in an instant.

The once-angel of the morning star carefully stepped away from the cemetery, making sure he didn’t break the silence. Even if Adam wanted to be disturbed, he wasn’t the right person to do it, not in this place.

Besides, he still had his own thoughts to sort through, like why in the name of the divine he saved Adam when he would have survived regardless. He would have been fine even if he did hit the ground unimpeded so why-

Lucifer grimaced as the answer stuck to him like a parasite, he knew damn well why he saved him. It was the same stupid reason he preened Adams wings for him, the same reason he treats the first man’s wing rot and the exact same reason he made that deal with Adam after he fell.

He was attached.

Stupids horribly foolishly, Lucifer still cared for Adam even after everything.

By the stars he beat Adam within an inch of his life! Adam tried to kill his daughter!

But emotions were hardly logical. They weren’t logical when he fell for Lilith in the garden and taught her and Adam both The Voice, they weren’t logical when he freed Eve, and they weren’t logical now.

Lucifer cared for Adam, even if by all logic he should hate the man.

“Dad?”

Lucifer looked up to meet his daughters eyes, a small smile letting her know he was okay, “Hey there Duckie.”

Charlie’s expression softened at the nickname even if he still looked concerned, “Dad… are you sure you’re okay?”

“If I’m not now, I will be, so stop worrying about little old me Char-char,” Lucifer chuckled, “However… Adams in the graveyard if you want to talk to him, he seems like he needs some company right now.”

He made his exit quickly after that, he knew what Charlie would do, it was in her nature to help people, it was what made her so special.

But Lucifer, he helped people once, and now… he had a new person he could help again.

And he might just know where to start.

[teamannabeth]

lore drop incoming

yo ok i have no idea if anyone remembers who i am but ya boy may have flown as close to the sun as possible. as part of my grad school program i am working with a lot of university archives, and this one just so happens to have all of uncle rick's old material related to lightning thief

things i have learned so far that could have been canon (looking at a autumn 2003 draft):

--grover originally was supposed to know how to play "I Want It That Way" by the Backstreet Boys on his reed pipes, but the editor suggested Rick use a 'even more recent teen band,' which is where i'm guessing the Hillary Duff, "So Yesterday" line came from in the final copy. we could have had boy band satyr, and now i want art of that

--after getting the Toilet Treatment (tm) by Clarisse and her friends, Percy is led by Luke in a traditional CHB welcome ritual called "Kiss the Boar" -- all those that refuse to play get an all-expenses paid trip into Long Island Sound. very Animal House, ended up not making the final copy

--rick wrote the first draft of the lightning thief under the author name Ransom Reese, as to not distract readers from his already-established and award-winning adult mystery writing career

--going off of that point, the original draft started with a letter "Dear Mortal Reader" by Mr. Reese, the table of contents, and then a letter from percy thanking Mr. Reese for his contributions in typing out the story, which has been dictated to him by percy (bc dyslexia). this idea had promise, and it became the warning percy gives to the reader at the very beginning of chapter one, even if percy ended up being the narrator rather than Ransom Reese

--most people already know this, but the lightning thief came about because rick wanted to help soothe his son Haley's aversion to reading by merging it with Haley's love of greek mythology. Rick told Haley the story of Percy Jackson over three nights, Haley asked him to write it down, and a year later Rick had a manuscript

--in this draft, ares just keeps that mf thing on him?? it's always a pistol, no bronze sword. just like...a glock. he flashes it around and does whatever he wants, and i think he's actually closer to the portrayal that adam copeland gave ares

--percy was originally supposed to be known as kelp brain by annabeth

--the original version of the Waterland scene references 9/11 through a water ride named 911X2, a line which was cut

--one of the original titles was simply "son of the sea god"

--puffin books uk held a competition, in the promotional period before the lightning thief was released, for a pair of winged red converse high-top shoes (i swear i'm not kidding) with a white H painted on the sides of the uppers. someone, somewhere in england (unless they sold them) is the owner of the only officially-licensed copy of luke's Maia shoes

--this isn't lore but i got to hold a sword they used on the set of the movies, a deck of mythomagic cards, and a signed US first edition copy (!!)

--possibly will reblog this tomorrow if and when i find out more

[such-expensive-mistakes]

halfa!Steph AU (part 1)

I'm still working on the Superpham AU but I couldn't stop thinking about this idea.

-----

Once upon a time, there was a girl who thought she could be a hero. And then she died. She died slowly and painfully and steeped in guilt over having accidentally set off a gang war that destroyed the city. It's a neat little story about hubris and knowing your place and why Batman is always right.

Except she didn't. Die, that is. She flatlined on the operating table and Leslie faked her death. And when that girl came back, she put on a costume again and became the third Batgirl. It's a heartwarming story about stubbornness and learning to rely on others and proving Batman wrong.

The truth, Stephanie thinks, is somewhere in between.

When she talks about having died, people treat as— not as a joke, the pain is still too raw for that, but as an exaggeration. Dramatic license.

Sometimes Steph thinks that's all it is.  But she feels like she died.  She dreams about it sometimes.  Not just Black Mask, although he does haunt far too many of her dreams, but something else.  Something in-between.

It's probably just the trauma.  That's what Leslie says, when Stephanie finally asks her.

Stephanie doesn't ask Leslie about her newfound strength, or about how sharp her senses have become.  

You can't go through something like Stephanie did and come out unchanged.  That's what Babs says, and she would know.  Steph doesn't think they're thinking about the same kind of changes, though.

-----

Stephanie lands on a rooftop and looks down at the white van parked below.  It's not a particularly notable vehicle, except for the occupants.  

"What are they doing?" Steph asks.

"I don't know."  Babs sounds frustrated, and no wonder.  There aren't many people who can keep Oracle out of their systems, and Steph wouldn't have judged these guys to be among their ranks.  "I'll keep trying to get through their firewalls, but I'm flying blind here.  Keep an eye on them, but be careful."

"You know me," Steph says.  "Careful is my middle name."

Babs doesn't even bother to muster up a sarcastic response to that, which is how Steph knows she's preoccupied.

These guys have been running all over Gotham for the past few weeks.  They're dressed in immaculate white suits and carrying unfamiliar weapons, and they seem to be taking some kind of readings on unfamiliar instruments.  None of that is a crime, but it's suspicious, and Oracle's inability to find out any more about them is even more suspicious.

And that means they're officially Steph's problem.

The men are doing the same thing they've been doing the last few times Steph has watched them.  It's not particularly exciting.  

"Batgirl," Oracle says.

"Please tell me there's a robbery or something that needs my attention," Steph replies.  "These guys are so boring."

"Sorry.  Do you think you can get one of their gadgets for me?  I want a better look."

"Can do, boss."  

Stephanie carefully climbs down to street level, staying out of sight.  She's gotten a lot sneakier since her not-death.  She tells herself it's all of her training and practice, finally paying off, but regardless of the cause, the guys in white have no chance of spotting her.  

They're standing near the front of the van, arguing about something.

"The apparition was spotted here last night," one says.

"That doesn't mean it's going to return!" another responds. 

Sounds like they're looking for something in particular.  Which Steph and Babs had already guessed, but it's nice to have confirmation.

Steph slips toward the back of the van, which is wide open.  Not smart, especially in Gotham, but she's got a feeling these guys aren't from Gotham.  

The inside of their van reminds her of a sci-fi movie; everything is blindingly white and chrome, with glowing green accents.  And lots and lots of those weapons.  Whoever they are, they clearly have a nice sized budget.

Steph grabs one of the guns and a handheld instrument like the one the guys outside are waving around, but as soon as she does, all the instruments the guys in front of the van are holding start going wild.  

"There it is!" one of them yells.  They all start shooting at her, which is how Steph learns that they're using some kind of fancy laser guns.  Because regular guns just aren't space age enough for these guys.

That's Steph's cue to get out.  She grapples back to the rooftop, just barely avoiding getting hit by the laser guns.

It’s easy enough to lose them from the rooftops.  At Oracle’s direction, she makes her way back to Firewall.  She tugs her mask off and hands the stolen tech over to Babs.

“The’re looking for something,” she says.  “An apparition.”

Babs hums in acknowledgment.  “Hopefully these will have some answers.”  She switches on the— scanner?  Steph’s pretty sure that’s its function, anyway.  It starts beeping wildly.

Steph jumps back, startled.  The beeping stops.

“Well,” Babs says.  “I think we have an idea what they were looking for.”

[thydungeongal]

This is not my entire perfect Vampire: the Masquerade soundtrack but a snippet of it + my reasoning.

First of all, it's best understood that Vampire: the Masquerade is a really 90s goth ass game. So of course, to set a baseline, we're simply going to crib the most 90s goth ass movie soundtrack onto this: The Crow (1994) has one of the most banging soundtracks ever so let's just take it in its entirety. It's got bangers like "Burn" by The Cure, Nine Inch Nails' cover of Joy Division's "Dead Souls," and like in general it just kicks ass.

Second of all, I'm not a prescriptivist when it comes to goth music, although I definitely used to be that guy (I got better and became a girl). Most of The Matrix soundtrack wouldn't qualify as goth according to purists, but for the sake of our trenchcoats and leather 90s goth it definitely works. Also, it includes the best remix ever made of Rob Zombie's "Dragula" by Hot Rod Herman and that song absolutely fucks.

Thirdly, and this one's a bit of a reach: anyone who's played Vampire: the Masquerade - Bloodlines will tell you that the song that plays in the main menu of the game sounds eerily similar to Massive Attack's "Angel," and if they don't tell you that it's because they haven't listened to Massive Attack's "Angel." Anyway, the similarity is due to the fact that they were supposed to license the song "Angel," by Massive Attack, for the soundtrack, but the deal fell through, and the game's composer just made their own legally distinct version of that song.

Anyway the reason I'm staying as far away as possible from the official Vampire: the Masquerade soundtracks is that even though they're extremely 90s trad goth I feel like they fail to sell the juxtaposition of gothic horror and modern urban decay, which the aforementioned songs all exemplify really well imo.

[fewwawihater]

wait whats the tea w kimi and paul aron

in short you can skip over to 2024-03, but i wanted to put together a rough timeline for those interested (≈3 people on here lmao):

2017: kimi antonelli (11) was scouted by the mercedesf1 junior team (mjt) and introduced to toto wolff

2018: paul aron (14) won the CIK-FIA OK Junior Karting European Championship and was officially signed into mjt. so was kimi, who won several WSK titles and was offered a one-year sponsorship

2019: paul stepped up to a full season of italian f4 with prema but finished 3rd behind hauger and his prema teammate, and 7th in ADAC f4. kimi won more karting titles with the rosberg racing academy, so merc offered him a 10-year contract and he got full sponsorship for the 2020 season

2020: mjt decided to move paul up the feeder series ladder anyways, and he finished 11th in the renault eurocup (the old freca). kimi won the CIK OK european title but fractured his leg and arm in the world final

2021: paul finished 3rd in freca. kimi was recovering from his injury so he only did three italian f4 races with prema

2022: mjt put paul through another year of freca in which he finished 3rd behind his prema teammate, but let him compete in formula regional asian as well in which he finished 8th. i get that, at this point paul was probably already thinking he should be sent to f3 instead. and he was not too happy with repeating the 3rd. so at prema's year end party (or maybe in the 2023 one i cant remember) he said something like i wish the team championship trophy is my driver championship trophy instead. last year i was consistent but didnt have as many wins as my temmates, so this year i got the most wins, but still dino got the title (because the team fumbled some of my races)

kimi won both the f4 adac and f4 italian titles. broke his wrist in the fia motorsports games qualifying, won the final, but missed the winter test

and because paul and kimi were the only mercedes juniors in the team they filmed quite a lot of cute content together as a duo (the hatewatch was getting too serios i almost forgot about all the prema media💀) pretty sure their trainers knew each other too.

2023: everybody thought kimi would move up to f3 but he was sent to formula regionals. won both the freca and frmec titles thereby earning enough f1 super license points. paul got 3rd in f3 behind his prema teammate again (i swear all this man ever did was finished third). he considered himself worthy of the merc-sponsored f2 seat because the top 6 in that year's championship all moved up

2023-09: merc announced that kimi would be moving up to f2 with prema and the other seat was already taken by ollie

2023-10: kimi already won his freca title but with a last lap overtake in the last race he won the title for the team as well. paul was also there because his brother ralf aron, who's a team manager at prema, was racing GT the same weekend. he went to greet kimi before the race start

all of the above was honestly just to show why paul thought he should move up and why merc wasn't so sure about that. i am assuming paul felt robbed regarding the f2 situation, and he did the logical thing to deviate from mjt's plan for him by doing the final 2024 f2 race with trident. i am not sure when exactly he left but the announcement came out late in november that he would no longer be a merc junior driver. he subsequently signed with hitech f2 (team principle oli oakes). he liked some tweets saying prema and mjt failed him. should have promoted him instead

2023 post-season: kimi left a final like on paul's ig? they might have talked to each other at the award ceremony. some fans asked paul to sign a merc shirt to which he said you know i hate those guys

2024 pre-season: lewis's ferrari move. toto wolff couldnt keep his mouth shut so kimi was put under immense pressure as the to-be 'lewis hamilton replacement'. media cooked up rumors about kimi going to williams. prema flopped. so people started to call toto crazy and kimi antonelli the wonderkid a big joke

2024-03: bahrain: ollie in a ferrari. australia: kimi qualified p2, reverse grid for sprint and moved up to p4, spun on his own. vershoor took avoidant action and also spun. vershoor clipped paul's front wing. paul was beyond frustrated after the race, and said on socials that he really disagreed with the action of some driver. went on twitter to like more hate posts against kimi. said to his fans in his ig subscriber groupchat that he would have won the race if not for kimi antonelli doing his wonderkid thing. feature race, almost pushed kimi sideway to the wall. kimi avoided it so fia investigated but said no further action. kimi finished p4 in the feature race but paul was on the podium.

before the summer break: hitech was doing good and paul got more p2/p3s, leading the championship. at imola where colapinto overtook him rather agressively on the last straight he was so pissed off that he just walked off the podium after getting the trophy, so no champange no group photo whatsoever. then throughout the first half of the f2 season the narrative was just mercedes sacked the wrong driver. give paul an f1 seat. more false rumors on kimi replacing logan sargeant. people saying kimi's an even bigger joke. kimi should be in f3 intead. kimi's gonna be the next logan sargeant. stuff like that. kimi got his first wins in f2 before paul. some weekends with scarcely any points

after the summer break: oli oakes moved up to alpine. hitech began to flop. kimi turned 18, debut, spun, contract announced and some fans didnt really need him to turn 18 to start their hatewatching anyway. turned out colapinto would replace logan. i think paul might have liked one or two posts in between but definitely not the announcement itself. no interactions from kimi.

2024-11: they were at the qatar fanzone, sitting like

host ollie kimi paul jak isack. (fun stuff: paul and jak are best friends with ollie because they've more or less always raced in the same categories with prema growing up. as for kimi you can go to anybody's bearnelli tag for this just not mine) basically ollie moved his chair towards kimi so they began to sit like

host olliekimi paul jak isack.

paul was doing a collab with parcferme (a feeder series media account that took a lot of the f2 driver photos) so he got a couple merch he wanna throw to the fans to advertise. but the host was just talking to ollie and kimi. paul: there are three other drivers on the stage let us talk too

2024-12: very dark month for kimi and me i am not gonna elaborate... paul finished 3rd in the championship (AGAIN) and got announced as the alpine reserve (not surprised considering his connection to oli). turned out he might have a shot at f1 afterall but then alpine signed colapinto lol

paul seemed to be liking kimi's posts idk man but you can go through the aronelli tag (it's very disorganized you've been warned)

[gomapda]

sidewalks we crossed [side B: him.] (pt. 1)

this is broken into parts because tumblr has a limit of 1000 blocks.

side A found here!

author's note:

oh goodness. it's been a while.

i really did intend on posting this soon after i published the first part, but then life kind of got in the way. i graduated from grad school, moved to south korea, and have been here since. i'm still a carat, and i really do think about this fanfiction all the time, mainly because this story is truly me bearing my soul to the internet and my friends who have access to the original google doc.

this one is a lot less edited and looked over, but it's because this portion of the fic reminds me of something i'm still in deep grief for. so, for those of you who will read this, i was originally going to have a third installment, but i think i'll leave it at this two. it feels good and true to leave it here.

this was supposed to be published yesterday on seventeen's anni, but i was busy spending time with my korean host family who i've not been able to see that often since moving out :')

maybe i'll write short stories including these two because they are so special to me, but this main story has come to a close. the real final push was jihoon releasing "what kind of future?" officially, the very song that inspired this fic, in honor of his beautiful friend and human, moonbin. bin-ah, i hope you're sailing among the stars and looking over all of those who love you and who you love in return.

and to you, who may be reading this, thank you for being here.

✧⋆°｡☾☼꙳ ੭ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ‧ ⨯ ς(>‿<.). ⁺ ✦ * . ˚ ⨯ ੭ * ‧☼☽⋆｡°✧

tagging @fiantomartell since you asked me to whenever i published this. it's been a long while, but.

pairing: lee jihoon/woozi (seventeen) x f!reader

genre: romance, fluff

summary: an accidental like, an off-chance comment, a purposeful message. you were in an unrequited love with your childhood best friend and decided to run away from him and your feelings and years later you find yourself in the same city with the same feelings when he stalks your instagram.

rating: 13+

length: 30k (bro WHAT LOL)

tags: idol!jihoon, childhood friend!reader, unrequited love (but not really), reconnection through instagram, this is just different scenes pieced together (including a ton of flashbacks), reader’s nicknames are all bug-themed, reader has depression and it manifests as suicidal ideation sometimes, this is basically real life (aka seventeen exists and debuted 150526), but the years are a little bit off for the trainee period, jihoon left busan later and trained for shorter for the sake of my story hehe, cursing, pining, mamamoo + ateez are the besties of reader, member x member pairings, jihoon and reader are both dumbasses, reader is extremely book smart but has one brain cell when it comes to romantic feelings, jihoon writes music like he’s been divorced 12x, word genius lee jihoon, idk how doctoral degrees work, i only got my masters and it was a non-thesis track lol, also idk how trainee auditions work either, miss communication is a lady we all know too well, super cute soft shit too tho tbh, no beta we die like men, i spent 5 hours trying to format this for tumblr and i’m still unsure

inspired by “drivers license” by olivia rodrigo and “what kind of future?” by woozi

inspo spotify playlist found here!

──────────────────

side b: him.

The rapid beating in his chest drowned out the slam of the door behind him as he rushed down the stairs of your home, desperate to just get away as soon as possible. Your parents weren’t home, so he didn’t have to worry about looking like an absolute fool in front of them.

You knew. You fucking knew.

You knew how much he was in love with you and this was your way of rejecting him.

He was stupid, so stupid. If he just put his feelings aside then you wouldn’t leave. You wouldn’t have to leave. But this was all his stupid hormones and brain chemistry and his fucking heart. He knew that it wouldn’t pan out. You never saw him as anything more than just a dear friend, a brother. You made that clear.

Since the beginning, your pinkies intertwined promised a forever, but you both had different ideas of what that was. And he was stupid to believe there was a chance.

He ran.

He ran so far and so hard that he couldn’t make sense of left or right or forward or backward. All he knew was that he needed to get away from you.

But he couldn’t.

He passed by Old Man Park’s home with a winding tree you were convinced held fae people that would only come out when the entire town was asleep (there was a 50km radius, you said).

He ran by the rusted bars of the playground you two snuck off to instead of going to cram school where you attempted a flip and promptly landed on the crown of your head, wood chips tangling themselves into your hair, tears mixed with laughter and pain streaming down your cheeks.

The library where you would spend more time in the children’s section than anywhere else because you would practice your ‘reading voice’ for your future children’s bedtime stories.

The baseball field where the realization that he was in love with you hit him harder than any fastball pitch ever could.

You were everywhere.

And he needed to get away.

He went to your house to share the news of passing the trainee audition, that was the whole purpose of seeing you.

However, that wasn’t the only thing he planned on confessing.

If you asked him to stay, he would have.

But instead, you rejected him before he even got one word out.

So, he packed his bags up for Seoul, a place untarnished by you. A city that not even your light could reach, no matter how radiant you were.

──────────────────

Years later.

“Jihoon-ah, aren’t you working too hard?”

He glanced up at Jeonghan who was probably let into the studio by Bumzu. Jihoon glanced at the clock to notice a bright 4:02am glaring back at him. “Ah, hyung. I didn’t even notice the time.”

“I figured. I brought you some food.”

Jihoon glanced down at the two bags in his hands. His eyes narrowed. “Hyung, I don’t eat as much as you think I do.”

“I’ve seen you eat three full meals in one sitting. Get away from your desk and we can eat.”

Jihoon sighed before he reluctantly left the seat he hardly moved from for over seven hours. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Jeonghan replied happily, snapping the wooden chopsticks into two. He started chewing on one of the danmuji, the sound of its crunch reverberating in the studio. “Oh. And also, the wi-fi’s down at the dorm, so.”

“So, you’re here to steal my bandwidth.”

“I brought you food. I paid my toll.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “Alright, sure.”

“So, are you in the composing stage or the writing lyrics stage?”

“...Lyrics.”

“Hm. What are you writing about? Or rather, who are you writing about?”

Jihoon stabbed the grilled fish. “...You know who.”

“She’s really got a grip on you, huh.”

Jihoon grunted in response. Obviously.

Jeonghan continued, “I saw that one of the local newsletters interviewed the group home that she volunteers at. She was voted as volunteer of the year. Again. She smiles with her entire body. Seems like a good person.”

The younger of the two picked away at the fish, not bringing it onto his makeshift plate. “Yeah.”

“Do you still stalk her on Instagram?”

Jihoon let out a loud sigh.

“That’s a yes, then.”

“You know it’s not as bad as it used to be. I used to check, like, every few weeks, but now it’s gone down to just a couple times a year.”

“She hasn’t blocked you yet?”

“Hah. I don’t think she even knows that my account is reactivated.”

“Well, you never needed to reactivate before. Her Instagram used to be public. The rest of the members and I used to scroll through wondering how a bright girl like her could be associated with such a deadpan guy like you.”

“Wow. Thanks, hyung.”

Jeonghan merely brushed off Jihoon’s sarcasm, already used to it. “She only made it private this last year, right? Since she complains about her program being out to kill her on her story. To be honest, I’m surprised she didn’t realize you’ve been watching her stories.”

“I don’t think she checks who watches her story since she has over a few thousand followers.”

“She attracts people, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, she always has.”

“Can I see her profile again?”

“You’re not going to do something weird, right?”

“Ey, Jihoon-ah.”

“That makes me really not want to.”

“Ey.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes before pulling out his phone. He opened Instagram and clicked on the “Search” feature and saw your profile appear at the top without even needing to type anything. He signaled for Jeonghan to scoot down the couch so he could sit down and handle the phone in his own hands. Jeonghan peered over his shoulder as he scrolled through your profile.

“Oh, is that Japan?”

“Yeah.”

Jihoon clicked on your post.

But it wasn’t opening.

So, he clicked again. And then again.

And his phone decided to catch up with his thumb’s movements.

The once white heart was now red.

His grip loosened on the device of betrayal and it clattered to the ground. “Oh shit.”

Jeonghan bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. He placed his hand on Jihoon’s shoulder and squeezed slightly. “I’m sorry, but. This is karma for not letting me see her profile on my own.”

“Hyung. Hyung. What should I do?”

“Just unlike it? I’m pretty sure that Instagram doesn’t send a notification as long as you unlike it before she sees it.”

“How do you know?”

Jeonghan shrugged. “Jihoon. It’s not the end of the world if she happens to see it. If she blocks you, then you know, and you end up writing another heartbreak masterpiece—” Jihoon couldn’t even appreciate the comment. “—but. Who knows what’ll happen?”

“...”

“Uh. I’ll just… do it for you, then.”

Jeonghan picked up the phone, facing the screen towards Jihoon, the camera scanning his frozen features to unlock and Jeonghan tapped the red heart to empty it again. He placed the phone back on the younger man’s thigh, but Jihoon remained in the same position as earlier, eyes glazed.

“Jihoon-ah.”

“Hyung.”

“Let’s just wait, yeah? The food’s getting cold. So, let’s finish eating.”

“...Okay.”

──────────────────

Jihoon picked at the rice bowl in front of him, his mind light years away, chest filled with concern for the future. Was auditioning for a company worth it? Even if he started the process now, wouldn’t it still take a while to even hear back?

“Jihoonie.”

His heart constricted once he heard the voice of the person who made him unsure. He caught you blinking owlishly at him. “Y/N.”

“Hrmm. You seem quite a bit down, my friend. You’ve barely touched your first bowl of rice. It’s concerning.”

“Just thinking.”

“Oh, don’t do that. We know that usually ends badly for people.”

“Well, someone between the two of us has to have brain cells.”

“I pride myself in simultaneously never thinking and also being the top student of our school.”

“You work miracles, Y/N.”

“Hey, now I know you’re down because you didn’t call me a flipping nerd. Your best moods are usually accompanied by your worst words.”

“You make me seem like an asshole. You slander me to other people, don’t you?”

“Of course. I can’t have them know just how utterly wonderful and fantastic you are. I’d rather you have that butthole reputation if I get to keep my best friend all to myself. I’m a selfish lady, you know.”

Did you even know how much your words affected him?

“You’re neither selfish nor a lady.”

“Oh, but I am. I’m a selfish lady who’s only checking on you because I refuse to be wrought with worry for the rest of the day. So, come on, Jihoonie. Let’s go play darts.”

“Last time we played you almost stabbed my hand.”

“Your fault for reaching for the board when I was about to own you. Come on. Let’s go. I’ll make a pinky promise with you.”

Jihoon snorted. “Of what?”

“I promise to do whatever you want if you win.”

Jihoon scrunched up his nose in response. You were always so naive with him, trusting him wholly. But a part of him was grateful that you did. He merely sighed and stood up.

He might as well use your promise to his advantage.

──────────────────

“She didn’t block me.”

“Oh, really?” Jeonghan glanced up at Jihoon who suddenly broke the silence.

“Who’s she?” Soonyoung’s ears perked up.

“You know. His firefly,” Jeonghan replied.

“What? Why would she block you?” Seungkwan directed his question at Jihoon, who was simply trying to edit lyrics in his own studio, which was being occupied by several SEVENTEEN members.

“Jihoon accidentally liked one of her posts last night, but we unliked it. Oh, sorry. I unliked it because he was completely frozen.”

“The notification probably didn’t go through,” Seungkwan supplied. “I’m pretty sure unliking a post makes the notification go away.”

Jihoon had set his phone aside earlier in hopes of not constantly checking it. His mind may be unsteady, but he was always self-disciplined.

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Soonyoung glance down at his own phone screen that buzzed a second prior.

“Oh. Jihoon-ah, she liked one of your posts.”

Before his mind could even catch up, Jihoon flung himself to his phone, his self-discipline be damned. He frantically clicked on the notification and it redirected him to his Instagram page, where he saw your name among the list of likers. He wasn’t sure whether his heart was racing or whether it stopped completely because the buzzing in his ears overtook all of his other senses.

He even ignored the boys’ laughter around him.

“Is… Is social media actually facilitating real connection right now? Are we about to prove all of the ahjussi and ahjumma wrong? Are we about to witness history?”

“Seungkwan-ah.”

“Sorry, Jeonghan-hyung.”

“She… She didn’t block me. She saw me. What is this? What do I do? Do I just ignore it? Or should I let her know I saw it?”

Soonyoung snorted. “Yah, I’ve never seen Jihoon this nervous for any performance ever.”

“His heart’s probably racing more than it did the Golden Disc Awards.”

“WHAT DO I DO.”

“Jihoon-hyung,” Seungkwan started. “I think the first thing you need to do is breathe.”

So, he did. In. Out. In. Out.

After what seemed like years, Soonyoung spoke up. “So… Are you gonna message her?”

Jihoon sat in contemplation for a moment before he decidedly shook his head. “No. It’s time to write a song.”

Soonyoung’s eyebrows rose at that. “You’re gonna go back to work after all of this?”

Jihoon bit his lip. “No. This is gonna be a solo song.”

The corners of Jeonghan’s lips curled up at his dongsaeng. “I’m sure it’ll be beautiful.”

Jihoon nodded almost mindlessly.

Everything about her usually is.

──────────────────

“Jihoonie~ Wake up~”

He groaned loudly under the bed covers.

He heard you snicker, the only warning before you landed with a loud thump as he let out an “oof!” from beneath you.

“Get off me. You weigh like a million pounds.”

Rather than listening, you spread your limbs and trapped the adolescent boy beneath you, nuzzling further into the outer casing of his cocoon. “Nope. Just yesterday you yelled at me for not eating enough when you flung me off of the couch by accident because I stole the remote. So.”

“I’m suffocating. You’re killing your best friend.”

“Oh, but to die with a beautiful girl on top of you, isn’t that the way to go?”

There was a moment of silence where Jihoon contemplated catapulting your entire being off of his bed before, “Pretty sure that’s your dream, you damn pervert,” came his muffled reply.

“Huh. You might be right there.”

“Get! Off!”

His hand easily found your weak point between your first and second rib and you cried out as you toppled down onto his bedroom floor. He emerged from the confines of his sheets with hair sticking up every which way.

You grinned lazily up at his disheveled state and he glared right back at you. “Why are you in my bedroom?”

“Because your mom said to come and get you! We’re going to Muju today, remember? In time for the Firefly Festival!”

“Right. It’s your yearly family reunion.”

“Yes, I will become one with the bugs. My fursona will arise again. Or is it bugsona?”

“Is a buggy better than a furry?”

“You’re asking me to choose between two evils, my dear Jihoonie. Come on, get up. I’m excited to spend an entire weekend with our family.”

It was way too early for his mind to whirr as fast as it did at the simple implication of ‘our’. “Alright, firefly. Get out of my room so I can get ready.”

“Okay! I’ll go help Mama downstairs.”

You were committed to calling Jihoon’s mom as Mama instead of Eomma, as the latter held a tone for you that was nothing less than stressful.

Jihoon smiled at your joy, but stopped when he noticed you freeze in place. “...What?”

You shifted the weight in your feet before speaking. “Mm. Just had a thought. With a smile like yours, who would ever need the summertime?”

You grinned at him while his heart stopped. You always spoke without a care in the world; never carefully crafting your thoughts before speaking them aloud. You were spontaneous. Wild, even. Sometimes it ended with you in some kind of trouble, while other times, like this one, ended with him in trouble instead.

You scurried out of his room before he could respond.

He released a dragged out sigh as he felt his cheeks warm.

Forget summertime.

He wondered whether the earth could be sustained through all of the seasons at the sheer brilliance of your smile.

But he ought to thank the summertime.

Because it meant, every year, without fail, he would wake up to you, he would smell the breakfast you helped his mother cook, he would hop on a plane to travel to a different province and see the night sky alight with hundreds of fireflies, your face aglow with soft awe and wonder.

Yeah.

He needed the summertime.

──────────────────

“What? Jihoon-hyung is talking to the girl that just upped and left him and fled the country?”

“Chan-ah, your wording needs work,” Seungcheol chastised. The other members that were near enough to hear nodded, while others were distracted by their own activities.

Jihoon buried his face in his hands. “Eugh, I don’t even know anymore. It’s not like we’re actually talking; she just reliked one of my posts. It’s like, she went back and let me know that she saw me. But is that supposed to be a warning? Is it supposed to be a white flag?”

The youngest member of SEVENTEEN shrugged. “Hyung, I think that you’re putting a lot of meaning behind something that was just a small gesture.”

“Nah, Chan,” Seungcheol interjected. “Jihoon has been in love with this girl since he was a kid. This is more than just a small gesture, after what she did to him.”

Wonwoo spoke up. “Hey, don’t forget Jihoon was the one who left Busan first.”

The accused groaned.

“Wonwoo, you’re just biased towards her because you think that she and Jihoon would make a good couple and you believe in an ideal love.”

“Hyung, I just think that if Jihoon can write what he writes about her, there’s something there.”

“You romanticist.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Jihoon-ah, I think you’ve tried to reach her with your words time and time again, but maybe it was never made clear that she was the one it was for. You mentioned that she really thought you were in love with your noona—” Jihoon grimaced at the memory. “—so, maybe she’s just unaware.”

“She can’t be that oblivious,” Soonyoung interrupted. Jihoon knew Soonyoung was almost fiercely protective over him because he was the one who witnessed Jihoon’s aftermath firsthand. Soonyoung may be over-the-top some days, but whenever Jihoon needed it, he would help ground him.

Wonwoo’s eyes flicked between the two of his fellow 96ers. “We were all kids once, Soonyoung. We were all so focused on ourselves we couldn’t really see what was happening around us.”

Soonyoung pursed his lips. “...I guess. Jihoon, what do you think?”

Jihoon stared at his hands. “Does it matter whether she knew back then or not?”

They all collectively raised a brow.

“Whattaya mean?” Seungcheol asked.

“I can make a ton of assumptions about her. That she was actually in love with me and was scared. That she was rejecting me in her own cruel, yet kind, way. That she had no idea and the timing was just completely off. But all of that, I don’t actually know. All I do know is that… I want to see her. And not just from afar anymore. But part of me also hates her. But all of me misses her. I don’t know. I guess I’m just too stupid to figure this out.”

A heavy silence passed over the group.

Soonyoung broke it. “If you’re stupid, then I’m the biggest idiot on this planet.”

“That’s not comforting, that’s just a fact.”

“Hoon, you wound me.”

──────────────────

Award shows were weird.

At first, everything was an out-of-body experience for him and could barely process what was happening. He even couldn’t believe that he and his twelve members managed to earn their matching pinky rings and the right to produce and perform, let alone be nominated for an award. When they went on the stage, they did their best to be as refreshing of idols as they could be.

But it was much more daunting than they were used to.

Their debut year went by, and although there were many nominations, they remained only that.

In middle school, he would often tell you that you had a strange fixation on being number one in your graduating class. He said that he didn’t get it, that being in the top 5 was already something that was admirable.

He would never forget the look you gave him when you said, “One day, you’ll know what it’s like. You’ll know what it’s like to almost have something and then not. It’s the kind of feeling that eats away at you, Jihoon. The feeling of, ‘But what if I did more?’”

He merely rolled his eyes and called you dramatic.

That is, until he experienced it firsthand.

The first time ever was when he was doing a music competition for clarinet and compared himself to his bandmate, who received several achievements while Jihoon found that he simply didn’t have the body to be able to hold the same lung capacity.

Then he felt it: that driving force.

You both pushed yourselves further, to higher heights.

And it ended with him sick and bedridden.

And you, heartbroken and unsure of life.

The two of you would reprimand each other for trying too hard, but even with accountability, that envy, that desire for an indisputable win, that fear of failure, would still sneak its way into you both. You, with your academics. Him, with his musical endeavors.

For several years after their debut, at award shows, Jihoon would clap, the rhythmic beating of his hands echoing that in his chest, his smile lined with bitterness, his ears rang with the whispered voices.

‘Those people didn’t deserve it. You worked so much harder. These people don’t even produce their own music. Or maybe it’s because they have real producers and composers, unlike you. Who are you to think you deserve that award?’

One night, after another show of no wins, he collapsed onto his bed, unlocking his phone, intent on watching an anime episode before falling asleep. His members were discouraged and no one wanted to discuss what more they could even do.

Even if they did everything right, maybe it still would never be good enough.

When he opened up the YouTube app on his phone, he saw a recommended video. Your name written out in English caught his eye and he realized it was Part II of a podcast you had done with the channel before. It was a Korean-American podcast and you would share your experiences in the Korean language, connecting with your culture despite being in a foreign country.

Before he could think about what he was doing, he clicked on it, hoping to find comfort in a person he always had, in someone he probably always would.

Several minutes in and he realized just how thick that red string must be between the two of you.

“You know, I thought I undid a lot of my perfectionism before coming to college. Korea is the birthplace of comparison and pressure, I’m sure of it. It was ingrained into me from childhood. So, I did what I could. I got out. Learned to broaden my horizons. But when you attend a school like Yale, your environment really just kinda forces you to be perfect just so that you can survive. Because if you’re not, then you’re cut.”

He thought back to his trainee days.

To his current days.

How similar.

“I remember being at an event where we were being presented awards for our achievements. I remember that I was in the running for one of them, and I won’t say which one so this doesn’t come back to bite me. But at this one event, I remember no other guests were invited, only the nominees and peers in the same field. And when they announced the winner, everyone applauded, of course. However, I won’t ever forget the sight that I saw.”

You chewed on your lips, gazing upward trying to find the right words to say, a habit you’ve had for years.

“The winner had the biggest grin on their face, proud of themselves, as they are allowed to be. But when they turned back to the crowd? I think they saw something. I think they saw that our smiles were forced, that we were judging them, judging ourselves, trying to determine whether they actually deserved the recognition or whether we should have been the ones to win. And… their smile faltered. It was quick, but it was noticeable. And I think the only reason why it even faltered was because it was only those of us who were nominated or could have been. Like, it’s easy to cheer on someone for a prize that you didn’t want, but as soon as you have stakes in the game? Well. That’s a whole different story. But when they lost that smile, it felt like something shattered.”

Your eyes welled up with tears, but they didn’t fall.

“They say it’s lonely at the top. I haven’t been there in a long time, but. I don’t even know if that’s where I want to be. These people have done super cool things, and who’s to say that I would’ve gotten the same results if I had tried? And maybe, maybe they have enough competitors. Maybe they need someone who celebrates them. Someone who knows the hardships of working in this field. And maybe that’s what I can do. I just want to do what I love and what I love doing is social work. Celebrating other people. Learning their stories. Not saving the world, but trying to make it into one that might be worth saving. If I happen to get recognized because of doing those things and they give some kind of trophy for it, then alright. But that’s just a byproduct of the greatest award I’ve already given myself, which is just letting myself do what I love.”

And those were words he carried with him as he went to bed that night. 

When they won their first award. Their first Bonsang. Their first Daesang.

Award shows were weird.

It was all about performance.

Performing on stage, prepped through sound-check, clean-cut choreography, and pre-recorded live vocals to grab the audience’s attention.

Performing when at their designated table, giving reactions at a timely rate for both the fancams and large screen cameras.

Performing when behind the stage, being the best hoobae or sunbae they needed to be, adapting to whatever situation they may be placed in.

He knew how to perform. He was good at it.

It was why he’s in this industry.

But there are some things that don’t warrant worrying about an audience.

As he watched the seven members of BTS walk towards the stage, reaching for their Daesang. He clapped to match the rhythm in his chest, sure and steady, at ease. His smile, genuine and wide. The voice in his head, not unlike yours mixed with his own, provided gentle comfort.

‘They deserved it. They worked hard, just like you did. Their ability to collaborate with other musicians is astounding. It would be an honor to work with them. And you, too, have won, you’ve given yourself the greatest award by continuing to do what you love.’

──────────────────

Jihoon once again found himself at the recording studio, however, at a more reasonable time. He was trying to finalize all of the details on the songs for their comeback album, so he was spending his days in the recording studio and ending it in the dance studio, fully exhausted to where he would only have enough energy to shower and trudge back to his bedroom, just to pass out on his bed.

He heard the door to his room open but didn’t make an effort to turn around.

“How’s the song coming along?”

“The album is nearly complete—”

“No, the solo one.”

Jihoon finally glanced up at Seungcheol who now stood beside him. “I haven’t had as much time to work on it. Why?”

“No, I just wanted to check in with you.”

“You’re a good leader, hyung,” he said quietly.

Seungcheol clicked his tongue. “Of course, I am. But I’m mostly just curious because you’ve never written a song about her specifically that only had you singing it.”

“…that’s not true.”

“What? Which one?”

“The first song I ever wrote.”

“Oh what? What was it?”

Jihoon shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s an old song that I think only I remember anyway, plus, I only had vocals at the time. No instruments or anything.”

“…huh. What was it about?”

──────────────────

You wiped your snot away from your face, unable to differentiate between mucus and tears. Your unrelenting sobs weakened to light shudders.

His voice carried from above you, his hand entangled in your messy knots as he rubbed soothing circles against your temple. You curled yourself further into the tear-stained pillow he so lovingly dubbed, “Y/N’s Breakdown Headrest” which also doubled as “Y/N’s Punching Bag” when your emotions were forged from fire and not a dam that couldn’t hold anymore of the taunts and cruelty from your own parents.

His thigh was a mere hair’s breadth away from grazing the top of your head. He had a tendency to bounce his leg, one you continuously called him out on, but he wouldn’t ever stop his bad habit.

That is, unless you needed him to.

And he always gave you what you needed.

So, he sang to you a song of hopes and dreams and the magic of forever and always. Lyrics of never-ending friendship and pinky promises.

──────────────────

Jihoon paused, wondering how you comforted yourself now, wondering if you now had a Breakdown Headrest 2.0, before he spoke again. “It’s about what all the songs I write are about. Love. Although, more lowkey, not as direct.”

“Love and her are synonymous to you, aren’t they?”

“She’s the one who taught me most of it,” Jihoon said nonchalantly. “A truly honest and genuine form of it.”

“Wow, how romantic of you,” Seungcheol laughed.

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “I’m letting you know I only have the patience to tolerate all of you guys because of her. She believes it’s her divine mission to be as annoying as possible.”

“She sounds terrifying.”

“Yeah, she’s taught me how to be patient and remain calm. But she was also incredibly patient with me. Honestly, it feels like all the things that make me likable are all from her.”

Seungcheol made a “oOooOooOOOooOOooo~” noise before Jihoon got fed up and kicked him out. Of course, his reprieve was short lived as more and more members flocked into his room, a constant moving traffic of his twelve brothers.

He imagined you meeting them.

With Seungcheol, you would probably tease him relentlessly, trying to come up with new names for the S. Coups game, while also thanking him for being so protective and steadfast, praising him for his taste in emo music and asking him to sing My Chemical Romance with you.

With Jeonghan, you both would sneak off to devise plans on how to create chaotic dynamics in between the members and cause more infighting while eating stolen snacks or spend hours just sitting around, doing fuck all, because why not.

With Jisoo, you both would speak in English (with you affectionately calling him by his English name “Joshua!”), sharing music as well as probably arguing between Los Angeles and New York, since that was a common feud topic Jisoo brought up.

With Jun, you would try to get as many reactions out of him as possible or get him to write down the list of all of the authentic Chinese restaurants around Korea or you would sit with him at a piano and watch as he played OSTs to Chinese dramas, applauding all the while starry-eyed.

With Soonyoung, you both would either be each other’s soulmates or the banes of each others’ existence, both fiery and passionate; however, you were always good at matching the energies of those around you, so you would let him ebb and flow while you merely followed, likely to call him, “Hoshingi,” just as Jeonghan does, and you would probably love caring for him the same way you did with elementary school students.

With Wonwoo, you would watch him play his PC games, probably in awe of his prowess or you would discuss lyricism and poetry, both exchanging flowery words for no reason as you would try to pick his brain as to what really lies beneath the surface, whether he truly is as straightforward as he seems, and be intensely satisfied that he simply is as he is.

With Seokmin, likely to sweetly call him “DK~”, you would ask him to sing for you since you loved Broadway style voices, and since you both were so generous with your kindness, there would be no doubt that the two of you would somehow manage to start up a non-profit that manages to eradicate all the bad in the world.

With Mingyu, you would discuss filming and the latest movies to watch and you would ask him how he finds the motivation to do many different hobbies at once especially when busy with being an idol; you would probably try to trick him into listening to you tell ghost stories as if they happened to you.

With Minghao, you would share your favorite poets and philosophical ideas, sharing the life lessons that you two have learned and realized you managed to hack life’s code at a younger age than most, you both realized the real importance of being alive: contentment and love.

With Seungkwan, you would probably be laughing so hard at his wit that you wouldn’t have much time to breathe, you would try to figure out how exactly he managed to memorize so much information surrounding K-Pop and why exactly he was so passionate about it or if neither of those, you would ask him if he could get you the plug for those Jeju hallabong oranges.

With Hansol, you would call him “Vernonz,” since you loved names that began with the letters V and Z, and ask him about his parents once you found out they were both artists, and you two would definitely discuss the effects of late-stage capitalism and social media on humanity.

With Chan, you would do your best not to baby him, but you hold a lot of fondness for those younger than you, you would try to figure out how he is so particular about his attention to detail and whether it is something that is pressuring him (and if there was some way you could alleviate it).

He imagined you there, integrated into his life again. He imagined you showing authentic interest in every one of his precious members, unlike most interviewers they would be forced to interact with every comeback. You would learn all of their names, find out their favorite foods, the best way to make everyone collectively laugh, and ultimately, how to help all of them feel comfortable around you and inevitably love you.

And once they did, he could say that his most beloved people were finally all together.

He fell in love with you, but you’re the one who taught him how to walk into it with his eyes wide open. So, he did it with his members. It took practice, having to actively choose them. With you, it may have always been a choice, but it was as natural as breathing, even if there were times he felt like he was being suffocated (or wanted to suffocate you).

He remembered the first time he became aware of it. Most people talk about how love comes, there was always talk about rose-tinted glasses and how it softened the world around them, unable to forget the brilliant smile on their face, but no. You always shattered expectations.

From anyone else’s standards, his realization came at an inopportune time. But it was so clear. It wasn’t as though you had sparkles around you as you emitted a warm glow, it wasn’t as though your hair was perfectly touched up with no strand out of place, it wasn’t as though you were perfectly dolled-up with eyes lined and lips colored. No. It was just… you.

And that's when he knew.

Because there was no filter to block the sheer clarity he was hit with when he finally accepted he was in love with you.

──────────────────

When Jihoon saw your crying form, a slurry of words filled with concern and instructions were the only thing leaving his mouth as he packed his things up. He only deviated once he gave a quick farewell to his noona who left with her dad.

Jihoon bit his lip. Would you be okay? Maybe he’ll just rush home now and shower then call you later at night. Or maybe he should go prepare his bedroom if you decide to visit. Yes. He should do that.

Jihoon turned on his heel to make his way back home, his newfound mission resounding in his mind.

However, your cousin’s voice reached his ears, “Wait—Jihoon, I can give you a ride.”

He looked back at him, saw the way your shoulders still trembled, and shook his head firmly. His fist clenched, the baseball preventing his nails from biting into his palms. He spun it once. Twice. And up into the air.

“Here, firefly.”

You caught it by instinct.

Your gaze met his.

He felt his heart ache at the sheer brokenness apparent in your eyes, rimmed with red and puffed skin. He grit his teeth. He hasn’t seen you cry this hard since the day your parents told you that your number two class ranking was nothing to be proud of and that they expected more from you.

His jaw clenched so hard, he heard an audible bite.

“Why are you giving me this?”

Your voice sounded so soft, like a child. A visceral instinct within him wanting to lull you into a peaceful rest with a lullaby.

But he wouldn’t do that.

Because that would be embarrassing.

(That was a future Jihoon problem.)

“It’s your win today.”

He much preferred the look of confusion on your face to the look of agony you held just a few moments ago.

“Huh?”

He swallowed thickly, his brain unable to keep up with the words tumbling from his mouth. “Even when you feel like you’ve lost, even when you feel like you have nothing to gain, just the fact that you’re still here, that’s a win. So. Scream. Cry. You can do what you want. It’s your win.”

Your gaze trailed down to the baseball, too large to wrap your fingers around entirely. It was probably much denser than you thought it would be, the weight foreign in your hands, unlike his.

You sniffled.

A soft smile formed on your lips.

And Jihoon realized he preferred that look on your face than any other he’s seen.

Pretty.

He rapidly turned on his heel before he even gave a second to try and unpack that thought.

The weight of his baseball gear was really doing a number on his heart, he realized belatedly.

That night, he didn’t prepare his room. He didn’t even call you.

(Not that you reached out.)

He merely stared up at his ceiling, his heart in a constant flux of rapidly beating or stopping completely.

He groaned loudly as he played through the day’s earlier events, thinking himself stupid for giving you a fucking baseball. You don’t even like sports. Did he think he sounded cool when he said all of that cringey stuff?

It’s your win?

But despite the feeling of wanting to curl in on himself, he couldn’t help but still agree with his earlier self.

You did win his heart, after all.

(He threw his pillow at the wall.)

──────────────────

“You’ve been liking her posts more easily.”

Jihoon merely grunted as he tapped away at his computer, Soonyoung on the couch beside him. “I decided to just… stop overthinking. Well, more like just stop thinking in general. I’m too tired to try and pretend I’m smarter than I actually am.”

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow. “You got it bad for her.”

Jihoon glared at him, who was scrolling through his (Jihoon’s) phone. “Be careful what you say. For the amount of songs that are about her, she covers basically 60% of your salary.”

Soonyoung laughed. “Guess I owe her a lot, huh? If she didn’t up and leave, you wouldn’t have come here and we would’ve never met. So, I guess I’m grateful to her. Plus. She’s cute.”

“She’s more than that.”

“Yeah. I can tell,” Soonyoung went quiet for a moment. “She… A part of me really doesn’t want to trust her. I keep remembering that day, you know. Where you just… didn’t seem like yourself. Barely there—” Jihoon cringed at the recalled memory. “—but she also just seems so genuine that it makes it hard. I want to be your bro, you know? Bro code and all—”

“I never asked you to do that.”

“—And I’m nothing if not a bro. But I don’t think you’re the type of person to be hung up on someone who’s not trustworthy. Like. You lose interest in people easily if you don’t see them on a regular basis. But her? It’s been years, bro.”

“Okay, bro.”

“Just letting you know I support you in your decisions,” Soonyoung stated, but there was an edge to his voice that sounded as though he was trying to convince himself more than Jihoon. “If she’s really who you say she is. If she’s the one who’s captured that stubborn heart of yours. Then I’ll do everything I can to help you out—Oh, she posted again. Wow. She posts often and yet still gets over a thousand likes. It hasn’t even been a day. Oh wow!”

Jihoon twitched but tried not to show his eagerness. “What?”

“They’re doing a donation drive for the group home that she works with. Ey, how can someone who does volunteer work to help kids and teens be a bad person? Jihoon, are you kidding me?”

“Young-ah, you’re the one who said it, not me—”

“So close-minded, Hoon.”

Jihoon rolled his computer chair over to Soonyoung, snatched his phone back, and smacked the annoying gnat’s hand in the process. Soonyoung yelped in pain, but laughed it off. He saw your post (noticed that Soonyoung ‘liked it for him’) and a figurative lightbulb lit up over his overworked head.

“This looks like something Bumzu-hyung would post on his story. Maybe I can ask him to share it. Oh, but this is her private page. Oh wait. She tagged the group home.”

“Thanks for the play-by-play.”

Jihoon ignored him and clicked the profile to see they had the exact same e-flyer post. But he knew that you’d probably notice there was an influx of donations (hardly anything got by you) and he didn’t want to bombard you with unsolicited help.

But it’s for a good cause!

But he might be trespassing on her territory.

Everyone cares about youth and kids!

This group home wouldn’t have even caught his eye had it not been for you.

He groaned inwardly. “I don’t know whether I should ask Bumzu to reshare or what—”

“Dude, just ask her if you can share it and then wait for her reply. It’s not like there’s only a one day donation thing.”

Jihoon blinked at Soonyoung. “You’re right.”

Soonyoung immediately sat up straighter, pulling out his own phone from his pocket. He opened up his voice memo app. “Say that again, I need to record that so I can set it as my ringtone.”

Soonyoung pressed the Record button, extended his phone receiver to Jihoon, who leaned in promptly and said:

“Fuck off, Kwon Soonyoung.”

──────────────────

“Kwon Soonyoung, what the hell are you doing?”

“What do you mean? It’s not like I planned this.”

Jihoon glared at the boy before him who was somehow wearing matching clothes again. He specifically came home after rehearsal to change into something different and yet, here he was, matching with this endless energy ball. Jihoon specifically changed out of his all-black garment to choose a long, plain blue button-down overshirt and ripped, dark jeans. Something different from his usual style of a t-shirt and shorts.

Yet, there Soonyoung was, in nearly the same outfit, minus the overshirt being a blue flannel.

“I think this just means that we’re soulmates, Jihoon-ah.”

Jihoon pulled back his fist as if to hit Soonyoung, but the latter didn’t flinch at all, only laughed at the expense of his friend. The other members were downstairs waiting for them so Jihoon didn’t have enough time to change out of the outfit. And it felt almost ridiculous to give this more attention than it deserves, as if he was losing by admitting that it bothered him to the point of needing to change clothes.

But Kwon Soonyoung, the man that he was, would not let him live it down.

“Wow, we look like a couple. We should go on dates, huh? Get some sushi or–ack!”

The shorter of the two pressed his foot against the back of the other’s knee and Soonyoung nearly came crashing down had it not been for his instincts to catch himself.

Jihoon huffed down the stairs, shaking his head at the situation and readying himself to be made fun of by his members. Once he got through that door, it was game over.

And he was right.

Seungkwan, Mingyu, and Dino were the ones who rallied the rest of the group to heckle, which only added insult to injury, as those three were the ones who had the longest rap sheet to make fun of. Jihoon kept his disgusted face on as Soonyoung wrapped his arms around his shoulders, announcing to (what seemed like) the world about how he’s ‘matching with his best friend.’

Jihoon came back with a slew of half-hearted insults at the rest of his members, but they unfortunately outnumbered him. He is rarely on the receiving end of this level of teasing, but he was dragged into it thanks to Soonyoung, who was eating it up.

Even in the midst of it all, Jihoon couldn’t help but feel thankful that he even had someone to accidentally match with who would wear it with such pride and not shy away from it. Sure, it might seem dumb and annoying, but it reminded him that he could have that kind of playful relationship with others outside of you. He had other friends in school or at baseball, sure, but none were as comfortable, as relentlessly fun. He thought there would never be another you.

And there never was, but that feeling of acceptance, of joy, of gratitude.

He was able to find it outside of you.

Which was a heartbreaking realization before, but now he only hopes you’ve done the same.

And mere hours after his own outfit debacle, Jihoon sees your instagram story to find you accidentally matching with Hyejin, her making the same face that he did not too long ago. But you had a shit-eating grin, no doubt proud of causing a disruption in your friend’s life.

Your caption read: “oh, you and your soulmate are tied by a single, red thread? that’s nothing compared to the matching threads we got on right now. eat your heart out, makoto shinkai.”

Beneath it in smaller letters: “if you can’t tell by her face, this was not planned at all, but man, am i really rolling with it.”

Jihoon snorted at the serendipity of it all.

Perhaps the string of fate really isn’t just a single thread.

──────────────────

It was a rare day in which Jihoon found himself at home.

Which meant he had a lot of time to think about you.

(You replied to him. He shouldn’t have been so surprised. But he was, pleasantly so. Of course, it included a thumbs up emoji which was the visual manifestation of the acquaintance zone, but he would take what he could get.)

Album preparations were underway, and although there is a part of him that feels as though he should be scrambling, especially as their anniversary date was literally tomorrow, he thought back to a voice from his youth.

Years ago, he laid in his childhood bed, struck with a nasty fever from pushing his immune system too far by attempting to balance school and various music competitions. There was a half-asleep you, exhausted by misplaced guilt, with your fingers intertwined with his, who said: Jihoonie, Koreans always say ‘fighting’. I told you that this morning, and I knew you weren’t feeling well. I could’ve stopped you. And now here you are. I said ‘fighting,’ but why? Why do we have to fight? Life isn’t a battle to win. You don’t have to overcome anything, okay? You can just lay here and be with me. Please don’t get sick again. Please remember to rest. Some days, it’s okay to just be.

So, here he was. Simply being.

Whenever massive events (like SEVENTEEN’s six year anniversary) happened, he made sure to spend the 24 hours prior doing nothing than just being, to gain enough energy to last the following day.

Otherwise, the nagging guilt would get to him.

You were always weaving stories with even the thinnest of threads. Your knack for adding dramatic flair, amping it up to eleven, was a nightmare sometimes. For example, when he got sick and you kept repeating that you should’ve said something instead of letting him go on stage only to nearly faint afterwards. You took on too much responsibility for things outside of your control, which only caused you to lose your grip on what you actually could.

His chest tightened at the thought of you losing your grip completely. There were very few things in life that terrified him, but you potentially ending yours was one that plagued him until he learned how to remain steady when you were feeling unsure, and even still, it tore him up inside. But he knew that it wasn’t his battle to face; he wasn’t meant to save you. You reminded him of that time and time again, so instead, he learned how to let you live the life you weren’t sure you wanted. He observed warily.

As a teenager, he knew just how bad these thoughts could get for people at that age. He knew how people fell prey to the lies that they were unworthy of life and love.

So, he simply tried to be as honest as possible. He would do his best to not invalidate your experience, but he refused to enable those insidious feelings. He would come off as abrasive, he was sure, but your ability to detect bullshit was like no other. Your parents had a big hand in that. So, instead, he was truthful in his own way, in his own language, one that you learned to understand.

A few years ago, you did a two-part YouTube podcast at Yale. The first one was released a couple of months prior to the second, and he’s sure at least one hundred of the views are from SEVENTEEN (not all him, his members also took away a lot from your words).

He listened to that podcast time and time again. He heard the life in your voice, the curiosity of the future outweighing the pain of the past. You said that life was, at first, a means to be with the people you loved. But you slowly came to believe that life was something that you would choose to love every single day, and so you did.

He hoped that you still did, but trusted that, if there were days that would come where you did not, you would reach out to someone to wait with you until the storm passed and you could choose to love again.

His chest filled with pride thinking about how far you’ve come.

But he couldn’t help but wish there were some things that remained from back then.

That glimmer of hope spurred him to become mindful of the object he was fiddling with in his hands. He held up a bracelet of years ago, hardly worn by time or by him. He wasn’t sure whether he was still allowed to. It was one-half of a pair, but if its partner no longer existed, then.

However, he never had the desire to throw it away.

The metal charms felt both foreign and at home in his hands as he fiddled with them, the faint clicking sound of the chain barely registering as his mind was in an entirely different place. His eyes focused once again on the charm of the sun caught between his fingers.

If only catching you was as simple, he mused.

Jihoon sighed and covered his eyes, desperately trying not to cringe at his internal monologue, habitually reaching for the Chopper plushie that you gifted him years ago, squeezing the body to diffuse the embarrassment he felt.

He remembered when he saw the charms at some random shop he heard about from others and thought you would enjoy, so he decided to scope it out in advance for the two of you. It was easy, on his way home after spending a few hours on his own to rehearse his clarinet, a regular occurrence.

Although there was no doubt the two of you gravitated towards each other, you both valued your independence and alone time.

──────────────────

“We’re giving us the chance to miss each other, Jihoonie.”

“Who said I’d ever miss you?”

“Well, gosh darn. Guess I’ll cover for you and miss you twice as much.”

“…You’re dumb.”

“Yes. Can I have some of your fries?”

──────────────────

He retaliated by taking the ketchup bottle and squeezing them all over the tray of fries and you immediately retracted, believing that fries should be dipped in its respective sauce (unless they were loaded fries, of course, which warranted using a utensil of sorts).

He chuckled to himself. Fifteen was one of the most turbulent years of his life, but there were plenty of moments (like fries drowning in ketchup) that reminded him it wasn’t all intense.

Your fifteenth year started off with that charm bracelet.

Two weeks before then, you were so moody that he nearly gave you your birthday gift earlier than he intended, just so he wouldn’t have to see you be so upset (for which, he has only a vague remembrance of what could have made you so upset). Of course, it might have been easier if he had simply brought up his concern and asked how you were, but he knew you would have brushed it off as nothing.

He paused.

Did he know that though?

Or did he just assume?

He clicked his tongue, annoyed at his own self-reflection.

Communication was easy in theory.

Application, however.

He often found it difficult, matching your pace.

You were always so quick.

Quick-witted. 

Quick to anger.

Quick to assume.

Quick to run away.

He heard a soft knock at his bedroom door (which meant it wasn’t Mingyu or Soonyoung) and he grunted in response. The door slowly opened (that ruled out Seungcheol and Chan) and revealed who decided to greet him in such a manner.

Ah, he was right.

“Woozingi~”

“Jeonghan-hyung.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Jeonghan moved to sit at the edge of Jihoon’s bed, with his legs crossed. “The members are wanting to get dinner tonight altogether since we have a schedule tomorrow. The staff said they’ll pay since it’s our six years.”

This had Jihoon propping himself upright. “Barbecue?”

Jeonghan snickered. “Yeah, it’ll be good to get ready in a few hours. But I just wanted to stop by and tell you in person since I know you like to mute the group chat.”

“That’s because it’s constantly going off,” Jihoon grumbled.

“Yes, that happens when people are trying to have a conversation, Jihoon-ah. You should try it sometimes. Especially since it sounds like you have communication issues.”

Jihoon winced. “Hyung. Your timing is terrible.”

“No, it’s impeccable. Just not for you. Anyway, a word of advice.”

“Hm.”

“You don’t have to fear rejection anymore,” Jeonghan started, slowly, the words seeming almost foreign in his mouth. “Regardless of what happens with her, you have people in your life that care about you as you are. You don’t have to try and match her. I don’t want you to subconsciously fall back into a habit of appeasing her because you’re afraid of scaring her away again.”

Jihoon blinked slowly. “I wasn’t expecting actual advice, so I’m a little stunned right now.”

Jeonghan chuckled. “I’m gonna be honest. The other members told me to come talk to you because the rest are either too scared or don’t know what to say.”

“Hah, we’re back to our trainee days, huh?”

Jeonghan grinned, probably recalling the amount of times that he was the emotional support pillar of the boys before they each learned to open up to each other. “Speaking of, I remember when I first met you. You were a teen with a cold-hearted exterior and a lot of opinions as well as the weight of the world on your shoulders. You had the responsibility to carry the music of twelve other guys and you had just lost something that was precious to you. You threw yourself into your work and that became your identity.”

“I—”

“I know you’re not that way anymore, but I’m just reminding you that, no matter what happens with her, no matter how she may respond, you aren’t that cold teenager who had to bear the weight all on your own. You’ve grown and are surrounded by people who can help ease the load.” Jeonghan paused for a moment. “Also, if I could think of a member who laughs easily at anything, you are one of the first that comes to mind. So, it concerns me that you haven’t been laughing lately, even when Mingyu accidentally sneezed out his ramyeon noodles—“ Jihoon snorted at the memory from last night. “—and, if I can assume anything about her, I don’t think she’d be very honored to know that it’s because of her. So. Come back to us, Jihoon. If she’s really meant to be in your life, she can match your rhythm. Don’t leave us in the dust.”

“Is this a long-winded way of saying ‘bros before hoes’?”

Jeonghan burst into laughter. “Maybe so!”

──────────────────

“Our Jihoonie~”

The teenage boy grunted in response, shooting up a look at one of the older members. “Is there something that you need, hyung?”

“You speak so formally, it’s off-putting.”

“That’s because someone refuses to act his age.”

“What a tough Busan guy,” Jeonghan teased.

Jihoon’s face twitched.

“Bumzu-hyung is looking for you. Said he wanted to finish up some more lessons.”

“Agh. I knew he was going to have criticisms. I’m barely getting a grip on this music production stuff, so I don’t even know if what I’m making is good enough to sell. Everyone might hate it.”

“Even if everyone else hates your music, just know I’m one of your biggest fans.”

“...If my music is hated, then we won’t make any money, which means you’ll be poor. What? Is it your dream to become poor?”

Jihoon expected Jeonghan to laugh and tell him that he was right and that money mattered. But instead, Jeonghan replied, “Jihoon. Your music is good. And if we don’t make money because other people aren’t able to see it. Then what’s the point? You say that it’s your responsibility as to whether SEVENTEEN succeeds or not, but, we’re thirteen members. Three units. One team. We’re SEVENTEEN. Stop acting like it’s all about you. Maybe my dream used to be becoming rich. But now, it’s just doing this. With all of us.”

──────────────────

Jihoon stared at his hands, at the charm bracelet. “Is it selfish to want this life and her as well?”

“Maybe it is. But, so what if you’re selfish?”

“Isn’t being selfish supposed to be a bad thing?”

“Just hope that she’s as selfish as you are,” Jeonghan shrugged. “By wanting her in your life, does that mean you want to be with her romantically?”

Jihoon paused. “You know, I’m not sure. I think I would be over the moon if we could even just be a part of each other’s lives. To have that line of communication open. But as the people that we are now. I think I’d like to meet the new Y/N. She probably has more in common with the new Lee Jihoon than the old her anyway.”

“You two have grown apart, aren’t you worried?”

Jihoon went silent for a moment, trying to pick out the right words. “Rather than grown apart, it feels like we’ve simply grown in separate spaces, by taking different routes, but our lives seem too intertwined for our paths to never cross again. Plus, she’s one of the few people that I could really be myself around. It’d be nice to have another safe space like that outside of SEVENTEEN because who else can I complain about you all to, that wouldn’t cause conflict between us?”

“Ay. What is there to complain about?”

Jihoon gave his hyung a pointed look.

“Alright, alright,” Jeonghan started. “But be honest. Real talk. You really think she wouldn’t spread it to Dispatch?”

“She has always valued people’s stories more than anything, so it really annoyed her when other people would take out-of-context excerpts and twist them. So. That’s how I know she wouldn’t spread it. Also, if she was that kind of person, she would’ve done so by now. She has a ton of blackmail material on me.”

Jeonghan chuckled. “Interesting. You said she likes stories, so is she a writer like you?”

“Not in the traditional sense. She’s more of a speaker than a writer. In high school, of course, she had her awkward moments like everybody else did, but even then, she was a tier above the rest. I don’t know how to say this kindly, but she doesn’t really think before she talks, but she doesn’t usually have to because what comes out is almost always what she intended.”

“So, she must be eloquent then.”

Jihoon clicked his tongue. “Just because things come out as she intended doesn’t mean she wouldn’t intentionally be mean or annoying.”

──────────────────

“You like unnie, don’t you?”

Jihoon spluttered. Shit, shit, shit. He tried to gather his thoughts, but failed. He wasn’t good with spontaneous spoken words, that was always your realm of expertise. He needed time to think of the right thing to say, but you never waited for him. “F-Firefly, I—”

You barked out a laugh, and he nearly retaliated at the harshness. He wasn’t sure why exactly you were being so harsh. “Hey, it’s fine. I don’t blame you. She’s pretty high up there, above us mortals. From now on, I’ll do my best to help you out, yeah? That’s what best friends are for. Plus, you’re like family, like a brother to me, so.”

Jihoon sank back.

Family? Brother?

He wondered why that left a bitter taste in his mouth. But that didn’t make any sense. Wasn’t being called family the highest praise?

So why the hell did that piss him off?

Instead of speaking his actual thoughts, his mouth had a mind of its own. “I can handle myself, Y/N.”

You sneered at him.

God, you were so infuriating sometimes. 

She wasn’t like that.

She was the soothing waves of Busan, ebb and flow, constant and expected. She was everything you weren’t. She was older, more experienced, graceful, calm, soothing.

She was beautiful.

But she didn’t have that burning fire you did. Didn’t have him reacting the way you managed to every time you opened your damn mouth or rolled your eyes—there you went again!

What the hell was wrong with you?

Rapid escalation, raised voices. You, accusing him of not trusting your judgment and hiding his crush from you, saying that you wished he trusted you. Him, arguing that he didn’t need to share every little thing, that it wasn’t about his trust for you at all, and that God, he did! He did trust you! Of course, he did!

So, why didn’t he tell you about the stupid crush?

It wasn’t that deep, but you were convinced it was, and he was too tired to even try and correct you. So, sure, he could be “in love” with his noona, like you believed. Because then he wouldn’t have to untangle the mess in his chest. He could shove it under the rug like he always had, always would.

You slammed your fists down onto the table before you walked away from him, in a rampage. Like a damn wildfire trying to clear everything in sight.

You were a volatile thing, explosive, even.

But.

You fizzled out just as fast.

He awoke around midnight to the soft knocking at his window, your silhouette perched on the thickest branch the tree outside his childhood home had to offer. He had half a mind to not open the glass pane but he saw you shiver and his body leaped out of bed without a second thought.

“I’m sorry, Jihoonie,” you said, a few moments after you clambered into his room.

“Okay.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for being friends with me anyway.”

“Sure.”

So, he wrapped your favorite blanket around you, the one he kept in his room for nights like this. Color slowly returned to your face and he saw the stains of tears on your cheek in the moonlight. You muttered words of apologies and told him about your day, not having the chance to earlier.

You were better like this, quiet, but not silent. Like a crackling fireplace beckoning all to come and listen, to be enveloped in warmth and light.

He never once called you his family.

But he’d be damned if you weren’t his home.

──────────────────

“Funny enough, despite the fact that she’s more of a speaker than a writer, even more than that, she’s a listener. She listens to more stories than she tells them. I think that’s helped with her pride. If she knew she messed up, she would always apologize, even if she hated doing it.”

“Well, that’s one lesson you haven’t learned from her yet.”

Jihoon pulled a face and Jeonghan laughed in response. The older of the two snatched away the Chopper on the opposite end and started throwing the doll up and down.

“Alright, lover boy. What I got from this conversation is that you’re still in love with her, but you gotta make sure she’s worthy of your love, alright? Heed my warning, don’t be afraid of being rejected by her. It’s already happened anyway, and here you are: world-star idol with twelve bros behind you no matter what.”

Jihoon cracked a smile. “You’re right. I got lucky.”

Jeonghan tossed Chopper back in his original vicinity. “I think Dokyeomie wanted to ask something from you too, but I don’t remember what it was, so maybe you can go get ready and he’ll come find you.”

“What a useless messenger.”

“Your luck can’t be perfect, Jihoon-ah,” Jeonghan quipped. He turned to leave the room but stopped in his tracks. “I hope to hear her story one day. Hear her side of things.”

“…Me too, hyung.”

──────────────────

“How much is the corn dog?”

“Hmm… Tell me your favorite color and how it makes you feel.”

Jihoon mustered as much displeasure as he could hold in his six-year-old body. “Y/N, you can’t pay with stories, that’s stupid.”

“It’s my shop!”

“Jihoon, we’re just playing pretend,” your cousin added, his eyes darting between the two of you, likely worried about needing to do damage control.

“Hyung, her idea is dumb!”

“Why!” You whined. “People pay with money all the time, but you can get money whenever! I don’t get to hear stories! I like stories! My parents don’t read to me every night like yours do, Jihoon!”

Jihoon stomped out of the playroom in annoyance, ears grated by the sound of your crying and your cousin’s failed attempts to console you. Stories couldn’t buy the new toy race car that he got. Stories couldn’t buy him candy at the corner market near the kindergarten. Stories couldn’t buy a GameBoy.

Stories didn’t matter.

Money mattered.

Still, nearly a decade later, you never failed to ask for your unconventional form of payment every time he took a portion of your lunch. He knew you packed more for him anyway. And he knew you would always ask for a story in return.

And he intentionally packed smaller meals so he could tell you about how the History teacher had botched up his classmate’s test and accidentally graded off by one, about how the clarinet solo he was learning required a finger pattern he wasn’t used to, about how that one guy—oh, the tennis player?—no, no, the flautist—isn’t it flutist?—it doesn’t matter—yes, it does, Jihoon—anyway, he asked out a girl—the senior?—yes—oh wow, how bold.

And you would smile in return, sliding your food choice of the day within his reach.

He learned that you hated money; it was the one and only thing your parents ever gave you consistently. Simply, it was the manifestation of their love (or lack of) for you.

So, he paid you with recountings of the mundane. You never complained, even when he felt as though his storytelling skills were lackluster. He held your rapt attention; your eyes wide with wonder, voice laced with curiosity.

Eventually, he asked you why.

Why stories?

“Because without them, I wouldn’t have learned that you love the X-Men series because of Hugh Jackman, that you prefer winter over summer, that the first ever K-Pop group you listened to was Brown Eyed Girls, that when you tell me a funny story, you wait until I react before you start laughing.”

And you gave him that smile that made his heart stutter.

“Money is everywhere, Jihoon. But there’s only one you. That’s all there is to it. People, at the core of it all, are just stories. So. That’s why. People will always matter more than profit.”

──────────────────

After Jihoon readied himself for the group dinner, he plopped himself down onto the communal couch and found himself scrolling through Instagram. He stopped at your latest post, a candid shot of you reading a children’s book to several six-year-olds, your face aglow with excitement, a high chance the photographer captured you mid-way through some silly voice attributed to the character on the page.

“Hey, hyung.”

“Hm?”

“Can I borrow your microphone for the day?”

Jihoon didn’t even have the chance to think twice before the words left his mouth, “Tell me your favorite color and how it makes you feel.”

An uncomfortable silence blanketed the room.

“Is… Is this a hidden-camera?”

“...never mind. Just put it back when you’re done.”

“It’s blue, by the way.”

“I don’t care—”

“It makes me feel happy because it’s the color of the sky and of the ocean, which means it can be super calm or super exciting. It’s also one of the colors of our Caratdeul.”

“Okay, Dokyeom-ssi. Get out.”

“Yes, hyung. Thank you.”

Jihoon thought about how, if given the chance, you would ask Seokmin if he liked the paleness of 9am or the depth of 6pm? If he liked the gentleness of serenity or the vibrancy of cerulean? Or if he appreciated all that the shades encompassed before fading into greens and indigos?

But he wasn’t you.

You were the inspiration; the muse.

You were the reason to write.

He was just a storyteller.

──────────────────

“THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO IS HERE. THANK YOU TO THE PLEDIS STAFF, OUR MANAGERS, OUR CHOREOGRAPHERS, OUR MUSIC TEAM, OUR DANCERS, OUR STYLISTS, OUR CAMERA WORKERS, OUR FAMILIES, AND OUR SEVENTEEN MEMBERS! HAPPY SIX YEARS. HERE’S TO MORE!”

Everyone in the rented out restaurant cheered before drinking together. Even the sound barrier breaking screams of Soonyoung wasn’t enough to dampen Jihoon’s pride and spirit over how far they’ve come as a team. He looked around at his table, several members already seemingly drunk, and couldn’t help but smile to himself.

“Jihoon-ah, make an exception for tonight and drink!”

He shook his head fervently. “There’s going to be several of you who are going to regret drinking when we have our V LIVE tomorrow. You’re going to look super puffy.”

“I can already feel it,” Seungcheol laughed, his eyes slightly glazed. “But the food and the beer are too good to pass up.”

Speaking of, Jihoon made sure to snatch a piece of kalbi to put onto his plate before Mingyu could. The younger one gave him the stink-eye while Jihoon merely smirked and tilted his head back, challenging him. Mingyu decided to change his target and grab at Seungkwan’s piece, who promptly smacked his hand with a “Kim Mingyu!”

Laughter went around the table as they reflected on the last six years, the amount of embarrassing moments that were brought up were positively correlated with the amount of shots that were taken.

Jihoon grit his teeth as he tried not to fold in on himself, remembering how they threw him up as a cheer and nearly ended his life by creating a Jihoon-shaped hole in the ceiling. He was so much smaller back then, easier to launch without thinking.

They laughed about the incident where Mingyu was nearly beaten to death by Jihoon with a guitar, which Jihoon argued that he still believed he was in the right. They discussed one of their first performances as a team, where they performed NU’EST’s “Hello” and they all had helmet hair. They poked fun at Seungkwan for his revolutionary English skills when he said, “are you kimbap kidding?”

They’ve grown so much.

International interviews with BuzzFeed, Seventeen the magazine, and others. GOING SEVENTEEN as a show has grown alongside them, more than just showing Carats the behind-the-scenes, but has now turned to variety that garnered the new fanbase of Cubics, and has been an honest highlight to Jihoon’s career, where they can just go wild and laugh with each other, just as they always do.

They talked about how they used to sneak in food, how they used to help each other get ready for school, how they still have the same playful spirit as they did back then, but with more trust that has formed between them (although, less for Jeonghan since his cheating at games has only gotten worse).

Jihoon leaned back, full of food and laughter and gratitude.

He wouldn’t trade his life with his team for anything.

(Not even you.)

However, that didn’t mean Jihoon didn’t want you to be a part of his already complete life.

He was a selfish human being.

He hoped you would be one too.

──────────────────

May 26th.

Six years ago, “Adore U” came out, marking the beginning of the journey of a thirteen member boy idol group named SEVENTEEN.

Now, here he was, trying to not be bullied into drinking another shot of soju after already consuming several in a short period.

Their anniversary V LIVE ended not too long ago and they did not have a schedule the following day, so the team decided to celebrate on their own, playing Mafia and messing around. A few hours ago, Jihoon would’ve hardly been able to tolerate the noise level, but since his hearing has been compromised due to his heart beating so loudly in his ears from the alcohol, he was plenty fine.

He shooed away his members and retreated back into the corner of the room, pulling out his cellphone and ignoring Mingyu making stupid kissy faces and noises. Jihoon shot him a look of disgust, but Mingyu merely laughed it off and went to go bother his next victim, who seemed to be Boo Seungkwan, a prime choice indeed.

As soon as he refreshed his Instagram app, there you were (with a highlighted gradient ring around your profile picture, your head tilted back with a soft smile grazing your features as you took in the endless sky above you).

He clicked on the circle and saw you and your friends there, a dimmed photo but your collective smiles large and wide. He recognized Hyejin and Wheein easily (the former with a disgusted look apparent on her face and the latter with a deep dimple), as they were two friends who were a common occurrence on your feed.

And there you were.

alexa, play congratulations by post malone ft. quavo 🥳🎓 #PHinisheD

The corner of his lip quirked up at the cleverness in your caption.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol in his system, he swiped up to send a message:

i figured u would be a day6 or eric nam kind of fan

His brain short-circuited.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Shit. Fuck.

Who was he to think he could directly message you like this? Also, who the hell was he to figure anything about you? He hasn’t even spoken to you. Jesus Christ, what has he done?

Before he could stop himself though, his thumbs decided to speak his thoughts.

sorry that was dumb of me to assume

of course u would like post malone considering u could rap the entirety of eminems album

What the hell, dude.

You were going to freak out and call him a creep and then block him.

You’ve literally never done that.

He tried to calm his heart.

However, not even ten minutes later, he realized he couldn’t take that risk.

sorry that was stupid

ignore me

congrats y/n

He felt nearly every goosebump that crawled along his skin, creeping up to his neck, threatening to choke him out. He breathed in deeply through his nose, hoping no one bears witness to him.

“Yah, Jihoon-ah.”

His eyes trailed up to see Soonyoung with a look of concern, mixed with a twinge of panic and anger.

Ah, it would be him.

“What did she do?”

──────────────────

For people who didn’t know him, Kwon Soonyoung comes off as, well, not-so-bright.

But that wasn’t (entirely) true.

Kwon Soonyoung was aware.

He knew how to read a room, but oftentimes, he would purposely choose to simply do what he wanted anyway. Hardly did he ever prioritize another person’s comfort and complacency over his expression of his individuality. He knew what it took to be a performer, and he never denied himself the opportunity to be one.

So, him simply staring at his friend in silence with eyes that alone could have earned him his moniker of “Tiger’s Gaze,” was a major indicator that something was amiss.

Also, the fact that his friend was shrouded in near darkness, eyes rimmed with red, only a corner lamp illuminating his pale features.

“She went to America. She’s never fucking coming back.”

Soonyoung tried not to wince at his friend’s broken tone. Jihoon cursed like a sailor when they were trainees, but it was a habit that he slowly lost since he would often be reprimanded for his speech. He had to do the work to censor himself.

Well, the K-Pop industry was not a stranger to censorship, he mused.

“Wasn’t she already at an international school, though?”

“Yeah, but I just… I thought she would come back after graduating from that boarding school, you know? She wanted to go to Seoul National University, but. Fuck, dude. What if I’m the reason she stopped? What if she stopped following her dreams because of me? What if I–”

“She made her choice, Jihoon.”

“This is all my fault.”

“How?”

Soonyoung saw confusion flit across Jihoon’s face, but it quickly settled with a shake of his head. “It just is, alright?”

“Jihoon–”

“I’ll never be good enough for her. Fuck, I just thought if I tried, then maybe I could be, and– God, who do I think I am? Of course she’d never want someone like me–”

“Dude! Shut the fuck up, will you?”

Jihoon sat there in stunned silence.

“This might not even have anything to do with you. And if she really went to America because she’s trying to avoid you, then she’s a massive bitch–”

“Don’t fucking call her that–”

“I can do whatever the hell I want. Just like she’s doing whatever the hell she wants.” Soonyoung’s anger was slowly morphing into rage. Who was this person in front of him? He was so used to the sure, secure Lee Jihoon who would never truly get riled up.

But one mention of you and suddenly he would spiral.

Who the hell did you think you were?

Leaving this man who loved you so fucking wildly, to the point where he was just one moment away from begging on his knees for your return.

Soonyoung felt disgusted, but it was more of a ringing concern in his ears.

“Jihoon, you’re acting crazy right now. So what if she doesn’t come back to Korea? Are you gonna wait like a fucking sad dog out in the rain? Hoping that she’ll come pick you up again? You’re missing your own fucking life here.”

“I just–”

“Yeah, yeah, you love her. I get it. But… If she were to see you right now, do you think she would even want this kind of love? This obsessive, insecure kind?”

Jihoon’s face was now contorted in pain and Soonyoung tried so terribly hard to keep his face neutral. Soonyoung was plenty capable of being a soothing person, especially to his fellow members, but he was so riddled with frustration that he knew that he would come off as disingenuous if he even tried to pretend to be.

“Let her go. If she comes back, then she will. But don’t let her come back to someone who is incapable of even picking himself off of the floor.”

“...Okay.”

Kwon Soonyoung was aware.

Aware of how much Lee Jihoon was in love with you.

Painfully so.

──────────────────

“I just–”

“You just what?” Soonyoung’s eyes bore into his friend’s face.

Jihoon recoiled at his tone. “I replied to her Instagram story and it was some dumb comment, but what if she thinks I’m being too much and she backs off and–?”

“Jihoon-ah.”

“...Soonyoung-ah.”

“She’s human, right?”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow at that. “Yeah, no shit.”

“Then why are you acting like she’s this untouchable goddess? Who cares if she thinks you’re being too much? You’re putting her on a pedestal she probably doesn’t even want, dude.”

──────────────────

“Why’d you reject the guy?”

You glanced up at her best friend. “What’re you talking about?”

Jihoon cocked his head to the side. Was it already so quickly forgotten by you? It happened at lunch and it was kind of rowdy. Poor dude. “The guy who asked you out to the dance. You said you thought he was cute before and that he was good at tutoring math.”

“Yeah, I might know him, but he doesn’t know me.”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow. “I thought you guys tutored together.”

You clicked your tongue. “Yeah, we do, but. He doesn’t know me. I know him because I ask him questions. I ask him about himself. But he never once asked me a question about me. If he did, he would know that I hate public gestures. He would know that I don’t like receiving flowers. He didn’t even care to ask any of my friends about what I liked. The main reason as to why he asked me to go to the dance is probably because I made him feel good about himself. I might know him, but he doesn’t know me, and that’s one of the most annoying things.”

“What, that people don’t know you?”

“No. That people assume they know me.”

Jihoon paused for a moment.

“People think that I’m this super wholesome good kid who gets perfect grades.”

“Well, one of those things is true.”

You cracked a smile at that. “Yeah, well. The more people assume I’m on a different level from them, the lonelier it is. I just… I don’t want to be lonely, Jihoon.”

“It’s alright. I’ll make sure you aren’t.”

It was chilling, how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, as if you knew a secret he didn’t, as if you already prophesied a future that rendered his words empty. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Lee Jihoon.”

──────────────────

Jihoon nearly bit his tongue.

Ever since he no longer had the security of having you be by his side, he became exactly like one of them, forcing assumptions onto you.

You were out of sight and he was out of his mind.

He told you that you could always be yourself around him, and here he was, creating a caricature of you in his head that he knew didn’t exist. To push forth the narrative he wrote. One born of insecurity. “...I don’t understand how you’ve been so right lately?”

“I really do wish I had my phone around to record you when you say that,” Soonyoung said off-handedly. “So, you’re not going to try to unsend those messages?”

“You can unsend messages?”

“Uh–”

Jihoon immediately unlocked his phone to go to his messages. There, he saw your chat. He long-pressed the message without much thought and his thumb hovered over it.

But he hesitated.

“...Just watching from afar isn’t enough for you anymore, is it?”

Jihoon stared up at his friend, who had a look of (almost) pity etched across his features. Jihoon swallowed the lump in his throat. “...No. I don’t think it is.”

“Well, if she rejects you in any kind of way, I can comfort you.”

“No thanks.”

“Yeah, thought you’d say that.”

──────────────────

Almost exactly sixty minutes later, Jihoon witnessed a miracle.

“...She replied.”

Seungkwan glanced up at Jihoon. “Who?”

Jihoon turned his screen to his younger member, who leaned forward to read his screen. Only to audibly gasp and cover his mouth with his hands. “You messaged her?!”

“Yeah, like an hour ago. Keep up.”

“Hyung, you didn’t tell me–”

“Ah, Boo Seungkwan.”

The corner of Seungkwan’s mouth twitched and Jihoon merely smirked. He turned his attention back to your messages, smiling fondly at your usage of 🥳 after greeting him a happy anniversary.

Oh shit, wait. You knew SEVENTEEN?

And he portrayed that sentiment exactly when messaging you.

(With some typing errors.)

(He may or may not have taken one, two, several shots once the anxiety settled back into him.)

(His alcohol tolerance was nonexistent.)

The messages were now rapid-fire. He found out that you were a Carat and that you favored Yoon Jeonghan.

He snorted at that, of course you would.

A lightbulb lit up over his head. Ah. He could do something for you.

He jumped up from his seat on the couch, away from Seungkwan who was watching over his shoulder the entire time who chose to remain silent because he knew he would be kicked out if he said anything compromising. “Jeonghan-hyung.”

“Woozi Woozi~?”

“Can you do something for me?”

Jeonghan stared at him, frozen. Then after a moment to process what exactly Jihoon said, the older one crossed his arms over his chest, a scandalized look in his wide eyes. “Depends on what you’re asking for.”

“YAH.”

“Lee Jihoon, don’t yell at someone you’re trying to ask a favor from. You’re lucky I’m a nice guy.”

Jihoon held his tongue, but his expression must have given it away because Jeonghan laughed and said that he would rather not die, and asked Jihoon to continue with what he was saying. “Y/N just graduated and she basically said that you’re her favorite SEVENTEEN member–”

“WOW! I like her already.”

“Hyung.”

“Okay, what do you want me to do for both my cute fan and my even cuter dongsaeng?”

“Just a video to congratulate her.”

“My videos are rare, it’s not easy to get something like this, you know.”

“Hyung, please.”

Jeonghan cackled, but quickly acquiesced. “Alright, alright.”

Soon enough, he found himself in a rhythm speaking to you. It was so easy, there was no residual awkwardness (on his end, at least) and it felt so natural. The banter was still there and so were your emoticons, escalating from the “:)” of your childhood to the iPhone emojis. You seemed so close, within reach, attainable.

That felt dangerous.

He could feel it. He could feel that desire to spill out everything he could. He spent years coming up with the words he wished he could’ve told you, some of them now award-winning songs, and it feels almost euphoric to know that he could tell you it all.

But.

He wasn’t sure, still. How receptive you would be. Would you run away like you did in the past whenever things became too much, too overwhelming? He always reminded you that you could never be that, but he wasn’t sure whether he was of the same capacity.

He wants you in his life. There is no doubt about that, especially not now.

But what if you leave again?

He cannot mess this up. He can’t.

So, he kept things light between you, jokes and jabs.

But that didn’t stop him from pushing for more, disguised in a (not-so) innocent attempt at ensuring that he would be able to have open contact with you in the future.

And that’s all he needed. A future with you in it.

That wasn’t too much to ask for, right?

──────────────────

Yes. Yes, it was.

After a few days of no response from your end on KakaoTalk, your Shikamaru profile picture almost mocking him with his permanent deadpan look, the answer was resounding.

But Jihoon’s entire identity was based on his stubbornness.

So, he decided to take a chance and message you on Instagram.

Only to retract immediately saying you didn’t have to reply.

Stupid.

Thankfully, though, you responded within 30 minutes, admitting that @narutofanfreak123 was not exactly a username you wanted to share with anyone above the age of twelve. You both quickly resolved the miscommunication (wow, Jihoon thought, imagine if we had this before).

He chuckled at your choice of KKT username, @MadameFirefly, oddly touched that his nickname for you still held enough weight to be your moniker for a messaging app.

He did his best to casually ask what you were planning on doing in the future (not like he wanted to see if he could somehow fit into it, or whatever).

Jihoon was left staring at his phone screen, the weight of his phone now burdened by the weight of your choices. Seoul? Or New York City?

──────────────────

“You didn’t have to miss the dance just because I got a B on an exam, you know.”

“Your parents are insane for grounding you to the library for a B on an exam, you know? And for a hagwon that’s way above our grade level.”

You shook your head, not willing to admit out loud that you agreed. “What I mean is that you don’t have to keep me company while I study when you could go off and meet cute girls and sweep them off their feet.”

“Why would I do that when I can watch you and your snot-nosed face trying to do college level calculus?”

“It’s all so that I can get into Seoul National.”

“Firefly, you could get into any school, even outside Korea.”

“Maybe I’ll do just that,” you laughed. “Finally get out of here.”

“Just let me know and I’ll stow myself into your suitcase.”

“Oh please. You’ll probably be the one traveling internationally doing whatever you do. A world-renowned musician.”

“Alright, you can be in my suitcase instead then.”

“Okay, can you leave breathing holes for me?”

“No, get better lung capacity.”

You clicked your tongue at him and he laughed. “Seriously, though, Jihoonie. You could be spending your teen years the way the movies do it. You could be ‘swearing you’re infinite’ while a slow-mo cam focuses on you as you dance, surrounded by beautiful people definitely too old to be cast as teenagers.”

“No thanks.”

You put your forehead down onto the table. “Please. Do it for me. Get a girlfriend because I can’t.”

“You know, you’re probably why I can’t get a girlfriend.”

No. You definitely were.

You shot him an annoyed look. “You could easily go and find someone who’d be smitten with you. But instead you’re about to watch me get a nosebleed over how hard I’m working my brain here.”

“Maybe I’m a sadist and want to watch that happen.”

You threw your eraser at him, but easily missed, the rubber object bouncing off of the table and onto the carpeted floor. You whined at the idea of having to leave your seat and Jihoon just rolled his eyes and picked it up for you.

Sure, he could be dancing with his friends, with cute girls, with whoever. He could be surrounded by endless snacks and overly sweet punch, the dance no doubt smelling like youth and pride and reckless decisions. He would see that there are plenty of people in his life outside of you.

But, no.

If he did, you would be left here, in this almost deserted library on a Friday, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into what your parents have convinced you matters more than your health.

You gave him a large grin as he passed you your eraser before you went back to focusing on your work.

Yeah, he’d much rather see this instead.

──────────────────

Later that evening, he found himself again in his recording studio.

Our past that didn’t line up,

If I could go back in time,

Rather than roughly, but warmly,

Would I be able to let you go?

He stared at the lyrics he wrote, feeling discontent. He wanted to be the kind of person who didn’t feel any kind of residual emotions towards you. Who would be able to meet you where you were and wish you well, no matter where you decided to go.

One of his biggest regrets was storming out of your childhood home the way that he did. He could’ve had answers but instead he was left with hostile emotions and questions.

He could only hope he would’ve done something different.

But now that he is faced with letting you go, he’s not sure how easily he would yield.

He took a moment to bury his face in his hands and tried to think about this from your perspective (something he had to practice while living with twelve other boys). He breathed in deeply and thought about the you that you are now, about how the person he fell in love with could easily be gone, and you were nothing but a shadow of what remained.

But that didn’t feel right either. It seems as though the person that you’ve grown into, that you’ve flourished into, is someone he would’ve wanted to get to know regardless of whether you had history or not.

Perhaps that is because of the artifice of social media, or perhaps it’s because you carry an air of authenticity with you that has now been given the opportunity to bloom instead of stifled in the environment you were raised in. Whether or not you were mere remnants of his past, it does not mean that the person you are now is any less lovely.

He groaned loudly.

Emotional labor is hard.

How is this something you enjoy doing?

──────────────────

“You really want to become a social worker, huh?”

You shrugged. “I mean, yeah. It feels like the best use of my skills. I like being able to potentially help people like me and well, there are a lot of people like me, you know. I don’t know whether I want to become a private practice therapist, but that seems like a solid option for now until I know more about what else is out there in the field.”

He would disagree, but he decided not to. “I just can’t deal with all of those emotions.”

You gave him a raised eyebrow. “What are you talking about? You’re one of the most sensitive people that I know.”

Jihoon felt ruffled by that. “What? What are you talking about?”

You quickly put your hands up in mock defense. “I’m not saying that being sensitive is a bad thing. I’m saying that there’s no way you would be my friend if you couldn’t handle emotions. I have way too many of them, I’m not that blind to that. Also, I’ve read your poetry and heard your music and that’s some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. Like, even the way you hold your clarinet is emotional.”

“I think that’s you projecting yourself onto me.”

“Say what you want, Jihoon. You’re a sensitive soul, but I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“Yeah, well, sensitivity isn’t what gets you awards, you know. Skill does.”

You huffed in response. “Yeah, well, once you build up the second, the first is what will create a legacy that will be one to remember for ages to come. I’m speaking it into existence now. And I lay claim to the title of being your first fan. I will support you the entire way, no matter what you do. Music, baseball, comedy. Whatever!”

Jihoon snorted. He wouldn’t dare become a comedian, but it made him feel good that you thought that was a viable prospect for him. “Whatever industry I’m in, I’ll probably have to protect you from all of the bad people. You’re too soft. Even just last week, I mean…”

“What? You mean, when Nahyun made fun of me during my presentation in front of everyone?”

Irritation washed over Jihoon. 

The self-proclaimed It Girl decided to try and belittle you while in the middle of your presentation, as you were explaining the measurements that you used in your findings, she asked whether you had ‘measured’ your weight recently because ‘you really ought to’.

He never wanted to get into a fight more than then, especially when your other classmates laughed along. It was a subpar, typical, low-class mean girl line, but it filled him with rage.

You were completely unphased by it, continuing on with your presentation, not even choosing to spare a glance in her direction.

Luckily, the teacher, not being a prick himself, called out Nahyun and pulled her aside after class to apologize to you. (Jihoon would’ve preferred a public execution apology.)

Jihoon stood just a few feet away as you accepted her half-assed effort. You paused for a moment and muttered something to her, something that only she could hear. Nahyun merely pursed her lips afterwards before walking away. Irritation rushed through him again.

“Seriously, though. You’re too soft, firefly.”

“Hm. I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“No. I just think everyone else is too hard on themselves. And each other.”

“...You’re gonna be a great therapist.”

“Thanks. Hire me.”

──────────────────

Jihoon had his own fair share of meetings with professional counselors (especially in the midst of living such a hectic life as an idol), but he was worried whether you would be as cut and dry as they were, whittled down by years of academia. It seemed almost like they were reading out of a textbook, using vocabulary words like ‘empathy’ and ‘self-care,’ so he never saw it fit to return if it wasn’t necessary.

However, the places you’ve poured your time into left only glowing reviews for your passion and compassion for the field that you were in.

Jihoon was roused from his thoughts at his phone ringing on his desk. He looked at the Caller ID and saw a name he has been in and out of contact with for over a decade, it was your cousin. He picked it up. “Yo, hyung. What’s up?”

“Are you busy right now, Jihoon?”

“No. It’s a slower day today. Do you need something?”

“Yeah, just wanted to let you know that I’ll be in Seoul in a few weeks. Your noona and I are planning on celebrating saying goodbye to our single days by drinking way too much within the span of 12 or so hours. I wanted to see if you were down to join.”

“I probably won’t drink, but if it’s for you, hyung, I’ll go.”

“Nice. And you can feel free to leave after the dinner, we’ll just be at an apartment we’re renting out in Gangnam, since I don’t trust those fools to walk around the streets of Hongdae.”

“I’ll probably do that, I don't want to accidentally be caught by Dispatch.”

“Right, right. We wouldn’t want to sully the name of the best producer in all of K-Pop.”

“That’s a title I don’t think I’ll ever get.”

Your cousin laughed. “You never know, you might get that award sooner than you think, kiddo. Alright, I’ll keep you updated on our schedule. But uh…”

Jihoon knew his hyung well. He was about to bring you up again. “What about her?”

“I just wanted to ask whether you’d be interested in a meet-up with her. Not that we’ve asked her or anything, but I know we’ll probably meet up with her at some point, and I know it’ll feel weird if we’re not all together, you know? The four of us.”

“Yeah… I want to say that I’m courteous enough to wait for her response, but I just know that I’m willing to meet with her, if anything. Even just one last time.”

“That… sounds kinda sad, but. I guess I’ll take it. If you’re down, we could even make it a surprise on her end.”

He imagined your deer in headlights look but couldn’t think further than that. “Sounds like we’d really be putting her on the spot, if that was the case.”

“Hey, she’s rarely played it safe. Same with you. Might as well keep the flow going. And if anything, I’ll take the brunt of it all. She can’t stay mad at me for too long.”

“We both know that’s literally not true.”

“Okay, fine. Your noona can take the blame.”

“Wow, very excited to see how this marriage will go.”

His hyung laughed. “Amazingly, I’m sure.”

A thought occurred to Jihoon and he realized it was strange that he was mentioning it as an afterthought, as if it was something to be expected, something natural and normal. “Oh, hyung. By the way, I’m talking to Y/N again.”

Jihoon heard the undeniable ‘beep beep beep’ of being hung up and he stared confused at his phone screen until he saw another phone call from your cousin. He picked up with a, “Hello?”

Your cousin sounded much more flustered than he did just seconds ago. “Sorry. I hung up because I dropped my phone by accident. Say that again. You’re what?”

“I’m talking to her again. Kind of. I guess. Like, Instagram DMing went to KakaoTalk.”

“Jesus Christ, you slid into her DMs?”

“Can you not say it like that?”

“Can you say that that didn’t happen?”

Jihoon relayed the entire experience to him, only now realizing he didn’t even share all of the details with his members because it would’ve been too much teasing fodder from them. But your cousin, his hyung, was the kind of fellow that wouldn’t do that, even given the opportunity.

──────────────────

“Hyung,” Jihoon started one day, across from said person in a local Busan restaurant. “I don’t get how you’re single.”

“Why, you wanna date me?”

Jihoon’s eye twitched and your cousin laughed. Jihoon bit on his straw, the family style meal between the two young men long since devoured. “People compare us, you know.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “What’s there to compare?”

“I don’t know. So many people around us know how cool you are. You’re good at sports, you’re smart, you have a lot of friends, you’re handsome. Everyone always says you’re one of the best listeners they’ve ever met.”

“The trick is to not pay attention sometimes and just nod.”

“I’m gonna tell Y/N you said that.”

“I’m sure she knows,” he laughed. “Well, I'm honored that you think all of those things, but those are all traits you have too. You do realize that, right?”

Jihoon grunted. “Not… really.”

“Well, just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean others don’t. My cousin definitely does. She’s a good kid and has a good heart. Same with you. If you ever decide to do anything about those feelings of yours, just know that I approve.”

Jihoon nearly choked on his drink. “Wh–?”

“Oh, it was a secret?”

“Hyung!”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t say anything to her, don’t worry. And if you ask me, I’d say that you’re the only one on this planet that even has a chance. Well, except that girl from the cake shop.”

Jihoon sneered.

Fucking Woo Soyeon.

With her shiny hair and long eyelashes and doe eyes and tanned skin from her beach volleyball playing.

Giving out discounts to you like nobody’s business. Calling you cute and flirting nonstop while twirling a lock of her hair. Saying you’re her favorite customer. He could swear Woo Soyeon would throw a knowing smirk at him every time you stuttered a little too long when saying thank you.

That damned girl behind the counter, the one whose beauty and voice (“It’s just so velvety, you know? Like the chocolate cherry cakes.”) he knew you were smitten by.

She was even taller than him, especially in her heels.

At the ripe age of 15, Jihoon understood what jealousy was.

Because of fucking Woo Soyeon.

“Watch out, Jihoon. I can hear your thoughts all the way from over here.”

“Sorry.”

Your cousin laughed. “Trust me, you mean a lot more to her than cake counter girl. My cousin wanted all of us to go see the Christmas lights in the city together. You don’t see her inviting that cake counter girl, do you?”

Jihoon felt a weird sense of pride well up in his chest. Then immediately deflated. It felt stupid to feel like he won against a person who’s just trying to sell cakes to a loyal customer. “Hyung, how do you do it? You’d never let yourself get angry or jealous over stuff like this.”

The older of the two cocked an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“You wouldn’t get jealous over a cake counter girl.”

“Says who? I get jealous. It’s normal, you know. Jealousy isn’t inherently a bad thing. It’s just what you do with it, right? Like, just because you’re jealous of cake counter girl, does that mean you stop Y/N from going to that shop?”

“What? Why would I do that? She loves that shop.”

“Exactly. Emotional maturity doesn’t mean you stop yourself from feeling the emotion, it just means you learn how to handle it as it comes. And once you practice it enough, it becomes easier and easier.”

“You make it sound easy, but it’s not.”

“Hey, I’m not anything big and special myself.”

Jihoon shook his head. “Hyung, you’re a superhuman.”

“No, I’m just human and letting myself be that,” he corrected. “Trust me, there’s plenty of good people out there. A lot of them just aren’t making the decision to do so. It’s easier to be cruel, but. I want to prove that you can be kind and still be a man. We get to define what that means. If I decided to be cruel, to become what society says is ‘a man,’ then I have no doubt Y/N would lose trust in me, and probably, all men.”

Jihoon noticed that his hyung stared at him for a second.

“Actually, maybe not all men.”

Jihoon felt embarrassed, but also honored, at the implication. “Thanks, hyung. You know, for not making fun of me. And for admitting that you also feel those kinds of things.”

“Absolutely, I’m glad I could help.”

“I’m seriously still surprised that you’re single.”

“Yeah, well. That might not always be the case if I can figure out what to do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well… you know your noona?”

──────────────────

Jihoon couldn’t help but shake his head at the way the events unfolded. Your cousin told him about his feelings for his future wife, but it still took a few years for anything to come out of that. He wondered whether being childhood friends had anything to do with it, as if the longer and deeper the bond, the riskier the chasm was to try to jump across.

However, your cousin still managed to do it.

“How did you do it, hyung?”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“Just… how did you manage to tell noona how you felt?”

The older man laughed. “You really think that it was me who confessed? No, no. It was her. I think she was tired of the back and forth that was happening between us. I mean, so was I, but I was a coward, but thankfully, she wasn’t. Now because of her saying that she loved me first, I get to be the one who says it last. Then we start again. It’s a dialogue, you see. It doesn’t matter who starts the line, as long as it continues.”

“Oh…”

“Am I proud that I was a coward? No. I sometimes wish it was me who said it first so she wouldn’t have any room for doubt. But we can’t go back and change the past, only commit to a better future. All of this to say, though, Jihoon, it’s been long enough of not saying anything between the two of you. I don’t think you want to wait any longer.”

“…yeah. I agree.”

That night, hours after preparing for the album, Jihoon’s fingers tapped away on his Notes app.

This waiting, it’s not easy to endure.

It was past 4am now.

But he didn’t want to wait any longer.

So, he switched apps and instead of a blank Note, he began typing into a message box.

i know its late. rehearsal never ends until 3am and i know that when u get texts you wake up even if ur phone is on silent bc the vibration wakes u up so im trying to type this all in one message so that it doesnt wake u up (hopefully) but i didnt want it to seem like i left u on read because i was upset or something. but i didnt want to message until i had the time to have a full conversation but i dont think thats happening any time soon anyway. when you see this i hope it makes sense im not sure if i am

A response from you was the last thing he expected, but you always managed to surprise him.

The first time he heard your voice directly in his ears, he thought he was going to spontaneously combust. But he tried to keep his voice level as he asked you about where you were leaning towards for your career.

The relief that rushed through him.

The hope that ignited in him.

That was the spark needed for him to explode.

And so he did, into words.

“I’m proud of you, you know?”

He heard your throaty stutter, one that only came out whenever you were really caught off guard. “Uh—what?”

“You got a whole ass PhD. From the best university in Korea,” Jihoon still couldn’t believe the two of you went to the same school. “You got offered a job at a super big school in America. One that’s super big in the field that you studied. You graduated from an even school for undergrad, a school that even I know the name of. And just… I know that people expect you to achieve because you’ve always been a genius, always so brilliant, but. You also work really hard. So I’m proud of you.”

He could barely hear your, “It’s not that big of a deal—” over the pounding in his ears.

“But it is, firefly.”

And suddenly he was brought back to all the years before. Where he spent more years in love with you than not. How that nickname encapsulated exactly as he saw you: inspiration, guidance, hope.

“I mean, I just—”

Your flustered response only encouraged him to continue. “You don’t have to believe me. But that won’t stop me from feeling it.”

“Jihoon, I—”

He didn’t realize just how much he’s missed hearing you say his name. But more than that, “I’ve missed you.”

There was a pause on your end, but he was done with his.

“I’ve missed you a stupid amount. Like us stealing your dad’s car to drive to McDonald’s at 3am and then running a red light on the way there. And then somehow almost hitting an entire flock of seagulls—” which he would never admit to being the reason he never wants to get behind the wheel again. “And then going to some random, deserted parking lot. And then realizing we didn’t know the way home, so we drove aimlessly, for, like, 45 minutes. And then panicking when we kept seeing the gas needle going down. That kind of stupid.”

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he was naming a memory that you no doubt remember as well, it was near traumatizing. But there was something in him that didn’t want you to forget. He didn’t want himself to forget. Because…

If I forget someday, as if nothing is wrong,

Our future will be empty and sad.

It’s not that I want to forget you.

Ah, he made a mental note to switch to his Notes app later.

“I… I missed you too.”

Jihoon couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his cheeks, almost to the point of straining them. It was already so late and he still had enough function in his brain to know he ought to cut this short now. Otherwise, he’d be on the phone with you for an ungodly amount of time. “I have to sleep now, but. I just. I couldn’t not tell you. That’s all.”

“Okay.” Your voice sounded so small, he had to press his phone closer to his ear to ensure he didn’t miss anything.

“Get some sleep, firefly. Or should I call you, Dr. Firefly now?”

“That sounds like a cartoon villain.”

He laughed hard at that. You would say that. “Alright, we’ll just go with firefly then.”

‘We’ felt good on his tongue.

“Night, night, Jihoonie.”

“Sleep well, firefly.”

He told you he needed to sleep, but with the way that he was running on sheer endorphins from finally releasing some of that pressure inside of him, sleep was the furthest thing on his mind. Instead, he imagined you getting some well-deserved rest, wondering what kind of dreams you hoped to have.

You were falling asleep, he was falling in love.

──────────────────

In less than 24 hours, he was going to see you in person for the first time in years, no more needing to find YouTube videos or podcasts or news articles or social media posts.

Tomorrow, he’ll be face to face with you.

And the dorm was in chaos.

“He should wear the white button down!”

“No, he should wear something funky, with cool patterns!”

“What? Absolutely not, hyung! Jihoon-hyung looks best in plain clothing, his skin shines that way!”

“Well, he’s been avoiding his skincare, so that might not be the best route to go down.”

“Hoon is handsome no matter what!”

Jihoon was exhausted. Why were his members more invested in this than he was?

Even Soonyoung was getting giddy. And that was a problem. When it came to you, Soonyoung was his voice of reason, but after he relayed the phone call he had with you, Soonyoung was easily won over by your: ‘I missed you too.’

“I knew it!” The tiger had exclaimed.

(Jihoon wasn’t sure whether he did.)

Junhui was thriving off of the chaos and was now leaping across the wooden floor, with Jeonghan quickly on his tail, trying to coerce him into stopping and failing miserably. Seokmin was still trying to convince Seungkwan that a funky pattern was like how, in nature, peacocks showed off to their mates—“he’s not a bird, hyung!”—while Soonyoung kept interjecting saying that Jihoon was attractive no matter what so he could just wear a plastic bag (which earned him a gentle slap by Seokmin). Mingyu disappeared for a moment after Wonwoo’s off-handed comment about Jihoon’s skin, only to return with his skincare products that Jihoon knew were going to be slapped on him soon enough. Seungcheol kept repeating in an exasperated tone, “Stop fighting, we already got a noise complaint this week,” while Jisoo and Minghao were probably off in Jihoon’s closet trying to establish an outfit for him without his consent. Hansol was on his phone, noise-canceling earphones on, completely uninvolved in what was going on. Chan was only goading on whoever was the loudest in the moment (currently, Junhui).

Jihoon piped up. “Do I get an opinion on this?”

In near perfect synchronization (including the boys in his room), everyone responded with a, “No!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

God, tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

[continue reading here]