#or maybe I'll decide to write a real fanfiction about it

[wiverly]

OP 1137

1.

2.

Me: Oda, Oda, can we have Shanks? Oda: We already have Shanks. The Wish version of Shanks that we already have:

3.

[aerkame]

Alright I read your request rules and I’m ready to request!

Wally Darling x Curious Reader

You know that little fic you made where you wrote the puppets coming into the real world? (I commented on it!)——I hope you wouldn’t mind me trying to branch off it! Imaging it happening to me, I would actually like to inspect Wally since he’s clearly not human. Of course, with consent. I would open his mouth- see what’s inside, touch his felt, his hair, all of it.

And I’d imagine he’d be curious about us too.

Sorry for this being a bit late, I wanted a short break from writing and drawing all day. Also I'm perfectly fine with that being branched off of! Most of my previous posts are kind of like foundations for future fics and requests to go off of.

Also for the sake of simplicity I will just call this an AU(Alternate Universe). The Alive AU. It's exactly what it sounds like, the puppets come to life but as their cartoon selves in the real world and are capable of going back to their own world at any time. (Wally needs to do that though or they're stuck, he knows what he's doing). I'm also doing this so that in the future when we do have answers to Welcome Home, it won't interfere with theories or what is considered "canon". This request is based on a previous post (linked below this), for context.

Just a Little Look

___________________________________________________________

Out of all the other 'puppets', Wally was the one you were most curious and cautious about. It wasn't that he ate differently, it wasn't because his eyes looked different from the rest, and it wasn't because he was always staring at you. No, it was the way he acted. He acted like he's done this before. The whole going into this world and not being a normal puppet bit. You decided that you might as well ask Wally if you could feel him or look inside his mouth...maybe not that first one though, that might come out as weird to him and the others. It's not like he had a reason to say no really, you were just curious.

The 'puppet' with an Elvis cut was sitting down on your couch one leg crossed over the other like the distinguished dude that he was, face buried in a newspaper from this morning. You don't remember teaching him how to read the newspaper, where did he even get that? "Hey Wally..." You shuffled your foot a bit, getting somewhat anxious. "Can I look in your mouth?"

"Hmm?" He looked up from reading the paper with an almost dreamy look to him. "Can I look in your mouth?" You repeated the question, this time he heard you as his head tilted to the side. "Now what would you want to look in my mouth for?" His voice was as calm as usual, though he did have a bit of a smirk today.

"I'm just curious is all, you're not like the others and I've never seen what you guys look like on the inside." You gestured to the inside of your mouth, sticking your tongue out. Wally slowly got up from the couch and leaned over you, smirk still lingering on his face. "Well, I don't see why not, but I'll only let you look inside me if you let me look inside you." You nodded, excited to finally get a look. "Alright, sounds fair." You responded as Wally folded up the newspaper and neatly placed it on the coffee table.

Bending down, Wally opened his mouth quite a bit to let you look, making a small "Ahhh~" like a child would when letting a doctor look at their throat. You peered over to see inside. It was what a normal puppet mouth would look like save for the small black void at the back of the 'throat'. You're not even going to question how Wally speaks or eats, nothing surprises you anymore at this point. Kind of weird to see what is basically a tiny void though.

He closed his mouth once you were done looking before leaning closer to softly grab your face in his hands. It wasn't what you'd thought it'd feel like. You were expecting something like felt, but that wasn't it. It was some other material you've never felt before, it was soft and smooth like silk, but not in a sense that it was fabric. "I believe it's my turn to see the inside of your mouth now." You nodded quietly and opened your mouth as wide as you could, showing off your canines and molars.

It was awkwardly quiet in the living room for a while and you slowly found yourself leaning further and further into the soft hands that held your head up earning a small chuckle from Wally. "Tired?" You nodded. It's been a rough week both from your job getting busy and you being busy at the house trying to keep your new guests out of trouble. "It's like I'm taking care of a bunch of kids.." You mumbled into his hands.

"How about you take a good nap then, you'll be up and full of that energy you need." There it was again. You could feel him staring at you with those eyes. You were too tired to say anything this time though and opted for just getting up and heading to your room. Leaving behind a still smirking Wally.

____________________________________________________________

I told you guys, I write medium to long posts even if they take a while.

Next up? Barnaby and Wally teach the dear reader how to slow dance. :)

[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]

[mjparkerwriting]

author ask tag

Thank you @the-inkwell-variable and @oliolioxenfreewrites for tagging me. I had to think hard on these answers.

I'll use my current WIP for this. It was once called TLBH. Now, its WotG. We will see if it changes again.

What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?

I think the main lesson would be that there's always something bigger than you, and sometimes you have to decide whether or not that something is great enough for you to change as a person. My characters go through and will continue to go through a lot. They are constantly tested and while some of them rise above it all--no question about it, others struggle with every step. Some are never able to stand up at all.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

I used the real world as inspiration. I really like history and religion, so I studied tons of cultures and languages and historical events. I have a lot of mythology, history, and religion/philosophy books and links saved because I'm just so fascinated with how everyone sees and understands things differently.

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help the reader grow as a person?

It is multiple POV, but without giving away too much, I’d say that every character is searching for purpose and acceptance in one way or another. I think I, as the writer, want to show how motivations change as we change as people, and that's okay. I want to tell a story that inspires people to love, change, fight, and live.

How many chapters is your story going to have?

I'm currently looking at a series with five books total. This first story will have 35-36 chapters.

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

All OG. I want to publish traditionally, but we'll see what happens.

When did you start writing?

Since I could string together semi complex thoughts and also hold a pencil lol. I've always liked writing. I started writing fanfics some time in high school, maybe around age 15. If you want to get technical, though, my first fanfiction was in elementary school and it was about young Jack Sparrow before he became THEE Jack Sparrow.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

WRITE! Who cares if you think it's ass?

Write the story you always wanted to read but could never find.

Talk to other writers. Make friends. It can be very lonely, but having people that understand what you're doing and are also going through the same process is helpful.

I'm still working on the last one.

I follow a ton of writers on here, so I think I'll tag a bunch of people just for the hell of it.

@frantheram @mrbexwrites @stargazingdustbunny @marsh0mallows99th @cwritesfiction @writingamongther0ses @paintedbutton @inkednotebook @lukas-wrld @writinglittlebeasts @vicwriting @kae-luna @the-orangeauthor @kckramer @ghost-type-writer @phynewrites @wildswrites @jamieanovels @tabswrites

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Better Than Flowers

A Smutty Stoncy fanfiction

18+ MINORS DNI

A/N: Had to write it. Set after season 2. Boy, I hope I'm getting better at writing smut. Constructive criticism only, please. 🫣

Summary: In which Nancy Wheeler offers Steve Harrington a proper apology. . .in the form of Jonathan Byers.

"Oh my god! You've got me now. Why are you still talking shit about Steve?!" Nancy snapped at Jonathan.

They had just gotten together, and she thought for sure Jonathan would stop talking about Steve like that. . .especially after the way they hurt him. It still made Nancy sick to her stomach to think about sometimes.

"Don't you think it's weird that he's spending so much time with Dustin now? It's a little sad," Jonathan said.

"No, I think it's sweet," Nancy said.

"Really?" Jonathan scoffed.

"Jonathan, you do realize that we hurt him, right?" Nancy asked.

"He's a big boy, Nancy," Jonathan scoffed. "He'll find someone new. I mean, he's got it all the house, the good looks. . .he'll be fine. In the meantime, it just looks pathetic - "

Nancy pushed Jonathan off of her bed and onto the floor.

"He's not stalking me, watching me from afar, or begging to get back with me," Nancy snapped. "He saved your life, my life. . .he took a hit for those kids. . .what does he have to do to prove to you that he's a good guy? . . . You know, I'm starting to think that Steve was right to break your camera. He wasn't the bully. . .you are for thinking that he's an asshole for having something you don't. . .a big house. You know, he would give it all up for parents who gave a damn, something you of all people should understand."

"I didn't realize you were in love with him," Jonathan said.

"Maybe I am," Nancy said. "Maybe I let other people get into my head. . .maybe I shouldn't let other people decide how I feel. I know I'm responsible for my choices, but what about yours? It hurts me, Jonathan, to hear you talk about him like that because he was. . . is still an important part of my life. You know, he's not a bad guy, and you know he didn't have a problem with you until you took those photos. I don't understand why you still have a problem with him. I'm here with you, aren't I?"

Jonathan sat on his knees, looking at her with sad, remorseful eyes.

"I'm sorry, Nancy. How can I make this up to you?" He asked.

"You judged me for sleeping with Steve. . .maybe you should get on your knees and tell him how sorry you are with your mouth," Nancy scoffed.

"Okay," Jonathan said softly and without hesitation.

Nancy turned to look at him in confusion and surprise. She didn't think he'd take her seriously. . .she wasn't even sure she was being serious.

"What?"

"I'll do it. . .for you. . .if he let's me," Jonathan muttered.

She looked at him and squinted her eyes at him. Maybe the real reason that Jonathan couldn't shut up about Steve wasn't because he wanted what Steve had but because he wanted Steve, and he was ashamed to admit it. Nancy moved to the edge of the bed, looking down on him with a smirk.

"I hope he makes you beg for it," she said and pulled him up off the floor. "Come on, let's go."

They stood on Steve’s doorstep, staring at it for the longest time. He was here, judging by the fact that his car was in the driveway. Nancy swallowed. She would totally understand if he turned them away but she really wanted to make it up to him, and Jonathan wanted to make it up to her. Although, she was pretty sure his motives weren't entirely selfless. Nancy squared her shoulders and knocked on the door. Steve answered the door in a pair of gray sweats and a red sweater. His face was still slightly bruised from his fight with Billy.

"Nancy? Jonathan? Is something wrong? Do I need to get our bat?" He asked.

"No, nothing bad. We kind of just needed to talk with you," Nancy said.

"Oh my god! Am I pregnant?" Steve asked and then frowned. "Wait, no, that doesn't make sense. Are you - I mean - ,"

"I am not pregnant, and neither are you," Nancy laughed. "Although, there was a false alarm."

"I had a false alarm?" Steve asked.

"No, I had a false alarm," she giggled.

"I'm sorry, I just woke up from a nap," Steve said. "Come on in."

"It does take him a while to wake up. I once had a full conversation with him, only to find out he fell back to sleep halfway through," Nancy told Jonathan.

"Yeah, I don't remember any of that," Steve scoffed.

They moved towards the living room, where Steve collapsed on the couch, throwing his arm over the back. His legs fell open casually. Nancy's eyes caught Jonathan's, and he swallowed thickly. Nancy brought her focus back to Steve. Judging by blankets sprawled out on the couch and the pillow, Steve had been napping on the couch.

"We came here to apologize to you," Nancy said.

"What? Seriously, Nancy, it's - ,"

"It's not okay! If you say that one more time, I'm going to kick your ass!" Nancy exclaimed, and then her face softened. "Let me get this out, please, I need to say it. I need to take responsibility for my own actions, and Jonathan does, too."

Steve crossed one leg over the other.

"Okay."

"It wasn't okay. . .how I handled things. The one year anniversary of the night we slept together was coming up, and as much as I wanted to celebrate it with you, I couldn't do it. I couldn't keep pretending like everything was okay and that Barb wasn't gone. I didn't know how to explain it to you, and I wanted so badly to tell you that I do love you, but I wasn't sure how to do that without thinking of Barb," Nancy said and sighed. "I do love you, but I also love Jonathan, and he scared me when he said that I would end up like parents. I thought he was right. . .I don't want to be like that."

"I had no right to say that," Jonathan said sheepishly. "Or all the other things I've said about you. I made a snap judgment about you and Nancy when I didn't want to admit how ashamed I was of my own actions. You had every right to break my camera, and I think that's why I'm still so angry. . .not at you, but at me for being so wrong. Even though Nancy makes her own choices, I did have a hand in messing up your relationship with Nancy. I'm sorry for that, too."

"You were never a shitty boyfriend, Steve Harrington, and I want to make it up to you, we both do," Nancy said.

"How?" Steve asked.

Jonathan moved in front of Steve and got down on his knees. He moved his hand to Steve’s knee, caressing it.

"If you'll let me, I want to show you and Nancy how sorry I am," Jonathan said softly.

"You want. . .," Steve trailed off, blushing. "You want to suck my dick?"

"If you don't want me to. . .," Jonathan said quickly.

"No, No, I do! Jesus, okay, as much as I love flowers. . ." Steve said.

"This is way better, right?" Nancy asked, her eyes twinkling.

"Yeah, and prettier, too," Steve said and cupped Jonathan's face.

Nancy watched with dark eyes as Steve rubbed his thumb over Jonathan's bottom lip, causing it to open.

"I know what you like, Steve," Nancy purred.

"This is what you want, right?" Steve whispered to Jonathan.

"Yeah," Jonathan said, his voice thick.

Steve looked at him as he continued to rub his thumb over Jonathan's lip, and he slowly nudged it in his mouth. Jonathan licked tentatively at the tip of his thumb. Steve now looked at him through dark, heavily lidded eyes. He licked his lips and then smirked, pulling back.

"We need a word, though," Steve said. "If it becomes too much for you. Do you have a word in mind, pretty boy?"

Jonathan looked at him in confusion and then thought about it.

"Monster," he muttered.

"Yeah? That's a good one. . .how many times have you thought about it? How many times have you thought about getting split in half. . .getting absolutely destroyed by me and my monster of a cock?" Steve asked.

"Too many," he said and swallowed. "Too many times."

"Yeah, you know, there are many times where I caught you looking, and I told myself that you couldn't possibly be looking there, but now. . .have you wondered about how big it is?" Steve asked.

"Yeah. . ."

Nancy could see that Steve was starting to get hard. The sweats didn't leave a whole lot to the imagination in that department. Nancy smirked the first time she had seen him. . .all of him. She had been so worried that it wouldn't fit, and suddenly Steve had been so afraid of breaking her. She remembered the way she had snapped out of it and thrusted her hips up against him, telling him to enter her already. She could tell by the way Jonathan shifted. He was starting to feel it, too. Nancy could feel her own arousal building up between her legs and pooling in her stomach.

"You know. . .you wronged Nancy once before. . .you took something without her permission," Steve said. "She deserves a little taste. . .she deserves to punish you, too. . ."

"What?" Jonathan asked.

"How do you want to punish him, Nancy?" Steve asked.

Nancy was flustered for a moment. Of course, Steve would make it about her. His hazel eyes twinkled, but they were dark, too. He wanted this. She swallowed, and she couldn't get the idea out of her head.

"I want to spank him," she said.

"Oh, I was hoping you'd say that," Steve said.

"I want you completely naked and bent over the couch," she said to Jonathan, and he paused. "Now!"

"It should have been you," Steve said. "I was so angry. . .but it should have been you to handle his punishment. I thought you might want the chance now."

Nancy smiled at him, a wave of affection for him slammed into her. God, she really did love him, and she knew that now. Jonathan stood up, stripped, and positioned himself over the back of the couch. Nancy licked her lips, enjoying the way that Jonathan could lock eyes with Steve with his face pressed into the cushions. She came up behind him and ran her hands over his bare ass.

"Perfect. . .," she whispered. "Now, it's going to be the same for me. . .if it's too much just say the word."

"I can take it," Jonathan said. "I deserve it."

"You're a bad boy, aren't you, Jonathan?" She asked. "You did something naughty. . .you deserved to be spanked like the bad boy that you are?"

"Yes!" Jonathan moaned.

"I think the anticipation might be killing him, Nance," Steve smirked.

"Good," she said.

She raised her hand and brought it down on Jonathan's ass with a loud stinging slap. Jonathan groaned.

"You felt that? Because I heard that," Steve teased and brushed hair out of Jonathan's eyes.

Nancy smirked and brought her hand down on his rear again. And again. And again. His butt was very pink and slowly turning red.

"You didn't have my permission to take my picture, or call me a slut, or tell me that I'm going to end up miserable like my parents! You had no right!" Nancy yelled.

Her hand was starting to ache, but she felt like she had to continue. Jonathan was sobbing into the couch cushion.

"Naughty boy, Byers," Steve taunted.

Nancy pressed herself up against Jonathan's ass, rubbing one of his cheeks with her hand.

"You still doing good?" She asked.

She was aching, not just her hand, but in between her legs. She was also very wet, practically soaking through her panties.

"Yeah," he whimpered.

Steve moved around the couch to stand behind Nancy, getting a good look at Jonathan.

"Ooh, very red," he replied.

"If I had a dick, I'd slap his ass with it," Nancy replied.

Steve pressed his erection into her own ass and she sighed, pressing back up against it. He gripped her hips and pressed his lips to her ear.

"Maybe I let you borrow mine? Hmm? I slide myself right in between your legs, and you use me however you want to," he whispered.

"Fuck," she whimpered as his hands slid underneath her shirt ever so slightly.

"But I think if we keep going like this. . .he's going to come and we don't want that yet, do we?" Steve asked, whispering in her ear. "This is all for me."

He pulled away, and she let out a disappointed moan. He slapped his hand against Jonathan's ass.

"Fuck," Jonathan moaned.

"Get on your knees for me, pretty boy," Steve said.

He sat back on the couch again, and Jonathan knelt in front of him, still naked.

"What do you want me to do first?" Jonathan asked.

"Well, first, when you take me into your mouth, if it gets to be too much, one tap against my thigh to keep going, and two taps to pull out, then if you want to stop completely say monster," Steve said.

"Okay," Jonathan said.

"How mean do you want me to be to you?" Steve asked softly.

"As mean as possible," Jonathan said.

Nancy sat on the recliner next to them, giving a good view of their positions and their faces. Steve ran his hand through Jonathan's hair, smiling at him. Jonathan really wanted this, Nancy noted. He was truly remorseful and truly wanting of them both. He didn't want to feel ashamed, and he didn't want to be anything like his father. He hoped that punishing himself like this would prove that. He certainly didn't want to hate everyone in the way that his father did. Jonathan closed his eyes as Steve’s touch. He was in control as much as Steve was. They couldn't control what happened out there but in here. . .they were in charge. They knew what they wanted, and in this moment, all three of them were taking it. Steve gripped his hair.

"You going to be a good boy and take it for me?" Steve muttered.

He leaned close to Jonathan's face, his lips inches away from his.

"Yes."

Jonathan moved towards Steve to close the gap, but suddenly, Steve pulled away.

"If you do good for me, I'll reward you," he said. "Now, pull it out."

Jonathan stared at him for a moment before he realized what he was talking about. He reached over to free Steve from the confines of his sweats and boxers. Jonathan stared at Steve's hard, already leaking cock with wide eyes. He pulled Steve's sweats and boxers down, tossing them aside. Nancy bit her lip, struggling not to laugh. With the red sweater and no bottoms, it looked like Steve was - it looked like he had caught onto her way of thinking. Steve gave her a look and ripped off the sweater. He was now just as naked as Jonathan. Nancy clutched her skirt, fisting the cloth at the sight of her two men naked before her with Jonathan kneeling in front of Steve.

"You know you want to," Steve smirked at her.

Nancy shimmed out of her panties and threw it at Steve's face. His smirk grew when he realized how wet her underwear was. She pulled her skirt up and spread her legs for Steve to see as Jonathan began. Jonathan started out with gentle licks on the tip of Steve’s dick, his tongue swirling around the head. Steve’s eyes darkened, and he sighed.

"Fuck," Steve said softly.

Nancy ran her fingers over her entrance, her fingertips brushing up against her folds as she teased herself and Steve. He wasn't sure who to look at. . .her or Jonathan. He locked eyes with Jonathan, glancing every now and then at Nancy. She slid her fingers in. . .just as slow as Jonathan was being with Steve. He gasped as Jonathan moved further down his length. The pad of her finger brushed up against her clit and suddenly she was frustrated with herself. She urged herself to go faster, and Jonathan, too. . .no, she was punishing herself. She deserved this.

"Steve," she moaned.

"Fuck. . .Jonathan," he gasped and shot a smirk at Nancy. "Oh, you want to take me all in. . .I can feel it. . .you've wanted me for so long. . .you want to savor this moment, don't you, pretty boy? You want to taste every inch of me. . .but you can't not without my permission. . .isn't that right?"

He put his hand through Jonathan's hair, curled his fingers into it, and yanked Jonathan's head back ever so slightly. It was just enough to pull Jonathan's mouth off of him. Nancy pulled her fingers out and her pussy ached for more.

"Steve," Jonathan whimpered.

"Yeah, you want it badly, don't you? Well, you can't have it without my permission," Steve said.

"Please," Jonathan begged. "I need to. . ."

"You're desperate to cum," Steve cooed. "Pretty boy."

"Yes, yes, I want it," Jonathan whispered. "I want you."

"Then you'll have me," Steve said softly and pushed his face back down.

Nancy slid her fingers back inside of her and watched as Jonathan wrapped his mouth around Steve’s cock once more. He went further down and moved faster this time. Nancy matched his speed, circling her clitoris with her fingers and then her knuckles. . .encouraging it. . .Her arousal building up inside of her, like a wild fire, and she was certainly very hot. She bucked her hips into her own hand as she fucked herself while watching Jonathan fuck Steve with his perfect mouth. Steve’s hand was still in Jonathan's hair, and his mouth was open in a perfect o. His eyelids were heavy. God, they were so beautiful.

"Fuck," Nancy whined.

She needed more. . .she needed friction. She needed to move her fucking hips. She ripped off the rest of her clothes and grabbed Steve’s pillow off the couch. She got on the floor, braced herself, and tucked the pillow between her thighs. She rocked her hips against the pillow, and she could see them both watching her. Jonathan groaned and moved his head faster.

"Goddamnit, Nancy. . .what are you doing to us?" Steve asked.

"Imagine me taking turns riding you both," Nancy gasped. "Riding you both until you're spent."

She could see it herself. Jonathan underneath her. . .then Steve. Both of them would be sweaty, red-faced, and weeping underneath her.

"I didn't say you could touch yourself, Jonathan," Steve said. "You don't cum until I say you can. . .not until I do. Are you okay with that?"

With his dick still in Jonathan's mouth, Jonathan gave one tap against Steve’s thigh to let him know that he wanted to keep going. Now, with both hands on Steve’s thigh, Jonathan took him all the way in his mouth, and Steve moaned as tears fell from Jonathan's eyes. Nancy humped furiously, making eye contact with Steve as she spilled on the pillow and cried for both of them. Steve came into Jonathan's mouth a moment later, and Jonathan pulled off of him, swallowing.

"Please, I'm almost. . ." Jonathan groaned.

Steve pulled him into his lap and slammed his lips to his. Steve had barely touched Jonathan's dick before Jonathan was emptying into his hand. When they broke the kiss, Steve took his own fingers into his mouth and started sucking Jonathan's cum off of his hand.

"Hmm, you taste good," Steve said and placed a kiss on Jonathan's cheek before nuzzling his neck. "You did so good for me. . .for both of us. Apologies accepted."

Nancy stood up and blushed at the stain on Steve’s pillow.

"You better keep this one, and I hope you sleep on it, thinking of me every night," Nancy said.

"Nancy Wheeler is a freak," Steve said, taking the pillow and licking the cum stain. "Then again, so am I."

"Proud to be," Nancy grinned.

Nancy cupped Steve's face and kissed him, tasting herself on his tongue.

"Better than flowers?" She asked.

"Much better," he said, beaming. "Come on, it's time I take care of you guys now. Let's get clean. Maybe. . .maybe you guys can wash my hair."

Nancy stepped back as they got up off the couch. She gasped and put a hand over her chest.

"You'd let us wash the hair? The sacred Harrington Hair? That's a big step, Steve," Nancy said.

"Fuck off, Nancy," he laughed. "I just - I just want you guys to know how much this meant to me. . .that's all. . .how much you two have always meant to me."

Nancy and Jonathan shared a look before smiling at Steve.

"Definitely better than flowers," Jonathan said.

Steve took both of their hands and led them up stairs, giggling.

"What?" Nancy asked.

"Just wondering how Jonathan's going to explain to his mother why he's walking funny. . .oh my god, the welts he's going to have," Steve laughed.

"Or why he won't sit," Nancy giggled.

"I'll tell her I got stung by a bee," Jonathan muttered.

"Buzz, buzz," Nancy said and nibbled at Jonathan's ear.

All three of them laughed and disappeared into the bathroom. Yes, this is how it should have happened, Nancy thought with a happy sigh.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

July Creator of the Month: Eadanga

Please welcome this month’s Creator of the Month: @eadanga

Each month, CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers or artists. The writer or artist is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page. Past COTM's can be found here.

Tumblr Blog Name: Eadanga How do you want to be known on Tumblr? Esang

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog Masterlist

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

I don't remember the year, but I started playing when it was only The Crown & The Flame, The Freshman, and Most Wanted. I thought it was a rip-off of Episode because many apps like that exist. The first book I started playing was The Crown & The Flame, and then I got bored of it, so I tried The Freshman, and I was hooked. Been playing ever since 😃

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined about four years ago. I was in a Choices group on Facebook and saw people sharing fanfics. I first thought it was an ad, but when I looked, it was a fanfic, and it was amazing. That's when I joined so I could read more, and then I posted one of my own that I wrote.

3- How did you pick your blog name? 

Literally, it's just my name. I didn't think I'd be here long, not to mention posting. It's the first letter of my name, Esang, and my last name, Adanga. Maybe one day I'll change it 🤣😂

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!  

This was my first post. I saw people making stories in the Choices group and decided to make one of my own. I didn't think it would get much attention, but it did 😁

5- Do you write fanfiction, create fan art, or are you one of those really gifted people who do both? 

I write fanfiction, but I’m not really good at making art, lol

6- How long have you been creating for Choices and for any other fandoms?

Let's see, I think I started in 2020. Choices is the only fandom I write for.

7- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to create for?

The Freshman and The Royal Romance will always be my number one favorite books to read and write for 😁

8- Share your first Choices fanfic or fan art that you posted with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were creating it today?

This was my favorite, and I'll never change anything about it. It is so romantic, hehe 😍

9- What is your favorite piece of fiction or art that you created? 

This one wrote it for @flowerpowell, and even though she doesn't post anymore, it was so much fun to write something for her. 

10- Do you have a fic/art that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to do well but found it could use a little more love?

It's definitely my Deepest Desire series. I didn't expect people to enjoy it, especially @littlegreenmoo, who was having a field day with that series 🤣. Chris's Journal could have been better; a little bit more detail would have made it pop.

11- (WRITERS) If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? 

I hate angst, and I haven't written smut since my Deepest Desire series 🤣 so fluff all the way. I love happy endings 😁

12 - Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

I put some of me in my MCs, like when they're cooking, cause I love to cook 😁

13 - What element of writing/art do you struggle with most?

Keeping up with a schedule. I make one, but then real life gets in the way, and I gotta change it.

14 - Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Eternal Love, I haven't written for that in a long time. I just got caught up with other fanfics, and then you lose inspiration, but I will get back to it one day.

15 - If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to see your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you show them first? 

Yes, I would love to show them, but I've shown my work without people asking. I've shown my best friend my work; she didn't ask. I just showed it to her, and she enjoyed it. I've shown my mom, too. She constantly told me to send it somewhere and get paid even though I only write for fun, not as a job. I stopped showing her after that because she was tired of hearing that.

16 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing or art? Are there any artists that influence you?

@maxattackpowell and @drivenbyfantasy are both no longer here, but their fanfics inspired mine. I’m grateful to both of them for that. 

17- (WRITERS)  Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series? 

The Graduate would make a great movie or Choices book, hehe.

18- Do you write original fiction or create non-fandom art? 

Choices is my first fandom.

19-  What other hobbies do you have?

I love cooking and baking, watching anime (I'm a total anime nerd 🤣), spending time with my baby @choicesgodfanatic, reading Archie comics, watching cartoons, praise dancing, and writing episode stories. 

20- BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to)

Thanks to everyone who enjoys all my stories, and don't ever worry about me leaving cause I'm here to stay. Choices is why I met my amazing love @choicesgodfanatic. It's part of our love story, and I'll never give up on it.

Plus, I've met some wonderful people here and never want to leave them. So glad you all enjoy my fanfics, and look out for many more cause more is coming your way 😁

[imiwrites]

BESTIE you want ken fic ideas I got Ken fic ideas-

SPOILERS BTW

I need a 'Reader is sick and Ken takes care of you' fic so BAD!!! Something about golden retriever man being good husband material makes me FOAM AT THE MOUTH

Like we all agree he's lon a super good journey of self-discovery after the end of the movie. And that's super healthy!!! He deserves to figure who he is as a person and not just an accessory 🥺 But in doing so, he becomes extremely compassionate towards other Barbies and Kens too! So just the idea of Ken running around, being the friendly neighbor type, doing errands and whatnot because he discovers he likes helping people, and maybe he even runs errands for the reader!! Like if the reader is super swamped with her profession (what ever it may be) and Ken starts getting her groceries, and he polished her car, and cleans up her home. Like REAL malewife material.

And perhaps that causes a really sweet bond to form, and that's why when she ends up getting sick, Ken is the one to swoop in. His job at beach can wait, for he has a very big task at hand: taking care of his favorite Barbie Girl ever and making sure she feels better in no time 🥺 bonus points if it's rare that anyone gets sick in Barbie Land, so he's super worried 😭

Feel free to ignore this but if you don't, thank you for the fic in advance!! 🩷

Bed Rest

Ken x Fem!Reader

barie spoilers below the cut!!!!

Sypnosis: After Stereotypical Barbie left Barbieland, Ken decided to figure out who he was. Helping people was one of his new favourite things, and when a certain Barbie falls sick, Ken drops everything to be there for her.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Descriptions of fainting, not proofread, FLUFF

A/N: This is my first time writing on Tumblr and I lowkey have no clue how it works but it's fine!!! Anyway I hope you enjoy, I haven't written fanfiction in a while so I hope it's alright! I'll get to the other requests tomorrow <3

masterlist

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It took Ken some time to realise that he was enough, or ‘Kenough’, as he’d put it. After Barbie had left Barbieland, it took him a while to feel himself again. But with it came a lot of realisations. He realised that doing beach was a lot easier when his mind wasn’t focused on Barbie, and he was able to talk to people he wouldn’t usually notice. It was a nice change, Ken had to admit.

He also realised how much he enjoyed being around other Barbies and Kens, whether it would be at a big blowout party, or cheering on the Barbies as they played volleyball. Friendship was another fairly new thing to Ken. While he’d known everyone for almost his entire existence, he realised he never really knew them. Being able to understand and relate to his fellow Barbies and Kens was an experience he never thought he would have. Without his focus on Barbie, he found that being able to lend a hand to a friend was also another thing he was quite good at. And often, it came with a small reward, which always kept a smile on Ken’s face. 

He’s constantly seen helping out his friends. Whether it be fixing Lawyer Barbie’s car, or helping another Ken’s beach, he always enjoyed being able to lend a hand to a friend. It was always left him with a bubbly feeling in his stomach, and a grin permanently stuck on his face. Who knew helping a friend would be so enjoyable?

He also enjoyed lending a hand to Chef Barbie. She had the sweetest smile, and after every task he helped her with, he would get a reward in the form of food. And company. Ken appreciated the company more than the food, not that he would ever admit this out loud to Barbie. Sure, the pastries were downright delicious, but nothing could replace the soft-sound laugh she let out at his jokes, or the look of anticipation on her face when he was telling her a story. 

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“Thanks Ken!” Barbie waved from the window of her Dreamhouse, watching as Ken held two bags of groceries out, undoubtedly for a new recipe she wanted to try out. 

“It’s not a problem, Barbie. I’m happy to help.” A shy smile graced his lips as he placed the groceries down on her kitchen bench. He’d turned to leave, when the call from Barbie stopped him.

“Why don’t you stay here while I cook, I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Ken was suppressing a smile, “I don’t know, there might be some more people to help out.” It was a lie. There was no one else to help. Ken was going to stay regardless.

“Oh, sit you,” Barbie giggled, pulling out a chair, “You’ll be helping me by keeping me company. And being my taste tester, of course.” 

Ken paused, as if to think about it, but the both of them knew he was going to stay. “Seeing as you really need me, it would be impolite for me to go now,” Ken explained, as he walked towards the pulled-out chair, completely mesmerised by Barbie as she started combining ingredients in a mixing bowl. A strong smell of chocolate filled the room, and Ken let out a soft hum of delight.

“Smells good?” Barbie turned around, smiling, and Ken nodded his head eagerly. 

“Always does. What exactly are you making?”

Barbie hummed, turning back around to place the mixture onto a tray. “It’s a surprise, but it’s going to taste amazing, I promise.”

“I’m sure it will, I mean it already smells so good.” Ken stood up from his chair, making his way to the kitchen. “D’you want me to wash those dishes for you? Get it out of your way?” 

“If you’d like to, that would be perfect. Thanks Ken!” Barbie beamed, sliding the dish into the oven. 

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“Woah! Barbie, I know I say this everytime, but this is most definitely the best thing you’ve made so far!” Ken said, in between bites of what Barbie had called a ‘Brownkie’, the perfect mix between a brownie and a cookie. 

Barbie giggled, “Thanks Ken, I’m glad to know it tastes good. I’m going to bring it to Barbie’s blowout tonight, think they’d enjoy it?” Once a week, President Barbie would host a blowout with all the other Barbies. After some discussion, it was agreed that a party every night was too much, and only holding a party once a week allowed for more excitement. 

“Oh they’d more than enjoy it, trust me!” Ken exclaimed. “I don’t know how you do it, everything you cook is always just perfect.”

Barbie shrugs. “Lots of practice.” She pauses, looking away before looking back at him. “Hey Ken?”

“Yeah?”

Barbie looked down at her hands, then looked back at him. “Do you think you’d wanna come to Barbie’s blowout with me?” 

Ken’s eyes widened. Whatever he thought she was going to say, it most certainly wasn’t that. “I- uhh, yeah of course!” Identical grins appeared on their faces. 

“So, I’ll see you there tonight?” Barbie asked, and Ken nodded vigorously. 

“Thank you for the Brownkie, I gotta get ready, but I’ll see you there!” 

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As she was getting ready, Barbie could feel a small pounding in her head. It hurt. She was unsure what it was, she’d never felt something like that before. She shook her head, pushing it out of her mind. It was President Barbie’s blowout, she couldn’t be thinking of silly things like that.

She walked towards the kitchen, grabbing the platter of goodies she’d made earlier, including the Brownkies that Ken had enjoyed. The pounding had only gotten worse as she continued to get ready. She tried to ignore it, she really did, but the more she focused on ignoring the pain, it had just gotten worse. Barbie clutched her head as she walked, the platter precariously balanced on her free arm. 

The sound of music filled her ears, but only made her head pain worse. What was this thing, and why did it have to come now? And why was the room spinning?

“Barbie!” She heard Ken call out, but she couldn’t quite place him. She felt… strange. She was almost positive she was standing still, but it felt like she’d was moving really fast. The lights hurt the pounding in her head, but the music had gotten quieter. She heard a faraway clang, and she looked to her arm, the tray of baked goods gone. Barbie could hear Ken calling her name, and she swore he was standing in front of her, but she couldn’t quite make it out. 

“Ken?” she whispered, a chill spreading throughout her body. She felt someone touch her arms, but it was too late. Barbie had collapsed into Ken’s arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Someone help!” Ken called out. He was stressed, which is something he should not be feeling. In fact, he was here for a stress free night with all the other Barbies and Kens, but of course, something like this had to happen. 

Barbie’s eyes fluttered open, and Ken let out a gasp of relief. 

“What happened?” her voice was soft. 

“I-I’m not sure, you looked really funny, a-and I was in front of you and it was like you couldn’t see me and then you just fell.”

Doctor Barbie came around the corner, assessing Chef Barbie. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. But from what I’ve learnt, it should be nothing. Just take it easy for a few days, and you’ll be fine.” Ken grinned, feeling relieved.

“Let me take you home. I’ll take care of you for the next few days.”

“Ken, you don’t have to do that, I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” Barbie smiled gratefully.

“Are you joking? I’m worrying a lot! Doctor Barbie just said she hasn’t seen anything like this! Barbies don’t get sick! I’m staying with you, and you aren’t leaving your bed until you get better!” 

“Ken, what about beach?” Barbie tilted her head. She knew how much he loved his job. 

“Beach is the last thing on my mind right now, I need to make sure you’re okay.” Ken smiled as he stood up, holding Barbie in his arms. 

“You know, I’m quite sure I’d be fine walking.” Barbie whispered, hiding her face in his neck out of embarrassment.

“Are you joking? I’m not taking that risk. Just relax, I’m taking care of you, and I’m sure you’ll be better in no time.”

[chobani-flip]

🤷‍♀️ wtf is wrong with people

i genuinely do not get what people get so up in arms about regarding love interests for buck, his sexuality and how permanent buck and tommy are or should be

there are so many ways to be queer and all of them are valid (yes, even if you're an asshole to others while living your own brand of queer, you're still queer, you're just also an asshole) <- this should not be new information but it sure seems like it might be for some people the way they behave

whether buck and tommy are monogamous or poly (tho i wouldn't really expect a canon poly relationship on a show that is so very uncomfortable even with casual sex), casual or exclusive, here for a long haul or break up in s8ep01, kinky or vanilla, doing DP or never touching each others' arseholes at all. what the FUCK does it matter?

there are so many ways to be queer, stop putting moral values on each and every one of them like you're trying to win some kind of One True Queer to rule them all contest with representation in media.

i'll be honest: it makes you look immature and pathetic.

and like, if you find yourself getting violently angry because a relationship is depicted on-screen that you dislike, or in a way you dislike? if you find yourself sending incensed asks/tweets/comments about this? maybe reconsider. maybe see if you want to be hugh laurie in this sketch. (cause that's what so many of you sound like) and please know that you can always change your mind and decide to stop being an asshole.

also: fanfiction is a thing that exists. if you don't fancy whatever is happening in canon, you can simply ignore it and write/imagine your own spin on it in fic. ... like, most of us are united in our loathing for the buckley parents and the belief that they have not done near enough reparations to be allowed unfettered access to their children's lives while the show seems to believe the opposite. all of us are free to act accordingly and we do.

but also be aware that if in the process of your headcanoning, you're vile about the very real identities and practices of real people, there will be consequences for that. like there are for any and all free speech. and you can always have a second think, say "im sorry that was a kneejerk reaction i did not think that through" and change your behavior after.

[cinnamontails-ff]

Writing Interview Tag Game

Thank you so much for the tag @roguishcat ❤ I love getting to chat about these things.

When did you start writing?

I know this sounds cheesy, but the answer is probably as soon as I could hold a pen. My grandma still has stacks of little stories I wrote (and illustrated ...) when I was a kid. Very cute, but I'm glad I gave up on drawing in the meantime.

I've been writing on and off ever since, but it wasn't until I was in my mid twenties that I decided I'd actively pursue a career in writing. I wrote a few original novels, none of which were ever successful in the world of traditional publishing, then got into fanfiction as a way of rekindling my joy. Once I'm done with my current fic, I'm ready to try with traditional publishing again. Maybe it'll work this time, maybe not, but I guess the bottom line is that I'll always write in some capacity.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I really like stories that are a little unsettling. Not horror, per se (I'm a coward), but those underlying creepy vibes, especially when they come wrapped up in beautiful language and actually end up culminating in something cool toward the end of the story. "Uprooted" by Naomi Novik comes to mind, "The Devil and the Dark Water" by Stuart Turton, and "Portrait of the Pale Elf" by @larvasmoon.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

Terry Pratchett is the person who first sold me on the English language. Prior to his books, I'd never seen anyone use English in such a fun, cheeky yet poignant way, and it's definitely something I find myself emulating (all while hopefully putting my own spin on it). I have been compared to him a few times and it's always made my day.

Oh, and I guess Stephen Sommers because people compare my fic to "The Mummy" a lot. Which honestly, is just as flattering.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

At my desk, with a mechanical keyboard. Not because I'm a hipster but because I have absolutely destroyed my laptop's keyboard and then the shop where I'd buy the replacement keys stopped selling my model and I refuse to replace the whole laptop.

I need a sense of quiet when I write. Usually, I write early in the morning before I go to work, and it's honestly my favorite time of the day. It's dark and quiet, I'm all alone, and the day still feels so fresh and full of possibility. I cannot write in public; I find it too distracting. Occasionally, when I'm very in the zone, I'll edit at work but it's never quite as productive.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Go and hunt that bitch down. I know many people love romanticizing their craft and if it helps them to light scented candles or play aesthetic playlists - go for it! For me, the most powerful tool is routine. Knowing that every morning I will sit down and I will write, whether I feel like it or not. Sometimes I drag my feet the whole time, sometimes things click into place and suddenly, I'm having the best time ever. But I will always put words on the page and for me, there's no better feeling than having written (past tense).

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

You probably know this, but I really, really love stories where a regular guy/gal saves the day. It makes me so happy to see the evil vampire lord taken out by the mousy accountant, the fountain pen striking harder than the sword. I think it's because I like to read about real people. People that you could have met in real life, that seem simple on the outside, but have all this strength locked up inside. It's why I dislike stories with picture perfect beauty goddesses that always have the perfect quip, always take out their opponents with 1 blow because they're just that special.

Normal people are special, too. You just need to look a little harder to see.

What is your reason for writing?

I believe it was Brandon Sanderson who said "Stories are like real life but with the boring parts removed". That has really resonated with me. I think the beautiful thing about stories is that they can portray very real issues and conflicts in a way that is infinitely more satisfying because it's all been arranged just so. It can give you closure, it can make you see something in an entirely new light without feeling confrontational. It's like a really, really good conversation with the author and I hope that's what my writing feels like as well.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Two things. I love when readers point out specific lines they enjoyed and I love it when they tell me they reread my work. The term "comfort read" makes me particularly happy because that's exactly how I reread my favorite stories as well.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I think the most important part to me is that my stories feel real. I dislike pretentious, over-the-top writing where you can tell the author is trying super hard to sound clever or sexy or just drowns you in heaps of cheap, undeserved drama that never leads anywhere. With my stories, I want things to feel earned. Natural. Maybe you wouldn't have made those choices, but it makes sense that these characters would have and now we're looking at the very real consequences of their actions.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Character voice, specifically in 3rd person limited. My favorite type of narration because I love getting into a character's head and making you see things through their eyes.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I think every writer struggles with their confidence here and there. I've gone through so many cycles in the past 1.5 years, it's kind of crazy. Going from constant failure in the world of publishing to writing your very first fanfiction just for fun and then having it blow up out of nowhere, all these people showering you in praise, only for the vast majority of them to disappear immediately afterward is a lot to process. We write for ourselves, yes, but as a writer, you can't help but take reader responses to heart. Fortunately, I've never let it influence what I write or how I write; it really only affects my mental state. I know what I like to read and those are the stories I am going to tell, whether they're successful or not.

Aww, this was fun! Tagging @larvasmoon @davenswitcher @pickel182 @karinamay @pouroverpaloma ❤ ❤ ❤

[momentokori]

how do you manage to write scenarios for your characters

like I’ve been wanting to for years but I just don’t know how

like usually I have to ask my friends for help lol I can’t do it alone ;-;

Well it's difficult to explain. I've been reading very well for years, always been reading above my grade, reading in spare time, things like that. In turn I've learned there are different ways to write and show off how you want to tell your story

Telling it from one characters perspective would be different than writing from a set narrative viewpoint, you would know everything one character thinks in one but nothing in another

It's also just how you write, say an actual selling book vs some fanfiction, there are different types of writing in both but both also have distinct styles. Book published writing is more serious, while fanfiction sometimes isn't taken as seriously. This is how you decide the time you're going for (using abbreviations, not using big words, etc etc)

The only exception to 'bad writing' that would make something better is if you write how your character talks, like how @/bulldog-geckorahhhhh does with corduroy, it adds character and makes the story better

Now as for writing the actual scenario I think of how I would want them to interact to put it simply. Sometimes I'll get ideas from a piece of media or something that happened with me in my life or something I wish could happen, or I could just think about my characters in random situations. For example Amara and her situation with getting kicked out, I could write that out because A it's part of her backstory and B it would explain it much better than saying "she was kicked out" (this goes for Rai with her dad, what happens to Fray and Lara, etc.)

Maybe what could work for you is getting an idea from someone else, maybe look at a piece of media, it might inspire you, maybe think about how you could explain a characters backstory better and write out how it happened in real time. I'm not good at explaining how to do things, I've just been a nerd forever and wrote a lot for fun. If this didn't answer your question I'm sorry and I'll answer with something better/more specific

Also, would you rather read Rai's scenario or Amara's? Rai's is definitely more sensitive but both might be a few paragraphs long. Only asking because I don't wanna make you even more sad!!

[snowsays]

ok Keeper fans, I want yall to give me all your headcanons about Sophie and her friends (including Stina) that might fit a human au

the brainrot is real and I'm writing fanfiction for the first time in 12 years and it's a human, college au (tho the setting isn't exact, they're gonna visit Everglen and the college is gonna be Foxfire but other than that I think I'm gonna leave it up to imagination if this is a world where the elven cities exist as human cities, like a random human city called Eternalia, or if they don't exist at all). It's sokeefe, with maybe some dexiana in the background. I have some ideas but I need more info to fully pad their characters (imagine two hands filling a Sophie Foster stuffie)

For Sophie I'm keeping her fashion sense mostly t-shirts, jeans and sneakers. Not super baggy but also not form-fitting. Kinda like, baggy tshirt tucked into straigh leg jeans vibes. Not super colorful either. She still doesn't feel comfortable standing out.

I remember in book 1 she was listening to rock so pls recommend rock bands (I'm more of a vibe girly so I'll listen to whatever has a good sound and dont follow many artists/bands themselves so I only know like the 70s-80s classics and some random songs I think are cool, like Seven Nation Army and How Far We've Come), but I dont want to make her feel like a pick-me/im-not-like-other-girls so I kinda want to make her like pop too. And I already decided she likes the Deadpool movies (bc Amy has an X-Men tshirt in Nightfall, and Sophie makes a Rogue reference), but also romcoms. Also I'm thinking her and Stina would be in college to become vets

Biana is ofc a girly girl, I'm imagining mostly skirts and dresses, some jeans every once in a while, but also very stylish, idk about shoes tho, pretty sure in canon she wears heeled boots everywhere, but irl heels are tiring so...maybe sandals? I also imagine her as more of a pop girly with an edgy side in both music and movies, bc in canon she's not a damsel in distress, so I'm imagining she's an Olivia Rodrigo fan (not saying that Olivia is edgy...idk if she's edgy, I like her music but I wouldnt dare define it, she just popped into my head, as I said, I dont follow artists that much), and she would like both romcoms and action/spies movies (bc vanisher). I'm not sure about her major, I read a fanfic where she was a fashion designer and I like that, I was also thinking maybe art bc I just read a post that talked about how she painted over Tam's mom's painting in Nightfall. I know in the US she could do both but idk

As for the boys...I have no idea. I'm thinking Dex as a mechanical ingenieer (the spanish, french and english are all mixing in my brain and completely jumbled that word, sorry if its written completely wrong) bc ofc, technopath. Keefe as an art student, also he likes Deadpool too, and both beer and fruity drinks, and he still has Mrs Stinkbottom but I have nothing else on him, besides keeping his daddy and mommy issues ofc. Fitz I have no idea.

The rest of the gang I'm not sure if it's going to appear (I'm still trying to think if I should give Fitz a partner, and who would it be in that case), Tam might be mentioned tho, as the quiet fourth roommate of Dex, Keefe and Fitz, who doesnt like to mingle at parties much. But I'll be thankful for any headcanons you can give me of any member of the gang. Or facts that could be useful in a human au

This was longer than I expected, I'm sorry

[serbarris]

Author Ask Tag

Tagged by @volkoss my answers are not going to be as eloquent or insightful but enjoy I guess lol x

All of these are going to be about my current fic At Best You'll Find A Little Remedy. Which is about Emmrich and my Rook, Calliope!!

What is the main lesson of your story?

Um, intentionally - no main lesson. I think unintentionally, it's a story of Calliope learning to trust herself, in multiple aspects of her life, also to be more trusting of others. Also I wanted to explore the romance in Veilguard a bit more, and flesh out some of the interactions with not just Emmrich but the other companions too. And finally, I wanted to inflict/show some real-time trauma for them since everyone seems slightly too well-adjusted for the Horrors they are experiencing lol.

What did you use as inspiration for your world-building?

Basically, I had a passing headcanon that Calliope was in Emmrich's class as a student, and obviously why would she not have a crush on the handsome 35-40 year old teacher? and ran with it. First I wrote I'll Crawl Home to Her as a starting place for small interactions between the main quests, and then I started to build off those small scenes that's now ballooned into this multichapter fic! Also chapter 1 of this fic was basically - what if I wrote veilguard as a romcom novel.

Also I have a list of things I wish were explored a bit more in VG, so the plotline with the huge books in the Cauldron, an earlier first kiss scene, a [redacted] fight, and can't beat just hurt/comfort and more smut :)

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help them grow as a person?

On reflection, it's a bit of free therapy writing Calliope. Even though she's a couple years older than me, she is v much a younger version of myself. I was very reclusive and introverted (still am) but she is truly the extreme of me at my worst I guess? I definitely feel like I want her to grow and show that throughout the fic - at the beginning of VG she is very much running away from her problems, as well as longing to go home. She's definitely fighting her own demons in a continent without therapy so she is Struggling, but the team do help her a lot and it's the first time she's truly been confident at calling people friends (apart from Audric and Myrna but Myrna's her boss and Vorgoth is like a quasi-uncle).

I also took the chance to explore Emmrich's POV a bit through some interludes that take place. I think Calliope has such a puppy love towards Emmrich and truly has watched him afar for many years that I wanted to punctuate Emmrich only just noticing her, and how it's a quicker descent for him (that starts out a bit more lusty). It's very fun to write Emmrich's POV chapters, his voice comes quite easily.

How many chapters is your story going to have?

Currently sitting at about 22 chapters that I'm happy with the plan for(one of those will probably be split in two so maybe 23 is the answer?) - possibly more possibly less I'm going with the flow!

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Fanfiction babeyy, on ao3, some chapters have been cross-posted to tumble (before I decided to post on ao3 as a multichapter)

When did you start writing?

I wrote a couple of fanfics back in the day when I was a teen for HP and Darren Shan - I then didn't write for years until 2019 when I started to write for my Inquisitor x OC, but I've never had the balls to write their longfic it would be intense haha. Then only picked up writing again in November after doing Calliope's playthrough!

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr?

just write!!! it's fun, it's therapy- post it or don't post it, someone out there will enjoy it, even if it's an audience of you!!

Tagging: @aymayzing @maythedreadwolftakeyou

[pascaloverx]

To Begin Again

ELEVEN

Summary: You're a new teacher at a large and influential school. It's a risky step for you, as you've been running from your ex for almost two years. But when Dumbledore asks you to take on a class at the renowned Hogwarts, you can't refuse. However, your life as a newly arrived teacher won't be easy. Especially when the other teachers don't seem eager to make friends. Or rather, two teachers in particular: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Author's Note: Welcome, dear readers. Please leave your comments if you enjoy fanfiction. This fanfic takes place almost in the real world (with the addition of werewolves) and is not a wizarding fanfic. There will be some differences and changes in things from the Harry Potter story or other fanfics in the HP universe, but I promise to do my best writing this fanfic. There will be a love triangle coming in this fanfic. So, dear readers, just as in this fanfic it's meant to imagine Remus Lupin as being Andrew Garfield and Sirius Black as being Ben Barnes, now I present to you the fancast of Severus Snape as being actor Enzo Vogrincic. Imagine him as Snape if you can.

TEN TWELVE

Draco is a bit nervous when he enters your room, as if he wants to say something but doesn't have the courage. You gesture towards a chair near the bed. Your room is very large and spacious, with two chairs near the bed. You sit down next to Draco.

"Do you want to tell me something?" you ask Draco, who still seems to be thinking about what he wants to say; he nods affirmatively.

"I want to be better, but I don't know how. I thought you might be able to help me," Malfoy says, catching you by surprise. You have no idea what to say, contemplating the fact that he thinks you have a good enough relationship for him to ask you for advice.

"I'm honored that you think I can help you. But tell me, what made you think you need to change?" you ask him gently. You want to help your student, but the truth is, you don't feel qualified to tell anyone how to be better.

"I think the consecutive punishments and hitting someone who didn't deserve it. To be honest, Potter got hurt trying to stop his best friend from hitting me. Granger has a bruised face, and I can't stop feeling guilty," Draco says shyly, seeming embarrassed to admit he's feeling guilty.

"Your sense of guilt is essentially correct. But the blame isn't entirely yours; after all, you weren't the only one punished. You're old enough, so I'll be honest. If you don't start apologizing for your rude or disrespectful actions, you'll end up becoming someone impossible to live with. And apologizing is useless if you don't commit to not repeating the mistake. That said, I'm proud of you for coming here. Admitting to yourself that you're wrong is a noble act. But if you don't change your lovely habit of getting into trouble, you'll end up lonely and resentful." You decide to give Draco some tough love, hoping that he'll listen and make progress.

"Do you think I can get better?" Draco processes what you said and speaks softly, not looking at you.

"The answer lies within you. If starting tomorrow, you commit to staying out of trouble and make an effort to apologize to those you believe deserve your apology," you say, hoping he understands your guidance. Maybe he can become a better person in his own way.

"You were unexpectedly helpful, professor. I'll ask my father to get you a new outfit as a way of thanking you. Your wardrobe could use some… repair. No offense," Draco says, smiling a bit too mischievously for someone who wants to be a good boy.

"Insulting my wardrobe is not your best move as someone trying to be better, Mr. Malfoy. Now go to your room and get some sleep, because I need to rest. Tomorrow will be a long day for both of us." You say, opening the door and waiting for him to leave. He does so, looking as confident as ever.

You close the door once Draco leaves. When your body falls under the bed, you feel an avalanche take over you. It's like you're reliving the night you became a werewolf. The feeling of Remus's sharp teeth tearing through his skin. The heat that took over your body as soon as you felt your body change The rhythm your heart beat when you woke up hours later, naked and with no idea what will happen to you. All this can't get out of your head, you toss and turn in bed trying to fall asleep. Nothing seems to work, until you get up to go get some air. There is no one in the corridor, you confess that you thought about knocking on Sirius' door but thought it would be very rude to interrupt him. You then decide to go to the infirmary to see if there is any medicine that will help you fall asleep. But getting closer to the infirmary you notice that there are two people talking. You sneak up on the two people, realizing they are Lupin and Black. Remus is sitting on the hospital bed while Sirius is crouched in front of him, the two of them staring at each other. From a distance, it looks like Lupin is a god and Sirius is worshiping him.

"You look like crap, Moony. And to think you assured me you were invincible," Sirius says to Remus, smiling. He seems to be trying to cheer Lupin up.

"I'm alive, you idiot. For your information, that makes me invincible enough. How's Y/N? I don't remember how things happened, but lately, she's always around," Remus comments, and you feel a bit offended. It's not like you want to always be around them when things go wrong. It's just that you're a damned unlucky person.

"So, you're not going to like this, but she now has something in common with you. Looks like you'll have a full moon companion. She seemed fine the last time I saw her. I mean, as fine as you can be when you transform into a werewolf for the first time," Sirius responds, holding Lupin's hands tightly. You almost lose your breath as your mind forces you to relive your first transformation.

"She must hate me. I can't believe I…" Remus seems disturbed by the idea of having turned you. His hands slip from Sirius's and he starts frantically running his hands over his face and head. You can't see clearly, but it almost looks like he's hurting himself. You even have the impression that he's crying. Then Sirius grabs his hands. Without saying a word, Black kisses Lupin. The kiss starts gently, with little reaction from Remus, who seems to be calming down. But over time, Remus responds better to Sirius's kiss. Sirius caresses Lupin's face while Lupin holds Sirius' hands with lightness.

"No one would dare or be able to hate you, my love. " Those are the words you hear Sirius say to Remus between their kiss. Sirius sits on the edge of the bed to kiss Remus better and you feel wrong for watching them. Then you walk silently but in a hurry to your room.

Unfortunately, with so much on your mind, you couldn't sleep for a second. You don't know how you're able to stand, maybe it's a new werewolf ability of yours. But luckily, your lack of sleep paid off. You were the first to get up to clean the Hogwarts ballroom. As soon as the sun rose, you made the mop your best friend.

"You know we should be doing this together, right?" you hear Sirius say as he enters the ballroom. Your gaze remains fixed on the cleaning, avoiding distractions. The truth is, you're feeling bad. Hours before Sirius had his romantic moment with his love, he was almost hooking up with you. What you thought was casual ended up not being so casual for you.

"Fortunately, this place is huge and there's plenty more to do. The dining area has trash to take out, someone broke a lightbulb near the exit of the hall, and I left the entire bathroom for you. Not to mention, Draco, Harry, and Ron should be able to help with the rest," you say, continuing to clean the floor. In truth, most of the work had been done by you, but it's not your fault. Your mind and body don't seem to want to rest, and every time you close your eyes, it's as if everything happens all over again.

"What did I do this time?" Sirius says, coming towards you. You finally look him in the eye. His hair is slightly damp, and he's wearing a gray sweatshirt that's a bit too big for him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you reply, looking at him with feigned ignorance. He steps closer to you, and you immediately back away. He narrows his eyes as if he's just realized that something is wrong.

"How about being honest now? What did I do that made you like this?" Sirius asks quietly, but with a hint of impatience. You're at a loss because you know that if you tell him the truth, you'll come off as a nosy, rude person.

"Last night, she felt immense pain. It had to do with her transformation. Before that pain and torment, there was a moment of heated passion; I imagine with you, Sirius. And at the end of the night, amidst the torment and exhaustion, she felt a lot of guilt. At the same time, she felt like something didn't belong to her. Or rather, someone. Or someones." Remus says, entering the hall with the upper part of his body covered in bandages. His hair is also wet. You don't need to be a seer to know you're the odd one out here. But the fact that he knows what you felt is crazy.

"How the hell do you know that?" you and Sirius say at the same time, looking at each other, but in the next moment, you avert your gaze.

"I can't explain it exactly. Maybe a bonus for being your creator. Something I will regret for the rest of my existence. I would never dream of hurting you. You need to know that." Remus says, approaching you, extending his hand to offer some comfort with a touch on your arm, but you push him away. Looking into his eyes, you feel a shiver down your spine. You look at Lupin with a certain fear, once again overwhelmed by the sensation of dying in that forest.

"There's a lot going on here. All of this is already confusing enough as it is. So you both listen carefully. I need some time, without being in the middle of your relationship, without being a werewolf, and especially without someone knowing how I feel. I hate being so radical, but I'd like some distance from both of you. I'm going to ask McGonagall to change rooms and I'll try my best to avoid you. I suggest you do the same." You speak amid your mental confusion, lack of sleep, and all the drama surrounding your life at the moment, driving you crazy. As soon as you finish speaking, you feel a tightness in your chest, as if someone had just hurt you emotionally. Damn, this thing of feeling what the other feels is a mutual situation.

"You don't have to do this. We can figure this out together," Sirius says, gently holding your arm. You take his hand and push it away from you.

"You didn't understand me. It's settled. You both go on with your lives as if I'm not here, and I'll go on with mine. If we had done this before, maybe things wouldn't be so messed up." You say, looking at him and then at Lupin. Both of them look upset, and deep down, so are you. But it's for the best. You then leave the ballroom and head to your room.

[alpinelogy]

📔 <- couldn't find the right emoji but I would very much like to hear about what's cooking in ye olde writer's brain!

Put "📓" or some other version of a book emoji into my inbox and I'll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven't written but daydream about. (I am slowly getting through these adfsg <3, just last minute Christmas shopping and writing out each takes a decent amount of time)

Hello and let me introduce you to an entire AU, for which the latest instalment that I opened a doc for started cause of a livery so I think it fits with you being the unofficial home of livery watch.

Anyway, the premise is a rather simple magic AU, very close to how our real world functions except small magic can occur here and there. People can cast mostly harmless spells, curses are abound, but otherwise the magic has very little impact on day to day life. Tho mildly important that some people have more affinity for magic than others, with kids especially being sensitive to magic more and becoming less sensitive as they grow up.

Got two fics set in this universe that keep rotating in my head, both under the cut adsfghj. Ships are Galex and Pierresteban for those who wanna know if they wanna invest in reading my rambling, once again I have never been brief about anything

The first time this came to me was way back in Jeddah weekend where every single Williams driver, junior or actually Alex and Logan, had the most ass weekend imaginable. The premise was that Lia asked an offhand question if Jeddah is the worst track on her calendar when they were recording for Team Torque, Alex said yes, but because she is young and does not have the proper control over her magic, she accidentally placed a curse on the team. And because Alex is the one who responded to that comment, the curse decided to curse the entire team, from the most junior (Lia) to the most senior (Alex).

Enter a series of hijinks where Alex is very aware that something is wrong, but too bad at magic to actually figure it out, Logan and the juniors are in misery, and the entire weekend is shit. Oh and George is just vibing in Mercedes. He is actually the guy who figures out that there is a curse on Williams, he is not part of Williams anymore so the curse missed him, but he is still close enough to the Williams team to immediately figure out somethings up and he is less dense at magic than Alex is and puts two and two together rather quickly.

They never actually manage to undo the curse until after the weekend, though it disappears after the race. Only then Alex actually realizes what happened even though he has been racking his brain about it since George caught onto the curse on Thursday or Friday.

This would've been a rather silly series of unfortunate events at heart, with a little bit of light hearted Alex torture. Nothing too serious just a deep sigh why are we here just to suffer sort of torture. A comedy of errors, this is the only tangible bit that I have written. one day I might return to this, tho idk since this feels like a fic that should be written and posted closer to the race than almost a year later yk? Asdfgh

This would be roughly the tone of the entire fic. Just silly hijinks all around :3c

The second fic set in the same universe, or at least one with the same vague magic going on would be a Pierresteban vaguely Brazil exorcism but actually much more than that!! Sparked by the all pink livery Alpine ran for the last few races.

The premise is that Australia 2023 when they totalled the pink cars something got messed up and cursed. Magic is finnicky like that. Initially, it was not too bad, Baku 2023 happened but then Esteban podiumed in Monaco so maybe its fine and Baku was just bad luck and stupidity.

Then Pierre gets his Spa sprint P3, nice, good work, but during summer break Charles starts ringing the alarm bells that something is fishy. But then even tho Charles has kept his touch on magic since he was a little kid unlike most people, Charles has been a bit of a doomposter about Alpine since the very beginning and the only reason he likes them is cause its better than AlphaTauri.

Anyway after summer break '23 is when it starts crumbling. Pierre gets his Zandvoort P3, but also they're running an interim TP yeah okay maybe something is off. Not like he will reconvene with Esteban though about it, nu uh. The rest of the season is as usual and it goes downhill from there, Pierre has to admit that Charles was right okay fine yeah he had a point.

Over the winter break Alpine reconvenes and they all conclude that the car is cursed. Their camo pink teasing and then the ass livery? An attempt to lift the curse. The two different but very similar liveries? A second backup attempt. Hiring Flavio? Sure as hell an attempt to break the curse oh no nevermind backpedal guys backpedal Flavio was a bad idea. Bringing in Oakes as a TP? You guessed it, also an attempt at fixing it. So are all their special liveries and suits and everything else they did over the '24 season.

The crux of the issue is that no one realizes that the curse is as old as Australia '23, most pinpoint it to somewhere around summer '23 cause thats when it was really starting to become tangible. But no one including Pierre and Esteban actually realize it that what created the curse was the totalling the two pink cars.

Anyway Brazil lifts the curse, at least seemingly temporarily, and somewhere along the lines someone realizes that the only correct way to fully banish the curse for good is to run a pink car for the rest of the season. Totalled the pink cars at the end of race 3 of the '23 season and DNFed, double podiumed the fourth to last race of the '24 season and ran the rest of the season with pink cars. Parallels yk.

Also somewhere along the lines Pierre and Esteban slowly start fixing their friendship. My personal interpretation of the beef if that Pierre perpetuates it, probably started it, thinks about it more, so that it also has to be him to make the first step to fixing it, thats why he is always the POV character in my Pierresteban lmao. So yeah, vague mostly pre-relationship Pierresteban that over the course of the fic slowly fix their relationship cause of the curse they accidentally created and placed on the car together.

I would actually like to write this one and hopefully I will because to me this is also my attempt at yet another Pierresteban exorcism. I just need to figure them out and then the floodgates will open trust.

Oh and, post credits scene is Alpine fucking it up again because they fired Esteban before Abu Dhabi. Oh you stupid ass team why do I support you...

So thats my little magic AU I rotate in my head in my spare time. Curses and shenanigans abound, mostly silly comedy of errors and bad teammate relationships, everyone gets a little curse if you're not careful enough. Except Charles. Charles has somehow managed to do the opposite. Lucky guy.

Also George can in this AU absolutely manifest the most randomass shit. Every time the dash jokes about his manifestation powers such as Austria '24 or Baku '24? Or even the whole teammates with his hero bit? Good old manifestation powers in this AU. Like I said, very silly but so much fun to me

[goodluckclove]

Hey so like I get I might be unqualified to say this, but if you're an artist frustrated by the lack of feedback on your work and considering reacting by publicly berating/threatening/guilt tripping your audience - probably don't? Probably don't do that?

Like I get it, art is vulnerable and it can be tough not to get feedback from the dopamine machine that is social media. At the same time, I have literally never seen someone execute that strategy in a way that was remotely successful.

When a standup working my old open mic said "I have better jokes but I'll save them for a better audience", he found an efficient way to look like an asshole and not get a laugh in the process! Likewise, when an artist online says they're quitting their dreams of animation because we're assholes that won't fund a very loose premise for a comical amount of money - it's not a good look!

Maybe this applies less to fanfiction. I don't know about fanfiction. And I don't necessarily believe that everyone has to solely write for themselves - though I am pretty confident that should be the main driving force in a successful work ethic. I have, however, published and produced my writing enough to know that you do have to get comfortable with a lukewarm, or even silent reception.

I've published short stories to online literary journals I'm not convinced that anyone reads. I wrote a column for a culture website for like three years - solely because the editor kept asking for me to keep writing. I never got any feedback on anything I wrote. I later found some of my old articles republished on other weird websites, which was odd, but since my editor silently deleted all my old articles without saying anything I was just glad they still existed somewhere.

I think my only experience I have with instant mass validation in art was through theater, and those were only in cases when an audience knew ahead of time that I was the playwright.

Is this a cool situation? I don't know. I go back and forth on it. I mean I want to be appreciated as much as anyone, I want to know my art is being valued the way I value it - but I'm also weird about compliments sometimes. That's beside the point. What I mean to say is that when I get in the headspace of wanting more feedback, my impulse is not to complain about my audience on the same platform where I'm trying to establish and cultivate a relationship with them. This account is under my actual pen name. I don't censor myself really, but I am cognizant about what I say in terms of - you know - an online paper trail.

But yeah when I really want to complain I talk to my friends. You can be petty as shit to your friends, online and in real life. No one gets hurt, and if you decide later that you overreacted you don't have to meekly crawl back and retcon a bunch of Hard Takes.

This isn't really a moral lesson because it's not a flaw to want praise, or even just acknowledgement. It's more, like, professional? For people with career or career-adjacent aspirations? There are definitely a lot of professional artists who act pretty wildly, and unless they've already proven they're capable of quality work it doesn't really turn out great for them. So it doesn't hurt to be at least surface-level chill in more visible spaces.

[sakura-cat-nightmare]

I created this blog over a year ago, but I never used it, but i decided that I'Il change that now, or at least that's my plan.

Some infos about me. You can call me Lizzi or Liz. I'm from Germany, which is sometimes really annoying. (My interests and obsession suffer as a result.. Finding K-pop albums here is a struggle, especially if you want something specific. And I'm not even starting with english movies in theaters)

I love to do creative things like DIYs and digital drawings. I also write Fanfictions (since 2020), but right now, only for myself. I plan to publish them soon [maybe]

Now about Fandoms, Ships, and all that stuff

Kpop

i'm in there since 2021, and I'll probably never get out :3. Generally, I'm a multistan, and I listen to very many groups and soloists, but I still have my Ults and favs.

Ult Groups:

BTS - Army since September 2021 (they brought me into kpop) and i will probably be posting about them regularly, haha

bias: Suga and Jhope

shippings: Sope <3, Namjin, Vminkook

Dreamcatcher - Insomnia since beginning 2022

bias: Jiu and Dami

shippings: Jiubin (Jiu × Dami), Suyeon

IU - Uaena since middle of 2023, but I started listening and loving her songs in 2022 (l also saw her live ♡ and she is so amazing)

Other Favs:

Gidle [Bias: Yuqi], Mamamoo [Bias: Solar, Moonbyul], Ateez [San, Seonghwa], Twice [Bias: Jihyo],Stray Kids [Bias: Chanbin], Itzy [Bias: Lia]

~*~

Marvel

I watched my first MCU movie (Ironman 1) in 2020, and since then, it's an on and off relationship with this fanom. Usually, I will come back every other month or when a good movie/series comes out :D

Avengers

favs: Clint, Bucky, Nat, Yelena (same for the the actors)

shippings: Winterhawk <3

Xmen

favs: Logan, Wade, Yukio (she is so cute), Laura, (same for the the actors)

shippings: Poolverine <3

Gods/Others

favs: Loki, Lady Sif, Valkyrie, Thor,(same for the the actors)

shippings: Valkyrie/Sif, (some year ago also Thorki still love them but not as a ship)

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Football

[I'm German leave me alone l i will call it Football because it's Fußball here] liked football my whole life and when I saw a Bravertz edit it was the push I needed and now I am here haha

Fav Players: Julian Brandt, Marco Reus, Robert Lewandowski (maybe some others too, but they are more an on-off thing)

Fav Teams: BVB, FC Barcelona [honestly, I'm more a player person like the teams where the payers that I like play]

Shippings: Julian Brandt x nearly everyone (like for real I ship him with many ppl but i only write fics about Julian x Marco; Julian Robert; Julian x Marco x Robert [don't ask me why.. it just happened])

YouTube

First, i cant belive i FORGOT YOUTUBE???? IM SO DUMB LOL

Second I watch mostly minecraft Youtube, and do so since idk 2018? Yes I'm young. But i also watch other stuff lmao.

Fav Youtubers: Zombey, Maudado, Bastighg, Veni, Stegi, CastCrafter, Mahluna, Gnu, That Chief Guy, Clownpierce, Branzy, Reddoons, Squiddo.... (many more but these are my favs )

Shippings: Zomdado, VenixStegi, Clownzy, Zickzack (bastixveni), also kinda Bastiplatte but not really as a ship but they have a special place in my heart :)

~*~

This blog will probably be really chaotic, but generally, I'll post about anything related to the fandoms just listed... and maybe other stuff I get obsessed with :)