#sometimes i see stuff related to girl meets world and i remember this dude i was friends with

[ppulverse]

it's funny how you always remember the little things people do for you even though you know they've definitely forgotten about them a long time ago

[nonamem9]

warning: pdf file, very long not recommend to read

slept after eating lugaw this morning, got this vivid and very long and detailed dream

stepping to zack jerryringeverything's store, a place that appeared in a previous dream i felt like few or several years ago

he acts and looks a bit odd than his youtube persona as if he's hiding his disability, and he is starting to close down his shop because of lower sales, i asked about the sales pre pandemic vs now, it was 440k vs 110k. he talked about flash games are becoming popular again since theyre a bit easy and faster to download.

met this one kid (2d animated) and his blue floating animated bean friend (3d animation that looks like 2d)

i mentally called the bean guy an "imaginary friend" when he's physically real and can interact the world around him, just a lack of a better term at the moment.

we spotted a tricycle nearby us and inside the passenger area ifound tin can of tuna that shows a flash game called "s[something something here] x madelline" a giant futa fucking a tiny madeline, theres a note saying about the creator might've regretting this making it public before he got caught

this is where the plot starts to kick in

the animated kid and the animated bean dude talks about this mysterious guy being a fuckin weirdo to his friend that is a girl, she is dead

this is now an episodic tv show that the kid and the bean are the main character/narrator telling a story about the protagonist, i am merely the listener "reliving" the horrible memories of the crime that he witness slowly unfold, sometimes i am in there sometimes im just a reacting voice

back at the jerryrigeverything shop where other people just hang out and discuss stuff, back at the flash game talk and someone is playing one h flash game and the grandma knows the details and makes innuendos

we felt very weird so the 3 of us fuckin left and run, the blue bean esaping first in the speed of sound, then the kid, after him its me runnin

almost irrelevant cgi scene sequence on new york's grid city formation that doesn't stylistically fit the "real life/live action and 2d and 3d animation" aesthetic, spinning slowly built buildings with the name of the tower/complex like "twitchy city building" which is pathetically short for a "skyscraper"

back to the normal show

some flashbacks to the friend that became a victim and died

we're at what seems to be a store on a mixed use area, in the store is a photoshoot place of 3 people who are vtubers, one of them is the pdf file criminal, they're all 3d animated in this live action world, in the background tv behind the 3 i see mori calliope and silvervale, theyre likely not related to the three

i was holding a thin square box where it reflects and stuff, trying to hide n shit for some reason i dont remember, this scene is where we felt uncomfortable knowing that the disgusting guy is alive and still here, nobody knowing the past except us 3. (blue bean guy isnt in the photo iirc)

we got out

cut, that's it, a cut

other episode where i dont appear and is just a voice,kid retelling of the first day of school, for visualization's sake the school is just a grass field with tables, chairs, and other school supplies. i think this episode is just about meeting the girl and the friends they have, they're all in the same 2d animated style, nothing horrible happened its just another episode of meeting the characters from the past. kinda like the previous one is meeting the cast of the present times.

another episode that was supposedly in this dream, the 3rd one, didnt really appear or i didint remember

oh yeah the kid (in the present) is 14-15 and the victim girl is 16?? i think. i think as they get older they get more "detailed" and more refined sets of colours??? idk theyre more definitive as time goes on thats the gist, not really sure about the color part

woke up 11:04: am

what a heavy show concept, with an interesting look for some reason??

ive never had a dream this so long, vivid, and most importantly, conceptually consistent in my life what the hell.

[sunflowersand-bees]

Thoughts on Robin’s characterization and how it differs in S3 versus S4?

ooh. oohohohoh. oh my. never really thought about this before. but now i have to. oooh. this might not be quite what youre looking for but ill try my best. it's prob less on her characterization per say and just my opinions on her in general.

robin in season 3. i loved her. she was great. she was new and she was gay canon lgbt lesbianism. she was badass as hell and so smart. but it felt like a lot of her character was reduced to her being gay, at least immediately after the fact, not canon-wise but fanon wise. i'm so glad that she wasn't just someone to further steve's character development, she was her own person, not a rebound or failed rebound for steve. she helped him grow and learn new things about himself. she was great. and she just fit right in with the group.

of course there's going to be a big difference between s3 robin and s4 robin because we're only just meeting her in s3.

s4 robin. she was wonderful. we love robin in every season so that's a given. i was unsure about the crush situation. especially once vickie wasn't actually a part of the s4 plot at all. we know nothing abt this girl. if we learn more, that's cool, but i don't know. it feels like robin x vickie was created for byler parallels. it probably wasn't but idk. i absolutely loved robin's whole feminism rant to the psychologist dude. it's one of my favorite scenes. she's just so freaking smart. and i forget that sometimes and i love it when the writers remind me that 'oh hey, these children are supposed to have lives beside the monsters' and that the real world exists. i can't wait until/if people find out that she's a lesbian. i really hope she has a coming out scene to at least dustin because he keeps shipping romantic stobin and we're not here for that. but i digress. i thought the whole robin seeing vickie and her bf kiss scene was impactful. and her afterwards, "i really don't care, i would if it was any time but rn but because the world's ending we have more important things." because i just think that's so true. and it relates to all kinds of characters thinking and mentioning that their romantic troubles are stupid when there's more important stuff going on. like mike. and nancy i think? i cant really remember who the other one was. i kinda felt like the vickie and robin scene at the end was forced. like i felt like robin had moved on past vickie because it wasn't that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things. but i also thought that steve had moved on from nancy so i guess i'm wrong on a lot of things. i'm glad that robin had a pretty significant role in the plot, as she did before, but i feel like her romance just exists because "oh we gotta give everyone a love interest" and while it's nice to have a lesbian with a girlfriend, vickie doesn't have any personality right now. if she was more developed, i'd like that storyline, but it just feels forced.

thank you so much for the ask. i don't really know how many time's i've derailed, but it's almost 12 am give me a break.

[beauvibaby]

become a family – a.beauvillier

You hadn’t meant to keep Gia a secret from your childhood friend, really honestly, you two had just lost touch, and by the time you found out you were pregnant and her dad left, it felt wrong to reach out simply to tell him that. So you didn’t.

But when you found out you were relocating to New York, Long Island specifically. You knew you had no choice but to reach out, it only made sense, it felt wrong not too. “Mommy.” Gia whined, “play!” She demanded with a tilt of her chubby face, motioning to the Minnie Mouse tea set she had sprawled across your tiny unpacked apartment floor. “Just a second baby.” You assured her with a soft laugh, you read the message you had typed out, you let out a deep breath and pushed send before moving to join your daughter on the floor, forcing the thought of checking your phone to the back of your mind.

“Hey, Tito. I know we haven’t spoken in forever, but I’m moving to Long Island, with my daughter, I thought it’d be nice to meet up sometime. Hope all is well!”

When he got the notification from Instagram, both of you long having lost each other’s phone numbers, his heart stopped briefly, he scrambled to unlock his phone, Mat eyeing him suspiciously. Tito read the message at least five times before what you said had processed with him, he clicked on your profile, he hadn’t really paid much attention to your posts, and they were so far and few between, he scrolled to the first one that was baby related.

A picture of your sonogram in front of your crossed legs, your ready to pop stomach on display, “just me and you against the world baby girl.”

Tito’s heart clenched in his chest, guilt, curiosity and sadness running through him, he scrolled to the next, a simple black and white photo of Gia when she was born, the caption only being her date of birth. The next wasn’t for another six months or so, the two of you in a small apartment back home. “Gia and mommy’s first place!”

He went through them all quickly, up to the most recent, from just before you sent the message, you with Gia on your hip, the two and a half year old hanging on tightly to you with a giggle as you grinned at the camera, your keys hanging off your finger. “New beginnings…”

“Tito? Dude, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Mat finally spoke up, Tito nodded, “you remember, Y/N? Right?” He questioned his friend, Mat nodded, curiously. “She’s here.” Tito whispered, Mat raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean she's here?” “She moved to Long Island.”

***

You truthfully had forgotten to check your phone that night, you ended up putting Gia to bed late and you simply passed out right after. So when you woke, the memories came flooding back, you rushed to grab your phone, seeing a response on your Instagram.

“Long Island? A kid??? We definitely need to meet up, I’m dying to know everything. Missed you.”

Your heart returned to normal at his response, thankful that he was accepting and not shutting you out.

“Missed you too, you became a big shot! I’m taking Gia to a park down the street from my apartment today, I’ll send you the address if you want to come.”

That’s how you ended up here, pushing your daughter in the swing as she shrieked excitedly. Your laughter echoed through the remotely empty park, your attention solely on her as she had a nervous look on her face as the swing went a little higher, you slowed her down and she resumed her happy shouts. “Y/N.” Tito called, your head snapping in his direction, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets as he looked over at you with a grin, his eyes flickering between you and Gia. “Hi.” You grinned right back at him as he walked over to you, he wrapped his arms around you in a hug as he reached you, Gia slowly coming to a stop in the child swing. “Oh god, it’s been too long.” You spoke, voice muffled by his jacket. “Definitely.” He agreed easily, pulling away as Gia began to fuss. You pulled her out of the swing and she clung to you, eyeing him suspiciously, she was always particularly wary about men. “Hello.” He spoke softly to her, giving her a soft wave. She smiled weakly, hiding her face in your neck. “Say hi, Gia.” You whispered to her, she lifted her head, looking over at Tito who was still smiling fondly at her, “hi, Gia.” She spoke, sending you both into a fit of laughter. “We’re working on it.” You assured him through your giggles, your daughter dramatically hiding again. “That’s ok.” Tito assured you, noticing all the ways Gia resembled you.

“Lunch?” She whispered to you, wiggling to get down, “yes, let’s go.” You led her over to the covered portion of the park, where you had left your things, Tito followed behind you, holding in a chuckle at the way Gia happily ran towards the table, swinging her arms for exaggeration. You sat her up on the bench, sitting beside her and Tito sat across from the two of you, watching you silently, “how have you been?” You started speaking, feeling your skin warm up under his gaze. “Good, yeah, I’ve been good.” He answered, “what about you? Been busy I see.” He joked, Gia glanced up at him as she took a bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Yeah, she keeps me on my toes, in the best possible way.” You smiled at your daughter, she happily minded her own business, clueless to half the stuff you two spoke about. You told him about her dad, only using his name so she wouldn’t be confused, already learning that she didn’t have the two parents that some of her other friends have.

Jesse, you never expected him to work out long term, but you never expected to get pregnant either. Long story short, you told him and you gave him the option to not be involved, but he had to be committed to being a co parent or nothing at all. He chose the latter, and never looked back.

“That’s-“ “it’s good, I think, he wouldn’t have been able to stay committed.” You cut Tito off, not needing the apology speech again. He nodded, moving past the subject, a large grin started etching across his face as Gia tugged on your sleeve. You leaned down and smiled as she whispered to the best of her ability, “share?” She asked you, Tito cocked his head to the side as you nodded and leaned away. Gia grabbed one of her fruit gummies and held it out to Tito. “Share.” She mumbled cutely, smiling shyly with her head tilted down a little, just like you do. Tito gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart, “thank you!” He took it from her and popped it in his mouth, earning a genuine laugh from her that made his heart sore. Already so in love with your daughter and wanting nothing but the best for both of you. She tried to offer him more but he sweetly told her no, and that she should eat her lunch, she listened and continued snacking away. “Has she been to a game?” Tito asked you with a wicked grin, “no, actually, I haven’t been to a game since I had her.” You admitted, cringing as he gaped at you, muttering in French under his breath.

“I’m getting you tickets.” He spoke, already pulling his phone out, “what? No, Tito.” You rushed feeling guilty,

“Yes.” He stuck his tongue out at you, typing away on his phone before asking for your phone number to send you the info. You gave it to him, knowing he would just be stubborn anyways. “Thank you. Really. She’ll have a blast, I’m sure.” You spoke as you opened your phone to look at what he sent you, “Anthony!” You scolded, Gia jumping in her spot next to you, “Y/N!” He mimicked, giggling at your daughter who glared at him. “That’s too much, those seats are–“ “Those seats are necessary.” He cut you off, “it’s final. No take backs.” He teased, much like he did when the two of you were younger. You sighed, shaking your head with a small smile, “fine, you better win, for her.” You told him, motioning to Gia who was getting sleepier by the second. “I should take her home.” You added as she yawned, her head resting against her arms on the table. He smiled at her eyes fluttering shut, “yeah, but I’ll see you at the game, right?” He raised an eyebrow as he stood up, you nodded, moving to give him a hug goodbye.

You watched with a bursting heart as he pushed some of Gia’s hair back, leaving a feathery light kiss to her full cheek, “bye, sweetheart.” He whispered, she whined, nestling further into herself. You wiped at your eyes once he was no longer facing you, the sight before you simply pulling on your heart strings.

***

You adjusted the jerseys on yours and Gia’s bodies, the both of you wearing jeans with them. She smiled at the excitement on your face, “do you remember mommy’s friend we met yesterday, Tito?” You questioned her as you walked hand in hand to the elevator, she looked up at you curiously, “we’re going to see him do his job, you get to watch them play hockey.” You explained to her, she simply smiled, all oblivious to what you meant, but she got excited because you were excited. “Teo.” She spoke, an attempt at his name, not very good but adorable nonetheless. You whipped your phone out, squatting down in the elevator, you started recording her, “who are we going to see?” You asked her, she shook her head happily, her pigtails bouncing around, “teo!” She said proudly, clapping for herself. “Tito, good job.” You praised her before ending the clip, you sent it to him with a thumbs up before continuing to acknowledge Gia’s babbling.

He responded quicker than you thought he would, “I guess I’ve grown on her.” He sent a heart afterwards, presumably putting his phone away for the night to prepare for the game.

Gia whined as she clung to you, terrified of all the people surrounding the both of you, “it’s alright honey.” You shushed her as you slowly inched forward in the line, she nodded against you, arms wrapped around your neck and legs trying to wrap around your waist. You thanked the person as they scanned your tickets, letting you two begin the journey to your overpriced glass side seats. You were relieved to see they had already begun warm ups so she would be distracted by them, once she adjusted to her surroundings you knew she’d be fine. “Look baby, see how fast they go.” You held her up, pointing out to the ice, she instantly became mesmerized by them whizzing by. You sighed in relief as you tried to spot the oh so familiar number 18. The two of you wearing jerseys with his name, something you knew he would get a charge out of, as long as you could remember, you would wear his number to his games. And now would be no different.

You spotted him at the same time he spotted you, a bright smile coming over his face as he flicked a puck up and caught it in his hand, skating over to you. He waved at you and Gia and she grinned, recognizing him and suddenly no longer being shy as she tapped on the glass with an amused smile. “Hi!” She shrieked, earning a laugh from him. He motioned the puck in his hand and you nodded, easily catching it as he tossed it over, handing it to Gia who stared at it in amazement, “good luck.” You mouthed, fist bumping the glass like you did as a teenager, he grinned and did the same before skating off, some of his friends nudging him and asking questions as you settled into your seat for the night.

Gia enjoyed the game and the loud sounds more than you thought she would, she adjusted quickly to the slamming of the boards, if anything, you think that may have been her favorite part.

Once the game was over, you were directed by Tito to tell one of the arena employees your name and they’d bring you down to see him. Much to your surprise, it worked, Gia was antsy to be let down to run around, and thankfully the person leading you through the huge building was a sweet young girl, probably your age, who was just absolutely loving Gia. “Just go to the right, and stop at the double doors.” She explained to you as the elevator came to a stop, “thank you.” You smiled, ushering Gia onto the concrete floor, her laughter echoing as she had some room to run around and burn up some of her energy. You were speed walking behind her just to keep up with her little legs, “baby, hang on!” You called, sighing as you rushed to grab her, just in time too as the doors opened and a couple of guys walked out, thankfully Tito was one of them. “Hey.” You breathed out, Gia looked over, “teo!” She ran over to him, putting her arms up, he looked at you for approval, “oh, of course.” You gave him a look, as if you wouldn’t trust him with your daughter. He easily lifted her up, smile widening when she wrapped her little arms around him. A stark difference to her greeting yesterday. “You must be, Y/N.” One of them spoke to you as Gia began babbling to Tito who nodded along enthusiastically. “I am.” You responded, shaking his hand, “Mat.” He grinned, you nodded knowingly, “I know, I follow the sport.” You teased him, earning a snicker from Tito as he walked over to you. “Hey.” He mumbled, giving you a one armed hug as Gia refused to leave his hold. You lightly tickled your daughter as she hid in his neck from all the other guys. “You played good.” You assured him, he smiled softly in return before introducing you to some of his teammates, laughing when you became all shy, staying close to him and your daughter. You answered all the questions they threw at you, not noticing Gia was drifting off on Tito’s shoulder until she was already out like a light.

***

It’s been about 6 weeks since that game, the season kicking into full gear, Tito traveling very often but still coming over to see you guys when he wasn’t on the road, and today, he was coming over for the first time in two weeks, and Gia had no idea. The relationship between them was more than you could ever ask for, even yours and Tito’s relationship had changed, it wasn’t even spoken, it just happened, one night as he was leaving after you put Gia down. You leaned up to kiss his cheek but he turned, not knowing what you were doing. You both jumped back, muttering apologies, but you kept your hands on his chest, slowly you inched back together, your lips coming together softly.

Then it became more often, sneaking in kisses here or there, I miss you texts, phone calls. And now, now you were bouncing with excitement just to see him.

Tito knocked on the door with a wide smile, excited to see his two favorite girls, that thought running through his head the whole trip back, in his mind, he wanted to call you his, but he knew he hadn't even spoken to you about what this was.

You rushed over to open the door, Gia only just waking from her nap, “hi.” You whispered immediately being engulfed in his arms, yours going to wrap around his neck. “I missed you.” He admitted into your hair, kissing the side of your head, “I missed you too.” You assured him, leaning away to meet his eyes, something went unspoken between you two as he pulled you in for a kiss. This one was different though, more powerful than the rest had been. You sighed against him, melting into his hold as you kissed him back slowly, not wanting to rush the moment. “Tito.” You went to speak after you pulled back to breathe, “yeah, I know.” He murmured, pecking your lips again before finally stepping all the way inside. “Is she sleeping?” He frowned, wanting to see her, “she’s starting to wake up, I heard her fussing.” You explained, neither of you making any effort to untangle yourselves. “Would you want to go out with me sometime? Like a date.” Tito asked, you nodded instantly, “can’t we just count all the times you’ve stayed over here late as dates?” You teased, instantly making him relax. “Well, then I think it’s fine if I do this, as much as I want.” He joked, kissing you again, squeezing your hips.

“I think so too.” You agreed, pulling away once you heard Gia climbing out of her bed. “Gia, I have a surprise!” You called, hearing her giggle and run down the hall, she saw you and then she saw Tito standing beside you. What neither of you expected was the word about to come out of her mouth, “daddy!” You nearly passed out right there, literally swaying and having to grip Tito for stability. She hugged his legs, looking up at him with a grin. “Tito.” He corrected her gently, lifting her up once you regained your composure. “Hi, sweet girl.” He tickled her sides as he hugged her tightly, her laughter filling the room, you smiled at the sight, hoping that one day this would become a reality.

****

“Rough day?” You questioned Gia as she dramatically huffed and sat at the kitchen counter beside her sister. “Yes.” Gia spoke with a sigh, you held back your laughter, knowing that 1st grade could just be oh so difficult, Tito walked in a moment after with her backpack and lunch box, smiling at you as you held the two month old to your chest. He walked over to the girls, laughing at the bored expression on Gia’s face as she watched her two year old sister munch away on her fruit, “hi princess.” Tito greeted Sadie with a kiss to the head, before making his way over to you, kissing your lips and whispering a hello before taking the baby from you. He smiled as Cade gripped his finger tightly, looking up at his dad with the bright blue eyes that they shared. “Daddy, can we go for ice cream tonight?” Gia pouted at him, using the look she got from you that made him cave immediately. He glanced at you, who nodded, “only because it’s friday.” He pointed an accusing finger at her, watching as her annoyed expression broke into a smile. “Thank you!” She sang happily bounding to her room upstairs. You laughed at the sigh he let out, “Aw, did you have a rough day too, honey?” You teased, resting your head on his chest as he wrapped his free arm around you, Sadie coughing for attention and succeeding as you both looked over to make sure she wasn’t choking. She only smiled, Tito’s smile as she continued to eat her blueberries slowly, you glared lightly at her as she giggled. “I did have a rough day, thanks for asking.” He mused.

“My wife didn’t text me once all day.” He pouted at you, “I’m so sorry, I assumed you would be busy working and all.” You laughed at him, cupping his stubbled jaw, “how ever did you survive?” You asked with fake concern. “I’m not really sure. But I did, and I lived long enough to pick her up from school, I’ve earned my ice cream.” He quipped.

taglist: @boqvistsbabe @tortito @2manytabsopen @heybarzy @barzysreputation @yzas-stuff @iwantahockeyhimbo

[seaoflittlefires]

Still deserve a bit of fun

Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry reconnects with Mary Macdonald who tells him about his parents and their group of friends in the '70s. When he hears about their camping trip to Cornwall, he decides to take his friends there, but while Harry is set on having fun and forgetting all about the war, not everyone finds it easy.

This is lots of dialogue, mostly about the golden and silver trio trying to process what happened to them and dealing with the angst of having lost their teenage years to war. It's heavily inspired by MsKingBean89's All the Young dudes; the catalyst for the plot is an exchange between Harry and Mary Macdonald as she is portrayed in the fic.

While this story can be understood without having read ATYD, there are a bunch of easter eggs and parallels that will be better appreciated with it in mind.

Word count: 5.4k

Read on AO3

Prologue

It was the strangest letter Harry had ever received. And of course, he’d had his fair share of mysterious letters. But this one was particularly mind-boggling because the very idea of Mary seemed like an impossibility. A friend of his parents’, a member of their class at Hogwarts, still alive, completely untouched by the war or by the magical world itself.

At first Harry expected to be a bit resentful: Why had this woman not joined them in the fight against Voldemort when she knew first-hand what he was capable of? And also, why hadn’t she ever reached out if she had truly been so close to James and Lily, if she knew so much? Harry felt he could have used a letter like this much sooner. But there was something about Mary’s story that made him instinctively understand where she was coming from: Her friends had died one by one at the hands of Voldemort. She’d been in danger during the wars for being a muggleborn. And even in times of peace, she had felt like a bit of an outsider in a wizarding community that didn’t care to explain much to people whose families weren’t magic, that simple thrust these kids into a new, dangerous world and hoped for the best. And of course, it was a community that, despite its hatred of Voldemort, had nonchalantly allowed the ideology of blood purity to remain a part of daily life even within Hogwarts and often continued to spread it. Harry could most certainly relate to her resentment. And so he’d decided to forgive Mary for everything she hadn’t been able to do, and to enjoy what seemed like an invaluable second chance, especially after the deaths of Sirius and Remus: Here was someone who’d been close to his parents and mentors when they had all been kids. Someone who’d known them long before Harry was even a possibility. He had a million questions, and Mary answered them all.

She had initially reached out a few weeks after the battle of Hogwarts to offer her condolences for Remus, her only remaining friend from the wizarding world. She’d been devastated to hear about his death, but also shocked to know about the role that Harry had played in the war. She remembered him from when he was a baby and she wanted to pass along a few photos she still had from those days. Harry had been elated to know her and to get this account of the first few months of his life.

But as they continued writing to each other, always by muggle post, other things that Mary knew proved to be even more invaluable. She wrote of his parents long before they were his parents, long before they were even together. She wrote about meeting Lily in first year, helping each other navigate the newness of their abilities and their surroundings. She wrote of hours spent talking to her and Marlene, laughing together, helping each other through homework and bullies and unrequited love. She wrote about Remus, who’d first gotten close to them, about his generosity and his talent for teaching, even when he was still a student himself. She wrote about the rivalry with the boys and how it had later morphed into friendship. About the Great Snogging Race, about quidditch, about James and his romantic gestures, about Sirius and his music. She wrote about legendary parties and the pranks, so many pranks. The time they’d made it impossible for purebloods to use slurs by swapping the words for nonsense. The time they’d set off fireworks in the grounds for Remus’s birthday. The time they’d formed an inter-house cooperative to teleport the entire Slytherin common room into the lake. Harry devoured each of her letters with joy.

There was one anecdote that stood out to him, probably because Mary spoke of it with such love and nostalgia: The summer before their seventh year, right before the first war had gotten really ugly, they had all taken a trip to Cornwall. They’d done camping the old-fashioned muggle way and gone to the beach and been silly teenagers. It had been during that trip that Harry’s parents had finally gotten together. He could picture them all laughing by the shore or sitting around a fire. He could see Sirius’s cheeky grin and Remus’s eyes sparkling mischievously and his parents, the way they were in the pictures Mary sent. Happy. Carefree. Young.

When he proposed the idea to Ginny, she was thrilled. Hermione took come convincing but Ron helped her come around and Neville proved easy once he knew that Luna was going. They set off at the end of July, apparating into the campsite with muggle tents and equipment. The weather was perfect and they quickly found a spot within the site. As they unpacked, Harry looked around him and sighed. This was exactly like he had pictured it. He was ready to begin again.

Chapter 1

They’d brought two tents, one for the boys and one for the girls, which they began to assemble at their spot in the camping site. At first they tried the muggle way but Neville almost poked someone’s eye out with a pole and Luna got trapped inside one of the tents while trying to raise it. After about fifteen minutes of this, Ron and Hermione took over and, after quickly verifying that nobody was looking, everyone also began to use spells to help get it all done.

Luna grabbed her wand, but instead of helping Ginny assemble the poles, she began to murmur an enchantment that none of them found familiar.

“What are you doing?” Asked Ron, curious but well-meaning. After everything, he’d learned to trust Luna’s strange but wise ways.

“Chizpurfle defense charm. They’re attracted to magical objects and they chew at them. Especially when there isn’t lots of magical energy around, they can be vicious. We must be a beacon for them right now…”

“Oh yes, I’ve read about those,” Hermione replied as soon as she was finished lifting the girls’ tent with a flick of her wand.

“Sorry I can’t be of any help,” said Neville. “You both are so good at this and I’m so clumsy…”

“Don’t worry mate, this is actually very difficult,” replied Ron as he hammered in the pegs.

“It really is. Seriously, it isn’t your fault, we just got a doctorate in tent-building last year.”

“I wish so badly I could have gone with you guys. I could have helped. Besides, I bet you could have used the company,” said Ginny, looking up towards Hermione from the poles she was assembling.

“You guys barely talk about that time,” added Neville. “I mean, you explained what you discovered, and all the strategic stuff, but I bet it must have been quite horrible, being on your own with so much danger…”

“Well, it did get a bit lonely,” Hermione said after a pause. It was true, they’d barely talked about that time, and it had been taxing for all three of them. But so much had happened since, so much that seemed bigger and scarier and just worse, that it had barely felt worth it. “We missed our families a lot, especially…” Ron walked toward Hermione and put his hand gently on her shoulder. Hermione had spent a long time explaining everything to her parents after their memory spells had been reversed, but they still weren’t the same and she felt guilty, despite knowing it had been the right choice. “It felt awful, being away from you all. We didn’t know whether we’d ever see you again, and it felt… it was just hard to put on a brave face and be logical all the bloody time when sometimes you just wanted to curl into someone’s arms and be held.”

“Well at least that’s over now,” chimed in Harry, quickly, almost too quickly. “No one has to be brave anymore.” He seemed to be lost in thought for a second. “Except for you, Weasley,” he exclaimed then, grabbing a broom from the already finished boys’ tent. “Let’s find a spot with no muggles at the beach so I can kick your arse in a race!”

“Alright, we’ll see about that,” said Ron, grabbing his own broom and getting ready to follow. He and Hermione shared a look and he shrugged. That hadn’t seemed much like Harry, but the black-haired boy was already halfway to the beach and, after all, Ron was never one to turn down a challenge. “Are you guys coming?” Ginny and Neville nodded.

“I’ll stay behind for a bit to finish up these charms,” said Luna, who was busy walking in circles around the  girls’ tent while waving her wand.

“Are you… are you sure that’s necessary?” Asked Ginny.

“You will be thankful when Billywigs aren’t stinging you in your sleep. They can cause grown humans to levitate, did you know?”

“Alright, I suppose it can’t hurt,” said Hermione, who had just emerged from her tent carrying a book.

“Work?” Ron rolled her eyes at her.

“Beach read. ”

“Let’s go then.”

***

They were lying in the sand under the warm sun. All six of them were in their bathing suits but only Luna had been courageous enough to brave the freezing water yet. She was performing a drying spell on her dripping hair when Ron spoke:

“I could lie here all day. Weather’s perfect.”

“Yeah, it’s so peaceful. Quiet too, I thought we’d have to be more careful because of the muggles.” Ginny spoke as she turned to lie on her stomach.

“We picked a great spot,” Harry agreed. “Mary said there’s a castle ruin a few miles from here, we could go at some point.”

He got a mostly enthusiastic response but a groan from Ron: “You can go and come back to pick me up in a week, I’ll still be lying here.”

“No you won’t. You agreed to go check on mum in like…” Ginny sat up and looked at her watch. “Twenty minutes.”

“Is anything the matter?” Asked Luna.

“Nah, we just haven’t left home much since… Since Fred,” explained Ron. “We promised we’d keep in touch. And someone got me to agree to do it the first time.”

“Because someone insisted I carry all the camping equipment.” Ginny’s rebuttal was quick and it got a smile from everyone but Harry whose eyes were fixed on the horizon. He didn’t know how but the war kept slipping into every conversation. It bothered him. No matter how far he went, he never seemed to be able to escape the smothering presence of all he’d lost.

“We really did need a holiday, eh?” He addressed Ron in an effort to steer the conversation away, back towards his best friend’s love of relaxation.

“Yeah we did. I still have no clue what I’m supposed to do now, like… Work? I never knew what I wanted to be when I grew up and now I guess… I am grown up. And I still don’t know what I am.”

“Well, you don’t have to be just one thing. No one ever is! You can just try out many fields of work and see which one suits you,” replied Hermione. “I plan to get a few internships in the fall in order to do that. Mostly at different ministry departments, maybe International Magical Cooperation, or the Committee on Experimental Charms…”

“Yeah well, that’s all very well and good when you’ve got loads of paths to pick from,” said Ron, “but I don’t even know where to start.”

This was good, Harry thought. Thinking of the future. Thinking of work. These were problems that everyone dealt with at this age, right? Nothing to do with the war or death. Besides, the idea that there could be a future in itself was more than they’d had for so long. Harry had no clue what he wanted to do with his, but he knew better than to view that choice as a problem.

“I don’t really know if I’m ready to work yet…” Neville said suddenly. He sat up over his towel.

“Well, that’s perfectly understandable too, you could continue your studies if you want. It might actually do us all good, after all, we pretty much skipped our N.E.W.T.S.” Hermione’s face was almost wistful as she mentioned exams.

“Well, sure, but… I don’t mean that. I mean… Every so often I get filled with so much rage. Ever since May it all just… feels so pointless. Even here, right now, with you guys, you’re all talking about feeling so relaxed and I… I haven’t been able to truly be anywhere fully in a long time. Part of me is always reliving it. And I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to just… jump back in.” Everyone nodded. They knew it was true, and they felt it as well.

“I might travel for a while after my seventh year,” Luna mused. “It’s always been my dream to see a Runespoor in person…”

“Gory,” replied Ron with a smirk. “But I applaud your bravery. And as for you Neville, take all the time you need, mate. We’re all knackered. It’s a wonder we can go about our days at all…”

“Hey, did you know Sirius and Remus were a couple?” Harry exclaimed suddenly. That got everyone’s attention. For a few seconds, nobody spoke.

“Seriously?! Oh my, that makes so much sense!” Hermione was ecstatic, as she usually was when she learned something that helped her crack a puzzle.

“Okay, I am now second-guessing my entire existence,” said Ron. His face was a study in confusion.

“Professor Lupin? Why did I need to know that?” Neville looked utterly flustered.

“They do make one hell of a great-looking couple,” said Ginny with a smirk, and to her delight, Luna nodded at her. But her expression suddenly changed and a few seconds later she added: “did… made… Sorry.”

“How did you even find out about this?” Hermione turned her attention back to Harry. She gasped. “Did Mary tell you?”

“Well… Not exactly. She didn’t say it outright; I suppose she didn’t think it was her story to tell but… The way she talks about them in her letters… She refers to them as a unit. Same way she talks about my parents. I guess it just… made me re-examine some stuff.”

“Of course it did,” said Neville. “When you have limited memories of someone, every new fact you learn about them makes you understand everything in a whole new light. I know how that…”

“Well, yeah, but this isn’t really about that.” Harry’s expression had suddenly turned serious. He didn’t know what had compelled him to share this suspicion with his friends so suddenly, or to state it as if it was fact. He’d been thinking about it a lot since reading Mary’s letters but he’d thought of asking her before telling other people. It felt a bit like a betrayal. What was wrong with him? He was distracted by Ron who was looking at Luna quizzically.

“Why aren’t you more surprised?” He asked her. “I don’t mean to be a prude or anything but… This is huge”

“Oh, I already kind of figured they were together,” said Luna in that singsong, nonchalant way of hers. Five pair of eyes were suddenly upon her.

“How did you know? They never said anything, they never, like, kissed in public! Plus, you barely even saw them together before Sirius…” Harry was worried. Had this been an obvious thing the entire time? Had he never seen these two people properly despite considering them family?

“Love is spoken in many ways. Different people express it differently. Just because someone isn’t speaking your love language doesn’t mean they aren’t saying it.”

“That’s very wise, Luna,” said Hermione smiling.

“What does it even mean?” Asked Ron.

“I saw the way they looked at each other. My parents used to do that. They weren’t ones for words but love was in their every touch and stare. And when they moved they seemed like pieces of a single body. That’s how Sirius and Remus were that night at the ministry, and I didn’t know them before then so I just assumed it was a thing the rest of you knew. When Sirius passed through the veil, I saw Remus’s face change. He went with him.”

“I’m going in the sea, who’s coming?” Harry was suddenly up, his body coursing with energy. He practically ran into the water without waiting for an answer.

Chapter 2

Harry had lit the fire using magic, but he was still building up the flame the muggle way. They’d split up in order to get dinner and take turns showering at the camp facilities. They were nowhere near as nice as the bathrooms at Hogwarts but a few charms had helped make them warmer. Now, they sat roasting marshmallows in the fire as they listened to music on Hermione’s Discman. She’d charmed her CDs so they could each hold dozens of albums and so that they could play songs in multiple random orders She could also use her wand to control the volume from afar. The only problem was, Hermione hated current music. Even after all these years, she was still a bit of a snob when it came to art, preferring obscure bands from ten or twenty years before. As a result, they’d been listening to a lot of Bowie since they’d arrived.

“…And then, my grandma told me I wasn’t allowed any pets until I was 18, except for something truly harmless. And even Trevor I ended up losing at the lake eventually.” Neville was telling the story of how he’d ended up with a toad, a rather unusual pet even for a Hogwarts student.

“Yeah, well, at least your harmless pet did not turn out to be an escaped murderer!” Said Ron, who had still never quite gotten over the shock of Scabbers’s true identity. As usual, he got a laugh from everyone. However, Harry couldn’t help but notice that even these conversations were always restrained. He could not remember the last time he’d laughed to tears, laughed truly, even at one of Ron’s comments. Still, his friend had the ability to cheer people up, even in the darkest of times.

“Hey, you could ask George if he needs help at the shop, you know?” He said to him. “I bet you could be really good at that. Coming up with artifacts, selling to customers especially…”

“Yeah, mate, maybe I’ll try that…” Ron was deep in thought for a few seconds. “George hasn’t really been the same since he lost Fred. Perhaps he could use that.” And just like that, Harry thought, he’d burst the bubble. Again.

“I’m having the best time,” said Hermione, who’d been listening attentively to one of Luna’s stories. “I think we all really needed this, thanks for forcing me to come.”

“Anytime,” Ginny winked at her.

“Always a pleasure to bicker with you about anything,” said Ron.

“Seriously though, I really love you lot. I don’t know that I tell you that enough.” Hermione put one arm around Harry and another around Ginny, both sitting beside her.

“Yeah, me too,” added the redhead. “I’m so grateful we’re all still together. You’ve made everything seem… I don’t know, worth it.”

Harry was about to say something about the marshmallows definitely being worth it when he saw that Luna’s eyes were watery.

“What’s wrong?” Asked Neville.

“I just… I love you guys so much,” Luna said as tears fell down her cheek. “When I was held at Malfoy Manor last year and my father… He was so selfish. I thought that you would never forgive me. And I’d never had any real friends before I met you all and I was already resigned to losing you… I was grateful that at least I’d known what it felt like, you know? To be a part of something truly special…” Hermione leaned over Ginny and squeezed her hand. “And yet you guys did forgive me,” Luna continued, “and you kept me around after the battle was over; you made me feel like I hadn’t just been useful, like I was…” She trailed off as Ginny enveloped her in a hug.

“Luna, you’re always going to have us at your side,” Neville reassured her. “Everything that happened… It forged a bond you cannot break. It’ll always keep us together.”

“I just wish it didn’t seem like the only thing keeping us together…” Harry hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the moment he did, he felt strangely lighter. However, this relief didn’t last long.

“What did you just say?” Ginny asked, suddenly looking away from Luna and towards her boyfriend with a stern expression.

“I said,” Harry raised his voice a bit, emboldened, “that it would be really bloody great if you all could stop talking about the war for a minute. The whole point of this trip was to have fun and be normal, just like people were before the war! Can’t we have one single conversation that isn’t about how awful it all is?!”

“No, we can’t, you nitwit!” Ginny yelled. “You’ve been acting like a prat and ignoring people’s feelings all day, but in case you haven’t noticed, things have been awful! I lost a brother! And I miss him so much, I…” Ginny’s voice broke and she stopped talking.

“I know you do,” said Harry regretfully. “I just thought if we could all leave we’d…”

“Running won’t fix things. It never does. Sometimes you just have to keep living right next to the bad.” And with that, Ginny stood up. “Come on, Luna, let’s get you a glass of water,” she said to her friend, who was still crying softly.

“I’ll… uuuh… I’ll go with you!” Neville practically leapt out of his seat and the three of them began to walk quickly towards the camp facilities.

Harry sighed. Just like that, it was him, Ron and Hermione left, just like it had been a year ago. Actually, it had been less than a full year, but it still felt like a lifetime. More than Harry had ever wanted to spend in the presence of so much sorrow.

“So I screwed that up,” he said as Ron moved over to sit next to him and Hermione.

“You kind of did, not going to lie…” Said Ron. “But I get where you’re coming from. Honestly, I needed a break from my house too. It’s why I wanted to come so bad.”

Harry nodded. He’d never realized, but it must have been taking a toll on Ron to keep being so cheerful and sarcastic while he himself was dealing with so much. Harry supposed it was his way of deflecting things. At least Ron’s way made people feel better, he thought, as opposed to his.

“Look,” said Hermione, putting an arm around him. “Healing takes time. You can’t expect people to act normally after what happened and you shouldn’t expect that of yourself either. It’s okay if it’s all we can talk about for a bit. Merlin knows it’s enough to fill plenty of history books, it needs processing.”

“I’ve just lost so much time to… processing,” Harry said. “I’m turning eighteen soon, you guys already have. And yet I can count on one hand the adventures we’ve had together that didn’t somehow involve solving some mystery or fighting some evil threat. And…” He sighed. He couldn’t stop thinking about Mary’s letters, all the anecdotes she’d shared about his parents and their friends. “I guess I just want a bit of normal life, you know? And even now that everything’s supposed to be over, even though this whole thing was meant to give us all a chance to live happily… I’m not sure we’ll ever get there.”

“I know we will, mate,” said Ron. “I mean, my parents did, after the first war. Mum lost both her brothers and she still had enough faith to raise all of us. She knew things could be better. They all did.”

“Mary didn’t,” replied Harry. He hadn’t known he was thinking about it until he said it. But it was true. In the end, perhaps, she had made the right choice. Going away. Forgetting that it all even existed. Getting married and having a kid and living a normal, happy, uneventful life.

“But we proved her wrong, didn’t we?” Hermione interjected. “I mean, she wrote to you because she was impressed. Because she was proud and she believed in what you did. And I promise you it will have been worth it. You’ll see.”

Harry nodded. He knew that everything they’d done had been important. He’d seen how much of a difference it had made to thousands of people. He just hadn’t ever been so conscious of what it had cost him before: “Do you think we’ll ever get to just be regular teenagers?” He asked Hermione.

She was silent for a few moments, clearly wanting to give Harry an answer that she truly believed in, instead of some bland reassurance. After a while, she spoke: “Honestly? I have no idea. We still are a little bit broken…”

“Yeah, some of us especially,” chimed in Ron, glancing sideways at Hermione. She elbowed him and he shrugged, as if to say “I’ve earned that”. Hermione laughed. “You see?” She looked at Harry. “There you go. We’ve still got a long way to go until we reach normal. But in the meantime, we still deserve a bit of fun”.

Harry didn’t know how, but Hermione’s words were always just right, like they were the echo of something he’d always known. He hugged both of his friends.

“I’ll apologize to the others in a bit. I think I’d better take a walk and gather my thoughts first,” he told them, as he headed towards the beach.

Chapter 3

The sound of the waves was deafening as Ginny walked out onto the beach. She spotted Harry but didn’t quicken her pace. Instead, she watched him think for a few moments longer. She knew why he’d picked this place to cool off. The noise. It would be a long time before Harry could stand the quiet again.

“Sorry I snapped,” she said when she finally reached him, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Back at you,” he replied. They stood like this for a few moments. Ginny waited. She felt the words building up inside him. Of course, she was right. Eventually Harry spoke: “I just didn’t know I felt like that. Not until Mary.”

“You speak a lot about her letters,” Ginny nodded. “You clearly needed them.”

“I did. You see, everybody talks so much about how my parents died. I know all about how brave they were fighting against Voldemort, and how much they had to sacrifice during the last few months of their lives… I know everything about how they died. And I’m grateful for it; it’s obviously better than knowing nothing… But until recently I barely knew anything about how they lived. What kind of students they’d been at Hogwarts, what kind of friends. What subjects they’d liked or been good at, what foods they loved the most at the Great Hall. What they fought about, how they became friends with all these people, what all of the Marauders’ pranks were like… Mary made me realize that. And once I did, it was impossible not to notice the same thing happening to us. We’ve lost so much time already. So much of our lives has been about this bloody war, and I don’t want it to be the only story we can tell about our teenage years. Already it feels like I’ll never be able to outlive it publicly and so with my friends I just want… I don’t know. I guess if this is what we are remembered by, if this is how we remember ourselves and our loved ones, just for what we lost, it’s a kind of victory for him.”

Ginny sighed. “I know. And I agree with you. We deserve time to be teenagers. We deserve to talk about silly things and have silly competitions and listen to happy music that isn’t Hermione’s melancholy crap,” she took Harry’s hand between hers, “and we deserve time to figure out what this is without any pressure. But that’s the thing: We can do that. Your parents didn’t have that luxury. They had to cram as much life as they could into very little time and figure out how to be kids and teenagers and grownups all at once, am I right?”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “I keep wondering how on earth they were ready to be married at our age.”

“See, that’s the thing, they probably weren’t. But they had to. We don’t. We’ve earned our right to take things slowly, we have all the time in the world. But we cannot skip the grieving part. As much as we all want to forget that all of this ever happened because it hurts like hell to know it did, trust, me, the only way out is through. Otherwise you end up living with a lot of ghosts…”

“You’re right.” Harry put his arms around her. He knew exactly what Ginny meant. And he knew he didn’t want that. Because despite everything, possibly even because of it, he felt like the future held good things in store for them. “I’m really sorry, Ginny,” he whispered. “For everything you’ve lost.”

“Me too. And I don’t think you’re told that nearly enough.”

***

After a while they began to walk hand in hand back towards the camping site.

As they got closer, they realized the fire was still lit, and there was a lone figure sitting beside it. They thought it might be Luna, still up performing more charms of protection against various magical creatures, but when they arrived they saw it was actually Neville. He was all but falling asleep while sitting down, shaking himself awake every few seconds and then immediately beginning to close his eyes again. Hermione’s Discman was still on, playing another Bowie song, but Hermione herself was nowhere to be seen. Very unlike her, Harry thought, to forget something out in the open. He turned towards his half-awake friend.

“Hiya Neville, what’s up?” He nudged him awake. “Really sorry about before, by the way, I was a proper arse. If you ever need to talk…”

“Okay, sure, I’m just really tired right now…” Neville said, his eyes already beginning to close again, his head falling.

“Why won’t you go to bed then?” asked Harry, pointing to the tent.

“Well, I want to, and Luna’s already gone in her tent but I… The boy’s tent is… I can’t go because you see…” Neville smirked and pointed awkwardly in its general direction. The tent was still and quiet. Too quiet. It only took Harry a few seconds to realize that numerous silencing charms had been placed upon it.

“Wait, is Hermione in there with Ron?!” Asked Ginny, eyeing Neville conspiratorially.

“Uuuuh yeah they are… They’re in there doing… I can’t get in because they’re both in there being…” Neville’s face looked Gryffindor red and he could not stop fidgeting with his hands. “They’re doing…”

“They’re having hot sex, that’s what you mean to say” Ginny cut him off with a deadpan expression. Harry snorted. And just like that, something in him broke. He began to laugh. He laughed so hard he almost felt tearful and Ginny joined him. Neville made a noise somewhere between a gag and a cry for mercy as they both fell down to the floor in hysterics and within a few seconds he had started giggling nervously as well.

They stayed that way until Hermione came out of the tent in tiptoes and almost had a fit upon seeing them all outside. They just stayed and kept laughing. Just a group of teenagers with so much love for each other, at once idiotic and wise beyond their years, laughing about sex and making fun of each other at a time when it seemed impossible that anything could be fun. And although Harry didn’t know this (because, despite her usual style, Mary had taken care not to be that explicit in her letters), this was exactly what it had been like twenty years before.

[pearl-blue-musings]

CAN I ORDER A MEDIUM WELL STEAK WITH FRENCH FRIES AND GREEN BEANS? WITH SOY SAUCE(sero)?? (ur sero angst made me tear up)

Hi yes of course I’m so sorry that angst made you cry 😭 but hopefully this will change those sad tears to happy tears!

To others with requests I’ll get to those! I wanted to do something not sex related cause that’s what most of the requests are 😅

Pairing: Sero Hanta x fem!reader there was just no way

Enjoy your meal~

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sero Hanta. Two semesters away from being a college graduate and applying his techniques from all his schooling into his pro hero work: soulmate-less. 

He remembers turning ten years old and seeing the magical red string on his pinky show up one day. The excitement he had at knowing he had a soulmate outmatched most of his friends at the time. He knew from his parents that little tugs on his pinky meant he and his soulmate were nearby and the tugs would increase, not to the point of pain, when they would finally meet.

He felt the first tug on his pinky a week or so after he got his string, telling him that there was indeed someone on the other end. But he never felt a tug after that. Sero didn’t let that shake him as he entered high school at UA. 

However, it did start to bother him greatly.

One by one, it seemed that almost everyone he met in his three years there found their soulmate in someway or another. Whether it was in class, at a festival, at an internship, or even on the job. Everyone had someone. Except him. 

Never him.

So by the time Hanta had turned 18, he had given up on his soulmate; the defeating blow coming after doing some late night pre-graduation research. 

Some people don’t even meet their soulmate

Sometimes if there hasn’t been any tugging for awhile, their soulmate could be dead and the string fades away.

Sometimes soulmates aren’t romantic and the person on the other side meets someone who isn’t their soulmate; very rare but it does happen.

He wanted to vomit. There’s no way they’re dead otherwise his string would have faded. But it might as well be that considering the odds of him meeting anyone new.  Sero exhales deeply as he shuts off his laptop and goes to bed. 

Although, there was a slight spark of hope in him when he decided to pursue his hero studies further before becoming a full fledged hero by applying to a hero university. However with his luck, it seems entirely unlikely. 

He slams his pillow over his head and tries to sleep away the sinking feeling at still feeling nothing on his pinky

***********

(Y/f/n). New hero law student at one of the best hero universities in the world and finished her undergrad early at the top of her class: soulmate-less.

She can remember the moment when she turned ten and that mysterious red string appeared on her pinky, feeling an immediate tug. It made her heart soar at the possibility of finding a love like her parents. However, her parents’ story wasn’t usual in the world of soulmates. 

Her mother’s original soulmate had died in a strange accident and she thought she would never love again. But then a couple months later a new purple string showed up and she found (Y/n)’s father. An unusual story but a lovely story nonetheless. She feared that her soulmate would die and she would have to suffer the same fate as her mother.

But no such color appeared, and tugs on her pinky were all but non existent. 

It was depressing for the budding young hero lawyer, but she knew what her goal in life was and that was to help heroes and civilians alike under the law. It’s not that she didn’t want to become a hero, but being a human lie detector she felt her quirk could be used to better society and help out the good people and put away the bad.

That’s why she knew she had to go to Japan, soulmate be damned! 

She knew of All Might, the notorious school U.A. and their students, along with the infamous League of Villains. Nothing like that happened where she was from so everything about that intrigued her. So naturally when applying to finish out her law degree, of course she’d choose a place where all the action was! She couldn’t wait to get her hands dirty. 

***********

With his final class of the day ending in the early afternoon, Sero left the lecture hall and went directly to the hero agency he’s been part timing at. Since he was still a college student, he couldn’t commit fully to being a hero so he took whatever patrol hours he could on top of the work he did (and don’t forget those smoke sessions to take off the load from school). He’s met with one of best friends from school, Kirishima, who also works at this agency established by his other best friend, Bakugou.

“You’re late, soy sauce face.”

“Sorry dude,” Sero chuckles, “couldn’t get on the early bus here.”

“Yeah yeah. Just get ready for patrol with Shitty Hair.” The ashy blond scoffs and walks off, returning to a phone call he was having.  Sero rolls his eyes as he heads to the locker room to change into his hero uniform, ignoring the twitching of his fingers. It’s still so weird how some people do and don’t recognize him at school as Cellophane. But that’s the way it has to be.

“Hey man, I don’t know if Bakugou told you this but we’re getting someone new.”

Sero pauses in putting on his hero outfit to look at the taller and buffer male. “Oh really? Another sidekick?”

“Actually no,” Kirishima beams, “some kind of lawyer type. It was decided after some hero managers and publicists were talking and the need for a hero lawyer, even one in training, would be good for us.”

“I totally get it,” Sero agrees, “considering Bakugou’s temper? Not surprised at all.” He finishes getting dressed and places his belongings in his locker. “So when are we meeting the unlucky bastard that has to look after us?”

“Either today or tomorrow. Either way, I think it’ll be great. You studied some hero law stuff, yeah?” Sero nods and the two men head out for patrol. “Maybe you two can talk and have something in common! You may never know.”

They turn the corner and begin on their way. “I appreciate you looking out for me, but I’m okay not having to meet my soulmate. I’ll just be single forever. It’s all good.” His fingers start to burn in a weird way but he shrugs it off.

The red head grunts, unconvinced. “Sure man. Whatever you say. Let’s hope patrol is relatively quiet, yeah?”

“Heh, when is it ever?”

*******

After getting settled into the apartment, you had gathered your belongings and hurriedly made your way to the nearest bus stop. You had your first meeting with the new agency you would be working at for hands on experience with hero law. It wasn’t necessary for your degree, but when you saw the opportunity arise, you grabbed it. 

Once aboard the bus, you sit down by the window and mentally go through your bag. You have your school credentials, any and all letters of recommendation, your resume and CV, plus a good head shot should they need it. You are on your way to meeting one of the rising heroes of Japan, Dynamight, at his agency. Since it’s a relatively popular agency filled with well known heroes, it makes sense that someone like you would be needed. You had wondered why they didn’t have someone who was already a certified and bar-passed lawyer, but you’re not going to complain. 

The bus ride went along pleasantly, not really looking at the people around you and focusing more on how to sell yourself to your upcoming clients. You’ve met with your advisor and she is letting you work with her firm via the hero agency. You’re pretty excited to say the least. However, the whole time you’ve been in Japan, a little over a week, you’ve been feeling that pull on your pinky.

Not wanting that to ruin your mood, or your bus ride, you ignore it and think it’s one of those rare phenomena where it’s moving wildly on its own. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you hadn’t realized the bus had stopped moving and the passengers were all sitting closer to you. 

The poor bus driver shakes in fear and the two villains that have entered the bus, striking fear into the passengers. You spot the supposed leader who’s yelling into someone’s face when you gather your courage and stand up.

“Hey! Leave them alone, they’re not doing anything to you!”

Your loud voice caught the attention of the villains, one whose quirk has some sort of telekinesis as you feel your body being unknowingly brought toward the front of the bus.

The man has his face up close to yours and you can smell the nicotine on his breath, making you cough. “You got something to say to me little girl?” His cohort comes over to inspect you carefully, noting the money and jewelry they’ve already procured and you eye them sharply.

You cough in his face and continue, “yeah I do. What makes you think you can just come up in here and harass us?” You motion your back hand to the scared passengers to leave, remembering the doors in the back. You also didn’t know that the bus driver had already pinged for help from the nearby agency, alerting its patrolling heroes.

****** 

Both Sero and Kirishima feel their phones buzz with an alert. They look to each other and start heading toward the coordinates provided. There was a bit more sense of urgency to this for some reason that Sero can’t quite place. 

The closer they get, they see some fleeing civilians. Kirishima stops one and politely asks her what’s happened. 

“These two villains jumped on the bus and hurt the bus driver! They were stealing things until this young woman stood up to them. She told us all to leave but I’m not sure what’s happened to her!”

The two heroes nod and follow the direction of where the lady pointed. They run off toward it and stop a block away to assess the situation. Only a handful of cops are around as it has quickly turned into a hostage situation. The woman earlier was right, and that makes Sero’s heart race in fear. 

“I can sneak up to the side of the bus, head toward the back to check for an entrance.”

Kirishima hums and adds, “right, I can attack from the front, provide a distraction and if necessary close combat.” He breathes to collect himself, knowing they’ve done this a thousand times over. “Let’s do it.”

Sero nods and leaps into position. He takes his place on the side of the bus without alerting the villains or the hostage. The cool metal of the bus helps him to clear his mind and think carefully. His nerves must be getting to him because his fingers, more like his pinky, can’t stop twitching. He’s done this before, so why is this time different.

He almost gives up his position when he hears your voice.

“You’re just some low life petty criminals. I’m not too worried about you two.”

There it is. That little tell when you know you’ve got someone in your clutches. The mind based one seemed to falter and you knew he was going to act out in anger. And you were betting on it.

“Shut up stupid woman. You think I won’t do something to hurt you? Take you down a peg, huh? Because you look like you need to be tamed.”

Your time practicing cross-examining is paying off because that last statement terrified you. Villains are shameless and you know they’d have no problem defiling you in front of the police here; plus you were interrogating him. It got the people out and if you die saving some people then it would have all been worth it.

The two young heroes listening for the right moment give each other a look and both move in to do their parts. The loud red head getting the attention of the villains using his charm and personality to distract them while Sero sneaks into the bus, light on his feet to avoid detection.

Something in you sends shivers down your spine because you don’t even have to see him to know that he’s there. You, almost on instinct, duck down in order for Cellophane to apprehend both criminals and for Red Riot to keep them face down on the floor. You feel tape being wrapped around you and pulled toward the back, but the sensation should’ve come from your waist, not your pinky.

“Are you okay? That was extremely brave standing up to those guys and getting everyone out.”

His voice was unexpected but it drew you in, almost like it’s something you’ve been waiting for your whole life. The hero in question looks down at you and you feel him flinch. He takes off his helmet to get a good look at you and the moment seems to go on forever.

It’s not until you look down at your pinky’s is when it finally hits the two of you.

You had met the other end of your soulmate line. And there he is. His eyes go wide and you immediately get lost in their shape and shade. Is this the feeling your mother described when first meeting your soulmate? Magical? Indescribable? Gosh what is he feeling?

“You, you’re....”

“My soulmate...” you finish.

Sero hadn’t realized that he still had you wrapped in his tape from rescuing you but he doesn’t want to let you go. He spots the tears falling from your eyes and gently places his hand against your cheek and wipes them away. It’s like his hand was made for holding your face and he doesn’t want to let go. He wants to keep holding you like this because for so long, he had resided to being single but, you’re here and you’re real.

“Yo Cellophane, put your helmet on we’ve gotta talk to the police and- oh my god no way.”

The two of you are interrupted by Red Riot who had returned to check on his friend after he hadn’t come out with you, the hostage, yet. The two of you look to the buff man and then back at each other, and cute and embarrassed chuckle leaving your lips.

“I guess we should leave, I have to give a statement and all.”

“And get your injuries checked. Sorry if I pulled you too hard.”

“No no it’s fine! Uh, what’s your name?”

“Ah, uh, Cellophane. But my friends, and now you my soulmate mi amor, can call me Sero Hanta.”

He kisses your hand then and if you were in a courtroom you would’ve lost the case at the way your composure is failing you. It takes everything in you to not faint, because everything you had read was true about the first time you meet your soulmate. Out of this world. 

You’re brought back to reality, when a police officer comes in asking what the hold up was. You two were forced apart and Hanta reapplied his helmet. Even with it on, he can’t stop looking at you. And now that his soulmate is finally within arms reach he doesn’t plan on letting you go.

The four of you, including Red Riot and the cop, walk out of the bus. The cop directs his attention to you and gruffly asks. “So what were you doing on the bus? Why did you stand up for those civilians when you aren’t a hero?”

You looked at him incredulously. You understand he’s doing his job but what kind of question is that? “I was on my way to a meeting at Dynamight’s agency. I was preparing my reading notes as their knew hero lawyer and representative and I saw this happening! How was I supposed to stay back and do nothing?”

As the cop writes down some of your statement, the other two accompanying you are dumbstruck. “Wait, Kiri starts, “you’re our new lawyer?!”

Your eyes widen when you put two and two together. “No way, you work for him?”

Sero lights up, “work for him? We’ve been best friends since our days at U.A.! Who would’ve thought I would meet you today huh?”

You turn to him again, still shocked at the mere audacity of meeting your soulmate today, or ever. Stuck in a war with yourself, you reach out and tangle your fingers with his, just to have his touch once more. “I had given up on finding my soulmate,” you softly admit, afraid to meet his eyes.

He takes his helmet off again, away from prying eyes and focuses his attention on you. “So did I, corazon.” He had placed a hand onto your cheek like earlier and rubbed comforting circles on your soft skin. You hadn’t realized how close the two of you had gotten until he whispers, “May I?”

You nod, and gently lean into his kiss. If meeting each other was the appetizer, then kissing for the first time was like a meal and dessert. It was so chaste, yet so filled with emotions locked away that are now begging to be overflowed into the light. You two pull away, looks of awe and maybe love adorn you faces as you attempt to lean in again.

“I hate to break up the love fest,” Kirishima interrupts looking bashful. “But we’ve got some paperwork to fill out and all that so, we gotta go. And hey, we can take you to the agency after we’re done at the station, I’m sure Dynamight’s eager to meet you.”

Despite everything that had been happening, you had completely forgotten about your meeting, and hurry to call your new employer. You’re on the phone for only a couple minutes, but it gives Kirishima and Sero time to talk.

“So, who would’ve guessed you finally meet your soulmate today huh?”

“Yeah.”

“And I was right there too!”

“Si.”

“Are you listening to me?”

Hanta was listening, but was too busy looking at you and already thinking that he can’t wait to fall in love with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

[kornito]

SOURCE: https://korngiant.tripod.com/kornisgoodforu/id10.html

Dead

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

All I want in life is to be happy", it's that simple. People say that it's become their own anthem. It's like whenever I start to feel good, something comes and takes it away and I feel like I'm nothing again, like I'm dead.

Falling Away From Me

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

The song is about domestic abuse and that there ways to get help whether it's telling someone or calling a help line, there are ways to get out of those situations. Noone has to be treated like that.

Trash

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

"Trash" is about how I threw my world and everything out. I threw her away. I threw my old self away. It basically comes back down to the sex thing. The battles I did on the road, this whole album is what I went through because I was on the road and I went crazy.

Beg for Me

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

"Beg For Me" is more of an angry thing because the whole thing for "Beg For Me" is the crowd. The only time I was good on tour was when I walked up onstage and that's what the song is about. Feeling wanted is something one thing I've always needed. I was shuffled around so much when I was a kid...Being up onstage was the only point was the only time when my anxiety would go away for an hour.

Make Me Bad

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

I need to feel the sickness in you" ... It's spawned from f**kin', basically, from having sex. That's where that line comes from, but it means a whole bunch of things to me. "Make Me Bad" was about the battles I had being on the road, being married and being with other women. I'm not married anymore... beause of my lifestlyle, and I just couldnt do that to my wife anymore. So that ended. But does it make me bad that I have a dick and I have f**ken other feelings to be with other people? Why should I be with just one? It seems like human beings are genetically engineered to procreate. Thats what we do, f**k everything, and that's what our natural insides want to do. It is hard to find someone like that. But she was a good woman and I didnt want to keep on... I did the right thing, I was a man about it. It was better for me to tell her and let her go on with her life and find someone who could help her and be like that. So that song was spawned by that, does it make me bad to want to be with other women? In a sence it was my only drug, why... because I dont drink anymore, I cant drink. I've been sober for a year. I dont have any other vices. So at least doing that could be something.

Hey Daddy

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

"Hey Daddy" where I was schizophrenic and there were these voices telling me to do sh*t... To kill myself, basically. Daddy is one of my nicknames, so its like I'm talking to myself the whole time. It's hard to explain.

Dirty

Song Meaning: Jonathan

"I feel like a fucking whore to record companies." "You know how it is...the way we are used and marketed." "How they make all the money off us and we don't make shit!" "The only way we make money is to go out on tour and sell merchandise" "Basiclly we write all the music and turn in and they make all the money." "So I feel like that and also I feel like a slut cuz I'd go out at night and fucking girls and so I said fuck it, I'm going to do it. The only way to escape is to have sex." "Its all kind of different issues."

Its On!

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's On is my sh*t peer pressure song. Me being so stressed out going out and partying. Everybody's just going 'Come on dude, it's on.' That's partying, it's alcohol, cocaine, women. All that wrapped into one. I wrote a song about it. And the chorus I talked about Why am I really doing this? It's all my fault that I'm doing this because all the alcohol, the booze an the chicks do is just make it worse. They just rearrange all the problems in a different order that I can deal with at that moment.

Freak on a Leash

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

One of the best titles I've heard ever for a song. That's my song against the music industry. Like me feeling like I'm f**kin' a pimp, a prostitute. Like I'm paraded around. I'm this freak paraded around but I got corporate America f**kin' making all the money while it's taking a part of me. It's like they stole something from me, they stole my innocence and I'm not calm anymore. I worry constantly.

Got the Life

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That's a song baggin' on myself. How everything's always handed to me. How I look up to God and don't want this anymore. Like I want something more out of life than all this. And I've got everything I really need but I sometimes don't like. I don't know how to explain it. I have to let it sit through the songs more to actually get into what I write. I truly know, really, the meanings of the songs almost. That's what I'm getting out of it right now.

Dead Bodies Everywhere

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That was the song about my parents trying to keep me out of the music business. My father was in it and he knew how it was and I totally understand now that I have a son. I want Nathan to be a musician but I him don't want him to go through the hell I went through. That's the same thing my Dad was doing. A lot of people can relate to it, because it's like the Dad's wanting their sons to be football players and their sons want to be doctors or something. That peer pressure its like trying to make them something they're really not. And the Dead Bodies thing is like so I did it and all I got out of it was dead bodies everywhere and got all traumatized. Thanks a lot Dad, Mom.

Children of the Korn

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That's the song that Ice Cube is on Cube came up with the title. I fed off of what he wrote, he was talking about growing up and puberty. Dictating what he can do, like how you gonna tell me how to live and who to f**k? And all this stuff. And I took that and in my stuff I was talking about being a kid always known as the f**kin' town faggot. It's funny how things change. That some of these people picked on me and all of a sudden look who's laughing now. Also in another of the verse I talked about all these parents f**kin hating me for what I do, saying I'm corrupting their children, but in turn these parents need to step outside of themselves and really listen to what I'm talking about. Then I think they can understand that they were kids before. They're just really quick to judge me. All the Children of The Korn are all our Korn fans. All those kids going through that sh*t and feeling what I feel.

B.B.K.

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Big black cock! That's what I call a jack and coke. Those little glasses they serve in Europe and everything. That's what I named it, big black cock. And that's another song about me dealing with the pressures of this album and how I, you know, I'm trying to kill myself, but you know? Do I really want to kill myself? Things I'm just questioning myself. Most of this is self-structured.

Pretty

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's a story about this little girl that came into the coroner's office when I was working there and she was f**ked by her dad. She was an 11 month old little baby girl. Her legs were broken back behind her and he just f**ked her like a toy doll and chucked her in the bathroom. It was the most heinous thing I've ever seen in my life and I still have nightmares about it.

All in the Family

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Fred was there after Korn TV and we said, 'Let's do a song together, Hey, man, let's go back and forth and rip on each other like an old school battle.' I don't know who's idea it was, I can't remember if it was mine or Fieldy's or Fred's but we came up with the idea and we started writing and we worked on it together. I came up with some bags on myself for Fred to say. It was all in good natured fun.

Reclaim My Place

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

This one is about the whole band and about all my life being called a homosexual. And then I became this big rock star in a band and I'm still called a fag even by my own band. So it's like I was f**kin' pissed off at them. It's like erase them all because I'm gonna reclaim my place and say hey, they owe a lot to me for what I did, and I owe a lot to them back. But, it still kinda sucks. I've never ever gotten away from that fag f**kin' title. Just because I'm a sensitive kinda guy. Kinda feminine it really sucks.

Justin

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Justin, that was the kid dying terminally with intestinal cancer. His last dying wish was to meet us and it really freaked me out. That threw a whole bunch of new kind of pressures on my head. That's really intense. Someone's gonna die and his last thing he wants to do is come hang out with us. So I truly just freaked out. It's like why would you want to meet me? What makes me so special? And in turn I talk about how I admire his strength and his life. I couldn't stare at him because he was so content he was gonna die. No one could look him in the eyes. And I totally admire his strength. I wish I had it.

Seed

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Seed. That's all about the same thing again. I laying in bed in my hotel room, thinking about do I really need all this stuff? All this pressure on me? Because I'm a stressed out freak. It's about Nathan, it's about every time that I look into his eyes, I see myself how I used to be, innocent and stress free. I'm kind of jealous of it. It really sucks, I used to be that way. It's like I have to work so hard at this thing in my life. I have to become a stressed out freak. I put food on the table for my child. Every time I look in his eyes, I just see myself staring right back at my @ss laughing. I was like care free, innocent as a child. It's really weird and I'm really jealous of it.

Cameltosis

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That's a love song. It's about women in general, women who hurt me. It's Tre's lyrics. He's going on about chicks and my chorus is like I'm so scared to love anyone and really let them in after I got hurt really really bad by a girl. I've let Renee in a little bit, to be honest, but I'll never be that in love ever again. That's what I'm saying, if you've loved twice, you're gonna get f**ked, 'cause you usually do.

My Gift to You

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Renee always wanted me to write her a love song and that's why I called it My Gift To You. It's my gift to her, you know how I get sick. I always had a fantasy of f**king her and choking her to death. I fantasize about what it would look like me in her body and watching me do it. So it's like a really sick f**ked up song. I did it totally like, I love her so much, I want to take her out of this world. It's really strange. She used to leave notes on my pillow like 25 ways she'd like to kill me. She's got this weird death fetish. We're kinda f**kin' freaky. She got it. She's all 'Thank you that's kinda f**ked up. I was expecting a f**kin' I love you, baby kinda song.' I'm all, 'No, you know me.' I mean I can't do that.

Chi

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Chi is about a lot of alcohol and drug abuse. People turn to that when they have problems so that they won't have to feel their pain. The song was named after Chi Cheng from the Deftones. We named it after him because he used to call it reggae, and he loves reggae music.

Lost

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's the sterotypical thing about your best friend meeting a chick, and then you're nothing

Swallow

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That's about being paranoid. Drug-induced paranoia.

Good God

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's about a guy I knew in school who I thought was a my friend, but who f**ked me. He came into my life with nothing, hung out at my house, lived off me, and made me do sh*t I didn't really wanna do." "I was into new romantic music and he was a mod, and he'd tell me if I didn't dress like a mod he wouldn't be my friend anymore."

"Whenever I had plans to go on a date with a chick he'd sabotage it, because he didn't have a date or nothing. He was a gutless f**king nothing. I haven't talked to him for years.

Mr. Rogers

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Back in the day when I was a speed freak, um... even further back when I was a little kid watchin' Mr. Rogers, that sh*t was scary. He was a freaky old man... Land of Makebelieve and Mr. f**kinMcFeely and sh*t... made me sick. So back when I was doing speed, like for 5 or 6 days I'd be trippin out and my brain would start to get freaky and get schizophrenic and stuff, and I'd tape it and watch it everyday over and over... I don't know, I was sick in the head. As a kid he told me to be polite and all it did was get me picked on. I f**king hate that man. Thanks for making me polite and trusting everyone, and easy to take advantage of. So I spent 3 months on that one song, just tweakin' on it, and it was totally just my Mr. Rogers obsession, about how evil I thought he was. Pretty much drug induced.

K @ # Ø % (Kunt)

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

People think it's sexist but it isn't. It's more subconcious b*tching at all the women who've been with me in my life. It's not about women in feneral, just those women who hurt me." "Initially, we wrote it to send to American radio for a joke, because they always chop up all the other songs. So we were going to send a 'real' single seven days later."

A.D.I.D.A.S.

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It stands for all day I dream about sex. It's about how much of a pervert my ass is, and how I daydream about what a stud I am. But when it comes down to it, I'm a f**king pussy and I'm in there jacking off.

a** Itch

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That was the last song I wrote, and I was so burned at writing out lyrics because everytime I write I get depressed because I start thinking about things, you know? So the whole song is about that. In the chorus it says, 'Before day, my sun will be dying'. It's because I put myself on the line all the time and for what? Because people aren't going to be listening to it anyway.

Kill You

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's about a relative I first met when I was 12. I f**king hate that b*tch. She's the most evil, f**ked up person I've met in my whole life. She hated my guts. She did everything she could to make my life hell. Like, when I was sick she'd feed me tea with Tabasco, which is really hot pepper oil. She'd make me drink it and say, 'You have to burn that cold out, boy'. f**ked up sh*t like that. So every night when I'd go to sleep, I'd dream of killing that b*tch. In some sick way I had a sexual fantasy about her, and I don't know what that stems from or why, but I always dreamt about f**king her and killing her

Ball Tongue

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

The meaning of ball tongue is simple. Some thought it had to do with oral sex, but in fact its about a guy we had to work with on a t-shirt (Jeff Creath). He either had a pierced tongue or a wart or something on his tongue and he was a dick to us.

Different live: Jonathan goes into a Rap (by Coolio) Called "Loddi Doddi" in the middle of the song.

Clown

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Korn was playing a show in San Diego for a clothing card. This skinhead guy came up and started flippin' me off. When we started, I bent down and the guy took a swing at me. Our tour manager, Jeff, got into it and knocked the guy out. I wrote this song about him: 'Scared to be honest with yourself/you're a cowardly man.

Faget

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Everyone thinks I'm bashing gay people in this song, and I'm not. It's really about me going through high school being called 'pussy,' 'queer' and all that stuff, about getting picked on by all these jocks.

Shoots and Ladders

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It was written because all these little kids sing these nursery rhymes and they don't know what they originally meant. Everyone is so happy when singing but 'London Bridge' is about the Black Plague. All of them have these evil stories behind them." "The lyrics are all from nursery rhymes, and a lot of nursery rhymes go back to the Middle Ages. They're actually pretty twisted if you know the stories behind them, like about Black Death and stuff.

Helmet in the Bush

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's about a speed problem that I had. You know, you do a lot of speed and -- if you're a male -- your penis retracts severly. The guy heard at the beginning of the song is La Caco, a friend of the band. His real name is Michael and likes taco bell. He's a really Nice Guy and he has been friends with the band for years

Daddy

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

People think daddy' was writen because my dad f**ked me up the ass,thats not what the song's about. It wasn't about my dad or my mum. When I was a kid I was being abused by someone else and I went to my parents and told them about it. and they thought I was lying and joking around, they never did sh*t about it. They didn't belive it was happening to their son. I don't like to talk about that song, this is the most I've ever talked about it...

[kabira]

06 | disguise

pairing — spider-man!vernon x ofc

featuring — joshua, yeji (itzy), felix (skz), yangyang (nct)

word count — 2.5k

genres — spider-man au, marvel au, fluff, action, angst, humor

warnings — none

go to fic masterlist | main masterlist

Joshua walked into the cafeteria alert, his head held up and gaze searching for a familiar brunet head amongst the thick crowd in the room. Usually he’d be late, probably held up talking to a teacher or waiting for Vernon, but after the experiences of the past week, he knew better than to wait up for his distracted friend.

“Sorry!” he yelled after almost colliding with a girl and making her spill her banana milk down the front of her shirt. She glared at him as he gripped his tray tighter and winced, quickly shouldering through the group before him to get to his table and as far out of her reach as possible. “Coming through!”

He reached the empty table as the same time Vernon did, both of them putting down their trays at the same moment. Joshua raised his eyebrows, letting a small smile form on his face as he slipped into the seat next to Vernon’s. “The prodigal returns,” he announced. “Where have you been, dude? I’ve barely seen you all week.”

Vernon shrugged, tapping his fingers on the table. He seemed distracted, eyes darting around the cafeteria as if waiting for something, or someone, to appear. Joshua knew that look—it was the one that indicated that something bad was about to happen, most likely within a ten-meter radius. “Um,” the blue-haired boy muttered with a small frown, “I don’t have to worry about that Rhino guy busting down the door, do I?”

“What?” Vernon glanced at him with wide eyes, as if only just having noticed he was here. “Uh, no. At least, I don’t think so.” He smiled sheepishly, hands sliding over the tabletop to grip his tray again, though Joshua guessed it was just to stop them from moving. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Joshua sighed, placing a fingertip against the bridge of his glasses and sliding them up his sweat-slicked nose. It wasn’t even hot out, but being in a room packed with sweaty, hormonal bodies will do that to you. “I was asking you what you’ve been doing to keep busy in the last few days.”

“Nothing much,” Vernon said, twirling his plastic fork. He looked distracted, maybe a little tired, but despite the dark circles under them, his eyes were alight. “Because of the new team, I have to do all of these S.H.I.E.L.D. training projects with them, and they keep giving up these random hero assignments like stopping robberies and rescuing cats from trees. You know, the usual.” He shrugged. “It’s kind of annoying that I have barely any creative freedom with my fighting these days.”

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Joshua quipped. “If you call flying solo creative freedom.”

His best friend grinned. “Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you,” he said, suddenly excited as he leaned forward on his elbows, eyes glittering. “I got a job in Dr. Connors’s lab.”

“That biotech guy who worked with your dad?” Joshua raised his eyebrows, looking impressed. “When?”

“Last Tuesday.” Vernon’s eyes had taken on an almost dreamy quality as he talked about his new job. “It’s just the post of research assistant, pretty basic stuff really, but he lets me take part in some of the data collection sometimes. Man, you should look at all the amazing equipment in his lab. He’s got a BOD incubator, an electrophoresis chamber—”

“Vernon.” Both the boys looked up at the source of the voice, which stood before them in the form of Felix Liu (or, as he was better known, Felix Lee). The boy’s eyes glazed over Joshua as if he wasn’t even there before coming to rest on Vernon’s with a kind of communicative intensity. “You’re wanted in the principal’s office.”

Vernon stared at the boy for a few moments, looking confused, and Felix raised his eyebrows, glaring at him meaningfully. Joshua glanced between them, wanting to say something but a little apprehensive of doing so. “The principal’s office?” Vernon echoed, a defiant note in his voice. “Why?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Felix asked, scowling. “Coulson himself stopped me in the hallway, so it must be urgent. You should probably go talk to him.”

Something like realization flickered across Vernon’s features. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, right. You’re right.” He got up suddenly, casting an unsure look at Joshua as if he’d just remembered there was a witness to their exchange. He glanced at Felix with a conflicted look in his eye, clutching the back of the chair uncertainly. “Uh, there’s something I should tell you—”

“Tell me later,” Felix cut him off impatiently, waving him away. “Just go.”

Vernon glanced at Joshua again, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. He opened his mouth, looking like he was about to say something, then stopped himself. He shook his head, chest deflating as he let go of a long breath, before turning around and making his way towards the exit.

Joshua kept his eyes on his retreating back as he went, not turning even when he felt Felix pull up a chair opposite him. Only when Vernon finally disappeared behind the double doors did he turn to his food, which lay untouched on his plate. Something was up, and he had a good idea about what it was.

“Aren’t you going to eat that?” Felix asked, making Joshua look up at the sound of his voice. The boy’s cheeks were puffed out, mouth already filled with whatever they were supposed to consume by way of food for lunch. When Joshua didn’t answer, he cocked an eyebrow. “Well?”

“I don’t feel like eating,” the blue-haired boy murmured, but unwrapped his sandwich anyway. The new kids had started eating at his, Luce’s and Vernon’s usual table in the past week, which Joshua was completely okay with—except he usually had at least one of his old friends to keep things from becoming too awkward. Between the three of them, Joshua was probably the one with the worst social skills.

He took a tiny bite of his sandwich, and glanced despairingly at the door, waiting for Luce to show up. Heck, even Yeji or that other guy—Yangyang?—would have been welcome. Felix had always struck him as the silent type, but he didn’t yet know if it was a strong silent or a sensitive silent. Eating this way was awkward, to say the least, but the only topic of conversation Joshua could think of was probably not fit for discussion in public.

Ah, to hell with that. “You’re Iceman, right?”

Felix looked up so quickly Joshua heard something crack in his neck. He felt a sudden, sharp, bite-like pain in the back of his right hand, which had been lying much too close to Felix’s tray. “Ouch!” Joshua pulled back his hand with a hiss, cradling it against his chest. “What the hell was that for?”

“Sorry, I—” Felix stopped with a small scowl. “Hey. Don’t go around saying stuff like that!”

“So you are Iceman,” Joshua said. “Can’t really deny it now.”

Felix blushed at the statement. The color that flooded his cheeks was startlingly bright against the pallor of his skin. “Who told you that?” he demanded. “Was it Vernon?”

“No, I kind of figured it out by myself.” He lightly touched the back of his hand again, making sure the feeling in it hadn’t been stopped entirely. “Between three new superheroes showing up with Spider-Man and three new kids dropping right into the middle of the session less than a day apart, it wasn’t hard to guess,” he said. “You were sent here by the biggest super spies in the world and the best disguise they could come up with was hair dye and a last name change?”

Felix didn’t snap at him again, but the look he was giving him was definitely hostile. “You have a better idea?” he countered. “In case you haven’t noticed, no one in the school has realized my identity yet.”

“Except me.”

“Except you,” he added, though a little sourly. “And that’s probably because you already know who Spider-Man is.”

Joshua considered this. “Well, that is true,” he admitted. “But it’s still kind of surprising that none of the kids that go here have figured it out yet.”

“They probably don’t want to believe there’s a mutant in their school,” Felix muttered. Joshua noticed how his face darkened as he continued staring at his food, stabbing the mashed potatoes with his plastic spoon. “People believe what they want to see.”

Joshua studied the boy, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the probably unconscious crease in the middle of his forehead. “Are you…” he started, then hesitated. What was he supposed to say?

Felix waved the half-question away, and spooned in a huge mouthful of his potatoes, indicating that the conversation was over. Joshua took another bite of his sandwich, wondering what was going through the blond’s head. Not having a secret identity, he didn’t know what it would feel like to have a common high school kid figure it out within days of meeting you. Something bad, probably.

There was a metallic clunk as someone placed their tray on the table. Luce swung her bag off her shoulders, dropping it to the floor, and took a seat next to Joshua. “Sorry I’m late, got caught up in a meeting,” she said, seemingly oblivious to the tension at the table. “What’d I miss?”

Joshua cast a furtive glance at Felix, only to find the boy’s eyes already trained on him. He hadn’t noticed before, but Felix’s eyes were brown. Joshua had never taken a close look at Iceman’s eyes, but somehow, he knew the brown eyes were a result of contact lenses.

“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all.”

Running in the hallways wasn’t allowed, but when you were going to the principal’s office, Vernon guessed it was an exception.

He sprinted all the way to the room, equal parts concerned and annoyed by the summons. If Coulson had called on him in school, then it was probably something important—but on the other hand, he hadn’t asked for Felix. Maybe it was a specifically Spider-Man related emergency.

When he burst through the door into the office, Coulson was leaning against the side of his desk, arms folded over his chest. The only other person in the room was Yangyang, who was seated on one of the chairs before the principal’s table, picking at the stuffing peeking out of the worn-out arm of the chair.

Vernon let the door shut behind him before stepping in, glancing between the two in confusion. The atmosphere definitely didn’t feel urgent. “Agent—I mean, Principal Coulson,” he said, wincing slightly at his slip-of-the-tongue. “You asked for me?”

“I did.” Coulson uncrossed his arms, placing the heels of his hands against the edge of the table. “Take a seat.”

Vernon crossed the room hesitantly, slowly sitting on the unoccupied chair. “Uh,” he said, glancing at Yangyang’s lounging figure with a frown. “Is this about something important?”

“It is indeed,” the agent confirmed, straightening. “If you consider the Shocker important.”

“Shocker?” Vernon repeated. “Isn’t he in S.H.I.E.L.D. jail or something?”

Yangyang snorted, and Vernon shot him a murderous look. “Unfortunately, no,” Coulson answered. “We’ve been trying to apprehend him, but he’s been laying low for a while.”

“Shocker, laying low?” Vernon raised an eyebrow. “Not something you see every day.”

“Yesterday, he robbed a bank on Madison Avenue,” Coulson continued, ignoring him. “I didn’t call you in then because you had a pop quiz in history going on, but—”

Yangyang groaned. “Seriously? Man, I could have used the distraction.”

The agent gave him a sharp look, before facing Vernon and speaking. “He’s out again today, terrorizing citizens in Central Park,” he said. “Usually, I’d prefer for other professionals to take on him, but orders are orders, and you, Vernon, have the most experience with him and will probably be able to take over him the most quickly.” He looked almost regretful, probably about them having to miss school hours. Damn, he was really getting into his role as the principal. “You are to leave immediately.”

“Wait, what’s he doing in Central Park?” Vernon frowned. “That’s not the most lucrative venture for a small-time villain.”

“Terrorizing citizens.” Coulson raised his eyebrows. “As I said.”

“Terrorizing citizens…?” Vernon muttered, sitting up a little. “That’s strange.”

“What’s up, Parker?” Yangyang asked with a mocking grin, uncrossing his legs and getting to his feet. He stretched, flexing his shoulders. “Disappointed in your little pet project?”

“Shut up, bucket head,” Vernon murmured. “It’s just not his usual style, but I guess he’s branching out.” He pursed his lips. “Still, I can’t imagine why.”

“And I can’t imagine why the two of you would stand around bickering and wasting your time when there’s a dangerous criminal on the loose,” Coulson said firmly, giving them a very teacher-like look. “Get going already.”

Vernon blinked. He glanced at Yangyang, who stood by the door looking at him expectantly, and then at Agent Coulson. “Wait,” he muttered, brow creasing as it slowly dawned on him where this was heading. “What about Tiger and Iceman?”

“They’re not needed for this simple mission,” Coulson said. “I’m sure the two of you can handle this problem by yourselves just fine.”

“Unless you’re scared of old Shocker, that is.” Yangyang gave him a lopsided smirk. “In which case, I’m sure Agent Coulson wouldn’t have a problem packing you an extra pair of underwear when you wet your pants.”

Vernon glared at him, his grip tightening on the armrests as he refused to get up. His gaze swiveled to the agent, eyes going round and pleading. “What about sending me with White Tiger instead?” he asked imploringly. “I’m sure we could take Shocker down more efficiently since we’ve had more time to practice our maneuvers together—”

“Go. Now.” Coulson was definitely not taking no for an answer as he gave him a stern look. Vernon stood up slowly, not taking his eyes off the man, just in case he got a last-minute break, but he was unrelenting. “Today would be good.”

“What are you going to tell your teachers?” Vernon asked desperately as he reluctantly made his way towards the door, where Yangyang was still waiting for him. He gave the boy a disbelieving look, surprised that he was willing to go along with all of this. Their animosity was, on most days, mutual. “We have bio lab later, and we’re both partners, and if I miss this class I might—”

“Don’t worry about that, leave it to me,” Coulson said, now simply looking impatient. “And stop making excuses to get out of the situation. Every little second you waste here doing that means another second of those innocent civilians being in danger. What happened to all your preaching about responsibility?”

Saying this, he pushed the two boys out of his office and shut the door in their face. Vernon stared at it glumly, finally accepting his fate.

“Come on, then, partner,” Yangyang said. He stood next to him with his arms crossed over his chest, grinning like a cat after a catch. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

[ghoulciifer]

submission:

@androgynouswordsmyth: “Hi Tum c: this is for your matchup event! 5’6”, with an hourglass figure, has that broad shouldered goddess energy going on. Used to swim competitively in highschool & still have a nice shape. Would describe my style as athletic comfort meets swamp witch. Love wearing black, it goes with everything. But also one of those people that wears workout clothes because they’re comfortable & easy. An admirer of all things relating to the occult & witchcraft. I have two tattoos small ones on my upper thigh & on the inside of my bicep. Often asks “What’s your sign?” Green eyes & shoulder length brown hair that is dyed seafoam green. I am soft spoken & gentle when I interact with everybody. All about self growth & healing. A huge advocate for self care. Love venting about my dumb corporate job. Deep down I'm a rebel anarchist. Often says things like “I’m just a cog in their machine” or “metal till I die”. My end game is writing fantasy novels for a living writing is my passion. I am a person who gets lost in thought & day dreams, a homebody who is fatigued & curls up in bed with Netflix playing in the background while I write rp responses or some of my own stuff. I have depression & anxiety, which I manage with both medication & therapy. Am attracted to bad boys/girls. Kindness & respect in my relationships are important, emotional maturity & a sense of humor are huge & my favorite color is dark pine green. Someone from BNHA, NSFW. Write what feels right.”

notes: aiden! i’m so happy you participated in my event, also you seem like the coolest person? ever? so of course i had to pair you up with one of the coolest dudes in bnha! your support means the world, thank you so much for being my mutual on this hell app ❥

why i matched you:

» you and dabi would get along exceptionally well, both with how you are and how you present yourself. your inner anarchists would collide beautifully and no doubt lead you two into trouble, but who else would you rather start a riot with than someone like him? he thinks it’s kickass that you understand what it means to be a pawn in society’s game, and has no issue with having you by his side to tear that shit down.

» dabi really adores your aesthetic. he finds it incredibly intriguing and thinks it suits your personality well; your hair, your occult lifestyle, and boy does he love your tattoos. he often offers to pay (w stolen money ofc) for you to get more if you want them - one of the best ways of self expression is covering yourself with art, and he supports it wholeheartedly. he likes to trace the ink on your skin during intimate moments and often finds himself admiring them elsewhere, thinking about how gorgeous you’d look with a few more pieces in places only he could see.

» though he might not be as poetic as you, dabi admires your creativity and urges you to keep up with your passion. he’s going to be super lowkey about it but he shows that feeling by doing smaller things, like picking up notebooks for you here and there or offering to get you better quality pens for when you’re brainstorming a story. he won’t tell you but he sometimes reads your stories at night while you’re sleeping (only the ones you’ve offered for him to read, though), and is always left in awe of how talented his girl is.

» when he’s not painting the town red or burning someone to a crisp, he’s more than happy to stay at home with you and curl up with a good show. despite his wicked, cold demeanor he’s actually very affectionate with the person he chooses to pursue! so expect lots of gentle touches, lazy kisses here and there, soft whispers here and there about how warm you are and how nice you feel against his charred skin. he’s not afraid to show you his love because if you can stick with someone like him, well, that’s proof enough that you’re worth it all.

» dabi never does anything without purpose. every action he takes is a part of the grander scheme of things, and he does so with such a drive that is rivaled by most heroes. so you can definitely check maturity off your list. as far as humor goes? he’s a smug bastard, and his sly remarks and teases are aimed directly at you for the sole purpose of making you smile. sometimes he’ll just sit and say the dumbest things to see how hard he can make you laugh, because in a life surrounded by death and darkness, your giggles really help him see it all in a different light.

» dabi’s experienced enough trauma to understand what your inter turmoil is like, but he’s beyond proud of you for taking charge and handling it however you can. he’ll be your biggest supporter when you need it and is so goddamn protective of you. you’ll never not feel safe, because it’s that constant worry in the back of his mind about how just being with him puts a target on your back that pushes him to take extra precaution. you might have a few close calls here and there because, let’s face it, villains are ruthless - but at the end of the day he’s always able to pull you right back to him and remind you he’ll always come for you.

drabble:

Dabi rolls off of your spent body with a slight groan, the thin sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies glowing in the dim light of the bedroom. Your chests rise and fall to a steady rhythm of labored breathing - and as much as you both loved being tangled with each other mere minutes ago, you need a second to let your sweltering skin cool off and your aching muscles to relax after that particularly tiring session. Dabi catches the exasperated sigh escaping your lips and grins from your slumped form in his peripheral.

He always thought you looked the most beautiful like this. When your eyes were half lidded and pupils blown, skin covered in teeth marks and bruises, hair haphazardly strewn about on the pillows. It was a sign he did a job well done, and the image brands itself into his memory every time he’s lucky enough to see it happen. Lost in his daydream, he doesn’t see that sinfully innocent smile tug at the corners of your mouth when you catch him zoning in on your post sex euphoria.

“Y’know, you’re more than welcome to take a picture… they last much longer.”

He laughs, a short exhale from his pierced nose, “I might just do that, doll. Next time.”

Your smile grows wider and you prop yourself up on your elbows, sliding over the tangled sheets to get closer to him and be able to reach and trace over the stapled skin of his chest with delicate fingertips. He closes his eyes at the feeling before loosely wrapping an arm around your lower back, thumb gliding back and forth just below your ribs.

You bask in this comfortable silence for what feels like a lifetime. This was your favorite part of the aftercare, just enjoying each other’s presence that much more as you regain a stable heartbeat, eventually letting Dabi gather you in his strong hands to lay you over his scarred chest when the cool air overstays its welcome on his skin. Once your cheek meets his chest he leans forward to ghost a kiss into your damp hairline, lips lingering there a bit longer every time. The steady beat of his heart usually lulled your eyes closed with its melody. At this point, it was all routine.

Dabi is the first to break the silence, the deep gravel in his voice reverberating through his chest against your ear, “Y’know… if we’re gonna fall asleep like this, the least you could do is read me a bedtime story.”

“Too tired… s’your fault.” he feels your smile and hot breath against his pectoral, broad chest rumbling in laughter at your quip.

“Hm, guess I need to go easier next time. But you weren’t complaining when I was balls dee-“

“Dabi!” You smack his skin and whip your head upward to look him in the eye with a look of feigned shock, and it's hard to contain the giggle that escapes from your dropped jaw. He chuckles again before craning his neck to leave a peck at your bottom lip, his hand raising to push your head gently down to his chest again, the other finding its way beneath the pillow under his head.

“Shh, just go to sleep, stupid.”

“Shut up… dummy.”

matchups are CLOSED! thank you to those who entered or have been keeping up with this event! remember you can check to see updates on matchups + if your matchup has been posted via the #tumplaysmatchmaker tag!

[therandomfish]

A Babysitters Guide to Monster Hunting- A Randomfish Review

Did you like the remake of Ghostbusters where there were female Ghostbusters? Well then you’ll love the all female remake of Monster Squad... 

Is that accurate? Kind of. It feels like that right from a main character who believes in monsters, a villain who wants to bring together an army of monsters and of course sometimes the most random of moments. Although it isn’t an actual remake and it is it’s own thing want to make that clear. 

What’s the story? Kelly Ferguson (played by Tamara Smart)  is the kid at school who is apparently tortured by the kids of the town because she apparently saw a monster in her room and everyone just calls her “Monster Girl” oh and she skipped a grade because she’s smart, thanks to the exposition teacher (or maybe he’s the math teacher I forget) 

Okay first thing to dissect is this..... WHY?! Why are the kids still torturing her about THAT? First off these are teenagers there would be plenty of gossip around town I’m fairly sure and secondly this doesn’t appear to be a massively small town so this type of thing wouldn’t be as well known as it is! There is the generic bully girl played by Anisa Harris who just picks on her coz she’s nerdy and weird but... again this feels very pointlessly generic... haven’t we evolved our bullies since then? 

Kelly then gets’ guilt tripped to babysit her Mum’s boss’s kid because her Mum just assumed that she would be doing nothing ever and that she wouldn’t be trying to grow up and move on with her life like going to a party that was randomly announced in the hallway by some dude... I mean I can’t exactly say that’s it’s a bad scene either just convenient and to be honest if we sinned movies for being convenient then we’d just hate all movies (right CinemaSins?) and that the dude that is clearly the hot guy at school said he’d go and Kelly now wants to go in order to impress him and steal him away from Anisa Harris (yes the character has a name but she is so bland and forgettable why should I remember that character’s name?) but she goes to the boss’s house to babysit the kid named Jacob Zellman (Wow, I’m starting wonder if his mother is anyway related to Zelda or Hilda Spellman and just changed their names out of embarrassment) with the mother leaving behind a massive set of insane rules. However we learn that Jacob sees monsters just like Kelly did and while Kelly didn’t end up being taken by the monsters Jacob definitely does... okay now with the designs of the “Toadies” as they’re called in the film that’s not bad... what makes me laugh however with the rise of the villain of the film called Grand Guignol played by Tom Felton (yes THAT Tom Felton as if there’s any other) being a leader of some kind of boogiemen type of monster I began to wonder if we were about to get a modern take on the song “Dance Magic Dance” all of a sudden. 

We then get introduced to the films’ resident badass on a scooter (not a motorbike because that doesn’t equate badass anymore apparently) who is Liz played by Oona Laurence who turns up with all the information and starts essentially dumping exposition on us! From names of monsters to the book that she has to read to understand everything about the monsters and all of this completely cavalier while carrying a baby on her back. After chasing down one of the toadies they bring it back to their headquarters where we actually get an idea why the film is called this; A Babysitters Guide to Monster Hunting where we learn that apparently this organization has existed for hundreds of years. We see pretty quickly that the writer of the book also wrote the screenplay as he just says things while assuming that the people who’ve read the book are watching and everyone else be damned.... well I am part of everyone else and I say “No! You be damned for once!” We then meet our resident variety of side characters who will do next to nothing; Fat Kid (I mean  Curtis Critter played by Ty Consiglio), Cassie Zhen (played by Lynn Masako Cheng) and Berna Vincent (played by Troy Leigh-Ann Johnson) I say their names and characters now because to be honest they do a little behind the scenes stuff and try to give themselves focus but the crux of the whole thing rests on Kelly and Liz (who if you couldn’t tell from the attitude and the “hog” has a dark backstory) so they go off to get Jacob back who is being forced to bring his dreams to life which is why Draco Felton was trying to get him and why he was trying to get Kelly all those years ago too (yeah, that was a thing apparently Draco Felton has been stalking kids for years, there there’s an image in your fangirl minds about Draco Malfoy stalking kids) and so they go off to try and get a creature that can help them get the pieces together to take on and destroy Draco Felton and so they go to.... any guesses anyone? Yes you are correct madam it was the party that Kelly wanted to go to! They go there, words are exchanged, the boy that Kelly likes is confused but impressed I guess with the way she is as herself, generic bully is put in her place by Liz and, despite her saying that she wouldn’t go to the party while she was supposed to be babysitting Jacob there are videos on Instagram of her jumping off of a higher floor in someone’s home... that’ll look great Kelly well done also you wanna relax after jumping down a floor and landing on your face? No? Okay what do I know? They collect what they need and the nerd crew at the base (told you I’d forget their names they’re so forgettable those.... who?) make a device that Kelly can use to essentially punch Draco Felton to death (PUNCHING PEOPLE: As long as it’s monsters, it’s okay) they travel to a cat monster type person who traps them, LIz gets taken away by Felton and Kelly, who has been shockingly okay with this whole ordeal just gets up and heads for the lair on Liz’s scooter (sure she wont’ mind, at least fill up the tank you greedy whatsit) where we had learnt previously that Liz lost her brother to Draco Felton (see? Dark backstory) and he had hypnotized her with his lullaby even though we were shown that NEVER HAPPENING until we got to Liz so SCREW YOU MOVIE! Kelly snaps her out of it, they punch Draco Felton to death, Jacob is reunited with his mum just in time (Ferris Bueller would be proud) and Kelly begins her initiation into the Babysitters club and the ending is her looking at a book one of Draco Felton’s relatives, not going to the movies with a boy (because girl gotta save the world yo) and she’s feeling happy about this life of danger and madness she must now lead..... obviously this is baiting for a sequel, will it get one? I dunno we got a sequel to the Kissing Booth for crying out loud, something that didn’t need to happen in the least yet it did! 

So what did I think of it? Well it’s trying to be like the monster hunting, wise cracking monster kid movies of old, hence why I referenced monster squad but does that make it good? I mean the acting isn’t awful, Tom Felton does a pretty good job with that role and it did take me a while to realise it was him under the makeup. Tamara Smart and Oona Laurence were fine as leading ladies although Oona felt like she should have been older when playing this role, just to show the difference in age and to show what the life could do to you. As it stands it feels like when Molly Ringwald and Ally Sheedy meet in Breakfast club if they went hunting for Judd Nelson after he turned into a werewolf or something. 

But with all of it being said, this film was funny in places, tried to offer a sense of scariness that needed to go a bit further with it’s ideas 

I’d say a solid 7/10 (yes I do ratings) 

Please like this and let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to review next 

[meg-noel-art]

003 character - adora

DUDE, dude, yes.

A D O R A

I could talk about her forever lesgo:

1.) How I feel about this character:

I have never found Adora anything less than a fascinating and complex protagonist. She's got all the characteristics of a classic hero archetype: she's brave, kind hearted, strong, selfless.... But she's also unbearably human. She makes a lot of mistakes. She's afraid of her responsibilities and her 'destiny', she's stubborn and sometimes extremely narrow minded (her way or the high way kind of situation), she's insecure and has a guilt complex the size of the planet itself.

And what's great about that is that all of those flaws stem from her background as a child soldier. It's all surprisingly gritty and real for the protagonist of cartoon.

Her misguided motivations always make sense, they align with the character we've come to know and love for all of her complexities. She's a great role model in some ways, and in others, she's an example of behaviors to avoid. MORE CHARACTERS LIKE THIS PLEASE. More heroes with just as many flaws as the rest of us. Adora's easy to relate to in that sense because we all have issues too. And when the protagonist of your show, is as broken as your audience, it makes the entire world of Etheria seem that much more personal.

I love her.

2.) Any/all people I ship romantically with this character:

If you know me at all, you know I ship Adora pretty exclusively with Glimmer. But I also see merits to some of her other ships. I like the fact that Adora unabashedly crushes on giant burly lesbians. Like, amazing 10/10 writing. Same hat.

Anyway, I'm going to use this opportunity to go off on Glimmadora:

I love this ship. And sure, for all the normal reasons, it's cute, it's wholesome, it's soft. But I like it for a lot more than that. I sincerely think it's an excellent dynamic. The two start out as staunch enemies. But not personal ones. They've never wronged one another. They've never even met. They were simply born and bred to hate/fight one another. Glimmer is a princess, the very thing Adora has been trained from childhood to destroy. And Adora is a key cog in the Horde machine that took her father away from her, strained her relationship with her mother, and essentialy structured her ENTIRE life. She was born into a war, and has never known anything else. Neither has Adora.

And yet, within hours of meeting each other, when they are at first hostile, they are then forced to work together and quickly come to realize that there entire lives have been built on propoganda, essentially. Yes the Horde is evil. But this is just a girl who was drafted into an army, who has never seen the outside world until today, who doesn't know what her own birthday means. And this other girl is a Princess, sure... But she's not a monster. She's not burning villages or murdering Horde soldiers? Upon putting aside their differences, Glimmer and Adora accept one another for who they are as individuals and that only grows throughout the seasons. There's never a moment where Glimmer ever acts as anything but supportive towards Adora and her various insecurities for the first 3 seasons. And likewise, Adora depends on Glimmer's support and comfort and it bolsters her as both a person and in her role as She Ra.

More than that, they are both the person the other needs, in a sense. Adora needs a person who isn't afraid to challenge her own stubbornness and her sometimes single mindedness. She needs someone who gently supports her through the rough times, but who also pushes her to be better when she feels hopeless. Glimmer does all this for her and more, just by being herself. It's a wholesome, fluffy ship, sure. But it also makes sense and portrays what a sincerely healthy relationship looks like in media and that's SO GOOD. They have their drama, and their arguments, anyone in any kind of relationship does. But it all stems from a desire to protect and care for the other and I'm going on for far too long, moving on--

3.) My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character:

Scorpia!!! She and Adora are at odds from the get go because of their contrasting relationships with Catra. But they're really fairly similar and I think eventually they'll be good friends. They're both very kind hearted and brave and forgiving. I can imagine Adora really giving up on herself and Scorpia being there to tell her how great and strong she is like she always did for Catra. They'd also have 'strength-offs' or sparring sessions and it'd be super cute. Be friends pls ;-; season 5 pls...

4.) Unpopular opinion about this character:

Um.... I mean it's ship related, but I think Catradora is detrimental to Adora's character and development as a whole? It detracts from all of her growth as a character thus far as well as her escape from an abusive home environment. But that's a whole other post I could make, so I'll leave it there.

5.) One thing I wish would happen to this character in canon?

I think we all want this, but I want Adora to S N A P. I want her to break emotionally and let all that grief and rage and guilt fuel her for a bit. We've seen glimpes of it. But I want her to get a moment to FEEL everything she obviously stuffs down for the sake of being She Ra, everyone's hero and hope. I want her to just be Adora and to break down to her lowest point so that she can finally start to heal. I think season 5 has set it up perfectly and now it just needs to knock the pins down. And I can't wait to watch 👀

6.) Favorite friendship for this character?

BOW! Bow is a great friend in general, but he is EXCEPTIONALLY patient with Adora and really listens to her. I STILL remember the moment in Mystacor during season 1 when he listens when Adora says she used to punch things in the Horde instead of relaxing. When the hot springs don't work, his next suggestion is that they find her something to hit! He is a good boy ;-; and a gentle friend and I wish season 4 had given them more conversations. They had plenty of time together but they didn't actually interact or talk much, which is weird. Bow is the guy I can see Adora goes to when she has questions that embarass her about Etheria, or relationships, or big scary topics. Because he'd approach them calmly and wouldn't talk down to her.

I also really wish Adora and Mermista interacted more because their opposing attitudes contrast so hysterically.

7.) My crossover ship:

HMmMMmm interesting..... I'd probably go with Kara Danvers!! Supergirl. Both are essentially aliens to their planet, adopted by families that teach them how to BE a hero in both their personal and "professional" lives. They are both lovably dumb with hearts of gold that just want to do the right thing but fear they can't. They'd have a lot in common. Also both strong and blonde and blue eyed and I -- 👀👀

That's it!!! Thank you for letting me scream about Adora ❤❤🥺

[laruna]

— epiphany.

characters. lim yuri, kim namjoon, etc.

word count. 19.4k

genre. angst, fluff, friendship, slow burn

warnings. mentions of colorism and homophobia, family issues, arguments

summary. lim yuri keeps a long record of epiphanies, many of which concern a very special kim namjoon. and maybe accidentally falls in love in the process.

December 14, 2007. Lim Household. Seoul, South Korea.

An epiphany is an experience of a sudden and striking realization.

Lim Yuri learned that in English class today. Admittedly, it was the first time in that class that she’d actually heard a word she didn’t know. English was the only language her parents both spoke, so it was all she ever spoke at home. Naturally, it had always been a subject that she breezed through until today.

Normally, she wouldn’t think much of it, but today was the last day of school before the holiday break, her teacher has very cruelly given her class over-the-break work. It’s not like it was anything hard, just the simple task of reciting an epiphany you’ve had over the holidays in perfect English to the class. Unlike most of her classmates, the English wasn’t the hard part.

Yuri has never been very fond of sharing things about herself. She’s always found blending into the background made every aspect of her life easier, so sharing a sudden realization that she’s had sounds like it’ll imply a lot about her. She figures that she’ll just make a list. At the end, she can choose.

Epiphany #01: I look different from the other kids.

She’s not quite sure if that one counts. It’s not something she’s suddenly realized, after all, especially just over the break. It’s something she’s known for a while now, slowly having come to realize it after all the little moments piled up. It’s in everything—the way the other kids in class look at her unless she keeps her head down, the way people talk to her in English first like she’s a foreigner, the way her aunt tells her she has the skin of Jeju and Busan’s beach girls. At first, she’d taken that last one as a compliment, but her aunt had run to the bathroom to give her a bottle of skin lightening cream before Yuri could say anything. Which was mortifying, to say the least.

Sometimes she does wish she lived in Busan instead. Even though her father grew up there, he never seems to have anything good to say about the city, always opting to badmouth everyone he left there instead. He tells her she should be grateful to live in Seoul where the people only say bad things when you’re not around, because they’re blatant about that kind of thing where he’s from. He tells her that the Looks she gets here in Seoul are soft and easy on her. Busanians are too honest.

She doesn’t say it out loud, but sometimes Yuri thinks Seoulites aren’t honest enough. Her mother always tells her not to care too much about what other people think, but she feels like it’d be a lot easier if people just insulted her to her face so she doesn’t have to worry about what they say about her behind the scenes. Is it worse than the insults she comes up with in her head? Is it kinder? Is it pitying? Do they see her and then think nothing at all?

She wishes she didn’t even have to think about these things at all. Sometimes she envies her brothers, because they get treated better than her. Her parents tell her it’s because they look more Korean, but Yuri has no idea what that could possibly mean. She thinks her classmates are distinguishable when she looks at them. They have different shaped eyes and faces and skin tones. Her differences are a smidge more obvious, to be sure, but she doesn’t see why it should be something that affects her social life as much as it does.

But at the end of the day, it does, so Yuri does her best to cause as little problems as possible. She doesn’t meet with her brothers to walk home together until they’re three blocks away from school so that people don’t know they’re related and start picking on them too. 

Her older brother isn’t happy about it, but he understands. He wishes she didn’t have to, but knows that it’s better this way. He apologizes to her for the ‘colorist, xenophobic, homogeneous society’ they live in. Yuri doesn’t understand what any of those words mean, but she nods along anyway.

Daniel, her poor angel of a little brother, doesn’t get it at all. He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with her. Her heart breaks a little when he says that he wishes his noona would wave back at him when they pass each other on campus. 

Yuri’s mother comforts her with the thought that if she lived in the Philippines, where she’s from, she’d be considered very beautiful. But she doesn't live in Busan or the Philippines. She lives in Seoul. So, being the weird-looking kid it is.

Thankfully, she’s not entirely isolated. Even if her parents aren’t kind to each other, they’re kind to her and she knows they love her very much. And even if the kids from the music program she’s in with her older brother make a couple of insensitive comments from time to time, but for the most part, they’re nice as long as she does her part and sings her songs—that’s what brings her the most joy.

Despite everything that goes on in her life, it’s music that constantly remains her greatest love and comfort. Her older brother, Kyunghee, must feel the same way, because he’s always cooped up in her room with her and making music when their parents are arguing again and he doesn’t want to deal with it since his bedroom is right next to theirs. 

If there’s anything positive to be gleaned from it, it’s that they have something to bond over that isn’t the yelling that comes from upstairs. Over time, he’s even taught her a thing or two about music. She can’t compose anything on the piano like he can, but he’s taught her the basics of beat-making on some cracked version of GarageBand he pirated from the internet.

For whatever reason, he’s been really into hip-hop lately, so that’s what they’ve been making beats for. She can’t blame him, though. As a VIP, she’s kind of in the same boat. The fiery bars and pure charisma of the Kwon Jiyong was too much for a music-obsessed teenage girl to resist. It’s a little more personal for Kyunghee, though. 

Shin Donghyuk is her brother’s best friend and a self-proclaimed underground rapper, despite only beginning to rap around a year ago. He’s not terrible or anything—the dude’s actually gained a good following since he began uploading his freestyles to Hiphopplaya and Jungle Radio. 

Still, Yuri finds it a little bit suspicious that he started rapping around the same time her brother started producing. She can’t help but wonder if Kyunghee began producing to help Donghyuk’s budding rap career or if Donghyuk started rapping because Kyunghee started making beats he could rap over. It’s like the chicken or the egg question.

It’s none of her business, she supposes, but Yuri’s still curious about their dynamic. All she knows is that, around school, she never sees one without the other, and that they’re always cooped up in the music room. She never approaches them because her older brother always looks like he’s in his own little world when he’s with Donghyuk and interrupting would make her feel like an interloper.

Her brother doesn’t seem to mind introducing them now, though. Today is apparently a big day for Donghyuk, because he’s going to be performing at a rap showcase at some club in Hongdae. Yuri thinks that it’s weird for them to be inviting fourteen year-old boys to clubs, but her brother assures her that the whole event is for rapping, so there’ll be no drinks around. So she guesses it’s okay.

“I’m, uh, not sure, though,” he admits to her on the subway. “But don’t drink anything that anyone gives you. Don’t drink anything at all, actually. But don’t be uncool about it, either. Just—don’t embarrass me in front of Donghyuk, okay?”

“Okay,” Yuri says, rolling her eyes. Donghyuk is a figure she’s only seen in passing, but hasn’t actually met. Despite his friendship with her brother, he’s never been at their house, but when Yuri remembers the way her parents’ arguments resound through the walls, she can’t blame her brother for never inviting him over. She also can’t blame him for escaping to his friend’s house after school, sometimes. His escape is usually her bedroom, but sometimes it’s too loud even in there.

Hongdae Station, Seoul, South Korea.

Yuri clings to her brother’s arm as they get off the subway station, and she can practically feel him vibrating in excitement to see his friend. Donghyuk is at the venue early like all the other performers, so they’re meeting him there. She makes it clear that she doesn’t get what all the fuss is about.

“It’ll be exciting to see him in action,” is all her brother says. “You’ve only heard recordings, no? And you’ll get to hear all the other underground rappers that use our free beats and stuff, too. So look on the bright side! Even if their rapping sucks balls, it’ll be funny. Plus, it’ll be a good networking opportunity if you ever wanna go into entertainment. If they look important, just pretend to like it.” She snorts at his insincerity.

“How business-savvy of you.”

Yuri has to squint when they finally get into the club. It’s dark and it’s loud, as one would expect, so she holds tighter onto her brother’s arm in the hopes that she won’t get lost. It was so bright outside, but the atmosphere inside makes it feel like it’s nighttime. If it weren’t for all the yelling, she would probably think of it as calming.

“Kyunghee! Over here!” she hears a voice call over the crowd, and turns to see a figure that she can vaguely make out as Donghyuk. Before she knows it, she’s being dragged all the way across the room towards the stage, muttering awkward apologies every time she bumps into someone.

Yuri’s dizzy once her brother makes a stop, tuning out the niceties and conversation he has with Donghyuk to gather her bearings. She doesn’t snap back into reality until she feels her older brother clap a hand down onto her shoulder.

“This is my sister,” he says, and she waves awkwardly. “I’ve been teaching her beats and stuff, too. I think we used one of hers on your last mixtape…? Her beats are under GLASS. You better get good, because I think she’s been learning more than you have.” 

So her brother is helping Donghyuk learn how to produce, too. Makes her feel a little less special.

“Luna, right?” he asks, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Weird name. Sounds like a video game character.” He puts his fist out. She’s flushing at his bluntness, but awkwardly bumps it, anyway. She’s trying to be polite and not embarrass her brother, after all.

“Oh, that’s what my brother and mom call me,” she explains, “Everyone at school calls me Yuri.”

“Makes sense. I just used Luna since that’s what Kyungie calls you,” he explains, and Yuri feels a little surge of pride at the fact that her brother talks about her to his friends. “Want me to call you Yuri, then? You probably get called that more by your friends and stuff, right?”

“I don’t really have friends,” she admits, wincing as soon as the words leave her mouth, because honestly, that sounded a lot less sad in her head. Donghyuk doesn’t seem to notice though, because he’s practically howling with laughter.

“Fuck, Yuri, you’re funny!” he laughs, clapping a hand down a little too forcefully on one of her delicate shoulders. She winces again at that, but nervously laughs along like it’s a joke and not just… her life. She also accepts Donghyuk’s bestowment of the name Yuri. It’s just a name, but maybe it’s his way of telling her that he’s her friend now. Which is kinda nice.

He seems nice enough, but he’s too brash and loud and blunt for Yuri to comprehend how he could possibly be best friends with someone as soft-spoken as her Kyunghee. Still, she’s glad her brother has a good friend, even if her current interactions with Donghyuk are kinda weird.

“So,” Kyunghee interrupts, having had enough of the awkward atmosphere. “You said in your text they wanted help with sound check?” Seems a little trashy to make teenage boys help out with this kind of thing, Yuri thinks.

“Yeah,” Donghyuk confirms. “They can only have three people in the sound booth, including the guy who’s already there. C’mon!” Kyunghee looks all too giddy as Donghyuk grabs his arm and drags him away, probably to the aforementioned sound booth. In the moment, he looks too carefree to be her worrywart of a brother.

“You can handle yourself, yeah?” he yells out to her as he’s being dragged away. He doesn’t wait for her to answer before he’s out of earshot.

“Totally,” Yuri says sarcastically to herself.

Alone, she finds herself weaving through the crowd again. Without her brother around, she finds herself easily slipping in between everybody thanks to her small stature. She takes in soft lights and harsh voices as she makes her way towards the seats by the entrance, which seems a bit more void of people. Everything around her is too stimulating right now. Soft lights. Harsh voices. 

Yuri’s almost there when she bumps into a tall male figure. She looks up to see sharp eyes narrow at her, so threatening and intense that she almost jumps back. His street clothes help up the intimidation factor, along with the dark beanie concealing his jet black hair.

“Sorry,” she mutters. He doesn’t reply, gently shoving her out of the way before continuing to trudge along his weird, bendy path. She watches as the big guy bumps into a few other people before coming to a realization.

“Hey!” she calls out to him, and he whips around to narrow his eyes at her (again), which she now realizes is more of a squint than a glare. “Are you looking for your glasses?”

His eyes soften, gaze immediately turning away from her in embarrassment.

“N-No!” he sputters, but the way he says it makes it very obvious he’s lying. She really doesn’t know why she’s attempting to help this guy out in the first place. Either she feels bad, or she just wants to be right. 

Probably the latter, if she’s being honest.

“If you admit it, I’ll help you find them,” she says.

“...I lost my glasses.”

They’re probably a sight to see, the tall boy squinting down at the ground with Yuri practically glued to his hip, finding a much easier time seeing with her contacts and closer proximity to the ground.

“How’d you lose them anyway?” she asks, and he sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck.

“It was in my back pocket,” he explains. “To be honest, I didn’t even realize I’d dropped them until I reached for them and they weren’t there.”

“Why weren’t you, like, actually wearing them?” she asks, matter-of-factly.

“I’m rapping soon,” he says like that’s an explanation. “It won’t help my image.” 

“Oh, ugh.” 

“What?” he says.

“Are all you rap dudes like this?” she asks, “Just swallow your pride and don’t hurt your eyeballs trying to look cool. If your rapping is good enough, it doesn’t matter if you look like a loser or not.”

“Gee, thanks,” he says sarcastically.

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that,” she defends herself. “You don’t look like a loser and there’s nothing wrong with glasses. I think the only person who seems to have a problem with it is you.”

“Name one successful rapper with glasses,” he retorts.

“Swings,” she says immediately.

“Shit,” he mutters, and she laughs at him. “Oh, fuck off.”

“Hey, be nice!” she huffs. “You’re a complete stranger and I’m helping you find your glasses. For all I know, you could be leading me outside to kidnap and murder me. Heck, I don’t even know your name!” He rolls his eyes as she points this out, but answers, anyway.

“Namjoon,” he says.

“What?”

“That’s my name. Namjoon,” he repeats, stretching out a hand. When Yuri takes a look at it, she realizes just how big he is. His hand would absolutely dwarf hers. 

“Yuri,” she says formally. When she steps forward to shake his hand, she feels her foot clink against something and hears the light sound of plastic sliding across the floor. “Oh, your glasses!” 

The lenses are thick, she notes as she picks them up. Damn, no wonder he was bumping into everyone. His vision must suck. Other than a few scratches on the lenses, they seem fairly undamaged. Even so, she gently blows a warm breath onto the lenses and wipes them off with the sleeves of her hoodie. Less gently, she pulls Namjoon down by the strings of his hoodie so that they’re at eye-level with one another before putting his glasses back on his face. Even in the low light, she can see the embarrassed flush across his cheeks.

“Thanks for the help,” he says sheepishly, quickly straightening up and pulling away. “Gotta go now. It’s showtime.” And then he’s off.

“Who the hell says ‘it’s showtime’ out loud?!” she yells after him, not ready to give this guy a break just yet. 

“Who the hell wears their jacket like that?!” he turns around to yell back. Involuntarily, she pulls on the side of the puffy down jacket she leaves hanging off of her body. When she flounders for a response, he just laughs at her, a deep, loud thing that booms over the chatter of the crowd. She bets the sound could fill the whole room if it were empty.

She looks away, embarrassed, when she notices people are seating themselves and quickly plops herself down on the nearest seat. Well, shit. It really is showtime.

A lot of the rappers are vaguely familiar to her, and she’s struck with the realization that names she’d only seen online now have actual physical forms. They’re obviously passionate about what they’re doing, and now she kind of feels bad for how her and her brother used to roast whoever they deemed ‘the worst ones’ from behind their computer screen.

When Donghyuk steps up, the host introduces him as Suprema—yes, like the hype beast brand. She shivers as the Douche Chills overtake her body. Despite his overwhelming teenage boy-ness, he’s pretty okay, or at the very least, better than she expected. But the bar was pretty low, if she’s being honest. Kyunghee probably thinks the world of his skills, though.

The only other familiar face she sees is introduced as Runch Randa, and she has to stop herself from cooing at how cute she finds the stage name. She also has to stop herself from rolling her eyes all the way into the back of her head when she realizes he’s not wearing his fucking glasses.

As much as she wants to clown on him, she finds herself speechless when Namjoon steps up to the mic and spits straight fire, his narrowed eyes making him look all the more intense. While he’s not quite as aggressive as some of the other rappers she’s heard, his lyrics are riddled with wordplay and double-meanings that it takes her a couple of seconds to wrap her head around.

She’s snapped out of her reverie when she hears the crowd cheering, prompting her to clap along. Thoughts of Runch Randa dissipate as the next act steps up. She doesn’t quite recognize the name or face, so she lets herself get lost in the music without predisposition. When she recognizes one of her beats being used as background music, her heart beats a little bit faster.

Yuri knows that posting them online for free means lots of people will use them, but it’s another thing to actually see it in action. The amount of amateur rappers, good and bad, using her music and appreciating what she does for them makes her feel all warm and fuzzy. Huh. Maybe that’s why Kyunghee enjoys helping out Donghyuk with his rapping endeavors so much.

By the time the show is over, she’s warm and happy, but also very drained of energy. She has half a mind to head backstage to search for her brother, but the thought of swimming through the moving crowd makes her nauseous, so she heads outside instead. Kyunghee will find her eventually.

It’s dark when Donghyuk and Kyunghee finally come outside, laughing over ‘some newbie’s shitty freestyle’ with their arms slung over the other’s shoulders. They talk animatedly about what they liked and hated on the walk to the station and in the subway. Yuri nods along to the conversation despite having been tuned out for a while now. The only thing in her head is music. In the moment, something about that feels very important.

Epiphany #02: Music is something Lim Yuri wants to do for a long time. Maybe forever.

January 12, 2008. Starbucks, Seoul, South Korea.

Ever since that show in Hongdae, Yuri’s been more in love with music than ever. Naturally, she’s thrust herself into it with a passion, making new instrumentals when she’s at home and working on improving her vocals with the kids from her music program when she isn’t. Other than that, though, she hasn’t exactly left her house. Not until today, at least.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only one meeting new people at that Hongdae show—Donghyuk and Kyunghee had done a good amount of networking backstage, exchanging numbers and starting a group chat with a bunch of other underground rappers. In time, they decided that the others were cool enough to work on music with in-person. So here they are, Yuri and Kyunghee spending their last Saturday of winter break waiting for everyone else to arrive.

Suddenly, Donghyuk enters with a very familiar figure in tow.

Namjoon grimaces as soon as he makes eye contact with her, and Yuri has to bite her lip to hold in her laughter, because damn, this dude really sucks at keeping a straight face. Neither action goes unnoticed, it seems, because Donghyuk sweeps his gaze back and forth between the two.

“You two know each other?” he asks, and Yuri nods, a devilish grin on her face. Namjoon’s expression of anguish only deepens when Donghyuk adds, “Oh, nice. Is he cool?”

Namjoon sends a nervous glance her way, looking like a kid who’s just been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. It endears her, for whatever reason, so Yuri spares his pride.

“Yeah,” she giggles, unable to hold her laughter in anymore, “Yeah, Namjoon’s cool.” His body relaxes at that, but the tips of his ears still glow bright red.

“Hey,” Kyunghee says, nudging her arm. “He’s our age. Don’t go talking to him casually, now. Show some respect.” She rolls her eyes, but obliges.

“Namjoon-oppa,” she corrects herself, and he smiles, looking a bit too satisfied at that. Maybe it’s because now he has something to hold over her head, too. It lowkey makes her want to smack him. Before she can say anything, though, two slightly less familiar figures walk through the door,

They introduce themselves as Hunchul and Ikje, or by stupid-teenage-boy-rap-name, Iron and i11evn, respectively. Yuri finds both monikers considerably cooler than Suprema and Runch Randa, if she was being honest. The guys themselves, though, are a lot less cool.

Ikje is twenty, which is like, okay, weird. It makes sense when Donghyuk cracks a joke about him being a little drunk when they exchanged contact information. What kind of twenty year-old was keen on hanging out with a bunch of fourteen year-old boys and one of the boy’s twelve year-old kid sister? He’s a little immature, to be sure, but passionate about rapping. And that’s what everyone is there for, so she lets it slide purely because he doesn’t seem like a creeper.

Despite being the same age as her brother and everyone else, Hunchul does seem like a creeper.

“You’re Glass, right?” he asks, shaking her hand. “I’m Iron. Our names kind of match, right?” 

“Um, yeah, I guess,” she says, forcing a laugh. Awkwardly, she continues, “My big brother chose the name for me… because my name is Yuri… and that sounds like glass.”

“Big brother?” he asks. “Kyunghee is my age, you know. How old does that make you?” Her cringe reflex nearly kicks in, infinitely uncomfortable at this point.

“Thirteen next month,” she answers honestly, and fights the urge to cringe when he pats her head. As touch-starved as she is, she’s not this desperate.

“Ha, cute,” he laughs. She doesn’t think he’s very funny. She’s always prided herself on her instincts, and something about Hunchul just feels off.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to deal with him for long. The group all converses for a while, but soon enough, they’ve all kind of splintered off into pairs for conversation. As expected, Kyunghee’s first pick for this is Donghyuk. Naturally, she gravitates towards Namjoon.

“Hey, glasses guy,” she says, and he flushes.

“Oh God, please don’t let that become a thing,” he says, wrinkling his nose.

“Sorry,” she says, even though she really isn’t.

“It’s fine,” he says, scratching nervously at his face. “I actually wanted to thank you again for that. I lose things a lot and my mom probably would’ve killed me if I lost my glasses.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” she assures him, but the gratitude still has her glowing.

“I should probably thank you for producing, too,” he continues, “When your brother said you were a 96-liner in our group chat, I was so surprised, because I recognized your account name since I’d used your beats before, since they’re free and all. You’re really talented.”

“Oh,” Yuri says softly, covering her flushed cheeks and wide smile with her hands. Her glee is soon apparent when she fails to hide a giggle, preening under his praises. Her voice goes small when she finally replies, ducking her head. “Well. You’re very welcome.” He laughs at her sudden bashfulness.

Conversation continues smoothly, even if it’s mostly about music. The atmosphere emanating from their little group in the cafe is warm and lively. Even when the barista has to come over to tell the group to simmer down, she can’t find it in herself to be upset.

She hasn’t had many friends in her life, but the way things are going, she feels like she will soon. She makes a mental note to add it to the list when she gets home.

Epiphany #03: Lim Yuri is capable of making friends, after all.

January 16, 2008. Lim Household, Seoul, South Korea.

It’s been two days since school started back up, but it already makes Yuri want to claw her eyes out. She ended up just bullshitting that English assignment and spitting out some shit about how she had an epiphany about platypi being the only mammals to lay eggs or something.

But for whatever reason, she’s still adding onto that epiphany list. Kyunghee catches her adding onto it one night and says that she probably likes it because it gives her life more structure. She tells him it’s not that deep, bro. 

But maybe it is. Who knows. She adds it to the Epiphany List, just to be safe.

Epiphany #04: I like things that give my life structure.

Her mind jumps to the very turbulent, very unstructured family life they have at home, and thinks that maybe he might be onto something. Thankfully, it’s not that bad today, but her parents are still not speaking to one another and shooting each other passive-aggressive stares from across the table, thinking their kids won’t notice. If she had the balls, she’d tell them how obvious they are.

Unfortunately, her younger brother Daniel does have the balls. When he opens his mouth to speak, their mother must sense the impending bullshit, and quickly interrupts.

“How was school?” she asks, turning to Kyunghee—easily the most diplomatic of the three of them.

“It was good,” he says, “Classes were good. Friends were good.”

“Any friends in particular? Of the romantic variety?” she teases, poking him a couple of times in the side. Their mama loved gossip too much. Everytime they brought it up, she’d say I’m Filipino, I can’t help it! Gossiping is in my blood! Yuri and Daniel roll their eyes fondly at her antics—usually, Kyunghee would be doing the same.

But he doesn’t.

“Uh, n-no,” he stutters. Kyunghee always stutters when he’s lying. There’s a beat of silence before Kyunghee answers. Their mother looks entirely too pleased with the fact that after what has to be the thousandth time of asking about this topic, her hunch is finally right.

“Subtle, hyung,” Daniel snorts. “Way to be fuckin’ obvious.” Their father reaches over and pulls at his ear.

“Don’t curse, Jaeyeol,” he says. Daniel shrinks in his seat.

“Sorry.”

The rest of dinner is tense, their dad having successfully killed the vibe. They wash their dishes and clear the table in awkward silence, every action done hurriedly so they can get the fuck out of there as fast as possible. Afterwards, everyone else files back into their respective rooms, but Yuri follows her older brother instead. Fer and her older brother are both in middle school, so she’s curious if she knows whoever her mom was teasing him about. Always too nosy for her own good, she’s determined to find out. Maybe it’s that Filipino blood her mother was talking about.

Kyunghee doesn’t think much of it when she follows him back into his room. Maybe it was because of the age difference, but he was always closer to her than he was to Daniel, just like Yuri was always closer to Daniel than he was to Kyunghee. Her coming into his room to talk about stuff—especially music, these days—was commonplace. He pays no mind as she flops onto his bed, making his way over to sit at his desk and turn on his computer instead.

“Soooo,” Yuri says obnoxiously, just as a little sister should. “Who is she?”

She was expecting Kyunghee to roll his eyes at her like he always did, not quite spilling the deets but dropping little hints and hoping she’d dig enough to get it. But there’s none of that—instead, he presses his lips into a thin line and shakes his head.

“Drop it, Yuri,” he says through clenched teeth, turning around in his seat to glare at her. His tone is so sharp that she can’t help but to curl in on herself. He must see the fear in her response, because his expression immediately softens.

“Look, I’m sorry, just—just forget about it. It’s nothing, Yuri, okay?” he sighs. Normally, she wouldn’t ask her older brother to do anything he didn’t want to, but Kyunghee isn’t normally this secretive with her. Naturally, she’s more than a little curious. Butting into other people’s business was her favorite pastime, after all.

“I won’t judge, I promise,” she assures him, “Everyone likes someone for a reason, you know? I promise I won’t laugh or anything, even if she’s a total weirdo—”

“It’s not a she, Yuri.” He’s turned back to his screen by now, but even just from his profile Yuri can see the flush of mortification on his face.

“Wait, that means…” she trails off and everything clicks. “Oh, oppa.”

“This isn’t something you can help me with,” he cuts her off tersely. “This isn’t something you can understand. Just—just go to your room, Yuri.” He sounds like their dad. It makes her feel small.

Regardless, she nods, plodding along back to her room with a heavy heart. When she gets there, she sits at her desk and opens up her journal, adding another bullet to her epiphany journal.

Epiphany #05: Sometimes you won’t be able to understand what someone is going through, no matter how hard you try. No matter how hard you want to.

January 18, 2008. DGBD Club, Hongdae, South Korea.

It’s moments like these that make Yuri remember that, oh yeah, these rap clubs are still clubs.

Ikje is the only one of legal drinking age, so he’s the only one downing alcohol on the opposite side of the club. Hunchul is sat right there next to him in the corner of the bar, handing the bartender more and more money so he can witness his friend get absolutely shitfaced. Unlike Ikje, he is not of legal drinking age, but that will not deter him from seeking entertainment in any way he can… even at his friend’s expense. Meanwhile, Kyunghee and Donghyuk mess around in soundcheck and Namjoon looks to sit as far away from Ikje and Hunchul as he can get. 

It’s kind of endearing, she thinks, the way Namjoon is so straight-laced about these things, despite his ‘hard’ underground persona. Outside of it, he comes off as kind of a stickler. Maybe a little dweeby, but it’s why she trusts him more than the others, so she pays it little mind when he situates himself next to her at the opposite side of the club so he’s not alone.

Poor Namjoon, her low self-esteem weeps for him. Having to kick it with Kyunghee’s annoying kid sister.

He’s nice enough, so she supposes he’s good at humoring her. Kyunghee would kill him if he was anything but polite to her. That, or the more likely possibility that he’s being nice because this is a business transaction, which makes sense, too. She’s just here to be the producer to his rapper, the Kyunghee to his Donghyuk… minus the lifelong friendship part.

She doesn’t know why talking to him is so daunting when they spoke extensively in the group chat—which she is very proud to say she made her brother add her to last Sunday—so it’s not like they’re strangers. She didn’t love the vibes in there, but they never did anything to make her feel like she was on the outskirts of it all. That’s something she’s imposed on herself. She just didn’t know what to talk about in the chat if it didn’t have to do with music.

She tries not to think much of it, distracting herself with the notebook in her lap. In it, she takes little notes on all the different rappers and indie artists she sees performing throughout the night. On top of her writing it in English, she doubts anyone would understand the references and shorthand she uses, so she makes little move to cover it when Namjoon leans over and squints at it.

“Nosy,” she chides playfully.

“Sorry.” He pulls away with a flush. “What are you writing about?”

“Oh. It’s just like, an analysis, kind of? Of everyone’s different rapping styles,” she explains. “Like flow and lyricism and genre and stuff like that. It’s kind of just for me. I produce better if I know who I’m producing for and how they sound, y’know?” He nods.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he says. Leaning over to peek at it again, he adds, “Your handwriting is nice, by the way. I didn’t know you were so good at English.”

“Yeah, my brother and I are both fluent,” she says, looking down at her hands. “We speak it at home. But like, I’m no good with words, so I’d be no good for songwriting help or whatever. I don’t know. It’s dumb. I’m dumb. I’m fluent in two languages, but can’t speak like… in general. That’s why I’m a beatmaker and not a songwriter.” 

Oh God, she rambled.

Namjoon is staring right at her when she looks back up. She forces herself not to look away—that would be suspicious, right?—despite the probing, unreadable expression on his face making her cheeks heat in embarrassment. Conversations between them rarely strayed into personal territory, especially when their whole relationship was about music. In her head, she repeats the phrase business transaction over and over again like a mantra. She can’t help but feel like she’s crossed a boundary.

“If it helps any,” he offers with a grin, “My mom’s trying to get me to learn English by making me watch Friends. I can’t make out what your notes say quite yet, but I like to think I’m getting pretty good.” Yuri laughs at that, surprised but relieved.

“You strike me as a Chandler,” she says. “Maybe a Ross.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m very offended by that second accusation,” he says, but he’s still smiling. She giggles into her hands.

“Sorry,” she says, despite not being very apologetic at all. “If you ever need help with English stuff, you know. I’m here.”

She doesn’t know why she says that, but it feels right. It feels like something a friend would say.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he says, “I’d like that.” That feels like something a friend would say, too.

They very coincidentally spend the rest of the night talking about Friends. They both agree that Ross is a douchebag and that Rachel deserves better. They talk and talk until it’s closing time and the club owner starts yelling at them to just say goodnight and go! Before kicking them out. Everyone stumbles out of the door bursting with laughter, with even shitfaced Ikje giggling drunkenly as he hangs off of Kyunghee’s shoulder.

They’re still laughing even as they run through the streets in a frantic attempt to catch the last subway. Yuri can’t help but think that it feels just like those teenage coming-of-age movies, the ones where they go to high school parties with red Solo cups in their hands. It almost feels like a dream, a fantasy that she never thought she’d get to have.

Namjoon lets her hold his hand so he can drag her along as they run, seeing as her short legs don’t allow her to keep up with the others. She wonders if it’s the cold night air or the way that he links their fingers together that make her cheeks flush.

Epiphany #06: Lim Yuri has a friend.

March 15, 2008. PC Bang, Hongdae, South Korea.

Okay, so maybe Kim Namjoon is not necessarily a friend, per se.

Not to say that he’s unfriendly, or that he doesn’t want to be her friend, but friendship is the kind of thing that develops slowly, right? They’d only just started hanging out recently, after all, and the age and gender difference was bound to make forming a meaningful friendship just a little bit harder.

At this point, though, he’s definitely more than a business partner. Maybe not a friend just yet, but more than just an acquaintance. He feels like a classmate, a peer. Her answering his texts asking for help with English homework has definitely helped with that, as of late. Conversations have continued to stay outside of personal territory, especially when the others were around. 

While Friday nights were reserved for rap performances at DGBD Club, Saturdays were for going out somewhere that they could work on music together or just chilling and hanging out together. They rarely ever met up on Sundays, which were reserved for Yuri helping her mom at her job of doing vocal training with the weird musical theater kids. For Kyunghee and Namjoon, Sundays were cram school days, and for the others… she didn’t really care how the others spent their Sundays, if she was being honest.

As of today, they’ve decided to migrate to a PC bang since there’s a distinct lack of baristas yelling at them to shut up. Plus, if they want to take a break to play MapleStory, they won’t have to worry about the club or the cafe having a shitty bandwidth. 

They’ve got a two-person-per-computer policy, and Yuri finds herself immediately paired off with Namjoon. She doesn’t feel like pairing off with her brother—his energy has been kind of awkward around her since his confession—and she doesn’t like the rest of the guys’ vibes, so Namjoon it is.

They’re stuck away from the others, the only available computers in the PC bang spread far away from each other. She notices he’s talking to her a bit more freely. Self-consciously, she wonders if it’s because he’s embarrassed to talk to her around their friends or if he’s intimidated by her older brother breathing down his neck.

“Do you not like them?” Namjoon asks, out of the blue.

“Huh?” she says, blinking a couple of times in surprise. “Who? What? What are you talking about?”

“You know,” he says. “The others. Hunchul and Donghyuk and Ikje-hyung and them.”

“I don’t dislike anyone,” Yuri huffs, maybe too defensively. “I just—I don’t know. I mean, I don’t like them, but it’s not like I dislike them.”

“Why though?” he asks. “Did they do something weird?”

“No, nothing like that,” she assures him. After a long while of thinking, she admits, “I just don’t like their energy, I guess. I get weird vibes from them, you know?” Namjoon scoffs.

“You shouldn’t pass that kind of judgement without reason,” he says. “You’re smart. Use your brain.”

“I’m not really that smart,” she laughs nervously, ducking her head to hide the flush on her cheeks. “I only use my brain, like, thirty percent of the time.” He laughs at that. For whatever reason, it feels like victory.

“C’mon, don’t say that,” he says reassuringly, “You come up with like, five new beats a week.”

“That’s different!” she argues. “Producing is more… subjective? Than words and lyrics and stuff, I mean. So you can just go with your gut to see if it sounds good or not. You don’t have to think too hard like you do when you write lyrics. Putting stuff into words is hard. Feeling my way through stuff has worked for me ‘til now, so I’m gonna keep doing that.” He shakes his head at that, but relents.

“You do you, I guess,” he says. “But I think I’d choose going using my brain over my gut any day.”

“Did you use your brain when you were bumping into everyone at the club ‘cause you lost your glasses? Or were you using your gut?” she asks cheekily. “It kinda seemed like you were using neither, if we’re being honest.” He rolls his eyes before leaning over to flick her on the forehead.

“Shut up,” he laughs, a flush on his cheeks. When he turns back to the computer screen, she can see his profile from where she’s standing next to their desk. She notices something she hadn’t before, and it makes her realize she’s never quite seen him grin so long. She lets out a little gasp of delight.

“What?” he says.

“Nothing.” 

He furrows his brows at her response, but doesn’t press it any further, either. When she gets home, she gleefully adds her newfound discovery to her list.

Epiphany #07: Kim Namjoon has dimples.

It’s an unexpectedly cute addition to the hard rap persona she’s always envisioned him with.

May 17, 2008. Lim Household, Seoul, South Korea.

“Holy shit, this place is nice,” Donghyuk whistles as he takes off his shoes.

Yuri is not exactly thrilled about Kyunghee inviting everyone over to their house.

Chilling together at PC bangs and the DGBD Club was one thing, but inviting these people into her home was… not ideal. She didn’t exactly love being vulnerable around other people, so she considered her house a safe space to do just that. Having guests over makes her feel like she’s in school again—and just like when she’s in school, she would prefer to be blissfully ignored.

Thankfully, she is. The boys are all switching between fucking around on her and her brother’s shared MIDI keyboard and kicking each other’s asses on Kyunghee’s copy of Super Smash Bros. Brawl for Wii. She also gets to stuff her face, so she supposes it’s not all that bad. Their mom had made way too much food, impossibly happy that Kyunghee was finally bringing friends home. It was unprecedented for him. Sadly, she could guess why this was the first time for that, seeing as he had very conveniently picked the day that their dad was gone on a business trip.

She quietly sits in the corner and eats her tteokbokki, careful not to spill any of the sauce on her notebook as she writes in it. She nearly chokes when Namjoon makes his way towards her, because she can’t quite wrap her head around it. It makes her a little tingly when he chooses to spend time around her even though he really doesn’t have to.

Now that she thinks about it, they’ve been doing that a lot lately. Hanging out alone, she means. Texting each other one-on-one rather than in the group chat, heading out to Hongdae separate from Kyunghee and Donghyuk, going out to PC bangs and Starbucks without everyone else. In the beginning, it was just so they could tutor each other, as they’d made the deal that while she helped him with his English, he’d help her with the horror that was linear equations.

Yuri can’t fathom how he can find English so hard but algebra so easy. It’s very Namjoon-like, she thinks. He’s incredible at very niche things, but he can’t do things that most people can do. She’d never want to humiliate him by asking, but Kyunghee heard from Donghyuk that Namjoon can’t tie his shoelaces correctly. And honestly? She believes it. He strikes her as a scatterbrained genius.

She thinks about Namjoon a lot lately, for whatever reason. But not in a bad way. If anything, she regards even his worst quirks fondly, like how he duct tapes his bag because he keeps accidentally breaking the strap off or those times (yes, there were multiple) he made them run back to the PC bang while they were walking back to the subway station because he suddenly remembered that he left his phone there. Despite all this, for whatever reason, she’s been feeling exceptionally shy around him lately. 

Is this what it’s like having a friend? She doesn’t know if it’s just the fluttery excitement of a new friendship, but it makes her face go hot. It only gets worse when he leans over her where she’s sitting at the table, his chest lightly pressed against the back of her seat.

“What are you writing in there?” he asks.

“Just stuff I’ve noticed,” she says casually. “Nothing interesting.”

“I see my name there, though,” he says, and she immediately clamps her hand over the page. Her response makes him chuckle.

“I thought you couldn’t read English,” she says, cheeks flushed.

“I’ve improved. Thanks for that, by the way,” he teases. That bastard. “What is that? What did you write about me?”

“It’s the same thing I was working on in Hongdae,” she admits. “The music analysis notebook.”

“And you wrote about me?” he asks.

“Yes?” she says, like it’s obvious. “You’re pretty prominent, dude.” 

“Interesting,” he says, looking at her expectantly.

“What?”

“Are you gonna tell me what it says?” he asks. “You wrote about me, so it’s only fair, right?”

“I guess,” she says, flushing.

“What’s this say?” he asks, pointing to a sentence that follows his name.

“Oh, that just… that just describes how like, you do this thing, sometimes,” she laughs nervously. “You do this thing when you rap, where you like… puncture the ends of syllables very aggressively. It’s just funny because that’s how English sounds, but like, you’re doing it in Korean, and… I don’t know. It stands out. I just like when you do it.”

“Oh.” He makes a face.

“Hey, I don’t mean—it’s unique. Because it sounds English, but it’s not?” she explains, but it feels like she’s digging herself into a deeper and deeper hole. So she continues, “Uh, I don’t know how to explain it. It probably just stands out to me because I speak English? But it’s still good. It’s really cool, actually. It’ll be good for when you audition for a label or whatever you wanna do.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I…” he trails off, shaking his head. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to audition or do anything like that. To be honest, I was just planning on doing something behind the scenes, you know?”

“What? Why?” she asks. 

“I don’t know,” he sighs. “I don’t think my parents really like the idea of me becoming a rapper as like, a career. I always figured I’d go to college for sound engineering and become a producer or something like that. Technically, they can still call me an engineer. They can’t get mad then, right?” It’s delivered jokingly, but Yuri can feel the underlying truth in it, sad and wistful.

It’s moments like this that make Yuri realize how easy she has it. No matter how rocky her family life has gotten, her parents had always supported her and Kyunghee’s pursuits.

“That’s shitty,” she huffs, lying her cheek against the smooth wood of the table. “What a waste. You’re one of the better rappers I’ve heard, to be honest. Not becoming a rapper would be, like, a disservice to all of South Korea.”

“Don’t say that,” he says sheepishly, but he can’t stop smiling.

“I’m telling the truth,” she says, and she is. “I mean, most of the dudes who want to drop out and become SoundCloud rappers are doomed, but you have actual talent. You could pull it off, though. You could be the chosen one.”  Namjoon laughs, ducking his head to hide his flushed cheeks.

“You’re too much,” he chuckles, shaking his head.

When he leaves to go to the bathroom, she flips her journal to the back where her epiphany list is.

Epiphany #08: Sometimes hardworking, talented people don’t get what they deserve.

What a bummer.

August 15, 2008. Hongdae Station, Seoul, South Korea.

There’s no single observation that makes it all fall into place—it hits her suddenly, like whiplash, as she’s walking home from the subway station with her brother, like all the little moments she thought nothing of before had suddenly come together to form this big amalgamation of questionable. 

Hands lingering on top of each other for an extra long second during keyboard lessons. Glances for just a bit too long when he isn't looking. The constant stream of yeses, even when it’s for something she can’t possibly fathom anyone wanting to agree to.

Of course, Donghyuk. Sure, Donghyuk. Okay, Donghyuk. Donghyuk. Always. Anything.

“Oppa, do you like Donghyuk?”

Kyunghee stumbles, tripping over the question like it’s a brick placed before his feet.

“Huh? What? Huh?” he sputters, too hurried to be casual. “Of course I do? Of course I do. Like him I mean. He’s my friend. I like him.”

“Oh… you know what I mean,” she says, refusing to push the obvious out into the open. Usually, she’d just say what’s on her mind like she always did, but being wrong about this kind of thing would be mortifying for them both. When he flushes and quiets, she knows that she’s not wrong.

“Don’t tell him,” he chokes out, voice cracking he’s going to cry. He puts a hand over his face so she can’t see, so maybe he really is. “Please don’t tell him.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” she rushes over to hug him, letting him lean down half a foot so he can drop his head to cry into her shoulder.

“I can’t just—we’re mixed kids living in Korea, Yuri, things suck for us as it is! I’m not interested in making life harder for myself!” he tells her. Everything comes out rushed, like he’s presenting a PowerPoint and he has like ten slides left to get through but only two minutes left.

“Hey, hey, hey—” she tries, but he doesn’t let her speak.

“And nothing’s gonna come out of it, anyway,” he continues. “He’s the most heterosexual man alive, his—his fucking rap name is Supreme Boi, for fuck’s sake. Like the fucking hype beast brand. And—and have you heard him speak? He sounds like the guys that called me a fag in middle school.”

“You don’t think he’s like that, do you?” she says, eyes sad and droopy as she rubs comforting circles into his back. His scoffs.

“We high-fived and he said ‘no homo’ right afterwards,” he says, like it’s an answer. 

Well. It basically is.

“Why would you like a person like that?” she asks, appalled. Her brother is a good person who deserves nice things, so she cannot fathom why he would subject himself to this kind of torture. 

“I don't know. I don’t even know how or when or why it happened. I just…” he trails off. Then sighs. “I guess you don’t know ‘til you know.” 

To be honest, Yuri has no idea what the fuck he’s trying to say.

“Sounds dumb,” is all she can offer.

“It is dumb,” her brother agrees. “And confusing and controlling for no reason. You just fall into it, I guess. And you barely ever get anything in return for it.”

Yuri’s nose wrinkles at the senselessness of it all, but she supposes it’s something she’d have to learn eventually. When they get home that night, she takes note of it in her journal.

Epiphany #09: Love is dumb. Cost outweighs benefit. Do not attempt.

September 15, 2008. Kim Household, Seoul, South Korea.

Yuri and Namjoon tutor each other on Saturdays.

However, today is Chuseok, so the club and the Starbucks and the PC bang and all their usual hangout spots are all closed. Meanwhile, Yuri’s dad is home and he invited all his siblings over for the holiday, including Aunt Skin Lightening Cream from Busan. None of them are even from Seoul, so she’s not even sure why they’re visiting when you’re supposed to visit your hometown on Chuseok. 

Fuck Busan, her dad says.

Understandably, she doesn’t want any of her friends coming over to the house, especially when she knows her dad is going to use it as an excuse to get even drunker than usual. Namjoon’s place it is, then.

Yuri’s never been to his house. She’s never really gone over to a friend’s house before period, so when she tells her mom about it, she’s… overenthusiastic, to say the least. Yuri spends a good half-hour reminding her mom that, no, she does not have a boyfriend and she is not going over to his house for Chuseok. They are just friends. Regardless, her mom does her up pretty for the occasion, fitting her into a baby blue hanbok and doing her hair and makeup all pretty.

A suited businessman on the subway even tells her that she looks pretty. She thanks him, and begins to wonder if she should maybe wear makeup more often. For once, she does feel pretty, just a little bit out of her element. But not out of place, with so many of the passengers in similar for attire for Chuseok. The feeling only intensifies when she steps off the subway and catches sight of Namjoon, who they agreed would wait there for her so he could walk her to his house, since she got lost easily. He’s in hanbok, too, but that doesn’t stop his eyes from widening when he sees her.

“What?” she says.

“Nothing,” he replies. “You look pretty.”

“Oh. Um, thank you.” She takes his arm as they walk back to his place. It feels natural at this point.

“Is everyone fine with me coming over on Chuseok?” she asks nervously. “Don’t you have anything planned? Am I intruding? Oh God, Namjoon, what if your mom doesn’t like me?” 

“You’re overthinking this. I don’t see why they’d be mad when we’re just studying together,” he laughs. “Seriously, it’s not like we’re dating or anything.” For some reason, the statement makes her heart beat a little faster.

“R-Right.”

When they get to his house, his parents welcome Yuri with open arms. They tease Namjoon profusely about her, to which they both have to repeatedly remind them that they are study buddies and are most definitely not dating. Yuri feels like she wouldn’t mind dating Namjoon, though.

No clue where that thought came from. She files that one away to deal with later, but it doesn’t stop her quickened heartbeat from kicking it into fucking overdrive. It only worsens when he invites her upstairs to his room, and she can practically feel her legs wobbling as she goes up the steps.

It’s so very Namjoon in a way she can’t describe. Little Kaws figures line his desk, textbooks lay scattered on the floor, and a blue-hooded Ryan plushie lies tucked in his bed like it’s a living person. It’s an instant reminder of how soft he is, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. She grabs the stuffed toy coos at it lovingly.

“That’s uh—that’s my sister’s,” he says. She ignores the obvious lie.

“Baby,” she says lovingly to the toy, squeezing its tummy. “Hey Namjoon, can I lay in your bed?”

“Uh.” Namjoon coughs awkwardly, turning away with flushed cheeks. “Do whatever you want.”

She flops down onto it rather unceremoniously, turning over onto her stomach with little care as to whether or not she smudges her makeup or wrinkles her hanbok.

“Smells like you,” she says without thinking.

“What?” he laughs, swiveling around in his desk chair to grin at her, a teasing smile on his face. With her having just said that, his embarrassment over a plushie pales in comparison. Now she’s the one scrambling for an excuse. She sucks at those, so she just powers on and tells the truth.

“The other guys use like, obnoxious amounts of cologne and Axe body spray,” she explains. Embarrassedly burrowing her face into the sheets, she says, “You just smell like boy.” He chuckles.

“I am just a boy.”

She lifts her face from the sheets to look up at him, hands folded nervously in his lap. In the big desk chair, he looks impossibly small compared to the tree of a man she knows him to be. Hip hop albums and posters line the shelves and the wall behind his desk, and it makes him look an awful lot like a dreamer.

Maybe Kim Namjoon and Lim Yuri are the same, she thinks. Two kids with dreams bigger than they will ever be.

October 25, 2008. Hongdae Station, Seoul, South Korea.

She’s quiet today, Namjoon thinks.

It’s not like she’s being icy or anything. If anything, she’s being really objective and professional about everything—no teasing, no joking. It’s so bad she says she doesn’t want to meet at the PC bang because it’s too loud, and she doesn’t want to meet at her house because it’s loud there, too. He doesn’t get what she’s implying with the latter statement, but thinks it better not to pry.

Decidedly, they’re meeting at the same Starbucks they reunited in that week after she helped him find his glasses in that club in Hongdae. Somehow, it makes the distance between them feel impossibly wider. Maybe if things were this way when they first met, he wouldn’t mind, but it’s all so extremely un-Yuri-like that it makes his skin crawl.

Now that he thinks about it, she didn’t respond to his texts last night, either. Usually, she’d leap the opportunity to talk about her school life or the obnoxious musical theater kids, and he’d give her advice on how to deal with it like a good oppa. He doesn’t really mind, though. It makes him feel like he’s taking care of her. Makes him feel needed.

Which is probably why seeing her like this sucks so much. She’s obviously upset, but she won’t even talk to him about it, and she tells him everything that doesn’t involve the forbidden topic of her home life. Even that she’s let up on lately, letting little inklings of it spill out here and there. Her dad drinks a lot. Her mother’s a bit protective. Her little brother is her baby, despite the demonic energy he exudes. Basic things.

He feels like he should ask about it, but also struggles with the possibility that he might be prying into something she’s not comfortable talking about. He spends so much time wrestling with these thoughts that he ends up saying nothing the whole time, all the way up until closing and the barista kicks them out. Yuri’s working especially hard today, he notices, like she’s trying to distract herself from something. Uneasily, he continues to wonder what it is.

His discomfort only grows as he walks her down to the subway station and she still has nothing to say. On the days she veered into the weirdest, most off-topic territory, he reached over the table to flick her forehead and tell her to focus on the music. But even then, she’d find a way to squeeze a couple of personal anecdotes into the conversation, and then elaborate on the walk to the subway since they really didn’t need to talk about music stuff anymore.

Sometimes, it’d be the other way around, and he’d vent about his life problems on the walk back while she listened. But today, whatever problems he can scrounge around for in his mind feel miniscule compared to whatever she’s going through, if her sudden change of character is any indication. She even refused his regular offer of an extra canned coffee for the road.

She doesn’t look particularly upset, though? Just neutral. It’s definitely an unwelcome change of pace from her usual free-spirited smiliness, but she doesn’t seem to be doing too badly, so he just keeps his mouth shut. 

At least until halfway through their walk, when she trips over nothing and tumbles to the ground.

It’s not a particularly terrible fall, and she pushes herself back up onto her hands and knees without trouble. But then she just. Stays like that. Doesn’t get up off the ground. Gently, he taps her shoulder.

“Hey, c’mon. It’s dirty down there,” he chides softly, like he’s talking to a little kid. She doesn’t budge, so he places a comforting hand on the small of her back. “Are you—are you okay?”

It’s crazy how quickly those three words alone can break the proverbial dam, because suddenly she’s crying. No wailing or sobbing, just quiet tears with the occasional hiccup, which really is all the more heartbreaking.

“No,” she whimpers through her tears. “I’m not. I’m not okay.”

“Hey, hey,” he says softly, pulling her up off the ground and holding her tight against his chest. She’s pliant like a ragdoll, like she’ll fall over if he lets go, so he squeezes her tighter. Her arms make their way around his waist, resting just above his hips. 

The weight of the world comes tumbling out her lips, and he just holds her and listens. 

Everything makes her older brother mad these days. Her little brother, Daniel, the scary one, cries a lot. Her mom cries a lot. Her dad drinks a lot. Drinks too much. Her parents are divorcing and her mom is moving back to the Philippines without them.

It’s just so much, she tells him. It’s so much, Namjoon. She apologizes over and over, because I didn’t mean to break down, not like this, not in front of you. Not in front of anyone. 

He frowns as he comes to the realization that she never talks about her problems or her feelings or insecurities, but he spills his to her and she coaxes his out of him all the time. He understands not wanting to share this with everyone, since it’s technically Kyunghee’s personal business, too. He’s glad that she’s able to confide in him like this. It just sucks that it took a breakdown for her to do so.

“I’m sorry,” she says, over and over and over. “I didn’t mean to dump all this on you. You have enough to deal with, you know?”

“Hey, don’t worry about me,” he says, burying his nose into her hair. “Just because my life sucks doesn’t mean yours can’t, either. Just don’t think about me and my shit, okay? There’s nothing wrong with talking about yourself for once.”

“That’s not—I can’t just—I can’t just ignore you. It’s impossible to ignore you,” she sniffles into his chest. Squeezes him tighter. “You’re my friend, you know? I care about you.” 

Namjoon breathes out a shaky sigh at that, goosebumps rising on his skin. His heart swells at her words, despite the circumstances, and all he can do is wish there was more he could do for her. There’s nothing to do but squeeze her tighter.

It’s a while until she pulls away to wipe her tears. He reaches down and smooths out her hair.

“I’m sorry for crying.”

“Don’t be.”

“Thanks, then.”

“Mm-hm.”

The rest of the walk to the station is peaceful and familiar. She picks the conversation back up, opting to ignore her breakdown and talking about literally anything else, instead. She talks about how her little brother has his first crush and how her older brother wants to be drum major next year and how the weird musical theater kids are, unsurprisingly, still off the shits. All the while, she grasps his hand in hers, fingers interlocked. She gives his hand the occasional squeeze, and he squeezes back without fail.

They part once they’re across the street from the station, subway and he finds himself incredibly endeared by the way she doesn’t want to seem to let go. 

“Goodnight, Yuri,” he says, reluctantly pulling his hand from hers.

“Goodnight, Namjoon-oppa,” she sighs, letting her fingertips linger over his for a minute He watches as she turns to leave, but suddenly something hits him.

“Hey, one more thing,” he calls out to her, and tries not to laugh at how fast her head whips around at the sound of his voice.

“Yeah?” she calls back.

“It’s, uh,” he says, “It’s impossible to ignore you, too.” 

It’s just a simple repeat of her own words, but he hopes she knows that he means them, because he wants them to make her feel the way he did when she said them—needed. Important. A little bit fluttery.

Her face crumples then, so sudden that he almost regrets saying it. But then she’s practically hurtling towards him, smacking against his chest with a force that quite literally knocks the wind out of him. She’s crying again, and this time it is the loud sobbing kind. He shushes her softly. Presses a kiss onto the top of her head. He rarely initiates affection, but in the moment it just feels right. 

They hold each other like that for who knows how long. He takes hold of her hand as she calms down, the two staring down at their interlocked fingers all the while.

She misses the subway in her reverie.

“Just say goodnight and go next time,” she jokes, laughing tearily into his chest. “Stupid Namjoon, making me late. Making me cry.” There’s no threat to it, though, because she squeezes him tighter, nuzzles her face deeper into his scent, practically burrowing into him.

“I’m sorry,” he laughs softly.

They spend another thirty minutes waiting for the next subway to come in, two kids holding each other under the Seoul streetlights.

April 11, 2009. Kim Household, Ilsan, South Korea.

Yuri sprints to Namjoon’s house from the subway station at a speed unimaginable.

When Namjoon opens up the door, she’s panting and sweaty. He opens his mouth to question her about it, but before he can say a word, she’s shoving a piece of paper in his hands.

“The final match,” she recites the flyer word for word. Despite how out of breath she is, she still manages to smile brightly and sound excited. “Big Deal Show. August 23. Be there or be square.”

“The final match,” he repeats. His eyes bore holes into the paper even as he walks inside, Yuri following closely behind him. 

“You should do it, Namjoon,” she says. “Everyone’s waiting on you. You’re it, Namjoon.”

“Don’t say that,” he says, shaking his head.

“I’m serious,” she huffs. “They gave it to Kyunghee to give to me to give to you. Donghyuk didn’t get one. They want you.”

Namjoon looks up from the flyer to see her face, bright and wide-eyed and hopeful. He wonders where all those stars in her eyes came from. They can’t possibly be for him.

“Okay,” he says, grinning like a fool.

“Okay,” she says back.

“But there’s one more thing I should deal with before I go into this competition,” he admits. “I’ve been thinking of changing my stage name.” He’s been thinking about it for a while, really, even reserving the username on a throwaway account so nobody takes it, but he still brings it up to gauge her reaction just in case it really isn’t a good idea. Yuri’s always had a good feel for things.

“Aw, I like Runch Randa,” she says with a pout, but continues, “I guess I’m open to change. What are you planning on changing it to?”

“I was just thinking about shortening it to Randa. No big deal,” he says, throwing in that pun for good measure. He’s trying to be nonchalant about it, throwing a shrug in there and all that. But then she does That Thing where she folds her arms over her chest and looks up at him with those big ol’ doe eyes.

“Is this because Fetion called you ‘lunch boy’ in that diss track?”

“What? No. What? No,” he says twice. And forcefully. It’s laughable, really, and he commends Yuri for not letting even a chuckle out because he knows he’d lose it.

“Oh, Namjoon,” she sighs sweetly, and the way she says his name makes it sound like it could belong to anybody but him. It makes his heart fall into his ass. “Don’t look too much into what other people say about you. Rappers like to diss just because, you know? That’s just hip-hop culture.”

“It’s not because of that,” he says, and she frowns like she thinks he’s lying, which is only half-true. “Really. I just wanna go for a more mature sound, you know? Randa just sounds more respectable than Runch Randa, that’s all.”

“Nothing to do with Fetion?”

“Nope.” He even pops the ‘P’ for emphasis. Maybe he’s trying a little hard.

“I don’t know if I believe you, but I won’t press it,” she says. As expected, she sees right through him, but he counts the outcome as a win.

“Good,” he says. “I just wanted your opinion on it.” She gasps dramatically.

“Wanted the opinion of little ol’ me?”

“Of course,” he says, “You’re important to me.” He says it like it’s nothing, even though that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Epiphany #10: Knowing you’re important to someone feels really, really nice.

August 23, 2009. Rolling Hall, Seoul, South Korea.

It’s a really big day for Kim Namjoon.

At the very least, it’s a big enough day that he’s arrived to the venue two hours early, just to be safe. He leans against the wall as he scrolls and scrolls and scrolls again over the lyrics he has written in the notes of his phone.

There’s a sense of finality to it. Logically, he tries to convince himself that isn’t true, but it’s already taken him this long to convince his mom that his interest in rap was more than a waste of time. He just needs this one shot, this one thing, to make her believe in him. That’s all he wants. All he needs. In the meantime, Yuri’s there to support and believe in him. His own cute little personal cheerleader.

Yuri just oozes cuteness, he thinks. If you asked the honest Namjoon, he’d tell you that he just wants to pick her up and put her in his pocket to take home. But the Namjoon in the real world is not only a teenage boy, but an aspiring rapper with a reputation to maintain. Masculinity is a prison. That doesn’t stop him from letting her hold his hand as she helps him practice his lyrics, all the way up until he goes on stage to perform. She even kisses his knuckles for good luck, like they’re in a fairytale. It twists his heart in a way that only pushes him to succeed. He has to do well. He has to win--to prove it to his family, to have something to celebrate with his friends, to make sure that all of Yuri’s producing and support hasn’t gone to waste with him.

But he fucks up his only chance.

He forgets a bunch of the lyrics he’d planned out and ends up having to pull some lyrical miracle spiritual individual shit out of his ass. After it’s all over, his heart sinks at the way that Yuri lights up when she sees him, even after all the performers and judges and audience members have dispersed. She looks at him like he didn’t just completely fuck up, like he didn’t just lose and give one of the most embarrassing performances in his life. Before he knows it, he’s crying.

His hands fly over his eyes in the hopes that she doesn’t see. He feels fucking pathetic.

“Hey, hey, hey!” she says, her soft voice panicked. Cautiously, her hands take hold of his wrists and, for fear of hurting her with his resistance, he goes limp and lets himself be handled. When she places her cool, tiny hands over his eyes, he can’t help but to breathe a sigh of relief. Though he can’t see her, he can feel her dropping her head into the crook of his neck, breath tickling his ear with gentle shushes.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she says softly. “I’m here. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I messed up,” he said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Namjoon,” she sighs. “You did great.”

“I messed up,” he repeats. “I was the worst one there.”

“Don’t say that,” she chides, moving her hands from over his eyes to thread through his hair. “Are you deaf? Just because you didn’t win out of all these people doesn’t mean you did badly at all. There was only one ranking, you know? One of the judges asked for your contact info, right?”

“Just one. Sleepy.”

“I love Sleepy. That has to count for something, right?”

“He probably just felt bad.”

“Oh, Namjoon.” 

She squeezes him as tight as she can. What else can she do? Meanwhile, he reaches out, feeling around since he can’t exactly see, until his hand finds purchase on the back of her neck. Oh God, she’s so small. 

He can faintly feel the ridges of her spine as hand slides lower to find its place on the small of her back. He could easily squish her if he tried, so he feels a tingly sort of pleasure at the trust she’s given him as she settles deeper into his embrace. God, he feels so bad. He hates that she’s almost always the one comforting him and picking up the pieces when all he wants to do is protect her from everything ever. If he weren’t so worried about hurting her, he’d squeeze her tight and probably never let go.

Yuri squeezes back just as tightly. She doesn’t understand why he thinks he messed up so bad. In her eyes, he did everything perfectly. Sleepy wouldn’t have asked for his contact information if he wasn’t any good, right? How could he have been anything but? Didn’t he hear himself?

She wishes he could just see himself the way she sees him.

To make matters worse, he seems to have lost his student ID somewhere at some point throughout the day. Yuri spends a good half hour helping him look for it in the dim lights of the club, and it fills her with a little sense of nostalgia for the night they first met. Unfortunately, they find nothing this time around. Seeing as he needs it to get on the subway, he calls his mom to pick him up instead. It’s just the cherry on top for how pathetic he’s feeling today.

Namjoon dries his tears and regains his composure so that his mom doesn’t ask about it when she shows up. When she arrives, she thanks Yuri for looking after her son and offers her a ride home, not taking no for an answer even as Yuri assures her that it’s okay and she doesn’t want to intrude. With the emotional draining he’s had today, she’d rather Namjoon get home as fast as possible, but she’s terrible at coming up with lies and excuses.

“Her dad is on his way to pick her up,” he lies for her, knowing damn well she’s taking the subway. His mother accepts this, thanking her again before waving her off. Once she’s out of eyeshot, she mouths a thank you to Namjoon. He forces a half-smile in reply.

Yuri plops down on one of the seats to sulk. Something stops her from leaving for the subway right away, and in retrospect, she likes to believe it was fate. It was probably just laziness.

In the midst of her musing and sulking, she notices a very familiar figure—from the judge’s table no less—emerge from the bathroom. Sleepy from Untouchable, she recognizes him as. She knows because her and her brothers have Quiet Storm on loop in their house, so he’s got to have some sway in the contestants they pass on. She’d worry about making a good first impression, but she was a friend before she was a fan. If it meant risking looking like a crazy person, then so be it.

“You!” she yells from across the room.

“Ah! Me!” he yells back in surprise.

“I need to talk to you!” she yells. He gulps as the tiny girl approaches him like he’s prey, not daring to take her eyes off of him. 

Please don’t be a sasaeng, he prays.

He steels himself as she draws closer, relaxing as he takes in her measly, barely-five-foot stature. Yeah, he could handle himself if things went bad. He could punt a child. He sighs gratefully when he realizes he will have to do no such thing.

“H-Hey,” she says nervously, voice immediately going small when she’s in front of him. “You were a judge, right? For the contest?”

“Yes,” he replies, trying his damnedest not to sound intimidated by this little girl.

“I need your contact info.”

“Excuse me?”

“I—look,” she says, sounding more and more desperate by the minute. “I’m not asking for your number or anything, like—just give me your work email or something!”

“Uh—”

“My friend performed today,” she scrambles to explain. “In case some stuff happens to his work, I want you to have it. Or get your hands on it? So you have material to hear if you call back. Um, here, just take this.” She scribbles her email into her journal and rips the paper out before handing it to him. He squints his eyes at it.

“Beats by Glass,” he reads her email address.

“Yes.”

“I know you,” he says, “a lot of the trainees at TS use your beats for their audition tapes.”

“It’s ‘cause they’re free,” she explains. He looks surprised at that.

“Admirable.”

“Thank you,” she says, “I produced his stuff, too, um—yeah. Just let me send you my friend’s work.”

“Don’t you have your own music to focus on? Wouldn’t you rather promote yourself?” he asks. She shakes her head.

“He deserves this more than anyone.” Sleepy’s eyes soften at that.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

October 17, 2009. Lim Household, Seoul, South Korea.

As a surprise to even herself, Sleepy emails Yuri back. She sends him Namjoon’s music that she has saved. He emails back a thumbs up emoji. Ugh.

Unfortunately, just as Yuri had anticipated, Namjoon found himself in a bad headspace and immediately deleted all of his content off the internet in an especially powerful bout of self-loathing.

He could get a callback, she keeps reminding him, but he just won’t believe it—so he gives up before he even tries. He psychs himself out of things before he even gets a chance. His mom says that’s why he hasn’t started driving yet.

Despite this, Namjoon and Yuri still find themselves working together, even as Namjoon assures her that he is not interested in swallowing his pride and crawling back to the entertainment industry. For now, he’s just a songwriter that she’s teaching the basics of her beatmaking programs. She relents to letting him believe that, but she also takes the fact that he’s having anything to do with music at all as a glimmer of hope that he’ll return to his promising rap career.

At this very moment, Namjoon is not writing lyrics, and a good dozen pages of his notebook now half-filled with content he’s apparently dissatisfied with. For now, Yuri’s relented to letting him absentmindedly scribble on her left arm with a pen while she works her producer magic on GarageBand. She’s allowed it on the simple condition that he doesn’t draw any dicks or write any curse words on his arm because her mom might see.

“No promises.”

“Try it, bitch.”

Fortunately, he does not scribble any dicks nor fucks. It’s all just mindless doodles, like stars and swirls and hearts and that one pointy S everyone drew in elementary school. The only one she actually pays any mind to is a little crescent moon on her inner wrist.

“Aw, that suits you,” she says.

“How so?” he asks.

Yuri doesn’t know how to tell Namjoon that he reminds her of the moon, bright and calm and watchful and constant and underappreciated, without embarrassing herself. So she doesn’t.

“You’re… I don’t know,” she says. “It just does.”

“What were you gonna say?” he presses, raising a brow. As expected, he can see right through her.

“Nothing. There was no end to that sentence,” she says.

“Okay.” From his tone, it’s obvious that he doesn’t believe her, but he doesn’t press the issue any further. He was a lot better than the others at making sure not to stray into uncomfortable territory.

They usually sit together in comfortable silence, which she’s noticed has since become a staple of their relationship. She doesn’t mind, though. There are no expectations between them. It’s a nice change of pace from the constant expectations present in both their day-to-day lives. His silence today, though, seems a little tense. She doesn’t know how she can tell, but she can feel it. Maybe their hearts are connected, she thinks.

“Are you okay?” she asks, hoping she’s not wrong.

“I don’t know,” he admits with a sigh. “I don’t really like anything I’ve written at all. I feel like I’ve reached my limit, you know? Maybe I’m just out of good ideas. Maybe I never had any in the first place. Maybe I was never meant for this at all.”

She shoves at his arm, pouting up at him once she’s fully distracted him from his absentminded scribbling. There’s a wobbly line running down the side of her arm now, but she can’t bring herself to care very much.

“What?” he asks, annoyed.

“C’mon, Namjoon,” she huffs, ignoring the way he scoffs and rolls his eyes at her. “You’re really gonna let one bump in the road throw you off momentum for good?”

“That ‘one bump in the road’ was my last shot, Yuri,” he says hopelessly. “It’s over for me.”

“But you’re still trying,” she says. “I like to believe that means something. C’mon, let’s see what you’ve got.” She reaches over him to grab his notebook, flipping it open to a random set of lyrics. They’re close enough now to where Namjoon barely bats an eye at this—he is, both literally and figuratively, an open book to her.

Smoothing it out, she reads, my heart is like a detective who is the criminal’s son. Even as I know who the criminal is, I can’t catch him. She blinks a couple of times in surprise. Reads it again.

“You wrote this?”

“Yeah,” he admits sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “Look, that one is really old. It’s from before we even met, I think. I know it’s kinda corny—”

“It’s good,” she cuts him off.

“Yeah?” he says, surprised. She just nods in response, even though there’s so much more that she wants to say.

She wants to tell him that everything he says leaves her in awe. That he’s the smartest boy she’s ever met. When she writes her lyrics, it’s always about something she’s seen or done or felt—but the lyrics he comes up with are written like stories, like there’s an entire universe in his mind. His mind is filled to the brim with different worlds and swirling galaxies, and hers does nothing but walk along a path already laid down by the cosmos.

But she doesn’t.

“It’s good,” she repeats instead.

She doesn’t know why it’s so hard to say what she feels. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t even know how to word how she feels.

Especially with Namjoon, as of late.

Epiphany #12: Talking about feelings with Namjoon is hard now. Like getting over a great big hill.

March 07, 2010. Starbucks, Ilsan, South Korea.

Against all odds, Namjoon gets a callback. 

It comes directly from a man known as Hitman Bang, the CEO of Big Hit Entertainment—according to Namjoon, he’s a very successful songwriter (that’s where the Hitman part is from… how cheesy) who’s worked with big wigs like JYP before. Yuri hasn’t heard of the guy or his company. Probably some poor, weird indie label, from the looks of it. She’s not exactly sure how credible they are, but when the man sings Namjoon’s praises and offers him a contract, she pushes her doubts aside.

As soon as the phone call ends, Namjoon envelopes Yuri in a hug, warm and all-encompassing and very, very Namjoon-like. He feels like he’s on top of the world, like all the dreams he felt he’d thrown away as only dreams were tumbling back into the realm of possibility. It’s like all his wishes are coming true—in everything, there’s only one problem.

Namjoon has yet to tell his mom that he’s been rapping.

Of course she knows that he does it, but it’s just a little hobby in her eyes. She still believes the lie—well, half-truth, he prefers to say—that he’s going to PC bangs all the time, and not rap clubs in Hongdae. She’s found a couple of his lyrics tucked into the pages of his textbooks, but he bullshits excuses about how they’re extra credit poetry for his literature class. He’s been lying about it for years now, but now that he’s going to get signed for rapping, now’s as good a time as any.

He’s nervous. It’s one thing to confess that you’ve been lying for three years, but it’s another to beg your mom to sign a contract that’ll help you pursue your rap dream immediately afterwards.

Yuri was just there for emotional support. They’re walking to his house back from Starbucks because really, he could only gather the courage to do this when hyped up on overpriced espresso. They walk back with Yuri’s hand linked in his, and despite him never being the best with physical affection, it feels natural, supportive. Loving, even.

“You got this,” she says, squeezing his hand in hers.

“I got this,” he repeats, even if he sounds like he doesn’t quite believe what he’s saying.

“Just be honest about how you feel and everything’s gonna be fine,” she assures him. He doesn’t quite believe her (feeling things out was never his forte) but he supposes he’ll just have to take her advice on this one. He wishes she could just be there next to him, but having her randomly sat into their family discussion would just be weird. Instead, the plan is for her to sit in that same Starbucks they were just at until she gets the text that he is 100% okay.

“If it goes really bad, I am four blocks away!” she reminds him, putting up four fingers for emphasis. “Hopefully your dad won’t threaten to kill you, but you know. Just in case.” Namjoon grimaces, but nods. He wonders what her home life must be like for her to make comments like that.

“Okay,” he says.

Yuri’s heart falls into her ass as she squeezes Namjoon’s hands one last time before letting him go back into his house. Once the door shuts behind him, she practically sprints back to Starbucks, not wanting to stay close and accidentally hear yelling or some other part of the argument. She heard enough of that kinda stuff at home.

She can barely sit still at Starbucks, fidgeting anxiously as she thinks about what her friend must be going through right now. She brought her laptop and her notebook in her messenger bag so she could at least take advantage of the free Wi-Fi to work on stuff, but her mind always strays back to him. She periodically checks on her phone for any new notifications (her group chat with the boys has been long since muted) and heaves her shoulders in disappointment every time there is none. It’s been nearly four hours and he has yet to text her anything. 

Suddenly, the blip of a text notification on her phone catches her attention.

[18:27] Namjoon: look outside

Yuri whips around to see Namjoon grinning behind the glass walls of the building. Carelessly shoving all her stuff back in her bag, she practically flies through the door to greet him.

She practically crashes against his chest, but it’s okay because he picks her up and spins her around like he’s just returned from war. He’s so bright and giggly and infectious that Yuri finds herself laughing, too. She almost feels like it’s a little romantic, but quickly kicks that thought away, as always.

“They said yes,” he says once he sets her down, like he’s still surprised, even now. “My parents said yes. They’re gonna sign the contract with me. I’m gonna be a rapper, Yuri.”

“Oh my God.” She’s in disbelief too, because that’d be tough news for any parent to handle. But Namjoon is the most articulate person she knows. If anyone could break that kind of news, it would be him. “How’d you win ‘em over? What’d you say?” Namjoon laughs nervously.

“It’s kind of—it’s so lame,” he says, embarrassed, but Yuri nods for him to go on. “My grades are 5,000th place in the country, right?”

“Nerd.”

“Shut up. Anyways,” he continues, “The part I think I really got them with was—basically, I asked my mom whether she wanted to have a son who was a first-place rapper or a 5,000th-place student.”

Yuri bursts into laughter.

“Cheesy!” she yells. “Namjoon, that’s so—that’s so cringey.”

“It worked, didn’t it?!” he defends himself.

“It was gonna work no matter what,” she laughs. He shakes his head.

“I think I just got lucky,” he says. She doesn’t believe it.

Kim Namjoon could take over the world, if he wanted to.

March 06, 2010. Ilsan Lake Park, Ilsan, South Korea.

It’s a Saturday night, and Namjoon and Yuri hold hands as they walk through Ilsan Lake Park.

They do this a lot, now, and it makes her feel a little tingly. It’s just walking and talking, she knows, but it’s different. Whenever they’d go over to each other’s houses to study or work on music together, she’d psych herself out of any sense of excitement with the reminder that, as close as they may seem, they were still both getting things out of it. But this isn’t like that.

Neither of them are obligated to spend any time with each other outside of helping one another, but they do anyway. Namjoon ends up talking most of the time, but it’s okay. She’s no good with words anyway, and she likes his voice and the things that he has to say. Sometimes the skip rocks, even though neither of them are any good at it, before giggling at their failures.

Are these dates? she sometimes wonders. They feel an awful lot like dates. She doesn’t know how that makes her feel, but she feels it in the pit of her stomach. Yuri has always been upfront about the things she wants, but with Namjoon, she isn’t quite sure what she wants. She thinks she just wants to be around him.

“I’ve been discussing contract stuff with Hitman Bang,” he says casually, “and he’s thinking about changing it from an underground rap-based group to an idol boy group.”

Yuri freezes in her tracks beneath the streetlights.

“What?” she asks, making a face. “Seriously? You can’t be serious. You’re joking, right?”

“Why the hell did you say it like that?” he bristles. “Jesus. You’d think I told you I was planning on dropping out of school and becoming a stripper.”

“I’m just trying to warn you. Idol life is hard,” she says. “Netizens will have a field day with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I—fuck, I didn’t mean it like that, okay?” she huffs. “It’s just that—you saw how people treated Nacseo when he signed to an entertainment label. I like idol music, too, but not everyone around us is open to that kinda change, you know? They’re gonna eat you alive, Namjoon,”

“I don’t care about their opinions,” he says, and she scoffs.

“You’ve never not cared about what people think of you,” she shoots back, her mind jumping to every time he’s thrown away a good set of song lyrics because he thought it’d make him sound lame or corny. Or God forbid, soft. “Why would you want to leave? Everyone in the underground scene already loves you. They’re gonna call you a traitor, just like they did to Nacseo.”

“Do you think I’m a traitor, Yuri?” he asks. When she responds with a beat of silence, he looks more betrayed than she could ever feel. “Yuri.”

“Why would you want to leave?” she repeats. “Look, I’m just saying—why would the company suddenly switch gears like that? Don’t you think that’s suspicious? What if they’re scamming you into debt? What if they’re trying to force you into a slave contract or something?!”

“God, why are you suddenly so against this? You sound like my parents right now!” he yells. “You know, of all people, I would’ve thought you’d be the one to get it.”

“What—of course I get it!” she huffs. “I handed you the flyer, I watched you perform, I waited for you when you told your family about it! There’s just no good reason to leave the underground scene to become an idol. The risks are just too much, Namjoon!”

“Well, I—no, you know what? I don’t need to justify myself to you!” he yells, despite proceeding to do just that. “I’m not just gonna stay in the underground because—because you want me to!”

“I just—why would you want to be an idol anyway?” she shoots back, scrambling for some bullshit reason that doesn’t sound as desperate as please don’t leave me. “They’re gonna control what you eat and who you see and everything! Everything’s gonna be different, Namjoon! We won’t be able to go to DGBD and we won’t be able to go out together like this anymore because they’ll throw you into a scandal over some stupid rumors and they’ll never let me see you again.”

“Wait, so—so this isn’t about me, right?” he says. He scoffs, shaking his head, “Yeah, this isn’t about me at all! This has nothing to do with what you think is going to affect me and everything to do with what’s going to affect you! This is all about you!”

“Shut up!” she yells back. “It’s not like that!”

“Really? Because I’m not so sure,” he says, and immediately regrets it when his doubt makes her look at him like she’s been struck. But he just keeps going. He can’t stop himself, no matter how much his conscience screams at him to. “If you were actually thinking about me, you’d be listening to what I have to say, you’d be taking everything that’s happened up until now into account—but you’re not! Why is that? Thinking with your gut instead of your brain again?”

“You’re—you’re talking too fast! Slow down!” she’s crying now, but it doesn’t register for either of them. She puts her hands over her ears, like she’s a little kid listening to her parents fight again. “Just shut up for one second, okay?! Shut up! Shut up! You know I’m no good with words!”

“I thought you were more mature than this!” he yells. “Fuck, you’re just—you really are just a little kid, you know? Seriously, you want me to throw away an opportunity for my family to let me do what I actually wanna do? So I can stay with you and the rest of the losers—”

They both freeze, mouths open in shock as the weight of his words set in.

“Wait, I—I didn’t mean that, I—” he’s stuttering, trying to find the words to fix things, even though he knows in his heart that he can’t take it back. “You’re—you’re not a loser—” He takes a step toward her, arms outstretched with the promise of comfort. 

But she refuses it, taking a step back into the streetlight. She looks so small, hands curled into her chest, so far away from him.

The world hits him all at once. They’re just two teenagers yelling in the Ilsan streets at night. She bows her head down, but he can still see the tears in her eyes, glistening under the street lamps.

“You should go home,” she says softly.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“I’ll walk with you.” 

“Okay.” 

It’s an awkward walk back, to say the least. He’s still mad, and he knows she’s still mad, so he makes no move to touch her as she walks next to him. She doesn’t reach out to grasp his hand like she always does, instead awkwardly linking her pinkies together, like she doesn’t know where her hands belong if not in his.

“We’re here,” she says, stopping at the sidewalk across the street from his house—like she’s not welcome, like she wasn’t lying on his bedroom floor just weeks ago. Weird how fast things can change.

“Hey,” he says, feeling a sense of relief when she looks up at him instead of ignoring him. He almost doesn’t want to break eye contact, like if he does he’ll never have another chance. Still, he reaches into his bag, fishing through the energy drinks and coffee cans at the bottom he’d bought earlier that day, originally purchased with the express purpose of keeping himself awake during training. But this is ok, too. He settles on giving her a Baba Vanilla Delight, because he knows she likes sweet things.

“Drink this,” he says as he hands it to her. “So you don’t fall asleep on the subway. There are weirdos on the train, you know. If any weird old guys try talking to you, call your brother, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, popping open the metal tab and drinking. After a couple of gulps, there’s silence, before Yuri leans forward and gently presses her head against his chest. Reflexively, he places a hand atop her head. No patting or stroking. Just a gentle, awkward, weight.

“You should go inside,” she says.

“Yeah,” he agrees, but neither of them make the move to part. He doesn’t know why. He’s still mad at her and she’s still mad at him. But it just feels right. When it happens, she’s the one to initiate it, breaking away from his touch to sip at the coffee in her hands again.

“Bye,” she says.

“Bye,” he says back, even though his gut tells him not to. 

There’s a sense of finality to it, somehow.

Namjoon turns around sharply so he doesn’t have to think about it, but makes the mistake of looking over his shoulder one last time. She has yet to budge, sipping at her coffee and watching to make sure he gets into his house safely, even though she’s still upset. 

I care, I care, her gaze says. He thinks he’ll know that forever.

But he doesn’t know that she starts crying as soon as he steps inside his house, or that she cries the whole way home, or that when she’s on the subway, she takes her journal out of her messenger bag and plops it in her lap to scribble a pathetic, self-aware message onto her epiphany list.

Epiphany #13: Lim Yuri will never stop caring about Kim Namjoon. Never ever ever. Not in a million years.

What a coincidence that it lands on such an unlucky number.

April 07, 2010. Big Hit Entertainment Building, Seoul, South Korea.

Lim Yuri makes her way to the Big Hit Entertainment building with nothing but a coffee in her hand and conviction in her heart. She’s nervous for a multitude of reasons.

For one, she’s about to interrogate an old music mogul when she’s a fifteen year-old girl that barely scrapes five foot nothing. No matter what bullshit her father has put the family through, she still stands firm with his advice that old men in the music industry are bad news. 

Secondly, she’s not supposed to be here. Nobody knows she took the subway here—she told her brother she was taking the subway to a friend’s house and really, it’s his fault for believing her lie. He should know damn well that she doesn’t have friends.

Thirdly, the coffee enhances every nervous feeling beating inside of her body. She feels like her heart is going to beat out of her chest. Regardless, she’s come too far to turn back now. Yuri raps her knuckles on the Big Hit building’s front door three times before ringing the doorbell.

As she waits, she can’t help but notice that the building is pretty small, especially for an entertainment company. Kinda shabby, if she’s being honest. Man, this place is poor poor. She wonders if they can even afford trainees.

When a staff member opens the door, she tells them she wants to talk to the CEO. He narrows his eyes suspiciously at the little girl and tells her to schedule a meeting ahead of time. When she hands him ₩20000, his eyes widen and he directs her to sit in the waiting room. Damn, really? These people were cheap.

Minutes later, another staff member directs her to the Hitman Bang’s office upstairs. She hates to be judgmental, but this place is like. The shitters. The floors are dirty and the paint is peeling off the walls and the halls are a tight squeeze through. When she makes it up to his office, she’s not surprised to see how small it is. She sits herself down onto the seat in front of him and opens her mouth to speak, but he quickly cuts her off.

“Here, sign in first,” he says. She expects him to direct her to a computer or a card reader or something, but he hands her a clipboard with a stack of binder paper on it instead. The sight makes her wrinkle her nose, but she signs it anyway.

Whew, this is trashy.

“Lim Yuri,” he reads her name off the clipboard, “What brings you here today?”

“I, uh,” she pauses to shrug. “Just wanted to talk, I guess.”

“About?” he asks, quirking a brow.

“Kim Namjoon,” she admits. She’s not sure why saying his name aloud makes her face so hot. “He’s, um, a trainee in your company, I think. Or is going to be. I’m not really sure, uh, we haven’t really talked recently. Gonna need a status check on that one.”

“He’s coming in to sign his contract with his parents next week. It took a while, but he wore ‘em down,” he jokes, shaking a fist in victory. “So not yet, but soon.”

“This sounds like the kind of information that a company shouldn’t be sharing so freely. Haven’t you heard of contract confidentiality?” she huffs. “I came here to protect Namjoon, and you already seem like you’re not doing a very good job.” Old man Bang’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline in surprise, obviously not expecting the little girl in front of him to be so serious about all this.

“Well, uh, he hasn’t signed any contract with us yet,” he justifies himself. “So I haven’t technically said anything confidential.”

“Nice save.”

“Thanks,” he says, before awkwardly clearing his throat. Regaining composure, he continues, “I can assure you, we’re doing our best to protect our artists, and will do the same for him once he’s with us. What do you think you need to protect your friend from?”

“I don’t know, weird industry stuff that he doesn’t know about!” she says, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration. “Like a slave contract or eternal debt or some weird shitty concept that he doesn’t wanna do, okay? I don’t know!”

“Relax,” he says. She huffs and folds her hands back into her lap. “Your friend is in good hands. It’s easy to take advantage of young trainees, but I can assure you that this is not the case here. We’re forming this next group around him. Because of him. We respect his creative decisions and will be giving him near-full reigns on whatever projects he wants to work on. I’ve heard him rap before, so Lord knows he can.”

“Which one?” she asks after a beat of silence. She can’t fight the hint of a smile off her face, despite the circumstances.

“Huh?”

“What song did you hear him rap?” she asks curiously. “Was it the one about the detective? I like that one. That one’s my favorite.” He blinks a couple of times in surprise.

“Yes, I heard that one,” he says, nodding. “He’s very talented. Incredibly introspective for your age.” 

“I know,” she says, almost boastfully. “Everyone knows except him.”

“Do they now?”

“Yeah. I even asked Sleepy,” she continues bragging. “You know, from Untouchable? ‘Tell Me Why’? Yeah, him, and he agreed, too. I just know he’s destined for greatness, and—”

“You’re right,” he says. “When I first heard his audition reel, I thought, ‘this person deserves to be an idol.’ I didn’t even have to see him to know that.” Yuri lets herself smile at that.

“Glad to know we’re on the same page.”

“And I do know Sleepy,” he adds. “In fact, he’s the one who showed me your friend’s mixtape and passed his contact information onto me.” Yuri’s eyes widen, genuinely surprised that he did that even after she harassed him at Rolling Hall. Outside the bathroom, no less.

“You know, I’m surprised that you know Sleepy,” he continues slowly. She can practically hear him thinking as he narrows his eyes at her. “Are you Glass, by any chance? The one from outside the bathroom?” 

Is that her thing now? She hates it here. His tone isn’t exactly flattering, but what’s she gonna do, lie?

“...I am she.”

“You’re that Yuri?” he asks, and she grimaces. 

“Yes.” She’s expecting him to like, shove a cross in her face or something. Instead, he just laughs.

“I heard you gave him an earful.”

“Well. Harassing old men on my friends’ behalves has recently become a hobby of mine,” she says wryly. He shakes his head, but even the old man can’t resist another laugh at that.

“That also means you made those beats, right? The ones in his audition reel?” he asks. 

“Yes, sir. Every last one,” she says truthfully.

“Interesting.” He folds his hands in front of his mouth and leans forward in his desk, and Yuri can practically see the cogs turning in his head. She can’t imagine what he’s thinking so hard about.

“Hypothetically, if we were to debut your friend in a boy group,” he begins.

“Oh God, I don’t like hypotheticals,” she interrupts. He laughs at her antics.

“It’d be a smart idea to have a female producer,” he continues. “Because if you think about it, that’d be our main audience, right? Girls around your age, give or take a few years?” She nods slowly as she thinks about the implications of what he’s saying.

“Yes,” she says after a long pause. “That would be smart.”

“And we’re already understaffed,” he admits. “It’d be a great help. I don’t know how much I’d be able to pay you—” 

“I can tell—”

“—but you’ll be working with your friend, right? Isn’t that a good idea?” He raises a brow at her, and he doesn’t need to say anything more for her to know that it’s a question and an offer all in one. 

In all honesty, it doesn’t sound that bad. Doing what she likes and working with a friend? Getting ‘near-full’ creative reigns? It sounds too good to be true, even to herself. She can’t exactly say she trusts in this, but it seems like it’s worth a shot. She heaves a sigh.

“You got a business card?” she asks. He seems to panic at that, awkwardly scrambling around his desk. Yuri nervously links her pinkies together as he spends a good five minutes opening and closing and opening his desk drawers again and again.

“Uh, you know what?” He pulls a sticky note off the top of the stack on his desk and writes his email address and phone number. Yuri has to stop herself from grimacing. The disorganization of this little company makes her cringe, but she guesses she’ll just have to take a leap of faith.

April 17, 2010. Han River, Seoul, South Korea.

Yuri links her pinkies nervously as she sits, staring down at the dosirak boxes in her lap.

She’s on a park bench by the Han River, praying to every God she can think of that Namjoon shows up. She’d texted him earlier that week asking him if they could meet there, to which he replied with a simple ‘okay’ text—a very bad sign when coming from the wordiest guy alive. But they did just have a really bad falling out, so she supposes beggars can’t be choosers.

“Hey,” she hears a familiar voice say from behind her, accompanied by a tap on the shoulder. It makes her whip around so fast she nearly smacks him with her ponytail.

“Oh, um, hey! Hey,” she says nervously. Namjoon laughs fondly, shaking his head.

“You look like you got stood up for a date,” he jokes, taking a seat next to her on the bench. She can’t help but blush as his knee bumps against hers. They sit in silence for a moment, as was usual in the Namjoon-Yuri dynamic. Despite the awkward air about them, it dawns upon her just how much she’s missed him, even just by sitting next to him like this.

“Here,” her voice cuts through the quiet as she drops one of the dosirak boxes in his lap. “I, um. I made this for you. And I wanted to say I’m sorry.” Namjoon clicks his tongue.

“Don’t be,” he says, shaking his head. “I should be the one saying sorry. I overreacted and said shitty things to you that I shouldn’t have. I’m embarrassed, really… I’m the older one, you know? I should’ve been the one to apologize first, if anything. I know you say things because you care, or because you don’t want to be lonely… and I get that. Nobody wants to be lonely. Nobody deserves to be lonely, especially a person like you who always does things for other people.”

“Namjoon-oppa.”

“Hm?”

“You have this—” she cuts herself off, voice cracking. “You have this bad habit of making me cry.”

Wordlessly, Namjoon shrugs off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders and placing a comforting hand atop her head. He coos when she leans into his touch. It makes her chuckle softly, even through the tears. She slips her arms into the sleeves, using them to wipe those tears away.

“Sorry for getting snot on your jacket,” she sniffles. He shakes his head, moving his hand down from her head to rub comforting circles into her back.

“Keep it. It looks better on you anyway,” he assures her. He drops a jab in there, too, if only to reach for a bit of normalcy. “And I just took it off, so. It’s got that boy smell you like.” He laughs when she smacks him with one of the long sleeves.

“Suuuure,” she says sarcastically. She rolls her eyes at his words, sincerely doubting that she looks good in anything in her current snotty, teary-eyed state—let alone a jacket that’s like, four sizes too big for her. But Namjoon has, embarrassingly enough, read her for filth. She will very much be keeping the jacket for as long as it has that very distinct Namjoon smell.

She leans her head on his shoulder and realizes she really, really missed him. That’s just the truth of it. She missed him and his smell and his dimples and his weird metaphors and his big wrinkly brain.

“I just want to make things clear,” she begins nervously, “If you think signing with Big Hit is the way to achieve your dreams and stuff, I want you to do that. I want you to know that I’ll be right there with you.”

“Thanks,” he says. “It’d be tough to know someone I cared about wasn’t supportive of this.” The admission makes her blush, but she shakes her head.

“No, I mean like, literally,” she admits, laughing nervously. “Um, I went to their building the other week, you know? To check it out and see if there was anything weird happening there. I, um, talked to the old man upstairs—old man Bang, not God.” He laughs at that. It melts her heart a little. “But, um, yeah. He was talking about how they’re understaffed and had heard about my producing and stuff and thought it’d be a good idea since we worked together already. We’re not discussing contract stuff for like, another two weeks? But before that happens, um, I just wanted to let you know before you sign yours. I won’t do anything that like, forces you to work with me or—”

“You don’t need my permission to do anything,” he says. “You want to still work together, right? Isn’t that why you went there?”

“Yes.” A half-truth, but she’s not gonna admit she harassed that poor old man to ensure his safety. That’d probably be a blow to his ego, and seeing as they just made up, that’s the last thing she wants.

“Then you should. We already know how the other works. It just makes sense,” he says. “And we’ll be together.” And her whole stomach does flips.

Her whole mind is going a mile a minute, then. It barely registers when he holds out his fist, and a couple awkward seconds pass before she has the brainpower to bump it back.

When he smiles at her, dimples on display and teeth poking out from between his lips, it feels like a punch to the gut. The relief she’d felt swell in her chest when she heard his voice is nothing compared to the tingling sensation she feels in her stomach right now. Suddenly, she understands what her older brother meant that night she asked about Donghyuk, and he said some bullshit about not knowing until you know.

She gets it now because she knows. It’s going to race through her mind every time she looks at him. She doesn’t need to write it down, but she knows she will when she gets home, if only to get it out. She needs an outlet for what she feels like is going to be etched into her heart forever.

Epiphany #14: Lim Yuri is stupidly, uncontrollably, undeniably in love with Kim Namjoon.

[fallen-imagine-angel]

Arranged Marriages & Forbidden Love - Chapter 1

Notes: Here it is, chapter 1! I hope you guys like it! There’s more angst and fluff to come...

Summary: You meet a certain boy at a party.

Arranged Marriages & Forbidden Love - Chapter 1

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word Count: 2,109

Warnings: Angst, I guess? :)

| Prologue | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

It’s been two years. You’re now seventeen. Almost nothing has changed. You still go on patrol every night with Spider-Man whose identity is still a mystery, you’re still in an arranged marriage with your best friend Harley, and MJ has been your best friend outside of the compound ever since the night you helped her.

Scratch that, one thing has changed. Instead of private tutoring, your father wants to send you to a real school now. Specifically, Midtown High School, where MJ goes. You comply, mostly because you want to see MJ more.

So that’s why you are where you are now: walking into a party with MJ. 

It’s at a girl named Liz Allen’s house, but you don’t know who that is. Apparently, she’s some popular girl.

“Come on, I’m gonna make myself a piece of toast.” MJ heads immediately to the kitchen, which is just a bit down the hallway from the door. You snort, that’s such an MJ move.

“Make me a piece while you’re at it, yeah?” You grin at her and she chuckles.

“Miss Stark, am I a slave to you?” She jokes, elbowing you in the side.

“Absolutely.” You wink at her. She laughs and gets to work making her toast. Your eyes scan the room. You see mostly faces staring at you in awe or gawking that the (Y/n) Stark is at their party. A few boys come up to talk to you, but after seeing your glare, they all back down. You don’t want some preppy know-it-all boy to try to swoop in and steal your heart when you know your heart is too guarded for them.

You’re already married, in a way.

So, instead of partying like a normal teenager, you zone out. You know you’re staring at the wall a little bit too long, but you can’t help it. Your mind is elsewhere.

Like, for example, your mind is on the fact that you’re at a party for a school that you’re about to transfer to. In the movies, this is the time where the heroine meets their love interest. They bump into one another and maybe the love interest accidentally spills some alcohol on the heroine and then apologizes, helping them clean it up later. They’ll find each other later at school and confess their love, knowing right away that they were meant for each other.

You roll your eyes at these clichès. You’ve never believed in love at first sight, and at one point you didn’t even believe in love. You changed your mind about love not being real whenever you took the time to look at Tony and Pepper’s relationship, though. They clearly loved each other. One point has stayed strong throughout your entire life, though, and that’s the point that love, at first sight, is non-existent. Love, at first sight, is a myth.

So why is it that you question every time you’ve ever told yourself that as soon as you see him across the room?

“(Y/n)?” MJ asks, waving a hand in front of your face. You blink a few times then turn your body toward her, but keep your eyes trained on his face. He’s not looking at you yet.

“Hm?” You hum, too enamored by this boy to actually focus on her.

“Why are you staring at Peter?” She asks, giving you a weird look. This tears your gaze from the boy.

“Peter? Peter Parker? Like, your crush of a year Peter Parker?” You snort, eyes going wide.

“Keep your voice down! But...yes.” She takes a bite of her toast. You gulp.

“I’m going to go say hi.” You spin on your heel, looking back at the boy. This time, though, he’s already staring at you. You feel your cheeks heat up slightly.

MJ says something but you’re already walking away and toward Peter. The two of you meet in the middle of the next room, gaze only now breaking as the two of you fumble for words.

“Hi.” He smiles at you and rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“Hi...I’m, uh, (Y/n) Stark.” You hold your hand out. He shakes it lightly.

“I know who you are. I mean- like, I’ve seen you on TV. Um...you’re a Stark. I’m not creepy. I’m...Parker. Peter. Peter Parker.” He stutters, being painfully awkward. You don’t mind. In fact, it’s endearing.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You blush.

“What are you doing here?” He blurts, seeming surprised by his own question.

“Oh-- right, sorry. I’m here with a friend since I’m about to transfer to Midtown. She already goes here.” You explain. He nods.

“That’s...really cool. I would have thought that a Stark like you would be tutored.” He jokes, relaxing slightly.

“Haha, very funny...but you’re right. I was in tutoring until now.” You laugh, running a shaky hand through your hair. Why is this boy having such an effect on you? 

“So I was right!” He chuckles, his eyes crinkling when he smiles. You give him a wide smile.

“Don’t act so surprised, Peter.” You scrunch your nose up at him.

“I’m not! In fact, I get things right all the time, you’d be surprised.” He pouts slightly. You can tell that he’s warming up to you fast, although you don’t know why. You’ve never met him before, have you? No, you would remember meeting Peter Parker.

“Right...sure you do.” You tease, poking him lightly in the arm. You feel so comfortable with him after only knowing him for a few minutes.

“So what’s your favorite subject?” He switches the subject, his eyes lighting up.

“Well, I love chemistry. I’m...okay, since my dad is Tony Stark, I know all of the Avengers. That includes Spider-Man. I help him make his web fluid sometimes and it’s really cool. I also love working with machines, mostly because of my dad.” You answer honestly. 

“Really? You know Spider-Man? That’s super cool. What’s he like?” Peter asks, suddenly interested in the red and blue clad hero.

“He’s pretty chill, kinda awkward sometimes. Super funny, though.” You tell him about Spider-Man. He nods.

“Sounds like a cool dude.” He bites his lip.

Oh, my. The things this boy does to you already.

You turn back to look at MJ. She’s already staring at you and Peter, a lovestruck look on her face as she focuses on Peter.

You immediately think of three reasons.

“Come with me.” You grab Peter’s hand, ignoring the spark you feel when you touch it. You don’t catch his blush.

“Where are you taking me?” Peter laughs, a joyous thing that you wish you could hear every day.

“I’m about to change your life.” You turn back to look at him, sending him a friendly wink as you lead him over to MJ.

“Then, by all means, lead the way.” He grins at you. You turn back around, letting your thoughts run wild.

Three things. Three reasons why you can’t be with Peter.

Number one: You’re a girl in a world in which your only job is to get married to Harley. That, and run the company. Your father has no sons, so you’re the one who has to take over and run it when he’s gone. Plus, you’re technically engaged.

That doesn’t mean you want Peter any less.

“MJ, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” MJ extends her hand toward Peter. He shakes it, returning to his nervous state. You didn’t realize you had already walked all the way over here.

“MJ?” He asks, a quizzical look on his face.

“Short for Michelle Jones, she’s my best friend.” You explain, discreetly nudging MJ in the arm. She ignores you.

Number two: He could be after you because you’re Tony Stark’s daughter. That would definitely elevate his status, and he could just want to use you. Maybe that’s partially why you introduce him to MJ since she’s an honorary daughter of Tony’s but she isn’t blood-related to the man.

“It’s nice to meet you, although a party isn’t exactly my scene.” MJ looks around, making you feel like you’re not there anymore.

“If it takes going to a party for us to meet, it will have been worth it.” Peter jokes although you can see a crush taking place. You sigh.

“I’ll leave you to it.” You force a smile onto your face, stepping away from them.

Number three: You know MJ like you know your own mind. She’s the kindest soul you’ll ever meet, even though she masks it with sarcasm. If you told her how you feel about Peter, she’d let you have him with no debate. He’d be yours. She would say she’s fine, but she’d be lying. You can’t do that to her.

However, that does not mean that you won’t fantasize about what would have happened if you had been selfish and kept Peter for yourself. It would’ve worked for a while until he found out that you’re to be married to another man.

At least MJ’s going to be with him now.

At least you’ll be friends with him.

“Hey, MJ, Peter? I’m gonna go. I’ve got...uh, some stuff to do for my dad.” You tell them quickly. You forgot about having patrol tonight, so you need to leave quickly.

“Oh, crap--” Peter’s eyes go wide.

“What?” MJ asks, concerned.

“I forgot I have something to do. I’ll see you at school, yeah?” Peter gives MJ a dazzling smile which you wish you could be on the receiving end of. She smiles slightly and nods back.

“Yeah, of course.”  

And then you’re both walking out of the party, side by side. It’s a lot more awkward than it was when you were both talking before.

You want to tell him everything but nothing all at once. It’s killing you inside. You get to your car, seeing his parked two cars down from yours.

“I’ll see you at school, too, right?” He asks, his eyes lighting up a bit when he meets your gaze. You give him a soft smile.

“Yeah.” You nod. The corner of his mouth twitches up.

“Great. I can’t wait.” He gives you a thumbs up before running to his car.

You can’t help but feel bad.

Once you’re home, you immediately suit up and go on patrol as Obsidian. Spider-Man is already waiting for you outside your window.

“Spider-Man is waiting on me? I feel special.” You mock fainting, falling in midair slightly before catching yourself and flying back up.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Spider-Man says. You hear the hesitation in his voice.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, leading him to the top of the roof so you can sit down with him.

“It’s not that something’s wrong...it’s that I want to show you who I am. Who I really am.” He fiddles with the ends of his mask, getting ready to pull it off.

“Spider-Man, we said we wouldn’t--”

“You gave me your identity the first night we went on patrol. It was by accident, but it happened. I’m returning the favor, just two years late. I want to do this, it’s not your choice anymore.” He takes off his mask.

Your jaw drops as you stare at the one and only Peter Parker.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I’ve known you this whole time, Parker?” You gasp, shoving his shoulder. That’s why you felt so comfortable with him at the party.

“Heh, y-yeah I guess you have.” He nods, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“I can’t believe it, I never would’ve guessed. That’s crazy.” You giggle, relaxing a lot more with Peter. You’ve known him for two years, you’re practically best friends already.

“Yeah. Crazy. Look, no one else can know, alright? Not even MJ. Ever.” He stares into your eyes. 

You could get lost in his eyes.

“Got it. Never tell MJ. I promise.” You pretend to zip up your lips and throw away the key. He breaks into a smile.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to tell you who I am. I figured that after that party, now would be a great time.” He laughs, his knee accidentally nudging yours. You blush heavily, and for once you’re glad you have a mask on around him.

“Now was a good time, but since it’s over, we have to patrol. Come on, Spider-Boy.” You grin, watching him put his mask back on. 

“Watch this!” He runs and jumps off the building, whooping and yelling as he swings across the street. You giggle and jump off the building after him, flying to catch him.

Yeah, there’s no way your crush is going away any time soon.

[shirtlesssammy]

4x13: After School Special

Then:

Sam and Dean were once kids, and they had a pretty crappy father.

Now:

High school, amirite?

A joyous time where friends call you “slut” so you turn around and call a nice helpful classmate a “fat, ugly pig”, only to have the nice helpful classmate turn around and swirly you to death the next day in the bathroom. Plus your parents set your curfew at 9 pm on weekdays.

April, the girl who murdered her classmate, is in an institution. No one believes her story, but Sam Winchester in white scrubs does. Sam asks about sulfur or black smoke, but April just thinks he’s crazy.

Back in the Impala, Sam tells Dean that he believes April’s story and thinks they’ve got a case of demonic possession. The only thing off about it is that she didn’t see any black smoke. Time to check out the school. Dean sarcastically agrees. “Truman High, home of the Bombers.” (Oof, I’m surprised there wasn’t a referendum in that town to change that mascot!)

(And because I paused the video and was granted this aesthetically pleasing shot, I will share with the class)

It seems that the brothers went to this school once upon a time. Dean wants to know their cover. “FBI? Homeland Security? Swedish Exchange students?” Sam’s got an idea.

Cue Foreigner’s “Long, Long Way From Home”, porn shots of Baby, and a flashback to Sam and Dean’s first day at Truman High. A) Baby Sam in his little Carhartt just is the cutest thing ever. B) For all the math nerds out there, the caption says “Truman High School, 1997”. Sam says that it’s November. So, do the math and Dean should have graduated in the spring of 1997. We all know he didn’t because he got his GED. So, the question remains, was Dean held back in school (a VERY real possibility considering his extreme intelligence and extreme dislike for book learning, and all the monster hunts and moving and being a full time parent, etc.) or is he going through the motions of school just to watch out for Sammy? I don’t know which is worse.

Sam and Dean are introduced to their respective classmates. As Sam plops his stuff down on his new desk, his butterfly knife falls out. Millhouse Barry, another student that will soon become friends of sorts with Sam, notices.

Dean, meanwhile is pressing hard on the condescending, misogynistic bravado that we all know isn’t him at all. I really love this tidbit of information that Jensen gave to Brock Kelly, who played the flashback Dean in this episode.  

In Sam’s classroom, while the teacher discusses an essay assignment, Barry gets bullied by another classmate. Sam Fucking Winchester tells the bully to knock it off. Sam, who hasn’t hit his growth spurt yet, is called a midget and Sam, gifted with the self-confidence of a boy that has his tribe (albeit small) and an outsider’s assurance that fitting in won’t matter to his drifter lifestyle (and that butterfly knife in his pocket, no doubt), challenges the bully. The bully flinches.

Present day Sam wanders the halls of Truman High as a custodian. He just walks past his old English class when his old English teacher, Mr. Wyatt, comes out.

Present day Dean is A LOT. He’s dressed as the substitute gym teacher. And well, we all know how much Dean loves to dress up. When he leans into an act, he leans into an act.

He tasks his poor underlings to the art of the Dodge while reconvening with Sam. Sam shames Dean’s outfit, and Dean’s slight look of abashment is so sad. The dude loves to LARP. Sam has been all over the school but not one clue. Maybe there isn’t a case after all.

Meanwhile in Home Ec, Male cheerleader threatens his table partner with a fist to his throat if he doesn’t share his homework. So, the other dude does what any sane person would do and takes said fist and pushes it into a whirling food processor. Sam is there to see the cheerleader whisked away and the other kid fall to the floor, black goo oozing from his ear.

While the school has a non-violence assembly, Sam and Dean have free reign to search the school for EMF and ghosts. 

They’re dealing with a seriously pissed off ghost. Dean already did a little searching in the principal's office and found out that there was one suicide back in 1998, Barry Cook.

Flashback to this gem of a school banner:

Mr. Wanek is the art teacher. ALL THE HEARTS.

We’re shown more bullying of Barry with Sam coming to help. Sam learns that Barry wants to be a veterinarian. “You like animals?” dog loving Sam inquires. “They’re a lot nicer than people.” We also learn that Sam is adorable in his little brown striped hoodie. 

Dean, meanwhile, is making out with a fellow student in the broom closet. This whole scene is a gold mine for Dean analysis. Needless to say, the more Dean tells the girl about his life, the more her alarm bells are going off for him. You’re life isn’t normal or healthy, Dean bby.

Sam and Barry run into Barry’s bully, Dirk, in the hallway. Sam tells Barry to run while Dirk threatens Sam. Sam just stands him down, and starts to walk away before Dirk punches him. His English teacher breaks it up.

In the present day, Sam and Dean burn Barry’s bones and leave town.

Sam laments the fact that if he could have stayed at Truman High just a little longer, maybe he could have helped Barry. Dean tries to console him, and tells him that it was a good thing they got out of there so soon. Sam doesn’t think it was all bad.

Flashback to Dean raging about what Dirk did to Sam, but Sam doesn’t want Dean’s help. He wants to be normal. They’re stuck in this town for at least another week (MY GOD, JOHN WINCHESTER. This. Is. Child. Neglect.) (Sidenote: Dean tells Sam that Amanda wants him to meet her parents. He then says he doesn’t “do parents” and well, we know he met Cassie’s mom and he met Cas’s dad, so sometimes he’ll meet the parents. Just saying, and welcome to my world where I can make literally anything about Dean and Cas.)

Back in time, Mr. Wyatt pulls him aside to ask him about a “non-fiction” essay he turned in where he describes how he and his family killed a werewolf over the summer. Sam’s only somewhat abashed. He’s clearly taken on the mentality that whatever he does in class won’t matter since they’ll be moving on soon. But the teacher tells Sam that his work is good enough that he could be a writer someday. Sam shuts him down: he has to go into the “family business.” (Hey Sam, you can always write on the side, baby.) The teacher asks him if he wants to go into the family business. “No one’s ever asked me that before,” Sam says. SAMMY. While I weep over Sam’s childhood, the teacher encourages Sam to make his own choices in life.

For Pretty Patterns Science

In the present, Sam heads back to find the teacher who encouraged him when he was a child. Standing nervously outside the door, he’s interrupted by a girl who asks him for directions. “Thanks, Sam,” she tells him when he helps her and then she STABS HIM OH MY GOD. “You got tall.” 

She starts beating him up, ectoplasm oozing. Sam shoves a handful of salt into her mouth and expels the ghost.

Back at the car, Dean mirrors the school scene from earlier. He feeds Sam alcohol while he rages about ripping out the ghost’s lungs. “Or, you know what I mean.” They realize that all three of the attacking kids rode the same school bus.

Cut to Dean stalking through the suspect school bus with his shotgun, as one does.

They’re looking for hair, for skin, for anything that might tie a ghost to the bus. Dean finds the bus driver’s recent certification; he started the route 2 weeks ago. He’s the dad of Dirk, Sam’s youthful tormentor.

In the past, Sam confronts Dirk for beating up Barry. When Dirk attacks him, Sam’s had enough. He pulls out his raised-from-birth fighting tactics and quickly beats Dirk to the ground. “You’re not tough. You’re just a jerk. Dirk the jerk.” The nickname spreads like wildfire.

Sam and Dean talk to Dirk’s dad. Dirk died when he was 18 of an overdose. Dirk Sr. tells them that Dirk was poor and bullied. When he was thirteen, his mom got cancer and Dirk took care of her while he dad worked three jobs. As a cloud of guilt descends on Sam, Dean asks for Dirk’s burial site. Unfortunately, Dirk Sr. had him cremated. “All of him?” Dean asks. Dean. Bean.

It gets the job done. Dirk Sr. keeps a lock of Dirk’s hair in the bible on his bus.

That evening, the bus ferries a load of (presumably) football players to a game. Ectoplasm oozes out of the bus driver’s nose. The bus rams over a set of road spikes. I’m asking the screen WHY there are road spikes when Sam Winchester approaches the bus driver. Yeah, motha fuckahs, it’s a Winchester trap. (Related: they keep ROAD SPIKES in Baby’s trunk? Ooookay.) Dean ties up the bus driver, aka Dirk, in salt-soaked rope and then heads into the bus to find Dirk’s remains. He gets recognized as the gym teacher but Dean deflects: He’s 21 Jump Street, man. This ain’t nothin’ but a drug bust.

Dean finds the bible, but there’s nothing in it. Dirk falls into his villain monologue. In his experience, Sam and the popular kids are the bullies - they’re evil. “I’m not evil,” Sam protests because he is CUT TO THE CORE by being called evil. (Me: remembers that this is Season 4 and nods knowingly.)

“We were scared and miserable and we took it out on each other...that’s high school. But you suffer through that and it gets better.” Sam’s words don’t convince Dirk, who bursts free of his bonds. He gets shot out of the bus driver’s body and possesses one of the students. While Sam’s getting the crap beaten out of him, Dean searches everywhere for the hair, eventually finding it in the bus driver’s shoe.

Dean fumbles with his lighter (MY GOD invest in better lighters, boys) and then lights the sheaf of hair on fire. Dirk bursts free from the student and dissolves into flame.

And...we’re in flashbacks again. Dean’s kissing a different girl in the supply closet. Amanda walks in and Dean very, very poorly tries to cover.

Amanda delivers a scathing analysis of Dean: “I thought maybe underneath your whole ‘I could give a crap,’ bad-boy thing, that there was something more going on. I mean, like the way you are with your brother. But I was wrong. And you spend so much time trying to convince people that you're cool...but it's just an act. We both know that you're just a sad, lonely little kid. And I feel sorry for you, Dean.” This devastates Dean, of course. We close the episode with Sam riding an absolute high, beloved by the school and Dean at his lowest. John Winchester shows up just in time, or way too soon, depending on your viewpoint. They climb into John’s car, Sam waves goodbye to Barry, and they leave town.

In the present, Sam finally heads in to talk to Mr. Wyatt. (Sam’s still bruised and cut from the fight so...awkward.) He thanks Mr. Wyatt for the advice he gave him years ago. Sam admits that he made his own choices for a little while but got pulled into the family business in the end. Oh, Sammy. <3 “You took an interest in me when no one else did,” Sam tells him. “That matters.”

“The only thing that really matters is that you’re happy,” Mr. Wyatt tells him. “Are you happy, Sam?”

And...fin.

Rollin’ with the Quotes:

You got your lunch? Books? Butterfly knife?

The whistle makes me their god.

I have to go into the family business.

There may be three or four big choices that shape someone's whole life, and you need to be the one that makes them, not anyone else.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[onewhoturns]

fictober.23.: the first appointment

#Fictober19 Prompt: 23. You can’t give more than yourself. Fandom: Oxenfree Characters: Jonas, Duke (OC) Rating: T (no warnings apply) Tags: Angst-ish, emo Jonas, mental health & therapy Word Count: 2802

So... I'm posting this in order to maintain Fictober, but in all honesty this is actually a side scene/side story to a previously mentioned project that is still in the works and has yet to be posted. There may be some spoilers for the beginning of that fic. This is more an exploration of who this AU's version of Jonas is, how he's been affected by the things in his life- I'm calling it 'emo Jonas' but it may not be the type of emo you're expecting, I don't know.

If you want to read it when it comes up in the fic, it's looking like that would be anywhere from chapter 6 to chapter 9 (we're still in the midst of writing at the moment), and I'll update the summary and add it in as a related work when that becomes applicable.

For now, if you still want to read now (and it's cool if you don't), enjoy Jonas's first meeting with Duke, with no context to the rest of the story.

-

An appointment. ‘Like a doctor’s visit.’ Yeah. Well, maybe.

“Hey. You want to come on in?”

Jonas holds his breath for a second, standing from the waiting room to follow the man inside. The guy is in his early 30s, brown hair with a bit of gray starting in, just barely this side of messy, with glasses that look like he should be drinking craft brews at some gastropub in Portland. Duke. That’s a name, alright.

“Nice to finally meet in person.”

Jonas just nods. He’s not great at speaking to new people. Took him a couple weeks to start talking in intake. But he has kinda met Duke before. A pretty long phone interview, not to mention emails. They wanted to find a good therapist, and Camena had options. He’d settled on Duke.

“It’s nice to have all the paperwork out of the way already. Kind of a waste of session time, really.”

Jonas’s brows raise as he tips his head in acknowledgment and agreement.

Duke has a leg crossed over the other, and Jonas realizes, in retrospect, that the guy is actually his height. Maybe an inch shorter, but pretty damn close.

“How tall are you?” They’re the first words out of Jonas’s mouth, but they do their part.

“Six three. On a good day, anyway.”

“Nice.”

“Shoe size?”

“13.”

Duke winces audibly. “Damn, you beat me. 12 and a half.”

Jonas smirks a bit. And the ice is broken.

“You came from school?”

Jonas’s eyes wander to the side table between his chair and the unoccupied couch. He reaches for some kind of adjustable wire toy, turning it inside out and flipping it into different shapes. “Yup.”

“What’s your electives?” It’s a better question than ‘how was your day,’ at least. Duke’s foot is bouncing idly, as well.

“Gym and weight training; shop.”

“At CHS, right? Wilkinson still teaching wood shop?”

Wilkinson? “Yeah, I think that’s his name. Old guy, wears a lanyard with a whistle on it even though I don’t think he does any sports stuff?”

“Yep. He’s not too bad. Get him talking about baseball, that’s a thing. Does he still have that slugger in the workshop?”

“I… don’t know?”

“He’s got two, actually, I think. Louisville Slugger wooden bats, one official and one he made. If he still has it. I heard one year some kids stole it for a prank.”

“Kinda a dick move, the guy’s gotta be at least 70.”

“Yeah. Kids can be idiots. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Technically an adult, and I’d agree regardless.”

“When we talked before, you sounded kinda meh on the Individual Studies thing. How’s that looking?”

“It’s…” Jonas pulls a face. “Still meh on it. Some of the other kids are… ehh. Remind me of guys from North Valley, thinking they’re the shit. And the teachers - or whatever they’re called, aides? They’re a mixed bag. This one girl - woman, I guess - she seems pretty cool. Darcy. Good attitude, even if she seemed kinda fake at first.”

“I’m not sure I totally get what the course is, to be honest.”

“I mean, I’ve got three periods of it, it gets old fast. Though— I mean I guess they’re not all the same. First period for me seems more like… learning skills?” Jonas winces. “I dunno, it’s kinda cringey sometimes. And then third is gonna be assessment stuff— kinda miserable, just packets of standardized test questions and shit like that. Last period is chill though. Basically like a study hall for me, working on the stuff from the tests. And I’ve been getting out a little early, so I can-” He stops.

Duke waits a second for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, he lifts his chin from looking at the pad of paper in his lap (where Jonas can see little geometrical doodles as well as his illegible scrawl of whatever he’s noting). “A reminder; mandatory reporting doesn’t include stuff like truancy, just plans to harm yourself or others. And I consider ‘plans’ to actually mean plans.”

“So… there’s this girl, right?”

“A friend?”

Jonas hesitates. “Yyeahhh…”

“Or… sounds like maybe not just a friend?”

He shakes his head, “No, definitely just a friend, just… kinda insane.”

“Fun fact; ‘insane’ is really a legal term.”

Jonas rolls his eyes. “Kinda wild, then. Her and this other guy, too. They kinda like… adopted me?”

“Is that a positive or a negative?”

“I think it’s a positive? But— right, my point was, it gives me time to dip out the back and then meet them in the other parking lot.”

“Why the other parking lot?”

Jonas shoots Duke a flatly skeptical look. “Well they’re not gonna come meet me over in the ‘special’ wing.”

Duke huffs out a short laugh. “Wow, okay, strong feelings about IS are still there I see.” Even as Jonas is rolling his eyes again, he goes on. “So the wild duo. What kind of wild? You think they’ll get in the way of treatment?”

That makes him think for a second. “Um… no? I dunno. The guy is kinda stupid rich and somehow has a line to a shit ton of weed, apparently. Which could be a problem.”

Duke’s brows have risen high. “Could be, yeah. Does your JPPO do random testing? Think being around them could mess with your results?”

Jonas shakes his head. “Nah, they’re scheduled. Every other two weeks. And that should be done by the end of June, and the testing might be ditched entirely when we go down to only meeting once a month. Plus apparently he’s more of an edibles guy, so I’m not super worried about anything accidental. I can always just keep away for a few days before testing, shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Even though you’ve been adopted?”

He snorts a bit at that. “Guess I can’t know for sure. Not too worried, though.”

“That’s good. How exactly did you manage to get adopted?”

“The girl was my tour guide first day. I guess she thought I was cool, ‘cause she introduced me to her friend and… I dunno. We exchanged numbers and stuff. Texted. They’re kinda high energy for me, but also-” Jonas hesitates, rolling his eyes before continuing. “It’s weird, ‘cause Alex is kinda… popular? She’s a total dork, constantly jokes about being a witch, but it feels like everyone knows her? And likes her? It’s weird.”

“Huh. Are you saying you think they shouldn’t?”

“I’m saying…” Jonas shrugs. “Eh. She’s nice enough, I get that. But like… I feel like at North Valley she would’ve been… I mean, not disliked. Considered annoying, maybe, in large doses. Not exactly a class clown, but that same idea. More of a subject of entertainment than friendship.”

“That’s an interesting way of seeing things.”

“What do you mean?”

“Analytical.”

Jonas considers that for a second. “…Maybe? It’s just kinda how the world is, I’m not complaining about it or anything.”

“Are you unhappy about it?”

He shrugs. “No? Like I said; it’s just how it is. People offer certain benefits, right? Sometimes that’s, like… like someone who always knows the homework. If we’re thinking concretely here. And then there’s the one who always has a pencil you can borrow. —It’s like a study group sorta analogy. There’s someone who’s able to get everyone together at once, and someone who can talk to the teacher and argue on your behalf, but who you might not want to spend time with outside of class ‘cause they argue with everyone. And there’s a class clown type, who’s really entertaining but can sorta get in the way if you’re trying to be serious.” Jonas pauses again. “I mean, there’s a lot. But everyone kinda has their strengths and weaknesses, right? It’s like a teamwork thing.”

“So where do you fit in this?”

He thinks for a moment, still playing with the wire cage. “I dunno. I have a car.” That’s part of it at least, even if other things come to mind as well.

“You think that’s what people see you for? Your car?”

Jonas’s lips pull. “I’m not saying that’s my only redeeming quality, I know I’m not just some dude with a car. That’s just, like, the prime benefit.”

“What else?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your other ‘redeeming qualities.’”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m— I know I have them, okay? I’m- I have skills. But they aren’t- y’know, like, my function in a social group.”

“What if you didn’t have your car? You can’t give more than yourself— what qualities do you think you’re bringing.”

“…Alex seems to think my height is a benefit.”

“She obviously has not been 6’3 and attempted to sit in a compact sedan.”

Jonas cracks a smile. “Yeah it’s cute, she’s not tiny but both her and Ren are like… she said it before, I don’t remember what it was 5’5 or 6 or something. Joked about needing me to retrieve pickle jars or whatever.”

“So you’re the guy with the car and the pickle-getter.”

“Sure.”

“That all?”

“Well- I mean, the tall thing is also like—” he waves a hand, “-y’know, the other tall stuff.”

“Can’t say I know what you mean, apart from reaching things and being asked about the weather.”

“You know.” Jonas fidgets slightly. Duke has to know that part of things. “The kinda… intimidation thing.”

“How do you mean?”

Jonas’s lips pull again in that vague passing annoyance. “You know. Being tall and looking— not scary exactly, but like… imposing, I guess. Basically looking like someone you don’t want to mess with.”

“And that’s what you think you bring to a friendship?”

“Yeah. Like… like a bodyguard or something.”

“You think your friends are in danger you have to protect them from?”

“No- well.” He lets out a short sigh, a rueful smirk hooking his lips. “Not yet, anyway. And once they are, I’m betting they’ll have put themselves into it.”

“What does the whole ‘bodyguard’ thing mean, then?”

“Um.” A few images pass through Jonas’s mind, and he hesitates, face impassive for a second before he shrugs again. “Trying to keep her from getting hurt. I guess.”

“…That doesn’t really sound like something based solely on height.”

His fingers twitch, and Jonas’s ears feel warm. “Look, I spent a year in juvie for physical assault. It might not just be the height.”

“You think she wants you to fight for her? Is this like… an American Gladiators kinda thing, or…?”

The laugh is just a huff of breath, but the corners of Jonas’s mouth are lifting. “I don’t think she wants me to fight. I’m just— And I don’t want to fight!” he assures Duke. “But like… there’s probably some element of ‘this guy makes a good meat shield’ or whatever.”

“You ever think they might just… like you? Like just, as you?”

He snorts. “I— I’m not saying they don’t! I mean, at the very least they tolerate me, and I assume they must like me, otherwise we wouldn’t text all the time. It’s really easy to ignore someone’s texts and make excuses.” Jonas isn’t even mad about the question, it’s so far removed from how he feels. “I’m just saying that there’s this fringe benefit for them.”

“And is that how you see them, as well?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Honestly, they’re my allies right now. Not in a bad way - I like them, they’re fun - but at the moment their function in my social circle is connecting me to my new community, right? They’re transitional aids, like a kinda PREP thing. Or IS. I mean, she was a tour guide.”

“Sounds kinda dehumanizing.”

“It’s not meant to be. I’m— Look, we talked all the time about support systems and community engagement, and buying in, right? So, I’m building a support system of peers.”

Duke cocks his head, looking mildly bemused.

“What?”

“It sounds like you know the words pretty well.”

“Yeah, well. I didn’t talk much. Mostly listened.”

“Is that really how you think about the people around you? As… I don’t know, bricks in your support structure?”

“I mean, it’s not the only thing I’m thinking. I like the company, I like the distraction, they’re fun. But…” Another one-shouldered shrug. “I dunno, man, call it a justification if you want.”

“What do you mean?”

Jonas sighs. “Gives me a reason to keep trying.” Again, it’s not said in anger, or even in sadness. Just a straightforward factual statement.

“What would you do if you didn’t think of things that way?”

“Can’t know for sure, obviously. But— I dunno. Call it distress tolerance. Giving them a function gives me a reason to tough it out. Like—” He pauses. “…Yeah, no, I can’t figure out an analogy for the brick thing. Sticking with people instead of being— transient.”

“Transient.”

“Kinda drifting around. Moving through things.”

“You think you’re transient?”

“I think I’d survive without friends. Until shit started to go wrong, I guess.”

Duke is quiet, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to parse the statement, considering. “…I’m not sure I get it.”

“I like people, but all the— politics, I guess. It stresses me out. I’d rather just… not. At least, in group things. School, juvie— the social dynamic is this constant thing where you’re maintaining. Don’t shit where you eat and all that. Don’t fuck it up, you’re stuck there. All this work to not make things worse for yourself. Honestly, I’d rather just see people when I see them. All day every day is… a lot.”

“…Can I ask you a question?” He’s leaning forward, and his tone is a different kind of curious than he has been.

“I mean… that’s literally all you’ve been doing.”

“Your residential center, your stepdown stuff— they had GED programs. Why come back to high school?”

Jonas is spinning the little wire toy around one finger steadily, keeping an eye on it to avoid having it fly off, even as he picks up speed. “Dad wanted me to.” His stomach dips, and his voice is a little quieter. “Mom would, too.” He’s silent for a second, still spinning. “And it’s supposed to be good for me. Community engagement, support structures, all that.”

“Why do you think they wanted you to do school?”

“I mean, my mom was a teacher. My dad… just wants me to be well-adjusted. I think he wants me to feel normal again.”

“What do you think?”

Jonas’s gut has been steadily, gradually, slowly but surely filling with lead. He breathes evenly. Too evenly. Actively making the attempt. When he speaks, it’s a low mutter. “Not sure that’s possible, if we’re being honest.”

“Why not?”

He shakes his head. “I dunno. Things just— changed. Can’t really undo that.”

“…I mean, I agree that you can’t live in the past. Things happened, you can’t undo them, but you also can’t spend every minute thinking about them. I know mindfulness tends to get a bad rap ‘cause it’s sort of trendy in the mental health field right now, but there’s definitely a ton of upsides to it.”

“I’m… vaguely familiar.” Jonas’s voice is a bit wry.

“So you know the whole idea of where you’re living. The goal is being present. So not living in the past, or in the future, but in the here and now, without judgment.”

“…Okay…”

Duke is still bouncing his foot a bit. “What do you think? Like— really consider it for a second. What that means.”

“What, living in the present?” Duke shrugs in a casual kind of confirmation. Jonas sighs, fixes his eyes on the therapist, and tries to do as asked. “…I guess I just feel like that’s asking for trouble.”

“How so?”

“I mean… thinking about the future is kinda important. Otherwise you fuck things up and can’t undo them.”

“Who says you can’t?”

Jonas snorts. “You? Like… a minute ago?”

“I guess— maybe it’s just the use of ‘undo.’ You can’t rewind and make something not have happened, but you can control how you handle the consequences, how you potentially repair the situation, your reactions to things, all of that. But if you’re constantly fearing every possible outcome of anything you do… you do nothing.”

“So you’re saying not to think of consequences. You want me to just go party and violate parole and not care what might happen?”

“Well, no.” Duke actually rolls his eyes. “Hell— it’s a delicate balance, right? But some part of that has to be just allowing yourself to exist without judgment.”

“O…kay?”

“Or analysis.”

“…Ah.”

“I mean, it’s not like I’m advocating underage drinking or drugs or truancy or anything, but… You’re out, y’know? You’re in this do-or-die headspace, but your situation has changed dramatically. Now’s your chance to go back to being a kid. Live a little.”

[source for AO3]

[caiuscassiuss]

Well Played (basketball player au! NCT Johnny)

Genre: basketball player! au fluff

Member(s): Johnny ft. the rest of NCT as his basketball team

WC: 3.5k

Warnings: swearing

Description: In which you are a yearbook photographer in denial and 600% done with the basketball captain’s antics.

masterlist | requests | updates

_______________________________________________________________________

(A/N: I always wondered what it’d be like to go to American highschool with Johnny so here’s a hot basketball captain Johnny for you thirsty hoes)

You sighed as you look at the yearbook spread you helped edit. 

It was of the annual Fall Festival the Key Club put out, and there were many pictures filled with autumn amusement and merriment and it turned out fucking great but your unusually strict yearbook advisor demanded a complete redo of the pages. Apparently, it wasn’t “festive” enough, whatever the hell that meant. Because none of the yearbook staff actually do what they’re supposed to do, it looks like it’s Y/N to the rescue (for 28723847th time)!! Even though it wasn’t your job!!!

You quickly got back on a desktop in a quest to somehow make people picking pumpkins more “festive” when you suddenly heard a yell from the office.

“Y/N! Tonight is the Semi-Final State Basketball Championship and you have to shoot it at Deerfield!”

You made a sour face then walked over to your advisor’s, Mrs. Weather’s, office.

“Do I at least get free tickets?”

“No, but you have a yearbook pass which is just as good!”

“Ugh,” you murmured quietly as you went back to the desktop.

“C’mon, they chase away any photographer that isn’t you! The boys love you, especially that captain boy… what was his name again? Jake? Justin?”

“Johnny, Mrs. Weathers.”

“See! You even remember his name! Maybe his feelings are reciprocated, hm?”

“Mrs. Weathers,” you whined. We’re not all forgetful like you, you passive-aggressive old bat!

“If I were 40 years younger…” she chuckled.

Oh ewww. Like, double ewwww.

Glenbrook North’s Boys Basketball Team (the Spartans) is Chicago’s #1 basketball team in the city and state, winning both championships for the past 3 years. They’re even more funded than the football team, which basically never happens in American high school. They’re great and all but their captain…

Johnny Seo. A 6’1 senior sometimes called “Yao Ming Ming” for being Asian, tall, and really good at basketball. He was a rich kid, and incredibly popular for being funny and relatable. A lot of girls somehow found him and to be one of the hottest guys in school. And unfortunately, he was the son of your parents’ good friends.

You didn’t like taking pictures of the basketball team. Sure, some of the members like Mark or Sicheng were sweet and too pure for this world, but some members like Yuta and Johnny annoyed the hell out of you. It’s not as if like Johnny, or anything like that. You were always stuck with them because they always played tricks on other photographers so you were sent out in their stead.

The bell rang and you quickly packed up your stuff and saved your progress then walked out of the computer lab. You had a Socratic seminar in AP Lang next, and you had to be early so you could sit at the front. Normally, you would be in the middle, but your teacher had threatened to take points off of people not actively participating, and this bitch ain’t losing her GPA. You strode quickly through the crowded hallways.

“Hey! Y/N!!”

Your quick stride faltered as you froze at the voice. You turned around slowly to see Johnny in a Chicago Bulls windbreaker with some black skinny jeans and Vans. He had an easy gait as people parted for him like the goddamn red sea, his backpack casually slung over one of his broad shoulders.

“Yo broski,” he greeted as he caught up to you.

Sigh. “Hi, Johnny.”

“Can you at least sound excited to see me? I mean, we’ve known each other since we were 4.” Johnny huffed as he slung an arm around your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes.

“Exactly.”

“Oof, right in the gut!” Johnny dramatically pretended to bend over his injured gut as you walked.

“I’d give you real pain if it weren’t for your game,” you snarked.

“Aww worried about me? I’m flattered! Anyway, you know about the game? I thought you didn’t like sports.”

“I don’t. Mrs. Weathers ordered me to shoot the game for your inevitable state championship 4-page spread.”

“That passive-aggressive old-bat?”

“You got that right,” you barked out a laugh.

You turned towards him and looked up at his totally not handsome face. His cheekbones are totally not my aesthetic. Nope, that piece of brown hair flopping over his eye is not attractive. Noppity nope nope nope.

“Hey did your parents confirm that they’re going to dinner at Morton’s?” you asked as you turned left into the Lit hallway.

“Oh yeah, I think they did this morning.”

“Are you sure you can make it after your game?”

“When you’re involved? Totally, babe.” Johnny winked causing you to blush.

“Shut up-” you slapped him on his totally not hard biceps- “No, but really? I don’t want to be the only teen there to be interrogated about my life.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Hey, if you want a ride there you can just ride with me and I’ll stop at your house so you can get ready.” Johnny offered as you slowed down, seeing the entrance to your classroom in a few minutes.

“Oh, thanks! I’ll see you later Johnny.”

He smiled as you turned towards your classroom. The warning bell sounded, so he increased his pace to his AP Calc class which was 2 hallways down. He plopped down at his desk that was uncomfortably small for him next to Taeyong.

“Bro why are you so late?”

“Um, I just had to do… something,” Johnny fibbed.

“Liar,” Doyoung interjected from the back.

“He walked y/n to class in the Lit hallway,” Doyoung laughed as he spun his mechanical pencil around.

“The fuck bro? Are you stalking me?” Johnny leaned away from the dude who’s face looked like a rabbit and happened to be his point guard.

“Nah, I just saw you walking down the hallway with her.”

“He’s not the one doing the stalking here, Johnny, you are,” Taeyong said and Doyoung cackled and offered a high five.

“Like seriously Johnny boy, can you make your crush on her any less apparent than the past 4 years?” Doyoung wondered as Johnny was digging around for his graphing calculator.

“He’s whipped.” Taeyong laughed as he downed some water from his bottle.

“Shut up or I’ll bench you for the 2nd quarter.” Johnny threw an eraser at Taeyong who merely smiled innocently and opened his textbook.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Oh fuck!” you cursed as you looked through your bag while sitting in your Mom’s car. She was pulling into the roundabout of Deerfield High school where your school was playing against their hometeam.

“Language! Anyway, what’s wrong sweetie?”

You sighed as you turned to face her.

“I forgot my yearbook pass at school to get into the game.”

“Oh no! Well, that’s a problem. Hm… why don’t you ask Johnny to let you into the game? It’s his team playing after all.”

“That’s not how it works mom.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady!”

“Sorry.”

Your mom put her hands on the driver's wheel in thought. “Ok, $10 dollars isn’t that bad.”

“Mmm-” not when you’re a brokeass teen “-kay, bye mom!”

“I love you! Make sure you go to Morton’s immediately after- wait, hold on, how are you getting there?”

“Johnny’s driving me,” you murmured absent-mindedly as you collected your camera equipment from the back seat.

As busy as you were, you didn’t see the secretive smile that crept up your mother’s face.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Aight team, warm-up on the court in five! Get your asses out there!” Johnny shouted at the locker room full of boys. They all murmured in consent as they quickly put on their notorious dark green and silver track pants and jacket for the warm-up. They all filed out of the locker room to the arena where the stands were already bursting with people.

A roar rose up when crowd favorite entered. Even though they were at an away game, more than half of the crowd were Spartan fans. Even some people who attended Deerfield liked the Spartans better, because a lot of them were supposedly attractive and skilled when they played. All you saw was a goddamn headache.

As per their pregame ritual, someone grabbed one ball and they all stood in a line. The first person bounced the basketball on the headboard, which bounced back and into the hands of the second person, who did the same thing and so on. From the sidelines next to the coach you took some pictures of the boys standing in line. Some of them caught sight of you and waved hi, while others pulled funny faces which made you giggle. You checked the screen of your camera to check the lighting. In a few minutes, the whole team dispersed to do their own thing and took advantage of the cart of basketballs available.

“Y/n!”

You looked up and some hair went in your face. You huffed the rebellious stand of your face.

“Hey, Johnny!”

He jogged over to your position right under the headboard, his usually defiant brown hair contained in a headband just imagine Johnny at the NBA photoshoot

“Um, at the end of the game, just meet me near the entrance. I promise I’ll be there quickly.” He smiled sheepishly at you as he scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah, sure.”

Your eyes suddenly narrowed as you pushed a finger to his chest.

“I had to spend 10 whole dollars to get into your game. 10. Whole. Dollars. Money I could’ve spent on fried chicken or food or whatever.”

“What happened to your yearbook pass?”

“I fucking forgot it at school,” you pouted, secretly embarrassed.

She looks fucking adorable, fuck. Johnny thought as he laughed, his normally booming laughter drowned out by the crowd.

“The only reason I was allowed onto the court was that your coach recognized me!” you lamented, shifting your weight on one foot. You had to crane your neck to look up to him because he was a good 1 and a half heads taller than you.

“Captain! Stop flirting with y/n and get on the court!” Johnny’s vice-captain, Kun, yelled out as he sunk a shot from the 3 point line.

“Fucking hell- I’ll see you later.”

“Sure,” You smiled at him.

As the toss-up began and the game progressed, you moved quickly over the court to take some epic action shots. You could use this for your portfolio for art club, so you were really focused on taking good quality photos.

When the players switched offense to defense or vice versa and ran across the court, they made weird faces at you. Taeyong stuck his tongue at you, Doyoung creep-smiled complete with a double chin, and many more antics that made you lament over the wasted pictures.

When a picture of Lucas completing a lay-up with a meme expression on his tanned face popped up on your viewfinder, you sighed. When you saw Johnny, you were going to make some sort of complaint because you could not use a shot of Mark dabbing on your yearbook spread, and certainly not in your art portfolio.

You came across a shot of Johnny setting up a screen. He certainly did not look hot. No, he was not attractive when sweat dripped down his face and body and made his muscles stand out mo- Fuck this, ugh.

The game ended and as usual, the Spartans beat the Deerfield warriors by a large margin, 100 to 76. You packed up your equipment into your bag and left the court as soon as the crowd left the arena and waited near the entrance, the cold autumn air permeating through your lined denim jacket.

Johnny exited the school, some of his team laughing with him with their arms slung around his shoulders.

“Johnny!” you called out when you saw him in his tracksuit.

The little group’s attention turned toward you as his face turned red in the dim lights. Yuta grinned and said something in Johnny’s ear that made Johnny slap him upside the head, Yuta still grinning the whole time.

Johnny walked over to you and you both walked to his mustang that his dad bought for him the previous year for winning the state championship. He opened your door for you and you both sped off into the streets of suburbia.

_______________________________________________________________________

When you both were led by the maitre’d to the private, reserved table and no one was there, you both groaned. Earlier, he had stopped at your house and you both got ready (he brought his clothes with him). You put on a nice white lace sundress with some nude heels complimented with light makeup. Johnny, on the other hand, wore a white oxford shirt with an unbuttoned, navy blazer. paired with khaki slacks underneath and some smart leather shoes. Nope, not hot at all. He didn’t look like a snack. y'all probably looked like some rich suburban couple lol

“Oh my god. My parents had like 4 hours to get ready and they’re still not ready? Ugh,” you curse.d.

“Rip. Well, we’ll just have to wait for them”

He pulled out your chair for you WHAT A GENTLEMAN and you both sat down to look over the menu. After you ordered water with lemon and he ordered Sprite, you two struck up easy conversation.

It was when he recounted the time when his underclassman friends, Jeno and Jaemin, got detention for duct-taping someone’s phone to the ceiling, he cracked up. You looked at his laughing face and blushed.

Honestly, you really didn’t know your feelings for Johnny. Yeah, he was annoying and kind of a smartass most of the time, but he was funny and always seemed to care about you. Not to mention you’ve known him since forever; your families always went on did stuff together so you kind of were forced to interact. You always saw him as Mr. and Mrs. Seo’s son who played piano really well but in freshman year it kind of all just… changed. He quickly became popular. Johnny shot up until he was a fucking tree and his facial features became more defined and chiseled, so whenever you saw him, whether it was at a restaurant or a gala or a game, your heart beat out of your chest.

You stirred your straw around in your drink and sighed. Your friends always had sworn up and down he had a crush on you, but you never believed them. Why would he like you, the girl that he’s known since she was in her awkward braces phase, the girl that always seemed annoyed by him, when he could probably hook up with anyone in the grade?

“Y/n! Johnny! We’re so sorry we’re late, but traffic was just so bad downtown!”

Mr. and Mrs. Seo walked towards your table with your parents in tow.

It was not like you were 30 minutes late and forced me to stay with Mr. my-hair-flops-a-lot-and-covers-my-eye-and-makes-me-look-really-attractive.

They all sat down and when you engaged in conversation with Mr. Seo about your photography competition, you didn’t notice the triplet of smirks passed around by your parents and Mrs. Seo when Johnny stared at you over the rim of his drink, an adoring look in his eye.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Y/n, you know what tonight is?” Mrs. Weathers voice warbled from the office.

“Yes, today is the Boys Basketball State championship,” you sighed.

How could you forget? With your dads’ passion for basketball, yours and Johnny’s parents were attending the state game tonight.

“Well, you know what you have to do!”

“Yes, Mrs. Weathers.”

Hopefully they didn’t joke around this time. It was the State Championship game, for god’s sake.

_______________________________________________________________________

Sike. They did. From pre-game warm-ups to the time they had scored their winning baskets, they had some really fucking weird faces in store for you.

Of course, the Spartans of Glenbrook North’s Boys Basketball team crushed their opposing team. I mean, you didn’t particularly have a lot of school pride, but you still felt something warm in your chest when you saw them hugging each other as the final buzzer rang out and the crowd went wild. Not to mention it was kinda funny watching the normally “manly man” team lowkey crying.

You were waiting for your friend to pick you up to attend Jaehyun’s post-game party at his ginormous house when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

It was the man of the hour, Johnny Seo.

“Oh hey, Johnny! Congrats man, I’m so proud of you!” You smiled as you pulled the man behind you into a hug.

“Thanks, y/n.”

You looked up at his face which was kind of… tense?

“I can’t believe your team put up with you for all these years. If I were Sicheng I would’ve skrt skrted the day you joined as center.”

His unusually tense facade broke for a minute as he flicked you in the forehead.

“Shut up!”

You both laughed and fell silent, hearing the loud chatterings of excited people near you. His face quickly grew tense again.

“Y/n… I… uh… this is going to sound weird, okay?”

“Well you were always weird in the first place, so no surprises there.”

He smiled slightly and took your hands in his. His calloused hands felt rough, but soothing at the same time. You blushed from the contact and looked down for a moment.

“So… I’ve kind of liked you for the past 4 years, y/n. And probably more than that.”

Your head snapped up quickly in shock. Johnny? Johnny Seo? Seo Youngho? Likes me? Plain old me? What the fuck.

“Um, I know it’s alright if you don’t share my feelings but I figured since it was the last game of my high school career, I’d thought I just get this off my chest-”

“Johnny, I like you too.” You smiled at him, and slight blush still adorning your cheeks.

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

“Holy shit. Fuck. I did not expect this to happen, I thought you were going to reject me since you’ve always been annoyed with me, god-”

“Johnny I’ve always been annoyed with you because, well, I’ve liked you since freshman year too.” Your arms snaked around his corded neck and played with his slightly damp hair from his shower. You couldn’t even describe your feelings right now. You felt like you were high, and every nerve in your body tingled. Holy pigs on a stick Johnny likes meeeeee!

Johnny smirked as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close to his body, against the dim lights of the school lamps. The harsh light defined his features even more (if that was even possible), and made his eyes sparkle.

“Well, damn,” he whispered as he swooped down to capture your lips in his.

Yeah, there were no fireworks but there was definitely heat. The heat in his gaze you saw when he played on the court, the heat in his gaze when he played a particularly difficult run on the piano you could feel all around you when you closed your eyes and kissed him. Those longing looks you always sent towards each other and the shy brushes of your touches felt absolved as you kissed each other for quite some time.

“DAYUM JOHNNY BE GETTING SOME!!!”

Your make-out session was broken when both of your heads snapped in the direction of the noise. Johnny’s whole basketball team stood cheering in the parking lot, with a lot of girls giggling next to them.

“FUCKING FINALLY,” shouted Sicheng.

“JOHNNY GREW SOME BALLS!” Mark laughed as the whole team went wild over their captain, who they had known to crush on you for a long time and had to deal with his whole she-doesn’t-like-me-and-never-will deal.

“MARK!” Johnny shouted as his grip on you tightened.

You laughed and settled his head in his broad chest.

_______________________________________________________________________

The whole school basically rioted when they found out the next day. A bunch of people was congratulating you guys in the hallways because of his popularity, and he walked you to class and y’all held hands. His teammates kept on sending you guys sly glances throughout the whole day. Hell, even your teachers (including Mrs. Weathers) congratulated you. However, they weren’t as bad as your parents.

Your parents, when they found out, as you told them while holding hands, cried. They congratulated you like you had announced you were going to get married. Mr. Seo and your dad patted Johnny on the back and jokingly threatened to kill him if he hurt you, while Mrs. Seo and your mom hugged you tightly and cried into your shoulder.

“Oh, my sweet baby, I have been waiting for this for years!” your mum wiped a tear from her eyes.

Hold on… years? The pieces of the puzzle quickly clicked together in your mind and you gasped.

“Wait… were you deliberately late to the restaurant after the semi-final game?!”

_______________________________________________________________________

Later, when you were in Johnny’s arms and watching a movie you slapped him in the chest.

“Ow! Babe, what was that for!” Johnny laughed as he snuggled his face into the crook of your neck.

“I told you earlier I wanted game faces, not meme faces!”