#because i spent a good portion of the book thinking
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@nerves-nebula
25m
see now im curious about your opinion on her.. idk shit about shit (havent read enough yet)
(in reponse to this post)
my opinion about Elizabeth Loftus is largely negative lmao. i think that her work in the area of recovered memories of sexual abuse has been profoundly damaging on a cultural level.
so, Elizabeth Loftus is a researcher who specializes in the area of memory. she's done a lot of work around the reliability of eyewitness testimony in court cases and how witnesses can be led or influenced, which imo IS very good and valuable, i think it's pretty obvious why
however she is ALSO a major figure in the debate about the validity of recovered memories of sexual abuse (in general and also specifically as admissible evidence in court) and her position is that That Doesn't Happen. she has spent a huge chunk of her career fighting against the idea that people can recover memories of csa that they weren't previously consciously aware of.
she was on the scientific advisory board of the False Memory Syndrome Foundation, a group that was created and staffed by people who were accused of sexually abusing their children. notable founding members of the group include the parents of Jennifer Freyd, a researcher who has done a lot of work around repression and recovery of traumatic memories, and who accused her father of having abused her as a child, which spurred him and her mother to found a whole foundation about how anyone who does this is a lying liar who lies.
(check out Freyd's book Betrayal Trauma for her theories about the mechanisms behind repression of childhood abuse)
the False Memory Syndrome Foundation contributed HEAVILY to the still-present social idea that repressed memories are fake, recovered memories are fake, people don't forget trauma, and anyone who claims to have recovered memories of childhood abuse as an adult is either lying on purpose or was misled and had memories implanted into them
(a brief sidebar: there ARE cases where i think it's valid and good to question a therapeutic technique or handling of witnesses. hypnosis therapy is highly unreliable because it puts people into a very suggestible state and then someone they see as an authority figure Suggests Things To Them. a therapist should not try to convince someone they were sexually abused on the basis of vague problems like anxiety and depression. there was a lot of questionable at best handling of child witnesses in the McMartin Satanic ritual abuse case, which is kind of what led to the wider cultural controversy about repressed/recovered memories.
however, i think we can also all see that a group of people who were accused of abusing their children creating a group to invent a syndrome where the primary symptom is "accuses your parents of abusing you EVEN THOUGH WE WOULD NEVER, you lying ungrateful brat" and then being widely believed is, maybe, throwing the baby out with the bathwater when it comes to this sort of thing)
Elizabeth Loftus has done a variety of experiments about the reliability of memory, such as the "lost in the mall" experiment, where researchers were able to get a significant portion of participants to believe a false story about them getting lost in the mall as children, and various ones testing people's ability to reliably recall small details from chaotic or disturbing scenes, like a video of a car crash or the scene of a crime.
she has then extrapolated from the results of these experiments - that people who see a video of a crime, then see a news report of the crime, will mix up facts from both, or that people whose parents tell them they were lost in the mall as a kid will believe they were lost in the mall as a kid - to conclude that it's impossible to accurately remember previously forgotten memories of being abused as a child.
this is all bullshit on a scientific level (i don't think you CAN reasonably extrapolate from her findings to how traumatic memories work, plus there are numerous other studies demonstrating quite clearly that people with 100% externally confirmed histories of sexual abuse can and do forget that it happened)
and also i think it's bullshit on a personal level, because i've had multiple experiences with both suddenly recalling a previously forgotten memory (traumatic AND non-traumatic) at various points in my life without anyone 'suggesting' them to me or 'leading' me to them, AND with getting reliable external confirmation from multiple sources who told the same story quite a while apart that i have forgotten a traumatic event i was present for, and even with being given details about it by multiple people, i still can't remember it happening
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Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks...
I think I have answered this question before, but I don’t mind because I like talking about ny favourite characters!
(And my favourite characters change hourly, so-)
I can’t rank them, I love them all equally, but my current favourites:
1. Luo Binghe from Scum Villain Self-Saving System. I can’t help it. Fanon likes to paint him as comical, at times, but I love how competent he is! He just… would like to be a housewife. Preferably his Shizun’s housewife… and, he is, as Shen Qingqiu says himself, the type of person to smile to your fave while sliding a knife in your back and I love that for him
2. Quan Yizhen from Heaven Official’s Blessing. He throws a bed at Pei Ming. He’s obsessed with his shixiong and beats up his own followers for badmouthing him. He’s smart enough to realize that everyone thinks he’s stupid, therefore he can use obvious tricks because nobody thinks he can fool them. There’s a scene where Xie Lian and Quan Yizhen both praise something for being beautiful (I think it was the Brocade Immortal’s fighting) and even Ling Wen is like “You know I’m trying to kill you right?” He’s great :)
3. Tim Drake from DC Comics. The third Robin, the one most similar to Batman, the world second greatest detective. Can sneak up on Superman and managed to stalk Batman. Was going through a lot and tried to clone his best friend. The quintessential perfectionist. I headcanon that he plans his dates out on corkboards and no one will convince me otherwise. Also, his relationship with Ra’s Al Ghul in his Red Robin run was comedy gold.
4. Artemis Fowl from the books of the same name (I’ve never seen the movie and like to pretend it doesn’t exist). Fakes his own death multiple times and steals gold from fairies and is altogether a criminal mastermind. There’s a scene in the first book where Holly Short (the other main character) tells him to stay put and she’ll bring him back a lollipop (mocking him). She leaves and he mutters “But I don’t like lollipops.” Also gets made fun of for having a girly name, which I can relate to since I was made fun of for having a masculine name.
5. Shen Qiao from Thousand Autumns. God, he’s just the best. He is absolutely infuriating. He has the patience of ten thousand men. Began the book waiting for him to snap, then realized that I didn’t want him to lose his temper because that would make Shen Qiao sad and Shen Qiao deserves all the happiness in the world. His martial brother pushed him off of a fucking mountain. Yan Wushi names a deer after him. Have you ever seen baby Shen Qiao? Qiao-er?? The cutest little fella, the sweetest bean, has never done anything wrong in his life.
6. Marth from the Fire Emblem series. There’s a scene in the remake of the first game where, after you recruit one of the characters during a fight, Marth can talk to him. The character is like “I understand if you don’t trust me.” Marth: “Why wouldn’t I trust you?” “I literally tried to kill you fifteen minutes ago.” Marth: “The past is in the past.” Marth is just the most polite boy. He was the first male character to be included in the FEH Bridal Event and he is… so cute…
7. Mara Jade from Star Wars. Specifically Mara Jade in the Thrawn trilogy. She is loyal to Karrde because he was nice to her. She wants to kill Luke so bad, but she can’t because if she doesn’t find out why he’s so weird before she kills him, she’ll never be at peace. Darth Vader’s coworker. “Who’s this “son of Vader” you keep mentioning?” -Mara Jade, while sitting next to the son of Vader they keep mentioning. Mirrors Anakin and I just love that for her (especially since he went good -> evil and she went evil -> good, they mirror each other babeyyy) She’s like “Are you sure you don’t want me to murder this creepy old guy?” The straightman in her and Luke’s relationship and it is so funny that the literal ex-Dark Jedi is the normal one.
8. Hiwatashi Nazuna from BNA. She is in love with Michiru. Anyone else: “Your agent is weird.” Nazuna: “Shut up you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Michiru: “Your agent is weird.” Nazuna: “You make a great point and I’m going to start distancing myself from him right away.” The trickiest trickster to ever trick trickers. She is willing to kill for Michiru and it’s honestly very relatable.
9. Kudou Shinichi from Detective Conan. The dumbest man alive. Also the most dramatic man alive. Obsessed with Sherlock Holmes and infodumps about him constantly. Is terrible at pretending to be a child, literally nobody is convinced, but Conan is so cute, how can they say no to him? Has the strongest moral compass of any character (aside from maybe Shen Qiao) and the world is lucky his moral compass is so strong, because if he decided to be evil, no one would be able to stop him. My favourite moments are the ones where innocent little Conan-kun smiles and says horribly dark things that even make the murderer scared. Absolutely terrifying, at seventeen and seven, good for him.
10. Tianlang-jun from Scum Villain Self-Saving System. I know it’s another character from Scum Villain, but hear me out. He is absolutely insane. He decides to destroy the world because everyone thought he wanted to. He barters with Su Xiyan over how attractive his face is. He asks Zhuzhi-lang if he thinks he’s ugly. He is a pure-hearted innocent maiden and also the most powerful character in the book. He only loses to Binghe because he was stuck under a mountain for over a decade, and his body is rejecting his demonic qi and falling apart. He makes a coffin look like a throne and is intimidating as fuck, then asks Shen Qingqiu to help him up and his arm pops off. And he just says “Dang. It happened again, Zhuzhi-lang.” My favourite red herring of all time, I just want to pat-pat his head.
These are the current ones. Shout-out to Yan Wushi from Thousand Autumns, who spends the entire novel fucking with Shen Qiao then has the terrible realization that he fell in love with Shen Qiao. Also, he made a very convincing woman. Also also, as I was looking through my notes on Thousand Autumns, I was reminded that he has the truly remarkable ability to ruin Shen Qiao’s reputation without even being present. Amazing! Second shout out to Bai Rong, also from Thousand Autumns, who gets a crush on Shen Qiao and offers to become his sugar daddy. A lot of characters try to seduce Shen Qiao, but Bai Rong was my favourite because she was just so… cute about it.
I like a lot of characters… Thank you for your ask :)
#elaine2895#ask#long post#had to mention bai rong and yan wushi#because i spent a good portion of the book thinking#‘god if only shen qiao was straight life would be so much easier for him’#yan wushi is very good at seduction i promise#if by seduction you mean making people want to strangle him in his sleep#also special third shout out to yu shengyan#who showed up at the beginning of the novel#left for over half of it#and came back with absolutely no idea what was happening#also has the ability to attract daoists#he found shen qiao and yuan ying man#he’s so talented#the inane ramblings of a madman
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valentine's day (nerdrry x camgirl!yn)
word count: 3.5k
content warnings: smut! (exhibitionism, toys/bondage, daddy kink, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, overstimulation)
original nerdrry x camgirl!yn story
masterlist | talk to me
patreon
. . .
Most mornings, Y/N can’t remember where she fell asleep the night before.
It’s not because she’s a bad sleeper or has chronic insomnia or anything like that. In actuality, in the past few months that she and Harry have officially started their relationship, they find it nearly impossible to be apart for the night. Y/N hates waking up without feeling his warm body pressed up against hers, his chest curled into the form of her back and his arm looped around her waist, while Harry dreads the feeling of her cold, unmade side of the bed when she’s not there.
So, even with warnings of codependency tucked into the logical portions of their brains, they try not to worry. Instead, they enjoy winter evenings made just a tad bit toastier with the presence of the other: Fuzzy socks and steaming cups of tea, bubble baths and eucalyptus soap-scented kisses, soft palms pressed against one another as they read their respective books in a bedroom bathed in a soft golden light.
It’s good — Y/N thinks it’s all really good, and she’s really happy, and she doesn’t care that it’s Valentine’s Day because every other day that she’s spent with Harry has her walking around with hearts in her eyes, even if her friends tease her over it. But Harry is Harry and he does care — he cares a lot, actually.
He promises her he won’t go all out. She even makes him wrap his pinkie around hers and pledge not to get scammed by buying expensive, overpriced flowers and chocolates. And he doesn’t — he listens to Y/N and opts for a far more lowkey version of what he had envisioned for her.
But right now, Beatrice, his sweet, gray haired cat, is ruining it.
Beatrice is ruining it!
“Bea,” Harry hisses. The cat’s eyes barely blink open and she stays firmly placed on top of Y/N’s chest, where she’s apparently decided to take real estate this morning. “Beatrice Styles, get down!”
He’s trying his best not to speak too loudly to avoid waking Y/N before her surprise, but his hands are full so he can’t scoop Beatrice up and nudge her tush out of the room like he normally does. (Y/N hates having sex with her in the room, explaining that it’s guaranteed to scar her “poor, innocent eyes”, so both Harry and Beatrice are used to the routine by now.) And perhaps this is payback for all the times he’s kicked her out because he swears he’s never seen her so stubborn before.
“Beatrice Stevie Styles, if you don’t get down right now—”
“Are you threatening your cat?”
Harry huffs when he hears Y/N’s croaky morning voice rasp out from above the covers. He shuffles to the edge of the bed and gently puts down the tray he’s holding and leans forward to grab Beatrice’s plump body.
“No,” he mutters, “She just chose a very inopportune time to be… evil.”
Y/N hums non-committedly as Harry places Beatrice down. She hasn’t yet cracked her eyes open, which sends a bolt of excitement through his chest — he still has a chance at surprising her.
“Keep your eyes closed please,” he says as he curls his hands through the wooden handles of the tray.
“To be honest, I think I kind of liked having her on my chest— it was like a soft, suffocating weight. Almost like a weighted blanket, maybe?”
“Y/N,” Harry warns, and she peeps an eye open to see her boyfriend hovering over her, “Y/N! Didn’t I say to keep your eyes closed?”
“Oh! Still?”
He sighs, flashing her an annoyed look before lowering slightly to show her the array of breakfast foods diligently placed over the maple-hued wood: heart shaped pancakes, fruit cut into stars, her favorite tea in a mug with her initial on it. It instantly makes her grin, sitting up hurriedly against the blue velvet of Harry’s headboard.
“This is so sweet,” she coos, looking up at him with a wide smile. The frustration sitting in Harry’s body instantly melts away and he grins back at her, heart squeezing slightly at the tired puffiness in her eyes. “Thank you so much, H. This is perfect.”
“Yeah?” he asks as he slowly places the board down. She moves her book out of the way so he has room on the nightstand. “I know you said nothing big, so…”
“So this is perfect,” she emphasizes. She scooches over and pats the empty spot next to her, encouraging him to lay down next to her. “Happy Valentine's Day. I’m sorry Beatrice and I ruined your big surprise.”
Harry snorts, grabbing the small bowl of fruit and handing it to her. She accepts it graciously and pops a strawberry between her lips before feeding him a blueberry.
“She’s been getting naughtier lately. I think you’re inspiring some bad female energy I didn’t know she had.”
“Or maybe you were just stifling her energy,” Y/N points out, “She needed a cool camgirl in her life to bring it out.”
“Right,” he mumbles playfully and Y/N giggles, elbowing his ribs lightly.
“Speaking of which. You’re still fine with me streaming tonight?”
He shrugs as he leans over to grip her mug, carefully maneuvering the full cup of tea. He sets it on his lap, welcoming the warm feeling between his palms.
“It doesn’t bother me at all, baby. You know that.”
It’s the truth, too — Harry’s willing to recognize that streaming is part of her lifestyle. It’s more than just a job for her, especially considering her 9 to 5 position as a graphic designer is still rather lackluster. In the months that they’ve dated, they’ve had many conversations about it: why she liked streaming and had no plans to give it up, mainly. She viewed it as a form of sexual freedom and autonomy over her own body and the money certainly sweetened the deal. Who was Harry to argue with that?
The only thing that’s changed is her schedule. Since bringing someone new into her life — someone who she cared for and wanted to spend time with — she revised her daily streams to three times a week. She also posted additional photos and videos for members to supplement both the income she was losing, and the content her viewers weren’t getting.
Valentine’s Day is different, though. She’d asked Harry a few weeks back if he cared if she went online that day and honestly, he didn’t. He knows that if he didn’t have her, he would probably look to watching her stream to feel just a little less lonely. And while he wasn’t entirely too keen on sharing his girlfriend with the world, he also knew that they were committed to one another. They were grateful for that stupid website and her dedication to it, otherwise they never would have met.
“I just feel bad,” she says with a sigh, referring to her plan to stream this evening, “Feel like I’m making a fucked up choice.”
Harry shakes his head. “It’s not like we have plans or anything, and you know I’m fine with it. Don’t feel bad.”
Y/N hands him the bowl so she can curl into his side. He welcomes her, eagerly wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her hair.
“It’ll just be a few hours and then you can come over and spend the night,” he murmurs, ducking his thumb beneath the fabric of her tee-shirt to rub circles into the skin. “Or I can come to you if you’re too tired. Whatever works.”
That seems to light a spark in her brain because she’s suddenly sitting back up. Harry’s staring at her and trying not to smile at her wild bed head, but the slightly thrilled look in her eyes is a bit distracting anyway.
“Remember that time we talked about you being with me while I stream?”
Harry raises his eyebrows slowly.
“Like, being in the room with me… telling me what to do… you remember that, right?”
He clears his throat. “Yeah, I remember that.”
“What if we do that?” she asks, shifting onto her knees. “You don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable. But you could be behind the camera and you could just… I don’t know, dominate me from there. Is that hot? Or is it a stupid—”
“Hot,” he cuts her off before coughing into his hand. “Definitely hot.”
She grins. “You think so? We could use that toy I got us forever ago, too. From when we met.”
His chest starts to feel warm as he nods eagerly. “T-The vibrator?”
“Yeah!” she nods excitedly. “So you can control it while I’m streaming, too. Does that sound okay?”
He swallows tightly and tries to will away the hardness thickening up in his briefs.
“I like that a lot.”
“Okay,” she’s smiling at him widely, completely unaware of just how appealing the situation sounds to him. She leans forward to press a light kiss to his lips. “Do you wanna finish breakfast and then shower? I have to be at the office—”
Suddenly, he’s pinning her down against the array of messy blankets scattered over the bed, a sinful smirk on his lips.
“I want you to shut up and let me fuck your face so I don’t accidentally bust when I spend my whole day thinking about tonight.”
She’s giggling loudly, the sound of sunshine and bells chiming in the wind, before dropping her mouth open.
. . .
Y/N spends way too much time tying a heart-shaped shibari harness around her chest, but it’s entirely worth it the second Harry sees her that evening.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, drinking her appearance in. His throat instantly dries as his eyes scan over her lacy pink lingerie set and she warms beneath his gaze, nibbling on her bottom lip.
“Do you like it?” she asks, pushing her chest out slightly.
“Do I like it?” he repeats breathily, running the pads of his fingertips down the length of her chest. He tucks his knuckles beneath the vertical rope and tugs lightly, making her gasp. “You look incredible, baby.”
“Thank you,” she giggles, intertwining her fingers with his free hand, “Are you still feeling alright about this?”
He nods and she smiles, guiding him over to her streaming setup in her spare room. She bounces down on the futon and squeezes his hand. He’s never been on this side of things before, so he has to admit that it’s fascinating and exciting to see it all from her perspective instead of a private tab on his phone.
They discuss the logistics of things before she clicks ‘live’, mainly just in case either one of them gets uncomfortable and wants to stop. In lieu of a safe word, they settle on a motion of tugging their ear three times to signal that they no longer wanted to take part. They decide that Y/N would immediately log off and they would discuss what went wrong — but if both of them are being honest, they’re both bubbling with excitement.
And, with her toy on and ready to go, Harry perched on a chair behind her laptop, Y/N starts her stream.
He swallows nervously and she sends him a wink, a silent, flirtatious reassurance that everything will be just fine. She nibbles on her lip as she waits for the chat room to fill up, a small smile forming as messages begin to float in.
“Happy Valentine’s Day my loves,” she greets cheekily, shifting onto her knees. Her heels dig into her bum as she wiggles excitedly, glancing up at Harry. His tongue peeks out to lick his lips as his eyes scan over her chest and down to her covered core, zeroing in on where her vibrator is inserted firmly inside of her. He palms himself through his briefs as she makes small talk with her viewers.
She leans back and splits her thighs open to reveal a string of lace barely covering her pussy. He swallows back a groan.
“Are you excited to watch me play?” Y/N asks, eyes flickering to the male sitting across from her. It wasn’t her plan, but she can’t help ignoring the chats coming through, instead too enamored by the fact that her boyfriend is watching her. And, as if he can read her mind, Harry nods before mouthing the words touch your tits.
Immediately, she does as she’s told. She pulls the fabric of her bralette down and swirls a finger in her mouth. She pinches her nipples and whimpers softly, back arching slightly.
“Know you love my tits, daddy,” she whimpers, her gaze set on Harry, “They’re all yours. Every bit of me belongs to you.”
With a smirk, he pulls the remote to her vibrator out and clicks it on. She instantly moans at the low sensation pressed deep against her g-spot, eyes rolling back from the intense pressure.
“Touch yourself for me,” she pleads, trailing her fingers down her stomach. She plucks at the straps of her underwear and wordlessly looks to Harry for permission. He nods, and not a second later she’s pulling them down her legs and tossing them to the floor. “Shit— do you see how wet I am for you, daddy?”
The chat goes crazy when they see the vibrator inserted deep inside of her. She can feel her pussy already begin to pulsate around the small silicone toy and she reaches out to grip the blanket beneath her. She only glances up when she hears the familiar sound of slick passes, a whimper leaving her lips when she realizes Harry’s jerking his cock to the sight of her falling apart.
“So good,” she moans, their eyes locked. He stares at her intensely, his gaze only turning her on even more. “Can I touch my clit, please? N-need more.”
Beg, he mouths.
“Please, daddy— fuck, please let me touch my clit, daddy!”
He smirks as he squeezes the base of his length. “Go ahead.” He murmurs lowly, quiet enough so only she can hear him.
Y/N makes hurried motions to circle her clit tightly, whimpering loudly from the much needed stimulation. Her eyes are shut tightly when he turns her vibrator up another notch, eliciting a sharp gasp on her end.
“Oh my god,” she mewls, “I’m gonna cum— fuck, please, can I cum? Please, please—“
Harry cuts her off with another quiet response: “Ask them, not me.”
She can hardly keep her eyes open long enough to read through the responses coming through the chat. It’s an evil punishment, especially when he turns her vibrator up again. Her legs are shaking as she sits up on her elbows, the slightest bite of pain nearly pushing her over the edge from the rope digging into her chest.
“Please, I need to cum,” she begs pathetically, trying to scan over the messages in the chat:
No!!! Edge urself
Cum for us baby
Go ahead
Such a good girl
It’s too much for her to process — the toy is vibrating aggressively against the soft spot deep inside of her and she can’t hold it in much longer. She moans, unable to keep herself from reaching her peak, her muscles tightening and her pussy pulsating. A slew of curses fall from her lips as she rides her orgasm out, eyes rolling back into her skull.
It’s the most delicious feeling, especially knowing Harry is sitting across from her and watching it all happen. Her eyes flicker up to him for permission to take a break, hoping his thumb is already brushing over the off button on the remote, but instead she’s met with a smirk she knows all too well. He looks borderline sadistic as she gasps, their eyes locked when he turns the toy on even higher.
“Oh,” she breathes out, laying back against the mess of blankets beneath her. At this point, she knows all anyone can see is the mess of arousal between her legs. It’s embarrassing and perfect.
“‘s a lot,” she slurs out. She thinks she hears Harry chuckle but she’s not sure. “Fuck— fuck, I think— have another—“
“You do,” this time she’s sure of his quiet voice, hushed so his words are only for her ears. “You have another one in there for me.”
Her knees are bent and knocking together as she wedges her hands between her thighs. She has to do something to ground herself; a half-assed attempt at mitigating the intense pleasure filling her body.
“Inside,” he commands from across the room. She moans, but only because he’s asking more of her. “Put your fingers inside or don’t touch yourself at all.”
She chooses the former because it somehow seems easier, quickly pushing two fingers into her pulsating hole alongside the small vibrator. Harry fills her up more than this but the knowledge of what she’s doing as his direction is incredibly hot. It doesn’t matter that she’s taken more and abused her pussy far more than this before — especially not when she’s a desperate submissive for Harry, willing to do whatever he asks of her.
The slight stretch of her pussy feels delicate and delicious and she can barely gurgle out the words I’m coming before it’s happening. Harry groans at the sight, slicking himself and pumping faster as her ribbon unravels, a small burst of liquid gushing from the movements of her fingers.
As soon as her peak slowly begins to taper off, she’s too exhausted to notice him rise from his seat. She gasps when he shuts her laptop closed before she even has a chance to say goodbye to her viewers. Instead, he leans down to wrap his hand around the rope secured around her chest, pushing her down against the soft fabric of the couch.
“You’re gonna take my cum all over that dirty little pussy,” he growls, pumping his cock quickly in his palm. She’s too stunned and turned on to reply so she quickly nods her head, parting her pussy lips with v-shaped fingers. The toy is still vibrating inside of her, sending aftershocks through her body.
“Good fucking girl,” he grumbles throatily. The sight of her wet center is enough to send him barreling to his orgasm, a series of groans toppling from his mouth as he sprays his seed across her pussy. “Fuck, there you go, baby, take it all.”
She whimpers at the feeling of his warm cum painting her core. As soon as he finishes, she makes quick work to yank the vibrator out, her body entirely too exhausted and overstimulated to stand it for another second.
Harry’s panting loudly as he lowers to his knees and presses a few light kisses to her thigh. He catches his breath as she runs her fingers through his curly hair, coming down from her own influx of lust. She’s unsure of how long they stay like that but eventually, Harry stands up to kiss her forehead.
“Gimme a sec to clean you up,” he murmurs. She nods, allowing her eyes to fall shut. A few moments later, he returns with a damp towel and gently swipes over her core. They settle into a comfortable silence as he does so, and he lays down next to her when he’s finished. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her sleepy form into his side. Exhausted, she allows him to maneuver her.
“Did you have a good Valentine’s Day?” He asks softly. Y/N hums as she buries her head into the crook of his neck.
“The best,” she murmurs, “How about you?”
“The best.” He echoes with a small smile. The quiet returns but neither of them want to fill it. He thinks she’s fallen asleep, assuming he’ll have to help guide her to the shower (which she’ll give him shit about, surely) when she shifts a bit, pressing her cheek into the comforter to look at him.
“I love you, you know.”
It's the first time she's said that to him. It feels like a million fireworks are going off, filling him and making it seem as though he's bursting at the seams with the same love and adoration for the girl next to him.
If he's being honest, he thinks he's known he's loved her — and she's loved him — for awhile now: Through small gestures like when he makes her bed in the morning because she's running late for work, or when she quietly fills up Beatrice's bowls with food and water when he's in a meeting. Bigger things, too — her taking the day off for his birthday and doing whatever he wants, all day. Or the time she picked up two of his favorite scent of candle because they were on sale, or when she's had a bad day so he surprises her with her favorite meal (garlic chicken stir fry with extra cilantro) via meal delivery service because he knows she wants to be alone.
"Yeah," he nods with a smile, "I do know. I love you, too."
#writing#nerdrry#harry styles#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles one direction#harry#harry styles fic#harry styles blurb#harry styles one shot#harry styles imagine#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harry styles fic rec#harry styles x you#harry styles angst#harry styles writing#harry styles oneshot#one direction
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sidewalks we crossed [side B: him.] (pt. 1)
this is broken into parts because tumblr has a limit of 1000 blocks.
side A found here!
author's note:
oh goodness. it's been a while.
i really did intend on posting this soon after i published the first part, but then life kind of got in the way. i graduated from grad school, moved to south korea, and have been here since. i'm still a carat, and i really do think about this fanfiction all the time, mainly because this story is truly me bearing my soul to the internet and my friends who have access to the original google doc.
this one is a lot less edited and looked over, but it's because this portion of the fic reminds me of something i'm still in deep grief for. so, for those of you who will read this, i was originally going to have a third installment, but i think i'll leave it at this two. it feels good and true to leave it here.
this was supposed to be published yesterday on seventeen's anni, but i was busy spending time with my korean host family who i've not been able to see that often since moving out :')
maybe i'll write short stories including these two because they are so special to me, but this main story has come to a close. the real final push was jihoon releasing "what kind of future?" officially, the very song that inspired this fic, in honor of his beautiful friend and human, moonbin. bin-ah, i hope you're sailing among the stars and looking over all of those who love you and who you love in return.
and to you, who may be reading this, thank you for being here.
✧⋆°｡☾☼꙳ ੭ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ‧ ⨯ ς(>‿<.). ⁺ ✦ * . ˚ ⨯ ੭ * ‧☼☽⋆｡°✧
tagging @fiantomartell since you asked me to whenever i published this. it's been a long while, but.
pairing: lee jihoon/woozi (seventeen) x f!reader
genre: romance, fluff
summary: an accidental like, an off-chance comment, a purposeful message. you were in an unrequited love with your childhood best friend and decided to run away from him and your feelings and years later you find yourself in the same city with the same feelings when he stalks your instagram.
rating: 13+
length: 30k (bro WHAT LOL)
tags: idol!jihoon, childhood friend!reader, unrequited love (but not really), reconnection through instagram, this is just different scenes pieced together (including a ton of flashbacks), reader’s nicknames are all bug-themed, reader has depression and it manifests as suicidal ideation sometimes, this is basically real life (aka seventeen exists and debuted 150526), but the years are a little bit off for the trainee period, jihoon left busan later and trained for shorter for the sake of my story hehe, cursing, pining, mamamoo + ateez are the besties of reader, member x member pairings, jihoon and reader are both dumbasses, reader is extremely book smart but has one brain cell when it comes to romantic feelings, jihoon writes music like he’s been divorced 12x, word genius lee jihoon, idk how doctoral degrees work, i only got my masters and it was a non-thesis track lol, also idk how trainee auditions work either, miss communication is a lady we all know too well, super cute soft shit too tho tbh, no beta we die like men, i spent 5 hours trying to format this for tumblr and i’m still unsure
inspired by “drivers license” by olivia rodrigo and “what kind of future?” by woozi
inspo spotify playlist found here!
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side b: him.
The rapid beating in his chest drowned out the slam of the door behind him as he rushed down the stairs of your home, desperate to just get away as soon as possible. Your parents weren’t home, so he didn’t have to worry about looking like an absolute fool in front of them.
You knew. You fucking knew.
You knew how much he was in love with you and this was your way of rejecting him.
He was stupid, so stupid. If he just put his feelings aside then you wouldn’t leave. You wouldn’t have to leave. But this was all his stupid hormones and brain chemistry and his fucking heart. He knew that it wouldn’t pan out. You never saw him as anything more than just a dear friend, a brother. You made that clear.
Since the beginning, your pinkies intertwined promised a forever, but you both had different ideas of what that was. And he was stupid to believe there was a chance.
He ran.
He ran so far and so hard that he couldn’t make sense of left or right or forward or backward. All he knew was that he needed to get away from you.
But he couldn’t.
He passed by Old Man Park’s home with a winding tree you were convinced held fae people that would only come out when the entire town was asleep (there was a 50km radius, you said).
He ran by the rusted bars of the playground you two snuck off to instead of going to cram school where you attempted a flip and promptly landed on the crown of your head, wood chips tangling themselves into your hair, tears mixed with laughter and pain streaming down your cheeks.
The library where you would spend more time in the children’s section than anywhere else because you would practice your ‘reading voice’ for your future children’s bedtime stories.
The baseball field where the realization that he was in love with you hit him harder than any fastball pitch ever could.
You were everywhere.
And he needed to get away.
He went to your house to share the news of passing the trainee audition, that was the whole purpose of seeing you.
However, that wasn’t the only thing he planned on confessing.
If you asked him to stay, he would have.
But instead, you rejected him before he even got one word out.
So, he packed his bags up for Seoul, a place untarnished by you. A city that not even your light could reach, no matter how radiant you were.
──────────────────
Years later.
“Jihoon-ah, aren’t you working too hard?”
He glanced up at Jeonghan who was probably let into the studio by Bumzu. Jihoon glanced at the clock to notice a bright 4:02am glaring back at him. “Ah, hyung. I didn’t even notice the time.”
“I figured. I brought you some food.”
Jihoon glanced down at the two bags in his hands. His eyes narrowed. “Hyung, I don’t eat as much as you think I do.”
“I’ve seen you eat three full meals in one sitting. Get away from your desk and we can eat.”
Jihoon sighed before he reluctantly left the seat he hardly moved from for over seven hours. “Thanks.”
“Of course,” Jeonghan replied happily, snapping the wooden chopsticks into two. He started chewing on one of the danmuji, the sound of its crunch reverberating in the studio. “Oh. And also, the wi-fi’s down at the dorm, so.”
“So, you’re here to steal my bandwidth.”
“I brought you food. I paid my toll.”
Jihoon rolled his eyes. “Alright, sure.”
“So, are you in the composing stage or the writing lyrics stage?”
“...Lyrics.”
“Hm. What are you writing about? Or rather, who are you writing about?”
Jihoon stabbed the grilled fish. “...You know who.”
“She’s really got a grip on you, huh.”
Jihoon grunted in response. Obviously.
Jeonghan continued, “I saw that one of the local newsletters interviewed the group home that she volunteers at. She was voted as volunteer of the year. Again. She smiles with her entire body. Seems like a good person.”
The younger of the two picked away at the fish, not bringing it onto his makeshift plate. “Yeah.”
“Do you still stalk her on Instagram?”
Jihoon let out a loud sigh.
“That’s a yes, then.”
“You know it’s not as bad as it used to be. I used to check, like, every few weeks, but now it’s gone down to just a couple times a year.”
“She hasn’t blocked you yet?”
“Hah. I don’t think she even knows that my account is reactivated.”
“Well, you never needed to reactivate before. Her Instagram used to be public. The rest of the members and I used to scroll through wondering how a bright girl like her could be associated with such a deadpan guy like you.”
“Wow. Thanks, hyung.”
Jeonghan merely brushed off Jihoon’s sarcasm, already used to it. “She only made it private this last year, right? Since she complains about her program being out to kill her on her story. To be honest, I’m surprised she didn’t realize you’ve been watching her stories.”
“I don’t think she checks who watches her story since she has over a few thousand followers.”
“She attracts people, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, she always has.”
“Can I see her profile again?”
“You’re not going to do something weird, right?”
“Ey, Jihoon-ah.”
“That makes me really not want to.”
“Ey.”
Jihoon rolled his eyes before pulling out his phone. He opened Instagram and clicked on the “Search” feature and saw your profile appear at the top without even needing to type anything. He signaled for Jeonghan to scoot down the couch so he could sit down and handle the phone in his own hands. Jeonghan peered over his shoulder as he scrolled through your profile.
“Oh, is that Japan?”
“Yeah.”
Jihoon clicked on your post.
But it wasn’t opening.
So, he clicked again. And then again.
And his phone decided to catch up with his thumb’s movements.
The once white heart was now red.
His grip loosened on the device of betrayal and it clattered to the ground. “Oh shit.”
Jeonghan bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. He placed his hand on Jihoon’s shoulder and squeezed slightly. “I’m sorry, but. This is karma for not letting me see her profile on my own.”
“Hyung. Hyung. What should I do?”
“Just unlike it? I’m pretty sure that Instagram doesn’t send a notification as long as you unlike it before she sees it.”
“How do you know?”
Jeonghan shrugged. “Jihoon. It’s not the end of the world if she happens to see it. If she blocks you, then you know, and you end up writing another heartbreak masterpiece—” Jihoon couldn’t even appreciate the comment. “—but. Who knows what’ll happen?”
“...”
“Uh. I’ll just… do it for you, then.”
Jeonghan picked up the phone, facing the screen towards Jihoon, the camera scanning his frozen features to unlock and Jeonghan tapped the red heart to empty it again. He placed the phone back on the younger man’s thigh, but Jihoon remained in the same position as earlier, eyes glazed.
“Jihoon-ah.”
“Hyung.”
“Let’s just wait, yeah? The food’s getting cold. So, let’s finish eating.”
“...Okay.”
──────────────────
Jihoon picked at the rice bowl in front of him, his mind light years away, chest filled with concern for the future. Was auditioning for a company worth it? Even if he started the process now, wouldn’t it still take a while to even hear back?
“Jihoonie.”
His heart constricted once he heard the voice of the person who made him unsure. He caught you blinking owlishly at him. “Y/N.”
“Hrmm. You seem quite a bit down, my friend. You’ve barely touched your first bowl of rice. It’s concerning.”
“Just thinking.”
“Oh, don’t do that. We know that usually ends badly for people.”
“Well, someone between the two of us has to have brain cells.”
“I pride myself in simultaneously never thinking and also being the top student of our school.”
“You work miracles, Y/N.”
“Hey, now I know you’re down because you didn’t call me a flipping nerd. Your best moods are usually accompanied by your worst words.”
“You make me seem like an asshole. You slander me to other people, don’t you?”
“Of course. I can’t have them know just how utterly wonderful and fantastic you are. I’d rather you have that butthole reputation if I get to keep my best friend all to myself. I’m a selfish lady, you know.”
Did you even know how much your words affected him?
“You’re neither selfish nor a lady.”
“Oh, but I am. I’m a selfish lady who’s only checking on you because I refuse to be wrought with worry for the rest of the day. So, come on, Jihoonie. Let’s go play darts.”
“Last time we played you almost stabbed my hand.”
“Your fault for reaching for the board when I was about to own you. Come on. Let’s go. I’ll make a pinky promise with you.”
Jihoon snorted. “Of what?”
“I promise to do whatever you want if you win.”
Jihoon scrunched up his nose in response. You were always so naive with him, trusting him wholly. But a part of him was grateful that you did. He merely sighed and stood up.
He might as well use your promise to his advantage.
──────────────────
“She didn’t block me.”
“Oh, really?” Jeonghan glanced up at Jihoon who suddenly broke the silence.
“Who’s she?” Soonyoung’s ears perked up.
“You know. His firefly,” Jeonghan replied.
“What? Why would she block you?” Seungkwan directed his question at Jihoon, who was simply trying to edit lyrics in his own studio, which was being occupied by several SEVENTEEN members.
“Jihoon accidentally liked one of her posts last night, but we unliked it. Oh, sorry. I unliked it because he was completely frozen.”
“The notification probably didn’t go through,” Seungkwan supplied. “I’m pretty sure unliking a post makes the notification go away.”
Jihoon had set his phone aside earlier in hopes of not constantly checking it. His mind may be unsteady, but he was always self-disciplined.
Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Soonyoung glance down at his own phone screen that buzzed a second prior.
“Oh. Jihoon-ah, she liked one of your posts.”
Before his mind could even catch up, Jihoon flung himself to his phone, his self-discipline be damned. He frantically clicked on the notification and it redirected him to his Instagram page, where he saw your name among the list of likers. He wasn’t sure whether his heart was racing or whether it stopped completely because the buzzing in his ears overtook all of his other senses.
He even ignored the boys’ laughter around him.
“Is… Is social media actually facilitating real connection right now? Are we about to prove all of the ahjussi and ahjumma wrong? Are we about to witness history?”
“Seungkwan-ah.”
“Sorry, Jeonghan-hyung.”
“She… She didn’t block me. She saw me. What is this? What do I do? Do I just ignore it? Or should I let her know I saw it?”
Soonyoung snorted. “Yah, I’ve never seen Jihoon this nervous for any performance ever.”
“His heart’s probably racing more than it did the Golden Disc Awards.”
“WHAT DO I DO.”
“Jihoon-hyung,” Seungkwan started. “I think the first thing you need to do is breathe.”
So, he did. In. Out. In. Out.
After what seemed like years, Soonyoung spoke up. “So… Are you gonna message her?”
Jihoon sat in contemplation for a moment before he decidedly shook his head. “No. It’s time to write a song.”
Soonyoung’s eyebrows rose at that. “You’re gonna go back to work after all of this?”
Jihoon bit his lip. “No. This is gonna be a solo song.”
The corners of Jeonghan’s lips curled up at his dongsaeng. “I’m sure it’ll be beautiful.”
Jihoon nodded almost mindlessly.
Everything about her usually is.
──────────────────
“Jihoonie~ Wake up~”
He groaned loudly under the bed covers.
He heard you snicker, the only warning before you landed with a loud thump as he let out an “oof!” from beneath you.
“Get off me. You weigh like a million pounds.”
Rather than listening, you spread your limbs and trapped the adolescent boy beneath you, nuzzling further into the outer casing of his cocoon. “Nope. Just yesterday you yelled at me for not eating enough when you flung me off of the couch by accident because I stole the remote. So.”
“I’m suffocating. You’re killing your best friend.”
“Oh, but to die with a beautiful girl on top of you, isn’t that the way to go?”
There was a moment of silence where Jihoon contemplated catapulting your entire being off of his bed before, “Pretty sure that’s your dream, you damn pervert,” came his muffled reply.
“Huh. You might be right there.”
“Get! Off!”
His hand easily found your weak point between your first and second rib and you cried out as you toppled down onto his bedroom floor. He emerged from the confines of his sheets with hair sticking up every which way.
You grinned lazily up at his disheveled state and he glared right back at you. “Why are you in my bedroom?”
“Because your mom said to come and get you! We’re going to Muju today, remember? In time for the Firefly Festival!”
“Right. It’s your yearly family reunion.”
“Yes, I will become one with the bugs. My fursona will arise again. Or is it bugsona?”
“Is a buggy better than a furry?”
“You’re asking me to choose between two evils, my dear Jihoonie. Come on, get up. I’m excited to spend an entire weekend with our family.”
It was way too early for his mind to whirr as fast as it did at the simple implication of ‘our’. “Alright, firefly. Get out of my room so I can get ready.”
“Okay! I’ll go help Mama downstairs.”
You were committed to calling Jihoon’s mom as Mama instead of Eomma, as the latter held a tone for you that was nothing less than stressful.
Jihoon smiled at your joy, but stopped when he noticed you freeze in place. “...What?”
You shifted the weight in your feet before speaking. “Mm. Just had a thought. With a smile like yours, who would ever need the summertime?”
You grinned at him while his heart stopped. You always spoke without a care in the world; never carefully crafting your thoughts before speaking them aloud. You were spontaneous. Wild, even. Sometimes it ended with you in some kind of trouble, while other times, like this one, ended with him in trouble instead.
You scurried out of his room before he could respond.
He released a dragged out sigh as he felt his cheeks warm.
Forget summertime.
He wondered whether the earth could be sustained through all of the seasons at the sheer brilliance of your smile.
But he ought to thank the summertime.
Because it meant, every year, without fail, he would wake up to you, he would smell the breakfast you helped his mother cook, he would hop on a plane to travel to a different province and see the night sky alight with hundreds of fireflies, your face aglow with soft awe and wonder.
Yeah.
He needed the summertime.
──────────────────
“What? Jihoon-hyung is talking to the girl that just upped and left him and fled the country?”
“Chan-ah, your wording needs work,” Seungcheol chastised. The other members that were near enough to hear nodded, while others were distracted by their own activities.
Jihoon buried his face in his hands. “Eugh, I don’t even know anymore. It’s not like we’re actually talking; she just reliked one of my posts. It’s like, she went back and let me know that she saw me. But is that supposed to be a warning? Is it supposed to be a white flag?”
The youngest member of SEVENTEEN shrugged. “Hyung, I think that you’re putting a lot of meaning behind something that was just a small gesture.”
“Nah, Chan,” Seungcheol interjected. “Jihoon has been in love with this girl since he was a kid. This is more than just a small gesture, after what she did to him.”
Wonwoo spoke up. “Hey, don’t forget Jihoon was the one who left Busan first.”
The accused groaned.
“Wonwoo, you’re just biased towards her because you think that she and Jihoon would make a good couple and you believe in an ideal love.”
“Hyung, I just think that if Jihoon can write what he writes about her, there’s something there.”
“You romanticist.”
Wonwoo shrugged. “Jihoon-ah, I think you’ve tried to reach her with your words time and time again, but maybe it was never made clear that she was the one it was for. You mentioned that she really thought you were in love with your noona—” Jihoon grimaced at the memory. “—so, maybe she’s just unaware.”
“She can’t be that oblivious,” Soonyoung interrupted. Jihoon knew Soonyoung was almost fiercely protective over him because he was the one who witnessed Jihoon’s aftermath firsthand. Soonyoung may be over-the-top some days, but whenever Jihoon needed it, he would help ground him.
Wonwoo’s eyes flicked between the two of his fellow 96ers. “We were all kids once, Soonyoung. We were all so focused on ourselves we couldn’t really see what was happening around us.”
Soonyoung pursed his lips. “...I guess. Jihoon, what do you think?”
Jihoon stared at his hands. “Does it matter whether she knew back then or not?”
They all collectively raised a brow.
“Whattaya mean?” Seungcheol asked.
“I can make a ton of assumptions about her. That she was actually in love with me and was scared. That she was rejecting me in her own cruel, yet kind, way. That she had no idea and the timing was just completely off. But all of that, I don’t actually know. All I do know is that… I want to see her. And not just from afar anymore. But part of me also hates her. But all of me misses her. I don’t know. I guess I’m just too stupid to figure this out.”
A heavy silence passed over the group.
Soonyoung broke it. “If you’re stupid, then I’m the biggest idiot on this planet.”
“That’s not comforting, that’s just a fact.”
“Hoon, you wound me.”
──────────────────
Award shows were weird.
At first, everything was an out-of-body experience for him and could barely process what was happening. He even couldn’t believe that he and his twelve members managed to earn their matching pinky rings and the right to produce and perform, let alone be nominated for an award. When they went on the stage, they did their best to be as refreshing of idols as they could be.
But it was much more daunting than they were used to.
Their debut year went by, and although there were many nominations, they remained only that.
In middle school, he would often tell you that you had a strange fixation on being number one in your graduating class. He said that he didn’t get it, that being in the top 5 was already something that was admirable.
He would never forget the look you gave him when you said, “One day, you’ll know what it’s like. You’ll know what it’s like to almost have something and then not. It’s the kind of feeling that eats away at you, Jihoon. The feeling of, ‘But what if I did more?’”
He merely rolled his eyes and called you dramatic.
That is, until he experienced it firsthand.
The first time ever was when he was doing a music competition for clarinet and compared himself to his bandmate, who received several achievements while Jihoon found that he simply didn’t have the body to be able to hold the same lung capacity.
Then he felt it: that driving force.
You both pushed yourselves further, to higher heights.
And it ended with him sick and bedridden.
And you, heartbroken and unsure of life.
The two of you would reprimand each other for trying too hard, but even with accountability, that envy, that desire for an indisputable win, that fear of failure, would still sneak its way into you both. You, with your academics. Him, with his musical endeavors.
For several years after their debut, at award shows, Jihoon would clap, the rhythmic beating of his hands echoing that in his chest, his smile lined with bitterness, his ears rang with the whispered voices.
‘Those people didn’t deserve it. You worked so much harder. These people don’t even produce their own music. Or maybe it’s because they have real producers and composers, unlike you. Who are you to think you deserve that award?’
One night, after another show of no wins, he collapsed onto his bed, unlocking his phone, intent on watching an anime episode before falling asleep. His members were discouraged and no one wanted to discuss what more they could even do.
Even if they did everything right, maybe it still would never be good enough.
When he opened up the YouTube app on his phone, he saw a recommended video. Your name written out in English caught his eye and he realized it was Part II of a podcast you had done with the channel before. It was a Korean-American podcast and you would share your experiences in the Korean language, connecting with your culture despite being in a foreign country.
Before he could think about what he was doing, he clicked on it, hoping to find comfort in a person he always had, in someone he probably always would.
Several minutes in and he realized just how thick that red string must be between the two of you.
“You know, I thought I undid a lot of my perfectionism before coming to college. Korea is the birthplace of comparison and pressure, I’m sure of it. It was ingrained into me from childhood. So, I did what I could. I got out. Learned to broaden my horizons. But when you attend a school like Yale, your environment really just kinda forces you to be perfect just so that you can survive. Because if you’re not, then you’re cut.”
He thought back to his trainee days.
To his current days.
How similar.
“I remember being at an event where we were being presented awards for our achievements. I remember that I was in the running for one of them, and I won’t say which one so this doesn’t come back to bite me. But at this one event, I remember no other guests were invited, only the nominees and peers in the same field. And when they announced the winner, everyone applauded, of course. However, I won’t ever forget the sight that I saw.”
You chewed on your lips, gazing upward trying to find the right words to say, a habit you’ve had for years.
“The winner had the biggest grin on their face, proud of themselves, as they are allowed to be. But when they turned back to the crowd? I think they saw something. I think they saw that our smiles were forced, that we were judging them, judging ourselves, trying to determine whether they actually deserved the recognition or whether we should have been the ones to win. And… their smile faltered. It was quick, but it was noticeable. And I think the only reason why it even faltered was because it was only those of us who were nominated or could have been. Like, it’s easy to cheer on someone for a prize that you didn’t want, but as soon as you have stakes in the game? Well. That’s a whole different story. But when they lost that smile, it felt like something shattered.”
Your eyes welled up with tears, but they didn’t fall.
“They say it’s lonely at the top. I haven’t been there in a long time, but. I don’t even know if that’s where I want to be. These people have done super cool things, and who’s to say that I would’ve gotten the same results if I had tried? And maybe, maybe they have enough competitors. Maybe they need someone who celebrates them. Someone who knows the hardships of working in this field. And maybe that’s what I can do. I just want to do what I love and what I love doing is social work. Celebrating other people. Learning their stories. Not saving the world, but trying to make it into one that might be worth saving. If I happen to get recognized because of doing those things and they give some kind of trophy for it, then alright. But that’s just a byproduct of the greatest award I’ve already given myself, which is just letting myself do what I love.”
And those were words he carried with him as he went to bed that night.
When they won their first award. Their first Bonsang. Their first Daesang.
Award shows were weird.
It was all about performance.
Performing on stage, prepped through sound-check, clean-cut choreography, and pre-recorded live vocals to grab the audience’s attention.
Performing when at their designated table, giving reactions at a timely rate for both the fancams and large screen cameras.
Performing when behind the stage, being the best hoobae or sunbae they needed to be, adapting to whatever situation they may be placed in.
He knew how to perform. He was good at it.
It was why he’s in this industry.
But there are some things that don’t warrant worrying about an audience.
As he watched the seven members of BTS walk towards the stage, reaching for their Daesang. He clapped to match the rhythm in his chest, sure and steady, at ease. His smile, genuine and wide. The voice in his head, not unlike yours mixed with his own, provided gentle comfort.
‘They deserved it. They worked hard, just like you did. Their ability to collaborate with other musicians is astounding. It would be an honor to work with them. And you, too, have won, you’ve given yourself the greatest award by continuing to do what you love.’
──────────────────
Jihoon once again found himself at the recording studio, however, at a more reasonable time. He was trying to finalize all of the details on the songs for their comeback album, so he was spending his days in the recording studio and ending it in the dance studio, fully exhausted to where he would only have enough energy to shower and trudge back to his bedroom, just to pass out on his bed.
He heard the door to his room open but didn’t make an effort to turn around.
“How’s the song coming along?”
“The album is nearly complete—”
“No, the solo one.”
Jihoon finally glanced up at Seungcheol who now stood beside him. “I haven’t had as much time to work on it. Why?”
“No, I just wanted to check in with you.”
“You’re a good leader, hyung,” he said quietly.
Seungcheol clicked his tongue. “Of course, I am. But I’m mostly just curious because you’ve never written a song about her specifically that only had you singing it.”
“…that’s not true.”
“What? Which one?”
“The first song I ever wrote.”
“Oh what? What was it?”
Jihoon shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s an old song that I think only I remember anyway, plus, I only had vocals at the time. No instruments or anything.”
“…huh. What was it about?”
──────────────────
You wiped your snot away from your face, unable to differentiate between mucus and tears. Your unrelenting sobs weakened to light shudders.
His voice carried from above you, his hand entangled in your messy knots as he rubbed soothing circles against your temple. You curled yourself further into the tear-stained pillow he so lovingly dubbed, “Y/N’s Breakdown Headrest” which also doubled as “Y/N’s Punching Bag” when your emotions were forged from fire and not a dam that couldn’t hold anymore of the taunts and cruelty from your own parents.
His thigh was a mere hair’s breadth away from grazing the top of your head. He had a tendency to bounce his leg, one you continuously called him out on, but he wouldn’t ever stop his bad habit.
That is, unless you needed him to.
And he always gave you what you needed.
So, he sang to you a song of hopes and dreams and the magic of forever and always. Lyrics of never-ending friendship and pinky promises.
──────────────────
Jihoon paused, wondering how you comforted yourself now, wondering if you now had a Breakdown Headrest 2.0, before he spoke again. “It’s about what all the songs I write are about. Love. Although, more lowkey, not as direct.”
“Love and her are synonymous to you, aren’t they?”
“She’s the one who taught me most of it,” Jihoon said nonchalantly. “A truly honest and genuine form of it.”
“Wow, how romantic of you,” Seungcheol laughed.
Jihoon rolled his eyes. “I’m letting you know I only have the patience to tolerate all of you guys because of her. She believes it’s her divine mission to be as annoying as possible.”
“She sounds terrifying.”
“Yeah, she’s taught me how to be patient and remain calm. But she was also incredibly patient with me. Honestly, it feels like all the things that make me likable are all from her.”
Seungcheol made a “oOooOooOOOooOOooo~” noise before Jihoon got fed up and kicked him out. Of course, his reprieve was short lived as more and more members flocked into his room, a constant moving traffic of his twelve brothers.
He imagined you meeting them.
With Seungcheol, you would probably tease him relentlessly, trying to come up with new names for the S. Coups game, while also thanking him for being so protective and steadfast, praising him for his taste in emo music and asking him to sing My Chemical Romance with you.
With Jeonghan, you both would sneak off to devise plans on how to create chaotic dynamics in between the members and cause more infighting while eating stolen snacks or spend hours just sitting around, doing fuck all, because why not.
With Jisoo, you both would speak in English (with you affectionately calling him by his English name “Joshua!”), sharing music as well as probably arguing between Los Angeles and New York, since that was a common feud topic Jisoo brought up.
With Jun, you would try to get as many reactions out of him as possible or get him to write down the list of all of the authentic Chinese restaurants around Korea or you would sit with him at a piano and watch as he played OSTs to Chinese dramas, applauding all the while starry-eyed.
With Soonyoung, you both would either be each other’s soulmates or the banes of each others’ existence, both fiery and passionate; however, you were always good at matching the energies of those around you, so you would let him ebb and flow while you merely followed, likely to call him, “Hoshingi,” just as Jeonghan does, and you would probably love caring for him the same way you did with elementary school students.
With Wonwoo, you would watch him play his PC games, probably in awe of his prowess or you would discuss lyricism and poetry, both exchanging flowery words for no reason as you would try to pick his brain as to what really lies beneath the surface, whether he truly is as straightforward as he seems, and be intensely satisfied that he simply is as he is.
With Seokmin, likely to sweetly call him “DK~”, you would ask him to sing for you since you loved Broadway style voices, and since you both were so generous with your kindness, there would be no doubt that the two of you would somehow manage to start up a non-profit that manages to eradicate all the bad in the world.
With Mingyu, you would discuss filming and the latest movies to watch and you would ask him how he finds the motivation to do many different hobbies at once especially when busy with being an idol; you would probably try to trick him into listening to you tell ghost stories as if they happened to you.
With Minghao, you would share your favorite poets and philosophical ideas, sharing the life lessons that you two have learned and realized you managed to hack life’s code at a younger age than most, you both realized the real importance of being alive: contentment and love.
With Seungkwan, you would probably be laughing so hard at his wit that you wouldn’t have much time to breathe, you would try to figure out how exactly he managed to memorize so much information surrounding K-Pop and why exactly he was so passionate about it or if neither of those, you would ask him if he could get you the plug for those Jeju hallabong oranges.
With Hansol, you would call him “Vernonz,” since you loved names that began with the letters V and Z, and ask him about his parents once you found out they were both artists, and you two would definitely discuss the effects of late-stage capitalism and social media on humanity.
With Chan, you would do your best not to baby him, but you hold a lot of fondness for those younger than you, you would try to figure out how he is so particular about his attention to detail and whether it is something that is pressuring him (and if there was some way you could alleviate it).
He imagined you there, integrated into his life again. He imagined you showing authentic interest in every one of his precious members, unlike most interviewers they would be forced to interact with every comeback. You would learn all of their names, find out their favorite foods, the best way to make everyone collectively laugh, and ultimately, how to help all of them feel comfortable around you and inevitably love you.
And once they did, he could say that his most beloved people were finally all together.
He fell in love with you, but you’re the one who taught him how to walk into it with his eyes wide open. So, he did it with his members. It took practice, having to actively choose them. With you, it may have always been a choice, but it was as natural as breathing, even if there were times he felt like he was being suffocated (or wanted to suffocate you).
He remembered the first time he became aware of it. Most people talk about how love comes, there was always talk about rose-tinted glasses and how it softened the world around them, unable to forget the brilliant smile on their face, but no. You always shattered expectations.
From anyone else’s standards, his realization came at an inopportune time. But it was so clear. It wasn’t as though you had sparkles around you as you emitted a warm glow, it wasn’t as though your hair was perfectly touched up with no strand out of place, it wasn’t as though you were perfectly dolled-up with eyes lined and lips colored. No. It was just… you.
And that's when he knew.
Because there was no filter to block the sheer clarity he was hit with when he finally accepted he was in love with you.
──────────────────
When Jihoon saw your crying form, a slurry of words filled with concern and instructions were the only thing leaving his mouth as he packed his things up. He only deviated once he gave a quick farewell to his noona who left with her dad.
Jihoon bit his lip. Would you be okay? Maybe he’ll just rush home now and shower then call you later at night. Or maybe he should go prepare his bedroom if you decide to visit. Yes. He should do that.
Jihoon turned on his heel to make his way back home, his newfound mission resounding in his mind.
However, your cousin’s voice reached his ears, “Wait—Jihoon, I can give you a ride.”
He looked back at him, saw the way your shoulders still trembled, and shook his head firmly. His fist clenched, the baseball preventing his nails from biting into his palms. He spun it once. Twice. And up into the air.
“Here, firefly.”
You caught it by instinct.
Your gaze met his.
He felt his heart ache at the sheer brokenness apparent in your eyes, rimmed with red and puffed skin. He grit his teeth. He hasn’t seen you cry this hard since the day your parents told you that your number two class ranking was nothing to be proud of and that they expected more from you.
His jaw clenched so hard, he heard an audible bite.
“Why are you giving me this?”
Your voice sounded so soft, like a child. A visceral instinct within him wanting to lull you into a peaceful rest with a lullaby.
But he wouldn’t do that.
Because that would be embarrassing.
(That was a future Jihoon problem.)
“It’s your win today.”
He much preferred the look of confusion on your face to the look of agony you held just a few moments ago.
“Huh?”
He swallowed thickly, his brain unable to keep up with the words tumbling from his mouth. “Even when you feel like you’ve lost, even when you feel like you have nothing to gain, just the fact that you’re still here, that’s a win. So. Scream. Cry. You can do what you want. It’s your win.”
Your gaze trailed down to the baseball, too large to wrap your fingers around entirely. It was probably much denser than you thought it would be, the weight foreign in your hands, unlike his.
You sniffled.
A soft smile formed on your lips.
And Jihoon realized he preferred that look on your face than any other he’s seen.
Pretty.
He rapidly turned on his heel before he even gave a second to try and unpack that thought.
The weight of his baseball gear was really doing a number on his heart, he realized belatedly.
That night, he didn’t prepare his room. He didn’t even call you.
(Not that you reached out.)
He merely stared up at his ceiling, his heart in a constant flux of rapidly beating or stopping completely.
He groaned loudly as he played through the day’s earlier events, thinking himself stupid for giving you a fucking baseball. You don’t even like sports. Did he think he sounded cool when he said all of that cringey stuff?
It’s your win?
But despite the feeling of wanting to curl in on himself, he couldn’t help but still agree with his earlier self.
You did win his heart, after all.
(He threw his pillow at the wall.)
──────────────────
“You’ve been liking her posts more easily.”
Jihoon merely grunted as he tapped away at his computer, Soonyoung on the couch beside him. “I decided to just… stop overthinking. Well, more like just stop thinking in general. I’m too tired to try and pretend I’m smarter than I actually am.”
Soonyoung raised an eyebrow. “You got it bad for her.”
Jihoon glared at him, who was scrolling through his (Jihoon’s) phone. “Be careful what you say. For the amount of songs that are about her, she covers basically 60% of your salary.”
Soonyoung laughed. “Guess I owe her a lot, huh? If she didn’t up and leave, you wouldn’t have come here and we would’ve never met. So, I guess I’m grateful to her. Plus. She’s cute.”
“She’s more than that.”
“Yeah. I can tell,” Soonyoung went quiet for a moment. “She… A part of me really doesn’t want to trust her. I keep remembering that day, you know. Where you just… didn’t seem like yourself. Barely there—” Jihoon cringed at the recalled memory. “—but she also just seems so genuine that it makes it hard. I want to be your bro, you know? Bro code and all—”
“I never asked you to do that.”
“—And I’m nothing if not a bro. But I don’t think you’re the type of person to be hung up on someone who’s not trustworthy. Like. You lose interest in people easily if you don’t see them on a regular basis. But her? It’s been years, bro.”
“Okay, bro.”
“Just letting you know I support you in your decisions,” Soonyoung stated, but there was an edge to his voice that sounded as though he was trying to convince himself more than Jihoon. “If she’s really who you say she is. If she’s the one who’s captured that stubborn heart of yours. Then I’ll do everything I can to help you out—Oh, she posted again. Wow. She posts often and yet still gets over a thousand likes. It hasn’t even been a day. Oh wow!”
Jihoon twitched but tried not to show his eagerness. “What?”
“They’re doing a donation drive for the group home that she works with. Ey, how can someone who does volunteer work to help kids and teens be a bad person? Jihoon, are you kidding me?”
“Young-ah, you’re the one who said it, not me—”
“So close-minded, Hoon.”
Jihoon rolled his computer chair over to Soonyoung, snatched his phone back, and smacked the annoying gnat’s hand in the process. Soonyoung yelped in pain, but laughed it off. He saw your post (noticed that Soonyoung ‘liked it for him’) and a figurative lightbulb lit up over his overworked head.
“This looks like something Bumzu-hyung would post on his story. Maybe I can ask him to share it. Oh, but this is her private page. Oh wait. She tagged the group home.”
“Thanks for the play-by-play.”
Jihoon ignored him and clicked the profile to see they had the exact same e-flyer post. But he knew that you’d probably notice there was an influx of donations (hardly anything got by you) and he didn’t want to bombard you with unsolicited help.
But it’s for a good cause!
But he might be trespassing on her territory.
Everyone cares about youth and kids!
This group home wouldn’t have even caught his eye had it not been for you.
He groaned inwardly. “I don’t know whether I should ask Bumzu to reshare or what—”
“Dude, just ask her if you can share it and then wait for her reply. It’s not like there’s only a one day donation thing.”
Jihoon blinked at Soonyoung. “You’re right.”
Soonyoung immediately sat up straighter, pulling out his own phone from his pocket. He opened up his voice memo app. “Say that again, I need to record that so I can set it as my ringtone.”
Soonyoung pressed the Record button, extended his phone receiver to Jihoon, who leaned in promptly and said:
“Fuck off, Kwon Soonyoung.”
──────────────────
“Kwon Soonyoung, what the hell are you doing?”
“What do you mean? It’s not like I planned this.”
Jihoon glared at the boy before him who was somehow wearing matching clothes again. He specifically came home after rehearsal to change into something different and yet, here he was, matching with this endless energy ball. Jihoon specifically changed out of his all-black garment to choose a long, plain blue button-down overshirt and ripped, dark jeans. Something different from his usual style of a t-shirt and shorts.
Yet, there Soonyoung was, in nearly the same outfit, minus the overshirt being a blue flannel.
“I think this just means that we’re soulmates, Jihoon-ah.”
Jihoon pulled back his fist as if to hit Soonyoung, but the latter didn’t flinch at all, only laughed at the expense of his friend. The other members were downstairs waiting for them so Jihoon didn’t have enough time to change out of the outfit. And it felt almost ridiculous to give this more attention than it deserves, as if he was losing by admitting that it bothered him to the point of needing to change clothes.
But Kwon Soonyoung, the man that he was, would not let him live it down.
“Wow, we look like a couple. We should go on dates, huh? Get some sushi or–ack!”
The shorter of the two pressed his foot against the back of the other’s knee and Soonyoung nearly came crashing down had it not been for his instincts to catch himself.
Jihoon huffed down the stairs, shaking his head at the situation and readying himself to be made fun of by his members. Once he got through that door, it was game over.
And he was right.
Seungkwan, Mingyu, and Dino were the ones who rallied the rest of the group to heckle, which only added insult to injury, as those three were the ones who had the longest rap sheet to make fun of. Jihoon kept his disgusted face on as Soonyoung wrapped his arms around his shoulders, announcing to (what seemed like) the world about how he’s ‘matching with his best friend.’
Jihoon came back with a slew of half-hearted insults at the rest of his members, but they unfortunately outnumbered him. He is rarely on the receiving end of this level of teasing, but he was dragged into it thanks to Soonyoung, who was eating it up.
Even in the midst of it all, Jihoon couldn’t help but feel thankful that he even had someone to accidentally match with who would wear it with such pride and not shy away from it. Sure, it might seem dumb and annoying, but it reminded him that he could have that kind of playful relationship with others outside of you. He had other friends in school or at baseball, sure, but none were as comfortable, as relentlessly fun. He thought there would never be another you.
And there never was, but that feeling of acceptance, of joy, of gratitude.
He was able to find it outside of you.
Which was a heartbreaking realization before, but now he only hopes you’ve done the same.
And mere hours after his own outfit debacle, Jihoon sees your instagram story to find you accidentally matching with Hyejin, her making the same face that he did not too long ago. But you had a shit-eating grin, no doubt proud of causing a disruption in your friend’s life.
Your caption read: “oh, you and your soulmate are tied by a single, red thread? that’s nothing compared to the matching threads we got on right now. eat your heart out, makoto shinkai.”
Beneath it in smaller letters: “if you can’t tell by her face, this was not planned at all, but man, am i really rolling with it.”
Jihoon snorted at the serendipity of it all.
Perhaps the string of fate really isn’t just a single thread.
──────────────────
It was a rare day in which Jihoon found himself at home.
Which meant he had a lot of time to think about you.
(You replied to him. He shouldn’t have been so surprised. But he was, pleasantly so. Of course, it included a thumbs up emoji which was the visual manifestation of the acquaintance zone, but he would take what he could get.)
Album preparations were underway, and although there is a part of him that feels as though he should be scrambling, especially as their anniversary date was literally tomorrow, he thought back to a voice from his youth.
Years ago, he laid in his childhood bed, struck with a nasty fever from pushing his immune system too far by attempting to balance school and various music competitions. There was a half-asleep you, exhausted by misplaced guilt, with your fingers intertwined with his, who said: Jihoonie, Koreans always say ‘fighting’. I told you that this morning, and I knew you weren’t feeling well. I could’ve stopped you. And now here you are. I said ‘fighting,’ but why? Why do we have to fight? Life isn’t a battle to win. You don’t have to overcome anything, okay? You can just lay here and be with me. Please don’t get sick again. Please remember to rest. Some days, it’s okay to just be.
So, here he was. Simply being.
Whenever massive events (like SEVENTEEN’s six year anniversary) happened, he made sure to spend the 24 hours prior doing nothing than just being, to gain enough energy to last the following day.
Otherwise, the nagging guilt would get to him.
You were always weaving stories with even the thinnest of threads. Your knack for adding dramatic flair, amping it up to eleven, was a nightmare sometimes. For example, when he got sick and you kept repeating that you should’ve said something instead of letting him go on stage only to nearly faint afterwards. You took on too much responsibility for things outside of your control, which only caused you to lose your grip on what you actually could.
His chest tightened at the thought of you losing your grip completely. There were very few things in life that terrified him, but you potentially ending yours was one that plagued him until he learned how to remain steady when you were feeling unsure, and even still, it tore him up inside. But he knew that it wasn’t his battle to face; he wasn’t meant to save you. You reminded him of that time and time again, so instead, he learned how to let you live the life you weren’t sure you wanted. He observed warily.
As a teenager, he knew just how bad these thoughts could get for people at that age. He knew how people fell prey to the lies that they were unworthy of life and love.
So, he simply tried to be as honest as possible. He would do his best to not invalidate your experience, but he refused to enable those insidious feelings. He would come off as abrasive, he was sure, but your ability to detect bullshit was like no other. Your parents had a big hand in that. So, instead, he was truthful in his own way, in his own language, one that you learned to understand.
A few years ago, you did a two-part YouTube podcast at Yale. The first one was released a couple of months prior to the second, and he’s sure at least one hundred of the views are from SEVENTEEN (not all him, his members also took away a lot from your words).
He listened to that podcast time and time again. He heard the life in your voice, the curiosity of the future outweighing the pain of the past. You said that life was, at first, a means to be with the people you loved. But you slowly came to believe that life was something that you would choose to love every single day, and so you did.
He hoped that you still did, but trusted that, if there were days that would come where you did not, you would reach out to someone to wait with you until the storm passed and you could choose to love again.
His chest filled with pride thinking about how far you’ve come.
But he couldn’t help but wish there were some things that remained from back then.
That glimmer of hope spurred him to become mindful of the object he was fiddling with in his hands. He held up a bracelet of years ago, hardly worn by time or by him. He wasn’t sure whether he was still allowed to. It was one-half of a pair, but if its partner no longer existed, then.
However, he never had the desire to throw it away.
The metal charms felt both foreign and at home in his hands as he fiddled with them, the faint clicking sound of the chain barely registering as his mind was in an entirely different place. His eyes focused once again on the charm of the sun caught between his fingers.
If only catching you was as simple, he mused.
Jihoon sighed and covered his eyes, desperately trying not to cringe at his internal monologue, habitually reaching for the Chopper plushie that you gifted him years ago, squeezing the body to diffuse the embarrassment he felt.
He remembered when he saw the charms at some random shop he heard about from others and thought you would enjoy, so he decided to scope it out in advance for the two of you. It was easy, on his way home after spending a few hours on his own to rehearse his clarinet, a regular occurrence.
Although there was no doubt the two of you gravitated towards each other, you both valued your independence and alone time.
──────────────────
“We’re giving us the chance to miss each other, Jihoonie.”
“Who said I’d ever miss you?”
“Well, gosh darn. Guess I’ll cover for you and miss you twice as much.”
“…You’re dumb.”
“Yes. Can I have some of your fries?”
──────────────────
He retaliated by taking the ketchup bottle and squeezing them all over the tray of fries and you immediately retracted, believing that fries should be dipped in its respective sauce (unless they were loaded fries, of course, which warranted using a utensil of sorts).
He chuckled to himself. Fifteen was one of the most turbulent years of his life, but there were plenty of moments (like fries drowning in ketchup) that reminded him it wasn’t all intense.
Your fifteenth year started off with that charm bracelet.
Two weeks before then, you were so moody that he nearly gave you your birthday gift earlier than he intended, just so he wouldn’t have to see you be so upset (for which, he has only a vague remembrance of what could have made you so upset). Of course, it might have been easier if he had simply brought up his concern and asked how you were, but he knew you would have brushed it off as nothing.
He paused.
Did he know that though?
Or did he just assume?
He clicked his tongue, annoyed at his own self-reflection.
Communication was easy in theory.
Application, however.
He often found it difficult, matching your pace.
You were always so quick.
Quick-witted.
Quick to anger.
Quick to assume.
Quick to run away.
He heard a soft knock at his bedroom door (which meant it wasn’t Mingyu or Soonyoung) and he grunted in response. The door slowly opened (that ruled out Seungcheol and Chan) and revealed who decided to greet him in such a manner.
Ah, he was right.
“Woozingi~”
“Jeonghan-hyung.”
“Can I come in?”
“Yeah.”
Jeonghan moved to sit at the edge of Jihoon’s bed, with his legs crossed. “The members are wanting to get dinner tonight altogether since we have a schedule tomorrow. The staff said they’ll pay since it’s our six years.”
This had Jihoon propping himself upright. “Barbecue?”
Jeonghan snickered. “Yeah, it’ll be good to get ready in a few hours. But I just wanted to stop by and tell you in person since I know you like to mute the group chat.”
“That’s because it’s constantly going off,” Jihoon grumbled.
“Yes, that happens when people are trying to have a conversation, Jihoon-ah. You should try it sometimes. Especially since it sounds like you have communication issues.”
Jihoon winced. “Hyung. Your timing is terrible.”
“No, it’s impeccable. Just not for you. Anyway, a word of advice.”
“Hm.”
“You don’t have to fear rejection anymore,” Jeonghan started, slowly, the words seeming almost foreign in his mouth. “Regardless of what happens with her, you have people in your life that care about you as you are. You don’t have to try and match her. I don’t want you to subconsciously fall back into a habit of appeasing her because you’re afraid of scaring her away again.”
Jihoon blinked slowly. “I wasn’t expecting actual advice, so I’m a little stunned right now.”
Jeonghan chuckled. “I’m gonna be honest. The other members told me to come talk to you because the rest are either too scared or don’t know what to say.”
“Hah, we’re back to our trainee days, huh?”
Jeonghan grinned, probably recalling the amount of times that he was the emotional support pillar of the boys before they each learned to open up to each other. “Speaking of, I remember when I first met you. You were a teen with a cold-hearted exterior and a lot of opinions as well as the weight of the world on your shoulders. You had the responsibility to carry the music of twelve other guys and you had just lost something that was precious to you. You threw yourself into your work and that became your identity.”
“I—”
“I know you’re not that way anymore, but I’m just reminding you that, no matter what happens with her, no matter how she may respond, you aren’t that cold teenager who had to bear the weight all on your own. You’ve grown and are surrounded by people who can help ease the load.” Jeonghan paused for a moment. “Also, if I could think of a member who laughs easily at anything, you are one of the first that comes to mind. So, it concerns me that you haven’t been laughing lately, even when Mingyu accidentally sneezed out his ramyeon noodles—“ Jihoon snorted at the memory from last night. “—and, if I can assume anything about her, I don’t think she’d be very honored to know that it’s because of her. So. Come back to us, Jihoon. If she’s really meant to be in your life, she can match your rhythm. Don’t leave us in the dust.”
“Is this a long-winded way of saying ‘bros before hoes’?”
Jeonghan burst into laughter. “Maybe so!”
──────────────────
“Our Jihoonie~”
The teenage boy grunted in response, shooting up a look at one of the older members. “Is there something that you need, hyung?”
“You speak so formally, it’s off-putting.”
“That’s because someone refuses to act his age.”
“What a tough Busan guy,” Jeonghan teased.
Jihoon’s face twitched.
“Bumzu-hyung is looking for you. Said he wanted to finish up some more lessons.”
“Agh. I knew he was going to have criticisms. I’m barely getting a grip on this music production stuff, so I don’t even know if what I’m making is good enough to sell. Everyone might hate it.”
“Even if everyone else hates your music, just know I’m one of your biggest fans.”
“...If my music is hated, then we won’t make any money, which means you’ll be poor. What? Is it your dream to become poor?”
Jihoon expected Jeonghan to laugh and tell him that he was right and that money mattered. But instead, Jeonghan replied, “Jihoon. Your music is good. And if we don’t make money because other people aren’t able to see it. Then what’s the point? You say that it’s your responsibility as to whether SEVENTEEN succeeds or not, but, we’re thirteen members. Three units. One team. We’re SEVENTEEN. Stop acting like it’s all about you. Maybe my dream used to be becoming rich. But now, it’s just doing this. With all of us.”
──────────────────
Jihoon stared at his hands, at the charm bracelet. “Is it selfish to want this life and her as well?”
“Maybe it is. But, so what if you’re selfish?”
“Isn’t being selfish supposed to be a bad thing?”
“Just hope that she’s as selfish as you are,” Jeonghan shrugged. “By wanting her in your life, does that mean you want to be with her romantically?”
Jihoon paused. “You know, I’m not sure. I think I would be over the moon if we could even just be a part of each other’s lives. To have that line of communication open. But as the people that we are now. I think I’d like to meet the new Y/N. She probably has more in common with the new Lee Jihoon than the old her anyway.”
“You two have grown apart, aren’t you worried?”
Jihoon went silent for a moment, trying to pick out the right words. “Rather than grown apart, it feels like we’ve simply grown in separate spaces, by taking different routes, but our lives seem too intertwined for our paths to never cross again. Plus, she’s one of the few people that I could really be myself around. It’d be nice to have another safe space like that outside of SEVENTEEN because who else can I complain about you all to, that wouldn’t cause conflict between us?”
“Ay. What is there to complain about?”
Jihoon gave his hyung a pointed look.
“Alright, alright,” Jeonghan started. “But be honest. Real talk. You really think she wouldn’t spread it to Dispatch?”
“She has always valued people’s stories more than anything, so it really annoyed her when other people would take out-of-context excerpts and twist them. So. That’s how I know she wouldn’t spread it. Also, if she was that kind of person, she would’ve done so by now. She has a ton of blackmail material on me.”
Jeonghan chuckled. “Interesting. You said she likes stories, so is she a writer like you?”
“Not in the traditional sense. She’s more of a speaker than a writer. In high school, of course, she had her awkward moments like everybody else did, but even then, she was a tier above the rest. I don’t know how to say this kindly, but she doesn’t really think before she talks, but she doesn’t usually have to because what comes out is almost always what she intended.”
“So, she must be eloquent then.”
Jihoon clicked his tongue. “Just because things come out as she intended doesn’t mean she wouldn’t intentionally be mean or annoying.”
──────────────────
“You like unnie, don’t you?”
Jihoon spluttered. Shit, shit, shit. He tried to gather his thoughts, but failed. He wasn’t good with spontaneous spoken words, that was always your realm of expertise. He needed time to think of the right thing to say, but you never waited for him. “F-Firefly, I—”
You barked out a laugh, and he nearly retaliated at the harshness. He wasn’t sure why exactly you were being so harsh. “Hey, it’s fine. I don’t blame you. She’s pretty high up there, above us mortals. From now on, I’ll do my best to help you out, yeah? That’s what best friends are for. Plus, you’re like family, like a brother to me, so.”
Jihoon sank back.
Family? Brother?
He wondered why that left a bitter taste in his mouth. But that didn’t make any sense. Wasn’t being called family the highest praise?
So why the hell did that piss him off?
Instead of speaking his actual thoughts, his mouth had a mind of its own. “I can handle myself, Y/N.”
You sneered at him.
God, you were so infuriating sometimes.
She wasn’t like that.
She was the soothing waves of Busan, ebb and flow, constant and expected. She was everything you weren’t. She was older, more experienced, graceful, calm, soothing.
She was beautiful.
But she didn’t have that burning fire you did. Didn’t have him reacting the way you managed to every time you opened your damn mouth or rolled your eyes—there you went again!
What the hell was wrong with you?
Rapid escalation, raised voices. You, accusing him of not trusting your judgment and hiding his crush from you, saying that you wished he trusted you. Him, arguing that he didn’t need to share every little thing, that it wasn’t about his trust for you at all, and that God, he did! He did trust you! Of course, he did!
So, why didn’t he tell you about the stupid crush?
It wasn’t that deep, but you were convinced it was, and he was too tired to even try and correct you. So, sure, he could be “in love” with his noona, like you believed. Because then he wouldn’t have to untangle the mess in his chest. He could shove it under the rug like he always had, always would.
You slammed your fists down onto the table before you walked away from him, in a rampage. Like a damn wildfire trying to clear everything in sight.
You were a volatile thing, explosive, even.
But.
You fizzled out just as fast.
He awoke around midnight to the soft knocking at his window, your silhouette perched on the thickest branch the tree outside his childhood home had to offer. He had half a mind to not open the glass pane but he saw you shiver and his body leaped out of bed without a second thought.
“I’m sorry, Jihoonie,” you said, a few moments after you clambered into his room.
“Okay.”
“I’m an idiot.”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for being friends with me anyway.”
“Sure.”
So, he wrapped your favorite blanket around you, the one he kept in his room for nights like this. Color slowly returned to your face and he saw the stains of tears on your cheek in the moonlight. You muttered words of apologies and told him about your day, not having the chance to earlier.
You were better like this, quiet, but not silent. Like a crackling fireplace beckoning all to come and listen, to be enveloped in warmth and light.
He never once called you his family.
But he’d be damned if you weren’t his home.
──────────────────
“Funny enough, despite the fact that she’s more of a speaker than a writer, even more than that, she’s a listener. She listens to more stories than she tells them. I think that’s helped with her pride. If she knew she messed up, she would always apologize, even if she hated doing it.”
“Well, that’s one lesson you haven’t learned from her yet.”
Jihoon pulled a face and Jeonghan laughed in response. The older of the two snatched away the Chopper on the opposite end and started throwing the doll up and down.
“Alright, lover boy. What I got from this conversation is that you’re still in love with her, but you gotta make sure she’s worthy of your love, alright? Heed my warning, don’t be afraid of being rejected by her. It’s already happened anyway, and here you are: world-star idol with twelve bros behind you no matter what.”
Jihoon cracked a smile. “You’re right. I got lucky.”
Jeonghan tossed Chopper back in his original vicinity. “I think Dokyeomie wanted to ask something from you too, but I don’t remember what it was, so maybe you can go get ready and he’ll come find you.”
“What a useless messenger.”
“Your luck can’t be perfect, Jihoon-ah,” Jeonghan quipped. He turned to leave the room but stopped in his tracks. “I hope to hear her story one day. Hear her side of things.”
“…Me too, hyung.”
──────────────────
“How much is the corn dog?”
“Hmm… Tell me your favorite color and how it makes you feel.”
Jihoon mustered as much displeasure as he could hold in his six-year-old body. “Y/N, you can’t pay with stories, that’s stupid.”
“It’s my shop!”
“Jihoon, we’re just playing pretend,” your cousin added, his eyes darting between the two of you, likely worried about needing to do damage control.
“Hyung, her idea is dumb!”
“Why!” You whined. “People pay with money all the time, but you can get money whenever! I don’t get to hear stories! I like stories! My parents don’t read to me every night like yours do, Jihoon!”
Jihoon stomped out of the playroom in annoyance, ears grated by the sound of your crying and your cousin’s failed attempts to console you. Stories couldn’t buy the new toy race car that he got. Stories couldn’t buy him candy at the corner market near the kindergarten. Stories couldn’t buy a GameBoy.
Stories didn’t matter.
Money mattered.
Still, nearly a decade later, you never failed to ask for your unconventional form of payment every time he took a portion of your lunch. He knew you packed more for him anyway. And he knew you would always ask for a story in return.
And he intentionally packed smaller meals so he could tell you about how the History teacher had botched up his classmate’s test and accidentally graded off by one, about how the clarinet solo he was learning required a finger pattern he wasn’t used to, about how that one guy—oh, the tennis player?—no, no, the flautist—isn’t it flutist?—it doesn’t matter—yes, it does, Jihoon—anyway, he asked out a girl—the senior?—yes—oh wow, how bold.
And you would smile in return, sliding your food choice of the day within his reach.
He learned that you hated money; it was the one and only thing your parents ever gave you consistently. Simply, it was the manifestation of their love (or lack of) for you.
So, he paid you with recountings of the mundane. You never complained, even when he felt as though his storytelling skills were lackluster. He held your rapt attention; your eyes wide with wonder, voice laced with curiosity.
Eventually, he asked you why.
Why stories?
“Because without them, I wouldn’t have learned that you love the X-Men series because of Hugh Jackman, that you prefer winter over summer, that the first ever K-Pop group you listened to was Brown Eyed Girls, that when you tell me a funny story, you wait until I react before you start laughing.”
And you gave him that smile that made his heart stutter.
“Money is everywhere, Jihoon. But there’s only one you. That’s all there is to it. People, at the core of it all, are just stories. So. That’s why. People will always matter more than profit.”
──────────────────
After Jihoon readied himself for the group dinner, he plopped himself down onto the communal couch and found himself scrolling through Instagram. He stopped at your latest post, a candid shot of you reading a children’s book to several six-year-olds, your face aglow with excitement, a high chance the photographer captured you mid-way through some silly voice attributed to the character on the page.
“Hey, hyung.”
“Hm?”
“Can I borrow your microphone for the day?”
Jihoon didn’t even have the chance to think twice before the words left his mouth, “Tell me your favorite color and how it makes you feel.”
An uncomfortable silence blanketed the room.
“Is… Is this a hidden-camera?”
“...never mind. Just put it back when you’re done.”
“It’s blue, by the way.”
“I don’t care—”
“It makes me feel happy because it’s the color of the sky and of the ocean, which means it can be super calm or super exciting. It’s also one of the colors of our Caratdeul.”
“Okay, Dokyeom-ssi. Get out.”
“Yes, hyung. Thank you.”
Jihoon thought about how, if given the chance, you would ask Seokmin if he liked the paleness of 9am or the depth of 6pm? If he liked the gentleness of serenity or the vibrancy of cerulean? Or if he appreciated all that the shades encompassed before fading into greens and indigos?
But he wasn’t you.
You were the inspiration; the muse.
You were the reason to write.
He was just a storyteller.
──────────────────
“THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO IS HERE. THANK YOU TO THE PLEDIS STAFF, OUR MANAGERS, OUR CHOREOGRAPHERS, OUR MUSIC TEAM, OUR DANCERS, OUR STYLISTS, OUR CAMERA WORKERS, OUR FAMILIES, AND OUR SEVENTEEN MEMBERS! HAPPY SIX YEARS. HERE’S TO MORE!”
Everyone in the rented out restaurant cheered before drinking together. Even the sound barrier breaking screams of Soonyoung wasn’t enough to dampen Jihoon’s pride and spirit over how far they’ve come as a team. He looked around at his table, several members already seemingly drunk, and couldn’t help but smile to himself.
“Jihoon-ah, make an exception for tonight and drink!”
He shook his head fervently. “There’s going to be several of you who are going to regret drinking when we have our V LIVE tomorrow. You’re going to look super puffy.”
“I can already feel it,” Seungcheol laughed, his eyes slightly glazed. “But the food and the beer are too good to pass up.”
Speaking of, Jihoon made sure to snatch a piece of kalbi to put onto his plate before Mingyu could. The younger one gave him the stink-eye while Jihoon merely smirked and tilted his head back, challenging him. Mingyu decided to change his target and grab at Seungkwan’s piece, who promptly smacked his hand with a “Kim Mingyu!”
Laughter went around the table as they reflected on the last six years, the amount of embarrassing moments that were brought up were positively correlated with the amount of shots that were taken.
Jihoon grit his teeth as he tried not to fold in on himself, remembering how they threw him up as a cheer and nearly ended his life by creating a Jihoon-shaped hole in the ceiling. He was so much smaller back then, easier to launch without thinking.
They laughed about the incident where Mingyu was nearly beaten to death by Jihoon with a guitar, which Jihoon argued that he still believed he was in the right. They discussed one of their first performances as a team, where they performed NU’EST’s “Hello” and they all had helmet hair. They poked fun at Seungkwan for his revolutionary English skills when he said, “are you kimbap kidding?”
They’ve grown so much.
International interviews with BuzzFeed, Seventeen the magazine, and others. GOING SEVENTEEN as a show has grown alongside them, more than just showing Carats the behind-the-scenes, but has now turned to variety that garnered the new fanbase of Cubics, and has been an honest highlight to Jihoon’s career, where they can just go wild and laugh with each other, just as they always do.
They talked about how they used to sneak in food, how they used to help each other get ready for school, how they still have the same playful spirit as they did back then, but with more trust that has formed between them (although, less for Jeonghan since his cheating at games has only gotten worse).
Jihoon leaned back, full of food and laughter and gratitude.
He wouldn’t trade his life with his team for anything.
(Not even you.)
However, that didn’t mean Jihoon didn’t want you to be a part of his already complete life.
He was a selfish human being.
He hoped you would be one too.
──────────────────
May 26th.
Six years ago, “Adore U” came out, marking the beginning of the journey of a thirteen member boy idol group named SEVENTEEN.
Now, here he was, trying to not be bullied into drinking another shot of soju after already consuming several in a short period.
Their anniversary V LIVE ended not too long ago and they did not have a schedule the following day, so the team decided to celebrate on their own, playing Mafia and messing around. A few hours ago, Jihoon would’ve hardly been able to tolerate the noise level, but since his hearing has been compromised due to his heart beating so loudly in his ears from the alcohol, he was plenty fine.
He shooed away his members and retreated back into the corner of the room, pulling out his cellphone and ignoring Mingyu making stupid kissy faces and noises. Jihoon shot him a look of disgust, but Mingyu merely laughed it off and went to go bother his next victim, who seemed to be Boo Seungkwan, a prime choice indeed.
As soon as he refreshed his Instagram app, there you were (with a highlighted gradient ring around your profile picture, your head tilted back with a soft smile grazing your features as you took in the endless sky above you).
He clicked on the circle and saw you and your friends there, a dimmed photo but your collective smiles large and wide. He recognized Hyejin and Wheein easily (the former with a disgusted look apparent on her face and the latter with a deep dimple), as they were two friends who were a common occurrence on your feed.
And there you were.
alexa, play congratulations by post malone ft. quavo 🥳🎓 #PHinisheD
The corner of his lip quirked up at the cleverness in your caption.
Perhaps it was because of the alcohol in his system, he swiped up to send a message:
i figured u would be a day6 or eric nam kind of fan
His brain short-circuited.
Shit. Fuck. Shit. Shit. Fuck.
Who was he to think he could directly message you like this? Also, who the hell was he to figure anything about you? He hasn’t even spoken to you. Jesus Christ, what has he done?
Before he could stop himself though, his thumbs decided to speak his thoughts.
sorry that was dumb of me to assume
of course u would like post malone considering u could rap the entirety of eminems album
What the hell, dude.
You were going to freak out and call him a creep and then block him.
You’ve literally never done that.
He tried to calm his heart.
However, not even ten minutes later, he realized he couldn’t take that risk.
sorry that was stupid
ignore me
congrats y/n
He felt nearly every goosebump that crawled along his skin, creeping up to his neck, threatening to choke him out. He breathed in deeply through his nose, hoping no one bears witness to him.
“Yah, Jihoon-ah.”
His eyes trailed up to see Soonyoung with a look of concern, mixed with a twinge of panic and anger.
Ah, it would be him.
“What did she do?”
──────────────────
For people who didn’t know him, Kwon Soonyoung comes off as, well, not-so-bright.
But that wasn’t (entirely) true.
Kwon Soonyoung was aware.
He knew how to read a room, but oftentimes, he would purposely choose to simply do what he wanted anyway. Hardly did he ever prioritize another person’s comfort and complacency over his expression of his individuality. He knew what it took to be a performer, and he never denied himself the opportunity to be one.
So, him simply staring at his friend in silence with eyes that alone could have earned him his moniker of “Tiger’s Gaze,” was a major indicator that something was amiss.
Also, the fact that his friend was shrouded in near darkness, eyes rimmed with red, only a corner lamp illuminating his pale features.
“She went to America. She’s never fucking coming back.”
Soonyoung tried not to wince at his friend’s broken tone. Jihoon cursed like a sailor when they were trainees, but it was a habit that he slowly lost since he would often be reprimanded for his speech. He had to do the work to censor himself.
Well, the K-Pop industry was not a stranger to censorship, he mused.
“Wasn’t she already at an international school, though?”
“Yeah, but I just… I thought she would come back after graduating from that boarding school, you know? She wanted to go to Seoul National University, but. Fuck, dude. What if I’m the reason she stopped? What if she stopped following her dreams because of me? What if I–”
“She made her choice, Jihoon.”
“This is all my fault.”
“How?”
Soonyoung saw confusion flit across Jihoon’s face, but it quickly settled with a shake of his head. “It just is, alright?”
“Jihoon–”
“I’ll never be good enough for her. Fuck, I just thought if I tried, then maybe I could be, and– God, who do I think I am? Of course she’d never want someone like me–”
“Dude! Shut the fuck up, will you?”
Jihoon sat there in stunned silence.
“This might not even have anything to do with you. And if she really went to America because she’s trying to avoid you, then she’s a massive bitch–”
“Don’t fucking call her that–”
“I can do whatever the hell I want. Just like she’s doing whatever the hell she wants.” Soonyoung’s anger was slowly morphing into rage. Who was this person in front of him? He was so used to the sure, secure Lee Jihoon who would never truly get riled up.
But one mention of you and suddenly he would spiral.
Who the hell did you think you were?
Leaving this man who loved you so fucking wildly, to the point where he was just one moment away from begging on his knees for your return.
Soonyoung felt disgusted, but it was more of a ringing concern in his ears.
“Jihoon, you’re acting crazy right now. So what if she doesn’t come back to Korea? Are you gonna wait like a fucking sad dog out in the rain? Hoping that she’ll come pick you up again? You’re missing your own fucking life here.”
“I just–”
“Yeah, yeah, you love her. I get it. But… If she were to see you right now, do you think she would even want this kind of love? This obsessive, insecure kind?”
Jihoon’s face was now contorted in pain and Soonyoung tried so terribly hard to keep his face neutral. Soonyoung was plenty capable of being a soothing person, especially to his fellow members, but he was so riddled with frustration that he knew that he would come off as disingenuous if he even tried to pretend to be.
“Let her go. If she comes back, then she will. But don’t let her come back to someone who is incapable of even picking himself off of the floor.”
“...Okay.”
Kwon Soonyoung was aware.
Aware of how much Lee Jihoon was in love with you.
Painfully so.
──────────────────
“I just–”
“You just what?” Soonyoung’s eyes bore into his friend’s face.
Jihoon recoiled at his tone. “I replied to her Instagram story and it was some dumb comment, but what if she thinks I’m being too much and she backs off and–?”
“Jihoon-ah.”
“...Soonyoung-ah.”
“She’s human, right?”
Jihoon raised an eyebrow at that. “Yeah, no shit.”
“Then why are you acting like she’s this untouchable goddess? Who cares if she thinks you’re being too much? You’re putting her on a pedestal she probably doesn’t even want, dude.”
──────────────────
“Why’d you reject the guy?”
You glanced up at her best friend. “What’re you talking about?”
Jihoon cocked his head to the side. Was it already so quickly forgotten by you? It happened at lunch and it was kind of rowdy. Poor dude. “The guy who asked you out to the dance. You said you thought he was cute before and that he was good at tutoring math.”
“Yeah, I might know him, but he doesn’t know me.”
Jihoon raised an eyebrow. “I thought you guys tutored together.”
You clicked your tongue. “Yeah, we do, but. He doesn’t know me. I know him because I ask him questions. I ask him about himself. But he never once asked me a question about me. If he did, he would know that I hate public gestures. He would know that I don’t like receiving flowers. He didn’t even care to ask any of my friends about what I liked. The main reason as to why he asked me to go to the dance is probably because I made him feel good about himself. I might know him, but he doesn’t know me, and that’s one of the most annoying things.”
“What, that people don’t know you?”
“No. That people assume they know me.”
Jihoon paused for a moment.
“People think that I’m this super wholesome good kid who gets perfect grades.”
“Well, one of those things is true.”
You cracked a smile at that. “Yeah, well. The more people assume I’m on a different level from them, the lonelier it is. I just… I don’t want to be lonely, Jihoon.”
“It’s alright. I’ll make sure you aren’t.”
It was chilling, how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, as if you knew a secret he didn’t, as if you already prophesied a future that rendered his words empty. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Lee Jihoon.”
──────────────────
Jihoon nearly bit his tongue.
Ever since he no longer had the security of having you be by his side, he became exactly like one of them, forcing assumptions onto you.
You were out of sight and he was out of his mind.
He told you that you could always be yourself around him, and here he was, creating a caricature of you in his head that he knew didn’t exist. To push forth the narrative he wrote. One born of insecurity. “...I don’t understand how you’ve been so right lately?”
“I really do wish I had my phone around to record you when you say that,” Soonyoung said off-handedly. “So, you’re not going to try to unsend those messages?”
“You can unsend messages?”
“Uh–”
Jihoon immediately unlocked his phone to go to his messages. There, he saw your chat. He long-pressed the message without much thought and his thumb hovered over it.
But he hesitated.
“...Just watching from afar isn’t enough for you anymore, is it?”
Jihoon stared up at his friend, who had a look of (almost) pity etched across his features. Jihoon swallowed the lump in his throat. “...No. I don’t think it is.”
“Well, if she rejects you in any kind of way, I can comfort you.”
“No thanks.”
“Yeah, thought you’d say that.”
──────────────────
Almost exactly sixty minutes later, Jihoon witnessed a miracle.
“...She replied.”
Seungkwan glanced up at Jihoon. “Who?”
Jihoon turned his screen to his younger member, who leaned forward to read his screen. Only to audibly gasp and cover his mouth with his hands. “You messaged her?!”
“Yeah, like an hour ago. Keep up.”
“Hyung, you didn’t tell me–”
“Ah, Boo Seungkwan.”
The corner of Seungkwan’s mouth twitched and Jihoon merely smirked. He turned his attention back to your messages, smiling fondly at your usage of 🥳 after greeting him a happy anniversary.
Oh shit, wait. You knew SEVENTEEN?
And he portrayed that sentiment exactly when messaging you.
(With some typing errors.)
(He may or may not have taken one, two, several shots once the anxiety settled back into him.)
(His alcohol tolerance was nonexistent.)
The messages were now rapid-fire. He found out that you were a Carat and that you favored Yoon Jeonghan.
He snorted at that, of course you would.
A lightbulb lit up over his head. Ah. He could do something for you.
He jumped up from his seat on the couch, away from Seungkwan who was watching over his shoulder the entire time who chose to remain silent because he knew he would be kicked out if he said anything compromising. “Jeonghan-hyung.”
“Woozi Woozi~?”
“Can you do something for me?”
Jeonghan stared at him, frozen. Then after a moment to process what exactly Jihoon said, the older one crossed his arms over his chest, a scandalized look in his wide eyes. “Depends on what you’re asking for.”
“YAH.”
“Lee Jihoon, don’t yell at someone you’re trying to ask a favor from. You’re lucky I’m a nice guy.”
Jihoon held his tongue, but his expression must have given it away because Jeonghan laughed and said that he would rather not die, and asked Jihoon to continue with what he was saying. “Y/N just graduated and she basically said that you’re her favorite SEVENTEEN member–”
“WOW! I like her already.”
“Hyung.”
“Okay, what do you want me to do for both my cute fan and my even cuter dongsaeng?”
“Just a video to congratulate her.”
“My videos are rare, it’s not easy to get something like this, you know.”
“Hyung, please.”
Jeonghan cackled, but quickly acquiesced. “Alright, alright.”
Soon enough, he found himself in a rhythm speaking to you. It was so easy, there was no residual awkwardness (on his end, at least) and it felt so natural. The banter was still there and so were your emoticons, escalating from the “:)” of your childhood to the iPhone emojis. You seemed so close, within reach, attainable.
That felt dangerous.
He could feel it. He could feel that desire to spill out everything he could. He spent years coming up with the words he wished he could’ve told you, some of them now award-winning songs, and it feels almost euphoric to know that he could tell you it all.
But.
He wasn’t sure, still. How receptive you would be. Would you run away like you did in the past whenever things became too much, too overwhelming? He always reminded you that you could never be that, but he wasn’t sure whether he was of the same capacity.
He wants you in his life. There is no doubt about that, especially not now.
But what if you leave again?
He cannot mess this up. He can’t.
So, he kept things light between you, jokes and jabs.
But that didn’t stop him from pushing for more, disguised in a (not-so) innocent attempt at ensuring that he would be able to have open contact with you in the future.
And that’s all he needed. A future with you in it.
That wasn’t too much to ask for, right?
──────────────────
Yes. Yes, it was.
After a few days of no response from your end on KakaoTalk, your Shikamaru profile picture almost mocking him with his permanent deadpan look, the answer was resounding.
But Jihoon’s entire identity was based on his stubbornness.
So, he decided to take a chance and message you on Instagram.
Only to retract immediately saying you didn’t have to reply.
Stupid.
Thankfully, though, you responded within 30 minutes, admitting that @narutofanfreak123 was not exactly a username you wanted to share with anyone above the age of twelve. You both quickly resolved the miscommunication (wow, Jihoon thought, imagine if we had this before).
He chuckled at your choice of KKT username, @MadameFirefly, oddly touched that his nickname for you still held enough weight to be your moniker for a messaging app.
He did his best to casually ask what you were planning on doing in the future (not like he wanted to see if he could somehow fit into it, or whatever).
Jihoon was left staring at his phone screen, the weight of his phone now burdened by the weight of your choices. Seoul? Or New York City?
──────────────────
“You didn’t have to miss the dance just because I got a B on an exam, you know.”
“Your parents are insane for grounding you to the library for a B on an exam, you know? And for a hagwon that’s way above our grade level.”
You shook your head, not willing to admit out loud that you agreed. “What I mean is that you don’t have to keep me company while I study when you could go off and meet cute girls and sweep them off their feet.”
“Why would I do that when I can watch you and your snot-nosed face trying to do college level calculus?”
“It’s all so that I can get into Seoul National.”
“Firefly, you could get into any school, even outside Korea.”
“Maybe I’ll do just that,” you laughed. “Finally get out of here.”
“Just let me know and I’ll stow myself into your suitcase.”
“Oh please. You’ll probably be the one traveling internationally doing whatever you do. A world-renowned musician.”
“Alright, you can be in my suitcase instead then.”
“Okay, can you leave breathing holes for me?”
“No, get better lung capacity.”
You clicked your tongue at him and he laughed. “Seriously, though, Jihoonie. You could be spending your teen years the way the movies do it. You could be ‘swearing you’re infinite’ while a slow-mo cam focuses on you as you dance, surrounded by beautiful people definitely too old to be cast as teenagers.”
“No thanks.”
You put your forehead down onto the table. “Please. Do it for me. Get a girlfriend because I can’t.”
“You know, you’re probably why I can’t get a girlfriend.”
No. You definitely were.
You shot him an annoyed look. “You could easily go and find someone who’d be smitten with you. But instead you’re about to watch me get a nosebleed over how hard I’m working my brain here.”
“Maybe I’m a sadist and want to watch that happen.”
You threw your eraser at him, but easily missed, the rubber object bouncing off of the table and onto the carpeted floor. You whined at the idea of having to leave your seat and Jihoon just rolled his eyes and picked it up for you.
Sure, he could be dancing with his friends, with cute girls, with whoever. He could be surrounded by endless snacks and overly sweet punch, the dance no doubt smelling like youth and pride and reckless decisions. He would see that there are plenty of people in his life outside of you.
But, no.
If he did, you would be left here, in this almost deserted library on a Friday, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into what your parents have convinced you matters more than your health.
You gave him a large grin as he passed you your eraser before you went back to focusing on your work.
Yeah, he’d much rather see this instead.
──────────────────
Later that evening, he found himself again in his recording studio.
Our past that didn’t line up,
If I could go back in time,
Rather than roughly, but warmly,
Would I be able to let you go?
He stared at the lyrics he wrote, feeling discontent. He wanted to be the kind of person who didn’t feel any kind of residual emotions towards you. Who would be able to meet you where you were and wish you well, no matter where you decided to go.
One of his biggest regrets was storming out of your childhood home the way that he did. He could’ve had answers but instead he was left with hostile emotions and questions.
He could only hope he would’ve done something different.
But now that he is faced with letting you go, he’s not sure how easily he would yield.
He took a moment to bury his face in his hands and tried to think about this from your perspective (something he had to practice while living with twelve other boys). He breathed in deeply and thought about the you that you are now, about how the person he fell in love with could easily be gone, and you were nothing but a shadow of what remained.
But that didn’t feel right either. It seems as though the person that you’ve grown into, that you’ve flourished into, is someone he would’ve wanted to get to know regardless of whether you had history or not.
Perhaps that is because of the artifice of social media, or perhaps it’s because you carry an air of authenticity with you that has now been given the opportunity to bloom instead of stifled in the environment you were raised in. Whether or not you were mere remnants of his past, it does not mean that the person you are now is any less lovely.
He groaned loudly.
Emotional labor is hard.
How is this something you enjoy doing?
──────────────────
“You really want to become a social worker, huh?”
You shrugged. “I mean, yeah. It feels like the best use of my skills. I like being able to potentially help people like me and well, there are a lot of people like me, you know. I don’t know whether I want to become a private practice therapist, but that seems like a solid option for now until I know more about what else is out there in the field.”
He would disagree, but he decided not to. “I just can’t deal with all of those emotions.”
You gave him a raised eyebrow. “What are you talking about? You’re one of the most sensitive people that I know.”
Jihoon felt ruffled by that. “What? What are you talking about?”
You quickly put your hands up in mock defense. “I’m not saying that being sensitive is a bad thing. I’m saying that there’s no way you would be my friend if you couldn’t handle emotions. I have way too many of them, I’m not that blind to that. Also, I’ve read your poetry and heard your music and that’s some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. Like, even the way you hold your clarinet is emotional.”
“I think that’s you projecting yourself onto me.”
“Say what you want, Jihoon. You’re a sensitive soul, but I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
“Yeah, well, sensitivity isn’t what gets you awards, you know. Skill does.”
You huffed in response. “Yeah, well, once you build up the second, the first is what will create a legacy that will be one to remember for ages to come. I’m speaking it into existence now. And I lay claim to the title of being your first fan. I will support you the entire way, no matter what you do. Music, baseball, comedy. Whatever!”
Jihoon snorted. He wouldn’t dare become a comedian, but it made him feel good that you thought that was a viable prospect for him. “Whatever industry I’m in, I’ll probably have to protect you from all of the bad people. You’re too soft. Even just last week, I mean…”
“What? You mean, when Nahyun made fun of me during my presentation in front of everyone?”
Irritation washed over Jihoon.
The self-proclaimed It Girl decided to try and belittle you while in the middle of your presentation, as you were explaining the measurements that you used in your findings, she asked whether you had ‘measured’ your weight recently because ‘you really ought to’.
He never wanted to get into a fight more than then, especially when your other classmates laughed along. It was a subpar, typical, low-class mean girl line, but it filled him with rage.
You were completely unphased by it, continuing on with your presentation, not even choosing to spare a glance in her direction.
Luckily, the teacher, not being a prick himself, called out Nahyun and pulled her aside after class to apologize to you. (Jihoon would’ve preferred a public execution apology.)
Jihoon stood just a few feet away as you accepted her half-assed effort. You paused for a moment and muttered something to her, something that only she could hear. Nahyun merely pursed her lips afterwards before walking away. Irritation rushed through him again.
“Seriously, though. You’re too soft, firefly.”
“Hm. I don’t think so.”
“No?”
“No. I just think everyone else is too hard on themselves. And each other.”
“...You’re gonna be a great therapist.”
“Thanks. Hire me.”
──────────────────
Jihoon had his own fair share of meetings with professional counselors (especially in the midst of living such a hectic life as an idol), but he was worried whether you would be as cut and dry as they were, whittled down by years of academia. It seemed almost like they were reading out of a textbook, using vocabulary words like ‘empathy’ and ‘self-care,’ so he never saw it fit to return if it wasn’t necessary.
However, the places you’ve poured your time into left only glowing reviews for your passion and compassion for the field that you were in.
Jihoon was roused from his thoughts at his phone ringing on his desk. He looked at the Caller ID and saw a name he has been in and out of contact with for over a decade, it was your cousin. He picked it up. “Yo, hyung. What’s up?”
“Are you busy right now, Jihoon?”
“No. It’s a slower day today. Do you need something?”
“Yeah, just wanted to let you know that I’ll be in Seoul in a few weeks. Your noona and I are planning on celebrating saying goodbye to our single days by drinking way too much within the span of 12 or so hours. I wanted to see if you were down to join.”
“I probably won’t drink, but if it’s for you, hyung, I’ll go.”
“Nice. And you can feel free to leave after the dinner, we’ll just be at an apartment we’re renting out in Gangnam, since I don’t trust those fools to walk around the streets of Hongdae.”
“I’ll probably do that, I don't want to accidentally be caught by Dispatch.”
“Right, right. We wouldn’t want to sully the name of the best producer in all of K-Pop.”
“That’s a title I don’t think I’ll ever get.”
Your cousin laughed. “You never know, you might get that award sooner than you think, kiddo. Alright, I’ll keep you updated on our schedule. But uh…”
Jihoon knew his hyung well. He was about to bring you up again. “What about her?”
“I just wanted to ask whether you’d be interested in a meet-up with her. Not that we’ve asked her or anything, but I know we’ll probably meet up with her at some point, and I know it’ll feel weird if we’re not all together, you know? The four of us.”
“Yeah… I want to say that I’m courteous enough to wait for her response, but I just know that I’m willing to meet with her, if anything. Even just one last time.”
“That… sounds kinda sad, but. I guess I’ll take it. If you’re down, we could even make it a surprise on her end.”
He imagined your deer in headlights look but couldn’t think further than that. “Sounds like we’d really be putting her on the spot, if that was the case.”
“Hey, she’s rarely played it safe. Same with you. Might as well keep the flow going. And if anything, I’ll take the brunt of it all. She can’t stay mad at me for too long.”
“We both know that’s literally not true.”
“Okay, fine. Your noona can take the blame.”
“Wow, very excited to see how this marriage will go.”
His hyung laughed. “Amazingly, I’m sure.”
A thought occurred to Jihoon and he realized it was strange that he was mentioning it as an afterthought, as if it was something to be expected, something natural and normal. “Oh, hyung. By the way, I’m talking to Y/N again.”
Jihoon heard the undeniable ‘beep beep beep’ of being hung up and he stared confused at his phone screen until he saw another phone call from your cousin. He picked up with a, “Hello?”
Your cousin sounded much more flustered than he did just seconds ago. “Sorry. I hung up because I dropped my phone by accident. Say that again. You’re what?”
“I’m talking to her again. Kind of. I guess. Like, Instagram DMing went to KakaoTalk.”
“Jesus Christ, you slid into her DMs?”
“Can you not say it like that?”
“Can you say that that didn’t happen?”
Jihoon relayed the entire experience to him, only now realizing he didn’t even share all of the details with his members because it would’ve been too much teasing fodder from them. But your cousin, his hyung, was the kind of fellow that wouldn’t do that, even given the opportunity.
──────────────────
“Hyung,” Jihoon started one day, across from said person in a local Busan restaurant. “I don’t get how you’re single.”
“Why, you wanna date me?”
Jihoon’s eye twitched and your cousin laughed. Jihoon bit on his straw, the family style meal between the two young men long since devoured. “People compare us, you know.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “What’s there to compare?”
“I don’t know. So many people around us know how cool you are. You’re good at sports, you’re smart, you have a lot of friends, you’re handsome. Everyone always says you’re one of the best listeners they’ve ever met.”
“The trick is to not pay attention sometimes and just nod.”
“I’m gonna tell Y/N you said that.”
“I’m sure she knows,” he laughed. “Well, I'm honored that you think all of those things, but those are all traits you have too. You do realize that, right?”
Jihoon grunted. “Not… really.”
“Well, just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean others don’t. My cousin definitely does. She’s a good kid and has a good heart. Same with you. If you ever decide to do anything about those feelings of yours, just know that I approve.”
Jihoon nearly choked on his drink. “Wh–?”
“Oh, it was a secret?”
“Hyung!”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t say anything to her, don’t worry. And if you ask me, I’d say that you’re the only one on this planet that even has a chance. Well, except that girl from the cake shop.”
Jihoon sneered.
Fucking Woo Soyeon.
With her shiny hair and long eyelashes and doe eyes and tanned skin from her beach volleyball playing.
Giving out discounts to you like nobody’s business. Calling you cute and flirting nonstop while twirling a lock of her hair. Saying you’re her favorite customer. He could swear Woo Soyeon would throw a knowing smirk at him every time you stuttered a little too long when saying thank you.
That damned girl behind the counter, the one whose beauty and voice (“It’s just so velvety, you know? Like the chocolate cherry cakes.”) he knew you were smitten by.
She was even taller than him, especially in her heels.
At the ripe age of 15, Jihoon understood what jealousy was.
Because of fucking Woo Soyeon.
“Watch out, Jihoon. I can hear your thoughts all the way from over here.”
“Sorry.”
Your cousin laughed. “Trust me, you mean a lot more to her than cake counter girl. My cousin wanted all of us to go see the Christmas lights in the city together. You don’t see her inviting that cake counter girl, do you?”
Jihoon felt a weird sense of pride well up in his chest. Then immediately deflated. It felt stupid to feel like he won against a person who’s just trying to sell cakes to a loyal customer. “Hyung, how do you do it? You’d never let yourself get angry or jealous over stuff like this.”
The older of the two cocked an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”
“You wouldn’t get jealous over a cake counter girl.”
“Says who? I get jealous. It’s normal, you know. Jealousy isn’t inherently a bad thing. It’s just what you do with it, right? Like, just because you’re jealous of cake counter girl, does that mean you stop Y/N from going to that shop?”
“What? Why would I do that? She loves that shop.”
“Exactly. Emotional maturity doesn’t mean you stop yourself from feeling the emotion, it just means you learn how to handle it as it comes. And once you practice it enough, it becomes easier and easier.”
“You make it sound easy, but it’s not.”
“Hey, I’m not anything big and special myself.”
Jihoon shook his head. “Hyung, you’re a superhuman.”
“No, I’m just human and letting myself be that,” he corrected. “Trust me, there’s plenty of good people out there. A lot of them just aren’t making the decision to do so. It’s easier to be cruel, but. I want to prove that you can be kind and still be a man. We get to define what that means. If I decided to be cruel, to become what society says is ‘a man,’ then I have no doubt Y/N would lose trust in me, and probably, all men.”
Jihoon noticed that his hyung stared at him for a second.
“Actually, maybe not all men.”
Jihoon felt embarrassed, but also honored, at the implication. “Thanks, hyung. You know, for not making fun of me. And for admitting that you also feel those kinds of things.”
“Absolutely, I’m glad I could help.”
“I’m seriously still surprised that you’re single.”
“Yeah, well. That might not always be the case if I can figure out what to do.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well… you know your noona?”
──────────────────
Jihoon couldn’t help but shake his head at the way the events unfolded. Your cousin told him about his feelings for his future wife, but it still took a few years for anything to come out of that. He wondered whether being childhood friends had anything to do with it, as if the longer and deeper the bond, the riskier the chasm was to try to jump across.
However, your cousin still managed to do it.
“How did you do it, hyung?”
“Hm? What’s up?”
“Just… how did you manage to tell noona how you felt?”
The older man laughed. “You really think that it was me who confessed? No, no. It was her. I think she was tired of the back and forth that was happening between us. I mean, so was I, but I was a coward, but thankfully, she wasn’t. Now because of her saying that she loved me first, I get to be the one who says it last. Then we start again. It’s a dialogue, you see. It doesn’t matter who starts the line, as long as it continues.”
“Oh…”
“Am I proud that I was a coward? No. I sometimes wish it was me who said it first so she wouldn’t have any room for doubt. But we can’t go back and change the past, only commit to a better future. All of this to say, though, Jihoon, it’s been long enough of not saying anything between the two of you. I don’t think you want to wait any longer.”
“…yeah. I agree.”
That night, hours after preparing for the album, Jihoon’s fingers tapped away on his Notes app.
This waiting, it’s not easy to endure.
It was past 4am now.
But he didn’t want to wait any longer.
So, he switched apps and instead of a blank Note, he began typing into a message box.
i know its late. rehearsal never ends until 3am and i know that when u get texts you wake up even if ur phone is on silent bc the vibration wakes u up so im trying to type this all in one message so that it doesnt wake u up (hopefully) but i didnt want it to seem like i left u on read because i was upset or something. but i didnt want to message until i had the time to have a full conversation but i dont think thats happening any time soon anyway. when you see this i hope it makes sense im not sure if i am
A response from you was the last thing he expected, but you always managed to surprise him.
The first time he heard your voice directly in his ears, he thought he was going to spontaneously combust. But he tried to keep his voice level as he asked you about where you were leaning towards for your career.
The relief that rushed through him.
The hope that ignited in him.
That was the spark needed for him to explode.
And so he did, into words.
“I’m proud of you, you know?”
He heard your throaty stutter, one that only came out whenever you were really caught off guard. “Uh—what?”
“You got a whole ass PhD. From the best university in Korea,” Jihoon still couldn’t believe the two of you went to the same school. “You got offered a job at a super big school in America. One that’s super big in the field that you studied. You graduated from an even school for undergrad, a school that even I know the name of. And just… I know that people expect you to achieve because you’ve always been a genius, always so brilliant, but. You also work really hard. So I’m proud of you.”
He could barely hear your, “It’s not that big of a deal—” over the pounding in his ears.
“But it is, firefly.”
And suddenly he was brought back to all the years before. Where he spent more years in love with you than not. How that nickname encapsulated exactly as he saw you: inspiration, guidance, hope.
“I mean, I just—”
Your flustered response only encouraged him to continue. “You don’t have to believe me. But that won’t stop me from feeling it.”
“Jihoon, I—”
He didn’t realize just how much he’s missed hearing you say his name. But more than that, “I’ve missed you.”
There was a pause on your end, but he was done with his.
“I’ve missed you a stupid amount. Like us stealing your dad’s car to drive to McDonald’s at 3am and then running a red light on the way there. And then somehow almost hitting an entire flock of seagulls—” which he would never admit to being the reason he never wants to get behind the wheel again. “And then going to some random, deserted parking lot. And then realizing we didn’t know the way home, so we drove aimlessly, for, like, 45 minutes. And then panicking when we kept seeing the gas needle going down. That kind of stupid.”
He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he was naming a memory that you no doubt remember as well, it was near traumatizing. But there was something in him that didn’t want you to forget. He didn’t want himself to forget. Because…
If I forget someday, as if nothing is wrong,
Our future will be empty and sad.
It’s not that I want to forget you.
Ah, he made a mental note to switch to his Notes app later.
“I… I missed you too.”
Jihoon couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his cheeks, almost to the point of straining them. It was already so late and he still had enough function in his brain to know he ought to cut this short now. Otherwise, he’d be on the phone with you for an ungodly amount of time. “I have to sleep now, but. I just. I couldn’t not tell you. That’s all.”
“Okay.” Your voice sounded so small, he had to press his phone closer to his ear to ensure he didn’t miss anything.
“Get some sleep, firefly. Or should I call you, Dr. Firefly now?”
“That sounds like a cartoon villain.”
He laughed hard at that. You would say that. “Alright, we’ll just go with firefly then.”
‘We’ felt good on his tongue.
“Night, night, Jihoonie.”
“Sleep well, firefly.”
He told you he needed to sleep, but with the way that he was running on sheer endorphins from finally releasing some of that pressure inside of him, sleep was the furthest thing on his mind. Instead, he imagined you getting some well-deserved rest, wondering what kind of dreams you hoped to have.
You were falling asleep, he was falling in love.
──────────────────
In less than 24 hours, he was going to see you in person for the first time in years, no more needing to find YouTube videos or podcasts or news articles or social media posts.
Tomorrow, he’ll be face to face with you.
And the dorm was in chaos.
“He should wear the white button down!”
“No, he should wear something funky, with cool patterns!”
“What? Absolutely not, hyung! Jihoon-hyung looks best in plain clothing, his skin shines that way!”
“Well, he’s been avoiding his skincare, so that might not be the best route to go down.”
“Hoon is handsome no matter what!”
Jihoon was exhausted. Why were his members more invested in this than he was?
Even Soonyoung was getting giddy. And that was a problem. When it came to you, Soonyoung was his voice of reason, but after he relayed the phone call he had with you, Soonyoung was easily won over by your: ‘I missed you too.’
“I knew it!” The tiger had exclaimed.
(Jihoon wasn’t sure whether he did.)
Junhui was thriving off of the chaos and was now leaping across the wooden floor, with Jeonghan quickly on his tail, trying to coerce him into stopping and failing miserably. Seokmin was still trying to convince Seungkwan that a funky pattern was like how, in nature, peacocks showed off to their mates—“he’s not a bird, hyung!”—while Soonyoung kept interjecting saying that Jihoon was attractive no matter what so he could just wear a plastic bag (which earned him a gentle slap by Seokmin). Mingyu disappeared for a moment after Wonwoo’s off-handed comment about Jihoon’s skin, only to return with his skincare products that Jihoon knew were going to be slapped on him soon enough. Seungcheol kept repeating in an exasperated tone, “Stop fighting, we already got a noise complaint this week,” while Jisoo and Minghao were probably off in Jihoon’s closet trying to establish an outfit for him without his consent. Hansol was on his phone, noise-canceling earphones on, completely uninvolved in what was going on. Chan was only goading on whoever was the loudest in the moment (currently, Junhui).
Jihoon piped up. “Do I get an opinion on this?”
In near perfect synchronization (including the boys in his room), everyone responded with a, “No!”
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
God, tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.
[continue reading here]
#lee jihoon x reader#woozi x reader#seventeen fanfiction#svt fanfiction#seventeen#svt#세븐틴#lee jihoon#woozi#svt fic#seventeen fic#woozi fic#mine#seventeen scenarios#seventeen fanfic#seventeen imagines#seventeen fluff#seventeen x reader#seventeen drabbles#svt fluff#seventeen angst#svt x reader#Spotify#woozi x you#lee jihoon x you
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レイチュリ (Dr Ratio/Aventurine) rambling 🛁🦚
When it comes to Veritas, it's the things he doesn't say that are the loudest.
It's the way he tucks Aventurine into his arms; lips pressed to his messy blonde hair and breath fanning across his nape. The weight of him warm and light in his embrace. He holds him to his pulse, and Aventurine falls asleep to the sound of his heart. In the morning, the blanket will have shifted, as always, cradling him in the place of his good doctor.
It's the way Veritas always has breakfast with him, even when Aventurine tends to rest well into the morning. "I will be five system minutes late because of you," He will complain, as he discreetly moves a portion of his meal to Aventurine's plate. Then he will wait by the door, leaning down expectantly as Aventurine reaches up to place kisses along his cheek.
It's the way Veritas looks at him. His gaze doesn't soften. It grows more focused. He looks at every mole and scar like how man must have looked at the first dawn of creation. How worshippers look to the stars. And its not only for a fleeting moment; Veritas has spent nights losing sleep, poring over every inch of skin like he does with those studies he loves so much. Sometimes, when he thinks Aventurine isn't paying attention, he'll put his book down to watch his gambler flitting about in their home.
I love you. Veritas doesn't say. But Aventurine just knows.
this is self indulgent. the weeks have been drawing longer and longer, and they seem to drag on so slowly. so i'm sorry that this is so silly. but i cannot help it, i think that after everything, these two deserve a softer epilogue.
Dr Ratio Veritas is a sappy sap and an affectionate husband, but it comes off more in action than in words. He absolutely will NOT have a good day without his morning kisses. He is still a bastard but he is Aventurine's bastard.
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Addressing some fandom BS inconsistencies
Gwyn was shadow mommy, Az was shadow daddy, they were gonna have shadow babies with her extra super pliable bones.
I audibly chocked when I read this @nikethestatue (btw everything said in this post was on point). No but seriously this is how they sound, too many of them insisting that there is nothing wrong with basing the likelihood of a ship on who has the more suitable uterus to be with a man... cause supposedly they're just picking up on the hints SJM wrote for them? She likes babies for HEAs so ofc children are the end all be all of a relationship, plus there's absolutely no way that she could ever write an adoption plot SJM is literally adopted and has done it in other series. Selective reading strikes again.
A minimum amount of critical thinking would tell you that 1) the infamous *magical uterus change* scene was about nessian (& feysand), not about any ship; 2) if SJM had written Nesta changing Elain's uterus, it would have given too much away, not to mention 3) how disturbing/violating it would have been for Nesta to change her sister's reproductive anatomy WITHOUT HER CONSENT?! None of it makes sense narratively; my girl Nes would never, especially given the trauma they both suffered from having their bodily autonomy--and so much more--ripped away by the Cauldron.
This argument is so trivialized that I see it every other day on reddit/tiktok/*insert media app*, and yet elriels are the toxic side of the fandom? The ones whom people are allowed to insult, to ridicule for theories all made in good fun, the women that are villainized over a difference of opinion? Don't get me wrong, there's assholes on both sides and people keep calling one another variations of delulu (and the nastier personal attacks). But by painting this fandom-wide villain there is such a lack of accountability for the plethora of harmful talking points spread by other portions of the fandom. (I've been silently reading the anti-elain & anti-elriel tags for like a year, and I'm on tiktok. Yes, I have self-destructive tendencies).
Anyways.
I never understood either how people ever actually thought (or well still think) that gwynriel would happen BEFORE elucien?? It makes no sense logically, narratively, or in terms of characterization & the arc she's set up for Elain, Azriel, and Lucien. Yet it took one controversial bonus chapter for people to decenter Elain in her own story, that is make her choice of romantic partner--which SJM spent 3+ books setting up--Azriel's. It took one bonus chapter that soo many readers are still unaware of, to brush Elain off as a "sexual object" Az is using to distract himself until his therapist-extraordinaire Gwyn comes in and heals him all up. Because ofc she will: she's badass and not the "passive and weak and boring" Eplain (aka "Plant" or "brain dead gardener"), she fits the YA archetype of the spunky warrior-girl so she can handle his darkness, and SJM supposedly spent time fleshing her out because she wrote her as a LI for Azriel; she's made for him, she is what he needs to grow (I actually enjoyed Gwyn's character btw, just pointing out how silly it all sounds). “Next book is a love triangle between Elain/Az/Gwyn” “Elain will turn evil or is secretly evil”. So you're telling me that SJM would pit Elain & Gwyn against each other in a love triangle over a man... all because of a necklace that was not even mentioned once in the actual books? Please, let's be logical for a second.
All this because instead of reading the bonus chapter in the context of the books, some people are reading the books in the context of the bonus chapter. Which now that I think of it is probably why so many people mischaracterize Az the way they do--because yes we know enough of his character to know half of the stuff the fandom diagnoses him with is questionable. Azriel? Entitled incel x fuckboy hybrid (gotta be the first of his kind, minute slay ig)? Interesting tell me more. No joke I saw a semi-popular post on here where a gwynriel said they read the bonus WITHOUT HAVING READ ANY OF THE BOOKS. I'm sorry, ship wars are silly and believe it or not idc who ppl ship, but it makes it hard to take some of the things they say seriously.
All this to say that the fandom isn't even debating the right thing. If you consider everything SJM has said in her interviews:
(she's been planting seeds for Nesta & Elain's book since acomaf; she knows who she is writing the first 2 books about + is keeping things open for the 3rd one--with 5 different ship options--which automatically rules out "Elain will close the series"; she said she's doing research for Elain's book in the ACOFAS bonus & there's seeds for future bookS in acofas; all she said recently about her beloved *heroines* and the themes of fate/true love/choice she finds *very* interesting & wants to discuss)
and if you also consider all she's written in the actual books (elain's characterization + the overarching plot in general & how she fits into it), then it's pretty evident that Elain's book is next.
The question then would be who is the MMC / 2nd PoV in her book, aka would acotar 5 be an elucien or an elriel story? Because logically, gwynriel was always a consequence of elucien. I honestly do not understand how people don't see that.
Oh and they always think they're gagging elriels with the "obviously Azriel is the next MC" as if elriels aren't saying the same thing? And we're the ones twisting info and not making sense. It's just funny at this point.
---sidenote: I realize that this post generalizes some things, and I just wanted to say that I have interacted with lovely eluciens / people on either side of this headache of a ship war. My hard limit is Elain haters though... back off I say 🤺 BACK OFF 🤺
---sidenote 2: I would have written this as a reblog except im not entirely sure how tumblr works and I get no visibility from them rip.
#please be so for real rn#elain archeron#anti gwynriel#anti nonsense#acotar 5#elriel#pro elriel#pro elain#pro azriel#sjm interview#azriel bonus chapter#nesta archeron#elucien
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[spins the Silm Headcanons Nobody Else Shares (Yet) wheel]
Though Elrond was, inevitably, involved in the politics of building Lindon, he was not only NOT Gil-Galad’s official herald yet at the start of the Second Age, but he was only tangentially involved with the new government. Instead, Elrond spent the first few centuries of the Second Age as an adventuring anthropologist/archeologist.
He traveled around Lindon, and inland and up and down the shore, talking to all variety of refugees and recording the histories and cultures of their people, from ancient myths to recent war stories to how this group of Men (or Elves or Dwarves) cooks their porridge vs how that one does. He dug and sometimes dove into ruins of forts rent by Light and Shadow, often with foul lingering malaise, to retrieve papers and goods warped by flame, sea, and worse.
Because Elrond’s childhood was filled with many refrains of loss, and one was,
“This is how we baked nutcakes in Menegroth!” his mother explained, hands sticky with chestnuts and honey. Under her breath, not meaning her even stickier sons to hear, she added, “I think.”
“Oh yes, there were…” Eärendil’s fingers twitched as he counted in his head. “…eleven different major fountains in Gondolin! One for each Great House, though all were managed by Lord Ecthelion—oh, no, but then that must be ten…?”
“Now, in a proper course of musical education, I would be starting you on basic dancing songs today. But Filúriel is the only one of us left who knows how to dance a good gavotte—”
“Filúriel died three years ago. Orcs on the way back from Sirion.” Maedhros didn’t look up from the daggers he was sharpening. Only his words gave any indication that he was even aware of the lesson taking place across the room.
“—But there is no one left who knows how to dance a good Tirion Gavotte.” Maglor never missed a beat. “So instead I will start you on basic Songs for striking fear into the hearts of your enemies. Have you both done your warm-up exercises today?”
[smash cut to 200 years later]
Elrond: Are you telling me. That there is a chance. That a portion of the Great Library of Thargelion, greatest collection in Beleriand of books and art brought physically from Aman, is still intact?
Random improbably still alive Nargothrond-Fëanorian #6: If the cases were water-proof as well as orc-proof and fire-proof…if they were orc-proof and fire-proof at all…especially dragonfire-proof…or dragon-ice-proof… If they stayed hidden, if we even shut them all properly in the first place, as we evacuated just ahead of the— my lord, where are you going?!
Elrond, sprinting past them down the corridor: Deep-sea diving!
(In the late Third Age, the Library of Rivendell is widely regarded as Arda’s single greatest repository of historical records of life in Middle Earth. This is incorrect—the single greatest such repository is an ever-growing library on Tol Eressëa, to which Elrond spent 3000 years sending copies of everything from Hobbit almanacs to Dwarvish epic poems to account books from three Elvish kingdoms to an Age’s worth of Dúnedain Ranger journals. Anyone Sailing with extra cargo space has been cajoled into taking at least a few tomes. People and places may be lost to time, but part of why he chose an Elvish life is so that they will not be forgotten.)
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Hii! I love your writing and I was wondering if you could write something with domestic vibes with Charles. Just something really fluff and homie because lately I can't stop thinking about how good he would be at home, you know? He gives me such good boyfriend and family guy vibes, especially after the vlog he recorded in Monaco where he says he wants to have three children 🥺❤️
https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMNsm1CXW/
Charles was barely through the door when you found yourself hung at his neck, resulting in a small huff from your lover as he took you in before he even got to say hi.
“I missed you,” You whispered in the crook of his neck, your favorite place to hide your face in.
“I missed you too,” He replied in the same quiet tone.
You didn’t have to say much else, as he let his bag fall to the floor in a controlled thud so his hands would be free to grab your thighs and hoist them high on his own hips, so you wouldn’t be in an uncomfortable position anymore. He kissed the tender skin of your neck and inhaled the scent of your shampoo, bypassing the couch where you had been reading your book to go straight to bed. It was well past midnight in Monaco and you had been trying your best to stay awake for him to come back home, to come back to you. Your eyes had dozed off a couple times but you had valiantly fought and came victorious as you managed to witness him walk through the front door of your shared apartment.
“What did you do this weekend?” He quietly asked.
“I cleaned the bathroom between the FP3 and the qualis,” You yawned. “I baked a cake, there’s still a good portion of it in the oven, waiting for you. Also, I read an entire book, because it was really good.”
“That’s nice,” He nodded, the tip of his nose caressing your cheek. “Have you managed to call the moving company?”
“I did,” You confirmed. “They said they had everything to bring your new piano here, we only have to call them back to confirm the day and hour. I prebooked a slot for next week, because you should be home by then.”
“Amazing. I have to go in Nice tomorrow to grab a few things, do you need anything?”
“Can you bring back those sweets I like? The violet ones?”
“Sure, my love.”
���Also, we need toilet paper.”
“That I can grab as well.”
There was something strangely soothing about getting Charles back after a racing weekend, where he was drowned in glamour and glitz, only to get back to the very mundane things of life like grabbing toilet paper and planning a delivery. His hands couldn’t find a resting spot and they kept toying with the little thread of your sweatpants, though their fave place remained the skin on your hips. The taste of his skin wasn’t that different than usual but you learned to recognize the faint smell of rubber and gasoline that stuck to every pore of his face and to his hair, which you liked. Because if you smelled those, that meant you had just spent several days without him, but he finally was back where you wanted him most: next to you.
“I’m exhausted,” Charles yawned.
“Me too,” You murmured.
“Let’s not pretend we’re amazing people with social lives and let’s just go to bed,” Charles suggested. “I need a quick shower and then, I’m off.”
“Seems like the best idea you could get,” You confirmed. “I’ll wait for you.”
“If you say so,” Charles kissed the tip of your nose.
He knew you wouldn’t be able to follow through with your promise, but he didn’t care. And sure enough, when he came back to the bedroom, his hair damp and his torso still glistening with a few droplets of water, you were fast asleep in the middle of your bed. Charles sleepily smiled at your starfish position and gently grabbed you to pull you back slightly in your half of the bed, so he could have more than thirty centimetres of the mattress to sleep on. He pulled the covers back on you, kissed your forehead and slipped right beneath you, so your head would rest on his chest. You sleepily kissed his sternum and he hummed in response, ready to drift off for good.
You didn’t need him to bring back shiny diamonds and expensive champagne, from the tracks he lived at more than your home. You only needed him to come back to you, and luckily, that’s what he always did.
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I Understand, It Wasn’t Your Fault
Pairings: Shuri Udaku x fem!reader
Summary: An attack on Wakanda leaves your girlfriend feeling stressed and guilty. That stress causes her to have a nightmare, and she accidentally hurts you.
Word Count: 1,617
Your POV:
"Hey beautiful," Shuri said as she walked into your shared bedroom.
She had spent a good portion of the day in her lab, working on improvements for her suit. There was a recent attack on Wakanda that had left everyone pretty shaken up. Although Shuri and the Dora Milaje had handled it phenomenally, there were still some unfortunate casualties and your girlfriend couldn't help but blame herself.
She was now the Black Panther. The protecter of Wakanda and she thought she should've been able to save them. You of course knew that it was practically unavoidable and there wasn't really anything she could've done to change that. But, she still felt like she had let everyone down.
"Oh hey, you finally done?" you asked her looking up from your book.
She made her way into your wardrobe to get some more comfortable clothes, "Not yet. I just needed a break, so I thought I might as well be done for the day." she smiled at you while changing.
You just hummed and grabbed a bookmark from your nightstand to mark your page before setting the book down.
"What have you been up to all day, hm? I'm sorry I didn't spend much time with you today. I just really want to get this done and-" she started to say as she climbed into bed with you, but you interrupted her before she could start rambling.
"It's okay, Shuri. You don't need to apologize, I understand. I haven't been up to a lot today. Just helping out with the clean up in town and I started that book you got me." you reassured her and then answered the question.
You noticed the change in her demeanor when you said that. Her smile faltered and then faded as she looked down at her hands.
"Hey? Hey baby, what's wrong?" you asked, concerned.
"I-" she started, but hesitated.
"You know you can tell me anything." you reminded her.
"It's not fair how you have to clean up my mess. If it wasn't for me, then the town wouldn't look like it does right now. I could have prevented everything that happened, but I just wasn't good enough. You almost got hurt too. The only reason you were in the building that was bombed was because I asked you to pick up something for me. I was supposed to protect you, but instead I put you in danger. It was my fault." she admitted her bottled up feelings to you for the first time.
Hearing how she was feeling was hard for you because you didn't know how much she was effected by this. Especially how she's blaming herself for you having been involved in it.
"Shuri, none of that was your fault. You couldn't have predicated that attack. Even if you did, people were bound to get hurt. But it was all unavoidable. You and Dora Milaje did the best you could do and you kept all of these other people safe. You protected us just like you always do even if it doesn’t feel like it."
You were trying to get her to stop being so hard on herself. She sighed and nodded her head.
"I know, I'm sorry, angel. I don't mean to burden you with all of this or make you feel like I'm neglecting you while I work on my suit. I just think it'll really help me once I’m done with it.” she said.
"You could never burden me. I'm always here for you, and I understand that you need to spend a little more time in the lab. If you think that those improvements are what's best, then I'll support you while you do it. Just promise me you'll talk to me whenever you feel like this." you reasoned with her.
"I promise." she said, gently smiling down at you. She put her hand on your cheek and stroked her thumb over it.
"You know I love you so much, Y/N." she whispered.
"I know, I love you too." you told her and she leaned down to softly press her lips onto yours, giving you a loving kiss.
When you pulled away, she turned off the lamp on the bedside table as you both laid down and cuddled into each other, falling asleep for the night.
~~~
Second Person POV:
You've been peacefully asleep for a couple hours, the sound of the fan being the only noise in the room. That was until you were woken up by your girlfriend mumbling in her sleep.
When you opened your eyes, you were confused as to why your body had woken you up. But that confusion was topped by concern when you heard your girlfriend talking in her sleep.
Her words were incoherent and incomprehensible as she was fast asleep, but when she began to slowly thrash around, you were now aware that she was having a nightmare.
Shuri has had nightmares before, but none as recent and intense as this one. You would normally give her little taps on her shoulder to gently wake her up instead of completely startling her awake. But when you tapped on her shoulder this time, what you expected to happen was not what actually occurred.
"Shuri, baby. Come on wake up." you whispered as you nudged her shoulder.
She then suddenly shot up, sitting upright in the bed. You were startled by how quickly she moved, but your surprised reaction was interrupted when you felt a hand roughly grabbed your neck and put pressure around it, effectively cutting off your airway.
Your eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness of the room, so you were able to make out that it was Shuri who was choking you.
"Shuri-" you tried to say but it came out quiet and breathy as you were struggling to breath. You resulted in tapping and prying at her hand that was around you neck, trying to get her to release you.
But when that didn't work, you started to try to move away from her, but you were finding it very difficult to because of the grip she had on you.
Just as your eyes were about to roll back, indicating that you were going to pass out from the lack of oxygen, Shuri let go of your neck and you gasped for air.
When you were finally able to get air back into your lungs, you could focus Shuri. She still looked very tired, but she had her hand covering her mouth, speechless at what she had just done.
You were able to come to the conclusion that she was just now waking up from her nightmare. The intensity of the dream was much higher than normal, and being woken up from it had caused her to react like she was in danger. So you knew that she was not fully conscious for everything that had just happened.
"Oh my god," she whispered to herself, looking at the hand she had around your neck.
"Shuri-"
"I- I did that? I hurt you." she said in disbelief, cutting you off.
"You weren't conscious you-"
"I just choked you. I hurt you." muttered to herself, realizing what she had just done.
"Shuri you were reacting from a nightmare, you were unconscious and unaware." you told her. You knew it wasn't her fault and you admit you were still a little stunned, but right now you need Shuri to know that she wasn't to blame.
"Y/N I almost killed you! How are you not afraid of me?" she was crying now.
"Because I know that it was your body's instinct to protect itself while you were asleep. I was the one who tried to wake you up which triggered that fight or flight response. I know you would never do that if you were conscious, baby please." you told her softly, cupping her cheeks.
You didn't want her to feel guilty for it. She was already stressed from everything that had just happened a few days ago, and that stress resulted in this intense nightmare that you woke her up from.
"I- I hurt you, Y/N. I- choked you and-" you interrupted her as she began to cry harder, so she was stuttering.
"Shh its okay. I’m okay." you said as you put your arms around her neck to pull her into a hug.
She was hesitant to hug you back as she was still afraid she'd hurt you again. But she eventually put her arms around your waist and buried her face in your neck.
You spent a few minutes like that, letting her calm down and process everything she was feeling right now.
"I'm sorry." she whispered into your neck.
"I know, I know. It's okay, I don't put you at fault." you quickly reassured her.
"How about we go back to sleep, try to get a few hours of good rest, and then in the morning you can tell me about your nightmare, mkay?" you asked.
She looked dubious about going back to sleep, worried she have another dream and possibly hurt you again, but she complied, nodding her head as she was still really tired.
You laid back down and this time you held her, wanting her to know that she was safe with you and you weren't scared of her.
"I love you, darling. Don't say it back right now. I just want you to hear that I really love you." she said and you kissed her head.
The rest of the night was uninterrupted, and you let her ramble to you in the morning, wanting her to talk about her stress so that this hopefully doesn’t happen again.
#shuri#mcu shuri#shuri imagine#shuri x you#shuri fluff#shuri angst#shuri x y/n#letitia wright shuri#shuri x reader
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Steddie outsider POV pt. 5
AO3
Pt. 1 Robin
Pt. 2 Wayne
Pt. 3 Wayne's Boyfriend
Pt. 4 Will
Tommy Hagan isn’t proud of the person he was in high school. If he’s honest, he isn’t proud of the person he was for most of college either. But by the end of college, he’d had enough experiences and met enough people that challenged his previous worldviews to realize who he was wasn't who he wanted to be. And he had the ability to change. So he did.
He feels like a good portion of the last eight years of his life has been doing penance for the first twenty. So when he gets the Hawkins High School Reunion invitation in the mail, his first impulse is not to go. He hasn’t been in contact with his former friends since two days after graduation when he packed up his car and left Hawkins for good; there’s no reason for him to inflict his presence on the people he used to torment.
But (and this is the ‘but’ that makes him reconsider).
Steve might be there.
And Steve sits apart from everyone else, because Tommy does want to see him. Not desperately, not like he’s been pining all these years. But he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t had thoughts. That he hasn’t wondered.
He’s learned a lot in the last decade. About himself and his—embarrassingly clear now—preference for men. And in the process he learned that ‘practicing kissing’ with your best friend was not a normal heterosexual activity. Which means Steve, maybe, has realized the same sorts of things about himself. And it’s not like he thinks they’ll see each other again after all this time and fall into each other's arms but…well. He’s Steve. And if Tommy has a chance with him, no matter how small, he’s still going to take it.
He responds yes to the invitation. He books his flights.
He works out a bit more than usual in the weeks leading up to it.
No reason.
His primary objective, of course, cannot be hoping to seduce Steve. His first priority needs to be making amends. So when the day finally arrives and he puts on his suit and the cab drops him at the familiar front roundabout, he walks through the double doors, picks up his name tag, and starts his apology tour.
It takes a while.
By the time he’s made a circuit of the badly decorated gymnasium and apologized to everyone who’ll let him approach them, it’s been an hour. He’s managed to mostly avoid his former friends and feels he deserves the beer he’s just freed from the slushy water in the ice chest.
And that’s when he sees him: Steve Harrington.
He looks good. Better, even, than Tommy had expected. He’s wearing a plain white T, aviator sunglasses tucked in the collar, and black jeans. Lace up black boots. His hair is almost exactly the same, maybe a little longer, than the last time Tommy saw him a decade before. Not even a hint of a receding hairline, damn him.
Tommy would think no time had passed at all if not for the full sleeve of tattoos on his left arm and long-healed scars on his right, the fact that his shoulders are a little broader, his chest a little thicker. Clearly he never stopped working out, unlike the majority of the former basketball team members milling about around them.
He looks like a fucking rock star. Or a movie star. And clearly Tommy is not the only one who has noticed. Within seconds Steve has gathered a crowd and Tommy can’t help but push his way into the fringe of it, watching Steve smile politely and gently shrug off more than one woman’s touch. He shifts his cup to his left hand and takes a long, pointed, drink.
There’s a wedding band on his finger.
Tommy knows he shouldn’t be surprised. He didn’t honestly think something was going to happen between them. But then again, a ring might not even mean much. He’s spent weekends with men who play straight Monday through Friday plenty of times.
Steve meets his eye and smiles cautiously behind the rim of his cup. “Tommy. Hey.”
Fuck. Maybe he does still have a chance.
“Hey,” he says, and then, to the larger group, “ladies, do you mind if I steal Steve for a minute?”
A few of them whine like they’re still in high school, Stacy Ferguson actually twirls her hair, but they let Steve leave with him and they meander toward one of the cocktail tables under the basketball goal.
“You look good,” Steve says. Tommy can’t decide if he should read anything into that.
“Me? Have you seen yourself? And I thought you were insufferable in high school.”
He laughs, scrubbing a hand through the back of his hair.
“Listen,” Tommy says. “I know I was a massive dick to you, there at the end, that I was…generally a shitty person in high school, and I’ve always wanted to apologize to you. I’ve been apologizing to a lot of people today. But you were––you were important to me. And I regret how we ended things. So. I’m sorry.”
Steve considers him, a little pinch between his brows that is winding in its familiarity. “I appreciate the apology. What brought about the change of heart, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“College. Maturity. New York, in general.”
“Getting out of the echo chamber that is Hawkins?” He says knowingly.
Tommy points at him.
“You still in New York?” Steve asks.
“Yeah. Lawyer. Just like dad always wanted. You?”
Steve whistles. “Nothing so impressive. We own a music venue in San Fran, but that sounds fancier than it is. I mostly split my time between playing bouncer and playing bartender.”
San Fran. Tommy tries to catch Steve’s eye. Tries to see if there’s an underlying message there. But Steve is smiling over Tommy’s shoulder at something.
“We?” Tommy repeats.
“Me and my husband,” Steve says distractedly, like the word doesn’t fucking—doesn’t take Tommy out at the knees.
“Your…what?” he asks blankly.
Except Steve is full-out grinning now and raises his voice to shout, “speak of the devil!”
Someone slides past Tommy, all leather and hair and chains and throws an arm around Steve’s shoulders.
“And the devil shall appear,” Eddie Munson crows.
Eddie. Munson.
Who looks much the same as he did in high school, albeit with more tattoos and scars down his neck and arm that look strangely similar to the scars on Steve’s arm. Tommy gets stuck for a moment comparing them before he notices something else.
Eddie’s left hand is hanging down to cup Steve’s pec. And there’s a gold wedding band, stark amongst the other silver rings on his hand. It matches the one Steve’s wearing.
“What the fuck,” he says quietly.
“Well, shit,” Eddie says. “Hagan, did we break you?”
Steve purses his lips. “Let’s just give him a minute to process.” He turns to face Eddie fully, speaking quietly into the pocket of space between them. “You still sure?”
“I am literally grabbing your boob right now, I don’t know how much more obvious a claim I can stake here unless you want me to stick my tongue in your mouth. Which even I find ill-advised in this particular setting.”
“Just saying. Rental car doesn’t have a bat in the trunk and we’ve both had too many concussions already.”
“Like we haven’t been up against far worse odds and survived. Don’t worry, Stevie, I’ll protect your pretty head. So would Hagan, I bet. He owes us. Right?”
Tommy thinks he might be dead. That his plane went down and this is some sort of death-bed hallucination.
But then again, if this was something his brain had engineered, he’d be the one holding on to Steve’s pec.
Eddie’s looking at him like he's fully aware of what Tommy is thinking.
“Say,” Eddie says quietly, not exactly mean, but certainly not friendly, “did you know that shit you two used to get up to was actually really gay?”
“I…figured that out,” he says faintly, “yeah.”
“Makes the things you used to call me feel a little hypocritical now in retrospect, huh?”
“Yeah,” he repeats, and then, with remembered urgency: “I’m not out.”
The edge to Eddie’s expression softens. “No kidding, buddy. You’re safe with us. Despite the fact that you were a grade A asshole to me and, more importantly, you broke Stevie’s heart a little.”
“He was just apologizing for that.” Steve says.
“I don’t—how long have you two—“
“Eight years,” Steve says.
“Three months, one week and four days,” Munson adds, drumming his fingers on Steve’s collarbone.
“But who’s counting,” Steve says fondly.
“Me,” Munson says, “obviously.”
“Eight years,” Tommy repeats.
“Three months, one week and four days,” Munson repeats.
“How?”
“An excellent, and fair, question,” Munson says, gesturing to himself. “Considering.”
“Eddie,” Steve says warningly.
Munson rolls his eyes. “I fell for him, oh, I’d guess about the same time you did, Tommy boy. Took him a few years to catch up to me, but after my heroic actions during the, uh, earthquake the year after you left, he tended my wounds and I won him over with my subtle wit and ebullient charm.”
“You are a delight,” Steve says. Tommy thinks he’s trying to be sarcastic but he doesn’t pull it off very well.
“And then,” Eddie drops his voice, leaning into Tommy, dragging Steve with him since they’re still attached, “I kept him ensorcelled with my sexual prowess.”
“Eddie,” Steve hisses.
“Yes dear?”
It is, unfortunately, all too easy for Tommy to picture them…together. He can feel his face flushing, something he’d always hoped he’d grow out of and never did.
“You got anyone in your life, now?” Steve asks, earnest as ever.
“Not currently, no. Are you really––are you just. Out?”
“Not always,” Steve says. He reaches up, touches the ring on Eddie’s hand like it’s a habitual gesture. “But we’ve got the privilege of not having to hide in our daily life. Makes us a little more stupid when we go other places.”
“A little more brave, darling,” Eddie murmurs. “We’re calling it bravery.”
“You’re calling it bravery.”
“Well,” Tommy says. “I’m here for you. I guess.” He hasn’t been in a fight in a while but he figures it’s like riding a bike. And Eddie is right. He does owe them. Then again, looking around the gym, he doesn’t think anyone here would risk a fight with them anyway. Over half the people present probably still think Munson is a serial killer.
“Just as I suspected,” Munson says. “Welcome to the team.”
“The team?”
Eddie gestures behind him with the hand that isn’t still clamped on Steve’s chest. “Gareth and the boys are in the old Hellfire room, Jonathan should be here in another ten minutes, Nance was talking to someone in the parking lot last I saw her and Robin is––”
“Present!” Robin Buckley chorales, skipping forward to crash into Eddie’s back. She presses an obnoxious kiss first to Eddie’s cheek, and then shoves her face in between their heads to get to Steve’s. She narrows her eyes at Tommy.
“Hagan.”
“Buckley.”
Her eyes narrow even further. “Tommy Hagan knows my name,” she says, sotto voice to Eddie. “Should we find this suspicious?”
“Steve was friends with you senior year,” Tommy explains. And that’s probably saying too much, but he’s already clearly lost his footing in this conversation.
“Mm,” she agrees. “I sure was. Since other people ditched him for showing a modicum of moral backbone.”
“He was just apologizing for that,” Steve says.
“Good.”
Tommy remembers the beer in his hand with relief. He drains half of it.
“Shall we mingle?” Eddie murmurs, sounding far too excited about the prospect.
“As you wish,” Steve says magnanimously.
Tommy follows them.
***
He has fun, is the thing.
And he doesn’t have to fight anyone.
Eddie is actually kind of hilarious, walking a tightrope between goading and endearing. And Robin—she’d give some of the guys at his firm a run for their money in quick-witted comebacks. She also can dance, which Tommy finds out about ten minutes after the shitty band starts playing and she grabs his hand, asking if he still knew how to lindy hop. And he does, he just has no idea how she knew that he knew and he doesn’t get the chance to ask before she’s dragging him to the middle of the pathetic dance floor. They stay there for a while, garnering praise and envious glances and they keep an eye out for Eddie and Steve but it’s become clear that no one is going to try and start something. Even the guys who sneer at them when their backs are turned aren’t willing to say anything to their faces. Separately, they’re impressive enough, but together, they’re imposing. And they both move with just a hint of something dangerous in their posture. Something…feral. Maybe. His eyes keep lingering on their scars. They aren’t knife wounds. He’s seen those. These look like teeth. But that doesn’t make any sense.
Regardless, as the night starts to wind down, he’s pretty sure it’s the most fun he’s had in years. He never could have imagined when he was booking his tickets that he would end up sitting on the bleachers with Robin Buckley leaning against his arm, watching as Eddie Munson—who had cajoled or possibly bribed, the band to let him borrow their guitar—plays an unhinged metal cover of Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! by ABBA.
When he finishes, Eddie gives a flourishing bow, returns the guitar, and then steps directly into Steve’s arms, hands bracketing Steve’s neck, leaning in to kiss him like they don’t give a fuck they’re in the middle of Hawkins Indiana.
It’s—Jesus.
He doesn’t know what it is.
But it sure is something.
“Gentlemen,” Robin calls, “shall we adjourn? Hop and Joyce are waiting and it’ll be their bedtime in another hour.”
“Hop?” Tommy asks.
“Chief Hopper,” Robin explains. “He’s basically Steve’s adopted father. Well. One of them, anyway.”
“Oh,” Tommy says faintly. “Does he…know?”
“For sure. He’s cool as a cucumber. Been to visit us in California at least once a year since we moved.”
“Didn’t he arrest Munson multiple times?”
“Eh, water under the bridge. They’re best buds, now. They talk on the phone every Sunday while Eddie works in the garden. And Eddie is the planner, so he’s the one that schedules their visits. They conspire to keep Steve happy and healthy.”
“That’s…good.” Tommy says.
“It is.”
Robin pats his arm, pulling him to stand with her. “You know, you could visit us too, if you wanted. Eddie and Steve have a guest bedroom and my girlfriend and I have a very nice pull-out couch.” She eyes him seriously, the levity leaving her voice. “You used to mean something to Steve,” she says, “maybe you could again. If you wanted.”
He does.
He watches Eddie swing Steve around in a farce of a Waltz, both of them laughing. He watches Nancy and Jonathan join them—Nancy leading. He glances at Robin beside him. He thinks he might want to mean something to all of them. If that’s an option.
“Are you serious?” He asks.
“Yeah, of course.”
“That would be nice,” he says.
Eddie and Steve draw even with them, still laughing, fingers linked together.
“Hagan,” Eddie says. “When’s your flight out?”
“Not until tomorrow night,” he says.”I’m staying at the Greenbriar.”
“Good, you’re coming with us to Hopper’s, then.”
He meets Eddie’s eyes. He can’t exactly read what’s there, but he’s grateful for whatever it is.
“I’d like that.” He says.
They emerge into the parking lot with a burst of cool evening air and Tommy inhales slowly, face tipped up to the sky. For all the perks of New York, you certainly didn’t get stars like this there.
“I’m riding with Hagan,” Robin says.
“I’m riding—“ Eddie starts, but he doesn’t get to finish because everyone present aside from Tommy starts shouting over him.
Steve leans in, presses his face into Eddie’s hair and says something that makes him cackle.
“We’ll see you there,” he shouts to no one in particular, “maybe a couple minutes late, though.”
“And this is why I’m riding with you,” Robin says. “Also why you might want to stay with me if you visit. They got comfortable in the honeymoon phase and decided to never leave which is, you know, great for them and really fucking annoying for everyone else.”
Tommy unlocks his rental but can’t seem to stop watching as Steve and Eddie approach their own car—Steve exaggeratedly opening the door for Eddie while Eddie pretends to swoon.
He watches as King Steve and Eddie the freak Munson peel out of the Hawkins High parking lot, windows down, a guitar riff blaring, hands linked on the gearshift.
Robin Buckley is in his passenger seat, messing with the radio and giving him largely unhelpful driving directions to Chief Hopper's house.
This is not what he expected from this trip.
But he’s not at all upset about it.
Not at all.
He’s become pretty jaded in the last few years; a combination of his job, politics, romantic encounters, and existing, in general. But watching Steve and Eddie’s taillights fade as they turn onto the main road, Tommy thinks that maybe he still believes in happy endings.
#steddie#steddie fic#outsider pov#outsider pov steddie#myfic#steve harrington/eddie munson#eddie/steve#stranger things#tommy hagan
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Can I request undertaker x female reaper reader where, even though nobody thinks it's possible for reapers to get pregnant, reader starts having morning sickness, but her and undertaker just think she's sick and find out she's pregnant?
What would doting husband undertaker be like? What would he do the first time he feels the baby kick?
I like to think that this would only happen if two reapers have a love that is beyond the rules of the universe.
AND AUNTIE GRELL WOULD BE A THING!!!
YESSS!! omg i absolutely love this.
title; family
warnings; pregnancy, overload of cuteness and adrian being the happiest father-to-be alive (or unalive, technically).
It started out small, the signs. You would start feeling nauseous, especially in the mornings. At first, it was only the feeling, but then it would turn into you bent over the toilet, throwing up. Your husband was worried the first time it happened, because reapers couldn't get sick. Or, they weren't supposed to, anyway. For one to be throwing up was a bad sign. (And he couldn't help but immediately think Thorns, even if that wasn't a typical Thorns symptom.)
But then it continued. For days. Some days, you would just curl up under the blanket and not want to be disturbed. Other days, you spent a good portion of your morning in the bathroom. On week two of this, your husband was starting to suspect you weren't actually sick at all.
But how could his suspicion be right? Reapers were dead humans, without the ability to conceive or create life.
Yet that pregnancy test on the bathroom sink said otherwise.
His wide eyes stared right back at you, then slowly drifted down to your stomach. Of course, he wouldn't see any bump yet, but there was new life in your womb. Life both of you had created.
And impossibly, his dream of being a father had come true.
You both weren't with Dispatch anymore, but you were still friends with Grelle. She had been your best friend before you left, so how could you not share this news? You also wanted answers, though. How were you pregnant?
"From all I know, it has something to do with the pureness of a reaper's love," she explained one day, sitting both of you down. "Apparently, if your love is true and pure, despite all this being a punishment, you can be rewarded with a child. Nothing is more pure than a child, so it's supposed to be a representation of your own connection. A symbol, if you will, of how strong your love is that you can overcome a fundamental reaper law and conceive."
You blinked. "So... Adrian and I's love is so strong we were able to conceive?"
"Pretty much." Her eyes lit up. "I will be the best aunt your child will ever have! I'll bring them lots of presents and show them the best ways to reap and-"
"Okay, slow down," you laughed. "One thing at a time, Grelle. First, Adrian and I need to process this."
"Well, alright, but once you're done processing, let me know. We're going to get you maternity clothes!"
Adrian was the absolute picture of a doting husband the second he had the confirmation. Not that he wasn't before, but now he was practically by your side every second. You were feeling a little suffocated, yes, but to be honest, his excitement was adorable. He had come home one day loaded with books. Not the ones of the medical variety, though. Baby names. All kinds of baby names.
You laughed as he set all of them down, spread out on the couch in your living room. You wore a silk robe, one he had gotten for you after you complained your other robe felt too itchy on your skin. Nothing but the best for the mother of my child, he'd insisted.
"Did you just go out and get all of those?" You teased, one hand resting on your swollen belly. You were five and a half months along by now, and you were getting to the point where Adrian had to do much of the work around the house by himself. "Oh my god, Adrian, how many books did you buy?"
"A book merchant owed me favors," he shrugged, a silly grin on his face. "I was quite convincing when I suggested he give all these to me."
Threatened, more like. You just smiled and shook your head, watching as Adrian sat down beside you. "I thought we wanted to wait on names until closer to my due date."
"Well, why not now? We can make a list and see what feels right then!" He leaned over to kiss you sweetly, one hand rubbing your bump. "I want to be completely prepared for our child, luv."
"In that case, I cannot argue." You sighed contentedly as you laid back down. "Damnit. I forgot my water again."
"I'll get it." He was immediately up to go get it. You heard him shuffling in the kitchen for a moment, before he went quiet. Then... "Luv, no offense, but perhaps I should take care of doing the dishes from now on."
With a frown, you struggled up and walked over to the kitchen. "What? Why?"
He chuckled as he glanced towards the sink, where... Oh. You had been making a snack earlier, and put the dirty plate in the sink and the celery in the fridge. But apparently, pregnancy brain had kicked in again, because the celery was in the dirty dish pile. You didn't need to look to know the dish was probably in the fridge. "Ah... Perhaps you might be right. In my defense, I got hungry!" You whined playfully. "You can't hold this against me."
"I will certainly tease you about it," he laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Nonstop."
"Hey! I am carrying your child, so I'm sorry if I got things mixed up." You pouted, making him kiss your cheek.
"And you look absolutely beautiful while doing both," he reassured you. You couldn't stay mad while he was being all doting, so you sighed and gave in.
"You'd better think so." You poked his nose playfully before waddling back to your place on the couch. You winced, suddenly. "Adrian!"
He practically came running, worried something had happened by the tone of your voice. "What?!" You just grabbed his hand and placed it on your belly, shushing him. A moment passed, then... The baby kicked again, and his eyes widened.
"Was that...?"
"That was our baby, my love. They kicked!"
He knelt in front of you, keeping his hand there. "Hi, baby," he whispered, kissing your belly. "Can you hear me? It's your father."
"I don't know if they can hear you," you teased.
"If you can, I want you to know I love you so much already. Your mother and I cannot wait to meet you," he continued, smiling up at you. Nothing came again, and you saw how he looked quite disappointed, but you reassured him there would be more kicks.
Three and a half months passed by rather quickly, leading to the birth of your very healthy baby girl.
She was the most precious thing in the universe. You stared at your daughter in awe as she slept in your arms, face scrunched up. Adrian was right beside you, sniffling quietly. Your husband rarely ever cried, but you would be upset if the birth of his own daughter wasn't one of the times he did. "She's beautiful," you whispered.
"Absolutely perfect," he agreed softly. "Both of my girls are. I... I can't thank you enough for giving me a family, my love. I never thought..." His voice broke. "I'm a father. I'm really a father now..."
"And I know you'll be the best one ever."
You went to say more, but you were interrupted by Grelle coming into the room in a flurry of excitement. "Is that her?!" She gasped excitedly, leaning over you. "She's beautiful, darling! Lots of hair for a newborn!"
You rolled your eyes in amusement, but you were happy your daughter would have an aunt. And one sure to be as crazy and wonderful as Grelle.
You loved your family.
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I love the kiss. I love it precisely because it's so messy and imperfect and not at all how either of them would have wanted it, if things had been just right. Because, that's the thing, it's never just right. They spent a large portion of the season trying to arrange these perfect little scenarios for love and where did that get them? They're not in a movie or a book.
It was all just more code. More useful fiction. Just another apology dance. Just more ways to say things without actually touching any of the mess that they so desperately need to touch if they're ever truly going to connect.
So, no, it wasn't good but it was honest. It was raw. It was a desperate pouring of emotion into one final act from a demon who knows how to speak best through action. And it may not have been what either of them wanted but I think it's what both of them needed. They need to allow themselves pain and imperfection if they ever want to really come together.
And it worked! If only for the briefest, barest moment, it worked. Aziraphale relaxed enough to put his arms around Crowley, to put his hands on his back, and they were together. The kiss may have failed and died but it lived on as a ghost on Aziraphale's lips. Printed there where he could still feel, even after Crowley was gone. It couldn't be explained away or misunderstood.
And, in the end, isn't that a bit romantic?
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I love Stefania but I have no interest in watching/listening that podcast. Any chance you’ll do a recap of the highlights?
Sure...I just finished watching so this is what I took from it:
Says that it’s starting to sink in that it’s the series finale but also feels like they’re on hiatus and that when they’re supposed to go back in July that’s when it will probably really sink in.
They were supposed to film this podcast episode while they were still filming the finale but it was too hectic with them filming overnights and such.
After long days of interacting with people all day long she needs time to just be alone and recharge/watches Friends to wind down.
Stefania eats a lot of sweets on set (chocolate donuts) and then they started talking about broccoli for like 5 minutes because Stefania said she loves to eat broccoli and kale and healthier things when she travels because she’s eating all the sweet stuff on set lol
She said she’s not a good cook and didn’t inherit a cooking gene and only does it out of necessity.
Talks about transitioning from dance to acting and says that one day she just felt she was done and she loved dance, it was a great relationship but she’s ready to move on.
She started dancing when she was six because there was this drawing competition in school and the winner got free dancing lessons for a year and she drew a ballerina and won. Did ballet first but was bored and picked it up years later and did more modern jazz type dance.
A good portion is then spent of Gaby and Stefania speaking in italian because Gaby lived there for a while. They start to talk about an Italian tv show.
Jaina and Gaby pointed out that Stefania looks so comfortable speaking in Italian and so herself but Stefania said when she’s acting in Italian, she’s not comfortable and prefers to act speaking English because she has an accent with every language she speaks and she has a different inflection now when speaking Italian while acting.
North Africa is somewhere she wants to check off on her bucket list.
She prefers the grainy look to film/tv/photo and doesn’t like HD. Film makes it more poetic, dreamy, special.
Her digital camera she carries around is from the 90’s so the quality isn’t as sharp as pictures are today.
She talked about her episode that she directed and a lot of her ideas went hand in hand with the script like the scene where everybody was angry and so they then slammed the doors and create the rhythm to create more drama.
She talked about Zita Sempri and the meaning of ‘always a girlfriend, never a wife’ and how her mom taught her to always keep the freshness of when you’re first dating someone and to never give up your dreams/prioritize others before your own like women tend to do especially once getting into a marriage and that's something especially known for women to do in Sicily.
She says Jeff is super sweet with humans but loves to be the alpha with other dogs and gets aggressive and shows dominance when it comes to her stuff: food, treats, etc.
Biggest fears: losing loved ones, losing her health/getting injured. Then talks about how she booked Grey’s two days after she was in acting class crying about her accent thinking it was too limited and she wouldn’t get a juicy role. And the minute they got told Station 19 was cancelled, all the fears she had about her accent came back that she will never book a role again. (ABC count your days for this)
They talk about the difference in fashion/style in Italy compared to the US and Stefania says she has a different closet for clothes she wears in Italy and it’s much more structured/fancy as opposed to when she’s in LA wearing t-shirt/jeans.
They talked about how social media makes everything feel more aware and rigid and like there’s a filter and you have to be careful what you post not to upset anyone and constantly have to edit and you’re less free, authentic, less yourself.
Stuck on an island and you could have three things: pizza, Jeff, something to drink (she mentioned bringing a water fountain lol)
Something people don’t know about her: she’s shy/reserved. It takes a while for her to open up to someone but once she does she’s more outgoing. She feels like a burden when opening up to someone so she has to make sure it will be well received/feels comfortable doing so.
What she’ll miss the most from Station 19: the people - cast, crew, human connection
What are you excited for in this next chapter? Not to talk about IVF and excited to talk about more stuff that’s more authentically in line with more of what her taste is and has become throughout the years. It has been incredible to play Carina and talk about the baby storyline and the struggles of it but she’s excited to tackle other things that are more true to her. She doesn’t want to have kids and for the past 3 years she has played a character who is desperate to have kids and she said it was beautiful because it was fun to connect with this different version of her and great to act out but she’s excited to act out some things that she does care about.
She’s working on some kind of story as a director but didn’t want to say to much about it and jinx it.
She took a pair of Carina’s pants from set but said she should have taken Carina’s lab coat.
Most difficult scene to shoot - Andrew’s death. Emotionally tolling, a lot of crying, exhausting.
If she could be in any tv show airing right now what would it be? My Brilliant Friend (Italian show) and she would have loved to be in the movie 7 pounds
She tends to lean more towards drama but would love to do comedy things as well. They talk about how she can pretty much cry on cue and can just think about all the shitty things that have happened to her and it comes instantly. She does a lot of emotional scenes/has to cry a lot.
Espresso or English Tea? Espresso
Sicily Beaches or Hollywood Hills? Sicily beaches
Art museums or Theme parks on a day off? Art museums
Dinner at home or Dinner out? Out
Gelato in Milano or Fish and Chips in London? Gelato
Pizza or Pasta? Pizza on pasta
Tennis or PIckleball? Tennis
Travel to the past or future? The present
Saving lives in the ER or on the field with firefighters? ER
Station 19 or Grey’s Anatomy? no answer
She’s on Instagram and off Twitter for good, her therapist told her to. (And that’s literally all that was said about that and then it ended)
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I'M ALIVE (BARELY) !! Work is kicking my ass. Also, lots of things went wrong for me this morning, but they all worked out in the end ?? Like I forgot to set my alarm, had to bring my mom's phone to her job bc she forgot it, my bus ended up running late because the doors would get stuck at stops. But I woke up on time, caught the bus after taking the phone, and made it early to work because the bus forgot to take the detour? My luck is insane (thanks Mammon.)
ANYWAY, i can no longer contain my thoughts about Mammon x Solomon x Mc. I'm just imagining my mc and Solomon who are both very curious, and love messing around with potions at purgatory hall, and finding alternatives to rare ingredients. This has definitely gone wrong a bunch of times (most days without a potion incident: 4)
and I'm imagining Mammon tagging along bc he misses mc and is jealous that Sol is taking up their time, but denies all claims - "I'm assigned to protect ya, ain't I?" "From Solomon?" "W-Well, he's a shady sorcerer!"
He sits on the floor by mc's feet, and will fetch them things because he can't say no to them. But he spends so much time listening to them brainstorm, he starts learning and will chime in randomly. Mc and Sol who are stuck on what to add, Mammon drops something in there, and they're both horrified until they realize the potion is perfect now. He just has a little database in his mind of what to add to something, and rare ingredients that the two wish they could get their hands on.
Thinking about Mammon doing a favor for a witch and she tells him to pick anything in her collection since she's low on money. He was about to be angry when he saw an ingredient that they've both been complaining is rare and hard to find. He asks the witch for that and then brings it to the two. He acts all nonchalant about it, trying to brush it off. Mc tackles him, meanwhile Solomon is in awe and staring with a twinkle in his eye.
Now Mammon starts requesting trades with witches, for a lower portion of grimm. Gets ingredients he knows they dream about, because the way mc and sol will get all giddy after he presents them with his earnings makes his stomach flip (he will never admit this)
"This is missing something" Solomon
"Yeah but I can't figure out what" MC
"Have you tried *insert seemingly common ingredient that doesn't work for most things*" Mammon
"But no one uses that, it's why we're always stuck with it" MC
"Couldn't hurt to try. See, watch." Mammon.
"WAIT, MAMMON DON'T- ... IT WORKED!?" Mc/Sol
----
"MAMMON HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET THIS, IT ONLY BLOOMS ONCE EVERY 100 YEARS" mc
"Dunno, got it from a random witch. Said she didn't need it. *spent two hours haggling with said witch*"
"...am I in love?" Solomon, reevaluating life
"Eh? What are ya mumbling about? If you're gonna thank me, I want it loud and clear!"
my crack ship <3 they mean everything to me. I caved and hunted down the plushies of them on ebay too. ALSO I GOT TWO OF MY COMMISSIONS BACK AND I'M 😭 they're perfect !!! I'm so so happy with them. Literally the lock screen is beautiful bc it's me and mammon cuddling (HIS MUSCLES CC!! IM DYING) and it looks like it was taken by like asmo or something who walked in to wake us up.
i think I'm also a hopeless romantic, I'm just scared of confronting my feelings lol (you're right in that it is worth it, I just need to figure out how to be brave </3). I throw myself into romance books and fanfics. Vaguely related, thinking about coffee shop au with barista!Mammon and college student!Solomon.
OKAY SORRY IM DONE RAMBLING 😭 HAVE A GOOD DAYYYY
- ✨ anon
Wow that does sound like a crazy morning!! I'm glad it all worked out, though~ Mammon is totally watching out for you!
OKAY but all of that sounds exactly like Mammon! I mean, he's super smart, he just doesn't usually bother to apply himself to anything. So it totally makes sense that he'd just pick up things because he's spending time with MC and Solomon. And then of course he's gonna end up seeing rare ingredients and being like, okay yeah I'm taking that. That all sounds absolutely adorable~
I'm curious about whether or not Solomon and Mammon would make a pact in this situation? I mean, if it's both of them and your MC that are in the relationship, do you think they would? Do you think Solomon would move past his obsession with getting a pact with Lucifer and end up in one with Mammon instead?
I always felt like Solomon doesn't really get Mammon, you know? But that doesn't mean he can't learn. And oh man, Solomon is such a tease and Mammon is so not good at being teased lol. That idea is giving me so many entertaining images, I can't even handle it.
Anyway, I'm totally here for it! It sounds really cute~
I'm so glad you're happy with your comms!!! They sound amazing!
And don't worry, you'll figure it out. I don't know how old you are, but I suspect you have plenty of time! It's a balancing act, you know? It's important to be honest with yourself about your feelings without letting them control you. But it's easier to decide what to do about them if you know what they are. Anyway, not to get all philosophical over here lol. I think the key is to find someone you want to be brave for, you know?
AUGH I love coffee shop aus sooooooo much!!! I was very obsessed with the idea of barista!Mammon for a while, mostly because of a daily chat where he was working at a cafe and then got into a fight with customer. He's good at finances, so I think he could be pretty business minded if he wanted to be. So I was thinking about a situation where he owns his own cafe, but when the customers get rude with one of his fellow baristas, he gets into a fight with them lol. I hadn't really considered who that other barista was, but it could be MC.
Anyway, I could ramble about coffee shop aus all day because I love them aklsdlkfjdfjkl
I hope you have a lovely day/night, too!!
#starting to get on the SoloMams train over here#well I can ship any two characters#because I think everyone is compatible#obey me#obey me nightbringer#obey me mammon#obey me solomon#✨ anon#misc answers
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Why do you think avery and Jameson’s characters/Jameson’s story felt off? It feels off for me, too, but I can't put my finger on it.
Hoo boy, where to start? This feels like peeling wet paper from wet paper. Also, sorry this took so long to make. I was constantly putting it off because I felt like I kept not knowing how to continue this review at times so I really hope this doesn't disappoint.
Spoiler Warning: The Brothers Hawthorne Discussion
Plot-wise, first off, it felt like we spent a lot of time with the set up to get to the Game and usually JLB spends a very minimal amount on that before we jump into the riddles, puzzle-solving, clue finding portion of the story as shown in the last three books. Then when we get to the actual portion of the plot which is dedicated to the Game itself, the running around Vantage feels like it was all so quick and you don't even get to take it in because we're already at another part with a new clue that by the time you feel settled in, the Game is done and Jameson is the winner. So, I think the concern with the story on that front is the fact that she wanted us to have an element from the old books that we're comfortable with so we can continue experiencing that thrill we're used to, just from Jameson's perspective because this suits him to a T. And she's right. This is the Hawthorne brother we've come to associate with all these high risks, high stakes, riddles, puzzles, complex games, etc., etc. It's just her approach didn't feel right; she spent more time on one thing than the other, the set up vs the climax as a result of said set up were disproportionate and this would probably be as a result of the dual pov. We never had a dual pov before in the series so where one story feels completed, the other didn't. Had Jamie's story been one whole book on its own, she likely could have made everything in the plot more evened out, especially the part we're anticipating most: the Game.
Also, from what I can see, Grayson's plotline does serve as the typical storyline we see in TIG, THL, and TFG in terms of set up and execution of actions after the build up. But it also must have been thought out better because there was pressure from the fans to redeem Grayson after the events of the last book. To be fair, JLB may have also planned it out that way in the first place. It's just disappointing to read through a book with the one brother I wanted to see in his best element because he fit this script the most having his storyline cut off seemingly abruptly. I know it's easier for her to come up with stuff for Grayson because he's still underdeveloped but she should have taken more care of Jameson since he is already developed. It causes inconsistency and on her part, looks like lazy writing and that she didn't even want to write his story. Most complex story she's written, my ass. If she wanted to just write Grayson's story then she could have done that, it would be believable enough that she just wanted to leave Jameson untouched because of the work she put into him rather than taking back all the good stuff we've seen come out of him by the end of TFG.
Now, with Jameson's character development, I think that the problem was the dilemma he was facing with his mind being "ordinary" compared to that of his brothers. I don't think I minded that part that much but when I review how he acted in the original trilogy versus how he was in this one, this problem kind of abruptly seems to show up, even with the flashbacks where this was demonstrated to be a topic of interest. Maybe JLB should have created some kind of set up for his character having this problem in the first books like she did with his lack of father figures issue which clearly makes him sensitive and his desperate need to win. These were things that had an origin and were portrayed appropriately in the book with a somewhat satisfying conclusion. This one just felt like it was there and the issue was quite quickly resolved so it kind of just makes itself appear as something that could have been easily ignored. He also falls short on sounding like a human being because she has made his mentality and personality so one dimensional and basic that a robot has more complexity than him. We get it, he's hungry for more almost all the time! But that's not all there is to him. And as a Jameson girlie, I feel like she made it so much harder for us fans of him as a character and the chosen love interest for Avery to give reasons as to why we liked him. I mean, back in 2022 and throughout 2023, I don't know how many little analyses and rants I came across that projected the goodness of his character. Now what am I supposed to justify? I was hoping we'd get that deserved deep dive to see what else drove him besides the obvious and what did we get? Just an endless loop of what we already know and have seen.
On the topic of Avery and Jameson as a couple in this book, uh, I think that JLB could have done a better representation of it from Jamie's perspective than the way she did in TBH. They had some pretty great moments like their problem-solving sequences, the getting ready scene before the opera, the little stuff like their hand symbols to signal to each other, Avery comforting Jameson, and Jameson confiding in her the secret of what happened in Prague. However, I found the way that JLB described Jameson's thoughts towards Avery a little too out of character. I get it, there's nothing wrong with him being physically attracted to his own girlfriend, that's definitely part of it but it felt too lusty and not the way he seemed to view her from what we saw in the last three books. I mean, even Avery wasn't quite so lusty towards him. The flirtatious components weren't what I was hoping to see especially after his many swoon-worthy moments from THL and TFG. Honestly, regarding my opinion on this, there's a recent post by @elif-in-wonderland that summarizes my thoughts for me perfectly.
There, that concludes my current thoughts on the book regarding Jameson's side. If I do end up having more opinions to share, I will be sure to make a continuation to this in a follow up post. Thanks for the ask!
#jameson winchester hawthorne#jameson hawthorne#avery kylie grambs#avery grambs#averyjameson#the brothers hawthorne review#tbh spoilers#the inheritance games rant#the inheritance games#the hawthorne legacy#the final gambit#the brothers hawthorne#tig#thl#tfg#tbh#thank you for coming to my ted talk
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HIII OH MY GOD im sorry for sending another one but i was just in the bathroom cleaning up and an idea fucking struck me. (yeah, bright ideas always hit me while i shower)
im thoroughly convinced that zandik, at some point, genuinely believed that you didn't love him. it was probably a year into your relationship after hitting on him for too long in the akademiya.
then, zandik got his hands on a book about manipulation tactics and shit, and he read a portion about pretending to be nice and loving just to gain something from him.
and hence him kicking you out and screaming profanities at you, saying that you don't truly love him. yeah, i know, brash decision by zandik. his older self truly regrets it and doesn't know what he would do in his life if you weren't persistent enough to keep reaching out to him. but to younger zandik, it just made sense.
how could someone like you could ever love him? he knows that sometimes you think he's going a bit too far with his experiments, you call him crazy (in an adoring way ofc), you sometimes look at him in fear as well. you have to be pretending, it just can't be. he has spent all his life unloved, outcasted, hated and feared- he can't comprehend such a wonderful thing such as love would ever be something he'd truly experience, deserve.
zandik stood his ground with his decision, glaring at the wall as you knock on the door repeatedly, asking what was wrong. then when he hears you curse under your breath, sounding mad, his heart fucking breaks.
and it just sinks in that he did something incredibly stupid and probably hurt your feelings for acting out. he's just so not used to being loved, and even if a year has passed, he still can't wrap his head around it.
really, you only got mad from the other side of the door is because your groupmates saw you and began walking towards you after you escaped to hang out with zandik...
dw you make up eventually if you're determined enough to prove that you genuinely love him!! (i mean cmon, it's not that hard. just point out that you literally cook him, wrestle him from his desk and onto his bed to sleep, go on illegal expeditions with him and all you wanted from him was kisses, hugs and affirmations of his love for you)
IM LITERALLY COMBUSTING FROM THIS BECAUSE IT'S LITERALLY SO TRUE AND I LOVEEE THE WAY YOU DESCRIBED IT,, WHY HAVE U DONE THIS TO ME.
I'm thoroughly convinced that as well, and from his perspective it makes sense considering he went his whole life without receiving any kind of genuine love (which he grew not to care about anyway) and any kind of sweet words directed at him would usually have some kind of ulterior motive or to get on his good side... He's a very cynical person and even after a while the whole situation just baffles him. Not to mention sometimes Zandik himself has trouble understanding that he truly loves someone else and that this isn't just one big lie... it's hard for him to process it all.
Ugh you just know he'll be researching relationships and shit just so he can justify thinking this way and then he gets to a portion to be wary of your partner possibly being fake and manipulating you. And then he just goes haywire on you and you're just like "wtf are you even talking about" and Zandik's literally just going off on you without letting you get in a word. (I bet the clones cringe whenever they remember this moment too 💀 just bring up this moment in an argument and dramatically walk away and he'll feel a bit bad which is more than he should be capable of)
Zandik tries his best to ignore your heartbroken and confused expression - surely you must be faking it, he thinks as he slams the door in your face. This just must be one of your games again, and now that you've been called out you don't know what to do, he tries to convince himself. Your frantic knocks were just a scheme to play with whatever heart he had left. Because in no world, no universe, would you ever love someone like him. He knows he shouldn't be considered human anymore, he's a monster, and surely you see that too. The one who had been with him for ages, the closest one to him. Zandik doesn't understand - you have nothing to gain from being with him. It was 99% an act. Yes, 99%, because he was secretly clinging onto the 1% chance it was real.
And the 1% chance beat all odds when he heard how genuinely pissed and upset you were from behind the door, which was both a fortunate and unfortunate thing - the former because he knew you really loved him, the latter because even he realized that he fucked up big time. But Archons Zandik, out of all possible times, you had to do this when it was the time you were trying to avoid your annoying classmates 😔
On a more angsty note, you might start cursing back at him about all the reasons you love him and why you stay with him and just end it with the fact you're going to be staying somewhere else now, and it's up to him if he wants to see you again, because you ain't doing this again without some kind of apology. A few days later you come back with a whole fucking research paper about every little thing you've ever done for him and why you love him with a whole-ass explanation and just chuck it right at him and dip.
Thankfully present-day Dottore doesn't pull these kinds of stunts anymore and is much, much more secure and confident in the relationship (which is good cuz sometimes you wanted to slap him for being an idiot) Both of you are just glad you can look back on it and laugh (mostly you because Dottore hates thinking about the times he acted completely braindead)
#smooches talks#moots: kai <3#dottore love notes <3#felt i too have revelations in the shower#writing akademiya dottore is always a treat#THANK U MOOT I LOVE WHEN UR IN MY INBOX <333
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