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chahnniesroom · 1 year ago

Text

some loves

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: some loves are too hard to bear. years after being trainees together, chan still thinks of you all the time. he has no idea that a collaboration would lead him back to you.

word count: 6.9k

tags/warnings: reader is an independent singer/songwriter, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of past injuries, a little bit of jealousy, i am still in denial that chan doesn't do lives anymore, hongjoong from ateez is in this fic

read it on ao3 | masterlist

a/n: once again, sorry for the long time between posts. disclaimer that i do not know much about how the music/idol industry works and i did not really do much research. also i'm not an atiny so sorry if my portrayal of hongjoong is not realistic at all. also also i did a lot of the writing on a new tablet doing handwriting with a stylus to text so please forgive any typos or weird formatting! i didn't have a chance to edit much so i may have missed some things.

Chan’s in his studio when he gets the call. At first, he doesn’t even realise his phone is ringing. It’s 2am on a weekday and he’s been working away for a few hours so the rest of the world has just about faded into the background.

He’s both surprised and intrigued when he looks at the caller ID and sees Hongjoong’s name. Chan would consider Hongjoong to be a friend, but they’re not particularly close and he can’t think of a reason that would warrant this late night call.

“Hey hyung,” Hongjoong greets him briefly before getting straight to the point. “What’s your schedule like in the next few months?”

“It’s actually not too bad,” Chan replies after a moment of thought. “We’re just finalising all the music for the next album so it’ll be a bit of time before we get busy with recording and filming for the comeback. What’s up?”

“You don’t have the answer now and I don’t want you to feel any pressure at all, but would you be interested in doing a collab together?”

“A collab?” Chan repeats. “Like, ATEEZ and Stray Kids?”

“We could,” Hongjoong says reluctantly. “But actually, if you’re up for it then I was thinking more like just you and me. I have a couple tracks that we could work off of and I’ve roped in someone to help me with recording, engineering, and production.”

“Who?” Chan asks, interest piqued.

“Not sure if you’ve heard of them, they go by the name HALLA.”

Chan recognises the name instantly. When Chan had first stumbled upon HALLA one late night scrolling and listening to different independent artists, they seemed relatively unknown. However, a little research revealed that they had KOMCA credits on a number of songs for idol groups, some of which had become widely popular. Their personal work was a variety of genres and a majority of the tracks didn’t have vocals, but the ones that did had clever or thoughtful lyrics. There were a couple of different voices featured in the original songs, both of which were smooth and melodic. HALLA has a style that Chan thinks would complement Stray Kids and he’s considered reaching out to them a few times, but was always held back by something.

There was little about HALLA posted on the internet and while Chan definitely appreciates their privacy, he’s curious to meet the person behind all the songs that he enjoyed. There’s just something familiar about all their music that he can’t quite place, something that he wants more of.

“I’m in,” Chan agrees.

“You can take some time to think about it, talk to JYPE to see what their thoughts are too.”

“No need, I’m interested and I know I can convince management to support this.”

“Well that was easy,” Hongjoong says and Chan can basically hear him grinning through the phone. “And for my own pride, I’m going to pretend that you said yes the second I suggested the collab instead of when I mentioned HALLA-ssi.” Chan instantly flushes and is glad that Hongjoong can’t see him over the phone.

“It wasn’t-” Chan begins to protest.

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong interrupts. “I’m also pretty thrilled to get to work with them, so I understand. Didn’t realise you were familiar with their work, but I guess a hidden gem like them can’t stay hidden for long. I’ll send some files over to you and we can organise a time to work.”

—

Chan finds it easy to work with Hongjoong and they make quick progress on the song, writing lyrics and creating a guide within a couple of weeks. Before he knows it, they’ve scheduled a time for Chan to visit KQ Entertainment to record vocals. Hongjoong knows that Chan is keen to be involved in the production and arrangement of the song too, so they also have a couple sessions booked for that, although Hongjoong teases him relentlessly about just wanting to work with HALLA. The worst part is that Chan can’t even deny it.

Hongjoong meets him at the entrance of KQ Entertainment and quickly takes him through security.

“HALLA-ssi is already in the studio,” Hongjoong explains as they wait for the elevator to arrive. “I was getting input on a track that’s been killing me for the past few days.”

“Did they help?” Chan asks, a little surprised that HALLA is involved in more than just this collaboration. He still hasn't had a chance to connect with them other than quick introductions through text a couple of days ago and he's just as excited to meet them as initially.

“Yeah!” Hongjoong grins, eyes curving into little crescents. “HALLA-ssi is amazing. She only had listen to it a couple times before she came up with suggestions on a few different ways to fix the part that I hated. I left her to finish cleaning the song up and then it’s basically ready for review.”

“How did you start working with HALLA-ssi? I’ve been meaning to try to connect with her.”

“It was actually a friend that suggested working with her. For someone who isn’t signed with a label- which I don’t know how nobody has signed her yet- she’s surprisingly well connected within the industry. I’m sure that KQ would be more than happy to have her work with us, but when I hinted at that, she didn’t seem interested.”

“Really?” Although KQ Entertainment is still one of the smaller companies in the industry, most unsigned artists would still jump at the chance to work there since they have a good reputation, especially due to ATEEZ’s popularity.

“I haven’t poked too much, it’s not really my business. I thought I might as well try. I just know that she’s amazing at her job and I’m grateful that I get to work with her at all.”

They turn the corner to the hallway that leads to the recording studio. The door is ajar and Hongjoong opens it, waving his arm forward to allow Chan to walk through first, before following closely behind.

HALLA’s sitting at the desk and the second Chan sees her face, he stops in his tracks.

“Y/n,” Chan breathes.

You look up, startled, and your eyes connect for a split second before Hongjoong crashes into Chan, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

“Hyung,” Hongjoong complains, unaware of Chan’s inner turmoil. “Why’d you stop?”

Chan lets out an apologetic wheeze from where he’s now trapped under Hongjoong, before resting his forehead against the ground. He needs a second to recover.

It feels like a punch to the gut to see you in front of the recording studio’s computer, fiddling with a track. You look different, but somehow it feels like Chan has been transported right back to his trainee days and all that time that the two of you had spent side by side.

It has been years since Chan last saw you. He had found out that you had left JYPE just months after Stray Kids officially debuted, but all efforts to track you down had been futile. You had changed your number and broken contact with all the other trainees. He had asked around a little bit, but everyone he talked to had been unusually cagey about the subject.

Suddenly, everything makes more sense, especially the little that he knows about HALLA.

As trainees, Chan’s favourite moments had been when you had regaled him with stories of growing up on Jeju Island. The two of you had connected early on through your shared love of the ocean. You had promised him that if he ever went to visit in his free time, you would take him on the best trails up to the Hallasan, the shield volcano, and show him incredible views from the highest point on the island. Occasionally, your parents would send you care packages and the two of you would open them hidden away in one of the vocal practice rooms, the sweet citrus of hallabong exploding in your mouths.

You had always spoken about Jeju Island so fondly, of course you would find a way to indirectly pay homage through the stage name that you chose.

“Oppa,” your voice rings out in the silence of the room. Now, Chan knows why the female voice on some of HALLA’s songs had always seemed hauntingly familiar. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” both Chan and Hongjoong say at the same time, then make eye contact with identical confused expressions.

“Hongjoong-ssi, you didn’t mention that the person you wanted to feature on the track was Channie-oppa,” you say, making it clear who you were addressing your concern to earlier.

“It was supposed to be a surprise!” Hongjoong gets up slowly, dusting off his clothes and scratching at the back of his head, still looking bewildered. “I had no idea that you two knew each other, hyung mentioned he hadn’t worked with you before.”

Chan stays quiet, not sure how much you’re willing to share. Hongjoong must not know about your time with JYPE if he can’t piece together how the two of you could have met.

“Oh- I used to- We trained together back in the day,” you explain sheepishly. “I was with JYPE for a little while and all the trainees knew who Channie-oppa was. That was a long time ago though, I didn’t use the name HALLA back then.”

The five years that you trained at JYPE are more than a little while, but Chan forces himself to bite his tongue at your deliberate understatement. You don’t elaborate further and while it’s obvious that Hongjoong isn’t satisfied with your answer, he’s willing to drop the topic for now. You look relieved when he switches the subject to the song.

The three of you finish recording quickly. It shouldn’t be a surprise, the work so far with Hongjoong has been smooth so adding you to the mix has just made things easier, but Chan knows he’s a perfectionist and it often takes him an almost embarrassing number of takes before he’s satisfied. The only delay comes when Hongjoong decides he wants you to sing some of the backing vocals and resorts to actually getting on his knees and begging. Chan doesn’t go so far, but he can’t help but agree that your voice blends with the song perfectly. Of course, he also just wants to hear you sing.

You relent when Chan quietly voices his agreement and it really shouldn't make Chan feel as smug as it does.

It’s not even early enough for dinner when things are wrapped up. Chan is usually eager to finish a schedule early, but he’s reluctant to leave, taking his time packing up his belongings.

Finally, he doesn’t have a reason to stay any longer so he musters up the courage to ask.

“Do you guys want to go grab some coffee or something to eat?”

You and Hongjoong make eye contact before turning to look at Chan guiltily. His stomach churns for some reason.

“I’m sorry,” you wince. “I actually promised to help Hongjoong-ssi with an ATEEZ song and we need to go over the edits that I made before his meeting with the company later today.”

“Oh,” Chan replies, feeling a little relieved. “Right, no yeah I get it. Hongjoong actually mentioned that earlier, but I forgot. My bad.”

You offer an apologetic smile before turning to the computer, opening up a file.

“I’ll see you guys next time, then,” Chan says, starting to back out of the room.

“Of course! Thank you for your hard work and good job today!” you say brightly. Looking distracted, Hongjoong mumbles an agreement and waves goodbye. Unlike you, he’s not staring at the computer monitor though. Instead, his focus is solely on you. Even from his side profile, Chan can tell that he’s enamoured.

Honestly, Chan can’t really blame him, you look comfortable and confident, swallowed up in an oversized hoodie as you start explaining the alterations that you made to the track. Your voice is calm, but warm and you’re careful to start off by complimenting the work that Hongjoong had done previously.

Chan leaves, resolutely ignoring the twisted feeling that’s back with a vengeance and any thoughts of what the cause might be.

—

Chan can’t sleep. His thoughts are all about you, what you’ve been doing the past few years, what happened to you at JYPE that made you leave, and mostly trying to remember how and why your relationship with him slowly fell apart.

That’s the hardest part. In the darkest time of his life, when Chan had been discouraged and disheartened, you had joined JYPE with a brightness and enthusiasm that gave Chan the motivation to continue being a trainee. He had adored you. He still does.

In those last few months before the survival show had been filmed, Chan’s relationship with you had gone from being everything to nothing. It happened in the blink of an eye, and Chan had never understood what caused you to withdraw so quickly and thoroughly. The two of you had gone from spending almost all of your free time together to you avoiding him at the company, pretending not to hear when he called out your name or tried to get your attention.

The regret of letting you slip away has always eaten away at him, but now more than ever.

Of course, at the time it hadn’t felt so simple. The survival show was Chan’s first serious chance to debut, and not just that, but the weight of having eight other people’s careers depending on his leadership took a toll on all his other relationships. Your absence in his life still hurt, but Chan had lots of practice losing people. He had coped in the way that worked best in the past, throwing himself headlong into producing, training, anything to keep himself from wallowing in his feelings.

Chan doesn’t have any schedules for today, but he still heads to the company. He knows this isn’t the healthiest way to deal with things, but he doesn’t know anything else.

When he arrives, Chan just barely manages to catch a glimpse of a few familiar faces. He calls out before he can think better of it, jogging slightly to catch up. Sana, Momo, and Mina watch curiously as he approaches. He knows that Twice also aren’t in a busy period of the year, so he doesn’t feel guilty delaying them.

“Sorry to bother you all. Sana-noona, I was just wondering if we could chat?”

Sana makes brief eye contact with the rest of the girls before agreeing and waving them to go ahead of her. She follows behind Chan as he leads them into his studio, clearly interested in determining the reason behind this atypical meet up.

“What’s up, Channie?” she asks once the door is closed behind them.

Chan tries to think of the best way to start, not wanting to just outright ask, but not knowing how to subtly steer the conversation into the right direction. Finally, he abandons trying to be casual and just blurts out, “Do you remember Y/n?”

“Of course I do,” Sana says, sounding amused at the sudden mention of you. “You both had reputations for being veteran trainees. I mean, other than Jihyo.”

“I was always surprised that she never debuted,” Chan admits. “I just thought it would happen eventually and I was so shocked to find out that she had left. I didn’t- I don’t understand why she gave up on something she wanted so badly.”

“Give up?” Sana asks, sounding like she’s offended on your behalf. “Why would you say it like that?”

“What do you mean? It was like she was there one day and gone the next, I just assumed that she had enough and quit. Nobody seemed to know anything about it. I never found out why and it’s been kind of killing me.”

“You didn’t hear what happened?”

“What- something happened? To her?” Chan swallows hard, suddenly feeling unwell.

“It- I thought that you of all people would know-”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, but- you never talked to her about it? You knew her better than any of us.”

“Noona, I didn’t know that she was gone until months later. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it to me, I never reached out at first. When I finally did, her number had been changed. What was I supposed to do?”

“I- It’s better if you were to hear it from her. I don’t know the full story and you know how things can be distorted through gossip. And you especially must know how dangerous that can be.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You really have no clue? The two of you were inseparable…”

“Please,” Chan pleads.

“You know how it is in the industry, you were so close, of course there were rumours…”

It suddenly clicks.

“But we were just friends! And the dating ban-”

“Chan, you know nobody actually sticks to those, right?”

“But really, we were never-”

“I believe you,” Sana says, carefully. “But you know that to management that it doesn’t really matter whether or not anything was actually going on. To them it’s all about the optics. A perceived relationship is just as dangerous as an actual one.”

“Management…” Chan repeats, his mind racing. “They never mentioned anything to me though.”

“You never found it suspicious? You two are extremely close and out of the blue she suddenly stops talking to you, then right after the two of you stop hanging out, you’re chosen for the survival show? Someone must have talked to her at some point. Maybe not management, but for sure someone.”

“You think that’s why it took so long for me to debut?” Chan asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“It was a liability,” Sana explains. “To have a dating scandal so early on? Neither of your careers would survive. It’s painful and a terrible part of the industry but it’s true.”

“And.. Why she left, you know about that too?�� Chan pleads.

“I think I’ve said too much already. I know that it’s hard, but some things are really personal.” She pauses for a moment. “What brought this on, anyway? You haven’t mentioned Y/nnie in years.”

“I can’t say much, but I- I saw her today, got to talk to her, found out what she’s been up to.” Sana gasps. Chan continues. “It was so weird to see her after so long. In the back of my mind, I had always wondered, but…”

“I’m glad that you two got to reconnect,” Sana says gently. “The two of you cared about each other a lot, that much was obvious. Talk to her, I think at the very least you’ll be able to find peace about what happened.”

“Noona-” Chan reaches out and pulls Sana into a tight hug. “Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. I’m sorry that it took so long for you to find out.”

—

A few days later, Hongjoong schedules another session to work on the song. Leading up to it, Chan is both looking forward to it and nervous, not sure what to expect. Although he still really wants to know what happened to you all those years ago, he’s scared about what he might learn and any part he might have had in it.

After a sleepless night, he ends up arriving almost 15 minutes early. This time, Hongjoong isn’t waiting at the building’s entrance. Instead he had let him know a few days before that Chan could just sign himself in and had sent him the name and location of the studio that was booked. When Chan reaches it, he can make out conversation from inside.

“HALLA,” Hongjoong can be heard through the studio doors, which aren’t fully shut. His tone is petulant and much more casual than it was previously. Chan wonders how much time the two of you have spent together between then and now and he almost misses the next thing that Hongjoong says. “You never told me that you were a trainee before.”

That stops Chan in his tracks, interested in how you’ll respond.

“It was a long time ago.” Your voice is faint. You’re still nice, but Chan can tell that your voice is stiffer than usual. “It doesn’t really matter now.”

This time, Hongjoong doesn’t let it go.

“What happened?” he prods.

“Just drop it,” you warn him. “It’s the past, forget I told you in the first place. Nothing ever came of it anyway.”

“Y/n-” Hongjoong changes tactics, the nagging tone replaced with a quieter, more serious one. You sigh.

“It didn’t work out. Obviously. I’m just not idol material.”

“Oh come on, I don’t believe that for a second. Your producing is good enough that I know for sure you’ve been getting offers to work with more companies than just KQ. When you direct during recording, you can hit every note without any warm up or practice. And I’ve heard your original songs, you must have been considered for both the position of lead rapper and lead singer as a trainee because there’s no way that anybody would let your talent go to waste.” Hongjoong is breathing hard by the end of his rant and Chan can see that this is something that has been bothering him for a while.

“It’s okay, Hongjoong-oppa.” Your voice is gentle, like you’re trying to comfort him. “I’m happy with what I have right now. Really. I’m grateful for all the freedom I have. Getting to work on any project I want and experiment with my music without having to deal with the bureaucracy and politics of the industry? Having that independence is precious to me. I wanted to be an idol for a long long time. But even though that specific plan I had didn’t work out, it doesn’t mean I’m not happy with what I’m doing.”

Hongjoong stays quiet for a while.

“Do you think that if you had the opportunity to debut as an idol now, you would?” he finally asks.

“Oppa, it’s not possible. I can’t dance, I’m too old-” you protest.

“No no, just hypothetically. Like if someone walked into the room and handed you a contract and said that if you signed it in an hour then you’d be able to debut.”

“I- I don’t know.”

“What’s your gut feeling?”

“I think I left that dream behind, I don’t know if I want to go down that path again. I don’t think I have it in me.”

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong says after another pause. “I shouldn’t have questioned you so much, you shouldn’t have to justify your decisions to me.”

“No, it’s fine. It seems strange, right? For me to be an artist in Seoul and not want to get signed, it's only natural for you to be curious. But I learned a lot when I was a trainee and I learned even more after that and I can say with certainty that this is what I want.”

Chan takes that opportunity to knock on the studio door and push it open.

“Hey, hope I’m not interrupting,” he says, as if he wasn’t just eavesdropping on their conversation and purposely chose when to cut in. “Sorry, I’m a little bit late.”

“Hey, no problem man,” Hongjoong says. “We haven’t had a chance to do anything yet, so you’re right on time.”

“Good to see you,” you chime in. “I think this should be pretty quick so let’s get started!”

As you predicted, it doesn’t take long before a majority of the song is finished. Normally, Chan would be keen to stay involved until the very last detail is finalised, but he trusts you and at the end of this day, it’s Hongjoong’s song so he’s happy to give him the final say.

At the end of the session, Chan once again uses the opportunity to try to catch you alone. The two of you are side by side, packing your bags and Chan asks if you have any plans for the rest of the day. You confirm that you're available and Chan is about to suggest that the two of you take the time to catch up when Hongjoong interrupts.

“Oh, Y/n-ah,” he says. “I was actually hoping to get your input on something and I didn’t have a chance to ask you earlier. Can you please stick around for a bit? Sorry, hyung.”

Hongjoong sounds so sincere that Chan almost doesn’t feel annoyed that he’s stealing all of your time and attention. Almost, because at the end of the day, Chan’s only human. Even though he knows he has no right to feel possessive over you, he can’t stop the petty jealousy that bubbles up inside of him. At this point, there’s no denying the emotion.

Just like the previous session, he leaves alone, heading directly to the studio. Hours later, his breath catches when he checks his phone and sees that you’ve texted him.

[Received - 8:04pm]

Channie-oppa~

[Received - 8:04pm]

This is Y/nnie

[Received - 8:05pm]

Sorry about earlier, I have a contract with KQ Entertainment and work comes first :/

[Received - 8:09pm]

But I’m free now! You still interested in catching up?

Chan stares at the messages until it feels like they’re burned into his retinas. Logically, he knew that you had his number, the two of you were in a group chat that Hongjoong had set up, but this was your first time messaging him privately. The first time you had reached out in years. A precious opportunity that he never thought that he would have. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

He’s also shocked to see you texting so casually. Although the two of you have been comfortable in person, he wasn’t sure that it would translate to one-on-one conversation.

[Sent - 8:10pm]

Hey Y/n!

[Sent - 8:11pm]

No worries at all, I understand. I’m the same way too

[Sent - 8:13pm]

I still wanna meet up… but I’m all the way back in Gangdong-gu 😅 It’d be a bit of a trek for you if you're still at KQ

[Received - 8:13pm]

Gangdong-gu?

[Received - 8:14pm]

Ohh JYPE

[Received - 8:14pm]

My bad, forgot that you guys moved

[Sent - 8:15pm]

Yeahhh

[Sent - 8:15pm]

Headed straight back to the company after we were done, sorry

[Received - 8:18pm]

Well… If you’re willing to wait then I don’t mind. KQ is close to a metro station anyway

[Sent - 8:18pm]

Wait, really?

[Sent - 8:18pm]

No no no, don’t take the subway

[Sent - 8:18pm]

I’ll send a driver. They’re gonna pick you up in 20 min

[Received - 8:19pm]

Wowow

[Received - 8:19pm]

Private driver?

[Received - 8:20pm]

You’re a real superstar now haha

[Sent - 8:21pm]

alsfjshkafs noooooooo

[Sent - 8:21pm]

It’s just faster

[Sent - 8:21pm]

and safer

[Received - 8:22pm]

I’m not complaining

[Received - 8:22pm]

but I’m going to get your autograph when I see you

[Received - 8:23pm]

If I sell it then I can probably afford my own private driver 🤭

[Sent - 8:24pm]

Knew it

[Sent - 8:25pm]

You’re just using me for my fame

[Received - 8:26pm]

Ah you got me this time

[Received - 8:26pm]

*Your fame, your talent, and your good looks

[Received - 8:27pm]

Even tho you were the one that said you wanted to meet up

[Received - 8:27pm]

Hmmm maybe you’re the one using me?

Chan listens to his phone as it continues to vibrate from where it’s lodged in between two of the couch cushions after he threw it across to the opposite side of the room. His face is buried in his hands and flaming red. He feels both giddy and terribly embarrassed.

Chan’s no stranger to flirting, he’s experienced his fair share being on either side through interactions with the members and with Stay, but he forgot how flustered he was being on the receiving end of your teasing. The part he never understood is that your playful tone always gave way to sincerity. Even when the two of you would joke around, he could always tell that you meant every comment that you made about Chan being talented or attractive and that flattered him almost as much as it baffled him.

[Received - 8:32pm]

?? Speechless that I caught on?

[Received - 8:36pm]

I think your driver has arrived… Otherwise I’m being kidnapped

[Received - 8:40pm]

Don’t think I would survive a horror film… I got into the car with no questions asked

[Received - 8:42pm]

It was nice knowing you I guess

When he realises how much time has passed, Chan grabs his phone and runs down to the back entrance of the company. Luckily you haven’t arrived yet and he takes the time to reply to your messages.

[Sent - 8:53pm]

Sorry, lost track of time

[Sent - 8:53pm]

They’ll drop you off at the back door, I’ll meet you there so you don’t have to get signed in or anything

[Received - 8:54pm]

Don’t think you’re getting away with ignoring my other texts

[Received - 8:55pm]

But thanks

[Received - 8:55pm]

Is this back door, the famous one that only allows in authorised people?

[Received - 8:55pm]

I’m honoured

Chan rolls his eyes at your cheesy reference and is in the middle of typing up a response when he sees the car pull up. You step out cautiously, then brighten when you see where Chan’s propping up the door.

“Hey,” Chan greets you. “Glad that you made it safely.”

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, looking around curiously as Chan leads you to an elevator that takes you to the rest of the building. “So this is the new and improved JYP Entertainment. I’d say that it looks the same as before, but I never got the chance to come in.”

“Yeah,” Chan says, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck as he walks. “I mean it’s pretty nice, but at the end of the day a practice room is a practice room and that’s where we spend most of our time.”

“Hmm I think we might have to agree to disagree on that one. You have your own studio don’t you?”

“Ah, kind of. It’s technically a shared one, but practically I’m the only one that uses it unless we’re out of the country for a long time,” Chan confirms.

“Seems a lot better than what we used to have! Do you remember when we used to cram ourselves into that tiny room that barely even fit two chairs and a table?”

“I almost forgot about that, it was so terrible! In the summer it would get so hot that we’d keep the door open-”

“And then someone would come yell at us because we’d be playing music too loud-”

“I remember begging management to install a portable air conditioner on multiple occasions, but they always refused.”

“Of course! Even if they weren’t so stingy, there weren’t any windows leading outside in there, how could they install it?”

“Is that why? I always thought they just wanted us to suffer.”

“That too,” you giggle for a moment, before your smile fades. “But they weren’t totally unreasonable. Management has a different perspective than us, sometimes they know better than us because of their understanding of the industry. They can see things that we don’t.”

It’s clear that you’re no longer talking about air conditioning anymore. A lump seems to have formed in Chan’s throat when he recalls his conversation with Sana. Luckily, the two of you have just arrived and Chan forces himself to smile.

“We’re here,” he says, opening the door and motioning for you to enter ahead of him. “Welcome to Channie’s Room!”

“It’s cute!” you say as you step in. “Very… neat. It’s actually more spacious than it looks.”

“Oh,” Chan says, faltering in his steps for a second. “You- you’ve seen my studio?”

“In case you didn’t realise, you go live every week from said studio. I think at this point everyone in the K-pop industry and every K-pop fan has seen it,” you tease.

“Right, yeah. I didn’t- I wasn’t sure how much you kept up with that kind of stuff,” Chan stammers.

“K-pop or do you mean specifically Stray Kids?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

“Either I guess," Chan shrugs.

"I will admit that it took me a while to get back into it," you say slowly. "I wasn't... in the best mindset after I left." Chan stays quiet, sensing that you're not quite finished. "I know that I disappeared and I am sorry for not reaching out. I wanted to, but I also didn't know how. I know that I hurt you. That it was cruel to avoid you, not reply to your messages, ignore your calls. I had my reasons why, but it doesn't excuse the pain that I caused, and I'm sorry for that too."

“I think,” Chan swallows hard. “I think that the most difficult part was that for the longest time, I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what I did wrong. I asked Sana about it finally, after I saw you again. And I just felt so stupid to realise that it was obvious to everyone except me."

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “I wanted to tell you, of course I wanted to. But I also knew you. If I had told you that us being together was preventing your debut-”

“I wouldn’t have cared,” Chan finishes your sentence for you, starting to understand. “I would have done anything to keep you by my side.”

"Even if it meant throwing away your career," you say softly. "I couldn't let you do that to yourself. You worked so hard, how could I live with being the reason that you were stuck in the training rooms? You belong on stage, making music.”

"The part that I still don’t get though is why you left? You should have been able to debut as well, I know it."

“Ah,” you say wistfully. You look around and grab onto the pillow that’s on the couch beside you, fidgeting with it as you figure out what to say next. “You know, I actually was supposed to debut.”

“What? How come I never heard about it?” Chan feels a pang in his chest. All these years ago, the two of you had promised that the other would be the first person that they would tell if they ever found out that they had the chance to debut. It seemed that neither of them had kept their promise.

“It was supposed to be a secret project. JYP wanted to see how successful a surprise debut announcement would be. You should have seen the NDAs that they made us sign.” You shake your head, letting out a huff of air. “It turned out to be a good decision because it meant they could cancel it without anyone knowing that we existed in the first place.”

"Who was in the group?" Chan asks.

"There were five of us. I think you know all of them, Sumin, Ryujin, Sojin, and Hyowon," you list. You're right, Chan is either familiar with or has heard of all the girls that you mention. It doesn't make sense though, the group was filled with talented individuals and Chan can't think of any reason strong enough to lead to disbandment. Even more baffling is that of the five of you, only Ryujin ended up staying at the company long enough to join the lineup for another group.

"And they just cancelled it out of nowhere?"

“No... It was- I know that for any idol, preparing for debut is tough, but I think that in some ways, it’s especially brutal for the girl groups," you say instead. Chan doesn't question you further, knowing that you must have a point that you're trying to make.

“How so?” Chan has an idea, he’s seen what the female trainees went through, the differences in how they were evaluated and criticised. But he wants to hear it from you, wants to understand what you’ve been through.

“The visual aspect feels like it’s more heavily emphasised than our talent or skills. We were measured for our music video outfits the second they finalised the concept. It was really early on, but at the time I thought it was so exciting and fun that I didn’t question it. I think that all of us were so thrilled by the thought of debuting that we didn't think anything of it. We did our final fittings for it a few weeks before filming and they had made them all a size too small, everything was just a little bit too tight. They didn’t outright say it, but it was implied that they weren’t going to alter them. It was a choice to lose weight or our chance to debut was gone. We were devastated and angry and eventually just resigned. If that's what it took then I would do it. We dieted like crazy for the time leading up to filming,” you laugh, but it's in disbelief, the sound is hollow.

Paired with what you’re saying, it makes Chan want to burn the whole world down. He doesn't say anything, not sure if he can even open his mouth without letting his rage escape, something that you don't deserve.

“We were practising, like always," you continue. "There was a tricky step that needed to be fixed by the next day when we’d be recording, a flip that we hadn't quite mastered. I was the smallest one on the team, so I was the one being flipped. It must have been like 3 or 4 in the morning, we were all tired, hungry, and nervous about filming. Honestly, I don't quite remember what happened, it was all a blur. There was just this feeling that something went wrong and then pain."

You roll up the pants on your left leg and show off the skin there. Chan has to hold back a gasp at the sight. Even though it’s long healed, the scarring is extensive and obvious. Chan can't imagine how much it must have hurt.

“I broke my ankle in two places and sprained my wrist. I couldn't believe it, five years of my life just gone in an instant. It took months before I could walk and even longer before I could dance again. Even now, I can't dance anywhere close to the way that I used to," you say with a watery smile. “Sojinnie had a concussion from the fall and Suminnie dislocated her shoulder, I must have knocked into them or fallen onto them or something. What could we do? Three out of the five of us were out of commission, there was no time and no budget for a group that hadn’t even debuted to find replacements or re-record and re-film everything. I woke up after surgery and they told me that they were sorry, but my contract with the company was over. That someone had helped me pack up all my things in the dorm. I went back to Jeju-do as soon as I was released from the hospital.”

"I- I'm sorry that I didn't know," Chan says, clearing his throat roughly when his voice breaks partway through the sentence. " I wish that I could have been there, to help or comfort you. I should have-"

"Oppa," you respond gently. "It's okay. I didn't tell anybody what happened and the company also kept things quiet. I'm glad you didn't find out at the time. You had other, more important things to focus on, I didn't want to distract you from that."

"You're not a distraction," Chan says incredulously. "You're important to me, I would have dropped everything to be with you in such a difficult time."

"And that's exactly why I couldn't tell you. You've always been too good to me, Channie-oppa," you sniffle. "Look at you now! I'm so always proud when I think of how far you've come."

Chan lifts a trembling hand and carefully cups your face, using his thumb to wipe away a tear that has started making its way down your cheek. He hears your breathing hitch, but you don't object to his touch. If anything, you melt into it.

Chan takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you, bringing you close. The gesture breaks the dam of tears that you must have been holding back. Chan rocks the two of you back and forth gently, just letting you cry and trying to surreptitiously wipe away his own tears. It takes a few minutes before you calm, taking huge shuddering breaths that break Chan's heart almost as much as your sobs had.

"I'm sorry," you say with a voice thick with emotion.

"Hey, no," Chan reassures you. "There's no need to apologise. Are you feeling better now?"

You nod slowly, head still pressed against Chan's chest.

"I think- I think I just missed you. I always thought it would get easier, not having you in my life, but it never did."

At your words, Chan can't help his arms from tightening, squeezing you close.

"I finally found you again," he says. "And this time, I promise that I won't ever let you go."

read it on ao3 | masterlist

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pinkmoontaco · 8 months ago

Text

It all started with a song || Lee Jihoon

Pairing: Producer-Idol Jihoon x Producer-Solo Idol Reader Genre: Fluff, Idol romance Summary: Jihoon, the reserved genius of SEVENTEEN, unexpectedly finds himself drawn to Y/N, a rising junior idol from HYBE, after collaborating on a duet. What starts as a professional partnership blossom into a heartfelt romance, captured in their respective songs Author's note: This is my first time writing a story, and I truly appreciate you giving it a chance. Please forgive me if there are any mistakes—I’m still learning and growing as a writer. Thank you so much for taking the time to read and support my work. It means the world to me, and I hope you enjoy the journey I’ve created. If you have any requests for any member or any other groups, feel free to do so

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

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

Jihoon nodded and showed him the demo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jihoon, meet Y/N,” Bumzu introduced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always,” she said confidently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jihoon frowned. “What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N’s here! OMG!”

“She and Jihoon look so good together!”

“The duet is my favorite song right now!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The chat exploded with reactions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The buzz didn’t go unnoticed by SEVENTEEN.

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

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

“They’re perfect together!”

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

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

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

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

“Not you too,” Jihoon groaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But how?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jihoon…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N: Can’t wait to see you tonight ❤️

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The room erupted into chaos.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who knows?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lines like:

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

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

Fans flooded social media with theories.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The members all groaned in mock frustration.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I KNEW IT!”

“This is the best plot twist ever!”

“Our musical power couple!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The members gasped in mock horror.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jihoon smiled, typing back:

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

Y/N: Always. And so am I.

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

Even if they never let him live it down.

364 notes · View notes

axeeglitter · 11 months ago

Text

Back from the Vault: LifeX

Nathan Brown sat hunched over his desk, the glow of his laptop screen illuminating his tired eyes. His San Francisco apartment was a mess: clothes strewn across the floor, empty takeout containers stacked on the kitchen counter, and a half-empty coffee mug perched precariously on the edge of his desk. Nathan's bed was unmade, a tangled heap of blankets and pillows. The room smelled faintly of stale air and sweat, the result of a broken air conditioning unit and a lack of motivation to clean.

Nathan was staring at his laptop screen, scrolling through yet another round of job listings. His bank account was dangerously low, and the anxiety of unpaid bills was gnawing at him. He was 26 years old, recently graduated with a degree in communications, and he was struggling to find any kind of work. His YouTube channel, where he reviewed video games and shared walkthroughs, was his only source of income, but the revenue it brought in was barely enough to buy groceries, let alone pay rent or bills.

Nathan was average in build, with a light tan from his Latino heritage, and short, dark hair that he usually kept neat. His face was lightly stubbled, a sign of his growing indifference to grooming as stress took over. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle into his bones. He was on the brink of giving up when a notification popped up on his screen, breaking his focus.

"Subject: Exciting Opportunity for Collaboration!"

Nathan hesitated, then clicked on the email. It was from a company called LifeX. He didn’t recognize the name, but curiosity got the better of him.

“Dear Nathan,

We’ve come across your YouTube channel and believe we could work well together. LifeX is launching a groundbreaking new game, and we are looking for individuals to help us with beta testing and promotion. Your content aligns perfectly with our vision, and we think this could be a great collaboration. If you accept, you’ll also be able to help us optimize the AI of our games by creating your own NPC character, it’ll be later implemented in the game when it’ll be released. Of course, we offer financial compensation for your work.

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Best regards, The LifeX Team”

Nathan’s first instinct was skepticism. It sounded too good to be true, and he’d heard horror stories of scams and phishing attempts. But the desperation for money overrode his better judgment. He quickly searched for LifeX online, finding only a sparse website filled with vague marketing speak about “immersive experiences” and “cutting-edge technology.” There were no reviews, no user testimonials, nothing solid. This should have been a red flag, but Nathan was too desperate to care. He needed this. He needed a break.

Nathan decided to respond. He typed out a quick reply expressing his interest. Almost immediately, another email arrived, containing a download link, setup instructions, and a NDA requesting his personal information: name, age, location, and other details. Nathan filled out the form, barely thinking about the potential consequences. He selected the longest trial period possible: one month, hoping it would give him enough content for his channel and enough time to determine if the collaboration was worthwhile.

As soon as he submitted the form, a melodic chime sounded from his laptop, followed by a smooth, professional voice:

“Thank you for signing up, Nathan. To begin your experience, you will first create the NPC character, and then you’ll be ready to start your experience in the environment you’ll choose. For the trial to run successfully, please ensure that your computer remains on for the entire duration of the test period: one month. Any interruption may result in data loss or corruption. Welcome to LifeX.”

Nathan frowned at the last part but shrugged it off. He figured it was just standard legalese, probably meant for immersion. The screen changed to a character creation window, displaying a basic human figure in a T-pose. Nathan leaned forward, curiosity piqued, and started customizing the avatar.

He named the avatar “Cody,” envisioning him as the polar opposite of himself. Cody would be everything Nathan wasn’t: confident, athletic, and effortlessly cool. He adjusted the height to 6'4", pushed the muscle sliders to the maximum, giving Cody bulging biceps, a broad chest, and thick, powerful legs holding a perfectly muscled ass. From the corner of his eyes, Nathan spotted a slider on the groin area. He laughed as he understood he could also determine how big he could adjust Cody’s penis and balls. Smiling, he selected the largest option possible for his dick and added a huge heavy pair of balls to go with it, watching it grow in proportion to the rest of his body. He added bright hazel eyes, bushy eyebrows, and messy dark brown hairs that would contrast perfectly to the pale sun kissed skin.

After the body customization, Nathan saw a new window open: Clothes and accessories. After thinking about it, he chose a pair of denim shorts that ended mid-thigh, showing off Cody’s muscular legs. Nathan opted for no T-shirt, exposing Cody’s ripped torso and added a ripped sleeve shirt opened on his muscled hair pecs. He then moved on to accessories and decided to put a loop earring on his right ear and a silver chain around his neck.

After the customization was done, it was asked for Nathan to enter some information about the NPC he just created to create a base behavior for him. After a while, Nathan decided to go for the stereotypical fratbro behavior to go with the appearance he just did. He started typing, adding details about Cody’s lifestyle. He entered notes in the behavior interface: “Cody is dumb as a brick. He loves gym, training and being barefoot, feeling the ground under his calloused feet.” He laughed as he added another line: “Cody never takes showers, loves the smell of his own musk, enjoys sniffing his hairy armpits after a workout and scratching his big dick every couple of minutes after what he smells them and always smile enjoying his own musk.” Nathan chuckled, amused at the thought of creating such a ridiculous character. It was so far removed from his real life that it seemed like a fun NPC to talk and interact with. Just a dumb easy-going character that is always down for a fuck and a drink after a gym session barefoot in the woods.

Satisfied with his creation, he confirmed the settings. The game prompted him to select a location, and he chose the Secluded Forest Realm, envisioning Cody as a carefree physical trainer just out of college living in a cabin in the wilderness.

The screen went black for a moment, and the professional voice returned: “Now that your character is complete, it’s time to play! Please keep your computer running at all times to maintain synchronization. Any interruption may lead to data corruption. Enjoy your month-long experience, Nathan, and welcome to LifeX.” Nathan was really getting excited now. He conder what kind of character he would create for himself when he saw a flash of light on the screen. It looked like some kind of swirling mesh, almost like a blackhole. For a moment Nathan thought it was kind of a cool effect, but everything changed when he went to grab his half drink cup of coffee sitting next to him only to realize his right hand was tingling and tiny particles were escaping his nails, flying straight to his screen.

A sudden wave of fatigue hit Nathan, and the lights in his apartment flickered briefly. A sense of unease washed over him, making the hairs on his arms stand up. Before he could react, the tingling sensation spread from his fingertips up through his arms. He stared in disbelief as his fingers began to dissolve into streams of glowing white code, spreading quickly across his body. He tried to scream, but his voice caught in his throat. His vision blurred as the Life X logo was pulsing in bright light in the center of the screen with a loading bar under it going up further and further. The last thing he saw was the 100% before everything went black.

Nathan found himself suspended in a void. He was floating, naked, surrounded by darkness. Panic set in, his heart racing as he tried to move, but his body was frozen in a T-pose. The sensation was bizarre, as if he were trapped in a dream. He wanted to call out, but his voice was muffled, like shouting underwater. The smooth, professional voice returned, echoing through the void:

“Welcome to your new life, Nathan. Don’t panic; this process is normal and painless. In a few moments, you will begin your ideal life in the Secluded Forest Realm. Relax and feel calm. Avatar synchronization will begin in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…”

“What the fuck, where am I? What is going on? Why can’t I move?! HELP!!” thought Nathan as he tried to scream even though his face remained frozen.

Nathan’s body suddenly stiffened. A pressure built inside him, starting at his core and spreading outward. His bones stretched and cracked, lengthening to match Cody’s new height. His arms and legs grew longer, muscles bulging and expanding to fill out his new form. Nathan could feel his muscles tearing and healing at an accelerated rate, becoming stronger and more defined with each passing second.

His skin began to tighten, smoothing out imperfections and leaving with a perfectly smooth skin all around his muscled body. Nathan would be screaming if his voice mas not muted. Everything was burning and it was like feeling his DNA being rewritten while still being conscious. As he felt tears rising up his eyes, a new sensation invaded his newly modified skin. In his pits, legs and between his pecs, he felt like thousands of needles were piercing holes. The sensation was only multiplied as he started to feel hair sprouting from the holes. They were dark brown and thick but worst, the sensation of piercing needles started to appear around his groin too. Still wondering what was happening to him, Nathan tried to connect the elements he could find and that when he realized. The secluded forest, the muscles, the hair; that was Cody’s information, which means… Just enough time to understand what was happening to him when the hair started to sprout in abondance around his dick and nuts and climbing up his sculpted abs in a thin happy trail. After the hair, the modifications started to appear on his face. His jawline becoming sharper and more angular, his cheekbones more pronounced. His lips filled out, becoming more defined, while his eyebrows grew thicker, framing his eyes. His vision sharpened, colors becoming brighter and more vivid. His brown eyes shifted to a bright hazel as he lost vision for a moment. Everything was happening all at once and still, Nathan felt like it was an eternity of pain.

Nathan’s hair thickened, turning into soft, dark strands that fell casually over his forehead. His ears reshaped slightly to match his new head structure. A sensation of warmth spread through his throat as his vocal cords tightened, his voice box reshaping. When he tried to speak, his voice was deeper, richer, and carried a slight accent, a relaxed, Western drawl.

Nathan felt a growing warmth in his groin and realized what was about to happen now. All of a sudden, he regrated giving Cody such a big dick and heavy nuts. His cock thickened and lengthened, becoming larger than Nathan had ever been. He could feel the veins snaking down his growing dick as his cock head started to grow thicker and bigger. He could feel the cold air surrounding him as the head sneaked out of his foreskin. Wait, his foreskin? He didn’t remember going this far in details. His nuts fall down and grew thicker and full of potent cum as he could feel them going overload working on creating new manly sperm nonstop. Nathan could feel the horniness starting to rise as his body was assaulted by huge amount of testosterone. A drop of precum appeared at the tip of his cock as he could feel the weight of it between his legs, an odd sensation that both embarrassed and intrigued him. His buttocks tightened, becoming firm and lifted, while his thighs and calves thickened with muscle.

The transformation was almost complete when Nathan felt a sharp pain on his left pec. He wanted to scream, but his body was still frozen. The pain was like a branding iron pressing into his skin. “What is this?!” screamed Nathan in his new deep voice. A voice appeared from all around him “Dear user: NATHAN BROWN, as talked with you earlier on, you agreed to review and help us create the new generation of AI used for our NPCs. For that, your character, CODY, will have to be monitored. This assignation, XXIV, is the link to your identity and allow us to track your character. Please relax as your actions will be tracked and then saved. The program will make sure to copy all your movements, thoughts and everything that your character, CODY, might do to make sure to copy human mechanism that will be implemented in our NPCs later on. Thank you for your service.” When it subsided, a Roman numeral tattoo “XXIV” was there, bold and black, as if it had always been part of him. Nathan could feel the tattoo pulsing with energy, as if it was more than just ink on skin.

As his body finished transforming, clothes materialized around him. He now wore a sleeveless, open checkered flannel shirt and a short pair of denim shorts. Then he felt his ear being stabbed as the earing appeared in it and the coldness of the silver metal appeared around his neck. His feet then started to tingle as Nathan could feel the skin of his sole getting thicker and denser to better serve his barefoot lifestyle in the forest.

Nathan was terrified about what he just heard; his humanity was going to be used to program AI that will be implemented in NPCs. How is that even possible? Does that mean he was Cody now? And for a whole month? He didn’t agree to this. He had a life outside, friends, job to find, maybe some interviews if he was lucky. And about the bills? What was he going to do?

As all the questions were swirling in his head, Nathan fell the restriction holding his body in place as it was being modified lift. He could move on his own again, and the first thing he tried to do was take of his shirt or necklace. But every tug on the clothes or metal fell like he was trying to rip a part of him away. The clothes were part of him now. Nathan started to feel tears rise once again in his ears as all he could see around him were the infinite void of this artificial world. “Modification process terminated, Assimilation to the realm starting in 3,2,1…” Out of nowhere, the ground started to shake under Nathan’s barefoot. Then he saw light pierce through the ceiling. As a reflex, he put his hands to cover his bright hazel eyes but the light was way too bright. Nathan could see entire walls of darkness vanish and being obliterated by this bright light coming from above and fear started to raise in him. Nathan closed his eyes as all he could see was the infinite light engulfing the void and him with it. When he opened his eyes, Nathan was alone in a cabin in the woods, standing in front of a mirror. For the first time, he could see from the first person point of view what the body he created really looked like. Everything was looking so life like, even scent of pine and dirt were coming from the opened window next to him. He could smell the woods, feel the sun on his skin, the wood under his foots. Everything was lifelike. As Nathan sight started to look what his transformed body looked like, his head started to spin. Nathan grabbed it with his two manly hands but the pain was growing stronger. And in the blink of an eye, Nathan was no more. Cody stared at his reflection before smiling and flexing his biceps while smiling. His right hand lowered to get inside his shorts and scratch his hairy dick before putting his fingers under his nose to smell his musk. Cody laughed as he walked away, grabbing a snack on his way out to go exercise a bit in the nature.

“New NPC starting test phase. Remaining time 30 days, 23 hours 59 minutes 23 seconds. Behavior analysis… Acting following user NATHAN BROWN encoding. Tester assimilation… Assimilation stable, user will turn back when tests are over.”

______________________________________________________________ Hey guys! Here's another story back from the Vault, and it's my first ever published story: LifeX Hope you guys enjoy this new version of my story. Let me know what you think of it. As always, my asks are open and i'm always looking for new ideas and prompts from you. I try to answer them all and I love to read your ideas so please, don't be afraid to send anything you'd like me to write and I'll do my best to do it :) Take care of yourself! P.S. A follow up to this story should arrive soon ;)

#male transformation #my writing #mental change #male tf #reality change #tf #gay #personality change #straight to gay #digitized #LifeX #bro tf #frat bro #broification #dumber tf #dumber #smart to dumb #musk

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snowangie · 1 day ago

Text

✧ untranslated & untorched.

( a johnny storm x fem!oc series )

summary : two and a half years after galactus, earth is finally quiet. the fantastic four have settled into uneasy peace with science briefings, low‑stakes missions, the occasional interview reminding the world they once saved it. that calm gets complicated when ANSA assigns a new “liaison” to the baxter building: noel merriweather, a young linguistics consultant who can untangle twenty languages (and some not of this world). johnny storm has never had to work for anyone’s attention. noel isn’t playing hard to get but she’s just not the kind of girl who burns for someone on command. what starts as quiet collaboration turns into late nights over static‑filled radios, field missions that get too close, late night room visits, heat that simmers into tension, and tension that threatens to ignite. because some things can’t be translated. and some fires don’t catch right away.

series cw : fluffy fluff fluff & some angst if u squint maybe and smut in the other parts soon maybe HEHEHE

a.n. : guys idk if this hits so lmk if it does and if u wanna see more of noel and johnny ! i hv part 2 & 3 almost ready and i hv a smutty joseph quinn x reader one shot js posted too so if anyone is also in their joseph quinn era lets be friends :DDDDDDD

———————————————————————————

✧ part one of 4.

The elevator to the Baxter Building’s top floor hummed as it rose, a sleek silver box carrying Noel Merriweather and a single pale-blue suitcase.

Noel smoothed the silk scarf tied in her hair. It was more habit than vanity. She tucked a strand behind her ear. She looked calm, but her eyes darted to every button, every seam in the walls. Always noticing things.

The doors opened with a soft chime.

Sue Storm was already waiting, hands folded politely, smile bright and genuine.

“You must be Noel. I’m Susan. Sue.”

Noel’s smile bloomed instantly, soft and warm, the kind of smile that felt like being let in on a secret.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” she said, voice light but melodic, offering her hand. “I’m so grateful to be here. I hope I don’t get in anyone’s way.”

“Not at all,” Sue assured, charmed already.

And then, of course

Johnny Storm.

He leaned against the doorframe like the hallway was a magazine spread. That easy grin, that spark in his eyes; the Human Torch, unbothered and beautiful.

“So,” Johnny said, letting his gaze linger a beat too long, “ANSA sends their best for us, huh?”

Noel looked at him, a tiny laugh slipping out before she could stop it.

“I wouldn’t say that,” she said softly, a little blush brushing her cheeks. “I just… speak a lot of languages.”

Johnny grinned, feeling the first flicker of interest spark.

“Well, I only speak one, but it’s fluent in compliments.”

Sue sighed, rolling her eyes but smiling anyway.

“Johnny’s single,” she said, like she’d said it a thousand times before.

Noel blinked, then smiled again. Not mocking, not dismissive, just sweet.

“Then I’m sure someone wonderful is out there for him,” she said kindly, meaning it.

Noel’s assignment was simple on paper: ANSA wanted her to live at the Baxter Building, translating the alien transmissions that still trickled in years after the Galactus event.

Johnny’s new assignment was just as clear even though no one wrote it down: make her smile again.

When she set her suitcase by the guest room door, he was already there, leaning against the wall, curiosity burning brighter than his usual cocky act.

“So,” he asked, half‑serious, “do you ever take a break from saving the world with… adjectives and verbs?”

Noel laughed. It was light, melodic.

“Sometimes,” she said, looking at him for a moment longer this time. “Do you?”

That made him pause. He wasn’t used to being looked through like that.

“Guess I could start,” he said, softer this time.

She smiled again before disappearing into her room, leaving the faint scent of Chanel and a sense that Johnny Storm, for once, might have to earn it.

The guest wing smelled faintly like fresh paint and paper. Like someone or maybe a certain robot had clearly tried to make the room look “welcoming” in the last forty‑eight hours.

Noel tucked her suitcase neatly into the corner and ran her fingers over the desk. It was spotless. She placed her silk scarf over the chair like she was already claiming the space.

When she opened the door again, the hallway was empty, but she could hear the Baxter Building breathing: the hum of machinery, the distant clang of Ben Grimm’s heavy footsteps, the low, thoughtful murmur of Reed Richards somewhere deeper in the lab.

Sue walked her through the headquarters like she was welcoming an old friend.

“This is the main lab, but it’s Reed’s kingdom, so don’t feel pressured to… understand whatever he’s talking about,” Sue said with an amused sigh.

Reed looked up, distracted but polite. His eyes sharpened when Noel introduced herself.

“Merriweather. You’re the… linguist,” he said, already intrigued. “ANSA’s been forwarding you transmissions for months, hasn’t it?”

Noel nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Some of them don’t even seem like language. More like tone, intention. But yes. I’ve been cataloging.”

Reed blinked, clearly impressed but too Reed‑like to say it outright.

“We’ll set you up in Lab Two,” he said, then turned back to some machine like nothing just happened.

Sue caught Noel’s eye and smiled warmly.

“That was his version of a hug. Don’t take it personally.”

Noel laughed softly. It was the kind of laugh that made the air feel lighter.

⸻

the first meeting.

By the time she sat down at the lab table, the Fantastic Four had gathered like curious birds.

Ben Grimm leaned in the doorway, massive arms crossed.

“So, you’re the new brain they sent us, huh?”

Noel’s smile didn’t falter.

“I don’t know about ‘brain,’” she said sweetly, “but I’ll try to be useful.”

Ben chuckled, clearly liking her already.

“If you can make sense of Reed when he’s excited, you’re already more useful than half of us.”

Johnny hadn’t said much since earlier, which was unusual.

He hovered by the coffee machine, watching her unpack a neat stack of notebooks, a slim silver fountain pen, and a stack of coded transmissions stamped with ANSA’s seal.

“You don’t have a laptop?” Johnny asked, sounding half curious, half teasing.

Noel smiled at him without looking up.

“Languages… feel different on paper,” she said. “Sometimes you need to see the ink to hear the sound.”

Johnny blinked.

“…that’s kinda poetic,” he admitted, quieter than usual.

Noel looked up then, her almond eyes catching him, soft and unhurried.

“Sometimes things don’t need to be rushed,” she said gently.

And then she turned back to her work.

Johnny stayed by the coffee machine longer than necessary.

By the time the sun sank behind the skyline, the Baxter Building had quieted. The hum of the labs dimmed, Reed’s voice trailing off as he scribbled equations on a whiteboard somewhere, and the smell of dinner; something simple but warm drifted from the kitchen.

Noel had changed from her travel outfit into a soft lilac shift dress, her hair brushed out in loose waves. She followed the long, curving hall from the guest wing toward the dining room, fingertips grazing the wall as she walked, still memorizing the layout.

The hallway was quiet except for the distant hum of Reed’s machines until the sound of unsteady, determined footsteps pattered around the corner.

Before Noel could react, a blur of blond curls and tiny arms collided with her knees.

“oh!”

She instinctively crouched, steadying the little boy before he could fall.

Franklin Richards blinked up at her, wide eyes, pink cheeks, his tiny hands clutching her skirt like a lifeline.

“hello there,” Noel said softly, smiling, but not overly familiar. “you must be Franklin.”

Sue appeared in the doorway almost instantly, apron tied neatly over her dress, equal parts amused and apologetic.

“I’m so sorry! He’s just started walking this week, and he’s been unstoppable.”

Noel offered Franklin a gentle, brief smile then looked back to Sue as if to ask silently “is it alright if I…?”

Sue nodded, and only then did Noel lift Franklin just enough to balance him on his feet again, one hand lightly holding his tiny fingers.

“you’re very brave, running down halls all on your own,” she said softly — not cooing, not clinging, just kind.

Franklin giggled and wobbled in place.

Across the room, Johnny leaned on the doorframe, watching, grin tugging at his mouth.

Franklin saw Johnny, then looked up at Noel and squealed, clapping his little hands. He pointed between the two of them, babbling happy nonsense, like he’d discovered a new game.

The baby laughed so loudly it startled even Reed, who peeked out from the lab, pen in hand. Franklin kicked his legs, squealing, glancing between Noel and Johnny like he knew some joke the adults didn’t.

Johnny raised a brow.

“What’s so funny, little man?”

Franklin slapped his hands together and pointed his tiny fingers reaching toward Johnny, then back to Noel, then back to Johnny again, babbling nonsense but grinning like he’d solved the universe.

Sue narrowed her eyes at her son, half‑smiling.

“I think he likes you, Noel,” she said. “He doesn’t squeal for just anyone.”

Noel blushed softly, bouncing Franklin on her hip.

Johnny smirked.

“guess the kid’s got good taste.”

Noel didn’t roll her eyes or flirt back. She just smiled politely, still holding Franklin steady, and then gently handed him back to Sue as soon as Sue reached for him.

“he’s sweet,” Noel said softly. “thank you for letting me meet him.”

Sue smiled and maybe noticed how careful Noel had been, how she didn’t just grab Franklin like a new toy, how she treated this moment like something delicate.

Johnny noticed too. And for the first time all day, his grin wasn’t cocky. It was curious.

Dinner at the Baxter Building was somewhere between a family meal and a state dinner.

The dining room wasn’t enormous, but it had the kind of sleek, chrome‑and‑walnut table ANSA probably spent a fortune delivering, just big enough for the Fantastic Four, one toddler, and, now, one newcomer.

Noel walked in slowly, careful not to make it feel like she was “joining” the family too quickly. Her lilac dress caught the soft light, the faintest whisper of Chanel trailing with her, and she paused just long enough to smile politely.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” she said, voice warm, hands clasped gently in front of her.

Sue’s smile was immediate and reassuring.

“You’re not intruding, Noel. You’re part of the team now, well at least while you’re here.”

Reed barely looked up from the soup he was ladling, but he mumbled,

“Yes. Good. More perspective at the table.”

Ben Grimm rumbled out a laugh from his seat.

“That’s Reed’s version of ‘welcome.’”

Noel smiled softly and took the chair Sue gestured toward. It wasn’t the one right beside Johnny (even though Johnny had “casually” pulled it out for her), but the one across from him.

Johnny slid into the seat opposite, smirking anyway.

“Guess I’ll just have to charm you from this angle,” he said, leaning on one elbow.

Noel glanced up at him, an amused sparkle in her eyes, but she didn’t fire back. She simply unfolded her napkin, smoothed it over her lap, and said sweetly,

“I’m sure you’ll try.”

Franklin toddled in halfway through dinner.

He was barefoot, still wobbly, his blond curls sticking up in every direction, clutching a spoon he’d apparently liberated from the kitchen.

“mama!” he squealed, and Sue scooped him up immediately, settling him on her hip as she sat back down.

Franklin’s eyes landed on Noel, the recognition from earlier sparking in his little face and he let out the happiest squeal, reaching stubby arms toward her.

Noel smiled, a little shy this time. She didn’t reach for him, just offered a gentle wave.

“hello again,” she said softly.

Sue noticed the way Noel stayed in her seat, not overstepping. She shifted Franklin so he could stand on her lap, and only when Franklin leaned halfway across the table toward Noel did Sue laugh.

“I think someone’s decided he likes you.”

Noel’s blush was soft but visible.

“I think he just likes everyone,” she said modestly, though she couldn’t hide the warmth in her eyes when Franklin squealed again.

Johnny leaned back in his chair, smirking like he’d just been handed ammunition.

“He’s got good instincts. Can’t blame him. Guess he takes from his uncle Johnny.”

Noel didn’t roll her eyes — she just reached for her water glass, smiled sweetly at Franklin, and let the comment float away.

the dinner itself felt… easy.

Sue asked Noel polite questions about where she’s from, about ANSA, about the languages she knew. Reed chimed in with the occasional very‑specific science tangent that made Ben groan and made Noel laugh softly, saying things like, “I’ll try to translate that into something human later.”

Johnny, of course, kept slipping in his own questions.

“So, Noel. 20 languages. That’s like… nineteen more than me. Which one do you think sounds the sexiest?”

Noel, after a pause, smiling: “Maybe Italian.”

Johnny, leaning forward: “Then you’ll have to teach me how to say something in it. Something… romantic.”

Sue gave him the big sister look over her wine glass.

“Johnny.”

But Noel just laughed softly, not offended, not flustered. Just sweet.

“We’ll see if you earn that lesson,” she said, and turned back to Sue to ask about Franklin’s favorite storybook.

By dessert, Franklin was half‑asleep against Sue’s shoulder, Johnny was still pretending he wasn’t hanging on every word Noel said, and Noel even as she thanked Sue for the meal, even as she offered to help clear the dishes, still carried herself like a guest.

Not a stranger. But not a permanent fixture, either. Just a sweet, self‑possessed presence, slowly weaving into their orbit.

By the time the main dishes were cleared, Franklin was perched on Sue’s lap, spoon‑clutching and babbling in a mix of half‑words and half‑sounds that only a toddler could create.

“mah‑nah… peh‑soh… dah!” he giggled, slapping his hands on the table.

Reed glanced over with that look he got when faced with anything he couldn’t chart on a graph.

“He’s… experimenting with syllables,” he muttered, like Franklin was some alien machine he hadn’t quite figured out.

Sue just kissed the top of her son’s head.

“He’s talking,” she said proudly, “just in his own way.”

Franklin babbled again, this time stringing together a set of sounds so oddly intentional that Noel’s pen paused over her napkin.

Her ear caught the rhythm, the way his voice lilted just slightly at the end, it wasn’t random. He just said “bright one”…

Noel blinked down at her water glass, her fingers tightening on the napkin. She didn’t mean to translate it. It just happened.

Franklin babbled again, this time tossing his little head toward Johnny, then toward Noel, a tiny grin curling his mouth. And he add “fire man”

Her chest warmed, but she stayed quiet.

Across the table, Johnny leaned forward, grinning.

“What do you think he’s saying?” he teased, nudging Sue’s elbow. “Bet it’s something like ‘Uncle Johnny is the coolest.’”

Sue laughed, brushing a curl from Franklin’s forehead.

“I think we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Noel smiled softly, but didn’t speak up.

She didn’t want to be the one to say it.

Not at her first dinner here.

It didn’t feel fair to walk in, and already be the one who understood the words Franklin’s own parents and uncle were still learning to hear.

So she simply folded her napkin neatly, glanced at Franklin, who was still staring at her with that strange, knowing brightness and murmured gently, “He’ll tell you when he’s ready.”

Dinner wound down slowly, the last of the dishes clinking softly as Ben carried them into the kitchen, muttering about “too many forks for one meal.”

Noel rose quietly with Sue, smoothing her lilac dress, and instinctively began stacking plates.

“Oh! no, you don’t have to do that,” Sue said quickly, reaching for the plates instead. “You’re our guest.”

Noel smiled, soft and sincere.

“I don’t like just sitting there while everyone else works. Let me help.”

Sue hesitated but then let her take a few plates, a little touched by how naturally Noel offered.

In the kitchen, Noel rinsed dishes while Sue dried them, the soft sound of running water and the hum of the city outside filling the space.

From the doorway, Johnny appeared, leaning on the frame (again) with that lazy grin.

“Wow,” Johnny said, “first day here and you’re already doing dishes? You’re ruining my reputation as the helpful one.”

“You’ve never been the helpful one.” Sue snorted

Johnny shot her a mock‑offended look, then turned his eyes back to Noel.

“Seriously, though. You don’t have to do that. We have… uh… Ben for that.”

“I don’t mind,” Noel said, rinsing another plate, voice light. “Besides, I like kitchens. People talk in kitchens.”

“Oh yeah? What do people say in kitchens?” He smirked.

She glanced up then, meeting his eyes for just a beat longer than before, and smiled softly.

“The things they don’t say at the table.”

For once, Johnny didn’t have a comeback ready.

When the last dish was stacked, Sue thanked Noel again, too warmly, the way you thank someone who didn’t have to help but did anyway.

Johnny didn’t move from the doorway until Sue left the room with Franklin in her arms, humming softly.

He lingered just long enough to hand Noel a towel.

“You missed a spot,” he teased gently, tapping the corner of her hand.

She laughed under her breath, drying her fingers.

“Guess I’ll try harder tomorrow.”

Johnny smiled. Not cocky. Not smug. Just quietly charmed and for the first time that day, it felt less like he was performing and more like he was simply being there.

The Baxter Building went quiet at night in a way that felt almost unreal.

By 11, the hum of the labs dimmed, Reed’s chalkboard scratching stopped, and even Ben’s heavy footsteps faded. The city outside still glowed, but up here, the sky felt closer than the streets.

Noel sat at the small desk in her guest room, hair brushed out, falling in dark waves over the thin straps of a soft cream camisole. Her lilac dress from dinner hung neatly over the chair.

The only light came from a brass desk lamp, casting a warm halo over scattered ANSA transmissions, reels of code, jagged scripts in alien syllables, and her thin black fountain pen dancing across the page as she translated.

She didn’t hear him at first.

A soft knock came, then Johnny’s voice.

Low. Casual.

“Hey. You awake?”

Noel didn’t turn right away. Smiling faintly at her papers.

“I think so.”

The door cracked open, and Johnny leaned in, hair a little messy now, plain white t‑shirt instead of his usual show‑off clothes.

“Didn’t mean to bug you,” he said, leaning on the doorframe (always the doorframe). “Just… saw the light.”

Noel gestured lightly to the chair across from her desk.

“You’re not bugging me.”

He came in, sat down backward on the chair like a kid, arms draped over the backrest.

His eyes drifted over the papers, eyebrows raising at the looping symbols.

“Wow. So this is what you do for fun?”

Noel smiled, pen still moving.

“I wouldn’t call it fun. But it’s… satisfying.”

Johnny watched her a moment, then reached for one of the papers. Careful, but curious.

“This stuff… any of it from… her?”

Noel paused, looking up.

“Her?”

“Shalla Bal.” His voice softened without him meaning to, the cocky edge slipping. “Back when Galactus was here… I learned her language. Well. Tried to.”

Noel blinked, a little surprised.

“You really learned it?”

Johnny gave a half‑shrug, eyes on the page.

“I figured… someone had to talk to her. And the others were busy saving the world.”

For a second, the room felt very still.

Noel leaned forward slightly, interested now.

“Say something.”

Johnny hesitated — then spoke, his voice lower, slower, forming the alien syllables like a half‑remembered song:

“Arah’tel nah viin.”

Noel’s lips curved, just barely.

“That was… correct.”

He grinned, a little proud.

“What’s it mean again?”

“Fire that doesn’t burn.”

Johnny’s grin faltered. Not in disappointment, but in that way you pause when something feels bigger than you expected.

Noel set her pen down, her gaze soft but intent.

“You remembered it after all this time?”

“Guess I remember the important things,” he said, shrugging like it didn’t mean anything but his voice betrayed him.

Silence hung for a moment. Not awkward, just… warm.

Noel went back to her notes, flipping one page, her handwriting looping easily.

Johnny didn’t leave.

He leaned forward on the chair, chin resting on his arms, watching her pen move.

“Do you ever get tired of words?” he asked softly.

Noel looked up, surprised by the question.

“No,” she said after a beat. “But sometimes I get tired of silence.”

Johnny’s smile returned, softer this time.

“Guess I’ll have to keep you company then.”

The clock ticked softly, the papers stayed scattered, and for the first time that night, the space between them felt like possibility.

⸻

ANSA called it a “routine observational survey.”

Which, Noel quickly realized, meant: “We don’t think anything’s wrong, but we want you to go stare at the sky for us just in case.”

The skycraft waiting on the Baxter Building roof, with all chrome curves and neat 60s paneling, big ANSA logo stamped on the side.

Reed explained its specs for too long, Sue checked the checklist twice, and Ben grumbled about the seats being “too damn small for a guy made of rocks.”

Noel stood a little to the side, silk scarf tied in her hair, pale blue shift dress catching the wind. She carried only a leather folio and her pen.

Johnny leaned against the railing next to her, sunglasses even though the morning fog dulled the sun.

“You ever flown in one of these before?”

Noel glanced at the sleek skycraft, then at him.

“I’ve flown. But not in that.”

“You’ll like it. I’m piloting.” He smirked.

Noel raised one eyebrow, so subtle it was almost a dare.

“Should I be reassured by that?”

Johnny put a hand over his chest, mock‑offended.

“I’m an excellent pilot.”

“I’m sure you are,” she said sweetly, not sarcastic, just… almost.

Inside, the craft smelled like leather and ozone. Sue and Reed sat up front (Sue with a clipboard, Reed already tinkering with a dial), Ben took up the entire back row, and Johnny, naturally, slid into the pilot seat.

Noel strapped in beside him, graceful and unbothered, smoothing her skirt over her knees.

Johnny shot her a grin as he flicked switches.

“Nervous?”

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

She turned her head, eyes calm and soft.

“Would you like me to be?”

Johnny choked on a laugh, eyes darting back to the controls.

“…uh, no. Guess not.”

They lifted off smoothly (to Johnny’s credit).

The Baxter Building shrank behind them, the city glittering like a model set beneath the morning haze.

Noel watched through the window, fingers resting on her folio, scarf fluttering softly.

Johnny watched her watching.

Halfway there, Reed and Sue were lost in technical chatter, Ben had dozed off (snoring like distant thunder), and the cockpit went quiet.

Johnny leaned back, one hand on the controls, the other drumming lightly on the console.

“So… do you ever relax?” he asked, glancing at her sideways.

Noel looked at him, brow slightly furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re always writing, translating, decoding… you ever just… turn it off?”

Noel smiled faintly, eyes returning to the window.

“I don’t think my brain has an ‘off.’”

Johnny smirked.

“Maybe I’ll have to find the switch.”

Noel didn’t look at him — but the corner of her mouth curved.

“You can try.”

The craft dipped through a veil of thin, pearly clouds — and then the world below turned white.

A lonely ANSA listening post clung to the shoulder of a snow‑bright mountain, its chrome domes and tall antennae looking almost alien against the rock and ice.

They touched down on a cleared landing pad, the craft’s legs sinking a fraction into frost.

The hatch hissed open, and a slap of cold air rolled in, crisp and clean enough to bite.

Johnny hopped out first.

He was already grinning, already holding out a hand to Noel like it was a red carpet.

“Careful,” he said, smirk tugging his mouth. “Wouldn’t want the ANSA prodigy to slip.”

Noel stepped out without missing a beat, taking his hand only long enough for balance but not for longer than necessary.

Her silk scarf fluttered in the icy wind, her heels somehow managing the frozen ground with quiet grace.

“I’m fine,” she said softly, but with a smile that wasn’t unkind.

By the time they crossed the short path to the station, Johnny had shed his jacket.

“You cold?” he asked, already holding it out to her.

Noel blinked at him, lips parting just slightly. Not offended, just amused.

“You’ll freeze,” she pointed out.

“I’m the Human Torch,” Johnny said, shrugging like that explained everything. “I don’t freeze.”

Noel hesitated, then let him drape it over her shoulders.

It was warm. Warmer than she expected.

She didn’t say thank you, not because she wasn’t grateful, but because the way she smoothed the collar, the soft smile she gave him instead, said more.

The listening post smelled like dust and machine oil, the hum of old radio towers vibrating faintly through the walls.

Reed and Sue immediately buried themselves in the consoles, Ben inspected the snack cabinet, and Noel drifted toward the main receiver, a retro‑futuristic radio board covered in switches and dials.

Her fingers hovered over a series of blinking lights.

A sound; faint, jagged, not quite static, bled through the speakers.

Johnny, leaning on the table beside her, tilted his head.

“That just sounds like noise to me.”

Noel leaned closer, adjusting the dial just a hair. The sound sharpened.

“It’s not noise,” she murmured, half to herself. “It’s… trying to be words.”

Johnny straightened.

“You can tell?”

“I can feel it.”

She caught the signal again, catching fragments, a cadence too intentional for static, syllables too deliberate to be accident.

Her pen scratched across her notebook, writing symbols faster than Johnny could follow.

Johnny watched her work, his usual grin slipping into something softer — curiosity shading into real respect.

“You just… hear it, don’t you?” he said quietly.

Noel didn’t look up.

“I listen.”

The signal fizzled out, leaving only static — but Noel had enough on the page to study later.

She straightened, slipping her pen into her folio.

Johnny looked at the notebook, then back at her, grinning again but this time, not teasing.

“You’re kind of incredible, you know that?”

Noel didn’t blush. She didn’t preen.

She just gave a little smile, adjusting his jacket around her shoulders.

“I just hear things most people don’t,” she said softly. “That doesn’t make me incredible. It just makes me… useful.”

Johnny’s grin softened, and for a moment, the wind outside howled against the domes, and it felt like the rest of the world had gone quiet.

Reed’s voice cut through the hum of static.

“Signal died out?”

Noel turned, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“For now,” she said, her tone even. “I’ll take these notes back to ANSA for cross‑referencing. There’s a pattern, but I need time.”

Reed nodded, already folding back into his work like an origami man.

Ben rummaged through a cabinet and pulled out a bag of freeze‑dried marshmallows.

“Whole outpost and not a single decent snack,” he muttered, tearing the bag open anyway.

Johnny lingered by Noel’s shoulder. He wasn’t smirking now, not really. There was an edge of something quieter, like he was still thinking about how easily she’d caught that signal.

“So that’s it? You just… pick up a whisper and somehow know what it’s saying?”

Noel shrugged, but not in an evasive way.

“Not always. Sometimes it’s just sound. Sometimes it’s… a little more than that.”

Johnny leaned against the table, close enough for her to catch the faint smell of his cologne; warm, smoky, something a little sharper underneath.

“You ever get tired of being the smartest person in the room?” he asked, and this time it wasn’t teasing.

She glanced at him, and her lips curved into the softest smile.

“I’m not the smartest person in the room,” she said. “I just listen differently.”

Outside, the wind rattled against the thin metal walls of the station. Sue was asking Reed about energy spikes; Ben was still chewing marshmallows with absolute disregard for manners.

Johnny tilted his head toward the door.

“C’mon. You’ve been hunched over that radio since we landed. Let me at least show you the view.”

The sky was a sheet of pale blue, the snow blinding where the sun hit it. Below, clouds lapped at the mountain like a pale ocean.

Noel wrapped Johnny’s jacket tighter around her shoulders. Itwas too big, but somehow perfect.

Johnny shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels, watching her as much as the horizon.

“You know, most people don’t even bother learning one other language. You’ve got, what? twenty?”

“Twenty‑three,” she corrected softly, then smiled when he blinked. “But only seventeen fluently.”

He laughed under his breath, the sound warm in the cold air.

“Seventeen’s still insane.”

“It’s not insane,” she said gently. “It’s just… what my brain knows how to do.”

The wind swept her scarf across her cheek, and without thinking, Johnny reached to catch the end before it could fly loose.

His fingers brushed the soft silk and then her wrist.

For a second, she didn’t move, and neither did he.

“You always do that?” she asked softly, looking at him.

“Do what?”

“Catch things before they fall.”

Johnny held her gaze for just a beat too long, his usual quip dying on his tongue.

“Guess I try.”

The sound of the hatch opening behind them broke the moment.

Sue’s voice floated out, brisk and bright:

“We’re packing up. Reed says we’ve got all we need.”

Noel turned back toward the station, smoothing her scarf. Johnny’s jacket stayed draped over her shoulders, the warmth lingering as she walked ahead.

Johnny watched her for a beat, shoving his hands back into his pockets, the grin creeping back onto his face but softer now, not just for show.

The craft rumbled as it lifted from the snow‑bright mountain, the listening post shrinking beneath a gauze of clouds.

Johnny slouched into the seat beside Noel, buckling in with one hand and tossing her a crooked grin.

“Lucky you. Assigned the best seat on the ship. Again.”

Noel arched a brow, the ghost of a smile touching her mouth.

“You chose to sit here, Johnny.”

“Semantics,” he said, leaning back, arms sprawled a little too wide across the armrest.

The cabin was warm enough that she’d returned his jacket before boarding, but her scarf was still draped around her neck, the faintest scent of his cologne clinging to it.

Johnny tilted his head, eyes flicking to the notebook balanced on her lap.

“You were writing so fast back there. Like… possessed‑fast. What’s it like? Hearing something no one else can?”

Noel traced her pen along the notebook’s spine.

“It’s… hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

She glanced at him, the faintest crinkle of amusement in her eyes.

“It’s like… standing in a room full of whispers. Most people hear nothing. I hear which ones are trying to be words.”

Johnny sat up a little, watching her instead of smirking.

“That’s… kinda amazing.”

She didn’t roll her eyes, didn’t brush it off. She just gave a small, humble smile.

“It’s just what I do.”

a beat of silence.

The craft hummed around them. Sue and Reed were across the aisle, murmuring over readings. Ben was already dozing in the back.

Johnny leaned a little closer.

“So… do you ever turn it off?”

“What?”

“The listening. Like, when someone’s talking — are you always decoding every little thing?”

She tilted her head, thinking.

“Not unless I want to. Some people speak in ways they want understood. Others… don’t.”

Johnny’s mouth tugged into a grin.

“And me?”

She looked at him fully now, lips pressing together like she was holding something back — a smile, maybe.

“You’re… very easy to understand.”

Johnny pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense.

“Wow. Brutal.”

“Not brutal,” she corrected softly. “Just clear.”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head but the smile that lingered was quieter this time.

The craft landed as twilight stretched across the city, windows catching the last glints of gold.

Inside, the familiar warmth of the Baxter Building hit, metal and marble and something softer underneath, like home.

Franklin’s babbling echoed faintly down the hall before they even reached the guest wing.

Sue had her shoes off, hair pinned up, already shifting from mission‑mode to mother‑mode.

Johnny hung back just long enough to watch Noel take in the space, the corners of her mouth lifting in that soft, almost private smile of hers.

Susan glanced over her shoulder, voice lilting:

“Johnny, you could help Noel settle in, show her where everything is. I’ve left quite a few things yesterday. Sorry!”

Johnny grinned.

“Oh, I planned on it.”

Noel’s laugh. It’s soft, polite, but genuine and it filled the hallway, and Johnny caught himself smiling just a little too wide.

⸻

The Baxter Building felt different at night.

The labs dimmed to a soft hum, the sky outside a stretch of navy glass.

Sue was slipping on earrings as Reed tried (and failed) to knot his tie. Ben stomped in, cradling a very wiggly Franklin in one arm.

“We’re out,” Ben grumbled, reaching for Franklin’s tiny jacket. “The kid’s gettin’ a sleepover at Alicia’s.”

Franklin babbled happily, kicking his feet. His eyes flicked to Noel, and he made that same squeal of delight he’d made the first time he saw her.

Noel smiled softly, crouching just low enough to straighten his little sleeve. Careful not to overstep, just a gentle gesture.

“Have fun, Franklin.”

Minutes later, the front doors clicked shut.

Silence.

Johnny leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, the ghost of a grin tugging his mouth.

“Well. Guess it’s just you and me.”

Noel blinked, then smiled, not wary, not nervous, just amused.

“Guess so.”

Johnny was sprawled on the couch like he owned gravity.

A menu sat open on the coffee table.

“Okay, question. Pizza, noodles, or both?”

“Both,” Noel said simply, kicking off her heels before sinking into the far corner of the couch, tucking one leg under her.

Johnny’s brows lifted.

“I like the way you think.” He said as he walked over to the phone to ring for delivery.

A little later, the food arrived.

Boxes stacked on the coffee table. The TV flickered to life, something black‑and‑white and half‑forgotten on a late‑night channel.

Johnny slid a plate her way.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he said, smirk half‑formed.

Noel reached anyway, brushing his fingers lightly by accident as she took it.

“So are you,” she said without thinking then blinked, realising how that sounded.

Johnny froze, then that grin spread, slow and way too satisfied.

“You think I’m hot?”

Noel met his look, cheeks warming, but she didn’t flinch.

“I meant the pizza.”

“Uh‑huh.”

Half an hour later — post‑dinner.

Johnny had shifted closer. Not too close but his knee nearly touched hers, and every time he leaned to grab something off the table, his arm brushed hers.

He was talking, gesturing with half a breadstick, trying just a bit too hard to get her to laugh and when she did laugh, it wasn’t a loud laugh, but soft, warm, genuine.

Johnny stilled for a moment, like he hadn’t expected that sound to hit as hard as it did.

“You should laugh more,” he said quietly.

Noel looked at him, tilting her head. “Why?”

“Because…” Johnny shrugged, a rare flicker of sincerity peeking through his usual swagger. “It’s a good sound.”

The TV droned on in the background, but neither of them were really watching anymore.

Noel curled her fingers around the edge of his jacket still draped over the armrest, her nails brushing the fabric absently.

Johnny noticed.

He didn’t comment but his grin softened, and for once, he didn’t fill the silence.

The movie on the TV had long since switched from a spy thriller to some strange variety show, and the pizza boxes sat open and forgotten on the table.

Johnny’s arm was draped along the back of the couch, casual at first.

Noel sat close enough that when she shifted, her shoulder brushed his chest. She didn’t move away, just tugged his jacket over her knees like a blanket, eyelids getting heavier with every minute.

Johnny noticed.

“You’re falling asleep on me,” he teased, voice quieter now, almost a murmur.

“Mm, no,” Noel whispered, not even convincing herself.

Her head tipped against his shoulder.

He didn’t move.

For once, Johnny Storm, the loudest person in every room, went still.

30 minutes later.

She was fully asleep, breathing soft, lashes resting against her cheek.

Johnny glanced at the clock, rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, then looked down at her again.

“Guess we’re doing this,” he muttered to himself, smiling despite it.

Carefully. So carefully, he shifted, slipping an arm beneath her knees and another around her back.

Noel stirred just faintly, head tucking against his shoulder, but didn’t wake.

Johnny’s grin softened into something only a few people had ever seen. Something real.

The Baxter Building was quiet, lights dimmed.

Johnny walked slow, careful not to jostle her.

He didn’t notice the front door clicking open.

Didn’t notice Reed and Sue stepping in, coats still dusted with snow.

Sue froze first.

Reed blinked, then just quietly took his wife’s bag like it was an ordinary Tuesday.

Johnny didn’t see them. He was too focused on adjusting his hold so Noel’s head wouldn’t bump the wall.

“Night, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmured under his breath as he nudged her door open with his foot.

The room smelled faintly of her perfume. Powdery. Soft.

Johnny lowered her gently onto the bed, tugged the jacket from around her knees, and hesitated.

For a second, he just watched her. That same soft look in his eyes, then brushed one stray strand of hair from her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“Sweet dreams, genius,” he whispered, barely audible.

He slipped out as quietly as he came.

Johnny closed the door and turned and almost jumped when he saw Sue leaning against the wall, arms crossed, one brow arched.

“Hey,” he said, voice pitching up. “You’re back.”

Sue’s smile was small, knowing.

“We saw you.”

“Saw me what?”

“Carrying her,” Sue said simply, her voice both sharp and teasing. “Looked very… sweet.”

Johnny rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very interested in the ceiling.

“She fell asleep on the couch. What was I supposed to do? Leave her there?”

Sue tilted her head, that smile sharpening.

“You like her.”

Johnny blinked. Too quick to deny it. Too slow to hide it.

“She’s… different,” He admitted finally, voice quieter than usual.

Sue’s expression softened, teasing slipping into real warmth.

“Then don’t screw it up, Johnny.”

Johnny met her eyes, his usual cocky grin flickering back but softer, almost shy.

“I won’t.”

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gigizzz · 2 months ago

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3 : 27 [TEASER]

🅟🅐🅘🅡🅘🅝🅖: idol!Lee Minho x Fem!Reader

🅖🅔🅝🅡🅔: Fluff. Slightly Angst. Not so Much but Still Suggestive. Strangers To Lovers.

🅦🅐🅡🅝🅘🅝🅖🅢: None. Pure Strangers To Lovers!! Enjoy!

Hey so uhm this isn't actually the real thing, it's just a part of what I've been working on recently. I hope you like this little piece of writing I did. Thank you for reading, enjoy!

🅽🅾🆆 🅻🅸🆂🆃🅴🅽🅸🅽🅶: Beautiful Stranger by Laufey

12 : 57 PM

The actually very loud rumor of a pretty girl as the new neighbor in the building was echoing through all the walls. And we can surely say, it's true.

The loud sound of the door closing echoes, and a low grumble sounds.

Minho, in his damp clothes due to the way the clouds are falling apart and wetting the whole earth, throws his keys to a table and stumbles like a storm into the insides of the house. He was angry.

Soon enough, he finds two guys chatting, who stop their conversation to look at him, wet and soaking the floor. Jisung and Hyunjin.

“...You good-” The long-haired boy tried to say, but he got cut off by the -not so- melodic voice of an annoyed Lee Minho.

“No. Guess who stayed outside with this fucking cloud awakening because a certain someone left my keys in a part of my bag that i didn't even fucking know exist.”

Jisung shot a warning look towards Hyunjin. He needed to run. Now. Or his mouth would end up full of tissues…Again.

The 𝚗𝚘𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚢 sound of the rain was nothing compared to the 𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 yelling between Minho and Hyunjin while the last one was running for his life.

Meanwhile, in the apt next to theirs there was a meticulous meeting. Bangchan, Changbin and Jeongin were watching some old movie, the elders giving the younger one some cult about movies.

When suddenly, the ring belled.

Jeongin sighs heavily, acting as if it was hell to take his eyes off of the TV...Even though he was, in fact, hating the movie so he would do anything in his power to get out of the boring trap his members put him in.

"Hello?"

Jeongin looks up only to meet a beautiful smile and the prettiest girl he'll ever see in his whole life. You.

"...Hi"

"Nice to meet you! I'm gonna be your new neighbor."

"Oh.."

The two other members forgot the movie the moment they saw the younger one open the door just to see the neck of this one getting redder by the second.

"Innie? Who is it?" Bangchan asks from the living room.

"Uhh..It seems like..The new neighbor..."

1 : 28 PM

“Hyung, you don’t get it! She has the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen! And she seems so kind..” Jeongin rambles to Felix excitedly while the blonde one is stirring in a bowl a delicious dough for chocolate chip cookies.

“Maybe we can give her some cookies too, as a welcome gift…And, you can go deliver them, just so she knows you’re still rambling about her” Felix answers calmly with a subtle smirk and his hair messy.

Nothing could go wrong..

…

2 : 44 PM

Everything went wrong.

Jeongin had the biggest headache ever, he couldn’t even get up from bed. The members said it was maybe because he ran under the rain expecting to be invincible, knowing damn well he's the first one to get the flues between the members.

He begged a hundred times and tried to convince the guys he was okay, he could go give you your cookies and everything would be fine!..

right?

Well...No. The members had other plans...

Changbin had to go to dinner with a famous brand that wanted to make him an ambassador, it wouldn't be professional if he decided not to show up.

Felix had a very important runway and after making the cookies he disappeared from everyone's eyes to go there.

Bangchan and Jisung had a very important appointment with the producer of a very famous idol to collaborate with, they HAD to go, even if Changbin was busy.

Seungmin went to a baseball practice since one of the players from Lotter Giants invited him to practice with them. HOW COULD HE NOT GO?

And guess what? It ended with only three members in one apt. Hyunjin, Jeongin and Minho. Hyunjin decided to stay at home to take care of Innie but we all know it was obviously to shower him with affection while he was in a “DEPLORABLE AND MISERABLE CONDITION. POOR LITTLE GUY”. While Minho was just chilling playing some car game on his phone, not really paying attention to the interaction between those two.

“Minho-hyung, how about you give it?” Hyunjin asks out of nowhere, Minho’s ears prick up immediately at the mention of his name.

“Excuse me? To give what?” The brunette one narrows his eyes at the sudden suggestion.

Unexpectedly, Jeongin lets out a whine and hides his face on his hands before turning around and wrapping himself on the blanket like the biggest burrito ever seen.

“Hyung, Innie wanted to give the new neighbour some of the cookies Lix made. But..you know, since he’s sick he can’t” Hyunjin calmly explains while stroking the younger member.

“Don’t touch me!” Jeongin whines, squirming away from his touch. It’s obvious how upset he is by the whole situation. He decides he’ll try to speak to the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and immediately life turns him down. Maybe this love thing wasn’t for him..

“No.”

Minho immediately answers before going back to play on his phone, his gaze locked on it.

The long-hair one, Hyunjin, stands up almost immediately and walks out of the room. Not before telling Minho to follow him.

Hyunjin takes Minho to another room and lets out a deep sigh before murmuring so the younger one doesn’t hear.

“...Hyung, do you know how important this is for him?”

“I can’t. Really. I’m busy” Minho tries to explain but the blonde one cuts him off.

“Pleasee. I’m sure you don’t wanna hear Innie’s whining for a full month! Me neither!!”

Hyunjin insists with a firm and certain expression, but his eyes showing need, as if he was pleading him.

Minho sighs, looking away.

“Where are the cookies?”

3 : 27

A soft knock interrupts your watch-series-all-day party, you put on a golden retriever puppy oversized shirt and walk to the door to open it.

As soon as you do, you realize you might’ve opened the doors to heaven.

There he is, a sharp jaw. Not tense. Just sharp, but you still swear you want to see how his sweat falls down from his face with that handsome jaw. That’d be so hot.

Dark brown eyes so deep you see a sea in them.

And brunette hair so soft you wonder if he ever gets hair tangles.

“Hey”

Minho says with a small comforting smile, you could, no- you melt from his sweet gummy smile, he seems so sweet and kind. Just your type.

You clean your throat and look away as a reflex. You can’t stand those big bright eyes staring at you for so long.

“Hi!”

You smile excitedly.

“I’m Minho. It’s very nice to meet you. I live in the apartment right next to yours with some friends. Them and I decided to give you some brownies as a welcome treat”

He speaks calmly, as if his heart wasn’t thumping like crazy. He would never admit it out loud with the members but he actually thought you were cute. But not the wow-she-so-cute kind of cute, but the i-want-to-kiss-her-lips kind of cute.

Minho extenders both arms with a taper in his hands, inside there were a lot of cookies. Your smile widens and you nod happily, taking the taper into your hands.

“Hi Minho, nice to meet you too” You let out a shy chuckle before telling him your name and asking if he’d like to enter for a tea or some cookies. He gently denies it but simply thanks you for it before leaving.

And there you are, arrowed by cupid. But what you didn’t think of is that cupid is still a little baby, and he doesn’t know how to take proper choices.

I hope you liked it!! I tried. Oh, and english it's not my first language so plz forgive any mistake in the writing and help me improve it on the comments! TYSM FOR READING.

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ateez-himari · 2 months ago

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'KILLIN' IT GIRL' (FLIRT VER.)

Artists with deadly charm take to the stage without notice.

June 14, 2025 (11:50PM)

The 'Hope On The Stage Tour' revealed another version of the single "Killin' It Girl", this time featuring the melodic rapping voice of none other than untouchable songwriter, Himari - and no soul was truly prepared for what followed once the younger artist stepped onto the stage. J-Hope's choreography demonstrated an explicit side to the maturity that the group's image tends to discard, and flustered attendees have been spreading endless clips of the incredible chemistry allowing such intimate moves throughout social media platforms.

Without much surprise, the video that found the most virality was taken during the young woman's verse where there appeared to be no space remaining between their bodies - the choreography's fluid nature, demanding constant movement, leading to the artists essentially grinding against one another. Focused angles uploaded on the second day revealed the rapper's hands running along an exposed figure rather erotically ; wandering upwards from the lower half of her waistband to her delicate neck - lingering on her waist as they exchanged flirtatious looks.

Netizens were slightly doubtful about this collaboration due to the relationship they have built over earlier years and the performance's rather explicit nature, though it was the more logical choice artistically as her vocals are already featured in the background of the chorus - helping this new verse to incorporate itself seamlessly. Another point of contention that could be raised is the maknae's jaw dropping ease in mirroring voices ; having adapted to Agust D's aggressive delivery when performing alongside him and now replicating J-Hope's softer tone, creating a sensual harmony that easily painted the lines' hidden meanings in the mind of listeners.

An interaction between siblings that had not been caught together on camera for several months made everyone briefly set aside the performance, as Himari was seen immediately running into the arms of her older brother when joining the members on their private balcony, rambling on about something inaudible to those filming as one of his hands gently brushed through her disheveled hair. Throughout the rest of the night she was seen clinging on to Yoongi, who did not seem against this despite his usual rejection of skinship, keeping their hands interlocked even when immersing herself in the music and only letting go to play around with her best friend.

The final concert earlier tonight was without doubt the most provocative of the two performances as not only did their outfits reveal much more skin, but they seemed to have gotten more comfortable with this concept following the many positive reactions demonstrated by attendees. This time the moves were much closer to mimicking actual erotic actions, adding in details such as hair pulling, the young woman hooking a hand behind his thigh to pull him closer and even their expressions had become more performative - likely due to her brother's absence.

What is important to consider when it comes to artistic decisions in this stage is the fact that regardless of ties they may have to one another, they are professionals whose career circles around taking on various personas in front of audiences in order to immerse them in whatever concept is being played out. Himari and J-Hope have made it clear to their respective fanbases that they are very comfortable with one another, which is why they decided to move forward with the track rather than using his solo version. The rapper was seen backstage checking in with his featured artist on the first day to assure that nothing was uncomfortable, kissing the top of her head before hurrying into position as she left to change.

Himari had been rather vocal regarding desires to pursue more sensual sounds since the release of 'Addict' and it seemed as though this was the perfect opportunity to demonstrate this side of personal artistry that has been veiled over. With the group in the midst of promotions for their newest release 'Golden Hour : Part 3' these appearances only serve to truly demonstrate the maknae's passion for everything she does as energy was kept high despite the highly demanding moves and music show recordings shot early in the morning.

Atiny truly hope that they can see this concept more often as it seemed to have been made for her, but for now as ATEEZ's activities have begun filling their schedules once more it seems they will have to wait. Please continue to stream 'Killin' It Girl (flirt ver.)' by J-Hope and 'Golden Hour : Part 3' by ATEEZ, remember to vote on music shows to support our hard-working idols!

Share This Post

Taglist ; @prbywoo , @marissa-11 , @angie-x3

#ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez 9th member #ateez extra member #ateez female member #kpop oc #himarinews♡

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niggadiffusion · 4 months ago

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AI as a Partner in Music Production: Unveiling the Future of Sound

In the shadowy corners of a home studio, a producer faces her DAW, stuck on a beat that refuses to come together. Hours pass, yet the perfect drum pattern eludes her. Frustrated, she uploads her existing melody to an AI music tool, tweaks a few settings, and waits. Moments later, five drum patterns appear—each offering a unique groove that blends seamlessly with her chord progression. The third…

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sxswriter · 10 months ago

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Not Safe for Work

Summary: Maybe agreeing to work on a project with Mr. Sylus, CEO of a billionaire company, wasn't the greatest idea you had

WC: 2.4k

CW: Mature content (mdni), fingering, smut

As a fresh graduate, securing a position with Onychinus Corporation’s strategy and business development department was almost a dream come true. Over your first two years with the company, you poured your heart into your work, and your dedication paid off as you consistently delivered impressive results. You quickly rose to become one of the top performers in your department.

So, when the CEO, Mr. Sylus, sought someone from your department to collaborate on a pivotal project for a stakeholders’ meeting, it was no surprise to anyone that your supervisor personally recommended you. This was the breakthrough you had been waiting for—a chance to prove you were ready for a bigger role.

However, your enthusiasm soon began to fade as you encountered the harsh reality of working one-on-one with Mr. Sylus. The infamous rumors about his ruthless reputation proved all too accurate. In the first few weeks, you found yourself increasingly frustrated as he dismissed every idea you proposed without hesitation, dragging you back to square one repeatedly.

Working closely with him, you slowly began to understand the rationale behind his madness. To ensure his company remained a leader in the industry, every decision needed to be calculated and precise–there was no room for mistakes. Although the progress was slow, you quickly learned everything he taught and were able to finally gain his acknowledgment.

As the months passed, another challenge emerged: your growing attraction to him. He was undeniably attractive, and the constant proximity in his office made it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. You still cursed yourself for wearing new heels that one day, which led to a slight stumble and a coffee spill all over his expensive shirt. When you instinctively reached to wipe the stain, you felt his muscles tense as he grasped your wrist, his voice smooth as he reassured you not to worry. But when he turned his back to change into a spare shirt, you couldn’t help but stare, captivated by the way his back muscles flexed. The image would linger in your mind throughout the day.

Or that one time he had asked you to retrieve something from his bookshelf. Even with your heels, you struggled to reach it, your fingertips barely grazing the item. Just then, you felt his warm presence behind you, his body pressing against your back as he effortlessly grabbed the item you were straining for. You turned your head slightly, catching his smirk as he leaned in closer. With a low, teasing whisper, he said, “Whenever you find yourself struggling to reach anything, just call me. I’d be happy to help.” The heat of his breath sent a shiver down your spine that lingered long after he stepped away

Perhaps the most distracting incident came on the day you quickly grabbed a muffin for breakfast at the first-floor bakery. Waking up late left you with only five minutes to meet him outside the conference room for an important meeting. As he asked you to wait before entering, the atmosphere changed as he stood right in front of you. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your lips as he gently wiped away the crumbs. “You had something on your lips,” he said, his gaze lingering on your mouth. The warmth of his touch sent a rush of heat through you, and when he held the door open for you, your mind was still reeling. Inside the conference room, you struggled to focus on the meeting as thoughts of that brief, intimate moment consumed you.

You also began to see a different side of Mr. Sylus. Beneath the stern facade of the ruthless CEO, he was surprisingly human. He would occasionally play melodic tunes on the record player in his office, which meant enduring his comically off-key humming. One day, you playfully teased him about how horrible he sounded, and he shot back with a critique of your taste in music, making you laugh. He opened up about mentoring two young men named Luke and Kieran, recognizing their potential and taking them under his wing. He shared his calendar with you, encouraging you to drop by his office whenever he had free time, and gave you his number for any needs that might arise.

As time passed, you couldn’t ignore the feelings developing for him. You tried to rationalize it, convincing yourself it was simply a result of working closely together. But deep down, you knew it was because you saw him for who he truly was, not just the CEO but a passionate, driven man with a vulnerable side.

And you knew it was wrong. You had agreed to take on this project for the opportunity, but now you found yourself distracted. A part of you understood the potential consequences of continuing down this path. After all, he was the CEO—there were more important things on his mind.

That morning, you sat at your desk in the strategy and business department, tapping your nails against the surface as you pondered the best way to distance yourself from him and bow out of the project. After a moment of hesitation, you slowly typed up your email:

Dear Mr. Sylus,

I hope this email finds you well. I want to express my gratitude for the opportunity to work under your leadership for the past few months. Learning from you has truly been an enlightening experience. However, due to personal reasons, I would like to be removed from this project. Although I am saddened to come to this decision, I am confident that many talented individuals within the strategy and business department can pick up where I left off and deliver promising results. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Y/N

With a sigh, you hit send, feeling a mix of relief and dread. You knew this was the right choice for your sanity before you fell in too deep. As you stared at the screen, anxiety churned in your stomach, unsure of how he would respond.

An hour later, you saw his reply:

Stop by my office at 12 PM.

Fuck, well that backfired.

Nervously, you entered his office at the designated time, your heart pounding as you approached him. He leaned against his desk, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with a black pen. The intensity of his gaze made you feel as if you were his prey, walking into a trap.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” you managed to say, trying to keep your voice steady.

His gaze was heavy, almost piercing. “You’re avoiding me,” he said, getting straight to the point. “Why?”

“I’m no—“

“Don’t lie to me.” He interrupted, his eyes narrowing slightly, a hint of frustration evident.

What was his deal? you thought, a mix of annoyance and confusion bubbling within you. You straightened your posture, defiance rising. “Mr. Sylus, I am not avoiding you. I just have too much on my plate and can’t balance this project on top of my other responsibilities.”

In a swift movement, Sylus grabbed your wrist, and lifted you, positioning you atop his desk, his legs between yours, you could feel the heat radiating from him. His hands were planted firmly on the desk, one on either side of you, effectively caging you in. As he leaned in slightly forward, the proximity made your heart race, a mixture of frustration and undeniable attraction coursing through you. “I said don’t lie to me.”

You glared at him, pushing against his solid frame, but he didn’t budge. “Sylus, what the hell?!”

Frustration bubbled within you, and you finally relented. “Fine! I…” You started, refusing to meet his gaze. “I’ve developed feelings that shouldn’t exist. As a result, working with you now… feels inappropriate and is starting to affect my work.” The admission hung in the air, heavy and raw, as you fought to keep your voice steady, feeling both vulnerable and exposed.

You pushed against him again, desperate for some distance from him. “Anyway, If you have a problem with me no longer wanting to be around you, you could easily find someone to replace me! I’m pretty sure there’s plenty of employees who would jump at the offer.” Your frustration was mounting, “Now, can you please move?”

Sylus gently cupped your chin, drawing your gaze to his intense eyes. “You seem to misunderstand, so let me clarify: I have no intention of replacing you. Do you know why?” He leaned in closer, the space between your lips almost nonexistent. “Because I adore you.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, and you stammered, “W-what?”

“I’ve been aware of how inappropriate it would be to voice those feelings, so I stayed silent,” he continued, his tone steady and serious. “I didn’t want to put you in a compromising position or make you feel pressured to reciprocate because of our roles. I wanted you to come to your feelings for me in your own time.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, shifting everything between you.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. It took your breath away to know that he felt the same way you did. A whirlwind of emotions surged through you—relief, joy, and a lingering frustration. The vulnerability of the moment wrapped around you like a warm embrace, making you feel both exposed and cherished. Your heart swelled, the weight of uncertainty lifting as you realized you weren’t alone in your feelings.

Before Sylus could continue talking, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a sudden, electrifying kiss. He responded instantly, a fire igniting between you, as if he had been waiting for this moment just as much, if not more, than you. He pressed you down until your back was flat against his desk. Kicking your heels off, you wrapped your legs around him, drawing him even closer, determined to eliminate any space that remained between you both.

Leaving your lips, he trailed kisses down your neck, and you couldn’t help the soft, sweet sounds that fell from your lips. The warmth of his touch sent shivers coursing through your body, and the ache inside you deepened. You felt a heat rising within you, the desire for him growing stronger, turning into a palpable longing that was impossible to ignore. He carefully lifted your blouse over your head and removed your bra, his intense gaze fixed on you, a fire burning in his eyes. As you lay exposed, you welcomed the coolness of his desk against your skin, a refreshing contrast to the heat igniting between you.

Your nipples hardened as if yearning for his attention—and who was he to deny them? He took one of your sensitive buds into his mouth, while his fingers skillfully teased and tugged at the other. Your body instinctively leaned into his touch, a silent testament to the effect he had on you. You lifted your hip, signaling the area where you craved him the most.

Lifting himself, he gently pulled your pencil skirt off and underwear, leaving you fully exposed. With one hand planted on the table, the other began teasingly rubbing against your core. He watched as you whimpered in delight, the sounds spilling from your lips were music to his ears. Gently, he inserted one finger into your entrance. He smirked in satisfaction feeling how wet you were. “You’re so eager for me, kitten,” he said while inserting another finger, establishing a slow and steady pace inside you.

He lowered his face to your lips again, sharing a slow kiss while his fingers quickened their speed. “Such a good girl.” He whispered into your ear. Maintaining the steady rhythm he set, you sensed your climax quickly approaching.

Just as you felt yourself about to unravel, a voice you recognized as the receptionist crackled through the speaker: “Mr. Sylus, the consultant company you asked for is on line 1.”

No! you thought desperately.

You were so close.

“Make sure to stay quiet; we wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea,” he said. You were confused by what he meant by that.

It wasn’t until he accepted the call while still working fingers inside you that the realization hit you—he had no intention of stopping. Meeting his gaze, you saw him lift his unoccupied hand and press a finger to his lips, urging you to be quiet

As Sylus engaged in the call, his eyes remained fixed on you. You could see the playful glimmer in his gaze as he entered a third finger, making it hard to contain yourself. You slapped your hand against your lips to stay silent.

“I trust that this is something you can handle,” he said in response to something the man on the line mentioned, but the way he looked at you made it clear the message was for you.

“Thanks for your time Mr. Sylus, I’ll follow up with any updates next week.” The voice on the speaker faded, followed by the sharp click that marked the end of the cell.

“Sy—ahh—,” you whined, your thoughts a jumbled mess, unable to form a coherent sentence as pleasure coursed through you. All you could focus on was the sweet finish ahead and the man who would take you there. Desperate for some stability, you pulled Sylus closer, seeking his warmth as a way to ground yourself. His breath was warm against your skin, making it harder to think straight, but you needed him there, anchoring you in the moment.

When you finally came undone, your eyes rolled back, engulfed by the overwhelming rush that consumed you. You hadn’t expected for it to feel this intense, leaving you breathless.

As you struggled to catch your breath, you watched as Sylus finally removed his fingers, your face was practically burning as you watched him lick the fingers which brought you to an indescribable high.

You noticed him press a button on the phone at his desk.

“Yes, boss?” his receptionist answered.

With a slow, purposeful motion, he unbuckled his belt, his eyes locked onto you with an intense desire. “Cancel the rest of my meetings for today. I have more urgent matters to attend to.”

You gulped as you realized, the fingers he had in you not too long ago were just a small taste of what he had in store for you.

#love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace #sylus smut #sylus #sylus x mc #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepsace smut #office au #had to get this out of my system

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corroded-hellfire · 2 years ago

Text

As You Wish - Eddie Munson x Reader, Part 8

Collaboration with the Dusty Bun to my Steeb @munson-blurbs 💚

Summary: The unresolved fight between you and Eddie continues as your birthday comes around and he still won't come to celebrate with you and your friends.

Note: I can't believe it's been over a year now since I started writing this series. That feels insane to me. I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Warnings: alcohol, drunkenness, smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, f receiving

Words: 6.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Today should have been perfect.

For one, it’s your birthday, and it coincides with your off day from classes. You got a free coffee from the local café this morning. And your friends are planning a night out at the bar now that you’ve finally reached the legal drinking age.

But it’s not perfect, because you and Eddie still haven’t spoken since your argument. To be honest, you’re not sure if he even wants to fix things.

It’s all you thought about the whole day while you babysat Danny and Amelia Harrington. You force yourself to concentrate on the road as you drive to pick the older kids up from school, the youngest two safely buckled in the car seats.

Ryan and Natalie walk out first, bundled up to fight off the heavy wind and animatedly discussing some intense second-grade gossip. Luke and Theo trail behind, play-fighting until they reach the car.

The sliding doors have barely opened before Luke is climbing into the car and shouting, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

You wince, massaging your ear with your forefinger. “Thanks, little man,” you say, and the rest of the group chimes in with their own cheers.

“I got you a gift!” Luke chirps, something crinkling in his grasp. He hands you a bright blue snack pack of mini Oreos. It’s opened and currently only contains a single cookie.

You smile gratefully, trying not to laugh. “My favorite!” you exclaim, taking the lone Oreo and popping it in your mouth.

Ryan digs into his backpack and takes out a yellow piece of construction paper. “I made you this card,” he says shyly.

It reads, “Happy Birthday to the best babysitter in the world!” Below the printed words, he’s drawn himself, Luke, you, and Eddie. Your heart pangs when you think about that stupid fight, the one where you’d both let your insecurities run wild.

If this is the end of the relationship, how will you break it to the boys?

You don’t have time to ruminate on that before Luke leads everyone, even baby Amelia, into a very off-key rendition of Happy Birthday to You. Even if Amelia can’t speak yet, her melodic mumbling and gurgling only enhanced the performance. They’ve barely taken a breath after the song is finished before Natalie and Theo are asking questions.

“How old are you?”

“Are you gonna have cake?”

“What presents did you get?”

Luke, of course, pipes up with a request of his own:

“Since it’s your birthday, can we get McDonalds? I want a Happy Meal.”

When you get back to the Harrington household—sans McDonald’s to Luke’s disappointment—you situate the two youngest in front of the television and pop Mulan into the VHS player for them. Once you’ve made sure Amelia is securely in her walker and Danny is cuddled up on the couch between his favorite teddy bear and his stuffed rhinoceros, you head into the kitchen to prepare a snack for the older kids.

The four of them seem to be doing alright with their homework as you put one bowl of baby carrots and one bowl of Cheez-It crackers on the table. Unsurprisingly, four small hands grab for the processed orange snack, bypassing the healthier option all together.

For the next hour or so you flit back and forth between the dining room to help with homework and the living room to attend to any toddler needs or upsets. The time passes quicker than you would’ve thought, and you’re surprised when you hear the front door unlocking. You had known Steve and Nancy would be coming home early today to give you a chance to go out and celebrate your birthday, but the hour snuck up on you.

The moment that Amelia hears her parents step into the house, she’s no longer interested in the avalanche that buried the Huns and has the urgent need for her mom to pick her up.

“They weren’t too much trouble, I hope,” Steve says as he reaches up to muss Theo’s hair. The little boy just ignores him as he tries to figure out the math problem he’s been working on for the last five minutes.

“Nah, not too bad,” you say. Trying to contain a smirk, you lean in towards Steve and speak in a loud conspiratorial whisper. “Except…these two,” you say, gesturing to Ryan and Natalie. “Evil masterminds.”

Natalie just hmphs and tosses her light brown hair over her shoulder while Ryan sticks his tongue out at you. With a chuckle, you walk over and press a kiss to the top of the eldest Munson boy’s head.

“I’m gonna get going, okay?” you tell him. The truth is that you definitely have time to spare before you have to start getting ready for the bar tonight, but you want to make sure you’re gone by the time Eddie gets here.

Ryan turns in his seat to look at you and opens his mouth, but before he can speak Eddie enters the house. Your body has had many different reactions to Eddie over the course of you knowing one another, but the one that comes over you now is completely foreign. Heat seems to rise to your cheeks, but it feels like your veins are made of ice and you could snap them beneath your skin if you moved too quickly.

Eddie toes off his chunky black work boots by the front door and does a double take when he sees you standing by Ryan. He gives you a tentative smile and you give a small nod in recognition. Needing to focus on something else, you look back down at Ryan and gently move some of his growing honey colored hair off of his forehead. You can still see Eddie in your periphery though. He’s coming closer towards you, and it feels like every step he takes makes your heart race a little faster.

Once he’s so close that you can’t avoid looking at him, you notice a small pink gift bag in his hands. Eddie’s deep brown eyes are looking down at it too, but you both raise your heads simultaneously and meet each other’s gaze. Pain and longing radiate off the two of you so strongly that even baby Amelia could probably sense it.

“Happy birthday, Sweetheart,” he murmurs, offering you the bag.

Slowly, you reach out to take it, the white tissue paper that sticks out of the top crinkling beneath your fingers. You give Eddie a polite smile and start to leave, but Luke stops you in your tracks.

“You gotta open it!”

A nod is the only response you can give Luke, not trusting your voice—or even knowing what you’d say. Biting your lip, you ruffle through the pristine white tissue paper and pull out a pair of earrings fastened to an earring card. They’re beautiful. Three tiny hearts stacked on top of each other, all purple and connected by silver chain links. The urge to put them on immediately is strong,

“The hearts…one’s for Ryan, one’s for Luke, and one’s for, um, me,” Eddie explains bashfully as he slips his hands into his pockets.

Your eyes fill with tears, a cacophony of emotions in each drop.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, bending down to hug Luke and Ryan. You stand up and face Eddie, feeling the boys’ eyes drilling into you as they wait for you to embrace their dad like you always do.

You lean in and give him a small hug, lingering for an extra moment. He smells of motor oil and sweat, but you can’t get enough. It’s a test of wills to tear yourself away from him. As you pull back, a tight smile forms on your face.

“I should get going,” you tell them kindly.

“Where’re you going?” Luke asks.

You ruffle his hair lovingly. “My friends are having a birthday party for me. But I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Or,” Ryan offers, dragging out the word, “we could treat you to dinner tomorrow.”

Luke grins. “Can we go to McDonalds?”

You can’t help but laugh. The boys bring you more humor and joy than they could possibly imagine.

“You boys are too much sometimes,” you tell them. If you’re being honest, you would love to spend time with them and Eddie, even if it’s just eating fast food. Anywhere with the three of them becomes its own adventure. It breaks your heart knowing there’s still this friction between you and Eddie and you’re not exactly on speaking terms. You can’t dwell on it, though. Not tonight.

When you arrive at the bar, it’s bursting with people. Groups have gathered to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, clinking oversized mugs teeming with foamy beer. It’s much noisier than you’d normally prefer, but you’re glad for the excess sound to drown out your thoughts.

Jess spots you immediately and waves you over to where she, Lily, and Paul are sitting in front of the bartender. As soon as you plop down on a stool, Lily places a sash around you.

“It’s my 21st birthday? Really?”

“Well, it is!” she quips with a laugh. “Besides, people will totally buy you drinks if you wear this.”

She isn’t wrong. You take shot after shot, eventually losing track of the total amount. A tiny voice in your head reminds you not to mix light and dark liquor, but it’s too late for that.

Your friends keep toasting to the ‘birthday girl,’ which prompts more people to cheer and offer to treat you to another round. By the time you get up to dance, your head is spinning.

You sway along to Bon Jovi’s ‘You Give Love a Bad Name’ until you can no longer stand. Jess is kindly letting you lean on her, her arm wrapped around your waist, when you feel a soft tap on your shoulder.

“Can I buy you a drink?” an unfamiliar voice asks, tone laced with sultriness.

You turn around to see a guy about your age, a ten-dollar bill between his pointer and middle fingers.

“Oh, I-I shouldn’t,” you start, but Lily jumps in instead.

“She would love that.” She smiles at him, then whispers in your ear, “the best way to get over Eddie is to get under someone else.” She sticks out her hand to the mystery man and introduces both herself and you. I don’t want to get over Eddie, your brain thinks before drunkenly attempting to focus on what the man in front of you is saying now.

Mystery Man smiles. “I’m Stefon.”

Unbeknownst to you, one Wayne Munson is watching the entire encounter from across the bar. It isn’t his usual digs, but the guys from the plant invited him out for drinks to celebrate the holiday, and he obliged.

He sees you take another drink with trepidation, a young man resting his hand on your hip. It seems like you’re barely aware of what’s going on, sending a queasiness through Wayne’s stomach that definitely isn’t from the alcohol. He’s used to minding his business, but when the guy puts his arm around you, he makes the decision to call Eddie from the payphone.

Just under fifteen minutes later, Eddie is pushing his way into the smoky and boisterous bar, eyes anxiously scanning for you. A surge of relief floods his veins when he sees your beautiful familiar face amongst the sea of green clothing, but the feeling is short-lived when he sees you leaning on a strange man.

It’s hard to tell if you’re aware that you’re leaning on him or not, because you’re talking to Lily animatedly. The man has his eyes glued to you, but he may or may not be on your radar. Your boyfriend isn’t waiting to find out, though. Eddie’s met your friend Paul who you’re out with tonight, so he immediately knows it isn’t him with you and Lily, so he shoves his way through the crowd and shoulders the mystery man out of the way and gently holds your arm to steady you.

“C’mon, let’s go home,” Eddie says, speaking loudly to be heard over the crowd and music. He’s doing his best to be inconspicuous but you’re too drunk for that.

“Eddie!” You fling your arms around him in a hug and let out a loud and giddy laugh. Eddie feels a small surge of pride when you seem to forget all about the guy standing there—if you’d even remembered he was there to begin with. When he looks into your eyes, he can see the glassiness from the alcohol as well as glee that seeing him caused. “Eddie, what’re you doing here? You didn’t wan’ be here!”

He takes a deep breath, inhaling a lung full of secondhand smoke. “You need water and sleep, baby,” he says, trying to be heard over the music.

“But it’s my party!” you whine, giving an exaggerated pout. “An’ you didn’t come ‘cuz you don’t love me.”

His brows shoot up as his heart falls. “I don’t love you?” Obviously, you’re drunk but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

“Nuh-uh.” You scrunch your nose. “Maybe you do, ‘cuz you’re here now.” Your frown quickly flips to a drunken smile. “We should dance! ‘Cuz you love me!”

Eddie tilts his head, giving you a skeptical look. “I thought you said I didn’t.”

“But you came here to see me, so you do,” you explain as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. The fact that you’re swaying where you stand doesn’t help your credibility though.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie can see the man you were leaning on finally slink away. Apparently, he only needed to hear the confirmation that Eddie does indeed love you.

“Let me take you home, princess,” Eddie says, doing his best to keep the irritation out of his tone.

“That sounds like a line,” you say with a giggle that’s interrupted by a hiccup.

“It’s probably the most chivalrous thing anyone’s said to you tonight,” Eddie says, looking around at the other men in the bar like they’re vultures, ready to step in and claim you for their own. “Come on, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” you lament with an over dramatic sigh. “But just cause you’re so cute.” You giggle again as you lean against Eddie.

At least she’s leaning against me now, he thinks bitterly. Too exasperated for more words, Eddie just presses a kiss to the top of your head and laces his fingers with yours—tightly, so he won’t lose you in the crowded bar.

Eddie catches Jess’s eye where she’s leaning against the bar and nods towards the door, letting her know that he’s taking you home. She nods in return and gives a thumbs up. Eddie scans the crowd to see if he can spot his uncle, but there’s just too many people.

“Hey, you’re not wearin’ green,” you say once you’re outside in the cool night air. The air feels fresh yet too silent after being in that stuffy place.

“Hmm?” Eddie hums as he helps you into the passenger’s seat.

“No green! Is St. Pagrick Day though!”

“Your birthday is a far more important holiday,” he says as he closes the door for you. He doesn’t even consider if you heard the words or not, it was his inner monologue just coming out.

The drive back to the apartment starts off with you chattering on, still feeling good from the drinks.

“It’s so cute that the boys wanna buy me MiDonal’s! They’re the sweetest boys ever. Where are we goin’? Oh, hey! You’re movin’ into your new aparment soon. Do you still wan’ me to—hey look, a dog!—wan’ me to go shopping for the stuff that you need? Eddie? Are you still mad at me? I hope not. I don’t like when we fight. I never wanna fight witchu. I love you! I never loved no one before, ya know. Just you! I was only bein’ such a pain in the butt because I wanna be by your side. Like partners. Wanna help you and have fun with you and do all the things with you. I hope you wanna be that with me too! Like Bonnie and Clyde! But no stealing or dying. Do you, hey, hey Eddie, do you remember that time a long time ago you said you liked that blue shirt I wore? Ya know, the one with the buttons and sleeves? Well, now it’s my favorite—”

Eddie glances over, concerned that your speech—that was highly amusing to him—stopped so abruptly. You’re just looking up at the streetlights as they pass, your eyes getting heavier by the second, the mesmerizing sight lulling you to sleep.

Eddie chuckles to himself and the rest of the drive is quiet.

When you finally arrive back at the apartment, you’re practically comatose in the passenger seat. Eddie half carries you up the stairs and holds you close to his side with one arm while he unlocks the door with the other.

Somehow, he manages to get you laying down on your bed without bumping into anything on the way. You look up at him with a sleepy smile that Eddie swears is the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“I’m gonna help you change, okay? I don’t think that dress will be comfortable to sleep in.”

You nod absentmindedly as Eddie grabs a pair of your pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt. Eddie is an expert at undressing you by now but it’s harder when your body can’t even hold itself up. The green dress gets stuck on your nose as Eddie pulls it off over your head and it makes you giggle, though it’s much softer than your laughter in the car. He slips your pink plaid pajama bottoms over your white lace panties and chuckles to himself as he sees he pulled a Rugrats t-shirt out of your drawer. An amused smile grows on his face as he shakes his head.

“Better?” he asks.

A big yawn accompanies the nod that you give him. Satisfied that you’re not going to fall over if he lets go, Eddie walks towards the head of the bed so he can pull your blankets down. It takes both of you working together to get you beneath the blankets.

Once you’re settled, Eddie shucks himself out of his jeans and t-shirt and climbs in bed next to you. Without any hesitation, you scoot over and rest your head on his chest. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and presses a kiss to your head.

Eddie isn't sure if in the morning, once you’ve sobered up, you’ll still be fighting or not. He doesn’t want to be, but he also knows the issues haven’t been resolved between the two of you. What you said tonight about Eddie not loving you definitely has to be addressed tomorrow—whether you were drunk or not when you said it, he doesn’t care.

Soft snores begin to fill your room and Eddie smiles to himself. His eyes slip closed, and he holds you a little tighter against his body.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he says into the darkness.

You wake up the next morning with a dull headache. It definitely could be worse, especially considering how much you’d drank last night.

There’s two Tylenol and a bottle of water on your nightstand, none of which you remember putting there…

You shift positions and see Eddie curled up on the pillow next to you, wearing just his boxers. Soft snores punctuate the rise and fall of his chest.

“Eddie?” you whisper, eyes wide.

He stirs and stretches, giving you a small smile.

“Morning, baby.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “How’re you feeling?”

“Um, just a headache. Not too much of a hangover.” You’re working to figure out exactly why he’s here.

He grins. “Must be nice to be 21,” he jokes. “I have one beer too many and I’m out of commission for a week.”

You’re too focused on the maybe-boyfriend-shaped elephant in the room to laugh at his joke. Instead, you take a deep breath and muster up all of your courage.

“Did we, um…”

Eddie pulls back. “No. Nope!” He shakes his head. “I brought you home and we fell asleep. I promise.”

You nod, relief flooding your body. “Okay. Okay, good.” You swing your legs over the side of the bed. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“I’ll make some breakfast, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

You get out of bed and stretch your muscles before heading towards the door. But first you stop and look back at Eddie. “I didn’t do anything stupid last night, did I?”

“No,” Eddie assures you. “Your knight in shining leather got there before anything could happen.” He flexes his muscles dramatically, which causes you to chuckle as you step out of your room and into the bathroom.

Eddie puts his clothes from yesterday back on and heads out to the kitchen. He makes pancakes, and you come out of your room freshly showered and dressed just as they’re ready.

“Smells good,” you say, rubbing at your eye. The shower helped wake you up, but your body is still tired from last night.

You and Eddie sit down across from one another and start eating in silence before you can’t take it anymore.

“Um, where are the boys?” you ask, desperate for some semblance of an interaction.

“Harrington’s,” Eddie answers before shoving a mouthful of syrup-covered pancake into his mouth. “Steve and Nance said they got them, I should go to you.”

“And, uh, why did you show up? I mean, did you change your mind about celebrating with us or..?”

Eddie sighs and shakes his head. “Wayne was, um, actually at the bar last night with some guys from his work. He saw some assholes starting to get handsy with you, so he called me.”

“Oh.” You stay quiet as you move a few pieces of pancake around on your plate.

You had hoped Eddie had changed his mind and wanted to spend your birthday night with you after all, but he was only there because his uncle called him.

Eddie bites his lower lip, hating the tension in the air. The two of you used to sit in comfortable silences with one another, so this is excruciating.

“Look, sweetheart,” Eddie says before pausing to clear his throat. “It’s not that I didn’t want to spend time with you. Because I did. I do. I always do. I just, I don’t know, thought I’d bring the party down. I didn’t want you to feel like I was supervision or some shit like that. And I wasn’t sure how I’d meld in with your friends.”

“Eddie,” you start before taking a deep breath. “I never think of you as some authority type figure. You’re just Eddie. Like, yeah, maybe you’re twelve years older than me, but I don’t really feel like there’s this chasm between us or anything. Do…do you?”

Eddie’s silent for a moment, making sure he picks his words carefully so as not to give you a wrong impression. “When it’s you and me? No. When it’s us and the boys? No. But when it comes to you hanging out with your friends, I guess I feel, I don’t know, like I don’t belong.”

“Belong where?”

He sighs and twirls one of his rings around his finger as a nervous twitch. “When I see your friends it’s this reminder that I’m not your age. It feels like all the shit that I try not to let bother me is unavoidable as I see you with guys it would be more socially acceptable for you to date. Or seeing your girl friends going off to do things with their boyfriends that I can’t because of my job and kids. It makes me feel selfish.” His eyes mist over for a second. “Like I’m keeping you from that.”

“Eddie, no one is keeping me from anything. Especially you. You act like I don’t have a choice or say in this. I’m pretty sure you didn’t kidnap me and rope me into an arranged marriage or something.” You give a small smile, hoping to ease some of the frustration radiating off of him. “I don’t want someone my age. I don’t want someone younger. I don’t want someone older that isn’t you.”

“I know that,” Eddie says. “I swear, I do. I guess I’ve had a number done on me, though. Got beaten down enough that the insecurity comes second nature. It’s not your fault, you shouldn’t have to pay for things that she did.”

“Can I beat her?”

He chuckles and seeing him smile makes a genuine one grow on your own face.

“She’s not worth it,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “But I see where you were coming from with being upset. It probably did seem like I just didn’t want to go out with you and your friends. I’m sorry. I also get where you’re coming from with the court stuff. Wanting to be by my side. Princess, you have no idea how much that means to me. Honestly. I just…I don’t want you to have to be in the middle of all of that.”

“I know,” you say, lowering your eyes back down to your plate. “I’m sorry, too. I was overstepping when it came to Brittany. That’s your ordeal, you get to call the shots when it comes to that. I only want you to know that you have my support. In whatever way you need it.”

He reaches across the table and slips his hand into yours. “I promise to tell you in what ways I’ll need your support through this whole thing.”

You nod and give his hand a small squeeze. The air around you feels lighter and it’s as if weights have been lifted off your shoulders.

“Are—Are we okay?” you ask, wanting to clarify.

“We’re more than okay,” he reassures you as he returns your hand squeeze with one of his own. “But there is something else we need to talk about.”

“Sure. What?”

He sighs and gently taps your entwined hands against the tabletop. “Last night…when I got to the bar to pick you up, you, um, you said something. I know you were drunk but it still hurt.”

Immediately you feel mortified. Did I really…?

“I thought you said I didn’t do anything stupid?”

“Well, this was saying something stupid.”

How bad was it that it’s making him stall like this? “What did I say?” You wince, afraid to hear what you might’ve said in your inebriated state.

“You, uh, you said that I didn’t love you. That I didn’t come to the bar with you and your friends because I don’t love you.”

Your eyes are immediately flooded with tears. The heartbreak and shame you feel for uttering something so absurd cuts you deeply, and you push yourself out of your chair and walk around the table to Eddie. He scoots back so you can perch yourself in his lap.

Gently, you cup Eddie’s face in your hands and stare into his eyes. “I love you. I love you, I love you. Please always remember that. Sober, drunk, high, or otherwise in an altered state…I love you. I am so sorry I said that to you. It amazes me that somehow you love me, but that doesn’t mean I doubt it for a second.”

Eddie nods and wraps his arms around your waist. Your shirt rides up a little and his syrupy fingers rub against your skin—but you couldn’t care less.

“You’re mine,” you tell him. “I’m yours. Simple as that.”

“Simple as that,” Eddie agrees.

The two of you sit there together for a few silent minutes before Jess’s door creaks open and she shuffles into the kitchen, looking far worse than you felt when you woke up. She gives a half-hearted wave, as if even that small movement was too much for her.

Eddie smiles and nods his head towards the kitchen counter. “I made a stack of pancakes for you,” he says.

Jess heads towards the counter but pauses to put a hand on your shoulder. “If you don’t marry him, I will,” she vows.

Deciding to play hooky from school and work didn’t take much convincing for you or Eddie. You’re not feeling great, and he’s more than happy to take care of you.

You’re washing the breakfast dishes while Eddie stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. “Y’know,” he murmurs just under your ear, “I had another birthday surprise up my sleeve.”

He pulls you closer, and you try—and fail—to focus on the task at hand. “And what’s that?”

He smirks and presses soft kisses into your neck. “Well, I bought a bottle of champagne,” he says, “and I figured we could have some drunk sex?”

You snap off the water and dry your hands, spinning to face him. “And where is this bottle of champagne, handsome?”

Eddie blushes slightly. “Um, at the Harringtons’ place,” he admits. “But we could still do the sex part, if you’re feeling up to it.”

You press your body to his, grinning widely. “Bedroom?”

“Hell yes.”

Clothes are shed instantly, leaving a trail that leads to your room. You lay back on the bed and Eddie climbs on top of you, slotting his leg between yours and kissing you softly.

“Let me take care of my birthday girl, hm?” he coos, nibbling on your ear. He chuckles when you whimper, two of his thick fingers trailing downward towards your pussy. “Oh, you poor thing. Needy already?”

“Mhm.”

He grins, scooting back and pressing his lips just above your clit. His tongue grazes your folds, over the sensitive bud, and he sucks on it gently. You moan when he positions your legs on his shoulders. “Keep making those noises, baby.”

You eagerly oblige, whining as he slips his middle finger into your pussy, tongue remaining trained on your clit. The overstimulation has you grinding against his face, desperate to get some relief.

He wraps his free hand around your thigh and squeezes it, bringing himself even closer into you. Muffled, barely audible fucks and tastes goods escape his lips, driving you even wilder.

“E-Eddie, I’m gonna cum!” you mewl, fingers digging into the bed sheets. He continues lapping at your cunt until you’re screaming his name.

Eddie pulls back, face shiny with your slick. “Need you,” he growls, and his painfully hard cock bobs in agreement.

He crawls up your body, pressing kisses to your soft flesh as he makes his way towards your neck. Teeth gently graze the side of your throat, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

Taking advantage of your legs spread openly before him, Eddie settles himself between them and lines his cock up with your soaking entrance. It feels like it takes an eternity until he finally bottoms out, making you feel so full and revel in that exquisite stretch.

Sweat breaks out along your hairline and it melds with Eddie’s as he rests his forehead against yours. The bed beneath you shakes as your body rocks with your boyfriend’s. A slight tilt of his hips has your hands scrambling against the lilac sheet below you, desperate to hold on to something—anything. Eddie wants you to hold on to him, though. His pale toned arms seek out your own until he slips his hands into yours and threads your fingers together. Never breaking eye contact even for a second, Eddie holds your hands up above your head, staring down at you with a blissful expression on his face. He’s not smiling, but there’s a light in his eyes and the way his lips part just slightly only adds to your enjoyment.

“I love you, sweet girl,” Eddie says, voice low and husky in the small space you’re both occupying. “Don’t ever forget that.”

“L-Love you, too, Eds.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he says as his hips roll up against yours. “You have the cutest nose. I hope any kids we have inherit that from you.”

With every thrust of Eddie’s hips, he lists another thing he loves about you.

“Your lips are so soft. Sometimes I get torn between kissing them or staring at them. And your laugh? God, you have no idea what that does to me. It’s so infectious and bubbly and completely genuine. One of the best sounds in the world.”

There’s nothing else in the world right now other than Eddie’s voice and Eddie’s body. All that exists is the two of you, staring into one another’s eyes as pleasurable groans and whimpers fall from your lips. Sweet sighs and shared breath connect you both, adding to the already dizzying intimacy. You stare up into those large brown eyes and for that moment everything is perfect in the world. The moment belongs to you, and nothing will ever take it from you.

Eddie leans in to press a soft, slow kiss to your lips. He pulls away only far enough for you to fix your gazes on one another’s eyes again. His hip thrusts are becoming increasingly erratic, a sign that he’s nearing his finish.

Curls sway back and forth around his face, like a curtain keeping you two separated from everything else.

More than anything, you know what’s going to have you reaching your high is the locked stares you share. Eddie looks so intently into your eyes, as if he’ll find answers to all of his problems in them. It’s sexier than any words either of you could possibly vocalize. The look says so much more than your voices ever could.

“I’m close,” you tell him in a rough whisper. Your fingers tighten on his and Eddie’s hips rock slightly harder into yours.

“Me too, baby.”

The urge to close your eyes floats over you as your impending orgasm gets closer by the second, but you refuse. Even blinking is too long to look away from the eyes of the man you love. Eddie agrees, never taking those brown beauties off of you as he feels his release closing in.

“Eddie,” you whimper, more just needing to say his name than anything else. “Oh, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.”

“I know, my love.”

“Gonna cum, Eds,” you slur.

“With me, yeah baby?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out more than speak.

All it takes is two more thrusts before Eddie’s spilling into you. Him coating your walls with his release is enough to have you falling headfirst into your euphoria as well.

Both of you ride it out together, trying to squeeze every last drop of enjoyment out of it that you could from one another. By the lazy smiles you give one another as you try and catch your breaths, you’d say that you both enjoyed it very much.

Eddie leans down and presses a sweet but sensuous kiss to your lips before begrudgingly pulling out of you. Neither of you like it, so you’re quick to cuddle up to one another, desperate to have your arms wrapped around the warm skin of his middle.

“That was…wow,” you say after a few minutes of companionable silence.

“Very wow,” Eddie agrees, rubbing his hand up and down your arm. “Y’know, there’s something else I’d like to add to that list, now that I have blood flowing to my brain.”

“Yeah?”

“Your heart,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Just when I think it can’t get any bigger or warmer, you prove me wrong time and time again. The kindness and generosity that you have is something I’ve never seen in another person. You’re so amazingly you and I’ve been enchanted by it since the day I met you. Sometimes I feel like this is all a fairytale except the prince is the one constantly swept off his feet.”

“The princess is too,” you assure him through increasingly labored breath. “Very, very swept.”

Letting your suddenly heavy eyes slip closed, you tuck your head beneath Eddie’s chin and revel in his touch. A nap with you in his arms sounds like heaven right now, but Eddie knows there’s something he has to say before he forgets.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?” Your sleepy voice brings a smile to his face.

“Luke asked me to bring over McDonalds.”

“C’mon, let’s go hit the drive-thru.”

You move to get up, but Eddie keeps you right where you are.

“Not yet. Naps first. Food for gremlins later.”

You chuckle and press a kiss to his bare chest.

“Naps first,” you agree.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson imagine #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS

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astroxrion · 5 months ago

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Music Astrology

The kind of music you should make based on where your Neptune is in astrology—

1st House: Dreamy, otherworldly music with an ethereal or hypnotic quality. Your sound is deeply personal and mystical, often blending genres. You’ll embody your music fully, creating an immersive experience that feels like stepping into a dream or fantasy.

2nd House: Music that evokes beauty, sensuality, and material longing. Your sound might have lush instrumentation and a luxurious, flowing feel. Your lyrics explore self worth and finances or what is truly valuable beyond material wealth, with a soft, melodic, and emotional touch.

3rd House: A poetic and fluid lyrical style that brings surreal storytelling and abstract ideas into your music. You need to experiment with spoken word, unusual rhythms and layered vocals. These vibes create an almost hypnotic, trance vibe that makes listeners feel like they’re in a dream,your dream.

4th House: Nostalgic, sentimental music that taps into deep rooted emotions and memories. Your sound feels like home, just warm, melancholic, and comforting. Often explores themes of family, childhood, and longing for a place that may not exist, with soft, atmospheric production.

5th House: Expressive, theatrical, and romantic music that feels larger than life. Your sound is artistic and inspired, evoking magic, fantasy, and love. You might blend cinematic elements into your compositions, making each song feel like an emotional journey or dramatic performance.

6th House: Music that is healing, meditative, and spiritually cleansing. Your sound may focus on ambient textures, soft harmonies, and repetitive, soothing rhythms. Lyrics could explore themes like sacrifice, service, and finding divine meaning in the mundane, with a gentle, floating quality.

7th House: Deeply romantic, emotionally immersive music with a focus on connection, love, and longing. Your sound may be dreamy and reflective, often mirroring the emotions of their audience. You’ll excel at duets, collaborations, and music that captures the push&pull of relationships.

8th House: Dark, mysterious, and emotionally intense music that dives into taboo themes like transformation, death, and rebirth. Your sound may be haunting and hypnotic, blending sensuality with mysticism. Often creates music that evokes strong emotions and feels deeply cathartic.

9th House: Expansive, spiritual, and philosophical music that transports listeners to other realms. Your sound may incorporate world influences, gospel like reverence, or cosmic, transcendent elements. Your lyrics explore enlightenment, escapism, or a quest for truth, with a wandering, adventurous feel.

10th House: Iconic, visionary music with a strong, almost mythical presence. Your sound influences entire movements, blending timelessness with mysticism. Lyrics could explore themes of destiny, fame, and higher purpose, making you feel like a spiritual guide through your music.

11th House: Futuristic music with a dreamlike, utopian quality. You experiment with soundscapes, electronic textures, and unconventional structures. Lyrics may focus on collective consciousness, dreams of a better world, or cosmic awareness, making your music feel ahead of its time.

12th House: Haunting, deeply emotional, and transcendent music that feels like it comes from another realm. Your sound may have an ethereal, ambient, or ghostly quality, often touching on themes of isolation, spirituality, and longing for something beyond reality—music that dissolves boundaries.

#neptune in pisces #astrology #astronomy #numerology #spirituality #twin flames #spiritual awakening #spiritual growth #spiritual healing #spiritual journey #intrusive thoughts #spiritual awareness #spiritual warfare #spiritual life #planets #astrology love

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tanoraqui · 1 year ago

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Eldamar!Buzzfeed’s Top 5 Maglor Fëanorion Songs

9/26/422 Fo.A

[read on AO3]

The votes are in and the people have spoken! Thanks to our poll last week, Elf!Buzzfeed is excited to present our and your Top 5 Maglor Fëanorion compositions, with commentary from experts—including the infamous Singer himself!

5. First Age Northern Beleriandrin Songs of Warding and Warning

After the sheer number and variety of write-ins, we decided to credit Maglor with the whole genre of Songs of Warding and Warning of Siege-Era Northern Beleriand. Top write-ins included “Campfire Warding Song”, “Wind in the Grass” and “Song of the Gap.”

Expert Opinions:

Eglatarwen Lindambar, a Court Minstrel of Üdoriath: This is an insult to Queen Melian. The Noldor did naught but modify and build upon pre-existing Songs, and all or nearly all the popular Songs of Warding in Beleriand were taught or inspired by Melian, even before she created the Great Girdle. I will concede their effectiveness—against most things pettier than dragons, at least—but to credit him with the genre? So much for journalistic neutrality.

Timpenindë Cuilemë, preeminent bard among the Noldor: Oh, I don’t know if I’m qualified for this one—I was only in Beleriand for a few decades for the War. But I did recognize Maglor’s work when I found it, and we found it in quite a few places. I think he deserves more credit for the endurance of Himring, actually—I saw that immediately. It may be Maedhros’s will sunk deep into those stones, so deep that neither Morgoth not Ulmo could wear them down. But it’s Maglor’s classic Songs, all love and faith and bloody-minded stubbornness, that served as the final mortar.

Maglor: I’m flattered, but I really don’t think I should be taking credit for this. I did compose my first warding-Song entirely organically, to keep annoying younger brothers out of my bedroom. But everything— almost everything in the First Age was collaborative. “Campfire Warding Song” is ancient—I learned it in my youth from my father, who learned it from his, who Sang it in Cuivienen and during the Great Journey. All I did was modify it to be more attuned to the enemies we faced later, as orcs and such were new and rare for our forefathers. “Song of the Gap” is a call-and-response with constant improvisation—I did compose the basic melody and rhythm, but it varies every time it’s Sung! Likewise “Wind in the Grass”, “Lullaby for Foes”, “Tread Thee Not (or Suffer our Wrath Resplendent)”…I’m not saying we didn’t compose some good Music, but it was all very collaborative!

4. Noldolantë (Full)

The complete story of the Fall of the Noldor: the prologue of Finwë’s first visit to Aman, then the tragedy of Miriel, the division of the Noldor and the slaughter of Finwë, the Oath, the First Kinslaying, the Burning of the Ships, the Siege, the Breaking of the Siege, the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the Falls of Gondolin and Nargothrond, the Second Kinslaying, the Third Kinslaying, the War of Wrath and final theft of the Silmarils, the suicide of Maedhros and the lone Singer himself wandering remorseful forevermore; with a postscript for the forging of the One Ring, the deaths of Celebrimbor and Gil-Galad, and the Fall of Númenor. It isn’t pure grief—there are bright spots in the Rescue of Maedhros, the Tale of Beren and Lúthien (borrowing melodically and lyrically from the Lay of Leithien), the rise of Gil-Estel. However, its wide range of tragedies is famously able to reduce even the stoniest heart to tears at least once.

Composed in pieces mostly over the course of the First Age, and refined into a single piece over the course of the Second and Third Ages, as the singer wandered alone and repentant on the shores of mortal Arda. Takes six and a half days to sing all the way through, unstopping.

Expert Opinions:

Timpenindë: This is not Maglor’s best work. I don’t even think it’s his fourth-best work, honestly. It is impressive that he maintains the intensity of emotion throughout—deftly waxing and waning, but mostly waxing—and maybe only Maglor could do that for six and a half straight days! But even if it's strong throughout, the whole 'throughout' is just...too much. Even a powerful Singer has to half-kill themselves to perform this, and it's not much more gentle on the audience. Admittedly, I'm not sure what he could possibly cut, but... It is what it is, but it's just not his best work. Also, the lyrics could use work—more poetry in a couple places, less in others, and I know the faltering meter and rhyme represents his descent into madness but... Well, it suffers from the fact that he was genuinely descending into madness.

Finrod Felagund, High Prince of the Noldor, etc etc: I think this might be ranking so high based on name recognition, honestly. I usually start crying within the first hour, and don't stop... But laced through all my grief for...everything...is the question: if Maglor could produce this sustained tidal wave of craft and raw emotion while wandering lost for 6,000 years, what could he have done if he'd been found instead? It makes me dream wistfully of what greater, kinder marvels he could have wrought... Which only ties into the themes of the song, of course—what could the Noldor have been, if we hadn't gone down the roads we did? What could Arda have been? So, all the more credit to the composer for so thoroughly manifesting this masterpiece!

Maglor: I believe this piece speaks for itself, and for myself.

3. Noldolantë (Original/Standard)

Written in the style of a traditional Noldorin history-song, the original Noldolantë is an accounting of the events of the Darkening through the death of Fëanor, with references at the end to early First Age events including the Rescue of Maedhros and the Dagor Aglareb. Focus is primarily on the Kinslaying at Alqualondë, and secondarily on the Burning of the Ships. Though Maglor originally composed it in Quenya during his brief reign as King of the Noldor and added events throughout the First Age (see: "4. Noldolantë (Full)", this translation into Sindarin, first performed publicly in 68 FA, is the version that was widespread and popular throughout First Age Beleriand and thereafter, and remains most identifiable as "Noldolantë."

Major themes include loss of life and loss of innocence; grief, regret and repentance over the same; and determination to take all this hurt, and all the hurt in Arda, and throw it back at the Enemy tenfold, with sword, Song and fire. Takes about four hours to sing in full, though individual sections were often excerpted as marching chants or battle hymns.

Expert Opinions:

Eglatarwen: The Noldolantë is an undeniably impressive work of technical song-craft, engaging and well-paced narrative, heart-wrenching passion...and propaganda. To not treat it as propaganda would be to do it a disservice, because it's also a very impressive work of propaganda! It takes betrayal and atrocity and turns it into...not 'necessity', to be fair, and nor does it shirk the fault of the Noldor—though it certainly blames Morgoth as well. But it takes the irredeemable and almost inexorably turns it redeemable. Horrors and darkness which can and will be moved on from. Terrible mistakes which can and will be learned from. If only that had been true.

Eärwen Olwiel, Princess of the Teleri, High Queen-Consort of the Noldor: Surprisingly factual and earnestly apologetic, I think, for all its spin.

Finrod: I still hum it sometimes. I still hum parts about Alqualondë sometimes. I hate how good at this he is.

Maglor: Of course it's propaganda. It was propaganda just for me, first, when I needed to make some reassuring sense of everything or I would shatter like a wedding glass. Then I sang it to buck up my people, not least my younger brothers, and keep us going through some of the worst years of my life. Then word came of Thingol's Ban and we needed a response of equal—though not directly contradictory, you'll note!—social impact—and, appropriately, I had this piece that only really needed to be translated into Sindarin in order to serve. Though of course I did need to rewrite every single word and note in subtle, crafty ways to accommodate the new language, and sometimes in very obvious ways. I still miss the original recursive arpeggios... Shoutout to Glauriel of the Plains for thrice saving my life: once from an orc arrow, once from dragonfire, and once for not killing me herself when I recruited her to help me with the translations, said I only needed a quick Sindarin-native judgement on a few scattered verses, and then made her help me rewrite the first bridge alone six times in six days.

2. “The Song That Never Ends”

Infamously annoying short tune which loops both lyrically and melodically, sung most often by children. Composed pre-Darkening. No true potency save, it is rumored, as a means of tormenting enemy prisoners.

Expert Opinions:

Eglatarwen: This song is a malicious attack.

Timpenindë: This is in second place? Stars, I can't believe I was ever engaged to that elf.

Finrod: [staring into the unseen distance as one haunted by memories of torment] The Edain learned this, somehow. The thing about the children of Men, you know, is that they're only children for a very short amount of time relative to us... But there are always more of them...

Maglor: I genuinely regret this one. I’m not sure I even remember why I wrote it. I think to annoy my parents, or maybe Nelyo—hey, Nelyo! [to his brother, passing by] Do you remember when or why I came up with that annoying looping song?

Maedhros Fëanorion: [upon further explanation of the question and context] This is in second place? [to Maglor] I should've killed you when I had the chance. When I still did things like that. [upon being told Finrod's comment on the song] 'Mannish children'? Ha! You can give those back to their parents, not like siblings—of which he only had four, I’ll note, and none of them composed this monstrosity. And speaking of Man-ish children, whom you can’t give back to their parents, he should try righteously vengeful, maliciously compliant teenage—

[He cut off as our host, Elrond Peredhel, walked in, whistling a few idle, familiar notes before offering everyone another round of tea. Maglor and Maedhros both winced, though they said nothing save to accept tea.]

1. Ardamirë

Unofficial subtitle: (Father) It's Not Only Ours Anymore

An ode to Gil-Estel—the jewel, the Light, the ship and captain, the Star. Elements composed and gathered over nearly 6,500 years of wandering on mortal shores, including elements of the Noldolantë; arranged into a complete song in the decades after Maglor’s return to Valinor at the start of the Fourth Age. Takes about three hours to sing in full, reducing most listeners to mostly-joyful tears.

Expert Opinions:

Maglor: Good choice, people—this one is the best.

Fëanor Curufinwë, Crafter of the Silmarils: I won't pretend to be as expert in musical composition as my son, in Songs of Power or simply in casual music-craft. However, I'm certain this isn't his best work, technically speaking. Did truly so few people vote for "The Great Journey” or “On the Slopes of Túna"? [shaking his head] The wisdom of the Eldar truly has been diluted... And surely the recency of this composition biases voters in its favor. Are you certain you've balanced your data properly? …But the song is persuasive. And sticks in one's head very effectively. I've been thinking about it.

#maglor #the silmarillion #my fic #ficlet #feanor and feanor’s kin #aman ever after #[soft launches my OC maglor’s (ex-)fiancée]

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