#I'm so proud of myself for understanding your metaphor i can rest in peace

[pixie05love]

MICHI WAS IN LOVE WITH HIM AAJSJSJZIjwhaigqjaushwusb*!<!&+>@*@*(

MICHI AAAAAAAAA HE LOVED GETO FUCK I WANT TO DIE HE WILL NEVER GET TO HAVE GETO (I mean I understand Gojo and Geto you know, they love eachother and stuff) BUT STILL I WNAT MICHI TO BE LOVED BACKKKKKDHSISJ@&>!&×&@%×>×:@&#*&#

Helloooo I finished the first part of your jjk fic!!

I FLIPPING LOVED IT FUCK I MUST READ THE OTHER PARTS DAYUM I CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF THIS

First of all, thank goodness Michi didn't die at the end of this first part (God bless Geto for this, man. I was tempted to stop reading if Michi died bruh😭)

I love a lot Michi, and for me, he's part of the jjk cast (at least in my heart idc😔🤟). He fits perfectly in its world. His backstory, the themes he brought to the plot, how much you can get from him when you compare him with either Gojo or Geto.

I just know you love your oc for the way you wrote him, links. You crafted his character with a lot of care, and there's nothing more beautiful to me, as a reader, than an author pouring all their love and passion to their characters and story (Wether it's fanfic or not this level of care on your writing speaks volumes about you as a writer! Keep writing. There are people who appreciate it a lot :D)

All the metaphors meticulously placed to subtly hint you what you wanted to portray for each character and also as a way for foreshadowing. I just love that level of care in media. It makes you want to reread it again and make sure you didn't let any detail slip on you first read.

From chap. 5 what I liked the most, aside from the convo between Gojo and Utahime, which showed Gojo's more sensitive side with that touch of sarcasm so you don't take him as seriously because hey, he's still Gojo The Strongest!

Geto and Michi had a very insightful convo. They are almost parallels, but they differ on one aspect you already explained to me in another ask I sent you:

Michi confronted Geto. Right in front of his face. The world had already warned Geto with Riko's death in the hands of a mere "monkey."

Someone sensitive, like Geto, would not survive in the world of Jujutsu. You can not save everyone when not even your life holds any value to the ones on top in charge of protecting you.

Toji showed him that. Work is work. It doesn't matter whether you have strength and honest reasons to save people. You could still die at the hands of the same ones you risk your life to protect, and the world would still spin.

That broke Geto and eventually caused his breakup with Gojo because Geto realised that he was weak. That he did care. He never forgot Riko like Gojo. He felt guilty for letting his feelings overwhelm him and ruin his relationship with Gojo. He started to understand that compassion and empathy were a weakness. Those feelings were the reason he got so careless. It was his fault that Riko died:

Geto is a very tragic character. He can't help but feel everything. Feel for everyone. If he notices, he'll make time to listen to you and ease your pain as much as possible even if that means sacrificing himself for you... and Michi noticed that because they were similar. Michi found Geto as precious as Geto found Riko as such:

This part of chap.5 made me wonder if Michi could have caught feelings for Geto (maybe one-sided). Since their first interactions, I always thought they could have had something if the circumstances were different and, well... if Gojo wasn't there intervening lol.

(Maybe it's just me that I want them to be together. I know well that Geto and Gojo were made for eachother :)

Michi, despite his jealousy towards Gojo, he cared for both in his own way. I feel like what Michi was trying to with this whole plan (what a plot wist btw I gasped when I read it) aside from getting rid of Gojo he tried to "spare" Geto from his deplorable mental state by making him accept the reality of their line of work (like a twisted act of love?👀) but chose not to just like Gojo chose to avoid getting any closer to Geto once he realised that he was weaker than him to protect him.

Geto is too precious to be corrupted by any of them, so Michi couldn't bring himself to "steal" Geto from Gojo and "enlighten" him with the harsh reality of being in the Jujutsu world.

If someone had to change, it was Geto himself by his own will and... so he did on chap.7 when he was once again reminded of how little their lives meant if they weren't as strong as Gojo.

After Gojo vs. Michi's fight, Michi is left defeated on the ground without his eyes. He asks for a last request: to be killed by Geto instead of Gojo.

I think it was a very smart decision to pick Geto instead of Gojo to do the job. Gojo would have killed Michi in less than seconds. Gojo didn't care about a weaklings' life who were just on his way.

Forgetting the dead ones is a necessity. A self-defense mechanism to keep them attached to their jobs more efficiently.

Sorcerers were meant to sacrifice their humanity to safe people, and once they die, they're ready to be forgotten and replaced by other sorcerers. It was a cycle.

Their lives are cheap, just like the lives of the prostitutes Michi was so defensive with.

Those women were doing their job, just like Gojo, Geto, and Michi, but they could die in the hands of anyone any day and then... the blame would fall on them for being "weak, because "they were looking for it when they got in the industry. " Lastly, they'd be forgotten and replaced with other prostitutes.

How different were those prostitutes from Gojo and the rest of the sorcerers? Risking their bodies for the sake of someone else's pleasure (the higher ups), accepting being dehumanised for a salary... They're not really that different, are they?

(I fear that was peak literature, links🫡)

Geto didn't kill Michi because he knew that Gojo could have killed both of them if he wanted... and he wouldn't have cared after doing so because he was programmed like that. He programmed himself like that to function in such a world.

At that moment, Gojo embodied the Jujutsu world's philosophy, and Geto knew that. Geto realised, once again, that he was weak compared to him. He was just one of those prostitutes, like Michi. Geto was, unlike Gojo, too weak to kill Michi.

Another detail that could be coincidence:

"Why does the story begin with the prostitute dying?"

That's funny (not really). At the beginning of jjk, the original story, first season, Geto, had already died by that time we just didn't know yet...

Thank you for this amazing first part of your fic links. I'll soon read the rest parts too. Idk if I'll be able to keep doing this asks all the time due to college, but I may send you an ask gushing about your writing from time to time! :p

Again ty for answering me and sorry again for bombarding you with this kind of yap sessions lmao

I hope you're doing well!💞

(Michi's official design just for you. He 's 29 in this not 18, he grew up from a Twink into a Mommy).

First of all, thank goodness Michi didn't die at the end of this first part (God bless Geto for this, man. I was tempted to stop reading if Michi died bruh😭) I love a lot Michi, and for me, he's part of the jjk cast (at least in my heart idc😔🤟). He fits perfectly in its world. His backstory, the themes he brought to the plot, how much you can get from him when you compare him with either Gojo or Geto.

Michi is baiscally immortal. In the sense that his entire story revolves around the fact that prostitutes are treated like they're completely expendable by both our society, and also most of fiction. Michi the son of a prostitute and another victim of sexual abuse stubbornly refuses to die, because in this version his little life in worth something.

I'm glad you liked him. Michi is basically someone I created to characterize Gojo, by one being a narrator observing Gojo from the outside, but two being an unreliable narrator to illustrate that there's really no understanding Gojo the best you get as a reader is Michi's interpretation of Gojo which is heavily biased and flawed because of Michi's own projections and jealousies towards him.

However, Michi just kind of became a character of his own and left the role of Narrator. That's why I don't describe what Michi looks like at all until his conversation with Geto where he sees his reflection, like oh yeah, he's a person with a face. He has an identity of his own he's not just a pair of eyes watching Gojo. Michi himself is just a tertiary character in Geto and Gojo's narrative because he's observing from the outside but he's still his own person with his own story to tell.

Geto and Michi had a very insightful convo. They are almost parallels, but they differ on one aspect you already explained to me in another ask I sent you: Michi confronted Geto. Right in front of his face. The world had already warned Geto with Riko's death in the hands of a mere "monkey." Someone sensitive, like Geto, would not survive in the world of Jujutsu. You can not save everyone when not even your life holds any value to the ones on top in charge of protecting you.

Michi is the midpoint between Geto and Gojo, deeply empathic like Geto and yet unable to relate to his fellow human beings like Gojo even if for completely opposite reasons. However, I do think Michi has given up on the idea that Gojo will ever understand him in spite of the fact that he still feels a lot towards Gojo.

However, Michi still desperately wants to be understood, which is why in spite of acting like a mastermind who wants to entrap both Gojo and Geto in his scheme he goes out of his way to try to explain himself to Geto and try to get Geto to see the world the way he does because Geto is the only person, perhaps in his entire life, that has given any kind of inkling that he might care.

Michi wants to be cared about, but he feels like when his mother died, there was no one else in the world obligated to care for him or take care of him. Geto is just someone who genuinely cares, Michi didn't think people like him still existed in this world.

That broke Geto and eventually caused his breakup with Gojo because Geto realised that he was weak. That he did care. He never forgot Riko like Gojo. He felt guilty for letting his feelings overwhelm him and ruin his relationship with Gojo. He started to understand that compassion and empathy were a weakness. Those feelings were the reason he got so careless. It was his fault that Riko died:

On the other hand I think the reason Michi immediately connected to Geto, is because Geto actually wears his human weakness on his sleeve. Geto's inability to show human weakness is what destroys his friendship with Gojo, especially since Gojo doesn't want to see that weakness in his best friend who is the only person he sees as an equal. On the other hand Michi is attracted to Geto because of his unwavering humanity.

Geto really is too sensitive to survive in this world, and Michi knows that, while Gojo is oblivious to that, but that knowledge just kind of makes Michi find Geto as someone precious. Geto is someone who's actually not all that mentally strong, he's vulernable and weak, and gets hurt because he cares too much and he can't actually just suck it all up and handle the strain of being a sorcerer but those things make him human in michi's eyes. He doesn't want Geto to suck it up and be stronger, he doesn't want Geto to become someone unfeeling and untouchable, to lose his sensitivty and empathy even if both things end up driving him mad. And after the fact, Michi decides to do the opposite of Gojo, and stay by his side and walk the same path as him.

I think simply because Michi wants to protect him. He doesn't want the world to kill this caring person the same way that it killed his mother, even though Geto has completely lost his way.

This part of chap.5 made me wonder if Michi could have caught feelings for Geto (maybe one-sided). Since their first interactions, I always thought they could have had something if the circumstances were different and, well... if Gojo wasn't there intervening lol.

Uh so word of god. Michi is in love with Geto. It's not what you'd consider traditional romantic love, because Michi doesn't really feel romantic love. If I had to compare it to anything it would be Itsuki fell for Sensui.

Loving Geto for being pure as the driven snow and continuing to love him after he fell into despair and became defiled.

I don't think Michi would ever sleep with Geto though even though he sleeps around with men a lot. Not because I'm like Oc X Canon is bad, but because he thinks Geto belongs to Gojo.

aside from getting rid of Gojo he tried to "spare" Geto from his deplorable mental state by making him accept the reality of their line of work (like a twisted act of love?👀) but chose not to just like Gojo chose to avoid getting any closer to Geto once he realised that he was weaker than him to protect him.

Michi's plans definitely shifted halfway through when he connected to Geto so quickly. I think it's like you said, Michi believed he had to show Geto the cruelty of the world. It's that logic that parents sometimes say, "I have to be cruel to you to teach you, because the world won't be easy on you." Also, like Itsuki above I think Michi detected those dark impulses in Geto brewing just under the surface, and wanted to drag them up. Because one, he saw a common spirit in Geto, and two I think he knew Geto was repressing himself so hard he was basically killing himself to function as a cog in society.

I think Michi just wanted Geto to leave cursed society though, he never could have predicted Geto would go on to be a mass murderer, and never would have wanted that to happen. Even if he still stuck by his side after the fact.

After Gojo vs. Michi's fight, Michi is left defeated on the ground without his eyes. He asks for a last request: to be killed by Geto instead of Gojo. I think it was a very smart decision to pick Geto instead of Gojo to do the job. Gojo would have killed Michi in less than seconds. Gojo didn't care about a weaklings' life who were just on his way.

Michi's decision to ask Geto to do it instead of Gojo is simultaneously a calculation (he knew Gojo was going to kill him without hesitation but he was counting on the fact Geto would hesitate) and also a small act of mercy. Even though Gojo would kill him and forget about him soon afterwards, he doesn't think Gojo should be forced to kill his own family member because of how inhuman that act is.

Gojo shouldn't have to get his hands dirty and give away just another piece of his humanity for Jujutsu Society yet again, is Michi's logic.

Those women were doing their job, just like Gojo, Geto, and Michi, but they could die in the hands of anyone any day and then... the blame would fall on them for being "weak, because "they were looking for it when they got in the industry. " Lastly, they'd be forgotten and replaced with other prostitutes. How different were those prostitutes from Gojo and the rest of the sorcerers? Risking their bodies for the sake of someone else's pleasure (the higher ups), accepting being dehumanised for a salary... They're not really that different, are they?

I'm glad you got the metaphor that basically the whole fic was built around. If you like this, it's an idea I explore further with Mei Mei's character in my most recent fic. Basically, Mei Mei like Michi has the same point of view. That Sorcerers are basically prostitutes who sell their body and enter a dangerous line of work where their lives mean nothing for money.

That every sorcerer is an expendable target, and when they die it's their own fault. That the system makes them put themselves in danger, and then blames them for becoming Jujutsu Sorcerers in the first place because they should have known the risk, nevermind how rigged society is against them. How the elders and people in charge do absolutely nothing to protect them.

Anyway, I'm glad you liked the fics and I try just as hard to explore similiar themes in my later fics. I basically like to build each fic around a central idea, like "Don't you hate how prostitutes always die in the beginning of mystery novels?" So I hope since you're such a good reader you'll enjoy the themes of my later fics.

[deepseavibez]

Blindspot || KTH

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-> Picture Source - Pinterest

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Blindspot [Taehyung x Reader]

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Genre - Best Friend; Fear of the Future; Nighttime Memories; Mixed Feelings;

Summary - She believed in more. In better. In bigger. That life was out there waiting to be grabbed with both hands. He's made it his sole purpose to remind her that simple moments were beautiful and meant to be enjoyed... and maybe, she would realize he was one of them.

Warning - (Slight) Angst; Anxiety; Unsure feelings; Fear of the Future; Fluff; Comfort;

Word Count - 4.7k

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🎶 - I'm Fine - BTS

TAE

‘Tae.’

‘Y/n?’ He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the time, ‘it’s 3am babe.’

‘... I'm sorry for waking you. Sorry. Go back to sleep, it's okay.’

‘Hey, no, no, I'm awake.’ Sitting up, he switched the phone to his other hand and rubbed at his eyes, ‘What's going on.’

‘It’s not important, I swear,’ he could hear her trying to mask her shakiness over the phone. ‘You can go back to sleep.’

He wouldn’t call her out on lying. He knew better than anyone when y/n was in a bad way. Once he asked her, specifically him, what was wrong, she would crumble and he wasn’t there to catch her right now. ‘Y/n. Come on, talk to me.’

‘I can't sleep.’

‘Yeah, no shit,’ he yawned back.

‘I'm so sorry for waking you.’ He could hear the trepidation in her voice.

‘You know better than to apologize for something like that, ‘ he chastised. ‘Babe, tell me about it. Was it a bad dream? Something keeping you up?’

----------

Y/N

You could hear shuffling over the phone as you searched for an answer. It was hard to put certain emotions into words. You only knew you needed to phone Tae, regretting it too late, when he actually answered. ‘I'm not sure,’ you started awkwardly, ‘I guess. I just don't know where I'm going.’

‘Do you plan on leaving me anytime soon?’ Already pulling your leg, he got you to roll your eyes.

‘No, of course not. I just mean, like, metaphorically.’

Things were a bit...confusing right now.

It had been a long time since you last had to deal with emotions this strong. The voices, getting harder to ignore. You had enough outside negativity to deal with, like family and some friends, all having this certain expectation from you.

It was new for you to rebel, to be who you wanted to be and feel how you wanted to feel without consequences. Choosing a life you solely strived toward, negating the tiny voice in your head saying you were wasting time and you were running out of time and you were not enough.

‘I don't know what I want to do, Tae!’ You burst out, the build up too long, the burden too heavy. ‘I don't have plans. I have a great job, I do. But I don't want to be a PA for the rest of my life and I don't know where to start, where to look, how to choose what I want to do.

I don’t have it figured out, it hasn’t fallen onto my lap, and when I look, I feel like I’m going to waste even more time looking.’

‘Y/n, you know you have a lot more figured out than you give yourself credit for.’ The huskiness of his sleep-leaden voice, comforted you. ‘You have money, a routine stable job, you've worked you way through university and graduated with honors.’ Taehyung did it without effort and he knew you would hear his gruff tone above all others, in a crowd, in a panic, as a voice of reason.

‘I know, and I keep trying to remind myself of that, but it’s just become unbearable. I am running out of time.’ Struggling to remain composed you spoke into the phone as if he was right here, ‘What if I'm still here in ten years, Tae? What if I don't ever figure out my purpose? What if I'm meant to just work and then die? I haven't lived! I haven’t seen the world. I’ve made everyone proud and now I’m the black sheep. I prefer it, It's just-,’

The sound of keys jangling cut you off.

‘Tae,’ you asked tentatively, confusion evident.

‘Hmm.’

‘What are you doing?’ You asked when he provided no further explanation.

‘Are you in pj's right now?’

‘Uh,’ you looked down at your white vest and underwear, just to make sure, ‘yeah, why?’

‘Miss y/n, I didn't know you slept in the nude.’

The protests left you immediately at his teasing, slithering heat under your skin at the very notion. ‘Tae! I am not sleeping in the nude, I have underwear on.’

‘Uh huh, what color are they?’ Your cheeks flamed in embarrassment. You could imagine his smirk, that dumb cocky, arrogant smirk.

He laughed, the sound gruff, infuriating you more, and causing you to giggle back. Because you were the butt of the joke, and you liked his laugh too much. Trying to be mad at him, even when play-fighting or harmless bantering, Taehyung, not a chance.

‘Listen,’ a seriousness settling between you, ‘get dressed, just sweatpants, and a shirt.’

‘Wait, what, why,’

‘Baby, listen for once. Just get dressed and give me five minutes.’

You looked at the blank screen, stunned. Your brain stuck at the word baby, and the effect it had. Your insides were mush, anxiety mollified, despite not knowing what he was about to do next.

‘Babe’, you knew, ‘babe’, you understood, that was normal, routine, best friend. But Baby?

You mulled over it as you discarded your vest, and threw on a loose Celine shirt. Pulling on your black sweats, a pair of socks and air force ones because who knows what this boy was up to, you stopped. You sniffed, once, twice, yep, that was Taehyung’s body wash, but what - oh, you tugged the loose collar toward your nose, yep, this was Tae’s shirt.

You composed yourself, almost deadpan at the small realization. When had he even stripped in your room and why weren’t you there.

Wrapping your messy hair into a bun, you restrained your mind from wandering further.

Your phone beeped from the bed and the screen lit up, a message popping up. ‘Look out your window.’

Peeping out you saw his black Jeep in your driveway. He popped his head out of the driver’s side window and did a two finger salute.

Shaking your head with a smile, you grabbed your phone and made your way downstairs through the house and out the front door.

‘What are you doing here,’ you asked as soon as he came into view. He looked good, white tee, black sweatpants, you matched, except for his leather jacket and red bandana.

He opened the passenger door on your side and leaned back, giving you a once over. His lips twitched as he rested his eyes on the shirt you wore. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wanted you in his shirt. You raised your eyebrow playfully, refusing to give life to something like butterflies and heart-eyes when your best friend stood in front of you. Life was complicated enough.

‘You needed me to show up.’ He said it a matter-of-factly, but you knew he wanted to be there for you and you couldn’t, not feel grateful, and a little warm, that he would get into his car drive to you, all because you needed him to.

Not waiting for you to reply, he threw a jersey at you. ‘Its cold,’ his tone left no room for protest and he cocked his head toward the jeep, a sign to get in.

You wrapped it around you silently, not moving, not yet.

‘Well,’ his thumb curled around the top of the steering wheel as the rest of his fingers straightened out, his freehand rising to follow his question, ’Come on, get in.’

‘Where are we going?’ You would have gotten in, you would probably end up wherever he was going to take you anyway, but where was the fun in doing everything obediently. Even puppies had wild streaks.

He raised his eyebrow this time, a smirk teasing his cheek, 'You're brave every night, y/n. But not tonight, not while you're with me, come, trust me, wherever we go I'll keep you safe.'

You turned to close and lock the front door, breathing out slowly, as slow and low as you could, doing your best to work on the constriction around your heart; his words too wiry, too strong, too genuine to forget, too deep to ignore. It made you so... agreeable.

Getting into the Jeep, you felt different as you sat here now, in a seat you had been in too many times to count. It was probably the time and the circumstances. Yeah, some shifts were just because of the time, and the air and because it was silent and the dead of night.

You said nothing more, even though a few minutes earlier you spoke into the phone like you would explode if you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, you would be alone in your head, if you weren’t able to make him understand.

You jumped slightly, as you felt his hand close over yours, and pull it toward him to brush his lips along your knuckles. It was an absent action, maybe, because he stared straight ahead, didn’t spare a glance at you as you stared at the side of his head, making it look like he wasn’t even aware he was doing what he was doing.

Swallowing against the pounding of your heart, you chalked this up too. Night time was vulnerable, everyone was just a little more sensitive, you didn’t have to make it more than it needed to be.

Looking out the window you noted the lights and dark windows, empty parks and streets, doing your best to ignore the heat against your hand, the breath against your knuckles, lips not very far away, that were capable of a lot more.

With some effort, you faded out the intensity of his actions, and as your eyes adjusted you saw familiar figures, and buildings you had driven past numerous times. You knew where you were going.

He pulled up in the parking lot of his safe haven. In retrospect, your safe place should be entirely different, but you were safe with Tae, that said, his peace was where you found yours.

Jumping out of the Jeep, you noted how dark and looming the two story building looked. A huge sign reading 'Blindspot' the only posh part about this place, black metal roller doors, spray painted names across the walls, some of the neon colors standing luminescent against the moonless night.

One would think it was graffiti, but the community knew better, the ones that came and went, some that stopped and never left, knew having your name on the wall was a privilege.

He jumped out too, after grabbing something from the back. Carrying it toward you, you noted his knapsack, and a box of some sort.

Handing it over to you to hold, you took hold of them silently, as he pulled out the keys to open the locks and deadbolt.

You watched him, his actions purposeful but he was at home, knowing which way the locks turned, the catch on the bolt needing to be kicked out a certain way before opening fully; he'd done this a thousand times before.

Lifting up the shutters, the noise too loud for the silent night, he opened the door and guided you in, making you all too aware of his palm in the small of your back. Taking the stuff from your hand and throwing it onto the edge of the ring and he lifted up to close the shutters behind you.

You took notice of the extra shirt that falls out of the pile on the ring, one of your favorites of his actually, grey with black spots, sort of like a giant cookies and cream oreo mix.

The empty gym in front of you was a contrast to the busy days it had. There was a weight section, the bags lined up against the far wall hanging still, having no impact thrown at it to sway the dead weight, and the machines had their own floor upstairs, treadmills overlooking the balustrades to the floor below, by the ring where you stood.

The pool area, directly below you, in the basements where the changing rooms and showers could be found.

It looked small on the outside, but inside there were stories to be told, motivation, encouragement, brotherhood, friendships solidified in stone and a fair share of violent memories with broken bones, broken bonds and broken hearts.

Walls were packed with quotes, anatomy teachings and pictures, schedules, a dedicated to growing trophy case with medals and newspaper clippings, and pictures of staff, members, and the boss, with his best friend.

What Tae didn't continue, was the stereotype of the grunge masculine look that came with gyms. Outside may be black as night, but inside there was color everywhere - a world within.

The punching bags were each a different shade, green, red, yellow and blue. The ring bottom was black, neon orange ropes running along the sides in three consecutive lines, and your personal favorite, a giant pride flag hung on a hook outside his office door.

Toxic masculinity wasn't allowed in Taehyung's gym. You could be yourself, make your own lifestyle choices and still be a good fighter or just work-out. He took it upon himself to punch the teeth out of anyone that thought otherwise. This was what he'd always wanted to do and he made it more than just a place to get healthy.

There were four hours, two for the morning, two for the afternoon, catered only to women. Tae understood that men will be men, no matter how much you tried to change it. And comfort mattered.

Working out and exercising, as much as it seemed, like a chore, it could be enjoyable. It could be a social setting, helping people to open up, and cope, providing the best way for them to be themselves.

You helped him find a premises, helped him choose color schemes, and sat in on interviews. For legal purposes you were an advisor and owned a small share percentage. You didn't want it, but Tae insisted, you were especially grateful when the gym grew into more than you both had expected it to become.

'Y/n,' he waved his hand in front of your face, the action snapping you out of your thoughts.

'Huh, sorry, did you say something?'

He smiled comfortingly, 'Take the jacket off and your shoes.'

Scrunching your eyebrows, you finally asked, 'Tae, what are we doing here?'

'We are,' he started explaining as he ripped open a box in his hand, 'doing something I feel you need.'

Looking at you pointedly, he motioned his eyes to the jacket.

Shucking it off, you took off your shoes and redid your bun for good measure.

'It's strange isn't it,' you voiced out loud. He perked up at your food for thought, fingers fiddling with white tape. 'It's strange, that I know every corner of this place, but I haven't ever put a pair of gloves on.'

He raised his hand absently, a student raising his hand to give an answer, his gaze focused on yours as he did. 'That's because you've never had the need to, I'm here to protect you.'

Turning away, you caught yourself, before you let your heart show in your eyes. You've known Tae for so long, been his best friend for years, why now, why this feeling, this tightness in your chest.

You played it off, and walked over to him, socked feet padding against the wooden floor boards.

Taehyung clicking his tongue startled you out of your effort to feel normal; you found him staring at your socks.

'Y/n, I've told the guys this numerous times, you can't spar in the boxing section with socks. It's a slipping hazard.' No trace of the out of the blue romantic words, he bent down easily removing them from your feet one after the other.

It would be weird, if you weren't already so used to his skinship, his cuddling when he slept over, his hand straying over your shoulder on the couch, or brushing against your waist when he passed you. Yet, his thumb, on your ankle, his hand as he circled and held it, even for just the moment that he laid your foot down after taking off the sock, you felt… taken.

You wanted to snort, the wording completely off, I mean, he had a right over you, always had but-

He came into focus, looking up at you from where he sat, and asked lightly,' Do you wash these.'

Your mouth dropped open, as you watched him hold your purple socks in between two fingers, like it would bite him, or the smell would.

Your knee nudged at the side of his face playfully as you reached to pull him up. He took your socks, holding them properly now and put them in his bag, picking up the white tape he was fidgeting with earlier.

'So, will I be sparring with you today?' You were excited now. You had watched people vent and let themselves be free as they learned technique, let themselves be violent without consequences, the satisfaction on their faces after their sessions.

When he finally reaches you again he finds the catch and opens it out. White athletic tape, used to make arms and wrists stiffer, and to provide better grip, even with sweat and slick.

'No, not today. Let's focus on getting you worked up and tired. If you enjoy it, I'll gladly let you go toe to toe with me.' His eyes held a challenge, an underlying meaning evident.

Offering your hands up freely, he taped your wrists and fingers, you've seen him do it many times, just never on your wrists. Experimentally you shook out your fingers and bent and scrunched your wrist to allow for the right amount of tightness.

'Cocky, aren't you, Mr. Kim,' you side-eyed him.

He leaned into you, his breath teasing yours, 'I am the Coach here, y/n.' You blinked at the nervous fluttering in your chest, his intimidation, usually not directed so closely to you, doing something you couldn't explain, couldn't quite grasp.

Somehow, you should be scared, but it was, hot.

Leaning into him, breath for breath, you matched up, 'Then teach me.'

A slow smile broke out over his lips, playful Tae was back, it let you navigate things easier, you knew what to expect.

'So, I'm boxing the bag,' you deduced. 'I don't see why I need to tire myself out. I don't know how to do this.'

His palms closed over your cheeks, puffing your face up, emphasizing your pout. 'You are frustrated. You can't do anything about any of your emotions tomorrow, y/n. You have to be patient. You have to remind yourself it's a day at a time that gets you to your future. It will always be about patience.'

'Unfortunately, patience is overrated at something to 4am,’ you complained as he let go of your face and bent down to produce a new set of gloves from under the ring. Opening the zip of the bag, he pushed one toward you.

Shaking his head at your antics, not even phased, he strapped the gloves to both your hands and walked toward a bag. 'Come on, try it.'

'Color?'

'The yellow one.' He made to stand behind the bag you chose, and held either side of it, knees bent slightly in a defensive stance.

Feeling slightly out of place, and awkward, you huffed and punched the bag just to humor him.

You stared at it. The fucking thing didn't even move.

He burst out laughing at the comical look on your face.

'Okay, wait no,' he composed himself and came around you. His breath fanned your neck, giving you goosebumps, as he held your wrists and showed you how to punch. 'So straighten your elbow, like this, and pull it back in and see how the gloves are shaped, your forefingers curl above your thumb, so inside your glove your thumb shouldn't be in the fist.'

Nodding as you took in the new information, you did your best not to get distracted as he continued, all too comfortable in his element.

'When your wrist hits the bag don't curl it, let it face the impact head on. See, this is how you do it, so you don't break your wrist.' He made you punch the bag and showed you where your wrist was bending and how to keep it tight.

'Alright, baby,' that word, that goddamn word, 'you good to try again?'

Closing your eyes and swallowing hard, you nodded in answer and shook your head out of the Tae trance.

'Start with a simple combo this time, Jab, Jab, Uppercut, Hook.' You knew the names and their directions. Jab was straight forward, twice fast on the submissive hand as a set-up, the uppercut from downward into the abdomen or chin, depending, and the hook, from the dominant hand rounding off on the face.

'Think of it all y/n,' he encouraged, as he walked to his original position, 'the people, the words, the expectations, the beating up of yourself you do on a daily basis, and just go for it.'

Spreading your legs in a stance, aiming at the bag on his command, you clenched your fists and focused.

'Go'

----

'And breathe.'

Breathing heavily you fell flat to the floor, and stared up at the ceiling.

Sweat was in your eyes and your hair, but despite being in dire need of a shower, you felt oddly at ease. Tiny zings of exertion shot through your body as your lungs begged for air and you heard your blood rushing.

The roof was really pretty you thought, the wood positioned in long blocks to form and hold up the gable, grabbing your attention for the first time ever.

You blinked as Tae's face came into view, his hands resting on his knees.

He smirked cutely as he brushed your sweat slicked hair out of your eyes and off your face before reaching down to pick you up off the floor.

Handing you a water bottle, you let him manhandle you as he lifted your form to sit on the edge of the ring, launching himself up to sit next to, a second later.

'How do you feel?' He was proud of himself no doubt, after all, his plan did succeed.

You made a face at him, anyway.

'Hey,' he put both his hands up in mock surrender. 'It worked, didn't it.'

You cut him some slack, this time. 'Yeah, I feel icky, but definitely less worked up.'

---------

🎶 - Black Swan - BTS

TAE

Taking a swig of the water you had opened in your hand, he looks at the top of your head as he closes it and puts it away.

'Hey.'

She looks up at him, eyes hooded in exhaustion.

He smiles at her. Despite how much he loved her spitfire, she's adorable when she's not talking back.

He knew of the thoughts that crawled up her spine on a daily basis. He knew she had no plan, and it made her hyper that she didn't have one, but she couldn't make one because, what if she chose wrong.

He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to tell her that she could be whatever she wanted to be, and he would fly her across the ocean if she really wanted it; that she didn't need to worry about life so much because he would always take care of her.

'You're too sad.'

She scrunched her eyebrows at him.

'You have the whole weight of the world on your shoulders and you can't do anything about it.' He chose his next words carefully. 'I wish you could take a breather, and let a thought be a thought instead of picking it apart.'

He held up his hand to her when she made to protest.

'You know, things may not feel okay right now, with work, or at home, and in your head. But I've never seen someone adapt like you have. You bounce back, despite how much grit it takes.'

He took the gloves off her hand and carefully unwinded the tape on her fingers.

'I don't have answers y/n. But I do know you have me for a long time and I'm going to be here as you do your thing.'

Placing pressure on each finger he massaged the tightness out of it and flexed it for her.

'I don't know where you're supposed to go, if you were meant to leave and give me a round-the-world heartbreak, I'm not sure who you're supposed to be, I don't even know if you have a higher purpose, it wouldn't surprise me if you did, but you, y/n,' he heaved a sigh as he faced her, his gaze meeting hers, his next words the most important thing she'd need to remember,' you're a good you.'

As he met her eyes, her breath hitched. He heard it. He could see the flush in her face. He knew he was being honest. He knew he meant every word.

A half smile, a heavy acceptance, hands that were so easy to hold, eyes that were never anything but honest, a bond that all but forced a person to keep swimming. That was Taehyung to y/n. And that was y/n to Taehyung.

'You're a really, good you,' he reinforced. 'Right now, it works. I have a feeling it will work for a very long time.'

'I'm scared.' He could hear it in her voice. He heard it back when she was in her room too.

'Nothing is really set in stone, babe. And even though it does feel like you're running out of time, it's something you can't help. It's not what you want to hear but it's true.'

'How do I stop being sad?'

She was deflecting. But he had said it before, it wouldn't be gone tomorrow. Her anxiety and her fears, they will probably never go away.

She had the right way to go about it though. You get through it. Somehow. Some days it's a good cry, some days it's with a punching bag, and some days, it was with a best friend.

'See, now that's why you have me.' He answered confidently, as he put his chest out, his need to have her be okay, her smile, her laugh, his only intentions, his favorite thing these days.

'Oh really, you, why, because you're a clown.'

He feigned offense at the statement. 'Excuse me, I am not a clown, ask anyone that comes in for the 5am rush.'

She looked up at the clock in shock, it was really going half-four. She turned back to him sadly, 'I kept you up all night.'

'It was a fun night,' he replied, the teasing of many other ways to keep him up on the tip of this tongue, deciding against it, he looked away from her. 'You needed me, no amount of sleep is worth that.'

He didn't explain himself, he really didn't mind the lack of sleep. He could easily catch a nap in his office, or head home after half a day. But this, this moment with his best friend, that he wanted to be more, he knew he wouldn't choose to be anywhere else. He knew he'd do it over again too.

Pushing off the ring he grabbed the knapsack and handed her his shirt. 'Change out of that shirt, and use this one, you'll catch a cold, because of the sweat. And let's get you home, you need a hot shower, and sleep. I'll drop by for dinner after work too.'

Finally turning to her, he found she hadn't moved an inch, unshed tears in her eyes. Before he knew what he was doing, he pulled her toward him, sweat and all, and held her in his arms. 'You're first y/n, you'll always be first.'

A tender kiss on her head, his words rendering her speechless, and he knew uncharted waters were on the horizon.

This night, things that he'd said, the ways in which she responded, it was going to shift things for them.

But silence was comfortable for them. And she drank his share of coffee while he ate her share of pineapple, because he couldn't stand coffee and she hated pineapple. And he could hold her in his arms and she'd use his shirt while they slept.

It would start small, but he'd show her, the future was bright, she was deserving of more than she understood, she would be protected from her family and expectations and she would learn to remember, purpose or no purpose she wasn't alone, she never would be again.