#and I could only start really reading them after graduation. (its still not EASY either I just put special attention into making sure I CAN

[merkerlerspeaks]

desperately want to rant now about how much i want to understand algebra and car mechanics and technology and how electronics are built and how my confidence in myself to be able to understand it is totally and completely shot and stamped down into the mud because even though I know it's logically untrue that i am incapable, the school system totally trampled everything about it I loved out of me and now it just makes me anxious and panicky when I DO try to learn about it.

i watched my dad fix computers as a kid cuz the computer guts were fascinating and pretended to be violet baudelaire bc i thought inventing/robotics was cool and math was my favourite subject as a kid. it's a bit depressing to think about honestly.

[lebrookestore]

the one; l.ty

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x reader

Themes: exes! au, best friends to nothing, exes to nothing, college! ish au because they’re graduating, the angst is a very subtle type but its still pretty heavy

Warnings: unrequited love, heavy angst, mentions of kissing and food (ice cream)

Wc: 1.6k

Playlist: the 1 by taylor swift, closure by taylor swift, 2 kids by taemin, dancing after death by Matt Maeson

Authors note: this is a deleted scene from my fic, favorite crime! (which you should go read. please lmao but also because it will give this story even more context) i have altered it so it sort of works as a oneshot? Anyways, I hope you like it<3

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now

~

When you’re younger, you’re told to live your life to the fullest, to enjoy your youth. You’re seen as naive and and wide eyed at the world around you. When you’re younger you’re allowed to make those stupid mistakes and mess up, because people look past them.

But some mistakes, everyone but yourself can look past. These type of mistakes could haunt you for the rest of your life with every little thing you do. The what ifs.

And when you’re young, even though you have so much of your life left to enjoy, you can’t ever go back and fix them. They were permanent, like a life long promise, or a tattoo inked into your skin. You would never be able to escape them, even if you moved on.

At age twenty one, standing in front of your full length mirror donning your graduation cape, you had already made one of these mistakes, and it weighed you down everyday, simply because the reminder of it all was just a window away.

You glanced through your window, seeing him there, doing the same thing as you were, trying to adjust his tie. If you hadn’t been so stupid, then the two of you would have been getting ready together, you would be the one tying his tie and he would be the one teasing you about how your your cap was too big for you.

You let a smile brief your lips, before looking away. Even though you were no longer staring at him, you knew exactly what he was, the image burned into your mind. Bleached blond hair still messy no matter how much he tried to tame it, his bright eyes that seemed to hold the universe and that intoxicating smile.

Your biggest mistake was falling in love with the boy who never loved you back.

And how you had fallen, hook, line and sinker for him. Taeyong was the object of your affections, your best friend- well former best friend. That was where your mistake came in.

You foolishly let it happen, a relationship of sorts with him. At first, it was everything you had ever wanted, but that slowly started turning into a nightmare you wanted to wake up from. Sometimes you still wonder if you’re in a nightmare.

The two of you worked so well together, because you had known each other since you were four. He knew all your flaws, had seen you at your worst and at your best. You would have never thought he would be the cause of one of your worst moments.

But Taeyong, he wasn’t in love with you, but rather, was infatuated. Infatuated with the idea of love and loving you. Once he figured that out, he did the right thing and told you, effectively breaking up with you.

You lost your best friend and lover all at once. It was painful being around him, because you were still in love with him. He had been your everything, and now you had nothing at all. He slipped through your fingers like sand on a beach.

You hadn’t talked to him since that night he told you the truth. You made an effort to not look at him through your window, because it would just break your heart more. You had never known what it was to be heartsick until you experienced it yourself, and extremely violently.

He didn’t push it either, giving you your space. And while this helped you heal, it also felt so wrong. From spending almost every moment together, to spending no time at all, your lives had completely changed.

For some, love was a breeze, it gave them a fuzzy warm feeling that they wanted to hold onto forever. For you, love hurt like a bitch.

You couldn’t help but think about what could have been, if he had actually loved you. Or if you never indulged in what you wanted and just stayed friends. Sometimes- no, all the time, you wished that had happened instead. You were fine with loving him quietly.

Another part of you, the more selfish part, wished he never realized he didn't love you. You would have been fine living that way, but that was only thinking about yourself. You deserved to know, and he deserves that freedom.

What if?

Falling into love is easy, especially with someone like Taeyong. He was the most beautiful guy you had ever seen, with the kindest heart you could think of. You had fallen when you were merely seventeen, still in high school.

No, it was the falling out of love part that was harder. After loving someone for as long as you had loved him, you couldn't imagine ever loving anyone else. The sheer thought of it didn't make sense to you.

So what if you were still with him, what if you never lost him. What if he was still your best friend through thick and thin?

Snapping out of your thoughts, you made one last adjustment to your graduation cap and sighed, scanning yourself over in the mirror. Deeming yourself presentable, you walked out of your apartment, jogging down the stairs of the building and reaching the ground level.

You were hitching a ride with your friend Ryunjin, who was arguably the world's worst driver but you didn't really have a choice. If you did, you would be going with Taeyong, but well, that wasn't going time happen.

You yourself couldn't drive, simply because you were too scared of accidently killing someone. Taeyong had even tried to teach you how to drive when the two of you were dating, but it was discovered that you were probably even worse than Ryunjin.

A few traumatized minutes of the drive to campus later, you found yourself lost in a sea of students that were also graduating with you. Thankfully you had a few friends, but it was still pretty overwhelming.

The ceremony itself was a blur, of you were being completely honest. You saw your friends get called up on stage and receive their scrolls. Ryunjin flashes an awkward peace sign at the principal because she shook his hand, Ten did a happy dance after, and Renjun pretended to click a picture.

You saw Taeyong go up there and receive his scroll, a bright smile on his face, a smile you so loved. You clapped for him, a proud, yet bittersweet smile gracing your features.

And soon it was you up there, and after you had gotten your scroll and take your picture, it had literally turned blurry. You didn’t realize you were tearing up until a wave of emotions crashed over you. You had finally graduated, you were out of this place after four years.

You hated change, despised it even. Now you were thrust out into the world, gone was the familiarity of attending classes and parties with your friends. First you lost your best friend, now you’d probably lose most of your other friends. It wasn’t as if all of you were going to stay in the town, you had first hand experience of this when your friend Yeji graduated the year before and moved away.

You were so young, so naive and yet it felt as if you couldn’t hold on to a single moment long enough. How were you supposed to enjoy your youth then? You were slowly loosing everything.

Sucking in a deep breath, you composed yourself, a laugh escaping you when Ryunjin practically threw herself onto you in a hug of celebration. You quickly wiped your tears so no one saw them, smiling. 

Turning around to talk to another friend, your eyes met Taeyong’s. He was much further away from you, but you knew it was him, you’d always know him. He didn’t break the contact, a small smile appearing on his lips as me mouthed something.

‘I’m proud of you’

You mustered up the best smile you could, repeating the same things silently so that only he would know it. Pressing your lips together pacified, you once again accepted that it was over. You had accepted it so many times, but you had to keep reminding yourself.

With one last look in his direction, you raised your hand up, curling your fingers into a fist before bringing it down to your chest, right over your heart. His smile only grew as he gave you an affectionate wave. Best friends after all, you knew each other like the back of your hands.

And then everyone tossed their caps into the air, as cheers resounded through the hall. Laughter and chattering filled the area, and you knew it would be alright in the end. 

You accepted the fact that Taeyong would haunt all your what-ifs, even as you tried to move on. All the kisses at midnight and late night talks out on your adjoining roofs, the long drives and ice cream dates- it was a thing of the past.

And yes, it still hurt when you recalled all the beautiful things that had happened with your time with him, the way the two of you were so beautiful.

It simply wasn’t meant to be, even if you were still in love with him. Heck, you were sure you’d always be in love with Taeyong, a part of your heart would be reserved for him and him only, but it was time to let go. You weren’t okay right now, but you’d learn to be okay. 

Still, it would have been fun if he had been the one.

fin.

[youryanderedaddy]

Love Fuel

Summary: You were Jason’s first love before you broke his heart and rejected him. It’s all your fault that he can’t move on.

Tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, incel behavior, nice guy behavior, self - hatred, threats of non-con, implied non - con, implied masturbation, bullying based on appearance (not reader), deregatory language, kidnapping, misogyny, generalizations, stalking

this is a hot mess but its 1 am and i am tired, ik that incels are bad irl (obviously), but this is fiction and I kinda wanted to explore the dynamic and shit. 

Everyone used to call him JJ or The-Big-Jay back in high school. Well, most of the time his classmates weren’t really calling out to him or even talking to him, the names were whispered behind his back, after he had just passed the hallway, or on bad days - right to his face. The jocks, these dumb motherfuckers, would beat him up, mock him for whatever stupid reasons they had chosen to use as an excuse to torment the smaller and weaker. The popular girls would giggle like brainless bimbos as Kyle or Brad or any other football player stole his glasses or continuously punched him in the guts until he threw up all over the floor. Even the nerds, the kids at the bottom of the school hierarchy, messed with Jason from time to time when they wanted to feel the oh - so desired rush of power they so rarely managed to experience. 

Looking back, Jason could see why his classmates hated him so much - he was everything that society deemed as wrong and unattractive. He was thin, pale, “scrawny” as the others called him, on the shorter side, and on top of that the teen was terribly shy and introverted, never having the guts to stand up to his bullies or even tell someone about the abuse. The male spent most of his free time at home, playing hours upon hours of video games, watching anime and reading books he was simply too young to understand or look critically at. As he grew older, the man began to view the world as it trully was - a dark, miserable place that ate up sore losers like him. Men were primitive and foolish, which somehow managed to soften their faults. Women, on the other hand, were  calculative and manipulative, greedy and sinful. His whole life they had done nothing but reject him when he needed love and support the most. Of course, there were many other reason why the brunette detested the weaker sex. In his eyes women were evil two - faced sluts, showing off their bodies yet acting innocent and hurt once someone finally decided to use them for the only thing they were actually good for.

But you Jason hated the most. You reminded him that no matter how much he hated the outside world, he would always hate himself the most. He had to admit you were pretty, painfully so, with a perfect little body to match your looks and a sweet sugary smile that almost deceived him years ago. As much as the man regretted his weakness, he had fallen right into your trap at the time.

You weren’t the most popular girl, but you had your fair share of friends, all nice and loyal like puppies. You weren’t the smartest either, but unlike the other stupid giggling sluts you always tried to do your best. You were beautiful just like them but you were actually kind to the pathetic bullied kid no one else bothered to acknowledge even existed outside of being a punching bag. You always asked him whether he was alright and often took him to the infirmary when he looked paler and sicker than usual. You talked to him as if he was a normal human being and despite the initial doubt, Jason appreciated it. 

It was the last day of your senior year when the teen finally gained the courage to confess. He was shaking the whole time and by the end of his little speech there were small tears in the corner of his eye. You were the first girl the male cared about, the first one to show him kindness, to offer him friendship without asking for something in return. You were the only one who could make him feel deserving of love, worthy of affection. And then you took it all away in a matter of seconds.

“I am sorry, bud.” You had said that day after giving him a  half - hearted hug and an apologetic smile, that started to seem more and more like a mocking grin the longer the teen started at you. “I already have a boyfriend, but I am really flattered. I am sure that you will find a lovely girl once you start college.” You had added quickly, cheerfully, rubbing the salt all over his wounds, honey dripping from your plump red lips. He had wanted to kiss them, bruise them, bite them until your stupid lying mouth was filled with blood. Obviously you didn’t have a boyfriend or he would have known by now, he stalked your social media religiously after all. Even if you had one, he probably treated you like shit. And how could you even suggest him finding another woman? As if he wanted any of the stupid money - grabbing sluts out there. As if some of them could replace you.

The boy was too furious to form a proper response besides “Fuck you, bitch”. His cheeks turned red and he didn’t realise that the bitter words had escaped his lips before he could stop them, then his legs took him far away from that shithole of a school. He didn’t manage to see your reaction before running away but it didn’t matter anymore. You were just like the others. 

***

That day Jason swore to show you just how small and insignificant you had made him feel. He wanted to see you crumble, cry and beg for forgiveness, desperate for his love but never good enough to get it. The man formed a plan to change himself and come back for you once he had erased each and every trace of his past. The brunette came to terms with his terrible social anxiety and decided that he needed to gain social abilities more than anything. That’s why, as much as he dreamt of working from home as a boring programmer with an even more boring, but flexible working schelude, the male chose to study something that involved a lot more human interactions. The next step was to hit the gym for the first time and get a monthly subscription. It wasn’t hard to see that females nowadays liked brain - dead athletes with defined jawline and cheekbones, toned chests and strong muscled bodies, so if he wanted to impress you, he had to look his best. It wasn’t easy at first - it felt like everyone in the fitness salon had their eyes on his weak frame, laughing and pointing their fingers at his imperfections, but things gradually got better as time went on. The trainings became easier to get through and from time to time they even helped the man forget about his loneliness and nihilism. 

Jason soon returned to his old habbit of spending hours looking through your accounts - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, he knew all of your usernames, each post, every picture and text. He couldn’t believe how much of a desperate attention whore you had become over the years. The male remembered you in your long brown skirts, cozy sweatshirts and pure-white shirts, all the gray buttons closed to the very top, blushing, laughing, smiling like the adorable Goody-two-shoes you were. Now you were smirking seductively in every photo, overconfident and vibrant, flaunting your tits for every man to see and wearing tight little dresses that barelly covered your ass combined with heels so high and sharp they could be used as a weapon. You were such a stupid slut it was disgusting, and he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off every single time he saw your pretty little face on the screen. He wanted to cum down your throat so badly it was ridiculous, and even after knowing that you had probably already had hundreds of cocks shoved deep inside your pussy, the brunette still wished to see you split open on his, taking his lenght like a good little cocksleeve. 

***

The moment when he could see you again finally came. How many years had passed since graduation - five, ten, fifthteen? It hardly mattered. Jason was successful, at last. The male had his own business that was doing surprisingly well, there were some guys from the gym he could call friends and the best thing, he looked absolutely unrecognizable. There was nothing left of the tiny scrawny kid with quiet voice that everyone stepped over, he was now replaced by a strong capable man, determined to get what was rightfully his and his alone.

It wasn’t hard to find you since the brunette knew everything about you - where your job was, what time you finished, how long it took you to go home and what path you took. You lived alone and worked as a barista in a small local cafe even now that you had finished your studies in your dream faculty. Turns out the princess wasn’t so great and smart after all, having to resort to working a minimal - wage job day and night just to be able to pay her rent. Jason was absolutely delighted though, he loved your stupid dead - end job and your endless struggles to survive in the materialistic world honestly and fairly without selling yourself like a common whore. On one hand the male was happy that you had clung onto your last bit of innocence and on the other your pitiful lifestyle gave him the chance to snatch you away much easier. And that’s exactly what he did.

 ***

You woke up confused just like he had expected, bombarding him with questions, asking him who he was was, begging him to let you go, to at least explain what’s happening. You were so dumb, but God, you were still so pretty, if not prettier than before. You cried so beautifully when Jason told you you belonged to him now and you cried even more when he slammed his cold rough lips over yours in a deep wet kiss. You whimpered and whined while the male sucked on your lower lip and bit down, good, he wanted it to hurt. The stalker couldn’t wait to be inside you, he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists to the floor before tying them up with delicate red rope and tightening it. It wasn’t like the man was scared of you slipping away and hurting him, you were too weak and tiny to stand a chance against his years of power - lifting and muscle - training anyways, he just wanted you to be as uncomfortable and squirmish as possible. Your tormentor wished for you to be in worse pain than he had been during his youthful years, and he knew exactly what to do. Next thing you knew Jason had ripped your dress apart, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in just your plain old panties and bra. Cold shivers ran down your spine when the chilly air hit your naked flesh and you finally realized there wasn’t getting away from this. You had to stay there, limbs bound together, unable to move or fight back, the stranger’s hands caressing your neck before moving dangerously close to your clothed breasts. You felt so sick you were going to throw up for sure if your abductor didn’t step back so you decided to use your last resort.

“Jason, please stop!” You screamed out of the blue, forcing the brunette to freeze instantly at the use of his birth name. You had already called him a pervert and a psycho which didn’t seem to faze him, but the name clearly caught him off guard. This only seemed to prove your theory further - the man really was your former classmate, despite the only similarity between them being the dark distant look in his eyes. “I beg you, don’t hurt me!” You continued, hoping to at least buy yourself more time before the assault took place. 

He gulped loudly and stared at your quivering form. The impossible had happened, you had recognized him and now together with fear, there was also pity in your gaze, the one emotion your captor absolutely despised. You used to be the only one who pitied him, and even now that he was bigger, better and stronger than before, you still had the guts to pity him. It drove him insane but any attempt to hurt or touch you was fruitless now - your soft skin was suddenly burning his fingers like hellfire. 

“You must be thinking that I am a monster.” Jason started out dryly, chuckling bitterly, humorlessly even. He clenched his fists unconsciously and brought them to the floor in a fit of rage, missing your head by mere inches. Your heart was beating like crazy and you only hoped the mandman couldn’t hear it. “A freak.” The man spat out the word like it was a curse and for a split second his eyes softened before turning into two spinning torches. “Right?” You were sure that if looks could kill, his would have you dead by the end of the night so you quickly nodded your head no.

“You are lying to me again, pretty girl.” The brunette replied feisty, "pretty” rolling off his tongue like an insult. Then he broke into hoarse maniac laugher and lowered his head so his face leveled up with yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your tear - stained cheek. “When I am done with you, you wouldn’t be so pretty anymore, darling.” Your captor growled and attacked your neck, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh. “You will see exaclty how ugly my love is.”

[bigskydreaming]

I feel another fanon debunk session coming over me, and this one’s a BIG one. 

Let’s talk about the DickKory breakup, and why it happened.

Yup, we’re going there.

Before we get going though, I want to make one thing abundantly clear: this is NOT an invitation to bash on Kory. There will be no bashing of Kory on this post if I have anything to say about it, and its my post, so I do. So nyah nyah. But seriously like, don’t get my reasons for making this post wrong. I LOVE Kory. I SHIP Dick/Kory. And I don’t actually blame Kory for any of this, no matter how the page I’m about to show makes it appear, for reasons that I will get into later in this post, but like. I really truly don’t. I don’t think the Dick/Kory breakup ultimately was either of their fault. I think it was the painful end result of them both hitting rock bottom due to endless external fuckery with their lives and their minds during the tail end of their relationship, making it all but impossible for them to be there for each other the way they truly needed and WANTED to be....ultimately forcing them to break off and BOTH try and reorder their lives on their own. But IMO, this NEVER actually marked a dissolution of their feelings for each other, no matter what either (particularly Dick) eventually claimed in order to rationalize things to themselves.

I do however think some of the other Titans bear some culpability for not seeing things as they truly were here. I can understand given what they all went through during this time period like, how maybe it became easier to just blame Dick especially as he has a tendency to be so willing to accept blame? And so I think a lot of conclusions were jumped to that at other times they WOULD have spent more time thinking through. But here and now they didn’t simply because they were so relieved to HAVE an easy, simple explanation for things going wrong and someone to blame, someone who ACCEPTED blame. And thus more easily allowing them to speed through to the portion of events where they worked on ‘forgiving him’ for what he’d done so they could all move past it.

Okay, so let me stop talking in code for those of you who have only the faintest idea of what I’m talking about.

Traditional fanon states - and most wiki summaries I’ve seen actually CORROBORATE this, which drives me COMPLETELY up the wall because I would like to have WORDS with whomever wrote each of these wiki summaries - that ultimately, Dick and Kory broke up because they rushed into things with the wedding and both realized they weren’t actually ready to get married.

Let me be clear: this is totally and completely 100% true.

Fanon and wikis go ON however, to conclude that the ‘fault’ lies with Dick, because he was the one who jumped the gun in proposing, and that he only DID so, because he thought getting married would ‘help him finally grow up’ and ‘hit one of the milestones he thought he was missing while everyone else his age that he’d known in high school and stuff were graduating college and getting married and having kids right about now.’ And also that he eventually concluded that he didn’t actually love Kory the way he thought he did and needed to let her go for her sake.

Now let me also be clear: this is also MOSTLY true in the sense that he did eventually THINK these thoughts, some ten or fifteen issues after their crashed wedding, when he was off on his own and thinking through everything that was going on in his life and trying to make sense of the decisions he’d been making lately, most of which he was unhappy with.

The one part that ISN’T true is that last bit, which a lot of people extrapolate from and use as their basis for saying Dick ‘fell out of love with Kory’ and ‘realized that he no longer loved her the way he once had,’ with this leading into why they never got back together after Kory returned to Earth in the Titans revival series in the late 90s.

HOWEVER.

There’s a tiiiiiiiiiny little correction I must make to that last part, which might seem insignificant, but becomes ABUNDANTLY important when added to some other much needed - and much ignored overlooked - context:

Dick never ACTUALLY said or thought that he didn’t love Kory anymore, full stop. What he actually said, in its entirety, was that he realized “he never really loved Kory the way she deserved to be loved.”

Why is this distinction so important? Hang on just a sec, we’re almost there.

Now I would like to share with you, for those who have never seen this page or those who perhaps have forgotten it or its significance, the EXACT page where Dick proposes to Kory, from The New Titans #99, one issue before their wedding special in issue #100. (What’s that? You’re surprised that they got married the very issue after the proposal? You thought that they were engaged for a lengthier period of time? Ohhhh don’t worry, fair readers. We’ll get there. Ohhhh we’ll get there).

But first, those of you who have never actually read this page before, I would like you to take a look at it, and see if you can Where’s Waldo what it is about this page that makes my blood reach a boiling point in excess of 2000 degrees Fahrenheit every time someone utters the words “Dick rushed into marriage because he thought it would make him grow up or hit some important life milestone.”

Take a gander, what do you see:

See it? Get what I’m talking about?

Any talk of Dick and Kory breaking up because they weren’t ready to get married, and Dick having been the one to rush them into it before they were ready, COMPLETELY fails at accurately representing the events of that time if it fails to mention the fact that:

DICK ONLY PROPOSED WHEN HE DID BECAUSE HE WAS DESPERATE TO CONVINCE KORY, HIMSELF AND EVERYONE ELSE THAT HE LOVED HER AND ONLY HER AND SLEEPING WITH MIRAGE HAD MEANT NOTHING!

(Since, y’know, he didn’t actually sleep with her so much as he was raped by her).

I mean, your mileage may vary, but me, I happen to think that bit there is pretty CRITICAL FUCKING INTEL when it comes to this whole matter.

Claiming Dick is to blame because he rushed into marriage because he was looking to grow up or hit some milestone utterly FAILS as an analytical conclusion in EVERY POSSIBLE WAY....

When there is both ZERO indication from him BEFORE the proposal, that those are reasons or thoughts he has that has him leaning towards proposing.....

As well as ZERO reflection AFTER the failed wedding, that being desperate to convince everyone who thought he’d cheated on Kory that he really did love her, was at all a key motivating factor in him proposing when and how he did.

Like it or not, Mirage and the storyline surrounding that is utterly CRUCIAL to the DickKory breakup, because EVERY mention of that describes the cause of that breakup being rushing into marriage, and if you take away that storyline - and every character’s reaction to it - there is absolutely NO reason to even THINK Dick would still have proposed when he did.

And thus, leaving the Mirage story ENTIRELY out of all talk of the end of Dick and Kory’s relationship, is just....blatantly not indicative of what the story actually was.

Now, in addition, I know we tend to talk about this story as though DC sucks for never calling the rape what it was, and say that if DC’s not willing to treat these things as what they really are, they shouldn’t be using them as story points. First order of business: Yes DC sucks a lot and their handling of all this sucked.

BUT.

It is also not entirely accurate to say that they never TREATED this story as what it was.

Because while everyone else may have been fixated on it as Dick cheating on Kory....initially, at pretty much every point UNTIL the wedding....Dick at least was STEADFAST in not considering HIMSELF having cheated. I mean, look at his language in just the page above. He talks about being “repulsed” by what Mirage did. The writers might have never actually called what happened to Dick ‘rape,’ but initially they were VERY consistent in nevertheless writing him as someone who at least to some degree felt victimized by what happened, rather than culpable. He was trying to convince everyone ELSE to see it that way - until eventually he kinda gave up, and started to see it THEIR way. 

You can literally see him already starting to make the pivot towards rationalizing that POV to himself in the above page....he talks about ‘thinking with his hormones’ and that leading him to make a mistake, even though his hormones had nothing to do with whether what happened was wrong or not.....it was always entirely about: would he have consented to sex with Mirage IF he knew she wasn’t really Kory. Thinking with his hormones in no way addresses the fact that its completely unreasonable to expect anyone to be so on guard 24/7, even in the privacy of their own bedroom with their own girlfriend, that they have their eyes peeled for an impostor even there. 

In fact, imagine what the others would have all said if Dick hadn’t slept with Mirage that night, or else had confided in them later that it felt not right, that something was wrong, at some point BEFORE Mirage entered and told Dick in front of everyone that it had actually been her. How likely do you think it would have been that instead of taking Dick at face value, many of them would have instead viewed this as just another time Dick was exercising “Bat-paranoia” rather than allowing himself to be intimate with a loved one the way normal, non-Batfolk do, y’know? Do you think they would have automatically agreed with him that there was something up and he had reason to feel that ‘something wasn’t right about Kory’ when Dick probably still would have had no idea what for sure he felt was off, let alone that it wasn’t ACTUALLY her? Or would they have gotten on his case about how this is just him self-sabotaging again and letting his issues come between him and someone he cared about?

Tbh, one of the things that was greatest about Dick and Kory’s relationship IMO was that she was one of the best at getting him out of his own head. With Kory, when they weren’t both being jerked around by brainwashing plots and the like, Dick was better at just....letting go and just being himself around her. He didn’t feel like he had to constantly be on his guard or waiting for the other shoe to drop. Ironically, IMO, Dick DOES have a tendency to self-sabotage at times and let paranoia or other issues keep him from totally dropping his defenses and letting himself be vulnerable with other people.....meaning he probably would have been MORE likely to cue into something being off, if it had been anyone BUT Kory he’d been dating when Mirage replaced them.

So bottom line is, you can’t actually fully blame the writing for the others’ reactions to this story. Because whether they ever actually acknowledged it or not, for a good ten to fifteen issues up to the wedding, the writers pretty consistently depicted Dick as someone who was and felt victimized, even if he didn’t consciously realize it yet himself, let alone why. There were repeated moments between Kory initially breaking up with him after it happened through this proposal above, where it basically reads like Dick yelling “Ask me how violated I feel! Go on, ask me!” Except he never really got the chance because he was too busy replying to everyone around him that he hadn’t cheated on Kory, he thought he was WITH Kory, and that was the ONLY reason he had sex that night.

Slight tangent - this btw, is why I can never even get worked up enough about Nightwing Annual #2 to be like, defensive about it. That was the flashback issue written YEARS after all these events, where retroactively Andreyko inserted at some point between this proposal and the wedding - without changing anything else or the events he wrote ever being brought up or acknowledged again - a story where Dick went to visit Babs to personally deliver her wedding invitation....but only AFTER they slept together. And then when he gave her the invitation and she got furious about what had just happened, he just blithely said oh Kory won’t mind, and Babs was like yeah well I MIND!

Which was a totally valid reaction for Babs to have to those events as depicted, its just....I can’t remotely take them seriously, not when I’ve actually READ the events that by Andreyko’s own admission are meant to bookend that story. So you’re telling me, that right after Dick proposes to his longtime girlfriend SPECIFICALLY because he’s desperate to convince her he loves only her and would never willingly sleep with anyone else......he would go and sleep with someone else between then and the wedding? And then just without a hint of remorse say oh what’s the problem, Kory would be fine with it - when literally everything else about the wedding even HAPPENING was based on the fact that he knew for a fact that Kory would NOT in fact, be fine with that? Umm, make it make sense, except you can’t, because that story and the point where it makes sense are in two entirely different galactic quadrants. Green Lanterns couldn’t make it from Point A to Point B. So lol, sorry not sorry, I’m gonna stay not taking that story or claims that Dick is ACTUALLY a cheater, like, remotely seriously. I mean, your mileage may vary, but I especially don’t think anyone who can make excuses for Bruce’s many transgressions being OOC like, has any business trying to pass this particular story off as in character, but WHATEVS. Like, you CAN do it if you really want to, but I mean, I’m just gonna think that’s silly. I’ll be like OMG you’re so silly. Why are you so silly, can we just stop with all the silliness. And then like, I’ll go do something else or whatever. 

(Oh and for the record, the wedding was the issue after Dick proposed, but it wasn’t meant to be like, the day after or anything. BUT we do know it was still pretty damn soon after, like at most a week or two....because the concurrent storyline was Roy being upset because the government was trying to shut down the Titans and said they would unless Roy took leadership from Dick and ousted him, which Roy understandably was NOT keen to do, even and especially with everything going on as the Titans were a family first and foremost and he was stuck between trying to preserve them and keep them going and betraying everything they stood for by basically instigating a vote of no confidence in Dick’s leadership.....but point being, Roy kept stalling the government agent asking for his answer......when said agent was very impatient, and asked repeatedly both in issue #99 AND issue #100. So you’re never going to convince me Roy managed to stall said agent for months or whatever, or any longer than a couple weeks at most, to allow for Dick and everyone else to put together a shotgun wedding for him and Kory. Which just further adds to the make it make sense aspect of the above mentioned Annual, but I absofuckinglutely digress).

Anyway. 

NOW, let’s bring it back around to when I said like, don’t do the thing, don’t actually blame Kory for any of this, don’t you do it? /paraphrase

Yeah. So we’re there at that point now, and I reiterate once more for the court, like, hey, what if you just don’t? Y’know? Even if you’re looking at her dialogue in the above page I posted and are like, I’m feeling the urge, the urge to.....idk something that rhymes with urge but is bad I guess? Whatever. Just like. Don’t do it. Say nasty things about Kory because of this story three times in front of your computer and I will totally like, be conjured by that and crawl out of your screen all creepy girl from The Ring style. It will NOT be pretty. I am NOT meant to fit through there. I can NOT make it look good. You have been warned.

Okay so like, the reason I say none of this is on Kory even though I don’t make the same distinctions for the other Titans is threefold. No, lbr, its probably more on account of I can’t count and I’m always wrong about this shit. But let’s start with three.

1) The first thing we need to address is the fact that Dick WAS acting erratically and out of character through all of this time, even before what happened with Mirage. This was still in the near aftermath of Titans Hunt, and he was still reeling from that, and holding himself totally accountable. People who’ve followed me for awhile have probably seen me fixate on Titans Hunt before, but I honestly don’t think anyone who hasn’t read the full extent of comics from that storyline all the way through like....The New Titans #115 or so, like.....truly grasps the extent of just HOW much that single storyline affected Dick. He was at rock bottom because of it in a way that is probably only truly comparable with the Blockbuster storyline, but for even LONGER. Like the span of comics I referenced just now covers probably like....almost fifty issues. 

That’s fifty issues where Dick consistently brings up his failure to stop that and how much Joey and Charlie and Arella and everyone else’s deaths during that like, just weighs on him, and fucks with his confidence and just.....his overall sense of purpose and self. He WAS lost and aimless for a lot of that time. And he DID absolutely even recognize HIMSELF that it was affecting him. Like ten issues or so after the crashed wedding, when he’s on his own journey of self-discovery while looking for Kory in the Amazon (uh yeah, that’s a thing. I’ll get to that)....like, he acknowledges to himself that ever since the Titans Hunt he’s been getting crazier and more demanding (his words) and he doesn’t even recognize himself anymore...and he attributes all of that to not having come to terms with their deaths and his inability to prevent them. 

Now, notably, he DOESN’T ever at this time acknowledge that his behavior took an INCREASINGLY downward spiral ever since Mirage and specifically due to everyone blaming him for what he deep down felt wasn’t actually his fault but was losing conviction in. And quite frankly, even though he SAYS at this point he’s ready to move on from their losses, I don’t think that actually happened, but I’ll get back to both those things. First, the important point here, in terms of Kory, is that from her perspective, Dick had been increasingly unpredictable and not himself ever since the losses during Titans Hunt. Actually, given that she was the one who went with him to the Manor after Jason’s death and the only one who saw him come in and out and who thus knows the full extent of what transpired there - with this all happening not long before Titans Hunt - you could additionally say her awareness of that also has her almost prepared to expect the totally unexpected from Dick at this point.

Does that mean its right? No. But it does mean that its there.

2) Next. Kory was not actually offered the chance by the storyline to internalize what happened between Mirage and Dick from a stable, grounded headspace. Mirage KIDNAPPED Kory and replaced her before she slept with Dick. In the grand scheme of things, what happened to Kory specifically here is probably far from the worst thing that’s ever happened to her, but it couldn’t have been pleasant and I’m the first to yell NO TRAUMA OLYMPICS so in that spirit, fuck whether it was as bad as it COULD have been, and again, just acknowledge that it happened, and its reasonable and expected that it would have a negative effect on Kory. She was targeted and victimized by Mirage too. Not in the same way as Dick, but add that to the fact that unlike the other Titans, she was the one IN the relationship with Dick and thus the only one besides him that had a stake in what Mirage’s actions served as a catalyst for in that regard, like....she was not an impartial bystander to all this, and that needs to be considered. She was PART of it. It was her life that was hijacked by all this too.

3) Third.....it is extremely extremely EXTREMELY important here to acknowledge that Kory is herself a rape survivor. She has extensive trauma from her childhood in the Citadel, and that is bound to color her perceptions of what happened here, at least initially. I am 174% soooooo not here for vilifying another rape survivor in defense of a different rape survivor. Like, I’m just saying.....do not throw Kory under the bus for not acknowledging Dick’s trauma and trauma responses as a rape survivor in this story if you’re not also YOURSELF acknowledging Kory’s OWN trauma as a rape survivor.

This is key not because it says any opinions she had at this time don’t count, but rather that they simply don’t come from the same place as the VICTIM-BLAMING that is the central issue with others holding Dick accountable for his own rape. In Kory’s case, we have to consider the issue of projection. The ways in which her own experiences and how they’ve informed her DEFAULT perception of something that deeply affected her, might skew her initial reaction to experiences which share a LABEL, but not specific ELEMENTS.

What I mean here is both Kory and Dick, as of this point in time, are rape survivors. But they survived very very VERY different kinds of rape. Both were abundantly clear that they DID NOT WANT what happened to them, that they were not willing parties to what actually transpired....but what springs to Kory’s mind when someone says “I didn’t want the sex that happened” is understandably going to look VERY different from what Dick was describing when he said “I didn’t want the sex that happened.” So its not really all that unreasonable for Kory to hold those two things up in her head and say these are not the same, and from there jump to the unfortunate conclusion that Dick HAD wanted it on some level, else it would have looked more like her own experiences...especially because others around them were already voicing and affirming this opinion in various ways. 

Again, is this fair, or deserved? No. But I talk all the time with other characters and with Dick himself about how its just not reasonable to expect characters - especially ones with highly CHARGED emotions related to their own parallel experiences - to act from an unbiased state or POV and thus leap to the most ideal conclusion without at least first stumbling through some other ones. So with Kory, her own context with rape simply CAN NOT be divorced from the fact that recognizing the central issue of this later moment in time was that it was a rape. Her own experiences and the likely projection of them onto the moment at hand add a degree of context to conclusions she arrived at that other characters simply do not have....and thus, again, its not okay to paint her with the same brush as all those characters. And unless you’re already somehow making a distinction as to why her reaction is different from others despite superficially appearing the same......then like. You need to be. LOL. 

4) The other factor that’s important to consider here is that just like Kory was never offered the chance to RECEIVE information of what happened from a relatively grounded place and headspace....the stories never gave her any real time to think things through, process over time, and arrive at different conclusions from her earlier ones. Again, I talk all the time about how Dick’s experiences with the Titans pre-his time in Bludhaven were colored by multiple instances of brainwashing and his head being fucked with and being personally targeted and jerked around in a ton of ways? The same is true of Kory, and it needs to be given equal weight.

Their wedding was crashed by ‘the dark soul self’ of Raven - who they thought was dead - as she infected Kory with what she called a demon seed that was going to grow a new demon inside of her. Due to her possession, Kory spent weeks in a mental institutition, trying to overcome the entity inside her (with Dick sitting by her side and holding her hand through all of it, just FYI). When she finally did purge the entity from her, Kory took off and ended up in a village in the Amazon, with the ordeal having given her amnesia. Dick went after her, but he’d only just tracked her down when she took off again to foil an alien invasion using radio waves that she was uniquely suited to recognize due to being familiar with their tactics, but which pitted her against most of the rest of the world in like, the Ultimate Gaslighting Showdown as everyone kept telling her she was crazy (she was wearing a tinfoil hat to protect herself from the transmissions, the writers were deliberately not doing her any favors). 

Only after that was foiled did she regain her memories, and while off the page she agreed to meet with Dick to talk about their failed wedding and everything that happened afterward, as he’d returned from the Amazon by now, where he’d ultimately come to his own self-realizations about everything (or what we were told to accept were his realizations)....in the end she took off for Tamaran without meeting him, leaving him waiting where they’d agreed to rendezvous. Again, I say this not to vilify Kory, because I absolutely think she made the best choice for herself at the time, and should have, and I don’t think Dick has ever blamed her for that and tbh they both separately came to the same decisions about needing to be apart to recollect themselves and figure out who they were and where to go from here, like, without having to actually talk it out to arrive at the same point. I DO raise this point simply to put out there that in contrast to many other things I’ve seen said about the break up......they....never technically broke up?

Like I mean, don’t get me wrong. They DID. They both considered themselves broken up and eventually moved on with other people, Dick with Babs, and Kory with a general who she married back on New Tamaran before it was destroyed by the Sun Eater (again, Kory went through some SHIT after their break up. Dick wasn’t the only one.) But I just mean like.....it was LITERALLY the most mutual break-up that is possible for a break-up to be, because neither one of them ever actually communicated their intent to the other in order for them to both CLEARLY be on the same page. There was no “Dick called off the wedding” - that never actually happened, it was just....never revisited. There was no “Dick told her he no longer had feelings for her” - that was something that happened later, and yes, I’ll get to that too. OMG shut up me. But also shh I’m talking. 

But yeah like.....their break-up, despite being almost universally claimed as Dick’s choice and responsibility, with zero mention of Mirage’s role in it in any official accounting of it I’VE ever seen, and with Kory painted as being the victim of Dick’s wandering ways and not knowing what he wanted in the distant aftermath of their break-up, as it was said that due to being Tamaranean, she loved for life and thus would always be in love with Dick even though he after her return claimed he no longer loved her (like, I don’t blame Kory but I also don’t like takes that act like Dick DID all this to Kory somehow. Like that’s literally the entire point here, neither of them needs to be to blame or each other’s victim according to how the story ACTUALLY went).....

But yeah, despite all that.....it really was the most mutually arrived at decision ever, because neither one of them actually EVER EVEN SAID ‘WE NEED TO BREAK UP��� to the other. They both just....ended up there on their own. 

(And also because DC wanted them there in order to secure the rest of their push to put Nightwing solely back in the Batbooks for the next several years. With, don’t forget, this all coinciding with the government forcing him out of the Titans and putting Roy in charge and with this all culminating in Dick having his initial adventure in Bludhaven at Bruce’s ask, and then deciding to make that his new base of operations and kinda reinvent himself there, at the start of his solo title. Again, shout out to the myth of “Dick Grayson always runs from things because commitment issues” - not only did he NOT flee to Bludhaven because he just changed his mind about the wedding and said whoops sorry Kory, it wasn’t even his CHOICE to leave the Titans, even if eventually he agreed it was for the best right now. His ex went back to her home planet and he was asked to leave his team. Why the fuck WOULDN’T he go somewhere else?)

NEXT. (jfc he mumbled to himself under his breath. what the fuck did I start here).

Circling back around AGAIN, this time back to Dick’s STATED reasons for deciding things were over.

Two...umm, fuck it, ‘a number that is more than one’ things that need to be kept in mind HERE:

1) The most crucial bit of context when examining Dick’s journey of self-exploration in the Amazon while searching for Kory and what he comes to say and think about everything that’s happened and his own behavior....

Is that he is an EXTREMELY unreliable narrator at this point in time. Y’know how we talk about Dick having that tendency to take on more accountability than is actually earned and is way quicker to view himself as in need of apologizing than he is to view others needing to do that for him?

Yeah I mean, that’s a thing, I definitely have like a billion citations ready to go on a moment’s notice, but point is, being aware of that tendency means absolutely nothing if you don’t actively APPLY that awareness to Dick’s periods of self-reflection and like....compare and contrast what he THINKS about things he’s said or done with like....what he’s ACTUALLY said or done.

For instance, on the way to his so-called epiphanies about all this, he makes the claim that the entire time Kory was dealing with the demon entity inside of her, he was being so selfish because all he was doing was wishing she would wake up or be free of it so that she could help him with his problems instead. (And just for the record, I can provide actual panels for everything I reference in this post, I’m just limiting myself to a couple because I’m just trying to NOT beat War and Peace’s pagecount as it is. Will I succeed? No. Did I try? Yes.)

Now, Dick spending his time at his possessed fianceé’s side doing nothing but wishing she would snap out of it and focus on his problems instead.....is that selfish of him?

Well, yeah.

But is it TRUE?

I mean, you tell me:

This is right smack dab in the middle of that whole storyline, set only a few issues after the crashed wedding, and before Kory successfully evicts the demon entity and loses her memories. This is literally what Dick was ACTUALLY like the entire time. At the TIME, every single thing he said and did was focused on her.....the CLOSEST he came even in his internal monologue, to making it all about him, was him thinking about how this has shown him just how much he needs her.

Do people helping a loved one through something traumatic occasionally have selfish thoughts where their awareness of their own troubles momentarily supersedes their focus on their loved one? Yeah. Does this actually make them selfish if their ACTUAL focus and actions and words are aimed entirely at their loved ones the whole time, with no single actual detour to “hey, while you’re up, can we talk about me for a sec”?

Mmmmm....I feel like no, but I am open to you drawing other conclusions as long as you are aware that they are wrong and mine is right, kay. I mean okay, fine. You can disagree with me here but I’m still gonna disagree about your disagreement there and its just gonna be this whole big thing and its like, ugh, whatever, y’know?

But hey, you do you.

ANYWAY, point is, unless you draw the wrong conclusion here in which case PTTTHB!, like, I think its safe to say Dick thinking in the midst of his self-awareness deep dive that he was being nothing but selfish during that whole story and thus didn’t deserve Kory, like....whether or not the writers are actually AWARE of it or not, I mean......that’s still a pretty good context clue that his internal monologues at this point in time are maybe a little bit skewed towards being more about accepting blame than reflecting reality, right? Yes, no, maybe so?

Well then again, if you agree with me, then add to that awareness the added bit of trivia that every single other one of Dick’s ‘ultimate realizations’ (he just wanted to get married because he thought it would bring stability to his life, it would help him grow up, hit one of those aforementioned milestones, etc)....like every single one of them.....was an opinion that was FIRST offered by one of the other Titans. 

Every. Single. One.

(Wanted to get married for the stability was something Donna said she thought was his reasoning, to the other original Titans. The bit about thinking it would help him grow up was unfortunately ALSO Donna, but said to Kory before the wedding when Kory asked if she thought this was a mistake and if she thought Dick had proposed for the right reasons. The milestones thing was said by either Roy, Garth or Wally, I honestly forget which, but it was when the three of them went out to discuss the pending government takeover of the team and how to break this to Dick with everything else going on).

And with not a SINGLE one of these opinions present in ANY of Dick’s internal monologues BEFORE the proposal, hinting that they were anywhere near being on his radar at THAT point.

So....which makes more narrative sense? That Dick ultimately just realized that everything he THOUGHT was motivating him when he proposed was NOT true and that it was only his friends that clued into his actual reasons, which he must have overheard at some point and internalized in order to have replicated said opinions in his thoughts so exactly? Again with ZERO mention alongside any of this, that peoples’ views of what happened with Mirage was at ALL a factor in his thinking?

Or.....does it maybe better track, that over the course of Dick repeatedly expressing that he didn’t know it wasn’t Kory, that he never wanted to cheat on her, that he loved her and only her and would never knowingly do that....with NO ONE budging and everyone from Kory to all of his best friends acting like his adulterous guilt was an over and done with conclusion and they’d already long since moved on to the point of how willing or not they were to forgive him, based on everything else he’d been going through.....and with Dick thinking that how remorseful he appeared to be and how willing to ACCEPT accountability was likely to play a part in how much people were willing to look past all his recent fuck-ups here.......

Does it maaaaaaaybe actually make a little bit more sense that Dick’s total 180 into taking full responsibility and coming up with all these rationalizations for his actions that essentially just mimic theories everyone else had for his behavior has more to do with his deeply internalized acceptance that nobody was listening to his side of the story or what he was actually trying to say (without even real SELF awareness at the time that what he was feeling wasn’t just ‘I’m innocent of what you’re accusing me of’ but ‘I was violated and used’)?

That it was more about him finding ways to justify to himself getting on the same page everyone else ALREADY seemed to be on in regards to him and his recent behavior, as that seemed to be the only way to move forward, that he was tired of fighting everybody and feeling like he was in the wrong for it so honestly, maybe they were right?

Because from there.....

Its only a veeeeeery short hop, skip and a jump from “well I guess I DID do what they say and I SHOULD have known it wasn’t Kory”.....to.....”since the only thing I kept clinging to for how I couldn’t know was my insistence that I truly loved Kory, and it turns out that I still SHOULD have known anyway......doesn’t that mean that I didn’t really love Kory the way I thought I did? Or as much as I thought I did?”

“Did I never really love Kory as much as she deserved?”

Cuz uh, remember earlier when I talked about it being significant that Dick never ACTUALLY claimed during this time that he didn’t love Kory anymore or fell out of love with her or anything like that, but rather that his precise claim was “I didn’t love her AS MUCH AS SHE DESERVED”?

Aka.....”enough that I would have known it wasn’t actually Kory that I was with?”

Yeah. Uh, that. That’s the significance there. Yeah. So....

2) Now as to something else to keep in mind in regards to Dick’s eventual ‘self-realizations’ - this calls back to when I said earlier that Dick WAS acting erratically during this time, stemming all the way back to the Titans Hunt aftermath. He was overly aggressive, he was ready to fight anyone at a moment’s notice, he was tunnel-visioned.....in short, he was actually quite a lot how the fanon interpretations of his temper I rage about usually depict him. But the key thing here, and the reason why I wouldn’t have a problem with people drawing references from THIS time when talking about him behaving this way.....

Is that much like when Dick was behaving erratically during the Brother Blood storyline, it was with NARRATIVE INTENT.

There, Dick’s behavior led to the reveal that he was lashing out because he was fighting the Church of Blood’s mental conditioning. Here, Dick’s behavior is directly tied to his downward spiral resulting from the trauma of Titans Hunt and his guilt from that.

In both cases, I’d have zero issue with people referencing specific instances of this behavior....

As long as they ALSO reference and acknowledge the specific narrative context that was directly CONNECTED to that behavior. Its not about whether or not it excuses any specific thing he does, its about the fact that while these behaviors did happen, they shouldn’t be depicted as indicative of his OVERALL characterization, because they were specifically and deliberately written into his actions WITH INTENT by the writers, who were trying to use his DELIBERATELY out of the ordinary behavior to arrive at some narrative point or conclusion.

And here, for Dick, that was the eventual realization that he’d never fully dealt with his feelings about the losses during the Titans Hunt.

I don’t like how he acts in a lot of the issues around this time. Its ugly. But its MEANT to be ugly. I don’t like Dick’s fight with Roy when he tells him about taking over leadership because of the government’s interference. I don’t like it AT ALL. 

But what I DO like is how the very next page after the fight, after Donna follows Dick out of the room, Dick turns around and acknowledges how out of control he’d just been and said he felt it proved that everyone was right, things HAD gotten to him more than he’d realized or admitted to himself, and it probably was a sign he needed to take a step back, and besides, Kory needed him more than the team did right now anyway.

THAT’S one of the core things I like about Dick Grayson, that almost without exception, his worst actions or behaviors are almost immediately followed by his realization of this and a tangible action or change in his actions to address it. That’s not something every character can claim - in fact, its unfortunately pretty damn rare.

But here’s the problem with that, in this specific scenario:

Dick WAS spiraling, he DID act out in ways he was right to be called out on and to feel guilt about, and there WAS basis for him acknowledging that there was stuff he needed to address in his life and his head, and to take responsibility for.

Thing is though, nobody else at any point ever stood up to point to where in his willingness to hold himself accountable for his mistakes and try and do better in regards to his friends and teammates and overall relationships....

He additionally took on guilt that WASN’T deserved. Because the other Titans were the ones who in their overall rush to judgment about his behavior and the reasons why.....still erroneously lumped in with the rest, their conclusion as to how the situation with Mirage should be viewed.

And frankly, though this doesn’t make them look good, there’s plenty of places you can go with that which don’t make them heartless monsters either. They were wrong, not to listen to him about Mirage, and I maintain that this tangibly WORSENED his already existing downward spiral from Titans Hunt, because that was already stuff he really could have benefited from support for the others from....and then this other thing happened that he additionally really needed support about, rather than blame.

Problem is, the overall impression given off by the other Titans was that they thought they already WERE doing their best to be supportive, by being so willing to look PAST ‘what Dick had done with Mirage’ and FORGIVE Dick for that, make allowances for why it and other decisions they didn’t agree with, like his rush to marriage, might make sense based on what they were attributing as the reason for his out of character behavior....the fallout from Titans Hunt...but ONLY that.

Like to be clear, I’m aware that there is a flip side of things in fanon, where some stans overcorrect on Dick’s behalf and act like the Titans all universally slut-shamed Dick and were terrible to him. No. That’s not what happened either. There was ONE slut-shaming Titan and ONLY one....and that was Pantha, who to be frank, like.....she was literally written to be the button pusher in regards to everyone. She likely would have said the same thing no matter who was in that situation, because she honestly didn’t care, she was just interested in making the cheap jokes at their expense.

The other Titans though did not adopt a slut-shaming stance against Dick...just a victim-blaming one. Which makes some things better, but some things worse IMO.

Its easier to understand how they could have all fallen into this trap despite all being seasoned heroes who should have known better than to view these specific events the way they did....if you consider that their fatal flaw here was ironically that they were SO quick to try and find a reason that Dick might have done this that they felt they could forgive....that they never actually thought things through long enough to recognize how quick on the draw they’d been in their reactions. And then they failed to listen to Dick’s side of things because they’d kinda convinced themselves that they were ALREADY doing him a favor and hearing him out by having decided to look past what he’d done and make allowances for it....and so they kinda filtered everything he was saying through a lens of like...waiting for him to catch up to what they’d already decided had happened and onto the part where he did the Dick Grayson thing and apologized and accepted responsibility for it....at which point they, as his friends, would be honestly able to say “already forgiven, dude.”

You could additionally factor in the idea that their very respect for his capabilities and high opinion of his overall ‘on the ball-ness’ made what had happened easy to view as something that’d just slipped past his radar, a rare oversight that again, he could be forgiven for, rather than what it was....again, something that he should never have been expected to ‘catch’ in the first place, any more than they would have been.

Either way, the real problem was always just that they failed to support him in the ways he actually needed, because they were already busy forgiving him for things he didn’t actually need forgiveness for because they were never his to accept blame for in the first place. But then BECAUSE Dick was already primed to accept the blame for what he WAS right to accept responsibility for, he overextended and took on everything that was held against him, rather than first differentiating between where a mea culpa both was and WAS NOT due.

No matter how you slice it, the Titans WERE wrong on this front, and Dick absolutely DOES have canon grounds to nurse some bitterness and resentment about, towards them. Again, with a lot of ways that can be approached. Personally, when I think about fics tackling this subject, my big want is always gonna be like.....confrontation fics? Like that’s what I’ve always really wanted to see here....like there’s a lot of obviously valid catharsis to be had in fics that have someone walk Dick through what a more objective view of what happened back then and let him finally unburden himself of all that unearned guilt there...BUT all the focus there is typically on that realization of the truth for DICK, that like....there’s almost never any follow-up where that realization is further pursued and extended to the relevant Titans? And tbh, I’ve always viewed that as the far greater ‘crime’ this story executed in regards to Dick’s character....not an overall obliviousness to his own victimization, period, but the fact that he was basically pushed into ACCEPTING a culpable view of events when actually, he’d always KNOWN on some level that it wasn’t really his fault and he had every reason to feel repulsed and angry and violated.

Like, I do obviously view Dick as someone with a large degree of self-awareness, in no small part due to how often he DOES do these introspective deep dives and reflect on events and actions and behaviors, and even though I understand the viewpoint that things look different when applied to yourself than to others, I do think its perfectly likely that Dick would at some point come to his own realization about what had actually happened with Mirage and why he’d initially felt the way he did about it. Maybe not before the events with Tarantula, but in the aftermath? I think he absolutely would connect certain things then, even if just because of how FAMILIAR everything felt to that earlier time post-Titans Hunt. The Blockbuster arc was like, the most rock bottom Dick had ever been SINCE that point, and various similarities could have definitely been pinging all over for him....the losses he suffered reminding him of his guilt for the fallen Titans, the end of Dick and Babs’ relationship, while based on more reasons than just Tarantula kissing Dick, like, still including that as a reason and so thus bearing an uncomfortable similarity to the last time he was held accountable for his rapist and now eventual rapist’s actions, etc.

And I do think that Dick having some realizations of his own post-Blockbuster could explain a LOT about his later interactions with the Titans, who I honestly don’t think he was ever quite as close to again?

Which makes a ton of sense if you view the 1999 series, and how difficult it was for them to get Dick to join up, and how he was plenty ready to leave at any point...like, that makes a TON of sense if you consider that Dick might have at this point been quietly nursing hurt of his own that everyone was so eager and willing to let bygones be bygones and ‘forgive’ his mistakes of the past, that nobody still had ever realized what he’d had to realize all on his own....that THEY all had a perception of events and like, their friendships, that included forgiving Dick for a betrayal that Dick NEVER ACTUALLY ENACTED. Where its like, thanks, but I didn’t actually need that, what I needed was someone to listen to me. But at the same time its totally understandable why he wouldn’t ever want to bring that up himself....because he’d already TRIED expressing himself on this matter years before, and been shot down, and its totally reasonable that he worried history would just repeat there rather than bring him the closure he WANTED on that front. But again....the distance he keeps a lot of the Titans at after his return to the team pairs pretty damn well with him being both quietly resentful of forgiveness he never needed and wondering when it was everyone else’s turn to accept the accountability for wrongs done that everyone was always so quick to demand from him....as well as why the last thing in the world he’d want to do is bring this all up again himself.

Similarly, this is why I think he always expressed to Kory, ever since her return to Earth, that he wasn’t in love with her anymore.....I don’t think its necessarily true that his feelings ever fully went away, and I also don’t think he’d bear the same resentments towards her that he did the others, even though Kory too ‘forgave’ him for something he never needed absolution for. Because I think at the same time, he’s more aware than most of Kory’s own history, and he has too much empathy for what all that likely stirred up for her at the time as well as his awareness that she really did love him and always had and that she’d mourned their relationship just as much as he had. 

So I truly don’t think Dick blames her, in ways that can’t be said of the others, and I don’t think it was truly that he didn’t love her anymore, or that there was no longer anything there....I think he always just said that in order to protect himself, because he was still hurting from everything that had happened back then and how everyone had always painted it as his fault ever since, and his own traumas had only compounded those very specific feelings with later events like Tarantula and her impact on his life, and its just like......I think if it ever came out via someone else re-raising the issue, Dick would be like okay, yes, absolutely let’s finally talk about this....but I totally understand why Dick would never want to re-raise it himself because....he definitely did TRY to express his violation way back when. Why should he be the one to have to essentially.....retry his own case with his friends in order to finally get the verdict he should have had all along, y’know? 

Its one thing to get that its probably never going to happen without initiating it himself, but its another thing for that to get you past the hump of just not wanting to relive some of your worst moments when your best friends not believing in you or being so willing to believe something about you in some ways did just as much damage to you as the actual initial violation.

But again, all that said, I would absolutely like, rob the Louvre (Okay I’d also rob the Louvre just for money but like. You get it) for stories where one of the Titans has an ‘oh shit’ realization about everything with Mirage years later. And they tentatively try and bring it up with Dick in the hopes of ‘fixing things’ by correcting the damage they’d done when making him feel it was his to accept blame on.....and for Dick to just be like. “Yeah, uh, I was there. I figured all that out a long time ago, I just didn’t see the point in trying to convince everybody twice.” And them like....being like oh crap we have to figure out a way to make things right, like all this time we’ve thought things were kinda broken between us because of what Dick did but actually it was the other way around and about Dick’s feelings about what WE did.

Okay now like....don’t laugh but I’m literally still not done, because I had this whole other thing about how now we needed to finally talk about the Zitka in the room, which is that IMO its always been kinda backwards to view Tarantula as the focal point of Dick’s traumas here and what happened with Mirage as some kind of footnote kinda....personally I think it should be the other way around. That its Mirage that weighs on Dick the most because what she did was premeditated where with Catalina it was a crime of opportunity. With Miriam though, it was always going to happen no matter what, because it only happened because she MADE it happen. She like....stalked Dick pretty much from the time of her arrival in this timeline (or at least how that initially was viewed - the timeline thing, not the stalking thing. Forget it. Weird story is weird. Doesn’t matter). But like....Mirage went after Dick with intent. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she was willing to do whatever to make it happen, up to and including kidnapping Dick’s actual girlfriend and taking her place.

With Tarantula, like, she was more than quick to seize on the first opportunity to make it happen, but like...that’s still a different thing IMO from like...KNOWING that someone literally plotted out and premeditated one of the most disruptive traumas of your life without any care for what it would DO to your life, and you later carrying all the blame for that in everyone else’s eyes without anyone ever acknowledging what it did to YOU....even though MULTIPLE people know and its even affected your overall reputation. With Tarantula....I think that trauma absolutely compounded everything else that happened with Blockbuster but it was hardly limited to just that, but again with Mirage....that one specific act pretty much derailed the entire course of Dick’s life at the time. Because again....while you could absolutely claim that there are other issues Dick and Kory might have broken up because of later, even without Mirage’s actions, like....you have to MAKE the case for those reasons. You can’t just attribute their breakup to rushing into marriage, when again....Mirage was the literal catalyst for Dick proposing when he did.

Which again, to bring it all back to the start.....that’s why it will forever make me channel Gar Logan and turn into a green-hued screeching howler monkey every time people are like I absolutely agree that its not okay to blame Dick for his own rape at Mirage’s hands....but then turn around and be like okay, but Dick and Kory did break up because Dick rushed them into marriage before they were ready.

Cuz.

Like.

THEY’RE THE EXACT SAME THING!

The one is just the other but described from a different vantage point.

faslkfhaklfhaklfhkalfha

I get if people didn’t know that before now, but please please please can we like....push back against the misinformation on this particular topic because omggggg is it unpleasant to repeatedly hear people contradict themselves in the same paragraphs half the time because they literally don’t know that they’re talking about the same events in both cases.

Believe it or not, I actually had a lot more about Mirage and about other ways things could have gone differently for Dick and Kory if he’d had even just a little more support from someone else at the time, whether from Bruce or even just one of the Titans, like all it would have taken was just ONE person to try and view things from Dick’s perspective and be like okay everyone hold up, some bad fucking conclusions have been arrived at here.

BUT I am tired and this is long and literally just...whatever. I’ll do that some other time. LOL. And I bounce.

[binniesthighs]

❆on a winter’s day | reader x hyunjin |❆

Pairing: self insert, female reader x hwang hyunjin

Genre: the fluffiest smut

Tags: confident!reader, shy!hyunjin, extrovert!reader, introvert!hyunjin, virgin!hyunjin, dancer!reader, dancer!hyunjin minho and jisung side characters, minsung if you turn your head upside down, slow burn, that sweet sweet build up, first time, meet cute, college au, sexual tension, mentions of food, praising, oral (m&f recieving), marking, fingering (f recieving), protected sex, aftercare, hyunjin is the softest boi in this one

Word count: 4.3k

Requested: By a lovely anon! You can read the original ask/post right before this one! 

“and five, six, seven, eight!”

The cool of the hardwood flooring beneath your tired heels squeaked from the movement of twenty dancers throwing their bodies to the left. Each and every one of you were reflected in the mirror in front of you: bodies twisting like the curl of a ribbon and arms outstretched. You winced as your knee hit the ground and you hurled your body into a type of somersault. As soon as you were back on your feet, you bent your spine backwards reaching out as far behind you as you could. For a couple moments, the whole world was turned upside down.

It was then when you saw him. His silver hair was tied up, and his brow glistened with sweat. There was nothing else in his eyes other than pure focus.

It was breathtaking.

one, two, you counted in your head.

Next came the hardest part.    

Everyone leapt in sync, creating a resonating thud once you all landed.

Thank God that you landed it that time. To your right, your friend Minho scoffed slightly, likely teasing you for finally jumping at the same time as everyone else.

three, four

The group crashed down to the floor again, this time you had to use all your strength to roll, then pull yourself up without help from your hands. You had been practicing it for weeks.

You could feel Minho’s eyes boring into you while you attempted.  

You were able to do it, but it wasn’t nearly as fluid as him. How had you never noticed how amazingly his body flowed?

“and five, six!” Your instructor clapped. The music faded as you all sunk down to the floor again, trying to make it appear as if you were dissipating into it. “Very good job everyone!” She beamed and applauded you all who finally let your heaving breaths be heard. “Excellent improvement from you all!”

You couldn’t even stand up from the floor you were so exhausted. The aggressive florescent lights burned your eyes and you considered taking a nap right there.

“You did it!” A foot kicked you. Looming over you were your two friends Minho and Jisung shoving towels onto each other’s faces. “Were you counting like I told you to do?” Minho expectantly leaned in.

“yes,” You answered a little annoyed, not as much at him, but at yourself. You could have done even better.

“We told you that you could do it. It’s just the mental block man.” Jisung offered you a hand up.

Once you were vertical again, a little wave of dizziness hit you.

“Wanna go out to celebrate?”

Your usual friend group circled around you with their bags in hand.

“Finally got it this time, L/n?” They patted you on the back. Besides hip-hop being your specialty in a contemporary class, you still seemed to get along with everyone easily. On the first day of class when you literally announced that you didn’t want to be there, everyone warmed up to you pretty quickly. You didn’t want to lie and pretend that you were all about throwing your body around like that. Of course you thought contemporary was beautiful, just not your thing. Graduation requirements said otherwise.

“Do you need me to carry you outta here?” Jisung joked at your dazed expression. Truthfully, your head was still spinning a little.

“Only very certain people get to carry me Han Jisung, and unfortunately you are not one of them.” You quipped back, and a few of your friends snarked chuckles at him.

He put his hands up in defeat. “I was just offering.”

Across the room, your eyes found him again. He had put his bag a bit of ways away from everyone else’s. He guzzled down his water, bobbing his sharp Adam’s apple. He then tore his hair tie out and ruffled his hair around which was damp at the roots. Everything that he did was so effortless.

“Hey,” you nudged Minho, “You know who he is?”

“Him? That’s Hwang Hyunjin. I dunno much about him, he’s pretty quiet, I haven’t heard much about him within the school either. Amazing dancer though. Have you seen him?”

“Yeah...”

Hyunjin pulled a black pullover past his head.

“You coming with us?” Minho snapped you back.

“No-uh, I think that I’m gonna stay a little while.”

“Suit yourself, I know that it’s gonna be delicious.” He teased and turned to throw his arm around Jisung while the group walked out.

The silvery-haired boy zipped up his bag as if he was near leaving. Your throat became unexplainably tight. Your legs started moving towards him before you could tell them to.

“You popped up behind him. “Hyunjin, right?”

He whipped around startled, with his gorgeous brown eyes widening. “...yes?”

“I wanted to tell you that I saw you dancing today and you’re really good. It looks like its so easy for you. I wish that I could be like that.”

“Oh...thank you.” He gave you a kind smile.

shit, he was so cute.

“Soooo, what’s your secret?” You attempted to keep him there for just a moment longer.

“My secret?” His eyes became puzzled.

“Yeah, like, to how you’ve gotten so good?”

“I just...practice.”

“Huh...”

The door to the practice room clicked one last time and the two of you were alone.

“I noticed that all of your moves flow really nicely to the next, you’re not stiff at all, it’s like your body never stops evolving with the motions.”

“thank you...” Hyunjin hushed shyly and twiddled with his hair.

“Maybe you could teach me? Teach me how to make my technique better? I’m just so robotic sometimes.”

“...sure.” He hesitantly said with a growing tiny grin. “Like right now?”

“Oh! I mean it doesn’t have to be right now right now, just like when you have some time I was thinking.”

“I have a little time right now.” He began taking off his coat which he had just put on.

“Oh really?” You felt your cheeks get a little warm. You certainly weren’t expecting him to say yes so quickly.

“Do-do you have time?” He worriedly asked.

“--Yeah!”

“Okay...let’s get started then.”

✦✧✦✧

The music from Hyunjin’s phone echoed over the speakers and you attempted the twirls again. You were able to execute the timing, but each one felt more inelastic than the last. God, your whole body was aching to stop, but it couldn’t get enough of the feeling of him watching you and observing your every movement.

“What should I change about it this time?” You struggled to take in breaths.

Hyunjin looked you up and down, with that same focus from before. With someone as picturesque as him, he looked a little stern when he examined you, which scared you a little, but excited you at the same time.

“You need to take the strain out of your hips, they’re geting in the way you need to let you whole body fall into it. Focus on your legs. Like this:”

He spun in front of you with his leg pointed out. With the twist of his body his silver hair swept along with him.

“You know what I mean?” He gently asked.

“--yes, I think so.”

“Your hips are your anchor, but don’t let them stop you.” Hyunjin stepped up closer to you, hesitantly going to grab your waist with his hands. It was then when you realized how big and powerful they were. His sudden gesture made your heart beat even faster than it already was.

“Pivot like...this.” He turned you a little to the left.

“Oh.”

He lead your hips into the pivot a couple more times to show you. His hands were so warm.

He quickly removed his hands, embarrassed, like he had been doing something he should not have been. He walked away from you and you took notice of his shoulder blades curving under the thin fabric of his sleeveless shirt.

“Do you wanna stop now? I think I’ve done as much as I can for today.”

He nodded and removed his phone from the sound system.

✦✧✦✧

Outside of the arts building, snow had picked back up again after flurrying the whole night long. Everything around had been covered in a beautiful blanket of white.

“Well, I’m headed off this way.” You head nodded to your bus station a couple blocks down. “Thank you for helping me by the way.”

“For sure! I...liked helping you out.”

“Really?”

Hyunjin immediately made a startled little face upon realizing what he had said and you laughed a little at him.

He pulled his chunky scarf up higher to his chin. “Actually...I um, live down that way too.”

“Do you take the 12 bus too?”

He nodded. Little snowflakes had begun to get caught in his hair like a little halo.

“Well then let’s get going! We don’t wanna miss the last bus!”

✦✧✦✧

It was rush hour, so naturally the two of you had to stand on the bus of packed people. The air inside was chilly and it smelled of old dusty coats that had just recently been taken out for the fist snow. You thought it was a little funny how every five seconds or so someone would sniffle in there.

“I’ve seen you in class too.” Hyunjin finally said something after a while of you two being pushed pretty close next to eachother. “Dancing and other stuff, everyone really seems to like you, you’re really good at making people laugh.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You didn’t quite know how to respond to him. “I don’t really have a problem putting myself out there much, I’ve always really believed in just being me, you know? And not letting others determine who I am around them. That or maybe I just like the sound of my own voice.”

He giggled a little then pulled the string nearby the window.

stop requested.  The robot bus voice said.

“You’re not stalking me or anything are you?” You rose an eyebrow at him, which scared him more that you had expected.

“No..? What do you mean?”

“This is my stop too.”

Your boots crunched into the snow of the side walk and you thanked the bus driver. Hyunjin got off after you with his hands in his pockets. The two of you stood there in the snow for a moment, something weirdly unsaid lingering between the two of you. Something felt unfinished but you couldn’t quite figure out what it was. He genuinely was so sweet, you sneakily wanted to be around him for just a little longer.

Hyunjin stammered, but confidently got out, “Do you want to get something to eat? Right now?”

It was if he had read your mind. You were glad that he had asked, and a little surprised too. He waited attentively for you to answer, still looking a little nervous; even looking like that he was terribly adorable.

“I’d love to.” You smiled back at him causing him to sigh in relief.

“Is there anywhere that you like?” He led the both of you on.

You pondered for a moment, then remembered. You cringed out the words, “Actually...I really shouldn’t be spending money right now; I need to get a lot better at saving...”

You almost slapped yourself in the face after saying such a thing and seeing how crestfallen he had become. It was true, but technically he didn’t need to know that.

“Or! I mean, we could go to my place and I could I dunno, whip something up? I should have something...”

“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to be eating away your food.”

“No really! It’s fine, come on, I’m just down this block.”

✦✧✦✧

It was only seconds before you opened the door to your apartment that you remembered how embarrassingly messy it was. You and your two roommates were the best of friends, but horribly matched when it came to being cleanly. The three of you just chalked it up to you all being “creative minds.” You all went to arts school after all.

“Just...don’t look--sorry, it’s really messy in there, I wasn’t really expecting to bring anyone over.”

“I don’t care.” Hyunjin politely said and watched you unlock the door.

“We just call it creative madness.”

When you walked in even you tried hard to not look at the mess and got straight to work rummaging around your cabinets.

“Does spaghetti with sauce sound good?”

He nodded and neatly arranged his coat, shoes and bag at the door.

He wandered over to the large windows of your living area. “You have a really nice view.”

“Ah thanks,” You clicked on the stove. “Makes the price of the rent worth it,” you lowered your voice “fuckin’ swindlers.”

Your eyes wandered to the island in your kitchen full of all kinds of crap: baking supplies, art supplies, old mail, textbooks, mismatched pairs of gloves.

“It would probably be best if we ate in my room,” You let up. “You can barely sit here.”

Hyunjin nodded and turned to keep watching the snow peacefully. While you cooked, he didn’t say much but you couldn’t keep his eyes off of him, nearly burning yourself on the saucepan. He changed the room by just merely exisiting in it. You truly couldn’t imagine how you had never noticed him before.

✦✧✦✧

“Thank you for cooking for me, that was really good.”

You waved his compliment off with the swipe of your hand. “It’s really nothing, you should see my roommate, she’s a culinary science major. Wait! Let me go get something real quick.”

You smiled at your little surprise and shuffled back to the kitchen, putting the two little raspberry and chocolate cupcakes on plates with equally little forks.

“Ta-da! These are to die for. I wish I could take the credit; these are just one of the benefits of having a roommate that’s constantly experimenting.”

Hyunjin took in a careful bite and his eyes widened into moons.

“I know right!? She’s a genius.”

Silence filled the air between you as you ate more. You couldn’t help but feel so completely and utterly cozy in the moment. The sun had nearly set and you had set your heater up in your room along with some Christmas music to softly play in the background. The only regret that you had was the candle you had lit which was just a little too sweet. You started to wonder after you two had finished, what would happen next? Would he leave? Greedily, a feeling seeped into you like before, you still didn’t want him to leave.

“That was amazing.” He placed his plate down.

“You know what?” Your brash confidence pushing through once more. “Your hair, the silver, it’s just so pretty. I can’t stop looking at it.”

He instantly became flustered. “Oh...thank you, I’ve been thinking about dying it like this for a really long time now and I finally did it. It sounds kinda dumb, but I didn’t wanna do anything that would draw attention to myself.”

“...can I touch it?”

Hyunjin looked a little shocked, but eagerly nodded.

You started by thumbing through some of the longer strands towards his shoulders: it was just as soft as you imagined. You then started from the top running your hand all the way down, admiring the way that it looked like it shimmered a little. You had gotten so caught up in him that you didn’t notice that he had closed his eyes.

“pretty.” You cooed.

“Y/n?” He suddenly asked.

“Hmm?”

“Is it weird to say that I feel like really comfortable around you? Is that weird?”

“No, not at all.” You continued running your hands through the silver strands, somehow you had leaned in a lot closer to him than you had been before.

He looked at you with his doe-like brown eyes. You could have sworn that they were glistening. Your eyes fell a little lower to his lips, they looked wonderfully kissable and plump. From that moment your brain furiously wondered what they tasted like. His eyes fell a little too.

He leaned in first, catching you completely off guard. He kissed you so carefully and gently, his mouth parted just slightly; it was heavenly. You could still taste the chocolate and the raspberry on his lips. He sighed a little into your mouth like he was relaxing himself. In many ways, the way in which he kissed you made you feel like he cared for nothing else in the world, just you. Your cupped his face in your hands, tracing your thumbs against his jawline.

That was it. You were absolutely crazy for him.

You broke for a moment and he turned into a huge, rosy, smiling mess. The two of you giddily giggled at how happy you were over what had just happened. You shuffled your own plate off the bed to silently invite him to lay down which he did obediently. Now he seemed less hesitant, but more excited.

You swung your legs around both sides of him and kissed him more on his smiling lips. At this point, you had convinced yourself that nothing in this world was sweet as him. His hands found their way to your back, where he ran his fingers down, making you shiver delightfully at the touch. His hands finally found your waist which he grabbed onto firmly. He pulled you down into him so your bodies were flush and you could feel all of his warmth. Once you were this close, he started kissing you back more wantonly, gasping a little in between.

“You’re so beautiful Hyunjinnie.” You snuck in between kisses. “I can’t get enough of you.”

He let an airy laugh fall into your lips then brought one of his hands to tangle in you hair. All at once, your hands yearned to explore the soft of his skin everywhere. Outside your window the snow still silently fell and the golden sunset faded into the skyline’s horizon.

You knew how excited you had become, where together your hips grinded together. Your head spun thinking about having someone as beautiful as him give your body attention.

Hyunjin broke, holding your eyes seriously. “I-I want to make you feel good. Can I do that?”

“Of course, I would love that.” You melted.

“--But...I think you’ll have to tell me how...I haven’t done this before, sorry..”

The fact that he had shared this with you made him even more adorable.

“Don’t apologize, I can show you everything.” You whispered into his ear with a prideful grin. “But first, can I first help you?”

He gulped, “Yes.”

“I want to show you that you’re worth the attention, you’re worth all of it.”

You helped him pull off his sweater, and then his sleeveless shirt revealing his toned and pale chest, just waiting for your lips. You didn’t want to move too fast however, or risk scaring him.

“Just relax okay?”

You planted kisses everywhere you could: on his collarbones, his stomach and on his ribs, right over his heart. Even from the simplest of touches from you he seemed to unravel.

“You’re breathtaking.” You said onto his skin.

You couldn’t stop yourself from sucking a little harder than you planned, drawing little purple marks against his milky-white skin. He looked like pure art.

“Can I go down a little further?”

“Mmhmm.” He got out, with eyes closed shut trying to control himself.

You slipped his joggers down, revealing his quivering member, which was enticingly long even hidden by his briefs. He had already stained them a little with pre cum.

“oh my god.” you whispered, enamored. You couldn’t wait a single second further.

He timidly watched as you completely striped him, then tore off our own shirt and pants to make it a little more even.

“Tell me stop if you want me to, okay?”

He pleaded with desperate eyes, “Don’t stop.”

First you teased him just a little by running your tongue flat up and down and around his length, wetting your tongue with one hand and slowly pumping. You moved on to then twist around the head which had grown painfully hard. His breaths wavered and he let out little moans in desperation. You took him in at last, bobbing your head steadily.

“ mmm, that feels so good.” Hyunjin moaned out breathlessly.

You kept on, but not for too much longer, you didn’t want him finishing quite yet. He looked a little dejected when you stopped, but you swooped up to kiss him more. You took up his left hand and kissed him all the way up to his wrist and into his palm. His fingertips brushed over your lips, as gentle as one would with a flower petal.

“You want to touch me now?”

“--Yes.”

You unclipped your bra for him and laid back. For this he didn’t need any instruction. He immediately took your breast in his hand, squeezing and and ghosting his fingertips over your nipples; you reveled under his touch. He lowered to suck lightly on the bud, pulling at it lightly with his lips. His teeth grazed you slightly but you didn’t care, you fucking loved it.

“That feels amazing.” You whispered as you watched him. He was sure to give both of your nipples attention.

“I want you.” You said with hot breath. “I want your tongue.”  

He looked a little bewildered, but determined after what you had said. He slid down your body, giving you kisses the whole way down like you had done to him.

He nibbled a bit on your thighs. “Tell me how you like it.”

By the second his confidence grew more and more and it was addicting.

You started by rubbing yourself a little so he knew where to start. “In circles, you can go fast or slow, I like both, and you can suck on it too if you’d like.

He lowered, and you swung one of you legs over his shoulder which he palmed into. He started painfully slow, kitten licking carefully; he didn’t know it, but he was teasing the hell out of you. Nevertheless, you whole body began to shake a little with each lick.

“Flatten your tongue out...like that, you can go a little faster, yes...just like that.”

He had closed his eyes and settled into a rhythm, and you dug your heels into the bed. It was astonishing how quickly he got the hang of it. You whimpered out while he continued.

“fuck, Hyunjin--”

He sped up a little, your first orgasm was close by.

“Your fingers, like this.” You held up your pointer and middle together to show him. “Fuck me like that.

He did as he was told, sliding them in with ease over how wet you had become. His fingers were long and slender; addictive. He pumped in and out while your pussy made ungodly sounds. You felt so close you were lightheaded.

“Curl your fingers up, like this.” You showed him again. He continued going fast, taking a hint from your quickened breaths.

You came with white heat, clawing at the comforter on the bed. You only gave yourself a few more moments before pulling him up towards you. “I want you inside me.”

You scrambled with the drawer of your nightstand to rip a condom off from the strand that you kept, tearing it open for him. He was a little flustered, but put it on quickly; he was dripping even more for you. Your lips connected as you laid down, and he aligned himself on top of you. It was then when you saw how pink his chest had flushed. You opened your folds for him, and he started to guide himself in. He filled you up perfectly, and he groaned out once the two of you were connected.

“it’s so tight.” He shivered.

Your fingers latched on to the skin of his hips as you guided him lightly up and down. He buried his face into your shoulder as little euphoric moans slipped past his lips. After a moment, he was able to find his pace, grazing you deep inside. You let him take control as he thrust into you, leaving your arms to wrap around his broad back. You pulled his face over to kiss him, the both of you loosing yourself in the other.

“You make me feel, so, so good, baby,” You hushed into his ear.

He panted, “I-I’m gonna cum soon.”

It took all your strength to flip him off of you, and to land in his lap. He groaned with his hands getting lost journeying all around your body--anywhere he could touch. You took over, riding him and rolling your hips fast with both of your palms flat on his chest riddled with hickies. Like this, you thought that he looked practically angelic. Both of you chased your orgasms together, erupting at nearly the same time, and you ravished in him throbbing inside.

You laughed a little together in sheer bliss and he flinched a little when you slid off of him.

“Did that all feel good for you? Are you okay?” You pecked his nose.

“Yes. It felt like nothing else.”

You stood up, adjusting your frazzled hair and putting on a fresh set of comfy clothes. “Stay right there okay?”

You went to grab him a towel and clean himself off with, handing him his clothes one by one as he dressed. You brought the plates back to the kitchen coming back with a large glass of ice cool water, then offered it to him. He guzzled it letting a little drop fall down his neck.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Do you wanna...stay a little longer?”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

You blew the candle out and dimmed the lights, adjusting a blanket for the two of you to crawl under. Hyunijn followed you under, sweeping you deep into his arms.

Just a little bit longer. You thought to yourself. Stay with me.

[aka-ashi-keiji]

Bittersweet

Akaashi Keiji

soft angst, unrequited love

a/n: this was for a school assignment lmao but i really really enjoyed writing it, even though love stories are def not my forte :(( but angst definitely is, so enjoy!!

Keiji, such a beautiful name. This was the name of someone who you held so closely to your heart, but weren’t necessarily as close to his. Despite this fact, the fondation in which your friendship was built off of will always overpower your sense of heartbreak as you realize that not all the feelings you feel for Keiji are reciprocated. The earliest memories your mind encapsulated revolved around the amount of time you spent with him as a child. Your mothers being best friends and your houses set on the same street, you each had a “built in best friend”, as your parents would like to tell you. And it was true, he was your best friend all through the enjoyable years of grades kindergarten to fifth. As well as staying through the hell bound years of grades six to twelve. 

The core memories accumulated through the daily interactions between you two, stood out so brightly in your mind even years after graduation. Racing each other down hills even though those races always ended with either you or both of you with scraped knees. the scars still graced your skin and were visible under the skirt you wore to your office job day in and day out. Spending time sat in the shade provided by your house, in the backyard as your backs faced each other. On these days of your early preteen years, Keiji would bring you a new book every time, insisting that you would adore it. You nearly always did, and when you think about it now you’re not entirely sure if you truly did like these books, or if you just adored the person sitting with his back to yours as he read the same set of words. 

Despite whether you adored the books or if you adored him subconsciously, this admiration soon became a conscious thought that consumed your entire being. It all started with the garden of flowers that grew near the back door. Tiger lilies, roses, tulips, all varieties of each end of the color spectrum, definitely the second most beautiful thing that took part of Keiji’s household. The first being obvious, but nonetheless beautiful. But one specific flower soon had woven its roots of beauty and simplicity into your mind. Forget-me-Nots were simple, easy to overlook, kinda like Keiji and yourself. But when examined closely, they were completely immersed with beauty. Or, that’s what he would tell you everytime he handed you a bundle of these precious plants. Every morning since fourth grade, you would walk with Keiji to school. Every single one of these walks began the same. Around when you both were first years in high school, you finally asked. 

“Why do you give Forget-Me-Nots every morning?” 

To which he replied with, “Maybe if I give you them enough, you’ll never forget me.”

At this point in time, you had become conscious of the romantic feelings you had for keiji, but you could see it in the way he looked at you and in the way he gazed at the girl who sat next to you in English. His eyes weren’t tainted with the same love you felt for him, his eyes only became tainted when they were focused on her. 

You had read about this, the emotion of something much worse than a breakup. Unrequited love. The concept only existed in stories you read with the person who manifested this fictional feeling into your reality. But that feeling started to dull as his closeness started to become tainted just as your eyes had been for so many years. This had started your third and final year of high school, after the girl you sat next to in english had dumped him on his birthday. You were at that party, you watched it happen, You watched as she laughed with another the next day, while Keiji wept into your shoulder. You had never seen such genuine and painful tears spring from his beautiful dark blue eyes. His eyes were no longer tainted with that love, but instead flowed through to his actions. 

He started to linger longer after walking you home, bringing books over ‘just because’. He stayed for dinner now on the days where he would normally be out on a date, and not just on the weekends like before. Everything that unrequited love had taken from you, was now slowly making its way back into your life. The taint that still clung to your eyes seemed to force yourself to see the same emotions through his actions. Maybe this unrequited love was finally starting to go both ways. You knew in the back of your love sick brain that you were just being hopeful, and that he most likely was just being himself and his love was still only platonic. But a heart that had been bruised so many times can only handle the bleeding inside for so long. 

Your emotions had begun to spur your actions, linking your arms with his in the halls at school, legs over his lap as you both read on the couch, the grazing of your knuckles when you two walked too close together. He too, mimicked these habits. His head finding its way to your shoulder as you two studied, squeezing your hand when he sensed your unease, and even the smallest glance of his daring eyes seemed to hold yours for a second longer than would be comfortable, but it was comfortable with him. Even though the words never came from Keiji’s lips, you could’ve sworn you felt them with every move. I love you too. 

One day however, your feelings became too great to live in your mind. The love that manifested in fourth grade in his backyard was finally going to be voiced and accepted into the world. This day was like any other school routine, but the excitement and nausea was the catch. You waited patiently to hear Keiji’s strong but subtle footsteps come into earshot as you waited on your porch. Once they had, your heart nearly pulled you to his side, the giddiness concerning Keiji. 

“Are you alright? Are you cold, you're shaking.” He asked quietly as he began to take off his uniform blazer. Oh only if he knew. He placed it over your shoulders and began to reach back to the side of his school bag as you softly thanked him. What happened next was something so completely normal, but it still made your cheeks dust pink everytime. And today was no exception. He held out a single bundle of the precious flowers, his soft subtle smile gracing his face. You smiled back brightly as you took them, and with that you started your commute. 

You nervously picked at the stems as you fought the urge to just blurt out your confession. You nearly decided against it, but you shook your head as you promised to go through with it. You owed it to yourself, after all the years of pain you unnecessarily had put yourself through. And even though you knew you had to come clean, you still feared that maybe this was just a side effect of a love sick brain and a heart damaged by an emotion you read in a teen fiction book in seventh grade.  But that taint in your eyes never left and it remained glossy as ever. So as your steps fell in time with Keiji’s, you spoke. 

“I like you” 

He slowed down a bit and turned his head to see you staring at the gift he had given you. “What?” You both had stopped in your tracks now. Slowly but surely, your eyes connected to his and with one look, the taint had spread through your body and infected your heart. 

“I like you, or actually I love you.” You stammered out, the weight that sat so heavily on your head and heart finally receded. But soon returned as the air around Keiji was filled with silence. “That’s what I wanted to tell you.” You spoke again, hope filling your voice. You smiled at him as his eyes had suddenly become a shade darker. 

“Oh.” One word, that’s all you got. And that one word shattered the taint that covered your heart, and bruised it once more. 

“Oh?” you questioned, silently begging for more of an answer. Hoping for the answer you wanted. But you knew you wouldn’t get. His eyes still bore into yours, your smile fading along with any hope of this going the way your feelings had told you it would. 

After the few seconds that felt like eons, his explanation finally fell from his lips. The words gentle, but still sharp enough to draw blood. 

“Y/n look, y’know I care about you and I’ll always be your best friend but it’s just that-” 

You cut him off, you knew what he was about to say and if he said it, it would’ve split your heart in two. You saying it didn’t dull the damage as much as you hoped. 

“You still love her, huh?” You asked quietly, your heart pumping adrenaline into your veins, every muscle in your body working together to keep tears from falling. You didn;t want the answer even though you already knew it. You knew it from the start, you knew that fictional emotion wasn’t fiction and unfortunately, it was permanent. But you couldn’t blame yourself, you were sick, too love sick for your own good. And something you wished that book had told you, was that unrequited love could be deadly. 

A single nod was all it took. And when you think about that day now, you remind yourself that you should really listen to the thoughts that stick around long enough. The thoughts that don’t deter even when you have the strongest of feelings. You didn’t know how to feel, or what to say. In all honesty, what could you do? So you did the one thing you had mastered over all these years, you hid your true feelings.

“Okay, that’s alright!” You said brightly, beginning to walk once again. His steps fell in time with yours, and he even tried to apologize, apologize for being honest. But you assured him that it was okay, that you two were okay. You couldn’t be mad, but that didn;t stop you from being broken. It was true, your friendship continued as always, never letting the side effects of unrequited love over power the strength of the love manifested in your friendship. 

You both soon graduated, promising to keep in touch. And that you did. You both began to travel quite a lot after university, your jobs moving you all around the globe. But the tradition of the flowers that grew in Keiji’s backyard never ceased no matter the distance. They may have not shown up everyday, but they made their way to you on most occasions. 

On one very specific day, the day your first company launched, the bouquet of the dainty little flowers made their way to your office desk. However this time, they came with a note. 

“You didn’t forget me yet did you? I always knew you’d do great things. Congratulations y/n, come visit soon. I have some new books I think you’ll adore. 

- K.”

You could never forget him, you couldn’t ever forget Keiji even if you wanted to. The memory of him brought you back to that emotion that only existed in the fiction books you read in seventh grade. It wasn’t fiction, it was most definitely and undeniably real. Unrequited love was bitter, but with Keiji it was also sweet. And that’s something you could never forget. 

************************************************

a/n pt. two: as an akaashi simp and stan this hurt my heart.

part two is under construction :))

[spookysanta]

The TA - two. (h.c., c.e.)

Summary: everything about this situation is...weird.

Pairings: Professor!Chris Evans x Black!Reader, student!Henry Cavill x Black!Reader

WARNINGS: none

here’s part two! she’s a bit lengthy, fyi. enjoy! :)

UNEDITED

After a couple of days, she’d gotten used to the formality that is Professor Chris Evans (and company). She’d gotten used to the emails that open with, “I hope this message finds you well”, even though it rarely did.

So thanks, Chris, for the well-wishes but no thank you.

The first day of Fall classes was stressful, to say the least. She woke up later than she intended for her 8 a.m. class, then she got lost on her trip from one lecture hall to another, and by the time she had to get to Franklin for Chris’ class, she was practically running across campus. She burst into the lecture hall two minutes before class was set to begin. Walking to the main podium where Chris stood preparing for that day’s lecture, she breathed out, “Sorry I’m late.”

He turned to her with a smirk. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just a bit of a rough day is all.” She waved him off, completely ignoring the loud slam of the lecture hall’s doors. A figure emerged next to her holding a tray of coffees from The Bistro.

“Good morning!” Henry greeted, clearly having a better day than she was. He offered Chris a cup, then set the tray down on the desk that sat adjacent to the presenter’s podium, taking the other two and offering one to her. She thanked him quietly. “You ready?” he asked Chris.

Chris laughed. And for the first time, she laughed along with him. And seeing it firsthand, she could tell they had a good relationship by the way they interacted. She could tell that Chris genuinely enjoys Henry’s company as his TA, and not just for the things that he does to be helpful—they have a good thing. “Yeah, I’m ready—I’m excited. Thank you for the coffee, by the way.”

“No problem. It was on my way here.”

She felt out of place as they engaged in banter.

She looked around the steadily filling classroom and saw students from all walks of life; she’ll admit, that’s one of the only perks of college in her mind—there was always someone for everyone. There are all kinds of people from different races, religions, creeds—all gathering to pursue higher education. In that respect, she found college to be interesting. But in any other regard, she hated it.

Henry took note of her silence, “Are you excited, (Y/N)?”

She turned to him sharply, not having anticipated him addressing her so suddenly. She nodded curtly, “Yep.”

“You don’t sound like it.” Chris retorted as he set up his laptop to broadcast a slideshow on the projector screens that took up nearly all of the space on the wall behind them. “C’mon, this is going to be fun!”

She offered them a dry chuckle as she watched the screens illuminate with a bright white background and black lettering that read:

WELCOME TO CHEMISTRY 120, SECTION D346-0

PROFESSOR CHRIS EVANS, D. SC.

HENRY CAVILL AND (Y/N) (Y/L/N), GRADUATE AND UNDERGRADUATE TAs

Yeah, that’s totally not intimidating. “Ooh,” Henry nudged her with his elbow, “look at that—you’re official.” He turned to her, pointing an index finger at the screens. “Listen, this is going to be no big deal.”

“You sound like him.” She pointed to Chris, who was hooking up a small microphone that he would connect to his shirt.

“Well I mean it. You’ll be fine. The most we’re going to have to do is pass out papers and introduce ourselves—easy peasy.”

She hummed in understanding. “Mhm.” She took a big gulp from her coffee cup, its liquid now only warm from Henry’s commute. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Henry shrugged, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Good morning, class.” Chris spoke into the microphone, his voice projecting through the speakers in the room. The chatter among students died down quickly. “I’m Professor Evans and welcome to Chemistry 120, section D346-0.” She noticed that he was like her—he fidgeted, too. His hands were behind his back, but she could see him fiddling with the remote that was in them. One hand was wrapped around his opposite wrist, and his free hand twirled the remote between his fingers.

“I’d like for my TAs to introduce themselves. They’ll be helping you a lot this semester.”

He took a handheld microphone from behind the podium and turned it on, handing it to Henry. “I’m Henry, I’m a graduate TA studying microbiology.” He stated with a muted wave. “I’ve been working with Professor Evans for about four semesters now, so I’ll be happy to answer any questions you may have.” He handed the microphone to her, his thumb brushing hers when she took it. Their eyes met briefly.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N). I’m an undergraduate student studying bio. This is my first semester as a TA for this class so I’m very excited to work with all of you.” There. That was easy enough. Henry looked to her with a small smile.

“Alright,” Chris spoke up after she handed him the microphone to be put away, “so I’ll be quick with the introductory stuff—I know no-one wants to hear me drone on about safety procedures for the next ninety minutes.” He gestured to a stack of papers that sat on the desk. “Could you pass those out?” he asked Henry and (Y/N) politely.

Henry nodded, effortlessly picking up the large stack of papers. He approached her and instructed in a whisper, “Take half.” She grabbed a substantial stack of papers, making her way across half of the lecture hall and handing students a sheet of paper going by rows, mimicking the movements that Henry made. They both made it to the middle; there they stood on a walkway that connected to the path that led to the front of the room. He followed behind her back to the podium as they awaited their next tasks.

“So, what you just got are information forms. We’re going to read them, go over the most important stuff, then at the end, you’ll sign them, and they’ll be collected.” Chris cleared his throat, beginning to read from the page, only really emphasizing the important aspects of the course.

She took a page off the stack, reading as he spoke. 

COURSE POLICIES:

No food/drink/snacks in the lecture hall or lab (water in a clear container is allowed)

No electronics of any kind are allowed in the lab

Late work will not be accepted in any capacity

All paper assignments must be turned in at the end of each class to TAs

Online work must be submitted before deadline—pages will close after the assigned time

Attendance (especially on lab days) is mandatory

All absences are considered unexcused unless otherwise authorized with a note or confirmation e-mail

Now it’s all come full circle for her. She can clearly see why a lot of his previous students called him a hard ass. And majority of the policies he listed, she doesn’t even plan to uphold herself. So how could she expect three-hundred students—freshmen, at that—to comply?

The policies were reasonable, sure, but hard to enforce.

He made sure to emphasize the dress code, late work, and attendance policies; it was apparent that those were real issues among his classes over the years. “Additionally,” he continued after having spoken without stopping for twenty minutes, “this is the only introductory chemistry class I’m teaching this semester, which means everything you submit will be read and graded. There are no grades for completion or participation.”

She heard several students groan. She leaned to Henry, “Wait. He teaches other classes?” she whispered.

He nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered back, “He also teaches upper-level biology and organic chemistry, and he taught a statistics class last year but I’m not sure if he still does.”

Damn. No wonder he was so organized.

And she found that interesting; that definitely explained why he would have her and Henry do a lot of the grading for this class’ assignments. He probably didn’t have time to breathe in between classes, let alone grade three-hundred lab reports.

By the end of his class that seemed never-ending, she was absolutely exhausted. She was having daydreams of her cozy bed when Henry approached her after he finished collecting signed forms from his side of the classroom. “You alright?” Henry asked.

She stifled a yawn, “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good class today, guys. I’m really excited for this semester.” Chris gushed, visibly happy with their help.

“Me, too.” Replied Henry. “I think this batch will be better than last semester’s.”

“Ugh. Don’t even get me started on last semester’s class.” He shook his head as he began to gather papers and his laptop into his bag. “I’ve never wanted to rip my hair out more than I did last semester.”

Henry laughed. “Trust me, I know.”

The two assistants prepared themselves to leave. Before they said their “goodbyes”, Chris asked them to meet with him in his office (as there was another class filing in).

“So,” Chris closed the door to his office, muffling the bustle of the room outside that was quickly filling up with the literature class that started right after theirs. “I wanted to know what you’ll be doing this weekend.”

“Um…” (Y/N) was confused. “Why?”

“Because I want to get a head start on grading these papers and entering everyone’s information into the database.” He pulled the stack of forms from his bag and clamped them together with a binder clip. “So, if you and Henry are free this weekend, that’d really help me out.”

“I’m not busy,” Henry shrugged. “I keep my weekends open anyway.”

She wasn’t busy either, but the weekend to work? This couldn’t wait until later?

“I’ll be free this weekend.” She kept her voice cheery but really regretted not lying when she had the chance.

“Great.” He clapped his hands together. “We’ll plan for a time for you to come over and we’ll knock it out in an hour or two.” Come over?

“Come over where?” she asked.

“Oh! My house.” Chris clarified, “When Henry and I had a lot of papers to grade, he usually comes over to my place early in the morning, we grade papers, and we go about our day. That’s not an issue for you, is it?”

“No, not at all.” It was a bit odd, though. But she’ll be honest in saying that she found all of this…odd in one way or another.

“Cool.” Henry looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get going, I don’t want to miss tonight’s game.”

Chris’ eyes widened in realization. “Dammit.” He swore, “I forgot there was a game on tonight.” He stood and grabbed his things, going around his desk to the door, and ushering us out of his office. He shut and locked the door behind them. They walked swiftly and quietly across the front of the classroom and out the door to converse in the hallway. “Alright, you guys. Have a great rest of your day, and don’t hesitate to call me if you need me.” He waved, then turned and left through the faculty doors.

Henry looked at her. “You ready?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” Together, they walked leisurely down the stairs and out of the lecture hall, through the hustle of the “afternoon class rush”.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked for what seemed like the thousandth time today. “You’re quiet.”

“Do you think…” she paused, wanting to pick the right words to say. “do you think it’s—I don’t know—odd that Chris wants us to meet at his house to grade papers?”

“What would make you think that?”

“I don’t know, it just seems weird to me.” Someone who was on their phone bumped into her causing her to drop the books she was carrying. “Shit.” She went to grab her book, but Henry picked it up for her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He opened the doors to the lecture hall, where they looked outside and saw that it was pouring. “Wow, it’s really comin’ down out there.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t bring an umbrella.” She groaned out loud. “Fuck my life.”

Henry laughed at her misery, “You need a ride?”

“Your car’s fixed?”

“Yeah.” He fumbled in his pocket for his car keys. “I took it to the shop after our meeting. Obviously I had to call a tow truck before I could get it to the mechanic’s, but I got it there eventually. It’s doing great now in case you were wondering—it almost runs perfectly.”

“I wasn’t.” she gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Thanks for the information, though.”

“Whatever.” He scoffed playfully. “You want a ride or not?”

She really shouldn’t. This guy, as holy as he is in the eye of the Almighty Chris, could be a monster. He could be a serial killer. He could be plotting to attack her—she’d lost count of how many news stories she’s read about kidnappings on college campuses—and who knows, she could be on his list.

But then again, it was pouring outside, and the walk back to her apartment was long. The air was getting cooler and combined with the darkness of the sky and the time of day, she’d end up with the flu by the end of the afternoon.

“Fine.”

He took his jacket from his shoulders and handed it to her. “Here.”

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Put it on.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You need it more than me, okay? So put the jacket on.” He commanded.

She didn’t like that he didn’t ask nicely, but she did it anyway. And she wouldn’t tell him out loud, but goodness, his jacket smelled good. Like every kind of good smell that someone would want on a man combined with the smell of men’s shampoo in the hood, she was in heaven. She tried not to let it show but she made sure to take deep inhales through her nose as they journeyed to his car.

They exited the lecture hall, running down the slippery cobblestone sidewalk like the rest of the students in their avoidance of getting wet from the impending storm. He guided her to his car, opening the door for her, then climbed in the driver’s seat. “Whew,” he breathed, buckling his seatbelt. “that was interesting.”

His car was quite nice. She’d expected it to be really junky and out of shape—because of the godforsaken breakdown—but it was surprisingly clean and smelled good, too. Not in a cologne way, but in a “detailed car” way.

“Yeah, it was.” She replied, also trying to catch her breath from running, “You have a nice car.”

“Thank you. I was trying to tell you that earlier, but you didn’t want to believe me.”

“No, I didn’t.” she laughed. “You proved me wrong.”

He revved the engine. “So, where to?”

“Brookwood Heights.”

“Shut up.” He all but exclaimed, his eyes widening to the size of Mars. “I live there!”

Oh, that’s great.

“Really? That’s so cool.”

“Yeah, that’s so funny!” he pulled out of the parking lot, turning onto the busy street. “What a small world.”

They managed to get to their apartment complex without issue. He helped her get all her belongings out of the car, then grabbed his and locked his car before they went inside, the cool air of the complex’s lobby almost smacking them in the face. They trudged to the elevator, entering the small box and leaning against the guardrails in exhaustion. She pressed the 3 on the keypad. “What floor?”

Not looking up from his phone, he mumbled, “3.”

Are you kidding me?

“That’s my floor.”

His head snapped up. “So, we’re floormates, huh?” he smirked.

“I guess so.”

The elevator dinged and they stepped out. It seemed like they were deliberately walking slowly down the hall so that they could see where the other person would drop off, but they just kept walking side-by-side until they got to the very end of the hall. She stopped in front of her door. “Well, this is me.”

He stood at the door across the hall from hers and pointed at the number, “This is me.”

So, they’re neighbors.

They’re co-workers…and now they’re neighbors.

Because of course, life can’t get any more cliché than it already is.

“See you around?” he called to her once he unlocked his front door.

“Yeah, see you around.” She waved with a small smile, opening her front door and stepping into her abode.

Damn, she missed her apartment today. She tossed her keys in the bowl by the door and took off her wet shoes. Then she set her bag on the adjacent counter. She shuffled off her jacket—

Wait.

This wasn’t her jacket. She didn’t wear a jacket today. It was Henry’s jacket.

She wanted to yell. She didn’t feel like being social anymore today. She decided to set the jacket on the coat rack by the front door; that way she’ll be able to bring it to him in the morning. She went to her bedroom and stripped from her wet clothes, going into the restroom and starting a shower.

Finally.

*

The following days were surprisingly good. She didn’t gripe and moan about the weather—it was rainy every morning that week—Henry rapped on her front door at the same time and offered to drive her to Franklin Hall. Some days, she accepted, and they even stopped at The Bistro if they had the time. Some days she didn’t, and those were the days where Henry seemed more on edge, only to visibly settle when he saw her enter the classroom or laboratory.

Today was Saturday; today was the day that she had to meet at Chris’ house to grade the lab reports from Tuesday and Thursday’s classes.

She wasn’t particularly excited about it.

She had to get up early because Chris wanted to get started at nine a.m., which was ungodly early for a Saturday—or any day, really.

Three knocks sounded sharply on her front door, “You ready?” Henry’s voice bellowed through the wood.

She rushed, opening the front door. “Almost.” She shuffled on a hoodie over her t-shirt, stepping aside. “Come in.”

He entered wordlessly and sat on the first chair he saw, which just so happened to have his jacket laying across the back. “So, I’m assuming this is yours now?”

She looked at the item he was holding. “Shit!” she exclaimed. “I meant to give that back. I’m sorry.”

He chuckled at her demeanor, “It’s fine. It’s bad out today, so I don’t mind if you need it.”

“I should be fine, thank you,” she forced her feet into a pair of sneakers, fighting to get her index finger from between the shoe’s fabric and the heel of her foot. “plus, I don’t want to hog your stuff.”

“You’re not hogging anything. If you need it, wear it.”

“But it’s yours.” She threw on her backpack, grabbing her keys, phone and wallet from the bowl by the front door. “Take it.”

“No.” he laid it back in its original position on the chair. “Give it back once the storm passes, okay? I’m just looking out for you.”

She rolled her eyes, but it made her smile anyway, “Fine. Thank you.” She opened the front door and practically shoving him out of her apartment and down the hall.

“You’re welcome.”

She’s not sure what’s happening. She’s started to like Henry’s company. Her goal when everything started was to remain polite and formal, and now…she thinks of him as a friend—which was not her plan.

They rode in a comfortable silence to Chris’ house. He could tell she was stressed. “Are you okay?”

“I guess.” Her shoulders shrugged, the fabric of her hoodie rubbing against her seatbelt. “I still think going to Chris’ house to grade papers is weird.”

“Nah,” he retorted, “it’s really casual. He makes a pot of coffee, and he even made me breakfast once. It doesn’t usually take long either—in and out.”

“So, I have nothing to be worried about?” she asked, their eyes meeting when he stopped at a red light. “This isn’t a setup for the two of you murder me, right?”

“If I wanted to murder you, I’ve had ample opportunities before today to do so.”

As if that’s reassuring.

“Thanks for sparing my life, I guess.” She muttered.

“Seriously, though. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. And if you get uncomfortable, I’ll say my apartment flooded and we’ll leave. Okay?”

She snorted, “Flooded?”

“Flooded. On fire. Intruder. My cat died. I’ll make something up.” He turned into a neighborhood of houses, pulling into a driveway behind a blue SUV, and shifting the car’s gear into “park”. “Say the word and we’ll leave, no questions asked.”

She nodded. She felt the slightest bit better about the situation. She didn’t really know if it was because he was so willing to drive her home, or if it was because he was so willing to drive her home just to keep her comfortable. Nonetheless, she appreciated it. “Okay.”

He reached behind him and pulled his shoulder bag from behind her seat. “And then, when we’re done, we can go to The Bistro and load up on cookies.”

“Their cookies are good…”

“Easily the best cookies I’ve had in a while. So, don’t do this because we’re required to, do this for the incentive of sugar.” He looked at her. “Lots and lots of sugar.”

They got out of his car with their bags and trudged up the driveway’s pavement, him following behind her to the front door. He emerged next to her and rang the doorbell.

Chris opened the door with a smile, “Hey.”

Not to mention, he wasn’t dressed like a professor at all. He was wearing grey sweatpants along with a cobalt blue zip-up jacket that was opened, showing off the white tank top he had on underneath.

And let’s not forget about the cross necklace—a minor addition, but still very important to the outfit.

“Good morning!” Henry cheered.

“Morning.” She greeted timidly.

Henry allowed her to step into the threshold of Chris’ home first. He entered, too, commenting, “Ooh. It smells good in here.”

“You caught me while I was making myself some pancakes—are you guys hungry?”

“I could eat.” Replied Henry as he plopped himself onto the couch in the front room, setting his bag on the coffee table before he sat down.

Chris looked to her, “Pancakes?” he asked simply with a point.

“Sure.” She shuffled off her backpack and sat next to Henry on the opposite end of the couch. “Let’s get this over with.” She muttered to herself. She unpacked her bag and set her laptop on the coffee table.

Not a few moments later, the two of them heard Chris shout from the kitchen, “Pancakes!”

Henry hopped up from his seat. He held out his hand in front of her, “C’mon.”

She took it and allowed him to pull her up…his hands were soft. Calloused at the knuckles, but soft, nonetheless. She almost hesitated to let go. But she did, regrettably. She followed him into the kitchen and took a plate from the stack on the counter next to the stove. Henry wasted no time in stacking his plate high with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon, drowning everything in sticky maple syrup.

She, however, was a bundle of nerves, so she didn’t grab much—only two pancakes and two strips of bacon for herself. Henry balanced his plate, a handful of silverware, and a cup of coffee in his muscular arms and walked carefully back to the living room.

“You sure that’s all you want?” Chris asked, pointing to her plate as he poured the hot coffee from the carafe and into a large mug. “There’s plenty to go around.”

She shook her head politely, “I think I’m good for now.” She took a mug from the counter and held it out to him. “Could you pour me some, please?”

“Of course.” He poured the coffee into her mug a bit more than halfway. He offered her milk from the refrigerator, and she took it, pouring into her mug leisurely. He watched her and said almost in a mumble, “So…how are you liking things?”

“What things?” she replied.

“The position. The class itself—hell, your classes. How are you getting on?”

“Good, I suppose.” She shrugged. “I like the job a lot, and working with you guys. My classes are hard this semester—I don’t know what it is, but for some reason, Calculus seems so much more difficult than I remember.”

“Who do you have for that class?” he took a long sip from his mug, leaning his back comfortably against the countertop. “Mackie?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “He assigns so much work, I can barely keep up. And his class is in Jackson Hall—on the other side of campus—so I basically have to run to his class in order to get there on time if Henry doesn’t drive me.”

“Henry drives you to class?”

Out of all she said, that’s what he clung to?

“Yeah, most days. Apparently, we’re neighbors in the same complex, and he has a class in Jackson at the same time as mine. I don’t have a car and he does, so it just made sense.”

Chris hummed. “Well, I’m good friends with Mackie; he and I were actually roommates in undergrad. So if you need me to, I can put in a word.”

“A word?” she repeated.

“Yeah. Your studies are important, but so is your job. So if you need to be excused from his class every now and again, or you need help catching up, I can help you.”

“Oh.” She pondered for a moment. She needed this job, yes, but not so much that she feels the need to fall behind on her schoolwork to keep Chris company. “Well, I think I’m fine for now, but thank you for the offer.”

“Sure. Anything to help.” He patted a hand on her shoulder, squeezing her flesh, then left the kitchen.

She sat back on the couch next to Henry and timidly ate her breakfast while he and Chris engaged in conversation about the upcoming events in the area.

We do shoulder rubs now? She asked in her brain. He seemed almost…flirty? And when I mentioned Henry driving me to class, he visibly almost tensed. What was that about?

“Yeah, I think it’s a great idea for the two of you to go.”

That’s when she started to pay attention. “Go to what?”

“There are student tutoring sessions in Hampton Hall for all undergraduate classes. Generally, I don’t make my students attend because there aren’t any undergraduate TAs in my class. But now, you’re here, so my class is on the roster.” Then, he muttered, “And Henry can take you.”

She nodded, taking her planner out of her bag. “When are they?”

“Thursdays at three. I’ve been told that they usually run about an hour, so it won’t take up all your afternoon. Then, you and Henry can do…whatever.”

Henry raised an eyebrow, eyes glancing to her, then back to Chris.

That was strange.

She didn’t question it. She was eager to finish grading her set of papers so that she could shove Henry out the door, get their cookies—that he suggested, and thus, will pay for—and head home to sleep the rest of her day away.

It took them a total of two hours to finish grading that week’s lab reports and put them into Chris’ online gradebook, and put the students’ information into a spreadsheet. After they cleared their trash and put their plates and silverware into the kitchen sink, she all but threw her belongings into her backpack. Henry put his bag over his shoulder, bushing a piece of hair behind his ear. “Well,” Henry began, taking his car keys from his front pocket and twirling the keychain around his index finger. “we should get going.”

“Sure. I don’t want to keep the two of you busy.” Chris replied as he ushered his two assistants to the front door, his tone not displaying any care for taking up the early part of their afternoon. “Have a great weekend, guys. See you Monday.”

They left and walked quietly side-by-side to Henry’s car. He backed out of the driveway and sped out of the neighborhood and down the street. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked her.

“I guess.”

“You guess?” he repeated, “What makes you unsure?”

She almost hesitated to mention it. But there was no logical way Henry didn’t pick up on Chris’ comments throughout their time there. “Chris was just acting weird, is all.”

“Define weird.”

“He kept saying things about you and me carpooling, and he even offered to excuse me from my Calc class with Mackie.” She suddenly found her fingers much more interesting to look at than the road in front of them. “And he touched my shoulder. He squeezed my shoulder, actually.”

“You think he was acting out of the ordinary…because he touched your shoulder?”

“No! Well, yes, but he seemed upset when I told him that you and I carpool, and that’s what caught me off guard.”

Henry shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t think it’s professional.”

“If he didn’t think it was professional, he would’ve said so, instead of making snide comments.”

He parked the car in front of The Bistro, then turned it off and turned to her. “Maybe he doesn’t like us hanging out.”

Hanging out? Is that what he called it?

The two of them got out of the car and walked into the cold coffee shop, standing in line behind the last patron. “I don’t know,” she said lowly so as to not disturb the other customers with their conversation. “I just think that it doesn’t make sense for him to be so…intrusive.”

He looked at her. “Do you want me to say something?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “If it’s not what I think it is, he may get offended.”

“I don’t think he will.” It was soon their turn to order. “Six chocolate chip cookies, please.” He pulled out his wallet and paid for their snacks in cash, then moved to the other side of the counter to pick them up. He handed them to her, “Here.”

“Thank you.”

The two sat at a table—a similar table to the one they first sat at together, but this one was by the floor-to-ceiling windows. He opened the parchment bag the cookies were in and handed her one. “I will say,” he started with his mouth full, “he seemed off today.”

“See? I knew it—”

“But that doesn’t mean he’s being gross, alright? Everyone has an off-day every now and then.”

The two sat in silence after that. He watched students and professors alike walk past The Bistro, some of them entering the café to enjoy pastries and coffee like they were. He began to bounce his leg on the ball of his foot; something, she noticed, that he couldn’t help but do when he was deep in thought. Either that, or sitting cross-legged and wiggling his foot back and forth.

He cannot sit still. Neither can she usually—but it’s apparent that since she’s met him, he made her feel more comfortable…safe, even. She doesn’t pick at her fingers nearly as much.

“Does he make you uncomfortable?” he asked her after a few moments of them silently people-watching. “Are you uncomfortable around him?”

“Not really.” She replied, not knowing exactly how she felt about Chris. She was intrigued by him, yes; she found him attractive, certainly; but she still didn’t know him. And because of that, she seemed to be more on edge when speaking to him. Henry wasn’t anything like that.

“A part of me just has a feeling that he’s coming onto me.”

He coughed, almost choking on his lemonade. “Like, romantically?”

“Yeah. That’s what it seems like.”

He hummed in response. He got up and threw away his trash and hers, offering a hand to help her stand. They soon left The Bistro. He opened the car door for her, then pulled out of the parking lot.

The atmosphere shifted. She knew that there was some form of attraction towards him from her, but was it reciprocated? She didn’t know, but judging by the way his eyebrows were persistent in their angry furrowing, there was something wrong with what she said at the restaurant.

They eventually got back to their complex. He didn’t say a word to her on their trek from the lot to their hallway. “G’night.” He said simply, unlocking his front door and shutting it behind him.

***

Tags (DM to be removed): @lady-x-red  @justtwhst  @lokisbitch27 @boundtomyfate​  @cyberdoshee  @liquorlaughslove @heroine-of-color

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 10 - Shooting Star (Part 2)

The Ekiden continues!

Now that I finished the novel, I’m not sure what to do with myself now (work on my other translations lol)

Full list of translations here

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As he ran, Nico-chan recalled the phone call Kiyose had made to him when he was at the Odawara relay station. As dispassionately as ever, Kiyose had said,

“How are you feeling, Nico-chan-senpai?”

“Same as usual.”

“That’s good to hear. Please run as usual today.”

“Does that mean you don’t expect anything from me?”

“Of course not. What I mean is that Yuki ran exceeding our expectations, but don’t be influenced by that.”

“Hmph,” Nico-chan had sniffed. He wasn’t going to get so fired up by Yuki’s deeply impressive sprinting that he would lose sight of his own abilities.

“Well, I’ll go steadily.”

“Nico-chan-senpai,” Kiyose had said in a formal tone, “please maintain a pace of three minutes per kilometer. I’m sorry I can’t make it easier for you.”

“Haiji, come on.” Nico-chan scratched his head. “If you wanted it to be easy for me, then it would have been easier to not run at all. I wouldn’t have had to go on a diet or quit smoking. It was never going to be easy no matter what pace I’m running at. I’m just happy that I was able to get a healthy body, so don’t complain about how I rank either.”

“Yes.” Kiyose had seemed to be smiling. “Then, see you at Otemachi.”

He hadn't been lying about what he said to Kiyose: it would have been easier if he didn’t run. However, Nico-chan didn’t regret taking up track again after a long break; the pain of running, mixed with the joy of working toward a common goal with people close to him, had become sweet, and it was a taste he had long forgotten as he earned his own tuition and lived an independent life on his own.

With the wind blowing down from the mountains of Hakone at his back, Nico-chan ran. The seventh leg, which ran from Odawara to Hiratsuka, was 21.2 kilometers long. On the whole, the course was flat and easy to run. The route was the same as that of the outbound fourth leg, running in the opposite direction toward Tokyo, but it was slightly longer due to the detour at Oiso Station.

The first three kilometers, until they reached the town of Odawara, ran downhill, albeit gently. If he got carried away and increased his pace too much, the later half would be tough, so Nico-chan tried to keep his excitement and nervousness firmly in check and pace himself to fit with his stature.

That Haiji, he’s really good at observing people, Nico-chan thought. When he received the sash from Yuki, he was excited. At the same time, he also had a strong sense of pride, so he restrained himself from getting too excited and rushing in the first half. Kiyose probably read his personality and his relationship with Yuki and put Nico-chan in the seventh leg. Of course, he also must have thought that the seventh leg, with its few ups-and-downs, would be easier on Nico-chan’s legs and would be able to bring out his abilities to the fullest.

The thin rain continued to fall and his hair was now completely damp. It was easier to breathe on a rainy day than in the dry air. It was also fortunate that there wasn't much wind; running would have been out of the question if, on top of being soaked by rain, there had been a cold wind blowing from Hakone. The temperature was about one degree Celsius. It was said that the seventh leg was a course where the difference in the temperature could wear you out, but thanks to the rain, he didn’t seem to have to worry about that today. He would be running along the sea from now on, and the closer it got to noon, the more the temperature should increase.

The only problem is that my uniform is getting damp and sticking to my skin. Nico-chan frowned slightly. The lines of his body were clearly visible, making him feel as though he was running naked. Well, it’s been like that from the start.

Nico-chan wasn’t a fan of the light material of the running shirts and pants. Long-distance runners, men and women alike, had slender figures. Of course they had strong and supple muscles, but they almost looked like gazelles and antelopes. Such athletes would look good in uniforms made with a minimum of fabric, but unfortunately, Nico-chan was big-boned. Thanks to his diet, he was able to lose the extra fat, but he couldn’t whittle down his broad shoulders, imposing hip bones, or sturdy femurs.

When Nico-chan wore a uniform made of small, flimsy cloth, it looked as though there was an extremely large amount of skin showing. And now, it was wet and clinging to him.

It’s not like I’m a fat mermaid who was thrown up on the rocks, Nico-chan thought, embarrassed. I guess I should have at least trimmed my leg hair. To think that my hairy legs in all their glory will be delivered to living rooms all over the country.

He glanced at the legs of the runner running next to him. This guy’s leg hair isn’t even close to looking unsightly. Is it because he was born with thin body hair, or because he takes good care of it? Right after he thought that, he was shocked to realise that there was another runner next to him. Was he about to have another runner catch up and overtake him without realizing it? Nico-chan vigorously checked next to him, and then turned his head back to the road.

The runner next to him was from TSU, and he must have received his sash at the Odawara relay station about ten seconds before Nico-chan. He didn’t catch up to me, I caught up to him. Nico-chan checked his watch to make sure he was keeping pace. Okay, he nodded inwardly. I’ll be able to pull ahead of this TSU guy.

However, he couldn’t see any of the other schools in front of him. He had no idea what place he was running in, or what Kansei’s actual position was taking into account the delayed start time.

It was an unsure battle, so much so that his wet uniform was no longer a problem. As he thought that, Nico-chan entered the town of Odawara. There were crowds of people cheering by the road and waving flags, and among them there was a face that looked like a member of the shopping district, holding up Kansei’s banner and shouting something, but he couldn’t make it out because it was all mixed up in the surrounding chatter. It seemed that the only way to get information was to get it from the coach car behind him at the five-kilometer point.

For the time being, Nico-chan focused on maintaining his pace and pushing their nemesis, TSU, away. With only the landlord in the coach car he wasn’t sure if he could get the right information, but behind the landlord stood Kiyose, the shadow coach of Kansei University. Even at this moment, Kiyose should be working hard to gather information and advise the landlord in giving instructions to ease Nico-chan’s mind. Despite the fact that his own turn was approaching.  

Nico-chan trusted Kiyose’s ability as a coach. Kiyose was the second fastest runner after Kakeru on the Kansei team, but what made him stand out above all the others was his ability to see and allot people into roles. If it weren’t for him, they would have never come up with the idea to aim for Hakone, nor would they have actually made it this far.

Kiyose often ruled the residents of Chikusei-sou with an iron fist. However, he never blamed the residents for their inexperience in running, nor did he make light of their feelings and pride; he always tried to thoroughly teach the residents how to face running independently in ways that suited their personalities.

Because he had once experienced a setback in track and field, Kiyose was able to guide the residents of Chikusei-sou, almost all of whom were beginners. He had kindness, strength, and a conviction and passion for running. Nico-chan knew that very well, because he had also devoted himself to track until high school.

As soon as Nico-chan entered university, he quit track altogether. He saw no hope in running. As a high school student, he had taken the sport seriously—it was painful and tedious to set goals and run day after day, but he loved the act of running itself.

However, as Nico-chan got bigger, his bones got heavier. No matter how much he loved to run, as long as the competition was based on time, there was always the issue of physical aptitude. Of course he could run faster and for longer than other men his age, but it was difficult to see how he could continue to compete as a long-distance runner and aim for the top. That difficulty became apparent in his third year of high school; Nico-chan’s frame and disposition to store fat made him unsuited for long-distance running, to the point where it was hopeless even with effort.

Joining the track team in university, becoming active on a corporate team after graduation and then even competing on the world stage—he wondered how many such athletes were out there. The higher you aimed, the more you felt the brilliance of those with natural talent, because you had enough experience and practice to grasp your own ability, and you were made to realize that there were states you could never reach. In the face of his own stubbornly growing body, Nico-chan felt powerless.

Nico-chan’s misfortune was that he didn’t have a mentor to show him that it was okay to keep running even if he wasn’t a competitive athlete, and that if he loved running, he could enjoy it. Because he was still young and dedicated to track, at that time he felt like if he couldn’t attain great success as a runner, then it was all meaningless, and Nico-chan was so disappointed in himself that he distanced himself from track.

During his long years as a student, he learned how to live on his own and gained experience outside of track. And what he learned was that “meaningless” wasn’t bad. He wasn’t saying that to whitewash things. When you ran, you had to win. However, victory came in many forms. Just as there was no clear form of victory in life, victory wasn't just getting the best time among the participants.

The fact that Kiyose also had similar thoughts encouraged Nico-chan. It was both pitiable and absurd that he foolhardily thought there was only one way to victory when he was in high school. By distancing himself from running, Nico-chan had grown up, and with his sympathy and trust towards Kiyose, he threw himself back into days of running.

Kiyose was an excellent commander. He knew people’s pain, but he also knew the cold-heartedness of the world of sport. He understood all the differences in values and had driven on his mishmash of a team with a tenacious force of will and passion.

It’s Kakeru, who continued to give Haiji that passion, Nico-chan thought. Kiyose couldn’t leave it alone—he couldn’t leave Kakeru’s shining talent that was hard to come by alone, even after he got injured.

What’s amazing is that the two of them get on so well. Nico-chan wiped the raindrops from the bridge of his nose. It seemed that Kiyose and Kakeru were inspired by each other in every aspect, not just in running—at least it seemed that way to Nico-chan. They were moved by each other’s virtues and annoyed by each other’s faults. In other words, it's a proper bond between two fellow humans, Nico-chan thought. There was definitely something beautiful like friendship or love between those two; they could communicate to each other through running and their hearts. Nico-chan thought it was a miracle that the two of them met.

Nico-chan wanted to watch the connection and clashes between Kiyose and Kakeru forever. He wanted to see that very noble human state brought about by the act of the running.

That was why they had run together for the past year, and they were still running as hard as they could. As he passed through the town of Odawara, the TSU runner was falling back little by little. After crossing the Sakawa River, the rest was a straight road along the sea, and Nico-chan wondered if he would really be able to see the figure of the runner in front of him.

At the five-kilometer point, he heard the landlord’s voice from the coach car behind him.

“Nico-chan, right now, you’re running in thirteenth place. Koufu Gakuin should be 30 seconds ahead of you.”

The Koufu Gakuin runner for the seventh leg had a ten-thousand-meter time of 29 minutes and 10 seconds. He was a much faster runner than Nico-chan, and it was all he could do to keep the gap from widening. Nico-chan listened closely and analyzed the information he was given.

“In addition, Kansei’s ranking with the addition of the delayed start time is…” The landlord raised his voice through the microphone. “Sixteenth place at the end of the sixth leg!”

Even with Yuki sprinting and coming in second for the sixth leg, we’re still in sixteenth place? Nico-chan felt overwhelmed as he thought about the future. However, considering the fact that they had finished eighteenth in the outbound leg yesterday, they were slowly moving up again. The only thing to do was not give up now and hand over the sash with an even slightly better time.

“There’s a message from Haiji: ‘There is hope. Please don’t relax your pace.’ That’s all!”

Nico-chan raised his right hand slightly as a sign of acknowledgment. That’s right, there’s hope. It would be impossible for Kansei to win the Hakone Ekiden. They had already come in at eighteenth for the outbound leg, and even in the seventh leg of the return race, they had failed to make any remarkable progress. However, they were still in a position to aim for the top ten, where they would get seeded.

The reason why they were aiming for a top ten finish wasn’t because they wanted to participate in next year’s Hakone Ekiden unconditionally. They wanted to definitively bring an end to this battle with only ten people one way or another. They didn’t want anyone to say again that it was pointless for a team that didn’t even know if it would have enough runners to win the seed rights.

It wasn’t about meaningfulness or meaninglessness—they would run as much as they could now to show the proof and pride of what they had done.

Nico-chan’s arms, which were filled with heat, repelled the pouring winter rain.

---

King, who was running the eighth leg, and Musa, who was his attendant, were at the Hiratsuka relay station. King, who had just finished warming up, was running around the relay station, going to the restroom, and refusing to stay in one place. The relay station and the roadside were already packed with spectators, and King was nervous.

Musa decided to leave the restless King alone. No matter what he said to him, King wouldn’t stop wandering around like a hamster spinning in a wheel.

Well, he will settle down when he is tired. It is not a good idea to get tired before a race, but it seems that I have no choice but to let King-san do what gives him peace of mind, Musa decided. King had surprisingly sensitive nerves: if he was forced to hold back his movements, the tension would build up inside of him and he might explode.

That was why Musa was sitting alone on a plastic sheet spread out in a corner of the relay station, checking the progress of the race on his mobile TV. After cheering Yuki’s success, he was now watching Nico-chan’s running. Every once in a while, the screen would show him running the seventh leg. He was currently running near Ninomiya, a little past ten kilometers. There were many small ups and downs due to the bridge over the river, but he kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead and carried his legs in a steady form.

King finally regained his calm for a short while. He stopped running and sat down next to Musa.

“How is Nico-chan-senpai doing?”

Musa passed a blanket to King, who was peering at the screen.

“His pace has not slowed down. However, the gap between us and Koufu Gakuin University is widening. The opponent is faster.”

King wrapped himself in the blanket and began to do stretches while sitting.

“Our position?”

“It has not changed. We are running behind Koufu Gakuin and in front of TSU, so he is apparently in thirteenth place, but our overall time is still in sixteenth place.”

“Ah…”

King let out a sound that was somewhere between a response and a sigh, and rested his forehead on his stretched knees. When he was still, his body naturally trembled with anxiety.

“Yuki’s run was incredible.” King’s voice was cheerful, as though to shake off his tremors.

“It was. I am sure Shindou-san is pleased as well.” Musa smiled. The two of them remained silent for a while, staring absentmindedly at the scene in front of them from a low vantage point. The relay station was as lively as a fair, with runners, staff members, and spectators coming and going. Only the space around Musa and King was quiet, as though sound and time had left them behind. It felt like they were isolated in a tank filled with tension.

A pair of legs clad in track pants appeared in their fields of vision and stopped. When they looked up at the same time, they found TSU’s Sakaki looking down on them.

“It looks like this will be the last time the Kansei track team will be in Hakone. I guess you can say that it’s a good thing you don’t have to worry about a lack of members for next year.”

The polite and quiet tone of his voice made it impossible to ignore. King was about to stand up indignantly, but Musa grabbed the edge of the blanket and stopped him. Sakaki had also been entered into the eighth leg. He was about to run and he expressly came to talk to King, who was running in the same leg. Musa sensed Sakaki’s nervousness and pressure there.

“You still don’t know yet,” Musa replied calmly. “It is also a close call as to whether or not TSU can get seeded.”

“And right now, you guys are running behind us,” King fired back at Sakaki with sarcasm.

“Only outwardly. Besides, I’ll overtake you in the eighth leg,” Sakaki’s words were filled with strong determination. “It’s not just you, I’m going to overtake all the schools ahead of us.”

Heh heh, good luck, King muttered in his head.

“Why are you so worked up over this?” he asked out loud. Sakaki’s eyebrows shot up like broken windshield wipers.

“Of course I’m going to get worked up over this. This is the Hakone Ekiden. I’ve been running all my life to be in this event. Since middle school! You lot who are joking around and running for fun might not understand, though.”

“We are not running for fun.”

King was surprised when Musa said that and stood up abruptly. He faced Sakaki and continued, “There is no such painful playing as this. Sakaki-san, you should know that very well, yet why are you picking a fight with us? King-san will be setting off soon. Please do not say things to irritate him.”

You’re so cool, Musa. King, still wrapped in his blanket, looked up at Musa with feelings of reliability.

Behind Sakaki were the reserve upperclassmen for TSU. During the summer camp, the upperclassmen hadn’t been aware of Kansei, but that was not the case now, of course. “Sakaki, what are you doing?” they called out. They were worried about Sakaki, who was standing facing King and Musa. Sakaki, however, didn’t turn around.

King suddenly felt sorry for Sakaki. Starting with Kakeru, it wasn't only the Kansei members that were his rivals, but even his fellow TSU teammates were as well. He was so devoted to running and loved it so wholeheartedly that everyone around him was his enemy. He didn’t get along with anyone, didn’t get familiar with other people, and only cared about the times and rankings of other runners.

King felt pity for Sakaki, who could only face running in such a way. Putting his blanket aside, King stood up from the plastic sheet.

“Hey, are you having fun? You’ve always dreamed of being in the Hakone Ekiden, and now you’re going to run it. So why don’t you seem to be having fun at all?”

“Is it necessary for me to have fun?” Sakaki wasn’t shaken in the least. “This is a race.”

“It is, but…” King thought about how to put it in words. “Our captain, Kiyose, often says, it’s not enough to be fast. A long-distance runner has to be strong. I think he probably means that we should enjoy running.”

“How naïve,” Sakaki’s brows moved again. You guys are hopeless, he said, as though chiding a little kid for playing in the mud.

“If you want to make good memories during your school days, then have fun. It suits you guys. But I’m different: I fight and fight and win competitions. That’s why I run. I don’t want to be like Kurahara and degrade with the weak.”

“What did you say!” King quickly threw away the pity he had just felt and yelled at him, but Sakaki walked away quickly, seemingly satisfied that he said what he wanted to say.

“He really pisses me off.”

Musa soothed King, who was gnashing his teeth. “There are some good points in what Sakaki-san said.”

“That might be, but I’m still pissed off, so I’m calling Kakeru!”

King took out his phone from his jersey pocket.

---

Kakeru had just finished a light jog and was about to return to the Totsuka relay station. As he was thinking that his body was loosened up and that one more run after some stretching would be just perfect, Jouji, who was in charge of their bags, beckoned to him.

“Kakeru, your phone’s ringing.”

He accepted his phone from Jouji and checked the display. He thought it would be Kiyose, but it was actually King.

“Yes?”

Before he could ask if anything was wrong, King’s loud voice attacked Kakeru’s eardrums.

“Kakeru! You have to be number one! Make that annoying brat frustrated and drown in a sea of tears! You understand!?”

King talked on and on one-sidedly, and then hung up. He was so angry that even the people around him could hear him from the receiver.

“What was that just now?”

“Who knows…”

Kakeru and Jouji looked at each other.

“It’s pretty rare to see King-san so excited.”

“The only times he’s like that are when he’s participating in a push-button quiz show from outside the TV.”

“Oh, I got it!” Jouji pretended to push an answer button. “TSU’s Sakaki is running in the eighth leg, right? He must have said something to him at the relay station.”

That also seemed like the correct answer to Kakeru. King seemed to have forgotten his nervousness in his anger, which was good, but when he thought about how much Sakaki hated him, he felt miserable.

He didn’t intend to show his sorrow on his face, but Jouji seemed to sense it.

“You should just let it go,” he said and clapped Kakeru on the back. “I do want you to be number one, though.”

“Of course I’m going to run to make that happen, but…”

Jouji wasn’t purely cheering for Kakeru, but also seemed to have some other meaning in his words. When Kakeru looked at him, Jouji smiled shyly.

“I’m thinking of confessing to Hana-chan when Haiji-san crosses the finish line in Otemachi. Oh, I can’t wait.”

I see, Kakeru nodded. So Jouji is hoping for a quick race.

“But Jouji, even if you hurry from here, I’d be doubtful if you can make it to Otemachi in time for Haiji-san to cross the finish line.”

“No way, really!?”

“Probably. I watch the TV broadcast every year, and the runners who finish the eighth leg often don’t make it back from Totsuka to Otemachi within the broadcast time.”

“What should I do! Should I head for Otemachi right now?”

If it was for love, Jouji would abandon his attendant duties.

“I don’t mind, but I think Haiji-san will find out and drown you in a sea of blood.”

“You’re right.” Jouji began to writhe in agony. “I’ll have to make sure with my own eyes that the sash is relayed to you. I wonder if Hana-chan will wait for me.”

Hanako would wait for the twins to come to Otemachi no matter what without being told to. Even if it was until nighttime or she got buried under heavy snowfall. Kakeru thought that, but only said, “I wonder.” Kakeru was pretty dense, but Jouji’s denseness was as vexing as watching an armadillo move forward. It was probably fine to tease him this much.

As Kakeru laughed at himself inwardly at this narrow-minded revenge, someone called out to him, “Kansei always looks like they’re having fun.”

When he turned around, he saw Fujioka of Rikudou University standing there. He seemed to have been listening to the exchange between Kakeru and Jouji, and he had a smile on his face that reminded Kakeru of the Buddha in Nirvana. His smooth-shaven head was as shining as ever on this cloudy day.

“Wait, wait, this person is…” Jouji tugged on Kakeru’s sleeve.

“Happy New Year,” Kakeru greeted.

“Please treat me well this year as well, okay?” Fujioka said, like he was poking fun at him a little, and then his expression immediately turned serious. “The time has finally come.

“Kurahara. I’m going to set a new record for the ninth leg.”

Kakeru was overawed for a moment at the bold declaration. Fujioka wasn’t saying he was simply going to get the section prize—he wasn’t saying that he would be the top runner in the ninth leg of this tournament, but that he would be the top runner of all the runners in the ninth leg in the history of the Hakone Ekiden.

A new section record. It was a sign that one had broken a great record that had accumulated throughout the history of the Hakone Ekiden. It had a great significance, changing from the position of a challenger to the position of a transcendent competitor who was looked up to and pursued. In particular, the record for the ninth leg had not been broken for the past five years. For the runners of Hakone, setting a new section record was its own glory.

“I will break your record, Fujioka-san,” Kakeru proudly lifted his face and declared. “I think you will be the holder of the new section record for about ten minutes.”

Even Jouji trembled in surprise and fear at Kakeru’s audacious declaration of war. Fujioka of Rikudou would be the first to receive his sash and start running, no matter what. Even if he sets a new record, it will only be a “new record” until I, who departed late, arrive at the Tsurumi relay station, Kakeru had said bluntly.

Jouji stealthily examined the two of them standing their ground. Both Kakeru and Fujioka had a fighting spirit and anticipation for each other’s running in their eyes. Nobody could touch them, nobody could force themselves between them. It was a collision of pride.

Fujioka Kazuma of Rikudou University, the champion, and Kurahara Kakeru, the ace of Kansei University, the mishmash group. The people at the Totsuka relay station noticed the flames of spirit the two were emitting, and their hearts beat fast.

The time had finally come. The time had come for the clash between running prodigies, fitting for the finale of the Hakone Ekiden.

---

There was no sign of anyone to follow, and no sound of footsteps trying to hurry and catch up. Nico-chan was running alone on Route 1 along the coast.

Spectators crowded along the road. Right behind him was the landlord in the coach car. At the fifteen-kilometer mark, a water provider wearing a Kansei jersey told him the time difference between him and the runners in front of and behind him. Even so, Nico-chan was alone. Encouraged by the cheers that came off the sea breeze, he had no choice but to run silently, letting Kiyose’s instruction of “keep a pace of a little over three minutes” echo in his brain.

Yes. This feeling of loneliness is long-distance running. Nico-chan thought. Loneliness and freedom, like traveling under a starless night sky. No one but Nico-chan could know his heart rate rising to the limit, his skin slick with sweat that generated heat without time to cool down, the undulating of his muscles along with his blood flow. Until he ran through the predetermined path and reached the predetermined place, Nico-chan would have to continue to fight a battle no one else could understand, without being touched by anyone.

I’d forgotten for a long time. I’d pretended to forget. The sadness and joy of running in this way. It was the residents of Chikusei-sou who reminded me of this. Ever since the moment I quit track, I’ve always been waiting—for another chance to be given to me—for someone who knows my body is unsuited for athletics, but seeks and wants my soul, which loves to run. For a voice to tell me that it’s okay to run.

Nico-chan knew that this was going to be his last run as an athlete. The road to becoming a competitive athlete was not open to him, and it would be difficult for him to keep up with the intense training and still achieve even more than that.

Nico-chan was not chosen, nor was he blessed. If there was someone like that, then they should be called the god of track and field. One would understand if they watched Kakeru from up close. He wished with all his heart that he could be a chosen and blessed runner like Kakeru, but it was a wish that was never going to be fulfilled.

But so what, Nico-chan thought. Even if he wasn’t chosen, he could still love running. The feeling of difficult-to-control love in his heart was like the loneliness and freedom that was contained in the act of running and shone brilliantly within Nico-chan. Now that he had it, it would remain forever, so it was okay. Now he would put everything he could do into his final run, and his long-lasting thoughts towards the sport would end today.

From in front of Oiso Station, he turned north off Route 1 and entered a detour. With less than a kilometer to go, Nico-chan could clearly see a live broadcast car ahead. Behind it, he caught a glimpse of the Maebashi Kouka runner who had slowed down and was falling back. At the same time, Nico-chan felt the presence of someone approaching him. He didn’t have to turn around to know: TSU was catching up.

His mind wandered, but Nico-chan firmly kept it in check. Having run twenty kilometers, the consumption of his stamina was intense. Don’t get impatient. His pace was a little over three minutes per kilometer. He had to keep it up a little longer, and then it was in the last three hundred meters that he had to push.

Nico-chan trusted his senses. Like a bird crossing the sea without the stars, he kept a precise rhythm as he headed for his destination, the Hiratsuka relay station. The wall of people along the road got noticeably thicker with people pouring out of the relay station. The Maebashi Kouka runner seemed to have his chin completely up. This is the place, Nico-chan intuited.

Nico-chan whipped his fevered muscles into a spurt and began his hot pursuit. The TSU runner had the same thought and increased his speed as though flicked. There was the faint taste of blood in his throat, but Nico-chan endured the creaking and pain all throughout his body. The crowd of people at the relay station wavered, and he saw King rush out onto the line. The eighth leg runner for Maebashi Kouka and TSU’s Sakaki were also standing on the line. The three were side by side and calling out to their teammates who were racing towards them.

Nico-chan removed his sash. It was damp from absorbing his sweat, and he gripped it like it was a lifeline. King was the only thing he saw. With only that black and silver uniform in his sights, he ran.

The predetermined place. I’ve returned.

“I’ll do it too, Nico-chan-senpai.”

King, who had been handed the sash, quickly murmured that and then started running without looking back. Nico-chan wordlessly nodded and pushed King’s back. Towards Otemachi.

While flopping down onto the bench coat Musa spread out, Nico-chan stopped his wristwatch which was recording his time. For him, who had crossed the world of timed competitions, he no longer needed it.

Nico-chan’s final record was a 21.2 kilometer run in 1 hour 6 minutes and 21 seconds. He was in twelfth place.

Kansei had relayed their sash at the Hiratsuka relay station in twelfth place. They were four seconds behind Maebashi Kouka, and had relayed their sash at the same time as TSU.

Thanks to Nico-chan’s efforts, Kansei had moved up to fifteenth place in the actual rankings after adding the time from the delayed start. TSU, although apparently behind Kansei, was still in thirteenth place. Rikudou and Bousou were also battling for the top spot, with Bousou holding onto the lead, more than a minute and a half ahead of Rikudou. Yamato University, in third place, was lagging behind Rikudou by three minutes.

Would there be any change in the rankings of the top schools? Who would get the seed rights among the schools that were engaged in a close battle around tenth place? The deadlocked time difference that hid an unsettled stillness didn’t yet indicate anything about the outcome of the battle.

Nico-chan was lying in a corner of the relay station, looking up at the eastern sky. His hopes were not dashed. King, Kakeru, Haiji. Run towards the finish line at Otemachi. We’re going to prove it. We’re going to prove what made us run this far.

His exhaustion had reached its limits, but Nico-chan raised himself up in order to see the end with his own eyes. Musa, who was quietly standing by, gently put a hand on his shoulder to help him up. After gathering their belongings, Musa and Nico-chan left the Hiratsuka relay station with uncooled excitement and set off for Otemachi.

Previous | Next

[usedtobe-angstyoikawa]

Found him

Oikawa Tooru x gn!reader

Summary: part 2 of this

Warnings: little bit of angst but it gets better I promise

Word count: 2047

a/n: you asked for it so here it is, I hope I didn’t fuck it up :)

———————————————————————

He hated rainy days, they made him wanna stay in bed and do nothing but sleep. The sound of his alarm going off for the third time that morning reminded him it was time to get up though. He hurried out of bed and tried getting ready as fast as he could, brushing his teeth while peeing at the same time wasn’t and easy task but he managed. Having breakfast wasn’t an option, neither was taking a shower, he was already running late to his first meeting as a professional. Some crackers and cologne will have to do, he thought before running out of his house and towards the bus stop.

You had woken up early that same morning, enjoying the peaceful sound of silence and the warmth of your hot beverage. After taking a long shower you got ready for work and searched for your car keys, which you were sure you had placed on top of the kitchen table the night before. You spent almost 15 minutes looking for the damn keys until you found them on the living room floor next to the sofa. Just when you were getting up your eyes caught a glimpse of a very familiar face smiling at you from behind a glass. It was yours and Oikawa’s graduation picture, that was taken way back when you were two reckless teens. After that day (and the horrible scene that still played in your mind every now and then) you hadn’t heard from him, except you knew he had moved to Argentina to play for the San Juan volleyball team. You weren’t mad at him and you were pretty sure he wasn’t mad at you either, there was no reason to be. Both of you were busy with college and volleyball, not to mention figuring out how the adult life worked, so you simply fell out of touch. As for what had happened between him and Iwaizumi you had no idea. You hoped they had realize how crazy they were for each other and started dating already, but you knew they didn’t really believe in long distance relationships so you doubted that had happened. Still, you were sure that if you ever bumped into them you’d be able to say hi without hurting like you used to. And with that thought roaming your mind you got in your car and drove to work.

The sound of the elevator doors closing and opening made him nervous, or maybe it was the tick in his left eye and the smell of a strong cologne coming from the man behind him. How could anyone wear such an amount of hideous vomiting scent, he thought. Before he could start complaining out loud the elevator reached his floor and he slowly walked to the conference room. He knew he was late, he had actually planed on it as soon as he was told who had been assigned as his interviewer. Was he being childish? Probably. Was there a reason for him to be acting that way? Probably not, but still he took his time while making his way to the last glass door in the hall.

You were sitting at the table with a bunch of other coworkers and your boss, waiting for your clients to arrive. You let out an annoyed sigh as you read through the pages that had been given to you with your client’s requests. Apparently you were about to meet a professional athlete with a tight schedule and many fans waiting for the new information to drop. For an instance your mind thought of a certain brown haired boy but instantly shook it away, he wasn’t even in the same continent as you were. Or so you thought. Suddenly the glass doors flew open and you heard the unmistakable voice of said boy, that was now a man.

He was almost a hundred percent sure he was lost. Had he taken the right elevator? Yeah, there was no other one. Maybe he was in the wrong building? No way he had double checked the address. Why did all the rooms look the same? How come none of them had a number or tag on each door? Man his boss was gonna kill him, he had warned him these people didn’t like waiting. He had decided to go back on his steps and star again from the elevator when he bumped into someone who looked like they worked there. Thank god.

“ Hello Mr Oikawa, I’m the head director of the magazine’s sports section” the sound of your boss’s voice echoed in your head but you couldn’t process anything he was saying. “ We’re so glad to have you here, I was told by your manager that you don’t have enough free time for a proper interview and obviously time isn’t something we have abundance of. So, here’s what we’re gonna do…” he proceeded to explain to the volleyball player how we had managed to arrange a joined interview with a fellow athlete.

“It sounds okay, I can’t say I’m excited though I don’t really mind sharing the spotlight. Plus I’ve read your magazine in many occasions and I can tell your writers have experienced in the volleyball field” his eyes were set in you and he gave you a small smile. You tried to smile back but you still couldn’t believe he was standing in front of you. Just this morning you had thought of him after such a long time of hearing nothing from him and there he was. As if that hadn’t been socking enough, the glass doors opened again and your second client entered the room. Brown spiked hair and a sweaty face caught everyones attention.

“Hello, I’m sorry I’m late the bus took forever to get through the morning traffic and I have to say these glass doors rooms look all the same” the man started while trying to catch his breath. As soon as he looked up from the floor his eyes scanned the room and stopped at the athlete. They looked at each other for a while without uttering a word, even when your boss started talking they still held each other’s gaze.

Oh to think that same morning you had thought you’d be fine with seeing them again. How naive.

After your boss finished explaining how and when the interview was gonna take place, he decided to introduce both men.

“And this is who you’ll be interviewed with, I’m pretty sure you already know who he is. Oikawa Toruu, professional volleyball player” he said “ And Oikawa this is Iwaizumi Hajime, Japan’s volleyball team’s coach he’s new to this so please be nice”

“Oikawa” said the shorter man while giving a nod with his head.

“Iwaizumi” the other greeted “ Its nice to see you again”

You could tell by the atmosphere in the room that those two had never confessed to the other. The tension could be cut with a butter knife.

“Oh! You already know each other that’s great. Now meet your interviewer, they’re one of our most talented writers in the sports section and they happen to know a lot about volleyball” and so everyone’s eyes were on you. You could tell Hajime wasn’t sure if he knew you or not, even if you had gone to the same high school you weren’t sure he remembered you. “You can follow them into the room next door and start discussing the details for the interview. I promise you you’re gonna be amazed by their skills”

“Trust me we know how great they are.” It was Tooru’s voice. You still didn’t know what to say so you exited the room and told the two grown men behind you to follow. “ Now are you going to interview us or are we back to hating each other” he joked as soon as you closed the glass door and you couldn’t believe that after all those years it still felt the same. You laughed along with Iwaizumi, who apparently did recognize you.

“This is crazy” he said “How long has it been? And you’re a journalist? I can’t believe I didn’t know about this”

“Yeah well, we all took different paths so it’s not that surprising I guess” you tried to play it off as if the whole situation didn’t have an effect on you.

“Oh no, not at all. I have to confess I knew you worked here” Tooru said “ But I certainly didn’t know you were gonna be here too, Iwa-chan” your heart stopped at the mention of that old nickname. You could see the blush covering Iwaizumi’s cheeks and it made you smile. It was so painfully obvious that even after all that time they still were head over heels for each other. But, like the last time you didn’t say a word, it was none of your business and you were only there to do your work.

The interview went smoothly, the three of you laughed and had a good time remembering old high school stories. Oikawa would give you a panicked look every time his love life was mentioned, but you managed to keep the sport as the main focus of the interview.

Once it was finished, you went for a coffee together and talked about your lives and careers. Iwaizumi was the first to leave, excusing himself saying something along the lines of training and team. You stayed a little longer with Tooru, chatting and asking him questions about Argentina and the friends he’d made.

“It was a great experience but there’s nothing like home you know. I really missed this.” his words would’ve warmed your heart only if they had been meant for you, even though they were directed to you it was clear he was talking about his childhood best friend and crush.

“You know I really thought you were going to confess to him back then” the words left your mouth without even realizing it. The boy next to you tended his shoulders and then let out a sigh.

“I couldn’t do it, I knew he didn’t feel the same way and I didn’t want to ruin the friendship” you knew exactly how that felt but that was different, there was no way his friend wasn’t in love with him. Whereas in your case you did know your crush didn’t like you back, hell he had even said it to your face. Still, both situations sucked and you knew better than anyone that keeping your feelings bottled up for too long wasn’t ideal. “I also knew you liked me” those words took you by surprise.

“Excuse me”

“Oh don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Iwaizumi told me, just when I was about to confess to him he said you should ask them out.” Oh, that’s why he though his feelings weren’t reciprocated. “I’m pretty sure I owe you and apology for not realizing sooner, you were always there for me but still I couldn’t see it and kept talking about my crush on someone else. So yeah, I’m sorry for that.” He was being sincere and you could tell he was a bit ashamed too.

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” you grabbed his hand and looked him in the eye “That doesn’t change the fact that you two are idiots and still need me to solve your problems. Now I promised myself I would never get involved in this, but I’m not gonna let my friends spend the rest of their lives alone. So, get your ass out of this café and go after your man before I punch you in the face”

“Okay okay I’m doing this, he can’t reject me I’m basically perfect” he hyped himself up before getting up and walking up to the door. Before closing it he popped his head inside again and looked at you. “Oh and Y/N” you gave him a small smile “Thank you, you’re the best friend I could’ve asked for” and with that he turned around and left not only the café but your heart too, finally freeing that space he was never meant to fill and placing himself on the right top shelf, the center of it now empty and ready to welcome a new beginning.

First part

[melodyalanaroster]

Dear @chinomiko,

When I first started playing My Candy Love on New Year’s Day in 2013, I was simply a 17 year old girl who was starting the second half of my Senior Year in High School. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, and I certainly had no idea where I’d end up. At the time, I was just looking for a new anime style site to call my internet home after the destruction of TinierMe. In my search, I stumbled upon your site. I had never played a dating simulator before, and I fell for your art style, so I decided to give the site a shot. It didn’t take me long to bond with Nathaniel... He was a kind young man, who loved to read, and had a tortured home life... Even though the torture at home was different between him and me, I still felt like I had found a character I could recognize... Hell, I did the same thing with Ken... My bond with Nathaniel was just so much deeper... 

Then I graduated High School... I had no college prospects, and no idea what I even wanted to go to college for (still entirely don’t know).... My issues at home were getting worse, my love life was far from perfect, and living in Texas can be kind of ruthless on those who aren’t following the status quo... Even with going to the United Kingdom for 5 weeks, things still didn’t get better... And of course, the death of my childhood cat, Luna, in 2014 made things worse... So, I started focusing my free time on the game.... Working like crazy to get up to date with the episodes and bonus episodes, editing pics, and even writing fanfics... It became my escape from real life.

That did not change when I met the love of my real life in 2015. Despite entering into a relationship that is still going strong, I needed an escape from the hell my abuser was putting my family and me through, from the shitty job that I had gotten (and still have as of this letter), and from the hell that a really rare disease that had kicked on in my mother’s immune system had begun to put her and my family through. No amount of talking to people in my inner circle in real life helped... And there were times where it felt like the only emotions I knew were anger, sadness, and fear... It was during this time that my main MCL OC, Melody Alana Roster, came to life as what she is today... A strong, smart, beautiful, powerful, woman who goes through some of the worst hell imaginable and ends up living a life of peace with the man she loves (Nathaniel).... When my abuser’s time in my family’s and my life was ending and she was going “all out” on me? I thought of what Alana and Nathaniel would be doing during the newest episode of the game. My job putting me through mental and physical hell (it’s a very demanding job)? I daydreamed about Nathaniel and Alana. My mother’s disease progressing and making my mother put my grandmother and me through hell? I would go in my room and write a section of my story or edit a pic when I could. Hell, My Candy Love became so prominent in my life as an escape that when my abuser’s daughter came back at me (this time with my boyfriend’s ex friend), one of the things she’d say to me was “All you do is sit in your room and write fanfiction.”... I needed something and My Candy Love and it’s fandom was something I enjoyed that kept me in my room (where I felt safe)... To this day, my boyfriend understands why I’ve put so much time and effort into it... Why I’ve spent so much money on it (AP, Gold, commissioned pics, and items)... It was a light in what felt like a sea of darkness in my life...

Now, I’m going to clarify something here... What is written in the last paragraph took place over the course of 5 years... Of course, when I get to the point of 2020, its easy to guess some of the reasons why I continued to focus on My Candy Love... However, I have an added reason.... Not only did the pandemic bitch slap Texas mid March, but about a week before that happened, on March 10th, my mother succumbed to the secondary infection brought on by her disease... And I had to grieve... Of course, when the pandemic hit about week later, I was told by society that I didn’t have time to grieve... As I am a grocery store worker... Which, I still tried to use My Candy Love as a means of escape... It felt like life was going “Yeah, you’re free from your mom’s disease, now here’s one that YOU could bring home to your grandparents and kill them with simply by going to work!”... Because, I’m sure even you know how poorly America has handled the pandemic... And Texas is one of the worst states when it comes to that...

I’m not saying this to make you feel sorry for me... Not in the slightest... I’ve leaned on my family, friends, and boyfriend for everything, so it’s not JUST My Candy Love that got me through all of this... I’m telling you this because My Candy Love and what I’ve done for it has helped me with it all immensely. I thought I had lost my passion for writing while I was still in school, even though my favorite teacher was encouraging me to continue... And here I am still writing my MCL fanfiction... Not only am I still writing my fanfic, I’m getting it turned into 1 copy of an actual book for my shelf when I’m done... When I took photography in High School and wasn’t good at photoshop, I thought it would never be a skill I’d use... And, yet, over the course of my time with MCL, my photo editing skills have improved DRASTICALLY... Sure, I can’t really edit real life photos... But I can make stuff for MCL avatars and such...

I mean, if someone had told me 8 years ago that I’d be so invested in this game that I’d have a body pillow of my favorite love interest, a folder of commissioned art, a blog with over 1,300 followers, an Instagram with nearly 300 followers, a custom plushie of my favorite love interest, a Discord Server with around 200 people in it... That I’d be the Vice President/Club Photographer of the US version of a fan club... That I’d make friends throughout the world in the fandom... That my editing skills would become as good as they are now... That I’d be working on the biggest writing project I’ve EVER worked on... And that I’d cry at the last episode the same way I cried during the Season 8 finale of Scrubs, the series finale of iCarly, Matt Smith’s regeneration in Doctor Who and the ending of Deathly Hallows Part 2... I would have told them that they’re crazy....

Yet... Here I am... I’m turning 26 years old in July... And all of that has happened... In real life, I’m still dealing with the pandemic, I’ve celebrated my 5 year anniversary with my boyfriend, and I’m even preparing to move in with him... Yet, online, I’m still VERY invested in your game. I’m still a long way from finishing my OC’s story... I still want to edit pics for Nathaniel and Alana... And I’m going to be contemplating playing the new game for a while... I’ll still play events... As long as Nathaniel is around, I’ll be there to greet him with a smile... But I don’t know about your new project...

All that being said.... There’s one MAJOR thing I’d like to say to you, Chino....

THANK YOU!

Thank you for everything! For all your hard work in this story... It’s far from perfect, but I still enjoyed the majority of it... For creating Nathaniel, the holder of my 2D heart.... Seriously, thank you for creating him... I have anime crushes, but I don’t love them as deeply as I love Nath.... Thank you for your art! Its amazing! You’re in my top 3 favorite digital artists... The others being Drachea Rannak and Marco Albiero... Thank you for all the work you continue to put into the game that a lot of us have, kind of, grown up with.... I wasn’t really a kid when I started playing, but I do consider myself to have “grown up” with it... Thank you for all of the other love interests... For Castiel, Kentin, Armin, Lysander, Priya, Rayan and Hyun... They’re not the ones I love most, but they’re all interesting characters... Thank you for Candy... While she and Alana greatly differ from each other, Candy was the heroine in a story that gave birth to Alana... Candy is far from perfect, but I’m glad her story ended well.... Thank you for creating the game that brought this fandom into existence... While the fandom can be VERY toxic at times, there are a lot of amazing people in it... They have become some of my dearest friends...

While the entire My Candy Love team at Beemoov deserves my gratitude... I feel like you are the most deserving of it... Because, without you, My Candy Love would not exist.

I look forward to seeing My Candy Love’s future... Either from the sidelines, or from the middle of it... I will see it’s future...

Thank you ChiNoMiko.

All my love and respect,

Melody Alana Roster

[iamjungkooked]

Mr. Min

↳Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

↳Genre: Romance (all fluff)

↳Word count: 4.7K

↳Rating: G

↳Warnings: None

↳Summary:

Min Yoongi is the asshole boss who keeps you late at work every night. But then you find out why and it gives you the upper hand.

A/N: I hope you guys like it!! Finally wrote something less than 5k. It has been a while for sure. Cross posting this from my other blog @iamtaekooked​. You guys have been following me on here even though i am like never on here its crazy. I LOVE YOU ALL. THANK YOU SO MUCH. I AM GOING TO TRY POSTING MORE IF MY LIFE LETS ME.

Your hand begins cramping as you finish writing the report for asshole number one Min Yoongi. Writing a report is easy, but having to write it by hand is what makes you want to strangle him. The tiny blue desk clock strikes 11 pm and once again you lose out on the opportunity to live your life. At this point, you have lost track of how many times you have stayed late at the office while your friends enjoy their weekends with dinners, movies and activities. Sometimes it’s so bad that you video call them just as you’re about to drift off to sleep.

You don’t even bother to hope to go home early anymore. Min Yoongi always finds ways to make you stay late with him. You went through the five stages of grief at first because you felt your life was being taken away from you. You even thought of threatening him with a lawsuit because he couldn’t make you work over 40 hours a week. When you did he was quick to turn the tables by offering you overtime pay-- and not a measly sum. It was money you couldn’t turn away. So, once again you let yourself fall prey to his actions.

Slowly but surely you began getting used to this so-called “routine”. Gradually, hours started fading into one another until one day you became so habituated with staying late (and to the mind-boggling pay) that Yoongi didn’t even have to come to your cubicle to hand you anything. You already asked him in the morning for your evening assignment. One would think this would be a hint for him-- but no. The man was as clueless as one could be.

Like any other night, you had an assignment, one which Yoongi labelled as important. But then again everything was important. Any task he assigned (or rather you asked for) he classified as important. You wondered if he understood what the word means because if everything is important then technically nothing is. Rather than ask him about it, which wasn’t necessary anyway you did what you were handsomely paid to do.

A sigh passed your dry lips. Once again you grabbed the pen and began writing-- this time going as fast as your wrist would allow. The ink flowed from the pen to the paper in black scribbles, hardly understandable. But you could not bring yourself to care. He would have to deal with it, and that was that.

Having written the last sentence, you capped the pen and pushed back the chair so you could go to his office. Your heels hurt from wearing six-inch pumps all day. No less would do because turns out asshole Min Yoongi had made that provision because apparently, it looked “more professional”. While walking to his office you just imagined torturing him in your mind by making him wear these fucking heels. It was slightly comical imagery but also satisfying, so much so that you could not help yourself from smiling.

You knocked on the opaque glass door as you reached his office. It was customary for you to knock once and for him to not answer. Normally you would slide the documents or whatever is needed under the door because Yoongi had specifically requested he not be disturbed. But something prompted you to stick your head against the glass door and peer inside through the clear margins. You couldn’t see anything so despite Yoongi’s “request” you turned the knob, opened the door slightly and peeked your head inside. The scene in front of you however was not quite something you were expecting.

Min Yoongi was laying back against his very comfortable looking plush leather rotating chair, with his headphones on, legs resting on top of the table and his eyes fixed with a concentration on his laptop. There were empty boxes of takeout at his desk and the whole image conveyed to you that he hadn’t actually done any work. It was an inkling, which means you could be wrong. But you would be damned if you didn’t make your presence known.

You walked inside, standing halfway between him and the door and cleared your throat as loud as you could. There was no response as expected. You walked a few steps and stopped just short of his desk, yet he still did not notice you. You looked at the report in your hand and threw it on his desk, which landed with a thud. He jumped, and finally looked at you. It took a second but the realization dawned on him. His eyes bulged like he had been caught red-handed and you noticed his adam’s apple bob as he gulped hard.

He hastily took off his earphones and straightened in his chair. “I thought I told you not to disturb me”

“I am sorry, did I ruin the fun?” your brows knit together.

“Do you have the report?” he asked instead.

You look at the papers on his desk and then back at him to make him aware of it sitting in front of his eyes.  

He fumbles with the papers and picks them up. While he’s busy scanning the papers you take in the state of his desk. One side is completely neat with all the binders and files organized, and the other is just filled with trash. As you’re busy studying the contents of his desk, you notice the name of your client’s company on one of the papers. Curiously you reach towards the file, Yoongi still busy reading your report. You scan the pages and realize without even having to read halfway through it that Yoongi had already finished the report and it was marked with yesterday’s date, which means he already sent it to the client.

“Do you care to explain this Mr. Min?” your fingers curl into a fist around the papers.

His eyes widen once more. “Oh shit” he mumbles-- a deer caught in the headlights expression on his face.

He sighs, dropping your report on the table. “Oh fuck” he rubs his forehead. “It’s nothing,” he says with a straight face just a moment after looking like he’d been caught.

“It looks like you already completed the report. Why did I have to do it if you already did it?”

“I wanted you to” he’s quick to reply.

“I am sorry Mr. Min but that is not a good enough explanation. I stayed here even though I did not have to. I find it unfair that I have to do work that has already been done-- and that too by you. I doubt you don’t trust yourself with work”

“That’s enough with the questions” he replied curtly.

“Wait a minute” you look back at the pile of papers on his desk and find a presentation he had asked you to make for him a week ago. However,  the date this presentation was printed was a week before that which means that once again he made you do something that had already been done. Sensing a pattern you decided to confront him right then and there.

“Pardon my french, but why the hell have I been doing work that had already been done?”

Yoongi sighed once more, but this time he sounded more defeated than the first. “Look, I can’t give you an explanation you will like. There isn’t one. But I’ll tell you the truth”

“Good” you fold your arms across your chest.

“You won’t like this either but I asked you to stay late because I wanted you to be here with me. I never got used to working late at night. Something about being alone always irked me, so I started keeping people around. It’s not right, I know” he’s quick to justify just as he noticed you opening your mouth to speak. “Trust me, I know. But then when Brian left and you joined, I knew that I needed you around. So I started asking you to stay late. Turns out, I liked your company more than I have liked anyone else’s so I even started paying you to stay late, which I have never done either” he finishes, The only problem is he doesn’t sound sincere enough. It’s like he’s telling you for the sake of telling you.

“I am sorry Mr. Min but you are not a child. I can’t be putting my life on hold just so you don’t have to be alone at night. Do you have any idea how many occasions and opportunities I have missed in my life because of this? I couldn’t attend my best friend’s graduation, I couldn’t be there for the birth of my nephew because I was here slaving away. To think it was for nothing is terrible. You should really say sorry” you glare at the man, demanding an apology you know you deserve because it doesn’t matter how much money you got paid. It won’t compensate for the memories you could have made.

He purses his lips. “I won’t” he shakes his head. “I know it’s wrong but I don’t say sorry”

You scoff. “You’re an asshole”

He shrugs as if your remark doesn’t bother him in the slightest. “Be that as it may. I did what I did because I like having you around. In fact, I did it because I like you and I am not ashamed of it”

Under normal circumstances, you probably would have been flattered and even blushed at having been confessed to. But these weren’t normal circumstances and on top of that, it was Min Yoongi.

“How about this-- you can go home early for all of next week” he offers.

It actually makes your blood boil because he thinks he’s being generous. But even if you gave him a wide berth, this wasn’t even cutting it close “All of next month actually” you counter, determined in your own way to make him apologize for his actions.

He considers it. A few beats of silence pass as both of you continue to stare at each other. “Fine” he agrees.

“Good.” you say shortly, before turning on your heels and heading towards the door.

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Yoongi ends up keeping his word for the whole of next month. If it were up to you, you would have asked him that you will never stay late. But after your anger had died down in a week or so, the rational part of your mind convinced you that the money was too good. And it was. So you didn’t try to extend it.

In that one month, however, Yoongi was being awfully generous towards you. You figured it was his way of making up for his actions.

After a week of your heated conversation with him, you found a bouquet of flowers at home addressed to your best friend. There was no name on it. It turned out you did not need a name, because one you knew whose handwriting it was and secondly, the apology was enough for you to know who they were from.

I am sorry y/n missed your graduation. I realize she should have been there with you and it is my fault she was not. I can’t turn back time but I hope these flowers and this small gift make up for it. Congratulations on your achievement.

Accompanying the flowers was a generous gift, one which could have only been given by Yoongi. A full spa weekend with your best friend. It was an all-inclusive offer.

It felt like he was bribing you to forgive him. But even if that were the case, you felt you deserved this and you would be damned if you let it go to waste. If this is how he wanted to apologize, then so be it. In a way, he was giving you the opportunity to spend quality time with Hana.

Hana was ecstatic. “Isn’t it sweet?” she said dreamily.

You couldn’t help but scoff. “It’s not sweet. It’s what he should be doing. Not this exact thing per se. But he needs to be making up for what he did and he is” you reminded her.

“Fine” Hana was quick to give up because even she knew not to argue.

To apologize, at the end of the month Yoongi also ends up giving you the biggest client. This one you feel conflicted about because you can’t discern his intention. So you do the only thing you can. You went charging to his office to demand an explanation.

Maybe he heard you coming but before you could even open your mouth after entering the room he was already speaking.

“I know,” he says as he gave you one glance before focusing on his laptop as he typed away. “I gave you a client because you deserve it. Trying to make up for troubling you is also part of it, but it’s mostly because you deserve it” he explains without sparing you another glance this time. “It just so happens Karla likes you and I think you can understand each other well as women. Not to mention you have great marketing skills that Karla’s company could use” he finishes speaking and the sound of keys clacking stops as well. He gives you his undivided attention. “So” he joins his fingers in a steeple, elbows resting on the desk. “What do you think?”

You don’t even give it a second of thought. “You made a good decision Mr. Min” corners of your lips curve in a smile.

“Of course I did” he reciprocates your smile. “I never make bad decisions” his smile grows into a knowing grin.

You catch the sarcastic play on words. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that”. Your gaze lingers on his a second longer before you nod and turn away to leave.

Just as you reach for the door, he speaks.

“Do your best”

You turn around and give him a curtsey nod. “You bet I will”

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You’re back to working late nights, but this time with Yoongi in his office on actual things that matter.

You and Yoongi have been working on a pitch for Karla’s company to convince them to change their branding. You work late hours into the night as usual. You flirt here and there, but nothing major happens as you both keep it professional(ish). There are a few laughs exchanged, a couple of longing gazes, moments so thick with tension you could practically taste it on your tongue.

You lean over to look at Yoongi’s list of ideas, but unknowingly invade his personal bubble-- that intimate zone only reserved for significant others/spouses. You get caught up in the moment as you look at him, and he looks at you. For a moment you think he’ll kiss you. But instead, he clears his throat. “I’ll be back” his voice is a whisper.

He gets up hurriedly and leaves, clearing his throat all the way to the door.

You watch his figure disappear behind the opaque glass door.

“Keep it professional” you chide yourself with a shake of the head.

You focus back on your notes, flipping through the pages trying to put a concept map together.

A draft of air hits you and you look in the direction to find Yoongi opening the door. He walks in a few feet, one hand hidden behind his back.

Curiosity piqued and you offer him an inquisitive look. “What are you hiding Mr. Min?”

Wordlessly, he brings his arm forward. In his hand is a bouquet of baby’s breath flowers.

“How did you-” you start.

“I know” he erases the distance between you as he stops just shy of invading your intimate space and holds out the flowers.

You reach for them. “Thank you. But how do you know I like these?”

“You said it” he mentions.

“I did?” you look at him puzzled.

“Two nights ago. We were talking about using florals to brighten up the aesthetic for Karla’s company and you mentioned baby’s breath is your favourite flower”

“ I don’t even remember saying that” you shake your head, almost in disbelief that he remembered. “You actually remembered?”

He nods. “I remember everything you say” he replies“ no matter how sharply you put it” he adds with a chuckle.

At a loss for words, all you can do is stare at the man filled with a foreign feeling.

“Thank you” you finally manage to say.

“You’re very welcome” his lips curve into a smile.

He returns to his seat while you place the flowers on his desk as gently as you can. Once he’s seated you take the opportunity to ask. “Mr. Min” you address him.

“Yeah” he looks at you in a way that makes your heart race faster.

“Why did you give me these?” it feels like the incessant urgent know has been satisfied and you feel relieved.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I wanted to” he looks down at the papers in front of him. A few moments of silence pass as you continue studying him while he keeps his gaze downcast. “An-anyway let's get back to it” he quickly changes the subject.

You nod. Under the dim lighting of his office, for the very first time you notice how handsome he looks. His skin looks like porcelain, his eyes glimmer with a hint of golden flecks around the irises. His lips look buttery soft. You bite back on your lip as you realize how much quicker you’re breathing.

“Is something wrong?” Yoongi questions as he looks up at you.

You vigourously shake your head. “I just— I am sorry”

“I caught you staring didn’t I?” he responds but it’s not really meant to be a question. “I don’t mind. I like the attention” he winks.

Your eyes widen. “I— I wasn’t” your attempt at denying it is futile and even you know it. But you have to at least attempt to save face.

“If it helps, I actually think it’s cute” his lips upturn in a playful smile.

You keep mum, considering there is nothing to say. Even though you don’t speak, the smile on your lips says everything Yoongi needs to know.

You hear him softly laughing and you can sense him just shaking his head. Then you hear something and you aren’t sure if you hear it right but it sounds an awful lot like “you’re cute miss y/n”

You end up spending another hour brainstorming ideas. After that last exchange between you, you thought you couldn’t concentrate. But you did. And once more you flirted a little, exchanged gazes, and avoid as hard as you can to pay no mind to the vibe between you.

“I think we should call it a night” Yoongi stretches his arms over his head with a groan. “You’re tired too”

“Okay” you start gathering all the papers into a pile.

“Don’t worry about this” he waves his hand in a dismissive manner. “I’ll do it. Start getting your stuff together. I’ll drop you off”

“You don’t have to” you reply, the burdensome feeling coming on. “I can go home”

“Did I give you a choice?” he narrows his eyes at you. “Just because I got you these flowers, and that spa day and gave you Karla doesn’t mean you get to tell what I have or don’t have to do. Got it” he sounds a little stern, but in a way where he’s being thoughtful more than trying to be a jerk.

“Yes, Mr. Min” the meekness in your voice surprises you. As you stand in front of him you cannot understand what brings on this sudden submissive attitude. But you have already agreed and something tells you Mr. Min won’t take no for an answer.

“I’ll be right there” he motions to the door with his head, indicating that you should pack up.

“Okay” you pick up the bouquet and quietly walk out of his office.

The walk back to your desk is filled with mixed emotions. A fluttery feeling floats in your stomach, giving you the perception that your head is spinning. You almost stumble as you reach your desk. You realize you’re breathless as you grip onto the edges of the desk to steady yourself. “Shit. So much for keeping it professional” you mutter while you grab your bag. You sling it over your shoulder. You gather the flowers in your hand as you wait for Yoongi.

Moments later he’s coming out. “Ready?” he asks.

With a dry mouth and dizzying intoxication brought upon his presence all you do is nod.

“After you.” he says.

Maybe he isn’t an asshole after all.

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The sounds of crickets chirping in the silence of the night help shroud some of your thoughts. But not enough apparently because merely Yoongi’s presence is enough to send you in a tizzy. It’s maybe only been about five seconds since Yoongi stopped in front of your house but it sure feels like hours.

“Umm” you’re the first to break the silence. “Well, thank you for the ride an-and for these flowers”

“You’re welcome” comes his quiet voice.

You unlock the door, one foot already out of the door.

“Wait” his hand on your forearm stops you.

You turn to look at him. “Yeah?”

“I actually brought you these flowers because I was going to ask you on a date” he confesses.

“Oh” is all you can manage. You don’t know what else to say.

“So, will you…?” he sounds unsure as he says these words, almost like he himself doesn’t know.

He sounds sincere enough. But as it stands you have two choices: give in easily at which point you may as well give up any hope in future of asking him for anything. Or you could just play hard to get so he knows it won’t be easy.

“I’ll think about” confidence flows through your voice, and along with a coy smirk on your lips.

Yoongi’s previously solemn expression is replaced by a crooked smile. He studies you quietly, making you wonder what he’s thinking. “I’ll give you five minutes”

“No. If that’s how long you think it takes to figure out whether I want to give you a chance, then my answer is no”.

“Fine. How long do you want?”

“It’s not about long I want Mr. Min. It’s about how long you are willing to wait” and without hearing his response you exit the car.

All Yoongi can do is stare at you open-mouthed-- stunned and in utter disbelief.

You didn’t know Yoongi would wait for two whole months. You didn’t expect him to keep it professional between you either

You also didn’t expect Min Yoongi to come to your desk at 2 pm and ask you to look over the designs for one of your clients.

“You look lovely today y/n” he stops next to your desk, holding out a file for you.

“I always look lovely” you take the file from him, dismissing his compliment because you’re sure he’s just buttering you up into doing something for him. Not that you wouldn’t if he hadn’t said anything.

“I mean it” his voice softens as he recognizes your disbelief. “Blue looks good on you’” he motions to your blue blouse, and looks you straight in the eyes. He doesn’t even flinch-- which means he actually probably means it.

You certainly don’t regret picking it out anymore. “Thank you”

“You’re very welcome.” he adds with a smile that stretches into a grin. “Oh and can you look this over. Please and thank you”

“I will” you nod. “Question for you”

“Anything” he half sits on your desk as he awaits your ask.

“Did you come here to give me the file or to tell me I look good?”

“I came here to tell you, you look beautiful if what you’re after is my motive” the corners of his mouth turn up in a soft flirty smile.

“I am. But I’ll also look at this” you gesture to the file in your hand.

He acknowledges your response with a nod as he turns around and starts towards his office.

“Mr. Min” you call out and he turns around. “That suit looks great on you”

It takes him a second to comprehend your words, but as soon as he does, he’s back to smiling. “Thank you y/n”

Just as easily he struts away, just as easily everyone around you is stunned into silence. It looks like a comic scene as everyone looks at Yoongi’s retreating figure with mouth’s agape.

“Did he flirt with you?” one of your coworker’s peers over the divide between your cubicles.

You look up at him. “Yes he did”

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At 4 pm, you walk back to his office with your notes on the changes that should be made. You knock on the door once. He doesn’t answer so you take it as your cue to enter.

“Here are the notes” you hold out the file as you stop just in front of his desk.

“It’s already done?” Yoongi is forced to look up his work.

“Yes and yes”

“Okay. You can leave it on the desk” he goes back to his work.

You wait for him to catch on. But he doesn’t. So you start towards the door.

“Wait” he calls out. “Yes and Yes?”

You turn around, feeling giddy with anticipation.

“What’s the second yes for?” he looks at you puzzled.

“I guess you don’t want to go on that date anymore” you quirk a brow.

He closes his laptop and leans back in his chair. “Took you long enough”

“You reap what you sow Mr. Min”

“Is that right?” it’s rhetorical of course but you nod anyway.

He chuckles. “Let’s go “ he grabs his coat from the back of the chair and swings it around and on his shoulders.

You look at him puzzled. “Right now? What about work?”

“First, I am the boss so I make the rules and I say we go. Second, I made the mistake of offering you five minutes of time to make your decision. You really think I am going to give you a day or two for this date”

You can’t help but laugh. “In that case Mr. Min, let’s go”

He heads to the door first as you follow “After you” he opens it and you’re almost out of the door when he shuts the door. “Wait. I have to do something” he pulls you to himself, supporting you by the waist as he presses his lips to yours.

Maybe time stops when his lips meet yours. But the flutter in your stomach only intensifies. You feel weak in the knees. You hold onto the nape of Yoongi’s neck as your legs begin to tingle. Yoongi’s hands rest on your sides, and gently make their way up to cup your cheeks. You moan into his mouth, as his tongue dances against your lips.

Yoongi keeps his eyes slightly open as he pulls back for air. He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming so he held onto you tighter, causing you to become aware of the contour of his body flush against yours. “I am sorry if I took you by surprise” he’s slightly breathless and flushed. “I wasn’t sure how the date would go and if I would get the chance to do this. If you don’t want to go anymore” he stops to lick his lips. “I would understand” he finishes.

“So you’re not an asshole after all” you look at him through the curtain of your eyelashes.

He raises a brow at you silently telling you to consider your wording as if you're treading on thin ice. “I am still your boss”

You shrug. “You lost the upper hand when you asked me out”

“I knew I liked you for a reason” he says while he takes a tiny step back to give you space and time to collect yourself.

“I think I might fall” your breathless voice takes you by surprise.

“You already have” he curls his fingers around yours.

Hand in hand you walk out of his office, causing ruckus in your wake as your coworkers gawk in disbelief at your departing figures. Because how could Mr.Min be acting like this? More importantly, how could Mr. Min be smiling like an absolute idiot.

I hope you enjoyed it :) Don’t forget to like and reblog! Thank you for reading.

[xomarauders]

posted this on ao3 awhile back and had a hard time getting tumblr to upload it, but it finally worked so here you go

content warning for referenced child abuse

~

The warmth of summer filtered through the window, casting rays of sunshine across the floor of James Potter’s bedroom carpet where Remus was splayed out, tracing patterns into the ridiculously soft material. He was sure that James charmed it to keep it so fluffy, otherwise it would not have survived the footfalls of four, rowdy boys that found refuge here during the summer. It used to be only the three of them—James, Remus, and Peter, that is—until Sirius was able to join permanently halfway through the summer season. His parents had never allowed for him to visit the Potter’s while he was still living under their roof, but now that the raven-haired boy had run away and was officially disowned, well, Remus was sure the carpet would have wilted under Padfoot’s grubby paws by now.

Either way, Remus was sure that there was nothing better than laying on James’ charmed carpet with his three best friends, listening to music from the record player—that had also been charmed to work without electricity—and chatting about whatever came to their minds. They were all sat on the floor aside from Sirius, who was perched in the window, smoking, and watching as the birds flew around outside. Remus smirked—the boy really was such a dog.

“It’s our last years at Hogwarts, boys,” James announced as he pushed his glasses further up his nose, “what are we going to do once it’s all over?”

It was a question that held a lot of weight, depending on how you looked at it. What were they going to do as far as it came to pranks and leaving their legacy at Hogwarts or what were they going to do as soon as they graduated. Maybe get jobs, possibly go to university, more likely join the Order to fight a war they didn’t start. Remus didn’t care to think about any of these things. His future had been something he considered to be doomed since he was four years old and suddenly had to share his mind with a beast that tore apart his body every month. He had never even planned on having the life he had gotten—the chance to go to Hogwarts, to make friends…to fall in love.

He cast glance toward Sirius, whose own gray eyes were already looking to Remus, a thoughtful expression on his face. Remus grinned at him, tilting his head so that his curls fell into his eyes. Sirius smiled back, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He’d been smiling like that a lot, lately. Remus made a mental note to ask him about it later that night.

“I don’t know about you lot, but I have no idea what I’m going to do without all of you around,” Peter said.

“Don’t worry, mate,” James said, patting Peter on the shoulder, “you can’t get rid of us that easy! Marauders till the end, right?”

There was a certain admiration that Remus held for James Potter, the savior of the cursed and the damned. He had banded them all together; the timid boy, the broken werewolf, and the wayward heir to make a family. Remus would never be able to repay James for the unconditional love he’d shown him, but he was willing to try everyday for the rest of his life.

“Marauders till the end,’ Sirius repeated, extracting himself from the window as he put out his cigarette. He joined them on the floor, laying down next to Remus and pressing himself tightly against the other boy. Remus wrapped his arm around Sirius, partially out of habit and partially because it was what Sirius needed, something he was starved of. Touch had been something of a guessing game between the two of them ever since they started their relationship. Neither of them were quite used to being touched in such casual ways until they became friends with James—who was constantly giving out hugs like they were candy—and starting a relationship had made the concept even more confusing. Not only did they have to think about what sort of casual touching was okay for each of them, but now they had to factor in intimate contact. Kissing was okay, just as long as they were alone in the safety of Remus’ four poster bed or hidden in one of the various alcoves they had discovered while creating the Marauders Map. Remus thought it might even be okay here, in James’ bedroom, to sweetly kiss his boyfriend without fear of judgment or ridicule. Still, he let Sirius make those decisions, allowed him to initiate any sort of contact between them because while Remus’ aversion to touch stemmed from not being able to trust himself, Sirius’ came from not being able to trust others. He was easily spooked by any sort of sudden movement that came his way, a side effect of Walburga Black’s outstanding parenting skills, and no amount of James’ casual hugs or Remus’ gentle caresses have seemed to break him of this habit.

“What are you thinking about, Moons?” Sirius whispered. James and Peter were too busy arguing over which record to play next to notice their other two friends.

“You,” Remus said easily. Sirius blushed—an image Remus would never tire of seeing—and reached up with his slender fingers to brush away the curls that had fallen in Remus’ eyes.

“Me,” Sirius said, a hint of astonishment in his voice.

Remus wished Sirius wouldn’t sound so surprised at the idea of someone thinking of him. It hurt to know that Sirius did not quite value himself the same way Remus, James and Peter did and it was times like these where Remus wanted to meet Walburga and Orion Black in person just so he could give them a piece of his mind.

“Lads,” James said, throwing himself on top of them unceremoniously, “let’s head on downstairs. I think mum’s made dinner.”

The four of them trailed down the stairs, Sirius holding Remus’ hand while James raced ahead to slide down the railing. Fleamont was in the parlor, reading the newspaper and looking up as the boys made their presence known. He greeted them all, and asked James in a calm tone to perhaps not ride the staircase like a broomstick. James at least had the decency to turn red before assuring his dad it would never happen again (everyone knew it would). Euphemia was in the kitchen, apron tied around her waist and her gray hair up in a knot on her head. Sirius leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, and she gently reached out to him, not quite taking his face in her hands until she saw the smallest nod of permission.

“My darling,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears, “you look well.”

Remus knew what Euphemia was thinking about as she took in Sirius’ appearance. It was the same thing he had thought of over and over again as he laid in bed at night, his arms wrapped tightly around his boyfriend in attempt to keep him safe from the nightmares that occupied his mind. The frail and beaten Sirius that had collapsed on the Potter’s doorstep those few weeks ago had been nursed back to health by the healing powers and carefulness of Euphemia Potter. Still, it was hard to get that image of Sirius lying half dead out of Remus’ mind. He could hardly imagine what it was like for Euphemia who had seen the worst of his injuries after shoving everyone else out of the room in order to heal him. James, Remus, and Peter had stayed up all night, waiting outside the spare bedroom door where they could hear Euphemia sobbing over Sirius’ sleeping form. Remus would rather have faced the full moon a hundred times instead of waiting those long three days for Sirius to wake up.

“Thanks, mum,” Sirius said. The four boys crowded around the kitchen table, eagerly reaching toward the various dishes Euphemia had spread about. Fleamont had joined them, sitting between his wife and Sirius. James immediately went for his mother’s main dish, filling his plate full before passing it to Peter, who was already nibbling on some naan. Remus loved Euphemia’s cooking. It was different than that of his mother’s—not that he would ever pass up his mam’s wonderful Sunday dinners—and he was happy to able to enjoy the different flavors offered whenever he visited. Euphemia always made far too much, making sure that everyone got their fill as well as some leftovers. She was an angel, truly.

Sirius did not fill his plate as full as the others. He was still very thin, with his jaw looking more pronounced and Remus knew his hipbones were a bit more jutted out. Punishments at Grimmauld Place were harsh and Sirius had been starved well into the first few months of summer. It was still a process, trying to get him to eat without getting sick, but they were managing best they could. Remus watched as Sirius poked at his food, looking a bit scared of it before setting his fork down and letting out a frustrated sigh. James looked up from his own plate, regarding Sirius with a look of concern from across the table.

“You okay there, Padfoot?” He asked, keeping his tone light but Remus could see the worry in his dark eyes. Sirius nodded, picking up his utensils once more.

“Yeah. I’m fine, just…” He trailed off, looking down at the table and not daring to meet anyone’s eye. Remus felt a sudden need to shield Sirius away from everyone else’s intense gaze, the wolf within him becoming quite territorial. He pushed those feeling away, not permitting the wolf access to its most basic instincts in the fear that the wolf might be visible on the surface. Still, even his human mind seemed to want to take Sirius away from the scrutiny.

“Darling,” Euphemia said, “you don’t have to eat it all. Just a few bites of naan if you can bear it. Just to keep up your strength.”

Sirius smiled tightly at her but did not move to eat. The rest of them reluctantly picked at their own food, trying to keep things as normal as possible. Fleamont engaged his son in conversation about Quidditch, asking after the Gryffindor team and what he thought their chances were this upcoming school year. Peter politely asked after the herbs Euphemia was growing in her kitchen—he had a thing for herbology—and she answered each question with detail. Remus turned his attention to Sirius, his hand coming to rest on the older boy’s knee. Sirius flinched slightly and then blinked as he realized it was only Remus.

“Do you want to go on a walk?” Remus asked quietly, rubbing circles with his thumb into Sirius’ thigh. The other boy nodded, standing quickly, and exiting the kitchen. The conversations happening came to an abrupt halt and Remus could feel James’ gaze turn towards him. He looked to his friend, a silent conversation passing between them.

Is he okay?

No, but he will be.

Remus walked out, trailing through the living room and out the back door which lead to the Potter’s spacious garden. When Remus had first visited the Potter’s home when he was thirteen, he had the startling realization that James Potter was very well off. It was a bit daunting, especially since Remus’ whole house could probably fit within one room of the mansion and he had been a bit nervous to even touch anything in fear of breaking it. Of course, Fleamont and Euphemia were no stranger to rough-housing, having known exactly what they were getting into with their own son, and Remus’ worries were quickly put to ease when Euphemia simply waved her wand at a vase that had tragically fallen to the floor amidst their game of dog-pile on Peter. Young Remus had almost forgotten that magic existed outside of Hogwarts, and he was in awe at seeing performed in such a domestic setting.

His favorite part of James’ home though was the garden. It was so big! There were wonderful trees that provided much needed shade on hot summer days, and pools of water run by magic to keep the vegetation alive. There were many times the boys pretended to be magizoologists searching for creatures in a jungle, or highly trained aurors on the hunt for evil wizards and—Remus’ personal favorite—pirates looking for treasure. It was a place filled with joy and adventure and even as the boys got older, it remained their sanctuary. Sirius had spent a lot of time in the garden since he arrived, sitting by himself beneath the starlit sky, crying out for his brother and the family that had hurt him. Remus had watched in privately, not daring to intrude on such moments, but wanting to be within reach just in case.

Sirius sat there now, next to a bed of deep red roses, softly running his fingers across the petals. Remus walked up, careful not spook him, and sat down beside him. He flickered his eyes in Sirius’ direction and noticed the other boy had started crying, but he did not pry. Now was not the time for that. Instead, he let his fingers trail through the grass beneath him and let his words fall lazily off his tongue.

“I read a new book at the beginning of summer,” Remus began, his tone light. “Mrs. Dalloway. It was a quick read. The entire novel takes place over the course of one day, how interesting is that? It’s become one of my favorites I think. Woolf is a great author—Virginia Woolf, she’s the one who wrote it.”

Sirius seemed to perk up at this. “Woolf? Could you be anymore ironic, Moony?”

A light laugh escaped Remus. “Believe me, I know. Mum was worried about that when she got it for me.”

The tension snapped back into Sirius as quickly as Remus realized his mistake. Hope Lupin was a generous woman, young and vibrant with a taste for progressive ideologies and love for everyone she met. She adored her son and kept him safe, never shying away from him despite his affliction with lycanthropy and Remus sometimes forgot how lucky he was to have her in his life until he was sat next to Sirius and realized that the Hope Lupin’s and Euphemia Potter’s of the world were unfortunately not the norm for everyone.

“They hate me,” Sirius says abruptly. “They hate that I don’t agree with them. That I don’t want to fucking pledge my allegiance to some dark lord who wants to kill all my friends and I—” he chokes off, a sob escaping him, “I don’t want to care, Remus. I don’t want to be bothered by the fact that my mother would rather curse me instead of hug me and that my father would rather have me dead instead of tarnishing his precious family name. But I do. I do care because they should care. I’m their son, I am their fucking flesh and blood and if blood is all that matters to them then why don’t they care about me?”

There were tears in his eyes as he looked at Remus, tears that Sirius had been holding back ever since he was eleven years old and discovered that parents were not supposed to punish their children for wanting to be loved, the pain and anguish of that realization that had built up over time finally reaching a breaking point. Remus’ own heart was breaking as he stared helplessly, not knowing what to do. These were not problems children were supposed to have. They were supposed to be young, careless, and dreaming up pranks to pull once they got back to school. Instead, they had to contend with a looming war and parents who were cruel and a curse that transformed you into a monster. This was their life, and it would never be easy, Remus thought, not for them.

“Sirius,” Remus whispered, “there are no words I can say to express to you how sorry I am that you’ve had to deal with any of this. Your parents…they’re wrong. They are so fucking wrong and they are so fucking blind for not being able to love you. You are the most loveable human being. You’re generous and caring and you…you take notes for me. When I miss class. And you always make sure my pillows are nice and fluffy after the moon and you rub those soothing salves on my skin at night. And you make me that special tea whenever I’m sick and you read to me when I can’t sleep. You kiss me like it’s the first time every time and you love me like it’s the only thing you’re meant to do. You clean James’ glasses for him and you make sure his Quidditch gear is ready to go on game day. You help Peter study and you let him go on and on about divination with you despite it being your least favorite subject. You’re the first one up to dance with Marlene at the parties and you braid Lily’s hair whenever she’s feeling upset over her sister. You are one of a kind, Sirius Black. You are a good friend and a good brother and you are the love of my life. Believe me when I tell you that you are loved.”

Sirius stared at him, the tears falling from his eyes leaving trails across his cheeks. He reached out for Remus, pulling the taller boy closer to close the distance between them. Sirius’ lips met Remus’, a tender kiss filled with gratitude and love and the promise of forever. When Sirius pulled away, his eyes were still shining, but there was new fervor there, a look of life that Remus had not seen reflected in those silver orbs for a long time.

“I love you so much,” Sirius said. And he smiled genuinely for the first time in months.

Remus smiled back. “I love you, too.”

“Come on,” Sirius said, standing up and offering his hand. “Let’s head back in.”

[moonlit-han]

part v: true north

genre: college au, neighbor au; fluff, humor, slow burn pairing: 3racha x femme reader in poly relationship part word count: 9.2k part warnings: 18+ content, suggestive, explicit language, mild angst, alcohol consumption request: no a/n: this in no way reflects the actions of stray kids’ bang chan, seo changbin, or han jisung. it is a work of fiction.  !! important !!: if you are under 18 years of age, you may not read this series. the author requests that readers be mindful that there is 18+ content in this piece and read only if age appropriate. thank you. and, remember to always get continued and enthusiastic consent as you practice safe sexual habits.

~ read other parts first! ~

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

“So,” Jisung said evenly, “when exactly were you going to tell me that you’re seeing Y/N?”

Facing him on the sofa, one leg tucked under the other, Chan let out a surprised huff of air. “I- Why do you care? I thought you were in an open relationship?”

“But that doesn’t mean we don’t tell each other when we’re dating someone new!” Jisung retorted, trying to keep his voice even.

Chan’s eyes widened. “I just assumed she would’ve told you…”

“She didn’t,” Jisung said flatly.

Silence descended for a full three minutes, the tension growing by the second, as both young men refused to speak. Jisung struggled to keep his features fairly neutral, even as he seethed, because, as much as he admired Chan and loved their friendship, his friend was a real bastard when he wanted to be.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, Jisung.” Chan’s tone was flippant as he continued to stare at the ceiling. “Take it up with Y/N.”

“What?” Jisung demanded incredulously. He couldn’t believe Chan could be so… So cold.

“I said—“

“I know what you said,” Jisung interrupted, “but I can’t believe you’d betray our friendship like this!”

“Betray our friendship?” Chan ran a hand through his hair. “What the hell, Jisung? It’s not like we’ve told each other about relationships in the past?”

Jisung scoffed. “What relationships, Chan? You haven’t had time to so much as have a quick fuck, let alone an actual relationship.”

“Thanks, Jisung. That’s real nice.”

“It’s not like I’m wrong!” Jisung shot to his feet and pushed the coffee table further into the room with his boot, unable to sit still anymore.

“That doesn’t mean you can insult me.” Chan countered, also rising, arms crossed.

“Likewise, Chan,” Jisung spat, gesticulating wildly. “And just by not telling me, you’ve insulted our friendship.”

“Great!” Chan exclaimed, keeping his distance at the other end of the couch. “I’ve gone and insulted our friendship. Why is this my fault all of a sudden? What about Y/N? Aren’t you going to acknowledge that some of this is on her?”

Jisung spluttered. “Yeah, fine. It is. But you’re my best friend and you should’ve told me, especially since you seem to think you and she are this great power couple or something!”

“I do not!”

“Then why’d you give her that necklace, huh?”

“Jisung,” Chan said placatingly, holding his hands out like he’d calm a wild animal, “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but I do care about Y/N.”

Jisung fought not to roll his eyes.

“I really like her,” Chan continued. “She’s just— I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like I’ve been spinning out of focus, away from my center. And then she just appears in my life one day, and suddenly I know where I am again.” He paused to take a breath, as if steeling himself. “Being with her feels amazing.”

Jisung finally did lose control of his expression, sneering as he rolled his eyes.

“Come on, that’s not what I meant,” Chan said flatly. “I’m talking about her personality, her laugh, her mind, everything, Jisung. You know what it’s like, I know you do.” Jisung’s lips pressed together in a tight line, but he remained silent as Chan sat down on the sofa again. “She’s so easy to be around, to spend time with. I honestly feel I’ve been waiting for something all my life and now I’ve found it—I’ve found her.”

Jisung sighed and acquiesced to perching on the arm of his sofa, if not fully sitting again. “Fine. I know what you mean about being drawn to her.” Chan looked like he was about to crow. “But still, you could’ve said something, man.”

“I wanted to, but didn’t know how!” Chan blurted. “And I thought… Since I gave her the necklace and she wore it… But she didn’t tell you?”

“Nope, she hasn’t said a thing, besides saying that she was going on dates. Which were casual. So she didn’t need to tell me anything else.” Jisung tried not to smirk. “You might want to check how serious she thinks it is with you,” he said in mock warning.

Chan seemed to deflate like a balloon losing air, but rose to his feet again nevertheless. Jisung just watched, his heart pounding. “Whatever, Jisung,” Chan mumbled as he stopped halfway across the room, then let himself out. “Bye.”

Jisung didn’t move from where he’d collapsed on the couch for a long time, thinking about everything that had just happened. Sure, he probably shouldn’t have said something so inflammatory to Chan, but that didn’t excuse the facts of the situation. But then again…

Over the past hour, it was as if every feeling of inadequacy, every insecurity had clawed their way out of the deep, mental grave Jisung had worked so hard to dig for them. Knowing that Chan—his best friend, the man he looked up to as a musician and as a person—was seeing you in some capacity made him doubt his own worth. How could he compare to the paradigm that was Bang Chan? Well, maybe not a paradigm, but he was certainly admirable. Jisung still couldn't believe he was dating someone so wonderful as you, so Chan dating you felt too much like him winning some competition of which Jisung hadn’t even known he was a part. Just the thought made him feel like vines were slithering under his skin, constricting him from within. He wondered if Changbin knew, since he lived with Chan, and what he thought if he did.

Jisung couldn’t help thinking that you wearing Chan’s necklace when neither he nor Changbin had given you anything like that felt like Chan was staking his claim. He knew it sounded ridiculous, like Chan was some wolf unable to control his instincts, but you were wearing jewelry that Jisung had seen around his friend’s neck for the past three years, without fail, which he knew meant the world to Chan. So, did that mean that you meant the world to Chan? That you were Chan’s more than his and Changbin’s, even though they were both actually dating you and Chan was, as far as he knew, simply seeing you casually? You hadn’t told him about seeing Chan, so it couldn’t be that serious, right? But that necklace… Seeing it on your neck made your tie with Chan seem more, well, real than his own.

Chan’s insistence that you were the one for him didn’t soothe Jisung’s anxiety, either. And, the fact that Jisung suspected he felt something similar made it all more complicated. He sighed and held his head in his hands, rubbing his temples as his elbows dug into his knees slightly more painfully than he would have liked, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to sleep or do something mindless, to not worry about his relationships or anything else. With a whining groan, Jisung stood and made his way to his bedroom. Maybe some alone time and a nap would help.

↠↞

You kissed Jisung goodbye as he and Chan headed next door, and Changbin tried not to look too forlorn at not being able to kiss Jisung, too. He didn’t much like how there were starting to be more and more secrets between the four of you. When you came back into the kitchen from retrieving your cardigan from exactly where you thought it was—not in the laundry as Chan had assumed—Changbin was washing the mixing bowls you’d used, trying not to splash water all over your kitchen and himself (again). You joined him next to the sink, drying whatever he handed you and putting it away.

Once the last fork had been washed and returned to live among its pointy brethren, the two of you made your way into through the living room where the tins of cookies still sat on the coffee table.

“How mad do you think Jisung would be if I ate all the chocolate chip cookies?” Changbin asked, grinning as he reached for a tin.

“Very,” you replied, knowing your boyfriend wouldn’t really eat the cookies Jisung had already claimed for himself. “But you should still give me one of those.”

Changbin opened the tin and gave you two before heading toward the bedroom.

Kicking off your shoes, you flopped onto the bed next to Changbin, slinging an arm around his shoulders to run your fingers through his hair. He rested his hand on your thigh, gently massaging your muscles—it was nothing erotic, just comforting. The dull light of the winter afternoon filtered through your curtains, catching the two silver rings Changbin had started wearing.

“So,” Changbin began, “how was your week? I’m sorry I’ve been so busy and haven’t been able to talk to you as much.” He leaned over and kissed your cheek, making you smile softly.

“No, no, no! Babe, don’t worry about it! Eh, my week was okay,” you shrugged, now twisting a lock of hair at the base of Changbin’s neck between two fingers. “I got cleared for graduation, so that’s something. But I still have way too much to do before spring break.” You sighed, letting your head sink further into your nest of pillows as you turned to Changbin. “Weren’t you in the studio a bunch this week?”

A sly look crept over Changbin’s countenance as he said, “As a matter of fact…”

You waited a beat for him to continue and when he didn’t you prompted: “Yes?”

“I was in the studio this week—most nights, actually.” Changbin made to rise. “Here, I’ll be right back.”

Before Changbin could return to the bedroom, you snatched one of the cookies he’d left on the bedside table; after all, why should you eat one of your own and have one cookie fewer for later when you could just steal one of your boyfriend’s? It was so delicious that you thought that whoever had written the recipe for these cookies was a genius and deserved a medal. As Changbin walked back into the room, you tried not to look too guilty as you licked the crumbs from your lips. He looked from you to the bedside table and back again.

“Y/N, I— Are you eating one of my cookies?” Changbin said in mock outrage, coming over to your side of the bed and standing over you.

You just stared up at the ceiling, feigning innocence. Changbin leaned down and caught your lips with his, kissing you so thoroughly that you were left breathless. When he straightened, you noticed that your pocket felt one cookie lighter. Sure enough, he’d stolen one of your cookies while he’d been kissing you.

“You little shit!” you cried, quickly sitting up and playfully jabbing Changbin in the stomach, causing him to let out a huff of air.

“Well, you stole one of mine, so it’s only fair,” he said loftily, popping the cookie into his mouth. All you could do was shake your head.

“Close your eyes, love,” Changbin said, and you made a noise of confusion. “Just wait a minute and you’ll know.”

You heard some strangely slithery noises, then felt something come to rest on your bed that was not your boyfriend. Once he’d climbed back up onto the bed and laid down beside you, he gently pulled your hands down from your eyes. “It’s a gift, love.”

The first thing you saw was your old boombox at the end of your bed, an extension chord trailing from it and across the room. In front of you on the bed was a small, rectangular package that looked very familiar….

“Did you…? Is that what I think it is?” you asked, hoping your guess was correct.

“How about you open it, love,” Changbin said, smiling.

You held the gift in your hand, then tore the brown paper from it to reveal a cassette tape.

For Y/N, the most beautiful and wonderful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. Enjoy, love ♡

“A mixtape,” you breathed, turning it over in your hands. “So this is what you were working on this week, babe?”

“Mhmmm,” Changbin hummed, nuzzling your neck. “I hope you love it.”

“I know I will, babe. Let’s listen to it now!” you said excitedly, and leaned forward to slip the cassette into the slot on the boombox, then pressed Play. Changbin held out his arms and you leaned against him, sinking into his chest. As always, Changbin arms were strong and warm around you as the mixtape began to play.

The first song was slow and mellow, setting the mood for the rest of the mixtape and how Changbin felt about you. You’d always known that he had a romantic nature and he’d demonstrated that many times, but the way he described his feelings for you in the lyrics he’d written… You couldn’t help the tears that began to tumble down your cheeks. As you listened to the mixtape in silence, breaking it only with laughs or sighs of deep emotion, you were stunned by the depth of emotion.

“Oh Changbin,” you murmured, turning in his arms to caress his cheek, “you have no idea how much this means to me.” Your hands twined behind Changbin’s neck as you brought your lips to his, lingering at the corner of his mouth before you kissed along his jaw up to his ear. “I feel just the same,” you whispered, and Changbin’s quick intake of breath felt like the fluttering of a bird’s wings against your chest.

“Love, oh love,” Changbin breathed as he drew you down onto the pillows, his body covering yours like a shield. “I’d hoped you did.”

Just then, raised voices came from Jisung’s apartment. You and Changbin looked at each other, wide-eyed. It was unusual for both Jisung and Chan to argue, let alone yell, so something must truly be wrong.

“Should we check on them?” you asked, coming out of your music-induced haze. “That doesn’t sound good…”

“I think they’ll be okay,” Changbin replied, sighing and staring up at the ceiling. He had a feeling he knew what the argument was about, but he wasn’t going to say anything. Not yet, at least. He hoped nothing would happen to 3racha because of the conflict, but he didn’t recall Jisung mentioning anything to him.

“Are you sure?” you prodded, hoping it had nothing to do with you.

“Yeah, I’m sure we’ll hear about it at some point.” Changbin tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Shall we get back to kissing, then?”

You laughed and nodded, craning your neck to catch Changbin’s lips with yours.

The next morning—Sunday morning—Changbin awoke slowly and simply laid there, admiring you the way the sunlight seemed to shimmer over your hair like quicksilver. He was struck by how lucky he was to be with you, to know you, to-

“Mmmmm, ‘morning, baby,” you mumbled, rolling over to snuggle into Changbin’s chest—his bare skin was warm and soft, the perfect counterpoint to the cool air of the room. He kissed your hair, wrapping an arm around and shifting so you could fit yourself against the curve of his body.

After a few minutes of gently stroking your back, following the same lines he’d frantically raked nails down the night before, Changbin murmured, “Y/N, love . . . pancakes.” You giggled softly at your boyfriend’s seemingly one-track mind—he’d been exclaiming his joy of making pancakes even before you’d gone to bed.

“Y/N….” Changbin repeated, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck and sending little shivers down your spine. You threw a leg over his, bringing your bodies even closer and noting that pancakes were not the only things Changbin desired. Still not answering, you scrunched your nose against his chest and began to leave little kisses along the lines of his muscles.

“Mmmm?”

“Love, Jisung’s going to be here soon and we should make pancakes so we can all have breakfast.”

You moved your hand from just under your breastbone to between you and Changbin. He moaned as your fingers slid over him, and, suddenly, pancakes were all but forgotten. Changbin pressed himself into your hand as he hardened under your touch, and he began to kiss along your neck, nipping at the skin. You traced the very tip of him with a finger, then ran your hand up and down, still with the same lazy slowness. Changbin’s hands moved to grip your ass, squeezing and placing you on top of him as he rolled onto his back.

Now that you were pressed firmly to Changbin, the obvious hardness of him teased you to no end. His hands still on your ass, gently massaging, your boyfriend pulled you further up his body so that you were chest-to-chest and nearly nose-to-nose. Your lips met, soft and gentle, and you kissed languidly; Changbin swiped his tongue along the seam of your mouth, slipping inside to explore each and every hollow, plane, and crevice of your teeth, your tongue, your lips.

Propping yourself up a little, you sighed as the brush of your skin against his sent pleasurable shivers down your spine. “Baby, please,” you breathed against Changbin’s lips as you slid your body up and down over his, imitating the motion you craved, hungrily kissing him.

“I don’t have a condom on, love,” Changbin said, a laugh coloring his voice. “I—“

“I’m on the pill, Changbin, you know that. And I know that you’re incredibly healthy.” You nipped at his jaw, then begged again. “Please.”

“Y/N, love,” Changbin said not unkindly, “I’m not taking any risks, okay?” He reached out to your bedside table, hand scrabbling a little, then came up with the little foil square.

“You’re right—I just got carried away,” you said, conceding.

“It’s okay, love, really.”

Sighing, you sat back on Changbin’s thighs as he slid the condom on, then stroked him so sweetly and lovingly that he rose and swelled immediately—you may have licked your lips a little. Changbin’s moans at your ministrations were soft, like the sigh of the wind through a field of wheat.

You leaned forward to kiss Changbin and you groaned with pleasure as you joined together, your boyfriend letting you slowly adjust. Changbin’s hands came up to hold your breasts, thumbs flicking over them as you continued to kiss, and you rolled your hips, luxuriating in the sensation of him inside you.

It was utterly exquisite.

As you kissed and kissed, sharing breaths and moans of pleasure, you moved together like the ebb and flow of the sea. The little words of encouragement and affection you shared seemed to bare your innermost feelings through their simplicity. Everything was slow and easy, just enjoying the feel of each other—your body felt tight and utterly molten at the same time, your core turned white-hot with desire.

Shifting so Changbin could find that perfect spot, you kissed along his neck, tasting the fine sheen of sweat that had begun to form on his skin. The new angle drove, even pulled, Changbin into you, and his brows knit as little groans low in his throat escaped his lips. Your pleasure began to slide down your spine like the inexorable glide of a glacier, gathering more and more power with every inch.

And finally, the pulsing deep inside seeming to reverberate through your bones, and all you could do was cling to Changbin as you gasped and cried out. The sense of overwhelming bliss was so intense that you thought you would surely cry. Changbin did not slow in his pace, even as you came down from that wondrous high, until his hips stuttered and with a few quick thrusts that forced moaning whines from you, he, too, found his release.

He held you to him, the warmth of your bodies nearly melding you together as your body seemed to refuse to relinquish its hold around him. Once both of you had regained your breath, you once again became two separate people and helped clean each other off.

Cuddling among your nest of pillows, you contented yourself with tracing the planes of Changbin’s stomach as he lazily ran a finger up and down your bicep. Your foreheads nearly touched on the pillow, and when your eyes met from time to time, your smiles were luminous. As always, with Changbin, you felt absolutely serene.

With a jolt, you woke from a light doze next to Changbin and realized that if you didn’t get out of bed right at that moment, there was no way you’d ever get up. Maybe you’d tell Jisung to join the two of you in bed and make a lazy day of it… Just as you were reaching for your phone, though, Changbin slid out of bed and stood with his hands on his hips; you looked up guiltily at him.

“Pancakes,” was all Changbin said.

It was now a tradition for Jisung and Changbin to come over to your apartment on Sunday mornings for pancakes, tea, and more cuddling and soft kisses than you knew what to do with. As Changbin helped watch the pancakes, you could tell something was on his mind, but knew that he’d say something if it was that important. You pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder before finding a spoon with which to scrape the pancake batter down the sides of the bowl.

A moment later, Jisung ambled into the kitchen, hair still slightly disheveled from sleep, his arms entirely swallowed by the hoodie he was wearing. “Hey, babe,” he said, coming over to you and wrapping his arms around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder. “These smell delicious!” He kissed your cheek, and you hummed in reply, not needing words to express your happiness in seeing him or having his arms around you.

You took the spatula from Changbin and began turning the pancakes, trying your best not to fling them off the griddle. Jisung gave you a tight squeeze, let go of you, and moved two steps to the right to throw his arms around Changbin. “Hey, babe,” he said to him, too. Changbin turned in Jisung’s arms and smoothed his boyfriend’s hair before lightly kissing him.

He leaned against the counter, hands clasped together at the small of Jisung’s back so that Jisung could simply lean into him. You turned your head to see Jisung draped against Changbin’s bare chest so he could look up at the other young man, a syrupy grin on his face.

Your heart swelled with affection for both of them, and you had to brace yourself against the counter for a moment. It was genuinely easy to be with both of them in this new, wonderful relationship. There was so much trust built between you already—Jisung and Changbin’s three years of friendship lending an even firmer foundation to it all—and you knew, with as much certainty as you’d ever felt before, that the three of you were meant to be together.

Soon, the pancakes were done, the tea had brewed, and Changbin and Jisung were still kissing—although, they did pause for a moment to allow you to kiss both of their noses and say, “Time for breakfast, hot stuff.” You lead the way into the living room where you usually ate together, as Changbin went to finally put on a shirt.

↠↞

Changbin leaned back on the couch, his knees pulled up to his chest, while Jisung leaned against his shoulder, lightly rubbing his pleasantly full stomach. On Changbin’s other side, your mug of tea was warmth enough for you at the moment.

“Um, I think we need to have a talk,” Changbin said quietly after awhile.

“Is everything- What am I saying, of course something’s up,” Jisung said, concerned—your brows furrowed.

Changbin ran a hand through his hair, then spoke. “First, I want to say that I’m in no way blaming anyone or making them bad or wrong. I just kind of want to know what’s going on.” He took a deep breath. “So, last weekend when I woke up, I ran into Chan in the hallway outside our rooms with a tray of breakfast. I knew he had to have somebody over, since he’d asked me to be somewhere else.” He looked at Jisung, who gave him a wink. “But of course I wasn’t going to ask who, right? But um, Y/N? I think I heard your voice coming out of Chan’s room, and then a lot of giggling. And, well, a really loud moan and Chan saying to be quiet because I was home.” Changbin’s gaze was so earnest and open, while Jisung’s was a bit… pained, perhaps.

You let out a sigh, having known this day would come at some point. “Shit, yeah… that was me,” you admitted, embarrassed despite the fact that both Changbin and Jisung had made you moan and beg and scream far louder than you’d done that morning. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that, Changbin. I had no idea you were home or anything.”

“It’s okay,” he said, resting a hand on your knee in reassurance.

Jisung made to speak, but you held up a hand. “Could I explain first? Yes, I’ve gone on a few dates with Chan. Yes, we’ve had sex. Once. I hadn’t told you yet because it wasn’t serious and we agreed—“

“But it’s Chan! He’s our best friend, babe,” Jisung blurted.

“And I just met him a couple months ago,” you replied evenly. “Just because he’s your friend doesn’t mean I was going to treat him any differently from any of the other people I’ve seen.”

“So, you’ve been seeing other people even besides Chan?” Changbin wanted to know.

“Not since the middle of December—I’ve got both hands full with you two,” you said, smiling and winking. “Things with Chan kind of snowballed, if that makes sense? After winter break, we came back and he wasn’t so weirdly flirty anymore. And you’ve got to admit, he’s attractive!”

“Y/N, just because someone’s attractive, doesn’t mea—“

“That’s not what I meant, Jisung. Not being flirted at every other day over break allowed me to see that he’s a perfectly lovely guy. It’s been fun.” You shrugged. It wasn’t as if you felt at all toward Chan like you did toward Jisung and Changbin. They were… The bond between all three of you was iron-clad and effervescent, the threads between you weaving together to form a rich tapestry of feelings, responsibilities, and priorities. “I didn’t start going on dates with him with the idea ‘Let me see how fast I can fall in love with this person’ running through my head. I- I thought I made it clear to him that things were just casual. I never promised anything, and he knew we were taking things really slow. I guess something slipped through the cracks.”

There was a beat of silence, then Jisung coughed nervously, looking down at his hands twisting in his lap. “So, you know how I talked with Chan yesterday?” he began, and you and Changbin nodded. “I asked—okay, fine, confronted—Chan about you two.”

“Oh, so that’s what the arguing was about!” Changbin said with exaggerated, only partially feigned surprise.

Jisung blanched. “Um, yeah, sorry. I saw you,” he turned to Y/N, “wearing his compass necklace and kind of lost my head.”

“Oh my god,” you moaned, grimacing. “Are you serious?”

Jisung cackled. “Yeah, sorry. You know how he— Well, I guess you don’t necessarily know, but sometimes he gets really solemn and serious, to the point that it’s almost funny. That’s how it was… Once I finally got it out of him.” Changbin put his head in his hands, knowing just what Jisung meant. “He’s head-over-heels for you, Y/N.”

“Well, shit," you grumbled, not having expected this. "And yet again, Bang Chan is cheesy as hell."

“Yeah… kind of,” Jisung sighed. “But this is different. I don’t think he knows the significance of what he did. I mean, do you even know the significance of what he did?”

“Jisung,” Changbin warned.

“No, you don’t understand. In the three years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen Chan take that necklace off. Not even to go swimming. And now he’s given the thing to you!” Jisung threw up his hands, knowing that he probably shouldn’t be telling you any of this; but, he didn’t exactly care right now. “He thinks you’re the one for him, his compass. He was going on and on about how he’d felt like something was missing but now it’s like everything’s fallen into place because of you.”

“I don’t even have the thing anymore,” you felt the need to add quickly. “I slipped it back into his jacket before he left! Wearing it for a week was more than enough. I don’t like to wear chokers much, anyway.”

Jisung raised his eyebrows, not expecting you to have done that. “Really?”

“I mean, it was pretty and I thought it would be rude not to wear it.” Your statement curled up at the end like a question. “It’s not like it’s a binding promise or anything.”

“Oh, okay!” Jisung said with more excitement than was wholly appropriate. “But you might want to tell him that you’re not into him as much as he’s clearly into you.”

“I know, I know, Ji,” you said with a sigh. “I will.”

“Good. I’m glad we got that cleared up,” he said, nodding proudly. “I was worried that you’d somehow decided to break our trust by not telling us you were actually dating him.”

“What?” The word sounded like it had been punched from your gut. “I would never— I- Why would you think that?”

“I didn’t want to think that, but he made it seem like things were more serious than you say they are. I know he falls hard for people, and I trust you, Y/N—I didn’t want to think the worst.” Jisung curled his legs under himself as he settled back into the sofa.

“And what about you?” you demanded of Changbin.

“Me?” Changbin asked, his eyes wide. “I didn’t let myself make assumptions until I’d talked to you.”

Your heart hurt a little at their faith in you, that they didn’t want to believe that you’d go against your agreement, especially with their best friend. “You- You really believed me more than Chan?”

“Eh, it wasn’t between the two of you—not exactly,” Changbin responded. “Since he does fall in love or whatever with surprising depth and speed, and you're definitely sensible and cautious, it was more likely that he was the one misinterpreting things.”

You didn’t know what to say, and so simply leaned forward to gently kiss your boyfriends each in turn, leaving them smiling.

“You know, Jisung,” you said after a minute, “you and Changbin still need to tell Chan that you’re also dating.”

The two young men looked at each other, and you could almost see the words passing between them:

Shit, I didn’t tell him. Did you?

No, I thought you did. Shit.

You giggled.

“Um, yeah you’re probably right.” Jisung tried his best not to look too guilty as he looked away from Changbin. “That’s going to be such a fun conversation.”

“Hey, it’ll be okay, babe,” Changbin reassured Jisung, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer.

“Yeah, I guess.” Jisung leaned his head against Changbin’s shoulder, and a quiet moment stretched between you.

“So, we’ll tell him we’re dating if you tell him that you’re dating both of us. Deal?” Changbin said more understandingly than you thought you deserved.

“Deal,” you said, smiling a sideways grin.

“Deal,” Jisung agreed.

“Okay, not to totally break the mood or anything, but I have to pee,” you stated, standing up. “I’ll be right back, babies.”

A moment after you left the room, Jisung curled closer to Changbin. He absolutely did not want things to change between the three of you. Of that much he was certain, especially not when you’d just affirmed an even closer relationship than before. He didn’t want Chan’s relationship or whatever it was with you coming between what you already had with himself and Changbin. Jisung whispered, “I just didn’t want him to take her from us. Am I a bad person for wanting that?”

Changbin took a deep breath. “No,” he replied, “I don’t think so. I was thinking the same thing.”

“What should we do, then?”

“I don’t think we should do anything, Ji,” Changbin said simply. “It’s their relationship.”

“Yeah, but—“

“Love, it’s their relationship and they should figure it out. In terms of us, it’s clear she’s not going anywhere.” His tone was firm, as if Changbin couldn’t—wouldn’t—consider an alternative.

Jisung nodded and turned his face into Changbin’s shoulder to plant a kiss there, holding his lips against his friend and lover’s body. Just then, you came back into the room and sat squarely in Changbin’s lap with your legs over Jisung.

The two young men adjusted their positions slightly to accommodate you, the three of you falling into each other with such ease that one would have thought you’d been dating for years. You sighed and relaxed into Changbin’s chest, Jisung pulling you closer across Changbin’s lap as the two of you now nuzzled your boyfriend. The smell of your soap still clung to Changbin’s skin, and, despite having only been awake for three hours, you felt yourself drifting towards sleep in the comfortable embrace of your boyfriends. Jisung’s hand gently rubbed circles into your hip.

“You know,” Jisung said after a while, “I stopped seeing other people back in December when you said were jealous and had deeper feelings than you’d previously thought.”

“Where’s this coming from, Ji?” you mumbled, shifting a bit so that you sat nearly between him and Changbin. “You don’t have to reassure me or defend yourself or something.”

“It’s not that—I just wanted to tell you that because once we got together, I was so comfortable and into you that I didn’t feel like I wanted or needed to see anybody else.” Jisung leaned forward and somehow managed to wedge himself between you and Changbin, successfully resting his face against your breasts—this was not uncommon.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmmmm” was his only answer as he closed his eyes.

“Not that I’d been dating other people at the same time as you,” Changbin added, kissing your hair, “but I care about you just as much as I know Jisung does. And that’s a considerable amount, love.”

You smiled softly, hardly daring to believe that you had two such caring and devoted, not to mention sexy, boyfriends who also cared just as much about each other. It was more than you’d ever expected or dreamed. As you sat there in the blissful place between sleep and wakefulness, you were overcome with the depth of your feelings for Jisung and Changbin. It didn’t scare you, no. And for that, you were glad.

A twinge of remorse flitted through you at the knowledge that your feelings were not nearly as strong for Chan, but you didn’t know him as well. Even when you’d known and been seeing Jisung and Changbin for the same amount of time, your feelings had still been stronger than what you felt for Chan. Plus, there wasn’t the same sense of being pulled inexorably toward both Jisung and Changbin like you were magnets. You couldn’t escape it even if you’d wanted to—and you most certainly didn’t.

All you could do was bring your lips to Changbin’s and kiss him over and over, until Jisung sensed what was happening and sat up to pull you against him instead. Jisung’s lips were soft and warm, like the most silken caramel you could imagine, and you were soon fully awake and kissing passionately as Changbin’s hand smoothed the muscles up and down your back. Jisung’s little moans at being so thoroughly happy and comfortable were the sweetest thing you’d ever heard.

When you raked your fingers through his hair, he became utterly lost to your touch, whining and running his hands over as much of you as he could. Changbin’s hand had moved from Jisung’s shoulders to his thigh, slowly moving higher and higher; he wouldn’t stray any further, but it was enough to make Jisung wriggle. You continued threading your fingers through his hair as Changbin smoothed his thumb along your cheekbone and you kissed along Jisung’s jaw until you encountered the slightly calloused but soft skin of Changbin’s palm. Your lips simply slid from one curving line to another as you leaned into Changbin’s touch.

Limbs, breaths, kisses utterly intermingled and where one person ended and the others began was nearly indistinguishable as the soft caresses between the three of you continued. As wave after wave of tenderness washed over you, the intensity of emotion you felt threatened to make you cry. You knew that what you felt came very, very close to love.

↠↞

Seated at the small table by the window of your usual cafe and sipping on a latte, you waited for Chan to arrive. Snow flurries danced along the street, whipped about by a surprisingly insistent wind. It had been a week and a half since Jisung had confronted him about seeing you, and, while you’d texted and called each other, this was the first time you’d seen Chan. The bell above the door of the cafe tinkled as he came through the door, shaking snow from his hair. Chan’s ears and cheeks were bright red from the cold, making him look ten years younger and extremely cute.

You stood as he approached and squished his cheeks a little between your hands while kissing his nose… to warm him up, of course. Chan laughed, and pulled you into a one-armed hug as he began to shrug off his jacket before taking a seat.

“So, what’s up, darling?” he said, leaning forward on the table to face you.

“Well, I wanted to talk about us,” you said frankly, wishing you could muster more tact and failing.

“Oh, okay.” Chan looked only marginally surprised, and waited for you to continue.

“Jisung told me that he talked to you that one day we all baked cookies together,” you began. “Do you- Do you really feel that way?”

Chan was silent for a moment. “What way?”

“Like I’m… Like I’m your compass?”

“Yeah, I do.” His voice was absolutely serious.

“Oh, Chan,” you breathed, putting your face in your hands. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

“Y/N…” Chan said, not understanding and reaching across the table for you.

“Chan, I’m really not sure what to say,” you murmured, looking back up at him. “I wasn’t expecting you to feel that strongly for me so soon.”

Chan’s hand paused just inches from your hand and he slowly drew it back to his side before speaking. “Is it that you don’t feel the same?”

“I—“ You paused. “Sorry, this is surprisingly hard. Chan, it’s not that I don’t like you or am not interested. I’m just not at the same level of feeling as you, that’s all. I don’t want you to think that I’m ready to be yours forever or something.”

Chan balked slightly, your words clearly hitting just a little too close to home. He looked down at the table, his throat bobbing once as he swallowed. “I understand. Is this why you didn’t tell Jisung we’d gone on a couple dates? Because it wasn’t as serious for you?”

“Yes,” you said simply, knowing you were treading on dangerous ground.

“Ah. Well, we can go slowly, Y/N. It’s okay.” Chan’s tone was resolute, as if he wanted to simply make everything better by stating that it would be.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to somehow shackle you when you could be with someone who’s on your same level emot—“

“I’d much rather be with you, darling,” Chan interrupted with a soft smile.

“O-okay,” you nodded. You sat there for a moment, just staring at your hands as fiddled with your thumb.

“Shall we have some tiramisu, then?” Chan asked with a wink, trying his best to break the somber mood.

You let out a huff of air that could have been a laugh. “Sure, Chan, that sounds good.”

↠↞

Changbin sighed happily as he leaned back on his couch, a glass of wine in one hand and Jisung’s hand in the other. They’d been watching a television show earlier, but now just sat together, reminiscing. Now that they’d realized and admitted their feelings for each other, and were dating, they both saw the myriad ways in which their mutual attraction had manifested over the years, unbeknownst to them. Mostly unbeknownst to them.

Jisung sat facing Changbin on the couch, one leg thrown over his lap and the other tucked under himself, tracing the lines of his boyfriend’s body. When he reached Changbin’s ear, he took his time following the spiraling shape until he then moved to his jaw.

“Bin, whatcha thinking about?” Jisung said, tilting his head to the side as he traced the faint scar on Changbin’s chin.

“The first time I realized how I felt about you,” Changbin replied, smiling lazily.

“Was that the day by the lake? With the duck?”

“How did you know?”

“Well, you know,” Jisung purred, “I thought you looked cute as hell that day, too.”

“I- Really? I could’ve sworn you had absolutely no interest. None. I still can’t believe this is real.” Changbin’s tone was wondering.

“Yeah, I did. And yeah, this is real,” Jisung reassured him, kissing his earlobe and making Changbin shiver. “I’ve definitely liked you since then. So much, babe, you have no idea.”

Changbin turned his face to Jisung and caught the other young man’s lips with his own, smiling at the slightly sweet taste of him. Jisung swiped his tongue along the seam of Changbin’s mouth and he moaned as they came together, searching every hollow and plane of each other’s mouths. Kiss after kiss, some lingering and some heated. Jisung’s hands were in Changbin’s hair as their passion consumed them, while Changbin took care to hold Jisung like he was the most precious thing he’d ever known.

They broke the kiss, gasping slightly, and Jisung brought Changbin’s hand to his lips, kissing the space behind his thumb before turning his boyfriend’s hand over to kiss the inside of his wrist. Changbin’s mouth quirked up in what might have been a smirk before the other side joined its opposite to create a softly radiant smile that made his eyes sparkle.

Just as Jisung was leaning in to kiss Changbin again—and maybe more, if he had anything to say about it—the door to the apartment clicked open and Chan’s voice floated down the hall.

“Changbin? You home, man?”

“Aw, come on,” Changbin groaned, and tried to think of a nice, freezing cold bath.

Jisung quickly scooted away down the couch from Changbin, running a hand through his hair before taking a sip from his own glass of wine. “We should really tell him,” he murmured just as Chan entered the living room.

“Oh, hey Jisung,” he said, smiling happily at having his two best friends there.

“Hey, Chan.”

“So, what were you two up to—wine?” The latter part of the question was said with only a small amount of surprise. Chan enjoyed a nice glass of Pino Grigio every now and then.

“We were just watching TV and drinking a little,” Jisung answered.

“Hey, Chan,” Changbin started, “could we talk with you about something? It’s important.”

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

“Well, I have no idea how else to say this— Um, yeah. We know we’re all friends, so this should be okay and all… And we know you’re accepting and understanding.” Changbin sounded more nervous than he’d been in a long time, even to his own ears. “So, yeah. We’re dating. Jisung and I are dating.” Jisung nodded in affirmation. “And we’re both dating Y/N. We’re all dating each other, actually.”

Chan stared at him for a moment, then shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, okay. I see it. I’d wondered if there was something more going on back at the beginning of the month. So, you two are happy? The three of you are happy?” He tried his best not to sound accusatory, despite having no reason to be; he just wanted the best for these three people he cared about so much.

“We are,” Jisung said, beaming and gently rubbing Changbin’s knee to help soothe him. “And I know Y/N is, too.”

Chan just nodded again and said, “Well, I’m glad that you two have found even more happiness. And I’m glad that you can make Y/N happy, too. Oh, and don’t worry—this doesn’t affect 3racha.” He smiled. “Look, I’ve got some work to do, so I’ll see you both later, yeah?”

“See you!” Changbin and Jisung chorused, then went back to cuddling as soon as Chan left the room.

Chan opened the door to his bedroom and sighed. He was happy for his best friends, he really was. They had something together that he didn’t have with either of them—not in a romantic way, but just as friends. And… He sighed again, leaning against the now closed door. And, he was happy that you had both of them in your life so thoroughly.

It was just that, well, he felt a little pushed to the side. After all, he was friends with Jisung and Changbin, and he was seeing you—albeit casually—but he still didn’t feel like everything had shifted properly into place. Maybe there was something missing with you. Maybe 3racha just needed to get in the studio again…

↠↞

It was the beginning of April, and the pollen had started to get to you. You let your head thump softly onto the desk in front of you, your pen slipping from your fingers to fall onto the what was soon becoming the bane of your existence: your final poetry project. It was maddening, trying to find just the right words and scansion, not to mention metaphors and allusions. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t eaten since noon, but your body felt like a withered corn husk. And, your mind would burst, if you weren’t careful; you couldn’t afford to let that happen, not three-quarters of the way through your last semester.

On the desk beside you, your phone buzzed and you checked it to see a text from Chan:

channie: hey darling <3 are we still on for tonight?

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

You’d almost forgotten about your date with Chan, and now that he’d so kindly reminded you… Well, it would be rude to cancel now but you just didn’t have the energy.

You didn’t have the energy to be with Chan more often than not these days. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him—you were just busy. Really fucking busy. He was fun to kiss and cuddle and be intimate with, but you didn’t have the mental fortitude to actively be interested.

It was difficult to describe… You were certainly physically attracted to Chan, and found him engaging and fun to be around. But, there was something missing. Perhaps you’d been thrust into a time-loop where Chan was concerned—that would explain the way every single one of your dates felt the same these days. You didn’t feel like your, for lack of a better word, relationship was going anywhere, like your emotions and the time you spent together were static.

He was so deeply interested in and attracted to you that you sometimes wondered if you actually felt anything for him and if all of this was simply you reflecting his own desire back at him. But then you’d come to your senses and remember how much seeing his little dimple appear would make you grin and giggle to no end.

And now, you should really respond to Chan.

y/n: hey channie. um, i’m absolutely exhausted from this poetry project… could we maybe not do anything tonight? channie: sure baby! want me to just bring over some food and we can do or not do whatever you like! y/n: i- chan, i’m sorry. i meant: can we not get together tonight. i literally don't have the energy to deal with other people channie: aww sorry you’re feeling like that. sure, darling, whatever you need. maybe we can see each other tomorrow! y/n: wow your optimism knows no bounds…. [UNSENT]

Now you were even more tired and just wanted to curl up under the covers and never come out. That would solve all your problems, right? So, with the blanket snugly pulled over your head, you drifted off to sleep.

An hour later your phone buzzed again, waking you up, but it was Jisung this time. You weren’t quite sure how he knew you needed comforting, but he did and said he’d be over soon. You rolled over at the feeling of another body depressing the mattress, and let Jisung enfold you in his arms.

The next day, Chan did come over to find you sitting on your couch with a mug of tea in one hand and a scone in the other. (Jisung was going through a bit of a baking phase, and had insisted that you try one of his cranberry and orange scones). You hadn’t gotten out of bed until an hour before Chan was due to arrive, and your hair was still piled on top of your head in a messy topknot. Chan, on the other hand, looked far too awake and put-together, even in just jeans and a sweatshirt, for a Saturday morning.

“I brought us lunch,” he said, setting a bag down on the coffee table and flopping down beside you. “I hope you’re in the mood for sandwiches, because that’s all I had time to make.”

“It’s fine, Chan. I’ve got more scones than I know what to do with. Did Ji give you any?”

“No,” Chan said, shaking his head, “I think he must have given them all to you and Changbin. That little traitor.”

You stood briefly to turn in place and curl your feet back under you on the couch, much like a cat would, then took a sip of tea. Your heart pounded slightly faster than you would have liked. “I’m sure you’ll get scones at some point.”

“I’d better…” Chan began pulling four sandwiches from his bag, clearly having thought that Jisung and Changbin would stop by.

“You didn’t have to bring all of those,” you said, frowning. “They’re not coming over.”

“Hmm? Oh, no. I brought two for me and two for you—they’re not that big, so I’m almost certain that you’ll want two.”

“Pffftt, really?” you asked incredulously, then took a closer look at the food. “Yeah, okay. You’re right.”

The two of you sat and stared at the sandwiches for a moment, Chan clearly wanting to break into them, while you couldn’t care less. You stared out your window at the new growth on the trees.

“Don’t you want to eat?” Chan finally asked.

“Eh, not really. Like I said: scone.”

Chan seemed to think for a moment, then said, “Y/N, is everything okay?”

“Um, well… Damn it.” You sighed gustily, and set down your mug before turning to Chan on the couch. “Chan, I have no idea how else to say this…”

“It’s okay, I’ll listen, darling.”

You pursed your lips, biting your bottom lip. “Chan, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t try to feel things I don’t. I can’t try to sustain a relationship that feels like an obligation. I hate feeling like that because you don’t deserve to be with someone who can’t put one hundred percent into their relationship with you.” Chan’s face fell. “Things are just so busy for me right now, what with graduation coming in less than two months, all these projects and papers—everything. Plus, there’s Jisung and Changbin.

“I do like you Chan, and I do like spending time with you. And you’re wonderful in bed, don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you. I’ve just— If I’m going to be with you, too, then I want to devote the proper time to building that relationship, instead of catching bits and pieces when there’s time. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does,” Chan admitted resignedly. “I respect your feelings and choices, if you want to stop seeing each other. I’m sorry you feel like us being together has become an obligation. That must not feel good, yeah?” You shook your head, grateful for how understanding he was being. “If you only want to see each other randomly or just have it be like friends-with-benefits—whatever’s fine with me. I’d just love to keep seeing you somehow.”

You thought for a moment, sipping on your tea again. Not having any expectations for your relationship with Chan would certainly make things easier…

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed. “Maybe we can just see each other when we have time and if we decide to make-out or go to bed or whatever, then okay? More like just enjoying each other’s company rather than trying to date?” You looked to Chan, who hadn’t taken his eyes off you the entire conversation. “How does that sound?”

“Anything you want, Y/N. Anything.” Chan gave you a sad little smile, then stood. “I’ll just leave the sandwiches and everything here. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon, anyway. I- I just need to go be by myself, if that’s okay. Bye, Y/N.” With that, Chan hurried from your apartment, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head as he did so.

You sighed to yourself once the door clicked shut, and got up to make yourself another cup of tea. By the time the water had boiled and you were back on the couch, your thoughts had ordered themselves.

Sure, Chan thought of you as his compass, the thing—well, person—guiding him and keeping him on track; he thought of you as an anchor. But you had something similar. You had a far stronger compass forged from two beings who, no matter how far you strayed, would always point you toward each other, toward home. Jisung and Changbin were your true north.

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Wade, part Two

Rating: SFW Length: 966 Pairing: Male Gillman/Fishman x GN Reader

Part two of my gift for @momolady​

xxx

Living near the coast makes it easy to visit Wade after you get through the grounding period your parents enforce for scaring the shit out of them that day. You ride your bike down to the beach and guide it over the rocks on foot, picking your way to the cove where you’d first met time and time again. Each day that you go down, you try to show Wade something new, and he devours the knowledge of whatever you bring like a starving man. In exchange, Wade teaches you about his people and some of the languages that you can learn, which include a language signed with the hands and another that can be read through the different patterns and textures woven into fabrics and kelp.

Years pass this way, but they’re not uneventful. You and Wade often butt heads when you’re younger, both either too stubborn or too amused to be the first to give in. Only rarely does Wade’s angler fish grin falter, and it’s during those times that your fights escalate into shouting matches and avoidance that sometimes spans days or weeks. Still, every time you decide to seek him out again, Wade is already there at the cove waiting for you, and you always wonder how long it had been since he had forgiven you.

Both of you mellow and change as the years go by until your heated arguments turn into exasperated bickering, and you start looking forward to each others’ company instead of just the exchange of cultural information. When you’re in high school, you get a part time job and save up to get Wade his own cell phone, which he keeps in a resealable plastic baggie behind a boulder in the cove well above the water line. You spend long nights and early mornings talking in secret about everything and nothing, until either your parents wake up or his studies call him away again.

Wade gets busier as the years go on, his duties as a future dignitary taking him away for days at a time. You realise you’re in love with him during one such business trip when your heart aches at his absence, and you find yourself toying with your phone and typing draft after draft of text messages before you delete them before they get sent. You kick yourself for falling for the one person in the world that you can’t have, and then you resign yourself to a lifetime of pining. It’s almost a relief when you graduate high school and send out applications, snatching up a plane ticket to the university the furthest away from that section of the coast as you can get.

You’ve barely settled in before Under the Sea starts to play from your phone, and you almost drop it into a box in your haste to answer it. “Hey, Wade.”

Wade’s familiar gravel-soft voice warbles from the earpiece. “Where are you?” he asks, impatience in his tone.

“At uni,” you say, sitting down at the edge of your bed and kicking off your shoes.

“That was today?” He curses in his native tongue—a gurgling click that you’ve heard more than once. “Damn it. I lost track of the days. It’s just another school, right? Can you swing by tomorrow afternoon? There’s been a new wreck and it’s close by. The human authorities haven’t found it yet. I could take you if you get ahold of your uncle’s boat.”

You look down at your socks and take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Not until summer,” you tell him, and grimace into the sudden silence.

“What?”

“I took two flights to be here,” you say, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. “I’m hours from home now. I’ll have classes almost every day, so I can’t get to you until school lets out.”

“You didn’t tell me any of this,” Wade snarls, temper flaring like the days of your youth.

“You know going to school is important to me,” you say, which isn’t entirely a lie; you have decided on majoring in marine biology and biological oceanography, with a minor in political science. If nothing else, you would be useful to him.

“Important enough to leave me?” he demands, and your stomach twists before your own temper rears its ugly head.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you,” you snap, sitting up straighter and glaring at the wall.

“Don’t twist my words. How could you just leave like this without saying anything?”

“I have to go on with my life! I can’t just stay home forever because it’s convenient for you!”

“‘Convenient’? Convenience? Is that what you think this is about? How dare you reduce me to a child throwing a tantrum because his plaything ran away?”

“I dare because that’s what it sounds like!”

“You lied by omission! I deserved to know! You owed me that much!”

“I don’t owe you anything, Wade!”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from the human who would have been fish food if I hadn’t—”

“Really? You’re going there, after all these years? You’re going to throw that in my face?”

“You should have told me you were leaving,” Wade seethes, voice harsh and more sibilant than usual; he must have been struggling not to grit his rows of sharp teeth. “Do I mean nothing to you?”

“Why do you think I left?!” you shout, then suck in a breath when you realise what you’ve gone and said. “Wait.”

“I see,” Wade grinds out, terse and taut.

“Wade—”

The phone beeps by your ear, a sign of the call disconnecting. You give into the urge to throw it across the room onto your future roommate’s bed with an anguished wail, then bury your face into your pillows and try not to cry.

You don’t succeed.

[joonsrack]

Masterpiece | KTH x KNJ

+PAIRING: Kim Taehyung x Kim Namjoon

+GENRE: Oneshot, crack, angst, smidge of smut, College AU, stranger to lover

+WORD COUNT: ~13k

+RATING: 18+

+WARNING: Taehyung has face blindness, NSFW, (very) foul language, overuse of the word penis and it’s synonyms, pinning, misunderstandings, Namjoon is like real’ dumb, a little hanky panky but nothing scandalous.

+SUMMARY: 

“So let me recap here, you don’t know his name, his major, his department, his age, his number, nor his face. The only clue you have is this drawing, which basically looks like a textbook example of unrealistic body expectations. You apparently know every nook and cranny of his [REDACTED], but you didn’t have the decency to ask his name? You deserve this.” He cackles, angering Taehyung.

(OR the one where Taehyung has face blindness but that won't stop him from finding love. )

+A/N: Well, it’s been almost a year since I’ve posted anything, and almost as much time since i last wrote anything (except for the occasional guilt writing lmao). So this is me coming back with a vengeance (and the dumbest thing i’ve ever written). This is all thanks to (or to be blamed on) @minloop who put up with my non-stop messaging, gave me some plot ideas, and actually inspired me to finish this in three days. Thank you to my baby @emojihobi​ for the emotional support and the beta reading 💖

+Disclaimer: I got all my info on face blindness from google searches, so please forgive any inaccuracy.

Face blindness has definitely made Taehyung’s life difficult. 

There’s the obvious problem of not being able to recognize your parents. Remember this childhood trauma of holding a random stranger’s hands in the mall, thinking it’s your mother or father? Taehyung had to live through that many, many times; except he wouldn’t realize until said stranger would shake his hand off, or until his parents would swoop in to get him. The fact that he’s never been kidnapped is down to pure luck, really.

Making friends, you guessed it, has also been a challenge. It’s difficult explaining to kids why you ignored them when you saw each other in the hallway. Kids don’t always understand “I didn’t recognize you” as an explanation, especially if you’ve been in the same class since pre-k.

But this? This is a new and unforeseen crisis.

+

 His dorm room is very quiet, which is not unusual since he has a solo room. But he’s pretty sure he went to sleep with a plus one, and said plus one is nowhere to be seen. 

Now, he isn’t a stranger to one-night stands sneaking out after he falls asleep. He likes to take night conquests to his dorm room for this exact reason; He can go right to sleep, while they take themselves out. Easy breezy no string attached-y. That’s usually the way he wants it to be. 

But this time is different. Last night was different. Last night, Taehyung had the best night of his life, hands down. Best bangs of his existence. Bangs plural because they went more than once. How that’s even possible when his teenage years are long gone and days with multiple orgasms are less and less common, he has no idea.

He’s probably ruined for anyone else. Nothing could ever compare to the night he just spent getting his back blown out. 

Now, Taehyung is a sculptor. A very gifted one at that (if his teachers’ praises are anything to go by). Taehyung knows body proportions, knows perfect rations, all that stuff. He knows it on marble bodies, in sketches, in painting. Not on actual human beings.

Until last night.

Last night, he witnessed the body of a god. He scratched at perfect skin, held on to beautifully defined and strong arms, rode perfect thighs. Last night, he shed a tear at the view of some perfect knees. Last night, he realized that art truly imitates nature. 

And that’s not all.

Taehyung can admit he owns a nice dick; it’s decently shaped, the color is nice, and the size is slightly over average. 

But what he witnessed the night before?

The Narcissus of dicks; the most beautiful dick on the planet. The most beautiful dick in history . Probably even prettier than Narcissus’ face himself. (But Taehyung doesn’t know what Narcissus' face looks like, so he’s only assuming.) 

From the perfect red color of its beautifully shaped head to the gracefully intertwined veins leading to a sturdy looking hilt, peppered with well-kept pubic hair, ending in an exquisitely wrinkled ballsack. The girth was over average; big enough to make size queens (such as Taehyung) salivate, but not big enough to scare away enthusiasts. And the length? The dude is lucky he’s a grower and not a show-er, or he would never know peace. Mainly because the likes of Taehyung or Park Jimin would never let him be.

But where is that most perfect penis right now? 

Attached to its perfectly shaped and mysterious owner, probably miles away.

Very problematic, indeed.

+

“So what you’re saying is, you fell asleep, and when you woke up he was gone? Isn’t that how it’s usually supposed to go?” Yoongi sounds disgruntled on the other end of the face call, face half mushed in his pillow, hair disheveled and eyes squinty. It’s not yet 1 pm after all, which is still considered morning for people like Min Yoongi.

“Noooo, not this time.” Taehyung whines,” This time he was supposed to stick around and ask me to marry him in the morning. Isn’t that obvious? We went at it four times for fuck sake, doesn’t that mean anything anymore?”

Jimin chokes on his matcha oatmeal milk latte, eyes going wide. “Four times?! Now that is a monster stamina. He basically squeezed your balls dry.” There’s a pause, then he says to someone off-camera, “It’s rude to stare, ma’am.”

“Stop ruining my morning with your screaming,” Yoongi grunts out, rubbing his eyes. “So what do you want us to do about this?”

Taehyung fumbles around his desk for a moment, looking through his piles of sketches until he finds it, his only clue.

“Do you two know this man?” He asks, pulling out a sketch he did quickly off his memory of the mystery man’s body. He pulls out a second one, this one is a close-up of his perfect penis. He might have gone off tangent with the shading, but he couldn't stop himself, that dick deserves all the shading.

“Jesus fuck.” Yoongi signs.

“Baby, I’m sure you’re aware that if I knew anyone with a body and a dick like that, you would never have been able to put your dirty paws on him.”

Taehyung turns hopeful eyes to Yoongi after glaring at Jimin for a good 10 seconds, but Yoongi only shakes his head no.

“I don’t have a habit of making my friends strip around me, sadly. I wouldn’t be able to tell even if I knew him.”

“You two are useless” Taehyung signs, his body deflating. Yoongi takes offense and hangs up. Or maybe he was going to hang up either way.

“So let me recap here, you don’t know his name, his major, his department, his age, his number, nor his face. The only clue you have is this drawing, which basically looks like a textbook example of unrealistic body expectations. You apparently know every nook and cranny of his penis, but you didn’t have the decency to ask his name? You deserve this.” He cackles, angering Taehyung. 

“I was busy sucking his dick, asshole.” He spits, but Jimin only snorts in answer.

“Good luck finding the owner of Mystery Penis.” He quips back, before hanging up as well.

+

All hope is lost. Never in his life has he despised his face blindness as much as he does right now. Of course, it’s never been easy dealing with it throughout his life. He’s lucky he has two solid friends he can count on. Although Jimin regularly dyes and changes his hairstyle without warning to mess with him. And Yoongi basically has two hours of availability per week, usually arranged around his sleeping schedule. 

But he knows they care for him, and he cares for them. 

He drags his feet to class. He uses ‘class’ lightly; being a third-year means most of his courses are spent in the workshop, working on his graduate exhibition. 

He’s got his trusty overalls on, covered in clay stains. He’s been working with clay for the last few weeks, using the medium for two of his exhibition pieces. 

He greets his teacher at the front desk with a nod, before making his way to his desk. Today’s playlist consists of oldies, and he makes it to his desk just as Lionel Richie’s voice fills the room. 

He snorts, rolling his eyes.

Hello is a classic of sculpting classes. No matter the teacher or the Instructor, they all love to play that song on repeat, and he usually doesn’t pay it any mind. But right now, isn’t there a more perfect song to taunt him?

Lionel Richie asks if it’s him he’s looking for, as he’s pulling his tool out of his bag. He unwraps the plastic wrap from around the latest project he’s been working on, already planning his next move. 

He’s pretty sure the sculpting world is all over that song only because of the music video.

It’s obvious that the whole ‘blind girl sculpting’ thing– 

Oh.

Oh dear god. The music video. 

The music video.

Taehyung has an idea.

His hands move before he can fully realize the plan in his head, rewrapping his project, and getting some new clay from the front of the class.

His teacher looks him up and down in all his frantic and excited glory.

 “A sudden stroke of inspiration?” He questions, sounding curious.

“Something like that.” Taehyung smiles, trying to act inconspicuous. His teacher won’t let him take the clay if it’s not for his graduate exhibition.

He makes it back to his station without any more inquiry and starts to work right away.

Jimin was right, he does know every nook and cranny of that penis. He spent hours getting acquainted with it, and he has an excellent memory (Except for faces, obviously).

All the other students are too busy working on their final projects to notice the massive penis under construction a few feet from them. If anyone asks, Taehyung will proudly answer that it’s a life-sized depiction. But no one is asking, so he simply works on bringing the piece to life. The students in his class rarely talk to him, since he hasn’t gone out of his way to develop any type of relationship with them. It’s easier like that.

Once he’s done, many hours later, he’s alone in the workshop with the sun setting outside.

He ogles proudly at his masterpiece, the erect penis standing tall on his station, truly a creature of beauty. It’s a perfect replica, down to the ballsack wrinkles; down to the cute mole at the hilt. Of course, it’s clay-colored, and it probably won't change since Taehyung hates painting his creations, but he’s absolutely certain that everything else is exactly like the original.

The oven has been preheating for a while, so it’s hot and ready to bake some penis. The only thing left is to leave it to cure for a while. Any ol’ regular penis would have taken less than an hour to cure, but we’re talking about a monster cock here. 

He pops it into the oven, sets a timer, just in time for a knock at the door to pull him out of his penis-induced craze.

“Yo, Tae,” Yoongi’s voice resonates from the door frame.

Taehyung grabs a rag from his station to clean his hand with before making his way to his friend. There’s someone with him, and Yoongi signals at his friend with a lazy wave of his hand. 

“Remember Namjoon?” He asks, but it’s a rhetorical question. Jimin and Yoongi have taken to the habit of identifying the people they’re with, so Taehyung doesn't have to embarrass himself trying to figure it out on his own. That way, they don’t have to explain his condition to every single person that isn’t in his immediate friend circle. 

(Is it even a circle if it’s two people?) 

He sends a nod in Namjoon’s way and gets a wave back, and that’s as far as their exchange goes, as usual. Except today, his whole body language reads nervous and tense. But that’s none of Taehyung’s business.

“We’re going to see some juniors perform in a pub, you want to come with?” Yoongi asks him, and Taehyung knows he means well, but he also knows that Yoongi knows he doesn’t like crowded spaces. 

He and Jimin have tried to get him to go out more, but the only time Taehyung steps foot inside any type of alcohol selling establishment is when he wants to get laid. And there’s only one place he goes to then; that crappy little Bar near campus that’s only frequented by broke students who also want to get laid. 

He doesn’t like anywhere that’s dark where there’s enough people to make him lose sight of his friends. Something about losing his parents at the mall one too many times.

“That sounds nice, but I have to finish this piece I’m working on.” He answers, trying to sound as regretful as he can. It doesn’t really work, judging by Yoongi’s unconvinced humming. 

“Alright, careful when you go back home.” Yoongi finally answers, patting him on the shoulder. 

He starts walking away, but his friend, Namjoon, stays frozen on the spot, facing him. He’s looking at Taehyung in some kind of way, but face blindness makes it hard for him to read other’s expressions. He raises a single eyebrow in interrogation, and that seems to make Namjoon snap out of it. He turns on his heel without as much as a goodbye, which, rude .

“'Kay, bye.” He mutters after him.

But he can’t hold it against him. He knows that ‘Namjoon’ has been a long-time friend of Yoongi and that they’ve spent some time together by association. Taehyung doesn’t go out of his way to get to know new people, so there’s a high chance Namjoon might have tried to approach him with friendship in mind, only to end up frustrated by Taehyung’s lack of interest. Happens all the time. He can’t really help it, reading intentions is not in his toolbox.

He should probably tell Yoongi to share his ‘secret’ with Namjoon. He seems nice enough from what he heard, so he would probably be understanding. It should at least clear up the misunderstanding, and Taehyung might even gain a new friend, who knows?

He makes his way back to his station, works on his actual project while the oven takes care of making his penis nice and hard. 

+

The next morning, he wakes up to ten texts from Jimin, one from Yoongi, and multiple missed calls and voicemail from his workshop teacher.

 Asshole with pink hair:

9:40 am    ur crazy

9:40 am    CRAZY

9:40 am    This is hilarious

9:41 am    That’s why i love u

9:41 am    That is a beautiful dick

9:41 am    Like it was nice on paper, but the 3D version definitely makes me wonder about its  owner

10:26 am  All the student body is buzzing about the mystery penis

10:27 am  It’s on the front page of the school newspaper

10:27 am  omg you dumbass u didnt write your number

10:27 am  you didn't write your number anywhere brb dying of laughter

Hyungie:

11:32 am  You didnt write your infos dumb dumb

Taehyung bangs his head on his pillow, hoping for quick death. How could he forget to write down his infos? How is anyone supposed to contact him?

+

Namjoon has come to learn quickly that university isn’t always the most sanest place on the planet. Cramming, into a single building, that amount of genius with that amount of insanity is bound to create interesting events.

He’s stopped being surprised by most things, might be guilty of doing some of those surprising things from time to time. But today? Today is on a whole new level.

Somehow, his dick is plastered all over the school, in every hallway, on every door. Think Regina George distributing the burn book copy all over school but, multiplied by 50, that’s how many pictures of his dick are distributed around school right now. Not an actual picture of his actual dick, but an actual picture of an actual clay replica, with big bold yellow letters spelling out 'HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PENIS?', and nothing else.

It’s vaguely threatening.

He wishes he couldn’t tell that it’s his penis, then maybe he could laugh with the rest of the student body. But there’s no mistaking it. One look and he knew. The person who printed those flyers made sure to include all the possible angles, too. 

It’s 100% his dick. 

The slight curve is there, the mole is there, everything is there.

The intentions of the maker are unclear, but there’s one thing for sure: he knows exactly who’s behind it. He only knows one sculptor who has seen his penis, and that’s the current bane of his life, Kim Taehyung.

It’s not enough that Taehyung has been completely ignoring his existence before their night of passion together, he’s also been ignoring him after. 

And now this? Plastering his dick all over school? For absolutely no reason? Did he not like the night they spent together? Was this a great big ploy to make fun of him? Is this Taehyung’s way to reject him? To tell him to stay away from him? He knows he’s never been really subtle with his crush, but isn’t this going way too far? 

At least he had the very, very basic decency to forgo his name from the flyers, or Namjoon might have had to run away to the next town. 

Namjoon is not dumb, he knows his ancient Greece lore and what they thought about big dicks.

Taehyung didn’t write this so people would look at the dick, he’s obviously calling him a dick.  And for what, pinning on him for the last year? Can’t a man have a crush in peace?

Maybe he shouldn't have approached Taehyung that night. 

One thing is for sure, Taehyung is sending him a very clear message to stay away from him.

+

He spent a fortune printing all those hands out, and now he has to reprint them all? Taehyung knows very well he can’t afford another round of mass printing. Plus the librarian probably won’t ever let him walk into the library again. She had to come and refill the printer at least three times in the hour he was there. The environmental club was even called on scene by one of the students waiting for his turn at the printer. Talk about a snitch.

He can’t afford to reprint everything, and there’s no way he’ll go around school writing his number by hand.

He listens to the voicemails from his teacher then, uncovering a new hurdle.

The first one goes like this:

"Kim Taehyung I know it’s you, you left that thing on your desk."

Then the second:

"Kim Taehyung, you will take down these handouts right this instant before the Dean can see them, you hear me? He'll put you on probation and my head on a stick."

Taehyung muffles his groans into his pillow. Maybe it’s a good thing he forgot to include his number. He should have thought of that before.

He throws on some clothes, heeding his teacher’s warning. He better get to school quickly.

He texts Yoongi and Jimin to take down as many as they can if they want to see him live for another day. Yoongi doesn’t answer and Jimin only texts back asking if he can keep one for his room.

Some friend circle he’s got there.

He makes it onto campus in under half an hour, and gets to work, taking them down as quickly as he can.

He’s got only a few hallways left to do when someone taps him sharply on the shoulder. He spins around, dreading the moment he comes face to face with the Dean. Not that he could recognize the Dean.

“Are you the Dean?” He stammers in a small voice.

“What? No- you. I swear to god. Just tell me if you hate me that much.” Stranger says, before putting his long leg to good use, striding away from him. He throws a bunched-up flyer on the floor before disappearing down the hallway as quickly as he’s appeared.

Taehyung is stunned for a good minutes, utterly confused

The voice sounds similar, but other than that he has no idea who just spit those words at him. He doesn’t hate anyone, and he doesn't see why anyone would believe he has those kinds of ill feelings towards them.

+

Now that his plan has miserably failed, Taehyung falls into hopelessness once again. He lays in bed, holding his precious sculpture to himself. It’s the only thing he has left from his fateful encounter. Or he thought it was fate, but now he’s wondering if that was life making fun of him. 

Jimin is laying by his side, examining the sketch of the body with clear interest. It’s making Taehyung feel a little possessive. 

“Maybe you should try again in the school gym, no one gets a body like that from not going to the gym. You could say you’re looking for a model or something.”

Taehyung stares at his friend with all the admiration he can muster. 

“I would kiss you so hard right now.”

“We tried that once, remember?”

“Yes, and that’s why I won’t be doing it, but I would, just so you know.”

“Cool.” 

He snatches the sketch out of Jimin’s hands to get to work on the shading, trying to get his drawing as realistic looking as possible. Making a whole body out of clay would take too long, so Taehyung will have to settle for his sketch. 

Once he’s done, some 30 minutes have passed. He whirl around on his desk chair, waving the sketch around successfully, only to stop dead in his tracks. He finds Jimin with his precious sculpture halfway down his throat.

“Jimin!” He exclaims, fuming. “Get your dirty mouth off my penis!”

Jimin startles and chokes in surprise, but then bursts out laughing once the sculpture is safely out of his mouth.

“Sorry, sorry. I was just really curious about the size. You never cease to amaze me.”

Taehyung snatches his precious phallus back, grabbing some tissues to wipe off Jimin's drool.

“If I can’t find him, this is going up my ass, so don’t touch it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jimin grimaces, rearranging himself on the bed. He grabs his phone to waste some time, probably ignoring his other responsibilities as the end of their final semester is quickly approaching. “You want to end up in the emergency room? Just use it to make a mold and replicate it with some silicon at least.” 

Taehyung raises both eyebrows in astonishment.

“Jimin, your genius never ceases to amaze me.”

+

He successfully drags Jimin with him to the campus gym. Normally the prospect of hot sweaty people grunting, in various states of undress would attract Jimin like a bee to honey, but since he’s already banged or broken up with half the people that go there, Taehyung has to keep a firm hold on his friend’s wrist.

“Why do I have to come with you again?” 

“It was your idea, so you’re taking responsibility.”

“I don’t like taking my responsibilities, they suck,” Jimin grumbles, but he stops trying to run away.

The moment they step into the gym, they’re assaulted by the musky smell of sweat and determination. There’s a high volume of people working out, probably wanting to channel their end-of-semester jitters into iron pumping. 

Taehyung spots the front desk, putting his business smile on while reaching into his folder. He hears Jimin greet someone, going off by himself, but Taehyung bears him no mind and heads straight for the Woman working the counter.

“Hi there,” he says, charm on, “ I was wondering if you could help me out,-”

“Yes you can put your flyers up, no you don’t have to pay for it, no we won’t take it down before the end of the semester, yes I do have some tape.” She says without missing a beat, not looking up at him.

“Damn, maybe I’m here because I want to sign up for a membership.” 

She finally looks up from her computer, assessing Taehyung from head to toe.

“No you don’t babe. Here’s the tape.” She says, handing him the tape while blowing a bubble with her pink gum. Multitasking at its finest.

Taehyung doesn’t feel like taking her on a debate, so he gets hold of the roll of tape and gets to work, spotting where other people left their flyers so he can put his right by them. 

He scans the gym once or twice with a quick look, trying to see if, by a stroke of luck, Mystery Man could be there. No one that is shirtless has the body he’s looking for, and he sadly doesn’t have x-ray vision to check the rest. No amount of wishing as a kid made him grow that ability.

He puts up the first flyer, this time containing all his info, and stares at it proudly. He's got a good feeling about this.

Jimin finds him again as he’s putting up his last flyer, sounding excited about something.

“I had no idea Namjoon worked out. He’s got nice arms hidden beneath those sweatshirts.”

“Namjoon? Yoongi’s friend?”

“Yeah! And he changed his hair color, it looks really good on him. A little lighter than he used to have.”

Taehyung nods along, not really pressed to know more. He’s got other fish to fry.

+

Namjoon slowly counts to 30 after seeing Taehyung leave the premises, before he basically sprints to the nearest wall, spotting the flyers Taehyung has put up.

There’s a sketch on it, a sketch of a body. A body that looks strangely like his. He frowns, before reading the caption.

“Sculpting student looking for body model. Body must look like this. Call XXX-XXX-XXXX. Food as compensation. ”

Namjoon cannot believe his eyes. Taehyung knows he’s got that exact body type, yet he didn’t ask for his help. If he needed any other confirmation that Taehyung hates him, there’s one right there.

Just what did he do to the man to make him hate him so much? 

Since he’s confronted him in the hallway, Taehyung still hasn’t reached out to him. It would be easy to do. He knows Taehyung has his number, they exchanged it when they first met, so nothing is stopping him. Unless he’s happy with the way things are.

+

Maybe Jimin is not as much of a genius as he thought. By the sixth person that walks in to be a body model, he realizes this is getting expensive in food bribes and studio fees. He has also stopped putting up the pretense of wanting to sketch anyone anymore. 

But this time, It’s one Jung Hoseok who walks in.

“Have we slept together before?” He asks right off the bat, tired of wasting his precious time. It’s his new modus operandi; invite them in, ask the burning question, then send them on their way with the promised food to avoid complaints. 

“I don’t believe so, but maybe we should fix that,” Hoseok answers, taking off his shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Your flyers have a nude body on it, you made me come to a private studio, isn’t this a nude modeling thing?” Hoseok questions, but doesn’t stop undressing. He’s already reaching for his belt. 

Something tells Taehyung this man would be really sad to be told to put his clothes back on. The way he’s unapologetically getting naked tells Taehyung everything he needs to know. 

“So, why are you asking?” He inquires while posing, everything hanging loose and stuff. “Is that how you get laid? Asking hot dudes to model, then seducing them once they’re naked and vulnerable?”

Jung Hoseok doesn’t seem to be feeling very vulnerable right now, but Taehyung keeps that to himself.

“God no. Jesus that would be sleazy of me.”

“Not as sleazy as asking me if we’ve slept together 5 seconds into our first meeting.” Hoseok points out.

“ Touché. ” He admits, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Hoseok doesn’t press him for an answer, and they spend the next few minutes in silence, the only sound coming from Taehyung's pencil on the thick page of his sketchbook.

Jung Hoseok, standing confidently in front of him in all of his naked glory, has a certain aura around him. The way he holds himself, no hesitation to bare it all, head held high; it's like he never had to hide anything in his life. Like he never knew shame. To the point where it inspires Taehyung to utter the next words:

“I have face blindness.” He starts off, which gets his model’s attention. He keeps his eyes down on his paper to avoid eye contact, feeling rusty when it comes to revealing this part of himself. He continues quickly, “I had a one-night stand with this– perfect greek god. He had the perfect penis, too. Best sex of my life.” He's making good progress on his sketch, Hoseok’s body graceful and easy to put on paper. “I’m trying to find him, but I don’t know anything about him, and I can’t tell people’s faces apart." He chuckles deprecatingly, "The only clue I have is the way his body looks. So I put up this ad for body models hoping he would show up.”

Hoseok breaks his pose to slap his hands together, then pointing at him. “Oh my god, are you the one that plastered the whole school with the penis sculpture a few days ago? Was that your version of a ‘Wanted’ poster?”

Taehyung feels his cheeks warm up.

“Yeah, but I almost lost my diploma over that so let’s not mention it.”

Hoseok laughs with his whole body, clapping his hands together a few more times as if to express his excitement.

“That was the best thing to ever happen on this campus since 1993, thank you for that.”

His statement piques Taehyung's interest.

“What happened in 1993?” He asks, expecting anything but what comes outs of Hoseok's mouth next.

“My mom and dad conceived me in the bathroom of the literature wing.”

Taehyung chortles, surprising even himself with how loud it is.

“Now that’s a conception story worth telling your kids.”

“They didn't tell me; They got caught and got expelled the next day. They framed their expulsion letter, it’s still on display in the kitchen.” Hoseok’s voice is dripping with fondness, betraying his love for his family. “The thing is, I learned how to read at a very early age.”

Taehyung is possessed by another wave of uncontrollable laughter. He wipes a stray tear from his eyes, taking a second to compose himself.

“There, you’re looking a little better now. “

Taehyung looks up at the man, standing there in his birthday suit, going out of his way to cheer him up even though they’re perfect strangers.

(Maybe not so perfect since he’s seen him naked, but still.)

He chuckles again, going back to his sketching.

“Wait does this mean you don’t actually need models right now?”

“Well yeah," Taehyung answers, shrugging his shoulders, "But you looked like you would be really disappointed if I told you to stop undressing, so I just went along with it.”

Hoseok nods his agreement, going back into his original position.

“Good call. Now that we’re here you better get the shading of my calves right. They’re my pride and glory.”

“On it.”

+

Who would have thought that this whole ordeal would have somehow turned into Taehyung making a new friend.

He looks at the contact number in his phone staring back at him. It’s written 'Jung Hoseok' with a little sun emoji. He’s told him everything he needs to know to avoid misunderstandings, and Hoseok left with the promise to always greet him first when they see each other in the hallway. It’s sad that he only met the man in his last stretch before getting his degree, but as they say: better late than never.

He’s excited to get to know Hoseok, but he doesn’t know if he should text him first. He’s feeling a little socially rusty, having not approached anyone with the intention of being friends in a long, long time. Which is why he jumps with glee when he sees he’s got a text notification from his new friend. But then he reads the text, and the glee morphes into unadulterated excitement.

 Jung Hoseok 🌞:

4:56 pm    I think i know who your penis belongs to

4:56 pm    can you send me a picture? I lost the flyers i kept from that time

                                       4:59 pm    You sent a picture

 5:01 pm   Yeah it’s really similar 

5:01 pm    Kim Seokjin, XXX-XXX-XXXX, probably currently working the counter at the campus coffee shop. 

5:02 pm     He’s tall, broad shoulders, awesome dick

Taehyung doesn’t even take the time to text back his thanks; he wraps up his project in a disorderly manner, wiping his hands on his shirt with no care in the world. He throws his backpack on and basically sprint to the coffee shop he usually tends to avoid. The owner is totally an evil capitalist, ripping off students with his overpriced coffee.

He gets there in record time, gasping for air as his poor lungs try to keep up with enough exercise to last him a lifetime.

He’s covered in clay stains, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, clothes in dismay, lungs wheezing, so he should probably expect the next few events that unfold. 

He walks into the coffee shop still out of breath, asks if Kim Seokjin is there to the first employee he sees. This is one of those times where he’s happy he can’t read people’s expressions, because he has a feeling he’s being judged very much right now.

“He… just got off his shift.” The man at the counter answers hesitantly.

“Can you tell me where he went?” And what he was wearing?” Taehyung may be sounding a little desperate, but he doesn’t have the time to care.

“He was still in his uniform, so green, and he went that way.” He indicates with a vague wave of the hand.  

Taehyung starts running again, this time looking even more crazed as he scans his surroundings like a mad man, looking for someone tall with broad shoulders wearing green.

He spots him after running for a few minutes, thanking the heavens that the employee sent him in the right direction. He had every reason not to.

“Kim Seokjin!” He calls out, picking up his pace despite his lungs begging for a break. “Wait!”

He sees the man stop, take one look at him over his admittedly very large shoulders, then start sprinting away from him.

“No! Wait up!” He pushes himself harder than he ever has, his legs and lungs burning under the continuous strain, head feeling a little faint. “Please!” He calls out again in desperation. “Please look at my penis!”

This catches Seokjin’s attention, and he thankfully stops running, turning around as if to wait for him. Taehyung slows down to a jog, then to a complete stop, bending over gasping for air. Once his breathing is finally somewhat back to normal, he straightens up, only to come face to face with a bottle of pepper spray.

“W-wait!” He stutters, falling on his ass. “I swear I’m not a creep!”

“That’s exactly what a creep would say.” Seokjin answers, hovering over him threateningly, aiming the pepper spray directly at Taehyung’s face.

“I swear I just need you to look at my penis.”

This was the wrong thing to say apparently, because Seokjin gives the bottle a good shake as if to activate it. “That doesn’t sound as reassuring as you seem to think.”

“No! Wait!” He pleads again. “Not my penis.” He takes off his backpack, frantically digging through it until he finally pulls out his sculpture.  “ This penis.”

Seokjin doesn’t look totally convinced, but he finally lowers his weapon. “That’s a beautiful cock.” He admits after a moment of staring in silence. 

“Thank you. Is it yours?” 

"I don't remember owning that sculpture."

"Not the sculpture; the Penis."

Seokjin frowns, extending his hand, and Taehyung gingerly deposits his precious sculpture into his palm. The man finally puts away his pepper spray to free both his hands. He examines the penis under every angle, trying out the hold, measuring the testicles with his palm, staring at it long and hard.

Taehyung takes the opportunity to stand back up, keeping his distance this time.

“It does look very similar,” he concludes, hands going to his chin. “But this is not my penis. I don’t have a mole there.”

Taehyung deflates. He still asks, just in case. “So we haven’t slept together?”

Seokjin gives him back his sculpture with a snort. “You don’t look like anything I've ever slept with.” 

Taehyung realizes the state he’s in. He must look ridiculous right now.

“I’m from the sculpting department. I didn’t have the time to clean up. I don’t usually go around looking like I just rolled in the mud.”

“Explains a lot.” Seokjin nods, looking him up and down.

He dusts himself off as best as he can, but he can’t do much more cleaning up than that. He’ll probably have to go back home looking like that.

“So what’s your name?”

Taehyung feels dumb, he didn’t even have the decency to introduce himself before pulling out his penis. His social skills are frankly lacking.

“I’m Kim Taehyung. Sorry about all that, someone told me you could have the original version of this sculpture.”

“I’m flattered. It is pretty similar. Can I ask why you’re going around asking people to look at your– At this penis?” 

Taehyung sighs deeply, looking down at the penis in his hand. He did it once, he can do it again.

“Long story short I had an amazing one-night stand with the owner of this beautiful creature, but I have no idea who he is and the only clue I have is my perfect memory of his penis.”

“Sounds like a proper modern-day Cinderella story. But how come you don’t remember his face?” Seokjin questions, a hint of worry in his voice that would make sense in any other situation than Taehyung’s.

“I…. have face blindness, it’s this whole-”

“Ah, Yes, Prosopagnosia, I heard about that in class.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, so this is my only way of finding him.”

“So the Penis Flyers-”

“Yeah, that was also me. Forgot to write down my info, got caught by my teacher, that was a whole mess.” Taehyung admits, feeling discouraged.

“So now you’re basically going around town asking every man to try on the metaphorical glass shoes.”

“Basically.”

“Maybe don’t start off with ‘please look at my penis’ next time?” Seokjin recommends, which makes sense.

“I’ve been told that asking if we’ve slept together first thing is making me sound sleazy.”

“Yeah well, asking people to look at your penis isn’t better.”

“I’ll take good note of that.”

+

He drags his feet all the way back home.

He sees, pushed in the corner of his room, the material he got to make a mold, and wonders if now is the time to give up.

His exhibition is coming up, this whole thing made him late on his projects, and now he’s certain he’ll never reunite with Mystery Man. Maybe Mystery Man just doesn’t want to be found. Maybe he’s seen all his attempts and has simply steered clear, avoiding him all along. Maybe it’s time for Taehyung to make himself a silicon version and move on. He’s exhausted all his options, he’s out of time, and out of ideas.

He’s reading through the molding instruction, glad that this should be easy since he’s using a sculpture and not an actual living and breathing dick, when he realizes he hasn’t exhausted all his options. There’s still hope.

He jumps in the shower, picks out an outfit befitting of his destination, and goes off with hope in his heart.

+

The Bar isn't too busy, this being the middle of a school week, but there’s still some people going about, sharing drinks and being loud, in total denial of the oncoming train that is the end of a semester

Taehyung spots the barman, beeline for him. 

“Hey, do you know who usually works on Sundays?”

“That would be me.” Mr.Barman says, convincing Taehyung he finally has luck on his side.

Mr.Barman is on the tall side, with nice tattooed arms and wavy over-bleached hair tucked behind his ears. He’s making his forearm bulge seductively by polishing some beer glasses, and if Taehyung wasn’t on a mission to find his possible Mr.Perfect, he would be actively trying to get into his pants. 

“Do you, by any chance, recognize me?”

Mr.Barman doesn’t miss a beat.

“You’re a regular. And you gave me a blowjob once. Why are you asking?”

Well, Taehyung might have many flaws but at least he’s consistent.

“I was wondering if you remembered seeing me a few weeks ago– I was with a dude, about this height, with this body,” he adds, pulling out the sketch. He looks a little crazed, once again. But it’s ok, he’s reaching for straws here. “He had dark hair, but that’s all I can tell you. See, I have face-”

“-Blindness, I know, you cry about it every time you get drunk.”

Hm. And Taehyung thought he was a character full of mystery.

“I do know who you’re talking about. He’s a regular too.”

The irritation Taehyung feels is only momentary, everything melting away with this new bit of information. Someone saw them, someone knows what his Mystery Man looks like. He didn't hallucinate the whole thing. 

“Do you know his name??” He asks, pleading with his eyes. His heart is thumping wildly in his chest, desperation tangible.

“No. And he hasn’t been here since that night.” He says, crushing every hope and dream Taehyung mustered up in the last five seconds. He pauses his polishing, head tilting to the side. “But I do remember his face. I can try and draw him if you want.”

10 minutes later, Taehyung is looking at his disability in the face.

“Wow, you did it. You perfectly illustrated how people with face blindness see others.” Taehyung says, looking down at the drawing Jungkook (he asked for his name) quickly scribbled on a piece of napkin. It looks exactly like how he sees others.

Jungkook being good-natured, only laugh it off. “I can’t do much here, I’m working. But if you give me your number, I can try and do a better sketch once I get home. I’m from the painting department.”

“You would do that for me?” Taehyung asks, feeling deeply moved by Jungkook’s kindness. 

“Sure, it’s good practice for my portrait class anyways. You can take this as a thank you for the blow job.”

Taehyung nods to himself. 

“I do give amazing blowjobs.”

+

Jungkook, like any good art student, does not appreciate being rushed.

After a whole week of being told “it’s not ready yet”, Taehyung stops asking. 

He also wakes up one morning and realizes he only has a few days left before his exhibition.

Not only is he not done with all his pieces, he still hasn’t started studying for his finales which happen to be the week before his exhibition, meaning, the next day.

He pushes aside any thought of Mystery Man (except when he hugs the sculpture at night, heart yearning for the original), and jumps straight into his cramming strategy, which consists of hitting himself with the books until he’s absorbed the material. If he’s not studying, taking a finale, or sleeping, he’s huddled in the workshop with the other students of his department, functioning on coffee and eating various shades of sculpting material for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. This is not what Taehyung expected when he was told that artists live from their arts.

The day before his exhibition, he’s barely feeling human, he’s got dried clay in places clay should never find itself, he doesn’t know words anymore and he has basically forgotten his own name.

No matter how fast he works, he realizes he won’t be able to finish his last pieces in time. He’s wracking his brain for a solution, thinking long and hard about just what he could do, when it hits him. 

The solution is right underneath his nose; 

His penis. It was always his penis. 

He’s supposed to expose pieces that he finds impactful, and if there’s anything that had a big impact on his life in the last few weeks, it’s his sculpture.

He can’t tell his teacher, he’ll categorically refuse. Not after the stunt he pulled with the flyers. Plus he wouldn't understand the cultural reset it was for Taehyung, finding and crafting that beautiful creature.

So he sets to work in secret. It shouldn’t be too hard, he hasn’t printed his labels yet. Plus the students are in charge of installing their own corner, meaning he can wait until the very last moment before the opening to put his penis on display.

He needs to find a name for his sculpture, so he texts his friends for help, but as usual, they are unhelpful.

 Asshole with pink hair:

6:45 pm  ‘ Suck on that’

 Hyungie:

6:45 pm    why are you asking me idk

 Jung Hoseok 🌞 :

6:50 pm   “ Long lost lover”

 He’s glad to see that his new friend will fit right in once he introduces him to everyone. 

He isn’t satisfied with the answer he gets, so he sends more text.

 Kim Seokjin:

7:05 pm  “Is this your penis?”

7:06 pm   Or better yet, “HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PENIS?”

7:06 pm   that way people will understand how current your art is

7:10 pm   Also I didn’t give you this number to chitchat

7:10 pm   after we find out his identity im cutting all ties with you

7:11 pm   Im just feeling invested right now

7:11 pm   that’s all

7:17 pm   Where’s your exhibition again?

Jeon Jungkook barman and artist:

9:56 pm  idk

9:56 pm  im almost done with the portrait btw

9:56 pm  you mind if I use it for my exhibition

9:56 pm  im really proud of it

 So not much more help on that side either.

+

The next day, Taehyung is busy setting up his corner and feeling emotional over his last exhibition.

He’s done with uni. He can go off into the world and live from his art. Or more like, he’ll first find a side job that’ll suck the life out of him, to pay for his art. Then he’ll spend a few years regretting every decision that led him to be an artist, but just as he’s about to give up, his sculptures will be noticed by a mysterious millionaire that’ll commission him thousands of dollars at first. He’ll refer him to his rich friend who will be all over his art and will throw their money at him.

Yeah, it’s a nice pipe dream.

He makes sure all the labels are in place, the lights are hitting his pieces in all the right way, and that no one notices him putting his penis in the middle of his space 30 seconds before they open the doors.

By the time his teacher notices, it’s already too late; the place flooded with friends, family, and even the occasional art critics that the university invited.

It’s not like his penis feels out of place in his setup. Most of his pieces are on the theme of the human body; studies of movement, skin texture, whatnot. If you look at it as a whole, you almost have a whole body. The only thing missing is a face, which is extremely fitting for Taehyung.

The wave of people coming is not preferable for Taehyung, since he doesn’t like crowded places. He’s never been a fan of their exhibition opening nights over the years. He keeps himself busy by trying his best to merge with the wall while people circle his pieces. His friends know he won’t be able to recognize them in the crowd, so they’ll come to him by themselves, he simply has to make himself visible.

“Hey babe,” Jimin says with mirth in his voice, “Is that greek?”

“Yeah” Taehyung answers, fixing his eyes on his most beloved and central piece. 

“I didn’t know you knew greek”

“I don’t, but Google does.”

The Penis is standing directly underneath his own spotlight, looking like a beacon of light, grabbing the envious stares of the people around it.

There’s a little white label by its base:

   Kim Taehyung

πέος, 2021

Red Clay  

(if you recognize this penis, please ask for the artist)

  “ What does it mean?”

“ Penis ”

Jimin hums, crossing his arm over his chest. “I guess I was not expecting anything less.”

Yoongi chooses that moment to appear, whistling his praise.

“So you did work this semester.” He jokes, bobbing his head with approval.

“Har, har.” Like he’s one to talk. He basically spent the last few months becoming one with his bed.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he expects it to be Hoseok or Seokjin telling him they’re here, but instead it’s from Jungkook, and it’s a picture.

A little gasp of surprise escapes him.

His hands shake as he opens up the text app, his heart thumping as the picture loads. He presses on it once it’s ready, taking up the full screen, and Taehyung can finally-... well, Taehyung can’t do anything with that. His case of face blindness is pretty severe, so even drawings are unrecognizable for him. But it’s something! A new clue! He can make a flyer out of this! He can-

“Why do you have a portrait of Namjoon on your phone?”

Time stops.

Yoongi’s voice echoes in his head, mocking him, but also stealing the carpet right from underneath his feet.

Why do you have a portrait of Namjoon on your phone?

A portrait of Namjoon

Namjoon

Namjoon, who stood in front of him silently, that day Yoongi invited him out, probably expecting some kind of reaction from Taehyung.

Namjoon who frequents the campus gym.

Namjoon, who’s tall and broad-shouldered.

Namjoon, who’s been around Taehyung for a while but was never told about his condition. 

Namjoon, who probably thinks Taheyung has been ignoring him all this time.

“Jesus fucking christ, My Mystery Man Is Kim Namjoon.”

Both his friends voice their confusion as Taehyung tries to rip his hair from his head.

“This penis belongs to Kim Namjoon, who doesn’t know I have face blindness, and who probably think I’ve been ignoring him all this fucking time.”

“Holy shit,” Yoongi says at the same time as Park Jimin, that prick, starts cackling uncontrollably. Taehyung always knew he was evil.

“This is- I’m so sorry but- This shouldn't be funny– But I can’t, it’s too funny.” He wheezes out in between laughter. “He was right there, probably confused as hell as to why you were showing his dick to everyone- I’m sorry this is so funny but also so, so sad. You never- oh my god.”

Under the attention of about half the gallery, he wipes the tears from his eyes, body convulsing with laughter.

“What the fuck are you waiting for.” He finally manages to say, taking a deep breath. “Hyung, didn’t you drag him here tonight?”

That seems to snap Yoongi out of his stupor.

“Fuck, yes he’s here, he’s... There!-” He says pointing somewhere, but then his voice dies down. “And now he’s leaving...”

Taehyung spots the man with a black cap currently walking out the exit with an angry stride. He reacts on instinct, running after his Not So Mysterious Man Anymore.

+

Kim Namjoon is having a very no good, very bad day. 

Not because of school, no. He aced all his finales, he doesn’t even need to get his grades back to know.

Not because of the weather either. No, it’s a beautiful spring day, and there’s a hint of cherry blossom in the air, wrapping the world in a romantic tint.

No, the reason he’s having a very no good very bad day, is because he can’t, for the love of God, get Kim Taehyung out of his head. 

It started with a very interesting dream, clearly drawing inspiration from the night they spent together. It woke him up at the crack of dawn, sweating up bullets and hard as a rock. Finding sleep afterward was nearly impossible, meaning his first precious day of vacation started way too fucking early.

Now music theory never sleeps, so he simply spent his morning trying to forget his dream, channeling all his energy on composing. 

But then Min Yoongi, long-time friend and co-compositor, had to go and ruin his fragile peace of mind by reminding him he had two tickets for the sculpting department exhibition, and Namjoon was obligated to show up. Meaning he would inevitably run into Kim Taehyung; Meaning he would agonize about him all day; Meaning , that he would be thinking about Kim Fucking Taehyung all day.

But it’s ok, because he was finally starting to come to terms with that too. Taehyung would probably ignore him again, and all he needed to do was circle the gallery once and get the fuck out.

But no.

Oh no.

Life had better plans.

Because right into the center of Taehyung's exhibition space, is his very own penis, standing proudly, mocking him.

He can recognize it from the flyers, so he knows instantly that it’s Taehyung’s work. 

He’s stunned by the audacity, wondering once again what he did to draw Taehyung’s ire upon himself. The flyers were not enough, no he had to go and put it on display as his final fuck you to Namjoon. Even wrote 'penis' in greek as a title, confirming Namjoon's theory that this is all a ploy to make fun of him.

Namjoon has had enough, he’s getting the fuck out of there. 

He spins on his heel at the speed of light, taking advantage of every inch of his long legs to walk out as fast as possible. He ignores the call of his name that follows after him, readjusting the cap on his head.

He’s fuming, feeling tears of frustration building up. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s been nothing but respectful of Taehyung. He’s been staying away from him too. 

He doesn’t deserve this.

He makes it a few blocks before his phone starts going off every 5 seconds with incoming texts, forcing him to finally look at it.

 Yoongi Hyung:

6:14 pm   Before anything, know that Taehyung suffers from severe face blindness.

6:14 pm   I know you know what that means you wikipedia rat

6:15 pm   I didn’t tell you cause it’s none of my business who he chooses to tell

6:15 pm   But the dumbass has been trying to find you for weeks using your dick because he had no other way to identify you

6:15 pm   Your pinning hasn't been exactly subtle either

6:16 pm    he ran after you when you left but I bet he’s pleading with the wrong person in the street right now

6:17 pm   Nice dick by the way

 He rereads the series of text to try and make sense of them. Only after the third read, does he finally understand.

Well, shit.

+

“Please Namjoon listen to me, you have to listen to me, I didn't mean to ignore you, I just didn't know it was you!-” Taehyung pleads, holding on to his sleeve.

“Can you please let go of me?!”

His voice sounds a little older than what Taehyung remembers, but he doesn’t have the time to think too much about that. Maybe he’s got a cold or something.

“-I can explain everything if you can just give me two minutes-”

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not this kind of person.”

Taehyung isn’t deterred, holding on to him desperately “-Please I swear just two- no, one minute, even one minute is enough-”

Someone clears their throat, tapping him softly on the shoulder. 

“Sorry sir, I believe my friend here is mistaking you for me.”

Now that’s a familiar voice. A voice he recognizes from many occasions. 

Taehyung lets go of his poor unsuspecting victim, taking a step back which is all it takes for them to run away from him.

He finally comes face to face with the source of all his past weeks' torment.

The height is there, the shoulders are there, the body proportions are there, the hair color is completely different, but Jimin did mention he changed it recently. He’s got the black cap on, the one that made Taehyung mistake a perfect stranger on the street for him.

It’s him. He found him. It’s his Mystery Man, his cinderella. He’s got him.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes, that’s me.” He confirms, voice gentle.

“Kim Namjoon.” He repeats, trying the name out on his tongue. His body is filling up with butterflies, and he can’t feel his toes.

“And here I thought you just could never remember my name.”

“I can explain–” He rushes, eager to get rid of the misunderstanding.

“It’s ok, Yoongi told me.”

“And about your penis–”

“Yes, Yoongi told me about that too.” Namjoon cuts him off, the tip of his ears getting pink.

“I’m so sorry– I should have asked your name then. I mean– you made me come four times .”

Namjoon chuckles, catching one of Taehyung’s hands mid flail and holding it with both of his, making his heart jump.

“We’ve basically known each other for years, so maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t. I don’t think I would have appreciated it then.”

“I guess that’s true. I’m still sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, I could have come up to you first. I mean, I’m the one who sneaked out in the morning. I had an 8 am class, by the way. I didn’t leave because I wanted to. But you have my number so… I assumed you would call me. ”

“I have your number...?” It's pretty vague, but it does ring a bell. He's got a blurry memory of time, around their first meeting, when Namjoon and he had exchanged their numbers for Yoongi related reasons. “That’s right, I do have your number. Fuck.”

“Well, I know now this wouldn’t have changed anything for you, since you simply didn't know it was me you were with.” Namjoon snorts, but not unkindly. More at the situation. 

But Taehyung still feels terrible.

“I’m so sorry.” He whines, feeling like burying his face in Namjoon’s chest. But they’re not there yet. “I tend to keep people at a distance to avoid misunderstandings.”

“It’s ok, I get it now. I guess I wish I knew before, but I get it now.”

“Good. I should have told you sooner. I was actually planning on doing it soon if that’s any consolation.”

“It is.” Namjoon murmurs, inching closer to him.

“Cool, cool cool.” Taehyung blurts out nervously.

This is it. This is his chance. Everything that has transpired in the last few weeks is leading up to this moment. 

"So," Namjoon starts when Taehyung has been silent for too long. "Yoongi said you were looking for me... Any particular reasons?"

"Well, yes." He answers but stops. All of this means nothing. It doesn't mean that Namjoon will accept to go out with him. He has no idea how Namjoon feels about him, and he sure as hell cannot tell by his facial expression. He's going in blind, no reason to believe that Namjoon wants to have to do anything with him. For all he knows, Namjoon is only here to settle the misunderstanding, and then be on his way. Maybe he's even mad about the penis flyers.

But then he also remembers that Namjoon is holding his hand right now. It's now or never.

He takes a deep breath for bravery and goes for it.

“Kim Namjoon, can I please take you out on a date?”

Namjoon doesn’t let him second guess himself, word leaving his mouth as fast as a blink.

“Absolutely.”

Apparently, they’ve gathered a crowd because there’s cheerful hooting and shouting erupting around them. But Taehyung pays them no mind as he goes in for a hug, Namjoon meeting him halfway.

“Wait, wait,” Namjoon says, suddenly, taking a step back. “I still don’t know why you put my penis on display at the center of your exhibition.”

Taehyung chuckles, bringing Namjoon back in. 

“Simple, ‘cause it’s a masterpiece.”

+

 2 months later

There’s a knock at the door, which throws Taehyung off. He’s getting ready for his date with Namjoon– their actual first date– and is not expecting anyone. Jimin knows the code, so it can’t be him, unless–

“Hello sir, would you be open to receiving the words of our lord and savior, Jesus Christ?”

“Jimin, I swear to god, I can tell it’s you by your voice. And no one from church would dress like you do, slut.”

Moving in with Jimin is as much a blessing as it is a curse. A blessing because, well, they’re best friends. A curse because his best friend’s favorite hobby is to try and prank him. Taehyung almost misses the time where Jimin was treating his face blindness as a taboo. 

Almost.

The last two months have been a whirlwind of life-changing events for Taehyung. 

First, moving in with Jimin is a pretty big deal. Not only has Taehung been living alone for the last three years, living with someone is sometimes a challenge for him. Wondering why a stranger is standing in your kitchen at 3 am, brain slowed down by sleep and the weak lighting not helping, isn’t always a recipe for success. But he’s slowly getting used to it, and Jimin, as much as he can be a prick, is being patient with him.

The second big event is, well, his current job. Somehow his workshop teacher, even after everything, recommended him for a job at a sculpture academy. He now teaches different types of sculpting medium to children, four nights a week. Pretty sweet gig.

At first, he was going crazy out of his mind worrying about working with children, but four weeks in and he’s feeling confident. He sat down with the kids the first week to explain to them what face blindness is, and although the children were initially confused, they now enjoy switching names with each other for the duration of his classes, to mess with his head.

Jokes on them, Taehyung also called their parents during that first week. So far, none of the children have noticed that their parents have been making them wear certain accessories every time they leave for the academy. Checkmates.

And the last big event, of course, is Namjoon. 

In between moving, his new job, and Namjoon’s own busy schedule, they have yet to go on an actual full-blown date. But they’ve slowly been getting to know each other. They make time to go on quick coffee dates sometimes, and they text none-stop. Namjoon hasn’t seen his new place yet, but they’ve hung out at Namjoon’s plenty of time. 

His boyfriend (he gets giddy thinking about that word) also showed up at the academy a few times to walk him back home (The first time he kept it as a surprise, but he quickly realized Taehyung didn’t like surprises; especially when it means having a tall stranger approach him in the dark without saying anything. Now he texts beforehand.)

“Do you like this outfit? Or should I go with my floral button-up?” He asks Jimin, who’s lounging on his bed after his failed prank attempt. 

“Why are you so stressed? It’s not like it's the first time you two see each other.”

“Because the chances of me getting laid tonight are extremely high and I want to look good.”

“Oh?” Jimin perks up, knowing full well Taehyung and Namjoon have been taking their time to get to know each other. “Should I sleepover at Hobi’s tonight?”

Another new development from the last two months: Jimin and Hoseok’s instant attraction. They’ve been dancing around each other since the exhibition, but it looks like it’s finally getting ‘ sleeping-over-at-each-others-place ’ serious.

“...Good idea,” Taehyung answers, not because he wants the house to himself (though it’s a nice perk), but he likes giving a little push to love sometimes.

His friend circle can finally be called a circle now. Somehow, Hoseok, Seokjin, and Namjoon just naturally fit into his now actually social, social life. Namjoon was the easiest since he already knew Yoongi and Jimin. Hoseok got it easy by becoming Jimin’s more-than-friend, and Seokjin just showed up one day with a video of that time, outside the gallery, when Taehyung thought an older gentleman was Namjoon because of his black cap. 

He looks at the time, curses when he realizes he’s going to be late. He grabs his wallet and puts on his shoes in a rush, and makes it out the door accompanied by Jimin shouting “Don’t you dare fuck on the couch or you’re buying a new one!”

He makes it to the Bar with only a few minutes to spare, and as luck would have it, Jungkook is working. He’s come to recognize his tattooed arm and bleached locks instantly. 

Namjoon would have texted him if he was there, which means he’s cutting it close as well, so he sends a quick ‘here 💖’ text before sitting down at the Bar with a big smile.

“You make me want to puke,” Jungkook says, disgust dripping from his words. 

“Hey now don’t be jealous, I’m sure you’ll find yourself a monster cock as well one day.”

Somehow, he and Jungkook started texting on a semi-regular basis. It’s mostly Jungkook begging Taehyung to introduce him to Seokjin (apparently he’s been crushing on the man since he first saw him at the coffee shop), which Taehyung has to find excuses every time to avoid telling Jungkook the cold, harsh truth.

(“I don’t date men with bleached hair, it ruins my whole aesthetic.” Jin said after the first time Taehyung asked. Which aesthetic he’s talking about, Taehyung has no idea.)

But that also means that Jungkook has heard all about his very fascinating and blooming love story with Namjoon.

“Did you tell Seokjin I said hi?”

“Dude, just go and ask him out. You know where he works, you know where he studies, you even know his birthday, which is really creepy when you two have never talked by the way. Just, go ask him out, he won’t be able to resist you once he actually sees how attractive you are.” He pauses for a second, then adds for safety measure, “But if he reaches in his pocket, just run the other way.”

“What?” 

“Don’t ask, just trust me.” Taehyung has some unpleasant flashbacks of a bottle of pepper spray being waved in front of his face. He shakes his head to try and get rid of the memory.

“And how would you even know that I’m attractive, you don’t actually know what I look like.” Jungkook retorts.

“Shut up, just go and ask him.”

“Just go and ask him what?” A familiar voice asks from behind him, and Taehyung's smile is back full force. He rotates on his chair and jumps into Namjoon’s arms, hearing him groan under the strain of his weight. He can hear Jungkook fake gagging behind him, the actual child.

They share a quick kiss before they both sit down at the bar.

“You’re not seriously thinking about having your date here, are you?”

Taehyung snorts, tempted to mess with Jungkook, but Namjoon is the one to answer.

“No we just wanted to get the evening started with a nice drink, but we have a reservation to an actual fancy restaurant, paid graciously by Taehyung's actual serious adult job.”

“Is it a serious adult job if he had to stop a kid from eating his donut-shaped clay yesterday?”

“Shut up. If you keep being like that I’m going to order the most annoying thing on the menu.”

Jungkook scoffs and walks away, without actually taking their orders.

They both watch him do a big show of ignoring them, answering other customers without turning in their direction.

“Let’s just get out of here.” Namjoon whispers in his ear. “We can go waste time walking around aimlessly, hand in hand.”

“God, you’re so cheesy,” Taehyung mutters, but he actually loves it.

His dating experience before Namjoon amounts to an enormous zero, but it’s not because he’s one of those unattainable, i-don’t-believe-in-love types of people that live rent-free in Hollywood movies. He simply never thought it would be possible to get close to someone romantically with his condition. But since officially meeting Namjoon, he’s been researching, and turns out, he totally can. 

There are even people, artists like him, who've noticed that repeatedly drawing or painting their loved one has made them actually able to remember their face (not 100% of the time, but he’ll take what he can get.). So he’s been sketching, using pictures, trying out different angles. He’s planning on using clay at one point. He’s totally the girl from Lionel Richie’s music video. Which makes Namjoon Lionel Richie.

“Did you know that I was inspired by Lionel Richie’s music video to sculpt your penis?”

Namjoon chuckles under his breath, squeezing Taehyung’s hand just a little bit more. The hot summer air is making their palms sweaty, but they both don’t care. 

“Where is that thing, by the way? It’s been a while since I’ve last seen it.”

“I put it on my bedside table when I moved in and I haven't moved it since. I’m thinking about making it into a lamp. I have to keep it out of reach of Jimin and Hoseok, they both seem a little too interested.”

Namjoon grimaces. Or Taehyung is assuming that’s his grimacing face. 

“Please never let it fall into their hands.”

“I swear on my honor, I shall protect your penis.”

“Thank you, I feel better now. I still can’t believe they put it on the first page of ‘Sculpting Now’. Crazy how all of your friends and the sculpting world know what my dick looks like.

“It’s a masterpiece. If it was mine I would never keep it in my pants, I’d always want to show it off.”

“How are you not in prison right now?”

“I don’t have your dick in my pants, sadly. Did you know that Seokjin almost pepper-sprayed me the first time we met? In retrospect, having a stranger run after you, pleading for you to look at their dick is a good excuse to pull out your pepper spray.”

“Wait, you did what?”

“It was all in the name of love.”

Namjoon shakes his head, probably disappointed in him.

+

Namjoon is utterly enamored. Every time Taehyung recalls a story from when he ran around school trying to find him, he falls a little bit more in love. 

He was so nervous for their first romantic date that he couldn’t eat during the day, but Taehyung is making him feel at ease, as he usually does, so hunger is coming back with a vengeance.

“Should we go to the restaurant now?” He asks, pulling Taehyung along with him. "It's almost time."

“Let’s.” Taehyung agrees readily, “I’m ravenous.”

They quickly make their way to the restaurant, only to find its door closed. There’s a sign in the window reading “Closed for vermin infestation”.

“Oh.” Namjoon says, “Dammit. That’s not good.”

There’s this awkward silence, filled with growling sounds from both their bellies. It’s too late to make reservations anywhere nice, and anywhere else risks being too loud for a romantic Rendez-Vous. Namjoon is scrambling his brain for a solution when Taehyung’s shy voice interrupts.

“Hum, if you want to– Jimin told me he wouldn't be home tonight, so… You want to come over? We can pick up some ramen on the way.”

Taehyung’s face might be neutral, but the blush growing on his cheeks is anything but. Namjoon takes a moment to appreciate the sight that he makes, burning up in embarrassment. Without the blushing, Namjoon would have believed he’s only inviting him for ramen, but the angry red of his cheeks is definitely betraying Taehyung’s intentions.

He nods his agreement, feeling anticipation replace hunger in the pit of his stomach.

+

 Having Namjoon in his space is a new experience. 

The apartment is still messy from their move, boxes lying around, but they’ve managed to make it quite homey. Everything that is necessary to their everyday life has been unboxed, only the odd objects being ignored by Jimin and him.

He puts on some soft music to set a nice mood, and Namjoon is humming along straight away, which is all the approval he needs to feel confident about his music selection. Music Theory graduate approved. 

 He gets to work on the ramen while he directs Namjoon on where to find a cheap bottle of wine and some wine glasses. He sets the table, trying to make it as nice as possible, but it’s really just a pot of bubbling ramen and two bowls with some chopsticks. 

They eat in comfortable silence, the music playing in the background mixing with the sound of their eating.

But then Namjoon dumps the content of his wine glass on his tan-colored pants, and it’s downhill from there.

“Damn it!” He curses, jumping to his feet. He grabs some napkins to try and pat some wine off, but it’s already been absorbed by his fancy suit pants. 

“Quick, take them off,” Taehyung says, not thinking too hard and only reacting to the situation at hand. “Let’s rinse them in the sink.” 

Namjoon complies, taking them off in record time, passing them on to Taehyung like it’s a relay race.

Taehyung deposits them straight in the sink, opening the tap and letting the water hopefully get rid of most of the stain. They both stand there for a minute, staring at the water filling up. 

But then it hits Taehyung that Namjoon’s thighs are currently bare and in his vicinity. He sneaks a quick peek to satisfy his horny brain, but he’s quick to snap his eyes back to the sink to avoid doing anything stupid.

Like, let’s say , dropping to his knees. 

He can feel himself blushing, his cheeks, ears, and neck feeling hot. He knew exactly what he was doing, inviting Namjoon for some ramen, but now that he can act on it, he’s suddenly feeling very shy. 

Plus, not being able to read facial expressions never really impaired his ability to get laid. He used to just– go to the bar, wait until someone would offer him to get out of there, and go for it. 

But this is not a bar, and Namjoon won’t ask him if he wants to get out of there. He has no idea how to tell if Namjoon wants to jump into bed with him. Or not. 

He takes matters into his own hands.

“So, as you know,” He starts, staring intently at the water flowing out of the tap, “this whole face blindness thing– I can’t really read your facial expressions. So in the future, it’ll be hard for me to figure out if you’re angry or happy, or sad, or… or horny. I’ve never done this whole– Romantic relationship thing, but I’m guessing we’re going to have to be really vocal with how we’re feeling, what we want, whatnot.”

He lets his statements hang in the air, staring at the stain that doesn’t seem to want to go away. He’s thinking maybe this will have to be removed professionally. 

But then, Namjoon chooses that moment to drop a soft kiss on his nape.

“Are you asking me, right now, if I want you?” 

Taehyung turns around, letting himself be cornered against the counter. Namjoon has his nicely defined biceps, somehow peeking through his suit vest, on each side of him. He absolutely loves it.

“Yes. I am.”

Namjoon kisses his neck once again, and Taehyung is this close to losing it. 

“I absolutely want you.” His boyfriend finally answers, landing a heavy kiss on his lips, sucking all the air out of Taehyung’s lungs.

 After turning Taehyung’s inside to mush via lips on lips crime, he returns to his assault on Taehyung’s neck, peppering the skin he can reach with sweet kisses, each one sending electricity straight to his groin. 

“Do you want me?” Namjoon questions softly into his ear, making Taehyung's eyes roll back so far he’s scared they’ll never come back. 

“Fuck yes.” He grinds out, voice turning to a whine when Namjoon, emboldened by Taehyung’s enthusiasm, rocks his pelvis into his in a languid motion.

He sees white then, bringing Namjoon’s mouth back to his, smashing their mouths together in a wet and messy kiss.

“How important are your pants?” He inquires in between kisses, enjoying the slow grinding Namjoon has going on. He’s still in his suit pants, but Namjoon only has the thin cotton of his boxer brief as a barrier. Taehyung can clearly feel his monster cock waking up from its slumber. 

“Not very important.” He finally answers, hands letting go of the counter to firmly grab at Taehyung’s ass. 

Taehyung can proudly say he’s got a fat ass, and Namjoon seems to appreciate it if the growl that escapes him is anything to go by.

He gets to work on the buttons of Namjoon’s dress shirt, Namjoon getting the message and taking his vest off by himself. Soon he’s standing there in only his boxer briefs and socks, while Taehyung is still fully dressed.

It’s kind of hot. 

They slow it down a little, Taehyung pushing Namjoon away so he can take a good look at him. 

The light of the kitchen falls almost gracefully over Namjoon’s defined chest, creating shadows that chisel out his muscles even more. It’s a sight to behold. 

He drags his hands down Namjoon's body, teasing a nipple as he goes with a flick of the thumb, mapping out his taut stomach with the tip of his finger, then coming back up to hold onto his strong shoulders.

“You know, I’m like, really good at massages. I feel like this is something you should know.”

Seems like this is all the time Namjoon will allow him away from him. He reels him back in with an arm around his waist, the other taking hold of one of Taehyung’s hands and bringing it to his mouth. He nips at his fingers, maintaining eye contact while he uses his tongue to soothe the sting.

How he’s even real is beyond Taehyung.

“Do you need help undressing?” Namjoon teases, reaching for his belt.

“Let me close the tap and we can move this to my room.” 

Namjoon doesn’t give him a response, only cages him once again against the counter, plastering the full length of his warm body to his. He reaches behind Taehyung and moments later, the soft ambiance music is the only thing they can hear again. 

Taehyung leads him to his bedroom, taking off his vest as they go. Somehow Namjoon already got his belt buckle, so he unceremoniously drops his pants to the floor, then jumps on his bed.

“Welcome to my room. That’s my desk, that’s my bedside table, that’s a replica of your penis, but I heard the original is planning on making an appearance tonight. This is my bed. Hope you enjoyed the tour.” He finally gets to the final button, looking up eagerly as he sends his shirt off to the side, wondering what’s taking Namjoon so long to get on the goddamn bed.

He finds his lover completely captivated by his penis duplicate.

“You’ve got the same one in your pants, you know. Get you your ass over here.” 

“Sorry I was just thinking… it’s crazy how similar you made it only from your memory.”

“Excuse me?” Taehyung objects, crossing his arms over his chest. “They’re not just similar, they’re identical.” 

“Only one way to check, is there?” Namjoon taunts, before finally, finally getting rid of his briefs, releasing the Kraken. 

Except he also grabs hold of the sculpture, bringing it close so he can do a side-by-side comparison. 

“You’re right, it is identical. How did you even manage that?” He says, awe in his voice. “Have you ever used it on yours–” 

Namjoon loses his train of thought as he takes in the sight of Taehyung, laying in bed completely naked, pumping himself at a leisurely pace and looking very unimpressed. 

“No, I haven’t. But if you don’t get into bed in the next 5 seconds I just might consider it.”

Namjoon doesn’t have to be told twice.

[juniorgman187]

The Bones (Reid Series) Part 2

Summary: After doing an even deeper dive on Valerie’s past, Spencer finally meets her, but his invasiveness isn’t the worst part ... the worst part is he might actually like her. 

Playlist: “The Bones” by Maren Morris & Hozier  (BONUS: song includes major foreshadowing) Category: Series, Fluff, Soft Angst, Eventual smut and *NSFW content Pairing: Spencer Reid POV x Fem!OC - Valerie Content Warning: invasion of privacy, allusions to Maeve’s death, arrhythmia Word Count: 3.4k

Part 1 |

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

After firmly deciding not to weave Penelope into my tangled web, I was met with the arduous burden of conducting my own research. 

Firstly, I would need a computer - yeah ... a computer. That’s how far I was willing to go for this pursuit. I once vowed never to fall victim to modern technology’s clutches, and yet here I was, doing my research on a public library’s computer. To my credit, I hadn’t gone out and bought one, I was merely using my resources.

With the need for a device out of the way, all that was left was the knowledge of what to look for. But that didn’t pose a problem either.

Funny enough, with as many rules and restrictions as there are regarding patient privacy and confidentiality, all it took was matching dates of news stories with hospital records to complete my research. I was fairly certain I was only scratching the surface of information about Valerie as opposed to the sea of things I could’ve uncovered if I asked for Garcia’s help, but there are only so many lines a person can cross in one week. 

This was my limit.

Call me naive, but I was actually quite surprised with just how expansive the internet is. To an almost relentless degree, I would open an article and it would lead me to ten more about the same topic. It was this never ending rabbit hole that seemed to spiral on forever. I kept digging deeper and deeper until I could no longer dig. 

I’d officially hit rock bottom. 

It took me a grand total of just two hours to unearth all the ‘dirt’ I could on a young Valerie Bishop. 

Local 16-year-old Wins Nevada’s Statewide Art Contest! Published by Henderson Press. 

Valerie, just a sophomore in high school at the time, was donning what any experimental teen girl would’ve worn in the early 2000s - bootcut jeans and a sequin blouse over top of a plain camisole. And if I zoomed in close enough, I could spot the evidence of a sparkly blue shadow coating her eyelids. Surprisingly, though, that wasn’t the first thing I noticed. 

It was that smile. That tooth-achingly sweet smile. 

Though I never got the chance to see Maeve truly smile, that’s what I imagined it would look like. 

The photographer must’ve caught her midway through a laugh, at least that’s what the image of her slightly open-mouthed grin told me. Meanwhile, her two tiny hands were clenching her overbearingly large trophy while her artwork stood behind her as the background.

It didn’t take me long to figure out why her painting won. Simply put, there was no need to see anyone else’s art to know that they couldn’t possibly compete with hers. 

Hers was an abstract rendition of what I believe to be a forest of some sort. The detail is what I was most drawn to. It would’ve been unbelievable on its own but the fact that she was 16 when she painted it? That’s what was unbelievable to me. 

If that’s how talented she was at that age, I could only imagine how much more talented she became with time. However, I lost the chance to investigate the current state of her skill before a related article from The Cleveland Gazette about Valerie succeeded this one. 

From Award-Winning Artist to Henderson’s Hero

Read my interview with 17-year-old Valerie Bishop to find out more about her struggle with arrhythmia and how she turned her pain into a project! 

By Kelli Gallagher from the Cleveland Gazette. 

Gallagher: Thank you so much for letting me interview you, Valerie. 

Bishop: Of course! I’m happy to. 

Gallagher: You’ve become somewhat of a hero in Henderson, Nevada, haven’t you?

Bishop: I wouldn’t call myself a hero ... but if everyone else wants to - I’m fine with that. (laughs)

Gallagher: Don’t be so modest! I mean, what you’ve done is so incredible, and you’re only what? Seventeen?

Bishop: Yes, ma’am. I just turned seventeen this past August. 

Gallagher: Wow, I can’t believe how young you are and yet you’ve already accomplished so much. I saw that you won a statewide art contest last year. Tell me more about that. 

Bishop: That’s a funny story actually. My Grandma Sheila was the one who entered me in that contest. I didn’t even know about it until I won it. She’s always surprising me, though. In fact, she’s the one that surprised me with my first ever art supplies, when I was about eight or so. They were these super expensive oil paints, and I knew she couldn’t afford them, so I told her we should return them and get something cheaper, but she said, “Nonsense. When the bones are good the rest don’t matter. A house don’t fall when the bones are good.” That was kind of her saying. 

A house don’t fall when the bones are good. 

The bones. 

Gallagher: I’m interested to know more about your relationship with your grandma. If I’m remembering correctly, she was also diagnosed with arrhythmia a while back too, right?

Bishop: Yes, she was, but that’s never slowed her down. And as for our relationship, my grandma and I have always been close, but arrhythmia, in a weird way, has brought us even closer. She has always been my biggest supporter and the fact that we’re both on this journey together makes her my biggest supporter even more so. 

Gallagher: Absolutely. Now, I also heard that you’ve started a fundraising program to possibly start a gallery and studio in Virginia Beach. If you don’t mind me asking, why Virginia Beach? Is there any special significance? 

Bishop: Actually, that’s where my grandma met my grandpa, and they got married and started a family there, too. So if Grandma Sheila hadn’t been there to meet him, she wouldn’t have had my mom, and that would mean I wouldn’t have been here either. I like to think Virginia Beach is where it all started. In a way, it’s where my bones are. That solid foundation in Virginia gave me everything I have today.

Gallagher: That is just incredible. I’m so glad to see your fundraising project is thriving, but I can’t imagine any of this has been particularly easy for you. You were diagnosed right around the time your senior year was starting right?

Bishop: Yes ma’am. 

Gallagher: So what brought you from Henderson to Cleveland?

Bishop: Well, actually, I didn’t want to move, especially not before I graduated, but Cleveland has the best cardiovascular hospital in the country and my health is far more important than graduating in the same state I grew up in. So when my parents were willing to move me and my sister out here, I saw it as a privilege rather than something to be sad about. 

Gallagher: I am so inspired by you, Valerie.

Bishop: (laughs) Really, why?

Gallagher: Despite everything that’d been thrown at you, you are still so grateful. I hope you never lose that. 

Bishop: I promise you I won’t.

Gallagher: So one last thing before I go, what is one hope you have for your future self?

Bishop: I hope, future self, that your ‘bones’ are still strong.

Gallagher: Beautiful. Thank you so much again for doing this, Valerie. I sincerely hope you reach your goal and you get to open up that gallery and studio in Virginia Beach. 

At the bottom of the article, there was a footnote from Kelli Gallagher. 

Exactly 10 years later, Bishop was able to move to Virginia Beach and open up her gallery and studio. 

By the end of the article, I felt a genuine sense of pride for Valerie, and I know I had virtually no right to know these things about her, but I could still be proud of her for them right?

I would never fully get my answer to this question before I crossed the final boundary. 

After exhausting all that I could gather from the internet without Penelope’s assistance, the only thing left for me to do was actually meet her in person. However, this would prove to be a bigger obstacle that it seemed. I decided to delay the daunting task until the next day. A decision partially influenced by the phrase, ‘sleep on it.’ I prayed I’d gain clarity on what to do when I woke up the next morning, but even with a night’s rest, I was still undecided as I drove to Virginia Beach once more.

To sit in my car that was conveniently parked right in front of the gallery was a poor choice. Because with every passing second, the temptation to walk in grew, but the fear of regret dampened those impulses. The more I thought about it, the more I psyched myself out. Between my two choices, to freeze or to fight, I should’ve taken the third - to flee. But I was here now and I couldn’t leave empty-handed for a second time. 

After a moment’s indecision, adrenaline coursed through my veins to give me the courage to get out of my car. When I felt an outdoor breeze blow over me, I knew there was no going back now. Right when I walked in, the little bell above the door rang, solidifying that I was officially crossing the threshold, and whether I liked it or not, she was going to see me after hearing me walk in.

“I’ll be right with you!” A small voice called out from somewhere in the back. She was hidden from my immediate sight, and somehow that made it so much worse. It was now I that was waiting for her, instead of her unknowingly waiting for me. 

As though I were prey getting ready to escape a predator, I stayed put by the door. It gave me a full view of the entire place anyway. 

Scoping out my surroundings, I spotted the paintings that were carefully measured and placed on the walls, almost to perfection. I had no time to notice anything more before the person in the back walked out. 

Immediately when I saw her, I knew.

“You’re … not Valerie.” I couldn’t help sounding so disappointed but luckily, the woman that came out took no offense to my observation. 

“No, I’m not,” She laughed. “But I can get her for you-”

“No wait!” I uselessly leapt forward to stop her from saying, “Vee! There’s someone out here to see you!” But that’s precisely what she did anyway. Evidently oblivious of my previous protests, she politely smiled back at me. “She’ll be right out.” 

For the second time that day, I waited with bated breath, anxiously anticipating the arrival of Valerie. And I was almost too focused on subduing the pounding of my heart to realize that she was actually walking out of the back right now. 

“Hi, sorry about that!” A new voice chirped. 

Valerie. 

The moment I laid eyes on her, it became clear to me that the pictures in her files hardly did her justice. Nothing could compare to the real sight of her. I was only able to catch the profile of her face when I saw her in the cafe, but in her entirety, I began to wax nostalgic. Though her face and hair and body had transformed into that of a grown woman’s features, I could still identify the same tooth-achingly sweet smile that a younger Valerie once wore on the front page of the Henderson Press. She was no beast to conquer, she was just a girl, smiling at me in that same gentle way. 

Her expression just as well showed no indication of recognition, not that she would recognize me, considering my letter was anonymous and unless she pulled the same stunt I did, she wouldn’t ever recognize who I was. 

“I’m Val,” She made her greeting to me while untying her dirtied waist apron, and it was merely the action that caused my gaze to fall to her hips, but when she shed the apron, I was still staring. There was something sort of mesmerizing about the way they swayed as she approached. It wasn’t until they stopped swaying completely that I realized they did so because there was no more distance to advance - she was already right there in front of me, patiently watching me stare. 

“Val?” I blinked hard to revert my gaze while also playing into the part that I had no idea who she was. 

“Mhm. Short for Valerie,” She confirmed happily. “Like the Amy Winehouse song.” 

This time, I genuinely didn’t know what she was referring to, and my confused countenance prompted her to clarify, “You don’t know that song?” 

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, she began to playfully sing, “Well, sometimes I go out by myself and I look across the water ...” 

While she watched my face and waited for the recitation of the song to jog my memory, I was just as much studying her face. I could tell she was only kidding when she sang, evidenced by the laugh that followed her rendition, but it sounded so unironically good that I had to question what other talents she possessed. 

“Um, I was actually thinking more like Valerie, the martyred medieval saint, whose name stood for strength and health.” No sooner than the words spilled from my mouth did I recognize the freudian slip - the simultaneous coincidence and confession. The coincidence was that, now, with Maeve’s heart beating in her chest, she lived up to her name - she was newly strong and healthy. But I worried, she would see the correlation I drew between her name and her successful transplant and would realize that I knew more about her than I let on. Did I just give away too much?

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name earlier. What was it?” Her casual dismissiveness of my previous statement did nothing to ease my worries. Was she beginning to piece everything together?

“Oh, right!” I said dumbly. “S-Spencer. I’m Spencer.” I was such a blubbering bundle of nerves that I actually reached out to shake her hand - a stranger’s hand. 

“Nice to meet you, Spencer,” She softly laughed, which was hopefully not out of the enjoyment of seeing me squirm. “What can I do for you?” 

A loaded question, don’t you think? What can you do for me, Valerie? Well, for one thing, you could’ve answered my letter, but to say something as bold as that would require me to admit the real reason I was here, and how could I do that without mentioning how I found you in the first place?

“Um ...” Whose birthday is the soonest? “My friend Emily’s birthday is coming up and I was wondering if I could possibly buy a painting from you as a birthday present.” 

There was the faintest perceptible skepticism in her expression, but that could’ve just been my paranoia talking because in the next breath, she didn’t suggest a proclivity to my deceit. “Yeah, of course! Do you know what her favorite medium is? Or her favorite artist? Or her favorite style of art?” 

For every addition to the question, I wordlessly shook my head no. Was my lie already unraveling? Could she see right through me?

“No worries. If you want, you can walk around the gallery and tell me if you see anything you think she’d like.” She made her offer to me sweetly, then disappeared into the back room again. I tried to follow her with my eyes for as long as I could, but from where I was standing, I couldn’t see very far into it. I wandered a little further into the center of the gallery to possibly catch a glimpse of what was occupying her time back there, but when I heard the chattering of two voices, Valerie and the other woman, coming from the same general direction, I realized I was completely alone in this part of the studio.

With no one around to bear witness but these portraits, I could’ve easily slipped out and made my escape, and I might’ve even done it had it not been for the unmistakable gravitational pull forcing me to stay here and walk about the room. 

Making my way throughout the gallery, I would pause every now and then when a painting would stand out to me, which was often, considering each picture was impressive. 

But there was one painting in particular that piqued my interest. It made me feel something I’d never felt before. 

It wasn’t special by any means. By rights, I shouldn’t have even noticed it, for it wasn’t the largest painting, nor the smallest one - it wasn’t even the most average painting. But it felt exceptionally ... Valerie. I had no doubt in my mind that she painted this one - in fact, I had a good bet that she painted most of these portraits, if not all of them - but this one. There was just something about it that I couldn’t put my finger on. 

“So,” A draft was created from where Valerie swiftly and unexpectedly joined me at my side. “What do you think?” 

“Um, there’s definitely something,” I struggled to find the word. “appealing about this one.” Almost as soon as the word came out of my mouth, I knew it was only a matter of time before she called out the inadequacy of my answer. 

“Appealing?” She repeated in mockery. “That’s the best you got? Come on, you’ve been standing here for like ten minutes. There must be something about it you like.” 

“I’m not sure.” I honestly admitted with a shrug.

“There’s no wrong answer.” She assured me, but I found that hard to believe. 

“So if I said I see a grizzly bear attacking a UFO, that wouldn’t be wrong?”

“Nope,” She popped the p. “If that’s how you interpret it then that’s how you interpret it. Just because someone else sees it differently, doesn’t mean you’re wrong.” It would’ve sounded like complete bullshit or nauseatingly cheesy coming out of someone else’s mouth, but her delivery felt so genuine. It actually moved me. 

As she said this, she turned her head in my direction to look up at me, causing her shoulder to brush my upper arm, sending a wave of goosebumps all over my body. 

She was so close. 

But I was so unbothered by her proximity that I didn’t even notice exactly how close she really was. If someone else had invaded my personal space like that, I would’ve moved in the opposite direction just on instinct, but I didn’t even think to do that with Valerie. I was so comfortable with her being there. 

But was that just because a part of her was once Maeve’s? Was the entire foundation of my likening to Valerie built upon that single attribute?

Was that my bones?

“Um,” I began fidgeting with my hands to self-soothe. “I like it. I don’t know why. But I like it. How’s that for an answer?”

There was a pause before her response that compelled me to look at her, but when I did so, she was already looking at me. “I’ll take it,” She nodded. “It’s the biggest compliment to me if my art can make you feel something.”

Was it the art that made me feel something ... or you?

“I’ll tell you what,” She walked over to grab something from the front desk. She came back with a small piece of cardstock. “I’m going to an art exhibition next weekend. Why don’t you come with me and see if you can’t find something for Emily there?”

She handed me the paper, which was actually her business card. “You don’t have to have an answer for me today, but call me when you do.” She seemed to think that was the end of the conversation, but I still had more questions. 

“You’re inviting me?” was the first question that came to mind, albeit the dumbest one.

“Yeah, you can be my plus one.”

I gulped to dislodge the lump in my throat. “Like-like your date?” 

She furrowed her brows with mild confusion. “Um ... sure, if that’s what you wanna call it,” which was the last thing she said to me before vanishing within the back room again. 

I peered back down at the card and tapped it gently on the palm on my hand as though to register its presence really being there. 

For all intents and purposes, this card was meaningless. But to me, it was the formal consenting - nay, invitation - to reach out to her again. She was willingly extending this line of contact to me. 

No more public library computers. No more files. No more ‘research.’ Just her number - a way to reach her without veering off my moral compass. 

Despite this, I still had no clue whether or not I was going to accept her offer.

All that I did know was that I wanted to see her again. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

PART 3 COMING SOON!

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