#The Edge of Destruction was the originator of the genre and it's one of the eeriest Classic Who stories

[nghtwngs]

the amazing spider-woman

description. being the hero that new york city needs meant being alone, but what if someone can understand that loneliness as much as you?

pairing. tasm!peter parker x spider-woman!reader

genre. fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends, friends to lovers(?), slow burn, mutual pining

word count. 8.6k (literally what)

warnings. no way home spoilers, canon-typical violence, blood/injury, mentions of death, drinking, painkillers, and food, trauma and grief, swearing

author’s notes. the reader’s origin story is a mix of different iterations of spidey and she is implied to be wlw. thank u to @pctcr and @buckybarneslefthand​ for betaing. i hope u enjoy this as much as i love peter (this might be the tasw trilogy we didn’t know we wanted)

Falling was freeing.

The exhilarating rush of the wind through your suit and swinging from building to building left your head spinning. The feeling of falling through the air for those few moments before pulling yourself through New York with your webs almost seemed akin to magic. If there was one thing that you liked about being Spider-Woman, it was this.

Well, after saving people. Of course.

You landed on the rooftop of a building near the Daily Bugle, semi-curious as to what new bullshit your best friend would be saying about you today. It was high enough that you wouldn’t have to worry about anyone seeing you without your mask on. You didn’t need another thing to add to your list of ongoing problems. Harry didn’t even know. You clung to the edge of the roof, eyes watching the billboard across the street.

Spider-Woman is a menace! What kind of so-called ‘hero’ hides behind a mask? This city needs no saving. Only destruction and chaos follow her!

It was the same stuff you heard every day.

“This is getting old, Jameson. Are we running out of ideas?” you muttered.

Like you were gonna reveal your civilian identity and risk the lives of everyone around you. One life was enough. Nobody could know. Knowing meant danger, and if there was one thing that Jameson was right about (albeit reluctantly), it was that chaos followed Spider-Woman. This life you had chosen—these lives that you live, it meant that you were going to be alone. And that was okay.

You scoffed. “It’s as if I didn’t spend 20 hours trying to repair the Brooklyn Bridge the other day after Hobgoblin tried to destroy it with exploding jack o’lanterns.”

You laughed dryly at the absurdity of your words.

“Jack o’lanterns—if I was a guy, Jameson would thank me for what I’ve been doing for this city.”

You decided it’d be best to continue patrolling. This city wasn’t gonna save itself. The deafening sound of sirens suddenly rang through your skull. You sighed, pulling your mask on before jumping over the edge of the building.

It was a few minutes of swinging past police cars until you reached a university research facility. You let out a long sigh after walking into the building, which wasn’t hard considering the usually locked door had been smashed through. The atmosphere was too quiet. You stepped towards a lab. The metal doors were ripped from their hinges, claw marks engraved into the doorframe.

You frowned as your eyes scanned your surroundings. Nothing else had looked out of place. You paused. There was a tingling feeling in the back of your neck. You turned, using your webs to launch yourself away. A solution of acid hissed as it met the tile you were just standing on. “Dude, you gotta stop. This is what, the—the sixth time? The sixth time? Most people would’ve given up at the third attempt, man. But I do have to give it to you. I would’ve been embarrassed.”

That only seemed to anger him. He swung the door in his hands at you. You webbed it, pulling it away from him. It landed into the wall of the hallway behind you with a loud clang. His large tail shot out to slam into you. You had dodged it with ease, flipping over him. You landed, coming to a low stance before squinting up at the creature. (Man? Could you really call him that now?)

The sirens of the police cars grew louder.

“Uh-oh, somebody’s been a bad lizard.”

You continued to dodge his blows, swinging away from his strikes. Jones was slower than Dr. Connors, and Connors wasn’t really that fast to begin with. You tried webbing his arms. He easily ripped them off. “Hey, did anyone ever tell you that it isn’t nice to hit women? Or anybody, for that matter?”

He heaved. “I’m not here to play games, little girl.”

“Look, I know I’m dressed in red, but you really gotta look elsewhere if you want some target practice. It seems like you could really use—“

The lizard’s hand smashed you into the wall. You groaned, head banging against the hard bricks. A dull ache had already formed in your head. You slid down the wall, panting before swerving out of the way of a table. His further attempts to swing his tail at you failed, making him grunt in frustration.

His large hand found purchase around your neck. Your lungs began gasping for air. The sharp cry of a glass window filled your ears. He hung you over the edge of the building.

“What are you here for anyway?” You choked out, attempting to stall him long enough for you to figure out a way to tie his arms. He had been ripping your webbing off with ease. You really hoped you had enough web fluid this time.

You were partly curious as to why this was his place of choice. You figured that prison wasn’t exactly well equipped to babysit lizards, but they didn’t seem to have an issue with Connors. What was so special about this place? There were many other facilities in the area stocked with a better selection of chemicals. Why not Oscorp?

You struggled in his grasp. You managed to extend your arm far out enough. Your web shot out, and a flying beaker struck the back of the lizard’s head. He tripped onto shards of glass, hissing.

A loud wheeze escaped your mouth after you swung yourself back into the room. Your fingers ghosted your neck. Hopefully, that wouldn’t leave any bruises. You’ve run out of concealer. Did you still own that scarf?

His long tail swung out at you, hitting you square in the chest. You crashed into a bookshelf. Your ears were starting to ring. Maybe Dr. Jones was going to put up more of a fight this time around. His muttering was so quiet, but even with the piercing noise in your ears, you could still make out: “I don’t have time for this.”

You composed yourself, books falling off your body once you stood. The green lizard man gagged, a loud hacking sound filling the air. His hand landed on his chest as he doubled over. A thick, hot slime shot out of his mouth, spraying all over you.

“What the hell is this?” You looked down at the sticky (Oh god, why was it sticky?), green globs of lizard goo sliding down your suit. You suppressed a gag. “I think I’m gonna puke.”

You shuddered before quickly shooting your webs out at the big lizard man, attaching them to the ceiling and walls, and swinging around his figure until you finally subdued him, causing him to topple over onto the hard tile floor with a hard crash. The cries of an officer telling the lizard to stay where he was seemed futile, seeing as how he was already knocked over, tied in webbing.

You wheezed, wincing at the sharp ache in your neck. “Can the boys in blue handle it from here?”

Captain Stacy sighed, offering you a small smile. He didn’t have to tell you he was thankful. “Yeah, we’ve got this. Go clean yourself up, kid. You reek.”

“Want a hug?”

He chuckled. “No, thank you. You might want to take a couple showers.”

“Already planning on it. Have a good day, Captain.”

You weren’t sure how your feet managed to be both aching and numb as you headed out of the research facility. You glanced back at it for a moment. I don’t have time for this? You sighed before shooting out a web to the top of a nearby building, swinging your way through the city. Your eyes squinted, attempting to adjust to the harshly bright sky, but your vision is just so sensitive.

A few almost run-ins with traffic and barely colliding into a brick wall later, you spotted Harry outside the corner store near your apartment. No limousine in sight. This was odd considering he didn’t walk, like anywhere, especially not after the whole Green Goblin thing.

“Hey, watch it!” you yelled. “I’m swinging here!”

He stared at you as you landed in front of him, almost falling over due to the throbbing ache in your head and basically everywhere else, and the sudden lack of web fluid in your web-shooters. It felt like a giant hammer was relentlessly banging on your skull.

He dryly chuckled. “Spider-Woman.”

“Osborn.” You could tell Harry was looking at you up and down even when his sunglasses were hiding his eyes. “Lizard goop. Don’t want to talk about it.”

He laughed, but this time it was melodically genuine. “I’m sure. So what brings New York’s famous superhero to a convenience store?”

“Headache. Rude lizard.”

He nodded, an ‘ah’ sound leaving his mouth like it was normal and he understood. But honestly, you didn’t know what was normal anymore. The most normal thing that has happened since you got bit by a radioactive spider was your neighbor, Ms. Kang, getting her cat stuck in a tree. And even then that was kind of odd since there weren’t a lot of trees in your neighborhood.

“And what brings Oscorp’s heir to a convenience store?”

“Not a convenience store,” he corrected. “A friend lives nearby.” He smiled, glancing down at the concrete before meeting your eyes. “She wasn’t answering her phone, so I came to check up on her.”

Since when were you friends?

You went to Midtown together, but you couldn’t really recall a time you ever spoke to Harry other than when he was your lab partner sophomore year, let alone enough to be able to call him a friend. Why couldn’t he just ask one of his employees to get ahold of you?

You nodded. “Ah. Well, since you’re here, do you mind lending me a few dollars? I’m in desperate need of some Tylenol, and I don’t exactly carry a wallet with me.”

Harry chuckled, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “Superheroes don’t carry IDs?”

“Kind of defeats the whole anonymous superhero thing, y’know? Thanks. And do you not carry spare change? It’s New York. You might get robbed.”

“I don’t think I’ll have to worry much with you around.”

“I’ve moved onto higher things like fighting lizards in schools and getting covered in green lizard vomit. But I think I can make a return to being your friendly neighborhood Spider-Woman.”

“I’m honored.” He placed a hand to his heart with a smile. “Honestly.”

You shook your head, laughing. “Bye, Harry.”

“Are we on a first name basis now? Do I finally get to know who’s under that slime covered mask?”

The unamused look under your mask would be the only familiar thing about you to Harry if he could see it. “Goodbye, Osborn.”

“See you around, Spider-Woman.” Harry headed off in the direction of your apartment.

Shit.

The door chimed as you rushed into the store, grabbing the first bottle of painkillers you could find. You set them on the counter along with the bill Harry handed you. “Just this please.”

“Oh, shit.” The cashier gasped in awe. “You’re that Spider-Woman.”

“Yeah.” You sighed, tapping your foot against the tile floor. “I get that a lot.”

“Dude—ma’am, I saw you fighting that elf guy the other day! I was on the Brooklyn Bridge!”

“Elf?” You paused. “You mean Hobgoblin?”

“Yeah, yeah, that guy! You were so cool!”

“Thanks. Please ring me up.”

“Oh, right! Yeah, of course. Sorry, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am.” You exhaled. “I think you’re older than me.”

“Sorry, Spider-Lady.”

You let out a long sigh. Whatever. “Thanks.”

You grabbed the plastic bag and change before running out to your apartment’s fire escape. You swung yourself into the window with a crash that you were really hoping wasn’t too loud. Fuck, your head. You rubbed your sore neck with a groan.

You quickly stripped out of your suit, leaving it in a trash bag, and headed into your shower. The hot water did little to ease the ache in your back, but it managed to soothe your tense muscles. You were dreading cleaning your suit. How much furious scrubbing and tears needed to be shed for it to get out? You could call May? Wait, never mind. You couldn’t exactly go to the dry cleaners. At this point, you were seriously considering making a new one entirely.

A few raps came from the front door. You hurried and got dressed, twisting the knob to find Harry standing in the hallway. Your eyebrows furrowed like you definitely did not expect him to show up at your apartment just because you weren’t answering his calls.

“Osborn?” You scratched your scalp. “Uh, hey. Sorry, I was in the shower.”

He frowned. “You weren’t answering my calls.”

You grabbed your phone from off the counter, finding a few missed calls like he said. “I wasn’t feeling well; slept in all morning. Sorry, I’ll call in sick next time.”

Harry’s lips pursed. “No, it’s fine. I don’t care about that.”

“Oh.” You eyed him curiously. “Then what are you here for?”

“You know Spider-Woman, right?”

The surprise in your voice was real now. “Uh, well, not really. I just take photos of her.”

“So you aren’t the one that’s been taking compounds from the lab to give to her?”

You tore your gaze away from him. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” He laughed. “Materials missing. Best employee missing. Do you think I wouldn’t be able to put two and two together?”

“Do you want me to answer honestly?”

His eyes rolled at you. “Look, I’m not mad. She saved me and my dad. I owe it to her.”

You chewed your lip, nodding. “Well, since you’re here, do you want to come in? I have a bottle of champagne that won’t drink itself.”

“Is my best employee asking me to have a drink with her? In the middle of the day?”

“Your best employee thinks drinking alone is depressing, and that it looks like you could use one as well.”

“Then I’d be obliged.” He walked into your apartment after you shuffled out of the way, quickly kicking a trash bag out of his sight.

Where were you?

One moment you were swinging through Queens and the next you were in some alleyway. You were lucky enough to be able to get the goo off your suit in time for your next patrol, and now you were lost? In your own city? Great. You looked around with a frown. Everything at least seemed normal.

You stepped out onto the street. A few people stared, but most didn’t bat an eye as you walked amongst the crowd. It was New York City. They’ve just about seen it all.

Some guy suddenly stopped you, begging for a picture, and complimented your cosplay. You didn’t get to answer before he snapped a photo of the two of you, a wide grin on his face as he pointed at you with his index finger.

You frowned. “Cosplay?”

He looked up at you from his phone. “Yeah, aren’t you dressed as Spider-Man?”

“Spider-Man?”

“Peter Parker?” He said it like it should’ve meant something to you. “The most famous guy in the world?”

Why would you be dressed as a comic book character?

“You probably shouldn’t be going around like that though. People aren’t really happy with him after he killed Mysterio.”

“Who’s Mysterio? And why would you want a photo with me if he’s a murderer?”

He simply shrugged.

A sinking feeling began to pool in your chest. Something was wrong. The noise of New York you loved was disorienting. It was hard to think here. You let out a long sigh, shooting out one of your webs before pulling yourself through the many buildings. That must’ve been a sight for him to see.

You passed a F.E.A.S.T. billboard with Spider-Man on it as well as a bunch of shops in place of the stores you were familiar with. Was this really New York?

Your feet met the top of the Empire State Building, a small huff emitting from you along with a curse as you landed roughly. At least there was one thing about this city that wasn’t strange. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you rubbed your neck. It was still really fucking sore.

“Rough day?”

“Holy fuck—” You slipped, struggling to grasp at anything to keep you up. You felt something stick to you, pulling you up.

“It’s okay, I got you. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Your head turned towards the voice, about to make a comment that was not so friendly neighborhood Spider-Woman of you, and then you saw him. “Spider-Man?”

He looked a little different than he did on that sign. He ripped his webbing from your body after you steadied yourself.

He laughed. “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

“You’re the guy who killed Mysterio?”

“Killed Mysterio?” He tilted his head. “Who’s Mysterio?”

“No idea. So, you aren’t him?”

“Well, yeah,”—he gestured to himself—“I’m Spider-Man. But I would think I would remember meeting a guy named Mysterio.”

A soft ‘huh’ was all you managed to muster, staring down at the dots of people on the sidewalk below.

“I’m guessing this isn’t your world either.”

You closed your eyes, pulling off your mask. You couldn’t seem to bring yourself to care that you were letting someone else see your face while in the suit. You just desperately needed to breathe some fresh air, and there was just something about him—maybe it was your spider senses—that let you know that it was safe with him.

“My world?” You turned to him, lips curled downward. “Everything looks so familiar, but there’s always something off about it.”

He sighed. “Yeah, like this is New York and not at the same time.”

You nodded. “Do you have any idea how we got here?”

“Nope.” He shrugged. He liked to talk with his hands. “I was just here.”

“I was swinging around in Queens and then I was just in an alley? It was weird, and I thought that maybe I was losing it after getting covered in lizard goo.”

“Lizard goo?”

“It’s not funny.”

A quiet chuckle escaped his lips. It sounded nice. “Eh, it kind of is.”

“Okay, maybe it is—but try spending three hours trying to get it out of your suit! My back ached like hell after bending over my sink for that long.”

“That does sound like hell.”

It’s been a while since you’ve spoken to anyone like this. Not since May died. She used to listen to your complaints and liked to hear your stories about your most recent encounters. She stopped tuning into the news, favoring hearing it from you. You knew why, but you never wanted to talk about it.

The night she found out that you were the one in red and blue spandex running all over New York, she had pleaded for you to stop. You were bloodied and bruised, and your ribs were definitely broken. Cuts littered your face as you told her that it was okay. You healed unnaturally faster than most. You couldn’t go to your mother, who you think would actually suffer a heart attack if she had found out about your daily activities.

May feared for your life, not wanting to lose another person in such a short period. Her husband, Ben Parker, had also been so kind to you. His untimely murder was difficult for her, and you kept her company and comforted her when she needed it.

And when you needed it, she gave the best hugs.

She was there when you had your first heartbreak when Gwen Stacy found out you liked her, and that effectively ended your friendship even though she had smiled at you like she always did and let you know that the two of you were going to be okay. Then she dated Harry. You never spoke much afterward.

She was there the time your mother was struggling to pay the bills while keeping the two of you fed. She brought food from F.E.A.S.T. and a bit of money she had saved up, so you wouldn’t have to eat instant ramen again another night that week. I know it’s not much, but I want you to have it. There were many protests that left your mom’s mouth, but ultimately they were futile. She broke down in tears after May left. You had never seen her cry before.

Even when she was dying, May Parker was full of soul and compassion until her very end.

A soft sigh from your lips fell into the chilly air. You stared up at Spider-Man. “What’s your name?”

“Peter.” There was a pregnant pause after. He laughed awkwardly. “Parker. Peter Parker.”

“Hi, Peter. Parker.”

That’s when you found out how nice your name sounded when he said it.

The view from the top of this building wasn’t bad. The rain made it colder, and it’d be much better if it wasn’t obstructed by a giant screen displaying the most annoying pain in the ass in New York City. And he was, well, a lot more bald now. No cigar either. That was a surprise. You could’ve sworn he lived on those like they were candy.

Spider-Man is a menace. This city needs no saving. Around him, only disaster and chaos ensue. And we innocents are left to pick up the pieces. God help us all.

You bit your tongue. “I guess J. Jonah Jameson is a dick in every world.”

Peter shook his head. “Yeah, no, for sure. I was fighting this guy, and we crashed into his office. I did not hear the end of it after that.”

“Ugh, I bet.”

His head turned to face you, frowning. “You feel that?”

“Yeah. Wanna go check it out?”

Peter nodded, pulling his mask back on. A few petty crimes and unreasonably upset criminals later (They were literally committing crimes. Were they really expecting to not get caught?), the two of you finally leaped off a random building, swinging down into an alleyway where you couldn’t be seen. 

“That guy was not in the holiday spirit.” Peter exhaled.

You climbed onto a fire escape and sat on the railing. Your laugh echoed in the silence of the alley. “I wouldn’t be either if I was getting stopped by two people dressed like us. I think one spider hero is enough for this city.”

“Really?” He looked down at his suit and back up at you. “I think we look great.”

You softly hummed, patting the spot next to you for him to sit.

“You sure you wanna be sitting there? We both know how sturdy those things are.”

“You’ll catch me, won’t you?” Your lips curled downward when there was no reply. “Peter?”

“Yeah.” He sighed out. “Of course.”

Was it something you said? That sinking feeling from earlier returned. You were about to mention it when a flicker of sparks appeared out of nowhere. You and Peter both turned, heads tilting in curiosity as a ring of sparks surrounded a pair of teens like a floating window. A portal?

They called out Peter’s name, yelling and waving their arms to get his attention. Did he know them? He glanced back at you. You nodded, jumping from the railing and jogging towards it with him by your side. You passed through it, no longer in a random cold alley.

A series of shrieks emitted from the poor older lady who was probably this kid’s grandmother. You cringed. Having two people dressed in spandex come through a glowing portal into your dining room was, admittedly, kind of terrifying.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m a nice guy.” Peter ripped off his mask. Why was he standing like that?

The girl on the right pointed towards you two. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Peter Parker.” He really liked to talk with his hands. “I’m Spider-Man… in my world, but then yesterday, I was—I was just here.”

“That’s impossible,” she muttered.

You took off your mask and quickly introduced yourself before gesturing between yourself and Peter. “We’re from different worlds.”

Peter’s eyes gleamed with childlike curiosity, darting around the kitchen. “String theory, multidimensional reality, and matter displacement. All real?”

A soft agreement left both of their lips.

“I knew it!” Peter whispered, mostly to himself than anything.

You would’ve called him a dork if you weren’t as excited about this discovery as he was. The huge grin he gave you was irresistible. You smiled back, admitting, “That is pretty cool.”

“This has to be because of the spell.” This guy was not good at being subtle.

Your heads turned to him. “The spell?”

“Like magic spell?” wondered Peter.

A string of protests left each of their lips at his inquiry which was definitely making it worse for them. The girl tried to shut up her friend who was rambling.

She faced Peter. “Prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“That you’re Peter Parker.”

“I don’t carry an ID with me, you know? Kind of defeats the whole anonymous superhero thing.”

Wait, haven’t you—

There was a soft thunk as a piece of bread landed on the floor. Was that an English muffin? You glanced at the floor. That was definitely not an English muffin. What was that one Filipino bread again? Pandesal?

“Why’d you do that?”

She came to a stance, palms out toward him. This was hard to watch. “To see if you have the tingle thing.”

“I have the tingle thing, just not for bread.”

The girl picked up another piece of pandesal.

“Can you not throw the bread again? You’re a deeply mistrusting person, and I respect it.” Peter jumped, his fingers sticking him to the ceiling.

Somehow she was not satisfied. “Crawl around.”

You were both in disbelief.

“Crawl around?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes, crawl around.”

“Why do I have to crawl around?”

“‘Cause it’s not enough.”

He shook his head. “This is plenty.”

The boy spoke up, “My lola’s asking if you could just get the cobweb up there since you’re like up there?”

With his mask in his mouth, Peter crawled towards a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling, ridding it for the kid’s grandma. His lola thanked him before he jumped back down.

And just when you thought this night could not have gotten weirder, the kid opened another portal, and out came another Peter Parker. There was some sort of understanding between the two Peters as they stared each other down. Their movements were practically the same as they flipped over. Older Peter Parker had shot out a web at yours which you easily grabbed.

“If you’re Spider-Man too, why didn’t you just say that?” the boy asked.

Older Peter smiled. “Uh, I generally don’t go around advertising it. Kind of defeats the whole anonymous superhero thing.”

“I said that,” you and your Peter muttered.

The other Peter was looking for this world’s Peter Parker. That sense? Was it that sinking feeling you had?

“Well, uh, is there some place he might go that has meaning to him? Like a place he would go to just—“

“To get away from everything,” added your Peter.

Older Peter nodded. “For me it was the top of the Chrysler Building.”

You and your Peter said, “Empire State.”

Small smiles crept up on your faces as you glanced at each other.

“Better view,” he added.

Older Peter nodded. “That is a sweet view.”

The girl thought for a moment. “I think I might know a place.”

Ned and MJ held their friend once they reached the roof of Midtown High. This place looked different. Their Peter’s sobs made your chest ache. You were glad that he had people who loved him surrounding him.

He stood up, apologizing for his mistakes. He wanted to send you all home. You recognized yourself in the look on his face. His Aunt May died tonight. Your heart clenched, thinking about your own May.

“Don’t say that—don’t tell me you understand.”

Your Peter sounded as rough as you felt. “I lost… I lost Gwen. My uh, she was my MJ. I couldn’t save her. I’m never gonna be able to forgive myself for that. I carried on, and tried to uh, tried to keep going, tried to be that friendly neighborhood Spider-Man ‘cause I know that’s what she would’ve wanted. At some point, I just, I stopped pulling my punches. I got rageful… I got bitter. I just don’t want you to end up like, like me.”

“I hunted down the man who I thought did it. I wanted him dead.” Older Peter paused. “I got what I wanted. It didn’t make it better. It took me a long time to learn to get through that darkness.”

“It was my fault that May died.” You exhaled shakily, trying to steady your voice. “Doc Ock spread a virus throughout the city, and I had the only cure in my hands. I needed the whole sample, but I wanted to give it to her. So badly. And I just couldn’t do it. All those lives to save, and I still lost her. You can still save these people, Peter. What May Parker stood for shouldn’t have to die with her.”

“I want to kill him. I want to tear him apart.” Young Peter’s voice cracked. “I can still hear her voice. Even after she was hurt, she said we did the right thing. She told me that, ‘With great power—’”

You swallowed. “Comes with great responsibility.”

“Wait, what—how do you know that?”

The other Peters’ eyes were watery like yours.

“Uncle Ben said it.”

“The day he died.”

“And May.”

Peter hesitated as he thought over your words. He looked at all of you. All versions of Spider-Man who have faced loss and hardship, but have carried on. For what was loss, but love that went beyond life itself? What was hardship without the perseverance to keep going? Who was Spider-Man if not the hero whose moral compass surpassed all else even when everything seemed lost?

There was a teary smile on your face as he agreed to help his foes.

Midtown’s chemistry lab was certainly not the first place you would think of to develop cures, but you supposed it worked just fine for what you were trying to achieve. Your Peter shrugged on a lab coat over his suit sometime after you went into the room. He looked ridiculous, but he probably looked more normal than you and young Peter did in just your suits.

You sat on a stool next to your Peter, leaning your elbows on the table. “You already made a cure once?”

He glanced over at you through his goggles. “Uh, yeah. Obviously it didn’t work.”

“I could help?”

“That’d be nice. Thank you.”

You began working on the cure for Dr. Connors together. You both figured out that some of his ratios of solutions were off. The potency of his original formula was greatly lowered because of it.

“You have anyone?” You heard Older Peter ask.

This seemed personal. You shouldn’t pry, but it’s hard when your hearing was enhanced.

“Oh, uh, no. I don’t have time for… Peter Parker stuff. You know how it is… You got anyone?”

“Yeah, it took a while, but we figured it out: me and MJ. Well, a different MJ. It gets kind of confusing around here.”

Ned called out his friend’s name, but he never specified which one. And after several painful attempts at specifying which Peter Parker he was talking about, you all finally sorted it out. Sort of. You were just assuming he was talking about his Peter. And you thought you were bad at socializing. 

Ned handed his friend his stuff. “Here’s your web cartridges.”

“Aw, thanks, man,” said young Peter as he grabbed them.

Older Peter glanced at the web cartridges. “What’s that for?”

“Web fluid for my web-shooters. Why?”

Webs suddenly shot from the eldest Peter’s wrists, causing everyone to flinch. Everyone stood, faces all carrying the same disbelief.

Ned’s eyes widened. “That came out of you—”

Your Peter’s face came closer to the eldest’s wrists, trying to examine them with an expression of both horror and intrigue. “How on earth do you even—“

He looked half amused. “Yeah, you can’t do that, huh?”

You and younger Peter shook your heads, kind of horrified. “No?”

Young Peter had realized that you were all getting sidetracked and began to discuss when and how you were going to go about curing everyone. Ned brought up that he could portal everyone to the Statue of Liberty using strange magic (was there known magic in this universe?), following with a promise to not turn into a supervillain and try to kill his best friend.

How nice.

Everyone was in a rush trying to get their cures and themselves ready. You glanced over at Peter, this world’s version of Peter Parker, attempting to fix up Max’s machine. A quiet chuckle escaped your lips. This was strange. Was meeting a comic book character (well three technically) from other universes weirder than getting bit by a radioactive spider and gaining superpowers? Yeah, probably.

This must’ve been hard for him. He was still in high school. Aunt May had been there for most of his life. You had only known May since you were a sophomore who needed volunteer hours for her graduation requirements. She was the lady who was kind enough to show you around F.E.A.S.T and helped you when you felt completely lost on your first day.

You hadn’t realized your feet had moved until you were in front of Peter. He looked up at you curiously, a question leaving his lips. You weren’t sure what he said. He then said your name.

“Oh.” How would you begin? “I’m sorry, uh, about May.”

You were terrible at this.

Peter’s lips pursed, mumbling some words of gratitude.

“I lost my May last year. She was, well, I’m sure you know how she was. Kind, and loving, caring, and everything I wanted to be loved with. My mom is a great mom, don’t get me wrong, but she wasn’t ever really there, I guess? I know my mom cares and she loves me, but it was hard to tell her anything. With May, it was easy.

And she knew about the whole”—you gestured to your suit—”Spider-Woman stuff. She took it pretty hard at first, but I think she understood that this was important to me. I couldn’t just stand by while people were getting hurt and then—then she was the one who got hurt and I… I could’ve done something to save her. But all those other people who were infected… I thought about them, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. What was the right choice to make? Why did I have to be the one to make these decisions? I was just some college student. Then she held my hand and told me everything would be alright and that she was proud of me. And then I watched her smile at me for the last time.” You wiped the tears that slid down your cheeks with the back of your hand.

Peter’s eyes glistened. “My Aunt May she, uh, didn’t handle me being Spider-Man well either. She wanted me to quit for a while. I guess she also realized that this whole saving people thing meant a lot to me too. I wanted to send these guys back home at first, but she wanted me to help them. And even when—even when she…” Peter swallowed. “She got hurt…”

“She wanted to help everyone.”

“Yeah, and I’m just… I’m so angry that I didn’t do more to protect her. And I’m so angry at him.” Peter’s jaw tensed.

“The next time I saw Doc Ock, I almost killed him. I felt that same anger, and I lost it. I kept hitting and hitting and hitting until I ripped his metal arms off. He looked so vulnerable on that rooftop. So helpless. And then I just… I walked away. I know seeing him again will hurt, but don’t lose yourself like I did. May wouldn’t want that for you. You’re just a kid, Peter.”

You were all just kids.

You and Peter both clung to the metal railing, shoulders touching as you stared out into the dark abyss of the New York sky. There were no stars to watch which was a little disappointing, but you weren’t here to stargaze. There was a silence that fell between you as you listened to the soft waves of the water below.

He suddenly spoke. “Why do you do it—this?”

Older Peter wasn’t standing that far from you, and younger Peter was way up high on the Statue of Liberty herself. She had a shield for some reason. His question was jarring, but there was not a lot of thought that was needed to answer. It didn’t matter that they could hear you.

“I do it because there are people that need saving,” you whispered, heavy gaze meeting his, “and I can do that saving.”

He frowned, a thought seemingly coming to mind at your words. “Do we need saving?”

You breathed in the chilly, winter air. “People like us need to save ourselves.”

“But don’t you want more?”

His gloved hand met your cold cheek, thumbing away a stray tear. Your watery eyes told him all he needed to know. He pulled your head into the crook of his neck. He was warm. You don’t remember the last time anyone held you like he did under the cloudy night.

“We don’t get to have more.” Your voice cracked, and you hated how it sounded.

You knew he understood, but he still asked, “Why not?”

Your tears blurred your vision. “May and Gwen. We lost them, and I don’t think my heart can handle losing someone else. I was so angry after May died, and it felt like everything she had lived for died too. I didn’t deserve her kindness. Sometimes, I still think about calling her or stopping by her apartment to ask her to mend my suit for me. Then I feel silly when I remember she’ll never answer my calls or my knocks on her door again.”

Peter swallowed. “I remember when Gwen died. She was thrown down, um, a clock tower by the Green Goblin. I caught her with my webs and still… She still died. I never forgave myself for not catching her myself.” He glanced at the other version of himself. “But maybe—maybe we owe it to them to have more. If your May is anything like my Aunt May, she wouldn’t want you to be alone. It hurts, yeah. It’s always gonna hurt—but that doesn’t mean you have to go through it by yourself. She’d want you to be happy.”

You couldn’t see, but he probably looked about the same as you. Reddened eyes and noses, wet cheeks cool from the air. He smelled like rain and peppermint. You could feel every ridge and dip in the texture of his suit against your skin. He felt so tangible against you, so alive and so breathing.

“Do you really think that?”

“No,” he began, “but I think I’m starting to.”

You never realized how cold it was in the city until after you pulled away from his warmth. You hummed, trying to get rid of the familiar feeling bubbling in your stomach. You’ve never been good at making it go away before. In high school, it didn’t go away until much after you and Gwen were just classmates again—like you had never shared your fears and wishes within the thin walls of her bedroom.

You found out right after that both Peters had back problems. Giggles had emitted from your lips at the sight of your Peter cracking the other’s back. Your own limbs were constantly sore from all the fighting and avoiding getting killed.

“God, this is so cool.” Peter laughed. “I always wanted brothers… So you like, make your own web fluid in your body?”

“I’d rather not talk about this.”

“No, I don’t mean to—”

Older Peter pointed to himself. “Are you teasing me?”

A rush of protests ran from young Peter’s mouth. “He’s not teasing you! It’s just that… we can’t do that, so naturally, we’re curious as to how your web situation works. That’s all.”

“If it’s personal, I don’t want to pry, but I just think it’s cool.”

“No, I wish I could tell you, but it’s like I don’t do it. It’s like, like I don’t do breathing. Like breathing just happens.”

“Does it like, ever run out?” you asked, glancing at his wrists. “And does your suit have… holes for them to come out?”

“Like a web block?” your Peter added. “‘Cause I run out of webs all the time. I have to make my own in a lab. And it’s a hassle.”

“Yeah, there are holes in my suit. And that sounds like a hassle, yeah, but I did. I was like oh, I had a web block.” This Peter also liked to talk with his hands. “Existential crisis stuff.”

You nodded. “Oh. I have to make mine in a lab too. Don’t you hate it when you run out in the middle of trying to tie up a lizard?”

“God, yeah, it’s annoying.” Your Peter exhaled. “Dr. Connors, right?”

You shook your head. “Caught him a few months ago. He’s been in prison for a while. There’s another lizard guy.”

“Another?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. What are the chances?”

He chuckled. “Pretty high, apparently.”

You pointed towards his wrist. “Can I?”

He looked down at his web-shooters. “Oh. Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

Your Peter handed you one of his web-shooters for you to examine. The builds of yours and his were strikingly similar. You took out one of your web fluid cartridges, attempting to insert it into his. And to your surprise, it clicked into place.

“Can you shoot two webs?” you asked, giving it back to him.

He nodded, pointing his wrists at a metal bar. The webs were identical, but you tugged each, finding that yours was slightly more sturdy. You passed a few cartridges of your web fluid towards the man. “It’s made of a semi-organic compound that’s pretty durable, but still keeps the same flexibility as your webs. I think you’ll like it.”

“Wait, where do you get something like this? The only place I could ever get my hands on that is—“

“Oscorp,” you finished. “Yeah, I kind of work there.”

Both pretty Parker and older Peter looked at you. Something in their eyes was sad as they spoke, “Harry?”

“A dick.” You sighed. “But you get used to him.”

“And Green Goblin?”

“Norman Osborn? He’s okay. They’re okay.”

They nodded, a little wash of relief can be seen in their features. Something told you that things must’ve turned out differently for those two in their worlds. You were all lucky enough to come out unscathed. Almost, at least. Norman was in a rehabilitation facility, and Harry, well, you knew it was hard on him without the guidance of his beloved father.

“Hey,” young Peter called, “what are like some of the craziest villains that you guys have fought?”

“Seems you’ve met some of them.” A chuckle came from older Peter’s lips. 

Your Peter laughed. “That’s a good question.”

“Yeah, I fought an uh, an alien made out of black goo once.”

“Oh, no way. I fought an alien too! On earth and in space.” You weren’t sure why young Peter felt the need to yell. You were sure all of you had enhanced hearing already. Also space?

“Oh.”

“Yeah, he was purple.”

“I want to fight an alien—did you all fight an alien?” Your Peter sounded jealous.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, nodding your head. “Yeah, I also fought that alien made of black goo… we called them Venom. You guys know Flash, right?”

They all looked at you. “Wait, Flash?”

“Um, yeah. The guy who bullied a bunch of kids at Midtown? I’m assuming you guys went to school with him too? I had to tutor him a few times. Found out he started a Spider-Woman fan club.” A giggle slipped out of you at the thought.

“Huh…” Each Peter wore the same expression of disbelief.

Your Peter crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m lame compar—like I fought a Russian guy in like a rhinoceros machine.”

“Yeah, I mean I fought a lizard two days ago.” Your shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “He was a doctor trying to develop a serum to cure almost any disease. Nothing’s really been that exciting lately. But you know, in my world, you guys are all comic book characters. I mean, one character, technically.”

You could hear the excitement in young Peter’s voice. “Seriously?”

“That is so cool.” Your Peter grinned, pointing to himself. “I’m a comic book character?”

You looked over at him, matching his grin. “Yes, Peter. The coolest one.”

There was a crease between the eldest’s brows. “Can we rewind it back to the ‘I’m lame’ part? ‘Cause you are not.”

“Aw thanks, yeah no, I appreciate it—I’m not saying I’m lame—” Peter brushed him off. He was definitely not taking this to heart.

You don’t really blame him. You wouldn’t either. Would this technically be considered giving a pep talk to yourself?

The other Peter waved his hand towards his head. “It’s just the self talk. Maybe we should, you know—”

“Thank you, yeah.” Your Peter gripped onto the railing. “No, I kinda needed to hear that. Thank you.”

You bumped his shoulder with yours, offering him a small smile. “I think you’re amazing.”

Peter’s face softened at that. “Thank you.”

The back of your skull tingled. You heard young Peter’s soft voice fill the air, telling you guys to focus now. This was it.

This was a cathartic end in a way; seeing these people, some whom you have fought before, be healed as they always deserved to be, but had never been given the opportunity to be until now. Young Peter will make a great Spider-Man.

The loss of May Parker would forever be a weight on both of you, but so would her love and kindness and soul—and somehow, you thought everything would be just fine.

The hues of orange and pink blended seamlessly across the sky. It brought warmth to your skin and your chest. How come you never realized how beautiful the sunrise is in New York?

“I hope I get to see you again.” Your Peter smiled. “All of you.”

A nod of agreement was shared. Young Peter finally said his goodbyes with a group hug and then left to see his friends.

Your Peter held the other version of himself by the waist. You don’t remember ever getting stabbed before, but you’re sure it hurt. The poor guy’s strained expression said enough as your Peter acknowledged it. You smiled at the two.

Older Peter looked between the two of you with a knowing smile (what he knew, you weren’t sure) before making his way, though very slowly, towards Norman. You were sure they had much to talk about and catch up on. Dr. Osborn looked like he needed it anyway.

You were left alone with your Spider-Man and the sky in shades of gold. You wanted to hug him again, but you weren’t sure if it was appropriate or not? Or were you just overthinking it considering that this might be the last time you’ll ever see him?

The syllables of your name fell into the cold air from his tongue. Say it again, please?

“I think I’ll miss you.” Your voice was soft.

It was like he could just tell. His lanky arms covered your body, squeezing you tightly. “I think I’ll miss you too.”

You stayed like that for a while. Aunt May must’ve taught him how to hug. Even if they weren’t the same person, you felt every bit of her being in him. Was it too much to ask if you could stay like that forever? The universe seemed to ignore your request as you began to slip from his warm grasp.

Your Peter held up a peace sign as you all began to fade from this version of your beloved city, from all the versions of Peter Parker that you’ve grown to like and care for in the last day.

Your Peter. That sounded nice.

A soft whisper fell from your lips as you chuckled. He was just like you. “Idiot.”

You sighed, staring out the window of your apartment. Snow decorated New York well. That was until the soft white snow turned into a brown slush that definitely would not taste like coke. Though it was a white Christmas just as you hoped.

Was Peter having a white Christmas too?

He filled your mind often, all three of them did, but mostly your Peter. Did he ever think about you? His face and his infectious smile had plagued your thoughts and your dreams since your meeting. So much so, that you found yourself doubting that any of that actually happened.

Stupid, weird, lizard goo.

This was certainly not how you expected to be spending the holiday season. It was strange. You had Harry Osborn in your living room watching Home Alone with you. You decided that it was a nice weird. A Santa hat that you said looked stupid decorated his head. Although it was kind of cute on him. Peter would look cute in a Santa hat. In your hands was a mug filled with hot chocolate, a delicious and probably extremely overpriced kind that he brought over.

Harry got you the entire collection of The Amazing Spider-Man comics with a dumb grin on his face like it was some terribly funny joke. You swatted the back of his head afterward, listening to a drawn whine emitting from his eggnog-covered lips. On top of the stack of comics was a shirt with you on it, or well, Spider-Woman in a Santa hat. Harry pulled his thick green sweater over his head to reveal himself wearing the same shirt.

You snorted. “I hate you.”

“What? You don’t want to match?”

“You look so dumb. But I do appreciate the comics. I will now have something to read when I get tired of you. I will get through it easily.”

He scoffed at you. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Okay, now open your gift. It’s definitely not as expensive as yours, but…” Your voice trailed off, eyebrows knitting.

Harry called your name a few times, watching you with a face full of concern. After a few moments, he sighed. “It’s okay. Go. I can open it later.”

You offered him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Might wanna come back sooner or else this eggnog will all be gone. And come back in one piece, Spidey.”

“That’s the plan, Harry.”

“So we’re on a first name basis now?”

“Goodbye, Osborn.”

You changed into your suit and pulled on the mask with a light exhale, leaping out of your window and into the cold, winter night. The rush of the wind, the weightlessness of swinging through the air. It left your heart racing, and you felt more alive than ever. You fell in love with this.

Crime always continued on, and even through tragedy, so did Spider-Woman.

[rozcdust]

Blame it on me

Pairing: Taiju Shiba x f!reader (platonic)

Genre: Angst with cracky elements

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Canon divergent, ooc, profanity, drug abuse, violence, body horror, nightmares, religious imagery, shitty parents, reader is a terrible person

pt. 1 | previous | pt. 7 | next | playlist | original story

Taiju vowed he’d make sure you get better.

He vowed to God and Devil alike in a hushed tone at the alter displaying all of his sins, vowed to every force out there willing to listen to his pleas, with a knife still in his side and eyes cast to the ground.

You were a broken doll, made out of clay and water and glaze, shattered and glued together and shattered all over again, painted over to look brand new again and again and again until you looked nothing like the original doll.

He knew you liked it that way, you like feeling just as exhausted inside and out, just as gazed and dull and so utterly pathetic, it made you nauseous, but getting sicker and sicker and more high and more high felt like the right thing to, felt like you screaming ‘Look at me! You didn’t kill me so I’ll kill myself! Look at me!’

You were Taiju’s chance at redemption, and you were the only doll that wasn’t broken by his hands.

He will fix you.

He will make sure you get better, so help him God.

He was overjoyed when he got the call from Hakkai, even if Hakkai and Mitsuya were hesitant to hand you over, even if they were hesitant and exchanged worried looks, he still took you in, he still made sure you had everything you need.

Your room was always clean, the stuffed animals and clothes and books and small shiny trinkets you abandoned at your parents’ house all found in the room Taiju designated for you.

He has been cooking your favourite meal ever since Hanma sought him out, even if he didn’t know when you’ll come back, if you’ll come back, he wanted you to have something familiar and pleasant to come home to.

Taiju was your home.

No matter how much you liked to deny it.

“Come on, we have to go.”

You merely stared blankly at Taiju, cocooned in the numerous blankets and comforters Taiju provided so your body would stop shaking, numb and bloodless in your grief.

Taiju sighed at your silence, sitting on the edge of the bed, careful to not get too close.

“Hanma visited me before he kicked you out.” Taiju said, staring through the window of your room off into the distance.

You flinched at the mention of his name, curling up further into yourself, refusing to even spare Taiju a glance.

“He said you needed professional help. He wanted you to get better, y/n. And I promised him I’ll make sure you get better.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you inhaled deeply, then deeply exhaled, and inhaled again, desperate to even out your breathing.

“So get up, we’re going to the psychiatrist.”

You refused to move an inch.

You knew you needed help, it was an obvious, blatant fact, but still.

Self-destruction tasted a little too sweet for you to just give it up like that.

“Will you disappoint him, y/n? Let everything he has done for you go to waste? He loved you, you know. The only reason he kicked you out is so you had a fair shot.”

You shut your eyes tighter as you scrunched your nose in displeasure, a hundred and one thoughts racing inside your head, almost too fast to grasp at any of them.

‘Run along, my dove, be who you wanted to be.’

You shook your head to stop the sound of his voice inside your head.

“You can do this only if you let yourself.”

You can get better.

Get better, get better, get better, getbettergetbettergetbettergetbetterget-

You got up.

Escitalopram, alprazolam, melatonin.

You turn around and around in your bed, nightmares and tired restlessness plaguing you like your very own personal little hell, screams and sobbing in a voice that was too close to your own yet so different, it felt like cotton stuffed down your throat and into your lungs, silencing you forever.

Some nights, you dream of crawling to an abandoned building at the heart of Tokyo, and an onryo waiting inside for you, its empty eye sockets staring through your mangled body and when it asks you for a name, all you can offer is a wretched smile.

No one will sell you anymore.

Hanma made sure of that.

You wish you could go back to being curled up inside of his arms, high out of your damn mind and your nails digging into his flesh, almost as a reminder he was still there and alive.

The psychiatrist said everything is wrong, that the insomnia should be getting better, that the pills should start working soon.

You hate Hanma for leaving as he did, but you miss him like a fucking kid every goddamn forsaken day.

You miss your only friend.

Baji and Tora and Chifuyu and Hakkai and Mitsuya all try, try so desperately to be there for you, trying to drag you out the house and to go out eat, go out skating, go have fun and live like you were supposed to do in all those years you foolishly threw away without a thought.

Escitalopram, alprazolam, melatonin, all given to you under Taiju’s watchful eye, all stored away from your fingertips and away from your sight.

This night, the onryo said nothing and instead only stared with hateful eyes and you had nothing to offer but every hurtful word you ever allowed to fall out of your mouth.

The nightmares make you wake up sobbing and Taiju frantically runs into your room, holding you like a child and letting you get all of your terror out.

Escitalopram, alprazolam, melatonin.

Double the dose.

The headaches are getting worse.

You turn around and around in your bed, restless and hopeless, and the urge to open up your body and carefully separate the skin from the fat and muscles gets more and more reckless each night.

Some nights, you dream you’re in a room filled with clocks.

They all point to midnight and you wake up with your throat scratched raw and sweat coating your skin.

You see your therapist every week, on a Tuesday, at 4 p.m. sharp. She told you to write a list of reasons why you should get better, why you want to get sober. You wrote down all the reasons why you wish they’d just let you die.

On nights when you feel better, you crawl into the shower and scrub your body until your skin is red and cracking and blistering and frostbite is covering your cheeks but you can never feel clean.

Your therapist said healing hurts, but you never thought it’d hurt in the same way a plant wilting does.

You read that the human body changes the skin every few months, and you fear the day all of your skin cells will be replaced by new ones, by ones Hanma has never touched before.

Hanma was your only lifeline.

The filth stuck between your ribcage and lungs will never hurt as much as seeing his soft eyes and lazy grins again.

Escitalopram, alprazolam, melatonin.

Triple the dose.

🔖Taglist (open):

@1818cigarettes @babu-haitani @dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @emilywaters @m0rrax @levistiddies @bxnten @spookygeto @graythecoffeebean @yukihime-mikeys-girl @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @crybabylisa @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @eilicity @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @bontenacious @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @erza-uzumaki @sh4nn @sisnot @r3pr0duce @adeptiixiao @siriuspisces @bubs-world @makimakimi @namisblkgf @aces-high @syddisheep @gabytodd @hanmasangrysmoosh @nina-and-the-mirror-realm @rizaki

a/n: a bitch got sick so updates may get even an worse schedule than they already have, my apologies 😭 i’ll try my best tho! 💕

[honeycompose]

Living the Life of a Hero

Hello I’m mad about the fact the Executive Meddling Mandates don’t let Sonic “get too emotional” in official media. So I wrote some fic about him screwing up, getting frustrated, and crying 👀 I like the idea of Sonic not being the perfect hero.

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog

Rating: G

Genre: Light angst

Word Count: 1115

Living the life of a hero is true happiness. Isn’t it? It’s recognition and praise. It’s receiving chances few could even dream of. It’s living by no one else’s rules but your own; will completely free.

But you know what else it is? It’s having to be perfect. Never making even a small mistake. Being critiqued on everything you do and how you do it. It’s getting your friends in danger and wondering where you went wrong. It’s hiding any negative emotion you have in favor of being the pillar of strength and heroism.

Living the life of a hero is taking time to yourself to run away to a scenic cliffside as Sonic has done. He was never a fan of water, but he couldn’t deny the monotonous sounds of the ocean waves crashing and lapping at the beaches below sounded calming. Plush grass made for a decent seat as he stared out towards the horizon. The day had grown old and, as the sun set and bathed the world in a golden tone, it had come to a moment of peace. A moment the hedgehog wasn’t so used to.

For the last few days, Sonic and his friends had been working toward taking down Dr. Robotnik’s many factories. Underground, Robotnik had created a small army of working bots to build up these factories right under our heroes’ noses. When wind had finally been caught, there were already five factories in semi-working shape. To work against the bad doctor’s advantage, Sonic and his friends had decided they’d split into many different attack groups to take each of the factories down. Once the original five were scrapped, they’d target Robotnik’s headquarters itself.

For the most part, the plan was going fantastically. Amy was the first to inform Sonic that she and her team had taken down their factory. Ever trustworthy to crumble evil quickly was Miss Amy Rose. The Chaotix followed suit with their report, telling them they’d caused enough mayhem for distraction that led to a full toppling. Everything was great. Everything should have been going perfectly.

Should have.

No one should have had an easier time of this than Sonic and his team. But even before leaving for their mission, Sonic knew he was off. He was thrown off. So many badniks and factories had sprung up out of nowhere. He should have seen them way before they got this far along. He was everywhere all the time; his speed let that happen. And he had to play it cool. But it really showed.

Simply put, Sonic messed up. He let his focus slip. He and Tails had formulated a plan to sabotage the mechanics of the conveyor belts to cause a jam. Sonic would move along the belt itself to send it into a backward motion. In that time, Tails would position to begin messing with the upper turbine of the same belt, which would send that belt even further in reverse. Things were working well, but after some time, Sonic looked over the edge of the belt he was on. On the factory floor below, badniks were beginning to march. This kept the blue blur’s attention for quite some time and caused him to slow to a stop. Where could they be going?

“Sonic!!” The familiar scream tore him away from the mechanical parade. Down the opposite end of the belt, Tails was trapped beneath the shell of one of the bots and was close to being fully trapped under robot rubble. In the time Sonic had stopped, the turbine Tails pushed against fought back further than he thought it would. It won the battle, hitting him so hard it sent the fox colliding down with shells of bots waiting to be filled. He was out for a moment before he realized he was headed right for destruction. Sonic took off full speed towards his friend, knocking the heavy shell off with a spin dash. He pulled Tails off and away from the belt where he discovered he had injured one of his tails in the process.

From then, Sonic opted to finish the mission himself. He sent Tails out of the factory as safely as he could. The hedgehog hero worked double time to overwhelm each of the conveyer belts by himself. When they began successfully exploding, he left the factory himself and returned to the trusty Tornado. Injury couldn’t keep Tails fully off the ground as he flew himself and Sonic to safety.

When they arrived home, everyone congratulated them on a great job. The two were showered in praise before Tails was quickly tended to by some of their more medically savvy friends. Sonic, on the other hand, took this time to say he was going to go for a run. He knew one would bother him or follow him. It was just something he did. But what he needed this time was to escape. To leave the hectic life he lived for just a short while. Which was where he was now; staring out at the horizon.

Recalling the events began to become overwhelming again. The sound of Tails’ fearful scream, the sight of him panicking, the sight of him trapped under a robot and headed towards what could have been doom. That was his buddy. His best friend. His little brother! He could have lost him! And it was all his fault. His inability to focus almost got his best friend crushed!

It began bubbling and bubbling. Sonic’s breathing began to quicken as he began rubbing and clawing at his head. In a mere few seconds, his whole mood flipped. He felt his eyes stinging as his gloves began to dampen. He was crying. The tears began to overwhelm him even more as he finally snapped, letting out a howling, pained scream. Everything in the world felt so loud for a moment before falling completely silent.

And there he sat. Completely in silence as he cried into his hands. This continued for a while before he took a deep breath. Glossy green eyes returned to the horizon. The once golden day had faded to sunset; purple and blues taking over the sky and painting the landscape in a cooler shade.

It was time to head back. Time to face everyone he had to keep safe and impress. To face the friend he had gotten hurt. He’d ask his buddy if he was alright in a way that was curiously concerned, but not fearful. He couldn’t be weak. He had to be a hero. He had so many lives riding on his shoulders. That was simply how things went when you lived the life of a hero.

[mortaljin]

Maybe Ever After | Chapter 9

Word Count: Warnings: Cursing, implied smut/left to the imagination, Genre: Angst and fluff || Royalty!AU | Magic!AU | Fairytale!Au Pairing: Prince!Seokjin x Reader | Sorcerer!Yoongi x Reader (+ side Jungkook x OC)

Summary: Do you have what it takes to break a six century curse, or will you be caught in a romance between the indecisive prince and power-hungry sorcerer?

Masterlist | Moodboard | Jungkook’s Moodboard | Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | 6.1 | 6.2 | 6.3 | 6.4 | Seven | Eight | Nine |Ten | ? ? ? | Epilogue

A/N: Hello everyone! Here is chapter 9 of Maybe Ever After. We are getting pretty close to the end, actually, and I am so excited to see where these characters end up!

*Please Note: I am currently in the process of updating my masterlist. All summaries, headings, pairings, links, that you see above are going to be the standard across this series' posts! Please bear with me over the upcoming days as I clean up my blog!"

Thank you and please enjoy!

Previously on Maybe Ever After…

If there was a way for Min Yoongi to make her hurt the way she hurt him, Yoongi would travel across time and space to do so.

For what felt likes hours, he let himself feel like a human; broken, lost, and aching. Yoongi had grabbed that last painting, the one he spent so much time to afford a commission, and had fallen to his knees in front of the flames.

His rage had subsided, and he was left with a bitter coldness encasing his heart again. Staring down at the painting, he drowned out the outside world—the sound of the horses travelling by, the birds signing outside his windows.

The thought of trashing this painting in particular shook him to the core, but he knew it was something to be done. Countless times he had heard (and seen) the destruction you left in your wake after heartbreak, and he understood now how freeing it felt to rid himself of all the things that linked himself back to Odella.

He resigned to toss this last piece of art into the flames too.

But, like most of his plans, they do get interrupted. This time, he was interrupted by the sound of his door being tossed open with a fervor, and the frantic panic in a woman’s voice. It sent shivers down his spine to hear his name fall from those lips with an adoration he had not heard in centuries.

“Oh Yoongi…”

Yoongi’s POV

All he could do was stare at you. Numb with pain but seething with anger. The look on your face was one of pity.

This angered him.

So much so that he unconsciously began to dig the tips of his fingers into the edges of the painting where he so desperately clung. Dry flakes of paint were building up under his fingernails; the reds and blues clinging together to form dirty chunks.

He turned his face to the ground, angry to see you staring at him in such a shameful state. A broken shell of what he once was, tears clouding his vision on the floor of his lowly cottage. A cottage that wasn’t even his, not originally; it was Odella’s. The failure of not even being able to call this home his own elicited another sob to break from his chest.

Oh yes, Min Yoongi was ashamed that someone was seeing him in his weakest state. Least of all it be you that sees him this way.

But, when he realized you weren’t backing away or mocking him he felt even more embarrassed. Instead, you were creeping closer to him with an uncertain hand outstretched, waiting to see if he would accept your presence.

“Yoongi, are you okay?”

You had knelt in front of him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. The light weight of your touch sent shivers down his spine.

“Yoongi?” You asked, probing one more time for a response.

Min Yoongi cried once more. He knew he didn’t deserve your kindness. For the last few weeks, the entire month perhaps, he had been short, quick tempered, and cold to you. The poor behavior was an attempt to push you away and you failed to acquiesce to his bitter requests, albeit unspoken.

To be fair, the rudeness wasn’t disingenuous. Any distaste he had for you was real. And so was the distaste for the prince. He hated the way you light up every time the charismatic prince stepped into the room; the way he twirled you around every time you showed off a new ball gown he had made for you.

Yoongi hated the way you always found a way to bring Jin’s name up in conversation: “Jin said that he would be renovating some of the castle’s rooms,” or “Do you think this soup tastes okay, Jin said it was too herbal,” or any innocent inquiry into his whereabouts.

He hated the way you did not hide the feelings you had for that damned Prince.

Most of all, he hates the feelings you hold for him too. The late night rendezvous through the royal gardens, the stolen kisses between shelves of books, the sweet nothings you whisper in his ear behind marble pillars.

Deep down, Min Yoongi knew you fancied him too. At least that’s what he thought until he caught you in a moment of passion with the flustered prince. It was only thanks to the urgent business of announcing Minho’s passing that he was able to ignore the feeling of betrayal coursing through his veins.

Right now, what he really hates is how lovingly you were treating him right now; the way you spoke his name makes him feel like Odella is standing right there, only a breath away.

“Please leave,” he muttered.

The tension in the air grew thick and you sighed, shifting your weight into a new position. He felt both of your arms sliding around his middle before you placed a heavy head on his back.

“I’m not going to leave you until you’re okay.”

Your reply was muffled by fabric, but he felt the sentiment all the same.

He lifted a hand from the painting, still clutched to his chest, to wipe the half-dried tears from his cheeks. To stall from the question, he busied himself with furiously rubbing at his eyes. Next he let the painting go with a soft thud on the wooden floor. Again, he busied himself with straightening the cuffs of his shirt to avoid bearing his heart to you. Yoongi felt you sigh against him, and he knew there was no way to hide from your imposition.

“I’m angry,” was all he said.

“Who are you angry at?”

“The world. Myself.”

“But why?”

“The world is cruel, and I—” He paused, turning his head to look over his shoulder. “I am a fool,” he finished with a whisper.

When you stayed silent, Yoongi moved to rise. You released the light grasp you had on him and allowed him to go as he pleased. He turned fully towards the fireplace. The flames now dying down were relit with fervor with a slight movement of his hand.

The fire roared once more, and he heard you shuffling to your feet behind him. Time seemed to slow, now, after such an emotionally driven moment. Dozens of paintings, good and bad, were ashes like the last 600 years were. He picked that last, commissioned painting up off the floor and stared down at it.

Odella’s hair was still perfectly placed and Yoongi’s hand was still gentle on her shoulder.

“Do you still love her?”

He scoffed, looking up and blinking another tear away. If she ever genuinely loved him, if there was some mistake in all this, that girl he loved was gone. And he was going to be okay.

“No,” he said as he turned, half facing you, half towards the fire. “Not anymore.”

“Then what was all that?”

“It was… damage control.”

This elicited a small snort from you. The brief moment of humor was quickly buried under your gaze, prompting him to elaborate.

“I haven’t been sad like this in quite some time.”

You stepped closer to him, reaching out to grab the hand that wasn’t holding on to the painting.

“And what about now? Are you sad now?”

He wasn’t sad this time. No, Min Yoongi was just tired. Tired of hurting, tired of jealousy, tired of not having you.

“Not with you here,” he murmured.

Min Yoongi tossed the painting into the flames as he dipped his head to place a deep kiss on your mouth.

You smiled into the kiss, emitting a soft sigh at the sensation. He let you run your fingers along the trim of his clothes, thumbing the embellishments of the royal Kim family.

“She was a fool, Min Yoongi.” You said, taking a tassel between your fingers and looking at him so sweetly. “Any girl would be better off than a queen if she was yours.”

This made Min Yoongi falter, a brief thump echoing in his chest. It pleased his ego greatly to hear you elevate his worth past that of royalty. He grabbed your hand and eagerly clasped them between his own.

Before you walked into his cottage, Min Yoongi felt like he was being damned to this God forsaken book once more. The weight of an eternity spent in outcasted solitude came crashing down on him worse than any storm he had weathered.

Before you walked into the book itself, he suffered alone. He was damned to one single scene in a fairytale.

Only rarely did he venture from his cottage, a dozen times at best. There was no one that he felt he could even call a friend. The closest person being a friend of Odella’s whom he saw frequently.

They left town shortly before the curse, destined to live their life until its natural end.

Min Yoongi was a fool.

But that was before, and this? This is now. Right now he is with you, a beacon of hope.

Every moment longer spent in the kingdom of Avis is a moment closer to breaking the curse. And every moment with you is one more moment that Yoongi feels free. You make him forget his solitude; his mysterious role in the book; his burning jealousy of Kings and Queens, princes, and princesses.

You almost make him forget that he is nothing more than a drunkard’s son. The eagerness subsided not long after it came. He pulled away, turning his head to gaze into the burning flames of his fireplace.

“And what about you, Y/N?” He said, his heart beating more intensely. “Would you be better than a queen if you were mine?”

From the corner of his eye he saw a soft smile form on your lips. He could tell from your grip loosening in his hand that it was a formality and not endearment. You fumbled over your words, and pulled your hand away from his so that it could awkwardly lay in your lap.

It was your turn to look away, and you rest your hands at your elbows now as if to hug yourself.

“I think that would be nice, if it were possible…” You trailed off.

“But?” Yoongi’s prompt to continued elicited a pitiful sigh and a shake from your head.

“But it is just not possible, Yoongi. I couldn’t be yours.” You said exasperated.

Yoongi remained motionless; silence prompted you to continue.

“It’s not you, I promise!” You tried to say this reassuringly.

“Is it the prince?”

You reeled back, almost in shock. “Why would you say that?”

“Y/N, it is well known amongst the kingdom the relationship that you and the Prince have.”

“It’s not that serious, Yoongi.” You smiled, again to reassure him. Not that anything could reassure him though.

“But you have feelings for him, yes?”

“Well of course I do,” you scoffed as you spoke. “But Yoongi, you are also equally as precious to me. The moments I spend with you are wonderful!”

Yoongi appeared visibly confused.

“Then what reason do you have to not be with me?”

Your irritation was becoming more and more obvious, despite how levelheaded Yoongi still was.

You lifted your hands in the air and let them fall again. You shook your head, as if you had no better explanation.

You couldn’t contain your annoyance, though: “because I don’t want to be Yoongi!”

Shock flooded your face, and you tried to reach out immediately.

Yoongi cleared his throat, and began to stand. Before he could leave you grabbed his wrist to prompt him to stay. He sighed, sitting back down.

“Yoongi,” you tried to say again. “I love the things we do together. I want to hold your hand, and run my fingers through your hair when we kiss. I love it when you whisper sweet nothings to me.”

You took a deep breath.

“But Yoongi, I want to be single and be able to do this with the Prince as well. I want to play the field and figure out who I want to be with. Besides, there’s no harm in having fun, right?”

Gently, Yoongi removed your hand from his wrist. He stood up and allowed you to stand up with him. He frowned deeply before taking a couple steps back. You tried to back, reaching out to him, but he tore his gaze away from you.

When you got the hint, you shuffled awkwardly in place.

“I think you are brilliant, Y/N, and I quite enjoyed the times we spent together.” His speech became more formal and certainly more standoffish. “But I do not want to “play the field” as you put it. My love for you will not be shared by another man.”

You scoffed pettily this time. “I’m not an object to be shared amongst people, Yoongi!”

He turned and paced. “I do not love you because you’re an object, Y/N. I love you because you are a person that I want to be with. But I cannot be with you if you will be with the prince at the same time. I’m sorry Y/N.”

“Why is it so hard for you to let me do what I want?” You huffed.

“I AM letting you do what you want,” he emphasized, “that’s why whatever this is,” he gestured between the two of you, “needs to end. Y/N you are free to do whatever you want, but I do not want to be with you if you want to be with another man at the same time.”

Your face twisted up angrily, “fine. I see how it is.”

You moved to grab your things that you had set down upon entering, and Yoongi turned to the shelf he was nearest to. Fumbling with the bottles to give him some reprieve, he barely noticed you inching towards the door. Dejected, you opened the door to his cottage to see the beginning of a sunset. The warm glow casted a shadow on the edge of Yoongi’s clenched jaw.

For a moment you wondered if you were making the right decision to not commit. But Yoongi’s feelings for you were obviously conditional if he required you to make a decision this quickly.

“I won’t return, Yoongi.”

“I will miss you, Y/N,” he said with sadness at the back of his throat. “But we cannot be together in an uncommitted relationship. We are past the point of simple feelings.”

“You’re a fool, Yoongi. You can’t ask me to sacrifice my freedom.”

Yoongi just nodded his head before drinking from a glass bottle. “I know.”

When you realized that Yoongi would stand firm in his rejection, you turned on your heel down the steps of the cottage.

The door swung shut behind you and Yoongi was once again left alone. He let out an airy breath and smiled in disbelief. Was he too harsh?

No, he kept his cool and maintained his respect for you. Yoongi knew it was for the best for him to part ways with you, but it still pained him deep down inside.

With a loud crackle, he noticed that the last corner of Odella’s commissioned painting was going up in flames. Staring at the bright warmth of the fire, Yoongi knew that a chapter in his book had come to an end.

The infatuation that you felt for him would surely dissolve once you returned the Prince’s waiting arms. Yoongi sincerely hoped you would eventually commit to him and stand by Jin’s side. But for now, the sorcerer resigned himself to solitude once more.

He brought the ale in the bottle to his lips again; something to warm his bones. A gentle tear rolled down his face as he pulled a chair closer to the fire. Youwill be missed sorely, but he knows an uncommitted love will hurt more than your absence.

Maybe Min Yoongi wasn’t a fool after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

*Your POV*

“Who does that stupid sorcerer think he is?”

You muttered as you threw open the heavy door to your bedchamber. You cursed and mumbled your entire trip back to the castle and you had not been silent for two moments before you were furious at Min Yoongi all over again.

“He has a lot of gall to think he has any place to ask me to commit to a relationship! Like what kind of person gives someone an ultimatum like that? I’ve only known him for what, eight months?”

“Only known who for eight months?”

A voice came from the hallway and you realized that you had left the door ajar. Redness started to sneak its way up your neck at the thought of a passerby listening to you ranting and raving about your love interests.

“Jungkook?”

Ex love interest, that is.

It was surprising to see your lovable best friend leaning against the door frame of your room. Even more surprising was the fact that his new love interest was nowhere to be found.

“Where is Sora?” You asked after a brief embrace.

Jungkook looked out into the hallway then quickly shuffled into your room with a giddy smile on his face. He pulled out a little box from his pocket and your eyes widened in horror.

“What are you—”

“Dude, really?” He looked at you with a frank expression. “You really think there’s a ring in this box?”

Well…

He rolled his eyes at your hesitation to answer, and made a move to show you the contents. This little action you had just missed because you, instead of keeping your eyes on him, sat in a not-so-subtle huff on your bed. You heard the soft clap of the case being closed and felt the surface of the bed dipping under Jungkook’s weight.

“What’s going on, Y/N?”

When you glanced at him, his eyes were full of concern. He was brimming with curiosity but holding his tongue.

Wrestling with the question for a moment, you thought about the two men in your life.

Min Yoongi was a strong, reliable shoulder to lean on; his mellow demeaner provided you with genuine conversation about the deeper things in life. He made you care about your purpose in life and the formation of your mind.

But he was hot headed. Where his passion burned brightly, so did his aggression towards that which hinders it.

Kim Seokjin, however, was like a breath of fresh air. His squeaking laughter echoed through any room into your ears; the sound waves crashing like a melody into your ear.

But he was impulsive. Where his heart beats boldly, so does his impulsivity towards that which provokes it.

“Yoongi wants to date me.”

Jungkook’s eyes lit up at the blunt declaration. “That’s awesome! Why… are you… not… happy right now?” His smile wavered once he realized you had said that statement without a hint of emotion. Underlying what would normally be excitable words, was a tinge of melodrama. And he could already tell that this was going to be messy.

“He asked me—No. He demanded that I stop seeing Jin if I wanted to be in a relationship with him.”

“Yikes. That sounds super controlling, Y/N.”

“Exactly!” You shouted this with exasperation. “He basically said that our relationship has to come to an end because he’s not going to share me with Jin.”

“Well when you put it that way—”

“Like, I’m not an object that can or cannot be shared amongst people. If I want to play the field, he needs to understand that.”

“Y/N you need to—” Again, Jungkook was interrupted.

“I bet Jin wouldn’t mind if I wanted a loose relationship. I know this is like the 12th century for them but women can’t be controlled anymore.”

“Y/N get a grip!” Jungkook finally lost it and interrupted you.

“Excuse m—”

“Yes. Excuse you. You’re being a psychopath right now.” The look on your face was one of utter shock, but he ignored it. “Yoongi isn’t being controlling. He’s being reasonable. He’s asking you to be exclusive not demanding you never see Jin again.”

You were taken aback by Jungkook’s abrupt hit to your ego.

“Did he scream at you when you told him that you didn’t want to be exclusive?”

“Well, no but he—”

“Did he threaten you into submission?”

“No but the fact that he doesn’t want to be with me anymore just because I’m unsure about committing means that he must not care enough to prove himself.”

Jungkook flung his arms in the air and gave one last exasperated sigh before heading towards the door. The look on his face was one of disappointment. Such disappointment made your blood boil.

“The fact that he isn’t coercing you into being with him obviously means he cares about you. You’re just being spoiled rotten that he’s not groveling at your feet to be with you no matter what. Do you think the Prince is going to grovel at your feet despite wanting to be exclusive?”

With that, he slammed the door.

Who the fuck does he think he is.

Never has Jungkook shamed you so much. It was almost as if he was purposefully taking their side instead of yours.

Jungkook left a burning pit in your mind after his rebuttal of your feelings. So much so that you were going to find the answer to the question he left you with. You were going to prove to him how much of an understanding person Prince Jin is.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Jin’s POV

At the end of a luxurious bed, sat a deeply contemplative prince who ran his fingers along the lace stitching of the blanket. His mind has focused on the Kingdom of Avis, where he had resided for so long. Jin considered the people who lived under his command—the nobles, the commoners, the merchants alike. What would come of these people once the curse is lifted?

Would they magically transition into the modern world as if they had been there all along? Or will they land in a world that has no space for them?

What will become of him when the curse is broken? What role will Prince Jin play in the modern world without his crown?

These questions swirled around his head for a few more moments while he took in his surroundings. Deep curtains and golden accented furniture sprinkled the walls around him. The room he currently stayed in is not his original room; no, this was simply a room that was left empty upon the curse’s arrival. It only took a few years after being bound inside the book did the prince realize he could not stomach the satin, lace, and embellishments. Even now, looking at what would be considered underwhelming furnishings for a prince. The adornments almost blinded him as he thought about all the duties that came with the luxury he lives in.

The duties that came with being…

“… the King.” The word fell off his tongue in a choked whisper.

Though Seokjin is crowned at the end of the story, he never got comfortable calling himself that. No, the Prince-King never forgot about his father’s prevailing authority. What even is a king?

Is it the lace, satin and gold that adorns all the things he sees?

Or is it that gilded throne that the men in his bloodline have sat upon for centuries?

Seokjin always thought it was the man who did everything he could for the good of his kingdom. That was, until he saw it justified to follow his heart.

What is a king then?

*knock, knock, knock, knock*

The prince was taken from his contemplative state by the rhythmic noise of the distressed knocking.

“One moment!” He yelled as he straightened himself up in the mirror.

He worked a few fingers through his hair so that it was intentionally unkempt. Then he made sure that his clothes were hanging in a flattering manner.

“The kingly style is a look, but you gotta loosen things up a little bit man. Maybe undo a couple buttons.” Jungkook had said not too long ago.

The prince did not want to appear so reserved and aloof, but still wanted to look his best for whoever waited on the other side of the door.

*knock, knock*

“I’m coming!” He shouted, all but lunging to the door.

When he opened it, there you stood. Your face was red, eyes swollen and wet. It was a pitiful sight that made his heart wrench.

“Y/N… what are you doing here? Is everything alright?”

You nodded, inching closer into the doorway.

The prince took a couple steps back, letting you into the room. You didn’t go around him to flop on the bed like you normally would. No, you just inched a little closer staring him down with fire in your eyes.

“I just need someone right now…” You murmured, throwing your arms around his neck.

Jin’s hands wrapped around your back to hold you in a tight hug. The two of you stayed like this, silent in a comforting embrace, for a few minutes before you stepped away. You closed the door behind you and moved further into the room.

“What’s going on, my sweet?”

You sighed, “I’m just so confused with everything that’s going on lately.”

“Well, you know just as much as I do how to fix this curse.” He trailed off with a slight chuckle, equally as confused with that situation.

“No, that’s not what I’m talking about. Every time I see you my heart burns with desire for you. I love the time we spend together and everything that makes you, you.”

“This seems to be a pleasant confusion to be in.” He smiled, grabbing your hand and kissing it lightly. “I feel strongly about you too.”

“I know, and that’s the problem. I just don’t know what to do about this.”

Jin stood near you again, lifting a hand to carress your cheek with his thumb. AS if instinctively, you gently nuzzled your face into the warmth of his hand.

“What do you want to do about this?” He said in a breathy whisper.

“I want you to hold me, to treat me right. I want to feel the warmth of your touch on my skin..”

This sent a shiver down the prince’s spine and a blush crept up to his ears. The knowledge that his feelings were reciprocated made his heart flutter and burn.

“Where?” He whispered, his face moving closer to yours.

He watched your eyes scanning his face for any hint of doubt. When you found none, you smiled gently and closed your eyes.

“Everywhere.”

Then his mouth was on yours.

~~~~~~~~~~

You awoke to the sound of a faint rumbling noise. Blinking the sleep away from your eyes, you glanced outside for any proof of a thunderstorm. There was no flash of lightning nor was there the rhythmic sound of rain bursting onto the glass windows or their metal frames.

Blinking tightly again, you turned your head to glance at the bed you were laying in.

Mine.

It took a moment to register in your head that you had returned to your own room last night. Your face grew warm thinking about the events that transpired the night before. Better yet, it was all steamy. You felt like you really grew closer to the prince last night.

After calming down from any shenanigans you may have gotten up to, the two of you laid peacefully on his bed to talk to one another.

“What am I to you, Jin?”

“You mean much to me, Y/N,” he responded softly.

“I’m sure this isn’t normal, for you. Laying here with me like this.”

The prince chuckled. “No, nothing I’ve experienced in the last eight months is normal for me. But, I think I have finally gotten used to it. You’ve helped me adjust a lot.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” you said. You smiled gently at him. “I am glad to be here with you.”

The prince leaned into you, pressing a kiss at your forehead. He hummed, thinking deeply about something. You scanned his face, looking for any hints of frustration.

“I am thinking about what you said when you first came to my room this evening. You said you didn’t know what to do with the way you’re feeling. May I give you a suggestion?”

Curious, you nodded your head silently.

“Normally this would be out of my hands and someone else would be telling you this. But, I think that I have come to enjoy our time together a little more than I should say. I think it would bring me even greater joy if you were mine.”

His usually cheery voice had dropped and melted into a deeply a serious tone. He looked at you with such fondness in his eyes. The charm rolled off his tongue so delicately. His words were polished and refined like royalty. In this moment, you utterly understood how much of a prince he really is. Truly, he is a prince from a fairytale.

“And what if I don’t want to be yours, Jin?” You said grimly. “What if I’m not prepared for that yet?”

“Then I’ll wait for you to be ready.”

“What if I want to be with other people?”

“Then… I cannot stop you. But, I won’t lie and say that I won’t be wounded.” He paused for a moment. “Is that what you would like to do?”

Your answer was hesitant. Jin would still be hurt if I wanted to have an open relationship. But unlike Min Yoongi, it doesn’t seem like he will cast you aside so easily.

“I don’t know what I’ll want in the future, but I know I want you.”

You were brought out of your day dream by another rumble resonating through the walls of your room. Skeptically, you got out of bed and searched for your phone through the moonlight. After stumbling around for a frustrating moment, you were able to grab the device from a dresser.

The screen was bright in the dark, blinding you briefly. The time was only 3:30. Meaning you had only been asleep for a few hours.

Suddenly, your door creaked, as if a large draft was blowing in from the other side. You threw a robe on not knowing who would be awake at this hour. When you opened the door, you felt a gust of wind behind you, prompting you to go forward.

You walked for five minutes down the hallway, which was silent besides the occasional rumble of the walls. When you came to stop at the intersection of the other hallways, you took a moment to consider your surroundings.

Taking a left will lead you towards the maid quarters, kitchen, and the like. Going straight leads you to the ballroom, and foyer. And taking a right leads you towards the royal wing. This is where the royal family would have stayed. Currently, the Prince’s bedroom is one of the first down that way.

You took a right down the hallway, the light of a lamp guiding you. Soon you were in front of Jin’s door once more. You let a brief smile form on your lips before your attention was taken by another, now deeper, rumble coming from further down the hallway.

Curious, albeit alarmed, you continued on down towards the source of the sound. You passed multiple rooms, some you have entered and others you haven’t. When you reached the stained glass window at the end of the hallway, you realized that there was an unfamiliar path leading off to the left.

The Prince had never taken you down this far. And, you had spent much of your time in the library, the kitchen, or even just outside on the royal grounds.

Again, a gust of wind blew through your hair. Urging you to go down the hallway. Throwing caution to the wind, you let your feet drag you down the new path. Soon after proceeding, you felt that there was something odd about the corridor. It felt too long.

This was a once a high traffic area, you observed. The threads of the carpet had gone bare in some areas.

Now, as the historical carpet laid forgotten and coarse under the bottom of your bare feet, you wish you had waited until Jin was awake to take you.

The dimly lit lamp swayed to-and-fro in your hand, casting a dull, moving shadow across the corridor. The small sliver of a crescent was doing nothing to aide in your sight.

Once charming suits of armor now loomed over you as you continued on in search of something new. Each step closer to your unknown destination made a spine-chilling creak echo off the walls; this corridor is void of tapestries, and the fire in your lamp allows the shadows to jump out to you even more.

The light bounced off something straight ahead, a sign that perhaps you finally made it somewhere. You leaned your head back slightly; some number of weary steps lead you to…

A door?

Looking upward, you noticed at the arch of the wooden door there was a faded symbol: You could make out the faint edges of what looked to be a heart. You held your lamp higher above your head, and you confirmed that it was an incredibly broken heart.

A shiver ran down your spine as you caught a glimpse of a wet sheen running through the cracks adorning the heart. And you shook your head before you thought it was anything other than water.

With a shake of your head, you reached an unsteady hand towards the worn, bronze door handle. It gave way with barely a touch; the silence the door held as it slowly swung open left a dry feeling in your mouth.

Gulping audibly, you pressed forward into the room and noted the destroyed furniture. You began to tiptoe your way around the perimeter of the room, and you kept in mind the plethora of tattered dresses and clothes scattered along the floor.

You reached a bare wall that was cracked and decayed with a single spot left untouched.

A picture frame covered a decent portion of the wall in front of you. Stretching your hand out to grab ahold of the cover, you relished in the soft velvet between your fingers. You tugged at the fabric, getting an idea of where it had been hooked.

Immediately, a corner of the cover fell down. You grabbed firm and pulled the cover off the painting and away to the floor.

It hit the ground with a light thud, but there was enough weight to force a cloud of dust. Coughing, you covered your mouth and stepped back from the painting.

Your peer through the dim light onto the painting, trying to distinguish who it is. You stepped forward once again in order to see better. Raising the lamp, you inched your way up the body of the portrait.

When the light of the lamp met the head of the painted individual, you audibly gasped. Jerking backwards, the light in your lamp began to flutter. The flickering light obscured the painting, but you only needed a glance to know who it was.

You were frozen in your spot, the only thing moving is a shaky hand up towards the painting once more. When the light focused again, you found a fury of emotions welling up inside of you.

Standing there in faded glory was a painting of…

You?

No.

Princess Ariadne.

[lgbtqmanga]

New Releases Nov. 23, 2021

Cardcaptor Sakura Collector's Edition vol. 9 by CLAMP

Cardcaptor Sakura is one of the all-time classics of the magical girl genre, and the Collector's Edition will be the definitive version of the story, for both long-time fans and readers new to the story. The adventures of the plucky Sakura Kinomoto are as adorably thrilling as ever, as she tracks down the magical...

Clow Cards and plunges headlong into a world of sorcery beyond anything she could've imagined.

Harem Marriage vol. 11 by NON (digital only)

"You see, Miku... Your mommy's a powerful witch." 

Kita-Tsubame, the only city in Japan where polygamy (a.k.a. Harem Marriage) is legalized, is hosting a Harem Marrython! Ryu has his eye on a new bride by the name of Misuzu, a single mother who wins over Koharu with her genuine smile and love for her daughter... But behind that smile lies a dangerous past. Now, the Date family must race to determine whether their bride-to-be is a sinner or a saint!"

His Extra-Large, Ever-So-Lovely... vol. 1 by Omoimi (digital only)

Aoi Yamamoto is 20 years old. Determined to get his first girlfriend, he joined a Nihonshu Club...only to find it chock-full of men. Disappointed, Aoi overindulges, and is taken home by a fellow club member to recover. This club member is also a virgin, even though he's had many girlfriends, and when he shows Aoi why, well...Aoi finds he wants to try it out for himself.

Hitorijime Boyfriend by Memeco Arii

"EITHER YOU LET ME MAKE LOVE TO YOU, OR WE END OUR FRIENDSHIP AGAIN. WHAT'S IT GONNA BE?"

Before Masahiro and Kousuke's whirlwind romance in Hitorijime My Hero, there was Hitorijime Boyfriend—and now, the origin of one of manga's biggest franchises is finally revealed! Back in sixth grade, Kensuke had a falling out with his best friend Hasekura that still hurts three years later. Then, one day, Hasekura's suddenly back in Kensuke's life like nothing happened. What, exactly, is going on? And what will Kensuke do when Hasekura wants to take things to a whole other level...?

Hitorijime My Hero vol. 11 by Memeco Arii (early digital)

“You Can Do Whatever You Want to Me”

As they take the dive into “marriage mode,” Masahiro and Kousuke waste no time getting comfy as cohabitants. Just as their issues finally seem to be behind them, Kousuke’s mother disrupts their peace with a single remark: “There’s something we need to talk about.” Is the cat out of the bag…?!

I Think Our Son Is Gay vol. 2 by Okura

With her husband working abroad, mama Tomoko is in charge of raising their two precious sons back on the Aoyama ranch. Keeping her kids fed, clothed, and on schedule is all in a day's work, but Tomoko also watches over them with great love and care...and in the case of her eldest son Hiroki, who's doing a very bad job of keeping his sexuality a secret from his family, a big dose of bemusement. And now Hiroki might have another secret to keep! Lately he's been coming home from school talking enthusiastically about a certain boy, his classmate Daigo! With practically every other word out of her son's mouth being about Daigo, Tomoko can't help thinking Hiroki's crushing pretty hard on his friend!

Magical Girl Site vol. 16 by Kentaro Sato (final volume)

ON THE BRINK OF DESTRUCTION

Humanity has been turned into sperm and taken off planet, earth teeters on the edge of annihilation—and still, the Magical Girls fight on. Do they stand a chance against the tides of darkness or has the battle already been lost? The harrowing final volume of Magical Girl SITE!

My Androgynous Boyfriend vol. 3 by Tamekou

(ANDROGYNOUS) BOYS’ NIGHT!

It’s time for a sleepover! And not just any sleepover—it’s a sleepover at Kira’s gorgeous house. With super fancy food on the menu, luxurious skin care, and late night chats about love, a good time is guaranteed to be had by all. However, the real excitement begins the next morning, when Sasame trips and falls into the burly arms of a mysterious delivery person. Just who is this newcomer?

Puella Magi Madoka Magica: Wraith Arc vol. 1 by Magica Quartet, Hanokage

All the witches in the universe, past and future, may have disappeared, but in their place emotion-eating “wraiths” prey on humanity. The magical girls fight to protect Mitakihara City once more…

Restart After Coming Back Home by cocomi

The touching romance that inspired a hit live-action film!

Hotheaded Kozuka Mitsuomi left his home in the country for a sophisticated life in Tokyo. Unfortunately, at age 25, he’s fired from his job and returns home in disgrace. As he tries to rediscover himself, he meets Kumai Yamato, a man about his age who was adopted into his community while Mitsuomi was away. The sweet and even-tempered Yamato is hiding his own pain, and as the two men connect, they start a journey together.

School Zone Girls vol. 3 by Ningiyau

BAD GIRLS IN LOVE

Hiragi has finally escaped the attentions of her bubbly and boisterous classmate Utsugi…so why is the resulting peace and quiet so dang depressing? And why is Utsugi ignoring her in the first place? Meanwhile, thanks to Yatsude’s “help,” Rei is having bra troubles–and not long after, Kei’s bra suffers from the same mysterious ailment. Is anyone capable of behaving in this series?

Sugar Dog Life by Yoriko (digital only)

Sakuraba is a college student, though you'd never know it, with his short height and baby face. Certainly police officer Amazawa thought Sakuraba was a minor, and nearly booked him for being out too late after he was returning from a drinking party. But there's something oddly familiar about him, and the two strike up an odd relationship...

What Did You Eat Yesterday? vol. 17 by Fumi Yoshinaga

This slice-of-life series follows the ordinary lives of a middle-aged, gay couple and the ever-changing, delicious variety of homecooked meals they share.

Shiro and Kenji are now well past their youthful years, and with a stable relationship and a stable career for them both, what could possibly go wrong? But Kenji finds himself in a bind one evening after a few drinks with one of his hair salon regulars. Meanwhile, a mysterious and beautiful woman greets Shiro with a friendly smile on the street during their grocery shopping, and Shiro insists that he doesn’t know her.

[duskwood-legacies]

"Your Armageddon"

•Fandom: Duskwood

⚠️->Episodes 5-8 Spoiler!

•Pairing/Character: MC, MWAF (Micheal)

•Word Count: 1.1k

•Genre: Angst

•Trigger Warnings: brief mention of blood and self-hatred, mentions of death

•Summary: MC stands face to face with the place responsible for the legend that calls itself the avenger of sins. Turns out, she was just the final pawn in the MWAF’s wicked game.

-----

Fog strangled the forests of Duskwood in a thick grey, forbidding to let anyone gaze farther than their arms could reach. Wind forced branches to collide, wind that soon swirled into a cruel storm to leave nothing but heartless destruction in its path.

As the world seemed to be taken away by Armageddon, I stood with my feet like rooted to the ground. The raven carved into the wood was almost shielded from my vision. Almost.

“Our origin. It lies here.” A raspy, sand-paper like voice taunted my mind from behind. The unnerving sound chased the hairs on my arms and neck upwards, nausea creeping into my throat.

“Is that why you brought me here, Micheal?” My own heartbeat nearly deafened me.

“Do not call me by my name.”

I shivered as I captured the calm tone inside his words. People possessing such calmness within such madness. They were dangerous. By far beyond dangerous. Rain crashed down like cascades, perfecting the chaos menacing around us, flooding homes of animals and drowning out hopes.

“We are one.” Micheal spoke.

“We…?”

“We. Every Man Without A Face before me, every Man Without A Face to follow after me. We share the same memories of your sins, we share the same curse.” Micheal’s voice darkened with each word spoken.

“But— But this is just a legend-“

“Naive girl.” His calmness began to fade away into the depths of hatred.  “We are bound to this universe. We are the avengers for your sins. We are the justice. We are the misunderstood!”

I winced at the sudden loudening of his words. My veins pulsated with hot blood run cold, thoughts going numb with each passing dulled second. My airways tightened with an invisible rope swung around my neck.

“Ask MC.” Micheal’s voice bore into me “Ask. Ask! Ask what’s been haunting you!”

“Why?!” I shouted “Why Hannah?! Why Richy?! Why YOU?!”

I couldn’t see him, but I knew, I felt it. The sickening grin of success, securely hidden under his mask burned on my back, ill sensations diving into my spine.

“Jennifer!” Micheal pressed out, pained inside his neglected soul, relieved to say her name again. “Her death brought this curse upon me! Hannah and Richy watched her life cease from this world! They left her to die, allowed her murderer to run free!”

“They were only kids!” My shout matched a screech.

“Death knows no age!” A tree crashed into the ground behind us. The ominous loud thump hunted ravens out of their shelter, towards the one and only person their loyalty belongs to. My arms flung up and crossed in front of my head to protect my face. Micheal’s furious voice kept burning its way into my brain.

“Her death tore my life apart! Her death allowed the curse to seep into my cracked soul!”

“How is that possible?” I tried to mask my fright with half-hearted compassion.

“You don’t understand?! We were emotionally bound the strongest to those who fell victim to the cruelest of sins! We avenge our loved ones and protect those who can’t protect themselves!”

“By robbing lives?! You are committing sins yourself!”

“That is why we are the victims of our successors. This curse is Duskwood’s hell circle.”

Tears edged my eyes. Memories I couldn’t repress longer found their way back to torture my consciousness. The storm howled louder as the trees whipped into all directions with immeasurable violence. My knees started to feel light under the hectic of the unforgiving insanity those gone-by moments brought back to me.

“Do you feel the sting? The burn? The pain under your skin?” Micheal’s voice mixed psychopathy and lunacy as well as calmness and peace. With a weak spark of agitated success. “Do you hear their voices? Do you see their faces pleading you for help? Do you run from the guilt your sins have brought you? Do you see what monster you encouraged me to become?”

Thunder boomed through the fighting trees. I cried out in despair, broke under the suspense and agony he put me under as I bailed down onto my knees. My hands covered my ears, praying I’d somehow be able to shut his voice out before they reach my brain.

The sweet feelings of his achievement soothed Micheal’s wrath. His mind cleared as he saw his goal unfold in front of him like a dahlia in July.

The sound of branches breaking mixed with the loudness of rain, storm and thunder, becoming clearer and clearer the more Micheal stalked closer to me. I clutched my hands around my ears, with an intensity strong enough to make me hurt myself.

Micheal crouched down behind me. One of his hands grabbed my wrist and moved it away from my ear, easily fighting against the resistance I had attempted put up.

“Answer me, MC.”

I did. Day by day I ran from myself, hated when I saw my reflection, punched a mirror to shatters and watched my knuckles bleed until I could walk again. Every day the images of Richy would restrain my mind with shackles, guilt and helplessness charging and tackling me down the second the image unlocked their door.

“Crying. The silence of the sinners.” Micheal hummed. I didn’t notice I started sobbing.

“You mentioned Hannah and Richy… why me… why are you after me?”

“You have helped murderers. You willingly put people in danger for your own goals. You are powerfully bound to someone who has Duskwood’s blood inside their veins. You are the perfect victim. You are the final sin to separate me from my curse.”

My head pounded with distress. I pleaded for everything to be a nightmare, for the cold of the rain on my skin to be imagined, for the thunder in the sky to be a loud neighbor cutting into my dreams, for the storm to be a mask of my guilt.

The sentences resonated in my mind, bouncing and leaving a dull ache everywhere they touched my being. My parents weren’t from Duskwood. Neither of them had connections to the forgotten village within the lost forest.

My eyes went wide and a sudden inhale filled my lungs as realization came to me.

Jake.

Micheal yanked my head upward by my hair. A thunderbolt struck the tree in half, the spot scared with the raven splitting into two. Merciless heat of fire graced against my freezing skin, a high-pitched ringing consuming my ears. A cold metal blade pressed against my throat as I felt Micheal get closer to my ear one last time.

“This is your Armageddon, MC.”

-----

A/N: Hi!💕 This post was rather unplanned since I didn't want to post too much Angst, but I've had this idea for a while now and reading the story of @neptunee has given me so much motivation, I couldn't resist🤭🌿 I hope the stories don't share too much similarities, I promise if anything appears copied I didn't do it on full on purpose!

[omegaplus]

# 3,976

Option 30: self-titled (1997)

Nine Inch Nails. It’s what made me the industrialist I am today. Every major release minus Hesitation Marks (2013) and Add Violence (2017). Most singles, remixes, and guest appearances. Key Wax Trax and Invisible appearances. Many front pages, five t-shirts, three videos, and one live experience. It’s the one artist I have the most of. All things Ministry, Atari Teenage Riot, and Skinny Puppy have come very close, but it’s Nine Inch Nails that changed the course of my life. It all started when my cousin Criss and I accidentally found the “Closer” music video (‘94) on MTV and we were mesmerized. Friends enticed me to change allegiances from golden-era hip-hop to alternative. Raygun Magazine introduced me to David Carson if not for Trent Reznor’s front-page appearance. I even had some great summer experiences and major fall-outs revolving around their live performances. I’m at the point where I thought I knew everything about Nine Inch Nails and Trent Reznor - or so I thought - until I found @sheisthesisterofnight​, a Roman (read: real-deal Italian) goth-girl follower who is capital-O obsessed with him. She name-dropped Option 30, one of Reznor’s many musical involvements before Nine Inch Nails, and she’s the very reason why this post happened.

Reach further back than 1989′s Pretty Hate Machine. We’re talking about Slam Bamboo, The Innocent, Lucky Pierre, and even Cool Down Daddy. Of all the already-mentioned projects, I fell into the Option 30 rabbit hole and haven’t escaped since. Reznor got his start in the Mercer / Warren-stationed band when industrial had yet taken off in the states and synth-pop / new wave was globally present. Reznor was a product of those latter genres noting The Cure, Bauhaus, Adam Ant, Gary Numan, and (later on) Depeche Mode as some of his influences, so Option 30 could be considered his first musical endeavor. Guitarist / vocalist Timothy K. Smith would form The Edge with bassist Jim Nordstrom, drummer Tom Stein, and guitarist Dan Webb before using another local band UXB as a bridge before Smith himself, Nordstrom, Reznor and drummer Todd Nero came together for Option 30. From that point on, there wouldn’t be anything else Reznor would to do in life aside from being a janitor at a recording studio.

It’s forgiven that not many Nine Inch Nails fans would possess anything Option 30 hands-on as they only achieved local fame and no physical material ever enjoyed a major print run. It was only in 1997 that Shriek Records released a compilation album combining their Eighties live performances, original songs, covers, and a radio interview. Back then Reznor didn’t go through any major-label drama or personal turmoil stemming from loss and drug addiction. His ferocity and violent ideas didn’t exist yet to conceive what would be Nine Inch Nails formative years. No. You get the opposite. He’s affable, funny, and dare I say it…easy-going? During the Edinboro radio interview, his shoulders are free from burden. He jokes with the band and has a great time. It’s a far pitch from the Reznor of burning rage, frustration, depression, reckless abandon and on-stage destruction that everyone still holds on to. What you’ll have here is late-night pop-rock and native new-wave nods in its kindest form. 

The only live performance to be found opens up with the eponymous Icehouse cover, one of three to be exact. The next track is the last thing you’d expect Reznor to ever do: with “Time And Chance” it would be the one and only time Reznor would ever partake in reggae. He’s always been synonymous with industrial, so imagine that huge disparity between 1994′s The Downward Spiral and a piece-of-cake Marley-esque tune.

Re-visiting the alignment with new wave and synth-pop, Option 30 commit two more covers in Falco’s “Der Komissar” and Thompson Twins’ “Lies”. It seems that Reznor’s vocals misses the bullseye lacking that same punch found on the originals. It feels like the band isn’t performing at a small venue but instead ‘unwinding’ at a bar’s karaoke night during happy hour on Friday, but it’ll still win because Trent. Not to say that there aren’t any more originals. On the contrary, there’s plenty. Nothing else says pop than “Abomination” where basslines take precedent, the dash-beat “Just Out Enough To Be In” that’s heavy on guitar grooves, and the socially conscious “Equal Rights”. (Reznor would later take on politics on “Head Like A Hole”, 2007′s Year Zero and sporadically throughout the e.p. trilogy). 

One song specifically, “Old Habits Die Hard”, no doubt reminiscent of The Police’s “Message In A Bottle” (’79), is my favorite on the record hands-down. Maybe because it carries that late-Eighties Night Flight feel to it and that’s an experience I do the personal math for myself, so chances are no one would understand. Then again, one of Nine Inch Nails first-ever live performances was on Dance Party USA which also aired on the same network with Night Flight. The planets have lined up again, have they?

As a final, “Pandora’s Box” ends Option 30’s earliest retrospective on a good note with Timothy Smith on the mic-. Reznor simply opted out of vocal duties for the final track. He’d leave Option 30 in 1984 over lack of involvement to pursue other musical avenues (most likely with The Innocent), and the group still had a life of its’ own until the end of the decade releasing two more compilations of live performances, covers, and originals. Smith would change trajectory switching up rock for fusion, jazz and funk; creating projects large and small and oftentimes with his own family. By then, Reznor had already started Nine Inch Nails releasing Pretty Hate Machine, “Down In It”, and “Head Like A Hole” (all 1989) featuring Richard Patrick who’d later begin Filter. He’d find himself in the middle of the greatest industrial convergence having been associated with the Wax Trax label, Ministry, and even Pigface while being embroiled with the TVT label over creative control. All that before creating a legacy with The Downward Spiral, Marilyn Manson, motion picture soundtracks with Atticus Ross, Coil and David Bowie worship, How To Destroy Angels, Apple, induction to The Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame, and endless nominations, awards, and achievements. Sadly, Smith passed away on Halloween 2009, leaving a legacy that’s been posted on Bandcamp all at no cost and still lives on through his brothers and children.

We’re now up to the e.p. trilogy (2016-2018) and Ghosts V & VI (2020). Trent Reznor still has plenty more to give and it’s only going forward from here, yet I keep coming back to Option 30 where it all started for him. Maybe it’s the feel of the Eighties pop-rock sound that I’ve lived through, having that soul of what I experienced during my childhood, or getting a kick at how approachable Reznor was. This album has gotten at least 20 full spins / plays from me and it never gets tiring. I can thank my Roman goth follower for this one, and only she’ll tell me what else she knows that I don’t. 

[generallypo]

in all sincerity, kim dokja makes me happy and he deserves to be so too :^(

incoherent yelling and sobbing under the cut. these fEELINGS will not be contained aaauuunnghhh. 

------

anyway i binge-read all 500+ chapters of ORV this week and i honest to god feel bad for this -- completely! fictional! aghhhh -- guy. in case you haven’t figured it out, the following is some spoilerly shit

i went in expecting a fun, brainless power trip fantasy for dudes with an isekai addiction. instead, it turns out ORV is actually a gigantic, self-deprecating prank on the entire genre itself. kdj plays more into the sad -- if high-functioning-- clown trope than the sexy, edgy, chuuni bastard type i was prepared to laugh at. there were -- gasp! -- female characters with personalities! parents (aka ADULTS who act like ADULTS) who actually survive and feature prominently! adorable children! a real sexy, edgy bastard! a power trio with amazing fashion! sexual tension and bickering! friendship! life and death bonding! 

*breathes in deeply* fouND FAMILYYYYYYY.

like, yeah, the plot around the first few arcs seems a little aimless, but the buildup is worth. the world-building is pretty decent. there’s discernible effort put into the fight scenes, and i can appreciate that. but -- but! what i stayed for were the characters -- namely, the fantastic OT3 of KDJ, HSY, and YJH -- who come together despite their initial rivalries and end up saving each other’s asses, like, every other day. granted, the other characters don’t get as much focus, and they do fall into certain character tropes.. 

but a trope done well is nothing i would gripe about. every significant character in ORV has a coherent, and more importantly, respectful take on their respective trope. maybe it’s because sing-shong is actually a married couple, but all the interactions between even minor characters are a convincing blend of awkward rambling, suggestive humor, sharp remarks, and casual banter. in other words, this cast of mostly working adults (plus a teen and two kids) talks like working adults. the relationships built throughout the story are, frankly, some of most realistic of its genre. sing-shong has managed to craft a dynamic that undoubtedly brims with fluffy fondness all around, but also drips with sarcastic tension, with unspoken urgency, with a wariness that softens into sincerity over the course of many, many chapters. it’s the kind of progression that makes even stock characters read like more than just the 2-bit villain or comrade or love interest. here, we have relationships both straightforward and not, strained or otherwise, romantically-oriented as well as decidedly the opposite -- and then numerous others scattered along the spectrum with the freedom to shift either way. 

it’s also an interesting point of note that our MC kdj actually does not end up with a stated romantic partner, much less a conventional heteroromantic harem. he gets teased about that fact from time to time, but it’s with less of the sleazy shonen locker room humor one would expect and more of the good-natured ribbing you’d find among friends or that one especially nosy auntie at the yearly family reunion. kdj is a grown ass man. in the background, i applaud his maturity, and he handles all the prodding like a champ. 

so instead of finding and fulfilling his horny, he builds himself a wealth of loving family. yeah, there are beautiful men and women around him. yeah, they unequivocally adore him. but they’re also adults, and they have priorities, too -- which are not so much finding a way to bang kdj’s brains out and more so simply keeping the damn guy alive. this is truly not ‘oblivious mc with his thirsty, sex kitten harem’. it just so happens that a guy proves himself to be unflinchingly gentle and capable in an apocalyptic setting despite his broken self-esteem, and lots of people find that attractive, romantically and platonically. 

it.. kinda makes sense? he’s a hard worker, thoughtful, and good with kids. kdj is the kind of guy you know would make a reliable partner, and anybody with eyes can plainly see and appreciate that. 

and it’s not that our MC’s a total brick wall. in fact, it’s likely the opposite, and he’s just too darned repressed to admit it. from what has been implied, kdj does indeed recognize and accept love, or at least a primitive concept of it. i like to imagine that the kind of love that he ends up seeking out simply manifests itself more easily as acceptance and safety, as warmth and a home of people to return to every day. even better, the people who surround him know this, and they give him exactly that. it’s refreshing, and honestly, really sweet.

(as a side note, i really, really do appreciate the cosmic bi energy radiating off of kdj, who canonically earns the title of being loved by all and is all but in name married to yjh and hsy. he also respects women and small children and honestly anyone who isn’t total scum to him or his family. i respect that.)

but the happy stuff aside, you know it it just ain’t ORV without the generous screaming dollop of angst. admittedly, there’s self-sacrifice, injury, lonesome wandering, more sacrifice, some epic fighting, reunion and confrontation. all of it is a lot to digest, sure, but never does it feel entirely hopeless, or truly, truly heart-clenching. ORV, up until the final act, is a mostly light read. you relax in your chair, thinking that nothing beyond this point can disturb you. 

yeah fucking right.

------

and then the beginning of the end arrives. when the squad finally break through to their ‘ending’, the scene that kind of breaks me is the reveal of the Most Ancient Dream. it ties so much thematically into the little tidbits that we get of kdj’s past, and it though it feels like almost a joke that the source of the goddamn apocalypse is a kid with bruises smeared across his skinny ass body -- it’s such a pathetic picture that it’s kinda poetic, actually. you’re left mystified but somewhat convinced, like a math problem explained halfway through. this.. child.. is a villain somehow, isn’t he?

and then 999th turn uriel speaks up, and she. just. hugs him. 

[[You are this universe’s most powerless existence, aren’t you.]] 

that. that gets me. kdj’s reaction immediately upon this revelation? absolute murder. seeing him essentially self-destruct upon realizing that all these people he’s surrounded himself with -- some who continuously proclaim their loyalty and affection for him throughout their journey, some who suffered eons of war and loss and trauma because of his existence -- not only forgive his younger self but smother him with unconditional acceptance and love is stifling, is too vulnerable and exposed and he simply can’t cope -- it’s so telling of his true mentality, of his crippling insecurity and crumpled sense of self-worth. kim dokja is a liar, through and through, so much that he fails, or perhaps refuses, to comprehend the veracity of others’ kindness and love towards himself. 

by some miracle, the events at the end of the world somehow resolve.. or so it seems. there is a departing train, a liberated team of ex-gods, and a child rousing from his slumber. in the aftermath, i am left shaking. somehow, despite the ending having been (happily?) reached, there’s still another chapter ahead. what is this witchcraft?

------

and then ah, yes -- the epilogue arc. i teetered on the edge of being critical for a little bit there -- is that display of deus ex machina, of sad, self-sacrificing nobility a bit too egregious to be acceptable? is this some wild last let-me-yank-this-outta-my-ass plot twist to drag out the chapter count? i sincerely thought that the arc before it would have been the finale. i was wrong. thank god.

anyways, as an answer to the above: no, and no. i stake my firm claim on the belief that the epilogue arc was meticulously planned out well in advance of its release, confusing and time-warpy as it is. i liked it. tremendously. even if it entirely invalidates all of kdj’s supposed development (”haha lol yeah sure i won’t sacrifice myself or anything anymore guys don’t worry about me” -- KDJ, at some point because he’s a lying rat bastard). actually, our beloved MC disappears for a large chunk of this arc, and i think it’s great. in his absence, the other characters not only go absolutely fucking nuts, but they have to figure out this new problem on their own, even if the lure of peaceful complacency in the newly saved Korea might convince them otherwise. 

and then the whole time paradox thing comes around. yjh goes to space, hsy saves the only life she can, and kdj grows up. the crew waits, holding onto their hope even if it bleeds them dry. sing-shong does a damn good job of illustrating their fraying calm, their lurking madness, the unseen but pervasive depression that seeps in from kdj’s absence. the kids lose their father, lhs and jhw lose their reliable leader figure, ysa loses a best friend and confidant, lsk -- as distant as she pretends to be from her son -- loses her only child. and then there’s hsy and yjh , who are essentially bereft of the other half of their existences. their pain is palpable, is grounded in the hopeless, gnawing frustration of an utterly meaningless victory. emotionally, ORV hits all the right -- if agonizing -- beats.

however, a story can’t sustain itself just through its pathos. i’m happy to say that ORV doesn’t drop the ball after the first milestone, and after all the hurt, the characters do leap straight back into action. even better, the plot holes actually do get patches, and the poetic cycle of writer, protagonist, and reader comes full circle by making use of all those supposedly throwaway characters from the myriad world lines. 

at the end of the road, there is a distinct sense of unity, of a delicate but undeniable cohesion to the world lines and their origins. sing-shong lets us guess a little here at the finish, but there’s just enough information to feel hopeful. maybe there never had been a definite start -- or finish -- to the story of kdj company, and... that’s okay. everybody ends up where they were meant to be, where they fought and struggled to reach. it’s.. almost like a happily ever after, if we’re allowed to dream of that.

------

now, i realize, this was all an orchestrated maneuver.

i’ll take it.

to me, all of this work sounds like someone put some serious thought into this behemoth of a plot. it cements the entire original premise of the story. it suggests -- but never explicitly confirms! -- the possibility that breaking free of the cycle is possible through the exact same system that sustains it. it’s terribly interesting -- and inspirational! with all the dramatic revelations and life-threatening scenarios  and the cast’s resigned acceptance of them that essentially make up ORV’s entire mood, there’s still that last hint of rebellious and righteous anger that lights up the whole damn nebula. it’s like the kdj company blasting away at the heavens just to yell into the nether: we’re not looking for the happy end, but the free one. stay alive.

it’s subtle, and yet it’s such an emotional gut punch. i came away with the most ruinous, frustrating, bittersweet sense of longing in ages. i pined. for these fictional darlings. god, i am weak.

so. yeah. ORV is pretty good. flawed, but ambitious and impressively thought out.  i’m stoked that the webtoon is making pretty good progress, even if it’ll take an eternity and a half to meet that monstrous chapter count. i’m still gonna follow it. hell yeah. 

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(by the way the idea that secretive plotter and co are literally gonna take care of and raise baby kdj and spoil him and be the best friggin family a kid could ever want does things to me. protect him. he’s suffered too much. let at least one worldline’s version of him know happiness. and actually, aLL OF THEM DESERVE DOMESTIC BLISS TOGETHER IN A BIG OL MANSION WITH SUN AND FRESH AIR AND TENDER FAMILY MOMENTS UGH)

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and there you have it, folks. you made it to the end. in the far, far distance, i’m cheering you on and crying my eyes out in gratitude. thanks for tuning in!

[featherwurm]

I had an odd dream the other night about 'The Fuggies' - A forgotten piece of late 80s/early 90s media designed to push toys in the ‘magical girl’ and ‘colorful horse’ genres which only managed to air for one season and had less merchandise released than originally intended. Despite it’s colorful protagonists and easily marketable dolls/action figures, pets, ships, weapons, and so on, it was pulled due to outcry of its unusually dark, dramatic, and queer nature.

Here's some more of the pitch:

Setting:

Some far-future space opera. Our protagonists pilot their ship (think star-trek exterior, bio-sphere interior) across the universe searching for the (highly merchandiseable) artifacts that will help to restore their desecrated home planet and the remaining small factions of the human race while seeking to find out why such destruction and devastation were caused (the extent of which is only hinted at to start) and bringing those that did it to justice (though it’s not entirely clear the source, our protagonists seem to have someone or something they blame). Humans have mastered bio-engineering to a degree that life-long companions are made specifically to be bonded to their human partner, they serve as both tech and buddy.

Our protagonists, purported paragons of humankind, have been selected to wield powerful abilities of transformation, granting them improved strength, stamina, and endurance, as well as color-coded armor and weapons. The origins and natures of these weapons and abilities is not clear at the start (they are referred to simply with the callout “(Color) Bio-Activate” and a transformation catalyzed through the Fuggies), and may come with great a great price… within the biosphere are great fungal masses (appearing similar to large toadstools) coordinated to the colors of those that use them. When severely injured, the members of this team are able to enter a stasis period within these fungal masses, healing all of their wounds. It is slowly revealed that this may, in fact, be simply storing memories and personality then killing and cloning these individuals to keep them alive, furthering them for some unknown purpose (and raising questions of consciousness and the self).

The technology our protagonists rely on is very solar-punk in its styling (and would have been a surprisingly early entry in the genre, purely by going for that late 80s early 90s ecological ‘wokeness’ that defined a lot of media at the time, but successfully conveying the idea of a high tech future balanced with biology and nature) – with a lot of emphasis on ecological balance. There’s still room for a lot of shiny chrome and sleek machinery, but plants, soft robots, and other bio-tech balance out harsh edges and geometric forms.

This future is one of incredible biotech as each protagonist is coordinated with...

The Fuggies:

Fuggies are cute, intelligent, special bio-engineered companions that serve as assistance to their human companion. Half fish, half puppy, and able to transform into a ‘ride-able’ form with their partner’s transformation that is quite similar to a horse with scales and a ferocious, stern appearance. In their cute, smaller form they serve as a pda, partner, puppy, and friend. They match the colors of their person, and their personality may be similar, but they have their own unique quirks and identity, generally their person’s pushed to an even further extreme (often meaning their human partner has to deal with their own issues in talking to their Fuggie). They are sentient, sapient, and capable of speech. They are partners for life.

The toy line featured brush-able "ears" and tails on the molded vinyl fuggies, as well as a metal-fleck sheen to their scales, which had special symbols only revealed with warm water. Future lines would have had further gimmicks like being transparent, glow in the dark, battle accessories, babies, etc. merchandised through the ongoing plot. While physically the individuals looked somewhat different in the cartoon, the toy-line simply featured re-colors of the same mould or minimal differences between each.

[life-rewritten]

1000 Stars Ep 1-6; Tian and the Consequences of past mistakes.

This has been long coming. I’ve just been very weirdly conflicted with writing about this show because I tend to find speaking about it for hours more appropriate. But because I didn’t have time to create a video focused on this topic, I decided to write it out the way I know how. First of all this has been just an insane experience, this show is... well how  can I describe it?  It’s incredible, and not like the oh this is really good incredible, I mean like it’s mind blowing how outstanding this show is, the fact that this show is the first Thai bl show of 2021 that was original is blowing my freaking mind, it’s put a standard to everything else, it’s standard is excellence, there is no mistake, no errors, no issues with this show unless you’re someone who loves to find something wrong about something. This  show is so inspirational, representative, deep, and important in this genre. First of all it’s a unique type of storyline, it has meta everywhere, it’s incredibly filled with dimensional characters that are so human and real and make mistakes but learn and grow, and it has an incredible realistic love story brewing. Like what else can you say about this show? The cinematography? Excellent. The directing. Even more great. The acting; So incredible. Everyone who has joined to make this show mean something, mean something to me. Because this show is now my hiding place, an escape from the realities of the world, and the grim aspects of life, a show that makes me learn about the value of life, the importance of love, and just the inspiration of finding meaning to who you are and why you should be here. This show is so incredibly written and planned with so much effort, direction and energy. If GMMTV can keep on with this energy with all their other BLS this year is going to the biggest, greatest breakthrough for this genre. This show makes my Fridays. And I wanted to first start with that because it’s hard to write thoughts about this show, because there’s so much to flesh out and explain, every scene, every dialogue, every thing means something to the overall story brewing, to the subtext hidden, to the themes and messages the show is trying to teach. Everything can be explained. And I think that’s so incredible.

 So what do we have in this essay then, we have a focus on Tian, and his actions from Ep 1-6, it’s incredible how our little sunshine is finally going through self discovery and finding who he’s meant to be, also it’s just amazing to see him find his soulmate through all of this; who just means so much to him and influences all of his greatest things in life. However this show toes between the line of a really sweet love story, with some humour, some laughter, some cheesiness and flirts but also a darker, sadder and realistic portrayal of some issues in the world, and also some parts of the human psyche that represents or relates to us in some way. Whether this show is about how easily depression can make us fall into this well of self hate, and self destruction, or make us forget the value of the people around us and the value of even our selves, or this show is a message and warning to consequences of recklessness, corruption and selfishness, this show has so much to say and show whilst still presenting it in a format that’s a BL; that’s still hopeful and beautiful and sweet. And how Backaof has gone and done this is incredible to me. This essay is going to be breaking down each of the hints and clues that point to the serious aspects of the show, what are we to expect? Why is this a repeated theme in the show, what does it mean for our characters, what does it mean for us? So Let’s break down the foreshadowings and clues to  the plot twists in the show that’s upcoming and how Backaof has laid a very meta plan for each of these clues to take place.

 Tian and The Consequences of The Past

Mostly episode 5 really is the episode where these clues are hidden in subtext. So much is troubling immediately we begin the episode. We start of with a realisation that we’re being bamboozled, the show is hiding information from us, it’s twisting our perspectives on certain storylines and there’s still truths that we need to unveil to piece together. The most important connection of this story is the demise and removal of Torfun. In fact her accident is the catalyst that causes this story to begin, she’s a guide to Tian to lead him to this new renewal of life, and purpose but also she’s the family and friend to many people who have been touched by her presence, she’s also the person connected to our love interest. In so many ways her demise means a lot to the plot of the story. And it’s shocking to think that there could be more to it. It’s not just this plot that is a convenience to the story, it means more, it’s connected to every single thread of the plot, connected to the love story brewing, because it’s her heart that’s being confused at first with Tian’s feelings, it’s her presence that’s being emphasised on with Tian’s guilt of replacing her, it’s her words that’s being valued by Tian to want to be better and do more for himself, but it’s her mystery that keeps us all on edge including Tian who is slowly unveiling memories that he doesn’t want to accept. It seems like deep down Tian knows something is of about Torfun’s accident, it’s like he can’t rest, he can’t help shake when he questions his flashbacks, his memories, there’s this desperate need for him to attempt to make it up to her, to ensure she’s happy and rested with her wishes coming through, it’s such a desperate need it drives him to self sacrificial methods, he completely leaves his own needs and care for her goal to be realised. 

And it is sweet but Tian is also someone who is incredibly hurt, and destructive, he’s been so pushed into this mindset of thinking he’s not worth it, his life is not worth it, his presence is not worth it. For so long he has been shackled by the idea of deth (wrong spelling on purpose) following him all around, one day he was meant to leave the world, unexpectedly, no hopes, no dreams, no freedom from this and so he became numb to this premise of life, of value, of self care. Tian is incredibly reckless and self destructive because he lost the meaning of why he should be self protective and self loving. And it breaks my heart everytime we have to relive or even remember his state of mind in the past episodes from 1-4. Now this begins to change once he settles and realises he has meaning, and he’s needed and he’s worthy. It starts to change when he realises he wants to be protected by the man he loves, it starts to change when he’s found something to protect, his new family, friends and lover. It starts to change when he also wants to make a difference and be of importance. So Tian is finally going through this self discovery of Purpose, Love and Happiness, which are all connected to this meaning of life, that he wanted to uncover when he read Torfun’s diary at first. But as much as he is on this path, he still has remnants of his mistakes and his past mindsets that prevent him from moving forward, it eats him up with guilt, it paralyses him with fear that one day he could lose it all, but also it makes him run into the claws of danger and deth time and time again. So Episode 5 really is a map of all the dangers that Tian has to get through, connected to his own faults, flaws and development needed to be unpacked to get to his destiny/fate with Pupha. These worries and foreshadowings show a grueling yet important journey to overcome, he needs to overcome his self doubt, his self hate, his numbness to life and his guilt and shame of the past. So Let’s analyse and break down these clues.

Consequences of Recklessness

Episode 5 starts with immediately a shift, it’s a plot twist to see that Tian didn’t faint. It’s odd for me to be watching this scene in the beginning and screaming Faint please faint, why isn’t he fainting. Immediately he stands up assures Tul he’ll be okay and then proceeds to discuss about his car as his baby and pride, you know it’s a problem. The emphasis of Tul feeling uneasy brings up this worry that Tian is about to attract trouble through his lack of care for himself, and his lack of value for others and things connected to him. This is the moment we’re hit with the wave of realisation that Tian may have to deal with the consequences of his recklessness, and that means that this event is connected to the source of everything the one thing we still have questions about; Torfun and her accident. And it’s a terrifying lesson don’t get me wrong, but it’s like Tian to be reckless, he’s reckless about everything, his life, his heart, his self, he’s just constantly putting himself at risk. 

Immediately he opens his mouth and pushes for an illegal car race, we know there’s going to be consequences, this is connected to how powerful he is, (they can close the road and cover up the truth), this is connected to how corrupted his background is as we’ve seen in episode 1, how little they value others for themselves, it’s connected to the ease and way he can be privileged and thrive of chaos and get unscathed whilst people like Torfun end up victims used and forgotten. Now I’m not saying Tian is the actual person who took Torfun’s life, although he does end up in possession of her heart, he doesn’t drive and I do believe he wasn’t the one in the car, maybe in the passenger seat next to the driver, or maybe hitting another car from behind that ran into her, or Tul managing to get him out of that situation before he could be the one who caused it. But it’s still his words, his actions that lead to this accident, and that’s a terrifying fact both he and the audience has to deal with.  And this is connected of the value of life and people and how this can be lost with recklessness, and corruption  and selfishness. 

Consequences of Evasion of the Truth

Tian literally had to evade and run away from this world to go to the village to find the real meaning but it doesn’t erase his past, he has to deal with that, and I do think he will think he’s the one who is the person at fault mostly because he’s starting to get flashbacks of that event, he knows he’s hiding a secret and It’s more than just the fact that Torfun gave him his heart, it’s because deep down he’s scared he was involved in that in a different way. And this leads to Pupha and his secrets, the way he was actively trying to conceal the truth in episode 5, because of his fear of losing it all, and hurting the person he loves. The fact he’s hiding secrets means that those secrets will come to light and we do see an example of this a bit less painful when Longtae stumbles on Torfun’s diary, this is still going to be happening because Pupha still needs to know the truth and the way Tian has covered up the secrets and truth for so long means there’s consequences to hiding the truth. 

This is also another theme of the show, connected to the fact that Torfun’s accident is being covered up as just that, connected to the fact that maybe Tian’s father and mother tried so hard to evade the truth and move on and pretend nothing happened, by selling the car and forcing Tian to not think about looking for her. That’s why it’s worrying because the parents are obstacles and in my opinion are also one of the hints episode 5 leaves for us the audience to notice. Already it’s uncommon to hear that Tian’s mum isn’t as worried about him in the village, when her love for him in episode 1 is suffocating and protective, she won’t be okay with his choice to be reckless, to push his heart, to come to a place with distance, and so it’s a red flag.

Consequences of Corruption and Power

It’s a warning, his parents are connected to a plot twist, they’re going to be an obstacle because they represent right now Corruption and Power. And the consequences of corruption and power removing the value of life is also shown in episode 6 when we see our villain Sakda. In fact it’s because Tian tries to evade Corruption that we see the value of all the villagers earnings, work, life, burn so cruelly at the end. Sakda’s cruelty has no bounds, he doesn’t take the people seriously; he sees them as liabilities, obstacles, unimportant, he doesn’t value them just like Torfun was also unvalued by her aunt because of money/recklessness and also probably by Tian’s family because of corruption and power. It’s all about the darkness of privilege; the very lesson Tian is learning about and also growing away from. Episode 1 shows the stain of corruption in Tian’s life, how it suffocates him and makes him feel unsafe and unhappy in his own home, how it shrouds him in the dark compared to Torfun who found light in Pu Phan Dao. And that wine stain on his chest that carves the same length and shape as his scar is a reminder that he’s been stained and affected by that Corruption. And that’s why he tries to escape and start anew. But there are consequences and lessons of forgiveness he needs to learn, a way to relearn about his own meaning and value but also a way forgive himself and Torfun to find peace with the truth unfolded. Okay so a bit dark but this is a theme, the way corruption and the rich and power don’t care about the value of life, even in Pu Phan dao, Phupha is tagged with protecting the home, the trees, the forest because they have value, but the rich come and poach and cut down the source for the people, they misuse and scam the people because they don’t know or treat what they do as valuable. That’s why Tian as he learns about value finds a way to help the villagers regain the value of their tea leaves and more, he adds innovation and a creativity to everything to make the villagers be strong enough to know their worth and yet the rich and the corrupt manage to burn it all down in episode 6. The theme is recurring; the question is how do we come out of it with forgiveness, peace and understanding.

 Consequences of Carelessness

I can talk about this theme and the value of life linked to this show for ever. But there’s more shown in episode 6 that hints at the worrying obstacles we still have to face. There’s Social media mentioned, Tian repeatedly warns Tul to not take a photo of him, he lies to Nam about his facebook and he finds Torfun through facebook in episode 1. He’s so desperate to hide his past and his truth that maybe that’s how some of the truth will be unveiled. Social media can be easily tracked if a person has it out for him, but also Tul takes a picture with him that holds such a warning to it, it just seems important to notice as well. Because it could be Sakda who unveils it but he’s also connected to so much more. 

His power also puts Phupha at risk, because Phupha is the one tasked with preventing these type of influences hurting the village. Phupha’s job requires his life to be at risk for the value of others, the people he deems family, and the place he deems home so his job is going to also lead to him being at odds with Sakda and his minions. Especially since we have seen how violent they can get, and in episode 1 we are shown a bunch of people who are currently a danger to the forest with one escaping and boss connected to them. That’s Sakda. So if Phupha has to stop Sakda his life may be in danger as he risks it for the village but also mostly Tian who is the target of them now. 

Again that’s the consequences of Tian’s recklessness because even though it was good for him to defend the village and do what’s right, he was warned repeatedly what it could bring. And it brings Phupha’s life in danger. Especially the foreshadowing with him running in episode 6 to bring out a symbol of Phupha’s presence in his life. His actions have unfortunately led to the endangerment of the one person he wants to protect more than himself. The one person who truly shows him the value of life. That’s why episode 5 jokinly repeats also warningly that Tian is a trouble magnet, it’s a joke because it seems him being reckless and attracted to trouble is not important because with his status and privilege he can come out unscathed, however it can lead to catalysts of drama and more pain in the future. Hence again the consequence of recklessness. Tian acts before he thinks, it’s a good and bad quality, first it leads to him being brave, being determined, being creative with how he tackles solutions, it comes to him immediately at the same time packed with his self destructive mindset, at times it leads to him causing trouble and harm. This is why I say another theme to his self acceptance journey is forgiveness this is not just him learning about the best things in life, it’s also about him embracing the mistakes of his past. Because it’s only if he learns, will he become his best self, the one that loves everything about himself, and the one that can move forward and heal past scars. Also because I’m sure people are like what about Torfun our victim essentially, I think Torfun is definitely making Tian also feel this uneasiness and determination to unfold the truth for peace, she gives him permission in the episode 1 for him to take over her heart, to take care of Pupha but probably also to take care of the village. I think she’s at peace but you know we’ll see if the show mentions her again in a different manner.

Consequences of Insecurity

But this brings us to the next obstacle mentioned in Episode 5: Torfun vs Tian. Head vs Heart. Especially also connected to Phupha. From episode 3-6, Pupha and Tian have given their hearts to each other, in subtext it’s really obvious they both know how they feel however it’s always distracted by insecurities, logic, and questions in their minds. There’s a lot in their heads they have to deal with that makes it hard for them to confess. Although Tian is basically still willing to fight over those thoughts and choose him and show him he’s open. This is why I don’t think Tian fully thinks it’s him behind Torfun’s incident, mostly because if he truly thought he was behind the car he won’t let Phupha near him. He won’t forgive himself to even let love in. So I think he has inklings something is not right but he pushes down and isn’t fully aware of what happened that night. But apart from those worries, there’s more things he and Pupha deal with that is hinted in episode 5 and we see is preventing both of them  just coming out and saying what they feel.

The things in Pupha’s head vs heart

The first worry which he kind of removes in episode 6 is distance. Phupha says it in episode 5, he doesn’t want to be the reason for why Tian stays in the village and not return back for his degree in college. He doesn’t want to hold Tian back though he’s worried that him returning means he won’t come back to the village. Infact Tian returning home has been Pupha’s biggest fear since he first met him, it’s why he teased him harshly each time he saw him pre ep 3, because he didn’t want him to leave so he always angered him and tested to see how determined he wanted to stay. Because of this looming distance/long distance relationship that could occur in the future, Pupha shies away with his other insecurities and prevents himself from confessing rather keeping their relationship in this unknown stage than facing the reality of what they are. He doesn’t want to get in the way of Tian’s potential, it’s obvious Tian is finding Purpose in the village as a teacher and helper but for Pupha where people of the village dream of going to the city to get their dreams, and live a better comfortable life it’s better for Tian who’s frail, and smart to go back and unveil his potential by staying in college for however long he has to.

 But also Pupha notices Tian is secretive. This is why although it seems Tian is open to him and obviously flirting and hinting at a way to elevate their status, Pupha shies away because he has insecurities, one he still doesn’t trust how Tian sees him, there’s this idea of him being different to Tian because of age, personality, and maybe even sexuality, and he worries about all of that, what if Tian is more matched with others his age, and finds more happiness and comfort with people who speak like him and act like him, what if Tian hates strict and moody people, what if Tian isn’t queer? These are the insecurities he battles with in his head even though his heart thinks Tian may reciprocate.

The things in Tian’s head vs heart

And we know the big one for Tian is Torfun. She’s Pupha’s prized, valuable connection, someone who really meant the world to him, someone he and the village is struggling to let go of. Tian feels like an impostor holding her heart, it fills him with guilt, shame, worry about him not being worthy enough to replace her, but also to help them deal with her demise. And For Pupha especially who doesn’t have a lot of family members; who cherishes every single thing as like the most important valuable thing, he doesn’t want him to be hurt with that realisation. He doesn’t want him to compare Tian with Torfun, he doesn’t want to always see the hurt in his eyes when he looks at Tian and misses her.  

It’s also the fact he’s been lying for so long, and so that worries him even more as days go by, because he lied (as his subconscious of Pupha told him in the dream In episode 4) it makes it worse, he should have just told them immediately to take away the betrayal and the hurt. So this is all also in his head. Before he accepted his sexuality he also questioned if it was her who loved Pupha not him. Because sometimes people say things to him that makes him feel again like she’s there controlling him, or changing him to become like her etc. It’s hard for him to not think there might be a chance he likes Pupha because it’s her not him. However the most important one is the guilt of holding her heart, of basically stealing her life, he basically took the guy she loves, the job she loves, the place she loves and replaced her. So he’s not really particularly comfortable with that truth; in fact this is the reason why he’s desperate to make her wish her come through to give her some sort of validation and make her still have meaning. To also ask for her forgiveness for being the one who took her heart. That’s why I think if he’s any way close to her demise as in the accident the guilt and determination to run to the cliff and just beg her for forgiveness is even more desperate and intense. That’s what I’m dreading. Because the journey to the cliff isn’t an easy one, and if Tian desperate and reckless runs away to go make it happen what happens to his already overworked heart?

Consequences of Deth

And that’s the last thing we really have to overcome in the show, the closeness and link to deth both our characters have, like it’s insane, Phupha’s life is constantly in danger, and episode 5 reminds us of the violence of people like Sakda he has to face. Meanwhile Tian is just close to it because of a chance of his rejection, luckily episode 6 reintroduces his medicine and now Nam knows the truth, his heart may finally be taken care of well, but there’s still a chance that he’s pushed it too far, there’s still a connection to his numbness of life, and his self destructive way he sees himself when he’s filled with guilt and pain. So there’s still this tangle with this, which is worrying as we saw in episode 5, his heart is pushed so many times over the limit and in episode 6 even more when he runs into the fire forgoing his own safety yet again. So that is important to note. However I think this is just probably going to be more of a warning for Pupha though Tian’s life is also endangered by Sakda since he’s a target so it’s both, they’re both again in danger of sacrificing themselves to help the other. This doesn’t mean a sad ending I don’t even worry about that, but it’s an obstacle, it’s a consequence of the themes of the show, and another lesson for Tian to learn and grow from.

The themes of Identity, Self love, Purpose and Renewal of the meaning of life all are lessons that Mr Tian needs to learn as he discovers himself through the show. However Tian’s past doesn’t just disappear as we see mechanisms and mindsets constructed from his past environment, situations and hurts can show up as consequences, but this doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world for our couple, in fact it’s opposite, it’s a healing message of embracing your past and healing your scars, and becoming a better person knowing you’re still worth everything good despite your mistakes if you’re willing to grow and change. Knowing actions have consequences but you have a chance to learn from them and grow. It’s a self acceptance and self-forgiving journey, to embracing your fate and finding the meaning of life again. So yes in this show there’s a reason for why the characters act the way they do, there’s a reason why Tian constantly puts himself in harms way, a reason for why Pupha is the opposite and is strict and filled with order to prevent recklessness, to protect the value of people, life and more. Both Tian and Pupha come into each other’s lives to offer perspective, to help each other grow, with making Pupha embrace vulnerability and weakness of himself, and to make Tian embrace meaning of life and purpose and love; all the things he thought he had lost. So yeh Episode 5 was a rollercoaster, I kept on smiling but then worrying each time below the surface another clue popped up showing we still have a lot of obstacles to deal with. But if we don’t have these obstacles then these real life messages and call outs won’t matter, we need to see the price of privilege, we need to see the consequence of recklessness, the selfishness of corruption and how it can bring  harm to others, we need to know why it’s important to value your self, and know your truth, and fall in love, So we’ll be fine, this show is incredible already and it deals with everything well. No matter what theories we have Backaof has a full map for how everything ties together in his head, how Tian deals with his guilt, how he confronts his parents, how he chooses Pupha overall, we’ll see it all unfold. It’d be a journey, sometimes painful but we’ll come out smiling. Anyway here’s the analysis of the consequences and dangers in the show. Let’s discuss? What are your theories? How do you feel about the show? Let me know. Ciao.

[strwberrytae]

Beyond Desire | 03

→ pairing: taehyung x reader x ft. dr. min yoongi → rating: m for mature - sexual content and graphic content → genre: drama / smut / angst → words: 15.2k → disclaimer/warning: this is a piece of fiction based off of the fifty shades of grey series. this is not a parody. there are mentions of strong dominant and submissive lifestyles. there are also various psychological issues that are addressed throughout the series; including anxiety, self-destruction, blood, panic attacks, childhood abuse and self-harm. this is a work of fiction and not to be taken as a promotion of the series, fifty shades of grey. this is an original piece of work. edit is created by me. enjoy! feedback is greatly appreciated.

→ chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 [series in progress - please read previous chapters]

→ summary: it’s never easy falling for your best friend when you have so much history. it’s especially difficult when you both share the same sexual desires and lifestyle. taehyung is a dominant CEO of a well known company in Seoul and you are an up and coming editor. while both of you come from a troubled and dark past, you lean on each other for support and comfort. what happens as your feelings blossom and grow over the years? what happens when you fear taehyung may be falling in love with someone else? will you confess your feelings or remain in the shadows?

The drive to Joon Jae’s apartment is torturous. It seems he needs this as badly as you do. You giggle as he weaves through the night traffic. You pull up to a tall building similar to Taehyung’s apartment building, but a lesser version. It’s a luxury building that you certainly couldn’t afford. Before you can really soak it all in, the two of you hurry inside and get on the elevator. Joon Jae types in a code on the touchpad inside the door of the elevator and it begins moving. His apartment is on the twentieth floor and you feel like the ride is taking forever. The higher you climb, the faster your heart races. Subconsciously, you bite your lip in anticipation.

“Fuck this,” Joon Jae says suddenly under his breath. He leans over to push the emergency stop button and the elevator comes to a screeching halt. He pulls you into his arms and holds the back of your neck. It’s not certain if it’s the wine or the adrenaline, but you feel like he’s spinning in front of you - a blurred image yet so clear. 

“I want to taste you,” he says in an enticing voice. Oh. You inhale sharply as he pushes you against the wall. The elevator shifts a little, making your heart jump, but you know there’s nothing to panic over. He grazes his lips across your jawline and down your delicate neck. You moan at the warmth as it sends beautiful chills across your skin. His hand travels to one of your breasts and caresses it hungrily. You can feel his finger dance across the fabric to beckon your nipples to erect for him. They vigorously abide. He smiles against your skin with satisfaction. He trails kisses along your neck and grazes his tongue on the most sensitive areas. Your body reflexes and bucks forward when he touches your sweet spot, pressing into his body. So needy for more, you graze your leg between his and feel his erection straining against his pants. He grabs your chin and lifts it up to meet his eyes.

“Not yet, honey. Soon,” he says. Dissatisfied with his answer, you groan. You want him now. As if he hears your thoughts, he slowly glides down your body. He kneels before you and lifts your dress then pauses.

“The next time we go out, no underwear,” he says as a demand. He grabs your panties by the waistband and tugs them down to your knees with force. The swift motion makes you even more wet than you already were. He moans at the sight of you.

“You’re so hot, Y/N,” he says. Your name sounds like ecstasy coming from him. Joon Jae hovers his mouth over your center. His warm breath makes you twitch. You want to push forward but you stop yourself to avoid punishment – refusal of what he’s about to do. He waits as if expecting you to move; testing you. He rewards you in turn. You feel his tongue lap over your folds, so you bite your lip to keep you crying out. He repeats the motion pushing you closer to the edge. He moves in circular motions to focus on your clit, making it harder for you to keep quiet. You start panting. Your skin is on fire. It feels so good and you don’t know how much more you can take before you explode. Just as you think you've reached your limit, he thrusts two long fingers inside of you. You cry out in pleasure.

“If you don’t shut the hell up, I’ll stop,” he demands in a dominant tone. Obediently, you instantly silence yourself. His command made you unbelievably wet. His thrusts quicken and your body quivers.

“Come for me,” he demands. Your body obeys very willingly and you unravel at his words, exploding around him. Your lip is throbbing from biting so hard on it to keep from making a sound. He stands before you with a devilish grin. He holds his fingers in front of your mouth, just barely touching them. Your juice coats them beautifully as a little string stretches between his fingers. His eyes are dark with lust.

“I want you to know how good you taste. Open your mouth,” he commands. You obey and allow him to ease his fingers in your mouth. Although you can’t deny that you know how you taste, at this moment it’s better, sweet even. He smiles at you, satisfied with your obedience. Your cheeks are  flushed with heat.

“Good girl.” He reaches over to push the button and the elevator roars to life. He comes back to you and pulls down your underwear more. Gracefully, you step out of them and he discards them into his pocket with satisfaction on his face. He puts his arm around your waist and waits patiently for the doors to open. When they do, you’re welcomed to his masculine apartment. It’s large, but not too large. There’s a small view of the Seoul skyline in the back. The details of the apartment are hard to make out because of the darkness. He grabs your hand and takes you straight back to his bedroom.

“I’ll give you the tour tomorrow. Right now, I’m going to fuck you,” he says, already answering the question in your head as you speed down the hall after kicking off your shoes. Your insides quiver at the thought.

His room is subtle and intense, just like him. The walls are dark blue and a king sized bed with four posts reaching the ceiling around them. You become eager as you think about what those posts could be used for. He closes the door behind you and he turns on the lights, then dims them to a more romantic setting. 

“Take off your clothes,” he commands in a low voice. You can hear how impatient he is but only because he is just as eager as you. You’re not overly confident in your body, but you’re assuming he wants a show. You just hope you don’t disappoint. Slowly, you unzip your white and black polka dot dress and let it fall onto the floor. You're left in just your black lace bra. While watching his eyes, you reach back and unbuckle the strap. The bra gracefully falls to the floor. Now, you stand naked before him. He absorbs your presence. Your breasts seem to please him immensely as he stares at them. You can’t help but analyze his thoughts on the appearance of your body as he looks you over. It’s been an obsession of yours to please others who see you. Your insecurities lie with the scars all over your body - the reminders of your past. He walks closer to you and strokes your cheek sweetly.

“You have a beautiful body,” he whispers. You look into his brown eyes and see sincerity. He’s much taller than you, so you reach up on your toes and kiss him softly on the lips.

“Can I undress you,” you whisper against his lips. He nods and allows you. First, you remove his suit jacket, revealing the white shirt that looks delicious on him. Your heart races with each button that you unravel. You slide his shirt over his shoulders and discover that he’s muscular – very muscular. His skin is toned and sunkissed. Oh, how desperately you want to kiss his skin. Observing his beauty, you skim your hands across his chest and feel that his heart is racing too. To satisfy your eagerness, you trail down to his pants and remove his belt. When you unbutton him and unzip his pants, his erection pushes forward. No underwear. Such a bold move, you think. It salutes you, enticing you. He’s definitely well endowed. It’s beautiful. You look up at him, silently asking permission to taste him. He groans.

“I won’t stop you,” he says. His words make you lick your lips and slowly dip down to your knees. you pull his pants down. You take him into your mouth, all of him at once. He groans with pleasure as your muscles adjust around him. He runs his fingers through your hair and pulls back your head with a fistful of hair in his hand.

“I want to see you,” he says. Looking him in the eyes, you pull him in and out of your mouth. Your tongue dances in circles around him hungrily - making sure not to lose eye contact. You pull him out enough to leave the tip in your mouth and you suck on it delicately. This drives him crazy. He pulls you up and throws you on the bed.

“I want to cum inside of you,” he says. His impatience makes you smile to yourself. There’s other places that you would love for him to cum on, but you keep those ideas to yourself for the time being. You watch him as he walks over to his nightstand. His body is so perfect. You could easily watch him all day. He retrieves a foil packet and rips it open with his teeth. He slides the condom on and walks over to you like a predator stalking his prey. You push yourself up on your elbows to slide backwards as he climbs over top of you. He slides his legs between yours, hovering over your entrance.

“Y/N, are you sure I have to wear this? I want to feel you...all of you,” he says in a silky voice. You smile sheepishly and shake your head.

“Hard limit,” you say as a reminder. He opens his mouth in protest but changes his mind. Instead, he crashes into your mouth, claiming you with his tongue. You moan against his mouth. Before you can process the motion, he thrusts himself inside of you. you cry out loud. It’s been so long and there’s so much of you. His entrance yet was still easy enough as you were incredibly wet and ready for him. He continues his thrusts and you quickly adjust to his size. 

“Fuck,” he cries out. you dig your nails into his back. The pleasure is almost unbearable. Your body already craves release again. He pulls up to sit before you. He bends your knees and stretches your legs to the side in a butterfly motion. He thrusts into you as you lay wide open before him. He grabs your hips to deepen his thrusts. You can’t take it anymore. You want to come but you wait for his command.

“Please Joon Jae. Tell me,” you beg. He smirks at you.

“Tell you what,” he demands.

“Please Joon Jae. I want to come,” you beg. He slides his arm under you and hovers over top of you. His other hand remains on your hip to maintain his deep thrusts. He whispers in your ear.

“Come for me then,” he commands. Instantly, your body convulses around him; crying out his name as your climax continues. Joon Jae follows with two sharp thrusts and explodes inside of you, finding his release. He collapses on top of you, both of you covered in sweat.

“Fuck, N/N,” he breathes against your shoulder. He pulls out and rolls onto his side, then discards the condom and pulls you close to him.

“I want to sleep like this,” he whispers into your ear.

“Okay,” is all you say; too tired to say more. You lay there, completely exhausted, and sated; thus, you  easily drift into a deep sleep.

The next morning, you wake up to an empty bed. You slowly stir, trying to gather your composure. It seems that you haven’t slept that well in ages. Sitting up on your elbow, you run your hand through your hair. You're still naked but wrapped in a white sheet. Now that you can see, you take in the décor of the room. There’s a bathroom within the room, neat and clean. The walls only hold photographs of landscapes, different cities perhaps. There’s a dark-colored dresser and matching cedar chest. There aren’t many decorations in the room. It’s very simplistic and masculine.

What time is it? The sun is shining, but not too bright. You reach over to grab your phone on the nightstand beside your side of the bed. 7:34am. Thank God I didn’t oversleep. You completely forgot to set an alarm last night. Your mind was elsewhere. As scenes from last night replay through your head, you smile. Your body responds as well. Last night was absolutely amazing and you want many more like it.

You see that there are three texts from Taehyung respectfully received spaciously through the night.

Text you in the morning.

I need to see you tomorrow. There’s something I need to tell you.

Do you have anything to wear tomorrow? How is he treating you?

You shake your head as you look through the texts. These came from in the middle of the night. you know he must have woken up from a nightmare as he always does. He always texts you frantically in the middle of the night. You can’t help but to feel guilty for not responding.

“Good morning,” Joon Jae says from the doorway. He’s leaning against the wall, watching you. All that he’s wearing are pajama bottoms that hang low on his waist. In the daylight, you get a better look at his chiseled physique. He looks like he just walked out of a magazine.

“Hi,” you whisper with a smile. You turn the display off your phone and set back down on the table. Joon Jae slowly walks up to the foot of the bed.

“What are you doing,” he asks.

“Checking the time,” you half-lie. “I have to be at work at nine,” He smirks at you.

“Then we have plenty of time then,” he says. He looks at you hungrily and rips the sheet off the bed, leaving you exposed. Joon Jae pulls a condom out of his pocket and puts the corner in his mouth. He slides his pants down his legs and his erection springs free. Your instantly eyes become dark with lust. He’s so full of himself and he has every right to be and you admire his awareness of how hot he is. Not to mention he’s already this incredibly hard for you. He rips the packet open and slides it onto himself. Crawling on top of the bed and as he does, you lay flat as he hovers above you. He teases your mouth by lightly grazing them with his. Instead of giving you a kiss, he travels down to your breasts, taking one into his hand, the other into his mouth. Sucking on the nipple as if nourishing himself.

You gasp at the touch. Your skin already feels like it’s on fire. He takes your nipple between his teeth and gently pulls on it, making you cry out with pleasure. He looks at you with a grin.

“What’s your safe word,” he asks between bites. Sheepishly, you bite your lip, thinking of a good word for the two of you. Every partner needs a special safe word. How silly would it be to use the same word with each partner. No, it has to be unique. He groans as he thrusts into you, making your mind go blank. Naturally, you moan loudly.

“N/N, you need a word because I’m about to fuck you senseless. I need to know your limit. Now give me a word,” he demands. His dominance makes you clench around him. So filled with excitement, you hum, trying to regain your thoughts. Suddenly, the word hits you.

“Baklava,” you purr. He smirks.

“Perfect,” he says. As promised, he begins pounding his hips against you. Your chests are touching each other as he holds you against him. You wrap your arms around his neck, beckoning him to push deeper. He abides and thrusts into you so hard, you throw your head back against the bed as ecstasy runs through you. He increases the rhythm and you hear a low roar in his throat. You're almost there. So close, so soon. Just the way his pelvis rubs against your clit as he hits that tender spot inside of you - it’s too good.

“Tell me that you’re mine,” he breathes into your ear; much like a growl.

“I’m yours,” you murmur between each thrust. Your words unhinge him, which tips you over the edge. Your bodies let go, shattering with each final thrust. Your body feels rejuvenated yet numb all at once. You've missed this feeling. Joon Jae smiles into your neck and plants a kiss on it. He leans up on his elbow and moves the hair out of your face.

“You are intoxicating, N/N, you know that?” He kisses you, leaving you speechless. He gets off of you and holds out his hand.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he beckons. You crawl out of bed and follow him to his bathroom where he intimately washes you.

Joon Jae left the bathroom when you were finished to get dressed for work. Neatly set out on the bathroom sink is a new toothbrush, toothpaste, and soap. He notices you observing them curiously.

“Those are for you to keep here. I expect that you’ll be spending the night often,” he explains from the doorway. Oh. Well this is new. You've never had your own travel kit already provided for you before. He must do this quite often – that and he must have anticipated you accepting his offer. You frown at the thought but continue to get ready. Something about the idea of him doing this for various women just didn’t sit right with you. Then again, so does Taehyung but...he’s not yours. 

Starting to run late, you realize you need to be at work in a half an hour and it’ll take you fifteen minutes in traffic to get there. You get dressed in the dress you wore the night before and toss your wet hair up in a neat bun. You recall leaving a black blazer at work, so you can easily slip that on to make this outfit more professional. Regret fills you as you wish you had more time to prepare for last night, or at least have left after Joon Jae fell asleep. You pinch your cheeks to add some color to them and apply some lip gloss from your bag. You don’t look your best, but it will do until you get to work.

You walk out of his bedroom to head for the door. Thanks to the morning light, you take in his apartment now that you can see it. It strangely reminds you of Taehyung’s apartment but not quite the same. The walls are white and it’s decorated minimally – the occasional plant here, a photograph there, a table, a couch. The apartment definitely screams “a man lives here”. The bedroom is the only part that’s colorful. Joon Jae greets you at the door as you gaze at his decor.

“Ready,” he asks. you simply nod and leave as he followed.

When you arrive at Kim Publishing, Joon Jae kisses you before you get the chance to open the door. Naturally, you can’t help but to smile.

You say your goodbyes and you watch his luxury car as it drives off with speed. Before his departure, you never discussed making future plans, but you know you’ll hear from him soon; at least that’s what your heart tells you. Gingerly, you walk inside and you're greeted warmly by a random coworker.

“Hi, N/N! Oh. Wow. That dress is adorable,” she compliments. Embarrassed and beyond self-conscious that this was yesterday’s dress, you blush and thank her. You hurry upstairs before too many other people see you in this dress. It’s not even that it was your work outfit or something, which it wasn’t. It was the dress you changed into before leaving late at night. So of course anyone who saw you would know that wherever you left, you stayed the night there. Ugh how embarrassing… Not only that, but it’s not exactly a work appropriate outfit.

As expected, Jisoo is waiting for you with your daily cup of coffee. Iced Americano. Just a little bit of sugar to cut through the rich bitterness of the espresso. Just enough to make it the most delicious remedy to ensure energy throughout the day. She gives you a look that you know is judgmental. Although you’re in a rush to hide in your office, you take the glass with a smile of satisfaction that any caffeine addict would understand.

“Good morning, N/N.”

“Good morning and thank you,” you replied with a soft, angelic tone. She can easily see the satisfaction through your facial expressions.

“Your nine o’clock is in your office,” she says professionally. Taking you out of your daze, you arch your eyebrow. I don’t have a nine o’clock meeting... Maybe it’s Seokjin, your thoughts soar as you wonder if your boss scheduled a meeting that you forgot because of your little rendezvous last night. Unsure of what to expect, you walk into your office and freeze in motion.

“Hello, Y/N,” Taehyung says. His voice is so nonchalant yet there seems to be an iciness behind his tone. He’s leaning back on your desk casually. He’s wearing a black suit with a grey tie. Naturally, he looks amazing as always. His presence surprises you but this isn’t exactly uncommon for you to arrive at work and he’s waiting for you. Typically, this only occurs when he needs something personal or something is wrong. Although, considering that you just spent the night with a man not-so-familiar to your very Dominant best friend, it’s quite clear as to why he’s in your office right now.

“Hi, Taehyung,” you say as your resume your glide as if nothing happened; closing the door behind you. As gracefully as possible, you walk over to your desk to set down your coffee and go over to your coat rack to put on your black blazer that you recalled leaving there before. You feel a thousand times better having it on. Now you feel a little more confident and much less self-conscious with this completion to your ensemble.

“You didn’t text me back,” is all he says. His voice has devilishly smooth undertones that mean nothing to him but everything to you. He knows he’s coming across as very Dominant right now and he knows that you’re naturally Submissive. But he also doesn’t know that you’ve learned how to control your Submissive side around him over the years. It allows you to seem unfaltered by his presence. As you walk back over to your desk, you can see that he hasn’t gotten much sleep. Bags under his eyes and the slight paleness to his skin tells you this. You furrow your brow with concern. Immediately, you want to ask how his night was, but you know changing the subject would be of no use. With defeat, you sigh as you sit your coffee down on your desk.

“I know. I’m sorry. I was…preoccupied,” you say with a timid voice; your submission peaking through. He’s facing you and instantly, concern appears on his face.

“You slept with him last night,” he asks with disbelief. As if already being scolded, submission consumes you so all you can do is nod your head nervously.

“We signed our contracts at dinner. Everything happened so fast, Taehyung. I wanted to text you... I...I’m really sorry, Taehyung.” He runs his fingers through his long, dark hair. He looks as if he’s lost for words. He paces over to your office window.

“Please say something,” you plead. The silence is deafening. He turns to you with kindness in his eyes.

“Are you alright,” he asks in such a soothing tone. He walks over to you to close the space between you.

“Yes, of course,” you say a bit more eagerly. Taehyung’s dominance withered away in an instant which makes you feel so much more at ease. Otherwise, you’d find yourself in a difficult position...

“He didn’t hurt you,” he asks simply. With doe eyes, you shake your head.

“We just had sex…twice,” you blush; obviously knowing that you deserve to be embarrassed because of your words but you can’t help but to feel a little cheeky. He raises his eyebrow at you.

“So, he’s okay with your contract,” he asks with only a slight pause. Taehyung is very protective over your contracts – or you in other words. After a couple of occasions of your Dominants getting out of hand with you in the past, he sat down with you and made you write down your hard limits - boundaries. He explained to you that most Doms are going to have roughly the same contract. His contract is certainly different from any others. Yours, however, is very similar to his. With the amount of trauma that you’ve been through during your lives, neither of you can risk getting hurt again. You don’t know what kind of permanent emotional damage it may cause. Although, once he approved your contract and classified it as ready, you made an alteration – his section. He doesn’t know that he’s in your contract. Your Dominants never understood your relationship with Taehyung. Every man is intimidated by him. They have every right to be. They always get so jealous when you spend time with him or even mention him. So, you had to make it very clear, from the beginning, that your relationship is to be understood.

“He was a bit surprised by it, but he signed it,” you say.

“Good.” He starts pacing again and you start to sense that something’s wrong.

“You said that there was something you wanted to tell me? When you texted me this morning,” you ask. He stops at the window and pauses abruptly. Your eyes watch him as you remain next to your desk and he walks towards your direction. You have no idea what it could be but his sudden change in stance puts you on edge. He turns around and walks to the other chairs in front of your desk. Following suit, you sit in the chair next to him. He looks out the window; avoiding something.

“Taehyung, what is it,” you ask in a more stern voice. Now you can’t help but to worry. Is he sick? Has something happened to his parents? Did something happen to the company? He looks up at you with uncertainty in his eyes.

“I’ve met someone,” he says in a somber tone. Why so somber… You swallow hard as your heart drops into your stomach. Your world of disillusion came tumbling down in a single sentence. You know that he’s not talking about a new Submissive. The way that he said this holds another meaning. Unable to speak, you stare at him. You can slowly see worry and doubt flood his eyes. There’s no choice but to drag yourself out of your void.

“What’s her name,” you ask, almost choking on your words.

“Yuri. Im Yuri,” he says. Im Yuri. Her name is like acid in your ears and magic on his tongue. Her name even sounds perfect. It sounds like someone that’s perfect for him. You haven’t even met her and you just feel this delicate presence about her - it intimidates you. Your heart is racing but slowing down all at the same time. All you can do is nod slowly and begin fidgeting with your fingers. Breathe, N/N. Breathe. Just fucking breathe. You can’t have a break down in front of him. As best as you can, you strain to smile in the most sincere way possible.

“That’s great, Taehyung. Really great,” you say softly. “Tell me about her. How did you meet,” you say in a soft voice.

“N/N. We don’t have to talk about this,” he says sympathetically. Why is he saying it like that? Is it because he knows of your feelings or because of our friendship? What does this mean for our friendship? He reaches over and takes your hand, holding it on your lap. You look at your hands fighting back the urge to cry. Perhaps it’s because he knows how much your anxiety sets in at times like these. Not necessarily that he’s in a new relationship but because this means that things will change drastically between your relationship soon. The relationship that you two have is so sacred as you’re both dependent on each other - given your past. So, it’s not so much that he pities you but he knows what this means for both of you. 

“It’s fine. Tell me,” you say, although you really don’t want to know. It pains him that you won’t look his way but he complies with your request.

“I met her during an interview for the Seoul University student paper since I’m giving a commencement speech to the graduating class,” you nod; remembering him telling you about his speech. “She was actually filling in for someone else.”

“Lucky for you,” you joke half-heartedly. He pauses, not getting your joke.

“Continue, please,” you say as you realize he’s being serious. He takes a breath, clearly nervous deep within.

“She’s not like the others,” he tells you. Why is he being so defensive? He’s acting like a child trying to ask permission for something. He’s tip-toeing around the subject. You sigh softly to yourself. He has every right to be this way as this isn’t just anyone. Taehyung doesn’t date, for various reasons. You know he can see right through you and he knows this is bothering you. 

“What did she major in,” you ask, trying to get him to open up more.

“Modern Korean Literature. Same major as you were in college. She’s…actually a lot like you,” he says with slight hesitation. You look at him, confused by his statement.

“That’s…different,” you say more so as a question. That’s typically not his reasoning for dating a woman. Not exactly saying that his reason for dating this woman but...you know. Kim Taehyung has a type – a very. specific. type. He always chooses slender, pale, brunettes with medium to full sized lips, average breasts, and very submissive - very unlike you. Submissive, yes, but not physically the same. His type reminded him of his mother. It’s very Freudian of him, but there was a logical reason. He loved his mother and she died when he was four. There’s an attachment there that never went away. He wasn’t in love with her, but he was very fond of her.

Everyone has a different way of coping with trauma. Taehyung’s way is centered around power and control. He was powerless when he was a child. Now, he can set the rules and release his demons in a way that’s pleasurable to him and his Submissives. Of course, you don’t judge or chastise him for his actions. Actually, you admire him for what he’s able to do. For you, you can’t take control of your pain. Instead, you want pain inflicted on you. You want to be controlled and powerless. You want to be taken care of. Some people may call you sadists, but to you two, you’re just coping.

“Taehyung…” you start to speak but you’re unable to say anything else. There’s no words. Perhaps you need time to process.

“I want you to meet her,” he says abruptly before letting you gather your thoughts.

“Oh…um...I-I don’t...”

“This Saturday. My mother is having a family dinner. She’s asked me to bring Yuri. She spent the night with me last night and mother barged into the apartment this morning. I’m sure she’ll be contacting you soon to tell you about the dinner.” His words came at you a mile a minute. There was no time whatsoever to process any of it but one phrase in particular caught your attention. You narrow your eyes at him. Did he just say that she spent the night? Now, you’re pissed. You stand and look down at him.

“You get bent out of shape because I spent the night with Joon Jae but you were spending the night with a girl you just met? That’s bullshit,” you say with your hands in fists by your side; digging your nails into the palm of your hands. Unfortunately, you keep them long for this reason - nervous twitch. Taehyung stands before you to tower you; clearly a Dominant move. His facial expression has turned serious in an instant.

“I’m not at risk to be put in a dangerous situation with a woman. You on the other hand, given your past experience, are very vulnerable, Y/N. I won’t be called a hypocrite when all I’m doing is looking out for you,” he says in an assertive, authoritative voice. It only makes you dig your nails in further. Your blood is boiling. Hypocrisy is one of your biggest pet peeves but perhaps there’s a subconscious reason why you’re venting your anger right now.

“Well maybe you don’t need you to look out for me anymore! I have someone now and so do you! I’m so sick of you breathing down my neck all the time! You’re not my father, nor are you my boyfriend or Dominant.” He looks at you wide-eyed. His eyes are dark and furious. He opens his mouth to say something but something catches his eye. Taehyung looks down in horror.

“Y/N, stop! Your hands,” he exclaims but not too loud to cause alarm outside of the office. The veins in your arms are pulsing as your grip is so insanely harsh. You open your hands as you see they’re trembling and covered in blood. He quickly grabs them and pulls a clean handkerchief from his jacket. He wraps them as calmly as possible, staining the cloth with your blood without a care about them.

“Jesus, N/N. You have to stop doing that,” he says. His voice is much softer as you watch him take care of your hands with deep concern. Naturally, your eyes swell with tears as you were already trying desperately to hold them back but it was no use. You pull your hands out of his grasp in a snapping motion.

“Get out,” you demand. He looks at you with disbelief.

“Y/N, I’m not going anywhere. Let me take you to the hospital,” he says sternly but with a hint of begging behind it.

“I can take care of myself,” you say softly yet harsh through silent tears as they fall down your face and your vision is blurred. He stands there, asserting his position. It’s clear he doesn’t want to give up so easily.

“Go!” Your voice carries throughout the office. This time catching him off guard, his shoulders jump slightly and takes a step back. He hesitates at first, staring into your pained eyes. He then storms out of your office without saying another word. Your hands are in so much pain but it doesn’t compare to the other pain that you feel inside. You feel broken and shattered. Suddenly, as the events that just occurred wash over you, you break down into tears. Why did you say that?

You resituate the blood stained napkin around your hands and grab your purse. Trying not to get blood anywhere and wipe your eyes of any extra tears. Then, you put on your sunglasses to hide your puffy eyes from the office. Taking off your jacket, you place it over your hands that are currently holding your purse to avoid any attention. Once you head out the door, you find Jisoo standing behind her desk, concerned as she just saw Taehyung storm away.

“N/N, is everything okay? I heard yelling.”

“Can you cancel any appointments I have today? I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to work from home . You can email me if something urgent comes up. No calls please,” you say with a fake smile. She just nods her head. She wants to ask more but doesn’t. Once you get to your car, you place your head against the steering wheel and cry. Hands still shaky. Breathing quickening. Temperature rising. You know that a panic attack is coming on, so you close your eyes and try to breathe. There’s no way you can drive like this. Slowly, you take five deep breaths and that somewhat soothes you. For now. You need immediate assistance but you hate hospitals, so you find yourself driving to Dr. Min, your psychiatrist, instead.

Dr. Min Yoongi is young for a doctor, but he’s really good at his job. He’s an attractive, porcelain pale man with small features. Blonde dyed hair and black half-rimmed glasses with a gold lining. He’s wearing black pants and a pale blue open-necked shirt with no tie. You sit in his office with fresh bandages and a steadier heart. Willingly, you told him everything that happened and he listened carefully. He always does. Talking to him has been so easy over the years. Although, you don’t mention her name because you know you’re not supposed to. For Taehyung’s privacy, you can’t disclose too much about his doings as he is also a client of Dr. Min. He specializes in trauma cases specifically. Adults and children that had trauma either in youth or during their adult years. He knows how to help people cope with their inner demons and actually understands what they’re going through it seems. Perhaps he was a trauma victim as well. 

“Y/N, why did you have a break down like that,” he asks you in his thick Daegu dialect. You know he’s not truly asking you because he knows why. He just wants to hear you say it. You shake your head slowly without looking at him.

“I’m afraid I’m going to lose him. If he falls in love with her, he will consume himself with her. He won’t need me anymore,” you say quietly. He nods his head and sighs, sitting back in his brown leather chair casually. You’re both sitting in his 

“Taehyung is very fond of you, Y/N. You mean a great deal to him. I don’t think he will forget your relationship,” he assures you. Although his words seemed as if it was crossing the line of professionalism and personal, his words warmed you a little. You look down at your hands, feeling guilty. Your hands are still in pain - like a stinging sensation that just keeps lingering. Every time you do this to yourself, the initial sensation of puncturing the skin is a soft limit for you – your own personal release. You used to do it all the time when you were a child and had a major panic attack. Fortunately, you haven’t done it since...until today.

“Love can make you do crazy things, Yoongi,” you say softly then slowly look up at him with a pained smile. He smiles at you sympathetically and sets his black, leather-bound notepad down.

“And time heals all wounds,” he says back. Touché. The two of you have a habit of throwing clichés back and forth during your conversations. It’s fun banter for you and brings you comfort.

“Give it time, Y/N. Let him adjust to this new relationship. If it’s serious, it will take him longer to adjust. You know that. It’s only been a day,” he says. Instantly, he makes you feel like a spoiled brat that didn’t get her way. Maybe this relationship won’t work out, maybe it will. It’s only been a day. You nod in agreement.

“Is that all you want to discuss today,” he asks genuinely, not to rush you. It’s already been nearly two hours. You think about talking more about Joon Jae but decide against it. Instead, you shake your head.

“I want to see you again next week. If you have another moment like this before then, don’t hesitate to call me. I can always come to you as well,” he says as you stand. With a warm smile, you put your purse strap on your shoulder.

“Thanks, Yoongi. I’ll see you next week,” you say sweetly. Before you leave, he hands you a small piece of paper.

“For the pain,” he says. It’s a prescription for pain relievers for your hands. There’s instantly an unsettling feeling in your stomach. You shake your head nervously.

“You know I can’t take that,” you say.

“It’s a low dosage. I promise. Just in case the pain becomes unbearable. Your cuts were surprisingly deep and it will take a while to heal. Typing and writing will hurt after an extended period of time. I wouldn’t prescribe it to you unless I thought you could handle it, Y/N. Take it. Please,” he says earnestly. Not wanting to argue, you sigh and take the paper; bidding him farewell.

You open the door to your apartment, so incredibly thankful to be home. Quickly, you set your keys and prescription on the foyer table. Your hands have gotten much worse since you left, but you deny yourself the medication. It’s too risky. Instead, you walk back to your bedroom and take off your clothes. you change into black yoga pants and a loose white tank top - no bra. Letting your hair down made you feel a little better. The bed beckons you, so you throw yourself back on your bed; thinking you should probably take a nap before getting any work done. Your head is spinning and you feel completely exhausted. So much as happened in the past couple of days and you feel spent. As you close your eyes, you hear a knock on your door. Angrily, your eyes pop open and stare at the ceiling.

A few seconds pass to see if they’ll go away. There’s no knowing who it could be as you were not expecting company. You just pray that it’s not Taehyung. Although, he has a key if he really wants to get in. They knock again. You let out an exasperated sigh and drag yourself off the bed. When you open the door and you are presented with a surprise.

“My goodness, what happened to you,” Dr. Kim Sooyoung says before you, Taehyung’s adopted  mother. She’s wearing a pantsuit and pearls; her dark hair in a bun. She always looks so elegant and motherly.

“Hello, Sooyoung,” you say with a tired smile. Naturally, you move out of the way so that she can walk in. She takes a look at you and focuses on your hands; even as she’s blindly taking her shoes off at the door.

“Darling, what happened to your hands,” she gasps. As she grabs hold of them somewhat gently, you wince. She retracts her hands immediately with caution.

“It’s fine. It’s just a small wound,” you assure her. She looks at you with knowing eyes.

“Y/N dear, you haven’t done that since you were a child. Tell me what happened,” she says in a serious yet soothingly gentle voice - that glorious motherly tone. It slipped your mind that she was the one that always nursed you when you caused this damage to yourself when you were litter. Of course you can’t tell her the cause of it. 

“Taehyung and I had a little argument. It didn’t help that I’ve been really stressed and busy with work. I think everything just came crashing down all at once,” you half lie. Typically, you don’t flat out lie. You just twist the truth a little. It’s easier that way. She looks at you as a mother would when she’s worried about her child and pulls you into a hug.

“Please tell me that you’re okay. I worry about you, sweetheart,” she says in your ear. You can’t help but to hush your urge to cry. You love her embraces. She’s the closest thing to a real mother that you've ever had. She’s always been there for you and you love her dearly. As you cry into her arms now, you’ll feel like a child. You've already had one setback today, you don’t need another. Instead, you pull away casually and smile.

“I spoke with Dr. Min after. I’m fine now,” you tell her to reassure her. You can tell she wants to press the subject but she doesn’t. So, instead you walk away to the kitchen.

“Would you like some earl grey,” you ask. You always drink earl grey tea together. It’s your favorite, thanks to her. At least once a week, you’ll sit down, have a cup of tea, and catch up with each other.

“I would love some,” she says. Crap. Suddenly, her unexpected visit processes in your head. It dawns on you that you were supposed to have lunch together today. What time is it? You look at the clock on your microwave. 12:40pm.

“Oh no. Sooyoung, I’m so sorry. I completely lost track of time and my schedule changed so suddenly. I don’t have anything prepared. Would you like some side dishes and rice for now? I can order something,” you apologize, feeling utterly guilty for lack of planning. This is very unlike you to forget something. Sooyoung smiles warmly at you.

“It’s fine, dear. I should have called first. I know you’re a busy bee these days. Taehyung told me about your new promotion, so it sounds like ‘congratulations’ are in order,” she says with a bright smile.

“As of Monday, I will be the new Commissioning Editor,” you beam at her with pride. It feels good to finally be able to say it. Seokjin sent you an email earlier hoping that you feel better and to tell you that the board is officially hiring you.

“That’s so wonderful, sweetie. You deserve it. You’ve earned this in every way possible. I’m so...so proud of you,” she says in a genuine way. You can feel how proud she is of you. Ever since you were little, she’s only wanted the best for you - just as any proud parent would. With tinted cheeks, you smile from ear to ear. Her presence is already making you feel a million times better. As the water warms up in the kettle, she tells you about the dinner party that Taehyung mentioned before. Chills instantly shoot down your spine.

“Min-ji is back in town from Paris. I thought it would be lovely to get the family together this weekend. Now that we know about the promotion, it would be a great opportunity to celebrate too.” Min-ji is Taehyung’s sister. She’s two years younger than you. She was also adopted by the Kim’s, as was his older brother, Ki-young. Sooyoung loves children and instead of having any of her own, she wanted to take care of those that didn’t have anyone. You admire her for it. A part of you considered following her footsteps, but you would love to have a child of your own someday. 

“Taehyung and Ki-young are bringing their girlfriends. You should bring a date as well.” Your face turns pale when she says this. You can feel the blood rush out of your face. You’re quickly reminded of today’s hell. She notices your reaction.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course,” she says, trying to take back her words casually. You shake your head quickly.

“No, no. That’s fine. I can bring a date,” you say suddenly; remembering that you don’t have to go alone to this. You’re not even sure of what Joon Jae’s stance on “meeting the family” is – especially since you deliberately told him that talking about your family is out of the question. This is going to confuse him.

“I-uh…I’ll have to talk with him first. I will definitely be there regardless,” you say with a soft smile. She gives you a look.

“You have a boyfriend,” she asks. Laughter finally comes out of you. She sounds so surprised. It’s not often you would bring a boy over. Or really ever. But this special little occasion gives you the sudden urge to bring your new Dom.

“It’s very new. I wouldn’t even say boyfriend. That’s...why I’m unsure if he’ll be joining me,” you say nervously with flushed cheeks. She beams at you.

“I’m sure he’ll agree. You’re very persuasive. Min-ho and I would love to meet him,” she says. You didn’t even think about her husband, your father figure, meeting him too. Meeting the “parents” after one night together? You sigh. This dinner is going to be a disaster. I just know it.

It’s been two days and you have yet to hear from Taehyung. You’re starting to get worried but you keep reminding yourself that he’s in a new relationship. It’s not the end of the world if he doesn’t speak to you. With his recent escape from your office, you were a little surprised that he didn’t check up on you. Joon Jae has graciously come over to your apartment each night to take care of you once he discovered you were injured. His intentions weren’t entirely pure however. All sexual activity involved your hands being tied up and out of the way so that he doesn’t hurt them, but you haven’t been complaining. He’s also agreed to have dinner with the Kim’s tonight. You’re so nervous, you feel like you’re going to hurl.

To calm your nerves, you decide to go shopping for a new dress for tonight. Typically, Taehyung would go with you but seeing that he’s busy, you ask Hanna, your best friend and best barista in town. She’s thrilled to have a girl’s day out. She especially loves being able to rub in your face that she is the reason why you’re dating Joon Jae. She can believe what she wants. You’re still trying to get used to the fact that you’re actually dating him.

After a much needed few hours with Hanna, you finally decided on a dress and you part ways. you feel awful that you haven’t been in contact with her over the past week, but things have been so hectic. She understands but demands that you text her every once and awhile or at least come in for a coffee break. Of course you think you can manage that. She’s your best friend after all and deserves to hear from you just as you expect her to check in with you from time to time. Adult friendships are so much easier than before. You could go days upon days without speaking to your best friend and it’s as if you had no time apart at all. Such a secure feeling it is.

Dinner is in two hours, so you rush home to shower and change. You’d be lying if you said that you’re not trying to make an impression tonight. Tonight you meet her – Im Yuri, the woman that has stolen Taehyung’s heart within twenty-four hours. How am I not supposed to be intimidated by that? 

You've known him for twenty-two years of your lives and have gone unnoticed, in that way. Everyone keeps telling you that you have no reason to be insecure, that you’re beautiful, but how can you believe them if he doesn’t feel that way? It’s awful to say, but his opinion is the only one that matters to you. You want to be beautiful to him. You want him to want you.

Who knows? Maybe he does find you attractive but your past has shattered all chances of being with him. He has a dark past too, yes, but that was four years of his life when he was a toddler. Not that you’re belittling his trauma but you've had six different foster families, three were abusive and two were neglectful. 

Your last family was wonderful, the Lee’s. You had them for two years from when you were sixteen to eighteen. But they couldn’t handle the nightmares at night. They couldn’t handle the silence you would exercise for days on end. Because of this, they gave you space. They didn’t pry. They were gentle and kind but never pushed you to act differently. They loved you but they were a little afraid of you; perhaps just overly concerned. It seemed as if they were afraid. You didn’t want to burden them any longer. When you turned eighteen, you freed them from you. You were an adult and didn’t need a foster family anymore, so you left. 

These thoughts ran through your head as you took a shower. You shook them out of your mind and rinsed yourself off. With your towel wrapped firmly around your body, you walked out to your bedroom to take a look at your dress. There was so much thought put into this dress; probably more than you should have. It’s a marsala-colored dress. The color compliments your skin perfectly. The neckline is Grecian – perfect for showing the right amount of cleavage in a respectful manner, but still in a sexy way. Its length reaches deliciously above your knees with a delicate flare. This is the first dress that you've owned that made you feel sexy and confident in a long time. Thank you Gucci. Yes, you splurged a bit on this little number but it’s going to be worth it.

Once you put the ensemble on, you matched it with nude, strappy stilettos and teardrop earrings that Taehyung bought for you this past Christmas. Hair styled into a braid that laid on the side with a few strands that bounce in front of your face on purpose. You create a fine black wing on your top eyelid, top it off with mascara, and apply sheer lip gloss. When you take a look in your full length mirror, you smile broadly at your reflection. Your reflection surprises you. You can’t help but to giggle to yourself.

Once you grab your nude clutch, you head out the door to meet Joon Jae downstairs. He’s waiting for you outside of his luxury car. He’s wearing a red open-neck button shirt tucked into black dress pants - no tie. His black suit jacket hugs him perfectly. Even at dusk, he looks mouthwateringly handsome . He smirks at you as you strut towards him. He slides his hand around your waist, pulling you into him.

“Do you know how decadent you look,” he asks with a dark, shivering tone. You sheepishly shake your head with shy intentions. He pulls you closer. The smell of his woodsy cologne fills your nostrils.

“I guess I’ll have to show you how much after dinner,” he says seductively. He kisses you with passion, leaving you breathless. His hands wander around your lower back and further. Typically, you would feel uncomfortable about this sort of public display, but this dress makes you feel careless. He pulls away and he notices that you have a small audience on the street. He chuckles lightly and leads you to the car.

“Let’s get you out of here before I have to start fighting people off of you,” he says. You snort cutely and do as he says. The tone in your face made you think that he may not have been joking.

The drive to the Kim’s isn’t too long but it feels like an eternity. You’re getting warm with anticipation as you get closer. When you pull up to the grand home that you practically grew up in, you can’t help but to grin. You’re home.

“I knew the Kim’s had money, but this is just ridiculous. You grew up here,” he asks. you nod.

“This home was filled with so much love, it had to be this big to contain it all,” you say poetically with a soft tone. You beam at your childhood home as if you’re a child again. Joon Jae doesn’t understand it seems. As a writer and romantic person, you write various forms of poetry and often love speaking in riddles, inspirations, and clichés. But Joon Jae doesn’t understand it seems.

When you approach the door, it opens immediately. You’re greeted by a young woman in khakis and a white button-down shirt - business casual.

“Good evening, Miss L/N,” she says professionally. You don’t recognize her, but you smile warmly at her.

“Good evening. Thank you,” you say respectively. Within seconds, Sooyoung comes down the hall, past the grand staircase in a black, sophisticated dress. Her hair falls gracefully onto her shoulders.

“Y/N, darling. You look absolutely stunning! I’m so glad you’ve made it,” she says as she takes you into her arms. She kisses you on the cheek, making you smile even more.

“Hello, Sooyoung. Thank you so much. You look radiant as always,” your voice sounds genuine and sweet, “This is Joon Jae. Joon Jae, this is Kim Taehyung’s mother, Dr. Kim Sooyoung,” you introduce them with a blush. You've never brought a boyfriend home before. If that’s what he’s called. You haven’t exactly discussed formalities.

“Please, call me Joon,” he insists. He takes her hand and plants a kiss on her knuckles. She blushes.

“Oh my. Such manners. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Joon.” Behind her, Taehyung’s father, Min-ho appears. He’s tall and handsome in a George Clooney way. Salt and pepper hair styled perfectly as he still has thick hair at his age. He’s wearing a fitted black suit to match his wife.

“N/N, you look beautiful, dear. It’s so good to see you,” he says in a comforting, fatherly tone. He pulls you into a warm hug and you embrace it. He’s always been so good to you. You love him dearly as if he were your own father. You’re just not nearly as close to him as you are with Sooyoung. You introduce him to Joon Jae and they firmly shake hands - like two businessmen as they are. They recognize each other, but they can’t put a finger on where from. They assume it’s from a dinner party of some sort.

“Everyone is in the living room chatting over cocktails. Shall we join them,” Sooyoung asks eagerly.

“Of course,” you say even as your nerves instantly start settling in at the thought of seeing Taehyung and Yuri together. You take a deep breath and Joon Jae puts his hand on the small of your back, asserting his position. You’re curious if he’s as nervous as you are about seeing Taehyung. You have a feeling that you'll both be putting on a show tonight to impress someone.

You walk into the library-like living room to find all five other guests standing around with champagne glasses.

“Everyone, Y/N and Joon Jae have arrived,” Sooyoung delightfully announces. The attention makes you blush.

She leans into you and whispers, “I’ll grab you a glass of Prosecco, dear.” Gratefully you nod.

“N/N!” Barreling towards you is sweet Min-ji, Taehyung’s sister, with open arms. Her hair is cut into an adorable raven-colored fringe bob and her matching fringe dress screams Paris. She clobbers into you and holds you tight. Naturally you laugh and embrace her with just as much energy. She’s slightly shorter than you originally, but the heels made her slightly taller.

“Hi, Min. How was your trip? I’m dying to hear about it,” you say to her enthusiastically. She’s like the little sister you’ve always wanted. Of course you have a great relationship with her and hang out as much as you can. Your bond is just not nearly as strong as yours with Taehyung’s. She knows about your past but she has never been the one to pry for details. She’s more of a distraction type of person - let’s not think about things and just have fun. You never complained though. Sometimes it was all you needed.

“Oh, il était superbe. We must discuss my adventures over lunch this week,” she insists in a bourgeois fashion. 

“That sounds wonderful,” you agree with a smile. 

“And who is this? You’re a handsome fellow,” she says to Joon Jae. Joon Jae chuckles, clearly taken back by her boldness. Min-ji was always the most extroverted one out of all of the Kim’s. She’s certainly the life of the party and you love her to pieces.

“Min-ji,” Sooyoung admonishes softly as she hands Joon Jae and you two flutes filled with pale pink Prosecco. It’s your favorite. As you accept the glass, Ki-young, Taehyung’s younger adopted brother  approaches. He’s not quite as tall as Taehyung, but still tall. He has dyed-blonde shaggy hair and also looks handsome in a suit. He always had that Cali look about him as he’s always loved Western LA culture. He pulls you into a big brotherly hug.

“You look amazing as always,” he says as he squeezes you. You blush and thank him.

“This is Yoona, my girlfriend,” he introduces. You try not to look too surprised by her. She’s absolutely gorgeous. She could easily pass for a model – curves, voluptuous hair, and a bright smile. 

He surprises you by telling you that she just graduated top of her class – Valedictorian. She also informs you that she’s Yuri’s best friend. That’s when you’re confronted with the dreaded moment. Everyone else immerses into chatter as you take a big sip from your drink, needing some liquid courage.

Taehyung looks at you with shy eyes. He approaches you with caution. Naturally, you take a good look at him and he looks, for lack of a better word, delicious. His suit is chocolate brown from top to bottom. His shirt is open at the neck – no tie. His attire brings out his copper hair and brown eyes. Next, you pry your eyes from him to look at her. 

Oh my God… You swallow hard, unable to hide your shock. She looks absolutely perfect. You didn’t expect any less but it’s different when confronted with your expectations. She’s small and petite. Her hair is chestnut brown and imperfect in a flawless way. Her skin is pale and her dress matches the color of your drink. Her eyes are big and her lips are full. Your confidence diminishes instantly. Joon Jae pulls you into his side, holding you in place.

“Hello, Y/N,” your best friend says formally as he reaches the two of you.

“Taehyung,” you whisper to return his greeting. You take a deep breath and put on the best smile you possibly can in this situation.

“You must be Yuri. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard good things about you,” you half-lie. You extend your hand and shake hers. Her hands are delicate and slightly cold, grip very loose. She smiles at you sweetly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well,” she says softly. It’s hard to tell if there’s a fakeness in her voice or if she’s just very shy. Joon Jae clears his throat.

“Taehyung, Yuri, this is Ahn Joon Jae,” you introduce with caution but still attempt to sound confident. Hopefully, they buy it. Joon Jae and Taehyung exchange a very firm handshake. It lasts a little longer than usual as they study each other.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Joon Jae says casually, a slight smirk on his lips. Joon Jae is slightly taller than Taehyung. The tension in the room is making you very uncomfortable. Thankfully, Sooyoung pops back into the room as if choreographed.

“Dinner is almost ready,” she announces in song-like words. Everyone begins exiting the room. Taehyung watches you as you leave. You can practically feel his eyes on you. You look back at him as Joon Jae escorts you out of the room. There’s pain in those almond eyes and it strikes a cord inside of you. You have a gut-wrenching feeling that things have shifted between you two over the past couple of days. You feel as if things won’t be the same between the two of you. Unfortunately, it feels like it’s for the worse, not the better.

The dining table is the perfect size for your dinner party. Sooyoung and Min-ho take their positions at the each end of the table as the hosts. Min-ji sits to Sooyoung’s right, then you and Joon Jae; an empty chair separating him from Min-ho. To Sooyoung’s left is Yuri, Taehyung, Ki-young, then Yoona. Salads are placed before you as the table begins discussing recent and upcoming vacations. You remain silent. You can’t remember the last vacation you took. It's been such a long time . You’re sure the last one was one with Taehyung, but you can’t remember at this moment. You've taken small weekend getaways here and there, but nothing big like Min-ji’s recent extended trip to Paris lasting six months. 

In this moment, you feel as if you've lost your voice. You only eat half of your salad and finish your glass of champagne. The voices around you sound distant but you catch the tail end of Yoona talking about a trip with her family to Hawaii that Ki-young will be going on as well.

“What about you, N/N? Any vacation plans this year,” Min-ho asks from the other end of the table. You snap out of your trance and smile faintly.

“Oh, uh, nothing’s on the horizon yet. You know me, I can’t ever seem to pry myself away from work,” you say with a nervous laugh. Sooyoung looks at you sympathetically.

“Oh, surely there’s somewhere you would love to go. We can all use a break from work every now and then,” Sooyoung says to be encouraging. Joon Jae clears his throat.

“Actually, I’m thinking of taking a trip to Paris this summer. Hearing Min-ji talk about it settled my  decision. Perhaps N/N will join me,” he says, smiling down at you. The women in the room awe at the thought as you blush.

“I-uh…maybe…” You’re at a loss of words. You've only known Joon Jae for a minute and he’s meeting your family and talking about a trip to Paris all within a day it seems. This is too much.

“I think N/N would prefer Barcelona or Provence. Somewhere historic and rich in culture,” Taehyung chimes in. Surprised by his correction, you look at Taehyung wide eyed. Just as you open your mouth to speak -

“I think N/N can speak for herself,” Joon Jae says abruptly. There’s that tension in the room again. It feels as if you’re going to faint. Taehyung starts to speak again but you can’t take the thought of their Dominant bickering back and forth.

“Actually, I don’t really care for Paris,” you interrupt and clear your throat, “the architecture and art is beautiful, but I don’t enjoy the food and I hear the people are rude. Taking a trip there doesn’t interest me,” you say with a slight laugh to brush it off - desperately trying to gain control of the room again. Although you’re realizing you’re agreeing with Taehyung, you feel that telling the truth is best then risk being taken somewhere you despise. Even if that makes the man that isn’t your boyfriend right. The two men remain silent but stare at each other as everyone else nods and laughs as well. Between those two, it’s like watching two lions trying to prove their dominance in the animal kingdom. Thankfully, Min-ho changes the subject.

“Yuri, where are your parents from,” he asks kindly.

“My stepfather is in Seoul and my mother is in Gwangju. Separated currently because of work,” she says sweetly.

“Gwangju,” Sooyoung gasps. “Which part.”

“Dong-gu region near the Mudeungsan mountain,” Yuri says with a smile, as if rehearsed.

“Oh how nice. Although, I do hear that it is quite humid there this time of year,” Sooyoung says. She’s always been so good with small talk. You can tell she’s trying to get to know her son’s new girlfriend and keep an open mind. Everyone else seems to be a bit cautious of her - just as you are. Or perhaps it’s all in your head.

“Oh my God. It is. It’s stifling sometimes. Actually, I’m going to visit my mother tomorrow,” she says but she spoke more on the informal side. This catches Taehyung’s attention. He furrows his brow at her.

“You hear that Taehyung? Some children like to visit their parents every now and again,” Sooyoung says jokingly. You know Taehyung and his mother speak often on the phone but there’s little visitation. You actually see Sooyoung more than he does. Then again, you were always very close. Ki-young starts talking about the LG Twins game, Seoul’s popular baseball team, and chatter at the table starts again. You catch sight of Taehyung whispering to Yuri. You take it that this trip to Gwangju is new news to him. You know he won’t like that very much. Taehyung is not fond of surprises. She’s quite the free bird, this Yuri. You’re starting to see why she reminds him of you. Just not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing… 

Pulling you from your thoughts, Joon Jae suddenly grabs your hand under the table and gives it a light squeeze.

“Are you okay,” he whispers with concern. Realizing your dazed state of mind, you look at him and smile faintly with a nod.

“I would like to make a toast,” Sooyoung says while raising her glass. Joon Jae pours more champagne in your glass so that you have something to toast with.

“We have a great deal to celebrate tonight. I’m so proud of my children for finding happiness and doing such beautiful things with their lives,” she says with a warm smile. You can tell that she’s fighting back tears. She turns to look at you.

“I especially want to celebrate our dear Y/N this evening. She’s come a long way and she was just promoted to her dream job as Commissioning Editor at Kim Publishing.” Usually you’re not the center of attention, so naturally you blush.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetie. You know by law or blood, you’re not a part of this family, but you will always be considered as such in our hearts. You know you’re like a daughter to us and we love you so very much,” she says as a tear escapes her motherly eyes. Now you’re the one fighting back the tears. Min-ho raises his glass higher.

“To N/N,” he roars. The others repeat and cheer for you. You smile at them and take a sip from your glass. Joon Jae kisses you on the cheek. That’s when you notice Taehyung’s glance at you. His glass is raised just like the others but his eyes linger on your cheek as Joon Jae’s lips press against it. It appears as if his nostril flared but you think perhaps it was your imagination. Yuri grabbed his attention as she began speaking to him.

“Congrats gorgeous,” Joon Jae whispers in your ear. It sends a chill down your spine but you thank him. On your other side, Min-ji hugs you tightly from her chair and congratulates you. Of course this makes you smile along with her.

“N/N, dear. Would you mind coming with me for a moment,” Sooyoung asks softly from Min-ji’s other side.

“Of course,” you say politely. You set your napkin that was on your lap on the table and get up to follow her without question. You take your glass with you because you fully intend on gulping the rest down and grabbing a refill on your way back. The two of you proceed back to the living room. Everyone has resituated in the other room as they prep for after dinner coffee and dessert. Sooyoung makes sure no one is listening as you stand by the fireplace. Patiently awaiting her to speak, you finish your glass and set it down.

“Is everything alright, dear,” she asks. You know these moments very well. This reminds you of all the times she would ask you the very same question, right before you switched foster families. She always knew when you were hiding something deep down - thoughts or emotions. Feeling defeated, you sigh.

“I’m fine. Tonight is just very…overwhelming,” you say with a light laugh at the end of your words. She looks at you knowingly.

“I know that you’re not a child anymore, but you can still talk to me if there’s something wrong. I  don’t want you to hesitate to confide in me,” she says in a serious tone yet sincere. You look at her, trying to read her. What is she referring to exactly, you wonder.

“I know you’re upset about your fight with Taehyung,” she said after a brief pause. Oh.

“It was a little fight,” you begin to say to belittle it.

“You haven’t spoken in days,” she says bluntly. You look at her wide-eyed. How does she know this? Did Taehyung talk to her?

“Both of you seem to be in relationships now and now you act as if you’re strangers. Neither of you have brought someone home for us to meet before. This should be a proud moment, but this just feels so wrong,” she sighs as she realizes her confusion. She was right. Tonight was supposed to be different. It doesn’t feel right at all. You need to talk to Taehyung.

“I’m sure this will pass. We’re not giving up on each other. I promise,” you assure her.

“Good,” she says with a coy smirk. She looks into the other room to check your privacy.

“Now, there was another reason why I wanted to speak with you. It’s about Min-ho’s annual charity party in a week,” you nod. You do love his annual summer parties. He uses the opportunity to shine a light on a good cause and to catch up with friends. It’s the one time of year that you can really dress up, which you adore doing. This year, he’s focusing on a drug rehab program for parents with young kids called Coping Together. The cause hits home for you, but you still intend on going for support; also because he happened to tell you that you were the inspiration for this event. Instead of being yanked around like a toy, he wishes that your parents got their act together, sought out help, kept you, and became a part of programs such as this. He loves having you as part of the family, but he wishes every child had a relationship with their real parents. This is why he feels so strongly about adoption. No child left behind, is a motto that he cherishes which holds different meanings.

“You are still coming, yes,” she asks.

“Yes. I’ll be there,” you say with a smile.

“Excellent. Min-ho has asked a favor of you but he felt it would be best coming from me,” she says. You raise your eyebrow at her. I am not giving a speech, you think to yourself repeatedly.

“We’re having an auction at the party. We’re looking for twelve eligible women to auction their first dance to the highest bidder. Would you be interested,” she asks as sweetly as possible. Accidentally, you laugh out loud - really loud. The other room hushes for a moment and you cover your mouth. Awkwardly, you wave at the room, mouthing “I’m sorry” towards them. The chatter resumes and Sooyoung is smiling at you.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then,” she says with a chuckle. You nod your head. She knows that you hate auctions like that. It makes you cringe thinking of someone paying money for you to do something in return - like being told your worth.

“I’m glad you don’t want to because I’d rather you do something else for the cause. You know each of us must take part in this, one way or another.” She’s right. Min-ji usually takes part in the auction. Ki-young and you typically help with the planning and décor. Taehyung brings more money to the charity by providing names of those that can give handsome donations to the cause. He also makes a donation of his own since he makes more than his siblings – much, much more. Quite the philanthropist.

“Eomma, What would you like me to do this year,” you ask, your tone hinting for her to get to the point. Hidden between books on a nearby bookshelf, she retrieves a notebook. She hands you a dark green, leather notebook that looks to be fifteen years old. You know this because it’s your notebook. Unsure of how she obtained this, you look at it in shock. You don’t recall leaving this notebook here. 

As you stare at the notebook, you take it with a shaky hand. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. This is your lyric journal - a very intimate journal. You learned how to play piano when you were five and have been playing ever since. Along that, you also know the guitar very well. The true  hidden secret of yours is your voice. You love to sing and you’re pretty good at it. Out of shyness, you  haven’t let anyone hear you. The Kim’s have a piano at their house that you use. When you knew the house would be empty, you would sneak away from your foster home and play a song that you have written. You would hide your journal in your room or on the bookshelf. These lyrics are passages into your heart. Some are dark, some are light, but most of them are about love. These songs are about Taehyung. Suddenly, you feel sick to your stomach.

“Sing for us at the event,” she begs softly. You look at her, frightened; starting to shake your head.

“I know you can sing, Y/N. You have a beautiful voice and I think it’s time that everyone else hears you.” As she looks at you excitedly, you remain silent. This was your little secret. You know it may not seem like a big deal since it seems most people can sing these days but it’s a big deal for you. Everything about you is written down in a file for all to see. The foster care system has a file on you, the Kim’s have a file on you, Dr. Min has a file on you; even Taehyung! But this, this was your best kept secret.

Nothing about your life is private and you hate it. You feel vulnerable, like you’re being put on display. Singing was the only thing that you had to yourself. Although, you thought Dr. Min was the only person that knew. He told you to sing as a coping mechanism. It always helps. He knows of your feelings for Taehyung and has for several years. Since you refuse to tell Taehyung about how you feel, he recommended that you channel it another way. So, you just started writing. It’s only natural that you hold the notebook so near and dear to your heart.

“I-I can’t,” you said softly. She touches your arm gently.

“No one has to know the meaning behind the lyrics. This will be our little secret,” she says, “We have a band playing for the event, but I would like you to sing for the first dance. Just one song. It would be so much more meaningful.” When you look at her and see the desperation in her eyes, you can’t help but to feel tempted. She clearly wants you to do this so badly. 

“Do this for me, please. Do this for yourself,” she whispers. “Do it for him…” Here words instantly make you freeze. What? 

“What did you-“

“I’ve always known, dear. I think he’s the only person that doesn’t see it,” she says softly as both of you bring your attention to Taehyung lightly conversing with his other siblings. This is news to you - another secret of yours that isn’t a secret. Have you really been so obvious? Defeatedly you sigh and slowly nod your head.

“Okay. Fine,” you whisper hesitantly. Sooyoung gasps and smiles wide. She gently grabs your shoulders and pulls you in to kiss you on the cheek.

“Thank you,” she says with sincerity. You think about the positives of doing this. Singing this song in front of Taehyung will make you feel a little better. Perhaps, it will allow you to finally move on. Having this conversation gives you a revelation. You’re in love with Kim Taehyung - beyond in love with Kim Taehyung. This declaration may allow you to move on but you can’t string Joon Jae along knowing that you have these feelings. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Joon Jae says as he enters the room. “I have to go. I’m needed at work. There’s something wrong with our publication that’s supposed to print tomorrow.” Quickly, you close the notebook and hold it by your side.

“That’s okay. Go take care of it. I’m going to stay here a while longer and catch up with everyone,” you say with a smile, hoping he understands that you don’t want to leave your family quite yet. He nods but you can see the hesitation in his eyes as they never leave yours.

“I'll ensure that she gets home safely,” Sooyoung offers with a faint giggle. He thanks her respectively.

“I want to see you later tonight,” he whispers to you - commands you.

“Can I see you tomorrow? It’s already late. I’ll be too tired for company,” you say timidly. He gives you a look of protest much stronger than before, but he agrees since Sooyoung is watching you. He kisses you and heads out the door without another word. His kiss on your lips lingered yet you felt a harshness in the kiss. Sooyoung walks up to you gingerly.

“He seems like such a nice, young man. I know you’ll do what’s best,” she says as she looks over at you. Sometimes, you think Sooyoung knows you better than anyone. Then again, she is a mother after all. Taehyung and Yuri enter the room and you can see the curiosity on Taehyung’s face.

“Joon Jae had to go so soon,” he asks with peaked interest.

“He had to work,” you reply shortly. He nods as if he already didn’t care what your response was. His childishness makes you smile to yourself.

“Mother, Yuri, would you excuse me for a moment? I wish to speak with N/N alone.” Sooyoung smiles.

“Of course! This will give me time to get to know Yuri,” she says with genuine excitement. She almost seems too eager to give you two some time alone. Taehyung kisses Yuri on the cheek before separating.

“I’ll give you a tour of the grounds after,” he says kindly to her. She nods obediently; not quite like a robot but not far from it. Taehyung extends his hand out to insist that you lead the way to the garden in the back. Without hesitation, you walk out of the living room and out to the backyard. When entering the backyard, you step onto a grey flagstone patio lit with solar lights. Instantly, you think of Taehyung and his work. You know it was him that arranged such a beautiful display one late summer when he was just eighteen. There are shrubs and flower beds aligned perfectly around you. As you slow to admire the surroundings, Taehyung walks past you towards the boathouse.

“Taehyung, where are we going,” you shouted as he didn’t stop.

“The boathouse,” he says curtly over his shoulder. So childish. You roll your eyes and yet follow him regardless. When you get to the boathouse, you stop again to admire the beautiful interior. You used to love coming in here when you were younger. Min-ho would teach you about boats and how to take care of them; nautical knots and such. You smile to yourself. You then notice that Taehyung isn’t in the downstairs portion of the decent sized boathouse. You turn to the wooden stairs that lead to the room above. In that moment, Taehyung turns on the lights, giving the room a soft and dim light. It’s an attic room with sloped ceilings. This room is decorated with a nautical theme – navy blues, creams, and a dash of red. There’s little furniture but as Taehyung stands firmly in the middle of the floor, you can see that you won’t be sitting on any of it.

He stands there studying you. Two can play at this game. To mirror him, you stand a few feet away from him and watch him. You stand there in silence for what seems like forever. Finally, he closes his eyes and sighs. He advances towards you and takes you into his arms, hugging you tightly. He places his hand behind your head to hold it against him. You take in his intoxicating smell that you love more and more everyday. He smells of spices and fragrance, warm and comforting.

“Please don’t do that ever again,” he whispers in your hair. You pull away, confused.

“Do what?” He holds you at bay and looks you in the eyes.

“Don’t be so upset with me like that. You’ve never yelled at me like that before. And you…you hurt yourself because of me,” he says with sadness in his eyes. Oh. Taehyung’s vulnerable side. You didn’t even realize he might be affected this way by the incident. You were so busy being so angry about everything that it didn’t dawn on you as to how he would react to your outburst. He doesn’t handle outbursts like that very well. You recall telling him that you don’t need him anymore. It now explains why he hasn’t spoken to you in days. He hid himself from you as he did when he was younger. A pain fills your heart.

“I won’t. I promise. I’m so sorry, Taehyung,” you say. Moisture swells your eyes and he hushes you.

“Please don’t cry. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have overwhelmed you the way I did,” he says with sincerity. Why does he always place all the blame on himself with everything?

“Taehyung, this is not your fault and I won’t have you saying otherwise. I’m going through a lot right now and I just hit your limit. You just got stuck in the crossfire. I’m truly sorry. And for the record, I will always need you. Forgive me?” He smiles sweetly; a smile that you only see once in a while. But it’s so...so good to see.

“Always,” he says tenderly. He gently takes your hands into his and turns your palms upward, examining them.

“Your hands are healing nicely. How are you feeling,” he asks. Does he want the real you shrug.

“I feel okay. They don’t hurt anymore. It’s a pain that I’m used to,” you say softly. He frowns and let’s go of your hands. The warmth you felt from his touch now gone.

“N/N, I wish you wouldn’t do this to yourself. I thought that was behind you,” he says, his worry evident in his voice.

“My past will never be behind me, Taehyung.” Your voice is so cold and distant. Not even a hint of pain in your voice - just defeat. His gaze becomes serious.

“Is Joon Jae treating you well,” he asks with intent. You hesitate. You don’t even want to think about the Joon Jae situation right now. Your hesitation makes him press the question. He furrows his brow.

“Y/N, has he hurt you,” he asked with panic in his voice. This alarms you.

“What? No, no. I just- I don’t know,” you say frantically. You look away from him but his head follows yours.

“Y/N, tell me,” he commands. His stance is becoming more Dominant. Square shoulders, a slight puff in his toned chest, hands in his pockets that give him a touch of self-control. If his arms were crossed, he would be in full alpha mode. You can’t help but feel the urge to obey as usual.

“I don’t think it’s going to work out between us. It just doesn’t feel right,” you say softly.

“What do you mean,” he presses quickly as if waiting to hear something he did to you.

“He’s perfect on paper, but I can’t see this going anywhere. I don’t want to keep him around if I don’t have any intentions of this becoming something more. Besides, with my recent breakdown, I’ve had to up my appointments with Dr. Min.” He looks at you with alarming eyes.

“I didn’t know it was that bad,” he says in a calm tone. You look down.

“I’m trying to find myself. I have a lot of work to do and I can’t bring anyone else down with me. These past several months, I’ve been burying myself in my work, thinking that I needed another relationship to fill this void that I’ve been feeling. Now that I’m in one, I realize that that’s not it. Maybe now that I realize that, I can use this time to actually focus on myself for once.” Taehyung is taking in every word that you’re saying but something about his eyes tells you that he’s pained by your words. Perhaps he’s worried about you. Honestly, you’re worried about yourself too. You try to change the subject.

“Yuri seems perfect for you. I’m sure you’re ecstatic to have found someone,” you say with an ache in your heart. He doesn’t change his expression. There’s something so lost about it.

“It’s still new. I’ll see in time,” he says but something in his voice sounds as if he’s aching. You stand there looking at each other in silence for a moment; nothing but the sound of the breeze brushing outside.

“Taehyung! N/N! Where are you?” you hear Min-ji’s voice suddenly shout from the bottom floor. Taehyung closes his eyes with frustration.

“She can be so irritating sometimes,” he whispers to you. You giggle softly. He looks at you with a smirk as he tries not to laugh.

“We’re up here,” you finally shout back. She walks far enough up the stairs to see you in view.

“Come back and join us. Yoona and Ki-young are leaving soon and Dad is sharing some rather embarrassing stories about you to Yuri,” she says with a laugh. Taehyung sighs.

“I’m sure it has something to do with me helping you with ballet,” he says to you in passing as he walks towards the stairs. Both you and Min-ji laugh at the memory.

“That story’s coming up, so you better hurry,” she says through laughter. Min-ji goes back down the stairs to get a head start and Taehyung turns to you from the stairs. You glance around the attic, lost in thought, trying to find your bearings.

“Are you coming,” he asks. You look at him and smile, feeling so much warmth and butterflies in your stomach. You follow Taehyung down the stairs, cursing yourself for not speaking up yet again. There was so much more that you wanted to say. You always feel so close to telling him how you feel but never close enough...

[jenomark]

OCTOBER

➔Pairing: Doyoung x Reader (Female) | Jaehyun x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Plot (ft. smut, romance, angst, fluff etc.) ➔Warnings: Drinking ➔Word count: 5,300

➔Summary: You are dating handsome and lovable Jaehyun. You stay at his apartment all of the time, along with his roommate Doyoung. Doyoung has feelings for you, which he doesn’t quite understand. What begins as an innocent crush changes the lives of all three people over the course of seven months.

AUGUST SEPTEMBER

October 30, The Night Before Halloween.

  Doyoung’s eyes followed the sparklers tearing across the backdrop of night. The colors hurt his eyes, but he couldn’t look away from them. His eyes went in and out of focus, fairy lights joining in his vision, vibrant yellows and whites softening around the edges the longer he looked. He was acutely aware of his own breathing, the volume turned all the way up, and the noise of the party cancelling out. All of those things swirled round’ and round’, until the beautiful purple butterfly popped up in front of him.

“What did you say?” he asked.

  At once, the swarm of the Halloween party returned. The music was so loud that it vibrated his teeth. He could hear a distant drama playing out between a girl and her girlfriend, their voices feeling like they were swimming around in his brain. He could no longer hear his breathing, let alone his own thoughts.

“I said, do you want a drink?” 

  You stood before him, a sparkler in one hand, and a cup of alcohol extended like an olive branch. Dressed up as a butterfly in a lilac colored leotard, complete with a gauzy tutu and butterfly wings clipped to your back, you placed his drink in front of him. His eyes swept over your emotionless face before looking up at the antenna headband on your head. Your hair was curled, a fresh short haircut making you appear cute. Not that Doyoung had noticed, of course.

“Thank you.” he said.

  Doyoung was alone at the table. Everyone else was socializing around the backyard, tucked underneath the fairy lights or hanging around the empty pool. He watched a few people hovering around the food, their fingers digging into a bowl of pretzels before airplane-ing them into a cheese dip shaped like a pumpkin. In the corner, a couple dressed up as ketchup and mustard were dancing together, the tips of their bottles touching every time they moved. The yard was big, and it seemed that no matter where Doyoung looked, people were living.

“Why don’t you come join us so you’re not lonely?” you asked. “Me and Jaehyun could use some company.”

  Other than the expansive yard, the house had people occupying it. Doyoung hadn’t been to many Halloween parties, but it was exactly as he had imagined it. There were spiked punch bowls with floating hands of ice, jumpscare decorations and costume contests. Everyone had dressed to impress. It was exactly the kind of scene he avoided throughout his youth.

 Meanwhile, the little butterfly, though as pretty as she was, was one of the more chill costumes of the night. Doyoung looked down at his own and felt a shudder move through his body that wasn’t because of the cold. He felt embarrassment creeping up his neck the longer he sat and thought about what he was dressed up as. He didn’t like the attention whenever he stood up and moved, the odd ends of his costume bumping into things.

“I like sitting here. I’m not lonely.” Doyoung said, which was a lie. He was freezing, hungry, and he just wanted to go home and sleep. “I’m sure you don’t mean that you want me around, since you spend so much time with me.”

  You sat down in the chair next to him and huffed. “Is it the costume? I told you that you didn’t have to dress up in it.”

“I wanted to.”

You looked at him, narrowing your eyes. “Why?”

  The original plan was that you were going to dress up as a butterfly. You had picked it out at the tail end of September, and Doyoung could see how excited you were about it. For a few weeks after, he caught you looking at the costume, pulling it out of Jaehyun’s closet and letting your fingers work over the delicate beading on the wings. At that time, Jaehyun wanted to do a couples costume, which had worked out perfectly because there was a matching part to your costume: a butterfly net.

“Well, I wasn’t going to let the butterfly go without her net.” he said, his eyes not able to match yours.

  The more Jaehyun thought about being the net to your butterfly, the more he was terrified of being mocked by his friends. He gave up the costume after buying it, deciding to be a sexy James Bond instead. You never showed Jaehyun that it hurt you, but Doyoung was so observant when it came to you that he couldn’t help but see. So, within a week of the party, Doyoung shoved his original costume back into his closet and lied that he didn’t have one. He put on the head-to-toe black leotard that kept no secrets about his body, and put the net and tubing around his upper half. He was your safety net, literally and figuratively.

  You smiled briefly before reaching over and taking a sip of Doyoung’s drink that you’d brought. Seeing your smile in any capacity made Doyoung sure that he’d made the right choice. He felt like a fool unable to move, but it was worth it.

“I’m in a couples costume without my boyfriend.” you said. “There is a joke in there somewhere. You can take it off, Doyoung. You don’t have to wear it for me. I’m pretty sure you’ve already reaped all the embarrassment readily available.”

 Doyoung couldn’t help but laugh. You handed him his cup back and he drank from it, his lips touching the cool liquid, and his eyes boring into yours from over the rim of the cup. He set it back down on the table, picked up the netting from his costume and let it fall back down into his lap.

“Is there a bathroom in this place?” he asked. “I have to go,  but I’m not even sure how to get out of this thing.”

“You might have to take it all off.”

  Doyoung could feel his momentary good mood slipping. He thought about excusing himself to go home and use his toilet. He thought about the moment he’d pass through his front door and rip the leotard to shreds, taking all of his anger out on the fabric. He was deep in his thoughts of destruction when you spoke.

“I can help you. C’mon.” you said.

  You got up, holding your butterfly wings securely to your body so they wouldn’t get caught in anything. Since you were also wearing a leotard, Doyoung could see every curve of your body. He looked at your bare legs, which must have been so cold standing outside for more than five minutes. Before you turned around and held out your hand, his eyes were watching your ass and how the tutu lifted up just a little bit to reveal it.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re one net that won’t be catching this butterfly. Let’s go. I’ll help you take off this monstrosity before I go back to my boyfriend.”

  He took your hand, and you lifted him from his chair with little effort. It was really the bare minimum, but the thought of your strength turned Doyoung on. He shuffled forward, making sure his tubing didn’t catch on the end of someone's wig and pull it off. The last thing he needed was getting into a fight at a Halloween party dressed like an idiot. You kept hold of his hand, weaving your way through the yard, telling him whenever the grass was uneven so he didn’t trip. But when you saw Jaehyun, you dropped his hand.

“What is going on?” Jaehyun said, seeing your face. When he noticed that Doyoung was up and walking, he grinned. “Welcome to the party! You know, it’s really a shame that your girlfriend isn’t here, Do-ie. She would have giggled seeing you dressed up like that.”

“I’m taking him to the bathroom.” you said, getting on your tiptoes to peck Jaehyun on the cheek. “He needs help.”

“I’ll do it.” Jaehyun offered. 

“No,”you said. “It’s okay. I have to go, too.”

  You motioned for Doyoung to come along, but he didn’t see you. Jaehyun grabbed a little bit of net and shoved him forward, nearly making him trip up the steps. Once inside, you grabbed his hand again. To anyone who didn’t know either of you at the party-which was a lot- they would have thought you were the couple.

“It’s just upstairs.” you said, looking back at him.

  The party inside was more wild. People were jumping all around, bumping into him and getting in his face. Doyoung focused on his feet, on moving behind you to get to the bathroom. He felt a little bit like a child walking behind their mother, but one look at you erased that feeling. In your presence, he never felt more like a man in his entire life. When you went up the stairs, Doyoung followed, trying to keep his eyes on the ground, and not up your tutu. Looking at you without your consent wasn’t the kind of man he wanted to be, even though everything in him kept edging him to look.

“Fuck, there is a long line for the bathroom.” you said, stopping at the top of the steps. You got on your tiptoes to look over the crowd. “That’s the negative part of going to a party in a big house.”

“Whose party is this?”

You shrugged. “Someone from Jaehyun’s work. I only come for the free alcohol.”

  Doyoung wedged himself into the back of the line, his body blocking off the entire hallway behind him. You followed, standing to his side, your little butterfly wings impatiently wavering the slower the line moved.

“I appreciate you coming with me.” Doyoung said.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Mmm.” he mumbled. 

  You looked at him. In the artificial light, he could see a sweep of glittery purple eyeshadow on your lids. There was a light blush on your cheeks and a pink stain on your lips. You looked so beautiful that he couldn’t look away. Though people were chattering in the line, the both of you were silent. Even as the line inched forward, neither of you talked.

 Doyoung felt caught up in his mind. He remembered the last few weeks and how pleasant they were. He had stopped being angry about you inhabiting his personal space. He stopped putting so much effort into being unhappy. He watched Jaehyun come and go from work with a smile. He was always there for you during movie night. He even helped you find a job you loved. He had made the girl he was dating his girlfriend, and had finally sealed the deal with her. He thought maybe it was the sex with her that had made him loosen up and feel happy, but he feared that it was all because you had truly seen him. He had been buzzing ever since.

“Why do you do that sometimes?” you asked, leaning against the wall, your wings getting smushed.

“Do what?”

“Stare at me and say nothing.” you said. “It���s like you have a whole monologue going on in your mind.”

Doyoung moved forward with the line. “I do. A monologue about how miserable I am in every situation. It’s not much, but it keeps me from having a mental breakdown.”

“And how do I fit into this?” you asked. “Plotting revenge? I took your boyfriend and now I must suffer?”

  You were joking, but Doyoung could hear the seriousness in your voice. You smiled to keep it lighthearted. You took his net and pulled him forward when the line moved.

“I don’t hate you anymore.” Doyoung said. “Haven’t you heard? My new rival is boyfriends who break promises to their girlfriends.”

  Suddenly, it seemed like the room had stopped moving. You knew he was talking about Jaehyun. He knew you knew. If you couldn’t sense his annoyance at Jaehyun before, you could feel it now. If he wasn’t mistaken, he could also feel your own anger sitting in the stuffy hallway with all of the drunk people, lined up in place that felt foreign. 

“Well,” you said. “I’m glad I’m not the one you hate.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever hated you, truthfully.”

“No? I think it was touch and go for a while there.”

  Doyoung shook his head. You smiled at him and choked back some laughter. His eyes widened in fake anger, his eyebrows raising up an inch.

“What’s so funny?” he asked

“I’m sorry,” you said, releasing a laugh that was like music to his ears. “It’s just that, in this lighting, with the leotard over your head, you look like an egg.”

Doyoung closed his eyes. “I hate this. I’m also glad my girlfriend isn’t here to see this.”

  At the mention of his girlfriend, you had stopped laughing. You coughed and tried to regain your composure. Doyoung moved forward again, nudging your shoulder gently with his to get you moving. You weren’t too far from the front of the line. 

“Why didn’t she come?” you asked. 

“I don’t know.”

  Doyoung did know. When he found out about the Halloween party, he was excited to invite her to her first real event with him that involved other people. She hadn’t met Jaehyun yet, hadn’t really heard of you. She was excited, too. She wanted to be let inside of Doyoung’s life, not just hovering on the outside, spending time at her place, or in cafes and bars that he hated. Because of the whole costume fiasco, she bailed at the last minute.

 You weren’t buying the lie. He could read it in your eyes. Instead of talking about it more, you gently touched his shoulder. “Hey, I am really glad we’re friends now. I don’t know many people who would do what you did for me tonight.”

“It’s nothing.” he said. “You needed me.”

 Maybe choosing to wear a couple costume with his roommate's girlfriend was the wrong choice, especially since his real girlfriend had already picked one out for them to wear. 

“We’re up next!” you said, growing excited. You moved your wings away from the wall and brought them back to their full glory. When Doyoung realized he was staring again, he looked down at the floor.

  It was his turn to use the bathroom. He barely fit through the door. You had to push him inside. As you shut the door behind you, Doyoung heard people groaning about the couple going in to have sex in the bathroom. He blushed, hoping you hadn’t heard them.

You put your hands on your hips. “Okay. How are we going to do this?”

  He didn’t like that you were eyeing him up and down. It made him feel too exposed. Though his junk was covered with nothing but net, his closed fist went to block you from view.

“Oh?” you asked. “You can look at my ass, but I can’t look at your dick?”

“No I-”

You put your hands on his shoulders. “Do-ie, relax. Anyway, you’re going to have to get naked. This won’t work, otherwise.”

“Turn around.”

“But I need to help you.” 

  You grabbed at his tubing, bending it out of shape and pushing it down far enough to free his head from the black condom. You were being so rough with him that he again got turned on. You fixed his wild black hair before stretching and pulling the neck and leotard further down his shoulders. Before you went too far and brought it all the way down his body, his hands stopped you. His touch was gentle, his eyes firm.

“I can do the rest.” he said.

You turned around. “Do you want me to leave?”

  But Doyoung couldn’t wait. He pulled and pulled the leotard down, his earlier Hulk daydream coming true. The top of it was ripping, but he didn’t care. He pulled it down, along with his underwear, grabbed his dick and aimed into the toilet. The sound of his piss was louder than it needed to be, but the relief he felt kept him away from the embarrassment he would no doubt feel as soon as he was finished.

“You’re really pissing with me in the bathroom.” you said.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hold it.”

  You held your hand over your ears, but you were giggling too. The moment was humorous, even to Doyoung. He finished pissing but he had started laughing with you, so there were still little bits dribbling out.

“How.. much.. more do you.. h-have?” you asked, your voice coming out in wisps.

“Don’t make fun of me!”

  You crossed your arms over your chest, and when Doyoung said he was decent, you turned back around to face him. The leotard was halfway up his chest because it was all he could get back up by himself. 

“That was the best piss I’ve ever taken.” he said.

“Let me help you.” you said, ignoring him.

  You yanked up the remaining length of his costume but kept the netting, tubing and the part that covered his head free. He was sweaty, and as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he thought he looked kind of sexy. He looked at you to see if maybe you thought the same, but you weren’t looking at him.

“Move.” you said. “I have to go, too.”

“Here? With me?”

“Well, yeah. Where else will I go?”

“I can wait outside.”

“No need.’

You pushed past him and started taking off your wings. “Just turn around and don’t listen. I have a shy bladder.”

  But it was hard for Doyoung not to listen. He had seen you in indecent ways since Jaehyun started dating you, but somehow, hearing your clothes hitting the floor and your naked body sitting on the toilet, it was a new kind of intimacy he wasn’t prepared for. It was a moment Jaehyun wasn’t a part of, and Doyoung didn’t know how he felt about it.

“Don’t listen!” you hissed.

“I’m not.” he whispered.

  There was a hard knock on the bathroom door but he ignored it. He was concentrating hard on the tile covering the bathroom floor, trying his best not to hear you peeing into the toilet bowl. But he did hear, and it drove him crazy with a feeling he couldn’t describe.

“I’m done,” you said.

Doyoung started to turn around but you screamed. “No! I meant that I’m done peeing. Don’t look. I’m naked.”

“Naked.” he repeated. 

  He could hear you breathing behind him, hear the way the costume sounded sliding up your body. He imagined the thin fabric covering your breasts, your nipples getting hard. He heard the scratchiness of the tutu snap into place. You turned on the water to wash your hands, and he remembered that he hadn’t either, so he closed his eyes and followed your lead.

“It’s okay.” you said. “I’m dressed, but I need help with my wings.”

He looked at you. Without the wings, you looked like a ballerina. The curls in your hair were falling out from the humidity in the bathroom. He didn't realize how hot it was getting with two people in there at once. He turned off the water and shook water from his hands.

“You’re staring.” you said, turning around.

“Sorry.”

Doyoung dried his hands on a towel hanging on a hook. He took your wings and fixed them to your back, his fingers touching the softness of your skin longer than he needed to. When he was done, you turned back around and inhaled deeply. On the exhale, you gestured to the bathroom door. Leaning over you, Doyoung flushed the toilet and walked out of the bathroom to a bunch of people clapping.

“That was record time, bud.” someone yelled.

“We didn’t have sex.” Doyoung said.

“Fucked her good.” someone else yelled.

  All Doyoung could see was a sea of eyes that wouldn’t understand. Admittedly, he began to feel good that the crowd of people thought you were his. He didn’t believe he was ever good enough to get someone like you. He looked at you to make sure you weren’t upset by the accusation, but your face was lit up with joy. You took his hand and directed him into one of the bedrooms at the end of the hall.

“Yes!” a voice echoed. “Fuck her even better!!”

“Ignore them.” you said, unfazed. “Look at this.”

  In the room you had guided him into, there was an old piano sitting in the middle of it. It was dark in the room but there was no mistaking it. The lights you turned on only made it appear more beautiful and grand, its ivory keys itching to be touched.

“How did you know this was here?” he asked. “I thought you didn’t know anyone.”

“Jaehyun talked about his musician friend. He said he had a lot of instruments in his house.” you said. “I didn’t want to be in the hallway anymore, and my guess was correct. I didn’t know what I’d find when I opened the door, but I think that’s where the fun is.”

“And where is the fun for you?” Doyoung asked, approaching the piano.

“In the not knowing.” you said. “And I’m good at that.”

  He could feel you watching him over his shoulder. Your words didn’t settle in his brain like they would if he wasn’t preoccupied. All of his thoughts were about the baby before him, the beauty in the future. Once he put his fingers on the keys, he didn’t know what would come out, but he hoped it was beautiful.

“How come you never told Jaehyun that you sing or play?” you asked, circling him.

“I never told you I play, either.”

  He looked back at you. You had the good will to appear sheepish. But it didn’t matter. Doyoung was so head over heels for you that any kind of eavesdropping only felt like progression in your relationship. Doyoung pulled out the bench and sat on it. The legs wobbled, but they held his weight fine enough. 

“Can you play me something?” you asked.

  You gingerly sat beside him, your weight joining his. It was a tight squeeze on the bench, but Doyoung loved the feeling of your warm, bare thigh against his. There was also a magical feeling in the air that kept him weighted down where he sat, the future suddenly looking not too grim. Doyoung felt comfortable, content, and free. 

“What would you like to hear?” 

“Anything.”

  Doyoung’s fingers were on the keys. He tickled a few of them and smiled when they played the most gorgeous sound. The person who owned the old piano kept it in good shape. As he geared up ready to play, he hoped it wouldn’t be so loud. He could still hear the music pumping away downstairs and guessed that no one would come in and check on them.

“Close your eyes.” Doyoung said. “Just trust me.”

  When you did as he asked, Doyoung started playing. He never really played for anyone other than when he did recitals as a kid. Growing up, his parents didn’t want him to pursue music full-time, so the piano was meant for chance meetings at music stores and moments that never came but he wished for, like this.

 The song he played was his own. He remembered it, closing his own eyes to play what he had written on paper years ago. It was romantic sitting in the room next to you, your eyes closed, just feeling the music dance all around you. Getting lost in song was his true passion, and though he didn’t plan on it, he started singing. His voice shook, at first. As each second ticked by, it grew stronger and more stable. Doyoung sang his heart out. It made him nervous that he was singing to you, and only to you. The three minutes went by quickly, the end giving out only because he started to feel nervous at what you would say about the impromptu concert. All of the negative feelings flew away when he opened his eyes and watched you clap slowly, your eyes teary, your smile relaxed.

“That was beautiful, Doyoung.” you said. “I can’t explain it, but it felt like I was frozen in time, like I was watching us from above, and everything was perfect and nothing could touch us.”

He felt shy. He took his hands off the keys and set them in his lap. “Thank you.”

“Sometimes I feel like you should quit your job and do singing full-time.” you said.” You sound so good. And the way you play...you’re special.”

“Thank you.” he said.

“I wish I could play like that.”

“You can.”

“I definitely cannot.’ you said. “The only thing these fingers are good for is breaking pistachios open and-”

  You stopped talking when Doyoung took your hand. He pressed your fingers down into the cold keys, his hand guiding you. He held in a key with your hand while his foot put pressure on the pedal. He played his song with your fingers, diligently dragging your one hand and using his other to fill in the gaps. You leaned in closer, your body enchanted by the sound you were making. Your head was almost on his shoulder, and for a second, Doyoung swore he could feel you wanting so badly to rest it there.

“There is so much more about you I’ve yet to learn.” you said.

“I’m a pretty open book.”

You side-eyed him. “Another lie. Doyoung, we’ve essentially lived together for three months. When will you understand that I know you a lot better than you think. I know all your secrets.”

Doyoung let go of your hand. “Not all of them.”

 There it was again: The Silence. Doyoung wanted to close the lid of the piano and leave the room. He wanted to walk his way through the house, passing Jaehyun without saying anything, and he wanted to go home where it was safe. Instead, he looked at you, his gaze falling to your lips. You leaned in first, brave enough to grab the side of his cheek and pull him towards you.

 There was no music in the room, but as you kissed, Doyoung could hear every single note of every laughter you’ve ever spilled because of him, every gasp, every sigh. He moved closer on the bench and put his finger underneath your chin, tilting your head up just a little bit. The kiss that started soft was getting aggressive, the feeling of his tongue wanting to break through your lips. 

 It was the moment he had been thinking about for months. His head was mostly empty of thoughts. There were no regrets. There weren’t any distractions, any inner monologues guiding him. All that was there were your lips and the softness of your hand against his face. He tasted your breath, your tongue, your lips. Somehow, the silence didn’t seem all that bad anymore. 

 But, then, Doyoung’s elbow came down on the piano and the sharp sound broke both of you apart. You wiped your lips and he got up from the bench, his fist up against his mouth and his eyes darting back and forth.

“I should go.” you said, getting up too.

“Right.”

  You walked across the room, passing Doyoung without looking at him. You barely made it to the door before you walked briskly back to him and threw your body in his arms. Doyoung’s hands were up your back, crushing your wings. He welcomed your lips with an open mouth, pulling your body up against his until he felt like one person. You both stood swaying in one spot, making out, and clinging to each other.

“This is cheating.” Doyoung said. You went to kiss him again, but he stepped back. “I can’t do it to Jaehyun, or to my girlfriend.”

“It’s already done.”

October 31, Halloween.

  There were so many empty candy wrappers in the bowl. Doyoung sat on the couch with the plastic bowl in his lap that was meant for trick-or-treaters. No one had knocked on his door for over an hour, so he figured the rest of the candy was his to share with no one. You and Jaehyun were out at yet another Halloween party, and he was left alone to watch old-timey scary movies and think about the previous night.

  He had kissed you a lot. After he said he wouldn’t kiss you again, he had backed you against the wall and kissed you some more. If he were actually drunk, he wasn't so sure he wouldn’t have placed you on top of the piano and fucked you. Still, making out was just as sinful as all of the things he thought about doing to your body. 

  Afterwards, you both went downstairs to find Jaehyun playing beer pong. He was cocky and drunk, and he had no idea that either of you had been gone for awhile. Doyoung couldn’t stick around. He leaned in and let you know he was leaving. You didn’t try and stop him. Ever since, he was wondering if it was a good thing. The less interaction you had together, the easier it was for him to stop thinking about kissing you.

Not really. He still thought about it.

  Doyoung was grateful for the second Halloween party, which he was invited to. He politely declined, citing his need for rest after a long party. Jaehyun thought his roommate got really drunk. If only he knew Doyoung was drunk with love, maybe then he wouldn’t let him around his girlfriend so easily.

 So, sitting on the couch alone didn’t seem so bad in the grand scheme of things. He could stuff his face with candy and wallow in his own feelings. There was a sting of jealousy whenever he thought about you having a good time with Jaehyun, the tail to your little cat costume in his hands. When the worst got the best of him, he imagined Jaehyun tugging you to him and kissing you on the same lips he kissed last night.

 The doorbell startled Doyoung. He picked up his bowl and went to the door, swinging it open with a cheery smile on his face. There was no one there, which made him feel foolish.

“Do people still do that?” he called down the hallway. “Ring the bell and run away?”

  Doyoung shut the door behind him. He rummaged his hands in the candy bowl as he walked back to the couch, plucking out a milk chocolate bar. Before he made it to his safe haven, the doorbell sounded. Quickly, he made it to the door and swung it open. Again, it was empty.

“If I catch you, you won’t like what happens to you.” he called.

  He shut the door but didn’t move from behind it. He would catch the kids who were messing with him. He waited a few minutes but there was nothing. He set the bowl down on the side table and opened the door to see you standing there.

“Hi.” you said.

“Hello.”

Your cat tail was in your hands. You looked worn out, the pink makeup on your nose halfway rubbed away. You smiled, looking down at his empty hands.

“Where is the candy?” you asked. “I heard there was some candy left.”

  Not knowing how to respond, Doyoung looked behind the door and brought the candy bowl. It sat against his ribs, dividing him from you.

“Trick-or-treat.” you said, your eyes not wavering from his.

“Treat. “Doyoung said, dropping the candy bowl on the floor, crossing the threshold, and setting his lips on yours.

[lofitowns]

Hey Can I request an imagine, about natsu receiving a massage from a fem s/o pls? Thank you

tough knots

❝ I CAN’T HOLD ENOUGH OF YOU IN MY HANDS ❞

pairing: natsu dragneel x gn! reader

word count: 907

genre: fluff

summary: in which natsu can’t sleep and goes for you for comfort 

warnings: n/a

a/n: i have a few things to say!

     1. i changed my username! i was lovelygranger but i changed to lofitowns!

     2. if you take a look at my rules, i try and keep the reader gender neutral so that’s how i wrote this imagine.

     3. thank you for requesting! i don’t often read or write about massages so it took me some time to come up with an idea! i hope it’s alright and what you wanted :)

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

     Tonight was one of those rare nights where Natsu was quiet. It seemed an almost unnerving contrast to his normally spunky and intense self. 

     The Grand Magic Games had ended a few days prior, the events finally sinking into everyone’s mind. The dragons, the destruction, and of course, the little blip in time. 

     Natsu’s back slouched as he sat at the end of his bed. His fingers played with the hem of his vest, tugging on a loose thread. The soft sound of snores filtered through the room. He looked at their point of origin, a blue exceed. Happy was curled up on the pillow, the ever-present smile still on his face as he slept.

     The dragon slayer felt stiff, all his muscles screaming at him. He never noticed he was starting to ache until it was too late. The constant movements of the past few days had put more stress, mentally and physically, on him then he would have thought. And the knowledge of what could happen in a year was weighing heavy on his mind.

     He stretched his legs out before getting up and padding towards the door. He tried to open it quietly, but it still let out a low creek. Natsu looked behind him to make sure he didn’t wake Happy before shutting the door on his way out.

     You were laying in bed, clutching the sheets. You had been tossing and turning restlessly for hours now and you so desperately wanted to sleep. Maybe you’d feel better once you were back in your room in Magnolia. You had half a mind to go see Natsu, see if the change of scenery would help. You tried to shake the thought. He went through all that and was probably trying to get-

     Your thoughts were cut short by the sound of a knock on your door. You reached up and rubbed your eyes before slipping out of bed. A yawn rose from the back of your throat, eyes squinting at the new light coming in from the hallway. 

     “Natsu?” You questioned, stepping to the side to allow him entry, “You okay?”

     A sigh passed his lips as he walked to your bed. He stopped when his knees met the edge and belly-flopped, the weight of his body making him bounce. 

     Your eyebrow quirked, you wanted to ask what was wrong but you didn’t want to push him. You moved back to the bed, sitting next to him. You reached your hand out, rubbing the pads of your fingers up and down his back. The relaxed sigh that fell from his lips was nearly muffled by your stiff sheets.

     “Would you... Rub my back?” He seemed almost hesitant to ask, which surprised you. He still wasn’t used to being completely vulnerable around someone. He always felt the need to keep up with his carefree and reckless nature. He just needed your touch right now.

     “Yeah, of course.”

     Your position shifted. His vest was shed as he rested on his stomach, cheek pressed into your pillow. You sat on your knees beside him, leaning over to coast your fingers up and down his back. 

     Touches so intimate had been foreign to him before. He had never thought that much into romantic relationships, always seemingly busy with something else. There was just something about you that made his heart beat faster. 

     It was almost surprising how quickly Natsu realized he craved physical touch. Your hands could be anywhere on his body and he would be content. He wasn’t too fond of it in public though, choosing to keep it as a private moment between the two of you. 

     Your hands rolled over his shoulders, wandered down his back. They dug into the tight muscles of his biceps and brushed over his shoulder blades. 

     Natsu kept his eyes closed, a few murmurs or content sighs passing his lips. But, every once in awhile, his eyes would open to take you in. The moonlight was shining in through the window, giving you a pale halo. You looked ethereal. Like an angel. The look of adoration that filled your face made his breath hitch.

     As you were about to shift your hands, Natsu took the chance to take one of them and press your palm to his lips. Your eyes raised to his face, the pink mess of hair sprawled on your pillow, and the half-lidded eyes. 

     “Thank you,” His voice was soft, you weren’t sure you had ever heard him like this. “I just couldn’t sleep. Thank you for relaxing me.”

     You grinned brightly down at your boyfriend, “Natsu, you know I’d do anything for you.” 

     His intertwined his fingers with yours, his eyes never left your face as he pulled you down next to him. The two of you laid on your sides, faces inches apart. You could feel his warm breath fanning over your lips. Instinctively, you moved forward, crashing your lips together. 

     The kiss was surprisingly soft, his hand holding your cheek. You reached up and placed your hand over his, rubbing your thumb along his bruised knuckles.

     You separated for air, sending each other smiles filled with such fondness. 

     “Come on, let’s try and get some sleep,” Your voice came out as a whisper, trying not to kill the somnolent mood. He nodded in agreement, taking you in his arms and resting his forehead on your shoulder. 

     “Good night, (y/n).”

     “Good night, Natsu.”

thank you for reading :) have a good day!

[theatticoneighth]

Watching The Queen’s Gambit; on the Remarkable Unexceptionality of Beth Harmon

‘With some people, chess is a pastime. With others, it is a compulsion, even an addiction. And every now and then, a person comes along for whom it is a birthright. Now and then, a small boy appears and dazzles us with his precocity, at what may be the world’s most difficult game. But what if that boy were a girl? A young, unsmiling girl, with brown eyes, red hair, and a dark blue dress? Into the male-dominated world of the nation’s top chess tournaments, strolls a teenage girl with bright, intense eyes, from Fairfield High School in Lexington, Kentucky. She is quiet, well-mannered, and out for blood.’

The preceding epigraph opens a fictional profile of Beth Harmon featured in the third episode of The Queen’s Gambit (2020), and is written and published after the protagonist — a teenage, rookie chess player, no less — beats a series of ranked pros to win her first of many tournaments. In the same deft manner as it depicts the character’s ascent to her global chess stardom, the piece also sets up the series’s narrative: this is evidence of a great talent, it tells us, a grandmaster in the making. As with most other stories about prodigies, this new entry into a timeworn genre is framed unexceptionally by its subject’s exceptionality.

Yet as far as tales regaled about young chess wunderkinds go, Beth Harmon’s stands out in more ways than one. That she is a girl in a male-dominated world has clearly not gone unremarked by both her diegetic and nondiegetic audiences. That her life has thus far — and despite her circumstances — been relatively uneventful, however, is what makes this show so remarkable. After all, much of our culture has undeniably primed us to expect the consequential from those whom we raise upon the pedestal of genius. As Harmon’s interviewer suggests in her conversation with Harmon for the latter’s profile, “Creativity and psychosis often go hand in hand. Or, for that matter, genius and madness.” So quickly do we attribute extraordinary accomplishments to similarly irregular origins that we presume an inexplicability of our geniuses: their idiosyncrasies are warranted, their bad behaviours are excused, and deep into their biographies we dig to excavate the enigmatic anomalies behind their gifts. Through our myths of exceptionality, we make the slightest aberrations into metonyms for brilliance.

Nonetheless, for all her sullenness, non-conformity, and her plethora of addictions, Beth Harmon seems an uncommonly normal girl. No doubt this may be a contentious view, as evinced perhaps by the chorus of viewers and reviewers alike who have already begun to brand the character a Mary Sue. Writing on the series for the LA Review of Books, for instance, Aaron Bady construes The Queen’s Gambit as “the tragedy of Bobby Fischer [made] into a feminist fantasy, a superhero story.” In the same vein, Jane Hu also laments in her astute critique of the Cold War-era drama its flagrant and saccharine wish-fulfillment tendencies. “The show gets to have it both ways,” she observes, “a beautiful heroine who leans into the edge of near self-destruction, but never entirely, because of all the male friends she makes along the way.” Sexual difference is here reconstituted as the unbridgeable chasm that divides the US from the Soviet Union, whereas the mutual friendliness shared between Harmon and her male chess opponents becomes a utopic revision of history. Should one follow Hu’s evaluation of the series as a period drama, then the retroactive ascription of a recognisably socialist collaborative ethos to Harmon and her compatriots is a contrived one indeed. 

Accordingly, both Hu and Bady conclude that the series grants us depthless emotional satisfaction at the costly expense of realism: its all-too-easy resolutions swiftly sidestep any nascent hint of overwhelming tension; its resulting calm betrays our desire for reprieve. Underlying these arguments is the fundamental assumption that the unembellished truth should also be an inconvenient one, but why must we always demand difficulty from those we deem noteworthy? Summing up the show’s conspicuous penchant for conflict-avoidance, Bady writes that: 

over and over again, the show strongly suggests — through a variety of genre and narrative cues — that something bad is about to happen. And then … it just doesn’t. An orphan is sent to a gothic orphanage and the staff … are benign. She meets a creepy, taciturn old man in the basement … and he teaches her chess and loans her money. She is adopted by a dysfunctional family and the mother … takes care of her. She goes to a chess tournament and midway through a crucial game she gets her first period and … another girl helps her, who she rebuffs, and she is fine anyway. She wins games, defeating older male players, and … they respect and welcome her, selflessly helping her. The foster father comes back and …she has the money to buy him off. She gets entangled in cold war politics and … decides not to be.

In short, everything that could go wrong … simply does not go wrong.

Time and again predicaments arise in Harmon’s narrative, but at each point, she is helped fortuitously by the people around her. In turn, the character is allowed to move through the series with the restrained unflappability of a sleepwalker, as if unaffected by the drama of her life.  Of course, this is not to say that she fails to encounter any obstacle on her way to celebrity and success — for neither her childhood trauma nor her substance-laden adolescence are exactly rosy portraits of idyll — but only that such challenges seem so easily ironed out by that they hardly register as true adversity. In other words, the show takes us repeatedly to the brink of what could become a life-altering crisis but refuses to indulge our taste for the spectacle that follows. Skipping over the Aristotelian climax, it shields us from the height of suspense, and without much struggle or effort on the viewers’ part, hands us our payoff. Consequently lacking the epochal weight of plot, little feels deserved in Harmon’s story.

In his study of eschatological fictions, The Sense of an Ending, Frank Kermode would associate such a predilection for catastrophes with our abiding fear of disorder. Seeing as time, as he argues, is “purely successive [and] disorganised,” we can only reach to the fictive concords of plot to make sense of our experiences. Endings in particular serve as the teleological objective towards which humanity projects our existence, so we hold paradigms of apocalypse closely to ourselves to restore significance to our lives. It probably comes as no surprise then that in a year of chaos and relentless disaster — not to mention the present era of extreme precariousness, doomscrolling, and the 24/7 news cycle, all of which have irrevocably attuned us to the dreadful expectation of “the worst thing to come” — we find ourselves eyeing Harmon’s good fortune with such scepticism. Surely, we imagine, something has to have happened to the character for her in order to justify her immense consequence. But just as children are adopted each day into loving families and chess tournaments play out regularly without much strife, so too can Harmon maintain low-grade dysfunctional relationships with her typically flawed family and friends. 

In any case, although “it seems to be a condition attaching to the exercise of thinking about the future that one should assume one's own time to stand in extraordinary relation to it,” not all orphans have to face Dickensian fates and not all geniuses have to be so tortured (Kermode). The fact remains that the vagaries of our existence are beyond perfect reason, and any attempt at thinking otherwise, while vital, may be naive. Contrary to most critics’ contentions, it is hence not The Queen’s Gambit’s subversions of form but its continued reach towards the same that holds up for viewers such a comforting promise of coherence. The show comes closest to disappointing us as a result when it eschews melodrama for the straightforward. Surprised by the ease and randomness of Harmon’s life, it is not difficult for one to wonder, four or five episodes into the show, what it is all for; one could even begin to empathise with Hu’s description of the series as mere “fodder for beauty.” 

Watching over the series now with Bady’s recap of it in mind, however, I am reminded oddly not of the prestige and historical dramas to which the series is frequently compared, but the low-stakes, slice-of-life cartoons that had peppered my childhood. Defined by the prosaicness of its settings, the genre punctuates the life’s mundanity with brief moments of marvel to accentuate the curious in the ordinary. In these shows, kindergarteners fix the troubles of adults with their hilarious playground antics, while time-traveling robot cats and toddler scientists alike are confronted with the woes of chores. Likewise, we find in The Queen’s Gambit a comparable glimpse of the quotidian framed by its protagonist’s quirks. Certainly, little about the Netflix series’ visual and narrative features would identify it as a slice-of-life serial, but there remains some merit, I believe, in watching it as such. For, if there is anything to be gained from plots wherein nothing is introduced that cannot be resolved in an episode or ten, it is not just what Bady calls the “drowsy comfort” of satisfaction — of knowing that things will be alright, or at the very least, that they will not be terrible. Rather, it is the sense that we are not yet so estranged from ourselves, and that both life and familiarity persists even in the most extraordinary of circumstances.

Perhaps some might find such a tendency towards the normal questionable, yet when all the world is on fire and everyone clambers for acclaim, it is ultimately the ongoingness of everyday life for which one yearns. As Harmon’s childhood friend, Jolene, tells her when she is once again about to fall off the wagon, “You’ve been the best at what you do for so long, you don’t even know what it’s like for the rest of us.” For so long, and especially over the past year, we have catastrophized the myriad crises in which we’re living that we often overlook the minor details and habits that nonetheless sustain us. To inhabit the congruence of both the remarkable and its opposite in the singular figure of Beth Harmon is therefore to be reminded of the possibility of being outstanding without being exceptional — that is, to not make an exception of oneself despite one’s situation — and to let oneself be drawn back, however placid or insignificant it may be, into the unassuming hum of dailiness. It is in this way of living that one lives on, minute by minute, day by day, against the looming fear and anxiety that seek to suspend our plodding regular existence. It is also in this way that I will soon be turning the page on the last few months in anticipation of what is to come. 

Born and raised in the perpetually summery tropics — that is, Singapore — Rachel Tay wishes she could say her life was just like a still from Call Me By Your Name: tanned boys, peaches, and all. Unfortunately, the only resemblance that her life bears to the film comes in the form of books, albeit ones read in the comfort of air-conditioned cafés, and not the pool, for the heat is sweltering and the humidity unbearable. A fervent turtleneck-wearer and an unrepentant hot coffee-addict, she is thus the ideal self-parodying Literature student, and the complete anti-thesis to tropical life.

[jimlingss]

The Colour of Our Voices [9]

Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10

➜ Words: 3.3k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

➜ Warning: Intoxication. 

cr.

The phone rings.   It wakes you, deafeningly loud. It shakes you in the middle of your slumber. Usually, you’re the one dialing, but you don’t dwell. With one eye open, you grab your phone off the nightstand.   “Hello?”   “Hello?”    The voice on the other line is unmistakable. “Hi, is this Ms. Y/N?”   “Yes, it is.” You clear your throat, trying to rid of the grogginess. “How may I help you?”   “I’m the casting director for the original production of When Summer Meets Winter here in New York. We were wondering if you were still interested and willing to set up a convenient date to meet and audition for a main role.”   “W-what?” You sit up, hauling the rest of your limbs that are still asleep. Your mouth opens and closes, brows furrowing, wondering if this is a dream. “I mean….I would love to!”   “Great, I look forward to meeting you soon.”   “I just—” You rub your swollen eyes, utterly confused. The opportunity fell straight into your lap out of nowhere. “I didn’t even put in an application. I didn’t sign up, so I’m just wondering how you got in touch with me….”   It’s not possible that the director would actually give you a referral. But why would someone reach out to you like this? It’s never happened before. It’s never happened to anyone before. No one like you without any fame or recognition.   “Well, aren’t you the voice of Erik, the Phantom in Phantom of the Opera?”   The line goes silent. Your mind is reeling.   “Pardon?”   //   “The Phantom of the Opera production proved to be a lackluster performance and has an even more uninspired director—” Seokjin looks away from his phone, jaw dropped to the ground. He’s offended to no end. “Lackluster?! Lackluster?! She complimented me! What the hell is this?!”   Taeyeon takes away the phone from his hand and continues to read for herself.   Her eyes skim along the blog post to pick up where he stopped. “The casting was severely shortsighted and purely on appearance alone without consideration for talent. They were unable to cast a sufficient troupe and failed to see that it is talent that makes audiences stay.”   “Oh my god. This is ridiculous!” Seokjin slaps his palm against his forehead, turning around in complete disbelief. He is stunned to silence.   “Now I am able to understand how one of the most popular musicals known to the mainstream could do so poorly in Broadway theater here in New York. But the production...doesn’t go without surprises.” Taeyeon pauses and everyone around is on the edge of their seats, breaths held in their throat. She inhales and continues to read, articulating carefully. “The only redeeming quality of the production was the wonderful and rather charming singing. But all the credit is not due to the dull actors or stale taste of the director. It is credited to the ghost singer, Y/N…”   Heads turn. Eyes pinpoint to you.   You hold the spotlight that’s coloured red — painting you into a demon that’s crawled from out of hell, someone worthy of their hatred and disgust. This is the attention you never desired.   They regard you with spite, animosity, malice.   Director Kang swipes the phone out of Taeyeon’s grasp. He looks at it and continues reading silently. A muscle in his cheek twitches. There’s murmuring amongst the crowd. He swallows hard and decides to repeat it out loud, as if to let the simmering anger purposely over-boil.   “The real singer of Phantom is disguised as an innocent intern who sweeps the floor and does coffee runs. It was revealed to me after the show while I was still recovering from the physical torture of being seated in such a corny performance. Y/N approached me out on the street when I was caught unaware. While I was unable to make further contact with the ghost singer afterwards, the claim was indeed confirmed by inside sources I was able to obtain.”   All of it is exposed — how Seokjin has a speaker within his clothes, how the pitch is turned down, how you’re the one behind the curtain.   The secret is out. It’s been revealed to the world.   The curtain’s been pulled while you’re in the middle of a lyric, and now you’re suddenly center stage with the red spotlight and the faceless audience watching.   Director Kang scrolls to the end of the critic’s article. His voice is quiet, a murmur, slow to read like he wants everyone to hear. He wants you to hear.   “I found myself constantly wondering when it would be over. Ultimately, even the tender singing of the ghost singer could not make up for the empty performance. However, it is spectacular how they could turn such a beloved, well known musical into a boring travesty. I would recommend it to anyone who would like an inauthentic experience and who suffers from insomnia as it would certainly put them to sleep…”   The director suddenly slaps the phone to Seokjin’s chest.   The actor winces and takes it back. You flinch as well.   The pointed glare is narrowed in on you. His jaw is clenched, teeth gritted.   It’s a mistake — you can fix this. You didn’t mean what you said. It came out when you were furious and not thinking. Maybe you can go see Min Yoonji, tell her it was all a misunderstanding and she’ll take down the blog post!   Yet, you can’t utter these things. You can’t beg your way out of it.   It was chaos when you came, people staring, murmuring. It’s been spread everywhere already, not just contained within this production. Everyone knows now — the entire community of Broadway.   You’ve single-handedly ruined this production with your recklessness. You’ve illegitimized their production, and with the anger in their stares, you know you’ve destroyed their livelihood.   You’ve wrecked it all.   But there’s no noise of the destruction. There is deafening silence in the studio.   “Clean out your stuff.”   “Director—”   “Enough. Get out.” He points to the door. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”   It’s the worst. There’s no yelling, screaming. He doesn’t even throw a chair like he once did to an actor with a supporting role who failed to show up during dress rehearsal. There’s nothing.   You’ve always envisioned yourself leaving this job with a role in hand, having a secure future, knowing you’d make it on Broadway like they did. You’d be able to walk with your head held up high. You’d hear people’s reluctant praises, grumbling about how you actually did it. The director would nod his head in approval. Seokjin and Taeyeon would offer a small smile.   It was your dream — what you imagined on hard days. It’s what Jimin had accomplished.   But the reality is that you’re cleaning out your belongings while crying. You empty the locker you were once so excited to have. There’s no acknowledgment, no pitiful stares or goodbyes of the people you’ve worked with for the past year.   Twelve months. Three hundred sixty five days. Eight thousand sixty hours. Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes. Thirty-one million five hundred forty thousand seconds.   It was the job that you hated. The one that you loved. The one you were so happy to get.   You’re fired just like that, gripping your cardboard box, absolutely humiliated.   Even as you leave the studio, up the stairs and into the lobby, you can hear the whispers. You can feel people’s eyes following your backside.    In the snap of a finger, the span of one morning, you are fired.   //   The rosette wine tastes disgusting.   It sits heavy on your tongue, bitter on your lips and dries out your mouth to the back of your throat. It’s a taste you have yet to acquire, but maybe you’ll find at the bottom of the bottle.    You grip the neck, taking another swig. It’s a disgusting mouthful as if you’re downing mouthwash after making out with a stranger at a club and you’re still able to feel their bad breath on your own. But instead of making those reckless decisions in an attempt to find instant gratification, you’re sitting on the floor of your bathroom in the dark.   It’s comforting. You can’t see anything. Hopefully, if you drink enough, you won’t feel anything either.   “Bitch, who do you think you are?” you ask yourself, and respond to yourself. It’s a one woman show. A one way conversation. “You’re talentless, poor, and now jobless. Congratulations to a new low.”   You toast yourself with another swig.   This wine is probably the last thing you’ll buy in a while. It’s your final purchase, one you shouldn’t have gotten, but that you desperately needed. What you have saved isn’t even enough to pay the rent at the end of this month.   You should go home.    “Home? Fuck.” The back of your head hits against the wall and you sigh. “They don’t want me there.”   But if you don’t go home, what are you supposed to do here?   Oh yeah...you have that one audition. They called you this morning.   But they don’t want you for you. You didn’t earn it through merit. It’s because you’re popular news, a scandal they can capitalize on and use as a method of publicity. You didn’t get it because of your own talent or skill.    You start sniffling. “Oh shit…”   Quickly, you take another drink before you can burst into tears. You swallow past the thick lump forming in your throat, letting your eyes sting. You won’t cry — you already did enough of that earlier.   You don’t want something like that. To go to an audition where they won’t take you seriously, where their sole purpose is to satisfy their own curiosity. Where you’re Y/N, the ghost singer. Not Y/N, the aspiring actress.   Fuck — you take another sip — you have no job, no real auditions, no work. If you stay, you’ll have to give up on Broadway. Maybe you’d find work elsewhere, at some company, an office job at a cubicle. It doesn’t sound so bad halfway through the rosette.   A nine to five job would be stable. You’d hate it. But at least you’d have some income.   You take another drink with a sigh, and another, and another. Until you come up empty. Until the bitter liquid doesn’t meet your lips anymore. You tip the bottle over your lap with a giggle, and when nothing is spilled, you realize that it’s all finished. Perhaps you could go to the convenience store and find something else to drink…..   But your train of thought is suddenly interrupted.   It’s perfect timing.   You can hear the sound of water running between the walls of your apartment, trickling down the pipes in steady streams. But the noise is joined with someone’s muffled voice. It’s faint, but audible, a sweet tone leaking past the walls.   Jimin’s singing in the shower.   His bathroom is placed right next to yours, both a coincidence and a rather big invasion of privacy. The wall between your apartment seems to be especially thin here too despite it being a place where pipes should run. But it’s echoing, his singing melody quiet, though still discernible.   “In my life, she has burst like the music of angels, the light of the sun. And my life seems to stop as if something is over and something has scarcely begun.”   You gather your knees together, listening carefully. It’s nice. But Jimin’s voice has always been pleasant to the ears.   “In my life. There is someone who touches my life. Waiting near.”   “Waiting here…” you finish singing the phrase, closing your eyes to savour the melody.   “A heart full of love. A heart full of song.” You murmur after him, a duet that he’s unaware of. “I'm doing everything all wrong…”   You hate that you hate him. You hate that it turned out this way. You hate yourself for hating Jimin.   And with that hatred, you find the strength to get on your feet again, stumbling upwards.   He once came pounding at your door when he heard your voice. Now it’s you who’s coming after hearing his voice. It’s close to midnight, but you knock on Jimin’s door like a crazed man.   “Jimin! Jimin, come out!” You drum against the surface of his door with your closed fist. You miss him. You miss him so much that it hurts. “Right now!”   Jimin opens the door and finds you staring at him.   “Y/N?”   You reach over to hug him, wasting no time to envelop his torso in a tight embrace. Your arms wrap around his body, uncaring that the dark strands of his hair continues to drip — he’s always toweled off his head haphazardly; you often worried he’d get sick from it.   He’s shirtless, just in his pajama pants, but you don’t care about that either. It’s actually kind of nice to see him without his shirt, but you don’t want to admit that out loud. Instead, your cheek unabashedly squishes against the skin of his chest. He smells of shampoo and orange soap. And he’s as warm as you remember. Toasty like a sizzled out campfire that just had a roaring flame.    You’ve been wanting to hold him again ever since he held you in the backseat of that taxi.   He’s caught off guard, stiffening automatically. But his senses pick up the scent of something familiar radiating off of you. Alcohol. “Are you drunk?”   Oh yeah. You’re supposed to be pissed at him.    “What’s the matter with you, huh?”   “What?”   You let go, stepping back and pointing your finger right at his face. It’s hard to point when he keeps swaying back and forth, or rather it’s you who’s swaying, balance completely off. But you manage to bring your index finger right between his eyebrows where that knot usually forms when he frowns. You hate that knot. “The hell’s wrong with you, Park?”   Your voice is slurring. You’re tipping from side to side. Jimin is utterly confused.   You lower your arm with an exasperated sigh. You wish he just got it — that he could read your mind. You hate having to explain. “Why’d you stay with me when I got this removed, huh?”   You point to your stomach, finger circling the general area of where your stupid appendix used to be.    “You’re not making any sense.” Jimin cringes at how loud you’re being and looks down the hall to see if there’s anyone there. He takes a sigh of relief when there’s no one angry enough to make a noise complaint and his hand reaches out to take you inside his apartment. “Y/N—”   But you flinch back and wag your finger at him. “Nuh-uh. Don’t touch!”   “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”   “Don’t wanna get confused,” you scold him. He was such a sly dog. “Naught, naught, Minnie. Wanna make my head more of a mess than it already is...”   “Can you at least come inside?” he coaxes gently after realizing you’re completely barefoot in your pajamas, your toes sticking out from the end of your pants. It looks cold, and he quickly steps back to give you space.   You oblige, but enter only enough to shut the door. You wanna be able to escape if you need to….though you’re not sure where the door knob is. He could probably stop you if he wanted to.   “Were you drinking by yourself?” he asks, searching your expression.   “Why?” Your head quirks and your lips pout. “Why’d you care about me?”   He swallows hard and scratches the back of his neck. “I’ll always care about you, Y/N.”   “You oughta hate me.”   Jimin holds your stare, completely calm. His brown eyes are gorgeous. They remind you of a puppy’s. And you kind of want to ruffle his damp hair with your fingers. “I don’t hate you.”   “But, but,” you blubber. He still doesn’t get it. “You’re supposed to! It’s only natural.”   He smiles softly, eyes lit with mirth and amusement. “Why is it natural?”   “Cause I’m so mean!” you cry out. It’s official. Park Jimin is dumb and needs you to spell everything out for him. “Told you I hate you. That you were annoying and bothersome and, and irritating, and that I regret teaching you, and how we’re not even friends, and we’re strangers, and that you’re annoying, and bothersome, and irritating—”   “Okay, okay. I get it.” He laughs tenderly, like he’s having fun watching you, and that’s annoying.   “Does that not bother you?”   “It does.” Jimin locks his eyes with yours again. His voice softens. “It does…”   “But you don’t hate me?”   He shakes his head. He didn’t even need to think about it.   But you already knew his answer.   Automatically, you burst out into tears. Jimin’s alarmed at once, eyes wide, nearly falling out of their sockets. His palms lift, but he remembers your warning of not wanting to be touched, so he doesn’t lay a finger on you. But he’s still at a loss, not knowing what to do, reduced to awkwardly fumbling the air.    “Y/N, a-are you okay? W-What’s wrong? Are you hurt?!”   You hiccup, numb to the feeling of patheticness. But then you feel a sudden urgency. “T-There’s something I wanna tell you. It’s really, really, really important!”   Jimin nods slowly and puts down his hands as you wipe your eyes with the long sleeve of your pajama shirt. “What is it?”   “I!” You point to yourself and then point to him. “Love! Your! Voice!”   Jimin blinks.   You continue like it’s something you must get off your mind before you forget, “I never got to say — you have such a good tone. It’s sweet. Like sponge cake. And it’s natural. I’m jealous.”   Your sniffle and sigh, lolling your head to the side. You think about it for a moment and then hum, once again confirming your own opinion. There’s no way in this world that you can be wrong. You’ll stand with your beliefs until the end of time. “Your tenor is so nice. It’s purple.”   “Purple?”   The corner of Jimin’s mouth curls, brow lifted.   “Purple!” you tell him quickly, as if you’re afraid of dying and fearful that no one gets to hear this secret. “The colour of your voice is purple.” You pop the ‘p’s with your lips and giggle tearfully. It bubbles out like the fizz of the wine and instantly, Jimin smiles. “You have beautiful voice colour.”   “What’s your colour?” he asks quietly, all too curious.   “Orange, obviously.” You can’t believe he doesn’t know. This wasn’t new news.   “Duh.” Jimin plays along with a heartfelt laugh.   “Duh!” you repeat after him with an enormous grin. “But I don’t like it as much.”   “Why not?”   “Cause I love purple!”   Your finger peeks out of your sleeve again. This time, it isn’t to point at his face but to jut at his chest, poke right over where his heart is. You smile up at him and Jimin notices how moist your eyes are, glassy almost. He can see each of your lashes when you’re this close, and he can’t help letting his eyes run over the slope of your nose to your cupid’s bow.    Your lips look soft. A bit stained from the wine. You have an intoxicating scent that isn’t from the alcohol alone. He has an urge to pull you in close by the waist, the small of your back, to breathe in deeply, and to kiss you.   Jimin wants to kiss you. He has since the first time he heard you sing and wanted to hear your voice muffled between his lips. He hasn’t — only yearned to. But it’s difficult to push away the longing at this moment. Though he swallows hard and dispels the thoughts away.    He won’t kiss you. Not tonight at least.   For now, he’ll hang onto how your voice calls his name, the slurred sound of you telling him you love his voice, the way your lips form when you say that his voice is purple — and the noise you make when you giggle and confess how much you love that colour.

[terramythos]

TerraMythos' 2020 Reading Challenge - Book 34 of 26

Title: The Harbors of the Sun (2017) (The Books of the Raksura #5)

Author: Martha Wells

Genre/Tags: Fantasy, Epic Fantasy, Adventure, LGBT Protagonist, Female Protagonist (Kind Of), Third-Person

Rating: 9/10

Date Began: 12/11/2020

Date Finished: 12/25/2020

Moon and his friends are reeling from the betrayal of a former ally. With several members of their party kidnapped, and a mysterious weapon stolen by their new enemy, the chase is on. He and the others must infiltrate unknown territory to rescue their missing family and avert a deadly calamity. At the same time, a massive army of Fell are gathering to attack the Reaches. The Raksuran colonies of Indigo Cloud and Opal Night must join forces to defend their home before they are overrun and destroyed. 

“But you don’t want to be near Fell,” Moon guessed. Considering what had happened to Shade when they had been captured by the Fell flight northwest of the Reaches, it was only rational. 

“No, I don’t.” He looked at Moon hopelessly. “Is that weak?” 

Consorts were supposed to be weak and delicate and need everything done for them, but Moon and Shade were different, and nothing was going to change that. And “weak” wasn’t really the right word for what Shade meant. What he was trying to say was harder to express. It was giving into feelings other people thought you were supposed to have about things that shouldn’t have happened to you in the first place, but were not like the actual feelings you did have. There wasn’t a word for that in Raksuran or Altanic or Kedaic or any other language Moon knew. Moon said, “It’s not weak.” 

Full review, some spoilers, and content warning(s) under the cut. 

Content warnings for the book:  Graphic violence and action. Implied past r*pe (it’s the same plot point as previous books). Genocide is a big plot point of this one. 

The Harbors of the Sun is the fifth, and presumably final, book in the Raksura series. And boy what a ride it's been. I've enjoyed settling in with a longer fantasy series. While I'm excited to read something new, I'll miss these characters and the captivating world they inhabit. Since this is probably the last installment, I'll look into book-specific details, but also provide some series retrospective commentary. I won't touch on everything, just things that stick out to me.

From what I can tell, The Harbors of the Sun is a little controversial with long time fans. I can see why, and it's the same reason I added "Epic Fantasy" to the tag list. Most of the series has focused on small-scale conflicts centering on the Raksuran characters. There's hints of large-scale stuff in The Siren Depths, but that crisis is averted, so thus not fully realized. However, these last two books contain a much longer storyline, and the stakes in The Harbors of the Sun are potentially catastrophic not just for the Raksura, but thousands if not millions of people. Think The Lord of the Rings trilogy vs The Hobbit in terms of ramp up.

Due to the larger scale, this book also embraces a rotating point of view. The original trilogy is entirely from Moon's perspective, and The Edge of Worlds only dips its toes into alternate POVs. The Harbors of the Sun features multiple character groups all doing important things to the story, so there's lots of perspective shifts. While I still consider Moon the main character, he shares the stage with many others.

Personally, I like the scaled up conflict. It seems like a natural progression of the series. While not every point of view wows me, finally seeing some stuff from Jade and Chime's perspective (for example) is really cool. While Moon is an enjoyable protagonist, he often interprets characters and motivations wrong. Getting someone else’s take on a given situation or character is refreshing. 

One of my favorite alt-perspectives is Frost. She's a young child and minor character, but serves as the perspective for a tense political discussion between Raksuran queens about impending war with the Fell. This whole section serves to convey important information, but also as great worldbuilding to see how Raksura interact with, indulge, and care for their young. While we have seen adult perspectives such as Moon happily playing with his children, it's interesting to see a child's view of life in the colony. This is emblematic of Wells' approach to the series and her technique when crafting this world. It would be easy to pick a major character like Malachite and tell this section from her perspective, but we would miss many interesting details. Using Frost isn't something I would necessarily consider, and is just a cool writing choice.

By the end, The Harbors of the Sun feels like it's been a long, epic journey-- more so than the shorter adventures of previous books. A LOT of stuff happens in this book, and there's so many different interesting places the characters visit. Even events at the beginning feel distant compared to where everything ends. There is a unique appeal in this kind of story. Maybe it's not for everyone, but I personally like the change of pace and tone, especially as a finale. 

For a series retrospective, the Fell are an interesting subject to discuss. I'm impressed with what Wells pulls off with them. One of my criticisms of The Cloud Roads is the Fell aren't especially compelling villains. They're an evil race of shapeshifters, distantly related to Raksura, who infiltrate cities and eat the population. The Fell are parasites-- they have no real culture or ability to survive except through the destruction of others. They’ve recently taken to destroying Raksuran colonies, kidnapping survivors, and forcing them to produce crossbreeds. Obviously, this introduces two narrative problems. One, "evil races" in fantasy are boring and already done ad nauseam. Two, how can one make the Fell interesting when they're literally irredeemable monsters? 

The answer, it turns out, is a nature vs nurture debate, and it's mostly approached through the Fell/Raksura crossbreed characters. While these ideas have been explored throughout the series, The Harbors of the Sun brings it full circle. The Cloud Roads' main antagonist is Ranea, a crossbreed queen raised by the Fell. She sees the crossbreeds as a natural way to strengthen the Fell and make them an even deadlier force than they are by default, since Raksura have their own set of powers and traits. She’s soundly defeated, supposedly concluding the subplot. Until, of course, it comes back. 

In The Siren Depths, we meet several crossbreed characters who are, for all intents and purposes, Raksura. Malachite rescued them as children and chose to raise them as Raksura of Opal Night. The result is that, while Shade and Lithe are aware of their heritage, they've experienced love and acceptance throughout their lives. Sure, they may have some physical traits and abilities that differ from the others, but often these have practical uses in the story. Their families don’t treat them differently because of this. As characters, they're just as Raksuran as everyone else.

In The Edge of Worlds, we're introduced to another crossbreed queen, a foil to Ranea. While she makes some early mistakes, unlike Ranea she seems capable of reason and compassion. We learn her name and backstory in The Harbors of the Sun. Consolation was born in a Fell flight, but most of her childcare came from her father, a captive Raksuran consort. Hence her name, which is painful with context and distinctly Raksuran. Apparently, the consort's influence didn't just extend to Consolation, but to other outcasts in the flight. After his death, Consolation and her allies slaughtered the leadership and took over the flight, and seek a place to live in peace independent of traditional Fell corruption and influence. 

One of the interesting things about this are the kethel and dakti in Consolation's flight. Throughout the series, these two Fell castes are basically treated as cannon fodder. If you need a big intimidating enemy, throw in a kethel. For annoying imp swarms, dakti. The Raksura tend to think of these creatures as intelligent animals, not people. They only talk when a Fell ruler takes over their mind. They're treated badly among the Fell; cannibalized them when food stores get low, thrown into suicidal situations, etc. 

In The Harbors of the Sun, the kethel and dakti can speak, much to the surprise of the main cast. Consolation's main advisor is a crossbreed dakti named First. There's also a kethel (presumably pureblooded Fell) that follows and assists Moon and Stone throughout the book and engages them in conversation. They clearly distrust it, but over the course of the story go from calling it "the kethel" to "Kethel", like an actual name. It has ulterior motives-- to convince the Raksura to help Consolation-- but is certainly not "inherently evil", nor just an intelligent animal. This is counter to everything we've been led to believe through the series, and it shocks multiple characters and challenges their way of thinking. 

The argument at the end is that the Fell are evil because of a poisonous ideology and the total control of the progenitors (female rulers). Raised with compassion and better treatment, they're very similar to the Raksura. I'm honestly impressed with where the Fell end up vs where they start in The Cloud Roads. I don't know if Wells planned this arc for them from the beginning, but I like the amount of nuance she introduced without it feeling gross or trite. Does it work 100 percent? I'm not sure; I'd have to reread the series in more depth. But based on my current thoughts, it’s a good development; it doesn’t “redeem” or justify the Fell, but demonstrates the ways in which future generations can change and break the cycle. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, and many characters clearly distrust these “new” Fell (understandable considering the sheer trauma most of the cast has), but it’s an interesting take nevertheless. 

On another subject, we never really learn what was up with the forerunners! Except they really liked flower motifs, I guess. I kind of like this; there's an impression that the long forgotten civilizations of the past were technologically advanced, but no one knows what happened to them. It's just an enduring mystery of the series. Ultimately it doesn't matter to the characters, and that's fine.

Also, we now have confirmation that The Serpent Sea is basically filler. It felt like a side story when I read it, but part of me hoped it would have some relevance to these last two books. Nope. I’m a little disappointed in this, but it’s not the end of the world, just something to keep in mind when reading the series. I think the book is entertaining on its own merits, but there’s little to connect it to the main story besides the characters. 

Overall I recommend these books to people looking for a non-traditional fantasy series. There's no humans or typical Tolkein-esque fantasy races. Instead there are dozens of sapient humanoid species invented whole cloth, with some obvious real world inspirations. The shapeshifting Raksura are lovingly crafted, with lots of interesting detail about their culture, customs, and daily life. I love how they feel like believable people but are distinctly nonhuman. As a setting, The Three Worlds is deadly and fascinating, with lots of interesting places and people. There's always a sense of a big, vibrant world, even when the books choose not to explore it in depth. While The Harbors of the Sun feels like a finale to the current Raksuran story, I wouldn't be surprised if Wells visits this setting in the future.

There are some short story collections in this series which I do plan to read sometime in 2021. However, I'm going to take a break from the Raksura series and dive into something else for now. Thanks for reading!