#the failure of language becomes a failure of reflection and thinking becomes a failure of acceptance

[hahahafangirl]

the failure of language

so im getting around to write some suonirei fanfic and, inevitably, got to Backstory Speculations activities. and now i begin to think about suo (windbreaker in general) and the failure of language -- when people, regardless of how much they try or how eloquent they find themselves to be, will find points where they are unable to give words to what they are feelings or explain some difficult emotions or circumstances to themselves or another person.

think, sakura going "how am i supposed to treat you now?" after hearing out umemiya's childhood story-- what is he supposed to say? to act in general? language, spoken or behavioral, failed him. umemiya redirected sakura to language: he did not expect sakura to treat him any differently. come back to the language you understand, he says. and now we complicated "language" to means "a vehicle of interactions and expression", which is functionally what language is.

well i did say that this arise from thinking about suo, most notably, thinking about how windbreaker expresses speechlessness and stillness very frequently from suo's silence. think the focus on suo's eyes at any moment where language are yet adequate to say what is happening: suo and nirei's response to sakura's solitary during sickness; suo's anger (in KEEL and shishitoren) occurring wordlessly; and, most recently (which sorta sparked this line of thought), this page

note the wordlessness. a lot of time, wbk starts out the responses to these sincere and vulnerable moments with this wordlessness, where characters ponder and reflect on the statement, often evoking their own memories and experiences, thus empathizing with the vulnerability in question. it is a reflective and thoughtful way to begin the process of empathy in silence. it feels ritualistic, even, like meditation, to begin connecting with other by a silence that could be taken to be a single-minded, pure focus -- on what is being put on the stage to ponder. maybe this is not quite a failure of language, depending on how we see it, but rather, a moment outside of language priming for its arrival. it is not time for language to enter the scene yet.

but then language always come, sooner or later. as awkwardly or curtly or roughly, sakura and nirei speak sincere words that come from the bottom of their heart. language -- thus connection and empathy -- then propel the conversation. suo, notably (at least without me combing through the manga again) often does not enter this realm of language the way sakura and nirei do it. when he empathize sakura's feelings when he was sick, suo did it where sakura cannot hear. the only(?) time he responded genuinely (please bring up examples or counterexamples if you have it on hand) was when nirei was feelings insecure about his inability to fight and ask suo for help. but even then, the response of "your self-esteem is all over the place" is not quite the personal, genuine approach sakura or nirei has. its quite measured and reflective -- responding to nirei's statements rather than clearly interjecting something to the conversation. many of suo's vulnerabilities are deflected by falsehoods (harmless jokes, not malicious lies), distractions, etc, etc. language seemingly continues to fail him, or he continues to evade it.

i am in a habit of not stating my Backstory Speculations, because a lot of times i want to stick closer to the texts. whatever Speculations i have will most likely manifest as fanfiction (oh boy is that an ambitious media to do this in). but anyway, from popular hc of suo being potentially a "traitor" or somehow entangled in a major and antagonistic organization, his failure to relate this to his friends and thus him hiding his past can be taken as another failure of language. perhaps languages continuously fail him in his childhood-- hence it has yet to learn how to succeed.

p/s: i should also say that im enjoying using different concepts and ideas to speculate/think about and analyze the text (wbk) in a different way. this is basically what comparative literature and literary criticism is, i think (lol). sometimes i feel like this is just me dressing up good ole literary theme in a fancier language, but whatever works works lol. hopefully as i continue to think of the "inability to express your true emotions" and "inability to be vulnerable" more specifically (or broadly) as a failure of language, more interesting insights will come up. its less about what the texts is literally and consciously say, and more about how we can think about the text using -- and extract from the text via -- various frameworks.

yep, this is probably gonna be a more complete essay at some point. i even pulled out the usual rccl register for this!

[theambitiouswoman]

How To Become A Brand New Person ✨✨

Self Reflect:

Journal daily.

Think about past decisions and how they impacted your life.

Meditate regularly.

Create a vision board to visualize your goals.

Review your strengths and weaknesses.

Identify your core values and beliefs.

Figure out your passions and interests.

Think about your childhood dreams and aspirations.

Evaluate your current state of happiness and fulfillment.

Set Clear Goals:

Define specific career goals, like "Get promoted within two years."

Set health goals, like "Lose 20 pounds in six months."

Create financial goals such as "Save $10,000 for a vacation."

Establish personal development goals, like "Read 24 books in a year."

Set relationship goals, such as "Improve communication with my partner."

Define education goals, like "Complete a master's degree in three years."

Set travel goals, like "Visit five new countries in the next two years."

Create hobbies and interests goals, such as "Learn to play a musical instrument."

Set community or volunteer goals, like "Volunteer 100 hours this year."

Establish mindfulness or self-care goals, such as "Practice meditation daily."

Self Care:

Exercise for at least 30 minutes a day.

Follow a balanced diet with plenty of fruits and vegetables.

Prioritize getting 7-9 hours of quality sleep each night.

Practice in relaxation techniques like deep breathing or yoga.

Take regular breaks at work to avoid burnout.

Schedule "me time" for activities you enjoy.

Limit exposure to stressors and toxic people.

Practice regular skincare and grooming routines.

Seek regular medical check-ups and screenings.

Stay hydrated by drinking enough water daily.

Personal Development:

Read a book every month from various genres.

Attend workshops or seminars on topics of interest.

Learn a new language or musical instrument.

Take online courses to acquire new skills.

Set aside time for daily reflection and self improvement.

Seek a mentor in your field for guidance.

Attend conferences and networking events.

Start a side project or hobby to expand your abilities.

Practice public speaking or communication skills.

Do creative activities like painting, writing, or photography.

Create a Support System:

Build a close knit group of friends who uplift and inspire you.

Join clubs or organizations aligned with your interests.

Connect with a mentor or life coach.

Attend family gatherings to maintain bonds.

Be open and honest in your communication with loved ones.

Seek advice from trusted colleagues or supervisors.

Attend support groups for specific challenges (e.g., addiction recovery).

Cultivate online connections through social media.

Find a therapist or counselor for emotional support.

Participate in community or volunteer activities to meet like minded people.

Change Habits:

Cut back on sugary or processed foods.

Reduce screen time and increase physical activity.

Practice gratitude by keeping a daily journal.

Manage stress through mindfulness meditation.

Limit procrastination by setting specific deadlines.

Reduce negative self-talk by practicing self-compassion.

Establish a regular exercise routine.

Create a budget and stick to it.

Develop a morning and evening routine for consistency.

Overcome Fear and Self Doubt:

Face a specific fear head-on (example: public speaking).

Challenge your negative thoughts with positive affirmations.

Seek therapy to address underlying fears or traumas.

Take small, calculated risks to build confidence.

Visualize success in challenging situations.

Surround yourself with supportive and encouraging people.

Journal about your fears and doubts to gain clarity.

Celebrate your accomplishments, no matter how small.

Focus on your strengths and accomplishments.

Embrace failure as a valuable learning experience.

Embrace Change:

Relocate to a new city or country.

Switch careers or industries to pursue your passion.

Take on leadership roles in your workplace.

Volunteer for projects outside your comfort zone.

Embrace new technologies and digital tools.

Travel to unfamiliar destinations.

Start a new hobby or creative endeavor.

Change your daily routine to add variety.

Adjust your mindset to see change as an opportunity.

Seek out diverse perspectives and viewpoints.

Practice Gratitude:

Write down three things you're grateful for each day.

Express gratitude to loved ones regularly.

Create a gratitude jar and add notes of appreciation.

Reflect on the positive aspects of challenging situations.

Show gratitude by volunteering or helping others in need.

Send thank-you notes or messages to people who've helped you.

Keep a gratitude journal and review it regularly.

Share your gratitude openly during family meals or gatherings.

Focus on the present moment and appreciate the little things.

Practice gratitude even in times of adversity.

Be Patient:

Set realistic expectations for your progress.

Accept that personal growth takes time.

Focus on the journey rather than the destination.

Learn from setbacks and view them as opportunities to improve.

Celebrate small milestones along the way.

Practice self-compassion during challenging times.

Stay committed to your goals, even when progress is slow.

Keep a journal to track your personal growth.

Recognize that patience is a valuable skill in personal transformation.

Celebrate Small Wins:

Treat yourself to your favorite meal or dessert.

Reward yourself with a spa day or self-care activity.

Share your achievements with friends and loved ones.

Create a vision board to visualize your successes.

Acknowledge and congratulate yourself in a journal.

Give yourself permission to take a break and relax.

Display reminders of your accomplishments in your workspace.

Take a day off to celebrate a major milestone.

Host a small gathering to mark your achievements.

Set aside time to reflect on how far you've come.

Maintain Balance:

Set clear boundaries in your personal and work life.

Prioritize self care activities in your daily routine.

Schedule regular breaks and downtime.

Learn to say "no" when necessary to avoid overcommitment.

Evaluate your work life balance regularly.

Seek support from friends and family to avoid burnout.

Be kind to yourself and accept imperfections.

Practice mindfulness to stay present and grounded.

Revisit your priorities and adjust them as needed.

Embrace self love and self acceptance as part of your daily life.

[hrtwayne]

Paper Rings || Alexia Putellas

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Where sometimes it was necessary to take a break from work before it became too late to fix your relationship.

Note: English is not my first language.

Warning: Mentions of neglect and lots of comfort!

Masterlist | Women's Football Masterlist

IT WAS AROUND 7:15 PM when a light rain began to fall over the city, turning the streets into reflections of the turmoil you and Alexia were experiencing in your relationship. It was the eve of your anniversary, and Alexia was stuck at training camp while you were practically living at the hospital. There had been a promise that nothing and no one would stop the two of you from celebrating the date, but at that point in the relationship, neither of you seemed willing to give in or apologize.

Walking through the well-lit streets of Barcelona, you were wrapped in a faded hoodie and your trusty gray sweatpants. You took in the small details of that part of the city—growing up in a relatively upscale neighborhood, you knew you had the privilege of walking after dark without fear.

It wasn’t the first time you walked through that area. It was probably the third time you'd stopped at that same restaurant, ordering the same dinner you were supposed to share with your girlfriend. You would leave Alexia’s portion on the table and lie in bed with that overwhelming feeling of emptiness you hated to experience.

In that moment, you allowed yourself to take a deep breath and try not to think about Alexia and how the entire situation—marked by neglect—was steering your relationship toward failure. You wanted to forget the chaos surrounding you, how a small fight had become a snowball of problems, and how work had been the final straw.

On the other side of the city, Alexia had just finished filming the last batch of media content for the team. With a tired sigh, she pulled out the phone from the pocket of the sweatpants that belonged to you. The player noticed how that invisible wall between you was becoming more solid by the day—she could count on one hand the nights when you had exchanged more than two words. It hurt to know that everything could fall apart with the snap of a finger.

That night in particular, Alexia was ready to fix things with you. She wasn’t willing to lose the one person who had shown her the best side of life. She quickly said goodbye to the girls from the team and remembered a flower shop she had discovered a few blocks from the apartment she shared with you.

With her hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets, Alexia drove for several minutes.She was anxious enough that it became increasingly clear you might not accept her apology.

The flower shop’s window was filled with colorful flowers, but it was the red tulips that caught her attention. Alexia remembered how you always smiled when receiving flowers, especially tulips.

As she stepped inside, a gentle scent of fresh blooms surrounded her. The store was cozy, with wooden shelves filled with arrangements and vases.

Then she saw the owner, a middle-aged woman with graying hair tied in a bun. The woman was arranging a bouquet of white roses, but when she saw the player, her eyes lit up with recognition.

"Welcome, dear. Can I help you with something?" the woman asked, with a kind smile.

Alexia hesitated for a second, feeling a little exposed under the woman’s perceptive gaze.

"I’d like a bouquet of red tulips, please."

The florist nodded, as if she already knew exactly what Alexia needed.

"Red tulips… a beautiful choice. They symbolize true love, you know?" she said, selecting the most vibrant flowers.

Alexia seemed surprised by the comment.

"I... didn’t know. I just know they’re her favorites."

The woman smiled, as if sharing a great secret.

"Sometimes, the little things matter the most. A bouquet can say far more than words—especially when words are hard to find.

Alexia felt a lump in her throat. It was as if that woman could read her thoughts.

"It’s... complicated. We’re going through a hard time, both of us busy with work. We barely have time for each other."

"Love needs care, just like flowers. If you don’t water them, don’t give them light, they wither. But with a little care and attention, they can bloom again," the woman said as she handed Alexia the bouquet, her eyes full of wisdom. "Don’t let the small things destroy a love like that, dear."

Alexia held the bouquet carefully, feeling the weight of those words.

"Thank you. I... needed to hear that."

"You’re welcome, sweetheart. Just remember—love is like a flower. It needs time, patience, and a little faith."

After paying for the flowers, Alexia left the shop with renewed determination. She knew it wouldn’t be easy to balance a career and a solid relationship, but she was willing to try. The red tulips in her hands were her first commitment.

A soft, almost imperceptible sound echoed through the apartment, like someone had come through the front door without wanting to be noticed. You frowned, thinking your mind was playing tricks on you.

A few seconds later, a tall figure appeared in your field of vision. Alexia stood just a few steps away with a slightly hopeful look and a gentle smile. Your heart skipped a beat when she pulled a bouquet of red tulips from behind her back.

"Hey, love," Alexia said, placing the bouquet in your hands. "I’m sorry it took me this long to realize our relationship was being neglected," she whispered, wiping away a solitary tear that ran down your cheek.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

"You brought my favorites," you murmured, locking eyes with her.

Alexia smiled shyly before kissing your forehead, making you sigh in contentment.

In a matter of seconds, you leaned in, capturing Alexia’s lips in a lingering kiss. It was slow, as if both of you were trying to savor the overwhelming sensation. Alexia buried her hand in your hair, cherishing the softness of your skin and the warmth your body radiated. Her heart felt like it was about to burst.

You wrapped your arms around Alexia’s waist, pulling her closer, eventually making her sit on your lap. Both of you seemed to be lost in the sensation—every sigh, every shiver, every breath. With a reluctant sigh, Alexia pulled away, remembering that you both needed air, and began to scatter kisses across your face and neck.

"I’ll never get tired of kissing you," Alexia admitted, her lips just inches from yours.

[stxrvel]

disclosure (6)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. platonic ot7 x f!reader for now content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, angst, reader becomes sus, fighting (in the wrong way), angry and mean jin? self-doubt. a/n. hi guysssssss!!! sorry it's taking me this long always, but i finally finished this part! i actually just finished it and it's almost 2am and i have to go to work in fivehours. i'm publishing this part as it is and maybe tomorrow if i have the time i'll look at it again, bc i'm really exhausted right now. and also please forgive me if there are any mistakes in the text;((((. but i hope you guys enjoy this 7k monster of a chapter and i'll see you next time!!

series masterlist | bts masterlist | previous | next

The fourth book of your saga was a reflection of everything you had gone through when you moved with your family to the capital. You finished the third book when you had barely been in the city for a month and maybe that's why it didn't have a happy ending and why everyone who had read the trilogy had been devastated with that ending. It wasn't something you had planned from the beginning, but it wasn't something that ruined the plot either. It was actually much better than you had planned.

And when you finally finished with the trilogy, starting to write again wasn't hard, especially with so many mixed emotions and so much repressed pain coming back to the surface uninvited.

Maybe you hadn't been in connection with your strong feelings since then, when the city constantly reminded you that you had lost the only people you considered your true friends and the pain of their absence and the harsh reality was a knife burying itself in your chest over and over again. You hadn't felt this much since the moment you realized that they were able to live their lives without you, but you had to go through the mourning of losing them.

You hadn't felt this much since then, until that moment when, having been just a day since you had decided you would take the path of healing, you had to reopen the draft of your fourth book and find all those angry paragraphs, spit out words, piled up letters and whole pages filled with pure rage and pain; of disappointment and realization… of betrayal.

“Are you going to start again already? Don't you think you deserve a break?”

The words Yuna had spoken to you that morning were echoing in your head from the moment you read the first words of this draft and the memories began to well up, emotions making your hair stand on end and your throat close up.

It was almost funny to remember how incredibly angry you were when you first arrived in the city.

The city, with posters of Jungkook's face on every corner, with his performances on some screens or just teenagers talking about him and whispering about his music, it was practically impossible to escape it. The city, with radios blaring Yoongi's songs, in a cab or on public transportation, interviews blaring on TVs in shopping malls. The city, with the international news, which echoed so much, about the spectacular promises of modeling. The country couldn't be prouder to have representatives of that caliber, because the moment Taehyung and Jimin overtook the West and broke the international barrier, it was only a matter of time before the others followed suit and completely changed the idea of entertainment and media in the country.

The first months in the city were nauseating, when you had to get used to and overcome your emotions the hard way, fighting against the aggressive tide that all the time tried to drown you, and that was noticeable in every word and every scene of that book, and you were almost sure that if any of them read it, they would know immediately. If they wanted to know anything about you, if they were really interested, there would be no better way than through your books; in no other situation would you be so vulnerable.

You wondered, for a moment, if any of them would have read any of the books by now. If Namjoon would remember when you asked him for strange words to describe emotions and now they were captured in those impressions, or when you asked Jin and Hoseok for their opinion about the complex construction of your world and each of their peculiar and crazy details can be found in those pages. Just as your books had all the pieces of you, it also had crumbs of them, and you wondered if they would notice if they read it.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

Maybe you do. That's why you had decided to close that cycle once and for all, and there was no better way to do it than to finally start with the edition of this book. Of this fourth book, so strong in its toughness and determination, so vulnerable in its rage and palpable pain.

It was the cleanest and purest and truest version of you.

But as much as you deserved it, it felt more like punishment. Reliving those emotions and evoking those memories caused you more anguish and you didn't know if you could face a kind of shock therapy like that to finally let go.

“The editors said you'd be here.”

You saw Choi Dohyun standing, leaning against the door frame above the computer screen that still displayed the title of the first chapter of your fourth book. On a Wednesday at barely eight o'clock in the morning, the great CEO decided to set aside a few minutes of his busy time to gratify you with his presence.

His calm, serene and carefree expression was the contrast to the swirl of emotions that ran through that room, rising from the crown of your head. You could almost tell he wasn't venturing into the office because he could feel the tension radiating from your position at the desk. He must have even seen it on your face.

You sighed and barely waved at him, running your hands over your face, trying to ease your tense muscles a little.

“Is there a specific reason why you don't want the editors to read the book?”

Choi Dohyun was a mystery. You only knew about him from the three-hour conversation you had the day before, besides the strange looks he cast at Yoongi from his office entrance. He had shown himself to be a very open person and it was clear that he was an expert at making things work his way. You knew he had agreed to many of your conditions because what he would get in return was bigger than what it would cost him, which really wasn't too much, just enough to maintain a level of creative freedom that would allow you to access editorial support when you saw fit —because you knew that once you handed it over, it would no longer be entirely yours—and often businessmen reflected their own personalities in how they negotiated a deal.

Dohyun tried to come across as a fairly personable person; he tried to be understanding, communicative and open-minded, so much so that he reminded you of the comfortable security of an older brother. However, you could tell in that meeting that he held back too much; that he had hated the way Yuna used to interrupt him to ask him questions or how your brother would put too many buts in his mouth and try to get information out of him that he shouldn't give away. You could tell he was impatient, that he really expected the meeting to last less than twenty minutes because he was sure you would sign the contract blindly as soon as you saw the profits you'd gain from the distribution and sale of your books. You also noticed, in case it wasn't obvious already, that he preferred to be in control as long as the situation and the people around him allowed it, for his convenience. If he gave in on several occasions, you knew it had been because he was very, very aware of everything that benefited him.

There were two options: Choi Dohyun wore a mask constantly, or Choi Dohyun was a fraud.

“I just wanted to read it one more time… before handing it over. I won't take long.”

“It's okay. No problem.” Dohyun finally walked into the room, the office he had handed you for whenever you decided to go to his publishing house. You didn't even know writers had that option; you didn't know if it was common, but he allowed it. He had also offered you a writing kit that included a typewriter that looked quite expensive, and although you hadn't accepted it, there it was in one of the corners of the office. Dohyun sat across from you, glancing at the few things you had brought from home to make the place a little more pleasant. “I understand that sometimes it's hard to separate yourself from your work. It's a part of you, after all. A kind of vulnerability that not everyone sees.”

That was the kind of thing that kept Dohyun's true nature a mystery. His stoic expression as he blurted out words of comfort. It almost felt like running sandpaper over cement. Not that you needed to figure him out, because at the end of the day he was a boss of sorts and you two were bound by a contract with mutual economic benefits —technically, you were each there for a benefit of your own— but it was something you wanted to be aware of, watchful of, informed of, because you had no way of knowing this guy wouldn't try to take advantage of some situation later, in any possible scenario.

“Yes…”

“Take as much time as you need. The demand for the trilogy is still pretty high, after all.”

You nodded at him in response, wary of his attempt to lighten the mood. If he was the kind of person you thought he was, he surely knew you didn't feel an ounce of trust towards him.

“In just two days you must have quite a bit of work to do with that,” you tried to continue the conversation, interspersing your gaze over the letters on the screen and his dark eyes.

“But it's a very welcome work. Aren't you glad your books were so well received?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, momentarily remembering the proud look on Yuna and your brother's face when they finally got you to see the reactions and opinions of your books on social media. “It's comforting. For your work to be appreciated, recognized… moreover, that it allows you to make a living from it. It's amazing and a very great privilege.”

Dohyun shook his head in assent, interlacing his fingers over his abdomen. From his nonchalant way of taking a seat across from you, slumped over the chair almost as if he was an old friend from college and not practically your boss, and from how his voice reflected that sense of calmness and confidence, you could almost tell he was perfectly selling the facade of the most trustworthy person in the world.

But ultimately it was your feeling and your need to automatically distrust anyone you met because you didn't know at what point they would try to take advantage of you or turn their back on you, and maybe Dohyun wasn't as bad a person as you wanted to paint him in your head. Maybe you would even accept that his presence was a bit comforting and that he actually reminded you of someone you used to know in the past and of whom currently, if you knew he was still alive, it was by sheer luck. That personality, that sense of security he conveyed and that way he had had of expressing himself to you in that meeting that showed a different and more mature kind of wisdom, indeed reminded you of someone else.

Dohyun was very, very much like Jin.

“Can I… ask you something?” you hesitated, alternating your gaze between the screen and his dark eyes, not quite sure if you wanted to go down that path, but aware that you would get something in return if you did, and perhaps the risk would be worth it. “But it's not related to… this.”

As you pointed to your computer and the rest of the office, you couldn't decipher what expression Dohyun sketched. Trying to read him like you did everyone else, it seemed he entertained a specific train of thought in his head and was sparked by your question, but you couldn't probe much further because he agreed, tilting his head to invite you to ask bluntly.

“How do you know Min Yoongi?”

Dohyun then lifted his chin and his lips curved into a sort of small smile that could more accurately be described as a grimace. With his eyes on the window, with the beautiful view of the city and its busy streets, Dohyun took his time to answer and his pleased and almost satisfied look gave you to understand that your question was not a surprise at all. Dohyun could take it simply as healthy curiosity, for after all Yoongi was a celebrity and there weren't many people around the country who couldn't recognize him and you literally saw him face to face.

However, of course, there was something about his attitude that felt different. He wasn't surprised by your question, it was true, but maybe not for the reason you thought.

“He's a friend of my best friend.” Dohyun finally answered, returning your gaze, a glint of amusement highlighting his dark eyes. “I met him a couple of years ago through him, who is also his best friend. Otherwise, I doubt we would've ever met.”

Ah, Dohyun had a best friend who was best friends with Yoongi. That could only mean one thing.

“Ah. Then your best friend is part of the seven kings.”

Dohyun raised his eyebrows, clearly amused by your choice of words and the permanence of that haunting smile and the glint in his eyes should've been warning enough. He had the posture, demeanor and speech of a person who knew he was in control of the situation. Whatever his purpose was in entertaining this conversation, you already knew you were involved in that reason, indirectly.

Dohyun knew something about you that you had no idea about.

“Yes, indeed. It's Kim Seokjin. We met in college.”

As you guessed, of course. That's where the similar traits you could find in his personality came from.

But then Yoongi wasn't directly friends with Dohyun, and they couldn't be that close because of the nonchalant way he referred to him, so the question of why he was here yesterday, precisely when you came, would remain unanswered. It could be a coincidence? Of course, and you could remain in doubt, or you could…

“Wow. You two really are a powerful duo.”

Dohyun let out a laugh, nodding, looking so comfortable with himself, as if you were asking all the questions you should be asking.

“I love my job and I know I'm good at what I do, but Jin is simply on another level.”

You nodded, getting into his game of pretending, with a half smile on your face.

You knew that if Yuna knew what you were doing she would shake her head and tell you that you were crazy; that you should try to be less hard on other people and that's why you had never been able to hit it off with the other co-workers in Sol's cafeteria.

“Yes. I hear he's a great surgeon. He was top of his class, wasn't he?”

“That's right.” Dohyun nodded, determined not to look away from you. “But you're close to them too, aren't you? I saw Taehyung's Instagram stories when he uploaded your books.”

You blinked. Once. And again. He had already figured you out, and now he wanted to reverse the table and get some kind of reaction or information from you that you didn't know what kind of mystery it would solve in his head. The best option was to feign a bit of surprise, which was what you did, as if you didn't expect him to suddenly bring that up.

“Well, we studied together in school, but we were never that close.”

You lifted a shoulder, trying to downplay the subject, as if on cue, and Dohyun nodded slightly processing the information, averting his gaze over the dark carpet on the floor. He seemed to be tying up loose ends in his head and had more questions, the way he squinted his eyes as you gave him his space to think.

You had no idea what he was getting at. You had already brought out to him that he was close friends with Kim Seokjin and that, basically by extension he knew Yoongi. You could almost say it was a bit of an ordinary, almost trivial topic, not overly suspicious. Unless, of course, he knew something else that raised his curiosity and made you look suspicious in his eyes for asking such questions.

It seemed the most certain theory.

“And through him you must have met the others sometime, right?”

And it seemed you were right, too.

You had to deny his assertion, you knew, but it seemed you had taken half a second too long because he beat you to the word, shaking his head in a nod, and then said:

“That explains a lot.”

“Huh?”

Play dumb, play dumb.

Dohyun cracked a big grin, looking almost like a predator in the midst of its hunt, and from that alone you knew he'd already put his puzzle together.

“Well… actually, now that we're being honest, Jin was the one who recommended me to read your books.”

Wow.

Okay.

Jin… told Dohyun about you? About your books?

That doesn't explain anything. In fact, more questions popped up in your head than you could control and you were sure Dohyun could see the question marks moving over your irises.

“He told me that there could be a great opportunity if I published you and he was really right. I don't regret sending you that offer.”

Dohyun leaned back against the backrest and stretched one of his arms over the chair next to him. His posture was a little more relaxed than before and you couldn't help the feeling of anger that ran through you because you had given him just what he wanted, but you couldn't concentrate too much on that because you were too surprised by what he had just blurted out, as if it was nothig.

Of all the things you could've imagined, you would never have considered that this huge and prestigious publishing house had offered you a contract just because one of the CEO's great friends had recommended it to him. I mean, if Jin had never talked about it, would you have had any chance of getting this offer? Of signing this contract? Would you have been recognized on your own merit and not because you were linked to the mouth of a close friend?

None of that made any sense. Why had Jin told Choi Dohyun about you? His best friend being the owner of the most prestigious publishing house in the country, clearly knowing the implications of his actions, why would he do that? Maybe he didn't count on his friend throwing him overboard someday for gossiping and because he has an ego bigger than his own head? Maybe he thought it would be an anonymous job forever? And for what reason? On what grounds? What kind of emotions moved him to make that decision? Maybe it was simply an altruistic desire. Maybe he was moved by the same thing that moved Taehyung, the one who started all this. But was it something premeditated or not? Was it something he had previously discussed with Namjoon? Would the others know about it? Would they have agreed? Would they not have cared?

In the midst of that mental stupor, the very idea of healing seemed stupid to you. The immense confusion and anger that was coursing through your blood had no place for this group of fools to continue to meddle in your life as if they were playing a fucking election game on their computer. Why? Why? Why?

You wanted to get out of a simple doubt with Dohyun, to know what kind of connection he had with Yoongi and that everything that had happened was a coincidence, and you had ended up with a thousand more questions, with a hundred confusions and even more mixed emotions.

And Yoongi… would he have been in his office yesterday for something related to that?

“At first I thought Taehyung had asked him, but Jin is quite careful about such things. He wouldn't hint something like that to me even because his brothers ask him to, unless it was someone he could vouch for. So you knew Jin too, right?”

You didn't try to deny it, but you didn't give him the reason either. Amidst a sea of questions and confusion, incredulous and angry, you just shook your head and crossed your arms.

“I'll bring the first draft tomorrow.”

Dohyun took his time, drumming his fingers on the wood of the chair, sending you a look as if he wanted to get more answers out of you because your attitude raised more doubts than he initially had. Maybe you let go of a wolf's leash or this would be a one-time occurrence, you had no idea. But he said nothing more. Finally he got up, said goodbye and left.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

You should've listened to Yuna.

-

The next day, when you finished editing the draft of your fourth book amid tears, several cups of coffee and an excruciating pain in your wrist, you finally handed it in to the editors with a heavy heart and an hour of sleep in your body. It had officially ceased to be yours. The revelation that Dohyun had actually offered you all of this because Jin had asked him to do so kept going round and round in your head and made you revise and edit that draft more harshly than you would've done before.

Maybe you added a few extra curse words.

“If you don't finish that pasta, I'm going to steal it from you.”

Yuna hadn't even finished her own plate and was already eyeing yours, her brow furrowed and her own fork stabbing the ceramic of the deep dish you'd served your friend in as she crossed the threshold of the front door. You had been stirring the food with your fork for a while, thinking, reflecting, theorizing, trying to figure out what you really wanted; trying to recognize and accept the emotions inside you that were upsetting you.

Your parents had left early and Seojun was back in his college dorms, so you invited Yuna to lunch because you knew she loved the pastries your mom made and because you thought it would do you good to have some company after turning in the draft of your book. But, really, you were more overwhelmed than before. Yuna's presence didn't stop the thoughts in your head from racing, nor did it erase from reality what had happened.

“Y/n?”

You raised your head.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, and tried to focus on eating lunch before rambling on.

“Is it because of the book?”

“No, no. Everything's fine. I was just thinking.”

“Do you think you should've waited a little longer to turn it in?”

You shook your head. “No.”

It wasn't an order from Dohyun or anything like that. You decided to get started on editing the next book because it was a bit desperate to have nothing to do. Before you could focus on the whole operational and logistical process of delivering the books, but now that was taken care of by a separate company and all you had to do was verify that the money was coming into your account and that was it. Not that it was bad, but you were not used to just sitting idly by. So you thought that continuing with the pre-publication editing of the next books might be a good way to pass the time.

You didn't expect, of course, the statement you heard the day before, let alone that it would knock down your motivation like the wind to dry leaves. After that conversation with Dohyun, you decided that the best thing you could do was to turn in that draft and give them as much work as possible as a distraction so that you wouldn't have to go back to that building for at least a couple of weeks. It wasn't a healthy activity, of course, because at the time you were only functioning to keep Yuna from questioning if there was something wrong with you. Well, she probably did, but she preferred not to comment on it, because you hadn't been giving her too many answers to her questions lately.

Having decided that Dohyun was an expert manipulator, you could only worry about the possibility that he might decide to comment something about that conversation to Jin or just stir up a conversation about the possible existence of a friendly bond with him during school time. You didn't know what could trigger that; with everything that had happened up to that point you could no longer be sure of anything or trust anything.

“No. I thought I'd turn it in now so I'd have more time to read the next books. I know that one isn't too bad. I revised it too many times while I was writing it and even after.”

“And it's pretty long, isn't it?”

You nodded, finally tasting another mouthful of pasta. “Seven hundred pages.”

“Holy Christ,” Yuna put a hand to her forehead and sketched a worried expression. Then her excited exclamation echoed throughout the house. “What a thrill! I can't wait to read it!!!!!!”

Yuna returned to work an hour later and you spent the rest of the afternoon between shifts of lying down staring at the ceiling and watching more videos about your books on social media, which you hadn't been able to leave since you saw them with your whole family in the living room. It still seemed surreal to you that you could search the name of your books on the internet and you would indeed get the results you expected. Clearly not all the opinions were praise, but you were willing to take all of that and learn, implement and consider it for the next stories you were willing to tell. For now, you were going to focus on keeping the editors busy enough that they wouldn't have to ask about it or demand your presence for any reason. This trilogy really was quite a lengthy saga, so when they finallt finish editing the fourth book, you'd have the fifth waiting, and so on. At least until you had another amazing idea for a new story.

Now, on the slightly more disturbing topics, you still had more loose ends to tie up than you had initially thought. As you still had those particles of anger running through your body and you were still convinced that there was still no room for healing and overcoming, you could only think about what Yoongi's presence in Dohyun's office was about and if it had to do with what Jin had done.

That was the first line of thought. The second one sounded more like Yuna with her serious voice trying to talk some sense into you and tell you that you were seeing into it too much, that surely it was all just a coincidence and that Yoongi's presence was just some kind of crossfire.

But… yet… how many more times did something like this have to happen before you stopped chalking it up to coincidence? How many more times would you say it was a coincidence until everything started to connect to a purpose? Did they even have a purpose? Did they have a reason for all this, for all this unnecessary drama? And was their reason worth it to compensate for the instability you were going through? Having pent up emotions, confusion, lots of doubts and zero answers was about to drive you crazy.

However, maybe seeing things from another approach would allow you to understand.

Because, honestly, you saw it as too complicated to be able to leave them behind in this way, when it seemed that, on purpose or not, you would keep finding them in your soup. Adopting a slightly more objective approach, even though your emotions were always running high when it came to them, could give you the resolution you were looking for and the answer to the questions you were asking yourself. And there would be nothing more than that, because it would be impossible to restore the friendship you once had. Perhaps the truth would be painful, but you would accept it as it was and move on. Now, as old as you were, it would not be as hard as it was ten years ago when in the midst of confusion and desolation you could only cry.

Now, you had already gone through the mourning and made peace with the distance, the absence and the betrayal.

Maybe, if you tried a little harder, you could bring real closure —and soon, hopefully— by finding the answers on your own.

-

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, which he was spinning around like a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and solve any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would make everyone feel comfortable enough to move forward.

In his head, Namjoon was a three thousand dollars conflict-solver. Seeking solutions from reason and objectivity was basically how he kept his company afloat, that company he had inherited from his parents and had turned into the economic juggernaut it was today. All that success was summed up in the capacity for resolution that Namjoon had in his super head and, of course, his strategic capacity that allowed him to read his opponents and know exactly what they wanted, how they wanted it and when they wanted it.

However…

The whole table was still silent.

And Namjoon could only look at the faces of each of his friends, his best friends, practically his brothers, while they shied away from his gaze or directly ignored him, while he clasped his hands on the edge of the chair and tried to keep his composure because he no longer knew what to do.

Kim Namjoon, the three-thousandth troubleshooter, had a factory defect and could not fix the one thing he had always been able to fix with ease.

When Hoseok had walked into his office two nights ago with that stern and serious expression, Namjoon knew that there would be more problems to solve. But if he had to be honest, even before that moment he knew it wasn't working out well. Maybe it was because of the delicacy of the subject or the crudeness of his friends to address it, but Namjoon was losing the important ingredient of patience and that was something that hadn't happened to him before.

But then again, how could they all be so insensitive?

“Doesn't anyone have anything to say?”

Hoseok had been the only one to be spared from this discussion, though his presence was required at the table and tension radiated from his body in equal amounts. The others were directly attacked by the three thousandth (broken) problem-solver and despite Namjoon giving them a space to try to explain the situation, the table was still silent and with each passing second the pressure cooker containing Namjoon's anger was beeping louder and louder.

“I don't think there's much to say.”

It was Jin who finally broke the silence and Namjoon let out some air.

“Ah, thank you, Jin. Why do you think so?”

With his arms crossed, the older sent him an incredulous look.

“We've had this conversation three times already, Namjoon. Why do you think it's necessary for us to keep repeating ourselves?”

Hoseok had told Namjoon that he was concerned about the coexistence in the pent-house and that perhaps the elephant in the room was not being addressed in the right way; that more and more misunderstandings were being created between everyone and that it was making for an untrustworthy environment for the youngers. Namjoon agreed halfway through; if he had to be honest, none of it would've gotten to that point if none of them had been so irresponsible and daring to do all that they had done. And Jin had the least right to dismiss the issue as he had.

“Because you all don't seem to have listened to me at all, especially you.”

Jin snorted and turned his head away. Jungkook beside him barely winced at the hostile exchange.

“And what did I do?”

“What did you do? Jin, how can you be so inconsiderate?”

“I only rushed an exchange that was eventually going to happen, what the fuck is wrong with that?”

Namjoon tried not to look so surprised by the fact that the conversation he had had with him two nights ago and Yoongi had basically gone in one ear and out the other. Namjoon had no idea if it was an occupational hazard or a personality trait, but Jin was having a kind of stubbornness that bordered too much on his pride and desire to be right.

And right now it wasn't about who was right or wrong. It was about the fact that they had all made a promise and now they were breaking it as if it was worthless. Worse, as if the only ones affected by it were them and not a third party.

“Didn't you stop to think how she would feel if she found out that was how things went down?”

Jin rolled his eyes, but didn't answer him.

“Why do you all do all these things without believing that they will have consequences beyond your own feelings? That's all I'm asking you to consider!”

Taehyung and Jungkook at least had the decency to actually look embarrassed, avoiding Namjoon's gaze. Jimin was still convinced that he had done nothing extremely wrong and Yoongi simply demonstrated his sorrow through indifference. Namjoon knew that Yoongi was just as frustrated as he was with the way things were going, because they were the only ones trying to fix the messes the others had been thoughtlessly causing. And Jin… well, it was obvious that he didn't see any big implications beyond having to be scolded by Namjoon.

“Guys…” Hoseok started, sitting to Namjoon's right with a tired and defeated expression. If Namjoon and Yoongi were looking out for the integrity of the third party concerned, Hoseok was the one who was most concerned about the bonds that were breaking between them and that was why he had gone to Namjoon to have a group meeting again and set the boundaries once and for all. “You guys know that Namjoon is not just talking for the sake of talking. Jin, you don't need to get defensive. I understand that you tried to make the connection in good faith, but you have to understand that it was a very high risk. And while Dohyun is your friend, you know he's not very trustworthy.”

Jin grunted then, despite the kind tone Hoseok used to address him, and the others at the table only sent him a surprised look.

“Sure, now it's all my own damn fault. Not only do I have to deal with the stress of work, now I have to come to my supposed time off to deal with this too?”

“Hyung,” Yoongi called after him and frowned at the rude tone the older had used. “No one is saying it's your fault. We all have a part in this.”

“I don't care, Yoongi. Whatever's going on right now you know who's really to blame. And there's nothing you can do about it anymore.”

“Jin,” Namjoon called back and the aforementioned turned to look at him with daggers in his eyes. “You made the promise too.”

“Yes, one I never agreed to and you know it.”

Hoseok sighed and ran his hands over his face. “This is not the time to apportion blame, okay? I only wanted this space because I want us to fix this lack of communication and all this hostility that is affecting our living together.”

Namjoon turned to look at the table, finding the younger ones sealed in silence. None of them raised their heads and they showed signs of nervousness and anxiety, even if they tried to hide it under the tablecloth on the table.

There were too many things Namjoon wanted to control; there were too many things he wanted to solve; there were a number of other things that drove him mad and others that made him feel hopeless. Understanding all these emotions, his own or others', was wearing him down and perhaps that was why he was increasingly losing an ounce of patience. However, no matter how hard it was for him, Namjoon had to be sure that his priority was right in front of him. He had chosen to do so a couple of years ago and he could no longer turn back time.

“Hey, I'm sorry, okay?” Namjoon started once again and although Hoseok tried to shush him to calm down, he continued, “I know how I've acted during these days since everything started and I have not been very open to dialogue. For me it was… it was like crossing a forbidden boundary and I couldn't understand how you guys could jump over it without a second thought. It made my hair stand on end and I didn't… I didn't… I didn't know how to contain those emotions, I didn't know how to control them and clearly I didn't know how to express them. And the truth is that it worries me. I understand that you don't, because otherwise you wouldn't have done any of that, but I would like you to try to do that because this is not a unilateral action that will only affect you and will only be in your memories. You are affecting her too, and very much so. We were not good, not even friendly or cordial, so I need you to understand that all these things she will not see them as you think. Jungkook, you experienced it first hand. She hates us.”

Jungkook jerked on the chair and Taehyung was the one who reached over the table to take his intertwined hands. Jin sighed, finally letting the anger dissipate and Yoongi mimicked him, a little calmer as he watched his elder relax. Hoseok shook his head in assent, noticing the tension at the table dissipate a bit and how the young men held each other.

“And rightly so, because we made an inexcusable decision. And not only that, but she will now believe that it was a simple Tuesday for us and it's not. We made the promise for a reason and anything related we were supposed to consult first as a group. Sure, life happens and we get busy with a lot of things and have too much on our minds, but this was all inexcusable and we owe her more than forgiveness. We probably owe her our lives.”

“Hyung, I'm sorry…”

Jungkook was the most regretful. Since that harsh encounter, for which he dared to risk his presence in public and for which he believed it would be worth a try, Jungkook had never regretted something so much since the day of the promise. He still remembered the hatred your voice exuded and shivers ran down his spine. He had been unconscious, that was true, and he didn't know what he had let consume his body to have made that decision or to have simply acted without thinking. The possibility of seeing you again simply…blinded him. But that was never an excuse.

And Namjoon knew that. It was Jungkook who acted worse than everyone else, but he also couldn't deny to himself that had he found himself in the same predicament, with the same opportunity, he wouldn't have done the same. Maybe that's why he was so demanding of others, because that's how he reminded himself that he had no right to even think about it, much less act on their emotions, when they had taken away your choice as if they had any say in it.

“We can't erase what has already happened and what you have already done. All I ask is that you don't make it worse.” Namjoon implored, closing his eyes in silent prayer. “At this point there is no way to fix anything, and if every day we do things like this we are only inflicting pain on someone who doesn't deserve it. So please, for the love of God, leave her alone.”

The whole table was still silent, but this time Namjoon could clearly see everyone's face and notice their emotions right away, as he had always been able to do. He still didn't understand what had moved them to do all that; to Taehyung, to Jungkook, to Jin, to Jimin, despite everything they had discussed before, and he didn't understand how he hadn't been able to foresee their intentions from the beginning. But he could no longer focus on what had happened, but on what was happening and what he could still fix.

For that which had already been broken for years, Namjoon doubted too much that any of it could ever be fixed, no matter how hard he tried. And boy, would he have wanted to try.

“I'm sorry,” Jin mumbled, and it almost seemed like he had ripped the words from the back of his throat, but Namjoon took it with all his being and considered it the first victory on this new path.

When he finally dispatched everyone, Jimin remained seated to his left.

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

The blond looked disgruntled, and though it was clear that the tension was gone from his shoulders, in his gaze was that longing that Namjoon hadn't seen in years and certainly didn't allow in himself for all that he had previously exposed.

“Do you really think it's impossible to fix it?”

Namjoon hated knowing that the gleam in Jimin's eye had no future. At least not the one he wanted to believe. Namjoon, like everyone else, had spent sleepless nights thinking, remembering, reflecting and considering that they were never brave enough nor necessarily tough enough to earn that friendship once again. It had all gone to waste and it had been because of them.

“Yeah, I don't think that's possible.”

Jimin passed his saliva harshly, as if his mouth was dry, but he had to control and keep his emotions in check. Namjoon knew his every emotion and mainly knew how sensitive this whole issue was for Jimin, who from the beginning never agreed with him on anything and never hesitated to let him know. In fact, it took a couple of years before Namjoon could finally have this close relationship with Jimin again, until the blond decided to forgive him.

“It's silly to hope at this point, right?”

Namjoon also knew that Jimin struggled a lot to stop pointing blames, as Jin still did. He knew that, had Jimin had the opportunity in his hands several years in the past, he would have taken it and perhaps left them behind if he could. It was an extremely complex and long process to get the blond to trust Namjoon and those on his side again, which was one of the reasons why Hoseok was so insistent on talking and communicating and keeping everyone on good terms. It had cost them so much to re-form their trust that he couldn't allow it to crack once again.

Jimin nodded at his words when they were met with silence, for there was nothing Namjoon could say to comfort him. It was simply a heartbreaking situation.

“Tae and I will be with Jungkook.” Jimin assured Namjoon as he stood up. “Thank you… for trying.”

Namjoon only nodded, pressing his lips together in an attempt at a smile. Things would not automatically go back to the way they were before, as Namjoon's sternness in dealing with this issue on previous occasions was what initially caused this whole fiasco of miscommunication and hostility. He was heartily grateful that likewise Jimin took him into consideration, because he didn't know if he would be able to sleep knowing that everyone in that pent-house hated him. He didn't know if being the reason for the constant discord would allow him to have a respite of peace of mind at some point, when he was simply trying to do what he thought was best for everyone and what suited them on a sentimental level.

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, over which he circled as if it was a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and provide a solution to any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would allow everyone to feel comfortable enough to move forward.

However, at that moment, the past tense wording was the most accurate.

Namjoon used to believe.

Jimin stopped halfway up the stairs, transfixed, and Namjoon watched him curiously. Then, the blond half-turned on his heels and Namjoon got front row view of Jimin's pale face and his exaggeratedly expanded eyes as he looked at his phone.

“Hyung…”

Namjoon came striding over, intrigued as well as concerned by the expression on the blond's face.

Jimin had his Instagram open, specifically his direct messages. There was the message there that had made Jimin stop dead in his tracks and all blood dropped to his feet, but Namjoon didn't understand what the reason for his surprise was until he saw the sender, and then his eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

y/n Let's meet

--

omg🙊🙊

tag: @rinkud@futuristicenemychaos@pastelpeachess@parapiop7@11thenightwemet11 @yoongznme @queenbloody @lynnettys-world @darlingz99 @dreamerwasfound @chaotickyrith @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthigs @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @kariningss @juju-227592 @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @jincapableoflove @notrustfratedjin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @cerulean1riz @kawennote09 @angelfuzzy2 @themoonsblueside @damn-u-min-yoongi @drenix004 @dhanyasri @borahaetelevision

[medicallyfascinating]

Today I want to talk about consoling/criticising during Instruct.

Because I think it's VERY INTERESTING

Edelgard prefers to be consoled which is so interesting but also I think it says a lot about her character. She cannot handle criticism and has fully built up this belief that she is completely in the right, no matter what she does. She cannot be told that she's wrong without getting angry and defensive.

Her Criticise line is "A bit harsh, don't you think?". She takes any criticism so personally and as an attack on her. I also think that since she was young, people have been quite soft on her, especially Hubert. Hubert would never dare criticise Edelgard for anything he disagrees with and all he wants is to protect. She's been taken care of by him for the majority of her life. Her father also appears to be very gentle and forgiving with her. Edelgard as never learned how to cope with being criticised and therefore, doesn't know how to take the uncomfortable feeling and transform it into something useful for herself.

Her Console line is "Thank you. It won't happen again." She needs to be treated gently for anything to go through and for her to not take it deeply personally. Only then can she think over it and grow and change. Unfortunately for her, she is not surrounded by very many people who are capable of consoling her and therefore, very rarely does she get a chance to change. Hubert and Ferdinand are not particularly comforting people when the need to criticise someone comes up. Hubert gently nudges her in the direction he thinks is best and then goes behind her back and Ferdinand argues with her until either he feels as though he's been proven wrong, or someone else shuts down the argument.

Hubert prefers to be criticised. On the complete opposite note to Edelgard, Hubert cannot handle being consoled.

His Console line is "Your concern is unnecessary." He doesn't know what to do with it. It leaves him feeling off-balance and exposed. He has only ever been criticised into changing and adapting by both his father, by Edelgard and by Ferdinand. (And then as he gets older, also by the rest of the Black Eagles). Being consoled also doesn't help him protect those that he cares about, it just leaves him with this new weakness that he doesn't know how to fix.

His Criticise line is "I will humbly reflect on this." I think the language choice is odd but aside from that, Hubert ALSO heavily internalises criticism but does change from it. He sees it as a failure on his behalf and then does everything he can to get rid of this new-found weakness. He cannot have any weaknesses when he's preparing/fighting in a war for Edelgard who he so desperately wants to protect and keep safe.

Ferdinand prefers to be criticised. I have many personal opinions on how I thought and would have loved if he preferred to be consoled pre-ts and then preferred to he criticised post-ts but that is not a conversation for today.

Ferdinand from the very start wants to become both a better fighter and a better person. His Criticise line is "Just watch. It will not happen again." He heavily internalises every piece of criticism he gets, but he's good at taking his time to pick those feelings apart and trying to change for the better. Ferdinand is simultaneously very self-assured and also constantly being reminded that he's not as perfect as he was raised to believe.

His Console line is "What a thing to say. Do I look that pitiful?". Ferdinand is very used to being underestimated by his peers (particularly Dorothea, Hubert and Edelgard). He wants to be better but deep down knows he's seen as weak, soft and expected to turn out just like his father and he desperately wants to be seen as more than that, especially considering he knows that his father has stolen from citizens. It's frustrating for him to constantly be compared to the worst parts of his father when he spends almost his entire life trying to prove that he's better than that.

Linhardt prefers to be consoled.

His Console line is "I suppose I must try harder next time." His father is very critical of him so I expect he just doesn't want to feel like he's disappointing more people. A classic case of simultaneously not caring about what people think of him whilst actually caring more than he realises. But on another point, Linhardt IS very self-assured.

His Criticise line is "Failure. Hmm... I'm not used to that." Like Hubert, it is a new-found weakness but Linhardt feels much more inconvenienced by it than he does internalise it. He now has to spend all this time doing something he doesn't particularly want to do and he's very upset about it.

Caspar prefers to be criticised.

His Criticise line is "Whoa! I'll try harder next time!" Like the majority of the Black Eagle nobles, his father is very critical of him. But unlike the others, he gains confidence from it. He wants to be a better fighter and he knows that being corrected when he messes up is the only way he can become a better fighter and he will do whatever it takes to get where he needs to be.

His Console line is "It's all right... I know I messed up." Being consoled makes Caspar feel like a failure. It makes him feel like the other person thinks he's incapable of getting better and improving. It also doesn't give him anything that he can use to improve so it utterly drains him and makes him feel even worse.

Bernadetta prefers to be criticised. This is utterly fascinating to me and I genuinely love it for her. Like Ferdinand, Bernadetta desperately wants to grow as a person despite her trauma and utter terror of everyone around her.

Her Criticise line is "I'll try harder next time!". Bernadetta is so unused to criticism being a good thing. Her main experience with it is her father belittling her and calling her useless so when Byleth is gentle and just correcting her on what to do, she is reminded that criticism can be kind and she can do better and that she does want to try and improve as a person and a fighter.

Her Console line is "That's... really kind...". I don't think she dislikes being consoled but I think after she's calmed down from her failure, she regrets having not gained anything from it and having just been comforted because she panicked and thought she would be punished/belittled.

Dorothea prefers to be consoled. She's such a fascinating character with her flirting and her intense self-hatred. Either way, she heavily internalises her failure and allows it to intensify her intense dislike of herself.

Her Console line is "Oh, Professor. You're too kind.". Her flirting with the professor is so fascinating. She puts up such an intense front of being careless and holding herself above everyone else whilst she desperately craves to be loved and comforted and saved from her own intense self-hatred. She's desperate for any sort of confirmation but refuses to beg for it or let it appear like she's desperate for it and so she teases and flirts, in the hope that she'll recieve more love.

Her Criticise line is "Aw, I knew that answer." She's so disappointed with herself and internalises it so heavily. She knows she can do better and is frustrated that she failed on what she considered to be something so minor. There is also a factor of trying to make herself look better. She may not have actually known the answer but she is the only commoner within the Black Eagles and she can't let herself be seen as lesser than the rest of them so she makes herself seem all knowing despite not being at all.

Petra prefers to be criticised. Both of her lines are her asking how she can become better.

Her Console line is "I would like to be having more guidance, please." and her Criticism line is "I did not have success. Please, be guiding me." They're practically the same line. She has absolutely no interest in being comforted. All she wants is to become better. She is self-assured and knows she's good at what she does. She wants to become a better fighter so she can reclaim Brigid from The Empire and lead her country as their Queen. Being consoled is a waste of her time when she could be learning and growing from her mistakes.

[rainbowsky]

Hi RBS! I felt very moved and inspired by their individual stories and their love. So much that it’s given me more motivation in my own life, hoping to develop some of the amazing qualities I see in them. To be able to put in the dedication and work to be the best you can be, to fight for your passions and your person, and to pick yourself up after failure when you need to without letting it break you – that’s very much a person I’d like to be.

So I wanted to ask: Have they/their relationship inspired you in your on life?

Hi blah-bla-blah!

Far be it from me to answer a fun, simple question with a fun, simple answer! 😅

Thanks for the question, I hope you're well! You're right, those are good qualities to have, and I'm glad you've been inspired to become a better version of yourself.

I think this is an interesting question for every turtle to ponder. Not only is it fun/valuable to reflect on how GG and DD have inspired us, but I think it's equally important to have some self-reflection around what we get out of fandom and out of following them.

It's easy to get caught up in fandom and in beautiful pictures and exciting stories and lose sight of where we are in all of this.

I want to be a better person and live a better life, and I equally want to make sure I'm not doing anything harmful or losing sight of what's important both as an individual and as a fan.

So here's the honest truth on that.

The good

On a personal level, GG and DD have had a huge impact on my life and on my perspective. Most of that impact has been due to who they are, where they're from and what they create rather than anything to do with their relationship or 'their love'.

Yes, like most turtles I find GG and DD's devotion to each other and their incredible alignment and rapport with each other very unique, sweet and even entertaining - especially their bickering in multiple languages and through cryptic references - but that's not by any means the biggest impact they've had on me.

Probably because I define 'impacts' as 'factors that have changed something fundamentally about me or my life'.

Here are some of the most positive impacts:

Expanding my horizons

Since becoming a fan of GG and DD I've noticed that my world and my mind have expanded dramatically on multiple fronts. I have been inspired to dig deeply into Chinese social and political topics, history, culture, queer issues, human rights, etc. and I've become a bit of a scholar on all of that (and by 'scholar' I mean 'someone who strives to learn as much as possible' not 'someone who knows a lot').

And I have learned a lot about China and many topics as they pertain to China, but by extension I've also learned a lot more about that entire region of the world - the political, social and historical realities, the cities and geography, the languages and cultures, the landscape of queer rights, queer acceptance and queer culture, etc. And as someone who was already interested in Asian countries and cultures, it's been humbling to realize how little I actually knew/know.

It has enriched my life immeasurably to have these topics become a deep interest of mine.

Fan fiction

Another really great thing that's come out of my interest in GG and DD is that I've developed an appreciation for and an interest in fan fiction - which has in turn enriched my life in so many ways:

It's given me a new perspective on remixing culture and a newfound respect and admiration for one of the most maligned and marginalized art forms on the planet. I strongly feel most of the hate fanfic gets comes directly out of misogyny as channelled through the more socially acceptable vectors of queerphobia/kinkphobia. I can't help but compare remix culture in male-dominated musical spaces with remix culture in female-dominated fandom and literary spaces, and look critically at how differently they are treated in our society. How differently they are valued, perceived and discussed.

It has given me an entirely new insight into writing and into how to improve writing. Almost all the published material that exists in the world is heavily edited and highly polished, so that we're rarely put in a position to be exposed to a lot of amateur writing. Reading so much amateur - often somewhat raw - writing has enabled me to get a much fuller picture of the structures of storytelling and of what works and doesn't work for me, which has had a positive impact on my writing and on my attitude toward storytelling.

Reading a broad range of stories has really opened my mind about a lot of things I used to have a bit of a closed-minded attitude about. ABO, for example, used to creep me out. Now I find the ways this genre examines and subverts social structures extremely interesting and compelling (although there are still limits to my appreciation of the genre).

I've also learned more about myself and my kinks through reading fan fiction. I have had the occasional moment of self-discovery from reading stories that feature so many different relationships and dynamics, and that go to so many unique lengths to explore and subvert social and sexual norms. This is part of why I feel so strongly that the exploration people do via reading and writing fanfic is deeply important, even if authors and readers don't always set out to have a 'meaningful journey' when they write/read a particular story. And once an interest has been sparked, there are dozens, hundreds - in some cases even thousands - of stories to be found that explore or examine that angle/topic.

One good example of this is just the idea of romantic/sweet stories in general. I have never been particularly interested in such things. I consider myself to be pretty unromantic. I'm not even much of a romcom guy. My partner likes romcoms, and I generally just 'tolerate' them when he puts one on. If someone told me prior to getting into this fandom that one day I'd spend a lot of time reading romance stories I would have thought they were trolling me, but here I am voraciously reading about how a cafe barista meets a graphic designer and falls in love, or getting excited about the new ER doctor/single dad music teacher story or whatever. 😅

It has also given me an entire community of interesting people to connect with (and a whole new language/way of connecting) that I previously had no idea existed.

The vast majority of the fan fiction I read is WangXian fan fic, but I never in a million years would have started reading fan fic at all if it weren't for GG and DD and my interest in them.

Putting myself out there

I've talked a bit about this in the past, but blogging has been somewhat rehabilitative for me. I tend to keep to myself a lot and I don't generally put myself out there in a public way. IRL I'm quite private and even withdrawn. My interest in GG and DD has given me a venue for being more socially open without making me feel too socially unsafe.

As a result I've made a lot of new friends and I've been able to share my ideas in ways I've never been able to before. Especially on topics like this. I just can't imagine myself ever talking openly about some of the topics I talk about on my blog - particularly some of the topics that are stigmatized or considered to be 'feminine' topics - prior to getting into this fandom.

And because I've been discussing and sharing these topics for so many years, I've become much more comfortable with and open to discussing them IRL. Some of them, anyway. It's progress.

I've also discovered that there are ways to feel socially comfortable, confident and safe in the world. This is huge for me. As an autistic/ADHD queer person I have often felt uncomfortable in social situations, worried about whether I will be misunderstood or put my foot in my mouth. Here I've found people who have a lot of the same issues, and I've mostly been accepted for who I am (although of course I've also had a lot of hate thrown at me).

I've always had 'special interests', but I've rarely ever been able to fully explore them and share them with others. Tumblr has given me a platform/venue to do that, and it's made a huge difference to my life and to my self-acceptance around being different and around having deep interests that others find strange.

Overall, having this blog and sharing these interests has been a massive positive force in my life.

Self-acceptance

Another thing that GG and DD have given me is a better perspective on my own limitations and self-expectations. While a lot of fans say GG and DD inspire them to strive for more, achieve more, etc. - and they do for me as well to some degree - the bigger impact is that they remind me that not everyone is going to be a superstar, and that's OK.

GG and DD have both had support, opportunity and options that I simply didn't have and never will have. I talked about this in a bit more detail in an ask response back in 2020.

Given where I came from and the background I had my achievements are practically miraculous, but they're also very modest. When I look at GG and DD I remind myself of that, and I am able to be more forgiving and accepting toward myself for my perceived shortcomings and limitations.

There are other self-acceptance aspects to this as well. For example, I have always had an attachment to plushies. It's something that I just can't explain and have always been very ashamed and embarrassed about. I always have a favored plushie and I can't get to sleep without one, ever since I was a very small child.

Seeing GG in his airport photos many years ago, he would always be carrying a plushie. He also often had plushies around him in the video diaries that he would post. That meant a lot to me, and helped me heal some of the embarrassment and shame I have had throughout my life.

There are other things like this, often little things that have made me feel like it's okay to do this or it's okay to be that way. Some bigger things as well.

How about DD and his blunt honesty? This is something that I have been maligned for throughout my life. When I was a little little kid, my mother used to warn people who came to the house, "Be careful, he says what he thinks!"

Throughout my life, especially considering that I have been different from other people in ways that I can't always hide or fly under the radar about, there has frequently been a pitchfork-wielding sort of mob attitude toward how I express myself. I have often been misunderstood, singled out and demonized for simply being an honest person.

I see that this happens a lot to DD as well. People, especially people who are negatively predisposed to him for one reason or another, frequently interpret him as rude, or disrespectful, or savage. It's heartbreaking, because he's such a deeply respectful, kind-hearted person.

I cannot possibly overstate how much I treasure this about him, his personality and the way he expresses himself. I have felt like a horrible person for so long, and watching him makes me see myself through another lens and realize that I'm not that horrible person I've been taught to think of myself as.

So yeah, there are some personal ways that watching them has led to self-acceptance that I never thought I would find.

Other artists

Being a fan of GG and DD has exposed me to a lot of artists actors, musicians, etc that I would never have otherwise learned about. Some of whom are a huge inspiration to me in their own right (Seungyoun, Zhou Shen and Ayunga immediately come to mind).

This has been a huge blessing to my life. I feel so grateful for all of the new artists and creators that I have discovered through my love of GG and DD.

Turtles

Of course I cannot fail to mention all of the ways in which turtles inspire me. They are such a fun, humorous, mostly humble and sweet group of people. So much incredible creativity and so many people who are full of love and enthusiasm. All of the great works of charity that are done in GG and DD's names as well. Their ingenuity and cleverness and wit. C-turtles especially can be truly brilliant and hilarious in ways that are often totally new to me.

And turtles have brought this fascinating language of clownery, fake rumors, detective work and insightfulness that I find so enjoyable to be a part of.

The dolls. Let's not forget the dolls. I never would have thought that I would be interested in dolls at this stage in my life, but I absolutely love all of the dolls and the little outfits and the fictional GGDD offspring, Zhanbi and Bobi, all of pairings of all of their drama characters... It is all just so much fun to be a part of.

Turtles and GGDD have also helped me to get through some of the most difficult times of my entire life. Through deaths of people close to me, through a freaking pandemic, through wars and disasters and climate change and political horrors, through some pretty deep personal lows. I feel so grateful to have had GG and DD and all of my friends and fellow turtles who have helped me survive all this darkness, and who have shared a lot of the brightest moments with me.

The bad (and grey)

Like I just said, as a ND person I tend to get immersed in special interests, and while this fandom and this blog have mostly been a positive way for me to do that, there has been a downside to it. I spend a lot of time with these topics - not just GG and DD but all the topics that have sparked my interest via this fandom: Chinese/Asian politics and queer rights, fandom topics, fan fiction, etc. etc. - and this exploration inevitably happens at the expense of some of my other goals and interests.

I used to spend a lot of time on creative projects, for example, but it's been ages since I've worked on any projects, and even longer since I've finished one. There is only so much time in a day, and every hour I spend with fandom interests is an hour I don't have for something else.

It has also at times negatively impacted my relationships, and I've been actively trying to prioritize them more, which means even more sacrifices of other things.

That's why sometimes you'll see me be very active here, and other times I will be much less active. It's why I can start posts but have a hard time finishing them (my drafts folder is shocking, trust me - you'd be genuinely shocked at how many lengthy posts, reviews, years old ask responses, etc. that are nearly finished but not ready to publish).

I'm not great at finding balance with things like this, and I struggle to keep organized and focused, especially when I have outside demands being made of me that conflict with some of my other interests.

Anyone who's read my blog knows that I can be preachy at times. I'm aware of that, and I actively try not to be so tedious.

But I'm also a bit preachy in my life outside fandom, toward people who say and believe ridiculous shit about China/Chinese people. There's so much Sinophobic propaganda hammered into everyone in the West, it's appalling. I have always been intolerant of any whiff of racism or xenophobia in myself and those around me, but since becoming a fan of GG and DD I've become somewhat of an unapologetic asshole about these things.

I just get so sick of hearing anti-China commentary, I have no patience for it at all. NO, I'm not by any stretch of the imagination a China cheerleader. I'm actually pretty brutally critical of China on many levels - particularly of the CCP - and I cringe when I hear naive people parrot CCP propaganda. But it's kind of alarming how uncritically people accept what they are told about people and situations they know nothing about.

And yeah, on some levels this is a really good thing. People should be challenged on their incorrect or harmful ideas. But overall it's added some friction and conflict to my life that wasn't there before.

It's also fucked up my sleep a lot. As an insomniac and as an autistic person I need a very consistent sleep schedule - ideally one that aligns with the sleep/wake schedule of those around me - or a lot of bad things will happen for me.

Insomnia tends to have a snowball effect in my life, and if I don't get enough sleep one night it's twice as hard to get sleep the next night, and so on and so on. That in turn has a big negative impact on my ability to handle stress and overstimulation, to focus, to stay organized, etc..

Being a fan of Chinese superstars has mercilessly fucked with this on a regular basis. It's pretty hard to stick to a healthy sleep schedule when I'm following events that are happening in a distant time zone. I've become a lot better with this lately, but again - that comes at a sacrifice. When I'm getting 8 hours of sleep a night instead of 3, those hours have to come from somewhere.

The ugly

I have become a target for hate in ways that are often really hard to avoid. This is somewhat inevitable. Anyone who puts themselves out there in any way - no matter how well-intended - will find themselves the target of hate and harassment from someone somewhere.

And it just so happens that there are some features of this fandom that make it a particularly compelling target for some people. The fact that it's a fandom, the fact that it involves queer topics, the fact that it involves real people, the fact that there are rivalries, the fact that it involves discussing ideas some people might find challenging or offensive. The fact that so much of it is a matter of opinion, and I am daring to express mine.

And being targeted is difficult for me. I grew up being viciously bullied throughout my life. People used to call me names, throw stuff at me, spread hateful lies about me, even physically attack me, right from childhood into adulthood. Being different - especially where I was from - was not acceptable, and I was different in so many visible ways.

So while I've gotten much better at handling this kind of thing (and that should really be added to the 'good' list above), it isn't without its harms. Closing my anonymous inbox has massively improved things, but haters will unfortunately always be a fixture as long as I continue in this fandom.

Another impact that falls in the 'ugly' category for me is the fact that I almost never read non-fandom content anymore. I used to voraciously read literature and a wide range of non-fiction books, at a very high volume. I rarely do anymore. When I read it's usually fan fiction or else something fandom-related. I feel this has rotted my brain a bit, let's be real.

However, as I said before, fan fiction and this fandom in general has enriched my life in a lot of positive ways, so it's not all bad. But it does bother me.

It's just the way my brain is wired - it has become much harder for me to get into things that aren't directly related to my interests. I also find that fan fiction feels safe and soothing - something that I often need as a trauma survivor, autistic/ADHD person, etc.

I have to regularly evaluate where I am with all of this, and make adjustments to ensure I've got time for IRL commitments, 'regular' reading/viewing topics, etc. and that balance is not always easy.

What about love?

This is what a lot of turtles talk about when it comes to GG and DD, and I suppose it does apply to me here. They've definitely had an impact on how I view romance, and my own relationship.

I guess I could say I've become more patient and less complacent. I look at our disagreements more affectionately as bickering, and don't read too much into them or let them fester. I take more notice of our compatibilities and accomplishments.

I've always been the sort of person who needs/expects independence in a relationship. A relationship is always made up of individuals. I believe that two people who foster each other's independence and individuality are going to thrive and maintain their interest/satisfaction with each other better than those who focus unduly on the 'relationship' as some sort of third party entity.

It inspires me when I see GG and DD doing what I perceive to be the same thing. They're out there taking their own paths and doing their own things, while supporting and appreciating each other and sharing all the ways in which they're compatible. That's what a truly healthy relationship looks like IMHO.

I've always been this way myself, but watching GG and DD makes me appreciate it more than I used to. It also makes me want to protect and preserve that aspect of myself and my relationship, because I can see how important it is to a truly companionable, loving connection.

I think of DD saying, "Miss me later" and I laugh, because that's exactly how I am (yet according to GG he's 'more clingy than Jianguo' 😅). I think it's possible to go out in the world and live your life as an individual, while sharing a private internal world with someone you love. To me that's the ideal.

Some of the best for last

One of the biggest and best impacts GG and DD have had on me has come through their creative works. I can't overstate how much I love and appreciate the work they do. Especially their music, and for DD, his dance (although their acting projects have also been great to watch and follow).

It's often a source of frustration for me that the projects that have impacted me the most are the ones that I struggle to write about on my blog. With the exception of Stand Up and some other bits and pieces here and there, I don't think I've ever been able to fully articulate my feelings about the projects that have touched me the most.

I have a huge long post still in my drafts about Like the Sunshine. That is a song and dance performance that can't even re-watch or re-listen to because it hits me so hard. The song came out years ago and I still haven't finished that post.

Similarly, Hidden Blade was so inspiring to me in how DD tackled that role and really brought his character to life. I was completely blown away by that performance.

WM hit me like a freight train, and I really want and intend to write a full and thorough review of the entire album and all of the video content (and the physical album if/when it ever arrives), but I haven't been able to even make a proper start.

I also have so many feelings and thoughts about the career choices they have been making, especially DD, who I could not be prouder of. I have written a bit about some of that, but I haven't even hit the tip of the iceberg of how much it all inspires me.

All I can say is, I'm here because I get something very important out of following them and out of sharing my thoughts and feelings about them. They both mean a hell of a lot to me, and I have a lot of fun and learn a lot of new things and see a lot of new perspectives that inspire me through being a fan of theirs.

I also just really appreciate all of you who read and engage with my blog, and who interact with me - whether to challenge me or praise me, either is fine. I just really value that a lot. I feel inspired by the ideas people share with me and by the opportunity to (hopefully) contribute in some way to a positive fandom experience for others.

And I have a few very close friends here who mean the world to me. I truly treasure all of them.

I could go on and on. This is a question that sparks a lot of thoughts and feelings.

I know this has gotten very long-winded, and I will understand if 90% of you have not gotten far enough to read this sentence, but to all of you (whether you got this far or not), thanks so much.

May we all continue to enjoy everything that GG and DD have brought into our lives, and all the ways that they have brought us together. 💛.

I would love it if my readers could share some of the ways that GG and DD and turtles have inspired you. I'd love to hear some of your stories!

There is a somewhat related post about how I deal with people's reactions IRL to my interest in fandom, which you can find here.

[keehomania]

professor (교수님) — kim namjoon (김남준)

✧.* 18+

the classroom was a haven of knowledge, a place where the boundaries of your mind were pushed and expanded. every time you walked through those doors, you were met with an air of possibility, the faint scent of old books mingling with the fresh anticipation of discovery. all of the professors had ways of making the most complex concepts feel within reach, of turning abstract theories into tangible truths that you could almost hold in your hands.

they spoke with a quiet confidence, their words weaving intricate patterns that painted the vastness of the world before you. each lecture was a journey, guiding you through the twisting paths of philosophy, literature, and history. they had a gift for connecting seemingly unrelated ideas, showing you how the art of renaissance painters could influence modern technology, or how ancient philosophies could still hold relevance in the digital age. under their guidance, you realized that learning wasn’t just about absorbing information; it was about seeing the world through different lenses, understanding the interconnectivity of all things.

you delved into texts that explored the human condition, the nature of existence, and the purpose of life. you wrestled with questions that had no easy answers, questions that required you to look within yourself for understanding. it wasn’t just about gaining knowledge for the sake of it—it was about applying what you learned to your own life, using it as a tool to navigate the complexities of existence.

but among all the things you studied—science, art, history, language—there was one thing that stood out as the most important: the lessons you learned. these weren’t found in any textbook or taught in any lecture. they were the lessons life had already carved into your soul, shaped by your experiences, your failures, your triumphs. under your own guidance, you came to understand that the most valuable knowledge you could acquire wasn’t about facts or theories. it was about the wisdom you gained from living, from making mistakes, and most importantly, from learning from those mistakes. in the end, it wasn’t just the information you gathered that mattered, but how you used it to grow, to become better, and to understand the world and yourself more deeply. if only you had put those lessons learned to better use.

you hadn't been taught the lesson of love, not in the way you had learned about history or philosophy. love was never something you could study in a textbook or learn through the wisdom of others. it was a lesson you learned by living it, feeling it, enduring it. but you had always trusted too easily, believing that everyone who offered you a kind word or a gentle touch had your best interests at heart. it was a trait that made those around you frustrated, watching as you opened yourself up to hurt time and again. even you, in quieter moments of reflection, found yourself exasperated by your own naivety. but you couldn't help it; trusting others came as naturally to you as breathing.

so, it was no shock—no surprise, really—when you got your heart broken for the first time. you were in your early twenties, a time when many had already experienced their share of heartbreaks and fleeting romances. you, on the other hand, had waited. you had held out for something real, something lasting, thinking that by doing so, you could avoid the pain that others had endured. but love, as you learned, didn't work that way.

for two years, you were caught up in what you thought was a love that would last forever. you built your life around it, around him. you imagined a future where the two of you would wake up side by side, where you would make breakfast together in a sunlit kitchen, sharing quiet moments over coffee. you dreamed of nights spent stargazing, your fingers intertwined as you pointed out constellations, finding comfort in the steady light of the north star. your idea of forever was simple, yet profound: it was the promise of a shared life, of growing old together, of finding peace in each other's presence.

his idea of forever was something else entirely. it was a fleeting thing, something that could be found at the bottom of a bottle of vodka or in the anonymity of a cheap motel room. it was in the arms of whoever he could get his hands on first, someone who wasn’t you. the realization that he had been unfaithful��repeatedly, with over fourteen different girls—shattered the image of the life you had built in your mind. every girl was another crack in the foundation of your trust, another tear in the fabric of your heart. it wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt, but the way you had been so blind to it, so willing to believe that what you had was real.

you were devastated, to say the least. the pain wasn’t just emotional; it was physical, a deep ache that settled in your chest, radiating through your entire body. the nights were the hardest. you would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of your relationship, trying to pinpoint where it had all gone wrong. you wanted to understand how the love you had given so freely could have been so thoroughly disregarded. but no matter how many times you turned it over in your mind, you couldn’t make sense of it.

the worst part was that you couldn’t even be angry with him. you wanted to be—to scream, to curse him for the way he had treated you—but all you felt was a hollow sadness. you were disappointed in him, but more so, you were disappointed in yourself. how could you have let this happen? how could you have been so foolish, so trusting? you had always prided yourself on being smart, on being able to see through people’s intentions, but when it came to him, you had been blind.

the nights following your heartbreak were long, seemingly endless. sleep was a distant stranger, slipping through your fingers every time you tried to grasp it. Instead, you spent those hours in late-night conversations with your friends, searching for solace in their words. their voices were a lifeline, pulling you from the depths of your despair, even if just for a little while. you talked about everything and nothing, dissecting the intricacies of your failed relationship, trying to find some sense of closure that always seemed just out of reach.

those talks were punctuated by silences filled with the quiet clicking of a lighter, the soft exhale of smoke as you shared a joint or two. the haze it brought was a welcome escape, a way to dull the sharp edges of your thoughts, to ease the relentless ache in your chest. it wasn’t a solution, but it was enough to get you through the night, to carry you to the next day. and on those days when the darkness seemed to press in too close, you relied on the small comforts you could control—a coin flipped to decide whether you would indulge in a few too many sweets or abstain from food altogether. it was a way of exerting some semblance of control over a life that felt like it was spiraling out of your grasp.

but after weeks of the same routine, you began to realize that you were merely existing, floating in a limbo of your own making. the conversations, the indulgences, the vices—they were all temporary fixes, distractions that couldn’t mask the hollow feeling that had settled in your chest. you were tired of it, tired of feeling like a shadow of yourself, tired of being weighed down by the remnants of a love that was never truly yours.

and so, one night, as you stared into the mirror, you made up your mind. you were going to step out of the bubble you had been living in, to let loose, if only for a single night. you reasoned that if he could spend two years indulging in every whim and desire, seemingly without consequence, then why couldn’t you do the same for just one night? why couldn’t you, for once, allow yourself the freedom to be someone else, to cast aside the constraints of who you were and embrace something—someone—new?

as you stood there, gazing at your reflection, you barely recognized the person staring back at you. your makeup was bold, the colors striking and uncharacteristic of your usual understated look. the dress you wore was scandalous, clinging to your curves in a way that made you feel both powerful and exposed. it was a look that screamed confidence, even if you didn’t fully feel it yet. but that was the point, wasn’t it? you were going to stop being you for just one night, just enough time to forget, to drown out the memories of a love that had never truly been yours.

you inhaled deeply, letting the air fill your lungs, steadying yourself for what was to come. Yyu weren’t sure what you were seeking—perhaps a fleeting connection, a momentary escape, someone who could make you forget all about him for a few hours. maybe you didn’t need to know. maybe it was enough to simply let nature take its course, to surrender to the night and whatever it might bring.

the club pulsed with a life of its own, the heavy bass thumping through the floor, reverberating in your chest as the neon lights cast erratic shadows across the crowd. bodies moved in sync with the music, a sea of motion and sound that made it easy to lose yourself if you let it. but your mind, despite the alcohol and the haze of smoke in the air, remained annoyingly sharp, focused on anything but the moment at hand.

you leaned closer to your friend, your voice slightly raised to be heard over the music. “did you hear about the new english and philosophy teacher? they’re replacing—”

ahe groaned, cutting you off with an exasperated look. “please,” she begged, placing a hand on your arm, “not tonight. can we just, for once, not talk about teachers or school or anything remotely responsible? we’re here to let loose, remember?”

you hesitated, the words dying on your lips. she wasn’t wrong. you were supposed to be here to escape, to forget, not to get caught up in the mundane details of your everyday life. but old habits died hard, and it was difficult to switch off the part of you that found comfort in routine and order, even when surrounded by chaos. still, you nodded, forcing a smile, and took a deep breath, letting the noise and the lights and the sheer energy of the place wash over you. “okay,” you said, more to yourself than to her. “okay, let’s do this.”

your friend grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she reached for the bottle on the table. the label was foreign, the name of the alcohol something you couldn’t even begin to pronounce. that should have been your first warning, but tonight was all about ignoring those little voices of caution in your head. she poured a shot for you, and then one for herself, the clear liquid shimmering under the lights. “bottoms up,” she said, lifting her glass.

you mirrored her action, the cool glass pressed against your lips as you downed the shot in one swift motion. the burn was immediate, searing down your throat and settling heavily in your stomach. it was unpleasant, but it was also a distraction, a welcome one at that. you had no intention of focusing on the men who watched you from across the room, their eyes lingering on your exposed skin as if you were some kind of display piece. it made your skin crawl, but you forced yourself to ignore it, to focus on the drinking instead. the coin had been flipped, and tonight, apparently, drinking it all away was your new diet. so you did just that. another shot, then another, until the sharp edges of your thoughts began to blur and the leering gazes of strangers became easier to dismiss.

but then, in the midst of it all, you saw him. he was standing at the edge of the crowd, partially obscured by the throng of people. you didn’t see much at first, just a tall figure with a presence that drew your eye. He was turned slightly away, talking to someone, but something about him caught your attention, held it. you found yourself staring, your curiosity piqued in a way that the alcohol couldn’t dull. and then he turned around.

your eyes met, and the world seemed to slow for a moment, the noise around you fading into the background. he was gorgeous, that was your first thought. his features were sharp, striking—high cheekbones, a jawline that could cut glass, and eyes that were dark and intense, holding a depth that made you feel as though he could see right through you. there was a sweet smile on his lips, but it was his eyes that captivated you. there was something almost menacing in them, a contrast that sent a shiver down your spine.

he didn’t look away, and neither did you. for a moment, it was as if the two of you were the only ones in the room, a silent understanding passing between you despite the fact that you didn’t know him, and he didn’t know you. but that didn’t matter. not tonight. before you could second-guess yourself, you did something you wouldn’t normally do. you flashed him a smile, one that you hoped was confident, maybe even a little alluring, and silently prayed that the universe would take your side for once. that, just this once, everything would fall into place.

you turned back around, the music vibrating through your body as you reached for another drink, your hand shaking slightly as you grasped the cool glass. you brought it to your lips and downed it in one go, the burn familiar by now, comforting in its own way. the alcohol was your crutch tonight, something to hold onto as you navigated this unfamiliar terrain of letting go, of not being yourself for just one night. you prayed silently, to whatever or whoever might be listening, that he would come over. that the universe, for once, would be kind. and as if in answer to your unspoken wish, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

you turned, heart racing, and there he was. the man from across the room, the one whose gaze had pulled you in and held you captive. his smile was easy, confident, the kind that could make anyone believe that the night might hold something special, something just for you. “mind if i buy you a drink?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, carrying easily over the noise. “or have you had enough already?”

you smiled, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. fuck, not another drink or you might just convulse, you thought silently. but what you really said was, “you could keep me company, and i might make it worth your while.” he laughed, a sound that seemed to roll through you like the bass in the music, deep and warm. “i like that offer,” he said, as he took a seat next to you, his presence somehow making the world around you feel smaller, more intimate.

there was something about him, something that made you feel like the night was just beginning, like everything before this moment had been leading up to something. you looked at him, really looked at him, trying to decipher what it was that drew you to him, but all you could see were those eyes, that sharp jaw, the way he seemed to belong in a place like this, even if you didn’t. “what’s a guy like you doing alone in a place like this?” you asked, leaning in slightly, letting the alcohol loosen your tongue.

he shrugged, his expression casual, as if the answer didn’t matter much. “felt like it’d be nice for a change,” he replied, before his gaze slid back to you. “what about you?”

you sighed, the weight of the night settling on your shoulders. “i felt it’d be nice too,” you admitted, “but that feeling was dead wrong.” he laughed again, and the sound was a little sharper this time, a little more knowing. it made you pause, a sudden, unwelcome memory resurfacing—a project due tomorrow, something about socrates. you groaned inwardly, realizing how far you had strayed from your usual path, how this was so unlike you.

“a project,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him, the thought slipping out before you could stop it. he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “what about?”

“socrates,” you said with a hint of frustration. “i decided to do one on him, but it completely slipped my mind.” he scoffed lightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “poor choice, aristotle is much more influential.”

“okay, and?” you countered, a spark of your usual self peeking through. “socrates is the more seminal one.” his amusement deepened, his eyes studying you with renewed interest. “i can’t believe a smart thing like you is in a place like this.”

you frowned, the words not sitting well with you. they reminded you of everything you were trying to forget tonight, everything you didn’t want to be for just a few hours. “i don’t want to be a smart thing,” you said softly, almost to yourself. “not tonight.”

something in his expression shifted, softened, as he looked at you. he placed a hand on your thigh, the touch warm and steady, grounding you in a way that nothing else had that night. “are you sure you feel that way?” he asked gently, his voice low, the words carrying a weight you weren’t sure you could handle. you didn’t feel that way, not really. but tonight wasn’t about what you usually felt, or who you usually were. It was about letting go, about being someone else, if only for a little while. so you forced yourself to nod, even though a small voice in the back of your mind screamed that this wasn’t you, that this wasn’t right.

he seemed to sense your hesitation, but he didn’t push. instead, he simply said, “let me help you.” you opened your mouth to ask what he meant, but before you could, he was gently tugging your wrist, gesturing for you to follow him. your vision, blurred by the alcohol and the dim lighting, focused enough for you to see where he was leading you—to the back, to the private rooms. a sense of unease settled in your stomach, but you pushed it aside, telling yourself that this was what you wanted, what you needed.

you followed him, your heart pounding louder with each step. the corridor to the private rooms was dimly lit, the music a dull thrum in the background. as you walked, he glanced back at you, that same smile playing on his lips, the one that had stopped you in your tracks just minutes earlier. “i never got your name, sweetheart,” he said, his voice teasing, yet somehow sincere.

you gave him your name, “(y/n) (l/n),” the sound of it foreign in your own ears, as if it belonged to someone else. “and yours?” you asked, trying to hold onto the last vestiges of caution.

he turned to you fully then, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of mischief and something else, something darker. “namjoon,” he said, the name rolling off his tongue with a confidence that matched everything else about him. “kim namjoon.” and as he said it, you felt the world shift slightly, as if that name carried more weight than you could understand. but you were too far gone to care, too far gone to do anything but follow him, to see where this night might lead, to forget about everything else—your project, your heartbreak, your old self—and lose yourself in the unknown, if only for a few hours.

the private room was dimly lit, the shadows playing across the walls as you and namjoon stepped inside. the door clicked shut behind you, a sound that seemed to echo in the small space, followed by the unmistakable turn of a lock. it felt final, as if you were sealing yourself off from the rest of the world, from everything you knew, leaving only this moment, this man, and the uncertain promise of the night ahead.

you couldn’t help but watch him as he moved, your eyes tracing the strong lines of his body. the way his broad shoulders filled the space, how his black shirt clung to the muscles beneath, made your heart race. his hands, veiny and strong, were relaxed by his sides, but you couldn’t stop imagining them wrapped around you, feeling their strength and gentleness at once. and his eyes—god, his eyes—were the most mesmerizing of all. they were dark, intense, and held a dangerous kind of allure, like something that could either save you or ruin you, depending on how close you got.

a flicker of doubt wormed its way into your mind. you worried you might not be enough, not for someone like him. he was so composed, so sure of himself, and you—well, you were there trying to forget who you were, trying to become someone else for just a night. what if that wasn’t enough? what if you weren’t enough? namjoon must have sensed your unease because his gaze softened, the same easy smile spreading across his lips as he approached you. his steps were unhurried, confident, and with each one, the air between you seemed to thicken, heavy with anticipation.

when he reached you, he didn’t say anything at first. he simply cupped your cheek in his hand, his touch warm, and surprisingly gentle. his thumb stroked your skin, the soft caress sending a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, all you could do was stare up at him, lost in the darkness of his eyes. “you’re not afraid, sweetheart, are you?” he asked, his voice a low purr that sent another shiver through you. it was a voice that could coax secrets from you, a voice that promised things you weren’t sure you were ready for but found yourself wanting anyway.

was it fear that you were feeling? the heat coursing through your veins, the quickened beat of your heart, the way your skin seemed to burn where he touched you—was that fear? you didn’t know, and the uncertainty of it all made you nervous. but you shook your head, trying to convince yourself as much as him that you weren’t afraid.

he didn’t seem entirely convinced. he let out a soft, almost playful, tsk, his thumb still brushing against your cheek. “you should use your words, yeah?” he coaxed, his tone teasing, but there was an edge of seriousness beneath it, something that told you he wanted you to be sure, that he wanted you to choose this, to choose him. “i promise i’m not,” you managed to say, your voice softer than you intended, but steady enough. it felt like a small victory, a way to prove to yourself that you could do this, that you could be this version of yourself, if only for a night.

it seemed to be enough for him. namjoon’s smile widened, and the warmth in his eyes deepened, drawing you in even further. he leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away, to change your mind, but you didn’t. you couldn’t. you were caught, helpless under the spell he was weaving with every look, every touch. when his lips finally met yours, it was like the world stopped. the kiss was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment, tasting it, tasting you. his lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours with a controlled kind of passion that left you breathless. he wasn’t rushing, wasn’t pushing for more, just kissing you like he had all the time in the world and was determined to spend it unraveling you, piece by piece.

you responded tentatively at first, unsure of how to match the intensity of his kiss. but he guided you, his free hand sliding around your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. the heat between you flared, igniting something deep within you, something that made you press back against him, your lips parting slightly as you began to lose yourself in the feel of him. namjoon took the invitation, deepening the kiss as his tongue brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. it wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claiming, a way of marking this moment as something significant, something more than just a fleeting encounter in a club. you could feel the way he held you, firm yet gentle, as if he was trying to tell you something without words, trying to show you how he could make you forget everything, even if just for tonight.

your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping them as if they were the only thing keeping you grounded. his body was solid, reassuring, and the way he held you made you feel small, but in a good way, like you were being enveloped by something safe, something you could trust, even if only for these few stolen hours. he pulled back slightly, just enough to break the kiss, and rested his forehead against yours. his breath was warm against your lips, mingling with your own, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, breathing together, the air thick with the tension and the promise of what was to come.

“you sure about this?” he asked again, his voice a whisper in the small space between you. his eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of doubt, any sign that you weren’t ready. but you were ready. or at least, you wanted to be. you nodded, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. it was calming in a way, a reminder that despite everything, despite the chaos in your own heart, there was something steady, something real, right in front of you. and so, with the taste of him still lingering on your lips, you whispered back, “i’m sure.”

his smile grew, and his hand slid down to the hem of your dress. with one swift tug, he pulled it over your head, revealing your bare skin to the cool air of the room. you felt exposed, vulnerable, but his gaze was like a warm blanket, wrapping around you, making you feel seen and desired. his eyes raked over you, pausing at your tits, your stomach, your hips, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat. he stepped back just enough to take you in, his gaze lingering on your lacy black bra, the one you’d picked out specifically for tonight, hoping it would be enough to catch his eye.

his hands went to his own shirt, and he began to unbutton it, one button at a time, his eyes never leaving yours. the anticipation was almost unbearable, the slow reveal of his chest, his abs, the v of his hips disappearing into his pants. when he was finally bare-chested, you couldn’t help but stare. he was beautiful, sculpted in a way that made your mouth water, and you felt a sudden urge to reach out, to trace every line and curve with your fingertips.

before you could act on the impulse, namjoon stepped closer again, his hand sliding up your back to unclasp your bra. it fell away, and your tits spilled into his waiting hands. his thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you gasped at the sensation, the pleasure shooting straight to your core. his eyes never left yours as he played with you, teasing you, watching as your breath grew shallower, as your eyes glazed over with lust. “you like that, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. and you nodded, unable to form coherent words as he continued to toy with your sensitive flesh, rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, tugging gently until you were squirming against him.

his other hand slid down to your ass, squeezing it firmly, and he stepped closer, pressing his growing erection against your stomach. it was a clear message, one that sent a bolt of excitement through you, making you even wetter than you already were. without breaking eye contact, he leaned down to whisper in your ear, his breath hot against your skin, “you’re so fucking pretty. can’t wait to ruin you.” the words sent a shiver down your spine, and you nodded, your voice a breathless agreement.

his hand moved from your ass to the hem of your panties, and with a quick pull, they were pooled around your ankles, leaving you in absolutely nothing. he knelt down, kissing a trail from your belly button to one your hips, and you could feel the dampness seeping onto his fingers. his fingers slid down your legs, relishing in the fact that you were completely bare before him. his eyes took in the sight of you, and you could see the hunger in them, the desire that mirrored your own.

his hand slid up your thigh, his thumb brushing against your clit, making you jump. he chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers through your body. “you’re sensitive, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice a purr that made you want to melt into him. “yes,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “good, i like that in a woman.”

his hand slid away, and you felt a pang of loss, but it was quickly replaced by the pressure of his mouth on your pussy, his tongue sliding through your folds, tasting you. your legs trembled, and you had to hold onto his shoulders to keep from collapsing. his tongue was skilled, teasing and probing, making you gasp and moan with every stroke. you’d never felt anything like this before, never been this exposed, this wanton. and as he worked you over, you realized you didn’t care. all you cared about was the feel of his mouth on you, the way he was making you feel.

his tongue circled your clit, and you felt your orgasm building, a pressure that grew and grew until you couldn’t hold it back any longer. you cried out, your body shaking as you came, the sensation overwhelming you. namjoon didn’t stop, didn’t ease up, just kept licking and sucking until you were a trembling mess, your legs barely able to hold you up.

he stood, a smug smile on his face, and you couldn’t help but stare at his erection, straining against his pants. he noticed your gaze and chuckled, reaching down to free himself. “you want it?” he asked, stroking himself, and you nodded, your mouth dry with need. he led you to the bed, pushing you down gently. “spread your legs for me,” he said, his voice a command that sent a thrill through you. you did as he asked, your heart racing as he climbed on top of you. he positioned himself at your entrance, and without any preamble, pushed inside you. you gasped, the sensation of his size filling you up, stretching you in the most delicious way.

his thrusts were deep and deliberate, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made you see stars. you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, your nails digging into his back. he groaned, the sound sending waves of pleasure through you. “you’re so tight, so wet,” he murmured, his breath hot in your ear. “feel so good around me, baby.”

his hand found your ass, and he began to spank you lightly, the sting melding with the pleasure, pushing you closer to the edge again. you moaned, your hips moving in sync with his, your body begging for more. “yes, like that,” you panted, and he complied, his hand coming down harder, the smack echoing in the room.

his movements grew more urgent, his breath coming in harsh pants against your neck. “you’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you?” he growled, his teeth grazing your skin. “yes, yes, please, namjoon,” you whimpered, unable to hold back the words that spilled from your lips.

his hand moved to your clit, his thumb pressing down as he thrust into you. the pressure was too much, and you shattered, your body clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. he followed closely behind, his own orgasm ripping through him, his body taut with the effort to hold off until you reached yours.

as you both came down from the high, he collapsed on top of you, his weight feeling surprisingly comforting. you could feel his heart hammering against your chest, matching the beat of your own. he kissed your neck, his breathing still ragged, and whispered, “you’re mine for the night, remember that.” and as you lay there, his cock still inside you, you realized you didn’t want it any other way.

his kisses grew softer, more tender, as his hand slid up to cup your cheek. he pulled out slowly, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness, but before you could miss it too much, he rolled onto his back, pulling you with him so that you were straddling him. he was still hard, and the feeling of him between your thighs was enough to make you want more. “ride me, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

you didn’t need any more encouragement than that. you positioned yourself over him, your hands on his chest for balance as you began to slide up and down, his cock filling you with every movement. the sensation was different like this, the angle hitting you in new, delicious ways. you moaned, throwing your head back as you found a rhythm that made your toes curl. namjoon’s hands roamed your body, caressing your tits, your waist, your hips, guiding you, pushing you to go faster, to take him deeper.

his eyes never left yours, watching you with a hunger that made you feel powerful, like you could do anything. and as you moved above him, grinding down on his length, you realized that maybe you could. you felt alive in a way you hadn’t in a long time, free from the constraints of who you were outside of this room.

his thumb found your clit again, and he began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles. your eyes rolled back in your head, and you leaned down to kiss him, your movements growing erratic as you approached the edge once more. he swallowed your moans, his own hips bucking up to meet yours, pushing you closer and closer. you felt it building, the tension coiling in your belly, tightening around his cock. your muscles clenched, and you gripped his shoulders, your nails digging in as you came, your body shaking with the force of it. namjoon’s grip on your hips tightened, his own orgasm following quickly after, his cock pulsing inside you.

you collapsed against him, your breaths mingling, your bodies slick with sweat. his arms wrapped around you, holding you close, and for a moment, you just enjoyed the feeling of him, the way he filled you up in more ways than one. as you caught your breath, you couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of the night would bring. would it be more of this? or would it end with the club, a memory that you’d cherish forever? either way, you knew you’d never forget the way he’d made you feel—like you were the only thing that mattered, like you were the most important person in the world. and as you felt his heart beating in time with yours, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t need to be anyone else but yourself to be enough.

the pale light of dawn was beginning to filter through the cracks in the curtains when you stirred, the dim glow pulling you out of a deep, dreamless sleep. it took you a moment to remember where you were. the unfamiliar surroundings, the dimly lit room, and the soft, warm body lying next to you—everything came rushing back in a disorienting wave. the events of the night before flashed in your mind, and with them, the realization of what time it must be.

your heart began to race as the panic set in. morning classes. you had morning classes, and you weren’t in your bed, you weren’t even in your apartment—you were still here, in a private room that now felt too intimate, too close. you sat up carefully, trying not to disturb namjoon, who was still sleeping peacefully beside you. the sheets were tangled around you both, his hand resting on your thigh, his chest rising and falling with each slow, steady breath.

your gaze dropped to him, taking in the sight of his relaxed features, his slightly tousled hair, the way the early morning light played across his face. he looked almost boyish in his sleep, the sharpness in his eyes softened, his usually confident demeanor replaced by something more vulnerable. it was a sight that made your heart warm, despite the chaos swirling in your mind. for a moment, you hesitated. there was a strange comfort in being there with him, in the warmth of his presence and the softness of the bed beneath you. part of you wanted to stay, to curl back up against him, to let the world outside wait a little longer. but reality was a harsh companion, and the ticking clock in your mind reminded you that you had responsibilities, a life that didn’t include waking up in a stranger’s bed after a night of reckless abandon.

you gently lifted his hand off your thigh, sliding out of bed as quietly as you could. your feet touched the cool floor, sending a shiver up your spine as you quickly scanned the room for your clothes. they were scattered across the floor—your dress draped over a chair, your shoes lying haphazardly near the door, your bag tucked under the bed. as you gathered your things, you couldn’t help but steal a glance back at namjoon. he was still asleep, his breathing deep and even, one arm stretched out across the bed where you had just been. you paused, taking in the way he looked so at peace, a contrast to the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling.

you dressed quickly, your movements hurried but careful not to make too much noise. the dress, once sleek and form-fitting, now felt slightly wrinkled and askew as you slipped it back on. your fingers fumbled with the zipper, your mind too distracted by the thought of the morning ahead and the fact that you were nowhere near ready for it. just as you reached for your bag, you heard a rustling behind you. you froze, praying he wouldn’t wake up, but when you turned around, there he was—propped up on one elbow, his eyes half-open, still heavy with sleep, but focused on you.

“where are you going?” he asked, his voice rough and low, still laced with the remnants of sleep. the sound of it sent a small thrill through you, even as you tried to calm your racing heart. “i have morning classes,” you replied, your voice quiet, almost apologetic. you weren’t sure why you felt the need to apologize, but something about the situation—the intimacy of the moment, the fact that you were leaving so abruptly—made you feel like you owed him an explanation.

namjoon blinked, his gaze sharpening slightly as he processed your words. he sat up fully, the sheets pooling around his waist as he ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier. “you won’t even let me treat you to breakfast?” he asked, a small, playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. you couldn’t help but smile back, though it was tinged with regret. “maybe another time,” you said, already moving toward the door. “but i really can’t be late for my classes.”

he watched you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he nodded. “i’ll see you around, then,” he said, his tone easy, but there was a note of something else in it, something that made your chest tighten slightly. you paused at the door, your hand on the handle, and turned back to him. “i had a good time,” you said, the words coming out softer than you intended, but they were true. despite everything, despite the way the morning had come too soon, you didn’t regret the night before.

he smiled again, that warm, disarming smile that had drawn you in from the start. “so did i.” with that, you slipped out of the room, the door closing softly behind you. the corridor outside was empty, the muffled thump of music from the club below barely audible through the thick walls. you hurried down the hallway, your mind racing with a million thoughts—what you were going to say if anyone saw you, how you were going to explain the state you were in, and most importantly, how you were going to make it to class on time.

the drive back to your apartment was a blur, your hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly as you sped through the early morning streets. the city was still waking up, the sun just beginning to rise, casting a pale, golden light over everything. you barely noticed, too focused on the task at hand—getting home, getting dressed, and somehow making it to class without looking like you had just rolled out of someone else’s bed. when you finally pulled up to your apartment, you nearly tripped over your own feet in your haste to get inside. the keys fumbled in your hand, slipping once, twice, before you managed to unlock the door and rush inside. your apartment was quiet, the kind of stillness that comes with the early morning hours, and for a brief moment, you let yourself pause, leaning against the door as you caught your breath.

there was no time to waste. you darted into your bedroom, shedding your dress and tossing it onto the bed as you rifled through your closet for your uniform. the blouse was slightly wrinkled, the skirt a little too short for your liking, but there was no time to worry about that now. you yanked the blouse on, your fingers clumsy as they buttoned it up, tucking it into the skirt with a haste that left it slightly uneven, but you didn’t care. you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you hurried to the bathroom, and winced. your makeup was a mess, the once-perfect red lipstick now faded to a nude smudge, your eyeliner smeared, leaving dark circles beneath your eyes that made you look more like a raccoon than the confident, put-together student you were supposed to be.

there was no time for a full fix, but you did what you could—wiping away the worst of the smudges with a makeup wipe, reapplying a thin layer of a lighter lpstick, and hoping that no one would look too closely. your hair was another matter entirely, tangled and wild from the night before, but a quick brush through had to suffice. with one last look in the mirror—satisfied that you were at least presentable—you grabbed your bag and bolted out the door, your heart pounding in your chest as you rushed to make it to class on time. you didn’t allow yourself to think about namjoon, about the way he had looked at you as you left, or the way his voice had lingered in your mind, soft and warm. there would be time for that later—maybe.

you made it to class just before the bell rang, your breath still a little uneven from the mad dash across campus. the relief that washed over you was short-lived, though, as you barely had time to compose yourself before you felt eyes on you. you caught soobin’s glance from the corner of your eye—he was the kind of friend who could read you like a book, even on your best days, and today was far from your best.

feigning being startled at your sudden appearance, soobin exaggeratedly flinched, his eyes widening in mock surprise before breaking into a smile. “well, well,” he drawled, his tone teasing, “i didn’t think you were gonna make it. i was about to call search and rescue.” you scowled at him, trying to ignore the way his smirk widened. but before you could retort, he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “so, how much is a night?”

his words were laced with humor, but they hit too close to home. you glared at him, a retort already on your lips. “you couldn’t afford it,” you shot back, your tone sharp, but there was no real heat behind it. the truth was too raw, too close to the surface, and you weren’t in the mood to joke about it. as you settled into your seat between soobin and heewon, you could feel the tension beginning to ease—only slightly, though. the classroom was slowly filling up, students chatting idly as they waited for class to begin, but you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach.

heewon, who had been flipping through her notes, glanced up at you and immediately burst into laughter at the sight of your disheveled appearance. “god, you pull off the messy whore look really well,” she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “almost like hyuna.” you rolled your eyes, not in the mood for jokes. “not today, hee,” you muttered, reaching into your bag to pull out a small mirror. you avoided looking at her directly as you adjusted your hair, trying to tame the unruly strands that refused to cooperate.

your reflection was unkind, showing the toll the morning’s rush had taken on you—your blouse was still slightly untucked, your skirt wrinkled from where you’d hastily shoved it on, and your lipstick was more of a faint suggestion than an actual color. heewon didn’t miss a beat, though. “if i didn’t know you,” she continued, her voice light and teasing, “i’d say you actually had that one-night stand you were talking about.”

the words hung in the air, and you froze, your hand stilling mid-motion as you applied another layer of nude lipstick. your blood ran cold as you slowly turned to look at her, your expression a mask of forced nonchalance. but she wasn’t fooled—her eyes widened in realization, shock flooding her features as she stared at you. “no way,” she breathed, a little too loud for comfort. her eyes darted around the room, but most of the other students were too engrossed in their own conversations to notice. she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “with who?”

you slapped her arm lightly, more out of habit than actual reprimand, and opened your mouth to answer. but before you could get a word out, the door to the classroom creaked open. the sudden silence that fell over the room was deafening, everyone’s attention snapping to the front as the principal stepped inside. he was a tall, stern-looking man with graying hair and sharp eyes, the kind of person who commanded respect without having to say much. he cleared his throat, and the last of the murmurs died away as he addressed the class.

“i’m sure most of you are aware by now that mister im has decided to leave us,” the principal began, his voice measured and calm. “but i wanted to personally introduce you all to your new english and philosophy professor.” there was a pause as he turned to the door, gesturing for the man outside to step in. the classroom was so quiet that you could hear the faint rustle of papers, the shifting of feet—everyone waiting with bated breath for the new teacher to make his entrance. and then he stepped in.

the world seemed to slow down as your eyes locked onto the man walking through the door. everything else fell away—the murmurs of the students, the sound of the clock ticking on the wall, even the very breath in your lungs—all of it disappeared as your gaze fixed on him. it was him. the man you had spent the night with, the one whose name you had whispered in the dim light of the private room just hours before. and now, here he was, standing in front of you as your new professor.

namjoon—no, professor kim namjoon—mister kim? whatever he was going to be called from that point on, froze in his tracks, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on you. for a moment, he looked just as shocked as you felt, his gaze narrowing slightly as if trying to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. but there was no mistaking it—you were as real as they came, sitting there with wide eyes and a racing heart, just as he was standing there, trying to process the impossibility of the situation.

the principal, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air, turned to namjoon, his voice breaking the silence. “is everything okay?” namjoon blinked, snapping out of whatever thoughts had been running through his mind. he cleared his throat, his expression smoothing into something more composed, though you could see the faint tension in his jaw. “yes, everything’s fine,” he replied, his voice steady, but you could hear the slight edge to it, the barely perceptible waver that only someone who knew him—or had spent the night with him—might notice.

he turned back to the class, his gaze sweeping over the rows of students, but his eyes remained firmly on you as he introduced himself. “i’m professor kim namjoon,” he said, his voice carrying through the room with a quiet authority. “i’ll be your new english and philosophy instructor.” you were stunned into silence, your mind reeling as you tried to process what was happening. the man who had been a nameless stranger just hours before was now your professor, standing there in front of the entire class, his attention seemingly focused on you alone.

there was a brief moment where you thought you might faint, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a lead blanket. but then namjoon’s gaze softened, just slightly, and you saw something there—recognition, yes, but also something else. a flicker of concern, perhaps, or maybe just a shared understanding of the gravity of the situation. and then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the calm, composed demeanor of a professor addressing his class. he began speaking again, introducing the syllabus and his expectations for the course, but you barely heard a word of it. all you could focus on was the fact that your night of recklessness had followed you here, into the one place you had thought was safe, and there was no escaping it now.

as he continued to speak, you forced yourself to sit up straighter, to adopt the same mask of composure he had. but inside, you were anything but calm. your mind was racing, your thoughts tangled in a web of confusion and disbelief. heewon nudged you, her eyes wide as she glanced between you and namjoon, clearly sensing something was off but not daring to ask. soobin, for once, was silent, his usual teasing smirk replaced by a look of genuine concern.

but none of it mattered. not really. because as namjoon’s gaze flickered back to you, just for a moment, you knew that it was far from over. the connection you had felt the night before was still there, humming beneath the surface, and there was no telling where it might lead—or what it might cost you. the bell rang, signaling the start of class, but for you, it felt like the beginning of something else entirely.

namjoon had composed himself almost too well for someone who had just discovered an unexpected connection in his classroom. his voice was steady, professional, as he launched into the introduction of the day's topic—a deep dive into existential philosophy, a subject that would set the tone for the entire semester. his words flowed with an easy confidence, drawing the attention of the entire class, but your mind was a whirlwind, struggling to keep up with the reality of the situation. as he spoke, you found yourself stealing glances at him, trying to reconcile the man who stood before you now with the one you had been so intimately close to just hours ago. every time his eyes drifted toward you, your gaze would dart away, your heart beating too fast, too loud.

just as you were beginning to gather your thoughts, namjoon posed a question to the class, inviting anyone to share what they knew about existentialism. before you could react, heewon’s hand shot up beside you. “oh, (y/n) knows all about that,” she announced, her voice light with an undercurrent of mischief. she shot you a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised as if daring you to deny it.

you turned to face her, your eyes pleading, practically begging her to drop it. but she was never one to back down from a moment like this, especially when she sensed there was more to the story. your warning gaze seemed to only fuel her amusement. namjoon’s eyes flicked from heewon to you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “is that so?” he asked, his tone carrying a playful edge that only you seemed to notice. “i figured you’d know it. you probably know most of the plan and program.”

his words hung in the air, the double meaning not lost on you. there was an almost imperceptible pause before he continued, his gaze locked onto yours. “why don’t you tell us what you know?” you swallowed hard, your mind racing to find an answer, any answer. but all you could think about was the night before—the way his voice had sounded in your ear, the warmth of his skin against yours. the memories clouded your thoughts, making it impossible to focus on the question he’d asked.

you opened your mouth, but no words came out. the silence stretched on, heavy and awkward, until soobin nudged you gently from the other side. his elbow digging into your ribs jolted you back to reality, and you forced yourself to speak. “sartre believed that existence precedes essence,” you began, your voice quieter than usual, barely above a whisper. “it means that we're born without purpose, and it’s our responsibility to give our lives meaning through our actions.”

namjoon’s smile widened, a look of approval crossing his face. “outstanding,” he said, his tone genuine, almost too warm. he paused for a moment, his gaze softening as he asked, “what’s your name?” the question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were silent again, unable to form a response. it was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, the classroom and the other students fading into the background. your mouth opened, but no sound came out, the weight of his gaze rendering you speechless.

another nudge from soobin brought you back to the present. you blinked, realizing that you had to respond. “it’s (y/n) (l/n),” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper. namjoon nodded, a hint of something unreadable in his expression as he repeated your name, letting it linger in the air. “(y/n),” he said softly, almost like he was testing how it felt on his tongue. “thank you for sharing.”

you could feel heewon’s eyes on you, a mixture of curiosity and realization dawning on her face. she wasn’t a fool—she had seen the way you had reacted, the way namjoon had looked at you, and it didn’t take long for her to start putting the pieces together. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about what she thought, not when all you could focus on was him. he continued with the lecture, but you hardly heard a word of it. every time he turned back to the class, your gaze would drop to your desk, your heart thudding in your chest. the tension in the room was palpable, and you could tell that soobin and heewon were both aware of it, even if they didn’t fully understand why.

after what felt like an eternity, namjoon began handing out sheets of paper, instructing the class to spend the next fifteen minutes writing an essay on the topic he had introduced. you barely registered the words, your mind still caught up in the swirl of emotions from earlier. when he reached your desk, he paused, his movements slower, more deliberate. as he set the paper down in front of you, his hand brushed against your fingers, the contact brief but electric. you looked up at him, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. his eyes locked onto yours, and you saw something in them—a flicker of desire, maybe, or perhaps just a shared acknowledgment of the impossible situation you both found yourselves in.

he took his bottom lip between his teeth, a small, almost imperceptible gesture that sent a shiver down your spine. the air between you crackled with tension, so thick that you could almost taste it. namjoon didn’t miss the look in your eyes, nor did he miss the way your thighs clenched together involuntarily at the sight of him. his gaze dropped for just a second before he looked back at you, his expression unreadable but intense.

heewon and soobin exchanged a worried look, sensing that something was off but unsure of what to make of it. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. all that mattered was the man standing in front of you, the man who had somehow become both a stranger and something more in the span of just one night. namjoon lingered for a moment longer before moving on to the next student, but the heat of his touch stayed with you, lingering on your skin long after he had stepped away. you stared down at the blank sheet of paper in front of you, your mind a chaotic mess of thoughts and emotions, wondering how you were supposed to focus on anything else when the only thing you could think about was him.

you stared at the blank sheet of paper for what felt like forever, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess. the memory of Namjoon’s touch lingered on your skin, his presence looming over you despite him moving on to the next student. every word you tried to write felt forced, disjointed, as if your mind was too occupied with the events of the night before to form a coherent sentence. but you pushed through, forcing yourself to focus, to string together an essay that would meet namjoon’s expectations—or at least not embarrass yourself in front of him. you could feel his eyes on you occasionally as he walked around the room, checking on the other students, and every time, it made your heart race and your fingers tremble.

finally, you managed to write something—an essay that was far from your best work, but at least it was done. the bell rang, its sharp sound jolting you out of your thoughts. you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, relief washing over you as namjoon dismissed the class with a curt nod. the scraping of chairs and the shuffling of feet filled the room as everyone stood up and turned in their papers. you gathered your things slowly, hoping to blend in with the crowd, to escape without another encounter with him. as you moved toward the front to turn in your essay, soobin and heewon caught your attention.

“we’ll wait outside for you,” soobin said, a smirk playing on his lips as if he knew something you didn’t. your eyes pleaded with him, silently begging him not to leave you alone in this classroom. but it was too late; they were already heading out the door, leaving you and namjoon as the last ones in the room. you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, but you kept your eyes down, refusing to meet it. you set your paper on his desk, trying to make a quick exit.

but just as you reached the door, his voice stopped you. “i didn’t know you went to college here.” you froze, every muscle in your body tensing at his words. you slowly turned around, forcing yourself to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. “i didn’t know you worked here,” you replied, your voice barely steady.

the silence that followed was thick with tension, the air heavy with everything that was left unsaid. you could see the conflict in his eyes, the same uncertainty that mirrored your own. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the situation pressing down on you both. then he cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the silence like a knife. his gaze hardened, the warmth from earlier replaced with something colder, more distant. “please only refer to me as your professor from now on,” he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, the finality of them sinking in. it felt like your heart was physically breaking, the pain sharp and immediate. you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out, the lump in your throat making it impossible to speak. he paused, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he continued. “pretend like anything we had didn’t happen, for our sake.”

you nodded, the motion stiff and mechanical, even as the nausea churned in your stomach. it felt like the ground was slipping out from under you, like you were free-falling and there was nothing to catch you. but you forced a small, tight-lipped smile, doing your best to hide the turmoil inside. “see you next period, professor kim,” you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly. without waiting for a response, you turned and walked out of the room, your legs feeling like they were made of lead. every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his words pressing down on you. as you pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway, the noise and bustle of the other students barely registered.

all you could think about was the way he had looked at you, the coldness in his eyes, and the realization that whatever connection you had felt the night before was now nothing but a distant memory. you could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the memory of his voice in your ear, but it all felt so far away now, like a dream that had ended too soon. heewon and soobin were waiting for you just outside the classroom, their expressions shifting from playful to concerned the moment they saw you. heewon opened her mouth to say something, but you shook your head, silently begging her not to ask. you couldn’t talk about it, not now—not when everything felt so raw, so real.

the day felt like a blur as you made your way through the bustling hallways, trying to shake off the weight of the morning’s events. you met up with soobin and heewon during your free period, desperate for some semblance of normalcy. the café in the student center was a welcome escape, its warm lighting and soft chatter offering a brief respite from the chaos in your mind. you slid into a booth with them, the leather seats creaking under the weight of your exhaustion. you barely registered the vibrant colors and bustling activity around you, too preoccupied with the events of the morning.

“so,” soobin said, leaning in with an inquisitive look. “what the hell happened between you and professor kim?” you took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. with a heavy sigh, you began recounting the events of the previous night—everything from the club, the fleeting connection with namjoon, to the morning’s abrupt encounter in class. your friends listened in stunned silence, their eyes widening with each detail.

when you finished, soobin’s jaw dropped, his eyes darting between you and heewon. “i didn’t expect that,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. heewon, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with excitement. “you’re kidding me,” she said, her eyes shining with admiration. “he’s like, the hottest professor ever. you did good, really good.”

you managed a weak smile at her enthusiasm, feeling a twinge of warmth despite the tumult inside. as you looked around, your gaze fell upon namjoon again, this time surrounded by a swarm of female students. they clustered around him, offering water and engaging in casual conversation. his earlier gaze had been replaced by a smile that was charming but distant, his attention firmly on his admirers. “guess you aren’t his only fan,” soobin remarked dryly, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.

you turned back to your friends, trying to mask the tightness in your chest. “i don’t care,” you said, your voice carrying a trace of frustration. “i’m not allowed to care.” heewon placed a reassuring hand on your arm, her eyes softening with sympathy. “look on the bright side,” she said gently. “you got over your ex, if anything. and maybe, in some weird way, this is a chance to start fresh.”

her words were meant to be comforting, but they only served to remind you of the painful truth. the breakup with your ex had left you vulnerable and searching for validation, and namjoon’s presence had complicated everything in ways you hadn’t anticipated. but you nodded, appreciating her attempt to offer perspective. you managed a grateful smile, the gesture feeling heavy but sincere. as you sipped your coffee, the bitter taste seemed to mirror the complexity of your emotions. the conversation drifted, and you tried to focus on the mundane topics your friends brought up, but your thoughts kept returning to namjoon.

the next day unfolded with a disorienting sense of déjà vu, as if you were trapped in a cycle you couldn’t escape. the english period began with a heaviness in your chest, a reminder of the previous day’s awkward encounter with namjoon. his presence was now a constant, uncomfortable weight, and you braced yourself for another session of tense interactions. he entered the classroom, his authoritative stride commanding immediate attention. he took his place at the front, his gaze scanning the room with a sharpness that made your skin prickle. the air seemed charged with unspoken tension as he began his lesson, his voice smooth but carrying an edge.

throughout the class, it became increasingly clear that namjoon was deliberately targeting you. his questions were relentless, designed to probe and unsettle. his piercing eyes would lock onto you as he asked complex questions about the texts you’d studied. “so,” he said, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of challenge, “can you tell me how socrates’ concept of virtue contrasts with plato’s theory of forms?” you stumbled over your answer, your mind racing to piece together a coherent response. “um, socrates—he believed that virtue was a form of knowledge, right? and plato, well, he thought virtue was tied to the ideal forms?”

namjoon clicked his tongue disapprovingly, the sound echoing through the classroom. “not quite. socrates did indeed view virtue as a form of knowledge, but plato’s theory of forms goes beyond that, focusing on the ideal forms as the true reality of virtue.” the click of his tongue felt like a stinging reprimand, and you could feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. from behind, soobin offered a comforting wink, his eyes twinkling with mischief. you smiled back, grateful for his support, even if you didn’t fully understand his intentions.

as namjoon moved through the rows, he handed back the essays with a stoic expression. when he reached your table, he paused, his eyes scanning your paper. “you can do better,” he said, despite the high mark you’d received. his voice was flat, dismissive, and it stung more than the failing grade could have.

soobin leaned over as his eyes raked over the positive mark on your paper, a smirk playing on his lips. he whispered, “congratulations,” before wrapping his arms around your neck in a gesture that surprised you. he pressed a light kiss to your cheek, the touch warm and reassuring. “well done,” he added, his voice low and almost conspiratorial. you leaned into his embrace, finding solace in the brief moment of affection. it was partly for show, a subtle defiance in the face of namjoon’s scrutiny, but it felt genuine enough to offer a small comfort. as he pulled away, you couldn’t help but notice namjoon’s eyes flicking toward you, his expression unreadable but his demeanor tense.

the moment was shattered when soobin dropped his pencil, its clatter startlingly loud in the quiet classroom. he turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes and said, “could you get that for me?” you nodded, bending over to retrieve the pencil. the motion was unavoidably revealing, your short skirt riding up just enough to provide a provocative view. you could feel namjoon’s gaze on you, intense and almost overwhelming. as you picked up the pencil, you glanced up to see soobin’s eyes fixed on you, his gaze deliberate and knowing.

you handed the pencil back to him, who responded with a smirk, “thank you, sweetheart.” namjoon’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he watched the interaction. his knuckles whitened around the stack of papers in his hand, the sheets crumpling under the pressure of his grip. the sight of soobin’s gaze on you seemed to inflame his irritation, and he struggled to maintain his composure. the tension broke when he suddenly snapped, “pop quiz.”

the sharpness of his command cut through the room, drawing startled gasps from the students. you looked back to see soobin’s smirk widening, a silent acknowledgment of the provocation. you couldn’t help but return his smirk, feeling a mix of amusement and defiance. as he began distributing the quiz papers, the atmosphere in the room shifted. the playful energy between you and soobin contrasted sharply with namjoon’s stern demeanor.

the bell's chime reverberated through the classroom, signaling the end of the period. as students shuffled to their feet, handing in their quizzes with murmurs of relief, you lingered behind, finalizing your answers and tapping the pencil against the paper. you were the last to submit your quiz once again, and as you made your way to the front, you glanced at the clock, calculating how much time you had before your next class.

with your quiz in hand, you approached namjoon's desk, determined to leave the room as quickly as possible. however, as you turned to head for the door, namjoon's voice stopped you in your tracks. “come here,” he commanded, his tone firm yet laden with an undercurrent of something else. your stomach tightened at the sound of his voice. “is everything okay, professor kim?” you asked, your voice steady despite the flutter of anxiety in your chest.

namjoon's posture stiffened, a subtle shift in his demeanor that you noticed immediately. he adjusted himself in his chair, spreading his legs slightly. as you met his gaze, your eyes flickered momentarily to the front of his pants. specifically, the painfully visible tent in his pants that had been rightfully covered by his desk. now, you were able to get a clear view of it and, fuck, was it obvious. the sight was unsettling, a realization that you forced yourself to ignore.

he leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race. “did you enjoy the show you put on today?” he asked, his voice low and carrying an edge of challenge. you struggled to maintain composure. “i have no idea what you're talking about,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady and focused. your gaze danced around the room, avoiding the direction of his gaze.

his expression hardened slightly. without breaking eye contact, he reached for a stapler on his desk and tossed it lightly in front of you. “pick it up for me,” he instructed, his tone carrying a hushed command. you swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his command. his voice seemed to reverberate through you, causing an involuntary clenching in your thighs. you turned around and bent over to retrieve the stapler, your skirt rising above your hips with the motion. the fabric brushed against your legs as you reached for the stapler, the movement eliciting a sharp intake of breath from namjoon.

as you stood up and placed the stapler back on his desk, you tried to keep your gaze forward. namjoon’s eyes followed you, and you could sense the tension in the air thickening. “come here,” he murmured again, his voice softer but still carrying the same underlying authority. you hesitated, fighting the urge to defy him. but the knowledge that resistance was futile made you comply. you approached him, feeling his gaze on you as you moved closer. when you were within arm’s reach, he reached out and drew you gently into his lap, his grip firm yet careful.

you could feel it, the clothed tent in his pants pressing into the bare flesh of your thigh, it sent goosebumps all arouns your skin. his lips brushed against the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “are you happy knowing that the boys are getting off to this ass of yours?” he asked, his voice a dark purr against your skin. you tried to muster a response, a smirk curling on your lips as you said, “yeah, the boys are real nice to me.” the words felt hollow, a weak attempt to mask your discomfort.

namjoon chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck. his hand pressed against you, and you could feel the firmness of his body beneath you. “you don’t need them,” he said, his voice dropping to a deeper, more possessive tone. “you need a man.” your breath caught in your throat, the situation spiraling beyond your control.

his hand slid up to cup your breast, squeezing it gently through your shirt. the fabric was thin, offering no real barrier to his touch. your nipples tightened, and you gasped. “is this what you want?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the peak. “to be manhandled by some immature college boys?” his other hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling your face towards his. his lips captured yours in a bruising kiss, one that was as much about power as it was passion. your body responded instinctively, arching into him. his tongue pushed into your mouth, and you could taste the mint from his gum, a stark contrast to the earthy scent of his cologne.

his hand moved from your neck to the hem of your shirt, sliding it up to expose your bare skin. his teeth grazed your bottom lip before he pulled away, leaving you panting. “now, let’s see how wet you get when you’re being punished by your professor,” he said, his eyes gleaming with a dark amusement. before you could protest, his hand slid down to cup your sex through your panties, his fingers moving in slow circles. his touch was deliberate, almost cruel in its precision. the fabric of your panties was drenched, and you could feel the heat of your arousal spreading. “you’re so fucking dirty,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “gonna pay for teasing me like that.”

his hand withdrew, and before you could react, his palm connected with your ass in a sharp spank. the sting of pain shot through you, but instead of anger, you felt a pulse of desire. the room around you spun, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. “is that what you wanted?” he asked, his voice mocking. “to be used like this?”

you didn’t answer, but your silence was answer enough. namjoon chuckled again, his hand moving to your other cheek. this time, the spank was harder, and the sound echoed through the empty classroom. you gasped, your legs trembling, but your pussy clenched around his fingers. “yes, professor,” you murmured, the words slipping out despite your attempt to remain defiant.

his hand slid into your panties, his fingers pushing inside you without preamble. you were so wet, so ready, and his touch sent waves of pleasure through your body. his thumb circled your clit, and you moaned, unable to hold back. “that’s it,” he whispered, his voice low and encouraging. “tell me how much you like it when i spank you, and maybe i’ll let you cum on my dick.”

his other hand moved to the zipper of his pants, freeing his thick, hard cock. it sprang out, and you couldn’t help but stare at it, the size of it both terrifying and exhilarating. “you want this, don’t you?” he asked, his voice a gruff challenge. “you wanna be fucked by your professor, right here, where everyone can see?”

you nodded, unable to speak, your body betraying your every thought. namjoon leaned back in his chair, pulling you onto his desk. the cold wood was a shock against your skin, but the heat of his body washed over you as he stepped closer. his pants fell to the floor, and he positioned himself between your legs. “beg for it,” he demanded, his eyes boring into yours. your voice was shaky as you whispered, “please, professor kim, fuck me.” the words were barely out of your mouth when he pushed into you, filling you completely. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that made your vision swim. his hips began to move, a steady, punishing rhythm that had you gripping the edge of the desk for dear life.

each thrust was accompanied by a smack on your ass, the sting mixing with the ache in your pussy. “you’re mine,” he growled, his voice harsh with need. “no one else gets to see you like this, no one else gets to touch you like this.” his words were a blend of assertion and question, and you nodded, your eyes glazed with lust. your silence happened to be a grave mistake, and you realized it the minute he delivered another harsh slap to your ass.

“use your fucking words,” he snarled in your ear, hips pressed against your flesh. you could only whimper, his balls pressed against your soaking slit. but he didn't move, he was gonna make you work for it. “what happens to bad girls?” you gritted your teeth and forced out a whisper, “they get punished, professor kim.”

his hand squeezed your ass hard before delivering another spank, the sting turning into a warm buzz that spread through your body. he chuckled darkly, pleased with your response. “that’s right,” he said, his voice gruff and animalistic. “and what happens when bad girls get punished?” you took a deep breath, trying to keep the tremble from your voice. “they get fucked, professor kim.”

that was all the encouragement he needed. namjoon’s cock slammed into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin punctuating the silence of the classroom. he fucked you hard and fast, his hips pistoning against you with a ferocity that was both terrifying and exhilarating. your legs were shaking, and your knuckles were white from gripping the edge of the desk, but you didn’t care. you were lost in the feeling of him inside you, claiming you in a way that no one else ever had.

his hand moved from your ass to your neck, his fingers wrapping around it in a grip that was tight but not painful. he squeezed slightly, the pressure sending a jolt of arousal through you. his eyes bore into yours, and you could see the hunger in them, the need to dominate and control. “you’re mine, aren’t you?” he said, his voice a low growl.

you nodded, unable to form words. your breath was coming in ragged gasps, and your pussy was clenching around his cock, begging for release. another spank, another squeeze of your neck, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of climax. “say it,” he demanded, his voice harsh. “say you’re mine, and i’ll let you cum.”

“i’m yours, professor kim,” you choked out, the words a desperate plea.

his grip tightened, and he slammed into you one last time, his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. you screamed as you came, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. namjoon’s eyes never left yours, his expression a mix of triumph and possessiveness. he waited, letting you ride out the waves of pleasure before he began to move again, his thrusts growing faster and more erratic. you could feel his release building, his cock swelling inside you. he was close, and the thought of him filling you up with his cum made your pussy clench even tighter. “fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunted, his voice strained. “i’m gonna fill you up, fuck. i’m gonna mark you as mine.”

you could feel your own orgasm building again, a second wave crashing into you as his words sent a fresh surge of arousal through your body. he leaned over, his teeth scraping along your neck as he reached down to pinch your clit. the combination of pain and pleasure was too much, and you came again, your body shaking violently. he grunted, his hips jerking as he released deep inside you. he held you there, his cock buried to the hilt, his grip on your neck unyielding. “you’re mine now,” he murmured, his voice a mix of satisfaction and possession. “no one else will ever make you feel like this again.”

you couldn’t argue with him, not when his cum was still pulsing inside you, not when his scent was all over your body. you were his, and as much as you hated to admit it, the thought thrilled you. his hand moved from your neck to your hair, his grip gentle as he pulled you closer, kissing you deeply. his tongue invaded your mouth, tasting the remnants of your orgasm, and you kissed him back with a passion that matched his own.

the room was spinning, and your heart was racing, but all you could think about was how much you wanted this to never end. how much you wanted to be claimed by him, over and over again. finally, he pulled away, his cock slipping out of you with a wet sound that seemed to echo through the room. he tucked himself back into his pants, his expression unreadable. “now, get out of here before someone sees you like this,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper.

you nodded, your legs unsteady as you slid off the desk. your panties were a ruined mess, so you left them where they lay. your skirt was hiked up around your waist, and your shirt was askew, but you didn’t bother to fix it. you could feel his cum dripping down your thighs, a sticky reminder of what had just happened. you stumbled out of the classroom, the door clicking shut behind you. the hallway was empty, the only sound the echo of your heels against the tiles. your mind was racing, trying to process the intensity of what had just occurred. you hadn’t meant for it to go that far, but the power dynamics had overtaken you both.

as you made your way to the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes on you, his hand on your neck, his cock inside you. your body was still singing with the aftershocks of pleasure, and the sting of his spanks lingered, a sweet reminder of his dominance. once inside the stall, you leaned against the cool metal, trying to catch your breath. your pussy was sore, but the ache was a delicious one, a reminder of his brutal possession. you cleaned up as best as you could, trying to erase the evidence of your transgression. when you stepped out, you took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

you checked the mirror, fixing your makeup and smoothing your hair. your eyes were wild, your cheeks flushed. you really looked like you’d just been fucked by your professor, and that thought alone sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. you left the bathroom, heading to your next class, your mind racing with thoughts of namjoon. what had just happened between you? was it a one-time thing, or was this the start of something darker, something more intense? you couldn’t stop thinking about him, his voice, his touch, his cock. the way he’d claimed you, the way you’d begged for it. it was wrong, so wrong, but you craved it.

the rest of the day was a blur, your thoughts consumed by the illicit encounter. when you saw him in the hallways, his eyes would briefly meet yours, a smoldering heat passing between you that no one else could see. the tension was palpable, a silent promise of more to come. by the time you reached the evening, you were on edge, desperate for a release that only he could provide. you knew you had to see him again, to find out where this was going, to let him take you apart and put you back together in whatever twisted way he saw fit.

the next day, namjoon was crueler than ever. the moment you walked into the classroom, you felt the shift in his demeanor, an icy coldness that sent a shiver down your spine. his eyes seemed to follow your every move, sharp and unforgiving, as if waiting for you to slip up.

“miss (l/n),” he drawled, barely five minutes into the lecture, “do you even know what the word ‘competence’ means? because, frankly, i’m starting to doubt it.” his words were laced with venom, each syllable landing like a physical blow. you felt your heart sink, the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck as all eyes turned to you. your mouth opened to respond, but the words caught in your throat, your voice betraying you in the moment you needed it most.

“answer me,” he demanded, his tone brooking no argument. “i do,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, but it was clear that your confidence had shattered.

he scoffed, a cold, mocking sound that made you flinch. “then perhaps you should start showing it. this is a university, not a daycare. i expect more from my students.” the classroom was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. you could feel the stares of your classmates, could hear the unspoken judgment in the air, and it made your stomach churn. namjoon’s relentless criticism continued throughout the class, his every word designed to tear you down, to make you feel small and insignificant.

“is that really the best you can do?” he sneered at one point, after you had answered another one of his questions with trembling uncertainty. his eyes narrowed, and you could see the disdain written all over his face. “how disappointing.” your patience was wearing thin, the fragile hold you had on your emotions slipping with each cruel remark. you wanted to scream, to tell him to stop, to ask him why he was being so unbearably harsh. but you couldn’t. the words refused to come, lodged in your throat like a stone.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, the class drew to a close. as soon as namjoon dismissed everyone, you gathered your things and bolted from the room, your vision blurred with unshed tears. you could hear the murmur of voices behind you, the curious whispers of your classmates, but you didn’t care. all you wanted was to get away. you didn’t stop until you reached the empty locker room, the door slamming shut behind you with a deafening echo. the second you were alone, the tears you had been holding back spilled over, your body shaking with the force of your sobs.

“how could he be so bipolar?” you choked out between gasping breaths, your voice thick with hurt and confusion. it was as if he had two completely different personalities, one moment kind and almost gentle, the next vicious and unrelenting. it was too much. the sound of approaching footsteps cut through your thoughts, startling you. you quickly wiped at your eyes, trying in vain to compose yourself, but it was too late. the door creaked open, and soobin stepped inside, his expression filled with concern as he saw you huddled on the floor.

“(y/n)?” he called softly, his voice laced with worry. without waiting for an answer, he hurried over to you, crouching down by your side. “what happened? why are you crying?” you tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken sob. soobin’s face softened, and he reached out to pull you into his arms, his embrace warm and comforting.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, his hand gently rubbing your back in soothing circles. “it’s gonna be okay. just breathe.” for a moment, you let yourself melt into his embrace, the warmth of his arms and the softness of his voice soothing your frazzled nerves. but eventually, you pulled back enough to look up at him, your eyes red and puffy from crying.

“it’s namjoon, you saw it,” you finally managed to say, your voice trembling. “he’s just, he’s being so awful, and i don’t understand why.” soobin’s expression darkened at the mention of namjoon, his jaw clenching slightly, but he quickly masked it with a soft, reassuring smile. “he’s being an ass,” he agreed, his voice firm with conviction. “you don’t deserve that, you need to stop running to him.”

his words struck a chord deep within you, and you nodded, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. “you’re right,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “but i don’t know how to stop.” his gaze softened, and he reached up to gently brush a strand of hair out of your face, his touch tender. “you’ll figure it out,” he said quietly, his tone full of quiet confidence. “and until you do, i’ll be here for you.”

a small, shaky smile tugged at the corners of your lips, the warmth of his words seeping into the cracks that namjoon’s cruelty had left behind. “thank you, soo,” you whispered, your voice thick with gratitude. for a moment, the two of you just sat there, lost in each other’s eyes. then, before you could fully process what was happening, he leaned in and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to your lips.

it was so quick, so unexpected, that you barely had time to react before he was pulling back, his eyes wide with panic. “i’m so sorry,” he stammered, his voice filled with regret. “i didn’t mean to—” but you didn’t let him finish. you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, and kissed him back. this time, it was slower, deeper, a silent reassurance that he hadn’t made a mistake. when you finally pulled away, you could see the relief in soobin’s eyes, and it made your heart swell with affection. “you didn’t make a mistake,” you whispered, your voice still shaky but filled with sincerity.

soobin searched your eyes for a moment, looking for confirmation, before his arms tightened around you. the kiss grew more urgent, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting of mint and something uniquely him. your hands roamed over his back, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt, and you moaned softly, the heat between you growing with every passing second. the locker room was suddenly too small, too confining, and you needed more.

without breaking the kiss, you reached down and began to unbutton his shirt, feeling the smooth fabric give way beneath your trembling fingers. his hands mirrored yours, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin of your stomach, sending shivers down your spine. as his shirt fell open, you gasped, taking in the sight of his broad chest, the tattoos that danced across his skin like secrets waiting to be uncovered. you ran your fingers over the ink, tracing the lines as you explored him, and he groaned, his hands finding their way to the hem of your shirt.

you pulled back just long enough to let him lift it over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. your bra followed shortly after, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of your exposed breasts. without a word, he leaned down and captured one in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as you arched your back, a gasp escaping your lips. the pleasure was intense, a stark contrast to the pain namjoon’s words had brought you just moments ago. soobin’s touch was gentle, reverent, a stark reminder of the way you deserved to be treated.

his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples as he sucked and bit at them, making you whimper. you could feel yourself growing wetter, the ache between your legs becoming almost unbearable. he must have noticed too, because his hand began to drift lower, slipping under your little skirt and finding your panties already drenched for him. you moaned into his mouth, your legs parting slightly to give him better access.

his fingers slid over the fabric, teasing you, making you squirm with need. then, with a wicked grin, he pulled them aside and plunged two fingers into you, making you gasp. his strokes were slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your reactions, learning what made you moan, what made your eyes roll back in pleasure. you clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

his other hand reached up to cradle your face, his thumb wiping away the tears that had dried on your cheeks. “you’re so beautiful, (y/n),” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent waves of pleasure through your body. “so perfect, so responsive. i want to make you feel good, really good.” and with that, he kissed you again, his tongue delving deep as his fingers picked up the pace, filling you up and stroking that spot inside you that no one else seemed to know existed.

you could feel yourself getting closer, your breath hitching in your chest, your body tightening around his fingers. “soobin,” you moaned, his name a desperate plea on your lips. “yes, baby, come for me,” he whispered, his voice full of desire, and with that, you shattered. your orgasm hit you like a wave, leaving you trembling and gasping for air, your legs giving out beneath you. he caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he held you up, his kisses turning gentle and soothing.

as you came down from the high, you became aware of the sound of the locker room door opening and closing, the muffled sounds of someone walking down the hall. soobin’s eyes widened in panic, his hand still buried in your panties, his fingers coated in your arousal. “shit, we can’t get caught,” he hissed, pulling away and hastily buttoning his shirt. you nodded, fumbling to put yourself back together, your heart racing.

you looked around, your eyes landing on a shower stall in the corner, and an idea formed in your mind. “quick, in there,” you urged, pushing him towards it. he looked confused for a moment before understanding dawned, and he grinned, pulling you in after him. the sound of the shower turning on masked the sound of your breathing as you kissed him again, more urgently this time. his hand found its way back to your panties, his touch no longer gentle but demanding, and you could feel his cock, hard and insistent, pressing against your thigh. you reached down to stroke him through his pants, feeling the length and thickness of him, making you even more eager. he groaned into your mouth, his hips bucking against your hand.

his own need was clear, and you knew what you had to do. you sank to your knees, pulling his pants down to reveal his erection, standing proud and thick. without hesitation, you took him into your mouth, your eyes never leaving his as you began to suck. his moans grew louder, his hands tangling in your hair as you worked him with your mouth, eager to bring him the same pleasure he had given you. his taste was new, but familiar in a way that made your stomach flip. you could feel his cock swell even more, and you knew he was close. his grip on your hair tightened, his hips thrusting gently, and you took it as a sign to speed up, to swallow him down deeper. and just as the footsteps grew closer, he came, his release hot and salty on your tongue.

you swallowed, licking him clean as you stood up, your own arousal pulsing between your legs. he pulled you close again, kissing you deeply, his hands roaming over your body. “i want you, (y/n),” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “i want all of you, right here, right now.” and before you could respond, he was lifting you up, setting you on the bench and peeling your panties off, leaving you bare and exposed.

his cock was still hard, and he positioned himself at your entrance, his tip nudging against your wetness. you could feel the size of him, the way he stretched you open even though he hadn't even slid in yet. you desperately tried not to think about namjoon, to focus on the comfort soobin was offering as a friend. his eyes searched yours for consent, and with a nod, you gave it. he pushed in, slow and gentle, filling you completely. you moaned out his name, the sound echoing off the tiles. it was unlike anything you had ever felt before, his girth stretching you in a way that was both painful and exquisite. he didn't stop, though, continuing to move at a pace that was just right, building the tension until you felt like you might come apart at the seams.

his hands cupped your breasts, squeezing and kneading as he thrust into you, his eyes never leaving yours. you could see the passion in them, the way he was losing himself in the moment, and it made you feel alive, wanted. “you're so wet,” he grunted, his voice strained with effort. “so perfect.”

his words were like a balm to your soul, the praise you had been craving, the gentle touch you hadn't realized you needed. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him to go deeper. “yes,” you murmured, your voice a whisper. “yes, fuck, soo.” his rhythm grew more erratic, his breathing ragged, and you knew he was close. your own orgasm was building, the pressure inside you threatening to burst. “you're gonna cum for me,” he panted, his voice low and commanding. “gonna cum so hard.”

his words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you screamed out his name. he followed shortly after, his release hot and powerful, filling you up without any barrier. the feeling was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and fear that only added to the intensity of the moment.

as you both came down from the high, panting and trying to catch your breath, you realized what you had done. the comfort sex had turned into something much more intimate, something that would change everything between you. but for now, you pushed those thoughts aside, basking in the warmth of his embrace as the water from the shower washed away the evidence of your shared secret.

his forehead rested against yours, his eyes filled with a tenderness that was new to you. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle. you nodded, your chest heaving with each breath. “yes,” you whispered, feeling a strange mix of emotions. “i'm okay.”

you didn't know how to explain that it was more than just the physical release that had made you feel better. it was the connection, the understanding, the gentle way he had taken care of you when you felt so broken. you knew that this moment would be something you would cherish, something that would sustain you through the storm that was namjoon's cruelty.

but you also knew that you couldn't keep running to soobin every time namjoon hurt you. you had to find a way to stand on your own two feet, to face the demons that were holding you hostage. but for now, in the warmth of the shower, with soobin's arms around you, you allowed yourself to just be. to feel alive and desired, if only for a little while longer.

you could feel the pulse of his cock still inside you, a strangled moan passing your lips as you felt him grow hard inside your pussy, your eyes rolling back at the feeling of him, so lewd and filthy for your cunt, a smirk playing on his face as he began to tilt his hips upward, the overwhelming sensation bringing tears to his eyes. “you really gonna fuck me again?” you practically purred, nails scratching at his chest as his pace began to quicken.

“i have to, you're still dripping for me,” he almost whined, the feeling of your juices drenching his dick just too intense. you pulled him in closer, saving the second blissful sensation of him pulling your cunt apart as he continued to pump his dick into you. you were both unaware of just how loud you were being, as much as you were of the nearby presence, who had been listening to every word with a look of utter anger on his face.

namjoon had been on his way to grab something from his office when he heard the locker room door slam, and the sound of your sobs had drawn him in. he had been torn between leaving and walking in, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him. and now, as he heard the sound of soobin's body slapping against yours, as he heard the two of you gasp and moan, his anger grew. he felt like he had been stabbed in the back, the betrayal a cold, sharp pain in his chest.

his hand was clenched into a fist, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from storming in and tearing the two of you apart. instead, he leaned against the wall, listening as soobin whispered sweet nothings into your ear, as he praised your body and made you feel good about yourself. the irony of the situation was not lost on him; the one person who had been so cruel to you was now being the one to console you in the most intimate way possible.

his mind raced with thoughts of what he should do, but in the end, he decided to stay put. he would let this play out, let soobin have his moment of victory, and then he would deal with it. but for now, he had to listen to the sound of your pleasure, the sound of what he had wanted to be his, being given to someone else. and it made his blood boil.

the following day, tension hung heavy in the air, a storm brewing in namjoon's chest as he awaited your arrival. the echoes of what he overheard between you and soobin replayed in his mind, each word twisting the knife of jealousy deeper into his heart. the anger was sharp, intense, and the moment you stepped into the classroom, he felt his blood begin to boil.

you entered the room with a sense of calm, your steps measured and your expression serene. it was a visible contrast to the way namjoon’s heart raced and his jaw clenched in a desperate attempt to maintain his composure. as the lesson began, he made it his personal mission to nail you into the ground with questions, to strip away that calm exterior and expose whatever emotions lay beneath. “miss (y/n),” he began, his voice cutting through the classroom like a blade, “perhaps you can explain the concept of friedrich nietzsche's ‘übermensch’ to the class?”

the question was pointed, meant to trip you up, to make you falter. but to his astonishment, you didn’t miss a beat.

“the ‘übermensch’ is a concept in nietzsche’s philosophy that refers to someone who has transcended the limitations of conventional morality and societal norms to create and live by their own values,” you replied, your voice steady, almost indifferent. “it’s a cornerstone of his idea of life-affirmation, where one embraces their existence fully and creates meaning in a world that might otherwise seem meaningless.”

namjoon’s eyes narrowed, but he wasn’t done yet. “and what about the eternal recurrence? how does that concept tie into the idea of the ‘übermensch’?”

“the eternal recurrence is the idea that life, in all its events, could potentially repeat itself infinitely,” you answered, still without hesitation. “for nietzsche, the ‘übermensch’ is someone who could embrace this concept, who would live their life in such a way that they’d be willing to relive it over and over again. it’s about living with such purpose and strength that one would welcome even the most painful experiences.” namjoon’s jaw tightened, a muscle in his cheek ticking as he fired question after question at you, trying to find a chink in your armor. but you got all of them right, each answer delivered with precision and clarity. and what made his blood boil even more was that you never once glanced at him. not even for a second.

it was as if he didn’t exist to you, and that realization twisted his gut into knots. the way you didn’t acknowledge his presence felt like a slap in the face. he could feel his anger simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over. but what pushed him closer to the edge was the way you looked at soobin. he noticed it—the way your eyes softened when you glanced at him, the way your lips curved into a genuine smile when you laughed at something he said. the sight made something inside namjoon snap. he could feel the pencil in his hand crack under the pressure of his grip, the wood splintering, but you didn’t even notice.

as the bell rang, signaling the end of class, namjoon watched you closely. everyone else filtered out of the room, but you lingered, packing your things with that same maddening calm. when the last student left, his resolve crumbled. “(y/n),” he called out softly, his voice a mere whisper of the authority it usually held. you paused, glancing up from your bag. “yes, professor kim?”

there was a sting in the formality of your response, a distance that hadn’t been there before. it made his heart constrict painfully. he swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. “please, stop calling me that,” he said, his voice betraying a hint of desperation. you tilted your head slightly, the smallest hint of confusion crossing your features. “but that’s what you asked me to call you,” you replied, your tone even, devoid of the warmth he had once taken for granted.

he felt the sting of his own words being thrown back at him. it was true; he had been the one to demand that distance, to keep you at arm’s length. and now he was paying the price. as you turned to leave, something in him snapped. “i’m sorry,” he blurted out, the words spilling from his lips before he could stop them. you froze, your hand stilling on the strap of your bag. slowly, you turned back to face him. “sorry for what?”

“for everything,” he said, his voice thick with regret. he hesitated, the weight of his confession pressing down on him, but he knew he had to say it. “i fell for you the minute i saw you, you know? you looked so out of place in the club, and it drew me to you. but when i realized you were my student, it pissed me off. it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” your gaze softened, the hard edges of your expression melting away as you looked at him. “how do you think i felt?” you asked, your voice gentle, understanding.

namjoon sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “i know i’ve been an asshole, (y/n),” he admitted, his voice rough with self-loathing. “but i can’t keep playing this game. it’s tearing me apart.”

you didn’t respond immediately, the silence between you stretching out, heavy with unspoken words. you turned to leave once more, but before you could take another step, namjoon moved. he closed the distance between you in an instant, his arms wrapping around you from behind, pulling you against his chest. “please, don’t go,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the intensity of his emotions.

“namjoon,” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. “you have to stop. you’ll get fired if anyone finds out.”

“i don’t care,” he murmured, his grip tightening as if he was afraid you’d slip away. “i don’t care if it means i get to be with you.”

you stood there, wrapped in his arms, the weight of his words sinking in. It was a dangerous game the two of you were playing, one that could cost him everything. but in that moment, all you could think about was the way his heart beat against your back, strong and steady, grounding you in a world that suddenly felt like it was spinning out of control. as much as you wanted to fight it, as much as you knew the risks, there was a part of you that didn’t want to let go either. the part that had fallen for him too, despite everything, despite the pain and the confusion and the impossibility of it all.

“namjoon,” you whispered again, your voice barely audible, “what are we gonna do?”

he didn’t have an answer, not yet. all he knew was that he couldn’t let you go. not now. not when he had finally admitted the truth to himself. and as you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside the classroom seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a stolen moment that neither of you was ready to end.

✧.*

a/n: this was soo ass but some sweet soul wanted more joon content so i hope they see this and if they don't like it i will def do another one

[skatingbi]

So hear me out on my headcanon guys:

Sanji with heterochromia (i cant spell that fuckin word man..) where one eye is blue and another is brown. He always hides the blue eye.

The first one to notice is Zoro, who is immediantly like "holy shit youre eyes are pretty" and sanji is like "what the FUCK"

Actually fuck it im gonna write about this nobody can stop me.

Sometimes, on lonley nights in the gallery, when Sanji is busy prepping, he looks in the reflection of his knife. Underneath the frizzy mess of a fringe that is part of his hair reveals the blue eye he struggles looking at. He stares, scrutinizing that light blue in the gleam of his knife gripped tightly in his hand. He looks away to force his attention back on prep work. His hands are always slightly unsteady after those moments. He always ends up with a cut on his hand one way or another on those nights.

When Sanji was a kid, his brothers would use his heterochromia as a weapon against him. He was the freak with two colored eyes. They would say his blue eye was creepy, too. Not only was he weak but also too different to be called their brother.

When you're a kid, you take these insults to heart. Eventually, when you're barely into adulthood, they'll still plague you. They become a part of you, just like how Zeff's teachings became a part of Sanji.

Judge looked at his eyes with disgust masked by indifference. It was another reason for Sanji to assume why he was the failure. The outcast. The runt of the litter.

His mother had blue eyes. She always claimed Sanji got his blue eye from her because her father had heterochromia, too. That was the only time little Sanji felt normal. When she died, Sanji started to grow out his hair to hide the only thing he had left of her: her eyes.

Now, Sanji still hides her eyes from view. Realistically, Sanji is fully aware that none of the crew would give a rats ass what he looked like. Regardless, old habits die hard. He feels safe under the mask he made for himself. As he goes about preparing lunch, perhaps grilled sea king again with how luffy is always eager to fight those things, he lets his mind wander to his eyes more. While hands expertly move through his knife like an extension of his body, he thinks about the mess of blond hair that's always in the way. He'd never admit it out loud, but his hair actually bothers him. Since it started growing out, it gets everywhere; his mouth, in his eyes, and tangled in the buttons of his shirt. Is sanji happy with his longer hair? Absolutely. It's a nusiance to leave it down constantly, though.

As he's thinking this, he's blowing the fringe of hair covering his face out of the way every so often so it stops tickling his nose. He continues to evenly slice through a portion of sea king meat until somebody, Nami he realizes immediantly, speaks up.

"Do you need a hair tie, sanji?" Nami asks sweetly. Her smile is radiant, as always, while she looks up from the map shes been studying. Sanji didnt even realize Nami came in and made the kitchen table into a study until now, but he doesnt dwell on it. Nami is welcome in his kitchen, after all.

"Oh no, thank you, Nami-swan! I think I just need a haircut soon," Sanji lies as he's moving through the kitchen. He gives Nami a quick smile before turning back to the meat on the cutting board and avoids Nami's gaze under the disguise of being busy. His lie wasn't as believable as he wanted it to be, especially when he's stumbling over his words while he is usually eloquent with them towards Nami and Robin.

"But until then, you should take one! I probably have hundreds lying around my room anyways," She says. It's a peace offering designed to be in Sanji's language of communication. It secretly says he's getting that hairtie whether he wants it or not, and Sanji is weak enough to accept the offering. He takes the hair tie with a grateful smile, wrapping it around his wrist and going back to his current task. Nami and Sanji work in comfortable silence after that, but the hair tie weighs on his wrist like a weighted bracelet.

A few days pass by. Through every single one, he stares at the hair tie in the morning. He really should tie his hair back. It reaches his shoulders for gods sake, and it keeps getting in his mouth - but that small part of him that clings onto grief like its all that he knows refuses to. He doesn't think he can bring himself to share the only part of himself that he truly loves deep down. What if the crew really thinks it's weird? What if his brothers are right?

These what if's roam in the back of his mind. They lurk just beneath the surface like an unknown predator hidden in murky water. He ignores it along with the anxiety that crawls up his throat every time he looks at his wrist.

Then, a week passes by. Now he's in his kitchen making a simple breakfast for his nakama. Franky, in particular, will enjoy this since his tastes lie within American style food most of the time. He focuses on seasoning the eggs, some of them cooked differently to cater to everyone's tastes. While he goes through the familiar and therapeutic motions of cooking, the door opens to reveal an annoying head of mossy hair and the steady noise of three swords bumping each other at the hip.

" Oi, go to sleep in your own bunk. I dont need you stinkin' up my kitchen while im trying to work." He utters without looking up from the stove.

"Why can't I just sleep here shit cook?" Zoro grunts. Sanji hears him shuffle around on the gallery's couch behind him. He's probably lying down, or maybe he'll sleep sitting up again, or maybe he'll watch Sanji cook. That's the most irritating one, which usually ends up with them fighting out on the deck one way or another.

"Because youre fuckin' annoying, get out."

"The hell I am, I'm taking a nap here."

"Oh my - You know what?" Sanji whips around to glare at Zoro, making sure the knife he was using is now in his hand to point at the source of his ire, "Fine, but if I hear a single snore out of you I'm kicking you into the ocean!" He threatens and turns around to finish up with breakfast. By now, all he has left is pancakes. The batter was prepped earlier, so now it's just focusing on pouring evenly. It's task that's menial but still important to him regardless.

His hair is covering his face too much. He tries to shake his head to flip it to the side. It falls back to where it was before he can pick the bowl of batter back up. He brushes it over his shoulder, and it simply flows back over it. He blows his hair out of the way, a classic move, but not even that works and he's slamming the bowl down on the counter before he can even stop himself and walks away from his work to grab the hairtie from around his wrist. In a few fluid motions, he ties his hair back haphazardly into a poor attempt at a low bun, but it's out of his face, and now he can focus.

He's too deep in concentration to even remember that he has heterochromia in the first place. Cooking lowers his guard unlike anything else in the world. The gallery acts like a safe space and cooking is his comfort. He still forgets, too, while calling for Zoro to get his lazy ass up to help since he's decided to loiter in his kitchen.

"Hey moss, if you're gonna laze around my kitchen, set the table for me." His request demand is met with a middle finger, which Sanji gladly returns as he walks over to the couch to kick Zoro on the stomach. The half asleep annoyance is now suddenly alert and glares at Sanji for a moment before it's quickly replaced with a look Sanji has yet to add to his mental notes he likes to call "Marimo Dictionary". Zoro's eyebrows are slightly raised, and his eyes glitter with something Sanji rarely sees. He's never been able to place a name on that look. Now he's confused. "What? Dont give me that youre tired crap youre not fuckin 10." He says.

Zoro is still looking at him, though, and now Sanji looks back with confusion because what the fuck is he-

Oh. His eyes.

Shit.

Sanji rips the hairtie out of his hair at light speed, probably pulling a few strands out by accident in the process but he could honestly care less when theres something more important. Like whatever the fuck just happened.

Before he can turn away and go set the table himself to distance himself from the marimo, Zoro's hand moves suddenly to grab his wrist, stopping him from running away.

"Wait, wait, hold on," Zoro pleads. And what the fuck. Zoro has never said anything like that and its fucking with Sanji's head because what the fuck. "You...uh." He continues in his signature graceless way. "Your eyes..." He pauses after that, sitting up and looking at Sanji, but not just looking, he's looking.

"Marimo," Sanji's own voice is riddled with anxiety with how shaky it is now. "Let me go dumbass," He demands but it could have been mistaken for him begging with how much he's struggling to keep himself together.

He's anticipating the worst. He knows what he's expecting. Sanji has experienced it countless times before, and he's aware he will again right now while a pancake is probably burning on the pan for all he knows.

It doesnt.

Zoro is looking at him still, maintaining eye contact but also darting between both eyes. He's looking at him like those golden eyes are looking into his soul and its too much.

It's too much because Zoro's response is uncharacteristically soft in so many ways. Zoro speaks to him like he's speaking with reverence, "Your eyes are beautiful."

Sanji shatters on the gallery floor there. His soul is bare for Zoro to see suddenly and that terrifies Sanji. Nobody has ever told him he's beautiful. Especially his eyes. He yanks his wrist from Zoro's grasp and speed walks to the stove to turn it off and remove the burnt pancake from the pan. He doesnt respond. He cant, not when his heart flutters when it should have been anchored down by rejection.

Then, Sanji walks up to Zoro, grabs onto both his shoulders, pushes him out the gallery door with surprisingly little resistance, and slams it shut. He leans against the door, sliding down until he's sitting on the floor with his head tucked between his knees. His face is burning and his face is probably red like a tomato right now. He stares at the ground with wide eyes and a weirdly giddy feeling in his chest and stomach nearly akin to happiness but also dangerously close to feeling freaked the hell out.

"What the fuck."

[athenaswisdoms]

𝑩𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑫𝑰𝑪𝑻, 𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑮

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆

benedict bridgerton fanfiction (more chapters coming soon)

MASTERLIST

"...and as for Mister Benedict Bridgerton, one cannot be so sure. He has spent the last two seasons focusing on his artistic talents, according to the Viscountess Bridgerton. As the beginning of the season is upon us, there are countless young ladies and anxious mamas on the market for a handsome, and not to mention wealthy, eligible man of status. I will be keen to see if the second-eldest Bridgerton brother will follow in his older brother's footsteps of marriage. Dear reader, you shall be hearing from me."

I roll my eyes, tossing the most recent issue of Lady Whistledown onto the sofa beside me. I knew it was a waste of time, but I'd rather read it than allow my anxiety over the coming evening's ball to come to the surface.

Tonight was Lady Danbury's annual Four Seasons Ball; the first of the season. Not to mention that this was my debut into the eyes of the public in hopes to find a husband. At least that's what my mama liked to say. I more thought of it as a missed opportunity. A failure to indulge in an education and adventure. As much as my parents denied it, the search for marriage was an auction, and I was about to be led by the neck right into the ring.

Still lost in my worries, my maid, Clara, opened the door to the drawing room, startling me slightly.

"Sorry, Miss. I didn't mean to disturb you," she said formally, "but we must start preparing you for the ball."

I walked towards the door, sighing just quietly enough so that my father, looking over his business papers, wouldn't notice my dread. As soon as the door shut behind us, I looked to Clara and swore under my breath.

"My goodness, get that language out now because you'll need to be on your most 'ladylike' behavior for tonight," Clara joked.

Clara was just a few years older than I and we had developed a closer bond than my parents were aware of, and she had been consistently reassuring me for weeks that everything would be fine and to look for the positives. As much as I tried, all I could see was Clara striving to live vicariously through me, as I know all she had ever wanted was to fall in love. If we could switch places, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

After slipping on my gown overtop the numerous undergarments of frills and laces, I sat down in front of my vanity as Clara began on my hair.

"Love, once you arrive and get through the first dance you will feel much more comfortable. I assure you that all of the other young ladies are just as nervous," Clara comforted, " - and I'm sure some of the men are too."

I laughed, "I know, but I wish my mama and papa would've waited another year for my debut. I know that they support my studies and yearning for adventure, but I can't see why I must do this now."

"They only care for you and want the best life for you. I'm sure there's a man out there that will support your desires."

I shook my head slightly, thinking about the housewife I would be destined to become through the values of the men I know of.

"In our dreams, Clara."

. . .

The constant bumps of the carriage were the only thing keeping me steadily awake on the way to the ball. A coachman assisted me down the steps and I was forced to take it all in - the arched doorways underneath pillars atop a grand balcony, patios on either side, and tall windows that allowed light from inside to peek out from between the curtains.

The inside was stunning. Decorated to perfection with cascading carnations and crystal champagne glasses that reflect the candle light to allow the drink an even more golden essence. Priceless diamonds were cast upon the collarbones of young ladies, sparkling almost as much as their excited expressions. A shudder of hope ran through me, but only for a moment. Until the ribbon of a dance card was slipped over my gloved wrist by my mother. I looked down at the empty name slots, already plotting ways to circumvent the inevitable small-talk and stiff dances to come. Before I could become serious about a plan, Lord Clarke began to approach.

Lord Clarke shook my father's hand, then greeted me with a curt bow. I stood still until my mother reminded me to curtsey with a swat on the back of my arm. His name was promptly added to my dance card, reminding me of my previous plotting that I was becoming more serious about by the second. As I scanned the room for unwanted approaching Lords as well as a way out, I noticed the Bridgertons walk in the door to the ballroom. The new Viscountess Kathani Bridgerton on the arm of Anthony, Colin Bridgerton scanning the area, Eloise Bridgerton looking all but disgusted, and Benedict. I had practically forgotten about his presence in the Bridgerton family whatsoever until my Lady Whistledown endeavor this morning. He gave the impression that he preferred being out of the ton's line of sight. He didn't look ill at ease in any way as his other eligible siblings did - but instead, curious. I watched Benedict a moment longer before the orchestra began to play and I realized I must face my most dreaded moment of the last month: dancing.

Being the first name on my dance card, Lorde Clarke approached me once again. It's not that Lord Clarke wasn't a decent man. In fact he was just fine with his wealthy lineage, strong business, and perfectly acceptable character. He just wasn't what I was looking for. In fact I wasn't entirely sure what I was looking for. As soon as the dance began, I had suddenly forgotten my last five years of dance lessons; stepping on toes, falling out of rhythm, missing cues - it was dreadful. As soon as the dance ended I apologized to Lord Clarke for my clumsiness. Feeling overwhelmed, I scanned for the nearest hallway and hurried in its direction.

The dimly lit hallway was peaceful and quiet aside from the muffled music and chatter from the ballroom. I plopped down on the floor anything but gracefully, crossing my legs underneath my dress. I allowed myself a few deep breaths as I craned my neck to stare up at the patterned ceiling, counting the grooves of the decoration. The sound of footsteps broke my concentration and I attempted to pick myself up from the floor unnoticed.

"Oh, I'm sorry," a voice started. "No need to get up."

My gaze pierced through the soft lighting and into a pair of apologetic green eyes.

Benedict Bridgerton.

Despite his insists I still rose to my feet.

"Mister Bridgerton - sorry I-, uhm-," I stuttered.

"No, no. I had no intention of disturbing your peace, Miss... Jackson, yes?" he questioned.

"Yes, that's right. I only needed to get away for a moment," I explained.

Benedict walked towards me.

"I was doing the same. Since my brother, Colin, and I are the last unmarried and eligible Bridgerton brothers, we are being all but harassed by every eager mother here."

I laughed a bit more comfortably than I should have, but Benedict didn't seem to mind.

"I know Lady Danbury's home quite well as her and my mother have been close friends my whole life. I like to come look at the art she's collected over the years," he explained.

I hadn't even noticed the grand paintings on the walls until Benedict pointed it out. He was now stood next to me looking up at a large depiction of a Trojan battle. He continued to speak as he admired the painting.

"It was ridiculously difficult to get away from my family for a moment. Social events aren't really my scene, but I go to please them."

"I've been trying to convince my parents to let me wait another year to be out, but clearly my efforts were in vain," I replied.

Benedict pulled his eyes away from the artwork to look at me, his eyes studying my face.

"Are you uninterested in marriage?"

"No!" I exclaimed, blushing at my unintentional volume. "Sorry. No it's not that, it's just that I would rather have more time to live a more adventurous life. I wish for spontaneity and excitement before I devote myself to tending to a household and a family."

"Is that what you believe marriage to be? A never ending chore?" This was not an accusation, Benedict was genuinely curious.

"Isn't it?"

Before he could answer, the opening latch of a door sounded in the near distance. Neither of us had yet considered the scandal that would certainly emerge if the two of us were to be found alone and unsupervised, but our newfound commonalities felt so comfortable that the topic never came up.

"We should get back before..." I started.

Benedict cleared his throat, "Yes, that would probably be wise."

"Until we meet again, Miss Jackson. And we shall."

Benedict nodded a goodbye, making his way back into the ballroom.

[fresitalimonsandia]

ii. _sTART oVER

𝑳𝒂 𝑽𝒊𝒆 𝑬𝒏 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔

Word Count: 2.7k

pairing: ot8!ateez x fem!reader x ot8!stray kids

thriller & fantasy au (non kpop-idols au)

language: english

chapter summary: you had to reveal the dragon's secret to two complete strangers…

warnings: pregnancy, executions mentions, murders mentions, appearance of other idols as main characters

dividers by diviniyae

author's notes: I hope to publish the third chapter later.

La Vie en Rose Masterlist

taglist is open!

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Narrator’s POV

Dawn stretched across the radiant sky, announcing a new morning—a new day to remain standing. The 14 divisions of the kingdom were preparing to begin their daily activities. However, today there were other plans in motion; this would not be a routine day.

The Spring Harvest Festival. And no less important, the presentation of the 16 candidates to become the next king.

There were only 10 known species in the kingdom, some more privileged than others. If not for the Oracle, history would likely have done nothing but repeat itself—those favored ruling above the marginalized who longed for something better.

Various trials, challenges, and dilemmas would test each of the candidates, selected by their respective species. Chosen ones, considered capable of facing adversity and cruel destinies.

One king for so many creatures. A single individual meant to unite them all, regardless of where they came from or what they were told they were made for.

But just as there exists a “somewhat fair” method to choose a new ruler, there also exists the shadow—uncertainty, disillusionment, the fear that this competition might end up just like the one held 20 years ago.

Should that happen, the kingdom would fall, unraveling into chaos, misery, hatred, and resentment. Nothing and no one would be able to overcome the curses and fear that would shroud so many creatures.

This is the magical kingdom of Kixxuodo, the very name of which no one even dared to think about—wondering if it was closer to extinction than to any possible salvation.

The Harvest Festival left no one exempt from their duties—not even the king himself, of course. And yet, he would rather not be there locked in his office, buried beneath a mountain of documents, he could easily sign later on.

Right now, he was where he believed he truly belonged—out in the fields, among the crops. Feeling the earth slip through his calloused hands, just like the first time his father had taken him to work. Fields that remained steady and well cared for, thanks to the constant effort of his workers—a reflection that his reign as king had not gone unnoticed and had yet to show any major cracks or failures.

He only wished his father were here to witness the dedication and wise decisions he had made for the good of the kingdom.

After a while, as the king carefully furrowed the soil and made sure everything was in order, someone very admirable slowly approached, clearly proud of the king’s attitude.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t come to speak about that. His visit had nothing to do with praise—it carried bad news.

“How are you today, Your Majesty?”.

Despite the quiet arrival of the calm man the king admired so much, the king didn’t flinch. He paused his hard work, turned toward him, and the two shared a look of mutual admiration and warmth, recalling past moments together. Of course, the king was glad that his first encounter of the day was with his mentor.

“Everything’s going wonderfully so far, sir. It’s just that, you know, today is a special day—and the last place I want to be is in the office,”. He replied kindly, subtly hinting that he wasn’t in the mood to be burdened with official matters at the moment. Still, he knew that if Min Yoongi had gone through the trouble of tracking him down in the fields, it had to be something serious.

“I know I can’t ignore my responsibilities, so go ahead—tell me what brought you here.”.

Yoongi appreciated that the king didn’t ask in an annoyed tone. He tried not to show the worry on his face, not wanting to give away what troubled him… and what didn’t. Without further delay, he explained the situation.

“There are already riots in the streets, Your Majesty. People are starting to act out and cause chaos, just in case none of the candidates convince them. They’re afraid it’ll all happen again, just like twenty years ago. And that’s not all…”.

Kim Namjoon had only been a child when the previous competition took place. He doesn’t remember much about what happened. The only thing forever etched in his memory was how the winner’s father donated the throne to Namjoon’s father—and how his father then promised, before the entire kingdom, that his only son would one day be king.

He was not chosen, and thanks to Min Yoongi—a sorcerer with years of experience—he had a small sense that even the oracle had rejected him to some extent. Even so, that didn’t stop him from lifting the kingdom up and moving forward once he was crowned.

He wouldn’t lie—he disliked the idea of serving the kingdom for such a short time. But there was no room for protest. Rules were rules, and the protocol required the competition to take place this year to select a new leader. He, too, had doubts about this new competition—that, once again, it would lead to more destruction instead of unity. He understood his people better than anyone.

“…There are rumors about Park Jihyo’s release from the dungeon and her involvement as a mentor in the competition…”.

Namjoon raised his right hand, signaling that he wanted complete silence. Yoongi obeyed and watched closely as his pupil processed the information.

There was no need to explain the future of Kim Namjoon, the king, or his connection with the woman who was supposed to be queen twenty years ago—Park Jihyo. Everyone quickly understood that this would turn into a rivalry, especially with the crown slipping from Namjoon’s head in the near future.

After all, both Namjoon and his father had spared her life twice. When she was imprisoned for the murder of the five princes, both the Order of Angels and Demons had agreed to execute her. Namjoon’s father had the final say—and he rejected the sentence. There wasn’t enough evidence to convict Jihyo, and not even magic had been of any use. So they had to accept that the trial would be suspended for a few years and eventually reopened …to evaluate when Namjoon could take the throne. That’s right—his father had been fully committed to fulfilling his promise. When his son finally ascended to the throne, the request was reviewed once more—this time with even greater insistence. Namjoon also rejected it.

It turned out that Park Jihyo had confessed upon entering prison that someone had taken her child from her before the murders occurred—a child who was still a newborn. In fact, Jihyo hadn’t even been able to confirm whether it was a boy or a girl. She had vowed that if she made it out of the dungeon alive, she would search for her child and exact revenge on those who had rejected and harmed her little one.

Both Mr. Kim and the current king understood that feeling well. They, too, had lost someone. Though Namjoon was subtle about the subject, he had never rested—his search for his younger sister hadn’t stopped in the past twenty years.

Namjoon had only spared Jihyo so she could reunite with her child. He just hoped she wouldn’t be a problem during the competition.

The sixteen participants were allowed to choose their mentors. Naturally, it was suggested that former participants could be among them—or other significant figures.

As the king, Namjoon couldn’t be part of the competition, not even as a judge. But Park Jihyo could—and she had, in fact, been summoned. During the Harvest Festival, she would meet her chosen participant.

The king wasn’t going to be left behind—he needed a counterattack, and that would be his fiancée and her chosen one.

“Don’t worry, old man. I’ll send some of my men to keep the situation under control. We can’t let anyone ruin today’s plans.”.

This time, Namjoon showed real irritation. And as much as he wanted to keep working in the fields—which helped him manage his emotions—he had to return to the castle and handle everything.

Part of his frustration also stemmed from knowing that Yoongi was a very good friend of Jihyo. In fact, he was the one who would be picking her up upon her release from the dungeon. Yoongi wasn’t a man of one side—he was much more than that.

Yoongi maintained his composure, as he always did, understanding the anger—an anger that didn’t come from a king, but from a friend who felt betrayed for not being his mentor’s first choice.

He didn’t respond and simply took his leave. He still had to visit Jihyo’s mother first. This day was only just starting to get interesting.

You had been hiding for at least an hour and a half in the smallest chapel of the Angels. It turned out that the only missing piece to become a priestess was to register your pregnancy in the natality hall… and the only existing hall in the entire kingdom was located in the Angel zone.

It was a protocol that had been established many years ago. The current crown might revoke your attempt to become a priestess if you didn’t prove that the pregnancy by the dragon was real—you couldn’t really blame them. So the risk had to be taken: that the boy in charge of birth records would discover your not-so-hidden secret.

What you didn’t expect was for him to meet up with a friend—and that by accident, his presence would go unnoticed by you, ruining your caution and revealing, not to one, but to two people, that you were carrying in your small belly a possible destroyer of the kingdom.

It would be a lie if you said you weren't a little distracted by their beauty. It was easy to recognize that one was an angel and the other a sorcerer, and oh dear god, they were absolutely stunning. Not to mention their toned bodies—clearly a sign of excellent training and strength.

They quickly snapped you out of your daydream as they began to freak out a little. Words like protest, the crown being overthrown, and more began to fly around.

That didn’t come as a surprise—even if it had been a long time since you’d had social interactions. The ghosts had warned that these would be the most common reactions to expect upon revealing your pregnancy.

After two minutes—during which they completely ignored your presence—arguing about what to do with the situation (which at first seemed unrelated to them), they finally decided to leave you alone in one of the chapels in the Angel zone.

Both assured that no one else would come, since one of the sorcerers responsible for offering blessings that day was out of the kingdom, and apparently, he was the only one working there.

Your gaze wandered around the architecture: white marble covering every surface, making the place seem not just bright—but celestial. The light alone made it glow more intensely. Without it, the place would probably look desolate and sad.

Eventually, the waiting came to an end. Both boys entered silently through the beautiful glass door—you could swear they paused every few seconds to glance back and check if they were being followed.

The boy with chubby cheeks approached as soon as his eyes found you. He sat down on the bench beside you, and you waited to hear what he had to say.

Meanwhile, the angel remained standing in front of the two of you. This time, he had revealed his beautiful wings, which almost distracted you, but the other boy’s voice quickly pulled your attention back.

“This ring was forged a long time ago, with the purpose of revealing if a pregnant sorceress was carrying a dragon.”.

You hadn’t noticed that when he entered the chapel, his hand had been clenched into a fist—he had been hiding the ring.

At first glance, it looked cheap and simple. It seemed to be made of metal and merely painted to appear like silver. The only remarkable feature was the set of engraved symbols on the inside, which could only have been made by a sorcerer.

“If you put on the ring, and it burns, your pregnancy will be confirmed,”.

The beautiful angel assured this time. At least he wasn’t as hysterical as when you first appeared. So, you took it—you gently pulled the ring from the sorcerer’s hand, brushing against his skin for a few seconds.

And under their watchful eyes, you placed the ring on the ring finger of your left hand—only for it to begin incinerating. At first, fear struck you, expecting to feel pain, but instead, a wave of warmth spread through your entire body.

The ring vanished into your clothing, now reduced to ashes. So focused on the process, you forgot to observe their reactions.

They looked concerned, but rules were rules, and the angel had to proceed with registering the pregnancy. At that point, they didn’t seem to know what else to say—confirmation had just made you their future superior.

The angel left the chapel to retrieve the paperwork. It was only then that a couple of strange boxes nearby caught your attention, marked for delivery to the king’s castle as soon as possible.

“What are those boxes for?”.

you asked the boy with the adorable cheeks, raising your voice slightly. Luckily, your tone came across sweet and light rather than rude. He was still seated beside you, head bowed, clearly lost in thought—likely about what had just happened, given the slight frown on his face.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to call you ‘Priestess’ just yet, but since we’ll be seeing more of each other from now on, let me introduce myself—”.

His worried frown shifted into something more serious as he gently took your hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back with great delicacy.

You knew this was something sorcerers did to acknowledge a superior, though it would likely take time to get used to. Still, for a brief moment, your heart felt warm. You didn’t quite understand why—perhaps it was the dragon’s influence.

He let go of your hand and finally answered the question.

“My dear friend the angel and I are part of the competition. We’re participants, and those boxes are our belongings—we’ll be taking them to the castle.”.

You didn’t bother hiding your surprise. Your mouth formed a small “O,” and suddenly, everything began to make sense.

The dramatic reaction upon discovering the pregnancy, the sorcerer’s easy access to the infamous ring, the audacity to suggest something had to be done…

Okay, so your plan to be discreet had clearly failed—but not just a little. You had unknowingly revealed your secret to two participants in the very competition you would now oversee.

Your gaze remained fixed on the boy in disbelief until the angel returned, bringing everything needed.

You broke eye contact to receive the documents and pen to fill out the required information.

“I present myself before you, my lady. I am Bang Chan. The people of the angels have chosen me as a candidate to become king,” said the pale-skinned boy, bowing respectfully as you looked for a more comfortable place in the chapel to fill out the forms. You didn’t know the proper way to respond—maybe you’d learn tonight at the harvest festival. Still, there was no time to feel embarrassed, because the other boy stood up to do the same, though clearly without acknowledging you as future priestess.

“And I’m Jisung. I was selected among many sorcerers. I hope not to fail—even you—in this competition. Furthermore, I know it’s none of my business, my lady, but… are you from around here? I’ve never seen you before, and believe me, I know all the sorcerers—even the ones who haven’t yet been officially confirmed by the kingdom.”.

You were about to simply return the greeting and introduce yourself casually, but Jisung’s question threw you off completely.

How were you going to register yourself without linking back to your mother and brother? If possible, it would be best to hide that you even had a family—especially considering both were directly involved in the competition.

ongoing taglist: @hwangjoanna @juicyjaxxy

[final-fantasy-as-literature]

Final Fantasy VII and a Failure to Properly Analyze Japanese Media by English-Speakers

Light spoilers ahead without revealing deeper context.

One thing that always gets me about discussions of the Compilation of Final Fantasy VII is that they're kind of poorly Eurocentric, but I don't think that's entirely the fault of players and journalists. The original game itself came into being in one of those moments where Japanese media was looking both inward and outward while reflecting on what was becoming the economic stagnation of what would become known as "The Lost Decade." There was a lot of outrospection, looking at media from as far as Europe and North America, but a lot of analysis from without Japan often weakly frames that borrowing to the point that it makes the cultural context of where those borrowings might have come from disappear. That's what I mean by "poorly Eurocentric" - these analyses rightfully detect a borrowing, but fall apart because of a lack of curiosity into their depth, origin, and meaning within a Japanese context that fails to center that context as distinctly Japanese or even distinctly of Tokyo.

I have no ill-will towards this author nor do I have any ill-will towards his work, but M.J. Gallagher's Norse Myths That Inspired Final Fantasy VII is kind of a case-study in this. This is not a takedown, callout, or assault of Gallagher, but an example of what I'm talking about. While reading it, I was somewhat struck by a series of claims made that encapsulate this poor Eurocentrism:

Final Fantasy VII’s Nibelheim is largely derived from the primordial realm of mist, and its name is very deliberate. ‘Nibel’ is the word for ‘fog’ in the Romansch language of Switzerland, cognate with the German ‘Nebel’, both of which share a Proto-Germanic root with the Norse ‘nifl’. ‘Heim’, on the other hand, translates most commonly as ‘home’ or ‘home of’. It can therefore be deduced that where Niflheim is the Home of Primordial Mist, Nibelheim is the Home of Fog. Closely related in form to ‘mist’ or ‘fog’ is ‘cloud’. Given that the series’ lead protagonist is Cloud Strife, it becomes apparent that Nibelheim was named quite literally for being the home of Cloud.

This etymology has generated some confusion among fans over the years who believed it to have been drawn from Richard Wagner’s celebrated opera cycle Der Ring des Nibelungen, which itself was inspired by Nordic mythology and the Nibelungenlied, an epic Middle High German poem dating back around 800 years. The terms Nibelung (German) or Niflung (Norse) have been used in different ways over the centuries, most commonly referring to a noble family or to dwarfs, neither of which are heavily associated with Niflheim."

I first want to point out that there is no in-text citation of any of these claims when one might expect even a pop-history novel like this to, but that isn't entirely important - the first major claim, that Nibelheim is named for Cloud, comes from word association across four languages. It has to, as none of the sources in the bibliography associate Nifl with 'fog' or 'cloud.'

Japanese itself cannot easily evidence a difference between these words to lay a hidden significance for a speaker who understands all four mentioned languages after transliteration. ニヴルヘイム, ニフルヘイム, and ニブルヘイム are all ways that Niflheim may be written in Japanese and would have all likely to have been pronounced 'Niburuheimu' and transliterated as Niflheim or Nibelheim depending on context. To somebody not writing on an explcitly Norse context, any of these might be as or more likely to be transliterated as 'Nibelheim.'

Japanese has no distinction between 'v,' 'f,' and 'b' sounds from loan words in its native phonemic inventory, and writing Niflheim as ニヴルヘイム is something that would not have been common in the mid-'90s. This is something that would have only become more common later as academic translations of works like those of Snorri Sturluson became available. These translations, though, would not have become common until the early 2000s, and the standardization of loaned words like Niflheim is recent enough that most articles about Niflheim in Japanese mention or use more than one of these forms.

This brings me to the second major claim, that the association of Final Fantasy VII's Nibelheim with Wagner's is misplaced when it ought to be attributed to Norse myth through word association. This is, to me, a baffling assertion when taken in context of the Compilation or the greater Japanese cultural context.

Setting aside that Final Fantasy VII (1997) is a Wagnerian spectacle at heart, the events of the Nibelheim Incident are even more reminiscent of a borrowing of Der Ring des Nibelungen than they are of Norse myth that would have been largely unavailable to the developers and relegated to university libraries miles and miles from Tokyo.

What would not have been difficult to access for somebody in Tokyo in the '80s and '90s would be the first and following performances of Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen in Japan as part of the climax of the Opera Boom, mostly centering on Siegfried and Götterdämmerung after their initial performances at the Tokyo Nikikai Opera. Japan was, in part, going through a kind of Wagner mania at the time as Marumoto Takashi points out in his writings on opera in Japan. It wasn't interest in Norse and German mythology that exploded interest in Wagner in Japan, but interest in Wagner that exploded interest in Norse and German mythology.

Knowing this, it is hard not to see Cloud braving the fires of Nibelheim in order to be there for an unconscious Tifa as reflexive of Siegfried conquering his fear to reach the unconscious valkyrie Brünnhilde through the ring of fire surrounding her in Siegfried. With the added context of Final Fantasy VII Rebirth in 2024 having both Cloud brave literal rings of fire while fighting an enemy named "Custom Valkyrie" with a woman he is explicitly the bodyguard of and a reference to Wagner's Götterdämmerung in the Götterdämmerung accessory instead of to Ragnarok, it almost feels like a dismissal of Wagnerian connections without knowing the content of Der Ring des Nibelungen or Wagner's influence in Japan in the '80s and '90s. It even excludes other possible readings of the work, like in Loveless where Alphreid almost appears as a portmanteau of two central names in Der Ring des Nibelungen - Siegfried and Alberich.

That's what frustrates me about discussions on Final Fantasy VII and the Compilation at large. When you combine that poor Eurocentrism that fails to notice the context of Final Fantasy VII (1997) with a clinging to the words and stated intent of the author, you get readings that might be fun but miss a lot of really cool stuff. Yeah, it is cool to look at Norse mythology, but Final Fantasy VII was made in a context of Wagner mania and the popularity of Western opera in the face of economic stagnation that peaked in the same year as Final Fantasy VII's international release with the founding of the National Opera.

I didn't cite any source here because I'm used to Tumblr hating outside links, but Marumoto Takashi's English work comes up rather easily on even just a Google search, and I'm willing to hand out links if asked. Most everything else was just language and looking at the works cited in the text itself.

[roguishcat]

BG3 Fanfiction Masterlist

(Header and dividers by @saradika)

Mostly Astarion x female Tav or Astarion x my OC, although other characters do make appearances.

Read on AO3

Series

Conversations with a vampire

Summary: Astarion's eyes shot open and he scowled at the child crouched near him. This had to a trick. Because there was no way that a child dressed like a noble would be in a back alley behind the Flophouse at this time at night offering him salvation in the form of a potion of superior healing.

Humor/Friendship/Angst

Rating: Teen. Mild language, mentions of abuse in later chapters, canon compliant violence.

Setting: Set before the events of the game.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Art - chapter 5

Chasing perfection

Chasing perfection is not only impractical but mostly unattainable. Instead of boosting our achievements, it shrinks them. Why? Because when we aim too high, "failure" becomes the norm, chipping away at our self-confidence bit by bit. But then again, maybe perfection is overrated.

Humor/Angst/Romance

Rating: Mature. Mentions of abuse, violence, mature themes. Chapters with smut will be marked red.

Pairing: Astarion/(Fem)Tav

Setting: Act 1 and Act 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

One-shots

Clumsy - Pairing:Astarion x female Tav. Set in Act I, before Astarion confesses to being a vampire. Tav has always been a little clumsy, but it was nothing too inconvenient until Astarion came along. Since then, whenever Tav’s blood would spill, he would be there.

What books don't teach you (or how to date a wickedly charming vampire if all you know about dating is purely theoretical) - (MNDI, 18+) Unfortunately, having enough smutty fiction to sink a ship did not prepare you for dating (were you even dating?) Astarion. A shy/inexperienced Reader x Astarion fic where both do everything wrong but somehow end up getting it right. Set in Act II (before Astarion's confession).

A welcome distraction - Pairing:Astarion x female Tav. Set in Act II. Astarion was not nice. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning. But perhaps, given the right incentive, he could be persuaded to be nice to the one person who he felt deserved it most.

Honeycomb - Pairing:Astarion x female Tav. Set in the beggining of Act II. Astarion had a brilliant, fool-proof plan. And nothing, especially not a piece of honeycomb, would get in the way.

Yours, if you'll have me - Pairing: Astarion x female Tav. Set in Act II. Astarion found the letter on the ground between his tent and Gale’s earlier this morning. Not thinking much of it, Astarion swiped it, hoping to get a piece of juicy gossip. Gale having a secret admirer, how fun! He didn’t realise that the contents were meant for him. And from their leader, no less!

Fangs and Cheeks - 18+ MNDI Pairing: Astarion x female Reader. Set in Act III. Astarion is a ass man.

Upon reflection, I find you perfect - Pairing: Astarion x female Reader. Set post-game. You find a way for Astarion to see his reflection for the first time in over 200 years.

A sound judgement - Pairing: Astarion x female Reader. Magistrate Astarion AU (Elf Astarion, No Cazador). Astarion was bored and you were the only acceptable source of entertainment. Luckily for Astarion he was, in fact, the law and you had no choice but to obey him.

Astarion x my OCs

What happens at Sharess', stays at Sharess' - Pairing: Astarion x OC, Astarion x Cora. Set in Act III. Astarion knew that stubborn look. It meant that Cora had a plan and would stop at nothing to make it work. The thought both excited and unnerved him.

Other writers' OCs

A white lie - Pairing: Astarion x Sima. Set in Act III. Astarion could not remember being certain of anything in the past 200 years. But he knew without a slither of a doubt that he would do whatever it took to make sure that they were safe. For ever. For good.

Two-shots

Brunch - Pairing:Astarion x female Tav. AU two-shot (no Cazador, elf Astarion). Another, better emotionally equipped male would probably just ask Tav out. Like on an actual proper date at a nice venue rather than sticking to their monthly meeting for brunch as a pathetic excuse for spending time with her. But that was the crux of the problem. Astarion had absolutely zero clue as to how to be in a relationship.

Part of his plan - Pairing: Astarion x female Tav. Set in Act II, just after the tiefling party. Astarion was sure that being indispensable to Tav was the best way to secure his place by her side. And this is where his sewing skills would come in handy.

The best laid plans - Pairing: Astarion x female Tav. Set in Act II, just before Astarion's confession. Even the best laid plans may go wrong. Admittedly, Astarion's plan hadn't been that great to begin with.

Batstarion Week 2024

My headcanon is that spawn Astarion can turn into an adorable bat. Here are some drabbles exploring your and Astarion's life post-game for Batstarion Week 2024.

Batstarion Week 2024 - Day 1 - Falling asleep in unusual places

Batstarion Week 2024 -Day 2 - Cuteness aggression

Batstarion Week 2024 - Day 3 - High fashion

Batstarion Week 2024 - Day 4 - Cameo with another character

Batstarion Week 2024 - Day 5 - Feeding your Batstarion

Batstarion Week 2024 - Day 6 - Bat cuddles

Batstarion Week 2024 - Day 7 - Any prompt (Happily Ever After)

Augustarion 2024

Interconnected drabbles and one-shots celebrating our favourite rogue. Mostly reader (You) x Astarion.

Augustarion Day 1 – Strawberries 🍓 In which Astarion didn’t steal these for you, he just wanted a taste.

Augustarion Day 2 – Pool Party 🌊 In which Astarion shows you exactly why you shouldn't be insecure.

Augustarion Day 3 - Apron 18+ MNDI In which Astarion takes care of you. And I mean sexually.

Augustarion Day 4 - Mythologies In which your love isn't a cautionary tale.

Augustarion Day 6 - Cream In which Astarion complains that you have a hero complex.

Augustarion Day 7 - Underwear In which Astarion has been embroidering cheeky messages on your underwear in elvish.

Augustarion Day 14 - Protective In which Astarion is reminded that he is not alone.

Augustarion Day 15 - Shirt that goes hard In which a spell gone awry turns Astarion's shirt into an unusual, yet formidable weapon.

Augustarion Day 28 - DILF 18+ MNDI In which you won a bet and were granted a once in a lifetime opportunity - to see into your future.

Halsin

Good - Pairing: Halsin x female Reader (Durge). Set in Act III. Perhaps you wanting to be good started out as a way to get into Halsin's good books (and his pants). Yet, you find that you have come to actually like helping those you call friends. Perhaps being good becomes you after all.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9, @hellethil,

@khywren, @maeryls-journal, @larvasmoon, @xxnashiraxx

[asheyxash]

seventeen's love letter<3🩵🩷

as the title suggests, here's probably everything i've wanted to say to them for a while now, that is, if i'll ever be so lucky and be offered the chance to, and so i penned them all down, summarised and wrote my love letter as a carat, for seventeen. to think this was a project i have been working on since the start of the year makes me more than happy to know that it's finally come to live and that the world can see what i feel about my happy place, my comfort, my second home, seventeen. happy 10th anniversary seventeen!

dear seventeen, sometimes i wonder if the mirror ever shows you what we see—not just the reflection, but the radiance you’ve become. not just the fame, but the fire. because loving you has never been about the lights or stages. it’s been about the way you turned your ache into architecture—how you built something beautiful from the bones of every no, every not-yet, every why-you.

you didn’t debut under fireworks. you debuted under pressure—pressure that cracked bones and made stars from shards. you weren’t born into this industry; you bled into it, slow and unseen. you weren’t handed the world. you climbed, with dirt under your nails and dreams so loud, they echoed across empty venues and quiet comment sections. and still, you smiled. you always smiled.

"don't be afraid, the beginning is always the hardest," seungcheol once said, and god, you lived those words. we watched you carry each other—through exhaustion, grief, doubt. woozi wrote lullabies that made insomnia weep. hoshi danced like he was shaking off sorrow. seungkwan sang with a voice that remembered pain. jeonghan smiled like he knew it kept others alive. and dino—our youngest—stood tall in rooms that tried to shrink him. you all did.

there were nights when your only audience was each other. when you rehearsed until your knees forgot how to stand. when you gave everything, and the world gave back nothing. but you stayed. and in staying, you saved us.

you didn’t just perform. you bared your souls. you showed us that vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s resistance. “you’re not alone,” you told us in songs like “kidult,” “snap shoot,” “fallin’ flower,” “_world.” and we believed you. we still believe you.

each of you is a galaxy with its own gravity. choi seungcheol—you are not just a leader. you are a lighthouse carved from stormclouds, a compass that never demands to be followed but is trusted anyway. your strength isn’t in how loud you roar, but in how gently you hold others when the tide is too much. when you break, we don’t see failure—we see love that stayed too long in the fire just to keep others warm. yoon jeonghan—your mischief is a language of love. a quiet rebellion against the weight of the world. you play the role of the easy breeze, but we know you’ve carried typhoons in silence. your softness is not weakness—it’s precision. a quiet resilience that knows exactly when to bend and when to hold. hong joshua—your kindness has mass. it lingers like a hymn, like tea brewed for a weary soul. you are not loud, but the quiet you carry has gravity—gentle enough to heal, steady enough to stay. your voice is the kind of comfort people wait lifetimes for. wen junhui—you are the echo of moonlight on water—serene, but never still. you move in a rhythm that doesn’t beg for attention but commands it all the same. your presence is a sanctuary: understated, sacred, and infinite. kwon soonyoung—you are lightning in a boy’s body. joy bursting at the seams, stitched together with discipline and grief. you dance like survival, like someone who knows what it means to fall but chooses flight anyway. your passion isn’t loud—it’s seismic. it moves us without asking. jeon wonwoo—you are ink personified. quiet, but everywhere. the weight of your gaze, the poetry in your pauses—everything about you speaks in volumes the world often forgets how to hear. you make silence sound like something worth listening to. lee jihoon—you are the architect of emotion. you build symphonies from shadows, wrap melodies around memories, and offer them like small prayers. you are the storm behind the calm, the heart behind the harmony. your existence is proof that brilliance and burden often walk hand in hand. lee seokmin—you are the sunrise voice. laughter that splits the dark. you sing like it hurts to hold joy, but you do it anyway. your strength is golden—not because it's perfect, but because it never stops shining, even through the cracks. kim mingyu—you are the definition of contradiction turned masterpiece. built like a monument, but gentle as a bruised apple. you love in loud ways, in small details. and though the world calls you visuals, we see the boy who builds, fixes, breaks, and loves harder than anyone expects. xu minghao—you are elegance with an edge. a brushstroke in a world of noise. you carry peace like a sword, like armor. every movement you make is a sentence in a language the world doesn’t speak often enough: the language of presence, patience, power. boo seungkwan—you are raw heart. laughter with the taste of tears. you feel everything too much and still choose to share it with the world. your voice is a lifeboat. your grief, when it spills, becomes a mirror for our own. and still, you sing. god, you still sing. chwe vernon—you are a river in disguise. cool on the surface, but deep with thought. a quiet defiance, a subtle flame. you speak like someone who has seen the world and chosen softness anyway. there is poetry in your restraint, and rebellion in your calm. lee chan—you are the crescendo. the proof that growth is not just possible, but powerful. you carry the legacy of twelve brothers in your spine and still manage to be your own sun. your youth was responsibility, your joy—resilience. and you dance like you’ve finally made peace with the sky.

“i would sacrifice pieces of my flesh and still be considered selfish for not giving my bones.” that line echoes when i think of how you give, and give, and give—your time, your hearts, your health—and still worry it isn’t enough. but it is. god, it is.

loving you is watching people break and rebuild in real time. it’s seeing pain become poetry. it’s seeing laughter carved from ruins. it’s knowing that even if the world forgets, we won’t.

i’ve seen you tired but tender. hurting, but hopeful. you showed me that even when joy feels like a foreign dialect, we can learn to speak it again. that even cracked voices can sing. and laughter—uneven, bruised—can still be healing.

so thank you. for the mornings you didn’t want to get up, but did. for the nights you cried quietly, so we wouldn’t worry. for the times you said “i’m okay” when you weren’t, just to keep us safe. thank you for choosing music when it didn’t feel like it chose you.

you gave us more than songs. you gave us something to hold onto. something to become. because of you, we believe in beginnings again. always remember that, no one loves seventeen more than seventeen themselves.

you were never just an idol group. you were a lifeline. you are a lifeline.

you are the light in our dark, the moon to our starry night, the sun to our sky, and the whole earth in our universe. you are, and will always be seventeen, for the legacy you've started and will leave behind will never be replaced, changed, or accomplished again, because the thirteen of you are seventeen, and that itself is already a milestone set more important than a baby's first steps, an achievement reached higher than mount everest, and a feat no one else will be.

and rightfully so, i am endlessly, painfully, beautifully proud of you. not for your trophies. not for your awards. not for your endless nominations. but for your truth. the whole truth.

you were my beginning, but you will be at the ending too, no matter where it leads me, you, us, because we'll be on this journey together. always.

you will always be my comfort,

my happiness,

my home.

and with every breath in my chest, a carat who learned how to live again—because of you.

thank you, seventeen.

until the last say the name, seventeen will challenge eternity.

yours sincerely, from a carat watching from afar.

[thelivingfractal]

When true crime is framed as entertainment, it becomes detached from the reality of the events and people involved. Instead of encouraging deeper reflection on societal and systemic issues, it becomes a spectacle for consumption.

The crimes are seen as isolated, almost fictional stories, rather than being understood as manifestations of larger systemic problems within humanity.

By presenting crime as a unique, standalone event, true crime media ignores the fact that these actions often stem from systemic failures, such as:

• Inequality

• Mental health issues

• Marginalization

• Broken social or justice systems

Viewers are left entertained but not enlightened, unable to see the societal patterns and human dynamics that underlie criminal behavior.

Instead of using true crime to foster understanding, empathy, or critical thinking about humanity, the focus shifts to the shock factor and entertainment value. The perpetrators and victims become caricatures, stripped of their humanity.

When true crime is reduced to “content,” it reinforces a sense of otherness—that criminals are uniquely bad people, separate from society, rather than products of the same flawed systems we all live in.

This detachment prevents meaningful conversations about how to address the root causes of crime or reform the systems that perpetuate it.

Perpetrators of violent crimes often represent something outside the boundaries of normal human behavior. This can make them both terrifying and fascinating to people who want to understand what drives such extreme actions.

Society teaches us to fear and avoid such individuals, but some people are drawn to the “forbidden” nature of these figures, creating an air of mystique around them.

True crime media often portrays perpetrators in dramatic, larger-than-life ways. This can make them seem almost fictional or mythic, blurring the line between reality and fantasy.

True crime narratives often spend more time on the perpetrator than the victims or the systemic issues surrounding the crime. This creates a skewed focus where the criminal becomes the central “character.”

The media sometimes uses visuals, language, or editing styles that romanticize or glamorize perpetrators, consciously or unconsciously.

Many people in the true crime community feel like outsiders themselves. They may identify with the perpetrator’s sense of alienation, even if they don’t condone their actions.

Some people idealize perpetrators because they believe they can understand or redeem them, projecting their own feelings of compassion or need for connection onto the criminal.

When people consume media about criminals, they sometimes feel like they “know” them, especially if the content humanizes or personalizes the perpetrator (e.g., showing their childhood or struggles).

For some, this can blur boundaries, leading to infatuation or romantic feelings, especially if the criminal is portrayed as charismatic or “misunderstood.”

Some may admire the perpetrator’s ability to “defy” societal norms, even if in a destructive way, because it represents power or control they may feel they lack.

True crime media often ignores systemic issues like poverty, mental health, or social inequality, making perpetrators seem like isolated “evil geniuses” rather than products of a flawed system.

True crime often reduces perpetrators to simplistic labels like “evil,” “monster,” or “psychopath.” This ignores the nuances of their humanity, motivations, or the systemic conditions that contributed to their actions.

Depending on the narrative, perpetrators are either glorified (seen as clever or charismatic anti-heroes) or dehumanized (portrayed as irredeemable villains). Neither approach allows for a fuller understanding of who they are as people.

The narrative frequently strips victims of their agency, focusing more on their suffering than their humanity. This can inadvertently perpetuate the idea that they’re defined solely by the crime committed against them.

True crime sometimes capitalizes on the sensational aspects of a victim’s death rather than honoring their life, which can feel dehumanizing to their families and loved ones.

Complexity requires more time, thought, and care, which conflicts with the fast-paced, entertainment-driven nature of modern media.

[nekoooooo-p]

Hello! May i can ask 4 frei or charles (hello charlotte) like ur partner?, sorry my english is bad t_t

A/N: My English is not perfect either, haha, and of course you can! If your native language is Russian, I can translate, but only if Russian is the only other language I know... Also sorry for disappearing, I'm a little burned out.

Okay, let's go!

Warn: I cover up the holes in my ignorance of the canon with slight romance and OOC. I played Charlotte not so long ago, but I almost forgot some of the characters, and unfortunately Charlie n Frei is one of those characters...Please forgive me for this...

Hello Charlotte! Headcanons: Charles and Frei - your partners.

~Charles Eyler~

× Charles worries about you when you do something sloppy.

× He loves spending time with you.

× You communicate mainly on the Internet, but in reality you also know each other.

× He tries to protect you as much as possible if something happens, and if it doesn’t work out, he helps you psychologically and physically after the incident and apologizes very long and sadly.

× Perhaps he will write about you in his fanfic.

× Charles is a good listener.

× If he falls in love with you, he will try to do everything to make you feel good... even if he doesn’t succeed, know that he tried very hard.

× He will also torment himself for a long time about his failure, turning it over in his head and thinking about where he's fucked up. Please support him.

× In the same case of falling in love, he will be the first to suggest you run away. Anri will also receive an offer, but after you. But accepting his offer or refusing, like Anri, is your choice.

× He will reveal himself to you completely sooner or later.

× The tulpa treats you with aggression. Charles is incredibly irritated by this. Scarlett thinks that you are preventing Charles from concentrating on his studies and Mother.

× And frankly, she's right.

× Charlie is very shy to kiss you. Therefore, you will have to take the first step.

× He trusts you.

× He appreciates you.

× Please trust and appreciate him in return.

× You (don’t) want everything to be fine =), do you?

Dark lace dividers: prayr on Tumblr

pic from Tumblr: albedoxkeo

~Frei~

× If you mean Frei, then keep in mind that your subconscious itself gives the appearance of the Parasite.

× Who knows what he might look like in your head?

× Frei - a reflection of you from the inside. He is the truth. Horrible and rude in places.

× Parasites are basically sarcastic companions, aren't they? But if you were in harmony with yourself, it would be easier for you to bear it.

× Well.

× Frei.

× Your partner.

× Partner or partner?

.

.

.

× "I cleaned up your Library. Isn't your head clearer?"

× He doesn't care if the library suddenly looks creepy. This is your mind. It was important to him to clean up the mess, and if he exposed old wounds in your head... it's just you. You. The host of the parasite.

× "I came up with a new melody. Will you listen?"

× He started playing without your decision. As you can see, he doesn't care a bit.

× He often gives wise advice. It's worth listening to him. Now he is your subconscious.

× However, you don't have to listen to him. His job is to voice advice.

× He loves to play with your hair. If they are long. If it's short, he just combs your hair sometimes with a small comb. If they are very short, then he obviously doesn't do it. But he can pat you on the head.

× The more you communicate, the more you grow together and become one. Rotting.

× Speaking of how you could work as partners....

× He gives you advice and puts order in your head, dispelling fog and anxiety. And you follow his advice.

× By the way, having someone like Frei in your head is also very convenient because if you have an exam ahead, he will have time to sort out the memories you need. Convenient, isn't it?

× ...as ...partner.

× He's very tactile.

× Honestly, this is self-cest. Don't you think? Especially if he didn’t love you right away, having gotten into your head.

× However, he cares and appreciates you from the very beginning. Albeit from one’s own needs and benefits.

× He's cruel, but he does it for you. Revealing the rotten truth is better than always getting dust in your eyes, right?

× Despite his tactility, he only kissed you once or twice at best.

× You may have started to feel sleepy. How strange.

× He doesn't like being ignored. He will force you to pay attention to him.

× For example, he will scatter your thoughts so that your head is a mess, he will slip in incorrect memories and do all sorts of mischief, until you attack him in your sleep shouting “stop it!”

× He's not a Yandere. He simply hates being ignored. Therefore he will do it.

.

.

× ...Yandere Frei is a topic for a separate, albeit not large, post. (almost not a hint:D)

[animeomegas]

You saying that Neji is one of the most requested characters actually reminded me of an angst plot line I thought about a couple weeks ago.

I don’t usually think about Neji dying (because he shouldn’t have but that’s besides the point) but it does have really good angst potential.

I imagine an alpha who’s a bright person, kinda like Naruto but to a lesser degree and they have a huge crush on Neji. I’m talking ginormous crush on him. They meet Neji when they both enter the academy because they’re also a shinobi but they don’t interact with him very often because he’s Neji.

During the Chunin exams when Neji reveals what the Hyuga clan has done to him they make it their mission to help Neji get out of the clan. They go to see Neji after his match (they lost in the previous matches) to make sure he’s alright and then they promise to help him be free from his clan. Neji being Neji denies the alpha at first because he’s stubborn and doesn’t want the help but as they get older he can’t help but think about the promise the alpha made to him.

During the war the alpha almost dies and when Neji comes to check up in them they tell him that they refuse to die so easily because they made a promise to him and they intend to keep it for when the war is over. I like to think it would reflect when the alpha first made the promise to him with the alpha being hurt instead. Neji is the tiniest bit less stubborn and while he doesn’t directly accept the alpha’s words it’s clear by his body language that he is more accepting to the alpha now that he’s older. Then he dies :D

The alpha basically falls apart when he does. They feel like a failure, like an awful alpha, their chest hurts so much they feel like they’re dying. They don’t understand why it had to be Neji (I’d change his death to an accidental one honestly because his canon one is bad) he just wanted to be free and live how he wanted but instead his life got cut short at 18 with him still being a prisoner.

When the war ends the alpha can barely do anything. They can’t eat, can’t go anywhere, can’t get out of bed and can barely sleep because they see Neji is their dreams. In said dreams Neji often blames the poor alpha for not protecting him like they promised they would. Their friends come to see them to comfort them but it doesn’t work because they can’t bring Neji back to life. Their friends are super worried about them because it’s been almost 4 months and the alpha hasn’t had any improvement and just keeps drowning further and further into their grief.

I had 3 ideas for the ending 1 angst, 1 bittersweet, and 1 hopeful. One was that the alpha dies from the heartbreak of losing Neji. They weren’t mated but they loved Neji so much that they just couldn’t take it.

The second one is that the alpha decides to just give up and waste away. They’re friends stop them and get the alpha help but they will never be the same. Yes they have their friends with them but they don’t have Neji. They appreciate their friends but they just wanted to be with Neji again. The alpha keeps living as a husk of what they were before but at least they have their loved ones to help them.

The last one is that the alpha decides to live for Neji. To help make the change Neji wanted in the Hyuga clan. When Hinata becomes head they help her fight for the side branch members to be treated equally to main branch members and they adopt a child from the Hyuga clan. They don’t mate or court anyone else but they are content with their child and other loved ones.

Also Hinata treats them like family because I love found family and she knows how much the alpha loves Neji. She also is their biggest supporter both while they are grieving and after because I said so.

I swear this is the biggest idea I’ve had in a while. My brain has been legit empty ever since. Neji both fills my brain with many thoughts and empties it all the same. I wanted to make this into a story but seasonal depression hit hard so :\

This broke my heart in the best way, anon, thank you so much, but also how dare you 🤧 No thoughts, only Neji. Seasonal depression is rough, and I hope you're doing okay. If you do ever write this though, please tag me, I would love to read it, even if it would probably make me cry :(((

I adore the idea of the alpha dedicating their life to living in a way that honours Neji. They help fix the Hyuuga clan with Hinata, they adopt a Hyuuga orphan, they look after his old team and make sure all his friends are doing well. It's bittersweet, but 🥺