philophobia|(m)

Words: 7.4k

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Mature

Summary: Taehyung, a man, who swears he’ll never fall in love meets Y/N a hopeless romantic.

Warnings: Teasing, spitting, oral (f/receiving), fingering, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing ( lmao idk if thats a thing?), squirting, sexual intercourse, mention of homophobia. Topics of child neglecting, if this makes you uncomfortable pls don’t read :) minor character death

A/N: Taehyung is a bisexual king! Tell me what you peeps think, remember that comments motivate me to continue writing!!! This is my work, no reposting this and my other works on any other platforms.

Kim Taehyung was born December 30, 1995 his father left him when he was 11 years old that is when Taehyung realized that love never lasts. His mother pretended that his father never existed, she quickly hid the family photos away, along with covering his tomato garden with dirt. Taehyung wanted to ask where he went but stopped wondering when he heard a few of his classmates whispering that Taehyung’s dad left them for a young woman in her twenties. 

As Taehyung grew into his teenage years he would often get asked out by his classmates, he wouldn’t decline, accepting the dates to see if he can ever fall foolishly in love like his Mom once did. However, nothing ever happened, he would kiss them goodnight but won’t call them the next day. In high school he lost his virginity at a party, he wasn’t nervous, just did things he’s seen in filthy pornorgraphy. The very next day the girl spread the rumor that Taehyung was a sex god, that he probably had sex everyday with a different people. Was that a compliment? He remembered thinking to himself as he sat in the back of the classroom, feeling people secretly stare at him. 

That day he met Jimin. Jimin was a popular boy that everyone swoon over. Of course he had a girlfriend, they have been dating since middle school. The guys would gawk at her when she would wear a sports bra to track practice. Taehyung was in art class sketching an apple, Jimin came over and talked to him as if they were friends. It was nice, Taehyung listened to Jimin complain about his art. When class was over, Jimin asked Taehyung to hang out with him after school. When Taehyung sat on Jimin’s bed, he looked over on the desk and saw a picture of Jimin and his girlfriend. Right next to it was a picture of what he assumed was Jimin’s family. A Mom, Dad, an older brother, and Jimin. He turned his gaze back to Jimin...who was undressing in front of him. Jimin’s underwear was the only thing on, Taehyung didn’t expect him to have lean muscles and define abs. An hour later  they were both breathless, exhausted from the sex. 

“ I’m not gay.” Jimin tells Taehyung as he cleans himself with a rag. 

“ Okay.” Taehyung shrugs and pulls his pants up. He’s watched gay porn and straight porn before and got turned on by both of them, so it doesn’t come to much of a surprise that he enjoyed the sex with Jimin. 

*******

Taehyung watches from afar when Jimin kisses his girlfriend in the school halls, wondering if that’s love. The next few months, Taehyung and Jimin fool around more. Jimin would call Taehyung over, then they would fuck and they would both be on their way. There were never conversations or pillow talks, until right now.

“ I’m gay.” Jimin confesses to Taehyung. 

“Cool.” Taehyung shrugs, looking for his shoes. 

“ That’s all your gonna say?” Jimin rolls his eyes grabbing his t-shirt wiping the come on his stomach. 

“ I’m bisexual, happy?” Taehyung looks at his phone and notices a missed call from his mother. He tucks his phone away, “ Why are you still with her? Your girlfriend.” He finally asks the question he’s been meaning to ask since the beginning.

“ I love her and I don’t want to hurt her, but I can’t love her like that.” Jimin looks at the picture of them and flips it down, almost ashamed of how much of a coward he is. “ Plus my Dad would kill me if I told him I like men.” He throws his head back looking at the ceiling not wanting to cry his eyes out. 

Taehyung thinks love is complicated, he thinks people who are in love are selfish. They rather hurt themselves for the sake of love. It’s stupid he wants to tell Jimin that but he keeps quiet until Jimin looks at him with tears eyes. “ I don’t know what to say…”

“It’s fine...you don’t have to say anything just keep me company, yeah?” 

“ Okay,” Taehyung sits back on the bed watching but not really watching tv with Jimin. 

---

Taehyung’s mom was proud of him when he got accepted to a good college, she would brag to her friends and show pictures of his acceptance letters. Along with bragging how she raised Taehyung all by herself. Taehyung didn’t mind that he was in the spotlight, whatever made his mom happy he would comply with whatever she does. He was good with numbers so he was going to major in data analysis, he really wanted to major in art but his mom laughed in his face, telling him to be realistic. 

Taehyung is now in his third year of college, wanting to just graduate already, done with the shitload of classwork and long ass lectures. Just right now he just finished his homework that took him three hours. He’s about to call it a night until Jungkook barges in his room, yelling at him to get dressed for a party. Taehyung switches his dirty hoodie with a clean hoodie, opting out grey sweatpants with jeans. He keeps his glasses on, due to his eyes being tired and not wanting to irritate them with contacts. 

Jungkook hands Taehyung a drink, there’s obscene music, blunts being handed around, and people grinding on each other. “ When’s the last time you got laid?” Jungkook asked, as he took a gulp of his beer.

“ Last week...I think.” Taehyung searches through his mental sex list, but can’t seem to remember the girls face or name. He looks around and watches a couple argue with each other. The man rolls his eyes as the woman tries not to cry, the woman ends up leaving him and going upstairs.

“ Damn, lucky. I tried to hook up with this girl and she ended up leaving me hanging. Claimed that she’s not over her boyfriend, started crying on me when I was going down on her.” Jungkook cringes, sipping more alcohol. “ Be my wingman, yeah?” 

“ Sure,” Taehyung nods. Jungkook is talking to this pretty girl, and she laughs at every joke that Jungkook makes. Taehyung wasn’t even sure why he asked him to his wingman when Jungkook can easily get a girl to bed. Jungkook nods absentmindedly when Taehyung excuses himself, he wanders around the frat house looking at people getting wasted. Once he gets tired of it he goes upstairs, hoping to find solace in an empty room. He opens a bedroom door, and notices a girl with a pencil and notebook. “ My bad-,” Taehyung is about to close the door.

You look up from your sketchpad, you see a tall man with messy curls and glasses. “ You can stay,” you observe him, he looks like he was forced to come here. There’s no red solo cup in his hand, he looks like he hasn’t a good night's rest. Also why else would he look mindlessly into rooms, the bathroom doors have a handwritten sign stating ‘BATHROOM’, so he must be bored or something searching into bedrooms. “ Or don’t. I don’t care.” You watch him close the door, entering the room.

“ Is this your room?” Taehyung looks around the room, noticing posters of naked women and marvel posters. Weird combination he notes. Along with the dirty clothes scattered all over the floor. 

“ No,” you laugh. Shutting your notebook close, taking notice of his nice hands brushing his hair back. “ My friend’s room. I didn’t really feel like partying just decided to sketch,” you lift your pad up. He nods and sits on the bed.

“ Can I draw?” Taehyung points towards the sketchpad. He hasn’t drawn in months too busy in his schoolwork, his fingers would sometimes draw on foggy windows but nothing more. You nod tearing a piece of paper out and handing him a pencil, he thanks you. 

You were sneakily glancing at him, sketching him, his angular jaw, messing hair, uneven eyelid, long eyelashes. Getting lost at his elegant features, wondering if he knows how beautiful he looks. You shake your head for easily fawning over this man. His hands are even beautiful, they travel across the paper gracefully with each stroke. You turn your eyes away when he makes eye contact with you, cheeks getting warm. “ What’s your name?” You ask while shading the contours of his cheeks.

“ Taehyung.” He folded his paper into a small square, putting it into his pocket. “ Yours?”

“ Y/N,” you smile.

---

“ Did you get laid yesterday night?” Jungkook is shirtless with scratch marks behind his back, there’s a couple of hickies on his neck.

Taehyung takes a sip of his tea before answering, “No, just talking to some girl. Her name is Y/N.” 

“ Y/N. She’s a nice girl. One time I forgot a scantron for class and she gave me one. She’s also friends with Namjoon.” Jungkook pours himself coffee sitting next to Taehyung. “ Are you interested in her?”

Taehyung would be lying if said he wasn’t interested in you. When he entered the room he thought you were pretty and had a kind smile. “ Maybe...why?” 

“ It’s best if you don’t try to get at her. Y/N looks the type to fall in love easily.” Jungkook sighs cracking his back on the back of the chair, groaning at his achy body. Taehyung wonders how can someone fall in love easily, he’s not one to believe in love at first sight or any kind of stuff in that realm. “ Alright, I’m gonna take a quick shower and then we can leave.” 

Taehyung and Jungkook are at the library studying or trying to study, Jungkook is texting someone the whole time instead of studying for his macroeconimics test. While Taehyung is playing video games on his phone. “ Hey guys! Didn’t know you actually study Jungkook,” Namjoon jokes, ruffling Jungkook’s hair. Jungkook rolls his eyes pushing his hand off his head mumbling curse words at him. Taehyung looks to the side of Namjoon and notices you laughing as the scene unfolds. You’re carrying ice americanos and Jungkook immediately takes it out of the carrier, thanking you. 

You look at Taehyung placing one in front of him, “ I didn’t know what kind of coffee you liked.” Taehyung is wearing similar clothing to what he wore at the party, mostly muted green colors and his circle glasses, his hair is pushed back with a headband. He looks surprised to see you, but nevertheless thanks you for the coffee. The conversations between Jungkook and Namjoon get more serious when they finally decide to study for their materials. You try to study but you want to talk to Taehyung wanting to get to know him more, you nudge your foot against his leg. He looks up, looking at you in question, you nod your head towards the exit entrance, he nods slowly unsure to what you're up to but following your lead. Jungkook and Namjoon are too invested in their studying to see you and Taehyung leave. “ Do you wanna go to my apartment?”

“ Sure,” Taehyung shrugs. The apartment was small and kind of messy, you try to hurry up and toss some of the paintbrushes in the sink. There’s water cups filled with murky colors, and paint marks on the tables, he’s not used to a sight like this. In his apartment it is always clean and tidy, not a dirty plate in sight. “ You live by yourself?” he asked, placing his stuff on the table. 

“ Yeah, my roommate moved four months ago with her boyfriend.” You give up cleaning the mess since there’s too much to clean. “ Want some-” You are interrupted when you feel Taehyung’s lips on your, your hands push his chest flustered at the sudden kiss.

“ I-I- sorry...I must have read something wrong,” he looks embarrassed immediately backing up giving you space. “ I thought you invited me to your apartment for sex.” Taehyung notices how your eyes widen, fuck he feels like an ass, scared that he made you uncomfortable. “ I should go…” he goes to pick up his bags ready to bolt out.

“ I just wanted to talk...to get to know you better,” you speak before his hands grab the doorknob. “ We can paint and talk, if that's okay with you?” 

“ Are you sure? You don’t want me to leave?” 

“ Stay.” You go to the sink to wash your dirty brushes. 

Taehyung sits down looking at the wall, notices a canvas of a man, he has plump lips, gentle eyes, overall he is beautiful, something that seemed out of this world. Maybe it was the way it was painted that made it appear like that. “ You painted that?” Taehyung speaks shifting his gaze to you.

You look at where Taehyung was pointing at, it was the painting of your ex boyfriend, “ Yeah, that’s my ex boyfriend, Seokjin. The professor told us to paint the definition of love…,” you stare at Seokjin’s face, remembering the memories you shared. The brushes are all cleaned and you set them down, grabbing some water colors that are in the cabinet. 

“ Do you still love him?” Taehyung curiously asked, watching carefully at your reaction.

There’s a slight pain of thinking about him, truly not over his death. “ Yeah I’ll always have love for him…” 

Taehyung wants to ask more about him but doesn’t want to intrude, he doesn’t say anything else but paints. This is when Taehyung feels like he’s truly being himself painting, expressing himself without saying anything. Moments like these wish Taehyung would’ve chosen doing what he has a passion for insteading appealing to his mothers standards. 

“ Why are you a data analysis major?” The artwork he is doing is remarkable, there’s dark undertones and eerie about it but it is beautiful something that you have to keep staring at.

He chuckles, “ Because I need to eat.” You look down feeling a little insulted he must've noticed since he immediately apologizes. 

“ It’s okay. You know if you ever want to relax and paint, you can come here,” you continue painting small flowers. The first time, he smiles and nods his head.

---

5 months later

This is the third flower shop visited and he’s getting more tired with each second. “ This arrangement or this one?” You ask Taehyung, as you hold two bouquets. One was more filled with carnations and the other was filled with lilies. He gives it some thought before pointing at the carnations. “ This would be pretty to paint,” you smell it getting happy inside.

“ Finally, when can we eat...I didn't eat anything this morning,” his stomach growls at the thought of food. He’s still carrying the vases you bought at the thrift shop, you had to plead with you to not buy another antique mirror because he knows he would have to carry it to the apartment.

You gave the cashier the money, as he wraps the flowers in newspaper, turning your head you look at Taehyung, “ Why did you come with me if you were going to complain the whole time?” You laugh at his scrunched nose as you pinch it. The flowers are handed back and you thank the cashier, leaving with Taehyung.

“ Because I wanted to,” Taehyung shrugs. In your apartment he puts the flowers away as you cook him food, he always enjoys your cooking. When he was younger all he ever ate was ramen, never really ate some home cooked meals, his mother was always busy working trying to financially support the family so he never once asked his mom for dinner. Even at his own apartment he doesn’t eat Jungkook’s food since he doesn’t know how to cook either. Sometimes when he’s hungry he’ll just come to your apartment and you’ll be more than happy to cook for him.

When Taehyung enters his apartment Jungkook is watching anime, foot propped on the table and sipping some beer. “ Back from your girlfriends’ so soon?” 

“ Not my girlfriend but yeah, I left my schoolwork here so I had to come back,” he sighs. Taehyung doesn’t get mad when Jungkook teases him about you being his girlfriend, but he sometimes gets annoyed. He likes the friendship between the two of you, it’s different from any other friendships he had in the past. “ Tomorrow night the apartment is mine. This guy wants to hangout with me.”

“ Just say he wants to fuck you,” Jungkook yells as Taehyung closes his bedroom door. 

---

You meet Taehyung at the park with some bread, he hugs you and asks about your day. “ It was okay. Had lunch with my Dad, but it always ends up in some lecture. I swear, sometimes it feels like I’m fifteen or something,” you tear a piece of bread throwing it into the pond watching some ducks gobble it. You try to look at Taehyung but it hurts when you see some hickies on his neck. On the day you were about to confess your feelings to Taehyung you asked him if he ever loved someone, he laughed and said that he doesn’t believe in no such thing as love. As much as you wanted to disapprove of that idea, you couldn’t be the one to change it.

He grabs some bread, chucking some pieces out, “ What was the argument?”

You laugh thinking about your Dad’s red face, “ I invited him to my apartment, and he found the blunt we smoked together in the ashtray.”

“ Shit, I should’ve thrown it away,” Taehyung laughs too, pushing some of his hair back. 

“ Just glad he didn’t find any of my sex toys,” you cringe just thinking about it. You feel something tugging the end of your skirt, looking down you see a toddler smiling cheekily pointing at the bread. You smile, “ Here, have fun,” you hand him the rest of your bread. You watch him wobble as he runs to his mother throwing the whole slice in the water. 

“ Sex toys?” Taehyung asked once the child was out of sight. “ Like what?,” Taehyung is interested, he doesn’t know, maybe because he can’t imagine you using them. Or he wants to know how you use it. There were times when Taehyung wanted to have sex with you but he turned those urges off. He doesn’t want to give you mixed signals remembering Jungkook’s words of advice. “ Never-”

“ A dildo, vibrator, hitachi wand, or even my favorite pillow,” you trail off not thinking much until you realize who you are confessing to. “ I-I uh…”

“ How often?,” Taehyung asked quietly, not wanting any other people hearing the conversation. He shouldn’t get turned on but he is.

Something about Taehyung’s deep quiet voice is making you squeeze your thighs, “ Every night…” You're still looking at the pond, watching the ripples that are caused by the ducks swimming away. You can feel Taehyung's stare but you ignore it. The conversation switches to another topic when you talk about your school work. The sun sets and you both part ways.

The sound of tea kettle wakes you up from your concentration of you sketching, sighing you pour yourself the tea. Looking at your art, you turn it over not wanting to see Taehyung’s face right now. But fate has different plans when you hear knocking on the door, Taehyung appears, he lets himself in and is close to your face.

“ Taehyung?” You’re puzzled at his frazzled state, deeply staring into your eyes. 

“ Can I kiss you?” The words are quiet but firm. Stupidly you nod, not caring about any consequences. His hands cup your face, immediately going into the kiss. The kisses get deeper, his hands travel to your hips bringing you closer to him quickly, you lose friction from the fluffy socks you're wearing causing you to slip, immediately grabbing Taehyung as you fall backwards. His hands are quick to save himself from not falling onto you. There’s a slight pain on your tailbone but is immediately forgotten when Taehyung goes back to kissing you.

The big t-shirt you are wearing is tossed, his hands immediately fondle your breast, his lips leaving kisses on your neck, groaning as he pushes his bulge against your clothed core. “ Taehyung...let me touch you,” you moan when he bites your neck. He pulls back, pecking your lips before taking off his clothes. Your hands trail against his chest, his stomach, towards his pelvic, trying to remember every part of him. He is surprised to have you touching him like he was some marvel statue, usually his past hookups just rush into the sex. It’s very intimate and he doesn’t know how to feel about it.

 Taehyung groans when you touch his dick, he’s hard and wants to be inside of you already. He comes down kissing you, his hands get rid of your panties, fingers spreading your wetness. The moans you let out are turning him on even more, he stretches you out with his fingers. He likes the way your eyes flutter, the shape of your lips tremble, along with your chest inhaling and exhaling deeply. “ You are so pretty,” he doesn’t mean to say it loudly but he does. There’s a blush that blooms on your cheeks, it reminds him of the flowers you would get to study paint.

“ Taehyung,” you moan slightly flustered at his compliment. He reaches for his pants grabbing a condom. “ You don’t want to go to the bedroom?” The floor is still cold against your back, and the last time you cleaned the floor was days ago. 

Taehyung shakes head, already putting on the condom not wanting to waste time, “ Too far,” he smiles when you laugh. He enters you feeling you clench tightly around, he moans digging his head into your neck. “ You are so tight,” he groans. “ Feels so fucking good, having you like this,” he confesses.

You moan loudly, his thick cock streching “ Oh fuck, Taehyung, please just fuck me,” your hands go to his waist urging him to move. He listens to your command, thrusting slowly trying to get deep as he can. Maybe if you can close your eyes you can pretend that he’s in love with you. He goes faster and cries at the pace he’s going, the pleasure is overwhelming, something that you can’t get with your own hands. “ I’m close already,” your hand goes to tug at his wavy hair.

“ Me too,” his voice is deeper. His hand travels down to your pussy searching for your clit and rubbing it. “ Come for me,” he says into your ear. You moan his name loudly, cumming around his cock, scratching his back. The sight of you creaming around him makes him immediately come, he searches for your lips, moaning your name in the kiss. The two of you lay in the afterglow of the sex, panting loudly his body is barely being hold up, and you laying on the hard floor.

Taehyung gets up throwing his condom away, he looks at you still laying on the floor with your eyes close, the realization of him having sex with you just popped up. He hurriedly gets dressed, then helps you get dressed, he gets shocked when you kiss him as a thank you. The next morning Taehyung wakes up early, making sure to leave quietly, not wanting to disrupt your sleep.

---

You weren’t going to lie, it kind of hurt not waking up beside Taehyung but you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up. Namjoon invites you to a kick back, only inviting a few people to his house to chill and drink. You take solace on the couch, watching people get high and drunk, you weren’t in the mood to do either so you make conversation with a slightly high Hoseok. He’s in mid-discussion about Shrek being a cinematic masterpiece, when Jungkook yells from the door entrance that he has Taco Bell. Taehyung is beside him wearing all black beanie, crewneck, and sweatpants, but still looks better than half of the people here.

 You turn your gaze back to Hoseok who’s left walking towards Jungkook immediately grabbing a taco. Sighing you decide to get fresh air, staring at the tall dark buildings. “ Whatcha you doing here by yourself? It’s fucking freezing,” Taehyung speaks out closing the slider door standing by you. He takes off his vape pen inhaling it.

“ Wanted fresh air,” you shrug, still staring at the buildings. “ Hoseok left me for tacos. He was onto something, saying that Shrek is a masterpiece. Who knows maybe he’ll write his thesis about it.” Taehyung chuckles, he keeps looking at you and you finally stare at him. “ Why’d you kiss me yesterday?”

He blows out the smoke, and puts his pen away, “ Cuz I wanted to,” he shrugs not thinking much about it. 

“ Nothing else?” You arch your eyebrow.

He continues to stare into your eyes “ Nope,” he shakes his head.  

Some part of you wanted him to say that he had feelings for you but in the back of your mind you knew that wasn’t going to happen. You smile pushing his chest, “ Well that’s the last time we are ever going to do anything like that.” The both of you know that is a lie.

---

For the next couple of months you and Taehyung continue sleeping with each other.

When you are studying with Namjoon in the library, Jungkook and Taehyung spontaneously show up, causing Namjoon to groan. “ You know you love me,” Jungkook jokingly says sitting next to him. 

Taehyung sits down next to you, looking at your classwork, “ How long have you been studying,” he whispers. 

You turn to look at the time of your phone, “ Like four hours,” you sigh. He hands you a jolly rancher, you immediately put in your mouth. “ Why are you here? You texted me that you were going to take a fat ass nap?”

“ I wanted to see you, kind of missed you,” he lays his head against the table. His eyes close when you brush his soft hair. 

“ I’ll be done in forty minutes.” He lets off a quiet okay continuing to look at you doing your work. 

Taehyung wakes up to you caressing his cheek, his neck is in pain from the awkward position he slept in. “ Where did Jungkook and Namjoon go?,” he looks at the empty seats. He tries to crack his neck and watches you pack your stuff.

“ They left about twenty minutes ago,” you get up stretching your legs. “ Let’s head home. We still have left over pizza,” you groan at the pain on your lower back. 

For some odd reason Taehyung liked hearing you say home, there’s some comfort it gives him but he never says it out loud. Taehyung grabs your backpack, holding it for you as you walk towards your car. You look in the fridge for the pizza, but Taehyung has other plans when he closes the fridge door, pinning you against it kissing you feverishly, his tongue already begging for entrance. Laughing you push him away, “ What’s gotten into you?”

“ I told you...I miss you,” his hands are on your waist. He kisses you again, picking you up easily and placing you on the kitchen table. He takes off your pants and panties, and you reach for his pants but he stops you forcing you to lie completely on the table. “ Look at you, laying so pretty on the table,” he bends down kissing you on your lips before he goes down on you. 

He licks your cunt, gently prodding his tongue up and down. Your hips move frantically wanting to feel more of him. His rough hands pin your hips, and he continues with his teasing, lightly kissing your clit before touring you with his slow pace.  “ Look at your pussy, it looks like the roses you painted yesterday…,” his finger goes up and down your folds.

The words make your cheeks grow hot, “ No it doesn’t,” you get shy shaking your head. The embarrassment fills your body, for maybe shamelessly liking his compliment. You are probably never going to look at roses the same way ever again.

“ Yeah, it does Y/N, but your pussy is more pretty,” he continues to tease you. Wanting to see you get more flustered, he likes it when you do it gets him more turned on. “ I wonder if it smells like roses too,” he’s about to smell your pussy but you hold his head. He watches you cutely shake your head. 

Taehyung is filthy but it makes you get even more aroused. “ It won’t,” you whisper, wanting to cry but he shakes his kissing the inside of your thigh to try to comfort you. 

He smells your pussy and he groans, your heart thumps faster and nervous for what's about to say, “ It smells better,” he kisses your clit. His tongue keeps tracing your folds gently wanting to make you beg for more. The movement of his tongue makes you want to pull your own hair out. The pleasure is barely there but it grows within each second of his tongue flicking up and down.

“ Taehyung,” you let out desperate whine, “ please, I need more.” One of his hands slap your cunt, and your back arches surprise but even more turned on. You never knew that you were into that. The sting hurts at first but shoots up ecstasy after a nanosecond, you can’t help but seek more. “ More!” 

Taehyung lets out a dark chuckle, he gives you another slap, slightly harder on the center of your clit, the stinging making your face scrunch up but letting out a lewd moan. He groans at your wetness seeping out some of it landing on the table.

Suddenly, he is done with all the teasing, and dives in, nose touching your clit and tongue inside your entrance going in and out. Finding it extremely hot that you are riding his face, like the pillow on your bed. Taehyung vividly remembers when you showed him how you ride your pillow last week. The way you desperately let out cute whines trying so hard to relieve yourself as Taehyung only watched, wanting to see you get off without his help. 

He moves his face side to side so his nose can rub your clit. Head in the clouds, your body is floating with ecstasy wanting to stay in it forever. Your hands reach down trying to anchor yourself, Taehyung reaches for your hand holding it tight. You cry out his name loudly, coming intensely, your eyes are shut when it doesn’t seem to stop. Your body finally calms down, looking down you see Taehyung’s face is completely wet. “ Oh my god, did I-

“ Fuck, that was hot,” Taehyung wipes his face with the back his arm. He kisses your lips, he helps you from the table, handing you your panties. 

“ Let me repay you?,” you tug at his belt loop, you look down to see the bulge is gone and there’s a wet stain. Your eyes widen, “ Did you come?”

“ Yeah, you squirting on me, made me bust a nut. I swore I never came that hard either,” he sighs happily. Laughing you go towards the fridge, finally eating the cold pizza. You hand him one and he eats it in two bites. “ My mom called me today…”

Taehyung hardly talks about his family, you only know that he was raised only by his mother. He never talked bad about her but you can tell that they didn’t have a close  relationship. “ What happened?” You and Taehyung move so you're sitting on the couch.

“ She told me that my father wanted to meet up with me,” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “ Told her that I don’t want to. She started crying and telling me that he’s my father...I sometimes think she’s still in love with him. She’s an idiot.” He lays his back staring at the ceiling.

“ Sometimes it’s hard to get over someone that you once loved. The one you shared your laughs, arguments, touches, memories...vanish into thin air... or you could hold onto it. Love isn’t easy...it’s messy, it’s confusing but it’s beautiful being able to share it with someone. Don’t you think?” You look at Taehyung’s side profile.

Taehyung turns his head looking at you, “ I don’t know...I will never fall in love. I don’t want to end up like my parents,” he closes his eyes.

“ Taehyung-“

He opens his eyes smiling, grabbing your hands, “ Let’s head to bed,” already over the conversation. 

---

Jungkook is cooking breakfast and almost burns his hand when a random girl walks out of Taehyung’s room. Immediately she exits their apartment, doing the walk of shame. Taehyung walks out shirtless with hickies on his chest and dishevelled hair. Jungkook clears his throat, “ Thought you were seeing Y/N,” he turns off the stove.

Taehyung grabs a glass of water, “ We are just friends,” he takes several gulps.

Jungkook scoffs rolling his eyes at his friend’s stupidity, “ Yeah, friends who have sex, hold hands, and almost spend every night together. My bad I forgot they changed the definition of ‘friends’ in the Webster dictionary.”

“ Whatever man...I'm out of here,” Taehyung leaves the kitchen going to his room. He looks at himself in the mirror, disgusted at his appearance, at the splotchy marks on his neck. Why am I like this? Taehyung leaves his apartment ignoring Jungkook, entering your apartment with his set of keys. He looks at you cooking pancakes, you look at him quickly and smiling.

“ Hey...you want some? It’s your favorite banana pancakes,” you flip the pancake. He looks at the big stack of pancakes you have on the table, you continue with the last couple of pancakes and sit down taking a couple of bites. You are consumed by the taste, not really focusing on Taehyung until he clears his throat, looking at him you notice marks on his neck. Your heart plummets, you thought the whole time the two of you have been messing around he wasn’t seeing anyone else. “ You hooked up with someone else yesterday?,” you set your utensils down.

Taehyung nods trying to look nonchalant, “ Yeah, is that a problem?” 

“ No,” you try to lie to yourself but it’s no use, your face looks the opposite of how you feel, disheartening, you can’t save face even if your life's on the line. Swallowing hard you shake your head, “ Actually, yes. It is a problem,” you sigh. “ I don’t understand you. You treat me like a lover, but then you do things like this…” you get up from the kitchen table tossing the plates in the sink, not caring that you didn’t finish the meal, “ I open my heart with you but you don’t do the same. I feel used in this relationship or whatever the hell this is,” your hands clenched tightly as you turn around and face Taehyung.

He’s now by the kitchen counter standing up, “ I told you I’m not looking for love. I’m sorry if I gave you mixed feelings but I don’t want this to end whatever we have with each other. I like how things are-”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at his words, “ Well I don’t...if you want to fuck around then do it... I’m not going to care for you like I love you anymore.” The angry tears stream down your face, your hands wipe them before he could, “ Go Taehyung. I wish you the best,” his face is etched with subtle pain, turning away from him you wash the dishes not bothering to look at the sound of him leaving.

---

Three days later

Taehyung hasn’t been sleeping well, tossing and turning, giving up completely and decides to study all night long. This has been a daily occurrence since the fight with you. I’m not going to care for you like I love you anymore. Taehyung groans, wanting to get the image of you out of his brain. Jungkook knocks on his door, eyes widening at the sight of him, “ You look like shit, c’mon Namjoon is having another get together.”

When Taehyung shows up to the party he watches you have a conversation with Hoseok, from a far distant, unsure how you would react if you saw him. Taehyung waits till Hoseok leaves, walking towards you as you are on your phone texting someone. He watches you jolt as he calls your name. “ Hey,” you greet him but there’s no smile or warmth like you usually greet. And he hates it, it makes him feel like a stranger.

“ About the last time, I’m sorry that we got into an argument,” Taehyung apologizes, he tucks his hands in his pockets, a nervous tick he developed when he was elementary. 

“ Ok,” you nod your head, not wanting to discuss something so private in a social setting. “ I should get going, I got a research paper to go over,” you give him one last glance and leave, not saying goodbye to anyone else.

Taehyung doesn’t like the way your back faces him, leaving him all alone with a place full of people. He pushes against people not wanting to let you go so easily, he wants to talk to you, he wants to hear you talk. He wants to lay in your bed and listen to your heart beat while you stroke his hair, letting him fall asleep in your arms. You're opening your car door, and you halt when he calls your name, you wait patiently for what he’s going to say. Please stay.  “ I-I uh...I wish you the best, Y/N” Taehyung says. He watches you give him one last small smile and drive away. 

---

Six months later

Taehyung hates visiting his mother, there’s always something unsettling when he enters his childhood home. As soon as greets his mother she comments about his weight, his slightly long wavy hair, and baggy clothes. She doesn’t ask him college, she never does. Instead he listens to her talk about her work. “ I told your father that you're in town,” she says over the sound of the faucet. Taehyung nods, handing her the dirty dishes, “ I told him you are free tomorrow, you are going to visit him at IHOP,” she leaves no room for argument. 

The sun wakes up Taehyung before his alarm does, he doesn’t really put in effort to look nice but when his mother gives him a look, he changes into something more appropriate. Maybe if Taehyung was in middle school he would be nervous meeting his father but now that he’s an adult he couldn’t care less. It takes him a while to find his father, he looks older from his adolescent years, has a few gray hairs and slightly wrinkled skin. His father stands up, and Taehyung immediately holds his hand out giving him a handshake not wanting to receive an awkward hug. His father looks surprised but compiles, awkwardly laughing and sits down taking a gulp of his hot black coffee. “ I ordered your favorite,” his father points to the triple drizzle chocolate milkshake with a red cherry on top that is set in front of Taehyung. “ How are you kiddo? You look so grown up, your mother has been feeding you well, huh?”

“ Yup.” Taehyung looks at the red cherry. 

There’s too much uncomfortable tension, and his father is letting more awkward coughs to try to fill the silence. “ Almost done with college, yeah? Just three more months, and you gotta face the real world,” his father comments.

Taehyung has been facing the real world since he was a teenager, he worked when he was in highschool to pay for college, he cooked his own dinner because his mother always came home late, he didn’t need to graduate college to find out the world was shitty. “ Yeah.”

His father tries really hard to have some sort of conversation with his son.“ You still like to paint?”

Taehyung smiles, getting reminded of you. He wonders what you are doing right now, if you are painting the canvas he bought you when you guys were friends. “ No. I mean yeah, sorta. I painted with this girl, she made me fall back in love with painting but I did something horrible to her. Now I can’t paint without thinking about her,” he sighs. 

There’s surprise etched on his father’s face, since more than a word came out of his son’s mouth. “ Seems like a very important person to you. You should talk things out with her, don’t want to lose someone like that.” 

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “ Why? You did the same thing to us.”

“ Taehyung-”

“ You really fucked me up father, I hate that you and mom made me this way. I want to love her but I’m scared...what if she ends up leaving me like you did. I rather be alone for the rest of my life than to have someone steal a part of me,” Taehyung grits his teeth.

“ I-I I’m sorry Taehyung...I really am. I hate myself everyday for not visiting you, I should’ve been there for you...Your mother and I once loved each other but sometimes people fall out of love, but that doesn’t mean love is evil. Don’t give up on love because of our failed marriage, son, you deserve to be in love.”

---

One week later

“ Fuck, watch where you going asshole,” you yell at the asshole who wasn’t paying attention that made you drop all of your art supplies. He doesn’t even bother apologizing, just continues to walk with his friends. You pick up your pencils, someone helps you pick up your other materials. “ Thank-” you stop midway when your eyes are met with Taehyung. He hands you the sketchpads, you quickly put it in your bag, “ Thanks.”

“ No problem. You just got out of class?,” he asked intently looking at you.

His hair is pushed back by his headband, showing his forehead, he’s wearing his usual baggy grandpa clothes. It makes your heart flutter, but you quickly push the feeling away. “ Yeah, but I have to go back to pick up my two pieces,” you shrug. 

“ You need a hand?” He offers with a careful smile.

You contemplate, you don’t want to make two trips, “ If you’re not busy…”

He eagerly shakes his head. “ I’m not, let me help.” Taehyung follows you to the art room, and picks up the pieces easily despite it being large canvases. There’s silence when you are done putting it in your car. 

“ Thank you,” you give him a grateful smile. “ Do you need to ride home?”

Taehyung took his car to campus but he lies, he accepts your offer in hopes that you guys can talk things over. The radio is on low, and Taehyung is almost near his apartment, “ I lied I don’t need a ride,” he starts off and you let out a surprise laugh.

“ Why are you just telling me now?,” you are about two minutes from the destination. 

“ I wanted to talk to you about what happened to us-”

You sigh, not wanting to reopen bandage wounds on your heart, “ Taehyung, I’m over it-” 

His head turns to face you, “ I love you. I think I always loved you since we became friends. I was scared to tell you because it was something so new for me...I was selfish, I thought that everything we had was fine but I never took your feelings into consideration.” He’s breathing really hard because he finally confessed his heart out, something he vowed he’ll never do since he was a child. 

“ Why? Why now?,” you swallow hard, not looking at him but only the road. Scared that if you look into his eyes, you’ll get lost into them. 

“ It took me a while to come in terms with how I am feeling. Because love is messy right?,” his voice cracks.

The car is now parked in his driveway, “ Yeah, it is.” Turning to finally face him, he has little tears in his eyes that haven’t fallen. “ I still love you, Taehyung,” your hand touches his soft cheek, caressing it. Taehyung leans closer to you and you close your eyes expecting a kiss, instead he sobs against your neck. Feeling wet tears against your neck, you try to coddle him but the tight space in the car is not giving you any room to do so. “ Tae, why are you crying?,” you comb the back of his curls.

Taehyung pulls away giving you a tearful smile, “ Because for the first time in my life I know what love is.”

end.

hello my dear bonnie, if you're still taking prompts, can i suggest #47 👀 ?

LOVE THIS PROMPT!!! here you go my love<3

prompt: you’re casually seeing my roommate and think they’re in the shower when you strip down to join me and we end up screaming and my roommate thinks it’s the funniest thing and tries to set us up on a date

yikes at this going from a quick lil ficlet to 6.7k oof

would it be okay if i came home to you (explicit) (ao3)

Alina steps into the shower, wondering how the hell she ended up rooming with Zoya to begin with.

Don't get her wrong, she loves Zoya. But her raven-haired friend can be difficult, and she was supposed to have buffer. Originally, it was going to be her, Zoya, and Genya living together, until Genya backed out last minute to move in with her boyfriend David instead.

"I'm so sorry, but it just makes sense," Genya said to them over lunch one afternoon. "Besides, if things go how I think they will, you two will be on the same path that I'm on soon enough."

Zoya scoffed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Alina had the same question, considering both of them were hopelessly single.

Genya just sipped her tea and said in a sing-song voice, "You'll see."

At first, living with Zoya was fine. They agreed easily on most apartment related things; splitting up chores, rules about not touching each other's food, a timely heads up before having friends or potential sexual partners over. Zoya could get nit picky about a few things, like the lecture she'd given her on the proper position of the toilet paper roll. It goes over, Starkov, understand? Under is for heathens and natural selection is coming for them. But otherwise, things had been fine.

Until Mal.

He was a part of the friend circle she had surrounded herself with since freshman year. But there was something about Mal that had drawn her to him in a way that was different from the rest of the group — different from anyone else she had ever met. He was like a drug, a magnet, the missing link that had her saying, where have you been my whole life, when you're meant to be here beside me? So quickly he had become her closet friend, and as much as their group liked to tease them, they both denied feeling anything beyond fierce friendship.

But Alina was such a liar.

Which makes it her own fault, really, for ending up in this situation. Zoya could, quite frankly, be a bitch — but she wouldn't have gone after Mal if Alina had just owned up to her feelings.

Though she really could have told her about it sooner.

Alina had been studying in the living room one night when a knock at the door startled her. Zoya hadn't mentioned having company, and neither of them had ordered food. Hesitantly, she rose and stood on her tiptoes to peek through the peephole. Then her face lit up, and she swung the door open. "Mal!"

Saints, he looked good. He appeared freshly showered, dressed in a silky green shirt and dark jeans. He had actually put effort into his hair for once, and he had a small gold hoop earring in his left ear.

"Hey, Lina," he said, something a little off with the smile he gave her. As he passed by to come inside, she could smell expensive cologne.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, butterflies in her stomach. Her head was already filling with wild fantasies. He wanted to surprise her, so he showed up without notice. He put effort into how he looked, because he wanted to impress her. He was going to reveal his true feelings for her, and she would revel in the fact that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Instead, Zoya entered the room and said, "He's here for me."

Mal had the decency to flush and offer a sheepish shrug. "I'm gonna grab some water," he said, and scuttled off to the kitchen. Of course, Mal had been here plenty of times before. He knew where everything was.

Alina had barely heard him though, Zoya's words repeating on a loop in her head. He's here for me. She knew what this meant, even as her mind tried to deny it. The room was spinning and she couldn't quite steady herself, like something had broken inside of her.

She swallowed, and as calmly as possible, said, "What happened to the heads up rule?"

Zoya arched a brow. "I texted you two hours ago."

Alina frowned and pulled out her phone. Sure enough, there was a text from Zoya. Got a guy coming over in a couple hours. She must have missed it, lost in her studies. But still, something in the text ignited anger in her chest.

"You could have said the guy was Mal."

Zoya shrugged, so frustratingly nonchalant. "What does it matter?"

It matters because I am so hopelessly in love with him, and you're supposed to be my friend, and now I have to blast music so I don't hear the sounds of you two fucking, she thought.

"He's my best friend," she said. "It's just a little weird, I guess."

"Don't worry, Starkov," Zoya said, turning toward the kitchen, probably to grab Mal so they could get the night started. "It won't affect anything between you two."

Alina waited until the two of them were tucked away in Zoya's room. Then she pulled on her old running shoes and slipped out — there was just no way she could be here, knowing what was happening in the room across from her own.

She ran with no destination in mind, pumping her little legs as hard as they could go, music pounding from her headphones. When she became too tired to go further, she checked her surroundings and sighed. Of course, her feet took her to one of her favorite places in the city.

It's not anything, really. A quiet street with an old abandoned building at the end of it. But on the building's brick wall is one of her favorite pieces of art. A mural of the sun, complex in its simplicity, using colors she had never seen used to express the sun before, yet perfectly capturing the feeling of a warm sunny day.

Alina leaned against the wall, slid down until she was sitting on the old, cracked sidewalk. Only then did she realize that she was crying. Turning off her music, she called Genya, and told her everything.

"You have to talk to Zoya," Genya said.

"No!" she said quickly. "I don't want her to feel bad. It's not her fault. And if Mal likes her — well, it's not like he's shown any interest in me. I'm not going to get in their way."

"Alina," Genya sighed.

"It's fine," she promised. "I just—" A sob escaped her throat, the pain overshadowing any coherent thought. It was not fine.

"Send me your location," Genya said, and Alina did.

She spent the night at Genya and David's that night, David promising he was more than okay with taking the couch so her and Genya could have the bed. Which was needed, because Alina had a lot more crying to do.

"Just don't tell Zoya," she said.

"Alina, I don't know."

"Promise, Genya. Please."

Finally, Genya sighed. "All right."

That was four months ago. Zoya had told her it wouldn't affect her close bond with Mal, but it had. Alina never invites Mal over anymore, too afraid that he'll come to watch a movie, sit on the couch beside her — much closer than most friends sit. They would point out everything terrible about it, because they loved to watch bad films together as they stuffed their faces with popcorn. Then the movie would end and Mal would say goodnight, but instead of leaving, he'd go to Zoya's room, and the popcorn they ate would sour in her stomach.

There were so many little changes, too. Like when they hung out as a group, and suddenly Alina was questioning every move she made around him. Was it still okay to playfully ruffle his hair, to sit close enough that their shoulders pressed together, to look at him like he personally hung the sun and the moon in the sky, all while Zoya was there to see? Was it wrong to look at his lips and fantasize about how they would feel against her own, pressed to her collarbone, sucking her most sensitive spots? Zoya and Mal were a casual thing, they had both said so. But still, the natural intimacy her friendship with Mal had built for the past two years suddenly felt wrong, and she hated it.

Needless to say, Alina has been looking into new rooming possibilities for next year. She can't do this anymore. Every time Mal comes over, she waits for them to lock themselves away in Zoya's room, and then she leaves. She runs to her sun, sometimes just sitting and letting her sad song playlist make her sadder, sometimes bringing her sketchbook to at least make art out of the pain.

But tonight she has a very rare opportunity — the apartment to herself. Only for a couple hours, but still. She has spent most of the time so far blaring music, and her neighbors probably hate her, but damn it, they can deal with it for a night.

She lets the music play as she takes a much needed shower. Sure, she could have gone the bath route, but she doesn't want to waste all her time getting clean. Alina has decided her hours alone should end with a much needed date with her vibrator and an Owen Gray video that she's going to watch without headphones.

Olivia Rodrigo's Brutal is pounding from her speaker, and though Alina's twenty-one, not seventeen, the lyrics hit all the same. She's so into the music, thinking about her life for the past four months, thinking about moving as soon as she possibly can, thinking yeah, it really is fucking brutal out here, that she does not notice the telltale signs of someone entering her apartment, and even more worrisome, someone entering the bathroom. Not until it's too late.

"Thought you were too cool for Olivia Rodrigo," a very male voice says, and then the shower curtain opens.

Screams fill the air from both of them. Alina's already holding her conditioner bottle, and on instinct, hurls it at the man's chest while her other hand reaches for her razor.

"Oi!"

Only then does her mind register that it's not a strange man come to sexually assault her, it's Mal. Her best friend. Her roommate's casual lover slash fuck buddy slash whatever. It's Mal, completely naked before her. She gets a quick glimpse of his cock, half-hard, before he curses and turns around.

It doesn't help that his backside is just as nice to look at. He's well toned, muscles flexing as he reaches to grab the clothes he must have just discarded. He bends, giving her the most sinful view of his ass, and Saints, her mind goes wild. She pictures him turning back around and pushing her against the wall, slamming inside of her. As he fucks her, she would reach around and grab that delicious ass of his, dig her fingers into the plump skin, and leave little half-moon indents.

Mal is apologizing over and over again — "I thought you were Zoya!" — as he gathers up his clothes and makes a beeline for the door. Alina finally snaps out of her filthy fantasy and slides the shower curtain closed with a shaky hand. She leans back against the tiled wall, breathing hard. Her heart is pounding like never before.

The song is winding down. Olivia is crooning, God I don't even know where to start.

Neither does Alina.

~

By the time she musters the courage to finish her shower and leave the bathroom, her robe clutched tightly around her, there’s no sign of Mal in the apartment. Zoya isn’t back yet, either.

With a sigh of relief, she flops onto her bed. Her previous plans were out the window now. Taking a breath, she goes over the facts in her head. 

One: Mal has now seen her completely naked. 

Two: she has now seen Mal completely naked. 

It was the wrong thing to think about, because now she’s picturing the smooth expanse of his skin, his perfectly tight ass, and the quick glimpse she had gotten of his—

Heat pools between her thighs. She’s positively aching, when she should be feeling horrified. She should absolutely not be reaching for her vibrator as she lets the images of Mal’s naked body settle in her mind. It’s wrong, because Mal is, at least somewhat, Zoya’s, and Zoya is her friend. Besides, it was Zoya that he had come looking for, Zoya that he wanted to fuck against the shower wall. 

But Alina does grab her vibrator, and as it buzzes her to multiple releases, she imagines Mal shoving her against the wall, pressing kisses to her neck, fucking her like it’s his sole reason for existing. Fucking her like she’s his, and he’s hers.

~

She doesn’t see Zoya until the next morning, passing out sometime after orgasm number three. Saints, if the memory of Mal’s bare skin had been enough to keep her going for three rounds, she wasn’t sure she could even handle actually being with him. 

When she walks into the kitchen, Zoya is sitting at their tiny excuse for a table. “Good morning,” Alina says as naturally as possible. 

Zoya only says, “Sit down, Starkov.”

It’s unnerving, how quickly can could take over her entire body. Saying nothing, still going for casual, Alina sits across from her. “What’s up?”

“That’s my question, actually.” Zoya arches a brow. “What happened with you and Mal last night?”

Shit, shit, shit. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do. I know he stopped by before I got home. When I asked why he left, he got all weird and said something came up with Dubrov. But I know that’s a lie, because Dubrov was happily posting drunken stories last night. So obviously something happened when he was over.” Zoya sits back in her chair and stares her down, making her insides twist. “And since I don’t live with him, the only person I have to grill is you. So get talking.”

Alina sighs, knowing she isn’t strong enough to deny Zoya when she’s like this, and babbles out the story. Really, it wasn’t her fault. Mal was the one that walked in on her. It was just incredibly embarrassing for both of them. 

When she finishes, Zoya lets the information sink in, and then she laughs, harder than Alina has ever seen her laugh.

“Well I’m so glad this is funny to you,” she huffs, arms crossed over her chest.

“It is! I can only imagine your faces, shit.” Zoya wipes at her eyes. “Too bad you already know each other, that would make for one hell of a meet cute.” She pauses and says, “Well, it still could be your origin.”

Alina frowns. “Our origin?”

“You know, if you guys dated.”

She momentarily loses her breath. “What? No, you guys are a thing.”

Zoya rolls her eyes. “We’re fucking, Alina, that’s it. And actually, I was planning on cutting it off after last night.” She stands and pours herself what is at least her second up of coffee. “There’s someone else I’m interested in.”

“Someone else? Who?” Zoya says nothing. Alina pops up as it comes to her. “Oh! It’s that rich blond guy from the bar, isn’t it? The one that transferred here this semester. Nikolai or something, right?”

The tiniest blush spreads on Zoya’s face, and Alina squeals. “It is him! Saints, he’s attractive.”

“Yes, he is,” Zoya snaps. “And not bad for conversation, either.”

“Conversation?” She grins. “Why, Miss Nazyalensky, do you actually have feelings for this guy?”

Zoya scowls. “Shut it, Starkov.”

“Oh, you totally have feelings for him!”

“Keep it up and you will pay for this. I’m devising a plan as we speak.”

Alina just laughs. “Okay, Mrs. Whatever Nikolai’s Last Name Is.”

Under her breath, Zoya mutters, “Lantsov,” and stalks off with her coffee as Alina laughs harder. 

~

Zoya, apparently, hadn’t been kidding when she said she was devising a plan. 

When the weekend rolls around once again and Zoya texts the group chat they have with Genya about getting lunch, Alina jumps at the idea. She missed Genya, and it had been a hell of a week between juggling exams and thinking about her encounter with Mal. They haven’t spoken at all, and she had used her classes as an excuse to get out of any hang outs where he might show up. 

Zoya’s words from the morning after had been on her mind a lot, too. It still could be your origin. Could it? Was Mal even interested in her — and would he even want to try, after he’d had something with Zoya, or would it just be inevitably awkward?

Alina approaches the restaurant and sucks in a breath. She’s decided to finally tell Zoya about how she’s had feelings for Mal all this time, and maybe with her and Genya, the three of them can come up with what the hell Alina should do next. 

Zoya had texted five minutes ago saying she grabbed them a table in the restaurant’s outdoor patio, so she makes her way there. Only it’s not Zoya or even Genya waiting for her.

It’s Mal. 

He looks just as surprised to see her as she is to see him, and for a moment, she believes it really is some crazy coincidence. 

“Alina,” he says, standing. Neither of them can quite meet the other’s eye. “What are you doing here?”

Her hand is doing some nervous twitchy thing at her side, so she shoves it into the pocket of her dress. “I’m supposed to be meeting Zoya and Genya.”

Mal curses under his breath. “I’m supposed to be meeting Zoya, too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Shaking her head and feeling incredibly stupid, Alina takes out her phone and fires off a text to Zoya, WHAT THE HELL????

The next message she receives comes from Zoya — only not in the text chat between the two of them, but rather a newly created group chat with the two of them and Mal. 

consider this the official end to our fuck-mance, oretsev. yalls little bathroom flash show was the perfect opportunity for a new beginning, because yes, i see the doe eyes you give alina when she’s not looking. you too, starkov. i’m sorry for getting in the way for so long. have a good date, no throwing bottles at each other xoxo

They finish reading at the same time, looking up from their phones, eyes meeting before flickering away again. 

Mal sighs. “I think I hate her.”

“I think I hate her, too.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Alina bites her lip. Because he doesn’t want to do this, she thinks. “Oh, well, I guess—”

Mal cuts her off. “But it might be a nice chance for us to talk.” Her head snaps up, and this time when their eyes meet, neither of them look away. He smiles shyly. “I missed you this week, Lina.”

Her smile matches his. “I missed you, too.” 

They sit, and after the waiter takes their order for drinks and an appetizer for them to share — a sample platter, both of them too indecisive for any singular thing — Mal starts to stutter out an apology. Alina stops him with a hand on his arm. He looks down at where her fingers brush against bare skin, and she wonders if he’s thinking about all the skin they’ve bared to each other now. She certainly is.

“You don’t need to apologize, Mal,” she promises. “It was an accident.”

He shakes his head. “Still, I can’t imagine how terrifying that was for you.”

“Well, it was,” she admits, then adds, “at first.”

“At first?”

She shrugs, but says nothing, thankful for their drinks arriving to save her from answering. Because the truth was she had been scared for maybe three seconds. Once she had realized it was Mal, she’d only felt desire.

With their awkward shower encounter out of the way, they fall into fairly easy conversation, complaining about exams and projects, annoying classmates and neighbors. Soon enough, they’re back to being themselves. Alina pulls out her phone to show Mal all the memes and TikToks she had wanted to send him this week, and he does the same. Hours fly by without their notice, and now the dinner crowd is filing in. 

“Oi, I think our waiter is silently praying for us to leave.”

She laughs, pulling out her wallet. “Definitely.”

Mal waves her off. “Let me get it,” he says, taking his own wallet out. “I mean, since this is apparently a date and all.”

Alina hesitates, a little flutter in her chest even though he’d said it teasingly. “Okay, fine. But I’ll get the tip.”

“Deal.”

When everything is paid for, they stand. Going home is the last thing she wants right now, and not just because Zoya will be there. 

Mal looks ready to pull her into one of their standard hugs, but pauses. “Do you want to come over? We can find something shitty to watch. Mikhael and Dubrov will be around, but I just really don’t want to see Zoya right now.”

Alina smiles, the flutter in her chest returning with vigor. “Yeah, okay.”

~

At Mal’s flat, they settle onto the sofa together, close enough that their shoulders brush. Mikhael and Dubrov tease them about looking like lovebirds, but otherwise surprisingly leave them be. She doesn’t mind their company — but admittedly, she was glad they stayed to their respective rooms tonight. Mal puts on an indie horror flick that’s so bad it’s good, and they laugh and joke with each other throughout, per usual. 

About halfway through the film, they share a knowingly look — their that foreshadowing is so obvious, RIP to that character in twenty minutes look — and sport matching grins. But when the moment passes, neither of them looks away. 

“Alina,” Mal says softly, and her breath hitches. Has he ever said her name with such longing before?

His eyes flicker down — to her lips. She thinks of Zoya’s text then, basically calling both of them out for having feelings for each other. And while neither of them had confirmed it, they hadn’t denied it either.

Her heart is beating so fast. She gives him the tiniest nod.

Mal understands, he always does, and then he’s leaning in. Their noses brush before their lips do, and it could be silly or awkward, but instead it’s a different kind of intimacy she hadn’t known she wanted.

“Alina,” he breathes once more, and then he kisses her, so softly at first, it’s barely anything. Her stomach is doing cartwheels regardless. She takes initiative, kissing him back. Still soft, still careful, afraid that whatever this is between them is something fragile, something that needs delicacy. In some ways, it is. Her closest friendship, blossoming into something more. 

Mal lets out the softest moan, and it snaps something between them. 

He pulls her closer, his hand on the back of her neck, and now Alina is the one moaning, fervor replacing the softness, the delicacy. It’s the kind of kiss she’s been fantasizing about, made even better from how obvious it is that they’ve both wanted this for a long time. A desperate kiss bursting with desire. 

Alina shifts closer until she’s practically straddling his lap. Mal brings one hand to rest on her lower back, the other curling into her hair. His lips move to her neck, trailing down until he reaches her collarbone, where he nips and sucks, undoubtedly leaving a mark. 

“Mal,” she sighs, her head tipped back from the feeling as her hips roll against his. He curses against her skin. Her hands move to the hem of his shirt, ready to pull it off. 

All of a sudden, Mal pulls away, stopping her hands with his own. “Alina, don’t.”

She blinks her eyes open. “Do you want to move to your room?”

Mal bites his lip and shakes his head.

Alina frowns, any warmth in her chest turning cold. She quickly returns to her own side of the couch. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted this.” Wanted me, she thinks but doesn’t say. Because he certainly had no issues with Zoya.

“I do!” he says quickly, taking her hand again and trying to pull her back. She holds her ground, pulls her hand out of his. “I do want this, Alina. Saints, I do. But this is technically our first date, right? I don’t want to do first date sex, not with you.”

Alina rolls her eyes, looking down and tugging at a loose thread on her dress. “Is this where you say something you think sounds respectful but really just puts down all the girls you have had first date sex with?”

“Alina, please look at me.”

Grudgingly, she does. 

“You’re different because you’re my best friend, and because I’ve been hooking up with our mutual friend.” She flinches, but Mal continues. “I don’t want you to think we have to have sex because of that. What I had with Zoya — it was good, and I care about Zoya, but it didn’t go beyond the physical. That’s all we wanted from each other. But that’s not all I want with you.”

Mal closes his eyes. Alina’s unconsciously holding her breath. He exhales and opens his eyes again, holding her gaze. “I want everything with you, Alina. I want your highs and your lows. I want to take you against the wall as much as I want to hold your hand.” He does so now, both of his hands around one of hers, and this time she doesn’t pull away. “And if you didn’t want to be physical? I’d still want you. I don’t want you to think there’s anything we have to do. That’s why I want to wait — even if I also want to take you to my room and pin you against my bed, too.”

“Oh,” she says, barely audible. Alina shakes her head, a little speechless. “I don’t know what to say.”

The corner of his mouth tugs up. “Was that too rom-com confessional?”

The tension breaks. She laughs and climbs onto his lap again, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re such a dork, but you’re the perfect dork. So we’ll wait.” She pauses and looks up at him with innocent eyes. “But will you kiss me again?”

Mal grins, pushes her down against the couch, and does just that. 

~

When she gets home, Zoya is waiting in the living room, reading a smutty romance book Genya had recommended. “Hey, how’d it go?” she asks, too casually to actually be casual. 

Alina ignores her and walks straight to her room. She’s decided to let Zoya sweat it out a bit for the weekend after her little stunt, even if it was successful. 

Though really, she didn’t think it would bother Zoya that much. Hard as steel Zoya, who never let anything get to her. But on Sunday, she bursts into Alina’s room, interrupting her studying. 

“Okay, I know you hate me now or whatever, but at least let me tell you that I’m sorry. I didn’t know how much you liked him, Alina. Not until Genya told me.”

Alina closes her book, frowning. “Genya told you?”

Zoya nods and sits at the end of her bed. “Recently, when I told her about Nikolai and that I was thinking about cutting things off with Mal. Don’t be mad at her, just be mad at me.” 

“Well—” she starts, but Zoya cuts her off. 

“And honestly? The worst part is, part of me did know. I saw the looks you gave each other, but I brushed them off because I was selfish and enjoying myself. I was a really, really shit friend to you, and I’m so sorry, Alina. You don’t have to forgive me, but I just—

Zoya stops mid-sentence, cut off by the laughter bubbling out of Alina. 

“Saints, I never thought I’d see the day that Zoya Nazyalensky grovels.” She shoots her a grin. “I accept your apology. And as much as I want to hate you for your meddling stunt, it worked, because we definitely spent the night making out. I just did the whole silent treatment to make you suffer a little.”

A moment passes — Zoya is completely still, too still — and then she grabs one of Alina’s pillows and smacks her with it. “You little rat!”

Alina only laughs harder, fighting off Zoya’s pillow attack with her hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say sorry non-sarcastically! You did so well, Nazyalensky!”

“And you’ll never hear it again! You’ve lost apology privileges! 

Eventually, Alina moves into the living room to study, and Zoya joins her. When their brains need a break, Alina tells her about her date with Mal, and Zoya tells her about her own with Nikolai. If this is their new normal, Alina finds that she really likes it. 

~

The next week is outstandingly better than the previous. She’s back to talking to Mal each day, even more than before. Halfway through the week, he sends her a song with the message, This song made me think of you the first time I heard it, still does every time. It has her heart beating extra fast as she listens on her walk to class, not only because it’s incredibly sweet, but because Mal has played this song for her before, months and months ago, which means he’s felt this way the whole time. 

Early Saturday evening, Zoya announces that she’s spending the night at Nikolai’s. “He has his own apartment, so it just makes sense. I’ll be home in the morning, probably.”

Thank the Saints for rich boys. 

She texts Mal, and Zoya’s barely gone for ten minutes before he’s there. They make dinner together — well, Alina sits on the counter while Mal does the actual cooking, but he spends any down time kissing her, so she likes to think she was the moral support. They eat on the couch, watching their favorite trashy reality television, and play a few rounds of Mario Kart afterwards. Really, it’s just like how things were when they were simply best friends, except now Alina drapes her body over his as they watch their show, Mal’s thumb moving in slow circles on her ankle, and instead of talking or playing on their phones during ad breaks, they pick up where they left off in the kitchen, their lips pressed together in a blissful ease. 

They’re on their fifth game of Mario Kart, Alina in the lead, as she has been every round. She’s bragging about how she’s going to beat him again when suddenly her vision is blocked as Mal presses his lips to hers. 

Her surprise doesn’t stop her from dropping her controller and kissing back. She’s just getting into the kiss when Mal pulls away as quickly as he had started the kiss. He stands, and only then does she see he never dropped his controller. Picking up right where he left off, he steers Luigi towards the finish line. (“Who the hell picks Luigi?” Alina had asked him once. To which Mal responded, “It’s not fair people only care about his brother when he probably works just as hard at their plumbing business. It’s just like people only knowing Adam Levine and ignoring the rest of Maroon 5—” which led to a very cute rant that Alina spent less time listening to and more time staring at his lips while he was distracted.)

Alina fumbles for her controller, but it’s too late. Mal hasn’t come in first — some of the computers still beat him. But he’s beat her, which by the smirk on his face, was his only goal.

“You’re such a cheater!”

“It’s not cheating, it’s strategy.”

“I suppose you need your strategy, since you don’t have any skills.”

Mal raises a brow, a devious look in his eyes. “Is that so? Perhaps I should show you my skills, then.” He moves in front of her and kneels on the couch, a leg on either side of her body, essentially pinning her there, and kisses her again. 

Immediately, she can feel the difference from the strategy kiss and even the ones from earlier that night. He’s kissing with purpose, cradling her face with one hand, the other on her waist, and Alina is melting against him. She is putty in Mal’s hands, his to mold how he pleases. 

He’s holding himself so that his weight isn’t pressing down on her, but that’s exactly what she wants. Her hips buck up against his, and Mal pulls back to moan, “Fuck, Alina,” so she does it again.

“Please tell me we can have second date sex.”

Mal chuckles. “Are we even going to bother with the dating process?”

“I don’t know, are we?”

“I don’t know. Do I need to ask you to be my girlfriend?”

Alina grins. “I wouldn’t mind hearing it.

“All right. Alina, my beauty, my beloved, will you bless me with the honor of calling you my girlfriend?”

Her grin widens, and giddy butterflies dance inside her chest. No, not butterflies — fireflies. She can feel their warmth and wouldn’t be surprised if she was glowing from their light. “Oh, I suppose.”

Mal laughs. “I can’t stand you,” he says, and kisses her again.

Alina returns the kiss for a moment before murmuring against his lips, “You don’t have to stand me, but now that you’re my boyfriend, can you fuck me?”

He practically growls as he says, “Saints, yes,” standing and lifting her with him. Mal brings them to her room, kissing her the whole way. He unceremoniously shoves her school books off of her bed, laying her down and crawling over her. “You don’t know how often I’ve imagined this,” he murmurs, lips on her throat. 

“Tell me,” she gasps.

“Every time I came over, Alina. Every time.”

A shiver runs down her spine. “Even when you were here to—”

“Especially then.”

She has no idea what to do with this information. Her head is empty of thought save for the screaming need for more of him, so she pulls his shirt over his head. This time, Mal doesn’t stop her. Her hands roam over all the places she’s been dying to touch; down his back, tracing along his spine, up over his stomach, fingers running along the muscles of his chest, brushing over a few scars he’s accumulated through the years.

“You’re so perfect,” she whispers. Smooth in some places, rougher in others, but so incredibly warm everywhere.

Mal tips her chin up, kisses her lips once, hard, and then another to her jaw, down her neck, her collarbone. Then he’s the one tossing her shirt aside, his lips continuing their decent. He’s pressing soft words into her skin as he kisses her — beauty, beloved, cherished, my heart —murmuring his love for her even as he brings her nipple between his teeth.

“Shit, Mal,” Alina breathes. Her hips keep bucking, far beyond her control. He chuckles, murmurs something along the lines of no patience, and quickens his pace. Soon enough, he’s got her undressed completely — which isn’t too unnerving after the shower incident. Any lingering nerves flee once his head is between her thighs. She’s suddenly very thankful Zoya isn’t home, because even though it’s never been a problem during sex before, she absolutely cannot control the noises she’s making — and she’s loud.

Mal returns to her with glistening lips. She kisses him and tastes herself, a thrill better than any rollercoaster. Her hands move to the waistband of his pants, giving a half-hearted tug. “Off.”

“So lazy,” he teases, unclasping the button on his jeans, tugging down the zipper. “I could always make you work for it.”

“Have mercy on me, Oretsev. I’m still recovering from the pleasures of your cocky mouth.”

He looks so proud of himself, she wants to kiss him just to wipe the smirk off of his face. “If you enjoyed my cocky mouth, just wait until you feel my—

“Do not finish that sentence.”

But then he’s pushing down his boxers, and all Alina can do is stare as the cock in question springs free. He’s fully hard this time around, and her thighs squeeze together at the sight. He watches her as she practically drools over his dick, his smirk becoming even, well, smirkier. She reaches out and curls her fingers around his length, giving him two quick strokes — both to clear the smirk from his face and because she so very much wants to touch him. 

“Fuck, Alina,” he hisses. He’s reaching for his jeans, probably to grab a condom from his pocket, but she grabs his hand.

“I’m on the pill, and I’ve been tested recently.” Of course, there’s still a slight risk. But it’s Mal — finally Mal — and she wants to feel every inch of him.

He pauses, then nods. “Okay.” Crawling over her, he takes one of her hands and intertwines their fingers. With his other hand, he grips his cock and drags the tip through her folds like the damn tease he is, eliciting needy mewling from her that he seems to enjoy. In her ear, he murmurs, “How do you want this, Alina?”

“I don’t want to be able to walk tomorrow.”

Mal chuckles softly, but the sound so close to her ear sends more shivers down her spine. “As you wish, moya solnishka.” My little sun.

She has only a brief moment to bask in the sweetness of his words before he’s slamming into her all in one go, anything sweet flying out the window. Mal keeps a steady rhythm while sucking on her neck, which is good, because all Alina can do is moan incoherently as her nails leave scratches down his back.

When he senses her getting close, Mal brings his finger to her clit, circling just right. “Saints!” she cries, and comes undone beneath him once again. But this time, she gets to watch him fall over the edge with her, his eyes so incredibly dark as he moans his release. He’s the only man she’s ever let come inside of her, and it feels very right that it’s Mal — she doesn’t want anyone else filling her like this, marking her in a sense as his spend drips down her thighs.

They stay like that for a while, foreheads pressed together, sweaty and sticky, but blissfully so. 

“So, is the sex still good on this side of the apartment?”

In answer, he dips his head and bites down on one of her tits.

“Shit, Malyen!”

“Ridiculous questions get ridiculous responses,” he teases, then wraps his arms around her, tucking his face into the crook of her shoulder. “You’re all I’ve wanted for two years, Alina, and this still beat my expectations.”

Smiling, she rests her chin against the top of his head. “Good. I would hate to have to start fucking in Zoya’s bed just because you like the airflow better there.”

“Smart ass,” Mal mutters, but he’s smiling. Then he says, "You know, this may not be my first time fucking in this apartment, but I’m still checking off a first tonight — of many, I hope.”

Alina rolls her eyes. “Yes, I’m aware this is your first time fucking me in this apartment, dumb ass.”

"That’s not what I meant, rude ass.”

She frowns. “Then what did you mean?”

He squeezes her hip. “It’s my first time spending the night.”

Her heart does a little jump in her chest, and she doesn’t even have it in her to tease that she hasn’t actually asked him to stay yet. But stay he does, though he gets her off a few more times before they pass out for the night — definitely beating her vibrator. One time it’s with his fingers, so incredibly long that she knows all her fantasies will involve the slender digits now. Another is after Alina murmurs about how filthy she is and that she really ought to take a shower. 

Mal waits long enough to join her that she starts to worry he hadn’t understood her intent. But then she hears his footsteps, and the shower curtain opens. There’s no bottle throwing this time, though she can’t say the same for the screaming. He steps into the shower, kisses her slowly, sensually, then pushes her back until she shivers from the feeling of cold tile against her bare skin.

“I meant to ask, you do know you have mirrors in here, right?” Mal murmurs huskily into her ear. She’s too disoriented with want to understand until he says, “I saw you staring at my ass last time.”

Then he slams into her, and Alina no longer has to imagine how it feels to be fucked against the shower wall.

akira for the character ask thing please!

Yes!! I’ve been wanting someone to ask me about Ren or Yu. After typing this though I feel like some of my opinions are kinda controversial 😅

Favorite Thing About Them

This is the question that keeps me from posting these quickly. There are too many things I love about these characters. It’s really hard to pick a favorite thing, so I’ll just talk about one of the many things I love.

Even though we know nothing about his life pre-game and he’s a silent protag, Ren’s still a really unique character while also being a normal, teenage boy. He doesn’t need to be weird or have an intriguing backstory to be interesting. He also feels like he could be a real person. And he’s hilarious.

Least Favorite Thing About Them

He’s mean to Mishima for no reason.

I wish he had more of a backstory. I want to know more about him and his life prior to the game. I think Strikers would have been the best opportunity to give us some more insight on his life, and I was really disappointed when that didn’t happen.

The way some of the fandom sexualizes him is disgusting. He’s a child.

Favorite Line

“I’m not the free labor type.”

brOTP

Ryuji!! They’re friendship is so pure 🥺

OTP

Shumako! I wish they had more fan art, they’re such a cute couple.

nOTP

I understand why people ship Shuake. I do not understand how people can say they’re “basically canon.” They’re not. Also, a lot of Shuake content I see portrays Ren as this super fluffy, sensitive, sweet catboy which is weird and so far from who he is. I think he’s portrayed this way to be a contrast to Akechi. I don’t think you should change a character’s personality just to fit your ship better or to create the ship dynamic that you want. Not all content is like this, but I’ve seen a lot of it. Also, also, Ren caring about his friend’s death doesn’t automatically equal romance. Of course, he was sad that Akechi died. They’re friends. Speaking of, Ren’s dream reality wish wasn’t for Akechi to be alive. People who are currently rejecting dream reality don’t get their wishes. We know this because the wishes of everyone else in the party disappeared when they started rejecting it. We also know that Ren’s wish was to stay in Tokyo forever (which you find out if you accept dream reality). Maruki said he brought Akechi back because he thought it was tragic. He never said Ren wished for it. Even if Ren did wish for it, that wouldn’t automatically equal romance. If my friend died, I would want them to be alive too. I know a lot of Shuake shippers are really defensive of their ship, so if you have the urge to argue with me, please don’t. I don’t have the time or energy to talk in-depth about their relationship.

Random Headcanon

Ren has a light country accent. In the stage play, Ryuji makes fun of the way he says a certain word at the ramen shop. In a manga, a stranger calls him “an idiotic country bumpkin.” The only way that stranger could have known Ren was from the country would be his accent.

Ren’s scared of heights. This is actually implied in the game, but not a lot of people know about it. When he goes to Tokyo Tower with Sumire, two of his responses are “You don’t mind heights?” And “B-But if we fall...” When he goes there with Takemi, he says his ears feel weird and his heart is pounding. She then asks if he’s scared of heights. If you choose to train, Morgana will tell Ren to stand on a chair and one of his dialogue options is, “I’m not good with heights.” He looks miserable on the roller coaster in the animation. At Dometown, Ryuji says he’ll protect Ren on the roller coaster and starts teasing him saying “you better not cry on it.” When asked if he would rather go to Hawaii or LA, Ren can say Leblanc. Ann will then ask if Ren is scared of airplanes.

He is not athletic. Like not in the slightest. Ryuji, Sumire, Takemi, and Kawakami all point this out. In the manga, Ren says he was late due to his “poor physical condition.”  Sumire never tells him “good job” after training, she always says “good effort.” In a manga, Yusuke said he wanted to capture suffering then asked Ren to exercise. In Dancing, Ren thinks this while in Makoto’s room, “The weights are labeled 4K...Almost nine pounds. Really!?” While in Akihabara, Ryuji says the exercise machines are really expensive. If the player chooses to say he wants one, Ryuji says even if Ren could afford one, he won’t use it and it’ll just collect dust. Ryuji also tells Ren, “You gotta be more active.” After Takemi says a lot of students have been getting injured due to sports she says, “Well, I guess a kid like you doesn’t have much to worry about that...”

His glasses are real. I know it’s confirmed that his glasses are fake, but I really don’t like that concept. Most people don’t wear glasses, so they won’t help him “blend in.” They’d do the opposite- if they did anything at all. And that “intense gaze” thing doesn’t make much sense either. Have you seen his portraits? His facial expressions hardly change, and he has so much hair you can barely even see his eyes. I also just dislike the “intense gaze” trope in general. I like having a character with glasses who isn’t a nerd, genius, or old. Your eyesight has no impact on your personality, so Ren - who is also the main character btw - needing glasses would be cool.

Since he wears a lot of black and is always with Morgana, he probably has cat hair all over him.

He doesn’t have a big stomach/appetite. He tends to react judgmentally to how much Sumire, Ryuji, and Ann eat. When he was asking around Yongen-Jaya to see if anyone knew Futaba, a man asked if Ren eats a lot, and after you respond the man says “you don’t eat a lot?”

Ren’s a picky eater. Makoto asks Ren if he’s an adventurous eater and his dialogue options are basically no. He says, “yeah, sometimes”, “not really”, and “it depends.” When Jose asks if your tastebuds change as you get older, both of Ren’s responses are no which makes me think he won’t try anything he disliked once, even if it was years ago.

Since he’s from a small town, Ren gets lost a lot. There’s actually a manga where he texts Ann, “I’m lost. Send help.” Ann asks if he’s bad with directions, and he - distressed- says “No...Tokyo just takes a little getting used too...”

Ren’s late pretty often.

Since he’s from a small town, he’s a slower walker than some of the other characters.

He’s terrible with names. He asks for Kamoshida’s name three times, when Kawakami says Niijima wants to speak with you he has the option to ask who that is, the dialogue options for telling Ryuji Mishima’s name, the text bubble never changes from principal and Haru’s fiancé even though the player knows their names, he forgets Arsene’s name in a manga strip, he forgets Eiko’s name, and in Q2 one of his dialogue options is there’s too many names.

Unpopular Opinion

I’ve seen a lot of people complain that Ren didn’t seem to have PTSD after everything that happened in the interrogation room. I’ve also read things like, “There’s no way he doesn’t have PTSD.” That’s not how PTSD works. PTSD doesn’t care what you think “should” or “should not” happen. Traumatic events can trigger PTSD; however, not everyone emerges from trauma with it. Headcanon all you want, but saying it’s wrong that the game didn’t give him PTSD isn’t right.

Song I Associate With Them

Criminal by Brittany Spears

Wildcard by KSHMR

Good Kid from The Lightning Thief the Musical

Make It Up by Sam Tsui (this song also gives me major Percy Jackson vibes)

Still Feel. by Half•Alive

Favorite Picture of Them

I have two!

Yandere boys as dads

I've got a dozen of asks wanting a pregnant y/n or the boys being dads sooo let's do this thing

This story contains: wholesome dad stuff, talk of breeding kink and breastmilk kink *cough* salem *cough*

Theodore

When you told him you were pregnant he actually started crying

"you're..we're..sweetheart that's amazing!"

He's been dreaming of being a husband and father since he was a child

Makes sure to take care of you during your pregnancy he's at your beck and call

He is very nervous about doing anything intimate with you so you are on a strict no sex ban for nine months

Even when he cuddles you he gets super scared

When you finally have the baby he's absolutely freaking out

He prepared for this though so he is not too badly scared

Definitely the type to talk to the child like it's a grown adult

Has huge dreams for his baby like yale or law school

Of course he will be a supportive parent no matter what

Definitely not used to having to be silly so it's a bit of a challenge

"um, theo what are you doing?"

"reading edgar allan poe"

You stared at your husband who was currently reading such a thing to your six month old baby.

"sweetie there are baby books.."

Theo closed the book before locking eyes with you having a serious gaze on his face.

"I refuse to read my child a book that uses the word awesomest its either more awesome or awesome."

"theo that was on-"

Theo simply cracked the thick book back open with a slight pout on his face.

"I refuse [y/n] I absolutely refuse"

You felt the urge to choke your man child of a husband, you were pretty sure your child was more concerned about trying to eat the book.

Hikaru

He definitely will be shocked if you tell him you're pregnant

Will be all tsundere about it but you know he's happy

"w-what?! You idiot! Were you on the pill? Ugh! Fine we can keep it"

The minute he is away from you he's grinning and crying.

He's also super scared though cause he comes from a huge fucked up family

During the pregnancy he is super protective of you and the baby

No leaving the house and no getting up from bed

"sit down damn it! If you break a bone I'm killing you!"

As a father..he's great

Definitely spoils his child in riches

Everything from clothes to toys is expensive

He wants to give them the absolute best

Definitely is a bragger and a PTA dad

"remember sweetie if a commoner walks up to you they are usually dangerous"

"papa what's a commoner"

Hikaru smiled as he painted his three year old's nails deciding to give them a make over while you were out.

"well, a commoner is someone who doesn't have any money like us they are below us on the food chain"

"hikaru..."

The feminine male twitched at the sound of your voice and glanced back only to see you glaring at him. Having a child with you has definitely made him respect you far more to the point where his degrading is usually light and slightly harmless.

"what did I say about calling people that infront of them?!"

"I'm only being honest like you're a filthy commoner yet I still married you, doesn't that say something about how I feel?"

You wondered how much was his life insurance incase you blacked out and one day killed him.

Prince

He nearly catches a heart attack when you told him you were pregnant

He hasn't been hooking up with anyone or drinking too much since he's been with you but he still doesn't expect it

"p-p- pregnant?! You're kidding yeah?!"

The first few days he is flipping out but after it settles he does quite well

He definitely has no idea what to do when you start having mood swings and stuff like that

He tries his best to please you

He still definitely wants to do it at though

He will be pouty the entire nine months if you deny him

As far as being a parent he tries his hardest

He definitely matures a lot more but is still the silly guy like always

You walked into your child's room only to see prince's hair in many ponytails which made you hold back a laugh.

"trying a new style babe?"

"not funny [y/n], but yes I am"

Prince flashed you a grin before he reached to touch his hair only to feel a tiny hand slap it away

"not finished!"

Primce let's out a long sigh before giving you a pleading expression now wanting your help but you simply turned away.

"have fun!"

"[y/n]this isn't how you treat your husband!"

You ignored prince's outburst and figured he can handle his own child giving him a makeover.

Axis

When you told him you were pregnant he was so happy

"we're going to have a baby? I'm so excited!"

But then it hit him

He won't be able to see a child

Won't be able to see their first steps or how beautiful they are and he gets upset at himself

He gets a little depressed but he still helps you out during the pregnancy

He is terrified during the whole pregnancy

He breaks down when the baby is born

Hearing them cry for the first time really snapped him out of his depression

His first worry is if the child is healthy

As a parent he definitely wants to spoil his child but he's also deathly over protective

He always let you know that he loves his family

You let a long sigh as you walked around the hluse looking for both your toddler and husband, you heard hushed whispering in axis' art room so you walked there only to find axis with the three year old in his lap and was teaching them how to paint.

"art is about feeling, though I guess we can talk more about that when you're older!"

Axis let them paint whatever they wanted though randomly he covered their eyes earning a giggle

"daddy! I can't see!"

"yeah, try paint now hmm? Not so easy huh?"

You rolled your eyes at his antics but you noticed his shaking hands before realizing what was going on..he was checking their eyesight.

"it's lunch time guys"

Axis perked up at your voice and turned to you with a smile though it was definitely strained, he was nervous about something but you didn't push it.

Yuki

He definitely wasn't expecting pregnant to come out when your mouth talked to him

His reaction was a shocked expression

"oh. I see"

What you don't know was that kids terrified yuki

He was scared of his child being as fucked up as he is

He is definitely supportive though

He gets his first tattoo of his child's name on his back

Him as a parent is very interesting

He is wrapped around his child's finger

Whatever they want he will absolutely do

The want snacks? He got it. They want to play pretend? He'll play for hours

He Is quite protective or both you and his child so the first year of their birth he didn't want to leave your side or theirs either

He just wants to be a happy family.

"having fun yuki?"

"mhm.."

You held back a snort of laughter at the sight of yuki doing a tea party with your four year old, he had so much glitter in his hair he reminded you of a disco ball.

You were glad he was entertaining them but you simply couldn't help but laugh at his appearance. He had stickers all over his face and was wearing a bright red tutu

"join us."

You gazed at him with a nervous look, he planned this. Before you knew it you were roped in as well now with a long sigh

"the things we do for this little demon"

"mhmm..more tea?"

Salem

Let's be real here salem got you pregnant on purpose cause of his breeding kink

When you told him the news you had to spray him with water to keep him from pouncing you

Your pregnancy is very sexual with him around

He definitely has a breast milk kink so he uses you a lot during your pregnancy for that

To a point where you're worried about being dried up

He likes to talk to the baby while you're asleep or just laying down

When the baby does come you're terrified about him being a parent

He is a good parent actually..he's weird but good

He acts like a child himself so it's quite fun

He is still an insane mess but it's toned down slightly

He is glad his child is normal and nothing like him in terms of personality

"salem!"

You glared at your husband as he and your four year old shoved cookies in their mouths while hiding under the kitchen table. Salem nearly choked and simply flashed a huge grin

"you were taking tooooo long! Couldn't wait!"

"they are going to think it's okay to eat snacks whenever they want"

Salem stuck his tongue out at you before your face flashed red at his next words

"I eat snacks whenever I want [y/n]~"

You yank the two of them from out the table before you simply roll your eyes.

"how about we have another kid?"

You choke at his words and glared at him only for him to wink at you, this clearly wasn't up for discussion in his book you two were having another child

Billboard #1s 1984

Under the cut.

Yes -- "Owner of a Lonely Heart" -- January 21, 1984

The full version of this song is way too long. Not surprising from a former prog rock band. The music is good and interesting, but it loses me before the end even in the shorter single version. There's too much stuff. As for the lyrics, maybe that prog rock gloss made people think they were profound, but they look like self-help. Some incredibly 80s Reagan-era individualism, better to be alone than to be hurt, you're the only one you can count on, blah blah blah. Not for me. 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

Culture Club -- "Karma Chameleon" -- February 4, 1984

The video to this song has nothing to do with it, unless there's supposed to be a connection between the con artist on the fantasy world 19th century steamboat and the guy who keeps coming and going whom Boy George is singing to. And I didn't fully realize the "you come and go" double entendre until just now. I like the video, anyway. And I like the song quite a bit. It's a very cheerful-sounding song about being strung along by some asshole.

Van Halen -- "Jump" -- February 25, 1984

Van Halen was something boys were into. It's weird how we delineate these things. At least back in 1984, if it got coded as a boy thing, then if you were a girl and also found it interesting, you'd damn well better hide it or certain other more socially powerful kids would tear you to shreds. That was my experience, anyway. (And if other girls were into it and you were not, you were also in serious trouble.) So though when I heard Van Halen songs I thought, "hm, I'm intrigued," I did not dare pursue that interest. Except for this song. This one was allowed. It's fun.

Kenny Loggins -- "Footloose" -- March 31, 1984

Footloose is a pretty good movie. At least I remember it being so when I eventually saw it in college in the 90s. Anything that stands against censorship, and for art and people having fun, already has an in with me. Also Kevin Bacon's great. The song isn't about the movie particularly; it's just about how dancing is wonderful. Though there is a hint at the movie: "You're playing so cool/ Obeying every rule/ Deep way down in your heart/ You're burning yearning for some/ Somebody to tell you/ That life ain't passing you by/ I'm trying to tell you/ It will if you don't even try." Yeah. Agatha Christie at one point lamented that young people in the 1950s were far too serious and self-righteous, and really needed to go dance in fountains. I feel the same now as she did then. Though wait until after the covid vaccine's been widely taken. Anyway, this is a good dance song.

Phil Collins -- "Against All Odds (Take A Look At Me Now)" -- April 21, 1984

It's a lament about being dumped. Apparently, Collins wrote it about his wife leaving him out of the blue, taking the kids and the dog with her. Ouch. There's a great drum part, which keeps the song from being too boring, but I still don't like it. Phil Collins' serious love/heartbreak songs don't do it for me. I find this one depressing without being cathartic.

Lionel Richie -- "Hello" -- May 12, 1984

I remember this video from when it was on the air. Mostly because of the Lionel Richie clay head. But also because I was like... is she his student? Isn't that a bad thing? Even though she's an adult in college, I still thought you weren't supposed to do that? I've had a major squick against teacher/student relationships, even in fiction, since I was a kid. Possibly this is because I come from a family of professors. (I didn't get a PhD and am therefore the black sheep.) Without reference to the video, the song is terrible. The lyrics are just repetitive cheese, whatever, but the song is so slow and blah and I don't like Lionel Richie's singing.

Deniece Williams -- "Let's Hear It For the Boy" -- May 26, 1984

I keep being surprised that there are people who think someone is worthless if they don't have a lot of money and don't dress fashionably. In this song, the titular boy also can't dance, but is that a thing that people get dinged for in reality? I don't know, maybe. This song was in Footloose, and it's the same sentiment as "My Guy"; her boy isn't some smooth-talking rich brat, but "he's my lovin' one-man show." He's like Edward Ferrars, not Willoughby. It's a fun song.

Cyndi Lauper -- "Time After Time" -- June 9, 1984

This is one of the greatest songs ever. Not just pop songs. Any song, of any type.

Duran Duran -- "The Reflex" -- June 23, 1984

These lyrics make no sense. That doesn't matter for this song much, which is all about the music. Which is not the best of Duran Duran's music. For all the many, many, MANY different musical ideas in it, it's actually kinda boring. They'd have done better to simplify. I imagine this sounds something like cocaine feels, though drinking way too many Mountain Dews to pull an all-nighter's my only comparison. Duran Duran were never my favorite, but I do enjoy many of their songs. This one, meh.

Prince -- "When Doves Cry" -- July 7, 1984

Prince only two songs after Cyndi Lauper? Is it my birthday? The song's lyrics start out being about the amazing chemistry between the narrator and "you." That establishes why they're together. Then Prince moves on to how they "scream at each other," and it's what it sounds like "when doves cry." He's accusatory -- "How could you just leave me standing/ Alone in a world so cold?" But then he goes right into thinking maybe it's his fault: "Maybe I'm just too demanding" etc. It's a sexy, thoughtful, and anguished song about a relationship in trouble. I like to think they'll overcome their problems and stop screaming at each other. Trust me, it's very possible. Also the music is great.

Ray Parker Jr. -- "Ghostbusters" -- August 11, 1984

Um. I have no idea how to evaluate this one. I heard it first in the theatre when I saw the movie, but I heard it years after every week when I watched the cartoon. It just... is.

Tina Turner -- "What's Love Got To Do With It" -- September 1, 1984

I have an overwhelming memory of hearing this song when I was alone in the grocery store as a teenager. I have no idea why the memory's so strong. Maybe it was the first time I went to the grocery store by myself? Maybe I ran into a guy I had a huge crush on, though I don't remember that? (If I was 16, that could have been one of any three guys... Romance is my secondary aspiration, after all.) In any case, it's a good song. The attempt to pretend love is a bunch of chemicals and doesn't truly matter is a pretty common one for the broken-hearted. And Tina Turner's great as always.

John Waite -- "Missing You" -- September 22, 1984

Two songs in a row about being in denial over matters of love. Interesting. This isn't the most fascinating song ever, but it's a good solid song about heartbreak that isn't gloopy at all. In the main vocals, Waite keeps insisting "I ain't missing you," but in the background is a soft voice that sings "missing you" over and over. That's a smart artistic move.

Prince and the Revolution -- "Let's Go Crazy" -- September 29, 1984

I liked a lot of pop music when I was 7, but I didn't get Prince. His songs sort of slid out of my brain as a "thing for grownups," and who could understand grownups? He was short and wore fancy outfits, and that's about all that registered. When I hit puberty, though... yeah. This song is more adult than that, though, and I don't mean sexually, though there is plenty of sex in this song. "You better live now/ Before the grim reaper come knocking on your door." The song is about sex, partying, and death. Also Prince was an astonishing guitarist, along with everything else. It's not one of my favorite Prince songs, because the lyrics are pretty depressing and it's super loud, but it's still great.

Stevie Wonder -- "I Just Called To Say I Love You" -- October 13, 1984

I never really listened to the background beep-de-boops in this song before. I've wondered before why this song, with its simple lyrics and melody, didn't bore me. It's the beep-de-boops. They, along with Stevie Wonder's perfect delivery, make this song musically complex. And the simple lyrics, with the more complex musical counterpoints, absolutely work. It helps that this is the kind of thing people really do.

Billy Ocean -- "Caribbean Queen" -- November 3, 1984

That heavy breathing after the line "I get so excited just from her perfume" is unfortunate. Otherwise, it's a song about how he met this "Caribbean Queen" on vacation and she "tamed" him so he's no longer looking for "love on the run." Sure, why not. I'd like a little more story to it, but that's me. It's got a good beat though, and is enjoyable enough as-is.

Wham! -- "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" -- November 17, 1984

I just realized I don't like this song. The beat and hook are sort of irresistible, and as a dance song the music absolutely works. But there's too much nostalgia about stuff that George Michael actually wasn't old enough to be nostalgic about. He was only 21 at the time, born in 1963, and yet he was singing about Doris Day. You can homage anything at any age, but... meh. And speaking of age, it's kind of a childish song and George Michael's voice was always more on the mature end, even if he was young at the time. For me, it hits a jarring note.

Daryl Hall & John Oates -- "Out of Touch" -- December 8, 1984

The beginning makes it sound like this is gonna be a relatively hard rock song, but that ends after a pretty short time. It's still really loud, with huge drums, and Hall pretty much shouts the song. Hall & Oates were great when they stripped stuff down. All this noise doesn't work for them. There are neat parts when all the noise suddenly stops and there's total silence, but then it goes right back to the rather uninteresting loudness. Not for me.

Madonna -- "Like A Virgin" -- December 22, 1984

And so it begins. Backstory: Madonna went to the same high school as my mother. She was friends (maybe more? he won't talk) with one of my uncles. When my grandmother saw the Like A Virgin album on the rack at the store, she said, "I'm so glad [he] didn't marry that girl." When my mother told me that, my reaction was "Are you kidding? We'd be rich!" But my family cares about PhDs and not money. My uncle ran wild in high school, but eventually became a successful career diplomat (and stopped being a jackass) after the woman he was in love with told him he'd better shape up or else. Also he looks a lot like Guy Ritchie, so that was weird for a while. I'd be in the grocery store and for a second think, "Why's my uncle on The Enquirer with Madonna?"

So anyway, the song. The way Madonna sang it in later iterations, I like it. I can't stand the version that became a #1 hit. The Betty Boop voice is just ugh. I love a lot of Madonna's music, and she would be something of an inspiration to me in later days, with her unapologetic persona as a woman who liked and wanted sex -- and enjoyed shocking the censorious -- but I was 8 at the time. I didn't get any of it, I just knew she sounded squeaky in this song and it bugged me.

BEST OF 1984: "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper. WORST OF 1984: "Hello" by Lionel Richie

In a Parallel Universe

Could it be... fluff? The happy, uplifting tone of this can entirely be credited to Mustafa as a muse. I truly believe the man should be held up as an example of how to be a good human and how to be masculine without it becoming toxic. (The way he is treated by WWE, much like that other paragon of positive masculinity Sami Zayn, is something I can angrily rant about another time.) 

Pairing: Mustafa Ali x reader (platonic)

Word count: 2,659

Content advisory: Racism/ racist language

“Did you ever have a thing for me?”

Your eyes widen in shock as you look back at Mustafa, your best friend, wondering if you’ve heard him correctly. He’s looking at you with those big, ingenuous eyes, as if he’s just asked you if you’ve decided what you want for dinner. In all the time you’ve known each other you’ve never once brought up the subject of romantic interest or physical attraction and yet here he is, just throwing it out there. 

You’re watching your daughters collaborate on a colouring project that might as well be “Guernica” for how seriously they’re taking it. 

The bell-like laughter of his wife and mother-in-law is drifting in from the back patio where they’re taking some much-needed time alone together. 

You’re waiting on your husband Jake, who’s already sent four apologetic texts about how the Saturday he’s been called into work keeps dragging on, promising that he’ll be there as soon as he can, but that he doesn’t expect you to hold up the barbeque just for him. (Even though he knows you will.)

You laugh a little and squint at him, as if what he’s asked is somehow ridiculous. But it’s not ridiculous. Two heterosexual people who’ve been close friends for so long… it would almost be weird if there hadn’t been any sexual tension. Nevertheless, you think of just rolling your eyes and blowing the subject off. It would be easy enough to do. But his unwavering earnestness has always demanded respect and honesty and it’s possible that he knows the answer already. You certainly do. 

“I guess,” you begin, aware that your voice is wavering a little, “early on. I had a bit of a crush.”

Is that the truth? In as much as feeling can be summed up in so few words, yes. It wasn’t like you’d been pining and crying yourself to sleep at night, but sure, you’d felt it. You’d approached him to ask if you could train with him after the two of you had worked a few of the same local shows where the wrestlers outnumbered the audience members. Yes, you’d been beyond impressed with his skills but you’d also noticed how very, very cute he was.

“I mean, everyone did,” you assure him. “All the girls liked you.”

Not all the girls had your confidence or your desire to really break in to the wrestling world, though. So you’d been the one to steel yourself and walk up to him at the gym one night and ask if he’d help you. It was a calculated risk, you figured: he could refuse, he could give it a shot and get bored or irritated and walk away, he could help you become a better wrestler even if he wasn’t interested in more, he could feel your skills were hopeless but also decide you were attractive enough to pursue, or he could want to be both a training partner and something more. Five possible outcomes, three of which worked in your favour. You’d always been clever with numbers and the numbers clearly gave you a better than even chance of a positive result. 

He laughs shyly and looks down at the idea that “all the girls” had found him attractive. It’s not that he’s ever been insecure about his looks and charm, exactly, but he’s never been the sort of arrogant prick who’s assumed everyone must be in love or lust with him. And that’s always been part of his charm; confident enough not to seem needy but humble enough to appreciate the attention. 

Of course, you’ve always been a little surprised that he doesn’t have more of an ego. The luscious mane of black hair, the smile that could power a small city, the toned body that never crossed into that lumpy, bulgy look that too many of your counterparts developed, and most of all those huge, soulful eyes… The man was infuriatingly flawless and even now it’s not like you are immune to the occasional whisper of desire.  

“Shit. I never did anything to hurt you, did I?”

And then there was the personality. Mustafa had always been too great of a guy to be real. He’d been your rock. Whenever things ground you down, he was the one who could build you up again. When you got angry and depressed at the state of the world, he’d commiserate but he’d also be able to give you hope, if only because a world that produced someone as awesome as he was couldn’t be all bad. 

You could honestly say that without him, you’d never have fought your way out of the indies and into the big leagues. That wasn’t just because training with him made you a stronger, better wrestler. It was because the two of you had been able to lean on each other when things were rough. And damn, things had been rough at times. 

When the two of you had graduated from bar shows for disinterred old men drinking watered-down beer and playing slot machines, you’d been beyond excited. The shows you got invited to took place in gymnasiums and legion halls and church basements with actual audiences who had come specifically to watch the wrestling. You knew it wasn’t the big time; you were excited, not stupid. But it was progress and a lot of people you knew hadn’t even made it that far. You’d grounded yourselves by talking about your meager pay and by calculating how much you’d earned per bruise at each show. 

One of the larger, or at least more successful promotions that had booked you had provided an eye-opening experience. The promoter was a corpulent man with a mouth full of lumps that barely counted as teeth and breath to match. He’d called both two of you aside a few hours before your first show to tell you the gimmick that he had in mind for the two of you. It had come as a bit of a surprise because although you were friends, you’d never teamed up in the ring. You’d reveled in being the foul-mouthed heel, while he had, of course, been a natural baby face. (And if you were honest, so few people knew who you were that your characters hadn’t ever mattered.)

“I wanna do a thing with the two of you,” the promoter began, sweat already dampening his forehead and staining the armpits of his cheap shirt. “You two are gonna be like a pair of terrorists. You can fight all the American guys- and girls- and get them over with the crowd. Get the audience riled up.”

The two of you had stared back at him in horror, jaws slack. 

“I’m thinking something like ‘Osama and Elle Qaeda’ for your names.” His brow furrowed as he processed another idea. “Can you come up with some shit to yell in Arabic?”

You remembered thinking that it must be some kind of joke. Al Qaeda and Osama bin Laden were products of the Arabian Peninsula. Mustafa’s parents were Pakistani and Indian. Yours were Kurds from southern Turkey. Not one of your parents even spoke Arabic. But more to the point, the two of you were American. You were both born and bred in Chicago. Neither of you had any hint of an accent. Why couldn’t you just be normal? 

The promoter looked at you impatiently. Mustafa recovered his voice enough to stammer through an explanation of your ethnicity, only to be greeted with a look of supreme indifference and boredom. 

“Look,” he said sharply, “it doesn’t matter. You have the look. Around here you’re all sand ni-“

Remembering that night still hurts. The pain has dulled over time because at the moment he’d said it, it felt like you’d been shot in the chest. For a few moments you’d been afraid that you were actually going to vomit. Growing up in a racially mixed area, your features and your family name had been ambiguous enough that people thought that people usually guessed that you were Greek or Italian before they got to Turkish or even broadly Middle Eastern. You’d been proud to declare that you were descended from the little-known but courageous and resilient Kurds. But out here in the wider world, you were an Arab and therefore a terrorist. The Indian subcontinent, birthplace of so many cultures, arts, religions and philosophies, crossroads of empires, might as well have never existed. Mustafa was an Arab and therefore a terrorist. 

Seeing what he perceived as hesitation, the promoter scowled at both of you. “Give it a shot,” he counseled. “It’s the only way people are gonna take you seriously.”  

You and Mustafa smile at each other, as if you’ve both been recalling the painful judgments you’d faced together, as if you’re amazed you survived let alone flourished. You’d pulled each other through. 

“I’d always kind of wondered if you’d ever liked me,” he says shyly. 

Yes, you think, you had. You were a tall, muscular girl. It had made sense that you work with a male training partner. So he’d been happy to work with you and you were thrilled to be able to learn from him. You felt yourself improving every time you practiced together. But your mind had often drifted to how it would feel to have his arms wrapped around you in other circumstances. More than once you’d been tempted to close the scant distance between your lips just to see how he’d react. 

“I liked you,” he adds, eyes snapping up to see your reaction. 

You do your best to mask your shock. “You did?”

“Sure. C’mon, look at you.”

Your mouth feels a little dry. The sounds from the patio have faded and even the children have fallen silent. 

“Maybe not right away because I thought you were kind of scary, to be honest,” he chuckles. “But after we’d been hanging around, I don’t know, about a year or so, I really liked you.”

You can’t help but laugh at the idea that you were scary. Maybe you’d thought you could be scary to some of the smaller, less experienced women you’d fought. But to someone on your level both skill-wise and vertically? No. 

“I’m serious. I wasn’t desperate or anything but I remember thinking a lot about what might have happened if I’d made a move.”

You wonder about the math in your head. You hadn’t entertained those thoughts about him for all that long. Sure he was hot, but as you’d risen through the ranks together, he’d quickly come to seem like a brother. The idea of the two of you being a couple had started to seem weird. You’d thought about it less the longer you spent together, so it was strange for you to think that as you’d gotten over your initial crush, he’d begun thinking of you in that way.

Your shared reverie is interrupted as his little girl climbs into his lap, sour-faced and frustrated that she’s running out of brown crayons. The work of art that your girls are creating relies heavily on earth tones for the ground, for the tree trunks and bushes, and, you note happily, for the different faces of the people occupying the epic landscape they’ve made. There are all sorts of shades of people and there just aren’t enough brown crayons to build the different tones. 

Your daughter purses her lips in a look of stubborn determination you’ve come to know all too well. She’s grabbed red crayons, orange crayons, yellow crayons, green crayons, whatever she can get her hands on to colour in her people. She’s as upset as her friend that there aren’t enough browns but she would never let on. As ridiculous as it seems, you’re actually a little intimidated by just how headstrong she is. Now that she’s learned the alphabet, she seems like she’s about ready to move out and start kicking ass. 

She casts a quick glance in your direction and you have to hold back a gasp at her fierce, beautiful eyes. Looking at her face, you’re gob smacked by the idea that something that gorgeous came out of you. It’s like looking at the sun. It’s even stranger to think that she could be the product of the wild, all-encompassing lust that you and your husband had- still have- for each other. How could something that seemed so deliciously sinful produce something so perfect?

You glance back at Mustafa, whose attention is now completely absorbed in his daughter’s lecture on the need for more brown crayons. She’s articulate far beyond her years and you hope beyond hope that years of school won’t convince her to hide her intelligence the way girls of your generation did. 

It’s possible that there was a time when your desire for Mustafa and his for you overlapped, that there was an opening when the two of you could have touched lips and fallen into each other as if nothing else in the world existed. The two of you would probably have been a power couple in the industry. Your dazzling combination of skills would have been irresistible. With the way your families have come to love the both of you, it’s likely they would have moved beyond the cultural differences that absolutely do exist, no matter what some ignorant arsehole might have told you when he insisted you were both Arab terrorists. 

And it is most definitely possible that the two of you would be sitting in a living room just like this, embracing as you observed your children colouring or playing video games, or chasing each other around with rubber swords, or, worst of all, trying to emulate what they saw their parents doing on television. And perhaps as you watched, you’d look at each other and touch lips with all the tenderness in your souls and you would be filled to the point of bursting with happiness. 

But then there would be no…

There would be no Jake, the man who made you realize what true, unadulterated love really was. You would never have had someone make you laugh the way that he can, make you laugh so much that your ribs ache for hours. There would never have been the man who taught you how to curse in Irish or how to snowboard. And you would not have your daughter, so filled with her father’s sarcasm and stubbornness. 

For that matter, you would never have had Mustafa’s wife as your friend. When Jake had been hit by a car while riding his bike to work, you would not have had her comforting arms and her voice to pull you through the agonizing days when doctors cautioned you not to be too hopeful about his prognosis. You would never have had that feeling of someone strong enough to hold you up yet tender enough to nurture you through the pain. 

A few hours later, the gang of you are gathered around the picnic-style table in the back yard. Mustafa, his wife, her parents, you, Jake, his brother who’s been run ragged by his job more than any of you, and, of course, your children. You’re all laughing so hard that it’s a legitimate danger that the neighbours will call the police with a noise complaint. You make a clever joke and Jake, impressed by your wit as he always is, presses a light kiss against your neck. You feel the familiar thrill move through you, suddenly thinking that it’s time to wind things down and head home. Just for a second, your eyes connect with Mustafa’s and there is this perfect, still moment when you can see that there could be an alternate universe where the two of you would be together, something that might have been better or worse or neither. But then the moment is passed, and you’re once again back in this universe with the lives that you love.

Daddys little whore ¡teacher!frank iero smut

Tw.daddy kink,very sexual,alchol .

Frank, Mr iero, frankie , sir , mister , the cool music teacher, the dude that you met at a gig , punk rock 25 year old man who acts like he's 19 . Those are many names that describe Frank iero my music teacher , the one who stole my heart on the first day of freshmen year .

I'm a senior now so I've had a crush on the man for quite a long time.

Of course you can't say he's the sexiest teacher, I mean there's Mr Way out art teacher , Mr Toro our math teacher and

Mr Way number two aka Gerard's brother aka Mikey or our English teacher .

I'm probably the closest with Mikey and Frank , I mean don't get me wrong I still think that Gerard and Ray are cool it's just that. I tell Mikey everything and Frank is the funny teacher that every student adores .

I want to do one thing before heading off to college , and that's hooking up with him .

Yeah that's my plan you heard me.

I've been dressing in some more reviling clothes , I'd wear matching lace underwear with a bra that I had bought specifically for this occasion .

Sometimes I'm in my room alone touching myself to the thought of him and what those tattooed hands could do .

Today I was most definitely gonna get his attention .

~~~

I hurried to Mikey's class knowing I'd be late , I spent the whole night on tumblr and reading some NSFW fics.

Gotta love tumblr .

I put on my normal uniform it's just that I put on knee high black socks , a chain to my usual plaid red skirt , then my Converse and finally a black hoodie that on the sleeves wrote

'Daddy's little whore'

With nothing beneath it .

I was gonna hit it off hard .

I opened the door to English as I spotted Mikey in his chair and the students writing some essay or something .

"Morning Mikey , sorry I'm late" I called him by his fist name witch he never liked , but I was practically his best friend so i had a pass .

"Morning y/n take a seat and if you're late again btw this is the fifth time this week , I'm gonna give you detention got it "he said still glued to his papers .

You see Mikey has gotten suspicious , especially cuz I started to dress like a slut .

I'd usually tell Mikey the details about my crushes and how they look like and so on .

And he'd tell me to go ask him or her out .

But I didn't tell Mikey about Frank , I simply can't . He's his best friend and band mate , I can't just straight up say 'hey I like my music teacher I want him to bang me against his desk and call me his dirty little slut '

Hell nah

So I decided to keep it to myself.

Well mostly myself.

I sat down next to my blond haired bestie and gave him a side hug .

"How's it going my man " I told Patrick

He smiled , turning away from his work .

"Hey there n/n , I'm good " then he looked at my outfit

"Trying to impress ireo again ?"

He whispered, I nodded and took off his fedora to ruffle up his strawberry blond hair .

He scratched his face up and snatched his hat away from me adjusting it .

"By the end of the year I'm gonna smosh with him " I chuckled lightly as the fedorable tiny human smiled at me .

"Y/n , you know that Anthony and Ian put the copyright struck on the word 'smosh' so use it carefully " Mikey said smiling at me .

"It's ok y/n !" Ian yelled across the classroom as Anthony put Ian's hand down and smiled at me before getting back to work .

In a flash the bell rang and all the students left the classroom .

I waved at pat and turned around to face Mikey's hazel eyes .

"Soooooo any new crushes huh y/n "

Mikey wiggled his eyebrows at me as I rolled my eyes at him .

"Yeah" I said fiddling w the sleeve of my hoodie .

I could hear him whisper a small 'yes' and punch the air . I giggled and sat down next to him .

"So tell me all about them " he said taking a sip of his coffee on the table .

I nodded as I tried to think of a way that I can describe Frank to Mikey without him knowing .

"So he's a bit older than me , and has this black hair that is always greasy but it makes him look good and hazel eyes but they are a bit more on the green side then brown and he's covered in tattoos and ugh imagine what those tattoo covered hands can do " I went on and on. Pausing a couple of times go take a deep breath.

"Uh-huh so he has hazel eyes and black hair and Is covered in tattoos.....that sounds like frank" he knit his eyebrows together and sent me a confused look .

Then realization hit him and his face turned from confused to a shocked one .

"Holy shit you're in love with Frank that's why you wore all those slutty clothes it's because of him " he mumbled as I looked at him in panic I thought he was gonna tell me that I'm weird and that I'm some kind of weirdo that falls for way older men .

"You have next class with him , holy crap you need to hook up " he said looking at me  with a smirk , I smirked back and he gave me some advice on him and how to get him easily .

***

I left Mikey's classroom and skipped lunch to hang out with my friends .

As usual we climbed up some tree and sat on a branch while gossiping about teachers and other people

Oh don't forget the part where we smoke and Pete brings booze so we get pretty much wasted before class .

"Come on Patrick it's just a bit of alcohol , don't be a pussy "I slurred as Patrick looked at the bottle and shook his head .

"Pat , Patty , Trick , my best friend come on man get loose " Pete said as Andy and Joe stared at Patrick in amusement .

"I told you guys I'm not drinking " said the blond as he pushed away the flask that Pete shoved in his face .

I sighed looking over to Pats orange juice , I smirked looking at Pete and handing it to him .

"Oh yeah " I whispered as pat was too interested in looking at Ryan Ross and Brandon Uries painting that was hung up inside the school .

Pete poured a good amount of booze in Patrick's juice and winked at me .

***

I heard the bell ring and headed to music .

My time to shine.

I smirked to myself as I entered ieros class .

"Morning Mr Iero "

I smiled at him and his hazel eyes as he looked me up and down eyes glued to my knee high socks .

"Morning y/n , I see you changed up your look today " he smirked at me and my stomach flipped .

I turned pink as I put my hand on his chest rubbing the fabric of his thin dress shirt .

"Yeah , yeah I did the uniform was too old fashioned for me with all those boring clothes" I said as I took a seat .

Frank explained something to the class and I listened carefully , not to him but his voice of course .

It was so stern and husky and god darn sexy .

I pressed my thighs together , I was dripping and I needed some attention now .

I got up from my seat and swayed over to the door as a hand grabbed my wrist .

"Y/n"he said sternly , obviously annoyed by my behavior.

"Yes Mr Iero " I turned to face him .

"Did I say you can leave the classroom ?"

His eyes filled with filth as I started becoming more wet down there .

I shifted in my place and shook my head .

"Detention , see me after class "

I did it , I thought . Taking a seat on my chair and nodding innocently .

Throughout the class Frank has been giving me looks and winking at me from time to time .

It made me wanna jump on him and rape his ass.

***

All the students left the class leaving me with Frank .

I was exited knowing what I'd get for being such a bad girl .

"I'm aware that you know better then not to disobey me sweetheart" he purred as he stood up to look me in the eyes .

"You know bad girls like you get punishments ...." he whispered in my ear as he planed a kiss on my neck .

"Girls like you get to be fucked against the wall for not listening" he took my wrist and made me stand up .

He then forced my lips to his as he put his hands on my waist and I put mine on his chest .

I pushed him on his chair and strangled his hips . His nails dug deep in the skin on my thighs as his tongue danced with mine in the war for dominance .

He moved to my neck to leave open mouthed kisses on my neck , nibbling and marking what's his .

"Oh baby how I dreamed of this moment" he purred against my neck as I took off my hoodie .

His eyes bugged out seeing that there's nothing beneath .

"Aw sweetheart dressing up for me , how nice of you " he smirked and moved to undo my bra .

He yanked it on the desk as he moved to grope them , he took one nipple in his mouth and nibbled making me moan .

He grinds himself on me , his erection obvious.

"Wanna blow me baby ?" I melted in his embrace as I lowered myself on my knees and carefully unzipped his slacks and slid them down .

I palmed him though his boxers as he groaned bucking his hips.

I pulled his boxers down for his erect bud to spring free , as I looked at him hungrily and pressed my tongue against his tip spreading pre cum.

I took him in and bobbed my head as he groaned and slowly fucked my mouth .

He pulled on my h/c locks and moaned , sweat forming on his forehead as his dark brown hair stuck to his skin .

I moaned against him causing to him buckling his hips again and making me gag .

He pulled out his stiff cock , a bit string of drool stuck to it connecting my swollen lips to him .

"You did so good baby , such a good girl". He smirked and lifted me up to his hight , pressing a kiss to my lips as I moved and strangled his hips once more .

He reached under my skirt and moved my panties to the side , his fingers brushing against my wet folds making me moan .

He smirked his hazel orbs filled with lust as he lined himself up with me .

"Now sweetie , are you going to be a good little slut for daddy and let me fuck this tight little pussy in peace or are you going to disobey me and be a naughty little girl" he growled as I nodded .

"Use your words baby "said the brunette as I whimpered . Squirming under his touch .

"Yes sir " I said on the edge of a moan his voice was beyond sexy and I was dripping .

"Perfect "he shot me a smirk before slamming into me , I bit my lip trying to to cry out in pleasure .

A muffled moan escaped his lips as I bounced up and down his dick .

I shifted my hips for him to hit the g spot. As he suddenly hit it , I shut my eyes as squeezed them trying not to moan .

The room started to smell like sex as he was making the most beautiful sounds .

I couldn't hold it anymore and just moaned out in pleasure as he looked at me and dug his nails in my his harder.

He started to twitch as my thirsts became sloppier.

"Y/n - fuck -"he groaned as I reached my orgasm .

"Fuck!" We yelled in sync as we both came , I squirted all over his cock while. A hot liquid ran down my thighs .

He pulled out and patted against my shoulder as I stood up trying to find my panties. The stuck out of the pocket of his dress pants , he put on his boxers and stood up .

"You were very well behaved today miss y/n , you have been excused from math class and I hope you have a lovely day " he said as I headed out the door , suddenly he spanked my ass and left a kiss behind my ear .

"I'll see you sir "

"Hope this happens again "

"The feelings mutual"

***

I chuckled to myself as I entered art sitting next to Pat again .

"You wouldn't believe what happened " I whispered as he turned to me and took out his earbud.

"What " he smiled sending me a confused look

"I accomplished my goal "

I said proudly as his eyes went wide .

He was about to say something as Pete cut him off .

" you hooked up with Iero WHOOO "

Pete fake wiped his tear

"I'm so proud of you , my baby is finally gown up " .

Hi boiz so that was it , like I said PLEASE REQUEST MY BRAIN IS EMPTY JUST DO IT .

Thanks for reading .

Hiya! Not sure if you do this, but would you be able to suggest some non-ao3 finished frerard fics? It seems I've read ao3's entire collection 😅 Thank you so much, you're honestly my favourite blog on here xx

Thanks for your kind words, Nonny! And... congratz on reading the entire ao3 tag, there are a lot of works there :D

Frank/Gerard is such a popular ship that I was actually able to find quite a lot from outside ao3.

Non-AO3 Frank/Gerard

Thing-Thing by sinsense, 43k, NC-17. When Gerard signed the admissions paperwork for the Fordhaven School for Boys, he knew he was signing up for four years of sexual frustration. No one was gay at Fordhaven. Gerard was all-too-aware that he would be a virgin until he graduated. In his senior year, though, this stupid gay freshman disproves Fordhaven's straightness, and throws Gerard's entire world off-kilter. Now, in between drawing, avoiding bullies, running an incredibly serious tabletop RP game, failing out of math, and hanging out with friends, Gerard is also busy kind of falling for this asshole who's way too young for him. It's not what he planned on, but it's what's happening. In conclusion: high school sucks.

I Think I Thought (I Saw You Try) by thatsfinewithus, ~3,000, NC-17. Welcome to some weird AU world in which Gee only does awesome comics and Frank is a vampire.

They Came From Outer Jersey! by thatsfinewithus, 25k, R. New London Fire is an elite fringe government force assigned the task of protecting the earth from some of its more interesting threats: those from beyond the atmosphere or even the universe. They've handled dangerous cases before, but they've never seen anything like...ZOMBIES FROM SPACE. Vampires, long hunted in lore and legend, are now the earth's only saviors. There is little information as to who sent the creatures until Mikey Way, head of the NLF, finds out more by being abducted. Is it too late for him? Is it too late for the earth? Find out how six vampires, one government general, and one frustrated comic book artist save the earth in...THEY CAME FROM OUTER JERSEY!!

I never told you what I do for a living. by not0_fuckin_kay, 60k+, PG-13 to NC-17. Frank Iero, male nurse at Pete Wentz's private hospital and possibly more to one new patient he can't keep his eyes off of. When a new pateint is brought in with amnesia, just days before Christmas, and with nothing but the clothes on his back and a strange drawing, it's left to Frank to find out who he is and what happened to him. When he does, it changes Frank's life forever, as he's thrust into love and health scares he never thought would complicate his life. This is the story of how he tries to make it through, juggling his job and his love-life and just trying to make things better. With Patrick the doctor, Bob the ward supervisor, Travis the unlikely therapist, and Mikey, the sometimes wannabe homicidal geek.

Of All The Hidden Corners by moneyes, ~44K, PG-13. An epic, adventurous tale filled with alternate universes, lords, mischief, magical powers, snark, boyfriends, and luck of the bad kind.

All We Are by lightisbreaking, 21k, R. Set in the future, where humans are on the brink of evolution. For the select few born with a special awareness of their own minds - an awareness which gives them abilities beyond the norm, life is suddenly a very dangerous thing. Frightened of what this could mean, the government set out to make this new race of humans extinct, telling the public that these people are mentally unstable defectives and must be kept under observation for the safety of the public. All of this brings together a rather odd troupe of people, hiding from the government and eventually having to protect one of their own when he's taken into custody. Superpowers AU!

Tell Us a Story by bexless, imogenedisease, 32k, NC-17. The world as these kids know it is ending, and Gabe Saporta is throwing the party. High school AU based on the movie Can't Hardly Wait.

Stay Right Here by idktbh, swagneto, 28k, R. Frank is involved in an accident which renders him paralyzed from the waist down. When Frank begins to withdraw into himself, his relationship with Gerard crumbles and the band faces the hardest decision they'll ever make: whether to continue playing or not. This is a story about how MCR copes with the biggest obstacle of their career so far.

Return to Spirit Lake by inpurity, 22k, R. Gerard Way has left Spirit Lake when he was eighteen to study to become a veterinary surgeon, and with no intention of ever coming back. Twelve years later he is back, carrying secrets of a life spent away from his family and friends, and the weight of a dark, painful sorrow. His old home town has not changed, but his life, and the lives of the people he will meet along the way, will never be the same.

These Friday Night Lights by faux-disco-sins, 21k, PG-13. Gerard is the head cheerleader and wears the cheer skirt, Frank is on the football team, Pete is the school mascot, Ryan is the school’s hobo journalist, Jon does photography for the yearbook, Spencer and Patrick are in the marching band, Gabe and Ray are AV techs who do a ESPN spin-off for the school, Bob is the big scary lineman, and Mikey tries to fit in while ignoring the fact that his older brother is wearing a skirt in public.

Of Love And Superpowers by mcrnut, 20k, NC-17. Seventeen year old Frank Iero is in his last year at Mutant High. He has a couple of good friends, is doing okay in school and even though he has some issues with his Mother, life is pretty great. That is, until one day, when he overhears some of the professors talking about the well-known Anti-Mutant organization HSA and how they have already broken into two Mutant Academies and are heading their way. Frank and his friends have to stick their heads together and try to solve the mystery, and as if Frank didn't have enough to think about already, he finds himself falling for his friend's older brother, Gerard.

Cypress Grove by slashxyouxup, 24k+, NC17. My Chemical Romance fight off a town of sperm hoarding, men hating, PMSing maniac women in order to save themselves from certain doom! Also, Frank and Gerard get closer than close while pretending to not be completely in love with each other. Mikeyway is not amused.

Sleepwalker by lyrical_tragedy, 73k, NC-17. Frank Iero is one of the best cops in New Jersey so it’s only natural that his boss dumps a seemingly unsolvable case on him and his colleague Bob Bryar. With no leads whatsoever Frank enlists the help of Gerard Way, a reclusive young man who experiences strong visions and dreams of events from the past and visions of the future. However, none of them could ever begin to expect the terrifying chain of events that come into play once they delve deeper into the unknown, questioning Frank’s very beliefs on what the world actually holds. A story of visions, sacrifices, over protective brothers and love all in the midst of the attempted destruction of the world. The devil’s got your number and he will come calling, until it’s nothing more than hell on earth.

Patience Is A Virtue (You Might Be Good Looking, But You Can’t Sleep With Yourself Tonight) by eflorentino, 22k, NC-17. Frank Iero’s biggest hero is Gerard Way; the outspoken, obnoxious lead singer of the multi-platinum selling band My Chemical Romance. His world changes completely when he finds himself suddenly shoved into the limelight, playing sell-out shows every night and earning more than his usual $6 an hour. However, the infamously homophobic frontman isn’t what Frank expects, and after mixed signals and unsolved revelations he learns that, with Gerard Way, things are never simple.

But Nobody Cares If You're Losing Yourself by red_ones_fly, 16k, NC-17. It took me a while to work out that there was something wrong with Gerard, he kept it hidden well and, really, he didn’t even know something was wrong with him. To him it seemed like normal, everyday stuff. He never found any of his behaviour out of the ordinary. To him it was just reality.’ After Gerard's grandma passes away his behaviour becomes strange. He becomes less outgoing and more paranoid. As Frank tries to work out what’s going on with his friend/love interest, between school, learning psychology and dealing with the jocks, he doesn’t realise just how bad it is.

Parks and Recreation by vinvy, 35k+, PG-13. Gerard Way is an art school drop out with no prospects, student loans to pay off, and a dead end job. His mother works too hard and his little brother Mikey is keeping secrets. His boss runs shady contracts and smiles too much. It's nothing special and he tells himself that he'll learn to make peace with that- in the meantime he's got to carve out a living that doesn't involve artwork. Really, he's going to be okay. Then a crazy homeless kid comes along and screws up Gerard's Adventures in Normal Employment with his hippie magic and soulless eyes. Gerard can't shake the feeling that this guy "isn't quite right" but he's too busy fending off the freak accidents that are following him around to worry about that particular winged freak.

Empire Boys by noctecaelum, 30k, NC-17. In the city that never sleeps, it's tough to get your foot in the door. While Gabe Saporta may find it easy to blend into the socialite scene; Gerard Way spends his day blending eyeshadow at Bloomingdales. As newcomer Frank triumphs in Women's Lingerie, Gerard sparks a bitter rivalry in the vicinity of Lexington and 59th; but there's no use crying over spilt coffee because things are about to fire up. Meanwhile, on the Upper East Side, Gabe Saporta is none too pleased to read a socialite-bashing article, but when confronting the writer, he doesn't expect to meet fresh faced, pretty-boy William Beckett, who turns out to be the biggest tease this side of the Downtown Dunkin' Donuts.

The Evolution Index by theficisalie, 32k, NC-17. In a world where superpowers are just another thing that can get you sent to boarding school, Frank Iero and his friends know what it's like to operate under heavy levels of stress. After all, they did spend their formative years under the wings of the United States Government's most widespread and successful initiatives; a program that was created to protect and train young Americans with superpowers to become functioning members of society. And, as a side-benefit, the government realized that not only were telepaths great at taking drink orders, but they could also be trained to be highly successful secret agents. Under the guidance of Frank's volatile and (literally) power-hungry boyfriend Gerard Way; Frank, Mikey Way, and Ray Toro are an accomplished team of super spies. When a handful of people from Frank's sordid past crop up during an investigation of rash Superhuman disappearances across the country, the team finds themselves challenged both on and off the field as they fight to solve the mysteries plaguing their beloved nation. Frank knows all too much about uncovering things that he'd rather keep hidden, but can he and his team unravel the intricate web of crime and kidnapping surrounding Chicago without losing themselves in the process?

A Good Ocean Gone Wrong by xoxxblitz7, 32k, NC-17. Titanic AU - The Way's are one of the richest families in America and sometimes being an artist requires the need to travel. On the doomed maiden voyage of Titanic old friends are found, new love is formed and put to the test and the most luxurious crossing of the Atlantic ocean becomes a fight for survival.

A Fanfiction (In Which Gerard Has A Secret Stash of Star Wars Fanfiction) by sparklefap, 10k, R. Frank finds Gerard's bizarrely erotic Star Wars fanfiction, and is both disturbed and aroused by it. Those feelings won't do for Frank. He seeks revenge.

[Jonghyun / Taemin] After the Fire

Prompt: A is a struggling writer going through a creative block, until B literally crashes into their life, claiming that they are a modern-day muse.  Rating: R-ish(?) Warnings: some explicit descriptions Length: ~10,000

Summary: Drawn to danger, I burned my own house down.

(Written as part of the Winter of SHINee fic fest. Please go support all the entries there)

------

“... we thank you for your manuscript and applaud your efforts in completing another book. Unfortunately, it is not quite in the vein of what we are looking for. Please stay in touch for…” 

In Jonghyun’s eyes, there is only one way to construe the letter—your stuff isn't sexy enough.

He knows the standards the publication house upholds. When he’d first applied to write for them, presenting a short story full of elucidated gasps and pants and whatnot: he’d done his research. The other writers and their works are miles apart from what he could ever produce. Those books are too salacious, too irreverent for him to match.

So, he knows there is a yardstick, and that he is required to be faithful to it, if he must help retain their astronomically high readership. 

Honestly, though… the only reason Jonghyun writes erotic literature is because it is easy money. 

Coming straight out of college, he first tried his hand at working for obscure webzines. That was a very weird, isolating experience. His colleagues were constantly embroiled in intellectual and cultural debates, the likes of which a man of his upbringing could never participate in—the elegance of noir films, the chaos of punk history, the artful French New Wave. Not only did these subjects evolve outside the barriers he grew up between, the webzines’ subscribers were largely foreigners, rendering a monolinguistic man like him… well. Useless.

Following this, he’d done a stint at small, virtually unknown publications. He’d written largely ignored thought pieces for national papers. He’d even submitted the less embarrassing specimens of his attempted poetry to the Metropolitan office of which, none were imprinted on subway doors. Yet.

To the interested employer, his CV reads like a grocery list of jobs: I did everything I possibly could with my mediocre talent, just so I could earn a living. And he doesn't mind that—encourages that thought, in fact. It is Jonghyun's earnest belief that only by downplaying his past professional experiences will he ever get a step ahead, climb a rung higher. It is also Jonghyun's earnest belief that dream jobs do not exist and, in this economy at least, settling is a good idea when you have qualifications as meaningless as his. 

So no, he doesn't turn any work down. Nothing is beneath him. And that attitude has led him here—to writing cheap erotica for easy money.

Except, Jonghyun hasn't a single erotic bone in his body. 

He is a man, most certainly. Red-blooded as they come. But something about writing down the act, about describing it in the most colourful and drawn-out details... femininity must surely be a prerequisite, he thinks. To notice the way that things look or sound or feel or taste in those short moments. To recreate that passion, that ecstasy, that urgency with paragraph upon paragraph of meticulous and explicit narration: one must need a very observative mind. Or a hyperactive imagination. Because something that lasts just a few minutes from his perspective, can only be recreated with such intensity if it were a woman on the other side of the pen.

So no, Jonghyun doesn't do sexy. Despite having penned three short novels, all with the reluctant perusal of internet porn, he doesn’t do sexy. He doesn’t do softcore, he doesn’t do taboo or wild or… anything, really. He just isn't capable of indelicacy like that. He reasons he can probably try romantic, but that’s not what this specific job entails, does it? No, and the letter is good evidence of that, he realises, stowing his last manuscript away for recycling. 

 Where sexual depravity is concerned, Jonghyun is running on empty. And if things don't change soon, his bank account will too.

------

His mother doesn't know, of course. She thinks her poor son, her youngest baby, is so deeply mired in the nine-to-five that he doesn't even have time to visit these days. Writing is time-consuming. Writing entire novels, even more so. He doesn’t tell her what his job is, though. He keeps it vague. I’m working at an office. I’m working for a big company. I’m working in a building on Saemunan-ro.

As common a name as Kim Jonghyun is, a pseudonym is useful in many ways, he realises. He doesn’t get strange calls from distant relatives, demanding what the hell does he think he’s doing, while ignoring the fact that they went looking for erotica in the first place. He doesn’t have his young cousins approach him with was that really you, hyung? or can we get an early copy of your next one? His friends and ex-associates don’t have a clue. He would like to keep it that way: Minho already gives him a hard time about growing into an old shut-in, if he had the faintest idea of what was going on behind those closed doors and drawn curtains… Minho would no longer be a friend, Jonghyun wagers with shame.

Even so, the question of inspired writing—if he can call it that—still remains. Rather, the question of how he will pay next month’s rent, how he will settle the stack of overdue power and internet and water bills, still remains. Seoul is an expensive city to live in by oneself, and he cannot move back under the same roof as his mother and sister, not with a scandalous job like this. 

At this point he has no way of stimulating his mind without resorting to stealing from other writers. 

And so, the idea of a fan-meeting event is a sort of lifeline. He figures it could help if people show appreciation for his work: even if those people are wild-eyed and pimple-faced oily young men who should be ashamed of themselves, his morality yells wordlessly. But he is no one to judge. And if they prove to be a motivation, if they can help him get out of his block, then all the morality in the world can go to hell. 

The event isn’t as clandestine as he imagines it to be, either. Outside the venue is a board yelling out a “SHIN YUN BOK PUBLICATION AUTHORS’ CONVENTION”. The doors are wide open. The sound of chatter, the smell of food, the murmur of excitement, all floats out to the lobby just outside. 

When he enters, his face obscured by a surgical mask and a large pair of sunglasses, the place is packed. A man is on stage, calling out polite directions for crowd control. Jonghyun recognises him as his employer. Or at least, he is the guy who interviewed him over a grainy skype call late one night. He self-consciously checks his disguise and walks deeper into the fray.

A semi-circle of tables is arranged around the hall, each nominated to a writer. Upon studying the occupied seats, Jonghyun’s premise is solidified when he realises eight out of ten appear to be women. Somehow, this information impresses him.

When he ducks under the ropes and is stopped by a security guard, he points at the only empty table in wordless explanation. Some awkwardness ensues: a request for ID, a weary denial on the basis that pseudonyms aren’t on any ID, a quick consultation by text message, an unenthusiastic “OK, sir. This way, please.” Soon after, Jonghyun has taken his place and assumes the target of many pairs of staring eyes in the room. Some point and snicker, some watch him awestruck, some even take photos. Selcas! Like he is some sort of celebrity! He feels uneasy and oddly vulnerable, fidgeting with his sunglasses as they threaten to slip on the sweat beading his face.

But when the doors are finally shut and the event declared open, Jonghyun’s jealousy soars.

There are lengthy, winding lines of people waiting to speak to nearly all the other writers--but not him. No one approaches him. Not for the first ten minutes, not for the next half hour. In spite of all the staring from before, no one wants to speak with him. No one is interested in getting his signature. 

It is only now, at such a place and such a time, that a series of paranoid questions fills his head. Does anyone read his books? Does anybody like them? Is he not popular? Is his work insignificant, even in circles like these? 

If the number of people dying to speak with the others is anything to go by… then no. Jonghyun is not in the least bit popular. 

He overhears his neighbour chuckle to say things like, of course there is a sequel coming out or yes, I based that character on myself. There are squeals, there are gasps, there is enough veneration to drown Jonghyun in self-pity. Suddenly, he wishes for that love and admiration. He wishes someone would ask him interesting questions and expect fascinating answers; dote on him just the way they dote on the rest of the panel.

His jealousy is poisonous enough that it spreads through his blood. His eyes burn with it, his pulse throbs against it, he feels it bristle in and out of his nostrils with every breath. His sweat begins to sting. His solitude starts to prick. His confidence dwindles to nearly nothing. The weight of envy makes him slide lower and lower into his seat. He plays with his marker and acts nonchalant. Acts like he is unaffected. But in truth he feels like crying. He feels like going home. He feels like quitting-- 

When his latest book is suddenly slammed onto the table, he yells and jumps a foot off his seat. Eyes turn to him again, this time with thinly veiled distaste rather than disinterest. He looks up at his assailant to find a lanky young man donning fashionable sunglasses and equally fashionable clothes. 

“Sign, please,” the guy says in a tone that borders on demanding. 

------

What surprises Jonghyun isn’t the fact that he has a “fan” in someone like Lee Taemin, as he introduces himself later. It is more astonishing to him that other people immediately follow his example and accost Jonghyun with copies of his work—some that look well used and dog-eared to the point that he is afraid to touch them. More and more readers who claim to love his writing flock over, while this Taemin character stands by. Silent, watchful, critical. 

As he doles out autograph after rushed autograph, Jonghyun can’t for the life of him understand how the situation reversed itself in the blink of an eye. 

“Uh… thank you?” he expresses uncertain gratitude. “I was. Surprised.”

“Mm hmm, so what do you want to do next?” the guy counters, folding up the sleeves of his baggy tee-shirt. The crowds have long dissipated. Security has rounded up all the stragglers, even the rowdy ones trying to get too close to that overly popular writer who went by the penname of Eonsook. But no one seems bothered by Taemin. No one cares that he is still here, still engaging in lazy conversation, going at his own pace. Everything about this is so peculiar. Everything is the opposite of his expectations.

“Well, I was about to go home and eat dinner, so—”

“I meant,” an exasperated look berates him. “What do you want to do for your next project?”

There is no answer for that. Jonghyun doesn’t plan these things out. He sits in front of the screen and starts to pour things onto it until he realises none of it is usable. Then he gives up. Rinse, repeat.

But he is expected to answer now. He is expected to say something rooted in a fully formed thought. He is expected to answer this man, this person who appeared out of nowhere and somehow managed to single-handedly create the interest Jonghyun was looking forward to. So, is there also an expected answer? Is there a right and a wrong response? Should he take the question as a cue to say something else, something scripted for such interactions? He doesn’t know.

He settles for a vague, “Uhm, is there anything in particular that Taemin ssi likes to read?” If he has learnt something from his time writing about politics, it is this: the best answer to a difficult question is another question.

An indifferent shrug replies. “Don’t really care. As long as there’s sex in it.”

He’d make a great politician, Jonghyun thinks as he starts to gather his things. “Well. I’m sure you’ll find plenty to satisfy you, then,” he gestures around them at the nearly vacated hall. 

The man on the stage waves to him, he waves back. They will probably speak on the phone later on, and Jonghyun will bombard him with questions.

“But I like what you write,” Taemin continues, drawing is attention back. Physically holding his chin and turning his face so they are looking at each other again. “I want you to write more. Much more. A series!” there is a hint of excitement on those puffy lips.

Jonghyun knows not to aggravate people like him. People who are probably more dangerous than they appear to be. He takes a cautious step back. “I… I wish I could, sir. But you see—”

“I’ll pay you to do it.” A sure motion pulls an expensive-looking wallet out. A wad of cash is counted before nearly all of it is set onto the table. “An advance. I’ll give you three times that when you’ve finished the first draft. How about it?”

He stares at the fan of ten thousand won notes. Rent, he reminds himself. You must pay rent by the end of next week. But what the hell is he going to write?! “Sir, I’m… I’m really very sorry. I don’t have any plans to write the next book and. And I’m not even sure what to write so—”

“I’ll help with that,” Taemin insists. “You need ideas, I’ll give you all the ideas you need. I’ll… I’ll be your muse,” he decides.

Jonghyun stares for a long uneasy moment. Where is security and why aren’t they doing anything? he wonders. He takes another step to back away from the weird man. But the money is right there, perfect bright green rectangles that seem to have come fresh out of the mint. The overlapping portraits of Sejong the Great are all pleading with him to be pocketed. Just say yes! the king is shouting out, even in that placid gaze. You don’t have to follow through, just take the money and run! He can’t find you, anyway!

No. That would be disingenuous. That wouldn’t be right. No matter how desperate his situation, Jonghyun would never resort to thievery. He shakes his head and stays his hand, making no move to accept the money.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help you, Taemin ssi,” he bows and rushes off.

------

Their story begins and ends at Namdaemun.

She looks at its sombre face, artillery fire still marking some of its masonry and disrupting the course of the story. Their story. It is the gate that reaches out for a hug, she thinks when a cold wind picks up and threatens to swoop her shivering self away. It is the gate that offers an embrace, arms angling out from its stiff middle, like a father consoling his sad and broken child. How odd it looked in its place. How quaint, to be the only survivor of its own story. No more kings roam under its elegant archway. No more guards train their arrows from the pagoda. No more tigers rustle nearby under the cover of trees, desperate to find a meal.

This gate… this thing. It shouldn't be here. But someone has shown it their kindness and tended to it; fed it with mortar and concrete and newly painted timber. Someone has seen fit to breathe new life into it.

Their story begins and ends here.

She met him once, then many times, upon the tufts of grass framing Namdaemun. She met him and with every meeting the distance between them diminished from feet to inches to barely anything. She met him, met all of him, met every place on him with every place on herself. His hands would smell of spice. Of coal and heat and rain… perhaps he tended to a garden in their time apart. He had the gentlest hands. When he touched her, they felt like lamps against her skin. His warmth would intoxicate her.

Maybe he was made of fire, she would wonder in the hours they lay next to each other, breath stuttering and pulse racing. Maybe he was a jinn.

“You’re not small enough to fit in a lamp,” she would tease him when they'd stumble over each other.

In her loneliness, she’d dream of him, floating on clouds made of cotton. She'd imagine him traveling from land to unknown land and sea to unending sea. She would imagine him soaring, his skin burnished and his eyes like bronze.

But he is long gone, now. He has left her side and his hands warm someone else's days. She is the survivor of her own story. She is a stiff gate looking for someone to embrace, someone to comfort. She endures, just as Namdaemun endures. They stay and they wait, the gate and her, in the hope that someday there will be a finale to their respective stories.

And then they will breathe a unified sigh of relief.

------

Jonghyun supposes it would’ve been wise to expect a second meeting.

He is still shocked when the time comes: a buzz from downstairs, a murmured excuse about routine maintenance, a knock on the door that sounds far too eager to be just pest control. 

When he opens the door to find the familiar lanky frame, he panics. There are no more disguises obscuring the distance between them now. Each man is plainly visible to the other. Jonghyun feels caught. Trapped, like a wild animal hunted until metal teeth closed around his leg. He frantically searches for something to hide behind, forgetting that he could simply shut the door again.

The creepy man named Lee Taemin invites himself in. He saunters casually, ambling the length of the hallway, looking around the room and humming, appraising it, measuring it. Measuring Jonghyun, who is still shocked and unable to react in a way that protects him.

“Wh-what’re you—?!” he begins when some of the shock has worn off.

“You don’t make a lot of money, do you?” Taemin cuts him off. “Why don’t you accept my offer? I’ll pay you plenty. More than you’ve probably ever seen. Then you can move out of this dump.” Even as he says this, he runs an appreciative hand over a row of books. “I can help you realise all your dreams, you know?”

“How did you even find me?!” Jonghyun counters. 

“Does it matter?” the other drawls, shaking his head in exasperation. He swings his arms around himself as he walks, and when his palms meet, he lets them clap together. Like he’s out on a relaxing stroll in the park. Everything about the setting is preposterous. “I tracked you down, now I’m here, and I’m giving you a second chance. Isn’t that what’s important?”

He stares, trying to figure out this puzzle of a human being. What is this guy? How is he so at ease right now? What is this game he’s playing and why? Why with Jonghyun, of all people? Does everything out of his mouth sound like that? Like a simple fairy tale? I’ll do this, then you do this, then we’ll live happily ever after. Ridiculous!

He’s only ever seen people like that on dramas. Badly written and poorly acted dramas.

“Please leave,” Jonghyun requests, maintaining a formal tone despite all the peculiarity of the setup. “Or I'll call the police.”

Taemin clicks his tongue. “Not until you answer me.”

“Sir, I can’t be bought for no reason.”

“But I’m giving you a reason,” Taemin points out as if the concept is too difficult for Jonghyun to understand. Which it is. “I pay you, you write for me. I like what you write, I pay you to do more. It’s like…” he gestures, standing in the middle of the room, his stance oddly graceful and formidable at the same time. “Like when a king enjoyed an artist of his court and promised his patronage,” he illustrates. “That’s what we’ll be like.”

The smile on his face is a perfect representation of a magician’s. Maybe he is something of a trickster, Jonghyun thinks. Maybe he likes to put on a show and confuse people.

“The publication house already pays me,” he informs. 

“After you finish the book,” he is challenged. It isn’t a lie, but how does this guy even know?1 “And only proportional to the sales. I’ll pay you regardless. In fact,” Taemin points. “I want you to write these books especially for me. My eyes only.”

So that’s it? Jonghyun wonders. Just a rich kid feeding his own kinks? He scoffs and rakes through his hair, sitting down at his desk to think.

He decides to consider it, because yes, he needs the money. Yes, he wants to stop living in fear of sleeping hungry. Yes, he doesn’t want to be destitute at the age of thirty-one, before he’s even had a real relationship, let alone marry and have kids. 

But can he really uphold his end of a deal like that? Can he really write what this guy is expecting him to write?

“I’m not good at… at sexy things,” he finally declares, motioning with his hands as if to show they were empty. “I have to work very hard at it. I can’t do it the way the rest of the authors do, and—” he sighs, remembering the way crazed readers had flocked to everyone else’s tables. Remembering his sales numbers, and the words of the manager of the obscure bookstore as he complained about having to lug all the unsold copies back into storage.

Trash, he’d called them.

“Really, I’m not even sure why you came to me, when someone like… I don’t know. Eonsook? She’s the better choice, clearly.”

Taemin walks closer, his lips pursed like he is thinking of a convincing argument. Maybe he is, from the way his eyes are so focused and bright. There is an unbreakable determination in his every movement. He crouches in front of Jonghyun, sighing as he looks up. 

“Your first book,” he begins. “A story about a man with a delusion. That he is in love with a woman. They fight, then they grow close together. And then, the man is cured through therapy. But,” he clicks his fingers. “His delusion has been passed to the woman. Brilliant idea,” he compliments. “Excellent writing. And yeah, sure, the sex stuff left a lot to be desired but…” he shrugs. “I liked the story. I liked that there was more to look forward to than just two people going at it. And you wrote to tell us that story, not to satisfy my needs, I could see that,” he assures. “So why not do more of that?”

Jonghyun gives a soft laugh despite himself. “Because that book sold less than a hundred copies. And the feedback was dismal—”

“Fuck the feedback,” Taemin shakes his head, a frown creasing his features. He looks young; too young to be involved in disreputable matters like this. Or… maybe at the perfect age to waste his time on such prurient endeavours. “Fuck what any of them think. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“And you do?” Jonghyun doesn’t mean to be so standoffish but he cannot help it. Here is a stranger, coming out of nowhere, to validate him and say nice things about his pathetic attempts at writing. Here is someone trying to convince him that sales don’t matter, popularity doesn’t matter, even the adoration of the readers doesn’t matter. Then what does? Jonghyun confronts with a scowl. What does this guy know?

Taemin chuckles. “All I know is this. I like everything you write.”

------

“This world is built on supply and demand,” Taemin explains. 

He’s still here, hours later. By Jonghyun’s benevolence, of course. They are sitting on the floor, a laptop with a blank word document between them. The cursor is blinking… blinking incessantly. It taunts with each flicker.

Tell your story, Taemin said to him. Tell your story. Write it all down. Whatever you’re thinking of. It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as your put it down in words.

Easy to say. Because try as he might, he doesn’t know where to start. He doesn’t even have the shadow of a beginning, forget the middle and the end. There is no story in his mind, no words waiting at his fingertips. 

This is a waste of time.

Taemin continues regardless. “The readers of this kind of stuff... their lives are filled with disappointment. With reality. They want the impossible: sultry encounters, beautiful getaways, improbable scenarios. You see?” he signals like his words are shedding light on abstruse philosophical concepts. “They want what they can’t have. And writers like Eonsook understand that. They supply that demand. That's why she’s always making bestsellers.”

Jonghyun considers this for a moment, seeing some truth in those claims. He takes a look around his own apartment, eyes roving over the small desk and small sofa and small kitchen. It is a liveable space, he reckons. It is better than a half-basement, or a slum with toxic asbestos roofing and poor access. But he is aware that in the bigger picture, he is still poor. He is confined. He is restricted. He is at the bottom of a heavy and insurmountable hill. 

Disaffection comes easily to people like him. And short of being on the wrong side of the law, there is only one way to be at ease with his circumstances.

To pretend.

“But you? You fuck everything up,” Taemin carries on, amusement in his features. “You take that supply-demand model and turn it on its head. You say, I decide what I'll write. I decide what I produce. This is my art, not my bread. This is more than a paycheck for me. This is more than a popularity contest for me. That's what I see you think, and…” he shakes his head, chuckling as he reclines on his palms. “I gotta say, I find that really ballsy.”

A small balloon of pride inflates Jonghyun’s chest at the words, to his own surprise. He shifts and clears his throat. “Th-that’s all well and fine, but… but it doesn’t help that no one will read my stories.”

“Tell me something,” the other contests. “Why did you start writing in the first place? And—” he holds up a finger between them. “Don’t tell me it’s for the money. You could do anything and earn money. Why this specifically?”

“W-well, because… because what else am I going to do with a major in—?”

“No,” another shake of the head stops him. “No. Don’t answer from up here,” Taemin taps his temple. “This isn’t about rationality. This is about how you feel. About why you feel that way. Give me the answer in here,” he reaches forward and pokes a finger into the centre of Jonghyun’s chest.

He stares at the perfectly shaped fingernail, at the faint pink that dissipates into flesh below the joint. Why does he write? What compels him to scribble on stray pieces of paper? What makes him put his thoughts down on phone notes? What is it that surges in his chest when he’s in the shower, when he’s about to go to sleep, when he’s listening to a beautifully sad song for the first time? What makes him write? 

“I… I have a lot to say,” he concludes. It feels like an admission of guilt—freeing. Splitting the restraints he’d been struggling against for… perhaps, years. It is like a large weight has come off his shoulders and now he can stand up straight. Now he can float off the ground. Now he can fly. He sighs and closes his eyes. “I have a lot to say. About… everything. And I—” he shakes his head, looks up from the finger, glances at the blank screen, turns his attention to the face of someone who is listening. Someone who is here and who does not appear to be in any hurry to leave.

“I really want someone to listen.”

With a pleased smirk, Taemin tilts his head and nods. “So start talking.”

------

He wonders what sounds he would hear, if he were up on the moon. 

Would he hear the distant roll of waves? The rushing and ebbing of tides, their froth effervescent in the shell of his ears, their folding and retreating as sharp as the feeling of sand between his toes. Would he hear the occasional beep of a passing space shuttle? Would he see the face of another human in the window of the craft as it zooms past, their hands mirroring a wave and their faces reflecting each other's smiles? 

What would he hear in that vacuum? 

Would he hear the patter of his heartbeat, like water dribbling off a tin roof to roll along the eaves and fall against leaves, touch the ground, seep into the earth and become lost? Would he hear it speeding and softening like the tides, waxing and waning like the moon, repeating itself over and over, spinning like the earth does, like the stars do, like this universe does? Or would he feel an urgency in his lungs, the frenzy to drink in as much breath as he could, to gather as much oxygen in each inhale and retain it until his sight shook and his hearing went dissonant and he realised that he could hear nothing on the moon?

Nothing?

Maybe it would be hope. Maybe he would hear the sound of unfiltered sunlight hitting his skin. Maybe he would hear the whisper of a solar wind playing with his hair. Maybe he would hear his smile, his happiness, his joy even in solitude like that. Maybe he would hear something like that. Maybe it would be melodious to his ears, maybe he would dance to it, on the ashen rigoleth, the dead and cracked surface of the moon. Maybe he would float from crater to crater and find himself repeating circles, large ellipses that never ended. No beginning and no end. Maybe he would hear the most perfect sounds that ever existed. Maybe he would hear the sonorous representation of heaven.

Maybe the moon is full of music.

------

Jonghyun stretches his arms and arches his back, rolling his neck tiredly. The light outside his windows has dimmed by a large degree. The sun has gone down hours ago, without his noticing. He blinks and feels around himself to reach for a light switch. An afterimage of the laptop screen remains in his vision for a while as he stands on complaining legs and ankles. A grumble in his stomach alerts him of the time. Dinner time. 

“Taemin ssi…?” he calls out, rubbing his eyes. “Taemin—”

It takes him a moment to realise he is alone. “Eh?” he scratches his cheek, trying to recall the sound of the door opening and shutting. He can’t tell how long it has been since the other left. There are no traces of his visit, no discarded teacups, no dirty plates with crumbs, nothing. He checks the bedroom, the bathroom, just to be sure. But it’s true: he has been a bad host. 

Jonghyun really has been doing nothing but writing. 

Searching for his phone to type out an apology, he realises belatedly that he doesn’t have a contact saved under “Lee Taemin.” With a repentant pout, he hums to himself. Next time, he promises himself. I’ll make it up to him next time.

When he’s settled down in front of his laptop again, this time with a steaming bowl of kal-guksu, he makes a choked sound at how much he has typed. Scrolling through page upon page of a very coherent-looking storyline, a reverberating surprise runs its course through him. Did he really do all this? Was that guy really serious about all that stuff? Has his inspiration finally returned to him, after all this time, all these years?

A muse… he feels the hint of a smile playing under his cheeks. He has a muse. 

“That… isn’t that something imaginary?” Minho asks him when he excitedly gushes about the encounter. “Like, something that old men used to think up so they could make paintings and all that?” 

“You’re just looking for an excuse to call me old,” Jonghyun dismisses. They’re lying on Minho’s carpet, listening to music. The sun is streaming through tall slider doors, and the usual sound of traffic is absent on a Sunday morning like this. Even the shadows look blue, their hue fluid and sparkling like light bouncing off of water. He feels calm, he feels like he is cradled in a hammock. As they relax side-by-side and read off their phones, there is a plot swirling in the back of Jonghyun’s mind. It buzzes and stirs, waiting to break out and lay itself down in orderly lines and sentences. He nurses it, pets its back, scratches it between its ears. He gives it a name. 

But it can wait.

“Look at this,” he scrolls through a namuwiki article on the Muses, holding it out for the other to see. “It says this famous novelist from America calls his bowling trophy a muse. Wah…! He’s written so many famous books!” 

“He’s old, too,” Minho snorts before he’s swatted at by an annoyed Jonghyun. “OK, OK!” he defends. “OK. I get it. You have a muse. So, is she hot?” he grins and rolls onto his elbows, a happy glimmer in his large eyes. “Does she pose for you? Do you get to take her on dates? How does it work?”

“It’s a guy,” Jonghyun frowns. 

“Really?” Minho hums, the slightest disenchantment pulling at his lips. “But it says here that muses are supposed to be beautiful women. Look,” he wrests the phone away from his friend and goes to the image section of the article. 

His point is proven by several old and colourful depictions of elegantly posed women, loose garments draped over their voluptuous fronts. There is no hint of an awkward lanky male form in dark and brooding clothes that blend him into his bleak surroundings. The women’s expressions are calm and filled with wisdom, unlike Taemin’s youthful fervour. The only feature that is barely reminiscent of the young man are the dark, mystical eyes.

Something inside Jonghyun grows uneasy.

“I mean…” he shrugs, hoping to give an explanation. He doesn’t have one, not at that moment. He doesn’t know how to defend his experience. All he knows is a name, some very sound advice, and the promise of money… money he hasn’t yet received, mind. He realises he is dealing with a stranger, after all. That if he isn’t careful, his prefatory suspicions of Taemin being a dangerous guy might still come true.

“Look, why don’t I introduce the two of you when he visits again?” he offers as justification, trying to push the issue aside. “You’ll like him, he’s got an... entertaining sort of personality, you’ll see—”

“I have a better idea,” Minho rejects the response. “Why don’t you just let me read one of your books, eh? I searched for your name and nothing comes up, you know? Are you really getting published at all? Or are they just taking you for a ride and stealing your work—?”

“Let’s just,” Jonghyun holds his hands up between them. He feels alarmed at the turn their conversation has taken. “Look. Let’s talk about this later, OK?”

“Hyung…” Minho makes an exasperated face, but he’s a good friend. His words are rooted in concern. He slowly settles back onto the floor, giving up on his argument, intertwining their legs. The soothing sounds from his music system take over once again.

What remains is Jonghyun’s fear of losing a dear friend.

------

“Who are you, really?” he shoots his misgivings the first chance he gets.

It has been many weeks since their last meeting. He has been progressively furthering the new book, or whatever it turns out to be in the end. What first sat as an idea in his scribbled notes has grown tall and strong. He now has chapters, and multiple plotlines that diverge from and converge on each other. He has dialogues, he has beats, he has imagery, he has descriptions. He has woven all the ends to make one whole, one complete mass, one continuous flow. Things are coming together, and Jonghyun is amazed at his own progress.

But his gratitude doesn’t dilute his distrust.

As soon as he barges into the apartment, Taemin demands to read through whatever there is so far. For a long time, he sits reposed on the sofa: silent for once, interest wavering only when he is addressed.

“Huh?”

“Are you just some rich chaebol kid looking to spend his dad’s money? Is this… just fun for you?” Jonghyun expounds on the interrogation. There is some insecurity in his tone, some residual lack of confidence from previous encounters that have left him wounded. Even he can tell. But he continues, unabashed in his self-preservation. “All this… this muse stuff. What’s in it for you?”

“I told you,” Taemin offers an apathetic shrug. “I like your writing.”

“I thought you like books with lots of sex,” Jonghyun frowns and counters, pointing at the tablet in the other’s hold. “I don’t have any of that in there.”

“Are you planning on keeping it that way?”

“Well, I wasn’t really going to, but—wait, no, listen to me,” he is nearly distracted, and the momentary look of triumph on Taemin’s face leaves him flustered. “I need to know who you are. I need to know why you’re doing this, and I need to know now,” he places his ultimatum. “Or I’m not writing another word.”

Taemin sits up and releases a slow exhale. His gaze is amused. It roves over his host, appraising him like a teacher would a child on his first day of school.  

“What if I don’t tell you?” he posits. It’s not a challenge. His tone is chatty, conversational. As if he’s asking, what if cars could fly. He leans forward and smiles that magician smile again. “What will it change, if you know? Is it going to fix your life? Is it going to rid you of all your problems? Is the world going to make sense?” he motions with his hands. “Of course not. So why do you want to know?”

“Because—!” Jonghyun wants to say it will sate his curiosity, but he can’t admit that. Something about that feels like a confession. He can’t speak his mind like that.

“Look, I like that you’re curious,” Taemin reads his mind anyway, still smiling. “I like that you want to learn about things you don’t understand. I think that’s important for a writer. But I think what’s more important is figuring out what the real question is.”

He blinks with confusion. “The real question…?” he shakes his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’re writing this thing,” the other waves the tablet. “And you’ve advanced really far into the storyline. Things are getting exciting, characters are finally starting to become full people I can be invested in. I can’t put this book down even if the house was burning,” he compliments. “But there’s something missing. And I can’t tell what it is, except that it exists. In there,” another poke into Jonghyun’s ribcage. “Maybe the question you should be asking then, is what is missing? What else do you need? What else is there for you to find?”

A clearing of the throat, a shift of the seat. Jonghyun won’t acknowledge it, but the words resonate with him.

Missing. Something is missing. Something needs to be found. Something is waiting to be discovered. Something that he requires to complete this story… or maybe complete himself. Something that once sat in an empty slot in his chest must be recovered. He doesn’t mean for the thought to be so profound. But it is that very same profoundness that makes him believe it’s probably true. Something is missing inside him. Something is missing from his life. Something is missing from his world. And he needs to find it.

“Will you help me look?” he entreats his muse.

A magnanimous stretch of the arms replies. “It’s what I’m here for,” Taemin grins and falls back onto the cushions, continuing to read.

------

They stand outside the apartment block and Jonghyun is still not sure about this.

“Look, I really don’t think—” he starts to beseech, but Taemin silences him with a wave of his hand. He clicks on one of the call buttons and a ring starts to go, only raising the panic in Jonghyun’s gut.

“Just meet with her,” the other persuades, rational as always.

When someone answers on the other side of the line, it’s as if his entire body freezes until he is nudged. “U-uhh… yes. M-my name is uh… I mean. That is—”

“Is this a prank call?” the woman asks with anger in her voice.

Another nudge shakes his senses up. “N-no…!” Jonghyun insists. “Uhm, we—you and I. We work for the same company. M-miss Eonsook.”

A long pause. Some rustling of cloth. Some whispered conversation in the background. Then the woman’s voice returns. “OK, come on up,” she finally acquiesces before a loud buzz swings the front door open.

“Go!” Taemin hisses at him, grinning wide under the dark sunglasses that have become his signature.

The building isn’t much different from Jonghyun’s own apartment block, but there is something lighter about everything. It feels… nicer. There are planters with pretty flowers along the corridor. The lifts are clean and fully functional. The walls are devoid of posters and advertisements. TV sets can be heard outside some of the doors, as can the whistle of pressure cookers and the nagging of mothers. The atmosphere is homely, welcoming. He doesn’t feel like he’s intruding on anything, so he continues to walk in confidently.

He reads the numbers on each unit as he passes by, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings and wishing Taemin were accompanying him.

When he’s at the door he was looking for, he rings the bell and waits.

The woman who answers him is somewhat recognizable. He remembers seeing the straight jet-black hair, the round jaw, the parrot-hooked nose, the no-nonsense stare. Even if he has never before glimpsed her puffy lips or heard her soft voice, he remembers her from the fan-meeting—and possibly from other occasions, when they bumped into each other at the publication office.

Nobody can tell she is one of the most popular writers in the country.

“Ah, hello,” he bows low and his sunglasses slip off his face to clatter to the ground. He scrambles to put them back on, but simply pockets the disguise when he notices the turn in her mouth. “M-my name is—”

“You must be the person who writes as Grapefruit,” she guesses correctly. Her diction holds a soft lisp. Barely there, unlike Minho’s often baby-like pronunciations. He blushes and nods at the floor in response to the question.

“Come in,” she invites him, the grille door swinging outwards.

Other than the ordinary-looking furnishings, her home is full of photos. As he pulls the surgical mask to his chin and wanders through the apartment, Jonghyun cannot help but study them all, turn by careful turn. All over the walls she has displayed pictures of herself, her family, her friends, and another woman. A sister, he guesses at first, before correcting himself when his eyes go to a shockingly intimate polaroid.

He doesn’t realize he is staring until he hears his host pointedly clear her throat.

“Some juice?” Eonsook offers the glass on a tray. He accepts and stands awkwardly for a few minutes, shifting from foot to foot.

“Y-you have a very nice place—” he begins.

“So,” Eonsook cuts him off, showing him a seat. “How can I help?”

“H-help?” he blinks, his thoughts clouded.

She raises her eyebrows, wets her lips, digs her teeth into the lower one. “It’s a polite way of asking why you’re here,” she clarifies. He can tell there is laughter waiting to bounce out of her throat. In everything she does, there is an underlying strain of confidence. She exudes it in waves that come off her and lap at his own chest, nearly pushing him back with their force.

“R-right! Yes, of course,” he jumbles with the glass in his hold, looking around for a moment before accepting the proffered seat. “I—I came to ask you for… for advice.”

She follows his example and sinks into an armchair, crossing her legs and watching him for a moment. A long and entertained moment. “Oh?”

“Y-yes…” he insists. “You see. I’m—I’m currently working on this book, and. And I’m at this part that I need to research before I write it. So…”

“What kind of part?” her interest is immediate.

He tries to think of a way to describe it, nervously scratching the back of his neck and fumbling with the collar of his tee shirt. He feels unreasonably nervous, cognizant of the sweat beginning to stream down his back. “W-well…” he tries.

“Is it a sexy part?” she asks.

“N-not really.”

“Hmm, I guessed as much,” she leans back into her chair. “I’ve read your work. You’re not much of an erotic writer, are you, Grapefruit ssi?” she sums him up with narrowed eyes. And yet, there isn’t any sign of malice in her observation. He glance is approving, in fact. Admiring. “Your stories are very different. Emotional. They’re for a very… cerebral audience. Is that always your intent?” she asks with some fascination in her gaze.

He blinks up at the ceiling, thinking of a genuine answer, not wanting to disappoint her for some nameless reason.

“No,” he concedes after a while. “I think it’s just… because of the kind of person I am. I think it requires me falling in love first before… before my characters fall in love.” He runs a finger over the rim of his condensate-covered glass, nodding contemplatively for a moment. “W-what about you?” he asks. “What is your intent? When you write, I mean.”

She hums, crossing her arms across her front. “Intent…” she hisses a breath in. “There doesn’t always have to be one, you know?” she says conversationally. “Like you said, we can feel very strongly about something, and then write about it. Tell a story around it. I think that’s possible,” she accepts. And when she smiles, he feels an odd sense of solidarity with her.

“What… what does Eonsook ssi feel strongly about?”

The woman smirks. “You were staring at her just now,” comes the simply reply. Accompanying it is the smooth motion of a hand coming up to support her chin, a ring glinting on its third finger.

Jonghyun bumbles an apology.

“There is nothing else I feel as strongly about,” she reveals. “There is no one I love as much, no one I care about as much, no one who matters to me as much. And so,” she holds out a hand between them. “I write about her. About us. I suppose…” she finishes with a grin, a clever gleam nestled in her eyes. “I suppose you can say she’s my muse.”

“A muse…!” Jonghyun’s heart runs on a treadmill at the words. “Do you think…” he begins, shifting forward in his seat. She mirrors the movement. “Do you think you could teach me? How you find the courage to tell your stories?” he requests.

“Courage?” Eonsook chuckles. “It doesn’t take courage to make people happy, Grapefruit ssi,” she shakes her head. “Because that is what we do. We ultimately make people happy with our work. They read it, they smile, they feel good. Maybe they forget about it after some time. Maybe some of it stays with them for years. Who knows?” she shrugs. “As long as we get them to smile.”

He feels awe at that. “As long as they smile…” he nods again, this time in understanding.

------

With every jump of his hips, he is filled with a murder of crows that flutter to the far edges of his body—to the villages settled in his fingertips and the townships developed in his toenails. With every jump of his hips the leaves inside him quiver from the force, as birds take to the skies between his stomach and lungs.

When they travel, when they journey through him, his sighs tell the tale of that journey. They sing like bards, reciting how the crows travel carrying messages tied to their feet. The sighs paint pictures of beaks pecking at his outer edges, his boundaries, his geographical territories. With every jump of his hips he is breaking those boundaries, violating the treaties that hold those borders sacred. With every jump, he is less self-contained, less of an uncontested dominion.

He secedes. He surrenders his independence. He lets himself be taken captive by the thrum of the man below him. Inside him.

With every jump of his hips, he abdicates the throne of his identity. He makes the other king. Gives his crown to another head. And the crows carry news of this shift in power to all the lands that were once under his reign. They carry the news, propelled by the sighs, released at every breath, every hitch, every gasp. Every jump.

In his own kingdom, he is now a pauper.

To have meaning, to be defined by a name and description—all this no longer applies to him. The other man has changed his definition. The other man has made him… not him. But if he is not himself, who is he? If he is not who he was born as, if he is no longer the man he introduced himself as, who is he? What is his name, now? What can he call himself? How will he present himself to strangers, if he is a stranger to his own self? If he looked himself up online, what would the results be? Would they just become strange unreadable symbols?

If he is not himself, then he does not exist: or, at least… this is what he has always thought to be true.

But now his hips jump, and his voice breaks, and he calls out a name that doesn’t belong to him. With every jump, he becomes a blurry existence.

------

They grow close, Eonsook and Jonghyun. They become friends.

She talks to him often, sometimes on the phone, other times over dinner. On a second visit to her apartment, he learns the other woman from the photos is Gwiboon, who talks a mile a minute and laughs like an erupting volcano. The two of them accept Jonghyun like he has always belonged in their life, always had a place in their home and their hearts. They are kind to him. They are kinder than most others have been.

Perhaps because there is nothing to hide from them. He doesn't have to lie about what he does for a living, doesn't have to make up stories about how he spends his free time. He doesn't have to shut his doors and draw his curtains with them. There is nothing to be ashamed of, in their company.

It's freeing.

Jonghyun continues to write, faster and longer than ever before. He writes like he breathes. He enjoys how uninhibited it makes him feel. He finds himself feeling more and more confident about this story, even going back to the rejected manuscript and making edits with a red marker. He meets Taemin at a café and spends most of the time scribbling in a notepad as they hide from other patrons in a corner booth.

With every page he writes, a mass of pride grows in his ribcage.

“So, what now?” Taemin asks him one afternoon, having finished the latest draft and giving it his seal of approval. “Where does the story go from here?”

“Hmm...” Jonghyun nurses a cup of coffee. It is early in the morning. He has been organising his books and wardrobe and even his thoughts while the other read. He has been carefully making his way through all that needs to be settled—in his writing and outside it.

“I could write some more about the way the characters feel. You know, build more plot buffer. Or,” he gives half a shrug. “I could. Resolve it in a certain way.”

“A certain way,” Taemin raises an eyebrow. “What way?”

“Well. They could. I don't know. Fall in love, and—” the other is vehemently shaking his head before Jonghyun even finishes his sentence. “What? Why not?!”

“Too forced,” Taemin disapproves. “It would just be pandering to your readers, when the story doesn’t naturally flow that way. Consider everything that’s happened. There is no justification for them falling in love. All they've done is meet a few times and exchange... banter.”

“Sometimes that's enough!” Jonghyun defends, then softens. “Is... is it not?”

“You tell me.”

“No, you tell me!” Jonghyun insists. “Is it not enough for them to know each other? To enjoy the company? To... to feel comfortable with each other? That should be enough sometimes, right? Wouldn't that be enough for you?”

“Is that the real question—?”

“Yes! Yes, it is!” Jonghyun shouts, and as he does, he is painfully aware of the fact that this is not how he had planned for this conversation to ensue. He is conscious of the fact that he has made it a confrontation rather than keeping it within the bounds of an emotional exchange. There is a feeling of being put under an unannounced spotlight, its glare harsh against his face. He breathes hard, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter before him, doubling over in preparation for the rest of his episode.

“Yes, it is,” he repeats in a quieter, gentler tone. When he straightens up, he stares at the other with pleading eyes.

“What am I to you?” he repeats with some desperation.

Taemin looks satisfied at the question, like he has been waiting a long time for it to emerge. He remains relaxed despite the friction, despite the anxiety in his host. He continues to smile like an illusionist, continues to watch like a judge. “Before I answer that,” he begins in a calm, collected voice. “And I will answer it. But before I do, I need to you to tell me first: what am I to you?”

The reaction enrages him. “No,” Jonghyun warns. “No. Enough games. Enough running around in circles. You’re never honest with me. You only talk about this… this shit!” he angrily motions at the tablet the other had been reading from. “You can’t avoid this anymore. You have to answer me now.” He holds a hand up between them and counts. “Who are you? Why are you helping me? What do I mean to you?”

“Hmm,” Taemin rocks back and forth. “You really want me to tell you?”

Jonghyun makes wide, aggravated motions. “Who else will—?!”

“You want me,” Taemin clarifies. “To tell you. Who I am,” he raises his eyebrows. “You really don’t know? Have you really not known? All this time?”

“That’s why I’m asking—!”

“No, you’re not,” the protest is cut off. “You’re asking because other people are asking: what does he do in there all day, who is he with, who is this muse he’s talking about all of a sudden. You’re asking because you need to give them an answer. An answer that isn’t really the answer,” the corner of Taemin’s lip turns up. “Isn’t it?”

“Wh-what…?” Jonghyun shakes his head, the hair on his arms standing on end.

Taemin skips off his stool, meanders around the counter, advances on him.

Jonghyun’s breath sounds like an elasticized gong. His inhales are like rubber bands, stretching on for hours and hours. He is buzzing, like he sits inside something alive. Inside a heart and the lights decorating Namdaemun at night are made of lamps that glow soft and warm as if someone is holding him in an embrace and showering him with solace while their eyes are speaking to him in a different tongue in a speech of a foreign land where jinn live and grant wishes and there is nothing to see for miles except murders of crows carrying messages on their feet telling the world that the empire has fallen the world is coming to an end and the—

------

Mapo bridge.

It talks to him. It asks how he is, if he’s eaten yet. It tells him to turn his head up and look at the blue sky once. It tells him it loves him. It tells him that the brightest moments in his life are yet to come.

Jonghyun cries hard enough that his body shakes from the force. Minho stands very close, looking worried and reaching out for a hug. But he is told to wait. Not yet. He is told to wait, Jonghyun will need him soon.

Words are everything he is. Words are his life and soul. His bone and sinew. His drifting days and sleepless nights. Words have created him, penned him down—not the other way around. They have built him up, bound his loose pages and given him a spine. They have made him Kim Jonghyun. They have made him a writer, a poet, an artist. They have made him what he is. And he would never have realised this, were it not for Taemin.

Were it not for himself.

“I write for myself,” he claims to the sad and bloated waters of the Han, knowing the other is listening. Somewhere. From within the crevasses of his mind, Taemin is listening. “I write for myself.” It is a heavy claim to make. It is heavy as lead. It is tied to Jonghyun's feet as he trains to run his ink across a coastline. The claim is heavy enough to need lugging around on his hipbone. It is heavy, it is full. Like an earthen pot spilling its contents.

His face is drenched when he speaks those hefty words, when he acknowledges them. He sobs and his fingers tighten on the rails of the bridge, the place he would often visit when he felt sad and alone. But he isn’t alone. Minho is here for him. Eonsook and Gwiboon wait in a car nearby. And Taemin.

Taemin exists in the beats of his pulse.

Behind him, traffic swishes past. In front of him, the river hushes his crying. “I write for myself,” he lets go of the full pot and watches it splash, watches its shards rock a little on the ground, after they've separated from the whole.

많이 힘들었구나

He touches the words of the bridge and nearly answers out loud. He nearly says yes. Yes. It was tiring. It was terrifyingly easy to give up on my dreams. He rocks a little in place and finally Minho gathers him into a tight hold, stroking circles on his back.

It was awful, Jonghyun wants to say. But I found him. I found myself. I found contentment. I found it. And now I can walk away from you saying yes. Yes, it was tiring. It was hard. But now my breath comes easily. My heart beats easily. My life runs easily. I am alive. I am free. I am happy.

I love myself.

TTWDBI - Eight

Part Eight - Deceit

Masterlist

Summary: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader - Sam is young, powerful and comes from one of the wealthiest families in New York. When he meets an Omega bartender who’s far from what his family expects, Sam is forced to make a series of hard choices.

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, smut, knotting, breeding, dominance, ownership, angst, family drama. This chapter contains an attempted sexual assault, actual physical assault, and talk of past abuse.

Words: 6.5k

Beta: @ilikaicalie -

Part Nine is currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

“Where are we going?” You peek out of the walk-in closet. “I need a few details. I don’t know what to pack.”

“Just pack everything.” Sam’s distracted, staring down his iPad with a stylus between his teeth.

“Winter everything or warm weather everything?” You slink out into the bedroom. “Come on, just a hint. Just tell me...are we staying in the state or are we going somewhere more exotic.”

“Nope.” He quips, marking notes on the digital screen.

“How long are we staying? Are we driving or flying?” You persist.

He perks up a little, actually making eye contact with a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. ��Pack enough for a week, a dress or two, something warm. A bathing suit, well, on second thought you won’t need the suit…”

“You’re awful.” You laugh, as he nips at you.

It’s been a month since Jake and things between you and Sam couldn’t be better. The last four weeks have been wonderfully uneventful and it’s given you the time to enjoy each other. In fact, you’ve discovered that the more you’re around each other, the deeper your love grows. Fate must have known what it was doing when it brought you together.

“Bring that black thing with all the lace, the one piece. I love your ass in that.”

“Maybe.” You smile, pulling the aforementioned neglige from the hanger and carefully folding it into the suitcase. “How many bags can I bring with me?”

“As many as you want we’re taking my dad’s plane so you can - fuck!”

“Aha!” You jump back out of the closet, to find Sam shaking his head, glaring at you. “We’re taking a plane somewhere. Out of the state? Out of the country?”

“You think you’re so slick.” He puts down the iPad and stands up, moving toward you. “You’re just going to have wait until tomorrow.”

“Come on!” You whine. “I wanna know.”

“I’m not saying another word, I might give something else away. I’ve kept it secret this long. I’m not letting you trip me up at the finish line. My lips are sealed.”

He pulls to you him, one hand around your waist, fingers curling around your back as his thumb trails over the scar on your neck.

“I’m excited.” You whisper, eyes fluttering at his touch. “I haven’t traveled much. I always wanted to, Donna and I were going to backpack through Ireland but neither of us ever had the money.”

“I’m gonna take you everywhere.” He murmurs, leans down for a light kiss. “Just wait.”

Prague, Czech Republic

The city is like a rich noir novel come to life. It’s a taste of the old world, with its decadent buildings and thick, hanging fog. It’s like living in a Bela Lugosi movie. You’ve been here for three days, with five more to go. A whole week in a place you didn’t know you loved until the plane landed and you stepped out into this strange new land.

It’s well after sunset as you walk arm-in-arm with Sam over the cobblestones.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, hot breath puffing out into the frigid night air. He places a gloved hand over yours.

“Starving.” You smile, picking up the pace.

Dinner is a five-course meal in a candlelit tavern that looks like a medieval alehouse, complete with walls of stone and soft music playing the background.  It’s a small place, only a few other couples cuddle around the aging wood tables giving the illusion of privacy. You might as well be the only ones here as you get lost in Sam, and food, and the otherworldly surroundings.

By the time the sorbet arrives you’re both so full, you can only manage a taste before sitting back, grinning like a fool. Sam looks just as happy, he’s had a smile plastered across his face since you left New York and this broad, unadulterated joy looks good on him.

“I can’t believe this is my life.” You giggle, reaching across the table, laying your hand over his.

“You like it here?” He doesn’t need to ask, he knows he picked well. He’s watched you discover art and architecture and European cuisine. He knew you had deeper interests, a desire to see more than your previous life afforded but in this place, you’re blossoming.

“It’s not just the city, it’s being here with you. Everything just feels right.” You blink back tears. “I’ve never been able to breathe without something looming over me. I just feel so free. I love you so much.”

If it’s even possible his smile widens, dimpled cheeks rounding out.

“I love you, too.” He squeezes your fingers. “What’s been your favorite thing so far?”

“St. Vitus Cathedral at night.” You answer without even thinking about it. “I’ve never felt anything like that before, it was overwhelming and...emotional. Is that weird?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I felt the same way when I saw it for the first time. I was visiting my mom and we came here. I was eight or nine and I stood there for an hour, transfixed. We should go back. We can go tonight.”

“Really?” You confirm. “I’d love that.”

“No better time than the present.”

After dinner, you wander through the city. It’s chilly but tolerable as you stroll for the better part of an hour, talking about nothing and walking arm in arm as a fat moon rises high in the night sky.

St. Vitus rises in front of you like an architectural beacon, lighting up the night like a gothic fairy tale.

“I never wanna leave.” You whisper, feeling both of Sam’s arms wrap around you from behind.

“What do you love so much about it?” He asks softly, nuzzling into your hair.

“The city, the people...but mostly I think it’s being with you. When we’re home you work so much...I’m not complaining. I just miss you sometimes.”

“We’ve got the rest of our lives to be together.” He whispers as he releases you. You turn to look at him but he’s already on one knee, crouching in front of you.

“Sam.” You’re already crying as he tugs the glove off your left hand.

“I love you. I wanna spend my life with you.” He states simply, a sparkling ring between his fingers. “I don’t want to wait any longer to start our life together. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” You blurt out, half laughing, half crying, while he slips the ring onto your finger.

“I’m gonna make you so happy,” he whispers, standing and cradling your face between two warm hands. “I promise.”

The rest of the week is a lovesick haze. The days are spent making love and endless conversation about the details of your new life. Everything feels like it’s falling into place, life has finally come together to give you something good.

New York City

“Come in!” Mary claps her hands together, grinning wildly.

“Hi,” you gasp as she embraces you in a tight hug.

“Sam,” She releases you and reaches out to her son, kissing him on the cheek.

“Hi mom,” he grins as she pats his face. “You’re happy.”

“Well, I have a surprise for you.” She looks at you, the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on her face. “I think it’s just what we need.”

“What is it?” Sam smiles at you, taking your hand and leading the way to the study.

Rounding the corner you find two extra guests seated on the leather sofa, your parents.

You stop in your tracks as Sam tugs on your hand, turning to look between you and these new strangers. You’re locked in a staring match with your father, who’s teetering on the edge of the couch with a glass in his hand. Your mother is sitting uncomfortably beside him, these two couldn’t be more out of their comfort zone. They’ve always considered wealth in itself to be an offensive extravagance.

“Hello, Y/N.” Your father stands up, clearing his throat.

You unconsciously sidestep closer to Sam even though he’s not physically intimidating like when you were a girl, now he’s just a man in cheap trousers who no longer holds sway over your life.

“Hi, Dad.” You don’t move to greet him, there’s complete silence until your mother joins her husband, slinking past him to place a kiss on your cheek. “Mom.”

“Well, this isn’t exactly the reception I was hoping for.” Mary’s tone is painfully cheerful despite the unbearable tension.

“I’m sorry,” You pull yourself together. Turning to Sam you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes, you won’t be able to fake your way through this. “Sam these are my parents, Alastair and Naomi. Mom, Dad, this is Sam.”

Sam, always quick with his social graces, shakes your father’s hand and introduces himself to your mom while you are trying to formulate a plan. You were fully prepared to never see either of them again, but you find yourself in a room with two people who rival John and Mary in their cruelty.

“I just thought it was about time that we met Y/N’s parents.” Clasping her hands, Mary scrunches up her nose, smiling from you to Sam. “And what better time? You two can tell us all about Prague.”

“Actually, this is perfect.” Sam’s arm slips around your waist. “We have some news.”

“Oh?” John speaks up for the first time, tilting his head and staring at Sam. It’s amazing how much disappointment the man can convey with a single, one syllable word.

“Yeah,” Sam’s hand squeezes your hip and you look to him for the first time. He’s smiling, a bright genuine smile that even his father can’t take from him. “I asked Y/N to marry me.”

John snorts, Mary’s face contorts into a hideous expression of forced joy and your father remains stoic. It’s Naomi, your mother who has the biggest reaction, moving in to embrace you while your arms hang at your side.

“Congratulations,” she sputters, lifting your hand to see the ring. Her eyes go wide at the sight of the sizeable diamond. “Oh my gosh.”

“If she’s a wearing a ring that must mean she said yes,” Mary approaches you for a hug, nearly shoving your mother out of the way to get to you. “I wish you would have told me Sam, I could have helped with the ring.”

“I think I did alright on my own.” Sam’s grin, his eyes locked on you.

“It’s perfect.” You add, trying not to be distracted by this unexpected turn of events. This should be a happy announcement and you hate that your past is tainting the present, bleeding into your new life like an open wound that refuses to heal.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married.” Your mother has the same dulled, Stepford Wife expression she wore your entire childhood. “Marriage is such a gift, such a sacred bond.”

“Does that mean you’re happy for me?” The question comes out with an edge despite doing your best to temper the disdain.

“Of course.” She looks between you and Sam.

“Congratulations.” John’s face is even, unreadable as he approaches his youngest son.

“Thanks.” Sam accepts his father's half-hearted hug.

“Well,” Mary’s frozen in place, hands clasped together, turning to your father who hasn’t spoken or moved from his seat. “This is delightful news, isn’t it.”

“Seems backward to me.” His eyes lock onto you just like when you were a kid, so much silent contempt for what you are. He’s always resented that his daughter is an Omega. “You’re already claimed. What’s the point?”

“Dad.” You warn. Everyone is watching but all you can see is your father.

“I think it’s wonderful.”  Mary tries to intercede. “With the baby things will be-”

“Mom!” Sam hisses.

Your mother looks heartbroken and your father’s eyes narrow in on you.

“You expected me to be shocked?” He snorts. “I wouldn’t have expected anything different from our daughter. She’s always had trouble keeping her legs closed.”

“Hey,” Sam is right beside you, ready to jump but you put your arm out to stop him.

“I know what you think of me. You’ve always made that much clear.”

“And you’ve always lived up to expectations. I tried my best with you, your mother and I both did. But you and your sister never listened.”

“Tried your best?” You laugh dryly. “You treated us like we were filthy, like being an Omega meant that I was damned from the get-go.”

“You had no self-control. It was bad enough when you were little but once you presented and that first heat came it was clear what kind of women you’d end up becoming.”

“I was a child!” You shout, tears springing to life. “I needed you to love me, to protect me. I needed mom to show me how to handle myself. All either of you ever did was hurt me.”

“This is the problem with today’s society. A little discipline never harmed anyone, and you needed more than you got.”

“I can’t be here with him.” You turned to Sam who’s already wrapping an arm around your waist.

“You’re going to burn in hell. You’ve always been a whore and I knew that you-”

“Stop.” John’s booming voice cuts through the noise, snapping everyone to attention. “You can’t speak that way to her, not in my home. You should leave.”

“Gladly.” Alastair stands up, your mother following blindly just as she always has. He stops to offer you final look of disgust. “You’re in the middle of a vipers nest and you don’t even know it. I’ll pray for you.”

“Get out.” Sam pulls you against him.

-

“What an awful man.” Mary comments, tucking hair behind both your ears. You can’t stop crying and the embarrassment doesn’t help. She wipes her thumb across your cheeks. “If I had any idea I would never have invited him here.”

“All I want is to live my life, to be happy. I don’t know why that’s always been so hard for me.”

“Well, there’s nothing happier than a wedding.” She dotes, handing you a glass of water, turning to Sam who’s seated next to John at the end of the table. “Have you two talked about dates yet?”

“Next month.” Sam nods, tapping his finger on his whiskey glass.

“Next month?” She scoffs, eyes darting to John. “Why so soon?”

“She’s going to start showing at some point.”

“My son is suddenly concerned about what other people think.”

“We don’t want to wait any longer. We want to move forward as a family.” You chime in. Mary doesn’t look at you, instead takes a seat at the table.

“I think it’s a good thing.” John offers casually as the three of you turn to look at him in disbelief. “Family is important. That’s a lesson I’m still learning. I haven’t always been the most supportive, but if Sam’s happy, if you two make each other happy, then why the hell not.”

He raises a glass, tipping back the final vestiges of whiskey, his eyes never leaving you.

--

On Monday morning you’re not feeling well. Sam looks at you sideways, sipping a cup of coffee.

“You alright?” He kisses your cheek before checking his tie in the mirror beside the door.

“Just tired.” You mumble, wrapping the robe around yourself. “I didn’t sleep well.”

“Go back to bed.” He suggests, grabbing his keys off the counter, swooping in for one last kiss.

There’s a gentle buzzing coming from somewhere in the kitchen. Sam pulls away as you both look around. After a few seconds of silence, it buzzes again. Something’s vibrating.  He follows the sound to the pantry, sliding the doors open, the sound growing louder. After shifting a few canned goods around he pulls a small black flip phone from the back of the highest shelf, from behind a 5lb bag of rice.

“It’s a phone?” You ask, watching and he flips it open with his thumb.

“Yeah, it’s dying.” He holds it up, the screen is nothing but the image of a drained battery.

“How’d it get in there?” You ask as Sam hands it to you.

“No idea, must be the housekeeper’s.” He shrugs. “I gotta go, see you tonight.”

-

Sam’s knee deep in a fresh set of analytics, already late for the quarterly meeting when there’s a knock the door.

“What it is?” He asks, expecting Rowena’s head to poke around the corner. Instead, it’s Mary who steps into his office, offering him a tight smile.

“I came at a bad time?” She’s slinking toward his desk as he shuffles papers back into the proper folders.

“Sorry mom, I’m right in the middle of it. I’m already late for a meeting. Can we talk later?”

“I just need a second.” There’s a large manilla folder in her stands, clutching it like she’s holding the crown jewels.

“I’ve only got one minute, but we can get coffee later if you want to-”

“I’d like that, but I-I have to show you something.”

“What?” He’s only half paying attention. When she doesn’t speak he looks up to find her holding the folder out toward him. “What is that?”

“Before you get mad at me, I want you to hear me out.” She explains calmly.

“Mom-”

“I care about you Sam, I won’t ever feel bad for that. I know you think you love this girl but the truth is no really knows where she came from or-”

“I’m not having this discussion.” Sam rests his knuckles on the desk, leaning forward.

“She’s not who you think she is.” Mary’s flustered, unadulterated anger rising her voice. “I know you think I’m always trying to manipulate you, but I’m not the only one-”

“Please, just stop. You’re on dangerous ground. You wanna be careful what you say next. I thought you were on board. Has this whole supportive production just been an act?” He can’t believe she’s still trying to pry her way into his relationship.

“No, I’ve been trying, honestly I have.” She walks around his desk, setting the folder in front of him. “You need to look at this when you have the time.”

“What is it?”

“After I first found out you claimed an Omega I hired a private investigator to look into her background. I needed to be sure you weren’t going to end up hurt.”

“Unbelievable.” Sam shakes his head.

“Sam, he found some things you need to see before you decide to marry this woman.”

“Everybody’s got shit in their past, mom.” He throws up his hands, looking from her to the folder, unwilling to dignify this with an adequate response.

“Not like this.” Mary’s jaw clenches. “She has been busy-”

“No.” Sam interrupts, he’s had enough. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

“I hope, for your sake you look at what he found. Don’t call me, call him. His number is in there.”

Sam sighs, takes a deep breath trying to fathom what in the world his mother is up to now. He’s disgusted but interested enough to pick up the pack and slide it in with his other documents.

“You need to stay out of my life.” He grabs his jacket off the back of the chair. “Find a way to get supportive or get out. It’s one or the other, Mom. I love you, I do, but I’ve got to go.”

-

By noon you’re sick to your stomach, lightheaded and generally feeling unsettled. Figuring it’s better to be safe than sorry you call the clinic. Dr. Johnson has an open appointment the next morning so you take the slot and go back to bed.

A few hours later the cramps wake you out of dead sleep. You jolt into consciousness clutching a hand over your abdomen, sweat covering every inch of you. Something is wrong, you know it in your bones.

You get yourself in a cab and head to the nearest emergency room. You don’t want to call Sam, not yet. He and John are having an important day, meeting with investors and getting ready for the global launch of their new flagship drug. Things have been going so well even his father is coming around. You don’t want to throw a wrench in the works by overreacting.

Omegas are made to carry children. You keep repeating that to yourself as you sit in the waiting room.

After twenty minutes you’re in a triage room in a paper gown waiting for the doctor. They’ve taken a gallon of blood but no one’s told you anything.

There’s a soft knock at the door.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Tuttle. I’m told you’re not feeling so well?”

“Not the best.” You smile as he takes a seat on the stool, rubbing hand sanitizer between his hands. He flips open your chart, reading through the notes.

“Twelve weeks, no complications. You’re claimed… Sam Winchester?” His eyes snap up, glancing at the gleaming rock on your finger.

“Yeah.” You blush, covering the ring self-consciously.

“I just read an article in the New England Journal of Medicine about the work Gilead’s spearheading. It’s an exciting time in medicine.”

“Sam will happy to hear that.” You try to move on from the niceties to the issue at hand, closing your eyes as pain bubbles up from your gut.

“I’m surprised you’re here. You don’t have a personal physician? And you're alone?”

“My doctor couldn’t see me until tomorrow and I didn’t want to worry Sam unless I know something’s wrong. I didn’t think I should wait, though.”

“Smart.” He smiles. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’re fine. No bleeding?”

“No, I just feel dizzy and sick to my stomach. The cramping comes and goes.”

“It’s not uncommon.” He places a hand on your arm. “Lay back for me.”

You stare at the ceiling as he gently presses on different areas of your stomach, asking about abdominal tenderness while making small talk.

There’s a knock on the door and a nurse enters the room, handing him a tablet. He reads the screen, forehead furrowing.

“The doctor you’ve been seeing, Dr. Johnson, she never mentioned you have low progesterone levels?”

“No,” You sit up, unease tightening in your chest. “Is something wrong?”

“I didn’t say that.” He shakes his head. “We’re going to do an ultrasound, just to be on the safe side.”

After a few minutes, there’s a cart wheeled into the room. One nurse is joined by two more as the doctor squirts gel onto your stomach, all four pairs of eyes silently glued to a screen you can’t see.

Dr. Tuttle clears his throat, mouth tightening. It doesn’t take a genius to gage the confused reactions of the medical team.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, tears pooling. “Did I lose my baby?”

“No.” The doctor removes the wand from your stomach. “I can’t discuss this any further with you. I have to speak with your Alpha-”

“Are you kidding me?” You’ve reached the end of your rope with this shit. This is your body, your child and you want to know now. “Tell me what’s going on, I have a right to know.”

Dr. Tuttle takes a breath, “Can I have the room please.”

“Please just tell me.” Wiping tears you wait in terrified anticipation until it’s only the two of you in the room.

“I shouldn’t do a pelvic exam without the consent of your Alpha. I could get in trouble. But I feel in this case I need to make an exception.”

“Why are you telling me that?”

“Because I need to do one. Right now.”

“This doesn’t feel right, I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“I don’t want to say anything else until I have more information.” He looks you dead in the eyes. “You’re gonna have to trust me.”

“Great.” You close your eyes, trying not to sob. “Why not.”

There’s an ultimate humiliation in not having power over your own body. You lie on the table, feet in stirrups and an arm hooked over your eyes, as the doctor performs an examination. It’s almost twenty minutes before he’s finishing poking and probing. You listen to the sickening sound of him snapping off rubber gloves.

“We’re done.” He gently places a hand on your arm, using the other to pull you into a sitting position. His face is grim, looking at you like he’s truly sorry for what he’s about to say.

“Are you gonna tell me?”

“You’re not pregnant.” He states calmly.

The air feels thick like you can’t get enough into your lungs to take a full breath. There’s a numbness that starts in your head and descends over your entire body as you sit and stare at Dr. Tuttle, expressionless.

“Did, um, did I do something wrong?” You ask, the words falling out of your mouth on autopilot. “Is this my fault?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You were never pregnant.”

“I don’t understand.” Never pregnant. It’s too much, too confusing and your brain can’t process what he’s telling you. “But I…”

“You have high levels of estrogen, extremely low progesterone and a synthetic version of hCG that showed up in your tox screen. It’s tricked your body into pseudocyesis. It mimics all the symptoms associated with a normal pregnancy. Swollen belly, breast tenderness, nausea, and weight gain. In some cases even the feeling of fetal movement. You wouldn’t have known the difference. But I can say with a hundred percent certainty that you have never been pregnant.”

You stare at him, unable to move or speak, the gravity of this revelation setting in.

“But I-I saw a heartbeat. I saw my baby.”

“Whatever you saw, it wasn’t your pregnancy.” He takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is unconventional, I shouldn’t even be telling you this. I have to call your Alpha.”

“Okay.” You’re still, focused on the wall. You can’t think anymore. If you let yourself feel it’ll be too much, so instead you shut down. “I need to go.”

“I think you should stay. We’ll call your Alpha, maybe we can all sit down together-”

“No.” You discard your gown in front of him, nudity is your last concern as you search for your jeans. “Thank you, but I need to go home now.”

-

Sam’s phone vibrates in his pocket for the third time in five minutes. He checks it again, it’s a number he doesn’t recognize so he hits the mute button.

“You need to take that?” John leans back in his chair, his eyes never leaving the shareholders presentation that’s currently in progress.

“I don’t know.” Sam grimaces as a fourth call comes in. “I think I better.”

Stepping into the hallways he answers, already annoyed. “Winchester.”

“Sam Winchester?” The voice is male and unfamiliar.

“The one and only. Who is this?”

“My name is doctor Tuttle, I’m a physician at New York Presbyterian.”

Sam’s heart drops into this stomach.

“What’s wrong?” He’s sweating before the question is finished.

“Your Omega came in today, I treated her for what I thought were pregnancy-related symptoms.”

“Is she alright?” He takes off toward his office, breaking into a run. He just needs his car keys. “Is something wrong with our baby?”

“She’s fine, but I do have some pretty unsettling news, Mr. Winchester. I think it’s best if you come here so we can speak in person.”

“I’m on my way.”

Twenty minutes later Sam’s sitting in a small office with lime green walls, listening as he’s told that his entire world has been a lie.

She was never pregnant. It appears to be a chemical induced pregnancy.

The words rattle around in his head. The doctor keeps talking, the hospital legal counsel sitting in the corner taking notes.

“How is this possible?” Sam can feel the rage boiling in his veins. You’ve been lying to him all this time, it’s the only explanation. “She had an ultrasound, I was there.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time that a woman has faked a pregnancy.” The lawyer speaks up. “You’d be surprised what people will agree to do for a little bit of cash.”

“I’m not entirely convinced that’s the case.” Dr. Tuttle speaks up. “She came in knowing we’d run tests, all it took was a blood screen and an ultrasound to determine she wasn’t pregnant. And her reactions appeared to be genuine. I tried to get her to stay, to wait for you, but she insisted on leaving.”

“I haven’t been able to reach her.” Sam runs a hand over his mouth. There’s a pressure building in his chest, starting to make it hard to breathe “I need to get out of here.”

He tried to call you several times on his way to the hospital but your phone is turned off. He left Donna a message but he didn’t know who else to call. You’re unreachable and his entire world is coming apart at the seams.

--

He sits in his car in the parking garage, key in the ignition but the car is still off. Sam can’t think straight. There are a million thoughts swirling in his brain. His eyes fall on the folder his mother handed him this morning, and he picks up, pulling out a stack of documents.

The first sheet is withdrawal history from your bank account. He hasn’t checked it since the business with Jake but the money didn't stop there. There are a series of withdrawals every month totaling around ten thousand dollars. There are two pages stapled to that one, showing charitable donations to the clinic you’ve been attending. And a deposit statement from the account of Amelia Richardson for fifteen thousand dollars.

Next is a transcript of text messages from an unlabeled number to a second number identified as Jake. It’s a series of messages that end in asking him to come to the apartment the day of the assault, along with the building address and security code.

The following page is a list of internet searches from your home IP address. Some of it’s about him, his family and then the inquiries trail off into fertility. Next, are various detailed searches regarding marriage laws and the details of financial responsibility once an Alpha marries an Omega. Then the specifics of the new drug that Sam’s been working on.

The connections begin to click together. He’s spent the last year listening to scientists explain how their cure for heat sickness works, It’s simple really. It tricks the body into thinking it’s pregnant. It can’t be a coincidence. There’s no way.

The next page is a series of photos. The first two of are you coming and going from the clinic.  

In the third, you’re sitting alone at a table in a cafe. Directly behind is a young blonde, it takes Sam a moment to place her. It’s the ultrasound technician. In the following photo, the girl is gone and you’re joined by Donna. There’s a handwritten note in the margins that reads withdrawal of a thousand same day - pay off?

Next is a surveillance shot of you and Amelia in a hallway at Gilead, you’re talking about something and there’s a note, a reference back to your bank withdrawal and the corresponding deposit into Amelia’s account.

The final photo makes his heart stop. It’s different than the rest and there’s a Post It that says found in Jake’s apartment. It’s from four or five years ago at a charity event. Sam and Dean are front and center, arms around each other’s shoulders. Sam remembers that night well, they both drank too much and ended up flying to Vegas at 3 am. But behind Dean is your image, a younger version of you dressed in a caterer’s uniform, holding a tray of champagne, staring at the back of Sam’s head.

The last page is the name of a divorce lawyer, Rouel Felder, and grainy photos of you leaving his office. Felder is ruthless, he’s represented everyone from Rudolph Giuliani to David Gest.

There’s a handwritten synopsis from the investigator.

It is my personal opinion, based on these facts, that the subject has engaged in ongoing deception regarding her pregnancy and her relationship with Jake Livingston. I believe the subject new that J. Livingston had photos of her contact with S. Winchester prior to their most recent meeting and that the subject cultivated the situation that lead to the death of J. Livingston at the hands of her Alpha.

The picture is clear. You’ve had an agenda from the beginning, this has all been one long, elaborate con designed to get him to marry you.

He opens the door of his car just in time to vomit on the cement. He wipes his mouth with his tie, before yanking it off his neck, tossing it on the ground of the parking garage. There’s a moment when he can’t see straight, his vision blurring as a sickening combination of anger and betrayal rises up.

He punches the steering column a half dozen times, not stopping until his knuckles bleed, but what he really wants is to punch a hole in the windshield. He’s about to really lose it when his phone vibrates and Donna’s name scrolls across the screen.

“I got your voicemail.” Donna quips as soon as he picks up. “I haven’t heard from her. Is something going on-”

“Did you fucking know?” Sam snarls, gripping the phone so tight his fingers turn white. “Have you two been laughing behind my back?”

“You’re gonna need to take a chill pill, buddy.” Donna shoots back. “You might be used to talking to other people like that, but not me.”

“I know what she’s been doing.” He hits the horn of the car with a closed fist.

“Care to share? Because I don’t have a freakin’ clue what you’re talking about.”

“This whole thing was a setup. The sob story about her parents, getting me to take out Jake and a baby that doesn’t fucking exist.”

“Are you drunk?” She asks flatly. “Is something wrong with the baby?”

“I’m so sick of people lying to me!” Sam lashes out, he wants to hurt someone, the rage bubbling up inside him has almost reached its breaking point. “I trusted her.”

“I still have no clue what you’re talking about but you need to take a breath.” She replies calmly.

“I’m talking about Y/N being this whole other person...I was so blind.”

“Stop.” Donna commands and Sam bristles. “Whatever happened you need to stop. This is the kind of crazy shit I warned her about. I told her you’d be bad for her..”

“Me?” Sam snorts in disbelief. “Bad for her?”

“Yeah, your crazy family has had it out for her since you two hooked up. I don’t know what happened but what I do know is that if you think she’s lied or betrayed you somehow, then you really are just a self-absorbed asshole. She’s put herself out there over and over again just to be with you, and now you’re talking like she’s some kind of criminal or something? Have you actually taken the time to get to know her? Because if you had, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Sam’s silent.

“You don’t deserve her.” She spits. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to find my friend and figure what the hell is going on. It sounds like she probably needs someone to be there for her, and it sure as hell isn’t you.”

--

He’s calmed down and he’s got a plan. He’s going to remain collected and confront you with the facts. Show you the photos and the documents and ask for your side the story. The more he thinks about Donna’s words the more he knows she’s right.

This isn’t you. He’s an idiot for thinking anything else.

He can believe a lot of terrible things about almost anyone, but not you. Maybe he’s blinded by his love for you, or maybe it’s just your bond but he can’t imagine that the situation is what is appears to be.

Sam can hear it the minute the door opens. Your cries are audible from the living room and he follows the sound to find you sitting in the middle of the bedroom floor, sobbing into your hands.

He doesn’t understand much about what’s happening, but the moment he sees you he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that you had no idea. There’s no faking this kind of despair.

“Y/N.” He says softly from the doorway and you let out a howl, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself, rocking back and forth on the floor. Gasping through the tears he can hear you struggling to breathe, you’re hyperventilating.

“Hey,” he sits on the floor, scooting closer, pulling you between his legs to wrap himself around you.

“I c-can’t b-breathe.” You sputter, gasping like a fish on dry land.

“Yes, you can.” Sam wants to cry too, but his emotional outbursts are the last thing you need right now. This moment is the greatest test of his ability to be an Alpha and he’s not about to let you down, not again, not after everything. “Breathe with me. Come on, in...out...in...out.”

He takes exaggerated breaths so you easily feel the rhythm of his body, each inhale and exhale is measured and slow until you calm down enough to find the pace on your own. But as soon as the panic attack passes your tears come back, gut-wrenching sobs that crush Sam’s heart.

“I don’t understand. I could feel our baby.” You howl. “I could feel it inside me but it was never there.”

“I know.” He kisses your head, rocking with you in his arms.

“I-I didn’t w-want it and then I fell in love with the idea of-” You can’t finish.

For a long time, neither of you say a word, you just cry for nearly an hour until you’re too physically exhausted to shed another tear. Even after the crying stops, he holds you as the minutes tick by and you lie limply in his arms.

“We’re gonna find out what happened. I promise you.”

“I don't care.” You whisper, utterly defeated. “I want my baby.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sam whispers, a tear sliding down his cheek. “We’ll have a baby. As soon as you want, whenever you’re ready.”

“I don’t think I can.” You grip his arms, holding on like some unseen force might try to pull you away from him. “My heart is too broken.”

-

Part Nine is currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

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12 Months

Alpha Peter x Omega Tony Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. The opinions here expressed are not my own but are a way of moving the story forwards. Please, remember this is a work of fiction about fiction characters. English is not my first language. ................................................................

The first 12 months of a child are the most critical ones. Tony and Peter have to learn so much.

..........................................................................................

June:

Morgan Happy Stark-Parker was born in the afternoon of June 3th, to parents Anthony Stark(O) and Peter B. Parker(A). She was 4 pounds and 8 ounces, had a patch of dark hair in her head and when she opened her eyes for the first time, she had Peter’s eyes. Her first name was unisex and they both found it cute and “Happy’ was a clear tribute to their dear friend. May was in the room with them when the baby came and helped giving the first bath and feeding for the first time. Peter could only cry during the first day and Tony could only glance wondering at the baby.

Every Avenger got to hold the baby and give congratulations. Nobody will ever admit it, but Fury’s eyes got all watery holding the new Stark baby. Because of Pepper’s mad skills with the media they didn’t had any troubles getting out of the maternity, but they knew they had to be open about this. The baby got so much snuggles and kisses (Tony had shaved to not hurt the child) and Peter and Tony holder her close to their hearts, making more skin-to-skin contact.

When Morgan was three days old, they took a candid, black and white picture of her tiny hands holding Tony’s pinky finger and they post it. Peter writes “a love I’ve never known before” under the photo and Tony caption is a simple heart. Those pictures reach one million likes in about 2 days and the media went crazy. The baby’s first sun bath is at the Penthouse terrace and when she’s 2 weeks old they go out in public for the first time and walk around Central Park with her.

May went with them to the Penthouse during the first week, she helped giving the first bath and helped them figuring out how to bottle feed her, burping and recognizing her cries. But as soon as she left, Peter and Tony discovered something interesting: Morgan was colic baby. She would wake up screaming in the middle of the night, and then she would shrink herself into a tiny ball and just be miserable until they could calm her down. She slept thru the day and was wide awake for most of the night. That really made them rethink the whole ‘family’ thing. The first time it happened, they got so scared that they rushed to the ER in search of help.

Morgan spender almost 7 diapers a day and was bottle-fed at least ten times. Tony and Peter slept between her naps (she slept almost 17 hours a day, but she woke up a lot during those times) and they barely got out of the house. They were lucky Peter was in vacation and that Tony decided to work only in September. And when June 19th, Father's Day came, they cried holding their daughter. It was difficult, not impossible

July:

Tony and Peter learned how to take care of the colic’s and slowly learned the baby’s sleep schedule. They mastered the art of holding her just right and of calming her. Peter would sing ‘In the wee small hours’ for her when she was awake in the early mornings. Tony finally went back to doing exercises, he couldn’t go back to being Iron Man just yet, but he could start losing the baby weight. It was weird, looking at his flaccid belly and realizing it would never be as it was before and that practically every being could be hotter than him right now in his Alpha’s eyes. Well, he considered himself lucky enough just for the fact he didn’t had the baby blues.

The Fourth of July was a memorable night, Tony always though that that one Fourth of July with his family was the most beautiful that he would see, until he spends that Fourth of July with his Alpha and newborn Morgan (she was one month old on the fourth of July). Tony and Peter spend that day with the Avengers and Ted and MJ, doing a barbecue in the Terrace.

They were worried that Morgan would get scarred of the fireworks noise, because she was napping when the dawn came, but that was the thing, Morgan was such a fuzzy child that when she slept, it was for real. And when the beautiful fireworks started to blown high in the sky, Morgan just opened those big brown eyes (oh yes, Morgan's eyes ware brown just like her fathers) and silently watched the sky light up. And Tony and Peter went back to their home smiling for each other.

August:

August came in as did the heat and they finally managed to leave the house more frequently. Tony’s Instagram feed was all about work, but they had dailies requests of interviews or photoshoots by magazines and newspapers. They said no to all of them, of course. Tony was dedicating himself everyday in the gym and kept a calorie track, he also didn’t drink alcohol for almost a year now. Peter was so proud that he made special breakfast and delivered it in Tony’s bed. The Spider-Man works now were in a good schedule and it was all light work. Peter seemed to be creating a separation anxiety, he went out alone and came back super-fast.

In middle August they decided to take a little vacation, their first vacation since ever, really. So, Pepper managed to book a whole trip with maximum security, in a way that nobody even knew hey went there at all. They spend 8 days in a beautiful cottage near the beaches in Carmel-by-the-sea, California. The whole place is faraway of the chaotic, energetic buzz of New York, and it’s a place where they can walk holding hands and with the stroller in front of them.

They buy groceries and cook in the beautiful kitchen, all while watching Morgan. She was 2 months old; she started the tummy time and she had lost all the baby fat and her tiny face was staring to get a more lady-like shape. She was much too young to enjoy the beautiful views, or the amazing food but her colic’s were starting to fade, and she was becoming less grumpy, which made going out with her more enjoyable. They did, however, took tons and tons of pictures of her, and videos and tiny frames of her near the ocean, specially when she gave her very first smile to Tony when he placed her near the ocean.

When they were back and safe at the Penthouse (Tony and Peter had tan marks all over), Peter quietly posted the picture he most loved yet: a selfie Tony took of them, with his arms around Peter while Morgan was in the kangaroo around his torso. The ocean was behind them and they had the biggest smiles ever. He wrote “Loving this newer life right now”.

The picture gets the insane number of 13 million likes in 3 days.

September

September was a very smooth month, Morgan was getting a consistent around her body, so she would take some toys and shake them, and she would smile so freaking much that she got herself the nickname "Smiles" from Steve and Natasha. She was introduced to good music by her parents, Tony would sing "Metallica" for her as a lullaby and Peter would sing Elvis Presley songs to her. At mornings, they would have a mix of 50-60 good rock'n roll as breakfast.

Tony went back to work, nothing heavy, just some tinkering in the lab and some adjust in the armor. Peter had to go back to MIT in the beginning of September and he once again struggled to be separated from Morgan and Tony. Since around Tony’s 8th month of pregnancy, they didn’t had sex yet. Peter kept saying he was fine with that, but Tony could smell Peter’s arouse sometimes in the morning and he was angry at himself for not functioning the way he was supposed to work. He couldn’t help it, his self-steam was so low, he didn’t believe that he would ever come back to his original shape.

Tony confessed this to Peter, about his body’s insecurity and about how nervous he was about MIT( Peter would be surrounded by beautiful, smart and young omegas, most likely they saw the Instagram photos and Peter would be a cute, young and family Alpha, just waiting to be taken). Peter made sure to assure Tony that he was more than okay how they were and when that didn’t work, Peter threw Tony into the mattress and fucked the doubts out of him. Their first time after the baby wasn’t sweet like on the early of their relationship, it was rough, it was almost 5 months of pent up stress and sexual frustration being translated into pulls and pushes, moans and groans and a spectacular orgasm for the both.

(Don’t you worry, May was babysitting)

October                           In mid October, the wind was starting to get cold, so the heating system had to be availed and changed. Happy invited them to have Morgan first Tricks’ Treat with them. So, them put a Strawberry costume and had dinner at the Jones. By the evening, they went to some houses and asked for candies for Morgan, but every house knows that Tony and Peter would eat every single of the sweets. Morgan is a healthy child, Dr. Scott says when she turns 4 months old, her sight, hearing and reflex are OK by the doctor and she has grown into a good weight and high. Tony posted a picture of a Strawberry costume and some candy at his worktable and the photo is a total hit.

Peter had MIT works now, so he didn’t go as Spider-Man as much. Morgan was such a happy child now; colic’s were almost forgotten. She gave her first laugh while she was in her highchair in Tony’s lab. DUM-E dropped a screwdriver in one plate, and she found it oddly amusing. She’s going to have a wicked sense of humor, that one Clint says once and Tony couldn’t agree more.

November

November 3th came and Morgan made 5 months, it was a beautiful and lazy Sunday. She already slept long periods at night, almost 6 hours at once (than she woke up and just needed attention). This week she learned a new trick: to sit all by herself. She also has been rolling around like a drunk person for almost two months now. Her gummy smile was everything to them.

On Sundays like this, Tony took care of Morgan for Peter’s studying time and during the week, Peter studied during Morgan's nap time. So Tony was sitting there, playing with Morgan while she was in their bed, making bubbling sounds for her, clapping hands for her and putting her over her tummy and well, being a child himself. When Tony heard something falling over in the lab and turned around and yelled: ‘Are you alright Peter?’

In this little window of time, Morgan rolled throw the bed and fell hard on the ground. Her piercing scream was heard from the entire Penthouse and Tony’s heartbeat went crazy. He lifted his daughter and tried to check for any injuries while also crying with her. Peter (he dropped a circuit table) heard it and reached them already so scared, he planned to take the baby to the hospital but in reality, Tony was sited on the ground, crying with Morgan, and Peter ended up hugging them until they calmed down. (They take her to the doctor eventually, but she wasn’t harmed).

December

Peter’s December vacation comes earlier than what they thought. There had clothes enough for themselves and had outfits for Morgan until she's one year old, but she didn't had outfits for a winter, so after they decided where to go for winter, they took some money and went to buy some clothes. Peter wanted to buy durable outfits, who could keep her warm for the entire winter, but Tony wanted cute coats, pink boots and a red hoodie who said "MERRY CHRISTMAS" so logically they fight for every single piece of clothes.

The one who seemed to be enjoying this was Morgan. At 6 months old she had made two discovers; one is that teeth coming out were bad and they should stay where they were, two is that was that her voice was beautiful. Morgan didn't talk but she bubbles all the time. She could have deep and thoughtful conversations with whoever was closer to her, in her bubbling language. She also recognizes her own name and all of hers nicknames and she also signed "yes" or "no" with her head.

Peter and Tony didn't know if she knew what those gests meant or if she learned that her parents would laugh at those gests. But well, Tony asked if Morgan wanted the red hoodie over the boring gray sweater that Peter wanted, and Morgan signed "yes" screaming loud her option. She also signed "yes" for four choices from Peter and two for Tony. They came back to their home with full begs and Tony bought a medium size Christmas Tree and put it on their TV room. They travelled to Norway to spend Christmas, they rented a big house and all the Avengers came. They passed the Christmas day with a beautiful meal, Christmas songs and all that jazz, and Santa Claus brought toys to all the children. They passed the New Year’s skiing and the kids (Clint’s kids) played with Morgan and was a perfect night.

Tony and Peter made sweet, sweet love on Christmas Eve and they smelled happy through the whole month. They posted a series of pictures of them near the Christmas tree and wrote “Merry Christmas and a happy New Year” under. It was all in a dream.

January

January was Morgan’s 7th month. Now she had 4 perfect teeth (which they had to brush everyday) and she just now learned how to crawl. Her favorite toy was a tiny Iron Man doll (Rhodes gave it to her). Tony and Peter had to stimulate her motor skills every day. She could also sleep 8 hours straight and make most of the sounds and her favorite food was smashed carrots and apple juice. Her dark hair had grown enough to make pig-tales on her, and her face was getting a more consistent shave day by day.

They came back from Norway in January 3th and the NY winter weather hadn’t been great. When Peter had to go back to school and suddenly Iron Man was needed, they reached a disagreement. Happy watched Morgan for that day, but they decided that maybe was time to find a daycare for Morgan. They took the top pick from their pre-made list and applied to put Morgan in there. The daycare was really exclusive, but they opened a place for Tony Stark’s daughter. So, in the end of January, Morgan went to her first day away from he’s parents.

Peter was so emotional in that day, he gave Morgan to the teacher; Miss Perry, but couldn't seem to stop cry all the way to MIT. Tony didn't cry but he did stay in the Daycare a little while after Peter went to away, just to be sure that Morgan was adapting. And Morgan was........ loving the Daycare!

While Peter cried holding her and Tony was all worried about "distance", Morgan looked at them the entire time with a face that said "Are you guys for real? ". She seemed to love the fact of more kids in the Daycare and she liked of all the teachers; Miss Perry, Miss Ashley and Miss Lettie. Of course, that she cried at noon, because an older child got her big plushie from her. At seven months, she could crow and roll around places and she could recognize usual voices and her own name but one thing that made she gave the "What? "face is that he’s teachers called her "baby" not "Morgan" as it should have been said.

At the end of the day, Tony picked her up and him and Peter made hamburgers for dinner. Peter was supper excited about his course, he now had new friends. Tony got so happy for him, and Morgan was so tired of the Daycare that she easily went to a deep sleep. And after that the Stark-Parkers felled into an easy routine.

February

At 8 months old, Morgan already loved her big plushie and could be a little possessive. She also learned that flus were bad. Actually, all the Stark-Parkers learned that flu's were bad. But when she got sick, they were desperate, thought Morgan's Doctor, Dr. Scott say that it was okay to have flu's at that age. So, he gave some light medicine and send very home again. The media finally seemed to catch them for the first time, paparazzi were following Peter one evening and Morgan looked really into the camera. That picture, the first picture of the Stark-Parker baby’s face was covered in at least 3 different tabloids. All these times they didn’t show Morgan’s face, too scared of what the media could do.

It was a real bummer, but they kept going with life. Almost every Omega that came across Peter seemed to want him, even when he was out with Morgan or in a date night with Tony, they would still give him his numbers. It just served for them to fight and to fuck like two teenagers.

March

Morgan was the smartest child in the planet! At least it was what Peter thought when, at 9 months old, Morgan said her first word. Since Morgan started to mumble some sounds, Peter and Tony had a competition of if Morgan would say "mommy" or "daddy" first.

But then, in a Sunday morning, Tony was making pancakes and some sweets for Peter and Morgan and they were listening "Jailhouse Rock" of Elvis Presley. Morgan was moving herself, dancing in the Highchair and making her usual mess with pancakes and apple juice and suddenly, while Peter was changing Presley music, the long word "Jail" was screamed by Morgan. That was enough to send them to the moon. After that they would have the camera always on, and Morgan learn that "Jail" was a big answer. She was also trying to stand alone.

April

Morgan gave her first steps in late April. Tony and Peter were sitting in some puffs on the balcony, with the records playing Tears and Fears, and Morgan was laying on Tony's stomach, with her belly for the air. She could sing words like "Jail, Juice, Ice" but she didn't say "Momma or Daddy" yet. Suddenly, rolled over off Tony's belly and started to crawl in Peter's direction. Peter was recording them with their camera, and he captures the exact moment when Morgan got up and gave her first steps towards her. They barely couldn't hold the shouts of joy. Tony felt his eyes watering. Just months before, the thought of having a child scared him so much and now here he was, watching his tiny daughter giving her first steps into the world. He watched as his Alpha jumped and shouted of joy while holding their baby and thought to himself that everything seemed right if it led him to this moment.

June

Tony and Peter started to plan a vacation travel to a lake in Arkansas, with Ned and MJ. On the morning of June 3th, Tony woke before Peter. He started quiet, staring at his beauty, he kissed his lips and got up real quietly. He enters in the yellow-lilac-green room, the morning sunshine going throw the window, lightning the crib. And there Morgan slept deep and in peace, she was so big now, her skin was white and soft, she had a brown hair and her eyes were a light shade of brown, not like Tony's eyes but pretty close.

Tony stayed for minutes there, just looking at her, when she first woke up, she rubbed her eyes sleepily and opened the biggest smile Tony have ever saw in her face.

"Good morning Morgan" said an amazed Tony, she looked at him and said a trainless "Morning Daddy". And just like that, Tony was crying. He couldn't believe that 1 year and 8 months before, he was alone, chasing monsters and running away from his problems. Now here he was.

Working 9 to 5, coming home to his Alpha, kid and a home. Morgan was looking at him like she couldn't get why he was crying, but she standup in the crib and lift her arms, asking to be picked up. He picks her and kissed her cheek and hugged her very tightly. Suck it, Peter! She got Morgan first steps but Tony got "Daddy" first.

"Happy birthday Morgan Happy Stark-Parker “said Tony, but only the word "birthday" got her attention.

'Cake? “she said, looking at him and clapping her hands. Birthday was cake for her, and Tony clapped his hands too, agreeing. She holds his face, pointing with her middle finger to "pay attention" to her and said "juice”, which meant breakfast first. Tony took her to their small kitchen and put her in the highchair and one bottle from the fridge. Tony was dressed in grey sweatpants and shirtless, showing off his flat tummy.

Tony wasn’t back at his original shape, but he was close now. Tony made some pancakes and made formula for Morgan, all listening to Asia. Morgan was making a mess with the pancakes. Peter came to the kitchen already dressed in a day outfit and kissed Morgan's entire face, so happy. After breakfast, Tony got dressed in light clothes and went to the city to make a bunch of things and Peter stayed to prepare the things.

Tony picked a pink-and-lilac medium cake, soda, yellow and purple balloons and red solo cups. Peter dressed Morgan in a pale green dress, with a white tiara holding her brown hair and dolls shoes. The house was filled with balloons, was cleaned and the barbecue was ready to be made. Clint and Laura brought their kids, they also brought two dresses, pink and purple and a pair of shoes. Ned, MJ, the Avengers, May and Happy (they were a thing now), even Fury and Hill came to give congratulations to baby Morgan.

The afternoon was passed with laughter, meat, soda, beer and kids running around.

When all of them were gone in the evening of Sunday, Morgan was where’d off, after eating so much cake and a good warm bath, she was so sleepy. She passes out around 8 p.m. After all of this, Tony and Peter set on green puffs, looking at their trashed apartment, drinking hot beers and making out like two teenagers.

Before they went to bed they passed at the nursery, to check her one last time. They got caught up watching her sleep peacefully, Tony reaches out and put her little hair out of her face so they could watch her better. Peter hugged Tony from behind, resting his chicks into his shoulder.

- We should have another one- Peter said quietly. Tony looks at him surprised.

- I think she’s happy being an only child.

- I think she would love to be a big sister- Peter faces Tony seriously- Lets have another one.

Tony couldn’t deny Peter anything, really.

.................................................

Opinions?

P2D2

Cecilia Dickson

Halbert Barton

SOC 3-001

27 February 2020

How One Musical is Changing the Future

“For one thing, it is—by cold critical standards—the worst of the lot, with a repetitive score, painfully forced rhymes, cartoonish acting and a general approach that mistakes decibel level (literally and metaphorically) for emotional intensity” is what New York Times critic Ben Brantley wrote about the cult musical Be More Chill after it’s opening on Broadway on March 10th, 2019. Be More Chill is a musical by Joe Iconis with a book by Joe Tracz, based on the young adult sci-fi novel of the same name by Ned Vizzini. It follows high school loser Jeremy Heere on his quest to become popular by taking a pill called a with a microcomputer inside of it called a SQUIP, which implants itself into Jeremy’s brain and helps him to be more chill. Many shenanigans follow. Sound weird? It is, but that is the point.

The bad reviews did not stop at the Times. Mashable called it “a disappointment” and The Hollywood Reporter stated it “contains serious problems.” So, does it come as any surprise that the show closed five months after opening?

From the outside looking in, no. A bad Times review is a bad Times review, and a bad Times review will close a production. But a step into the Lyceum Theatre’s doors while Be More Chill played on it’s stage would suggest an entirely different story.

Excited teenagers dressed in full cosplay, standing ovations after the show’s hit “Michael in the Bathroom” belted out by George Salazar (who plays Jeremy’s best friend, Michael), a screaming stagedoor crowd that caused passersby to stop and see what celebrities where coming out (they often left disappointed), fans crying as they got to meet their favorite actors—The two pictures put together do not make much sense. What made this musical connect with this young crowd in ways that theatre critics missed, causing the show to close despite its enthusiastic audience?

Fourteen-year-old Luna discusses the wide expanse of diversity the show contains. “I especially saw this in George Salazar's performance,” she says, “with someone who's half Filipino, like me, playing such a major role in the show!” Similarly, another fan, Jenn, describes how “as a fellow Filipino who is also part of the LGBTQIA+ community, it honestly made me feel so seen for the first time” to see Salazar, a gay half-Filipino, half-Ecuadorian man, perform on a Broadway stage in a lead role. “It made me tear-up.”

The representation does not stop at race. Another fan, Skylar, says that “the fact that a character actually says ‘Oh my God, I am totally bi’ literally makes me want to sob” in reference to a bisexual character, Rich Goranski. Salazar’s character wears a rainbow pride patch on his hoodie and has the famous line, “My mothers would be thrilled!” that caused fans in the audience to scream and cheer nightly.

Beyond representation, many people love the show because of it’s message. Twenty-five year old Erika states “It gives a voice to all the weirdos and people with anxiety/depression but in a way that's also comedic and colorful and fun and people really need that!” Similarly, twenty-eight year old Kayleigh describes her experience connecting to the show. “Then, when we got to [the song] “Upgrade” and [the lyric] ‘I'm tired of being the person that everyone thinks that I am’ was sung, and I immediately began to cry in my seat because, for the entirety of my life, I've worn a facade, quieting my interests and my desires in order to make other people happy . . . I felt seen as a person.”

If representation, from race to sexuality to mental illness, is what drew people to Be More Chill, the community is where people stayed, finding their home in it’s fandom. Through being mutual fans of the show, Luna met her girlfriend, Taylor, who happily explains “also because of [Be More Chill] I have a girlfriend! She is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.” Kayleigh and Erika have found friendship in a Twitter group chat called the “Vintage Cassettes,” a play on a lyric in the show, while Luna and Taylor have true, close friends in their Twitter group chats, all formed because of their members’ mutual love for Be More Chill.

The community of Be More Chill fans—often called ‘stans’—is unlike your average fandom scene. Kayleigh describes how “being a stan of Be More Chill means being accepting of people's identities and being there for each other,” and Luna says, “in my experience, Be More Chill stans have been a lot more welcoming than stans I've interacted with in other fandoms.” Be More Chill stans are “loud and passionate” and unashamedly so.

Returning to the question at hand of what made this show connect to its audience, it was how the show was so open and welcoming, with it’s diverse cast of whacky, fun, weird characters, it allowed people to see themselves onstage. It shows people that there is a place where they belong. Luna remarks: “As someone who has stanned theatre for more than three years, it took my discovery of George and Be More Chill just over a year ago to get me to understand that I, a mixed race LGBT+ person, do have a place in this world and in this community.” Be More Chill gave so many people one thing that every person needs, a place to belong, and people to share that place with.

And while the show is not every person’s cup of tea, especially theatre critics, the stans know that. “The show isn't perfect and doesn't try to be,” Taylor says. “Be More Chill is one of the most loved and hated Broadway musicals, which makes the fandom very different. We are all very close and very protective of the show as a whole.” But, speaking on the show’s importance, Taylor states that “Be More Chill gives people a voice that they didn't know they had.” Jenn describes how “that kind of impact is something not to be undermined.”

And it is true. Influences such as Be More Chill are important in society. The fandom behind Be More Chill has given people a family, a found family. It has inspired young people of color, young LGBT+ people, like Luna and Jenn, showing them that they have a place in this world. The show’s message and how it handles topics such as mental illness has connected to millions across the globe. The societal influence of Be More Chill is far greater than any Times review or single opinion. It’s influence has inspired young people, connecting them to friends on the other side of the world, providing them with support they often do not find at home. It is showing young people that they do belong in this world, and in doing so, it is shaping the young people— the future—of this world.

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Glossary Terms:

Cosplay: The practice/art of dressing up as a fictional character

Stagedoor: Where actors enter and exit the theatre - often, this is where fans traditionally meet the actors. Stagedooring is the act of waiting at the stagedoor after a show to meet the actors and have their programs sign, a loved tradition by many theatregoers

LGBTQIA+: An acronym referring to the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, intersex, asexual, etc., community

Stan: A shortened version of the term stalker-fan, which started out with negative connotations, but in recent years has come to be a positive term meaning super-fan. It can also be used as a verb to describe the act of becoming a stan. For example: “After hearing her new album, I totally stan Taylor Swift.”

Fandom: an umbrella/unifying group term for people who are avid fans of a piece of work

Found family:  A group of people not related by blood who consider themselves to be a family in every other sense of the word

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Works Cited

Brantley, Ben. “Review: Anxious Teenagers Learn to 'Be More Chill' on a Big Stage.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 11 Mar. 2019, www.nytimes.com/2019/03/10/theater/review-be-more-chill-joe-iconis.html.

Scheck, Frank. “'Be More Chill': Theater Review.” The Hollywood Reporter, 11 Mar. 2019, www.hollywoodreporter.com/review/be-more-chill-theater-review-1193609.

Strecker, Erin. “'Be More Chill' Will Probably Be a Broadway Hit. Too Bad It's Also a Disappointment.” Mashable, Mashable, 10 Mar. 2019, mashable.com/article/be-more-chill-review-broadway/.

Survey #231

too lazy to even think of song lyrics to put, just have this

Do bridges make you nervous? Somewhat. Are there any movies that you find so dumb, you find funny? Aha, Napoleon Dynamite. Do you have any older siblings? Four + one I don't know. How often do you vacation? Pretty much never. Are you currently having any cellular problems? My phone is ACTUAL horse shit. Have you ever tried to meet up with someone from online? With Sara, multiple times now. :') It'd be fantastic if when I go to South Africa I can meet Shaylee when I visit to the KMP, and my other friend Alyssa knows how badly I wanna meet Mark, so she insists on me going with her one day if he ever goes back to PAX East. I'd love to meet Connie, too. If you could have any car right now, what would you want exactly? Eh, I don't know car types. Something medium/smallish (I don't want very small for safety reasons) that's either burnt orange or red and just pretty and sleek. Do you think it’s cruel to leave a live fish to die in an ice box? Um???????? YEAH????????????????? Have you ever done anything sexual with someone of the same sex? Yeah. Do you collect issues of a certain magazine? No. Have you ever pawned anything off at a pawn shop? Nah. Do you have stomach abs? Ha, I wish. Do you know anyone who is trying to physically impersonate a celebrity? No, but oh my god, so my friend Leon, right? He looks UNCANNILY like Leon Kennedy (WEIRD name coincidence????) from the Resident Evil series so much that he dressed as him one day. The resemblance is fucking unbelievable, especially when his hair was longer in the front. Do you have the Bakery Story app? Haven't heard of it. Do you watch Sister Wives? Haven't heard of that, either. How do you feel about polygamy? It's definitely not for me, but if it's KNOWINGLY between a consenting, happy group of people, you do you, man. Just hardcore practice safe sex. Have you ever seen a shuttle launch? No. What would your parents say is the worst thing you’ve ever done? I haven't got a clue. I'd assume Mom would probably say me texting her "fuck you" even though she deserved it. Dad, probably the letter I wrote him after the divorce. Are we having signs of the apocalypse? I don't even remember the Biblical signs besides like, swarms of locusts and humanity's focus shifting to materialism. I say rather we're having actually scientific signs of a mass extinction coming in the next few centuries, probably, or sooner. Historically, we're extremely overdue for one, anyway. Global warming, the ozone, overpopulation, pollution... you know, all that jazz. We're killing the earth. Would you rather see The Blue Man Group or Fear Factor live? Blue Man Group. Do you have any vintage clothing? Man, I wish. Are you glad to accept any certain person’s hand-me-downs? "As long as it fits and it’s like, clean, I guess?" <<<< This. Have you ever bought anything at Rue 21? Yeah, I like that store. The graphic tees section, at least. What color of colored contacts would you like to have? Like, purple or something. NO, cyan. Gimme a Manson feel. What’s on your bed? Me, Teddy, Roman, my laptop and mouse, my pillows, sheets, blanket, phone... Your floor besides furniture? My bookbag and purse. Wires. Shoes. Your dresser? My meerkat collection, along with some other plushies. The top shelf in your closet? I have no clue. Are there any dead stuffed animals in your house? Uh, you mean taxidermy? No. I am viciously against hunting "trophies." HOWEVER, I'm deeply into vulture culture and have mixed feelings about making art of NATURALLY deceased wildlife... A part of me says that's disrespectful, and then the other says it's very honoring and respectful, to immortalize an animal's beauty as art after experiencing a good life. It's something I semi-want to get into, but again, I'm torn on my thoughts about it. Do you know anyone who goes fishing, but doesn’t like fish? Do you mean like, eating fish? I'll fish with Dad if he invites me (I otherwise stopped as I don't support it if not necessary for food, but this has always been my and Dad's "thing"), but I hate fish as food. If you mean they don't enjoy fish as animals, I don't think so. What’s the best prize you’ve won on an amusement park/carnival game? I don't have a clue. Have you ever done anything sexual in a school? No, besides simple kisses. Have you ever been indoor skydiving? No. Would you have any interest in going on a cruise? No. Being out in the ocean scares me. Have you ever been to a Chinatown in any of the cities you’ve been to? No. How old was the oldest person you’ve dated? Maybe like, five years older. Do you know anyone who has their own podcast? No. Have you ever been to couple’s counseling? No. How many children do you want, and how did you decide on this number? None. I decided because 1.) I would be a terrible mother, 2.) I'm not putting anyone's well-being above my own ever again, 3.) I'm not dedicating the remainder of my life trying to raise someone who might end up not even caring about me, and 4.) they're fuckin expensive and I've been poor my whole life and will do almost anything to keep my bills and expenses in general as low as possible. Where did your last kiss take place? The airport. Did you often read for fun when you were a kid? Oh, definitely. I loved reading. ^ What were some of your favorite books? Little-little kid books included Stellaluna, What Makes a Rainbow?, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, The Rainbow Fish, 10 Minutes 'Til Bedtime... a lot. As like an elementary student, I was really into the Magic Tree House and Hank the Cowdog series. Then in middle school, Warriors dominated my bookshelf. Are you more of a visual learner or an auditory learner? Visual. Do you have any dietary restrictions? No. Do you prefer Google Maps, Apple Maps, Waze, or something else? I've never used any. What is your favorite coffee brand? N/A What is your favorite tea brand? N/A Have you ever worn false eyelashes? No. I probably only will for maybe my wedding. How old does someone have to be for you to see them as an adult? 21 I guess. Do you ever ‘manspread’ when you sit down? Uh. I actually don't know. I don't pay attention. Which of your good habits has made the biggest positive difference in your life? Coming to understand I have to put myself first, probably. Or learning how to talk to myself gently. Have you ever dated someone who was very lazy? No. Have you ever turned down a job offer? No. Have you ever been fired from a job? No. I always quit too early for that, really. Do you overuse smileys? I don't think so. At least not anywhere near how I did as a pre-teen in the "LOL rANdoM!!!!!! XD" phase. Who is better; Madonna or Blondie? Idk. Who is better; Elton John or Billy Joel? BILLY!!!!!!! Name three website you visit every day: YouTube, Kalahari Manor, and deviantART. Have you seen all of the Jaws movies? Tyler and I watched the first one. I don't remember what I thought about it, really. Have you ever worn black eyeliner? "Yeah. That’s the only kind I wear." <<<< This. Have you ever worn blue mascara? No. That'd look weird on me. Hm, or maybe not. Maybe it'd bring out my blue eyes. Ever spiked your hair? No. How long have you had a computer? I don't have a clue. Have you ever written something, and published it on the internet? Well yeah? When was the last time you played cards? (not on the computer) Hell, forever ago when I was at Colleen's with Girt and we played CAH. Can you play chess? Nope. When was the last time you read a book over 700 pages long? Shit man, no clue. I don't know if I ever have. Have you ever drank cherry Coke? GOOD STUFF Do you prefer using pens or pencils? Pencils, considering you can erase. I avoid using pens if I can. Have you ever skipped for a long distance? Maybe as a little kid? Are you excited for the holidays? Halloween was disappointing, as I did absolutely zip. I honestly don't care about Thanksgiving. We always just go have dinner with Ashley's bigot in-laws. I'm VERY hyped for Christmas 'cuz I'm probably gonna be with Sara!! Can you play any instruments? I played the flute for years, but I don't think I could remember how to now. Are you a Facebook addict? Nah. Are you afraid of stink bugs? YEAH. I hate beetle-like insects. Do you have a printer? Yeah. Does anyone own any embarrassing pictures of you? HAHAHAHA I HOPE SHE DOESN'T STILL HAVE IT, MY FRIEND ONCE TOOK A PICTURE OF ME IN THE MIDDLE OF EATING A HOT DOG AND I JUST REALLY HATE IT. Do you still live at home? Yeah. Are you currently enrolled in college? Yep. Do you care what others say about you? Way too much. Have you ever played Farmville? No. What is your favorite video game? Silent Hill 2 and Shadow of the Colossus. What song represents your life the best? "Get Up" by Mother Mother makes me think of myself A LOT. Are you into anime? Yeah. Name one movie that has made you cry more than once. The Notebook. Always. Do you watch the Disney Channel? Not anymore. Do you swear? Way too much. Do you overthink things? You wouldn't BELIEVE how much I do. What’s the largest animal you’ve ever had as a pet? A fuckin ginormous black lab until Ashley moved out. He wasn't even full-grown. Do you own any kind of helmet? No. What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had? As a kid, I was running on the gravel road and slipped and fell. I scraped my knees to the point of pus coming out. It took a loooong time to heal. I cried SO fucking loudly. Bad, bad memory made only worse because Dad got so annoyed by it that he yelled at me to shut up. Happy beyond words he changed so much after the divorce and stopped drinking. What is something you like to have conversations about? MARK and other YouTubers I love to an unreasonable height, meerkats, vidya games I enjoy, RP, bands I love... What all is in the trunk of your car? I don't have a clue. Do you ever put fruit on your cereal? EW no. I hate that shit. How do you usually celebrate your favorite holiday? By doing nothing, lately. I don't have anywhere to go, so no point in even dressing up. Plus I can't afford costumes. When was the last time you drove something other than a car or truck? Uh. I have zero clue. Have you ever eaten/drank something and then realized it was past the expiration date? Probably at some point. Do you own any jewelry containing your birthstone? I have an amethyst angel pin from my grandmother. When I was in high school and going through my most suicidal phases, I wore it on my shirt underneath my hoodies. What is something unusual that annoys you? Hm. Well, I think this resonates with a lot of people at least to a mild degree, but it really angers me when people don't put their shopping carts back and just sit them in/by a parking spot. Fucking lazy as hell. Does mind over matter work for you? Rarely. What was the last thing you were invited to? No clue. Well, besides the obvious things like my niece and nephew's b-day parties, I don't know. What item should never be shared? Stealing the last person's answer: your toothbrush. What do you usually order at Taco Bell? A cheese quesadilla and fiesta potatoes. Sometimes the cinnamon delight things instead of the potatoes. Have you ever sat all the way through Gone With the Wind? No. Does drinking alcohol make you act more like your true self? I don't know if it's my "true" self, but I'm more extroverted and calmer. Have you ever googled a name and found somebody? Uhhhh so this is probably so incredibly creepy, but I jumped through hoops finding Jason's landline a few days before my suicide attempt because I was absolutely desperate to talk to him. It was in the dead of night and his sweetheart mom picked up and spoke with me for like two whole hours trying to calm me down. Jason was asleep, apparently. I miss that woman. She was so patient and gentle that night. Okay I'm honestly getting pretty emotional recalling that night so MOVING ON. What is your favorite possession? My iPod, really. I've had it since middle school and has 1k+ songs on it that I, like an idiot, am too lazy to back up... soooo when it dies, which it's WAY overdue to do, I will probably tear the world in two. What makes you feel like you are young again? Laughing hysterically. Especially when I do this little squeaking sound. Girt pointed it out all the time and since then I've actually paid attention to it and it's fuckin cute tbh. Are you picky? You. Don't. Even. KNOW. You have one wish, what would it be? World peace. How tall is the person you like? Shorter or taller? She's just like two inches shorter at 5'2''. How tall was the tallest person you’ve dated? Fucking hell, Girt was AT LEAST 6', I'm sure taller. I only reached his chest. How many foreign friends do you have? Oh boy, plenty. Well, I'd say most are acquaintances, but still. I've been on the Internet too long. In which countries do they live? European countries and Australia are the ones I know off the top of my head. What was your dream birthday party as a kid? Hmmm, probably going skating with my friends. What’s the most interesting story you’ve never told anybody? I don't know. What’s the most complicated meal you’ve cooked? Nothing. Have you ever come up with your own game? As kids, my sisters and I did a lot. What is something you value a lot in your life? Having a home, food to eat, a family that loves me... the basics that unfortunately many people don't have. Whose hand did you hold last? Sara's. What was the last thing you planted? Habanero peppers, I think. What or who was the last thing you gossiped about? *shrugs* When's the last time you helped a senior citizen somehow? Probably by holding doors open? What's the most selfless act you have done? Probably compromising my mental health to help others. I dunno. Have you ever intentionally fed a house spider? wtf no get out of mah swamp Are you clumsy? If so, how? I'm a newborn deer ffs. I bump into and trip over shit every day. How many Lidls are there in your town? None. I think. I think the closest is in the next town over. How do you like your favorite beverage? Cold and freshly opened 'cuz carbonation. Are you going to any concerts this summer? Ozzy Osbourne is very likely and I am NOT over it even though that was decided forever ago. Have you ever been to a concert? Once. What do you do when you can’t escape thoughts of your ex? I have PTSD from that relationship, getting away from those thoughts isn't a thing until my brain decides it's over it. Like I mainly just look for a distraction, but honestly, the only thing that seems to be truly effective is time or sleep. Do you watch any TV shows where the setting’s a hospital? I enjoy The Good Doctor, but I've talked about my disinterest in TV plenty. Did your first real significant other change you at all? HI HAVE YOU HEARD OF THE BREAKUP??????????????? Are you waiting to have sex until you’re married? Nah, not anymore. I broke that "promise" anyway through total cheat methods or whatever you want to call them, but I'm ultimately glad I thought I was obeying abstinence through that time considering honestly with how serious we were and how impulsive I was, I genuinely wonder if I would've wound up pregnant. Let's NOT IMAGINE THAT ROUTE. How many schools have you been to? Six. What’s your favorite color to wear? Black. Isn’t it lovely when your S/O smells good? I mean yeah, would anyone answer "no"???? Who’s your favorite actor? Mark is an official actor now don't even fuckin try me about this Who can make you laugh no matter what? *points up* + Sara and Game Grumps. Has a movie ever made you cry? Which one(s)? The Notebook, A Walk to Remember, Titanic, Old Yeller, The Lion King, Coco, Finding Dory, Johnny Got His Gun... man, a lot. I'm a baby when it comes to movies. Do you keep a list of movies you want to watch so you don't forget? No. What was the last song you heard for the first time and enjoyed? It was one of Highly Suspect's new songs. I think it was called "Snow White." What do you prefer -- the original fairy tales, or the Disney versions? Disney. Would you like more film adaptations of traditional fairy tales? Yeah, I enjoy them. Are there any comic books you'd like to see made into a movie? I don't read 'em. Are there any comic book movies you wish had been better? ^ Have you watched the Good Omens series yet? Thoughts? No. Who are some of your favorite female fictional characters, and why? Yrel from World of Warcraft is a fucking badass that needs to come back, I love Heather Mason from Silent Hill 3 with her being a realistic, relatable, and headstrong female protagonist that takes no shit, Bayonetta is my Mommy like have you seen that girl work (she served as some of my first evidence I wasn't straight, actually), I love Cynder from The Legend of Spyro saga with her personality overall and story... there's a lot I love. OH! Ellie from The Last of Us is impossible to not mention. It's beyond debate she's one of the toughest females in video game history, and it was interesting to watch her grow up in a post-apocalyptic world where horrors and tragedy were so normal. Something you didn't like that happened in one of your fave shows/books? GINGA DENSETSU WEED SPOILER: I will forever be livid Jerome died sobs I loved him more than I love myself. THE OUTSIDERS SPOILER: Dally's death devastated me. A character (in anything) you wish hadn't been killed off? Vol'jin's death in WoW was fucking stupid and entirely anticlimactic. Make the guy warchief & then Blizz doesn't know what to do with him and lets trash kill him, such shit writing, look guys I'm fuckin tilted about- What was the last video you saw that made you smile? Oh my god, I watched a clip of Shane Dawson at the Mall of America with Jeffree today, and he was physically in a state of shock, entirely speechless, and in tears. My lips were about to split my face in half smiling and almost crying. He deserves all he's getting right now beyond words. What's something exciting that's happened recently? A Heist With Markiplier was the best thing that ever happened to me ok. What about something upsetting? My grandma going downhill so fast. Cancer cells are now clearly visible in her blood. Do you have any calluses on your feet? So possibly TMI so look away, but I used to walk SO MUCH that my feet, especially my big toes, have the thickest calluses you could probably imagine. They bother me so much that I want to see whatever kind of doctor that can get rid of the damn things. Nothing I've ever done has helped get rid of them. I've CUT areas off in hopes of them going away, but it always heals BACK into a callus???? What was your last big purchase? Teddy's vet visit. Have you ever eaten grits? Grits are disgusting. What is the name of your YouTube channel, if you have one? 0zzkat. Do you wear the same shirt and shorts multiple times before washing? It depends on how long I wore the shirt and if I sweat. You'd never see me in shorts. What color is your favorite lip gloss? I don't use gloss. How many different states have you lived in? Just one. Are you allergic to bees? No. What color is the rim around your bedroom mirror (if applicable)? Black. What is your favorite flavor of saltwater toffee? I don't know if I've ever tried that. Have you ever vacationed on an island? No. What does your favorite bikini look like? Remember how I said you wouldn't see me in shorts? That goes even more for bikinis. What flavor was the last slushee you had? Strawberry limeade.

My 2019 Garbage Book Dump

It’s 2019! I’m tired, I’m hella gay, and I’m still reading books as much as I can with my busy life! Enjoy this book list with reviews! 

1. Thunderball: 5/5 stars. Mormon jokes. Making fun of dietary changes? A young Italian woman (girl) who controls the island with her beauty. It becomes a mission against nuclear threats against the Europe and the US? Not exactly the MOST thrilling James Bond book, but I had a lot of fun reading it. I’m glad this was my first read of the year!

2. The Lydia Steptoe Stories - Faber Stories: 4/5 stars. I found these short, tiny books in a local bookstore. There were 6 of them on the table and I bought three. Sometimes I wish I bought all of them, but not all of them spoke to me. The Lydia collection was interesting as it held three stories with: a young man being “seduced” by his aunt, a young girl wanting to be a dominatrix, and a woman who wishes she could be youthful again. While I didn’t find the stories awe-inspiring, I did find them extremely entertaining and nice to think about.

3. Emma Cozy Classics: 5/5 stars. I have the pride and prejudice one. While it might not be as fabulous as a full book, but the pain-staking skill of felt art is entirely impressive. It went on my Jane Austen book shelf.

4. Come Rain or Shine - Faber Stories: 3/5 stars. What would you do if your friends thought you were absolutely insane and their lives are falling apart worse than yours? What would you do if your friend asks you to play absolutely stupid to his wife to make him look better and for her to realize her life isn’t so bad that she got lucky enough to not marry you? I for one, would drop these fucking friends and never look back. The story was a fucking train wreck and absolutely insane to the point where it wasn’t even humorous to me. Several authors state it’s Ishiguro’s step into comical writing and I wish he wouldn’t.

5. Passionate Minds - Women Rewriting the World: 1/5 stars. I found this book at my Uni’s free bookshelf. I was super excited to read this book but it’s one of the dullest and full of biases book I’ve had the displeasure of picking up. I got to read about my girl Gertrude Stein but I was expecting more female writers, not actors who the writer obvious gets off on. There’s nothing wrong with that, and this book has rave reviews, I just couldn’t stand the writing style and obvious fawning she had (and not in the academic/historically reserved way authors should be).

6. Wandering Island Vol. 2: 4/5 stars. It’s been two years since the first volume came out. I found myself reading it in record time which has me both disappointed and a bit confused (not because I read it fast, but because of the strange editorial ending). The art is impeccable with a few questionable “obviously a man drew this” moment, the story has kind of been a bit muddled up and didn’t necessarily go anywhere this volume. It felt more of a build up for Volume 3 which I don’t know when will be released. The editor wrote this strange 6 page essay that started off they were going to postpone Wandering Island 3, then went on a long rant about how the manga editing world has changed with ^-^ faces all throughout, only to then write fan theories of where they think the story is going to finish with: “We’ll translate the pages as soon as they come out! ^-^” what the fuck?? Haha

7. Fun Home - A Family Tragicomic. 5/5 stars. I bought this book today and I finished it this evening. I’m still processing everything that happened but one thing I know for sure is that I found one of my top 5 books of 2019 as well as a new favorite already. Alison approaches a hard topic of coming out, learning about her father’s secret life of being bisexual, and coming to terms with the strange person with anger issues that was her father. While my father wasn’t gay, there were several elements of her father I saw in my own. The volatile anger, learning more about his life after his death, hearing shattering truths from your mom, the regret of not having conversations sooner and him not seeing who you truly are before their passing. It struck a chord with me and I’m going to be thinking about this comic book I feel like for two months.

8. The Real McCoy: 4/5 stars. This is like a small wikipedia pamphlet book about the famous names, phrases, or lyrics you might know. I wasn’t necessarily impressed with the booklet, but I found some of it entertaining. I gave it a high rating because it served its purpose but I’m totally gifting it to a friend who loves random facts.

9. The Heart Affirming: 5/5 Stars. Epic poems about the Greek Gods, the universal feeling of appreciating nature, the wondering of the cruelty of humanity. This is a rare find of a poetry book not popular and one I found at my local library book sale that was signed by the author. If you have the pleasure to pick up this 1939 poetry book, please do! It’s a treat from the past that shows we still yearn for the same poetic romanticism we did then to now.

10. Bloom: 4.5/5 stars. I’ve realized I’m going to graduate college in the fall and this weird depression hit where I realized my life is really finally going to change forever. So I’m having a mixture of senioritis where I don’t want to do any work when I’m done with school by Wednesday, and I’m having a mid-century life crisis where I don’t know what to do with my life (I mean I do, but it’s terrifying). So I went on a LGTBQ+ splurge on amazon, something i haven’t done in awhile, Bloom was one of those books. Bloom is a fast paced comic about a high school graduate who wants to move out and move on, but his friends are dicks and his parents want him to stay. Welcome the new hot boy whose grandma just died and conveniently loves to bake. Ari wants to leave the bakery and this new hot guy is just his ticket to leave, or is it? I really liked this comic for the art and the story line was refreshing. But there were several instances where the book moves really quickly and the development was… meh. HeartStopper has great, slow pacing that lets you feel like the characters and story moves in a believable way. Bloom is rushed in some parts, but still.. So cute.

11. Spinning: 5/5 Stars. 2/4 of the LGTBQ+ books I ordered have been read! I read this book the day before valentine’s day and I’ve already been in a weird mode/crisis of being a university senior. I, loved this book for all the reasons why people gave it 3 stars. Everyone stated the story didn’t wrap up, that i jumped, that it felt fragments, but if you read the very end the author state not all books should make sense or follow a timeline or be accurate and these followed her own recollection without revisiting anything. I really appreciated and I loved the style. It’s a heavy book with sexual assault, manipulation, child abuse, and a very unhappy protagonist who isn’t likeable. But at the same time, finishing this book I just felt such grief that I didn’t pursue an art career. That I didn’t just join an art program or give my art career a chance. I think when I’m in the end of my career, retirement, I may go to art school again or maybe I’ll splurge money on lessons or maybe I’ll just accept my art as is. Either way, this book made me fiercely jealous of a 21 year old. It reminded me of a famous story of my dad reading a book about astronauts and crying in the bath because he should have been an astronaut, and how this book made me want to cry because in some form I should have been an artist. But like my dad, we’ve both chased careers that really inspired and gave us amazing opportunities. But I think it’s natural to miss over those childhood passions you didn’t follow through with because you felt like you weren’t enough.

12. My Solo Exchange Diary Vol 2. 2.5/5 stars. I read the first volume last year due to prompting from one of my precious friends (Ramona). My loneliness with Lesbianism was AMAZING. I bought it. My Solo Exchange Diary felt like the author was rambling in circles, completely mentally unwell, and had no ideas of how to properly take care of herself. In Volume 2 she was able to search for some help and she was able to deal with some introspective thoughts about how her viewpoint might have been wrong and how she was toxic to herself and her family. Volume 2 still left a taste in my mouth that felt… weird? She’s moving in the right directions but I think she’s desperately trying to follow the hype of her lesbian hit manga and she’s failing due to her wants to surpass herself. I laughed and felt bad as she mentioned how people slammed her for Volume 1, so it felt very meta to read how she reacted because my comment was also criticizing her: read here. But if you’re reading it in a bookstore or a library, do it. It’s nice to see how she’s slowly making progress with herself.  

13. Sputnik Sweetheart. 1/5 stars. I picked this up in Brussels in the select few english section because the cover was intriguing and the back cover claimed it was a lesbian story. I was so excited, and imagine my absolutely hatred when I realized a straight cisgender man had written a “lesbian” story through the eyes of a straight male who is lusting after his lesbian best friend. He proclaims he gets boners at looking at her breasts and how her eccentric style only makes her that more beautiful just to him. I hate everything about this book. I wish straight cisgendered men would leave lesbian narrative stories alone unless you’re going to write them right. Get the fuck out of my books.

14. Fortunate Beasts: Letters to Lucardo Vol 2: 5/5 stars. The long waited and anticipated sequel to Letters to Lucardo!!! It’s been two years since I read the first volume, supported it on kickstarters, and I’m going to keep funding each release until the quadiology is complete! This had a lot less background building, exciting sex scenes, but you now understand the two lovers and get to see them develop their budding relationship. While it wasn’t as smut riddled as I expected, I was very happy with the continuation!

15. The little Lame Prince: 2/5 stars. DNF. Did not finish in case for those who don’t know/can’t remember (I hardly remember what DNF stands for myself). I’m torn as I want to eventually finish this book but I’m just not in the mood for it. It’s a sweet story but is very slow and from what I can tell, repeats itself a lot. It’s a old book from the early 1800s which explains the somewhat hard language and problematic moments, but it’s still charming. I’ll debate when I’ll try this again. For now, it’s returning to my shelves with a bookmark in the pages.

16. Shounen Houkokusho. 5/5 stars. A shounen-ai soft, wholesome gay family about a little boy standing up for his dad’s long time partner and asking them to get married. Very sweet. So precious. I love.

17. Same Difference and Other Stories: 4/5 stars. This was a reread from my friend Mark who gifted this to me back in december of 2014. It’s been 5 years since I picked up this book and I decided to see how its changed. As an adult, this comic speaks to me a lot louder than it did nearly half a decade ago. Struggling to find your way through life, seeing all your high school “friends” getting married, having jobs, meanwhile you’re just.. Here. Definitely a story I needed to revisit again in the future and also I still appreciate Mark’s notes he left in here for me!

18. Amazing Women: 101 Lives to Inspire you: 4/5 stars. This was my gift after finally being cut loose from the cancer clinic. I never had to go back there again and so I decided to pick up a momento. This was the book I chose that they offered. I really appreciate how they cover diverse women from all over the world rather than American-centric. They don’t go further than 1826, keping mostly within 200 years which is a bit of a bummer. There were also some choices I felt were questionable, like Zoe Sugg (who had her book ghost written and scams her viewers) and that they didn’t have Alison Bechendel was a huge disappointment. But this book is opinionated as they did have to narrow it down to 101 women, so I’m never going to be happy unless I pick my own. I also appreciated that if a diplomat was assassinated they mentioned it in the book.

19. The Epic of Gilgamesh: 5/5 stars. I learned about the Epic of Gilgamesh back when I was a itty-bitty sophomore in high school. I remember being so intrigued and would draw my gay ass characters as the Harlot and Endurk. I think I still have the drawings somewhere and they’re cringey. I bought the book and it’s been sitting on my shelf for YEARS. I did a deep clean of my bookshelves last night from 11:30 pm - 4:30 am, and this morning I just wanted to read since I haven’t been able to for months. I loved it! I love creation myths, old myths from “lost” cultures, plus the language was hella gay in this story. It’s a short 61 pages, so if you have like an hour or two and are in the mood for some myths baby, pick it up!

20. The Making of Pride and Prejudice: 4/5 stars. This book is chalked full of interviews from staff, actors, photos of the sets, and a bit too long section on the director and writers moaning about a script. I loved the photos of the behind the scenes and reading Colin Firth’s reluctancy to take, arguably, his most iconic role because he didn’t care for classical movies. Thought they were boring. Really a cool book to have if you’re a big Pride and Prejudice 1995 fan.

21. Greek Myths: 2/5 stars. I love the artwork in this book, but the author shows a lack of research when he writes the Roman names for the greek gods. I’m all fine with showing a Roman cultural story, but if you’re writing a Greek Myths story, BITCH use the Greek names!!! If it wasn’t for the artwork, this book would be traaash.

22. Wicked: 5/5 stars. I’ve been in a reading rut for almost a month where I’ve felt unmotivated to do anything. Since going back to brief counseling and getting my head on straight again, I’ve felt the motivation to read. I’m also doing the 2019 OWLS for a Wandmaker and this was one of my assignments. I absolutely loved Wicked. The musical came in last month and it reinvigorated my love for the show. I’ve been wanting to read the book, it’s been haunting me for awhile and I found a back of the Wicked series for 5 dollars at my library sale. Snatched that bitch up. I read this 408 pages in two weeks, probably would have in a week but school. God, I related so much to Elphaba. Not so much the whole, feeling like she has no soul, but taking school seriously and not making friends, coming from a religious family and rebelling, feeling like she’s responsible for her whole family, (not feeling like she’s attractive) and seeing her growth and becoming more comfortable with herself really made me feel better about myself? It’s a super dark book, but it’s great. It’s really great.

23. A Children’s Guide to the Night Sky: 4/5 stars. This was essentially the condensed and easier version of my Stars and Cosmology course I took two years ago!! I sped read this and some of the greek myths they described were dumb down/removed the queerness of it. Which is why I took off a whole star.

24. The Life-Changing Manga of Tidying Up: 5/5 stars. Hello Marie Kondo. Everyone is on a cleaning kick/obsessed with Marie Kondo. I liked this comic because it was short and also made her book in a bite size, story drive style. I liked its simplistic form!

25. Julian is a Mermaid: 5/5 stars. I’ve had my eye on this book for a year, ever since it was announced in Goodreads’ monthly list. I found the last copy and snatched it up. I like the muted colors, the art style, the different bodies, and letting little boys know it’s ok to dress up as mermaids or anything feminized. A great message!!!

26. Kiss Number 8: 5/5 stars. This is one of those random comics I saw in the new releases and the cover caught my eye. I read the first few pages and decided to buy it. I loved it as it’s a coming out story but the main story isn’t revolved around coming out. It’s about the complicated nature of family, coming out through the years, and trans themes. I know some people say this book and the characters are transphobic due to misgendering and dead names used, but the main character is catholic. Her family are mega catholic. She’s going to a catholic school. Of course there’s going to be misgendering and dead names used! It’s how people naturally react to news. If you’re super sensitive, I wouldn’t read this book, but I loved it to bits. I held it to my chest like I do rarely with those books that give you the warm feels.

27. Elephi - The Cat with the High IQ: 5/5 stars. This was a book I grabbed at a close down sale. It’s about Elephi who sees a small fiat car abandoned in the snow outside and decides to use his brains to get the car inside the fifth story apartment. The author really knows how cats act and I felt like all the mannerisms were perfect for a year old cat(kitten). Really a cute book that I read in 40 minutes??

28. One Happy Tiger: 4/5 stars. A book about a tiger counting friends. Cute. It’s a children’s book. Not too substantial in anything.

29. The Language of Thorns: 5/5 stars. Ok WOW. I bought this about a year ago during B&N’s signed deals where they just had a ton of books signed by the authors. I’ve seen this book floating around on BookTube for awhile and I decided to check it out at the bookstore. The illustrations sold me and I bought it. Imagine the already dark Grimm’s fairy tales, but darker. More context for the characters: Ursula, the Nutcracker, Hansel and Gretel but if Gretel was the only one at home. Really amazing stories and if you’re interested in dark, pretty illustrations that change with each page, pick it up!

30. Satoko and Nada vol 1: 5/5 stars. Ramona and I went to B&N yesterday, just sitting around like two useless gays reading a bunch of manga. This is one she picked out and told me to read it. You know me, as a white academic I am constantly on the lookout for narratives that aren’t white and can educate me. This was one of them! Satoko is from Japan while Nada is from Saudi Arabia, both are exchange students in the US. Their friendship, learning about each other’s cultures is so fucking cute. ;0;

31: I Hear the Sunspot vol 1: 4/5 stars. I docked this down from a 5 star rating because it just jumps into a established plot. I had no idea if this was a continuation from another series or if the author purposefully just threw us in the mix of an established gay relationship but they’re not really (they are but they’re confused) with some flashbacks that looks like it came from another volume? But despite those factors, the art is gorgeous. The characters are well developed and have complex background and stories to tell (one of the main characters has a degenerative hearing issue and will eventually become deaf).

32. Building Writing Center Assessments that Matter: 4/5 stars. This was a required text I had for a independent study I was a part of where I created a assessment of the climate of where I worked. This is a great resource in learning how to build assessments from scratch, and if you’ve never conducted one. I found the information they gave was limited to assessment of students who use the a writing center, while my assessment was more focused on how safe, valued, and heard those who currently work in the space feel. A great way to step into assessments!

33. Mary Ventura and the Ninth Kingdom: 4/5 stars. This was the first fictionalized piece of Slyvia Plath I’ve read. I can understand why it wasn’t published at first. There’s a lot of loose ends. Why was Mary going to the Ninth Kingdom? Why is everyone so placant in going to a “hell” type place? Also what the hell was the ending and her running away? This story left a lot to be answered, but I also love that about this short story.

34. Momo to Manji Vol 2: 5/5 stars. Volume two of one of my favorite historical yaoi mangas. It’s still hasn’t been fully translated just yet but I love it all the same!! So many complex characters, relationships!

35. Sweet Blue Flowers Vol 1. 5/5 stars. The first edition of a 5 volume series. Ramona told me to read this and I devoured the first book! Wholesome young girls falling in love with each other! Boyish girls who are heartthrobs! Unrequited love galore! Definitely going to check out the rest of the volumes!

36. Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me: 5/5 stars. Man. This comic took me through a roller coaster of feelings. First it kind of made me miss the constant interactions I had with people in junior high and high school. It also reminded me heavily of my first gf and I wondered if she and her friends viewed me as Laura Dean (in terms of being too cool. I never cheated lmao. And always just out of reach). It made me melancholy for a younger me who was also hopeless in love with their best friend. It was a wild ride, but one I recommend wholeheartedly!

37. Lovable Lyle: 5/5 stars. I’ve been looking at this little crocodile for awhile and I’ve come to the conclusion he is me. This book was silly but heartwarming as Lyle is beloved but suddenly receives letters from his sworn enemy. They try to ignore it, but they are persistent until they catch the culprit. Fucking ridiculous story but I loved every second.

38. The Great American Pin-Up: 5/5 stars. It was really cool how they sectioned off each famous artist of pin-ups. Some of them were tasteful nudes, semi-nudes, or lingerie teasing moments. As someone who is both gay and used to draw pin-up girls, this is a great reference!!!!

39. Drawing the R.A.F.: 5/5 stars. This book is one of those rarer finds. A british artist was commissioned to draw the officers of the R.A.F. in the middle of World War II. Some portraits are far better than others, but the worser ones are attached with amazing stories. Such as a 6”6’ pilot having to be physically shoved in a spitfire. These are fantastic and the art work is really beautiful.

40. Where’s Will? 4/5 stars. Where’s Will is a William Shakespeare version of Where’s Waldo. The art is beautiful and the hidden characters are extremely clever. However, I remember so often spending hours upon hours trying to find Waldo and the extreme satisfaction of finally finding him. Where’s Will I could find him within 5 minutes. It never went long enough to the point I feel worn and frustrated and finding several more interesting characters. He stood out more than he should and I flew through this book that Waldo would find insulting! But the illustrations are beautiful!

41. Carr’s Pocket Books - Florence Nightingale: 4/5 stars. This mini collection of Nightingale’s journals throughout her life is really interesting. As a woman who revolutionized what it meant to be a nurse and nurse practices, it was nice to see her own words from age 9 to 90. She was an elegant little girl with her writing and she showed wisdom beyond her years. Did I learn anything substantial about her work? No. But I did come to know her on a far more personal level that I appreciate.

42. Carr’s Pocket Books - How Horatius Kept the Bridge: 5/5 stars. Another one of these small pocket sized books I bought in Oundle, England. I don’t know why, but I’ve just been desperate to go through my books and get rid of any and all that don’t speak to me anymore. I also just want to read, a lot. This was part of my kick this week, trying to get through as many as possible. This poem story is about Roman soldier Horatius and how he single handedly took the Bridge against the Greeks. It’s a military triumphant, silly, and mystical, but I really enjoyed the structure of it. It was short and sweet.

43. Echoland: 3.5/5 stars. Echoland follows Arvid, a 12 year old Norwegian boy who visits his grandparents in Denmark for the summer. However, he’s growing up and he’s realizing that his parents are strained for some reason, his sister is too grown for him, and his grandparents are getting older. This book was confusing. It was short, quick, and I think younger children would enjoy this book more than me. It deals with more adult themes but through the eyes of a 12 year old. However, I found a lot of the storyline to be confusing: Why does Arvid not want to be touched? Why are his parents fighting?? Why does he hate all the men in his family? Why is he pushing everyone away? Why are his parents putting up with his attitude? There are a LOT of questions I have and there’s no real answer to be found. Maybe it’s the author’s style, but I found the story to be not as believable, but still enjoyable.

44. Mathilda. 2.5/5 stars. Mathilda was an audiobook I listened to as I suddenly got a migraine at around 6 pm and it didn’t let up until around midnight. The last three hours I’ve been listening to it. I thought this was Matilda from Roald Dahl but was instead by Mary Shelley herself. This was a very bizarre story. I really enjoyed the first half of the story which is about Mathilda writing a final letter to her best friend upon her deathbed. She’s retelling him her tragic story and how the death of her father was her fault. Her childhood was very bleak, touch starved as her mother died and her father abandoned her to his half sister. Her half sister wasn’t warm to her and saw her as a pest, which had Mathilda growing up til she was 16 without a father. Suddenly her father decided to return and within 2 months of his return her aunt dies, and now she’s in his custody. At first everything is fine, until her father starts to lash out at her and is very distant. He at first wants Mathilda to replace her mother and then rejects the idea. They go for a walk and Mathilda presses her father to tell her his deep secret and why he hates her all of a sudden. He refuses until she presses on and then he tells her that he lusts for her. She freaks out, he almost dies in the woods from shame, and then he leaves the next morning. Mathilda is then angry because SHE wanted to leave her father, but because he’s abandoning her again she chases after him. She finds him dead in a hotel room and then Mathilda begins to resent life and living. The story was great up until she decides to chase her father after he leaves her. It became a jumbled mess and Mathilda herself says her mind is a little mad with her decisions. The story started off as an intrigue with beauty descriptions, intense, and then just went bat shit crazy. The story ended on beautiful reflections on nature and how death is not beautiful for those living, but it really lost me. The last hour was a drag. I would definitely suggest listening to it if you have a migraine!

45. Megume to Tsugumi: 5/5 stars. Gay comic, lmao.

46. Golden Sparkle: 5/5 stars. I don’t remember the plot but it was cute.

47. Maltese Falcon: 2/5 stars. I was forced to read this for a film and literature class. Everyone was ranting and raving how the main character should be a male role model but that’s extremely stupid. Look, I love bad male representation (looking at you James Bond), but he was just trash. I get this is a famous crime novel, but GOD. It’s bad.

48. Maiden & Princess: 5/5 stars. This was about a maiden going to a ball who everyone thought she would marry the Prince. Except she and the Prince are best friends and she really fell in love with his sister. We love pride month books!

49. Prince & Knight: 5/5 stars. A gender-swap of Maiden & Princess except this was a Prince who goes off to slay a dragon to save his kingdom only to fall in love with a knight and marry him. SO GOOD.

50. Komi Can’t Communicate, Vol. 1: 4/5 stars. My friend Ramona told me to read this volume since she read it and loved it. While I loved the art and Komi, the story line was just a tad flat for me. It’s a really fun series if you like high school semi-romance but mostly heavy on friendship~!

51. What was Stonewall? 3/5 stars. This was one of those children informative books where they retell a piece of history. I thought this was great for children who know nothing about Stonewall but are hearing it from Drag Queens or in June for Pride History Month. I thought the information about Stonewall was short and concise and also good for children, however the book did verge off point and talk about other points of history as well as random actors who are gay. This is good, but it isn’t Stone wall, you know?

52. Pride: The Story of Harvey Milk and the Rainbow Flag: 4/5 stars. I watched Milk and I cried at the end. I’ve been wanting to know more about how Milk created our Pride Flag and this was another one of those books where it’s curated for children. So I appreciate the run down version it gives us, but they had to “modify” what the stripes mean, such as purple being Sexuality. Let kids hear the unfiltered truth!

53. TBH #1: TBH, This Is So Awkward: 4/5 stars. This was in the teen new released section and it’s a book of text messages. I hated this book, but also was way too invested in it when I was reading it out loud to my date. It’s just a bunch of middle school people sending love notes, getting the Valentine’s Day dance cancelled because they won’t stop using their phone and their principal said “Social Decency.” And then it ended by one of the girls bringing the valentine’s day dance back by creating a Task Force to enforce no texting during school. It was fucking wild and I loved every page I flipped through and wrote in.

54. Adaptations from Short Story to Big Screen: 4/5 stars. I liked it well enough, it was a textbook so I didn’t really read the stories in-depth. However, there are two stories I absolutely love which are Field of Dreams and Smoke Signals.

55. Our Father Who Art in a Tree: 5/5. I loved this book. It’s very true to the experience of what it’s like to be depressed and the first few months of deep grief. While I didn’t lose my parent until my teenage years and my brothers were older, but the strained relationships grief causes is so fucking poignant.

56. Little Miss P: 5/5 stars. I know it’s strange, because it’s a man writing a book about periods, but this was an excellent book. It really showcased the love-hate relationship women have with their periods and also sometimes accurate representations of what it feels like.

57. Ginza Neon Paradise: 4/5 stars. I don’t remember reading this manga! (I’m updating my book list after some months)

58. Na Leo I Ka Makani/Voices on the Wind: 5/5 stars. A book of history and photos of native Hawaiians, royals, and other cultural aspects important to the island. Some really cool photos.

59. Satoko & Nada vol. 2: 5/5 stars. Satoko and Nada are back again, continuing on with their studies and friendship. This book still continues to teach westerners some cool Eastern values while the main characters are learning about each other as well. I think the 3rd volume will come out soonish and that might be the end!!! I love this little series!

60. Annie on My Mind: 5/5 stars. One of the first lesbian novels to show a happy ending with the characters. It’s very much a high school love story and first real love. There were some parts of the story that were absolutely aggravating, painfully embarrassing, but also really heart warming. It’s a queer foundational book in literature, and if you’re interested in the history of queer literature, this should be on your list.

61. Killing Stalking: 5/5 stars. The comic finally ended. I started reading it in 2016 and finished in 2019. God was it a ride. It was full of conflicting feelings, creepiness, and an ending that leaves the reader confused, fulfilled, and also not fulfilled at the same time. I wouldn’t suggest reading it for those who are squeamish with gore, violence, and dark sexual themes, but it’s a fantastic read into what it’s like to experience stockholm syndrome and intense violent trauma.

62. Go for it, Nakamura!: 5/5 stars. A high school student falls in love with his popular classmate, but his classmate doesn’t know he exists! A cute gay book about falling in love, making friends, and pushing yourself to achieve your goals!

63. The Great Gatsby: 4/5 stars. The next two books are books I listened to while deep cleaning my room. It took me two days to fully clean my room, and this was also a challenge for my N.E.W.T.S 2019. I remember reading this book in high school and liking, and I think I lent out my copy and never saw it again. I bought it recently and decided to give it a re-read/listen. I think reading the book would have made it more engaging to me, but I found the themes to not be as impressive as an adult. Maybe it’s because I can’t relate to the characters or their choices are so dumb that I just can’t believe it anymore, but it was still entertaining to listen to. The narrator was great!

64. Emma (Narrated by Emma Thompson): 5/5 stars. This feels a bit like cheating because this rendition was not only abridged, but also had live actors. I’m very familiar with Emma, and Emma Thompson as the narrator was a genius move. However, do I feel like I read/listened to Emma? Not really.

65. Fresh Romance, Vol. 1: 4/5 stars. Half of the stories were very confusing and not very good. However, I really loved two stories about a Regency marriage and a spin off of Beauty and the Beast. I would read this volume just for those additions.

66. Pilu of the Woods: 5/5 stars. A cute story about emotions, friendship, and the woods. It even has a recipe on the back I want to read it!! The colors and characters are adorable. The storyline might not be as solid, but it’s a great read!

67. Ou-same to Puppy Love: 5/5 stars. A foreign prince falls in love with a neat-freak government official. Queue stupid boys in love!

68. Sugar Days: 5/5 stars. Childhood best friends, one small and manly, one tall and feminine, both love each other without having the courage to tell the other!!!! Very cute!!!!!

69. The Tea Dragon Society: 5/5 stars. I remember seeing this book a year ago and how everyone was ranting and raving about it. However, I never bought it or saw it. My best friend brought it over the other day for me to read and I could finally see what the fuss was about. QUEER CHARACTERS, LITTLE DRAGONS WITH TEA LEAVES GROWING OFF OF THEM, MULTIPLE REPRESENTATION!!!! IT’S SO GOOOOOD!

70. Luminous Animal: 5/5 stars. A jazz poetry book. It’s interesting how Tony Moffeit can write the same theme over and over, with the same lines but in different poems with different perspectives. It was really cool!

71. Still Mostly True: 5/5 stars. A weird poetry book that has philosophy and deep meaning poems with also weird ass drawings. However, my poetry book had inscriptions from someone else to their friend. The inscriptions were sometimes very annoying, but also kind of heartwarming how this friend made sure her friend knew she was thinking of her and loving her.

72. Sky, Wind, and Stars. 5/5 stars. A poetry book that was a Korean activist who was murdered by the Japanese through medical experiments for his radical poetry. We watched the movie in my Korean History through film class, and I loved it to bits I wanted to read his poetry. The movie downplayed just how radical his poetry was. Even as a English speaker, I can clearly see the activism, Korean pride that was written during the Japanese occupation. It was a wonderful poetry book, and an important one to Koreans at that. If you have the chance to read it, please do.

73. Memoirs of a Geisha: 5/5 stars. Haley (one of my bffs) recommended me this book like 3 years ago. It’s her favorite and I kept saying I would read it. August was the N.E.W.T.S. challenge and this fit the category of “audiobook” as I listened to a fan read audio of it and then had to read the last 7 chapters. I completely see where my friend finds inspiration in her writing from this book! I really loved the sad story, the harsh reality of Japan, even if this book was more on the idealized version of WWII in Japan and how Geishas were. Some of the thinking of Chiyo I feel could be chalked up to white men ideal sexualization, but overall I really enjoyed this book! Plus the fan who read it was really into her characters and she made the experience really fun.

74. Be Prepared: 5/5 stars. When you’re poor, Russian, and have the All-American-Girls as your best friends, life is extremely hard. No one likes your Russian food, the smallness of your home, and listening to a language not their own. VERA NEEDS SOME FUCKING NEW FRIENDS. As someone whose best friend is Russian, has a sister-in-law who is Russian, and a nephew learning to speak Russian, some people are really insensitive and it drives me nuts. I know a lot of people are upset with this book because it’s not a “full memoir” and yet is described as a memoir. I’ll just pose the question, can you remember 1 month straight at 10 years old, from people to dialogue? No? Yeah, cut the book some slack. This has great representation in terms of Russian culture and learning through it from little Russian eyes.

75. Kiraide Isasete: 5/5 stars. It’s another gay manga.

76. I married my best friend to shut up my parents: 4/5 stars. While I appreciate this story is light-hearted, it seems a bit far fetched for my taste. Also the main character doesn’t believe she’s gay, so I find it hard that a) she would actually get married and b) would just readily fall in love with her friend when she’s literally had no sexual desire for anyone. But other than that, it’s a ridiculous love story and it’s to the point!

78. Heartstopper V.2: 5/5 stars. I already read this awhile ago but I finally got my copy! So I’m just putting it in my list!

79. Raven: 5/5 stars. Raven is the first installment of the origins of the Teen Titans characters. I really loved this novel since Raven has always been a dark character in the original show. This book explores her experience with death, coming to terms with her birth origins, and New Orleans with ancient magic. A great start to a series I’m looking forward to reading the rest of!

80. Heartless. 4/5 stars. A child is taken care of by a succubus (male) after a religious cult burns down a hospital to get rid of the succubus. This story is intense in the gore and horror, but pretty light in plot. There’s no real driving force behind the characters and what they do, no explanation, it’s all just there for the reader to assume it just happened. But the characters were dynamic and interesting with superhuman powers and abilities.

81. The Adventure Zone Vol. 2: 5/5 stars. Every time I see Madame Director I sigh in relief because she exactly looks how I envisioned her while listening to the podcast many years ago. The story line is short, I feel like some of the build up jokes are lost or the frustration Griffin has with his brothers and dad that make the podcast so hilarious are missing, but it’s a really beautiful comic and also a great way for people to start listening to TAZ and MBMBAM

82: The Wind in the Willow: 4/5 stars. An audiobook I listened to. I had the paperback but it was too much reading for my mind for a classic children book. When I found the option on Libby, I listened to it as I started my preparations for the start of my final semester as an undergraduate! It went by fast, the actors were in their characters and there were some songs performed. I really enjoyed it, even if Mr. Toad is ANNOYING AS FUCK. Would recommend for those wanting to kill 2 hours of their time.

83. Classmates: 5/5 stars. High school sweethearts? Can’t express their feelings well? Uh, sign me the FUCK uP.

84-108. W Juliet: 5/5 stars. I haven’t read W Juliet since I was in 7th grade. I remember that I loved it so much that when I was in high school I began collecting the volumes and proudly put it on my shelf. I used to have two bookshelves worth of manga, and when I grew older I sold them but only kept two series: Marmalade Boy and W Juliet (I’m gonna read Marmalade Boy next). I’ve been wanting to reread W Juliet recent and revisit Mako and Ito’s silliness, and with the long weekend I did. I was not prepared for the analysis it would give me to my own life. Like, holy shit. This manga series was so important in developing me who I was as a kid, (some of them very mild kinks that my rp friends are subjected to), the loss Ito has and her issues with gender and like 100000% me and how I don’t like masculine guys at all with their toxicity (hello Mako, you summer child boy). I honestly want to do a fucking research paper on this series with an analysis of myself because of how much I love this series and how I connect to it. You can bet your ass this manga is coming with me for the rest of my life.

109-117. Marmalade Boy: 3/5 stars. Marmalade Boy was the manga that started it all. I remember being 8, having found the manga section with my best friend, and we decided to share reading Marmalade Boy. I was so captivated by the story that I made her wait in the car at her house, refusing to let her have the book until I finished it. It was the final of the volume, and it wouldn’t be another 3 years until I read the series OUT OF ORDER. I kept rereading this series, picking it up, I remember it felt like watching a movie. As an adult? God this series is really awful. The characters are very annoying, the teacher is very creepy, the plot moves WAY too quickly, and no one knows what consent is. It’s fucking insane. 1-7 volume is trash, but the 8th volume really put to life in the characters. For one, they’re older, it's been a few years, and they can step back from the crazy lives of high school. If it wasn’t for the sheer nostalgia, I would be giving these books away. But you gotta pay respect to those books that introduced you to life changing moments.

118. Ouji to Kotori. 4/5 stars. An art student, a prince who buys him, trying to escape, foreign lands, a story that has a “romantic” but is open ended. I liked the flow of the story, the art, and the characters were actually believable.

119. Mean Girls Club. 3.5/5 stars. Mean Girls Club is a 1950s tale of girls rising against the patriarchy through sex, survivor, drugs, and murder. The art style is amazing. But the story line is flat and feels rushed. Not a favorite, but still pretty enjoyable.

120. Grumpy Monkey. 5/5 stars. Grumpy Monkey is the story of a monkey who wakes up grumpy. Despite everyone not believing he can be so grumpy on a beautiful day, him denying that he’s grumpy, and getting angry at people telling him HE’S grumpy, is such a goddamn mood. Nothing pisses me off more than people telling me my mood. You don’t know me. Fuck off. Anyways, this also felt like a mental health book for kids, letting them know it's ok to NOT feel ok. As long as someone is willing to listen and not wanting to fix your grumpiness.

121. Dia de los Muertos. 4/5 stars. A children’s informational book about the Day of the Dead. Short, simple, great education.

123. Wild Cherry. 4/5 stars. Wild Cherry is a poetry book I’ve been totting around for 2 months but have had no energy to pick it up. I’ve been very depressed that I haven’t had time to read, and despite me falling asleep right now, I forced myself to read it. It felt very repetitive after a while with her constant calling back to long lost love, death, and April, but I appreciated the 1923 themes that were NO doubt soo popular.

124. Through the Woods: 5/5 stars. A horror comic book that reminds me a lot of “Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark.” I lent it to my co-worker since he loves these types of stories!

125. Dancing with Mr. Darcy: 1/5 stars. I read the first story which was Jane Austen crossing the River Styx and facing her judgement and then I tried to read the rest and it was all so fucking boring??? I put the book down and will not be continuing.

126. The Night Diary: 5/5 stars. So this was an audiobook I listened to during the week I had awful vertigo. I couldn’t go to work or university and I laid on the couch, glasses off, just listening to this story. If it hadn’t been read to me, I don’t think I would have loved it as much. It follows Nisha who is forced to leave after WWII when India is split into New India and Pakistan. All muslims are allowed to stay, but all Hindus must leave for New India because of territorial wars. It follows the dreadful path during the desert, the violence they faced, and the child’s innocence slowly being robbed from her. It’s all told through Nisha’s diary who pens it to her mother. The voice actor did a wonderful job.

127. We Contain Multitudes: 5/5 stars. Tiny twink nerd falls in love with Giant Jock football star. And then he falls in love with the nerd and they’re hormonal and coming out and angst with love. I understand why people are upset with the novel: the plot twist seems like a total cop out that the author placed and a 15 year old dating a 18 year old can get borderline statutoary rape. However, I absolutely loved this book. It was refreshing to have a “coming out” narrative that wasn’t focused on coming out, but rather these two boys falling in love through letters, reading the cringe of HS romances, and desperately following these boys through it all. It’s definitely a favorite I read this year!

128. Lovely War: 4/5 stars. This is the third book I read while going through vertigo, and my second audiobook. It’s set during WWI, following two love narratives but told through the perspectives of the Greek God. It was really refreshing, the voice acting was excellent, and I really enjoyed listening while dizzy constantly. I would have given in a 5 star rating, but near the end, Hazel’s pixie-manic girl stereotype was getting out of hand and her hypocrisy was really fucking annoying. However, up until that point, I really enjoyed it and recommended it to several friends!

129. The Assassination of Brangwain Spurge: 4.5/5 stars. I really struggled not giving this book five stars, but I thought some of the narration and story-telling could have done a tiny bit better. This was a great audiobook to listen to while I packed and finished projects before my plane ride to my first ever work conference. I was bummed out that I couldn’t listen to this audiobook on the plane because Libby requires wifi, but I really enjoyed the fantasy comedy of this book (even though fantasy tends to be a topic I don’t dare approach because it just through you into a world with no explanation). 10/10 would recommend to strangers on the street.

130. Aaron and Ahmed: 4/5 stars. I read this books during my great “aaaAH I’M GRADUATING TIME IS UNREAL” So these will be short. A story about after 9/11 and the brutality American soldiers went to gain answers, even if there were none.

131. The Tea Dragon Festival: 5/5 stars. Dragons? Tea? LGTB+? Who could ask for more??

132. Roadqueen: Eternal Roadtrip to Love: 5/5 stars. Lesbians calling out how trashy other lesbians treat girls who generally like them. “Fuck Boy” was used a lot and I loved this.

133. Skull-face Bookseller vol. 1: 5/5 stars. A skeleton tries to sell manga and explores the crazy customers who come in, the social mistakes foreigners make with Japanese booksellers, and Honda-san doing her best to survive in her job.

134-136. Beastars Vol 1-3: 5/5 stars. I saw a bit of the anime and realized there was a manga. I bought the two volumes I could and then the third one from amazon. I really enjoyed this series and look forward to reading it more!

137. I hear the Sunspot Vol 2: 5/5 stars. It’s nice to see the couple going on, even if its GUT-WRENCHING and stupid how they refuse to communicate!!!!! But it hits hard topics of the community for the hard of hearing and functioning in a world where signing is considered not important enough to teach.

138. Pink: 5/5 stars. A sex worker who spends all her money feeding her alligator and the trouble she gets into. Weird art style and at first I opened this book and didn’t buy it. 3 months later, decided to buy it and I adored it.

139: Restless: 4/5 stars. I don’t remember much about it, but I think it was cute. Maybe boyfriends find each other again?

140. How can one sell the air?: 5/5 stars. I’ve had this “calling” to start really reading native american stories and heritage. This is a controversial book with Suquamish people as they either see their leader finally giving up or instilling courage to stay firm even as the world does their best to destroy them. I really enjoyed reading his speech.

141. Skull-face Bookseller Vol. 2: 5/5 stars. Honda-san comes back again with her friends and exploring working in the shop with more crazy customers but also with her new found fame being a manga artist.

142. Gold Rush Women: 4/5 stars. A lot of white women with these narratives, which was disappointing since most of the Gold Rush Women were indegenious or came from other areas of the world rather than just Europe or East America. Wish there were more stories on the black, mexican, indegineous, or chinese women who were forced into slavery or abused or helped create the west.

143. No one is too small to make a difference: 5/5 stars. Greta Thornberg amazes me. Here we have a 15 year old with aspergers who is doing her best to inspire scientists, politicians, and anyone in the world to take charge of our climate change issues. It also amazes me how many people are threatened by a 15 year old and she’s forced to repeat herself in her speeches because people refuse to listen to what she has to say. She’s amazing.

144. Ookami he no Yomeiri: 3.5/5 stars A bunny and a wolf get married. What more can I say?

145. Monody: 3/5 stars: Monody is a strange poetry book. The lyrical writing leaves lacking in terms of uniqueness and deep thought, but aesthetically it is beautiful. Blue font paired with geographical maps of Reno, Nevada, the poetry book comes off more of an art piece.

146. Usagi no Mori: 3/5 stars. Uhmmm. Don’t remember…