#its about being convenient/useful to others and then getting dropped bc they never really saw me as important but hey its fine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

photochoco · 4 years

Text

New Recruit

After an unfortunate run-in with a client, Wisteria finds themselves with a curse. Luckily, Black Cauldron is here to help.

Pinprick and Bianca had been the closest to the disturbance. Patrolling had its perks, one of them being that you never knew when you might conveniently stumble upon magical mayhem.

Well, they didn’t stumble upon it so much as they heard a pained screech split through the air as they walked along. Rushing towards the source, they rounded a corner and into an alley-

Someone in a pointed hat stood with their back to the Cadets, holding a second person up by their throat. Magic crackled in the air like static.

A witch.

“HEY!” Bianca yelled. Pinprick rushed past her, talons outstretched.

The witch barely sidestepped his swipe in time, their hat getting nicked in the process. Scrambling onto their broom, they rose up into the air and took off above the buildings.

“Pin, go after ‘em! I’ll take care of the kid.”

Despite being a giant, Pinprick was very fast. He gave a single nod and leapt up onto a nearby house, hopping from rooftop to rooftop in pursuit.

The civilian was laying in a heap on the ground, unmoving.

Bianca swore under her breath as she skidded to a halt next to them, grabbing their shoulder and rolling them over. Whatever had happened with the witch, it seemed like they'd put up a fight, smeared blood drying on the corners of their mouth.

“Damn kid...I’m sorry…” Bianca muttered as she noticed the streams of multicolor flowing in rivulets from their closed eyes. It coated their hands as well; it was no doubt caused by a curse. At least they were breathing. Bianca considered calling for backup before Pinprick leapt down in front of her.

He wore a frustrated scowl. “The witch got away. They were too far ahead.”

Bianca sighed in resignation. “Dammit. Well, let’s at least count it as a win that they didn’t kill this kid here. Look at ‘er eyes though, I think they got cursed. We gotta- hff- get ‘em to Tracy- Geezus they’re a deadweight-” she sunk under their weight as she tried to hoist them up, an arm around their shoulders.

“Here, let me-” Pinprick gently scooped them into his arms. Their head sagged against his chest and they didn’t stir beyond a small mumble that was barely audible. “Poor thing…” he murmured, cradling them carefully against himself.

“Let’s get 'em back to BC and see what the damage is. Hopefully nothin’ too bad.”

---

A myriad of voices reached her ears, but she couldn’t really understand what anyone was saying through her exhaustion. She wanted to go back to sleep.

Consciousness came slow, discouraged by soft, warm blankets. Yet they couldn’t shake the feeling that something horrible had happened…She scrunched her face up. It felt like...there was something...

“Oh shit, they moved!”

“She’s waking up!”

“Oooooh do you think she’ll wanna become a Cadet?”

“Whaddaya think happened?”

“Ok everyone, that’s enough, off you go! There will be plenty of time for meet and greet later!”

Coherent thought was returning in a steady stream, and it was now that she realized there were bandages around her eyes. Bandages? Is that why her eyelids felt so hot and swollen…? Or was it because her eyes felt hot and swollen that she had bandages…? Did something happen to them?

She sat up rather abruptly, hearing a squeal of surprise in response to her quick movement. Her eyes...were really itchy. They itched, but they stung more, like a dull ache. Like someone had blown pepper flakes into her eyes…they automatically watered in response to the thought.

Her head throbbed. Ugh...it felt like something was hammering the inside of her skull...She pressed a hand to her temple in protest of the sudden headache.

“Welcome back, dear. You gave us a bit of a scare, being out for so long.”

She jumped at the voice and heard a soft chuckle.

“No need to be jumpy, now. You’re at Black Cauldron. My name is Tracy Pan, I’m a nurse here.”

“Black Cauldron…” she echoed. “You mean the guild for cursed people…?”

“The very same. One of our teams found you in an alley. It looked like you had been attacked. Does that seem familiar at all?”

It did. She nodded, her mouth suddenly becoming dry. If she was here, at Black Cauldron, did that mean…?

“I’ll get straight to the matter at hand. When our Cadets found you, you seemed to have color streaming from your eyes. When you got here, your eyelids were pretty irritated and swollen, hence the bandages as a precaution. It’s very possible you’ve been cursed.”

Wisty was silent as the nurse methodically unwound the gauze and peeled the medical tape off the pads over her eyes.

“I...don’t really remember a lot about what happened. They were a client of mine, they were angry about...something about the art I made for them? We got into a fight and...they shot some sort of spell at me.”

“Hm hm! And what’s your name?”

She could barely squeeze it out of her rapidly tightening throat as dread coiled in her gut . “...W-Wisteria. Wisteria Inkwell. Or...Wisty...”

“Pleasure to meet you, Wisty. I’m going to remove your bandages. When they’re off, make sure to open your eyes slowly. If you are cursed, there’s a high likelihood that it affected your eyes.”

Please don’t let it be what she thought it was.

Please let that have been from shock. Please...

“Alright, you can open your eyes now.”

Slowly, reluctantly, she opened them.

Everything was grey. Greys and whites and blacks, like she was looking at an old photograph. Monochrome. The color was gone. Wisty’s heart had started to pound so hard she could feel each thump in her chest. The dread uncoiled and shot through her veins, bringing with it a wave of cold.

Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold. Hot--

No. No. No. No way. This couldn’t be happening.

She would not cry, not in front of other people, let alone a stranger. Emotions she couldn’t place were whirling about inside her so fast. But her face was blank as she willed the tears back. She felt very dizzy.

“Hm hm!” A small plump woman popped into her view, a troll? She leaned in close, examining her eyes. “It would seem it is indeed a curse on your eyesight. Or is it perhaps a different version of soul loss…? Your eyes are voided out like another one of our Cadets, but his are white, yours are black. What do you see?”

Wisty fought off tears. “There’s no color. I can’t see color, I--they-- they took color from me...they--”

“Interesting, interesting…and how else do you feel?” Tracy continued.

The room was spinning.

“I...uh…kin...kinda...dizzy...” Wisty mumbled. “I think ‘m gonna b’ sick…”

“Hmm, you might be in shock. How about we… …”

The rest of the nurse’s words were lost to the static roar that started in Wisty’s ears. Everything sounded very far away all of a sudden, she herself felt like she was floating. She could see things, hear things, but she couldn’t make sense of any of it. She tried to breathe in steadily, but her chest was burning. That wasn’t supposed to happen. She felt herself falling freely through space.

Where was the color?

---

It was quiet when Wisty came to again. Jeez...what happened? Had they fainted?

They opened their eyes, slowly.

It was no less gut-wrenching the second time.

The world was still in grayscale, and the sickening feeling swelled inside them all over again. They looked around and listened, eyes already brimming with tears. They were alone. Good.

They buried their face into their knees and sobbed. They sobbed until they felt like they were going to be sick. Their throat was tight and their head pounded, they cried until they had no tears left. The colorful world they’d loved so much was gone. And it wasn’t going to come back. Small wails mixed in with their sobs, thankfully muffled by the blankets.

Finally, they calmed themself down with a series of long sighs that shook their frame. They wiped their eyes and looked around, sniffling. Urgh, now they’d given themself a nasty headache and they couldn’t breathe through their nose. They slipped out of bed to find the bathroom. They could use some cold water on their face.

Wisty approached the door and went to open it, only to have it swing forward on its own, causing them to yelp in response.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t--excuse me--”

The pair of legs in the doorway bent down, and an incredibly tall ghoul ducked through the threshold.

“Ahem.” He straightened himself up to his full height, easily over nine feet. “Apologies cupcake, I didn’t see you there. Actually, should you even be out of bed? You haven’t been taking your curse very well.”

Wisty squirmed and hastily wiped at her eyes. “I, um, I actually feel fine now. I just wanted some water.”

He leaned down, putting his face too close to hers, and gently pressed a long pointed finger onto her cheek. She resisted the urge to shrink away. What if he noticed--

“Now, why the waterfalls?”

Crap.

“I. Um.”

The ghoul studied her expression and grinned widely with a chuckle, showing a mouth full of sharp teeth. Wisty averted her gaze. What colors was he? Frustrated tears bubbled up again. The ghoul cocked his head and continued to grin. Then his eyebrows hopped up and his smile dropped in surprise.

“Oh my. That doesn’t look normal.”

“H-Huh?” Wisty wiped at her eyes and was startled to smell...what was that? Ink? She pulled her hand away.

Some sort of dark substance was smeared across the back of her hand. She looked at it. Looked up at the ghoul. Back to the ink. Then the ghoul. He stared back with a surprisingly calm expression.

“Side effect of your curse, perhaps?” he suggested.

Fighting back the urge to just up and scream, Wisty replied, “Uuuhhhhh maybe? Hope this isn’t a permanent thing-”

“Yo Pin, quit hoggin’ the doorframe!”

A girl with long gelatinous-looking hair squeezed past the ghoul, her eyebrows also hopping up when she saw Wisty.

Oh, you’re awake! ‘S about time too, you were startin’ to freak us all out! Especially after you fainted right outta the bed.”

She stuck her hand out, and Wisty took it in her own. The girl’s hand was very warm.

“I’m Bianca Frost, and this is my partner Pinprick! We make up Team B of Black Cauldron. We found you in an alley.”

“Oh--oh my god, you guys saved me? Thank you!!”

Bianca shrugged and rubbed the back of her head, looking away.

“Eh, it was nothin’. I’m just sorry we didn’t find you sooner. Uh, how are ya feelin’ now? You know your eyes are...uh, leaking, right?”

“Y-Yeah, dunno what’s up with that. I’m...better. It’s still kinda a big shock,” Wisty rubbed at her eyes again. “Do you have a bathroom in here? I wanted to get some water and clean my face.”

At her insistence that she felt fine enough to do it herself, Bianca pointed Wisty in the direction of the restrooms. They were easy to find, tucked around the corner from a bar area. There were several people sitting at tables, and they all swiveled their heads to stare at her as she walked by. With a weird flip in her stomach, Wisty hurriedly shut the door behind her as whispers began.

Purposefully avoiding the mirror, they splashed their face with water, sighing as it soothed their itchy, swollen eyes. Wisty braced themselves, head hanging with one hand on either side of the sink. They stared down at the wisps of ink mixing with the water as it all swirled down the drain. They could deal with this. It would be fine. They’d be fine. They’d find a way to keep making art, this was fine. They cupped their hands under the stream and took several thirsty gulps. This was manageable. People got cursed all the time. (As unfortunate as that was.)

Wisty sighed again. They wondered if the curse affected how their eyes looked. Steeling themself, they looked in the mirror. Their eyes were completely black, no visible iris or sclera to be seen.

“Whoooooooaaaa,” They couldn’t help the exclamation as they leaned in closer, staring at their reflection with wide eyes. “Haha, what the hell…?”

They pulled their eyelid down and rolled their eyeball around, looking this way and that; the whole thing was as solid and black as an 8 ball and reflected no light. Kinda like that pigment of black they used once-

A thought struck them- what would people think if they saw their eyes? Would they avoid her? Would people commission art from a cursed person who couldn’t even see the colors she was using? Cursed people in Salem were viewed with pity, and sometimes worse, outright scorn for being damaged goods. Would they have to wear sunglasses or something? What if--

There was a knock on the door.

Pin’s -that was his name right?- voice sounded on the other side, muffled, “Hey cupcake, are you almost done in there? John wants to talk to you.”

John? Who’s that…? Wisty opened the door. Two people dressed in Ironmaiden uniforms were waiting to greet her. One was a tall, imposing-looking woman with her greying hair neatly twisted into a bun. She looked severe, but her eyes looked at Wisty gently. Next to her was an equally-tall oxen hybrid, standing with his arms crossed. He looked at Wisty just as kindly, despite his intimidating appearance. She fiddled with the hem of her dress, clenching it in her hands.

“You’re Wisteria Inkwell, correct?” the woman asked. Wisty nodded.

“My name is Elanor Pan, founder of Black Cauldron. This here is John Bullock, chief of the Iron Maidens.”

“We wanted to ask you a few questions. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble,” John said, noting Wisty’s sudden nervous expression. “We wanted to ask you about the witch that cursed you. It’s our understanding they got away after attacking you.”

“Oh, no! I don’t mind at all…” Wisty replied, feeling relief wash over her.

“Good. Now, if you’ll come this way…” John ushered Wisty into another room. Before the door closed, she looked back at the entourage that was still gathered. They all stared at her.

Wisty rubbed at her eyes.

---

She ambled back out the door a good while later, now rubbing at her temple. John and Ela had peppered her with questions about her assailant until her head was spinning. They certainly were thorough. She’d drawn them a picture of the witch that had cursed her, which ate up even more time as she tried to recall as many details about them as possible. Then...more questioning. A drop of whatever-the-heck was dripping out of her eyes nearly ruined the whole damn drawing.

Wisty wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to have happen. Did she want the witch to be arrested? Did she want revenge? Out of all the things she was feeling, anger wasn’t very high on the list at the moment. Both John and Ela had assured her the drawing she made, as well as the details she provided, would be put on the wanted board in Black Cauldron.

On that topic… Ela had said…

The people still in the bar area chose that moment to pounce, all but swarming around her.

“Hey! Did Ela talk to you about becoming a Cadet?”

“What kind of curse do you have?”

“Want some soda?”

They were all talking over each other so loudly Wisty could hardly piece together what any one person said. She was luckily saved by Elanor, who swept out of the room behind her.

“Really now! I’d said there’d be time for introductions later, but this poor child has had a very long day and she certainly doesn’t need to be bombarded by you all at once. I know you’re all excited about the prospect of a new Cadet, but please, be considerate. Don’t scare them off just yet!” she said, a good-humored smile curving her mouth. She placed a hand on Wisty’s shoulder and looked down at her, still smiling. “Think about my offer, won’t you? I think you’d be a valuable member here.”

“I’ll think about it, for sure,” Wisty said.

Ela nodded. “Good. In the meantime, would you like to stay here awhile until you’re feeling better? Maybe get yourself acquainted with some of our Cadets here.”

“I’m- Thank you very much Mrs. Elanor-” Wisty managed to squeak out as Bianca grabbed her wrist and began to pull her away.

“Just Ela is fine, dear!”

Bianca ushered a bewildered Wisty into a seat, and the remaining chairs at the table were very quickly filled in. A stout girl with hair that curled at the ends trotted up to the crowd, notepad in hand.

“Hi! I’m Cameilla, a waitress here. Can I get you anything to drink?” she chirped, smiling wide.

“I’d looooove a soda-” a boy at the table started. “She was talking to the new kid, not you,” someone else retorted.

“Well...if it’s not too much trouble, I’m literally dying for a lemonade right now,” Wisty said.

Cameilla smiled and hopped away towards the kitchen. “Cameilla is the youngest Cadet,” Bianca said. “She’s not keen on the whole fighting thing, so she works as a waitress here instead!”

She returned a very short time later with Wisty’s lemonade, and the questions began.

The first to speak was Pinprick. “So, my dear, care to share with the rest of the class? Why don’t we get those introductions out of the way.”

“Oh! I’m Wisteria. Just Wisty is fine.”

Everyone looked at her expectantly. One of the Cadets tapped near their eyes and pointed at her.

“Oh right, my curse. Well...I can’t see color anymore,” Wisty found it was easier to talk about than she had anticipated. “I can still see and all, but it’s like--you know black and white photographs? It’s like that. I can still see value, but all the hue and saturation is gone.”

There was a wave of nods and aaaaaah’s that quickly turned into a collective scream as a thick, viscous liquid trickled down Wisty’s cheeks.

“Holy shit your eyes are melting!!”

“No no no no they’re not! They’ve been doing this ever since I woke up. I’m...really hoping this isn’t a thing my eyes just do now…”

Bianca slid a napkin dispenser her way and Wisty grabbed several, hurriedly rubbing at her face, grumbling in frustration.

“I swear, if this is just a thing for me now I’m gonna go feral,” she muttered.

“Being colorblind looks pretty metal,” a boy with glowing white eyes said, blowing a cloud of smoke out through his teeth. A cigarette was clenched between them.

Wisty wrinkled her nose and tried not to gag into the napkin. She hated the smell of cigarette smoke. The Cadet sitting next to the boy must have noticed, because he deftly yoinked it out of his comrade’s mouth.

“Yo Harvey, what the hell man?!” the boy squawked as the person in a bunny mask crumpled the cigarette in his hand.

“If you paid any attention to her face, you’d have seen your smokestack was making her sick, dumbass.” He turned to Wisty and stuck out his non-ash covered hand, which Wisty took and shook. “I’m Harvey. I make weapons for Cadets here. This idiot next to me is Dex.”

Dex gave a short wave, grinning widely. “Yep, that’s me! Dex, the resident heartthrob.”

Wisty blinked. “Oh, I’ve seen you before! You nearly ran me over with your bike once.”

Everyone present swiveled their heads to stare at Dex. He blinked.

“I’m sorry about him. He tragically lost all his brain cells years ago.“

“...I did?”

“Oh my god Dex that is NOT what you say to someone you nearly flattened with your dumb bike!”

“Hey! DeeDee is NOT dumb! She--ow ow ow ow!” his words cut off with a squeal as Harvey sitting next to him grabbed him in a headlock.

“I’m sorry about him. He tragically lost all his brain cells years ago.“

Wisty couldn’t help but giggle. “Um, have you all been here long?”

“Some of us have, yeah,” Harvey said. He released his hold on Dex, who sucked in air theatrically.

“Caldwell, the guy workin’ behind you? He helped form BC with Ela. They go way back,” Pinprick said. “Then we all joined one by one! There’s many more of us who aren’t here right now, but it’d be lovely if you met them, cupcake. We’re definitely a rag-tag bunch with a myriad of curses to match.”

Bianca tossed her hair, grinning in a way that seemed very much prideful. “A witch set me on fire and I turned into a lava elemental! Best thing that ever happened to me!”

“I mean, it’s fairly obvious for me,” Pinprick added, grinning equally widely. “Black Cauldron’s resident ghoul.”

Harvey was silent until Dex leaned on him hard enough to nearly push him off his chair.

“Oh god fine!” he relented, placing a hand on Dex’s face and shoving him away. “I was dared by some buddies of mine to put this mask on and it never came off,” he said. “Happy now?” he added to Dex, who was watching him with his chin in his hands, smiling mischievously.

“How do you eat then?!” Wisty balked.

“With a straw, duh.”

“What about you, Dex? Wh-”

“Sooooo!” Dex cut in. “Are you thinking about becoming a Cadet?”

“I mean, Ela did make the offer to me. But I dunno how much of a help I’d be to be honest. Fighting sounds interesting, buuuuut all I’m really good at is making art.”

“We can help teach you, if you join. And Harvey can make you a weapon!” Dex said. “And if ya want, maybe you could team up with someone, like Alphus over there, or—”

“I work alone, Dex boy,” the woman leaning on the wall nearby said.

Wisty shrunk in her seat.

“Oh, don’t mind her cupcake, she can be a little standoffish towards everyone at first,” Pinprick said, placing a reassuring hand on Wisty’s shoulder, nearly knocking her off her chair. “Honestly Alphus, be nice!”

Alphus shrugged. “Hey, never said I was against backup if I’d ever need it, which I won’t. Just so long as no one gets in my way.”

“So what was this about you being an artist?” Harvey inquired.

“Oh yeah! I mostly do commission work and run my studio outta my apartment. You might’ve seen some of my stuff if you visit the underground city.”

“Oooooh, can you show us some of your work?”

“Can you draw something right now?”

---

It ended up being pretty late when Wisty finally set off back home. A slight breeze wafted through the city streets, and they initially felt oddly at ease, despite everything that had happened. But as they walked along, gazing at familiar sights, a pit opened up in the bottom of their stomach. How were they going to deal with this? What would they tell their friends? Their family? The streetlamps that once felt so warm seemed frigid now, a dull grey. Values were mixing together and hard to tell apart. Wisty impatiently flicked away yet another trickle of black from their right eye.

Black Cauldron…

They’d heard of them for a long time, but they never imagined they might end up joining one day. And even now, they were still unsure. Everyone they had met were very friendly, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to become a Cadet. Maybe they could make recruitment posters or something. Or something. The last thing they wanted to be was a hindrance to anyone.

A single day at a time.

“Ugh!” Wisty shouted aloud, throwing their fists in the air.

They had time to think it over, even Ela had said so! There was no rush.

They’d take it one day at a time.

#stories #original story #skz #skullkidz #skull kidz #out in the field #wisteria #wisty #man this rewrite took foreverrrr #but i like it a lot more now :>

8 notes · View notes

queenharumiura · 3 years

Text

(When you casually remember you have another KHR blog that you can connect timelines with for the luls. This tiny brain rot hasn't left me so I thought to write a small thing for it. Readmore bc i'm shy.)

@belacedia

With a small bird perched on her shoulder, Haru was led down the long halls by Kusakabe, who was quite used to escorting her to and fro on the behest of Hibari Kyouya, the Cloud Guardian of the Vongola.

Haru was showed into a room where Hibari was already sipping a warm cup of tea at. It never ceased to amaze her how this room in particular was filled to the brim with Japanese aesthetic. A traditional room fitting for a man who was somewhat old-fashioned.

She didn’t know what exactly she was called in here for, but she didn’t feel unnerved by his presence. Over the years, the two would interact with each other at random and one could say they’ve formed something akin to a friendship. At least, that was how Haru saw it.

Don’t get her wrong, it took an incredibly long amount of time to reach a stage where the two could enjoy a cup of tea together as Haru would speak on random inanities. The little bird, who Haru dubbed ‘Mi-chan,’ flew towards Hibari, perching on his outstretched finger. “Miura.” He greets her calmly.

“Hibari-san.” She greets back as she simply approaches, sitting down at the table where a cup of tea was already poured for her. “Can I ask why you’ve sent Mi-chan to me today?” Not bothering to waste time with the pleasantries, she cut right to the chase.

The warmth of the teacup felt comforting as her nerves were wound tight in anticipation. While there were many yellow feathered ‘minions’ under Hibari’s command, there was one in particular that Haru often interacted with, and it was due to the fact that Haru had found it injured one day and nursed it back to health before returning it to Hibari’s side.

Having grown attached to Haru, Hibari deemed it useful to allow this one lone bird to serve as a liaison between Haru and himself. It was quite rare when the bird that Haru has affectionately named ‘Mi-chan’ was used for any business other than spoiling the bird with treats, so being summoned the way she had today had Haru feeling nervous.

“A couple birds have reported something interesting. A certain Prince has been visiting you frequently.”

Haru almost dropped her tea in shock, but she managed to keep the cup in her hands by fumbling. She wasn't expecting to be having this conversation with Hibari of all people. “Hahi? They told you about that? Well- it’s not wrong…” She awkwardly fiddled with the cup in her hands. “… He’s been visiting me often.” At a certain point, she’d dare say he was just terrorizing her by getting on her nerves, but at large, it was mostly harmless.

She did ponder on this fact in her downtime, but it did seem like Belphegor’s frequent visits didn't go completely unnoticed. So far, it seemed that only Hibari knew about it (Or rather he was the only one to outright confront her about it).

Eyebrows raised in surprise, “You called me here just for that?” Her tone was incredulous as he never involved himself in her business as it wasn’t his place to do so. The two would talk on occasion and it was merely due to the fact that Haru put forth the effort to try to get along with all of the guardians, and that included Hibari. It was accurate to say that the both of them had come to a common agreement to simply accept each other’s existence and not bother the other.

It helped that Haru got along with the yellow avians, often looking after them if they wanted to rest after a long day of hard work. It only took one of the avians to speak well of her for the rest to understand that she was a ‘good person who can serve as a secondary food source.’

Not one to owe others favors, Hibari willingly associated with her on occasion. Luckily, Haru never asked too much of him, so they could interact with each other in peace. “What is he planning to do in Namimori that involves your cooperation?” His teacup now empty, she had his entire attention. Obviously, this conversation would not budge from this topic.

She blinks a few times before she chuckles quietly. “I don’t think anyone has plans to harm Namimori, Hibari-san. I understand the concern, but he can be agreeable if you’re willing to meet him halfway. He certainly is very lacking in sociability, but he’s doing his best… I think. Even though his reputation is what it is, he is able to be civil, so I don’t think you need to be concerned about his casual visits.” She has absolutely no intention of stating that Belphegor wouldn’t destroy Namimori if a mission was involved.

“You have a positive opinion of him.” Hibari notes, his piercing gaze picking every small movement of hers down as his mind then collates everything together to form a coherent but unorthodox thought. “Don’t get played.” A pointed comment that both would be able to understand.

Of course, he was referring to a certain 10th generation mafia boss. “Tsuna-san didn’t play around with me.” Haru hisses, instantly going on the defensive. Being played would suggest that he even looked in her direction to begin with—which he didn’t. Just like the lightning comes and goes with a sudden flash, her temper could leave as quickly as it came. “I don't think Bel is playing around with me. I feel he's being sincere. At the very least, he doesn’t force any expectations on me. He respects my ambitions more than some others we know, and I appreciate that. He’s surprisingly--- likable at times. Would I be stupid for thinking about him?” Who knew there'd come a day when Haru speaks about relationships with the Hibari Kyouya?

The matter of relationships and feelings were foreign ground for the likes of Hibari, who much preferred to keep to himself, save for those he approves of. Just as she didn’t interfere with his business, he wouldn’t interfere with hers. If she could objectively deduce that she trusted the destructive Prince, that was her choice to make.

Surely, she wouldn’t continue the mistake of falling for yet another person who wouldn’t look her way. Then again, perhaps that wouldn’t be an issue, if Belphegor’s frequent visits were of any indication. It was also true to say that he hadn't received any reports of any significant property damage in Namimori immediately following Belphegor's casual visits, so it may be beneficial to relax his guard on the matter.

Steel cold eyes glanced at the woman across the table, noting the indecisive sheen in her eyes. The normally ambitious and self-assured woman had moments of hesitation, it seems. “It’s your choice to make. Don’t belittle yourself. Any damage to Namimori and it’s people will be met with force.”

"With force!" The yellow bird chimes in randomly, flapping its wings energetically.

A small smile graces Haru’s features as she read between the lines, “Haru is being made into a convenient excuse for a fight, hm? At least give me a chance to fight for myself first.” In other words, should anything go wrong, the best person to have as an ally in Namimori was Hibari himself. There were some benefits to trying to befriend the guardians, wouldn’t you know?

It was only a matter of time before others learned about what was going on, so it would be beneficial for all parties involved for her to make her decision quickly, lest she be bothered by a couple of worried nagging guys.

“I told you all this in confidence, you know? Of course, you wouldn’t go blabbing, right?”

“Your private life is of no business to the rest.” Living life without an annoying pest worrying about inanities was a day well spent, after all.

“Hibari-san understands well.”

She thought it was a bit early to be considering anything in seriousness, but it never hurt to cover your bases. The moment Gokudera or Tsuna heard about Belphegor’s frequent visits, her life was going to be rife with annoyances. Hibari wouldn’t alert the others to what he’s noticed and he may feel it necessary to ensure the others are kept in the dark for the sake of peace and quiet.

The moment Tsunayoshi’s worries trickle down the ranks of the Vongola, Namimori’s peace would surely take the fall. Barring a Prince from doing whatever he wished to do? That reeked of property damage.

Really, it was nice having someone like him as a ‘friend’, sometimes. “Since I’m here, let me tell you about a recipe I’ve thought up recently. I think the birds would love it. It would be tasty and healthy for them.”

"Hm. Give the recipe to Kusakabe."

“Roger that.”

#Belacedia #Neo Drabble #((Guest muse: Hibari))#((The setting for this in my mind would be after the bazooka thread and before the time Bel breaks into her apartment))#((This brain rot hasn't left the since the day I thought about it and it's high time for me to do something about it))#((Now I can let this thought rest))

3 notes · View notes

maknaesdancersrappers · 4 years

Text

july 21

hello. july 21 is a special day for me and you dont have to read this because its just me venting out my thoughts and emotions as long as i can without word/character limits on any platform.

july 21 is my maternal grandmother’s birthday. when i was born, my mom went abroad often and my dad had the regular 9 to 5 job plus extra hours for commute. so growing up with my sisters who are 5 and 7 years older, our grandparents and aunts took care of us.

im also more fond of my maternal grandmother since my paternal grandmother lived far away and we rarely ever get to see her (usually only during summers and once she stayed with us for awhile) until she passed away from Alzheimer's.

during the long hiatus i took early this year (late december to mid-march?), a lot has happened in my life. my health was put at risk because of the ash fall brought by the volcano eruption (january 12); i had allergies for weeks - i couldnt breathe properly, let alone sleep because of it. it was about to be the second year after graduating college and i have yet to get a job; the pressure from my family - and myself - was so unbearable that i caught myself slipping back to my very, very, very dark thoughts. and the worst thing that happened in those three months: my grandmother passed away. in filipino, grandmother is lola (loh-lah) and i’d like to use that for the rest of this post.

if you ask anyone in their neighborhood, any of our family friends, and relatives, everyone will tell you that her death was sudden. because everyone knows her as the sometimes-funny-sometimes-cranky old lady that owns the convenience store at the corner of the street. she was 96. she was 96 but she refused to get a wheelchair or use a walking stick even though her knees started to hurt after a few steps. she was 96 but didn’t need glasses to read most of the time. she was 96 but didn’t have any maintenance medication. ever since she reached her 90′s, she had gone to the town clinic at least twice because she fell over (from loss of balance) and busted her head. yet she would walk the next day like she doesnt have stitches on her scalp. she hated going to the doctor, she’d always claim that nothing hurts and the only thing she wanted the doctor to fix was her hearing (its as weak as how her eyesight is clear)

i wasnt the only one in the family that got severely affected by the ash fall. my lola also had trouble breathing because of it. she also went to the doctor for it and they only prescribed her antibiotics. please remember this info. this should be around early february

she got a little better but her voice was very hoarse from the phlegm. even before this, lola had little to no appetite and would only eat when someone else is eating (usually if it’s us, her granddaughters). and by little to no appetite, i mean her whole meal would be three spoonfuls of rice and one piece/chunk of whatever the main dish/ulam is. whenever we ask if she had eaten (even though we know she hadnt) she’d always claim that she already has (this eventually became a little joke in our family.) we took this sign as her dementia getting worse (although she was never really diagnosed with it, we had naturally assumed it because she would always repeatedly tell us stories that she insists happened even though some have been debunked and there were times she forgets our names if we havent visited in a while.)

after she gets better from the cough (idk the real diagnosis of it), her legs started to swell and because her routine had been reduced to being bedridden for most of the day, my aunts thought it was just poor circulation. it took two weeks before they brought her back to the town clinic and again, they just prescribed her with some medicine. everything after this is blurry to me until feb 21

my mom, being the eldest, made the decision to bring lola to the hospital. she’s, rightfully, unsatisfied with the town doctor’s diagnosis and prescriptions because lola is in so much pain and her legs were still swollen and its been weeks. i was with her in the emergency room while my mom and aunt did the paper work and the staff ran tests on lola. i’m contacting my sister who was in singapore and we’d video call to entertain lola since she was very adamant - and vocal - that she did not want to be admitted to the hospital bc she was “fine.” goSh she made so many hospital staff laugh because she would always announce whenever she had to fart. after like 2 hours, we move her into a ward and my mom tells me that i’ll have to stay overnight to watch over her. i was very apprehensive of this idea. i honestly did not want to. seeing her in pain was bad enough, but the fact we were in a room with other people and she was crying out loud made me really anxious but it was final. my mom, aunt, and uncle all went back home just to have dinner and they’ll come back since lola’s doctor would be coming by to give the results and for that hour they were gone? i lost it.

lola started talking/praying out loud, asking god why she was in so much pain, asking what she had done to deserve this; and i didn’t know what to do but hold her hand and kiss her head. i couldn’t even show her i was crying. when my mom got back, i told her i cant do it and she eventually convinced my other sister to join me, who cancelled her plans for the next day. that night, i did not and could not fall asleep. after a few hours, her doctor finally came by and dropped a bomb on us. he was kind enough to talk to my mom and aunt behind the curtains in the softest voice ever while i helped the nurse with lola, but i could hear him crystal clear.

cancer of the liver.

they even momentarily walked back to lola to touch her stomach and stepped back out. i almost thought i misheard, but my mom and aunt’s expressions were too grim that it basically confirmed it. later on, my mom finally told me and explained that the antibiotics she had been taking weeks ago were too strong for her because of her lifestyle and diet. there were tumors in her liver and surgery wouldn’t do anything. i dont remember what i did aside from sketching on the journal i brought, but until i got home at 10am the next day, i did not sleep a wink.

feb 22. when i woke up at 2PM, i was told that they had lola discharged from the hospital. there was nothing we could do but try to ease the pain to the best of our abilities and wait. starting that day, i went over to lola’s house to help out with feeding her, giving her medicine, and just trying to keep her happy by randomly smiling at her when i see her looking around or dancing to no music.

feb 24. these were the early weeks of covid - ph hadn’t had a case yet, i believe, but travel restrictions were being implemented. my sister in singapore was doing everything to make sure she could come home because we don’t know when, but we know lola was leaving soon. of all the things our mom told her not to do, she cried at the entrance of the embassy and by the grace of god, someone took pity and listened to her (bc she was denied entry since she had a small cough) and she was able book a flight at midnight and be home in 4 hours. that afternoon, when i arrived at lola’s house, that was the very first time i stood at the doorway to greet her like i usually did and she didn’t smile. not even the corners of her lips moved. she was in that much pain that she couldn’t even greet me back like she always did, which was to smile and nod her head. that night, we all decided to sleepover there (with the exception of my dad since he had to feed our dogs at home). i take my usual seat in the living room and i notice a white dress that i remember (from photos) being lola’s 50th anniversary wedding gown and without being told, i know it was what she was going to wear for the very last time.

feb 25. being notoriously a late sleeper, i was about to go to sleep at 2AM when i hear lola groaning and whining out loud. when i checked her, her stubborn lil ass was trying to get out of bed alone!!! so i obviously panic and try to wake up anyone by exclaiming that lola had to go to the bathroom - she’s been wearing adult diapers for weeks now but refuses to go in them and is adamant about bringing her to the bathroom so she could relieve herself - so me, and the same aunt and uncle from the hospital, assisted her into this modified chair so she could pee and the only thing i could do was hold her hand, like always. after that, my uncle said he’d watch over her and lie down beside her on the bed so in case she needs to go again, he can take care of it himself. after falling asleep, i heard a few hours later that my sister from SG arrived. when i woke up later on, my sisters and i presented ourselves to lola bc its been so long since she last saw us complete, and this time she was able to give us a small nod of acknowledgement. i realized that none of my uncles and aunts went to work that day, thinking it was just so we could be complete since my sister was home. but then i overhear them making plans to have a priest come over for the sacrament of anointing of the sick - which based on my last and only experience (my grandfather/lolo), this must be the day. during the session, a few of my aunts and an uncle cried. my sisters cried, too, but i forced myself not to. when the priest left, i don’t know how long, but suddenly, she was gone. i didn’t know how to react. this was the second time i’ve seen someone pass away before my very eyes. everyone was crying out for forgiveness, kissing lola’s head, but i couldn’t move one bit. i was finally crying, but i couldn’t move at all.

3 days. from learning about the real problem with lola, it only took 3 days for it to take her away from us. not even a week, or a month. the only bright side to this was that she’s finally relieved of all the pain that’s been causing her suffering. 3 days of knowing her time was very, very short, but it was still a shock when she finally left.

for the longest time, lola’s goal was to reach the age of 100 because apparently our government will reward her with 100,000 pesos (like 2k usd) for doing so. she wanted to reach 100 because she wanted to leave us with some inheritance haha. and everyone believed she could do it. no one doubted her. until this happened. maybe its just me, but i feel foolish... completely stupid and ignorant for knowing deep down in my heart that she would reach 100 that losing her 3 years prior her goal hurt me more than ever.

it’s been 5 months but remembering her death still makes me cry. i have dreams (and you all know im a lucid dreamer) where she’s still alive and we’re talking about how she beat cancer at 96 in just a few months, but then i’ll remember that she didn’t and the dream in front of me just shatters and i’ll wake up empty and crying. i have never felt so much regret after she passed bc all she wanted was to see me graduate and it was up to me to show her that i got my first job and give her a portion of my first salary, but i couldn’t even do that. i waited too long and now its too late. her ideal type for me was a rich atenean boy who could drive 😂 and i still couldn’t give her that bc im so anti-men. there was a time i was so scared to go back to lola’s house bc she called me out during dinner - “baket ka malungkot/why are you sad?” - when all i was doing was browsing through my phone, scarily enough going through another “episode”, and the last person i’d ever want to know about my possible depression was her. of all my suicidal episodes, i’ve always resolved them by thinking of her - that i will continue living because i wanted to see her smile. because i wanted to see her happy.

i miss her so much. i wish i had been a better granddaughter to her. the small things i’ve done for her were never enough. in the past 5 months, i’ve only dreamt about her twice (actually being with her) and both times made the day so hard to function. i havent moved on and i dont know if im the only one. i dont know if i’ll ever move on. she would have been 97 today. whenever she forgets my name, i’ll tell her i have the same birthday as her and she’ll remember me. she’ll say “ahhh rosean! july 10!”

if someone read through this, im sorry you had to go through that mess. but thank you for hearing me out. no, i’ll thank you the way my lola would thank people, verbatim:

thank you very much from the bottom of my heart.

13 notes · View notes

dazzlingheights · 4 years

Text

I was tagged for the Dig a Little Deeper Challenge by the absolute loveliest of all time, @thewickedcomes!! Raquel is incredible and I love doing these fun little tag games!!

1. do you prefer writing with a black pen or a blue pen? blue pen!

2. would you prefer to live in the country or in the city? i am a bigggg city girl

3. if you could learn a new skill, what would it be? picking up languages!! languages are...not my forte and i can never commit to learning them, even though i would really like to

4. do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? coffee with creamer, tea with honey & milk depending on the kind of tea

5. what was your favorite book as a child? I loved Nancy Drew and the Harry Potter series

6. do you prefer baths or showers? shower. i think the last time i took a bath i was like 5.

7. if you could be a mythical creature, which one would you be? ooh maybe a siren? that sounds fun-- or a vampire. i’m also here for that!

8. paper or electronic books? i love me a good ‘ol paper book but let’s be real ebooks are SO CONVENIENT

9. what is your favorite item of clothing? i love sun dresses and skirts

10. do you like your name? would you like to change it? my real name means ‘river of light’, which i think is cool as heck and i honestly love it

11. who is a mentor to you? i don’t really think i’ve ever had a mentor. i would like one :D

12. would you like to be famous? if so, what for? lol i would love to be famous for like winning survivor or for writing a movie/book or creating a famous artwork

13. are you a restless sleeper? ehhhh, not really. i do get really hot when i sleep tho

14. do you consider yourself to be a romantic person? i am the BIGGEST closeted hopeless romantic that’s ever lived

15. which element best represents you? earth for sure-- which does make sense because i am an earth sign

16. who do you want to be closer to? my boss(es) bc networking XD

17. do you miss someone at the moment? my college friends!!!!!! i haven’t seen them in SO LONG

18. tell us about an early childhood memory. i remember being like 4 and it was easter and me not wanting to take a nap because i wanted to go for the neighborhood egg hunt XD

19. what is the strangest thing you have eaten? ooh maybe escargot?

20. what are you most thankful for? for my family, friends, and health

21. do you like spicy food? i am a bad indian so only sometimes

22. have you ever met someone famous? yes, i have actually met bella thorne, chris evans, and i’ve seen kobe bryant and tiger woods from a distance. i’ve met a whole bunch of congressmen/politicians because i interned on capitol hill! i also live in southern california so that explains the rest of it :D

23. do you keep a diary or journal? i’ve tried but i am so bad at committing to writing

24. do you prefer to use pen or pencil? both! it depends on if i’m writing or drawing

25. what is your star sign? capricorn

26. do you like your cereal crunchy or soggy? I don’t really like cereal but i guess i just like it dry

27. what would you want your legacy to be? being super successful

28. do you like reading? What was the last book you read? yes!!! i recently just read if you see me, don’t say hi by neel patel, which was phenomenal

29. how do you show someone you love them? i literally tell them and i try to be as helpful as possible

30. do you like ice in your drinks? i like super cold drinks without actual ice in them

31. what are you afraid of? failure and public humiliation

32. what is your favorite scent? vanilla, orange blossom, goji berry

33. do you address older people by their name or surname? their first name usually

34. if money was not a factor, how would you live your life? honestly i think i would still want to be a lawyer

35. do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? i like both, but pools because they are safer

36. what would you do if you found $50 in the ground? if it was obvious who dropped it, i would try to return it. other wise, finders keepers XD

37. have you ever seen a shooting star? did you make a wish? yes-- and i think i wished for something dumb but i can’t really remember

38. what is one thing you would want to teach your children? CONFIDENCE

39. if you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? on the arms or my back, and a van gogh painting or a snitch from HP’s quidditch

40. what can you hear now? my parents are watching a hindi movie

41. where do you feel the safest? in my bed

42. what is one thing you want to overcome/conquer? i want to stop trying to please everyone around me

43. if you could travel back to any era, what would it be? the 1970s because i’m in LOVE with the fashion and the vibes

44. what is your most used emoji? 😂

45. describe yourself using one word. determined

46. what do you regret the most? every time i stopped myself from doing something because i was waiting for a better moment to do it (usually there is no such thing as a perfect moment so just to the damn thing)

47. last movie you saw? athelete a-- which i really recommend everyone sees!

48. last tv show you watched? i rewatched never have i ever with my mom!

49. invent a word and its meaning. illyan. it means a certain level of willfulness without direction

50. Tagging: @optimismrpt, @mollyweasly, & @biancas-diangelos but totally feel free to ignore this because it is so obnoxiously long!

#tag games #about me #tagged

4 notes · View notes

ehstarwar · 4 years

Text

to what we wildly do (one shot)

It works for them.

It’s not the safest or most conventional method, but one that works for them and has probably been used by everyone at least once.

And it does works for them... until it doesn't.

Ben and Rey utilize coitus interruptus. (Otherwise known as the pull-out method.)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3K

Read on A03

A/N: idk where, but i recently saw a meme that informed me that the Actual Scientific Name™ for the pull out method is actually coitus interruptus and i have not been able to stop thinking abut that.

p.s. thank you all so much for all your comments. i read them and it genuinely fills me with so much joy, you have no idea. i promise i'm getting to all of them soon, so thank u thank u thank u

p.s.s. i'm not going to kid u guys, this is a rough piece of work. i've had a string of Very Bad Days™ and writing this has been a slight escapism for me, but it is patchy and needs a lot of editing that i do not have the heart to do. i still wanted to publish it bc its feels good to put something out there that hopefully others will enjoy so... enjoy!

It works for them.

It’s not the safest or most conventional method, but one that works for them and has probably been used by everyone at least once.

They’re both relatively vocal so it’s easy, too. (Ben more so than Rey, even.)

Of course they talked about it beforehand, when they’re still high off the thrill of something that feels new and fresh and right. They were much safer when the relationship first began, going through enough condoms to put catholic rabbits to shame. Ben even ordered a whole industrial sized box off of amazon, uncaring about the embarrassment Rey definitely would’ve had.

But then, one early morning, when the box is on the other side of the room and Ben’s cock is right here, hot and hard and already so close, she says the fateful words.

“Just pull out,” She whispers, and Ben winners against her skin and slips inside of her the next second.

And it’s so. much. better.

They can feel each other better, actually feel the quivering and veins and the heat. It never takes particularly long for either of them to come, but both Ben and Rey gets there so much quicker like this. He pumps into her slowly, like she’s a decant desert that he can only have once. He grunts and moans and whimpers, breathing right into her skin. Rey is boneless from the pleasure.

Before either of them know it, Rey comes all over him, breath catching in her throat. It’s the unmitigated feeling of her orgasm that brings Ben to his peak, giving him just enough time to slip his hand between them, sliding out of her just in time, spilling onto her inner thigh. He holds her close still, while his come cools on her skin. They’re both asleep, not even bothering with clean up.

And thus, their routine is born.

“Rey... so good... perfect baby...” Ben grunts into her mouth. She’s working herself on him, grinding herself on his cock. Her hand guides his to her clit, a wordless request, and Ben immediately goes to work. His thumb presses at her as she bucks into him and he can feel her quiver around him.

“Ben....” she whines. Ben can only moan gasp at the feel of her, mumbling praises and sweet endearments.

“Baby, I’m getting close,” he says, after a particularly hard clench on him. Ben presses his fingers harsher, willing Rey to beat him there, and is rewarded with her fingers digging into the meat of his pec. She grasps after him, fingers pinching the skin, as she comes, head tossed back and voice breathless. Her cunt holds Ben’s cock like a vice, and he has to physically lift Rey’s hips off him so that his come falls spurts on himself, coating his shaft and upper thighs in creamy white essence.

When he’s done, Ben slowly drops her hips to him, and lets Rey collapses on his chest. There’s a sickening squelch when her skin meets the pool of come in his lap, but it only makes his dick jump.

“We should be... more careful...” Ben says, still breathless. Rey just hums as she nuzzles into the crook of his neck.

The problem is that it is unbelievable hard to be careful when you’re already taking such a huge risk.

He’s pounding into her with barely contained vigor, in the grime of whatever dive bar Poe and Finn dragged their friend group too. She’s been a brat all day, refusing his morning kiss and his coming home kiss, not responding to his texts and calls, and rolling her eyes at his every suggestion. All this comes to a head when they’re in the middle of a group discussion over something inane when her hand snakes to his crotch, purposefully rubbing for a few minutes before he grabbed her hand and hauled her to the bathroom. He does it to teach her a lesson, he would swear, but it just so happens that her punishment is exactly what she wanted.

“Bein’.... so bratty....then goin for my cock... like you’re... not about to be... punished..” Ben say, face pressed into the side of her neck. He has her pushed against the wall, cock setting a bruising pace as he pistons into her.

After a particularly hard thrust and rough grab of her ass, Rey comes with a wordless cry, shaking in his arms. Be speeds up, overwhelmed with pleasure and rapidly approaching his own orgasm.

“Rey...” he warns, voice gruff. His eyes frantically search her person, trying to figure out a good place to come. Her shirt is black, so no, and her jeans have only been pushed off one leg. “I’m going to- where can I come?” He asks, voice nearing desperation.

Rey is too lost in the throes of her orgasm to respond, her body hangs in his arms, only supported by the behemoth that is Ben. He repeats the question again, finding it harder and harder to hold back. “Rey...”

Suddenly, Ben feels her hand grasp the hair at the nape and her mouth move to the side of his face. At the first brush of her lips against the shell of his ear, she whispers “... inside, please.”

Ben is overcome.

His body shudders as he comes inside of her, feeling her hot and unbearably tight around him. He stutters and jerks erratically inside of her, his come pulsing into her. She holds him through it, giving him soft caresses and whispering sweet words.

When he’s spilled everything he could, Ben drops his head to Rey’s shoulder, breathing heavily. They sink to the floor, uncaring for the disgusting state of their surroundings. Bens cock is still sheathed inside of her, and he can feel his come start to drip back down between them.

“We....” he starts, with no real plan for his words.

“I know,” she responds, fingers soothing his over-heated neck.

It’s the most either of them will day on the subject.

But pulling out isn’t nearly as convenient as… not.

It’s been three whole weeks since they’ve seen each other in the flesh. Ben had some business trip that he’d been putting off, that called him across the sea. It’s the longest they’ve ever gone without seeing each other since they’ve met. His homecoming is, by Rey’s estimation, something to be celebrated immediately. (Ben wholeheartedly agrees).

They’ve only just made it to the carpet behind their front door. His bags are strewn on the side, forgotten in their reunion. He’s only got the bare essentials off, the fly of his pants down, and tie loosened. Her dress is flipped up to her hips and she didn’t even bother with underwear.

Rey’s back is against the carpet, giving her rug burn that is well deserved, and Ben is huddled over her with his whole body.

“Don’t leave me that long… ever again,” She pants into his kiss. Their mouths are sloppy as they clash, spit and tongues all over. Her hands find purchase in whatever surface of his she can touch, and his are holding her hips as he slides into her.

They both get there in an embarrassingly fast amount of time, but neither of them care. They missed each other. So, so much. They’re both on the verge of orgasm when Ben realizes that pulling out really isn’t an option right now. Not that he ever actually wants to pull out, but the carpet they’re on is custom and hard to clean and his parents will be over in a couple hours to welcome him back too and he’d rather not have the discussion of why the small white stain by the door is soaking. Instead, he asks Rey for permission.

“Rey, I need too- can I, please- can I come in you?” He asks, voice whiny and breaking.

“Yes! Ben, yes please-” Is all Rey can manage to say before Ben looses it. His last powerful thrust drive Rey deeper into the floor as his mouth hangs open against her skin. He can feel Rey mewl under him, using his now limp body to get herself off, and Ben can’t think of a better job. She pulses around him shortly after that, clenching hard and making him twitch within her.

Ben is only just able to breathe when he goes back to kissing her again, planting his lips anywhere he can reach. Rey is soft and sweet under him, bodies melting together like a lump on the carpet.

“I don’t like it when you’re gone,” She says after a while. Her hand cards through his hair as he presses kisses to her face. Her hand catches the tip of his ear and Ben’s whole body shivers. It reminds them that his come is in her, soaking into her core.

“I don’t like being away from you, either,” He says, voice muffled by her skin. “I do,” Ben begins, kissing his way up her jaw, “like coming home to you, though.”

Rey smiles, warm and sated and happy, and Ben vows right there and then, to make her smile like this every day.

Not only is pulling out less convenient, but it’s decidedly less hot.

Because when Ben is beneath her as she rides him with all her might, Rey wants to have all of him. Every muscle, every hair, every drop of him consumed within her. And god, Ben wants that too. Rey can’t be bothered to think of how he’ll slip out of her in time. All she can think of is how nice the new, sparkly weight on her left ring finger feels; how good it looks when her fingers are intertwined with his, how much nicer the word fiancé is than boyfriend, and how Solo will be such perfect last name.

She swivels her hips slightly just to see Ben gasp. He’s such a breathtaking sight, a powerhouse of a man, and he’s submitting to her, to his future wife.

“You’re going to marry me,” She says, voice breathless but still proud.

“Yes- yes I am,” He says, teeth gritted. She moves faster now, willing herself to see him come before she does.

“You’ll be my husband.” Just saying the word makes her smile.

“And you’ll be my wife-“ Ben’s voice chokes off as she clenches around him. Ben’s hands fly to her waist holding her down as he come. He fills her and fills her, his whole body rigid. The feeling of warmth spreading within her, the power she feels from having him between her legs, trapped within her; it’s a drug.

She come soon after that, the high of his hot come coating her insides. She holds his left hand while at it, brining it to her mouth and kissing at the finger that will, one day (hopefully soon), be ordained with a ring she gives him too.

The problem with not pulling out while relying on the pull out method isn’t something Ben and Rey consider until it’s too late.

And, like most things in life, realization comes a perhaps the most inopportune time.

Rey is sitting at the kitchen bar, next to Leia, and Han and Ben make a flurry of movements around the kitchen. Rey loves seeing Ben like this; messy with food stuck in his hair, but with a concentration that would rival a dog when it smells meat. Han helps, mostly by staying out of the way, but makes a good-hearted attempt at helping Ben contain the beast that is Thanksgiving dinner.

Leia ogles at the ring on Rey’s finger, a growing weight on her hand that Rey has come to love the past few weeks. It does seem, however, to be getting tighter and tighter, but Rey just attributes that to the various cake testing she’s picked up recently. And potential dinner courses they could have at the wedding. And brunch options for the day after the wedding.

Basically, Rey has been eating a lot. (Even for Rey.)

She currently has one hand reaching for the fried olives that Han bust out only during the holidays, the other still being held in Leia’s grasp.

“Oh, I just can’t get over how perfect it is! I always knew Mom’s ring would look so good against your skin tone! Ya know, I tried slipping the ring to Ben after you guys had been dating for two week. I just knew you were the one!” Leia exclaims. The excitement of their engagement hadn’t worn off on Leia quite yet. (Ben worries it never will.)

Ben shoots Rey a shy smile and she returns one of her own, still unused to all the attention.

“So are you sure you want a summer wedding? I mean, it will be beautiful, of course, but fall colors are, in my opinion, significantly better for photos- and bridesmaids dresses!” Leia prattles on.

“We want to do a summer wedding because then it will be winter where we are honeymooning, Mom,” Ben explains, for the millionth time.

“I really don’t care when we have the wedding, as long as Han makes these fried olives for it,” Rey says, reaching for another handful.

“Then it’s gotta be holiday season, Kid,” He says, dumping a fresh batch onto the plate. Rey pouts at him. “No, no faces. Fried Olives have only ever been a Holiday Tradition; if I start making em’ willy nilly, I’ll have Lando up my ass for every party he hosts!” Leia rolls her eyes, and Ben laughs, no doubt imagining his uncle and father going at it over fried food.

“Well, that’s not entirely true, Han” Leia says, popping a fresh one onto her plate. “You made them in the dead of winter, once, when I was pregnant with Ben. Fried olives were the only thing I could eat for a solid two weeks! Ben wouldn’t stop kicking me until I finally at them.”

Leia puts on in her mouth and begins talking again, but all Rey can hear is static.

Rey looks at her plate, her third of the evening, piled high with fired olives. She thinks of her tightening engagement ring, and tightening underwear and pants. She thinks of the bout of ‘food sickness’ she went though last week after she ate a gas station burrito. She thinks of her clear skin and hair that just. keeps. growing. Of her mood swings and appitite.

Then she thinks of Ben and how they defiantly haven’t been pulling out recently. In fact, Rey can’t think of the last time she’s even seen his come. (while the’ve defiantly been having sex.)

Leia is still talking when Rey lifts her head over to Ben, who’s back is to them, but Rey knows he’s connecting the same dots she is. He stands statuesquely still for a moment, frying pan gripped so tightly by his fist that she’s afraid he’ll break his hand, before slowly turning around to meet her gaze.

In his eyes Rey finds shock and terror, but also (overwhelmingly so) warmth and joy and ohmygodwemdeababy.

“Ben? Ben, helloooo, did you hear what I asked. About the caterer I told you about?” Leia ask, none the wiser to the life-changing moment they’re experiencing. After a moment, Ben looks towards his mother.

“Do you think they could do a spring wedding?”

Maé Solo is loud.

She’s loud when she was born, screaming into this world with a fury that only a Solo-Skywalker-Organa could possess. But she was also pink and beautiful and healthy and Ben and Rey couldn’t find it in their hearts to be anything less than adoringly in love with her.

Maé is loud when they bring her home and Daddy leaves the room for a few minutes to make food for Mommy. She wants them in the same room, together. She’s loud when she drinks and makes a mess down her whole body. She’s loud when it’s tummy time and she really, really hates tummy time. She’s loud when its 2A.M. and Mommy and Daddy just got to sleep but she just misses being held by them. She’s loud when she starts teething and naming on everything that can fit into her pink little mouth (including Daddy’s fingers.) She’s loud when Mickey Mouse Clubhouse comes on and she can’t quite figure out how stand up quite yet, but she’s getting better with the crawling.

In short, Maé Solo is a very loud baby.

Including right now, when Ben has just come up for air, his wife’s juices still dripping down his chin. Rey is blissed out, coming down from orgasm, has her hand stroking the shell of his ears. Ben is hard and aching agains Rey’s thigh, cock leaking precome all over her still-stretched out skin. He was moments away from entering his wife, of being able to slide home into the body of the woman he loves so, so much, the mother of his child.

Who is currently screaming her guts out for any number of reasons.

They both peak at the monitor to see if anything is wrong, but Maé is just reaching for the pacifier that is now on the floor of the nursery. Because she threw it there. And now can’t get it back. No one ever said Solo’s were the brightest.

Ben’s head falls to the center of Rey’s uncovered chest. “She’ll go back to sleep eventually,” He says, kissing down the valley of her breast.

“I don’t think she will. Our girl’s got lungs like an opera singer,” Rey says. As if on cue, a particularly harsh wail comes through the monitor. They both sigh, resigning themselves to the trials that are parenthood.

Ben rolls off Rey so that she can get up and go to their daughter. Ben practices deep breathing techniques that he learned during the years of anger management, and wills his erection to fade. It doesn’t matter that it’s been three weeks he reminds himself, babies don’t care about that sort of thing.

Rey tosses on a nightgown before pressing a sweet kiss to her husbands face as he does his breathing exercises. He envelops her in a deeper kiss before she can move away, but their daughter won’t have it. Ben sighs into Rey’s mouth.

“Coitus interruptus,” He says, for no particular reason. Rey quirks a brow at him. “The proper name for the pull out method- our method,” Ben explains.

“Coitus interruptus?” Rey repeats. Ben makes a noise of agreement. “A very apt name,” She concedes.

“It should have been Maé’s middle name.”

come say hi on twitter!

#reylo #reylo fanfiction #ben solo #rey #kylo ren #sw #star wars #adam driver #daisy ridely #my works #reylo drabbles #rey/kylo ren #rey/ben solo #ben x rey #ben solo x rey #rey x kylo ren #twwwd

1 note · View note

vitanes · 5 years

Text

say it’s okay when it’s not

chapter 12: the beginning of the search

Lucas confronts his feelings about what Daphne has done, finds new resolve and reaches interesting gay conclusions.

(a/n: does anyone remember this fic. i only have 4 exams left. the next chapter will be up in 2 weeks and after that we go back to the regular updates!)

“What?”

Lucas feels his knees giving out under him and he takes a step away from Daphne. She uselessly reaches a hand towards him but refrains from touching him when Lucas flinches away.

It feels like his whole world is crumbling down. Lucas is running out of breath, his skin feels itchy and hot, too hot.

“It was you? All those months?” he asks, his voice breaking. His eyes meet Daphne’s and there’s so much guilt in her gaze Lucas could drown. He gasps.

“No,” she claims, her whole face scrunched up. “I only took the pictures. I forgot about them until they were leaked. I swear I wasn’t blackmailing you,” she says, her voice thick with emotions. She stomps for emphasis.

“Someone made you do this? Why would you–“

Daphne cuts in.

“I was drunk and I saw you. I wasn’t thinking, I just snapped the pictures. I have no idea how they got out. Please, believe me. I wouldn’t do something like that to you,” she pleads, desperation clear in her voice. “Someone must have taken hold of my phone. I was so wasted that night.”

Lucas swallows the lump that has formed in his throat. “Why should I believe you?” he asks coldly. He knows that Daphne couldn’t have possibly stopped everything that has happened by telling him, but she had no right in taking those pictures. Essentially, if she hadn’t, this whole mess wouldn’t have happened.

“I may not be the best person but I wouldn’t blackmail someone,” she replies.

“But you took the pictures, no?” That shuts her up quickly. She has no answer to that, can only look at Lucas, hoping that he will forgive her. Tough luck because his ribs are still aching and he can’t stop waking up from nightmares. He isn’t in the best mood to forgive. Not for something like that. “You just want me to pat you on the back, say it’s not your fault, but the person’s who stole the pictures. But it is your fault. And you didn’t even tell me shit. I don’t hate you, Daphne, but I don’t like you very much either,” he spits out, his hands trembling. He can’t keep looking at her, he simply can’t or he will explode even more than he already has.

Lucas doesn’t let her say anything else, too tired of her shit and shakily walks out of the room. He has no idea what to do now. Should he tell someone? Keep it to himself? It’s too much, too fucking much to handle now. He wishes that she had at least said something useful instead of only making it worse. For example, that she had known who exactly stole the pictures.

Fuck.

He kicks a nearby wall and curses under his breath.

***

After his confrontation with Daphne, he’s got a couple of texts from her, all of them consisting of varying I’m sorry’s and what can I do’s. Lucas has left them unanswered, too pissed off to think of something better than a fuck off. He’s also got some worried messages from his other friends, asking about where the hell he’s disappeared – after all he skipped on the last two lessons. Lucas reassured them that everything is okay, but hasn’t provided any further explanation. He doesn’t want to say it. Not yet. As much as he’s angry at Daphne, he isn’t sure he wants to be the cause of their group splitting. Just because she’s done him dirty, doesn’t mean he’s an asshole, too.

At the same time, though, it’s hard to keep it in. That’s why he asks Eliott to hang out on Saturday. Eliott knows Daphne for the shortest time and for some reason it just feels right to confide in him. Lucas knows his go-to should be Yann and he is, but there’s something that tells Lucas things would blow up after that. Or maybe he simply wants to go to Eliott. No reason needed. Sometimes he isn’t quite sure there’s any logic behind his actions.

The moment he sees Eliott, he feels lighter. Eliott sends his way a wide grin while he’s approaching the bench Lucas is sitting on and then he plops down next to him.

“So what’s up?” Eliott asks, giving Lucas a look. Lucas huffs.

“Does something need to be up for me to ask you to hang out?” Lucas replies and hopes that the answer is no, that Eliott doesn’t think he’s convenient only when he’s needed. That’s not true at all.

“No, but you know, considering you disappeared on us it’s safe to assume that something happened,” Eliott says, knocking his elbow into Lucas’, as if sensing his insecurities.

Lucas sighs and licks his bottom lip before speaking, “Daphne took pictures of me and that guy.”

He can feel Eliott tense next to him and he glances at him. First, he looks confused as hell, his eyebrows furrowed but then another emotion takes over his face. Lucas perfectly knows this one. It’s anger.

Eliott lets out a bitter laugh. “Quite a bomb you just dropped on me. I wouldn’t expect her to do something like that.”

Lucas snorts. Well, Daphne being drunk and not respecting people’s privacy isn’t that uncommon. She’s tactless. “For some fucking reason, she wanted to have photos of me kissing a boy. And never said a thing. She wasn’t the one to blackmail me, but it’s still fucked up, isn’t it?” Lucas asks, trying to hide his uncertainty. What if Eliott says he’s blowing things out of proportion? He needs a confirmation that he was rightfully mad at Daphne.

“Yeah. Like, even if you were out and proud she wouldn’t have the right to do that unless you gave her permission. Let alone in this situation,” Eliott says and there are still traces of disbelief in his voice.

“And she’s never even told me a thing. It took someone beating me up for her to come clean,” Lucas mumbles, carding his fingers through his hair. Other than anger, he feels utter disappointment. No matter how unbearable Daphne tends to be, he still considered her a friend. “And so I didn’t want to face anyone yesterday. No guys and God forbid, any of the girls. How can I go and tell them our dear friend fucked me over? I still don’t want to,” he admits quietly, his fingers toying with the hem of his jacket.

“Why did you decide to tell me?” Eliott asks and Lucas looks up at him. The apples of Eliott’s cheeks are tinted pink. It’s a little chilly today, that must be the reason. Lucas’ fingers flex when a stray strand of hair falls into Eliott’s eyes.

“You’re different,” Lucas says, his voice raspy.

Eliott turns towards him and their eyes meet. There’s something bashful in his gaze. “How so?”

Lucas gulps, feeling like they stepped off the track, into another territory. Far away from the topic of the earlier conversation.

Lucas tries to feign nonchalance and shrugs. He can’t really name it. “I don’t know,” he simply says.

Eliott’s thigh pressing against his feels warm.

***

The thing is, Lucas has wanted to find out who the blackmailer was ever since he got the first text. He’s spent hours upon hours wondering who can have a personal vendetta against him. Who would go this far just to destroy him? But the shit kept piling up on his plate, there were no hints indicating who it could be and he’d have developed paranoia than found the culprit. So he stopped. But what Daphne has told him, awoke in him the need for search once again.

He knows it’s not someone who actively took the pictures, but stumbled across them on Daphne’s phone. Someone who had access to her phone, even if for a moment. Which isn’t a lot but still more than Lucas has ever had on this person.

There’s also one more thing that has been bothering Lucas. If it’s not personal, did this person contact the guy he kissed, too? If so, does he know something more?

Lucas knows these leads are too vague and shitty, but he isn’t a professional investigator, but a sixteen-year-old desperately wanting to know the truth.

Considering Lucas met the guy at two different parties, he connects the dots and reaches the conclusion that there is no way none of his friends wouldn’t have him somewhere on their social media.

He spends around two hours tracing the guy and jumps through at least two different social media platforms, but eventually, he manages it. God, if only he had had the same resolve after their make-out session. He could have a boyfriend now.

Lucas scrolls through a couple of the boy’s pictures, just to make sure it’s him. Thank God he met him twice. He wouldn’t be able to recognise him from the memory of his lips only. Lucas was drunk and there wasn’t a lot of light. The second time definitely got engraved in his mind, though. Also, the boy is cute. Lucas can see why he wanted to kiss him. But he isn’t sure it was worth all the mess that followed.

He feels weird, typing out the message. He doesn’t know the dude and their last encounter was less than pleasant. He can only hope the guy doesn’t hold grudges.

Then, right before sending the text, Lucas realises that this boy may not even remember him and is filled with a sudden wave of embarrassment. Maybe he shouldn’t bother?

Lucas shakes his head. This may be a lead to the blackmailer.

Hey, I don’t know if you remember but we made out at a party once. Ik its weird reaching out to you dw no hidden motives but I was blackmailed and outed bc someone took pics of us kissing. I just wanted to ask if they tried to get to you too

Lucas hits send and lets out a heavy sigh, his heart hammering in his chest. He thinks he managed to sound okay. He made it clear that he didn’t stalk the guy he once kissed but had important business. Now, the hope lays in the possibility that this boy isn’t a complete jerk.

He keeps staring at the nearly empty chat for a few minutes, hoping to get the reply soon. Anticipating it strongly. But by the time around five minutes have passed, his nerves have calmed down and there’s still no answer, he deflates. Maybe the guy isn’t online. Lucas should occupy himself with something else. He can’t just keep glaring at his phone.

Lucas does the unexpected and busies himself with homework, groaning loudly when he realises just how far behind he is. After trying – and failing – he moves onto other tasks. He gathers his laundry, cleans up his room and goes to the living room where Lisa is napping and Mika is watching something on the TV. Lucas is glad Manon isn’t there because he still hasn’t figured out how to act around the girls with the Daphne issue.

Lucas tries to get into whatever is on the TV to no avail. He’s too distracted. Mika keeps sending him annoyed looks when he notices just how jittery Lucas is.

“Just what exactly has got into you?” he asks after Lucas can’t keep still for one minute.

“I’m waiting,” he says vaguely, sending Mika an apologetic smile. Mika raises one of his eyebrows and his eyes fall on Lucas’ hands that he entwined to stop them from moving.

“Something good?”

“We’ll see,” Lucas replies and stands up. He deliberately left his phone back in his bedroom as not to check it every few seconds and now he regrets it. Mika doesn’t say anything to him, only watches him with curiosity.

Lucas is glad, it’d be hard to explain what is going on.

Much to his disappointment, there isn’t any notification from the guy and the message still hasn’t been read. Lucas pouts and goes to the kitchen to eat something.

After that, he still manages to do a few things that keep him occupied. By the time it’s evening, he’s already lost all the hope and is watching videos on YouTube when his phone vibrates with the new notification.

He jumps in place and clicks on the communicate so hard it’s a miracle he hasn’t left a dent in the screen.

hey hey yeah I remember I remember everyone who rejected me jksfjds but no no one has texted me man that sucks. are you okay?

Lucas purses his lips into a thin, tight line. It’s hard to hide his disappointment. Why was only he targeted by the blackmailer? Maybe because his face was the most visible in the pictures, but still. Could it be that the blackmailer knows him, but not the boy he kissed? So maybe it was personal. After all, they had Lucas’ number. Unless they stole that from Daphne, too.

He clicks his tongue, rereading the reply. He blushes, yes, he did reject him. It was out of fear, but the fact stands – a boy wanted to kiss him again and Lucas said no. They are basically strangers but Lucas still wants to apologise for that. Considering the boy’s question, should he be honest? Or brush it off and say it’s fine?

Sorry for rejecting you I wasn’t in the best place then Ugh so I guess I’m out of leads again altho I’m glad I was the only one targeted I’m getting better but had some troubles

Lucas figures out that reply is okay. He isn’t pouring his heart out, but isn’t exactly pretending nothing has happened. They talk for a little while and Lucas thinks, it’s nice. The guy tells him that if Lucas ever needs something he can hit him up and despite the fact that Lucas hasn’t got much that would help him with the blackmailer, he doesn’t feel that defeated. Quite the contrary, there is a lot of resolve in him.

He will find out who ruined his life, one way or another.

***

“Hi, mom. How is it going?” Lucas asks, toeing his shoes off. He nods at Mika as he’s crossing the distance to his room and is met with a grin.

“Everything’s fine, but my neighbour. Oh, God. She’s so obnoxious and keeps singing opera. I can’t stand her,” his mom complains, heaving out a loud sigh. Lucas snorts as he enters his bedroom and goes straight for his bed.

“Have you tried asking her to tone it down?” he suggests, staring at his ceiling.

The school was hard today. He had a test he was pretty much unprepared for and the problem with Daphne has been gnawing at him all the time. He still isn’t sure whether he should let the others know. Isn’t that an issue between the two of them? Besides, if he makes this fact known, people will start picking sides. He isn’t that worried about the boys, but the girls? They will be divided. And hanging out together will become troublesome. God, at this point Lucas regrets she’s even told him.

“Are you there?”

Lucas snaps out of his thoughts. “Yeah, yeah, I’m listening,” he blurts out.

“Then what was I saying just now?”

Lucas opens his mouth to reply, searching his brain for an answer but comes up blank. “Okay, I lost it.” His mom huffs.

“I said that yes, I did ask her but she said it helps in her therapy.”

“That’s… unfortunate,” Lucas says dumbly.

“Okay, I can hear you thinking all the way from there. What’s on your mind?”

Lucas sits up abruptly. “Let’s say you get caught kissing a boy by someone and they blackmail you for months and then out you. You’re in a big, supportive friend group. Then, one of the girls comes to you and tells you she snapped the pictures that were later used to give you hell. Do you tell the rest?” Lucas says all in one breath.

His mom hums thoughtfully. “Oddly specific,” she states sarcastically and makes Lucas chuckle. “Does no one else know?”

“I told Eliott because I couldn’t deal with it alone,” Lucas says. He still isn’t sure why exactly he chose Eliott and not Yann. He kind of feels like he betrayed his best friend. Maybe he should at least tell him?

“You two have sure grown close. Didn’t you start off as enemies?” she asks, not really answering Lucas’ question. He falls back on his pillow and puts his forearm over his eyes.

“It was me being a jealous prick and him trying to become my friend. I’ve matured,” Lucas declares. He can’t really tell his mom they smoke weed together and that’s how Lucas’ animosity died down. “So what would you do?”

“It’s a tough situation. In the ideal scenario, she would come clean by herself. Own up to her mistakes. But I suppose it’s not happening?”

“I doubt it.”

“If not telling bothers you this much, you should let the closest people know. It’ll take some weight off your shoulders.”

“I thought you’d tell me something about how I should forgive her because Jesus said so,” Lucas jokes. He knows he shouldn’t mix his mom’s religious beliefs up with this but he can’t help it. It’s what he’s used to.

“Well, forgiveness should happen only if you really forgive someone and I don’t think you feel like doing it. She caused you so much pain, even if indirectly. Sometimes, you should be allowed not to forgive,” his mom says quietly and Lucas wonders if she’s ever forgiven his father. If she struggles with it because she is supposed to forgive, but everything bad that’s ever happened overshadows it. “I love God and Jesus, but sometimes I disagree. I’m only human and can’t forgive every single person. Neither should you,” she adds after a minute or two.

Yeah, Lucas doesn’t think he could do it even if he wanted to. That wound runs too deep.

“Thank you, mom,” he says, clutching the phone in his palm.

“I hope it helped a bit.”

“It did.” He smiles under his nose and drags a hand down his face. “Ah,” he perks up, “I’ve decided to go to the police. About the beating up. But I’ll need an adult. Will you go with me?” he asks. Lucas hopes his mom will agree, otherwise he’d have to ask his father and it’s the last thing he wants to do. It took him a lot to even make this decision.

Arthur was delighted when Lucas told him about it and promised to go with him. Lucas still isn’t sure about it, but he thinks that if he doesn’t stand up now, he never will. He’s also going to ask whether the blackmail thing could be reported as well – after all, he’s got the whole proof of the crime, just not the criminal.

“Of course, Lucas. Just let me know when.”

“Friday? I’ll send you more details later.”

“Okay.”

***

Lucas is scribbling down an answer when a certain thought comes to his mind. He steals a glance at Imane. She seems very engrossed in the task, as should he. Too bad he’s going to interrupt her.

He taps her with his pencil and her eyes shoot up to his face, her expression exasperated.

“Yes?”

Lucas scratches the sides of his neck with the end of his pencil, trying to find the correct words. “I know it’s hard to remember but have you ever been at a party and Daphne was really fucking wasted?” he asks, realising halfway through just how dumb he sounds. He doesn’t want to tell Imane the truth per se, but he has the subtlety of an elephant and he isn’t sure whether he’s able to pull it off without letting anything slip out.

“Literally every single party since I’ve known her,” Imane deadpans.

“The party right before you all started working on the common room and we became partners?” He hopes that will ring the bell. Lucas doesn’t even know if Imane was at that party, but it’s safe to assume that since Daphne was, Imane could have been as well.

She frowns and tilts her head to the side. “What about it?”

“Do you remember anything?” he asks, hoping his tone masks his emotions well.

“Not really? Not anything specific. Why?”

“It was the party the pictures were taken at. I guess the blackmailer was present,” Lucas explains, resigned and goes back to his exercise. If he doesn’t want to go into any more details, he should stop there. Imane has a way of figuring things out.

“And it’s connected to Daphne? How?” Yup, there it is.

Lucas sighs. “Drop it,” he mutters. He thought that if something remarkable had happened then, involving someone else, then he’d have a lead. He needs to narrow down the suspects, otherwise he can as well accuse the entirety of Paris.

Lucas is aware his search is long postponed, that he should have done it when everything was much fresher, but the thing is, sometimes he lacks rational thinking. Back then he was also really fucking terrified and was on the verge of becoming paranoid. As of now, he’s able to reflect on things with a clear mind.

“Lucas,” Imane starts warningly and Lucas looks towards her once again. There’s concern in her eyes and that’s the last thing he wanted to cause. She has already spent enough time worrying about him, there is no need in adding up more of it.

“Doesn’t matter. Really,” he assures her, putting on a smile.

“You can’t just start something and then not tell me. What did Daphne do?” Imane asks, scowling at him.

“Quiet. You’re supposed to be doing your exercises, not chatting up your partner. There are breaks for that,” the teacher butts in and Lucas nods vigorously, going back to his notebook. He was saved this time. Small mercies, even if the expression on Imane’s face he can see out of the corner of his eye is telling him they’re not finished.

Imane’s next words only confirm it. “When this class is over, we’re talking.”

Unfortunate because as soon as the bell rings, Lucas is out of the classroom so quickly it’s a miracle he doesn’t trip over his own feet.

***

Eliott has hands. That’s an observation Lucas makes watching Eliott play with a rubber band during lunch on Thursday. Eliott is doing it subconsciously, while he is talking with the rest. His movements are swift. He’s already finished his meal and Lucas has no clue where the rubber band came from, but he’s fascinated by the fingers stretching it out or twirling it around.

Lucas isn’t eating anymore, just idly dragging his fork around the remnants on his plate. He’s got his head propped up on his palm and every once in a while he lets out a sigh.

Eliott has hands and Lucas would know since he touched them on countless occasions. More than once he held them in his own. How come has he never paid much attention, though? The fingers are slender and Eliott’s nails seem pristine. From only looking, one could assume they are rough and calloused, but Lucas remembers clearly that’s not the case. They are soft and gentle.

Big, too.

Lucas sighs again and reaches out for his soda. He takes a sip and from the corner of his eye notices Arthur watching him. Lucas glances at him and arches an eyebrow but Arthur only shakes his head and waves him away. Lucas shrugs and places his drink back on the table. His eyes jump back to Eliott. He’s stopped fiddling with the rubber band. It’s around his left wrist now. His fingers are tapping on the table.

Tap, tap.

Lucas’ eyes slide up and pause at Eliott’s throat. Its muscles are moving as Eliott keeps talking and laughing. Lucas gulps and lets his eyes wander higher, right to Eliott’s lips.

Eliott’s got pretty lips. This makes Lucas remember a certain embarrassing dream he pushed very deep into the back of his mind and he takes his eyes off Eliott’s lips just as quickly as they settled there. It seems like entering into dangerous territory. Better not feed Lucas’ imagination with any imageries.

He ends up on Eliott’s eyes and finds them looking right back at him.

Lucas sits up straighter, feeling his whole body flush with warmth.

Eliott smiles at him and Lucas, trying to play it cool, grins back. He’s just been caught red-handed staring at Eliott. Lucas wants to die.

He keeps his grin for the few seconds that Eliott’s gaze stays on him and right after Eliott moves his attention to Basile, Lucas’ expression drops and it takes all of his willpower not to hide his face in his hands.

What the fuck. He must be so red. He knows he is, he can feel his cheeks burning. His heart beating rapidly in his chest isn’t helping either. God.

“So we need to take care of that mural,” Basile says and Lucas thanks heavens there is something to ground him so he won’t lose his shit. He can’t freak out if he has to take part in a civil conversation, right?

“Do we?” Eliott asks and every single one of them looks at him with confusion. His shoulders draw up.

“Weren’t you the one who was the most excited about it?” Arthur raises an eyebrow at Eliott.

“People change,” Eliott says matter-of-factly. “Why even bother?”

“You know, it’s the common room. Unity, friendship, respect. Daphne really cares about it,” Yann replies, shrugging.

Eliott clicks his tongue. “Oh, yeah, because Daphne is all about friendship and respect,” he lets out bitterly.

Eliott is still pissed off on Lucas’ behalf. For some reason it makes Lucas’ heart flutter.

“Um, did something happen?” Yann asks, frowning.

Eliott briefly glances up at Lucas before moving his gaze to some neutral area. “I just don’t really care much about what’s important to Daphne, that’s all.”

Lucas could kiss him right now.

(Platonically, of course.)

“Dude, what happened? Didn’t you have so many ideas for it?” Basile chimes in.

“I still like this whole concept. Just not Daphne,” Eliott replies calmly. It’s apparent that the guys have no idea what to think about Eliott’s behaviour. He doesn’t show animosity towards anyone, he was the nicest guy even when Lucas acted like a dick towards him. No wonder the boys are this shocked, especially since Eliott got really involved in this thing.

“But did she do something? I know Daphne can be a lot but why be this harsh?” Arthur asks and Yann nods while Basile lets out a ‘yeah’.

Eliott seems uncomfortable and he fidgets in his seat. He doesn’t look like he wants to take his words back, but his pose screams anxious. He isn’t even making any eye-contact with them. Lucas curls his hand into a fist.

“Daphne took the pictures that the blackmailer used against me,” Lucas says and sees how the tension seeps off Eliott in an instant. He was fighting for Lucas’ sake and probably didn’t expect Lucas to say anything, but Lucas couldn’t leave him alone.

“No way,” Basile says after a few beats of awkward silence.

“You’re shitting us, right?” Arthur adds, his tone baffled.

Lucas shakes his head. “I wish. She told me last Friday,” Lucas mutters and looks towards Yann. The realisation flashes across his face and he nods. He must remember the exact moment Daphne asked Lucas to stay. “She didn’t blackmail me, but still. If not for her, I wouldn’t be in this shit. I only told Eliott, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to make things worse for her by telling anyone else so,” he explains weakly and looks over their faces.

“No wonder Eliott was this angry,” Basile comments and Lucas bites down on his bottom lip.

Eliott is the only one he initially told about it and then Eliott showed his solidarity without letting anything on to the boys. Lucas wonders how it all looks to them. He hopes they don’t feel like he doesn’t trust them.

Arthur groans and threads his fingers through his hair. “That situation is fucked up. And we still promised to paint that damn mural to the girls. Fuck.”

“At this point, I don’t want to have anything to do with Daphne either,” Yann says, displeasure painted all over his face.

Yeah, they’ll have to work around it somehow.

***

Lucas is dreading the last bell on Friday, but when it does ring and he gets out of the classroom to see Arthur waiting for him, his nerves calm down, if only a little. He decided it was his and Arthur’s thing to do, kind of symbolic to their bond, and so the other guys simply told them to let them know how it goes.

The case is known to the police but Lucas will still have to talk about everything that happened, revisit painful memories and he’s so scared. He feels like he’s seven again and the fact his mom will be there is the only thing that makes him step forward.

Arthur keeps brushing Lucas’ arm every now and then and Lucas figures out it’s his way of showing support without words. Lucas is glad since he isn’t sure anything verbal would help him at the moment anyway.

“Hey, I have a question. You don’t have to say anything, though it’ll be an answer in itself,” Arthur says suddenly and Lucas frowns at him.

“Yeah?” Lucas’ palms get even clammier than they’ve been before.

“Do you have a crush on Eliott? Or like, are you guys together?” Arthur asks, his cheeks getting pink.

Lucas misses a step but recovers quickly and continues walking. “No? Why are you asking?” For him, that question doesn’t make sense. Eliott is the one crushing.

Arthur chuckles and shrugs one of his shoulders. “It would explain a lot. Like, I don’t know, I was just thinking that you hating him back then might have been some sort of pulling at his ponytails thing. Like middle schoolers do. And you are so close now. You even tell him things before us. Besides, I saw you staring at him a lot. So it got me thinking. I guess I was wrong, yeah?” he asks, stealing a glance at Lucas. He looks embarrassed now. To the point, he probably can’t see the bewilderment on Lucas’ face.

God, Arthur noticed Lucas staring at Eliott. Way to go, Lucas, way to go.

Lucas lets out a nervous chuckle and shakes his head. “We just get along, that’s all,” he says, gazing at the pavement.

“I see. Sorry for jumping to conclusions. I suppose my disillusioned ass just sees things it wants to see,” Arthur jokes.

“Why would you want to see me and Eliott together?” Lucas asks and realises too late that it’s a bad question. Something deep inside Lucas tells him that he shouldn’t want to know the answer.

“It’s not about you two, but like, I’m gay so I want to see some gay love, you get me? And I think you two could be cute together. Sorry if it sounds weird. I just thought I saw something that wasn’t there,” he says, sending Lucas an apologetic smile. “Anyways, we’ve arrived,” he adds, abandoning the topic and nods straight ahead.

Indeed, Lucas can see the police station and the silhouette of his mom standing by the entrance.

Lucas clenches his jaw. He can do it.

#elu #elu fic #elu fanfic #skam france #skam france fic #skam france fanfic #lucas x eliott #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant

77 notes · View notes

jcmorgenstern · 5 years

Text

@superohclair oh god okay please know these are all just incoherent ramblings so like, idk, please feel free to add on or ignore me if im just wildly off base but this is a bad summary of what ive been thinking about and also my first titans/batman meta?? (also, hi!)

okay so for the disclaimer round: I am not an actual cultural studies major, nor do I have an extensive background in looking at the police/military industrial complex in media. also my comics knowledge is pretty shaky and im a big noob(I recently got into titans, and before that was pretty ignorant of the dceu besides batman) so I’ll kind of focus in on the show and stuff im more familiar with and apologize in advance?. basically im just a semi-educated idiot with Opinions, anyone with more knowledge/expertise please jump in! this is literally just the bullshit I spat out incoherently off the top of my head. did i mention im a comics noob? because im a comics noob.

so on a general level, I think we can all agree that batman as a cultural force is somewhat on the conservative side, if not simply due to its age and commercial positioning in American culture. there are a lot of challenges and nuances to that and it’s definitely expanding and changing as DC tries to position itself in the way that will...make the most money, but all you have to do is take a gander through the different iterations of the stories in the comics and it’ll smack you in the fucking face. like compare the first iteration of Jason keeping kids out of drugs to the titans version and you’ve got to at least chuckle. at the end of the day, this is a story about a (white male) billionaire who fights crime.

to be fair, I’d argue the romanticization of the police isn’t as aggressive as it could be—they are most often presented as corrupt and incompetent. However, considering the main cop characters depicted like Jim Gordon, the guys in Gotham (it’s been a while since I saw it, sorry) are often the romanticized “good few” (and often or almost always white cis/het men), that’s on pretty shaky ground. I don’t have the background in the comics strong enough to make specific arguments, so I’ll cede the point to someone who does and disagrees, but having recently watched a show that deals excellently with police incompetence, racism, and brutality (7 Seconds on Netflix), I feel at the very least something is deeply missing. like, analysis of race wrt police brutality in any aspect at all whatsoever.

I think it can be compellingly read that batman does heavily play into the military/police industrial complex due to its takes on violence—just play the Arkham games for more than an hour and you’ll know what I mean. to be a little less vague, even though batman as a franchise valorizes “psychiatric treatment” and “nonviolence,” the entire game seems pretty aware it characterizes treatment as a madhouse and nonviolence as breaking someone’s back or neck magically without killing them because you’re a “good guy.” while it is definitely subversive that the franchise even considers these elements at all, they don’t always do a fantastic job living up to them.

and then when you consider the fetishization of tools of violence both in canon and in the fandom, it gets worse. same with prisons—if anything it dehumanizes people in prisons even more than like, cop shows in general, which is pretty impressive(ly bad). like there’s just no nuance afforded and arkham is generally glamorized. the fact that one of the inmates is a crocodile assassin, I will admit, does not help. im not really sure how to mitigate that when, again, one of the inmates is a crocodile assassin, but I think my point still stands. fuck you, killer croc. (im just kidding unfuck him or whatever)

not to take this on a Jason Todd tangent but I was thinking about it this afternoon and again when thinking about that cop scene again and in many ways he does serve as a challenge to both batman’s ideology as well as the ideology of the franchise in general. his depiction is always a bit of a sticking point and it’s always fascinating to me to see how any given adaptation handles it. like Jason’s “”street”” origin has become inseparable from his characterization as an angry, brash, violent kid, and that in itself reflects a whole host of cultural stereotypes that I might argue occasionally/often dip into racialized tropes (like just imagine if he wasn’t white, ok). red hood (a play on robin hood and the outlaws, as I just realized...today) is in my exposure/experience mostly depicted as a villain, but he challenges batman’s no-kill philosophy both on an ethical and practical level. every time the joker escapes he kills a whole score more of innocent people, let alone the other rogues—is it truly ethical to let him live or avoid killing him for the cost of one life and let others die?

moreover, batman’s ““blind”” faith in the justice system (prisons, publicly-funded asylum prisons, courts) is conveniently elided—the story usually ends when he drops bad guy of the day off at arkham or ties up the bad guys and lets the police come etc etc. part of this is obviously bc car chases are more cinematic than dry court procedurals, but there is an alternate universe where bruce wayne never becomes batman and instead advocates for the arkham warden to be replaced with someone competent and the system overhauled, or in programs encouraging a more diverse and educated police force, or even into social welfare programs. (I am vaguely aware this is sometimes/often part of canon, but I don’t think it’s fair to say it’s the main focus. and again, I get it’s not nearly as cinematic).

overall, I think the most frustrating thing about the batman franchise or at least what I’ve seen or read of it is that while it does attempt to deal with corruption and injustice at all levels of the criminal justice system/government, it does so either by treating it as “just how life is” or having Dick or Jim Gordon or whoever the fuckjust wipe it out by “eliminating the dirty cops,” completely ignoring the non-fantasy ways these problems are dealt with in real life. it just isn’t realistic. instead of putting restrictions on police violence or educating cops on how to use their weapons or putting work into eradicating the culture of racism and prejudice or god basically anything it’s just all cinematized into the “good few” triumphing over the bad...somehow. its always unsatisfying and ultimately feels like lip service to me, personally.

this also dovetails with the very frustrating way mental health/”insanity” or “madness” is dealt with in canon, very typical of mainstream fiction. like for example:“madness is like gravity, all it takes is a little push.” yikes, if by ‘push’ you mean significant life stressors, genetic load, and environemntal influences, then sure. challenge any dudebro joker fanboy to explain exactly what combination of DSM disorders the joker has to explain his “””insanity””” and see what happens. (these are, in fact, my plans for this Friday evening. im a hit at parties).

anyway I do really want to wax poetic about that cop scene in 1x06 so im gonna do just that! honestly when I first saw that I immediately sat up like I’d sat on a fucking tack, my cultural studies senses were tingling. the whole “fuck batman” ethos of the show had already been interesting to me, esp in s1, when bruce was basically standing in for the baby boomers and dick being our millennial/GenX hero. I do think dick was explicitly intended to appeal to a millennial audience and embody the millennial ethos. By that logic, the tension between dick and Jason immediately struck me as allegorical (Jason constantly commenting on dick being old, outdated, using slang dick doesn’t understand and generally being full of youthful obnoxious fistbumping energy).

Even if subconsciously on the part of the writers, jason’s over-aggressive energy can be read as a commentary on genZ—seen by mainstream millennial/GenX audiences as taking things too far. Like, the cops in 1x06 could have been Nick Zucco’s hired men or idk pretty much anyone, yet they explicitly chose cops and even had Jason explain why he deliberately went after them for being cops so dick (cop) could judge him for it. his rationale? he was beaten up by cops on the street, so he’s returning the favor. he doesn’t have the focused “righteous” rage of batman or dick/nightwing towards valid targets, he just has rage at the world and specifically the system—framed here as unacceptable or fanatical. as if like, dressing up like a bat and punching people at night is, um, totally normal and uncontroversial.

on a slightly wider scope, the show seems to internally struggle with its own progressive ethos—on the one hand, they hire the wildly talented chellah man, but on the other hand they will likely kill him off soon. or they cast anna diop, drawing wrath from the loudly racist underbelly of fandom, but sideline her. perhaps it’s a genuine struggle, perhaps they simply don’t want to alienate the bigots in the fanbase, but the issue of cops stuck out to me when I was watching as an social issue where they explicitly came down on one side over the other. jason’s characterization is, I admit and appreciate, still nuanced, but I’d argue that’s literally just bc he’s a white guy and a fan favorite. cast an actor of color as Jason and see how fast fandom and the writer’s room turns on him.

anyway i don’t really have the place to speak about what an explicitly nonwhite!cop!dick grayson would look like, but I do think it would be a fascinating and exciting place to start in exploring and correcting the kind of vague and nebulous complaints i raise above. (edit: i should have made more clear, i mean in the show, which hasn’t dealt with dick’s heritage afaik). also, there’s something to be said about the cop vs detective thing but I don’t really have the brain juice or expertise to say it? anyway if you got this far i hope it was at least interesting and again pls jump in id love to hear other people’s takes!!

tldr i took two (2) cultural studies classes and have Opinions

#wow this was a hot fucking mess #i tried to be organized but my thoughts weren't coming out super well #again anyone interested please feel free to jump in or correct me at any place you feel like #i die on the ''jason todd would be treated horribly by fandom if he were a character of color' hill tho #i could go on about 1x06 until im blue in the face but that's the uhh overview. the executive summary.#dc titans #i need meta tags and shit for this show #god help me in too deep #finding the meta side of fandom was a GIFT tho i love this shit #so excited

16 notes · View notes

kibaes · 6 years

Note

Z please~

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go

Ah I’m in too many fandoms, I’ll rant about the main thing on my mind (If you want a specific one feel free to send another ask!)

So I’ve said this before but I’ll say it again: Black Clover is criminally underrated. People saw one or two episodes and immediately decided it was shitty because Asta screams a lot. Obviously, if that’s something that bothers you then you don’t owe the show to keep watching it, but just the way people treat it in the anime fanbase is annoying. One of the things that’s most annoying (that I’ve also said before) is that while Black Clover is considered trash (Western fanbase), BNHA is considered the best anime ever. BNHA is so popular that even non-anime fans watch it! Don’t get me wrong, I freakin’ love BNHA, but it gets too much-undeserved praise. So again, I like both shows a lot, but in this rant, I’ll explain why BNHA isn’t much better than Black Clover (heck, I prefer Black Clover).

I’ll start with the most obvious and talked about reasons- the way female characters are treated in each show. Some people praise BNHA for how they treat female characters, which I really don’t get. Other than an episode and a half where you kind of see Momo’s insecurities and her getting over them, the female characters don’t get any development or focus. Even Uraraka, the main female protagonist, doesn’t have much of a personality other than liking Deku, which by the way, is another annoying trait that too many characters in BNHA have. Now Asta also has his own harem which makes no sense at all (why would Mimosa like Asta when YUNO IS RIGHT THERE?), but unlike Deku’s harem, the characters in Asta’s harem have their own development and personalities, the most notable being Noelle, the main female protagonist. Noelle started off as a snobby rich person who deep down was unconfident and didn’t believe in herself, but throughout the anime/manga, she overcame (some of) her fears and managed to control her magic and acquire new spells. Having said that, Asta helped her overcome her fears, making her crush on him make some sense, while Uraraka’s crush on Deku doesn’t really make sense. BNHA uses the same excuse that Deku made her realize she can become a better hero or something like that, but this doesn’t really make much sense because it’s not like she wasn’t planning on doing that before. You can say she used to want to be a hero to earn easy money, but that’s not entirely true, and I think it’s safe to say Uraraka’s crush on Deku comes out of nowhere, especially when you compare it to Noelle’s crush on Asta. Uraraka’s crush on Deku is more like Rebecca’s crush on Asta- kind of pointless and doesn’t develop the plot or the characters in any way. Again, I have nothing against Deku x Uraraka and heck I even ship it, but when that’s all the main female protagonist is amounted to you can’t say it has strong female characters. In addition to that, most of the female pro-heroes in BNHA use their sex appeal in one way or another to defeat bad guys or make themselves more popular. In my opinion, it’s fine if there’s one character like that, but having 90% of the female characters do that just makes it uninteresting and annoying. On the other hand, I can’t think of any female character who uses her sex appeal to battle (maybe Vanessa a little, although she uses it more to persuade Finral to fight). There’s Charlotte who’s really cool and strong, and her crush on Yami is adorable (you can say it takes away from her character and her main trait is liking Yami the same way Uraraka likes Deku. I personally disagree but can see why someone would say this, but then again Charlotte isn’t the main female protagonist like Uraraka), and if you don’t think she’s a good example of a strong female character, read the manga and wait for Mereoleona, who’s quite possibly my all-time favorite female characters. Another small addition to this point can be their outfits- BC has much less revealing outfits than BNHA has. Plus too many of the revealing outfits worn in BNHA are worn by young girls, some who aren’t even comfortable in them! Long story short, BNHA definitely doesn’t deserve praise for the way it treats female characters, especially when you compare it to a show like Black Clover, who does so much better.

Now for a more personal opinion- Asta is much much better than Deku. People like to praise BNHA saying it’s progressive because it’s not like other Shounen shows. One of the main differences I see between BNHA and other Shounen shows is Deku. While most Shounens have an overpowered goofball who eats a lot as the main character, BNHA’s Deku is pretty different. Personally, I don’t even like Deku, so him being the main character is a big turn off for me (he did get better in season 3 but in the manga, he continues to annoy me). Now let me explain my point better. There’s a reason most Shounen main characters are similar- ITS GOOD. I’m not saying having something different is bad (I’ll come back to this), but the stereotypical main characters Shounen’s have are adorable and always loved. A lot of people dislike Black Clover because Asta screamed too much. First off, he screams less later on, and it actually becomes funny later (characters in the show itself address it). Also if that’s the only problem you can try to read the manga. Like I said before, these types of main characters are popular because they’re successful. They’re the type of character that goes around influencing people to be better without realizing it (Asta, Luffy, Naruto, Natsu). Deku fits the role of the unconfident kid that later is inspired by one of these characters, rather than being the one that does the inspiring. Deku gets so much attention just for existing- in the beginning, he did risk his life despite not having any quirk which was cool, but later he just does what anyone else (or at least a few other characters) would do in his situation. We’ve seen many characters put their lives in danger, and just because Deku just happens to conveniently be in places where he gets to show that he’s willing to risk his life, he gets all the credit. Adding to this, I’ll never get over how All Might picked a random kid he saw trying to save his friend (which by the way, Deku still considering Bakugo a friend is baffling to me because of how he treated him. Get a clue!) over freakin’ Mirio!!!! Mirio fits the main character role much better than Deku- he has a quirk that seems useless but after hard training, he managed to make it one of the best quirks out there. He also gave up so much to save one little girl (which by the way, Deku stole all the attention in the end and now Eri likes him for no reason). Anyways, I know most people do like Deku so these points might not seem too strong, but I can’t really see how a character like Deku can be main. He’s pretty boring and I think he fits the role of a side character much better. Something that could’ve made BNHA more interesting to me (with Deku as the main character) is if he never got the One For All. Obviously, it’d make for a pretty different show, but it’s pretty boring when you know the main character already has the strongest power ever and he will become the best superhero because of it. You can even compare this to a show like One Piece- Luffy has the Gum Gum fruit, sure, but no one ever said that’s the strongest devil fruit there is, we know there are stronger ones. Plus it’s never been confirmed Luffy will become the Pirate King (although it’s pretty safe to assume he will be). A better example is how we don’t know if Asta will become the Wizard King. He probably will, but there is still some element of mystery whereas in BNHA one of the first lines is Deku confirming he’ll become the strongest hero, which as I said before, isn’t a big surprise considering he has the strongest quirk there is. Personally, I think Deku staying quirkless and overcoming hurdles that way is much more interesting (again, would make for a different show but still), which is exactly what happens in Black Clover with Asta which is one reason I really love BC. Asta manages to become a strong magic knight despite his lack of magic and how everyone always ridicules him. Plus it never gets old to see a bad guy making fun of Asta for not having any Mana and then Asta destroying them. Anyways, Deku still can’t control his powers which is a big focus of the show which is good, since if he could control them there really wouldn’t be any point, but the fact he has the strongest quirk makes him becoming the strongest hero pretty obvious and anticlimactic. To conclude this segment, everyone hates on Asta for being an annoying main character while they praise Deku for being different. Different does not equal good, they gave up on Asta too quickly in my opinion, and personally, I just don’t like Deku.

Another reason people dropped Black Clover was because the story is pretty generic. I agree that at first when I heard Asta wanted to become the Wizard King, I thought it was pretty silly, but once Yuno and Asta leave the village, it becomes much more interesting. Plus, there is an actual bigger plot like in BNHA which most people didn’t even reach before they decided to drop the show. If you aren’t a fan of Shounen shows, then I get why you might’ve dropped Black Clover (no offense though why did you start it? It has ‘Shounen trash’ written all over it) but if you generally are, I really really recommend to give it another try!

Now a short list of other things I love in BC more than in BNHA that I can’t really backup: the art style, the openings (fight me) and focus distribution (the amount of focus each character gets).

Despite all the shit I said, I LOVE BNHA!! It’s a great show with an awesome plot, cool fighting sequences, characters, character interactions, and pace. I’m just tired of seeing it put on a pedestal while Black Clover is considered bad. I just pointed out things that I believe BC is better at to put things into perspective, but they’re both great shows I highly recommend!

#Black Clover #BNHA #BNHA discourse #?#I have more to say but this is really already

24 notes · View notes

hippo-euphoria · 6 years

Text

Empty Streets and Neon Lights | Bildungsroman Challenge

Hey, so I finally finished the sequel to Sea Turtles, and because it lined up so nicely with the challenge I decided to use this as my submission. I specifically focused on the themes of these quotes:

“I wondered if that’s how forgiveness budded; not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.”

- Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner

“Because things change. And friends leave. And life doesn’t stop for anybody.”

-Stephen Chbosky, Perks of Being a Wallflower

“You have to accept that sometimes that’s how things happen in this world. People’s opinions, their feelings, they go one way, then the other. It just so happens you grew up at a certain point in this process.”

- Kazuo Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go

Empty Streets and Neon Lights - read on ao3 (can’t link bc of tumblr purge but ( https:// archive of our own .org/works/16758763 ) )

pairings: yoonkook, namjin

word count: 33,931

genre: slow burn, hurt/comfort, light angst

warnings: light angst, sexuality crisis

summary: Jeongguk tries to find his place in Seoul's art scene as well as the balance between JK, the artist, and himself. But how can he do that when he doesn't even know his real self; maybe the real Jeongguk is still in America, reliving all those Moments he's tried so hard to forget, and when his hand hurts too much to actually create anything, can he even call himself an artist?

Jeongguk, a freelance artist, at some sort of science-y convention with his chemist friend, Jimin. He doesn’t want to be here, he finds things like this painfully disinteresting, but Jimin didn’t want to come alone, and Jeongguk supposes he does kind of owe him, seeing as Jimin has attended almost every single one of his pop-up galleries and exhibitions. Also, he promised to buy Jeongguk dinner.

“Stop scowling,” Jimin pinches his arm, creating a briefly noticeable crease on Jeongguk’s nice, situationally appropriate white button-up.

“I’m not,” He hisses, flinching away from Jimin and smoothing over his sleeve.

“You are,” Jimin insists, and he’s honestly probably right. “You look like you hate everyone here because one time you held the door for them and they didn’t say ‘thank you’ or something,” Okay that’s fair.

Jeongguk would’ve been annoyed regardless, he doesn’t understand most of this stuff, so he probably would’ve spent the evening scrolling through various social media platforms and maybe lowkey stalking the couple thousand fans who follow his art instagram. He doesn’t really stalk them, he just goes through and tries to pick out if any of the accounts are other artists or journalists or something along those lines. Anyway, the point is he would’ve been bored if it was any other topic, but this conference is about the ocean, and Jeongguk is leaning more towards irritated rather than passively annoyed.

Jimin conveniently forgot to mention that this conference is geared towards the ocean, finding new ways to clean it up and what not, and Jeongguk hates the ocean, hates the beach. Okay, maybe he doesn’t hate it, he just tries his best to avoid anything to do with the marine world. This all really is a noble cause because yes, the ocean is a mess and could do with some light spring cleaning, but he’d just rather be left out of it all, if he’s being totally honest.

In the art gallery of Jeongguk’s mind, where memories hang like paintings and decorate the hallways - all Good, Bad, and In Between Moments - he doesn’t want to think of the room holding every Moment he wants to forget. A room roped off and where the lights of his consciousness went out years ago and he hasn’t yet bothered to change the bulbs; everything is perpetually dark and dusty, almost each Moment is from his one semester in America. He doesn’t want to remember anything he shoves in that room, but perhaps above all, he doesn’t want to remember the boy with oceans in his eyes.

But here he is, trying to follow Jimin while staring intently at his back or messing around on his phone, anything to ignore the innocent enough posters depicting dolphins leaping from the water, sea turtles on a shore, or shells half-buried in the sand, because each time he catches a glimpse, the lights flicker just the slightest before going dark again.

Jeongguk tried to forget, he really did, but for months after they’d come home, it hurt. He couldn’t visit the beach in the early morning with his mother to pick up shells, he couldn’t tag along with Jimin and their friend group for beach parties or bonfires, all because he couldn’t be there without remembering.

So he tried to bury everything and pretend like America never happened, and eventually succeeded, to a point. After breaking down with Jimin, he began actively forcing away thoughts of him; he buried the memories as deep as he could, and pushed everything into that room in the back of his gallery to be shut away and ignored. But they were still there, and this conference was threatening to bring them up to the surface.

Jimin leads him through a set of double doors into a room where the floor goes from beige tiles to flat carpet that’s got to have a hundred or more chairs, facing an elevated podium. Someone is supposed to speak - there was a poster outside probably, but Jeongguk was too busy focusing on Jimin’s back to notice. They take their seats, choosing the last row because even though Jimin is somewhat small, he doesn’t really need to see the presenter. Also, if they sit in the last row, the pair can whisper to each other without eyes boring into their backs, and Jeongguk can be on his phone without too much judgement. Jeongguk busies himself with a pointless match-three game, the seats fill, and eventually someone steps up to the podium and provides an introduction of the speaker. Jeongguk doesn’t hear the speaker’s name or any of the introduction, probably because he doesn’t care to pay attention, but when he starts talking, Jeongguk recognizes his voice, the lazy syllables all too familiar. Jeongguk’s head jerks up to see none other than Min Yoongi standing at the podium, speaking with the force of the ocean in his words about something - he’s too panicked to listen. His heart stops, Jimin speaks next to him.

“Isn’t that-” Jimin begins asking, then takes one look at Jeongguk’s wide eyes and sudden pallor. “Yeah okay, bathroom,” He whispers and tugs on Jeongguk’s arm, and they sneak out of the lecture and across the convention center to the restrooms. It’s noisy and crowded, people milling around different exhibits and speaking over each other as scientists do when they have a point to prove, and Jeongguk suddenly feels small. As an artist he is very out of his element here. He reaches out a hand to grasp Jimin’s sleeve, and lets himself be led through the maze of bodies, too many wearing white lab coats, and when they finally reach it, Jeongguk locks himself in a stall and dry heaves, nothing comes out.

Jimin leans casually against the sink when Jeongguk lets himself out of the stall, arms crossed and eyes holding thinly veiled concern.

“You okay?” Jeongguk shakes his head and proceeds to splash cold water on his face because maybe this is all a horribly fucked up dream or like, three nightmares in one. “Thought so, I really can’t leave, but how about you take an uber home and I’ll see you there?”

Jeongguk nods. It’s not like he really has a choice, because Jimin had apparently already ordered the car and it’s there by the time Jeongguk composes himself enough to exit the bathroom - Jimin had locked it, much to the dismay of other attendants; Jeongguk tries not to think of the assumptions behind two men locking themselves in the bathroom, about how that looks to everyone else. He sends Jeongguk off with a gentle squeeze to the swell of his shoulder, and then Jeongguk watches through the window as he rushes back up the stone steps, probably back to the presentation. He leans his head against the glass as the city passes by, street lights and skyscrapers and nameless, faceless strangers all merging together into one stereotypical young adult novel introduction. Rain drizzles gently, fat drops rolling lazily down the windshield, and Jeongguk loses himself watching their trails. He thinks back to when he was a kid, and he would imagine the drops to be racing one another.

“Rough night?” The driver - a brunette woman with her hair cut to a short bob - asks, eyes meeting his in the rearview mirror.

“Something like that,” He mumbles, leaning forward and pressing his head against the back of the passenger seat.

“A girl?” She asks, and he grunts in disagreement. “Oh, a guy?” This is Korea, Jeongguk should not have boy troubles.

“Mhm,” She laughs quietly. “How’d you guess?”

“You look like you’ve just had your heart broken,” No, he just saw the person who broke it years ago for the first time, and he thought he’d gotten over it; but maybe he didn’t, maybe seeing Yoongi up there on the podium lit his gallery like a Christmas tree and broke it all over again. He doesn’t answer because Uber rides aren’t supposed to include personal conversation, and she turns on the radio to fill the silence.

By the time he’s left in front of the apartment he shares with Jimin, the rain has stopped, the air is muggy and thick, and the wet pavement appears to give off its own light as it reflects street lamps and headlights. It’s the type of night he could get lost in, where he could walk around for hours just thinking, but he’s exhausted, and he’s seen enough dramas to know what happens when you walk the streets and a past love happens to be in the city, so he sighs and walks up the steps, buzzing to let himself into the complex and taking the stairs up to the fourth floor, where he kicks off his loafers and collapses on the couch.

For months, everything he painted had to do with the ocean. Animals, landscapes, everything had some connection to the marine world, to Yoongi, and he hated it because somehow each piece was perfect. As a college junior, some of his pieces were being featured in actual galleries, not the mock presentations all students participated in, ones where people paid to see his work.

His best work was a landscape of the beach at night, with soft moonlight illuminating ocean swells and the beach vegetation appearing to sway gently and stars dotting the night sky - people loved it, called it surreal, hyperrealistic, a masterpiece. He’d spent weeks working on it, and apparently his dedication showed, because people told him how beautiful it was, how they could imagine themselves in the scene, and Jeongguk had to bite his tongue because no, they couldn’t. Jimin was the only one with context, and after he saw the painting for the first time, he sighed and helped cover it with a sheet and lean it carefully against the wall, where it remained until it was time for showing.

Everyone loved it, but Jeongguk hated it because Yoongi was in every fucking stroke - and though Jimin too thought it was beautiful, he hated it right along with him because that’s what friends are for. He received his highest mark on that painting, and his professor recommended it for an exhibition, and Jeongguk spent the entire night outside, a glass of champagne abandoned on the railing next to him because he couldn’t bear to go inside and see his own work with a small plaque next to it reading:

Title: Confession

Artist: JK

Medium: Watercolor

So he waited outside, nameless faces approached and complimented him, and when it was finally over and everything was being cleaned up and put away, he went in to find a small pink tag hanging off his plaque - someone had made an offer. He didn’t ask who or how much, just let employees take it away, he never wanted to see it again.

When Jimin returns nearly two hours later, Jeongguk is sitting alone at their four person dining table with an open bottle of wine and wine glass in front of him; he’s both the optimist and the pessimist: the bottle is half empty, his glass is half full. This is a Bad Moment, he’s just tipsy enough that the earlier shock of seeing Yoongi has ebbed away, and his eyes droop just barely; Jimin sighs when he sees him.

“That bad?” He asks, stepping out of his shoes and into a pair of slippers.

“Mhm,” Jeongguk hums, swirling his glass. Jimin simply shakes his head, then goes into the kitchen and retrieves a glass for himself. He sits across from Jeongguk and tips the wine into his glass, filling it halfway.

“I had no idea he’d be there,” Jimin says after a moment of contented silence - well, it’s contented on Jeongguk’s end, anyway.

“It’s fine, I don’t blame you,” He takes a sip of his wine, wincing slightly at the bitterness.

They’re drinking a cheap red tonight out of stemmed wine glasses, which isn’t right honestly, because red is supposed to be drank from stemless glasses, as it’s served room temperature. White wine is meant to be served chilled, and is drank from stemmed glasses to keep it from getting warm from being held.

“I thought you got over him,” Jimin says, and Jeongguk knows he’s been waiting until the right time to broach the subject of himself and Yoongi and what exactly happened way back then, what better time than now?

“I wanted to but, I just kinda, buried it all, you know?” He takes a long drink from his glass, draining it despite the bitterness and reaching for the bottle, to pour himself another glass. “I didn’t want to think about him, about any of that.”

“You know that’s not how you deal with things, this isn’t how you deal with things,” Jimin leans his glass forward, and Jeongguk clinks his glass against it even though there’s nothing to be toasting.

“I know, but it’s easier.”

“So, we’re back at square one, then. Do you still have a thing for him?” Jeongguk pretends he doesn’t hear the question, instead he lays his arm out across the table, resting his head on it as his other hand toys with the edge of the wine glass. “Jeongguk, we need to talk about this.”

“I hate him,” Yoongi has made it to where Jeongguk, born in Busan, can’t be near the ocean. Can’t even think about it.

“So you do.”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s go to bed,” Jimin hasn’t even touched his wine, he takes both glasses and dumps them down the sink, then shoves the cork back in the dark bottle and puts in the refrigerator. Jeongguk slides out of his seat and heads to his bedroom, where he collapses into the comforting security only his bed can provide.

Jimin comes in, sighs, and makes Jeongguk get up and undress because apparently it’s not a good idea to sleep in a button-up and slacks. He sits on the edge of Jeongguk’s bed, speaking mostly to himself.

“It’s fine that you hate him, I mean, no one can control that. But you gotta get over him, you can’t let what happened control you. I know a lot of your best art came out of it, but I mean, come on, when was the last time you went to the beach? Hell, the last time you even dated someone?”

Jeongguk hasn’t dated anyone since Yoongi, hasn’t dated anyone in six years. He can’t. He’s still stuck and maybe a little bit afraid when it comes to the topic of his romantic life, and that’s because after all these years, he still hasn’t figured himself out. Is he straight? Gay? Both? Neither? He doesn’t know, he hasn’t tried to find out. He slept with one girl when he came back, one, and the entire time he wasn’t thinking about her, but am I gay? He can’t, not completely if he made out with a guy more than once. But he’s tired, in no mood to deal with these thoughts right now, so he listens to Jimin talk speak and his eyes droop steadily. Before he’s out completely, Jimin tugs his duvet over him. He’s a good friend, Jeongguk should keep him around.

continue reading on ao3 - Empty Streets and Neon Lights by sleepy_time_tea ( https:// archive of our own .org/works/16758763 )

5 notes · View notes

jjkfire · 7 years

Text

Sweet Saccharine; pt. 2

Reader x Jungkook // sugardaddy!AU // 11k words

Summary: Trying your best to stay afloat in a ruthless city, you decide to join the sugar bowl. Who knew the sugar baby business would be this exciting?

Genre: Fluff?

Part 1 // Part 3

A/N: bro it’s been months since the first chapter and I am so sorry like lmao does anyone even remember that this fic exists??? anyway told myself to keep the fic simple but my brain was like uhhh heck no

Previously...

Oh, if only Jungkook knew what he was getting himself into, if only he knew who you really were. He would’ve avoided you like the plague, he would’ve been running for the hills, anything to get as far away as possible from you. It was in this person’s favour however that Jungkook didn’t. An evil smile graces the lips of the dark figure, dressed in all black.

So begins the takedown of Jeon Jungkook.

So begins the end of Jeon Logistics.

Now

So, what are both you and Jungkook doing in the middle of a long, empty, straight road, one would ask? The answer would be Jungkook has no fucking clue.

“Do you trust me?”

“No… not really,” Jungkook gulps as he looks over at you in the driver’s seat.

“Aw, come on,” You laugh. “Live a little why don’t you?” You turn to him to raise an eyebrow, an evil smirk on your lips.

He hears you rev up the car engine, its signature roar resounding in his ears and usually he loves the sound but right here, right now, he’s not so sure. What he knows though is that letting you take the wheel was a horrible, horrible idea.

Earlier

[02:28] You: Hey friend saw you in a magazine today [02:28] You: Image sent

Jungkook’s fingers scramble to swipe at his phone to open up the message. He breathes out a sigh of relief to see that the magazine had chosen a rather flattering photo of him standing next to Yoongi and Taehyung, his two closest friends.

The three of them grew up basically attached to each other considering that their grandfathers were best friends who had all established their own logistics company around the same time, building it from the ground up with their very own hands. Everyone thought that their friendship wouldn’t last, that eventually, friendly rivalry would turn ugly but the three old men still got together at the Jeons more than once a week for a casual game of poker.

The Min, Kim and Jeon family are often referred to as the 3 greats of the logistics industry, but they were more than just that. The comradery between the 3 families has lasted for generations now. Jungkook doesn’t even remember a day where he didn’t have Yoongi and Taehyung by his side when he was growing up and even now, they’d at least see each other once a week, be it for a casual coffee or the occasional supper. The three of them seem like an odd combination, so different from the other yet somehow, it worked. Perhaps it was the fact that they carry the same burden, the pressure of having to take over such a huge company one day or perhaps it was the other 101 things that they had experienced together that helped shape what is seen as an unusual friendship.

Jungkook stares at his screen, unsure of what his reply should be but sure of the fact that he wanted the conversation to move forward. He wasn’t quite sure where he stood with you yet but the two of you had been texting day and night since he had dropped you home that evening and maybe it was because you were a lot more comfortable over text that he found himself being drawn towards you, wanting to know more about you. Perhaps it was your crass humour or the way you sent him the weirdest memes, a sign of real friendship you had told him one day but he finds himself waiting for a text from you for a greater part of the day but your busy work schedule meant that they were few and far in between until the end of the day comes and suddenly he’s sat there texting you for hours on end, way past his usual bedtime.

Talking to you seemed real because for the most part he knew you didn’t have a hidden agenda, he didn’t have to worry about your intentions or any of the sort because the deal the two of you have has taken care of that and if this felt like a job to you, it never showed and for that, Jungkook is grateful. You speak to him as if you’ve known him for years, not boring him with stupid small talk that he hates but you dive head in, skipping the part where you awkwardly try to get to know each other, instead choosing to talk about that midnight movie you snuck into that day or even your thoughts about the government, fully uncensored of course and boy were you brutal. It’s a breath of fresh air because Jungkook doesn’t remember a conversation he’s had as of late that didn’t have to do with who was boning who or who just got a new car or mansion because frankly, Jungkook could give less of a damn about all those superficial things. He just wanted for once to have a conversation that mattered, one where he left feeling like he learnt something, a good sort of conversation that left you feeling in some way or rather, fulfilled and that he got whenever he spoke to you.

Perhaps the reason that conversations with you seemed so interesting was that you had an entirely different perspective on life, one he assumes is because all his life, all he’s known is the North, the isolated dream island of a city that is separated from the bottom half of the city and the rest of the mainland, the only connecting factor between the two pieces of land is a less than impressive bridge. Jungkook doesn’t know much about his country other than what was taught in school and he has a feeling that much of what he’s been taught has been watered down or altered because after hearing you speak about the provincial parts you had grown up in, everything he has learned doesn’t seem to make sense anymore.

All Jungkook really knew about his city, was that there was a long river that runs through it, dividing it in half, and for years now, the people from the North and the South had lived entirely different lives. The North, where Jungkook was from had the bright lights, the fancy restaurants, the good schools and hospitals. It had everything it needed to be classified as a dream city while the South on the other hand had quite the opposite. It had the crime, the poverty, the dilapidated apartments and ironically, it also had the backbone of the city’s wealth, the port.

Over the course of a week and a half, he has learned a fair bit from you about his country and to his surprise, his very own city because although he doesn’t like to think about it, the segregation is real and he has never had the chance to know about the intricacies of the part of the city his very own company depends on, until he met you of course.

[02:30] You: you know

[02:30] You: i’m a little sad because in the interview portion, you mentioned that you were happy to be there

[02:30] You: because all your friends were there

[02:30] You: but you know who wasn’t there?

[02:30] You: your most important friend

[02:30] You: aka the one you’re paying for

[02:30] You: aka

[02:30] You: me

Jungkook giggles at that, shaking his head at you. For someone who was so shy in person, you were surely pretty brazen over text.

[02:31] Jungkook: are you using your phone at work again?

[02:31] Jungkook: you’re a horrible employee

[02:31] Jungkook: how have they not fired you yet?

Rude, you mumble out loud. It was 2 am and the last customer had walked out about an hour ago. You’d be bored out of your mind if you didn’t use your phone from time to time.

[02:31] You: nobody wants to work the graveyard shift so I mean…

[02:31] You: also, hello, please don’t change the subject Mr. Popular

[02:32] You: frankly, I’m offended that I did not get a special mention

Jungkook scoffs at your text because you sure were a fickle minded person.

[02:32] Jungkook: wow

[02:32] Jungkook: okay

[02:32] Jungkook: I visited you at your workplace last week and you tried to shoo me away

[02:32] Jungkook: said you were afraid people would associate me with you

[02:32] Jungkook: and here you are wanting to be associated with me

[02:32] Jungkook: make up your mind pls

You plonk your head on the table, a slight brush creeping up your face as you remember Jungkook strolling into the convenience store you worked at after you specifically told him not to come. The look of shock on his face after you pushed him out the doors made the situation all the more worse but really, things could’ve gone wrong if he stayed.

[02:33] You: omg that was bc a bunch of paps always hang around outside the store

[02:33] You: waiting for the celebs to leave the clubs on the opposite side

[02:33] You: i clearly said paps when I shoved you out the store

[02:33] Jungkook: who cares if the paps saw us hanging out?

Who cares? Who cares?! Everyone cares. You’ve seen it all play out, seen how someone’s life goes up in flames simply by having had their picture taken with the wrong person at the wrong time.

[02:33] You: i’ve seen the magazines okay

[02:33] You: i know what it’s like when they see someone of your stature

[02:33] You: hanging out with someone like me from the south side

[02:33] You: bad press

[02:33] You: I’ll be labelled your south side hoe

[02:33] You: and then there’ll be a scandal

[02:34] You: then your company’s stocks will plunge

[02:34] You: so really, I was trying to protect you ok

Jungkook laughs at your text because god, you were so gullible. Half the content of the magazines you read were in some way scripted. Usually, the paparazzi are called beforehand by their PR Team so that pictures could be taken of them leaving the trendiest place or hanging out with the in crowd. Of course, he wanted to tell you that the paparazzi had no interest in him of all people considering that his mother had always made sure that any unapproved pictures of him would never make the stands because she’d make sure the magazine would never be able to publish again but you seemed to rather enjoy those magazines so, he didn’t want to ruin that for you.

[02:34] Jungkook: aw, you care

[02:34] Jungkook: that’s cute

[02:34] You: of course I care

[02:34] You: you’re my source of income

[02:34] Jungkook: wooooow

[02:35] You: wait, I mean

[02:35] You: of course I care

[02:35] You: you’re my friend

[02:35] Jungkook: unbelievable

[02:35] Jungkook: all you think about is money

Of course that was all you thought about. Maybe if you were as rich as Jungkook, money wouldn’t even be something that would be on your mind on the daily but you were you, struggling to even find enough cash in your pocket to pay for a sandwich.

[02:35] You: well I’ve got bills to pay my friend

[02:36] Jungkook: fair enough

[02:36] Jungkook: speaking of money

[02:36] Jungkook: when are you free?

[02:36] Jungkook: at this point I’m starting to think you’re trying to avoid me

Jungkook had asked to hang out twice so far and you had turned him down, citing work as an excuse and he’s not so sure he believes you. That’s why he decided to pay you a visit while you were working and okay maybe he felt a little bad for doubting you because he saw you at the cash register, scribbling away at the inventory log. He could see the dark circles under your eyes, the way your shoulders were slouched forward, the frown you wore and he didn’t know you too well yet but in that moment his heart ached for you.

[02:36] You: i’m not, i swear!

[02:36] You: i was called in to pick up an extra shift that day

[02:36] You: and that other day as well…

[02:36] You: But i’m free tomorrow night!

[02:37] Jungkook: nice

[02:37] Jungkook: i’ll pick you up for dinner at 7?

A free meal, you smile. Heck yeah you were in for that. If it weren’t for the fact that you had to pick up two extra shifts, you would’ve already had 2 free meals, good ones at that.

[02:37] You: in your Lamborghini?

[02:37] You: you know i only agreed to this deal bc i dream of sitting in your lambo one day

[02:37] Jungkook: nah

[02:37] Jungkook: you were so flustered the day i met you

[02:37] Jungkook: i know you said yes bc you’re secretly in love with me

Jungkook laughs as he remembers the way you had rose to your feet the instant his chair turned around, how you had dropped all your belongings onto the floor and you were scrambling to stuff everything into your purse so you could run. Adorable, he laughs. He loved seeing you flustered and he knows if he had said what he had texted to you in person, you’d be a sputtering mess.

[02:38] You: nice try

[02:38] You: but

[02:38] You: FALSE

[02:38] Jungkook: hmm

[02:38] Jungkook: i clearly recall you saying something along the lines of i love Jeon...

You didn’t say that out loud did you… You’d rather die than live knowing that Jungkook knows you’ve had a crush on him ever since you saw his picture in the newspaper when you were 17. He mustn’t know.

[02:38] You: what?

[02:38] You: i never said that?

[02:38] You: but I mean

[02:38] You: i probably said I love your grandpa maybe

[02:38] Jungkook: so you’re into old people?

[02:38] Jungkook: like a reverse pedophile???

[02:39] Jungkook: a gerontophile…

How does he even know that term? God, you meant you admired him. For a second, you’re not sure what to type back and you wonder if this is why Jungkook has to pay you to be his friend because if he’s like this with everyone, you can imagine why he didn’t have anyone to hang out with.

[02:39] You: wth

[02:39] You: i didn’t mean it like that…

[02:39] You: you’re so…

[02:39] You: wtv

[02:39] You: anyway okay see you at 7 tomorrow

[02:39] You: in your lambo

[02:39] You: bye

[02:39] Jungkook: wow I have to pay you to hang out with me

[02:39] Jungkook: and you still make demands???

[02:39] You: what can I say

[02:39] You: i’m a difficult woman

[02:39] You: also a customer just walked in so gtg bye!

Jungkook sets his phone aside, shaking his head as he laughs, a common sight whenever he texted you. Truth be told, talking to you has become something he’s become quite fond of, perhaps even one of the best parts of his day.

Jungkook picks you up from work like he promised, parking his car two blocks away like you asked because apparently you didn’t exactly need to be seen getting into a car you’d never be able to afford. Actually, he didn’t even pick you up because you had told him to wait in his car and that you would find him but he bargains with you and you relent, letting him wait for you a block away from the convenience store you worked at.

From the moment you see him, you’re already giddy, for him, he wishes but he knows you’re only this happy because in a few minutes, you’ll see your dream car right in front of you. He watches as you sprint towards it when it comes into your view, the car in all its matte black beauty, elegant and poised. Before he can tell you that the car doors open upwards, you’re already diligently sitting in the passenger seat, waiting for him which surprises him because the best part about watching people get into his car was to see them struggle with the door. He’s impressed obviously that you seem to know more about luxury cars than you had initially let on but when he gets in the car, he sees you admire the interior, fingers softly ghosting the plush leather interior, a sign that this was a rare occurrence for you.

He expects the car ride to be awkward seeing as to how you’ve always had trouble with small talk but you bombard him with question after question about the car he’s driving and he doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone so interested in this car and everyone before you who had sat in this car couldn’t even pronounce the car model’s name right but here you are asking about the CC of the engine, if he liked the automatic double clutch system and the car’s top speed. In fact, if anything, Jungkook feels embarrassed because he couldn’t answer most of your questions because all he knows was that it looked good in the show room and that alone was a good enough reason for him to buy it.

“How much do you have to pay monthly?”

“Monthly?” Jungkook quirks his eyebrows. What do you mean by monthly?

“Yeah, you know… for the loan?”

Cute. You thought he had a car loan.

“Shit, you paid for it in cash?” You gasp, finally realizing why he didn’t understand your question.

He only nods his head, laughing at the expression on your face.

“Damn, what a concept,” You exhale, wishing that you could do that too, walk into a showroom and pay for a car in full right there and then. Well actually, you wish you even had a car to begin with. Amazing, you sigh to yourself. You knew the rich kids had it good but you didn’t know they had it this good.

“So, what’s for dinner?” You question as your stomach growls, the sandwich you had for lunch already long digested. “How many Michelin stars does the restaurant have?” You grin, already conjuring up an image of what dinner was going to be like.

“You’ll see,” He smirks and the smile on your face is unmatchable, pure joy radiating from you as you picture your soon to be meal.

The two of you stand in a modest store and you frown when you don’t see any chairs, no fancy tablecloth or anything of the like for La Table, is the name of the place and zero is the amount of stars the place has because it wasn’t even a damn restaurant.

“Alright everybody, put on your aprons!” Calls the woman from the front of the room.

“Are you serious Jungkook?” You groan, the emptiness in your belly becoming unbearable. “We’re here for a cooking class? This is our dinner?”

“I thought it’d be fun,” He shrugs and the glare you give him makes him laugh.

“So welcome everybody to tonight’s advanced class! Tonight’s segment is called Date Night: Passport to Paris!” The chef smiles and you look over at Jungkook in shock only to find he has the same look on his face.

“Advanced? Wait, isn’t today just the umm… Essential Skills for Beginner Cooks?” Jungkook asks one of the assistant chefs making her rounds, his voice full of panic.

“That’s next week honey,” She smiles before sauntering away, going to check up on the equipment on the other benches and Jungkook’s heart drops.

“I mean Jungkook, if you wanted to change this arrangement from platonic to romantic, you could’ve just told me,” You tease. “I don’t need some big gesture date night cooking class.”

“No that’s not— I didn’t—”

“Calm down,” You laugh. “I’m just teasing.”

“No, Y/N, you don’t understand,” He frowns. “I can’t cook. Like I’ve never tried… before and now we’re going to— What if I mess up?”

He genuinely looks so worried, so afraid that you can’t help but laugh.

“Chill, Jungkook. If we mess up, then we mess up,” You shrug. “I’m not great at cooking either but I’m sure we’ll figure it out. If you burn the dish though, we’re going for supper.”

“I mean whenever you’re involved, isn’t supper a given?” He laughs because whenever he texted you late at night, even on days you weren’t working, you always seemed to be having supper. A new habit of yours thanks to the deal you had struck up with Jungkook because now, you could afford two meals a day, that being lunch and supper.

“That’s true…” You murmur. “Are you trying to say that I eat too much, punk?” You frown, throwing playful punches at him to which he dodges with a laugh.

The class begins as everyone shuffles in, taking their respective places at their benches. Everyone else in this class were obviously couples because duh, it’s date night and truth be told, Jungkook envies them, envies the way they stared at each other like their significant other were their entire world and he often wonders when he’ll find that, if he’ll ever find that. It’s an odd thought to have but his mother has always had a tight grip on all aspects of his life and sure he has had a few flings here and there but word travels fast in the upper echelons and the moment one of the women says I heard your son’s been seeing (insert name here), it would be game over for him. You have to focus on the company, she would say. Women are only distractions, she would remind him and Jungkook would sigh, knowing what he would have to do the very next day.

All his life he’s felt restricted, the only friends he had were ones she approves of and he really couldn’t care for the most of them, the only actual company he enjoyed was that of Min Yoongi and Kim Taehyung. Though the 3 of them were best friends, they were entirely different people, none of them ever interested enough to do the things Jungkook wanted to. Technically, he never asked them because in truth, he was shy to and he didn’t really have to ask them anyway because he knew Yoongi would much rather be at home during his free time and Taehyung would much rather be out and about, attending parties, drinking expensive wine.

Jungkook doesn’t like to admit it but with his new found freedom, he’s come to realize just how lonely he was, not that he had a problem with being alone but… he’d much rather have company with him whenever he wanted to go on one of his odd little adventures. He really had tried everything, searched high and low in his inner circle of friends, he had even put up a Craigslist ad to find friends but the only responses he got creeped him out so, when he saw that sugarbaby conference ad in the newspaper, gears started turning in his head and when he saw pouty you hanging out at the back of the room, ploughing through glasses of champagne, his interest was piqued. Just by how you spoke, Jungkook could pick up on the fact that you weren’t from the North side and perhaps he was drawn in by that, by how he was told his entire life that those from the South weren’t worth his time and yet he felt like you were the only person in the room he had clicked with that night.

Jungkook’s mind drifts in and out of the class, not really daring to do much despite you giving him plenty of chances to try doing something other than washing the vegetables but he insists he was fine with doing just that.

“Come on,” You laugh. “All you have to do is push the bacon strips around the pan!”

Jungkook only shakes his head vehemently and you let out a snort.

“Typical, rich men,” You shake your head. “Always wanting all us Southies to do all your work for you,” You snort, teasing him.

“That’s not what I—” He sighs, choosing not to complete his sentence. “I just don’t want to mess anything up,” He frowns and you can tell that for some reason or the other he feels genuinely afraid to even actually attempt to cook.

“Jungkook you’re going to have to at least try,” You offer an encouraging smile, handing the spatula to him.

“Next dish,” He murmurs, shaking his head and you nod at that, smiling at him.

Jungkook doesn’t know how to explain to you that he had an inexplicable fear of failure and of trying new things. The very fact he’s here with you, trying something new is in itself, a miracle. Ever since Jungkook could remember, his mother had quite a temper on her and if there was one thing she hated more than anything, it was when Jungkook had failed at something. If Jungkook really thinks about it, he’d grown up fearing his mother more than loving her and it’s sad of course but even at the ripe old age of 23, Jungkook still feared her. She never hit him, no, but she never had to because her words hurt him more than anything, her words had the power to break him. That being said, he still loves her, he does. After all, she had single handedly raised him and he’s more than grateful to her. He assumes the way she tries to control everything, to keep everything in order is her way of coping with the loss of her husband or at least that’s what Jungkook thinks. He wonders from time to time what his life would be like if his father was still around, if Jungkook and his mother would be a lot happier instead of how they both feel a giant gaping hole in the middle of their chests that never seemed to heal, not even with time.

Everyone looking from the outside in sees Jungkook as the young boy groomed to perfection and genuinely, that’s what it is. Every single decision in his life up until recently has been made by his mother and unluckily for him, fun and rest, were not part of her vocabulary. From the get go, it was extra tutoring to piano classes to ballet classes to swimming classes and then topped off with even more tutoring. To say he had a fun childhood would be a great big fat lie because he remembers being wildly unhappy but not having any power to do anything about it. He always told himself to hold on, to tough it out because maybe when he’s older, he’d be able to have the life that he’s always wanted

Yet, in everyone else’s eyes, his life just as it is now is what everyone wanted. The nice cars, the fancy clothes and the big family mansion is everyone’s dream life but Jungkook honestly feels like all of it is a sham because that isn’t who he is, in fact far from it. Because Jungkook hates the piano, hates ballet, hates swimming, hates all things his mother had coerced him into doing but among the elites that’s what he is known for, his exceptional piano skills, his gracefulness as a dancer and his medals that he collected over the years at all those swim meets. Perfect, perfect, perfect, that’s what he is. The picture of success, happiness and elegance, that’s what he had to be but sometimes it all got a little too much for him to keep up with.

For most of his life, he felt like he was playing a role, that he was his mother’s puppet but not too long ago, he took a stand, moving out of the family mansion in favour of a comfortable apartment. His mother had picked it out obviously, it was the only way she had let him leave. He told her it was to show the world that he was independent, that he’d be seen as a more reliable soon to be CEO of Jeon Logistics and to his surprise, she agrees. It was a sudden realization that dawned on him, like a mid-life crisis or probably quarter-life crisis in his case that he had actually never done anything for himself his entire life but rather lived most of it trying to please his mum. So, his rebellion started out small initially with him moving out of the Jeon estate and gradually, it moved on to things like eating at Mcdonald’s regularly, something his mother had never let him do because she was convinced it was bad for him. But he didn’t stop there, the small form of disobediences giving him enough confidence to continue so, it casually turned into hitting all the clubs with Taehyung, which his mother was furious about but at this point , Jungkook could care less. Then finally, came you, the biggest defiance of all. If his mother found out he was hanging out with someone like you… Jungkook shudders at what his mother would do, wishing not to think about it.

You are quite probably her worst nightmare because you’re from the south side which by default meant that you were of a lower socio-economic status and essentially to put it in simple terms, you would never belong or come close to where the Jeons stood and if there was one thing she hated more than Jungkook's failures, it was when he mixed with people outside of his class. He had learned that at a very young age when he tried to befriend the help around the house, a lesson he has yet to forget. Yet, here he was with you, and quite honestly, he’s regretting it now because you’re forcing him to chop up green beans and frankly he’s never held a kitchen knife before.

“Oh god, Jungkook, no!” You yelp as you watch him haphazardly chop the vegetables. “You’re gonna cut one of your fingers if you do that.”

“I, uhh…” He mumbles, his voice small and shrunken because just like always, he couldn’t even do the small things right, he sighs. There’s a large frown on his face and it makes you feel horrible for reprimanding him like that. You step closer to him, a light laugh escaping you as he steps away, letting you take over but you pull him back to his spot. “No, no, you’re not going to make me cook and do prep too,” You laugh.

“Relax your hand. Tuck your fingers slightly inwards and place it here,” You instruct, taking a hold of his wrist, placing it a quarter length away from the tips of the beans. “And the knife,” You try to reach around him for his other hand until you realize that your arms were simply too short so, he laughs taking a small step back from the counter to make space for you. You stand snugly between him and the counter and he’s not sure this is the best way to teach him how to prep the vegetables but he keeps his lips tightly sealed. This was oddly getting a tad bit too domestic for Jungkook but what’s worse is that he feels he rather enjoys having you this close to him when he really shouldn’t because after all, you’re supposed to be just his friend as in platonic, with a capital P so he tries his best to shove aside whatever feelings that seem to be stirring deep down in the pits of his heart. “And don’t hack at them, just slowly slice through them like this,” You continue, hand on top of his, gently guiding it, the gesture making it difficult to concentrate on what you were saying.

“R-right, thanks,” He murmurs, as you turn around to smile at him before ducking under his arms to step away and Jungkook can feel a tingling sensation in his chest when your soft hands leave his. Did his heart just skip a beat? Probably… but it shouldn’t have though. This was all only happening because he’s still feeling rather flustered from his vegetable chopping mishap, he reasons. He’s usually much, much better with girls but he doesn’t know what it is with you that has him feeling so out of his element.

Jungkook feels slightly accomplished when he had chopped all the vegetables on his own and also with your help, cooked the chicken breast in the tarragon sauce. Like with the vegetables, you guide him through the whole cooking process slowly, your hands over his trembling ones as you make sure he stirs the sauce thoroughly and maybe this time he purposely asks for your help just so you would stand close to him again. But, every time he makes a small mistake, he feels like shrinking away, like when you had asked him to put in some pepper and he had obviously put in too much but instead of screaming at him, you only laugh saying that if anything, you could dilute the sauce if need be. There’s a sigh of relief that escapes him because unlike all his other teachers, you’re patient and Jungkook finds a sense of comfort in your presence. For the first time, he feels like he’s with someone that didn’t expect him to be perfect.

When it comes to the final dish of the night, the dessert, Jungkook has grown confident, perhaps a little too confident because he says he thinks he can make it better than you.

“Challenge accepted, Jeon,” You grin.

Though Jungkook doesn’t get very far before he’s asking for your help and you abandon yours in favour of helping him. You can’t help but think that he looks like a lost little puppy the whole time and maybe it makes your heart twitch a little when you see him pout. It surprises you obviously, the fact that he seemed quite timid because he was always painted as a confident, charming man in the magazines, but you’ve only seen him as a quiet, shy boy all night tonight. When you finally take the dessert out of the oven, Jungkook smiles so widely that you almost feel like reaching over to pat him on the head endearingly.

“So with all of that done,” The chef announces. “It’s time for you to plate your dishes.”

Both you and Jungkook can’t seem to come to a consensus when it comes to plating because the two of you have totally different ideas on what looks good and somewhere along the line it turns into a competition. If anyone looked around the room, they’d see cute couples working together, quietly drizzling sauce on their plates and then one look at the last bench and they’d see you and Jungkook throwing insults at each other over your respective artistic choices, screaming and laughing at each other as a raw vegetable goes whizzing over either of your heads. Young love, the other couples sigh. It was always so refreshing to see couples that were just starting out. Ah, but little did they know…

“Your hands are shaking.”

“Shut up, Jungkook,” You snip at him, trying to stop your hand from trembling as you attempt to smear the sauce artistically like you had seen on the cooking channel that one time.

“Am I making you nervous?” He smirks, standing so close to you that you could practically feel the heat radiating off him.

“No…” You mumble. “Just stop staring at me!” You grumble and Jungkook laughs, closing the distance between the both of you until you could feel his breath fan across the back of your neck, an involuntary shiver running up your spine.

“I know it’s hard to concentrate when the man you’re secretly in love with is standing this close to you but relax, Y/N, it is date night after all,” He grins smugly and you can feel a blush creep up onto your cheeks but no, your dignity as a chef is on the line so, your response is an elbow to his abdomen. Jungkook backs away laughing as you mumble under your breath, sauce all over your plate now thanks to him.

As per Jungkook’s request the chef comes around to look at the dishes to pick a winner among the both of you and in your mind, you know you’re going to win hands down because your plate looked 10 times better, in your opinion.

“Im going to have to go with, Jungkook,” The chef smiles, a dreamy sigh escaping her lips. “It’s simple, clean and looks great!”

“What the f—” You bite your tongue, cutting your sentence short. “Of course it looks clean, there’s barely anything on his plate!”

“It’s not about quantity, it’s about quality and I’m a fan of minimalism.”

“Quality, my a—” Once again, you purse your lips, swallowing the rest of your sentence. “The chicken on his plate is smaller than the size of a baby’s fist! How are you even supp—”

“Alright, thank you so much for helping us decide,” Jungkook cuts in when the chef looks remarkably horrified at your small outburst and you grumble as he pulls you away from her.

“She’s biased,” You pout. “I demand a rematch.”

“No, no,” Jungkook argues. “I won that fair and square.”

“Oh come on, she was shooting heart eyes at you from the front of the room the whole time,” You groan. “Of course, she was going to pick you.”

Had she? Jungkook hadn’t noticed. In fact, he hadn’t noticed anyone aside from you the whole session.

“You’re just a sore loser.”

“Am not. I want a rematch, punk,” You jab his chest with your finger.

“No can do, babe,” He smiles, before turning to dig into the salad that you had singlehandedly made and you pout, sinking your fork into the vegetables as you mutter to yourself.

You eat your meal with a perpetual frown on your face and Jungkook finds it absolutely adorable how you’re so upset over something so menial. He tries to make conversation, but you purposely ignore him, feasting on the extra bacon strips that you had fried over the course of the session. God, you’re so cute whenever you pout and he wonders if that fluttering feeling in his chest had to do with you or perhaps he had an underlying heart condition that he needed to get checked because it’s been happening a lot as of late. Much to Jungkook’s dismay, nothing he says seems to catch your attention and he’s stuck in a one-sided conversation with himself until he mentions supper and suddenly, your frown fades, replaced with a bright smile instead.

You insist on saving all the leftovers even when Jungkook tells you that you shouldn’t because it tastes mediocre at best and you only sigh, shaking your head at him because he didn’t understand that you’ve been having sandwiches for lunch for a straight month now and you’ll take anything you can get at this point. So, he relents, watching you stroll down the street with a massive paper bag in hand and the widest smile on your face.

“What’s that?” You question, stopping in your tracks to point at a store, baffled by the queue that went around the block considering that it was nearing 10 pm.

“That’s Glazed, you know… the donut shop?”

“Ah,” You smile. “I’ve seen it online. Best donuts in the city or something,” You scoff, as if it was untrue and Jungkook feels mildly offended because he loves their donuts.

“They are the best,” He defends and you can see the way his eyebrows are furrowed, as if you had personally attacked him.

“Nah, the south side does it better.”

“Have you tried them?”

“No…”

“Then how do you know it isn’t the best?”

“I just know,” You shrug and Jungkook looks at you in disbelief, his features coloured with a tinge of annoyance before he’s storming off into the store, completely ignoring the long line.

In a matter of minutes, he returns with warm donuts in hand and you have to admit that they smelled heavenly, yet you feign disinterest, only taking a bite when he prompts you to. He watches your face closely to judge your reaction but you keep a blank face, not wanting him to know that okay, they tasted good, better than you had imagined.

“Mehh, the south side does it better,” You shrug, taking another bite of the donut.

“Of course they do,” He rolls his eyes.

“Seriously, they do and it’s a whole lot cheaper too,” Your words muffled as you attempt to speak without choking on the donut piece you just swallowed.

“Says the person who’s almost finished the donut now,” He laughs and you look away sheepishly, licking at the sugar on your lips.

“Look, donuts are donuts and I don’t discriminate,” You smile, reaching into the bag for another one.

By the time the both of you reach the car, the bag of donuts have disappeared and if Jungkook remembers correctly… there were 4 of them in there and he hadn’t had any of them. He doesn’t say anything though, only watching as you admire his car again, running your finger around the exterior of the car.

“You want to drive it, don’t you?” He questions.

“N-no, Maybe… Yes...”

“Here,” He tosses you the keys and you lunge forward to catch them.

“A-are you sure?”

“Why? Will I regret it?”

“I don’t know… will you?” You smirk, a single eyebrow lifted as you slide into the driver’s seat.

The answer is yes, yes he will regret it because you’re driving at a speed he didn’t even know his car could go at and he feels like tonight might just be his last night on this Earth and he squeezes his eyes shut, clinging onto whatever his hands could find purchase on. The car ride in all honesty had started out fine, the car cruising at a leisurely speed until you crossed the bridge over to the south and you found a stretch of road, dimly lit by the streetlights and you stopped the car to ask him an innocent question. Do you trust me?, he remembers you asking and the rest was a haze to him because it all went wrong from there on.

“Lighten up,” You laugh. “What’s the point of having a beast like this if you don’t drive it at top speed?”

The point was, Jungkook explains, that the car looked flashy and that when he drove, he would at least leave the car knowing he would have all his limbs still intact. You laugh at that, shaking your head. The people from the north side of the city were always so timid, so afraid. Without warning, you slam down on the accelerator pedal harder and Jungkook doesn’t want to scream but he can’t help it not when you’re driving at this speed. You take a hard right into an empty parking lot and he can actually hear the tires of his car skid across the asphalt, his heart stuttering along with it.

“Are you ready?” You ask but he has a feeling you’re not looking for an answer because before he knows it, he’s sitting there watching as the car speeds off before everything goes blurry and he clutches onto anything he can grab on as the car spins around in tight controlled circles.

“Let loose! Just enjoy it,” You shout and Jungkook opens his eyes to look at you, the biggest grin he had ever seen on your face and he relaxes the grip he has on the seat. Maybe it was the fact that he was doing something so rebellious that has his heart pumping but soon his fear dissipates, replaced with pure unadulterated joy instead. He realizes now why he enjoys his time with you so much, be it in person or over text. It was the fact that you didn’t try as hard as everyone to try and impress him or put on a show but that you were just unapologetically you, doing what you wanted, saying whatever you wanted without regarding the fact that he was Jeon Jungkook because when he was with you, he felt like he was just him, just Jungkook, without the family name tied to him, without the expectations of what he’s supposed to be hanging above his head.

The two of you sit there, laughing as the car finally comes to a halt and Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it but he had enjoyed that more than he should, considering that what the both of you just did was technically illegal.

“Where’d you learn how to drive like that with a car like this?” It’s a genuine question because as far as he knows the intricate gear-changing systems are only found in cars that quite frankly, you couldn’t afford but you had worked his Lambo like a pro.

“When I first moved into this neighbourhood, I may have hung out with the wrong people,” You laugh. “Long story short, I’ve driven a few expensive cars. Stolen, of course.”

“Like you hot-wired them?”

“Does it look like I could walk into a neighbourhood here and hot-wire a Ferrari?”

“Well…”

“We either bribed the custom guards or straight up stole them from the port,” You mumble, referring to the port on the south side of the city. “Well, I didn’t. I never got that far into it. I just got to take the occasional drive.”

“You were one of them,” He gasps. “I think it was a year or two ago but Grandpa never got the Ferrari he imported in.”

“The Ferrari 458 Speciale, was it? I remember that one,” You laugh, the cherry red car still fresh in your memory despite the time that has passed. “Don’t tell him it was me…” You smirk and Jungkook can only laugh at that.

“Where is it now?”

“Somewhere in some gang leader’s estate in the provinces maybe,” You shrug, the details are a little fuzzy to you because you had tried your best to be aloof whenever the plans of where the cars were going was discussed.

“Do you still do it?” Jungkook asks and you can hear the apprehension in his voice, not wanting to sound like he was judging you but he totally was.

“No, not anymore.”

“What made you quit?”

“I just realized that I had come to this city so I could find a better life, not get sucked into all of that,” You exhale, as if you had almost wanted to say that you didn’t want to get sucked into all of that again but you had opted to leave that last word out but he doesn’t know why. Jungkook can tell that there’s something more that you weren’t telling him and he wishes to ask you a myriad of questions like what your past was like? What exactly it was that you were running from, but he knows it’s not his place to ask and he guesses you can sense that he had these questions burning in the back of his mind because you’re speaking before he can ask you anything.

“You ready for some donuts?” You question and he nods. “Well, you’re driving… and you gotta drive fast,” You smirk, getting out to exchange seats with him and Jungkook gulps in fear as he makes himself comfortable in the driver’s seat.

“Okay, Jungkook,” You begin, as the car sat in the middle of the empty road, like it has for the past 5 minutes. “You just have to slam the accelerator pedal. Don’t think, just do.”

“But…”

“If you’re worried about the cops… don’t be,” You laugh. “They have far more to worry about than two delinquents speeding down an empty road.”

Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh, unsure as to why he was letting you talk him into this. You were supposed to be someone who was to follow him along on the stupid, mundane things he wanted to do, not get him into trouble. Jungkook looks over at you and you only quirk an eyebrow at him, challenging him. God, his mother would kill him if he picked up a citation for reckless driving and yet, here he was, his foot flooring the pedal, his car going twice, maybe thrice the normal speed he drove at.

The car jerks forward, his body pressed to the seat and Jungkook feels the excitement, the adrenaline rushing through his veins and you were right, it was a lot more fun being in the driver’s seat. By the time he reaches the end of the road, Jungkook makes a U-turn, begging you to let him do it all over again and you laugh at how he asks for your permission because after all he was the boss and this was his car. So he takes off more confidently this time, driving at twice the speed limit, whizzing down the street and in and out of tight roads until he reaches the donut store you had guided him to, the dilapidated store with its broken neon sign buzzed above it. Shame, he was genuinely pretty excited but looking at it now, it seemed like it held little promise.

Jungkook waits with his car parked further down the street like you had asked and just as he steps out of the car, you’re bounding over with a large brown paper bag. You continue walking, beckoning him with a finger and he hesitates, not wishing to leave his car in the open like that… especially not if the same car-stealing gang you were once a part of are roaming the streets.

“Don’t worry,” You laugh. “Your car’s not going anywhere.”

“How do you know that?”

“Just trust me,” You smile and he lets out a sigh, reluctantly joining your side as you pass him a donut.

The two of you take a seat at the bench that looks out upon the water, the calming sound of the soft waves lapping up against the bank echoing in your ears. The bright city lights twinkle before you as you take in the view of the North, a spectacle you never got tired of seeing and you let out a light laugh as you watch Jungkook marvel at the scenery, his eyes wide open and filled with wonder. He stands up to wander around, whipping out his phone to take a few too many pictures, as if he feels like he would never see any of this again.

“What’s all the flowers over there for?” Jungkook questions as he takes a seat on the bench again, pointing at the corner a good distance away from the pair of you.

“It’s in remembrance of those who were lost in the fires a few years back.”

“Fire…?” Jungkook furrows his eyebrows in confusion, unable to recall anything about a fire in this city but he remembers seeing smoke fill the air a while back, but not bothering to figure out what was happening as long as it was south of the bridge.

“Yeah, it was maybe 2 years back,” You recall. “A huge fire started by a leaky gas line running through one of the apartments a few blocks back.”

“I-I’ve never heard of this.”

“Yeah, the mayor swept it all under the rug because the residents had been complaining about the leak for days before the fire happened,” You sigh. “That’s the worst part you know? That it was entirely preventable.”

“How many people…” His voice trailing off in the end, unsure if he wanted to know how many had perished.

“Hundreds,” You mumble. “No one knows for sure,” You shrug and Jungkook can only let out a deep exhale, one filled with sadness.

“It’s funny how we do so much for this city but we’re treated like second class citizens,” You laugh. “They said that all that separates us is a bridge, that we wouldn’t need emergency services on this side if we were only a bridge away,” You smile sarcastically. “But they watched our buildings burn from across the river, sitting on stacks of money that we helped them make.”

Jungkook sits in his seat, guilt bubbling within him because he didn’t know and possibly everyone across that very bridge didn’t know that this was the reality of those who lived just a drive away from them. Perhaps it was the propaganda that was thrown at him at school but from what little he has seen of this side of town, it wasn’t half as bad as what he has been told. Before meeting you, he had only gone to the port and back and he won’t lie, he had many a times seen the occasional broken window, the walls filled with graffiti and the shady men hanging out on the street corners. Everything seemed to be in line with the image that was painted of this side of the city but seeing what you’ve shown him, the vibrant community of late-night food stalls, the cute little mom and pop bakeries, to this lookout point, perhaps it was true that the government was trying to hide something by convincing everyone else that the South held no promise.

“They criticize the gangs that roam the streets here but you know who the first to respond on the scene were? The gangs,” You exhale, tucking the brown paper bag that held the donuts, by your side. “It didn’t matter whose territory it was or who had beef with who. Those men risked their lives, running into burning buildings to save those who were trapped inside, which is more than I can say about the cowards in those glass buildings that constantly tell us we’re not worth a damn thought.”

He’s never seen you so emotional before, your face stern, your voice filled with so much resent that he could almost feel it cutting him, though he hopes he isn’t a target of your resentment towards the rich.

“I’m sorry, I got a little carried away,” You frown. “It’s just… I know what people like you think of us, how you’re so afraid of us but there’s so much you don’t know about that goes on here. I would go so far to say you’re probably one of the very first North person to even venture this far into the South,” You laugh, digging into the bag for a donut.

“Probably,” Jungkook laughs in return. “And, you’re right, but in my defense, it’s only because of what I’ve heard about the South... about the gangs and the violence,” He mumbles. “And the fact that they always attack our shipments,” He whispers the last part, not wanting to downplay the atrocities that the government and by extension the North has committed against your side of the city but maybe that was why Jungkook has come to fear and to some degree hate the South so much.

“The gangs,” You scoff. “My question to you though is who essentially created the gangs? Who created the circumstances that forces us to feel like the only protection that we can get is if we have armed men running around protecting certain parts of our city, our country? That the main requirement of a regular 9 to 5 job, of getting into a university is not merit, no, it’s your postcode.”

Jungkook wishes to argue and to say no, that it was because the Southerners enjoyed the rough-housing, the illegal activities, that they enjoyed living off of his taxes, for that’s what he’s been told over and over but maybe hearing your reality, hearing you speak makes him think twice about the bubble he’s been living in.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” He frowns. “The South has always been like a mystery to me and I guess, it’s not really my place to say anything or judge the way you live.”

“Jungkook,” You smile, shaking your head. “Do you think any of us here want to live like this?”

It’s a rhetorical question of course but he finds himself answering anyway, shaking his head solemnly.

“I know you think this is bad, but you haven’t seen what it’s like outside of the city, in the smaller provinces on the mainland where I grew up,” You sigh thinking back to your childhood. “Ask your grandfather, he would know. He briefly lived in one of the worst provinces in this country.”

It’s a subject his grandfather never enjoys talking about. His childhood almost a complete mystery to Jungkook as he’s learned not to bring it up, watching his grandfather’s face turn sour every time he had questioned him about it. The south, the provinces, the gangs were all hush hush topics, never to be mentioned around the house and Jungkook has a vague idea that they’re all tied together, that his grandfather had some experiences he wishes he could forget. We should do something about the gangs, a member of the board had brought up during a meeting, referring to how their shipments were being ambushed every time it left the port or was bound for the port because what was a logistics company if they could never deliver the goods? Jungkook remembers the way his grandfather had glared at the man, his cold piercing stare making even Jungkook shiver even though it wasn’t directed at him.

If you know what’s good for you, you’d leave them alone.

His voice a clear, loud warning to any who had conjured up ideas of how to curb gang activity. The meeting continued on, the final decision being that decoys would be sent out and the actual packages were going to be transported to and from the port through smaller unassuming vehicles. All of this made no sense to Jungkook because it incurred extra expenses towards the company and made them less efficient at delivering on time when it could have been easier to strike a deal with the gangs or simply just clean them out, both solutions that were much cheaper and convenient but who was he to say anything… He was still learning the ropes.

“Maybe someday,” He murmurs. A certain doubt stirs within Jungkook because to his knowledge, his grandfather has never made public where exactly it is that he had grown up.

You take the short silence as a chance to start a new topic, steering the conversation towards something lighter, like that new Marvel movie that’s slated for release later in the week, letting Jungkook do all the talking for a change for you were still trying to get yourself to calm down. It was hard for you to keep your emotions in check whenever you spoke about the South, about the gangs and about the government, especially when you were speaking to someone who comes from a privileged background. You know like most of the North, Jungkook saw nothing wrong with the state of affairs of the country, completely blind to the injustice but you guess that’s only because he saw no reason to be aware or he’s been brainwashed to think that there really was no injustice in the first place. After all, Jeon Logistics is one of the biggest supporters of the current government’s campaign, the only thing about the company that you absolutely hated and it baffles you as to why his grandfather would do that, would align himself to such evil men when he’s seen how bad it is in the provinces, having grown up in the mainland like yourself. Perhaps it’s for survival, you reason, that maybe if you were in his position, you would do the same. It’s a dog eat dog world after all and it was the cronies at the top in the North that have the upper hand so why would anyone align themselves to the losing side?

As the minutes pass and the conversation flows effortlessly from one topic to another, your anger dissipates as you laugh the night away with Jungkook. He tells you stories about his childhood, ones that leave you wishing that you had something close to what he had. He tells you stories of his first day on the job at Jeon Logistics, how he had been so nervous at the board meeting that he left 3 times to go to the toilet to pee. He tells you about the one time he had a disaster of a date, throwing up all over his date after having had one too many drinks and you laugh, telling him to remind you to at least keep him at an arm’s length distance if the two of you ever went to a bar. His stories make him feel real, approachable and it’s a dream to you that you’re getting paid to be his friend. Little did he know, that you would gladly do this for free, after all who wouldn;t want to be his friend? He doesn’t know but like him, you don’t have too many friends, because well you only have one... two, counting Jungkook... maybe three if you could count the chef at the noodle store you frequented. Though his tales are warm and friendly you can’t help but notice that there’s a huge chunk that’s missing in his stories and that’s obviously his family but you don’t ask because honestly, you don’t want him to ask about yours. It would make all of this far too complicated, you sigh, your thumb rubbing at your inner forearm, a tick Jungkook has seemed to taken notice of and you quickly busy yourself with the donut bag, nervous that he’ll ask.

You don’t remember the last time you’ve lost track of time while talking to someone, the only other person capable of keeping you occupied for that long is Wendy, your best friend whom you’ve been meaning to call up for days now because she keeps giving potential sugar daddies your number, which isn’t entirely her fault since you had given her the green light to do that when you last saw her at supper after the sugarbaby conference. You thought about how you were going to have to tell her you’ve managed to land one on your own, a platonic one at that and that your sugar daddy was none other than Jeon Jungkook but alas, the last part has to remain confidential as the contract between you and him had requested for you to keep it so. It ate you up inside, having to keep a secret this large from her and maybe that’s why you’ve been dilly-dallying, telling yourself to call her tomorrow except tomorrow never seems to come. You know with a few prods, you’d probably break, the secret spilling out of you because who else would understand better than her that one of the most eligible bachelor’s in the country was paying you to be his goddamn friend and the best part was that you’ve been dreaming of meeting him since forever.

Meeting Jungkook is a lot less magical than you had imagined it to be and there are no sparks or hearts flying around but you can’t deny that his presence stirs something within you, a feeling you want to deny because technically, he’s your boss and also, why put yourself in a position where you’ll end up crushed because in a year and a half when the contract ends, you don’t want to be hopelessly in love with him while he walks away, in search of a girl that could match his stature, one that he would probably end up settling down with. You’re thinking far too ahead into the future but maybe that’s the only image that can stop you from letting his passing flirty remarks affect you, from blushing when his gaze lingers a little too long because sure he can toy with you and you can do the same with him but you always have to remember that there’s an invisible wall between to two of you, one you would never be able to break and maybe in the end, you’re only attracted to the idea of him and not Jungkook himself but after getting to know him a little bit better now, that reasoning seems to be falling through the cracks. He would always gaze at you warmly when you spoke and for some reason it felt like he was tuning the world out just to hear you speak, something you’ve barely been able to experience, ever, considering that half the Northern guys you’ve met look at you like you’re stupid or not worth their time and if they were interested, it was only because they wanted to get into your pants. But, you remind yourself that you aren’t here for love or anything of the sort because after all, the end game of all of this was the money wasn’t it and not anything else?

Those are thoughts you push aside in favour of enjoying the rest of the night, telling Jungkook a little too many hours after that you actually have to be up early tomorrow for work but that’s a lie because at this point there was no point in sleeping for you’d be starting your new job at the port in approximately 3 hours now. The pair of you eventually leave the bench to move towards his car and Jungkook is a little worried that his car wouldn’t be there at all but as you had promised, he finds it where he had left it, not even a scratch on it.

“See, I told you it’ll still be here,” You smile.

“But you told me over text the other day that a car like mine would go missing the instant I let it out of my sight.”

“Not here it won’t.”

“What’s so special about this place?”

“It’s a crime-free zone,” You answer, snickering at the literal question marks that were floating above Jungkook’s head. “I think you’ve heard enough about politics tonight,” You laugh, walking around to the passenger seat of the car. “Maybe I’ll tell you some other night,” You huff before getting into the car.

“It’s like every corner of the South has its own story,” Jungkook laughs, shutting the door. “Maybe, you’ll tell me over donuts sometime this week?”

“Let me take a look at my schedule first,” You mumble and it makes Jungkook laugh because usually he’s the one saying that line.

“What?” You grumble and he shakes his head, letting you carry on as you figure out in your head if you have any free time this week. You eventually tell him that you’re too tired to think, that you’d text him later.

The car ride to your apartment is a little too short for Jungkook’s liking and although he’s spent his whole night with you already, it still made him slightly upset when he pulls up to your apartment. Again, like the first night, he wants to tell you that hanging out with you made him feel alive if that made sense but he decides against it, not wanting to sound dumb.

“So, now you have to tell me,” You unclick your seatbelt turning towards him. “Who does donuts better? The North or the South.”

Jungkook purses his lips before he grits his teeth, not wanting to let you know that okay, maybe he was wrong about the donuts in the North.

“The South,” He sighs, letting his head hang low as you let out a light laugh. “But you totally cheated,” He grumbles because by donuts he thought you meant just normal glazed ones but when he dug around the bag for another one earlier when the pair of you were on the bench, he found a powdered donut. The moment he bit into it to find a custard filled centre, he was sold. “How did you know that custard filled donuts are the way to my heart?”

“The custard ones were for me,” You frown. “You weren’t supposed to have them. They’re my favourite.”

The custard donuts were for you, yes and you lied because yeah you love them but you also bought it with the intention of offering him one. You remember reading in a magazine somewhere that it was his favourite, that if there was something the city was lacking, it was a donut store that knew how to do custard-filled donuts well. You’re just not looking hard enough, you sigh as you read the interview. You swore that if you ever met him, you’d take him to the donut store and that you did.

“Well it appears that we are soulmates then,” Jungkook grins as he winks at you and you roll your eyes at him but he can see your cheeks begin to flush a light pink.

“Alright, soulmate,” You laugh. “I’ll see you soon?” You ask, reaching for the door handle.

“I don’t know, you tell me, Mrs. Let me check my schedule,” He teases and you scowl at him.

“I’m a busy woman, okay?” You glower before laughing. “Thanks for tonight though. It was fun,” You smile.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” He smiles in return. “Oh and how much were the donuts?” He questions, reaching into his inner pocket for his wallet.

“Ah, Jungkook, don’t worry about it really,” You push away the cash he had in his hand now.

“Y/N,” He sighs. “Do you still not understand that I’m supposed to pay for everything?” This oddly seemed reminiscent of the last time he dropped you off. Why do you always pay for supper even when you’re strapped for cash? The part where he pays for everything was what he thought would be any sugar baby’s favourite part of the deal but you seem to think differently.

“I know, I know,” You mumble. “But, I just… Take it as a form of an apology for having to hear me ramble tonight.”

“No, Y/N, I—”

“Goodnight!” You shout, as you scramble to exit his car, not letting him argue with you. “I’ll see you around, friend!”

“Soulmate!” He corrects and though you’re a good distance away from him now, he can still see you scowl at him to which he only responds with a laugh.

Jungkook knows that tomorrow, he’ll probably receive an angry text from you, one that demanded he takes back the money he had slipped into the takeaway bag while you were buying the donuts because he had a feeling you were going to refuse his money by the end of the night. The amount he had left paid for the donuts and a lot more because he felt like you needed it and maybe he rather enjoyed the thought of you using it to spoil yourself, though he knows if anything, it would go to paying off your debts. He knows through all your texts that you have far more on your plate than you can handle and he wants to help you, even if you didn’t want his help.

I don’t want to be your personal charity case, Jungkook, is what you had told him when he said he could help with your debt but that’s not what he meant for it to be like.

I can get you an entry level job at my company, he had offered but you turned it down vehemently. Jungkook, that’ll only put you in a tough spot. I don’t want to get you in trouble... People will start asking questions, you had warned him and that was true, he admits. He later realizes that he wants you as far away from his mother as possible too.

He hasn’t told you yet but he admires you greatly. He wonders how you’ve been able to survive so long out here in the city without your parents, how you’re still standing after all the odds that have been stacked against you, how you still remain so kind, so caring even when life has been nothing but cruel to you. Looking at you, he truly realizes how unfair life can be because from his brief conversations with you, he can tell that you’re a genius, and he’s not going to lie, he may have asked for your help in trying to solve a few company dilemmas that he was tasked with, a few too many times. You’re an asset he wants at the company, and he can see the similarities between you and his grandfather, it’s almost uncanny, he laughs. But, just like his grandfather, you have an air of mystery that surrounds you, things he can’t seem to figure out, the top one being where is your family and why did you clam up whenever he asked about them? But, Jungkook guesses, he has a few skeletons to hide in his closet too, his family, his father, a main topic he has yet to discuss with you. Perhaps he was making mountains of of molehills, that you didn’t have anything to hide and that you simply just haven’t told him yet but with time, he hopes, you’ll clear the doubt in his mind. You couldn’t quite possibly have a hidden agenda could you? If you turned out to be yet another one of those girls who were hoping to be able to destroy his family’s company with dirty schemes, he wouldn’t hesitate to crush you, even if he’s grown fond of you.

He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the sour thoughts that try to take root in his mind because tonight was far too good a night to be ruined by his habit of overthinking things. Perfect. Tonight was perfect in Jungkook’s books. He drives home feeling rather joyous, using the remaining distance before the bridge as an excuse to drive his car at way past the speed limit. Who knew he’d learn how to cook, break the law, have the best donuts he’s ever tasted and have a conversation ranging from politics to that new video game release, all in one night? This was something that was probably only capable of happening when he was with you. He feels like he’s going to plough through his bucket list that he’s had ever since he was 12 as he spends more time with you, your brilliant self adding onto his list things he never knew he wanted to do.

Alive. That’s how he felt whenever he was with you or talking to you. It’s stupid, because he’s often acknowledged by the inner social circle he has, everyone admiring the fine young man he’s grown up to be but he always felt like they didn’t really care about him, they just care about who he is, about who he’s going to be. You on the other hand, made him feel like he matters, like you enjoy having him around because he’s just simply... him and not because of what he has or what he’s achieved.

The night ends with all parties feeling overjoyed; Jungkook delighted with the unpredictable adventure that was tonight, you elated with the fact that not only had you laughed your ass off tonight but that also for the first time in weeks, you’ll be eating something that was not a sandwich for lunch, but perhaps the hooded man sat inside his car, opposite of where Jungkook’s was just seconds ago was the most content of the three. Happy didn’t even begin to describe what he’s feeling as his plan is coming along just nicely, almost too perfectly and he smiles, admiring the pictures he’d taken of tonight. Mrs. Jeon surely would enjoy seeing these pictures, you and him together, he sighs to himself. But no, it’s too soon for that. There’s still much that he’s waiting for you to do. A perfect night indeed, he smirks.

A perfect night indeed.

#btswriters #kkreationsnet #kpopwritingnet #armiesnet #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #jungkook fluff #yo i promise there will be more fluff in the next chap lol

612 notes · View notes