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queen-ofsunflowers · 3 years

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DadWorth AU: Part 4 (Trials & Tribulations)

Unlike the previous parts, this is mostly just shenanigans since Kay and Miles at this point are starting to work on bettering their relationship after their reunion in Farewell, My Turnabout. So it’s fun and kind of angsty times because Phoenix still falls off a bridge. Miles is present for most of the cases, excluding Stolen, but his appearances mostly take place in the background.

< Part 3 | Part 5 >

Turnabout Memories

Kay’s junior year at Themis starts and the students are given a chance to look into previous cases for a project that they have to do. Kay decides to do the one that inspired her to be an attorney. Or at least, for her to start following Mia’s career. Which if anyone remembers from part 1, was the State v. Wright 2014.

At the time of the case happening, Kay didn’t recognize the defendant’s name. But now... Now she knows who it is. So she goes directly to Phoenix to get an explanation. In front of just about everybody.

Today is Embarrass Phoenix Wright Day.

If you’re wondering, Kay is absolutely stunned by the fact that Phoenix ate the necklace. She knew it happened, but it’s only now hitting her that the defendant who swallowed the bottle and the amazing attorney who so far has been the only one to beat Miles and her semi-mentor figure are the same person.

The Stolen Turnabout

With Miles out of the country, Kay (and maybe the boys klavier and sebastian too, I’m not sure) is dragged down to Lordly Tailor by Maya, and that’s where things go from there. She’s kind of surprised that it was the urn that got stolen, picking up pretty quickly that it wasn’t worth that much in the first place. (Though this might be due to her involvement in 2-2, so she knows that it has been broken before.)

Kay stands with Phoenix on the matter of whether or not Ron actually stole the urn. According to her, the guy “couldn’t even pickpocket a blind man”. Pearl kicks her in the shin before running out of the detention center. Maya and Kay have gotten pretty close to each other because of the events of Farewell, since they were kidnapped and that’s some strong bonding there. So, Maya’s hurt by both of them believing in Ron’s innocence, but with Kay’s involvement, she quickly starts to think that they might be right sooner rather than later. Still, since it hurts, Kay takes Maya’s place temporarily on the first day of investigating.

Things that happen here are Kay starting to steal stuff herself. For example, she swipes the blackmail letter on the first visit to the DeLite’s apartment. (”kay, we’re defense attorneys. we don’t steal.” “but you take evidence all the time. how is that not the same thing?” “...moving on--”.)

Kay can’t stand Atmey, especially when he starts rambling on the way he does. She both states that Gumshoe’s a better detective than he is (some of that being bias, but still) and calls him out when he claims that Miles has called Godot the best prosecutor in the country. Miles doesn’t even know who he is. Phoenix finds her interactions with him slightly hilarious (it’s a sixteen year old girl tearing an eccentric a-hole a new one, after all.)

Kay’s able to stand co-counsel for the entirety of this trial due to it taking place completely on a weekend. Which means she also gets to meet Godot. He’s... To her, he’s flat out weird. He’s Cyclops with a caffeine addiction. And he’s not able to avoid her snark either.

She gets really happy when they get the Not Guilty verdict on the first day, and her relationship with the Feys gets patched up, too. And then all that goes down the drain when Ron is arrested for murder. More investigation is needed.

When it’s revealed that Ron is actually Mask ☆ DeMasque, Kay feels kind of bad over the remark she made the day before since most of those thefts were kind of impressive to her after she read about them. That’s about as much as what happens during the investigation. She really gets into the whole phantom thief stuff, much to Phoenix’s dismay.

When it comes time for the trial, Kay feels so much satisfaction in catching Atmey. She hates him so much. She doesn’t, however, like the fact that Godot keeps throwing coffee at the defense team.

I should note that Kay thinks that Godot’s voice sounds familiar, but she can’t place why at this time. It’s been YEARS since the events of Beginnings, and they didn’t even interact. Kay just watched the trial and heard him speak. So, that whole mystery is still under wraps for now.

Recipe for the Turnabout

Kay, Klavier and Sebastian are at Wright & Co. when Gumshoe bursts through the door, scaring the crap out of the three of them and Maya in the process. She, much like Phoenix, is confused as heck as to what he’s talking about when he tells them about the phony trial. She can also vouch for what happened and the fake Phoenix. (I have plans for what happened there, i just need to watch/play the game there myself...) So everyone is confused, and this warrants some footwork.

Phoenix Wright ends up being followed by a group of teenagers during his investigation. This has been going on for a while. He’s accepted it. It’s part of his life now.

When it comes to Tres Bien, Maya’s not the only one who gets roped into working there. Through misunderstandings, Kay gets pulled in as well. The guys kind of just run off, leaving the girls in their unfortunate situation for now.

Phoenix is stuck with the boys for the time being, which leads to some pretty fun and interesting interactions, including their reactions to meeting Tigre for the first time. Sebastian’s just confused because Tigre is taller, older and the only thing about Phoenix that he shares is their hair style. Klavier verbally voices this, just going off on how the hell anyone could mistake the two. (and loses his shit at the cardboard badge. from a distance, yeah, but seriously?!)

When they eventually come back to the restaurant, being the stupid teenage boys that they are, Klavier and Sebastian find the situation Kay is in hilarious. Klavier takes a picture of Kay in the Tres Bien outfit because “everyone needs to see this”. (Everyone mostly being Ema, whose in Europe.) Kay tackles him to try and get him to delete the photo, but he doesn’t. It becomes Kay’s contact picture in his phone.

whether or not kay continues to work here after the case is still up in the air. her and miles’ financial situation is pretty good, but kay’s also the independent type, so i feel like she’d want to save her own money for things instead of having to ask for it.

It’s lucky that at this point the girls are saved from their forced jobs, and Phoenix brings them down to the park, where things go as they do in canon with Maya channeling Mia to get information out of Kudo. Phoenix just kind of pushes Kay behind him while Mia does her thing, because if Miles ever found out he let Kay do something like that, he would never forgive him. It does lead, however, to this interaction here:

“and what have we learned today?” “take what you got and exploit the men who think with their di--” “okay! let’s get back to the investigation, shall we?!” “...klavier, why are you looking down at your chest?” “huh? just thinking.”

listen, klavier doesn’t button up his shirt all the way for a reason, and this is why.

Kay gets a bit ticked off that the prosecutor is Godot again (something that the guys predict because she complained about her hair smelling like coffee for days after being in the splash zone of the last trial). Fortunately, she doesn’t have to be here since the trial primarily covers school days. However, the Themis Trio does help out with the investigation when they’re free, taking a look at Blue Screens while Phoenix and Maya handle Tres Bien. They regroup when its time to head to Tender Lender.

Things go pretty much the same from there until the end with the confrontation with Tigre at Tres Bien. There’s another change here since Tigre and Armstrong are outnumbered. Phoenix still gets punched, but its not Tigre who grabs the medical papers. It’s Sebastian in a moment of panic. This basically leads to them playing keep-away with the papers as they try to get out with them and get away from Tigre. It doesn’t work out, though, because eventually as the papers are returned to Phoenix and the gang goes to flee, Tigre grabs and pulls an off-guard Kay back. It’s an exchange -- the papers for the girl. (think that one situation in ablaze but without the threat of getting shot.)

But that’s not what happens because like in canon, Gumshoe comes to the rescue. And he is more pissed off than before because that’s his pseudo-niece. Phoenix and the kids run out of there as soon as they can. Later that night, Miles asks about the bruises on Kay’s arm from where Tigre had grabbed her. She’s not sure what to say.

Miles gets involved in the background of this case due to Kay’s injury, helping out Gumshoe when it comes to getting the bottle analyzed (and getting assault added to the list of crimes Tigre is charged with.) Both him and Kay are pleased when Tigre gets arrested.

Turnabout Beginnings

We already covered this case in Part 1. Kay was in the audience watching. Primarily, this is mostly skipped aside from Kay mentioning it to Phoenix very earlier on. I’m talking like... last part early during Reunion. Thinking about that while in the hospital sparks his interest in taking a look at it via Mia’s case files.

Bridge to the Turnabout

With Miles out of the country, Kay is free to kind of do whatever. Because she’s friends with Maya, Pearl drags her up to Hazakura, partially against Kay’s will because its cold and she hates the cold.

She faintly recognizes Iris because as said before, she sat in on Beginnings. She knows what Dahlia looks like. However, because it was so long ago for her, she doesn’t quite remember why. She does play into Larry’s whole artist thing, but refuses to call him Laurice. (”okay... good for you, larry.” “laurice!” “i’m not calling you that.”)

As for Elise, the most that Kay knows about her is that she’s an author. Though, unlike Maya, she does take note of how similar she looks to the painting of Misty, as well as Maya and Mia. (maya must’ve noticed some similarities herself, but why she didn’t say anything is a mystery to me.)

Kay’s starting to think that this trip might not be so bad... until everything goes to shit when she’s woken up by a scream. As a result, both she and Phoenix head out to the courtyard and discover Elise’s body. Unlike Phoenix, however, Kay has her phone on her. She’s not able to tell him this, though, because Phoenix is already running to the bridge. She gives chase, trying to catch up.

Things go on as normal. The bridge is on fire, they meet up with Larry. And Phoenix runs across the bridge. He falls. Kay screams.

Kay and Larry both find and pull Phoenix out of the river. Larry calls the police while Kay is trying to calm herself down and keep Phoenix from possibly dying. The only person she can think of to call is Miles. So yes, in this version of the story, Kay handles the phone call to Edgeworth, so things are a bit more well explained on that end. Not entirely, because Kay’s freaking the fuck out, but a bit better.

The police arrive, Iris is arrested and Phoenix is taken to the hospital with Kay riding in the ambulance as well (after some heavy persuasion.) She’s at the hospital all night, and is there when Miles arrives. He’s relieved that she’s alright, especially after the phone call he received from her last night. It’s pure luck that Phoenix survived the fall with minimal injury and a cold. Kay calls him stupid in at least seven different ways when they’re finally let into his room.

Kay is still freaked out over everything that happened the night before, so she sticks by her dad’s side. She’s there to straighten out Larry at the detention center and explain the magatama in a bit more detail than a fever-hazy Phoenix since she’s seen him use it multiple times before. Alon

Basically, Kay is the Maya to Miles’s Phoenix here. Miles doesn’t want her to be on the case with him, but she does so anyway. She claims it’s because she’s the defense attorney in training and she knows more about it than he does since she was there, too. During the investigation, Kay finds out about Pearl and Maya being on the other side of the bridge and gets worried as heck for their safety.

She’s also the one who handles getting Franziska to prosecute. Kay lies and says that Phoenix had a pretty big case on his hands that still needed a prosecutor, and Franziska took the bait. Needless to say, Fran’s a bit ticked off when she discovers the truth.

But the best part about this is father-daughter standing at the bench together. It is a lot of fun banter between them and Franziska, too. And Kay gets another Larry-Induced headache when he testifies on the stand. Though, due to what happened with Goodbyes, she trusts him to some extent and his trying to figure out what the heck actually happened.

When the trial gets out and Phoenix is back in the saddle, Kay calls him stupid again for investigating while sick. She works in tandem with both him and Miles for this part of the case. Yeah, she’s part of the investigation team.

She’s relieved when they finally find Pearl on the other side of the bridge (Kay gets a small hug from Pearls, have that visual.) She, like everyone else, is confused about why Godot is there. Unlike the others, however, Kay is incredibly close to fighting a man about twice her age when he starts going after Phoenix for his involvement in Mia’s death.

When the earthquake hits, the first thing Kay’s mind goes to is her dad. She races to find Miles first before anything else. She’s lived with him since she was ten years old. She knows about his fear of earthquakes.

After discovering the locks on the door, Kay does follow Miles out to the garden. He does get a hug from her, since she’s not sure what else to do at the time. Compared to last year, it shows that they’re doing a lot better. She’s also there when Phoenix comes by and manages to figure out the Hawthorne connection pretty quickly. She leaks the information to Phoenix, despite Miles’s protests. (”i’m not a prosecutor, so i don’t have to keep my mouth shut.”)

When it comes to the trial the next day, Kay’s in the gallery with everyone else since Phoenix claims that he has to do this alone (another thing that Kay calls him stupid for.) She’s on the edge of her seat the entire time -- watching as Phoenix unmasks and stands before the spirit of the woman who tried to kill him. And after exercising her from Maya’s body, Kay claims that she’s no longer phased by anything weird that happens in court.

Though, she is surprised when Phoenix accuses Godot of the crime. She doesn’t like the guy as much as the next person -- he’s a huge jerk -- but what? As the mystery begins to unravel, she starts to see how he got there, she’s kind of awestruck. She never expected Phoenix to come into his own like this. In the end, though, Godot confesses and things go pretty much the same way as they do in canon.

After all is said and done, Kay promises that she’ll become a defense attorney as great as both Mia Fey and the amazing Phoenix Wright. Phoenix will deny that this ever happened, but he did start to tear up a little upon hearing that. He becomes her mentor after the events of this case. It’ll become an important factor in Kay’s decisions later on that year... right around April.

And that’s it for the trilogy! There are some more parts that I want to add on, such as the ripples all this has created in the later games -- the investigation games especially.

#ace attorney #ace attorney au #dadworth au #kay faraday #phoenix wright #klavier gavin #sebastian debeste #maya fey #godot #diego armando #larry butz #miles edgeworth #franziska von karma #mia fey #furio tigre #luke atmey #ron delite #dahlia hawthorne #kay edgeworth au

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blackswaneuroparedux · 3 years

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Anonymous asked: Have you watched Lupin? What did you think? (And are you a fan of the books or other adaptations of the character?)

The short answer is yes, I have seen Lupin on Netflix. Overall I enjoyed it so long as I suspended my disbelief at certain things.

Unfortunately it took being struck down by Covid and being bedridden for me to actually to binge watch the whole series. So I was behind the curve when my friends, French and those outside of France, started to talk about it around me. I had to beg them not to give away spoilers until I had seen it all.

It did surprise me that it won rave widespread reviews outside France because usually French drama series don’t travel very well outside of France. I’m sure even Netflix had no idea how successful it would be for them. I’m sure being in Covid lockdown had something to do with it. In any case I don’t begrudge its success as it’s well earned.

However I wasn’t too surprised that within France itself the French reviews were decidely mixed and divisive. The critic at Le Point painfully hit the nail on the head when he wrote, “Le plus gros défaut de l'ensemble reste la pauvreté des personnages, tous unidimensionnels, caricaturaux et aussi épais que du papier à cigarette.“ - loosely translated as, ‘the biggest flaw of the whole thing remains the poverty of the characters, all one-dimensional, cartoonish and as thick as cigarette paper’.

There’s a growing amount of good French stuff on TV and streaming services but a non-French audience will not have had the chance to have seen all of it yet. I can think of any number of French television drama/dramedy/cmedy series that are much better than Lupin with better plots, characters, and even a truer perspective of French society and even modern day France (Dix pour cent (Call My Agent!), Le Bureau des Légendes, Engrenages, Baron Noir, and Paris Police 1900). But you would be hard pressed to find anything that comes close to Lupin just for the sake of something fun to watch during the Covid lockdown.

What makes the current generation of home made French television series so interesting is how much of it is a reflection of France’s own anxieities about itself and its role in a increasingly English speaking dominating world. In a funny way it sees itself as defiant plucky Asterix fighting off the Roman American cultural hordes from totally invading their Francophone culture.

For sure, it has societal and racial issues stemming from its colonial legacy and issues of immigration and integration (France has the largest Muslim population in Europe). However it seems to want to ‘resolve’ these issues through the almost sacramental adherence to French secularist ideals rather than American inspired ideas of social justice and equity. There’s always been something very admirable about the French - from the time of General de Gaulle and perhaps before - always swinging from snooty ambivalence to outright antipathy towards the influence of American culture ‘americanising’ French culture (no to Walmarts or fast food chains for example).

Is it any wonder then that Netflix’s ill-conceived American series ‘Emily in Paris’ was widely hated and mocked within France for just perpetuating those lazy American tropes of Paris and French culture?

Personally I know Francophile Americans, long resident in Paris, who were frankly embarrassed and spent a lot of time apologising to their French friends. I have one American friend who has told me that she was so mad that she would have blind folded Emily and shoved her hard in the car boot and drive her all the way to the poorest of the banlieues in the grimey crime saturated suburbs of Paris - Seine-Saint-Denis came to mind - and dump her preening arse there. She would slap her and tell the spoilt entitied brat to make her own way back home - you know, to her spacious apartment in one of the most expensive arrondissements of Paris that of course(!) any American intern working for French marketing firms can afford.

I digress. My apologies. Watching this God awful show gives me PTSD.

Onto Lupin.

Thankfully Lupin doesn’t try to play to non-French tropes of what Paris is or isn’t. It does skim the surface of current discontents within French culture and society (race, class, power, and money) but ever so lightly so as to not get in the way of just spinning a good crowd pleasing yarn. It invites you to have fun and not to think too much. I have to be honest and say I enjoyed it as long as I suspended my disbelief here and there.

Lupin refers of course to the character Arsène Lupin, the French gentleman thief who stole jewellery from Parisian haute bourgeois and aristocracy at the turn of the century. Lupin, as written in the novels and short stories by Maurice Leblanc between 1905 and his death in 1941, was the archetypical anti-hero, a Robin Hood who stole from those who deserved it but kept the loot himself. He was often portrayed often a force for good, while operating on the wrong side of the law.

Lupin never really made much of an impact outside of France as he had within France where is revered with many French film and television adaptations. In England, we already had a Lupin type character in the form of A.J. Raffles, a cricket playing gentleman thief with his aristocratic side kick, Bunny. E.W. Horning’s stories of Raffles’ daring heists proved to be quite popular with the British public when Raffles first appeared on the scene in 1898. And even later Leslie Charteris’ The Saint took over the mantle from Raffles as the gentleman thief/adventuring Robin Hood.

I think Hollywood tried to introduce him to an English speaking audience (legendary actor John Barrymore even played him) but he didn’t really take off and eventually they found their gentleman thief archetype in Sir Charles Lytton aka The Phantom (played by David Niven and Christopher Plummer) in the Pink Panther movies. So Lupin never got the English audience he deserved.

I first got wind of who Arsène Lupin was when I was growing up in Japan as a child. As strange as it sounds Lupin was big in Japan especially after World War Two. The Japanese did their own take on the Lupin character using Japanese actors and plot lines but it was Lupin.

I don’t know how exactly but I remember watching these scratchy DVDs of these Lupin inspired films. I think it was one of my parents’ Japanese friends who was mad for all things Lupin and he had studied French literature in France. Jogging my memory I now recall these black & white films were done in the 1950s. One starred Keiji Sada and the other version I remember was with Eija Okada (he was in Resnais’ classic film, Hiroshima Mon Amour) as Arsene Lupin called (I think) Kao-no Nai Otoko. I didn’t understand most of it at the time because it was all in Japanese and my Japanese (at the time) was pitiful, but it looked fun.

There was even a Japanese manga version of Lupin which was called Lupin III, - so named because he was the grandson of the real Arsène Lupin.

The 1960s manga series spawned generations of TV series which I do remember watching and finding it terribly exciting if somewhat confusing.

It was French expatriate friends whom my family knew that introduced me to the real Arsène Lupin. They had a few of the books authored by Maurice Leblanc. It was in French so I read them to improve my French but enjoyed the story along the way.

I also remember them showing me scratchy episodes of the 1970s Franco-German TV series ‘Arsène Lupin’ with the monocle wearing Georges Descrières in the lead role. It was a classical re-telling of the adventures of the aristocratic gentleman-burglar and very family friendly viewing. I don’t really remember much of it to be honest.

It was some years before I actually started to read more of the Maurice Leblanc’s novels and short stories collection. I have them all now. I was a teen and I remember being stuck in a snowed in a Swiss Alpine chalet and with nothing else to do but pull out a few dog eared books from the bookshelves belonging to our French host and read to pass the time.

I read Les Dents du tigre, Arsène Lupin vs Herlock Sholmes, and Les Huit Coups de l'horloge and thoroughly enjoyed them in the original French. I was already reading classic detective and mystery novels (Sherlock Holmes, Poirot etc) so it was natural to read the adventures of Arsène Lupin.

I haven’t got around to reading all the novels and short stories but I have read most of them and I enjoyed them all immensely. In the same way Conan Doyle, through Holmes and Watson, manages to conjure a convincing picture of late Victorian and early Edwardian England, so Leblanc manages to give us a taste of Belle Epoque France through the eyes of his suave gentleman-thief, Arsène Lupin.

Indeed it's a lot like reading Sherlock Holmes in that you're always trying to figure out how he did it, but the difference is that you are rooting for the bad guy. You can’t help but be drawn to this gentleman thief who is charming, comic, playful, and romantic and generous. Lupin is not an intellectual puzzle-solver but first a master criminal, later a detective helper, who maintains his curious ethics throughout his adventures. In this regard he is very much the anti-Sherlock Holmes; and I wasn’t disappointed when I actually read the story where Lupin faces off with Holmes himself. Brilliant!

I’ve also seen the 2004 French movie with Romain Duris in the Lupin lead role and it also starred the majestic Kristin Scott Thomas and the sexy Eva Green.

It was a decent adventure flick and it was a clear confluence of different Lupin novels (The Queen's Necklace (introducing Lupin's childhood), The Hollow Needle (where the treasure is the macguffin of the story), The Arrest of Arsène Lupin (the gala on the ship as a backdrop) and Josephine Balsamo, (one of Lupin’s most memorable opponents in the The Countess Of Cagliostro).

Romaine Duris, a fine classical actor, was I felt miscast because he didn’t have Lupin’s levity of wit and be at ease within himself. I love Duris in his other films but in Arsène Lupin and even in his other film, Moliere, he seemed ill at ease with the role. Perhaps that’s just me.

The latest Netflix adaptation (or reimagining to be more precise) is a welcome addition to the world of Arsène Lupin.If you don’t over-think it, it’s bags of fun.

Omar Sy is immensely likeable. Sy is a deservedly a big star in France - he won the best actor César for “The Intouchables,” an international hit - and has played forgettable secondary characters in big-budget American special effects movies (he was Chris Pratt’s assistant in “Jurassic World” and a minor mutant in “X-Men: Days of Future Past”). It was reportedly his desire to play Arsène Lupin, whom he’s compared to James Bond (“fun, funny, elegant”), that led to the series, created by British writer George Kay. And it is on his charm that the series largely, though not entirely, rests.

So the basic story revolves around a jewellery heist. Sy plays Assane Diop, a first-generation French-Senegalese man in contemporary Paris. A collection of Lupin stories, a gift from his father - whose undeserved fate Assane set himself to avenge in long-delayed, Count of Monte Cristo style upon a criminal tycoon - has made the actual Lupin books a foundation of his life and profitably illicit career. This fan-ship goes as far as borrowing practical ideas from the stories and constructing aliases out of anagrams of “Arsene Lupin,” a habit that will attract the interest of a low-level police detective (Soufiane Guerrab as Youssef Guedira) who shares Assane’s love of the books. (That the detective also shares an initial with Lupin’s own adversary, Inspector Ganimard, is possibly not a coincidence.)

Among the many comic delights of Lupin, is an unspoken one. Time and again, the show’s hero, master thief Assane Diop is able to slip into a place unnoticed, or by assuming a minor disguise that prevents witnesses from providing an accurate description of him to law enforcement.

Why is this funny?

Because Omar Sy is six feet three (and, since most actors are short, seems even taller), is roughly as wide as soccer pitch, and is memorable even before he flashes his infectious million-Euro smile. This is not a man for whom anonymity should be possible - even allowing for racial bias in a majority-white country, Assane would be memorable and distinctive - and Lupin seems cheekily aware of this. Like the various incredible sleights of hand Assane deploys to pull off his thefts and escapes, his ability to be anyone, anywhere, is treated more as a superpower than as something even the world’s greatest criminal would be able to pull off.

At one point, when he’s slated for a cable news appearance as a much older man, we learn that Assane is also a master of disguise. The revelation of this skill arrives with a wink in the show, and it feels pointless to ask where he learned it, or how he affords movie-quality latex and makeup. Or rather, asking the question feels wrong.

We know this is impossible, the show seems to be asking its viewers again and again, but isn’t it so much fun?

The performances and the production - it has that particularly European filmic quality of feeling natural even when it gets stylish - keep the series warm even as the plot is made up of incredulous contraptions that require everything to go right at just the right time and for human psychology to be 100% predictable. Its physics are classical rather than quantum, one might say, and like the world itself, which becomes more curious the deeper you peer into things, it is best handled along the surface. You do not want to take too much time working out the likelihood of any of this happening. Just go along for the ride.

Somehow, though, it all works because Sy is so magnetic and charming that questioning plot logic feels wildly besides the point. Though he never looks appreciably different in his various aliases (including one ill-conceived live-TV appearance done under old-man makeup and a thick beard), he changes his posture and voice ( if you watch it in French that is) enough to allow for the willing suspension of disbelief, in the same way that any lead actor as Superman has to do when playing Clark Kent. But Sy and the show are at their strongest when Assane is just being his own Superman self, utterly relaxed and confident in his own skin, and so captivating that his ex-partner, Claire, can’t really resist him despite ample reason to.

If Assane seems practically perfect in every way, he is not perfectly perfect. His most obvious failing is that his criminal shenanigans and revenging make him less than reliable in his daily life, affecting his relationships with ex-partner Claire (Ludivine Sagnier, whom non-French audiences might recognise from “The Young Pope” and “The New Pope”), who despairs of his inability to show up on time to see his son Raoul (Etan Simon). Like Sy, Sagnier brings a lot of soul to her part - though onscreen far less, she’s as important as Sy to the series’ success - and the two actors have great chemistry. Also impressive and key to creating sympathy are the actors who play their flashback teenage selves, Mamadou Haidara and Ludmilla Makowski. Really, you could do away with action elements and build a series around them.

This is a pity because Lupin often fumbles its emotional reveals in other parts - the story of Diop being torn between his job and his family feels like wheel-spinning, rather than genuine emotional intrigue.

Soufiane Guerrab is wasted in the Young Detective Consumed by the Case role and spends most of this season pinning colour printouts of book covers to cork boards and getting waved off by his colleagues, who are all blinded or otherwise hampered by careerism.

But to my mind the weakest link is the villain himself and his daughter. Veteran actor Hervé Pierre hams it up as Hubert Pellegrini, a business tycoon who is the patriarch of the Pellegrini family. He just comes across as animated cartoon villain with no character depth (think moustache twirling Russian villain, Boris Badenov, in the Rocky & Bullwinkle cartoon shows). He just emotes anger a lot without any nuance or hint of complexity.

Even Clotilde Hesme who plays the daughter who is unaware of her father’s criminal tendencies is miscast. For the record I adore Clotilde Hesme as she one of France’s most talented classical actresses (that non-French outsiders will not have heard of). She is a classically theatre trained actress and is one of the best stage actresses of her generation that I have ever seen. I’ve seen her in plays where she is just mesmerising. She has said before that she’s more comfortable on the stage than she is on the screen. And when she has been on screen she still has been a powerful presence. She’s actually won a César too. Here in Lupin, she seems to have no agency and looks bored with nothing really to do.I really hope they give her more scenes in the next part of Lupin.

The series is at its best when following Diop enacting his plans, and when revealing each one from a different vantage, making us privy to every moving part like a magician revealing his secrets. The show captures the momentum of a clockwork heist, the tension of sudden obstacles and the ingenuity of improvised responses, with thrilling precision (especially in “Chapter 1 - Le Collier de la reine,” directed by Now You See Me’s Louis Leterrier).

Lupin is also politically incisive when it wants to be; it brings to mind Ladj Ly’s Oscar-nominated 2019 film Les Misérables, which adapted the broad strokes of Victor Hugo’s novel about the 1832 Paris Rebellion, and modernised the story by focusing on the police brutality faced by non-white Parisians.

Lupin opens with Diop disguised as cleaning staff and entering the Louvre after-hours, alongside dozens of forgotten, anonymous non-white workers as they pass by “La Liberté guidant le people,” Eugène Delacroix’s famous painting of the July Revolution of 1830 which replaced France’s hereditary rule with popular sovereignty.

Before any semblance of plot or character, Lupin centres broken ideals and promises unkept (without giving too much away, the show’s primary villain has much more nationalistic view of French culture and history which merely adds to a cartoonish caricature than a complex character). The rest of the episode is about valuable jewels once owned by Marie Antionette - one of the most recognisable symbols of wealth and extravagance in times of extreme poverty - which are put up for auction by the Pelligrini family, and bid on by other wealthy collectors with bottomless purses and no sense of irony.

Granted, beyond this auction subplot, explorations of race and class are largely limited to individual interactions, but the show continues to refer back to (and implicitly comment on) its source material in ways that wink at the audience. An elderly, unassuming target of Diop’s schemes seems like an unlikely victim at first - Diop, though he acts in his own self-interest, usually displays a moral compass - until this victim reveals the colonial origins of her wealth, immediately re-contextualising the ethics of the situation, in a manner that Leblanc’s stories did not. (The show is yet to apply this lens to Arsène Lupin himself, who Diop treats with reverence, but that’s a secondary concern since Lupin is entirely fictional in-world).

Barring some nagging structural problems - like cutting to flashbacks when things are getting exciting, or epilogues that feel ten minutes too long - Lupin mostly works. It plants a few personal seeds early on, which it keeps hinting at without fully addressing, but by the time its scattered elements come into focus, the show finally figures out how to weave them together, and delivers a mid-season cliffhanger that renders many of these flaws irrelevant.

Lupin manages to have fun even with an antiquated premise - the story of a suave con-man who charms his way through high-profile robberies - while adding just enough new spin on the concept to feel refreshing. Omar Sy may not have much to work with, but his alluring presence makes Assane Diop feel like a worthy successor to Arsène Lupin.

Lupin isn’t going to win César, BAFTA, or Emmy awards, or even turn heads for its ability to develop tertiary or even secondary plots or characters - that doesn’t really matter. You’re there to see a difficult hero be difficult and heroic - everyone else is there to be charmed, vexed, or eluded by them. Sy’s performance bounds off the screen, and is almost musical. He floats through scenes like he glides over the roofs and through the back alleys of Paris; he outmanoeuvres his foes with superior literary references and sheer athleticism. He is irresistible and also good at everything he tries, even kidnapping.

I would encourage anyone to watch Lupin for a fun care free ride. But the only caveat I would make is watch it in the original French.

If you don’t know French then put on the subtitles to understand (that’s what they are there for). The real crime is to watch this (or any film or television series) dubbed in a foreign language. It’s disrespectful to the actors and film makers and it’s silly because it’s comical to watch something dubbed over.

Please watch it in the original French.

Then go and read the books. You won’t regret it.

Thanks for your question.

#question #ask #lupin #omar sy #netflix #tv show #culture #personal #arsene lupin #japan #maurice leblanc #france #french #society #arts

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ckret2 · 3 years

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GVK spoilers below, about conspiracy theories

I’m gonna get around to posting all my GVK reactions but this one got long so I’m putting it in its own post.

The Monsterverse series, in both KOTM and GVK, has some pretty interesting things to say about conspiracy theories and ecofascism; but, unfortunately, it doesn’t REALIZE that it’s saying any of them, so it keeps dropping the ball and missing opportunities to explore them.

Starting with KOTM, “there’s too many humans so we’ve just gotta let some die and that’ll fix pollution 🤷” is like false ecofascist claim #1 but at no point in the movie was it challenged as unfactual, it was just presented as a sad truth that people have to do morally ambiguous things about. Except that it’s just literally mathematically not true!

Emma could be such a GREAT, believable character—especially in this world with, like, frigging QAnon nonsense getting such widespread traction—showing a compelling, realistic tragedy of how this normal, intelligent, well-educated white mom who otherwise is likely left-leaning (pro-environmentalism, pro-nature conservation, got a doctorate and generally more academia correlates with more liberal ideals) got sucked into a far right ecofascist doomsday militia that combines hokey pseudo-environmentalist propaganda with “in balance with nature” semi-religious mysticism, because she was exploited at a time when she was emotionally vulnerable (when her kid had just died) and was lacking healthy emotional support (when her husband turned to alcohol and then ran off).

... Except the movie never says that her “overpopulation” beliefs are WRONG. It says that they’re RIGHT, and she was just forced to choose between two losing scenarios—deliberately kill most of humanity to hopefully save a few, or watch humanity kill itself.

Nobody bothers to mention that the size of the population isn’t the problem, it’s the disproportionate pollution coming out of first world countries. Nobody bothers to mention that when Emma talks about “overpopulation” and shows a screenshot of an overcrowded neighborhood, it ain’t affluent downtown skyscraper condos in Europe or America that she’s highlighting, but large masses of poor people whose neighborhoods look “dirty” to the white woman’s eyes, despite the fact that they’re contributing the least to humanity’s carbon footprint.

Emma’s beliefs are empirically wrong, and if KOTM had ever demonstrated that, it would’ve been brilliant. Instead, it tries to say “she was right, she just went too far,” and in doing so loses an opportunity to make Emma a deeply believable, timely, realistic, well-meaning but wrong villain.

And now we’ve got GVK, which has swerved away from the ecofascism but doubled down on the conspiracy theories. Here, Emma’s daughter, who was raised for five years with what amounts to a survivalist doomsday cult’s beliefs, when faced with the grief of her mother’s death and the struggle of trying to reconnect to her estranged father, turns—again—to conspiracies to make sense of the world around her. Because that’s what Madison’s been raised with, and even though she got disillusioned with the particular “we know something special that the normal people can’t handle” beliefs that she was raised with, that kind of thinking is still what she knows. She’s still doing what her mother raised her to do! She’s still pulling the “hypercompetent highly-trained lone wolf ‘survivor’ saves the world” shtick that Jonah’s gang taught her to do—but it’s never brought up that it was screwed up to raise a child like that and it’s screwed up for her to still be interacting with the world like that.

At least THIS conspiracy theorist isn’t literally advocating for global genocide. Bernie’s focus largely seems to be on “this corporation is trying to screw people over and screw up the environment—” (because in Monsterverse, as in Toho monster movies as a whole, kaiju/titans and the environment are symbolically conflated, so if a corporation is messing with Godzilla then they’re messing with nature as well) “—so I’m gonna find out what they’re up to and be a whistleblower.” Which is great! Solid start! We’ve got a guy taking aim at big business and who says “when the weather Godzilla acts erratic, it’s not random chance, it’s because a big business is doing something it shouldn’t,” so it looks like we’ve got a leftist conspiracy theorist, that’s different, could be interesting to explore.

Except then he starts talking about governments serving a “global elite” and facilities built by “lizard people” and then we’ve swung right back around to the far right by casually dropping in a couple of antisemitic conspiracy theories.

Add that in with the whole “hollow earth” thing and damn, we’re namedropping a lot of antisemitic conspiracy theories, aren’t we? Granted, most conspiracy theories ARE antisemitic—but like, they could have dug around for some that aren’t. Have him talk some more about Roswell. Have him bring up things that we’ve actually got documentation happened and theorize that MKUltra research was used in Apex’s development of their pilot’s psychic mind link to Mechagodzilla. Have him bring up tailor-made-for-the-Monsterverse conspiracy theories that don’t exist here, “Monster Zero is actually the secret weapon of a nearby ‘Planet X’ that’s gonna invade,” whatever. Instead, nah, we went with the antisemitic ones.

Now, do I think the writers behind KOTM and GVK intended antisemitism? Do I think they’re closet alt-right trying to dogwhistle the fascists in the audience? No, I think they think they’re making fun of—or playing around with—what they see as harmless, unbelievable, way-out-there conspiracy theories. I think they know just enough about “hollow earth” and “global elites” and “lizard people” to make references to them, but not in a way that promotes the common antisemitic understanding of those theories as true. (Monsterverse’s hollow earth, a weird underground jungle where King Kong lives, sure doesn’t resemble the usual conspiracy theory.) To me, the way they were used suggests the writers didn’t deeply understand (or at least, didn’t deeply think about) what the theories really mean—nor what they imply about the beliefs of the characters who espouse them. Which is the crux of my issue with how the movies deal with conspiracy theories and ecofascists and so forth (beyond the fact that, hey, I just don’t like seeing likable characters casually referencing antisemitic beliefs): the writers didn’t think about the implications.

Because these things do imply a lot! For example, if, say, Josh, total newb to conspiracy theories, had asked about lizard people, I would have grimaced to hear it but I would have believed that he’s a teen boy that picked up the term at school and doesn’t know anything about what’s behind it. But on the other hand, I can’t believe a guy so deep in the conspiracy theory world that he bathes in bleach doesn’t know exactly what those conspiracies mean—or, even if he does somehow staunchly refuse to believe that “lizard people” is a code for “Jewish people,” that whatever circle of conspiracy theorists he runs with doesn’t use it as a code. Bernie didn’t pick up those beliefs in a void. I really doubt that’s what the writers wanted to imply about the goofy likable underdog with a podcast.

And sure, the “global elite” and “lizard people” references are presented like a “haha look how far out his beliefs are” joke—the same as the fluoride reference, which is basically Hollywood code for “bogus nonsense only complete lunatics believe” thanks to Dr. Strangelove—but at the same time, they’re never really disproven. Nothing he believes is challenged. Nor are any of Madison’s beliefs that she’s picked up from him. Everything they both believe is either a “wow that’s wild” throwaway joke, or else they’re presented as totally right, e.g. about Apex being up to dubious crap that’s irritating Godzilla.

Just like Emma, who was presented as in the wrong not because she was incorrect but because she WAS correct but took the wrong actions. And just like Rick in KOTM, who kept bring up the hollow earth theory like a running joke but then the joke was that he was right.

And that’s at the root of the issues with both movies’ portrayals of conspiracy theories. Aside from the jokes that are never explored (and therefore, never disproven), the movies say that, every time it matters, the conspiracy theorists on the fringe are correct, the heroes that need to be believed. Even though all (excluding Rick) are characters who have suffered deep loss, who have been hurt, who you can imagine as passionate but grieving people who turned to dangerously wrong extremism in their search for meaning... the movies don’t portray them as people who have been led astray by their pain, but enlightened by their pain. Which is what they themselves think they are, sure, but that doesn’t line up with reality.

The movies never forces them to grapple with how far they’ve gone astray from reality—and I think they should. I’d like to see them processing the revelation that their beliefs are wrong. Whether it’s as big as somebody trying to convince Emma that killing half the population doesn’t fix the pollution caused by corporations rich enough to weather a global hurricane, or as small as Bernie looking at Apex’s financial records and realizing the company’s money is going to the CEO’s vacation home rather than a reptile government and deciding to rethink those beliefs after they’ve checked out Hong Kong.

“Conspiracy theorist is right about everything” is already a common enough trope that Monsterverse isn’t breaking any new ground with it. And in a franchise like Godzilla, whose movies are rife with messages both allegorical and literal about environmentalism, corporate exploitation, the futility of military action, international politics, war crimes... letting the conspiracy theorists be wrong and showing that they’re wrong and what that wrongness can lead to would mesh far better with the themes of Godzilla.

Think about Jonah and Emma unleashing Ghidorah (who emerged from a destroyed ice cap and immediately caused devastating hurricanes—a perfect metaphor for climate change), and what that could say about how ecofascists who purportedly joined the movement because they support environmentalism are actually far more in bed with the destructive industries really at the root of environmental damage... if the movie acknowledged them as ecofascists.

Think about how Jonah collected Ghidorah’s head at the end of KOTM and by the time of GVK it was in Apex’s hands, and how this exchange demonstrates that “I want to unleash titans to destroy humanity to save the environment” Jonah the ecoterrorist and “I want to beat the titans to protect humanity” Simmons the billionaire CEO actually have far more similar ideals beneath the surface of their opposed goals—ideals that have less to do with the environment or with humanity and more to do with securing personal power and control... if the movie had explained how this exchange took place.

Think about how Madison’s mother died trying to mitigate just a little of the damage she did under the thrall of a doomsday cult’s skewed beliefs, how even though Madison broke free she found herself embroiled in similarly skewed beliefs just three years later, and how powerful it would have been if she recognized that she herself had walked right back into the kind of fringe beliefs her mother had led her into as a child, and if she had then resolved to learn how this kept happening to her and break this pattern... if the movie had ever let her realize that she was making the same mistakes, or even acknowledged them as mistakes.

There’s so much potential there, so many things you can see happening right beneath the surface... but the movies never touch on them. And so it looks like, in Monsterverse, all fringe beliefs are either right or harmless. And we never get the “disillusioned conspiracy theorist” story that could be so brilliant and that, right now, would be so relevant.

#gvk #godzilla vs kong #gvk spoilers #godzilla vs kong spoilers #godzilla #kotm #meta

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let-it-raines · 4 years

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Black Velvet (Part Two)

1919. The War is over, but life is far from normal. While the imminent danger is gone for many, it is not gone for Emma Swan. Her secrets have always been dangerous and had the ability to control her, but they have never been more dangerous than now as she is forced to work undercover as a barmaid and keep her true intentions hidden from the most notorious gang leader in England.

Her life depends on it, but unfortunately for Emma, Killian Jones can read her better than anyone ever has.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I know, I know, we thought my days of you guys convincing me to continue one-shots were over 😉 In all seriousness, I did not intend to do this and wasn’t going to, but my mind started working and here we are.

We pick up with our favorite duo (and Lee, lol) on their journey to America! Thanks to @shireness-says and @resident-of-storybrooke for helping me out a little on this🖤

Ao3: Part One | Part Two

Tumblr: Part One

-/-

1920.

Emma has never hated the sea more.

When she was a child, it was her favorite place in the world. The insides of orphanages and homes were dull with broken furniture and scratchy blankets, and when she could get away, she would try to find the ocean. There was a rare time in her life where she lived near the shore, and every day she breathed in the salt air and looked out onto the water with the hope that more was out there and with the hope that she wouldn’t always be so alone.

The sea was her safe haven.

Now it is her enemy.

One of many, if she’s honest. Her childhood dreams have become her waking nightmare. She’s spent fifteen days on the ocean on her way to a new country, but all she wants is to be back in England in the comfort of her bed in her grungy little flat she thought she hated. Every day feels a little closer to her last, like Gold is on her heels, a gun pressed to her temple.

Her thoughts have run wild with fear. What if he was fast enough and followed them? What if he’s on the next ship to America? What if he’s found William or Rob and hurt them?

What if he’s found her son and hurt him?

She doesn’t keep up with him, knowing that each bit of information about him breaks her a little more. She wasn’t ready to be a mother, still isn’t, and it isn’t fair to the kid for her to check up on him. She gave him up for him to have his best chance, for him to have a good life, and from what she’s seen, he’s had that.

Emma is terrified that her running away is going to strip that good life away from him, and she should have thought more about that before she allowed Killian to pay for their passage on this ship. Hopefully his parents have enough protections that everything will be fine, but she knows that just because they work in the government with Gold doesn’t mean he’s safe.

Gold will obviously betray anyone, but she hopes he has limits when it comes to a child.

Her stomach turns as they move over a rough patch of ocean, and she wraps her hands around the railings as another breeze washes over her. Her nose is red with chill, her toes curling under themselves in her boots, and suddenly the temperature warms, a solid body closing in on hers, an arm wrapping around her shoulder and pulling her closer as unshaven whiskers prickle against her temple.

“You’ll be nothing but an icicle if you stay out here, love,” Killian tells her as the ocean roars around them.

“And why would you care about that?” Emma bristles.

He sighs. “Please come back to the cabin.”

Emma pulls away from Killian, gooseflesh bubbling up her arms and a shiver wrapping around her spine. She doesn’t feel like having him near her or going back to the cabin. Escaping closeness to Killian is the reason she left the warmth of the cabin to begin with. “I don’t want to come back to the cabin.”

“You are going to freeze.”

“It is a hell of a lot warmer out here than it is in there.”

“You speak in falsities.”

She does, but she won’t admit that.

Emma cocks her head and rolls her eyes before looking at the ocean again. According to the Captain and several crew members, they should be in New York either tonight or tomorrow morning, and Emma cannot wait to step foot on dry land again. She doesn’t know what their plans are for when they get there, but she knows that even if she doesn’t stay with Killian, she has enough money to get her lodgings and food for at least a few months. She hopes that she’ll be back in England by then. Or another country in Europe.

“I don’t.”

Killian’s lips press into a firm line, and the lines on his forehead appear. She’s seen that look more than she would care for, and she doesn’t care to see it now. “Swan.”

“No. I don’t want to go back to the fucking cabin, Killian. I’ve been in there for two weeks with you and Lee, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of having to listen to Lee complain, and I’m exhausted from having to figure out when you’re going to ignore me or not. I sleep with your chest pressed to my back every night, and I’ve never felt so alone.”

“What exactly is it that you want from me?”

Emma throws her hands up in the air as they hit another rough wave and Emma’s stomach churns. This fucking ship. “I want you to make up your mind, Killian. Do you want to kill me for betraying you? Do you want to fuck me? Do you want both? Because I don’t know, and I need to know what I’m dealing with. Because if I’m going to die, do it now so I don’t have to suffer on this ship any longer.”

He takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest, his coat shifting with the movement. Emma watches as his hair blows in the wind, long black strands whipping together then apart. He hasn’t shaved for these two weeks, his skin is paler, and there are purple bags underneath his eyes. Even with the striking blue, his eyes are tired, sad, and Emma likes to convince herself that he is just as confused and affected by everything like she is. He has to be, but then again, Emma has never known Killian to be unsure of anything.

His power is in his sureness. His steadiness.

It is all rocking beneath their feet.

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not going to kill you. That has never been in question.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Bloody hell! I don’t know, Swan! You cannot expect me to have everything between us figured out in a fortnight when I’m aware of the fact that I’ve known you since June and yet all of it has been a lie.”

“It hasn’t all been a lie.”

“What hasn’t been?” he counters, his voice still raised, and she notices the crowd around them turning their heads to look. Their conversation has piqued the interest of the ship, and Emma doesn’t want that. She cannot have this conversation with people watching, listening, judging her. “I need to know because I cannot be a fool who is brought down by giving my trust and my heart to someone who hasn’t bothered to do the same.”

“What you mean to say is you cannot be a fool who is brought down by a woman.”

Killian scoffs and steps toward her, pressing his hand into the small of her back. It’s a feather of a touch beneath her layers of clothes, but she can still feel it, warmth permeating through. “Let’s go back to our cabin.”

“Is Lee there?”

“No.”

Emma nods and begins walking through the crowd until they come across the staircase that leads them below deck and to their cabin. They’re in the middle of the hall, and she has to kick the door open until she’s in the small space that has nothing more than two small beds and a dresser that is bolted into the floor. There were more luxurious rooms as well as ones without privacy, but Killian didn’t want to waste money when they don’t have much of a plan for what to do when they arrive in New York. Well, he might have a plan. Before they left he managed to send a letter to Liam as well as making several phone calls, but Emma wasn’t privy to any of that information. She was still trying to wrap her head around the previous twenty-four hours of her life.

The door clicks closed behind them, and Emma settles down on Lee’s bed while Killian sits opposite her on their bed, his knees hitting hers. In reality, it’s much warmer down here, and the shivers that were taking over her begin to dissipate.

Emma loves this man sitting across from her. She loves the blue of his eyes, the quirk of his smile, the scars lining his skin. She loves the way his mouth feels when it’s on her, the way he feels inside of her. She loves the way he tells a story, the way he makes her laugh until her stomach hurts, and the way that despite their history, he makes her comfortable for the first time in her life.

No part of her is comfortable right now.

Sucking in a deep breath of air, Emma looks up from her twiddling fingers and to an expectant Killian. She doesn’t know what he wants from her or what she can give him, so she begins with the basics, the history that is unchanged no matter how much she wishes to change it. “I was born in Brighton. I don’t know of my parents. I was raised in homes until I left to be on my own at sixteen. That’s when I became pregnant, and everything after that has been me working for Gold. He gave me my education out of necessity for the job, and everything I own has been his doing. A part of me sometimes feels like everything I am is his doing.” Emma shrugs and clasps her hands together. “I can’t think of any specific lie I’ve told you. I have learned it’s easier to keep track of things if I only tell the truth, even if it means cutting some details short. The only lie was my intentions and why I walked into My Fairest Lady.”

“How old are you now?” Killian asks.

“I turned twenty-four in October.”

He hums and leans back, closing his eyes so his dark lashes fall against his cheeks. “So Gold has had you under his thumb for eight years then?”

“Yes.”

“He’s a coward of a man,” Killian growls, but his eyes stay closed. “His wife, my Milah, was tired of the way he paid her no attention. She wanted out of the marriage. She wanted…she wanted to do many things with her life, but he wouldn’t let her leave. When she did, he murdered her in front of me and then set the building on fire. I nearly lost my hand trying to save her. I’ve never understood why he went away after that, why he was waiting to catch me in an illegal act. He could have pulled the trigger at any moment, but he didn’t.”

“Do you have an idea as to why?”

One eye opens, and his foot hooks around her ankle. “I think he believed that living on the edge of fear would be a greater torture than instant death, but I fear neither him nor death. He should fear me for what I’m going to do when I see him again.”

The venom in Killian’s voice has Emma’s shivers return. This is a man set out for vengeance, a man who wants to take a life, and as much as she would like to do the same for all Gold has done to her, she doesn’t know if she can.

Emma has feared death for years, and all she wants is to live without shackles holding her down.

“How do you despise Gold but love me?” Emma asks. “I worked for him. I could have been the reason you were murdered.”

“You had no choice, love.” He leans forward, invading her space, and his breath comes up in a white puff of air between them. She can smell the rum he must have had earlier. “I never once thought I would love again after Milah. My heart was black, and there was no room for that sort of thing, especially after the War. My only job in life is to keep the Jones Corporation alive and make sure it continues when I’m gone, but then you walked into the pub and sang as you poured a drink for Leroy. Something shifted inside of me then. I cannot give you my full trust, love. Not yet. And I cannot guarantee that there will be no strife between us because I am still trying to figure what the hell is going on in my mind, but I would like to imagine there is a world where you and I can have the simple pleasures in life.”

He leans back and laughs, clicking his tongue. “Well, at least on occasion. I don’t think you and I are set for a life with a white picket fence and nothing to worry us.”

“I’d like that,” Emma smiles, “I think. It’d be nice not to worry.”

Killian leans forward and reaches his hand out. She takes it and is pulled into him, settling her knees on either side of his hips and she settles in his lap. His lips ghost over the bare skin of her neck, his hand tugging away her scarf until there’s more skin for him to devour, and Emma lets him. She does not know what is between them or what will come next, but for now, she can forget about all of that.

She hasn’t felt good like that for two weeks, and the chill that’s been constant on her skin has been both from the ocean and from Killian, his shoulder turned to her even when he’s pressed against her.

“Swan,” he whispers, almost reverent, as her hands reach underneath his coat and start to take it off. “What are you doing?”

“Do you have to fully trust me for us to do this?”

His breath is warm against her, his teeth sharp with her skin, but his nose is soft as it presses into the hollow of her throat to speak. “No.” He helps her push his coat off, and now she can feel the muscles in his back. “You don’t have to fully trust me either, love, but one day, we’ll do this with no barriers between us.”

Emma’s nails scratch against his skin. “What a glorious day that will be.”

Killian kisses her until she’s dizzy, touches her until she’s breathless, and he moves inside of her until she’s fully warm, sweat beading at her temples and the small of her back. Killian’s weight above her is a comfort, his hand on her thigh is a guide, urging her to lift it higher so he can sink deeper, and his voice is a melody of a song that is familiar but the lyrics are floating away, so close, but far enough away for her to not be able to reach.

She doesn’t care.

Not when she finally might have someone who could want to be hers.

“Oi, did you see what they’re serving in the dining hall?” Lee groans as he pushes his way into the room with little preamble. “It’s nothing more than stale bread. I – oh, fuck off,” he mumbles as Killian shifts over Emma to cover her and pulls the sheets over his arse. He chuckles into her neck, and Emma presses her lips to his cheek. “I have to share this cabin with the two of you. Have a little compassion.”

“Lee, go back to the fucking dining hall and get us some bread,” Killian mumbles, pulling away from her neck and winking.

“Did you not hear me when I said it was stale?”

“Are you so obtuse that you do not realize that the lady and I need our privacy?”

“I expect my own room whenever we get to New York.”

“You’ll be lucky if I don’t leave you on the streets. Now go.”

Lee curses underneath his breath, but he quickly leaves the room, the cabin door clicking behind him. Killian’s jaw clenches, and Emma reaches up to caress it, her fingers dancing along his skin, coaxing him back to her.

“Would you really leave your brother in the streets in a foreign country?”

“Eh,” Killian clicks his tongue, “possibly. He has a few lessons he needs to learn.”

Emma sighs and closes her eyes before pressing her lips to the underside of his jaw. “Promise me you won’t leave Lee on the streets…unless he insults me because I’m a woman again. Then he can spend some time away from us.”

“That is a promise I can make,” Killian chuckles.

-/-

When they step on dry land the next day, Emma’s legs nearly crumble beneath her. America is a foreign land, and while the soil should feel the same as England, it doesn’t.

She doesn’t know how it feels or what to feel, and Emma doesn’t fully process everything that happens once they leave the ship. She fills out papers, careful only to give as much information as is necessary, and she watches as Killian puts in false information. She should have done the same, but it’s too late now.

Hopefully Gold will never make the voyage here and if he does, he won’t come through this port and check the records.

She doesn’t know where to go, but Killian does, taking them to a line of smaller boats that are going to take them into Manhattan. The thought of getting on another boat makes her stomach queasy, but she does it anyway, keeping her luggage in her lap. When they’re on land again, they start walking, wandering through bustling streets that are full of more people than Emma ever saw in Birmingham. As they move and her feet begin to ache in her boots, she watches as the clothes and the hair change, going from dull and much like hers to bright and extravagant. The buildings change too: fresh paint, doormen, nice cars waiting on the outside. It’s two different worlds, and from everything she’s heard, there are more worlds within this place. It’s divided between classes and race, and Killian walks through every section like he belongs.

He knows not a soul, but Emma swears some who pass by look as if they know who he is, what he does.

The chill that runs down her spine and makes residence there returns as she thinks once more of why they are here, of what they’re running from.

She’s been running for her entire life, but she’s never run this far.

She’s never had someone to run with.

They stop at a small restaurant for something fresh to eat, the aroma of fresh baked bread overpowering the scents of the city, and Emma nearly melts into the leather booth that sits by a warm fire. Killian orders their lunch, nicely cooked beef with a heavy soup and bread, and the taste is so miraculous that even Lee is quiet for the duration of the meal. He’s been complaining, wishing he would have stayed back in England and traveled to see Liam and Elsa instead of coming to America, but unless he wants to get back on the ship and travel back now, he is stuck with them.

Emma isn’t too fond of the kid, but at the end of the day, he is still a kid who has time left until he’s technically a man. Even growing up in times of war in a family that is entrenched in crime and danger, he still has the soft edges of a child who has been raised without a mother and is searching for someone to guide them.

Emma would know. She’s been searching for her entire life, and she did not have any brothers to surround herself with.

The couple who owns the restaurant comes to say hello and ask if they would like any more food, and when they hear the differing accents, they begin to ask questions. It puts Emma on edge, as if these two people who radiate kindness could know they are on the run, and she doesn’t like to answer with anything more than the minimum. Killian is much better at talking to them, eloquently giving them enough information without giving too much, and she does not fail to notice the way he keeps her left hand in his, hidden underneath the table.

“My wife and I are thrilled to be starting a new life here,” Killian tells them, squeezing her hand, a silent request for her to play along. “It seems we’ve already picked the greatest restaurant in the city to dine in, so we are off to a wonderful start.”

“Oh, how long have you two been married?” the woman, a petite brunette with short hair asks.

“Newlyweds,” Killian answers. “What about the two of you?”

“David, how long has it been now? Five years?”

“It was five years in October.” David kisses his wife’s temple, and Emma moves closer to Killian, glancing at him in an attempt to see what angle he’s playing. “Best five years of my life.”

“And you’ve opened up this damn fine establishment in this time?”

“If only,” Mary Margaret laughs, holding her hand to her chest. “My parents own several businesses across the city, and when we were married, they gave David a few of their finer dining establishments to manage. Where are you two living? We could give you all of the best recommendations.”

“We haven’t figured that out yet, love, but I’m sure we will find a place.”

“Stay with us!” Mary Margaret suggests, rising on her toes in excitement.

“Pardon?” Killian asks as Emma coughs on her drink and Lee kicks his leg under the table.

“Stay with us,” Mary Margaret repeats. David doesn’t look thrilled at her suggestion, but she’s powering on. “We live in an apartment a few blocks away, and it is far too big for just the two of us. You could have your own bedrooms, bathrooms, and living area. We would have to share the kitchen, but I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem, would it, honey?”

“We couldn’t impose,” Killian insists, laying on every ounce of charm he has with his smile.

“My wife won’t take no for an answer, so believe me, you wouldn’t be imposing. We’d love to help get you on your feet. Maybe one day if we make it over to England, you two could be our guide.”

“Absolutely, mate,” Killian promises, squeezing Emma’s hand.

-/-

When Mary Margaret mentioned her family owning several businesses and restaurants, Emma knew they were wealthy. It was obvious in the way the woman dressed and the way she spoke, but as Emma sits on a bed with blankets as soft as silk and as warm as every coat she has ever owned, she is taken aback by the luxury of the place they are in. Emma has never been in a palace, but she imagines the Nolan flat is similar. Everything is ornate, no detail left unchecked, and being inside here is a different world than the outside. Even where the city is bustling and bright, there is still a darkness to it with the rarity of nature. It’s not Birmingham with its lack of sun and smog-coated air, but there are similarities.

This flat is a world away from any place she has ever stayed, and she imagines once they leave, she’ll never return.

If she’s honest with herself, Emma is worried her clothes are going to ruin the furniture every time she sits down.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret calls as she enters the room, a basket in her arms. “I know you likely have your own things, but I figured you could use some soaps and lotions. I also brought a robe. I have several, and I can only wear one at a time.”

“That really isn’t necessary.”

“I insist.” She walks a little further into the room and places the things on a low table. “The boys are having a drink together and talking business. You know how men do. So I figured I could make sure you’re comfortable.”

“This is the nicest place I’ve ever been inside, so yes, I am more than comfortable.”

“Good.” Mary Margaret smiles, and sits down on the arm of a sofa. “Listen. I don’t know if you’re interested in working or if Killian is the breadwinner for you and Lee, but if you are, I have connections with every department store and several offices where you could be a secretary. What did you do back in England? Did you work? I know it is rare for married women to work, but I take you for a rare woman.”

“I was a barmaid,” Emma lies. She was, technically, but for years before that she was blackmailed into being a spy. A part of her doesn’t feel free of that yet. “I was a barmaid and sometimes I would clean homes.”

“Oh, well, if you want to work in one of our restaurants, I could arrange that. Or you don’t have to do anything at all. What does your husband do?”

Emma blanches, and she inhales to calm her breathing. “He produced rum, owned a few pubs. It’s a family trade, actually. After the War, Killian and his older brother took over, but Killian wanted to explore the world for a little while and allow Lee to experience new things and mature. I don’t think Lee expected that would mean traveling with the two of us.”

“Is that how you and Killian met? At one of his pubs?”

“Yes.” Emma nods and smiles, rubbing her hands up and down her arms to smooth away the gooseflesh. “That’s how we met.”

“Do you not wear a ring?”

Emma’s fists clinch, and she attempts to hide her left hand, wrapping it under her arm. “Oh, it’s in my luggage. I didn’t want to risk losing it or having someone take it off my hand.”

Mary Margaret nods and returns Emma’s smile, hopefully believing her lie. “Anyhow, I don’t mean to be intrusive. I’ll leave you to bathe and take care of yourself. Would you like to have breakfast with me in the morning?”

“I would love that.”

Once Mary Margaret has left the room, Emma rises from the bed and collects the things she left. The bathroom is connected to the room, and the tile is cold against Emma’s feet. The bathwater is warm, however, the lotions all smell of vanilla and apples. After she’s bathed, Emma’s skin is softer than it’s ever been, and the dark shadows that have been lingering underneath her eyes for two weeks have begun to fade. She’s clean and comfortable, and she melts into the sheets when she gets into bed. Emma doesn’t know what time it is when Killian sulks into the room, but what she does know is that he never comes to bed. Instead, he sleeps on the chaise in the corner of the room and she’s left with no warm body pressed into hers.

Emma’s confusion grows, but at the moment, all she cares about is how she is sleeping with solid ground beneath her.

-/-

There’s a note and a box sitting next to her head when she wakes up the next morning.

Wear this. The Nolans are traditional. That is why I said we were married in the eatery. I realized in my conversations with David that we would need rings and to discuss a few details to align our stories. I don’t want to take advantage of them or their kindness, but as you well know, sometimes lies can be used to get us what we need.

Killian.

Emma squints her eyes to see if the words change, but they don’t. The words don’t change, and Killian’s lack of presence in the room doesn’t change either. She doesn’t know what time it is or where he is, but she knows he’s not here.

She also knows that inside the black velvet box is a ring, a gold band holding up a round emerald stone. It’s delicate and intricate, and even with her untrained eye, she knows it is real.

-/-

Emma’s day is spent with Mary Margaret in the flat and in another one of their restaurants where they eat lunch. They chat and wander around, and Mary Margaret shows Emma her collection of books as well as some paints and fabrics she uses to occupy her time when she cannot drive to her family’s land where they have horses and a bow and arrow course where Mary Margaret apparently likes to spend much of her time.

Emma never would have figured the woman for enjoying so much time outdoors, and the past near decade of Emma’s life has been spent reading people for their secrets.

Killian returns long after the sun has set, Lee and David with him, and David informs all of them that Killian will now be handling the books at several restaurants until he establishes himself in the city. Lee will work as waitstaff when he can, but they want to work on him enrolling in University.

It all sounds great, but to Emma, it sounds like she’s been left out and that she’ll have to piddle around all day with nothing to do but talk about fabrics and the latest fashions with Mary Margaret.

Emma isn’t used to not working, and she’s going to need something to occupy her time if she doesn’t want her mind to run wild. Working in a department store or as a secretary sounds dreadful, but she may have to take the offers she can get.

-/-

“Do you like it?”

“Hmm?”

“The ring. Do you like it?”

Emma glances down at the stone on her finger, the heavy weight she’s been fiddling with all day, and she turns back to Killian as his arms wrap around her waist and his lips press into her neck.

“It’s beautiful. Where did you get it? How did you get it so early in the morning?”

“I have my ways.”

“Killian.”

He doesn’t say anything back, instead kissing her until no thoughts are left in her brain and no clothes are left on her body. They fall into the back and forth, the push and the pull, and Emma’s left breathless as she moves on top of him, every problem melting away into the firmness of Killian and the comfort she feels with him.

The pleasure too, especially when his head is buried between her thighs, and Emma can do nothing more than hold onto his hair as tightly as she is holding on the sheets.

-/-

When she wakes up in the morning, he’s gone, and she’s not sure if he slept next to her or not. The blanket hanging over the chaise makes her think otherwise.

-/-

Emma takes the next few days to explore the city. As kind as Mary Margaret is, she cannot spend all of her time with the woman, and she certainly cannot commit to a job when she isn’t sure which would make her less miserable. So, she walks and explores, listening to people play music from street corners and coax people into their stores. It’s as if the people never sleep and more and more come in each and every day. Emma thrives in it, even if she stays in the corners and observes.

So much of her life has been spent with a gun pressed to the back of her head, and for once, she has been relieved of the cold weight of the metal.

She isn’t sure how to deal with any of it.

Days begin to pass, and Emma spends many of them wandering, even more of them sitting by a large window with a pile of books next to her as she stares out at the snow falling outside and coating the streets with a white powder. Killian comes and goes, sometimes coming back for meals in the middle of the day, sometimes not, and a week after arriving, Emma tells Mary Margaret she would love to work in one of their eateries as a barmaid or a server, even if that is uncommon in America.

That’s when all hell breaks loose, and the government passes laws about the sale of alcohol.

The prohibition, they call it.

Bloody pointless, Killian calls it.

Every night at dinner, Killian and David discuss how not being able to sell alcohol is affecting the restaurants. Mary Margaret’s father comes by one night in a rage of fury that is only quenched when he realizes Killian, Emma, and Lee are there, and it seems that the little slice of paradise they’ve found may be disappearing.

“Should we look for somewhere else to stay?” Emma asks as she rubs lotion down her arms, vanilla filling the bathroom. “I know the Nolans will never lose their money because they owned more than pubs and eateries, but I can’t help but feel we’re taking advantage of them.”

Killian moves a blade across his jaw as he stares in the mirror. “The only lie we’ve told them is about the state of our relationship, love.”

“That’s quite the lie.”

“I don’t think it’s too far fetched.”

Emma turns to him and crosses her arms over her chest. “We are not married, Killian. We are so far from married that we don’t sleep in the same bed. Actually, I take that back. From what I’ve heard of some couples, we might as well be married in that you fuck me and then leave. So I guess you’re right. We’re not lying to them.”

He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he finishes his shave and puts the blade down near the sink before turning to her with a clenched jaw and fire in his eyes. “What is it you’re trying to say, Swan?”

“I don’t think I have to bloody explain it!”

Killian cocks his head to the side and mirrors her, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “So, you’re cross that I’m not sleeping in the bed with you?”

“I think it’s preposterous that you sleep in a chaise when we have a bed.”

“I think that’s not what you’re truly mad about.”

“Well, what would you know about what I think?”

“You’re an open book, Swan. I’ve told you that before, and I’ll tell you again. You try to hide how you feel, but you cannot do that from me.”

“Well, that makes you a real arse because then you would know that I’m not happy to be wandering around this place all day with Mary Margaret. I’m not someone who is meant to be a housewife.”

“I thought you were tending the bar at – ”

“I obviously lost that job, Killian. We can’t sell liquor.”

Emma turns away from him and catches a look at herself in the mirror. Her hair is long and soft, brushed out and curled, and it’s never been like this, never this smooth and well taken care of. Half a month in a new place, and she already looks like a different person.

“I don’t like not having work,” Emma continues, “and I don’t like that I’m in a new country and the man I came here with runs off and spends all his time in business I know nothing about.”

Killian scoffs and drops his hands to his sides. “Need I remind you that we are here because you got yourself involved with Gold.”

“Need I remind you that you slept with his wife and are a gangster. I didn’t make him come after you like that. You know I had no fucking choice, Killian. I was trying not to die or to have my son killed! You have always had a choice in your actions. This is not my fault.”

“You betrayed me,” Killian says, his voice steady even as his fingers twitch, the ring on his left hand catching the light from the lamp above. “You betrayed me. You worked with my enemy, you lied to me for months, and you made me believe you were getting close to me because you fancied me. Little did I know that it was because you were trying to learn all of my secrets so I could be carted off to prison while you continued to live your life.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“I know.”

Emma throws her hands in the air and covers her face, trying to regulate her breathing to calm her breath.

She is not successful.

“So what do you want, Killian? I can’t keep having this conversation. I can’t keep walking on the edge of a cliff. I want some stability. I want to not be terrified all the time, and not knowing where I stand with you terrifies me. If it would be better for us to part ways, let’s part ways. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life feeling like you’re never going to trust me. I’m tired of us running in circles and not solving anything.”

Killian moves her hands away from her face, calloused fingers cupping her chin and tilting her gaze up to his. His eyes are still dark, his mouth still firm, but there’s a softness there that wasn’t there before. “I am not an honorable man, love, and you deserve better than me. You deserve to live a good life with a man who can give you everything your heart desires and who doesn’t have so many secrets.”

“Tell me your secrets,” Emma whispers. “Tell me, and I’ll tell you the rest of mine. That’s the only way we can make this work, and if we can’t, I can find my way back home or to a new place. I’ve always been on my own, and I don’t have any problem with that.”

Killian leans his head forward and presses his forehead against hers, wet hair dripping onto her. “I should hate you. You should hate me for how I’ve treated you over the past month, for how I treat others.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“No?”

“I think you’ve been a right bastard lately, but I also think I deserve it.”

“You don’t.” Emma chuckles, and Killian presses his nose further into her cheek. His lips inch closer, but they don’t touch, not yet. “We’re fucked up, Swan. There’s no way around that.”

“But we could be less fucked up if we tried.”

Killian huffs and gently kisses her. “Will you come to bed with me?”

“Well, as long as we get into bed and not your chaise.”

“Aye, I think that sounds like a better plan. The bloody thing has been straining my back.”

Nothing about their relationship has ever been normal, and as they settle under the covers of their oversized bed, Emma is once again reminded of that. They’ve never had this, not like this. They had their night in the pub, which was interrupted, and then they were forced to share space on the ship. Here, Killian has only come to bed for sex, and then he’s moved to his own space.

This is foreign, especially as Emma rolls over to face Killian and finds him already looking at her with his hand reaching out for her hip underneath the covers.

“The night we first slept together,” Emma begins, “why’d you have to get that gun that night?”

He slowly blinks. “Rob needed it the next day for a job, and it wouldn’t have been smart to go digging in graveyards in the daylight.”

“What was the job?”

Killian raises his brow. “Someone made an attempt on his lady’s life, and he needed to take care of it. I was the only one who knew the location of the guns, so it had to be me who retrieved it.”

Emma nods and moves an inch closer as Killian’s thumb traces circles on her hip. “Will you tell me more? About everything? As if I was one of your brothers and in the inner circle?”

Killian huffs and squeezes her hip. “You are certainly not one of my brothers, and thank fuck for that.”

“So crude,” Emma laughs.

“I’ve never claimed to be otherwise. My life isn’t pretty. Are you sure you want to hear it all?”

“No secrets,” Emma repeats. “That’s what I want. Keeping them has gotten us nowhere.”

So, he tells her. He tells her of how his family has been in the business for generations. They used to be wealthier, but they fell apart under his grandfather’s guidance. His father, who Killian holds no affection for, was ruthless and his ruthlessness elevated the Jones Corporation to the levels it once held in the past. He made the relationships with the coppers, figured out how to hide illegal dealings in legal ones, and it is with all of his teachings that Killian learned everything he knows.

It is with Killian’s hatred of him that Killian has learned to do everything better than his father.

It is his love of his mum that kept Killian from living his entire life in the pursuit of money and revenge. After he lost Milah, all he wanted was revenge on Gold and every person who had done him wrong, but then the War happened and Killian saw more evil in the world than he had ever seen before. It changed him, and while violence is still necessary in his line or work, he does everything he can to avoid it or minimize the carnage.

Killian tells her so much of everything she’s never heard before, and as each minute passes, the man in front of her changes, a chameleon that she is attempting to keep up with.

She does the same.

She tells him everything she can think to tell in the dark of night when sleep is creeping into the edges of her eyes, and she knows in the morning she won’t remember each word she utters and each story she tells. But in the morning her heart will be lighter, and maybe, just maybe, she and Killian can be lighter too.

For good this time, with all of the trust they did not have when exchanging stories on the ship.

-/-

He drives her across the city in the morning, not telling her the destination, but she recognizes Harlem and the way it differs from Fifth Avenue almost immediately. The buildings are smaller, not as luxurious, the people are more diverse, and the streets are filled with children playing and more street performers than in the main parts of Manhattan.

It is more like what Emma is used to, and it creates a stark divide between the wealthy and the normal.

She imagines she would like to live here more than in the Nolans’ flat.

“Was that Lee?” Emma asks as they drive past a small block of apartments. “Isn’t he supposed to be in classes?”

“He gets time off, and the lass he fancies lives here. That is not what I’m trying to show you no matter how interesting the lad’s love life may be.”

What he is trying to show her is an empty café, the black and white tile work half done but no one around to finish it. Despite the obviously new tile, it looks abandoned. “What is this place?”

Killian takes her hand, interlacing their fingers, and walks her through the café and toward the back wall. He presses against it. There’s a click, and then the wall is sliding open. Killian guides her through the hidden door, which makes her heart ache for the My Fairest Lady back home, and then they’re walking down a hallway and down a set of stairs until they’re in what looks like a combination of a pub and a dance hall. It’s darker and full of stained wood, and the lights are dim. There are no windows, but she does see several doors behind curtains and counters.

“Killian – ” Emma begins as he turns on more lights. “Killian, please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

He turns to her and flashes his trademark smile, the one that could get her to do anything without a word muttered from his lips. “It’s a speakeasy.”

They’ve been popping up across the city ever since the ban on liquor was announced, and she should have known this is what Killian has been doing.

Emma shakes her head. “You’re a scoundrel.”

“Dashing rapscallion. I prefer that.” He winks and takes both of her hands in his. “I don’t know how long we’re going to be here. I’ve wired and written Liam and Will, and they both say they’ve heard whispers of Gold searching for me, for us. Liam is staying in France for a longer time to protect Elsa. Will and Rob are taking care of the businesses. I don’t have everything figured out yet, but I thought we should make the best of our time here.”

“You’re going to get arrested. You don’t have the coppers in your pockets here. Do you know what you’re doing?”

“This is who I am, Emma. This is what I do. I find ways to maneuver around the bloody system when I can. I know many a lass expects a man to change and become softer when he falls in love, but I do not want to give up who I am.”

“I would never ask you to do that.”

“Then trust me,” he insists, cocking his head and smiling, a real, genuine smile this time. “I know what I’m doing, and this is an opportunity for me, for us. If I don’t do it, someone else will. You can help me. You can be by my side, fully this time. It’ll be similar to how I ran things back home.”

“That nearly got you killed.”

“I don’t think a spy is going to maneuver her way into my life and seduce me.”

Emma tilts her head back with laughter. “She better not.”

Killian tugs her closer until they’re pressed together, and he glides his lips over hers as his hand slides down her back and rests in the dip. He’s gentle and demanding all at once, and he could convince her of anything with one kiss.

One kiss, one smile, one turn of phrase.

“We make quite the team, love.”

“We’ll have to see about that.”

-/-

Over the next few weeks and months, Emma watches as Killian works his magic on this place. Out front, construction continues on the café, a place that will sell sandwiches, sweets, tea, and coffee at a quick pace to compete with other cafes, and in the hidden halls behind and below, the dark room is finished and transformed into a pub that Emma would have wandered into in England with little question. It’s beautiful, and when it’s full of people and records are at full blast, Emma can feel the life vibrating through her skin.

New York City is unlike any place she’s ever been before, more alive than any place else, but hidden in the back of a café with Killian’s arm around her waist and a drink in her hand as people dance around her, Emma knows that she partially feels that way because of the man she’s with.

He brings out color in things that are black and white, and she could dance and laugh with him forever.

The money comes in like nothing she’s ever seen, and Liam brings in barrels of rum and whiskey from England. It’s a coordinated effort that nearly goes awry at the port, but they manage it. For a week, Liam, Lee, and Killian are reunited, and since Liam brought Elsa, Emma takes her to meet Mary Margaret, who insists on taking them shopping and to get their hair done before they dine in a park, the new spring flowers beginning to bloom. Mary Margaret and David have no idea as to what goes on behind the scenes of one of their businesses, and Emma hopes they never do. She’s grown overly fond of the couple, and they’re good people. She doesn’t like taking advantage of that kindness, and after much warring in her heart, she’s decided that she won’t tell them about any of it. Their ignorance is for their safety.

That isn’t a thought she has too often, though. She’s too busy helping Killian by making sure everything runs smoothly. Every day more people come to their speakeasy. Lately, it’s been full of singers and actors who are in the pictures and on Broadway, and Emma knows they’re gaining a reputation as one of the best places for drinks and music. As good as business is, that also comes with its own dangers. With more notoriety comes more of a chance of the coppers finding out, but with his impossible charm, Killian has managed to get them in his pocket as well. It hasn’t been easy, and there have been times when she’s not sure Killian is going to return to their bed at night.

He always does, laying a kiss on her cheek before he falls into a slumber right before the sunrise.

Elsa and Liam return back to Europe after a wonderful week, taking Lee with them after his schooling period finishes, but Emma and Killian don’t join them on their return. Rumors of Gold run rampant through Birmingham. Few have seen him, but Liam told Killian yet again that the threat on his life is still prominent. It would be better to stay until they can locate Gold and take care of their problem. Liam looked at Emma with disgust when he said it, like every danger toward Killian was her own fault, but she knows that Gold’s history with Killian predates Emma. His deciding to murder Killian, however, does not, and she never allows that to slip from her mind. Emma doesn’t think Liam likes her much, likely thinks her too much trouble, and she wouldn’t disagree.

She never was too fond of Liam, but after he assures her that her son is safe with his parents living life completely unaware of his birth mother’s troubles, she thinks she has never loved anyone more.

She won't let anything bad happen to that child. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

When Mary Margaret announces she’s pregnant in May, Killian makes the decision that he and Emma are going to move to their own place. The Nolans insist that they stay. They like having them around, but it truly is the best for them to find their own home. Emma promises that she will see Mary Margaret every week and that she will be sure to shower her baby with all of the finest things.

“Are you two thinking about children?” Mary Margaret asks as she cradles her bump. “You would be a wonderful mother, Emma.”

“Maybe someday,” Emma insists, trying to keep her voice steady when it wants to waver. “Maybe someday.”

Killian takes her hand, warm palm over the cool metal of her ring, and squeezes before guiding her out of the Nolans’ apartment and to the car that’s waiting to take them to their new home, a brownstone away from Fifth Avenue but still close enough that Emma can easily walk everywhere she needs to go.

Their furniture has already been placed, food stocked in the cupboard and the icebox, and while now would usually be the time for them both to go to the café, Killian assures her that someone else is taking care of it for the night. They can take the night off to relax into their new home and make it theirs.

Emma quickly learns what he means by that when his hand cups the back of her head as he pushes her into the door. She laughs into the kiss as Killian murmurs filthy words, but soon she’s breathless. Each touch, each whisper, each kiss builds her higher, and by the time they’re in their bed and stripped out of their clothes, Emma is dizzy in the desire for it all.

As she moves above him, each thrust of his hips and movement of hers bringing them closer, all Emma can think about is how she’s home.

This is her first true one, and it is nothing like any of her dreams told her it would be.

“I love you,” she whispers to Killian as her nails leave red marks on his chest.

“And I you,” he promises, bringing her down to meld their lips together.

-/-

Emma’s staring at the ceiling of her bedroom, soft sheets strewn over half her body, and Killian’s leg is half hooked over hers, his breathing coming down from heavy until she can barely hear it at all. Emma reaches out for him, placing her hand on his chest, and Killian reaches for it and brings it to his lips to kiss.

“Do you like your ring?” he asks.

“Hmmm?”

“Your ring. Do you like it?”

Emma lifts her hand away from Killian’s and moves her fingers, watching the gold and emerald glint in the lamplight. For so long this ring felt foreign on her. It felt like more of a lie than it was, but now, when she takes the ring off to bathe or to clean, it’s as if something is missing from her.

“It’s beautiful.” Emma flips over onto her stomach, her breasts pressing against Killian’s chest, and she props herself up on her elbow to look both at Killian and the ring. “How did you get it so quickly? You left it by the bed so early in the morning. I don’t think any jewelers were open before the sun rose, and you didn’t answer the first time I asked.”

He clicks his tongue and presses his head back to the pillow. His hair is messy from where her hands were running through it, and she can see some of the lines around his eyes and the few that have started to form on his forehead. She realizes now that she has no idea how old he is. He was born in August, but she doesn’t know what year. He asked her about her age, but she never thought to do the same.

“It was my mum’s.”

Emma stops tapping her fingers against his chest and looks at Killian. “What?”

“Your ring was my mum’s. She had it made for herself, and she wore it every day. When she was sick, she gave Liam her wedding ring, and she gave me this one. We were instructed that we were to give the rings to the women we married, and, well…”

Killian arches his brows, as if he wants Emma to fill in the blanks, and Emma drops down and rests her hands on his chest and her chin over her knuckles so her eyes are on the same level as him.

“We’re not married.”

“Aye, but…” Killian tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, and his left hand finds her back, cool metal running against her skin. “We could be. I could make an honest woman out of you.”

“I think you and I both know neither of us will ever be honest.”

Killian chuckles. “We’re honest with each other, and that’s enough for me.”

Emma’s heart is beating in a faster rhythm than a jazz band, and yet, she feels calm.

She feels steady, and her home is so much more than the four walls around them.

“Would you really want me as your wife? All I seem to do is get you into trouble.”

“Ah, but I love trouble.” His hand slides further down her body and squeezes her arse. “And you only get me into the best kind. So, what do you say, Emma Swan? Would you like to marry me?”

“Yes.”

-/-

They get married a week later in the park near their home. Killian wears a suit that isn’t in his daily rotation and Emma wears a white dress with silver beads sewn into it that she found while walking to the café two days before. It’s simple, intimate, and if Emma is honest with herself, not much changes other than her last name.

Emma likes it that way.

She likes her life.

She loves her husband.

“One round of drinks on the house,” Killian exclaims in the speakeasy that night as a band plays loudly in the background. “But only the one. I’m not made of gold.”

There’s a chorus of cheers around them, and Killian nods to the bartender before wrapping his arm around her waist and pressing his lips to her check, stubble scratching against her skin.

“Well, aren’t you generous?” Emma teases. “What’s the occasion?”

“Married the bloody love of my life today.”

“She sounds wonderful.”

“Aye,” he winks. “The best.” Killian pulls her closer and moves his lips over hers in a dirty kiss. “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Most intelligent too.” He kisses her again, then moves to her jaw. “Witty and wild and fierce.”

“Wild?” Emma sighs, tilting her neck back to give him more access.

“You wouldn’t believe the things she gets up to. I hear she had the bollocks to become friendly with gangsters.”

“Who would ever do that?”

“She would.”

Emma laughs and presses her fingers against Killian’s chest, tugging on his jacket sleeves to pull him even closer. “You have a private office here, right?”

He arches his brows. “Aye.”

“You might consider taking me to it.”

“Mrs. Jones, you need only ask.”

She and Killian walk through the crowd of people, stopping to say hello to everyone along the way, before they move past a wall of beads hanging from the ceiling and several doors that lead them to Killian’s back office. It’s filled with files for the speakeasy and from the café, his legitimate and illegitimate businesses combining in one place, and Emma shakes her head when she sees it all. How has he managed to pull this off?

How have they?

The door clicks behind her, several bolts shifting as it locks, and the heat of Killian catches up on her as he moves behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, breathing her in and slowly swaying her. Emma sighs back into him and tilts her head to look at him.

She could get lost in his eyes, and she would willingly throw away the maps.

“Do you remember the song,” Killian begins, “the one you sang in the pub?”

“The one that made you kiss me for the first time?”

“Aye. That would be the one.”

“Of course I remember.”

“Would you mind singing it again?”

Emma laughs and twists around in his arms. She wraps her arms around his neck and continues to sway. “Well, if you insist.”

“I do.”

Emma sighs and rolls her shoulders back, all of the sounds of the outside fading away as she focuses on Killian and the way that he is gently swaying her, their steps only matching up with each other instead of those outside the room.

“In a neat little town they called Belfast, apprentice to trade I was bound. And many an hour's sweet happiness have I spent in that neat little town. A sad misfortune came over me, which caused me to stray from the land. Far away from my friends and relations, betrayed by the black velvet band.”

Killian closes his eyes in the middle of the verse, but his lips tick up in a smile. There’s a flash of white teeth, and Emma leans her head against his shoulder, resting her cheek in a place of comfort, and sings in his ear.

“Her eyes they shone like diamonds. I thought her the queen of the land. And her hair, it hung over her shoulder, tied up with a black velvet band. I took a stroll down Broadway, meaning not long for to stay when who should I meet but this pretty fair maid come a-traipsing along the highway. She was both fair and handsome. Her neck, it was just like a swan. And her hair, it hung over her shoulder tied up with a black velvet band.”

“Do you know how this song ends?” Killian asks.

“She betrays him.”

“I think it’s rather fitting for you and I, but the lyrics would have to change for us.”

“That can be arranged.”

Killian laughs into their kiss, and Emma can feel joy spreading over her body as she melts into it. He is not perfect. Neither is she. They will never be two people who have a white picket fence and no stains on their hearts, but if Emma is honest, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

All she needs is to be happy, and she is.

There’s a sudden bang outside the room, and Emma pulls back from Killian’s lips. His hands tighten on her back, and they still as another bullet is released from a gun.

“Bloody hell.”

“What’s happening?” Emma whispers as Killian moves away from Emma and toward the door, pressing his ear against the wood.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Fuck. The coppers are here, and I don’t think it’s the ones who enjoy our drinks.”

Emma feels her stomach drop.

“What do we do?”

“We stay here,” Killian says, slow, measured. “Help me move the desk against the door.”

“They’ll hear it scraping.”

“Not if we lift it. There’s too much commotion outside for them to come here first.”

Emma nods and helps Killian move the desk. It’s a heavy oak, and she struggles to keep it from falling to the ground. They get it, along with several filing cabinets, and Emma’s heart pounds as the commotion outside keeps happening. There are several exits for this exact reason, for people to run away if someone snitches on the place, and Emma hopes most everyone is able to leave and run to safety.

She knows that she and Killian are not going to be so lucky. They’ll only have so much time before they’re arrested.

Emma turns to see Killian with a crowbar, and he pulls back a plank of wood siding on the wall. “What are you doing?”

“There’s a tunnel through here,” he explains. “I had it installed when Dave put me in charge of construction on the place.”

“Oh my God, are the Nolans going to be charged for this?”

“No.” Killian shakes his head. “I changed the paperwork. Even though this is connected to them, no one will ever know. And if someone finds out, Mary Margaret’s father has enough power to aid them. Come help me. We’ll only have so much time to get out of here.”

Emma nods and walks toward him, helping to pull away boards until there’s a big enough gap for them to move through. Killian gets down on his knees and goes first, and Emma follows behind him, only a little light available to guide them. Her hands and knees are covered in dirt, and with each passing minute, they become more scraped and bloodied. It stings, but it’s nothing she can’t handle.

Emma doesn’t know how much time passes or how far they travel, but eventually, they come to a stop and Killian kicks against another panel. The sounds of the city come through, pouring rain joining it, and when Killian climbs out first, she can see streetlights. He helps her out, apologizing for making a mess of her dress, and Emma doesn’t have to look down at it to know that it is no longer white and that some of the beads are lost.

“Where are we?”

“A few blocks over. C’mon, love. We have to go.”

They walk through the rain, puddles gathering at their feet and water soaking through their hair and their clothes. Killian attempts to shield her with his jacket, but it does no good. She is already a drowned rat, and she might as well accept it. They can’t go back, can’t see what’s happening in the place they’ve put so much of their heart into, so they go home.

Nothing about it feels right.

“Aren’t they going to come looking for you here?”

“I’m Mr. Jones to everyone there. No one knows my first name. No one knows anything about us. We should be safe for now, but I’ll have business to attend to. We may need to leave for awhile, possibly return to England to keep me from ending up behind bars.”

Emma stills then slips off her heels. “What will we do with everything here?”

“Save it for us to return. We can make a home in whatever place we desire. The options are there for us, sweetheart.”

Emma reaches up and squeezes the water out of her hair as Killian undoes some more buttons on his shirt, his hair dark with water on his chest. “What about Gold? You remember what Liam said? He’s looking for you, Killian. He’s looking for us.”

“I am not scared of that crocodile of a man,” Killian seethes. “He is a coward who has others do his work for him.”

“Are you not a coward, Mr. Jones? Running away with your mistress to America and then running back to England when your threads are pulled?”

Gooseflesh rises on every inch of Emma’s skin, and ice runs down her veins. She knows that voice. It haunts her nightmares and her waking hours, and she thought she’d washed the grime from him away. She thought he was gone, that she was safe.

And yet he’s here, in her home, emerging from a dark corner. The silver of his gun appears as lightning flashes outside and thunder joins with it, shaking their home to its bones of wood and brick.

“Killian,” Emma whispers. Her hands are shaking, and she wants to vomit. Her legs are heavy, unmovable, and she watches in horror as Killian’s eyes widen. For the first time, she sees fear there.

“What do you want, Gold?” Killian turns away from her to face Gold, and his shoulders straighten. The tension is obvious through his soaked white shirt, each muscle defined despite the lack of light.

“I want you dead, of course. I’ve come all this way to finish you off for all that you’ve done to me.”

“I did nothing to you.”

“You had my wife.”

“Your wife left you, and you murdered her.” Killian’s voice is even, but she knows he’s raging inside. They don’t talk about Milah often, only on nights when Killian is near drunk and a little melancholy, but Emma knows Killian loved her and she loved him. “That happened years ago. An entire war has been fought since then. You’ve had plenty of opportunity to kill me. You could have shot me while I was walking down the street at any time. I half expected it every time I left my home. What are you getting from this?”

“Getting to see you suffer, of course.” Gold steps closer, his face becoming more illuminated, and though it has only half a year since Emma last saw him, he looks years older. “It was so pleasurable the last time, but you didn’t get your due then. No, no, that comes now.”

All those times Killian suspected that Gold let Killian live because he wanted Killian to suffer from uncertainty were right. That’s exactly what the bastard was doing, but the time of waiting has run out.

Killian’s hand flicks behind him, and she knows he’s trying to subtly reach for his gun. Emma regrets not having any weapons on her. She didn’t think she’d need any today. She didn’t expect this to happen.

Any of it.

The raid of the speakeasy and Gold showing up in their home are connected, and while Emma wants to know how he found them and why he waited until a day that was supposed to be about them celebrating their marriage, she knows none of that matters when he might kill them both.

“It’s so nice to see that the two of you have patched things up,” Gold giggles, maniacal. “I assume this means you know you’ll not be with a blushing virgin tonight, Jones. What a shame for you to have to deal with on your wedding day. Broken goods.”

“Keep your mouth shut about her,” Killian hisses, his hand flinching right over his holster. “This has nothing to do with her.”

Gold clicks his tongue. “That’s where you’re mistaken. It has everything to do with her. You took my wife. Now I think it’s time I took yours. It’ll be so much more satisfying than it was the last time.”

The glass shattering behind her comes to Emma’s attention before she realizes that shots have been fired. She doesn’t know who shot first, where any of the bullets landed, or if Killian is okay. The power has gone out in their home, the rain and the thunder have picked up outside, coating the world in darkness like she has never seen before, and when the lightning comes, she sees flashes of limbs moving. It’s not enough to know where anyone is or what’s happened, and Emma is pulled down to the ground as another bullet soars by her, crashing into a mirror. Emma covers her head and drops fully to the floor, careful not to cut herself on any of the glass.

She should run.

She’s been doing it for her entire life, but she can’t do it now.

She can’t leave Killian behind.

Grunts, groans, and curses mix in with the roar or the thunder and the pounding of the rain, and she sees more flashes of movement, hears more shouting. Killian lets out a loud hiss of pain, and Emma moves closer to where the noise is coming from, trying to find him.

She can’t find him, and her heart starts to pound.

One beat, two beat, three beats too fast until her cheeks are heated and her chest aches in pain.

Killian is still making noise, so he can’t be dead.

He can’t be, he can’t be, he can’t be.

She cannot lose him.

“Emma,” he groans, and she turns. He’s in the corner of the sitting area, his knee clutched to his chest, and there are visible red stains on his fingers and his shirt. “Emma, love, you have to go.”

“I’m not leaving you here.” She moves quickly in an attempt to get to him, to heal whatever has been hurt, but then she’s being yanked back and can feel the barrel of a gun pressing into her temple.

It’s not the first time it’s happened, but she has a sinking feeling it will be the last.

“You should have listened to him, dearie,” Gold whispers in her ear, and that old familiar shiver at the sound of his voice comes back. “Better yet, you should have listened to me and not run away with a dirty gangster.”

“How is that any worse than having to work for a dirty politician?” Emma spits.

“Because with me, you don’t end up dead.”

Not dead but certainly not alive.

Emma hears him cock the gun. She feels him twitch behind her. It’s not enough and too much all at once, and Emma’s hand flexes, blood running across her palm and she takes the shard of glass she’s holding and jams it into Gold’s bad leg. It’s enough for him to fall back in pain, for him to lose his footing and stumble to the ground, and before Emma has a chance to do anything else, a bullet hits Gold.

One that will keep him from ever getting back up.

“Emma, darling,” Killian pants, dropping his gun to the floor. “Emma I need you to come wrap my leg, and I fucking need you to get me my rum. This bastard fucking hurts.”

If she wasn’t too busy crying, Emma would laugh at Killian’s words. Right now, all she wants to do is collapse to the ground, but she can’t. She has to help Killian, so she moves to the kitchen, stumbling over furniture and hoping her bare feet don’t get cut up with glass, and she finds Killian’s rum and some wraps before returning to him. She can’t see, but she thinks there’s a bullet in his thigh, and she already knows he won’t allow her to take her to the hospital for this.

“Are you okay, love?” he asks as he takes a large gulp of rum.

Emma laughs at the ridiculousness of his question. “I’m not the one who got shot.”

“But you could have.”

She yanks on the cloth and starts wrapping it around his leg. She won’t be able to do anything more than stopping the bleeding right now. “I didn’t.”

“I should have been more careful, love. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get so soft.”

“Killian Jones, never in a million years could that happen to you.” He manages a lopsided smile, but from the way he grits his teeth afterward, she knows it’s taking more effort than he would admit to hide his pain. “Some wedding night, huh?” Emma jokes as she tightens the wrap. If she had been a nurse in the War, she imagines she would have been sent home almost immediately for her shoddy skills.

Killian laughs, this time genuine, and Emma leans forward to press her forehead to his and press her hand over his heart, thankful to feel it beating right along with hers. She can feel his smile pressing into her mouth, and she never wants to lose that feeling. “We’ll get there, my love.”

And they do.

In the morning light and with the help of one of Killian’s bartenders who was actually a nurse in the War, Emma gets Killian back to functional. He struggles walking for awhile and is stubborn enough to act like nothing hurts, but Emma knows him better than that. They know their time in New York is limited with everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours, so after packing a few bags and Killian having his men here clean up the mess with instructions to return the house to livable condition as soon as possible, they make themselves look presentable for a few last goodbyes.

Emma buys Mary Margaret baby gifts, and Killian buys a pram to put it all in, his way of thanking them for everything they did that neither Killian nor Emma deserve. They don’t see them, instead leaving a note and promising to come back to visit when the baby is born, and Killian leaves a separate message for David about their work. It’s not the cleanest break, but there’s no way they could allow the Nolans to see them with all of their scrapes and bruises.

It would only break their hearts.

Soon after that, they’re at the harbor, Killian is buying them two tickets back home, and Emma can do nothing more than stare at the ocean, the one that she is ready to cross again when she spent so many months hating it.

Once again, it is her safe haven.

Though, she may have found another one, a man whose eyes mirror the ocean and consume her all the same.

Killian grunts as he sits down on the bench beside her. She takes his hand in hers and squeezes, wishing she could take some of the pain away. It won’t last forever, and soon, his scars will be another mark on his body, another story to be told. If Killian tells the story, she imagines he will embellish every detail. The thought makes her smile even as the cuts on her own two hands sting when they are hit with the mist of the salt water.

“I don’t want to run away again,” Emma admits. “I know we’ll never be traditional, but I’d like to stay in one place and be surrounded by our family. I think it’s time you took back your rightful place as the head of the Jones Corporation in Birmingham. For good.”

“As long as I have you by my side.”

“Always.”

-/-

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#black velvet #black velvet part two #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years

Text

According To Him

CEO Mark X Reader

Genre: THE FLUFFIEST OF FLUFF I HAVE EVER WRITTEN (with some mentions of sex) (God how do I write about things I have never and probably will never experience I am so sad)

Word Count: 6.5K

Summary: Being in such a high position at one of the biggest tech companies in the country on top of attending college full time can be a lot to handle. You’ve never thought highly of yourself and there were days that you felt like giving up because the workload was too hard. You also were extremely insecure over every single thing about yourself. However, there is one person who makes you feel like the most beautiful, hard working and deserving person in the entire world--the CEO of the company you work at and the man of your dreams, Mark Tuan.

A/N: (GUESS WHOSE BACK, BACK AGAIN IN LESS THAN A WEEK) IT’S ME WITH ANOTHER STORY but this time it’s adorable, endearing, full of love and laughter and everything I wish was going on in my life but no, I’m seconds away from a mental breakdown every single day. This is based off of Ariana Grande’s new song “POV” and honestly as soon as i heard the song I knew I had to write an imagine based on it it’s sooooo good I wish someone made me feel that way dude why can’t I have a boyfriend like Mark in this story (Or just Mark in general) Please enjoy! (And cry with me)

It's like you got superpowers Turn my minutes into hours You got more than 20/20, babe Made of glass, the way you see through me You know me better than I do Can't seem to keep nothin' from you How you touch my soul from the outside Permeate my ego and my pride

I wanna love me (ooh) The way that you love me (ooh) Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too I'd love to see me from your point of view I wanna trust me (trust me) The way that you trust me (trust me) Oh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view

“If we want to build stronger relationships with our hundreds of clients in order to get them to prolong their contracts with us, I suggest that we increase the amount of stocks that we invest in to each of their companies and find more sponsors to help get the attention of the public—maybe we could start putting ads on television or on the radio?”

If there was anything you hated about your job, it was public speaking. For someone who graduated with her master’s degree in communications with double minors in criminal justice and journalism, one would think you were great when having to speak to a large group of people—but no. Your entire body along with your voice was shaking profusely and you felt as if you were about to throw up. If it wasn’t for the devastatingly handsome man whose been sneaking cheeky winks and a few grins in your direction here and there in order to calm your racing heart, then you would have blew the entire thing.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea y/n. A lot of people listen to the radio nowadays and television can get the attention of those who don’t drive or use cars as transportation. What does everyone else think?”

If Mark wasn’t there, you were sure your heart would have jumped out of your chest. He actually wasn’t supposed to be there; he had a couple of meetings he had scheduled months beforehand, but when he found out that the members of the board were having a meeting and you were expected to be involved in it while presenting your ideas on how the company you were currently working for could expand throughout the United States and maybe even outside of the country, he cancelled every single meeting with the intention of giving you moral support.

No matter how much you tried to reject his offer, not wanting to get in the way of his other responsibilities—you’d be lying if you said you weren’t extremely happy that he was there. His presence was undoubtedly calming; no matter wherever the two of you were, whether it was a board meeting, a company dinner or more relaxing and romantic places like the beach or on vacation in Europe, Mark could always bring you serenity.

You looked around hesitantly in attempts to prevent Mark from seeing the blush he caused rise upon your cheeks from gazing at you and because you were genuinely curious about what your colleagues had to say about your brainstorm. When you saw a hand raise—particularly by a specific someone you weren’t all too fond of in your workplace, you wanted to let out a disgusted groan, but you refused to stoop to her level nor did you want any of your coworkers thinking you were rude.

“Don’t get me wrong, that is a decent idea—but I know there are other things we can do that would better benefit the company without having to waste money on unnecessary ad sales. With all due respect sir, I don’t think it’s fair for you to show favoritism towards y/n just because she’s your girlfriend.”

If you weren’t surrounded by fifteen other people, you were sure you would have leaped across of the table and socked her in the face. There were at least 1,000 people employed at the company you were working at and although you haven’t met every single person, you genuinely liked all the employees you did get the chance to get introduced to. However, there was only one person in particular that you honestly could do without and she just so happened to feel the need to speak up against you because she loved making you look stupid—especially in front of Mark.

From the day you met her, Megan never seemed to care about you even if you were nothing but nice and friendly to her. You didn’t care though—you were there to work, not to worry about someone who dislikes you. But you didn’t do anything wrong for her to treat you as if you were scum of the earth. Every time you would walk past her desk, she would glare at you and during meetings like these that unfortunately she had to attend, she would always plot against you.

You overheard a conversation between two colleagues in the bathroom one day about how Megan felt as though Mark might have taken a liking to her and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Your boyfriend had no clue about the way she treated you so rudely; you didn’t like starting unnecessary drama, but you were sure he caught on to her hostility—she wasn’t very vague about it.

As the days went on though, you only grew more and more irritated with her and it was getting harder for you to bite back your tongue and prevent yourself from saying how you truly felt about her. It didn’t matter that your boyfriend just so happened to be the CEO of the tech company you’ve been working at for almost three years now; if you were to physically attack someone or instigate a fist fight, there was nothing he could do if she were to press charges—well other than bail you out—but that wouldn’t look too good for him as one of the youngest and most successful CEOs in the country.

Your boyfriend Mark just so happened to take over his father’s company right after the elder man decided to retire just a year after you began working there. You were an intern at the company for a couple of months before Mark’s dad offered you a permanent job; stating that you were one of the best interns he’s ever had—that you were extremely responsible, hard working, dedicated to your craft, passionate about your education and just an all around kind of person.

The Tuan family’s company was a very fast paced working environment. Nine hours would pass by faster than you could even comprehend only because you were constantly doing something. You’d be lying if you said your life didn’t get stressful every now and then—managing both college and a full-time job wasn’t the easiest thing to do; especially since you were a double major. But you did your best to stay on top of school and work. You were introduced to Mark one day by his father when he told you that he wanted the two of you to work together in order to build a healthy work relationship seeing as how he wanted you to be his son’s go to person.

Mr.Tuan trusted you the most out of every single person working at his company; so it was only natural for him to want you to show his son the same support that you’ve shown him.

Mark was nothing short of a gentleman when you first met him—he never used his position or the fact that he was the heir to the company to get what he wanted or to intimidate anyone of the employees in anyway. In fact, sometimes you’d forget that his family owned the company and that he was supposed to take over his dad’s position seeing as how he blended in so well with everyone else. He allowed you to show him the ropes; even if his father was the CEO and this company has been in his family for over four generations, he himself has never really been involved in what went on at the company.

His parents wanted him to enjoy his life and do whatever it was that he wanted to do before having him take on such an important and tiresome role. Mark was such an amazing listener and he seemed to be very eager to learn. He complimented you on how dedicated and how hard working you were and he was very grateful that his dad had someone working for him who cared for the success of their company as much as he did.

There was a point where you spent almost every minute that you were at work with Mark and you honestly weren’t complaining. You loved his presence and enjoyed how happy he made you. Although he wasn’t a man of many words, his actions spoke for him. He’d open every single door for you, pulled out your chairs, carried the things you would need for meetings, held your bag as you paid for coffee—hell, he even started to take over every bill that you had whether it was for food, drinks or just your necessities.

At first, you assumed that he was only being nice as a way to no verbally thank you for helping him out—but with the way he would look at you with a certain glint and sparkle in his eyes, and the way he would try and touch you every now and then, whether it was bringing back some of your hair behind your ear, pulling you on the inside as the two of you walked on the sidewalk or playfully poking your cheek if he noticed you falling asleep from how exhausted you were, people didn’t do that to just anybody.

It was obvious he felt comfortable around you and you knew it was a stretch to feel this way, but you were secretly hoping that he saw you as more than just a colleague. You knew you were screwed from the moment he was assigned to work under you—Mark had to be the handsomest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. He had the most well-defined features; the prettiest brown eyes, a sharp and pointy nose, prominent cheek bones and the softest, heart shaped lips.

You’d find yourself staring at his lips during meetings or when the two of you would get lunch together and you always wondered what it would be like to feel them against yours. Only after a month, your partnership with Mark grew more flirtatious. He would always playfully tease you and make jokes in attempts to make you laugh when he could tell you were stressed; he also complemented you every single day about how beautiful he thought you were and how your laugh had to be the prettiest and most contagious sound in the world. You’d observe the way he would act around the other employees to see if the way he interacted with you was just him being friendly—but he hardly ever talked to anyone else unless he had to for business purposes.

It made you feel special in a sense that maybe—just maybe Mark had developed some kind of romantic feelings for you as you quickly did with him. One night, Mark took you out to dinner as a way to thank you for all you’ve done for him so far and the night went along perfectly. Conversation flowed so easily between the two of you and you found out that you had so much in common with the older boy. Your sense of humors were the exact same and you both were very generous when it came to helping out the less fortunate.

You didn’t think much of him offering to drop you home, you just assumed he wanted to make sure you made it in to your apartment safely. Once the two of you pulled up to your complex, he insisted on walking you to your door. You didn’t really expect anything once you were to reach the front door—you planned on thanking him for such an amazing night and for taking you home.

To your surprise, he tugged on your wrist and pulled you in to his chest before connecting your lips together in a sweet kiss. His lips were so soft and tasted like bubblegum—he lowered his hands to your waist while licking on your bottom lip, ultimately bringing it in between his teeth. The two of you made out for a couple of minutes until Mark abruptly pulled away. Right as you were about to whine at the loss of his lips against yours, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and giggled softly.

“I like you y/n—a lot more than I’d like to admit actually. If I’m being honest, I think it might be more than that. I’ve liked you from the minute my dad had me shadow you and if I’m being honest, I kind of hinted towards wanting to be partnered up with you because I witnessed how amazing your work ethic is and I’ve admired how intelligent and talented you are. I think my dad talks more highly about you than he does me and I can see why—you’re wonderful y/n. These last few weeks with you has been some of the best moments of my entire life. You make me so happy. I would have never thought that I would actually enjoy going to work as much as I do and it’s specifically because I want to see you. Would you—um—maybe want to be my girlfriend? I totally understand if you don’t want to and please don’t feel as if you have to reciprocate my same feelings because I’m going to be your boss or because you feel bad—“

You didn’t allow him to say anything else before you roughly smashed your lips back up against his. Now that you knew how it felt like to kiss him—something you’ve been dreaming about for quite some time now, you would never get enough of having his lips meld perfectly in unison with yours.

“I like you too Mark. You don’t understand how happy I am—I’m sure you’ve caught me stealing glances at you every now and then. I would doze off sometimes and dream about what it would be like to be the lucky girl who gets to love you and be loved by you. I would love to be your girlfriend. If you don’t have to go yet, did you maybe want to uh—come inside for some coffee?”

He beamed at you and nodded in excitement—it didn’t take a genius to know that coffee was not at all going to be involved in the nights festivities and he couldn’t care less. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t dreamt about being intimate with you and getting to see you naked and bare—writhing underneath him while begging him to do anything to soothe the fire building inside of you. It’s happened on many occasions and he isn’t embarrassed to say a lot of his wet dreams were caused by you. As soon as you both made your way inside, he pressed you up against the door and began leaving sloppy kisses on the expanse of your neck and chest while whispering sweet nothings against your jaw.

That entire night was spent relishing in your newfound relationship in your bed, in the shower, on the counter and up against your fridge. From that night on, the two of you were inseparable—it wasn’t much of a change from your usual time spent together other than him being even more clingy and touchier now that the two of you were a couple. Plus, you got to see him on the weekends which was a bonus—even if you spent almost ten hours a day every single day with him, it was never enough.

Both you and your boyfriend decided to keep your relationship a secret from everyone at the company to prevent people from talking negatively of you or assuming that you were only dating Mark for beneficial reasons which was far from the truth. You didn’t think it was possible for Mark to be an even more amazing boyfriend than he was a business partner, but he proved you wrong entirely. He was so shy and soft whenever it came to you.

Although he practically hovered over your tiny frame, the older boy would follow you around like a lost puppy. He would show up to your apartment every morning and take you with him to work so you didn’t have to worry about transportation. He would also wait until you were finished with work if he just so happened to end earlier that you did in order to take you home. If Mark was anything, it was extremely observant.

It took him less than a week to learn your coffee order, he’d purchase all kinds of things for you while he’d go grocery shopping, he would buy you bags and clothes that he thought would look amazing on you, he would write you cute little post it notes and stick it all around your desk and if you were to catch a cold or if you weren’t feeling all too well, he’d take off from work in order to help nurse you back to health—in more ways than one. You never thought you would ever be able to experience the love Mark was giving to you.

You’ve only ever been in two actual relationships before him. Other than that, you were the type of person who enjoyed to fool around. Whenever you and your friends would go out to clubs and bars, you’d find yourself getting drunk and taking someone home whose name you’d never got around to learning. If you were being honest, you never thought you would ever be in a long term relationship before.

Your parents divorced when you were only two years old and it seemed like most of the adults you were surrounded with just so happened to be divorced also. Love was a foreign word to you—you never believed love could exist. Everything you’ve seen in movies was fake; all these shows and books about men who would give their lives for their significant others, you thought it was complete and utter bullshit. You ended up breaking up with both your boyfriends because you were afraid of getting your heart broken.

It wasn’t like either of them really made you feel loved or genuinely cared for in the first place, so breaking up with them didn’t hurt as much as you expected to. That all changed the minute you found yourself falling in love with Mark. Time and time again, you told yourself you would never allow yourself to make such a stupid mistake—nor did you want to give your heart, mind, spirit and just yourself entirely away to someone who would only break your heart and leave you like it is the easiest thing do to.

For years, you’ve put up this barrier around your heart and kept every single person out of it. However, you didn’t know how he did it—but Mark knock down your walls and made you want to fall in love with him. Even before you really got to know him and how he was as a person, you know you could trust him. You wanted to give yourself a chance at love; it’s what you deserved. You couldn’t keep running away from something so good—or someone who obviously loved you more than life itself just because you didn’t want them to hurt you.

The way he took care of you—even if you weren’t necessarily aware of it; the way he looked at you with so much adoration and happiness, the way he would talk so highly about you to everyone he surrounded himself with made it all the more clear that you must have meant a lot to Mark and you weren’t going to let anything or anyone for that matter get in the way of experiencing what true love felt like. Not once in your relationship with Mark did you ever have to worry about getting hurt—you knew that man loved you with his entire being. He never failed to show you or tell you every single day and sometimes you had a hard time accepting that someone could love you so much in the way Mark evidently did.

Mark Tuan had to be the best thing that has ever happened to you and you were never going to take him for granted. He was the man you knew you wanted so badly to spend the rest of your life with—there was nobody in this world that you loved or could ever love more than you did with him. He captivated your heart in ways you didn’t believe was possible. Honestly, there were times where you felt as though he deserved better.

You didn’t think all that highly of yourself; sure you had a pretty high position at his company for someone who was only 21-years-old and you were obviously well educated, but you weren’t very sociable nor did you think you were as street smart as you were book smart. You also never considered yourself to be attractive; you’d stare at yourself in the mirror ever now and then and picked out a lot of your features that you didn’t like about yourself.

There were days that you thought everything about you was ugly; your teeth were crooked, your eyebrows were bushy, you had chubby cheeks, you were on the more curvy side—you had thick thighs, decent sized breasts and your butt was on the bigger side, but you also had big hips and your stomach wasn’t as flat as you wish it would be. On many occasions, you found yourself growing jealous of a few of the employees at the company because a lot of them were so pretty and had petite, dainty bodies.

No matter how many times your boyfriend would remind you on a daily basis that he thought your body was so beautiful and that he was completely obsessed with each and every curve, beauty mark and birth mark scattered along your skin, your insecurities never failed to get the best of you and you’d always tell yourself that he probably wanted someone with the body of a model. However, you would observe Mark just as much as he did with you; he never batted an eye at any other girl—even when he talked to one of your colleagues, he seemed so disinterested and it made your heart flutter.

You wanted nothing more than to be content with the fact that your boyfriend only had eyes for you, but it was only natural for you to feel as though you weren’t good enough for him. There was an insult on the tip of your tongue; you wanted to ask her what she had in mind and hoped that it was worse than your idea so she would look like a complete dumbass, but luckily—Mark beat you to it.

“Decent? I think you mean brilliant—and no Megan, I do not allow my personal affairs to conflict with my work ethic. I genuinely like y/n’s idea and I would support her even if we weren’t dating. Do you have any better ideas?”

You didn’t have to confess anything out loud; Mark could read your body language like it was a picture book. He knew you better than he knew himself and even better than you knew yourself. With the way you tightened your fists and clenched your jaw, he knew you were seconds away from reaching across the table and pulling on Megan’s hair and if he was telling the truth—he was all for it. Your boyfriend knew all about your ill-relationship with the older girl—he wasn’t blind. Your mood was always quick to change from excited and bubbly to quiet and visibly annoyed whenever she came around.

He wasn’t the kind of person to press you for information if you didn’t want to flat out tell him yourself. He did wish you would tell him though; he wanted to know everything that was bothering you or things that made you upset—if there was anything Mark loathed, it was seeing you sad. His sole purpose was to make sure you were constantly happy, healthy and living the best life possible.

As a CEO, he couldn’t fire her for the reason that she was tormenting you; there was no evidence. But as your boyfriend, he could use his title against her and he always used that to his advantage—to protect you. You had to bite your lip to prevent yourself from laughing at the sight of her now defeated demeanor.

“No sir.” Mark sent you a cheeky wink before clapping his hands together and getting up from his seat.

“What does everyone else think about the radio station and television commercial ad idea?” Everyone around you nodded their heads in agreement and some even gave your boyfriend a thumbs up—you weren’t one to boast nor did you particularly find contentment in proving others wrong unless they deserved it and Megan definitely deserved the shade your boyfriend gave her.

“Good, then it’s settled. If anyone has any better ideas—then feel free to bring it to the next meeting. But until then, we’ll go along with what y/n pitched and take it from there. I have some phone calls I have to make, so I’ll be taking my leave. Good job everyone.” Mark bowed to the entire table and quickly made his way towards the door but not before walking over to you and gently squeezing your shoulder.

“No rush, but can you come to my office once you wrap things up here? I want to talk more about your idea.”

You nodded in agreement even if you knew that you and your boyfriend would only briefly go over what was brought up in the meeting before doing something you both shouldn’t do in a work environment. The meeting only lasted for a couple of minutes after Mark had left—all the employees in attendance were extremely supportive of what you came up with and you couldn’t have been more thrilled and grateful with their responses.

Right after you adjourned the meeting, you made a beeline for Mark’s office; not wanting anyone—specifically Megan to keep you from your boyfriend any longer. When you noticed her approaching, you quickened your pace and made sure she was no longer tailing you once you reached Mark’s door. You knocked gently and waited patiently for him to invite you in and as soon as he called out for you to enter, you made your way inside and gave him no time to process your movements before flopping on to his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. A soft giggle fell from his lips as he brought his hands down to your waist and held you tightly against his body.

“You’re amazing and I love you. Thank you baby.” His laughter filled the room—going straight to your chest and making warmth rise upon your cheeks. For someone who was only three years away from turning thirty, he had the most adorable, high pitched laugh that you knew could light up any room he was in.

“You’re the one whose amazing and I meant what I said—your idea is brilliant. Almost as brilliant as you my love. You never cease to amaze me. Did you see the look on Megan’s face when I indirectly called her out? That shit was priceless I wish I got it on camera. By the way—why didn’t you tell me about how she acts towards you earlier? I’m not stupid y/n, I know there must be some kind of animosity between the two of you and I know you’re not the cause of it. You know you can trust me with these things. What else does she do to you? Nobody treats my baby so unfairly and can expect me not to do anything about it.”

You brought your hand up to his cheek and cupped it ever so gently before placing a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. He smiled softly against your lips and stole a couple more kisses before leaning back in his chair in order to get a better look at you.

“I didn’t want to bother you with something I can handle on my own. I’m a big girl Mark and I don’t let shit like that bother me. I don’t know why she acts like this, I didn’t do anything to her—and I don’t want everyone here to think that I’m not capable of fighting my own battles and that I have to have my boyfriend use his power to fight them for me. I’m sure a lot of employees gossip to each other about our relationship—“

“Who cares what anyone says? Our relationship is nobody’s business but our own. I just—I’m sorry, hearing her try to make you seem so small—so incapable of great things pissed me the fuck off. You’re the hardest worker we have in this entire company and I’m not just saying that because you’re the love of my life. I’m saying it because I’ve watched you work your ass off for the last four years taking on overtime, flying all around the world to meet with and make business with all these important companies, staying up all night to study for exams only to come in the next morning like you weren’t exhausted at all. You are an ethereal being baby. You’re otherworldly and I just can’t stop looking at you in astonishment. I hope you know Megan and every other girl who acts that way towards you is just jealous of you and I don’t blame them. I mean, just look at you.”

The tears were hot as they built up at the brim of your eyelids. This happened almost every single day. Mark had a habit of going in to detail about the love he had for you and how wonderful he thought you were and you were never prepared to hear his complements and sweet words.

“I don’t know what they would be jealous about Mark. Like you said, look at me—“

“I am looking at you. I can’t seem to stop looking at you. All I ever want to do for the rest of my life is look at you and admire you for the extraordinary human being that you are. You are the most beautiful girl in the world, I’m being completely honest y/n. You are so fucking gorgeous, I can’t even form your beauty in to words. You’re honestly God’s favorite and definitely mine. I hate that you think so negatively about yourself when I think the world of you. I know there’s no such thing as a perfect person but damnit y/n, you come very close. I really don’t know what I did to deserve you—and yes, I know what you’re thinking and you can just get rid of the thought that you’re not good enough for me out of your mind completely. Y/n, you are the best thing to ever happen to me—I mean that wholeheartedly. All my life, I felt as though something was missing but I could never put my finger on it. When I met you, everything changed and it just clicked. You were my missing puzzle piece—you’ve brought so much love and light in to my life and I’m forever thankful for being blessed with you to be my person.”

You allowed the tears to fall from your eyelids and a small sob left your throat leading Mark to laugh against your jaw while bringing you closer to his chest. He began to run his fingers through your hair and left a few gentle kisses all around your face.

“God Mark, I don’t know what I did to deserve you but I would do it again and again—I would lead and fight an entire world war if it meant getting to be the person you love in each and every single lifetime. I can’t even—I know I tell you that I love you every single day but I can’t help to feel as though it’s not enough. I wish there was more I could say or do to show you just how much I truly, deeply and irrevocably love you, how you mean the entire world to me and how I would be completely nothing without you. I wish I could see myself the way you see me—from your point of view. I want to trust and believe in myself the way you do. I wish I could love myself, the way you love me. I’m trying to learn to love myself because I know you worry about me and I don’t want you to anymore. I want to make you proud Mark—“

“You do make me proud y/n—every single day. I know you want to keep us a secret for reasons I have yet to understand—I’m sure now it has to do with people like Megan, but you shouldn’t care about what anyone thinks about you other than yourself and me. I think you’re the most astounding person I have ever met. It’s okay if you never learn to love yourself baby—I love you enough for the both of us and I will spend the rest of my life reminding you just how much of a wonderful, amazing, beautiful both on the inside and out and extremely sexy woman you are.”

He stole a few sloppy kisses from the corner of your mouth and began grazing your cheek feather lightly.

“You don’t have to do anything more to prove your love for me, I feel it in my heart. You’re the reason it beats by the way. You keep my blood rushing and my veins pumping. I would give up anything and everything—this job, my family, my friends, hell I would even give up my PlayStation 5 for you and that says a lot baby. You’re all I could ever want and need in my life. Now, if you want to show me some gratitude for loving you so much and for being your backbone today, maybe you could help me fix the problem in my pants that you caused as soon as I saw you leave the bathroom this morning wearing this outfit. Did I tell you how breathtakingly beautiful and devastatingly sexy you look right now? You know what was so hard for me—well, other than my painfully hardened erection, but it was seeing you in this skirt and blouse—watching you tell everyone of your plans with so much confidence and observing the way all the men in there were looking at you with desire in their eyes and not being able to walk up to you and kiss you with all my energy. I would have fucked you right there on the table if I could. But now that we’re both on lunch break—I’m all for eating you out right now. Lunch with a view sounds amazing and I’m not talking about the cityscape babe.”

You playfully shoved him while attempting to get out of his embrace but he wasn’t having any of it and tightened his grip around your waist if it was even possible. “Mark, we can’t have sex right now, everyone is going to find out what we’re doing. You and I are not exactly the quietest people when we have sex—“

He gave you the most adorable pout before bringing his lips right under your ear and nibbling tenderly—trying to get a rise out of you. “Why not? We’ve made love in here many times y/n. I daydream about the multiple times I fucked in to you auto against this desk and against the window. The imprint of your breast on the glass is still in the back of my mind. Who cares if they hear? All the more better. I saw the way all the men would let their eyes linger on you a little too long. I think it’s time they are reminded that your bed is spoken for. It’ll also teach anyone in this building not to mess with you. Don’t try to talk me out of it, I know you’re a huge exhibitionist baby. There’s this one particular position that I wanted to try out if you’re okay with it. I’m going to need you to get on all fours and this blouse, as amazing as it looks on you, I want to see these pretty titties bounce for me. Get ready to sing my love—I’m going to make sure everyone on this floor knows whose the boss in more ways than one.”

I'm getting used to receiving Still getting good at not leaving I'ma love you even though I'm scared Learnin' to be grateful for myself You love my lips 'cause they say the Things we've always been afraid of I can feel it starting to subside Learnin' to believe in what is mine

I wanna love me (ooh) The way that you love me (ooh) Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too I'd love to see me from your point of view I wanna trust me (trust me) The way that you trust me (trust me) Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view

I couldn't believe it Or see it for myself Know I be impatient But now I'm out here fallin', fallin' Frozen, slowly thawing, got me right I won't keep you waitin', waitin' All my baggage fadin' safely (baggage fadin') And if my eyes deceive me Won't let them stray too far away

I wanna love me (ooh) The way that you love me (ooh) Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too I'd love to see me from your point of view I wanna trust me, ooh (trust me) The way that you trust me, baby (trust me) 'Cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view, yeah

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #got7 #mark tuan imagines #mark tuan got7

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gayregis · 4 years

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this is kind of controversial so bear with me. as a slavic person i really feel like twn kind of “stole a part of our culture” (no not because there are poc, fuck the people who say that) like, the books and games have a really distinct slavic feel to them, even if they are inspired by europe in general, but twn kind of... throws all that out. it feels like just another western fantasy trying to be the next got. quite a few slavs have been trying to bring this to light but it’s greatly overshadowed by the numerous people simply being racist about the cast. this may seem dumb or like “white people pretending to be oppressed” but. slavs don’t really get the best treatment in western media as is and erasing us from one of our best known franchises kind of really sucks.

no i agree with this. i think the stupid fucking racists that are mad that there are actors of color in the series have totally taken this argument into red flag territory so that now it’s dangerous to broach this topic without attracting those freaks.

the witcher adaptation is not ‘slavic’ because it has no cultural reference to poland or any other parts of the region. both in writing and in visual design, it is incredibly generic and bland, as you said: “another western fantasy trying to be the next game of thrones.” this is disappointing and frustrating.

i’ll speak from my perspective as an american witcher fan: i did not know anything about polish culture/language/etc from my public school and postsecondary education. the only time we ever were taught about the region was in education about world war II and the cold war (in which they don’t teach us anything except that “poland must have been weak because it fell so quickly, and it then was part of the big bad soviet union :( ew communism ew”. the closest thing to poland that we learn about is russia (NOT conflating the two, i’m just saying the closest in proximity/language group/etc), and we learn very negative things about russia. and i live in a “liberal” area of the US.

of course i’m nothing near an expert now, but i have learned more from being in this fandom, mostly because i have looked into the publishing of the books, differences between original text and the english translation(s), cultural references and mythology. and of course i have had way more conversations with mutuals/friends from poland than i ever would have if i had not joined the fandom.

things that highlight the witcher books being “polish/slavic” to me, that weren’t in the netflix series at all: writing, humor, character tropes and mythology, specific foods, specific social groups and distinctions (peasantry vs nobility), governmental offices and organization, pacing.

and it seems like it was scrubbed on purpose to make it more ‘palatable’ to a broader american/british audience. ... which didn’t have to happen at all! a lot of what american audiences found interesting about the witcher (mostly demonstrated through the witcher 3) was its “uniqueness” in that it had a lot of cultural references that weren’t familiar to americans - for example the leshens in tw3 were quite popular because not many american fans had ever heard of them before, they sounded like a totally unique concept.

but they intended to take out the “distinct slavic feel” that you describe, ON PURPOSE:

this can be seen with people like alik sakharov running into conflict with lauren hissrich and the overall writing and visual direction:

The first season of Netflix's The Witcher was incredibly successful, but it did undergo a few changes on its way to the small screen, and that included a shift in directors. Alik Sakharov was originally going to direct episodes 1, 2, 7, and 8 of season 1, but only ended up directing episode 2 in full. Marc Jobst would reshoot significant parts of episode 1 and would take over 7 and 8, and up until now, we didn't really know why he departed. Showrunner Lauren S. Hissrich previously commented on his departure, but we finally heard from Sakharov in a new interview, and he broke down what he thought of his work on season 1 and why he ended up leaving

(...) Sakharov talked about the different points of view regarding the approach and vision for the show, and that conflict was the main reason why he left.

“You see, in my perception, Eastern-European literature has a completely different pace," Sakharov said. "It is no coincidence that Andrzej Sapkowski has so many storylines and characters. The producers set the task of setting the adaptation at an action pace and filling it with colorful special effects. That was their vision. My vision was very different and I tried to convey it to them, giving my arguments. Unfortunately, I was not considered convincing enough, so I decided to leave the project.”

The Witcher Director Explains Why He Left The Show

which is just so fucking annoying and disheartening because it’s part of what makes the witcher... the witcher. one can’t deny that sapkowski was largely influenced by the world around him (for better, or for worse... i’m looking at you, wwii antisemitism analogies with elves and dwarves instead...) and that was all taken out.

but they added so much sensationalist stuff to it - violence where it doesn’t make sense / isn’t necessary (the giant genocide that calanthe apparently carried out?), sex and nudity where it doesn’t make sense / isn’t necessary, all while taking away so much of the original text and dialogue, adding in cheap one-liners instead of paragraphs of emotion. the americanization of the media goes hand-in-hand with making it stupider, so it can reach the broadest possible audience to make the most possible amount of money.

and the effect of this is that all of the new fans coming in from the show don’t know anything about this and treat it like american media. one of the ways where this can be seen most prominently is how the fandom ‘affectionately’ nicknames jaskier “jask” ... and treats “buttercup” like a totally different pet name that geralt can call him... when... that’s not how... grammar and words work...

this is one of the reasons that i unironically like the hexer way more as an adaptation of the witcher books. one can’t deny that they’re more truthful to the original work.

before this i’ve also read a little about how the witcher becoming a big thing (not even reaching the western countries yet) was important because before it, only western fantasies like tolkien were considered to “sell well” by publishers so they wouldn’t take their chances with a polish author. it can’t be denied that the witcher is a cultural phenomenon and gave more international representation to poland just overall and in arts/culture. and the netflix series totally washed this all away in their interpretation.

what makes me mad as well is that they had a great opportunity to use traditional polish folk wear / motifs / art in the costume and set design and visual direction of the whole thing, and they just completely did some random bullshit that looks horrible and grotesque (no one looks like they come from the same planet or time period, much less the same continent). it’s not “fantasy,” it’s just random and nonsensical. extremely disappointing considering how much potential they had to consult polish artists, costume designers, historians and medieval scholars. (the witcher doesn’t take place in medieval europe but it is certainly influenced by it, and imo historical direction in series like this are always good for the art.)

it’s also really fucking annoying that the netflix staff think they’re so progressive and amazing for adding in like 5 characters of color that almost all serve to support or antagonize the main white leads. the netflix series isn’t even good representation for people of color by a long shot imo and yet it’s touted by its showrunner as something extraordinary. why can’t we have people of color involved while also keeping what is considered as polishness or slavicness. it’s entirely possible, but netflix didn’t want to do either of those things because it wouldn’t get them as much money.

#ask #anon #the witcher netflix

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docholligay · 4 years

Text

Chinese Food in The American West

One of the things I frequently come across as a student of the American West* is that people get most of their information from movies and TV and then act like they know things. Wyatt Earp was not a Lawful Good champion who always did his level best even when it was hard to know. (You want Seth Bullock or Bass Reeves). Racism was far more complicated than white vs not white (I’ve talked about this EXTENSIVELY in Strange Empire, so I’m not going to bore you here**).

And they didn’t just eat steak. In fact, they rarely ate steak.

Steak as cowboy food isn’t INACCURATE, but it is MODERN. From about the early 1900s on, you had less and less drives and more and more ranchers who were staying put, with less and less hands needed, and so food was grabbed less “on the go.” Cows could be slaughtered and used to feed the family, allowing for more opportunities for things like steak, yes, but also things like chili, a play on sauerbraten, southern-style biscuits. The cattle drives were a real blend of culture and race, and a lot of what we have left as “Western food” owes a great deal to that.

And if we leave the cattle drives and head into the towns of the American West, as we will today, we find things like oysters, pies, and various things like that. Far more well-heeled than the general expectation.

I mean, here’s the menu from the Occidental Saloon circa the late 1880s:

Soups

Chicken Giblet and Consumme, with Egg

Fish

Columbia River Salmon, au Beurre Noir

Relieves

Filet a Boeuf, a la Financier

Leg of Lamb, Sauce, Oysters

Cold Meats

Loin of Beef, Loin of Ham, Loin of Pork, Westphalia Ham, Corned Beef, Imported Lunches

Boiled Meats

Leg of Mutton, Ribs of Beef, Corned Beef and Cabbage, Russian River Bacon

Entrees

Pinons a Poulett, aux Champignons

Cream Fricasse of Chicken, Asparagus Points

Lapine Domestique, a la Matire d'Hote

Casserole d'Ritz aux Oeufs, a la Chinoise

Ducks of Mutton, Braze, with Chipoluta Ragout

California Fresh Peach, a la Conde

Roasts

Loin of Beef, Loin of Mutton, Leg of Pork

Apple Sauce, Suckling Pig, with Jelly, Chicken Stuffed Veal

Pastry

Peach, Apple, Plum, and Custard Pies

English Plum Pudding, Hard Sauce, Lemon Flavor

This dinner will be served for 50 cents.

-I got this from the book “Saloons of the Old West” by Erdoes

But none of that is precisely why I’m here, I just can’t stop myself from talking about this, why I’m here is that one of the things I say that often surprises people, is that Chinese food was incredibly common for the, well, common man to eat. There’s very much a conception that we as a non-Chinese American people did not start eating Chinese food until the 40s and 50s, and its truer that it took longer to catch on in the American East than the West simply as a matter of proximity and choice.

Not MORE choice but LESS. Part of what made the West so unique, historically, is that the lack of choice and the basic scarcity caused people to work with and patronize people that their general prejudices would have kept them from using back east, because they had CHOICES. But out in the west, less so. There were few choices for a quick, cheap meal on the go. That dinner I just posted above is a lavish affair, and a great deal at approximately $20.00 in today’s money. (Which does not allow for the fact that cost of supplies has gone up and this dinner would most likely be offered for no less than 70 or so today.)

People desperately wanted something that was cheap and quick, and the other options in the American West were few, far between, and not intensely pleasing. No one had really come up with the sandwich shop as of yet, and in any case, fresh meats and cheeses would have been too difficult for the low-cost supplier.

ENTER THE CHINESE POPULATION.

If you have read my Strange Empire blogs, I hope you know that Chinese people were a huge presence in the American West, mostly working for the railroad and various mines, but also doing things like laundry, work that was extremely hard but took little in the way of English speaking. They existed in Chinatowns, for a combination of cultural and legal factors, but it’s a misconception that non-Chinese*** people never went to Chinatown.

People are not new, and it was not unusual for non-Chinese people to use the laundries, tailoring, and other services of Chinatowns while suppressing the rights of Chinese people int he same breath. There were always individual Chinese people any given non-Chinese person liked and did business with.

In time, they discovered the inherent wisdom of the noodle bowl.

I don’t mean to suggest that all these early restaurants served was noodle bowls, but that was where it all started. Remember, Italian food had little prominence in America at the this time, as Italian immigration didn’t really get into full swing until the 1870s in America. While there are noodle traditions half of everywhere, and there is nothing new under the sun, what we today would consider a stir-fry bowl was wildly new to most of the non-Chinese folks in the West. That it could be offered up so cheaply, was so filling, and so delicious (more on this later) was a wild revelation. Everyone from simple cowboys (which, fun fact! Was a slur back then!) to mayors were swinging by Chinatowns to try the dishes.

By the 1920s, chop suey, a fully Chinese American invention derived from the words for “various leftovers” was a hugely popular American food among all sorts.

Doc, you may ask, was it just that these folks coming through to get medicines or laundry were SO adventurous? Not at all! Chinese restaurants back then actually, in a very short amount of time, realized that their non-Chinese townsfolk were an excellent way to make money as well, and began to adapt and change dishes to better fit the Western palate, leading what we call American Chinese Food today, which is a legitimate foodway I will defend to my death. Unfortunately, none of these menus survive today--the only ones we have are from places in San Francisco, places that were much more posh, and not the subject of this essay.

There is a scene in Tombstone where Wyatt and his brothers are eating Chinese food, and it’s one of the things people often ask me about, assuming it’s anachronistic. Actually, it isn’t at all--the anachronism is that there’s broccoli in those noodle bowls, which had not yet hit our shores by the time of the OK Corral. Chinese food was a huge hit, Chinese restaurants were doing extremely well, and some Chinese restaurants were even beginning to attempt to print menus in English, with sit down areas, instead of serving simple fare from food carts.

As the food from these “chow chow houses” grew in popularity, as we can infer from the advertisements of their competitors promising free potatoes with every meal, and other such niceties to entice, there was, as ever there must be, blowback. Anti-Chinese sentiment grew to a fever pitch, and with this came overt pressure for ‘Good Americans” to patronize ‘American restaurants’. The social pressure is actually where we get some of that old racist jargon about Chinese people serving dogs and cats, which people often think was spread by competitors to degrade the Chinese restaurants, which isn’t UNTRUE, but was just as often said sheepishly by someone who couldn’t stop themselves from going and grabbing a noodle bowl or even the American dishes they offered, such as roast chicken or pork chop sandwiches.

(I won’t comment with anything but an eyeroll on the bullshit of people saying they’re ~allergic to MSG~ okay I’ll believe you when you stop eating processed food, meat, aged cheese)

It actually kept this type of reputation as being slightly scandalous well into the early 1900s, as being something you ate after the bar, something to be had in the shadows, but it was all for naught, because Chinese food became an important part of American identity. But for all that, no one ever pictures the Lone Ranger chowing down (the American phrase ‘chow’ for food actually comes from these ‘chow chow houses’) on some chop suey, but there’s every reason to believe he would have. American Chinese food is just as American as the Germanically-influenced hamburger.

(There’s a whole subtopic to go down about Jewish and Chinese communities and Kosher Chinese Food, two marginalized and othered communities coming together, but that’s a WHOLE other topic)

(Also someone please buy me Chinese food. This shit always makes me so hungry.)

*The American West is a specific time period, as far as the study of history goes. It covers the period between the end of the Civil War and the New Century, generally, and is, obviously, concerned with the western half of the country. It doesn’t cover stuff like Lewis and Clark (that’s Expansion) or even the Civil War itself, though you cannot possibly hope to study the American West in any level of seriousness without understanding the Civil War. Anyway! I know a lot about America between 1865 and 1900, and am just knowledgeable enough to be dangerous on everything else. Most History nerds are highly specified like this. We’re not as much help to your trivia team as you think.****

**I actually have had little chance to talk about ~European-style xenophobia~ as it played out in the west, because Strange Empire takes a more modern pass at it. But there was a hierarchy of “whiteness” as well, as still largely exists in Europe, land of intentionally clean ethnostates.

***I use the term “non-Chinese” instead of white because believe it or not, non-white people were not magically free of racism against Chinese people. It was horrific and BASICALLY every non-Chinese person was guilty of it to some level, a wild-ass level of hatred that led to Chinese folks not being able to PURCHASE PROPERTY BY LAW in ENTIRE STATES. Being Chinese or Native in this place and time was your Worst Bet.

****I actually was on a competitive trivia team, you DO want me.

#That was Oddly Specific #Holligay is 34: The celebration

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kpopaddicted06 · 4 years

Text

My lucky day - one shot

Summary: I just meet him, I don’t even know his name but my heart beats faster just thinking about him.

pairing: Stray Kids’s Lee Minho x reader

genre: strangers to lovers au

type: fluff, slight angst, slight comedy

words: 3.9k

warnings: none

A/N: Hey guys!! This is my first time writing something, so please bear with me (also english isn’t my first language). Hope you’ll like it and feedback is always welcomed! Thanks for taking time to read it!

I was awakened by my annoying alarm at 6:30AM. I got out of my bed and entered the bathroom that’s inside my room, took a quick shower and then prepared to go out for a walk in the park with my dog Kkami, before my first class starts today. I was dressed in a white t-shirt, blue jeans, a black leather jacket and my favourite pair of black sneakers. I got my phone, the key of my apartment and put the leash on Kkami; finally at 7:02AM I left the apartment after I made sure to lock it.

The park was quiet this morning and the sunrise was coming up. Inside the park were only a few people jogging because it was still early in the morning. I like it when I’m outside with Kkami, it’s so relaxing and it energizes me for the day. I was near the middle of the park when I heard a few voices laughing a bit too loud so I turned my head in the direction of where the sound was coming. There I saw a group of boys, probably about my age. They were really good looking, and I didn’t realise I was staring at them until when I realized one of them looking back at me with amusement in his eyes.

Fuck I got caught staring! This is so embarrassing...

I felt my face turning pink from blushing out of embarrassment. The boy was still looking at me, but now he had an unreadable look on his face. I started to walk faster and left the park earlier than usual.

When I got back home I put some food and water in Kkami’s bowls and made a sandwich for myself. While I was chewing it my mind got back at the boy from earlier and at how handsome he really was. I was thinking if maybe I would meet him again in park another day. When I finished my meal I put the plate in the sink to wash it later. It was 8:30AM already, I was having my first class at 10AM so I took my backpack from my room, said goodbye to my cute little dog and left the apartment. I decided to walk instead of taking the bus today as I had enough time, so I could buy my favourite drink too, a latte macchiato from the coffee shop that was on the way to my college.

When I entered the shop, the smell of coffee hit me and made me smile instantly. I got in line to order, there was only one person before me so I didn’t have to wait for too long. I told the worker what drink I wanted and paid for it. He told me it will take 5 minutes to be done so I waited patiently on a chair. While looking out the window, I heard the ‘ding’ from the door announcing another costumer coming in. I turned my head in the direction of the door just to see the same guy from earlier in the park, accompanied by just a few of his friends, now coming in. I immediately turned my head so he won’t see me, but to my luck my name was called because my latte was ready, so I had to go to the counter next to them. All their heads turned and looked at me for a second but only he made eye contact with me for a moment before I heard somebody clear their throat, the poor worker was still waiting for me to get my drink and leave. After I got it I bid my goodbye and left quickly, but not before stealing another glance at that boy just to see him already looking at me but this time he was giving me a smile, making me realise he was looking really cute, like a bunny. Seeing his smile made my lips curve almost automatically in a smile mirroring his. Seeing me smile back at him, he sent me a wink and then turned to place his command when the boys called him but unfortunately I didn’t catch his name. After leaving the coffee shop I was a blushing mess because of that cute guy and I don’t even know his name...

I walked to my university with that boy’s smile still in my head, and I didn’t even heard my best friend calling my name a few times.

“Why are you so happy in this morning? Did you got your day off from your job?” Dahyun asked me sensing already that something good happened because I’m usually grumpy in the mornings.

“No, actually is something better!” I was grinning at Dahyun who was still waiting for me to say the reason of my sudden happiness.

So I started to explain my two encounters from this morning with the mysterious boy who’s name I still needed to find out.

“OMG! Which were the chances to meet twice already? But why didn’t you ask for his name or number the second time you meet? What if you won’t see him again? What if you only had this chance to make your first boyfriend so you won’t die alone?” Dahyun started to ask a lot of questions, but I cut her off offended when she said that I need a boyfriend so I won’t die alone.

“Hey! I won’t die alone just because I don’t have a boyfriend, I have my baby Kkami! So don’t start with your theory that a boyfriend would make me happier!” I say loud and smake her arm to shut her up, already feed up with her suggestions that I need a boy in my life.

“I was just saying that again because your smile was so bright when you told me about him, I can see clearly that you like him already... You know I just want you to be happy, because after your brother left in Europe your mood was down and you were smiling less...” Dahyun was looking down not facing me anymore, she knows I’m getting sad when I’m thinking about my brother who left because he didn’t like living here where our parents would nag him from everything he was doing wrong.

“Ok maybe you are right.... I should try looking for him maybe tomorrow at the park and ask his name at least.”

“Yay!! You will finally make a boyfriend so I can tease you about it!” she was grinning like a fool at me now. I just looked at her with my best dead glare I could muster up and left for my class that was opposite of her because we are in different majors. I could hear her saying “sorry” and a “see you later” while laughing at my reaction.

I finished my 10-12 class and left in the direction of the canteen where I will have my lunch with Dahyun. At the lunch she was still teasing me that I finally took interest in a boy and that she’s proud of me for growing up because I’m her baby and I was so close to beat her up so she could shut up already. When I finished my food I was so happy I could leave from Dahyun because she was starting to give me a headache when she got too far talking about my sex life.

I finished my classes for the day at 4PM, I took the bus home so I could arrive faster to feed Kkami, leave my backpack home and go to my workplace. I’m working at an arcade from 5PM to 9PM from Monday to Friday and in weekends I’m working from 8AM to 2PM.

I like working there because my boss is really good and lets me play games and eat food for free, and all the work I need to do is supervise the people so they won’t break the game machines and to serve them the food they buy.

It was a quiet night because it was Tuesday, and the most people that are coming here are kids and they have school, so it’s busier in the weekends. It’s boring because only a few people are inside playing games right now, so I decided to go on my social media account to distract myself so the time would fly faster. After 2 hours on my shift, a group of boys walked in and my heart skipper a beat when I saw it was the same group I meet in the park and the coffee shop this morning.

They all greeted me at unison and I shyly greeted them back while asking if they would want something to eat while playing games.

The one who answered me was the boy I had in my mind the whole day.

“I want 8 packs of ramen and 8 cans of Coca-Cola, please.” He was flashing me his charming smile while locking eyes with me. Oh God…not only he is gorgeous but his voice was like music to my ears.

“O-of course, that would be $67 and I will bring it to you when the ramen it’s done.” I said smiling shyly and embarrassed from my shuttering because his gaze on me made my heart beat like crazy against my rib cage.

He was smiling wider after my response. “Thanks, pretty.” He said while giving me the money. Then he left to join his group of friends, leaving me there with my face all red like a tomato probably, after hearing the nickname.

After 20 minutes I got all the ramen done for them and I put all 8 packs on 2 trays and started to make my way to them but I was struggling with so much ramen and almost dropped one on the floor, but to my surprise a hand catched it before that could happen. Before my eyes was again the good looking boy who just saved me from my struggle. He took one of the trays without saying anything to me and helped me give them to his friends. When we were done he came with me to put the tray back.

“Thank you for helping me…” I said while biting my lower lip and looking down because I couldn’t make eye contact due to my shy personality.

I felt two fingers under my chin trying to raise my head up so I could look at his face. He was closer than I expected, I felt flustered and I could feel my blood going up to my cheeks. Up close I could see his beautiful dark brown eyes that were shining. He has very long eyelashes, his lips are plump and look so soft, making me want to kiss him to confirm it but I snap out of my staring when he says “It’s rude to stare, you know?” I cough and murmur an apology at that. “Do you need something else?” I ask as I try to put some distance between us, but he doesn’t let my chin go and he gets even closer than before. “Yes. I want your name and number.” I swear my heart just stopped beating right at that moment and I forgot how to breathe. The guy I just meet today and catched my interest wanted my number... I can’t believe my luck today! “Well my name is Y/F/N and about my phone number, before I give it to you I should know your name too, don’t you think so?” I ask more confident now because I don’t want to make a fool out of myself. “Of course. My name is Lee Minho and it’s a pleasure to meet you three times in a day already, beautiful.“ There goes my confidence right out the window because of that stupid nickname, making my poor heart suffering too much for one day already. Even his name is perfect and suitable for his God like looks. I gulp and try to look unaffected by his closeness. “Give me your phone then, Minho.” He hands me his phone, our fingers brushing in the process and I blush a little again. I save my number and send a message to myself quickly to have his number too, then hand his phone back to him. “Thanks. I will message you later, Y/N.” I liked the way my name sounded coming out of his mouth. After that he went back to his friend to play games, while I kept stealing glances in his way to see him sometimes.

After another hour or so, Minho and his group of friends left and the place became quiet again. Until my shift ended I eated a pack of ramen too because it was free thanks to my kind boss, so why not. After I finished cleaning I got my things and left home. Kkami jumped on me when I entered my apartment, happy to see me again after so many hours alone. I feed him again and left to take a shower and change in my pajamas. When I was done it was already 11PM so I went at my desk to write at my easy that’s due in a week. While I was writing I got a notification. A message from Minho! I unlocked my phone and opened the message.

I can't believe he just asked me out on a date! OMG!!

After the message from Minho I couldn’t focus on my task anymore, so I went to bed and sent a message to Dahyun, informing her about my date on Saturday and ask her for help, to which she of course agrees. The rest of the week went faster now that I was waiting for my date. While doing my shift at work, I observe it’s almost 12PM, which means that I should still have 2 more hours of work to do, but I asked my boss for permission to leave earlier today, to which he agreed, saying he would handle the arcade and I promised I would work 2 more hours tomorrow and thanked him. The clock was 12:00PM now so I quickly got my things and headed home where I will meet my best friend to help me get ready for the date.

Dahyun did my make-up natural and my hair in curls. She picked for me to wear a baby pink summer dress with white sandals, since it was May now, so it's warm enough outside for a dress. When I was ready I looked at my reflection in the mirror and I thought I looked good enough for a first date.

"Thanks for the help, Dahyun!"

"You’re welcome and good luck on your date!"

We hugged each other and I left my apartament after taking my purse, letting her stay over with Kkami because she wanted to study but couldn't at her home, as her 8 year old sister would bother her, that plus she wanted to hear the details of my date as soon as possible. When I arrived at the set place it was 3:03PM already. Minho didn't say exactly where we would meet in the park but I got a feeling he was referring to the place we first saw each other a few day ago. But when I got there I didn't saw him nowhere. I was about to reach my phone to call him when I felt a hand on my waist. I quickly turned to see who it was and I was welcomed by Minho’s beautiful smile.

"Hi. You look gorgeous."

"Hi! You look handsome too." I got a better look at him, he was wearing a white shirt, black jeans and sneakers. His hair was parted and I could see his forehead, he was wearing earrigs and a chain to complete his look; in conclusion he was breathtaking. He took my hand in his and started to head out of the park.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise." He said smiling, but I could sense he was a bit nervous about the surprise he told me about.

He took me to the mall and I thought maybe we will go to eat something or see a movie, but I didn't expect him to enter an Animal Coffee Shop. He looked at my face searching for any hints of dislike to his surprise, and when he saw my happy expression he started to talk.

"First time I saw you was at the park, you were walking with your dog, that by the way is very cute, and the second time we met was at the coffee shop so I thought this place would be perfect for our first date. What do you think?"

"I love it! So what’s your favourite animal?"

"Cats, I love cats! Actually I have 3 at home!" He looked so excited to talk about his cats and I loved listening to him talking about them. We continued to talk about our animals and then about us. I found out that he's 3 years older than me, that he always hangs out with the other seven guys I saw him with before because they’ve been best friends for a few years already and that his major is in dance. I asked him to show me his dancing skills and he promised to show them on our next date, to witch I happily accepted. After we played more with the animals and finished our coffee, which Minho ended up paying for after we had a little argument about who’s gonna do it, we left the shop, promising him I’ll pay next time.

After our amazing time at the animal coffee shop we walked by the Han River and he bought us ice cream. I felt very relaxed and comfortable all the time we talked. I opened very easily to him and I felt like I’ve knew him for years. He is very funny and I realised he has a 4D personality. Minho walked me home after some more time spent by the river.

"I had a great time today, thanks Minho!"

"Me too. See you next week. Good night, princess." He said, then leaned to kiss my forehead.

"Good night." I murmured shyly and I could swear I heard him whisper a "cute". After that he left and I entered my apartment where Dahyun jumped on me and started asking a ton of questions like always and I told her that I had a great time and we are planning already our next date to which she was really happy to hear. She spent the night with me so we could talk more and have a movie night, which I regretted agreeing to because I had to work the next day.

Me and Minho have already been on four dates and all of them were incredible. On the second date we went to karaoke so he could show me his dancing and to hear his singing. I was shocked and very impressed because he's really talented and I could see his passion and love for what he’s doing. On the third date I meet his friends and ended having a game night with them all. I learned that all of them are dancing and singing, and that they’re really funny and kind. I really liked his friends, and I think they like me too since they invited me to their movies night next Friday. On our fourth date we went to an amusement park where Minho won me a bunny plush.

Now it was the time for our fifth date and I could see that Minho was a little bit nervous, and I didn't understand why. We were at the Han River to have a picnic and Minho looked like he wanted to say something but he’s hesitating, he looked lost at the river so I tried to help him.

"Minho?"

He snaped his head in my direction even more nervous now.

"Yes?"

"Do you want to say something? Because I can see how nervous you are. You know you can tell me anything, right?"

I talked softly to encourage him to speak. He noded his head and a sight escaped his plumps lips.

"I actually have a question to ask you..."

I noded my head for him to continue. He was chewing nervous on his lower lip, then suddenly took my hands in his and locked eyes with me.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” He looked in my eyes hopeful.

“Of course!” I said smiling and blushing a little bit. Then he started leaning in and my breath got caught in my throat. He was close that I could even count how many eyelashes he has, I could feel his breath on my lips and at that moment I closed my eyes anticipating the feeling of his soft looking lips on mine. Minho closed the remaining distance between us and the moment I felt his lips on mine, I felt butterflies in my stomach. His lips were soft and gentle moving against mine, I was captured in the feeling of his lips like a speel that was put on me, so I could only focus on the kiss. When he started putting more pressure and titled his head to deepen the kiss my mind just went crazy. I kissed him back with the same passion he did and I could feel him smile against my mouth. When we broke the kiss to catch our breath we stayed with our foreheads against each other.

This was our first kiss and I realised that he wanted me to be his girlfriend before we kissed, I thought that’s really cute from him.

“I like you, Y/N.”

“I like you too, Minho.”

He kissed me again but this time was shorter that the first and when I leaned back to kiss him again he turned his head so I kissed his cheek instead. I pouted and he laughed at my reaction and started to smooch my cheeks saying that I’m cute.

“I will kiss you later don’t worry, but first you need to eat because I put a lot of effort in cooking those dishes.”

“You cooked all this? Because you know, the last time I saw you trying to make something you almost burned down the kitchen...“ I raised an eyebrow at him. He blushed a little embarrassed at the memory.

“Well, I got help from the boys too...”

“Oh! I missed seeing you struggling in the kitchen with the boys then. That’s a shame!” I laughed louder when I saw he’s pouting from my teasing and I kissed his nose before I started eating. At that moment his pout was replaced by his cute bunny smile.

“Wow! This is actually really good! Thanks for cooking for me Minho, I really appreciat it.” I smiled happily at him.

“I’m glad you like it, princess.” The smile he gave me was so genuine that I could feel his feelings for me from it, and that warmed my heart.

I feel really lucky that Minho entered my life, because he’s making me really happy. Seeing his smile makes me want to keep him happy forever. I really like him and I can say that I’m already falling in love with him even after just one month of knowing him. I can almost say that I love him and I can see his feelings are the same for me from the way he looks at me and his gestures thowards me.

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