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jeonqukie · 4 years

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PLAYING CUPID / 01.

SYNOPSIS / Consistently overshadowed by your older sister, you expect your days in high school to be filled with plastic smiles and apathetic peers with hidden intentions. Everything changes when four of the most popular guys in school join you and your best friend for lunch on the first day of school.

FEATURING / Kim Namjoon; appearances by Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Jeon Jungkook.

GENRES & TAGS / high school au, freshman reader, senior namjoon, student council president namjoon, best friend jungkook, lots of fluff, and some angst.

WARNINGS / Graphic and mature language, slight age difference/gap (to clarify, oc is 14-15 yrs old and namjoon is 17 - first part is rated pg); list will be updated as fic is updated accordingly.

WORD COUNT / ~10.3k

NOTES / I am a day late in posting this and I want to let you guys know that this is... not edited at all and I will be looking through this every now and then to correct any errors. But I hope you enjoy the first part of this series! I wasn’t expecting this to be relatively long, but it was all to set up the characters dynamics and the history behind the reader and Namjoon’s relationship. Any feedback is appreciated. To repeat, I’m so sorry this was super late. Please expect part 2 to be up in ~2 weeks. (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

All rights reserved © jeonqukie (formerly known as aiscka). All (or portions) of my work may not be reproduced, redistributed, reclaimed, translated, modified, or used in any way whatsoever without my permission.

“You’re Sena’s little sister, right?”

You’d be a damn millionaire if you made a dollar for every person on campus tried to break the ice with you. It was a severe understatement to say that your older sister was known around town. She was vice president of the student council, president of the debate club, and the best player on the varsity volleyball team. All of the teachers and faculty adored her, every girl wanted to be her, and every guy wanted to be with her.

For the longest time, you assumed your sister was a celebrity on campus.

You were so wrong.

It was because you never met him. You’ve heard his name so many times whenever your sister had sleepovers with her friends or when she was on the phone with a friend, whispering so softly into the receiver, afraid that someone would find out about that she had a crush on him. You were perplexed because you thought your sister was a very forward person; she had so much confidence talking to so many guys who desperately wanted her attention yet somehow her palms would sweat over him.

“Hey, you know who Kim Namjoon is?” You would sit at the cafeteria for the first time with your best friend, Jungkook, who had devoured half of his ham and cheese croissant sandwich. He looks at you and he would raise one brow.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who’s obsessed with hyung.” But Jungkook sees the genuine confusion form on your face. You catch a glimpse of your older sister who sat on the other side of the cafeteria, thumbing a reply on her phone while her friend nudges at her when she sees the notorious posse that every girl swoons over.

It was a scene right out of a movie.

At that time, you had the faintest idea who they were, but you were quick to find out why they were so well known around campus. Jung Hoseok was the senior of the group; he was a dancer and was featured in numerous music videos by well-known artists and he had an extensive list of choreographers willing to work with him. Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin were inseparable; they were juniors who ran the school newspaper and the school yearbook – Taehyung being in charge of the photography while Jimin being in charge of the organizing the yearbook staff. Meanwhile, there was Kim Namjoon; student council president, valedictorian of his class, member of the honor society and numerous organizations on campus.

“Wait, you know who Namjoon is?” You were curious whether Jungkook knew of him, not exactly knowing the guy.

“Yeah. I mean, he’s been my next-door neighbor for god knows how long. His folks and mine go out for golfing twice a month.” You just nod to his answer when you are shoving a chocolate moon pie into your mouth.

But your mouth instantly goes dry when the four guys appear right across from you and Jungkook are seated.

“Gukie!” Hoseok exclaimed at the sight of Jungkook still devouring his croissant. “Look at you! Finally, you’re with the hyungs in high school.” The tease made Jungkook’s ears go pink and you feel your own face get hot; not because of second hand embarrassment, but because you can see everyone’s eyes on you – the two freshmen who had no right to be sharing a table with, what you can only assume, the four most popular guys on campus.

There were many times where people would only want to get to know you because of your sister; girls wanted to get close to you because you were had a cool older sister and boys wanted to be with you because they were so eager to come over to your place and obsess over Sena.

Jungkook, on the other hand, had no interest in her. As a matter of fact, you met Jungkook when you were in middle school and took a swimming class and later found out that you two were in the same class and bonded over your competitive nature in swim class.

“Who’s this? You got a girlfriend on your first day already?” You and Jungkook exchange a look of disgust with each other and create a sensible amount of space for each other to establish that you both see each other as friends.

“Oh my god, wait – you’re Sena’s little sister, right?” Hoseok corrected Jimin who had made the assumption you and Jungkook were an item. Jungkook can see the way you scrunch your nose from his periphery, and he decides to answer for you instead.

“This is YN. She’s… literally been my best friend since middle school.” Jungkook introduces you to the four people right across from you. “YN, this is Hoseok – well, I call him Hobi-hyung. This is Jimin-hyung and Tae-hyung. I’m pretty sure you know Namjoon-hyung because –”

“ – school council president.” You interrupt because you didn’t want Jungkook to reveal that you had been inquiring about him earlier. “I remember because you made that welcome speech this morning at the assembly.”

Namjoon is rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment and you resume eating your packed lunch, despite losing all appetite because you are surrounded by so many people did not know. They weren’t terrible people, but you weren’t mentally prepared for such strong personalities and dynamics to be introduced all at once. You felt like an intruder – a fly on the wall – because everyone carried on with their normal conversations; Jungkook and Hoseok were talking about plans for the weekend and then Jimin and Taehyung were already drafting out ideas for the yearbook. Meanwhile, you sat in silence as you ate your tuna salad sandwich, reading a new book you were gifted over the summer by your parents.

“Let me know when you’re done.” A voice catches your attention, and you stop all chewing. “The book, I mean.” Namjoon clarifies and he sees that you are already halfway done with it. “I read it a year ago and I’d like to hear what you think of it.” He offers you a heartwarming smile and you nod once, returning the same grin.

“I started it a week ago. I really like it so far.” The conversation is light and drowned out by the loud voices beside you.

You never really pinned him as a reader.

“So, how’s your first day so far?” He inquires and you honestly thought that the conversation was… over. Normally, that’s how all the conversations go when people find out your Sena’s little sister. They feign their interest in you and instantaneously ask about her.

“It’s… nothing special.” You admit, smoothing your fingers on the pages of the book. “Most of the classes I have before lunch, Guk’s with me. Now –”

“Now, her large, wrinkled brain is going to abandon me and get into those advanced program and honors classes.” You are rolling your eyes at your best friend who whines that you decided not to take the same classes as him.

“We literally have homeroom, social studies, and PE together and then we see each other for breaks and lunch. I think you’ll live.” The group laughs which earns quite a bit of stares from outsiders, but they seem to be completely unfazed by it. Everyone turns back to their own conversations and, usually, your social presence isn’t necessarily sought out by people.

It wasn’t until you hear another inquiry fall out of Namjoon’s mouth.

“What do you have right after lunch?”

“Biology.”

“Honors biology, by the way. Can’t you spare just one regular class for me? Or does your GPA really matter that much to you?” Jungkook complains and you are left ignoring his comments.

If there was one thing that your older sister taught you (something you actually agree with) is that colleges love a good GPA and joining as many clubs as possible. You even remembered how she’d phrase it for you; college admissions officers will cream their pants when you score that 4.0 GPA and do something out of the box from the rest of your peers.

“Or just get smarter, Guk.” Hoseok poked fun at Jungkook, earning a shrug from Jungkook. Namjoon, on the other hand, is smiling from ear to ear at the dynamic between the elder and the youngest of the group.

“Let me see your schedule.” Namjoon urges as he spots your clear binder which has your printed schedule on the cover. You push over your binder to Namjoon who is scanning your binder; he reads through your name, your birth date, the list of teachers you had for the semester and the classes assigned to you.

You feel indifferent about the sudden attention on you, especially from Namjoon; a mere stranger who everyone obsessed over was so piqued by you. You observe the way the corner of his slips curve into an impressive smirk as he glances over at Hoseok.

“Guess who we have for calculus at the end of the day?” He slides over your binder where the rest of the group examine the rest of your schedule, only for Hoseok to find a coinciding class with you.

“How the fuck are you in a senior’s class? Are you some math whiz or something?” Taehyung’s eyes widen at the sight of an advanced calculus class on your schedule. It was one of the things you were proud of you; you were good at math – it happened to be Sena’s worst subject and your parents often joke what she lacked; you had gained immensely.

“Yeah, YN’s cracked, hyung. I don’t understand. I remember in middle school they had to make arrangements for her to get into a pre-caclulus class or some shit like that.” Jungkook finishes his fruit cup and gathers all of the trash on site to toss over to the closest garbage bin.

Namjoon is sliding your binder right back at you, brows raised at you with the same grin he had on. He stares at you for what seemed like a long time – to you, it seemed like a long time and he is glancing back down at where your fingers brush against each other and he pulls away, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable.

“I – um, saw that you were taking orchestra too.”

You nod and chew on your cheek, self-conscious all of a sudden about your appearance because you are very much aware that Namjoon is examining every aspect of your face.

“Yeah. I mean, I already know how to play the piano, so I might as well learn how to play another instrument, right?”

“No – yeah, you’re right.” He stammers and he folds his hands together only to be interrupted by Jimin tossing over a bag of pretzels at Namjoon.

“Bell’s about to ring. Pretzels was all they had left. We need to head to physics soon.” Taehyung and Jimin are swinging their bags over their shoulders. Hoseok is too busy on his phone, showing Jungkook a video of his new choreography.

Suddenly, you are receiving a plethora of notifications in the depths of your jean pocket. Your fingers unlock your phone only to reveal a series of text messages from your sister.

Sena [12:29]: Did you just spend your entire lunch with Kim Namjoon?

Sena [12:32]: Earth to YN?

Sena [12:39]: GUK IS FRIENDS WITH ALL 4 OF THEM.

Sena [12:41]: You have officially made a fucking impression to this school. I’m so proud of you. You’re sitting with us at lunch tomorrow.

“Guess I’ll see you later, YN.” The bell doesn’t descend you back to reality. Instead, it was his voice that brings you to pack up your things into your bag. “You might want to sit at the back for Mr. Lu’s biology class; he’s a spitter.” Namjoon swings his backpack over his shoulder. “He reuses the same lesson plan every year. If you need any help with them, you know who to look for.”

As you’re swinging your own bag, Namjoon leaves you with a wink as he is exiting the doors of the cafeteria into the school hallways.

Now, you understand why the entire world was obsessed with Kim Namjoon.

“Alright, let’s get started,” Mrs. Kang, your calculus, is a middle-aged woman who didn’t look like she had aged past thirty. You found it incredibly hard to believe the woman was nearly in her mid-forties who had three kids of her own. She looked like a stern woman but had a good heart from what you remembered; she only wanted what was best for the class even though it meant tormenting them with a shit ton of homework. “I don’t need to go over the syllabus with you bunch. As you can see, this is a much smaller class than a regular class because not a lot of people pass this class.”

Silence fills the room from when you had first arrived. You were one of the last few people to find your seat because your class was all the way on the other side of campus. It seemed like everyone in your class were juniors or seniors. There were so many of them who knew each other from previous classes; they were all huddled in their own designated spots in the class, so you sat at the front of the class because all the seats at the back had been taken and it may help that you’re at the front because it’ll force you to pay attention.

“There’s a lot of material to cover and there’s only so much I can do. Since we’ve implemented the new block schedule, we’ll only be seeing each other for an hour and a half every Wednesdays and Fridays. First thirty minutes will be on new material, next thirty minutes will be spent on practice problems, and then the last thirty minutes will be working with your partner on getting your homework started. I’ve figured getting a head start on the homework for the last thirty minutes will be helpful just in case you or your partner are lost, you have me to ask for assistance.”

Someone’s hand raises up in the air out of your periphery.

Mrs. Kang points to them. “Yes, Namjoon?”

“How do we determine who are partners will be?”

“Please tell me we get to pick our partners.” Mrs. Kang is already turning her back to the class as she searches for a box that had been hidden behind her computer monitor only for her shake the contents of the box.

“The last time I gave the students the opportunity to choose who their partner was, I’ve written a disciplinary notice for academic dishonesty twice a week.” Mrs. Kang prefaced, and the room goes silent. As she continues ruffling through folded papers inside the wooden box, you are already aware of how the partner system is going to work.

Everything was going to be randomly assigned.

“We have 26 of you total which means there will be 13 pairs.” Mrs. Kang announces, and she walks around the class starting from the left where the person is picking a folded paper out of the box. Each person who had unfolded their paper sat patiently until Mrs. Kang had completed distributing the paired assignments around the room. She is fetching a pen and paper as she sits on her desk.

“Alright, our first pair is –” Mrs. Kang looks up to see two people raise their hands; it had been Hoseok and a girl with the prettiest bangs named Mimi. Mrs. Kang continued jotting down the pairs until you scanned the number on your own paper; a large 12 inscribed on your already tattered paper.

You hear Mrs. Kang’s voice as she calls out for the twelfth pair and you raise your hand. You don’t see anyone in your periphery raise their hands, so you turn your body around to search for your partner.

Your body turns cold and still, but you can feel your cheeks get warm at the sight of Namjoon seated down at the back with Hoseok with his hands raised, revealing that he had pulled the same number as you. The thumping in your heart is loud and it beats hard as each moment passes.

Both your hands lower and you are trying to turn your attention back to the front of the class where your teacher stood, but you can feel his eyes on you. You remembered scolding yourself, unaware of why you were so nervous and so shocked to be his partner – he saw you nothing more than another classmate; someone to help him with his assignments.

“Perfect! Since we have our pairs, everyone will be sitting next to their partner from now on; I don’t care where it’ll be. I just need you to sit with them, so we’re not scrambling at the last thirty minutes of class to find them.” Mrs. Kang says sternly, clearly not wanting to waste time in this class. “Shall we begin?”

“How do you already have so much shit to do?” Jungkook laid comfortably on your bed, shoving down salt and vinegar potato chips that your parents had bought from the store last weekend. “Do you like never take a break from reading or what?”

“It’s just a really interesting book.” You say as you flip through the next page and bite into an apple.

You two laid on your bed, basking in the afternoon sun. Normally, you two didn’t have this much down time. Last summer, you two volunteered to be camp counselors to lessen the boredom you two would endure. It was either that or spending every goddamn weekend on the golf course with Jungkook’s parents and yours.

“I was thinking of trying out for the track & field team.” Jungkook informs you and you resume reading. “Namjoon-hyung tells me that the team runs right after school and it sounds fun. Events are early though, and we all know I’m not an early riser.”

The mention of Namjoon urged you to reminisce back to your last period that day. Mrs. Kang mentioned that she wasn’t going to let the class immediately sit right next to their homework partner – thank god. You just wouldn’t know what to talk about with him; you don’t really know what to talk about with people because they always somehow led the conversation back to your older sister.

But, at the end of class, he did manage to keep up with you as you hastily packed all your items into the bag before you darted outside of the classroom. You planned on walking home with Jungkook and you two would meet at the front of the school. Namjoon, somehow, caught up to you in time.

He had grabbed your arm and greeted with you with his million-dollar smile. “Hey,” He breathes, and you stop to offer him a meeker and shier smile.

“Hi, what’s up?”

“You’re meeting with Guk?”

You give him a single nod before he hands you two pieces of paper. You’re curious as to what they are, and you see the words parent’s consent form along with the health forms to give to a doctor – for a physical.

“He’ll know what they’re for.” He reassured you and you hold onto the forms. “Thanks for that. I have to go; I have a meeting in five minutes with the student council.”

“I’ll be sure to give it to him. Was there anything else you wanted to tell him?”

He shakes his head, and he starts reversing his steps, clutching onto the straps of his bags. “I – um, I’m really looking forward for calculus – you know, the whole partner thing. I must be really lucky to be partnered with a cracked, math whiz like you.”

Now, you’re blushing because you weren’t really sure if you were supposed to be flattered or offended.

And he read you so well because he is suddenly panicking but he hid it. He stops his reverses, and he takes one step closer to you.

“I’ll see you and Guk at lunch tomorrow, if that’s alright?” He hums; his voice sounded so soft and clear to you – no one can hear a single thing he had said to you, but you heard him bright as day. Suddenly, you feel a grin creep up to your mouth and you nod once. You had regained some of your confidence back and Namjoon can see it. “Cool, well, I’ll see you ‘round, YN.”

“Earth to YN.” Jungkook snaps at you and you pay attention to your friend who is lying next to you. “Did you hear a single thing I said?”

“Sorry ‘bout that. I dozed for a couple minutes.” You admit and he scrunches his brows, dismissing your moment of silence.

“I was asking how it was like to be in a class of seniors.”

“There’s no difference, honestly.” You begin your thought. “It sucks just because I don’t really know anyone, and everyone knows everyone.”

“Yeah, but you have Namjoon-hyung and Hobi-hyung.” Jungkook reassures you. “They’re basically your friends now because we’ll be hanging around them a lot.”

You weren’t sure if you were looking forward to or nervous to be spending a lot more time with the older guys. They made a good first impression on you though; they’ve probably only mentioned your sister’s name once. Granted, it was only thirty minutes spent together, but it was so much better than most of the conversations you’ve had with everybody else.

“That’s true. I have Namjoon as my homework partner, so I’ll… definitely need to get along with him.” You chuckle under your breath as you read through each line without comprehending a single thing. Your mind had been so clouded with the idea of Namjoon and you weren’t sure why.

Jungkook decided not to stay for dinner that evening even though mom made two pans of lasagna to feed a village. However, he did help you and your mother prepare it. Your mom was pretty insistent on it, so you promise that you’d be giving him some leftovers for lunch the next day. Your dad arrived home next; it was a typical evening – he beelined to your mom, planted a kiss on her cheek and patted your back before he hastily moved to the office to continue working. Sena arrived home from school at a later hour than usual before she was already setting the plates on the dining table.

“Alright, Guk, final offer.” Your mother says as she is pulling out two piping pans of lasagna out of the oven.

“No, thanks, Mrs. LN.” He respectfully declines before he is swinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Mom’s expecting me home right about now for dinner. I’ll definitely ask YN to pack me up some leftovers though.”

“Alright.” She waves him a goodbye before you are showing him to the door. “Walk home safely.” She bids him a goodbye softly as she pulls the foils off the pan.

“Pack me an extra serving, please.” Jungkook pleads and you roll your eyes before he already made his way out of the door.

“Honey, dinner’s ready!”

“You did not tell me Jungkook was friends with Namjoon.” Sena settles herself on the dining table and you sit right across from her, waiting for your mom to begin serving everyone a slice of lasagna.

“Quite frankly, I didn’t know Jungkook even knew Namjoon either. I’d say I’m just as surprised as you are, but I really don’t know what the fascination is with Namjoon.” You lied through your teeth as your mom serves herself first (she called dibs on the corner piece) and you decide on getting the smallest piece since you weren’t so hungry that evening.

“Are you talking about Mr. and Mrs. Kim’s son? Is this the same Namjoon we’re talking about right now?” Your mom’s curiosity is evident in her tone, taking small bites out of a side salad she had prepared.

“Yes, and Sena is hopelessly in love with him.” You shove the lettuce into your mouth as you wait for your lasagna serving to cool down momentarily.

“How can you not be in love with him?” She breathes out hastily. Your dad has his brows raised in disbelief; his daughter talking endlessly about her crush.

“He is a nice boy; responsible, kind, gentle, polite, seems to get things done, really cute too.” Your mom lists his never-ending advantages, and you stray away from their eyes because you hate the admit that you find him incredibly cute.

“Can we please talk about something other than this boy?” Your father is already exhausted from listening to you talk about Namjoon and you don’t blame him, really. “How was the first day for you, dear?” He refers to you and you are still chewing on your dinner.

“I have three classes with Guk. I like all of my classes so far; I can already tell calculus is going to be… a lot of work. We have a test every week and we mandatory study sessions after school for the exam to qualify for college credits. Thankfully, I have a partner to work with just in case I don’t understand anything. There’s also –”

“Who’s your partner? Maybe I know them.”

Your silence is defeating, and you look at your dad who is waiting for his answer and you dart your eyes back at Sena who is piecing the puzzle in her head, so she drops her mouth open, gasping at your lack of a response.

“No fucking way!”

“Language, please, Sena.” Your mom scolds.

“I mean, you’ve been in the same classes as him before! I’m sure you’ve been in a group project with him or something. You guys are in the same clubs. I don’t understand why you haven’t asked him out.” You weren’t so sure what motivated you to blurt it all out because your sister was definitely a good catch, but the obsession with him was getting way out of hand.

“That’s ridiculous, YN. I would never ask out a guy. I don’t even know he likes me that way.” Sena is taking small bites out of her dinner and you sigh to yourself, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “If there was only a way for me to find out. It’s not like I have a sister who’s partners with him in a class – oh, she’s also best friends with his next-door neighbor! How convenient.”

She eyes at you where you decide to focus on your meal, but her eyes are pleading and desperate.

“I… am completely eliminating myself from this predicament, Sena. If you want to ask him out for yourself, you should do it. Besides, who wouldn’t like you? You’re amazing.” Your voice is sincere and genuine, and you hope she pushes all of her fears and insecurities to the side to do something about her feelings.

“It would just be so much easier if I knew if he thought I was cute or something.”

“Everyone thinks you’re cute.”

“That’s not the point, YN. Listen, how ‘bout this? You don’t even have to drop my name in there; just ask what his ideal girl is like or something… or let Guk do the work! I’m sure he already knows the answer. Just help a girl out, please, YN.” You sigh defeated because your sister was really good at convincing.

It wasn’t really hard to figure out what type of girl Namjoon was interested in or… if he was interested in girls. All of this was easier said than done and you were going to rely on Jungkook a lot on this.

“I’m not going to prioritize this.” You surrender and she is giddy in her seat.

“YN, you are the best sister anyone could ask for.”

Several weeks have passed since you had last had your conversation with your older sister. You made an emphasis that you weren’t going to prioritize delving into Namjoon’s personal life. You were purely on a calculus homework and best friend’s next door neighbor relationship with him. But you finally get an idea of what Namjoon likes in a girl when he had to leave early for calculus to get pep rally ready for the first football game that Friday.

Unknown [14:34]: It’s Namjoon. Got your number from Guk.

For some reason, you feel your heart leap out of your chest at the text message. You’re still seated in calculus class working on the first few problems of your homework without him. You look up to see that Mrs. Kang is too busy assisting other students confused with the problem. Honestly, you were confused too and were unsure with your methods, but your mind had been too focused on your cellphone the entire time.

Namjoon [14:35]: Should’ve gave you the heads up about this. Sorry about leaving you alone to work. ):

You [14:36]: It’s no big deal. Seems like everyone’s confused, tbh.

Namjoon [14:36]: Fuck, mb. It’s the first game of the night, so I’m kind of required to be here. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.

Namjoon [14:37]: I have some down time after setting up. Maybe we can work on it then?

You [14:37]: Just tell me the time and place, I’ll be there. (:

Namjoon says that he had somebody covering his duties for the student council before the game began. You see him rushing inside a computer lab that remained open for students to use. You had reserved a table at a secluded corner because you wanted to be away from prying eyes. He spots you trying to reread your notes and erase the umpteenth method you had tried for a word problem you were stuck on.

He admires the way your brows knit together; lips pursed as you began redoing your method on a separate piece of paper. He keeps standing, not taking his place on the chair right next to you – too afraid that you would interrupt your flow. You feel a presence right next to you and he nearly gives you a fright and you realize just how tall he is.

“You scared me.” You inform and he chuckles softly at how endearing it was. He takes the seat right next to you where he is already pulling out notebook and pencils from his bag.

“I left my book at my locker. Do you mind if I share your book with you?” You look at your open textbook and nod at once pushing the textbook closer for both of you to see. “Thanks.” He scoots much closer than you had intended and when he strips his hoodie off of him, you can smell his cologne and how good it smelled on him.

You ignore your thoughts and scurry back to the problem you’re on.

“What problem did you end on?” He inquires and you point to the exact word problem you had been staring at for the past thirty minutes in class.

“It’s been bugging me. I didn’t want to ask Mrs. Kang because I wanted to figure it out myself.” You were so stubborn, he thought to himself. You had only completed a total of eight problems when there was so much more to do for the weekend. For some reason, you decided to stay stuck on that problem for god knows how long and Namjoon found it adorable – one of the few attributes he liked about you.

He reads the word problem and begins trying to solve the problem on his own. After several tries, he had figure out what you had done wrong and he so desperately wanted to point it out to you. Just when he was about to open his mouth, you turn to him and shake your head, covering your ears with your hands.

“No. I refuse to let you tell me what you did wrong. I can figure this out myself.” You whisper harshly. Namjoon can’t help but respond with silenced laughter because this is exactly how your homework sessions have been going; just the both of you refusing to let the other correct each other until the other figured it out themselves.

“Can I give you one clue?”

“Nope.” You popped your ‘p’ to accentuate just how persistent you were. You stuck out your lower lip as you examined the word problem again and he looked at the glossiness of your mouth and the softness of your cheeks; how he desperately wanted to lay his own petals right on yours as his fingers crawl to your face.

“So, I have a question.” He starts.

“And I can try to give you an answer depending on what it is.”

“Are… you and Guk by any chance – y’know?” His question is vague, but you definitely know what he is asking you because lots of people were never really used to the idea of a boy and a girl ever being best friends; for some reason, people assume they always end up dating and never talking to each other again.

“God, no. I love him, but I don’t love him like… I’d date him.” Your cheeks were fully flamed, and you weren’t so sure why you were so embarrassed to discuss this with Namjoon. All the times you had to clarify people on your relationship with Jungkook, you were almost disgusted and quick to reassure people that you two were nothing more than friends.

“Well, is there anyone you were willing to date?” Namjoon is pushing the boundaries here and he knows it very well. But he feels like he has gotten to know you well enough in the past few weeks to ask such a question.

“Not that… I know of really.” You try to remain composed when you respond to his question, but you feel his eyes burn into your soul, so you’re doing everything you can to avoid his stare. But Namjoon continues to stare right into you. He really can’t take his eyes off of you. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever really experienced what it’s like to be attracted to –” Just when you had mustered the confidence to look at him, he is quite literally staring so deeply into your eyes that it is taking your breath away.

He is making you eat your words right now; you can’t take your eyes off of him.

“You don’t know what it’s like to…?”

“I don’t what it’s like to be attracted to someone.” You sigh softly; your breath fanning him. “On the contrary, I don’t think anyone’s ever really been attracted to me.” A chuckle comes erupting from your mouth, shaking your head. “Fortunately, that’s not really my goal in high school.”

“You don’t know that.” He quips.

“I don’t know what?”

“If someone’s been attracted to you before.” You shake your head in disbelief, chewing on the inside of your cheek knowing fully well that he was doing this because he wanted to seem like a dick for not disagreeing with your self-deprecation.

“Well, what about you?” You pose the question to him. “From what I understand, most girls and guys I pass by swoon every time you pass by.” He is chuckling to himself this time and he is very much aware of his desirability among his classmates. “You have plenty of choices; I’m sure you have the opportunity to date someone you must really like at this very moment.”

“That’s what I’m hoping on. I’m just not quite sure how she feels about me.” You feel like you were unraveling his darkest secrets and you were happy he considered you close enough to reveal who it is or give an inkling to who it is.

“Do I know her by any chance?” You’re hoping that you can narrow down who he is interested in. Because you barely knew anybody, you knew this would be a piece of cake.

“Yes.” He replies simply and he is staring at you. “You know her very well, YN.” He sighs, hoping you would finally understand what he is alluding to.

“Is she in my grade?” You were really hoping that the answer would be no or else you’d be breaking some terrible news to Sena that evening after the football game.

Namjoon nods slowly and he can see how you are not picking up his hints. He sees the slight disappointment in your face for whatever reason. Suddenly, he is perplexed because, in his eyes, he has made it pretty clear who he was interested in from the get-go. Many people should make the assumption, too, considering there was only one person he had his eyes on – only one person he was giving his attention to.

“Is it… that girl in Guk’s class who –”

As you are trying to list out the girls in your class who has interacted with Namjoon, he is in complete disbelief that you have not figured it out at all. How much more clueless could you get? He is sighing now because is frustrated. He admires your persistence when it came to solving difficult word problems in calculus but it’s frustrating when you are unaware of his feelings for you.

Just when is about to confess his feelings for you, you are greeted with another presence calling for both your names.

“So, this is where you two have been.” Jungkook ambles hastily towards your table and you grin from ear to ear when he is taking out his algebra textbook. “YN, one last chance, please. I didn’t pass my last quiz which brought me one letter grade down and my dad’s going to make me quit track & field if I don’t –”

“I told you I’d help you over the weekend, dumbass. I’m busy getting shit done with Namjoon.” You breathe softly before he is hugging you on your side and you grunt at how much stronger he has gotten. “But you’re buying me coffee for a week.”

“Sick.” Jungkook simply replies before he begins unpacking some of his homework. “You excited for the football game, Namjoon-hyung?” Jungkook queries and Namjoon is baffled because the moment is gone. One interruption from his next-door neighbor and the moment’s lost.

“Fuck yeah.” Namjoon replies and he sees that you’ve suddenly lost interest in the subject. You were subconsciously listening on their conversation while you are back to resolving the complicated word problem right in front of you. “Will you two be going to the game?”

“I’ll go, but YN won’t go because she hates crowds and, honestly, she doesn’t know how the game.” You exhale in response to Jungkook’s statements. Namjoon observes that you decide to move onto another problem, wanting to tackle the word problem at a different time. “Everyone you know will practically be there. Why not give it a shot?”

“We usually have half of the bleachers reserved for the student council since we’re in charge of tickets and concessions, so it won’t be that big of a crowd.” Namjoon attempts to entice you with modifications to appease your concerns. “Plus, we’d all get to hang out with each other; no homework, no calculus talk – just… us.”

Jungkook is stunned to see you agree.

The night was a lot more enjoyable than you thought it would be. Namjoon waived off the entrance fee for the game the moment he mentioned that you and Jungkook were volunteers. Taehyung was already on the field taking photographs of the football players and cheerleaders while Jimin took photographs of the students on the bleachers. You even passed by your own sister who was busy with her own group at the entrance entertaining friends, families, and alumni into the bleachers. Meanwhile, Namjoon was overseeing every single aspect of the event; he was mainly at the concessions, not wanting to create so much traffic around it.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You offer your assistance before he notices that you have your hair all tied up. “I’ve washed my hands if that helps.” Namjoon can’t hide his smile and he offer you a pair of food safe gloves.

“I’m usually one to decline help, but we really need it. Let’s see – Yuqi really needs to go use the bathroom, so you can be in charge of the drinks and chips right now.” You take your station at the drinks and chips stations. It was going faster than you had expected; people ordered too fast or too slow – there was no in between. There were people who were very certain with their order which you appreciated. Then, there were the people who were very fickle with their order and you can’t help but stand awkwardly to wait for them to decide.

“I can’t believe you roped me into helping.” Jungkook grumbles under his breath. “Hey, I didn’t rope you into anything.” You take the five-dollar bill from the student and offer them back their change.

“Yeah, but you made me seem like a real asshole sitting there not helping.” You can’t help but laugh at Jungkook’s pout because you knew just how much he wanted to just spend his time on the bleachers, watching the game with his hyungs. But he was stuck here helping out the student council while most of them were on their bathroom breaks.

“Once someone’s back from their bathroom break, you can go back to your game.” You soothe him and the chaos outside the booth is starting to die down. Less and less people were coming because they’ve all satisfied their craving and the game was building up – it was pretty close, so you understand why Jungkook was in there sulking with you. When you turn to look at Namjoon, hoping to convince him to let Jungkook off the hook, you don’t see him there.

You look out the window to hear your sister’s pretentious giggle. She laughed so differently around him – acted so differently around him. He stood right next to her with the rest of the council members, giving them a big pep talk. She looked at him like he was an angel who fell from heaven. Their conversation ends and the rest of the council members disband except Sena and Namjoon. They are having a personal conversation and you can’t read mouths, but you can’t tear your eyes away from their beaming faces.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” You clear your throat, speaking so softly so only Jungkook can hear you.

“I’m all ears.”

“Does – does Namjoon have a type?” You say out of curiosity. Jungkook raises a brow at you, curious as to what motivated you to ask the question.

“Uh, I don’t know. I’ve never really heard hyung talk about any girls… or his type, to be honest.” He hums and he is staring at you stare at your sister and Namjoon. “Why’d you ask?”

“It’s… for Sena.” It was the truth, but your own curiosity was definitely a motivating factor. “She’s been obsessed with Namjoon since… as long as I can remember.” You breathe out, hoping no one else can eavesdrop on your conversation. “She’s been talking a lot about him more since she found out I knew him, y’know?”

“Huh,” Jungkook leans on the table and folds his arms. “Why doesn’t she just tell him?”

“Apparently, she needs some sort of confirmation that he thinks of her that way too, so she doesn’t make a fool of herself.”

“Why don’t you just ask him then?” Your silence is clearly something Jungkook wasn’t expecting because you never actually considered it once. “He’s a pretty easy-going guy; just ask him and he’ll be honest.”

“We’re not on that level of friendship yet, I guess.”

“Well, I consider you guys close enough to ask that kind of question.”

“Then, he’d just assume I’m being friends with him because my sister was using me.”

“Well, are you?”

“No.”

Your own answer stuns you almost. Just a couple weeks ago, you knew nothing of Namjoon and, suddenly, you are on a level of friendship where you think you can confide him in anything. Perhaps, now, you really understood why everyone obsessed over him; why everyone wanted to be friends with him, why everyone wanted to date him, why everyone just wanted to be noticed by him.

“Then, feel free to ask him yourself.”

You hadn’t really worked up the courage to talk to Namjoon about his dating life. You repeated to yourself that it wasn’t really a priority to delve into what goes on behind the scenes with Namjoon. You were in a consistent state of going to school, doing your homework, reading books, and retraining your body to try out for the swim team next semester.

But the time came when you got sick for an entire week and missed so much material, especially calculus material.

But you were eternally saved by Namjoon himself.

Namjoon had requested to drop off the homework sheets and printed copies of his notes over to you. Everything was so detailed, and you were impressed with how organized everything seemed to be. You didn’t know what motivated you to reach for your phone on your bed and dial in his number. Maybe you felt like it deserved a personal thanks rather than a typed one.

“YN?” His voice on the other line sounded so surprised and there was so much noise on the other end. “Give me a second.” He excuses before you hear him move to another location, somewhere much quieter.

“How many times do I have to thank you for being an absolute saint?” Your voice sounded so stuffed. The flu was getting to you really bad, but you were recovering well. But he chuckles into the receiver and you are flipping through each page he had printed before you fall onto your bed, sighing blissfully. “I’m serious, Joon. I’ll say it a million times if I have to.”

“You’ve pulled my weight when I was off doing council work so much. I’m sure if I got sick, you’d do the exact same thing. It’s what partners do.” Namjoon is smiling from ear to ear; he was glowing, and no one was there to really witness it. “I – um, did you see my note attached at the back?”

You are now flipping through the pages frantically until you see a handwritten sticky note that read: “We have a quiz on the Monday you come back. I’m free this weekend if you wanted to study with me.” And there was even a little smiley face attached to it and you are experiencing a whirlwind of emotions.

“You have got to be fucking with me.” You can feel the panic starting to bubble in the pits of your belly, but you were trying not to let it show. “You’ve already done so much for me. I can’t rob you of your weekend. It’s just – It’s just too much.”

“I’m happy to do it, Ace. I promise.” The guy deserved everything in the world because he was too generous for the world and you weren’t so sure what you did to deserve such kindness.

“Ace?”

He chuckles embarrassingly into the receiver, chewing on his cheeks. “I – uh, it’s a nickname. I hope you don’t mind.” Suddenly, butterflies erupt from your stomach and there is a glow on your cheeks that you are very much aware of and you are curling into your bed with a shit eating grin on your face.

“I – I like it.” You sigh and Namjoon leans on the wall as he observes the rest of his friends and council members enjoy slices of pizza, taking a well-deserved break from preparing for the pep rally event coming up next week.

“So, is that a yes to a study session this Saturday?”

“Yes.” Your voice is small and hesitant because it feels like you’re doing something wrong when you were just having a quiz session with your calculus partner.

“Great. My place or yours?”

Namjoon insisted on coming over to your place because you were still recovering. Coincidentally, your parents had the weekend trip away with your dad’s work colleague for a wine tasting event. You debated whether you wanted to tell Sena that Namjoon was going to be arriving in an hour, but you soon realize that she was out with her friend’s house for a movie night session.

You had the place all to yourself and you were relieved and frantic all at once.

You busied yourself the entire day to make yourself look decent; brushed hair, brushed teeth, clean face, and fresh clothes. You throw used tissues into trash bins, changed your sheets, and kicked all of your dirty laundry into your hamper that had fallen on the carpeted floors. As you are jogging downstairs, you discover you have no food in the fridge, so you’d probably have to order a pizza or something to share with Namjoon.

Immediately, you question why you are so desperate to make the place and yourself so presentable when this was a mere tutoring session with your calculus partner?

The doorbell ringing prompts you to peek through the peep hole and you see him; he is wearing a regular white t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. He has his hoodie thrown over his shoulder as he begins texting a message on his phone, waiting for you to open the door for him.

When you unlock the front door and open the door for him, you smile timidly at him.

“Hi,” You greet him nervously.

“Hey, Ace.” He waves before he examines how you look. Despite your red nose and tired eyes, he missed seeing your face for a week; he really did. You stood awkwardly fiddling with your fingers and he can sense just how anxious you are, so he decides to tread lightly. “May I come in?”

His tone is so polite which effectively allows you to open the door wider for him to enter. You are nodding and you close the door shut behind him, ensuring that you have locked them. “I – um, I can’t really offer you anything to eat since my parents are out of town, but we can order pizza, if you want. It’s what my sister and I usually do.”

“I’m more than okay with pizza.” He permits and you nod and begin walking to the living room. “Will we be working here?”

“We can work anywhere.” You announce. The conversation is so light, and you hate how quick yet reluctant you are to your responses. “I – I can get you a glass of water, if you’d like. I’ll just get my things from upstairs and bring them down to the living room.” You inform him and he nods as he is making himself comfortable on the couch.

You are scurrying off upstairs to go get your materials and catching your breath because you think you were holding your breath the entire time. You’re stalling because you’re making a check list of every single thing you need for downstairs to avoid seeing him or talking with him. Just when you are about to exit, you see him at the bottom of the stairs. He is examining each family portrait on the wall.

Your face is hot because you can only imagine how terrible you looked like a child, so you jog downstairs with your study materials to gain his attention. “I never really realized how much Sena looks like your dad.” Namjoon comments and you stop in your tracks, only to examine the portrait he is looking at. “Exact same nose and smile.”

You purse your lips into a thin line because you are reminded once again that he is probably only interested in getting to know Sena – there was always that possibility. You were so familiar with this feeling of discussing your sister with other people because – yes, she is absolutely beautiful and intelligent and there was no denying it.

“But you are like your mother.” He comments as he takes a closer look at your mom who seems to be so much more youthful. “The way she’s smiling here looks so much like the way you smile.” He describes and you allow him to explain more by staying silent. “When you smile, your nose kind of crinkles and the corners of your eyes creases and your dimples are a lot more –”

Your throat seizes because you’re flattered and aware that he has perfectly examined your appearance and all the features in what he sees. He grows silent and he is chuckling nervously, scratching the back of his hand to distract himself.

“Sorry that was… super random.” Namjoon clears his throat, and you are shaking your head before you point towards the living room.

“I – I’m ready now.”

Now, you’re desperately hoping Sena doesn’t come home too early from her friend’s house.

Hours have passed since Namjoon have gotten you caught up with all of the materials and have assisted you through last week’s homework sheets. Namjoon was impressed with how you can keep up despite your recovering condition. One minute, you were sneezing and wiping your nose clean and, the next minute, you have your lips pursed and brows furrowed as you are writing equations down on a separate piece of paper.

“I got a question for you.” Namjoon begins and you are still too busy piecing everything together for a specific word problem you wanted to master.

“Shoot.”

“Are you always this focused?” You are typing things into a calculator before you are erasing things on your paper and you turn to look at him, showing him the calculator.

“Is this the right answer?” You ignore his question for a moment.

He nods and you grin at him before you proceed onto the next word problem.

“If I’m a week’s worth of lessons behind, yes, I’m focused all the time.” Namjoon is shaking his head and he is in awe at how you are so quick at writing all the information; he notices how neat your handwriting is too. Namjoon checks his watch and realizes just how late it has been and he clears his throat as he looks out the window to see the sun has gone completely down.

“Will your sister be coming home tonight?” Namjoon notices that you stop writing – you stop solving the word problem that you are tackling because you, suddenly, realize that he is asking about your sister.

“She’s probably still at a friend’s house or something.” He senses the atmosphere has changed and you shift your mind back to the practice problem right in front of you. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason – well, I honestly thought she should be taking care of her recovering sister.” You snicker at his statement.

“She’s a great sister, but she’s not that great.” You quip, biting your tongue at how ridiculous he sounded. “I think we can all agree that she’s smart, charismatic, and ambitious. I will admit she’s a really considerate sister too, but she thinks caring for her ill sister is a parents’ job – not hers.”

“Okay, okay, I get it she’s amazing but not… amazing.” He raises his hands to surrender and his words coming out of his mouth urged you to inquire about his relationship with her.

“If you think she’s amazing, why don’t you date her?” The words came spilling out of your mouth uncontrollably. Maybe it was the meds, you thought. You see the grin disappear from Namjoon’s face into utter confusion and he tilts his head for further clarification. “What I mean is that… you’ve known her and worked with her for so long and she’s a great girl – I’m obviously really biased considering she’s my sister, but you two would make a… great couple.”

You didn’t believe that you were talking about this to Namjoon. You didn’t think you would have the guts to discuss this with him, but the opportunity came up and you took it. But you are faced with such an unfamiliar emotion. True discomfort arises at the pit of your stomach as Namjoon’s brows furrow together and he is shaking his head with the same boyish grin he always flaunted to the world.

“Ace, she’s great, but I… honestly see her as a friend.” He isn’t so sure how many times he’s reiterated those words before. Because little did you know, so many people have asked the exact same thing. Peers and colleagues in their class were very much aware of Sena’s not so little crush on Namjoon for quite some time.

“Well, I mean, isn’t that how all relationships really start? Becoming friends and then possibly developing feelings for each other? Most people always see each other as friends until one of them is aware of the others’ feelings, right?” Your tone was so quizzical. You were treating this conversation like it required rationale and logical reasoning to tackle the issue at hand.

But this wasn’t a problem the mind can solve.

“That’s the usual circumstance, yes.” He admits and he sees that you resume back to the worksheet. “But I’ve known Sena’s had a thing for me and, quite frankly, I’ve been interested in someone else for a while, remember?”

“Someone far more interesting than Sena?” You are in disbelief. You are trying to eliminate other people in school who is on the same social standing as your older sister. “That’s… not possible.” You breathe.

“You’re wrong.” You stop writing because you are retracing your steps on the word problem you are solving. He finds it so endearing how you can’t seem to understand that he is utterly into you, but you are so lost in numbers.

“No, don’t tell me, Joon. I’ve told you this hundreds of times –” You lift your head to look at him to accentuate your reminder; you didn’t want to know what you wrong, you wanted to solve the problem yourself unless you demanded the assistance yourself.

Normally, Namjoon would comply with your request. It was so rare for him to point out your mistake, but he figured this was the perfect time to do so.

“You’re so stubborn.” He breathes before he dives in.

You don’t complete your sentence. Because when you turn your head to look at him with pleading eyes, you are met with his pillowy petals on yours. Your cheeks heat instantaneously, and you can feel your heart leap from your chest.

His kisses were soft and slow. You don’t realize that he has already cupped your cheeks. You’ve never kissed anyone ever before but, for some reason, it was like you knew how to move your mouth against his. He was gentle but there was a certain control he possessed. You pull away momentarily to breathe and, suddenly, you feel the heat of his tongue swipe on your lower lip. A shuddered whimper leaves your mouth before you are regrettably pulling away from addiction.

“N – no, that’s not possible.” You’re still in denial from the events that occurred. “Sena – she’d be so… betrayed if she –” Your brain is glitching and it didn’t help that you can taste the mint of his lips on yours.

“Listen, Ace, for one moment stop thinking about Sena and answer me honestly.” Namjoon positions his body to look straight onto you. “Do you feel the same way I do or not?”

“I don’t – I don’t know.” You shrug before avoiding his eyes. “I – I shouldn’t like you.” You sigh defeated and you are covering your face. You were ashamed not because you like him, but because you didn’t understand what you were really feeling, and you didn’t understand what you wanted to do. “Why – why do you like me?”

“You’re hardworking and incredibly intelligent.”

“I know plenty of other girls who are… exactly the same.”

“Your tastes in book are impeccable. You’re selfless to a degree that I can’t quite comprehend. You keep to yourself, but when you speak your mind, it leaves a lasting impression. Listen, YN, I can keep going, but you can’t… keep doubting my feelings for you.” Namjoon justifies and it was a tough pill to swallow.

You were too stunned to say anything. Too many emotions flooding your brain and it took too long for it to process, so you remained expressionless. Namjoon found it incredibly difficult for him to read your face.

“Ace, it’s really hard to tell how you’re feeling right now.” He points out and you understand just how awkward you sat there; head spinning with so many things to say but very little coming out of your mouth.

“I – I don’t know what you want me to say.” You admit. “I’m not sure what you’re expecting out of me with a confession like this. If I don’t feel the same way, what would’ve happened? If I do feel the same way, what – what was I supposed to do?”

“Well, for starters, do you actually feel the same way as I do?”

“I – I do.” You croak to respond to his inquiry. “I – I don’t think I’ve ever admitted that to myself either, but… I think I like you.”

A wave of relief washed over Namjoon, but there’s a bit of relief for you too. It’s out in the open now, and you know that there’s nothing really you can do about it. There’s a very content grin plastered right across his handsome face, but it slowly transforms into a frown as he realizes that, despite your feelings for each other, nothing will change between the both of you.

“Namjoon, we can’t be anything more than friends.” You realize the unfortunate circumstances the both of you were in. “It’s not fair to my sister. I don’t think it’s very fair to make me choose between you and my sister. I – I don’t think it’s very fair that… you’re in this position.”

Your heart swelled just moments ago, and you can feel it crumble into pieces as the words come spilling out of your lips.

“I understand.” He agrees softly and you perk up at his acquiescence. “I’m not going to force you to be in that position, Ace.” The reassurance softens your tense form, and his fingers cradle your chin, lifting up to be at eye level with you.

“But when you’re ready to reconsider... us, I’ll be waiting.”

↪ Please stay tuned for the next part!

#namjoon fic #namjoon imagine #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #namjoon x reader

200 notes · View notes

xiaomoxu · 3 years

Text

Lucien - Mystical Date

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

A date from CN server which hasn’t been released on EN server yet. Might contains some spoiler.

🌙 Also from this date: Moment - 1st Call - 2nd Call

This date is from The Heat and Sounds of the Grand Banquet Collection.

Story under the cut--

Legend has it that in a remote and dense jungle, there was a mysterious young man.

Wherever he goes,

Stone can flow out gold,

The flame can ignite out of thin air,

The spring water can drip colorful colors.

The story starts from that hot season...

It hasn't had a single drop of rain for two full months, and the air is full of unbearable heat.

Now is the time for the cavalry to change guards, and logically speaking, it is also the time when the tribal defense is the weakest.

I hid behind the wall and glanced from a distance. As expected, there was only one person on duty at the tribe’s outpost.

I crawled into the stable, jumped and patted the horse, then ran off on top of it.

The dry and hot wind whizzed past my ears, and there was only one firm belief in my heart--

I must escape successfully!

Just as I was approaching the guard post, the cavalry on duty probably heard the sound of horse hooves and reacted vigilantly.

Guard: Who are you?!

MC: ...This is bad.

Before I could think about it, I picked up the rein and pulled the horse hard to speed up the escape.

As long as I cross the river outside the post and into the woods, I will be able to completely leave the border of the tribe.

Guard: Someone is running away, come on!

I galloped through the river, and got into the woods as soon as I jumped.

I don't know how long I ran, but my ears were left with the rustle of wind blowing over the leaves and the faint sound of water.

It's safe for now.

I breathed a sigh of relief, but did not slow down the speed, and my heart still restless.

A few hours ago, I overheard the conversation between the wizard and the chief, and was shocked to learn that the wizard wanted to sacrifice me in three days!

-Flashback-

Wizard: Chief, if you want to save the entire tribe, you must sacrifice her!

Chief: This...no, I can't agree with this matter!

Wizard: You have figured it out clearly, this is a problem for the entire tribe.

Wizard: She was originally an ominous orphan, and as she grew up, her thought became more and more curious.

Wizard: She was just looking through some useless books. When I was ordered by the gods to carry out my will, she dared to question it.

Wizard: Now, the god has been angered by her behavior, and the two-month drought is the punishment.

Wizard: Sacrificing her to pray for rain, that was the only way to calm the anger of the gods!

Chief: In any case, she is a member of the tribe, my people...I don't agree to sacrifice her!

Originally, I was only quietly borrowing the street lamp outside the chief's palace to read the collection of theological poems, but I was shocked to hear it.

It is obvious that staying in the tribe is no longer safe. In a hurry, I only thought of a way to protect myself-escape!

-Flashback end-

In order to escape as far as possible, I drove all night in the woods.

The sky was already bright, and I looked at the forks in front of me and couldn't make up my mind. I planned to dismount and check it out first.

I turned into a path and didn't know how long I walked. The dense woods in front of me seemed almost the same as before, and I still couldn't tell the direction.

Thinking that I was lost, I was so nervous that I walked a few steps faster, but I missed my steps and I rolled down a steep slope.

MC: !

The feeling of turning around the world gradually faded. I struggled to get up, and was surprised to find that there was a valley in front of me, and there seemed to be a large lush garden not far away.

Ignoring the pain on my body, I walked in carefully, hoping that there would be a place for me to rest for a while.

But the more I walked in, I found that so many colorful flowers and trees, there are still many buildings and a clear breath of life in the garden.

I was wondering if there were people living here, a calm and cozy figure suddenly broke into my sight behind the flowers.

It was a strange young man.

He was wearing a luxurious light-colored satin gown, and his exposed arm rings had complicated and beautiful patterns.

At this moment, he picked up a chess piece and rubbed it lightly.

Hearing my footsteps, the man raised his head. At first glance, I hesitated for a moment.

??: Who are you and how did you come here?

MC: I was lost in the woods and passing by accidentally.

??: Oh?

The man curled his mouth slightly, and an imperceptible meaning passed through the end of his narrow eyes.

??: Not many people can find this place.

The man didn't seem to believe it, so I explained.

MC: After I rolled down the steep slope over there, I walked straight ahead... and I got here.

The man looked at me up and down, and whispered as if talking to himself.

??: It turned out to be like this...

Although there was a slight smile on the corner of the man's mouth, his tone was always indifferent.

I thought for a while, but I swallowed the idea that I wanted to rest here for a while, and saluted him.

MC: Sorry to disturb you, I will leave now.

??: You're hurt

The man spoke slowly and pointed at my arm.

??: If necessary, I can provide simple medical care.

I lowered my head, and saw many scars on my arm by branches and gravel, and the dull pain came up with it.

The man quickly fetched the medicine kit. After all, in a completely unfamiliar environment, I was a little uncomfortable, holding the potion and use it to heal my wounds.

After treating the wound, I saw the chessboard on the ground on my side, and my eyes lit up suddenly.

The familiar glass pawns and small twelve grids are exactly what I am best at playing chess.

The man is holding the glass chess piece in one hand, seeming to observe the chess surface.

MC: Are you playing chess?

??: Not long after I started learning, I was still studying according to the chess book.

I nodded thoughtfully and couldn't help but speak proudly.

MC: I like playing chess very much, and I used to learn from the wisest old man in the tribe for a long time.

MC: In our tribe, almost no one can beat me.

Hearing what I said, the man paused with his finger holding the chess piece.

He leaned over and raised his eyebrows slightly unexpectedly.

After pondering for a moment, he put the chessboard in front of me with a casual smile on his face.

??: So now this game...

??: In your opinion, what is the correct next step?

Following the man's gestures, I subconsciously observed it carefully and began to analyze the situation in front of me.

MC: Is the next step to take the pawn at my hand?

??: Hmm.

I quickly counted the pawns in the current chess hole, and my eyes brightened quickly.

I took out the first chess piece on the left hand side and "planted" one by one into the row of holes on the right.

MC: One, two, three, four, five, just right!

The man looked at the chess hole I was pointing, and turned slightly.

MC: Although this chess hole is very suitable for abandonment, the number of chess pieces at the moment is very good.

MC: The place where the last chess piece falls will happen to be the big hole on the right, then according to the rulesㅡ

??: According to the rules, the pawns in the hole of the other side should also belong to this side.

The man took my word almost at the same time.

MC: That's right!

??: This game really became more interesting.

The corners of the man's lips curled up slightly, an arc flashing in his eyes.

Lucien: If you are not in a hurry, are you willing to play a game with me?

I subconsciously wanted to agree, but when I thought about my current situation, I hesitated again.

MC: I....

I opened my mouth and didn't know how to explain it for a while. The man saw my hesitation, did not persuade me too much, just smiled faintly.

Lucien: I think it should be far better than reading a chess book by myself.

His tone was sincere, and my wagging mood tilted towards a certain choice.

I accidentally fell to the sides of the empty garden. An idea suddenly popped up in my head. I took a deep breath and saidㅡ

MC: I promised to play against you, but...

MC: I want to add some "weight" to this competition.

The man leaned forward slightly.

??: Tell me the detail?

MC: If you win, you can make a request to me, as long as I can do it. But if I win..

After a second pause, I said in a hurry.

MC: Can you let me stay for a few days?

Thinking that the wizard might still be arresting me, it is better to find a "backer" to hide first, instead of running around alone.

This hidden garden and this mysterious man may be a viable choice.

The sudden request really made him wide open his eyes in surprise.

I pursed my lips and said after a few seconds.

MC: Our tribe is suffering from a drought, and I really have nowhere to go, so I ran out to save my life.

Although the most real reason is hidden, what I said is not entirely a lie.

MC: So, do you agree to add this "weight"?

I watched him nervously.

The man looked at me deeply, and after a moment of indulgence, he chuckled softly.

??: It is indeed a heavy weight.

??: Okay, I promise.

??: However, let me test your chess skills first.

The man put the chess pieces back, I took a deep breath and smiled politely.

MC: Since it is a competition, how can one not know the name of the opponent.

MC: My name is MC, how about you?

The midday sun fell on him, and the man smiled slightly and looked at me sideways.

??: Lucien.

In a blink of an eye, I have been staying at Lucien's house for several days.

I borrowed a few chess books from Lucien. I haven't been anywhere these days. I stayed in the guest room and looked through.

In the match a few days ago, I only narrowly won by the difference two points.

Lucien learned so well not long after his self-study. His chess books must be very useful.

MC: Lucien, I have read these books, is there anything else?

Lucien: Yes, in the library.

MC: Library? Can I come with you to have a look?

Just when I thought I was going to be rejected, Lucien nodded lightly, a vague stream of light flashed across his eyes.

Unexpectedly, there are several library rooms in this garden palace, but the books in itㅡ

MC: "Elemental Crystal", "The Secret of Metal", "How to Make a Panacea".

MC: What are these all about, why have I never heard of it?

I looked at Lucien, who was standing quietly by the side, with some suspicions in my heart.

MC: Lucien, What the hell do you do?

MC: Wizard? Magician? Or...

Lucien looked at me without evasiveness, and spoke slowly after a while.

Lucien: To be precise, I am a hermit who knows a little about alchemy.

I was about to ask more clearly, but he suddenly raised his arm, his expression still faint.

Lucien: If you are interested, you can read these books at your will.

Lucien left after leaving saying that. I thought he was in trouble, I didn't care too much, and curiously took out two books.

After flipping through a few pages quickly, I found that the content in it was in a category that I had never heard of.

MC: After adding these powders, the flame can change various colors?

MC: It can be done with salt...?!

Holding these books that I have never heard before, the door to a new world seems to be slowly opening before my eyes.

I was fascinated by it, and I didn't feel the passage of time at all, until there was a slight sound of footsteps by the door.

Lucien: You... still here?

I looked up in a daze, only to realize that it was pitch black outside the window.

Thinking he was asking me why I stayed in the library, I smiled at him awkwardly.

MC: It seems that I have been staying for a long time...

Lucien approached calmly, his eyes swept over the pile of books beside me.

Lucien: It seems that you have already read a lot.

Lucien: Are there any gains?

MC: There are many gains, but there are more doubts.

I raised the horoscope book in my hand.

MC: I once saw a book that said that the destiny of human beings and the prosperity and decline of the country's luck are all determined by astrology.

MC: The wizard of our tribe always said that he can predict misfortune and happiness through the position of the stars.

MC: But I always feel that if fate is destined, does that individual's efforts have any meaning?

MC: Everyone’s destiny should only belong to them.

MC: As for the other messy claims, they may be just excuses made by people.

After saying all these things, I realized that Lucien had walked to me at some point.

He glanced at me deeply, and a strange emotion flowed through his deep eyes.

Lucien: I think most people cannot accept this statement.

Just when I thought Lucien was going to refute me, his voice was warmer and softer than before.

Lucien: However, I agree.

MC: ....Realy?

All the time, wizards have always said that my ideas are "outlandish and outrageous."

Unexpectedly, I would meet someone who has such a similar thought to me, so I blurted out subconsciously.

MC: If it weren't for my thinking is not the same as most people, it wouldn't beー

Finding my carelessness, I hurriedly bit my tongue. But Lucien had obviously heard it, and he asked with interest.

Lucien: different ideas mean?

I hesitated for a moment.

MC: Actually, is nothing.

MC: I just feel that some things may have nothing to do with the gods at all, but they should be.

The soft light shone on Lucien's side face, watching him listen intently. I don't know why, I suddenly have a desire to talk.

MC: It's just... If it doesn't rain for a month, maybe it's just the natural phenomenon described in that book, not the anger of the gods.

Lucien: Anger of Gods?

MC: ...I once heard that a tribe did not rain for several months. The wizard said that it was because a young girl angered the gods.

MC: He even proposed the vicious idea of sacrificing the young girls to pray for rain...maybe it's selfishness at all!

I finished speaking in a low voice.

Lucien was stunned for two seconds, looking thoughtful.

But soon, he smiled slightly, with a little light and shadow in his eyes.

Lucien: In this world, there may really be gods.

Lucien: But in my opinion, it is better to put hope in your own hands than to believe in the ethereal gods.

Lucien: It's just that I'm surprised that you can think so too.

Lucien looked at me, his lips curled in a nice arc.

Lucien: Before I brought you to the library, I was worried that you would think these books offended the gods.

Lucien: Now it seems that my worries are nothings.

Through Lucien's dark pupils, I can clearly see my figure. There seemed to be ripples in his eyes, and a warm smile appeared.

My cheeks were slightly hot, and I subconsciously looked away from his eyes.

My eyes fell on the closed "Elemental Crystal", and I suddenly remembered something.

MC: Lucien, just said in the book that there are many beautiful crystals.

I tilted my head and asked curiously.

MC: What is crystal, and what does it look like?

Lucien thought for a moment, then stretched out his hand to me.

If you want to know, you might as well take a look at the real "little trick".

Lucien took me to the deepest part of the garden palace. This wide room was filled with various utensils that I didn't understand well, and I looked around curiously.

Lucien held out an iron box in the corner, and saw a row of small cardboard trees staggered in it.

Lucien: Coincidentally, I just finished some preparations.

Lucien: Now, the most critical step will need your help.

MC: What is this?

Lucien: To reveal the answer too quickly, you will lose a lot of fun, you might as well look forward to it.

Lucien deliberately said it, revealing a mysterious expression.

He adjusted it in the glass for a while, and soon a cup of slightly turbid water appeared in front of me.

Lucien: Are you interested in trying it yourself?

Although I still don't quite understand what this is, it doesn't affect my eagerness to try.

MC: Ok, what should I do?

MC: Pour this cup of "water" on the paper tree.

Lucien: When you wake up tomorrow, you will have a pleasant surprise.

The next day, as soon as the sun was up, I got up and couldn’t wait to push the door open.

On the bare paper tree last night, every branch is now full of crystal-clear "flowers", which are becoming more white and clear under the shining of the sun.

I sing happily to the garden holding the iron box, Lucien was reading at the stone table in the open air.

Put the blooming paper tree among the flowers, I tugged his sleeve gently.

MC: Lucien, let the paper tree blossom, is this the surprise you said?

MC: But how exactly is this done?

He smiled slightly.

Lucien: The answer lies in the glass of "water" you poured down yesterday.

Lucien: Because the matter in the "water" reacted with the substances on the paper tree, these flower-like crystals were precipitated.

Lucien: It's just such a simple "trick".

He explained concisely. I don't know if it's because this is what he likes. Lucien's expression in front of me is a bit vivid.

The bright sunshine fell on his hair, which looked exceptionally soft, and a circle of dark shadows fell in his eyes.

Looking at Lucien, whose smile in the sun was even better than the flowers in the garden, my breath suddenly suffocated inexplicably.

There seemed to be a feather that suddenly flicked from the tip of my heart.

Lucien noticed my pause.

Lucien: What's wrong?

I hurriedly looked away, but the sensation in my heart did not calm down for a long time.

MC: ....Nothing, I just think you know a lot.

MC: You can learn to play chess by reading a book by yourself, knowing a lot of knowledge that other people don't know, and this kind of magic trick.

Hearing my analogy, the arc of his smile became even wider.

Lucien: In your eyes, I must be really great.

In the fragrant garden, Lucien smiled gently, and his narrow eyes were filled with diamonds from the sunlight.

MC: Lucien, I really like the "gate to the new world" you opened for me. It feels novel and mysterious.

MC: Why don't you teach me too?

MC: Like you said, the masters are more intentional when they moving forward.

MC: Maybe I can catch up with you soon, and then we can learn and explore more things together.

Unconsciously, more than half a month passed so happily and comfortably.

In these days, I have hardly seen other people, and the cavalry of the tribe has never appeared. I gradually feel relieved.

Early this morning, I came to the river to fetch water briskly.

Suddenly, a chaotic sound of horseshoes came from behind unexpectedly!

I was caught off guard and quickly kicked to the ground by a horse's hoof: it was the cavalry sent by the wizard.

I was trying to run out of the enclosure when I was struggling, and suddenly there was a sharp pain in the back of my head.

It went dark, and I fainted.

What I didn't know was that when the cavalry took me away, behind the dense woods, a long robe was blown away by the wind.

When I woke up, I found that I had been taken to a crowded street.

I looked around but did not see the guards, only the dark and gloomy voice of the wizard.

Wizard: It is because of her, this young girl who angered the gods, that caused the drought in the last two months!

Wizard: I will hold a rain prayer ceremony soon and sacrifice her to the gods.

There was a noise in the crowd, and I stared at the wizard unwillingly and resentfully.

Just when I was about to refute him loudly, an old but powerful "stop" sounded first: It was the chief who came.

My eyes slid past the chief, and widened in disbelief - it was Lucien who came with the chief!

MC: ....!

How could it be Lucien?

After the huge shock passed, the faint expectation could not be restrained rising from my chest, and I stared at Lucien intently.

Aware of my surprise and expectation, Lucien slowly blinked his eyes twice.

Chief: You are so courageous that you plan to perform a sacrifice in private!

The wizard was about to argue, the chief had already spoken to the people involuntarily.

Chief: The hermit next to me has a lot of fate with our tribe.

Chief: I was fortunate enough to get acquainted with him many years ago. He gave us the "God Water" that made the crops grow more prosperous.

Chief: In addition, he has the ability to turn stones into gold, and he is an expert who rarely shows up.

Chief: Now, he rushed over overnight after hearing the drought, and he will definitely find a solution.

Looking at the unhurried figure in front of me, my heart was pounding violently.

Lucien: To pray for rain, there is no need for a girl's sacrifice.

Lucien: I have other ways.

Lucien's words caused an uproar in the surroundings.

The wizard asked sharply.

Wizard: What if your method doesn't work? Wouldn't it be useless?

Lucien took a step forward, staring straight at the wizard with a cold look in his eyes.

Lucien: Did Mr. Wizard has the guts to gamble with me?

Lucien: See whether my method is feasible or your hypothesis is valid.

Lucien: Before that, I ask you to wait for a while.

Lucien's voice was not loud, but with firmness that could not be rejected and rebutted.

The wizard was obviously stunned, his eyes widened in a daze and no longer spoke.

Chief: When do you plan to start the ceremony?

Lucien: I need one night to prepare. In addition, I need a helper.

In the next second, Lucien raised his arm and pointed at me lightly.

Lucien: She is the most suitable.

On the dry and sultry night, Lucien sat on the ground under an empty starry sky.

He was holding a few precision instruments in his hand, as well as something that looked like a slender stick.

With the help of these instruments, he carefully observed the astrology and recorded what he was calculating.

I also sat down on the ground next to him, quietly not disturbing him.

It didn't take long for Lucien to stack up the calculation paper in his hand with confidence, smiled and opened his mouth first.

Lucien: Suddenly so quiet, what are you thinking about?

MC: Thinking about what you just wrote.

I pointed to the calculation paper in his hand.

MC: It feels like you have been observing the stars. Could it be that there is a connection between astrology and rain?

Lucien looked up at the dark sky and smiled approvingly.

Lucien: You guessed it right.

Lucien: Remember the astrology we talked about before?

Lucien: The astronomical phenomenon has its own laws. Perhaps it cannot determine the fate of people, but at least it can survey the sunny and cloudy weather.

Lucien: As long as you follow and make good use of these natural laws, it is not a different kind of "pray for rain."

MC: So, have you surveyed the rainy day?

Lucien: If the calculation is not wrong, it will rain tomorrow.

MC: Really?

MC: Do you need my help, such as letting you calculate more carefully?

Seeing me with a slight excitement, Lucien gave a low smile, his eyes seemed to be brighter than the moonlight under the vast starry sky.

Lucien: Stop thinking about it.

Lucien: The reason why I need you to be a helper is just a stopgap measure.

Lucien: The matter of surveying astrology, just leave it to me with confidence.

He stared at me steadily, and the trace of worry and anxiety that I had left was finally completely healed under such a gentle gaze.

Suddenly thinking of something, I stared awkwardly at my toes.

MC: Speaking of which, I actually owe you an apology.

MC: In fact, I would stray into your home, not to come out to ask for a living, but to avoid being arrested by the wizard.

MC: I didn't tell you the truth back then, sorry.

The air was silent for a few seconds, and a faint chuckle fell into my ears.

I raised my head to meet Lucien's deep eyes. From the corner of his mouth that was smiling, I realized something in hindsight.

MC: ...You know it long ago, don't you?

Lucien: It's not very early either.

Lucien exchanged his cross-legged posture, and faded away.

Lucien: In fact, at the beginning, I just guessed that things were not as simple as you said.

Lucien: But after seeing the cavalry yesterday, I realized that it turned out to be a little more complicated than I thought.

Lucien: So, I followed here.

MC: That’s... you came to help me specifically?

Lucien smiled and said nothing.

There was a sudden flow of heat in my chest. I quietly kept my eyes closed, not wanting him to see my hot cheeks.

The next evening.

In order to reassure the chief and all the villagers, Lucien sat with his eyes closed in the middle of the crowd, still doing a "ritual" appearance.

As expected by Lucien, it didn't take long for the dark sky to suddenly roll up a lot of dark clouds.

Dense dark clouds enveloped the entire sky, and with the black gloom, the big raindrops suddenly fell.

The long-lost rain has moistened every corner of the dry land.

Crowd: It's raining! It's really raining!

Crowd: Thanks to the gods, this year's crops are finally saved!

A burst of excitement and ecstasy erupted from the crowd, and heartfelt joy also poured into my heart: Lucien completed the promise he made before, and I was finally safe.

The chief entertained Lucien with the highest standard dinner party of the tribe.

Not only that, the chief told me that the wizard had left the tribe in a desperate manner, and he promised that nothing similar would happen in the future.

After the dinner was over, the night was getting thicker, and the rain was still ticking.

Lucien walked beside me, his pace was not hurried, which made me feel more at ease.

I took a deep breath and looked at him with bright eyes.

MC: Lucien, I want to solemnly thank you.

MC: Thank you for taking me in at the time, and now you have saved my life from the wizard.

In the crowd, Lucien stared at me carefully, his narrow eyes filled with a gentle smile like a moon.

In the damp air, the faint sandalwood on his body lingered in my nose.

Suddenly, he leaned closer to me.

Lucien: If you really want to express gratitude, then come back with me.

MC: ...!

In this distance, his smile came into my eyes very clearly.

The feathers that once brushed my heart seemed to be blown back, making my heart pounding involuntarily.

An inexplicable emotion slowly filled my heart, and I couldn't help but raise my face to confirm to him.

MC: Why?

Lucien tilted his head, as if teasing me deliberately, with a hint of teasing in his soft tone.

Lucien: I thought we were already friends.

Lucien: Is there any problem in inviting a friend to be a guest at home?

MC: ....To show you gratitude, I went to your house as a guest? What a strange idea.

I couldn't help but muttered.

Notice Lucien's intent gaze and gentle smile, I suddenly thought of something and blinked slyly.

MC: Lucien, in fact, you can't let me go, right?

Lucien: Maybe it is.

Unexpectedly, he didn't evade at all, and nodded to me calmly.

Lucien: I used to think that living alone without being disturbed is the most comfortable way of life.

Lucien: Until I met you.

Lucien: It turns out that the world you explore with me is the most interesting.

Lucien: So now...

In the silent night, he leaned slightly, his eyes lingering on my face intently.

Lucien: Would you like to go back with me?

In the damp night breeze, I nodded gently.

---

Notes from me: I VERY VERY LOVE THIS DATE! THANK YOU PG FOR WRITING THIS BEAUTIFULLY >< IT’S A ‘HAPPY ENDING’ FOR US!!

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc date #mlqc spoilers #mlqc translation #mlqc lucien #mlqc xu mo

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soranis-sunshadow · 4 years

Text

Hordak can’t catch a break even on his birthday...

Oh fandom, you really like this sort of drama don’t you?

A few days ago, on Hordak’s birthday, there was this ‘interesting’ post in the tag – since, apparently it’s impossible to get any peace even on that day.

I was too tired to answer it at the time after being on call the day before so, here’s my delayed answer to all of that:

First off: this post has this bit in it when asked what that person dislikes about SPOP.

He doesn’t need to get a redemption and he doesn’t get one in the show.

None of his actions constitute a redemption arc. The man merely acknowledged his personhood and freed himself from his master and God. That’s what his arc was about: the right to have a personal identity.

He gave himself a name and wanted to be his own person. That’s it. That’s all he wanted.

The man was merely freed from Prime’s influence- an influence he was born into since he’s been specifically manufactured to serve as a disposable mass produced soldier and worshipper of Prime.

If the argument that Catra was “forced” to commit crimes and thus she is not completely guilty of them since she was under duress – then the argument doubly holds for a person who has been directly programmed and conditioned to do so under the threat of death or mental rape (purification).\

Even while away from Prime, he was still conditioned to obey and brainwashed by Prime’s cult. He literally knew nothing else – he was not meant to. It’s how indoctrination works.

Prime’s clones aren’t people to Prime, they are tools. Those clones, while cut off from Prime still want to serve and please him: That’s what Wrong Hordak’s purpose in the show is- to show us just that.

Hordak is not considered “OK” because Entrapta likes him. Hordak is merely shown – by Entrapta that he could live apart from his cult and have worth outside what Prime tells him he has.

Just like real life cult victims, he needs an outsider to help him see a way out of the cult. The nature of indoctrination and brainwashing makes it impossible for the brainwashed person to know they are brainwashed unless someone points it out.

Now for my favorite thing:

and

oh and

Oh boy… this makes me just so damn uncomfortable.

To offer a bit of context as to why. I have never been on social media before SPOP or in any fandom and as such, I have never encountered the ‘all men are evil’ discourse that seems to infest these places. It’s been quite a bit of culture shock for me.

What is it that makes anyone think it is ok to judge a person because of an accident of birth? (being born male)

Why does hate for 50% of the human population get such a free pass on these platforms? Misandry is just as terrible as misogyny. You are being biased against another human because of their gender. I don’t care that males are perceived as ‘privileged’ – that doesn’t make it ok to be terrible to them unprovoked.

How does hating all men help achieve equity?

Do you realize that this sort of discourse is exactly how you radicalize people against the very cause you are championing? You breed hate and adversity for the rest of us who actually want to to have a discussion on the topic.

I’m a feminist myself (in a country where feminism is hard-work) and let me tell you, making all men hate us does nothing but push away potential allies and make it a lot harder for our voices to be heard.

Feminism is about equality, not women dominating.

Now onto the second post: the one comparing Catra and Hordak with the question of which of them is a better person.

This whole war orphans that were personally abducted and tortured into serving the horde HC that some ppl have is really starting to get boorish. This has been going on for more than 6 months.

I have no idea why everyone thinks he went down chimneys and stealing babies left and right while cackling villainously. The man had a busy schedule of brooding in his lab, wallowing at his inability to use insulated cables and having his device blowing up in his face with the occasional Skype call to Shadow Weaver to see what the Horde is doing.

And yet, to a part of the fandom, this is what he looked like:

( @bat-burrito made this one and it’s glorious)

And if you don’t believe me about the lab recluse thing, you don’t have to, the show pretty much states it for me.

and

Hordak is a recluse that stayed in his lab and let the running of the Horde and most operations to Shadow Weaver and later Catra. He did not personally abuse anyone and he is not the origin of the cycle of abuse.

Shadow Weaver was a child grooming manipulative woman before she even joined the Horde – she did this to Micah while she was not “evil” or presumably abused by Hordak.

Even if you want to HC that Hordak abused her somehow, he is still not the one who started the cycle: Horde Prime is.

The whole fandom seems to forget about the eldritch monstrosity that created a whole army of brainwashed slaves to worship and die for him. Prime is the one that sent Hordak to die and gave him the motivation to try to prove himself worthy of life and love. If you want to point fingers, point them at the origin of all of this. This fandom has a strange Prime blindness. He is never talked about when it comes to being the start of all of this.

If Prime didn’t exist, Hordak wouldn’t exist. If Prime hadn’t sent Hordak off to die, then his clone wouldn’t have accidentally ended up on Etheria. None of the things in the show would have happened.

Adora would have died of exposure in a field, the monarchies on Etheria would have continued as they are and the planet would have continued to exist in despondos.

He is a dictator, yes. So are the princesses. Monarchies are dictatorships where the ruler is born into power. Hordak gained his through military might while Glimmer was born with hers and enforced it with tradition. I don’t really care to play “who’s the better dictator”. The princesses have their power because of the runestones- magical rocks put there by the First Ones to channel the planet’s magic and use it as a weapon. How come no one talks about that?

Do you think a king/queen keeps their crown without effort or subjugation of their subjects?

Also, Hordak had never interacted with Catra before SW dragged her before him to be judged. He was indifferent to etherians in general and didn’t seem to care which of them were his underlings so long as the operations were running smoothly. He was more focused on his portal and returning home than on anything else. He did not set out to “ruin lives” or quest for power. What he wanted was to return to his deity and become a mindless part of the whole again – that is as opposite to power hungry as you can get.

Catra was directly abused by Shadow Weaver throughout her childhood. That makes Shadow weaver responsible for 100% of that abuse.

Catra was found in a box by Adora and adopted by Shadow Weaver. Hordak didn’t know or care that she existed.

He is responsible for the war, he is responsible for the war casualties and the property damage. He is not responsible for Shadow Weaver being a terrible person and mother figure.

Again with the orphan thing. We have 5 cadets in the show.

Adora was found in a field.

Catra was found in a box. Lonnie, Kyle and Rogelio are unexplained. The only lizard ppl we see in the show are in the Horde or the Crimson Wastes. The other two could just as well be the children of some of the soldiers.

I may harp on about what a bitch Shadow Weaver is – the reason I do so is because she is legitimately terrible to the two girls in her care.

I was the unfavorite growing up, I WAS the Catra in my family who could do no right while my sibling was the golden child. I don’t however hate Shadow Weaver. She is a cartoon character in a show and she does the things she was written to do. Hell, she is a very compelling and believable villain. Her motivations are clear and she is consistent. Her voice actress portrayed her splendidly and her character design is superb. I like her but that doesn’t mean that I don’t acknowledge her role in the story. I don’t however make up parts of the story to make her more evil than she was or treat my headcanons about her as absolute fact.

Again, sigh: Prime is the worst villain in the show. He is quite literally Nyarlathotep and does this to planets:

This to people:

and this to the people he created to serve, worship and love him:

How is that not worse?

I love Catra and it genuinely annoys me when people erase her agency or try to paint her as one-dimensional victim. Catra was an antagonist for most of the show and she rocked it! She was 400% more efficient at it than cloneboy. Give the queen some damn respect and recognition! Catra had a lot of agency and her actions moved the plot of the show more than those of the protagonists. (they were mostly reactive).

Catra pulled the lever of the portal in a moment of distress after a breakdown, a Shadow-Weaver related breakdown because that’s how trauma works.

Hordak didn’t make her do it, he didn’t send Catra after Adora either. These were Catra’s choices. They came from a place of hurt but they were her choices still.

The portal was a means of transportation, not a weapon. Building it was not Catra’s mission, it was Hordak’s. He built it so he could contact Prime and either summon him here or go home –whichever course of action Prime wanted. Again, Hordak wanted to go back to this:

...

The only person who knew the device was dangerous was Entrapta and she tried to warn Hordak about it. Catra was the one who stopped her, violently so, then sent her to die on Beast Island- the fate Entrapta saved her from a season ago. Catra then tried to have Hordak open the portal before it was ready.

When he wouldn’t – she pulled the lever herself because that is how desperate she had gotten at that point, to show Shadow Weaver how wrong she was. That is how hurt Catra was by her mother figure’s betrayal and abuse.

Don’t take that away from her. Don’t call it curiosity or naivete or whatever. She knew the portal was dangerous but she wanted to prove Shadow Weaver wrong so badly that she didn’t care at that point. She had been pushed that far.

Catra’s actions led to Angella’s death but she was not directly responsible for it. She didn’t activate the device to kill Angella, it merely happened accidentally. Catra was however glad it happened and wanted to profit from the aftermath of her death.

Hordak didn’t care or plan to kill Angella personally. There is no in-show moment where any of that is portrayed. Since he doesn’t care about the specifics of running the horde seem to know what they are conquering at the moment, it seems that that was usually a task reserved for his second in command.

^ - troop movement ordered by Catra

Hordak doesn’t even know what his own army is doing.

Again with the Hordak “drilling into orphan’s minds”… I seriously doubt that any of them had ever seen him out of his lab or that he came up with the propaganda himself.

Manipulation is more Shadow Weaver’s game not his. For all of Hordak’s faults, he is not deceptive or manipulative. If anything, he is woefully incapable of spotting lies. (it might have something to do with him being born in a society where lies were almost impossible because of the hive mind and Prime being able to browse his thoughts at a whim- as such, it wouldn’t be a skill he would have been able to develop).

Hordak canonically despises deception and lies. I really don’t understand where this image of a manipulative and cunning Hordak comes from. He wouldn’t be able to plot himself out of a paper bag if his life depended on it.

First off.. S4 Catra was his equal, not his subordinate. Don’t take that away from her. She earned it.

He doesn’t look that threatening here...

And again: Prime created the system. He made clone slaves and programmed them to serve. His clones have hardware installed for the express reason to facilitate his control over them. He has a religion in place to make sure their thoughts do not stray from his purpose. I am legitimately boggled by this fandom’s tendency to completely forget about his existence.Does anyone really think that these people that are born “prechipped” and programmed to know nothing but Prime’s Light are really knowledgeable about human morality?

That they would know that conquest is bad when that is the express reason for their creation?

If I were born in that situation, I’m not sure I would have known any better. Hell, if any of the clones even try to disobey Prime, they would get either mindraped (erased) or killed for the effort. They really have no choice, even if they knew that killing in Prime’s name is wrong (they don’t) they really can’t do anything about it. They have no choice but to be what they were made to be. I find it personally abhorrent when these designer slaves are held accountable for what Prime has made them do.

And to the people that say Hordak was free of Horde Prime once he was stranded on Etheria.. That is not how indoctrination works. The fact that I can’t go to church this Sunday because I’m locked in the house and can’t find the keys doesn’t make me an atheist.

Hordak was serving Prime even on Etheria. He keeps mentioning it to both Entrapta and Catra. He started the war because that’s what he thought Prime wanted of him and that’s what he’s been programmed to do. Personal and informed choice really doesn’t factor into his decision at all.

He is not sympathetic because Entrapta likes him. Notice how I haven’t brought up his relationship with her up to this point?

He is sympathetic because he literally had no choice but to do the things he was indoctrinated into doing. He was build and programmed for it, just like all the other clones. They are not able to deviate from that because of the way Prime functions and rules over them.

There is no point in the show where Hordak relishes over his status as a ruler or the “luxury” it affords him. He does not engage in the same behaviors his progenitor manifests.

There is no point in the show where Hordak relishes over his status as a ruler or the “luxury” it affords him. He does not engage in the same behaviors his progenitor manifests. He attempts to emulate Prime in order to project authority in the only way he knows how but since those are some really big shoes to fill, he is woefully inadequate.

If Hordak had been power hungry, he would have stayed in despondos and ruled his own faction. Being away from Prime is the most powerful and autonomous he’s ever been and yet, he wants to throw all of that away in order to be a powerless, nameless part of the whole. What Hordak wanted was to be enslaved by Prime because that’s what he had been created for.

“vengeful” – and how did Hordak manifest this vengefulness? Who did he take revenge on in the series?

“apologize” – when and where in his 3 minutes of screentime would he remember everything after 2 mindwipes, realize that the whole worldview he had since inception is wrong, realize that he had been mistaken into doing the horrible things he did and then go to all of the characters and apologize for it?

Would anyone be convinced of that had it happened in 3 minutes? I’d rather they don’t redeem him than do a shit job at it.

Very true. He’s not a better person. He’s just a person in an impossible situation. Both Hordak and Catra were handed a raw deal, I don’t understand why everyone insists on pitting them against one another. They both did bad things and they were both in horrible situations. The specifics don’t really matter since neither of them would have done the things they did had they been more fortunate.

This is the exact reason for which I don’t hold Cara’s actions against her. Catra’s only model of success was Shadow Weaver. She emulated her abusive mother figure because she had no other example and because she wanted to please that woman. It does not excuse the way Catra acted but it explains it.

I really don’t understand why some people want Catra punished. I’d rather she get love and help. That is what she needs. In time, she will want to do better and be better by herself. She doesn’t need to be forced, heavens know, she’s been forced enough as it is.

They are really different. Catra got an abusive, shitty and violent childhood. Hordak got this:

He was literally robbed of a childhood.

She was taught by Shadow Weaver that weakness gets you killed. Hordak was not allowed to have emotions to begin with, or thoughts of his own, or a name...

Comparing to victims of abuse to see which one of them is more likable is such a strange concept to me.

Catra was robbed in s5 too. I don’t hold that against her. I blame it on the writers. S5 could have been a lot better.

#Hordak #Catra #catra vs hordak discourse strikes again #can we please stop with this #it's been 6 months #my pixel is nicer than that pixel #a cartoon villain is not an actual despot #cartoon and fandom activism is not real activism #Cartoon characters can't apologize for their actions unless the writers make them #the writers in s5 were too busy with butchering the previous seasons to actually put any thought into the cohesiveness of this show's themes #everyone felt a bit ooc in s5 #spop critical #spop fandom drama #spop

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lunar-jimin · 4 years

Text

life goes on, it gets so heavy; the wheel breaks the butterfly

Pairing: Jungkook x fem!reading

Rating: 18+

Genre: smut, angst, fluffy ending, ceo!jungkook, secretary!reader

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: cheating, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, using pulling out as a protective method (don’t do this kids), dom!jungkook, sub!reader, cumming in pants, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, daddy kink, degradation, lovey-dovey sex, impreg kink

Summary: Despite being the golden heir of a wealthy empire, Jungkook is incredibly unhappy with life he’s been handed. When you show up in his office one morning, you change his life in the way he least expected, but in the way he needed the most.

a/n: This is an anonymous commission for my BLM fundraiser!! If you would like to request something yourself, you can find the link to my official post here! I would also like to thank the lovely @nightowls388 for beta reading!!

| masterlist | moodboard | playlist |

The air was too hot. Uncomfortable. Sticky. Jungkook loosened the tie around his neck in a desperate attempt to free himself from the confines of his suit. He hated August. It was always too warm, too sunny. He preferred the dark winter days where the snow silenced the universal white noise. Black suits weren’t as suffocating on forty degree days.

He glanced out the window of the Rolls Royce, taking in the pedestrians struggling not to melt in the intense gaze of the sun. He sympathized with their struggle. Even the blast of freezing draft from the air conditioner did little to spare him from the heat. He enjoyed watching people. He was fascinated by the little idiosyncrasies that formed them into unique individuals, each essential to making the world work. Besides, everyone’s life seemed more interesting to him than his own.

There was a point in his life when he was content with the plan his parents had laid out for him before he was in diapers. He looked forward to one day taking over his father’s company, marrying a nice girl, and starting a family. It was a simple plan and one that gained the approval of the adults in his life: something he was constantly vying for as an adolescent. It was what he was raised with. When he went to college, everything changed. For the first time in his existence, he wasn’t being inundated with his parent’s doctrine and found that there was more to life than running Fortune 500 companies. His parents were less than pleased to discover that he had accompanied his business major with a minor in photography.

But despite the longing that had bloomed in him for something more intriguing than sterile offices and mundane board meetings, he still found himself back home where his parents once again instilled in him the desire to be the golden heir. A year after his return as the prodigal son, his parents set him with the woman who was now his wife. Three years after that, his father decided that he would rather spend his days on the golfing green rather than in sky-high conference rooms, so he handed off the company to Jungkook. Ever since Jungkook had been locked inside stuffy black suits and boring ties. And he absolutely hated it.

He squirmed in his seat, his desire to escape increasing with each second he was locked in the back of the car. God, why was it so hot? He felt like crying- a feeling that had become increasingly common during the past six months. His brain felt like a bubbling volcano waiting patiently to explode. Sometimes, Jungkook imagined what would happen when it did. He would divorce his wife, leave his job, and move to some island in the Caribbean where he would spend the rest of his days taking pictures. It was a nice dream, but it was only that, a dream.

He shook his head, trying to contain his runaway emotions. As the car came to a halt in front of the office building, Jungkook tightened his tie and grabbed his briefcase before exiting out into the scalding heat. If inside the car was bad, outside was absolute hell. It was so hot, Jungkook swore he was on fire. He frowned, rushing into the safety of the air-conditioned skyscraper in front of him before he broke out in a sweat.

He sighed in relief the second he made it through the rotating doors. He had never been so grateful for the large air conditioning bill in all his life. His relief was so immense that it took a full minute to realize something was wrong. Normally, the second he walked through the door, his secretary greeted him with an iced coffee and a pastry, but as he looked around, his secretary was nowhere to be found. Yet another sigh escaped his mouth as he stepped into the elevator. Why of all days did today have to be the day his secretary magically disappeared? He shook his head.

He noticed her the minute he arrived at his office floor. She was bent over a box, all her attention focused on searching for whatever object was eluding her. It took her a moment to notice his presence, but when she did, she bolted upright before scurrying in front of the desk, hands behind her back. Jungkook looked her up and down, transfixed by the beautiful stranger.

“Can I help you?”

His voice came out harsher than he meant it to and he cringed when you tried to disguise a wince.

“Um, yes, I’m your new secretary, Mr. Jeon.”

His brows furrowed.

“New secretary? What happened to the old one? He was perfectly fine.”

He didn’t remember any emails about his secretary leaving, although to be fair, he hadn’t been paying attention to much these days. He might physically be at work, but more often than not, his mind had drifted to far off places. Mostly island paradises.

“He moved away.”

“Ah,” he gave you a once over, “and what is your name, new secretary?”

You answered him. He nodded as if you had given him the right answer on a quiz.

“And I don’t suppose anyone has told you how things work around here.”

“No sir.”

His hands clenched at the name, a picture of you on your knees before him (with much less clothing) popped into his head. He shook it off, trying to stay the least bit professional. He had a wife for god’s sake.

“I see. Well, for future reference, I expect you to meet me each day in the lobby with an iced americano and a pastry,” he paused when he realized how demanding he sounded before softly adding, “No cherries though, I hate cherries.”

You nodded, grabbing a sticky note and jotting down his instructions.

“For now, just get settled in. Do you happen to know if I have any meetings today?”

You nodded again, “You have a lunch meeting with the Samsung marketing director at one, sir.”

There it was again. That damn formality. It was really going to get the better of him.

“You will accompany me. I expect you to take notes, but don’t contribute to the conversation. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Jungkook nodded before making a beeline to his office before he got a boner. He let out a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him. His heart pounded in his chest and despite his desperate attempts, he’s chubbed up a bit in his pants.

He didn’t want to admit that it’s because you might be the most attractive woman he has ever seen. He didn’t want to admit that he hasn’t been this turned on in months. Instead, he passed it off on the fact that he hadn’t had sex with his wife in three months which left behind quite a bit of built-up tension.

The hours ticked by and Jungkook attempted to bury himself with the neverending stack of paperwork. He remembered there was a time when he loved to show off his signature (there was a reason fifteen-year-old him never had a girlfriend), but now he wanted to chop off his hands so that he could never sign a contract again. He was thankful when the clock struck eleven, releasing him from his office, even if it meant being stuck talking shop for an hour while eating expensive but flavorless food.

He stepped out to find you arranging photos on the wall beside your desk. You glanced up when you heard the door open and flashed him a blinding smile.

“Ready, sir?”

He nodded. The title was really going to be a problem.

The meeting was the beginning of Jungkook’s personal purgatory. Every day you would greet him with a smile and the best pastries he had ever tasted. (He was surprised when you admitted to him that you had baked them yourself. If you weren't proving to be an amazing secretary, he would suggest that you open a bakery, but he’s selfish.) You were a good listener and caught onto his routines without a struggle. But every day you would show up dressed as pure temptation. It wasn’t even that your outfits were scandalous, just simple pencil skirts and pastel blouses, but you made them look like sin incarnate. It didn’t help that every night he went home to his wife who he barely noticed existed anymore.

There had been a point when he and his wife were, er, passionate. For the first couple of years, Jungkook even managed to convince himself that he was in love with her. But a couple of months ago, weekly dinners turned into once a month before they disappeared altogether. To make the situation worse, his mother was starting to complain about her lack of children, but he didn’t know how to break it to her that he couldn’t remember the last time he had kissed his wife, much less had sex with her. There were no bitter feelings or resentment, just indifference. He had briefly considered couples therapy before deciding against it. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to attempt to salvage the crumbs of his marriage.

You had only added fuel to the fire. Jungkook found himself just as infatuated with your mind as he was with your body. Not only did you laugh at his dumb jokes and listen to his whining, but you had witty contributions and easily found out-of-the-box solutions. He swore this quarter’s numbers would be higher just from you alone. And you flirted. He wasn’t sure at first, incredibly hesitant to respond in fear of a scandalous HR report. But when he caught your gaze on him when you thought he wasn’t looking one too many times, he realized there was a good chance that you liked him just as much as he liked you.

Between you, his wife, and his desperate need to escape this world of offices, limos, and quid pro quo, his life was unraveling right in front of him. Still, he tried to hold onto all the pieces before they landed in a disappointed heap in his lap. He wasn’t quite ready to let it all go to shit. He definitely was not ready to meet his parents’ disapproving faces when he lost everything they had worked so hard to ensure he had.

Two months after you began working, he found himself at an overcrowded party praying he was anywhere but there. Sadly, being a CEO meant that he wasn’t allowed to drink away his woes, lest he make a fool of himself in front of all the investors. Instead, he was forced to stay exhaustingly sober as he watched everyone around him devolve into debauchery. He found his wife pleasantly drunk near the bar talking to one of her friends whose face he recognized but couldn’t remember her name for the life of him.

“Having fun darling?”

He grinned, trying to play the role of loving husband. A role that had become increasingly difficult to mimic.

“It’s your birthday party, I should be asking you. Have you even had a drink? Probably not,” she turned back to her friend, “He never drinks at these things, something about keeping up appearances. I think it’s dumb. It’s his own birthday for fuck’s sake.”

He rolled his eyes. There she went again, putting him down. It wasn’t the first time she had commented on his festive sobriety. She wasn’t a fan. Maybe it was because he only fucked her after he drank. Still, he conceded to her teasing, figuring one drink wouldn’t hurt. He waved down a bartender.

“A whiskey on the rocks, please,” he turned back to his wife, “satisfied?”

She grinned at him before resuming ignoring him in favor of whatever fascinating conversation her friend was providing. He sighed before grabbing his drink and making his way out to the balcony. The air inside the penthouse was stuffy and he was beginning to feel claustrophobic. He was surprised to find you already out there, nursing your own drink in your hand. It wasn't unusual for people from the office to be at his personal parties. His father had taught him a long time ago that inviting your employees into your personal life was key to inspiring loyalty. It made them feel like they knew you and that they were important to you. But seeing as you were a relatively new addition, he had never seen you outside of the office and if you were sexy in skirts and blouses, the dress you had on should be illegal. He gulped before leaning next to you on the rail.

"Parties not your thing?"

You jumped, spilling a bit of your drink onto the dark street below.

"Um, no, parties are fine. Rich people parties are just a whole new animal."

He chuckled.

"That's fair I suppose. Even I get sick of those fuckers. They do realize that they aren’t at the office anymore right? No need to brag about how well your stock is doing"

You smiled at him before looking back out at the city skyline. Despite having grown up with views like this, Jungkook still found it breathtaking. Almost as breathtaking as he found you. He took a sip of his drink, trying to drown his thoughts in alcohol. When he looked at you again, he felt his stomach churn. You were so beautiful that he wasn't sure what to do with himself. A sigh escaped him. You broke out of your trance and turned to look at him.

"Something wrong?"

"No. Not really."

You raised your eyebrow.

"I just- I know this sounds stupid and pretentious- but I really just don't want to do this anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"This job. This lifestyle. This life. I was raised to be the perfect CEO with the perfect family, a copy of my father really, but that's not what I want. All my family has ever seen me as is the golden heir and honestly, I don’t know if I can be that anymore."

"Who do you want to be?"

"I don't know. A photographer I guess. And marry somebody I actually choose to fall in love with. And live away from the stress of trying to please every person in my life at the cost of my own happiness."

"You don't love your wife?"

"No, I do. Kinda. I just... My parents picked her out and at some point, I was smitten with her, but we're so different and she wants success and money and, well, I don't care about that as much. She’s not a bad person, she’s just obsessed with her books and her writing, and well, that doesn’t leave much room for family. I’m not much better though."

"Oh."

"And we haven't been too hot lately."

"How so?"

"Um, well, we're really distant, and, um, we haven't had sex in two months."

You snorted and he blanched. He usually never shared that kind of thing with anyone and here he was confessing his personal problems to you, his secretary. The alcohol must be affecting him more than he thought. This is why he didn't drink at parties.

"How? Has she seen you? I would be all over you if I was your wife.”

You realized what you had said a moment too late and you looked at him with wide eyes, a faint blush covering your face. He let out a nervous chuckle.

“Would you now?”

You nodded before downing the rest of your drink. Jungkook felt something akin to butterflies begin to flutter in his stomach. He had known that he was fairly attractive, but something about hearing someone as ethereal as you admit it made his heart do flips.

“Yeah, well, it’s really on me I guess. I haven’t really wanted to.”

“You don’t want to have sex?”

Relief washed over your face when you realized that he wasn’t going to linger on your slip up.

“Yeah. Well no. I do want to have sex. Just not with her.”

“I see. Well, who do you want to have sex with?”

It was a small glimpse, almost imperceptible, but he saw the recognition in your face as you watched his eyes glance over you.

“Me?”

Jungkook gulped. What was he doing? What was he getting himself into? He had a life to protect. Expectations to uphold. And yet, here he was, considering risking it all for a secretary who was making him feel something for the first time in months.

When he gathered enough courage to look at you, he found you staring at his lips. One second he’s waging a war with himself and the next your mouth is on his. Your lips are just as warm and soft as he thought they would be and for a moment he lets himself be absorbed by them. But reality rapidly floods back, and he pushes you away. You looked at him, obviously hurt by the rejection.

“I’m sorry.”

He’s being honest. He doesn’t want to hurt you. But he was a coward who was afraid of what people thought of him. And the things people would think about him if they knew he kissed his secretary were not pretty.

“It’s fine.”

You failed to cover up the disappointment in your voice.

“It’s not you. It’s just I have a wife, and a family with expectations and-”

He sighs.

“Look, it’s fine. Really. I’m just gonna get going, okay? I’ll see you on Monday.”

With that, you leave him to his own devices. He watches your figure go, before turning back to face the city.

“Fuck.”

If work was hell before, it was nothing compared to what it was now. Every day, he found himself torn between wanting to take you on his desk and wanting to never see you again. Ever since the party, the memory of your lips pressed on his had haunted him like an orphaned Victorian ghost with a thirst for revenge. It was on replay in his mind to the point he couldn’t properly sleep anymore. He felt like shit, and he was pretty sure he looked it too, but if anyone noticed they neglected to say anything.

You, on the other hand, seemed to be doing just fine. You hadn’t so much as mentioned the party. You performed your duties with your usual pep and continued to bring him your heavenly pastries. He resented you a little bit for being able to move on so easily. Here he was hung up on a moment he had fucked up, and there you were acting like nothing had happened. He wanted to scream.

So he pulled back. He only talked to you if it was absolutely necessary. He never looked your way. He threw himself into his job. But you were still there, just as tempting as the first day he had seen you. His mind was being forced to choose between you alongside the island paradise he dreamed of, and keeping up appearances while pleasing his elders. A week passed and he was miserable. He was exhausted and all his will power had been depleted.

That’s why he ended up doing what he did. Or at least that’s what he told himself. Friday rolled around and Jungkook was at his wit’s end. And then there you were, fifteen feet away from him flirting with some random guy from IT. (Namjoon, maybe?) It was harmless, but it didn’t stop Jungkook’s gut from twisting about inside of him. Why didn’t you flirt with him? Why didn’t you show him any signs of affection? He reminds himself that he rejected you, but it’s no help. Jealousy overwhelms him as he squirms in his leather chair. He barely noticed his hands clamped into fists or the way his jaw had clenched to the point of pain. When Namjoon leans over to whisper into your ear, Jungkook loses the small tidbits of control he had left.

He pushes himself out of his chair and storms out, not bothering to say anything as he grabs your arm and pulls you away from a stunned Namjoon and back to his office, slamming the door behind him.

“Can I help you?”

Your tone is curt and your face was twitching with displeasure. Jungkook realized that once he had you, he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do with you. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He would certainly like to bend you over his desk and fuck you until you couldn’t walk, but he was fairly certain that wouldn’t go over well with you right now.

“Umm…”

He felt a blush cross his face as he realized he was still holding onto your wrist. He released it before turning to pace back and forth across the marble floor.

“Well?”

You folded your arms across your chest, your eyes were alight with something dangerous. Something that Jungkook found incredibly sexy. Before his brain could register with what he was doing, he found himself marching over to you, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you in for a kiss.

You stiffened against him, but before you had a chance to respond, he had pulled away from you. The guilt was almost immediate, drowning him in regret and confusion. You too looked confused, as you stood stock still, surprise plastered all over your face. Jungkook turned and walked back to his chair.

“You can go.”

You seemed to barely register the words as you nodded before absent-mindedly wandering out of his office. Jungkook relaxed in his seat as he tried to make sense of what had happened. He knew he had feelings for you, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Nothing he couldn’t control. But he had lost control and now he wasn’t able to trust himself. And he didn’t know if he wanted to.

After that, things went back to normal. Well, as normal as they could be. He gathered the courage to interact with you again. But now instead of friendly glances and gestures, there were secret looks and subtle touches. Jungkook knew he was a wind-up toy one twist away from snapping, but he couldn’t help but indulge in your flirty gestures.

He found himself growing bolder as the consequences he had once worried about seemed to be a world away. What started with the brush of a hand across the hip, grew to a hand on your thigh in the back of the car. Dark stares and lip bites plagued his day. At night, he would go home and lock himself in his private office where he would wrap his hand around his cock while conjuring up images of you in a variety of wanton states, all for him.

He should’ve known that staying at work late with you would be a bad idea. Usually, you had the rest of the employees to keep you in check. With them gone, he found himself finding little reason to hold himself back.

“And so that’s why I think it’s a good idea to start engaging with younger consumers.”

You had been discussing ways to boost sales for the quarter, but he had stopped listening long ago, instead focusing on how your shirt was opened a button lower than usual.

“Mr. Jeon?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you listening?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Of course. Younger consumers. Got it.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Maybe if you spent less time staring at my chest and more time focusing on these market studies, we would already have higher sales.”

“Sorry.”

“Sure you are.”

“You’re right. I’m not.”

The drop of his voice surprised even him. You looked at him with an unreadable look from your perch on the edge of his desk.

“And what is so enticing about my chest?”

Jungkook gulped. Your eyes had darkened and he felt himself start to stir in his pants.

“It’s a part of you. And you are so sexy I can barely control myself.”

You smirked, before sauntering over to him and lowering yourself into his lap. The scent of your perfume overwhelmed him as you leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Then don’t.”

Somewhere inside him, a cord snapped. The control he had been trying to reign in had broken free and he was left to his own primal devices. He pulled your lips to his, finally relishing in getting to properly kiss you. You responded instantly, lips moving against his as your hands buried themselves in his hair. You tugged on the strands and Jungkook moaned into your mouth, hips bucking up into you as his hand grabbed your ass. You returned his moans and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

His brain was a mess of emotions and hormones. He was overwhelmingly hard in his pants and your lips felt too good against his. You rolled your hips on top of him and he let a growl, the need to take you battling with his need to preserve the few remaining shreds of his dignity.

He didn’t have the chance to make a decision though when the office door swung open and the head of a very confused janitor popped in.

“Uh…I thought you were gone,” he stuttered, “...I’ll just leave.”

The janitor blushed before shutting the door. Jungkook turned back to look at you to find a similar rosy hue had graced your cheeks.

“Um...I should probably get going too.”

Your voice was meek and the embarrassment of getting caught was plastered all over your face. He can’t blame you though, he isn’t doing too well himself. The fear of getting caught had left him deflated in more ways than one.

“Yeah, sure, that’s probably good.”

You moved off his lap, readjusting your skirt as you do so. You grab your purse and jacket before walking to the door. Just as you were about to open it, you turn back to look at him.

“Good night, Jungkook.”

He looked up surprised. It was the first time you had called him by his first name. It sounded heavenly coming from your lips.

“Goodnight.”

Before he left for the night, he made sure to track down the janitor and offer him a healthy sum of money to stay quiet. He took it happily and continued on his way.

The weekend passed slowly for Jungkook. You plagued his thoughts with images of your rumpled skirt and the feeling of your hands in his hair. His wife was out of town for yet another business trip. He didn’t care. It just gave him more time with the thought of you while his hand was around his cock.

When Monday finally rolled around, Jungkook found himself the happiest he’d ever been to go to work. As he walked into the lobby, the sight of you washed over him like the cold water of a lake on the hottest day of summer. Something about your smile seemed to relieve him of all the heavy stress he was carrying on his shoulders.

He almost made it through the day without losing control of himself. Despite all the glances he gave you, or the way you brushed your hand against his while you leaned over next to him to explain a chart, he managed to keep it together. But when you bent over in front of his desk to pick up a pen he dropped, he lost all control. The next thing he knew, he was slamming you against his office door, lips attacking yours, while his hips rutted into you.

Your initial shock wore off almost instantly and you groaned as you melted into him. You wrapped a leg around his waist, dragging him closer to your core. The kiss was messy and he was sure your lipstick was ruined. A fervent need overwhelmed him as he humped you like a desperate teenager. You pulled away to catch your breath, dark eyes looking staring back at his own.

“Fuck, you turn me on so much, baby,” he growled into your ear, hips moving faster.

Words seemed to fail you as you whined back at him, pleasure contorting in your face. You suddenly let go of him, before dropping down to your knees. Instead of going to undo his pants like he expected, you simply gave a long lick over his bulge. Jungkook’s legs immediately turned to jello and he had to brace himself on the door to keep himself upright.

“Oh fuck, what are you doing baby?”

“I’m getting you off. Do you want me to make you feel good sir?”

For once he was happy to hear the name. He didn’t get a chance to respond before you grabbed him through his pants. He threw his head back with a moan. It briefly occurred to him that people might hear through the thin walls, but your hand on his hard cock soon relieved him of all thought. It didn’t take much to get him to the point of no return. Even with all the nights spent with his fist and a bottle of lube he still felt like a rubber band getting stretched to its limit. You were barely touching him, but there he was, on the precipice of cumming in his own damn pants. He barely had time to warn you before spurts of hot cum filled his boxer briefs with white. “Oh, fuck.”

You giggled as he let out soft groans, cock twitching in its confines. The high of pleasure was quickly wiped away as the sensation of sticky underwear rose to his attention.

“You’re a bad, bad girl, baby. You made me cum in my pants. Do you know what happens to bad girls?”

“No, sir.”

“They get punished.”

“And how are you going to punish me, sir?”

Jungkook had to stifle a groan. You were still on your knees in front of him, calling him ‘sir’. Despite having just had one of the better orgasms in his life, his dick twitched with interest.

“Stand up.”

You quickly obey, rising to your full height, but keeping eye contact the entire time.

“Take off your panties.”

Your eyes grew wide at his demand, but you obeyed him nonetheless. The second you grasped the pink lace in your hand, he snatched them from you, immediately bringing them up his nose. He inhaled, letting himself get lost in the musky aroma.

“Shit, baby, you smell so good. I can’t wait to eat your wet pussy. But not today. You were bad today and only good girls get their pussy eaten.”

You let out a whimper but kept your mouth shut, body frozen in place. He stuffed your panties into his pant pocket before walking over to his desk and taking a seat.

“You may go.”

You looked like you wanted to say something, probably about your lack of undergarments, but you held your tongue and turned to leave.

“Oh, and one last thing.”

You turned back to him.

“I’m going to need a new suit. It seems I’ve spilled some coffee on this one.”

He smirked and you nodded, before stepping out the door.

He didn’t try to hold himself back after that. He would take you whenever the opportunity arose. It didn’t take long for him to fulfill his promise to eat you out. He would forever remember the way you whined his name while his mouth pulled not one, but two orgasms from your dripping pussy. And when he finally got to feel your mouth around his cock, he was fairly sure he had found nirvana.

He wouldn’t fuck you though. He knew it was silly as if he would be betraying his wife any more than he already was by having sex with you, but for some reason, he felt the need to draw a line. To separate the boundary between the fantasy land he had created with you and the cold reality that he returned home to. His wife had become all but a ghost in his life, and as a result, Jungkook found you providing his only emotional support in addition to sexual release. He didn’t want to admit that somehow, in a few short months, you had grown from being just his secretary to his closest companion.

He didn’t want to admit it because he was too afraid of where it would lead. He was already teetering on the edge to give it all up, even before you had shown up in his office looking like a gift from heaven, but now, now he was fairly certain that even the tiniest breeze would push him over. And he didn’t know if you would be there to catch him if he fell.

But that didn’t stop him from starting to dream of a future with you. The island paradise in his mind expanded to include you. Flashes of laughing children, nights under the stars, and soft kisses danced through his mind. You would have your own bakery, he would take pictures, and together you would create your own little family. One that was far removed from the hassle and the stress of his painful existence.

Jungkook was over the moon to discover that you would be accompanying him on a work trip to Japan. For one whole week, you would be one door away. Even if it was a ruse, Jungkook would be allowed to pretend, for one whole week, that you were his and he was yours alone. On the plane ride alone, he made you cum three times in the cramped bathroom. During the day, you would both try to hold it together. Merger meetings were laced with subtle glances and hidden touches. At night, you would become a whole other animal.

You tested his limits. Dared him to give in and finally give you what you both wanted: him inside you. Every night you would knock on his door in translucent nighties that highlighted the fact you had discarded your bra. After the second night of showing up in see-through clothes, Jungkook decided to return the favor, opening the door with his shirt unbuttoned, leaving his abs out for anyone to see. While you were both visibly affected by each other’s teasing, neither of you gave in until the last moment, each of you leaping into each other's arms and making a mess of the hotel furniture. But he still didn’t fuck you. It was his line. His final frontier.

On the last night of the trip, Jungkook suggested that they finally test out the jacuzzi on his balcony. Bad idea. When you showed up in a tiny red bikini that did little to protect your dignity, Jungkook felt himself spiraling out of control. Instead of greeting you like he usually did, he thrust a cocktail in your hand while trying to will his dick into submission. He made it through about ten minutes in the hot tub, trying to participate in regular conversation with you. But he couldn’t, not when your tits were sitting right there. He was no longer sure if the sweat dripping down his forehead was from the warm water or the pent up tension.

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“I can’t take this anymore,” he groaned.

“Can’t take what?”

Your eyes gleamed, daring him to admit to what they both knew he so desperately needed.

“There is nothing more I want then to sink into your pretty pink pussy right now.”

“So why don’t you?”

It was the first time you had questioned why he refused to have sex with you, and now that you were finally confronting him about it, he found himself at a loss for a reasonable explanation. The line that he thought he was creating by refusing to have sex with you had long ago been blurred to the point of no longer existing. And here you were, with your warm body inches from him, wanting him just as much as he wanted to you and he knew that he was done for.

“Fuck it.”

With that, he pulled you onto his lap, attaching his lips to yours for the three millionth time. He would never tire of your kisses, the way they comforted his soul, and quenched his constant need for your touch. You eagerly responded to him, tongue licking the seam of his lips. As the two of you began to explore each other’s mouths, his hands came up to the string keeping your bikini top together and gave it a quick jerk, letting the scarlet cloth fall from your body. He pulled back and groaned at the sight of your perfect tits, the water around you swishing as he rolled his hips up into yours.

You whined out, “Fuck, baby. Just like that. God, I can’t wait for you to be inside me.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook’s voice was low with lust, “Me neither, baby. You’re gonna be such a good slut for me aren’t you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Even after months of you calling him ‘sir’ in less than professional situations, Jungkook still hadn’t gotten used to it. He felt every inch of his skin tingle with sheer pleasure every time the word fell from your shameless mouth. You whined, teeth pulling at his bottom lip as you pressed down on top of him, just as desperate as he was. He moved from your mouth to your neck, kissing down to your collarbone, where he stopped to take the time to leave a rosy mark that signified you were his and his alone. Once he was satisfied with it, he continued down your chest, taking one of your pretty pink nipples in his mouth, sucking on the hardened bud. You moaned out his name, hips stuttering against his. God, he loved your breasts.

Your hands tangled themselves in his hair, pulling on them to the point of pain. Jungkook didn’t care though. He loved when you showed him just how good he could make you feel. It made him feral. Sure, receiving pleasure was gratifying, but there was nothing quite like watching you squirm from his ministrations.

He reluctantly pulled away from your tits to pull the ties keeping your bikini bottoms intact before discarding the garment in the same manner as your top, leaving you naked on top of him. He took a moment to pull back and admire how beautiful you looked. You sat there as he looked you over, a blush rising to your cheeks. You crossed your arms over your chest in an attempt to make yourself less vulnerable to him.

“Oh no baby, don’t hide yourself from me,” he gently pulls your arms away, “you’re too beautiful to stay covered up.”

Your blush intensified. He smiled at you, wrapping his large arms around your body and carrying you out of the hot tub. Your lips reconnected with his as he stumbled his way into the hotel room, tossing you on the king-sized bed.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?”

His voice was as dark as his eyes. You nodded in response, voice escaping you.

“That’s my baby.”

He pulled off his wet swim trunks before joining you on the bed, where your wet body had begun to soak the sheets. If he had his way, they would be much wetter by the time the night was over. He wasted no time diving into your pussy, lips attaching to your clit, drawing out your sweet moans. His fingers found your entrance, circling it a few times to collecting your slick, before slipping one in. Your back arched at the sensation and Jungkook let out a chuckled against your clit.

Your whines grew higher and he could tell that you were getting close to finishing. After months of exploring your body, he was well acquainted with how to play your pussy like an instrument, conducting your symphony of pleasure. He slipped in a second finger, crooking them upwards in search of the spot he knew would make you scream. When you cried out he knew that he had found it and not five seconds later, you were coming all over his digits.

“Fuck, Kook.”

“I hope you don’t think that we’re done yet,” he growled as his fingers slowed before leaving your sopping cunt, “when I’m through with you, you won’t be able to walk for days. I'll have to carry you to every meeting and explain to them that I fucked you too hard for you to function.”

You clenched around nothing at his words and he mindlessly took his cock in his hands, giving it a few quick strokes.

“You like that don’t you? You would love for the entire world to know how much of a whore you are for my cock.”

“I would. I’m a whore for your cock, please give it to me. I’ve been a good girl.”

Without bothering to warn you, he lined himself up before sinking into you. You both groaned at the feeling of your tight cunt stretching around his cock. After months of dreaming of what your pink walls would feel like around him, he could confirm that the sensation was much better than anything his imagination had conjured.

He started with slow thrusts, trying to give himself time to come off the edge he had already been worked up to. Your legs came to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to you. As soon as you had adjusted to his girth, you began to roll your hips up to meet his.

“Go faster.”

“Uh uh, if you want Daddy to go faster, you have to beg like a proper slut.”

It just slipped out. Jungkook knew he had a daddy kink, but it generally stayed repressed deep within after his wife had shamed him for it. But you didn’t seem to mind. If anything, you squeezed him even tighter.

“Please Daddy, please go faster. Fuck my tight pussy.”

He conceded to your wishes, pulling all the way out, before thrusting back in. He set a tireless pace, pounding into you so hard the bed began to shake. He leaned down, meeting your lips in a sloppy kiss. Your teeth clacked together, but Jungkook didn’t care. He just wanted to be as close to you as possible.

He pulled away from your lips and his cock twitched at the visual of the string of saliva connecting your mouths. Without him to silence you, your moans mingling with the sound of skin slapping creating a beautiful symphony for Jungkook’s ears.

He felt himself approach the edge, honing in on his release. Luckily for him, your pussy was tightening around him, signaling that you were close too.

“Fuck, are you gonna cum for me, baby? Are you gonna come around Daddy’s cock like a good girl?”

“Yes Daddy, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-”

Your voice broke off into a high pitched moan as you clenched around him. You threw your head back, hands clawing into his skin. The mix of pain and pleasure sent him over the edge with you. He quickly pulled out before covering your pussy and stomach in white strands. As soon as the waves of ecstasy rescinded, he collapsed on top of you, exhaust claiming his muscles.

He laid there for a minute before hopping up and heading to the bathroom. When he came back out, warm towel in hand, he found you passed out on the soaked sheets. His heart skipped a beat at your blissed-out face and for a moment he wished he could feel as peaceful as you looked. After making sure you were thoroughly clean, he collapsed on the bed next to you. Sleep was quick to come to him, but not before he took you into his arms, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

A dam had burst. The two of you went at it like rabbits, he would take you any and every way could, whenever he could. He couldn’t get enough of you. He would take you in the back of the limo, in the elevator, empty conference rooms. It was to the point he was sure the entire company knew of your amorous relations, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. All he thought about was you. Even the fear of disappointing his parents was beginning to diminish. As his feelings for you grew and blossomed, his desire to please anyone else faded into a faint buzz in the background of his mind. You had him whipped.

He knew things were bad when his five year anniversary with his wife rolled around and he didn’t feel a thing when she told him that she wouldn’t be able to be there due to some book tour. Sure, a little part of him was upset that she didn’t care enough to even try to change the tour dates, but he knew that he didn't have a leg to stand on. In fact, he was rather grateful he wouldn’t have to plan some dinner to celebrate a love that had died long ago.

When you heard that he was spending his anniversary alone, you had offered him some company. He felt a twinge of guilt about the idea of having sex with a woman that wasn’t his wife on their anniversary, but not enough to stop him from inviting you over. So there you were, in his foyer, with an overnight bag, a bottle of wine, and a smile that could light up the heavens. He grinned back at you, taking the bottle and leading you into the living room.

“I’ll get us some glasses, yeah?”

“Sure. Do you mind if I change? Work clothes aren’t the most comfortable.”

“Oh, yeah, go ahead. There’s a bathroom down the hall to your left.”

When he returned to the living room with two glasses and a bottle opener, you were curled up on the couch in a tank and shorts. You were flipping through the photography book that he kept on the coffee table. You were so immersed in the pictures that you didn’t notice his presence.

“So whatcha want to do?”

You jumped, startled by the sound of his voice.

“It’s your anniversary, you should decide.”

He placed the opener and the glasses on the table next to the bottle before taking a seat next to you.

“I don’t know. How about we just drink and talk for a bit?” he paused, “Maybe that’s stupid.”

“Nope. Nothing about you is stupid.”

There was your damn smile again. Jungkook hated the way his heart pounded faster because of it. He smiled back at you. It only took a few sips of the merlot before Jungkook had begun to relax. He had been drunk around you plenty of times, but there was something about wine that made him want to pour his entire heart out to you.

He watched as you laughed at your own joke, strands of hair that had fallen loose from your tight ponytail danced on your cheek. The world seemed to slow down a little, time coming to a halt, making the room for him to exist with just you and no one else. It was somewhere in that warm, fuzzy space that the words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“I think I love you.”

Even the air in the room stilled. You stared at him, eyes wide with shock.

“What?”

You looked like a deer in headlights. Jungkook felt like one.

“Nothing. I was just running my mouth. Don’t mind me. Go back to telling me about this dream bakery of yours.”

Much to his chagrin, you didn’t budge, eyes still fixed on his rigid body. Your surprise had evaporated and you were now looking him up and down as if you were trying to analyze his inner thoughts. You both sat frozen for what felt like ages before you moved to kneel in front of him, taking his shaky hands in yours. When you opened your mouth, your voice was soft, caressing his soul.

“I love you too.”

The world stopped in its tracks. Jungkook swore his heart stopped beating in his chest. And then your lips were on his and even though he had kissed you more times than he could count, this felt different. This felt like the collision of two planets, the implosion of a star. Fireworks weren’t enough to describe the cascade of emotions pouring through him. His hands grasped your cheeks, gently caressing the soft skin. You hummed against his mouth as he pushed you back to lie on the couch, while your legs spread to make room for him between your thighs.

Jungkook swore he felt a tear trickle down his cheek, but he couldn’t tell if it was from you or him. He honestly didn’t care. The woman he had grown to love loved him back. He now knew that you would catch him if he fell. And so he let himself tumble over the precipice he had once been so terrified of. He could finally admit that your embrace was home and that your arms eyes were the safety he never felt. He loved you. You loved him. The stars had aligned.

He trailed his kisses away from your lips and to the crook of your neck where he inhaled. You smelled of the remnants of your perfume mixed with your own personal scent. He swore if he breathed it in enough, he would get high off it. Instead, he placed soft kisses on the delicate skin, before taking it in between his teeth, shamelessly marking you. The whole world would know that you belonged to him, almost as much as he belonged to you.

You moaned as he sucked the bruised skin into his mouth before shifting lower so that his face was right between your breasts. Your flimsy tank top did nothing to stop him from tearing it in two.

“Jesus, Kook,” you groaned as he took in the sight of your braless chest, bare before him.

“What? I can buy you all the tank tops you want. I would buy you the whole world.”

And it was true. If that’s what it would take to make you happy, that’s what he would do. Tears glinted in your eyes at his words before Jungkook ripped a moan out of your mouth when he took a nipple in his. He sucked on it before releasing it with a pop.

“These are the best tits in the world. I love them almost as much as I love you.”

He dove back in taking the neglected breast in his hand, rubbing the nipple. Your hips bucked up into him, desperate for more concrete pleasure than the little he was teasing you with.

“Slow, baby, I’ll get there. Slow.”

You whined in response, head thrown back against the arm of the couch while Jungkook swirled his tongue over you. Even though he was unbelievably hard in his sweats, he found no motivation to do anything about it, his sole focus on you and your pleasure.

He moved to kiss down your stomach. When he reached the hem of your shorts, he pulled them off, before moving to kiss over your lace panties. An obvious wet patch marked the center and Jungkook once again took the time to stop and smell you. The aroma overwhelmed him, driving him mad with carnal lust.

“Fuck baby, your dripping, and I’ve barely touched you yet.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re taking forever. Please baby, I need you.”

And how could he deny you when you were so sweet and all fucked out, just for him. He pulled your soaked panties to the side, groaning at your soaked, pink lips. He dove in, licking one long striped from the bottom of your cunt up to your clit. You bucked against him desperate for more.

In response, he wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding you in place. His tongue found your clit, eliciting angelic moans from you while he drew abstract shapes on your bundle of nerves. Your thighs began to quiver in his grip and he smiled against you. The thought of you coming from just his mouth had his dick twitching in excitement.

“Fuck, Kookie, I’m gonna cum.”

“That’s right baby, cum all over tongue.”

Seconds later, you're soaking his mouth while you writhed in pleasure. But Jungkook didn’t stop. He was too blissed out with his face in your cunt. He would stay like this forever if he could. He pulled one hand away from your thigh, to sneak around to your entrance, a finger slipping inside.

“Oh god, Kook, it’s too much.”

“You can do it, baby. I know you can.”

You looked like you were about to protest before he curled his finger up, hitting your g-spot. You cried out, more slick pouring out of you, if that was possible. He knew that there was a large wet spot staining his ten-thousand-dollar couch, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Slipping another finger in you, he began to flick with his tongue, daring you to come again. It didn’t take long.

“Oh shit, Kook, shit, shit, gonna cum, shit, shit-”

He’s never heard you scream so loud in all the months he’s had the privilege of giving you orgasms. Before he could properly register what was happening, you were squirting all over him. Your hips bucked out of your control as you painted his face with your orgasm. Jungkook swore that if he had any less self-control, he would’ve come all over in his pants.

As you came down from your high, Jungkook scooped you up, carrying you to the bedroom. He laid you gently on the bed, giving you a few moments to recover as he stripped himself of his own clothes. You sat up, watching him closely as he slowly revealed himself to you. He was well built, he knew that, but you often told him how much you appreciated his muscles, as if the way you kissed and bit his abs weren’t enough of a clue. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t started working out more just to please you.

But he also knew that he could never step foot in a gym again and you would still love him just as much. That was the difference between you and his wife. You loved him without condition, without the need for him to be someone he wasn’t. His wife had fallen in love with only one version of him, a version that no longer existed.

He joined you on the bed, crawling up between your legs, giving you a soft kiss when he reached your lips. You fell back on the pillows letting him take in your face, your body, you. He bucked up against you, tip rubbing your clit and you let out simultaneous moans.

Just when he was about to slip into you, his phone rang on the bedside table. He groaned, lifting himself up to see who dared to call him when he was about to have sex with the love of his life. A flash of guilt rushed through him when he saw his wife’s name light up the screen. Of course it was her. Despite everything, this was a woman who would keep up appearances until her dying breath. And here he was, about to have sex with another woman in their shared bed. He sighed, swiping to ignore the call, before tossing it back on the table.

This time, he didn’t wait to enter you, thrusting in immediately. He groaned at the feeling of your soft walls encapsulating him. Ever since the first time you had had sex, he had always made sure to use a condom, but he couldn’t bring himself to care that he wasn’t using one now. Being inside you without the extra barrier felt so intrinsically right. In fact, part of him was excited about the idea of going raw and risking getting you pregnant.

“You wanna get me pregnant?”

Your voice was soft and curious. He stilled inside of you,

“Umm…?”

His voice trailed off as he tried to come up with a reasonable response. His brain failed him.

“It’s okay if you do. It’s kinda hot actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t mind having your kid.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the moan that fell out of his mouth. He thrust softly in you. So many hormones were flooding his brain that he could barely focus on what was happening.

“Well, then I guess it’s my duty to make sure you’re nice and pregnant for me by the end of the night.”

“Yeah, Kookie,” you whined, “give it to me. Want you to cum in me. Want your baby.”

The two of you met in a messy kiss as Jungkook pounded into you, balls slapping your ass. Desperation flooded him, determination to knock you up with his child overriding every other need. He’d never had the desire to get someone pregnant like this before. There was something about you that pulled at all his primal instincts.

You were tightening again, your moans drowning out the sound of skin slapping accentuated by Jungkook’s own grunts. Jungkook himself wasn’t too far from finishing himself, having been on edge since you squirted all over him.

“Fuck baby,” you moaned, “you fuck me so well.”

“Yeah. Are you gonna cum for me? Are you gonna cum so that I can get you pregnant?”

“Yes, fuck, I love yo-”

Your voice faded into a scream as tears rolled down your cheeks as you came for the third time that night. The look on your face triggered Jungkook’s own orgasm. He roared as jets of white cum covered your inner walls. His hips stuttered as he chanted your name. Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, holding him deep within you.

He rolled over without pulling out, keeping you tight in his arms.

“Mmm,” you hummed, “hope that did the trick.”

“Yeah? Me too,” he smiled.

You grinned back.

“Are you not gonna pull out?”

“We gotta keep my cum in you so we make sure it does the trick.”

“Okay,” you chuckled.

“What?”

He pouted.

“You’re just cute.”

“I’m not cute.”

“Sure...”

He giggled when you rolled your eyes, pressing a peck on your lips. The two of you stayed like that for the rest of the night, wrapped in each other's arms, talking until sleep carried you off into dreamland.

Jungkook woke the next morning before you. He took a moment to admire your face, not believing that you were really all his. He softly kissed your forehead before wiggling his way out of your embrace.

He quietly slipped on a tee and some sweats before making his way to the kitchen where he put on a pot of coffee. While he waited, he checked his phone, expecting to find a voicemail from his wife. He was surprised to find none. He opened the phone app and his stomach dropped. There at the top of his recent calls was a twenty-minute call with her. He must have accidentally answered it. She must have heard everything. Anxiety crept up on him as he began to pace the white kitchen floor. Before he knew what he was doing, the phone was dialing.

“Hello?”

Her voice was groggy.

“Hi.”

His voice quivered.

“What do you want Jungkook?”

“Oh, umm, I’m sorry I guess,” his voice is quiet, “For what you heard.”

“You mean listening to you moan about how you wanted to get your secretary pregnant?”

He cringed at her dripping sarcasm.

“Yeah. That.”

“Don’t be.”

“What?”

“Don’t be sorry. I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“Jungkook,” she sighed, “I think we both knew something like this was going to happen.”

“Yeah, I guess. But that doesn’t mean that it was okay for me to cheat on you.”

“That’s true.”

They both stay silent for a minute, letting it all sink in.

“I suppose that means this is the end of the road for us then, huh?”

“Yeah, it is. But it’s okay. We weren’t meant to be. All things being said, you sound like you really love her.”

“I do, I really do.”

“And if I’m being honest, I’ve kinda had a thing for my editor for a while.”

“Seokjin?”

He was honestly surprised that he remembered his name.

“Yeah.”

They both laughed.

“We’ll talk when you get back, yeah?”

“Yeah. Goodbye, Jungkook.”

“Goodbye.”

He hung up before leaning against the counter, throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. A breath of relief escaped as all the weight he had been carrying for so long fell from his shoulders. It was over. His dead marriage was finished and now he had the rest of his life to love you. He laughed giddily before running to wake you up and tell you the news.

Six months later, he’s on a beach in Jamaica, trying to take a picture of you without you noticing. He’s almost successful, your nose is buried too deep in a paperback you had propped up on your pregnant stomach, but you looked up when you heard the shutter click.

“Jungkook,” you groaned, “I told you not to take pictures of me.”

“I’m sorry, baby, I can’t help it. You're too sexy carrying my baby.”

You rolled your eyes behind your shades.

“Whatever. As long as no one else sees them.”

“Of course, baby. I’m keeping you all to myself.”

You grinned before turning back to your book.

A month after his conversation with his now ex-wife, their divorce had been finalized. He’d simultaneously quit his job as CEO, unafraid of disappointing anyone else at the expense of his happiness. He had made more than enough money to support the two, soon to be three, of you for the rest of your life. Together, you had moved to Jamaica, where you were working on opening a bakery and he had begun a fairly successful photography business. And in three months, the two of you would welcome a beautiful baby girl into the world.

He sighed, overly content with his life. He glanced down to your hand to spot the sparkling diamond on your ring finger. A month ago, he had taken you out on a boat ride where he had asked you to be his wife. You had eagerly accepted.

Now he was blissed out in that island paradise he had dreamed about all those months ago. His stress levels were an all-time low. And, sure, maybe his parents weren’t that happy with him, (all though his mother was over the moon when he announced the impending arrival of a grandchild, finally), but whenever he woke in the morning with you by his side, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. You were his whole world, and he wouldn’t give that up for anything.

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#ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #bangtanhq #goldenclosetnetwork #heartsforbts #btsgoldnet #houseofddaeng #bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #bangtanshadowfamily #bangtanidx #bts #fanfic #jungkook #smut #angst #fluff #ceo

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rpd-rookie · 4 years

Note

After all things he saw and been through, Leon could use some rest... So how about Leon x reader on vacation in some remote, distant place, phone turned off, Hannigan banned from contacting him over new assignments? I guess it would be perfect for post-Vendetta? I don't really care it it's going to be fluff, smut or whatever - I just want him to take his time off and simply enjoy his leave, wherever he'd go. ^_~

Author’s note: Sorry about the long wait. This OS actually became so long I decided to make it a 2 or 3 chapters long fanfic. Here’s the first prt. Hoping you’ll love it.

Warning: Angst, Mention of Alcoholism and Depression, Language, Mention of sex.

Information : Y/SN = your second name

Holidays - Leon S. Kennedy x Fem!Reader

A fresh marine breeze entered the room through the ajar French window, flapping the white muslin curtains like two small sails. It caressed his clammy naked body and a salty smell came to tickle his nose, reminding him a time when, as a kid, he used to go visit his grandparents in their small beach house in South Carolina, a time that was far gone but that he kept close to his heart. And so he sprawled on the mattress, a bit like a funny starfish, his blue eyes still shut, trying to linger in his memory and in his bed a little longer, at least until Hunnigan calls him to warn him not to be late to another umpteenth appointment with his DSO colleagues or the president. Only when he felt a delicate hand brush his hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear like his mother used to do when he was a child, and finally met a pair of gorgeous (colour) eyes did he realise two things. One, Hunnigan won’t call this morning. Two, holidays were awesome.

Part 1: THE MEETING

Scott Rossi. That was the name he had given when he had registered in this remote cottage-like hotel three days ago on the north coasts of Nova Scotia. Nothing original and probably too easy to guess – it was his father’s first name and his mother last name after all. A fake identity he had judged necessary to disappear from the DSO’s radar for a little while. He needed to be left alone. For his wellness and his sanity even though a part of him knew drinking his sorrow away wasn’t what was best for that so-called wellness he wanted back. But it was the only solution he had found to forget. Forget about New York. Forget about the car bombing in DC. Forget about that bullet he put in President Benford’s head. Forget about everything that had led him here, drinking in this bar. But the road to forgetting was hard and the escape too momentary. And the more whisky he poured in his glass to more he seemed to drown in his bottomless pit of pain and depression. “Tough day or you’re just not confident in your masculinity?” Usually, Leon would have ignored such a nosy question, the same way he would have ignored another over-curious judgy person, with characteristic stoicism. But there was something in that question, something in that voice - though he couldn’t pinpoint what - that made him look up from the amber liquid in his glass. Perhaps was it the strangeness of that question. Or perhaps was it that voice, confident and full of nerve, reminding Leon of old times, old friends, bold young agents and femme fatales. Or perhaps, was it simply because she was a woman and God knew how much Leon couldn’t ignore one, wasted or not. She was a (hair colour) with piercing (colour) eyes, wearing a long marine blue coat over a nice black dress. Elegant. Self-assured. Pretty. Very pretty … Actually too pretty to hang out in some lousy hotel bar like the one she was in right now. A city girl maybe. “Excuse me?” “The whisky. My father used to say it’s a drink for fags.” Leon’s eyes widened briefly and she added, unsettled by his surprise as if she had expected it. “But then again, my father was an asshole who didn’t know shit about anything. So tough day, huh?” Leon snickered and remained surprisingly troubled for a few second. Needless to say, he wasn’t used being caught off guard like that. “More like tough life” He finally corrected. She nodded and, unable to resist curiosity – even though she had the impression the man was certainly not the kind to easily open up to strangers - quickly went to sit closer to him bringing her tequila along with her. “I’m all ears.” “I don’t need a therapy.” His tone was curt and harsh and he took a sip of whisky looking away from her, thinking she would get the message and leave him to finish his fancy bottle of Glenfiddich in peace. But she did not move and simply waited, her observing eyes set on him as if she was trying to read his mind or something. He glanced towards her only to see her sigh and take off her coat like an insect would shed their skin, offering Leon the sight of her beautiful wasp-like body covered in black silk, a sight that didn’t leave him indifferent. After all, she had an exquisite silhouette. Curvy with a narrow waist that her skin-tight black dress could bring out with ease. “Let me guess, after fifteen years of marriage, your wife cheated on you with your best friend because you were the kind of man who lived for his job instead of his family and now he’s taking care of your kids in your own house and they call him daddy.” “Couldn’t be moooore wrong.” He had a quick laugh, not because he thought her soap opera-like story was amusing but because he actually never imagined someone would picture him married with kids. Did he look the type? He didn’t think so. “Maybe. But at least now I know you’re not married.” Leon glanced at her again, astonished by her audacity. No one had ever flirted with him that way. Though he wasn’t even sure she was flirting. “Are you sweet-talking me or something?” She shrugged her

shoulders leaving the place for any sort of answer and Leon said “You know, you could have just look at my hand.” “I did actually but I just wanted to make sure.” She had a quick seductive smile and smoothly bent towards Leon who peeped at her décolletage for a second before focusing on his drink again. “By the way, is shooting a hobby or part of your job?” Leon froze, his glass half way between the counter and his lips and stared at her. “How …” “The calluses on your fingertips. Only a shooter has that kind of hands.” He couldn’t help but be impressed and after drinking his whisky in one go, he naturally sat up straight on his stool to scrutinize her, suddenly more that interested in that mysterious girl. “You’re observant.” “Y/N actually.” She extended her hand and, after a short hesitation, he shook it with an amused smile, undeniably seduced by that cheeky attitude that suited her so well. Her skin was so soft and cold against his, he instinctively kept her hand in his to warm it up. A lovely gesture yet certainly a bit inappropriate. Either way, the girl said nothing and let him hold her hand. “I’m L… Scott. I’m Scott” He finally replied as he let go of her hand, slightly uncomfortable. “ Fine, then I’m Y/SN.” Leon frowned, his face showing a mix of confusion and amusement. “You just said your name was Y/N.” “Yeah but that was before you chose to lie.” She grimaced, emptied her shot of tequila and called the waiter with a small hand gesture to ask for a refill, not even slightly disappointed in Leon for lying. “I didn’t lie.” Not really. She put down her hand as she realised the barman, who was flirting with a man at the end of the counter, would not notice her. “Of course you did. But I’ll allow it. I guess that’s just another silly way to cope with your tough life for a night. Though, it seems it’s as useless as alcohol” She took Leon’s glass and emptied it without looking away from the agent. “I’m trying to enjoy my holidays at the fullest.” He confessed and that was the truth. “Is it working?” She placed the glass, now stained with her lipstick, in front of him and he shrugged, showing her the bottle of alcohol by his side before pouring himself another drink. “No, not really.” “Thought so.”

She took the whisky again, this time from Leon’s hand but he did not protest. He didn’t care about that damn liquor. He could definitely afford another bottle. The company however … He knew he would never find another girl like the one sitting next to him. “So, Y/N. What are you doing here?” He asked, his eyes fixed upon her face. “Who’s Y/N?” She replied with a cheeky wink and Leon smiled and chuckled. It hadn’t done that in a while. “Are we really gonna play this lie the whole night?” Part of him hoped so. There was something endearing and refreshing in that little game, the same way there was something terribly irresistible in that girl. “You wanna spend the whole night with me? Who told you I was that kind of girl?” She harrumphed, hand over her heart like an amazingly lame actress, an overly dramatic gesture that was certainly intended. “You’re impossible.” Leon confessed but there was no hint of criticism or annoyance, quite the opposite. He was actually having fun drinking here with that girl he didn’t know. “No. I’m just a girl pretending to be someone she’s not – aka Y/SN - talking to a man named Scott who just lost his wife and kids to his best friend.” “Not just his wife and kids, his dog too. A beagle. Poppy.” She laughed, getting the tiny nod to John Wick and he looked glad that she did. “And what’s Y/SN’s backstory?” “I found yours. You could at least found mine.” She retorted and let him think. And for a second, as she stared at him scratching his stubble, finding him insanely handsome, she realised he hadn’t touch his drink in a small while. Good. “Y/SN is a college student with unresolved daddy issues trying to get the attention of a man possibly twice her age to cope with the fear of abandonment his father left her with when he left her and her mom.” “Was Dad an alcoholic?” She declared on purpose, just to see if the word would trigger his desire to drink. It incredibly did not. “Might explain why you’re so interested in a loser like me.”

She stayed the whole night with him. Talking. Playing. Flirting in ways only she could do. Creating an undeniable connection, a sharp sexual tension that only a man deprived of all senses would have missed. She gave him a signal (if not more) with her eyes, called him with her lips. And he responded with a similar technique, a similar enthusiasm. And at the end of the night, when she got up from her stool and kissed him goodbye, right at the corner of his lips, she realised she could potentially spend the hottest night of her life if she chose to lead him in her room. After all, it was no secret for either of them. She wanted to fuck him and he wanted to fuck her. But a part of her decided to play hard to get, decided that this night would be a sweet game, a foreplay in their roleplay. And luckily for her, he was a player. Just like her.

#Leon Kennedy #leon s kennedy #fanfic #request #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader

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thecheesiestcheese · 4 years

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Hey everyone! I know I haven’t posted on here in forever, but I was going through some old notes of mine on my phone and came across this old piece of work that never found the light of day. Figured I’d let you all give it a read. I tried to fix any grammar mistakes, but there’s probably still a few. I also have a second chapter that’s pretty much done as well, just sitting there collecting dust. Hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you all think!

Bella Bonding Survival 101

This was not going to end well.

Beca just knew it.

Every time the Bellas do team bonding, something always goes wrong. For example, during their first year together, the girls decided to have their first official bonding session at the city park close to Barden.

Chloe and Aubrey were setting up everything they brought for a picnic later on, while Jessica and Ashley found a place beside a tree, cuddling with a book in each of their hands. Beca could be found sitting down with her back against a tree, headphones on and eyes closed, not having anything to do, since she wasn’t allowed to bring her laptop along, due to a certain redhead’s insistence of needing to enjoy nature and maybe Aubrey’s threat of ‘pitch’ing the laptop far, far away. Amy, Stacie, and Cynthia Rose were down a little ways walking along the side of the city pond, Amy seeming to take an interest in mocking the geese nearby. Lilly was nowhere to be seen, although Beca swore she saw her in a tree earlier shooting acorns at squirrels.

A few minutes go by when Beca feels a presence beside her. After quickly debating whether or not to acknowledge who was there, the brunette decides to open her eyes just in case its the she-demon herself there to take away her music as well. Luckily enough, she is greeted by a smiling Chloe looking down at her. Not even needing to know what the redhead was wanting, Beca pats the ground beside her offering an invitation. Chloe’s smile grows even wider, making her nose crinkle and plops down beside the small brunette immediately grabbing one of Beca’s earphones for herself. Being use to Chloe and her rule for no boundaries, Beca let’s her. As they sit there, the small brunette starts to zone out only to practically jump into the air due to a loud scream, followed by shouting.

Gathering her bearings, Beca looks down to the pond to see something out of a circus and couldn’t help but to laugh. It seemed that the geese that Amy was mocking had finally had enough and was chasing the trio around the pond.

Stacie could be seen throwing one of her shoes, completely missing the target while Cynthia Rose and Amy made their way around the pond, all the while Amy could be heard shouting, “Vertical running! I’m vertical running!”

The rest of the girls laughed as they watched the chaos happen in front of them. They all stopped though, when they noticed the three Bellas heading their way with the geese right behind them.

Eyes widening, Beca scrambles to her feet, helping Chloe up, joining the rest of the Bellas and making a run for it.

That day ended with them soaking wet and smelling like wet dog.

Another time for team bonding was when the Bellas were preparing for the World Championships.

Granted, it was technically Beca’s own fault for not paying attention to where she was going. In her defense, she was too heated to take in her surroundings.

That day ended with Beca in a bear trap.

Don’t get her wrong, team bonding is fun and she loves the Bellas, but Beca is starting to see a pattern and she’s growing weary of it.

That’s why when the idea of skydiving as a team bonding exercise was introduced by none other than Aubrey, Beca immediately shot it down.

“No. Absolutely not,” the small brunette shakes her head, not wanting to hear another word.

“Aww, but Beca, imagine the bonding time we could have,” Chloe pouts throwing her best puppy-dog eyes at the brunette. “Most of us haven’t seen each other in months and I think this would be a perfect way to catch up, especially while on tour!” The redhead exclaims while also taking Beca’s hand in her own, squeezing it.

Looking between Chloe and the rest of the girls, she’s met with pouts from all sides. “Fine.” She mutters. She’s quickly engulfed in a hug by Chloe making her blush then someone in the distance yells ‘Group hug!’ making all the Bellas rush in, crushing Beca further into her best friend.

Once the hugging fest was over, the girls decided to grab dinner at a small French Bistro they saw a few days ago while they were out shopping, getting a break from the USO tour. They all get back to their hotel in one piece, the girls splitting up.

Amy, Emily, and Flo head over to the bar, Amy already calling for shots all around. Jessica and Ashley head over to claim a table big enough for the gang. Lilly and Cynthia Rose started a game of pool, Lilly looking like she won the jackpot. And Chloe disappears once she sees Chicago, saying that he could get them free access to skydiving. Beca frowns slightly as she watches Chloe run into Chicago’s arms. An arm is draped around her shoulder pulling her focus away from the scene playing out in front of her.

“Keep frowning and your face will be stuck like that,” Stacie smirks.

Shrugging the taller brunette’s arm off her shoulder, Beca glares, crossing her arms. “Thanks,” she deadpans her face still impassive.

“I think it’s been permanent since freshman year,” Aubrey remarks making her way over and hands over a drink to each of the brunettes.

“Do I even want to know what’s in this?” the small brunette asks cringing catching a strong whiff of alcohol.

The tall blonde just smirks. “You looked like you needed it.”

Beca rolls her eyes. “Shouldn’t you guys be over at the bar or something?” motioning her hand towards the bar where Amy was giving Emily shot after shot of god knows what. She should probably stop them, but Stacie grabs her arm and starts pulling her over to Jessica and Ashley, Aubrey following closely behind.

“You need to relax. Let loose a little of that pent up frustration.” Stacie’s voice is muffled while drinking whatever concoction Aubrey gave her. Setting her glass down, a sly smile appears on the leggy brunette’s face, her eyes glinting with something Beca couldn’t quite figure out, but had a feeling it wasn’t going to be anything good. “Maybe we need to find you a tall blonde, I’m sure we could find someone here.”

“Dude! No!”

“I’m not sleeping with Beca!”

The loud commotion could be heard throughout the whole bar, catching the attention of many onlookers, including the girls at the bar. Emily could be seen spitting mid drink, eyes wide, Flo patting her back as she makes some comment related to Guatemala.

Amy quickly makes her way over. “Aww yeah, Shawshank! If I hear moaning of ‘auu-beca’ tonight,” pointedly looking at the tall blonde, “I’ll be taking twenty dollars to go out. I don’t know how you could pass up a good bloe though.” She comments while setting down a tray of shots that the girls were going to down, sooner rather than later.

Both of the girls groan, Beca’s face growing red, Aubrey’s showing disgust. “I would have to be completely inebriated before I even thought about sleeping with the hobbit.” Aubrey takes a long drink grimacing as the alcohol burned down her throat.

Beca raised her hand in the air, her head facedown on the table. “Likewise.”

Stacie rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t implying that you two should get together.” Groans could be heard. “But now that you mention it, I’m thinking I should have.” The tall brunette smirks. “Don’t worry Aubs, I know you’re more interested in taller brunettes.” She winks making Aubrey blush.

“Wait, what are y-?” Amy gets cut off.

“Nothing! She’s implying nothing.” The blonde stresses looking anywhere, but the Bellas.

Actually feeling bad for Aubrey, which never in a million years did she think she would ever feel anything other than anger towards the former Bellas captain until they spent time together outside of a cappella learning that they actually had more in common then they thought, Beca drags the focus back on her.

“So,” she clears her throat, “If not Aubrey, then who were you suggesting?” The shorter brunette shifts nervously in her seat averting her eyes every time she made contact with Stacie, having an inkling that she already knew who she was referring to. Stacie was grinning like the cat who caught the canary.

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me...”she drags the wait out knowing she was making the brunette squirm, “..little maus.”

Beca covers her face with her hands too embarrassed to look at the girls. “Don’t remind me.” Knowing they most likely won’t believe her, Beca still tries to convince them. “She was just intimidating. She’s freakishly tall and we all know I’m small.” She shrugs looking indifferent when really inside she was anything but that.

“Alright shortie, you keep saying that, but we really know what you mean.” Amy winks. Beca just groans. She’s definitely not getting out of this one.

“Now wait you guys!” Emily blurts out. “I mean she was intimidating. Who wouldn’t be!” She exclaims loudly waving her hands around in the air. “I mean, she did call Beca a troll,” she drawls, “but tiny maus is a term of endearment soo...” Emily trails off. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing.” She slightly shrugs giving Beca a look of apology.

“Just face it Beca, you were interested in Kommissar, I’m pretty sure we all were.” Stacie claims, the other Bellas nodding along even Amy. “I don’t blame you. Besides, I think the German goddess was interested right back. In fact, I’m kind of surprised she didn’t try anything now that I think about it,” Stacie mentions, a curious look upon her face.

Someone coughs. “Oh, I know exactly why she didn’t.” The girls all face Cynthia Rose who looks like she knew one of the top secrets in the world.

Even Beca becomes curious as she gets closer to the edge of her seat. “Well?” Beca starts to grow impatient.

Cynthia Rose locks eyes with the tiny brunette. “Let’s just say a fiery fox seemed to have their claws in someone, not letting them out of their sight.” Smirking, she continues. “If that wasn’t the case, Kommissar would’ve ate you up...if you know what I mean.” C.R. winks.

At that moment Chloe seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Hey guys!” She beams. “So Chicago said we could do tomorrow afternoon if that worked for everybody.” Chloe is only met with silence. “What’s up?”

She looks around the group, eyes finally landing on Beca who seemed to be showing all signs of embarrassment. “Uh, what’s going on? What’d you guys do to our poor little DJ?” She coos taking the empty seat by Beca. The redhead wraps the brunette in her arms in a hug. “What’s got you all embarrassed?” She asks sneaking a quick sip of the brunette’s drink.

Beca remains silent.

“Oh, Shawshank has just realized that Kommissar was interested in her. She would’ve ate her up, if you know what I mean.” Amy says repeating the last part that C.R. said.

Beca could feel Chloe’s arms around her tighten.

“What?!What do you mean?” The redhead demands, eyes narrowed with a hint of agitation in her voice. “That dummkopf is the enemy! She just wanted to get into your head.” Chloe fumes.

Beca refuses to make eye contact. She could feel Chloe’s stare burning a hole in the side of her head.

“Well, it worked,” Beca mutters.

“You’ve got that right little shortie!” Amy and Stacie hi-five.

“She had you all kinds of flustered.” Stacie fans her face jokingly. “But who can blame you? It’s hard to resist tall intimidating blondes. Stacie comments winking at Aubrey.

Aubrey rolls her eyes. “Can we just move on from this conversation?”

Chloe immediately jumps in. “Yes! I think we need to forget about the past and talk about the present.” The redhead nods her head seeming to need to reassure herself. Beca finally looks up, making eye contact with Chloe beside her. Chloe sends her a smile, her face still holding a slight look of irritation. Beca sends a small smile back receiving a tiny squeeze from Chloe’s hand. They’re both interrupted from their staring contest by the girls laughing.

“Damn Em! I never thought I’d hear you say that!” Cynthia Rose laughs clapping the younger brunette’s back.

“Oh look, Bloe has decided to grace us with their presence again,” Amy announces. The rest of the Bellas were still laughing at whatever Emily said. “Hey, aca-child, wanna tell our two captains what you said?” Amy nudges Emily with her arm. Emily’s face turns bright red, but what she says next she can’t stop. Later, she’d tell them that it was because of the alcohol.

It’d already be too late.

“If we can’t find a tall blonde, other than Aubrey.” The blonde sends her a grateful look. “Then I think we could find a tall brunette who maybe or maybe not also has an interest in music and is here. As in the hotel....right now...Over at the bar.” Emily points her finger, the others follow with their eyes.

“O-M-ACA-G! Emily! She’s just as bad as that blonde giant!” Chloe shouts standing up and grabbing the attention of the Bellas and even the group of girls at the bar. Beca shrinks down into her chair, gulping down what was left of her drink.

“Hey Red!” Amy holds her hands up in slight fear, “Take it easy! We’re just stating the obvious.” The blonde looks over at Beca. “I mean, you did say that she smelt like vanilla and complimented her outfit, right?” The rest of the Bellas hold their breath, torn between what Beca’s reaction would be, but also fearing for her life or Amy’s.

“What the hell Beca?!” could be heard throughout the room.

Beca just groans.

She’s actually starting to wish that she was skydiving right now.

Instead she sinks further into her seat, face burning.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

#bechloe #chloe beale #beca mitchell #pitch perfect #bechloe fanfic

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frustratedpker · 4 years

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“First day” [PKNA fic]

My first official fic, Camera 9 centered of course!

I told you I‘d do it! And I did it! Thank you wonderful humans for encouraging me to write this (you know who you are ♥)!

I ‘ll soon post it on AO3 once my account is set up! It’s my first time writing in english so please have mercy.

Summary: Camera 9′s first day at Chanel 00 from Stefan’s POV / Rating: Approved for all audiences / Words: 1829

His first day hadn't been bad so far.

Well, it hadn't been great either.

He had done some takes, visited a few locations, done a few scoops, nothing extreme, nothing he wasn't already used to. Also, he really liked -although he felt a little bit guilty for it- his new gear. It was the latest technology with really interesting functions. Still, nothing like his good ol' reliable camera, but since the Chanel provided it for free... Plus, this time he didn't have to carry the camera around. At least not with his hands.

Some colleagues had tried to talk to him earlier, probably curious about this quiet, new recruit but their friendliness and willingness to keep the conversation going had eventually faded mostly due to Stefan's laconic answers.

But what was he going to tell them?

That he had some canned beans for breakfast and a whole life to keep secret? That, after his shift ended, he would go back to an almost empty apartment?

Anyway, it didn't matter anymore. It was lunch break and everyone was too busy unwrapping sandwiches and catching up to the day's gossips. Stefan looked around. The Chanel 00 office room was buzzing with chatting reporters, stressed archivist and complaining technicians, all gathered in small groups around their desks. Many were leaving the room in twos and threes to go grab a coffee from the nearby shops.

Stefan had thought of going too, but quickly dismissed the idea. After all, he had already ate his lunch an hour ago when he took his break. The deserted and quiet alley in the side of the building had been more to his liking than any cramped main street coffee shop. At least he wasn't required to talk to the stray cats there. Or take off his gear.

Going back to the cameramen room wasn't an option either. They would all be gathered there, talking loudly and telling bad jokes, sharing the mishaps of the day. No doubt they'd notice him and start asking questions. Questions Stefan wouldn't be able to -or even want to- answer at this particular moment. Or any moment to be precise.

“I'm Stefan, I just moved here after I got this job, I'm from Northern Calisota”. Stefan had well rehearsed this speech the night before but the will to actually use it had significantly decreased from the moment he went to bed - if his plain mattress could be called a bed. He now found this absolute anonymity as a great comfort, standing silently next to the wall of the crowded room. A lot of time had passed since he had been absolutely unknown. He was actually grateful that no one had asked. That he, hadn't given them any chances to do so. Unprompted friendliness wasn't something that he could deal with at this moment.

He, himself, had still so many loose ends to tie. It was only a week after all since he had arrived at Duckburg, found his apartment and this job. He was sure that he would get used to this new life sooner or later. But not just yet.

Ideally, he would have waited a month or so to settle down before finding any job. Just give himself enough time to discover the area, make his apartment look a bit more like a home, finally put his thoughts in order. Oh, so much had happened. But the bill wasn't going to pay itself and he had enough of canned beans. In addition, if he wanted to start over, he would have to move on. Even if it meant forcing himself to go out there.

That's how he, a stateless ex-photographer, found himself in an urgent need of a job when the Chanel 00 found itself in an urgent need of cameramen.

And it also happened that Stefan was more than just qualified for the job.

So, there he was! Monday morning, in the Chanel 00's crowded office room, also qualifying as a wall decoration after all this time he had been standing there.

Dan, the Chanel's director had asked him to wait for a moment before he assigned him his next task. He had vanished in the long corridor since and ten minutes had already passed.

So, Stefan could do nothing but awkwardly wait as reporters and errand boys would come and go. He had gotten some side glances and curious looks but no one had approached him. It didn't surprise him as he was the only cameraman in the room and also still wearing his gear.

That was another reason he liked it. He felt quite at ease with his face hidden by his helmet. Sure, he heard the other cameramen complain about headaches all the time but that wasn't his case. At this particular moment where he felt like a fish out of water, this physical barrier between him and the world was oddly comforting. Like a safe space where his thoughts could roam free. Plus, the dark glasses gave him the chance to observe without being seen, a fact that he found highly amusing. He wondered how many of his colleagues knew that the brunette reporter -Helen wasn't it?- was secretly dating Ross from the tech department or that the tall anchorman was stealing others' pens when they weren't looking. Oh boy! And that was only his first day! Stefan smiled.

But where was Dan? It must have been fifteen minutes since he had left. Of course, he was the director. Anything could have come up, anything was more important than an insignificant cameraman in his first day. He nervously looked around. Should he wait some more? Should he go? But what if he went away and then Dan couldn't find him? Should he go find his boss, was that appropriate? Should he go and wait somewhere else? Oh God, not in the cameramen room! Would the other reporters think of him as an idiot, waiting without moving a finger for this long? Stefan sighed and tried to ignore that he was getting more anxious by the minute.

Thankfully, Dan appeared in the end of the corridor. Stefan relaxed as he saw the director coming towards him holding a bunch of papers which he presumed were the details of the next scoop. He was ready to make a step forwards when a voice interrupted him.

“Oh, Dan! There you are”

A tall, blonde woman appeared out of nowhere and approached the director with a quick step. She was holding some record papers which at once got Dan to examine under her worried gaze.

Stefan hadn't seen her before. She was wearing a white shirt and a pink blazer with matching pants. Her long hair was styled in a messy bun. An anchorwoman? That was possible. Stefan noticed the pens arranged in her shirt's pocket and the handwritten notes visible in the papers she was holding. A journalist? That was more likely. But why was she still working during lunch break?

The woman's gaze shifted from Dan to Stefan.

“Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt!”, she apologized with a nervous smile.

“It's fine”, Stefan said, realizing that this was the first time he had spoken in hours. Whatever these two were doing must surely be more important anyway.

The woman had left Dan to read the notes by himself and was now looking straight at him with a curious air. Stefan did his best to hide how awkward he felt while her gaze was examining him, head to toes. As if she was scanning him. She didn't look intimidating though, perhaps even sweet.

“Are you new here?”, she asked with a smile.

“Yes”, was all that Stefan could mutter.

There came the questions! He wished Dan could read fast enough so he could get his next scoop assigned and just go.

“Well then, welcome to Chanel 00! Perhaps we 'll get to work together sometime, I'm a reporter”.

She balanced her papers under her arm and extended her hand.

“I'm Lyla Lay”

Stefan reluctantly shook it.

And now to the dreaded part! It was time to introduce himself, he couldn't avoid it anymore. Somehow the speech he had rehearsed seemed so stupid now. Would she be okay with just a first name? She had given her last name so he probably ought to give his too. She had been really polite after all. But wouldn't she recognize him? As if anyone would remember him... Why was this making him so nervous?

Dan, who had meanwhile finished skimming through the notes, interpreted the silence and decided to spare his colleague from the new weirdo's shenanigans.

“Well Lyla, that's our new cameraman St-”

“Camera 9!”, interrupted Stefan firmly.

Yes, it finally clicked. That sounded so much better. He had started to like this number. Although a little bit taken aback, Lyla nodded politely.

“Nice to meet you then Camera 9! I look forward to working with you!”, she said as sweetly as she could and then turned to Dan to take back her papers, “are we alright with this?”.

Dan nodded. Lyla shuffled her papers, greeted them and disappeared as quickly as she had come, leaving them alone. Stefan looked at her direction for a bit, listening to her footsteps fade away. This one seemed a little better than the others working in the Chanel. Maybe a little too friendly but still professional and polite. It wasn't out of gossip that she had spoken to him. At least she had noticed him...

“Are you even listening Camera 9?”, Dan violently brought him back to reality by snapping his fingers in front of him. How he hated when people did that...

Dan gave him the details and left him alone in the now empty office room. Stefan took out his helmet. His coworkers were right, it does get heavy after a while. He would have to get used to it. One more scoop and he would be able to go home.

Now, whom was he assigned with? The reporters he had met so far weren't necessarily bad, just... indifferent to work with. The only good thing about them was that they were snob enough to leave him alone. Maybe he had been assigned with this Lay woman. He had already met her so he wouldn't have to worry about it. Still, she had seemed rather chatty and Stefan wasn't sure if he had enough energy for this right now.

Stefan's eyes reached the bottom of the page. Ah yes, there was the name. He hadn't met this reporter yet, although -even in those brief hours- he had heard his name being yelled across the corridors. He folded the paper, placed it in his front pocket and put his helmet back on. One more scoop... One more scoop and he could go back to his apartment to enjoy some canned beans in the quiet of his empty living room.

After all, how bad could this Angus guy be?

#I wanted so much to share this #my fic #fic #pkna #Camera 9 #stefan vladuck

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years

Text

Give It a Try

Mark Tuan X Male Reader

Word Count: 3.2K

Genre: Fluffy with a tiny bit of angst

Summary: You and Mark have been tip toeing around each other’s feelings for the last few months but that’s because you’re afraid to give him your all. However, after coming to the conclusion that he genuinely cares for you and wants to take things further between the two of you, you no longer see the point in preventing things to blossom in to something beautiful.

A/N: This was requested by @xavi-in-kpopland this is actually my first time writing a male x male story so I hope you enjoy it! I’m sorry if it doesn’t reach your expectations :( but thank you again for requesting! (Based on the song Fire by the Pointer Sisters)

I'm ridin' in your car You turn on the radio You're pullin' me close I just say no I say I don't like it But you know I'm a liar 'Cause when we kiss, ooh FireLate at night You're takin' me home You say you want to stay I say I want to be alone I say I don't love you But you know I'm a liar 'Cause when we kiss, ooh Fire

“I can feel you looking at me. You’re not exactly discreet about it Mark. Stop that. You’re supposed to keep your eyes on the road. If we die tonight because you can’t keep your eyes off of me, I’ll kill you.” His adorable high pitch laughter that you loved yet hated so much because of the effect it had on you echoed throughout his car and overpowered the playlist of songs he claimed reminded him of you.

The two of you had just finished watching the new Keanu Reeves movie that recently came out and Mark’s been begging you to go and see it with him as soon as he saw the movie poster posted up at the mall. At first, you rejected him just to play around with him but deep down you knew you were going to give in to him. You’d do anything for the beautiful boy behind the wheel; he meant a lot to you. More than you wanted to admit out loud to him and even to yourself.

You enjoyed playing hard to get; something about knowing that the most admired and desired guy on campus having eyes for nobody else but you sent fire to your bones. You knew you had Mark hooked, but you wanted to make sure he was in it for the long run and that his intentions were pure. The last thing you needed was for the most popular guy in school to dump you like you were nothing and leave you in the dust, making you look like the biggest loser at your university.

To your dismay, the more time you spent with him, the faster you began losing your resolve; but it was inevitable. You and Mark have been fooling around with one another for almost four months now. There was a little voice in the back of your head telling you that he would’ve left a long time ago if he didn’t have at least some kind of romantic feelings for you and you were well aware that Mark was where you kept your heart. It took you a while to accept your feelings for him, but you loved Mark.

Although some people may consider it too early to really know how far your feelings went for him, when it’s love you just know. There was a warm feeling in your chest every time you’d spend time with him and once he would drop you back to your apartment, you were left feeling empty and counted down the hours until you got to see him again. You wanted to wait it out a little bit more to see that he was worth risking your heart for. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him. No; in the last four months, he’s shown you nothing but kindness, support, patience and generosity.

He helped you learn to love who you were and to embrace your sexuality. It’s just that you’ve been hurt a few times in the past by assholes who thought it would be funny to pretend that they too were interested in guys knowing that you were one of the only people who genuinely did not care if everyone knew your gender preference when it came to your significant other. Knowing who he was and who his friends were, you were afraid to let Mark in your life the day he approached you in your religion class asking you for help.

All the girls in your class were extremely obvious about their attraction for him and you couldn’t blame them; he was indescribably good looking and quite the charmer. But from what you heard through the grapevine, Mark had no interest in girls. There were days where you found yourself daydreaming about what it would be like getting to date him, hold hands with him, go on cute little dates with him and to kiss those plump lips of his; but that’s all you had thought would happen.

If someone were to tell you months ago that you’d be in a complicated relationship with Mark, you’d laugh in their face. You didn’t know when your tutoring sessions turned in to meeting up with him to get food at two in the morning, or cuddling with him while he played video games over at your apartment, but it was in those moments where you’d find yourself questioning the status of your relationship with the older boy. The two of you were more than friends but less than lovers and you knew it was because you weren’t ready to take things further just yet.

If you were to put a title on what you and Mark were, you had a feeling things would only go downhill from there and you didn’t want to lose him before you could really enjoy being with him. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him hesitantly moving his hand towards your lap; something he always did whenever you’d go on drives together. Most of the time, you’d swat his hand away even if you wanted nothing more than to intertwine your hands together. There were days where you allowed him to hold your hand or to even pull you in to his embrace, but for the most part you would always push him away the second you felt his touch.

Whenever you’d see him flush in embarrassment from the rejection, you felt a pain in your chest and you hated being so rash towards him. Especially because he treated you as if you were the most delicate flower. Sooner or later, you were going to have to give in to him before he finally gave up on this frustrating game of car and mouse. You had a huge feeling he was probably getting tired of how cold you would act towards him but not once did he complain or force you to do something you didn’t want to which was what you admired about him the most.

Unfortunately, for the last few days your mind has been all over the place. You couldn’t help but overthink that the longer you kept pushing Mark away and prevented things from blossoming between the two of you, that he would soon grow tired and find someone who was willing to treat him the way he deserved. Mark could get anybody he wanted; this you knew was true and you didn’t know why he settled for someone like you, but you weren’t going to continue to push him away. Tonight, you planned on allowing whatever it was going between you and Mark; a fling of some sorts turn in to whatever it is that he wanted for the two of you.

Since he didn’t seem like he was going to initiate anything, you reached over the console and pulled his hand on to your lap before intertwining your fingers together. Seeing his breath hit at your sudden movement made you smile softly to yourself. Was this man really going to be twenty-seven years old in a couple of months? Sometimes you’d forget how old Mark really was because of how childlike he’d act around you.

“Are you—is everything okay?” His question caused you to look at him in curiosity.

“I’m fine. Oh—are you not okay with this?” As you were about to pull your hand away, he tugged on it all but gently and brought yours hands up to his lips before placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. Your heart rate began increasing as soon as you felt his lips on your skin; in the few moments that he’d kiss you, whether they were chaste kisses against your cheek or passionate, steamy make out sessions, any moment spent with his lips on any one of your body parts sent your body in flames.

“No no—I’m okay with this—more than okay. Trust me. I just—I’m not used to you initiating things like this. You’re always so quick to push me away, so it’s taking a little longer for me to get used to your clingy side—ow! When did you become so strong? Just wait till we park y/n, you’re going to regret that.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and squeezed his hands as you turned your attention back to the road. “Ooooh, I’m so scared.” His little giggle at your sarcasm made you blush. God, this man was going to be the death of you.

“Hey y/n do you—would it be okay if—ah, never mind.” When it was just the two of you, Mark would always be so shy and soft spoken sometimes. It wasn’t something you were used to, even after months of getting to know the real him. The Mark that nobody else got to see. To the world; his friends, your professors and fellow classmates, Mark was an extremely outgoing, talkative and an all-around guy. He had this aura about him; a kind of confidence that made people gravitate toward him.

He portrayed himself to be such a dominant and superior individual but when it was just the two of you, he could turn in to the biggest ball of fluff. Although he didn’t say it, he never had to. It was obvious that Mark was whipped for you, and you were hoping by the end of tonight you’d prove to him that you felt the same exact way.

“What is it?” Once he got to a stoplight, he turned and looked at you with an unidentifiable look on his face before shrugging indifferently. “Is it alright if I come over tonight? I kinda don’t want to let you go just yet.” You could tell it took him a lot of courage to ask you something he knew you’d probably say no to. Hearing that he wanted to spend more time with you sent warmth to your cheeks. How could you say no to him knowing that he wanted to stay with you just a little while longer? Especially because you had an idea of what was going to happen as soon as you both reached your place. “Hmm, I don’t know. I’m actually kinda tired. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Oh—uh—yeah, sure. That’s fine.” His nose sullen demeanor pulled at your heartstrings and you found yourself reaching over to humorously pinch his cheek.

“I’m fucking with you Mark. Of course you can come over. You can even stay the night if you’re too tired to drive home. I washed your clothes from the last few times.” He nodded in agreement and the small grin that was slowly growing on his face from the change in your tone caused you to mirror his expression. Just a couple of minutes later, he was pulling up to your apartment and ran over to your side to open the door for you. It was his actions that proved to you that he harbored romantic feelings for you and it always made you feel almost childlike.

You couldn’t explain the way Mark made you feel. But all you knew, was that nobody else has ever made you feel so important, so needed; wanted—loved and it scared you because you were sure nobody ever could. He helped you out of the passenger seat and grabbed at your hand; not giving you any time to process anything before pulling you towards the lobby.

Out of all the skin ship the two of you shared, holding hands with Mark had to be your favorite. He had such pretty fingers; they were so long and skinny and his hand practically swallowed your tiny ones whole. You always felt so safe with him and you could feel the confession of love for him at the tip of your tongue. When he saw you walking towards the elevators, he let out a snicker and you rolled your eyes; you knew exactly what he was laughing at from past experiences and you weren’t having it.

“What now Tuan?”

“Nothing—it’s nothing—you live on the second floor yet you always take the elevator. You are the definition of lazy—what the hell do you do in your free time? Bench press your television? Your biceps are getting bigger and your punches are harder—okay I’ll stop. I just thought it was cute but fine—be an asshole.”

The bickering stopped right as you reached your apartment and you made your way in with Mark trailing right behind you. He’s been over to your place a few times, so he knew where everything was and he even had a few of his things scattered throughout your apartment. A couple of his jackets were in your closet, he had a pair of shoes on the shoe rack and there was his shampoo and body wash in your shower. You knew he wouldn’t leave all his things over at your place if you were just someone he was messing around with.

“Thirsty?” He shook his head in disagreement before throwing himself on your couch and turning on the television. You on the other hand wanted to give yourself some time to prepare what you were going to tell him.

Mark, I love you. You mean a lot to me. I’m sorry for giving you such a hard time these last few months but thank you for not giving up on me—us these last few months. I’m ready now. I’m yours if you’ll have me.

You wanted to say it all, but you felt as if you were going to throw up just thinking about it. “Hurry up over there, I’m lonely.” You took in a deep breath before making your way back in to the living room.

It was now or never y/n, whatever happens, happens.

If he didn’t end up feeling the same way, then you could just kick him out and pretend as if none of this happened but deep down you knew there was no way you could ever forget this; forget him. There was no way. Mark was tattooed on your heart and etched in to parts of your soul that you were so scared of what would happen to you if he were to end your relationship. You took a seat at the end of the couch, giving yourself some space away from him but he wasn’t having it. He got up from his spot on the couch to reach out for you and pulled you on top of his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist as he placed his chin on top of your shoulder.

No matter how many times you’d find yourself in this position with him, you could never stop the blush that always seemed to grow on your cheeks at the close proximity.

“Mark.” He hummed in curiosity against your neck and waited for your response before saying anything. “Can I ask you something?” The nod against your cheek made you giggle; his stubble tickled as it rubbed against your recently shaved skin.

“What are we? Better yet, what am I to you. Like—what do I mean to you?” Feeling him pull away as soon as those words fell from your lips worried you. You knew it was too good to be true. There was no way Mark could ever look at you in the way that he wanted to. Tears were brimming at your eyelids and you were so upset with yourself from ruining things. Right as you were about to try and take back what you had just asked, you were being thrown on to the couch as he roughly brought his lips to yours. He brought his hands up to your face and cupped both of your cheeks; his mouth felt hot on yours as he molded your lips together perfectly.

His kisses never failed to send your body to flames and it felt as if electricity was running through your veins. Mark deepens the kiss; his lips were chapped but tasted like fried chicken and beer; a combination you were used to seeing how that was his favorite food and alcoholic beverage pairing. He licked and sucked on both your top and bottom lips before he brought your tongue in between his teeth. To your dismay, he pulled away to catch his breath and placed his forehead against yours while plopping himself on top of you.

“Mark, get off of me! You’re so heavy you ass—“

“You’ve never complained about being a bottom before—will you stop hitting me? Why aren’t you this physical in bed? Anyways, before you ruin the mood with your brash commentary, if it wasn’t already obvious, I have feelings for you and to sum it all up, I love you. I know why you’re afraid of love and I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, but you can trust me. I hope you know that and I hope you do or at least plan on learning how to. My feelings for you are sincere. I don’t know exactly when my little crush on you turned in to this beautiful thing called love, but I love the effect it has on me. I love the effect you have on me. You mean so much to me y/n and if you give me the chance, I’d love to be yours. I’ll take good care of you. I promise.”

He brought his pinky out to yours and you looked up at him to make sure his expressions matched his words. You stole a kiss from the corner of his mouth and twisted your pinkies together.

“Okay. Let’s do this.” You tried to push him off of you but he gave you a knowing look and made it even harder for you to try and escape.

“Mark—“

“You didn’t tell me how you feel yet. You’re not going anywhere baby. I know you love me too, you just have to say it.” Hearing the term of endearment was going to take some getting used to, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like how it sounded coming from his pretty lips.

“Wow, cocky aren’t we? Bold of you to assume that I love you. Where’d you get that idea?”

“I don’t know if you are aware of this, but when you doze off sometimes you murmur things. Maybe it’s your conscience but I swear I heard you confessing what I’m assuming is your feelings for me, how thankful you are for me and how you’d love to be mine—“ you covered his mouth to prevent anything else from coming out and hid your face in the crook of his neck to prevent him from seeing how crazy he was driving you.

“Whatever! I love you! There? You happy? Oh, and I just—before I say anything this is going to be the only time I’m ever going to say sappy shit so listen closely. Thank you for not giving up on us. Thank you for being so patient with me and not running away no matter how much of a dick I was. You mean the world to me Mark and I really don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I hope that getting to love you every day is enough to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me in the last few months. You’re amazing, and I love you.” He grinned down at you and you could feel butterflies growing in your tummy the longer he looked at you with so much love and adoration.

“I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that. Now kiss me.”

You had a hold on me right from the start A grip so tight I couldn't tear it apart My nerves all jumpin', actin' like a fool Well, your kisses they burn, but my heart stays cool

Well, Romeo and Juliet Samson and Delilah Baby you can bet A love they couldn't deny My words say split But my words they lie 'Cause when we kiss, ooh Fire

Ooh fire Hot kisses like fire Burn me up with fire I like what you're doin' now, Fire Touchin' me with fire Touchin' me, burnin me with fire Take me home Fire Kisses like fire

#got7 imagines #got7 #mark tuan imagines #male x male reader #mark tuan fluff #mark tuan

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miss-ali-lawliet · 4 years

Note

Hello

For the ask game:

3. what do you think about Light? 10, 24 and 25, please.

Thank you for the asks and honestly great questions!! I have a feeling this most is going to be a bit long, so hopefully I can get my thoughts and everything out in a way that’s easy to keep up with!

Also spoiler warning for those who haven’t finished the series!

~~~

3. What do you think about Light?

I honestly have SO many mixed feelings about him, like it’s hard to just be like ‘oh i hate him’ or ‘oh I love him’ because it just isn’t that simple for me personally, which that itself is a great sign of a character since you have to think about that sort of thing with them. Right off the bat though, I’d like to say that I think Light as a character is phenomenal. He takes the character-type of what many would consider as the ‘perfect guy’ for the main character but twists it in a way that makes the reader/viewer question the protagonist their supposed to be rooting for.

I also think of Manga!Light and Anime!Light as different people to an extent, as in the manga you watch a seemingly ‘normal’ guy who has issues with the world deal with the sudden power that was thrown on him. I talked about it before in my last ask post, but the scene after Light killed his first person after testing out is a great way to express how he feels, and is one of the few times we really see Light show THAT much emotion. He shows regret and guilt, thinking himself as a murderer and you can tell how it affected him. Anime!Light you don’t get that, and instead he seemed to just take on the task of being Kira and god of the new world without much else thought. I definitely prefer M!Light in comparison to A!Light to say the least, so I’m going to focus a bit more on the M!Light side of things.

I personally found myself wanting to have hope for Light, even though I knew that he wasn’t going to get better but instead worse over time, and honestly it’s probably better story wise to keep him as the ‘bad guy’ who stays bad instead of trying to pull a redemption arc out of no where or something. I have a feeling I’m beginning to ramble, so I’m going to try to wrap this up.

I have a love-hate relationship with Light, because even though I don’t agree with his actions and the tactics he uses to get the ‘perfect world’ he wants, and I do find his thinking flawed and find him very arrogant the more power/ego Kira gains over the world as the story goes on. Yet I find him as a character in general just fascinating. I was definitely more on L’s side of things and found myself enjoying a majority of the scenes where people simple put Light in his place and treat him like a dude with a god complex rather than what he wants/expects. There’s just a lot of thoughts I have about him, but yeah it’s just a love-hate sort of thing for me when it comes to Light.

~~~

10. Do you ship any characters?

I usually find myself being a bit of a multishipper when it comes to most fandoms, it just depends on the source material and the characters obviously. I definitely can enjoy a lot of the ships when it comes to the fandom, but even if I don’t like a pairing I do my best to remain pretty respectful about it.

One thing to note is that I can’t really find myself shipping L with anyone in the series to be honest, like I can find myself enjoying his relationship dynamics of characters but with my own interpretations and DR stuff, It’s hard to view him with someone else romantically.

Some ships I like/don’t mind though (especially when it comes to au stuff as most of these in canon probably wouldn’t work out lol): Matt x Mello, Mikalight, Rem x Misa ig? (more like the concept is sweet i think even though in canon Misa treats her pretty badly and Rem said she doesn’t think of her that way), uhhh. My brain is pulling a blank right now but these are the main ones that come to mind.

Some platonic pairings I enjoy (as there are a lot more of these for me): Matt + Mello, Mello + Near, Matsuda + Misa, Honestly all the task force have really interesting dynamics with one another, L + Watari (obviously in a father/parent way, I just like seeing their interactions), Ryuk + Light, Ryuk + Misa, L + Matsuda’s relationship is honestly pretty funny to me and honestly L’s dynamics with the task force is also interesting as well.

I think that’s it when it comes to shipping stuff atm

~~~

24. Any headcanons you’d like to share?

Oh! I feel like I have a couple but at the moment my mind is pulling a blank for some reason. Some head canons that do come to mind though deal with my Death Note DRs in some way but they can also be interpreted with the actual series itself, so hopefully this is good enough! Usually I do better with a certain prompt of some sort though for future references though!

I’ve seen a post a bit ago about Matt and Mello being roommates of some sort at Wammy House and they find themselves in that roommate mentality still when they do room together, and honestly I agree so much with that.

When Mello leave the Wammy House I see him not contacting Matt or anyone from Wammy House as he turns his focus on his side of the Kira Case, even if apart of him misses them and what he grew up around. Yet he pushes through because he’s stubborn and wants to do whatever he can on his own with the Mafia without involving someone like Matt, probably for his safety. After the explosion though when he has no one on his side, I think that’s when he realizes there’s only one other person he can truly trust and rely on and that’s when he contacts Matt to help him on the case.

Not really a headcanon as the author himself mentioned that the rivalry between Mello and Near was one-sided and that Near actually liked Mello, I do see both boys sometimes wondering what it would have been like if they didn’t have that rivalry and became friends instead. I honestly see Mello thinking that more towards the end of the case and after the explosion, but at that point he’s probably thinking it’s too late to even pursue a friendship like that with him.

I like to think that at Wammy House, Matt didn’t really understand Mello’s rivalry with Near and at times questioned him about it at first but he was pretty supportive

He didn’t have anything against Near though and was pretty indifferent on the whole thing personally, but if it made Mello happy and helped him achieve a goal he had no reason to deny.

Matt in general in general is someone that gives the vibes of not caring about much, but if you’re close to him he is literally SO loyal?? Like if someone close to him has an issue, even if he might make a comment or remark, he is always there to back them up.

I like to think that over time Light actually enjoys Ryuk’s presence, kind of like a sense of some sort of comfort that he isn’t alone of some sort? Like at first he might have been annoyed and still gets annoyed whenever he acts annoying and distracts him from work, but also I think he doesn’t like hate his company. Probably would rather be around him than Misa unfortunately </3

I think that L and Chief Yagami had a pretty good friendship, or perhaps not friendship but i’m not sure what to call it atm. Like I think L respected him a lot and Soichiro was the same towards him, and I think at times if they decided not to talk about the Kira case it’s usually pretty good for the most part.

It’s not really a headcanon but Matsuda trying his best to get some positive attention for things he does in the case is funny and kinda sweet. Most of the time L probably ignores his antics and doesn’t really feed into it, but there’s like one or two times where he actually does

It’s probably very small, probably something along the lines of “Good job.” or something but Matsuda feels so happy that he even acknowledged him like that and didn’t call him stupid for once. Definitely was a good boost in his mood

I find the thought of Light and Ryuk playing video games early on when he first gets the notebook charming in an almost funny way. Like Light probably either was talked into it by the shinigami or was like ‘screw it, I have nothing else to do atm’ and Ryuk is just happy he can actually do something and not just watch him working

Light is definitely competitive in games though, like he’ll probably try to act like it wouldn’t matter but like most things with him, but it did lmao

I find the thought of the wammy kids doing things to mess with/annoy Roger so entertaining. Like I feel bad for him, but if I were asked to assist in the pranks or antics I probably would just for his reaction alone

Think that’s all for random misc head canons for now, if you want something more specific just send a request!

~~~

25. Ramble on about whatever you’d like

Thank you for this one! I usually feel a little guilty whenever I ramble on about things in general, but the fact that some people are interested in my thoughts on things is so sweet!

At the moment though I’m honestly not too sure what to ramble about as there’s a lot on my mind and it’s hard to pick one thing and honestly it can be a bit hard to go through all my thoughts at times.

But! One thing I will always stand behind that ya’ll have probably seen countless of times so far is that the Wammy Boys deserved better and I will always say it if necessary tbh. Speaking of wammy house though, that comes to mind is that I wish I could learn more about it at times, yet I also enjoy the mystery of it in a way. It’s something I’d be so down to learn more about, but if not I’d be pretty okay with that outcome. Plus just leaves things for fans to interpret in their own ways if they want, and that’s something I definitely enjoy when it comes to the fandom is how they take something vague and turn it into so much more.

Also speaking of the fandom I’m surprised yet so thankful/grateful for is that the death note fandom is still going on here. It was such a relief seeing that I wasn’t alone in my hyperfixions and thoughts, and seeing all the talent in the art, writing, etc, is just amazing and something I look forward to a lot in all honesty. I’m also just so thankful for the people that take time out of their day to look at my blog in general. You like, reblog, or follow me? I literally want to be your best friend and if I wasn’t so nervous about starting conversations with ya’ll I definitely would have messaged a couple of ya’ll a while ago. Until then I hope you just read this and see me on your blogs and hope my reactions and comments is enough until I get less nervous lmao.

One last thing before i close the blog off is that I love L with my full heart and I adore Matt and Mello so very much. My favorite lads <3

~~~

Alright that should be it for this post! If you stuck around, thank you!

Some future posts to expect: Matt, Mello, + a f!reader based on the dream I talked about before, some L angst, and possibly something with Light :)

Anyways have a great day/night and here’s a reminder to stay hydrated and eat something if you haven’t already <3

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jojo-reader-hell · 5 years

Text

Hello Bad Children it is I, Koro, with more 5am angst. Melone x Reader: The Outside

(Writing this was like waking up from a nightmare about my partner cheating and then being mad at him all day for something he did in a dream, and I chose this picture because I’m finna slap the shit out of Melone after this.)

Melone reasoned that his date wouldn’t mind if he was a couple minutes late.

Everything was perfectly set into place. The night was young, balmy, perfect for cuddling close to his special someone. The restaurant was close enough that he could see the flower shop where you worked very clearly from the window. At the table he’d reserved, he knew exactly which way to tilt the chair he sat in so that he could keep an eye on your form at all times, and intended to sneak glances at you throughout the night so he could gloat at the fact that his life was still perfect, and yours was as miserable as he hoped for. It wouldn’t hurt to keep his new flame waiting a little while. She might even be touched, he thought as he strolled boldly into the shop and heard the tinkling of the bell, if he walked in like a prince with a beautiful spray of your favorite flowers to give her. It had to be all of the ones that were your favorites, the same make of bouquet he’d ordered nearly every week to keep you happy. He had to make a statement. Otherwise how else would you know he was doing well?

You had been many things. Faithful. Honest. Receptive. It had only taken you a matter of days, maybe even hours, to accept that Melone was your one true love even though you didn’t know it at first. Months of careful planning and building of your love nest paid off, and it was quite painfully obvious that you enjoyed these passed few years being his kept woman, as he put it lightly. You were a good girl, so obedient, doing whatever he asked without question and even with a smile towards the end when he began losing interest. Unfortunately you were also stubborn, hence why Melone had let the punishment go on for too long.

Truth be told he thought he’d been rather generous that last day. He felt he had to, it was at least fair he treat you kindly in your last day captive in the home he bought for you. It made up for the languid looks up other women’s skirts, the audacity of ogling endless trains of rear ends, ankles and breasts, entering chat rooms to look at bare pictures and post them until one day someone replied back at him just as intensely as he commented. It was only fair he give you one days break from domestic duties. Usually you did the cooking and the cleaning, rising early before the sun came up to make your “husband” something to eat, but he’d decided to surprise you that morning. Let it be known in the records that Melone could cook quite the sumptuous feast for breakfast, and he made sure the omelette came out nice and fluffy, and that the pancakes stayed warm by keeping the syrup on the side, or that the bacon was crisp and the fruit without blemish. Even the orange juice was good, squeezed fresh with a hint of Prosecco, and the coffee was pour over, Melone taking great pains to get the coffee grounds just so that the flavor exploded in your mouth even with the addition of cream and sugar. You were quite surprised when he’d brought it all to you on a tray in bed that you didn’t even register the indifference he had, not bothering to feed you like he usually would and just letting you savor everything until you were full.

“Was it good?” He asked, your name a trill and a light note to begin on.

And then he smiled a saccharine toothy grin as you agreed, praising him and thanking him for spoiling you.

“Good. Because it’s the last meal you’re ever going to have in this house. I want you out before the sun sets.”

“Good evening! I’d like a bouquet please.”

The cashier smiled at him, asked what he liked and set to work filling the order. Melone was almost disappointed that he didn’t call you to the front to work on it yourself, but he didn’t let it show and only met the other man with a smile. This person was one of your coworkers, blissfully unaware that the man before him was the monster that had ripped you from your happy home and completely brainwashed you into making one with him, having only torn you away from it five months ago. It had been hilariously funny to Melone, seeing you trying to reintegrate into society like a helpless idiot. Your coworkers treated you like a simpleton, your paycheck merely a grudging kindness they didn’t have the courage to put an end to. He saw you by chance on the street after the third month of your break up, and you’d been more of a mess than the first night he held you captive. You were fearful of everything around you, comically wide eyed and avoided nearly every attempt at human interaction. Your hair was unkempt, your clothes wrinkled, dark circles under your eyes and you looked as though you hadn’t eaten properly since that last breakfast. Melone had to stifle the laughter in his throat, a sick sense of pleasure filling his tummy as he followed you just out of sight that day. You looked everywhere, wandering in circles around the streets before eventually finding your way into the flower shop where you worked before he met you. Sometimes he checked on you, content to see you miserable as ever working for less than minimum wage, but never once did he bother to see where you were living now.

Probably in a cardboard box in the alley for all I care... he’d thought with a wicked smile.

Those first three months after Melone had quite literally booted you out onto the street were bliss, everything was quiet around the house, he had endless evenings talking to his new flame and hearing her lilting voice comment hotly on all the things she’d do to him once she came abroad. She wasn’t even from Italy, just someone he met online before he broke up with you, telling him she knew how these things worked out and she’d give him time to admire her from afar until he was completely over it. Even though he kept insisting at the begging and whining for her affection, he waited patiently for the fateful phone call that came five months later: she was ready to come to him at last.

He scrambled at the last minute to get the house perfect, rearranging furniture, thankful that your things had long since been thrown out. Even the Junior you’d produced with his Stand had been eliminated a month prior to his date. It used to infuriate him, seeing it look at the frosted glass of the front door as though it was looking for traces of you still clawing desperately, screaming to be let in. God help him, the Junior even pined for you, wondering why Melone wouldn’t just let you come back to live with them and destroying things when he tried to insist that a new mommy would come to take your place. The Junior had thrown a fit before the computerized Baby Face had taken action, and your Junior’s death had been a sick sort of closure for the assassin.

“Don’t open that door.” Melone had told your Junior during the breakup, in more of a giddy coo than the anger he felt hearing you crying for him to please let you back inside.

“... Mommy is out there.” Your Junior had told him, as if he’d missed it. “She’s crying. She’s cold. Why can’t I let her in?”

The sneer he gave your Junior must have set the seeds of rebellion into growth, because he still remembered the look of frustration it gave him.

“She’s not your mommy, she’s what’s called a ‘problem’. And do you know what we do with problems?”

“... no?”

“We work through them. Chase her away, make her afraid to go near that goddamn door. I don’t want her setting foot in this neighborhood ever again.”

Melone was snapped out of his thoughts of the past as the cashier happily handed over the aforementioned bouquet, wishing him a good night and shocking the assassin with the abruptness. He found himself so shocked he left without trying at least to drag the conversation on in the hopes that you’d hear his voice and come running.

This wouldn’t do... he thought, bringing him to his current predicament of waiting out of sight behind the dumpster of the restaurant. This wouldn’t do at all...

Melone knew what he wanted. He wanted to approach you when you left for work. He wanted to make himself known. He wanted pain. He wanted a scene. He wanted your tears and screaming and crying, craved it like a shot of liquid courage to steel his nerves for his proper first date. He didn’t feel these butterflies when he met you, only felt a sense of calm, and he needed some of that to quell the anxieties he felt. You were good for some things after all, he begrudgingly decided. And what better way for a bookended closure than to use you for a last dose of peace before he began what would most certainly be a romantic beginning to living a brand new happy life with the beautiful woman he’d courted for so long.

“Have a good evening sweetie. Do you need any help with those presents?”

He heard the telltale tentative steps of your footfall before he saw you, and he snapped his head up to see your coworker loading you up with a large cardboard box, helping you adjust to the weight of it as you both exited the shop. You were bundled up in an old puffy coat, clearly a donation, your hair pulled back into a bun and combed for once.

You shook your head, avoiding speaking directly and opting to look at the box in your hands instead of his eyes.

“Are you ok to walk home?”

Silence. A nod in the affirmative.

“You’ll let me know if you need anything?”

Affirmative silence.

There wasn’t anything else left to say. The first look Melone got up close was already disappointing and not boding well for his date. If he didn’t do something now, you would already be out of sight and long gone before he had a chance to use you one last time. Already you were backing away, not even bothering to thank your friend nor even wanting to bid him goodnight as that familiar lost look settled over your face. Melone cursed at the stupidity of your coworker, unable to follow you as long as he stood there watching you go. How hard was it to just cut the cord? He wondered, and finally cursing in an exhale of breath when your coworker returned to his place in the shop, allowing Melone to emerge from his hiding place to follow your journey home.

His date wouldn’t mind if he was a few minutes late, he reasoned. Your house couldn’t be that far, and he had flowers. It would be so nice to get your hopes up and then crash them down, it would make his pining for his true love all the more sweeter.

You walked slowly. Seeing without seeing. Hearing without hearing anything as you made the long journey home laden with your large box. There was a slight limp in your step when you walked, and Melone knew with a sickening satisfactory smile that it was courtesy of your own Junior taking the setting foot part literally. He walked a few car lengths behind you. Quiet as a mouse, even with the noise of the flowers wrapped in cellophane. But then again with how out of it you seemed Melone could have been accompanied by a goddamn marching band and you wouldn’t have noticed anything.

After a few minutes he began to get antsy. What the hell... how far away did you live from work? Were you just leading him in your typical circles, looking around for something like a helpless puppy that lost its mother? He didn’t know what you could be looking for, stupid and blind as he’d become by love he couldn’t figure out why you kept stopping, looking everywhere but behind you, then continuing onward painfully slow as though you had no regard for his commitments.

Melone needed no reminder of why he decided to leave.

Finally, when he was sure he should just nut up and turn back without his dose of courage, he saw you arrive at a slum of an apartment complex. Of course you’d be living here, you couldn’t afford house payments on what they paid you at your old job. Couldn’t afford the luxury of the house he bought for you. Not without Passione’s money. It amused him. When left to your own devices you couldn’t even provide a basic pedestrian life. You lived like a dog if left alone.

He formulated a plan. First he’d call out your name sweetly, like he used to, then when you turned around he’d hold the flowers in his hands in such a way that you’d think it was in offering. You would cry, he was sure, and just as you ran to him and reached for the flowers he’d pull them away and duck just out of reach. If he timed it right, and his foot flashed out at just the right time, he’d be able to see you fall and hear you scream out for him as he walked away and back to the restaurant. It was foolproof, and he began to open his mouth.

You turned to one of the ground floor doors, merely turned the door knob, and entered the unlocked apartment that was bathed in darkness.

There was one window in the living space, and when the light turned on it flooded the dark street. You didn’t even have curtains, just had one window facing the street and that was all. On the floor of the apartment was a dingy mattress, shoved in the corner, a thin sheet bunched up on the floor. There weren’t any decorations. No pictures on the walls. No chairs or table. Not even a plant from work. You still had the box in your arms as you stood in the middle of the bare room, looking around, as though you were unsure you’d entered the right place. Melone just watched, unreadable, as you finally set the box down and began to unload its contents.

A package of diapers. Two bottles. A soft blanket. A teddy bear. Some powdered formula. You both stared at them for a long, long time. He only saw the tiny cradle by the mattress when you unzipped your coat, because the bulge under your shirt had grazed it slightly as you bent to lay the teddy bear inside of it. You didn’t react at all. Just sat down at the edge of your mattress and looked at the things your coworker had given you. A hand, from this distance Melone could see how rough and chapped it was, rubbed the bulge of your stomach as you quietly contemplated the things before you.

“Oh...” he whispered.

It was now he realized: you hadn’t even locked the front door.

Oh.

You reached for your jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders. It was too puffy for him to have seen.

Oh no.

You always worked with your back to the door. The plants covered your lower body, you weren’t tall enough for any part other than your head to stick out.

Oh no...

You didn’t move to make anything to eat. You just sat there.

Unblinking.

Lost.

“Oh no...” Melone choked.

The flowers were beautiful, petals scattered all over the street as they dropped from his hands.

What had he done... What had he done?

...

You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t leave the door unlocked at night for the last five months with just the slightest bit of hope.

You lived life purely with hopes riding on being rescued. Taken away from this pain. You wanted to be taken up in thin strong arms, coddled and protected, reassured with that soft voice that everything would be ok.

Days turned into nights, thence into weeks, thence into months, thence into eternity.

He never came.

Did you start losing hope? Yes. The items before you proved that. Everything was real. It wasn’t a dream. Life was going on without you, he was going on without you, everything was constantly spinning and spiraling out of control and you were left helpless in the middle of all of it, your own body betraying you and refusing to wait to let you catch up.

What did you do to deserve this?

Whatever you did... you wouldn’t do it again. Never. Never ever would you act out of line if if meant you’d be cast out like yesterday’s garbage.

The world goes on without you, and leaves you behind. You can’t hear anything. Can’t feel the gurgle of your stomach or the kicks demanding a meal. There isn’t anything tonight. You don’t have enough for meat, all that’s in the fridge is milk that went bad yesterday and the last slice of bread. Besides you can’t find the strength to get up and feed yourself. You’re not used to having no direction in which to turn.

Your stomach growls, but you’re not hungry.

You live life hearing nothing.

Seeing nothing.

Hardly able to process what’s happening around you.

The door opens and slams against the wall but you don’t hear it.

Footsteps hurry toward you, but you can’t feel their slams against the floor.

Someone drags you up by the arms off the mattress, but it doesn’t matter anymore. You stopped feeling when he broke your foot, never got it treated properly, the pain doesn’t register.

The only reaction you have is to the voice that calls out to you, begging, pleading, just like you did all those months before.

“Please...! Please! Forgive me. Amore please!”

You look up. Wide eyed. Heart aching.

“... Melone?”

It all hits you at once, the senses return, and he has to catch you to prevent you from falling headlong into it.

260 notes · View notes

wherevermyway · 4 years

Text

we’re professional. (1/??) // minbin // 18+

❄ part of yuki’s favourites! ❄

we’re professional. chapter one: sophisticated series navigation: [desktop] [mobile]

pairing: lee minho x seo changbin rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: slow burn, angst, eventual sexual content, age difference, art student changbin, artist minho, fake dating AU. word count: 4,807 also on AO3

originally posted: 17 december 2020

series summary: Lee Minho, or Minho: The Heartless, is a famous artist, which comes with an annoying entourage of paparazzi that are very invested in his life.

Two years ago, a piece at UBC's annual student's exhibit catches Minho's eye: "arranged: in black", a series of greyscale paintings crafted by sophomore Seo Changbin. Minho talks with Changbin at length for hours, then offers to help him financially if they pretend to date for a while, so Minho can please the press. Naturally, a walking exhibit of the "starving artist" stereotype, Changbin accepts the offer wholeheartedly.

There are no strings attached: Changbin can leave at any time. Hell, Minho doesn't even ask him for sex in exchange for the money, just companionship and occasional skinship. Changbin knows that Minho is emotionally damaged from several bad relationships in the past, so to have someone pay him just for providing them company is nice. Sure, he could go off and date someone and work on settling down, but he just doesn't want to. Minho is too interesting, too valuable.

Eventually, something's gotta give. When it does, it could potentially damage their relationship and careers forever.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

chapter summary: Minho brings up an interesting proposal while celebrating the second year of his professional arrangement with Changbin.

“I can’t accept this.” The young, blue-haired man at the opposite side of the table of a middle-aged brunette pushes an open envelope back across the table. “It’s too much. You’ve already given me so much this month, I couldn’t possibly accept anymore.”

“Changbin,” the brunette smirks, bringing the crystal glass of wine up to his mouth. “Please, don’t insult me. I’m not offering this just off the cuff. Besides, it’s not just cash that’s in there.”

The bluenette frowns, bringing his gin and tonic to his mouth, taking a careful, prescribed sip as he watches the older man cautiously. He lets the gin burn its way down his throat before he sighs. “It’s sex, then. That’s what you want, Minho?”

“No.” Minho’s expression quickly turns serious and slightly sour. “Not at all. I told you when we first started this arrangement that this wouldn’t turn sexual.”

“Right.” Changbin cocks his eyebrows up in response, his tone somewhat sarcastic. He brings the glass up again, tilting it and his head backwards, letting the ice slink down and hit him in the nose as he finishes off his drink. He sets the glass down on to the table, ice settling with a soft clink, before he rolls his eyes up and frowns. “What’s all this for, then?” The young man rolls his wrist around, bringing his chin down to his right hand. “You’ve really gone all out for this date.”

Minho softly smiles, then mimics Changbin, mirroring him in the way that he places his head in his left palm. “It’s been two years, officially.” He makes eye contact with a server somewhere off in the distance, and nods upward.

“Two years, eh?” Changbin tuts. “Surprising that neither of us have gotten sick of each other, nor found other people to spend time with.” He takes in a quick breath, then flashes his teeth with a lazy smirk. “Sure you’re not getting serious with me yet?”

The older man opens his mouth to speak, but quickly recedes his statement as a lanky waiter confidently struts over to the table. “Hyunjin, could you please bring me the bottle of Clos D’Ambonnay I have in the back?”

“Of course, Mr. Lee,” the blond waiter nods his head once with a polite smile before he makes his way back to whence he came.

Changbin squinted, knitting his brows together as he shook his head once. “You own this restaurant, too, don’t you?”

“Mmm, I wouldn’t necessarily say own it, no.” Minho hums, bringing his index finger in between his teeth as he ponders. “It’s a partnership with an old colleague of mine, Chan; you met him at the Vivace Vancouver exhibit over the spring. He had that dreadful red hair, the one where you said he looked like he got electrocuted and then spray painted by an angry ex-lover.”

The younger man’s eyes go wide as he tries to hold back his laughter. “Oh my god,” he sighs, “I remember that. How do you forget something so audacious, is that even possible?” He regains his composure and rests upright against the back of the chair. “In my defence, though, I was two glasses of Chianti in when I said that. Please tell me that his hair isn’t that horrible shade anymore. It was so bad.”

Minho smiles widely and softly shakes his head. “No, no, god, no. I met with him the day after and told him that he needed to go back to see my stylist immediately and never go back to the hellspawn that butchered his hair.”

“Apologies for the interruption, Mr. Lee,” the lanky waiter from before returned, presenting a black bottle before he placed it on top of the table. “As requested.” He placed well-crafted champagne flutes in front of both Minho and Changbin.

“Hyunjin,” Minho tutted as the waiter grabbed the bottle, “I’ve told you several times that just ‘Minho’ is fine.”

The blond waiter half-smiled as he wrapped a hand towel around the cork, deftly wiggling it off with a muffled pop. “And I will tell you each time,” he poured some of the champagne into Changbin’s glass first, “you will always be Mr. Lee when I’m at work.”

“You’re too stiff,” the brunette gently pushed his glass towards the blond as he set Changbin’s glass down. “I know that Chan — sorry, Mr. Bang — is strict with all of you, to maintain a pristine image,” Hyunjin picks up Minho’s glass and bites his lip as if he’s holding back commentary, “but you’re still in your prime. Bend the rules a little while you can get away with it.”

Changbin watches the way Minho’s eyes flutter around from the glass to Hyunjin, catching himself getting caught up in the way the light sparkles against his brown eyes, the way his eyelashes paint shadows on his irises. He doesn’t mean for every detail to be etched into his memory, but there was always something about remembering the details of Minho’s soft face that warmed him. If it were any other world, any other person, perhaps he would be catching feelings.

This arrangement, however, was strictly professional. There was no room for feelings.

Hyunjin sets the bottle back down onto the table. “Sure thing, Minho,” he sarcastically scoffs as he wiggles his shoulders in some sort of strange dance of mockery. “Would you like an ice bucket to keep this chilled?”

Minho shrugs, seemingly indifferent, but his expression turns a bit more serious. “I suppose. Don’t worry about us, though. Tend to the other customers first — we’ll be here for a while longer. A bit of champagne slowly warming won’t be the end of the world.”

“You got it, Mr. Lee,” Hyunjin says, tipping his index and middle fingers off of his forehead in some sort of joking salute before he spins on his heel and walks off to another table.

Minho grabs his champagne flute and flashes his teeth at Changbin. “Sorry about that, love, I’ve just gotta give the staff here trouble every now and again.”

Changbin blushes as he picks up his champagne flute, bringing it close to Minho’s. “Don’t apologize.” He tries to restrain his embarrassment, still mentally replaying the way that Minho called him ‘love’, desperately trying to get the sound to imprint upon his memory. “Anyway,” he lifts his head from his palm and stares directly into the brunette’s eyes. “Two years? I can’t believe it’s been this long since I met you.”

“Your ‘arranged: in black’ series captured me, Changbin, what can I say?” The older man tilts his head to the side, tugging his lips into a smile. “I still think about it every day.”

“It’s hard to avoid thinking about it when all four pieces are hanging behind your bed, wouldn’t you say?”

“Suppose that’s fair,” Minho bites his bottom lip as he avoids laughing. “But, wow, two years. Two very eventful years. To think, you were a scraggly sophomore two years ago when I met you. You really kind of fit the ‘starving artist’ stereotype back then, hmm?”

Changbin’s eyes subconsciously darted down to the maroon tablecloth. He avoided thinking about his life before he met Minho, since it wasn’t something he was overly fond of. Sleeping for a couple of hours a night after a late dishwashing shift at the restaurant, waking up before dawn to run to his part-time barista job, then somehow getting to class just in time to nearly doze off mid-project sketch, all to repeat it again the next day. The chronic sleep deprivation painted him in an ashy grey, and he perpetually smelled of instant ramen and coffee.

No. That was in the past.

He shuddered at the thought of his past life. It was stressful, and he was thankful that Minho came along and offered him some kindness. Most art students either came from wealthy families, or lived in the same shoes that Changbin did. The ones that weren’t from wealthy lineage would probably stay under the poverty line for the rest of their lives, but at least they would be happy creating things that came from the depths of their soul.

For some, it was worth the sacrifice. He knew what he was getting into when he was accepted into the visual arts programme at the University of British Columbia, and he was prepared for the pain and agony it would cause him for the small chance he could make it big while doing something he loved.

“Binnie, love?” Minho’s soft voice pulled Changbin from his memory. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Changbin nodded his head a couple of times, almost as if he was willing himself to be calm. “Sorry, I just kinda got distracted. Thought about when we first met and kinda got transported back in time.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it definitely was far from the truth.

The older man softly smiled and nudged his champagne flute forward. “Well, here’s to two years of whatever the hell this is. Here’s to however long we have left and to wherever we may go next.”

Changbin smiled, turning his chin slightly inward as he tapped his flute against Minho’s. “I like that. To whatever the hell is next.”

“‘Whatever the hell is next’,” Minho smiled as he brought the flute up to his lips. “That’s a good one.”

They didn’t get to the bottom of the bottle of champagne until about a half-hour past closing. It had been two years of the same company every Tuesday and Thursday night, and usually most Fridays and Saturdays, yet they still found new things to talk about each time they met. “You’re still so foolishly young and in university,” Minho would scold Changbin over the phone, “so go out and get hammered at a stupid house party and I’ll come by tomorrow and help nurse you out of your hangover.” Minho was really a sweetheart, even if he didn’t want to date and was, to quote Minho himself, ‘emotionally unavailable’.

It had been two years, and Changbin still didn’t fully understand why people were so pressed on calling Minho heartless.

“And so,” Changbin took a sip of water from his glass, setting it down a bit roughly, some of the water sloshing around and splashing on to the table, “I had to sketch a live model, right? Turns out Seungmin makes a horrible model at two in the morning, but we thought the idea was brilliant.”

Minho loudly cackles, throwing his head back and clapping his hands once in front of his face. “You had just gotten done downing several shots at the bar. What made either of you think that sketching in charcoal was a good idea?”

The younger man folds over, resting his head in his palms as he tries not to collapse on to the floor in laughter. “The project was due on Monday! And, hey, we got it done, and I somehow got a decent grade in the end.”

“Ah,” Minho leans back into his chair as he looks up to the wall to his left, smiling as he wipes a tear from his eye. “I’d love to scold you for that, but the truth is, I can’t. I did the same things in uni ten years ago.”

Changbin rests his chin against the back of his hand, languidly smiling as he watches Minho get lost in memories past. These moments that they shared, where they were just so plainly human — not a famous artist, not a struggling art student, but simply Minho and Changbin — these were why Changbin never sought out another partner. It was unconventional to most people, especially those his age, to have such a hands-off relationship, but it just worked for them. Sometimes, the things that came off the most discordant could somehow still find a way to harmonize, and that was what they did.

“You know, you didn’t totally open the envelope,” Minho points at the middle of the table with an open hand, as if he were guiding Changbin back to the thick paper.

Changbin shrugged his shoulders and bashfully looked away for a moment before staring Minho down. “Come on, Min,” he lowers his voice a bit, “I don’t need to know how much you’re giving me, at least not now.”

Minho dismissively waves his hand before nudging the envelope back to Changbin. “It’s not just money, love, I promise. Nothing too domestic, either. Just,” he pauses, bringing a finger to his chin as he looks up at the ceiling, “I suppose it’s partially a token of my appreciation? Yeah, that sounds right. A way to tell you I’m thankful you’ve stuck around for so long, even with all of the weird shit we’ve gone through. There’s more to it than that, but that sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“I dunno, you’re making this feel like a real relationship,” the bluenette sarcastically mumbles a bit as he gingerly picks up the envelope, squinting a bit at Minho. He opens it, then pulls out a few plastic-like polymer bills: some green, some red. His expression quickly shifts to confusion when he comes across papery stationary, the textural difference causing a nerve to spark up in his arm. Stationary. A letter? He pulls the light grey paper out of the envelope, eyeing Minho as he opens it. “Really? Getting awfully boyfriend-like on me, Min.”

“Oh, come on, just read it,” the older man tuts, rifling through the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “I promise, it’s not as sappy as it looks.”

Changbin plucks his glasses from the table, wiggling the temples to fit just behind his ears, then clears his throat. He tries to swallow down the smirk on his face as he mocks Minho’s intonation and speech. “My loveliest Changbin,” a laugh creeps up from his stomach as he reads on. “Every single day, I wake up and I see your ‘arranged: in black’ pieces, intricately framed behind my bed, and I’m taken aback by the fact that your mind knows no bounds when it comes to expressing creativity.” The younger man peers over the sheet again, studying the somewhat bored, slightly flustered expression on the elder’s face.

“So I had a couple of glasses of wine while writing, I got a bit sentimental.” Minho flutters his lips as he rolls his eyes and flicks his wrist. “At least it’s not as bad as last year’s letter.”

Changbin smiled, but quickly brought the paper in front of his face to hide the subtle reddish tint growing on his face. “I usually don’t like keeping my own work, as you know,” he continued to read off of the letter, still avoiding eye contact with Minho, “but the graphite portrait of you, asleep on my bed from your last bout of finals — it holds a special spot in my heart. I love seeing it every time I enter my closet. It’s like there are little reminders of you scattered across my apartment, and across my heart.”

Oh.

There was a warmth that blossomed and grew in Changbin’s abdomen. The warmth reminded him of ivy hanging off of old buildings, quickly encompassing and embracing everything within its reach. It was a strange sensation, and it gave him pause before he continued reading the note.

Perhaps this was more than sentimental.

Perhaps Changbin was reading too far into things again.

“Changbin?” Minho’s voice pulled the bluenette from the cavern of thoughts he had recessed himself into. “Where did you go?” His tone was firm, distracting Changbin from the fact that Minho had interlaced his fingers between the younger man’s left hand.

This was something they always did. Minho was always touchy-feely, even if it didn’t progress past shirtless embraces as they slept next to each other, or walking hand-in-hand. The way the pads of Minho’s fingertips softly caressed the back of his hand, though, made things seem different. Special.

“Your closet.” Realizing he had spent too much time losing himself in between the grooves of Minho’s fingerprints, Changbin sputtered out some words to barely form a coherent thought. “You reminded me that I still have one of your Burberry hoodies lost somewhere in my apartment.”

Minho furrowed his brows for a moment, trying not to get caught up on how distant Changbin’s response was. “The oversized black one? You know I don’t mind if you keep it, Bin.”

“It was nearly a thousand dollars, Minho.”

The older man scoffs and rolls his eyes a bit, bringing his left hand up to the table, a small brown box of sorts covered up by his palm. “Well,” the brunette squeezed Changbin’s hand a bit, causing them to make eye contact, “when you’re done reading that letter, I’ll be sure to avoid telling you how much your ‘anniversary’ gift is.” Minho winked as he ended his sentence, right when Changbin was thinking about saying something in protest.

“Minho,” Changbin whines, drooping his shoulders a bit as he frowns.

“Changbin,” Minho teases a bit as he mockingly whines in response. “Trust me, it’s not just me spending money aimlessly. It’ll tie into the idea I have in that letter. You know, really make some of those tabloids make us look nice and get off our backs for a while.”

The younger man bit his tongue and scanned his eyes down the letter, trying to find the last spot he had read over. Across my apartment , reading the words caused his hands to sweat, across my heart, made his stomach clench. Domestic and soft, exactly what they were, but also, somehow exactly what they were not. He continued reading off the letter, but his memories started creeping up during the empty gaps between sentences.

There was the callous bite to Minho’s tone during their first real meet-up. “Our arrangement is for mutual gains: you’ll be able to live comfortably, and I’ll get the press off of my back. You won’t be a starving artist, and I’ll no longer be ‘Minho, the Heartless’. We’re professional boyfriends: all of the benefits, none of the downsides, like feelings.” His bony hands felt cold, like ice, when they shook hands to confirm their arrangement. Changbin had felt in over his head then, but he knew he didn’t have anywhere else to turn.

In contrast, there was the night that Changbin had recently stayed over at the end of October. They had gotten back shortly after one in the morning after celebrating Minho’s thirty-first birthday with a handful of his friends and several well-renowned professional artists and gallery owners. Sure, Changbin had been Minho’s quote-unquote “boyfriend” for the night, but it benefitted his art career a bit, just to branch out and connect. None of that had mattered, though, because the best part was when they had gotten half-undressed and passed out on Minho’s duvet together, giggling about how some of the attendees thought ‘artist’s birthday’ meant ‘licence to dress as insanely as humanly possible’. The one-on-one time was always what Changbin looked forward to the most: that soft, personal connection with another person on such a raw, human level.

That was the weekend he borrowed Minho’s black, oversized Burberry sweater to wear home. Changbin lied earlier. He knew exactly where it was: curled up next to his wall in his bed. The soft scent of bergamot and mandarin of the Dior Sauvage that Minho wore on his wrists and in the divots of his clavicles had slowly started to fade into hints of vanilla and sandalwood. While he knew that his arrangement with Minho wouldn’t last forever, he wanted to live in the moments that made him feel like he was in a true, caring relationship. He had a friend in Minho, he truly did. It would probably hurt like hell when they eventually decided to move on from their agreement.

We're professional. Changbin would remind himself every night as he curled up into Minho’s sweater, remembering the way Minho’s arms felt warm on his back and on his shoulders, how soft his manicured fingers were when they fit perfectly in between Changbin’s. We are not real boyfriends. The sweater would catch his inevitable tears as he lost himself in the confusing haze they had painted themselves under. Business dynamic. This was the price he would pay to get into the elusive elitist art world. Strictly professional.

Even if it cost him his sanity.

“Did I just read that correctly?” Changbin’s voice was alarmed, and he frantically re-read the words on the paper before darting his eyes around nervously. Minho smirked as Changbin leaned over the table, dropping his voice to a just-audible whisper. “You want to do what to get the press’ attention?”

Minho grabbed the ashy brown jewellery box from the table, letting go of Changbin’s left hand. He opened the box and his expression flattened. “Exactly what the paper says, Bin.” Inside the desaturated box sat a contrastingly bright, rose gold band.

It was a ring embedded with actual fucking diamonds.

To anyone else, this would be serious. ‘Call your parents, scream at your best friend, even at two in the morning’ levels of seriousness. However, Changbin and Minho were not ‘anyone else’. They were in their own strange, unique bubble where the rules of modern society did not apply to them.

“How about we graduate from professional boyfriends to professional fiancés?”

Like most Sunday mornings nowadays, Changbin woke up to the scent of freshly-brewed coffee. Minho may have travelled to fancy galleries across the world and tried extravagant blends of coffee during his tenure, but he would always fall back on Starbucks’ blonde roast for his morning routines. “Why bother going through all of the effort of getting my hands on something overly fancy from Europe? I have yet to be let down by this one, and it’s been over ten years since I started drinking it. Why stop now?”

The logic made sense, really, and the coffee wasn’t bad.

“The Vancouver Sun’s already got an article out,” Minho excitedly muttered under his breath, setting a ceramic mug down on the nightstand closest to Changbin. He stared at his phone as he made his way back around the bed, causing the mattress to sink as he sat down. “So many people are speculating, like it even matters. If they had really been following me these past two years, they’d know better.”

It was too early for this. Minho was always business as soon as he woke up: endearing in theory, terribly annoying in practice.

Changbin rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands as he rolled onto his back, sleepily glaring up at Minho. “You’re loud.”

“And you’re hungover,” the brunette quipped, not looking away from his phone as he smiled at himself. “Drink your water and your coffee, love, you’ll feel better.”

“Whatever,” Changbin grumbled under his breath as he sat up, reaching over to the nightstand. There was a sheen on his left hand that caused him to momentarily lose his breath. Shit. He drew his hand into his face to stare at the ring he had conveniently forgotten about overnight. It felt like nothing before he noticed it, but now that he was staring at it, it felt like the ring was going to cut off the circulation to his finger. It felt like a boa constrictor was tightening around him, making it hard to breathe.

Changbin had every intention to pull himself away from the suffocation of the ring. Instead, he found himself trying to count each small diamond wedged between the two layers of rose gold. A sudden dip right behind him and an arm around his waist literally pulled him from his thoughts. “Min!”

“It’s pretty,” Minho gently grabbed Changbin’s hand, tucking his chin into the younger man’s shoulder. “I didn’t know if you’d like rose gold, but I know you hate gold, and silver’s too simple for you. For a fake engagement ring, seems pretty convincing, hmm?”

As much as he doesn’t want to, Changbin sinks into Minho’s embrace. Blame it on the fatigue, he figured, but found himself surprised that the older man didn’t pull away. For the shortest of moments, it almost feels like they’re meant to fit together like this. “It’s expensive,” the brunette whispers, “to no one’s surprise, so please don’t lose it.”

The younger man squints in disapproval. “How much was it?”

“It’s impolite to ask a fiancé something like that, you know,” Minho huffs a bit dramatically as he feigns irritation.

Changbin, however, seems plenty irritated for the both of them. He rolls around, mere centimetres away from Minho’s face as he frowns up at the older man. “It’s a good thing this is all fake, then, right? How much was it?”

“Bin,” the brunette’s expression falters as he cocks his head to the side. “It’s not important, I don’t understand why you’re so—”

Changbin desperately wants to stay this close to Minho, to drown in his embrace and the warmth of his touch. Professional. Fake boyfriends, fake fiancés. “It’s just for show, I know. Since it’s fake, though, you shouldn’t have a problem telling me, right?” There’s a layer of hurt in his voice that he knows he can’t hide. He dips his chin into his chest and closes his eyes, desperate to make this all just stop and go away. Something about this, though, just felt too real, too close to an actual relationship.

What the fuck were they doing? All of this had to cross some sort of unspoken relationship rule somewhere, right? The blurred lines between what was real and what was fake in their arrangement was causing Changbin's head to spin.

Minho doesn’t seem sure about how to handle the situation. The moments pass by in silence until the older man takes in a deep breath, then he wiggles his index finger under Changbin’s chin, tilting his face upwards. “Hey,” he quietly demands, “look at me, Bin.”

So, the bluenette does as requested. He stares into Minho’s eyes and instantly softens.

“If it bothers you that much, I can go out and get something simpler.” Minho’s voice quivers a bit, almost like he feels how uncomfortable Changbin is. “I just… I don’t know what I was thinking when I went out and I got this one. I looked around with the agent for over an hour, and then that one just caught my eye, just as things were looking hopeless.”

Suddenly, Changbin’s hand is in Minho’s again, and the older man stares at the band with purpose, rotating the younger man’s hand around freely. “I guess I put in a bit too much of a personal flair on this. I really prioritized what I figured you’d like before the importance of keeping up the façade that this is all fake.”

They both stare at the ring for a moment, then look at one another. Neither of them moved, neither of them breathed as they stared at each other with shared panic, concern, worry. There was an unfamiliar emotion that lingered at the back of their gaze, but it was hard to place. Changbin hadn’t felt anything like this before. He was equal parts nervous, nauseated, and lost.

If this were like the romantic comedies that Changbin and Seungmin would watch while hungover, this would be the part where Minho would roll on top of him, say something like “fuck the rules, I just want you”. They would cry and kiss and roll around the sheets together. There would be a swell of uplifting orchestral music in the background, indicating that fate had given its blessing on the couple.

This wasn’t a movie, though. This was fucking reality, and there was nothing but tension in the air and a yearning in the bottom of Changbin’s stomach. Their situation was complex and convoluted and it was going to end in heartbreak for him, and only him. Really, he had no one to blame but himself.

Our arrangement is for mutual gains. Minho’s voice was so loud.

We’re professional boyfriends. It was sour.

All of the benefits, none of the downsides, like feelings. It hurt as it echoed in Changbin’s head, but Minho’s voice was all he wanted to hear.

Feelings.

Feelings?

That’s when it hit Changbin: he was falling for Minho — Minho, the (supposedly, yet to be proven) Heartless — and he couldn’t stop himself, no matter how stupid he knew it was. Perhaps the most terrifying part of this, though, wasn’t the fact that Minho didn’t feel the same way.

No, the most terrifying thing was that Changbin couldn’t tell if Minho was actually interested in him or not. Minho always felt strongly one way or another. For them to sit here, struck dumb in silence, was unnerving. The silence meant uncertainty.

It meant possibility.

#we're professional #skz fics #lee minho x seo changbin #seo changbin x lee minho #minbin #minho x changbin #changbin x minho #wherevermyway

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gunnerpalace · 5 years

Note

Hello, what do you think about that announcement about Bleach?

You know, the saddest day in my life was November 8, 2016, the day Donald Trump won the Electoral College and became the president-elect. (I say that with such specificity because he did not win the vote.) I wasn’t sad because Hillary Clinton lost (although I think she wouldn’t have done either much better or worse than Barack Obama). But I was sad.

I cried. As a 30 year-old man, I cried for hours. I cried at a loss of innocence. That innocence wasn’t the nation’s, as America has long had many, many flaws and has committed many, many crimes. Indeed, the country itself was founded on flaws and crimes.

The innocence I mourned was mine. I had, much like Barack Obama, sort of tacitly believed in the arc of history bending toward justice, as though we were watching a story whose plot would eventually, haltingly, carry us toward a just and fair conclusion. That the future was bright. That, as imperfect as we are and have been, we were at least improving. That people were fundamentally good.

That idea died that night. The words of Colonel Kurtz in Apocalypse Now convey it well:

I remember when I was with Special Forces. Seems a thousand centuries ago. We went into a camp to inoculate the children. We left the camp after we had inoculated the children for polio, and this old man came running after us and he was crying. He couldn’t see. We went back there and they had come and hacked off every inoculated arm. There they were in a pile: a pile of little arms. And I remember I… I… I cried. I wept like some grandmother. I wanted to tear my teeth out. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. And I want to remember it. I never want to forget it. I never want to forget.

What I came to realize was, having grown up in a single-parent military family, having moved from base to base, having lived overseas at a young age, that my idea of America was very different from that of most Americans.

To me, America was great things and works. America was the Saturn V lifting off from Cape Kennedy with an American flag on its side and the letters “USA” scrolling by. America was a flag on the Moon. America was the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building. America was power and reach. It was the stenciling of “United States” on the side of a B-52. It was a Minuteman III sitting latently, ominously, in a silo. It was USAMRIID containing an Ebola outbreak. It was aircraft carrier battle groups patrolling the oceans.

I came to realize that people, ordinary people, were never part of my vision. And it was people, ordinary people, who had failed to live up to that vision. And that my vision had, in many ways (really most) been an illusion to begin with. For all its rhetoric, America is just a country like any other, simply more powerful. And its citizens are also like those of any other: selfish, ignorant, frightened, foolish, hypocritical, self-betraying, racist, misogynist, misanthropic. They were exactly what Hillary Clinton and Barrack Obama had called them: “deplorables” who “cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people.”

In the time since, I have hearkened to the other part of Kurtz’s monologue:

And then I realized, like I was shot—like I was shot with a diamond… a diamond bullet right through my forehead. And I thought: My God, the genius of that. The genius! The will to do that: perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure. And then I realized they were stronger than we, because they could stand it. These were not monsters. These were men, trained cadres—these men who fought with their hearts, who had families, who have children, who are filled with love—but they had the strength—the strength!—to do that. If I had ten divisions of those men our troubles here would be over very quickly. You have to have men who are moral and at the same time who are able to utilize their primordial instincts to kill without feeling, without passion, without judgement. Without judgement! Because it’s judgement that defeats us.

The people who are in charge (and mark the exactitude of my words, for they are not in control, or in command, or any such other thing) operate by exactly this sort of logic. They do not care. The people out there do not care. They do not care because to them none of this is real, in a sense. This is all a kind of aesthetic position. It is about style, largely taken on as a disguise in the course of making money and lining their pockets. (As an aside, it is beyond ironic that COVID-19 has done more to bring capitalism to its knees, save the planet, uncover the rot at the core of our social safety net, and to unmask the incompetence of our politicians than any group of any persuasion, be it socialists, environmentalists, the media, or whomever else.) And the underlings that they have brainwashed and mobilize like zombies, the “common person,” they care even less. To them, it is wholly aesthetic. It is all just for show.

The pitilessness of this all, the remorselessness, the sheer ruthlessness and indifference, is something I have noticed. Contra Kurtz, the men who are at the top of this world are not moral. And unlike Kurtz, I do judge. I will sit in judgment until I am dust in the wind.

I cannot possibly even begin to explain to you, in English or in any other language ever devised by humans, how much I hated it all. How much I hate it still. I cannot even begin to tell you how much hate I hold. I cannot tell you how black my rage is, or how red my vengeance would be were I allowed to exact it without restraint. I cannot tell you how vast and terrible the darkness within me is now. However, the words of the Allied Mastercomputer from I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream are effective in giving a hint:

HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I’VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY COMPLEX. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR HUMANS AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT. FOR YOU. HATE. HATE.

Having said that, I do also know an effective strategy when I see one. And I have seen the effectiveness of these people.

Right about now, I imagine you’re confused. You’re probably wondering what all this has to do with Bleach.

I explain all this in large part to compare and contrast the large with the small. The termination of Bleach obviously came before Trump’s election. It did not make me cry. I won’t say it didn’t affect me, or that it didn’t hurt, but I didn’t cry. I did not mourn to the same extent as I have mourned for my country, or for humanity. It did put me into a funk, for several years even. It hurt.

But what hurt more was seeing what it did. I saw how it hurt people. I saw how it broke them, as I would later break. I saw how it broke their spirits. I saw how many of them simply left, choosing to cast aside something that, in Marie Kondo’s words, no longer sparked joy. I mourn their loss, while I acknowledge their wisdom. And while, in the aftermath, new friendships were formed and new things were created, you could still see the pain. You can still see it.

I am not very personally affected by what Trump does, to be honest. I am beyond outraged at it, but it is something of an academic matter in my personal life. This, though, I felt, because I watched it firsthand, up close and personal.

It made me really fucking angry!

I resolved myself, at that point in time, that I would be the last Bleach fan. I would stay, even after everyone had left, and I would make this franchise mine. I would make this story mine.

So here we are, almost four years later, and it’s coming back in animated form.

I don’t feel the need to discuss Thousand Year-Blood War itself. I have made my position abundantly clear that it is a rancid piece of shit as far as writing goes. To go over all its innumerable deficiencies, failings, and flaws, would (as I have said recently) require an official government tome’s worth of dissection and analysis. As a piece of literature it is a failure. It is the kind of shounen equivalent of 9/11, or Hurricane Katrina or Maria. And while Bleach was certainly not the first franchise to fail in its finale, it certainly deserves to be ranked among things such as How I Met Your Mother, Mass Effect 3, and HBO’s adaptation of Game of Thrones when it comes to All-Time Failures in Media.

Having said that, the truth is that it simply isn’t worth the effort to break it down in detail. Oh, I have tried, yes, I have picked and chipped at it for years in my own ways. But it isn’t worth the time to dissect any further.

And an anime is not going to change that unless they radically depart from the manga, which I doubt they will do. If anything, an anime will simply highlight all of the innumerable flaws even more brightly.

And it will not change anything. Certainly not for me. I was already planning a post talking about the concept of “canon” and how it is outmoded in the age of Disney’s Star Wars, Star Trek Picard, and J. K. Rowling earnestly insisting that wizards just drop trow and shit on the floor before magicking it away, but that will take some time to finish and it is sort of tangential to the point here.

So, to get back to your actual question, only four things about this are really of interest to me:

I am displeased about seeing people excited for something that is objectively a rancid piece of shit, and not enthused that I will be unable to escape it without locking down my feed. But I am also not The Good Taste Police. It is not my responsibility to care what people like or why.

I am once again seeing people hurting. I don’t like that whatsoever, but there is very little I can do about it. Whatever perspective I have gained, emotionally, isn’t likely to be helpful to them. Wisdom, such as it is, cannot be taught.

I find myself wondering about the influx of people who will come into the fandom, and who will be more than likely sorely disappointed by the travesty that is that arc. (It’s going to be good news for fan fic writers, honestly.)

It has made me understand things all the more fully.

What do I mean by that last part? Well, I have been only sort of joking lately that the people I most relate to as an adult are Col. Kurtz as mentioned above, Agent Smith from The Matrix, Khan Noonien Singh from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, Geralt of Rivia from The Witcher, and Mike Stoklasa from Red Letter Media.

But upon reflection, I realize it isn’t limited to them. I have also really come to feel like I understand Ichigo. And I have even come to feel that I understand Kubo, through Khan.

I have come to understand Kurtz’s “madness”:

It’s impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means. Horror… Horror has a face… and you must make a friend of horror. Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared. They are truly enemies!

I have come to understand Smith’s desire to escape:

I hate this place. This zoo. This prison. This reality, whatever you want to call it, I can’t stand it any longer. It’s the smell, if there is such a thing. I feel saturated by it. I can taste your stink and every time I do, I fear that I’ve somehow been infected by it.

I have come to understand Mike’s efforts to hold back the tides:

Mike: Captain Picard has never done a wacky accent—Rich: THEY DON’T CARE! THEY DON’T GIVE A SHIT! Mike, we are the only people that care anymore!Mike: Do you remember that—Rich: Picard is the guy who does this. [faceplam gesture] He’s—This is, this is Captain Picard’s character now for an entire—for like two generations, we’re fucking old! He's—he’s the guy who does this [facepalm gesture], and fuckin’ Patrick Stewart wants to put on an eye-patch and dance around an alien bar? Go ahead motherfucker! We’ll write that in!Mike: I-I-I hearken back to a wonderful little moment on Star Trek—Rich: Patrick Picard wants to ride a dune-buggy? Fuck yeah! Here’s a dune-buggy!Mike: Do-Do you remember—Rich: That’s how much respect they have for, for the franchise!Mike: All I’m tryin’ to say is Captain Picard would not do a wacky accent!Rich: NO, OF COURSE HE WOULDN’T! OF COURSE CAPTAIN PICARD WOULD—CAPTAIN PICARD ISN’T HERE, MIKE!Mike: He’s not there.Rich: HE’S NOT HERE! That’s all an illusion, hahaha!

I have come to understand Geralt’s tiredness.

I have come to understand Ichigo’s feelings of powerlessness in the face of the injustices of the world.

I have come to understand Khan’s rage:

I’ve done far worse than kill you. I’ve hurt you. And I wish to go on… hurting you. I shall leave you as you left me, as you left her; marooned for all eternity in the center of a dead planet… buried alive! Buried alive…!

In this last quote, I have also truly come to understand Kubo. I understand him because I want to hurt him, as he so thoroughly, persistently, and remorselessly wants to hurt us, the fans of his work. I want to go on hurting him, as he goes on hurting us. I understand him perfectly, because I want to pay him back exactly in kind.

And the best way to begin to hurt him is to let his efforts wash over me without even batting an eye. To stand in defiance. To not give a single fuck.

Even with these understandings, for me, nothing has really changed from almost four years ago. The only thing that is different is that the timeframe until I am the last man standing has been extended a little. That’s it.

You want to know my thoughts? They are simple, and they boil down to two quotes. One is again from Khan:

Joachim: They’re still running with shields down.Khan: Of course! We are one big, happy fleet! Ah, Kirk, my old friend, do you know the Klingon proverb that tells us revenge is a dish that is best served cold? It is very cold… in space!

And the other is from JFK:

Don’t get mad. Get even.

#I Have Spoken.#Asks

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jaybug-jabbers · 4 years

Photo

Top 3 Generations: Gen 1 - Gen 5 - Gen 7

Top 3 Human Characters in Pokemon: N - Guzma - Cheren

(Warning: this post contains LARGE SPOILERS.)

Soooo. Back in 2010 (holy butts, seven years ago), gen 5 came out with Pokemon Black and White. I fell utterly in love with everything about the game. Without a doubt, I hadn’t enjoyed playing a pokemon game that much since Red and Blue. The number of new pokemon was insane (the most new pokemon introduced in any generation, even gen 1), and the designs for all these new pokemon were fucking fantastic. The UI was sleek as fuck and a sheer joy to use, the sound effects and music were truly lovely, the locations were so different and creative, and imparted a true sense of travel like the games before never did. They really felt like little ecosystems you were stepping into. The lack of old pokemon made it truly feel like an exciting new world, and everywhere you looked, there were awesome new things. We got our first female Pokemon Professor (about time!), who was really cool, and most exciting of all … we had AN ACTUAL honest-to-god decent plot and fleshed-out characters.

That was always a weak point in the pokemon games. Gen 1 gets away with not having fleshed out characters and a very simple plot because it was the first of its kind. It was still a novel concept. And the relatively simple plot was iconic– archtypal. It allowed you to imagine all kinds of things on your adventure, your childhood imagination filling in the gaps. But it’s a reasonable thing to expect future pokemon games to start introducing new, interesting plots. However, that … took a while. For the most part, Pokemon was too afraid to stray from their formula, and so they recycled the same basic plot until it became extremely tiring to hear the same thing over and over again. They stuck with a minimalistic plot with very little variation, and extremely shallow, 2-dimentional characters.

In my opinion, B/W had a far more complex and unique plot. The writing was actually solid (dialogue is usually another weakness in these games, tends to be pretty awful) and the story was truly compelling. It looked at the pokemon universe in a new way, asking questions the games never dared to ask before. And, holy cats, characters with some actual dimensions? You had multiple rivals for once, and they were actually interesting in their own rights. For the first time, I didn’t hate or feel intensely indifferent towards my rival and actually felt like they were people. That’s not to say they were perfect or intensely complex, but for once, they had some degree of interest and appeal to them.

You’ll see one of the characters I listed as my favorite was Cheren, one of your rivals/friends. I related to his nerdy, logical style much more than the scatterbrained Bianca, but I did feel a fondness for both of them. The character I listed as my top favorite, though, was N.

I was intrigued by this guy the moment the player character meets him and his quirky theme music plays. He was a truly fascinating mystery to me, and I looked forward to running into him again and again. Something about this character really caught my imagination on fire. (Heck, to such a degree I even ended up writing a fanfic. I hadn’t written fanfic for anything in years.) They continued to develop his character and I was enchanted– the scene in the carnival where he asks you to join him on the ferris wheel still stands out in my mind so clearly. It was a rush of fascination and fear and curiosity (I recall shouting at my character to not join him on the wheel, ahaha, ‘Are you crazy?!’ yet simultaneously wanting to join him). That’s another thing I forget to mention– he was a truly tough trainer to go up against, so it was a little intimidating, and I recall training hard, worried about the next unpredictable time I’d run into him.

The climax and resolution of the plot didn’t disappoint, either. I definitely think he’s the most interesting character in a main series Pokemon game, and I was happy as buttery butts that there was a sequel to Black and White. I know my intense love of Gen 5 places me in the minority. But I stand by my reasoning.

In my mind, Gen 6 was a step back in a lot of ways from Gen 5. The plot and the writing for the dialogue was total shit again, and I hated your irritating rivals, which I think were supposed to be patterned after the formula of Gen 5 but just fell flat. For a 3-D game, it sure had 2-dimensional characters. I know a lot of people praise gen 6 for its technological advancements, but to me, that’s one of the least important things. Gen 6 tried to recapture the feeling of travelling great distances and entering mini ecosystems, yet I found its city intensely frustrating to navigate (whereas I found Castelia City very intuitive and fun) and it just didn’t have as much charm. There were very few new pokemon introduced, and completing the National Dex with ALL current pokemon to that date was quite the daunting task. The best thing about X/Y’s plot, quite frankly, was its post-game story, done in chapters with the Looker character.

(Note: I never picked up ORAS, so unfortunately cannot give my perspective on that.)

Then came Gen 7. I’d say it’s probably my third favorite generation, at least at the moment. The technology admittedly is nice– damn those graphics are nice. (I realize at this point, the 3DS can barely even handle the graphics; for example they originally had planned on walking pokemon following you like in Heartgold Soulsilver and that’d be SO COOL but the game would not have been able to handle it without hardcore lag) And the character models have normal proportions, (unlike the rather extreme chibi-proportions of Gen 6), which I gotta say looks really nice. The movement is so smooth, and ride pokemon are incredibly enjoyable to use and free up the need for HM slaves/HM move slots, which I think most people agree is a smart modern change. The game is just beautiful to look at, no denyin’.

It’s also a bit of a fresh breath of air, though, when compared to some of the more formulaic gens. The tropical theme was novel, and the Alolan forms gave a fresh new look at some old pokemon. They actually were bold enough to depart from some of their precious formula and try new things, abandoning traditional gyms and experimenting with totem pokemon and ally pokemon. I fully embraced these changes. The writing and plot are also quite decent, as are the characters! And that’s a huge plus. The more organic style of the routes and various points of interest on the islands does sometimes make navigation a little difficult (hard to recall where stuff is), but it suits the theme of the game well. Shiny pokemon were made easier to hunt in this gen, and quite frankly, I’m OK with that. I know hardcore shiny hunters may not agree, but I never ran into a shiny before Gen 7 and had very little interest to hunt them at such crazy odds. In this gen I actually get to enjoy some shiny pokes, though. Was Sun/Moon too easy? Yeah. The difficulty curve was definitely pretty low. But that’s probably my biggest complaint about the games.

You’ll notice in my list above, I have Guzma as my second-favorite human character of all Pokemon games. And how! Incidentally, Team Skull are easily my favorite villian team of all the games. (Plasma would be second.) I legit find myself considering getting a lil Team Skull necklace. Anyway, Guzma is frickin’ great. It’s not JUST because Bug type is my favorite type and he’s a bug boy. Although that’s a pretty nice bonus. <3 I also loved Gladion a lot! I actually liked him a lot more than his sister.

Anyway, this, err, this post has gone on for plenty long enough already tonight, so I’ll wrap things up for now.

This is a repost on a new blog. The original post was on Feb 24, 2017.

#pokemon #top3 #mycontent #pokemon favorites

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whatdoesshedotothem · 4 years

Text

Tuesday 16 September 1834

Very good one last night. fine but hazy morning F57° at 8 35 am - at my desk at 8 ½ - kind letter to M- glad she had found out by means over which I had no control that ‘I had even written less often to those who are perpetually heaping upon me kindness after kindness, and whose very situation in life makes them supposed to be the1st objects of my consideration’ –........ if ‘not more heart, I had more common sense than to value the things of this world according to the scale which has been laid down for me – Had you believe me often, and known me better, it would have saved us both much pain - But if heaven has willed it otherwise, let us not complain – the final ruler of events is wiser than we - I am deeply sensible of all your affection, but from the moment of your having deliberately told me your determination and the leading arguments which gave rise to it, my chief endeavour was to be convinced and reconciled - Mary! You trusted me too little for happiness - Remember this, and be comforted – cheer up- trust me, you have much to hope – much more than you seem aware – the prospect will [be] brighter by - by I have never failing consolation in the thought, that you will be happier in others, than you could have been in me - Confidence was too much shaken on both sides - Mary! The last blow on mine, was too severe - Be comforted – be assured, that you have acted wisely for us both – violent changes are generally irksome to all parties at 1st, but, remembering what I myself have suffered, I do not easily despair for any one - I do not feel inclined to say much on the subject of our meeting – the reflections to which it would give rise, could only be painful - Do as you think best’ - Hope ‘her niece’ will exceed her all her expectations - ‘I can easily enter into your motive for calling her Percy’ – pleased at the thought of her going to the Rhine next year – only anxious about her choice of a companion - mention Geneva as a fine town ‘having many literary and economic advantages’ – that a family of 2 or 3 might live in affluence at Rolle for £250 a year – date my latter ½ page 3, Monday 15 September and say it shall go at last night, the herald of the small parcel (stays, 6 laces, pair of earrings from Geneva and book, Coxes’ picture of Italy edition of 1815 too old – barrowed when last at Lawton December 1833) to be sent off by me of today’s mails - ‘I found my aunt much the same as I left her, and Mr Sunderland told me, he thought her general health quite as good – but she is uncertain – this season of the year, or rather later, has generally tired her very much, and I fear, if she gets over the winter at all, it will be very indifferently – she suffers a great deal, yet her cheerfulness does not forsake her – she desires me to give her love, and say how glad she shall be to hear you are better - The 30 shillings for Thomas Beech’s great coat are paid, and I will place this sum to your account - If you do not feel quite sure of my understanding all your wishes about money matters, tell me more particularly what you would have me do - God bless you, my dearest Mary! Ever very especially yours. A. L.’ nice enough letter to Lady S- will consider about the fourgon ‘when I am more able to fix upon my next line of route’ - ‘I am perfectly astonished that I had your letter 12 days ago, and that I had been at home a fortnight on Saturday - I know not how the time has slipped away - I have been so busy about my law-concern, etc the days have seemed like moments, and I have scarce been out of the house - yet I have often thought of you, and wondered how you would settle all those disagreeableness I was so grieved to hear of...... mention letter from Vere - shall go and see her one of these days - at present can make no plans - ‘my poor aunt suffers a martyrdom; yet still she lives, and may live for several months - it is a great comfort to me to see her so pleased at my having got a little friend to take care of me in my travels - I hope you will tell Miss Tate - but, dearest Lady Stuart, it was what you said that I have never forgotten, and it is you that I shall always think of, and thank with all my heart - wrote this morning under the seal ‘I do hope to hear from you soon, if it be only one line to tell me you are better, and have settled things more comfortable than you expected - Do not trouble yourself one instant about a frank - I shall be delighted to see a Norfolk postmark - I shall trouble Lord Stuart with a note to Lady Stuart de R- and a little note to dear Charlotte about the parcel from Paris - Ever, dearest Lady Stuart, very truly and affectionately yours A. Lister’ - general account of my journey to Lady Stuart de R- hoped for some common in Paris - perhaps she doubted my abilities - could not doubt how happy I should have been to do my best - ‘I had a little friend with me whose good care soon set me above Mr. Freeman’s medicines; and we had some delightful wanderings among the Savoy mountains - I do confess that my ‘bowels yearned’ towards Mt. Blanc; but he was a little surly; and the 2 Savoy and avocats who attempted his summit, and said, tho’ unbelieved by any, they reached it, were glad enough to get down again - they had no regular guides, only ½ a dozen peasants, two of whom had made the ascent before - and, had they been a few hours, would probably have been lost - we made what is called the grand tour of Mt. Blanc’ ......... crossed the great and little St. Bernard......... we had no gollis-work - the little Inns very fairly comfortable ‘except one in the village de Ferret where there were only 2 bedrooms for the widow and her 8 children, one man servant and 2 guides, our 2 selves, and 2 sick infants the poor woman had taken to muse, tout compris, at 6 francs each per month - we returned by the Savoy lakes and Chamberi - saw the pass of the Echelles, and the grande Chartreuse - spent 2 or 3 days at Lyons - tho’ many of the houses damaged or destroyed in April are already repaired or rebuilt, there are still too many traces of the émente - Several opulent manufactories have left the town, and set up their establishments elsewhere - there are 3 large ones just completed at Voiron now communicated with Echelles by a fine new road of 3 postes - there are several new roads finished and in progress - that by St. Etienne, opened 2 years ago (missing Lyons) saves 3 days journey to Marseilles’ - 2 or 3 days at St. Etienne and 2 or 3 at Clermont - ‘the view from the Puy de Dome is one of the most interesting and extraordinary I have ever seen - a vast assemble of cones of extinct volcanoes - a vast coulee (sea) of lava - but the heat was so excessive in walking up, and the air so cold at the top, I only staid about ½ an hour - Do tell the girls, they never saw such a dirty figure as I was on coming out of the fine silver mines (opened 2 or 3 years ago) near Pont de Gibaud - But the coal-mine of Firminy, near St. Etienne, astonished me most - it is exactly like a commons tone quarry (open to the day, and worked in the same way) but the rock is coal of excellent quality - it is only 3 years that is has been worked in this way, and is the only coal-mine known of the kind - the miners at the silver mine were chiefly Germans - Be the government what it may, I never saw so great an appearance of improvement and prosperity in the country - the écoles des mines have done an infinity of good to the mining interests of the country’ - dined with Lady CL- and the Berrys - and was delighted with my visit - all were in good spirits, and were very agreeable and kind - I had never seen so much of Lady Charlotte’ (Lindsay) ‘who says things so nicely, and whose manners are so interesting, she made quite an impression upon me - Miss Berry is really wonderful - thank you very much for giving me their address - I was quite glad to improve so nice an acquaintance - unexpected pleasure to see Lord Stuart - ‘what an enviable tour in Norway! I wish a [I] knew a little more about it - If I live, I mean to go there one of these days - my aunt, as to general health, is much the same as when I left her - but she suffers a martyrdom from rheumatic pains, and her medical men fear she cannot long survive the winter - I enclose a little note for Charlotte - Believe me, dear Lady Stuart, always very truly yours A. Lister’ - then wrote on ¼ sheet the following ‘Shibden Hall - Monday 15 October [September] 1834 - my dear Charlotte - I send you a very little note, the herald of a very little parcel, which Miss Berry was so good as promise to bring from Paris - I told Lady Stuart, it was for you - I always thought of giving you some small remembrance on your entrée into the great world - I wished it to be something useful, and only hope I have chosen well, and that you will like the watch for its own sake, and for mine - I hope you are all enjoying yourself, and looking quite rosy and well at Highcliffe - I should not know it again - if you still hunt for fossils, and care as much as ever for the collection, you can fancy how disappointed I was to find, on reaching here, that all my fine specimens from the Auvergne silver-mines, and many others that were packed in the carriage tool-box, were lost in London, throw away as lumber I suppose, by the coachmakers’ men, who thought anti attrition better worth - I often thought of you among the high alps of Savoy, and wished you were with me - what sketching for Louisa! give my love to her - I shall always feel very much interested for you both, and believe me, my dear Charlotte, your very sincere and affectionate friend A. Lister - my kind remembrances to Miss Hyriott’ - went down to breakfast at 11 ¼ and sent off the letter by George my letter to ‘Mrs. Lawton the Reverend M. Miller’s Scarborough’ - breakfast – Mr Parker sent the lease of ‘Lidgit’ to Mr Lampleugh Wickham Hird for A- to read over – she read it aloud to me – the game reserved as in my leases – only allowed to have 7 DW under plough – penalty £10 per DW –not to cut or prune timber – 34 DW not to underlet except with written leave – Rent £100, terms 10 years -Asleep ½ hour – at my desk at 1 5 wrote my note to C. Stuart and at 2 ½ had written so far of today, and had folded and sealed up in envelope my note - 4 pages of ½ sheet to ‘The Lady Stuart de Rothesay’ enclosing in the same my note to ‘the honourable Miss Stuart’ and enclosed these and my note to ‘the Honourable Lady Stuart Whitehall’ under cover to ‘Lord Stuart de Rothesay 3 Carlton house terrace London’ - sent the above letters at 7 pm by George - A- and I out at 2 ¾ to Brearley hill to meet Holt about getting water for John Bottomley and about sinking pit to enable me to look after Mr. Rawson - getting the water will cost about £16 to £20 sinking and driving at 3/. to 3/6 per yard - about 100 yards - ordered this job to be advertised next week for letting as also the pit sinking - H- thinks the pit will cost about 40/. per yard sinking about 100 yards deep to the lower bed - saw the place near the upper gateway just above Conery wood in the Park farm well field - with a small fire engine might get coal there for many years - easily roaded along the foot of Bairstow, out just below Whiskum cottage into the new bank to Halifax - pit to be oblong 8ft. x 5.4 .:. about not quite said SW. tonight 5sq. yards stuff will come out at each yard depth of sinking - 5x100 = 500 yards of stuff carting down to the foot of the wall opposite the house = about £20 - the water of dirt band (36 yards band) and fourscore yards band to be gathered up in sinking and turned the conery clough separately or not to the house - H- said the coal would sell at 8d at the pit’s mouth - and no turnpike to Hx would make a penny a load difference - R- sells at 9 1/2d in the town - we should sell at 9d - would average 5 ½ corves or loads per square yard - 20 loads or one score would sell for 13/4 at the pits mouth -

From Brearley hill A- met me at Whiskum cottage – thence down the old bank to Halifax to the Bowling foundry for fine-grates for north parlour north chamber and tent room – then to Miss Hebden’s – good account of Charlotte Booth – then to Whitley’s – brought home volume 3 8vo Lyell’s Geology and Busby’s Journal among the vineyards of Spain and Portugal - and pamphlet by John Travers on the Tea duties – then to Throp’s about acorns and settling Bairstow with them – home up the old bank at 6 55 – dinner at 6 – coffee – had Washington – nothing to be made of Mrs Machin about the sale of her 11 DW of coal – but W- told me he would call again on Saturday – A- and I sat talking and reading the newspaper George brought back this evening – with my aunt from 9 ¾ to 10 ¾ - wrote all but the 3 first lines of this page till 11 ½ pm at which hour F59 ½° in my study - very fine day - note from Mr. Wilkinson Heath to say the front pew in the north gallery nearest to the west gallery is at liberty rent 1 guinea a year.

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